I went Carol Singing last night. Not unusual at this time of year you might think, but those who know my dislike of carol services especially when it is still a week before Christmas will be slightly confused. Even more so when you realise that a group of us travelled to Eyam in Derbyshire to sing carols we had never heard before. When we set out we weren't sure what we were going to. Some of had hankered after joining in with the Sheffield Carols - a tradition of singing local versions of Christmas carols around the pubs of North Sheffield and North Derbyshire, others came/were dragged along for the ride and so based on little more than a list from folk-network we set out. 

On arrival and walking around the village with the carollers we discovered that this is a group of people who began meeting some twelve years ago to preserve carols that had been preserved by a small group of people in Eyam, many written by a former Eyam resident names Richard Furness. They had met the week before in the warm of the Mechanics Institute to learn the carols and now they were going out in the drizzle to sing them around the village - we listened, looked over shoulders at the music and joined in. Some of the carols had familiar words "Whilst Shepherd Watched" of course and "Hark the Herald" (known as Curly Hark) others were unfamiliar in words and music. Some residents came out to listen or join in, but to most we passed by disregarded ...

We have returned with some soggy words and bits of music, and perhaps some Eyam Carols will be sung in Whitworth this Christmas and beyond. Perhaps we also need to think about how to preserve some Whitworth tunes that are being rapidly forgotten. But most of all if you like a good sing, want to see local traditions preserved and are within striking range of North Sheffield/North Derbyshire - why not venture out to one of the pubs on the list above and join in the fun.

I couldn't find any video of Eyam Carols so enjoy this offering from Grenoside featuring some of the folk we were singing with last night.

and following on from yesterday's offering, an article by David Peel on his battle with cancer and discovery of the Community of Saints

Last Tuesday I conducted the funeral of Alice Bennett. Afterwards I went to the Library and whilst scanning the shelves found a book entitled "after the death of Alice Bennett" by Rowland Maloney (OUP 2007). Slightly shocked I borrowed it. 

My Alice Bennett has spent the last 6 years in a residential home in a world of her own - that strange in-between place that is dementia and her funeral was a mixture of sadness and relief and afterwards we told our funny sad stories of the days when we each tried to help Alice make sense of a world that was becoming increasingly confused.

The fictional Alice Bennett is a 39 year old wife, mother and teacher who seems to be in the prime of life. Her quick death from a brain tumour has devastated her family and community and the book tells the story of her ten year old son Sam who becomes convinced that his Mum is keeping in touch through text messages on her mobile phone. It is a poignant story that draws tears and laughter whilst exploring modern ideas about death, the place we go beyond this life and what contact there might be with the next world. 

The funerals I lead tend to focus on remembrance and allowing people to live on through the influence they have had on those who are still living in this world. It seems to me that whether we live on in a next world is in God's hands and I can not make judgement one way or another. Yet most people I come into contact with are convinced that their loved ones are in heaven - whatever they have believed or done in this life and that creates problems with orthodox Christian doctrine about heaven and hell. So I find myself giving a tentative hope that God's love is not ended by death and trusting that God continues to love and care for each person who has gone from us. 

But Sam, like most people I meet at funerals, wants to know that his Mum, rather than God, is still looking over him. I don't find that I can offer that hope.