My First Funeral

Every pastor has a long list of firsts. I don't know if all pastors think of them as such, but I have often reflected on my firsts in ministry--my first appointment, my first sermon, my first pastoral visit, my first wedding, my first baptism, my first funeral, etc. I could write a chapter on each one of these and many others, mainly because I'm a reflective person, but this blog is limited to just one of these, my first funeral.

Members of the first church I served joined with a church of another denomination in the community to form an AIDS Care Team. I participated in this ministry, often visiting our first "friend" and providing pastoral care for him and his family. Our "friend" was a young homosexual man who was in the advanced stages of AIDS when we began caring for him. He died soon after we established our relationship with him.

His mother was a member of a church of another denomination. Naturally, she wanted her pastor to officiate at her son's funeral, but because I had visited her son and provided pastoral care for him in his final days, she wanted me to participate in the funeral, as well. Her pastor refused to do the funeral with me, though, because I was a woman! And he was right, that is what I am, a woman! No way I could change that to please him, but I could step out of the way. So, I told the mother to let her pastor lead the service and I would be there for her anyway. She said she had rather have me lead the service because I was there for her son in his final days. What I learned later, though, is that her pastor still refused to lead the service. He really didn't want to lead a funeral for a homosexual who had died of AIDS! I just provided him with a good excuse.

Now I digress a little here to confess to you, gentle reader, that I was hoping the other pastor's decision was my out. That I would not be leading this funeral. After all, I had never done a funeral before! I would so rather that my first funeral be for a saint of the church I served. Not for some young man who had died of a scandalous disease! Little did I know at the time that this first would be just the beginning of many other firsts to follow that would put this scaredy cat's faith to the test!

Well, I agreed to do the funeral. Since I had never done a funeral before, I went to a number of my clergy colleagues, asking how they would prepare for this funeral. Unfortunately, I became more frightened after speaking with them than less so. It's not supposed to be that way, is it? Call me naive, but I didn't know that I needed courage to do what I was about to do until I spoke with my colleagues! Neither did I know until then that clergy have such different understandings of a funeral's purpose. And sadly, I didn't know until then that some clergy would have refused to lead the funeral service for this young homosexual man whose death was caused by AIDS. I learned through this experience that the learning curve for this scaredy cat preacher was looking pretty steep! I was surely learning some things I'd rather not know.

One thing I learned through this first is that I felt more kinship with this young man than I did with the mother's pastor who refused to do this funeral, no matter what his real reason was, or with some of my own colleagues in the ministry who feel that the purpose of a funeral is to judge the deceased person's life. The young man and I both were scandalous spectacles in the eyes of some, he because of his homosexuality and I because of my gender. I pray that this scaredy cat preacher is a little wiser because of the experience described here.

God, be merciful to me, a sinner!

Luke 18:13

Copyright 2009 Lynn W. Dimon