We all say "this ceremony is about you and your dead - you can have what you like". I, for one, genuinely mean this, when I say it....but I also know what works well.
We could get all poncy, and talk about "flow" and "narrative arc" and these are things that we need to be aware of, whether it's conscious or not.
So what are the rules that you resist being broken? I ask, because it happened to me recently and was an enlightening experience. I'm a big music fan, generally, and in funerals particularly. It doesn't matter if it's a comic novelty song, or a beautiful aria, if it's appropriate to the people involved, I say "chuck it in". Music is also useful during times of movement (entry and exit, in particular). It covers that nasty squeak of a rubber heel on the parquet, or the sniffing and sobbing of the self-conscious.
However, this particular family wanted things to be different. They wanted the last piece of music (classical, operatic, poignant and wonderful) to be played in full and then leave to silence. The curtains were staying open, allowing folks a moment or two with the coffin on their way out, and this was happening without any musical accompaniment.
I offered an alternative - would you like to hear it all of the way through (sensible, double-time slot; there was no rush) and then play it again as we leave? No, definitely hear it once and then leave to silence. So this is what we did.
I had been discussing this with the long-suffering one, and suggested that it would be a powerful ending, but not terribly uplifting. I think that this prediction was right (at least for me), although one member of the congregation told me that he felt very uplifted, so it wasn't as negative as I had feared.
This has raised questions in my mind and regular readers of this blog will know that I like things that cause me to question my practice. One of the reasons that I like music is that it is a great masker (as described above). And, in the same vein, if a family have chosen three pieces, I suggest that the most upbeat one goes at the end, as we will try to end the ceremony getting people to leave death behind and turn again to life.
But, really, who the hell am I to do this? I'm not there to tell people what to think or feel, and if they want to go through the emotional wringer, because that's what they need, then me trying to end on a jolly note is no good to anyone.
Now, as with all funerals, things vary from family to family. They also vary within a congregation - some need to weep and gnash teeth, others need to look forward to brighter days.
And so, as usual, there is no one answer. But it has been an interesting exercise and one that has reminded me that I needn't be afraid of silence. It can be overpowering sometimes, but it does provide a place of stillness at a time when folks need to simply sit, breathe and feel. It's another tool to use, in creating the best funerals that we can.
To the family who suggested it, I am very grateful.
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2 comments:
I think that, where performance matters are concerned, we are well placed by experience to hold up a mirror to what people want to do and add a facial expression, or even a few dissuasive words. But if they like what they see... And if it all turns out wrong, at least they can't say they weren't warned!
I always think it's a pity how much music gets lost, especially 1 and 3. As for silence, it's really hard, isn't it? People tend to feel uncomfortable in it, and use it merely to wait. I bet those Quakers have to work at it before they feel at home in it.
This one seems to have worked really well. As you say, a very instructive case. A difficult ingredient to use, but if used judiciously...
Thanks, as always, for your insight, Charles.
Another thing about that ceremony - at the end, after the music, while I was gathering up my folder, bowing, making my way out - I felt incredibly self conscious. Being on show is what we do, but this felt particularly exposed.
All interesting though.
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