Beginning, End, and Everything Between
Everyone should watch the aurora borealis whilst riding a motorcycle at 130km/h in the middle of the night, at least once.
This week I attended both a funeral and a wedding. A bizarre combination, in a way, and yet given the pentecostal cheer at the funeral, maybe not so bizarre after all.
Funerals are, in a sense, just like weddings. A wedding is, in an even more peculiar way, soemthing like a funeral. One part of life ends, another part begins. The world changes... your surroundings change... dying seems to me a bit like moving to a new house with a long-awaited spouse; marriage seems a bit like leaving the old life behind and taking up something new.
Then again, I've never been married.
Never been dead, either.
If I keep riding my motorcycle in the middle of the night coming home from wedding receptions, though, one or the other is bound to come a bit sooner than otherwise.
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3 comments:
I like this one. It is quite ironic how similar a wedding and a funeral are. Only difference is that at a wedding you tend to get drunker than a skunk, and at a funeral, you tend to stay pretty sober... unless you like to drink at funerals??? (who does that??)
...unless you're baptist/pentecostal, in which case you'll be laughing and making merry at the after-funeral luncheon, and standing around looking serious while everyone else is dancing at the wedding reception.
(Okay, it's not really that bad, but sometimes it's close...)
Hey! Lutherans drink at *everything*. Unless, of course, you happen to be one of them there fundamentalist Lutherans who never have any fun--because if it's fun, it has to be sinful.
I want my estate to throw a great boozy party after I shuffle off this mortal coil--and pay for taxi's home for all of my totally hammered friends.
Seriously, though, have you noticed that the music at weddings and funerals is very similar? There are good theological reasons why this is so. And there are bad jokes just waiting to hatch.
Maybe I should just stay anonymous on this one.....
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