I've always found Christian funerals to be reflective of John the Baptist's statement regarding the superiority of Jesus to himself--"I must decrease and He must increase" or some such twaddle.  Christians routinely interpret this as a call to sublimate their own desires for the needs of the faith.  I suppose that when you're at room temperature, there really isn't enough of you left to fight against that noble impulse, and the preacher runs with it, giving the dead some kind words, but spending the majority of his time talking about new, perfect bodies and the happiness on the other side of this veil of tears.

 My grandfather's funeral was actually a keystone moment in my own development as an aggressive atheist--he was a religious man to be sure, but the insistence that the gathered family sing "Jesus loves me" was over the line.  A bit of doggerel written for three year olds stands in stark juxtaposition with a man who killed hundreds of other humans with the aid of Howitzers and windage calculation books.  That's not to say that he was nothing more than a soldier, but his religion definitely never gave him cause to regret his actions.  I don't regret them either, but one would think Gentle Jesus would.