I recently attended a funeral. Yes. Attended…didn’t officiate. That doesn’t happen very often in my line of work. In fact, in the last twenty years, I’ve probably merely attended fewer than five. Attending gives me a different perspective from “conducting.”
When I have the privilege of conducting a funeral, my mind concentrates on what I need or want to say about the deceased, and especially what I can say that will be of some benefit to the surviving family and friends. But when all I have to do is attend the funeral, I enjoy the luxury of listening to what other people have to say about their loved one or friend.
This particular funeral was for my wife’s Uncle Rog. He had died rather unexpectedly a few days earlier, having lived into his 9th decade. In some ways, Rog was a troubled soul. He suffered from agoraphobia and rarely left his house except for going to church and a quick trip to the grocery store. He wouldn’t cross bridges or railroad tracks to get anywhere. His phobia affected his wife “J” as well. He didn’t want her to leave his side, fearing that she might not return.
Very little was said of that at his funeral—rightly so. Acknowledged briefly, but not dwelt upon. Some other things were left unsaid, too.
Remembering
His pastor spoke of how much he loved his family and the church, that even though he dreaded leaving his house, he cherished going to the Lord’s house. He mentioned how blessed he was to be Rog’s pastor.
His son-in-law, struggling to hold in his emotions, expressed great fondness for “pop” — a term of endearment not often used for a father-in-law. But Rog welcomed him, his daughter’s husband, as if he were his own son, treated him with kindness, was always ready to help. He also noted how thoroughly devoted “Pop” was to his wife of more than fifty years. And most importantly, he made sure everyone in the family heard the gospel, urged them to receive Christ, and rejoiced to see them do so.
One of his two sons shared a tribute in the form of a YouTube video from an episode of the ancient Donna Reed Show. It spoke volumes and evoked plenty of tears. Though Roger Jr. couldn’t bring himself to say anything—understandably so; it’s a terribly difficult thing to do—the video spoke eloquently in his behalf.
His granddaughters both mentioned Rog’s adept skill at playing the spoons. At family gatherings, the music started, and out came the spoons—a memory indelibly etched in their minds from childhood. They recalled his sweet tooth, sneaking and sharing candy with them, theoretically without mom or grandma knowing. And of the love he had for his Italian wife’s gloriously delicious cooking. That he could fix anything. That he loved them…deeply.
All of the above referred to how hard Rog worked, but also how much fun he had in life—the life of the family get-togethers, the guy who lights up the room when he walks in, always ready with a joke or a prank of some kind.
Some Things Missing
Several things were missing from all that was said, and I’ve noticed they’re left out of every funeral I’ve attended or conducted.
No one disclosed how much money was left behind in his checking and savings accounts—or even if he had any!
No one mentioned how large his house was—how many bedrooms and bathrooms, the square footage, the assessed value.
No one brought up what kind of car he had (that he rarely, if ever drove!).
No one commented on the extent and nature of his estate, his real estate holdings, his life insurance policies, his stock portfolio.
No one discussed the positions he held in any social clubs or companies he worked for.
This is as it should be.
Good Counsel
Writer, blogger, and more Kevin Kelly has recommended,
“Before you are old, attend as many funerals as you can bear, and listen. Nobody talks about the departed’s achievements. The only thing people remember is what kind of person you were while you were achieving.”
Good advice. Biblical advice, actually. Millennia ago, the “preacher” who penned Ecclesiastes offered similar counsel:
It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth. — Ecclesiastes 7:2–4 (ESV)
As the end of all mankind, death confronts the mourner with sobering truths about what really matters. The dark angel certainly warns each one in the house to be ready when their time comes. But there’s more.
Here before the casket sits a harried mother of school-age children fighting with feelings of insignificance because she put her career on hold to take care of the little ones. But she hears the grown daughter of the deceased praise her mom for the impact she had on her while growing up—as a stay-at-home mom.
Here sits a confused, struggling teenager trying to make sense of life, to figure out what to do with his own, asking what really matters. If he listens, really listens, Spirit-guided voices will offer much clarity.
Here sits the harried businessman burning the candle at both ends, striving to reach the next rung, to better fund his portfolio and pay the mounting debts from all the stuff he’s purchased. And he has no idea how much money his dead uncle left to the kids. All they seem to talk about is the time he invested in them…the days off spent together…the family vacations….
Here weeps the grieving widow, but an occasional smile breaks across her face as someone shares a story highlighting the generosity and kindness of her deceased husband. Someone mentions what a good provider and protector he was. Her thoughts stray to their comfortable, but certainly not lavish, home. And she sighs contentedly, knowing she’ll soon return alone to the place he worked so hard to provide.
Divine Counsel
At one point in his itinerant ministry, Jesus was accosted by a man whose father must have died recently. He went to dad’s funeral, but he wasn’t paying attention. “Teacher,” he begged, “tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me!”
Could you see this discontented middle-aged man at the “house of mourning”? While his brother eulogizes their father, his mind is on the Will.
“Bet he’s gonna grab it all for himself!” he fumed.
When the dust settled, the Will was read, and the estate divided up, sure enough, he was miffed. “Certainly Jesus knows what’s important! He’ll get me my fair share!”
Hence, his sorry request of the Master. Which leads Jesus to declare:
“Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” – Luke 12:15
If the “short-changed” son had been paying attention at the house of mourning, he would’ve noticed that dad left it all behind. And furthermore, nobody there talked about how much he left…or what great positions he achieved…only what kind of man he was.
Jesus continued correcting this poor misguided man with a story—a parable—with the covetous son as the central character. It was about a man who lived to acquire great abundance, accumulating ever so much more for himself. Until his last night on earth suddenly came upon him, and his next stop was the house of mourning.
And what kind of person will people remember him for being while he was so energetically engaged in all his achieving?
Visiting the house of mourning is never fun. But it is satisfying to the soul when mourner after mourner speaks with heartfelt fondness and appreciation for the “pop” who loved them dearly, lived life virtuously, and served his Savior joyfully.
