Mourn With Those Who Mourn

I led a funeral on Tuesday for an 85-year-old gentleman named Joe Hidy, who was a retired farmer from the Greenfield area. His relatives are the Hidy folks who originally settled over at Jeffersonville. I believe there is a road and a cemetery that bears their names. I never met Joe and had never even heard his name before Roger Kirkpatrick tracked me down in my yard this past Saturday morning. Joe and his wife Martha (Denney) Hidy, were actually married at our church back in 1951 with Rev. Braden officiating. At that time they were members of McNair Presbyterian Church, which was without a pastor. I had the opportunity to meet Joe’s family. They are good folks, who were understandably upset to lose Joe, but understanding that he had been sick in different ways for a long time. They were not worried about where Joe is today. About twenty folks, mostly family, came to the funeral and, I believe, many more had come the night before to visit with the family at the funeral home. The service ended at the cemetery with my concluding words and military honors. So it ended up that Larry Bishop, John Mason, and I were all involved in the funeral.

I have done one other funeral since I have been here and one memorial service. The funeral was for Elizabeth “Bib” Hyer, who was in her 90’s. It was a very small service at the mausoleum at Washington Cemetery. It sounds like she had a great sense of humor and a real sense of style and elegance. I never had the opportunity to meet Mrs. Hyer either. The memorial service was for Debbie Crooks, the sister of Susan Waddle. Debbie was only about 60-years-old or so and had lost a long, hard battle with cancer. According to Susan, her sister loved to laugh and host parties. Debbie has some of the best looking kids and grandkids I've ever seen. Again, I never got the chance to meet Debbie. I wish I had.

When I was in Norman I was the Associate Pastor for Youth Ministries. I thank God all the time that I did not have to do any funerals for any youth. We were blessed during my three-and-a-half years there that nothing serious happened to any of our kids. I did, however, do two funerals and a memorial service while I was there. What’s the difference between a funeral and a memorial service? A funeral happens within a few days of the death and generally involves burial either of a casket or an urn. A memorial service usually takes place weeks or even a month or more later and does not involve burial. The two funerals I did in Norman were for two elderly folks whom I had never met. The memorial service was for a great guy named Jerry Benson, who died tragically of a heart attack pretty much right after he retired. Terribly sad situation. He was a big supporter of mine and so was his wife Jonina, who is an absolutely amazing person.

When I was in Newkirk I led probably four or five funerals, and I had never met any but one of them. The deceased were friends or relatives of church members. The funeral I did for the person I knew was very difficult for me. Her name was Darla Smith. She was 72-years-old, our clerk of session, made the best banana bread I’ve ever tasted, and she had become one of my best friends. She was a widow who lived out in the country and had pet longhorn cattle who she fed treats to every night. Every Easter morning we’d have our sunrise service out at her place overlooking a beautiful pond. She used to take the scraps home from every church dinner to feed to the friendly possums that liked to hang out on her porch. She was as country as country can get, had to have her language reigned in once or twice in session meetings, and smoked like a chimney. It was pancreatic cancer that took her. She found out she had it and was dead within weeks. I loved her very much and think about her nearly every day. Looking back on it I think losing Darla had something to do with my leaving the church in Newkirk. I was brand new to ministry and it hurt so bad to lose someone I loved. Also, while I was in Newkirk, I turned down the only funeral that I have ever turned down. I had only been out of seminary for a couple of months and I received a phone call from the local funeral home. An infant had died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. The little baby was the same age as Wyatt. Only having about eight weeks of ministry under my belt I just could not do it. Had the family been members of my congregation I would have just had to suck it up and do it, but since they were not affiliated with any congregation I knew that one of the much more experienced pastors in town could handle the situation better than I could. I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to hold it together for the family.

As I have mentioned, most of the funerals I have done have been for people I never met. That’s always kind of strange. I find it kind of awkward for me, someone who didn’t know their loved one, to lead a group of people in honoring and commending to God a person that they knew very well. I feel like a moirologist, the word for a professional mourner. These folks were employed in many Middle Eastern cultures, including biblical Israel, to come to a funeral and mourn for someone they’d never met. They might say some words about the person, lead some prayers, and lead some songs for the deceased’s family and friends. Hmmm… Sounds kind of like what I do. I never really thought about it that way.

I do my best to glean information about the deceased from my brief discussions with the family. A lot of times I don’t even know the family. I always feel like a kind of service provider more than a pastor in those situations. But, except in the one case of that infant, I don’t turn down funerals, even if I don’t know anyone involved. The reason for that is not money—generally the funeral home charges the family a $100 pastor’s payment to compensate the pastor for meeting with the family and leading the service—but because I know that, for better or for worse, in my position I represent God and the church. Although I will be honest that I take the check when the funeral director gives it to me, I never ask for money, nor would I not do the funeral if I didn’t get paid. One time, when it wasn't done through a funeral home, I asked the family to make a donation instead to the Fayette County Food Pantry. So I repeat: it is not about the money. If I’m unwilling to be there for them in their time of need then they definitely feel that the church doesn’t care about them and might even, incorrectly, come to the conclusion that God doesn’t care. Also, I never do it because it might bring in new members to our church. You’re church is pretty desperate if that’s your evangelism strategy—have the pastor do funerals for people not involved in a church family to bring in new recruits. It might have that effect but that’s not why I do it. I do those funerals for people I don’t know and who aren’t affiliated with the congregation I serve because, ultimately, I have been called and equipped to help folks through that time. If my leading some prayers and saying a few words will help them honor their family member or friend then that’s kingdom work that’s right in my “wheelhouse.” I, and any pastor worth a darn, do it if at all possible because people need a reminder during that time that God in Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit is with them to comfort them as they mourn.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” Ultimately it is God who can comfort them, but I (along with other Christians) are quite often one of the ways that God comforts those who are grieving.

In Romans 12:15, Paul writes, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” That’s what we do for each other. When somebody has a baby or graduates from college, we celebrate with them. That’s the only appropriate response. We don’t say, “Too bad you didn’t have a girl,” or “Anybody can graduate from that college.” Actually some people may say that but those people are jerks and not living their lives as a conduit for the Holy Spirit. When someone loses their foot to diabetes or loses their husband to cancer, we mourn with them. That’s the only appropriate response. We don’t say, “Who needs two feet anyway? God gave you two so you’d have an extra,” or “I never really liked your husband anyway.” If we are living as those clothed with Christ, we rejoice with those who rejoice and we mourn with those who mourn.

The Apostle Paul also writes in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” If I had not received comfort from God myself, and if I had not seen countless others receive comfort from God then I would be a quack when it came to leading funerals, especially for people I didn’t know. Although I still feel a little awkward leading others in honoring their loved one when I never met her or him, I do it because they need to know that God is with them and if I’m the one that needs to help them realize that then I’m in. I hope you are too.

By the way, one last thing: I am a little over halfway through reading That’s Why I’m Here: The Chris and Stephanie Spielman Story. What an amazing story of struggle, faith, love, loyalty, and hope. I know that the “Young and the Rest of Us” Sunday School class is considering reading and discussing it as a class. I would certainly be in favor of that, but I would like for everyone who is reading this blog post and everyone in our congregation to consider reading that book. Reading of Stephanie’s twelve year battle with cancer, which eventually took her life, may build up your own faith and hope as you see how the Spielman family came to experience “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, [that] guard[s] your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Don't bother trying to get it at the library. The list is a mile long. What a great book.

If you are in the midst of trial, may you be comforted by our loving God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Next week's blog post will be called "There is no real OSU. There's My OSU and Your OSU."

Go Bucks! and
Go Pokes! (a Cowpoke is another name for a cowboy, the mascot of my alma mater Oklahoma State),

Everett