Love story of redemption

I don't do this often, if I've even ever done it, but I was kind of chuffed with a recent sermon of mine, and seeing as some (though very few) have asked to read it, I thought to post it up here.

Christmas Day 2021

A week or two ago, I saw on Twitter that there was a radio adaptation of one of my favourite books, Howl's Moving Castle, so one evening when I was too tired to even watch television, I got a hot water bottle, a blanket, and a cup of tea, and I just listened to the story. It was a lovely hour, and afterwards I said to my partner, “I don't really know why I love this book so much”, and his instant response was, “love story of redemption”. And I was just stunned, first by how well he knows me and as I will explore, being truly known is a cornerstone of love, but second by the totemic and fundamental nature of that phrase. Love story of redemption. That’s an integral understanding of our faith. That's four words that sum up the gospel. And from an agnostic!

So if you don’t know it, Howl's Moving Castle is a fantasy novel about Sophie Hatter, a young woman full of grace and truth who has an astonishing power – her words can breathe life into the world. She inadvertently speaks spells over the hats she makes, and draws the attention of the villain, The Witch of the Waste, an incredibly vain woman who has given her heart to a fallen star in exchange for power, and who is threatened by Sophie’s magic. She curses Sophie to appear to be an old woman.

Sophie doesn’t think it’s too bad, but it does mean she has to leave, as she can’t tell her family about the curse, and they won’t recognise her. Once she heads off, she ends up at the titular moving castle, which floats over the hills around her town. She enters and finds Michael who is the apprentice to the castle’s owner, the Wizard Howl, and she also meets Calcifer, a fire creature stuck in service to Howl in a contract that Calcifer persuades Sophie to figure out and break. He promises in exchange to lift her curse that he has been able to recognise. When Howl turns up, he accepts Sophie as a live-in housekeeper, and she starts to get to know him.

Howl thinks he is literally king of the castle, but really he’s a mess. He’s overdramatic, spends hours getting ready in the bathroom, and he pursues young women until they fall in love with him, at which point he scarpers. Sophie describes him thus: “he's fickle, careless, selfish, and hysterical. Half the time I think he doesn't care what happens to anyone as long as he’s alright but then I find out how awfully kind he's been to someone. Then I think he's kind just when it suits him, only then I find out he undercharges poor people. I don't know, he's a mess.” A prophetic moment is when Michael says that he'll know when Howl is truly in love when Howl doesn't bother to primp and preen before going out.

Now here come some spoilers, but luckily I can’t possibly sum up the whole book, because there’s a whole series of storylines that all wrap up together at the end, so please, do read it if you haven’t already. Sophie realises she’s fallen in love with Howl, but resigns herself to being invisible to him. The Witch of the Waste wants the punish Howl because she is one of the women he dumped, and so sets up an elaborate trap. Sophie falls for it, thinking there’s an innocent woman to save, and in an act of sacrifice for Howl, Sophie is captured in the Waste. Howl comes tearing across the country to save her, unshaven, clothes a mess, dirty and dishevelled, his complete focus on Sophie causing him to ignore his own appearance. Sophie finally works out that Calcifer is a fallen star who has Howl’s heart to stay alive, so she takes Howl’s heart from Calcifer, a heart blackened and shrivelled, and breathes new life into Calcifer, before putting Howl’s heart back in his flesh and dispelling its darkness. She finds she has been transformed back to a young woman, and it turns out that Howl has been falling in love with her in return. They defeat all the baddies, Calcifer decides to stay, and the three of them with Michael become a happy little family.

So. It’s a love story of redemption. What I see is relationship, existence, and identity. What I see is the Christmas story, at least from the cosmic perspective, from the perspective of John’s gospel. It’s not a huge surprise as the author, Dianna Wynne Jones, attended lectures at Oxford by both JRR Tolkien, and CS Lewis.

Relationship, existence and identity, exactly that I see in the John reading. It's all there. How do you know love? How do you see it? How do you choose it?

The villain is ego, diverting our resources towards power and control, and making snap judgements based on appearances and fear, manipulating the world with aggression and duplicity.

The hero is unassuming, devoted, kind, compassionate, and very brave. Words, which are both rational and creative, see through the dazzle and the lies. The truth is brought to light, and life is breathed into the world, where even the wastelands would break forth into song. To persist, to see, and know, and love, that is what wins, a sacrifice that might not be requited. That is what leads to a tidy home, the end of evil, and a disparate household that becomes a united family.

The protagonist – look, I’m afraid in this analogy, we’re the wizard, humanity is Howl. On his own, he is an absolute mess, without eyes to see, not living a true life. His heart is confined by bad habits and destructive ways of thinking. He resists love at first sight, even at second and third. He needs light to see and truth to know. And he can’t do it on his own. It is only when he begins to take responsibility that he runs towards what is good for him, that he devotes himself to the right relationship, not power, that he starts to leave behind that which was sucking the life out of him. It is only when he is honest about his need for the one who loves him that he starts to participate in the work that will truly redeem both himself and his world. 

But even once he has made the right choice, it is the one who is the word of life who must give him his new heart, his new flesh, the ability to love truly. She came to him, to be with him, and she saw him, the truth of him, and she loved him. Being known, truly, is a cornerstone of love. He was blind at first, but then he saw, he chose, he changed, and no longer king of the castle, he became hers. The relationship shifted, deepened, and his heart newly recreated beat with intimate access to the cosmic reality that is true love.

Relationship is our purpose, the ability to love truly.

Existence means nothing with power, but everything with love.

Identity is dynamic, chosen and given, seeing and knowing and devoting.

God sees us, and knows us, and sought us out even as we built our illusions and castles in a world forlorn. God persisted, even as we did not know him, born in a backwater, little tiny heart beating for the world in his little tiny chest. He loved us into existence, his purpose in being born was to invite us into relationship, and in choosing love he gives us our identity, he gives us a heart of flesh, the gift of true love. A love story of redemption

07/09/2021 Six years a-calling

Yet again an anniversary post that is a little late!

What does it mean to have a calling once you've been ordained?

The 'process' is so geared towards this final goal of ordination that it has nothing more to say afterwards. It's about post-ordination training. You're not discerning any more, you're doing it, you're living out your calling.

Well, I think that's not the right attitude at all. At the moment, I am following a training path of discovering what kind of priest I am to be. Then I must discern where I am called to after curacy, how to navigate things on my own, and also negotiate all the different parts of my life together as a priest. Discerning the lifestyle that goes with the vocation is as never-ending a task as the vocational stuff itself.

Life leading up to priesting proved a challenge. I kept forgetting that I was going to be priested, that it is a big deal and that I should have been getting excited by it. There was no building of anticipation. I will have to look back on my life and see two ordinations that were stripped back, joyless stepping stones, rather than celebratory, defining moments, as well as attend the ordinations of others that will be everything I never got, and I am severely disappointed. Is that selfish? Should I not just be glad that I could be priested? 

I have had some very formative moments recently enabling me to put into practice the theory about boundaries - how to put ministry things aside when having time off, how to put personal things aside when at 'work', plus deciding what priorities I have, when does the personal reasonably intrude, when does ministry reasonably ask sacrifice. This is also the tussle I'm having with my feelings about the priesting. I find it hard to discern what is reasonable to be upset about, and what is actually just one of the many parts of the vocation that I have to accept as asking a lot and move on. 

Once you're ordained, what are you willing to do or forsake for your calling?

My answer to that in 2021 will be different to what I would have said in 2015 before all this, and to what I would have said in 2019 while at college. It will change again over the years, I am sure. As will the answer to what I am not willing to do. 

Luckily, I am in a tradition where I could get excited about my first mass. Being priested meant starting to preside at the eucharist, and the first time I did that, I was able to actually be with the people who love and support me, as well as the people of my parish. What it means to have a calling right now is reflecting on what the eucharist means and what my part in it will be, as well as learning how my TI wants me to do it, and what I like and what I don't. 

Thoughts of the future are also getting bigger and bigger. In 2016, life narrowed down to the next year at SMITF, then it turned to the next three years at Cranmer, now it is the next 20 months of curacy with thoughts to what next after that. Will I get into the army, train at Sandhurst, then start as a chaplain? Is that where I'll be in 2024? Nothing is certain, nothing as been certain since I started this journey, but with the priesting, there is only being signed off my curacy as the final, definite hurdle, after which the world opens up again and I can look to live with opportunity and possibility, with more certainty, or at least choice and autonomy, than I'll have known for almost ten years. Only 20 months left on the vocation treadmill, and then... anything. 

Am I 'called' to be an army regulars padre? Am I called to a combination of roles, part time at a cathedral, a college chapel, and reserves army perhaps? Am I called to a particular part of the country, or to travel to different places around the world?

Right now I'm more concerned with the sermon I haven't finished, the LLF discussion group next week, the Advent course to write, the Christingle service to plan, the Deanery Chapter meeting we're hosting, posters to design and send off to print, a possible wedding couple to meet, an assembly series on the Lord's Prayer to design, going on two self-led readings days, trying to get ahead on Christmas cards and presents, my tax return is due, and the works on my leaking roof are still going on.

I wrote about the micro and the macro in my last blogpost, and that continues. What I've been reflecting on recently is how much I'm working out what I have learnt over the last six years. Noticing moments that I can track back to my year at St Martin's for example. My hairdresser commented recently that she was always impressed that I was able to answer all her questions, that I knew so much and could quote the Bible. Now, I don't think of myself as excelling in theological education - I have evangelical friends who know the Bible way more, catholic friends who know history and liturgy way more, and fellow curates who are much better and wider read than me in theology. 

But six years in, one thing I have is six years of doing this, intentionally, on top of interest and church engagement for 4 years before that. I am so, so grateful that I got three years to study, that I have a budget for putting books on my expenses, the time to put aside two days to read. I don't talk theology academically a lot, but those 6-10yrs are the underpinning of all that I do (on top of 29 years in relationship with God). 

Whether I'm debating integrity with the vicar, explaining marriage law to the LLF group, bantering at POT about how many sacraments there are, having tea with the only other female clergy person in the deanery, having dinner with a bereaved congregation member, chatting with the headteacher after assembly, shadowing the local hospital chaplain, scheduling emails, voting for Synod, handling DBS checks, hauling chairs from church to my house, communicating on the parents WhatsApp, or interviewing an evangelical who is against same-sex marriage - it's all coming from the years already done and the continuing study and formation, and generally not consciously at all.

It feels like, since August, I have started to turn a corner in my curacy. I am starting to show a marked confidence in most of what I'm doing, which is really encouraging. One factor will definitely be that since things opened up again in July and people are feeling more confident about living with Covid, I've been able to know people better, get to know some I had not even met yet, and just spend time over things that used to be restricted or impossible.

I definitely need a retreat though. This comes up every time I have spiritual direction. I had gotten into the discipline of a week's true retreat once a year, generally in the summer. That just wasn't possible last year, fair enough, but still hasn't been possible this year, which is starting to be a problem. That's why I'm using up annual leave for a week off soon, and two of those days are dedicated non-fiction reading days - both in bookshop cafes, one in this city, one in another. It's a plaster over the issue, and I'm planning on a proper retreat in the new year, but it'll tide me over, I hope.

One last thing I'll leave with you. The feeling of 'calling' waxes and wanes; sometimes I just don't have any sense of why I'm doing this with my life, other times I am overwhelmed with a sense of rightness and purpose. One of those times was when I read this sermon by Sam Wells as part of my sermon prep. It brought up feelings I don't think I've really felt in earnest since I plunged into college. I now relate to the opening illustration, the sense that my priesthood is bigger than my religion, the difficulty of being obedient, and holding to the fundamentals as "being practiced in the presence of God and being a reconciling presence in the life of others". I have definitely started to see what it means "to open your heart not only to see your own tears but to share the tears of others, to face the bleakness and tragedy of much of human life sustained only by one fragile consolation – that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ".

I'm up and running in 'Year Two' of curacy though it feels a bit like 'Year One 2.0'. Six years later I've come so far, and I thank God for getting me here. Who knows what will happen over the next 12 (11!) months?

Being priested

Please note: Some of these posts were written on my retreat, and because of Covid, it was a restricted experience compared to 'normal'. This blog is committed to recording how I felt in the moment throughout my journey of vocation, so please take these thoughts in that spirit, especially coming from an external processor (!) rather than being a definitive picture of my eventual opinion of the whole experience.

Also, pictures are near the end!

Friday 18th June 2021 11am - 1pm

The retreat itself is a pretty restricted affair, due to various factors. On Wednesday, we gathered at the church in the evening for the Bishop's charge, and a rehearsal of the service. We left our robes there, and returned home (though one of the other curates and I went to a local pub for pizza first).

Yesterday I was at home, logging onto Zoom a few times for prayers and addresses from the retreat leader. Around these online pockets, the plumbers were in looking at a leaky pipe, I did my laundry, did the hoovering, and cleaned the bathroom, made meals and drinks, had a lovely nap, went into church to have a practice of my first mass, read the paper, scrolled Twitter, and spent the evening as I usually would, watching streaming platforms on the TV.

I think it was a very good way to spend the day. Others have different needs and capabilities in these weird times of 'remote' retreats, and all power to them. I really enjoyed doing the offices, even on Zoom, especially in the morning as we don't pray corporate morning prayer at my curacy church; and the addresses have been good too, based on the Five Little Scrolls.

Now we have arrived at the retreat house, Friday morning. We started with a Eucharist, then our third address, and now we're just milling around the lounges until our rooms are ready at 4pm. I made the point at my deaconing retreat (which was Wed-Sat) how it took me two days to actually settle in, "properly stop and feel myself relax" because it is difficult to wind down. I do not anticipate getting to any state of reflection before we go to the church tomorrow afternoon. I would normally go on retreat somewhere in the country, and spend a lot of time on my own, both in private in my room, and on long walks. The latter is of no use to me in East London - this retreat house is fine and lovely but the location just doesn't suit me for a retreat - and the former is rather curtailed by the wait. I totally understand that checking into these places necessitates these waits, but we're leaving at 4pm tomorrow, so I just don't think I am going to get the time and space I need for this retreat to have significant impact.

At least I am less nervous/stressed than I was about the deaconing. There's no intimidating grandeur like there was at the cathedral, with the diocesan bishop, and I'll have a few more people in the congregation (last time it was 4, tomorrow it will be 15. Friends! Parishioners! BOTH my parents!!). Everyone is not clenched and terrified about Covid practice and being caught getting it wrong; we all know the drill now. I feel confident and excited about taking on these new orders, taking on the responsibility of presiding at the eucharist, this calling set apart to minister in word and sacrament, and "tell the story of God's love". 

Regulars on this blog will know my use of the analogy of God's workshop in my vocation journey. Previously I was up on my axles, then I was pootling round the yard getting used to the changes. Now I think is the time I will leave the yard, and head out onto the road. I am called to be a priest, and tomorrow I will be ordained a priest. Being deaconed was a major boundary crossing, adding holy orders on top of being part of the laity, so in one way, being priested is a lesser boundary. But it is the culmination moment, the climax of this first chapter of following my vocation, they are the orders that ultimately determine who I am supposed to be.

Tomorrow will be what it will be, another restricted affair, after a disappointing retreat, but it's really not the end of the world. I'll get over it. I'm going to be a priest! That's the thing that means anything. I can go back to my parish, and bless them, declare that they are forgiven, and step into the role of our great high priest to provide that liminal space that God may meet God's people, and the people may meet God, at Jesus' table. Ritual matters, and ordination services as they usually are have a purpose; I look forward to the future when they can return in full glory. But I will not be less of a priest without it. My family, friends and people of the parish will not be less part of our journey together as a community of many callings of which this is one milestone.

Saturday 11am-12noon

After lunch yesterday, I ended up chatting to some of the other deacons and it was really great, having spent months not being able to get to know them at post-ordination training because it was on Zoom. We got into our rooms about half three, and I unpacked, then watched an episode of something before Evening Prayer. It was good to finally have some privacy and truly be able to relax. I may be an extrovert, but being on retreat is one time I will happily claim the need for solitude and quiet. We prayed, then had a lovely dinner, followed by drinks and nibbles together. It was really nice just to socialise with our peers. This extrovert got both things she needed! After compline, I retreated (lol) again and had some quiet time before going to sleep. 

This morning we had breakfast, morning prayer and our last address, I read a bit of the paper, and now we are milling around again having had to leave the rooms at 11. Again I recognise the necessity of this whilst expressing my frustration that the situation does necessitate it. I'm now in the lounge again, surrounded by some day visitors having tea. We will have a final act of worship, lunch, then some are leaving at 2 for the first service, we're leaving at 4. Who knows what we'll do while we wait, I have already suggested the pub! I am currently in my jeans as we've been told we can ask to have a room briefly to get changed in later.

Today I will be ordained a priest. I was very glad that the retreat leader gave us permission in her address that today is not a day for profound thoughts. The pressure for this retreat to be so solemn and reflective and profound has been noticeable, though who knows if I'm imagining it. You can read the subtext in what I have written that I am trying to justify that it has not felt that profound or explicitly 'spiritual' so far for me. It hasn't been wasted time for all that though. It has been a chance to put aside all other pulls on my resources and time, an opportunity to be together with those going through the same journey, and a pause to ready myself for the whirlwind this evening. God is good at taking advantage of such things. I trust that the Spirit is always working.

I have made the most of it in truthful acknowledgement of my capabilities and needs. I am also lucky that I don't have a spouse, kids or any other household to coordinate much with, other than telling my guests what they need to know, so I can concentrate on myself before I am made a priest in the Church of God for the rest of my life. I am also lucky that I have parishioners in my curacy church who want to come a celebrate this moment with me, so the next chapter of my priesthood over the next few years has connection to the people I will be serving first. I am supported, by those who love me, those I work with, and those I am church with, which is a joy because they all play a part in this moment of my life following Jesus, a life which means nothing without others. I am not being made a priest for me, I am being made a priest for all God's people to and with whom I will minister, over the next decades of my life.

There's an overlay of the micro and the macro today. Short-term, being priested now means going back to the parish and being able to preside, starting next Sunday. It means a change of rota, a change of focus in my training, additional ability to connect with people. But long-term, and ontologically, being priested now means starting a significant part of what my life means, of my purpose and place under God. It means going forward to many places and being able to preside there too, to be eventually trained to the point that I will follow calls to other places, and many people, and exercise all that priestly ministry encompasses. 

I want to hold to both of these. It is the unenviable position of Christians to live in the abundance of both/and, for we follow the Christ who ruptured false binaries, such as divine and human, joy and suffering, micro and macro. It does not lessen the importance of either to hold to both, and in that complicated and difficult sweet spot, I feel closer to God, for I am closer to the Truth, the Way and the Life. My way and my life today is both celebrating with my friends and family that my years of priesthood are beginning, and also embracing my immediate future of being part of leading our little corner of the kingdom from my privileged position at a simple wooden table. 

This retreat has given space for us to reflect on the the personal significance of being priested, and I am grateful. From tomorrow, it will get subsumed into the micro, and I will joyfully be part of that as well. Both/and. Giving up your life and receiving abundant life. Living for others and knowing Christ died for you. Church of God and parish life. 

Sunday 7pm-8.30pm

I am a priest. Boom. 

It is bizarre to look back and see how long it has been since I first articulated a call, a call to this, this which I am now. I am no charismatic, but I have had a few moments of mystical encounter, and lots of Providence. One thing these last few days has linked now with all the way back to my late teens, 16-18, when I first said something about priesthood (which was ridiculous because I had only ever gone to church annually for the Christingle). I drew something, which I saw in my head, in some notebook somewhere. It was a black and white compass. I was bowled over last September when I went to the Royal Foundation of St Katherine and found that same image in the marble of the floor of the chapel. This time round, I have been able to accept and process this, this wonderful connection point that gives such continuity to a journey that has not always taken an obvious path. And the quote around it from St Augustine of Hippo is outstanding - "We do not come to God by navigation, but by love".

Yesterday was amazing. My heart was pounding as we started the service, having been cloistered away from all our supporters as they arrived. The moment of kneeling with the bishop's hands on my head, and my training incumbent's hand on my shoulder, was one of unexpected peace, calm and deep joy. I found so many reasons to smile throughout the rest of the service. 

Laying on of hands

It was such a happy time afterwards to greet all my supporters - representatives from my parish, my friends from my sending church, clergy who have been part of my journey, my family, my godfather, my friend who has been with me since those odd times as teenagers, and my incredible partner who did a sterling job holding me steady in my over-excitement. 

Training incumbent Steve, and members of St Johns'

After much cautious hugging and greeting everyone who had come, I got changed went for dinner with family and friends at a local pub. It felt so normal, and I was overwhelmed that I got some fabulous presents, ranging from holy oil stocks and a wooden paten and chalice, to a Jesus Shaves mug and a ring with a saga behind it. We ate, we drank, we were merry.

Me and my friend Simon, a fellow cider drinker

This morning I attended the two services at my curacy church, laying the altar and reading the gospel. I wore my stole in its new arrangement - as a deacon, I wore it across my body over the left shoulder and tied at my right hip, for the diaconate is a serving ministry, and this is reminiscent of the towel Jesus tied around himself to wash the disciples feet; 

Deacon

I am still a deacon, but now I have had the orders of a priest added, and so I wear the stole around my neck and hanging down on either side of my front, for a priest takes the role of Christ at the table, and so takes on his yoke, which we kiss when we put it on because the burden is light.

Priest!

Sitting there in St John's sanctuary with this small change to indicate what had changed in me, I felt like I had landed. That's the best way I can describe it. This is where I am, and who I have become, and it is right and good. It's an incredible feeling, like realising you're in love with someone and they are in love with you, and everything has aligned just right; like walking into somewhere you feel is home and relaxing in your bones with tension you didn't realise you had; like finishing the last of a long series of books you've been reading for years. 

The journey continues. This is not the end, but another beginning (yay for cliches). And I am well up for it!