My father’s side is Church of the Nazarene, and I’ve been to a few relatives’ funerals besides his. It might vary by church, but there was no altar call, no communion service, just a simple service with some scripture, a sermon, a eulogy, and some prayers for the family. After the burial there was a very nice dinner prepared by the ladies of the church. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming and sympathetic. It was very nice.
Now a very memorable non-Catholic funeral I once attended was for my husband’s grandfather deep in the Appalachians of West Virginia. The body was viewed at home in the living room, there was an all-night wake with people taking turns sitting with the body. In the morning the casket was carried up the side of a mountain to a very old cemetary on the top, where the grave had been dug. People brought blankets to sit on, because the preacher was in full form, and preached for at least an hour, barely taking a breath–he could get more words out of one inhale than anyone I’ve ever seen! And the entire preaching was peppered by comments from the “audience”–things like “Amen, brother” and “Hallelujiah”. And there was food–people brought baskets, because they were expecting to stay the morning, which they did. It was quite a send-off.
My father-in-law got chiggers from sitting on the ground, and I had foolishly worn nylons and a pair of heels, which weren’t in too good of a shape after climbing up that mountainside, the beginning path of which was a turkey farm with the gobblers free-roaming and pecking at the ground around my feet and at my nylons. I felt sorry for the pallbearers, because they had to carry that casket the whole way up. We were all quite done in by the time it was over. I will never forget that funeral.
Years later his grandmother died, and I was expecting the same thing, but they had become somewhat citified by then, and the wake (there was still an all night wake) was in the tiny church in the hollow, and the services were there, but we still had to climb that mountainside, although the turkey farm was gone and the graveside service was short, we ate at the relatives’ houses, and nobody got the chiggers. Definitely better, but I kind of got a little nostalgic for the old way…