My grandmothers funeral was the scene for a jaw dropping rant from her priest. She was a churchgoer, but she was more interested in the social aspect rather than the spiritual. She liked to be on flower arranging committees and teach Sunday school and have afternoon teas with the ladies of the church.
It should have been a big hint when he arrived (unannounced) at the hospital and marched into her room insisting that she would want to see him more than her family while his wife stood up for him rather snippily when several family members protested because 'he's the reverend'. In regards to the funeral he 'decided' that the eldest brother, my uncle, would speak on behalf of the family - a stipulation that was neatly gotten around when the eldest brother made a short eulogy and then invited my father to join him at the lectern. He also 'decided' that music was to be provided by his snippy wife on a Hammond organ and that his eulogy would be followed by a short reading from the junior priest (who at least had the good sense to appear horribly embarassed by the whole thing.)
Well he got up to make his eulogy and in fifteen minutes he mentioned ONE thing about my grandmother. He'd known her for ten years and apparently the only thing he could think of to say about her was that she made nice sandwiches. The rest of the time was a browbeating sermon about the lyrics of Amazing Grace and how they were a 'wonderful promise from God'. He finished up by refusing to tell people that there was going to be a wake at my parents house and conducting us all out of the church accompanied by screeching from a very much abused Hammond organ.
The most humorous thing about it was that he was a rather short man, so in order to see over the lectern he literally stood
(still would have been funnier if I'd kicked him off it though)