Death : The First of the Four Last Things

Advent will soon be upon us, and there is a tradition that over the four Sundays of this season,  preachers turn their attention to the 'Four Last Things' - Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell.  Whether by design or coincidence, today's edition of The Church Times carries a feature headed "The British turn their backs on funerals" which clearly links with the first of these 'last things'.  

It seems that in a recent survey commissioned by the think tank Theos, only 47% of respondents said that they would like a funeral,  24% said that they definitely didn't want a funeral while 28% were undecided. 

So far as I'm aware, the survey didn't ask the participants how they felt about being asked these questions in the first place, but I suspect a very large percentage would say that they would have preferred not to have to think about such things. If the British are indeed turning their backs on funerals, I suspect it's because in reality they're turning their backs on death. 

There is, of course, nothing new in this. Death has long been a taboo in British society. Even when it has to be confronted - as it inevitably does by all of us at one time or another - we tend to tiptoe around it somewhat, euphemistically speaking of someone having 'passed', 'gone' or having been 'lost'.

The survey is nevertheless surprising, because during the Covid Lockdown, many individuals, families and communities were profoundly distressed at the fact that they could not say their final farewell to their recently departed loved ones in the customary way. Throughout human history and across all cultures, ritual has played a key role in marking a death and dealing with grief. There is something profoundly instinctive in this, which is hardly surprising when we consider that death rituals also exist in the animal kingdom. We know, for example, that elephants mourn and that they bury and pay tribute to their dead.   

Could it be, I wonder, that the horror of so many Covid-related deaths forced British Society to engage with the reality of death in a way and on a scale unprecedented since World War II? Could it also be that a growing desire to dispose of the dead 'without ceremony' is not the result of growing callousness nor even a necessity due to the soaring cost of funerals, but rather an inability or unwillingness to cope with grief and to face head-on the heartbreak of bereavement?

Again, this kind of avoidance is nothing new. Over recent years we've seen the emphasis of funeral services - both religious and secular - shift from sorrow and grief to a celebration of the life that has ended. There is, of course, absolutely nothing wrong in celebrating treasured memories and giving thanks for a life well lived that has touched and inspired others; but there is, I think, a crucial point of balance between celebrating and mourning.  I always get anxious when people insist that they want their funeral to be a fun and happy affair throughout and that they don't want people to be miserable. I have on more than one occasion said to someone, "Please don't deny your loved ones the right - or even the need - to be devastated by your death." Grief is, after all, the ultimate expression of love. To forbid others to grieve for us is to forbid them to love us fully. 

As a priest I am, of course, biased, but I think this is the reason why I personally find humanist funerals so unsatisfying. For sure, they can be a brilliant celebration of a life and they can use words and music that are a much more familiar and helpful 'currency' to those present than the imagery and liturgical actions of a religion that is totally alien to them; but a humanist funeral can only look backwards, celebrating the past, but with no sense of hope or of looking forward. Ironically, the greater the emphasis on how special the departed person was and what wonderful times everyone had with them, the greater the sense of loss and, therefore, the greater the potential for a resulting sense of hopelessness. 

In my experience, "Happy Funerals" simply don't work. Some time ago I took a crematorium funeral where the family insisted that the exit music would be 'The Birdie Song' because it was a favourite of the departed and it would also 'get everybody laughing'. In fact its effect was exactly the opposite, and most people filed out of the chapel in floods of tears. At least it had unleashed some grief. Had everyone left laughing, my fear would be that the grief had been firmly locked away in some dusty corner of everyone's psyche where it would simply fester until eventually manifesting itself in some unhealthy way.  

Another recent development alongside the 'Happy Funeral' has been what I call 'The Back-to-Front Funeral'. This is where the committal - which is inevitably quite brief - takes place at the crematorium or cemetery and is then followed by a service in church or elsewhere. I first came across this phenomenon a few years ago when I was told by a Funeral Director that this was what the family had requested. I later discovered that it was actually the Funeral Director who had suggested it to the family. "You don't really want the coffin sitting at the front of church all the way through the service, do you? It will be morbid and depressing." If I were a cynic I might think that it suited the Funeral Director to significantly reduce the time for which he required several staff and a fleet of cars. Whether or not that was his motivation I have no idea, but as I pointed out to him later, he was at the very least either consciously or subconsciously colluding with a culture of denial and avoidance. I suggested that his role, like mine, was to help people to grieve well, not to prevent them. 

But what of Christian funerals? As an Anglican priest, what can I realistically and helpfully offer?   

The principal function of a Christian funeral is to commend the departed soul to the God who loves them in death as in life. This by no means precludes celebrating the life of the departed and paying tribute, and the judicious use of music that has a particular significance for the mourners can be enormously helpful. Again, it is a matter of balance, but I always aim to incorporate three elements into any funeral service: thanksgiving for the life of the deceased, the encouragement of a healthy expression of grief and a sense of hope springing from the Gospel. 

It saddens me that a growing number of parish clergy in the CofE now refuse to take funeral services for non-churchgoers. This is contrary to the spirit of the Church of England which, as the established church of this land, is there for anybody and everybody who wants its services. To deny the reality of death and to supress grief is unhealthy both for an individual and for a nation, and  the Church can and should play a key role in enabling people to engage with these issues rather than trying to turn their backs on death.  

In an increasingly secular society, perhaps the reluctance to deal with death stems from a reluctance to deal with the other spiritual questions to which it gives rise, such as the possibility of Judgement, Heaven and Hell.  Maybe therefore, it's time for us to talk rather more openly, positively and helpfully about all Four Last Things, and not just in Advent.