A funeral done the right way

Eight hours on the road yesterday were worth it for the opportunity to say goodbye to a good man, my wife's Uncle Ben, her father's older brother, who died Saturday at age 92. One of my greatest regrets in life is that I have not always attended the funerals of people who were meaningful in my life. Just last week, I missed the funeral of a dear friend of my parents, a woman whose selfless dedication to her church helped shape my life. She also was in her 90s. Because of distance and responsibilities at home or at work, I have missed the funerals of several aunts, uncles and cousins. My presence probably was not missed, but I recognize that I missed something by my absence that I cannot regain.

The funeral for Ben Witherington Jr., a native of Goldsboro and long-time resident of Charlotte, was held in the magnificent sanctuary of Myers Park Methodist Church, a veritable cathedral in one of Charlotte's most-distinguished neighborhoods. Befitting Ben's dedication to the church, the service was a model of Christian hope and values. The soaring ceiling, embroidered banners, dark woodwork and stone walls and pillars gave an air of solemnity and magnificence to the service. The congregation sang three hymns, accompanied by the huge pipes of the church's organ: "For All the Saints," "Great is Thy Faithfulness" and "Here I Am Lord." The hymns were sung to an upbeat tempo, not as dirges, and they were voiced by the full company of friends and relatives, not by some soloist. Funerals should be participatory services, and this one was. Let us express our sorrow — and our faith and hope — in song.

The church's pastor provided a homily, but then he was followed by the deceased's son, Ben Witherington III, my wife's first cousin and her same age. Ben III, a prolific author on theological topics and church history, delivered a heartfelt eulogy that was touching and, as befitting his father, sometimes amusing and whimsical. As the mourners left the sanctuary, I had to grin: The organist played "Hark the Sound," the University of North Carolina alma mater, on the carillon, a touch Uncle Ben, who was a cheerleader in his student days and an obsessive Carolina fan all his life, would have loved.

It was as fitting a memorial as I shall ever know. We all should strive for such a funeral, and for such a well-lived life.