Farewell

Barry's funeral was on Wednesday afternoon. It was as beautiful as these things can be. Unusually, it was a communion service, but it felt so right given that my uncle was such a devout Christian - I learnt that not only is he a warden and sidesman, but also the treasurer.

The church tradition is 'high' church (or at least, it's a lot 'higher' than my experience of Anglicanism). This means that the clergy and others helping to run the service all wear robes (and stoles for clergy); when entering or leaving a pew, or when crossing the church in front of the altar, one genuflects to the cross; crossing oneself when certain words or phrases are used is expected; the congregation stands for the reading of the Gospel. I was surprised that the Gospel wasn't paraded into church and that incense and bells weren't used. A lot of it felt odd to me, because my tradition is much 'lower' church - I'm not a pomp and ceremony kind of girl. And yet... and yet...I realised something that I would not have previously anticipated.

G and I have recently been going to a non-denominational, charismatic church. (Ooooh boy, I can see how admitting that is going to open up a whole can of worms for some people!) While we love a lot of things about the church, it's not the perfect church, and I'm not even sure if it's the perfect church for us.

Sitting in the funeral service on Wednesday, I realised that I have really missed the Anglican liturgy. I found myself not only able to sing the hymns by heart (apart from one), but I was able to participate in the liturgy by heart too. (From a practical perspective, that was probably a good thing, because I was crying so often during the service that I would have struggled to read text anyway.) I finally had an experience of how liturgy can be a useful, supportive, encouraging thing. This is not to say that I've been anti-liturgy, because I haven't been; merely that I am not a liturgy kind of girl.

I don't like formulaic religion that does what it does because that's the way it's always been done. Religion like that is often empty and meaningless. For many years, as a child growing up in the church, I would recite liturgy without even thinking about it. When I realised what I was doing, I began to hate liturgy. I needed something to make communion 'fresh' to me, to help me realise what it's all about, why it's such a sacred (and yet secular) experience. I didn't get that from liturgy.

But on Wednesday, I suddenly saw a new side to liturgy. I found being able to recite the prayers comforting. In many ways, being in that church felt like coming home, which was odd since it was the first time I've ever set foot in that building. But that's precisely what one of the aims of liturgy is - it's supposed to make it easy for Christians to go to an Anglican church anywhere in the world, and feel at home; it's supposed to remind us that we are all part of one family, with one purpose for gathering together. On Wednesday, it succeeded in that role for me.

But I realised something else on Wednesday.... right now, my precious Zoe is getting to enjoy her great-uncle! His laugh, his sense of fun, his twinkling eyes - his love of children - she is getting to experience that right now. And he is getting to experience her in all her beauty and grace. And that comforts me too. I miss him, and I miss her, but at least they are together now, and one day, all of my family will join them, and together we will worship our God - there can be no more precious experience than to worship our Maker and Master as a family. I look forward to that day.