I recently had the pleasure of visiting the museum at the Funeral Service Institute of Vienna, a government-run establishment responsible for the majority of Vienna’s undertaking. You might think “pleasure” is an odd word to describe visiting such a place, but the experience was unexpectedly uplifting, and far less creepy than I’d feared (though there were moments).
As I wandered through the coffins and black paraphernalia on a private tour with just my Austrian guide and another Austrian companion, they began recounting stories, as did I, on our views on life and death.
Just think; depending upon your upbringing, you might believe that death is the end of everything, that death is the beginning of everything, or that it’s a relief, even an honor. Surely our thoughts about death inform our philosophies.
The Austrian view of death fascinated me. While their views about the afterlife are much the same as ours in the United States (probably due to similar religious influences), their feelings about death are different.
Death is one of the main subjects of Austrian drinking songs.
Death is viewed as a shadow, almost a being, who is always with you — at least that’s how the songs go. “Death goes with you to the wine tavern and follows you home at night; it’s your best friend,” said my guide. This is meant to be a reassuring thing. One of the first artifacts we saw at the museum was an ornate iron work featuring the Grim Reaper, a famous shadow being of whom you may have heard. “The Grim Reaper cuts the grain if it is time to cut,” he explained.
Continuing the tour, I learned that there used to be seven levels of funerals in Austria, each more elaborate, with more ceremony and more light, which was expensive, than the last. Unlike in some cultures where certain things are only available to those born in the right families, all the funerals were available to everyone — provided that they had the cash.
And so, Austrian people would save their whole lives for their funerals. Farmers would buy nice wood coffins for themselves when they had the money, have them painted and decorated to match their home (pictured), and then keep them in their houses as bookshelves or closets until they needed them. My companion said her grandmother had a huge stash of bills hidden in the closet which no one knew about until she died — it was to ensure she could have a proper sendoff.
Today, lighting is not so expensive, and though there are many variations of funerals and money can buy you anything you want (just ask Falco, whose tombstone is reportedly adorned with an image of him as Batman morphing into an angel), a distinct system of levels is no longer in place. Still, Austrians take great pride in the art of the funeral. “They want to say, look at my life, look at what I did, and look at the party I gave for you. They want to be remembered,” said my companion.
Therefore, enjoying yourself at a funeral is the proper way to behave; they are all-out parties. You are supposed to have a good time, and even if you’re sad, try to be cheery, as it’s the proper way to end a life.
“Death is not the enemy,” said my guide, as he showed us funeral toys — yes toys — dating back to the early 20th century that children would play with to prepare themselves to attend one publicly. “A funeral is like a wedding, or any other rite of passage.”
It seems to me that I had forgotten the origin of some of these things; I thought the Grim Reaper was a villain. I thought funerals were for mourning. I thought people who said “Let us not be sad, but try to celebrate the life of so-and-so” deserved to be slapped.
Maybe it’s where the money comes from. I’d be more likely to try and enjoy myself at a funeral party if I knew that the deceased had saved their whole life to throw it. And perhaps the act of saving for one’s funeral is a healthy thing — after all, it’s one of the few certain events of our lives.
One other thing’s clear: I don’t want any shadow beings following me home from the bar.
Full Disclosure: Annie Scott’s trip to Austria was sponsored by Cool Capitals and the Vienna Tourist Board.
Photos by Annie Scott.
