I ended my time in the seminary over 42 years ago, a number that just mystifies me. It might suggest that I am getting older, but I desperately hope that there is another reason. I was thinking recently about things that they either never taught us in the seminary or things that they taught us that never really sank in.
One of the most glaring omissions in my education/retention was the profound sadness of funerals. If you have even a shred of humanity (and you do), this does not seem like a burst of insight. However, I was thinking back to how we were trained and educated(?) about what we would be doing as priests. With respect to funerals, I vaguely recall studying the prayers we would say for wakes and funerals, the actions we would use during a funeral Mass, and that was about it.
My first few years as a priest, I was stationed at a Catholic high school and lived at the school, so there were only a couple of funerals in which I participated – and probably none where I was the main celebrant or presider or whatever term is appropriate. There was one parent of a student who died and a grandparent of another student – and that is about all I remember. I had never experienced the loss of someone I was close to except for a grandmother when I was in grade school.
When my residence was changed from the high school to the parish, I started participating in more funerals. But again, in hindsight, hopefully I said the right things, but I am not certain if I was helpful to anyone at those funerals. At best, I hoped that I did no harm and helped people by being present. Sigh, who knows?
Where is this joyful prose going? Is there possibly a point to this?
Since I was named pastor in 1990, I had the privilege/responsibility to preside at growing numbers of funerals. Over those nearly 25 years and largely within the past ten years, I started to notice the toll that funerals took on me. (The more trenchant a person is, the more likely they would be to simply tell me – “that is your job. Deal with it.”) For years, even decades, I have talked with families of those who lost someone – and mentioned the need to take care of themselves –and to realize the tremendous impact that the grieving process has on every area of life. Occasionally over these years, I would occasionally wonder about how I handled the grieving process – which leads me to the point of this blog.
Several times in earlier blogs, I alluded to the paradox of ministry – we minister to people in good times and bad – and yet these very experiences also take a toll on us. We can be helpful to people in their crises and sadness – and not recognize the need to practice self-care as well.
I find being part of a funeral, connecting with the family, and especially preaching, is a profoundly intense experience. We do have a good pastoral system for working with people at the time of loss: staff meet with families to plan the funeral, do prayers at the wake and burial, the funeral itself including the music, and then there are follow-up ministries to help people during the grieving process, especially during the first year. Usually 4 different staff members, including me, connect with the families in significant ways. Often, parishioners have funerals here for family members who are not parishioners, a recognition, I believe, of the quality and goodness of the staff.
Some funerals may seem to be “routine” – which is probably not the most accurate word since there is no such thing as a routine death in one’s family. Every loss affects someone in a variety of ways.
This summer, and really this past year, there have been a number of funerals which were anything but “routine.” Several young people dying well before anyone’s expected time. People dying in their 20’s, 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s well before the expected time. People dying in their 70’s and 80’s and some in their 90’s – again too early for many. An awful lot of these people, I knew well – and for years. I also had a person die who was my oldest friend.
It seems like the funerals this past year have just had an accumulative effect of sadness which is difficult to shake. I know all the psychological techniques to establish closure in difficult situations. I believe viscerally that death is not the end. I try to be a person of hope and joy. I do believe that Jesus has conquered sin and death – and so will we. But, I’ve got to tell you – this has been a tough time for me. By the end of a funeral, often I am just wiped out and it stays with me for a while. I gave it everything I had to try to bring comfort and even hope to the family and friends of the deceased. These funerals are anything but routine. They are primal experiences.
Just in the past six weeks, we have had an unprecedented number of funerals – and many that were just wrenching experiences of profound sadness. They really seemed to be relentless.
Sometimes people observe that I preach well at these times. I always thank the person, but never mention how difficult it is for me – and do mention how difficult this time is for the family.
I recognize that I do have some choices in how I face these experiences. I can make it routine – and essentially go through motions and not let it really get to me. That is probably an easier approach and I know that some priests do that. But I really cannot do it – and just do not want to act that way. These connections at such times are privileged moments to be a pastor. This really is what we’re meant to be about. As easy as it might be to work in such a way that I don’t let these things affect me, deep down, I know that this just ain’t me to act that way.
It would have been nice if someone had mentioned in the seminary that we are going to be experiencing profound sadness at times in ministry if we do our jobs right. Jesus wept. And so must we if we are going to connect with him - and try to represent him.
The above words may be a little disjointed. Not totally certain of my point – but did want to share it. My conclusion is not that I just do or want things that are easy. Some things are really hard – and that may be ok since that is what we’re about and why we are here, especially in my walk of life.
Sigh. (If you have never noticed, I use this word a lot.)
p.s. - This is complicated - and so am I!
(NOTE: After rereading this posting, I must admit that I was somewhat horrified. It just seemed so depressing - which means that it was an accurate snapshot of where I have been lately, but in no way, an end product of who I am. I was thinking about just deleting the posting, but then decided to leave it up for this simple reason: We can all be down. We can all be depressed. Sometimes the reasons may be biochemical and sometimes situational. Mine are best described right now as situational. Therefore, the question that I must work through is to determine the steps I must take to move past this point - and how to become internally and externally the person of joy that I want to be. It's a struggle - so maybe if you too struggle, this might be helpful. I hope so.)
