There’s another Mersea blogger and photographer taking pictures – this is one of hers – who is saying some very nice things about me but also practicing that much too common female trait of putting herself down too much (as opposed to the much too common male trait of puffing ourselves up too much). Go over and have a look at her photos and tell her how good they are.
At that rather significant PCC meeting the other week I recommended changing the Bible that we used in our worship. I had thought this was going to be a simple and straightforward process but I was blindsided by a critique of the proposal, which made me think that a) it wasn’t anywhere near as straightforward as I had expected, and that therefore b) I needed to be much clearer about what I was recommending and why. The PCC, rather sensibly, agreed to defer a decision on the matter. My thoughts haven’t reached a settled stage as yet – I am still pondering what the right way forward would be – but prompted by reading this post I thought it would help (help me at least!) to set out my present thinking on the subject. Click ‘full post’ for text.
The presenting issue needing to be addressed was literally that we were running out of the Bible in our 9:30 service. One of the few changes made to the 9:30 since its inception was introducing a corporate reading of the Psalm set for the day, which change seems to work well. However, we have only some 40 copies of the NIV in church, and given that we are now regularly attracting 70 or more worshippers, we need to have more bibles to use (or more psalters – see below). I explored a little bit about what corporate advice was given on the subject of purchasing Bibles and discovered that a) the NIV is not authorised for use at BCP services (of which we have several), and b) that the Church of England recommends using a Bible that contains the deuterocanonical books, and makes provision for reading from those texts in its lectionary. From my point of view this led quite strongly to shifting from the NIV to (probably) the NRSV; in part my attitude was conditioned by a tacit sense that the NRSV was the ‘officially approved’ text, that is, in terms of wider material and usage the NRSV seems to be the one chosen by the hierarchy – so, for example, the Revised Common Lectionary is available in NRSV and (so far as I can tell) not in any other translation.
As I say, I was blindsided by wider issues being raised at the meeting. In part these were issues about the importance of ‘literal translation’ and so on, but more substantially it was pointed out that the provision of NIVs had been made some 15 years or so earlier, by a dearly loved curate, and that the worshipping community had now become accustomed to the NIV, not simply through use in church but also through the purchase of their own study bibles. This is by no means a trivial point, and the weight of it is what I am presently spending time pondering! I don’t believe it to be absolutely conclusive, but it is certainly enough for me to believe I was wrong in considering this a straightforward question for the PCC to resolve rapidly. Hence these further thoughts, as I think out loud on my blog…
So there are various issues to explore.
The issue of translation itself: there are (simply speaking) two concerns in translation – a ‘word for word’ rendition, and a ‘meaning for meaning’ rendition. Some translations will concentrate more on the former; some the latter. Translation is very much an art, not a science, and requires judgement in order to work effectively. It’s also something that is perpetually necessary, especially with regard to the Bible, because even if the original texts don’t change, the language use in the receving community does – and so preservation of one translation in perpetuity leads to an ever-increasing loss of intelligibility (though that point can and does need to be qualified further). So the choice of translation as such is a judgement call, and partly a matter of taste. I don’t personally like the NIV very much – but that’s probably because I am less used to it, having been trained using the RSV. (NB That preference is by no means sufficient for changing the Bible being used.)
One substantial concern about the NIV, as opposed to other versions, is the absence of the Deutero-Canonical literature. This is one way in which the NIV’s nature as a ‘Protestant’ Bible becomes clear, and this becomes a source of contention. However, I do take seriously the authority of the church on this question (something I tend to do in any case) and I therefore see it as a serious lack that we don’t have use of this literature for our edification, either in worship or in private study. As an example of why this might matter, consider this (taken from here)
I would expect to use Sirach to elucidate the Fourth Gospel. Put these texts side by side:
Come to me, you who desire me, and eat your fill of my fruits. For the memory of me is sweeter than honey, and the possession of me sweeter than the honeycomb. Those who eat of me will hunger for more, and those who drink of me will thirst for more. (Sirach 24:19-21, NRSV my emphasis)
Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. (John 6:35 NRSV)
I don’t know how to expound the second text doctrinally or spiritually without referring to the first. I’m not sure that this is to ascribe “derivative” (John’s term) authority to the deutero-canonicals. It seems to me that it is more than that, because in this case the canonically disputed text of Sirach has been caught up in the canonically undisputed text of John.
It seems to me that it would be a good, positive development to be able to use the deuterocanonical literature in this way – and it certainly ties in strongly with some other theological points – but given where West Mersea is as a whole this is not a sufficient argument in and of itself.
A wider question related to translation is the thorny one about inclusive language. The NRSV, amongst other amendments to the RSV, ‘inclusivises’ many of the texts, in such a way that where gender-specific language is not consciously intended the translation is changed to make the ‘whole of humanity’ aspect clearer. Whilst my instincts are to prefer a translation which ‘tells it like it is’ (because where do you stop if you start adjusting!) this seems to be more a matter of translating ‘meaning for meaning’ being given proper prominence. Treating women as second class citizens is no longer seen as acceptable, and where a text raised up and emphasised in worship is HEARD as advocating that injustice, then the translation needs to alter. That’s simply a reflection of the different cultural context within which the text is received. Given that West Mersea is a church which embraces women’s ministry in various forms (including having a female ordinand currently in training) it is a little bizarre to hold on to a translation which runs against that practice.
As well as these issues about ‘which translation to choose’ there is the more profound aspect concerning what form of spirituality is being fostered and developed. Why have a Bible used in church at all? After all, faith comes by hearing, and the use of the Bible in worship is historically through a relationship and human communication – the speaking of the Word and the hearing of the Word. Reading of the Word came in only after the invention of the printing press and is tied up with the individualising of worship that is responsible for so much spiritual poverty in the Western world today. (Sorry, I’ll try not to rant). I don’t expect that point to be accepted, and in fact I do think there is a strong case for saying that use of the Bible in worship encourages a sense of easy familiarity with the text which is devoutly to be encouraged.
The thing is, there is (with some noteable exceptions) a profound ignorance of the Bible within the church (not just this church, but the church in general). Even where there is knowledge of the Bible, it can be a ‘flat’ knowledge, rather that the proper engagement with Scripture that is transformative. Perhaps I’m dreaming a little here, but I do think an essential task of a church is to foster lectio divina – the new bible groups are a step towards that, but so much more is possible.
A central part of such a project would undoubtedly be a more widespread use of the Daily Office – for that to be seen and accepted as simply a normal part of Christian discipleship. I am greatly encouraged when I see the emergent community embracing this ancient practice; the issue seems to be ‘evangelicals of a certain age’ for whom any form of corporate liturgical prayer is anathema (for it offends the great idol of individual relationship with God). This saddens me, but I’m certain that the Spirit is moving on this topic. I’m certainly greatly blessed whenever people join me in prayer, and I think the Office is irreplaceable as a means to soak the believer in Scripture.
Which brings me to where my pondering has now reached: why do we need a new Bible at all? Why not simply purchase psalters for use at 9:30 and 6:30? Well, there doesn’t seem to be a ‘Common Worship Psalter’ as such – but the psalter is contained in both the core ‘Common Worship’ book itself (= “CW”), and within the Office book Daily Prayer (“DP”). One possibility is simply to purchase sufficient copies of CW for the congregation to use. This has the advantage of not just containing the psalter but also the texts for various different services, and could be used for both Morning and Evening Prayer on Sundays – it would give a fair bit of flexibility and more resources if we went down that route. If we purchased lots of copies of DP then we’d get the psalter (a better version, in fact) along with some tremendously good resources in terms of canticles and so on, but we wouldn’t get the orders of services that we use on Sundays. The upside of using DP, though, would be that it would be much easier to accustom people to the Office – and I do see pursuing that as carrying a great potential for blessing. We might even encourage people to purchase their own copies, for use at home – or even, for those a bit frightened of the main DP book (which is a bit chunky) the rather excellent introductory form which Tim Chesterton put me on to, called Time to Pray.
The more I ponder these issues, the more I become aware of the size of the question, and the more silly I feel for thinking it a straightforward matter. Being someone who gives great respect to church authority and tradition I was unaware of the ‘third rail’ aspect which discussions of the Bible can have amongst evangelicals. Yet it is precisely that authority and tradition which provides the richest standpoint from which to engage with Scripture, and which allows for a solid spiritual and Scriptural foundation for the worshipping community. The issue is what provision can we make which will most strengthen the community in its walk with God – bearing in mind that we are not simply engaging with the community in its present form, but also making decisions on behalf of those people who are coming into the faith without much background. If I was a dictator I’d say ‘NRSV and DP!’ – but I’m not, so I’ve got to keep pondering a little longer.
Stroodcam here.
This is a substantially expanded and amended version of my sermon yesterday, based on Luke 7.11-17 & Galatians 1.11-end (in particular, West Mersea worshippers will find it of interest). Click ‘full post’ for text.
The story of the widow of Nain has great human impact: a sorrowing widow; a son that dies; and then – revival.
One of the first things to bear in mind about this story is the social and economic context – that is, unless there was an economically productive male around, you were incredibly vulnerable. So a widow is vulnerable without her husband, but even more than that, a widow losing her son is doubly vulnerable, not simply in economic terms but because the son was her link to the future, a source of meaning as well as means. It is precisely this concern for the vulnerable that is the Spirit behind the prophetic teaching, calling the faithful to provide for the widows and orphans. And here Jesus’ compassion and prophetic stance is clear – “his heart went out to her” – and just like Elijah with the widow of Zarephath the man of God revives the son from the dead, and gives him back to his mother. The family is reunited, means and meaning are revived.
There are a number of aspects to this story to explore. A first is simply to wonder: does Jesus experience a premonition of what is to come as he takes part in this tale? Does he consider that before too long his own mother will be outside the city wall, grieving for her dead son?
But going a little deeper than that, is there something here about our faith, about what it is to pursue that faith within a church community – and perhaps, is there a message here specifically for this church in West Mersea?
To explain what I mean by that, I’d like to talk about St Paul’s conversion experience, on the road to Damascus, and in particular how he describes it in this passage from Galatians – where he describes the sort of person that he was before he met the risen Lord, and the sort of person he became after, which allowed the good news to spread. Paul says that in his former life he was extremely zealous for the traditions of his fathers – but then he began to disbelieve in them. In other words, meeting with Christ began to generate disbelief in him, a disbelief in what had gone before.
The thing is, being human, we surround ourselves with customs and habits and traditions – they are useful in helping us to negotiate our way through life. And they come up in all areas of life – think of how you make a cup of tea, for example. Yet when these habits and traditions enter into our ways of worship we call them ‘sacred’, and these form our religions. It seems to me that part of what being a Christian means – part of what coming to know the living Christ involves – is precisely that we become less concerned about the sacred, less concerned about being religious, just in order that we might concentrate on something which is even more important – the new life offered in Christ, which relativises all of our religious traditions and sacred arts. This is the process of redemption – the light of Christ entering into all the darkest corners of our own hearts as we slowly attain to the full stature of the risen Christ.
The thing is, in so many ways, Christianity is still a very young faith. We may have been going for some two thousand years, but we are really only just beginning to get to grips with what it means to say that this man Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God incarnate upon earth. We still have so far to go on our pilgrimage; we are still discovering the depths of faith. You could say that the faith is this young man outside the walls of a town.
Do I mean that the faith is dead? Hardly that. But I do wonder how far the church is in the position of the widow – disconnected from the future – and beginning to despair.
“Young man I say to you get up.” It is through being addressed by the word of the living Word that the dead come to life, that the dead are revived.
A few years ago I was told a story about one of my predecessors as Rector of Mersea, Reg East, who was a rather Charismatic individual. He had a dream, or a vision, of the island of Mersea catching fire, and the fire spreading, which he understood to be a promise of revival. I have pondered this a lot, along with a comment from a colleague that an upsurge in musical creativity is often associated with a revival – and that we are presently experiencing just such an upsurge.
Is a revival coming? I really don’t know. I do know that a revival is not something that is in our control; it’s not something that we can achieve. We are not called to produce a revival; we are called to be faithful. In other words, to give right glory to God, the Son who is raised from the dead. That’s what being orthodox literally means – right glory. That is our task, that is our witness and that is the only true revival we can seek – to praise the God who gives life to the dead. We must worship the risen Christ, and always be aware of the danger of being caught up in our religion instead.
I do believe that, as I said in my first ever sermon in this place, the tide of unbelief has turned, that the Spirit is abroad in this country, and that we will see a resurgence of belief. I interpret the renewed squeals on the part of the atheists as being an acknowledgment, deep from their bowels, that their argument has been lost. For so long it seemed unarguable that as you matured as a person, so you left behind the childish blandishments of sentimental faith. That lie has been nailed, and we are seeing the consequences rippling down into the wider culture.
But more than this: I am certain that God is doing something special in this place: here, in West Mersea. I reflect upon the remarkable gathering of strength that is occurring here – the associate priests, the retired clergy (with some more on the way), the musical team, the way in which vocations are prospering as with pastoral assistants and lay evangelists being called forward from our midst, the lay leadership in all its forms. I reflect on the fact that, according to Bob Jackson, we are one of the fastest growing churches in the country. We do have a remarkable story to tell in that regard.
I also reflect on Saturday morning when the PCC gave a unanimous endorsement of my proposals to rearrange the sanctuary. I wasn’t expecting this – I had thought that the PCC would be split, and although I thought it would be in favour, I was expecting that the majority would be insufficient to carry the proposals through – for this sort of change, it is not enough for there to be a bare majority, there needs to be a much stronger sense of widespread consent. In the end there was unanimity – even amongst those members of the PCC who couldn’t be present, four expressed a preference, and all four were in favour.
This was strangely humbling. I think in part it was humbling because there has been pain associated with the change, and undoubtedly – related to this and to other emphases that I have brought to my ministry here – some cannot participate in the process, and they choose to leave.
“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person’s enemies will be those of his own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me.”
I am still digesting everything that happened on Saturday morning. It is as if there was an endorsement not simply from the PCC but from the Spirit also, saying not just ‘keep going’ but ‘go further, do more!’ There is a cost to this; the challenge I face is how to ensure that the old testament heart remains a heart of flesh and doesn’t become a heart of stone.
And yet; the Lord is with me. I have felt very close to Him these past couple of months – to the extent that colleagues have remarked upon it. And He has given me the ability to see farther than most. This doesn’t make me infallible (hardly that!!), it doesn’t mean I won’t get some things completely wrong, especially with regard to details. But I have this vision of what is possible. And I must pursue it. It’s been creeping up on me slowly, and it isn’t something I fully understand, or can even describe. I feel frightened, and nervous, and excited all at the same time. What I am convinced of is that something remarkable is happening here in West Mersea. My task, my prayer, is that I can work out what God is doing – and then get out of the way.
O sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvellous things.
His right hand and his holy arm have gained him victory.
The Lord has made known his victory;
he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations.
He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel.
All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God.
Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth;
break forth into joyous song and sing praises.
Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody.
With trumpets and the sound of the horn
make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord.
Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it.
Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy
at the presence of the Lord, for he is coming to judge the earth.
He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.
(Psalm 98)
Banging on and on about country life…
And for a great site doing that about Mersea, go look at this.
Below the fold is an article I have put together for the parish magazine. Regular readers won’t find much new, but I wanted to share my musings with a wider audience. The picture above was taken tonight.
Laying George Herbert to rest
For the last two or three years, I have been having an ongoing conversation about the nature of my ministry in these parishes, both with wardens and PCCs, and through the use of study days in both East and West Mersea, exploring whether the expectations upon clergy are either reasonable or Christian (those who read my blog will have read even more of my thoughts on this issue). I thought it would be good to share my thinking more widely, through this article in the magazine, and to describe one of the fruits of the discipleship campaign that is closely linked in with this question.
People may sometimes hear me talking about the ‘George Herbert model’ of ministry. This is the form of ministry that the clergy are still trained in, that the Church of England has largely followed for four hundred years, and which governs the expectations of most people in England – whether churchgoers or not – about what the role of a priest is. It is derived from the ministry and writings of George Herbert, who was, after an academic training, installed as Rector of Bemerton, near Salisbury. It centres upon regular and routine pastoral visiting – the clergyman being available for conversation and simple ‘being with’ the members of the parish. It is a very attractive model of ministry. Unfortunately it is wholly untenable as a model for a contemporary incumbent, and I’d like to explain why.
George Herbert’s village had some 300 souls living within it. Not only was Herbert a full-time minister there, he was assisted by the ministry of several full-time curates. That is the context within which his model of ministry could work – it would be as if East Mersea had four full time clergy available to minister to the needs of the parishioners. Instead, in a benefice of some 10,000 population, and four different parishes with their own competing demands and expectations, there is one full time minister assisted (during the week), by one half-time minister, paid for by the generosity of the West Mersea congregation, and various lay and retired members of the ministry team. A model of ministry that was viable in George Herbert’s situation is simply not viable on Mersea in the 21st Century.
An instructive comparison can be drawn with the medical profession, which was also, originally, constructed around house to house visiting by the doctor. In response to the phenomenal growth in population, and demand upon their services, doctors adapted and developed the surgery system, whereby those who were unwell came to a central point in order to be ministered to, leading to gains in efficiency and collegiality amongst the medical profession. Broadly speaking, the number of doctors in the population has increased commensurately with the rise in population – in contrast, the number of Anglican clergy has more than halved through the 20th Century, and the decline has accelerated in recent decades. There are now more and more parishioners expecting support from less and less clergy.
This is an issue which is not unique to Mersea, and there has been a great deal of thinking within the Church of England about how to respond to this changed context. Bob Jackson, in his influential book ‘Hope for the Church’, describes different sized churches and the different forms of ministry required. This is his typology:
a) the family church (1 – 50 members); these are dominated by a handful of families and the pastor acts effectively as a local chaplain;
b) the pastoral church (50 – 150 members); here the minister is pastor to all the members of the church, and the relationship with the minister is key (for both growth and death); (these first two can more or less be managed on a George Herbert model of ministry, though not at the same time);
c) the multiple-benefice church, which can combine a number of the above, in which the minister supports various lay members to plug their own gaps; and
d) the programme church (150 – 400 members) where there is a team with specialisation, and the incumbent becomes more of a manager than a pastor, who “resources programmes, enables the ministry of others, gives dynamic vision & leads others in mission”.
The Mersea Benefice effectively includes all four: one programme-size church, one pastoral church and two family churches, all in one multiple-benefice. The simple consequence of this fact is that the model of ministry that the incumbent here has to adopt is very different to that of George Herbert! Herbert also operated within a context where Christianity was broadly accepted and understood; not a context where Christianity is widely seen as a discredited superstition, and where the work of mission is imperative.
Most importantly, there is a truth about Christian discipleship, which the George Herbert model has obscured, if not entirely eclipsed, and that is the fundamental calling to ministry made upon all the baptised, as a part of their own Christian faith. The pernicious side of the George Herbert model is that the priest carried out the ministry of the church on behalf of the congregation, giving rise to the assumption that unless the Christian who came to visit was wearing a dog collar then it wasn’t a ‘real’ action of the church community. This is an increasing problem today, and I do see it as one of the core tasks of the church community to challenge expectations and assumptions in this area. Accepting that the pastoral has priority – and yet that it is impossible for any one minister to carry it all out – I see an essential element as setting up a structure and environment within which the wider body can take forward this task. This has now begun in West Mersea, with the establishment of a pastoral group under the leadership of Rev. Mark and Terry Walker, our licensed Pastoral Assistant. There is a good Scriptural precedent for the situation that we face, and for the establishment of such a wider ministry, and that can be found in Acts 6.1-7, when the office of Deacon was insituted in order that the apostles might ‘give [their] attention to prayer and the ministry of the Word’. So in the first instance, when you become aware of someone in need of an initial pastoral visit, please contact either Terry or Mark.
Underlying this apostolic approach is the idea of a ‘spectrum of pastoral care’, rather like this: Prevention (eg teaching) -> Availability -> Casual contact -> Contact at church -> Home visits -> Counselling -> Crises. In parishes below a certain size the pastor can carry out all of these, and this was what made the George Herbert model workable. However, beyond a certain size, the priest has to specialise and choose which of those pastoral forms to carry out him or herself, and which need to be passed on to others.
Which brings me to the question of what my particular ministry is going to be concentrating on, here in Mersea. There are several factors feeding in to my reflections on this. To begin with my own context, I am completely deaf in my left ear (since birth), and this means that conversation, especially in noisy environments, is extremely draining for me, and I have to be judicious in how I use my capacity for listening. Paradoxically, it has meant that, particularly in one-on-one situations, I can listen well, and I have grounds for thinking that a significant part of my vocation is in ‘spiritual direction’. That might be compared to routine visiting in the same way that surgery is compared to the work of a general practitioner – some elements of spiritual health require a more specialised engagement, which I believe, deo gratia, is something I have a capacity for and calling to. This ministry, inevitably, operates beneath the horizon of visibility of what the congregation sees, but it is a significant element of what I do.
The second factor is a wider understanding of my own gifts, and which elements of the job will allow my own own vocation to flourish. I greatly enjoy the teaching side of the ministry, which is most visible in the Learning Church sequence, but also through regular preaching (which I would like to give much more of my time to) and through things like the confirmation classes and the house groups. In so far as it is possible to specialise within the ‘spectrum of pastoral care’, then, it is the elements in the middle which I seek to encourage other members of the Body to take on, so that I can focus on the two extremes of teaching and spiritual direction.
In addition to this, I also see availability as important. In the last few weeks, for example, I was telephoned by someone who has been given a diagnosis of terminal cancer, and – naturally – wanted to have a chat. Thankfully, I was able to minister to her, but that can only happen when there is sufficient ‘give’ in the timetable – and this raises the question of overall workload, including how many hours I work per week. It might be helpful to list my official duties (not in order of priority, and it may be incomplete):
1. Incumbency duties. Fundamentally this is about discerning God’s will for four church communities; more mundanely these are the unavoidable administrative elements of my job. So: chairing four parish church councils; the associated committees (worship, teaching, communications, standing etc); regular meetings with wardens (eight of them!); all the paraphernalia associated with this.
2. Staff management. There is quite a team developing here, so as well as things like arranging the rota, this includes bilateral meetings on a regular basis with the various members of the team.
3. Worship. The leading and preparation of worship, especially at major feasts. This includes music, which varies in its demands on my time.
4. Pastoralia. I have lead pastoral responsibility for the parishioners; in practice much of this is now delegated to the pastoral group, so I have more of an oversight role. I do see a handful of parishioners for spiritual conversations, this is a variable load.
5. Occasional offices. Baptisms, weddings and funerals.
6. Teaching. Including sermons, bible groups, confirmation classes and the Learning Church sequence.
7. Intercession and private devotions. Praying for the parish and for particular individuals within it; making sure I have enough spiritual fuel in my own tank.
8. Chair of Churches Together in Mersea
9. Warden of Ordinands for 3 deaneries
10. Tutor for Eastern Region Ministry Training Course
Generally speaking I work between 55 and 60 hours a week on these tasks. However, I’ve recently come to the conclusion that this is unsustainable, and that it is unfair, on my family most especially, for me to maintain that workrate indefinitely. I am therefore planning on reducing the hours of work down towards 40 or so, principally through reducing what I do on Wednesdays (my day off being Thursday). It is, of course, more than questionable to think of the priestly vocation in terms of hours spent ‘working’, as the whole point of the vocation is that it allows me to become the person whom God is calling me to be – but that simply returns back to the question of specialisation, and what I am going to concentrate my time on. I am very fond of the writings of Eugene Peterson, who summarises the pastoral task under three headings: to pray and lead worship; to teach and to preach; and to exercise overall pastoral care for the congregation, especially in spiritual direction. Those remain the core elements of my vocation as I see them, and what I intend to focus my energies upon.
When a priest is ordained, they are charged to ‘take the good shepherd as the pattern of [their] calling’ – in other words to look to Jesus and take him as the exemplar of ministry to be followed. Jesus was an itinerant teacher, who concentrated most of his effort upon a small group of disciples, teaching them how to carry forward this different way of life that we now call the church. His pastoral side was episodic and unprogrammed; most of the time those in need came directly to him for healing. Above all, Jesus was robust in carving out time to be spent with the Father, for his re-creation, which resourced him in everything else that he did. It is remarkable how unlike Jesus’ ministry the George Herbert model actually is; and it is abundantly clear to me who I must follow.
My friend PB, who seems to be responsible for my musical education at the moment (MadPriest will be pleased) took me off to Naaaaarwich last night to see Martyn Joseph. Who was really rather good. Actually shook hands with the man at the end of it, who struck me as a real human being, strikingly humble given the context. So I like him even more than I did before. I told him to keep up with the protests and the prophetic (you can see understand why I like his songs so much).
How did we end up here?
…we looked at each other and started to laugh
~~~
A rather positive APCM tonight; most especially when compared to last year, which has to count as one of my lowest moments in post. The Lord is with us.
A bit more navel-gazing…
Been musing much on my spiritual director’s question, and discussing it with my wife in those brief moments of adult conversation that are presently possible. So let’s try and unpick this a little further.
The sense of conflict that I feel is that a significant chunk of my energy and attention goes towards the nexus of ‘Peak Oil’ questions – all that the Learning Church sequence has been discussing, all that might come under the heading of ‘prophetic ministry’. This inevitably means that I don’t give more time to other church or priestly activities, and so I am perennially afflicted by a guilty conscience. Yet the truth is that a) I do not doubt that those activities are core to my vocation, and that I am being led by God when I am involved in them; b) I do not believe that any person would be able to meet all the expectations generated in this post by the continuing ‘George Herbert model’ of ministry; c) I am setting up various systems to take forward that wider work of the church in positive and creative ways (that is, I do believe that my ministry here is bearing some sort of fruit). I remain, fundamentally, very happy here, with a sense of peace that I am where God wants me to be.
My wife described it to me as ‘you have a (more than) full time occupation, you also have a full time preoccupation – and all your other commitments, eg a family with three under-fives wanting your time!’ To go back into academia wouldn’t solve my problem – there would still be the full time expectations relating to academia, which my preoccupation – which, to emphasise, I do see as vocational – would prevent me from engaging with to the extent that exterior demands would wish.
It comes back to what priestly ministry is about. Is it still the George Herbert model, or is there room – drawing on what a stipend is intended for (to free the minister to pursue God’s intentions for them) – to shape this ministry in a Sam-shaped way? The parson is supposed to be the person within a community – who, through being enabled to be themselves, frees up others to be themselves in the light of God. I do see that as core to what we are supposed to do. So I do not serve by lopping off the bits of me that do not fit into the mould – that is not an advertisement for life in abundance. One of the things that I touched on with my director is that I have come to the point where, for the first time in my life, I am consciously choosing to disappoint the expectations that people have in me. That can only be a good thing, however strenuous the transition is.
And the conclusion from all this – as discussed with beloved – is rather a simple one: barring any deus ex machina interventions, we’ll be staying here for another decade or so. Which is a prospect which brings peace to the soul.
This is my friend Stephen (who sometimes comments here as ‘Ricey’), on whom I was privileged to join in the laying on of hands on Tuesday, as he was commissioned as a Fire Safety Evangelist (Church Times report here). This was one of those occasions where everything seemed incredibly right, and God’s blessings were both abundant and evident.
Stephen had his hands anointed – may God prosper the work of his hands; saving lives, saving souls.