The mission priest Tom* came to ask a favour. A young man had died, and he had no family. There was no money for a coffin, and no pallbearers. Would I help him to bury this young man? Of course I agreed, and we all dug into our pockets and purchased a simple pine coffin for the burial. As I attended the funeral service, it struck me just how sad this all was; there were three people at the funeral Mass; the kindly German priest, the caring South African undertaker Gerard* who had waived the fees for the burial, and myself. Afterwards we travelled far, far out to a sandy area near a shanty town. A hole had been hewn in the hard baked ground, and Tom, Gerard and myself acted as pall bearers to the pitifully light coffin which attested to how hard the final illness had been. We placed the coffin in the ground, and the priest prayed the last prayers. As I looked around at the other graves in the extreme heat, I remember thinking to myself, 'So this is what hell looks like'. The place was desolate, no grass or trees or tombstones, just mounds of baked earth over pitiful graves attesting to those who had no family. This just wasn't right. Everyone needs a family.
So I stepped forward, and out of the blue found myself singing at the top of my voice, 'The Lord is my Shepherd'. Both Tom and Gerard looked startled, and then joined in. By the end of the song, I brought forward the little bouquet of flowers I had purchased, and placed it reverently on the pine coffin before Tom and Gerard lowered the coffin by hand. 'You brought flowers?' Tom asked. 'Yes,' I replied. 'We need to celebrate his life'. And then Tom and Gerard started to fill in the grave by hand. There were no grave diggers for the poor unfortunate who had been destined for a pauper's burial. I stepped forward, and took a shovel and joined in. The men looked startled, as in the culture I was brought up in it is not a woman's work to shovel earth at a burial. But then they smiled, and we performed this last task of respect.
After we completed, I asked that we stand around and say a few words in honour of the departed. 'But we never knew him,' said Tom. 'God did,' I replied. So the priest stood thoughtfully, and then prayed. 'Here we stand before you, Lord. We did not meet this gentleman in his life, and do not know anything about him. But we do know one thing; as a child of your human family, he was known to you. So we commend him to you. And thank you for being a kind and benevolent God. At the last, you ensured he had family from your wider human family there to bury him; Gerard, Catherine and myself. Bless this man in your eternal Home.' And the priest went off to his car, shaking his head and muttering, 'Songs and flowers, can you believe it...' As he climbed into the car, and I climbed into the funeral van for a lift home from Gerard, I am sure I heard his last words floating on the air as he slammed the door, 'How wonderful...'
Many people especially in poorer areas do not have money for a burial, or are unknown with no family to take care of the last dignities. In the spirit of Lumiere, please consider organising a donation among your friends if a fellow friend has a passing in the family, and they are not wealthy. Or consider funding a funeral for someone who has no money, and no one to care for them in a shanty town or squatter camp. A donation to a worthy priest who is known for assisting the poor in this regard would be helpful. Each of us is a son or daughter in the human family of God; let us offer dignity to those who, due to the circumstances of their lives, have no-one else to think of them as they cross over to join God in eternity.
*Names have been changed
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