Opinion

Whether it is the juxtaposing of the seriousness of the event against a comedic situation, or our natural anxiety about being at a funeral that places us on the verge of chaos, funerals are perfectly placed to bring out the worst in us, writes Howard Feldman. I recall with such fondness a funeral that I attended some years ago when the Rabbi who was officiating at the grave site, lost his trousers when his suspenders that were holding them up, and that had been under increasing strain, finally gave up the ghost. The Rabbi, since passed, who was a man of great character and robust confidence, hardly missed a beat. On noticing that his pants were around his ankles and not around his waist, swooped down gathered them up unto himself without any disturbance to his meaningful eulogy. Another funeral had me at odds with my brother-in-law. In retrospect it was fairly comical, but I was only able to appreciate the full magnificence of the situation after the event. It was a particularly windy and rainy day when we stood at the graveside to bury the deceased. Whilst we intoned the prayer, looking appropriately sombre, a gust of wind and…