Funeral Day Reflections

I just returned from the funeral of Sue Nisly who was 62.  I am always thoughtful after a funeral, and today is no exception.  Sometimes I feel that I know a person better after they’re deceased than I ever knew them in life.  In Sue’s case, I realize that I never knew the extent of her outstanding support of and care for the needy–which others can hardly finish talking about.  I understand why I didn’t know: because I was too blessed to have suffered the plight of being marginalized because of bad choices or crushing life circumstances or having been vulnerable because of ill health.   Sue was busy tending to the needs of people who needed her help more than I did. 

Even so, she noticed some of the fraught conversations that I’ve been involved in on social media, and quietly offered affirmation to me via private messages.  For that I am profoundly grateful. My sister and I both remember having gotten a phone call from Sue when we faced a cancer diagnosis.  That too was welcome.

Not many of us will die more than 30 years after the first of three cancer diagnoses, and having a liver transplant that provided a new lease on life nine? years ago. She had many surgeries, some of them orthopedic.  Mayo Clinic was her “home” for many months at various times.  

Our middle son, Shane spent more time in Cliff and Sue’s home than anyone else in our family.  He was nearly the same age as their younger son, Jadon, who lives now in Europe.  Shane helped sing today at the funeral.  

Isaac Peters’ meditation was comforting and inspiring–possibly more so than anything I’ve ever heard at a funeral.  He spoke from John 17:24, making applications from that Scripture that I’ve never considered before.  Beulah (Cliff’s sister) has become the de facto family writer of tributes.  As one of the younger ones of 15 siblings in Cliff’s family (and the one who was her mother’s caretaker till she died at the age of 100), Beulah has stayed connected closely enough with everyone to be able to speak for the family when a death occurs.  She shared a tribute, which was something of a compilation of many people’s memories. Justin, the older son, gave his tribute in the form of recollections about the things he embraces now that he learned from his mother’s instruction and example.  He lives in India.

Sue’s obituary in the local newspaper contained these words: “Sue deeply believed in protecting the vulnerable, the elderly, and the ill, so the family requests that all who attend [the funeral] honor her wishes by wearing a mask and observing social distancing.”  I cried when I read this. Sue finally got a chance to "tell" everyone what no one should have needed to tell anyone–that Christian people care best for others by taking appropriate precautions when failure to do so endangers others.  I can’t imagine more effective circumstances for conveying this message.  I see it as a special grace from God to her and to her family for providing this great opportunity in a time of great loss.  

Every public entrance at the Pleasantview Activity Center where the funeral was held had a reminder of what was expected.  I didn’t see any non-mask wearers today.  To be fair, I saw only a small fraction of the faces of those who were present.  

The distance-seating part didn’t really happen much that I saw, although there were enough chairs set up to accommodate that, and the rows were appropriately spaced for that.  I personally found distance seating convenient, however, since I was simply pointed toward a row where some were already seated.  I selected the third chair away from the last person seated in that row. The person following me did something similar.  I presume that many others either didn’t think about or didn’t care to exercise that option. Obviously, if Iva, who followed me, had not left a gap between us, my efforts to honor the family’s wishes would have been stymied too.  

Today’s funeral service was the first time I’ve been in a group gathering of this size where I knew that no one had been given explicit or implicit “pardon” for non-mask-wearing by some intermediate authority during a time and place where mask wearing is government-mandated for the populace.  Under these circumstances, today any non-mask-wearer would have been immediately outed for acting solely on their own volition–and in violation of the explicit request of a grieving family acting in support of general official guidance, while trying to honor the dying wishes of a beloved ally for the vulnerable.  This is perhaps one of the most clarifying situations imaginable.

The fact that in today’s funeral setting some things can be apparent to onlookers that might remain mercifully fuzzy otherwise is perhaps not the most important clarification.  I’m hopeful that the needful role of leaders in protecting the vulnerable was obvious today.  Without a position of leadership, Sue and her surviving family exercised leadership by showing us what leadership that is protective of the vulnerable can look like.  They did not circumvent others with positional authority to do this.  

I’m also hopeful that the lack of "goodwill toward men" often apparent in a robust defense of individual freedom (while rejecting virus mitigation measures) is highlighted as well, particularly for those making such a defense.  

Finally, I’m hopeful that push back against good advice from the government and scientists is seen for the fear-based, anti-intellectual  response that it is.  Too much of this is woven into the fabric of “Anabaptist Exceptionalism.” The notion that “those laws” don’t apply to us has provided cover for too many selfish actions, during the pandemic and at other times.  

None of us who have been grieving and praying about the disappointments and losses connected with the pandemic wanted clarification by way of the death of one dear to us. Some of us may not have wanted clarification at all.  Having been granted it unsolicited, however, is better than to have missed it entirely. I hope we all can receive such clarifying gifts with grace and gratitude. Sue would approve.