dual personalities

Tag: Funerals

May 29, 2024

In the twinkling of an eye

by chuckofish

Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.

–I Corinthians 15:52-53

Yesterday I went to the funeral of a lady in my Bible Study class. She was quite a gal who had lived a long and meaningful life. She was a teacher, a missionary, a college professor, and an author. By all accounts she was ready to meet her maker. Anyway, it was the first funeral I had attended at my new church and I was not disappointed.

We sang four hymns enthusiastically, con brio.

Her three adult children read various things. One read the Heidelberg Catechism Q & A #1:

QUESTION:

What is your only comfort in life and death?

ANSWER:

That I am not my own, 1 but belong with body and soul, both in life and in death, 2 to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ. 3 He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, 4 and has set me free from all the power of the devil. 5 He also preserves me in such a way 6 that without the will of my heavenly Father not a hair can fall from my head; 7 indeed, all things must work together for my salvation. 8 Therefore, by his Holy Spirit he also assures me of eternal life 9 and makes me heartily willing and ready from now on to live for him. 

One read part of her mother’s testimony and one read from C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity. A soloist sang Handel’s I Know That My Redeemer Liveth. The Senior Pastor preached on Romans 8:18-25.

I might have added one or two more scripture readings, but I thought it was pretty close to perfect as is. No pomp, no circumstance. No smells and bells. Just the community faithful gathering at the proverbial river.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

5 Comments
September 20, 2022

A holy rest

by chuckofish

My lunch date was canceled yesterday so I was able to tune into the committal service at St. George’s Chapel at Windsor for Queen Elizabeth on the BBC.

It was remarkably humble and solemn.

As soon as the choir of men and boys began to sing, although I am no royalist, the tears came and I sobbed, surprising myself. Sitting alone, I had a good cry.

And the solitary piper doing the slow walk…

Well, this old (former) Episcopalian was quite moved.

And I have to say that I was mighty impressed to read that David Beckham had stood in line for thirteen hours waiting with his fellow countrymen to pay his respects to his queen. Isn’t it surprising when a celebrity acts well?

As a father shows compassion to his children,
    so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.
14 For he knows our frame;[a]
    he remembers that we are dust.

15 As for man, his days are like grass;
    he flourishes like a flower of the field;
16 for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
    and its place knows it no more.
17 But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him,
    and his righteousness to children’s children,
18 to those who keep his covenant
    and remember to do his commandments.
19 The Lord has established his throne in the heavens,
    and his kingdom rules over all.

20 Bless the Lord, O you his angels,
    you mighty ones who do his word,
    obeying the voice of his word!
21 Bless the Lord, all his hosts,
    his ministers, who do his will!
22 Bless the Lord, all his works,
    in all places of his dominion.
Bless the Lord, O my soul!

Psalm 103: 13-22

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Elizabeth. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.

7 Comments
August 29, 2022

“While the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high”*

by chuckofish

On Friday I went to my BFF Carla’s mother’s funeral. It was a very watered down Catholic/Episcopal service loosely officiated by Carla’s cousin (a Catholic priest) and her son Michael (an Episcopal priest) with Eucharist (wafer and white wine). No pomp. No circumstance. Her mother Rosemary would have liked it that way.

My favorite memory of Rosemary is the time we went to hear her grandson preach and after the service we talked about how all of us flyover friends and relatives should go to his ordination in NYC. We laughed picturing us all pulling up in front of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine like the Beverly Hillbillies in an overloaded pickup truck. I told Michael that story before the funeral and he showed me the picture of just that–Rosemary in front of the cathedral with the entire family (sans pickup.) She was very proud of all her grandchildren.

Into paradise may the angels lead thee, Rosemary, and at thy coming may the martyrs receive thee, and bring thee into the holy city Jerusalem. (BCP, Burial of the Dead)

The rest of my weekend was pretty quiet. The boy and the twins were back at church with us and then came over for brunch and some driveway sittin’.

The wee bud took the Raptor out for a spin…

…and a good time was had by all.

I watched Santa Fe Trail (1940) starring Errol Flynn as Jeb Stuart and Ronald Regan as George Custer.

Although it bears no connection to historical reality, it nevertheless holds up very well as a movie. Directed by Michael Curtiz and with the Warner Brothers A Team of supporting actors, it tells a good yarn, and as the boy said, Raymond Massey was born to play John Brown.

And I talked to these sweet ladies…

…who were doing some driveway sittin’ of their own.

*Charles Wesley, 1740

5 Comments
January 11, 2018

I will follow you into the dark*

by chuckofish

 

464cf46d0c5e6b4bca2c43a3ab0e229c--rosh-hashanah-marc-chagall.jpg

I went to the funeral of another Jewish friend yesterday. It was at a very large Reform congregation; the service was minimal. We said the 23rd Psalm and the rabbi read the Mourner’s Kaddish. In between, members of her family gave eulogies for their beloved mother and grandmother, who was an accomplished and much admired lady. Her 96 years by all accounts were happy ones. The message, however, was life is a journey and the journey ends at death.

A funeral like this always leaves me feeling empty and kind of sad. Reading some Frederick Buechner puts things in perspective for me.

When it comes to the mystery of death, like the mystery of life, how can any of us know anything? If there is a realm of being beyond where we now are that has to do somehow with who Jesus is, and is for us, and is for all the world, then how can we know the way that will take us there?

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” is how he answers. He does not say the church is the way. He does not say his teachings are the way, or what people for centuries have taught about him. He does not say religion is the way, not even the religion that bears his name. He says he himself is the way. And he says that the truth is not words, neither his words nor anyone else’s words. It is the truth of being truly human as he was truly human and thus at the same time truly God’s. And the life we are dazzled by in him, haunted by in him, nourished by in him is a life so full of aliveness and light that not even the darkness of death could prevail against it.

How do we go where he is? How do we who have a hard enough time just finding our way home in the night find the way that is his way, the way that is he? Who of us can say, and yet who of us doesn’t search for the answer in our deepest places?

As for me, I think what we are to do is to keep on ringing and ringing and ringing, because that ringing – and the longing, the faith, the intuition that keeps us at it – is the music of the truth trying to come true even in us. I think that what we are to do is to try to draw near to him and to each other any way we can because that is the last thing he asked of us. “Love one another as I have loved you” John 15:12) is the way he said it… By believing against all odds and loving against all odds, that is how we are to let Jesus show in the world and to transform the world.

– from Secrets in the Dark

*Death Cab For Cutie

3 Comments
September 30, 2013

A sheep of thine own fold

by chuckofish

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

On Saturday I went to yet another funeral–this time for someone who we all felt would live forever. (Her mother died last year at 101.)

I had known Marian for years and years. She was an exceptional Churchwoman–chair of countless important diocesan committees, vestry member, head of the church school. Plus, you know, she was president of the Vassar Club and the Junior League. She was confident and organized and energetic–in a word: awesome. When I was chairman of the Musee de Noel (a monstrous fundraising effort organized by the Vassar, Smith and Bryn Mawr clubs for many years) and had no help from the hapless and helpless president of the Smith Club, Marian was my right-hand man.

She also changed my life. We were in a small prayer group together and she took me aside once and said (in so many words): “Katie, you can see the glass as half empty or see it as half full. It’s as simple as that. It’s your choice.” Really, it was one of those bolt-from-heaven-slap-in-the-face moments where you realize you have to pay attention and make a change.

And I did. I trained myself to see the glass as half full. It can be done. It is hard for us melancholy Scot types, but not impossible.

Anyway, I had to go back to my old church for her funeral, which is always a bit of a stressful undertaking.

The church was packed–picture a good turn-out on Easter–and the service, which the bulletin termed a “Requiem for the Repose of the Soul of MFC” let out all the stops. Usually the minister says the “I am the resurrection and the life saith the Lord” opening section of the “Order for the Burial of the Dead” as he processes down the aisle, but their “world-class” choir chanted it. They also sang the psalms, as well as anthems at the communion and the commendation, and so it all felt sort of like a performance. But oh well. If anyone deserved such a service, it was Marian. We got to sing three hymns and it was Rite One–always a treat nowadays.

The rector gave the homily and although I do not like him, I liked what he said. This is another reminder to pay ATTENTION, because you never know when or from whom you will hear something meaningful. What he said was quite puritan-like I thought: We are living in a botched creation. Heaven is the world as God wants it to be. But we will be raised, restored and finished. As Christians, Heaven is our destination. Alleluia.

I have to say it was good to be back at old Grace Church on Sunday. In contrast to the well-oiled machine that is my old church, it was business as usual. For example, the Intercessor prayed “For those who rest in China and for all the dead” instead of “those who rest in Christ.” Good grief–let’s remember to wear our glasses next time, honey. It made me chuckle.

Blessings to Marian who fought the good fight of faith and who rests in Christ.

2 Comments
May 8, 2013

The daily tide

by chuckofish

May 6 (Monday) was the 149th anniversary of Henry David Thoreau’s death of consumption in 1862 at age 44. I’m sorry I missed it, but these things happen.

When his aunt Louisa asked him in his last weeks if he had made his peace with God, Thoreau responded: “I did not know we had ever quarreled.” His last words were “Now comes good sailing”, followed by two lone words, “moose” and “Indian”.

Bronson Alcott planned the service. The Boston Transcript reported:

Selections from the Bible were read by the minister. A brief ode, written for the purpose by William Ellery Channing, was plaintively sung. Mr. Emerson read an address of considerable length, marked by all his felicity of conception and diction — an exquisite appreciation of the salient and subtle traits of his friend’s genius — a high strain of sanitive thoughts, full of beauty and cheerfulness, chastened by the gentle sorrow of the hour. Referring to the Alpine flower adelweiss, or noble purity, which the young Switzers sometimes lose their lives in plucking from perilous heights, Mr. Emerson said, “Could we pierce to where he is we would see him wearing profuse chaplets of it; for it belongs to him. Where there is knowledge, where there is virtue, where there is beauty, where there is progress, there is now his home.” Mr. Alcott read some very appropriate passages from the writings of the deceased, and the service closed with a prayer by the Rev. Mr. Reynolds. A long procession was then formed to follow the body to the grave. The hands of friends reverently lowered it into the bosom of the earth, on the pleasant hillside of his native village, whose prospects will long wait to unfurl themselves to another observer so competent to discriminate their features, and so attuned to their moods.

Can you imagine such a funeral? It must have been something.

Originally buried in the Dunbar family plot, Thoreau and members of his immediate family were eventually moved to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, Massachusetts.

thoreau-head2

Have no mean hours, but be grateful for every hour, and accept what it brings. The reality will make any sincere record respectable. No day will have been wholly misspent, if one sincere, thoughtful page has been written. Let the daily tide leave some deposit on these pages, as it leaves sand and shells on the shore. So much increase of terra firma. this may be a calendar of the ebbs and flows of the soul; and on these sheets as a beach, the waves may cast up pearls and seaweed.

—Journals

4 Comments