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A Service at the National Cathedral: Final Scene
By Matthew Scully
National Review, July 12, 2004

A few days before the state funeral for Ronald Reagan, some of his old aides were talking up an idea they thought would show just the right spirit: They proposed that at noon on June 11, as services began at Washington National Cathedral, the flags then at half-mast across America and the world be dramatically raised again. This would symbolize the new beginning President Reagan gave our country, and that optimism for which we should all remember him. It was a case of carrying the good cheer one step too far, though, and happily nothing came of this little inspiration. This was a day for accepting the end of things, and with full honors saying goodbye to, as the opening prayer put it, "our brother Ronald."

Settling in at the cathedral, I had a fine view of the five American presidents seated up front – our brothers Jerry, Jimmy, George, Bill, and George W. – and it was touching, throughout the service, to see them singing along with the hymns and praying for one of their own. In the spirit of the day, I found myself admiring former President Carter in particular, this good Christian man who at 79 still teaches Sunday school, and who, I suppose, was doing his works of charity long before anyone outside of Plains ever heard of him. Some pleasantries with Al Gore, by chance seated directly in front of Karl Rove, confirmed my impression of a serious man who still lives under a serious burden – although on this day, as on the day he conceded in December 2000, he carried it with a dignity that deserves our respect. You could see Bill Clinton's good side, too, in the slightly boyish, deferential air he displayed while speaking to Gerald Ford, a man born in the first year of the presidency of Woodrow Wilson – whose mortal remains rest in that very cathedral – and now in the twilight of his own good life.

The funeral itself had all the elegance, beauty, and heartbreaking moments one would expect from the combined wisdom of Mike Deaver and centuries of Anglican tradition. A congregation of 3,800 or so stood on hearing the faint sounds of "Hail to the Chief" and the Navy Hymn from outside, followed by the tapping of a shepherd's staff carried by the Right Reverend John Bryson Chane, bishop of Washington, and the prayer of reception read by the Reverend and former Senator John Danforth. In the program, the military pallbearers were described as "securing" the casket, and that word perfectly captures the firmness and control of their every step toward the altar and waiting catafalque. They moved just slightly faster than one would have expected, too – perhaps, as I took it, as a sign of being unafraid before death. High-church rituals, I confess, are usually wasted on me, but all of this was truly impressive and beautiful.

Mrs. Reagan, escorted by Major General Galen Jackman, looked as we all saw her throughout the week – graceful and brave and afraid. And watching her with Michael, Ron Jr., and Patti brought to mind that period in the 1980s when some of the children were hardly on speaking terms with their parents. At the time, it was politely assumed even among admirers that, at a certain point in his life, Ronald Reagan simply had bigger business in the world than the ordinary duties of fatherhood. Yet from Michael we heard about the father who wrote him sensitive and wise letters, and who, from the day he adopted the boy in 1945, never once called Mike his adopted son, but only his son. From Ron Jr. we heard about "the most plainly decent man you could ever hope to meet." And in a Newsweek remembrance by Patti, who showed a special sweetness this week as she tended to her mom – and who has become a lovely writer – we read of the future president who found time to help his little girl care for wounded birds in their backyard.

Whatever passed between the children and their parents, something drew them all back together, and President Reagan would have been very proud of the loyalty and love they've shown in these last few years.

It came time for eulogies, and how characteristic of former President Bush, in his brief remarks, to remember Maureen Reagan, who is "home safe now with her father." His son the president struck a wistful tone: "We know, as he always said, that America's best days are ahead of us, but with Ronald Reagan's passing some very fine days are behind us, and that is worth our tears." Brian Mulroney, the former Canadian prime minister, delivered a manful "au revoir," and Margaret Thatcher, present but for health reasons speaking on videotape, gave us this concise account of how the Cold War ended:

“He won the Cold War, not only without firing a shot, but also by inviting enemies out of their fortress and turning them into friends. . . . Yes, he did not shrink from denouncing Moscow's "evil empire." But he realized that a man of goodwill might nevertheless emerge from within its dark corridors. So the president resisted Soviet expansion and pressed down on Soviet weakness at every point until the day came when Communism began to collapse beneath the combined weight of these pressures and its own failures. And when a man of goodwill did emerge from the ruins, President Reagan stepped forward to shake his hand and to offer sincere cooperation. Nothing was more typical of Ronald Reagan than that large-hearted magnanimity — and nothing was more American.”

As we listened to Thatcher's stirring tribute, you could look across the aisle and see her seated next to Mikhail Gorbachev, who if he looked around could see within a few pews Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder of a united and democratic Germany, former Polish president Lech Walesa, former Czech president Vaclav Havel, and former Soviet prisoner Natan Sharansky. I'm still not sure that he quite understands how it all ended for him – Gorbachev told the Washington Post that it's "not serious" to suggest that Ronald Reagan won the Cold War, and that really "we" won, all of us, when the Cold War ended. But no need to press the point: When you have the seventh and last chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR and general secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist party sitting in a Christian cathedral in America paying tribute to Ronald Reagan, and undoubtedly meaning it, no further explanation is required.

The "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Amazing Grace" signaled the end of the remembrances and the approach of the final farewell and commendation. One always dreads that part of funerals, because that is the whole point of funerals, but here, at least, all knew that we were seeing off a man who had lived not only a long life but a complete life, a gracious and gallant soul who himself never seemed to have much trouble with farewells.

I remember seeing him leave the White House for the very last time, in January 1993, after receiving the Medal of Freedom from his successor. He stopped at the car waiting on the South Lawn driveway, turned around, and for a moment or two gazed up at the mansion. A White House photographer standing nearby said to him, "One last look, Mr. President?" He gave one of those little tilts of the head and answered, "One last look," and with that turned back and went his way.

There was likewise no lingering in the departure ceremony at the cathedral, but only a confident going forth. We heard muffled drums from the Marine Orchestra, then a riveting hymn, "The Mansions of the Lord," as the pallbearers reappeared to collect the body for burial that night in California. And then off he went, as soon as Reverend Danforth had spoken the words: "Into thy hands, O merciful savior, we commend thy servant Ronald. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech thee, a sheep of thine own fold, a lamb of thine own flock, a sinner of thine own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of thy mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light."

Mr. Scully is a speechwriter for President Bush and the author of Dominion: The Power of Man, the Suffering of Animals, and the Call to Mercy.