Friday, September 4, 2009

Being priest and saying Goodbye

You may know that my Aunt Mable passed away on Sunday night. Barry and I were the ones in the room when she stopped breathing. There was no sign of struggling that was out of the ordinary for the breathing that she had been doing for the past five days. It just slowed down over the course of an hour, then stopped.

The five days between her being given a matter of hours (perhaps a day) were difficult for our family. Someone from the family was always at her bedside to call others when the end came. I took night shifts since I was the only person that did not have to be at work the next day. I spent those nights shifting from hand holding to reciting Psalms, praying the offices, and trying to study for the classes I missed. I was there some days as well. During the days the phone calls would come...people calling to check, some not knowing that we were following a living will and wishing a recovery that would not come. The worst calls were the ones in which someone would say "it's God's plan." That's bullshit. God doesn't hand out aneurisms or trip old ladies. Nature does that (not out of cruelty, but out of process), and we can't escape it. So, where was God? In the room, with the family, and welcoming Mable into Light Perpetual. I hope St. Brigid is right about the lake of beer in heaven.:-)

After I arrived in Mobile, Gil (my priest) reminded me that I wasn't just there for Mable, but for the rest of my family too. They needed the support. As the days passed it became harder on my mother and my aunt Beth. They were executing Mable's living will which meant that Mable received only hydration and oxygen. It reached a point at which it wouldn't be her injury that killed her, but exhaustion and starvation. Coupled with the knowledge that "recovery" meant a vegetative state, Mom and Beth faced a drawn out process that gave them time to have second thoughts. Mom and I spoke of this briefly. There wasn't a resolution, but she needed a vent and that is what I made myself available for.

On Tuesday night, Mom, Dad, and Beth (and with Uncle Ricky's knowledge) asked if I would perform the graveside portion of Aunt Mable's funeral. It started out as offering a prayer, but quickly became the entire graveside. I accepted, telling them that Aunt Mable meant a lot to me, and if I get up and bawl my eyes out for five minutes, that would be what they got. I thumbed through the Book of Common Prayer and made some choices of prayers, keeping in mind that it would be a Baptist funeral. I then called Gil to ask for advice since he's done services in both denominations and he greenlighted my suggestions.

On Wednesday, I met with Fr. Jim at All Saints to talk, and he made some suggestions. Some I took (a very good prayer he showed me from Rite II) and some I didn't. He offered me a cassock and surplice (I can't wear a stole yet) and he made some suggestions about gestures; After considering my audience, I knew that there were some things I couldn't do because of the sentiments of those there. I agreed with all of the suggestions and I wish I could have done them but it seemed to me that they would detract from the service and put people out of the mindset that they were supposed to be in. He told me, regardless of the particulars, at the moment the pallbearers bring the casket out of the Hearse, it is my show, I am in charge, I am responsible for Mable. Meet the casket and walk it to the grave. {I count myself lucky to have such good mentors}. I wrote out my remembrance/homily and then took numerous practices in the yard to get my volume, intonation, enunciation, and inflections right.

On Wednesday we had the services. During the visitation I met with Ricky to talk shop. He told me that he knew we were playing by different rules denominationally, but he would help if I needed it...just signal him if I couldn't go on. I thanked him for his offer, hoping I wouldn't need to do it. I wanted to get this right for Mable. He and I both walked the casket to the grave, where I took up my place at the head. When the Funeral director cued me I began.

PREFACE
I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord;
he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live;
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.

I know that my Redeemer liveth,
and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth;
and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God;
whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold,
and not as a stranger.

For none of us liveth to himself,
and no man dieth to himself.
For if we live, we live unto the Lord.
and if we die, we die unto the Lord.
Whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's.

Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord;
even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors.


Please Listen to a reading of the 23rd Psalm.

The LORD is my shepherd; *
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; *
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul; *
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his Name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; *
for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; *
thou annointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days my life, *
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

The Remembrance

As Mable would frequently say, her funeral is supposed to be a celebration. That is a hard thing to ask of us. Goodbyes are never easy. And as I look around today, I see the fruits of Mable’s ability to affect deeply the lives she touched. New and fast friends from University Oaks and Hearthstone are here with those whom she has known since birth. Gathered here are representatives of four generations that she had a hand in raising or that grew up with her. Truly, this assembly is a testament to her exceptional grace, friendliness, and hospitality.

We mourn our loss, for we know, and feel so overpoweringly, the gaping hole that is left in our soul. Today is the day for that mourning. But perhaps…

Perhaps tomorrow, or in a week, or later, when we think of Mable, we may think of how impoverished our life would have been without her. On that day, we may think of the blessing her life was to us instead of how painful her absence is. On that day, dear people of God, Celebrate.

COMMITTAL

In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life
through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty
God our sister Mable.; and we commit her body to the ground; *
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless
her and keep her, the Lord make his face to shine upon her
and be gracious unto her, the Lord lift up his countenance
upon her and give her peace. Amen.

(A recording of Amazing Grace on Bagpipes)

(Expression of the family's gratitude and an invitation for all to join us at Mable's church for lunch)

Let us Pray,

O God, whose days are without end, and whose mercies
cannot be numbered: Make us, we pray, deeply aware of the
shortness and uncertainty of human life; and let your Holy
Spirit
lead us in holiness and righteousness all our days; that,
when we shall have served you in our generation, we may be
gathered to our ancestors, having the testimony of a good
conscience, in the confidence of a certain faith, in the comfort of a religious and
holy hope, in favor with you, our God, and in perfect charity
with the world. All this we ask through Jesus Christ
our Lord
. Amen...


Pretty much, it went off without a hitch. Many people said that I did a wonderful job, including my uncle and another Baptist preacher in attendance. Over the course of the day and into this morning, my mom and dad frequently told me how proud they were of me and that they were thankful that I came into town. My dad didn't want me to come at first because of the work and the time I missed; even he took a few occasions to thank me for coming.

One thing Jim mentioned to me on Tuesday was that the funeral was an opportunity (not in an exploitative sense) to live into the role of a priest. I think he was right, and I think the entire time I was in Mobile was that opportunity. I freely put myself out there to minister to other's needs and to be present.

And I've come to realize that this past week, as hard as it was, felt more right to me than teaching, and much more than career academia.

1 comment:

One Writing Teacher said...

Thank you.
Thank you for reminding me so much of what I've been missing.
Thank you for allowing yourself to be so intimate with your readers.
Thank you for following your calling in the love and fellowship of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

I "stumbled" upon the blog in my Google Reader, which I apparently never check. I guess I needed . . . all of the blogs. Tears welled as I entered your mind and heart, saw the raw beauty and passion, marveled and agreed.

Thank you, my friend.

God speed, God bless, and Peace to you . . .

Todd