Remembering past Remembrances

Having now been retired for all of two weeks, yesterday - Remembrance Sunday - was the first time I actually felt a huge sense of relief at no longer being in parish ministry. 

I suspect I was far from alone amongst active clergy in finding Remembrance Sunday the most stressful Sunday of the year, especially when linked to a 'civic' church.  

Remembrance Sunday is, of course, an important and solemn occasion, and it's absolutely right that we should properly  honour those who lost their lives in war. Responsibility for leading a suitably dignified service with a very large congregation is in itself stressful enough, but Remembrance brings with it many added challenges and pressures, especially for the Established Church. 

Firstly, there's the need to ensure that the Remembrance Service incorporates all the essential elements  (Komina Epitaph, Last Post, Two minute Silence etc) in the correct order and that it is accessible and meaningful not only for the Christian Faithful, but also for those of other faiths and those of no faith. 

Secondly, the sermon must be neither too short nor too long; it must say something new and not merely repeat what the preacher has said in previous years; it must honour the war dead without appearing to glorify war; it must be topical and address the needs and conflicts of our modern world without being in any sense political; it should be sensitive but not over sentimental, challenging but not confrontational. 

Thirdly, a large civic service will involve working with various groups and organisations, including young peoples' uniformed organisations such as The Scouts and Guides, local Councillors, and the local branch of the British Legion, some of whom will communicate well and be biddable and co-operative, others of whom may be...... well, less so.

Fourthly, the service will probably involve civic dignitaries (or, as one former Cathedral Precentor friend of mine described them, 'The Chain Gang') including Lord Lieutenants, Mayors and so on. Observing the correct protocols regarding forms of address, seating arrangements and even what should happen with a uniform sword is crucial.    

Fifthly, if the service incorporates the two minutes silence at 11.00a.m., timing is of the essence and everything must be planned down to the last second.  

So, what could possibly go wrong?

Thankfully in the days when I was responsible for conducting a large civic service things generally went well, but there was one year when we had a significant glitch. That year, the parade that made its way from the town centre to the Parish Church was far bigger than it had ever been. On arriving at the church, literally hundreds of people were trying to crowd in and the stewards were somewhat overwhelmed. Sorting things out took several precious minutes. 

Already behind schedule, we began the service and started to sing the hymn 'O God, our help in ages past' (which the organist played at a slightly more stately pace than I might have wished given the circumstances).  Horror of horrors, the clock (which I like to think may have been slightly fast) struck eleven as we began the final verse of the hymn. Our two minutes silence was therefore approximately one minute late. Many of those inside the church were blissfully unaware of this fact (largely thanks to the organist playing the last verse fortissimo and drowning out the bell)  but to those gathered outside, to whom the service was being relayed over a p.a. system, the error was glaringly obvious. 

I went home annoyed with myself and anxious about the fallout that I knew would inevitably follow. Sure enough, my trial by Social Media was soon underway, and local Facebook pages were full of highly critical (and in some cases quite offensive) comments about the Vicar who had 'completely ruined' Remembrance Sunday. Then the phone calls started. One very angry woman in particular said that I had insulted Her Majesty the Queen (whom I suspect was in reality quite unaware of what had happened in our quiet corner of her kingdom) and everyone present, not least the veterans.

I apologised profusely and tried to explain how the problem had arisen  but she was was having none of it. She (and, she assured me, everyone she had since spoken to) was insistent that I must resign immediately or else be sacked. When I pointed out that I had no intention of doing the former, she told me that she would be contacting the Bishop to demand that I be summarily dismissed.  

When the bishop's chaplain e-mailed me later that day, she was very sympathetic and assured me that the bishop had no intention whatsoever of taking things any further, not least as the timing of the City Centre service at which he had presided had also missed the 11.00am deadline (which made me feel slightly better.) 

Although the mis-timing was largely due to circumstances beyond my control, I recognised that I had to accept some responsibility for what had happened and that as the person 'fronting' the service I would have to take the flack. I felt angry and upset that I'd let a lot of people down - and indeed let myself down. I therefore really didn't need the verbal 'kicking' I then received from an unforgiving, and at times abusive, public (every one of whom probably thought of themselves as an expert whilst in reality many of whom probably wouldn't be able to organise themselves out of a paper bag). I felt wounded and demoralised for several days afterwards. 

The following year,  I was determined that there would be no repetition, and thankfully things ran like..... well, clockwork!

Fortunately, my last few years in ministry were spent in a parish where observance of Remembrance Sunday was quite low key, with just a few tweaks to the regular service and a two minute silence at the end (at 11.00am on the dot!), but I had a chilling reminder yesterday of my past experiences when a clergy colleague in another town and diocese momentarily forgot a hymn and (worse) the National Anthem at a cenotaph service. Sure enough the social media knives have come out, and he too is being told he should be sacked. My heart goes out to him as I know how bad he will be feeling and how much aggro he will yet have to endure.  

Parish ministry can be very cruel and lonely sometimes. 

I have to be honest, therefore, and say that it was with a deep sense of relief and thankfulness that this year I observed Remembrance Sunday from the safety of my armchair and by watching a livestreamed church service on You Tube. 

Retirement definitely has its benefits!