JANUARY 9, 2025 – I hadn’t intended to tune into Jimmy Carter’s funeral this morning—televised from end-to-end—at the National Cathedral. After all, I had important things to do (skiing) and important places to go (up and down “St. Moritz” in “Little Switzerland,” the regional park a mile from our house) . . . once I’d finished, of course, reading the online news headlines and sipping my daily dose of caffeine. From the room where I was reading and sipping, however, I could hear the television. “Don’t you want to see this?” my wife called out. A few minutes before, I’d passed through the living room where she was watching the arrival of Carter’s flag-draped coffin at the steps to the cathedral.
Less out of respect for the former president and more to demonstrate that my hearing is still partially intact, I shifted gears and meandered into the living room. I hadn’t intended anything more than a touch-and-go in front of the television screen. What happened, however, is that upon touching the rug, I decided to land. I sat down and wound up watching the entire service. In retrospect, I wouldn’t have—and certainly shouldn’t have—missed a moment of it. If you didn’t have the chance or inclination to see it, I highly recommend that you “attend” via an online video of the full event.
In the first place I was reminded of the positive aspects of religious ritual—in this case, the version provided by an Episcopal institution, thus not at the goofball end of the religious spectrum—and the military honor guards, with their ramrod spines, tucked-in chins, smart uniforms, white gloves and fancy hand and footwork commanded by the equivalent of the coxswain in a champion eight-man rowing shell.
In this age of short attention spans, brand new jeans that show “wear” right off the rack or shelf because that’s the style,[1] and above (“below”?) all, fallen respect for decorum, civility and solemnity, it’s re-assuring to know that we can still pull off an impressive show of pomp and circumstance. The precision honor guard and the “High Church”[2] of the National Cathedral on display today dovetailed perfectly to edify even the most jaded hearts and minds. Music by the U.S. Marine Orchestra and the Armed Forces Chorus orchestra—among the best of the best classically-trained musicians in America—and soloists Phyllis Adams and Leila Bolden in a touching rendition of “Amazing Grace” and Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood in a perfectly tailored arrangement of John Lennon’s classic, “Imagine,” all contributed magnificently to the decorous occasion.
But the centerpiece of the service was the collection of extraordinary eulogies delivered by Joshua and Jason Carter, two of Jimmy’s grandsons; Stu Eizenstat, Carter’s chief advisor on domestic policy; Steven Ford, President Ford’s son; Ted Mondale, son of Vice President Mondale; President Biden, who, say all you want about his age, speech impediment(s) and so on, but when he has a good script in hand, his capacity for delivery is much better than just “passable”; and the biggest zinger of all: the homily by the Rev. Andrew Young.
Yes, the Andrew Young; the civil rights activist who was a close aide to Martin Luther King, Jr. and who later, during the Carter Administration, was the U.S. Ambassador to the UN. Called “Andy” by everyone in the Carter family, Andrew Young is 92 years old, but he still projects the natural eloquence and mental acuity he had when he was . . . young. At the funeral, he had to sit while addressing the crowd of mourners, but he spoke at length as elegantly and personably as ever and without a script or notes. Of course, public speaking has always been his forte.
Young had known Jimmy Carter—and known him well—for more than a half century. In his witness to the former president’s character, Young spoke to all of us about the character of America. Believer or non-believer, Democrat or Republican, everyone who heard him had to acknowledge that that man there speaking to us about an American of great character was himself a man of great character.
In fact, each of the eulogists before Young spoke of character as exemplified consistently, publicly and privately by the inimitable Jimmy Carter. It was no coincidence that the funeral of a former president who was among many other things, a devoted Sunday school teacher, felt like a Sunday school class[3]; not one in which attendees were sternly lectured and treated to head-thumping with a musty thumb-worn Bible, but a Sunday school class taught jointly by enlightened members of the church; the eminently trustworthy dads and grandpas[4] of the congregation; a Sunday school class in which we in attendance experienced such hope, love, grace, and charm, we didn’t want the bell to ring.
As I listened I was struck by the goodness—the character—of our 39th president, as well as of the people who attested to that goodness and character. What a gift he was to this world; what an example he lived—which will live on as we ourselves summon, then act upon, a meaningful fraction of Carter’s relentless striving to be good and to do good.
Jimmy Carter was convinced that if each of us does some good each day, together we will make the world a much better place. May his life inspire us—and generations that follow—to do just that.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
[1] As Minister of Spousal Attire, my wife had recently put down the hammer on my wearing outdated jeans. She brought home a selection of new replacements of varying “cuts” and styles. I was more interested in resolving the question, “But do they fit?” All did, whereupon I assigned them to pegs in the bedroom closet. Several days later, I pulled out one set of jeans and put them on. As I did, I noticed that the cuffs and edges of the pockets were slightly worn. Thinking that I’d inadvertently grabbed an old pair, I removed the pants. But then I noticed that a couple of the tags were still attached to the waist. No, this was a new pair. It then dawned on me that the “wear” was “factory wear,” worked into the denim intentionally. This is why my wife doesn’t trust me with my own decisions regarding “style.”
[2] With emphasis on ritual (including my personal favorite, the burning of incense), in contrast to the “Low Church” of the Episcopal denomination, which focuses on Scripture.
[3] A high school acquaintance of my wife tells the story of attending (via a standing open invitation) one of Jimmy Carter’s Sunday school sessions in Plains, Georgia. The acquaintance had spent her life as a missionary abroad, and when Carter learned this, he invited her to say the opening prayer. “Oh, God!” she said, surprised and just a tad nervous. –“Is that your prayer?” Jimmy said, his sense of humor always at the ready.
[4] Yes, all men, but what must not be overlooked is Carter’s remarkably enlightened presidential record with regard to women’s rights and opportunities in American society. Among other accomplishments, he appointed more women to the Federal bench (500) than had all of his 38 predecessors combined.
