The Funeral
Dec. 30th, 2010 07:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydamorehouseDespite the rain, I decided to go down for the funeral. I left early this morning and mostly encountered fog and drizzle, though there were a few spots with some heavy driving rain (which Shawn told me a while ago, y'all had in the Twin Cities.) I waffled about the weather for days, and made a last minute decision to come down here because when I drove off to get my coffee in the morning, I started thinking about Ella and about why people have funerals and why people go to them.
I realized that my great-aunt Clara would most certainly make it to her Catholic heaven whether or not I showed up.. But that's not why people gather at gravesides. We gather to hold the hands of the *living.*
So that's why I went.
But I still find Roman Catholic funerals sort of strange. There's a lot that's familiar to me from having been a kind of honorary Catholic growing up (my family was all Unitarians, but the extended family is/was Catholic.) Some of it is familiar, too, because it's so ridiculously pagan. The Christmas tree, the poinsettas... their symbols, sure, but totally mine, as well. A white stag in the stained glass looked to me a lot like my own Horned God. The walking around the casket, clockwise, with incense.... I got that and respected it. The talk of Wisdom as a woman who waits for you when you seek for her in your own garden (Solomon 6:12-16), that sounded to me exactly like the words in the Charge of the Goddess where She reminds us that we can't find Her unless we know ourselves first.
But then there's the stuff that completely jars, like the parable for the ten virgins (Mathew 25:1-13). I ended up having to look it up afterwards in Wikipedia with my dad back at the hotel room, because out of context is sounds like God is a big, fat meanie.
Do you know it? The basic story is about five wise virgins and five fooolish virgins. These ten virgins are waiting outside to go into a wedding. The wise virgins brought enough oil to last the night, and the foolish ones didn't. The foolish ones ask to share, and the wise ones say no, go get your own in the market. They take off and come back only to find out the wedding started and the doors locked. When they beg to go in, the bridegroom (God) tells them, "I don't know you." Door in face. And the story ends. It sounds like the foolish virgins weren't so much foolish as screwed around with and then God is all "talk to the hand."
Out of context the story totally sounded like the priest is looking out at all the non-believers saying "sorry, dude, you aren't invited to the party." Or that God is so picky about who he lets into heavan that you can't even make a mistake with a bit of oil, and try to fix it. He won't look at you, all merciful, and say, "Hey, you're late, but I see you tried to get more oil, so I'll forgive you and you can come in." Nope, he'll say, "I don't KNOW you."
Harsh.
But Wikipedia had some good bits about how to interpret it, which the priest did not discuss in his sermon. Wikipedia suggests that this story was meant as an admonishment to clergy who thought they were "virtuous" and didn't need to do anything more to get into heaven. So you have to do more than just talk the talk. Nicer message. Wish I'd heard that at the funeral. Instead, the story just sort of hung there and then the sermon was about how prepared for death my great-aunt was. Literally. Not, like, how she lived well, but how she had stuff ready.
Weird.
Anyway, we got to sing songs and I held the hands of the living. It was what it was supposed to be.
I realized that my great-aunt Clara would most certainly make it to her Catholic heaven whether or not I showed up.. But that's not why people gather at gravesides. We gather to hold the hands of the *living.*
So that's why I went.
But I still find Roman Catholic funerals sort of strange. There's a lot that's familiar to me from having been a kind of honorary Catholic growing up (my family was all Unitarians, but the extended family is/was Catholic.) Some of it is familiar, too, because it's so ridiculously pagan. The Christmas tree, the poinsettas... their symbols, sure, but totally mine, as well. A white stag in the stained glass looked to me a lot like my own Horned God. The walking around the casket, clockwise, with incense.... I got that and respected it. The talk of Wisdom as a woman who waits for you when you seek for her in your own garden (Solomon 6:12-16), that sounded to me exactly like the words in the Charge of the Goddess where She reminds us that we can't find Her unless we know ourselves first.
But then there's the stuff that completely jars, like the parable for the ten virgins (Mathew 25:1-13). I ended up having to look it up afterwards in Wikipedia with my dad back at the hotel room, because out of context is sounds like God is a big, fat meanie.
Do you know it? The basic story is about five wise virgins and five fooolish virgins. These ten virgins are waiting outside to go into a wedding. The wise virgins brought enough oil to last the night, and the foolish ones didn't. The foolish ones ask to share, and the wise ones say no, go get your own in the market. They take off and come back only to find out the wedding started and the doors locked. When they beg to go in, the bridegroom (God) tells them, "I don't know you." Door in face. And the story ends. It sounds like the foolish virgins weren't so much foolish as screwed around with and then God is all "talk to the hand."
Out of context the story totally sounded like the priest is looking out at all the non-believers saying "sorry, dude, you aren't invited to the party." Or that God is so picky about who he lets into heavan that you can't even make a mistake with a bit of oil, and try to fix it. He won't look at you, all merciful, and say, "Hey, you're late, but I see you tried to get more oil, so I'll forgive you and you can come in." Nope, he'll say, "I don't KNOW you."
Harsh.
But Wikipedia had some good bits about how to interpret it, which the priest did not discuss in his sermon. Wikipedia suggests that this story was meant as an admonishment to clergy who thought they were "virtuous" and didn't need to do anything more to get into heaven. So you have to do more than just talk the talk. Nicer message. Wish I'd heard that at the funeral. Instead, the story just sort of hung there and then the sermon was about how prepared for death my great-aunt was. Literally. Not, like, how she lived well, but how she had stuff ready.
Weird.
Anyway, we got to sing songs and I held the hands of the living. It was what it was supposed to be.