I Went to a Funeral Today.

Vrådal Kyrkje

I went to a funeral today.

The village church was full. People had travelled from afar, but many were from the village itself and wanted to pay their friend and neighbor respect by following him to the grave. He was a relative of mine, but I did not know him well. We found a place on the gallery. I looked at the people below. Some I knew, but most were strangers. The white casket was in the center and many bouquets of flowers were on display, both on it and around it.

A Christian funeral is a beautiful ceremony, full of hope for the life eternal. It speaks of faith and joy. It speaks to the ones who are left behind. They have still life choices before them. Our young priest told us about him who had died, and we got to know more about him. It was factual, but based on the information given him by the family. I liked the hymns that were picked out. Again, they spoke of the hope we have in Jesus, and of eternal life. There was also a small sermon. Forgive me, but I do not recall what it was about. I remember, though, that I was comforted. A lady played the trumpet: O Holy Night…

As the casket was carried out, we made our way down to join the crowd. The burial place was right outside the church. It was a family grave, and my great grand parents, great aunts and uncles were buried there. His name will be added to the others.

Family grave

I stood among a group of strangers, singing a last psalm. I felt a strong sense of belonging, because we were of the same family. We also shared a common tradition. We bury our dead by gathering for a church service, with a priest proclaiming the hope we have in the resurrection.

The casket was lowered into the earth. Last psalm was sung. It was time for greetings and for tears. The December wind chilled me. I looked at the people around me. Similar features betrayed their close relationship. Some looked like me. I introduced myself – as my mother’s youngest daughter. She was a cousin of the deceased. I represented her family. Smiles. Recollections. New acquaintances.

Tradition has strong bonds. Unwittingly I was carrying it on.

After this we went to commemorate the deceased at a local hotel, to eat and reminisce, make speeches and eat some more. And in doing so, we see each other. We create some new bonds, and celebrate our life connections.

One element stood out: A man with an accordion, a woman with a large cross around her neck and two sweet teenage girls sang  Nearer to Thee, My God in the local dialect. “A Christian witness among this crowd,” I thought, and was delighted!