Thoughts of a Blackpool Curate

Thoughts on the riots and society

2011-08-12T15:34:00.001+01:00

I took a funeral this morning and am now having some 'reflection time'. I had considered writing the next instalment of my 'where I was at with Jesus' series but the whole subject of the riots that we have seen in the last week seems to be more in the consciousness of many of us.

My first reaction on seeing coverage of the riots on television was to think 'What has the world come to?' I even remarked to a friend who is also in Christian ministry jokingly—but only half joking: is this a sign of the end-times? I am fairly conservative in my politics and do not always have a lot of time for what could be termed 'fluffy' responses to situations like these riots. I stand completely with all those who have said that the behaviour shown was completely and utterly unacceptable in every way. This is not the behaviour that we expect from a so-called civilised society. A friend of mine posted a link to an article in the Guardian—which I wouldn't normally read—by Russell Brand. Whilst I suspect that—if we ever met—Russell and I would agree on very little, he raises a number of interesting points, and his own experience makes the article a compelling read.

Many people seem to be talking about these criminals being poor or disenfranchised from society and see some kind of explanation—for I don't think even the most liberal person would say 'justification'—for these recent events. I grew up in an area where many people come from what might be called 'marginalised' groups. It was a predominantly working-class part of Bristol with many of the problems that often go with that. I am familiar with the type of society where some people feel that they don't belong, or that they are at the margins. I am familiar with people who encounter obstacles, no matter how hard they seem to try. I know some people for whom life is full of nothing but frustration and often despair. I remember feeling some of that despair even though I had the advantage of being fairly bright. My 'escape' from that world was through education and my faith. I put the word 'escape' in inverted commas because that is how I often saw it. More recently, as I approached and now have passed my ordination, I see the past as being quite present: to some extent, somewhere inside, I still inhabit that world even if my life, at least on the outside, might suggest something different. If you walk around any working-class estate, it is interesting to have a glance at the outside of the houses, particularly the front gardens for those houses that have them. It seems to me that there are two main types. The first type are those houses that seems to be determined to make the best out of the little that they have and make an effort to keep their houses and gardens tidy. This is what I remember growing up. Now, I am not talking about the type of lawns that you see in Cambridge Colleges; I am talking about usually fairly basic areas of grass, and in some cases flowers and plants. The second type are those houses where the attitude seems to be something along the lines of 'Well, we've got f*** all, so what is the point in looking after it.' When I was growing up, it seemed that the second type was very much a minority and there was a sort of 'working-class pride'—if I can put it that way—that frowned on those houses that didn't seem to care. I have not lived in the area I grew up in for 14 years or so and so I have lost touch with life there to some extent, but it seems to me that, more and more, what we observe is the second type being the picture of working-class—or even 'benefit-class'—Britain that we are presented with. This isn't the working-class culture that I remember growing up.

Russell Brand makes two related points in his article that have struck me: 'so many people feel utterly disconnected from the cities they live in' and '[t]hese young people have no sense of community because they haven't been given one.' This hit the nail on the head for me. I am only 32 years old, but it strikes me that, even in my short 32 years, society has become more and more individualistic. People seem obsessed with what they think that they are entitled to: with their 'rights'. There is a whole generation or two—and I am, obviously, included in this—who have never known life without a National Health Service or Unemployment Benefits and other such things. It is wonderful that we have grown up with these things but I think that what has happened is that we are used to a society where we have come to expect certain things and it seems that our expectations are becoming greater and greater. There is also, surely, an extent to which we have lost a sense of boundaries. As society has become more liberal and suspicious of absolutes, we have come to question what previously has just been assumed. I think that this is also true of the limits of what we think of as unacceptable behaviour. No matter how poor we were as I was growing up, or others around me, there is no way that anybody would have said that what we have witnessed could be a justifiable response to whatever poverty of disillusionment we might be experiencing.

This growing individualisation and liberalism has, I think, led to a society in which it has become much more difficult to give people appropriate boundaries. If you called a meeting to put in place a list of 'appropriate boundaries', you can bet money that somebody would ask for a definition of the term! I don't think it is as simple as blaming parents because, at the end of the day, that merely carries on our own perverted focus and obsession on the individual. I think that the problem we have is that we have—and I recognise that this might be too much of a generalisation—lost a sense of community identity. It has been heartening to see many groups of people out on the streets clearing up, but I can't help feeling that is too little, too late. What happens when the streets have been cleaned? Surely, we will all just revert back to being a collection of individuals who just happen to be occupying the same space? I think that this is the central issue rather than poverty, and I am not convinced that it was only the poor and disenfranchised who were rioting and looting. The issue is the lack of community that we see in our society generally.

I remember that in the late '90s and early '00s, there was a lot of talk at Church about the concept of 'neighbour'. I don't really know whether this was a national thing or just what my vicar like to talk about at the time, but the idea stuck and has been popping up again. Along with this idea of 'neighbour', I also hear the words of the person who asked Our Lord, 'Who is my neighbour?' Well, we are all each other's neighbours. You, reader, are my neighbour and I yours. These 'hooligans'—because it somehow makes it easier to label—are my neighbour and I theirs. I am just as bad as anybody else at trying to exist in my little individual bubble but somehow I think that I, and we all, have to start changing that. Maybe belonging does have to come first, I don't know. Perhaps it is only then when we feel that we all belong to a community that we will feel anything like a kind of social responsibility that will look after the poor—rather than expecting that some anonymous person in a local authority office will do it for us—and will help us all to have some sense of duty to look after and take pride in our local community rather than feeling that it is somehow ok to destroy it and destroy the lives of those who have lost homes and businesses.

Lord, we lift before you our broken society and we pray for healing and reconciliation in our land, and that we might become a society where we might all feel that we belong and grow in love and respect for each other. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ. [Feel free to comment with 'Amen' if you'd like to join in my prayer—even if you don't agree with everything I have posted.]

1 month into curacy

2011-08-08T14:46:00.001+01:00

Well, I was ordained deacon 5 weeks and two days ago. I have survived my first month as an assistant curate.

I have blogged a lot over the last few years about the whole process of selection and training, and so I thought it was about time that I started offering some thoughts on starting my curacy, in the hope that it might be of help and encouragement to some people.

It is a very strange time when you leave theological college and move into your curate's house. You arrive in a parish in which you will have a very visible and public role but as yet you have no role. I found that the anonymity was wonderful, and for me it was lovely to be back in the North West of England where many people will wish you 'Good morning [or whatever other time of day]'. It is strange to walk through the streets realising that pretty soon you will be walking down those same streets wearing a clerical collar. Everybody will recognise you and the majority of them will greet you and smile at you.

The ordination retreat was an absolutely wonderful time. In some ways it felt like being back at BAP, in that you are in a strange place cut off from most of the rest of the world, saying prayers together and waiting. The obvious difference is that the decision to ordain you has been made and you are simply waiting for it. The scrutiny is over, and you are sure that nothing will stop the ordination, that is of course assuming that you don't do something extremely stupid during the retreat! The retreat was in silence. This suited the introvert in me. It was so much easier to cope with the nerves and the new people without having to talk to them all the time and to feel the need to fill every gap with words. Instead, we prayed the Offices together, shared Holy Communion and people spent much time with their own thoughts, praying and reading the Scriptures. The retreat was led by the Rt Rev'd John Goddard, Bishop of Burnley. His addresses had a depth of spirituality and love that I have rarely experienced and the consensus seemed to be that it was a real blessing to have +John leading the retreat. He was incredibly good at reaching people to the same depth, no matter what their churchmanship was: and believe me there were some obvious differences!

The ordination was an event that passed very quickly. We left the retreat and arrived at the Cathedral well before the service was due to start. We had time to mill around and I found a place to offer some prayers for people that needed to be offered. As you can imagine, the rest of the time was spent pacing around. I managed to see some of my friends before the service which was nice. We ordinands spent some time together in silence before the service and then that moment came when we were summoned to assemble for the procession. The moment that will most stick with me from the service was when we all knelt to sing the Veni Creator Spiritus. I sobbed the whole way through it and was only able to join in properly for about the last verse. It was a very powerful moment to kneel in the sanctuary with our Bishop kneeling in the middle of us. A coach full of people came from my parish—S. Christopher and S. Nicholas, Blackpool—and I joined the coach, with my family, to ride back to the Church for a celebration. It was a wonderful moment when I climbed the steps of the coach and my incumbent said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Father Matthew". I felt as though I should perhaps have said something but I was just desperate to see my wife and daughter and have a rest. The rest of the ordination day felt basically as though I spent the whole time running around trying to make sure I spoke to everybody but feeling like I had not given anybody enough time.

It was wonderful to serve at Mass as a deacon, though I must confess that it still feels a little strange to put a stole on. I am slowly getting used to it. The evening of my first Sunday—the first day after my ordination—saw a Confirmation service and so I had to deacon for the Diocesan Bishop as he came to confirm ten candidates from our parish. Talk about starting at the deep end! That went well though. It is strange to hear your Bishop refer to you as "Father Matthew". It is strange getting used to people addressing you with the title "Father". There is a huge difference between calling each other "Father" at theological college with a wink and the reality when it happens. If people say "Morning, Father", I still sometimes look round to see who they are talking to! All of these things take time! Going back to the point about walking the same streets in a clerical collar, it is remarkable how many people smile at you and greet you compared to when you weren't wearing one. The best moment for me was, after having been to an assembly at the Church school, when a kid from the school leant out of his (parents') car window to shout "Alright, Father Matthew!" There are some other times when people seem to think it is funny to shout rude comments—similar to the comments of the roofers in that episode of Rev where Fr Adam removes his collar and tells them to **** off—and if I am walking along the road in a cassock (on a Sunday) some people beep their horns and shout. The reaction of the large majority of people to a clerical collar or a cassock seems to be a positive one in my experience so far.

The first few weeks have been spent with adjusting to this new life. I have spent a lot of time trying to get round and visit people and get to know them. Also, it is a matter of getting used to a new routine in a new community. It is a real privilege to spend time with people in their homes, listening to their stories. The greatest blessing I have had so far was being able to take the Blessed Sacrament to a parishioner in the hospice. She was in for some respite care and was due to leave the week after. She deteriorated though and died on the following Monday and so it was such a blessing to have been able to take her Communion and meet her before she died. She was a prominent member of the parish and highly involved. I would have hated not to have had a chance to meet her and then have to be at her funeral and experience the grief that naturally follows the death of somebody so important to the community.

I have now already taken two funerals and I baptized two children this last Sunday. The thing that College doesn't really prepare you for—or at least, it took me by surprise—was just how exposed and vulnerable leading a service can make you feel. I came out of the baptism service yesterday and my first words to my training incumbent were: "I felt like a blithering idiot". He assures me that I did very well. I am blessed with a good training incumbent who so far seems to trust me and my abilities and seems to be able to say just the right thing when I am feeling less confident. I find it easier when I have words in front of me to read because I can almost hide behind them. It is all the little 'asides' and the more informal addresses—the unscripted bits—that make me feel completely out of my depth and exposed. After all, I have to come up with something and hope that it will be the right thing to say.

There are still a lot of things that I am getting used to and it is interesting for me to reflect a little on what I find easy and what I find hard. But I am sure that I have a good incumbent whom I trust: I think that that really is the key!

some creases ironed out

2011-04-06T20:50:00.002+01:00

Since I posted that last entry, I realised that it was probably a bit hard for any readers to put the pieces together. I think that this is probably consistent with the way my life was and the way that my recollection of it is, even now. This period was 11-14 years ago and so it is natural that things be somewhat messy and confused.

I remember that, growing up, I often felt outside of things. I think that much of this was largely down to growing up without a father, and that what paternal presence there was not always the most helpful in terms of the memories that it would give me. I knew that he had been a violent alcoholic when he was married to my mum. They divorced when I was four and my dad remarried twice. There were a few times when I was little that I would get to see him. This largely consisted with being taken to the park and then to the pub where my dad would drink. I have some memories of hiding in my mum's bedroom with the curtains closed while he was shouting outside. I remember him reversing his car through the hedge of the front garden. I remember him driving onto the pavement towards us and clipping my brother's hand with the wing-mirror. These were all things that to some extent we had to keep quiet. The biggest reason for this was that—I must speak for myself: I can't speak for the rest of my family—I didn't want everybody to know the truth of what was going on but carried the pain inside. This holding back was probably what most contributed to feeling outside of things: people could not know the (whole) truth and so I kept them on the outside. I did have friends but it was my own lack of self-confidence that made me feel lonely. Much of my energy was channelled into music and language and I excelled at them and so gained people's respect and admiration, even if this led, to some extent, to feeling different in my family.

Singing in the parish choir was beautiful: I remember the beauty of the anthems. I remember Stainer's crucifixion and the goose pimples I still get when I sing the male chorus parts that recall the words of Christ on the cross. I remember the immense feeling of peace that was with me when I left Evensong and walked home: peace in the midst of all the pain and unrest.

The first thing that struck me about charismatic worship that I saw on my first visit to my friend's church was the passion with which people sang. I remember thinking that people appeared to really mean it. The worship tended to contain much more emotional kinds of singing. All the repressed emotions that I tended to hold down could be allowed to come out through emotional and passionate worship. I remember the day when the leader came back from Toronto and people experienced the 'Toronto blessing': I didn't believe in any of what was happening but wanted to be prayed for. When I was prayed for, I found myself 'slain in the Spirit'—falling to the floor—and as people continued to pray for me, I felt an overwhelming sense run through me that I was loved and accepted by God and precious to Him. I sobbed and sobbed as they prayed. Many people laughed or sobbed in this experience and so it wasn't a case of me causing a scene! This kind of charismatic worship and prayer enabled me—and many others—to engage with the emotional world that it was not always easy to engage with otherwise. As I said before, I don't know why I went back to the Anglican parish I had started my pilgrimage in but I did and rediscovered that sense of peace.

At University, I still carried a lot of this emotional baggage and was to some extent trying to run away from it all. This would all, of course, catch up with me as I began to lead a life away from the 'security' that I had at home: weak though that was. At least my family knew me and understood me—even if not fully. Charismatic worship continued to engage that emotional world and gave a way of letting those emotions out; and the somewhat sentimental sort of charismatic worship gave a language to let those emotions out, even if I continued not to face the real stuff underneath properly. It was a way of letting the emotions out by saying something different that was easier to say. What conservative evangelical teaching gave was a security about my faith: a confidence that there were set answers to many situations. What the Bible said was true because it was the inerrant word of God and everything needed to be held against Scripture and examined through the lens of Scripture. I was a person that struggled to find security and answers and so I think that, for me, conservative theology offered ready-made answers. I think that I was hiding in them. I think that this was perhaps the reason that I struggled to really be a part of 'mission' activities: I was not sure that I really believed these things. I certainly felt that evangelism was about more that simply 'ramming the Bible down people's throat' or telling them that 'God has created you and you owe Him your obedience'. [A friend in the CU actually said that to a friend on my course who I had been getting to know and talking to. He was now well and truly put off. Thanks!] I think this was also part of why I was 'compromising' so much. I was hiding in charismatic evangelicalism: it did not truly reflect what was inside, even though I would continue in it for another 3 or 4 years. More of that to come…

I hope that that makes things a bit clearer. It certainly helps me to understand what I was trying to say.

Where I was at with Jesus 18-21

2011-04-06T17:22:00.002+01:00

I realised the other day that I have not done this since January having promised a next instalment soon. Apologies to all of you who have been checking and getting at me to carry on. I am in the library trying to do some work but thought I would have a little break.

Having just had a quick re-read of the first in the 'where I'm at' series, I realised I stopped at the point where I had gone back to the original parish church that I went to before moving to University. I remember what a strange time that summer was. I did well in my A-Levels and secured a place at Lancaster University to read French, German and Italian. [You had to take three subjects in your first year.] The prospect of moving away from home brought with it a whole heap of questions about who I was. I think that growing up often brings with it a certain amount of restrictions: who you are can be largely defined by the past, and by what your friends and family (think they) know about you. At that point, I was the first person in my family—to my knowledge—that had gone to University and so suddenly it felt that I was somehow breaking the mould. Yeah, I had always been 'bright' but somehow this felt like a cutting off: not in the sense of 'disowning' but rather in 'redefining'. There before me was a chance to completely reinvent myself. I was asking lots of questions about myself, not least about my faith, my sexuality and all those sorts of things. I think that this was also partly to do with how other people saw me. I had always been sensitive, emotional, artistic, passionate—some would add effeminate—and so I tended to be labelled 'gay'. True I never really had a serious relationship—apart from a holiday 'romance' with a girl in Cornwall. [Yes, a girl!] I guess such labelling forces you to think about these things and I was all up for turning up in Lancaster with a blank sheet in front of me: both in terms of faith and in terms of sexuality.

I remember the first night at Lancaster, sat in the bar getting hideously drunk, desperate to be liked and accepted. I ended up talking to some people, and in particular I ended up talking to one girl who said that she was going to go to the Chaplaincy Centre's service and I decided that I would go with her. [Yes, I fancied her a little bit!] I remember the service being a fairly gentle, non-threatening service and so I was quite happy to be there. A little later in the year, ended up going with another girl I fancied to the Free Methodist Church in Lancaster, which was quite upbeat and exciting as I remember. I seem to remember going to the pastor's house for lunch one week which I am assuming meant that I went there for a little while but I don't really remember. I also ended up at some point going to the Christian Union but I don't really remember how that came about. I went along to things there and to meetings. I think I was still a little bit in the sort of charismatic mould at this point, but very much in the quieter version of it: the kind that manifests in going for walks and sitting in trees and sensing the presence of God. These were people who were really up for evangelism to the point where that sometimes seemed all they talked about. I have a vague memory of doing the CU mission week bar crawl where we were supposed to start talking to people about Jesus. I think I ended up just drinking and chatting with people. I don't think I really wanted to do it but there was a bizarre kind of peer pressure and it was hard to get out of it. I wasn't suitably extrovert to feel comfortable with just going up to people and talking to them about my faith. They always seemed a lot more certain than I was about things.

I remember spending my first year with French students. I didn't find it easy to make friends with the English students. I think I was quite odd to most of them. I liked drinking and stuff but I was never quite cool enough. I remember realising that French people of my age—or slightly older—were very much more philosophical and often atheist than I was. My memories get confused because I seem to remember arguing with them quite firmly about the Christian faith. I think I had a general feeling of not belonging: I didn't feel that I really belonged to the world at home in Bristol, neither did I feel that I belonged to the world of English students around me. Although I somehow felt more at home with the French students, even there I didn't belong. They always seemed to be much better equipped at talking about matters of philosophy and had a very different view of the world.

I remember ending up at Spring Harvest in my first year at Uni. I went with some of my friends from the independent charismatic church that I used to go to before. I don't remember whether I went back there in the holidays though I think I must have done. I remember making friends with one person in particular. This was great. There were two of us who were kind of more up for sitting in the chalet 'totty-watching'—even grading out of 10 as I remember—than really being completely up for the sometimes mad goings on, being a little suspicious of what was going on. I think the end of my first year saw me more involved with the Christian Union and I remember at the end of the summer between the first and second year deciding that I would take my faith more seriously which really meant being more into the CU model of things: the Chaplaincy was no longer a place that I would go to because they weren't 'true Christians' or something.

The second year, I was definitely more into CU and went on the 'Houseparty'—residential weekend away—and I remember being really touched by it and really feeling that God was doing something in me. I began to take it all more seriously and probably became a lot more zealous about my faith (i.e. 'conservative') even if I still wasn't very good at the whole mission-week kind of thing. I don't know why that was such a problem but it was. I was diagnosed with depression during my second year and ended up intercalating, and eventually 'dropping out'. Many people with depression struggle with their faith, but I found that my faith was one of the things that really helped me through and I felt so close to God. I think the walks and sitting in trees were very much a part of this. I learnt to cry before God. I stayed in Lancaster for about six months working at the police station and going to the charismatic evangelical parish there, St Thomas. I think I started going there after the Houseparty in about October or November. Many of my friends from CU went there and so it became the 'cool' place to go. I was definitely a charismatic evangelical at this point. I thought that anything else was dead and would be spat out of Jesus' mouth [Revelation 3:16] for being neither hot nor cold. Lukewarm spirituality was one of the things that was most despised. I think I became somebody for whom 'worship' was more important than 'preaching'. I wanted to worship God and do it with passion, within the parameters of what could be called 'spirit-filled worship'. All this said, I was always 'compromising' in some way. 'Compromising' was the favourite term for not quite living out the Christian life: for me this was smoking and drinking (sometimes too much), swearing and sometimes telling rude jokes.

I then moved back home, during which time I turned 21. A friend from Lancaster was doing a Masters at Bristol Uni and so I managed to maintain some contact there. I used to travel across Bristol to go to her housegroup and made some good friends there. It was while I was here that I began to think and pray about what I felt called to. I came to the conclusion during a prayer meeting that I wanted to give my life to the church: I wanted to work for the Church. This was not geared towards ordained ministry, because I was probably still suspicious of that, but I was definitely moving towards something in the Church. I think it was missionary work—because of my gift for languages. I remember feeling that I was called to go to China and even learned Putonghua [Mandarin Chinese]. I even was organising to do a trip with a group from CMS to China but couldn't get my act together to raise money for it. Depression still meant that I didn't always have the 'get-up-and-go' to get things done, even if the spiritual side of things was extremely willing.

Perhaps the most significant part of this time was that I was feeling suicidal one day and had been crying on my bed for an hour in a darkened room asking 'how would I end it' rather than 'would I end it'. I remember the utter darkness of this point and feeling—quite literally—that something was on top of me holding me down. In the midst of all the darkness and suicidal thoughts, I remember hearing a voice in my ear that said "Matthew, I have a plan and I want you to be a part of it." In good charismatic fashion I then said, "In the name of Jesus, be gone." Suddenly the darkness lifted and I sat up feeling disorientated wondering where I had been. I knew that I would get better and I would take steps towards making that happen. Depression is not the sort of things that ends so instantly but I realised that I had to want to get better to get better and take steps towards that. The worst thing about my depression that I remember was the way that you get into a vicious-cycle than can perpetuate the condition. It is more complex than that, and I have to do a disclaimer now in case anybody has found this googling blogs about depression: I do not believe that depression is necessarily a spiritual thing that can be defeated by invoking the name of Jesus. Recovery is a long process that needs a lot of support. You should not simply stop taking medication because you are choosing to get better. I hope that does the job. For me, I have to say that there was a spiritual aspect to it and that was what was defeated in invoking the name of Jesus. I think that this was linked in a way to a sense of not being worthy, and now I could move forward confident that the power of Christ would be with me to help me as I slowly began to recover.

I was still a charismatic and believed in prophecies and in particular prophetic dreams. I still believe in them. I was convinced (and still am) that I had a prophetic dream in which I dreamt about the charismatic evangelical Anglican parish in Lancaster that I used to go to. I woke up on a Saturday morning convinced that God was calling me to go back to Lancaster and on the Thursday I had moved up.

More to follow… don't hesitate to e-mail me for any clarifications or questions—or simply comment here.

Tonight’s sermon

2011-01-31T00:14:00.001Z

Evensong and Benediction

Little S. Mary's, Cambridge—Sunday, 30 January 2011

Genesis 28:10-end

When it comes to family relationships,
the best that most of us can say
is that,

well,
we are not very good at them—not all the time, anyway.

We might like to talk about
looking after each other,
putting the good of the family first,
and all those kinds of things;
but,
at the end of the day,
most of us are really—if we're honest—not very good at putting the needs of others before our own.
How quickly we sometimes fall
into lies and deceit:
to cover our own backs,
to protect our own interests,

When I was little,
growing up in Bristol,
my brother and I would be playing—the happiest children in the world—but then something would go wrong.

We'd make a pact to not tell:
a pact so strong
that neither earth nor heaven can break it.
That is, until Mum came out into the garden.
As soon as we saw that look,
we looked at each other,
bound together by our solemn oath:
stronger than oak.
And then all of a sudden:
"It was 'im, mu'".
And then comes forth
a blow by blow account
of whatever transgression had been committed.

Trust broken,
punches exchanged,
tears shed,
sent to bed!

Though we usually knew we would be friends again,
a certain time had to pass,
so that the severity of the crime,
the fraternal pact broken,
could be understood.
Oh the sweet moral high-ground!
Not
—I hasten to add—always occupied by me!

It is a trait that we never truly grow out of.
We spend our whole lives
finding ways to protect ourselves:
our homes,
our finances,
our loved ones,
our emotions.
We put up our fences,
lock our gates,
close our curtains,
safe from the world outside.
But it takes just one random moment,
one random incident,

for the whole thing to fall apart.
And then where are we?

Jacob,
in many ways,
is a supreme example of looking out for oneself.
His name יַעֲקֹב

means
'he will seize the heel' or supplant or deceive.
He will grasp whatever he can take.

He gets his brother to give away his birthright,
for a bowl of lentil soup. I would have asked for carrot and coriander. He tricks his father into giving him

the blessing of the first-born.
In effect, he has taken everything,
leaving his brother with nothing.
Esau was—quite understandably—a little angry with this

and planned to kill his brother Jacob.
And so we are left with Jacob fleeing for his life.

And so we find him in our first lesson.
He is fleeing from his brother.

In one sense,
he has nobody to blame but himself.
He is the person in the wrong.
But he is now facing
the perhaps unforeseen consequences of his actions.
He is desperate.
Having fled from the comfort and security
of his family home,
we find him sleeping in a field,
with nothing but a rock for comfort.

It is into this sheer desperateness that God intervenes with a wonderful vision:

angels descending and ascending a ladder.
'I am with you and I will keep you wherever you go.'
When he has reached perhaps the lowest point of his life,
God intervenes.
God gives him a hope.
God is with him.

He arrives at the home of his mother's family.
He rebuilds his life,
gets married,

and although it isn't all plain sailing,
things are starting to look up.

The Lord tells him to return to his homeland.
After another meeting with angels in chapter 32,
Jacob sends gifts to his brother
to try to make amends.

He then has his wrestling match with God,
and the next morning meets his brother and they reconcile.
His name is changed.

No longer is he יַעֲקֹב—he will supplant:
he is now יִשְׂרָאֵל—he will contend with God.
His encounters with the Divine
bring about a radical transformation
both within himself
and in his relationships with others.

All of this happened when Jacob has stopped seizing for himself.
All of this happened because Jacob was open to God: and maybe the only reason this could happen was because he had run out of options himself.
All of his fences and walls had to come down.
He had to admit his point of need: his inability to sort things out by himself.

God appeared to Jacob
when he was at his greatest point of need.
At Christmas and in this Epiphanytide,
we remember and celebrate
God meeting us at our greatest point of need.

'God in man made manifest'
in the person of Jesus Christ
has intervened in our world
and in our very lives.
We celebrate not because we have hit such a high standard—in our lives or even in the quality of our worship:
rather, we rejoice

because in all of our weakness and brokenness,
and in all our failures,
God, in Jesus Christ,
has come to bring us salvation:
to show us another way forward.

This evening, we hail that presence—that intervention of God—in the Blessed Sacrament:
Jesus Christ present among us.

There is no seizing or grasping:
there is nothing we can do to commend ourselves to Him.

All we can do is come before him
with all of our sins,
all of our broken relationships,
all of our selfishness,
wrestling with all those areas of our lives
in which we feel torn and divided,
between knowing what is right,
and doing what is right.

We come before him
for no other reason
than that he loves us:
so much that he would give everything for us.
All we can do is come before him,
our hearts and minds open to him,
willing to be healed by him,
willing to be transformed by him:
Perhaps even willing to apologise and make amends.

Who knows what visions we might see?

Where I was at with Jesus until about 18 years of age.

2011-01-23T16:52:00.001Z

I think I ought to start this series with a version of my 'testimony'. This might help to put the other things in context.

My own journey of faith has seen many changes. I started life in what I suppose could be called a middle-of-the-road Church of England parish. I suppose there were some people who leaned more towards the Evangelical side of the Church of England and some who leant more towards the 'high-Church' end—or at least more traditional. I remember being struck early on by a great sense of being where I was meant to be. I have a vague memory of the first time—when I was about 10 years old—I went to Church and sitting there feeling as though I was supposed to have been here all my life. I don't even know why that was but something just felt right and clicked. A couple of years later I joined the choir and sang in the choir for probably 3 years—which seemed like a long time as a teenager. I always enjoyed it and certainly enjoyed that sense of belonging to part of the furniture of the Church. I particularly liked singing at Choral Evensong which—as far as I can remember—was ASB evening prayer with 'Anglican Chant' psalms, and of course an anthem that we would sing. I remember as I grew up a but more feeling a tremendous feeling of peace as I walked home from Evensong and I always looked forward to it and enjoyed the walk there—especially when it meant walking past the house of the girl I liked at school who I hoped I would maybe see…coincidentally of course.

I guess in some ways that my home life was quite unsettled and lacking in peace and security. I felt at this age that that was what the Church offered me. I felt happy about belief in a God who—ultimately, at least—was Lord over the heavens and the earth and I felt that somehow I could put my trust in him. Looking back, I think that the start of my vocation happened here when I sneaked up into the pulpit and look out over the Church and felt a bizarre feeling of destiny but it would be years before that would really be part of my life. I think that at the very least I wanted to take my faith seriously and I quickly became aware of those people who were suspicious of other people who took religion too seriously: 'of course, this doesn't really need to have an effect on my life.' It would be unfair to attribute this to too many of the parish but it was certainly part of the rhetoric that I remember.

At the age of about 15, I visited my best friend's church. It was an independent charismatic evangelical church—that had previously been a Baptist church and was now part of 'Bristol Christian Fellowship'. This was quite different to anything I had experienced before. I went there at about the time of the 'Toronto Blessing' and this would be a huge part of the next few years. What I first remember is the warmth of the people and the enthusiasm that was shown in their worship. When the band were practising before the service, it was less performance and more like a lover singing to the beloved: there was a passion and an intensity that I had not seen before. This profoundly affected me and I remained at this church for about three years I reckon. I suddenly began to be passionate about Scripture and really believed that God had written every word of it—even if some of it was repulsive to Western liberal society: well after all, they clearly had not been enlightened by the Spirit of God! [;-]] My family and friends were, of course, all hell-bound because they had not confessed faith in Jesus Christ, their mediator and substitute. What did happen though was the growth of a real enthusiasm for Scripture and a 'charismatic' sense of prayer and worship. Looking back what strikes me most was the strong sense of rhetoric and a sense in which there were set ways in which one could experience God and a set way of understanding Scripture and that—though you had to 'weigh up' what the preacher said with Scripture—they preached in a way such that Richard Dawkins would probably shout 'Amen'.

Just before moving to University I went back to the Anglican church that I had attended previously. I still don't know why but I enjoyed it and knew that something was changing. I was also asking myself lots of questions about who I was and knew that the answer had to lie in being far away from home: far away from the stress of our single-parent family and the lack of money and the like (perhaps there is another blog post there). It wasn't that I had lost my faith but that it became different and less intense. If at the zenith of my charismatic experience—up until then—I had become a Holy Spirit junkie, I suppose I was now beginning a process of rehabilitation. I think the charismatic experience had given me a sense of escape: what the 'manifestations of the Holy Spirit' I experienced had given me was a kind of 'other' reality that I could escape to. I cannot say that none of it was real or genuine but I think that there were—and still are—other forces at play: perhaps more psychological than I would have cared to admit. I think the return to a perhaps less threatening and 'in your face' form of Christianity just gave me a safe place to rest awhile. Then I moved to University…[to be continued].

Where I’m at…

2011-01-23T15:34:00.001Z

I have decided that I need to revive my blog. It has been far too long since I have written on it and I have received some lovely encouragement to keep going. People are still reading things I wrote a couple of years ago and so I reckon I ought to keep going.

I have decided that the way forward is to do a little series on 'where I'm at'. This comes partly from a joke I have with another ordinand here. We both share a background in evangelicalism and I often take the [insert appropriate word] out of the way that you often hear evangelical preachers—not exclusively but somewhat more commonly—use phrases such as 'where [insert person] is at'. For example: "Where are you at with Jesus?" "We have to speak the Gospel to people where they're at." So the series that I am going to write is along this theme. This will include themes like churchmanship, prayer, mission and so on. I hope that you will come back to have a look.

2011-11-13

2010-11-13T16:23:00.001Z

And already another two and a half months have passed since my last post! I always think to myself that I am going to post more often but it never quite seems to happen.

I mentioned in my last post that I had been offered a parish to serve my title in. I went to visit and it made a very good impression on me. Both the building itself and what I sensed of the prayerfulness really hit me and made me think that this would be a good place to come to. I seemed to get on very well with the incumbent and sensed that we would get on very well and develop a very good relationship. We verbally agreed when I was there that I would come there to serve my title but since then the official letters have been exchanged and so I can now announce that I will serve my title at the parish of St Christopher and St Nicholas in Blackpool. Next I will have a visit with Toni and Caitlin where we will hopefully see the house we will live in and see a Sunday Mass.

We are now seven weeks into the new year at Westcott House. It is an interesting feeling to be here for a third year. Much of the excitement has gone and I am just keen to get on with things and move to Blackpool. Most of the people that I arrived here with are now serving their diaconal year in various places. Now I am in the same year group as the people who were a year later than me last year. One of the things that I have noticed is less of a sense of belonging to a community and more a sense of really figuring out what I am becoming passionate about and what I feel called to. That said, I have started to feel as though I am getting to know some of the new people. It is always interesting when one starts to go past the small talk with somebody and starts to get to talking about the much deeper things.

I have been thinking a lot about prayer and contemplation recently. Partly this came from watching The Big Silence on BBC2 and thinking about the importance of silence. The first episode inspired me to have a silent day. Toni and Caitlin had gone to Peterborough to stay with Toni's mum and so I decided that it would be an ideal location. The TV and radio were off, as was my mobile phone and I spent the day praying and thinking. It really touched me quite significantly and so I am eager to try to think about when and how I can build this more into my life. One of the new ordinands here—who is also married and living on site—and I are talking about going on retreat and so that will be a nice time to get to know each other and pray.

It is strange when you find that people arriving at college have read this blog and, in some cases, have been encouraged by it. I suppose I don't often think that I have anything helpful or interesting to say but more and more I am finding that this is not the case which is very encouraging.

Catching up

2010-08-31T11:23:00.004+01:00

Well, it has been over two months since I last wrote. A friend of mine recently sent me a message to encourage me to post something again. He did say that the world needs my wisdom. I am not promising wisdom, but I can promise you a little insight into what is happening in my life at the moment. Where to start…

At the start of July I began an 8-week placement at one the parishes here in Cambridge. I have done 5 weeks and will be doing the final three weeks in September. It has been interesting. The parish is an urban priority area, with significant problems. The 'Church' itself is a multi-purpose hall which is used mostly for various groups that pay to use it: which helps to keep the parish afloat. The only worship that goes on is the Sunday morning service. The 'sanctuary' area is hidden behind a fold-back screen which contains the 'table' [i.e. altar], which also doubles as a make-shift store room for the table-tennis table and table football table. The services aim to be charismatic evangelical in style but it rather feels as though it struggles to be anything in particular. It is a 'mucking through' parish. The hardest thing for me is that it doesn't feel like a sacred space and it is hard to worship there. What has been more positively interesting is the way that relationships begin to be formed. It occurs to me that people just want to heard, listened to, and cared about and it is interesting to be a part of that process. Perhaps the best summary I can give of the experience of the placement so far is 'an experience of fence repairing'. One Wednesday morning, the vicar of the parish and I erected a makeshift fence ready for the Mums' and Toddlers' group which meets on Friday mornings. The 'fence' was only knee high, but sufficient to keep toddlers in and there is a gate that can be opened—though not by toddlers. What I mean is that there was absolutely no need to vandalize the fence! We arrived on the Friday morning for the group to find that the fence had been torn down. We then spent some time putting it back up. It then lasted a week and a half, as I remember, and then was torn down to an extent that we couldn't repair it. Thankfully, it was raining which meant that the toddlers didn't want to play anyway. Since then, the vicar invested in a fence that could be rolled back. I think this serves as a metaphor for many of the experiences there.

Caitlin is doing well and is moving forward in leaps and bounds and seems to be fairly advanced. It is all very exciting. She was baptized at LSM on August 8^th. It was a lovely service and it was lovely to have family, friends and godparents here for the occasion. She cried slightly as the water was poured onto her head and then stopped immediately. We were very impressed with her behaviour. The only sadness to the day was that Toni's mother couldn't make it, because she was in hospital.

My mother in law had an accident in which the person she works for knocked her over with his wheelchair and continued to go over her ankle. She was in a cast and then developed two blood clots which we think then travelled up to her lungs. She has been in and out of hospital until even now. She seems to be doing a little better now but it will be a long recovery. In the meantime, Toni has been spending a lot of time—with Caitlin—at her mum's house helping to look after her younger sister and brother. So we have spent quite a lot of time apart. It has been hard and it is hard not to let all the stresses and frustrations of the last few weeks explode when we get together rather than enjoying the time, as we would both like to. Part of the problem is also that I am not very good at saying simple things like "I miss you". Instead, I joke about how lovely it is having time to myself. In a way, it is nice, and I adapt to it but I would rather have them here.

Last week, one of my grandparents died. Technically, he is my step-grandfather (paternal). My paternal grandfather died when I was a baby, and so I never knew him, though I do believe that there is a photograph somewhere of him holding me as a baby. My grandmother had already re-married when I was born and so I grew up with this man as my grandfather, and have some good memories of him. I called him 'Grampy', which many of us changed to 'Grumpy' on account of his shouting at the dog when I was little. I remember a time when I used to visit them most Saturday evenings, and he would look at my Nan and say "Alright, my queen?" (in broad Bristolian). It is something I sometimes say to Toni although I am not sure she understood where it came from. I remember having a chat with him and my Nan the night before my wedding, in which I was talking about how hard it was that my dad couldn't be there (having died when I was 14). His funeral is on the 15^th September and so I will be going to Bristol for that. It will be nice to see the family again—though would be better under more pleasant circumstances.

I have now had a letter from my Bishop recommending a parish to me to serve my Curacy in, which will begin June 2011. Good form, I think, dictates that I should not be too public about the details of where it is etc., but I am going to visit it next week. I have spoken to the incumbent on the phone and look forward to visiting him. The parish profile reads as though it was written with me in mind and so I am excited about going there. Unless, something smacks me in the face when I am there, I am hopeful that this will go ahead. I look forward to being able to give more details as and when I can.

And so, the curacy visit aside, it has been a rather hard few weeks but God is faithful in these times.

In the meantime, I will think of something more profound to write for next time. [Yeah right!]

Year two complete

2010-06-20T16:27:00.004+01:00

Year two of theological college is now done! I have done well in my exams, with the same overall average as I had last year: 67.6%—a good 2:1. I earned firsts in the two Biblical exegesis papers that I took this year. These were the two papers that I was most keen to do well in and so I was very pleased. I am meeting with my supervisor tomorrow to discuss an area of focus to write a dissertation on. It will be on some aspect of the Old Testament. The aim is to find something in which I can do a detailed textual/linguistic study so hopefully we will be able to agree on an area.

I have read my Bishop's letter which will now have been sent off to my Bishop. My college's recommendation to the Bishop based on my progress at theological college. It is very good—which was a relief—though balanced, in that it raises some areas to work on but its overall tone is that they are sure that this is happening and will continue to happen. In the meantime, I know that my Diocese will have met to discuss curacies and so I eagerly look forward to hearing something from them. I begin my Contextual Theology Placement on July 4^th. This is (a total of) 8 weeks in a local Church. From what I hear from friends who have done parish attachments and placements there, it is a placement that I will find very challenging though I look forward to those challenges and to being able to reflect upon them.

My daughter is now 3 weeks old. She is growing and we are gradually getting used to having somebody to look after, and to some things that help to settle her. I have found that holding her in a particular way will often—though not always—settle her within seconds. It involves one hand being on her bum and the other cupping her head while holding her right to my chest. I don't know why it works but it seems to. Also, we are beginning to gain confidence in our ability as parents and in our decision-making abilities. It is an exciting process and it is nice to be able to share the journey with the other (new) parents in the community here at Westcott House.

In the meantime, this is my favourite photograph of Caitlin:

Observations from fatherhood—1.

2010-06-02T17:04:00.001+01:00

Ok—so I have only been a father for three days: still very much at the very beginning of the slow learning process that is parenting but I thought it would interesting to begin to share a few thoughts and reflections.

Observation 1: women are absolutely amazing. Toni made me feel so proud. It was extremely difficult to watch her going through agony and to be pretty much helpless apart from the odd well-timed rub or supportive words. One conclusion I did come to was that women are not the 'weaker sex': there was no weakness there. For the 14 hours that I was there, she was completely silent through the contractions and a real inspiration.

Observation 2: fatherhood has made me territorial and protective. [Caveat: midwives and hospital staff do a wonderful job and I appreciate everything that they have done for us.] When I was sat in the hospital, in Toni's room in the hospital, the intrusion of midwives and other people began to wind me up. It was as though I was thinking "Who are you? What do you do? And what the hell are you doing to my daughter and why?" Must watch out for this but I think this a good instinct for a father to have.

Observation 3: completely ignore hospital midwives' advice on feeding. Never wake up a peacefully sleeping baby to feed them. They will let you know when they are hungry and if they seem to be peaceful, leave them be. If we had learnt this lesson, we would not have been up until 4am! Thankfully our community midwife encouraged us that we were right in wanting to leave her sleeping and feed her when she wants it.

There was probably something else but this will do for now.

Coming to the end of year 2.

2010-05-01T20:06:00.002+01:00

Well, here I am near the end of my second year at theological college. It is quite strange this year because many of the people who began their training at the same time as me are now preparing to leave college and be ordained. This leaves me with rather strange feelings. Next year, I will be having my Life and Service classes with a completely different year group—apart from a small number of people who, like me, have to do three years of 'training'. Although it won't—in the big scheme of things—make that much difference, I think what I am starting to go through is a sense in which I am losing some friends. The majority of people do only two years and so have all of their Life and Service classes with the same group of people. I have to get to know a whole new group of people. In some strange way, it will be like starting again. That said, I look forward to getting to know another group of people.

My essays are done and all handed in. The deadline is on Tuesday but my wife is 38 weeks pregnant, and it looks as though the baby might come early and so I was very keen to get everything done so that I can drop anything at any point. I now have three weeks until the examinations begin and so have plenty of time to revise, which I can now get on with without the stress of needing to get my essays done. The cot arrived the other day and we put it up yesterday, which was a lot easier that I thought it would be. Now that the cot is up, we have done everything that we need to do—or wanted to do: we are now ready. I am looking forward to the baby arriving and to all the transformations that will come with that. It has been amazing to think about how it has changed my perspectives on a number of things and so I am looking forward to finding out how the reality of fatherhood will impact everything. We are waiting…

One thing is for sure: this summer is going to be like no other I have experienced.

Grant…that they may reject those things that are contrary to their profession

2010-02-28T17:02:00.002Z

…and follow all such things as are agreeable to the same.

So reads the collect for today. Following my last post in which I wrote that we have to take responsibility for our own actions rather than blaming 'the enemy', these words struck me as really being, for me, what Lent is about. I confess that I have not given anything up. There has, however, been something that has changed fundamentally in my prayer and thought life. I have come to realise that I need God's help to transform me. I have a tendency to be overly self-critical and so I will stop myself from going on and on about everything that I perceive not to be 'up to scratch', but I will say that a desire to please the Lord seems to have been growing within me to a much heightened level. Often as I pray before the Offices or before Mass, I find myself praying 'Lord, grant that in this Word and Sacrament, I might discern your presence and be transformed, that, in all my doings I may please and glorify you.' I know that that seems quite formal but it seems to be what I find myself praying. Bizarrely, as I go up to receive Communion, I have found myself mouthing 'Domine Jesu Christe, salva me et sanctifica me'. Why would I pray in Latin? (I hope that all the cases and declensions are correct in that prayer—but God knows what I mean: 'Lord Jesus Christ, save me and sanctify me.')

One thing that I have noticed about theological college is that it can become very easy to look at other people and compare yourself to them—whether that is positively or negatively. 'I wish I was more like …' or 'At least I bother coming to the Offices unlike…' I notice that we all fall into this pattern and whether we are right or wrong to moan about other people, it all diverts attention away from our own walk with God. This happened for me recently. Going to the Offices became, to some extent, a way of comparing myself to those who—for whatever reasons—did not come. This year, I have sat at the back of the Chapel with a view of everybody in front of me. I realised that I had to move and so I went to the other extreme of sitting at the front so that I could not see who was behind me. This helped me—fallen man that I am—to regain a sense of the purpose of the Office. I have started taking an English Bible (as opposed to following the Hebrew and Greek) in with me as well and followed the readings. I have found that they have been hitting me quite a lot. All this has really affected my relationship with God—for there has to be one. All this is useless without it. One of the benefits of my charismatic past is that I have learnt the value of faith being a living part of life. How often do we just go through the motions without really seeking the presence of God, or allowing ourselves to be transformed by him?

'Do you believe in God?' 'Yes.' 'Do you believe in a God who can change the course of events on earth?' 'No, just the ordinary one?' (Grace Davie, 1994, Religion in Britain since 1945: Believing without belonging, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. p.1) Well, what happens if our answer to both questions is 'Yes'? Do our lives show this to the world? Is this what we experience in our own lives?

As for me, I am (re)discovering that my answer is yes, but that this has to have a profound effect on my life. This is becoming now part of my profession. And so, may the Lord grant that I—and all who call themselves 'Christian'—may reject all things that are contrary to my profession and follow all such things as are agreeable to the same. This is the belief that I am called to and at the heart of the ministry I am called to: to proclaim afresh and to make this transforming and healing presence of God a closer reality.

Prodigal sons

2010-02-22T10:05:00.001Z

I went to the silent mediation this morning before Morning Prayer and let my mind wander a little, as it inevitably does.

Being Lent, I began to think about sin and penitence and all that sort of stuff. I decided that I would read Psalm 51 and Romans 8. This was partly because I started to think about areas in my life that aren't 'as they should be'. I used Psalm 51 as a 'way in', a way of offering a prayer of penitence to God and then read Romans 8 afterwards. One particular phrase jumped out at me: 'For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.' (Romans 8:2 ESV) This particularly struck me as important when we think about sins that are addictive or that lead us to feel as though we are being 'sucked in' to their grasp and cannot escape.

At Mass yesterday morning at Little St Mary's, Bishop Jack Nicholls—formerly Bishop of Sheffield—preached on the prayer of confession and spoke a little about the prodigal son. He said that sometimes we have mixed motives for coming back to God—after all, it would seem that what drove the son's return was not penitence per se but rather a knowledge that he would be 'better off'. He also said that he had prepared a speech to give to his father, but that the Father—losing all dignity—ran towards the son to embrace him. As Bishop Jack said: 'Old men don't run: they proceed.' He said that in his 40-odd years in ordained ministry, he has discovered that most people don't need convincing that they are sinful: they do, however, need convincing that they are loved.

And so this morning I carried on reflecting and began to think of sin as a prison. I began also to think about a particular phrase that we sometimes hear used of temptation: 'The devil/enemy is attacking me.' I thought about the lack of wisdom in this phrase. There are two problems: the first is that it can lead us to pass on the blame, as though it wasn't in fact we ourselves who did this, but 'the enemy'; the second is that it rather seems to want to say that we, in our natures, are not sinful—that this has to come from an exterior force.

Passing on the blame is something that has always been part of human sinfulness (Genesis 3:12-13), and we have become very good at it. As I sat there in chapel, thinking about my own sins/sinfulness, I felt myself saying: 'It was I, Lord. It was I.' I don't believe that the 'devil'—whatever the devil in reality is—makes us do things as though we really don't want to do them. After all, when it comes down to 'nuts and bolts' we do want to do these things—though morally we might not want to do them. You see, I don't think that we are either puppets to God or to the devil. What I do think is an important truth though is that sin leaves us in a prison. It is not God who puts us there: it is the enemy who locks us into the cages of our own sinfulness and tries to tell us that we cannot come to God. Even some of our own Church traditions make us feel as though we cannot come to God until we're 'right with God'. I began to think back to the parable of the prodigal son and I began to picture not 'the son' (or 'me' or 'you') trapped in our own degradation but rather I saw the Father leaning on the outermost fence of his property looking out into the distance with longing, with tears running down his cheeks, mouthing into the distance "Come on home, son! Come on home!" just hoping that 'the son' (or 'me' or 'you') would hear and come home and that was why he ran. Then I went back to think about the prison and I then picture Jesus coming with the key to our cages, opening them and then leading us by the hand.

Then, at Morning Prayer, the New Testament reading was Galatians 3:23-4:7: 'Now before faith came, we were held captive under the law, imprisoned until the coming faith would be revealed.' (Galatians 3:23 ESV)

And so I have a little hope. I know that I can come to God, and I have hope that my life can be transformed by him. And as I look out of the window of my study, these words come back to me: 'wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.' (Psalm 51:7b ESV) As the snow begins to cover the ground here in Cambridge, I have hope and—what is more—faith.

Sermon for Evensong – Trinity Hall Chapel (31/01/10)

2010-02-01T07:00:00.001Z

'Saints to celebrate': Simeon and Anna.

Isaiah 40:21-31; Luke 2:22-38

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

How does one choose a saint to talk about at Evensong in Trinity Hall chapel?

This was a question that troubled me for quite a long time when Jeremy invited me to preach a sermon this term on 'Saints to celebrate'.

For some people this choice is made much easier if they already have a long-standing devotion or affinity to a particular saint.

Apart from the Blessed Virgin Mary, I don't have a devotion to a particular saint but I have increasingly come to see the importance of the saints, and found great comfort and encouragement in their life stories—even if some of them have become somewhat romanticized.

Before I go on to talk about the saints I have chosen for this evening, I would like—if you will indulge me—to share a couple of stories.

Two weeks ago, I made a real effort to come to Evensong to see how Jeremy would start off the series this term. He said in his sermon: 'I suspect for most of us there are people who have been really significant models for us in the past, and are so perhaps even now'.

This sentence really struck me, and it made me think back to when I was growing up in Bristol.

There was a man at the Church I went to, whose name is Roy, who must now be in his 80s I would guess.

There was something about him that really made me look up to him.

He had this lovely deep voice, with a beautiful, slow way of speaking that was somehow very comforting and reassuring and I am sure that there was a part of me that wondered whether he was actually an angel or something.

I remember that he had the most beautiful handwriting that I had ever seen and I would try—again and again—to copy his style of handwriting, but, alas, the spiders would not desist from crawling across the paper in front of me.

One of the things I remember most about him was that if ever anything went wrong or something bad happened, he would just say in his wonderful way, "Oh well. There it is."

The sense of peace that seemed to flow from him was something that still inspires me to this day.

My second brief story comes from when I had left home and was living in Lancaster, suffering with depression.

I had 'dropped out'—for want of a better phrase—from University and was wondering where my life was going.

I had this habit of going for midnight walks and I would go and sit on a bench outside this church in Lancaster. The bench looked out over Morecambe Bay and it was a very peaceful place.

The church itself sits next to Lancaster Castle. Five years later, this church eventually became the place where my vocation was nurtured and where I got married.

So there I was surrounded by these incredibly solid and old buildings and although I wasn't yet all that comfortable with talking about saints at that time, being at that time in a tradition that was very suspicious of talking about saints, I couldn't help but feel comforted by the thought of all the thousands, or millions, of people who had prayed in that Church and who, perhaps like me, had sat on the same bench with the same view asking the same questions.

It felt as though these people were looking down from heaven saying, "Go on Matthew! You can do it!"

As Jeremy said: 'What matters for now is simply to note that the mentors of the past, the friends and mentors in faith whose influence touched so many people in their own lifetimes, reach out across the centuries to inspire and guide and lead us in so many ways even today.'

This, I hope sets a context, in which to move onto the saints that I have chosen: Simeon and Anna, whose story we remember at Candlemas, the story of the presentation of Christ in the temple.

The words of Simeon have always been very precious to me.

When I was a teenager, I used to love singing in the choir at Evensong and loved the point at which we sang the Nunc Dimittis.

There was a sense in which those words rang true for us in my Church as they did for Simeon.

It was as though I thought to myself, "Ok, I have come; I have sung; I have heard the readings and now you let me go in peace."

When I hear this passage from Luke's gospel read, I always picture my friend Roy and imagine him saying it, and I imagine him, when he comes to the end of his days, saying "Oh well. There it is," and going on to recite the Nunc Dimittis.

We all come to the stories in Scripture with such pictures and memories.

Alongside Simeon in the story of the presentation of Christ we have Anna.

Like most women in the Bible, we don't really get to hear her words. But somebody was rude enough to ask her age: she is 84.

And she has spent the majority of her life as a widow, devoting all of her days to prayer and fasting in the temple.

The thing about people who devote their whole lives to prayer and fasting is that they very often see things that the rest of us miss, and often have a very sharp insight into things.

Funnily enough, we don't actually get Simeon's age, but I imagine that he was fairly old, having been told that he would not die before he saw the Messiah. Having now seen him, he is dismissed in peace, we assume to depart this life. I always think that he knew that his days were nearly over and now he was content to depart.

The first thing that struck me in my reading of this story for this sermon was the idea of waiting.

The Greek work 'προσδέχομαι' occurs twice in this passage from S. Luke's gospel and is translated as 'looking forward to', 'looking for' and in some translations 'waiting for'.

Simeon was waiting for the consolation of Israel and Anna spoke about the child to all who were waiting for the redemption of Israel.

It is the same Greek word in both of these verses but a more literal interpretation would be 'receiving to oneself'.

In these verses, it has the idea of waiting with open hands for something that you know will come.

It is about expectancy: waiting, knowing that something will definitely come, even if you don't know when. It is about always being ready, and waiting for it with open hands, and continuing to wait, even if it seems that it is all taking a long time.

The second thing that struck me was that we have, to a large extent, lost the ability to wait.

It doesn't seem like that long ago that if you ordered something from a catalogue you would normally expect to wait 28 days.

But now, when I order books from Amazon, as I am sure we probably all do, I usually expect now that they will arrive the next day or the day after—and I start to get irritated if it still hasn't come on the third day.

We seem to run on such strict timetables.

Everything has to be quick.

We like fast food, fast shopping; we hate waiting for busses, and we start checking our watches if somebody we have invited round doesn't arrive exactly when we were expecting them to, and we start to doubt and wonder whether everything is ok.

Even now, you might well be looking at your watches and starting to think, "I wish he would just get on with it so we can get on with our essays."

We don't like waiting and the longer we have to wait, the harder we find it—especially if what we are waiting for is really important to us.

Before I started at college to train to be a priest, I went to a Bishops' Advisory Panel, or 'selection conference' as they used to be known, to be interviewed by some people who would then tell my Bishop whether they thought I was suitable to be trained.

The wait to hear the recommendation was torture.

You normally have to wait about two weeks to know whether the advisors think that you should be allowed to train for ministry.

It's a bit like when you take exams: you have to wait for what seems like an eternity to find out how you have done, which may change your life for ever.

These are two different kinds of waiting though.

The first—waiting for books, for example—is just waiting for something that you want; the other is waiting for something that will impact the rest of your life and perhaps change the course of events for ever.

When Simeon said "Now you are dismissing your servant in peace", his life had been changed for ever.

In the same way, when we truly give our lives to God, our lives can be transformed for ever. If you had said to me ten years ago that I would be training to be a priest, for example, I probably wouldn't have believed you.

With Anna, there is a clearer sense that this had been a long wait. We are not all that sure what she was waiting for, but she was a woman who was prepared to put in the time to seek God, with her eyes and hands open.

And so I wonder, in our own journeys of faith, how good we are at waiting. Or are we always seeking the quick fixes.

The third thing that struck me was that this was probably just a normal day in the lives of Simeon and Anna.

We get a hint that Simeon was guided by the Holy Spirit, but this may have been nothing more than a feeling that he just ought to go to the Temple that day.

Anna, on the other hand, never left the temple according to this passage. We have no suggestion that she was waiting for anything.

Why was this day special? Somehow I doubt very much that there was a big poster outside the Temple that said: TODAY: THE MESSIAH IS PRESENTED IN THE TEMPLE, like the board outside the church in The Simpsons. It would be really good if I could do an impression of Rev'd Lovejoy now, but I can't.

How often do we read this story with the idea that somehow everybody should have known that this child was the Messiah?

Surely, to those in the temple this was just a normal day! But, for two people at least—as well as Mary and Joseph—something different ended up happening when this baby arrived.

An old man says that he has now seen all that he hoped to see and is content to depart and an old woman—the devout type who is just always there—begins to praise God and make a fuss over this child, far above the normal cooing that one might expect.

How often do we expect the answers to come according to our terms and in ways that fit in with our timetables and how often are we prepared, day in and day out, to make time to try to discern the purposes of God?

Jesus himself says, as recorded in the Gospels, "Those who seek—and go on seeking—will find." We often interpret this verse as a kind of 'if you seek once' but the Greek verb has more the sense of 'those who continually seek'.

This isn't just a cursory poking your head round a door to see if anybody is in the room: this is the willingness to sit in the room and wait even if it appears that nothing is happening.

If we are seeking the presence of God and seeking God's guidance, we must allow this all to happen in God's time, not ours.

Sometimes we may even have to lay down our own wishes, desires and timeframe in order to accept that which God wishes to give us.

I asked for the Isaiah reading tonight deliberately because of the final verse.

The passage read tonight very firmly establishes the sovereignty of God and ends with the idea of 'waiting for the Lord'.

The imagery of the Hebrew verb 'קָוָה'—translated as wait in most English translations—has some interesting meanings.

My Hebrew lexicon suggests that the probable origin of this word was to twist or to stretch, and then of tension and of enduring. It also says that there is an Arabic word related to it that, as a noun, means strength or a strand of rope.

The imagery is of being bound together with God as strands of one rope.

A single strand is fairly weak and vulnerable, but as soon as it is bound together with the other strands to form a rope, it becomes incredibly strong.

It is also then inseparable from the others—its identity is no longer as a single strand but as this strong rope.

I think that the imagery in this verse may well be of those who are so bound up with God as to be inseparable from him.

But of course, this can be a long process, and one that can be rather painful as we, as strands of the rope, are twisted and stretched.

Nevertheless, it is in doing this that we will find the strength to rise up like eagles, to run and not grow faint,

And so I look to Simeon and Anna, and to my friend Roy, as friends in the faith or 'soul friends'.

Their stories and their examples have very much made me who I am today; and I would probably not be where I am today without them.

And so as we hold Simeon and Anna in our consciousness, may God grant us the patience to wait as they waited, that we might more deeply discover the presence of God and have eyes to perceive what God might be doing on just another, normal day.

Amen.

Advent 1 Evening sermon

2009-11-29T16:53:00.001Z

Advent 1—Evensong and Benediction, Little S. Mary's, Cambridge

Readings: Joel 3:9-end; Revelation 14:13-15:4

As Fr Andrew said in his sermon this morning, it is very easy to get drawn into the hype and sentimentality of Advent—or rather not so much 'Advent' but more 'Winter Wonderland'. But our readings this morning were of the kind that gives us a good deal of hope, that if we trust God and keep watch, we will not be disappointed at the end. This evening, the readings seem much less easy to read on first contact. Images of roots springing up to bring deliverance are not found, nor are encouraging writings from S. Paul. There isn't much looking forward to pleasant images of the non-threatening baby Jesus that we all like to coo over, whilst enjoying that lovely warn sensation that goes with it—or perhaps that is that one sherry too many. Here is judgement executed in the last days: those who have gone against the Lord punished. Such imagery can be offensive to our modern, mostly liberal and tolerant ears. "We don't like to talk about such things," we might say. I certainly would rather not be faced with such readings when I am preparing a sermon! We don't really have this choice though and the 'recovering evangelical' in me is unable to completely disregard the lections for this evening in order to speak about something altogether more pleasant.

The prophecy of Joel comes when the people of Judah, who had been taken into exile, were allowed to return to their homeland. Imagine the experience of exile: being conquered by a foreign nation, ripped from homes, taken away. Picture the violence, even hatred that leads one nation to conquer another and try to take away its own identity. Think about the violence of language used in 2 Kings 18 when the people of Judah are told that they will have to 'eat their own dung' and 'drink their own urine'. Hear these passages with the mindset of an oppressed and downtrodden people.

The imagery of our two passages is that of war. Imagery of war and violence is not something completely new and foreign. The nations are told to prepare for war: or 'make holy' in the Hebrew. This is no ordinary preparation: this is no ordinary war. This has the sense of a holy war, the scale of which is so great that they will need to beat their ploughshares into swords and their pruning hooks into spears. They will need all the weapons that they can get hold of. This is a reversal of the prophecy of Isaiah in which swords are beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks, which was written before Joel's prophecy. There is a message of hope in Isaiah, that there will be, for the people of Judah, peace and safety but this is now contrasted with the fate of the nations who will be engaged in this holy war, in which the Lord will exact vengeance 'for the violence done to the people of Judah'. The victory of the Lord is total, with the image of a harvest being used. When a field is harvested, everything is cut up and taken away—nothing is left. The nations are told to beat their pruning hooks into spears but the people of the Lord are told to beat their spears into pruning hooks.

Our reading from Revelation takes up this prophecy in its imagery. Here it is Christ—one like a son of man—who holds the sickle, as well as the angelic beings. To a people who, at various stages, were undergoing persecution, this was a message of hope. Christ would, as they believed, return soon and repay all their sufferings and exact his vengeance. They would be left praising God without fear, without pain and without fear of death. Though they were suffering, the day of the Lord would come. We are faced with the idea of two distinct groups of people: one for whom this means peace and safety and one for whom this means punishment and destruction.

All of this is a long way from sickly-sweet advent calendars, the counting down to Christmas. All of this is a long way from the nativity plays that deep down, though I hate to admit it, I enjoy because they bring back all these memories of childhood innocence—with the twee sound of children's choirs singing Away in a Manger and other such delights. It is all too easy for us to seek to romanticise and sanitise the story without really engaging with the darkness and the mess: to make God the sweet little baby in a manger that we can somehow contain and control: a safe God who, at this point at least, will not interfere too much in our lives, because we like to hold onto the belief that somehow, we are still in charge. But this is no romantic or sentimental story. This is a story of occupation, being forced to—if Luke's account is accurate—make a long journey to your place of origin to be counted on a piece of paper: a number, a statistic. This is a story of wandering around as you go into labour seeking a place to give birth only to have all the doors closed in your face—alone and rejected. This is a story of the agony of childbirth—not in a sanitised room with expert medical staff at hand. This is a story of birth surrounded by mess, filth, being reduced to the status of animals, having nowhere to place your baby but in a feeding trough. But this is also a story of the filth, the rejection being sanctified—the word becoming flesh and dwelling among us.

This is the story of just how far God was willing to go to demonstrate his love towards us—meeting us in the very real and actual mess and also meeting us in the darkness of our fallenness and brokenness. This is the story of God becoming what we are that we might become like him. God came to that which was his own but his own 'knew him not'. As is so often the case, we are blind to the truth and we fail to recognise the presence and working of God. All this God has done to redeem us from our captivity—to set us free: 'free to worship him without fear, holy and righteous in his sight, all the days of our life'.

The judgement and vengeance that we read of in Joel and Revelation is, at heart, not so much about believing in Jesus Christ per se or being amongst the elect—an 'us and them' mentality: it is much more about judgement against injustice. It is judgement against those who live and work contrary to what God has decreed and himself done. The covenant is an inclusive one: it was never an exclusive one. God said to Abram in Genesis 12 that in Abram 'all the families of the earth will be blessed'. In the Nunc Dimittis, the salvation of God was to be a 'light to lighten the gentiles' and 'the glory of thy people Israel'. Jesus is the crowning glory of God's chosen people and a light to all nations: the climax of the story of God's dealing with humanity. The judgement prophesied in Joel and Revelation is a judgement against those who have reversed, or attempted to reverse, what God has done for his people. God sets a people free, and his judgement is pronounced against those who then oppress or persecute them.

These passages are not meant to lead us into a type of triumphalism that says 'we're saved: you're condemned'. The judgements, if we bear in mind the contexts of exile and persecution, are against those who work contrary to God's plan for humanity. It is also a challenge to us: how often do we act, speak or think in ways that are contrary to God's plan? Advent is a penitential season: a time for reassessing our lives and coming back to God before the big celebration of Christmas—the celebration of what God has done for us. We have been called to be a holy people: witnesses to the light of Christ, but how often do our lives live up to that? Now is the time to come back to the Lord.

It is most fitting that we finish this service with Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. Advent is about readjusting our lives, and putting Christ back in the centre. As we kneel before the Blessed Sacrament, remember Christ coming to meet us in this world, in all the filth and darkness. See him exalted on the altar and reflect upon the glory that is now his with the Father and the Holy Spirit. Above all, allow this light to shine into our hearts to illumine all of our darkness, in all humility and love; and let us all go in peace to love and serve the Lord, living according to his plans, that on the last day, we may be free to worship him with all the company of heaven.

Amen.

Christ the King Sermon

2009-11-26T21:49:00.002Z

Sermon for Mass—Trinity Hall Chapel

The feast of Christ the King—22^nd November 2009
Readings: Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; Psalm 93; Revelation 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37

We have now arrived at the last Sunday of the Liturgical Year, on which the Church observes the feast of Christ the King. Next week we move into a new liturgical year: beginning with the period known as Advent, when we both prepare to celebrate the Incarnation of Our Lord, and also think about his Second Coming. Having celebrated the feast of All Saints—all those who have gone before us in the faith—we now, at the end of the year, acclaim Christ as King. This marks the completion of the story of Christ. He is now risen, ascended and glorified.

Our first two readings provide us with two different visions: one of the prophet Daniel in Babylon, and one of S. John on the isle of Patmos. Our Gospel reading from S. John's Gospel recalls part of Our Lord's encounter with Pontius Pilate before he was handed over to be crucified. We are probably fairly familiar with the passages, but sometimes our familiarity with passages and different biblical pictures can preclude us from seeing the real point, or from allowing ourselves to think outside of what we already think we know. Somehow, biblical texts and images become so separated from their original contexts and times that we fail to see the original point or intention of them.

Daniel was one of the many Israelites taken into exile to Babylon. It is here that we have the two famous accounts of the fiery furnace and the lions' den. We are probably fairly used to the reading that we have heard this morning: a favourite among Christian preachers I have known and interpreted as a messianic prophecy. They like to use it to prove that the Hebrew Scriptures point towards Jesus. Now, I am not saying that they are wrong because I do think that this is a messianic prophecy. But, the danger we often walk into is thinking that this is a prophecy about Jesus and that is all we need to know. What of the context?

Can you imagine what it feels like to be taken into exile? Can you imagine being ripped from your homes, your villages and towns and transported miles away to a foreign land? Everything that you knew and loved of home is now gone and you are now in a place where everything is strange and you don't understand what is going on. You had always been taught to think of yourselves as the chosen people of God, and that God himself had given you the land that you lived in. You believed yourself to be his chosen people, but now look at you! Where has this god gone? Was any of it real? Everything you had been brought up to believe is now being challenged by this experience. You feel lonely and abandoned and wonder if anybody cares for you. Your god has been defeated and has become powerless to you, because you cannot see how the god you believed in can still be working as he seemed to work for your ancestors.

Now, hear the words from Daniel again: 'As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne… I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven…to him was given dominion and glory and kingship… His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away.' Can you imagine what it must have felt like to hear these words when they were first uttered? God, who seemed to have been defeated, is in fact highly exalted and his kingdom is declared to be an everlasting kingdom. Surely, this means that you can start to believe again that somewhere, somehow God is in control and will not utterly forsake you!

Now let us go to the 'revelation of Jesus Christ…to …John'. If we go to the verse following the verses that we read this morning, John says, 'I, John, your brother who share with you in Jesus the persecution.' Again, our verses read this morning speak into a context of persecution. You have accepted Jesus Christ as Lord, you have 'given your life' to Christ: you are a part of the Church. You have accepted the Gospel. However, people who believe with you are being arrested, tortured and killed for belonging to the faith you proclaim. If you read accounts of the early martyrdoms, some of the things that these people go through were awful: skinned alive, roasted on a spit alive, red hot metal plates placed at the most 'tender' parts of the body. Although Jesus warned of trials and persecutions, you might be beginning to wonder if it is, in fact, all true. The more zealous of you embrace death, speaking of suffering as Christ suffered, and seeming to suggest that they felt closer to him somehow. But surely God wouldn't allow the people who love him to endure such suffering! Surely God could stop this from happening and give you some safety in which to try to follow Christ!

Hear the words again: 'He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail… "I am the Alpha and the Omega", says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.' Surely the Lord has seen your sufferings and knows what you are going through! He sees and he is coming and all those who persecute you will wail, but you will rejoice for you Lord has returned to take you to the Father. Hallelujah!

Finally to our Gospel: Pilate asks Jesus, "Are you the King of the Jews?" It is Jesus' reply that I wish to focus on for a few moments. The NRSV reads: 'Do you ask this on your own…?' The Greek here reads: 'Ἀπὸ σεαυτοῦ σὺ τοῦτο λέγεις;' I read this as a question that goes, literally: "from yourself you this say?" Any Greek scholars among you may feel free to challenge this interpretation after this service. To me, it is as though Jesus can see right through to Pilate's heart, and cuts right to the chase. It is surely a rhetorical question. When I read in the Gospels of Pilate, I rather think that, actually, he did everything he could to try to realise Jesus but in the end was too scared of the mob. I wonder whether he believed in Jesus and saw something of the Divine in him. I love this scene in the Passion of the Christ, when Jesus suddenly switches to Latin to speak to Pilate. I rather think that Jesus saw into his heart and was challenging him. "Have you, yourself, come to this conclusion?" The translations are fascinating:
NRSV: 'Do you ask this on your own…?'
KJV: 'Sayest thou this thing of thyself…?
NIV: 'Is that your own idea…?'
REB: 'Is that your own question…?
The NIV and REB seem to have come to the same conclusion as me. How much of what we say and sing in Church or in our own private prayer lives are 'of ourselves' and how much 'from others'?

Now, we may not have been carried away into exile or enduring hard persecutions, but sometimes the experience of study, particularly in such a prestigious place as this or 'another place' can leave us wondering where God is. We can feel rather lost and alone: stressed certainly, depressed perhaps. We, like Daniel and John on Patmos, may be dealing with very similar questions. Allow their words to speak into your hearts and lift your faith, and when we speak of Jesus, Christ as King, let these words be truly 'of ourselves'.

Amen.

My wife—not we, but she—is pregnant.

2009-11-06T20:00:00.002Z

I can now formally and publicly announce that my wife is 12½ weeks pregnant. I have been so eager to blog about it but have tried hard (and succeeded) to heed the advice of not being too public before 12 weeks. We had already told much of our families, some close friends and quite a few people here at Westcott House, partly because we wanted some people to be 'in the loop' should anything go wrong.

It has been quite a scary time, I think. Every time that Toni rang me when I wasn't expecting a call, I assumed the worst and started to panic. I have never prayed so fervently about a single thing, which I found interesting. Now I am so relieved that we have got to the twelve week watershed. I feel that I can relax quite a lot.

I have been thinking about a few things. One of them is the realisation that we are all absolutely helpless before the fundamental issues of life and death. Nothing we can do can guarantee that our child will survive. Of course we can do things that will help the healthy growth of our baby but we cannot really assume anything. That reality really came home to me during these last twelve weeks. All life comes from God: that 'spark' (for want of a better word) that sets all the organs, lumps of meat that they are, in motion. This has made me more committed to continually praying for the life of our baby and giving thanks for each day that I wake up alive.

Going to the hospital for the scan was a nerve-racking experience. Would the baby be ok? Would they find some problem? I really didn't know what to expect or how I would react. I rather thought that I would be overcome with emotion, and perhaps a little (joyfully) tearful. However, when we went into the room for the scan, the stenographer put the scanner thing on Toni's abdomen and immediately a crystal-clear image of our leanbh beag [pron. lya-noo bag—Irish for 'little child'—the nickname I seem to have adopted for our baby] appeared on our screen. Legs and arms moving seemingly excitedly. Was he/she aware of what was going on? Was he/she as excited to be seen as we were to see? I guess we will never know. When the image appeared, I simply took in a huge gasp of air—the kind that a leanbh beag makes when something unexpected but immensely exciting or pleasurable happens.

Now, I look at this image that I have of our leanbh beag and stare in wonder at the life that my wife and I together have long willed, and God created and thus far sustained, and give thanks to God, who gives life—a precious gift that cannot be valued.

Oh, and by the way, I hate all this talk of 'we are pregnant'—what a load of trendy bull! She is pregnant and I have largely felt like a stranger to the whole thing. Nothing has changed for me in the way it has for Toni—that is, until I saw my leanbh beag moving on screen! Now I get the feeling that nothing will be the same again!

Anyone going to Rome? or Where is the love?

2009-10-31T18:39:00.003Z

Much attention seems to have been given to the invitation of the Pope to Anglican priests to come into the fold of the Roman Catholic Church.

As somebody who tends to identify myself as Anglo-Catholic, it has been interesting to think about the invitation from a Catholic perspective. Being an ordinand in a college which, though it has always striven to avoid labels, tends to be placed in the 'liberal Catholic' category can be an interesting experience. I came here because I felt that it would be healthy to be in a more broad and diverse atmosphere than somewhere which might be 'more my cup of tea'. I have no shadow of a doubt that I am in the right place but I often find myself frustrated with some of the thinking of this place and have found myself becoming more and more 'conservative'—at least in the eyes of the liberals. I think that it has just exposed that which was already there under the surface.

You see, I don't like much of the more liberal side of the Church. I, so far, have agreed with the ordination of women. The issue of the consecration of women to the episcopate is a much more complicated issue as far as the Church is concerned, and in terms of what it could end up doing to the Church. All this liberal nonsense about inclusion, equality and justice completely misses the point. They don't, as I see it, seem to realise that it is about much greater issues than these: it is about the being and shape of the Church—not whatever trendy nonsense they wish to bring about and make normative in the Church.

If Ignatius of Antioch envisaged the Church gathered around one bishop and Clement rebukes those who do not accept the ministry of their bishops/elders [and are right in doing so], this was for the preservation and healthy life of the Church. It may not have been what everybody liked but it was [perhaps] for the greater good. No traditionalist that I have talked to sees questions of women's ordination/consecration in term of inclusion/exclusion or justice/injustice or equality/inequality. It is, surely, rather about the nature of the Church and the ordained ministry and the distinctive roles of men and women. It is not so much about deliberately excluding women from ministry as it is about seeing the ordained ministry as a distinctively male role and believing that the roles of women are different. I can't abide the liberal arrogance that so belittles the traditionalist part of the Church with crass questions of exclusion, sexism etc.

The ordination of women to the priesthood was, as we all know, a contentious issue and structures were put in place for those who could not accept their ordination or ministry. After all, such people had faithfully served the Church for years and why should they be utterly excluded by a Church that has decided to do something which was not with unanimous agreement? The potential future consecration of women to the episcopate will only exacerbate this division and will, inevitably rip the Church in two. Can people not see how and why those of a more traditionalist theology/ecclesiology would feel utterly betrayed by the Church that they have loved and served. So much of the rhetoric seems to be about going ahead with this and 'if people don't like it then they can leave': it doesn't show much love, grace and humility.

My ecclesiology says that I should trust the structures of my Church (i.e. Synod, Bishops' Advisors etc.) and trust that the Holy Spirit is working through them but I have begun to wonder whether it is less about discerning the way forward that the Holy Spirit is leading us into, and more about whose shouting is louder and whose rhetoric persuades better (on both sides of the debate). Is democracy really an effective way of discerning the will of the Holy Spirit? How representative is the membership of the General Synod?

Don't misunderstand me, I am for the ordination of women, and I think I am nearly (at least in theory) in favour of the consecration of women to the episcopate. For me, it is not about whether they are men or women but about the calling and equipping of the Holy Spirit. As an ordinand in training, after years of being sure that I was being called and wondering why the Church wasn't as sure, I am now part of the way through my second year of three and now not quite so sure about my vocation but trust that God has me in the right place, training alongside men and women. I have begun to recognise that none of us are worthy or deserving of this ministry but we are all broken, sinful people just trying to follow obediently as we discern the Holy Spirit leading us. Of course, I am in the fortunate position of nobody challenging whether or not I can or should be ordained, though only a couple of decades ago I might not have been allowed to train because of inadequate education or being from the wrong stratum of society! What I am fed up of is a distinct lack of grace and love in much of the rhetoric: we seem to be vilifying each other, caricaturing each other and seeking our own will in the Church. Where is the love and grace? Where is the inclusion, which the liberals never cease to go on about, when it comes to listening to the traditionalist voices?

In my view, I don't blame any of the more traditionalist catholic part of the CofE who feel that they have no choice but to accept the invitation of the Holy Father, and I wish them well and that God may continue to bless them and lead them in their ministry. As for me, I will continue where I am and pray that we might find a way, within the Church of England, to listen to each other with love, grace and humility praying first and foremost for myself that such characteristics might be more and more found in me. I know that I have a long way to go but is it that impossible that we might begin to lay down our own agendas and seek the unity of the Church that Our Lord prayed for?

The way blogs work

2009-10-17T18:15:00.001+01:00

Having just posted about not having written for two months, I decided that I would check Google Analytics—which tells me who has visited my blog, when and what they read—and found out that only three times in the last three months has nobody visited my blog.

What really surprises me is that people are still reading things that I posted two years ago: namely about the experience of going to a Bishops' Advisory Panel and a criticism of UCCF—which I stand by, by the way, even though they are easy pickings. I guess that I always assumed that people would find my blog and follow it to keep updated with what's going on—when I bother to update it—but it appears that people also do random searches which keeps up the interest in things that I wrote two years ago.

So whoever you are, thanks for dropping in and do keep coming back and leaving comments if you'd like to.

…2 months on…

2009-10-17T17:59:00.002+01:00

It has been two months since I last wrote anything on this blog. I keep thinking that I ought to do it but never quite get round to it. I am sure that many of you will be able to relate to this situation. Good intentions and all that…

This last week has been interesting: I came down with something that had all the hallmarks of 'swine flu'. I had had a cold for a little while, which is perfectly normal for this time of year in a place like Cambridge when all the students arrive. Suddenly, on Tuesday night, my temperature went over 38° and so I consulted the pandemic website and found that I had some of the symptoms of swine flu. The fever itself only lasted a couple of days altogether and since then it has just been a case of a tight chest and cough. Coughs tend to outlive colds/flus anyway so I am not unduly worrying about the coughing but, of course, am making an effort to make sure that I cover my coughs and sneezes.

The second year at Westcott has started. Everybody has arrived and we are now 3 full weeks in. I am slightly surprised at the difference in the way it feels being a second year. I have even so far—flu aside—managed to spend time in the library doing reading but ended up in quarantine for the supervision I was reading for. Still, I am hoping that now that pattern of working will continue. I certainly appreciate the evenings more when I have spent all day working.

Anyway, I thought I had better write something as it has been two months. I hope that somebody will come back and read this. I shall attempt to develop a regular pattern of updating this blog when I have something interesting—to me at least—to say.

Do pop back soon and check!

The things people say

2009-08-12T18:36:00.001+01:00

My wife and I attended Mass at S. Bene't's Church in Cambridge last weekend. After the service, we were having coffee and talking to our neighbour and his wife when a lady from the Church came to speak to us. She started speaking about something that sounded a lot like a student meal that they do and proceeded to take my neighbour's and my wife's e-mail addresses, but not his wife's or mine – presumably assuming that we weren't students. Anyway, she then went on to say that she would contact them by e-mail but that she is normally around at the Church on Sundays but that she is 'a bit irrational in the summer'. I resisted the urge to laugh and reply with 'Just the summer, madam?'

It is a healthy sign, I think, that somebody in the parish wants to welcome people who they assume are students, but that is one conversation that I shall not forget.

At the start of the summer holidays

2009-06-25T18:37:00.003+01:00

Well, I have done an absolutely rubbish job of keeping this blog regularly updated during my first year at Westcott House. I hope that those of you who follow my blog faithfully will forgive me. As I am sure you will appreciate, theological college is a busy, hectic and frantic old time that leaves little energy or motivation for self-indulgent blogging.

This first year has brought many changes. One of the things that Westcott House is very good at stressing when you arrive is that sense of letting go. When I arrived and first heard people talking about this, I just kind of thought, "Yeah, yeah, of course we have let go – it is obvious." However, it is such a truth that has taken nearly this whole last year to even begin to sink in. At my 'sending parish', I served every week even being head server for the last few months. I preached once a month and led Choral Evensong. In a lot of ways, I felt as though I had a lot of things under my belt. When I arrived at College with a community of 84 ordinands (at the start of the year) plus their partners and children, suddenly I was just a small drop in a big ocean again. Then I began a parish attachment and preached just once a term and received a lot more feedback on the sermons and felt as though everything I had done before meant nothing anymore. This is not really what people said to me but just a reflection of the way that such experiences made me feel. The letting go really was a painful process; it is one in which we completely lay down who we have been and what we have done and attempt to concentrate on the people that we are becoming. As somebody here said, it is the move from private to public Christian. If I am honest, I think that perhaps I was a bit too arrogant to listen to many people around me. The letting go is not trying to pretend that nothing that went before has shaped you or been important to you but rather is recognising that in arriving at theological college a whole new different stage of the journey is beginning. In attending classes on preaching, we are not being told that any preaching we did before is irrelevant or rubbish but rather we are being encouraged to look at things from a different perspective and learn from each other. One of the greatest experiences of this year for me was being part of a small group who wrote sermons and preached them to each other and gave each other feedback. I found that I learnt such a lot and we really got to know each other a little more.

One of the big temptations when you arrive at theological college is to set up camp as it were and divide yourselves into separate camps who all squabble with each other. This, I believe, is just human nature but it is not helpful at college. It was as though I said to myself, "Right! I am going to be a Catholic and live in the Catholic camp and anybody who doesn't agree is wrong!" I even found myself sitting in the same part of chapel for a long time. I found that I had to start to sit in different places with different people to try to free myself from this and I found that the experience was very valuable. Although I am still as Catholic as I was when I arrived, if not more so(!), I have started to see the merit of not setting up camp too firmly with all the borders and walls that can go with that. If anything, I am learning the value of relaxing and just being myself. I am who I am with certain things that I believe, and most people can tell these things, but the experience of college is a lot richer when a certain loosing of the boundaries is achieved. It is not compromise or pretending that that which is important to you is not: it is rather a willingness to learn and be challenged. Of course, there are lots of disagreements but these must be seen to enrich rather than threaten.

Well, here are just two reflections from this last year. If I think of anything else important, I shall add them.

End of year 1

2009-06-10T20:00:00.001+01:00

Well, I have finally got to the end of my first year. I am more than happy with a 67.6% average, which is a strong 2:1 with which to qualify for entry to the University of Cambridge. My Hebrew mark helped immensely. One surprise was that the paper that I expected to be my weakest was, aside from the Hebrew, in fact my strongest at 68%. It seems rather strange now to arrive at the end of the year with no more study to do. It would seem that we all have done well, which is very pleasing.

Now, I face the summer holidays.

Two terms gone!

2009-03-28T18:27:00.003Z

Well, I have now arrived at the Easter holidays with a couple of essays to write and lots of revision to be started. It sometimes feels as though there is no time to breathe! Ah well! Nobody forced me to train for ministry I suppose.

The main question that I am asking myself (and God) is this: what is the thing that most shapes a person for ministry? Is it study? Is it the various times of prayer? It is visiting an old couple from the parish to which I am attached? Is it sitting in the beautiful garden here at Westcott House chatting to other ordinands and reflecting on various theological issues? I have been tempted recently to think that the prayer and conversation has to be more important, but I have realised that it is wrong to separate everything like that. What forms us in ministry, and in life as Christians, is the whole picture, and this applies not just to ministerial formation but to life as Christians, and even further just as humans. The crux of the matter is the balance: balancing prayer and study, work and rest. Even if there is an essay to be handed in tomorrow, or at the end of the week, sometimes we do just need to allow ourselves to have ten minutes off, or even an hour or two to have a cup of tea with somebody. Do we allow ourselves to have rest? Do we make ourselves sit down and get the work done? (Sometime the more pertinent question for me!)

As we approach the great feast of Easter, we think about new life, new hope and a new beginning. Perhaps we should all rethink where we put the balance in our lives. Instead of making excuses that we don't have time to visit somebody or to stop and have a cup of tea, perhaps we sometimes need to prioritise this. Not only might we gain new strength but we might also give that to somebody else.

As for me, the tea drinking and chatting come far too easily. This week and next week, I need to discipline myself to write about the relationship between the Enlightenment and the Evangelical Revival and also whether salvation is primarily through the being or activity of Christ, and then next term, revision and exams. Please do keep me in your prayers. Please pray also for Toni who puts up with my frustration, tantrums, and bad moods. In a lot of ways, I am so conscious of the way that I sometimes put lots of things before spending time with Toni. It is with an ironic grin that I tell you that I have been elected to be one of the partners' reps here at Westcott.

Sermon at St James’ 8/2/09

2009-02-18T14:26:00.001Z

Isaiah 40:21-31

1 Corinthians 9:16-23

Mark 1:29-39

The Importance of Knowing

When I was young I was, and still am, absolutely obsessed with nature programmes, and I was a huge fan of Bill Oddie. In 1988, I went with my mum, brother and grandparents to the ITV Telethon event: I don't know if you remember them. Anyway, we all went and there were absolutely hundreds of people there. As I remember it, we were just about to go home when all at once I did espy the man himself – Bill Oddie! I simply had to go over and say hello and ask for his autograph. After all, he was such a lovely man on telly. I was absolutely sure that at that point, he wanted nothing more in the world than to sign a 9 year old boy's scrap of paper. And so I went in pursuit of one of my heroes, and then he looked and said two words: the second of which I believe was 'hell'. I was slightly crushed of course, but I did get that signature, and in a way typical of most 9 year olds I lost it within an hour of getting home. Now, I am sure that really Mr Oddie is a nice man but of course it didn't occur to me that he might be tired after a long day and want to go home for that glass of wine, or whatever else he likes to drink. The point is that the picture I had built up of him was based on a few TV programmes and in real life he was just a normal man. My opinion of him was not based on knowledge, but on my own assumptions. Meeting celebrities is never quite what you expect.

Last week, we celebrated Candlemas when Christ was presented in the Temple. At the heart of the story is Simeon – he had been waiting for the promised one, and I do wonder if he felt like I did when I saw Bill Oddie – except Simeon wasn't disappointed or slightly crushed. He knew that in Jesus, all his hopes had been fulfilled and we are left with that glorious canticle: the Nunc Dimittis. At the centre of the story is a man who knew and recognised Jesus: it lays out for us the importance of knowing.

Our reading from Isaiah takes up this theme: 'Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told to you from the beginning?...It is he [the Lord] who sits above the circle of the earth…who stretches out the heavens like a curtain…and makes the rulers of the earth like nothing.' God, according to the prophecy, is high and mighty, and enthroned above all things. The vision is one of the immense kingship of God. No matter what life throws at us, we can know that God is still enthroned and above all; but the prophecy does not come to a people unfamiliar with this god. The prophecy comes to a people who were the chosen ones of God. They had a whole history that spoke to them of a God who loved them, who met them in their suffering and then led them, under Moses, to freedom. Every year they would celebrate Pesach, or Passover, when they remembered how the Lord had delivered them from slavery in Egypt. They would have known the stories of the LORD and of Israel that were such a part of their identity but they found themselves captive in a foreign land. The people who had been miraculously freed from slavery now found themselves captive again. How might you have felt? Would you have started to question the traditions that had been handed down, and the festivals that had been celebrated? I think I might. How do you reconcile a vision of God with an experience that suggests another picture? What do you do when the present seems to contradict the past? In Hebrew, verse 21 literally reads:

"Do you not know? Do you not hear? Has it not been told to you from the beginning?" Do you see the contrast between the past and the present? In the rhetorical question, the prophet is saying that it has been told to you from the beginning. But now, now do you not know, now do you not hear? Let us not forget that hearing was central to the Jews of Israel: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.' The Torah told them to hear this truth about God. But if they were not hearing this, what were they hearing? Were they hearing people taunting them, saying, 'Where is now your God?' There must have been huge tensions and conflicts for the Jews. How do they hold onto their faith? And what of us? Are there times when our traditions conflict with what we experience around us? How can we sing, in the Magnificat, of God filling the hungry with good things when we are surrounded by people who do not have enough to eat or enough to live on? What is the evidence that we base our knowledge on now? The prophecy is a message of encouragement: God is still God and is still faithful even when our circumstances suggest otherwise.

So how can we come to know God in the ups and downs of 'everyday' or 'normal' life?

Our Gospel reading gives us a clue: early in the morning Jesus found a deserted place and there he prayed. He set aside time for God and he gained a new perspective: a new insight into God's purpose: he knew what he was to do next. Do we create such time and space for prayer and contemplation? And if we do, in the hard times, are we prepared to lay down our preconceptions and ideas and allow God to speak into them a message that might be surprising or even shocking to us? Sometimes, we need simply to ask for a new perspective and vision, asking God to come alongside us.

For Simon's mother in law, in our Gospel reading, Jesus came alongside her emptying himself to touch a daughter of God and make her whole, perhaps giving to her a fresh vision. Her response is to empty herself and serve. When we encounter God, when we make time and space for him, and when we are touched by him, our first response should be to lay down our own interests in love and service to God and our neighbour. Sometimes, the answer to our prayers in times of desperation and feeling lost demands such a response from us. When we come to Holy Communion, to be fed and nourished, perhaps even comforted, we need to be conscious of the words that we pray afterwards: 'Send us out in the power of your Spirit,to live and work to your praise and glory.'

Jesus spent the whole day healing and sometimes, we can spend a lot of time 'giving' to the service of other. Jesus retired to a quiet place. It is essential that we do the same. It is a cycle: we wait, we come to know, we serve, and again we wait, and so on. I'll say that again: we wait, we come to know, we serve, and again we wait.

And so, whatever we're going through, whether we are having a hard time or a good one, let us take to heart the promise of Isaiah about those who wait on the Lord. Part of the image of the Hebrew word for 'wait' is the image of a rope being twisted and bound together until the individual threads merge into the whole. Let us take time to 'wait' upon God and allow our lives to become one with God's, and may our response be to share with others and to serve.

Amen.

Single parent families, father figures and my spirituality

2009-01-20T11:40:00.004Z

I was quite surprised this morning to get my Society Guardian e-mail (which sometimes has quite interesting articles), which had as the subject header: Children from single-parent families lack a male role model. I often find myself getting rather defensive when people write articles about single parent families, or make comments because often it is clear that single parent families are seen as this big evil in society because people just don't understand. I would feel fairly confident to assert that most statements come from people who did not grow up in single parent families. Somebody made a comment here yesterday about somebody coming from a 'broken home', and thankfully I managed not to lose my temper.

The thing is that I grew up in a single parent family. I think that I was about 4 when my parents divorced and they had probably been separated for quite a long time before that. I grew up in a household that consisted of my mother, my younger brother and me. One thing that I have often said to people is that when you are very young, you are not always even aware that there is something different about your family. In a lot of people's eyes, it seems that single parent families are viewed as abnormal; but when you are growing up in one, normal, for you, is surely that to which you are accustomed. To me, being in a single parent family was normal. I think that my mother always did well at trying to make things as normal as possible. I only really felt different when I went to the house of a friend who had both parents living at home.

It was in my early teenage years that I first remember really becoming aware of the fact that I didn't have a male role model at home. To be rather sentimental about it, I remember thinking to myself that I was not sure how to become a man. My body was changing in the normal ways but what did it mean to be a man? I was quite a committed Christian and I remember at about 13 or 14 reading the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) every single day. I read about Jesus, and read his teachings and I remember thinking that I wanted to be like this man. I think that in my head it began not so much to bother me that we couldn't afford the most fashionable clothes that some of my friends had, because somewhere the teaching of our Lord about not worrying about what you will wear took root. The taunting from peers did bother me, and at root I think that what really bothered me was a sense of not belonging.

In a single parent family, you can feel as though you do not belong in so many ways. In our human existence, a man and a woman come together and have children, and then raise those children and those children go off to get together with a partner and in their turn have their children. To grow up in a house with one parent is to feel somewhat outside of this 'normal' pattern. I don't think that I was ever teased or bullied about being in a single parent family, at least not to my face but any teasing that went on about clothes, the acne that I suffered from, seemed to build on top of my fundamental sense of not belonging and sometimes amplified that sense. My dad committed suicide when I was 14 and so there was then no chance of somehow finding that male figure. I think that one of the things that I did was to retreat a little. I retreated into languages and started to teach myself languages and was very good at it. I also retreated into music. At an early age, I found that I was good at music and so my break times and lunch times would be spent in the music block playing the piano, and I became quite good. I then found that I made friends with people who also were good at music. I began to have friends and I think that these were real and genuine friendships and in most people's eyes I would perhaps have appeared as a very gregarious and sociable person, but deep down I still felt as though I didn't belong.

At University, having moved away from home, I found that a lot of my issues came to a head and I was eventually diagnosed with depression. My faith was still strong even though some would say that I was backsliding. I began to get more and more committed to the Christian Union and really felt as though I belonged there, and I was very committed to the cause. I always felt awkward about their views on mission and evangelism but hey, I belonged. With the more charismatic way of worshipping, I began to experience great joy and intensity that somehow overshadowed the brokenness that I felt inside. Perhaps I was just seeking to run away from it? Years later, I remember sitting in a Church before a service and asking God how I could relate to him as a father, not having grown up with one. I thought a little about what I would like one to be and it was as though God said to me that he would reveal himself to me in those ways, if I would let him. I couldn't up to that point begin a prayer with 'Father'. I was ok with the 'Holy Lord' or 'Sovereign God' way of beginning and I could get my head around an all-sovereign, transcendent God but couldn't relate to God as Father. Eventually, I began to realise that I had started to begin prayers with 'Father'. At about the age of 23, I began to realise that the kind of Christianity that I had been a part of was no longer where I really was, and I began to long for a more 'traditional', and 'Catholic' expression of Christianity. It took me a long time to move Churches but I did.

These days, I prefer a more contemplative and 'Catholic' version of Christianity. The idea of rootedness in history and tradition is very important. That sense of belonging to something so much greater than that which I see around me is something that I could not live without. In other, more 'contemporary' expressions of Christianity, it can just feel too 'here and now' and only scratching the surface. Having discovered in Jesus a person that I wanted to be like, and received the promise that God would reveal himself (and he has revealed himself) to me as a Father, I don't think that I feel as though I have been without a male role model. All this sounds rather lovely, and I think that I am miles away from being able to follow the example of Jesus. I love moments of silence before worship. I love going to the silent meditation in our chapel before Morning Prayer, and even just having five minutes before Mass, to sit and try to open myself to God. It is not that I think that I have been healed of some kind of brokenness of being a child of a single parent family and had all my hurts healed. I sit before God my Father, as a broken child, laying open to him all my brokenness and pain and allow him to come alongside me and help to say my prayers.

The answer is not in having or not having a male role model but in having a sense of belonging: to God, to humanity, to the inheritance of the Saints. For me, obviously my faith was a crucial part of discovering my sense of belonging. To return to the article, I don't think that the answer lies in presenting the problems of lacking male role models (much as I believe that they are important). The answer is not in saying to the child of a single parent family "How awful for you!" because this only highlights the sense of abnormality and lack of belonging. What that child needs is a sense of belonging, and help in discovering who he or she truly is, and the gift that he or she is to human society. For me, that came in my faith, and is fully realised in my vocation to be a priest. Let us not focus on what the child lacks, but on what the child has.

Catching up

2009-01-17T22:15:00.002Z

It is so easy to lose one's grip on something. For instance, I came to Cambridge intending to post regularly on my blog but it has been a fairly long time since I last wrote. It is the old classic: "I'll do it tomorrow!" So, I have only just got round to writing on here again. I have quite a number of people that I want to write letters to, but still haven't. I have lots of reading to do, and to be fair, I have been doing quite a bit of reading but I now realise that this term I am going to have to be very organised and disciplined.

Last term went well I think. Coming to theological college is a major adjustment, and it is hard to know quite how to prepare oneself for it. I have found myself thinking about things that I never thought about before, and have really begun to notice some of my rougher edges. It is interesting to note what is annoying me at any given time, and to try to reflect upon why those things annoy me. One thing that I have noticed is that we seem to spend a lot of time reflecting, analysing and getting more than a little wound up. To some extent, I have noticed that we are starting to trust each other more and some of the prejudices are gradually slipping away. I get the impression from some of the ordinands in their second and third years that our year is a very good and sociable group and one that seems quite healthy. It is not unknown for one or more of us to get rather animated when discussing some relatively insignificant detail of liturgy and Church practice, but that is surely not necessarily a problem, but rather one of the signs of an open and healthy community: that we can get wound up with each other and the following day make peace with each other.

I am starting to become quite aware of the process of being formed. When I look back over the last three or four months, I have observed that I have changed quite a lot, although I might not necessarily be able to verbalise quite how I have changed. I think that one way in which I have changed is in my consciousness: the awareness of becoming something other than that which I have been up to now, though at the same time feeling as though I am only now discovering who God created me to be. This is not, of course, to belittle everything that has gone before but rather to have a sense of fulfilment. There is also for me a sense in which I feel as though the Offices and liturgy are becoming truly a part of who I am. I suppose it might be put as a realisation of all of life being an act of prayer: not as a rather fluffy and nauseating idea, but as a reality or a state of being.

Over the last couple of weeks, we have all had to do what are called Intensive Courses and I chose to do one on prayer which was led by Sr Pia Buxton of the Congregation of Jesus if I am not mistaken. It was essentially done in a retreat atmosphere and for most of us, certainly those of us at Westcott, it was a deeply powerful time. There were two things that she shared with us to aid us in our prayers. Two things stuck out for me particularly: one was a couple of lines from a poem and the other was a rendering of a couple of verses in Psalm 51.

Tell me my nature and my name
and give me the freedom to grow

and

Look not on my past mistakes
but on the aspirations
of my heart.

In one of my fairly rare emotional moments, I spent a good 20 or so minutes crying as we were sharing in a group. I had such a sense of helplessness. It was as though I suddenly realised that I had been striving to discover who I was, and to carve out my own path. It was as though the Holy Spirit whacked me over the back of the head with a large stick saying that it is only in God that we can truly become who we are.

That might be a good point to close for now. I will try not to leave it so long until I next post.

Liturgy discussion

2008-11-27T15:45:00.006Z

Below is a discussion that came about on my Facebook profile when I commented that I was missing Solemn Masses. It turned into an interesting discussion on liturgy, and what is appropriate to use. I paste an extract from it here. I have decided to anonymize the comments made, and give the priests the choice to carry on the discussion here, identifying themselves if they want to.

Priest 1 at 16:36 on 26 November
Well first of all, Common Worship wasn't even out when I last made that declaration. Second, is the purpose of the declaration essentially about rites or about safeguarding orthodox teaching etc.? Third, does it (indeed, how can it?) manage to police the legion of home-made 'all-age' and 'family services', where there really is a danger of dodgy teaching?

Matthew McMurray at 17:52 on 26 November
Personally, I like the idea of the liturgy uniting us in our worship. I am beginning to think that we come to the Church to take part in that which is handed down to us; I am not a fan of 'home-made' stuff, especially when we consider the richness of liturgical material that we have that is authorized/commended by the House of Bishops. I think that liturgy is inevitably the thing that does (or at least should) act as a safety-net (?) or guard against heresy and I would be always hesitant to stray from that which is authorized or commended. For me, it is a question of accountability to our Bishops.I think that liturgy is inevitably the thing that does (or at least should) act as a safety-net (?) or guard against heresy and I would be always hesitant to stray from that which is authorized or commended.

Matthew McMurray at 17:53 on 26 November
I never thought that a status message could provoke such (good) discussion.

Priest 1 at 19:45 on 26 November
Just make the Roman Rite you default position...and you won't go far wrong with regard to orthodoxy.

Priest 2 at 14:59 on 27 November
Bit tricky using Roman Rite when: a) there are bits in it I can't say b) we're a C of E institution c) We don't usually have Eucharistic worship d) my Roman Catholic colleague doesn't use it here. e) no students would come However the mind-boggling number of options in C of E authorized services is quite a problem.

As a response to the last points, I would have to say for myself that, because of my notion of accountability to use only material authorized or commended by the House of Bishops, that I would want to stay away from using the Roman Missal. However, the implications of this might also be more far-reaching. Is it then, from my own argument permissible to attend Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament and Benediction, to pray the Holy Rosary, and to sing the Salve Regina at the end of Compline? I want to say yes, but is the extension of that that I could use the Roman Missal? I am not sure that I would want to anyway. I like the Mass provisions in Common Worship although, obviously, I prefer certain Eucharistic Prayers to others. I certainly do not accept the authority of the 'Bishop of Rome' as the BCP refers to the Pope, although I do have respect for him, and for the Roman Catholic Church. I certainly have no intention to jump ship at this moment in time but I think I would tend towards feeling more inclination to join the Orthodox Church if I were going to leave the Church of England. This is mainly because the Orthodox Church is less, as I see it anyway, dogmatic about exactly what happens in the Eucharist. Yes, I believe uncompromisingly in the real presence of Christ in the consecrated elements of the Mass, but I am not prepared to sign on the dotted line regarding how that comes about.
In short, I would stay away from the Roman Missal, or rather the use thereof, and stick to the liturgies found in the BCP and Common Worship volumes.

Living in Community

2008-11-20T16:56:00.001Z

We are now coming to the end of the first term at Westcott House: just three weeks left. Having got used to the timetable this term, it will all be change again. They often said that it was about this time that all the tensions start to come out, and I think that this is true for some of us.

Living in community is never easy and it is much harder when you have a group of 84 ordinands all feeling quite stressed at times and all with slightly different ways of doing things. We have many different traditions from the Church of England here, and many different sensitivities. One thing that I have begun to notice is that it is living in community that can make the differences more pronounced and more important than they are in reality.

I will give you an example and stick to talking about myself. I feel very much more at home and rooted in the more Catholic tradition of the Church of England: it is what, in a lot of ways, just makes sense to me. I find myself, within the breadth of the community here, becoming more consciously Catholic in the way that I worship, and in what I prefer, and sometimes miss. I think this happens for a couple of reasons. It is important to feel rooted and I think that we, as human beings, like to define ourselves so that we know how we belong and relate to each other. We often focus on what is different between us, more than the similarities. When there are discussions about particular services, acts of worship, style of worship, it then becomes abundantly clear where we feel that we fit in and also all the little sensitivities appear. At the same time, it is important to reflect and really get to grips with what is of supreme importance, and what is better laid down for the greater good of the community. Most of the people (if not all) here seem to want to be open towards each other and wrestle with some of the differences between us and, through loving conversation and prayer, try to accept everybody else and see the value of what is important to them.

The question of what is for the greater benefit is an important one. One thing that Westcott House is, rightly, concerned about is inclusivity: that everybody feel included and valued in the hymns/songs, liturgy, and all the rest of it. One manifestation of this is making sure that the words of the liturgy are often changed to be non-gender specific. This really does frustrate me, and I sometimes feel myself getting quite angry. If I, and everybody else here, were to wish to be closed in my mind, I might simply protest and start a one-man battle with the community and sometimes, if I am honest, I really feel like wanting to do this but then I hear somebody talking about why such a thing is important to them, and I find myself challenged. The key, or even the answer, is to be prepared to be open, discuss, disagree in love and perhaps be willing to be changed. I am glad to be here and the diversity, and the tension that sometimes accompanies that is starting to be important to me. I got really wound up about something this morning and was tempted to shout and swear but I found myself leaving for my New Testament lecture praying for the help of the Holy Spirit to lead me in love and grace.

Everything is going well. So far, the essays and supervisions I have done have all been encouraging. It is a real privilege, and also a tension, to have classes with the other theological colleges in Cambridge: sometimes the strongest differences being between the two Anglican colleges! I am enjoying the time here, but it is not always easy.

May God, through the grace and power of his Holy Spirit keep me, and all of us from closed hearts and minds, and work in us to help us to work together for His Kingdom.

Sermon preached at St James', Wulfstan Way, Cambridge

2008-11-17T18:59:00.003Z

The Second Sunday before Advent - November 16, 2008
8AM & 10am Eucharist, St James’, Wulfstan Way, Cambridge

Lectionary Readings
Zephaniah 1:7, 12-end
1 Thessalonians 5:1-11
Matthew 25:14-30

Today’s scripture readings, in some ways, are not the most pleasant or easy to think about. Having passed All Saints’, we begin to think about the Kingdom of God in what the Church of England calls ‘Kingdom Season’. We think about the Kingdom and about the return of Christ and end with next week’s feast: Christ the King. We remind ourselves that we are a community of believers who have recognized Jesus Christ as Messiah, who came to redeem us all; but we also start to turn our attention to the fact that we believe, as we say every week, that he will come again ‘to judge the living and the dead’ and this is the aspect of the season to which our readings direct us this morning.

At first glance, our first reading from Zephaniah seems rather scary and somewhat depressing about the days to come but we should perhaps put our verses into context. Verse 1 of Zephaniah chapter 1 tells us that Zephaniah received this prophecy ‘in the days of King Josiah’ who was the king of Judah whose story can be read in 2 Kings 22-23. Judah, the southern part of the Jewish kingdom, had been led into idolatry by earlier kings and it was Josiah, having found the Book of the Law who restored the kingdom to worship of the one, true God and destroyed the altars and ‘high places’ that had been a part of the idolatry. The Prophecy seems to come before this restoration and verses 4-6 seem to be fulfilled in it.

The passage started by saying ‘Be silent before the Lord God! For the day of the Lord God is at hand’. The Prophet tells them to be silent before God: they do not even deserve to speak. There has been enough going to and fro: now is the time to be silent and wait for the day of the Lord. As believers in God, we too can be all to ready to come to God with our requests, moan about everything that is going wrong, and perhaps even have a certain level of arrogance that leads us to think that we have it all sorted – that we know how it all works, or should work. How often do we simply sit and keep silence before him? Perhaps this is a virtue that we need to discover some more.

The second thing mentioned in the passage is the punishment of the complacency of Judah. ‘I will punish the people who rest complacently on their dregs’. Something is lost in this translation: the verb used in the Hebrew (קָפָא) means ‘thicken, condense, congeal’. One might imagine the dregs becoming rotten and an unpleasant mess growing there: not good for anything but to be scraped out and thrown away. This might be a comparison of the inhabitants of Judah to an unpleasant fungus. These people had become an unpleasant mess that was just festering rather than living out the lives that God had called them too. Sometimes I wonder whether perhaps we in the Church today have become stale and started to congeal – lacking the vibrancy that we were intended to have. The people that Zephaniah was addressing, having turned away from God, didn’t really see that it mattered much because God wasn’t going to do anything about it anyway.

This passage must be read in the context of a prophecy against the people of Judah at a specific time in history. God was in fact going to react to their straying and punish their idolatry and complacency, and let us not forgot that they did turn back to the Lord. Let us remember that when we arrive at 3:15 Zephaniah says that the ‘Lord has taken away the judgements against you’. The message is not all gloom. The important thing was coming back to the Lord, and moving away from thinking that God was not going to do anything about it anyway.

In 1 Thessalonians, St Paul was writing to the Church in Thessalonica, who expected the day of judgement to come quickly. That day would come to the earth ‘like a thief in the night’. The Thessalonians (and by extension all of us) are people who are of the day and of the light. We are ‘not in darkness, for that day to surprise [us] like a thief in the night’. At the heart of St Paul’s writing is a message of encouragement for God has ‘destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ’. With this encouragement also comes a challenge to live as people in the light, ‘putting on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation’. Most of the temptations we struggle with remain very secret – “in the dark”. As people set free, we have a challenge to live lives of which we are not ashamed. This is not something that is easy, but I think it is never too late to rid ourselves of the “works of darkness”.

And at the very root of the parable from St Matthew’s Gospel is a correct view of our resources and even our lives. Even the breath we have is a gift of life from God and it is not ours to guard jealously and leave God outside of. All we have is given to us by God and is not ours to protect and hide in the ground, but rather ours to use, to grow and bear fruit with. Each morning and evening, I go to chapel at Westcott House and am faced with the famous icon behind the altar which has the words of John 15:16: ‘You did not choose me but I chose you’. The verse goes on to say ‘and I appointed you to go bear fruit, fruit that will last’. I have a daily reminder of this challenge. At the start of each day, I arrive at chapel with my own strengths and weaknesses, my skills and gifts but these are not mine for my own benefit: I must use them to seek to glorify God and build up the life of our community, and so must we all. Part of the condemnation of the unworthy servant was that he thought that he had a good grip on the ways of God and had not recognized the authority of the master, and the fact that the talent was his anyway. He thought that the talent he had been given was his to hide, protect and guard and that it was unfair that the master should return to gain the fruit of his labours. All of our lives should be lived in surrender to God, offering ourselves as living sacrifices, and using all our, or rather his, resources, to bear fruit.

And so, as our focus shifts towards the kingdom of God, and as we prepare to celebrate the kingship of Christ next week, and then Advent and Christmas, let us put God back in his rightful place. Let us commit ourselves to his service recognizing that the gifts or talents we have been given come from God. We have not earned it and we certainly have not deserved it. As we come to the Altar to receive the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, remembering that he emptied himself for us, let us also empty ourselves to him that we might go from here to live lives that are pleasing to him, bearing fruit, that we might have no fear when he comes again.

“I’ll keep in touch!”

2008-11-17T16:03:00.001Z

These are the famous last words of anybody leaving any place to start a new life and I suspect that they are often the last words of ordinands who leave their sending churches.

I shouldn't be too negative about myself. I have sent a little piece to go into the last two issues of my sending church's magazine, and I have had at least one e-mail coming from that. I remember writing quite a number of weeks ago now, when I first arrived at Westcott at the end of August, that I would keep a regular blog of my time here but at the end of the day, I have been struggling enough to get my head around timetables, supervisions, essays/plans for the supervisions, church attachments and social context placements, let alone think about blogging.

Life has fallen into a bit of a routine now, and I am just starting to get my head around it but then next term it will all change again anyway! I think I will just have got used to everything when I get ordained and then there will be something else to get used to!

I am enjoying the chapel services here: they form a nice rhythm to the day and feel very important. It has been lovely to get to know some people here and feel that some of them I would actually call 'friends'. It is interesting to have classes alongside different institutions in the Theological Federation and hear other points of view. Most of the time, it doesn't feel as though there are many differences, which I suppose is nice.

It is strange getting used to going to classes and lectures all the time, and more importantly getting used to trying to stay awake for some of them: not because they are boring but because it all seems like quite a lot of information to take in.

Anyway, I am off to the Common Room to have a few cups of tea and chat to other ordinands. I am on bar duty tonight – yet another time I won't get to see the Mrs!

Rites of passage

2008-11-08T17:20:00.003Z

After some frustration with the laundry here at Westcott House, Toni (having had a tax rebate) and I decided to invest in a washing machine as there were taps for one in our bathroom. We looked online and got an energy efficient one and bought it from Sainsburys and paid a little extra for Saturday delivery, installation and testing, having made it clear that there was a flight of steps that it would need to be carried up. When the delivery people arrived, however, they informed us that they were not able to carry it up the stairs. I showed them the bathroom and they said that they would not be able to install it for us as the connectors on the pipes were plastic. We decided that we would let them leave the machine with us. After about half an hour scratching our heads and wondering how we were going to get it up the flight of stairs, Toni, who is only 4'10'' and fairly petite thought she would see if she could lift the bottom. She could and so I went to the top to pull from that side while Toni lifted the bottom and somehow we managed it. I hadn't realised that my wife was HE-MAN in disguise. Anyway, we have now connected it and are doing the wash cycle without clothes that it recommends you do.

The thing is though, I am glad that we don't have to use the laundry machines (that don't seem to spin the clothes very effectively) and spend a fortune in the tumble dryers anymore, but it feels too grown up. Buying a washing machine is something that grownups do. Well, I suppose I am thirty in February. It feels a little as though we have done a weird 'grownup thing'.

Federation Worship 2

2008-10-24T20:15:00.003+01:00

You may remember me mentioning recently some of my questions to do with Eucharistic communion with Churches such as the Methodist Church or the URC Church, who don't have a three-fold ministry and Episcopal ordination etc. Well, this last Tuesday it was the URC who were in charge of the Federation Eucharist. I went and was still uncertain as to what I was going to do in the service and I had had several conversations with people here.

I went to the service which was held at St Columba's URC. I was quite struck at how plain and austere the building and the service was. The sermon was fairly interesting because it was talking along the lines of the need for unity, and especially Eucharistic unity. Rather interesting but somewhat insensitive considering the presence of RC women, Orthodox students and some Anglo-Catholics who, like me, were asking questions. But of course, a URC minister isn't really going to be coming from the same view point so to him there is probably no problem with Eucharistic liturgy. I was left feeling a little lost as to what I should do. It struck me that there were three options:

Stay where I was.
Go for a blessing.
Receive communion.

The problems (with each option) I think were as follows:

Staying where I was would have been a touch rude and self-righteous and perhaps (wrongly) superior and this did not seem the right expression for my position.
To some people, the idea of going for a blessing is a bit of a weird half-way house, at which some people seem to get offended (and sometimes defensive).
If I wasn't receiving with a clear conscience, then I would perhaps being eating and drinking judgement upon myself (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:27-29).

So, either way, I could see a potential problem. In the end, the most satisfactory outcome seemed to be to receive a blessing and so I joined the queue. In the end, it was my Hebrew teacher who was administering at the 'station' I went to. I crossed my arms over my chest and bowed slightly. She laid her hand on my head and prayed what I can only describe as a beautiful prayer that God would equip me for the work that he is calling me to. I saw no offence (in her) but rather grace and love.

For most people at my college, there was not an issue for them and I certainly don't have an issue with that but I think that through conversations I have realised that it is important to do everything that we do with integrity and with a clear conscience, doing things not to please man but rather to please God. The attitude here on such matters seems to be one of real conversation and acceptance. In our worship, and in our ecumenical dealings, we each try to act with a clear conscience, and respect the convictions of those in our community who feel differently about things. Of course, sometimes there are tensions: it would be unrealistic to hope that there weren't! But by and large, we are a good and open community and it is a blessing to be a part of it.

The fact is that part of me really wanted to receive communion, and I understand the merit of doing so, and the benefits of having these fortnightly ecumenical services. But at the moment, I feel that I have to be more sure about what I think and so a lot more thinking and praying is necessary. I am also open to the fact that my thinking might well change as time goes on. I guess all I am saying is that I have to be honest (and open).

Jean Vanier

2008-10-24T16:50:00.001+01:00

I had the great privilege of listening to Jean Vanier (founder of L'Arche communities) twice this week.

On Tuesday, after lunch he sat in our common room at Westcott House to speak to us ordinands. There were a few ordinands who came from the other colleges as well. I don't know why, but I had always pictured a very short man but he was the same height as me, if not a couple of inches taller. He sat at one end of the common room and seemed to radiate saintliness, even though I am sure he would be horrified to have such a description applied to him, such was his humility. He started by saying, "I don't know why it is you have all come here." He seemed almost surprised at times that so many of us were interested. He talked a little about some of his experiences with the people in the communities, disabled and mentally ill and all that sort of thing. He mostly answered people's questions. Unfortunately, I had to go to a supervision so had to leave early.

On Wednesday evening, he gave a talk at Great St Mary's. I, and a lot of other Westcott ordinands, went and was completely amazed by this man. He spoke with such humility, depth and love that we truly felt as though we were indeed in the presence of a saint. I didn't take notes but three things that he said really struck me and I thought I would share them here. I won't comment but would rather let them speak for themselves.

We are healed by those we reject.
[Talking of reaching the age of 80 and growing weak] When you grow weak, you begin to have to say to people, "I need you." It is this saying "I need you" that binds us together.
To love somebody is to show them that they have gifts and are unique and [later in the talk] that you are glad that they exist.

For my Social Context Placement, I have opted to do Mental Health. I had a meeting the other day and have opted (though it has not yet been officially confirmed) to work with teenagers. There were two choices: eating disorders or others. By the sounds of things, the teenagers I might be working with have varying levels of depression and other mental illnesses, self harm and all that. A lot of what Jean Vanier said made me think about the context I may soon be working in.

汉字！

2008-10-19T23:12:00.005+01:00

我现在会用汉字。
我学了一点普通话，但是那时候不会用汉字在我的计算机。我现在就会用。这是我的第一次写中文在这儿。我知道你们的大部分汉字看不懂，但是我那么高兴就要写中文。

上帝为你们祝福！

Week 3 of the Wescott Term

2008-10-15T13:38:00.002+01:00

Somehow, and somewhat suddenly, I find myself at the end of week three of the Westcott term. The time has passed very quickly and I, and I suspect all the other ordinands as well, am only just about managing to keep up with a new rhythm and a whole new form and pace of life. It is interesting to go through this period of time, feeling somewhat lost. I am hoping, and am in fact sure, that soon we will start to become more at home and find the rhythm of life here.

One of the things that is very nice and is becoming very important is the rhythm of the daily offices. It is such a privilege to be able (and in fact to have to) pray the Daily Offices with a community of 84 ordinands and sometimes partners as well – particularly at times when the reality of life here seems rather overwhelming. Last Friday, I went to my first Introduction to Church History lecture at the Divinity faculty. It took me a while to get used to the sight a man stood before us wearing a gown to lecture. We ended up having to arrange a supervision for this week (Friday) and so I have to write a 3,000 word essay on The Role of Women in the Evangelical Revival. The funniest thing is that we don't even have the lecture for another couple of weeks. I got myself all stressed and was feeling a little lost and when the time came to go to Evening Prayer (which on Friday's is BCP Evensong), I sat there and felt overwhelmed that we have this privilege and the break was more than welcome. The Offices are becoming for me the point in the day when I can just for half of an hour lay down all the 'strain and stress' and, I suppose, regain a little perspective. I am not here to stress about degree classifications and all the rest of it but rather to learn how to become the person that I believe God has called me to be. As I said in my last sermon at the Priory, I believe that our vocations are discovered and lived out in conversation with God. We come to sense God's thoughts towards us (Jeremiah 29:11) and we then respond to them in conversation. The Offices are a vital part of this process.

It is also a huge privilege to have the option of a daily Mass, which usually follows straight on from Morning Prayer. In this, I find myself fed and nourished to go into my day of study. Also, there is the option to go to Compline each day (Sunday-Thursday) which often seems such a privilege at the end of a tiring day. I have put my name down on the cantors' rota and have done my first 'duty'.

I have a meeting today with a priest in Cambridge (vicar of LSM) to explore spiritual direction and confession with him. I am looking forward to this very much.

It is hard in all the busyness for Toni and I to spend time together and I think we are both coming to value the hour or so together that we have in the evenings to relax and laugh together. We both sometimes lament hardly seeing each other and it is particularly hard for Toni, sometimes feeling that she is second-best to study and the Offices and the other commitments that inevitably accompany ordination training. Please do keep us in your prayers (both individually and as a couple).

Federation worship

2008-10-08T11:12:00.001+01:00

Last night was the first Federation worship service of the year. Westcott House is part of the Cambridge Theological federation with the other theological colleges in Cambridge and we have a fortnightly service.

Now, I am not the most ecumenically minded of people: my way of worshipping and my ecclesiology is usually right whilst everybody else's is wrong – naturally! But I have to say that I really enjoyed the experience last night. It was led by the Principal of Wesley House with most of the students involved in leading (I assume) Methodists. There was an acclamation for the Scripture readings which was African in style – it may have been from an Iona book. It reminded me a little of being in Kenya and I couldn't help joining in the clapping. As part of the Intercessions, we sang Matt Redman's Let the prayers of the saints... while one of the Methodist ordinands came in gently swinging a thurible and walking around Wesley Church (at the end of Jesus Lane where Federation Worship takes place). Of course, that pushed all the right buttons for me and the symbolism was obviously carefully thought out and certainly challenged some of my stereotypes (which is obviously a good thing and the point of 'Fed. Worship'.

There is an interesting question amongst some of us about whether we receive Communion from Methodist and URC ministers – questions to do with sacramentality, ecclesiology, (lack of) episcopacy etc. I would be interested to hear any thoughts. My line is going to be 'probably not' unless my heart feels 'strangely warmed'. I hope you appreciate the irony of quoting Wesley! It is important to note that this comes down to genuine questions and matters of conscience rather than just being narrow- or closed-minded. I suppose that exposure to other denominations in the Federation is actually the perfect place to ask such questions and the perfect place with openness to explore some of the answers.

The Lord Almighty grant us a quiet night and a perfect end...

2008-10-06T22:23:00.001+01:00

I put my name down on the list of people who were willing to be cantors at Compline (which we have every day) last week. Today we had a short session in Chapel to go through the bits that the cantor has to sing, the most complicated of which are probably the Psalm antiphons. They handed out a rota for those who had already signed their names. I am on next Tuesday night. 'Great,' I thought to myself so I turned up nice and relaxed to sit through compline. The cantor on the rota didn't turn up. As I walked into Chapel the officiant looked at me and asked if I could sing. So I ended up being cantor tonight.

I did enjoy it. We sing the Psalms at Compline antiphonally: the cantor sings the odd verses and the congregation reply with the even ones observing a lovely pause in the middle of the verse. I must say that it was lovely to have responsibility for the odd verses. It really made me think about the meaning and flow of the verses and so I paid more attention to the chanting. I love Compline and I cannot wait to be on cantor duty again.

Am I allowed to like being cantor or am I supposed just to be miserable about leading part of the worship?

So much for daily updates!

2008-10-06T17:48:00.003+01:00

Things at Westcott continue to go quite well and I am starting to really feel as though I have arrived and I am loving it.

We had a fabulous day on Friday. We had a 'quiet day' where silenced was observed in College between Morning and Evening Prayer and we had addresses by Fr Stephen Ortiger, who I understand is a former abbot of Worth Abbey. His talks were very thought-provoking. I took the opporunity to speak to him as there was something that I wanted to talk about but I ended up feeling as though I hadn't much to say and probably should have freed my space for somebody else but I suspect that that was just insecurity.

Hebrew classes are going well. All the other classes start on Thursday so it will be interesting to see how things go. My first Hebrew homework wasn't that good (I know!!!!) because I forgot to put all the little dots in. I made much more effort to check the second one and even checked a couple of situations where I was unsure whether I was to put in the 'Daghes lene' etc. It is nice to study a language in a class situation again.

I went to 'the other place' today. We had to go to the SCP (Social Context Placement) fair to meet people and register our choices. Mine were, in order of preference: Healthcare - mental health; Spirituality and ageing; and finally Primary School. I hope I get a mental health placement, weird as it might seem to say such a thing. Those of you who know me in 'real life' might understand some of my reasons.

Well, Evening Prayer now so I am off!

Finally started: update from Westcott House

2008-10-01T07:33:00.001+01:00

Induction week has finally started. All the other ordinands arrived over the weekend, mostly on Sunday, and so things have now started in earnest. It has been nice to get to know some people and start sussing out who I want to avoid and who I want to be friends with. (If you're reading this, then I probably mentioned this blog to you and so you are most likely in the "be friends with" category.) There are 84 ordinands (in all years, including some independent students so perhaps 'members of the community' is a better term) at Westcott House this year so it is a large community that barely fits into the Chapel and dining room. Of course, getting to know such a huge group takes time but it is gradually happening. A couple of G&Ts in the bar after compline usually helps the process: that's my excuse anyway.

The pattern of worship at Westcott is as follows (though there are exceptions which I won't bother you all with here check the Westcott website if you really want to know):

7:15 Silent meditation in Chapel (optional)

7:40 Morning Prayer (compulsory or 'normative')

8:00ish Mass (optional)

18:00 Evening Prayer (compulsory)

9:30 Compline (optional)

I am a lover of Compline and a daily Mass kind of person so I have more or less decided to try to make both of these as often as possible. The problem I have is that I get up with Toni at 5:30 and walk her to her bus stop at 6:00am. That's right – am! So I come back to sit in my flat for a bit so going to meditation as well yesterday was more out of boredom than piety. I did enjoy the experience but I am not sure how long 5 services (or at least events) is sustainable or desirable. Having thought about it a little, whilst boredom might not be the best of motivations for attending an act of worship, surely God looks at the heart. Today, is the tutor groups' breakfast and prayers (one of the exceptions) which doesn't start until 8 so I thought I would update my blog in the early hours.

So far, I have had a few different introductory-type talks and have two hours of Hebrew per day – which is right up my street. I am sensing that the pace is going to be extremely fast. Even I, as a bizarrely gifted linguist, am getting worried so I wonder what those who aren't natural linguists are feeling at the moment.

The food here at Westcott is fabulous! If you've found this blog by searching for Westcott House, and are thinking about visiting, and if food is an important factor in training for you then this might be a place to consider. I am sure that I will put on the infamous 'Westcott stone' but there is a bit of growing room in my cassock so I should be ok.

Hopefully, I won't take so long to update next time!

For behold, darkness shall cover the earth.

2008-09-16T18:36:00.001+01:00

I went to Chapel at 5:30 for Evening Prayer. I have been doing this every day since I arrived but today was different.

Chapel seemed dark – really dark. I know that the days get gradually shorter rather than suddenly becoming dark but today was the first time that I actually became aware that the nights are getting darker. The other possibility is that I always arrived after the lights were put on but as far as I recall, I have always arrived in good time.

I am now pleased to announce that, in my opinion, autumn has arrived.

Day 17 at Westcott House

2008-09-14T20:25:00.002+01:00

I can't believe that I have been here for 17 days now! In two weeks everything starts properly when all the other ordinands arrive. I can't wait for that!

In the meantime, I moved into our new flat on Monday. The removal company arrived with all of our things on Thursday and so since then, we have been busy unpacking and trying to sort everything out. The living room/kitchen looks quite respectable now as does the bedroom although I will have to buy some shelves to put things on in there before we can get it all fully sorted. It is only really the bathroom and the study that we have left to finish off so that is basically what I will be doing this week.

I served at the Community Eucharist on Thursday which was nice. I volunteered to do it and then suddenly realised that every church and chapel has a slightly different way of serving but I managed to do everything well. I was able to wear my cassock and cotta because they had arrived earlier in the day so it was quite nice, after frantically packing, to serve at the Eucharist.

At some point this week, having unpacked our digital camera, I will take some photographs of the college and our flat so that you can see where I am. I might even take some video. Watch this space.

Tempus neminem manet

2008-09-09T11:04:00.001+01:00

[I am sure you will be able to find a translation online!]

Time certainly seems to pass quickly leaving us to try our best to catch up. I can hardly believe that I have nearly been here for two weeks! Two weeks on Saturday is the day when everybody else arrives and all kicks off so not long now. In the meantime, I have been attending the offices here at College and it has been lovely to have somebody else to pray with. I went to Mass and Evensong/Benediction at LSM and really enjoyed it there. I can't help allowing my thoughts to fly away as they will and wonder where I am going to be attached this year.

I moved into our flat yesterday. I had e-mailed our removers to see if they could deliver any earlier but the person I e-mailed was off sick so nobody saw it, so they are arriving on Thursday with all of our stuff which is nice because the flat looks quite empty at the moment. Lots of cleaning to do so I have to go and get a load of cleaning stuff today to give everything a good going over.

It has been nice to get to know a few people a little better. [Thank you Mr M. Malabar for that coffee yesterday: it truly was superb – and for the recommendation for coffee supplies.] It is nice being in the flat but I miss looking out onto the Old Court. I suppose though that here is where all the other couples and family lives so it is nice to be a part of that. I am trying to work out the etiquette here though. What I mean is this: Is it ok to pop round 'for a cup of sugar' or does one have to be invited (not for the sugar as such but you know what I mean). I sense that there is and will be a delicate balance to be struck between being sociable and having (and allowing others to have) enough personal (/family) time and space. I suppose that all this will become clear in time.

As far as 'letting go' is concerned, it is definitely feeling nice to be able (for now) to go to Church without worrying about doing anything. It has also been nice to have that moment at the end of the service when the priest greets you and you say that you are starting your priestly formation – it feels nice. I think I am trying to feel my way into my new 'ordinand' skin.

Nearly a week gone

2008-09-03T18:49:00.001+01:00

Well, I have been here nearly a week now. It has been great to be here and have been praying the Morning and Evening Offices with other ordinands. I have really appreciated that.

Today I had a good day. I walked with one of the ordinands here around Cambridge and we visited King's College, Clare College, Peterhouse College and walked around the Fitzwilliam Museum. They have an absolutely fantastic Egypt section in the FM and absolutely wonderful art collections upstairs. It was so strange to be staring at original paintings by Monet, Dégas [does it have the accent?]and Renoir and people like that.

Today has been mostly spent in company so that has been nice and I am going to the pub tonight with a couple of ordinands. I should think I will have real ale (if available) rather than G&T. ["Good man" I hear you say!]

Toni is spending the night in Peterborough so that she can rehearse with the drama group that she has rejoined and I have not been able to speak for long to her but it sounds as though her first day with her pupils went really well. She sounded very happy. It was just that when I phoned she was just about to sit down to eat.

Anyway, today I am quite happy.

Day 6 at Westcott House - letting go.

2008-09-02T13:35:00.002+01:00

[For those of you who may be worrying about my sanity, I would like to take this opportunity to reassure you that I am not going to keep a track of the number of days that I am here.]

It is quite interesting being here at the moment because Toni has now started her teaching job in Peterborough so she is not here all day and so I am left alone with not a lot to do. I have started to do some reading to fill the time. At the moment I am reading Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology by Daniel L. Migliore. I thought that that might be a sensible type of book to read as I prepare to get everything started.

In my first year, the courses are pretty much laid out for you but there is more freedom in years 2 and 3. This year, I will be doing an Introduction to the New Testament, an Introduction to the Old Testament, and Introduction to Church History and Hebrew. I could do either Hebrew or Greek but I met with the Director of Studies yesterday and we decided that I could do Hebrew this year and Greek next year. Often, people only do one language but with my background in languages, we thought that it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to study both of them while I am here. They normally suggest that you study Greek first but my logic was that if I study Hebrew this year, then when I come to study NT Greek I will have a feel for some of the Hebraisms and perhaps have a better grasp of the intentions of some of the things written. Now it is just a matter of waiting.

A lot of the ordinands that I have met here have spoken of the experience of being broken to be rebuilt and I must confess that even now I am starting to feel that. It was strange going to Mass on Sunday and not having anything to do. It is strange having been so involved in my sending church, and now to be starting from scratch again. Already I feel as though I am starting to become somebody different. I know that all my experiences at the Priory and at St Martin's Chaplaincy (now of course the University of Cumbria) will inevitably have shaped the person and the priest that I will become but I am starting to get a sense that they are far from being the sum total of that. I am both scared and excited. I am scared to go through the experience of formation: to go through that experience of being taken apart and being put back together again, having to learn great humility and openness; at the same time, I am excited to get stuck in. It seems as though I have been waiting for years to be where I am now and I suppose that in a lot of ways I have idealised the being here and not fully appreciated how tough it is going to be. Having arrived, I feel as though a little of this is starting to happen. I suppose one could say that it is a matter of letting go of everything you have done, of everything you have been and learning to start from scratch again looking with a discerning eye very carefully to discern what God is saying and doing through the experiences.

Lord, give me the strength to face my weaknesses and the changes and challenges that are going to take place.

Please do keep me in your prayers.

Benediction

2008-08-31T19:54:00.001+01:00

I went to Evensong and Benediction at LSM. It was a wonderful service.

The Blessed Sacrament was placed upon the altar and the priest knelt before it and led some intercessions. The intercessions were extempore in style and came across as very real and genuine and it was lovely to be a part of it. I am so glad that I went. I might go to Mass there next Sunday morning to see what that is like.

Day 4 at Westcott House

2008-08-31T17:12:00.001+01:00

Well, I have been here for four days now. Of course, given that there are four weeks or so left until I start properly, things have been rather quiet but it has been lovely to be here.

On Thursday night, we had the Community Eucharist at which there were about 6 adults (including the server and celebrant) and a few kids. As there were so few of us, we were invited to stand around the altar for the Eucharistic Prayer which was lovely and gave it a lovely feeling. We had a little barbeque after that with a few glasses of wine which was a lovely way to spend such a pleasant evening.

On Friday, I spent most of my time walking around Cambridge trying to get my bearings a little. I went to the lunchtime Mass at Little S. Mary's (LSM). It was quite nice. It all had a very Catholic flavour and used Common Worship Order One in Tradition Language. I had never been to a Traditional Language Order One service before and I am not sure whether I saw the point to be honest: it just seemed a little too pointlessly archaic. Toni and I watched a couple of DVDs in the evening with a glass or two of wine and had a relaxing time.

On Saturday, Toni's grandparents came with some things that Toni had left at their house. I accidentally broke the aerial for Toni's little television so it has proved virtually impossible to get a signal. I am hoping that when our larger telly with my booster aerial arrives that we will be able to watch something. It has been quite nice to go without TV for a while but it does take some adjusting to and of course means that you find that you have to talk to each other a little more. I also went to Vespers with the Russian Orthodox community that uses the College chapel on Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings. That was nice if a little foreign as an experience.

This morning, I went with a couple of other Westcott ordinands to S. Bene't's Church in Cambridge where the former vice-principal Angela Tilby is vicar. The service was quite pleasant to be at and apparently the Church is the oldest building in the county. This evening I am going to Evensong and Benediction at LSM (see above). I have never been to Benediction before but have always wanted to and so I am looking forward to that.

At the moment, it is a little strange because I am starting to feel a little settled here but I am aware that there is a long time before I have to do actually do anything. On Friday I said Morning and Evening Prayer with one of the ordinands who is around and so I am hoping that I will have somebody to say it with this week. I am gradually starting to feel as though I am beginning to feel as though I am finding my way around Cambridge although I was shocked (I think) that there is no Wilko's – particularly vexing as we had realised that we had not brought any oven trays (or baking trays) with us.

Ah well...

I have arrived!

2008-08-28T17:01:00.001+01:00

Today, I have arrived at Westcott House, Cambridge to start my ordination training. Nothing really starts for another month but we have moved here now because Toni has a teaching job and so we needed to be here for the beginning of term.

There are not that many people around the college at the moment although I have been introduced to one or two ordinands who are here over the summer.

There is a community Mass for those that are here tonight followed by a barbeque which will be lovely on my first evening here. It is just a shame that Toni is not coming until tomorrow.

‘Is it just me?’ or ‘Fallen humanity and the ordination and consecration of women.’

2008-07-10T00:07:00.001+01:00

I am preaching again on Sunday evening. The Old Testament reading is from 2 Samuel (7:18 onwards) and it is passage where David says to God, "Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far?" It is a wonderful sentiment and as I begin to think about it, and also the whole FOCA and voting for women bishops situation, I begin to sense perhaps a little of what King David felt. King David has just been told that his throne will be established for ever, and so this sentiment is as a response to that: he is overwhelmed by the sheer goodness and generosity of God.

As I look back on my life so far (29½ years), it is amazing to look at the different stages of my life and reflect upon how things have changed. A lot has changed, but then there are some things that have remained the same. I still struggle with the same weaknesses and temptations and I still sometimes fall. I wish that I could get to a stage where I was much stronger. Within me, I have a strong desire to live a life that is pleasing to God and honouring to him, and the stronger this feeling gets, the more I become aware of my weaknesses. And yet, I know in my heart, that Jesus came to this earth so that I could be reconciled to God, however many times I stumble and fall. I suppose that we have all had times in our life when we have been given a second chance, and then a third chance until there are no more chances. When I sin, I sometimes worry that perhaps this was my last chance. I am not one – these days at least – for talking in terms of 'what the enemy wants' but giving up is of course what 'the enemy' wants. Romans 12:3 says 'I say to everyone among you not to think of yourselves more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgement'. At the core of this 'sober judgement' surely has to be a recognition of our faults: an admission of where we really stand and I suppose of how bad we really are. All this can get depressing but of course we read in 2 Corinthians 7:10 that 'godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation and brings no regret'. The main difference between this and the grief that 'produces death' is that the recognition of our faults and weaknesses does not keep us down and cause us to give up but rather leads us to confess our sins. More recently, I have come to see the value of the sacrament of reconciliation: confessing to a priest. It is all very well to be told that you can confess straight to God and know that through Jesus we can be forgiven, but as I have been reading recently (in a book I might write about properly another time), it is easy to kid ourselves and still try to hide everything. When you confess to a priest (as I have only done a couple of times now), you have to really feel the shame and embarrassment of telling another human being what you have done wrong. I am not sure that I really feel the shame on my own before God. I wonder whether I really let myself feel real contrition.

Moving on a little, it seems that the Church, and particularly evangelical churches that I have been to, can give out a message something along the lines of this: "We'll let you get involved with x but first you have to deal with y in your life." If I think back to 2002/3 when I really began to think that I was called to ordained ministry, immense and inexpressible changes have occurred in my life but in other ways, I still struggle with the same – or at least fairly similar – issues. What is the real fruit of growing in maturity in the faith? I am more and more certain that it is less about the things we do – whether good or bad – and more about something much more invisible. Of course, behaviour and actions are a real testimony to others but sometimes I wonder if we put too much emphasis on it. How is it that I was not ready to start training 6 years ago but now have been given the 'all clear'? I can come up with a few answers but I don't think I will bother. I suppose that real maturity in the faith gives you a different perspective on your own life, your own importance, and your own status. I will always be Matthew who struggles with x, y, and z, but daily I am becoming a different Matthew in other ways. There are parts of my life in which I need really to change but on the whole I am growing. If I were to write a list here, I think it would be very easy for me to write a long list of why I shouldn't be a priest: less easy would be to write a list of why I should, or rather why it is right for me to train to be a priest. The crux of the matter is surely to keep getting up, to keep brushing myself off, and to continue to follow Jesus and try to learn more from him. This is something that I am sure that I will always have to keep doing, however many times I have to. I might stumble but I still feel the call to follow Jesus to be as irresistible as when I first gave my life to him, and offered myself to the ministry of the Church. I keep stumbling, but it is as though I hear the voice of Jesus every time saying, "Matthew, follow me. I have a plan."

Faced with all these sorts of reflections, it seems unreal and bizarre how upset we get over issues like sexuality and the ordination of women. Obviously, we have to think about these things and seek to make right decisions. For the record, the more I think about it, the more I am coming to the conclusion that it is right that women be consecrated to the episcopacy. I was amused to read that the Vatican has warned that it is another obstacle to closer communion. My response would be something like this: "And the other obstacles are all things that we can overlook?" I think that it is right that the Church of England seek to rethink issues like the ordination and consecration of women, and make decisions that it judges to be the wisest. And of course it is right that we don't have a 'church within a church' set up. The ordination of women is not something that is going to go away. If we (in a typically Catholic view) believe in the God-given authority of the Church, then we should of course accept the decisions that it makes. Anglican history is full of people disagreeing but hopefully God can work in the hearts and minds of all of us and lead us forward in faith (excuse the expression) as one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church of England.

Who am I that the Lord should bring me this far? I am a child of God seeking to follow my Father in heaven. I am not perfect but perhaps there is in fact something that I can offer. Perhaps we can all stop looking at other people (be they female, gay or whatever) and concentrate on putting our own lives in order.

Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, secundum verbum tuum in pace.

FOCA and other things

2008-07-07T20:47:00.001+01:00

I have been following the articles on the Guardian website about everything that is going in the Anglican Communion at the moment. I have found it quite interesting but quite frustrating at the same time. I find it interesting because it is always interesting to read about other people's arguments but frustrating because it seems so upsetting to see such division happening in one's own Church. I know that Anglican history is full of arguments and internal fighting but on the whole we seem to have managed to hold most things together.

I had the misfortune of hearing the Archbishop of Sydney speaking about the future of Evangelicals in the Church of England in 2003 and the language he used was nothing but confrontational and showed a view that was not prepared really to engage with some of the questions that then, as well as now, were in question. It was a particularly conservative and really quite intimidating theology to listen to and it was one of the turning points that really helped me to see that I was not an Evangelical. Since I have emerged as an Anglo-Catholic, I am aware that Catholics can be just as uncompromising and narrow which is just as wrong.

The two main issues seem to be the issue of homosexuals in ministry and the ordination/consecration of women. I suppose that they see the Word of God as being an immovable standard, which gives them permission not to engage with the issues or at least it seems that way. The Gospels are full of stories of Jesus reaching out to people who were deemed unworthy of God's attention: tax collectors, adulteresses, the ritually unclean and many more. The common refrain seems to be "your faith has made you whole". "Whole" seems to be the best rendering of the Greek from what I can gather, being much better than "well" or "clean". Could it be that this wholeness was more about being freed from what the religious authorities said and discovering their position before God? From what I can gather as well, homosexuality in OT and NT times seems to have been tied in with prostitution, abuse of children and idolatry. It seems that it is not so tied in with these things now and I have met several homosexuals who I think of as good people. Is it wrong to fall in love with somebody even if they are of the same gender? Is it wrong to share physical pleasure with somebody even if they are of the same sex? I am not sure that I think it is. I am well aware of what Leviticus 18:22 and 20: 13 say, and didn't even need to look up the references but I do feel that more reflection is needed. Can a homosexual come to Jesus and live a godly life? I think so and I think that a homosexual can just as well be Christ to other people. We might say that we could accept it if they remain celibate and "play the game" but surely that is more damaging in the long run. I am not trying to say that it is perfectly okay but I am just trying to think more widely. The rhetoric of FOCA sounds much more like the rhetoric of the Pharisees and we all know what Jesus had to say to these people.

As for the consecration of women, well I think that I am getting nearer to being able to accept it. If they can be priests, then why can they not be Bishops? I know that there is not going to be a neat conclusion to the matter and one side of the debate or the other is going to be upset but surely the answer is not to take one's bat and ball and go home! The history of the Church of England seems always to have been a matter of finding a suitable compromise between two opposite extremes and various shades in the middle. Why is it that we are still intent on making the Church of England a conservative/liberal evangelical/catholic and not recognise the gift that exists in the breadth of traditions if we just try to open our hearts and minds a little. I am guilty of having my problems with people of different traditions of course but I am not interested in trying to create a monochrome Church: I prefer to have the debates than just shut my door on anybody who sees things differently to me. Does the Church of England need to rediscover a little humility and really pray for the Holy Spirit to guide our decisions and policies? Do we all need to lay aside our own views and be guided into a common future in which we seek really to live as the Body of Christ? I think so but I know that this is not easy.

It is certainly an interesting time to be about to start priestly formation. Somehow I don't think that Westcott House will find itself in the stranglehold of FOCA: Oak Hill and Wycliffe seem to be the favourites at the moment. I have just had the letter from London telling me what my personal allowance for each term is going to be. The grants committee in Blackburn Diocese are about to meet to decide what level of support they are going to give Toni and me and I have just sent off the removal quotes to the Diocese. Everything is gradually falling into place and it looks as though we are going to be moving down to Cambridge on August 28^th. Toni has now got a teaching job in Peterborough (roughly an hour away from Cambridge) and so it will be good to get there a few days before she has to teach. If the travelling gets too much, her family are just outside of Peterborough so she has an option there too so I am sure it is a good situation. By my reckoning there are 7 and a half weeks to go until we move...and counting.

Yesterday’s sermon

2008-07-07T20:44:00.001+01:00

The Seventh Sunday after Trinity

Lancaster Priory Evensong

June 8, 2008

Lectionary Readings

Psalm 56

2 Samuel 2:1-11, 3:1

Luke 18:31-19:10

It's not rocket science is it! God creates people, reveals himself to them, calls them and tells them his will; those people then duly follow and everything runs smoothly. If we all do our little bit, then the world will run as it is meant to, and we will all live happily ever after. You see, the thing that God did wrong was give us the ability to think and argue, and to form different interpretations. Anybody with any sense who was going to create a universe would make sure that it all ran smoothly, and if something goes wrong, you take it apart and start again. Instead, we find ourselves plonked onto this planet, with a load of other people who frankly just don't seem to get it and we have this god, who revealed himself to humans and freed them and gave them this law but apparently gave us this thing called free will so that we could choose whether or not to obey, and also gave us the desire and ability to ponder these things and wonder exactly what these things mean. Maybe I should lend him my copy of Age of Empires: now that's how to create a universe, or at least an empire. You create a little person and you then send them to a job and they just carry on doing that job until it is finished and you send them somewhere else: simple! There is no arguing, no debate, no quarrelling: everybody just does what they are told. As I said at the start: not exactly rocket science is it!

I like Age of Empires, but the people you create aren't exactly interesting. You never quite feel that you bond with them or feel part of their lives; they just do what they're told: no arguing, no mess, simple. God creates us, and because he loves us, he gives us something of himself: he makes us in his image. He gives us the desire for him: the sometimes vague sense that there must be something out there. He creates us and gives us life but he doesn't just place us in a random part of the world and leave us to a certain task, giving us instructions at each point in our lives. Yes, he reveals himself to us in Holy Scripture, and gives us a standard to live by but he does not treat us as robots or figures in a computer game. He gives us freedom: freedom to seek him, love him and follow him; but also freedom to deny him and ignore him. When God creates, he pours everything that he has and is into it and holds nothing back. Because of his boundless love, he allows us to have a relationship with him: a relationship in which he makes himself completely open to rejection. We are not his playthings: we are people who he has created to share this universe with, and to have a reciprocal relationship of love. The trouble is of course that he has given us this freedom to think and question, and so we often get it wrong.

Take David as an example. God sent the prophet Samuel to anoint him king over Israel to replace Saul in 1 Samuel 16. You'd have thought that the word would have spread, and when Saul died David would be made King over all of Israel. Instead some bloke called Abner son of Ner, takes one of Saul's sons (called Ishbaal) and makes him king over part of the kingdom. I mean, what kind of name is Ishbaal anyway? It is definitely not a kingly name like David. Eventually, David is made king over all of Israel and everything is ok. It would of course have been simpler to listen to God in the first place and save everybody a lot of heartache.

When we get to our New Testament reading, we find Jesus trying to explain to the disciples what is going to happen. Luke, in a very politically correct way, writes that 'they understood nothing about these things; in fact what he said was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.' I would have just written: 'they were a bit thick' and saved a bit of time. I can imagine their school reports, or rather discipleship reports, saying 'Doesn't always seem fully engaged. Must work harder.' Then of course we find this story of the blind man. The crowd tries to silence the blind man who is trying to reach out to Jesus. "He's far too busy to bother with you." Of course, the opposite is true. Sometimes I think we get so distracted by our plans and what we think are the important things to do, and miss out on what God is calling us to do; it isn't even that we are doing bad things but we do have a habit of assuming that our plans are God's plans.

Our reading tonight ends with the story of Zacchaeus: a short man who had to climb a tree to see Jesus. I like to imagine him fighting his way through the crowds, trying to avoid being squashed. Finally, he finds a tree and gets his glimpse of Jesus. We are not led to believe that he wanted anything else. He has heard of Jesus: the great teacher from Galilee who seems to have the power to heal people and teaches in a way unlike anything people have heard before and he gets near and see him. He is a happy man. Jesus looks at him and his heart beats a little faster. "Zacchaeus," Jesus says. "He knows my name!" Zacchaeus marvels. "I must stay at your house today." The divine comes under the roof of a hated man, who was regarded as a sinner and the idiots outside who think they know it all start moaning about it. Jesus is in Zacchaeus' house and Zacchaeus is touched by the Divine Presence and he senses something of the will of God. "I will give half my possessions away and I will pay back four times any money I have defrauded out of people." This encounter with holiness leads him to see his faults and he resolves to make amends. Jesus, not the people moaning outside, is the judge and pronounces that salvation has come to his house.

I wonder if this reading has something to say to our brothers and sisters who have started the Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans. The main issues seem to be homosexual clergy and women bishops. I wonder if Gene Robinson in America has become something of a Zacchaeus in our time: called by God but despised by those around him. I wonder if Jesus is in fact in his ministry and bringing salvation through Bishop Robinson's life and ministry. If Luke were writing today, I wonder if he would write about Foca that they understood nothing about all these things. I am not sure quite how I feel about the whole issue of sexuality and ministry, but I have learnt that like Abner son of Ner we have a nasty habit of getting things wrong. I wonder if those who would have prevented Bishop Robinson's ministry are like the crowd trying to prevent the blind man receiving that which Jesus would give him.

I have been slightly tongue-in-cheek and perhaps a little longer than usual tonight but I hope that you will see the precious stone through all the dirt. So often we get things wrong, but God can and does work through us, not because he has to but because he wants to. What is the answer? I believe the answer lies in becoming people of prayer: daily seeking God and trying to discern his will. God pours out all so that we can have relationship with him. May we more and more grasp this and become people in tune with the heartbeat of God, responding to the leading of his Holy Spirit, and be people who can distinguish between what is of man and what proceeds from the heart of our Father God.

Precious gifts

2008-06-23T21:50:00.003+01:00

My wife Toni came back from her final placement in Cambridge on Saturday. Tonight she has gone out for a meal with her tutors and coursemates. I decided that I would re-read one of the books that I have on my shelf about priesthood (The Fire and the Clay by George Guiver et al. if you're interested). I decided to have a break and take a short walk along part of Lancaster Canal. I came across a group of people drinking, which is always a bit frightening but my usual strategy is to acknowledge people and say hello.

One of them asked me if I could give him a fiver. I said that I didn't have any money on me(which was true) and he then asked if he could give me something. I just said that he could if he wanted to at which he reached into his pocket and gave me a coin. It was a quarter of an American dollar from the year 1972. Obviously, it was of no real use to him over here and I did wonder where he got it. He gave it to me and asked me to do something with it and remember that a homeless man gave it to me. I found out that his name was Mark. They then asked me which football team I supported and I said I didn't. They then asked who I would if I did and I said it would have to be a Bristol team being from Bristol. I then carried on on my way.

It occurred to me that you can spend ages reading books about priesthood and churchy stuff and for the whole thing to become rather intellectual and unreal. I am afraid that I can't say that I tried to minister to them and preach the Gospel; I am not even sure that that was what I was called to do at that time or if it would have been welcome.

Before I leave Lancaster to go to Cambridge for my Ordination training, I am sure that I will receive many gifts and good wishes from people but I doubt that any will mean as much as this coin. I plan to keep hold of the coin and perhaps always have it on my desk during training and in my future ministry. It will always remind me of this homeless man in Lancaster whose name was Mark, and I will always pray for him and for the homeless when I see it. It will also serve as a reminder to remember the homeless and the marginalized and perhaps also serve as a call from the Lord to get my hands dirty sometimes. I wonder if it will also serve me well as a visual aid for a sermon.

Today I feel as though I received perhaps the most precious gift that I have ever or will ever receive.

Tuesday, June 10 2008

2008-06-10T21:31:00.002+01:00

I couldn't think of a more imaginative title, partly because I don't really know what I am going to write about. I am currently watching Sweden v. Greece. I think that I want Sweden to win, but I am not sure why. Perhaps it is because they are nearer to England than Greece? I then plan to watch Big Brother. It is sad I know, but I quite enjoy it.

In some ways, it feels as though I have a lot more free time now that I have no more PTE to do. There are a couple of books that I want to read but part of me feels that I would actually like to have a bit of a rest and enjoy these early moments of rejoicing and not dampen that with more reading. The other part of me wants to do some more reading and keep my mind engaged with vocational stuff.

I have started to wonder what kind of priest I am going to be. I don't mean whether I will be a good one or a bad one, but rather I mean what context I will be in. A lot of people imagine me being in a village somewhere where I know everybody and everybody knows me. The idea does appeal but I fear that it may be the idyll rather than the reality that really appeals. Mike said that he could imagine me being a priest in some kind of difficult estate. This might be because I like to call a spade a bloody shovel – or something like that. The estate idea might fit more with my experience of growing up in the east of Bristol. Although it wasn't a real 'estate' as such, it was a strongly working-class sort of area. Being in a village is not something that is part of my experience and so I wonder whether the experience might be a little foreign. I have always lived in a city and there is something that I quite like about that. At the same time, I would prefer to be somewhere that has more of a community sort of feel. All of the above options (apart from, at least stereotypically, city centres) can often have that, but of course don't always. [I missed the Sweden goal as I was typing! Damn you blog! Thank you Lord for replays!] I have sometimes wondered whether I would like to work in a hospital or hospice chaplaincy. I don't really have any experience of that so I might explore the possibility of such a placement at College. Although the prospect seems a lot closer now, the reality of this sort of decision is a long way off. I am sure that my thoughts will become clearer through my training and curacy. [I caught the second Sweden goal this time! Wow! Two goals in 5 minutes!] I don't think I would like to be an HE chaplain. I enjoyed the experience of being an HE chaplaincy assistant and learnt a lot but I am not sure whether I see myself in that kind of role.

I have always loved Jeremiah 29:11. (You can look it up yourselves.) It is often translated as 'I know the plans...' but 'thoughts' is a more literal rendering of the Hebrew and is thus translated in the King James Version. There is something infinitely more poetic about 'thoughts' rather than 'plans'. 'Plans' to me seems too prescriptive as though God has dictated every event, job etc. 'Thoughts' seems to suggest rather 'ideas' in which there is a lot more freedom for me or God to change our minds. 'Thoughts' also seems less about the details of my life and more about the experience of life, and being loved and cherished by God. That God should even think of me is something that I find overwhelming. (See Psalm 8.) I wonder what kind of ministry God thinks I will be in – what he is thinking about towards me. It is at times like this that I fancy lighting a candle and sitting in silence before God to see if I can hear his voice: less about actually seeking to hear because that would frighten me, but more about the seeking of God. I might do that, after Big Brother of course.

Some Reflections

2008-06-09T22:37:00.001+01:00

I had a day off today, which I always appreciate. I got up quite late and went to Mass at lunchtime. There seem to be a lot of changes at the moment. Our new curate is going to be ordained priest at the end of this month. Our other curate is going to take up a post as priest-in-charge somewhere near Leeds. I am, as you know, preparing to move to Cambridge.

I had a lovely lunch with my former boss, and I like to say friend Mike. It was nice to catch up with him. I then came home and filled in the form that I need to send to Ministry Division in London for my training grant. I have also written to Westcott House to confirm that I have met the requirements of my Pre-theological Education and will definitely be taking up my place. I have also arranged to have three removal quotations for my move to Cambridge. Thankfully, the Diocese will pay for it so that is one less worry.

I keep reading the booklet that accompanied the Pre-theological Education and find it interesting to do so having now met the requirements. For the last year, I have had PTE hanging over my mind and now it is gone. I can look completely forward with nothing standing in my way.

I keep wondering what next year will bring. Westcott House is a very picturesque setting in which to do my Ordination Training and so I am looking forward to spending time in the lovely grounds and walking around the little cloister on the way to Chapel. I wonder what it will be like. I wonder how well I will get on with the other ordinands. I wonder how I will get on with the ordinands in the other theological colleges. I wonder how I will find the placements that I will have to do and I wonder how I will get on with full-time study.

Meanwhile, my wife has a job interview at a school in Cambridge and I am praying that she would do well in her interview. I keep praying that she will find a job because although it will mean that we will have a bit more money, it will also be good for her to be busy with teaching and have her own thing to do rather than being stuck in a theological college, when she is not the one that really has chosen to be there. I hope that she will get on well with the other ordinands' spouses, and find support there because I am sure she will need support as much as I will as the ordinand. In some ways, I think that she will need more support that I will because I have chosen to be there and am doing what I feel that God has called me to do there. She is there because she is my wife and is supporting me in my pursuit of my vocation and since we first got together she has known that this was what I felt called to do. She has basically agreed to uproot herself and accompany me to Cambridge and then again for my curacy and when I look for my own parish/chaplaincy. I think that I am only just starting to appreciate the magnitude of this and I am so grateful to her. Maybe I ought to tell her this.

I wonder how many days it is until we move!

Sermon for Sunday evening

2008-06-07T19:00:00.002+01:00

The Second Sunday After Trinity

Lancaster Priory Evensong
June 8, 2008

Lectionary Readings
Psalm 41
1 Samuel 18.1-16
Luke 8:41-end

Our passages tonight speak to us of the limitless outpouring of love: a life-giving love that gives us the abundant life that Jesus came to give us. This is a pure and undefiled love, with nothing of self-interest. It is a love that gives all and withholds nothing. I look sometimes at the way that I love and realise how far from this it is. Are my motives purely selfless? Perhaps you'll allow me to change that to 'our'. Are our motives purely selfless? Do we live a life that gives all and seeks nothing?

Our Old Testament lesson features the story of Jonathan and David in which we read of Jonathan loving David more than his own soul. He removed his robes and gave them to David. Let us not forget that the robes were a symbol of who he was: a symbol of his position and status. This was a way of saying, "I give everything to you and hold nothing back." The story is often given 'tabloid' treatment. Is this because we struggle to get our minds around the idea of a love that is absolutely pure and undefiled by selfish motives or desires? What does it mean to love somebody more than one's own soul? May the Lord help us to learn more about this! Perhaps our New Testament lesson can shed a little light on this question.

So many times I have read this reading and thought to myself: 'Oh yeah. Woman bleeding for many years. Healed by Jesus.' Sometimes, we can know a story so well that we lose the whole meaning behind it. Let's try to look at it in order. Jesus is begged by Jairus to heal his daughter. Jairus is a leader of the synagogue: a very important person in the community. He lays aside all status, risks losing the respect of the community by begging the itinerant preacher from Nazareth, who let's face it is becoming a bit of a trouble maker.

'How inappropriate!' This is what some of his fellow leaders may have said, or at least thought. He acts, flying in the face of this because he loves his daughter more than anything, maybe even more than his own soul. Jesus duly obliges and his disciples follow. Then we come to the bleeding woman who, unlike Jairus, doesn't have a name. She has suffered for twelve years with bleeding. This bleeding makes her unclean and she is thus excluded from the worship of the Temple. Every one she touches becomes unclean. Every thing she touches becomes unclean and every person who touches those things is also unclean. She is condemned to a life of exclusion, anonymity, and, I would imagine, immense sadness and grief and dare I say it desperateness.

Then comes Jesus. She has heard of his reputation for healing. She knows that God is obviously with him and working through him. She may even have recognised the Divine in his very being. But she cannot come near to him; she certainly cannot touch him. She knows that he would not even give her the time of day. She is quite literally an untouchable. But she thinks to herself: 'If I can only touch the hem of his garment, I will be healed'. She reaches out.

'How inappropriate!' She who is ritually unclean has reached out and actually touched the Divine. Jesus stops. 'Who touched me?' The disciples, astounded by the request of Jairus and not wanting to offend such an important person, try to move Jesus on. 'Master, there are people all around.' Jesus persists. I think he knew who touched him. I believe that this was less about needing to know and more about giving an outcast a voice. 'Daughter, your faith has made you well.' He has established a relationship with her; he has given her an identity and a sense of belonging. This making 'well' was not just about a physical healing: it was about humanity restored. The outcast dares to reach out to the Divine and the result is not to be condemned, but to be made whole: to have restored to her that which society had taken away. She had suffered for twelve years and while she receives her healing, the news comes that Jairus' daughter who is about twelve years old has died. Life is taken from the clean and given to the unclean. Society is turned upon its head. Jairus must come to terms with this. However, Jesus then goes to bring his daughter to life. I don't know what happened to Jairus afterwards but I am sure that his life was never the same again.

Who are the people that we exclude? Children? Teenagers? People of other faiths? Homosexuals? The homeless? Drug addicts? We assume that they cannot or should not reach out and touch the Divine and remove from them the very thing that could bring new life to them. What of ourselves? Do we have everything nicely together? Are we sorted, thank you very much, by ourselves? Have we given back the pearl of great price so that we can keep hold of our lovely, safe and comfortable lives? Are we prepared to be humiliated in order to reach out for that which we truly need?

Go on! Reach out! You will not be disappointed!

WHEN WORDS FAIL

2008-06-06T22:07:00.002+01:00

How do I put into words how I feel after getting the letter from my Bishop telling me that I have met the conditions from my BAP last year? My colleague at work and I were talking about it this morning at work. We were saying that it was hard to think of a comparable situation. It is something more than getting a job you want. Is it like the feeling that we imagine an astronaut might get on being told that they are going to be a part of the next mission into space?

I cannot think of anything else that compares with this feeling. To me, my vocation to ordained ministry is much more about the person I believe that I have been created to be. Since the age of 14, I have felt that perhaps God might be calling me to ordained ministry. When I had dropped out of University at 20, I began to get a feeling that I wanted to work for the Church. At 24, I realised that I wanted to be a vicar when, in a session on a discipleship course, we were asked to list our top ambitions. Mine were to be a father and to be a vicar. I didn't even think about writing them but I suddenly realised that it was true: I wanted to be a priest. It wasn't even a case of wanting to be a priest. It was more that I felt that that was who I was called to be: who I was in fact. I talked to my vicar at the time who was positive about it but nothing happened for over a year, which was when I started to work for the Chaplaincy and my contact with the Diocese began once I took that post. Then, of course, I went to my first selection conference at which I was not recommended for ministry. Can you imagine what a huge knock-back that was? My Bishop told me that I should be encouraged and try again and two years later I did. Then I was conditionally recommended and had pre-theological education to do this year. Then came the moderation interview when somebody had the task of deciding whether or not I had met my conditions. And now finally, I have been fully recommended and my Bishop has written to me say that I may now commence my 'formation' at theological college in Cambridge. WOW!

When I think about it, it has been 6 years to get to this point. 6 years of uncertainty about who I am. Yes, I do see priesthood as being identity: who I am in the context of the Body of Christ (the Church, not the Sacrament). It is how I fit in. Had I not been recommended, I might have had to face the possibility that I had got it wrong. Then I would have had to start again. I have spent 6 years saying that I believe that I am called to be a priest. I have had to use phrases such as 'if I get through selection' or 'if I pass my moderation'. Now, I can finally say that I am called to be a priest. Of course, I have to pass my degree during training and satisfy the College, but in a lot of ways, it feels as though the biggest hurdle has been jumped over. The Church of England is going to invest a lot of money to train me to be a priest, which is a very reassuring sign. The Church believes that I am called to be a priest and should be trained.

I hope that all that waffle has helped to give an insight into the way that my brain is functioning at the moment. If anybody out there can help me put into words how this feels, then do please comment on this thread and tell me. I reserve the right to disagree however.

It’s official!

2008-06-05T20:00:00.002+01:00

I received the letter today from the Bishop of Blackburn confirming that I have now met the conditions put on my recommendation at my BAP last year and that I may now proceed to training. I am DEFINITELY going to Cambridge in September. I am now a fully recommended ordinand.

I am filled with immense joy! It feels as though what I have been hoping for and praying about has now come to pass. I am going to theological college to train to be a priest, and assuming that the training goes well, I will one day be a priest in the Church of England. My wait is over! Just 3 months left and I will be moving to Cambridge and a new and exciting chapter of my life will begin.

I thought you might like to know.

Some random thoughts in no particular order

2008-05-07T22:43:00.001+01:00

Again, it has been a very long time since I have posted on my blog so I thought that I would try to post, in brief (or not), some of the reflections that I have been thinking about recently. The thoughts might seem random and the order of them certainly is.

My wife

My wife is currently on her final teaching placement in Cambridge and so we are separated (geographically not relationally) for another 6 (?) weeks I think. She has already been away for two and a half weeks. I spent the first couple of days cleaning and tidying our little flat and basically doing anything that wasn't sitting around on my own. I suspect that what was really going on was that I didn't want to stop doing things so that I wouldn't really feel that my wife and I are apart at this time, basically distracting myself from what I was really feeling. Yes, I do miss my wife. She came to stay last weekend and so it was lovely, of course, to see her. I realised that I do like to be on my own sometimes and have some peace and quiet, and I like to do things in my particular way. When she is here, we have to find a way of living together and finding a joint understanding on how we do things. You lose, or perhaps 'willingly surrender' might be a better way of putting it, your freedom to do things exactly as you would like to do them but what you gain is immeasurably greater than that which you surrender. I realised that I could spend my life on my own doing my own things to a certain degree but then I realise that I would rather surrender that in order to have human company, and especially the company of my wife. There comes a time in the evening when cuddling up on the sofa is quite nice and actually I have come to love having somebody to cuddle and say goodnight to in bed. It doesn't quite feel the same to go to bed without it.

The utter randomness of life

I began to be quite struck the other day by just how random life is. So much about my life, and perhaps life in general, just seems so random. It is quite tempting to try to find answers to all these things and to try to understand and rationalize them but I think it has just occurred to me that things are sometimes just random. I could have lots of questions:

Why was I born:
- into a working class family (as opposed to middle or upper);
- in the last year of the seventies (as opposed to any other time in history);
- in the east of Bristol (as opposed to anywhere else in the whole world)?
Why was I exceptionally able to learn foreign languages and grasp the concepts of language at such an early age?
Why was I gifted in music as well?
Related to the above, why is it that I always preferred Classical (read 'everything from Mediaeval to Contemporary but particularly the period between Renaissance to Classical') to everything else?
Why, at the age of 10, did I feel completely at home in a fairly 'boring' middle-of-the-road Anglican Church and yet my brother didn't?
Why, at the age of 14, did I start to feel that I might be called to be a priest?
Why is it that Lancaster seemed like exactly the right place for me to live?

I have long since given up actually trying to find answers to explain all these things: the result of trying before was depression! I can understand and appreciate how all these things have made me the person that I am today. I used to try to pretend that I was somebody other than who I am, but again the result was depression and an overwhelming sense of things not being as they should. More recently, I have come to appreciate all the random circumstances of my life as different threads of the tapestry that is my life. I do believe that some of the circumstances are random but by random I don't mean meaningless for that would belittle everything that has made (and is making) me 'me', and would belittle the relationships that I have with all the people I know. I am grateful for all the experiences of my life (even the unpleasant ones that I would rather not have had) and all the people that are (or have been) part of my life and make me the person I am. I am grateful to God for leading me through all the good and all the bad times. I am grateful that God has called me to ordained ministry and I am grateful for my wife. I have an overwhelming sense of 'being led' in life, but also free to choose at the same time. I suppose that I am overwhelmed at some the mysteries of life, and the fact that every single word, event, action has some kind of consequence. I suppose that I would sum this up with the following words: random in reason, far from random in consequence. Each day, and each moment, we are faced a lot of random encounters and experiences and there are a million possible consequences that depend on our actions, or rather reactions.

Right, enough randomness! Thank you for your attention.

Getting there – more waiting: what a surprise!

2008-04-16T22:11:00.002+01:00

I had a meeting on Monday with John Darch who is the Director of Ordinands for Blackburn Diocese and I showed him my PTE [Pre-theological Education] portfolio. He said it was looking good. I have sent him all the files that are included so that he can read them at his leisure and then he will get back to me and make any suggestions. If he thinks that there is enough in it, he will then write a report to be included in the file to which I will have to respond. At that point, I will be able to arrange my moderation interview, at which point the decision will be made as to whether or not I have met the conditions set at my BAP [Bishops' Advisory Panel].

So, there is in reality not too much longer to wait. I am nearly there, but that is perhaps what is making it more frustrating. Then I can finally ask the Church of England for some money (PLEASE!) for my training etc. I hope that everything goes well and that I will finally be able to go and do my training.

There is verse in the Bible somewhere about waiting upon the Lord, something about eagles. [OK! It is Isaiah 40:31 – just to prove that I know, but at least I am leaving you to look it up!]

Long time, no blog.

2008-04-14T22:16:00.001+01:00

Once again, it has been ages since I have posted on this blog. I observe however from Google Analytics that I am still getting several visits per day so there must still be quite a few people interested in some of my previous posts which is reassuring. I have been rather busy putting together material for my Pre-theological Education portfolio. I am not really a portfolio type of person – too open-ended and vague in requirements. I think I am more of an exam and essay type of person where the expectations are much clearer. Still, I think it is nearly done and I have e-mailed all the files off to my DDO for checking and he will either tell me of more things to put in, or some things to remove, or he will say that all is good and give a report to include to which I will have to respond and then I will have moderation interview to decide whether I have met my conditions. If you found that sentence too long, perhaps you can relate to how I am feeling at the moment.

I preached on Sunday 6^th April but I have not posted the sermon text because I preached without text or notes. It was the first time that I had done it and I got Toni to video the sermon. Having watched it, I am quite pleased – all things considered. I might eventually settle on the middle ground of bullet points but I am glad that I did it. The response was very positive and I seemed to get more congregational interaction which was good. There is classic moment where in the middle of the sermon I shout "Alleluia! Christ is risen!" and get a bland response so I make them do it again – you know that sort of cheesy sermon type thing but everybody played along. I also prophetically threw my copy of God is dead by Steve Bruce across the Church. Somebody told me afterwards that they wanted to applaud and I said that they should have done. What is about 1662 Choral Evensong that makes people feel as though they cannot respond? I will stop there before I start ranting about the BCP! (I do love it some ways – I just find it frustrating!)

Well, hopefully, I will blog again soon. When I have time, I will transcribe the sermon from 6/4.

Confíteor Deo omnipoténti

2008-03-08T23:02:00.002Z

I have been thinking about Confession (or the Sacrament of Reconciliation) and perhaps confession of sins in general quite a lot recently. I had a conversation with our new Curate about the Sacrament of Reconciliation a couple of weeks ago, it not being part of her Church background. I have also been reflecting a lot during Lent about sin and temptation, and seem to be more aware of my sins. I realise that it is a bit of a theological and ecclesiological minefield and it is with great fear and trepidation that I post on this subject.

I have been in several Church traditions even within the Church of England: starting with a 'middle-of-the-road' Church at home in Bristol, then a charismatic evangelical Church in Lancaster, and finally an Anglo-Catholic (liberal) Church in Lancaster. This means that I have had several different and sometimes (but not always) conflicting forms of teaching on things like the confession of sins. The Church that I currently attend does not have a regular 'Confessions' slot on Saturday evening; neither is there a lot of preaching encouraging us to avail ourselves of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Once a year (on Holy Saturday) is Reconciliation offered, and I have done it twice in the last three years (I think I was away for one of them and I think I will be working this year and so I will not be able to make it). I am sure that it would be offered 'by appointment' but I am not sure how welcome this would be.

So the Sacrament of Reconciliation is not something that has been a large part of my spirituality, but in recent years I have felt as though I want it to be. However, I still have a certain sense of uneasiness. I suppose that this is because of so much exposure to a theology of sin and confession that says that we have no need of 'mediators': we can confess our sins directly to God and receive forgiveness directly from God. I do still believe that this is true but somehow there seems to be something missing. I know, of course, that when Jesus died on the cross the curtain in the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. I know that Jesus is still interceding to the Father on our behalf.

Unfortunately, the sacrament of Reconciliation always seems to receive a bad press. It is quite interesting to hear people talk as though the modern Roman Catholic practice had existed since the time of Christ; and it is equally interesting to hear people talk as though all confession is either evil or ridiculous. I remember, with some laughter, watching Angela's Ashes and the scene where Frank makes his first Confession. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession. I hit my brother; I told a lie..." and so on. [I paraphrase: apologies to the more pedantic among you if I have unintentionally misquoted.] This seemed to show a fairly negative view of confession, where people are forced to make a confession before they can receive the Sacrament of Holy Communion and where people seem to list the most trivial things without any genuine contrition. Clearly what probably started with all the best intentions had become corrupted to a mechanistic, empty going through the motions.

It is interesting to read about the sacrifices made in the Old Testament, and particularly to read about the scapegoat on Yom Kippur. Even in early Christian times, there was quite a lot of concern about what should happen if people after their baptism committed sin. There is quite good description of the development of reconciliation in Chapter 8 of A Companion to COMMON WORSHIP, volume 2 edited by Paul Bradshaw (London: SPCK, 2006). It is interesting to read of traditions of only one confession in a lifetime, to rather horrific (from a modern perspective) processes of repentance, to the abuses of the Middle Ages, right through the Reformation to today. Clearly the whole process of contrition, repentance and forgiveness has undergone great changes in the Church's life and we should take the whole development quite seriously.

In the Book of Common Prayer, in the Communion liturgy, the priest reads the following words:

And because it is requisite, that no man should come to the holy Communion, but with a full trust in God's mercy, and with a quiet conscience; therefore if there be any of you, who by this means cannot quiet his own conscience herein, but requireth further comfort or counsel, let him come to me, or to some other discreet and learned Minister of God's Word, and open his grief; that by the ministry of God's holy Word he may receive the benefit of absolution, together with ghostly counsel and advice, to the quieting of his conscience, and avoiding of all scruple and doubtfulness.

This, for me, sums it up quite well. I don't think that I can accept a view of the Sacrament of Reconciliation that says that I have to confess my sins to a priest before I can receive Holy Communion any more than I could accept a view that said that it was wrong or foolish to make confession to a priest.

I preached last Sunday evening. One of the readings was James 5, which encourages us to confess our sins to each other. I think that for me I would like to make Confession a more regular part of my discipleship. I think I need that accountability; I need to talk to somebody about the oh so secret sins that I struggle with, and to be challenged and held accountable. And who better to do that to than a priest? If nothing else, at least they are bound to confidentiality. It is nice that Common Worship: Initiation Services has a form for the reconciliation of a penitent printed in it.

So, I think I will make Confession a regular part of my discipleship and as I continue to think about my (possible) future ministry as a priest, it is certainly something that I would want to make available.

My day off.

2008-03-03T20:40:00.003Z

Well, the morning started by watching the Jeremy Kyle show. It is bizarre to watch what some people are like. It always seems to put my life and problems into perspective. Then I went to the dentist to sort out my broken tooth. He said I would need root canal treatment but it would have cost £140 or so whereas it was only £43 to extract the tooth so I am now one tooth down, due to the restrictions of my wallet.

I then went to Mass with a numb mouth, managed to negotiate the chalice though. Then I came home to do some reading. Currently reading Theology: A Very Short Introduction by David F. Ford. It is quite an interesting book and is certainly whetting my appetite for College.

I then got fed up of being inside so I went for a walk up to Williamson Park. I sat on the sundial mound and looked out over Lancaster and Morecambe and some of the mountains/hills of the Lake District. I couldn't help saying a quick prayer while I was there. I think I just needed to find that quiet place, I might do it more often.

Sermon for Lent 4 Evensong

2008-03-02T22:44:00.001Z

Here is the text of my latest sermon.

2nd March 2008 – 4th Sunday of Lent – Lancaster Priory Evensong
Readings:
Psalm 31:1-16
Prayer of Manasseh
James 5

Yes, I did. Yes, I did send my mother a mothers’ day card. Well, Toni sent it for me. The Church of England provides readings and other resources for use at the ‘Principal Service’ on Mothers’ Day but for the evenings we are straight back to Lent: no special Collect and no special readings. So back to Lent we go.

This year, I am finding Lent a bit tough: not because I have given up biscuits, but rather because the responses and readings that I have been reading when I have got up in time to say Morning Prayer all seem a little miserable. ‘In the darkness of our sin’, ‘mercifully grant, that we, walking in the way of the cross’, and other such phrases are beginning to take their toll. The more I try to put my life in order, the more I find that I have so much more work to do. I still snap at my wife, I still tell rude jokes and other such things that I keep trying not to do anymore. Perhaps I am being a little too critical of myself, but the more I read the readings set for Lent and the collects, the more I realise how far I am from where I want to be, and from where I believe God wants me to be.

The first lesson for this evening was the Prayer of Manasseh. Manasseh was the King of Judah: the son of King Hezekiah who had rid Judah of its idolatry and restored the worship of the Temple. Manasseh rebuilt the pagan altars and was responsible for bringing back much idolatry in Judah. He was captured and bound in fetters by the King of Assyria. He repented and was allowed back to Jerusalem. The Prayer of Manasseh is thought to be how he prayed in repentance to the Lord. The story of Manasseh is found in 2 Chronicles 33 and 2 Kings 21.

His prayer, found in the Apocrypha, is also the canticle set between the readings at Morning Prayer during Lent in Common Worship: Daily Prayer. I have got quite used to saying it now and some of the phrases seem quite natural and roll of the tongue. ‘The sins I have committed against you are more in number than the sands of the sea. I am not worthy to look up to the height of heaven, because of the multitude of my iniquities.’ Every morning, I read this and sometimes feel weighed down when I look at my own sin. ‘And now I bend the knee of my heart before you, imploring your kindness upon me.’ The version of the reading in Morning Prayer is cut slightly but it goes on to say, in the full version, ‘unworthy as I am, you will save me according to your great mercy, and I will praise you continually all the days of my life.’ Part of me wishes that we could fast forward to Easter, but I remember that Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness and this makes me want to continue to observe the season, so I persevere.

Oscar Wilde, in Lady Windermere’s Fan, wrote: ‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.’ We are all in the same boat. I am sure we can all think of many ways in which we fall short, and it is all too easy to become despondent because of it. The answer lies not in becoming miserable, but in looking up: not to the stars, although that might give us a sense of perspective; but to Jesus, who has walked this path before us. It is Jesus who took on flesh that we might receive life, who died that our sins might be forgiven and who rose from the dead that we might know that in him we have victory.

This is why James, in our second lesson, gives such serious warning to those who store up for themselves treasures on earth, by defrauding workers. This is why there is such encouragement to those who suffer, and above all, this is why we are given such strong encouragement to pray in our sufferings, to pray for the sick and to confess our sins, knowing that God is faithful and will forgive us, if we truly repent. James encourages us to have faith that the sufferings we go through are not for ever, and to keep our eyes on Jesus, remembering that he has promised to return to take us to the place that he has prepared for us. At the same time, James’ message is “not long now” (until Jesus returns) but also “it is not too late”. It is not too late to put things straight, to return to the Lord. If there is a particular sin that is making you feel guilty, it is not too late to confess it, and make amends. If you have stumbled in your Lenten discipline, it is not too late to start again.

As Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness, being tempted, and perhaps ‘facing his demons’, so may we walk where he walked, and allow God, by his Holy Spirit and through Jesus Christ, to wash away our sins and bring us new life.

And so let us continue faithfully to keep this season of Lent. Let us walk with Christ, ‘facing our demons’, confessing our sins, and if we feel that we are in the gutter, let us not forget to look up. As we look at the stars, let us read Psalm 8: ‘When I consider the heavens, the work of your hands, what is man that you are mindful of him?’ As we look to Jesus, let us know that he journeys with us, and that it is only three more weeks until we will once again celebrate, with exuberant joy, and share in the victory of his Resurrection.

The Archbishop’s lecture on shari’a law.

2008-02-11T15:53:00.001Z

Well said Archbishop.

I do wish that the media in this country would read things properly!

Sermon for Lent 1 Evensong

2008-02-10T23:10:00.001Z

This is the text of the sermon that I preached this evening.

10^th January 2008 – 1^st Sunday of Lent – Lancaster Priory Evensong

Readings:

Psalm 50: 1-15

Deuteronomy 6:4-9, 16-end

Luke 15: 1-10

Here we are again in Lent. We have celebrated Christmas, Epiphany and Candlemas and after just two days of "ordinary time" to recover, we find ourselves in the season of Lent: the joy of Christmas and the revelation of Christ to the world followed immediately by a season of repentance, beginning with the mark of Ash that we received on Wednesday as a sign of our repentance.

In previous years, I have not been very good at observing Lent. Lots of my friends were giving things up: probably more non-Christians than Christians, which added an extra bit of guilt for me! I suppose that if we did a survey of what people know about Lent, the most popular answer would probably be related to giving things up, some might even talk about 40 days. For a long time, I had the same idea: that Lent was about giving up. Our forty days, excluding Sundays, represent the forty days that our Lord spent in the wilderness fasting, and during which he was 'tempted by Satan'. Having celebrated the Incarnation of our Lord, the visit of the Magi, his baptism and presentation, we now turn our attention to his Passion and Resurrection.

And so here we are, having just entered into this season of repentance and it seems hard to do so without thinking about the things that are not as they should be in our lives. It is hard to begin this season without mentioning words like 'sin' and 'judgement', and these are not things that we like to talk about, or hear about, let alone write sermons about, at least in my case anyway, but they are both ideas that lie at the very centre of our faith. There is, after all, no grace and mercy without sin and judgement. However much or little we like to use words like 'sin' or 'judgement', if at all, I am sure that a lot of us can relate to a sense of things not quite being as they should be. I believe that this is part of our human condition. It isn't, I believe, about walking around tearing our garments because we are so sinful and horrible, but rather I believe it is about acknowledging our weakness, and resolving to try to put things right. One of my favourite hymns is Father of heaven, whose love profound which has the line in each verse: 'Before thy throne we sinners bend'. One of my friends thought I was a bit weird and I tried, rather unsuccessfully to explain why I liked it. I feel a great sense of God's holiness when I worship in this building, and alongside that is a sense of my own sinfulness; in spite of this, I feel the call of the Lord calling me into his presence and my reaction is to want to bow before his throne. It is not that I am getting miserable or have self-esteem problems: it is more that here I have what I believe to be a true sense of who I am and a sense of God's irresistible call to come into his presence. That our holy God calls me, and all of us, into his presence is beyond my ability to fathom and all I can say is 'just as I am, without on plea...O Lamb of God, I come.'

Our Old Testament reading reaches into the very heart of the matter. 'Sh'ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheynu, Adonai echad': 'Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone and you will love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and with all your strength'. This was at the very foundation of Jewish life and this is recited every morning and evening by Orthodox Jews, and taught to children's children for all generations. This is who God has revealed himself to be and this is the inheritance into which we have been drawn in Christ. This is the benchmark on which we can and must truly assess our lives. If we are honest, we will probably all find that we have not allowed God to be number 1 in our lives, that we have not allowed God to be God.

But the story doesn't end there. Our New Testament reading reminds us that whenever one sheep goes astray, the shepherd goes after it, and a woman losing a coin sweeps the whole house until it is again found. Whenever we stray, Jesus is right there calling us back. Our instinct is sometimes to hide away or pretend that we are okay but if we allow God to God, we realise that we are not okay and that he is gently and lovingly calling us back. How wonderful to think that God would go to all this effort for me, for us, and for all people! 'But I have done x' – God calls us back. 'But I have done y' – God calls us back. There is no sin so bad that God is not right there calling us back to him.

This is I believe what Lent is all about. It is about reassessing our lives, and allowing God to take his rightful place in our lives. Lent is typically about giving things up, and we often give things up and it is right and meet so to do. Perhaps, for us, it might also be about replacing those things we give up with positive things. Perhaps this Lent could be a time when we recommit to our daily prayers, to reading of Scripture. Perhaps we might commit ourselves, at the end of each day or week, to asking ourselves honestly: 'This day/week, have I loved the Lord my God with all my heart, soul and strength?' Alongside this, we might also ask: 'Have I loved my neighbour as myself?' And if we find that we have strayed, let us hear the voice of Christ calling us back, and may we really allow this Lent to be a time of honest assessment, and may we find a renewed joy when at the end of Lent and Holy Week, we once again celebrate the victory that was, or rather is, Christ's Resurrection.

And now we stand to sing hymn number 421 – Father of Heaven.

Lent 1

2008-02-10T22:58:00.001Z

Carried on my Church visits this morning, less impressed with the Church I visited. I suppose that is the point of the visits: to look at other Churches and see what I don't like and try to figure out why I don't like it. It also challenges me to think outside of some of my boxes. I might not like a certain way of doing something but I might like the effect or product of it. I have a lot more Churches to visit but already I have found it interesting to see that no one style of Church (even my own) is perfect but if we could realize a combination of different models of Church, then the Church would be in a very different position.

So far so good with the biscuit fast, although there has been some debate about whether Jaffa Cakes are biscuits or cakes! I still maintain that they are cakes, but I will abstain from this point on just in case. Any thoughts on the ontology of Jaffa Cakes would be appreciated! Giving something up, combined with being careful to say Morning and Evening Prayer every day has so far given this Lent a very penitential feel and so far it is meaning a great deal to me.

I preached at Evensong tonight. This was different because I had to give some feedback forms to the congregation. All the feedback was very positive and very affirming for me. I even changed one of the hymns. It is surprising how easy things can be if you make a polite phone call to the Music Director! I think that I am definitely gaining confidence in preaching.

Ash Wednesday

2008-02-06T22:26:00.001Z

I went to Mass this evening for Ash Wednesday. I enjoyed the service and was on thurifer duty. I have always found Lent a bit strange: too many people obsessed with giving things up. I have never given anything up, but this year I have decided to give up biscuits; it might sound like something small but actually, it has proved hard work. I had never really realized how many biscuits I eat!

It might be obvious but the thought is occurring to me that it is not just about giving up things but about taking on positive things. I am sure that I have heard sermons on it before. However, some of them have been of the kind that try to get away from the idea of depriving yourself but this, to me, makes no sense when we think of the 40 days that Christ was in the wilderness. I suppose for my first time of giving something up, I ought to have chosen something fairly low-key really. When I fancy a biscuit, I might just take a few seconds to say a quick prayer, perhaps the Jesus prayer as that is quite short and says a lot in just a few words, and is in the spirit of Lent.

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Homeless service

2008-02-04T21:44:00.001Z

Yesterday, I went to an ecumenical service of prayer for the homeless and homeless projects that different churches in Lancaster are involved with. Fr Paul from my Church led the service and gave a tremendously challenging address.

He talked about the way that we often think about the mountain top experiences but forget the "down on the ground" experience of life. The main challenge was to engage with the struggles that different people live with in society, like the poor and homeless.

I must confess that I spent a lot of the service in tears because I was so moved by everything that Fr Paul and others shared at the service. I ended up feeling a little guilty that I have spent so much time walking around thinking about what it means to be a priest, and thinking about the training that I am going to do, and even thinking about the relative financial comfort that I will have as a priest (at least compared to where I am now). I suddenly became aware that I had been walking around with my eyes closed. I have spent a lot of time thinking about the prospect of preaching, celebrating the Mass, and even visiting the sick but I was suddenly aware that I was forgetting the responsibility of the Church to engage with the homeless, with the poor and marginalized. I suppose that in a lot of ways I have been a victim of a Church that is used to being respectable and (probably) predominantly middle-class.

I was also aware of the fact that I was asked to help with the homeless project that my Church operates. To be honest, I seem to be involved in that many things and have that many things to do in my pre-theological education, not to mention, spending some time with my wife.

I wonder if these are the beginnings of a stirring of a calling to get more involved in social action, something which I have thus far managed to avoid. I think that it is something that I am going to start praying about and see what happens. Please pray for me too.

Taizé service

2008-02-04T21:21:00.003Z

I went with Toni to a Taizé service at Christ Church (just around the corner), which is not our usual Church but I did a visit there as part of my pre-theological education in which I have to visit lots of local churches and do reading about different models of Church.

I am sure that Taizé isn't everybody's cup of tea but it is definitely mine. There were 8 of us there including Brenda who led the Eucharist. It was a lovely service and there was something about singing the chants that seemed to draw me into a real spiritual experience. There was something of complete holiness that seemed to draw me, a sense in which God spoke into my heart and said, "Come, my child."

Blackburn Diocese (my Diocese) is doing a pilgrimage to Taizé but I fear that I won't be able to make it this year. I am sure that I will one year, and I cannot wait!

Alb

2008-01-28T18:46:00.001Z

My alb arrived today so I thought I would put up a photograph of me wearing it (over my cassock with amice).

Mass

2008-01-26T22:00:00.001Z

As I was walking home this evening, the bell was ringing at the St Peter's Cathedral in Lancaster and so I thought I would go to the Mass (my first Catholic Mass in England). It was quite nice although they didn't give out any kind of service book with the liturgy in. Thankfully I knew most of the prayers, or at least had a vague memory of the Catholic confession prayer with reference to Mary and all the saints and angels. I must say that the whole experience was rather nice. It was quite hard not to be able to receive the Blessed Sacrament but neither could I stay in my seat and so I went forward for a blessing: probably the first time that I have ever done that. It really wasn't very different and I was warmly greeted by people afterwards who asked if I was a visitor or something. The only thing that could have improved the experience was being allowed to receive Communion. Ah well, I am glad that I went though!

The National Health Service

2008-01-23T17:12:00.001Z

I am very aware that it is very easy to jump on the old bandwagon and endlessly criticize the good old NHS, and so I don't really want to start moaning about it. After all, I am so grateful that I do not have to pay to see my doctor or pay to stay in hospital, not that I need to but Toni, my wife, would have already bankrupted us! Having spent three months in Kenya, where I did get ill once, I was very aware of the privilege of having a national health service.

Toni went into hospital for an operation last week. She was booked into the day care centre and was expected to be discharged the same day after a general anaesthetic. As it happens, she was so poorly on Thursday and Friday that was no prospect of her being discharged and in fact she was not discharged until Sunday morning. In my opinion, she should not have been discharged because she is still quite unsteady and feels dizzy and slightly disorientated whenever she moves. It turns out that she has an infection, which obviously isn't too serious and she has now been prescribed antibiotics. The thing is that the doctor we saw said that one of the three operations that she had was quite big. He said that he used to work as an anaesthetist and said that when he was working in hospital, somebody who had just had these procedures would have been kept in hospital for a week or two not a few days. Whenever I visited Toni in hospital, it felt as though the nurses were very eager to discharge patients as quickly as possible and they seemed less bothered to actually listen to how the patient is feeling. What is the radical change that means that people who would have been kept in hospital for a week or two are now expected to be discharged the same day? What is it that means that nurses and doctors in hospitals just don't seem to care anymore?

I am grateful for the NHS but I do wish that there was more discernible caring!

The last two weeks: funerals and hospitals.

2008-01-20T11:08:00.001Z

The last two weeks have been very hectic. On the 4^th January my landlord's daughter's partner died suddenly at the age of 36. Obviously, it was a tremendous shock to everyone, and the atmosphere in the house has been very 'heavy' for want of a different word. At the same time, the feeling of love and support has been huge and I consider myself privileged to have been able to share in some of that. Before working at St Martin's (now known by another inferior name), I lived with the family for three years and have moved back here with Toni until I go to Cambridge in September. They have always treated me as another part of the family, which has been really nice.

They asked me if I could do the funeral, which was something of a shock. I honestly didn't know the answer to the question, but after speaking to Debbie (the Curate at St Thomas' – the parish in which they lived) and my DDO (Diocesan Director of Ordinands), it was agreed that, in these circumstances, I could take the funeral. It just so happens that I bought a copy of Common Worship: Pastoral Services which contains the Anglican funeral service, so I was able to familiarize myself with the funeral service. I consider myself so privileged to have been able, in the time between Keith's death and the funeral, to spend time with his brother and partner and family talking with them, laughing with them, and allowing them a safe space in which to cry and laugh and all the other emotions.

I learnt a lot about funerals in being thrown into the deep end. The main lesson that I learnt is that the prayers, reading (etc.) that you think are the most suitable are likely to be useless and pastorally unwise. I had looked through the readings listed and suggested and chose one to suggest to the family, but of course, there was part of their story of which I was unaware and which made my suggestions unwise. In the end, I went through all the prayers in order that they might be prepared for what will be said at the funeral and we went through and changed bits (for pastoral reasons) and missed certain bits out. Thankfully, most of the Common Worship provision says things like 'This prayer may be said', which made me feel free to adapt them slightly. The reading that I had chosen wasn't a bad reading, but there was a part of it that hit a chord that I wasn't prepared for. In the end, Keith's twin brother Garry suddenly said that he remembered something about Mark 12; when we looked it up, we found the perfect reading and all agreed that it was the most suitable. 4 hours later, and after a few glasses of wine, we came up with a service with which everybody was happy.

There were no hymns at the service but 4 rock songs were played. It seemed so much more appropriate than having one or two hymns that nobody would sing along to. One of the songs was one that Keith's band released. It went to #11 in the charts and so it was quite significant.

I said that I would go to their house on the morning of the funeral to say some prayers with them in the house. Dressed in my cassock, I walked up the hill and went to their house. Gradually, members of the family and friends arrived and after some talking, I said some prayers with them and went home. It was interesting that, contrary to some people's opinions, being dressed in cassock didn't create any distance. What it did do, however, was give people (and myself) a sense of holiness and a sense in which the whole thing became a safe and holy place to which they could bring all their sadness, anger etc.

I arrived at the crematorium, and prayed in the vestry with Debbie (see above) and talked through the whole experience. I then went out to see crowds upon crowds of people. One person estimated that there were 300 people there: lots of friends and fellow rock musicians. It was quite scary but I took a deep breath and walked out to the front door, greeting people as I went. The car arrived and then the whole thing started. At the point when I saw the hearse carrying the coffin turn into the drive, I suddenly had such a feeling come over me of reassurance that I could get through it. So there I stood, cassock and cotta blowing wildly in the wind, met the family, walked in to a crematorium chapel which ended up being packed to the brim.

After the funeral, everybody (including the 100% atheists) told me how much they had been touched by the whole service and the words that I had shared, and none could believe it when Terry said that it was my first. For me, there was a great sense of affirmation. Perhaps, I can do this sort of stuff after all.

I was talking to Terry last night and said that I realised that it (the funeral) was not about me giving people a service to go through and trying to teach them something but was more about creating a sacred space in which they could be themselves and grieve as they needed to. Lots of people told me that this is what I did for them. One person actually thanked me for giving him permission to cry. Now that the funeral is over, I feel a great sense of release and a great sense of being humbled. To be the person asked to lead a service and hear people's stories and to be the person who creates that space is such a wonderful privilege and all I can say is, "Thanks be to God."

The funeral was last Friday and on Thursday Toni (my wife) went into hospital for an operation. The hospital wouldn't let me into the day care unit and she was moved to a ward when it was too late to visit and of course, I didn't get to see her until the funeral was over, between that and the pub. I feel as though I have neglected Toni with the funeral and all that but I have just picked her up from the hospital this morning and she is back home with me now.

So with a death, the funeral and a wife being in hospital it has been a hard two weeks. I have got through it and am now ready to carry on. Thanks be to God!

Sorry...

2008-01-11T21:27:00.000Z

There is a lot going on at the moment, and I am not sure that I have yet got to grips with everything enough to blog about them. I promise that I will do soon.

In the mean time, enjoy life, pray for each other and play nicely!

Kenya

2008-01-01T19:01:00.001Z

I was quite alarmed at the news of what is happening in Kenya. I was there four years ago and it was such a peaceful place. It is weird to see such violent reaction on the news. It was strange still as well to see the news reports speak of tribalism, reporting about the torching of a Church building where several Kikuyus (Mwai Kibaki’s tribe) were hiding. Perhaps the strangest thing for me was that I didn’t seem to hear anything about the elections happening, or anything of threats of violence and all of a sudden – BANG! – there they are on the screen of my television.

When I was in Kenya, the tribalism didn’t seem to be THAT much of an issue: it certainly didn’t seem to be much above banter, in the same way that we make jokes or have comic stereotypes of Geordies, Scousers, Cockneys etc… Having spent three months in Kenya, I was acutely aware of how “behind” things were in Kenya, but was surprised at how quickly I became used to it. I came to the point where I got annoyed at some of the preconceived ideas that we Westerners have about life in Africa, thinking that things weren’t as primitive as they thought, but this news has made me think otherwise. Kenya seems to have returned to primitive and ancient tribalism, where perhaps ancients feuds have been brought to life by an election.

I found in the Churches I went to in Kenya, a real effort to get past tribalism and tribal feuds and conflicts, with lots of teaching along the lines of “there is no Greek or Jew” or perhaps “no Kikuyu or Kamba, Baluhya or Jaluo”. Perhaps it is only during an election period when there is a chance that your tribe might gain power that these things come to the fore. I suppose it is hard when you sit over 2,000 miles away to relate to what is going on there. The issues are bound to me much more complicated than we can understand.
Please join me in praying for peace in Kenya.

2008-01-01T15:02:00.000Z

My wife was caught a bit unawares with this but gradually rose to the occasion.

Christmas dinner evolves!

This video shows my wife's military precision.

And finally, I have to carve the duck we had for Christmas Dinner. It had been de-boned and so I could just carve across the breast.

Christmas and New Year

2008-01-01T14:10:00.000Z

Well, New Year is here again! It is now 2008!

Christmas was nice. Toni and I managed to have a Christmas Dinner on our own. We had planned to do it last year but ended up being invited elsewhere. It was nice to have a Christmas Dinner on our own: quite a special moment. Toni planned everything to the last detail and presented me with a Christmas lunch which was perfection: she even got me a bottle of wine to drink. I had to have my Yorkshire Puddings on a separate plate for there was no room at the inn - sorry, on the plate.

Before that, Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, was wonderful. Toni and I both served in the Sanctuary. We had a team of 8 servers. Thurifer, Crufcifer, 2 acolytes and MC in the first procession which went before the Choir and then another crucifer and 2 acolytes behind the choir and before the clergy. It was lovely to have that extra bit of pomp and ceremony for the celebration of our Lord's Incarnation. We had all the priests linked to the Priory at the altar for a concelebrated Mass: visually quite stunning! The whole thing just served for me to make Christmas that extra bit more special.

Sermon for Sunday night - Advent 2 Evensong

2007-12-05T22:34:00.000Z

For those of you who might be interested, here is the text of the sermon that I am going to preach on Sunday evening at Lancaster Priory (6:30 Choral Evensong).

2nd Sunday of Advent – Lancaster Priory Evensong – December 9, 2007

Readings:
Psalm 11
1 Kings 18:17-39
John 1:19-28

Alleluia! Alleluia! The King is coming! Get ready! Get ready! The King is coming! This is the meaning of Advent, both in the context of preparing to celebrate the Incarnation of our Lord, and also in the context of preparing for his second coming. How ready are we? How ready are we for that great day? How often do we think about it? Alleluia! The King is coming!

This period of Advent sometimes gets lost in the commercial hype of this season and sometimes, if you’re anything like me, we forget to prepare ourselves spiritually: not only for Christmas, but also for the second coming of Christ.

For us, it could be a time when we allow ourselves the time and space to re-affirm our faith, and focus on making space, spiritual space, for God. If we seek, we will find. If we make time and space, God might become as real to us as he was to Elijah! We might grow in faith to such an extent that we can prepare our sacrifices and summon fire from heaven, and really, really believe that it will come. Oh that I had a tenth of the faith and conviction that Elijah had in our Old Testament reading! But it seems to me that it is not as simple as that. Making time and space for God is not simply about such climatic events where hundreds and thousands of people see that the Lord, our God, is God: it is about a faith and conviction that sustains ‘through all the changing scenes of life’.

Let us not be too intimidated by the faith and zeal of Elijah: let us remember that 11 verses later, he prays that he might die because he is afraid by the threats of the Queen. Where was this faith and conviction then that God would come through? I have already made the biggest mistake. So often, we see the extremes: the highs and lows of faith and praise the highs whilst condemning the lows. Sometimes, we really feel close to God and at others we find ourselves, if we are honest, struggling to believe at all. When we feel close to God, we give ourselves a pat on the back: when we feel distant, we fill ourselves with self-reproach, even sometimes assuming that others are feeling the same reproach towards us.

What this story suggests to me is that we human beings are, to quote Anne Frank, ‘a little bundle of contradictions’. Sometimes we are afraid to look, really look at ourselves. We are quite happy, at least some of the time, to share the highs of our experiences when our faith is strong and all is well with the world; but we hide away with our low points. ‘What if Fr Peter knew this about me, would I still be allowed to preach?’ The answer is probably ‘no’, but I suspect that Fr Peter is probably more aware of human nature than that. We hide away and we guard these secrets with our lives. I have to – we all have to be honest with ourselves, with God, and with each other about who we are, warts and all.

We are all broken, human beings who sometimes find the going a bit tough. Let us not forget that this is the very reason that Jesus came to this earth to ‘pitch his tent among us’. The Divine stoops down – no – empties himself to come amongst us, sharing in all of life’s experiences: birth, joy, grief, pain, love, friendship, betrayal, death. Preparing in Advent is not about achieving perfection: it is about clearing a path in the busyness and chaos of our lives. The Word that became flesh and dwelt among us it the same Word that brought order out of chaos and created light in a dark place.

Yes, we pray, quite rightly, that God would give us ‘grace to cast away the works of darkness’, but we must remember that this grace comes from God. We cannot do this on our own and I believe that our Advent collects reflect this. This Advent, perhaps we could lay aside all pretence and all distractions and spent some time in silence, or near silence, and open our hearts. The God who loves us loves us as we are and sent Jesus, even though, or rather because of who we are. Jesus comes so that we might be helped and strengthened on our journey. Perhaps as we keep this silence we might pray: ‘Come, Lord Jesus’. May this become our Advent ‘mantra’. In the words of the Taizé chant: ‘Wait for the Lord, whose day is near. Wait for the Lord. Keep watch. Take heart.’

May the Lord, when he comes, find us watching and waiting!

What I blog about, or sometimes don't.

2007-11-25T22:54:00.000Z

I seem only to write about Christian things on my blog. Sometimes, I think that I would quite like to write about ordinary things like what I bought in Sainsbury's but such things don't really interest me and I don't seem to get to spend much time thinking about non-religious things at the moment. But I guess there are millions of people blogging who have more interesting non-religious things to say, and probably still millions of people with more interesting religious things to say. I suppose that I just think that the religious bits are more important to me this year as I prepare to go to Westcott House to begin ordination training. Perhaps when I get there, I will need to use this blog to spout about more normal things. Who knows?

Some thoughts on Holy Communion

2007-11-25T22:20:00.000Z

I sat in the congregation at Church this morning. Yes, that is as rare as it sounds. Something occurred to me which I felt/feel compelled to blog about.

The sermon (given by the Rev'd Canon Professor John Rodwell) was all about how we struggle to know God but he loves us. He talked a bit about the criminal on the cross (from the Gospel reading) who asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. He was talking, or at least I heard, about the way that there are lots of different kind of people that we like (or liked) to say couldn't come into Jesus' kingdom, citing black people, women, homosexuals to name but a few.

After I had received Communion, I knelt in my pew and watched as everybody else went forward to receive Communion. I always find it emotional to do that for some reason but another thought occurred to me today as I watched people who I find annoying or difficult going up to Communion. At that point, I could not find them annoying or difficult. We were all sharing in an encounter with Jesus: an encounter that we can have only through God's grace and Jesus' boundless love. Jesus was reaching out to all of us: me, my wife, people I like, people who annoy me. If we allow ourselves to think about these things, we can find ourselves being greatly moved. If we don't feel moved, then perhaps we have not adequately grasped the meaning of Communion.

Why people visit my blog...

2007-11-23T23:58:00.000Z

I have an account with Google analytics. It tells me where in the world people visit/have visited my blog from. I can find out what posts people have read and also what they have searched for to find my blog. Some are easy ones like "Matthew McMurray blog"; others have been more obscure like "corpus christi sermon" or "can ordinands wear a cassock". It was quite an eye opener really. Of course, when people have found the blog, I don't really know if anything helped or whether those people came back and keep reading.

Feel free, if you are not a personal friend of mine, to leave a comment telling me how you found my blog and perhaps why you keep coming, if you do.

My Eucharistic Theology: SURPRISE!

2007-11-23T21:55:00.001Z

Eucharistic theology
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Catholic

You are a Catholic. You believe that the bread and wine are transformed by the priest and become the Body and Blood of Christ. Though the accidents, or appearance, of bread and wine remain, the substance has been changed. The Eucharist remains the Body and Blood of Christ after the celebration, and is reserved in the Tabernacle; Eucharistic devotions are proper. As the whole Christ is present under either species, you partake fully of the Eucharist even if you receive only one.

Catholic

100%

Calvin

81%

Orthodox

75%

Luther

63%

Zwingli

50%

Unitarian

Photo of me in my cassock

2007-11-23T20:10:00.000Z

Just in case anybody is offended or distressed by the sight of a man in a cassock (having added the photo on the right of this blog), I would like to assure that I don't wear my cassock at home or anywhere apart from the Priory when I am involved in something that needs/desires it.

If that doesn't help, may I suggest moving on?

Letters from Cambridge.

2007-11-23T20:05:00.001Z

I received my letter today offering me a place at Westcott House from September 2oo8. It is nice because it feels as though it is another step on the way. I just have to hope that when it comes to the moderation of my pre-theological education, they are happy with what I have done this year and met the conditions of my recommendation.

PTE reflections 3

2007-11-22T21:09:00.001Z

Well, I have done my reading about liturgy and I have written the essay. I am not sure that I have done very well in it. You know when you read it and wondered whether you have actually answered the question at all? Well, I will get some feedback on it when I meet with my DDO next Friday. I suppose I had forgotten how difficult it can be to apply all your reading to a specific question. More news to come next week.

I went to Cambridge last week with Toni to visit Westcott House where I want to train. I really enjoyed it. We were there Thursday to Friday. Thursday night is the Community Eucharist followed by the community notices and then Compline at 9pm. The Eucharist was combined with the licensing of the new Chaplain and the new Vice-Principal. It was an ultra-high 'Solemn Mass' which pushed all the right buttons. They assured me that the Community Eucharist was not always so 'high' so I hope that there will be a nice variety of styles. It is bound to be predominantly a liberal catholic style of worship though. The notices, with the community soup (made by a tutor group to feed the whole community), were rather chaotic and noisy but a lot of fun and it was clear that it would be a nice and fun atmosphere in which to train. Compline then happens at 9pm, which was a beautiful sung service. The notation was in neumes (the funny square dots that took some getting used to) but I managed to follow and know where I was going. It was finished off with a Salve Regina, which again pushed the right buttons and then there was the 'Greater Silence'. This means that silence is kept until Breakfast the next morning. What this means in reality is that everybody goes to the pub which is just outside the back of the college...and yes, I did! Silence was, however, kept in the college grounds which led to a very nice atmosphere. I know that a lot of people would hate it but I loved it.

At times, it seemed almost as though they were paying more attention to Toni than to me (which was a nice thing). One of the tutors turned out to be the head of governors at a Primary School in Cambridge and would enquire as to whether there were any posts for next academic year. Toni is going to visit the school next month and is trying to find out if she can do her final placement there. These things have a way of working out. It was nice that Toni had such a good time because it seems all to real to me at times that Toni is following me rather dutifully as I train for three years and then have a curacy and then move again to my own parish.

I have been slipping a little with spiritual discipline. I have been trying to say Morning and Evening Prayer every day but haven't managed it for a while. I have said Evening Prayer tonight so I will see if I can get myself up in time to say Morning Prayer tomorrow. I think I will have to tackle this one step at a time. Both Morning and Evening Prayer are compulsory at Westcott so I will have to get used to it. Mass and Compline (every day) are optional. I think that it is easy when you find yourself slipping in a discipline to give up, but I am going to keep trying and repeating the exercise as many times as it takes.

If any of you are following this with any interest, I hope that this will fill in a nice gap and that you will forgive me for not writing for a while. Do feel free to comment or ask me any questions.

England v. Croatia

2007-11-22T21:07:00.000Z

Oh dear!

PTE reflection 2

2007-10-23T18:00:00.000+01:00

I met 12 days ago with my DDO (Diocesan Director of Ordinands) to talk about how things are going and to get some feedback on my Essay. He said that it was an excellent piece of work so I felt very encouraged. I had been worried about writing an essay: the first in about 8 years. It has encouraged me to believe that I can do it and has encouraged me to work hard on the other essays that I will have to do this year. At the moment, I am reading several books about liturgy. Some parts of the reading I am finding quite interesting and it is nice to learn where certain traditions and liturgies have come from and also why they came about.

I had an e-mail on the 4th October from the priest who had been chosen to be my Spiritual Director. Unfortunately, he has been diagnosed with aggressive prostate cancer and so will be unable to meet up with me. I really appreciated his e-mail and the fact that he told me about it himself rather than passing a message on through my DDO. It is a shame because I had looked forward to meeting with him. Another priest has now been chosen be my new Spiritual Director and I am meeting with him on Monday next week. I am looking forward to the meeting and to beginning the spiritual work that we will do this year.

The whole process is gradually bringing home to me that this is a real process and I am really in it. I feel quite humbled, the more I think about it, that I have been recommended for ordination training, with the conditions for this year set. The reading especially has helped to make things more real. I feel so honoured to be in this process of Pre-theological Education.

I am going to visit Westcott House (for the second time) next month with Toni and I am looking forward to seeing if my impression of the place is as strong as it was last time and I hope that Toni will like it too. It will feel rather strange to visit the place with slightly more of a sense of certainty about whether I can go.

Priory Dinner Dance

2007-10-15T19:03:00.000+01:00

Here is one photo from the dinner dance.

There is a better one that Terry (my landlord) took where we are both standing with a better view but this one will do.

Latest sermon

2007-10-15T09:30:00.000+01:00

This is the text of the sermon that I preached last night at Lancaster Priory. It seemed to be received quite well.

19th Sunday after Trinity – Choral Evensong at Lancaster Priory

Readings:
Psalm 144
Nehemiah 6.1–16
John 15.12–end

‘See how they love each other’. This is what early observers of Christians are reported to have said. ‘See how they love each other’. I wonder what those outside of the Church would observe about us in these days. Do we love each other in the fullest sense of the word? ‘See how they love each other’. This love was distinctive and set the Christians apart, or it would not have been worthy of mention. Do we stand out like this or have we become assimilated into the society around us and lost some of the spark that made us distinct? What would people say about us?

As part of my pre-theological education, I have just had to read some books about the decline of religion in Britain. There are many who look at the overall decline in attendance figures and conclude that the Church is dying and has become irrelevant. Some sociologists such as Steve Bruce in a book moderately entitled God is Dead, predict that if the trends continue the Church will be no more within the next 25 years. Bruce writes:

Unless it can find the secret that has eluded it for fifty years of decline or negotiate a reunion with the Church of England, the Methodist Church will finally fold around 2031. The Church of England will by then be reduced to a trivial voluntary association with a large portfolio of heritage property. Regular church-goers will be too few to show up in representative national survey samples. (2002: p.74)

This all seems like gloomy reading and I was tempted to throw the book across the room and shout something rather impolite, but I quickly remembered that I was reading a copy that belonged to the Blackburn Diocesan Director of Ordinands. I thought I had better return it in the condition in which I received it. There seem to be many, like Bruce, who see the Church as an out-dated, irrelevant, and moribund institution. I cannot help wondering whether we have lost something of what makes us holy, or put another way: whether we have lost something of what sets us apart and makes us stand out. Is part of the problem that people see nothing different, distinctive or unique about us? If somebody came to this Church tonight for the first time, what would their impression be? What would they see? Would they see a rather lovely group of people who sit quietly and listen to some rather quaint music, put up with 5 minutes of rambling from the pulpit and then go their own separate ways without so much as a “Hi! How are you?” Would they feel welcomed or would they feel as though they were looked upon with suspicion? Would they see a group of people marked out by their mutual love and care?

I mean this not as accusation, but rather as food for thought, and I have to turn the questions round to myself. How many of us will still be faithfully attending Church in 2031? I would like to think that if I come here I will still see some familiar faces and perhaps some new ones. I suppose that the central question is what our faith means to us. What difference does it make? What is so special about being a Christian and belonging to this company of believers? Does it inspire us so that we would lay down our lives for each other as Jesus describes? Or are we willing to carry on only so long as we are not challenged too much?

I am always challenged by the passage in St John’s Gospel that we have heard tonight, because it reminds us that we are called to bear fruit. Neither I, nor any of you, can simply come, sit, pray and then leave. We must allow ourselves to be challenged by what we hear and we must allow it take root as seeds destined to grow into something bigger and more glorious. And what is the purpose of this? That we may become better, more righteous people? That we reach a certain state of Enlightenment and leave others behind? No, the purpose of allowing these things to take root and grow is that we may grow in love for each other and in community. In a world so often torn apart by war, division, back-biting and selfishness, we are called to be the light: those who bring healing, peace and love. We are the ones called to bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth: not by strength, not by might, not by our great numbers, but by the Spirit of God which challenges us, transforms us and makes us more like he who has called us: Jesus. Do we grow in love and community or do we simply come and go and then carry on about our business? This love is the purpose and the goal but it is also the start. This love is the beginning and the end. ‘We love because God first loved us.’ We are who we are because God has loved us and called us, and we become more fully who God wills us to be by receiving that love and returning that love: first to God, and then to each other. This is not a sequence but rather a consequence: if we love God, we will love all those who he has made, who he has willed to make in his own image. This is a love that is self-sacrificing: a love that will lay all down of self-interest. This is a love that enables us to do those things that we would rather not do, and this is a love that can change the world: one step at a time. And we can be a part of the change: right here and right now. There remains one thing: to be completely open to the Spirit of God and allow this love to grow within us and to keep our eyes open to find opportunities to put this love into practice and let it make a difference.

And so we pray, asking the Spirit of God to dwell in our hearts and reveal to us more of this love, and give us strength to put it into practice and persevere even if we endure hardship and persecution.

some photos

2007-10-08T19:48:00.001+01:00

I was playing with our camera the other day trying to take some close-up photos. Some of the photos were better than others but I thought I would put these two up.

PTE reflections 1

2007-10-05T19:38:00.000+01:00

Well, I had a busy time reading 3 books about the decline of religion in Britain and then writing a 3,000 word essay. I had not written any kind of essay for several years, so it was quite nice to have the challenge of writing one. I e-mailed it to my DDO [Diocesan Director of Ordinands] and I am meeting with him next Thursday when he will give me some feedback. I think it was ok and I find it an interesting read when I read it so hopefully that might be a good sign. I think I need to work on my proof-reading though because I read through it a couple of times before I e-mailed it off but then re-read it afterwards to notice a couple of mistakes: nothing too serious but nonetheless frustrating. At least this part of the process is more about my development rather than about meeting certain grades. I am looking forward to getting some feedback. It is the intervening uncertainty that is most frustrating.

I am preaching at Lancaster Priory on the 14th and it will be the first time that I wear a cassock and surplice at Church. It isn't the most important event in the world on that day but a bit of a milestone in the small world of Matthew McMurray.

Cassock and surplice

2007-09-21T18:00:00.000+01:00

My cassock and surplice arrived today. I got them to celebrate and mark getting through my BAP. I can wear them without a tippet (until I am ordained) when I preach at Evensong at the Priory but if I didn't get through selection, I was not going to buy them.