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The Preacher’s Corner By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter In some situations, rules don’t quite work Some
of you have been to the Fontaine House in Memphis’ Victorian Village
and perhaps saw the interesting exhibit on funeral and mourning customs
in the Old South. The Victorian era had an etiquette for dying with as
many strictures as that many-ruled culture had for living. Remember how
scandalized all Atlanta was when Scarlett O’Hara danced with Rhett
Butler at a Confederate ball before her prescribed time of mourning for
her dead husband was over? Every minister is
confronted by situations where the rules don’t quite work, which are
humorous in spite of their seriousness. The Revs. Will Berger and Sally
Hughes, pastor-friends in Tennessee, recently told me of such an
occasion. It seems that a widely loved hunter
died suddenly, and his widow immediately called Will and Sally to come
and be with the family. They went right away and took seats with the
gathering group of friends in the gentleman’s den, which was full of
his hunting paraphernalia and trophies including a special telephone in
the shape of a duck. The receiver hung from the mallard’s outstretched
wing. My friends spoke a few words of
consolation, and were leading the group in prayer when suddenly the
mallard began to quack! The widow picked up the receiver, quietly
received the message and hung up so that the petition to the Almighty
could be concluded. For the rest of the
afternoon, acquaintances came by and wept, arrangements were made with
the funeral home, shock and sadness came in waves, and the quacking
duck continued to announce the telephoned condolences of friends and
relatives. The incongruity seemed not to bother the family at all,
since they were so used to their duck phone, but my friends were so
startled by the whole scene that they could barely suppress laughter,
especially when Will would catch Sally’s all-knowing eye. Finally
Will suggested to a granddaughter that she find another extension phone
which could be brought into the den and hooked up, “so it wouldn’t ring
so loud.” Every minister knows a tale where a
hapless preacher stood too close and slipped into the grave during a
funeral. The particular version of the story I know (and which I know
on good authority to be true) involved a particularly straitlaced
beady-eyed Presbyterian minister at Hazlehurst, later a professor of
worship at a Carolina divinity school. The
pretentious cleric, resplendent in flowing white robes, went down
almost before anyone could gasp — the universal memory being those
piercing, beady eyes wide and slipping into the abyss. The
best part was that everybody said the deceased would have hugely
enjoyed the event! The pretentious preacher long ago went to his
reward, but I think of him every time I officiate in the cemetery. People
will also remember that North Carolina quacking duck phone for years
and give thanks for a very good friend who loved his sport and his
family. They may also be grateful for the presence of their ministers
who went to a family in grief and watched over their gathering and who
cared for their people in a time of great need.
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