Reflecting on Funerals

We are coming to the end of something of a run of funerals. Between us we have had 12 in 10 days. Some of these have been deaths caused by Cv, and others not; some unknown, in that they weren't tested. Numbers have now declined, suggesting that - as nationally - the Cv peak is past. For now, anyway. On the whole, people have followed the requirements of minimum numbers of mourners, and social distancing. These have made for some very different funerals from the ones we have been used to.

This year, I will have been a vicar for 45 years. I was shocked to find, from a very rough calculation, that I must have taken close on to 3000 funerals! It is true that, as a vicar, you develop your own ways of doing things, but I can honestly say that every funeral for me has been different, unique. Because each person is. I have therefore tried to ensure that each service is be properly prepared for and offered, as a way of commemorating that life and holding them before God. Whether he or she knew it or not, their life was God-given and they were loved from beginning to end - and beyond. And every service is as much about the family and friends, as it is about the deceased. Even now, I find I will vary a service, include new material, as appropriate for the occasion. Don't tell the bishop, but I don't stick much to the set order of service!

So it has not been difficult for me to adapt to the latest regulations. In some ways, these smaller, shorter, quieter funerals have been better in their own way. Yesterday, I did a burial at one of our most beautiful churchyards, and I overheard one of the mourners say she had actually preferred it to the more traditional way: the whole service conducted outside, in warm sunshine, in a more intimate gathering. (It would, of course, have been a very different matter in the depths of winter!) I think it can assist the family if their grief is more private, rather than  before a mass of extended family, friends and well-wishers - much as their love and support is appreciated. Then, as many families are proposing, if a big thanksgiving/memorial service is planned for later on, they may be more ready to celebrate the life of their loved one, being further along the journey of grief.

It is quite common these days for a family member or friend to offer a tribute, to reminisce about the person who has died. In the context of a smaller gathering this has a greater poignancy: on two or three occasions lately, as the speaker has fought back their tears, family members have called out words of encouragement to help them through. That would be less possible in a crowded church or crematorium chapel, where a certain amount of decorum is required.

Another thing that has happened, because not many are allowed to attend a funeral, is that people have come out onto the streets in town or village to applaud, or stand in respectful silence as a funeral cortege has passed by. I understand this used to happen far more in former times, than now. But the custom could return - though it is more possible at the moment with more people being at home. It is also a special way of expressing community.

Come the autumn, some vicars will be very busy taking memorial services, I think! Although not all families will want a religious aspect to their remembering. It will be interesting to see which of these new funeral practices become customary in future.

Today's piece of art comes from Becky, who lives in Sheffield. The words are words of Jesus. Becky comments, I drew this picture the first day my brother was in hospital last week... I have often seen this Bible verse illustrated with tranquil scenes, but I feel that the peace that Jesus gives us is especially precious when we’re in the middle of the storm. 

Caring for Carers

It's been a fairly full few days: the anticipated increase in funerals has happened. Between us we have 12 in the space of 10 days. They are not all apparently Cv related, in the sense that this was given as the cause of death. However, one of our local undertakers surmised that some elderly, frail people may have simply lost the will to live, in the current crisis. Or, as he put it, 'Cv has tipped them over the edge.' Not impossible. I'll write another time about funerals, and the changes of practice caused by the Cv lock-down.

Another thing that has preoccupied me over the weekend is a submission to our bishops concerning 'The Church in Cumbria after Lock-down'. Our diocesan leaders are spending some time considering the implications for church life of this crisis - some of it actually quite positive e.g. better use of technology; some of it less so, notably a significant drop in income, exacerbating some already challenging financial concerns.

While I was a student, I spent one long vacation as an 'auxiliary nurse' at a geriatric hospital. It was an education! Since then, of course, I have visited countless homes for the elderly, either to see individuals or to conduct some kind of worship service. Both my parents spent their final years in care homes, and currently my aunt is a resident at a care home in London. A friend and colleague here is manager of such an establishment locally. I am also aware that I am becoming 'elderly' myself, and the time may not be too far off when I might need such care. So, at least at second-hand, I have some knowledge of and an interest in residential care.

The Cv crisis is proving to be something of a litmus test of different aspects of our society. In many ways, we are recognising our strengths: the selfless dedication of NHS staff, and the very many acts of kindness and neighbourliness, for example. But we are also seeing where the gaps are. It is no surprise to find that residential care is one of these. For years, successive governments have failed to address the issue of care for the elderly. Cuts in local government budgets have made the situation worse, and it has been left to the private sector, by and large, to try to meet the needs. Care home staff are poorly paid in comparison with other workers, revealing how as a society we fail to recognise the importance of the job they do. The same is true of those who care for the elderly in the community.

It is probably inevitable that we will all face tax rises when the crisis is over. Is it too much to expect that a proportion of that increase will go towards care for the elderly? And will we all be prepared to pay for this? After all, it is a fact that the age profile of our country is getting older. The need is urgent.

Learning from History (2) - and some more art

Reflecting on yesterday's brief historical examples, what might we learn about today's experience?

1. This is a moment for self-examination. (Plague) examines the mind of the human race.  To think about what matters and what doesn't. How do we prioritise? How much do we appreciate one another, and the world of nature? Are we prepared to put the needs of others before ourselves? As someone has emailed me just today: I hope that when things do eventually return to some sort of normality, we have learnt from this time and are able to pace ourselves more appropriately and...  consider the important things in life. The birds are a constant reminder for me to do this... they now appear so happy and loud in this time of quietness.
2. The need to care for our sick, dying and otherwise needy people. This might seem obvious in an advanced society such as ours, but the current debate about the treatment of our elderly in residential care - and how we value (or don't) our care workers - highlights a much neglected area in our country. It is said that a mark of a healthy society is the way it cares for its weakest members. Care and compassion have always been qualities central to Christian mission: as St Cuthbert demonstrated.
3. We need to learn to accept our vulnerability - that we are not in control. This lies behind the quotations from Martin Luther, who casts himself on God's mercy.And if we have a proper estimate of ourselves, in all humility, we are more likely to be kind to others.
4. Luther also demonstrates a wonderful common sense for the common good! I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed...Social distancing in the 16th century!
5. Fearless in the face of death, courageous in the face of suffering. Someone said to me recently that the fear around at the moment is not so much fear of the virus, it's fear of death. And here particularly is the Christian contribution. Once we realise that by his death Christ has destroyed death, and by his rising he has raised us to life eternal - and once, by faith, we have received this most precious of gifts, then we can enter more fully into the darkest places. Times like these, as Spurgeon pointed out, are when churches tend to grow, and people turn to God: the mind is sensitive... when death is abroad.
6. In all the examples I quoted previously, there was a sense that those who did what they did for the sake of Christ gained many admirers. One writer attributes the growth of the Church in the 3rd century largely to the way Christians sacrificially gave themselves to care for the sick and the dying. Although we now have our wonderful NHS, with all the wonders of modern medicine and technology to help and heal the sick, we all  know that it is the character of the individual doctors and nurses which really leaves an impression. And it is the character of Christians in any walk of life which is the best commendation of our Lord, especially in times of fear and instability.

Here is another piece of artwork from Heather: an Easter 'offering'. The picture doesn't really do it justice, as there is shimmering gold thread in there!

Learning from History (1) - and 'How the Virus Stole Easter'

We invested a lot of time and energy in the various online services last week. So it's a bit quieter this week - though not a lot! I've found that several of us are doing a bit of a stock-take. What are we learning? What will the future look like, for church and society? Frankly, we have little idea at present. If recent predictions are fulfilled about continuing social distancing and face masks, this will have a profound effect on how we 'church'. Will the common cup at Communion ever return, for example?

We are inclined to forget that 'plagues' have had a very significant impact upon social history for many centuries. Countless millions of lives have been lost to them. For example, 20 million to the influenza pandemic which probably hastened the end of World War 1. 'Plague' is probably too loaded a word to use today, but that is surely what we are experiencing? It's interesting to note some Christian reflections on previous pandemics. Here are just a few:

1. There was a lethal pandemic across the Roman Empire in the middle of the 3rd Century. It is estimated that some 5000 people per day were dying in Rome. Bishop Cyprian of Carthage (c.200-258 AD) wrote: How suitable, how necessary it is that this plague and pestilence, which seems horrible and deadly, ...examines the mind of the human race; whether the [healthy] care for the sick, whether relatives dutifully love kinsmen as they should . . . whether physicians do not desert the afflicted. Christians at the time won a lot of admiration for their fearless caring for the sick and dying, often resulting in their own deaths. As another contemporary bishop (Dionysius of Alexandria) wrote: Many, in nursing and curing others, transferred their death to themselves and died in their stead. That sense of pandemics 'examining the mind of the human race' is certainly a thought to ponder.
2. In the so-called Celtic period in Britain (roughly 600-800AD), plagues were common: sometimes whole villages would be wiped out. St Cuthbert (see my blog, 20th March) became Prior of Melrose Monastery, because the previous prior died from the plague. He himself succumbed, but recovered - walking with a limp for the rest of his life. We read that when he went out on mission, preaching the Gospel, he cared for many plague victims and healed some of them.
3. From the 14th century, in Europe, there were frequent outbreaks of the bubonic plague - known as the Black Death, because the flesh of sufferers turned black. One such outbreak happened in 1527 in Wittenberg, home of Martin Luther, the great church reformer, and his wife Katharina, who was pregnant at the time. Luther wrote, We must respect the word of Christ, “I was sick and you did not visit me.” According to this passage we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress but is obliged to assist and help him as he himself would like to be helped. Writing about his own strategy, he said, I shall ask God mercifully to protect us.Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine and take it.I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed so I don't become contaminated and thus accidentally pollute others and so cause their death as a result of my negligence. 
   If God should wish to take me. He will surely find me, and I have done what He has expected of me. What a wonderful combination of faith, pragmatism and social distancing!
4. There was a similar outbreak in London in 1665, from which the city was largely delivered by the Great Fire the following year. Perhaps most remarkable that year was the story of the village of Eyam in Derbyshire, where 80% of the population perished. However, in a wonderful example of 'self-isolation', led by the Vicar, William Mompesson, the villagers decided not to flee so as not to infect others. Mompesson's wife died in the plague, but he himself survived, preaching in the open air Sunday by Sunday until it was over.
5. In 1854, there was a terrible outbreak of cholera in London - by then probably the wealthiest and most powerful city in the world. A youthful Charles Spurgeon, later to become a well-known Christian preacher and writer, reflected thus: 
   If there ever be a time when the mind is sensitive, it is when death is abroad. I recollect, when first I came to London, how anxiously people listened to the gospel, for the cholera was raging terribly. There was little scoffing then. Like other Christian leaders before him, he recognised a pandemic as a time when people are more receptive to the Christian Gospel because it faces the reality of death head-on.

In summary, what may the reflections and experiences of those who have gone before us teach us as we think about church and society in the future? I will return to this later.

Meanwhile, here is a poem from South Africa, which picks up the theme I mentioned two days ago: comparing empty churches with the Empty Tomb.

HOW THE VIRUS STOLE EASTER By Kristi Bothur with a nod to Dr Seuss!

Twas late in ‘19 when the virus began Bringing chaos and fear to all people, each land. People were sick, hospitals full, Doctors overwhelmed, no one in school. As winter gave way to the promise of spring, The virus raged on, touching peasant and king. People hid in their homes from the enemy unseen. They YouTubed and Zoomed, social-distanced, and cleaned. April approached and churches were closed. “There won’t be an Easter,” the world supposed. “There won’t be church services, and egg hunts are out. No reason for new dresses when we can’t go about.” Holy Week started, as bleak as the rest. The world was focused on masks and on tests. “Easter can’t happen this year,” it proclaimed. “Online and at home, it just won’t be the same.” Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the days came and went. The virus pressed on; it just would not relent. The world woke Sunday and nothing had changed. The virus still menaced, the people, estranged. “Pooh pooh to the saints,” the world was grumbling. “They’re finding out now that no Easter is coming. “They’re just waking up! We know just what they’ll do! Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, And then all the saints will all cry boo-hoo. “That noise,” said the world, “will be something to hear.” So it paused and the world put a hand to its ear. And it did hear a sound coming through all the skies. It started down low, then it started to rise. But the sound wasn’t depressed. Why, this sound was triumphant! It couldn’t be so! But it grew with abundance! The world stared around, popping its eyes. Then it shook! What it saw was a shocking surprise! Every saint in every nation, the tall and the small, Was celebrating Jesus in spite of it all! It hadn’t stopped Easter from coming! It came! Somehow or other, it came just the same! And the world with its life quite stuck in quarantine Stood puzzling and puzzling. “Just how can it be?” “It came without bonnets, it came without bunnies, It came without egg hunts, cantatas, or money.” Then the world thought of something it hadn’t before. “Maybe Easter,” it thought, “doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Easter, perhaps, means a little bit more.” And what happened then? Well....the story’s not done. What will YOU do? Will you share with that one Or two or more people needing hope in this night? Will you share the source of your life in this fight? The churches are empty - but so is the tomb, And Jesus is victor over death, doom, and gloom. So this year at Easter, let this be our prayer, As the virus still rages all around, everywhere. May the world see hope when it looks at God’s people. May the world see the church is not a building or steeple. May the world find Faith in Jesus’ death and resurrection, May the world find Joy in a time of dejection. May 2020 be known as the year of survival, But not only that - Let it start a revival.

Not the Easter we planned

We had such big plans for Easter this year. A big procession of witness through the town on Good Friday, with one of our bishops, and featuring several parts of the Passion story in costume drama. We had been planning this for months. Still, nothing wasted - it will keep till next year! Big thanks to all who had been working so hard on this.

Then today we would have begun with a dawn service on the field, down by the river in town, around a massive cross we would have planted at the end of the procession. Then, after worship in our several churches, there was going to be a Festival of Faith, including baptism and confirmation with the bishop returning to Cockermouth. Alas, for the several candidates, that will have to wait a few more weeks. Like lots of other things.

So the weekend has been remarkably quiet, though there has been some preparation to do: I did (twice) a live Communion service on Zoom this morning from our living room. We had over 20 at the dawn service - when we would have been on the field. And more than that later in the morning. So joyful worship - apart - with a strong sense of our unity in the risen Christ.

We have still managed to erect a cross in the town; and also here in Broughton (see below): done, of course, as part of someone's daily exercise!

Church buildings were empty today - but as someone has pointed out, so was the tomb on the first Easter Day. It doesn't mean nothing was happening. Jesus was out and about, heading for Galilee, where most of his mission took place. He was going to meet his friends there. Just so, the church wasn't inactive either. All day, I have been hearing and reading things about what different churches up and down the country have been doing to celebrate Easter. There have been many 'meetings'. My guess is that more people have been participating than would have been in a church service anyway!

I hope yours has been a good Easter Day. Happy Easter. And may the joy of this day carry forward to another 'day of resurrection' tomorrow!

Reset and Recall

Thank you very much to all who prayed and sent good wishes as we said goodbye to Paul this morning. It was a very moving service, the more so with only 7 present - his wife, Wendy, and their family. One of his daughters and one of his grand-daughters both spoke tearfully about him. The hardest thing was seeing them depart in single file afterwards, when the most natural thing would have been to hug each other.

Wendy was my predecessor as Team Rector, who had stayed in Cockermouth with Paul when she retired. It has been a most harmonious relationship between me and them, and Wendy has continued active in ministry. So this is very much a death 'close to home.'

Paul was much more than the Rector's husband! He was a most genial and friendly man, with a heart full of faith and love. He loved music: singing, playing the organ (worshipper first, organist second - not always the case!), and he played the Eb bass in the brass band! He was a member of one of our Church Councils, and organised several meetings of our men's group. He will be dearly missed, as was obvious when many people - unable to attend the funeral - stood out on the streets of the town as the hearse went past. He would have been amazed - a modest man. We will have a proper thanksgiving service for him as soon as we are able.

Yesterday our clergy chapter met via Zoom. We shared a lot about how different 'church' is now: what will remain of what we have learned, and what will revert to something like 'normal'? All agreed we really must think again about how we 'church', especially as - even before the Cv emergency - financial issues are troubling us both centrally (in the diocese) and locally. How can we spend less, and more purposefully? And how can we inspire one another to give more sacrificially as a new vision emerges?

I've been writing before about how the lock-down is helping us to realise the damage we have been doing to the planet, and indeed our own health. It is as if we are pressing the 'reset' button. But, from a Christian point of view, this is only half the story. We also need a sense of 'recall': not just caring for the planet,, but returning to our original relationship with our Creator, through Jesus Christ. As someone has just written to me:

Climate Emergency campaigners get the first point – that we must cease to mis-use the planet or we will destroy it.  The second point is even more urgent – all of us need a relationship with the One whose creation it is, and who alone can show us how to live well on earth.

I finish with another piece of artwork, this time by Eleanor. She says it is inspired by the sense of community she felt during our Palm Sunday worship last weekend.

Holy Week begins

Palm Sunday yesterday. The start of Holy Week. It was quite an intense day, in fact, both in terms of entering the 'spirit' of this time of year, and in 'meeting' various people on line. We were very pleased with the morning service, which included many faces from different churches in our team. There were many words of appreciation afterwards. You can still view it here:  https://youtu.be/3ihPu50n9tY

When we reviewed it later on, one of those who took part commented on how 'un-professional' it was - in a good way. That is, it was all of excellent quality but lacking the polish of a professional production. So somehow, it felt like authentic worship - the offering of gifts, rather than performances. Much of the rest of the day was spent preparing for more online offerings during this Holy Week.

Not forgetting our own walk with God. I awoke on Saturday with an old chorus from childhood in my mind:
Jesus loves me, this I know
for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to him belong,
I am weak but he is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.

Where did that come from, after all these years? But actually, this is fundamental to the Gospel story, so a good song to carry through this week! I began reading through the Gospel story of Holy Week, from Matthew 21 yesterday, trying to enter with my imagination into the events described there. Interesting to note how Jesus moves from confrontation with authority to connecting with crowds eager to listen to him, to private space with his 12 disciples.

Today, the first of 3 funerals this week - only one of them Cv related. Today's is for a true 'Browton lass', who had lived in the same house in our village for her entire life. Just so sad that only her husband can be there: her daughters and other family members unable to travel.

And last Friday, another tragedy. A mum, with two teenage daughters, found dead at home, in the village. Unexplained, but she had been very unwell for some years.

The words by Kitty O'Meara I quoted more than two weeks ago (21st March) have now gone viral. Heather, who is a member of our Mission Community and a contemplative Christian, has spent some time meditating on them, and produced a beautiful colour interpretation. She says, 

"There is a peace and hope there I feel. In drawing the world with a rainbow wrapped round I hadn't realised till I finished, there is faith in the purple holding all upward to our connection to the God who loves and cherishes us all..."

Camping

Yesterday, I managed a screen-free day. Well, almost. A zoom session with my colleague, Adrian, in the morning; and a mega-zoom with all the family in the evening. Adrian and I are in daily touch with each other, for mutual support as much as anything; and to keep abreast of all the changes we are managing, including various online posts or video recordings.

I'm glad to say that all the family seem to be well, and nearly all of them still working - from home, of course. We talked a bit about the long-term effects of this Cv crisis: the move to home-working, on line - and how that had been slow to take off, pre-Cv; the seemingly greater readiness of church members to meet via zoom, than actually attend meetings; the greater appreciation we might have of friends and family, having been separated for a time; the prospect of some significant mental health issues in the future as a result of anxiety and despair, and interruption to the normal end-of-life rites of passage. (I think particularly of the parents, whose 13-year old boy died, and they could not attend his funeral.) On a more light-hearted note, also the prospect of a baby boom around the end of this year!

It is natural to try to give a frame of reference to what we are going through. I have already had a bit of a go, by writing about the Unintended Sabbath. Another analogy might be camping. It's something we have never done as a family, largely because Les prefers her mod cons! But I did camp as a Boy Scout (Patrol Leader, Kestrels, 1st Colney Heath Scout Troop, if you're interested!). In those days, 'glamping' had never been heard of. We did everything by the book  - 'Scouting for Boys'! But even modern camping has some similarities with our present predicament:

• it is temporary
• limited in terms of resources
• challenging, being vulnerable to 'the elements'
• being in close proximity to people, in confined space
• calling for skills not often used e.g. occupying yourself without tv e.g. playing games
• appreciating nature more

But just as camping is mostly enjoyable, we learn now to 'enjoy' what we have as a temporary respite for 'normal' life. The big difference, of course, is this is no holiday; we don't know when it will end; and we won't be returning to 'normal'. So I think some of the journeys in the Bible are more akin to this. Take Abraham for example. He set off on a long journey, 'not knowing where he was going'. He would periodically pitch camp, often in alien territory. And there he would build an altar to the God he believed was with him, and whose promises he trusted. Just so, we live with these temporary circumstances, but we try to 'build altars', that is to say put down markers  - meet with God right where we are, trusting him to lead us through.

So the services we have been recording for tomorrow; the many 'virtual' prayer times which are popping up all over the place - these are ways of saying 'we are not alone.' We trust God to lead us on.

Here is a prayer from Richard Rohr:

 

God, we ask that all who are affected by this virus be held in your loving care. In this time of uncertainty, help us to know what is ours to do. We know you did not cause this suffering but that you are with us in it and through it. Help us to recognize your presence in acts of kindness, in moments of silence, and in the beauty of the created world. Grant peace and protection to all of humanity for their well-being and for the benefit of the earth.  

Joy in Sorrow

Sad to say, having felt quite positive on Monday morning, things went downhill very quickly for our friend, suffering from Cv. His name is Paul. Later in the day, his wife was called to the hospital, and he eventually died in the early hours of Tuesday morning. I will write about Paul another time. Suffice to say, he was a well-known and much-loved person within our churches, and in the town community. His death strikes at our very heart, and the shock is palpable. There have now been over 40 deaths from Cv in Cumbria, and our area has one of the highest rates of infection in the country. The loss of Paul will have a significant impact upon our worship this weekend. Our hearts are with Paul's wife, and all who are grieving the loss of someone dear to them - especially as 'farewells' are so difficult at this time, and hugs, like many other things, are in short supply.

Sometimes, a bereaved person will talk about the guilt they feel if they experience joy or happiness while mourning a loved one. It's as if it's inappropriate when one should be feeling sad. Often this will happen particularly if a new relationship is beginning. Of course, it's completely normal to feel this way. We need to have a proper understanding of joy, and why it matters. It's not the same as pleasure!

One of the less edifying aspects of the present situation is the rank selfishness of some people, and the 'everyone for themselves' attitude.  Like the young farmer, who challenged someone walking through her field of sheep, with a dog off the lead. The farmer pointed out the risk to animals, and to farmers who might become infected through touching gates or stiles which others had touched. The 'visitor' said it was their right, and how dare she suggest otherwise (or words to that effect). Such an attitude cannot be condoned.

An opposite attitude might be summarised in something the wife of my old college principal said once: 'We're not here to enjoy ourselves, you know!' Somewhere between these two extremes lies the word delight. If we believe that God is a loving creator who 'richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment'  then humbly receiving life as a gift, and delighting in all God has made, is fundamental to what it means to be human. In the book of Proverbs, Wisdom is personified, and says I was constantly at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, rejoicing in his whole world, and delighting in the human rqce. (Proverbs 8.30-31)

You could even say that joy or delight is even more important in time of affliction such as now. Allowing ourselves moments of delight is one of many ways in which we stand against a prevailing mood of anxiety and apprehension. It's almost an act of protest, or defiance. But it must not turn into self-indulgence or escapism. Our mindset needs to be one of looking outwards and upwards: the mind of Christ.

Here is an extract from a poem which I have found helpful:

...we enjoy our lives because that's what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine...
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not enjoyment. Not delight. We must have 
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world...

Jack Gilbert (1925-2012): 'A Brief for the Defense'