Humanist Society interview series: humanist chaplain, funeral celebrant, and writer Lindsay de Wal on existential care
May 13, 2026
Newly resident in Scotland, Lindsay tells us about her journey as a celebrant, chaplain and writer. She explains how the big questions of life, death, and morality are not just for the religious, and explains what motivated her to write a textbook for humanist chaplains.
Hi Lindsay! Please introduce yourself and tell us how you became a chaplain and celebrant.
My route into humanist chaplaincy was driven by a long-standing interest in how human beings make meaning, cope with suffering, build connection, and navigate mortality, regardless of whether they hold religious beliefs. I began studying Humanist Chaplaincy at the University of Humanistic Studies in Utrecht, one of the few places at the time where this work was taken seriously.
I then spent time working with the humanist community at Harvard, where I saw how non-religious pastoral care could flourish within institutional settings and support people through some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. After moving to the UK I became involved with the newly founded Non-Religious Pastoral Support Network (NRPSN). I also worked for around nine years in healthcare, becoming the first non-religious Head of Chaplaincy in the NHS. That involved overseeing large multifaith and belief teams, rethinking what inclusive spiritual, pastoral, and existential care in healthcare looks like.
Funeral celebrancy emerged naturally alongside all of this. I’ve always felt drawn to ritual, storytelling, and the importance of witnessing lives well. Humanist funerals can offer incredibly meaningful spaces where grief, love, memory and honesty coexist without needing religious framing.
Existential care belongs to everybody. Questions about meaning, identity, loss, hope, fear, isolation, purpose and mortality are not owned by religion.
You have also written about humanist chaplaincy and existential care. What are some of your insights?
Because there was so little research in this area, I undertook a PhD at Middlesex University exploring the experiences of non-religious chaplains entering traditionally faith-based healthcare chaplaincy teams. What I found was often far more collaboration and nuanced engagement between religious and humanist chaplains than people might assume.
One of the central ideas underpinning my work is that existential care belongs to everybody. Questions about meaning, identity, loss, hope, fear, isolation, purpose, and mortality are not owned by religion, even though religious traditions have historically provided frameworks for exploring them. Humanist chaplaincy begins from the understanding that people can experience profound existential need and seek deep care and accompaniment without drawing upon supernatural beliefs.
I’ve also written a lot about the importance of presence. Chaplaincy is often misunderstood as being all about providing answers. In reality much of it is about being willing to remain present with people in uncertainty or distress without rushing to fix or explain things. Another key theme is inclusivity. Good chaplaincy today has to be capable of supporting people across a wide diversity of beliefs, identities and worldviews.
Because the field has grown so quickly, there has been a real need for educational resources. That was one of the motivations behind writing my new textbook on humanist chaplaincy. I wanted to provide something that practitioners, students, and organisations could use.
A good humanist funeral can remind people that this life mattered: not abstractly but concretely, in relationships, acts of care, shared experiences and the traces we leave in one another.
What makes a good humanist funeral?
A good humanist funeral is one that feels truthful, humane, and deeply personal. At its best, it creates a space where people feel genuinely seen and where the individuality of the person who has died is honoured honestly. I think humanist funerals can be especially powerful because they give families permission to focus fully on the life that was lived: relationships, personality, humour, contradictions, values, passions, ordinary moments and extraordinary ones. There’s often a great deal of warmth in that. Even amidst grief, people frequently laugh together, tell stories, remember quirks and reconnect with one another.
Some of the most meaningful moments are small and human. I remember one service where a family collectively burst into laughter because someone had insisted we include the deceased’s notoriously terrible dancing as part of the tribute. In another, a man’s grandchildren each brought one small object that reminded them of him and quietly placed them on the coffin. Those moments carried enormous emotional depth because they felt real and grounded in love.
A good funeral can remind people that this life mattered: not abstractly but concretely, in relationships, acts of care, shared experiences and the traces we leave in one another.
Humanist chaplaincy often creates rare spaces where people can speak without needing to perform strength or certainty.
What are some of your most meaningful moments in humanist chaplaincy?
One of the things that has always struck me about chaplaincy is how often the meaningful moments are quiet and almost invisible from the outside. Much of the work happens in ordinary conversations that become extraordinary because someone finally feels able to speak honestly. In healthcare settings especially, people can feel incredibly isolated, not only physically, but existentially. Chaplaincy often creates rare spaces where people can speak without needing to perform strength or certainty.
Some of the most meaningful experiences I’ve had involved simply sitting with people through difficult moments without trying to impose interpretations onto them. I remember supporting one patient who repeatedly apologised for “not believing in anything” and worried that this somehow meant they were facing illness alone. Over time, our conversations shifted away from belief labels and towards the relationships, values, and memories that had shaped their life. By the end, they spoke with far more peace and self-acceptance. Experiences like that reinforced for me how important non-judgemental existential support can be.
This work continually reminds me that human beings fundamentally need connection, compassion, and meaning-making. Whether in chaplaincy or funerals, I’ve never really seen the work as being about religion versus non-religion. It’s about accompanying people through some of the most vulnerable and significant moments of human life with care, honesty, and humanity.
Lindsay’s new textbook on humanist chaplaincy and existential care, published May 2026 explores the development of non-religious pastoral care, healthcare chaplaincy and contemporary existential support within increasingly diverse societies.
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