I am in the belly of the beast at the moment, just over midway through my 8 weeks at Sandhurst, and I have ended up with a bit of free time. Sadly, on the second exercise in the field, I sprained my ankle, so I have not been able to complete the third exercise, which all my fellow cadets are currently on. It's not a weekend off, but it is a weekend without structure on what to do, so I have made a list of things that will be productive. I was struck this morning that a bit of in-the-moment reflection on my calling and discernment would be incredibly useful. I'm sitting waiting for the Sunday service at my old church to start streaming, so let's get a bit godly in advance.
This frustrating time is an incredible challenge to my sense of being where I am supposed to be. These last five weeks have been very hard, but it has all felt purposeful, even when feeling sleep deprived, worried about getting hypothermic while lying on the wet ground on patrol at 6am, coming last in the navigation exercise, and being at the back of every run. And I have not struggled as much as I could have done. Those experiences are places where I have done my best to do what my people do and understand the community I have joined to serve. But now I do not feel that I am where my people are - I'm getting uninterrupted sleep in a bed, three hot meals served every day, and even time to watch TV for pity's sake; I'm not miserable, running into a section attack, or getting up in the night to go on sentry, or eating cold rations in a hurry.
What does it mean that I am still called to be here? I could hold onto this time at Sandhurst being some benighted agony of necessary evil that the padres are being forced through before we start the 'real job'. I don't buy that, but then that means I have to make sense of my current experience are already doing the job.
What I am holding onto are the stats of Incarnation. How Jesus spent his Incarnate time was [very roughly]:
- 0.01% passion/crucifixion/resurrection,
- 9.09% rabbi,
- and then 90.9% being one of us.
Thirty years as a baby, boy, student, man, eldest son, awkward brother, apprentice then master craftsman, head of the household, synagogue member, helping in the community, drinking and feasting and fasting, hanging out with his friends, settling arguments, discussing problems, going through struggles and difficulties, being with those struggling alongside him - first century Palestine bog standard bloke life. What I have been learning, and that this injury has very much hit home, is that this job is 90.9% being, being myself, who and how I am, with these people in this place. Being one of them most of the time, living the 2023 Surrey bog standard cadet life.
I wonder how much Jesus thought about all that he was missing and all that he felt he 'should' be doing during those thirty years. I wonder if he struggled with his dual identity, and what it meant to keep all that he was beyond his humanity still in sight when it was mostly put off.
Holding onto the fact that I am so much more than a cadet is a deeply challenging struggle. Now, there have been many moments that I have done some 9.09% stuff - I have had one-on-ones with other cadets, I have had fellowship with the padres and we've done prayers with anyone who came along, I have organised an All Souls event, and challenged the staff very directly. I have also been a person, going to see the people I love, reading my books and writing my journal, browsing a catalogue, planning a holiday, ie living my life beyond my role, and rooting myself in who I have become that feeds my role.
All of this is doing the job already, and next module I will do some 0.01% stuff (either a field service or a company prayer service). So it's not benighted agony of necessary evil - it's time to figure this stuff out. These 12 weeks total training are as much for me as for the army to instruct me in what they think I need to know. This is exactly the same as at drama school and at theological college: it is easy to not see the time as the gift that it is and get frustrated that we aren't 'doing' the thing we signed up to do, rather than exploiting the opportunity to reflect and grow as a person, which is filling the jar that pours into the role.
I am not waiting to get to my unit so I can 'finally' take up my calling. I am called to be struggling through officer's training, I am called to heed to medical centre's instructions, I am called to try my best at things I know I am not good at. I am called to be mostly a cadet, and I'm sure at my unit, I will be called to be mostly 'present', forging relationships over the daily minutiae of life, listening to complaints about the army and negotiating when to explore that further and when to leave it as a necessary expression without follow up. I'm sure parish priests can relate - as much as there are services to take, pastoral care to do, and teaching to be done, so much of what a priest is called to do includes admin, buildings, arguments, meetings, and paperwork. The system isn't perfect and it is a huge blessing that in the army I have clerks that do some of that, but my point still stands.
The Incarnation teaches me a holistic view of calling. I am called as a whole person; I do not hang up my calling like a hat when I get in and spend time away from the role, nor am I attending to my calling any less when I feel very un-priestly crawling in a very undignified manner through dewy ferns behind someone with a rifle, or going to bed at a reasonable hour of my own choosing to rest my injured body. That is what a priest called at this time to be a padre looks like. This, me, I am what a priest called at this time to be a padre looks like.
I am into my third year of curacy, and my second of priesthood. (If you want to see a little of what I've been up to, I have updated my Steps page with some highlights). As I have said throughout this blog, discernment of vocation is a rolling task, and my journey to ordained priest was just one chapter. Okay, may be more like a volume, but one of many in the series of my life. Our calling as Christians is never just one thing, to be figured out, then just keep doing it until you die. Even for clergy, whose calling has this headline to it, the context in which we are a priest changes; either called to the same place and/or people which will inevitably change simply with time, or called to different places and different people at different times.
Third year of curacy takes a turn towards 'the next step', looking ahead and starting to think about 'what's next', because just like the official discernment process looks to BAP, the BAP looks to college, and college looks to curacy, curacy looks to (usually) First Incumbency. This is often framed as the You've Made It ⭐️ stage: discernment and formation is done, the ordinand caterpillar has gone through the goo of the curacy chrysalis and emerged a slightly wet vicar butterfly. The diocese will help you with things like training, supervision, and mentoring (I believe), and eventually you'll be on the hamster wheel of MDRs (Ministerial Development Reviews).
From what I can tell, the latter can be used brilliantly as a tool for clergy to continue in discernment and formation, but depends entirely on the drive of the individual, so some use it as a tickbox exercise because they are all-consumed by their parish. Any thought of personal development is dismissed or repressed because it is not priority enough to warrant carving time for amongst the day-to-day demands of their current role. Because it is 'personal', it is hard for clergy to see the wood for the trees - their 'ministry' only counts if it is parish-related.
I don't blame clergy who end up in this position one jot, and I will inevitably find myself in that groove at some point. I can only hope that I will manage to climb back out of it before I am irredeemably entrenched.
Theologian Frederick Buechner defines vocation as the place where “your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.” (See more here.) It is easy to slide from one extreme to the other on that scale, either doing something joyful and purposeless or something worthwhile and soul-sucking. The CofE is built on the parish system; it's the beating heart of this member of the body of Christ on and of this land, and I don't think it is possible to understand oneself to be part of the CofE without some tether into that system. So the majority of the clergy that are ordained into it are rightly called to be parish priests of some variety. I may at some point in the future discern that my calling will take me there, but at the moment, I feel called somewhere else. That is not currently where my deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.
The seed of a calling to chaplaincy was planted in 2014 (God bless the Church Times book tent at Greenbelt!) you can see my post about it in 2015 here, and it has snowballed. From another post, a summary of my calling can be:
"The main thing the [military] personnel reflected was that the Padre must care;
and I thought "I can do that".
I started reading about military chaplaincy. I talked to my first military chaplain in March 2016, see here. I started to grasp that military chaplaincy is a 'niche' calling, and discerning it was going to have to self-directed. At events, I chose to attend anything that discussed chaplaincy (where I got nuggets like thinking of it as a bit like being a friar in a community). Once I got to theological college, I did a placement with a school chaplain, but got excited when an RAF chaplain visited, so signed up to their recruitment stuff and did a visit in the summer of 2019.
That May, I had talked to an incredible woman. [I love this story so I'll put it in full. A friend of mine from sixth form ended up in Newcastle, so we hung out while I was up in Durham. He invited me to a trip with his uni alpine society that includes alumni, and so we drove down to Cheddar Gorge. Over that weekend, I spoke to another alumni, and the clergy thing came up, and then so did the interest in the army. He said he was a reserves medic and loved their padre, and put me in touch with her.] That conversation not only got me so excited ("Sign me up, I want to do that!") but she put me in touch with the priest running the pilot Chaplain Cadet scheme. So I ended up spending Sep 2019-June 2020 at the NUOTC on placement.
My point is, this idea that I want to sign up as an army chaplain after curacy, rather than be an incumbent, has not come out of the blue, and it's not about running away from something (parish) but towards something (padre). It has been 8 years of discernment as a thread in my wider discernment. I'm looking at my 'next step' fairly early; one usually doesn't look until Christmas in year 3. But the application process means coordinating the behemoth institutions of the Army, the CofE, and the NHS, so I was advised that cracking on in January 2022 meant I would be sorted well in advance of the entry point Sep 2023.
I want to end my curacy with both feet still in the door. It might seem like getting things sorted early is the opposite of that, but doing all the application forms and visits and fitness training (I've joined a gym! WTF?! Follow me on Twitter to keep up with that drama) well in advance means that I won't be doing it in the last six months of being here, so I can really be here up until the last.
Like I said, I am a CofE priest, and that means I be definition can't leave the parish system as such. I am still operating under a bishop's licence as a chaplain, and I might up end up transitioning to be a reservist, where you are much more anchored in a diocese. I don't want to be a chaplain who disconnects, holes up in their institution, and imagines their ordained status as 'absolute' ie unrelated to any place (in the CofE, one cannot be ordained without being ordained into a role), as if their ministry is floating in a bubble.
Some people suggest chaplaincy as a place for curacy and that is a rather stupid idea in my opinion. Curacy is, as Lucy always says, where you learn your muscle memory as a priest, and a priest in the Church of England is a priest of this Church and of this place, England. The ministry of this member of the body of Christ is defined as on and of this land, most definitively exercised in the parish system. Cof E Chaplains have anything to offer the places they serve because they are rooted in that system, and technically so are all the people they serve. If you are in or of an English diocese, you are under the cure of a bishop, shared to a specific priest in each place. I never want to forget that, and so regardless of my growing call to chaplaincy, this curacy has been my focus for its parochical nature. I am a CofE priest, I cannot pick and choose parts I like and think are 'relevant' to some future role I may have.
I get that I am sounding a little defensive. I have picked up some very unjust opinions of chaplains from within the parish system, and so it is important to me in my reflections that I do not see them as different and certainly not opposed. Chaplaincy is more important now as less people go to church because it means the church going to where the people are. I see it as a very twenty-first century ministry in that regard, in a similar way to the church waking up to the importance of cathedrals.
So at the moment, the next chapter looks set to be army chaplaincy. I say looks to be because firm plans are rarely a good idea in discernment; I try to keep to dreams and ideas most of the time, until decisions are needed, and they are not needed yet. The application process is rolling on, but I benefit from the policy that if I am offered a commission, I have five years to take it up. There's a lot of other factors in life to consider in the decisions to be made, and I'm trying not to rush, whilst at the same time sensibly getting on top of things that take time.
My questions are still the same as ever - where am I called to, what am I called to, who am I called to? My prayer always comes back to the verse quoted in this blog's title: "Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning, for in you I put my trust. Teach me the way I should walk in, for to you I lift up my soul." (Psalm 143). Discernment continues to be hard, which is not what I thought would happen. I thought I would make it through to being a fully qualified priest at the end of curacy and it would let up slightly, that I would have established my sense of purpose so following a path would be easier.
But it is a rolling task, as I said. I feel lucky that I have been gifted the years of groundwork that mean I do not see end of the curacy as a big, scary void that I have to fill with some job somewhere that I'm only starting to think about now. My next step is not decided, but it is slowly being sketched out, a dream of a butterfly with camo wings. I think it will be both worthwhile for the world and joyful for me; I can imagine that I will work to feed a part of the world's deep hunger, and get my own deep gladness. That's what it feels like when I contemplate being a padre. I can do that.
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?
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!
My lay licensed worker team photo, taken outside my curacy church building
When I was told that my ordination was going to be postponed until at least Michaelmas because of Covid-19, I was hit with shock, like a gut punch. But I was lucky, because I was told in March, and as I was due to be ordained in July, I had time to rearrange my concept of my future. Some of my contemporaries were not so lucky, getting radio silence from their dioceses until the last minute, or pin-balling throughout March-June between umpteen different scenarios in regular updates on what to expect. Also, I had enough to think about as I finished my dissertation, got through the last of my teaching (online), planned my house move, and dealt with the emotional fallout of lockdown in a global pandemic.
I moved on the same day I had planned, started working on the same day as had been agreed, and I have been doing the work of a new curate (in a pandemic) with only one difference based on my lay status. That one difference is that I sit in the congregation at services, in my smart work clothes, rather than in the sanctuary in robes.
Laid out like this, it all seems like I should be happily bobbing along, content with my situation and basically unhindered by my lack of ordination.
However, I feel a little bit like I'm going mad. That sounds dramatic. What I mean is I have a slight, underlying feeling of being somehow fractured, unsettled, like some of my feathers are sticking up the wrong way just behind my periphery. This is not how things are supposed to be. I don't quite fit this state.
Now I know that in some dioceses this is actually a normal scenario, a new curate being ordained at Michaelmas, so I don't want to imply anything about that situation. All I can do is express my own experience, and it is one of a very disconcerting sense of an indeterminate and uncertain identity. I am one of the clergy and not ordained - this is not something for which my blueprint of the world has a reference point.
One of the most tangible symbols of this is my clothes. "Well now", you might say, "what have clothes to do with being a minister? You're still ministering, right? Getting to know the parishioners, settling into the team dynamic, continued study, helping plan services, pastoral care, working on a theology project, updating the church website, leading the offices - how are any of the things you are actually doing with your time affected by your clothes?"
None. I will grant you, none of these things are being done differently because I am not in a clerical collar. But we are not simply the sum of our actions, and it is my sense of self within these tasks that is off-kilter, plus my theology of priesthood is ontological, not functional*. The collar is an outward sign of something of the self, and its absence - in a context in which it is expected - makes me aware of my lack. And it doesn't help that, whilst I spent three months knowing and preparing to be a lay curate, I previously spent years preparing to be an ordained curate. I can't throw off such long-held expectation so easily.
I walk the streets of this parish and pray, and I get what I can only describe as cognitive dissonance, and I feel guilty. I know it's irrational, but that's how my heart twangs. Cognitive dissonance occurs when a person holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values; or participates in an action that goes against one of these three, and experiences psychological stress because of that.
The action of praying for the parish connects with my understanding of a clergyperson's duties - a deacon or a priest prays for their people and their place. But I ain't no deacon, and so my mind immediately connects with my lay status and boom, internal turmoil. And I feel guilty because part of me is disgusted that I would pretend to be ordained. And then I get annoyed at myself - obviously a lay person can pray for whoever they blooming like, what theology am I touting here?! I'll reach up and gently touch my exposed throat, and grief will rise up in my belly.
I'll remind myself that I only have to wait just a little bit longer, but the time is not exactly flying by. I'm having a wonderful time, I have no complaints, but it's like going down a slide sideways. Not quite aligned to fit the groove and motion of travel.
I don't mean to complain. These are not problems of huge suffering, and I acknowledge that. Plus I am guaranteed an end, it is acute not chronic, and these three months will dwindle to insignificance as the years of ordained ministry pile up. But this is my reality right now, a lay curate who can't figure out what that means to me. It challenges my ecclesiology, and makes me question what the difference between 'ordained' and 'not' means.
An ordained person is still a member of the laos, the people, for all in the laos have a calling to something, the baptismal priesthood of all believers, and there just happens to be a minority for whom that is vocational priesthood. They are 'set aside' somewhat, but not separate, not vaunted or raised up. In my opinion, it's ontologically a sideways move to a distinct place in the Church. So ordination is not some huge elevation, but it is important, and integral to how the body of Christ is on earth.
I am functioning as a curate, that's my role, but I'm not in my place in the Church yet. My very nature is held back from slotting into place. I must admit my role is also a little held back, besides not robing - the collar will add to people's perception of me, so I have not done the exploration of the parish that I would have already started if I were already ordained. I want to go into the businesses of the parish and say hello, but I know that's going to be less awkward with the collar, so I'm delaying it until after I am ordained.
This is true even if you don't have an ontological view of priesthood - wearing a collar means something, it is affective.
I am the curate, but I am only half way to what that means to me. It will be such a relief when it happens, even though my role here in the parish will not change from one side of the weekend to the other. I will be a member of the people of God's Church, and on top of that something of my being, my mind, body and soul, will be dedicated and empowered in a new way. Until then, I'm going to feel (irrationally) like a fraud, functioning in an ecclesial identity I don't actually have. Yet.
*there's an interesting pair of blogposts about this argument within Anglicanism from both sides, here and here.
Now obviously the date this post is published is not that of the title, but the idea of the post is to mark the date in the title, so I've kept it for the look of the thing!
I've been looking over the past anniversary posts, and whilst I did one after one year and one after two years, I am shocked that I didn't do one last year, and I can only apologise. 2018 and 19 have been sparse for content here, but that doesn't mean I've not been doing anything - it's just that I've been getting on with college, concentrating on the detail of my vocation rather than contemplating the big picture. Why would I? Once I arrived here, I had three years set out in front of me, a red carpet that I only had to follow.
But the end of the carpet is in sight and suddenly the prospect of stepping off it needs addressing. To be honest, my post a few months ago did a good job of summing up the feeling of second year. Since then, I have spend two weeks in Belgium, and done 4 weeks parish placement, which was lovely - great people, and a fabulous vicar, with loads of experiences and stuff; I was very pleased to reflect that I felt very comfortable being the ordinand, the one alongside the vicar ie. I felt competent.
I have also spent 4 days with RAF chaplains, who were so hospitable and generous; I had a proper holiday which did me a lot of good, as well as a holiday visiting friends who are simply mad and joyful; I had a week's retreat at Pluscarden Abbey, which was okay, though I should have gone to an Anglican one really; I took my motorcycle to Scotland so I've had a lot of experience to make me a better rider; and I have just got back from a two week placement with the army chaplains, which was amazing.
That's a lot to go through in 14 weeks. I'm so glad I have a little bit of time before term starts to reorientate and sort out my life a bit. But also, since then the wheel has been turning on conversations around curacy - in case you don't know, I can't tell anyone anything until a curacy is absolutely confirmed, but I can say I am looking at somewhere. Plus I really need to get cracking on my dissertation. The end of this chapter is nigh and the planning for the next already in motion.
In amongst it all, feeling like one is on a conveyor belt, contemplation of vocation is hard to fit in, though I will say I am very interested in army chaplaincy, and I am very pleased that I will be doing my term time placement with a university officers training corps. I haven't had any doubts that I am supposed to be here and I am called to be an ordained priest in the Church of England, and I've been doing overall pretty well. I'm so happy to have the motorcycle, and I think that will have a significant effect in my third year.
It's still weird to think that this time next year I'll be ordained a deacon. Wearing a collar, ministering in a parish, oh, and have money coming in again! A very different life to the last two years, and a new sense of being - to be ordained itself still seems distant and unimaginable.
Four years later, life has changed completely, several times, and will change completely again. God remains consistent and steadfast, but I am changed, almost completely as well. Some of that is growing up, and some is shifting priorities and wider understandings.
I'm starting to waffle, I'm sorry. Life is pretty full and whilst I am glad about that, I can sometimes lose sight of 'me' in 'my life', so reflecting on the last year is a little hazy. Hopefully it'll get processed in the depths of memory and I'll have figured it out once I look back on it in the future. I think that's a common experience of full time college, even without the priestly formation stuff.
Who knows what third year will bring? I cannot guess, but I'll let you know.
This post details my experience of Session Four of the Towards Ordained Ministry course. See myprevious postsabout session one and two to find out what the TOM course is.
--
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? This was a slightly odd session for me because it was taken by Revd. Lucy Winkett, who is my sponsoring priest. She was talking about ministry, what it is, how she goes about it, what is expected of us and what is important. I was reflecting on the bus home that it was like reading an essay breaking down a piece of music and explaining all the component parts, but I recognised it, I knew what it sounded like because I had seen it played out for years. I was also once again bowled over by my luck that I know her and have been able to learn from her, let alone work closely with her on my discernment journey. People were queuing up to talk to her at the end and I was completely unsurprised. She introduced herself and explained that she would "do theology the way I know how to do theology" which is in a relational way, so she had stories and props. a bit about herself include the struggle of training for ministry at a time when women couldn't be priests, making the point that even if things look impossible, "you just have to start". "Discerning my vocation has never stopped" as it's a life long task and we "never stop learning". The phrase "exercising" ministry was rejected. The important starting point is that our greatest calling, our deepest calling is to be a human being made in the image of God - "to be you as God made you" and "relate to other people as Jesus did". The Holy Spirit "is a dynamic and live Spirit" which sometimes the institution can confine; the balance needs to be struck between necessary competency and freedom of that fundamental calling.
Lucy's didn't quite look like this
but you get the idea
Her first prop made me smile when she took it out of the bag. It was a scallop shell; specifically The scallop shell on a string that she wore during her cycled pilgrimage down the Camino de Santiago, which is the Way of St James, and a symbol of that saint, so very much an image within the life of St James' Piccadilly, my and Lucy's church. She gave this backstory and made the connection that pilgrimage is to "make a faithful journey with a purpose" is also a description of life. The shell reminded her that she doesn't know what is going to happen tomorrow, so she can't lose her sense of adventure. There's a danger that it can lost in the church's repetition, which leads to the disillusion quest for control.
Second out of the bag came a stole, a red one she was given in Jerusalem. She covered its practical symbolism, that of the towel Jesus wrapped around himself to wash the disciples feet, putting it on in the fashion of a deacon - "look a bit like Miss World" - and then as the 'yoke' of a priest, 'my yoke is easy, and my burden is light' - of the life of a priest, "deep, deep down it's a life you're asked to love". Following your calling can be hard but God works like satnav, so even you divert off-course, the path is just recalculated so you still end up where God wants you to be. Lucy reassured of this gentle "movement of the Spirit."
The third prop was a Bible. This must infuse our lives, but it gets"tribalised" and that must be resisted. Ministers must know, read, love, and be instructed by scripture. "Encounter it every day" and it will make you counter-cultural, making sure the encounter is a conversation, even if it's an interrogation, where you wrestle with it like Jacob and the angel [at this point she grabbed hold of the pages in demonstration, gripping them in her fists, which was quite effective for being so startling]. And the encounter should be with your head, your heart, and your feet, getting out and being with people to meet Jesus.
Next was the topic of Holy Communion, combining the Bible and the stole in the importance of being rooted and grounded in Word and Sacrament; that's what it means to be a priest in the CofE. It's the one true thing that defines and separates a priest, being the only one who presides at the Eucharist. Being called to be a priest is to be called to stand at a crossroads, at the boundary "between time and eternity" as well as going to the edge, to the margins.
Mary Poppins-like, the props bag produced another item, this time a tennis ball, which Lucy proceeded to chuck back and forth amongst the bemused candidates. Don't forget to play was her point. "I realised that 'church fun' isn't actual fun" was met with much hilarity. Do things that you enjoy, and when you're in a position of leadership, bring those ideas to planning church events, get 'actual fun' into church life. One of Lucy's common sayings is "warm white wine and Twiglet just don't do it for me".
In a more serious vein, we are called to emulate what Paul calls kinosis, the emptying of God. But if we are to give ourselves away, play "insures there is a self to empty". Jesus was emptied on the cross but was also resurrected, so we're not called to be completely laid waste. And your misery as a minister could cause havoc. "As a basic, you do have to like people," she said, which means you need to know yourself and how you connect best and find that balance. Extroverts [like me] need to learn to not always be with people all the time. It's not necessarily a goal of 'emotional harmony' in a community; to build an apostolic church is to have a outward-looking community of combined celebration and forgiveness.
Our last prop was an air raid helmet. The obvious is true, that priests need a bit of a thick skin, but beyond that "I think priests should get into trouble...good trouble." Conflict isn't inherently bad; the creative possibility it creates should be moved towards rather than avoided. There's a strand of ministry to be prophetic ie see what others overlook, and developing a "theology of your own mistakes" can help build that creative environment where all "feel equal enough to disagree".
Moving away from the visuals, Lucy reclaimed a maligned Biblical character as a model for priesthood - Martha. She's known for being practical, and being a priest is a practical job - you've got to roll your sleeves up sometimes. And after Lazarus died, she was proactive, confronting Jesus and showing an example we should follow in prayer, in being honest when speaking to God. That speaking up, that "naming what is stinking", that harks back to the prophetic, passion for justice, and getting into trouble for it. And she also "names the truth", contemplative in a way Peter isn't (Peter ends up having a row with Jesus).
--
So cleverly, I have made notes from the Q&A but did not write down the questions, some of which I cannot remember. For the first question I wrote down "miraculous God - the reality is so far away, obviously fear but need to trust, then can accept that."
Next I wrote the Yiddish saying "Man plans. God laughs" which I rather like and resonates with my own story.
I do remember that the next question was something like 'which is more important, Scripture or Sacrament?' and I wrote "in the end, scripture and eucharist are inseparable - cannot dispense with either - confidence vs rigidity" that last bit referring to the argument in the church over the relative importances, and you should have confidence in your own spirituality and tradition without being rigid about it."priests - narrators, "keep saying what you believe and try and live it."
Then came a question about boundaries. Priests should be "seen to be open and fair" - boundaries are important but difficult. There is a restlessnesss in relationships with congregation members that you don't have with friends, and that comes from your responsibility as a leader/
Sidenote about friends from before your ordination - keep hold of them! You will end up reworking them but you need them, even if they say things like "don't you put your vicar face on!"
This segued into a conversation about being visibly a priest in public, such as "people love watching what vicars buy" and her anecdote about being mistaken for a strippergram. She brought it round to the serious point that you don't actually have to be this glorified and unrealistic ideal people expect of you being 'holy'. Jesus is a visceral example of not being 'holy' in the expected way. Don't worry about what people think.
The last question was a candidates fear about his lack of musical ability. Lucy connected this with the previous question, opening it up to encourage everyone to have an opportunity to not be good at something, as omnipotent priests discourage volunteers! --
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?
Future sessions will be:
- 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?
- 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?
See this post for an intro to this series. During
their meeting with enquirers, DDOs and Vocations Advisers will want to listen
carefully to the vocational stories of the enquirers and to tease out from the
enquirers their response to two key questions: ‘why are you here?’ and ‘why
now?’ Why are you here? My life has been leading towards an inexorable future, and I fully embrace it. I am meant to be a priest, and I want to be a priest. Church is where I belong, and I want to continue the tradition, and also improve it, and provide humanity with the tools for living their lives as God's children; give them liturgy, show them wisdom, encourage dialogue and thinking about divine, philosophical, and ethical matters. I'm not wired to be able to prioritise my relationship with God without having it tangibly at the centre of my life ie. as my job, and my very identity, but it has become my priority to serve God in the best way that I can do, so I must arrange my life accordingly. I feel such a desire to be a priest, but my calling is more than that. There is a resonance, a rightness to it, like my soul has finally been plugged into the universe and powered up. I think I would be good at it, with the right training, practice, and focus. I've always thought I would become a priest, and when the time came to put my feet on the path, I was overjoyed, terrified, unsure of the exact path ahead of me but sure that ordination was on it somewhere along the line. I think it would suit me, and be the best way for me live to the fullest - "The glory of God is a human being fully alive" (Iranaeus). I want to nourish people's souls, even if they don't realise it. This is my part of the Church's mission to a tangible expression of God's love to the world, and becoming a priest is the best way for me to do that - it's the only way I'll fully realise it. A constant theme in my life has been stories, and I am called to use stories, listen to stories, be in stories, tell stories, spread stories, explain stories, absorb stories, nudge stories. It is by changing the stories in and the story of the world that we end suffering and bring about the next chapter - the kingdom of God. Being a priest is the best way for me to do that in the most important context, in people's spiritual lives, their most intimate and personal relationships - with God, others, and the world. A priest has that place in people's lives. People expect you to hear their stories, you're allowed to tell stories, it's not surprising for a priest to get stuck in and change the story; your life is dedicated to the greatest story ever told, you represent that story, people look to you to get to heart of stories, and share the stories that matter. The epitome of that is reenacting the story of the Last Supper in the Eucharist, and meeting Christ at the very human setting of a shared meal. It would be amazing to have authority and duty to introduce people to Christ. It is one of my greatest joys to learn, discuss, teach, and expand my and others' horizons. It's also important to me to express my identity, and the most important part of who I am is being a disciple of Christ. We are called to evanglise, and I think I am best suited to convey that by my unapologetic identity in devotion to following Jesus. I want to communicate the mission of spreading the good news in people's lives by trusting God to work through me, and being a priest gives me the context to do that. My gift is focus, so it makes sense that my job, and beyond that, my full-time identity, is a religious context, to put my focus to God's work. I want to have the licence to be truly enthusiastic about God and Christ, to really let my geek flag fly. I love God, and if my life can be spent in God's company, doing God's work, spreading God's love, being used by God, every day all day, in my favourite place or with lots of different people, challenged, tested, and maybe in the end doing something that has meaning - that sounds like true happiness. Why now? God has always been in my life. When I was a child, it was just obvious, a definite truth I didn't think about. My parents didn't tell me God existed or didn't. But when I read my children's illustrated Bible, I loved it. When I went to a CofE primary school, I learnt the Lord's prayer, said grace, went to church for harvest and Christingles; and it was great, and I wasn't really thinking about God but the worship was positive, and I wanted to keep going to Christingles after I left that school. I realised as a teenager that I needed to start thinking about things a bit more clearly because we were studying different religions. I came to understand that I had a relationship with God through Christianity as a default setting rather than conscious belief, and that wouldn't do. At that point I actually acknowledged my faith in Christ specifically, rather than as just the version of a story of God that I went along with. I learnt about the variety of beliefs and worship styles and built a picture in my head of what sort of Christian I was, and out of the blue decided to wear a cross to publicly express that. God has been working my life in this step by step way the entire time, starting as the distant Father. When I started at SJP, I really started to get to know God in Christ, in fellowship and discipleship. Now I think I'm getting to know God the Spirit, a much longer, deeper process that is wakening my spirit within me. 2015 was a tough year in my spiritual life because I was building my stage management career and kept missing things at church, kept failing to develop a prayer life, and the worst point was not going to Holy Week, and feeling no sense of jubilation Easter morning. It was at the point at which I tried to buckle down in my SM career that the heavens moved. I was not meant to establish a secular career. One day in September, I got a spiritual kick up the backside, the doors opened, and boom, NOW IS THE TIME. I had always known this would happen. I recognised my sense of calling at 16, very clearly understanding and instantly accepting that I would end up a priest, eventually, one day. But God's schedule was not the one I had anticipated. The call, the kick, the moment that now, NOW I was to seek out my second and ultimate vocation, came much earlier than I thought. But in the grand scheme, it makes perfect sense that I drop everything and begin the next part of my journey. My spirituality is blossoming. I've gained 8 years of personal development from my first vocation as a stage manager. I've received 5 years of parish experience and religious development. Continuing in theatre would have pushed my faith to the sidelines. And now the perfect opportunity to begin in ministry itself as plopped into my lap, to be the PA at SMITF. The reason I'm here now is because God has called me now, and God has called my now because it is the right time in my life.
On Saturday 23rd April, I went to Coventry Cathedral for a young women's vocation's conference. There were 87 young women attending and about 20 ordained and lay women organisers, with a handful of husbands helping! It was the first all-women event I've been to, and I was having flashbacks to my school days at a girls school.
I videoed a quick summary of my thoughts as I waited in the train station, and below is a run down of what we did, and the notes I took during the sessions.
I had train issues but still managed to get there in time (go contingency time!) and we were welcomed before sharing in morning prayer. Celtic morning prayer, which was cool (I recently book the Celtic Daily Prayer book, which I'm looking forward to using). The first key note was Bishop Anne talking about vocation as a woman.
Notes from the welcome:
- under 40 and especially under 30 women under-represented as priests
- feeling of sisterhood! Surrounded by others, all have a story
Notes from the first key note
- God's voice is richer for being the living Word as opposed to human words
- what does God trust me with? Trust me to do?
- courage - embrace pain and joy, the risk of trusting the next step
- phrase 'anunciation moment' [useful to describe my moment in September]
- have sense of the potential of who I can be in God
- children and ministy = careful planning
- lifetime of discerning God's call that weaves in and out of the tapestry of our lives [this was an overriding theme and a really good analogy, such as only being able to see the mess at the back rather than the picture God is weaving on the front]
- women reject job descriptions if they don't think they can do 10% of it
- trust God through fear, like fear that you're on the wrong path - you can't fall beyond the reach of God's will and God's love
After a tea break, the second key note was basically a session on how to defend when someone brings up arguments against the ordination of women. I gotta be honest, I started getting uncomfortable at this stage, and realised that being at a targeted event about vocation may be great for young women who might not otherwise look at themselves as potential priests because of their gender, but I did not have that problem. It also rankled that a) I was basically being defined primarily by my gender which is an attitude I don't tolerate in my life and b) it played into the system of the gender binary, which is itself a factor in the patriarchal systems of female oppression, as well as just out of date thinking that I reject.
But speaker Lis did use the phrase 'the Gender Agenda' and sadly, people do have an agenda based on repressing the female gender. I made notes, and it was, I suppose, useful to hear positive interpretations of scripture, but I'm making the decision not to put them here, as a statement of my belief that we need to get past this position of defense; it was needed 20 years ago, but my generation is putting gender aside. It is not relevant to judging my aptitude at ministry, and as much as I love my gender and am proud to be a woman, I will not even give the space for the possibility of argument any more. It is finished.
I enjoyed talking to the young woman who I ended up sitting next to for the morning, but at lunch talked to others who migrated to the appropriate seating area designated by geography (ie south, south east etc). But sadly, because there were so many of us, and we weren't really pushed to stay in one area and talk to the same people, I spent most of the day feeling a tad isolated, and didn't bond with anyone the way I had at all the other, smaller, events I've been to.
Like in Kettering and York, we took seats at tables, and stayed there for most of the sessions, and lunch, which meant we had motivation to get to know our neighbours. Without the anchoring of a consistent place, I was really lucky to talk to anyone, and even luckier that I bumped into the woman I sat next to in the morning, at the train station, which was great.
After lunch, we split into smaller groups to attend short seminars that we had picked in advance. My first was 'Young and Ordained' and two women, a new curate, and a vicar, introduced themselves, told their stories, and asked us to talk to the person next to us about a person in the Bible that we related to.
My notes from this first half:
- hard to leave settled life - calling is not static, God 'sends'
- ordination is not peak of calling
- I related to Peter; the start and end of his calling by Jesus 'Follow me' and 'Do you love me?' - that's what Jesus is saying to me too
- but what can I, and only I, do in answer?
Then they talked about the challenges and joys of ordination.
Challenges
- 'Wisdom beyond your years' - expectation that clergy know what to say. Not necessarily 'the right quote', 'the right psalm' - no formula. God gives us words, just be yourself.
- 'Making and maintaining friendships' - friends spread out as you move around, especially young people move more. Be intentional - use holiday, make effort to go and to host. Who is important to make time to see?
- 'People taking you seriously' - not as bad as you might expect. Blagging it so people feel calm and reassured. People expect to see a representative of God. God equips.
- 'What people expect of the Vicar' - afraid to tell vicar that they [the vicar] are wrong as the priest should know. Can be asked about ethical and moral decisions.
- 'Being true to yourself' - look like self in dog collar. At first very aware of the collar. Feel judged. Alright to have friends in the parish. Rise to the challenge and adapt. Blurred lines especially for ordained with big personalities [!!] in different situations. Still forming in 20s/30s, getting to know yourself now in a public space.
Joys
- meet lots of different people
- feel right place, time and doing. Not what people expect lead to opening conversations.
Straight into the next seminar, it was really great to have sessions on other callings that parochial ministry, but uniquely in my experience led by actual practitioners of those other callings. I listened to three chaplains talk about school, prison and university chaplaincy.
Notes:
- spontaneous, holy spirit-led ministry
- broad, in every sector
- "religious/spiritual care in an organisation"
- finding God at work
- can volunteer to get experience, go through vicar or DDO
- multi-faith model, for the world
- creative, opportunities
- round peg, square hole in parochial ministry
- God also calls to stop
- drop in income doesn't matter if happy in position
- not imagine self in parish
- [thought to self, could there be an LGBT chaplain, rather than a place chaplain?]
- chaplains are on the edge
- prison - intense and emotionally demanding
- large capacity to love, love those otehrs would find difficult, and can't loveselves
- gift of love to loveless place, and bring hope that anyone's broken life can have meaning
- structured expectations - visit new prisoners within 24hrs, visit segregated, visit hospital
- paid by prison service, but critical friend eg on policy
- uni - students have less baggage
- Christian community
- wider community - all faiths and none, generous
- element of mission but not priority
- religious literacy - prepare students for a world that is 85% people of faith
- 'friar' in community [I like this image]
- "be you, there"
- school - welcome and hospitality, mental health
- resources for worship
- put on services for organisation
- "be a good guest"
- not of the organisation whilst in it
- talk to anyone, full access
- earn trust and show integrity
- lovely, a privilege
- transience, let people go
- listening
Bumped into a familiar face from CPAS!
More tea and coffee, then a final session for a panel Q&A.
Notes:
- have to be recommended by vicar
- know where you could engage the debates, and where you can't - trust each other to be under scripture and under God, and walk together in prayer
- mental health difficult in church context
- at first, revisit feelings of incompetency
- it will cost for family
- look at all college options - not straightforward - what experience do you want, needs in academic theology, time, community, tradition, somewhere you can come alive
- official discernment process comes under Equality Act
- call is complicated - follow and obey but also life does happen and can change course - God works through strange ways
- husbands not so hot on clergy spouse support as wives - careful of boundaries with your spouse - are they called to be part of ministry
- take ordination vows seriously eg obedience - can be part of the Church's own discernment - Issue of Human Sexuality "content to live within these guidelines" - have to accept to be put forward for ordination
- BAP - vulnerability of being 100% convinced whilst also knowing that you're coming into the possibility of being told you're wrong
After one more cup of tea, we have a lovely Eucharist, and as I said, I had a lovely chat with one of the other attendees at the train station, just after I filmed the video.
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