Funerals and memorial services
No, I'm not in the midst of a depression: we had a couple of weddings at the church in Easter week, both of which finished with the bride and groom leaving the church to the strains of the Hallelujah! chorus. It struck me that at my wedding, I'd want to have The heavens are telling from Haydn's Creation - then promptly had to remind myself that under current British law, my getting married is not a likely proposition (which is a whole other post). I was also conveniently forgetting that my spouse should have a say in the choice of music, which means the one occasion I can afford to be selfish in dictating my wishes will be when I'm dead and gone.
I'm differentiating between funerals and memorial services because I'd want one of each: the first would be for only the closest of my friends and relations, whereas all woud be welcome to the second. The choice of music and readings would therefore have to reflect the difference in atmosphere on both occasions, all whilst remaining representative of my character.
For me, a funeral is a time for friends and relatives to mourn a lost one, something which the music should enable them to do. Many years ago I discussed this with my mother (I don't remember under what circumstances) and she surprised, nay shocked me, by saying she'd want the Dies irae from Mozart's Requiem, claiming it was "lovely music" - to this day I'm convinced she meant the Recordare. High Catholicism notwithstanding, I don't think it's an occasion to shake up the bereaved with a reminder of what awaits us come Judgement Day.
My grandmother's funeral stands out from all the others I have attended for its sheer simplicity: she was a Quaker and as such, insisted the religious content was kept to a minimum. After the briefest of ceremonies at the crematorium, we held a meeting in her living room and buried her ashes over her husband's grave in the churchyard. The fact that barely a word was said during all of this made it all the more moving. While I am not a Quaker myself - let's face it, I'd miss the musical content of Anglican worship - I should dearly like my own funeral to be similar in its intentions. (I have to say I've not given it much more thought at this stage. God willing, I've got a while to go yet.)
A memorial service gives a lot more scope for the ecclecticism I enjoy. One thing is for certain, I'd want there to be some of my own compositions among the music. Of the works I have written to date, my Tres cantiones sacrae for unaccompanied choir would fit the bill nicely: they're all reflective pieces (an O vos omnes, an Agnus Dei and an Ave, verum Corpus) and could be interspersed throughout the service. For good measure, I'd probably throw in one of the motets for unaccompanied double choir which are among the favourites of choirs across Britain, either Wood's Hail, gladdening light or Harris' Faire is the Heav'n.
As far as readings go, I would dearly like The beginning of the armadillos from Kipling's Just so stories, largely because it evokes such pleasant memories of summer holidays as a child. We may still have the tapes we listened to on those long car journeys, read by I forget whom, joining in as Mother Jaguar said "Son, Son" ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. My one request is that the story be read by a woman with a rich voice.
Besides prayers, I'd also want at least one reading from the Bible, possibly from one of the letters of the Apostles (again, I hope I've time to decide from where), though typically for me, I'd want to offset it with the irreverence of the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch passage from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, one of my favourite films. That said, the two should not be read consecutively as the inclusion of the latter is not meant to downplay the significance and importance of the genuine biblical reading.
Let's not forget The heavens are telling: made all the more effective by the recitative which precedes it, a stunning depiction of the first sunrise, it would be my ideal way of ending the service.
On a more serious note, Bill's funeral (see my previous post) is on Thursday morning. From what we were told at this week's rehearsal, he had a clear idea of at least some of the music he wanted performed at his memorial service; the solemnity of the occasion notwithstanding, I'm looking forward to seeing how we'll be sending him off.
I'm differentiating between funerals and memorial services because I'd want one of each: the first would be for only the closest of my friends and relations, whereas all woud be welcome to the second. The choice of music and readings would therefore have to reflect the difference in atmosphere on both occasions, all whilst remaining representative of my character.
For me, a funeral is a time for friends and relatives to mourn a lost one, something which the music should enable them to do. Many years ago I discussed this with my mother (I don't remember under what circumstances) and she surprised, nay shocked me, by saying she'd want the Dies irae from Mozart's Requiem, claiming it was "lovely music" - to this day I'm convinced she meant the Recordare. High Catholicism notwithstanding, I don't think it's an occasion to shake up the bereaved with a reminder of what awaits us come Judgement Day.
My grandmother's funeral stands out from all the others I have attended for its sheer simplicity: she was a Quaker and as such, insisted the religious content was kept to a minimum. After the briefest of ceremonies at the crematorium, we held a meeting in her living room and buried her ashes over her husband's grave in the churchyard. The fact that barely a word was said during all of this made it all the more moving. While I am not a Quaker myself - let's face it, I'd miss the musical content of Anglican worship - I should dearly like my own funeral to be similar in its intentions. (I have to say I've not given it much more thought at this stage. God willing, I've got a while to go yet.)
A memorial service gives a lot more scope for the ecclecticism I enjoy. One thing is for certain, I'd want there to be some of my own compositions among the music. Of the works I have written to date, my Tres cantiones sacrae for unaccompanied choir would fit the bill nicely: they're all reflective pieces (an O vos omnes, an Agnus Dei and an Ave, verum Corpus) and could be interspersed throughout the service. For good measure, I'd probably throw in one of the motets for unaccompanied double choir which are among the favourites of choirs across Britain, either Wood's Hail, gladdening light or Harris' Faire is the Heav'n.
As far as readings go, I would dearly like The beginning of the armadillos from Kipling's Just so stories, largely because it evokes such pleasant memories of summer holidays as a child. We may still have the tapes we listened to on those long car journeys, read by I forget whom, joining in as Mother Jaguar said "Son, Son" ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. My one request is that the story be read by a woman with a rich voice.
Besides prayers, I'd also want at least one reading from the Bible, possibly from one of the letters of the Apostles (again, I hope I've time to decide from where), though typically for me, I'd want to offset it with the irreverence of the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch passage from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, one of my favourite films. That said, the two should not be read consecutively as the inclusion of the latter is not meant to downplay the significance and importance of the genuine biblical reading.
Let's not forget The heavens are telling: made all the more effective by the recitative which precedes it, a stunning depiction of the first sunrise, it would be my ideal way of ending the service.
On a more serious note, Bill's funeral (see my previous post) is on Thursday morning. From what we were told at this week's rehearsal, he had a clear idea of at least some of the music he wanted performed at his memorial service; the solemnity of the occasion notwithstanding, I'm looking forward to seeing how we'll be sending him off.
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