Choosing Your Celebrant

There was a time when arranging a funeral was straightforward: either ask your local priest/vicar to conduct it, or request a qualified humanist officiant for a strictly non-religious ceremony.

Then came the march of the funeral celebrant industry. This started in Australia, where there was no long tradition of church-based farewells, and where those conducting rites of passage are quite strictly regulated by the government. Over there, celebrants are approximately on a par with our civil registrars of births, marriages and deaths.  Here there isn’t any such regulation and pretty much anyone can set themselves up as a “professional civil celebrant.”

For some the decision is clear - ask the local minister who’s known the family for many years, or contact the British Humanist Association.

However, with church attendance at an all-time low (Church of England Sunday congregations were down to about 800,000 a week prior to Lockdown), most people have no obvious link to a local church. Many of those would not wish to engage a Humanist minister who would conscientiously refuse to allow any prayers or religious words whatsoever. Funeral directors are often asked to find a suitable person to conduct services. Many have therefore welcomed the new army of celebrants with open arms.

There’s quite a variety, though:

Assorted Clergy

For over twenty years I was a local Free Church minister. The time came when I needed a change from the routine of preaching two sermons on Sunday, plus midweek bible study/prayer meeting, as well as the usual round of pastoral visits and committees. Within a few weeks of taking funerals when requested by local undertakers, I found I had a new full-time job. Ten years later I’m still as busy as ever.

Some ex-vicars take funerals after they’ve had to leave their churches for some indiscretion. Others see it as a way of augmenting their (often quite meagre) pension arrangements. Most of us are flexible enough to offer religious, semi-religious or on occasion totally non-religious ceremonies. 

There are those who question the ethical legitimacy of this. In my own case, I believe it is reasonable to enable families to give their loved ones the send-off they would have wanted. The occasions when I can also offer pastoral support and even explain why I believe the Christian faith offers real hope in times of sorrow are a welcome bonus. But no preaching by the back door.

Tradesmen resting their knees

Funeral celebrants come in all ages, shapes and sizes! Some have come into this after becoming tired or physically unable to continue their previous trade. So we have former electricians and plumbers, crematorium technicians, registrars, small business owners, police officers, nurses, teachers, bored bank cashiers; even undertakers. All of them are seeking a change of career.

Some are good, others are distinctly mediocre. Many families will have to rely upon the wisdom of funeral directors and their staff to know the difference. In my experience many “funeral arrangers” (men and women who meet families and make all the arrangements including booking the minister/celebrant) are quite brilliant at matching families and ministers. 

Some celebrants will have taken a course - and there is certainly a living to be made by offering training to mid-lifers desiring a change of career - or indeed being compelled to seek a new start following redundancy.

Most of the main celebrancy groups offer residential, online or correspondence courses, costing upwards of £1500.

The ways in which celebrants engage with families vary. Some (the best) will visit and chat at your pace - making notes as they go. Others may send out a questionnaire in advance - a bit rigid in my opinion, especially when it’s inevitable that not all questions will be relevant.

Unlike Australia, there is no government regulation of celebrants or their organisations. There are in fact several groups, all claiming to be the best, but rarely talking to each other. One of the main problems faced by those seeking to establish industry regulation is that, unlike Aussie, we have an Established Church with its own rules and procedures. In such circumstances it would be unthinkable for a secular organisation to dictate standards and best practice to an institution that has been providing pastoral and practical support to grieving families for generations.

Where I live we have seen a lot of would-be celebrants come and - rather quickly - go. Some seem to think the job is easy: turn up, speak up, cash up! Whilst some may be almost blasé about standing in front of a crowd and speaking, the particular and essential skills of meeting and listening to a family as they pour out their hearts, and then writing this into something that will effectively communicate the story of a person’s life and character, is possibly a somewhat rare gift.

Every bereavement is tough, but some situations call for particular sensitivity and understanding: the suicide, the sudden death, the loss of a son or daughter. Sometimes there will be deep-seated family conflict that requires the most careful handling in order to avoid an unseemly eruption of anger on the day.

The Creative writer and the dreamer

Classic funeral poetry is bad - seriously so! It’s often corny, doesn’t scan - cliché-ridden drivel. 

To counter this, there are some lovely funeral celebrants who carefully craft verse and prose in an attempt to achieve something truly more elevated and unique. Whilst most will tell you that their ceremonies are “unique” or “bespoke,” these are of a higher order. 

Such individuals will generally be of a more artistic temperament: the actor, the weary former English teacher, the singer or dancer with few bookings. In offering celebrancy, they have found a new way to express their creative flair - and most likely, a much-needed additional stream of income.

Some families will love this style of celebrant. They will be gratified by the considerable amount of time taken in learning about their loved one, and the quality of the prose in the carefully-typed  script with which they will be provided in advance of the ceremony. 

Others may find the intensity of questioning and frankly, the length of time a stranger spends in their home, rather too much to handle at a time of intense stress and upset. 

Another factor is that, whilst what is written may be a finely crafted literary composition, its delivery on the day may be significantly compromised by what is a very tightly-packed structure. It could be just too much to take in when people’s minds are clouded and distracted by grief. I guess this is mitigated somewhat by having a copy of what is said to look back on afterwards. But presumably most attenders won’t have this, so what is said on the day is “the main thing.”

The narcissist who desperately needs to be liked 

We all like to be appreciated and affirmed, but there are those for whom praise and acceptance becomes the ultimate prize to be sought. From my experience this will only apply to a small minority of celebrants, but where it occurs, the consequences for the bereaved can be unfortunate and even harmful. 

Maybe the celebrant has suffered perceived rejection or even bullying in his or her former role. It could be they have been to funerals where the minister received warm words of appreciation from family and friends of the deceased person. They have then attended a training course where of course all participants are affirmed and encouraged to believe in themselves as potential celebrants. 

For this kind of person, the appreciative comments and warm words of affirmation are the main thing. This may not in itself be of irredeemable harm, as it should mean they do their best to present a service that merits such a response. Perhaps a significant issue would be the hurt and discouragement they will experience if they do not receive the hoped-for response. But I think also the issue of intensity again arises. 

I heard of one celebrant who may fall into this category who spent more than two hours at the home of the newly-widowed lady. As she desperately sought ways of ending the interview, she told him that she needed to walk her dog. At which, without missing a beat, the over-eager fellow replied: “Then I’ll accompany you.” 

On another occasion, a family decided that the visiting celebrant wasn’t suitable for them, and so asked the funeral directors to engage someone else. On the day of the funeral, the first individual, no doubt feeling hurt, actually turned up at the crematorium and waited around outside. When asked why he had done this, his response: “Just to check that everything was done properly” - as though no one other than him could ensure this.

So there it is. Celebrants come in all shapes and sizes. No one funeral minister will suit everyone. Speaking to others who have attended or engaged funeral ministers will doubtless be the best form of recommendation, along with the expert knowledge of your local funeral director.