Today I have a funeral at D+1, a person whose connection to that church is so vague that no one remembers her.  Her daughter is convinced that her mother went there as a child, and has asked for three hymns (all long, I've missed out a few verses here and there) to be included in the service which, if the undetaker gets their way (they won't) could only be a maximum of 20 minutes.  Fortunately overruns won't be major a problem because this is a burial - in Dibley Municipal Cemetery (not that they lived anywhere near ...) and I am relieved that the early morning mist has just about cleared - a foggy burial would have a rather ethereal or even spooky feel to it, which, given the level of superstition around here would probably be judged highly significant.

What has really struck me about this, as many other funerals I've done in this area, is how little biographical information the family actually knew.  They did not know how many siblings there had been, any stories of how the parents met, nothing about where she had worked or what her interests had been.  This is the more sad, as they anticipate around 40 relatives coming to the funeral - there is a large extended family of cousins etc.

Most of us don't do anything terribly spectacular with our lives, and it is good to celebrate the simple roles of homemakers and child nurturers.  I just find it rather sad that the dreams and aspirations, the perosnal triumphs and joys are lost forever.  Further, it puzzles me - my own, quite large, family is not very close, yet we do know a lot about each other's lives, interests and aspirations.  Deciding what to exclude would be difficult for our family, unlike my common experience of trying to think of creative ways of saying someone spent their life cooking and cleaning.

There are, I guess, two sources of consolation in all this.  Firstly, careful listening to what the family recall and share allows me to reflect the person they choose - and presumably need - to celebrate.  Secondly, even though so much is lost from human recollection, it is known unto God. 

For all the struggles I have in creating eulogies ex nihilo, I do find funerals to be rewarding experiences, a place in which in some small way the love, grace and mercy of God can be extended as people face the inevitability of mortality.

I pray that today the family will find the release they seek and the assurance that God is with them as they move on into their own future.

We have an unwritten 'rule' in my church when it comes to Bible readings - I tell people that if they are unsure how to say someone's name just say "Sausages."  People generally get the drift that what I'm saying is that it doesn't matter if they get the name wrong, and one person did once refer to King Sausages in an OT reading without anyone (apart from me) spotting it.  Sorry, I know, I'm a terrible heretic.

Last Sunday I was asked about the pronunciation of the name of the prophet we were reading - is it 'a-back-ook' (stress on middle syllable) I was asked.  It took me a moment or two to realise they were refrring to Habakkuk.  In a couple of weeks we'll no doubt have Aggie - not someone's elderly aunt, but the prophet Haggai.  I never did Hebrew so my pronunciations of the names are those I've received over the years but I am guessing, that as with Greek 'H's (rough breathings) Hebrew 'H's matter.

I'm sure it isn't really that important, it just continually makes me smile that people who live in a place that begins with a letter H studiously do not sound it.

I think this is the season for back-handed compliments - as we all now know, my services can be strange but not boring, I don't look like a minister and I can be understood.

Today one person who comes to us about once a quarter, said I must have been reading her mind, because following the death last week of a friend of hers she had been pondering questions of suffering.  Another said, quote "God must have given you a bigger spade than he gave me, because you dig deeper."  Hmm, just means I can dig myself bigger holes I suspect!

Overall the service went well, and one or two people said it made them think (which was the idea!) which is more feedback in a week than I normally get in a year.  Perhaps people began to see that we need to break down the false division of church and world and allow our faith and lives to be more inegrated.  If so, praise God!

Just in from the wedding, having left long before it was due to end but having turned into a foal (I am a little hoarse, (groan!)) and having to get up and write intercessions tomorrow morning, it is almost time for bed.

The service went well - it was a happy service, and the sunshine made the Hollywood/Bollywood ending feasible.  I was surprised how many people made a point of saying they had enjoyed the service and how friendly and personal it had been.  It was lovely to look out on such a rainbow hued congregation, of all ages, gathered to share in this very special day.

There was tremendous attention to detail by the bride and groom and a lovely spread with everything from egg butties to vegetable biryani, quiche to samosas, couscous to coleslaw.  The disco began with the newly weds dancing to 'You say it best when you nothing at all' followed by some R&B before a slot of Bangra, the Beegees, Scissor Sisters and goodness knows what else (most of it was more my era than theirs!).

I have never seen a photographer take so many pictures - he had been snapping constantly for about 12 hours when I left!  I have never been photographed quite so many times when preaching before either!

I hope the event brought a smile to face the God, and I pray, as I did in the service, that the LORD will lift up his countenance upon G&V and give them peace, today and always.

Journalling is meant to be an ongoing thing, not something you do when your ideas are fully formed, when the books are read and reflected on - or so I've been told for the last umpteen years - they are a record of developing thought, unfinished, maybe unfinishable explorations, stuff and nonsense, profound insights and who knows what else.  All of which is by way of saying that I have read around 70 pages of the novel Gilead about which people are raving (in a positive sense) and wanted to record what I "think of it so far."

It is certainly a clever and intriguing novel, with no chapter breaks (yet, and a flick through pages suggests maybe one near the end) so it offers a different reading experience from the usual 'one chapter before bed' type of thing.  At the same time every now and then you get a larger gap between paragraphs and once in a while the *** that used to appear in 19th Century stuff.

Recently as part of preparation for a funeral I was lent a DVD recorded by the deceased to be played after his death.  The feel was very similar to what I have read so far of Gilead - one incident linked to another, seemingly unrelated, and then he returned to his thread.  I have noticed the same when I talk with older people who can talk for ages, going "all round Bill's mother's" before returning to complete an account of some utterly trivial incident.  If this is part of the author's aim, then she's done a good job - it certainly feels authentic.

Some people have said this the first 'Barthian novel.'  I don't know what they mean - in the style of? with theology of?  I know, because other people have quoted chunks of it, that Barth gets mentioned in the novel.  What I would say is that reading the novel, for me, feels a bit like reading Barth.  I like Barth - but (or because) it is demanding to read and although (or because) sometimes when I think I've understood him I realise I haven't.  I have to read him in English (I never learned German) and I usually read him out loud and quite fast because, for me, this brings out the energy of his arguments and makes his writing feel exciting (someone will no doubt tell me he spoke slowly and thoughtfully...).  Perhaps it's as well I live alone!!  Gilead I read silently, but find myself developing a mental southern drawl, which again somehow brings the words to life (I usually read in my own accent).

I don't know whether I'll conclude that this is a great novel, worthy of all the praise others heap upon it.  But I will continue to read it, to find out what it has to say and to allow it to make me think a bit.  After Mark Haddon's short sentences and punchy paragraphs (A Spot of Bother) it is a very different undertaking to read this novel - but that's no bad thing.

A last thought (for now) the title of the book reminded me of the old, and no longer used hymn "There is a balm in Gilead"

There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin sick soul

Sometimes I feel discouraged
And think my work's in vain
But then the holy spirit
Revives my soul again

If you can not preach
Like Peter
If you can not pray
Like Paul
You can tell the love of Jesus
And say, "he died for all

Whether this hymn was partly inspiration for the novel, I don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised.