Video: Taize Basel, European Meeting 2017

Towards Ordained Ministry: Session Six

This post details my experience of Session Six of the Towards Ordained Ministry course. See my previous posts about session one, two, four and five to find out what the TOM course is.

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Mission - Will you lead Christ’s people in proclaiming his glorious gospel, so that the good news of salvation may be heard in every place?

It was our final session, and although this was a great course, I was looking forward to having my Monday nights back! The odd thing about this last session was it was run by none other than Bishop Pete Broadbent! So having met the man for an all important interview the previous Wednesday, there he is again at the front of the lecture room. A bizarre amount of times to see a bishop in the space of a week, especially in the wake of my rector Lucy also doing a session! I half expected my DDO to walk through the door, to complete the set of priests involved in my discernment.

Pete was talking about mission. He said it was appropriate for a bishop, as "leading the church in mission" is one of the things for which we have bishops.

He started by describing the sort of context that we're working in for mission, which is one of non-traditional sacredness, "believing without belonging"; and also of course "more pluralist" within a diversity of faiths, especially in London. Our inheritance as future priests in the church is a trajectory of secular pluralism. At the local level, the common good can benefit from contributions from all faiths, but how it will go in the UK as a whole, what the future of the pluralism will look like, we can't know.

The rest of the session was based on Capital Vision 2020, which is the London Diocese's mission statement/strategy/idea/movement/premise...thing which is trying to innovate, create and support mission in the diocese but without reinventing the wheel so to speak.

A lot of my notes you can get from just browsing through the material available online about CV2020 itself, so here are few choice thoughts from +Pete as he went through.

• He quipped that church planting was "not just HTB clones!"
• He posed the question "are we a post-Christian society?" 
• 'Growth' is not just numbers but the growth of individuals' discipleship, and community impact
• The parochial system is odd but it still works; different in London of course
• 'Church' = "baptism, Bible, Eucharist, prayer, fellowship" but community might not be called to be 'church'
• London isn't very good at ecumenism
• CofE isn't very good at lay ministries such as evangelism, healing and teaching
• "The DNA of believing that God is going to make thing happen is crucial"
• He posed the question "is 'mega-church' good for us and is it working?"

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The previous sessions were:

- Authority - Do you accept the discipline of this Church and give due respect to those in authority?

- The Bible - Do you accept the holy Scriptures as revealing all things necessary for eternal salvation through faith in Jesus Christ?

- Doctrine - [I missed this one] Do you believe the doctrine of the Christian faith as the Church of England has received it, and in your ministry will you expound and teach it?

- Ministry - Will you be a faithful servant in the household of God, after the example of Christ, who came not to be served but to serve?

- Spirituality - Will you be diligent in prayer, in reading holy Scripture, and in all studies that will deepen your faith, and fit you to bear witness to the truth of the Gospel?

Video: Shadowing a priest in Scotland

That's a little snapshot of my week. I had such a good time. I've known the family for years, so it was good to be with friends and make new ones, and get away from work of course, but I also learnt a lot. I asked Alasdair if I could shadow him because staying with him and his family on previous occasions, I saw peripherally how his life as a priest was so different to the priests I know in central London.

The incident that set the idea in my mind was on his day off, answering the door in his pajamas and having to put on his wellies to go open up the church hall because whoever was supposed to hadn't! The vicar at the church where I work certainly wouldn't have cause to do that. It's good for me to see with my own eyes a situation I haven't really come across, namely a priest who is a radial point, the only full time person who ultimately looks after the church.

Also, his tradition is pretty Anglo-Catholic, and though my churches down in London are high enough to have robed servers and processions, Alasdair's Scottish Episcopal church is almost as far away from what I'm used to as the worship I experienced at the other end of the candle at Momentum or on Pentecost last summer, though not as high as my weekend with the Society of Catholic Priests. It's an important part of being in the Anglican Communion to understand the diversity of traditions held within it, and crucially it is in experiencing all these types of worship for myself that I am able to comprehend on a spiritual level that whilst my tastes and needs in liturgy and worship are different, God is in all of it.

So in doing thee's and thou's morning and evening prayer next door everyday, Mass both east facing and west facing (sometimes just the two of us), serving in cassock and cotta - I got my hands dirty in a way I didn't on the Catholic weekend away, plus Alasdair was very happy to answer my questions. Being with a priest who is not 'my' priest or just 'a' priest, but rather a friend, was a very useful space because (and this is also a mark of Alasdair's patience) I was able to push him to answer my questions further and defend anything I didn't understand or maybe didn't agree with, and also push back and challenge me.

That personal connection and staying with him and his family in the rectory was also able to give me insight into a priest as a whole, 'normal' person, that they talk about at vocation events, but is hard to actually understand in reality, to imagine a priest complexly, as the saying goes. At the same time, when off duty and in civvies, whilst not being the rector, even I as a friend and temporary member of his household could not shake an awareness of him being A Priest. That issue of perception is also often talked about at vocation events.

One thing I learnt about myself was I clarified why I don't like doing certain acts of kneeling in worship. I don't like kneeling to receive communion, and when I served on the Sunday in Scotland I had to genuflect, and boy, I did not like that either. It was as if, as my knee hit the marble, God winced. That kind of abasement is not part of our relationship. That's not to say I don't have a great reference for the Lord of the Universe, but you can have deep respect and show complete obedience without prostrating yourself. Sure, that's how some people show it, but I don't!

I'm also still processing something I 'learnt' in a way, but it's hard to articulate. It's something about being rooted in a place and how I don't feel called to that, at least not right away. I'm reminded of a sermon I heard about Psalm 84, and Hebrews 11 "They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one." I've written before how I don't feel like I have a 'home', but not in a bad way, because I look to making a home in God, and in a more tangible way, making a home where I find God in other people. I don't know, it just doesn't feel like that rootedness is part of my path ahead of me, til the distant future...

Anyway, I got away from my liberal urban bubble and also got to know some of the laity. They were all lovely and when I tagged along for home visits, everyone welcomed me in very gracefully. Sure I heard gossip and politics, but you get that everywhere there are people, and there was no maliciousness amongst the people I met. Talking to the theologian/CofS minister was also interesting to get away from Anglicanism and hear another story of vocation.

But against all that it was just a church serving God and creation. It is reassuring to feel the same undercurrent where ever two or three are gathered in Jesus' name, and to learn from people who are dedicated to God. As I said in the video, where ever I go, "it's still church".

Going Further: the heart of my faith = sharing the good news?

See this post for an intro to this series.

What is the heart of [the candidate's] faith: the good news they would wish to share with others? 

This is a very well-timed post to write considering my recent conversation with the rector about her reservations concerning my faith - what my relationship with God looks like, and how I express it to others.

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So turning to the question, my immediate response is the heart of my faith is a trust in God, and the the good news I wish to share with others is that they can trust God too. God is for everyone. That doesn't mean everyone should be Christian, be religious, or even put Jesus at the centre of their lives. Jesus is the good news but the Messiah, the Son of God, the Word Made Flesh is so much more than the bloke from Nazareth.

Jesus embodies the right ordering of creation, that God and humankind are in harmonious relationship. That is the good news, that is what Jesus being born into the world and fulfilling the Law shows us. God is for everyone because everyone should have a relationship with God. I like John's gospel best, even though it is dense as a jungle and a bit mind-bendy, because of the emphasis on the Spirit and that beautiful prologue about the Word. To have a relationship with God through Jesus is to know the Word by the power of the Spirit, and I don't think that necessarily means knowing the bloke from Nazareth.

I think our mission is to spread the Word, and the Word is however God best has a relationship with each person. Our Word, our story is a unique back and forth between each of us and God. Sure, I think the Christian church and being a follower of Jesus of Nazareth is probably the best road for the majority of people. But the 'majority' of all humankind that has lived, is living, and will live, still leaves a whopping number of people who are the minority (the minority of a massive number is still a big number).

I like the 'many paths on the mountain' pluralism metaphor. If God is the destination, the top of the mountain, there are many ways up the mountain. There are lots of places to start from, there are paths that intersect, and cross, and converge at points. And the top is big, so when people are looking to it, and reach it, it looks different to each individual. Exclusivists, those that say their path is the only one, imagine the mountain has a fence, and a gate to only one, fenced path. Pluralists think it's a free for all. Inclusivists like me think Christ has cleared one path, without any barriers, but some people want or need to go another way and it's just as legitimate, just maybe not as easy.

Terrible drawing of exclusivism

Terrible drawing of inclusivism

Terrible drawing of pluralism

I feel like the perception that is most pervasive among both religious and non-religious folks is that all religion is inherently exclusivist, and that doesn't sit right with most people in modern western first world culture, AND a lot of people in cultures of eastern religion (eastern theological thought is often a lot more pluralistic). I want to share the good news that it isn't like that! God is vastly more complex and loving than to have a boxed in, one-size-fits-all relationship with humankind, when humankind is beautifully and wonderfully made intrinsically varied and diverse. God has created each us as a unique soul so why would God need uniformity in our relationships with God?

The heart of my faith is a trust in God. Some people have trust issues; their relationship to God looks very different to mine. I rejoice with anyone who has a relationship to God and want to invite others to see the glory of serving the Creator who is at the heart of the world. But I don't want to tell them they have to trust God, or follow Christ, or anything other than what Jesus summed up as the only universal truth that everyone can take to heart is 'love God, love neighbour'. Everything else is up for debate, including what that looks like in different people's lives.

I feel the only evil we have to overcome is human evil, and the how and why are right there in the Great Commandment. I don't like overuse of 'evil' as a concept, which links to the terrible messages most people are getting about religion. I am religious because I want to see a better world, and following God in my way gives me the tools and strength to do my part in bringing about that better world. It's not a dogmatic as 'do what God says and you will receive the kingdom of heaven'. More like 'form a relationship with God and seek the ways of love that bring about the kingdom of heaven on earth'. The Word, and Love, are huge, world-encompassing aspects of the vastly greater reality of God, and for me, they are the aspects on which my trust hangs as the heart of my faith, and the aspects I feel called to express and bring people to, in their own way, by the grace of God partly working through me.

Going Further: Different models of mission and ministry

I've been digging through all the documents, forms and guidelines for candidates, DDOs, advisers, reference writers etc (available on the CofE website here). 

I would really recommend doing this - it gives a much better idea of what the church is looking for and what you're going to go through than pretty much any of the supposedly informative resources that are supposed to help you!

It's thrown up a few interesting points that I think I need to explore, either because I haven't yet explored them, or because I haven't explored them in as much depth as the documentation emphasises. I'm going to write a post on each point and this series of posts will be called "Going Further".

"Can the candidate reflect on different models of mission and ministry that they have experienced?"

I have been working on experiencing different models of ministry, but I'm not sure about different models of mission, and I haven't really reflected on the experiences I've had. Next month I'm hoping to put together some clips I've been recording about various churches I've visited, but two minutes to camera straight after a service isn't really deep reflection.

I will be the first admit that I haven't experienced a large range of ministry. When I first started going to church, it was in Australia whilst I was travelling, and I went to a different church every week as I made my way down the east coast, and continued doing so in New Zealand. But my memory of these services isn't extensive; they felt more in the vein of market research than worship at the time, and really I only remember being deeply impressed by the Antipodes' predilection for cake with their tea every week, not just biscuits!

Since then, I went to a few churches in London before St James' Piccadilly, but it is there that I have actually got to grips with communal worship and got involved, the only place I would class myself as a 'member of the regular congregation'. In the last few months, I've worshiped as a visitor in various places; I have been to lots of weekday services, worshiped at vocations events, done a whole weekend of Anglo-Catholic worship, and started familiarising myself with worship at my new church, St Martin-in-the-Fields. I have also chatted with several university chaplains, and helped one with some service feedback research.

Reflection
The Catholic weekend provided my first proper understanding of common parish ministry. It was very clear how geographical the focus was ie. their jurisdiction is the people and places within the parish bounds, and that was the biggest factor is the demographics of congregants, and the sort of services and programmes the churches offered. The physical parish sets the parameters of the ministry. There was no point in an incumbent being appointed and coming in with their own agenda. Their role seemed very reactionary, and the onus was very much on the clergy to be hands-on, in-charge, doing what was needed.

This ministry seemed restricted, and I don't mean that as a criticism, just an observation of the situation. They provided worship, that was their main mission, and then, where they could, helped those in need within the parish, supported local schools, and were involved in local life - events, charitable initiatives, celebrations etc. It was all very good work, and I admired how the prevailing attitude was can-do, positive, and doing the most that they could with what they had.

It was very different to ministry at SJP. SJP is a gathered community, so the geographical parish has little to no influence on the demographic of the congregation. It has been known for people to visit from the nearby hotels - I was very welcoming of a gentleman who strongly reminded me of the Monopoly man, and as we were chatting, I couldn't help but wonder if the three piece suit, chained pocket watch, bowler hat, and (I kid you not) monocle, as an outfit, might just be worth more than my parents' house - but it's rare. Stephen Fry lives in St James' Sq, and as a parish resident was kind enough to give us an interview for our quarterly magazine, but obviously doesn't come on a Sunday!

Anyway, the community of St James' has chosen itself. The church's main attraction is not it's the one nearest - the church's main attraction is its soul. The vision of the church is a radically inclusive interpretation of what it means to follow Christ, with a large drive to be proactive in creating change which can be seen in their mission statement. And the diversity of the community goes beyond one congregation. There are people who identify as part of the SJP community who have never met; it's a network of groups, and massive, multiple Venn diagram.

So it is deeply impressive that the ministry of St James' is just so good. I have been told over and over that there's nowhere like SJP and good gracious is that true! There is just so much going on - if that's the diagram of the people, imagine what management of it all would be drawn as! The key as I see it has been delegation. Ministry is provided by the clergy certainly, but also the entire team of staff really, like the vergers, and also a dedicated set of long-term volunteers, enthusiastic mid-term volunteers, ad-hoc volunteers, and basically everyone is welcome to pitch in.

It's a way to keep the behemoth running, and it works because of two things. One, the prevailing attitude is of encouragement and a rejection of judgement. And two, people respond to that attitude because they have chosen the church themselves, and if you've actively aligned yourself with a community, you are much more likely to want to support it.

Being a visitor at weekday services has been interesting; I’ve been to seven, three in Cambridge and four in London. I didn’t think about it before I started, but I shouldn’t have been surprised that the churches that are most likely to have actual services during the week – rather than other activities – are Anglo-Catholic, and high Anglican churches. So there hasn’t been the diversity of experience I thought I would get from visiting so many. It has been achingly lovely that the services are so familiar; the theory of Common Worship in practice is wonderfully reassuring for a newcomer.

It didn’t really give me an idea of their ministry though. I occasionally looked round at notice boards and the like, and the priests were varying degrees of welcoming. Some didn’t come up to me at all, some stood by the door and did a basic handshake greeting, and some kept me in conversation about myself, why I was there etc. Obviously the latter was most enjoyable for me (an extrovert). So the only ministry I really experienced was a dedication to keeping up tradition and a regular, frequent schedule of worship and Eucharist. Only two had coffee afterwards, both in Cambridge, and presumably they did so because they were morning services, as opposed to lunchtime or evening. The third morning service, also Cambridge, was nice simply because I was the only person who turned up, which pleased the priest no end. The intimacy of a two-person Eucharist was novel and absolutely great – the feeling of connection and sacredness was totally different to a big Sunday morning congregation affair.

The eighth church I have visited was a Sunday evening service at a conservative, evangelical church. TOTALLY different ministry, jeez. Not a Eucharist service, to my surprise. Millions of young people and students, singing worship songs with a band. A leader in casual normal clothes speaking about the church’s recent activity, and then interviewing one of the young people about their journey from Hindu to atheist to Christian, with very leading questions like “What was it that made atheism just not work for you?” Then a humongous sermon that didn’t really say much except repeat and underline very basic principles of the faith. And it was Pentecost, but was that mentioned? Nope. Which made this outfit I happened to be wearing stick out even more.

The leader came straight up to me and was very insistent in recommending I read the Gospel (as if I haven’t). A small part of me wondered if he thought I was possessed by a fire demon.

So obviously this experience was a very different ministry. The service was simple, singing and talking and reading the Bible. The thinking was minimal, the speaker similarly sticking with simple truths and not going very deep. Doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest, but people want different things out of their communal worship, and their religion itself I suppose. Not everyone responds/finds it useful to have a structured liturgical year, or have a physicality to their ritual of moving around, bowing, call and response, eating and drinking. For some, life is complicated, and religion is a way of having easy answers to big questions, so there is a part of life they don’t need to think or worry about.

It was popular, so the ministry did appeal to a lot of people. And – leaving the conservatism aside – creating a simple space for people’s spiritual life to be a relaxing, easy experience I suppose is a good ministry to provide, and the basic principles extolled were about the same as I’ve experienced elsewhere. I just hope that as the congregants get older, they go further afield to seek deeper wisdom so their journey with God doesn’t get stuck at this surface level beginners stage.

When it comes to mission, I don’t really think I have any experience. It immediately brings to mind “God Hates Fags” signs, and that’s definitely from media intake rather than personal experience.  My reflection on my experience of mission is that I need to get some!

Video: Living on a prayer

Less vocation-related, but a sharing of only my second experience leading a group religious discussion about prayer. See the video for my presentation, or the full text is below, followed by notes from the discussion.

Prayer is a big topic, but here at Circus Spirit, we decided to concentrate on “What is prayer?” and “Does it work?”

What is prayer? A year ago, I might have been able to give you a simple answer, when actually I didn’t really know.

Does it work? Again, a year ago, I would have shied away from thoughts of ‘the power of prayer’. I knew that I was supposed pray, but I also knew that I was absolutely terrible at it. I chose this topic in no small part to educate and motivate myself.

But improving at prayer is a tricky business. Priest Kevin Scully puts it quite neatly: “How does one learn to pray? By praying. Is there a way to learn more about prayer? Yes, by praying. What does one do if one experiences barrenness in prayer? Pray. How can one deepen a sense of the divine? By prayer.”

It’s a very subjective act, and I would put forward that ‘what is prayer’ and ‘does it work’ are both subjective questions.

That said, as with most human activities, there are a lot of similar experiences. Prayer is a common feature of most religions, and even people who don’t have a religion, pray, often in their own way and for their own reasons. People pray for all sorts of reasons and to all sorts of objects – to one divinity, to many gods, or to gurus, spirits or angels, saints or the dead, or concepts, like ‘Wisdom’, personified in the Psalms for example.

I talk to God. I talk to God with a reverence that I would give a leader and a boldness as if I were talking to a friend. My most common prayer is gratitude. My second most is generally a desperate plea for help.

This echoes a classic structure of prayer from my own religion, Christianity. It is often described as ‘adoration, confession and petition’; I was introduced to it long before I knew such big church words; I was introduced to it by a friend, whose advice was to pray the ‘teaspoon prayer’. TSP = thank you, sorry, please.

This is the way that I and many sustain our connection to God. Like any relationship, it takes time and effort, and whilst good to acknowledge where we know we’ve done wrong and ask forgiveness, the confession, it is also a dynamic of give and take – adoration and petition. As for petition, I ask for things, I do, because it’s not a one sided relationship where only I put in an effort.

And as for adoration, I praise God for the blessings in my life and the wonders in the world. Whilst I do try to show this gratitude in my everyday life, it is important for our relationship to communicate directly and put into words my gratitude.

Note, I did not say it was important for God, but important for our relationship. Often an intellectual barrier to beginning, growing and sustaining a prayer life is, if God, an all-knowing divinity already knows what I’m sorry for, how grateful I am, and what I want or need, why ask? Now, as a religious person, an easy answer for me to give would be ‘because God commands it’.

But that’s not good enough. That’s not enough reason, for me. So I found a few reasons why God might command it. As these are my thoughts, they are inevitably Christian-centric, and they certainly aren’t an exhaustive list. They may not even be right! But here we go.

Why would God command us to pray? If we were blessed without supplication, if we got good things in life having not asked at all, we could be tempted to assume independence. For God and humanity both, that is the opposite of what many feel are our true natures. They would say our natures, God’s and humanities natures, are of relationship; we can see it in humanity, because many agree that it is a base purpose and desire of a person to seek connection and intimacy, and we see it in God, in Christianity anyway, because God is a trinity, a single power in a status of eternal relationship.

Similarly, many would say that God desires communion, like a Father finds an unreadable scribble given by his child precious beyond measure. It cannot be denied that people’s experiences throughout the millennia have been of a divinity that communicates. Now you may not think any of the experiences were supernatural or divine in nature, but you can understand the conclusion of some of those who do think they were divine, that God communicates because God does want to hear from us directly, even though it has no impact on what God knows. It is not the content of, nor even the scribble itself that the Father cherishes; it is the act of giving, and being given the scribble that bonds the child and parent.

As I said, a relationship needs effort, and cooperation on both sides. For a lot of people, prayer opens our hearts so God may work on us; we have to open our end before God can easily get through. This is also a reason we need to pray to an all-powerful God – even an all-powerful God would hope to work with a subject that is willing and open to being worked upon. I’m not saying it’s necessary, but you can understand why God would prefer it that way.

Christianity also has a tradition of meditation, which is attempting to reflect on revelations of God; and a tradition of contemplation, which is simply bathing in God’s love.

An answer to the question ‘what is prayer’, in comparison to these two similar states, meditation and contemplation, might be that prayer is focused time of sometimes monologue, and sometimes dialogue, that we may be aware of grace and blessing, and aware of our own wrongdoing; a time to remember to be grateful, and to be repentant. To my mind, prayer is pure attention, an expression of our response to life and the world.

David Macintrye wrote of prayer in the 1800s, and he quoted someone called John Laidlaw who said “A sense of real want is the very root of prayer”.

But if that’s the case, what’s with all the tat that often surrounds prayer? What’s with prayer beads, mandalas, prayer mats, icons, bells to get God’s attention, using scripture to pray, and all the millions of words of written prayers, whole books of them?

Now this can be answered in two ways, and applied to all props, costume and ritual in religion – firstly, humanity is a bit rubbish left on its own to contemplate the ‘other’ in the world; most of humanity needs tools to help it focus, otherwise ‘pure attention’ is corrupted by the distraction of something shiny, or delicious, or naked, that seems must more important and certainly more interesting. Nothing wrong with shiny, delicious, naked things, but if you want a relationship with God, if you want to connect with that ‘other’ within you and all around you, if you want a chance to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, you have to pay attention.

And secondly, prayer can be a sensual experience, not just about what you say. The words may be intensified by the tactile motion of running prayer beads through your fingers. Or if you’re not speaking but ‘listening to the silence’, an atmosphere enhanced by pungent incense, or an environment with rich beauty for the eyes to feast on, or an icon of a saint whose life story speaks to you of God; even the colourful, embossed cover of a book of holy scripture which glorifies its contents – if you’re listening to the silence, that experience, that living in the moment of stimulated senses, the experience itself of the coming together of beauty, that experience can be a wordless prayer

So the need for ritual is common, even in silent spontaneous prayer.  In Islam, there is an understanding of two areas of prayer, the spontaneous, and the official to be recited. Most rituals offer some form of written prayer.

There’s private written prayer, such as a prayer diary, or prayers written on the prayer boards in churches. There are official prayers, in the aforementioned books of prayers, or prayers of intercession at public acts of worship that are composed in advance for the occasion. Prayers can be danced, said, sung, said in tongues, chanted.

And of course there are religious structures of daily prayer. Official practice, either mandated or not, is for Muslims to pray 5 times a day, Jews to pray 3 times a day, and for some Christians to pray 8 times a day (though most prescribe 2 as a more reasonable practice!).

Prayer does have a spiritual core, but it is often most effective when it has a practical element. That is why it is a practice, and we are often called to incorporate it as part of our lives, not just let it sit isolated and separate from our lives.

I’m going to end by quoting Richard Sibbes, an Anglican theologian from the Elizabethan era, who has a practical answer to why we should pray. He said “It was a rule in ancient times, “Lay thy hand to the plough, and then pray.” No man should pray without ploughing, nor plough without prayer.” Which is a pretty way of saying life is not worth living without attempting to find its meaning, but wrestling with that meaning is pointless without also living.

Amen.

Points raised in discussion afterwards:

- pray to live, live to pray

- change perspective from if I don't get get what I ask for, God isn't listening

- God can still get in if we are closed

- sense of 'in the moment'

- prayer provides refocus, leads to perspective and can have effect

- prayer, meditation and contemplation can be linked and feed into each other

- not just we speak to God and God speaks to us, the conversation can overlap in the 'Spirit praying within us'

- all-powerful God's power is love and love is not coersive

- the act of prayer can generate the words, rather than the reverse

- should not feel guilty about petition

Video: First chat with the curate

I covered pretty much everything I wanted to say in this video, which is why it's a bit long.

Being 'religious'

In the last few months I have realised that I am religious. It may sound weird, that I have only just realised this, looking at my life:

- I've identified as Christian since I was 6
- I have worn a crucifix 24/7 since I was 14, so for almost a decade
- I have been going to church every week for over 4 years

- I'm baptised and, more importantly, confirmed
- I've been increasingly involved in church life, including
     - singing in the choir
     - reading the gospel
     - being a server
     - running the Circus Spirit
     - substituting for the cantor
- I pray daily
- I use prayer beads
- I get ashed and wear it for the rest of the day
- I plan on reading the Bible in a year in 2016
- I keep a spiritual journal
- I stay overnight and sleep in the church for the Easter Vigil
- I even took a month off work to volunteer in Advent

To other people, I am obviously religious. I, and others, find it odd if I don't wear a cross, and I get angsty if I miss a Sunday morning for whatever reason. In such a precarious career as freelance theatre stage manager, church is one of the anchors in my life, alongside my family, my boyfriend, and my friends. My aims in life include living by the Great Commandment, and the Golden Rule; being a disciple to Jesus; centering and orientating my life around my relationship with God.

I'm obviously religious. But if you had asked me last year what I identified as, the list would not have included 'religious'. It was only when someone asked me if one of my friends at church was religious that I said "well, yeah, he is, but he only goes to church as much as I do...oh..." and the penny dropped.

I was taken aback. I almost wanted to defend myself against the accusation. And it's this reaction that has made me think about it a bit deeper. Why did I not want to be called 'religious', when it is true? I'm not claiming the "I'm not religious, I'm spiritual" thing, but I would much rather be 'a person of faith'.

'Faith' has a better rep than religion. I think it's definitely a generational thing; there's a feeling of peer pressure to avoid the 'religious' label, and in many ways, a common issue young Christians have is an instinct to hide their religion. Easier to come out as bisexual than Christian! Millennials pride themselves of being progressive, and liberal, and reasonable, and that leads to a rejection of all things seen as not based on reason, including any spirituality or, and especially, a belief in God. Believing in God is often seen as an indication of inferiority, and so going as far as to be religious itself implies an

irrational adherence to dogma. Modern Western mainstream culture seems to take the view that, alongside gender and race equality, freedom of sexuality, and freedom of speech, the conclusion that there is no God is the obvious, and basically only acceptable, conclusion. It's fashionable to hate religion.

One cannot be religious and considered reasonable, rational, even maybe intelligent. So I think my initial instinct to reject the term comes from a fear that it will class me in the same category as religious fundamentalists, religious nutters, religious terrorists, religious indoctrination, conservatism, creationism, zealots, the judgmental, the out of touch. Calling people religious is often a way of excluding them based on assumptions about their views or behaviour ie. it's a label, so in narrow minds leads to prejudice.

But I am religious. Not because I have been indoctrinated, not because I think everyone should live their lives the way I do, and not because it's easier. I am religious because I practice religion, but I

practice good religion. Bad religion is exactly what Jesus railed against when arguing with the Pharisees etc. Good religion is a structure, a set of tools to sustain the faith, the relationship with Jesus, God, the universe. The practices, the actions and works are not the important bit, but I need them, flawed human being as I am, to keep up my end of the relationship. I use the combined wisdom of the tradition and scripture to give me a head start, rather than starting at the beginning on my own. I wouldn't get anywhere! It's also a useful motivation to do things that, even though reason and experience tell me I should, I probably wouldn't end up doing if on my own.

This is if I get it right, and I do fail, of course I do. When I fail, my religiosity is just as insubstantial and a distortion as it was when Jesus threw his wobbly in the Temple. And that's where the negativity of 'religious' catches me, and makes me squirm. It's a reminder that though I am aware of good religion, and I try my best, religion gets in my way sometimes, making me no better than the fundamentalists I so desperately do not want to be.

But my hope is that I get it right enough to outweigh when I get it wrong. I hope I can live a life that is, yes, religious, but in a way that makes people rethink their assumption that being religious is necessarily a negative thing. I find so much that is good, and useful, and wonderful, in religion, and somehow, I hope I can show that to others.

PS a good book to show more of the good in religion than the "religions do good stuff" argument, I recommend Religion for Atheists by Alain de Botton.