A funeral for death by violence

Last week, I presided at a funeral liturgy for two murder victims.

Last week, I presided at a memorial service - essentially, the Catholic funeral liturgy - for a mother and her six-year-old child who were murdered by the mother's boyfriend, who is also the child's father.  The double murder took place in Florida, but the families are originally from the Chicago area.  The boyfriend is under arrest. 

A member of the mom's and child's extended family is a parishioner and friend, which is how I came to be involved. 

Because I still work during the Monday-Friday workdays, I don't do nearly as many funerals as clergy who are available on those days.  But I do a handful each year.  But this is the first time I've had a situation like this one.  

The Catholic liturgical rites for the occasion of death have their own book, the Rite of Christian Funerals.  It contains more than just a single cookie-cutter funeral liturgy; it can be thought of as a collection of liturgies, covering the journey from the death of the loved one through vigil (wake service), funeral celebration, and committal (burial or other form of 'disposition' of the deceased).  And it has brief prayer services for moments such as when the family first gathers in the presence of the body (typically at a funeral home, although I used it once when I was called out to a home where a grandmother had died in the home of one of her children - the deceased was lying in her bed, with the daughter and her husband and children gathered around).  It also includes Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer for the Office of the Dead.

One of the rite's strengths is that it doesn't force a single liturgy to fit all circumstances; rather, it recognizes that there are a variety of circumstances in people's deaths, and it tries to provide prayers and options for many of them.  For example, there is a separate rite for children who die, including prayers for children who weren't baptized; and there are prayers for many different circumstances, such as the death of a parent, the death of a spouse, the death of a child (both minor and adult), the death of various degrees of clergy, of religious, a married couple whose funerals are celebrated together, a spouse who wasn't a Christian, one who died after a long illness, and so on.  There are also prayers to accommodate the reality that many deceased are now cremated.  And the book recognizes that it can't cover every conceivable pastoral circumstance, so it gives the celebrant permission to adapt the contents of the book as necessary. 

Among these options are prayers for a person who died suddenly, and for a person who died accidentally or by violence.  But there aren't prayers for a single funeral for multiple family members who died by violence.  So I had to adapt.  But at least I didn't have to start from scratch; the book has prayers which could be adapted pretty easily.

According to my friend, there is, in addition to the understandable shock and grief at suddenly losing two people who were so young, a lot of anger toward the perpetrator.  One might suppose that there would be estrangement between the deceased mother's family and the boyfriend's family; but it was the boyfriend's parents who brought the cremated remains of the mother and child (their grandchild) back to Illinois, and they were present for the service.  I don't know the families well enough to be able to discern what the deceased mother's family's feelings are toward the boyfriend's family; I am sure it is complicated, perhaps conflicted, and potentially volatile.  

What does a preacher say in such a sensitive situation?  Should the anger and awkwardness be addressed?  I elected not to address it in my homily; but I selected prayers for the liturgy that pray for the gift of peace for the grieving loved ones.

Some other realities of the occasion: the mother was baptized but was a non-practicing Catholic; and the child had not been baptized.  The funeral book doesn't have prayers for a single funeral for multiple folks where some of them are baptized and some are not.  So again, I had to adapt and, to some extent, compose.  During the prayers of the faithful, I used one prayer for the mom, a standard formula:

For n. who in baptism received the light of Christ.  Scatter the darkness now and lead her over the waters of death.  

But I couldn't use that same formula for the child, who had not been baptized.  So I adapted one of the petitions for a child who died:

For n., child of [mother's name] and child of God, that he be held securely in God’s loving embrace, now and for all eternity.

This expresses my conviction that, even though the child hadn't been baptized, he is still a beloved child of God.

The funeral took place, not in a church, but in a secular funeral home.  That decision reflects the reality that the decased mother's parents have a somewhat ambivalent relationship with the church.  They didn't want a church funeral.  In my experience, this is not unusual; and the funeral book has an adaption for that circumstance.  In addition, the mom's dad was insistent that the entire service, end to end, take no more than a half hour.  That kept my homily short!  (Which isn't a bad thing.)  

The family also directed that they didn't want eulogies at the service.  Of course, the church officially also doesn't want eulogies at funerals, although there seem to be quite a few pastors who permit reflections by loved ones during a funeral.  I admit I have done so on occasion.  A wise old pastor once explained the risk of eulogies to me: the bitter adult child who will go on for 20 minutes about how mom (lying there in the casket) ruined her life.  But my experience has been that most people are adept enough at "reading the room" to avoid going off in that direction.  And a number of folks who do speak, seem to find it spiritually helpful to say something about the person, even if their relationship was complicated.  But in this case, I respected the family's wishes and didn't invite anyone to come forward to speak.

Nothing dramatic happened.  We had the service.  Some people thanked me for it, so it seemed to be reasonably well received.  I think these rites are important, and they accomplish good things, even if many people these days would choose to skip them if they could be let off the hook.

And afterward, a number of people came up to speak with me, not to comment on the liturgy, but to bring up things that were on their mind.  One person zeroed in on the question of the fate of the unbaptized child.  Another, a visitor from out of town, asked me if I could refer them to a place to attend a Latin mass the next morning.  Another turned out to have been present at the scene during the crime and somehow survived it; she seemed grateful that the service had taken place.  My wife, who was with me, commented that it is good for the church to be present, in the person of a clergyman, on these occasions - even if it isn't in a Catholic church or a Catholic funeral home.  It's good for the church to go to where the people are rather than insisting on the other way around.