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!

What is expected of me?

Bear with me on this one - I need to tell an anecdote but it does get to a point eventually!

I had a weird day yesterday (Sunday 10th June 2018). I got up to go to the cathedral to acolyte and I already knew something was wrong. On Friday we had our summer party, and though I did not drink or stay up particularly late, I still had a long day (including taking two classes at placement) and an energetic party. Then on Saturday I got up at 4.45am to catch a train to Cambridge, where I spent a full day reflecting on my trip to Johannesburg in September before getting the return train to Durham, getting back, cooking/eating, and going to bed.

So I already knew Sunday, yesterday, was going to be a bit of a struggle. I was tired, but to start with I only had that odd ache that's not actually painful in my head and face, if you know what I mean. I arrived at the cathedral, and the others in the serving team came in one by one, and we ended up in a different configuration to the plan - I was altar server rather than acolyte, and I was to administer the chalice for the first time.

But my theatre background did me some credit, being able to roll with these punches. But I got a much bigger 'punch' when one of the team came in, sat down, and opened with "You are always so rude". Startled, I asked for clarification, and thus began a strange conversation that I did not really have the spoons for (if you don't know this phrase, see this explanation) but I got through anyway.

It was about my conduct towards this lady, namely not noticing her, such as not responding to her 'Good morning' to the group when she entered, and other times that she listed off when she had seen me at college or in town and I 'had ignored' her. Now, I had met her only once before as far as I could remember, so I tried to point this out - is it not a reasonable thing that I did not notice her when my brain doesn't know her face well enough to recognise it in contexts where it is unexpected? That didn't wash though.

She then tied it to ministry, checking if I was an ordinand at all. At this, I got super nervous. She was tapping into one of my self-doubts that I've have since I decided to become a stage manager, let alone a priest - I have always struggled with a) recognising people and b) being observant, which leads to situations like this where people think I'm 'an arrogant snob' ignoring them, or that I don't care to remember them. Particularly, people expect a priest to be the exact opposite, and this lady expressed real concern that I wasn't the type of person who should be becoming a priest at all.

I defended myself to a certain extent, reassured her that I would never have snubbed her on purpose and it had never been personal (I genuinely don't remember ever seeing her outside the cathedral! Make of that what you will), and thanked her for her feedback which I made sure she knew I appreciated. But I was mortified that I had upset her with my behaviour, intentional or not.

Reeling, I lined up with my candle in formation and by the time we sat down for the reading, I had a nasty headache. I tried to concentrate in the service but I was shaken, seriously disturbed, with all sorts of thoughts swirling like sand stirred on a river bed in my mind. But by communion, I was distracted from my crisis of vocation by increased pain - after the distribution I was almost panting and I realised this was the onset of a migraine, which I have experienced only 3 or 4 times previously.

We got up at the final blessing and I could not stop tears leaking as I gritted my teeth to finish the service. I made it up the aisle, and out into the vestry, and after some curt goodbyes, stumbled home, took some codeine and buried myself in bed, relived from the intolerable pain and falling heavily asleep. I woke hours later, and had a peaceful afternoon and evening.

But as I returned to bed at a more traditional time last night, I was beset with the doubts of the morning. I had resolved in my woozy state in the service that I surely needed to turn my life to be less self-centred and more focussed on others, but how can one become more observant, and better at recognising people? Is that something I have control over, something it is even possible for me to improve?

Being recommended for training gave me a boost of self-confidence, but really, being an ordinand hasn't allayed any of my doubts about my suitability. And I think this encounter shows the high level of expectation laity put on clergy (I actually wrote mine here) and the personal investment even a fleeting relationship leads to. Even of an ordinand, who from my perspective is still laity and a work-in-progress, the capacity to live to this higher standard is expected.

I don't dispute this, I suppose I just had not truly absorbed it, that I am basically already an echelon of clergy. That's weird to digest when I'm not getting ordained until 2020. How much do I give myself some slack and how much do I hold myself to account here?

This is part of a greater discussion about feedback and by whose authority, whose standard should I be held up against, and it's complicated. It's hard to find the balance of judgement of what to take onboard and what to hear with a pinch of salt. Where do I go from here? Do I reassure myself that I am doing the best I can or knuckle down to try and change my behaviour to fit in with this lady's expectations of clergy? How do I reconcile the knowledge that I am called as I am with the gifts that I have to offer, with the understanding that discernment and training is a process of learning/gaining knowledge and skills, both of my innate gifts, and of others that aren't as natural that I need as a priest?

How much of priesthood is shared, and how much is unique I suppose is my question. Who gets to tell me 'a priest should be like this' when I am discerning what kind of priest I will be, and if I am not meeting people's expectations as an ordinand, how much of a warning bell is that for my focus in improving myself for future ministry?

I am grateful for this feedback, for another perspective of my behaviour, and for a glimpse at one of the pressures clergy are under. But it has set me spinning. So all I can say at the moment is - God help me.

First term as an ordinand

My goodness look, she’s put up a text post, huzzah! I know, I know, I’ve been a bit lazy and just put up videos for a while.

But in the wake of my first term as an ordinand, I don’t think I can reflect coherently on how I am and how things are in a video. It’s been a packed 11 weeks, busier than I anticipated. I’ve needed to be easy on myself, and not get guilty about the things that I’ve felt I haven’t done well.

I didn’t know what to expect going in. I didn’t know how to organise myself with an academic degree – ‘doing some reading’, lecture notes, the library, ‘pre-reading’. Foreign territory, all of it. And since my last post about the retreat, we’ve had several deadlines for essays, which has been the real meat of the term, academically speaking. I was totally unprepared for that, and I’ve learnt a lot of lessons which will hopefully mean next term will be better.

Amongst that I’ve been struggling the sustain myself spiritually and socially, plus not been able to do exercise, and I even had to give up cooking in the last few weeks, and only eat in the dining hall. I ended up in a bit of a heap by the end. But I feel overall positive about the whole thing, which seems odd, but like I said, I’m being easy on myself. My first term of nine may not have been smooth but there were no disasters, nothing actually ‘went wrong’, and I’m still happy to be where I am.

I’m making friends, getting good marks back from the essays, getting on with my housemates, connecting with various clergy in the area. I’ve been on placement with a great chaplain and I’ve even given a sermon! I had visitors from the south a couple of weekends, there was a fantastic Christmas party to finish term and say goodbye to the deputy warden – trying to summarise the whole term is pretty tricky, but there are tons of positives.

But life has been very full. I have felt a little dragged along with it, getting on with things when I didn’t understand them 100%, didn’t have time to get to grips with them as fully as I would have liked, which for me is a stressful place to be in. I’ve not really acknowledged my underlying stress, and I should. I’m not ‘stressed out’ but I just have not felt grounded.

My tutor pointed out that one factor is not really having a lot of contact with my home ground kind of church – I’m spending most of my time at either much lower, at college, or higher, at my placement chapel; and I think she’s right that it’s had an impact. I was at St James’ on Sunday for the morning service and Nine Lessons and Carols, and there was a relief to be with people ‘like me’. Now I realise that this is partly an evolutionary hang up that we really must get over, but that doesn’t stop me feeling that way.

At least I have actually enjoyed building relationships with evangelicals and conservatives at college, even if it’s been an effort. And it’s not been as bad as it could have been, because said evangelicals have been very open; the way I put it is they may think I’m going to hell, but if they do they don’t seem to hold it against me.

Like I said, hopefully I’ll have more of a handle on my academic work next term, which means I can schedule in down time, exercise, socialising, and other stress release things. Plus some of this term’s stress sources should be a lot less stressful because I’m now more familiar with everything new, and I'll start seeing a spiritual director.

So, first term as an ordinand. Overall positive, lessons learned, hopeful in moving forward. God is with me.

PS How AWESOME that the new Bishop of London, my sponsoring bishop, is a woman!!

PPS watch out for my next adventure - I'm flying to Switzerland next week!

Video: Being an ordinand - settling in

Video: I am an ordinand...WHAT?!

I would have uploaded this ASAP but our college house has not had working Wifi so I write to you now from a week into being here at Cranmer Hall, Durham.

As you can probably tell from the title of this post, I'm not really very relaxed about being an ordinand. It's still weird, and scary, and unbelievable, after such a long time getting here, actually being here doesn't feel like it should be happening. Surely there's another hoop to go through? Surely I'm not truly ready to claim the title 'ordinand'.

The implications of coming to train are vast and varied, and the thought that I am actually going to be a priest is only one. New city, new house, reduced money situation, being away from my friends, taking all the opportunities available to me, being a student again, living with other people again - it's been exhausting dealing with it all at once. I'm lucky that I've moved a lot over the last few years, so the move is less dramatic, but there's still an emotional wrench of moving from the south east to the north east, with a different rhythm to the city, learning to find my way around, not living on my own any more, not using public transport every day...oh, and the temperature. I am a delicate English rose, and working out how much clothing I need every day, investing in thermal underwear, and finding out where nearby sells electric blankets, all makes for a tad more stress.

I've already fallen down in my self-care. I failed to remember how I know I operate, that I need intimacy with God, with close friends, and with myself, to balance my mental health into a good state. Plus this week has involved a lot of meeting people, forgetting their names, and working out which ones will be more work to get on with than others, which is a drain even on an outgoing extrovert like yours truly. So I had a slightly emotional night last night, which I am in the process of remedying, so no harm done. But lesson learned, the hard way.

We've had introductory talks, a prayer day in the cathedral, a day of lectures from a world expert on Thomas Cranmer, a college freshers' fair (I signed onto the mailing lists of LGBT+ Soc, FemSoc, and the theatre society), many cups of tea in the common room, and matriculation when I was thrilled to have my first outing in a cassock and used my cloak to boot.

A lot of the induction this week has been like any other university - like the police officer telling us not to take drugs, and the fireman telling us not the cover our smoke alarms with clingfilm - just with more Christianity, and advice/info being spoken into our proto-clergy situation, like the dual nature of our focus, that our academia is merely half of our time here, and our spiritual lives take as much precedence. This of course echoes ministry, giving us good practice.

I will be honest, the academic side terrifies me. I was pretty good at school work, though not essays, and this is my first degree to do 'proper' essays, as opposed to the self-reflective ones from my previous degree. Doing reading, spending time in the library, it's all alien and I'm not confident in my own ability to do very well.

At least I'm on the way to making friends here. The house is finally settled, with only an ice cube tray to source  (for the gin and tonics you understand). I like the fact that I have an uphill 15 minute walk to college everyday, and morning prayer to do, evening worship to join as well. I've managed to arrange a space in my room for my prayer stool, so I can kneel in front of my small standing cross. I'm being good with my diet, taking heed of the warnings against 'the Cranmer stone'. I'm also damn pleased to have my comfy armchair in the living room!

Blimey. I am an ordinand. We'll see how this goes.

Video: Fourth chat with the curate, plus being like the Trinity

In the video, I said the curate asked me to write about the nature of God being the Trinity being mirrored in the human experience of relationship. Below is my attempt to expand this.

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So in a nutshell, I said that I find it reassuring that the Trinity resolves the tension of unity and individuality in God's very being; that what seems like a paradox of relationship vs self is actually a fundamental part of God and therefore a fundamental part of us as made in God's image - it's not something for us to overcome but to embrace about ourselves and our lives. God is the epitome of cohesive relationship without the loss of separate distinctions, and therefore God is the example we can follow to try to resolve the tension in our lives.

I am reassured that I follow a God whose being is one of simultaneous one-ness and three-ness, because however hard it looks when I'm struggling to find compatibility between being myself - having a unique combination of characteristics, temperament, needs, and desires - and being part of so many relationships - and groups, and the responsibilities towards convergence and consensus that those entail - it is possible find harmony in being both simultaneously.

See if you recognise these scenarios from your own life:

Sometimes I feel totally isolated; I prioritise only my own needs, and do things on only my terms. And that leads to problems. Friends and groups in my life feel abandoned or ignored; I as an extrovert get grumpy, and sometimes a bit melancholic. Days start to feel monotonous, and as if I've unplugged from life, and I wonder where my life is going. I feel like I've forgotten something but all my obvious needs are seen to, and doing anything beyond basic requirements seems like a chore.

Sometimes I lose all sense of self; I priotise only the needs of others, and make decisions without factoring in the consequences of my actions on myself. And that leads to problems. I over-extend myself, running out of mental, physical, and emotional resources. I become exhausted but have promised to do something else so keep going, sometimes feeling like crying just because I feel so terrible. I want to resent people and situations draining my resources, and find it difficult to enjoy all the activities I'm doing because they have now become chores.

These are extremes, but I know I've been in both scenarios multiple times, and I think it comes down to this difficult balancing act. My identity as an individual can sometimes feel at odds with my identity as part of relationships. My sense of difference and distance from 'others' doesn't gel with my sense of belonging and being part of 'us'.

This comes up in the context of talking with the curate because I am foreseeing the tension in my future. I look ahead, look at the impending discernment process, and I get double vision, because there are two paths going at the same time (which I've said before) - one journey with God, and one journey with the Church. Now the former feels more 'real', it's the personal journey where I know I can be entirely genuine and trust completely in it. And that clashes with the latter, which I'm scared will feel contrived, because it involves other fallible people and I don't trust myself or them enough to feel confident we'll get it right.

Desmond Tutu quotes the concept of ubuntu, which officially means "the belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity" and Tutu explains as: "My humanity is caught up, inextricably bound up, in yours. We belong in a bundle of life. We say a person is a person through other persons." which is a bit like what the curate got out of my analogy with the Trinity. I was looking at that the discernment process has this fundamental dual nature of 'ultimately' being an attempt at following God's calling, but also 'ultimately' being a series of relationships with a very human element. He went further and looked at it as an opportunity for us to experience, see and recognise our faith and ourselves through others.

I think that's what he was saying. We were a tad at cross purposes I fear. But it is true that we aren't often naturally inclined to approach faith through others. It always feels like 'faith' is this internal thing totally separate from outside, just between you and God. And yeah, there is a personal connection, but just like the Trinity, there is a communal connection at the same time as the separate one and they intertwine and inform each other! So my discernment journey with God is simultaneously distinct and intimately connected with my discernment journey with the Church, a constant dance of unity and separation, just like the Trinity. We are both connected in unity and also defined as individuals by our humanity. My relationships with the people on the discernment process will inform my relationship with God as well as vice versa. And its helps to know that God is also in a similar dance of relationship as well, so I have a chance of striking a balance. Just as God could not be God without being Trinity, I cannot live my personal truth in the light of God without the feedback loop of faith and identity from relationships with others.

Or something like that.