if you are likely to read the December edition of St M's Parish Magazine! It's my month to write the clergy letter, and fresh from my considerations about ways to foster a truly inclusive, all-age church, I'm writing about the role of children.
First, a little background, that might be useful.
This year for the first time we're combining services on Christmas morning, so that those who habitually worship at 10.00 in an atmosphere of adult restraint and those who gather at 11.30 to worship in reckless informal abandon will meet in the middle, with a Family Eucharist at 10.30 which we hope will enable all constituencies to encounter and celebrate the love of Christ.
We'll use robes, incense, processions - essentials of any major celebration at St M's - but we will invite children to join us in our journey around the church, will make our teaching interactive and multi sensory, and do everything in our power to help them to participate in the festivities and to bring their own worship to the newborn King.
So, my letter is in part an attempt to prepare the ground for this whole-church celebration (the main preparation will be some very intense and focussed prayer - it seems to me that quite alot rides on this service).
Anyway - here's what I said
Somehow we seem to be here again – on the edge of Advent. Bracing ourselves with varying degrees of enthusiasm for some weeks of frenzied shopping, of reconnecting with people we'd all but lost track of, of consuming indecent quantities of almost anything you might care to mention.
And each year, in the churches we try desperately to restrain this headlong rush, to suggest to people that Advent is a time of spiritual as much as material preparation. We try to issue an invitation to step aside from the tide of determined shoppers, to take time out to simply be, and to know ourselves beloved whether or not we’ve assembled all the proper ingredients for the “perfect Christmas”. But this year, I’m going to leave Advent to take care of itself, for you’ll all make your own decisions about how you want to spend it, which elements are truly essential.
Instead, I’m going to head straight for the festival that beckons…straight for Christmas Day itself. “Christmas is really for the children” is a well-worn saying -and of course there’s much to delight any child, from the candle-lit wonder of Christmas Eve to the feverish unwrapping of stocking gifts far too early on Christmas morning - and so much more besides…
But beyond all that is the Child at the heart of Christmas, the Child whose birth we celebrate, the Child who was not just the most amazing Gift of all time, but a real flesh-and-blood baby arriving in the most difficult of situations. A refugee born out of wedlock, crying in the cold of an outbuilding in an occupied town.The Child born to challenge and to subvert the easy comfort of the world. The Child who turned history upside down.
We tend to lose sight of just how much disruption Christ’s birth caused, and continues to cause in our world. We try to assimilate it, to make it part of the prettiness of our celebrations. We sing about an idealised “infant holy, infant lowly” “The little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes”
and this sort of unreality makes us strangely impatient with real live children behaving as real live children do, when they come into range of our adult celebrations.
Clearly, that’s not good for us. When we come together as God’s family, we need each other…If we’re divided in worship, our worship is incomplete, so much less than it could be. We need the excitement of our children, their clarity of vision that can cut straight through the inessentials, and offer us fresh insights into the reality of God…We need their spontaneity, their enthusiasm…Sometimes, perhaps, we need to be disturbed by them, jolted out of our familiar comfort. Of course, it’s not a one-way process. We need to learn new ways of worship from our children, but sometimes we have treasures to share with them ; the awe and wonder that can silence even the most hardened cynic at Midnight Mass, the moments of mystery when we grasp once again that the Child in the manger is one and the same with the Man on the cross.
We need to be together as we celebrate the Christmas mysteries…for the church is a family where all belong, all are welcome – whether noisy toddler or homeless adult, befuddled by drink, or those friends and neighbours whose presence in Christ’s family we take for granted week by week.
Christmas is not “really for the children”. Christmas is for each and every one of us to celebrate together. May it be a blessing to you when it comes.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Not unduly surprised....
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What to look for in the parish part 2
"A church for children" was the one comment I treasured from the visitors' book at our former church in small Cotswold village.
I'm not sure how exactly that guest, who had apparently simply dropped in to the building during the week, had reached that conclusion.
Perhaps it was the displays of children's work all round the building and the child-sized tables and chairs set out in the north transept, where the children met each Thursday after school.
Perhaps it was the notice board, which proclaimed that the only "Prime Time" Sunday service in that parish (part of a multi-parish benefice with one priest and one Reader...so all the churches had made sacrifices over their patterns of worship) was an All Age Communion.
Whatever made them pick up that impression, it really was the right one.
This didn't mean that Little Church in the Cotswolds was crammed with young families - there were many weeks when my 3 children were 50% of the young congregation.
It didn't mean that we had an amazing Sunday school programme.
But all the same, that unknown visitor was spot on.
Little Church in the Cotswolds had grasped something important about the nature of an inclusive church, and though we were neither culturally or socially a diverse community, we did understand that adults and children belong together in the church...that when children are excluded (either because they are not welcomed at all, or through well-intentioned programmes designed to keep them busy while adults get on with the "serious business" of worship) the community's offering of lives and selves to God is incomplete.
So children were part of everything we did in that place.
They received Communion, of course - but they also administered it from time to time...One of my most precious memories is of standing around the altar on Maundy Thursday and watching the Dufflepud, aged perhaps 5, give Communion to Arthur, a retired Colonel, retired Church Warden, on-going saint, aged perhaps 80.
Children served at the altar, they read lessons, they welcomed, they took the collection. Often they helped with the teaching, either by their insights that fed into my sermon prep and that of the vicar, or by writing and offering an interpretation of the lection for the day.
Their parents were never left feeling that they alone were responsible for keeping unexploded bombs under control so that the other adults could get on with "real church"...Rather, other adults (many of them grandparents) shared in the responsibility of helping children to belong, to contribute, to worship.
I'd not really thought about it much then - it was just the way it was....and now, of course, I'm in danger of buying into a church-culture that seeks to provide ways of keeping children gainfully employed during worship.
But, since every advert in the Church Times is anxious to appoint someone gifted at working with young families, I need to think through how my vision of an inclusive church could actually be played out. Ironic if that tiny, "failing" church held the key to this one...
I'm not sure how exactly that guest, who had apparently simply dropped in to the building during the week, had reached that conclusion.
Perhaps it was the displays of children's work all round the building and the child-sized tables and chairs set out in the north transept, where the children met each Thursday after school.
Perhaps it was the notice board, which proclaimed that the only "Prime Time" Sunday service in that parish (part of a multi-parish benefice with one priest and one Reader...so all the churches had made sacrifices over their patterns of worship) was an All Age Communion.
Whatever made them pick up that impression, it really was the right one.
This didn't mean that Little Church in the Cotswolds was crammed with young families - there were many weeks when my 3 children were 50% of the young congregation.
It didn't mean that we had an amazing Sunday school programme.
But all the same, that unknown visitor was spot on.
Little Church in the Cotswolds had grasped something important about the nature of an inclusive church, and though we were neither culturally or socially a diverse community, we did understand that adults and children belong together in the church...that when children are excluded (either because they are not welcomed at all, or through well-intentioned programmes designed to keep them busy while adults get on with the "serious business" of worship) the community's offering of lives and selves to God is incomplete.
So children were part of everything we did in that place.
They received Communion, of course - but they also administered it from time to time...One of my most precious memories is of standing around the altar on Maundy Thursday and watching the Dufflepud, aged perhaps 5, give Communion to Arthur, a retired Colonel, retired Church Warden, on-going saint, aged perhaps 80.
Children served at the altar, they read lessons, they welcomed, they took the collection. Often they helped with the teaching, either by their insights that fed into my sermon prep and that of the vicar, or by writing and offering an interpretation of the lection for the day.
Their parents were never left feeling that they alone were responsible for keeping unexploded bombs under control so that the other adults could get on with "real church"...Rather, other adults (many of them grandparents) shared in the responsibility of helping children to belong, to contribute, to worship.
I'd not really thought about it much then - it was just the way it was....and now, of course, I'm in danger of buying into a church-culture that seeks to provide ways of keeping children gainfully employed during worship.
But, since every advert in the Church Times is anxious to appoint someone gifted at working with young families, I need to think through how my vision of an inclusive church could actually be played out. Ironic if that tiny, "failing" church held the key to this one...
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
What to look for in the parish
When I was a small child, I had a series of Ladybird books which set out to be gently educational, and had wonderful illustrations by an artist called Tunnicliffe, whom I later discovered to have quite a serious reputation, beyond the world of children’s books.They covered what to look for at each season of the year, at the seaside, in the country and even, if I remember rightly, in a country church.
I loved all the titles, and would always take them when my father and I set off to explore the countryside (a regular feature of my early years)
Right now, though I’m wishing they’d update the series to include a volume
“What to look for in your first parish”
As I try to prepare for the applications and interviews that lie ahead I’m trying really hard to determine not only what I might be able to bring to a church community, but what I need from a community if I’m to flourish there. I really want to remember the wisdom of the wonderful Claire that it’s very very easy for anyone applying for their first “responsibility post” to be so blown away when they are actually offered a job that they’ll say “Yes” to anything.
Sometimes, of course, this is fine – at others, the match is less happy – so it’s really essential to have your own "bottom lines" clear.
So in a bid to clarify my ideas, I thought a mini series of my own might help…
Nobody who reads here regularly will doubt that creative worship really matters to me. I value doing traditional liturgy as well as possible, but I also need room to dream and look sideways, to re-shape and dream some more. Sometimes, if things are particularly hectic, it’s only when preparing this sort of worship for others that I really manage to engage with God myself.
So, I want to be somewhere where this can happen.
I need to be somewhere where this can happen.
The question is,
Does worship create community or community create worship?
We may be fed by the alternative worship movement and long to engage with people beyond the borders of traditional church, but creative worship takes oceans of time and resources...which is kind of tough if there's only one person doing this. And it seems to me that one hallmark of emerging church is that it is a grass-roots phenomenon...aspiring to be a church without leadership, a community church. So if we're the only ones who get the vision, where does that leave us?
Specifically, where does this leave me, as Hugger Steward, my main alt worship ally in the past 3 years, will be off to uni in the autumn? And what questions should I ask to determine how far a church that claims to be interested in exploring “creative worship” actually wants to go?
Monday, November 12, 2007
And down to earth again
Just back from a happy hour spent ironing the church floor! I'm not sure quite how some static tea-lights (sitting peacefully in dear little Ikea glasses creating a path to the chapel) managed to spread themselves about quite so liberally without help, but let us not dwell on that. The thing is that there was wax to be dealt with as best I could before the builders covered the church with plastic sheeting for another week's work.
As if ironing floors was not in itself bizarre enough, I am now sitting in the study while a pair of builders give our roof a shower, in an attempt to discover the leak that caused such havoc a few weeks ago.
I'm not sure where I go from here, but if this is anything to go by, it could be an interesting week!
As if ironing floors was not in itself bizarre enough, I am now sitting in the study while a pair of builders give our roof a shower, in an attempt to discover the leak that caused such havoc a few weeks ago.
I'm not sure where I go from here, but if this is anything to go by, it could be an interesting week!
Remembrance Sunday Evening
After the struggles of the morning, it was with even less confidence than usual that I climbed the pulpit steps at Evensong.
I knew that the sermon I'd prepared was something I could preach with intergrity but I've seldom felt as vulnerable as when I began the process of actually preaching it.
Though I don't think my struggles with Remembrance Sunday are actually a result of being too young to have direct experience of life in war-time (after all, my feelings are hugely shaped by my father's feelings and opinions, as I understood them) I was fearful that some people would simply hear my words as a careless response from a younger generation who benefitted from the peace that was won, but had no sense of the cost...
It felt very lonely in that pulpit...and when I came down, shaking rather, I had no idea how my words might be received.
Hallelujah! Though I had 2 negative "I think you've got that wrong" comments, I also had some very encouraging "Thank you....I needed someone to say that" reactions...It would have been simply stunning, given the popularity of this morning's service, if I hadn't at least irritated someone....but the support, unexpected and unlooked for, was just what I needed.
******************
Once Evensong was over, Hugger Steward and I led an alt Eucharist for Koinonia...
We'd opted to use the chapel, which lends itself to sprawling comfortably on the carpet, and covered the altar with a sheet onto which we projected videos and power point.
There was some wonderful video footage from Blessed, a rite of confession using Coldplay's Fix You, with white poppies as a sign of forgiveness and committment to peace, and then, as we looked at this image of swords turned into ploughshares, we read this wonderful affirmation from South Africa. I read the untruths, and different voices from around the circle responded with the opposing messages of hope.
It is not true that this world and its inhabitants are doomed to die and be lost
THIS IS TRUE – FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE HIS ONLY SON SO THAT EVERYONE WHO BELIEVES IN HIM SHALL NOT DIE BUT HAVE EVERLASTING LIFE
It is not true that we must accept inhumanity and discrimination, hunger and poverty, death and destruction
THIS IS TRUE; I AM COME THAT THEY MAY HAVE LIFE AND HAVE IT ABUNDANTLY
It is not true that violence and hatred shall have the last word, and that war and destruction have come to stay for ever
THIS IS TRUE; FOR TO US A CHILD IS BORN, TO US A SON IS GIVEN, IN WHOM AUTHORITY WILL REST, AND WHOSE NAME WILL BE PRINCE OF PEACE
It is not true that we are simply victims of the powers of evil that seek to rule the world
THIS IS TRUE; TO ME IS GIVEN AUTHORITY IN HEAVEN AND ON EARTH, AND LO, I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS, TO THE END OF THE WORLD
It is not true that we have to wait for those who are specially gifted who are the prophets of the church, before we can do anything
THIS IS TRUE; I WILL POUR OUT MY SPIRIT ON ALL PEOPLE, AND YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS SHALL PROPHESY, YOUR YOUNG PEOPLE SHALL SEE VISIONS AND YOUR OLD FOLK SHALL DREAM DREAMS
It is not true that our dreams of liberation of humankind, our dreams of justice, of human dignity, of peace, are not meant for this earth and its history
THIS IS TRUE: THE HOUR COMES AND IT IS NOW THAT THE TRUE WORSHIPPERS SHALL WORSHIP GOD IN SPIRIT AND IN TRUTH
Later we shared naan bread that we'd made together a few minutes before, and listened to Pierce Pettis assure us
God believes in you
To my delight, when I'd given the blessing (more thanks to Fr Simon and Blessed) there was no immediate rush for the door, even from the dedicated footballers who had come away from their game only on sufferance. Instead, we all sat on in the candlelight, dealing with all the different thoughts and feelings God had put into our heads and hearts...Holy ground.
I knew that the sermon I'd prepared was something I could preach with intergrity but I've seldom felt as vulnerable as when I began the process of actually preaching it.
Though I don't think my struggles with Remembrance Sunday are actually a result of being too young to have direct experience of life in war-time (after all, my feelings are hugely shaped by my father's feelings and opinions, as I understood them) I was fearful that some people would simply hear my words as a careless response from a younger generation who benefitted from the peace that was won, but had no sense of the cost...
It felt very lonely in that pulpit...and when I came down, shaking rather, I had no idea how my words might be received.
Hallelujah! Though I had 2 negative "I think you've got that wrong" comments, I also had some very encouraging "Thank you....I needed someone to say that" reactions...It would have been simply stunning, given the popularity of this morning's service, if I hadn't at least irritated someone....but the support, unexpected and unlooked for, was just what I needed.
******************
Once Evensong was over, Hugger Steward and I led an alt Eucharist for Koinonia...We'd opted to use the chapel, which lends itself to sprawling comfortably on the carpet, and covered the altar with a sheet onto which we projected videos and power point.
There was some wonderful video footage from Blessed, a rite of confession using Coldplay's Fix You, with white poppies as a sign of forgiveness and committment to peace, and then, as we looked at this image of swords turned into ploughshares, we read this wonderful affirmation from South Africa. I read the untruths, and different voices from around the circle responded with the opposing messages of hope.
It is not true that this world and its inhabitants are doomed to die and be lostTHIS IS TRUE – FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE HIS ONLY SON SO THAT EVERYONE WHO BELIEVES IN HIM SHALL NOT DIE BUT HAVE EVERLASTING LIFE
It is not true that we must accept inhumanity and discrimination, hunger and poverty, death and destruction
THIS IS TRUE; I AM COME THAT THEY MAY HAVE LIFE AND HAVE IT ABUNDANTLY
It is not true that violence and hatred shall have the last word, and that war and destruction have come to stay for ever
THIS IS TRUE; FOR TO US A CHILD IS BORN, TO US A SON IS GIVEN, IN WHOM AUTHORITY WILL REST, AND WHOSE NAME WILL BE PRINCE OF PEACE
It is not true that we are simply victims of the powers of evil that seek to rule the world
THIS IS TRUE; TO ME IS GIVEN AUTHORITY IN HEAVEN AND ON EARTH, AND LO, I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS, TO THE END OF THE WORLD
It is not true that we have to wait for those who are specially gifted who are the prophets of the church, before we can do anything
THIS IS TRUE; I WILL POUR OUT MY SPIRIT ON ALL PEOPLE, AND YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS SHALL PROPHESY, YOUR YOUNG PEOPLE SHALL SEE VISIONS AND YOUR OLD FOLK SHALL DREAM DREAMS
It is not true that our dreams of liberation of humankind, our dreams of justice, of human dignity, of peace, are not meant for this earth and its history
THIS IS TRUE: THE HOUR COMES AND IT IS NOW THAT THE TRUE WORSHIPPERS SHALL WORSHIP GOD IN SPIRIT AND IN TRUTH
Later we shared naan bread that we'd made together a few minutes before, and listened to Pierce Pettis assure usGod believes in you
To my delight, when I'd given the blessing (more thanks to Fr Simon and Blessed) there was no immediate rush for the door, even from the dedicated footballers who had come away from their game only on sufferance. Instead, we all sat on in the candlelight, dealing with all the different thoughts and feelings God had put into our heads and hearts...Holy ground.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Lest we forget
This morning I presided at the Eucharist in a packed church. People who don't even come at Christmas chose to be with us this morning as we gathered, first at the War Memorial just across the road from the church and then brought our feelings of grief, of anger, of frustration and offered them to God for redemption and transformation.
I struggled, as I always do on Remembrance Sunday.
Of course I am hugely grateful to those who "for my tomorrow gave their today" and, because my father lived through both world wars and served in one of them, I have a very real sense of the immediacy of those conflicts. They are absolutely not long ago and far away. Boys who vied with Daddy for poll position in maths class, who shared his fascination with the sea and ships, who used to walk their dogs with him....ordinary boys with hopes, fears and dreams went to war and they never came home.
That is real and painful....something we cannot afford to forget.
But we need to remember reality, not to subscribe to a collective delusion of glorious heroism, to "the old lie, dulce et decorum est pro patria mori".
My father taught me that - and surely he had earned the right, along with his DSC "for courage", to challenge our annual act of commemoration.
He never forgot. He never made light of the cost of our freedom....but I know he would have been disturbed and even angry that we stood at the War Memorial today and sang a single verse of "I vow to thee, my country..."
War hurts. Always. There are no winners, no matter what the political outcome.
I struggled, as I always do on Remembrance Sunday.
Of course I am hugely grateful to those who "for my tomorrow gave their today" and, because my father lived through both world wars and served in one of them, I have a very real sense of the immediacy of those conflicts. They are absolutely not long ago and far away. Boys who vied with Daddy for poll position in maths class, who shared his fascination with the sea and ships, who used to walk their dogs with him....ordinary boys with hopes, fears and dreams went to war and they never came home.
That is real and painful....something we cannot afford to forget.
But we need to remember reality, not to subscribe to a collective delusion of glorious heroism, to "the old lie, dulce et decorum est pro patria mori".
My father taught me that - and surely he had earned the right, along with his DSC "for courage", to challenge our annual act of commemoration.
He never forgot. He never made light of the cost of our freedom....but I know he would have been disturbed and even angry that we stood at the War Memorial today and sang a single verse of "I vow to thee, my country..."
War hurts. Always. There are no winners, no matter what the political outcome.
Lead us from death to life,
from falsehood to truth,
Lead us from despair to hope,
from fear to trust.
Lead us from hate to love,
from war to peace,
Let peace fill our beings,
our world and our universe.
Lord, in your mercy hear our prayer
from falsehood to truth,
Lead us from despair to hope,
from fear to trust.
Lead us from hate to love,
from war to peace,
Let peace fill our beings,
our world and our universe.
Lord, in your mercy hear our prayer
Saturday, November 10, 2007
blah blah blah
I found Last Saturday’s Blah day as refreshing and encouraging as I’d found the earlier one disquieting and alienating.
The theme?
Catholic/Contemplative Fresh Expressions of church…
We began with truly excellent input from Simon Rundell – whose wonderful wonderful resources, first used at blessed in Gosport, are available as a gift to the church here.
He was followed by my friend and near neighbour, Michael, who told the story of feig the emerging congregation that he is nurturing.
feig is both fresh and rooted in tradition, as it lives under the wings of that apotheosis of traditional church, Gloucester Cathedral (to which Michael is licensed as curate).
Later there was a chance to hear about moot's own particular take on community another group that has intrigued me for a good while, Contemplative Fire (and to hear the wonderful instrument that is a hang drum)
Lovely too to see Mary (late of “a raid on the inarticulate), whose departure from blogging means that I was seriously out of touch with how her first months of ordained ministry have gone…(Very well, is the happy answer)
There were many gems during the day, but the thing that I have carried away with me to treasure during the week was Simon's eloquent celebration of the Eucharist as the skeleton of a new creation, the vehicle for our ever-changing encounter with God...of the value of comforting familiarity transformed by fresh ways of seeing, which are appropriate to the context of your own community...and his refusal to indulge in the unhappy compromise that is too often presented under the heading of "All Age Worship".
"We have All Age Worship every week", he said, "It's called The Mass."
If we cannot make the multi-sensory excitement of the Eucharist accessible and enthralling, then it may just be time to hang up our cassocks and head for the hills...
But even better than all that was the feeling that all us of there were in this together…That there are many many others who share my commitment to a both/and church, my longing to explore and join in when God does a new thing and my calling to nurture and sustain those for whom traditional church is the best expression of all. During group discussion I asked the alarming question “Are we looking at the death of the parish system” and was heartened that few around the table were ready to give up on it just yet, though agreeing that it was unlikely to continue looking much like its current incarnation.
Oh, and the journey up to London via the Oxford Tube was excellent too. In talking to Hugger Steward I somehow managed to plan our Lent series of talks and sermons. Just wish I felt as inspired about Advent – I rather think that comes first!
The theme?
Catholic/Contemplative Fresh Expressions of church…
We began with truly excellent input from Simon Rundell – whose wonderful wonderful resources, first used at blessed in Gosport, are available as a gift to the church here.
He was followed by my friend and near neighbour, Michael, who told the story of feig the emerging congregation that he is nurturing.
feig is both fresh and rooted in tradition, as it lives under the wings of that apotheosis of traditional church, Gloucester Cathedral (to which Michael is licensed as curate).
Later there was a chance to hear about moot's own particular take on community another group that has intrigued me for a good while, Contemplative Fire (and to hear the wonderful instrument that is a hang drum)
Lovely too to see Mary (late of “a raid on the inarticulate), whose departure from blogging means that I was seriously out of touch with how her first months of ordained ministry have gone…(Very well, is the happy answer)
There were many gems during the day, but the thing that I have carried away with me to treasure during the week was Simon's eloquent celebration of the Eucharist as the skeleton of a new creation, the vehicle for our ever-changing encounter with God...of the value of comforting familiarity transformed by fresh ways of seeing, which are appropriate to the context of your own community...and his refusal to indulge in the unhappy compromise that is too often presented under the heading of "All Age Worship".
"We have All Age Worship every week", he said, "It's called The Mass."
If we cannot make the multi-sensory excitement of the Eucharist accessible and enthralling, then it may just be time to hang up our cassocks and head for the hills...
But even better than all that was the feeling that all us of there were in this together…That there are many many others who share my commitment to a both/and church, my longing to explore and join in when God does a new thing and my calling to nurture and sustain those for whom traditional church is the best expression of all. During group discussion I asked the alarming question “Are we looking at the death of the parish system” and was heartened that few around the table were ready to give up on it just yet, though agreeing that it was unlikely to continue looking much like its current incarnation.
Oh, and the journey up to London via the Oxford Tube was excellent too. In talking to Hugger Steward I somehow managed to plan our Lent series of talks and sermons. Just wish I felt as inspired about Advent – I rather think that comes first!
Friday, November 09, 2007
Take care - a restorative Friday Five
One way and another I seem to be spending alot of time feeling rather pressurised but achieving remarkably little, so once again the Friday Five is rather too apposite. Today, Sally wrote
I am writing in my official capacity of grump!!! No seriously, with the shops and stores around us filling with Christmas gifts and decorations, the holiday season moving up on us quickly for many the time from Thanksgiving onwards will be spent in a headlong rush towards Christmas with hardly a time to breathe.... I am looking at the possibility of finding little gaps in the day or the week to spend in extravagant unbusyness ( a wonderful phrase coined by fellow revgal Michelle)...
So given those little gaps, name 5 things you would do to;
1.to care for your body
I know that just getting out with the dogs properly every day would make a huge difference both to how I feel and to how badly the Evil Jack Russell behaves....It ought to be possible to carve out 45 minutes, surely...
2. to care for your spirit
Make sure that I sing - it's the surest route to restored perspective and connection with God that I know
3. to care for your mind
Read, read and read some more....Not just my "pending" pile but good fiction, poetry (oh goodness, yes, I badly need to read some poetry), travel (to return me to the wonder that is India)...
4. to bring a sparkle to your eye
Take a bit of time to actually look at the beauty around me...Ch Kings may be suburban, but it is surrounded by so much lovely countryside - going for walks with a camera invariably makes me see and delight in things I'd whizz past without noticing on an ordinary day
5. to place a spring in your step
Spend time with my lovely children or one of my fabulous friends. All of them have the gift of making me laugh, which is worth its weight in gold.
Enjoy the time to indulge and dream.... and then for a bonus which one on the list are you determined to put into action?
Possibly hard to engineer, but a real laugh each day would reduce the stress levels immeasurably I know....
I am writing in my official capacity of grump!!! No seriously, with the shops and stores around us filling with Christmas gifts and decorations, the holiday season moving up on us quickly for many the time from Thanksgiving onwards will be spent in a headlong rush towards Christmas with hardly a time to breathe.... I am looking at the possibility of finding little gaps in the day or the week to spend in extravagant unbusyness ( a wonderful phrase coined by fellow revgal Michelle)...
So given those little gaps, name 5 things you would do to;
1.to care for your body
I know that just getting out with the dogs properly every day would make a huge difference both to how I feel and to how badly the Evil Jack Russell behaves....It ought to be possible to carve out 45 minutes, surely...
2. to care for your spirit
Make sure that I sing - it's the surest route to restored perspective and connection with God that I know
3. to care for your mind
Read, read and read some more....Not just my "pending" pile but good fiction, poetry (oh goodness, yes, I badly need to read some poetry), travel (to return me to the wonder that is India)...
4. to bring a sparkle to your eye
Take a bit of time to actually look at the beauty around me...Ch Kings may be suburban, but it is surrounded by so much lovely countryside - going for walks with a camera invariably makes me see and delight in things I'd whizz past without noticing on an ordinary day
5. to place a spring in your step
Spend time with my lovely children or one of my fabulous friends. All of them have the gift of making me laugh, which is worth its weight in gold.
Enjoy the time to indulge and dream.... and then for a bonus which one on the list are you determined to put into action?
Possibly hard to engineer, but a real laugh each day would reduce the stress levels immeasurably I know....
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Be thou my vision
I said I'd post a little more about the "boiling down" process by which we were encouraged, during last week's training, to arrive at a personal vision and mission statement - both things I've tended to view with some suspicion as bits of corporate-speak that were best left well alone.
That, however, was before last Tuesday.
As Claire said,
"If you don't fully understand who you are and what you are for, how on earth are you going to help others to meet the real you?".
It's so horribly easy to spend your days racing around like a gerbil on speed...It's easy enough to do that even if you believe that you are in the right place, doing the the things that God has called you to do...but if you've never spent time really considering that calling and whether or not you are being faithful to it, this becomes an even more likely outcome.
So, inspired by the day and knowing I need something to keep me on task with this in the interests of ending up as a round peg in a round hole, I came home with 3D's recommended text The Path and am working my way through some of its exercises en route to arriving at my personal mission statement (with luck, before I actually need it).
I've been invited to consider which of the 4 elements (earth, air, fire, water) I might be and to come up with at least 12 adjectives to describe myself as that element...
I've been asked to consider whose dream, whose life I am living...how much the Kathryn of today matches the dreams of my parents for themselves, or for their daughter...and I've been playing with words.
Playing with words?
Sounds fun for someone as loquacious as I am - but just wait till you are confronted with 10 lists of 30 words, from each of which to choose 3 that most excite you...and then, from your own resulting short-list of 30 just 3 that are your key-words around which your mission statement will be built.
Here are my hard-won 30. It was interesting that there were words on the initial list that left me so cold I was reaching for a jumper - but all of these make me smile inside, produce an "ahhhh, yes" response which proclaims them very close to the heart of my personal calling.
affirm - appreciate - celebrate - connect - counsel - create - enthuse - envision -
foster - dream - embrace - delight - reflect - relate - resonate - yearn - thirst-
write - play - praise - pray - heal- inspire - host - share - smile - serve - love -
open - nurture
The trouble is that all of them do feel very close to my heart...
I want to love and nurture, but also to celebrate. I want to embrace and affirm but also to play. To dream, delight and share. To choose just 3 - three - as pegs on which to hang some sort of expression of my personal vocation leaves me floundering. Which, of course, is precisely what this process is designed to prevent.
Oh dear.
I think I've a bit more work to do here, as the personal discernment rumbles on.
That, however, was before last Tuesday.
As Claire said,
"If you don't fully understand who you are and what you are for, how on earth are you going to help others to meet the real you?".
It's so horribly easy to spend your days racing around like a gerbil on speed...It's easy enough to do that even if you believe that you are in the right place, doing the the things that God has called you to do...but if you've never spent time really considering that calling and whether or not you are being faithful to it, this becomes an even more likely outcome.
So, inspired by the day and knowing I need something to keep me on task with this in the interests of ending up as a round peg in a round hole, I came home with 3D's recommended text The Path and am working my way through some of its exercises en route to arriving at my personal mission statement (with luck, before I actually need it).
I've been invited to consider which of the 4 elements (earth, air, fire, water) I might be and to come up with at least 12 adjectives to describe myself as that element...
I've been asked to consider whose dream, whose life I am living...how much the Kathryn of today matches the dreams of my parents for themselves, or for their daughter...and I've been playing with words.
Playing with words?
Sounds fun for someone as loquacious as I am - but just wait till you are confronted with 10 lists of 30 words, from each of which to choose 3 that most excite you...and then, from your own resulting short-list of 30 just 3 that are your key-words around which your mission statement will be built.
Here are my hard-won 30. It was interesting that there were words on the initial list that left me so cold I was reaching for a jumper - but all of these make me smile inside, produce an "ahhhh, yes" response which proclaims them very close to the heart of my personal calling.
affirm - appreciate - celebrate - connect - counsel - create - enthuse - envision -
foster - dream - embrace - delight - reflect - relate - resonate - yearn - thirst-
write - play - praise - pray - heal- inspire - host - share - smile - serve - love -
open - nurture
The trouble is that all of them do feel very close to my heart...
I want to love and nurture, but also to celebrate. I want to embrace and affirm but also to play. To dream, delight and share. To choose just 3 - three - as pegs on which to hang some sort of expression of my personal vocation leaves me floundering. Which, of course, is precisely what this process is designed to prevent.
Oh dear.
I think I've a bit more work to do here, as the personal discernment rumbles on.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Delight or warning?
Now that we are definitely into autumn around here, and have moved into daylight-saving mode, I find that many of my journeys seem to involve heading east at sunrise and, conversely (if unsurprisingly) west at sunset...and the skies have been completely and mind-blowingly fantastic.The trouble is that while once I would simply have rejoiced at their beauty and wondered what any shepherds about the place could expect by way of weather, I'm now rather concerned that quite so many clear skies and stunning light shows may be a further sign of the damage we're doing to our environment. After the floods of June and July and an October that closely resembled the Junes of my childhood, even the most sceptical in these parts are beginning to suspect that there may be something amiss. Are these fairytale skies also signs of the times? I've no idea of the science, but I have to say that as they appear day after day I'm becoming distinctly nervous.
Nonetheless, the drive back from Hereford
this evening featured such beauty
in my wing-mirror that I just had to stop
and wonder.
In case it's not familiar, the "shepherd" reference is to a piece of Old Wives' lore that proclaims
"Red sky at night, shepherd's delight.
Red sky at morning, shepherd's warning"
So now you know!
Too good not to share
Perhaps this shouldn't count towards my monthly allocation of bloggage, but I've been thinking alot about community in the wake of a wonderful blah day Catholic/Contemplative Fresh Expressions of church (hope to blog that later too) so this week's reflection from the Henri Nouwen Society was spot on.
On the Journey Towards Universal Solidarity
I recently spent a week in a small rural village called Sega, in Ghana, West Africa. My purpose was to establish a partnership with the local school where my organization, Intercordia Canada, hopes to place student volunteers. One day I met with about 50 parents, some of who would be asked to host our students for three months this summer. Mister Godwin, the head of the school, introduced me and asked me to say a few words about Intercordia. When I was done, Mister Godwin asked if any parents had questions. A small, older gentleman stood up, his back hunched, his skin wrinkled by the hot sun, and he asked in Dambe, "What are your first impressions of our community?" Mister Godwin translated as I described my time in Sega. I told them about my first morning and how the children had immediately taken my hand and led me through the village. As we passed people on the road, they recognized right away that I was new in town and most nodded or said "You are welcome!" Some enthusiastically took my face in their hands and said something in Dambe and then repeated "You are welcome! You are welcome!" I looked at the man standing there amongst the other parents and told him that if a stranger came to my neighbourhood, with different coloured skin, who dressed differently, no one would offer a greeting. In fact people might look at that person with suspicion and turn away. The old man looked at me with concerned eyes and said, "But, that is no way to treat a stranger". I humbly agreed with him. Then he said with conviction, "Then you must send your students, so that we can help to develop your community".
Perhaps that's the answer to building community in our churches - to import catalysts from beyond the parish boundaries. Oh, hang on, perhaps that's part of the role of the clergy...to be catalysts for community. I like that.
On the Journey Towards Universal Solidarity
written by CLARA FRASCHETTI
I recently spent a week in a small rural village called Sega, in Ghana, West Africa. My purpose was to establish a partnership with the local school where my organization, Intercordia Canada, hopes to place student volunteers. One day I met with about 50 parents, some of who would be asked to host our students for three months this summer. Mister Godwin, the head of the school, introduced me and asked me to say a few words about Intercordia. When I was done, Mister Godwin asked if any parents had questions. A small, older gentleman stood up, his back hunched, his skin wrinkled by the hot sun, and he asked in Dambe, "What are your first impressions of our community?" Mister Godwin translated as I described my time in Sega. I told them about my first morning and how the children had immediately taken my hand and led me through the village. As we passed people on the road, they recognized right away that I was new in town and most nodded or said "You are welcome!" Some enthusiastically took my face in their hands and said something in Dambe and then repeated "You are welcome! You are welcome!" I looked at the man standing there amongst the other parents and told him that if a stranger came to my neighbourhood, with different coloured skin, who dressed differently, no one would offer a greeting. In fact people might look at that person with suspicion and turn away. The old man looked at me with concerned eyes and said, "But, that is no way to treat a stranger". I humbly agreed with him. Then he said with conviction, "Then you must send your students, so that we can help to develop your community".Perhaps that's the answer to building community in our churches - to import catalysts from beyond the parish boundaries. Oh, hang on, perhaps that's part of the role of the clergy...to be catalysts for community. I like that.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Transition time again
What we are to become is both task and gift – Marilyn McCord Adams
The fundamental moral question, therefore, is not “What ought we to do?” but “What kind of persons are we called to become?”
(Life in Christ: Morals, Communion and the Church)
So I’m here in transition.
I’ve been in transition as a mother, and found it hard and uncongenial….but up to a point at least some of the intitiative still lay with me.
Now I’m in transition again, waiting to be born in a new place with a new role…but this time I’m the baby….I know and value the safety of my current environment, its familiar warm darkness, its reliable nurture.
But I’m being slowly squeezed, whatever I may feel, along a passage that is leading to a new reality outside my knowledge.
Staying put seems so comfortable and attractive, but it’s simply not an option that is open to me. The unborn child cannot stay put – she will die if she lingers too long, because the very environment that has nurtured her so far will gradually begin to starve and stifle.
So she has to submit to the wave upon wave that engulfs her and pushes her onwards to something she can’t yet imagine.
The waiting and the journey are both hard work – but to be born is to come one step closer to knowing oneself as an independent being….
The fundamental moral question, therefore, is not “What ought we to do?” but “What kind of persons are we called to become?”
(Life in Christ: Morals, Communion and the Church)
So I’m here in transition.
I’ve been in transition as a mother, and found it hard and uncongenial….but up to a point at least some of the intitiative still lay with me.
Now I’m in transition again, waiting to be born in a new place with a new role…but this time I’m the baby….I know and value the safety of my current environment, its familiar warm darkness, its reliable nurture.
But I’m being slowly squeezed, whatever I may feel, along a passage that is leading to a new reality outside my knowledge.
Staying put seems so comfortable and attractive, but it’s simply not an option that is open to me. The unborn child cannot stay put – she will die if she lingers too long, because the very environment that has nurtured her so far will gradually begin to starve and stifle.
So she has to submit to the wave upon wave that engulfs her and pushes her onwards to something she can’t yet imagine.
The waiting and the journey are both hard work – but to be born is to come one step closer to knowing oneself as an independent being….
Monday, November 05, 2007
Laborare est orare
In the mornings recently as we’ve gathered in St David’s Chapel for morning prayer, it has been to the background rumble of a small cement mixer, and the sound of hammering,purposeful conversation and even, this morning, a small forklift truck. Our builders have been splendid to work with, showing great sensitivity and understanding of the purpose of a church and going well beyond the call of duty to enable us to continue worship with minimal disruption while their work progresses. The Office, though, is too regular an occurrence to allow them to down tools, -so as they have mixed concrete, grouted tiles and laid the new floor where some vanished pews once stood, we too have pressed on with our work... Both labours are foundational. The words of prayer that we offer, in company with Christians across the world, provide the stability and structure that my ministry depends on…Morning and Evening Prayer are the book-ends that support everything else that happens in my day, and I know that they are no less essential to the life of the whole church, though on the whole we make less noise about them than the builders are bound to. I’ve loved the fact that pray-ers and builders have worked side by side, looking towards a church that is more truly fit for purpose, more fully an expression of our calling to be God’s people in this place, to worship with creativity and to welcome all comers in God’s name.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Thoughts for All Saints
Busy busy day, which began with the 8.00 Eucharist...not a congregation that expects (or indeed welcomes) a sermon as a general rule, but as I stood there looking at that faithful group (just 27 this morning) it seemed that I couldn't not say something about the feast we were celebrating - so I did the unthinkable for me. I just spoke to them. No notes. No clear sense of quite where I might go...but a thought for the day, which I hope might remind them of something important."A saint is someone that the light shines through"
That’s my favourite definition, - attributed to a small boy who was stuck for an answer to the question
“What is a saint” as he sat in a church of many stained glass windows.
I love it because, like so much that children say about God, it summarises in one short phrase a most important truth.
Saint ARE people whom the light shines through…people whose lives radiate God’s love so clearly that they point the way to others.
We have, of course, the church’s canon of saints, people whose lives and witness we celebrate year on year, - but we have too those unsung, unknown saints who’ve inspired those who knew them – those who know them. The saints of our community are, in a way, represented by the gallery of pictures of your former clergy who look down on me as I robe in the vestry...men who lived and worked among you, trying with all their strength to be signs of God's Kingdom. But you'll have others too, ladies who taught you, or taught your children at Sunday school...a grandparent or an elderly aunt who spoke to you about Jesus or simply loved you in such a way that you knew yourself loveable always...
Those beatitudes we’ve just heard as our gospel reading say nothing about being blessed when you convert thousands at a great rally at Wembley Stadium…they fail to mention the need to write a life changing book that all the world will read…
Mostly they speak about things to which we could all aspire – to be pure in heart, to long for righteousness, to be merciful…
Added together, those aspirations make up a very powerful witness…Added together, they transform ordinary people, people like us, into saints that the light shines through.
This is our calling.
Later on at OpenHouse we explored our calling to be "lights that shine" a little more, looking at pictures of some stereotypical saints and then at some unsung saints from our ow community...We lit sparklers and enjoyed their effect in a dark church, but realised that they burned out very quickly - not the best metaphor for our calling....so we handed out glow sticks, which are still shining softly 5 hours on.
Finally at Koinonia we simply enjoyed the light from our sparklers, drawing wild patterns in the air and pretending that we were none of us grown up enough to worry about exams, jobs or the fact that tomorrow is Monday again.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
The Way Ahead
was the name of my first piano book when I emerged triumphant from John Thompson Book 1...No more pictures of cute gnomes and instead pieces by "real" composers. Oh, I was so excited!
I guess there might be a similiar feel when I actually land that "first responsibility post" , towards which so much of my energies are currently geared. At the moment, though, I'm very grateful for any kindly helpers who cross my path (none of whom, oddly enough, have looked even remotely like gnomes).
On Tuesday, therefore, I was up at dawn for the drive to Guildford for training from Claire Pedrick of 3D Coaching on the gentle art of moving on. To my relief, the group was not just a collection of anxious curates (who could see their successors removal vans approaching the door) but clergy at all stages of ministry, who were trying to discern if now is the time for a change. The day was completely excellent - I'm delighted to have done it, though I wish even more that I'd been able to do it a year ago.
Right now, the view from here is rather like this (actually part of the cloistered area outside Guildford Cathedral) - with lots of shadowy openings and
vague possibilities and one or two that look as if they might actually be a door-way to something.
Part of Tuesday's task was to begin to recognise our own gifts so that we have more hope of communicating them to interview panels...We were invited to mind-map our whole life's experience, drawing out the key skills that each chapter represented. I'd never, for example, recognised that opting to run a B&B when the last recession left us in a large Cotswold farmhouse with no money could be seen as adaptability as much as deperation! But actually, it can....and right the way down the line for everyone there are unrecognised talents to be spotted and drawn out.
From this, the next step was to "boil ourselves down" to the essence of ourselves in ministry...a process that was both hard-work and thoroughly rewarding (I'll tell more later) before we considered what might be the absolute essentials (and desirables) for a job to "fit". We were invited to consider those things that made us smile or cringe in any parish profile, and reflect on what that might say about the place and the people. One golden nugget that I'll have to keep at the forefront of my mind was Claire's reminder
"Those of you who are looking for your first parish need to be aware that you'll be so pathetically grateful if offered a job that you're likely to jump at anything. Just don't..."
I came home energised and keen to explore what it is that really makes me sing in my current ministry...and what that might say as I try to make clear how the way ahead might look for me.
I guess there might be a similiar feel when I actually land that "first responsibility post" , towards which so much of my energies are currently geared. At the moment, though, I'm very grateful for any kindly helpers who cross my path (none of whom, oddly enough, have looked even remotely like gnomes).
On Tuesday, therefore, I was up at dawn for the drive to Guildford for training from Claire Pedrick of 3D Coaching on the gentle art of moving on. To my relief, the group was not just a collection of anxious curates (who could see their successors removal vans approaching the door) but clergy at all stages of ministry, who were trying to discern if now is the time for a change. The day was completely excellent - I'm delighted to have done it, though I wish even more that I'd been able to do it a year ago.
Right now, the view from here is rather like this (actually part of the cloistered area outside Guildford Cathedral) - with lots of shadowy openings andvague possibilities and one or two that look as if they might actually be a door-way to something.
Part of Tuesday's task was to begin to recognise our own gifts so that we have more hope of communicating them to interview panels...We were invited to mind-map our whole life's experience, drawing out the key skills that each chapter represented. I'd never, for example, recognised that opting to run a B&B when the last recession left us in a large Cotswold farmhouse with no money could be seen as adaptability as much as deperation! But actually, it can....and right the way down the line for everyone there are unrecognised talents to be spotted and drawn out.
From this, the next step was to "boil ourselves down" to the essence of ourselves in ministry...a process that was both hard-work and thoroughly rewarding (I'll tell more later) before we considered what might be the absolute essentials (and desirables) for a job to "fit". We were invited to consider those things that made us smile or cringe in any parish profile, and reflect on what that might say about the place and the people. One golden nugget that I'll have to keep at the forefront of my mind was Claire's reminder
"Those of you who are looking for your first parish need to be aware that you'll be so pathetically grateful if offered a job that you're likely to jump at anything. Just don't..."
I came home energised and keen to explore what it is that really makes me sing in my current ministry...and what that might say as I try to make clear how the way ahead might look for me.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Do you have any questions?
If ever there was a timely Friday Five, this one must be it. In a week in which I’ve spent one day learning about preparations for moving on (I’ll blog that tomorrow – one unexpected side effect of the NaBloPoMo is that I really can’t afford to just post whenever I think of it – I’ll surely run out of ideas far too soon that way) Mother Laura has produced questions on that terrifying event, The Interview.
1. What was the most memorable interview you ever had?
I’ve had quite a startling lack of interviews in my life, actually and none particularly stand out…When we first moved out of London and funds were almost non-existent, I tried to find any sort of un-demanding part time job to help…and again and again I fell over my Cambridge degree, which was suddenly not an asset but a huge liability. Oddly, it never occurred to me to leave it off the CV, even after the MD of a local quarrying firm, who had wanted some clerical help in the office told me categorically
“I couldn’t employ you. You’re friends with some of the people I work for”.
OK, there probably was a bit of a mismatch of my abilities and their needs – but at that moment what I needed most was an extra £100 per week and I really couldn’t see why over-qualification might be a problem. "But that was in another country and besides, the wench is dead…"
2. Have you ever been the interviewer rather than the interviewee? If so, are you a tiger, a creampuff, or somewhere in between?
I’ve never been part of the sort of career world that put me in the interviewer’s seat, but I have been part of a panel appointing a new teacher at the village school. On that occasion, I was so bowled over by the wonderfulness of one of the short-listed candidates that I was desperate for her to teach my children – so my approach was definitely along the “cream puff” lines. I so wanted her to show her best self, which she did, praise be – and got the job, and was every bit as much of an inspiration for Hugger Steward as I'd hoped. I don't think I do "tiger" actually...
3. Do phone interviews make you more or less nervous than in-person ones?
I’ve never had one as such, - but the story that follows concerns a phone conversation to advise me of the result of an interview.
Imagine the scene. Idyllic summer’s evening somewhere in the Cotswolds.
I’m attempting to lead a small pony with a large appetite along the grassy track to his field, without hesitation, deviation or pauses for snacking en route.
Suddenly the calm of the evening is broken by an electronic version of a Bach Brandenburg concerto…
Tis the mobile.
Frantic rifling in many pockets ensues (all horsy clothes must be well pocketed, as you always need innumerable bits and pieces about your person, just in case). Finally the phone is located, dropped (missing a cow pat by inches) retrieved – miraculously all before the ringing stops.
So far, so good, though I’m dimly aware that Todd the Pony, who had been intent on nothing more interesting than the grass immediately in front of him, has spotted something more exciting….He is beginning to be restless.
“Kathryn, this is Bishop J” says a voice…”I have some news regarding your Selection Conference”
Oh. The world stops. Last time this bishop phoned and began with these words, road blocks and disappointment followed. With an effort, I reconnect with the here and now, just in time to to receive the words
“Warmly recommend you for training…”
Suddenly the evening sun glows with a new gold. It’s Yes….I can go forward. This wasn’t all a mad and unliveable dream…but just as I begin to take my part in the conversation, the lure of the wheel-barrow of hay only yards away becomes too strong. Instead of the polite and grateful responses to be expected from a brand new ordinand, what the Bishop actually hears is
“No…(Excuse me, Bishop….Yes, I am still here…) No. You wretched animal (Not you, of course, Bishop….I’m sorry. You were sayi------. COME BACK HERE"
Bishop (resignedly, knowing that distraction and Kathryn are constant companions) “I sense perhaps this isn’t the best moment to talk…”
4. What was the best advice you ever got to prepare for an interview? How about the worst?
At the training day this week, the thing that struck me right between the eyes was the need to really know who you are yourself, as fully as possible before you try to present that self to a stranger at interview. It may sound obvious, but it’s only too easy to go into an interview focussing on the obvious things that you imagine the interviewers are looking for - while what really matters is that the job should be a good fit for the whole of you, not just the bits that can “do” whatever it is.
Worst advice….before my first selection conference “Be yourself”.
There’s quite a lot of this particular self, and I think I drowned the selectors in Kathryn that time round. I wasn’t less honest at the re-match, just less keen to share everything, no matter what!
5. Do you have any pre-interview rituals that give you confidence?
No – if I can only manage to leave the house in Good Time that is more than enough for me.
1. What was the most memorable interview you ever had?
I’ve had quite a startling lack of interviews in my life, actually and none particularly stand out…When we first moved out of London and funds were almost non-existent, I tried to find any sort of un-demanding part time job to help…and again and again I fell over my Cambridge degree, which was suddenly not an asset but a huge liability. Oddly, it never occurred to me to leave it off the CV, even after the MD of a local quarrying firm, who had wanted some clerical help in the office told me categorically
“I couldn’t employ you. You’re friends with some of the people I work for”.
OK, there probably was a bit of a mismatch of my abilities and their needs – but at that moment what I needed most was an extra £100 per week and I really couldn’t see why over-qualification might be a problem. "But that was in another country and besides, the wench is dead…"
2. Have you ever been the interviewer rather than the interviewee? If so, are you a tiger, a creampuff, or somewhere in between?
I’ve never been part of the sort of career world that put me in the interviewer’s seat, but I have been part of a panel appointing a new teacher at the village school. On that occasion, I was so bowled over by the wonderfulness of one of the short-listed candidates that I was desperate for her to teach my children – so my approach was definitely along the “cream puff” lines. I so wanted her to show her best self, which she did, praise be – and got the job, and was every bit as much of an inspiration for Hugger Steward as I'd hoped. I don't think I do "tiger" actually...
3. Do phone interviews make you more or less nervous than in-person ones?
I’ve never had one as such, - but the story that follows concerns a phone conversation to advise me of the result of an interview.
Imagine the scene. Idyllic summer’s evening somewhere in the Cotswolds.
I’m attempting to lead a small pony with a large appetite along the grassy track to his field, without hesitation, deviation or pauses for snacking en route.
Suddenly the calm of the evening is broken by an electronic version of a Bach Brandenburg concerto…
Tis the mobile.
Frantic rifling in many pockets ensues (all horsy clothes must be well pocketed, as you always need innumerable bits and pieces about your person, just in case). Finally the phone is located, dropped (missing a cow pat by inches) retrieved – miraculously all before the ringing stops.
So far, so good, though I’m dimly aware that Todd the Pony, who had been intent on nothing more interesting than the grass immediately in front of him, has spotted something more exciting….He is beginning to be restless.
“Kathryn, this is Bishop J” says a voice…”I have some news regarding your Selection Conference”
Oh. The world stops. Last time this bishop phoned and began with these words, road blocks and disappointment followed. With an effort, I reconnect with the here and now, just in time to to receive the words
“Warmly recommend you for training…”
Suddenly the evening sun glows with a new gold. It’s Yes….I can go forward. This wasn’t all a mad and unliveable dream…but just as I begin to take my part in the conversation, the lure of the wheel-barrow of hay only yards away becomes too strong. Instead of the polite and grateful responses to be expected from a brand new ordinand, what the Bishop actually hears is
“No…(Excuse me, Bishop….Yes, I am still here…) No. You wretched animal (Not you, of course, Bishop….I’m sorry. You were sayi------. COME BACK HERE"
Bishop (resignedly, knowing that distraction and Kathryn are constant companions) “I sense perhaps this isn’t the best moment to talk…”
4. What was the best advice you ever got to prepare for an interview? How about the worst?
At the training day this week, the thing that struck me right between the eyes was the need to really know who you are yourself, as fully as possible before you try to present that self to a stranger at interview. It may sound obvious, but it’s only too easy to go into an interview focussing on the obvious things that you imagine the interviewers are looking for - while what really matters is that the job should be a good fit for the whole of you, not just the bits that can “do” whatever it is.
Worst advice….before my first selection conference “Be yourself”.
There’s quite a lot of this particular self, and I think I drowned the selectors in Kathryn that time round. I wasn’t less honest at the re-match, just less keen to share everything, no matter what!
5. Do you have any pre-interview rituals that give you confidence?
No – if I can only manage to leave the house in Good Time that is more than enough for me.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
I must be dotty
With everything else that is currently going on in my life, I've signed up for a whole month of blogging every day...
Let it be known that my thinking aloud will have at least regularity,if not substance, for the next 30 days.
My daughter may write novels, but me, I'm a humble blogger.
Let the posting commence
Happy NaBloPoMo everybody.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Journey On
This evening, for the 4th year running, St M's opened its doors to the families of those for whom we've conducted funerals over the past 2 years (who all received a personal invitation) and anyone else who wanted to come. They met for "A service of thanksgiving and remembrance" - something quite different from the traditional All Souls Requiem, with its list of names and general air of heavy solemnity.
People cry at this service, but they sometimes laugh too. Afterwards they share a glass of wine and talk about how they are making their way through their own particular valley of shadow. It's a huge privilege to see the courage and fidelity that keeps so many struggling onward - and the small miracles of hope that each person there represents.
It's a short service...barely half an hour of liturgy and at its climax comes an invitation to light a candle not only for the obvious losses that have brought them there, but also for any other experience of loss or disappointment, a baby never born, a friendship lost or broken...
This year I also offered the option of taking a seed away as a sign of hope - and to my amazed delight it seemed that everyone chose to do so.
We use words so much in the church. I love them - and they work for me - but tonight though my reflection seemed to hit the right note, it was the rituals and the music that spoke the greater truth.
All in the end is harvest.
People cry at this service, but they sometimes laugh too. Afterwards they share a glass of wine and talk about how they are making their way through their own particular valley of shadow. It's a huge privilege to see the courage and fidelity that keeps so many struggling onward - and the small miracles of hope that each person there represents.
It's a short service...barely half an hour of liturgy and at its climax comes an invitation to light a candle not only for the obvious losses that have brought them there, but also for any other experience of loss or disappointment, a baby never born, a friendship lost or broken...
This year I also offered the option of taking a seed away as a sign of hope - and to my amazed delight it seemed that everyone chose to do so.
We use words so much in the church. I love them - and they work for me - but tonight though my reflection seemed to hit the right note, it was the rituals and the music that spoke the greater truth.
All in the end is harvest.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
You need to read this
John Davies, a Greenbelt friend (and the author of one of these which look to be a thoroughly Good Thing) has been following the M62 across England from Hull to Liverpool for the past 2 months. He's a fine writer and his walking blog has been well worth reading, with much to ponder - but nothing more so than today's post.
The more I have been pummelled in the tumult of motorway ghosts speeding past me on my slow journey, the more I have become convinced of the deadliness of the disconnections our society has accepted. A people who can no longer move at walking pace, a people who must wall out children or run them down, a people radically disconnected from each other (whilst sharing the same spaces), a people radically disconnected even from our own bodies... I think we either have already died or are in an irreversably critical condition.
Go and read the rest here - I think that it is both important and beautifully written.
In conversation recently I concluded that perhaps the priestly task is, quite simply, to help people to see. What we should do and be once we have seen is another question, and a challenging one.
The more I have been pummelled in the tumult of motorway ghosts speeding past me on my slow journey, the more I have become convinced of the deadliness of the disconnections our society has accepted. A people who can no longer move at walking pace, a people who must wall out children or run them down, a people radically disconnected from each other (whilst sharing the same spaces), a people radically disconnected even from our own bodies... I think we either have already died or are in an irreversably critical condition.
Go and read the rest here - I think that it is both important and beautifully written.
In conversation recently I concluded that perhaps the priestly task is, quite simply, to help people to see. What we should do and be once we have seen is another question, and a challenging one.
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