THE BURNISHED OBIT [R, 6-4-20]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

THE BURNISHED OBIT  [R, 6-4-20]

Our pastor, Jimmy Moore, recently told this story in a sermon. Guiseppi Verdi, the great composer, hated the organ grinders who, along with their monkeys, cluttered the streets of Milan with their raucous sounds and coarse ways. They were dirty and rude, and their monkeys were even worse. It is said that when he died, they found 300 street organs in his basement, units he had bought just to get them off the streets.

One day he was passing a particularly dirty pair--grinder and monkey--and the grinder was especially languorous. Verdi couldn’t stand it. “Tempo, man, tempo,” he cried as he passed.

The next day he saw that pair again. They were bathed, and the grinder was wearing a tuxedo. Beside his donation box was a sign that read, “Master Musician. Studied Under Verdi.”

I once pointed out to our grandchildren that we lie for two reasons. Half our lies are to keep out of trouble. Half are to make us look better than we are. As we “mature,” there are other reasons, like trying to take advantage of others for our own ends, but for a discussion with kids, that was good enough. Certainly, we continue to lie for those two reasons throughout our lives. Sometimes right up to the end.

We saw the obit for a long-time friend. It was clear she had written it herself, for we recognized her style, and it included minutiae that not many others would know. Minutiae that made her look as good as possible. Irrelevant minutiae, burnished to a false shine. It was sad.

She was a highly intelligent and accomplished woman. If she had just stuck to the facts, instead of burnishing them on every side, it would have been so much better. She wanted so much to be remembered as better than she was. She wanted to justify her faults and minimize her failures. To those who knew her best, the ones who really cared about her, all she did was call attention to them, reminding us of her faults and failures. If she had let us remember without the burnishing, we would have remembered her virtues and successes. She would have looked so much better.

If I look better in my obit than you remember me being, rest assured I did not write it. The one I’m writing starts, “After a lot of kicks and misses, he finally connected with the bucket…”

John Robert McFarland

“Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”