The thought of my funeral has bothered me. Not my death per se but the idea that my loved ones would be made to choose the exact and solemn script in the Book of Common Prayer. While I desire the Liturgy of the Word followed by the Liturgy of the Table as the basic structure, I want my memorial to feel as welcoming as possible to everyone. I want it to draw on the wealth of languages, music, versions and translations from our worldwide communion. Heck, we might even dance across the planes.
I have left a list of some of my favorite choices (Hava Nagila, anyone?) in a folder on the altar shelves in the blue room.
So why worry?
Over the years, I have noticed worship at the cathedral becoming more and more formal, dignified and similar across services. I’ve wondered if variation and breaking away from the serious mold is still possible?
Then over the weekend I celebrated the life of Doreen Tudor during a beautiful and traditional service broadcast over livestream. We could even watch from here at the beach. How gloriously modern! When I heard our leader say during the sermon that 101-year-old Doreen had solicited a promise to sing, “The strife is o’er, the battle won” as the closing hymn, I perked up. And then I heard our preacher proclaim “Alleluia! Alleluia!” at the end of his homily even though we have a rule not to say the A-word during Lent. Silly, I know. But this is our tradition. We can wait until Easter. Usually.
So during the final organ toccata, I wept in awe. For Doreen. For all my lovelies crossing the screen before me. And for the shift.
I know my funeral will work out too. It will be a reflection of my life and God’s Love with relaxed rules. There might even be folk-dancing in the aisles. Certainly, I imagine, there will be during the wake that follows. ¡Ojala!
Always Bridging 