"ENGAGING DEATH AND LIFE IN THE AGE OF COVID-19"

“ENGAGING DEATH AND LIFE IN THE AGE  OF COVID-19”

            Last week I did my first funeral in the Covid-19 era, and it was surreal.  Jackie Smith, a longtime member at Oakhurst, had died suddenly of a heart attack at age 65.  Her son Johnathon called me to see if I could do the service, and I indicated that he would have to contact the current pastor of Oakhurst, Amantha Barbee, to get her permission for me to do it.  Reverend Barbee graciously agreed, and we set up the service.  Johnathon had grown up at Oakhurst, and his mother Jackie was fiercely dedicated to him.  She knew that his racial classification as “black” meant that he would be seen as less worthy, and she made it her goal as a single mom to raise him up so that he would see himself – and others would see him – as a child of God, with equal dignity to others.

            I was anxious - would I get Covid-19 from someone or something at the funeral?  And I was curious all week as I approached the time for the funeral – how would this work? I checked in with the mortuary where the service would be held, and they indicated that they were obeying all the Covid-19 guidelines.  The funeral could not be at Oakhurst Church because it was closed.  I arrived at the mortuary with gloves and mask on (made by CJ Evans!), hand sanitizer in my robe pocket.  Mr. Kendrick, one of the coordinators of the mortuary, told me that there would only be 10 people in the service, the maximum that the governmental order allowed, and that the congregants would be spaced accordingly.  All other people attending would be allowed to stand outside the open doors of the chapel and look in, listening on the speakers placed out for them.  The service was also live-streamed, so there was a camera near-by.  I forgot all about it, so I’ll undoubtedly need our daughter Susan to give me some tips on doing these kinds of services live and on camera.

            This may sound weird, but I generally like leading funerals as worship services.  In the context of death, the preacher has an unusual opportunity to point all of us to the meaning of life and the meaning of our own lives.  It is much easier to do this when the person who dies had lived into their 80’s rather than when someone in their youth or young adulthood dies and are thus cut down before they went through the cycle of life.  But, even in a tragic circumstance, there is the opportunity to help us all re-focus our energies and our vision about who we are and about what life is. 

In funeral services, my goal has been to emphasize five areas.  First, we are worshipping God, and this occasion to remember the power of death helps us to focus on the meaning of life and the Author of life.  Second, we gather together to give thanks for the life of the one who has passed.  Again, it helps if the person has lived a fine life, but even for those of us who have been rascals, there are redeeming features to be remembered and to be lifted up.  I love using the quote from Psalm 139:14 “For all these mysteries, I thank you, for the wonder of myself, for the wonder of your works.”   

Third, we acknowledge that the power of death has captured our loved one and threatens to capture our hearts.  We acknowledge the power and the necessity of mourning – mourning for the loss of the loved one, mourning for the stark reminder that all of life is under the power of death, mourning for the stark reminder that death will come to our door too.  When Caroline’s dad Herman Leach died in 2011, I led his service in Chattanooga, and I remember our younger granddaughter Zoe telling me after that service: “I don’t want you to die.”  It tore at my heart, and all that I was able to reply was: “I don’t want to die either, but I will.  But, hopefully, it will be a long time from now.” 

Fourth, we affirm that life belongs to God, that we belong to God, and that even walking through the valley of the shadow of death, we can be assured that death is not the final word in the life of our loved one or in our own lives.  Whatever happens to our personal identities after death, we can be assured that we will not be deserted by God.  Again, a Scripture quote pops up from the rascal St. Paul: ”If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord;  whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”   And, finally we affirm the particular life of the person who has died.  I strongly believe in doing that.  I understand the impetus to be impersonal at a funeral, giving priority to the ritual, but such an approach misses the power of life that brings us together on that occasion.  This person was a living, breathing child of God, with an historical context and many stories evolving out of that context.  Some of those need to be shared to help all of us acknowledge the powerful connections to their humanity and our own humanity, as well as the painful shadow under which we all live our lives, a reality that drives much of artistic impulses in all ages:  we are finite and mortal beings.

All of this was rolling through my heart last week as I led the funeral for Jackie Smith.  In a time of deep loss and painful grief – no touching, no hugging to acknowledge our connections and our loss!  I haven’t been reminded in a long time of the pressure of the Word, as I was at this funeral.  The lack of contact was palpable, leaving me feeling a gaping hole, even though I know that my words were eloquent and comforting.  I could not sing the body electric, to use Whitman’s powerful phrase, and I felt it.  I’m glad that I could do a funeral in the Covid-19 era – I hope that I don’t have to do another one.  But, it feels like we are all going through a funeral together as life shifts so dramatically in Covid -19.