WICHITA, Kan. — George R. Tiller, the Wichita physician who was shot dead in his church last week, was remembered at his funeral Saturday as a man of courage who showed uncommon grace in the face of constant challenge to his medical practice, which included late-term abortions.
“He is in a much better place now, a safe place, a place where he is free,” said Dr. Tiller’s son, Maury, who did not need to remind anyone at the service that his father rarely went in public without a bullet-proof vest.
Dr. Tiller’s death leaves in doubt the future of Wichita’s only remaining abortion clinic. It also leaves even fewer options for women around the country who are seeking late-term abortions. But for the most part, Dr. Tiller’s funeral focused less on his work than on his life with his family and friends.
The word abortion was never uttered, nor were there any recriminations against the anti-abortion groups who for nearly two decades had tried in vain to put him out of business through relentless protests and an array of legal actions.
Instead, the mourners sang “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” and read the prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi. Dr. Tiller was recalled as a man who loved Elvis, Johnny Cash and the University of Kansas, who had a weakness for James Bond and bad jokes, who gave 25 years of service to Alcoholics Anonymous, who was called “Tuna” by his fraternity brothers because he was such a good swimmer, and “buddy” by Jeanne Tiller, his wife of almost 45 years, because they were best friends.
“Dear God, get heaven ready, because Mr. Enthusiasm is coming,” Larry Borcherding, a friend of nearly 50 years, said to laughter. “Heaven will never be the same.”
Dr. Tiller’s oldest daughter, Jennifer, told of how she and her family and her parents had spent the week before the shooting at Disney World. She described her father, in sandals and white ankle socks, wearing far too much sunblock, spending the final days of his life at play. “He was just a normal guy,” she said.
Security at the service was tight, with dozens of uniformed and plainclothes officers mingling inside and outside College Hill United Methodist Church.
Hundreds of mourners streamed into the church, quickly filling the main sanctuary, which seats about 800. Hundreds more, including women who had once been Dr. Tiller’s patients, packed an overflow room, with dozens more crowded in the church hallways.
Most carried white carnations and wore a button that read, “Attitude is everything.” The button held special significance. Dr. Tiller, a lover of axioms, had worn a similar button for more than 25 years.
At the front of the sanctuary, beside a framed photograph of Dr. Tiller, was a large wreath that framed a simple sign, “Trust Women.” The family also announced the establishment of the George R. Tiller Memorial Fund for the Advancement of Women’s Health.
On the sidewalk outside, several dozen women, including the civil rights lawyer Gloria Allred, lined up in what they called a “Martyr Guard” to protect Dr. Tiller’s family from being exposed to any protesters.
Yet while the death of Dr. Tiller, who was 67, brought a quick condemnation from the White House, prominent Kansas politicians were hard to spot at the funeral.
Representatives of the major anti-abortion groups in Wichita were nowhere to be seen either, although a dozen or so abortion opponents gathered in a holding area a few blocks from the church.
One protest sign read “God Sent the Shooter,” an apparent reference to Scott P. Roeder, the anti-abortion campaigner who has been charged with first-degree murder in Dr. Tiller’s death.
Inside the church, near the end of the service, Mrs. Tiller rose and from the altar sang “The Lord’s Prayer” in a clear, strong, unwavering voice.
She dedicated it to “my best buddy and the love of my life.”
