Signing Off

Well, one house is a mess and the other is now clean. One house will soon be empty and another quickly filled. Mrs Acular's tempers are frayed, and mine are languishing behind an accelerating headache. I have spent the afternoon battling more bloody spiders (all the while leaving the cleaners to deal with dessicated frogs [don't ask]) - all of which means that it is about time to sign off from Aylesbury. 

Oddly, this is the second time that I have had cause to bid farewell to this town. The first was as a result of starting my theological training, the second as a result of its fruit. 

It has been a good place. It has served my family well. Aylesbury College Day Nursery will always be an establishment accorded much credit for how our children have grown and developed. I cannot understate how much of a positive influence on their existence it and its staff have been. We delivered two tearful toddlers and received two intelligent, inquisitive, sociable and morally aware little girls equipped to begin their formal education. I can never thank them enough.

It has been a good place. I have ministered to many of its families in the best and worst of times. I take them all with me in my heart. Aylesbury is blessed with amazing people, all wanting the best for themselves and their families and able to trust us practitioners to help with the momentous events that mark all our lives. The young people of this town are so full of life too, and Aylesbury grants them such richness of opportunity. Many have gathered in the church where it has been my joy to witness them minister to the town in their own special ways. 

It has been a good place. Its worshipping communities have such an expansive heart for the Gospel. Yes, it is ecclesially polarised, but the witness of Christ in Aylesbury yields much fruit in terms of outreach to those less blessed by circumstance. I have watched the homeless community find literal and figurative warmth during the coldest of months, as a result of the love of Aylesbury's Christians. 

I close this post, the last of well over 400 written from this desk. It will be the last I write here, and the last of anything - I need to dismantle this computer before I sleep. I leave a present that has treated me well and has allowed me the chance to flourish into a ministry for which I was born. As for tomorrow, I will worry about that when it arrives. 

God bless you, Aylesbury. Thank you. 

Goodbye. 

Books and Chapters

Well, the time has come. I am trying to fashion a sermon which is very important to me because it is conceivably the last one that I will preach in Aylesbury. I am working on my last draft and contemplating its delivery, which I can be sure will be a shaky affair. We'll see.

This time next week I will be a resident in Whitton. The lorry will probably be emptied by now and I will be left with a boxed-up existence and how to make it fit a new life and house. This week has been characterised by the clumsy daubing of paint on walls (and upon my person), the fitting of the first carpet that I have ever had to pay for and that interesting moment of being in one's new home alone for the first time. To date, we have had to rely on the kindness of the Whitton Clan to let us in, so we have always been on our 'best behaviour'. Yesterday, I poked around my new house properly for the first time, feeling rather naughty. For the first time I considered the wonder of the airing cupboard and pondered the accouterments that had gathered in the garage. Then I did that funny thing that I do whenever I move house (I have done that lots and lots) - and that is to lay on the lounge floor arms and legs out-stretched starfish fashion, looking up at the ceiling. Yes, I know. 

Sunday will be a momentous occasion. The district churches have cancelled all their services so that we can have a Team Eucharist at St. Mary's. That is jolly nice of them, as it means that many of them will be put to considerable inconvenience to get to church (though that said, some will get a lie in). The church will be fairly well full, which in August is no small feat. I will be surrounded by an amazing group of people, all of whom share a characteristic in common - that they really have no idea how wonderful they are.

I feared my first ever sermon - but only half as much as I fear my last in this ministry. I could preach for days on end and not cover all that I wish I could say. Yes, those words would include the odd warning, but delivered that they may have life and have it abundantly. We'll see.

So, in this book that is The Ministry of One David M Cloake, a chapter draws to its conclusion. It has been a happy chapter, blessed and rich in experience and opportunity. I have walked alongside some remarkable people, some of whom have shared their last steps on earth with me. I have celebrated the new life of baptisms and the love-stories of marriages. I have been guided my a man whom I delight in now being able to call my friend, and not simply 'boss'. I have been supported by a wife of such overflowing grace and generosity that I would need more lifetimes to return it - and then there have been the Twins Aculae. Could a man be any more blessed than me? 

I am not sure what more I can say. I might not be able to post much in the next few days, hence this slightly premature post. I will 'sign off' when I prepare to leave this place. Please pray for my family - this is never just about me, after all. 

A Shona Mass, a Gift from Zimbabwe

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Today I have had the particular joy of sharing a Mass with my very dear friends from the Zimbabwean community. Not in Britain by choice, they have moved here and made new lives, families often split even now. I asked them to repeat this hymn in their own language which is my favourite. In the best of time and the worst of times (and 'worst' as I could hardly ever imagine), their faith is summed up in the joy and passion of this hymn. As I said to them, as a result of knowing them I am glad and proud to apply the label of Anglo-Catholic Charismatic to myself. Zimbabwean charismatic worship is still very 'catholic' in flavour, and no-one there could deny the presence of the Holy Spirit. 

Another wonderful, painful, joyful, devastating moment of goodbye - though I hope for only a short while. I sense that I will see these wonderful Christians some more. 

Please do watch the video (forgiving my blunt direction to start them off) - this is the beat of my heart. 

Curacy ... a Guide

The Oxford Diocese Beauties - June 2008

For what are, I hope, obvious reasons (if you are more than a passing acquaintance to this blog), I have been thinking a considerable amount about the last three years and the profound honour of the ministry entrusted to my care. I can confidently claim my curacy as being a success - perhaps one of the most successful, not a claim I make lightly or carelessly.Within a breath of time, I will be a curate in a vicar's clothes, and a new and very different ministry will have started. I want, therefore, to consign some thought for posterity, as a tool of reflection for me, and maybe as a helpful tool for someone else later.

So, my Vernacular Top Ten Tips for a Kicking Curacy. 

1. Reaping and Sowing - the absolute truth of this ministry in training is that we get out in direct proportion to what we put in. We are called to work hard, to graft. A finicky over-focus on time off or study-time is not, I believe, what it is about. Those who have had the better curacies are the priests who have had to be reminded on many occasions about life/work balance. After all, ours is the best job in the world. We are not in sole charge of anything except perhaps our diaries, but get to go out do some vicaring and enjoying the rich blessings of ministry without some of the stresses and responsibilities of incumbency. 

2. Loving them into the Kingdom - the phrase taught to me by my Incumbent, this just about sums up every moment of any ministry. In this case, I refer to the level with which curates must fall in love with our ministerial field, its people and its life. I am passionate about Aylesbury and I have set my heart to do whatever is in my power to add to its life. Our communities (parish or wider afield) are the greatest gift in the world to us. Any lesser a view means you can't fully embrace them as brothers and sisters. 

3. The grace to learn - curacies are training posts. We are always fledglings to one level or another, and a heart to learn and the grace to accept a lesson can only be the winning ways in this life we lead. We may arrive good at some things (by God's  grace), but the minute we forget that we are beginners is a moment of great peril. Only someone with a heart to learn can be taught. 

4. The Boss - I have spoken of this elsewhere, but it is still worthy of note here. To my mind, and in all normal circumstances (there are always exceptions, of course), our Training Incumbents know best. Even when they don't (and it is conceivable), their choices and directions are made for our development. Graciousness is about the best way of showing appreciation for that person who has or will devote a considerable proportion of three years to our specific personal growth. Rarely in any walk of life are any trainees so blessed by the experience, time and prayer of one person in such a complete way. If they seem to act like they know best, it is probably because they do. 

5. The people - often passive or unknowing in this, they are much of the source of our learning. Our first clumsy bedside encounters, the first funeral, the first assembly, passing comments that stick to us, feedback (there is a little in curacy) - all of these things improve us. Even conflicts (as there are in churches) are a source of a rich education, all the while remembering that we are part of the encounter. This speaks, I think, of loving the people into the Kingdom with a grateful heart. Even the most talented Training Incumbent can do nothing with their curate in an empty room or field. 

6. The unexpected - three years I would have stated confidently that I was not cut out for ministry in schools. I would have done an assembly a month as a box-ticking exercise and let those who I perceived to be better than me do that bit of the job. God knows better than us, and I thanks God for that because I couldn't have been more wrong about that first assessment. This is but one of a myriad examples that I could give you. Conversely, some things that I thought were "my thing" have become the things I gain least pleasure from now. A heart to accept the unexpected will, I believe, be regularly surprised. 

7. Pecking Order - the 'Curate in Ministerial Raptures' will always get this wrong: (1) Family (2) Self (3) Ministry. The second speaks not of the very thing I denounced in Point 1, but of a need to ensure that the battery is charged before it energises others. This is place for retreats, prayer, reading, study, or just a little of that elusive thing in a ministerial life - sofa time. However, the lesson it has taken longest to learn (if indeed I ever did), is that my family overwhelmingly trump every other thing. Yes, of course there are exceptions and missing meetings or key services in favour of baby-sitting just speaks of poor organisation. This Point refers to taking them as seriously as the work, and both need careful organising to exist (or even stand a chance of existing) side by side. 

8. Have Fun - I have known some curacies to founder, or to remain stunted and never to fully grow. They were all characterised by a lack of fun and enjoyment (that is not to say that such a thing was the cause of the 'issues'). Laugh with people, laugh at yourself, even laugh at and with you Incumbent - it's allowed. Ministry is not an opportunity to be professional poe-faced, because that is as attractive to the world as flatulence. Yes, some of the things we do or witness are just ridiculous, as are we at times - largely because this is a theatre of human-beings doing our best together. 

9. Trust God - perhaps the one that should have gone at the top, but the statement of the obvious that is often the obvious understatement. Those of us blessed with an ordained ministry will know how many hurdles we have hopped through to get to this point. If we think for a moment that we got here by own efforts alone, and not within the calling that carries us in our lives, then we are stupid and conceited. God got us here, and God will guide us on, if we let Him.

10. Ministry is Us, but different - emerging from three years of this, I can see that I am fairly well the same bloke that was trained, but that I have a few tool more to help me along the way. I have not turned into some Angel, become a better man, acquired a more robust conscience or made me any less able to make mistakes than I was before I took this collar. If anything, I am 'me', but in the right place. What I was good at before I am still good at, and what I knew I was poor at, I am still poor at (notwithstanding Point 6). I put this here because I wish I had known that at the start. Early ministry was, for me, characterised by a deep sense that I was failing to meet a standard that I had always assigned to priests. Early blogs posts here will confirm that. Now I am, finally, at peace that I was formed in a greater part by the life I lived before all this started, and that I must embrace that formation accordingly (and not shun it as I had been tended to do). 

There is so much more that can be written and the experiences of others will vary, of course. I fail to see how I could have been more blessed, by the life, company, training and experience that I have had here in Aylesbury. More specific thoughts and thanks will be written later. 

Where Civic and Church Come Together

I have just enjoyed another wonderful evening in the company of the civic community of Aylesbury, the town where I minister. It was the annual 'Mayor-Making' ceremony, where one Mayor stepped aside for another. 

Last year, I shared the chaplaincy to the Mayor, and you will be aware of some of the exploits that the Mayor and I shared during 2011. The first was a tandem bike-ride, the other a tandem sky-dive. They were both examples of the civic and ecclesiastical working together well, and in a reciprocal and warm way - in my modest opinion. My time as a chaplain to the out-going mayor has been a remarkable time for me, and I think for him too. Both of us have done things we would never have thought possible a year ago, and as such we come away from such experiences better. That we got on so well to start with was a great help.

I am now firmly of the view that the church has a place in civic life. We are all in our jobs to the same end - to serve the people among whom we live. We do it, I think, less with a spirit of self than with a spirit of service. Of course we all have our passions, and it was clear that Cllr Webster's passion was for the betterment of the young people of this amazing town. It is a thing that I share with him. 

Part of the 'arrangement' is liturgical, of course - with a number of large civic services required during a normal year. The greater benefit is to be found in the constancy of the relationship. We the priests seem to have been known by almost everyone this evening - and in good ways. We had a place there, official or supportive. In either case, we were legitimate guests at the figurative and literal table. A lot of this is about being public figures with other people on our hearts. A clear acknowledgement of that shared aspiration makes for a potent and very mutual end result. I don't think that this is simply limited to Christian circles either. Part of the arrangement sees me and my Rector as members of a Council that negotiated and advocates for ethnic and credal minorities. That we are Christians is less important than the fact that we are people of faith. The events surrounding the demonstrations of fascist and racist groups in our town a year ago is further proof, if any were needed, of the great good that people of faith can do in the right circumstances. 

On a personal level, this evening represented the beginning of a long ending in Aylesbury. My assistance to the mayoral chaplaincy is now ended and a few goodbyes made, even now. As a curate, a priest in training, my time as Graham's co-chaplain will form a treasured memory among so many of working alongside those men and women who devote so much of themselves and their time to champion a town and its people. Sadly, the community in its zeal to react to wider political circumstances, did not re-elect Graham to its council this year, which is a considerable pity and a significant loss to the town. For me, there are just wonderful memories of some whacky times, but times that will always prove to me that the church and faith have a voice and place at the table of civic life. 

Delete

That is not an order, incidentally. Just the title of a blog post, ya hear!

So, the news is out, dates are being carved into the tablets of time, and there is now work to be done. Sadly, I must have been ill when theological college did the 'Buggering Awf' class, because n'ere a book rests within my copious personal library that attends to the 'The Great Scarper'. 

Actually, the truth is that the prospect of dis-entangling myself from so many things is a sad one to me. Leaving a ministry is tough I think (if it has gone well). I doubt I will get away with: "Well, that's me. I've left the files in the study. Speak soon and thanks for all the gin". It might be easier that way, I just don't know.

The funny thing is that stopping one ministry still involves moving forward. I am still engaging in new pastoral encounters with people, organising this and that, thinking ahead. No brown archive box with the picture of the kids and the pot plant for me! Oh no sir-ee. Public ministry means (I believe) involving oneself to a very deep level with the people with whom we engage. That means laughing with them and crying with them (with any luck at the same time that they are doing said things - bad ministry otherwise). It means pouring love into those chance encounters; prayer too. When those engagements conclude, we don't just turn off either. For me, I ponder those whom I have passed along the way and how they may be faring. 

Priests are nomadic. The tied accommodation is something of a paradox, because although vicars are often associated with vicarages, we are always nomads. Our stops might be prolonged, but stops they be, and move on eventually we do. When the time comes to make the next long walk, there is (I am now discovering) an odd period of stasis. We know we are called to leave, but not just yet. It requires some considerable effort not to lose interest and cast eyes forward. I haven't fallen into that trap to date, partly because it will be so hard leaving this place. In a very very small way, this must be how it feels to succeed to a throne. Becoming the next monarch demands (normally) that one's parent has died. A good thing under-written by a very painful thing. The prospect of a new ministry is wildly exciting for me, all the while underpinned by the sure and sad knowledge that I will have to say goodbye to Aylesbury.

Announcement

By the time that I publish this post, four or five announcements will have been made, all of the same substance. On this occasion, those announcements will concern me and the next stage of my ministry.

In simple terms, I have been appointed as Vicar of the Parish of Ss. Philip & James in Whitton, Twickenham. It has been an interesting little voyage; first the usual things like adverts, forms and interviews; but then news that the appointment must be made (or at least confirmed) by the Archbishop of Canterbury. His office wrote to me, I wrote back - deal is sealed. Such are the wonders of the Church of England!

This is a wonderful moment for me. Those of us who are called to public ministry are not called to theological college, or indeed to curacy particularly, but to what lays beyond. For some of my friends, that has been a sector or armed-service chaplaincy, for others like me, incumbency. That said, the ministry of curacy is life-forming, whole and complete - it just has the freedom of the 'trainee'. 

This post becomes an interesting one. I have pondered whether this might become the death-knell of the Vernacular Curate. Should an incumbent blog? Should a vicar blog as a the Vernacular Curate? I wonder if the Vernacular Vicar can catch on? The great joy and privilege of a good curacy (and I have had the best that there can ever be), is that we Assistant Curates (our proper titles) have chance to expound on the imponderables of life in some freedom. The life, ministry and expectations of the priest with whom the 'buck stops' is necessarily very different, and I now need to consider long and hard the appropriateness of what I write in the new 'job'. 

Another reason that this post becomes an interesting one is that it may well be the first thing that the good folk of Whitton read. We live in a world of Google-search, and I expect that one or two will do that thing which I always do! If you are from Whitton, welcome to my blog. Have a good read, you'll get a feel for me soon enough! I look forward to getting to know you soon.

Then, of course, there is the prospect of leaving something good, whole and wonderful. Whilst my move to Whitton is a source of absolute joy, the prospect of leaving my beloved Aylesbury currently weighs heavily on my heart. Curacies have to end. The good ones are always too short, the harder ones endlessly long. Mine has lasted but a moment, a snip of time. However, all good books have their separate chapters, and this one is about to move to Chapter II. 

Please pray for my beloved Jo, Jessica and Rebekah. This change is not just mine. 

For Duck Sake

I have just returned from the Mayor Making in Aylesbury, the town where I live and minister. For those unfamiliar with this little bit of quaint English ceremony, it is more formerly known as the Inauguration of the New Aylesbury Mayor and Deputy Town Mayor.

In this country, the mayor is the 'first citizen' of the town, an already elected member of the town council and a resident of the town. To some it is a pointless and quaint role, but I have seen it in a different light through the haze of my red-wine. 

We have just said farewell to the outgoing mayor, a magnificent Hindu lady who, if you cut her in half, would have 'Aylesbury' writ-large through the middle of her. She was replaced by a matey of mine Graham, a mover-and-shaker in the local Scouting Association and a proper top-bloke. But the point of the mayor is more that just the job that they hold (and the preposterous outfit that they are expected to wear in the Civic Centre [languishing as it was at about 100 degrees - it gets pulled down next week, so never mind, poor civic centre).

As a minister of religion, a priest if you will, I am a passing ship in this town. However, witnessing so much of the civic life as I do as part of my particular job has taught me that the place where I live and work now is not just a postcode. Aylesbury has a strong beating heart, and that heart is personified in the person of the mayor. Aylesbury needs its mayor more than its MP - because the mayor is Aylesbury, not just a representative. This is a fine town, with much that is good and a little that can be improved - but I learned tonight that a town is so much more than an accident of geography - it is a living being. I have a passion for the town, and now that I share the chaplaincy to its mayor, I can also be passionate about its figurehead. This is a proud town, self assured. It is in safe and loving hands for another year. He might be called upon to wear the last generation of ferret upon his mantel, but it is counted as important and counted as worthy that he does and that we celebrate this remarkable place.

* and for those wondering what the reference to 'duck' means in the title - the Aylesbury duck is the town mascot

Working with Big Bob and the Captain

Something happened last weekend that I am eager to share with you. Something happened that is often so rare that even thinking it is fruitless, but it happened. 

In Aylesbury, something good happened that bucked trends and filled my stoney heart with hope for the future.

No, I didn't speak in tongues, and no, I didn't suddenly develop a sense of romance - much more improbable than that.

Lean forward, dear reader - lean forward so that I can share this modern day miracle ... are you listening?

Christians from across the traditions worked together on a single enterprise, and we all lived to tell the tale.

You heard it here first folks - carflicks and jellies got it together for the good of the community. And man, it felt good. 

The thing is this (get up off the floor and listen, you can worry about the implications later) - me, Big Bob Big Bob Legge, the Curate from our own AitchTee (HT dear,  as in Holy Trinity, keep up), and Cappun Blyth (aka Andrew), the new Area Dean and Big Bob's boss, we got together for the good of the kids of Aylesbury, and we did good. God saw it and saw that it was good too, cos it didn't widdle on us. 

After the tensions that permeated Aylesbury a few Saturdays back, the Town are providing free street entertainment from now until after the Summer holidays, and Saturday was the turn of Aylesbury Churches Together. So, me, Fr Shane (my boss and chair of the Churches Together), the Cappun and my good mate and fellow geezer Big Bob we got some folks together and between us we rocked. The wonderful people of our churches put on so many activities and games, and we saw hundreds of people into and out of the Big Gazebo. So, Christians from across the traditions can work together, and not come out in a rash. Actually, we had a good laff  too, and recognised that for the 'churchies' of Aylesbury, things were looking very hopeful indeed.

...and thanks for the coffee Andrew - I forgot to say on the day!

Is it me?

After an interesting 24 hours, I have been reflecting on some things - things I am going to throw into here and where I can leave them. To the myriad new readers to this little Blog, welcome. 

Extremism: So, we have a bunch of folk deriding the Muslim communitee. Why? Because some extremists under the banner of Islam have brought murder to the streets of this and other countries. There are some proper naughty Muslim people out there - not good. Do I support them? No, of course I don't. Do the vast majority of other Muslims support them? No, of course they don't. 

Take football. We have some extremists causing some un-holy ruckus under the banner of football. Football extremists (let's call them 'hooligans') have injured and offended, and may just possibly have caused death when we look back over the news stories over the last few years from across the globe. There are some proper naughty football hooligans out there. Do I support them? No, of course I don't. Do the vast majority of other football fan support them? No, of course they don't. 

So, we throw out all Muslims - do we do the same for all football fans? Although I am really very English, I have brown eyes and brown hair, and my daughters do not fully share my pigmentation as they have red hair - should we be thrown out like those who are deemed to be different from the Arian pigment-perfect dream? I am a Christian - the principal faith of our country. Should I seek to throw out all those of no faith, or those of no confirmed faith. Should I marginalise all those who have a taste for noodles and pupadoms because they have opted not to eat roast-beef with the trimmings tonight? What if I had a child born with Downs' Syndrome? I have 20/20 vision - that makes my eyesight perfect and aspirational - should I jeer at those who wear glasses? Should I shroud the fact of the slight deficiency in my hearing on one side? Dare we even talk gender ...

No, no, no, no, no, no - and no again. 

Why? When we paint a picture of the perfect citizen in any way, we create a rod for our own backs. I am no more perfect than any of the visitors to Aylesbury yesterday, and am as flawed if not more so. (The American and Welsh flags at an English Defence League rally were odd to say the least, but actually, gave me some hope that at least some (teency weency) fraction of open-mindedness existed in Market Square yesterday). No, because we create a line that we are destined never to be able to cross.

So, to all extremists (of any and every brand, including Christian): when one of you can stand up and say that you are the perfectly realised model of humankind, only then will you have a platform (but no right, no-one does) to judge others for being different to you. Look at it another way; every single one of us who breathes the air of our little Rock have reasons why we are to celebrate the generosity of others. We could all be marginalised on one account or another, but others have accepted us (largely) for who we are warts and all. There is a time when that generosity needs paying back. Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, atheist, footballist, red-haired ... it doesn't matter. They are they and we are we ... and we reap what we sow.

What the EDL did for us

What a day!

I had started the day with a genuine fear of what might happen. The twittering, the Facebooking, the blogosphere and the world that SMS Texts live in, were all buzzing with the grave potential that today had to be a dark day for the people of my beloved town. 

Well, it was ok in the end, and there have been some very real plusses to a day largely heralded as one where such things might not have manifest themselves.

1. The people of our town, of all faiths and none, were galvanised. The folk of Aylesbury didn't want this, weren't going to support it, and condemned the fact that their town was to be a theatre for a macabre pantomime. I walked the streets before noon and I recieved more 'afternoon vicar's then every before. Yes, there was great apprehension, but we knew that in the end, Aylesbury would be ok. It was and we are. 

2. I am in awe at the professionalism of the police. They were good humoured with me and only in Aylesbury to ensure that we were safe from those who may have sought to hurt us. The Thames Valley Police and their supporters from so many forces demonstrated that they are force to be reckoned with. A town needs to see that every once in a a while, and ironically, I think Aylesbury feels like a safer place tonight. 

3. Our worst fears were not realised, and not realised in the slightest. The true English (and British, and European and Asian and human) heart beat tonight as the bells at St. Mary's rang the 'All Clear' - post-Blitz style.

4. I have learned so much about contemporary communication. Whilst I am fairly savvy, I have learned the significant place that Twitter and Facebook have on days like today. Lies and truth together, they are vehicles that can do so much good too. There was a false rumour being posted by SMS Text that the Mosque had been firebombed - when it was uncovered as a lie, Bp Alan and Fr Shane (my boss and his boss) were able to lurch down to said Mosque and get a pic of them having tea with the Muslim community - and tweet it immediately. It did some good, some real good.

5. The EDL march displaced a the wedding to be held today at St Mary's. We went to the country church in the glorious sun and had a great time.  As it happens, there is a sodding great big hole outside the main door of St. Mary's as a result of some protracted drainage work - so the pics would have been proper manky had we been there!

6. The Bishop bought me a pint in the first business to re-open in Aylesbury. That's always a bonus!

So, as I sit in my house, and as heavy rain pours and cleanses our streets once again - I hope and pray that the people of this most magnificent town will pop to the shops tomorrow. The traders were the real losers, what with it being a bank-holiday Saturday and all that. 

In short ...

Aylesbury 1 : Visiting Team Nil