From the Archives: Minister's Musings August 2006 I'm trying to write the latest letter for one of the local publications in MLPK, and have just checked the letters for the last few years. (Whether I'm trying to find something to steal or trying avoid repetition I'll leave you to decide!)

However, having read last August's I thought (in my vanity) that maybe it deserved an airing - to prove I'm still alive and, if nothing else, to remind us about the change in the weather!

As I write this we are all sweltering in the heat wave. (I can't predict what it will be like by the time you read this letter, of course)! Still, a little reading around in newspapers and on the Internet finds plenty of stories of drought, complaints about petty regulations, and, of course, comparisons to 1976.

I'm old enough to remember that summer, but not in any real detail. Old enough to ride around on my bike with my friends, no money worries, no concept of drugs, alcohol or sex. The privileged life of a child. The only different thing about 1976 for me was seeing lots of seriously brown lawns. I've not noticed them here in 2006!

Are your memories of '76 as simple and nostalgic? (If you have any, of course)! Nostalgia, fondly looking back at the past, is something most of us engage in. We might not quite say “when I was young...” like the stereotypical senior citizen, but the thought's there. The danger of thinking that somehow life was better then. Simpler. Slower. More tuneful, even!

But was it really? In some ways, maybe. But in most cases life was just different. We've seen lots of technological progress, personal computers, mobile phones, iPods and countless other things. But have they all made life better? All I know is that nobody asked us. I doubt if any of us have ever really thought it through. It just happened. Like Topsy and Tim we “just growed.” Technology and thought progressed, and we consumed.

Nostalgia can be a way of anchoring us in time, giving us some landmarks in our lifelines. Even so the saying is true “nostaligia ain't what it used to be!” Most of the time it wasn't quite as golden as we remember it. Human nature hasn't changed, even if we might cringe at some of the attitudes of 30 years ago or so. (Just watch old episodes of some old sitcoms to find them – and not just The Good Life!) The cure for nostalgia is engagement. Finding what it really was like.

And God, as revealed in Jesus, hasn't changed either. As a society our ignorance of Christian faith has increased, as a culture our understanding is disappearing. The cure remains the same – to find in the pages of the story of Jesus a character and a message as relevant now as it was 30 years ago or 300 hundred years ago, and beyond. The true question – with nostalgia, with faith, with all of life – is whether we are willing to find out.

I trust that this month, will be one of happy, and accurate, memories!

Labels: Faith, Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 9:08 am 1 comments

  Pointless I heard on the radio the other day that a good dairy was one which was written with no real readership in mind. Just written, whether as an obsession, an aide memoire or as a cathartic activity made no difference. Which just about sinks most political diaries these days, like Alistair Campbell's for example.

It made me wonder a little where blogging fitted in. Blogging, as has been written by far more erudite and thoughtful folks than myself, is a social phenomenon which has exposed the degree to which many normal people write. In blogging, as in so much else of life, I feel like an amateur, that is, when I'm not worried that I'm a fraud and somebody will realise this one day!

This blog, like many others is public. Therefore it is written with at least a degree of expectation that others might read it. Does it then, by the standards of those critics of diarists (above), mean that it has little literary value? Am I, by even posing the question, to be seen as one writing for an audience?

And, of course, if part of the value of a diary comes from writing and sharing those confidential little details that we would not wish to see as matters of public knowledge, should I really admit to being at a very low ebb at present? Perhaps I should save that for the other, anonymous blog. (Which incidentally I have only posted to once, like the previous version I tried a while back. And what does that say about me?! Even more annoying is the fact that I think that the name is, though I should't say so myself, a really good one. It might have to be applied here when I finally move on...)

Back to the initial point of this rambling: I am absolutely wrecked at the moment, both physically and emotionally (spiritually?). It's just been such a roller-coaster over the last few days, what with trip to GPMC and all the thoughts and opportunities stirred up by it, a lost day off and 3 disturbed nights with the children. There have been some wonderful positives, such as the news about Gloranthan canonicity, and a superb time or conversation, prayer and simply being, with Alain, the minister for the Christian Fellowship.

None of which hides the fact that as an allegedly self-employed individual (ask HM Revenue and Customs if you don't believe me!), provided with an income and housing to enable me to "perform my ministry" I could appear to be swanning around doing nothing. In fact I am swanning around doing very little, with minimal motivation and energy. Inspiration for a sermon? Hah, fat chance. No real target and no real overseer. Pretty much a total inspiration failure in fact.

Except that is, when it comes to writing this.

Pointless, and very, very odd.... One definition of sin is "missing the target." Perhaps the real issue is knowing quite what the target is...

Labels: Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 11:53 am 2 comments

  In praise of the Orbital Car park... not Very tired today after "investing" my day off in a trip to Grand-Parental Midlands City. It's not that I mind driving, I don't, but the M1 and the M25 are a rather potent combination, although moreso coming South than going North. I'm very glad I had a reasonable run up and a good time there, because it felt like we crawled en masse all the way between the M1 and well-beyond the M11 junctions of the M25.

But now, having referred to the witty (?) post title, here's the meat...

I had the opportunity to meet a couple of key staff at the University in GPMC with a stake in the appointment of the new 0.5 Chaplain, but neither of whom will be present on the interview day next week. But before that I made sure I had the time to do a little sleuthing about the reality of the parish which makes up the other 0.5 of the post.

What I hadn't reckoned on was the emotions that would be stirred on going into the city though. Not so much the rather unexpected familiarity with much of the central ring road (whether they call it that or not) because in the mid-eighties I tended to visit Nan on about a fortnightly basis after Granddad died, but the feelings that bubbled up upon on driving past the familiar statue and park close to the old house, or the familiar names of the streets. I almost wanted to stop, get out of the car and look at their old house in Forest Road. To somehow grasp the past of 22 years ago, almost to go back in time and see Tom again. Forgive the sentimentality if I say that I'm sure I will again, but you know what I mean. I don't think of myself as a very emotional person, but it was simply a very moving experience which hit me totally unexpectedly. Not quite coming back home, but not far from it.

The parish was everything I had expected, although again it was the emotional resonances that hit me. A ground visit, coupled with my research on the internet (thank you Office of National Statistics!) had confirmed what the Parish Profile had lightly touched upon - a Parish of quite stark contrasts - as well as raising a number of questions about the state of the congregation and their geographical distribution and social expectations.

On the one hand, as illustrated in the Profile, there's the charming rural idyll of mellow, honeyed stone, the country pub facing the church, looking for all the world as if hidden in the depths of Leicestershire and pulled out from my former deanery - even down to the brewer's ales in the pub. (Shame I don't think much of their beer!) Yet within a stone's throw of the Vicarage the warm country stone and leafy tranquility disappear to be replaced by the familiar architecture of the inter- and post-war housing estates.

The contrast was quite disturbing. My last place had a small council estate, and there's one just beyond the borders of MLPK. I know that the encounters I've had before with residents have been very good, satisfying. But this was a pretty big area. Some of the streets looked very familiar and reminded me that often the computer acronym WYSIWYG applies. What-You-See-Is-What-You-Get, at least with regards to people. A sort of no-nonsense openness and baptism visits competing with the TV (although I've had that here too...) Having said all that it still came as quite a shock. What I know in facts and figures translated into bricks-and-mortar reality.

Still, it was a good shock to have. To remind me of my preconceptions. To remind me how privileged we are in MLPK. And to spark some very important questions that will need to be asked at interview... questions which I really hope will prove my hunches wrong, but will probably prove them right. If nothing else it has given me some very good ideas for what might need to be done in the Parish, and of the starting point. It could be a long haul, but I'm not Superman, and all I can play is my part. Nobody else's.

Then on to the University. A quick shufti at the smaller site before driving back to the larger one where the Chaplaincy has a physical presence. It had a lot of resonances with St Martin's in Lancaster, or Liverpool Hope, the main difference being that as a secular foundation it has no chapel or established Christian tradition. I had the privilege of an hour or so's conversation with the Pro-Vice Chancellor (and why do all these different places have different titles for the Head Honcho?) which was friendly, informal and informative, helping me to get a picture of the place, where things had come from, and where they might be going.

After that a chat with the Director of Student Services, which was interesting in coming at things from a different perspective, as well as with the dynamics changed by the arrival of D, the other short-listed candidate who had managed to get lost at the other campus and was also friendly and affable, despite the embarassment of arriving late. D looks to be a strong candidate too, so Thursday next week could be interesting.

Nevertheless I want this post! I won't deny that there are some fairly daunting dimensions, but also some very appealing prospects. There's no such thing as the perfect post - and anyway if there's no way of being stretched there's no way of growing either. I do have another possibility, of a similar nature (0.5 Assistant Priest, 0.5 Chaplain) and in another area of the country that I know well (Pretty North-Western Town), but I'm not taking my eye off this one! I have no intention of spilling D's blood on the church carpet - he's far too nice a man - and anyway the secret is to use a blunt instrument (allegedly) but even so....

Prayers for His will to be done would, of course, be greatly appreciated, dear readers.

Labels: Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 2:24 pm 0 comments

  Muddled Thinking? It's probably the sign of a fizzing brain - which is a very good thing on a Monday morning as I might get some quality creativity done - that I picked up on the following point on the news.

The body representing Fertility Specialists across Europe is calling for a harmonisation of standards across countries to enable equality of access to services. Which is all well and good, I suppose (although I'll be a tad contentious and say that while I think all women might have a reasonable expectation of bearing children that that does not equate to a right to a child).

My prognostications aside though, the spokesman then went on to say that this call was being made due to rising phenomenon of "Fertility Tourism" - the phenomenon of traveling overseas to get access to better facilities and ranges of treatments.

Forgive my pedantry, but isn't a tourist one traveling for pleasure? From the little I know or have gleaned (including from medical professionals) about the travails of fertility treatment, it's not something a normal person would seek to do for enjoyment, surely?

More slack phraseology! :)

Labels: Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 7:46 am 0 comments

  Strangers and Aliens While I would hesitate to call myself a townie, I'm not really a country lad either. My home stomping ground in the Midlands had farmland within easy walking distance (in fact even in sight of my bedroom window for the first few years).

But my passing acquaintance with dairy farming doesn't stretch to the phenomenon seen each year here, as scores of foreign teenagers descend on eurosceptic Kent to pick the fruit crops that few of our local young people will touch.

It makes this BBC news article all that more relevant. I'm sure none of the shoppers at my local ASDA would miss the busloads of migrant shoppers who appear in the summer months, but I bet they'd miss the strawberries and fruit, sourced from within the county with great fanfare. Which appears to be a real possibility if this report is to be believed.

And why won't our own folks do the job? For the same reason that Polish Plumbers have become legendary: the relative expectations of pay and workloads.

(I'm also forced to admire Father Noel, who each year puts up signs in a variety of European languages and scripts to offer Holy Communion to any migrant workers as may wish it of an evening. I don't think he gets many takers, and I fail to see how they could understand the English of the Prayer Book, but it's a practical response to the care of the alien within our midst.)

Labels: Faith, Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 10:31 am 0 comments

  Shock of the Old? Just a quick reflection. Here in MLPK there was a "Family Fun Day" today, an event organised by the Traders'/Tenants' Association as a fund-raiser for the local hospice, and, incidentally to raise the profile (and hopefully the income of the traders, despite the presence of a small "market").

I'm not one for fairs, fetes and markets, and yet here we have a re-invention of the community-building event, driven ultimately by free-market enterprise (the motive for profit) rather than "simple" community-mindedness. To build community is to implicitly raise the profile of traders within said community. The tradition of the church-run fete involves the creation of social capital, but with a subtly different objective.

As is often my way, however, that wasn't the intention of this post. What I found most thought-provoking was how in this "rural-idyll" (acknowledged as an over-statement, but nevertheless containing a grain of truth about the precept ions of MLPK), how here we saw a further appropriation of "village tradition" in an attempt to create community. That is in having a group of children from one of the local schools dance around a May (or more specifically, June) Pole.

Here, in a new-build settlement where no house is older than 15 years in age, where the oldest building is an art deco Control Tower, we have nothing less than a reversion to the (allegedly Pre-Christian, pagan fertility) rites around the phallic totem. A point to provoke thought and reflection, perhaps?

I wonder if any other similar (unconscious?) reversions are to be found abroad? Comments and reflections, folks?

Labels: Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 4:23 pm 0 comments

  On the death of a dream, and after How can you speak of failure in the context of mission? Even in terms of regular ministry? I have had numerous people tell me that there is no such thing as failure in this context - the nearest thing to seems to be to say that you failed to reach your expectations, or that they were unrealistic. Not to mention the truism that we can never truly know the value of our endeavours in the longer term.

All these things are true. And I have failed. I've failed to live up to my potential, and I need to address that.

Now that the Fellowship have appointed their own full-time Minister I can let go properly of any hope of unity in the form I had envisaged when I arrived. Now I can look more reasonably at the contributory factors and decide what constitutes my failure.

I still believe that God called us here. Even if enthusiasm blinded me to any reasonable caution I should have had. Curacy does not train you for mission. I understand that a lot better now than I did then. It teaches you your place within the institution that is the church, whether that is the immediate local, parochial context, the wider structure, and even the physical building that is the church. It does not prepare you for an enthusiastic group of Christians, mainly from outside your "tradition" and all their expectations. Expectations which have arisen in the absence of a Minister, but with just as many implicit preconceptions of how church is to be done and how faith is to be lived out. It does not prepare you for all the issues which come with a lack of focal point in the built environment.

I came with ideas, but no clearly articulated vision. Instead I had hoped to spend time meeting people, learning about the opportunities, the expectations, that lay on the ground. With hindsight I allowed myself to be rushed into action. My insecurity in the face of a different vision and 'institution' set me on a confrontational/competitive course almost immediately. I'm not saying I'm the only one who made mistakes: there have been (unintentional, and dare I say those whch look frightening close to deliberate) mistakes by all parties. I'm not enough of a spiritual masochist to say it's all my own fault, but there are things I have to take responsibility for.

For an unwillingness to stand my ground a lot earlier than I did, as much as the places where I buckled under the pressure of expectations.

For the creeping apathy which sees the cause as lost and an attendant unwillingness to really ask for help, or to act upon the offers made.

For failing to perceive the way ahead in nurturing those I have care of, as much as seeking to spark interest in the pastoral enquirers.

For seeing the negative in the situations, "the iceberg rather than the promised land."

For failing to act on so many bright ideas (even if some other discerning individuals around would be helpful rather than the ovine tendency to say "if you say so").

I'm sure there's more of the same. Maybe there is no such thing as failure in toto, but I have failed. I have failed to truly live my calling. I have failed to live the life that marks out Christian faith as distinctive and so failed to draw others closer to Christ.

Maybe this is all part of the grief process, of letting go for that which is not to be.

Thank God that we believe in forgiveness and restoration, or more to the point that he has already demonstrated it in Jesus.

"If we confess our sins he is faithful and just. He will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness."

And to live that means to continually confront and battle with my own fallible nature, which will find this stream-of-consciousness theological reflection preferable to the important tasks of the day!

Somehow the Collect for today seemed to help crystalise these ponderings, and it never does any harm to end with a prayer...

God our redeemer,
who called your servant Boniface
to preach the gospel among the German people
and to build up your Church in holiness:
grant that we may preserve in our hearts
that faith which he taught with his words
and sealed with his blood,
and profess it in lives dedicated to your Son
Jesus Christ our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen

...although maybe ending in response to prayer might be even better! So how am I going to live the Gospel today?

Labels: Faith, Ponderings

  ¶ 8:29 am 1 comments

  Stories and Values I have an aversion to Enid Blyton. Don't ask me why. I don't know. I have never knowlingly as a child read any of her stories, nor had them read to me. They seemed pretty old fashioned when I was growing up. Biggles, yes. And if I could get them all cheap I would (and I mean cheap!) But not Enid Blyton.

Nevertheless when LM is due a bedtime story it's hard to refuse her choices, unless they are obviously books way to young for her. We have plenty of hand-downs, including the wonderfully illustrated Ladybird Books I remember as a child, as well as plenty of things we have not bought. Which explains how I came across The China Rabbit. If the copyright dates are to be believed its from 1923.

It's a little twee - a story set in the nursery about the antics of the toys and what happens when an imp appears out of a mousehole and comes to abduct the talking-doll. Despite the best efforts of sailor to protect her the only way the imp is defeated is when the China Rabbit tells sailor to throw him at the imp. From the mantlepiece. With the inevitable consequences. The villain is defeated not by strength but by sacrifice. There's restorative justice too, since the imp happens to have some magical glue and is not released until he has restored the thousands of tiny pieces of china back into place and returned the rabbit to life.

It just struck me that I haven't read any similar stories to LM at all. In 5 years. Fun stories. Enjoyable stories. Lots of them. Plenty of valuable stuff about sharing. Stuff about cunning defeating bad and naughty people. But nothing about sacrifice, about elevating others needs above your own. And, come to think about it, nothing about putting things right either, unless I'm greatly mistaken.

I wonder what other similar stories there are around, or maybe, used to be around. How many "mainstream" attitudes of former generations have been lost or bowdlerised beyond recognition. And of course, without trying to sound like a fuddy-duddy, what effect they have had on our communal nurture and ensuing common life? (And I include myself in that too!)

Labels: Faith, Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 9:30 am 1 comments

  Stories and Community My old colleague Andy from theological college (which is advertising for a new College Chaplain - hurrah! - but only half-time - alas!) has posted a piece on a project in his neck of the woods about preserving community identity in the form of stories.

It made me wonder about MLPK. His assertion was that a place may exist without stories, but it cannot be a community without stories. I think he might have hit on something (or cleverly recycled it, anyway). How many stories does it take to form a Community? Is there a critical mass to put into the Community Chest? I can think of some stories here, but precious few...

Just random thoughts.

Labels: Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 7:30 pm 1 comments

  On Third Thoughts... Most of my regular readers will know my mixture of feelings about ministry here in MLPK. About the factors I cannot change, some of which I need to let drop and leave in God's care, and the ones I wouldn't want to change. I'm exhausted after a very busy two weeks. The sort of satisfied exhaustion that comes from knowing you've been doing the right thing.

I don't know how busy most of my clerical readers are, but for me four weddings (in three different churches - with rehearsals), two mid-week services (in two different venues), one baptism and one funeral (in a cemetary I'd never visited before), plus two 8am Communions out of parish constitute a busy fortnight - especially when my "home fixtures", for lack of a better phrase, are done using church in a box (or from two suitcases to be correct).

Add into the equation (if I haven't mentioned it already) the car breaking down on the way to the funeral (having already put on my cassock for lack of knowledge of the cemetary) and arriving in an AA van, and I think it's fair to say it's been a rather eventful few days!

The point is that now the Christian Fellowship here have actually got their minister, and being suitably refreshed by a round of out of area activities, I'm far less fussed about getting away from MLPK. Having said that there are several three interesting possiblities in the Church Times this week (and if you think you know me well enough to guess them, then why not have a go?) and I feel a lot less stressed and intimidated by matters here.

On the one hand I've felt a lot happier of late for simply acknowledging there is a problem, but on the other I know that the tiredness and burnout won't go away. Plenty of people don't want to see us go, and I still worry somewhat that it'll all collapse in a heap if we do, but the longer-term issues remain unsolved.

All in all it means more prayer and discernment is needed. Last Bank Holiday (I think) I had the best time of praise and worship for a few years, even if it was just me, my guitar and the Spirit, but I still don't really know the way ahead. I have to plan here as if I have no intention of leaving, and plan my escape as if I have no intention of remaining! We asked God to make it clear, but I'm no way clear enough to phone the Bishop and say actually we got it all horribly wrong...

All a bit like the waiting between Ascension and Pentecost, perhaps - as long as we remember that the disciples didn't really have any clear idea of what they were waiting for either.....

Labels: Faith, Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 6:56 pm 1 comments

  Democracy in action? 3 candidates,
2 parties.
2 votes,
1 pencil.
No point,
no relevance?

Local democracy in action. Don't hog the pencil.

Honestly, I really find it hard to say very much good about the whole proceedings. All I can say is that because I know one of the candidates a little that I know his intentions are good and honourable....

and that's enough to quash the cynicism, if not to raise the excitement.

Labels: Grumbles, Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 1:07 pm 0 comments

  As I see it... We dog-collared types have all seen the ads in the Church Times and the Church of England Newspaper, and similar publications.

So as a bit of therapy, how do you think those looking for clergy to fill their posts would respond to this?

EDIT: Apologies for the 2 minor spelling/grammar/vocab errors - I was in a hurry! :)

Labels: Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 9:24 am 0 comments

  Road to Nowhere? I'm sure some of my readers will remember the 1980s song, even if, like me they'd be strecthed to remember who performed it. You will, also, I suspect have divined the nature of this post!

So, not only did I withdraw from Small Midlands City (and feel a little bad for doing so when there is nothing that the folks could have done about it), but neither am I going to Nice Team Vicar Job Just Down The Road. Then again, nobody is , they decided not to appoint. I am disappointed, all the more so for two reasons, revealed after discussion with Neighbouring Archdeacon.

One is the answer to the question I posed a while back - can you be too honest? The answer seems to be yes. In a situation where unanimity cannot be found saying anything which might bring doubts is not a good idea, especially if you volunteer that information. I don't think I talked myself out of the post, but I could have stayed stumm and aided it. Still, I am me.

The second thought is at present nothing more than a suspicion. A doubt. A possibility of an ironic twist. I remember a conversation with my training incumbent some years ago. The gist of it was to always be looking towards the post after the one you're applying for. The original context was a particularly pleasant, and from the paperwork at least, rather comfortable University Chaplaincy (from a newish Oxbridge College, IIRC). There were no doubts about whether I could do it, more about how it would be perceived by potential new posts when the time came to move on.

And herein lies the rub. By having been doing a highly-unusual, mission-based job over the past few years I do not have much in the way of experience when it comes to running a regular parish. Worse than that any experience I did have a curate is now rather dated.

It would be the cruellest irony of all to find that in exploring "new forms" of mission (or whatever you wish to call it), going to the edges in the way that we are being encouraged to do and has to be done, that I should find myself hindered in returning to something a little more mainstream.

It's only a suspicion, not a guaranteed fact. But it does make you wonder...

Has anyone else come up with any similar experiences?

Labels: Faith, Life, Ponderings

  ¶ 6:52 am 1 comments

  Proof-reading If David Blaine wanted to prove his divinity by being tortured, killed, buried and brought back to life three days later he'd want to do it in Trafalgar Square with 24 hour broadcast coverage and sponsored for a good cause.

Not to mention, of course, the presence of a skilled executioner, a panel of medical experts and specialists from the funeral industry.

Yet, in a well-planned manoever by night, instead the Officer in Charge is seized by the Anti-Revolutionary Guards, hauled before a kangaroo court and executed along with the scum of the earth.

No dictated confessions or maps of where the boundary between Gethsemene and the rest should lie. But a death, slow and painful with the acknowledgement of a multi-lingual statement of his divinty.

Then to a cold hard grave, loaned in retrospect rather than donated. Silence as the crucified engages in the ultimate rescue mission, to storm the very gates of hell.

Yet on the third day in a surprise move the Creator springs him from captivity, and releases him to an unexpecting world in a new, perfect (birthday) suit.

And even then, in contravention of all expectations, the ex-detainee gives no news conference; no six-figure sums for interviews with Mother and the Son of God.

Biographies are left for later, while all he displays for dis-believing world are the prints of peace.

Proof-enough?

---

Happy Easter!

Labels: Faith, Ponderings

  ¶ 6:37 am 1 comments