Funerals. They are as different as the people they represent. Or at least they are supposed to be...
I have been to many funerals in my day. Some friends, some supporting friends when their parents or grandparents pass (remember: funerals are for the living), lots of elderly funerals, and a few family members’ funerals.
There is one funeral over the years that I will never forget the way it made me feel.
It's always interesting to listen to the preacher conduct a funeral. Right away you can tell if he personally knew the deceased or not. The most fantastic funerals are when the preacher has a personal relationship with the deceased and the deceased loved Jesus. That is, if you can consider a funeral fantastic. You can. I can anyway. I have witnessed a handful of them. I'm not fond of the ones where the preacher doesn't know if the deceased will live out eternity in heaven or hell. Those are agonizing for the crowd as the preacher tries to comfort the family with words of hope that aren't quite believable, even to himself. But the most agonizing is when the person performing the funeral didn't know the deceased. Didn't know the family. This one particular funeral that I remember was a cookie cutter funeral that probably meant the world to the family who didn't know any differently or weren't in a state of mind to recognize the brutality of it. He rambled on and said lovely, flowery words about the deceased as if he knew her. He basically took information from the obituary and the eulogy and paraphrased it and paraphrased it, and paraphrased it one more time. I was about to be sick. I just wanted him to shut up. I wanted to stand up and object. I wanted to walk out. I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it, years later. I wanted to cry for the deceased, just because of the way the service was going, not because of my loss.
The only reason I can handle it now is because I really think I was the only one to feel that way. I saw it from beginning to end. Nothing was original. I think when the deceased is unknown to those organizing the funeral service, the officiant starts to stereotype the deceased and tries to tailor a service accordingly. They learn things from the family and start to build the message. Oh, this person was strong-willed and a hard worker... use paragraphs A and C. Oh, this person was meek and a wonderful mother... pull paragraphs E and B for her. Nothing celebrated the uniqueness of the person. But to the other grievers attending that day, this was a funeral complete with beautiful flowers and the 23rd Psalm. His Word and "The Old Rugged Cross" did praise God that day. I believe God deserves so much more. The deceased, who did love God, deserved so much more. For all these reasons, this was the saddest funeral I've ever been to in my life.
I have been to many funerals in my day. Some friends, some supporting friends when their parents or grandparents pass (remember: funerals are for the living), lots of elderly funerals, and a few family members’ funerals.
There is one funeral over the years that I will never forget the way it made me feel.
It's always interesting to listen to the preacher conduct a funeral. Right away you can tell if he personally knew the deceased or not. The most fantastic funerals are when the preacher has a personal relationship with the deceased and the deceased loved Jesus. That is, if you can consider a funeral fantastic. You can. I can anyway. I have witnessed a handful of them. I'm not fond of the ones where the preacher doesn't know if the deceased will live out eternity in heaven or hell. Those are agonizing for the crowd as the preacher tries to comfort the family with words of hope that aren't quite believable, even to himself. But the most agonizing is when the person performing the funeral didn't know the deceased. Didn't know the family. This one particular funeral that I remember was a cookie cutter funeral that probably meant the world to the family who didn't know any differently or weren't in a state of mind to recognize the brutality of it. He rambled on and said lovely, flowery words about the deceased as if he knew her. He basically took information from the obituary and the eulogy and paraphrased it and paraphrased it, and paraphrased it one more time. I was about to be sick. I just wanted him to shut up. I wanted to stand up and object. I wanted to walk out. I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it, years later. I wanted to cry for the deceased, just because of the way the service was going, not because of my loss.
The only reason I can handle it now is because I really think I was the only one to feel that way. I saw it from beginning to end. Nothing was original. I think when the deceased is unknown to those organizing the funeral service, the officiant starts to stereotype the deceased and tries to tailor a service accordingly. They learn things from the family and start to build the message. Oh, this person was strong-willed and a hard worker... use paragraphs A and C. Oh, this person was meek and a wonderful mother... pull paragraphs E and B for her. Nothing celebrated the uniqueness of the person. But to the other grievers attending that day, this was a funeral complete with beautiful flowers and the 23rd Psalm. His Word and "The Old Rugged Cross" did praise God that day. I believe God deserves so much more. The deceased, who did love God, deserved so much more. For all these reasons, this was the saddest funeral I've ever been to in my life.
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