Funeral For Frank

The Reverend Thomas Green surveyed the audience from the pulpit. Audience was the right word to use. These people had come here to watch a performance and once the funeral was over they would quietly file out of the church not to return until the next death, birth, or marriage.

In the front row sat the grieving widow. The vicar noticed her arm was wrapped tightly around her teenage son. The reverend had checked the records and the couple were married in this church. That was something at least, he thought, though it did concern him to find no record of any christening for the son.

The next few pews were taken up with, what Reverend Green presumed, were other family members and close friends. Each of them bore, in their own way, the mark of sorrow that identified true grief. Behind these people sat several rows of mild acquaintances and work colleagues and finally at the back sat ‘the regulars’ as the vicar liked to call them.

A cough rung out from somewhere in the audience signifying now was the time to speak. Last night the vicar had sat talking to the widow, trying to uncover the soul of the deceased. He’d left the house none the wiser about the dead man as when he’d arrived. Start with the basics.

“We are gathered here today to pay our last respects to”, the reverend looked at his notes, “Frank Thomas. None of us will now when the Lord calls us from this Earth and the fact Frank died when his newly purchased 42 inch rear projection television fell on him demonstrates this better than any Bible reading I give ever could.

“Frank’s passing must have come as a shock to his family, coming, as it did, during the Eastenders’ Sunday omnibus. The only words of comfort I can offer are that since Frank’s final moments were spent listening to a turgid soap opera the end must have been a blessed relief.”

Reverend Green looked straight into the tear filled eyes of the widow. For a moment he wondered whether the opening speech had gone too far. After all in front of him was a family grieving for a loved one. On the other hand these people were not part of his congregation; they were only paying lip service to the church.

“For some here today Frank’s death will have left a gaping hole in their lives, for others a good friend has now departed, those of you sat nearer the back probably only knew Frank briefly; perhaps as a work colleague. The three old ladies sat at the end of the church (who have attended every funeral performed in the last five years) I suspect did not know Frank at all but are here out of a sense of relief that it isn’t them that is dead.”

It was clear that most of the audience didn’t know what to make of this opening speech. A few uncomfortably twitched their fingers and the sound of shuffling shoes echoed around the old building. The reverend considered his position. It was still not too late to stop. He could still revert back to the standard ‘tragic loss’, ‘sadly missed’, and ‘see you in Heaven’ routine without any major repercussions. But why should he? What did the Reverend Green owe these people? Apart from himself could any other person in this room truly claim to be a follower of God?

“I spoke at great length last night with the deceased’s widow trying to gain the measure of the man who lies in the coffin before us. As I stand here now the only thing I remember of our conversation is that Frank collected bottle tops. Indeed his dream was to own the worlds largest bottle top collection.

“With Frank’s death it falls upon his teenage son to take up this aspiration.” Reverend Green extended his right hand and pointed his finger directly at the young lad in the front row, “You must build the worlds largest bottle top collection or your father will rise from the grave and haunt you till the end of your days. This is the responsibility that death brings and your penance for complaining about the television reception.”

The teenager turned ashen then buried his head under his mother’s arm. The widow herself was too immersed in grief to know what the reverend was saying. Others in the crowd though were not grieving and they were beginning to realise that this was not the standard church funeral service.

“It says much about Frank’s life that collecting bottle tops is the only thing that stands out in my mind.” the vicar retracted his hand and placed it firmly on the side of the pulpit for support “Indeed the rest seems to have been a monotonous cycle of working, watching television, and complaining about how City got on in the football.

“I reflected on this and prayed to the Lord for further insights into Frank’s character so that I may provide a fitting eulogy here today. Unfortunately the Lord has also struggled to find anything interesting to say about Frank. If only he’d spent at least a few Sunday’s in God’s house, rather than watching the Premiership highlights on Sky, then I’m sure our Lord would have made more of an effort to provide me with divine inspiration for this sermon. Alas it is now too late to rectify this situation.”

Reverend Green paused in order to draw in breath. He could tell the crowd was starting to get agitated. One of them, a middle-aged man sat four rows back, stood as if to remonstrate with the vicar but then quickly changed his mind and sat back down. The sight of their growing indignation fired something inside. Too many sermons spent preaching to hypocrites had left Reverend Green with a bed of brimstone at the pit of his stomach that was now ready to explode.

“My speech here today may not have been the usual eulogy” the vicar gripped the pulpit with both hands now, “and I can see that many of you feel my words are inappropriate. Ask yourselves this though. How many of you recognise your own comments about Frank reflected in what I say?

“I’m sure that at times all of you have said uncharitable things and yet today wild horses could not drag anything but platitudes from your mouths. Why are you here today? Is it to pay respect to Frank or is it just to make yourselves feel better about some of the things you’ve said?” The vicar released his grip on the pulpit and moved away from it; removing the barrier between him and the audience.

“You know week after week I stand here making speeches about people I have never met, reassuring family and friends that the deceased will be waiting for them in heaven, making saints out of sinners and I can no longer bring myself to do it. Frank wasn’t religious. His family aren’t religious. They don’t need to be here today to express their grief – they should be allowed to do that wherever they wish.”

The people were now listening intently to the vicar’s words and the Reverend Green extended both arms outwards towards the congregation as if he was about to accept the rapture, “Let the word go forth! From this day only true believers need to come to my church for their funeral. Every one else will have to make their own arrangements.

“And how will I know the true believers from the non-believers? Well a funeral service will only be conducted for a parishioner who attends my service on the three consecutive Sundays before they die. Now leave and take my message to the heathens and pagans that propagate these lands.”

Reverend Green lowered his arms and walked out of the church hall through the side door into his private quarters. Out in the hall the people sat quietly for a moment not quite sure what to make of the situation.

Eventually the pallbearers stepped out of their hiding place at the side of the church, raised the coffin onto their shoulders, and carried it out of the church. Frank’s widow and teenage son were the first to follow, their faces pale, and then in single file the other mourners made their way out into the daylight.