As often happens in the life of a pastor, I had two funerals this weekend in quick succession, the first within two hours of my return from vacation in Houston, the second two days later, and today, the burial for the latter. (The cemetery's digging machine was broken this weekend, so it was delayed.) Even though I am in the throes of preparing for Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter), funerals are a time when we think about Easter. It is a time we remember the promises of baptism, and give thanks for the gift of eternal life, and for our loved one who is now basking in the perpetual light of God. In my mind, funerals - at least those for people who lived long lives of faith and devotion, as both of mine were this weekend - are a time for gratitude and even joy. And that moment when we finally lay to rest this sheep of God's own fold to their final resting place in the ground is one of satisfaction and relief.
But our burial practices don't reflect this very well. It used to be that people played a more active role in the burial of their dead, and as morbid as this may sound, I think that is really important for processing and coming to terms with this loss. Now, you pass the body over to a funeral home, they make your loved one look alive again, but sleeping (although I am always struck by how very still embalmed people look, creepily so) and we surround a beautiful casket with flowers and mementos. While I know this makes the loss easier in the moment, it just seems to deny that this person is dead.
(As a side note, it is interesting how resistant people are to saying the word "dead." "She's passed," we say, or, "He's no longer with us." Would you say that Jesus "passed away"? If we can talk about the Son of God as having died, then why not our loved ones? Dressed up as respect for the dead, it seems to me like one more way to deny what has happened.)
Perhaps the most frustrating part for me on this front is the burial. Liturgically, there is a part in the committal where we are meant to lower the casket into the ground, so that the family and friends of the deceased can actually see and pray this person into his or her final resting place. It is also suggested that everyone throw a handful of dirt on top of the resting casket, thus playing a part in the burial and very physically and ritualistically coming to terms with the fact of it. But very rarely does this actually happen. In fact, quite the opposite. We arrive at the cemetery, where the burial site has been made to look, frankly, quite lovely. Green turf is spread out, covered chairs available for folks who need to sit, flowers brought from the funeral service. Flowers even adorn the top of the casket, which sits suspended over the hole (which you can't really see because it, too, is lined with green turf). We do the service, failing to lower the casket (because it is "too hard" for the family to see that). The funeral home kindly hands out flowers to everyone, which they can keep as a remembrance of the person (until, of course, the flower "passes away" in a couple days), or can leave on top of the casket. It's all very nice and civilized, though there is also a sense of anti-climax. No one ever seems quite sure if they should leave when they can still see the casket.
But then everyone does leave, with the casket still suspended over the grave. And, in some way, the casket is not all that is suspended; also the sense of closure that comes from seeing a body put in its final resting place. Once everyone has left, the casket is lowered, and the trucks and tractors and machines needed to fill in the hole come through and finish the job, with no one there to watch it happen. Even the pile of dirt used to fill the hole is somewhere out of sight, where no one has to see it and realize that this person is going to be buried underneath it. Next time any of the family is there, the body is safely deep underground (they assume).
Don't get me wrong - funeral homes, and especially the ones I work with, do a lovely job of walking with a family through this difficult time. They do their job well. But not watching the burial itself leaves an important part missing. Today for the first time, I actually stayed to the end of this. I don't know why I didn't think to do this before; I will be doing it from now on. I watched them strip away all the green turf so that I could see that there really was a hole in the ground. I saw them carefully lower the casket - I admit this was very moving, even as someone who didn't actually know this woman in life. Even as it was difficult to watch, giving the sense that this door really is closed, I also felt such a strong sense of peace, knowing that those words said at the end of the committal - "Rest eternal grant her, O God, and let light perpetual shine upon her" - really mean something! I prayed her all the way down to the bottom, and continued praying as I watched the other various things that go into closing up a grave. I finally left when the hole was almost completely filled.
The process was fascinating to watch, but it was also very moving. I found myself wondering what the people who do this are like, what they think about it, if they are people of faith. Or is this just a job to them, and a burial is just a routine day at work? I hoped that they had something that they do to honor each unique person, but it didn't really look like it, as they were sort of talking and joking through the whole thing. (Due to a -5 windchill, I admit I watched this from my car, and couldn't hear their words.) I was glad that I had stayed in order to pray this woman all the way to her final resting place. I will be doing this in the future.
So what is the greater good? Making the initial shock of losing someone as smooth and easy to deal with as possible? Or giving them the chance to participate in the burial of their loved one and come to terms with the loss as fully as possible? As I watched the family leave the suspended casket, I imagined being at my own parents' burials (sometime in the distant future, I hope!), and this being my last view of them. As I watched the casket being lowered, I imagined my family member inside, and how I would feel watching this. I admit it would be hard. But harder in the long run, I think, would be a casket suspended just above ground as my final goodbye.
It's something to think about... but something I hope I won't have to deal with personally for a very long time.
No comments:
Post a Comment