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Well, we're back. It was, on the whole, a much nicer trip than expected. The funeral itself was pretty short (and for a death-fixated religion, the Christians sure do crap funeral rituals, but I plan to rant about that separately...) and, I think, good for the closest grieving. We then went to see Jenny's paternal grandmother, who looked much better than she did last time we saw her. She's still one of the most amazingly positive people I've ever met, so it's nice visiting her. We then spent another night at Jenny's father's, which was also surprisingly pleasant. Only a very small amount of dodging subjects had to be done. On the way home today we stopped to see Thina, the wheelchair-bound dressage-rider who visited us over midsummer, and her hyperactive dogs (who are flat-coat retrievers, I have now been informed). Which was also fun.

And now we're at home and the cats are pretending to ignore us.

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*Only a very small amount of dodging subjects had to be done."

That's good. I hate it when one has to dodge like crazy. It seems to ruin the time spent, do you not agree?

Most certainly. The problem here is that Jenny's father became a Christian priest two years ago, and his current wife (number three for him) was the one who got him to convert a bunch of years back. She's very Christian, and the only person invited who refused to come to our handfasting. So talking about our religion with her is dodgy ground, and we prefer to avoid it.

Ouch. At least my family don't fall out over religion. They manage other things .

I wish some of this belief could waft in my direction. I don't care which religion, I just want to feel that some being is out there and actually cares.

Actually, we get along surprisingly well with Jenny's father considering the circumstances. He and I even discussed the practicalities of doing ceremonies outdoors during this visit. He seems much more curious than disapproving, which is good.

And I'm afraid I can't help with the belief bit, particularly not from this far away.

She's very Christian, and the only person invited who refused to come to our handfasting.

Ouch! That's tough. Speaking as a Christian, I would have hoped there could have been some middle ground reached; obviously she couldn't agree with your religion but not to come to the handfasting says more than that, it says she disapproved of you (even if she didn't disapprove, to refuse to come conveys that she disapproved), and that's not right. I'm reminded of the situation with my sister-in-law's brother, who was living in a de-facto relationship, not something that is approved of in the Christian religion, but that didn't mean that she (or any of us) went around ignoring or sniffing at him or his S-O (who's a very nice girl). To do that, that just feels like spite to me.

And regarding the original post, I would be interested to ~~argue~~ discuss your generalization of all Christian funerals from one example... (grin) Not that I have that many more examples than you... (grin)

Her refusal never actually became an issue, since she and Jenny's father got a perfectly legitimate reason not to attend anyway (namely, his ordination as a priest being scheduled at the same time as our ritual was to begin). And I think her problem was with attending a decidedly non-Christian ritual. Overall, she is a quite nice woman, and steering clear of some topics of discussion when she's around is no big hardship.

This wasn't the only Christian funeral I've been to, only the first one since I started working as a priest. And the major flaw (IMO, and apart from all the things I don't like about Christianity in general, of course) was the near-total lack of attention to the grieving people left behind. The ceremony as it was might have made a decent middle third of a proper ritual, but standing by itself as it did it severely lacked in several respects.

And I think her problem was with attending a decidedly non-Christian ritual.
Hmmm, yes, I can see the possible problem there -- especially depending on how much the attendance required participation and the participation required what might be construed as "bowing down to foriegn gods" so to speak.

the major flaw... was the near-total lack of attention to the grieving people left behind
In what sense, exactly?

In the sense that there was no room for them to do or say anything of their own at all, and what little attention was given to them was in the third person and as a group. The only one talking was the priest, who had never even met the deceased. Participation from family and friends was limited to the singing of a couple of hymns, reading out loud of a pre-written prayer and walking past the coffin to drop off a flower. There were no bonding elements, no room for personal words, almost no room for displays of grief and so on.

Yes, that sounds very stifling, though unfortunately it doesn't surprise me; it is probably very traditional for the priest to be the only one to speak. But it isn't always that way. For both my Uncle Jack and my Uncle John (different sides of the family!) quite a lot of the time was spent having selected family members and friends giving eulogies about the deceased -- not some stranger. Sort of a celebration of their life. Though, oddly enough, the most moving bit of Uncle John's funeral was when they played Taps -- he'd been in the Navy in WWII, so he was entitled to a military funeral.

I think this may vary with the particular denomination. I'm used to there being an opportunity given for *anyone* who wants to get up and speak about their memories of the deceased to do so. And at my sister's funeral, there was also a slide/film show of her life, a biographical booklet about her with photographs and a poem written by one of her daughters, and a card enclosed for the attendees to write down their memories of her to share with the family. Also, IIRC, several of her children played and sang her favorite hymns. They made quite a do of it.

I've already left instructions with my lawyer that my memorial service is to be a party, with birthday cake and salted nuts and my CD of U2 music played by string quartet. :)

Jenny's father said pretty much the same, and he's from a different Christian variant from the ex-State Church (which the funeral was). It sounds a bit better, but I remain surprised at the weakness of Christian death rituals. But then I never understood Christians at all, so maybe I'm just missing something.

Well, now I'm confused. What would you do; or perhaps more accurately, what would you expect us to do?

Or maybe I'm just confused by the idea of us as 'death-fixated'. I wouldn't have said we think much about death at all; we think about resurrection, and being reunited with God.

What would you do; or perhaps more accurately, what would you expect us to do?

First, get some kind of detectable beginning and end. Playing music while people enter the church and sit down really doesn't give a sense of "The ceremony is starting now". And almost any end at all would be better than the priest ceasing to talk and people milling around aimlessly! Second, drop the speaker/audience relationship, at least when the speaker is not the priest. Those who speak their memories of a recently dead close one don't need a spotlight and a distance, they need human closeness and a hug. Third, drop the schedule. Grief does not run to a timetable, so don't force people to speak according to one (or even in a predetermined order). Let words and tears come as they will.

AFAIK, none of that is incompatible with your beliefs. I even think there are (or at least have been) Christian variants that do things pretty much like that.

I wouldn't have said we think much about death at all; we think about resurrection, and being reunited with God.

Resurrection requires dying first. You reunite with your God after you die. The rewards and punishments offered by your God to make you behave as he likes are mainly to be delivered after you've died. The big thing your saviour did was to become human and die. You use the cross, the instrument of his execution, as your most important symbol. A requirement to reach the highest state available to a human, sainthood, is that the saint-to-be is dead. You may see it as being focused on what comes after death, but for someone who does not share your beliefs the difference between that and focussing on death is very hard to see.

You may see it as being focused on what comes after death, but for someone who does not share your beliefs the difference between that and focussing on death is very hard to see.

Yes, intellectually I can see the pattern, when you list all those things together. But the way I feel when you say it is more like, we've been looking forward to a present and you're accusing us of focusing on the box that it comes in.

FWIW, some of the things you list aren't unique to Christianity: psychology tells us that all people think about death, and the belief in reuniting with God after death in some form or other is common to several religions; in fact, I'd have said that all religions are about achieving some perceived form of immortality by connecting with the beyond. Also, some of the things you list are denominational: many of us don't allow the use of the cross as a symbol, or elevate people to 'sainthood' after they die.

Well, as usual, you've given me much to think about, and I do appreciate it. Thank you.

This wasn't the only Christian funeral I've been to, only the first one since I started working as a priest. And the major flaw (IMO, and apart from all the things I don't like about Christianity in general, of course) was the near-total lack of attention to the grieving people left behind. The ceremony as it was might have made a decent middle third of a proper ritual, but standing by itself as it did it severely lacked in several respects.

I've been to a few Christian funerals recently. Of them all, I thought that my Nana's funeral was the one that was done well. The long journey from the village church to Grandad's grave in Sheffield maybe broke things up a little too much, even though it couldn't be helped. I thought that the stories from Nana's life that the Rector picked out were very appropriate. And holoding the wake at a pub was totally appropriate to who she had ben in life.

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