More funerals, and then one final one

I attended another funeral Monday. As we age, we find ourselves more often seated in those somber services, bidding farewell to friends or relatives, people who have brightened and influenced our lives but will now be missing. I've resigned myself to the fact that these services and these losses will be ever more frequent portions of my life.

Each time I go to a funeral, I find myself thinking about my own funeral, an inevitability I can only hope will not take place for many more years. But my growing experience with funerals have persuaded me that certain rules should apply. A funeral should take place in the deceased's church, not in some sterile funeral home chapel (sorry, all you guys who have invested in these auditoriums). The church is where you came into this world of faith, and it is the place from which you should depart.

There should be congregational singing. I've persevered through operatic renditions of "The Lord's Prayer" and other solos, but it seems most appropriate to me that the entire company of believers should join voices to bid farewell to the departed. For me, sing "For All the Saints" and "A Mighty Fortress is Our God," two great hymns of faith. If you're in the mood for a third hymn, make it "Immortal, Invisible" (with the haunting lines, "we blossom and flourish like leaves on the tree and wither and perish but naught changeth thee") or "Amazing Grace."

Scripture will be read, of course. When my father died, I asked his pastor to read from Romans 8:38-39: "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." That would do nicely for my departing. Also read from Psalms 127: "Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them." Those words define my legacy, such as it is — children born when I was young, who gave my life purpose.

A eulogy would be offered. If someone wanted to add to what the presiding pastor has to say, that would be fine but not required. Depart not in mourning over loss but in thankfulness for a life full of abundance and joy.