There will be no church bells for us…

There will be no church bells for us, no hymns, no doting vicar to join us together, and tell us when we are allowed to kiss. Because no church would have us. Too many miles on the clock, you see. Too much life lived.

I thought that I would regret that too. The lack of the sanctified. I thought that would be a definite damper on the proceedings.

But when she takes my hand, somehow it doesn’t matter anymore, because I can sense something sacred in the small secular room with the women in their hats, the men in their suits, the children in what my mum would call their Sunday best.

Everybody smiling, happy for us, white lilies everywhere, their scent filling the air.

There’s no place more sacred than this place.

And if anyone is blessed, then we are blessed …

And to tell the world – the best is yet to come. What could be more hopeful than that? What could be more right? More sacred? …

Just a simple ceremony joining together two complicated lives.

(Tony Parsons, Man and Wife, 2003, p. 5)

Advertisements

Tags: , , , , ,

About Chris

Scholar of religion/nonreligion... PhD Student (Lancaster University), blogger, singer, actor, thinker... Northern Irish living in Scotland. Co-founder of The Religious Studies Project. Director at the NSRN. Baritone masquerading as a tenor. Vegetarian for no particular reason.

4 responses to “There will be no church bells for us…”

    • Geoff Lee says :

      That said, this sounds rather like a Humanist funeral I went to which was almost identical in every respect to a religious funeral, minus any references to God. I can understand the comfort that comes from familiar rituals but, personally, I find that one of the best points of not subscribing to a religion is the complete freedom to make up my own ceremonies as and when I feel I require them.

      • Chris says :

        Definitely. We are ritual beasts we are… but modern beasts who don’t like to be told what to do :)

  1. Carole Cusack says :

    My favourite love poem. A masterpiece :-)

    A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
    by John Donne

    AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
    And whisper to their souls to go,
    Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
    “Now his breath goes,” and some say, “No.”

    So let us melt, and make no noise, 5
    No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
    ‘Twere profanation of our joys
    To tell the laity our love.

    Moving of th’ earth brings harms and fears ;
    Men reckon what it did, and meant ; 10
    But trepidation of the spheres,
    Though greater far, is innocent.

    Dull sublunary lovers’ love
    —Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
    Of absence, ’cause it doth remove 15
    The thing which elemented it.

    But we by a love so much refined,
    That ourselves know not what it is,
    Inter-assurèd of the mind,
    Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss. 20

    Our two souls therefore, which are one,
    Though I must go, endure not yet
    A breach, but an expansion,
    Like gold to aery thinness beat.

    If they be two, they are two so 25
    As stiff twin compasses are two ;
    Thy soul, the fix’d foot, makes no show
    To move, but doth, if th’ other do.

    And though it in the centre sit,
    Yet, when the other far doth roam, 30
    It leans, and hearkens after it,
    And grows erect, as that comes home.

    Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
    Like th’ other foot, obliquely run ;
    Thy firmness makes my circle just, 35
    And makes me end where I begun.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: