There but for the grace of God...

On Saturday our Cathedral was full as we welcomed our new suffragen, Martyn Snow, who is now the 7th Bishop of Tewkesbury  - and just a couple of weeks before, some of us went on a coach trip to London for his consecration service at Westminster Abbey.
I'd not been to see a bishop under construction before - and much of the service was splendid - notably the sermon from Rowan Williams and the strains of Howell's Coll. Reg Eucharist and the Tallis Miserere floating around that wonderful space. We were seated in the north transept, so had a superb rose window to focus on when there wasn't much to see on the big screen - and Tallis and stained glass combined to give me a small glimpse of heaven. There were also comic moments - as when the Gloucester procession was verged out before its time - mostly funny because we all knew how very much our liturgy-loving bishop would be fuming...

However, it wasn't all sweetness and light.

Bishop Martyn was consecrated at the same time as Bishop Jonathan Goodall - who now occupies the See of Ebbsfleet. Quite properly there were many present to support him in his new ministry - and of course, the majority of his supporters came from those "traditionalist" parishes where it remains unthinkable that women should be ordained priest.

Thanks to FabBishop, my home diocese of Gloucester is a very happy place to serve as an ordained woman. We know that our bishop is 110% behind us, and there are women in senior posts - including one of our Archdeacons. Of course, as a woman from the catholic end of the spectrum I've encountered some people along the way who doubt the validity of my orders - but the prevailing climate is so friendly that it's easy to forget that it's not always like that in the world beyond diocesan boundaries. Of course, the harsh reality was brought into focus during the debate on women bishops last November, when speaker after speaker seemed determined to rehearse the same arguments against the ordination of women to the priesthood that we had heard so often 20 years before - but, again, the response from senior staff here was so affirming that the pain of that vote was overlaid by gratitude that we have such support at home. 

Now,here we were in the same space as those who will surely have asked themselves

"Why are those women dressing up and pretending to be priests?" or wondered 

"How can those women dare to attend this consecration when it is they who are splitting the Church that we love?"

I need to make it very clear that nobody was in any way ungracious that day.There were no re-enactments of the "won't share the Peace with a woman in a dog collar" experience which has been my lot in the past. Nobody cut us dead and as far as I know, nobody refused to accept the Sacrament because it was being shared with women. 

(As an aside -this did confuse me somewhat...I had understood that "impaired communion" was one of the issues for Forward in Faith et al - but there seemed to be no evidence of this impairment today - any more than there seemed to be any doubt that Bishop Jonathan was validly consecrated, although Archbishop Justin has surely ordained women during his brief ministry as Bishop of Durham. I'm GLAD that these problems didn't rear their heads -but yet more bemused as a result)

Never before have I been so utterly delighted to see Archdeacon Jackie and other senior Gloucester women take their place in the procession - and when the bishops moved forward for the laying on of hands, it was suddenly (naively) shocking how very male they were. Suddenly our situation was starkly illustrated for me and I realised just how chilly the world beyond the borders might be. 

At the end of the service, we greeted our new suffragen, and I was delighted to see beloved +Rowan about to leave to catch his train - but with time for a hug and a few quick words..We were waiting for friends to join us, so found ourselves milling about outside the Abbey as the cohorts from the "other side" departed.And I realised that the parishes represented there were exactly the kind of parish in which, as a young Anglo Catholic in London, I would naturally have made my home.

I looked across at the parish clergy, in monochrome black (as I was myself)...Some were nearing retirement, others in the early years of their ministry - and they largely preferred to avoid my gaze.

I smiled my best "Friendly vicar" smile (the one that my family beg me never to use when we're on holiday!) at a group of elderly ladies who were heading towards their bus - and was rewarded with the sort of icy stare that makes you wonder, for a moment, if you've suddenly turned into an axe-murderer unawares. 

And I reflected that we shared so much in our devotion to Catholic faith and practice - that in many ways I had more in common with those parishes than with the community which I'm now privileged to serve....and I wondered how I would have coped with my call to ordination had we remained in London.

Would I have allowed myself to listen? Or clung determinedly to the "certainty" that such a call could not be from God....

Would I BE a priest in His church if we'd stayed in London?

God knows - but I'm thankful that was free to listen when the call came.