Let a preamble be your legacy, too

I SHOULD have made a will 20 years ago. When I ultimately got round to it, what shook me out of my complacency was the prospect of doing it theologically. By that, I don’t primarily mean leaving money for theological purposes (although there’s a few of that). I mean will-writing as an expression of religion. Since — I discover — that is “Update your Will Week”, it seemed a very good time to revisit the fun that I had in writing my preamble.

Here is the primary paragraph, adapted from several historical examples: “I die, as I even have lived, a Christian. I commit my body to be buried within the earth, in hope of the Resurrection. My soul I commend to Almighty God, asking him to receive it in mercy, on account of the Incarnation, Passion, and Resurrection of my Lord, Jesus Christ. Of those I even have wronged, I ask forgiveness; those that have wronged me, I forgive, and ask God to forgive them also.”

A will is a public document. It allows us to lodge something in the general public record which attests to the goodness of God and which bears witness to his grace. As William Assheton put it, in his Theological Discourse of Last Wills and Testaments (1696), it is nice to “declare your Christianity” and show the world the “reason of the hope that’s in you”.

IT HAS been some time since wills typically began with such a preamble, but return just a few centuries, and it was the norm. From the high Middle Ages — not less than because the thirteenth century — wills typically began by invoking God and committing the soul to him and to the prayers of the saints. Some further confession of religion often followed. If the testator was wealthy, provision may be made for masses to be said for his soul in purgatory.

As we’d expect, elements of that modified on the Reformation. From the angle of our more secular age, nevertheless, it’s the continuity that stands out. References to the saints and to masses for the dead were put aside, but explicitly religious terminology remained normal, now expressed by way of Christ’s sole mediation before God. When there’s mention of predestination, the influence of Calvinism could be discerned.

Consider this type of words, used and reused around Manchester between 1616 and 1646 (as discussed by R. C. Richardson in a 1972 paper in Local Population Studies): “First and principally I render and bequeath my soul unto my lord God and creator, firmly trusting that by the death and keenness of his dearly beloved son Christ Jesus my saviour and redeemer and by his only mercy and mediation for me, I shall live and partake along with his blessed saints in his heavenly kingdom of those celestial joys which of his everlasting goodness he hath prepared for his Elect, of which number, through his infinite grace and mercy, I do confidently hope and consider that I’m one.”

RELIGIOUS invocations became more formulaic — although they didn’t vanish — with the rise of the solicitor and the increased use of normal forms from the seventeenth century onwards. Responsibility for ruling on wills remained the business of ecclesiastical courts until the Court of Probate Act 1857. Since the top of the nineteenth century, the opening of a will has often been about as flat and prosaic as one can imagine: “I, [Name], of [Address], revoke all former wills and testamentary dispositions and declare this to be my last will and testament.”

I believe we will do higher than that, whether we make use of some opening paragraphs before the legal material begins, or append a canopy page. After my opening paragraph (reproduced above), my will turns to funeral and burial wishes, and only then to the formal legal wording.

“I wish my funeral Requiem to be conducted in line with the rite and ceremonies of the Church of England, in traditional language, and within the spirit of the Oxford Movement. . . I want to be buried within the churchyard of St Peter’s Church, Rowley, East Yorkshire — since that’s where I used to be baptised — in line with the Book of Common Prayer of 1662, with such additions within the spirit of the Oxford Movement because the Rector or priest taking the service sees fit so as to add.”

IF WE want a very good Church of England justification for listening to will-making, we want look no further than the Book of Common Prayer and its service for the Visitation of the Sick.

There, the parson is charged with the next responsibilities: “If [the sick person] haven’t before disposed of his goods, let him then be admonished to make his Will, and to declare his debts, what he oweth, and what’s owing unto him; for the higher discharging of his conscience, and the quietness of his Executors.”

We are also told that parishioners “should often be put in remembrance to take order for the settling of their temporal estates whilst they’re in health”, and that the minister “shouldn’t omit earnestly to maneuver such sick individuals as are of ability to be liberal to the poor”. All excellent advice.

The Prayer Book’s rubrics also offer advice here which, I believe, backs up what I put in my will concerning moral and spiritual debts: “exhorting him [the sick person] to forgive, from the underside of his heart, all individuals which have offended him; and if he have offended some other, to ask them forgiveness; and where he hath done injury or mistaken to any man, that he make amends to the uttermost of his power”.

If the Church mentions wills today, it might be to encourage us to be generous to Christ’s body on earth, which is fair enough. Also vital, nevertheless, is the chance to let our final words bear witness to our Saviour — words which can be read even after our last breath has left us: “I die, as I even have lived, a Christian. . .”

The Revd Dr Andrew Davison is Regius Professor of Divinity within the University of Oxford and a Canon Residentiary of Christ Church.