The Cemetery - French Style

Recently I officiated at my first funeral in France. The service was at the church, and though most of the attendees were French, the service was in English. The first real point of interest, from a cultural standpoint, had to do with the way that the casket was handled. First of all, the man who had died, so I am told, was a rather large person. His casket was made from solid oak, so it must have been extremely heavy. They do not use pall bearers like we do in the U.S. Instead, four (not six) men from the funeral home lifted the casket from the hearse, shifted it to their shoulders, and proceeded to carry it all the way to the front of the sanctuary, a pretty sizable distance. Then, it was set on a portable stand that was made for that purpose. The family and other people were already seated when the casket, in a very solemn and slow way, was moved up the long aisle of the sanctuary to the front of the church. I walked in front of the casket. There was no open casket. At the end of the service, the casket was carried out in the same manner. The people followed me and the casket out to the front of the church to the waiting hearse.


We proceeded to drive to the cemetery. We had to drive in to the cemetery, for it is quite large. We arrived at a parking spot, got out of our vehicles, and I waited for instructions. The casket was placed on a stand, and I was told that I should offer a prayer before the casket was moved to the gravesite. I did so. The funeral director then invited anyone else who would like to do so to come up to the casket and offer a prayer. Several persons did this.

Then, it seemed that out of nowhere, 4 young and strong looking young men, each with dress slacks and white shirt and tie came to get the casket. They proceeded to pick up the casket, shift it to their shoulders (with no padding!) and walk slowly the 100 or so yards to the gravesite. We all followed behind. When we arrived at the grave, I saw another cultural difference from the U.S. The dirt from the grave was piled on the sides of the grave – and there was no fake green grass to hide it! I have been told that this is customary, not only in France but in other European countries as well.


The family and friends gathered at the foot end of the grave and watched while the four men lowered the casket into the grave using two heavy ropes. I was then invited by the funeral director to offer a few words and another prayer. Afterwards, everyone walked by the open grave and paused; then, they walked on by and were led by the funeral director to a spot with some shade from a tree. The four men then proceeded to work rather quickly with shovels to fill in the grave. I was expected to stay near the grave.

The grave was filled in about 15 minutes, and the dirt was shaped into a mound. Flowers taken from the church were placed on the grave; then, the family and friends returned and gathered around the grave. Gradually each person moved close to the grave and offered a silent prayer. Some gave the sign of the cross. Others bowed their heads. Afterwards, in ones and twos, the people returned to the cars. I stayed at the gravesite until everyone had left.


It was apparent to me that the practice here is to allow the reality of the death to remain rather than to try to cover it up or even make it a beautiful scene. I was touched by the dramatic simplicity of the whole event: the carrying of the casket, the plain presentation of the dirt from the grave, the sharing of words from scripture and a prayer, all of us watching as the grave was filled in, and, finally, the closing goodbyes by each person before they departed. It all felt quite sacred.