Well, I survived

my final Little Fishes this morning, more or less...WonderfulVicar led the worship, around a Palm Sunday theme, which was happy and chaotic (he's a brave man arming assorted toddlers with palm branches, but we all escaped uninjured) then quiet and thoughtful. Then we adjourned as usual to the Parish Centre - but it wasn't "as usual" at all, as, lo and behold, there was a party! With baby sausages, chocolate buns and iced rings and balloons...a proper party!

I rapidly discovered the best way to avoid weeping through the whole proceedings ("It's my party and I'll cry if I want to") was to grab the nearest baby ...so I ensured that I had constant camouflage and cuddles and got through it that way.
When we reached our song time at the end, F invited me to choose the almost-last song and, remembering how I'd felt before leaving for India 18 months ago, I opted for
"Wide, wide as the ocean".
It is scary to be setting sail from here, and goodbyes are never easy, but when I stop panicking for long enough to think straight I do happen to believe the words of the song...and anyway, there was so much love about the place this morning it ought to keep me afloat for a good long while.

Not sure how to write about this morning, since superlatives are very trying for everyone else.
However, this was my last Little Fishes as worship leader, and I'd been given the helpful theme "Bread"so I determined to make the most of this opportunity.

We spread a cloth on the floor in the chapel and sat round it, mothers, fathers, grandmothers, and carers - and those so-loved children.
We lit the altar candles, poured out the wine and talked and sang about endings and beginnings, and about the continuity of God's love no matter what.
"God's love is like a circle, a circle big and round, For when you draw a circle no ending can be found
And so the love of Jesus goes on eternally, forever and forever, God's love for you and me"
I told them the story of that Passover meal when Jesus gave his friends the most precious reminder of God's constant presence with them. We sang our thanks
"All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above, Then thank the Lord, oh thank the Lord, for all his love" and then I broke the bread.
"Jesus told his friends to think of him whenever they did this, and he would be with them...That no matter what happened next, they were each of them loved and precious to God"
As I broke the roll, the children clustered around me...so eager, so excited you would think they had never been offered bread before. I couldn't help but contrast their delighted enthusiasm with the decorous lines that form in the chancel Sunday by Sunday...I gave each of them a precious fragment
"God loves Isaac...God loves Amy...God loves Sienna....Fiona...Connie...."
The adults passed around the cup of wine, sharing it when it felt right with the children ...an elder sister offered it with great seriousness to her younger sister...
I'd expected it to be sad, but it wasn't sad at all.
Rather it was deeply deeply joyful.
Truly Holy Communion. Thanks be to God!

If you can't explain it with penguins

you're probably onto a loser.


When I first graduated and was having all kinds of fun working as a bookseller in Hatchards of Piccadilly Cardinal Basil Hume wrote a book entitled "To be a Pilgrim"
Since I was the person responsible for the religious books department, this was very much one of my babies and as it climbed its way up The Sunday Times bestseller list I got very used to fielding enquiries about it. So it was that one evening, just before closing time, I found myself embroiled in this conversation
Customer "I wanted to buy Cardinal Hume's new book...I can't remember what it's called"
Kathryn "You mean "To be a Penguin...."
(Well, it was a paperback - albeit not from that particular publisher)
I then went on to confuse the unfortunate customer still futher by assuring him
"You'll find it in the peppermint department in the basement"
No. I don't know what was going on in my poor fried brain either - but ever since, none of my family has been able to sing "He who would valiant be..." without finishing each verse with, at the very least, a brief and surreptitious mime of a penguin's waddle.


So it was a great joy to me when I first arrived here to discover that Marcella, who has long been the motive power behind my beloved Little Fishes, tends to present most of her theology in terms of penguins. Yesterday, for example, she gave us the parable of the wise and foolish penguins...with the added bonus opportunity to cuddle one of the penguin bridesmaids as the story continued. It was, as it always is, just lovely and I reflected that most things in life are improved by the addition of a few amiable birds. After all, the really important truths are on the whole encouragingly simple...and most of the more joyous insights of the past 3 years have come to me via Little Fishes. I think there's a Kingdom saying there somewhere....

However ever now and then a situation comes up which just doesn't lend itself to penguin theology at all...I had one last night, when a ferociously intelligent humanist came round to discuss life, faith and associated matters. I felt so deeply, deeply stupid. We had virtually no language in common as we tried to explore each other's world view.
F.I.H. was charming and the conversation was good - but I became horribly aware of how much I define faith in terms of felt experience....with occasional recourse to penguins.
All in all, not my finest hour.

In which the Curate is spoiled

Tomorrow I will age perceptibly. I know this not because I have advance warning that the day will be particularly stressful (though it's possible, I suppose) but because of simple chronology. That's just the way it works.
But today I feel hugely loved and thankful....just look what happened at Little Fishes.

I'd kind of thought (fx) whisper 47 wasn't much to write home about, but low-key isn't a concept that the wonderful Lightstone family in particular are prepared to countenance. The design in the middle of the cake is our rose window at St M's, which C and B had photographed and then had printed onto edible paper...quite amazing! And the last time I had a cake with little sugar flowers on must have been while my mother was still alive; because childhood cakes looked like that, this somehow feels extra authentic (and the cake is pretty yummy too). So it's been quite a morning, followed by good pub lunch with a friend who found time in a madly busy and not great day to come over and be with me. Oh, I am so blessed!
What's more, I now understand why people were so peculiarly eager to get me to enter the church by the west door! Talk about spoiling. I never expected to make it to the West Porch boards,- this is clearly the silly season.

Hard Questions in church

I promised to say more about the Hard Questions day…which I found hugely stimulating.
We were given the questions first thing (so that at least we didn’t spend time wondering what they were, or whether we’d be able to answer them - but yes, they are genuinely hard)
They looked something like this

• What is Church?

• What is a Fresh Expression of Church?

• How can a fresh exp be both fresh and authentic to its tradition?

• How can emerging groups connect as part of the larger body of Christ?

I was intrigued to hear that officially, one third of Anglican Churches are currently engaged in something they would describe as a Fresh Expression of Church.. I have to say, I’d question this. My suspicion is that what is going on is rather more akin to rebranding other activities…recognising the potential in groups that might in the past have simply been seen as an aspect of church life to become church for those who attend.
I’m not saying this is a negative thing…absolutely no!

Little Fishes, for example, is clearly church for most of its members. When I arrived here, I was told by various people that the group didn’t “work” because the mums didn’t come to “real church” which, as everyone knows, is what happens on 10.00 on Sunday mornings. (Not…just in case my irony escapes anyone out there!).
But from my very first encounter with them I realised that what was happening here was real and wonderful. People were coming together to engage with God and with one another. They were learning and growing in faith. They were even encouraging others to come and see….

Official thinking is that a fresh expression is truly “church” when it develops its own sacramental life. Given the target age-group, it’s no surprise that baptisms are a regular fruit of Little Fishes, though we’ve yet to manage one actually within the Thursday morning service. Still the baptism of N and her daughters on Easter Eve was one of the highlights of the whole Triduum for me this year, and she refound her faith within Little Fishes, so that's pretty special.
Equally, I’ve broken bread with Little Fishes many times and despite the total absence of any authorised liturgy, I’ve known full well that as we gather together and think of Jesus, he meets us in the bread we share. So I’d say that the sacramental life of the group is in good heart.
What’s more, I learn learn and keep on learning from those children.

This morning, for example, we explored the Emmaus story together, ending, of course, with the breaking of bread. This time I made it more deliberately Eucharistic. We set out bread and wine formally, the children enjoying the process of spreading a cloth, and placing chalice and plate When I reached that point in the story where the disciples recognise Jesus in the breaking of bread, I moved from that story into a reminder of the last time they had eaten together, and used the words of institution. It seemed absolutely the right thing to do, just as it seemed absolutely right that we should all of us share the bread while the adults passed around my earthen-ware chalice…
The learning point came, for me, from D.
I should have known.
When I baptised him, 18 months ago, he was not prepared to be fobbed off with the polite little dribbles of water that are the norm for a C of E Baptism. In my talk at the service I’d spoken of the water as representing the overwhelming tide of God’s love and grace so D., a toddler theologian, decided to illustrate this. He splashed joyously till parents, god-parents and priest alike were all dripping. I'll never baptise again without remembering him, and his lesson has been part of my baptism talk ever since.
It was the same today. When everyone had taken a piece of bread, there was still more left…and D returned for seconds….and thirds. If we meet God’s love in Jesus through the elements of bread and wine, he wanted us all to enjoy as much as we possibly could…not to waste a crumb or a drop…
Oh, I learn and learn from those children!

So there's no dispute...Little Fishes is an unmistakable sign of the kingdom.
Little Fishes is church: not a doubt of it.
But it’s surely not a Fresh Expression, since it has been running for a good few decades…and because we open the church and invite people to come to us, rather than meeting where they are already…(Mad thoughts of a toddler church at a mother and baby clinic are brewing even as I type…but that’s a dream for another day).

Nonetheless, Little Fishes has won a place on the Fresh Expressions web-site, and I can’t help wondering how many other "fresh expressions" fit into the same category, of a belated realisation that a group or happening bears all the marks of church itself, and can in no way be seen as simply a pathway to proper church in the fullness of time.

I’d love to believe that one third of Anglican churches are working outside the box…outside the building…outside all the inherited boundaries and building authentic Christian community beyond the walls,- but I do wonder. Unless they are incredibly well-kept secrets, I’m not aware of that many in this diocese (feig being a glorious exception, of course). Generally, the invisibility of some fresh expressions is another issue…though where they are built around existing networks, perhaps its reasonable to expect that only members of those networks will notice.You might reasonably argue that fresh expressions don’t need to be grafted on to any denomination,- but if a denomination is laying claim to them, it would be good to know where they are. If only as the parent of young adults who don't want to engage with God via inherited church, except once in a while to cheer their mother...

Why I need toddlers!

A couple of weeks ago, someone emailed me about a rather exciting post that is coming up, which they thought I might want to consider. I was, to be honest, both stunned and flattered that anyone could imagine I might have the necessary gifts, and spent a bit of time dreaming about how it might feel to pursue this. It was very exciting, but after prayer and conversation with wise friends, I decided against further exploration, because it seemed to me that in that particular context there would be too little opportunity to engage with dotty old ladies and (above all) snotty toddlers.This morning, at Little Fishes, the wisdom of that decision was brought home, as I remembered again how much I learn from the experience of trying to distil the essential things of faith for those children.

Our theme, unsurprisingly, was Lent. So we looked at some newspaper cuttings about things that made people sad, and thus make God sad. Then we gathered them up, tore them or srunched them into balls and placed them in a metal bin, where (don't try this at home, children) I set fire to them.
At the first attempt, there was a brief but impressive flame, - but it blew out before it had any real effect. One of my many "new starts", entered into with immense enthusiasm, but destined to falter before the week is out, because I'm trying to sort things on my own.
So, I tried again, this time leaving the taper in the bin after the first bits of paper had caught.
In a very short time, the newspapers was reduced to blackened shreds, so that there was no trace of the sad things they represented...because I'd left the source of light and heat right there, beside the things that needed to be changed.
I won't labour the point, but it spoke loud and clear to me.
Whatever else I do this Lent, spending some time close to God is the major priority.

Once the flames had died down, assorted mums and grannies were prepared to be ashed and then, having sung "Say sorry and Smile" we set about doing something to redress the balance of the world, inspired by the smiley faces of the LLLL booklet.

Oh, and a high spot of the morning was when I used the familiar formula of introduction
"And now let's say the prayer that Jesus taught us" and M (whose third birthday, as she enjoys reminding us, is in April) piped up with great clarity "Our Father...." and carried on right to the end.
So, thank you again, Little Fishes. Without you, I suspect I'd never have heard what I needed to this morning.