Funerals

Before I embarked upon this marvellous ministry of mine, I would have told you that the happy bits would have been found in the planning of weddings and baptisms, with the sad times confined to the planning and delivery of funerals. 

During my House-Move-Sojourn, the thing I missed a lot was delivering funerals. I am something of a fan of the pastime - not because I am morbid, and not because it suits my dark attire. I gain no particular pleasure from witnessing the agonies of the grieving relatives - although at all times it is a treasured privilege to be trusted with it. 

The simple fact, quite unexpectedly, is that in the planning of funerals, I do most of my laughing (in the work arena).

Typically, my means of bring such a service together is to visit the home of the nearest and dearest. The framework of the conversation is set by the need to formulate an order of service, confirm choices of music and 'performers' plus the most important - and often unsaid - thing: that I render the deceased no longer a complete stranger to me. I have to be a sponge for every little anecdote, sentiment (expressed or implied), biographical tidbit. In many ways, I need to get a feel for the person if I am to do justice to their final journey. 

The plain and simple fact is that these meetings are more often than not permeated by much laughter. I have been trying to think why this may be, as I am in all senses very respectful of the family's bereavement at all times. That is to say, I don't walk in and launch into a Stand-Up routine. The laughter comes quite spontaneously, and think it is born of several factors: relief (that the service is now organised), permission (to think about the person who has died without coyness, as that is what I have to ask them to do), the joy born of love (people tend to remember the joyful and the amusing, not the dark and painful), that humans are generally perverse creatures and this is manifest in our testimonials, and most importantly - when we talk about someone who has died (and I mean really talk about them), we re-enliven them. It might be all of those things, or none. 

Wanky

Humour (or 'humor' if you are in the US) is a funny thing! I have always marvelled that what is funny to one person is not at all funny to another. 

Last week I went to see the wonderful (and weepingly funny) Jimmy Carr at a gig he did here in Aylesbury. His style of comedy (a mix, I guess, of observational and semantic humour) is, to me, the funniest in the world. Mrs Acular isn't quite the same, though I could appreciate why some of the jokes may not appeal to a person in her line of work. There were times when I couldn't breathe for laughing while she sat there stony faced. 

Another person that makes me laugh a huge amount is Billy Connolly. His humour revolves around diatribes and stories, and his punch-lines are normally one level or another of invective, but cry I do. Bill Bailey is also very funny, but for different reasons. At the gig I once saw, he used music to comedy effect and it was hilarious. 

As I sat, a couple of lagers on board, suffocating in my full appreciation of Jimmy Carr, I did have a moment of conscience. You may have gathered that I am something of a Christian, a church-goer if you like. I do the whole God thing and I know a little bit of the Bible. Some of Jimmy's jokes were cruel and not suitable for this blog, but I still found them funny. There topics of humour in his performance that, were I sitting behind this computer, I would be upset by, and would be writing strong words - yet in a theatre with a comedian, they were the stuff of my laughter. (I ought to confess here and now, that Acts 20: 9 causes me to laugh out loud every time I hear it - it is about the funniest thing in print). I am not a bad person. In fact I think I am a good person. I think the same of Jimmy, Billy and Bill - nice people the lot of them. It is interesting what makes us laugh. What is appropriate for a Christian to laugh at?

I partly worry that a little of the Christian psyche is to shun humour. There are times when churches feel like the edifices of the Venerable Jorge of Burgos (he thought laughter to be a sin, a 'devilish wind'). If only Christians could laugh at themselves just a little more, I am sure that the church would live longer (note to Doc Richmond of press fame).

The world is a very funny place if you let that side of life in. No greater source of fun and laughter is to be found in our household than the children. Only yesterday, when looking at a napkin, one of the Twins Aculae comments that it was a "large wanky" (we knew what she meant, of course). The wife and I died thrice, and our laughter only fuelled the girls' mirth. That amused us all for an hour, with a little staged repetition from daddy to stoke that fire. The girls laughed at our amusement, we laughed at a funny word. Only the day before (and given the end of term), the same Acularic Twin tried to pronounce "certificate" - the best effort resulting in "squiffy fuck" (no, really). I nearly crashed the car. Indeed, if one of the cherubs is in mid tantrum, I need only say a Rowan Atkinson-esque "bottom" and the moment is neutralised unto smirks and giggle. 

For me, life would be nothing without humour. Life without near-400 children yelling "GOOD AFTERNOON FARVAH DAVID" at assembly is as naught. I understand that laughter induces a chemical release which does us good. Perhaps churches should add themselves to the comedy tour circuits, who knows.