Friday, 14 January 2011

Body of Christ.


I went to a French Funeral this morning.
It was interesting to note the differences. Several U.K ones I can remember seemed to be rather 'in and out' bit like life really on one scale. This was elegant, touching, lengthy and.... freezing. The priest was all majesty in his polar white robes, and gentle voice which echoed around the ancient stones. Unlike me, dressed in black complete with VAT inspector leather coat, most folks were dressed casually, no weeping weeds, veils, or crisp once year used suits. The coffin was placed in the entrance of the church at the beginning while the priest began the service, we all gathered round and thought about the body inside, the workmanship of the coffin etc. This is the bit, when one sees the actual 'box' that I usually start sobbing. The finality of the human frame incased in wood...then to go into the ground or a fire, but as I had never actually met him, and was there to support our lovely voisine, it did not really seem appropriate.
So the service came to its end, incense was waved, psalms sung and many prayers said.
The bit which will become one of those imbedded memories was when the disc of bread was broken in the total stillness...
a tiny resonant' criiickkk'

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