The first funeral of a close family member I experienced happened
in January of 1987 with the death of my maternal grandfather. He was a huge
influence in my life, and I remember that funeral vividly. This past week
(Saturday, April 29, 2017) I went to the exact same funeral. Different person,
same funeral.
The woman we buried last week was 93 when she died, but she had
the exact same hymns, exact same scripture readings, the exact same song sung
by a soloist (different singer, however...). Amazing. 30 years later, I am
transported to a large Lutheran congregation in Duluth, MN all the while
sitting in the balcony of my congregation here in Blair, NE (My colleague often
does the funerals in our congregation. I am for "emergency use only"
in this regard.)
So, I got to thinking about that...
This woman would have been 63 when my grandfather died. No doubt,
she would have been one of the women serving lunch. She would have respected
and mourned my grandfather (everybody else did, why not her?) And she might have
even said, "That was a nice funeral" for him. And 30 years later she
got the exact same funeral.
And the women (and a few men now too) who served the lunch
respected and mourned her passing. They said it was a "nice" funeral.
And perhaps a few of them, if they could be honest, would hope that they too
won't have to worry about their death for another 30 years or more?
But did nothing change in 30 years? I mean, it's the same Bible,
and there are limited options for "traditional" funeral passages, but
no changes? Really??? Music didn't change? (And why do Lutheran congregations
sing In the Garden,
anyhow? I mean, the song is almost anti-Lutheran theology.) But perhaps there's
a reason, and even more so, perhaps these scriptures will be read and these songs
be sung at some funeral 30 years from now.
Why?
Because for most of us our piety is formed around events like
funerals and weddings. (I've done so many weddings with the same music and
scriptures and even poems and rituals that I couldn't even begin to count them
all.) And this is just what it is for pietists out on the prairie. At a
funeral, you get some Swedish soul music (O Støre God), a tour through the garden with
Jesus, and the promise of God to make a room for you in the afterlife,
preferably heaven. Top if off with What
a Friend We Have in Jesus, and you are good to go. Wherever.
And it's the "wherever" that has changed the most in the
last 30 years. At my grandfather's funeral there was a lot of talk about
"heaven." At the one I was at Saturday there was none. Other than the
songs the word never made the service. It's not that my colleague or the people
at the funeral don't believe in "heaven." They all do I am sure. What
they are not sure is where it is; or, for many of them I suspect, if it's even
a place at all?
I mean, other than a few die-hard fundementalists and even fewer
artists, no body really believes heaven is a "place" anymore. Where is it? It's
tough to believe in a place when you're on the third rock from a medium sized
star, someplace among galaxies and galaxies of such rocks. You could pick one,
call it heaven, I suppose, but that's so arbitrary as to be worse than not
picking one. So every time people hear the word "heaven" it has no
meaning to them. And they move on...
For most of us these days, the word "heaven" functions
like the quality of a relationship. It's similar to the difference between
"loving" something and "liking" something. You love
something, and that something is often more important than something you like.
Heaven is a way of describing your relationship with God that is more important
than other relationships. When we die we want to be surrounded by family and
friends, and for believers, God too. That's heaven. At the bedside. And it ends
when you do.
Heaven has meaning for people because it describes a quality of
their relationship with God. A relationship that transcends time and space, a
relationship that is eternal. Heaven is not a place where my grandfather or
this wonderful lady "went to" when they died. Heaven is a way of
being loved by God that does not stop just because you die. Heaven is God's
eternal love for you. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.
Permit me to quote a piece of the scripture read during the
funeral: Jesus says,
"Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe
also in me. In my Father's house are many chambers..." (John 14. 1-2) God's
house is God's heart, and living in one of the chambers is living in the heart
of God. For 2000 years the Christians have called that "heaven." It
was true 30 years ago, it was true last week, and it'll be true 30 years from
now as well. Even if we don't use the word.
May your tables be full and your conversations be true.
