The Funeral - Part I - The Preacher

I have often wondered what would happen if I were to stand in the middle of a sanctuary with a room full of people and yell the worse expletive you can think of (yes, that one) at the top of my lungs.  I'm absolutely sure the reaction would be horror, certainly judgement, and of course, a few would giggle because let's be honest, that would be funny. My mother's funeral is the only time I had to physically stop myself from actually doing that.

I have put off writing about my mother's funeral because, quite frankly, this page would have only been filled with expletives. Aside from my Uncle Walt singing, there was absolutely nothing nice about it. The funeral was, in a word, a sham.

So because this is going to take a few different installments, let me first start with the preacher. Being the family heathen (at least in the eyes of some of the holier-than-thou members), I've been in situations before where people were, in my opinion, less than genuine getting their praise on. You all know the types. The ones that seem to be having a praise off. It starts with the one person speaking in tongues, quietly at first, and then others follow suit, each louder than the next. Then someone starts to cry. Then another falls to the ground shaking and convulsing. It's usually capped off with someone doing twirls and backflips down the middle aisle. It's like a cross between a WWE match, a really bad children's ballet recital, and Enya karaoke. Ok. I may be exaggerating a bit, but not much. You know it happens.  I've experienced it.  I wouldn't say I'm used to it, but whatever floats your boat. If the Holy Spirit moves you to start doing forward rolls down the middle aisle, who am I to judge; right?

One thing I had never experienced was a minister standing on the pulpit and outright lying. Sure, there have been interpretations that I didn't agree with, or politics spoken about that should have been left at home; but never a preacher standing on the pulpit and spreading outright lies. That happened at my mother's funeral. That minister stood on that alter, speaking with the authority of God himself and said things that just weren't true. At first, I kind of blocked him out because much like the praise offs, it's kind of expected at a funeral that the person who died will be spoken of as if they were the Virgin Mary herself, as if they had never done any wrong. So I tuned him out when he spoke about her "living by faith, dying by faith." Franky, I found it comical. I almost felt sorry for him and made mental notes to ask my brother and nephew how a preacher handles a funeral where the deceased is "iffy."  I mean, do they get up there and say, "eh...you know, I'm not really sure about this one. But let's pray anyway."  I don't know about you, but I've never been to a funeral where the congregation was not assured that the person went to heaven or "a better place," which I'm now wondering is preacher code word for "...not heaven."

Anyway, I digress. And then I heard him say something that brought me back to full attention. He said that that the one thing that needed to be said was my mother was a good mother.  I'm sure I made a face of confusion because...well, one, she wasn't; and two, if you're a good mother, do you really need to make that clear at your funeral?  I mean, wouldn't you have already done that? Because the only people who really know what kind of mother someone was are the children. With my face of confusion, he said it again. "She was a good mother." In this room, in the first pew even, right in front of him, were her four children. Who was he talking about? And then my mother's youngest daughter said, "That's right." And I realized, he was talking to and about her youngest two children. He wasn't considering her oldest two children at all. In fact, just like the rest of the funeral (which I will talk about at some other time), Michael and I were ignored, erased, our existence denied. We were treated like we didn't exist, like my mother wasn't judged in this world or the afterworld by the things she did and allowed to be done to US.  It truly felt like Michael and I were outside spectators at our mother's funeral. And more than spectators, we were the inconveniences. It was like we were the only thing that separated what preacher was saying, and what everyone in that room wanted to believe, from the truth.

I felt sadness, not because we were invisible but because my mother's story was incomplete. No matter how much we (or others) try to erase our past, we can't. And more than that, I'm not sure we should. Our testimony is not what we've done in the best of circumstances or with the people we've enjoyed the most, but what have we done, what decisions have we made in the worst of circumstances, with the people and circumstances that have challenged us the most?  This preacher, and it seems everyone in the room, only wanted half of my mother's testimony. They were more comfortable and comforted with erasing my brother and I completely. One thing I've learned in my spiritual battles is growth doesn't come easy. It doesn't come from the things that make us comfortable. Growth comes from being uncomfortable. And so I felt a sadness that my mother's testimony was only half told.

I wish I could say that's the end, that even though there's a sadness, that's where this story stops; but it's not. This isn't the point that standing up and shouting that expletive was an option. I'm not THAT much of a heathen.

No, it went further.  You see, this preacher wasn't happy with just catering to her youngest two children. He wasn't happy with just telling half her story, spreading the narrative that they gave him. He took it farther.  He decided it would be a good idea to continue to say it over and over: "She was a good mom." He decided that looking at me while he said it was a good idea. "She was a good mom." And even though I sent him all the social clues that this may not be a good idea (I stared straight ahead, clasped my hands in my lap, pursed my lips and did the lamaze breathing that didn't work through any four of my labors), he decided to call me out by name.

"Stephanie, yes, even to YOU, she was a good mother."  This is the point that standing up and screaming that expletive was the option, a very real option because if he can curse in God's house, why can't I? Oh, I know what you're thinking. "Saying a expletive in the house of God is just sinful." You'd probably give me a lecture, certainly ostracize me (which haven't you already?), and then throw a scripture about "unwholesome talk." All the while forgetting about the preacher. But I say to you, cursing, even that word, in the house of God, isn't even close to the magnitude of that preacher and what he was saying, the lies that he was telling in God's name. It isn't even close to the people who answered "that's right" or "sure was" in that congregation. Not. Even. Close.

The Bible is very clear about the use of God's name.

"You must not misuse the name of the Lord your God. The Lord will not let you go unpunished if you misuse his name." (Deuteronomy 5:11)

"You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold guiltless anyone who takes his name in vain." (Exodus 20:7)

"Do not bring shame on the name of your God by using it to swear falsely. (Leviticus 19:12)

The Bible even calls those who misuse His name his "enemies." (Psalm 139:20)

Lying is wrong. Lying in His name is blasphemy. Being a preacher and using your pulpit to lie makes you God's ENEMY!! And I could be off here, but I don't think God's letting his enemies into heaven.

And let me say, I understand. Some ministers are hustlers. They think they gotta say what whoever's paying them wants them to say (and we all know who was paying this preacher). But that doesn't negate the Godly responsibility any preacher has to stand on the pulpit and speak the truth.  Aren't preachers, as men and women of God, supposed to be the truth in a room full of lies? Aren't they supposed to be the people with the integrity and the calling to call out sin, to confront the devil, and to lead us all to salvation? How can they do that if what they're spitting is a lie.

What makes this situation worse is I'm absolutely positive that this preacher knew better. This wasn't just some small-town Iowan minister that was called upon to do the funeral of someone he didn't know. This was someone who (I'm told) knew my mother for years, who dealt with her pretty regularly. So this man knows who my mother was. This man used his position, his "power," his title to try to persuade me (and the rest of the congregation) of something that wasn't true, that was an outright lie. Worse still, he did it while in the performance of his Godly duties. How dare he!!

Preachers have a responsibility to get it right, to speak the truth. The Bible says that they are actually judged more strictly (James 3:1). But more than that, the sole responsibility of a preacher is to speak the truth, at whatever cost. Ezekiel 33:1-6 says, "But if the watchman sees the sword coming and does NOT blow the trumpet to warn the people...I will hold the watchman accountable..." That preacher will be held accountable for the lies he told in Jesus' name, but so too will each of us. Death doesn't change a person's truth. It doesn't change who they were. My mother was not a good mother to me. She may have loved me, I don't know. But she neglected, abandoned, and allowed others to abuse me. She was not a good mother. And no matter how many lies are told, it doesn't change that fact.