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ON FUNERALS!
Dear Miss Manners:
What does one say to bereaved relatives standing
in expectant lines at funerals and wakes? I recently passed through such
a line after a church funeral, feeling my usual tongue-tied self, and was especially
stalled when I was passed to the elderly wife of the deceased, who said, "It
was so fortunate that John went so quickly. He would have hated living
with a stroke!"
I muttered a response, but while getting into
the car with my husband, I speculated about whether I could have said,
If you are sitting at an even-numbered table,
I want you to come up with a list of rules as to how one ought to behave
at funerals. Be sure to include how you would have responded to the "elderly
wife" referred to above and/or how you could have responded to her
remark. You may also want to include some "dos" and "don'ts" for
someone who has, for whatever reasons, never attended a funeral.
If you are setting at an odd-numbered table, I
want you to discuss what you would like the pastor to say at your funeral. You
know, something along the lines of how you would like to be remembered by others. If
the table you are setting at is neither even nor odd, i. e. you're reading this
lesson at home, then consider the latter request. What would you like a
pastor or friend to say at your funeral?
Now let me share with you the rest of the letter
to Miss Manners and her reply to it. The second paragraph, in full, reads,
I muttered a response, but while getting into
the car with my husband, I speculated about whether I could have said, "Oh,
that is good, then! You must be very happy." This speculation
caused me, to have a laughing fit, which my husband said caused him great embarrassment. I
feel that it was your fault, since you have provided nothing proper for me to
say.Gentle Reader:
Miss Manners is sorry about having omitted saying
that laughing fits and smart retorts to widows are not permitted at funerals,
no matter what the provocation. The all-purpose answer she has given, "I'm
so sorry," still applies, even if a non sequitur to the remark of the
bereaved. The widow is unlikely to snap back with "If I think it's
all for the best, what are you sorry about?"1
Now I don't know whether Miss Manners actually
received such a letter asking for her advice or not. But let me tell
you of another story, which is undoubtedly true, where it appears that an inappropriate
remark was made by someone who just happened to be at the funeral.
Again it concerns a widow, but on this particular
day she wasn't burying her husband who she had buried sometime before the present
tragedy. On this particular day, she was burying her one and only son. Twice,
within a relatively short time, death had reached into her home and wrenched
loved ones from her. First her husband, and then her only son.
When her husband died, she faced an uncertain
future. Now with the death of her son the future grew pitch black. With
his death, she had no one to hold her hand, no one to steady her steps, no
one to fix breakfast for, no one to attend church with, and no one to take
care of her in the autumn of her life.
Her home slumped in its own grief, retreating
into itself, laid silent and still. No longer heard were the sounds
of animated talks that chronicled the day, no longer heard were the ripples
of her son's laughter, and no longer would there be late-night conversations. All
she had left was a bundle of memories and they were hardly enough to take the
chill off her intense loneliness.2
If the death of this boy had happened in our
own day invariably someone would have stood up at his funeral and said, "We're
not here to mourn a death, we're here to celebrate a life." Speaker
such as this intend no harm, but with their words they curtail legitimate grief
and discount appropriate anger, a righteous anger toward death. But this
boy's death didn't occur during our lifetime. His death occurred during
Jesus' lifetime on earth. His story may be found in Luke 7:11 - 13 where
we read:
Soon afterward, Jesus went to a town called
Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him. 12 As
he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out-the only son
of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with
her. 13 When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, "Don't
cry."
Don't cry? Can you imagine someone saying "don't
cry" to someone who has just lost her one and only son? These two
words would not, cannot, be found in any book on pastoral care. Nor would
you find them in Miss Manners' files for what to do and not do at funerals. But
this wasn't Jesus' only breach of etiquette at this funeral.
After addressing the grieving widow with totally
inappropriate words he turned and touched the coffin. This innocent little
act rendered him unclean in the eyes of rabbinic law. But, on the plus
side, it served to bring the procession of mourners to a sudden halt. Picking
up the story in v. 14 we read:
Then he went up and touched the coffin, and
those carrying it stood still. He said, "Young man, I say to you, get
up!" 15 The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him
back to his mother.
They were all filled with awe and praised God. "A
great prophet has appeared among us," they said. "God has come to
help his people." 17 This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea
and the surrounding country.
Now, having read this story, let me ask you
one more time - What would you like a pastor or friend to say at your funeral? Possible
responses might include but are not limited to the following:
- I would be delighted for him to tell others that I lived a productive life,
loved my family, and died in peace.
- I would like him to tell others of how well I served the church as well as
my neighbors.
- I would like him to echo the words of the Master to one of his servants in
Matthew 25, "Well done, good and faithful servant!"
-
-
If the one officiating at our funeral made any
of these remarks then clearly, with God's help, we undoubtedly lived a life
worth living. But suppose he stood up, looked down at the open coffin
and said, "Oh my gosh, he's moving!" Or, as Jesus said to the
widow's son, "Young man, I say to you, get up!"
Well, you can imagine how this totally
disrupted the boy's funeral! Suddenly, after the initial shock wore off,
mourning turned into uproarious laughter. What was at one moment a somber
funeral procession suddenly turned into a festive tailgate party with everyone
hugging the boy and his mother.
This miracle, of course, was an incredible display
of the Savior's power. But there is something about this miracle that
makes it extra special for you and I. The mother, you see, never threw
herself at Jesus' feed and begged him for the life of her son. In fact,
there is no indication that she had ever heard of Jesus. Nor is there
any indication that it was a result of her faith.
This is what gives this miracle significance. It
is a miracle done without human prompting. And evidently, it was done
without any thought given to capturing a "teachable" moment for
the sake of the disciples. Likewise, it was performed without any
thought of deity being demonstrated to those in the crowd.
It is a miracle drawn solely from the depths
of God's compassion for this poor widow. It's a miracle that not only
shows God's power over the awfulness of death but his in-your-face rebuke of
the devil - the one who thought he held the power of death over every living
soul. On this day, Satan found out in a flash that he was wrong!
Furthermore, this story, as well as others,
tells us that if we want to know how to conduct ourselves at a funeral, we
best not look to Jesus as our example. He interrupted and disrupted
every funeral he ever attended. Why? Because a lifeguard
can't sit still while someone is drowning. A teacher can't resist helping
a student when he or she is confused. And Jesus couldn't attend a funeral
and not do something about the awfulness of death. He, as God, even did
something about his own death!
In regards to the resurrection of Jesus, Tony
Campolo has toured the country giving his take on it. He tells the story
of how he, a rather white man, was invited to a preaching contest in a black
church. As he tells it,
He preached his heart out, and when he finished
what he thought was a fine sermon, an elderly black minister stood and smiled
kindly at him.
"Nice job, son," he said, "Now
let a man show you how to preach." The man got up behind the pulpit
and whispered one line: "It's Friday . . . but Sunday's a-coming." And
for the next hour, his preaching blew that congregation into kingdom come.
"Jesus was arrested. He was taken
before the magistrates and rulers. He was whipped, scourged, and mocked. They
put a crown of thorns on his head and scorned him as King of the Jews. It's
Friday . . . but Sunday's a-coming.
"One of his disciples betrayed him. Peter
denied him. He was abandoned by all those he held dear. He was
hung on a cross, dying an excruciating death. It''s Friday . . . but
Sunday's a-coming.
"Jesus was on the cross - dead, gone, no
more. But that's Friday . . . and Sunday's a-coming." You
could feel the preacher begin to take off, Campolo said, and the congregation
was rising with him.
"Friday, Mary's crying her eyes out. The
disciples are running in every direction, like sheep without a shepherd. There's
no hope in the world. Pilate's washing his hands. Roman soldiers
are strutting around, driving nails into his flesh, stabbing him with their
spears. Pharisees are gloating, calling the shots. But that's Friday
. . . and Sunday's a-coming.
It's Friday and those forces that oppress and
hurt the people, those rulers that make people suffer and poor, are doing their
worst. Satan's dancing a little jig and thinks that he rules the world. Government
is doing his business. But that's because it's Friday . . . and Sunday's
a-coming.
"We are surrounded by death, by our own
inadequacies, by fear and loneliness. It's Friday! We are torn
by hunger and thirst and sorrow. Our lives are dark. It's Friday!"
He went on in ever-increasing crescendos until,
at the end of the sermon, he shouted in proclamation: "We are the
people of God, here to change the world, to share in the sufferings. It's
Friday . . . but Sunday's a-coming!"
Then the old preacher just yelled at the top
of his lungs: "It's Friday!" And the whole congregation
- who for decades had tasted injustice, endured poverty, wept tears of anguish
- rose to their feet as one large choir and shouted back: "But Sunday's
a-coming!"3
In the ancient Russian Orthodox tradition, the
day after Easter was devoted to telling jokes. Why would priests and
others sit around the table all day saying, "Have you heard the one about
. . . "? This was the way, they felt, that they were imitating the
cosmic joke that God pulled on Satan in the resurrection. Satan thought
that he had won, and was smug in his victory, smiling to himself, dancing a
little jig, and rejoicing in the belief that he had gotten in the last word. Then
God raised Jesus from the dead, and life, salvation, and laughter became the
last word!4
1 Judith Martin, Miss Manners' Guide For the Turn-of-the-Millennium,
A Fireside Book, Published by Simon & Schuster, Inc., New York, NY 10020,
1990, p.672.
2 Ken Gire, When Life Meets Death, Teachers in Focus, December
1997/January 1998, pp. 18 - 19.
3 Terry Lindvall, The Mother of All Laughter, Broadman & Holman
Publishers, Nashville, TN, 2003, pp. 79 - 81.
4 William J. Bausch, Storytelling: Imagination
and Faith, Twenty-Third Publications, Mystic, CN, 1984, p. 138.THE JOY OF LAUGHTER 11/05/06 1
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