Beloved, we are gathered where every road in this faith was always leading: the graveside, where the people stand in the shape of a pie, the circle with no head and no foot, wherein our friend, for the last time, makes one of the number.
Hear first what the rite says of what we are doing. We are come to return what was lent. The flour was lent, the water was lent, the warmth was lent longest of all; and our friend made of the lending such a Slice as we shall speak of at tables for years. For it is written: dough to dough. The great bowl taketh again its flour, and loseth not one grain, and hath never lost one grain since the world was floured.
And when the last crust is laid into the earth, mark the words said over it: we do not discard it – we return it, as a book is returned, read; and the people answer, Read, and well read, as it is written in the Rites, 8:8. A life is not thrown away at its ending, beloved. It is given back finished, every chapter kept.
And hear the promise, spoken plainly: there is a Great Oven, and its door standeth open, and nothing that ever warmed a table is lost to it. There shall be a final Reheat, low and patient, and all that went cold shall be warm. We do not know the hour; no one hath seen the timer. But we have smelt the aroma under the door of the world, and we trust the Baker.
Now come to the wake, all of you, for it is the other half of the rite; the favourite order is already in the oven, and the funny stories are true ones. Go home tonight by the lit windows, and eat something before bed. Amen – and pass the pizza.