ABSTRACT
There is a relatively low rate of attendance at places of worship in Britain, such that only some 16% of the population attend services two or three times monthly, compared with 43% in the USA, 78% in the Irish Republic and 58% in Northern Ireland. Similarly, only 64% are affiliated with a religious denomination, compared with 93% in the USA, 98% in the Irish Republic and 92% in Northern Ireland.1 It might therefore seem to be surprising that a very high proportion of those who die (it was 95% according to Argyle and Beit-Hallahmi in 1975, and I have been unable to find a later figure) have a religious funeral. This is, of course, partly due to the fact that when there is a death in the family, everyone has the right to ask the priest of their parish to officiate, whatever their faith, and there are always duty clergy at crematoria. A parish priest can say no if he or she does not feel that the person was a Christian, but in fact, on the whole, anyone who wants a Christian funeral, conducted by the parish priest or the duty clergyman at a crematorium, can have one. The high rate of those who want religious funerals is also because people find it very difficult to have a funeral that is ‘non-religious’, because there is on the whole an absence of words, though there is an increasing occurrence of cremations, especially, held after the death of someone who had no faith at all, where friends come together to say good things about the person who has died (de mortuis nihil nisi bonum – nothing about the dead unless it is good – seems to apply in all varieties of funeral). And people from minority religious traditions and
cultures often want a funeral in accordance with that religion even if they were ‘lapsed’ in their lives. When discussing the somewhat out-of-date survey figures quoted above
Argyle and Beit-Hallahmi commented: ‘It looks as if, in Britain today, religion is seen by many people primarily as a means of dealing with death’. One might add to that both birth and, where it occurs, marriage, which is still flourishing despite our massive divorce rate. But certainly religious organisations are ‘used’ by those of little faith all too frequently for great life events. In my view, there is no reason why they should not be, and indeed I think it churlish of clergy of all religions and denominations to be so reluctant to officiate at life events for people who have not hitherto been active. After all, it might be a way of getting people involved in the religious life of the community, and as most religious organisations are reporting a fall in attendance one might have thought that encouraging people to come by being willing to help them at a life crisis or even an ordinary life event, such as marriage, would be sensible. Certainly, there is frequently an increase in religious attitudes and feelings
as people get older, despite the fact that church or synagogue or mosque attendance diminishes with increasing age. That in itself has to be seen alongside people from religious minority communities, whose attendance at places of worship is much higher than the British average, even in old age, where the surrounding community will make efforts to get their older people to church, mosque, or synagogue. Indeed, questions need to be asked about whether minority communities actually go to their place of worship (which is often a community centre as well, as in the case of the gurdwara for Sikhs, or the synagogue buildings for Jews, for instance) for religious reasons in the main, or whether, sometimes, it is not rather out of a sense of identification with their community. Nevertheless, there are often difficulties for orthodox Jews attending their synagogues on sabbaths and festivals as they get older because, if they cannot walk, they are still not allowed to drive or be driven, since it is regarded as ‘work’ which is forbidden on the sabbath. That would only change if an eruv, technically a courtyard, which means forming an enclosed space, is declared in a town or part of a town. A battle raged for years recently in north-west London over whether areas of the Hampstead Garden Suburb could be turned into an eruv, with opponents to the scheme drawn from the Jewish community as much as the non-Jewish, and those in favour simply unable to understand the strength of feeling against. However, unless there is an eruv, it is very difficult for orthodox Jews to manage to get to synagogue at all on sabbaths and festivals if they need help in the shape of a wheelchair or to be driven by car. It is also worth remembering that, despite relatively low church attendance
figures (and at other places of worship for other faiths) there is still a relatively high degree of some form of religious faith in Britain. To quote the British Social Attitudes Survey again, 69% of people claim to believe in God (as against 94% in the USA and 95% in Ireland, north and south. More
remarkably, perhaps, 55% of people believe in life after death (though quite what they mean by that is unclear), compared with 78% in the USA and Northern Ireland and 80% in the Irish Republic.1 It is also worth saying that those percentages are higher amongst older people, and drop off with younger people who were surveyed. In other words, though conventional religion may not have a high rate of adherence in terms of ‘belonging’ or church attendance, people have quite strong beliefs, which are likely to manifest themselves in various ways around the time of a death, both in terms of coping with dying and in terms of dealing with the funeral and bereavement. But, despite the relatively high level of faith of some sort, chaplains are
often not the first port of call. Sometimes, people will talk to doctors and nurses. But, in hospitals particularly, rather than in hospices or in the community, some of those important conversations, some of that ‘listening’, for that is what it often is, is done not by doctors and nurses, but by cleaners and porters. Cleaners who have worked for years in one healthcare institution know where people are likely to talk to them and when, and look out for it. For many of them, it is the chance to have these conversations, the reward that that kind of intimacy brings, that encourages them to put up with poor pay and, often, less than good working conditions. Those who have devotedly listened and counselled over the years are often far more skilled than any of our professional counsellors, for they speak, and listen, from a wealth of ordinary, practical experience. Their listening is profoundly kind. Their advice, when it is given, is profoundly sensible. They are the people who will say: ‘You must tell your daughter, or your son’. They are the ones who recognise where doubts lie, and who see patients lying, their faces turned to the wall, as King Hezekiah did when he thought he was about to die (II Kings 20:1-2), and try to help, albeit very quietly. And they are also the ones who bring the chaplain when they think it necessary, or tell the nursing staff, or simply tip a word to a member of the family. But, despite the anecdotal evidence suggesting that cleaning staff are often
very good at this, it should not be left only to them, though giving them some recognition for the support they give, and training to help them do it better, would be a good beginning. It is also unlikely that chaplains will be able to provide all the support that might be needed, or that they would have enough time to do much more than walk around and chat briefly to individual patients, which is an argument for others receiving training in how to listen, and how to help, which chaplains, amongst others, might be well placed to provide. Clearly, from evidence presented at the original Derby Body and Soul conference2 in 1996, and from the subsequent Body and Soul conferences, as well as elsewhere, nurses are being asked about spiritual matters. Clearly, too, it is all too frequently that doctors are asked about spiritual things – though very often they will not recognise the question, and instead will think it a question about the actual condition, rather than about the meaning of life.
