I recently listened to a preacher of extended experience and reputation, who, speaking of some other matter, said it was a thing, “like preaching funerals, all outside the Bible.” I began to reflect. In conversation with various preachers this subject has come up, and all lament over the difficulties connected with the case—all wish that there was no such custom. None are willing to preach such discourses without the distinct avowal that they “do not hope to benefit the dead, but preach for the living.” When the deceased is an incorrigible sinner, as frequently happens, the assertion assumes a peculiar emphasis, which all the people assembled perfectly understand to mean that they suppose the person has gone to perdition. When the deceased has been a faithful Christian, the living are warned and encouraged by his example.
This difficulty is greatly complicated by the sectarian theologians, who hold to abstract spiritual regeneration. They hunt up some remark made by the deceased during his last hours, which they can construe into a “bright evidence” that “he went off happy.” The bereaved friends, in their affliction, greatly desire to be comforted in regard to the condition of their dead; and, in such circumstances, naturally, incline toward the preachers who can do it best. This pays a high premium for a strain and perversion of the truth. The first, but not the least, concession in this direction is to conceal so much of the truth as pertains to the case. The next step is to exalt the virtues of the deceased. The next is to intimate that such virtues will be rewarded in the future state, notwithstanding the fact that the gospel so clearly states that those who neglect the great salvation “shall not escape the just recompense of reward.” The Scriptures say that they who “know not God, and obey not the gospel, shall be punished with everlasting destruction.” When persons call on a preacher to “preach the funeral” of one of their friends, what would they think of him if he should plainly declare this fact, [127] when every hearer knew perfectly well that the deceased was of that class? Who are the preachers that do this? There are none. The custom is to preach on such a subject as will not comprehend the case in hand. Is not that stultifying one’s self? Brethren, have you not caught yourself doing this and continuing to avoid such subjects for weeks afterward, because the friends are in attendance upon your ministration of the word, and may “be hurt” by thinking of their own impenitent end?
It does not appear to me that “preaching funerals” is an unmitigated evil. The plea that it is a time when the feelings of the people are tender, and therefore a good time to impress them with the word of truth, will do very well when preaching over a faithful Christian. But now-a-days preachers are more frequently called to preach over those who die impenitent, and then they dare not preach the word of truth suited to the occasion.
What is such preaching for? Under the Popish doctrine of purgatorial redemption, through the mediation of a priest on earth, these services over the dead were significant. But we repudiate that doctrine. Why, then, do we “preach funerals?” For the same reason that the mourners wear black crape and lustring. Because it’s the fashion! Beyond this there is nothing at all in it. But fashion rules the world; and, as it is fashionable to have funeral sermons, preachers are called on to preach them when the deceased and all the relatives are impenitent sinners.
What is to be about it? Ah! yes! That is just what hundreds of preachers want to know. They are dreadfully hampered by a custom which they fully realize has nothing in it but an empty form, and know not how to help themselves. So many of them as are the slaves of fashion, of course, will have to go right on until the fashion changes. But there are a few good, true men, who assert their independence, and will do what is right in the face of all the forms and customs of society. A suggestion to this class may be of use. Preachers are, to a large degree, the framers of public opinion. They should teach the people better. Just as long as preachers will consent to pronounce a non-committal oration over the corpses of impenitent sinners, so long will they be called on to do it. When we go [128] before the brethren and plainly tell them the difficulties in the case, they will heartily second our efforts at a reform. The teachers, by just setting themselves against it, refusing to do what they realize to be wrong, and making it clear to the disciples that it is a worse than useless custom, can very easily make an end of it.
There are some smaller matters to be considered, such as the time of the preacher, which he can not afford to misspend, even though paid for it; the difficulty of keeping up a variety in discoursing so much on one subject; the expense to the poor, who must try to have a fine coffin, hearse, and mourning garments to make the parade connected with the sermonizing, etc.
The subject is worthy of attention, and I hope the friends of Jesus will not shrink from it because it is so interwoven with the customs and forms of society.
J. F.
The preceding is extracted from the A. C. Review, and is inserted here more for the purpose of calling the attention of preachers still further to the subject than for the purpose of making it the basis of an article. The topic is not deemed of sufficient importance to demand a lengthy discussion; still it is by no means unworthy of consideration.
That the practice of preaching funeral discourses, take it from first to last, has been productive of more good than evil, I believe may be safely doubted. In itself the practice seems to me to be entirely innocent; but whether it is always innocently practiced is what I question. That it is unknown to the New Testament is indisputable; still it is not necessarily wrong on that account; only on that account precisely, if it be even of doubtful tendency or nature, it should at once be disused. It is a custom having its origin in Rome; and constitutes one of a large class of human inventions traceable to that fruitful source of evil. There is no necessity to condemn the custom harshly. The temperate manner in which the preceding piece treats it I think highly proper. That the custom is, as a whole, wrong, I have hardly a doubt, and for years I have declined to encourage it. [129]
In the first place, the death of a friend or relation is an event in itself sufficiently significant and crushing. It needs neither coloring nor comment. In itself it rises far above all efforts to do it justice. Such efforts are tame in comparison with the event they describe. A pulseless corpse needs not the living tongue to give it meaning. Like that silent body, all ceremonies connected with it are the more imposing from being silent.
In the second place, resolutions to reform formed by the friends of the dead on funeral occasions generally prove in the end powerless for good. In not one case in a hundred are they kept; and all such resolutions formed and broken are an injury to the mind. Even men are not at themselves on such occasions. The mind is so wrecked that it is unsound, and incapable of ordinary and normal action. Its resolutions are the act of the mind when in a morbid state. No wonder, then, that it refuses to be bound by them when it comes to itself. I have no more confidence in a man’s resolution to reform formed while listening to a heart-rending funeral discourse, than I have in such resolutions when formed on what is believed to be a death-bed.
Again: a funeral discourse is in not one case in a thousand just to the facts in the case. The temptation to comfort the living is too strong to allow justice to be done to the dead. There is sure to be, on the one hand, a suppression of truth as to faults; and on the other, exaggeration as to virtues. If this is not absolutely unavoidable, it is at least practically so through the infirmities of human nature. It is hence best to avoid action altogether where the temptation to wrong action is so strong that it will not be resisted. If even a murderer dies, and we preach his funeral, we must not say he is gone to hell. We must say “he is in the hands of a merciful God,” and use many other similar gentle expressions, which, when translated into plain English, mean that it is not quite sure he is gone to hell. In other words and plainly, we must inspire a little, just a little, false hope, otherwise we are intolerably rude and cruel. No true man’s heart can approve this. If funeral discourses were what they ought to be, few preachers would ever be called on to preach them. Men want their dead flattered; this the preacher knows, and this the preacher does. [130] Let a preacher stand over a lifeless body, and plainly tell that he was a covetous man, or that he never prayed in his family in his life, or that he would get drunk, or that he had been guilty of any other crime, and he will not only never be called on by that family to preach another funeral discourse, but they will never love him more. But why not? Shall the whole truth not be told? If not, then, let nothing be told. Leave the world to its own judgment, which, after all, it is very likely to insist on, despite of all the gracious things the preacher may say.
Still further, no man goes to hear a funeral discourse with the expectation of learning anything. They go merely as a compliment to the dead, and their minds are in no frame to be instructed. They want the services to be very short, and to contain nothing doctrinal. If a formal effort is made to teach them the peculiar tenets of the preacher, they feel that their courtesy has been taken advantage of, and are not pleased. In this possibly they may be wrong, but such is the fact, and it prevents them from being benefited.
Many other things might be said against the custom, and perhaps some for it, but it is not proposed to argue its merits at present. Upon the whole, I trust my brethren will, as fast as they can, allow the custom to fall into disuse. Let each preacher publicly state his objections once, and the work will be in large part done.
Of course nothing here said is to be construed against paying the dead decent and even profound respect in the moment of consigning them to their last sleep. This we would encourage as cordially as we discourage the preaching of funerals. But respect for the dead by no means demands that we perform an act of even doubtful propriety. It hence can not require a funeral.
Finally, of all the insipid speeches that men make, or vaporings that they indulge in, preaching funerals stands whole leagues ahead. I never yet heard a funeral discourse that a sensible man would not be ashamed to see in print. This is another reason for discontinuing them. When men can find nothing new to say which is worth hearing, and can only say old things which are not worth hearing, they should say nothing. [131]
[Volume V: April, 1868.]
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