FUNERAL APPLES AND ORANGES?

So I went to a non-denominational funeral yesterday and was actually quite excited to go to see how someone else did things.  Of course, I was making comparisons between what happened there and what happens at a Catholic funeral.  The thing that I was most struck by however was the lack of participation.  I don’t mean that by way of people not singing or praying (because     they did) but by the role of the laity (at least this one instance.)

We were there largely to listen and pray along with the minister.  He asked us to make Jesus our personal Lord and Savior so that we might join the deceased in heaven.  He prayed over us and asked God to bless us and keep us close to Him and to bring us comfort in this time of sadness.  And there were a lot of stories about the deceased which were at times poignant and humorous.  It was quite touching.  Our “job” was to be moved.  It was billed as “paying our last respects.”  But to whom did we pay them?  The deceased (in this theology) can neither know of now benefit from them.  So it was an exercise in remembering the good (we were told to throw away the bad thoughts) and buoying ourselves up to face life with the lessons learned from this one.  The onus on the preacher is heavy. 

Then I think of a Catholic funeral.  When properly understood and we are at our best, the congregation is not there to simply be ministered to.  They are there to work.  At baptism they were anointed kings, prophets, and priests.  As priests, there are prayers to be offered.  Parts of the Mass belong to the congregation and they are to pray them.  Of course, our theology differs from that of the Protestant Churches in that we believe in the communion of saints; that is, that there is only one Body of Christ with Christ as the head and that Body cannot be completely severed in half even by death so that somehow, in Christ, we are all still somehow mysteriously united.  And because our theology of salvation also differs, there is work to be done for the one who has passed.  We pray for them that their soul may be sped on to heaven.  The ordained priest along with the priesthood of the people offer the One Sacrifice to the Lord on behalf of the one they love and all of the faithfully departed.  Healing comes not by being comforted but through ministry.  The priest still carries much of the burden of the celebration but the totality of the responsibility is shared.

At the end of the service yesterday we were just done other than getting on with our life in Jesus and remembering the good things about the deceased and building on them.  For the Catholic, we remember as is said in the rites that, “All the bonds of friendship and affection that knit us together throughout life do not unravel with death.”  Our prayers for each other continue.  Masses may be offered, candles lit, prayers said, an active relationship in God still to be nurtured.

Or at least it seems to me. 

WHEN THE DEAD COME TO VISIT

So,

The dead spent the night at my place last night.  This is not unusual only for a very small group of people I would imagine.  For me it was quite unusual.

My over night guest was Fr. Ted.  I know his soul is on its journey and all that, but it still seemed kind of rude to leave his body on its own.  I was joking with the servers that we were going to sign up to keep vigil with Father all through the night and that they needed to sign up for an hour.  Their relief was palpable when they found out I was joking.

But, God bless them, some of the adults asked, “Should we?  I’d put in some time.”  I was sure, however, that he would be just fine.

I did go over and visit.  The church was locked and quiet and we could chat for a moment.  Some priest friends came over last night and we went to pray compline with Father Ted.  It was solemn and, at least I thought, kind of moving.  We even closed with Fr. Ted’s famous lines, “For protection at home, for protection at work, for protection in the car, and protection from the Blessed Virgin Mary!”  I don’t think he ever got the irony of that wording.

The funeral is today (11:00AM).  Unfortunately Father has been off of the radar screen for a spell and most of the people who would have been associated well with him have gone on before him.  There is a priest, Fr. Oleksiak, who has been doing a Yeoman’s job of taking care of him these last few years.  The Bishop will be here.  Despite the fear that there will be more ministers at the funeral than attendees, he will still come.  Father was, after all, a true son of the Bishop.

I love my parish.  There was no way to announce to anybody that Father had died and that there were services so we relied on work of mouth and they turned out yesterday for the vigil.  Most did not know him or know him well at all.  That is charity and a work of mercy.  How  proud I am to be their pastor.

I was afforded the privilege of preaching vespers yesterday.  I started off with this quote:

“Priests should look upon death as one of the last functions of the priesthood. It is their last Mass. 

This mortal body with which you were born at the incarnation was, for you, O Jesus, only the material of the sacrifice. 

This is what this mortal body should be for each of those who share your priesthood. They must make use of it, as you did, to preach the truth, to edify men. But the essential, sacerdotal use they must make of it is to die. … 

They should, then, prepare for it as they prepare to celebrate Mass, because the death of a priest is a Mass, united to your death and consummated in yours for the salvation of mankind.”

Fr. Gaston Courtois

Rest in peace Fr. Ted

MONDAY DIARY: ALMOST EXCRUCIATINGLY TRUE STORIES: PUT A STRING THOUGH THE SLEEVES OF YOUR COAT AND TIE YOUR MITTENS TOGETHER SO YOU NEVER LOSE THEM

So,

Regular readers of Adam's Ale will recall that recently St. Sebastian laid to rest its third pastor, the well beloved Fr. McDonough.  It is a tribute to him that, even though he had been retired for about two decades, we still expected an onslaught of people for his funeral and a council full of clerics.  

I have to laugh when (obviously non-Catholics with little contact with or knowledge of the Church) claim that "those Catholics" are all a bunch of mindless rule followers in lock step with the Pope.  (Let me pause for a moment to wipe the tears from my eyes from laughing too hard.  There, that's better.)  It may be that no-one will ever be able to destroy the Catholic Church, but if you want proof that it is solely the Holy Spirit holding this whole mess together, try doing anything with priests that requires them to cooperate in a single goal with a single purpose requiring even little effort.  It just aint gonna happen.  (I can say this because A) I am a priest and B) I am very guilty of this.)

So when it came to preparing for the priests to show up for the funeral, I knew it was going to be like herding cats (see video above) to get them all to vest in the right place.  Our parking is horrible, our campus confusing, I am too much of a control freak, and it was freezing outside for the first time all winter.

So I tried some preemptive strategies:  

Now, to be fair, for those priests that showed up early, found parking, weren't rushed, and weren't afraid of dogs, this was no problem.  But for the guys that showed up just in a nick of time, who had to park three city blocks away, were cold, irritated, and just wanted to change and get into a pew, they were not interested in the finer points of finding the exact proper place to vest.

As you walked around the buildings, running into vesting priests was like running into Munchkins in Munchkinland, or pigeons in the attic of an abandoned warehouse, or or or former movie stars in an upscale rehab facility.  Hallways, bathrooms, storage closets, baptistry, you name it, there was probably a priest or two vesting in it.

And really, I didn't mind.  No really.  Even though I like things in their place (that was one of my Mother's mottos: A place for everything and everything in its place) I understood the spirit of the day and the difficulty for the guys who lost a close friend and who just didn't want to fuss.

THAT BEING SAID:  It was AMAZING how much clothing was left behind.  A walk around the buildings turned up coats, jackets, hats, and single gloves.  Remember I said it was the first day of earnest winter?  I have no idea how they got home without contracting hypothermia.  THIS IS WHY WE SHOULD ALWAYS LEAVE A CALLING CARD IN OUR COATS!  I have no idea to whom they belong and since we all wear black, it's not like you can show it around and someone would say, "Hey, that looks like Pete's"  

THE (OBJECT/SUBJECT) OF MY AFFECTION CAN CHANGE MY COMPLECTION FROM WHITE TO ROSEY RED.

In the past week, three separate but similar incidences have occurred with people connect to this parish.  The details of all three are mixed together in order not to embarrass those involved.

 

It goes something like this:  “Father, I received a phone call from my sister.  They found my mother in a closet and want to know if I want her.  If not they are just going to start throwing everything, including her, into a dumpster.  What should I do?”

 

This is becoming less and less rare a conversation.  (Life as a priest is interesting.)  The reason it is becoming less rare is twofold:  1) The Church relaxed its rule against cremation and 2) the continued loss of respect for the dignity of the person including and especially the body.  

 

The first:  Now that the Church is no longer fighting the heresy concerning the resurrection of the body (there were those who were using cremation as a theological statement against the Church’s teaching – go figure) it no longer feels it is necessary to have a moratorium on cremation. 

 

Unfortunately that coincided (secondly) with a growing mentality of the person as an object rather than a subject (brilliantly pointed out by a priest friend at a recent meeting.  Hi O)  While living, the respect and dignity that we owe other human beings because of their inherent nature of being made in the likeness and image of God (even if they don’t look “right,” or are too small or have thrown in it away . . . ) has greatly diminished causing human beings to be objects to be used.  The greatest promoter of this mentality is porn.  No, if you look at porn today, you will not be a destroyer of humanity tomorrow, but nationally it feeds a mentality that some people can be used and then discarded. 

 

Abortion double feeds this.  It allows a woman (and in some incidences a man) to be used to fulfill a personal sexual need and when everything goes according to Hoyle and another person is conceived, the baby may be aborted thus cutting any natural ties you may have had with the woman and any responsibility toward the child.  I can walk away.  For much the same reason contraception is frowned upon.

 

A long list could be developed here but that will suffice.

 

So now there is Great Aunt Feefee’s ashes.  Instead of treating her body with great reverence and giving ancient custom of respectfully burying the body (even if it is only ashes), the body becomes an object to be used.  It is made into jewelry, passed out like party favors, or kept on display on the mantle until it ends up in a closet and someone else divesting an estate comes across it and throws it in the trash.

 

OF COURSE holding on to ashes is done with the best of intentions.  People have the desire to be close to their loved one and to have a connection.  But as Catholics we believe in the communion of saints.  The connection we have through prayer is far more real and immediate.  A body is much different than holding on to a rosary or picture or piece of jewelry.  We owe our loved ones the dignity of being a subject in their own right and to treat their body as a former Temple of the Holy Spirit, not an object of our desire to be turned in to a conversation piece.

MONDAY DIARY: DAWN IN DARKNESS

There was a death in Cleveland recently. Without getting into any details it was quite a bit in the news and there is, in fact, still an investigation going on. Every day I read the newspaper waiting to see if there will be any finality to the case. So far there is none.

A priest friend of mine had the funeral. It ripped him up pretty bad for it is a very sad story with lots of complications. What do you say to the family? How does one deal with the tragedy of the event and rectify it to a loving God when people are feeling so poorly?

It is an interesting thought that for most of the sensational deaths one reads about in the papers, there is a minister of some sort staying up that night praying (hopefully) trying to figure out what to say at the funeral.

The notification at the parish usually begins, as it did last week here, with a phone call from a funeral home to our secretary. My first notice of it will be the funeral chalkboard in the back hallway. This chalkboard has “Funerals” written at the top and often has things written on it such as, “Cleveland Browns” or “Indians” – not by my hand however – I like my teams. These will be carefully erased and more serious information written allowing everyone from priests, musicians, to those who work in the church building to know what to expect and when the buildings would be busy.

Such was the case last week when a funeral came in that was as difficult is one my friend had the week before. Generally the next step is to call the family and let them know we are praying for them and thinking of them and invite them in to talk about their loved one and plan the funeral. Sometimes these are joyous meetings, filled with great memories and hope in God’s promises. Sometimes they are tragic and difficult.

Vigil prayers are held during the calling hours. The calling hours is a time that the family very much wants to connect with their support group and it is always a blessing to me that they make the time to stop a pray for a couple of minutes. Sometimes this is easy, sometimes a challenge when those who want to stop by and pay their last respects are waiting in a line out the door in the snow or rain.

Then comes the business of writing the homily – the eight to ten minutes we have to remind people of their faith, their hope for the deceased, our God’s great mercy, the joy under our tears that we can walk out of this Mass with. Sometimes it is easy, sometimes it is not.

This last one was one of the more difficult ones. Not much was coming to mind. The morning of the funeral I woke very early. Making a cup of coffee and gathering all kinds of materials I sequestered myself in our study (dubbed the Chesterton Room) and sat down for a couple of hours trying to formulate some words.

The funeral actually turned out to be a buoy for me. Often at funerals people are so distraught (or they have been so out of touch with their faith) that much direction must be given. “Please stand now as we . . .” “Please be seated as the . . .” This particular funeral was chuck full of college students who knew their faith. They showed early for Mass. Some prayed the rosary, some made Stations of the Cross, they made the responses at Mass loudly and clearly, and no direction was needed to be given.

It was a terribly sad situation, but the faith of these young people filled me with such joy. What a blessing they were. What hope they gave.

MONDAY DIARY: 31 INCHES

There was a funeral last week of a person whose casket was only 31 inches long. The infant child of one of our parish families died due to complications of an illness. I thank God profusely that we have a rite to follow even in situations such as these. There is comfort in knowing that the greater Church understands this event and has words to be said. But that only goes so far. The Church sets you up, provides words, a wonderful context, ceremonies to perform, but at least at one point says, “You’re on kid,” and pushes you forward to the mike, stands in the wings and says, “Say something!”

Sebastian and I went on a long walk to ponder exactly what that should be. There are things that are true but achieve little good and possibly some negative consequences in the saying. Things such as, “She is in a better place,” or “Its God’s will” bring little comfort, can be way too confusing, and brings little peace to the mourners. The last thing I would want to hear if I lost someone I loved (even Sebastian) is, “Don’t be too upset. It’s God’s will.” As if that explains anything.

That I will never have children may mean that I’ll never know some of the joys and pride of having progeny, but it also means I will never really understand what it would be like to lose an infant. I can only be in awe of the profound sorrow of the parents.

The child occupied my imagination and prayers for days. Prayer time, walks, showers; I think about that little one and wonder what she needs me to say to those still kicking around the parish.

Some difficult things arise when talking to the person at the funeral home. There a technical concerns that hadn’t crossed my mind. There was not a funeral truck small enough to hold the casket. How would we perform the rite? The pallbearers would just have to carry the casket the entire way into church instead of ceremonially walking beside it on the truck. What about a pall? What would be used? Sadly in going through our linens we discovered that we did indeed have a tiny pall and an even smaller one for urns that we did not realize we had.

So it was the day and time of the funeral and Mother Church pushed me up to the microphone in my costume and whispered loudly, “Okay. Talk now!” It would have been an error I think to try to explain anything. There is no explanation for events such as this. Instead we examined what happened, what is, and realize that sometimes things are not God’s will in the way we will to order a cup of coffee. And it may be that sometimes God needs us to cry His tears as we ask Him to do something to bring some good out of a stupid and senseless situation.

On a lighter note, the day before this I celebrated a service for my 96 year old Aunt who passed away. (Well, that certainly didn’t start off sounding light – but give it a chance.) I love my family but they do things at their own pace. The Spetiches show up early and leave on time. The Valenchecks show up late and leave after the lights are shut off. That is partly why I have so many clocks around me. I have this thing about time.

Well, my Aunt was very Valencheck and speaking with her family they talked about how she was always late for everything. And the more important the event, the later she was. So we were to meet at the cemetery for a graveside service and the Valenchecks gathered relatively on time (at least for us) and we got to gabbing – and gabbing – and gabbing out on the cemetery path while the tent with the chairs sat empty. Some time later a four wheeler pulls up to the tent and starts moving things around. “They see that there are so many of us that they are making more room and bringing out chairs” I thought to myself. This was not the case however. Seeing us still standing out by our cars and chatting the workers had assumed we were finished were tearing things down. I had to jog over and exclaim, “Wait! We haven’t started yet!”

Of course they were embarrassed and apologetic as were we. Thank goodness it happened though or we might still be standing on the path taking at this very moment. And true to form, Aunt Mitz was late even getting into her grave – the more important the occasion the later she was – leaving this world the same way she lived it.

DEAD AGAIN?

I will have the honor to perform (what is for me) an unusual funeral service today for someone with whom I was close. The person being buried is Catholic but has long since stopped practicing other than for funerals, weddings, and the odd ordination. Her family’s belief does not necessarily extend to an afterlife. So, in large part it guts most of what I usually have to say at moments like this and it makes me contemplate what we have. Some of the problems are tricky and challenging. How do I end a prayer? I can’t say through Christ our Lord – or make the Sign of the Cross. Though they understand that I am a committed Catholic Christian and these things will just have to be a part of it, it will not make a sense to make too much of it since it more likely will turn the family off than anything else. Other things are more challenging. For the Christian, in our sadness we have hope. Even if tears should stream down our faces there is always a little flicker of joy that the dates that will appear below the name of the person on their grave marker will not simply mark a birth and death year, but two birth years; one into this world, one into the next. When we look at a graveyard we not only see those to whom we had to say goodbye, but we also call to mind that they are waiting to greet us again when we come to join them. And not in just some anonymous way – we don’t become part of some great energy or recyclable life system with no memory, but in a real and personable way. If we are so graced to enter into the kingdom of Heaven, I shall see those I love again for that is way Christ is in heaven and He is the foretaste and promise of what shall happen to us.

But what if you don’t have this hope? What does one do with death? We comfort each other, we remember, and we try to take what we appreciate in the life of the person and carry it on and hope that their memory lives on as long as their grave stone lasts. But like a torn down mansion – the person is simply gone. Look at this gravestone. This person did a lot – accomplished a lot. I know it because this person had it printed out on his gravestone. Is that the extent of our lives? What is left behind is a memorial in bronze we hope someone keeps the weeds from overtaking? This stone utterly depresses me.

The odd part to me is that it takes just as much faith to believe that there is not a God as it does to believe that there is one. I for one am glad I have God. Even if it turns out that I am wrong (and I do not believe so) I will have lived life in more hope and joy beleiving those I loved did not cease to exists at the end of the dash and date and that we are still united in Christ and we shall enjoy each other’s company again.

ARE YOU DYING FOR A LITTLE MORE SELF REVELATION?

As I have traveled from assignment to assignment and parish to parish I was struck at the differences between the way funeral homes practice their trade. Some I thought good and appropriate, others I found almost offensive. One of my favorites was a guy who directed the pall bearers with all the tact of a foreman instructing a crane operator where to load a giant crate on a ship. “Alright men! One inch forward – ah – too far! Back! Okay, when I count to three lower very slowly. 1..2..3 Very good men. Release and step back!”

It was not until I was on retreat and the retreat director pointed out that the way we celebrate a funeral tells a lot about who we are. There are the standard aspects particularly among Catholics; calling hours, vigil services, Mass, burial, wake . . . But HOW we do these things can vary greatly and what I was disappointed in with some of the undertakers was less about how good of a job they were doing and more about what I had become accustomed to growing up.

This became apparent on this retreat as we were from many different nationalities and backgrounds. We were talking about death and a priest from Africa told how quickly things went there and how the family was required to feed everybody who showed up – and they wanted many people to show for that was a mark of honor. He went on to talk about what a great celebration there was for their mother.

From that point the retreat director would ask each priest about his background and most times he could tell them how they probably celebrated death. For example when the guy next to me said that he was Irish everybody smiled. Irish wakes are seen as very demonstrative and celebratory to put it in the very best light and all of us had been exposed to such things.

Now these are certainly not hard and fast rules but there is a general tendency. So when he asked me what nationality I was and I said Slovenian, he folded his hands in his lap, nodded, and uttered a very somber, “Ohhhh.” Then he added, “I would imagine that your experience is couched with great solemnity and respect verging on stoicism. There was a lot of truth to that though the edge of it has worn off as the community becomes more and more Americanized. But I do remember Mr. Haun who was the local funeral director that most people from my nationality parish used being a man of great gravitas. During ceremonies he would speak in hushed tones. Unlike the funeral director at the top who directed the carrying of the casket in loud and clear tones, Mr. Haun did much of his direction with intelligent glances, hushed tones, and discreet hand motions.

There is nothing in any of these expressions that is right or wrong (I have come to realize), they are different ways of expressing the same things. But it is interesting to realize that how one celebrates death has a lot to do with how you were raised and in what community. It can be a little self revelatory and something interesting to mull over.

MONDAY DIARY: SO LONG GOOD MAN

It is an interesting thing to die as a priest. This past weekend we had the reading where Abraham was asked to look up into the sky and count the number of the stars if he can and this would be the number of his descendants. Elsewhere in the Gospel we are told that nobody gives up wife and family for the sake of the kingdom without it being returned hundreds of times over. Both seem to be the lot of the priest. Even if the priest was just your typical guy, not over talented or good looking, or even particularly liked, he is still respected as a priest and his spiritual family turns out for him.

The Rev. James Schleicher (ordination class of 1954) was buried today. The three priests from Saint Sebastian arrived at St. Francis about forty minutes early and snagged one of the few remaining parking places. In general priests haul their own gear with them and so need a place to prepare themselves. We were ushered to the school refectory where we dumped all of our winter coverings and put on our albs and stoles. As we were ready we walked across the parking lot in bunches to the church albs and stoles blowing in the wind. One of the nice things about being a priest in this situation is that you have a seat saved for you. We were directed first down the aisle to view Father Schleicher, say a prayer for him, and then over to the designated area for priests.

A priest is generally buried in full dress for Mass. It used to be a tradition that a priest would come to help vest at the funeral home but I think today that is usually just handled by the funeral people. I’ll have to find out from classmate what was the case in this situation. The casket in which he was laid is known in some circles as the priest casket. The lid opens full length and is removable for calling hours.



The Mass was beautiful and it is our tradition that the priests sing for their deceased brother. At the end of the Mass we sing, “In Paradisum.” It galvanizes us together and the rafters ring with the sound of priests voices singing at full volume. We then are the first out in procession but we line the way like a victory tunnel from the church to the hearse. After our brother is safely in the vehicle we break ranks to talk, tell stories, and catch up heading back over to the school to change and perhaps have a little something to eat.

It may be true that a priest dies alone but he is waked by his large family.

MONDAY DIARY: MINDING YOUR Ps AND Qs AND Fs

Last week I discovered just how deeply we have invested in becoming a two priest parish instead of a one priest parish. Our ever vigilant, hard working parochial vicar went away on retreat leaving me to man the ship by myself. There was no fear in this. It was a one man ship when I got here.

Then he left.

Then our priest in residence got the flu.

Then the pastors emeritus also skipped town.

And then there was one.

Then somebody inadvertently said the magic curse. Theater has a similar problem. A play becomes cursed when someone utters a line from Macbeth. “Out darn spot!” A careful ritual is observed among the superstitious to remove the curse (as can be seen in “Shakespeare in Love” in order to remove the curse and save the show – and in turn save box office receipts.

The line in parish life that causes similar strife involves the “F” word. No, not that one – the other one. And it is usually couched in this innocent enough sentence: “Gee, we have not had a funeral in a long time.” As soon as it was uttered I knew I was doomed.

Two phone calls came in rapid succession. There would be two funerals on the first day the parochial vicar would be gone! A day later another one came in for my otherwise day away. Later another came on for the week’s end. Not as many as some parishes – more than we are used to – and a lot for when you are suddenly and completely alone (priestwise).

There is a reason that priests of our diocese are released from their obligation to pray the Office on the day they have a funeral. Every funeral means there is a homily to be written, at least one meeting with the family to be had, phone calls to be made, paperwork to be filled out, a visit to the funeral home with prayers, the Mass, the trip to the graveyard, and the time rescheduling appointments that had to be cancelled.

This is not a complaint. It is why we are ordained. Firemen don’t get upset because their day was interrupted by a fire. It is what they are there for. But I bet they secretly wish that all the fires weren’t during the same week that all their buddies were away. I wonder if they have a similar forbidden sentence. I can imagine a rookie fireman saying, “Why don’t we fire up some brats on the grill?” and his fellow fire fighters jumping up, shushing him and saying, “Don’t say the “f” word!”

“What? ‘Fire?’”

“Arg! He said it again! Get him!”

But fortunately just then the fire alarm rings and he gets away with some dirty glances and the lesson to watch is language.

IN CASE OF MARTIAN ABDUCTION

In reality nobody – well, almost nobody prepares for a Martian abduction. I mean really, the chances are so small. But if every you were abducted by Martians you would think, “Why didn’t read that pamphlet and have a small bag packed and ready to go - and granola bars?”

With that in mind I ask you to consider reading this short post even though you may find it completely out of relevancy for you at the moment or unpleasant reading. This is just a short to-do list in the inevitable event of . . .

Phone calls come in to the rectory quite often with the plea, “I think that I am supposed to call you and arrange a time for funeral. My (insert relationship here) died, I’ve never done this before and am not sure what to do.” Well, my friends, here is what I suggest you do in simple format. It is a check off list of what would work around here – exact details may change in your location.

When a person is seriously ill call early for a priest to anoint him. Do NOT wait until death is imminent. You want to make sure that a priest is available to come in time. Let the priest know the state of the person (not an immediate emergency but soon – or – they have a few hours etc.) Have an address, phone number, and possibly directions ready.

When your loved one dies call the funeral home of your choice. There is a reason they are called undertakers. They under take all the arrangements for the family. A good funeral home that is familiar with the Catholic Church will immediately notify the parish of choice and arrange a day and time for you and handle the finances.

It would be a good idea to have spoken with your loved one about funeral plans – preferred readings, songs, etc. You time will be taxed between the death and funeral. Be prepared. You may need to arrange a meeting at the parish to discuss the Mass. You may need to call the rectory if your parish provides a funeral luncheon.

Eulogies are not part of the Mass and should not be done. The proper place is at the funeral home or luncheon.

The priest, deacon, or other person might perform the following: A prayer service at the funeral home the day before, the funeral Mass, and committal service. Some parishes still meet the body at the funeral home and lead the cortege to the Church but that is becoming rarer.

Now about those Martians . . .

FRIDAY FAIR - A DEAD TOPIC

I know it’s Easter Week but there seems to be a rash of fathers of priests dying of late so funeral symbolism seems to be on my mind. I remember when I was young the rites were explained a bit more in depth in the ceremony but now are a little bit more subtle.

The body is met at the entrance to the church and casket is sprinkled with holy water. This is a reference to the person’s baptism. The end of the prayer at the blessing of the water at baptism reads, “May all those who are buried with Christ in the death of baptism rise also with Him to newness of life.” The “fullness of the symbol” if you will takes place when the person being baptized is completely submerged. This is likened to being buried with Jesus in the tomb, we dying to death as it were. When we come out of the water then as new creatures in Christ we resurrect with Him to newness of life. During the opening rites of a funeral then when the casket is sprinkled these words are said, “In baptism N. died with Christ, may s/he also share with Him eternal life.”

The next thing that takes place that is currently devoid (and rightly so) of any commentary is placing of the pall which is a large white cloth that covers the entire casket. It is often somewhat ornamented or has on it some Christian symbol. After a person is baptized they are often dressed in a white robe and this prayer or one similar is said, “N., you have become a new creation and have clothed yourself in Christ. Receive this baptismal garment and bring it unstained to the judgment seat of our Lord Jesus Christ, so that you may have everlasting life.” The pall then is a reflection of that first white garment and a sign of the person’s dignity as a son or daughter of God.

The casket is then carried into the church. This is not done arbitrarily. A lay person will be brought in feet first, a priest however will have his head nearest the altar. I’m not certain why but I have my hunches. I would imagine it is feet first for those who stood before the altar for all his life and for a priest it represents his standing before the congregation leading them in the worship of God. That’s my guess anyway. If anybody KNOWS why I’d appreciate knowing as I’ve not found anything.

NOT SUCH A DEAD TOPIC

Do you want to know what one of the best things about being a parochial vicar is? You can say this line, “I’m sorry, I have no power here. I’m afraid you will have to speak to the pastor about that.” So when you are torn about a certain practice at a parish you can take the easy way out by choosing to no longer think about it since it is your duty to be obedient to the pastor. Such is the case with eulogies at funerals.

I hate them.

Well, to be clear, I hate them at mass.

Okay, I don’t hate them. There is something healing it seems about them but it is like trying to make friends with a mean cat. You want to try to befriend them but all too often you get scratched. Badly.

Perhaps it was with the advent of Television that funeral masses have taken a funny turn from being about worshiping and praising God, showing and building our faith in the afterlife, commending a soul into the Father’s care, to celebrating the life of an individual. So at some point in the liturgy we stop everything, ask everybody to sit down, and someone comes up to give a talk – something expressly forbidden at any other ordinary mass.

Here is where the trouble begins. At the top of the list are those things that are not topics for Church. It usually begins with a sly look over at me and the introduction, “I probably shouldn’t say this in front of Father but . . .” and then they talk about the time they got so drunk, or the time they went to see this really fat stripper (that was uncomfortable for everybody) or some such thing. They should have followed their first impulse not to say anything.


Then there are the theological points proclaimed with heart-felt vigor that are none-the-less wrong. Very often – very, very often the pronouncement is made of the fact that the person we are gathered to pray for is already in heaven. "We know this is true," or some such thing is said. But if true, then why have the mass for them? Will that person be denied prayers now which they might need because, after all, they are in heaven?

Then there are those who promise to be short but who are quite verbose. On more than one occasion when the "short" eulogy has gone on so long that I have had to walk over and quietly tell the person that they need to stop now because the next funeral was waiting outside. One time apologizing to the widow profusely asked her if she would like for me to invite the speakers to finished either at the grave or at the luncheon responded, "Oh heavens no! Keep those windbags shut!"

Then there is the one time that the person speaking was from a Protestant denomination and used the pulpit to evangelize. That was horrible.

We do have rules but they are rarely followed. We could demand to see a copy before hand (and try from time to time) but nobody has one written in advance and if it is too horrible it is hard to say, "have this rewritten in an hour and submit it again before the mass.

Now don't think that I make these rules for others but fail to observe them myself. For my own mother the eulogy did not take place at the mass (She would have hated it being done anyway) and I have left similar instruction for my own funeral. But perhaps they are healing and SHOULD be done. They can be done at other appropriate times such as at the funeral home during one of the scheduled prayer times, at the grave site, or at the luncheon. And true, there are some times that it simply cannot be avoided. Perhaps there are no calling hours, or the person was significant in such a way that this would be the only venue large enough to gather the people who would like to hear it.

I guess in the end this post will not be very helpful in that it doesn't call for a ban on eulogies nor a wholesale approval of them. For now I can (must) rely on the pastor's discretion. But perhaps this might help someone be aware of some concerns that may be out there. With that in mind, If you are writing a eulogy I have these (personal) suggestions:

1. At least consider giving it outside of the mass setting.
2. If it is in the mass setting, don't say things that you would not expect to hear from the pulpit.
3. Express hope and trust in Jesus' saving action, but shy away from someone being declared a saint in heaven already. They may still need prayers.
4. Be prepared. It is easy in that emotional state to be distracted. Write what you are going to say down.
5. Please, please, please mention something about the person's faith life.
6. It is Okay to be short. Admit it, you hate it when the homily is over five minutes.

This is usually a touchy topic and it is difficult to speak about. If you have any thoughts I would be open to them.

Really.