My dad's "celebration of life"
Last Saturday was my dad's memorial service, styled by the family as a "celebration of life". It was good to see so many people from different parts of my father's life come together to celebrate in song and remembrance, but I’m still dealing with lingering discomfort about some parts of the service.
The service was co-officiated by the regular pastor of the church in Thorntown, and my step-brother John, who is also a Methodist minister.
The service opened with a prayer and several hymns. My sister tells me that before his death, my dad told her what hymns he wanted at the service. I thought he made pretty good choices, even though they weren't the ones I remember him liking when I was a kid. Tastes change over time.
The bulk of the service was open for people to stand and share something about my father. It took a little while, but eventually several people spoke up. During one pause, my step-brother John took his turn, which lasted about 20 minutes. I felt that John took up too much time, keeping more timid people from saying anything.
I also feel that John didn’t characterize my father accurately. Saying that it was particularly appropriate for Dad, John told a story about a man lost in the woods at night, who gets so scared that he runs off a cliff. He tries to hang on to some roots, but eventually he falls, and is caught in the arms of God. This story wasn’t appropriate for Dad. First of all, he would never get lost in the woods. He was more at home outdoors than in. More importantly, he wasn’t afraid of death, and he certainly didn’t try to cling frantically to life.
At another point, John claimed "I hate doctors, but I know Duane (my dad) hated them more". My dad may have disliked medical procedures, but he never “hated” anyone at any time in his life.
I appreciate the contribution that the Thorntown pastor made to Dad’s service, but I resent the fact that John turned the service into a call to evangelize. It felt like his message was “go out there, find people who have not accepted Christ, and convert them, because it’s what Duane would have wanted.” I don’t feel that this was in keeping with the way my father lived his life. Yes, Dad was a good person and a good Christian, but being a good Christian didn’t MAKE him a good person. The fact that he was a good person made it easy for him to be a good Christian. As Dad got older, he approached his faith with more zeal, but he never lost respect for other people’s views. Dad accepted people the way they are, and he lived his life as an example that people could follow if they chose. Dad was humbly pleased and thankful if his example led people to the Church, but he NEVER judged anyone for NOT making that choice.
Since my dad’s death, I have been searching for a way to satisfy two basic needs. I feel the need to honor Dad’s life in a way that he would appreciate, but I also need a way to express my own thoughts and feelings and grow with them in a way that is personally meaningful. Because I don’t share the same faith that was such a big part of Dad’s life, no “church service” in either of our traditions will satisfy both of these needs.
In Dad’s memory, my boss gave me a membership in the Arbor Day Foundation, which includes ten trees. I think I will find the planting of those trees to be the most appropriate celebration of my father’s life.
The service was co-officiated by the regular pastor of the church in Thorntown, and my step-brother John, who is also a Methodist minister.
The service opened with a prayer and several hymns. My sister tells me that before his death, my dad told her what hymns he wanted at the service. I thought he made pretty good choices, even though they weren't the ones I remember him liking when I was a kid. Tastes change over time.
The bulk of the service was open for people to stand and share something about my father. It took a little while, but eventually several people spoke up. During one pause, my step-brother John took his turn, which lasted about 20 minutes. I felt that John took up too much time, keeping more timid people from saying anything.
I also feel that John didn’t characterize my father accurately. Saying that it was particularly appropriate for Dad, John told a story about a man lost in the woods at night, who gets so scared that he runs off a cliff. He tries to hang on to some roots, but eventually he falls, and is caught in the arms of God. This story wasn’t appropriate for Dad. First of all, he would never get lost in the woods. He was more at home outdoors than in. More importantly, he wasn’t afraid of death, and he certainly didn’t try to cling frantically to life.
At another point, John claimed "I hate doctors, but I know Duane (my dad) hated them more". My dad may have disliked medical procedures, but he never “hated” anyone at any time in his life.
I appreciate the contribution that the Thorntown pastor made to Dad’s service, but I resent the fact that John turned the service into a call to evangelize. It felt like his message was “go out there, find people who have not accepted Christ, and convert them, because it’s what Duane would have wanted.” I don’t feel that this was in keeping with the way my father lived his life. Yes, Dad was a good person and a good Christian, but being a good Christian didn’t MAKE him a good person. The fact that he was a good person made it easy for him to be a good Christian. As Dad got older, he approached his faith with more zeal, but he never lost respect for other people’s views. Dad accepted people the way they are, and he lived his life as an example that people could follow if they chose. Dad was humbly pleased and thankful if his example led people to the Church, but he NEVER judged anyone for NOT making that choice.
Since my dad’s death, I have been searching for a way to satisfy two basic needs. I feel the need to honor Dad’s life in a way that he would appreciate, but I also need a way to express my own thoughts and feelings and grow with them in a way that is personally meaningful. Because I don’t share the same faith that was such a big part of Dad’s life, no “church service” in either of our traditions will satisfy both of these needs.
In Dad’s memory, my boss gave me a membership in the Arbor Day Foundation, which includes ten trees. I think I will find the planting of those trees to be the most appropriate celebration of my father’s life.