How to Preach a Funeral
The first time I spoke at a funeral was in 1995. It was the funeral for my childhood friend’s father. I was a green campus minister and felt that someone else should manage the important words for this heavy occasion. My friend assured me that I was the choice that made the most sense. Since then, I have received wisdom from other ministers and followed sample funeral sermons wherever I could find them (Dr. Siburt’s voluminous packet from his Christian Ministry course was always at hand). In time, speaking at funerals became the default mode of ministry. I was the preaching minister; who else was meant to preach the funeral? Now I receive requests from individuals who are in the same spot I was in 1995. They ask me how to preach a funeral, and what they are supposed to say and do. So now that it is a more intuitive process for me, I share these three practical guidelines for preaching a funeral.
Tell what you know. Death is not really the great mystery. Take a stroll through a public cemetery and you realize that death is not an unusual occurrence. The mystery is in the details of what lies beyond death. The anxious and awkward moments in preaching a funeral swirl around the unknown parts of death. We try to predict what the deceased was thinking at the time of death. We try to describe what takes place in the throne room of heaven and what the entry into heaven must be like for the deceased (which is especially awkward when half of the mourners are convinced that the deceased went to a place other than heaven). We try to argue for or against dualistic philosophies for body and soul. None of this is your task in preaching a funeral. You have not been asked to speak to the mysteries. You have been asked to preach a funeral because you know something; so tell what you know.
If you knew the deceased, tell what you know that is most significant about that person and his/her faith, character, and hope. If you did not know him/her then do not apologize for that. No one wants to hear you say some version of “I really did not know this person,” regardless of how eloquently you put it. This is an example of telling the audience what you do not know. Rather, tell them what you know. And if it is something that they also know, chances are that it will be a comforting and reassuring truth. Telling what you know tells the truth.
When I learned this principle, it erased my anxiety over the false requirement of being comprehensive and all-encompassing in my description of the deceased. I am not a historian; I simply need to tell the truth I know about the person. It relieved me of the false burden of trying to make the family feel better. I am not a grief counselor; I just need to tell the truth about my own feelings and those that have been expressed. It relieved me of the burden to make a case for the eternal salvation of the deceased. I am not the Savior; I just need to tell the truth about Jesus Christ.
Follow the script. Each funeral is unique, and the concerns are as unique as the circumstances of the death. I often tell the family that there is no script, which means there is no liturgical order for the funeral service (at least not in my free protestant orbit). However, every eulogy or funeral sermon does have a “script”: the life story of the deceased. I prefer to think of my eulogy as a faithful adaptation of the story of that story.
As I attempt to tell what I know, I learn the script by paying attention. If there is a visitation, I make a point to attend and listen to the stories that others tell. If photos or videos are featured, I ask about the significance of the most interesting pictures. I read the obituary, but you should observe that most obituaries and death notices leave out important information such as the wedding anniversary date and the number of years the person was married. These are sometimes good prompts in asking the survivors to tell what they know. Obituaries also tend to simplify or omit details about the baptism and faith life of the deceased. There may be a mention of their church membership, but it is up to us to investigate and explore the story behind that facet of life.
When paying attention to these stories that make up the script, look for themes. Look for qualities and characteristics that you might attribute to God’s spirit at work in this person’s life. For example, I recently preached the funeral of a man who worked as a telegraph operator. There was a theme that emerged throughout his life of being a communicator. That was especially true about his passion for communicating the good news of Christ.
Share the gospel. I don’t recommend incorporating a formal altar call into your funeral sermon. But if this is not the time to share the hope that we have in Jesus Christ, then where else would it be more appropriate? In 1 Thess. 4:13-18, Paul writes about the truth that he knows. He declares that death is not the last destination for us and that we can depend on the truth of Jesus’s return and the resurrection of the dead. He closes with the instruction to “encourage one another with these words.” Surely this is a truth that we know and one that deserves to be told.
I have been asked what to say when the deceased’s relationship with Christ is unknown or debatable. This makes for a touchy subject. None of us want to be accused of turning everyone into saints during a funeral, but we can surely do more than cop out and say it is all in God’s hands. When we rely on the gospel, we discover that there is always some creative word that applies.
Many years ago, I was asked to speak at a funeral of a man I hardly knew. I hardly knew him because he was never involved in the life of my congregation when I was there. My visit with him on his deathbed was the extent of our relationship. When searching for the script, I learned that many of his closest friends in life had doubts about his relationship with Jesus. They couldn’t shake the concern that his faith was too little too late. I was drawn to the parable of the 11th hour workers in the vineyard (Matt. 20). I told what I knew about the text, the deceased, and the good news. I told what I knew about God’s fairness, mercy, and generosity. I was not trying to convince or persuade anyone. However, after the funeral, a friend who loved the deceased man came to me and said, “I feel much better about God and my friend right now. Thank you because I needed to hear that.”
