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.

Hymns for a funeral

In church yesterday, I began thinking again about funeral hymns and the singing I'd like to "see me off." Here's one, a great favorite of mine and wonderfully appropriate for funerals. The video is from an All Saints Sunday at a Methodist Church in Arlington, Va.




The hymn should be sung by the congregation, all eight (or however many) verses. Other congregational hymn: "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" and "Immortal, Invisible" (with the lyrics "we blossom and flourish like leaves on the tree, we wither and perish but naught changeth thee."

Funerals that celebrate life

While departing the church today after a funeral, I made the comment that, in an odd way, I rather enjoy funerals. Perhaps that requires some explanation.

A good funeral — and both that I attended this week were "good" — is faith-affirming and life-affirming. The message at such services is not lamentation but celebration of a life well-lived and the promise of new life after death. The Scriptures chosen for these services are reassuring. Today, and at my father's funeral (at my suggestion), one Scripture was from the end of the eighth chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans: "Neither life nor death ... nor things present nor things to come ... can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus."

The hymns are likewise reassuring and faith-affirming. The hymns chosen for the funerals I attended this week included "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee," Henry Van Dyke's sacred lyrics to Beethoven's symphony; "Eternal Father, Strong to Save" (the Navy hymn whose notes will forever remind me of John F. Kennedy's funeral); and "Here I Am, Lord." At my wife's uncle's funeral in December, we sang "For All the Saints," perhaps the most appropriate of all hymns for a funeral.

I came away from both funerals this week with a feeling of having been touched spiritually. Although a sad occasion, certainly, a good funeral affirms all that is good in religious faith, and it cushions survivors with the love of friends. For those relatives and friends attending the service, a good funeral is an affirming reassurance of God's love.

Some months ago, I wrote about grief and mourning, prompted by a column by Meghan O'Rourke, whose mother had recently died. Her contention was that Hamlet is such an profoundly complex character simply because he is grief-stricken. And I contended that although we take great comfort in the Scriptures read at funerals, the Bible is quite ambiguous about just what the afterlife might be like and whether we will recognize our friends and relatives in that spiritual realm.

Some people say they hate to go to funerals, but I rather like to go — at least to the good, faith-affirming ones. How much closer can one come to God than when standing so close to death?