RCC funeral in a little Polish town

This time I have so much to say that I don't know where to begin. Had I not been saved by the Grace of God, I wouldn't have reacted so strongly, but since I am a Christian, there are many issues that bothered me deeply, and were idolatrous and blasphemous in the eyes of God.
Now, I cannot say with certainty that some rituals are approved officially by the RCC, but they take place in the funeral chapel, and no priest objects to them.
I had to endure 2 long hours of rosary prayers, one on Monday, the other one on Tuesday, right before the funeral mass. If you don't know what rosary prayers are, you are a happy person. If you know what they are, you know my pain. It was one of the most soul-tormenting experiences since my baptism last June, to be forced to listen to monotonous, mantra-like, idolatrous choir of voices, led by a completely disengaged fat woman, whose job is to “do” these several times a day. No wonder she is not very involved and very mechanical. Even my husband and children, who don't speak Polish and don't understand the words of the prayers, were horrified by the never-ending repetitions. 2 long hours... of praying to Mary. Because that's what it basically is. Our Saviour gets mentioned, but main thrust goes to Mary. I am almost tempted to use PBUH after her name, to give her some rest from the constant tormenting her memory.

So after the second hour of rosary a mass was carried out, by a young and nice priest, who probably meant well, but set out to prove to everybody that bread and wine ARE body and blood, using the passages from John 6. Without context. I wanted to scream... I screamed silently. What a shame he never heard of the biblical interpretation, for example the one like this: What Jesus Meant When He Said “You Must Eat My Flesh”...
He then distributed the wafers to the faithful, saving the wine for himself. Nobody ever explained to me why the wine is reserved to priests only. Somehow this contradiction does not bother the faithful...

You know what saddens me most? This was my father there, in that coffin. Nobody gave us any chance to just meditate quietly about this moment in his and our existence. All possibility of insight and real prayer was drowned in the loud, emotionless and sufferingly long mantra of rosary. First now, long after the funeral, I am able to think, gather my feeble thoughts and put them in written form.
I wonder... Are Catholics afraid of people praying without mantras? Or – maybe they have no idea such prayer is even possible? Certainly those I saw there are quite satisfied with the ritual, and quite angry at my not taking active part in it...

I explained to some cousins why I did not participate actively. Some understood. Some asked what a Baptist is, is it the same as Jehovah's Witness... after all, “you all run around with your Bibles”...
Explaining to this cousin who John Baptist was opened my eyes real wide to their complete ignorance. And confirmed my worst nightmares as to the need of preaching the Gospel in so called Christian countries of Europe. And to the difficulties and obstacles that are put in front of the evangelist in a culture that claims to be Christian, but has only the form of godliness, without the substance and depth, denying its power...

Folks, this is scary. It is scary when a woman who buried her mother a week before shows me the grave, tells me she is alone now, and when I point to heaven and tell her: “No, you are not alone, if you believe in Jesus Our Saviour”, she looks at me as at a crazy person. It is scary when the only prayers used by people are “Our Father” and “Hail Mary”. It is scary when “Hail Mary” is being repeated 10 times more than “Our Father”. It is scary when all the songs sang in the service are about her, the queen of heaven...

Please pray for the revival in Catholic countries. They are spiritually dead. False teachers and wolves have led the sheep to slaughter, and the sheep follow gladly, happy about not being forced to think. This is serious. For me – very serious, because my father was one of the sheep, unless God saved him somehow without my knowing it.

People are marching to hell. I am weeping for these crowds. Weep with me and pray.