Not being Catholic...

I attended a Mexican Catholic Funeral a couple days ago. The man who died, Manuel, was simply one of the nicest, most genuine people I've met, though I did not know him well. He had lived in the little town of G_____ all of his life and had worked at T_____ for 30 of his 48 years. His death was sudden.

Not being Catholic, I didn't have much frame of reference for how the services would go, except that there would be a lot of standing, sitting, kneeling, some singing. Not understanding much Spanish, I only knew when they were saying God, Jesus, life, death, love, brother, etc. I did figure out when they were saying the lord's prayer. One might think that the services were lost on me, but they certainly weren't. I didn't know when to say certain things, or stand, but I don't often feel such a part of things. When his wife got up to say a few words, she read her speech in Spanish. It was not long, but I understood enough to get the idea. She broke down near the end, recovered, and finished. Then she read the same speech in English. She broke down in the same spot. I kept thinking what a strong woman she is. Amazing strength.

That was the first time I have willingly attended a church service in many years and one at which I felt no pressure to believe, no pressure to convert, just genuine love and collective sadness. The church was standing room only. Only when I was headed to the graveside with a couple people, who I have worked with for several years and had previously worked with Manuel for many more, did I feel that usual "Christian pressuring." The two of them are not Catholic, but come from that branch of Christianity (fundamentalism) that breeds comments like, "did you know so-and-so goes to First Christian?" the reply being, "no, that's too bad, I've been trying to get him to attend The New Church now for a couple years." Just one of the reasons I reject religion.

The graveside portion of the service saw the crowd almost double. One friend commented that if you went to lunch with Manuel and saw 20 people, he would stop to say hi to 20 people, because everyone knew him. There were jokes that he was the unofficial mayor of G____. After the graveside ceremony, there was a huge reception, a BBQ, held by his employer. The room for seating was filled to capacity and the line to come in was steady when I left to make room for others. There was a photo we had taken of him during shooting for an ad campaign. We had it blown up and framed for his wife the day after he died. She said that we had unknowingly given her a beautiful copy of the photo of him that she loved best. I am so glad that we were able to do that for her. He will be missed.