EULOGY

The place where a eulogy will take place is usually one where we’d rather not want to be because it means we are going to a funeral.  However, we’ll probably not mind if we are the reason for it because for the first time what will be said about us will be all perfectly good. The deliverer of the eulogy will, in fact, be impeccably kind to the dearly departed where excellent attributes never before heard, like they were state secrets, will come to light as they are promptly declassified for the occasion; ironically, however, the timing is a little bit off because by that time the object of the accolade can no longer hear it, not that he or she will really care, of course.  So, for whom is it that a eulogy is prepared and delivered?  People wonder.

One eulogy I know that covered all the bases was that of Marc Anthony on Julius Caesar’s funeral after he was assassinated at the Roman Senate, in the middle of March a very long time ago. If the Romans did not know then that part of their anatomy can be borrowed, momentarily, they found out soon enough right at the start when Marc Anthony asked them to lend him their ears.  Then he proceeded to disarm and put at ease Julius’ enemies initially by saying, “I come to bury Caesar; not to praise him”.

Then, of course, we knew what happened.  He went on to praise Caesar and directed the people’s ire to those who committed the assassination.  Brutus was caught off guard.  Now, that was some eulogy but, of course, it was just too good and too long because Shakespeare wrote it in Act III, of “The Tragedy of Julius Caesar”, a fictional account of that historical event.  Well, we don’t have old William S. to write our eulogy but despite that we do hear many good ones.  Great ones, in fact, and there were some funny ones as well.  Marc Anthony’s version was way too long and it will not work today.  As the TED TV show is well noted for, the producer makes sure the presenters in the program limit their talk to eighteen minutes.  The reason is that numerous studies had shown that the audience attention starts to stray after the eighteenth minute mark, on average, on any presentation.

It is a bit unfair, of course, that eulogies be limited by time.  But they should.  Aside from the fact that there is only so much allotted time for the church service, there is the funeral yet to be done, folks have other things to do as well. So, a eulogy therefore must be read like a resume, not a novel.  Briefly as they should be, they are remarkably resumes in reverse. Technically unnecessary because they’re not like letters for college admission since the prior school’s transcript of records speak for themselves and it’s definitely not a job application, if we are to believe that in heaven people no longer have to work.  There had been circumstances, however, when someone prepares a eulogy as if it were that extra visa document the departed needed to have in their person just in case a regular passport is not good enough at the checkpoint preceding the Pearly Gates.  Or, someone writes it as if it is an insurance document for extra policy in case the departed did not have enough coverage for atonement and he or she is assessed with additional penance upon arrival at the gate.  It could be an expensive fee for all eternity.  Many things one must need to be covered because, “who knows?”

In the end we do eulogies for the benefit of the living – truly for those still around and are able to attend the funeral because like I said earlier the futility of the departed ever hearing it is more than obvious. We have to feel good a person’s life had been accounted for or that it actually did count for something.  We begin to see this when suddenly we find ourselves going to funerals more often.  I formulated this theorem, not just a theory, mind you.  The frequency of funerals we go to is directly proportional to how old we are. As a corollary to that, the older we get the more people we know who sooner or later will pass on and the longer we live the more people we outlive – then we go to their funerals.  It is not such a bad theorem but there is a downside.  The more we outlive people the less there will be to go to our own funeral, the choices as to who will deliver the eulogy will be sparse, and fewer still to hear it who, alas, will promptly forget the wonderful nuggets said about our lives even before the last hymn is sung.  If there is a point to this morbid thought I don’t know it yet.

I was asked to deliver the eulogy for my mother in law four months ago.  I was honored and I did it because she was a great woman, definitely a wonderful mother in law, and was loved by everyone who knew her.  I must have done a good job because people came to me after the funeral and told me so but what really counted the most was when my wife asked me to write hers in case her heavenly train leaves the station before mine does.  And, conversely, that I might as well write one for myself which she would read if my own train blows the all aboard whistle ahead of hers.  Seriously, a eulogy should be a celebration of the life of the dearly departed.  I said that at the funeral for my mother in law who lived a full life at ninety, survived by a husband, six children and over two dozen grandchildren and great grandchildren.  Her life and passing had to be celebrated because where she was going, which by the way is the exact same destination for each and every one of us,  the pain and anguish of illness and the debilitation of aging shall be no more.  I said too that on her passing tears were shed like rain, from her family and friends it was like a heavy downpour for days and days, but mists always follow after a rain – and it is on misty days when rainbows abound.  We should all look at it that way.  Eulogies should continue to be written and delivered because compassion cannot be selective.