Report from the front

[BeccasStillSeeking]

I just got back from a funeral for my Jesus-freak coworker's daughter. This is...the first time I've been in a church since my cousin's baptism three years ago. Because my own recovery experience is ongoing (fleh), it was, well, kind of a big deal. I was very worried that I would not be able to put aside all my old baggage, all the pain and resentment, long enough to be there for my coworker. Which she didn't stop deserving just because her overt religious obsession drives me up the wall; no mother should ever have to bury her child.

 

In this case, I had additional anxiety because I expected to have to sit with an entire congregation of people just as on-fire-for-the-Lawd as she is--and expected it to be very uncomfortable. Frankly, I was worried about old feelings of pain and resentment coming up; I was afraid I'd have another goddamned public anxiety attack when the "praise the lords" got flying. I was quite worried that I'd end up messing things up for my coworker somehow by being unable to conceal my discomfort with the whole thing. But I wasn't selfish enough to let these reasons make me beg off the funeral, which was all but required (we shut the bloody office down) for every one of her coworkers. Therefore, I went prepared to be stoically supportive, and on the advise of my shrink and my sweetie both, simply brush off any attempts at evangelism with an "I'm here to support my coworker." Which I was.

 

I did it. Frankly, I don't know how I managed save that I must have grown quite a bit since the last time I steeled myself to sit through a Mass of any sort. I was very, very fortunate in that I was able to surround myself with coworkers who were not members of this particular church, and didn't end up talking at all with the congregants. I was unfortunate, however, in that the evangelism was indeed quite rampant, and I had to sit quietly through it without letting my conflicted feelings show on my face. (I'm a heart-on-my-sleeve sort in the extreme, hence my concern). If these people want to take comfort in Jesus in their hour of need, that's their right, and I really didn't want to risk messing with that. I just...couldn't endure being put in a situation where I might have to lie about spiritual things to get out of a confrontation. I was literally desperate to avoid anyone asking me the question, "Have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior?"

 

Because once someone asks me that, there's no way for me to say anything that won't lead to a confrontation without either lying, or preparing a broken-record phrase like the one my shrink and I had come up with above. In fact, I usually have to extricate myself from the situation as quickly as possible, because in the past it has indeed led to anxiety attacks. Which would have not only disrupted the funeral, but...massive public humiliation, anyone? Not to mention the prospect of being surrounded by REALLY ANGRY Jesus freaks and a bunch of embarrassed coworkers--without an escape handy. O.o

 

So anyway, I did okay for the first two-thirds of the service, aside from being a sniffly wad of sympathy for her family (The daughter was only 45, for pity's sake, and she was the one without all the horrible chronic health problems!). I did a lot of deep breathing through the sermon, trying not to let the various Bible quotes touch off embittered inner monologues. I had no right to say anything to lessen their ability to take comfort in their beliefs, even if I myself marvel in their ability to delude themselves. Whatever fucking works for them, in whatever quantity they need, even if it's the same fiction that shattered my heart to pieces with disappointment when I was younger. Whatever gets them through, I swore--I wouldn't mess with it if it was at all possible.

 

But then one of the close relatives came up to the podium, and started testifying. First about her and how great she was, and how devoted and compassionate--go him. But then...I was braced for it, but when he started testifying about the "miracle" that happened at her death (she blinked), and going on and on and on about how Jesus was the only reason he and his family were getting through this (they are barely squeaking by even with tons of support from HUMAN BEINGS, and my coworker's as nonfunctional as can be expected)...I had to fight a wince. His going on how God and Jesus were there for the family, how they were speaking to the family, trying to reassure them that their daughter was better off now. I had to do meditative breathing, distract myself, and be glad I had remembered my antianxiety meds that morning. Something in me wanted to scream about how they were fooling themselves, and how their belief in God's being there for them would only lead to bitter disappointment later, as it had for me. But I forced it down, forced the grimaces down, the shaking down, the tear-and-panic-inspiring memories down. I was good. I managed to be both ethical and compassionate in the face of what for me is a big, fat, ugly anxiety-attack trigger. I even managed to keep my face neutral when the overt "come to Jesus like our sister here did" speech from the pastor started. It was from the pulpit, not in my face; I wasn't being called out in person. I breathed through it, and was okay. Kind of annoyed, deep down, but okay.

 

Yes, we're all going to die, and yes, nobody really knows what happens when that happens. But being handed Pascal's Wager about "welcoming Jesus into my life" for the umpteenth time when I was trying to focus on being respectful and figuring out what to say to my coworker at the end of the service...why? Shouldn't the focus of a funeral be on the deceased and her family, instead of on selling Jesus to the twenty-odd noncongregants who have come to support the family in their grief--most of whom were Christian anyway, if anyone had bothered to ask?

 

"Gee, someone must have told them we were coming," my Jewish coworker snarked quietly as we walked out to our cars for the procession. He and I very likely comprised the only non-Christians in the group, and I fear we were both on our guard after that sermon.

 

But as I said, I was lucky. I did not get approached. Unfortunately, I still didn't get through the procession or the interment with my blood pressure unscathed. As I mentioned, I deliberately surrounded myself with the chattiest coworkers I had, and kept on the move. Some of the congregants, as I had suspected, were taking the opportunity to evangelize at those of us who didn't go to their church. I didn't relish being caught by them. And I got out all right--but my coworker didn't.

 

He's a very mellow, droll-witted man in his fifties whose gentle but pointed humor has gotten me through many a workday. He is very nearly unflappable. I have to admit that when the pastor's assistant zoomed in on him with that vapid, "I'm one of God's lambs and mean only the best for you!" evangelist's smiles on his face, I got considerably more worried than he looked.

 

Is there a book somewhere where evangelists memorize their pat Jesus-selling lines? If so, could we find it and burn it? My wince at this guy's delivery made one of my other coworkers ask if I was feeling okay.

 

The approached coworker smiled politely, and said in a completely even tone, "Actually, I'm Jewish. I'm just here to support the family."

 

I froze. I swear sometimes that my past trauma (and the crap I see 95% of the evangelists on here spew) has left me automatically assuming the worst from any hardline Christian I come across. In this case, I expected an antisemitic diatribe loud enough to wake the poor daughter up in her grave. Instead, the man blinked, looked uncomfortable, glanced around, and then said "oh" and excused himself.

 

The tranquil mind conquers all adversity, it seems. I completely worship at this guy's feet right now.

 

My problem is, my mind's not tranquil when it comes to Christianity. Anything but. In my coworker's shoes I likely would have mumbled "I'm just here for the funeral" and maybe "Please leave me alone" while looking at my feet and trying very hard not to start shaking.

 

Nevertheless, today's performance proves that I'm at least less freaked by bloody evangelists than I used to be. Maybe one day I'll be calm and centered enough to just brush them off like he did. I hope so.

 

As for the lady who lost her daughter...we've got no common ground spiritually, so I had no idea what to say to her at all. But there, I realized when the time came, I didn't really have a problem. Hugs always work.

 

I just wish that calm politeness and simple compassion would win the day more often in situations like this.

[pandora]

I can understand how you feel. Although I don't get panic attacks, I am still uncomfortable at funerals.

 

A police officer at my liberal university was killed last year, and the preacher did an alter call at the university sponsered service. That sparked quite a riot... LOL

 

My cousin died not too long ago and the pastor there didn't do an alter call, but went on and on how if we know Jesus, death shouldn't make us sad.

 

Blah blah...

 

I am glad you got through it ok. At least you had one friend there.

[All Gods Fail]

Hey Becca -

 

Strength takes time to build up. You were actually stronger than you thought, and as time passes you'll get stronger still. Your only 'weakness' was empathy for the poor woman who had lost her child - and that's not weakness, that's just human kindness.

 

By contrast, the xtians all seemed to think it was a great thing - what an opportunity to troll for suckers! An altar call at a child's funeral is pretty pathetic, IMO.

[BeccasStillSeeking]

I can understand how you feel.  Although I don't get panic attacks, I am still uncomfortable at funerals.

 

A police officer at my liberal university was killed last year, and the preacher did an alter call at the university sponsered service.  That sparked quite a riot... LOL

 

My cousin died not too long ago and the pastor there didn't do an alter call, but went on and on how if we know Jesus, death shouldn't make us sad.

 

Blah blah...

 

I am glad you got through it ok.  At least you had one friend there.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

The idea of doing an altar call at a funeral disgusts me. By their very nature, funerals are going to involve people who aren't members of the church. Those who make altar calls, or go around evangelizing at someone's funeral, are basically taking advantage of a person's death in an attempt to win souls. That's just...incredibly crass.

[BeccasStillSeeking]

Becca, you are a VERY strong woman.  I can understand how uncomfortable that would be.  You proved yourself well in this situation and handled superbly.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

Thanks. I suppose that being bound by my own ethics helped. I simply am not the sort to go rubbing salt in anyone's wounds...and this poor woman is just destroyed. Still...I really feel lucky that I was not confronted directly!

[BeccasStillSeeking]

Hey Becca -

 

Strength takes time to build up. You were actually stronger than you thought, and as time passes you'll get stronger still. Your only 'weakness' was empathy for the poor woman who had lost her child -  and that's not weakness, that's just human kindness.

 

By contrast, the xtians all seemed to think it was a great thing - what an opportunity to troll for suckers! An altar call at a child's funeral is pretty pathetic, IMO.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

Well, she was forty-five, but it was a funeral, and one of those funerals that, like a kid's death, just shouldn't be happening. I just--why don't they see how disrespectful it is to take the attention off the person who just died in order to try and hook more converts?

[godlessgrrl]

Way to go, Becca. Glad you were able to be there for your coworker, and glad you were able to hold it together. I totally hear you about being tense and wary at funerals and stuff... I've gotten to a place where I'm sort of amused by it. But I'm also kind of lucky; I don't really live in a region where aggressive evangelism is a Thing to Do.

 

Good on ya, tho'. Keep it up.

[Bongo]

Becca,

 

Glad you made it out of there ok.

 

I did a lot of deep breathing through the sermon, trying not to let the various Bible quotes touch off embittered inner monologues

 

Yeah I hate embittered inner monologues too. At least now I know what to call them!

 

I can barely keep myself together at funerals, even if I dont know the person. But someone's daughter, that's really hard to not lose it.

 

(In case anyone finds it helpful, a technique I've used to survive emotional things like a funeral, where you dont want to cry all over yourself, is to just pretend it's all fake, a play, and everyone, including yourself, is an actor. You may not be giving the situation the respect that it deserves, but if it keeps you from bawling, ya just gotta do that sometime.)

 

bongo