ACROSS THE LINES - Archive (2006-2020)

Published in The Christian Century , March 6, 2007 WHEN I TELL OTHER PASTORS that I hate weddings and love funerals, they smile knowingly. Of course, the dark humor rings true with them--every pastor I know can tell a "wedding from hell" story, and all pastors can think of a few funerals at which they'd love to preside. In my colleagues' smiles I also see an understanding, born from firsthand experience, that funerals--and the events that precede and follow them--present some of the most meaningful opportunities for pastors to witness to the grace and love of God. My passion for funerals has led me to research the historic Christian practices of marking the arrival of death. Since so many generations of Christians lived before dying people were confined to hospitals, they spent their entire lives surrounded by death and dying. As pastors we can draw on their wisdom in ministering to modern people, who struggle so mightily when confronted with the reality of death....

The humorist Art Buchwald died on Thursday, having spent the last year of his life wisecracking about his impending death – often live on television. “I hope I see you next week,” he told George Stephanopoulos of ABC’s This Week on March 12, 2006. “We’ll say, ‘Something’s wrong with the camera – he’s still going!’” But Art Buchwald cracked more than jokes as he died – he also put a few more cracks in a crumbling cultural consensus about how we should prepare for death. The death-watch began last January when Buchwald made the unorthodox decision to forego the kidney dialysis that his doctors told him could prolong his life. “It was a tough decision,” he told Diane Rehm of National Public Radio that same month. “But I don’t want pain. I don’t want to be kept alive for the sake of living. I don’t want Alzheimer’s. I don’t want cancer.” And he added: “I’m very happy with my choices.” Even more striking was the emotional posture that Mr. Buchwald assumed after making his decision. As...

Terry Schiavo died one year ago this Friday, thirteen days after the removal of the feeding tube that had sustained her since 1990 in what her doctors diagnosed as a “persistent vegetative state.” As all but the most media-averse will remember, Schiavo’s husband, Mark, and her parents, Bob and Mary Schindler, disagreed bitterly about removing the feeding tube. Their dispute – which had been played out in the Florida legal system for over a decade – exploded in the court of public opinion last spring, when finally the Schindlers’ appeals were exhausted, and Mark Schiavo was granted legal authority to order the tube removed. The plight of Terry Schiavo and her family sent shivers of recognition across America – almost everyone could imagine their own family torn over what to do if a young loved one were cut down by illness or accident before having spelled out explicit end-of-life instructions. Schiavo’s tragedy also captured the public imagination because her family’s differences ...

Based on the eulogy I delivered at the funeral of my grandmother, Marian Smith, in March, 2006. I dedicated my first book, Mrs. Hunter's Happy Death, to my grandmother. She died the day before it first appeared in bookstores. This is a tale of three books, the first being the spiral-bound Spiderman notebook that belongs to Jacob, my four year-old son. The night before I left town to go to my grandmother’s funeral, I grabbed the notebook and a pencil as Jacob climbed into his bed, and I asked him if he wanted to write a note to his great-grandmother, whom he has always called “Gigi.” Jacob thought for just a minute, then motioned for me to bend over so he could whisper in my ear. “I love you,” he said. “I miss you. I want to visit with you in heaven.” Jacob giggled and sat up straight in his bed as I read his words back to him. Then, with a curious smile and a nod of his head, he said to me confidently, almost smugly, “You show her that. I think she will like what I wrote.” ...