The most powerful part of the funeral was when people volunteered to get up and share memories and remembrances of the deceased. His children, sister, nephews, grandchildren, and friends all had touching stories to tell. There were many tears and a few laughs. I shed a few sympathetic tears of my own, even though I was not personally close to him. (Hey, I'm a Timicist, not a monster.)I was still basking in the emotion of these testimonials, the tears drying on my cheeks, when the third minister of the service got up to speak. By now it was 2 pm, the funeral was already an hour long, and due to a promised lunch after the service, I hadn't eaten since breakfast. The third preacher apparently had something to prove over the first two, so he spent the next half hour going on and on about Jesus and the Lord and sheep and even reread some of the Bible passages the first two preachers had read, in case we had forgot them in the past hour. What was conspicuously absent from his ramblings, however, was anything about the man in the casket.
This was merely annoying, but when he started using this man's death as an opportunity to threaten me with hell fire, I was offended and completely turned off. Who the fuck does he think he is, telling us who is or isn't going to heaven based on his very narrow understanding of God? And using a captive audience to do so? I'm here trying to honor this man's life, and I have to endure an infomercial for Jesus? And, I'm fucking starving!!!
Look, I understand that for Christians who believe in heaven, it is a comfort for their loved ones to believe that their dear departed is in a better place. What I object to is using that as a springboard to telling the rest of us we won't be in a better place if we don't accept Jesus into our hearts. Because if there's one thing Mr. Smug Preacher made absolutely clear, it's that there is only one path to salvation, and it has nothing to do with good works or living like Jesus or loving God or loving your fellow human. Nope, only one thing does it, and that's accepting Jesus as God's son.
I've ranted elsewhere about why this is an absurd premise, but during the funeral I thought about the unmitigated tackiness and arrogance it takes presume you have all the answers. And to discount the worth of billions of Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, secular humanists, and followers of hundreds of other religious traditions. And to take advantage of the captive audience to advance your agenda.
I also understand that this was the view of the man in the casket, and he would have wanted his death to serve as an occasion to spread the word. If even one person is drawn to Jesus from this occasion, then it was worth it. Well, what about all the people like me, who are turned off by such a display and vow to never, ever follow Jesus as long as assholes like this preacher speak for him? You could be turning away just as many people as you're helping.
You know what? When I die, I want to force everyone to sit through a two-hour lecture on logic and the scientific method.
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Which brings me to my real point. Attending this funeral also got me to thinking about what a Timicist funeral would look like. So let me take this opportunity to put in writing, for my loved ones, the way(s) I would like to be honored when I die.
First of all, I want my body to be harvested for as many organs as possible. As John Prine sings, "Please don't bury me/ down in that cold, cold ground/ I'm gonna have 'em cut me up/ and pass me all around..." If my death can serve to help others, I'd rather give something concrete, like a lung, rather than scaring them into following my imaginary heroes.Whatever's left of my body should be cremated, so as to leave the smallest possible imprint on the Earth. Actually, what I'd really like to do is be cut up and fed to chickens. Since I've eaten so much chicken in my life, it only seems fair to give back. From chicken to chicken, or something like that. Assuming Timmeat would be good for chickens.
The chickens should be free range, of courseI also wouldn't mind being composted and used to fertilize something-- a tree or flowers or phallic-shaped vegetables. But I don't know if any of that would be legal, so cremation is probably the most practical way to go. As for where to scatter my ashes, I don't have a specific place. I like mountains and scenery & stuff, so maybe some place with a nice view.
I'd like there to be a lot of crying at my funeral. Like, serious wailing and gnashing of teeth. If any of my exes want to sob in anguish and throw themselves on my urn, I wouldn't object to that. But I'd also welcome laughter. Not the dancing-on-your-grave kind of laughter, but the remembering-funny-things-I-said/did kind.
Readings from any of the following authors would be appropriate: David Sedaris, Dan Savage, Bill Bryson, John Irving, Kurt Vonnegut, Nick Hornby. There could even be a reading of some of my writing. Hey, I'll be dead, I'm allowed to have an ego. But please, dear god, none of my poetry from high school.As for music, of course John Prine's "Please Don't Bury Me" should be there. Jimmy Buffett's "I Have Found Me a Home" and "Happily Ever After (Every Now and Then.)" Bob Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" and "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go." Barenaked Ladies' "This Is Where It Ends" and "If I Had $1000000." I'd also like They Might Be Giants' "Particle Man," but only if I die before my brother Dan, who also wants this song at his funeral.
Absolutely no one will be lectured at my funeral about how to live their life.
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The problem with being a corpsezilla and trying to plan your own funeral is that is it the ultimate reliquishment of control. I won't be there to make sure all goes as planned. For the control freak, his funeral is a final, unwilling act of letting go. So do whatever you want. I've said my peace, and when the time comes, I hope I can go rest in it.
