Why Humanist ceremonies hit you right in the feels
- susymcphee0
- Nov 14
- 2 min read

I’ve heard it more than once—mostly (but not always) politely, often with a slightly furrowed brow and a concerned tone:
“Don’t you think a non-religious ceremony can feel a bit… you know… shallow?”
And I get it. Especially if you’ve only ever experienced ceremonies that follow a set religious structure, with age-old words and a firm sense of who’s in charge (usually someone in robes with a microphone). If you grew up with hymns and incense and long sermons, it’s easy to think that depth must come dressed in solemnity, Latin, swinging incense thuribles or at the very least a cassock. And let's face it, my celebrant pal Vivienne in the photo is singularly lacking in all of those things. But let me tell you something, and I’ll tell you it with love:
Depth is not about doctrine.
It’s not about scripture or sacraments or saying the “right” words in the “right” order. Depth, real emotional resonance, comes from connection. From truth. From standing in a room full of people who have shown up at a celebration of life—sometimes in daffodil-yellow outfits, no less—because someone mattered deeply to them.
In a humanist ceremony, we don’t tell you what to believe. We ask: “Who was this person?”Or: “What brought you together?” Or: “What are the words you’d speak if this was the only chance you had to say them?”
And then we build the ceremony around that. Not platitudes. Not off-the-peg sentiments. Just something astonishingly powerful: a story that is yours.
That’s depth.
That’s humanity.
That’s sacred, if you ask me.
And it works—there's a reason that Humanist ceremonies have overtaken religious ceremonies in popularity. Official 2022 figures showed that humanist celebrants conducted 9,140 weddings—more than the combined total of all faith-based ceremonies (8,072) and over four times as many as the Church of Scotland alone.
And there's an obvious reason why. When we strip away the need to pretend we’re someone we’re not—or that the person we’re saying goodbye to was someone they weren’t—we find something more meaningful than any borrowed words can offer. We find them, centre-stage, surrounded by the people who love them best.
Whether we’re naming a baby, tying the knot, or celebrating a life, my job is to hold space for the real stuff. It’s not about taking the religion out. It’s about putting the humanity in.
And in the end, that’s where the meaning lives. The truthful, colourful, wonderfully wonky human story that brought us all together in the first place.
Non-religious ceremonies might not have the doctrine you're used to, but that doesn't mean they lack depth.
Far from it.
They’re swimming in it.



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