Memento Mori

Today I attended my first Russian funeral, and the second funeral that I recall ever having attended in my life. The first was last summer, when I was serving at a parish. A woman who was Catholic had died, and though she hadn't attended Church, her family, the rest of which was protestant, called the parish to which I was assigned to arrange a funeral. As she was elderly before she died, and had no way of getting to Church, her absence was excused. In any case, I know little of funerals, as I only served the funeral Mass, and had nothing to do with the rest of the mourning process.

I thus do not know exactly what to compare the Russian funeral to, so I shall tell it as I can.

The deceased was the father of the head altar server, Alyosha (who was recently drafted into the Russian military) and the head Sunday school teacher, Sister Marina, who is a nun in the order here in Vladivostok. Thus, the funeral was significant to the parish, and all three priests were present. I left class early to arrive to serve.

The funeral began at 1pm, when the corpse was incensed at the door of the Church. It was open casket, and Russians have not developed means of preserving bodies. It is Monday, and the man died last Wednesday. After processing into the Church, the casket was closed and asperged (sprinkled with holy water). Mass went generally as usual, with different prayers, etc for the deceased, and several incensings and sprinklings throughout.

The procession at the end of Mass to the funeral vehicle followed. The vehicle was a small bus (bigger than a short-bus), converted so that it opened in the back, and seats were taken out to make room for the casket. All of us piled into the bus (except Father Sebastian, who had to catch a flight to a parish on an island to serve there for the next six weeks), and the ride to the cemetary took 30-45 minutes.

At the cemetary, the body was again incensed, sprinkled, and prayed for (open casket again). The corpse had ties around the hands and feet, which were undone before the burial, but the cloths that were tied were left in the casket. Again, the body didn't look or smell so good (to be noted as a problem during the hot bus ride) due to decomposition. But the man was placed in the grave, and everyone at the funeral came forward to throw dirt on the casket. Then, the workers buried the casket and body, and placed the tombstone in place, after which an elderly church-lady arranged the flowers.

But then it got particularly Russian. Vodka and wine was brought out on site, and everyone was given to drink. Also, everyone washed their hands, and food too was given, and expected to be eaten at the gravesite. And the rules for the post-burial events include not saying "thank you" to anyone (in any languages, smart asses)...

After liquor and food, we all headed to the convent, where the funeral dinner was held. We all ate and drank more, while specific dishes were served, customary to all funerals in Russia -- and why so, nobody really knows.

The most sobering element (no pun intended) was seeing Alyosha, the military son of the deceased, and his mother weeping at the gravesite, and being comforted by Sister Marina, the aforementioned daughter of the deceased.

I want vodka at my funeral.