As a Christian, I had dual purpose in my eulogy. First to praise God in some way for the life of the person. Secondly to capture who they were to the best of my ability. Funny stories and stories that captured their humanity. Stories to make you laugh and cry, smile and contemplate. But I realized, in all 4 services, the goal was to bring sinners (who would never come into a church) to the grave in order to bring them to repentance.
How do I know? Because they all said that. In each sermon they said exactly that. And the stories that they told about the deceased had precious little to do with the person. But it was building on a thesis in their life of when they realized they needed Christ. And how, if they were alive, they would want you do think about the same thing.
Point in fact: My father was NOT a religious man. When my mom died, he did start going to church and find comfort. But he was a blue-collar, gruff, hilarious guy with a big heart and an accomplished swearing vocabulary. My parents had moved down to North Carolina in 2002 and that's when I was first acquainted with the "church on every corner" culture. Their small town had something like four churches. When he passed away, within two days they had a 2 hour service complete with sets of music and a lengthy sermon. It was cookie cutter and felt like: insert name here. But it wasn't about him. It was about preaching to the choir (literally the whole church seemed to be in the choir...)
I did touch upon his faith in my Eulogy. But I wanted to paint a complete picture of who he was, including the time he made anatomically correct Snow-women on the front lawn...
My Mom's service was similar. She was spiritual, but not religious for most of her life. She was definitely a child of the 60s with interests in natural healing, crystals, Reflexology and I still remember the pungent smell of Kombucha mushroom tea fermenting in the pantry. The sermon was all about her deep faith in the cookie cutter evangelical faith and did not at all reflect her views. Again, my eulogy did focus on her search for faith, but that was a small part. She was empathetic in a way I have never seen. She was sweet and quirky, but had a fierce love for anyone in need. A love that inspired me, although we drove each other absolutely crazy.
But I didn't notice the spin until it came to my ex-mother-in-law and her service. This was my first Eulogy as a humanist. I wrote it out knowing that 95% of the people there would be from the church I used to attend. But I didn't write it for them. I wrote it for my ex-wife and her family including her father who was sitting near me. I wrote it to bring out her humanity and her struggle as part of a collective struggle. To draw on each other and find common bond in our journeys. I tried to make people laugh with my anecdotes and stories and smile to think of her as a person. Not the object of a preacher's altar call.
I knew I did my job when one woman from the church looked me in the eye after (she knew I had left the church) and said "I hope you took what the pastor said to heart. And I hope you repent." I smiled, Yes! I had done my job. I had cut through the false feeling of peace that some people had to make them face the sweet memory of this mother, wife, grandmother, aunt, sister and friend. I had reached her humanity! It was their chance to recruit followers by casting a shadow on the grave. It was my chance to turn to the people there and remind them that a grave is waiting for everyone of every faith. What is important is the memories we made, the people we touched, the connections that we made, not the post-mortem shadow.
It was a wonderful feeling to break through the proselytizing. When I was a Christian, I felt cheated out of the chance to mourn by the focus on God's justice, love and his will. I had to quickly "be ok with it" and move right on to sharing the gospel. But I wasn't ok with either of my parent's death. I wasn't ok at all. I wanted to cry, I wanted to remember! I wanted to be human and think about who each person was and build a dam of memories against the onslaught of time. I had lost something along with others that were close to them. I wanted time to weep before it became an advertisement.
None of these preachers are hustlers or bad people. Each had a profound influence on me as a person. But funerals should not be about telling a person they will end up like the deceased and they need to deal with that... just my opinion, of course!
How do I know? Because they all said that. In each sermon they said exactly that. And the stories that they told about the deceased had precious little to do with the person. But it was building on a thesis in their life of when they realized they needed Christ. And how, if they were alive, they would want you do think about the same thing.
Point in fact: My father was NOT a religious man. When my mom died, he did start going to church and find comfort. But he was a blue-collar, gruff, hilarious guy with a big heart and an accomplished swearing vocabulary. My parents had moved down to North Carolina in 2002 and that's when I was first acquainted with the "church on every corner" culture. Their small town had something like four churches. When he passed away, within two days they had a 2 hour service complete with sets of music and a lengthy sermon. It was cookie cutter and felt like: insert name here. But it wasn't about him. It was about preaching to the choir (literally the whole church seemed to be in the choir...)
I did touch upon his faith in my Eulogy. But I wanted to paint a complete picture of who he was, including the time he made anatomically correct Snow-women on the front lawn...
My Mom's service was similar. She was spiritual, but not religious for most of her life. She was definitely a child of the 60s with interests in natural healing, crystals, Reflexology and I still remember the pungent smell of Kombucha mushroom tea fermenting in the pantry. The sermon was all about her deep faith in the cookie cutter evangelical faith and did not at all reflect her views. Again, my eulogy did focus on her search for faith, but that was a small part. She was empathetic in a way I have never seen. She was sweet and quirky, but had a fierce love for anyone in need. A love that inspired me, although we drove each other absolutely crazy.
But I didn't notice the spin until it came to my ex-mother-in-law and her service. This was my first Eulogy as a humanist. I wrote it out knowing that 95% of the people there would be from the church I used to attend. But I didn't write it for them. I wrote it for my ex-wife and her family including her father who was sitting near me. I wrote it to bring out her humanity and her struggle as part of a collective struggle. To draw on each other and find common bond in our journeys. I tried to make people laugh with my anecdotes and stories and smile to think of her as a person. Not the object of a preacher's altar call.
I knew I did my job when one woman from the church looked me in the eye after (she knew I had left the church) and said "I hope you took what the pastor said to heart. And I hope you repent." I smiled, Yes! I had done my job. I had cut through the false feeling of peace that some people had to make them face the sweet memory of this mother, wife, grandmother, aunt, sister and friend. I had reached her humanity! It was their chance to recruit followers by casting a shadow on the grave. It was my chance to turn to the people there and remind them that a grave is waiting for everyone of every faith. What is important is the memories we made, the people we touched, the connections that we made, not the post-mortem shadow.
It was a wonderful feeling to break through the proselytizing. When I was a Christian, I felt cheated out of the chance to mourn by the focus on God's justice, love and his will. I had to quickly "be ok with it" and move right on to sharing the gospel. But I wasn't ok with either of my parent's death. I wasn't ok at all. I wanted to cry, I wanted to remember! I wanted to be human and think about who each person was and build a dam of memories against the onslaught of time. I had lost something along with others that were close to them. I wanted time to weep before it became an advertisement.
None of these preachers are hustlers or bad people. Each had a profound influence on me as a person. But funerals should not be about telling a person they will end up like the deceased and they need to deal with that... just my opinion, of course!
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