“It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting, for that is the destination of all persons, and the living will lay it to his heart” (Ecclesiastes 7:2)
I take every opportunity to preach at funerals, requiems, and even internments. I realize that those “paying their respects” aren’t always listening, but I speak about the subjects that matter most in life—living, dying, and what happens in between. Several reasons prevent my words from touching the sensitive nerves of the respectful ones:
- The friends of the family are not always, or even not often, those who are serious Orthodox Christians. The incense, the choir, my vestments are not part of their normal experience. They cannot get beyond the unfamiliar, even exotic setting in order to listen to what we are communicating.
- We live in a death-denying culture. We are overwhelmed with death in our media. The bizarre has become routine. Terrorists are trained to strap bombs to their bodies and detonate themselves in crowded marketplaces, taking to death with them as many lives as possible. Innocent women, youth and children are collateral damage. The saying holds true: One death is a tragedy, a thousand deaths is a statistic.
- For those whose life has no meaning, death has no mystery. The human being as a unique creature with infinite capacities and the aspiration to be united with God is seen by humanists as a ludicrous fantasy.
- For the young and naïve, death happens to others, never to them.
Nevertheless, hidden deep within the psyche is a soul, and every human being has one. I look at those in the folding chairs of a funeral home, as those who would hardly choose to enter a church, and I pray for the Holy Spirit to bless me with words that would touch their souls. I look beyond the earrings on ears, nostrils and navels; I try to ignore the tattoos that abuse the beauty of skin that make the epidermis of human beings unique in nature.
More than my meager words, the words of the requiem and funeral radiate with wisdom for all who have “ears to hear” what the Holy Spirit yearns to convey to us about life and eternal life. “Beholding the sea of life” we imagine the implications of what geophysics remind us—we are mostly composed of water, we come from the ocean, and the firmness of the earth is a mere illusion. We are not immortal, our lives are drifting through the sea of time and our journey’s end is ever ahead of us. We ought to be planning for our arrival at the harbor rather than simply enjoying the scenery on the way. We are not guests on a cruise; we are urged to assume responsibility for our direction and care for the ship, which is our own bodies, minds and souls.
“Blessed art Thou, O Lord, teach me Thy statutes,” the timeless psalm brings to mind the Lord almighty and that God has an order and plan for the universe and it includes us. The challenge and purpose of life is to learn that plan, understand His laws and follow them to our utmost ability.
“With the saints give rest, O Lord, to the soul of Thy departed servant where there is neither sickness, nor suffering, nor sighing, but life everlasting….” In my beginning is my end” [East Coker, T.S. Eliot], and this second phase of our lives is closing, while another and far greater phase, the final and most glorious era that is no era but life everlasting opens up for the one whose soul is separated for a time from the body.