The rest of the story
Officiating a funeral always starts me thinking about other people I have lost, whether members of my family or parishioners with whom I have served. There is no question about it. Funerals are hard. They are hard on members of the family. They are difficult for a person’s friends. Grief also affects the caregivers involved. Hospice workers, medical providers, and funeral home staff are all saying goodbye in their own way. No matter how robust one’s faith in Christ’s resurrection, it is always difficult to mark the end of our earthly relationship with someone we love.
On the other hand, something incredibly powerful happens at nearly every funeral I attend. We get an opportunity to learn (as Paul Harvey used to say) “the rest of the story.” Those of us old enough to have heard his radio program can remember the detailed way that he would describe the unknown life of an otherwise famous person. Part of the challenge was to see if the listener could guess who he was talking about before he uttered the words, “now you know the rest of the story.”
No matter how intimate we are with someone, it is utterly impossible to know every facet of that person’s life. Every human life is prism through which we may see intense and vivid colors. The beauty we encounter there can be overwhelming. But it is not the whole picture. That person shines brightly in other places and in other ways. We know only our part of that person’s story. We see only one or two facets at a time.
Siblings look at each other through the facet of siblinghood. Children see only parents. Parents see only children and grandchildren. Friends are rarely privy to closest of family secrets. The impressions of classmates, comrades and colleagues are shaped by the limited vantage point they had of the person. Each facet of a person’s life was real and true, yet it was not the whole picture. The overwhelming kaleidoscopic beauty that is the human person is only visible in its entirety to the God who made us.
This is part of what makes the unique gathering that is the funeral so comforting. It is often the first time that many facets of a person’s life are on display for all to see. Few other moments provide an opportunity for friends, family, colleagues, comrades, and caregivers to all sit down together and share stories. In every funeral I have ever attended or officiated I have learned something new about the person whom we have gathered to grieve. It is a rare and intimate honor to be able see a glimpse of the beauty others experienced in the life of our mutual friend. If I had not taken the time to listen, that facet of someone else’s life would be forever lost to me.
In a few situations, learning “the rest of the story” allowed me to forgive someone to whom I had hardened my heart. Hearing tales of combat stress, mental health struggles, parental abuse, and drug addiction gave me another facet through which to understand the behavior I had encountered. My negative experience was still real, but it was not the person’s whole story. Tragic as it is, self-destructive behavior usually makes far more sense when placed into a larger context.
Of course, it is not necessary to wait until a person’s death to seek out “the rest of the story.” There are beautiful, multi-faceted people on display in our lives right now. People are far more than the small, one sided view to which we normally limit ourselves. Learn more about the people with whom you live and work. There are far too many times where I found myself wishing I had known “the rest of the story” before the day in which that person was turned back over to the care of God. Just think of all the laughter, memories, forgiveness, and love that we could have shared if only I had long ago learned to see others as Christ saw them.
