At The Funeral

I sat at the back today. I never sit in the back, but today it seemed appropriate to leave room for those who were more familiar with the deceased. The minister was a tall Baptist preacher with a deep voice that was cracked around the edges, perhaps still recovering from a fiery sermon this past Sunday. His message was familiar but comfortable. He didn't preach a namby pamby cotton candy sermonette built around a story from which his listeners were to absorb some spiritual insight, no sir. There was no doubt, the only important thing in life is to be saved and gettin' saved is only done when we turn our life over to Jesus. The man who had left behind his earthly tabernacle was saved because he got everything right with the Lord a year and a half ago in a visit with the preacher. Most of the people in front of me listening to the kind but firm admonitions were aged. Not many people come out to a funeral on a Wednesday afternoon these days. Nowadays you're more likely to hear an excuse as to why one can't possibly be at the funeral than to hear of people taking a little time off from work to comfort the grieving. But these people had left the workaday world behind many years ago. Earlier they compared how many years they had been retired with the same passion of neighborhood boys on Christmas morning comparing their new bicycles. Of course all I could see was the backs of their heads. Thinning hair, tightly curled permed hair, hair that was perfectly in place due to a healthy slosh of hair tonic, hair that was colored into a fairly unnatural hue - but not too much so. Hair that once caught they eye of young lovers. Hair that turned gray as it suffered the stress of raising adolescents or contemplating the later years with little financial support. And now hair that adorned the head of one who has seen much in this life, and who is mostly passed over by a society that worships youth and beauty. Those heads were not motionless ... they moved often during the Preacher's sermon. "Do not let your hearts be troubled" brought several nods. In fact whenever the words of Jesus were rehearsed, a room full of aged friends nodded their approval. While the organ music was soft and lovely, the flowers were bright, the American flag draped the casket, the widow softly wept, the children squirmed, someone checked their watch, the preacher labored under his task .... it was the words of my Master in the ears of an elderly listener that yielded the greatest attention at the funeral.