This past Monday I attended a memorial service for an elderly gentleman by the name of Martin “Joe” Furlong from a neighboring Community of Christ congregation. Memorial services can kind of leave me feeling awkward at times. Upon arrival we proceeded into the chapel at the funeral home and sat down. As I sit there, I couldn’t believe how much noise was coming from outside the chapel in the foyer. It kind of seemed rude to me. People were talking loud, not even trying to whisper.
Once all were inside the chapel the minister started the service. It was pretty much a quiet service, as to be expected, until they invited the congregation a chance to share. The family were given an opportunity to share first. I was touched by the fact that most, if not all, of his grandkids in attendance (ranging in ages of like 7 to 16 or somewhere close to that) shared a story with those in attendance. What struck me was how quickly the sharing from each person would turn into laughter, embedded of course with teary eyes. As I sat there listening to the stories of Joe from his family and friends I was intrigued that so many had their own special humorous story of Joe to share. It was great. I fully appreciated it. One of the funnier moments was when a relative of Joe’s, someone who i know well and is a former politician, stood up to share how she was a Republican and Joe was a Democrat but the she had seen the light (or something to that effect) and became a Democrat. The chapel erupted in applause and even an elderly lady in front of me shouted “Amen” or “Woo-Hoo” or something like that. Now, some would have seen this as inappropriate though I definitely got the feeling that Joe would have thoroughly appreciated it. He was obviously a man of humor.
Now, I didn’t know Joe that well. My mom, whom I went to the service with, knew him well. I believe they went to the same congregation as she was growing up. I remember meeting him once. Eventhough he was married he often came to Single’s camp to offer counseling and simply be a friend to those in attendance. His last time coming to a Single’s camp was the first time I cooked for one. That is my only time that I remember crossing paths with him though I know I must have while in my younger years.
So, why did I go? I didn’t know the guy that well but that didn’t matter to me. I went for two reasons. First, as a sign of support for the family. I know one of his sons, Gary, and have had Gary’s kids at camps that I have directed and/or counseled at. So, I went to support them as they mourned their loss. Second, I went as a sign of respect. Joe died at the age of 89 as a well known Community of Christ member throughout the Northwest. Though, often times people at his age aren’t able to go to church for years before actually dying. Thus, I have noticed that people seem to forget about those that paved the way before us and don’t attend their memorial service when they die. I noticed the same thing a few years ago when an elderly man in my congregation passed on. It is quite sad really. So whenever I can, I go to show respect to those that have come before me in my faith movement.
UPDATE (3/12/08):
I forgot to share something else about this particular memorial service. It was my first time ever going to a graveside service. The graveside service immediately followed the memorial service. The rows of cars proceeded up the driveway to where the casket would be buried. Once the pallbearers carried the casket up the hill to the grave site everyone gathered around it. The casket was lifted up onto the device that would then lower it into the ground. A Catholic Priest started to share in a ritual when the casket started to slide off the device (for lack of the correct term). All the sudden, Gary, stood up to stop it while one of the daughters shouted something to the effect of “Father is trying to get away”. Most broke out in laughter. Again, laughter was present. It was not a sign of disrespect but really a sign of respect for Joe.
