Can't Stop Won't Stop

The wider world may perceive priests and/or ministers as those engage in prayerful knee crunching contortion for many long hours of the day and night. In some cases that may well be true. Some may think that professional religious people hide away in book be-decked aeries where we hover in a God-adoring effervescence of self-hypnosis. In some cases that may well be true. 

Then there are priests like me.

With the intra-ministerial sojourn behind me, I must confess a behaviour that surprised me, although not others when I spoke with them about it.

The issue at the heart of this is simple - priests can't stop. I spoke with my good mate and former boss about this, and he stated in alarmingly simple terms - we aren't equipped to stop. Upon pondering this and my inability to stop fidgeting when ensconced in a work-free vacuum, I deduced the following: we are built to to occupy an ungoverned and un-bordered working life where we have to be self-disciplined to the highest degree to get 'the job' done. Our work is vague, ever-changing, always wonderful, intoxicating, rewarding, never-ending and our efforts never see this 'job' done. This means that we keep chipping away, day after day. Stopping does not form a helpful habit for those of us for whom the work ethic is set to Level 10.

I can hear your cries from here. Yes, I know we must replenish. Yes, I know we must devote time to be with God (but we get around that one by believing quite sincerely that we are with God in all that we do, so stopping makes no difference). Yes, this is surely the path to burn-out (but apply faith to that and we have us a God who surely won't let us fail, surely). Even family life is another form of keeping going which is why the rapturous mix of priestly potterings and familial forays (in my case) are great. 

As I say, many of us priests are not equipped to stop. Perhaps we are like sharks who, if we stop, succumb to mortality. Perhaps we have learned to rest and sleep on the move (you only need hear my sermonising). Perhaps we are on a path to an early grave.

Why I Have Stopped Going to Church

It is a funny thing, being ordained. Well, it isn't funny at all; it's a serious business, but it is a funny old thing. The process of being called by God to ordained ministry (the only ministry that I can speak of - other ministries are available) goes a little like this:

 - Born

 - Go to church with the family

 - Grow a little 

 - Grow a lot 

 - Be born again (if that is your thing)

 - Feel the gentle constancy of God's call

 - Say "yes"

 - Jump through many hundreds of discernment hoops

 - Train

 - Put on the collar after a jolly old time with the Bishop and the Holy Spirit

 - Stop going to church

Simple. 

But you see up there in the list - the whole going to church thing, well that halts at about the same moment that the professional church provision begins. Providing and facilitating 'church' is not about 'going'. I accept that this probably sound ridiculous, but it is a fact. The Eucharist, for me and others with whom I have discussed this, is about managing little arrangements to enable the prayer and praise of God's People to go as it should. As a priest, I either preside or I worship - the two rarely overlap.

I know that some of you still are not convinced. Some of you may be mildly irritated by my words given that we have the perfect excuse to be doing the whole church thing all the time. Part of the calling to priesthood is to approach God with the 'people on our hearts' (Michael Ramsay's idea from "The Christian Priest Today") and to approach the people with God on our hearts. This connects with Bill Countryman's idea that priests exist on the "border of the Holy" - all of which is short hand that tells us that our church, our nourishment and spiritual edification, is to be found away from the community to which we are called to minister. Sometimes, this is a hard thing for new priests to grasp - as there are times, believe me, when we don't feel like we have had a moment with God for weeks or months - a moment with God for ourselves, that is. We are called to have that space elsewhere. If anyone feels called to priesthood to be closer to God, then I would suggest that their wires are crossed. 

The Church Dead in Two Decades?

Some say that it partly forms the Body of Christ on earth, and others that it will be dead in twenty years. All we know, is it it called

The Church of England

The blessed Telegraph suggests, in its headline, that the "Ageing Church of England 'will be dead in 20 years'". Before you climb out of your prams, it was not the blessed Telegraph that says it, no - a cleric from the Eastern Flat-lands of England. 

Well, Reverend Doctor Patrick Richmond, let us examine this hypothesis of yours. 

• Dr Richmond suggests that because our congregations are on average 61 years old, that it is reasonable to suggest they may all be dead in the ground in twenty years. That may be true, but that implies that his view of modern evangelism is less than favourable. The thing is, Doc, that the average age of Christian congregations has always erred towards the ancient - it is just that people start returning to church in their fifties once families and their immediate needs abate. Unless there is a virus that Doc knows about that will wipe us nearly-forties out in the next twenty years too, then I would suggest that congregations are gently self regenerative.
• He cites the drop in stipendiary clergy as another part of his 'perfect storm'. None of the Disciples were paid after all, and while it is true that the church has to become less dependent on its dog-collars, there are still many thousands of people in accredited ministries whom he seems to overlook. Add to this that all Christians have a role in ministry, we can put it another way - the 'perfect storm' exists in his Norfolk teacup. The priesthood may well be dead in the Church of England in twenty years time (actually, no it won't, I still have thirty to serve), but if the Church was ever dependent solely on its priests and not, say, God - then it was always lost. 
• That all said, I must congratulate him for his play on words: "2020 apparently is when our congregations start falling through the floor because of natural wastage, that is people dying" - there's a pun in there somewhere. And a grotesque pessimism. 

Now this is where I have a problem - and those of you who read this blog regularly (thank you), will know that I become gusset-rotated. I can cope with people of no faith deriding our church. I can even cope with the side-swipes of our press who love to dance on our perceived grave. Where I have a problem is when clerics make statements like this, or other clergy who make statements about being bored at Synod, because they gift to our many detractors the very stuff that they need to undermine us more. Comments in the stories mentioned here have become the playgrounds of the 'all churches should be pulled down' brigade and those who express the 'all believers in gods are nutter and bombers' sentiments (inferred if not in fact stated). Clerics seem to want to do it in the public gaze, and neither aging congregations, declining clergy numbers or the next meteorite could do more damage. 

You will also know that I have firm views about churches behaving more as businesses in their business affairs. An aspect of the article that caught my eye was the statement:

The Church was compared to a company “impeccably” managing itself into failure, during exchanges at the General Synod in York.

Whilst I hold the views that I do, I am also clear that the Church is not a business and very often diametrically opposed to one. It typically exists on the good will and efforts of a vast number of un-trained volunteers as a percentage when compared to paid staff, that our 'product' is a fruit of faith and broadly intangible and that every single Head Office Directive falls into the category that would, in the commercial world, see us closed and picked over by venture capitalists in mere weeks. The Church is, by very definition, a sort of anti-business, and despite all else, has survived far worse than this. 

Self-criticism is good and it is healthy. Dr Richmond exceeded that. Self-criticism is good and it is healthy, but self-proclaimed self-destruction exceeds that. The Church of England will not be dead in twenty years. Despite the views of the youthful Vicar of Eaton, there are still many of us who expect to be around in thirty and forty years time (God willing). His words are, of course, one of the fashionable sneers we have heard about recently, and to my mind, unhelpful at best, harmful at worst. 

I do not apologise one iota for my loyalty to my Church and to my Archbishop. I am, though, desperately sorry that so many seem to consistently seek to climb aboard the bandwagon of church-bashing, synod-bashing, and the old favourite Rowan-bashing. I doubt that God called anyone to that particular ministry. 

A Hitchhiker's Guide to A Galaxy

This is not a post about Slartibartfast, Trillian, Ford Prefect, Arthur Dent or the Paranoid Android. More's the pity, you are thinking! I could expound the virtues of 42, 'Life, The Universe and Everything', but I won't. Shame, I hear you cry. Neither will I invoke the wrath of the Vogons - though a Babel Fish is always useful!

No, this is about priestly ministry. Did you just glaze over? Snap out of it, I am busy being meaningful and poignant here. 

You may have gathered, from the flavour of the last few posties that I am considering future ministries and the choices that will place me among them. Part of this is to do with role and what place the Vicar holds in his community. When I was a sprog (not so very long ago, for I am still very youthful), the Vicar was the Head Honcho, the Chief Poobah. He (use of language reflects my experience, nothing more) made the rules and the rest of us followed. Farvah Knows Best! Well, this has manifestly changed. The great comfort of the old model is that at least things were clear - now they are hazy and unclear. There are Uber-mega churches in parts of America who now make money out of defining the leadership of clergy. Yes, yes - path finding, modelling, empowering and aligning (I was listening, see), but what does this actually mean on a Monday morning in February when I have a honking cold, sniffles, a raw throat and a cold coffee awaiting my ministrations? I ponder this often because for priests who seek to lead communities, this is the '42' question.

To me there are several helpful models (not including the 'shepherd' model, that's plagiarizing none less than God, and can't be cool, ever); the conductor of an orchestra [the conductor is not the star, or the person with the skills to do everything - the conductor is a true collaborator with a team whose end product is stunning]; there is the Maitre 'D [not the skilled chef, the adept waiting staff, or the owner, but the one who keeps things going and the punters fed].

Another model of ministry struck me a few days ago, and like any that are not from the mouth of the Lord, it is flawed. However, there is a sense that the incumbent is the hitch hiker. The journey of the parish is well underway. It is going where it is going. It makes that journey in a vehicle that needs love, along a road that is confusing and apt to throw it travellers into uncharted territory. Vicars are hitch hikers. We may know that stretch of the route a little better, we may know how the combustion engine works and can help fix it. We can lend a hand if a tyre needs changing and we may even suggest a better radio station for the music. Then, after a while, we hop out and thumb our next ride to the next destination. In short, it is not the vicar's journey, it is the journey of those already in the car. Ultimately the choices are theirs, but the hiker can of course make helpful suggestions. For those in the car, over the whole journey, they may know lots of hitch hikers. Some will bring fun and excitement to the road ahead, others may bring challenge and admonishment for the quality of the driving, and so forth - so many hitch hikers, one journey. 

I am not suggesting that Douglas Adams is the new Bill Hybels (though thinking about it, it might have been fun but for two important factors*), but as priests try to understand themselves and the ministry with which they are entrusted (and believe me, it is like trying to see shapes in clouds at times), models are helpful. This is mine, and I offer it to you for your consumption. Back to my cold coffee ...

*he is a post-mortem atheist

Resolutions, Women, Church and Choices

In regard to church life, there are two stances that I take 

1. I support the calling of all people to all ministries within the church if they are God-given and demonstrable (ie the same marker that I was asked to stand by). 

2. I defend the right of anyone to disagree with the above, and believe that a family should be strong enough to accommodate both/other/all points of view

The tension in holding these two views brings with them some consequences for me. I was looking at the Resolutions as they stand at the moment, and given that they are not much published on the web, include them here: 

Below are the texts of Resolutions A and B, and the provision for Alternative Episcopal Oversight, commonly known as Resolution C, as they apply to parishes. They should be read in the context of the legislation that put them in place – i.e., The Priests (Ordination of Women) Measure 1992 (Resolutions A and B) and the Episcopal Ministry Act of Synod 1993 (Resolution C). 

Resolution A

That this Parochial Church Council would not accept a woman as the minister who presides at or celebrates the Holy Communion or pronounces the Absolution in the parish.

Resolution B

That this parochial church council would not accept a woman as the incumbent or Priest-in-Charge of the benefice or as a Team Vicar for the benefice.

Resolution C

Where the Parochial Church Council of any parish has passed one or both of the resolutions set out in Schedule 1 to the Measure, a decision may be taken jointly by the minister and the council to petition the diocesan bishop concerned to the effect that appropriate episcopal duties in the parish should be carried out in accordance with this Act of Synod

I will start looking at parishes soon as I move to incumbency, so rather than making blanket-presumptions, thought it best to examine the Resolutions. My churchmanship means that I am more likely to come across them. For my part, I believe that I could minister in a parish community that has A and B in place. It is not my role, I believe, to agree with a parish community - but rather to defend the rights of others to hold their views with integrity. I am, of course, in favour of the ordination and consecration of woman - and not even that - anyone whom God calls, whatever their 'label'. I would also hope that a confessing community would also allow me the same dignity. Mutual challenge in those situations can only be healthy if undertaken with absolute respect and openness. I cannot minister to a parish with Res. C in place for the following reason: I cook for my kids, and if they decide that they don't like my cooking we will talk about it, but they will not be allowed to invite another dad in to do it for them. Simple. 

The inverse of all of this is that some would remove all ability for dissenters to dissent, will force issues in some circumstances, and in those moments, people get hurt and become more entrenched in their political and theological perspective. Dialogue dies with prematurity. Churchmouse brought to my attention today a Paper tabled by Frank Field MP that seeks, to my eyes, to force hands. To force legislation in favour of anything renders it forced. Force removes compromise, silences voices, removes choice. The Church of England may stop being an adverse place for some, but it will surely become adverse for others instead - and I do not believe that any of us really want 'the other side' of any argument to suffer the pain that we ourselves may have suffered (and I acknowledge the endless pain in so much of this). Measures like the Resolutions that allow people integrity of choice are, to me, helpful things. We cannot all agree all of the time, and neither should we. We can listen though.