Elegy in a Churchyard

In 1751, Thomas Gray published his famous poem, “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” in which he contemplated life and death and his own waiting grave. Yesterday I contemplated some of the same subjects while sitting in church. My wife and I were attending the memorial service for a man we’ve known for almost 25 years now. He was elderly and in poor health, and had expressed he was ready for his earthly journey to end. As a solid Christian, he anticipated heaven and the chance to see his wife, who had preceded him in death just a few months earlier. Still, it’s always hard to say good-bye to someone you like, even though you know his passing is a blessing to him.

As I sat in the service, I thought back over the many funerals I conducted while serving in active pastoral ministry. I officiated at 160 services, of which five were during my first year of retirement, and one was before going to seminary. (This compares to 76 weddings and over 300 baptisms.) As I pondered the words of yesterday’s service, a number of incidents from “my” funerals came to mind. I’d like to share some of the “high-lights” and “low-lights” with you.

The first service was while I was serving as an interim preacher at a small, country congregation in nearby Edinburgh, Indiana. The pastor had died, and my own pastor sent me over to help out while I was still taking part-time seminary courses by extension. I preached almost every Sunday and taught confirmation classes, but when it came to administering sacraments and conducting funerals or weddings, a real pastor was called in.

It was in this context that I assisted at the service of a 12-year old boy who had suddenly become ill and died. His parents and the small, family-like congregation were devastated; I remember visiting the dad right after the boy died, and hearing his lament that God could have let his son live long enough to play his beloved baseball one more season before taking him. I didn’t know how to respond – I probably still wouldn’t.

But I definitely wouldn’t say what the real pastor said during the eulogy. She said, “God has a lot to answer for, to take this boy so young.” She was in touch with the family’s questioning of “Why? Why him, and why now?” but even though I had barely begun my seminary studies, I knew her statement was wrong. God has nothing to have to answer for. He is God, and he can do as he wishes. Whether he caused the death outright or just allowed a natural disease to run its course was his decision. Who am I, or who was that pastor, to charge God with wrongdoing?

Scripture says that God’s ways are beyond our scrutiny and judgment. Though we may ask, as the psalmists do, “Why, O Lord?” (Psalm 10:1, 88:14, for example) when evil befalls us, we are in no position to judge God. We are told that God’s ways and decisions are unsearchable: “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable” (Isaiah 40:28), and in Romans 11:33, “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!” As high as the heavens are above the earth, so are his ways higher than ours, and his thoughts than our thoughts (Isaiah 55:9). When righteous Job questioned all the suffering he endured, God responded to him with, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding” (Job 38:4), and “Will you even put me in the wrong?
Will you condemn me that you may be in the right?” (Job 40:8). Clearly, to charge God with wrongdoing and attempt to judge him based on our limited knowledge and standards, is itself wrong.

When the service ended, we stepped outside to the small cemetery in the adjacent churchyard for the burial. I read Jesus’ words from John 11:25-26 aloud: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” When I read the words, I choked up, barely getting them out – not just because I shared the family’s grief, but also because I looked forward to the day when that entire little cemetery (and all others) will empty at Christ’s return. The hope of what is to come trumped the loss at what had happened. That is the message every funeral should proclaim.

The second service I conducted was about nine months after I was ordained. The woman was a non-member referred to me by friends of hers when they learned she had terminal bone cancer. I visited her off and on for several months, praying with her and reminding her of our faith even as the cancer spread and wreaked havoc in her body. Finally, on a Maundy Thursday morning, I sat with her and her family as she said her final good-byes and slipped into eternity. It hit me hard. As it happened, I preached at out church’s Maundy Thursday service that evening, and struggled greatly with the message, which was about Judas’s betrayal and our participation in his sin. And about Jesus’ pending death.

When I preached at her service, I had no idea that I would be doing the same for her unbelieving husband two years later, though thanks be to God, he came to faith during one of my visits to him just prior to his death. After his conversion, his family wondered about the change that had taken place in him, and asked me just prior to beginning his service, “What did you do to him? He’s a different (better) man now!” I had to reply that it wasn’t me, but God’s doing. I realized that my ministry to his wife was not only for her comfort, but also the means to lay the groundwork for his salvation.

There was the “Wrong Name” service.  Less than two years after my ordination, I made the one mistake every preacher dreads: saying the wrong name in a funeral service. In my defense (he rationalizes) the odds were stacked against me. I had two services just three days apart for two non-member women who were about the same age. Both services were at funeral homes. One woman’s name was Barbara and the other Margaret, both of whom, you will note, had the same number of syllables, and basically the same vowels. Though the sermons were different, I used the same template for both services, just erasing the first person’s name from my service book and writing in the second one. Of course, I missed one of the changes, so when it came time in the second service to read the deceased’s name, I said the wrong one. As soon as I did, my heart sank and I knew the family would be upset and my career would be over, but from every indication, no one noticed – except of course, my wife, who was attending that service. Spouses always catch those things. I determined to be more careful in the future, and never again made that mistake – at least as far as I know . . .

The “Open Mic” service. Though I did officiate at a number of services where the family wanted everyone who wanted to, to get up and say something, there was one that stood out more than others. We held the service at a school cafeteria where the young man had worked. There was a large turnout of co-workers, students, and friends of the family. The service proceeded just fine until it came time for the eulogy. In keeping with the family’s request, I invited people to come forward to the microphone and give their tributes. Many people spoke, until finally it appeared it was time to move on. Just as I began the benediction, a man stood up and asked to speak. I started to tell him he was too late, when the family asked me to let him speak. I deferred, and stepped back. He came up, took the mic in hand, and began his remarks with the words, “I didn’t know the deceased, but . . .” He went on to completely undermine my Christian message of faith and resurrection, telling everyone that the deceased was now a tree, or a bee or something like that. I resolved never to let that kind of thing happen again, so in future services, I declined requests for open mics and asked family to designate two or three people they knew and trusted to give a few memories of the deceased. Those services went much better.

There are many other funerals and  memorial services I could tell about, such as the one where I had to inspect the un-embalmed body of the deceased to make sure he was wearing his glasses and wedding ring; when I reported to the widow that he was, she asked me if he still had his dentures.

But rather than going too long, I want to close with my philosophy of the reasons we conduct Christian funerals. As I tell the families, we have four goals in every service. First, we remember and honor the deceased, being thankful for his or her life and the memories they leave us. Second, we seek to comfort all who are grieving, easing their pain and giving them hope. Third, we praise and honor God, thanking him for his gift of life – for that person and for all of us. And fourth, we preach the Gospel to all who attend, calling on them to believe in Jesus Christ and what he has done for them by his own death and resurrection, that they too might not fear death but look forward instead to eternal life. To fail any of those goals is to let down all who mourn, for even though Christians mourn the loss of loved ones, Paul reminds us, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14).

No matter how many funerals there are, or whatever human failings enter into the services, the great message of hope is the same as what I read at that first service years ago: Jesus is the resurrection and the Life. Whoever believes in him, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in him shall never die. May you also believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing have life in his name. (John 20:31).

May the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.

Read: Job 38-41, Isaiah 40, John 11