I guess I will not be alone amongst the plethora of priests all around the globe helping people celebrate all soulstide over the coming days. I have never been sure how to strike the correct tone or poise for this commemorative period. On the one hand, we will help scores of folks remember their loved ones. On the other, I will be trying to make sense of the communion of saints.

I have been helped slightly over the last few days. The first was by a visit to our very beautiful Rowantree Cottage, which is near Annan. We keep some old photos there. I was able to remember the departed, from my Dad to an old cat, by looking at the photos; as well as remember those who are still alive, who I have lost touch with, from Ben Squires, who was my Best Man many years ago to people who were there at my ordination just over 10 years ago. As I stood in front of the fireplace looking at the photos, I was there with the people I was remembering, whether remembering that extraordinary day in June 1993, when Ben and I were woken at 5:30am in the morning by Jennifer’s aunt to see if we were okay or of actually seeing my Dad in photos that were taken before I was born. It was as if I was there, although rationally I could not have been. I did this all in silence, apart from the occasional whoops of delight.

The second was yesterday evening at the Craft Club, when I was looking at photos again, designing cards for the Christmas bazaar. As I looked at extraordinary photos, I was there; but in company with others. There was something interesting about sharing scenes with those who had not been there physically.

I am not sure why this all helps me with the communion of saints. It just seems to suggest that the gap between those we do not see any longer, either separated by circumstance or death, can be very thin indeed.

My job is to celebrate this over the coming holy days