Wednesday 15 September 2010

Too much choice?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just too soft for this game.

When I'm talking to a family, I have an idea in my head of the structure that makes a successful ceremony, in terms of flow, breaking up long periods of speech with music, looking after contributors, trying to give people time and space to deal with their emotions etc and leading them, as gently as possible, to the committal, if they're having one, with or without curtains.

However, this is just an idea in my head and, when asked, I will suggest it to families, but make a point of saying "this is not cast in stone", "this is your loved one", "it's up to you what type of ceremony you want".....

I am in a situation where I am taking a funeral for a lady whose husband died three years ago. At that time, a local registrar conducted that service. This means that I'm now getting the registrar's structure inflicted on me, for no other reason than it's familiar to the people involved.

This is not a big problem - I'll write the ceremony to meet the family's requirements even if (as stated in previous posts), I don't think it's the best choice. But I do resist having the headings of the ceremony section headings dictated to me.

For example, I call my last bit "closing words". It does exactly what it says in the tin. It's the parish notices, if you will, the thanking people for coming, telling them which charity has been nominated, giving directions to the pub, those sorts of things. I try to end with a positive, uplifting and consoling note, such as taking comfort from memories of a life well lived, and learning from the lessons taught by the one who is no longer with us.

However, I am not going to tell people how to feel about what I say. And so I did politely request that the final section be called "closing words", not "messages of farewell and comfort". They might not be comforted. If someone's going through the angry stage of their grieving, my saying "she's still alive in your memory" is not necessarily going to make them feel better.

The family said that they weren't given much of a choice on structure with Dad's ceremony, and that they went along with what was suggested. So perhaps this is what I should be doing? I fear that my "you can have what you like" approach may come across as wishy-washy, but I would rather think of it as flexible.

I'm not going to change my approach - even if it creates more work (it would be easier to fill in a template). I can't put my hand on my heart and say that I create individual ceremonies if I'm just slotting bits of text into a box. Being viewed as weak is a chance I'll have to take.

There is a temptation to make this competitive ("oh, is that all the registrar wrote, I can do better than that"), but the mantra continues...It's not about me, it's not about me, it's not about me.

Am I being petty about the headings? Possibly, but much as it's not about me, as celebrants there has to be a bit of personal truth in what we do, otherwise we might as well stand there and read out the phone directory. And telling people that they should feel comforted is way outside of my personal truth.

Ultimately, all I can do is my best, true to everything that the family has asked for (the headings don't really matter to them, judging by our conversation) and deliver a good ceremony, paying the right tribute to their Mum.

Not sure why this is bothering me so much, but there we go.

4 comments:

Charles Cowling said...

Well, I have to say that bringing comfort (a somewhat unctuous-sounding task) is way outside my personal truth, too. It is (categorically!!) not the job of a celebrant to presume to do so.

I have found that, when the second spouse dies, the family often wants another of the same, all the same. It makes writing the ceremony very easy, and I have felt guilty about that; but it's what they want... And it reminds us that religious liturgy is like this: you know exactly what you're going to get; that's the whole point.

I suspect you disliked having to wear the clothes of a ceremony-maker you did not admire?

The prescriptive, this-is-how-we-do-it, template method of ceremony making is clearly against the spirit of unique ceremonies for unique people. It may make the process easier all round, but it does not allow scope for families to participate in the making. But I do not know that a blank-piece-of-paper approach manifests as wishy-washy if it's all about interrogating options ("Would you like to say a formal goodbye? What would you like to say? When?" and so on.) That's collaborative and quite the reverse of "I don't know what you want; you tell me," which really would be wishy-washy!

I think you must make as good a fist as you can of your third-rate stuff, then return, reaffirmed, to first principles! The experience has reminded you that there are some pretty poor celebrants out there - the secular equivalent of the retired minister crem cowboys.

Don't let it bother you!!

Unknown said...

Hello, I came across your blog today. I work for the Memorial Awareness Board, it is a campaign to raise awareness on all issues pertaining to memorialisation in the UK. One of our efforts is just that of choice. Very interesting post. We would like to invite you to our annual House of Commons seminar in November. Please see www.memorialawarenessboard.com or email mab@oneismore.com for more information. The topic this year is Traditional v Virtual Memorials. Professionals from across the industry will be in attendance. Look forward to hearing from you.

X. Piry said...

Thanks, Charles,

You may be right that my resentment was more to do with the previous celebrant than anything else. There's a nasty side to my personality which wants to hear afterwards "wasn't that good - I wish we'd had her last time..." but, it's not about me (or INAM, as I shall now call it).

Thanks for the words of encouragement. I shall keep going, do my best and move forward. No other direction is worth taking.

Cheers.

gloriamundi said...

I come late to this XP, after a holiday break.Charles provides words of wisdom as ever to which I presume to add two points: I feel we sometimes underestimate the power of the spoken word, the immediate, live nature of human communication, even in a grotty old crem.

If you don't feel the ceremony has enough of you in it, if the compromise has been too great, then it's very hard to get that lift-off, isn't it? You know, the moment when you see a head nodding or a smile broadening, not just at what you've said but at how you say it, because it's you saying it and meaning it. I'd trust your instincts on this! Though sometimes we do just have to give way. I might post on this, with an example of my own.

And: I can't see anything nasty in a wish to have people say you've done a good job. Any performer (of course we are!)needs affirmation. I once told a well-known actor who I came across in the street in Stratford what an excellent performance he'd delivered the previous evening - just that - and he positively beamed, "Did you really think so? Oh, I'm so pleased, thank you." And he meant it. Me, the world-famous drama critic of the New York Times not.