 |
| Picture from https://www.forbes.com/advisor/life-insurance/how-much-does-a-funeral-cost/ |
A Reflection on Funerals
One of the
privileges of pastoral ministry is being with families at the time of death.
These days that might sound horrific. We say we don’t fear death. We pretend to
treat it as a benign matter of fact. “It’s just a biological function.” The
pandemic showed that to be a lie of those whistling in the dark. Come to the
hospital room where a patient is dying and you will see even the doctors and
nurses moved to tears. Yet the pastor’s presence in that room whispers, “Yet
shall she live!” He, too, will weep and grieve with the family, but, if he, by
the Holy Spirit’s grace, is doing his job, will also help the people lift their
eyes beyond death to resurrection – promised by Jesus to all who trust in Him.
When I say
we fear death I do not mean that we obsess and wring our hands at its looming
in the distance. Some do. And for some it is nearer than for others. Mostly
when I say we fear death I mean that we pretend that it is not there. We don’t
deal with it. Our culture wants us to believe that we will live forever,
somehow, perhaps in others’ memories. We have even changed our customs around
death. Death is a moment we get over and get on with, and the death of a loved
one is almost an inconvenience[1] to life
rather than a time to stop, grieve, and receive loving sympathy from others. So,
we don’t want a viewing or visitation. We put off a funeral in favor of a
celebration of life sometime when the weather is nice and we can get everyone
together.
This fear
of death is problematic. It is problematic because without death there is no
resurrection – and resurrection is what Jesus has promised us. Jesus’s death is
necessary for our resurrection, and our own deaths are necessary for a new
resurrected life.
As families
face the time of a loved one’s death, they do sense the magnitude of the moment
and feel that something should be done. But the messages of the culture are
confusing, and the response of the culture to death has little (that is,
nothing) to do with resurrection.
Often the
answer to the question of what should be done when someone dies is that we
should do something to remember the dearly departed. What we seem to want to do
is tell the story of the one who has died. We are, after all, a story-telling
species.
The Irish Wake is such a custom.
What is rightfully criticized for its drunkenness is an inebriated excuse to
remember and tell stories of the dead. Celebrations of life perform a similar
function. Food and festivities become a context for sharing remembrances. The
picture boards and slide shows that are now ubiquitous at such events (and at
funerals and visitations) are also attempts to tell the story of the one we
have lost. While some of this is very healthy and even fun, this also
illustrates our culture’s penchant for shunning sadness. We prefer the funny
stories and the accounts of the achievements of the dead to mundane and sad
stories that also make up a person’s life.
This need to tell stories also
creeps into the expectations of sermons at funerals. I often find that families
tell me stories of the deceased that they want shared in the service.
Unfortunately, the stories that are told of the dead often miss the most
important part of the person’s story – the part that actually gives hope in the
time of death, and they risk missing the opportunity to see their loved one’s
story swept into a greater narrative of salvation and resurrection through
Jesus Christ.
That, after all, is the purpose of
a funeral.
I’ve heard people state that they
don’t want to have a funeral when they die.[2] Similarly,
families will say they don’t want a funeral because they don’t want to be
confronted with the sadness of their loss and they only want to hold on to the
happy memories. The truth is we need both the sadness and the happy memories as
we face the time of death, and we will carry both with us far beyond that forty-five
minute service. We also need to hear good news of a greater story that has
given this moment of death meaning, proclaiming hope and life rooted in God’s
love in the face of death.
The pastor’s perspective on the
funeral is that this is a time to proclaim Jesus’s salvation for the sinner in
the casket … or the urn. Notice, however, there are two parts to this funeral
event – part of this is about Jesus and part of it is about a particular
person. Both need to be acknowledged. The trick comes in, especially in the
sermon, when we talk about where the emphasis lies: on Jesus or the person.
I believe that presented with this
tension pastors and parishioners will tend to default to the opposite extremes.
Pastors will want to lean into the theological realities related to life,
death, atonement, forgiveness, and resurrection; all of which are good emphases
at the time of death. Parishioners will want to hear the stories of their
beloved friend, cousin, mother, father, grandma, grandpa, wife, husband. And
how are we to argue with that? The deceased is very much in focus and the
reason we are gathered.
In truth both need to be told.
A good funeral sermon seeks to tell
the story of Jesus’s salvation – the crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and
promise to return – within the story of one person who received the benefits of
those promises fulfilled for them. Thus a funeral sermon should speak of the
deceased’s Baptism and his reception of the Lord’s Supper. It is the story of
God giving and the person receiving His gifts. It should display the person as
a Christian – which first and foremost means that they are forgiven for
Christ’s sake. While we do not want to dwell on the misdeeds of the departed,
nor do we portray them as overly saintly. There should be no confusion, none of
us enters eternal glory on our own merit. Nevertheless, that individual in the
casket is in glory just as surely as her body is encased in that box.
Funerals are an appropriate time
for stories, but we want to tell the right stories. We want to tell the story
of how God’s Holy Spirit worked faith in this person, delivered Jesus’s life
and holiness to this person, and will, one day, make good on the promise to
raise this person from the dead, even as we insist despite the evidence before
our eyes that the deceased is not dead but alive and awaiting resurrection.
A good funeral also puts us in the
presence of God. It is a worship service where “two or three” have gathered together,
and Christ is in our midst. It is a worship service in which we are reminded of
our own deaths-to-come.[3] This
means that the death of the Christian and the funeral is time that preaches
God’s law (the wages of sin is death) and gospel (but the gift of God is
eternal life through Christ Jesus). It is a time to sing hymns that confront
and comfort giving words to our grief and our praise. It is a time of tears and
joy as the deceased’s story is told, as their life is swept up in the message
of Jesus’ salvation, and we are reminded that this is a reflection of our own
story.
If you are reading this, your story
is still being written, but as you think about it, I encourage you to include a
funeral toward the end of it … somewhere shortly before the part when the
Spirit of God raises you in a new and glorified body. Think about a funeral
that tells the story of how Jesus has woven your story into His – how He has knit
your story with His love, forgiveness, mercy, and every blessing.
And the next time you are at a
funeral, perhaps consider the stories you will share and make sure some of them
are about Jesus’ salvation in the life of the one who died.
[1] I
suppose death is inconvenient to many who die, as they likely had plans to get
on with as well. And I promise that death is an inconvenience to the busy
pastor, though one he must embrace out of love for God and the bereaved.
[2] I
once had a conversation with a woman who didn’t want her family to remember her
laid out in the casket and hated the idea of everyone looking at her. I told
her that, when the time came, I was confident that the experience wouldn’t
bother her at all.
[3] I
once knew a proud and powerful man who could not bring himself to a visitation
or funeral, and funerals show that our pride and power end up in the dust. I
wonder if it is this, more than anything else, that people find so
objectionable about funerals – the silent reminder of the casket or urn that we
all die.
Comments
J erickson