Building Dreams.

One way and another, architecture has featured quite heavily in my thoughts this week. Tuesday revealed a huge gap between clergy and PCC understandings of what our church building says about our theology...or perhaps it's more a question of the gap looming between our theology and theirs. Then rhys aired the topic , inspiring some rather good thoughts about butresses and the ways in which pillars may not always be totally supportive. Our church, you see, has so many pillars, both literal and metaphorical, that it's impossible to tell which ones are useful to hold the roof up and which simply block your view! Dave had some entertaining insights too, after attending a training day on the future shape of the Anglican parish. Clearly, there is something in the air...
Thursday saw me visiting our link parish of St John's, Ladywood in Birmingham, where re-ordering has certainly said some pretty radical things about being church in that community. When the current incumbent arrived there, the church was under threat of closure and he and his curate of 15 years have done some amazing work in creating an arts and community centre in the body of the church. When we visited on Thursday the place was buzzing with primary school children visiting an exhibition of World War 2 memorabilia "Ladywood at War", and there is no doubt of its value as a community space. My only reservation (which feels rather churlish under the circumstances) would be that though the church is open when there are exhibitions running, it's not possible to leave it open as a place of prayer at other times, and when there are events, finding peace and space to pray would be distinctly challenging. So in some ways it remains a "Sundays only" church, as far as connecting with God directly is concerned.
In contrast, yesterday saw me in Hereford, where the St Mary's Choir were singing Evensong at the Cathedral. We arrived in time to explore, and I was treated to a delicious lunch at the cafe@allsaints, which occupies the rear of the medieval church of All Saints. Thanks to clever use of split levels, the "church" element of this project had far more integrity...The cafe part is raised (with an additional gallery for extra tables) so that you can sit with your salad and look into the church...but though this might sound odd it really works, and there was no feeling of embarrassment or compromise in pausing for prayer after lunch. I loved it...definitely on my short-list of dream churches, though I know precisely nothing about any other feature of parish life!
Maggi had good things to say about reordering at Michaelhouse, Cambridge too...so after all that, when presented with Isaiah 6 as the text to preach from tonight, how could I resist discussing the relationship between the Old Testament vision of God, awe-inspiring and remote, and His architectural seclusion in the holy of holies? I took a deep breath and suggested that much of our architecture and our style of worship here presented the same image, of an inaccessible deity, with whom no connection is actually possible. He is honoured in beautiful liturgy, but kept safely behind the altar rails, to be approached by only a few of those who come to worship.
"But", I went on,
"something happens for Isaiah that speaks of something amazing for us too. That burning coal which the seraph brings to him from the altar symbolises so much, because it represents God’s willingness to engage with us, despite all our inadequacy. It is a sign not only of our cleansing but of our commissioning.
Suddenly we are in a new kind of relationship for God has reached out to us and made us fit for his purpose.
“Your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out”
The whole Bible is full of this kind of divine initiative, realised supremely, of course, in the coming of Jesus. We remain dust and ashes, yes, but we are dust and ashes so precious in God’s sight that he sends his Son to transform us, to remove our guilt and blot out our sin.
We remember that when Jesus died, the veil in the Temple split in two, as a sign that God was no longer “in light inaccessible, hid from our eyes”. The God we know in Jesus is both eternal and unchanging, and also a God who suffers with and for the world he loves so much, a God constantly at work bringing about its transformation."

Though it felt quite brave, speaking these thoughts aloud, they were not accompanied by any noticeable earthquake....So it would appear that the building is destined to remain standing for tbe moment at least, and I'll go back to seeing visions and dreaming dreams.

Tidying the study

On Wednesday, the Bishop compared the rather cluttered altars he often meets around the diocese with "the study on a bad day".
Just now I walked into my study and realised it bore an uncanny and depressing resemblance to the high altar at St M's at the Sunday Eucharist.
So I guess I can postpone sermon prep yet again by settling down to clear the decks. Maybe.

Another day, another Bishop!

Yesterday was supposed to be my day off, but instead I found myself departing at top speed (essential if like me you never leave for anywhere until you’re actually supposed to arrive) for our diocesan Bishop’s home. He’d invited our cohort* of deacons for a training morning on celebrating the Eucharist, beginning with the service itself, in his chapel. Note to anyone listening: when I grow up, I want a worship space exactly like that...but without the job, please.

Since he's definitely no slouch where liturgy is concerned (or in any other area, from what I can deduce) this was a real treat and a fantastic antidote to a week in which my vicar and I encountered some rather difficult attitudes to the conduct of worship here. It also reminded me how very much I love being taught by an enthusiast who is so generous with his knowledge. Indeed, when I whinged to him about some of our liturgical issues, he even suggested that he might come and give the parish a teaching day on the Eucharist before we’re too much older. Good, eh? I’m soo so glad to be ordained in this diocese at this time. :-)

To compensate for rather a churchy day off (the afternoon was taken up with a Social Responsiblity session on Asylum Seekers, an issue that needs a post of its own), I met up with a girl friend for a Thai meal at Siam Smile last night. Despite living only a few miles apart, we'd not seen each other for months so this was just the job, and the food was fab, with "one chilli" rating on a good variety of dishes for wimps such as I. Excellent day and happy Curate.

*Collective noun, anyone?? There must be something, surely...

Comments on Comments

Seem almost to deserve a post in themselves...though perhaps I'm just being daft?
Anyway, in response to your comments on A Rash Undertaking and in no particular order...

It's OK, Caroline . It's not the drugs! I promise nobody would ever accuse you of making sensible comments, honestly :-)

re paranoia (Tony and Mark)...quite enough has been happening to one blog friend as a result of unexpected visitors from work to her blog to make me ultra cautious for a while at least. But I'd already come clean about the blog in my essay to the Bishops, in the hope that this would prevent my lapsing into indiscretion. Friendly policing very welcome, though.
Ooh...and Mark, +J did say he would ask my vicar about my joining all ye fresh expressions types:I'm really hoping that happens.

As to the other Caroline and her sensible comment...yes, I think you're right, though I'm not sure that the current book is inspiring me to do anything different. This is a nightmare week, though, so I'm unlikely to get much chance to find out. No time, no time...so here I am, blogging. Ah well, will keep you posted.

Pentecost - too late to grid.

The alarm went early yesterday, but I didn’t much mind as it was the most beautiful morning….periwinkle blue sky, chestnut candles blazing all over Charlton Kings and birds doing their best to wake the long departed in the churchyard as I made my way up to the 8.00 Eucharist. It was a morning full of possibilities.
Rather belatedly, we’d decided that I should learn how to set the Table for the Eucharist. With such a noble army of servers at St Mary’s, it’s not a regular part of the job here, but I’m well aware that it’s now or never for learning these basic skills of vicaring. It gave me an interesting new perspective on the service and underlined how very anxious some of our servers are. Very sad. With some surprise, I found myself praying my socks off for the Holy Spirit to arrive in force and sweep the whole lot of us off our feet. I’ve never experienced charismatic worship, but even I with my full crop of catholic prejudices know that there are times when it would do us all a power of good to have a Power of Good arrive.

Sadly, this wasn’t a day for obvious answers to prayer, though, but rather an ecclesiastical assault-course. I survived a full Sung Eucharist with Procession, a Youth Group lunch for Christian Aid, a Churches Together Pentecost Party and even Choral Evensong (for which I did indeed complete the sermon in the very nick of time) with a growing sense of deflation. Rather grumpily I blacked out the parish centre for my session with the youth group, wobbling precariously on a table to reach the velux windows and wondering why I was bothering.

Then two things happened.
First, Chris, of the late lamented know:follow blog just happened to drop in as he was passing…reminding me that not only is there a whole world out there beyond Charlton Kings but that God has introduced me to all sorts of wonderful people in it.
Next, the youth group session actually worked. I’d not tried a guided meditation with them before, but they seemed receptive as they sat in the dark, around my Pentecost fire*, and let me lead them through the events of that memorable day in Jerusalem. Later, I gave them space, and some cut out "flames" and invited them to dream their dreams and God’s dreams for the world.
I ran the session four times, for groups of six, and all of them were different, and all valuable. Our older youth group is currently split between those who come largely for the football and those (mainly choristers and their friends) who are more willing to engage in discussion, take part in community projects, and generally challenge the image of the Yoof of Today. But, as I learned through Into the Wilderness and the Maundy Watch, I can’t make any assumptions about which kids will more readily become still before God.
My short term dream for the group, is a trip to Taize next year. I suspect my family will see this as “work”, but for me the time spent with the young people last night was a badly needed restorative and their company in the silence a real gift from God.


*btw, in case you’re interested, (and with deep gratitude for all your suggestions) , I finally opted for the no-tech variation approach to the flames of the Spirit…lots of tea lights in a sand-filled glass bowl, which I wrapped round with a sort of crown of orange crepe paper. It sounds naff, I know, but actually looked remarkably effective, since the flames flickered constantly. It would have been even better if I’d remembered that a black-out might present me with problems when it came to reading my script…but heck, if I don’t know the story of the coming of the Spirit by now I’m definitely in the wrong job ;-)

WANTED!

A simple, non techie means of creating a flame or flame effect, for a brief "talk spot" for the youth group tomorrow night...Maggi's experiences have convinced me that a last minute flash of brilliance is unlikely (though of course a literal "flash of brilliance" is almost exactly what I'm after) but I would be very glad of any ideas for some sort of visual focus. The plan is to take the kids through a guided visualisation of the coming of the Holy Spirit, including Peter's use of the Joel passage, give them time to reflect (in the dark, looking at the flames?) and then hope for a discussion or creative response to what God's dreams for the world and the Church might be. I know I ought to have planned this years ago, but I have procrastination down to the finest of arts, and still have a sermon or two to complete as well. Actually, "complete" is a euphemism. Make that "write". Which is of course why I am blogging. The sermon I should write, I do not write, while the blog I should avoid, I visit constantly. Who said that?

A rash undertaking

I saw the Bishop yesterday for my pre-priesting interview. Since the last major conversation I'd had with him (before my first selection conference, back in the mists of time) had been so gruelling that I'd needed to lie down for the rest of the day, I approached this with a fair degree of trepidation. In fact, the whole experience was entirely benign. My vicar, bless him, had written a very smiley report and since +John is interested in "fresh expressions" he was keen on my continuing to dabble gently and happy to talk about the stuff that excites me. All good, then.
But we did talk a bit about my ENFP lack of focus...the seventeen books on the go at any one time...the piles of half finished projects (I once did the Belbin test, and my score as a "completer/finisher" was a large negative number) and the way this can add to sense of panic that I'm achieving nothing. We agreed that it might be a good discipline to try and write something about each book I finish, and that this 'ere blog was probably the best place for it. So, since I've promised + John, I guess I'd better try. I just hope it doesn't make both reading and blogging feel like joyless, dutiful exercises...Watch this space. I can guarantee not to make this solely a book review blog, though, that's for sure.
Oh, and if anyone wanted to know, I got the distinct impression that he's happy for me to be priested :-) :-)

Another Planet (well, Cambridgeshire, anyway)

Back home again after my East Anglian jaunt...and I had such a lovely time. Maggi is a wonderful hostess (no surprises there, then...but I'm glad to report that chocolate with chillies is infinitely more pleasurable than it sounds), who gave me a lovely spoily evening. So good to chat without worrying about the impact on our phone bills. The worship she'd put together for the On Another Planet day was splendid too. Perhaps if we ask her very nicely, she'll post it on her blog :-). It was based on Elijah's interlude in the wilderness, - time out to eat, drink and sleep,and to be loved by God. Maggi has a splendid giant wineglass, which holds a full bottle...and we were invited to drink from it, and to help ourselves to brioche and to share with others. I loved that glass...it said so much about God's extravagent generosity, in contrast to our inhibited tendency to only accept sad little wizened fragments of his grace.

She, Jonny, Paul and Nick (who doesn't seem to have a webpage to call his own, unless you count his high powered job for the Diocese of London) gave us lots to think about...Thanks to the many hours I've spent trawling the blogosphere, I was comfortably familiar with much of the info being shared, though I'd guess there was a wide range of experience among the audience, including a proportion who would indeed have seen emerging (or fresh?) expressions of church as life on another planet. Nick's "Post modernity for duffers" session was extremely entertaining; I may yet get the hang of it.There was some good discussion about appropriate leadership for emerging congregations, and the training such leaders might require and a range of responses to the question of what makes church to be church. Now all I need is a bit of time to process what I heard, and maybe to read some of my acquisitions from the 10% off bookstall. I've bought soo many books in the past few months, it really is getting slightly scary. (Not sure I'm too impressed by the current one Secular Lives, Sacred Hearts but I'll plough through to the end before subjecting it to the withering judgement of the curate :-))

From Cambridge, I drove to the second loveliest city in East Anglia, where one of my very favourite godsons and his family welcomed me with open arms. His mum and I have been friends since we were 13 and time apart never seems to interrupt our friendship. We've done first boyfriends, births, marriages and deaths together and there are no corners of my life I wouldn't welcome her into. Had another happy evening, giggling over old memories (A. is one of my few close friends who really knew my parents) and comparing notes on the trials of the UCAS system and our worries about A levels, Gap years and the like...One way and another, it felt as if our conversations hadn't moved on that much over the years!

Rapturous welcome from the offspring when I reached school this afternoon, and it's clearly my week to be pampered, as L. has just summoned me to eat the supper she's prepared. I could get to like this....

Time well spent

Do you remember when weekends were a time you spent doing things just for you and/or your family? It seems ages since that has been part of life for us...before ordination, there was Readering, and the children have always had busy busy lives, so the idea of time out hasn't really applied for at least the last 10 years. This weekend, though, there seemed to be rather more opportunities just to do happy things, and I did enjoy it.
My good friend Humble Secretary was staying here on Friday night, which was an excuse for a wonderfully lazy and pleasing Saturday. If you find yourself in Winchcombe, then The Plaisterer's Arms do a very good line in baguettes, and some brilliant banter in the bar too, and the drive back through piercingly green Cotswold valleys was pretty breathtaking too.
Then today I was sent on a research mission to Kids Praise at Thornbury
This was a blissful experience: a service which did what it said on the can, in that it was stuffed with under 9s all having the time of their lives singing, and dancing and praising God. I took that hardened cynic, my older son with me, and he too came out positively smiley: the enthusiasm of those children reminded me of just how wonderful worship can be, even in the parish church.
From Thornbury, we headed south to Bristol to spend time with our favourite non- pedestrian, Caroline. She and G have a splendidly subversive relationship, which involves frequent wind ups of the neurotic Kathryn...but we all know our roles and play along beautifully...and we even got to watch Dr Who this time as well.
Excellent to manage a sustained conversation with G on the way there and back, as well: the trouble with a house full of articulate and opinionated people is that it's too easy never to hear each other at all. I guess the infant J may have a point.
Safely home, I realised that tomorrow is finally 9th May...which has had a smiley red ring round it in the diary for a while, as I'm off to Cambridge to see Maggi and sit at her feet, plus those of Jonny and one or two others who are running a Praxis day "On Another Planet"..Very excited. Full details on my return, but too busy smiling for now :-)

Silly signs

from my day off
"No unauthorised elvering...."

and

"This centre will be closed on Thursday 5th May due to the General Election and Table Tennis Tournament"

So now we know...all this back and forth exchange of insults is in fact because they think they are playing ping-pong.
Explains alot.

Great Expectations?

Alot of things have come together in the past week or so to focus my thoughts on aspirations versus reality...For one thing, I had that wretched essay to write for the Bishop "Reflections on the Diaconal Year and Expectations of Priesthood"...It's that "E" word, isn't it? Here in this parish there is quite a high view of priesthood, such that I can almost see the pedestal under construction as some members of the congregation view my approaching priesting (others, of course, are busy building the bonfire which heretics deserve ;-) ). I hate to disappoint them, but there's no way that I will become the work of finished holiness that some seem to anticipate, this side of eternity,however much Grace is poured upon me on 2nd July!
But I wouldn't be here at all if I didn't have certain aspirations, would I?
To be an effective (oh no...now what does that word mean?) faithful minister of the Gospel in this place...to try to live, however falteringly, as a "walking Sacrament"...oh, I've plenty of aspirations, as well as a pretty good sense of the rather messy reality.
Now Preacher Mom is considering her life as a series of "let's pretend" games, in which she dons a series of masks, and manages to live up to her appointed roles, despite feeling rather different inside. And I know that I do that too...
Does this make me dishonest or brave? Is it hypocrisy to try to live up to one's aspirations, while knowing that the inner reality is still very different. I've tended to cling to some words which I read a long long time ago. I think they may be Augustine, but nobody has ever been able to confirm this
"Not what thou art, nor what thou hast been, but what thou would'st be, beholdest God in his mercy"
That feels like permission to aspire to much, and to try to hold together that sense of huge hopes and chaotic reality. In quite another context, someone quoted Catherine of Siena to me last week
"You are not called to perfection, but to infinite desire..."
I like that. It means I can go on dreaming...

Blogging as therapy?

Recently there's been a bit of discussion about the purpose of blogging (always an issue for those like myself who are very aware that we've nothing of startling novelty or brilliance to share). Both Gordon and Caroline R had got me thinking, so when I finally got round to reading last week's stuff from the Henri Nouwen Society I was rather excited to read this. Oddly enough, if I'd been up to speed, I should have read this last Tuesday...which, you may remember, was remarkable for rather alot of different events. In the spirit of Nouwen, I can report that I did find the whole muddly experience far more meaningful having blogged about it than I did while living it...

Writing to Save the Day

Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help
us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings
of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing
emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic
expression to what we are living, and to store significant
events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others
who might read what we write.

Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be
"redeemed" by writing about it. By writing we can claim what
we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our
journeys. Then writing can become lifesaving for us and
sometimes for others too.


Well, reading that made me feel better anyway. Perhaps it's not purely self-indulgence :-)

Say it with flowers!

I'm glad to say that Thursday's meeting was not all political. There was lots of helpful conversation about models of ministy, and of work/life balance, and the sharing of some creative new "shapes" of ordained ministry too. We also had a brief discussion about the way different personality types respond to and offer affirmation. As a Myers Briggs ENFP I easily identified with those who tend to spread buckets of praise about the place, and thrive on receiving a fair dollop in return...when someone says to me (as my ISTJ husband did last night) that the essay was "not bad" I assume that this means he hates it and it's unspeakably awful....(OK, I exaggerate a little: but that's what ENFPs do, isn't it?!). The conclusion we came to was that, as a rule of thumb, the amount that people offer praise is the measure by which they would welcome it in return. We also commented on how rarely people actually thank the vicar, even(or specially) at Annual Parochial Church Meetings, and I realised how fortunate I am in my present context. My vicar believes in positive affirmation :-)
So, it turns out, does a family whose baptism prep and service I arranged...The doorbell rang earlier today, and a most enormous and wonderful bouquet was thrust into my startled hands. The baptism, of twins conceived after some years of IVF, had been a joy to be involved in (even allowing for crises such as the non appearance of the organist). I suspect that, in many ways, I should have been the sender and not the recipient of the flowers. Not that I'm proposing to send them back. My honorary mother always says that if you have enough fresh flowers about the place, nobody notices the heaps of dust. Now's a great chance to test the theory...

WATCH and pray

I spent part of Thursday with a group of ordained women in the diocese…the first such gathering for some time, if I’m not mistaken. It was interesting that responses to the invitation had been quite hostile from some women, who felt that by even meeting together we were putting back the clock to the bad old days. They seemed very sure that gender issues no longer mattered in the diocese at all and could not imagine any possible value in being together.
Regular readers will know that my experience here gives the lie to that. Who knows quite what may happen in the parish on 3rd July when I celebrate the Eucharist for the first time? Writing that essay for the Bishop, I was aware that the “expectations of priesthood” part was dominated by anxiety over the reactions of some key people here…I’d barely begun to address what the reality of priesthood might mean for me.
Meanwhile, our hostess of Thursday is married to the vicar of one of the bastions of exclusive church, though I should stress that he himself is on the side of the angels. Indeed, he and the Bishop (God bless him: he is such a wonderful man!) have plans to change things in that parish, and C. has a half-time parish post a few miles away, with the positive expectation from the diocese that whenever she is not leading Sunday worship there, she will attend the Eucharist in her husband’s church, duly collared, just to remind the congregation that ordained women are indeed a reality.
It felt wonderfully subversive to be in a room stuffed with ordained women just yards away from this high profile traditional shrine! We joked about storming the citadel and hugging the pillars…would they crumble at our touch??

One girl reported back from WATCH, which anticipates increasing hostility from Reform and Forward in Faith in the weeks leading up to the General Synod debate on women bishops, and encouraged us to support their campaigns. The expectation is that, since there is no logical reason not to ordain women bishops in a church that has an inclusive priesthood, all the old arguments about ordaining women at all are likely to surface again, complete with the oh-so-essential vitriol. As one woman commented, it will be a “Last Stand”, and those are traditionally bloody affairs.
I would never see myself as remotely militant…my conscious journey towards ordination began only when the door had already been opened by others and I doubt if I would have found the strength to be obedient to God’s call if I’d had to fight to have it recognised. But I thank God for my calling every day, and for those braver than I who worked to make it possible. So I’m posting off my membership form later today…Being largely liberal types, who keep hoping that people will be reasonable, the pro-women groups within Synod are less adept at high profile military style campaigns. FiF and Reform have memberships in the thousands; even if you’re not a natural joiner, now might be a good time to consider it, if you feel that the church is the richer for the gifts of ordained women.

Church Holidays

Rather an ambiguous title, that, but I'm not referring to the festivals of the Christian year, whose memory still lingers in some of our national days off work. (Can anyone else remember the half way house of Ascension Day as a child? We were expected to be in school, but were taken en masse to the nearest church for a service, and then had sticky cakes and orange squash instead of those dinky little bottles of milk at morning breaktime).
Rather, I've been inspired by Lilly, who was wondering why we're so fearful of allowing our faithful the odd Sunday off. I guess that the reality in the UK is that a high proportion of the congregation are notthere every week; certainly, in the rural benefice where we lived before my ordination, "regulars" were those who came to a particular service, even if that one only happened once a month. However, generally when people aren't with us on a Sunday, they aren't worshipping elsewhere, either, which is such a pity. There's a whole world out there, which its sad to miss out on...I wish I'd done a tad more visiting before going full-time, but at least I know something of what's on offer.
One of our recurring problems as we try to move things on in Charlton Kings, is that so many of the congregation have literally not worshipped anywhere else for a good 40 years. We can tell them that other places do things differently, but their mindset is such that they can't fully grasp that, and so believe that "the way we've always done things" is the only valid expression of church there is. We would love to take them for little outings to experience wider horizons in worship, but suspect there would be an outcry if there were no Parish Eucharist on even one Sunday. If we did arrange for a service while we went elsewhere, no prizes for guessing which members of the congregation would not be on the coach :-(

One of THOSE evenings....

My wonderful vicar is away in the States for 10 days, celebrating his son's wedding...so naturally, people have begun dying all over the parish with dogged determination. It always happens, the moment one of us is away...the funeral directors have a hotline direct to the parish office and I've now funerals Thursday, Friday and Tuesday.
No problem with this, except for the fact that Procrastinators RUs (aka Revd Good in Parts) has a 3000 word reflection on the Diaconate to post to the Bishop by Friday...Not to worry, though, it's my day off tomorrow, so I should catch up then. Meanwhile, this evening featured a confirmation class in which my youngest dissolved into floods, after his heartless mother read the riot act over his incessant interruptions and general domination of the group...Poor J eventually managed to point out that we never have any time for Big Questions these days, so if he doesn't hold centre-stage in the confirmation group then he'll never get a chance. Racked with guilt, I'm booking Mummy and J slots in the diary henceforth and even for ever more.
After this, did a funeral visit....the husband was weepy but determined. The dog, a rather beautiful Sheltie, was equally determined...that no other woman would be allowed into her mum's sitting room. Why couldn't she have bitten a hole in my sadder pair of jeans??...these ones had been OK till then...but I had to pretend that nothing much had happened, as the poor man was in such a state anyway. Toothmarks on my leg, but no blood shed, so presumably I'm unlikely to be more rabid than usual in the morning!
Finally, got home just after 9.00 to discover that darling husband, who was due to depart for London at sparrow tweet tomorrow, had somehow managed to fill his petrol driven Volvo with diesel...so was having to siphon it all out and then start again...
If I included this evening in the "Reflections..." essay, I think I might think twice about priesting me. Discretion is the better part of valour, so they say.

Reflecting on reflecting...

Back in a crumpled heap from the Open Group meeting. The ladies (yes, quite definitely all "ladies"...and all of a certain age,- almost indistinguishable from mainstream MU now!) were friendly and interested, as might have been predicted. Less predictable was the realisation that I really enjoyed the experience of putting the talk together, once I'd worked out what I was trying to do. Thanks so much for all your tips, suggestions and inspired stories...most of them found their way in somewhere, and I was encouraged by the discovery that more of my past life was actively involved in Kathryn the Curate than I had noticed before. It's fun looking at the course of the journey and seeing what God was up to at earlier stages, when you were too busy living it to notice!
A particular "hit" was showing my stoles, and using those as launch pad for discussion of differing ministries of priest and deacon...A particular "low", for me, was talking them through my diary for next week. Just reading about it exhausted me...but I guess there's no fear of it being one of those weeks when I wonder what I'm for. Overall, I was cheered too by how much I do actually do...regular readers will know that I tend to agonise over not giving value for stipend, but when I considered the activities of a typical week, I have to concede that I must be spending some time doing what I should be.
Apparently the parish had no idea of the burgeoning relationships with our schools here, so it was lovely to be able to share some good news, at the end of a day that included Assembly at the Infants, after-school club at one of the primaries, and a planning meeting with the Reception teacher at the other one, whose class is visiting church on Monday. Funnily enough, all this has started happening in the months since July last year. Did I ever wonder if I'd got things wrong by training initially as a Reader for Children's Ministry???
The Open Group kindly said that they'd learned things tonight. Not half as much as the Curate, I'll bet :-)

Will I ever learn?

Way back in the autumn, I was foolish enough to accept an invitation from the "Open Group" (a derivative of the Mother's Union here, for those who are working and thus miss out on MU afternoon meetings) to talk to them...about being a curate! How stupid can I get???
They want 45 minutes filled this Friday, and it really might be a struggle, as I 'm confronted with the awful realisation that in the 9 months I've been here, of the events worth recounting, 50% will be things they already know all about, and the other 50% will be things they mustn't know about.
I guess all I can do is talk about the journey so far, pray for lots of (answerable) questions..maybe give them a chance to tell me 1o things they wish their clergy knew...and if all else fails, go for community singing.
Of course, if any of you have particularly entertaining anecdotes which you wouldn't mind lending me, it might improve the mix a little.
The talk's title? Yup, you've guessed it....Good in Parts.

Unitarian Jihad strikes here....

Startling new underground group spreads lack of panic! Citizens declare
themselves "relatively unafraid" of threats of undeclared rationality.
People can still go to France, terrorist leader says.

My Unitarian Jihad Name is: The Dagger of Sweet Reason.

Get your Unitarian Jihad Name here
http://homepage.mac.com/whump/ujname.html
with thanks to Liz
for a welcome diversion from sermon-block (factor 15 at least ;-) )

The unpopular concept of repentence.

Along with many another, I've been pondering the public reaction to the prayer of penitence during that wedding last week. I suspect that popular sensibilities, shaped by a throw away culture where things are better disposed of than mended and "love means never having to say you are sorry", simply find the whole idea of acknowledging a painful past abhorrent. Better to pretend that it has never been, rather than give it a long hard look and seek help, from whatever source, to make a fresh start…
The trouble is, of course, that this never really works.
Each of us is the sum of our past experiences, good or bad, and so hurts and disappointments lurk, waiting to trip us up at our most vulnerable moments. That's why it's so wonderful to be able to confront them, knowing that they are part of the person you are, and then allow yourself to be loved despite them. Surely it's an essential part of the process of beginning a new life with another person, to accept that they know all about you, and still choose to love you.
But, if seeing yourself and your relationships clearly is important as we move through of rites of passage, then I've been guilty in the past year of depriving people of this opportunity. Whether from kindness or cowardice, I tend not to use the penitential material included in the Common Worship Funeral service. Somehow it has almost always felt too heavy, when the mourners are at best agnostic. In my anxiety to be "pastoral" I've majored on the fact that nothing can separate us from God’s love, without allowing time to pause and consider those elements of the past that might make this specially welcome news. When we meet with mourners, there is so much that we cannot “make better”, and in simple human terms this includes damaged relationships. To be truly reassuring, words of forgiveness need to be spoken by the one voice that is now silent. With only an hour’s visit, it feels hard to probe beyond the non-negotiable fact of a life that has ended, and it can be difficult even to glean the details of that life to make the service real for those who attend. Not surprising, then, that I hesitate to suggest that there might be things to regret, but that there is still something to be done. That it’s not too late, after all.
I need to get over this, though, don’t I? I’m only involved at all because I represent a hope beyond the simply human. One of the final nudges towards ordination for me was a conversation with someone who badly needed to hear that her past was behind her, that a fresh start was possible. I hated the feeling, then, that I lacked the Church’s authority to speak the absolution she craved…I guess I need to remember her, as I knock on the door for the next funeral visit.

Of mission and mission statements...

I’ve been enjoying a week off work, exploring northern university cities with Luci and learning just how very paralysing a neck can be (made the fatal error of coughing in my sleep on Tuesday night, as a result of which Wednesday and Thursday vanished as if they'd never been…Just who decreed that one should always be ill during holidays?? It’s not fair!) While I've been away, there’s been a lot of discussion on mission and evangelism about the place. Maggi is rejoicing that overt "come and fill our pews" evangelism is not part of her job description, while Tom is considering ways of engaging with those who will be more deterred than encouraged by worship in their parish church and Dave has a critique of manipulative techniques that seek to scare or bribe people into the Kingdom. All in all, there's lots that I'm glad not to be doing...However,no prizes for guessing that the subject is one which concerns me hugely: after all, there's not much point in being in full- time ministry, if you don't long to share something of the Good News with a needy world. But how...?

As I think I’ve mentioned before, St Mary’s ' mission statement' is a pretty accurate expression of where the church is at the moment. It reads…
“To nourish our spiritual growth through worship and to encourage more people
to find God through reaching out into the community"
The church has a proud tradition of Anglo Catholic worship and there remains a great hope that if that works, all else will follow. Hence the tension between rash “young” curates (if only!), who want to challenge the way things are done, (or at least to ensure that everyone knows just why they are done that way) , and those who assert that beautiful worship has a stand-alone value, which will inevitably attract people to the God whom it celebrates. Visiting another parish of similar churchmanship, but less demanding traditions last weekend, I was refreshed by the lack of anxiety, which was only partially the result of my own "off duty" status. I think we might be in danger of letting the hows of worship ovewhelm the whys, with disasterous effect.
Of course, many do find nourishment and inspiration Sunday by Sunday, which enables them to live as Kingdom people all through the week, but sometimes the connection between Sunday worship and Monday world feels scarily tenuous. Too often, too, the church seems to exert a kind of centrifugal force, sucking in the energies of those in its orbit, rather than sending them forth, inspired to live and work to God's praise and glory. Perhaps in our emphasis on Eucharist thanksgiving rather than Mass (Ite, Missa est) we are unconsciously reinforcing this inward pull...but as a Eucharistic community, we are called to bring the whole of our lives to the altar.
Worship and mission are inextricably connected, and neither can be a substitute for the other. Achieving a balance should, by God's grace, enable us to be good news for our communities...but how?

Tactical editing

Today, one of my good friends in the parish phoned to say that she had found my blog...apparently via the wonderful google link Kathryn Fleming, Superstar :-).
This ain't a problem in itself....there's very little about my life and times here I'm not happy to share with her, and indeed overall I'd tried quite hard not to post anything that I couldn't/wouldn't decently say to the people concerned. However, she wisely pointed out that some of those concerned are a tad too identifiable and might not relish having our differences of outlook revealed to a potentially larger audience....So, on that basis, I've pulled one or two recent posts, and would be very grateful for early warning if either of my readers thinks I might be sailing that bit too close to the wind.
Therapeutic blogging is all very well, but she's right that this really isn't the place for sustained rants. So...stand by your in-boxes, next time I have a parochial crisis.I'll have to whinge by (relative) stealth....and please do keep up the prayers for all of us. Like most Anglican parishes, we live in interesting times!

Golden Lads and Girls...

Drove to Somerset on Friday to collect the lovely Luci from Kilve Court, where she had been revelling in a 3 day writing course courtesy of wonderful Beth Webb
Beth adopted Luci at Greenbelt a couple of years ago, and has been encouraging her writing and generally inspiring her ever since,- not least by inviting her on the “Breaking the Moulds” course at Kilve last year. This had been a huge success for L and I have to admit that I was worried that this year might fail to match previous experience, but when I arrived on Friday it was obvious that happiness was shining from every pore. She has basked in the company of kindred spirits, told tales, shared enchantments….
Uncharacteristically, I got there in time to hear the students present a piece of writing each, and there was some remarkable work to hear. There were also some huge and colourful personalities about the place, and I couldn’t help musing as to where they would be in 10 years time. In an ideal world, they would all be free to be their glorious, creative selves morning noon and night…but reality being what it is, the chances are that a good few will have to become accountants or even tax inspectors. I pray that they all find ways to keep that glow, for growing up surely need not mean damping down.

Small smiley announcement

Today,for the first time in 20 years,I am the slightly proud owner of a cello. It was a rescue operation. Nobody who takes their music at all seriously would give houseroom to a damaged chinese school cello...but it's perfect for me, as it can sit in a corner for months on end, if that's how life works out, and will still be having a happier time than might otherwise have been its lot.
Having played for about half an hour, I've remembered just how appalling I was, and why I gave up in the first place, but nonetheless, it does feel good to have a cello about the place again, and I've told our rather posh violin and viola to be kind to it, or there will be trouble.
Apologies in advance to any neighbours reading this ;-)

Thank you, Jane and Arthur

Reading through those Commandments again, I remember with gratitude Jane and Arthur.
You won't know them.
He had retired from an army career as a Lt.Colonel (something I always found hard to reconcile with his essentially pacific, gentle heart), she was a human dynamo, one of those endlessly energetic ladies who for generations formed the backbone of the rural church, never sitting still, always baking a cake or providing a taxi service for someone who needed to get to an medical appointment. He was immaculate in tweeds, and used to delight Lucinda by touching his cap to her if he met her in the village.
Jane was surely the one for whom twin-set and pearls were invented.
Both of them adopted my children on our chaotic arrival in Great Rissington 15 years ago.
Can I have been the only woman in the history of that medieval church ever to breastfeed there? (couldn't get out...trapped by the crowds at our first ever appearance in the village, the Carol Service only days after our arrival). I'm sure, with hindsight, they were both appalled at my indecorum, but they never let it show...simply made sure they admired the infant Giles at the end of the service.
The relationship progressed from greetings exchanged as hymn books were handed out, to an invitation to the 4 year old L. to share in the handing out, till one Sunday came the inevitable
"I'm not going to sit with you in Church this week, Mummy. I want to be with Granny Beddoe"
As my children grew, they all came to love Jane and Arthur,- he who struggled to get a word in edgeways, but had such a lovely dry wit. He would frequently find time to discuss life's big questions with Giles,- one nearly 10, the other over 80 but both respecting the other deeply.
At this stage, Arthur was still Church Warden, and there was much theology exchanged as they polished brass candlesticks together. It was so good to see (especially as the early death of my own parents means that my 3 were always short of potential relationships with the older generation).
More than anyone else, they made my children feel that the people at church were truly their family. They lived out each of those Commandments and by nurturing our children, nurtured us too, enabling me to worship Sunday by Sunday, rather than living with the endless child-control exercises that are often the lot of parents in a tiny church where yours are the only children.
Without them, I would never have been quiet enough to hear God say , as the visiting preacher, the first female Canon of Gloucester Cathedral, began her talk
"You could do that for me..."
Arthur died not long before we left the village. At his funeral, the church was packed with friends and family. My children extricated themselves from mock exams and polished their shoes without being asked. Arthur's shoes shone so that you could see to brush your hair.
Their son gave an address, presenting his father's life as an illustration of the truth
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God"
Seeing Him, they enabled others to see him too.
Thank you both.

Do I really want to go to the stake for these???

One of those ghastly editorial lapses has just occurred, around an article I wrote for the parish mag. I wanted to provoke discussion about the prevalent attitude to children of some in our congregation (who would love to think they had alot of children about the place, as long as "the place" is comfortably distant from where "real" worship is carried out...Junior Church over the road in the parish centre is pretty ideal ;-)).
I tend to be a fairly tactful soul, and I'm all too aware that there are rather alot of major battles ahead if this church is to survive, let alone move and grow, so I had prefaced the commandments below with a few lines making it very clear that these were not necessarily my own essential views, and inviting discussion. The only trouble is that the magazine editors had seen fit to omit this softening-up intro. I guess I would be happy to defend most of the commandments, which is just as well as it happens, since what actually appeared is as follows......

Ten Commandments for Churchgoing Adults.

1) You shall love your children. Your children are part of the Church of
to-day : they are not to be kept in cold storage for the Church of tomorrow. They have not been sent by the devil to distract you, but by God to enrich you.

2) You shall always remember that the friendship of children is as important for your own spiritual development as it is for the children’s well-being.

3) You shall encourage your children to worship with your congregation and value their presence in these gatherings. You shall be open to the possibility that God can speak to you through their smiles, their questions, their wriggling, and their responses.

4) You shall extend to your children a warm, personal and appropriate welcome when they come to worship.

5) You shall allow children to participate in the leadership of worship as frequently as practicable. However, you shall not make an undue fuss over their participation, nor exalt their contribution over that of other age-groups.

6) You shall not allow your children regularly to run riot in worship. However you shall not leave the responsibility of quietening the children to their parent(s) alone. All members of the congregation will, by word deed and spirit, encourage in the children a calm and reverent frame of mind and quiet and appropriate movements.

7) You will make much of the festivals of the Christian year and other special occasions, and will enable your children to contribute to them.

8) You shall not expect your children to be more enthusiastic about the worship in your church than you are yourself. Nor shall you deceive your children by pretending that you listen to every word! Rather, you shall encourage the children to tune in as much as they can and refrain from making them feel guilty when for a while they tune out. They are doing what we all do.

9) You shall not place undue emphasis on peer groupings and the nuclear family within the life of your congregation. Rather, you shall teach your children to think of their congregation as the extended family of Jesus. You shall encourage friendships between different age-groups.

10) You shall countenance neither organisation nor attitude which makes it difficult for children to worship regularly with their congregation.

Kathryn Fleming


Methinks it may be time to man the barricades. In the meantime, what do bloggers think about the commandments (aside from the fact that I would never ever ever presume to be so dictatorial as the magazine suggests!)? It's supposed to be a discussion, see?!

Alleluia

Apologies for the earlier downbeat entry…
Readers may be relieved to hear that Christ IS risen, even in Charlton Kings:-)
All the Easter Sunday services were excellent. Even the 8.00 saw over 50 communicants, who responded surprisingly well to the unexpected “word” from the vicar, and the novelty of being given an Easter egg as they departed. 10.00 was St M’s at its best…pomp and circumstance, yes, but with a packed church filled with joyful singing, it felt OK to be processing about the place in a cope once more. The choir were on top form: Michael and I exchanged glances as we were “un-coped” in the vestry during the Introit (Wood This Joyful Eastertide) and agreed that the words now felt true. What a blessing!
For the first time since I’ve been there, there were so many communicants that M had to re-consecrate…they kept coming, wave on wave, to both altars and administering the Sacrament was pure joy.
The informal Family Service afterwards was just a ball…even though they had had to wait outside for about 10 mins, as there were so many at the 10.00 they took ages to clear…Everyone was very good humoured, and a most un St Mary's atmosphere of relaxed chaos predominated. Another good sized gathering (about 60 all told) joined in with the actions in a responsive Gospel reading…stuck paper flowers on to the cross we’d used in the prayer trail and during Holy Week…showing God at work bringing new life where most needed. Then the children illustrated this beautifully for the benefit of a battered curate. We had given out the percussion instruments promising that we would need to make a lot of noise later on, and in the final hymn they did just that AND danced too.
Risen indeed!
Preached at Evensong, which went well too…and the choir spoiled us with Wesley Blessed be the God and Father
A day of huge contrasts in worship, but characterised by a deep and genuine joy. Perhaps all really shall be well. Even in Charlton Kings!

Wiped out but worth it!

The last 24 hours have featured more church than at almost any period in my life before, I think...Yesterday morning began as always with Morning Prayer...both vicar and curate feeling a bit delicate after the recent alarms and excursions , so this was precious and healing. Then on to the Cathedral for my first experience of the Chrism service, renewing vows that I made only 9 months ago in that very place. It felt strange but rather wonderful to be there with the same group and to see the 3 jugs of oil brought in, knowing that the third caraffe, for the oil of chrism, would be used at our priesting. Certainly made my heart lurch a bit...
Hopeful Amphibian was part of the phalanx of priests renewing their vows, and has a rather different perspective on it, but though I do see his point, it was rather lovely to feel a part of such a positive expression of church, after a bruising week. Catching up with friends over lunch in the sunny cloister wasn't 'alf bad, either....then home for my own programme of furniture removal (those dreaded wavy chairs) and the dotting of i's for the evening's sermon (thanks to Dylan for launching me...) Left home at 5.00 pm....and returned at 4.00pm today...having had wonderful Maundy Service, with first ever foot washing here. Another first was for the final psalm, during which the altars are stripped, to be sung....there had been murmurs from the old guard again, but the senstive singing of the choir in the gathering darkness will probably be my strongest memory of the evening.
I then spent the night in the Parish Centre with the Youth Group, who plug any gaps in the all- night Watch and were also doing a sponsored Psalmathon to Send a Goat to Africa. They were a joy to be with...I did get some sleep around 4.00, but whenever anyone else came in to crash, there was this gentle murmur of psalmody from the stairs (the only spare space, once hall was taken up with silent football tournament, while other rooms were stuffed with kids doing creative things for my Easter service) and a very loud cheer at 4.50 when ps 150 was completed by all who were still awake. Leading prayers with them for the end of the Watch was awe-inspiring...when each of them had spent time on duty in the chapel, they had left a votive light behind them, and walking into that space, made bright by their presence twice over was in itself a good reason for having stayed up all night. Pretty good to spend some time in the silence with God too.
Busy busy Good Friday. Eucharist 9.15 from the reserved Sacrament (and I only got one thing wrong in clearing the chapel and sorted it out without panic...which feels like a real achievement, under the eagle eye of our Sacristan) Ecumenical Walk of Witness 10.30...for which my family were deputed to provide music when the Community Players
presented the Seven Last Words in the shopping precinct. This was a really positive experience, perhaps to counter the effects of the Palm Sunday procession, and it was good that my kids were both willing and able to be involved, as I think they've rather missed being the essential parts of the church community that they were in Great Rissington. G played his flute for some Taize chants, which was a real treat...he's not taken it out onto the streets since we moved here (used to play lots for village carol singing etc).
The Walk wound its way through much of Charlton Kings, with a good sized crowd which was genuinely representative of all 5 churches.I loved the way larger children gave the smaller ones piggy backs, just for fun, and the skill of one Guide Dog and one Hearing Dog who took their owners safely from start to finish. We felt like a community...young, old, healthy, broken, happy, sad...but TOGETHER..and finally we were in real country...walking behind the cross up a farm track to plant it in a field with a wonderful view over the whole of Cheltenham. We stood there to sing "When I survey" and it was a definite "YES" moment.
I left L talking to the Youth Worker from the Baptist Church about Gap Years in Africa and maybe, just maybe, about the possibility of considering (maybe) Youth Work after uni...and cycled at top speed back to church for the 3 hours led by Alan Luff, who proved to be as good a preacher as he is musician.
Finally, I sat in the church and listened as a muffled bell rang 33 times, then picked up my prayer stool and headed home.
Hard to believe, after so much packed into just over 24 hours, that we are only beginning the Triduum. If I survive, I'll report more later...if not, well, I'm hugely happy with my lot.

Feeling silly

L and I found this site yesterday and are utterly beguiled by the sheer impracticality of hand painted wellingtons. Do go and look...they are very beautiful, and totally mad. I think I want some...no, I'm sure of it!

Donkeys, human and otherwise

On a displacement trawl through blogs near and far, I found that Lutheran Chik had enjoyed a sermon on our affinity with the donkey on the first Palm Sunday…there just because “The Lord has need of him”.
This brought to mind a story I’d loved when reading it to my children about 10 years ago, The Donkey’s Tale by Margaret Gray. A quick hunt on Google produced the joyous discovery that, though the book itself is out of print, the whole thing, complete with pictures, can be found here.

I was so happy to find it. Now I'm wondering if you have to be old friends with it not to see it as twee or cheesy...no doubt someone will tell me! For me, though, in a week when it’s too easy for clergy to feel themselves essential to the smooth running of Easter, it was definitely helpful reading. See what you think? and then remember to laugh at yourself :-)

I think I need a whinge....

Having taken maggi's advice and visited Brodie's blog I was interested by his thoughts on "what a blog's for" which includes a reference to blogs as places of vulnerability.
So.......OK...this is the curate being vulnerable.
I am finding it next to impossible to focus on the unfolding drama of Holy Week, because I have an unfolding domestic drama of my very own, involving my daughter, UCAS and assorted universities.
L applied to read English at Cambridge, and 5 other universities; her teachers had (possibly generously, but who's to say at this point?) predicted A grades all round, and earlier exam results suggested this was a real possibility. Her personal statement read well...She is someone with wide-ranging interests, who pursues them with passion, and has gathered assorted evidence of this along the way through her teens. She writes well, so it was an interesting read, I truly believe. She is not, though, the world's most self-confident young woman, so I was not unduly surprised that she was not offered a Cambridge place...there is no way she will have given of her best at interview. However, what has really removed the ground from beneath our feet is the fact that 3 other universities also rejected her...leaving her with offers from Aberystwyth and Lampeter. The situation is now further compounded by the Head of English announcing that neither of the courses at these universities is challenging enough for her & that he only allowed her to put them down at all because it simply didn't occurr to him that she might need to take up offers from them.
So, here we are, with only a couple of weeks in which to make the decision, suddenly cast back into the mires of uncertainty. Does she hope for great things through Clearing (not perhaps the wisest move in a year when there are so many too many students for the places available:Bristol had c3000 applicants for 91 places on its English course)?
Do we swallow hard, try to ignore the horrors of "variable top-ups" and opt for a Gap Year (as she had originally planned, before said top-ups were invented) though it is rather late to arrange one, and she will certainly not be able to take up the teaching post in Uganda she had originally arranged?
Do we ignore the advice of the Head of English and say "thank you kindly" to Aberystwyth, whose students speak fondly of it....?
I simply don't know what to do for the best...
Have asked God for sky-writing, but thus far it seems conspicuous by its absence, and while we deliberate, fret and worry, L is busy seeing herself as "the one nobody wants" and her fragile self-esteem is more bruised and battered than ever.
I'm probably not helping her by posting thus, but vulnerability and community both seem to suggest that I should. Prayers very welcome.

Hands...a reflection for Holy Week.

The vicar asked me to find something to read at the end of our service of Readings and Music for Passiontide, and this is what I chose. I don't know where it came from...Someone photocopied it for me a long time ago, and I've hung onto it.
Last night, in a silent church, it was very very real.

Do I see your hands
Master Carpenter of Nazareth
Play upon that wood,
Feel the grain,
Test the joints,
Admiring finish and design?

Here are hands
Strong from the bench,
From saw and plane,
Chisel, mallet;
Artists in wood.

These hands held a child in blessing
Gave back to grieving parents
A daughter from the dead;
Caressed unseeing eyes in gentle love
Till Bartimaeus saw again.

These hands touched lepers;
Traced figures in the sand
While the adulterer’s accusers
Slunk sullenly from sight;
Broke five small loaves
And made a feast
Five thousand places set!

________


These hands,
Christ’s hands,
His hands:
Break bread,
Pour wine;
Reach up in anguished prayer
To take the Cup that is his Father’s will.

And in the flickering light
Do these hands hold Judas
In a final grasp of love
Before the fatal kiss?

Look at these hands, still quick to heal –
Red raw, rough wrapped by rope.
“Security” they say.
The Prince of Peace, secure!

________

Secure
upon a cross.

No playing now upon this wood
No feeling of the grain
In silent admiration –

But searing agony.

This is the work you came to do
Lord Christ
Through wood and nails.
Hands held wide in love.
Jesus, my hands need washing.

________

Praying hands?
Too often idle.

Generous hands?
Too often grasping.

Useful hands?
Busy with the world’s work, not yours.

Take my hands
Into the hands still scarred
By nails
I drove
At Calvary,

And teach them
Like yours
To love.

A Desert Planet

I'm certain that everyone who visits will also be regulars at jonny's blog, but just in case you weren't going there today, please do. He's posted a wonderful meditation by Sue Wallace of Visions here
which struck so many chords with me, I'm resonating away like a harpsichord on holiday. I'd not thought of our desperate rearrangement of the deckchairs on the Titanic as a "stones into bread" quick- fix, but it does make disturbing sense.. Go read...

Charlton Kings goes alternative???

Just back from church, where I sadly demolished “Into the Wilderness”. Actually, I wasn’t so much sad as deeply, deeply thankful at what happened in the course of 5 days.
I’d been so worried that nobody would actually come, but when I rescued the pebbles from the font there were 28 there, which feels pretty stunning for a first attempt on anything outside the standard liturgical box here.
There have been a lot of things to treasure this week. On Wednesday, when I went in to lock up just before the Annual Parish Meeting, I found a group of 4 teenage girls, none of whom were known to the church, quietly working their way round the stations. The thought of their presence kept me going through the inevitably fraught proceedings that followed in the parish hall.
Yesterday, I came in to say the Office and found the (very traditional) Sacristan sharing some bread in the “Holy Space” with the (even more traditional) Verger…
This morning, a friend dropped in to tell me that her husband, who is known for his preference for the safely conservative, had told her that she ought to go along because “It makes it look like a church where things happen”. Rather startlingly, there was approval in his voice at the time!
Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that this IS a church where things happen…but maybe God's working more beneath the surface than we tend to recognise. Thank you, those who prayed for the week.

Superstar revisited

It's that time of year, I guess. Maggi had also attended a production of Jesus Christ Superstar (as the guest of another menacing High Priest) and has blogged about it here, while Dave of The Grace Pages also has something to say.... Last night was the final performance of the school show, and I volunteered to help with the bar to get another chance to experience it. This time it was even more powerful. Apparently the guy playing Jesus (remember the whole cast is aged 15-18) was so engaged by it that he wouldn't go to the greenroom in the interval, but chose to remain quiet backstage. Luci was asked by one or two at the pub afterwards how she'd found it from a Christian perspective, and there was some surprise when she said that her mum the curate had thought the whole thing was great...
I'm wondering what is going on here. Is the assumption that anyone involved in "church" will be uncomfortable with the human Jesus? That our raision d'etre is to keep God safely in the boxes we've built for him? How did we get to that place, when our task as ministers is surely to facilitate encounters between people and God? The total silence that accompanied Jesus' death on the cross was of the same order of concentration that is occasionally reached during the Eucharist, and I didn't feel as if I was the only person there consciously praying into it. Not sure that consciousness is an essential part of the deal in any case. God reaches out and touches people when they don't even think they are looking for him....and uses whatever is at hand.

"the greatest of these is worship."

It may not have escaped the notice of astute readers that, with all my reading of "Repitching the Tent" and excursions to study "Creating Uncommon Worship", I'm in the business of looking long and hard at the way we do things here...Just before I arrived, the parish had undertaken an audit called "The Way Ahead" and much of our time and energy is currently taken up with translating the hopes, fears and longings that emerged from this into some sort of workable picture of the church in this place, that may carry us through the next few years and even help us to engage with the vast mass of unchurched around us.
Currently, I would say that our worship is rather angst-ridden, with a huge concern that we should "get things right", which too often intrudes and prevents us from connecting with God. So, it did me huge good to read this post from someone who is exploring the same sorts of concerns in a rather different context, on the other side of the pond. He quotes Tom Wright's adaptation of 1 Cor 13, where "love" becomes "worship"..and the results of this substitution definitely bear consideration.
" So now our tasks are worship, mission, and management, these three; but the greatest of these is worship"
Go read the passage in full: it really is worth it....

Ho- sanna, hey- sanna

Just back from the first night of the production of Jesus Christ Superstar for which my beloved son sacrificed his hair...and I have to say it was worth the sacrifice. There was something incredibly powerful about watching teenagers live through the agonies of the Passion, and my suspicion is that 90% of the cast had forgotten they were acting long before we reached Gethsemane.
It was stunning...even without the emotions of a mum realising that this is her daughter's last ever school play. Inevitably the rest of the run is a sell out,which is rather a shame as I'd love to go back for another dose later on...can't think of anything better to help me focus on the Holy Week ahead.

Don't judge a boy by his cover...

Came home from Woolacombe to a strangely unfamiliar middle child. Giles, whose last hair cut was sometime before Greenbelt 2003, has had all his hair shaved off to enable him to act a more convincing Annas in the school's production of Jesus Christ Superstar this week.
The child was born with lots of hair...I've never ever seen his scalp before, and it looks disconcertingly as if he has had a rough time with chemo. Not quite sure why this is so disturbing,given that I know the real explanation, though I had a similar feeling the first time the kids borrowed Caroline's electric wheelchair...
But we are all wondering how the new look will impact on the rest of the world. G has threatened to become a Mail reading, Union Jack brandishing antithesis of himself for the duration, since he imagines that this is how he will be generally regarded. I must admit, I'm uncertain how the congregation will cope when he puts in one of his rare appearances in church on Easter Sunday. His protective covering, (egg cosy to the rest of us) will clearly not be permitted...so whatever else, he'll be jolly chilly.
And all for his Art!

And another good thing...

For some months, I've been trying to get hold of a copy of Mass Culture
Given the distinctly catholic ethos of this parish, it seemed only sensible, .but repeated forays onto Amazon and elsewhere suggested that I was unlikely to find a copy at a price I was willing to pay. It may be a great read, but over £60 for a paperback feels a little excessive.
So, imagine my joy when I spied one solitary copy sitting innocently amid the resources jonny had brought with him for the w'end...I fell upon it with cries of delight, and for a mere £5 it is mine. Mine, I tell you....My preciousssssss.
What's more, it seems to be a remarkably good investment, in terms of talking sense into my current context. One happy Kathryn heading upstairs to read now.

That lovely weekend....

more than lived up to expectations. Escaping from home and parish was such a tonic, and jonny's input was everything I'd hoped for, and helped me to reflect on some important issues, specially in his use of the lectio divina in the Eucharist.
I'd rather failed to notice my struggle to worship when leading worship until it was, blissfully, taken away completely as jonny gave us the opportunity to simply engage with God exactly where we were...
One friend pointed out that in their recent interregnum some clergy had come to lead worship for them, while others had come to worship with them....something to ponder and attend to in the weeks and months ahead.

Lots of excellent material; very interesting seeing how others who'd not experienced alt. worship before related to it, were enthused, and looked for ways to connect it with their local contexts. I think even those who were most defensive ("alternative worship is for alternative people" said one woman rather tartly over supper on the first evening) found things they could appreciate and take away to work with....certainly I came home wishing I had time to rejig "Into the Wilderness" but rather happy that, even in its unimproved form, it will be available for the people here...we so need new ways to encounter God.
Lots of fantastic food...it was the sort of hotel I can't imagine ever staying in in any other context, and made us all feel thoroughly pampered
Lots of lovely empty sand just crying out to be written on (so of course, I had to oblige) and huge vistas of sea and sky...the sheer generosity of the landscape paralleled what was going on for me on so many fronts.
Lots to be thankful for :-)

Let Joy be unconfined (yes, really)

This is just a post to make sure that the blogosphere is suitably envious :-)

Those nice people who sort CME for Gloucester have arranged for us curates to spend the w'end at a seaside hotel learning about alt. worship with jonny baker.

Yes, I know. I can't believe my good fortune either...but jonny's blog clearly says that this is happening, so it really must be true.
Wildly hyped up at fourfold prospect of exciting input, time with some very special friends, brief escape from the chaos of the curate's house AND seeing the sea as well. I don't need to leave till after lunch, but I think I'd better go and pack now. Then I can sit on the edge of my seat and count the minutes :-)

Encouragement to beleaguered liberals...

Our highest truths are but half truths;
Think not to settle down forever in any truth
Make use of it as a tent in which to spend a summer's night,
But build no house of it, or it will be your tomb.
When first you have an inkling of its insufficiency
and begin to descry a dim counterf-truth looming up beyond,
then weep not but give thanks;
It is the Lord's voice whispering
"Take up thy bed and walk"

It's far from great poetry (Arthur James, 1st Earl of Balfour....hmmmnnn....not someone I spent alot of time with during my Eng Lit days) but I do love the images of provisionality....and it helps to support my deeply held conviction that it's always best, as Oliver Cromwell so eloquently put it, to "Consider, in the bowels of Christ, that you may be wrong"

So there, Ruth Gledhill :-)

Oh dear...

Finally found time to read Saturday's Times yesterday, and now rather wish I hadn't. Ruth Gledhill reported on survey of 20,000 church-goers and church leavers, " an idictment of modern preaching and worship, illustrating how how excessive liberalism and lack of conviction are driving worshippers from the pews".
No surprises, maybe, but I was still saddened to read it all in black and white...
"Because people believe that God will continue to love them no matter what they do,
[kf...can't argue with that]
...... they no longer see any need to go to church to confess their sins or seek guidance on how to changer their lives"
Hang on, are we only supposed to go because we are fearful of the consequences if we don't?...have I been missing something? What about that hymn "My God, I love thee, not because I hope for heaven thereby".That's surely one of the old familiars whose disappearance the report condemns by implication (there is a fair amount of complaint about dumbing down in family/all age worship...). Isn't there something rather important about our need and desire to respond to Love with love,- which brings us to worship? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear....
There's a sad little graph showing the rapid decline of church attendance; that shouldn't worry us that much ( I don't care a jot where people encounter God as long as they do, and are changed by the experience) , perhaps, if only there was more understanding of why we might want to attend anyway. Oh, go and read it, please...I need some thoughtful responses to it.

Wisdom from the Bruderhof

Apologies to those who already get the Daily Dig but today's offering is so fantastic I don't think it will do anyone any harm to read it more than once....

Fruitfulness by Henri J. M. Nouwen
We are called to be fruitful, - not successful, not productive, not accomplished. Success comes from strength, stress and human effort. Fruitfulness comes from vulnerability and the admission of our own weakness.

Read more here

Are you ready?

In recent rounds of the Interview Game, maggi has been asking fellow bloggers Rhys and Mark (both of whom seem unimaginably grown up in ministry to me, as I'm not yet one year old ;-) ) whether they feel that selection and training for ordained ministry works well (read their answers here and here ). They both travelled the more traditional route of a 2 year full-time residential course whereas I, with exam-ridden older children and a self-employed husband not keen to relocate his business , opted for three year's part-time here in Gloucestershire. For the most part I loved it. Academic study was sheer bliss after too long a holiday to rear the children. I relished the the fact that we were perhaps a more eclectic bunch than I might have encountered if I'd opted for a college to match my own churchmanship. The disjunction we experienced through only being together one night a week, plus assorted residential weekends and Easter schools each year was mitigated by many a midnight email, and I'm confident that I have soul-mates for life among those I trained with.
However, at times I felt very frustrated that time constraints meant that I could only read for a specific essay title, with no chance to explore other roads along the way. I was still trying to earn a living and do the essential mothering bits, so despite my best efforts at juggling, there simply wasn't time for more than a minimum,- and I was more and more excited by theology as the course progressed. As someone who depends on deadlines to get anything done at all, I was always trying to read that "one more book that would make all the difference"....and always aware of those other volumes that remained sadly on the shelf. Nothing was ever quite finished to my satisfaction, despite the extremely positive responses of my tutors. I always wanted a chance to do more, do better.
Now, 8 months into full time ministry, I'm so aware of all that I don't know, all that I've failed to read, all the areas there simply wasn't time to touch....but I'm also aware that the sense that there's so much more I could do was perhaps the best preparation of all. At the end of the day, nothing will ever feel quite enough. This extraordinary calling is one without boundaries, where it will rarely be possible to say "that's done and dusted", or "I've done my stint". Fortunately, it's not down to me to finish the job.

Into the Wilderness....reprise

An interactive Prayer Trail for Lent and Passiontide

St Mary's, Charlton Kings
Thursday 17th March
7.00-9.00 with music and candlelight

or follow the trail any time from noon Monday
to 6.30 Friday, except at regular service times

Go at your own pace; you might want to allow
up to an hour to make the best use of the resources
available.

Bargain!

npower, God bless them, are offering green electricity at no extra cost at the click of a mouse.
It's called juice and the Good in Parts household has just this minute signed up. I'm probably aeons behind the rest of you, but am hugely cheered that something so worthwhile is so amazingly straightforward to achieve. Large cheer for npower, unless somebody tells me otherwise.

It made me smile...

Just back from an Assembly at the junior school. It began with about a dozen earnest small girls playing 2 recorder pieces, "Be groovy" and "Be really groovy" . Each piece had jolly rag-time piano accompaniment, which was possibly just as well, as the recorder part consisted of endless variations on...yes...you've guessed...the note "B".
The mismatch between the aplomb of their performance and the notes themselves was simply breathtaking and, fittingly, brought the house down.
In case you're interested, the assembly was for World Book day, and I left the children queuing to explore a huge Victorian family Bible I rescued from a skip when working at Mowbrays a long long time ago.

The interrogation continues....

More questions...this time for Dave, Dylan and Giles. Some of them are duplicates, partly because I ought to be writing my talk for Women's World Day of Prayer tomorrow, and partly because I really like hearing the answers...sorry if you feel I'm being uninventive.

Dave
1) What do you most enjoy about your work at the moment?

2) Tell us about one thing you hope to achieve before the end of the year (apart from clearing your desk)

3) Given unlimited funds, how would you choose to celebrate your next birthday.

4) If planted in a new city tomorrow, what would your criteria be for choosing a church?

5) What gives you hope for the Church, if anything!


Dylan
1) Tell us about your favourite poem. What is it and why is it special for you?

2) You have the chance to interview ANYONE in the world, living or dead, for an in-depth feature. Who do you choose and why?

3) Tell us about one thing that really made you smile this week.

4) You've suddenly found a gap in your diary, an unexpected day to yourself. How do you spend it?

5) What is your favourite part of worship? (I know this isnt an original question, but I really enjoyed answering it myself for reverend mommy)


And finally, Giles
(let me tell you, it feels seriously weird setting out to interview your own son :-) )

1) What book do you think has had most impact on your life so far?

2) You have the chance to introduce one new law to the UK statutes. What is it?

3) What would YOU rescue if the house went up in flames? (assuming you could find it in the chaos of your bedroom....oh no, hang on, sorry, that's your sister!)

4) What makes it hard for you to find God in church? (Is that an unfair question?....if it is, then tell us where you find Him most easily)

5) I'm planning a special meal for your next birthday. Who would you like me to invite, assuming that anyone asked would be bound to come.

There we are, folks...I'm now putting away my clipboard and returning to the construction of a creative 10 minutes on "Light for the world", thanks to the women of Poland. Must, must, must stay away from blogdom till it's done.

A bit of nonsense part 2

Wow....I'd not expected to have all 5 places "filled" by bedtime, and will take a minute or two to think of half decent questions for all of you.
Here are the starter questions, first for John

1. Who is the person in your life who has most influenced you, and why?

2. Tell us about one thing in the past week that has really made you smile.

3. What one luxury would you take to your desert island?

4. What makes you happy about your local church,( if anything)?

5. You have a dream ticket to anywhere in the world...where do you choose to go?


Now Liz (being gentle, of course ;-) )

1. Tell us your favourite old film for a wet Sunday afternoon.

2. If you were not involved in your present career, what would you choose to do with your time? (aside from the inevitable "voluntary"full-time committment to a certain Festival of our acquaintance)

3. Your house is on fire. What one thing do you save, and why?

4. If you could spend a day with one person from the past, who would it be and why?

5. What makes you believe in God, on a good day?

And Sally
1. What CD are you currently playing most regularly, and why?

2. If not an engine driver, what did you want to be when you grew up?

3. What things in life make you really want to get up in the morning?

4. Tell us about a time when God felt specially close to you.

5. What book has had most impact on your life?

Hope you can all cope with those...it's surprisingly difficult to come up with things that are interesting but not intrusive. Clearly, if any of these feel wrong for you, there's no obligation!
Will try to come up with suitable interrogations for Dave and Giles tomorrow. Bedtime now...

A bit of nonsense

Blogfriend the reverend mommy offered an interview game to her readers a few days ago, and, in a burst of sermon evasion I asked to play. She has posted 5 questions for me to answer here on my blog, and the idea is that if anyone else wants to play they post "interview me" in the comments here, and I dream up 5 questions for the first 5 responders in turn. They agree to continue the process by answering on their blogs...and so it goes on, and on, and on.
Here are my questions and answers. What's that? You have a pressing engagement with some drying paint?? So be it....

1. Why only good in parts? What parts?
"Good in parts" because I started blogging just after I became a curate,- and the main thing that many people seem to know about curates over here is the sad tale of the curate's egg. A rather nervous young cleric, anxious to offend nobody, found himself confronted by a less than fresh egg for breakfast while he was an overnight guest. He managed to force it down, and when his hostess enquired how he'd found the egg he replied diplomatically that it was "Good in parts..."
Also, even when I began blogging on the crest of a newly-ordained wave, I realised that this mad job was unlikely to be unadulterated joy from dawn to dusk. "Good in parts" reflects the reality of peaks and troughs. As to which parts are good...they are too numerous to post, but reading the blog might give you a few clues here and there.

2. What is your favourite part of worship? I think that depends on the needs I bring with me when I come into God's presence, but to distribute/receive Communion is always so very precious. To find myself involved with others in intimate encounter with God, week by week,- it's mind-blowing.

3. What is the hard part for you about being a woman in ministry? Not the work/family balance, as I might have expected....but rather the realisation that when I am ordained priest this summer I will by my very presence force some dear and lovely people to leave a church where they have been at home and happy for many many years. This isn't because they can't stand me, not because I preach things they don't want to hear, but because of something I have no control over i.e., I am a woman. Believe me, the knowledge that I am de-churching anyone hurts so much.

4. Tell us about your kids, in general or specific. It's a rash friend who invites a mum to blah about her children....I hope you're sitting comfortably :-)
My kids...make me sing for joy. Lucinda (18) is a poet and dreamer, a singer and musician, and is probably the person who understands me best on the planet. On the verge of flying the nest for university, to read English...I can't imagine how life will be without a girlfriend to giggle with and watch weak films on lazy afternoons (though it does seem a while since lazy afternoons were part of the programme anyway)
Giles (15) reads this blog, so I won't embarrass him by saying too much. At the moment he resembles a walking haystack (though I'm sure I'll miss the hair when its all shaved off in a couple of weeks, so he can be a high priest in Jesus Christ Superstar) but he still makes me so happy. He's the one with whom I can discuss big ideas late at night, the one who challenges me when I try to get away with sloppy thinking (his brain is scary....just as well that he's cuddly himself ;-) ) but he also has a mad mad sense of humour and can usually make me laugh, even on wet Wednesdays..
Jack (12) is still working out quite who he is. For the moment, he's warm hearted, loud and enthusiastic, grabbing opportunities by the scruff of the neck, a natural joiner (since we arrived here last summer, he has become chorister, server, youth group member and scout...every single group that he can belong to in our church!) Very much the baby at home, he's sensible and considerate beyond his years at school. As the child least like his mother, he's also the greatest challenge to parent....but full of (mostly) delightful surprises.

5. Dogs or cats? Both, please. We currently have 2 terriers (Mufti and Dillon) and 3 cats (Teddy, a 3 legged ginger, and Chloe and Tallis, mother and son, both black) . There has only been a 3 year period in my life when I've had neither, and that was not a happy phase. I guess only inner-city ministry might force me to consider a change of approach,- but I'll cross that bridge if I come to it.