Requiem for a priest

I don't know where this morning went, it seemed to slip by un-noticed, although I did succeed in writing a fourth Resurrection reflection for Easter Week before lunch, and printing off some copies of the order of service for this afternoon's funeral. Before driving up to Thornhill, I took a quick walk to Tesco's to get some orange blossom honey for Clare and a couple of bottles of wine for Easter weekend, as Owain is coming over to join us.

This was the first funeral of a fellow priest I have ever done. The deceased's daughter brought along his Bible and Book of Common Prayer to place on his coffin, and I added my ordination stole as well, as she had given all of her father's liturgical robes to the village church in Leicestershire where he lived until he was unable to look after himself, and moved into a Penylan care home. We processed the coffin into the Briwnant Chapel head first to load on to the bier, as is customary for a priest. 

The chapel attendant appreciated the reason for this and promised he would see that the coffin also went into the cremator head first as well, out of respect for a priest's office. Nice to know someone still understands tradition. I had to explain it to the four mourners present, as they were unaware. The service was webcasted for the benefit of another daughter and her family, living in the USA. I should have left the explanation until the start of the service for her benefit really, but maybe one sister will explain this to another later on. One of three poems requested for the service was Rev Eli Jenkins' Prayer from Dylan Thomas' 'Under Milk Wood'. I couldn't help reading it as if I was playing the part on-stage, with a slight old parson's quiver in my voice. This raised a smile and a titter. It's a lovely piece with a quality that's  quite distinct from a liturgical prayer, and deserves the right treatment in my opinion.

Driving home I learned from the five o'clock news of the re-floating of the giant container ship stuck for nearly a week in the Suez canal causing a backlog of three hundred ships wanting to sail through. What lessons will be learned from this major disruption to the flow of global trade I wonder?

An early supper and then a walk to St Luke's for the Eucharist of the day. We were sixteen in church, six of us clergy. The altar on its platform has been moved back to the chancel step from the centre of the nave, to suit the Romanian Orthodox congregation that has been meeting there recently. Chairs for forty are arrayed in a huge well spaced arc facing east. To my mind this is more pleasing and easier on the eye to focus on the altar when you can see the east window beyond the chancel. Necessity has been the mother of invention in the fact of the pandemic. I hope the church council will be reluctant to revert to the previous arrangement once normality resumes.

I walked back, but as I was a few kilometres short of my daily goal, I walked on into the park and did a semi-circuit of Llandaff Fields in the dark. I thought I heared an owl in the distance, maybe in the woods by the river. The night air was mild and still, the sky clear with not many stars and planets visible. Sadly there's too much light pollution in the green heart of the city. Nevertheless, it was lovely.

Before turning in, I started preparing the second funeral service I have this week, on Thursday, in the light of the eulogy and I received from the daughter of the deceased. I wanted to get ahead with this, as I need to track down an osteo treatment for my neck and shoulder which are nagging for attention. Though not very painful, I need to work much of the time on keeping the shoulder moving so that I doesn't seize up. Mother Francis is currently having far worse trouble with an acute case of frozen shoulder. Just at the very busiest and most demanding time of the year. This kind of aliment is very much a product of far too much time spent on digital devices these days. I think we've become dangerously dependent on them.