Return by S. Ollsin
“The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit.” Nelson Henderson
Of the hundreds of funeral and memorial services I’ve conducted to date, the most difficult ones to perform are for people who no one likes. Paying tribute to a particularly cruel or unkind person is challenging at best. I didn’t realize how tricky this is until faced with the dilemma firsthand. After the first time it occurred I immediately understood why religions choose to speak predominantly about the soul, and not the personality of the deceased. Much easier really, when you think about it. Less detail to deal with, interpret, and integrate into the service. The irony here though, is that life is in the details, so if you leave them all out, the entire service lacks something vital. Keep in mind that the best eulogies don’t include everything about the person, but simply highlight the positive things about their life.
When only the soul of a person is addressed, and not their personality, it can result in a very unsatisfying experience for family members and friends. Bereaved people usually want to hear stories about the deceased person – who they were, and how they lived out their days – whether they liked them or not. After all, it is possible to love someone and not actually like them (it happens more often than you may think). Specifically, mourners often wish others to hear and know about the person, and what they contributed, or how they impacted other people’s lives. They want their relationships with the deceased person acknowledged – whatever they might be like. This must be done as tactfully and graciously as possible of course, but it must be done all the same.
People die. Let’s talk.
Healing by S. Ollsin
“…the memorial service, with its panoply of readings and tender gestures, is a complex of survival instinct, cultural evolution, and esthetic imagination, choreographed over millennia…” Eleanor Munro
One of my teachers often used to repeat the phrase: “Words are strong medicine” – and so they are. This is particularly true of words used at funerals, memorials, or end-of-life services. These words hold special import because they have the potential to either help comfort and heal those who are bereaved, or cause more pain and suffering.
How we make meaning is both a subjective and collective process. It depends on our life experience, upbringing, culture, language, social norms and expectations, and more. For example, just like any public speaker, a speaker at a memorial service must know who their audience is. What will be the mix of religious vs. non-religious folks at the gathering? What were the beliefs and values of the person who died? And what are the beliefs and world views of close family members and friends? What will the majority of people participating in the ritual find meaningful, in regards to what is said at the service (and how it is stated)? How can the speaker(s) be inclusive, without becoming vague? What points need to be addressed, and why?
As you can surmise, crafting a solid and ‘meaningful’ end-of-life service is an art unto itself. Religious language can quickly turn non-religious people off if it is inflammatory and inappropriate. For example, I once co-conducted a service alongside a Roman Catholic priest (at the foster father’’s request). The service was for a young man in his twenties who had completed suicide, an act which the Catholic church considers a sin. During the priest’s liturgy he alluded to their belief that the young man would inevitably suffer in the hereafter precisely because he had taken his own life here. Understandably, this caused unnecessary added grief and distress to the deceased man’s partner, ex-partner, children, extended family members and close friends. The loss was painful enough without this extra burden to bear.
Could the words the priest have chosen not have taken a different tact? A more healing perspective, with an understanding of the fragility of the human condition? As Mother Teresa said, “No one can wholly know the extent of another’s suffering”. Where is the compassion in situations like the above-mentioned one? Who monitors ‘best practices’ in this regard? Is there not a better way?
Yes, there is a better way, and it has to do with choosing words that are healing and positive, honest and integral. During the above-mentioned service I did my best to mitigate and temper what the priest had said by using more carefully-chosen words – words that could begin to help heal the raw, palpable grief that was present.
It took many extra hours of writing and editing to prepare the service, but ethically it was a necessary labour of love. At the very least, mourners deserve our respect, support, and comfort that can come through the words that we choose to say out loud during times of loss and sorrow.
People die. Let’s talk.
