The voice welling up out of this little man is terrific, Harry had noticed it at the house, but here, in the nearly empty church, echoing off the walnut knobs and memorial plaques and high arched rafters, beneath the tall central window of Jesus taking off into the sky with a pack of pastel apostles for a launching pad, the timbre is doubled, richer, with a rounded sorrowful something Rabbit hadn't noticed hitherto, gathering and pressing the straggle of guests into a congregation, subduing any fear that this ceremony might be a farce. Laugh at ministers all you want, they have the words we need to hear, the ones the dead have spoken.
In the nearly empty church, a man's voice surprises Harry with its rich, resonant quality. Although he had noticed it before at the house, the unique tone fills the space, amplified by the church’s architecture and the ambiance. The voice carries a deep, sorrowful essence that captivates those present, binding them together in shared emotion. This creates a powerful atmosphere, pushing aside any doubts about the significance of the ceremony.
Despite common mockery of ministers, the narrator highlights their crucial role in delivering the words that connect the living with the deceased. The minister's words resonate deeply, providing comfort and understanding in a time of loss. This reflection underlines the importance of ritual and expression in coping with grief, reminding us of the profound impact that language can have in moments of mourning.