My father was extremely nervous about his first funeral service as a Navy chaplain, but the undertaker assured him that he would prompt him. All went well until, at the close, the undertaker whispered to him to instruct the family to come up and view the body.

“Will the family now come forward and pass around the bier,” said my father.

He cringed inwardly when he heard his own words. Later, as my father was leaving, he overheard two of the cemetery workers talking. “I didn’t get any beer,” one said. “Did you?”

“You heard the chaplain,” the other replied. “It was just for the family.”