The material of memories

ALL of my life I have had to be a “funeral goer”.

It goes with the turf of being a minister but of all the rites of passage it is probably true to say that supporting a family through bereavement and leading a service of commemoration and thanksgiving is one of the greatest privileges of ministry.

It is the time spent with the family before and after the funeral that really counts.

Before the funeral is the time when life stories are told, when one learns of the simply amazing things that people have done with their lives and the time when material for thanksgiving and remembrance are properly collected.

I well remember the exertion and demand required to make every service special when every week of life was punctuated by regular visits to graveyards and crematoria. Now that I have reached a certain age I am more often one of the mourners, sitting in the pew remembering loved ones of my own family or lifelong friends or neighbours. Three things always strike me:

• The first is how much one learns about people when it’s too late to engage them in conversation about their extraordinary achievements. After every service I am left asking why I knew so little about the life we were celebrating.

• The second is how carefully people chose the words they use to remember their loved ones. However, of even more significance is how carefully they choose

the words and music to express the way in which they understand how life is not snuffed out by death but finds its continuity in the love that will not let them go.

• The third is that when it comes to remembrance – less is more. When HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, was laid to rest some people felt that, at the funeral service, not enough was said about his life. In fact, the symbolism of his cap and gloves on the seat of his carriage, the choice of simple readings and the music were more powerful in themselves – less was more.

Someone once said that a New Year’s resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other. I recognise this description! But this year I have made some resolutions that I intend to keep.

The first is that when I am in the company of those who mean something to me I am going to make a greater effort to discover what makes them tick and to know what hidden talents they exercise in life.

I’d rather enjoy those conversations now than learn about their lives when it is too late to converse.

The second is to remember the importance of the words we use to express our faith and our hope. Some of the old familiar phrases need to be refreshed and we have to dig deeper to find the right words which bring comfort and meaning to the bereaved.

“We may have come from dust and just as surely, we will return to dust, but in between is the material of memories and the indefinable other that has loved and been loved; that’s the bit which is forever in the heart of God.

The third is to remember that less is more. It’s a habit for us Presbyterians to have to express everything in words – sometimes endless streams of words, but that is not necessary. Those of us who spend time with the bereaved, need to make the time to weave together the right symbols, the right music and the right amount of silence to sit alongside language which is accessible and words which are meaningful.

We may have come from dust and just as surely, we will return to dust, but in between is the material of memories and the indefinable other that has loved and been loved; that’s the bit which is forever in the heart of God.

No doubt, I will continue to be a “funeral goer”, but I hope that these will be occasions where memories are collected and bottled and where the love that was shared with those who have passed is far greater than the pain of the loss we are experiencing.