Li Tim-Oi - another celebration

BBC Radio 4 has a sort of religious magazine programme, Sunday - which for some reason has acquired the right to name a new dahlia that has been developed...It is inviting our votes on names from a short-list of 10, which includes Florence Li Tim-Oi. In this her centenary year I think this would be a rather lovely tribute. If you agree, follow the link and click on the drop-down menu to vote for her. Those of us in Anglican ministry have good reason to celebrate her memory.
I just wish I liked dahlias!

It’s been quite a weekend!

If you're feeling weary, I suggest you just move straight on. I'm not quite sure why I'm blogging this - it's not, I promise, in an effort to claim the "most clapped-out clergy award" for 2007. I wanted to simply blog the ordinations, but somehow the rest of life intervened...so here we are.
In the tradition of the best primary school literacy assignments "What I did at the weekend".

On Friday and Saturday afternoons there were weddings – both lovely, both involving couples of whom I’ve become very fond during the months of preparation. I ought to relish every second of weddings, I know, but though I’m now well into double figures of weddings conducted I still find them hugely stressful. The service has so much of spectacle about it, it’s really hard to keep it anchored in real prayer,- and there's the little matter of the legal responsibility too. This weekend one groom tried to sign the registers, instead of writing his name in full as it appears on the certificates. If anything else potentially untoward happened during the signing, I just didn't notice it.
Friday’s wedding featured the small daughter of the couple, whom I’d had the pleasure of baptising last year. It was absolutely right that she should be actively involved i her parents' wedding but, as she is a card-carrying toddler, her contributions were rather distracting even at times when distraction should have been outlawed. I'm still not sure how else we could have arranged things, but when the groom spent much of the nuptial blessing looking over his shoulder to check that his daughter wsn’t about to come to grief, I did feel I’d failed them rather…
Still – no real issues, barring the weather (and even I don't feel responsible for that one) and some great singing from the Saturday congregation, who gave every impression of being quite used to finding themselves in church – quite unusual in these parts.

From the Saturday wedding I drove over to Gloucester for the Ordination of Priests. Awesome. Completely awesome. Several good friends (including one blogger) among the cohort, - a joy to be among those laying hands on them, and I was privileged, too, to glimpse A’s face in the moments after FabBishop had anointed her hands. She was looking at them with the same wondering incredulity that was such a part of the experience for me two years ago.
Immediately afterwards I wrote on the blog…
"+ M anointed our hands, which felt like the most powerful thing that's been done for me, ever. It has somehow turned them into a sacramental sign in themselves, in that whatever I do, I use them and am reminded of my priesthood, a non-negotiable part of the person I now am. It meant that on Sunday, when I stood at the altar saying those HUGE things, I could look at my hands and remember the Grace that had been prayed down on me."

And that has been absolutely the way it’s worked for me. There they are, sacramental signs whenever I preside at the altar, but no less during the rest of life and ministry. Sometimes before a challenging encounter I find myself tracing the shape of the cross on my palms, reminding myself that what happened to me that day has changed everything, that I’m not doing this in any way because I think I can, but because God is doing it in me.

Great sermon by Paul Bayes…He started by quoting Alistair Campbell’s famous comment to a journalist attempting to quiz Tony Blair about his faith “We don’t do God”…and pointed out that God is never something we do, a puzzle to be solved. God is a mystery to be entered into….In God we can rest and make our home.
He said lots more, all of it good – I should have blogged it last night, but by the time I got home from a rather good concert by St M’s choir the need for sleep was utterly compelling.- and the events of today have overlaid the clarity of his message. I’m sorry. It would have borne repeating.

But today has been one of full-on public ministry…the sort of day that picks you up with the sound of the alarm at 6.45 and deposits you in an exhausted heap somewhere around now really! 8.00 Eucharist was its wonderful, stress-free, God-centred self. I love that service so so much, against all and any expectations. 10.00 was Patronal Festival (St M’s opted to stick with the old BCP observance of the Visitation, for assorted practical if confusing reasons)…so clergy in copes and bemused or delighted people milling about with banners and singing “Ye who own the faith of Jesus”. About half- way through the procession I caught the eyes of a family who’ve joined us recently from a nearby church of rather more evangelical persuasion….Spent the rest of the hymn wondering and worrying whether this would be the thing that sends them scurrying – which would be sad, when we’re just getting to know them. In fact they seemed to have enjoyed it all. Not sure quite how I feel, really.
Too many “regulars” away on holiday – that’s July for you in an affluent and largely retired congregation, so it felt a little strange celebrating our common life. Ah well.

Strawberry teas on the vicarage lawn had to be relocated to the parish centre. Less stressful in many ways, but it did deter some of the OpenHouse families who had rightly deduced that space might be in short supply….Still we mustered a small contingent of children for the treasure hunt which fed into worship on the theme of the fruits of the Spirit, and to my relief there were no signs of disapproval from the traditional St M’s members, who appeared quite happy to indulge in a little light percussion and a “whole body Amen”.
Evensong was Evensong, really – some good singing, a fine sermon from J the Reader, but a very weary curate officiating. Then Youth Group….and now I’m home.
So many different celebrations, which I’ve felt really privileged to be part of.
The beginning of a new life for D&E, J &K and for 13 priests , and a celebration of community and continuity for the people of St M’s.
For the curate, a reminder of how rich and varied and exhausting this calling can be.
And tomorrow a new week begins, WonderfulVicar heads off on his hols and I wait to see what will come my way.

A universal secret

Recently, Paul posted this
"Now - here is my secret: I tell it to you with an openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again, so I pray you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. My secret is that I need God - that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love."
(Douglas Coupland, Life After God)

I wish I’d remembered these words yesterday. I was talking to one of our congregation who lives in a rather wonderful Care Home run by the Sisters of Nazareth here in CK.. The majority of the residents are elderly, and several suffer from dementia, which my friend finds very distressing at times. Together we were reflecting on the awfulness of Alzheimer’s, the way it strips away the reference points that give a sense of self, the heartbreak of watching someone you love vanish slowly, while their beloved shell remains. Inevitably we began ask one another where we found God in all this. We wanted to make some sense of it all, and our attempts felt increasingly inadequate – band-aids applied to staunch a haemorrhage of pain. Try as we might, we could not arrive at a nice tidy conclusion that felt good, so in the end we decided we had no option but to live with the mystery.But in our conversation, I was aware of something nudging away at the edges of my mind, a sense that for me rock-bottom has always been a good place to look for God. I tried to articulate that, but my friend’s experience had been rather different and she imagined that the world of dementia might be equally cold, dark and lonely.
Coupland’s secret, which seems to me pretty well universal, might give us another perspective. When we’re unable to do anything for ourselves, when we are utterly helpless in every respect, God will act in us and for us. That’s so hard for us to accept. We long to hang on to autonomy, to the illusion that we are able to go it alone. And as long as we can almost cope, we can fool ourselves into thinking we’re in charge, that we are capable of independent life, not just independent existence. We fight to resist God’s boundless love, standing defiant like so many Canutes while all the time it sweeps towards us in a vast and unstoppable tide. Maybe those whose personalities have disappeared, who seem to spend their days in empty darkness are actually in a stronger position than we are, when we try to go it alone. Maybe we shouldn’t attempt to keep our need of God secret.. The less there is of me, the more space there is for God to fill….

Peter and Paul

I’m so glad they were both called, these men of faith and passion, who came to understand that nothing in life mattered as much as the good news they'd been trusted to proclaim.

They were so very different.
Peter the fisherman, the rough diamond, quick to love and to condemn, not so much rock-like as rocky, prey to his feelings in a way that I recognise all too well. Peter, the one who ran away.
Paul the Pharisee, versed in each nuance of the Law, relentless in pursuit of anything that threatened the supremacy of his unquestioned truths. The one whose life was turned around in an shining instant that has become a by-word for conversion.

Neither of them got it "right" (I nearly said "neither of them were saints"- a reflection on the prevlailing unreality of some concepts of holiness) , though they both saw and recognised the truth of Christ and lived out its implications as they could.
Both of them erred, repented, erred again, but they became the founding fathers…the ones through whom God put the Kingdom firmly on the map.

God used them, despite (or because of ) their weaknesses…Just as he uses us.

Almighty God, whose blessed apostles, Peter and Paul
glorified you in their death as in their life:
grant that your Church
Inspired by their teaching and example,
and made one by your Spirit,
may ever stand firm upon the one foundation,
Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and forever.

A break from saints...

or "at last someone understands"


Thanks to John for posting this on his blog. It's quite simply perfect.

A good month for saints

Today the church remembers Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons and teacher of the faith...Not someone we focus on every day, but still pretty significant, - and not simply because he provides a pretty clear link, through Polycarp ( whom he had heard preaching during his childhood in Smyrna) with the apostle John (who had apparently preached to Polycarp). (This bit rather reminds me of my childhood piano-teacher, whose piano teacher had been a pupil of a pupil of Chopin - which seemed in her eyes to make me a kind of great-great- grandchild of Chopin).Irenaeus was equally proud of his pedigree as a teacher, and as a priest and bishop - and on the strength of it was an early proponent of the apostolic succession

As a theologian, he spent much of his time contending with the gnostics, whose world view taught that since the material world was dark, corrupt, evil it could have nothing to do with God.
"How can the perfect produce the imperfect, the infinite produce the finite, the spiritual produce the material?" they asked.
Logically, this view also meant that Christ could not have truly and fully taken on human flesh, but simply appeared to have done so, like the avatar of a Hindu god. Of course, if Jesus was not really born he equally did not really suffer or die, but merely appeared to do so - so the resurrection becomes a bit of a non-issue too.
Definitely not good news.
In contrast to this, Irenaeus asserted the reality of the Incarnation

"God became what we are, to make us what he is" . or, if you prefer
"The Word became flesh and lived among us"

I doubt if he was at even the back of Joan Osborne's mind when she wrote her song, but you could certainly say that they sang from the same hymn book!

If God had a name, what would it be?
And would you call it to His face
If you were faced with Him in all His glory?
What would you ask if you had just one question?

What if God were one of us? Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus Trying to make his way home?

If God had a face, what would it look like?
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like Heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
And all the Prophets?

What if God were one of us? Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on the bus Trying to make his way home?

I can almost see Irenaeus nodding sagely, as he agreed "That's just the way it is".

Rites of passage

Yesterday Hugger Steward sat his last A level and, apart from the Music Department residential in a couple of weeks, has finally and definitively left school.
2/3 of my family more or less grown up. Help!

The day before, LCM and I drove over to Oxford where a really very small sum of money changed hands , and we drove home in convoy, with what will officially be Hattie Gandhi's car.
In real life, I suspect that I'll probably continue to lend her mine whenever she wants to travel any distance, as at 21 years old, the "new" car is probably best kept off the motorways...but that's fine. Despite age and size, the baby car is really fun to drive, putting me in mind of my much loved and lamented 2CVs. So, as my children become more grown up by the day, their mother is rather enjoying reliving her youth.

Mind you, there are some things I need to relearn.

1)Elderly cars need their lights turned off when you park. Removing the ignition key is not in itself enough.
2)And the day of torrential rain and serious flooding is perhaps not the best one on which to need the RAC twice in the space of an hour (nothing seriously wrong with the car...just issues with the driver and the weather).
3) I've forgotten how to make a wire coathanger do the work of a radio arial (and there sure as heck isn't a CD option here)

But it's lovely that I can now say "yes" if HG wants to go travelling, without having to tear my hair out over the impact on my diary. It's good, too, that she can start to build up a no claims bonus of her very own. The "young driver" loading that insurance companies apply makes the cost of driving almost prohibitive; the annual premium for 3rd Party cover is nearly 3 times the value of the car. Ouch.

I'm very uncomfortable about the fact that we are , if only for a season, a 3 car family . I feel that our global footprint is beginning to resemble that of BigFoot, though I'll continue to cycle most places about the parish. But even a long suffering clockmaker cannot carry clocks in a bike basket, and most of the places that HG needs to go have pretty impossible public transport...so they need cars...and I'm too used to having one to sort out the complications if I didnt.
So here we are...moderately repentent but not able to see a more workable solution right now.
In any case, baby car represents freedom - surely an important part of being young in the summer time.

Do you recognise anyone here?

Yesterday's session of the Spir Dir course was, incredibly, the penultimate one. That means that 26 weeks have passed - which I find very difficult indeed to absorb. I've really enjoyed the work, and the people - though there has been some difficult stuff dredged up in the process, which I'd probably have preferred to let lie ("An avoider? me?? la la la...what a lovely day....look at those fluffy white clouds over there").
One way and another I've certainly benefitted hugely - and I hope that those whom I see for direction will benefit too,- since that's the point of the whole thing.

Yesterday amid the heavy stuff we were given a sheet which described caricatures of various styles of spiritual director....It might be copyright, so I'd best not post the whole thing much though I'd like to, but as was intended I recognised some of these tendencies in myself,- and one or two others made me giggle inordinately too.

Choose from the following selection while stocks last - probably buy one, get one free...

Blind Man's Buff - or "Your guess is as good as mine". The basis is to cover your tracks by avoiding any impression of expertise

The Agony Aunt - or "Lay your burdens upon me". The basis is that the director is there to "answer" or "solve" problems whether moral, psychological, emotional, intellectual or practical.

And I will raise them up - or "The art of coarse Messianism". The basis is a belief that the director must be the one to help this soul in need, to lift their burdens and save the world alone.

Never mind the quality - feel the width - or "the bluffers guide to spiritual conversation. The basis is that if I talk for long enough people seem to go away happy.

The Black Hole - or "it's hell but it's home". The basis is "don't expect any light. It it's painful it must be doing you good."

(Important note - none of the wonderful people who've had the dubious pleasure of directing me show any of these tendencies. I couldn't even guess which ones they might have to battle with.)

Thoughts on icons

In her comment the post below, Mary asked what John might be holding. I've hunted online for readings of this icon, but can't actually find it at all (the picture I posted was a photo of the card I borrowed for prayer). Maybe there should be a prize for the most original suggestion as to what that black thing is, though it would be hard to better Mary's suggestion of a bag of vipers. You never know when those might come in handy to support a bit of proclamation in the wilderness.

What I found interesting, though, was the fact that I simply didn't take in that bag (?) at all when using the icon. I was aware of something black and possibly folded, of course, but simply passed over it, thinking, if I saw it at all, that it was just part of John's garment.
Instead, I saw what I needed to see, which appeared to be an outstretched hand, not grasping anything...letting it all go.
I hadn't thought my time with the icon that fruitful when I first reviewed it, but in the week since it has thrown up all sorts of riches. They really are powerful things - I should try to use them more often.

The record of John

One way and another, I seem to have spent quite alot of time with John the Baptist recently, which makes it the more ironic that his birthday feast was pushed out of our calendar by the Youth Group celebration this morning.

Though actually,being pushed out of the way is very much what he's about.

I encountered this icon of him last Monday on the SpirDir course, and spent a fruitful (if demanding) time praying with it. As one who struggles constantly in ministry with the paradox of needing to be fully there and fully myself, yet transparent and leaving the way clear, John the Baptist feels like quite a good patron.

Ironically, when we were living in Great Rissington and he was indeed our church's patron, I didn't appreciate him at all - but now I can't think of a much better prayer for life and ministry than John's reflection on the coming Christ.
"He must increase, and I must decrease."
The John that I used to reflect then on was a rather alarming figure...a warm- up man who seemed intent on alienating the crowds -"You generation of vipers" is hardly the best approach if you want to win friends and influence people...He seemed alien, remote, voicing a challenge that was too frightening to be entertained.
But then, and now, I was drawn to his passion. "A burning and shining lamp"...pointing the way to Jesus...
Yes, I could go with that



Almighty God, by whose providence your servant John the Baptist was wonderfully born, and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Savior by preaching repentance: Make us so to follow his teaching and holy life, that we may truly repent according to his preaching; and, following his example, constantly speak the truth, boldly rebuke vice, and patiently suffer for the truth's sake; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Sunday Cake blogging revisited

Considering that the cake was baked at around 1.30 am. and decorated as the dawn chorus got under way, its looked pretty good, and managed to feed the whole of the 10.00 congregation - who appeared more than satisfied.

Happy Birthday, Youth Groups!

We want to see Jesus lifted high!

Youth Group birthday weekend once more...the culmination of weeks and weeks of preparation and creativity from members of Koinonia, who'd put together a Eucharist on the theme
"Come together...we are all one in Christ"
We felt that we were going out on a limb with this one a bit. The whole liturgy was led as well as written by the group, and took place within the context of a drama - itself a morning service in the village of "Charlton Queens", where punks and PCC members have come to worship but are, unsurprisingly, not seeing eye to eye.
All the building blocks of the Eucharist were there, but presented rather differently.
For me, the highlights were the silent intercessions, reflecting on images of situations that badly need prayer
The privilege of consecrating and breaking the beautiful loaf that was made during last night's sleepover
And the sheer joy of sharing in singing "We want to see Jesus lifted high" with the kids out front and the congregation sharing in the actions, if not the singing, by way of a recessional.
There were lots of smiley faces at the church door, but also comments on the depth and spirituality of the service.
Thank you, God, for meeting us all this morning, in the anxiety, in the laughter, in one another and in the breaking of the bread.


(mgbf and co - I'll put the rest of the photos on flickr later....a bit rushed now)

Happy feast day, St Alban

When I arrived for the 7.30 Eucharist this morning, I'll admit I'd forgotten St Alban.
So, apparently, had most other people.
The frontal was still green, and when I looked in the service book, Alban only featured as a lesser festival. Rather a shame, that, as he is the first British saint and martyr, and it's been suggested that he might make a better national patron that the semi-legendary St George.
Alban won his martyrs crown by putting himself in the place of a Christian priest whom he had been sheltering from the Romans. His martyrdom was accompanied by the usual crop of miracles, which in themselves tend to diminish the impact on 21st century rationalists (though reading his story as chronicled by Bede is a splendid experience).

What strikes me about his story, though, is the fact that in itself his gesture was futile. Amphibalus, the priest he tried to shelter was still executed. His first convert, the executioner who was so impressed by Alban's witness that he declined to do his work, was put to death immediately afterwards. The whole brief story of Alban's life of faith began in fear and ended in bloodshed - and yet, he is remembered and venerated 1800 years after his death, simply because he had fully understood the nature of worship,and refused to put anyone or anything else in the place properly belonging to God.
He told the local magistrate
"I worship and adore the true and living God who created all things" - a piece of daring that condemned him to be sacrificed before the Roman gods...but by his death he shouted into their darkness that there was a better, truer way of being, in relationship to a God who desired mercy and not sacrifice.
I suspect (and hope) there's not much chance of my ever needing his physical courage. Probably not much chance of my ever attaining his shining faith. But perhaps I might aspire to his clarity of vision, so that I could come to recognise that there is actually nothing that matters more than putting God in the place where God belongs.

Eternal Father,
when the gospel of Christ first came to our land
you gloriously confirmed the faith of Alban
by making him the first to win a martyr's crown:
grant that, following his example,
in the fellowship of the saints
we may worship you, the living God,
and give true witness to Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

More tales of the interrupted

Yesterday's CME wasn't the only thing I've had to leave after only part of the programme this week. On Sunday our PCC met for lunch and an "away day" discussion on vision and strategy for the next three or four years. In part their discussion was informed by the new Diocesan Vision Statement*. The PCC focussed much more on nuts and bolts, starting the afternoon with a brainstorm of things that St M's does well, and those that it finds harder.
Really interesting stuff (specially noticing that some of the same items appear on both lists). Once again, I had to leave at this point, so I just don't know if they explored again what they understand the church to be for, - but judging by the papers that have emerged there was an hopeful focus on prayer, and also an anxiety around communication and inclusion. It was noticed that only a very small minority feel "brave" enough to join us as we pray the office, and we were speculating about why that might be so, wondering if the concept of "safety in numbers" applies here. I'm sure that many, not just at St M's, struggle with the interface between private and public prayer, and feel insecure in a situation that might seem to be not quite either. Late last night I read this over at Michael's place, and found it a really helpful focus around which to collect my own thoughts about a future church community, and reflections on the here and now.
This was the crunch part for me - as I try to work out ways to be "both/and"...

"Emerging generations long to experience authentic community. They crave to be in a smaller worshipping community where they can have ownership, deeply share their lives (the good and the bad), ask hard questions, and struggle with less than definite answers.'

I reckon everyone involved in what we're growing here in Gloucester would sign up to these words. As we've begun to experience 'small' worshipping community, and realised that there's nowhere to 'hide', that there's no consuming, only participating, I think we've all begun to realise that although there's a cost involved, it's a cost that comes with a generous payback.

The first part comes from Emerging Worship, the next is Michael's own reflections. "Nowhere to hide" would be hard for many people in my congregation, I suspect, though it would be wonderful to make them feel so aware of their value that hiding simply wasn't on the agenda.
Ah well, I guess I may just have to buy Dan Kimball's book - quoting it on the blog twice in a week seems to suggest it needs reading!
(Note to self; possibly read everything else in the queue first? Just an idea...)



*This doesn't yet seem to be online. It's certainly a worthwhile document, but one which errs slightly on the side of motherhood and apple pie, in that it would be very hard to argue against any element of it...my anxiety is that it might just allow everyone to sit back and say "Isn't it lovely. The church in Gloucester diocese stands for all these things. We're so glad to be part of it" - which really isn't the point, is it?)

Dreaming dreams (Endings and beginnings part 2)

Our first session focussed on practical stuff around our need to address issues from our curacies that might lead to excess baggage carried on into our new ministries (once again, I'm envious of the CPE programme that seems to be a standard element in ordination training for most of my transAtlantic friends), and suggestions as to how we might retain the inbuilt reflection and support that regular CME has provided for us over the past 3 years. One suggestion I liked was to diary in a day each month that might be a “reading day” one month, a space for reflection and review the next or simply a quiet day without agenda, if that seemed to be the greatest need.
We were reminded of the importance of creating our own support networks, specially if we find ourselves in splendid isolation after the intrinsic collegiality of curacy (though I missed the session on looking after ourselves in ministry - which means that my present dubious practice on this front might just remain unchallenged).

Then we got the chance to dream.
The core question, designed to help our discernment about what direction we might be called in next, was “What is the church for?”
Brainstorming, we produced a huge variety of answers
that
church is a process more than an entity
Herbert’s “The reduction of man to the obedience of God”
Robin Greenwood’s “practising community”…
discipleship
Worship (where this is defined as everything that affirms God's proper place in the created order)
To keep the rumours of God alive
To live the Gospel and enable others to do so (these 2 were my contributions)
Holiness, hope, hospitality and honouring (the 3 point evangelical sermon in a new guise, except that I really like these ideas)
To provide words and rituals to filter and make safe awesome religious experiences
("we needed the priest to tell the words where to go")

We went on to play with our own personal description of the purpose of Church - for me it was something around
"Demonstrating to the community that they are loved and precious to God, and enabling their response to this" (ie. social action and the Eucharist.)
Once again I realised the important influence of St John the Divine Kennington, where I worshipped in my early 20s. My one line description seemed to connect back directly to my experience of church there...clearly you can take girl out of the UPA parish but definitely not vice versa.

We were challenged to develop our dreams as we imagined their practical outworkings, and what and who we would need to engage with to make this vision a priority in our current context. Demanding and exciting.
Such a shame I had to leave at lunchtime...

Beginnings and Endings part 1

I know, I know, - I promised a post on Timothy Radcliffe – and it was such a wonderful book I simply have to write it up soon.
But in the meantime, life has been distinctly busy, and some of that deserves blogging too.

Today was that CME training about which there was fairly substantial muddle, chronicled in the grumps of last week.
As a result I could only go to the first part of the proceedings, - but it was still eminently worthwhile.
Aimed at those of us who will be on the move in the next few months, it was held at Holland House, -the place I last visited on retreat before my diaconal ordination – the retreat which first introduced me to DH’s inspirational teaching.
It was quite lovely to be back in that chapel, where I’d heard words that have stayed with me ever since…to see the piano that I played quietly, praying through the music, on the Saturday evening when we returned a small, subdued group, from the ordination of the new priests who had been our retreat companions. Our ordination as deacons would take place the next morning, and we were fearful and excited, both conscious of the demands that would arrive next day, happy that this phase of our journey was almost over, totally unaware of what would really lie ahead..


In fact it was the perfect place to look back on the gifts and challenges of the past 3 years, recognising that experiences in curacy will shape our sense of vocation in the next phase (either in terms of seeking more of the same, or possibly its exact antithesis). We were a mixed group from 3 dioceses. One of us has secured a post already, and begins work in prison chaplaincy in just a few weeks, but the majority are, like me, simply beginning to ponder.
The input today was designed to make our reflections more profitable, and I've got lots to say as a result.
But not right now.
I was up till 2.30 this morning, sorting papers for the clergy tax advisor (hooray, -that's one hurdle cleared for a whole year) and powerpoint for a talk on India, so right now I simply want to reflect on the joy of a comfortable bed.

It's Fathers' Day

and also the 29th anniversary of my father's death. Back in 1978, he died on a Saturday, and Fathers' Day was the following day. Somehow, that particular celebration has never loomed large in our family consciousness since then.
I've blogged about my father here so often that I don't want to add more this year, but simply to say that I'm glad the blog allows me a space to remember and be thankful. And I am. So very thankful.

This year I'm also grateful to J, because from now on 17th June won't just be "the day Daddy died" but also "the day that J became a Canon".
Losing both parents before I was an adult means that there are all sorts of bits of my life that I can't share with them, so many people I'd have loved them to know. Whenever my children achieve something particularly whizzy, I mind that I can't phone my parents to crow.
Whenever my children are struggling and I long to fix unfixable things, I want to turn to my father- who never had to deal with a daughter growing into situations beyond his control....so that, for me, he remains forever the solution to all my teenage problems.

And on days like today, I just wish that my parents could meet and enjoy some of the people I'm blessed to count as friends. I still don't know what my rather traditional father would have made of my ordination (though he had the courage to outrage his lifelong conservative family by voting first Socialist and then Liberal, so perhaps all would have been well). I like to think he would have approved once the first shock had worn off. And I hope that today he has been cheering J as she gave me something quite different to think about on what has for too long been a rather regretful day.

After J's party, I spent an hour with a woman in hospital for whom today was also a significant anniversary. As we talked about love and loss, about death and resurrection hope I was so conscious of the way our stories weave into God's bigger picture...and for a few moments, I almost glimpsed it.
This is the most amazing calling. From Cathedral to party, to hospital bed, to wild youth group celebrations "We want to see Jesus lifted high"
and all that is part of who I am and what I do.
No wonder I'm thankful!

Sunday cake blogging

Another celebration, another cake!



Extra-special-friend-whom-I-love-lots was "collated and installed" as a Canon of Gloucester Cathedral this afternoon. Amazing verbs for an extra-ordinary ultra churchy service, (the sort of thing that you pray nobody will ever ask you to explain...How come, for example, that Canons are collated??...Does this mean that from now on all their pages will always be in the proper order?)

Afterwards there was quite a party with some seriously lovely people. All just great, truly (even though I had to leave early to do a stint of hospital chaplaincy...so only have a photo of the cake and not of the star of the proceedings).

Congratulations, J, - we are indeed hugely proud of you!

Hello lurkers, everywhere!

Yesterday I had one of my periodic supervision sessions with WonderfulVicar.The idea of this part of training is to work on a particular issue in my ministry that I feel needs attention - and this month's choice was that thorny perenniel, boundaries. We helpfully aired all sorts of stuff that feels very current for me, discussed the ongoing question of time boundaries (as long as there's tons to do, there will never be any problem - it's when I can be fluid and free fall that I might just come unstuck) and then he mentioned "Boundaries and the blog". (Sounds like a children's book, no?)

Of course, there are the obvious issues that apply for all bloggers. I've always worked on the basis that I'm too fundamentally transparent (and potentially disorganised) in every area to attempt secrecy either about my identity on the blog or its existence with those I know irl. So, FabBishop knows about the blog, it figured in my recent review with the Archdeacon, and I've promoted RevGal books to the congregation at St M's, about as comprehensive a "coming out" as a blog could require.
As part of my blogging policy, I've asked various friends to hold me accountable for the blog's content and alert me if they see any potential breaches of confidence or misunderstandings looming, and I try as I type to imagine my PCC always before me, at my right hand so I shall not fall. I don't blog things that I wouldn't be comfy saying directly to those concerned. I don't use proper names without permission, unless the topic I'm blogging is already in the public domain.
But all the same, I do have to be careful, don't I?

The new blogger regs have made de-lurking harder, - you'd have to be pretty keen to create a whole blogger account simply in order to let me know you're there (If you ever wanted to email me about anything on the blog, though, that would be more than fine)
Meanwhile, hello anyway!
I'm glad you're reading - not simply because every writer, even the humble blogger, writes for some sort of audience.
I'm also glad because I firmly believe that, for better or worse, the fundamental gift I bring to ministry is myself...so if I'm working with you, you might as well know more about that self and how it may impact on my ministry generally (and my preaching in particular). I do believe passionately in the objectivity of my Orders - that I can and do function as a priest regardless of personal strengths and weaknesses,- but I don't believe in the obliteration of personality by those orders, the separation of priesthood from identity. So, if I'm your priest, I'm also me, Kathryn, with all the muddles and joys that this entails. And if it makes me vulnerable, well, that's the root of ministry, isn't it?

For the record, I'm of course really sorry if at any point I've mentioned something on the blog that it would have been best for anyone to learn face to face. That's just silly and thoughtless of me.I do try to be attentive, but am sometimes more careless than I'd like.

All that, of course, is simply retreading familiar ground. What struck me most of all in our conversation yesterday was that I take my blog so much for granted as part of myself that I simply hadn't thought of it as something "out there", an aspect of ministry both intentional (at times) and unintentional (more often) which needs to be taken into consideration. I've wondered whether I'd be best, when I move on from St M's, to restrict myself to a private, invitation only blog...but then I reflect on the wonderful people I've met since I began writing here, and I know that for me, the benefits outweigh the risks.
But, no matter why you're reading this, I'd be so glad to hear if at any time you feel I'm breaching my own codes. If blogging is part of ministry, then it should be a force for good...

A multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language...thinking about worship..

This passage from Revelation 7 has been floating around in my head all week, since Charlotte Methuen, the new Canon Theologian of Gloucester, used it as part of her inaugural lecture
"Each in our own language: reflections on the Church, Catholicity and Culture"...
It was a good lecture, though there were other things I'd have wanted to hear too, but I really appreciated her central anaglogy of the Pentecost experience of hearing the gospel "each in our own language" set against the universal vision of Revelation.

Unlikely though it may seem, it linked for me with yesterday's "Moving On" training, in which my cohort of curates was notionally prepared for the arcane mysteries of the appointments system of the C of E and introduced to the comforting presence of the Clergy Appointments adviser (who runs a sort of central clerical dating agency, introducing priests seeking parishes to parishes seeking priests).
The connection came when John was talking us through a terrifying entity known as the Common Application Form, which included questions about our preferred worship style, and suggested that if, for example, we preferred to preside in full Eucharistic vestments but were happy with mufti for other kinds of worship, this could be a helpful route to exploring with an interviewing panel the influences that have shaped us so far. It left me pondering that very thing, and reflecting on our worship at St M's (which resembles so much the church of my childhood) in contrast with the relative informality of the village churches where we were rooted in the years up to my ordination. I was still mulling when I came home to read this post of Michael's - (if you follow the link, have a look at the comments too, where Michael unpacks further...it's such good stuff) and the rather wonderful Worship Checklist from Dan Kimball's
Emerging Worship

1) Did we make Jesus the focus?
2) Did we have time in the scriptures?
3) Did we pray together? (including time of quiet in which God's spirit could be listened to)
4) Did we experience the fun / joy / encouragement of being with each other?
5) Do we take the Lord's supper regularly together?
6) Did we somehow remind each other of the mission of the church and why we exist?
7) Did we enable each other to contribute something as part of the body of Christ?

There's so much to challenge there - I'm not at all convinced that we're very good at numbers 6 & 7 in particular. I guess it depends on what contributions are envisaged. I've had a wonderful time recently putting together the liturgy for the Youth Group's birthday Eucharist later this month...a wildly collaborative effort that really will be thoroughly owned by the young people who will do any and everything we can possibly fit in...In contrast, on most Sundays we seem to gloss over the concept of liturgy as "work of the people" and the majority are pretty passive, beyond joining in the congregational prayers and singing a good few hymns.
If that is the degree to which our congregation prefers to contribute, well I guess that's fine, tom.though it increases the risk of clergy lapsing into performance mode, Sunday by Sunday.
Certainly we need to think a bit.
As for mission?...hmmmnnn....

But after such nuts and bolts considerations, the church today commemorates Evelyn Underhill whose vision of worship celebrates "disinterested delight" in God , and the priority of God.
FabBishop describes worship as "grasping the heel of heaven" - or how about this, from Underhill's "Worship"
"At one end worship is lost in God and is seen to be the substance of eternal life, so that all our attempts to penetrate its mystery must end in acknowledgement of defeat; at the other it broadens out to cover and inform the whole of man's responses to reality, his total Godward life, with its myriad graded forms of expression, some so crude and some so lovely, some so concrete and some so otherworldly but all so pathetic in their childishness. Here we obtain a clue to the real significance of those rituals and ceremonies...which express the deep human conviction that none of the serial events and experiences of human life are rightly met unless they are brought into a relationship with the Transcendent."

Isn't that fabulous?