Here Comes de Bryde

There was a time when I would tell you that I preferred taking a funeral to a wedding any time. If pressed further, I would claim that it is because of the "why they are here" dimension of it all and yes, there are a few couples who seem to favour the pretty pictures and only God-lite. 

But only a few. 

I have just finished conducting a cracking wedding here. It was life-giving for me, and I think that it might have been for the assembled crowd too. We laughed a lot, and even the forecast and inevitable rain stopped a very helpful four minutes before the bride emerged from the antique Roller. The power of prayer, I tell you ... 

As I pondered the increasing queue for the loo post-nuptials (and my word, what a lengthy queue it was for the single Necessarium in the building) it occurred to me that I might have been characteristically harsh on weddings. In the first place, the couple chose us - we didn't choose them. We had the honour of saying "yes" to them. Within the myriad options that exist for couple these days, that a pair would choose us is not to be taken for granted. Then they invited their friends and family to a place that they have grown comfortable with through the time of preparations - and a group of people who were complementary of the church and of the service. They gave us a go too.

I reflected too upon some of the weddings I have been privy too that have not been in a church setting. Some are exquisite and meaningful affairs, but many are not. Taking God out of the equation leaves you with a book to sign and person in a suit to work out how to stretch that moment out beyond three or four minutes. The fact is, churches are gifted in this ministry - we have had lots of practice I guess.

As with funerals, we as priests get (DV) one go to take our place in realising a meaningful moment in someone's earthly existence. They needn't come to us, but they do, and we should be glad of the opportunity. They choose hymns and sing them, they choose Scripture and pray the prayers. I have also noticed a new level of creativity on the part of couples. They know well what they want and envisage every moment in detail. It seems to me a great opportunity, once again, to enable - as distinct from chuntering about proper music in church. I have witnessed some fantastic things this year in the weddings I have conducted - some true creativity and expression, and I am at peace with all of it (mostly). In fact, I am learning a thing or two along the way. In the middle of these remarkable ceremonies, with all the quirky touches and questionable rhyme, there is a couple, God, and love. 

You can't want for more than that, surely. 

The Service of Light

Last Sunday, Remembrance Sunday, seemed to me to be the ideal day to hold our annual Service of Light. For those of you unfamiliar with this act of worship, it is a simple service of words and music and which finds its focus in candle-lighting. It is a service aimed at and tailored for those who have lost loved ones in recent months - the newly bereaved if you will. We had scripture that spoke of Christ's triumph over death and music that took them on a journey from grief to hopefulness. It is also the second time this year that, in this church at least, I read the names of the faithful departed (first time being the night of All Souls). It is a service suffused in silence, some gentle chanting from the Taize corpus, the calling of the names, and the short procession to the front for that specific act of remembrance in the lighting of a simple tea-light. Some came, lit and paused. Some came, lit and fled in tears. Some came, lit and helped the next person with their candle. In itself, the lighting of candles was an interesting phenomenon to watch unfold. 

My preparation for the service was simple. I wrote to all the families for whom I conducted funerals, and on the day provided simple tea/pastries refreshments. We are blessed with controllable lighting, so the scene was set for the service to begin. The candles were the focus, not the halogens that normally carry the burden. 

I noticed two things this year. First was that we doubled numbers from the previous year. Second was how many families came along - not just the 'next of kin' individually (as I had expected, and who had received the letter). 

After the service, I took the valuable opportunity to get around as many people as I could. It was clear to me that a good number of those present had travelled long distances, much as they had on the day of the funeral in question. Digging a little deeper, it became clear that these families had (it may seem obvious in hindsight) spent the day together with the Service as their 'excuse'. In one case, I heard from a lady whose family had, on that day, committed to see more of her and they had resolved to gather monthly. 

When we priests/ministers conceive of these special services, it is easy to see them as the end and not the means to a greater end. Yes, the opportunity to light a candle, say a private prayer, to re-member whoever had died from their lives - all important. But not half as important as some of the unexpected behaviours. It, like our beloved Eucharists, was a family event. I grant you that, with one exception, it was a child-free service, and perhaps there is something to be taken from that (as most of these families will have had kids who themselves will have grieved these same deaths). In any instance, it was clear that God's purposes may have been slightly different to mine, and as always, in the very best of ways. 

(Oh, and most of them had, previously, claimed to be 'not really church going people')

Having Their Cake and Blessing It

Before I start, apologies for the lengthy absence. It has been a period of time characterised by spending time away from home for all sorts of reasons, though chief of which was our week away in Wales. Lovely, ennet!

I have returned to the Blog in fine fettle, rested and ready for the steady acceleration to the festival of moment of the birth of Jesus; you know, Christmas and all that! For me, that will bring with it my beloved mince pies, my less beloved Away in a Minger but the overall sense of fluffy red and gold that insinuates itself into every fleeting thought. Nice. 

I have also returned to this Blog with a bee in my bonnet (and having been to Wales, have mastered the art of saying "bumblebee" in the Welsh accent. Stonking). I digress. I witnessed something today that annoys me, believe it or not. 

I am a priest, a vicar, a God botherer - a worker for the Lord. When I am asked to officiate over a funeral, I think it is reasonable for the mourners to expect that I will lob in the odd prayer, a little Bible if you will, and allude to the resurrection somewhere. Some may, in line with a trend I am fast disliking, expect me to use the death of their nearest and dearest to sell my church as a value-added to death. Either way, the funerials will be Christian, overtly, proudly and honestly. 

Then you get the Humanists, disciples of none less that Archbishop Dawkins (whose existence I refuse to accept). Their book, Funerals Without God, sets a clear scene for the punters. You will get a funeral without God (though interestingly, they refer to "God" as distinct to "a god" or funerals "without a make-believe deity" which is different - and means that they must have a view of the God I have a view on). If I went to a Humanist funeral (as distinct from the more honest and upfront civil ceremonies), I might expect some secular poetry, Elvis and happy reminiscence. 

Imagine if Reverend Father David Cloake pitched up without a collar (no, scrap that - some don't), without a Bible, placed a goat atop the box and catafalque, slit its throat and let it die as a blood offering to Grunthos the Flatulent. Imagine if I presided over a funeral service without speaking of the Lord at all. You'd have every right to kick my reverential butt!

Today, I witnessed a sharply dressed Humanist high-priestess (ordained into the church of Dawkins) offer Jewish blessings - truly. I have heard of Humanists employing the Lord's Prayer in their "ceremonies" (you know the one, Our Father, the one in Heaven, yada yada be His name). I saw her directive to the staff of the very nice crematorium asking them, at a future service, to pause to give people time for their prayers. She played Ave Maria (Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee). If this were retail or business it would surely breach trading standards. 

The thing is, I find the lack of integrity offensive. If people asked me for a funeral sans-God, I would have to decline. It is the right thing for me to do. If I were to stand up as a Humanist but invite invocations of a God I protest as delusion, I would be acting immorally. Simply put, it seems that they want their cake and to bless it. I would have far more respect for a group of people who told me I was delusional and therefore mentally unwell (for it is, I am sure, what they think) if they didn't then profit from our sentiment, literature and sacred texts.  At least true atheists have the honour to talk of God as I might be inclined to talk about pink elephants - which is to say that in either case, they just wouldn't arise in a conversation. 

My New Favouritist Thing In the World for Today

While all of you have been sleeping and waking, working and playing, eating and drinking, fighting and loving - a process has been taking place that few people ever see. It is a thing that takes place in deepest darkest secret, emerging complete like a mysterious creation from another world.

Well, sort of.

Today I have been mostly building services - a sort of Liturgy Construction Site where the framework of our worship has taken form. 

And it is the most fun in the world, let me tell you (unless you happen to be my Sacristan [and he reads this] in which case it is a source of much concern).

With all services and liturgies, you could open up a book, start at the beginning and get to the end, doing as directed in a blind way until it becomes just another register entry. Alternatively, you can build a living thing, that has shades of light and dark, periods of noise and silence, spells of great pathos and emotion. And so it is that I have been putting together the big services that regale the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Our Lord. I have completed Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday, and rather than having formed four distinct liturgies, have crafted one liturgy in four movements. 

Fashioning liturgy is a wonderful thing, and this is the first year I have done it on this scale (for, perhaps, obvious reasons). Until now, I have picked up the book or Order of Service and done what is said. This process gives a depth to that which I finding incredibly helpful. It's in little choreographic moments that so much can be achieved in these services that we all know and love (if we know and love them) - for example, matching the three points where the Cross on Good Friday enters the church to those where the Paschal Candle enters a day later. Another is the use of the Pangue Lingua and its tune - once on Maundy Thursday, and again in echo at the time of the Veneration on Good Friday. The use of bells and their discontinuation - all these things, small and apparently accidental, give so much flavour, so much more meaning. 

Finally, I get liturgy. It is orchestral. It isn't linear as it sometimes appears or is delivered, but a beautiful movement of events that rotate, rise and fall. Needless to say, this Easter will now mean even more to me than I ever thought it could - because I have been granted a rare opportunity to shape worship (not as frequent an event in the life of a Vicar as you might imagine)