Last week an old friend
died. The family asked me to take
the funeral and as an old preacher (yes it is true J), I of course agreed.
But this was
not your usual situation. The family was large and the circle of
friends,
colleagues and associates much larger. What stood out was the
incredible
diversity of traditions and interests. The family itself ran the gamut
from
practicing Protestants through non-practicing whatevers, on to deeply
religious
orthodox (Jewish) folks. Everybody had their needs, and everybody had
their
opinions as to how things should be done. Negotiating all of that would
have
been difficult under the best of circumstances, and given the fact that
this
was a funeral, extended time for negotiation was not available. What to
do?
Open Space – of course,
and just know that the
incredible complexity of peoples, needs, and expectations would find
appropriate _expression_. Sitting in a circle was not an option, for the
funeral
was to take place in a rather standard “chapel” setting –
rows of seats facing the front. But you don’t have to sit in a circle
in
order to be in a circle. Indeed a circle of the mind will do.
I began by saying who I
was (most people didn’t know
me from Adam) and that we were here to celebrate the life of our friend
as the
circle of friends. Our celebration would involve sharing our memories.
I
pointed out that while we sometimes think of memories as being all
about what we
have lost, the truth was rather different. Indeed memories are the only
thing
we ever really have. As the present instant passes, it merges into the
larger
moment of our memories, and our memories create the rich tapestry of
human
experience. It will be our privilege to unroll that tapestry. And so we
began.
There was a list of sorts
indicating who might speak, but I
didn’t have a clue who they were or what they would say. I was aware
that
we had one hour, I knew that time would be honored, and I sat down.
Family
member followed colleagues and friends. Each spoke in their own way for
their
own time. We went from laughter to tears, and back to laughter, pausing
for
deep silent moments. At the precise end of the hour, the last person
sat down.
I said a short blessing and we left.
It took a while for the
family and friends to make their way
out the door, and I snuck out a back door to enjoy my pipe on the
street. As I
stood there, somebody I had never seen before came up and asked me what
was
going on inside. I said we were having a funeral. But, he said, they
are all
laughing. I didn’t expect him to understand my reply, but I responded –
Yes I know. It’s the memories.
I would certainly not
recommend that all funerals be such as
we did, but I am sure that is just the way I would like to go. Be that
as it
may, my purpose for sharing this story here is not so much about
funerals but
open space, and the ways in which space may be opened in each and every
moment
of our lives. I find that when we do that the course of events passes
naturally
from laughter to tears and back to laughter, stopping along the way for
deep
silent moments. It is all about creating the space for rich living. I
think
that is what we do.
Harrison
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