the body

There's a body in the church right now. Yeah, a dead one. You wouldn't think that's unusual enough to remark on, especially if you are among those people that think of church as the place you go to name your baby, get married, and get a good send-off into the next world. But nowadays most of what we see are cremations. I suppose I should think of those little boxes of ashes as bodies too, but it's awfully hard to relate them to a formerly living person. I've had the ashes of former friends sitting on my desk. (I also have the ashes of a beloved cat on my dresser at home, come to think of it.) I've carried people's ashes in a shopping bag to the sacristy. No big deal. But when the hearse arrives, and the men in suits (the funeral director now wears grey!--perhaps that's his gesture to summer) navigate the awkward ramp and all the next of kin stand around, wondering what to do or think, you know. The men must exert themselves to carry this large wooden box. You know there is a body in there. You know someone has passed from this life and it is real. I find it much more moving and solemn tha cremation. And that (in addition to not wanting to add to global warming with more smoke) is why I want to come to rest in earth.