I had a funeral at 'the Res' this afternoon, one of the biggest I've done there, with dozens of people standing at the back. The deceased was one of ten children and had seven of her own. She lived in Ely for over fifty years, and was well known in the community. The number of people attending reflected that. A daughter and a son each gave tributes and told funny stories about their Mama, making everyone laugh uninhibitedly, and earning them each a round of applause. Tears and hilarity went together. My role was to bind these affectionate contributions into the funeral liturgy in a way that upheld its meaning and gave the occasion dignity. There's no professional formula for this - it's like acting as a compere or a show host, staying attuned and responsive to the moment, in spite of the fixed nature of the ritual. Mama was laid to rest in a new plot, near the north gate of Western Cemetery, just at the edge of the Parish, half a mile from where she spent most of her life. I wonder how many people of the rising generation of people in urban housing estates will live so long in the same place?
The funeral car dropped me off in good time at St Michael's for the weekly tutorial, and I led a discussion on what it meant to be a preacher in a contemporary world, so full of people with lots to say and so many different and effective ways to deliver their message. Preaching to congregations is one thing, but the vocation of those ordained to ministry is to preach the Gospel to the world and for the world, not just to those who already believe. I don't think the group found it that easy to work with. Yet, it's the kind of question which needs to be asked and need to be re-visited occasionally during one's ministry. Changing context and experiences determine that we are never quite the same, nor those we seek to engage with as listeners. I don't think I learned to start asking this kind of question until I was a third of my way through my life in public ordained ministry.
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