Maybe the real question is “why death?” But I can think of several good reasons for death – none for funerals.
Why “visitation”? If your friends and family want to support and comfort you, don’t they know where you live?
Why the “viewing”? Nobody looks “good” or “lifelike” when they’re dead.
Why the trek to the cemetery to watch the box being lowered into the ground? Isn’t our imagination enough? We know where he’s going, do we have to watch?
Why the lunch at the church? We’re supposed to have an appetite?
I have never once had the feeling that anyone gained any solace from any part of a funeral ceremony.
I dunno. It just seems like a funeral is an incredible burden at a time when you already have more than you can bear.
There’s nothing that happens at a funeral – company of friends, prayer, song, eulogy – that couldn’t be done another way.
Given the many different ways people have treated their dead over the past forty centuries and six continents, the only answer I can come up with is “Because that’s the way we do things around here.”
There is rarely a logical “why” behind cultural practices.
Dr. Fidelius, Charlatan
Associate Curator Anomalous Paleontology, Miskatonic University
Projector Emeritus, Grand Academy of Lagado
“You cannot reason a man out of a position he did not reach through reason.”
I am speaking from personal experience only here. My father died in a car accident which was, obviously, very sudden.
The funeral was, to me, comforting in several ways. First, it is true that friends and family can and do call on the bereaved at home. However, my dad’s funeral completely filled to overflowing the largest church in town. There was something touching, that made me feel better, about seeing all those people together, at the same time. It affirmed to me that my dad had been well-liked and well-regarded. In addition, we heard music my dad loved. People who loved him got up to speak about him. These might be minor things, but they meant a lot to me at the time.
Second, in my particular case, I needed the funeral, including the burial, to grasp what had happened. My dad’s death was so sudden and shocking. I think I needed something that was out of the normal range of experiences. Staying at home and having friends come by is routine, even if the reason they come by differs. I was in absolute shock, and I needed something, for lack of a better word, dramatic to hit it home to me that my father, who had been so alive, was dead and in that box.
I was eighteen at the time, and my brothers were fourteen and eleven. I think the funeral helped make it more real for them, too.
I agree that funerals can be more of a burden than they’re worth, but I think it also depends somewhat on the situation.
TIME ELAPSED SINCE I QUIT SMOKING:
One week, two days, 10 minutes and 0 seconds.
360 cigarettes not smoked, saving $45.03.
Life saved: 1 day, 6 hours, 0 minutes.
Well, Satan beat me to it with the one-line summary. But I do want to respond to one thing in particular from the OP:
I know a lot of people who get a sense of definite closure from seeing that box lowered and covered. “Denial” is a big part of grieving, and when you see something that final, it can help to get past the denial phase.
The basic, historical reason behind the viewing, the visitation, and the ceremonial trip to the burying place is so that everyone in the community can be sure that he’s really dead.
Part of the reason for the viewing, which is also sometimes called a “wake”, was also to make sure that he was really, physically dead, not just in a coma or something. People in earlier eras didn’t have any way to tell if someone was dead other than, say, holding a mirror up to his lips to see if there was any condensation from his breath. This is pretty unreliable. So people over the last thousands of years learned to wait until a person was really dead, or as John 11:39 puts it, “Lord, he stinketh,” before burying him. Without the preservative action of formaldehyde (which is what the funeral home charges you $$$ for), a dead body begins to give off a distinctive odor within a day or so, depending on the weather.
There are plenty of true stories of corpses sitting up in their coffins at their own funerals and asking, “What’s going on?”
“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast!” - the White Queen
I’m leaving explicit instructions for cremation and a party. Heck, everybody who comes can take home some ashes and bone fragments and put them in their garden, or their flowerpot, or the litter box.
This last funeral was for an 8-month-old, and I think I was just feeling bad. None of the rational reasons for a funeral seemed to apply.
And what’s so bad about denial? It’s a wonderful coping mechanism, and I don’t see anything wrong with it. Keep it up as long as you can, I say.
Personally, I feel I have been to more than my fair share of funerals in my life. And must agree with the “closure” sentiment. Especially considering this:
A family arguement of some 20 years ago tore my mother and her siblings apart. For years I only saw my Uncle at “family socials”. He was a good man and someone who’s company I enjoyed. He passed away last year and, his wife (my aunt) actually told me to stay away and not come to his funeral…I wouldn’t be “welcome.” Now two years later, I find myself forgetting that he’s gone. I’m sure if I attend the funeral, I wouldn’t feel that way. (But would the consequences be worth it?)
Ugh. Luckily, I’ve never had to go through this. All the family members I’ve lost since adulthood have been much older, so there is always the “s/he had a long life” to fall back on.
That’s all well and good, but reality has to show up eventually. I see no point in denying reality in these cases.
It would be difficult to attend the funeral of a child, and I never have. It would make me just angry, I think wondering, ‘why’.
The funerals I’ve been to, have all been for older people. I’ve always hated the ‘viewing’ the most, but in my father-in-law’s case, it was a bit helpful. We had been with him at the hospital when he died, and he had that eyes wide open, mouth dropped, dispairing look…it was very haunting.
Then at the funeral home, my husband wanted to ‘see’ his dad, and I went with him, half squinting my eyes, getting myself prepared, and then I saw him lying there and the shock was all wiped away. I KNOW that it is silly, but I * felt better * here was a visible example of ** he’s not here ** anymore, but this face didn’t cause the tremendous physical pain * to me * to see him.
I’m sorry that it was so painful for you to have to witness so young a child’s funeral, my heart goes out to you.
I’ve been to a number of relatives funeral’s in the last few years and although they are always painful events, the gathering together of friends and relatives gives a focus to all the emotions and thoughts that are fighting for your attention at a time like this.
Many people (particularly men) seem to find this the one time they can allow themselves to ‘let go’ and show their emotion without feeling that they are showing weakness.
For me the ‘viewing’ was something I had to do as a final goodbye. An affirmation that the person I loved is gone and all that is left is their body.
The point of the funeral (not from a religious standpoint - I am an athiest) is to say goodbye, to greive and then to try and remember the good times. After a few drinks at the wake, all the stories and memories of things that have happened during that person’s life are relived by friends and relatives. This can give solace and perhaps helps to begin the healing process.
One thing that is often pointed out at funerals is that for many people (particularly those with families great distances apart) this is one of the few times that all the relatives will come together in one group. It is a shame that it often takes an occasion such as this to bring people together.
One final thought, is that for me having a grave to visit means there is somewhere I can go and be at peace and think. I can relive memories, remember how things were, and be sad. Sadness is as much a part of life as happiness and doesn’t have to be looked upon as being only negative. Ying and yang, life and death.
