Margaret Nelson went to art college in the ’60s and has worked as a teacher, farm worker, journalist, designer and dog walker, among other things. She’s now a pensioner who plans to paint. Margaret works with Suffolk Humanists and Secularists.
My parents were given religious funerals, as they were Christians. They died six months apart, soon after I’d been treated for cancer. I considered what sort of funeral would be appropriate for me, as religion plays no part in my life. Finding that there wasn’t a religion-free option locally, I volunteered to train as a funeral celebrant with the British Humanist Association.
That was about twenty years ago, when there were few Humanist celebrants. I was thrown in at the deep end, as a celebrant was urgently needed for an octogenarian who’d left instructions that her funeral shouldn’t be religious. My mentor at the BHA, who’d read my CV and chatted on the phone, said he was sure I’d be fine – and I was. The people who’d been close to her shared their thoughts with me, and she’d left a poetry anthology with her favourites clearly marked, so it wasn’t difficult to find lots to say about her life.
Since then, I’ve done about a thousand funerals for people from all backgrounds, of all ages, from stillborn babies to a woman who was over a hundred years old. Some had long and fulfilling lives, some lived short unhappy ones, some were good, some were bad, some died in accidents, and some committed suicide. We conduct a higher proportion of young people’s funerals than the clergy does, as the UK is a far less religious country than the US and the majority of our young people are atheist or agnostic.
I’ve learned a lot, having heard many life stories and about marriage, the war, the struggles of the poor, the achievements of the gifted. I’ve met hundreds of fascinating people. A few have become friends. I’ve done funerals for several members of the same families. Why were they given funerals free from religion? There are many reasons. Some lost their faith during the First or Second World War, when they asked whose side God was on and didn’t get a satisfactory answer. Some were bullied by religious relatives or priests, and came to hate religion. Some, like me, felt that religion was irrelevant to their lives or were simply not interested.
South Yorkshire Woodland Burial Ground
What do we do at Humanist funerals? We don’t sing hymns, say prayers, have religious readings or talk about an afterlife – we think we only have one life. Instead, we might talk about how people survive through memories, their influence in other people’s lives, and through their families. Friends and relatives will contribute their recollections and talk about the person they knew. There’ll be music and possibly readings that reflect the person’s tastes and personalities. There may be laughter, when humorous anecdotes are shared. There’s usually a pause for reflection, to give people a chance to think and for religious mourners to say a private prayer. Many religious people say that they prefer our funerals to conventional ones; they’re more personal, honest and relevant, they say.
Most British funerals are held at a crematorium, but Humanist funerals can be held in a variety of venues. I’ve done them in private homes, in gardens, in woodland burial grounds, council cemeteries, and even in churches, with the permission of the clergy.
Over the last ten years or so, many British people have recognised that there aren’t any rules about funerals. You don’t have to have one but if you do, it doesn’t have to be religious; you can do what you like. Some still have traditional religious funerals; an increasing number choose a more personal, relevant funeral that may or may not include religion. There are a lot more independent celebrants, more from the BHA, and some like me, who work with a small local team. I’ve trained several other people and I’m content to leave most of the work to them nowadays, after doing four or five funerals a week when I was busy.
And what about my funeral? I’ve bequeathed my body to the anatomists, to be used to train medical students. They’ll dispose of what’s left of me with a simple non-religious ceremony. My family can do what it likes to celebrate my life. It won’t be a religious celebration. That wouldn’t be appropriate.
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