For better or for worse? How weddings and funerals have strayed from convention

The pandemic has changed both the way we live and how we see our lives. With larger gatherings of more than thirty, more than six, or even more than two people, prohibited for much of the past two years, the return to mass events has been an eyeopener. 

For the marking of the stations in life — births, marriages and deaths — there has been a resumption of familiar rituals with a congregation in attendance. After the Covid-enforced rest, refreshed eyes can clearly see how ritual has been evolving in our post-Christian society, away from standard procedures expressing the common human experience, both physical and spiritual and often in conventional religious terms, towards celebrations of individuality and personal traits.

Zoologists tell us that human beings are social animals. Even for a fan of “the cat who walked by himself” like me, there was something comforting about two formal gatherings I happened to attend this week — the weekend-long wedding of a nephew and the Westminster funeral of Jack Dromey MP.

The nephew’s nuptials were a do-it-yourself arrangement typical of the way people, including my own children, get married now. Carefully organised activities, “Hen” and “Stag” weekends in advance now seem to be the rule. Showing my age, I’ve never been to one, even though I am twice married. 

Interesting venues are chosen for the big day or days — in this case, a beautiful, if windy, parkland estate in Cumbria. Often, as last weekend, the legal ceremony of marriage has already taken place privately, so the ceremony for the guests is really a performance. 

According to the British Social Attitudes survey, a majority of Britons now profess “no religion”. Civil ceremonies explicitly exclude religious references, and the same is applied voluntarily by the devisers of today’s ad hoc events. A “celebrant” is selected from the friends of the happy couple, usually someone with a booming voice – I’ve encountered a singer, a barrister and an ex-army officer in the role. 

The celebrant links between readings by friends and family and live music, if there is someone in the couple’s social circle brave enough to perform. Recorded music – a bit Desert Island Discs — has also become a regular feature of weddings and memorials, not forgetting the tune chosen for “the first dance”, led by the bride and groom at the reception afterwards, or the last song often played as mourners exit the crematorium.

Christianity is often all but discarded in modern weddings, but other religions often feature if one of the couple has a different religious background. My nephew’s bride has Indian heritage, and their informal English-language event was followed by a full Hindu Marriage Ceremony conducted by a Panjit Ji. 

I can pass on that information thanks to two pages of closely printed notes in the booklet provided to guests. It seems disrespectful to call it a programme, and it’s not really an order of service. I’ve seen Zoroastrian rites performed after a secular marriage too. 

In modern British consciousness, godlessness is clearly battling with respect for diversity and love of colour.

A funeral in St Margaret’s Church, Westminster Abbey, is, of course, a formal Christian event. Sometimes private funerals and less formal memorials are held days apart. 

A funeral in the presence of the coffin, as on this occasion, can be both mourning and celebration. Family, relatives and close friends came together with wider acquaintances including Jack Dromey’s constituents, trade unionists, fellow politicians and journalists. 

It was a reminder of how long we have known each other. Jack’s wife Harriet Harman was the first politician I interviewed on Sky News, in 1989, on a Sunday at her home in South London. Both parents were then surrounded by the small children who as adults were now leading the tributes to their father. 

Jack only became an MP in 2010, but in a fine and funny tribute delivered by Gordon Brown at his best, the former Prime Minister went back further. He recalled Dromey the Trade Unionist in Scotland leading a protest by sacked dockyard workers and chasing the visiting Chancellor of the Exchequer into hiding: “they got their jobs back, unlike Norman Lamont”. 

At the head of the official parliamentary delegation, the Leader of the House, Jacob Rees-Mogg sat pencil-straight in his pew as the congregation laughed at references to parties and work events. There was applause for speakers during the service. Once frowned upon and reprimanded, clapping has also become more frequent in the houses of parliament. 

The church has become more flexible about the services it is willing to conduct as more and more funerals and weddings switch away. 

Church of England guidance now concedes: “there may be some special, additional things you and your partner want to say to each other in this setting. Some couples have done this by writing something as an additional reading, or using poetry or an extract from a book to say those things in a personal way. 

The vicar can advise you on how your ideas could work well as part of the service.” More personal touches also feature in Christian funerals; there were four speakers in addition to the sermon at the St Margaret’s Service.

The Christian sects have also become more ecumenical. Which is remarkable in Westminster where sectarianism was so long a driver of politics. Not so long ago Tony Blair sparked controversy for attending mass in Westminster Cathedral. 

All living Prime Ministers were at the funeral there of the murdered MP Sir David Amess, who was Catholic. Boris Johnson’s marriage to Carrie Symonds also took place at the Cathedral, to the surprise of many. Dromey was of Irish Catholic stock.

 The Speaker’s Chaplain and a bishop from the Church of England officiated at his funeral in the precincts of Westminster Abbey, alongside a parish priest from his Birmingham constituency and the parliamentary duty priest for the Catholic church.

The effect of all of these innovations is to make these gatherings more about the individuals at the centre than about the communal celebration of rites of passage. 

In the secular proceedings, there is much less talk about procreation and dust to dust than there is in the Christian scriptures and prayer book. 

Some religions got there first; the most moving memorials I have attended contained the Jewish mourners’ Kaddish. I don’t understand a word and, I’m told it doesn’t mention death, but you just feel its bleakness and finality. 

Amidst our rush to individuality, the pandemic has been a reminder of the common experience we acknowledge when we come together. Popular culture has a sense for this. 

A meme now circulating on social media shows Boris and Carrie Johnson celebrating their wedding in Westminster Cathedral’s garden – a wedding for which they sent out decoy invitations to a later date. The caption reads “18 parties, one wedding, and one hundred and seven thousand funerals”.

Without the discipline of an order of service, memorials and weddings are getting longer and longer. When the pandemic is mercifully behind us, my personal plea would be to keep in mind one piece of official Covid guidance: “ceremonies should be kept as short as reasonably possible.”