Attended my Aunt's funeral this past week. Appalachian Mountain folk, North Carolina. She was a fine woman, and died among family and friends, witnessing her last moments in her organic body. It was as honor to bear witness.
It is ironic, that amongst a room full of bible thumpers, it is the ONLY non-Christian in the room (that would be me, by the way), amongst the chaos, and tears, pipes up and says, "I believe we need to pray; Jerry, please lead us."
I don't know what possessed me ... Jesus Christ, Amen!
As I sat on the pew, with my son in tow, mind you had never witnessed this type of event and is a fully awakened young man performing his duty, at the funeral home, in a little ole mountain town, where the funeral director is my Aunt's brother-in-law of 49 years; the service consisted of a young preacher holding the King James Version of the bible, proclaiming the only way to heaven was through Jesus Christ our Lord and savior, and he knew this because this book, TOLD HIM SO, waving the book over his head! People proclaiming, yes, Jesus. And, any and all other ways were just LIARS AND THIEVES!
As, I heard my son involuntarily snort, I grab his leg, staring (really firm "Mom" look, y'all know it) at him to gain control.
As we listened we realize that this man is spewing absolute jibberish, while staring directly at us.
I love and respect my Aunt, and just smiled.
It was ... enlightening.
the preacher always has to glare at the heathens. smirk. no judgement, right. as if
Don't worry it wasn't that you looked for confort in god. It was just confort in the fond memory of your aunt, using her beliefs. You should also be a writer, if you aren't already
I've only been to a couple of Christian services over the last few years, and they now strike me as extremely odd and crazy. It's like watching some ancient tribe worship an absurd god.
My Father in law died just before Christmas last, I was asked to organise the funeral, so I arranged a secular service, almost everyone said it was the happiest and most enjoyable funeral they had ever been to, and had made the memory of John not God the centre of the experience.