dsdrane
01-08-2009, 10:52 PM
Boyfriend Dash and I now sing at the same church, which is an incredible blessing to us for a number of reasons. However, sadly, it happened to coincide with the dying and death of the rector's wife after several years of illness due to cancer.
Jay, the alumnus, barely knew the lady, and I, the newcomer, didn't know her at all, but it was the most painful funeral I've been to since my father's less than 4 years ago.
The reason was this: the rector/husband officiated at the funeral. Bishop Lee [of Chicago] was there, as were two associate rectors, but the rector officiated nonetheless. He wanted to, and his wife wanted him to. Her illness was such that she could plan her own funeral. It sounds macabre, but it wasn't at all; it was the celebration we all talk about.
Here's the point of my post: our rector went through his priestly duties perfectly...his strength was incredible. Until, invisible to the congregation, but visible to the clergy and choir, he showed a flash of the absolute horror and pain on his face at embracing the casket for the final time.
My heart stopped. Here I was, witnessing a man I barely knew, but had already come to respect and love, anguishing over the separation from the woman he loved in front of God and country, but directly witnessable by only a very few.
As much as my heart ached for him -- and, let me tell you, it's hard as hell to sing when you're choking back tears -- I am so eternally grateful to have been there and witnessed faith in action.
Here was a man...a man whose wife of 30-some-odd years had died of a painful and prolonged disease...officiating at his own wife's funeral. At first blush, this would almost seem obscene; how could he possibly?? But, think of how many like funerals for countless others he had performed in his official life. For how many people he barely knew, did he have to find the words necessary to comfort?
And now it was his grief he sought to assuage with his faith...and that of his wife's. In full view...of everybody.
To say that I was impressed, or humbled, or fundamentally changed, is an understatement. It only occured to me later that this was the closest I had ever come to witnessing faith, lived.
I don't require my faith to be corroborated by others...and yet, here, it was.
I'll never forget it.
Jay, the alumnus, barely knew the lady, and I, the newcomer, didn't know her at all, but it was the most painful funeral I've been to since my father's less than 4 years ago.
The reason was this: the rector/husband officiated at the funeral. Bishop Lee [of Chicago] was there, as were two associate rectors, but the rector officiated nonetheless. He wanted to, and his wife wanted him to. Her illness was such that she could plan her own funeral. It sounds macabre, but it wasn't at all; it was the celebration we all talk about.
Here's the point of my post: our rector went through his priestly duties perfectly...his strength was incredible. Until, invisible to the congregation, but visible to the clergy and choir, he showed a flash of the absolute horror and pain on his face at embracing the casket for the final time.
My heart stopped. Here I was, witnessing a man I barely knew, but had already come to respect and love, anguishing over the separation from the woman he loved in front of God and country, but directly witnessable by only a very few.
As much as my heart ached for him -- and, let me tell you, it's hard as hell to sing when you're choking back tears -- I am so eternally grateful to have been there and witnessed faith in action.
Here was a man...a man whose wife of 30-some-odd years had died of a painful and prolonged disease...officiating at his own wife's funeral. At first blush, this would almost seem obscene; how could he possibly?? But, think of how many like funerals for countless others he had performed in his official life. For how many people he barely knew, did he have to find the words necessary to comfort?
And now it was his grief he sought to assuage with his faith...and that of his wife's. In full view...of everybody.
To say that I was impressed, or humbled, or fundamentally changed, is an understatement. It only occured to me later that this was the closest I had ever come to witnessing faith, lived.
I don't require my faith to be corroborated by others...and yet, here, it was.
I'll never forget it.