Today, by the wonders of t'internet, I will be able to attend the first part of the funeral for Revd Gwen Mattock, who has died at the age of 89 (meaning I now discover she was the same age as my own mother).  Gwen was my 'ministerial advisor' for my final two years of training back in 2001-2003 when she was a well-respected retired minister with much wisdom to share.  Gwen's day job was as an educator in the field of primary education, alongside which she was a non-stipendiary Baptist minister, having completed the BU Exam as it then was.  I guess nowadays she would probably have been an RLM.

Gwen was a Sunday School teacher - when I lived in Glasgow, I knew someone who had had Gwen as their Sunday School teacher in Borehamwood, and last week I met someone who had been in her class after she moved to Manchester.  The quiet influence of Gwen's ministry spreads far and wide, as a teacher and as a minister.

The last time I saw Gwen was at my MPhil graduation in 2011 see brief post here and in recent years we had lost contact, though I continued to send her Christmas cards until a couple of years ago.

I am grateful for having known Gwen, and some of her wisdom remains with me to this day (though I still have several years until retirement will allow me to spend a year lying on the settee reading trashy novels!).  May she rest in peace and rise and glory.

At vicar school we often use candles in worship, especially within intercessory prayer.  So it was yesterday.  The group leading us had also chosen the hymn 'Will you come and follow me" which is set to the tune 'Kelvingrove'; this felt very appropriate given news from Glasgow in the past few days.

The fire in the Union Building (even the Union Street coincidence felt strangely resonant) not only destroyed an historic building, it stole the livelihoods of at least 40 businesses, most of them small.  The disruption to rail travel continues - and almost certainly will until the facade is either stabilised or demolished, and the steel and glass structure of the station roof has been properly checked out.

Already there is speculation and finger-pointing.  Already half truths are being peddled.  Already the myths are being written.

I am saddened by all of this... a building I passed frequently for a quarter of my life is gone... a 'taken for granted' is no more... I have bought my last bag of chips from that branch of 'Blue Lagoon' (an extensive network of chip shop across west central Scotland)... but at the end of the day no-one was killed or even significantly injured, and that is cause for gratitude... the emergency services have worked (and are working) hard ... and already there is at least one other significant fire to be tackled in Glasgow, but it barely makes the headlines.

Possibly what strike me more, though, is that whilst our eyes are focussed on the demise of a beautiful Victorian building, there is so much tragedy, sorrow and grief even in its almost literal shadow... my thoughts and prayers are with the city more widely, and with the Kelvingrove area more specifically.              

Dressed like a 'Michelin man' with five layers of clothing ahead of a funeral followed by 'back fill' on a cold, wet, March day.

Funerals are always pure privilege, and they, rightly, demand professionalism, pastoral sensitivity and a level of preparedness to adapt in the moment. 

If I were to write my memoirs, there would certainly be some funeral stories among them... the unexpected moments of grace or of challenge (and more likely both at once).

What struck me yesterday was the significant cultural shifts that have arisen in the quarter century I've been conducting funerals, with very different expectations in the role not only of clergy but also of funeral directors - and which emphasise the importance of clergy/celebrants and FDs working well together.

Yesterday's was probably the biggest funeral I've been part of, with an estimated 400 people crammed into our Victorian Church, of whom around 150 came on to the burial.  Whilst live streaming of services is quite well established, this was the first time I've seen a live stream set up graveside - the first time I've needed to have a clip on microphone for a burial.  I was struck by the number of phones being held aloft to record the burial, even people stepping forward to film inside the grave... this gave me much to ponder, as a 'celebrant', as a person of faith, and simply as myself.

I hope that the family and friends felt their needs were met, that the life of their loved one was adequately celebrated, that the prayers and reflections had offered some small measure of comfort.

There is much to reflect on for my own future practice - as well as details that, rightly, aren't for sharing on a public platform such as this.     

The idea of live, interactive online worship didn't really exist before March 2020... There was television's Songs of Praise and there had been various forays in the 90s (I think) into television programmes where viewers were invited to light candles or have communion elements to hand, but live worship was something that almost sprang ex nihilo as people discovered Zoom and longed for human contact, even if through a screen.

For our weekend, remote learners, we offer a mini-service on a Sunday morning, just 15 minutes, usually with Communion, and I love taking my turn to lead.

Today I was going to start teaching just fifteen minutes after worship, and needed a rapid room reset, so opted not to hang my 'liturgical drapes' (lengths of fabric to disguise the bookcases) but I did build a 'table' of books which I covered with a sheet of white paper in order to 'centre' my Communion set.  I used recorded music, read scripture, offered a very mini 'thought for the day' and led communion.

We were a small congregation, since attending is completely optional, and several choose not to join us, and it reminds me very much of my 'Uni Chapel' days of old (though those never included Communion).  Just a pause before the busyness of classes begins.  

When people ask me what I like best about pastoral ministry, I often reply that I love funerals... not because I have a strange fascination with death but because they are times of privileged pastoral care that it seems (based on almost 25 years of feedback) I do well.  

On Thursday, I took a small group of ministers in training for their 'behind the scenes at the crematorium' visit.  The staff member who showed us round was amazing - having worked herself as a Funeral Director and for the Coroner's Office she was able to give us deep insights about the practical and pastoral aspects of her work, and also about resilience and boundaries.  A superb visit, which complimented a similarly excellent visit to the cemetery last term.  

Yesterday I was facilitating a day of reflection around end of life, funerals and grief which was led by a Baptist minister who had spend more than twenty years as a funeral director before they were called into ministry, and so brought unique and significant insights.

It was a large group - twenty two people had registered, though a few couldn't make it on the day, and some had requested a Zoom 'contingency' for various reasons.  It was also a mixed group, in so far as there were ministers in training, lay leaders and experienced ministers using this as CMD - a gentle experiment to see whether this is something worth developing in other areas of formation.  I think the answer to that is it depends on both the subject matter, and who chooses to attend.

Among other thing that I took along was my collection of resources around end of life, dying, death and funerals.  What I didn't take was denominational liturgies - I have to trust that people will access those themselves.

Definitely some learning to take forward, especially if we are trying to work in a hybrid format (we weren't really here, we simply tried to adjust a face-to-face delivery to accommodate others) but for a first foray into serving a wider 'audience' I think it went okay.

Importantly, I feel that 'my' MiTs have been good opportunity to think about these topics and that I've done a good-enough job enabling that  to be so.