Death & dying

A great night last night: went with my friend Glen to Manchester to see 'Yes' - a 70s rock band making what looked like their farewell world tour. Well, most of them are late 60s/70ish and they can't go on for ever! It was amazing: they played all the tracks from 3 of their earliest albums, back to back, and were as accomplished as ever, even with a new singer and keyboard player. Their individual musicianship and harmony with each other were incredibly impressive. It was one of those evenings that lifts the spirits and somehow makes you feel that anything is possible. I've woken up still hearing some of their songs. Must dig out those CDs again sometime.

It had been an interesting 24 hours to say the least. A full 'parish' day yesterday, including marriage preparation session (6 couples, which was great), a wedding rehearsal, a 90th birthday party, as well as all the usual bits of admin, emails etc. But I only returned from Rugby earlier in the morning, having spent Friday with my sisters, one of whom lives there and the other who'd travelled up from Hampshire. We have promised each other to keep in touch, since Mum died last year, and the main business of the day was to agree on a gravestone! It took us 2 or 3 hours but we got there. You wouldn't believe how many choices you have to make, even with something like that: colour, make and shape of stone; inscription, plus any additional design such as a cross. Of course, it was the wording of the inscription that took the longest, but we got there.

But we did ask, 'why are we doing this?' It's a lot of money, even for something fairly modest. We laughed at one point, as we counted the number of letters - because each character adds to the cost - as we could just hear mum tutting at what we were doing. We're not sure she would have approved, but then we didn't need her approval did we? We concluded that this was, first, about 'honouring our mother and father', like the Good Book says; but also a kind of 'sermon in stone'. What we said on the stone would be read by many for years to come. How could we invite them to reflect on the importance of a life well-lived, and the Christian hope of resurrection? We were also aware that those who remembered mum and dad, as much-loved pastors of the local parish church, would be glad of a suitable memorial. Anyway, we agreed on something together and now we wait to hear how much it will all cost.

I couldn't help thinking of Spike Milligan's gravestone epitaph: I told you I was ill.

And here's some food for thought. While I was away, I read a piece about the Archbishop of Canterbury's new evangelism adviser, Canon Chris Russell (who happens to be my nephew's vicar). He says that every year on his birthday he assumes this will be the last day of his life (he's in his 40s). This is not to be morbid, but he believes that facing who we are and our own death does bring a clarity to our living. This is not about feeling you have to do something worthwhile, which is disastrous as it just puts pressure on yourself to perform in some way. Rather, with Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Russell suggests, the big question is how is the future generation going to live? Knowing that I am going to die means that I need to concentrate on the people who are coming after me. I find that both inspiring and humbling.