On Funerals

Posted by in Church & Missions

I went to a funeral yesterday; I’ll be attending another one tomorrow.

Tomorrow’s funeral is for a family member: my wife’s uncle. Since tomorrow is the last day of school, my wife – a teacher – will be unable to attend. I wasn’t that close to Uncle Roy; in fact, I only met him briefly on two or three occasions. If my wife could get free from school, I would probably stay at the office. Since she can’t, I cleared my schedule and called my oldest daughter. Would she, I asked, go with me in her mother’s place?

I took the opportunity to explain to her the role funerals play in our sense of family. In part, funerals remind us of where – and who – we came from. (Okay… so not exactly leading with the best argument, but I had to start somewhere.) Saying goodbye to someone she barely remembers wasn’t a particularly persuasive argument. Supporting her grandmother seemed to resonate with her. And then it occurred to me that I don’t really believe closure or supporting the family are the best reasons to go to a funeral.

And that brings us to yesterday. Tuesday’s service was for an acquaintance from church. I’ve only known Winston the past four or five years. I was surprised to learn he was only 79, he looked much older. Unable to stand up straight he wound his way up and down the halls of the church with the help of a cane. Not an ordinary cane, one of those that was sort of a cross between a walker and a cane. He sang in the choir every Sunday. Some days he looked energetic and had a twinkle in his eye; other days he looked as if the weight of the choir robe were nearly too much for him. I knew him as a nice guy and a faithful church member.

Yesterday, I learned much more about Winston. And I learned it from his son. It wasn’t so much the facts I learned – that he had been a naval aviator in the Korean war, for example – but the imprint of his life upon his son. One deeply spiritual man – speaking of his dad but pointing every person there toward Jesus Christ – praising another man who spent his life following Christ.

Attending a funeral isn’t solely about saying goodbye, gaining closure, or supporting those who were closest to the deceased. Those things are important, but not the most important.

Attending a funeral is about belonging to a community. It’s fellowship in the deepest sense of the word. It’s about celebrating – to borrow from Hariette’s analogy – the different colors and flavors of all the M&M’s in the bowl. It’s about lives well lived and races well run. I don’t know where Winston or Uncle Roy (both believers and both Southern Baptists) stood on any of the issues we so often discuss in SBC blogs. I realize I don’t care what they believed regarding Calvinism or alcohol or what constitutes an appropriate baptism. And somehow, I don’t think it matters. Not now, not for them. What matters is we celebrate lives lived in the pursuit of God. We are to grieve differently than the world does; and I don’t think we can do that alone. We can only do that in the presence of others who, like us, have tried – and occasionally failed – to follow wherever He leads.