An Irrelevant Rant of an Ambigious Old Man

(An Irrelevant Rant of an Ambigious Old Man) Attending a  funeral is something I would rather not do, but sometimes it is important to the family of the deceased that I attend.  On such occasions I suck it up and attended a funeral not long ago.  I was hoping that the message might serve as an uplifting moment for the family and myself.  Being a cancer survivor who has progressed to dealing with periods of uncertainty,  a message of hope and faith though sometimes hard to find, is as important as the huge number of pills I take two and three times a day.

Not long ago I was caught in a situation where not attending a friend of the family’s funeral was not socially acceptable.  I attended hoping the service would be short and sweet.  I later learned the pastor had a hidden agenda. I closed my eyes an listened  as the service progressed.

The pastor took to the pulpit and with much flair and fanfare he announced that his subject was, Hell, a place you don’t want to go.”  Looking across the church I could see the shocked expressions that spread across the family members face.  It was known through the community that the young man in the casket was not what you would call a church goer.   When a performing artist dies that person is packaged up and shipped off to heaven and they soon reappear on Facebook with wings, and  is purported to be singing in the heavenly choir.   I wondered why this young man was not afforded the same pleasures.  He constantly interrupted his diatribe by telling members of the congregation to reach over and touch somebody or "look at your neighbor" and tell them, “Hell is a place you don’t want to go.”  I have never understood the use of this filler, but what can I say. I am just an ambiguous old man. 

I open my eyes when his voice changed, he was tuning up.  He looked back at the ministers filling the rostrum behind him, a smug smile crossed his face and with a moaning voice he began.  “I am talking about Jesus” somebody in the back of the church screamed “Go ahead.”  “He came down through forty two generations,”  “Stopped over in a little town call Bethlehem.”   When he got to the “born” part he had  the preachers on the rostrum standing and patting him on the back.  I knew the story so well and how it is played out.  You repeat ‘born’ two  or three times based upon the response you get and by the time you get to the dying part you should be able to rock the church.