Lessons from a Funeral

Few rituals straddle the intersection between religious faith and future hope, on the one hand, and the increasingly narrowing horizons of secular society, on the other, than do funerals. And seldom is that more obvious than when secular society becomes an invited guest at a Christian funeral, which happens every so often when public officials' funerals are celebrated in churches with unabashedly Christian rituals. Of course, many ostensibly Christian funerals are increasingly Christian in name only, deteriorating more and more into incoherent "celebrations of life" or some similar neologisms. What a blessing, then, when a semi-state occasion like the funeral of the Duke of Edinburgh illustrates, on world-wide TV, the essential meaning and purpose of a Christian funeral service!

In the United Kingdom, only the sovereign (and anyone she designates) gets a full "State Funeral." The only such event in the current Queen's reign was the funeral of Sir Winston Churchill in 1965. So Prince Philip would not have had a full "State Funeral," in any case. Even so, the strange circumstances of the present pandemic put additional limitations on what would otherwise have presumably involved the presence of many representatives from all over the Commonwealth and the wider world, as well as the participation certainly of many more musicians. Having worshipped daily in Saint George's Chapel during my summer sabbatical at Windsor in 2005, I am familiar with the site and so suspect that it could easily have fit many more, even with social distancing, but it was obviously important to be obedient to the official restrictions, however arbitrary they may seem. In the end, the unusual circumstances may have made the ceremonial details stand out all that much more, amid the sad images of the royal widow alone with her immediate family, all the while thereby highlighting even more the religious ritual itself.

With only a handful of singers instead of a full choir, the simpler music managed to convey the mood maybe even more effectively than would likely have been the case otherwise. Even the National Anthem's muting of its normally (and appropriately) triumphant sound seemed to make it uniquely fit the occasion, further highlighting the aloneness of the Queen, symbolically linking her bereavement with that of so many who have been unable to mourn their loved ones with full ceremonial this past year. 

Of course, most of the military and ceremonial flourishes were unique to the military and royal occasion. But there were other features of this modern but very Anglican service that other liturgical churches could appreciate and appropriate - among them the welcome presence of black vestments (matched by a congregation wearing appropriate funeral attire) and the even more welcome absence of any homily or eulogy. (There were, admittedly, appropriately personal references integrated into the Program and the Prayers recited by the Archbishop and the Dean, but they were modest encroachments on the liturgy compared with what happens when a homily - more typically a eulogy labeled a homily - is preached.)

If there has been any long-term benefit in the wake of the unanticipated forced abridgment  of so many funeral rites because of this pandemic it may be in the recovery of the basics of what a funeral service is supposed to be about, which we saw so beautifully on display in the dignified and somber, but faith-filled rites celebrated on Saturday for the Duke of Edinburgh.

(Saint George's Chapel, Windsor Castle, site of the Duke of Edinburgh's Funeral)