Sunday 13th- the 3rd Sunday in Advent.

The Blessing of Funeral Ministry

Sunday 13th- the 3rd Sunday in Advent.

The Blessing of Funeral Ministry

May Readers find taking Funerals a key part of their Ministry which I discovered for myself relatively late in my ministry. I did a cluster of them around last Christmastime culminating in preaching at Reader Leslie Boyden’s funeral which was a huge privilege. The Covid  struck!  

This week I did the first funeral for nine months . It was at Treswithian Downs Crematorium  in Camborne which has a super atmosphere and the views around  help to relieve the corvid-claustrophobia that social distancing has now ingrained in our psyche.  So spacious, lots of sanitizer and I felt secure in what I was doing.

The funeral was for a lady who had driven Coaches for National Express, loved wrestling and sixties music so it was no surprise that they chose a wrestling theme to enter the crem and Tina Turner singing “only the Best!” to go out.  A more interesting request was playing the saxophone bit from Gerry Rafferty’s ‘Baker Street’ for closing the curtains.  I dutifully sat down one evening and made a file of the solo so we had 38 seconds rather than 6 minutes. It actually worked well in the circumstances and we did not miss out by not having a hymn.  When I had asked about a reading I was told that they were not very religious so I asked, “What about the lyrics from the Byrds’ song, ‘Turn Turn Turn?’” They knew that, the lady being buried liked her sixties music, … so Ecclesiastes it was!

After the committal when Tina Turner boomed out, I strode respectfully outside and waited beneath the canopy for the family and friends who were all very appreciative and complimentary.

I managed to keep the social distancing in the main until I could not escape the final handshake. I detoured on the way to the carpark past the hand sanitizer and was still rubbing my hands together when I began the ascent of the shallow steps to the carpark.  I was still rubbing them when my foot caught in the hem of my Cassock and I tripped forward sprawling across the steps  in a flurry of blue scarf, voluminous white surplice and flying funeral folder.

I looked up to see the funeral party no longer sobbing but trying not to let their giggles show and attempting instead to be concerned. It must have looked  very funny. Thankfully not even my pride was injured – if I can lighten people’s day with physical humour then I have done my bit.

Meanwhile, stuck in my mind it the thought of the lady we were there for striding through the pearly gates in a wrestling cape to the ‘Invasion’ Theme tune.     My she rest in peace – and rise in Glory.

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