still thinking about funerals.....I want it to be brief

When the family member repeated that for the third time, I thought I needed to clarify the issue. What exactly did he want to happen as we buried his father?  What was he afraid would happen?  (Truly I needed to suss that one out for myself; folks can rarely articulate those underlying fears.)

He was afraid of the truth and equally afraid that some falsehood would be spoken. A short liturgy meant less time for something (unnamed) to happen.

He didn't want Hallmark sentiments usually expressed on father's day (because they would be ridiculous when applied to his father) and at the same time he didn't know what to do with the truth that life was unnecessarily hard for him as a child and he continued to bear the emotional scars from that.  He didn't trust me or the church to be of any help; God was too far off to even be considered.

So we talked. He told me a bit of his story with anger and sorrow and longing.  I talked about things like redemption, forgiveness, absolution, and new life yet again.  We talked about following the casket into the church and putting the funeral pall in place: a symbol of a baptism long ago now being completed in this final scene.  He could place that pall and entrust his father into God's hands who knew it all, and then let go of the weight of those years, release responsibility for keeping up a front. That baptismal remembrance could be a baptism of hope and new life for him as well.

He could walk into that sacred space and know that God knew the truth of the past and the reality of his pain.  He could listen for the promises to be spoken again.......and the stories to be told.  Not the stories of this life, but stories from people of faith who had encountered God and found hope for a future.  He could listen to our God speaking to him about the great love God held for him.

This ritual was the moment for him to commend his father into the Lord's hands, for the Lord's doing.  It also offered him a moment to begin again - we might even say, 'be born anew' -  to begin that long journey of new life in Jesus.

At the end of the funeral liturgy, we commit the body to the ground 'earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'  It is a place and a time to throw all our unfulfilled dreams, all that did not turn out well, all that continued to bring pain into our lives - to throw it into that open grave.  It is the place where the frailness of every human is on display for everyone.  It is the place where our monolithic view of the other is reduced to ashes and dust.  It is the place to bury the broken things so we too might experience new life in the here and now. It is the moment when our road to healing begins.

"Rest eternal grant him, O Lord and let light perpetual shine upon him."

It is the final benediction, and an expression of hope for the living.

For this family, the ritual allowed them the space and time and words and actions they needed to begin to heal.  That's the way it's intended to work, no matter what the circumstances.  A threshold has been crossed - for the dead and for the living.  Together, before God, we embrace that truth again.