Testing the waters - The Second Sunday of Advent

As part of my vocation discernment process, I have been assigned on a "mini-placement" at lovely parish not far from where we live. The church, St Mary Magdalen's, has an outstanding lady vicar, called Charlotte, who is a real dynamo! She's visionary and very inspiring, yet calm, and down-to-earth. Charlotte offered me the opportunity to give a sermon during this Advent season, and today was my big day.

When she first suggested I preach, I panicked. "What, who me?!" was my internal response. But, it felt cowardly to say "No, thank you." And, an opportunity for growth and exploration to say, "Yes." Planning and prepping the sermon as difficult as I'd imagined it would be.

Unlike my 'day job' teaching/lecturing on Shakespeare, where I have a regular, captive audience at my mercy for well over 3 hours at a stretch, and feel as if I could push the metaphoric "Play button" in the back of my head, and discourse at length on "Auto-pilot", I felt a real constraint in this process. It felt comparatively like so little time, with so much more important information to communicate and express. It also felt more delicate, more precious. A real privilege and honour.

The texts for this Sunday, the 2nd Second Advent, are centred on John the Baptist - not the easiest topic to cover, as far as I'm concerned. But, I gave it a shot. And, the feedback was very positive and supportive. (The congregation had been warned it was my first sermon!) They are a really lovely parish, very warm, friendly and diverse, with a good range of ages and constituencies: young families, singles, kids, older people, etc. And, of course, my "high church, Episcopalian background" set me up with a good foundation for pitch, tone and style. (Thank you, St Luke's!)

Toward the end of the service, we sang "Whom Shall I Send", an old favourite hymn of mine from my Catholic university days. It felt as if Fr Labran was there, wishing me well and saying "Well done."

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Sermon for 8 December 2013

“Voices in the Wilderness”

“In those days John the Baptist came into the wilderness of Judea proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” For he is the one about whom Isaiah the prophet had spoken: “The voice of one shouting in the wilderness, Prepare the way for the Lord, make his paths straight.’”               (Matt 3: 1-3)

I don’t know about you, but I have always found John the Baptist more than a little intimidating. I recall quite vividly seeing Franco Zeffirelli’s iconic film Jesus of Nazareth with Robert Powell as a gently stoical Christ, and which featured Michael York as a heavily bearded and severely bedraggled wild man, John the Baptist.

Even at the tender age of 10, I was struck by John’s courage and conviction, his willingness to sacrifice himself to proclaim the Good News, but I also felt a deep sense of discomfiture and unease with his missionary zeal, his rather aggressive methods and tactics. I remember feeling embarrassed and deeply uncomfortable watching John berating and humiliating Herod and his wife, Herodias, publicly for all to see and witness. If this was a chief example of Christian evangelism, it was indeed a tough one to follow.

Undoubtedly, we can, in equal measures, be both inspired and overwhelmed by the examples of saints and evangelists, past and present – such as the 20^th Century martyrs who bedeck the Great West Door of Westminster Abbey – whose extraordinary lives were each characterised by a fearless faith, and the same courage and conviction.

However, courage and conviction have their place in the small moments of life as well. We are not all called to die for our faith, or to eat locust and honey in the wilderness, but we are called to live with courage and conviction, and to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ with passion and purpose. How we achieve this is as unique as we are, in our own individual circumstances and situations.

I believe the great Christian thinker and writer, C. S. Lewis, recently honoured with a plaque in Poet’s Corner in Westminster Abbey, provides us with a very useful example. In 1941, C. S. Lewis took on a commission from the BBC for Christian advocacy to present “a positive restatement of Christian doctrine in lay language” for the average man. Lewis was the perfect man for the job. His voice, described as “one part Belfast, nine parts Oxford”, was one of compassionate and sensitive authority. More important than his elocution, was his sense of himself as a “fallible chap speaking to other fallible souls”. This came across clearly over the airwaves, offering listeners the requisite combination for conveying the “awkward seriousness and strangeness of Christian faith”: Lewis possessed a tangible sense of ordinariness, coupled with the possibility of transfiguration.

Lewis was more than acutely aware of his audience, and the incredible need to “meet them where they were”, in the wilderness of his time. His wartime audience, huddled around their wirelesses, amid sirens and rubble, in streets of ruined houses, hearing the nightly bombers overhead, were seeking a cosmic world view that not only spoke to their experience, but also enabled them to make sense of it. His words reached hundreds of thousands, and then millions of listeners, who soon became readers.

For it is, of course, through his writings that most of us – particularly in the post-war generation – have come to know and love C. S. Lewis. I remember encountering The Chronicles of Narnia, and particularly, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe as a child: roughly around the same period as seeing Zefirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth. The incredibly produced animated film brought Lewis’ timeless characters to life. I remember weeping as I’d never wept before at the demise of Aslan, and the joy and recognition I felt when he returned from the dead. “It’s Jesus, in disguise!” I remember declaring quite vividly through a surge of pre-adolescent tears.

The beauty of Narnia, and the magic of his portrayal of Aslan, lies within Lewis’ bold and daring attempt to recreate profoundly and viscerally  – on the page or screen, for readers and viewers of whatever age – what is like to encounter and believe in Jesus Christ.

As Former Archbishop Rowan Williams put it: Lewis’ gift lies in making fresh that which is thought to be familiar. Sharing the “Good News”, he says, is not so much a matter of telling others what they have NEVER heard, as much as it is persuading them that there are things that they have NOT heard, when they think they have heard it all.

This leads me back to Troublesome John. What can we learn from John the Baptist? What were the key features of his ministry: Purpose, Preaching, Passion, and Personal Witness. These are the hallmarks of every evangelist – of whatever variety or style. John’s essential message in his preaching was: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" (Mt 3:2).

Rather tellingly, the word “repent” in Greek translates as: “To change one’s mind.” That, I think is the central point of evangelism – to offer others a fresh perspective, a new way of seeing or experiencing the Love of God.

And so, what about us – in our modern day wilderness of cynicism, strife, corruption, commercialisation and overarching secularism? Not many of us would be drawn to a life wearing clothes made of camel hair, eating locusts and honey, whilst hurling admonishments from the rooftops – although I do actually know a few people who might like to have a go! Similarly, we also may not be gifted with the quiet genius of a C. S. Lewis, to create volumes that inspire generations, or to produce a prolific flood of Christ-inspired words read by millions.

How can we, then, in small but substantial ways advance the Kingdom of God, to prepare the Way of the Lord, to be ourselves ‘Voices Crying out in the Wilderness’ of our daily lives?  

Here’s a small range of possibilities for us to think about during Advent, Christmas and beyond: -

* If you are sending out Christmas cards or issuing a Christmas letter to friends and family this year, why not select a religious themed card, one with a Bible verse, or add your own personal favourite Biblical text to your cards and letters. 

* Invite a non-churchgoing friend to the Carol Service or Midnight Eucharist.

* Saying sorry, and really meaning it. Unfortunately, this time of year can place us all under a considerable amount of stress. And stress can lead to grumpiness, moodiness, crankiness, and short fuses particularly with those nearest and dearest to us – spouses, family, friends or coworkers. This season, in addition to saying “sorry”, let us try making a real effort to change, and put an end to that kind of behaviour.

* Rediscovering Prayer. This Advent, why not commit to developing a more disciplined prayer life. We cannot overestimate the power of prayer. Praying for the world, praying for the Church, praying for others and praying with others. Resolve to pray with your spouse, children, neighbour, or a friend, if you’ve not done so previously. And, praying for ourselves: that God will give us the grace and the opportunity in the coming year to be “lights in the darkness.”

Perhaps, to alter slightly the words of Mother Teresa, who encourages us to commit “Random acts of kindness”, this Advent we could strive to commit “Random acts of Christianity.”

At the heart of Christ’s message is the unconditional and redeeming Love of God. We know from that oft-quote passage in Corinthians that “Love is patient, kind, &etc.” How can we put this into practice in our daily lives? This I think is more a matter of Being than Doing. Taking a grace-full – as in full of grace – approach to our daily activities and interactions.

 As C. S. Lewis once put it: Christianity is not what you say, it isn’t what you write, and it is not even what you believe. Christianity is what you do, because of what you believe. Life, for Lewis was meant to be in itself an act of faith; and prayer, a way of thinking and being.

Advent is meant to be a time of reflection and preparation, what better time then to pause and prayerfully consider the time that has been and the time that lies ahead – and ways in which we, too, are, have been and can be witnesses and heralds for Our Lord, voices, crying out in the wilderness.

Amen.  

The Joy of the Lord is your Strength (Feast of St Ignatius)

"I do live by the church." - Twelfth Night

Recently, I began the process of 'discernment' within the Church of England, to ascertain whether I may be being called to a vocation of ministry within the church. The process has been both challenging and illuminating - with reading assignments, homework, and of course, lengthy discussions. One surprising outcome of this process so far has been the firm reminders I have had of the centrality of Ignatian spirituality within my own faith practice.

I was asked to write the following piece as a part of the discernment process, and as it has ended up being so solidly Ignatian, I thought it appropriate to post it today, the Feast Day of St Ignatius of Loyola.

------------

“The joy of the Lord is your strength.” – Nehemiah 8:10

_

I am trying, now,

To tell you what it is like

but words can only

hint at this moment of

heart’s dance, the wonder

of wings, the folly of flight…

- “Postcard from the Shore”, Luci Shaw (1985)

-

“Go into all the world and preach the gospel, and, if necessary, use words.”

–       Francis of Assisi

I have enjoyed reading John Pritchard’s The Life and Work of a Priest immensely. Pritchard is a gifted writer, who communicates an incredibly thought-provoking message with ease, wisdom and good humour. I have chosen a selection of passages on which to respond. (There are in fact far too many from which to choose!!!)

“The priest is someone who has been dazzled by the beauty of God and longs to reveal that beauty in the world.” p. 6

Pritchard expresses this fundamental point so beautifully, so much so that I was stunned by its utter simplicity. The point does prompt the question: ‘What is it about God that I intend/hope/strive to reveal to others?’ This, I believe, is and should be the central question of ones vocation. I have taken this question to heart, and it is one that I have begun to contemplate and wish to explore more deeply.

To begin, it has led me to (re)consider how God (continually) reveals Himself to me, and what of God’s nature is being and has been revealed to me through and by others; and through and by whom?

As John Pritchard writes,

These special people, whether ordained or not, have a distinctive quality that we find hard to pin down. They tend to be kind, though not in a sentimental way; they tend to be selfless, though not with martyr-like complications; they tend to be strong characters, but they use their strength creatively for others. (1)

Pritchard himself poses another fundamental question indirectly by stating that in some measure, we each have a “modest hall of fame”, or as I would put it, a pantheon of heroes who have and continue to inspire and motivate our faith and spiritual development.

Following Pritchard’s imagery of a hall of fame of “affectionate portraits”, I allowed my mind to drift and shape a “Gallery of Faith” in an imaginary spiritual museum. Without a doubt, each of us could easily rattle off a laundry list of the saints and sages whose words and ways have stood as markers or guideposts in our spiritual journeys, e.g., Francis of Assisi, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Rosa Parks &etc. However, Pritchard challenges us to dig a bit deeper and look beyond that great, celestial cloud of witnesses, to try and identify individuals we have known personally and encountered in our daily lives that genuinely helped us to raise our spiritual game, and encouraged us be better believers.

I was surprised by how difficult creating such a list as this is, actually. After some time, one portrait surfaced quite clearly: Father Joe LaBran, SJ.

Father LaBran is the sort of person that causes you to smile, immediately, as soon as you think of them. Full of almost elven, Irish good humour, Father LaBran was already a firm fixture and longstanding legend by the time I arrived at Holy Cross College - a selective, liberal arts university in Worcester, Massachusetts, run by the Jesuits.  For me, and all who knew and loved him, the essence of Fr LaBran was “joy”. His familiar catchphrase was “The joy of the Lord!” and indeed, Fr LaBran embodied and lived that Joy, and it was his mission to share that joy with others.

One of the many things I admired most about Fr LaBran, was his zeal and common touch. He was always out and about on campus, with his grey Stetson firmly nestled on his white-haired head, and his ornately carved walking stick -- that legend had it was hand-carved for him by a great, African chieftain following his conversion by Fr LaBran. Students delighted to see him cheering on the sidelines at sporting events, or sharing a friendly pint in the pub; when he celebrated Mass, the services were always packed.

Fr LaBran’s passion for the way of Christ was tangible, and although you never felt pressured by Fr LaBran, you did always feel compelled, challenged and inspired to strive to be “where he was” spiritually.

Unlike other instances in my life where I have observed others and thought to myself, “Golly, that looks like I nice place to be” – this was how I routinely felt on occasions when I have been part of Evangelical or Charismatic congregations. Wherever it was that they all seemed to be, I wasn’t there. It seemed somewhere distant and inaccessible. Not so with Fr LaBran. The faith world he inhabited was warm and welcoming, just as you are.

Although vibrant and passionate, Fr LaBran exuded a Quiet strength - in true Jesuit fashion, and I am thankful to him for introducing me to a faith world built on that quiet strength.

One instance of this was during Lent in my second year, when Fr LaBran challenged me to give up an hour each day to attend Daily Mass, instead of giving up chocolate, beer or sweets. My heart sunk at the suggestion. How could I with my crazy schedule, homework, rehearsals, hall meetings, and any attempts at a social life squeeze in another daily obligation?! “The joy of the Lord will be your strength!” Fr LaBran beamed, his bright smile and blue eyes twinkling, as he walked away. I rose to the challenge, and it was, of course, an amazing experience. It became a real refuge and a source of solace and strength for me - just what I needed at that time in my life. The next challenge Fr LaBran set for me was even more profound and life changing.

My last year of university was coming to an end. During the week between the last day of classes and Graduation, I was presented with two options by which to commemorate my four years at Holy Cross: a notorious, collegiate debauchery fest called, “HC-by-the-Sea”, a week-long, unsupervised, undergraduate beach party on Cape Cod; or “The Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius”, a week-long retreat of silence and solitude on the shores of Naragansett, Rhode Island led by Fr LaBran. Watching my friends packing their sun cream, bikinis and beach towels, I prayed that I’d made the right choice. I now have no doubt that I did.

“Pray always, and sometimes, use words,” Fr LaBran adviced us, amending slightly the famous words of St Francis of Assisi. One of the greatest memories I have of this experience is that of sitting high atop a rock, on the edges of the Atlantic Ocean, the vastness of the open sea before me, communing with God in silence, in the moonlight. “In Silence, you will hear the voice of God.”

Fr LaBran also encouraged us to perform an act of contrition during the week, to symbolise our humility and utter dependence upon God. I recall vivdly creeping into the chapel early one morning to perform my contrition, the sunlight streaming through the windows as I lay myself down across the cold flagstones. “The Joy of the Lord is your strength.”

For a gaggle of young people a week of complete silence was a real challenge, and amazingly, none of us broke our silence. Not even at meal time! And each day, we all seemed to be grow in our silence. There were 15 of us, all of us, on the brink of new life and adulthood, taking that next step into the rest of our lives, with Fr LaBran challenging us to always go with Christ, wherever our paths may lead us, to listen for His voice, and to walk humbly before Him. The memory of this blessed time still brings tears to my eyes. And for this reason, Fr Joseph LaBran, SJ holds pride of place in my Spiritual Hall of Fame.

The following is an excerpt from the homily given by Rev. William J. O’Halloran, S.J., vice president emeritus of Holy Cross, at Fr. LaBran’s funeral Mass in April 2005:

[It is for leading] the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius for which he is best remembered. It is no exaggeration to say that, for many years, at least a third of the graduating seniors had made the Exercises with him. Letters by the hundreds have told the story of lives repaired and changed; of discovering Jesus, the sacraments, prayer and meaning.

 Joseph LaBran, SJ

Backward Britain (I'm a little angry)

A glooming peace this morning with it brings;

The sun for sorrow will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. 

- Romeo and Juliet

What a bleak morning. Cold, dark, wet. Most appropriate for my mood. I should probably wait until I am in a calmer frame of mind before I attempt to craft some sort of response to the appalling result of the Church of England's General Synod vote on women bishops. 

But, really, what is there to say that hasn't already been said, and said betimes? I've offered my views on the matter in a number of occasions, most notably here: "Girl Power". And although my tone is largely flippant, there is a great deal of seriousness there.

The most shocking points are that the motion was defeated by a narrow margin, a mere 6 votes, and the dissenting constituency was the Laity. Not Bishops (both the current and in-coming Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams and Justin Welby voted in favour of women bishops), not Clergy, but the Laity. Those representing common, every day folk.

As sit here, a Churchwarden and key-holder of my local parish church, I cannot understand how anyone could possibly need to grapple with this issue! Our tiny village congregation is overwhelmingly female, and I am sure we are the rule and not the exception. Of our two Churchwardens, both of us are women; of our Readers, one is male, one female; of Clergy, one male, one female. An absence of women in roles of leadership and authority would bring our little parish to a halt. And, I have no doubt, in this day and age, that we are not unique. In our Benefice of 6 small parishes, half of the Churchwardens are women.

Of course, I am not equating being a Churchwarden with being a Bishop, but my points are that leadership, whether on a day-to-day parish level or diocesan level, is leadership; and that the face, heart and soul of the CofE -- on a day to day level -- is largely female.  

At a time when the Church is asking itself how it can reach out, be relevant and meet the needs of an ever-changing contemporary world, we take a step that appears positively Medieval! "Transform communities, make new disciplines," and etc. How can we do this when the message is quite clear: the contributions of women in the Church are valued - up to a point.

Today's news hurts, and it hurts us all. The Traditionalists and the Evangelicals - a rather odd marriage if ever there was one! - may have won, but at what cost?  

There is one Traditionalist group who call themselves Together 4ward. (Yeah, right.) How can we move forward together on this? As someone who has seriously contemplated -- and continues to contemplate quite seriously -- the possibility of pursuing a vocation within the Church of England, what am I meant to make of this result? Should it give me pause? 

Of course, one does not or should not pursue a vocation with an eye to achieving top tier status, one pursues a vocation to serve. It is a calling to humble action, not an aspirational career move. That being said, how can the Church counsel its women novitiates, mentor or encourage them with a stained glass ceiling above their heads?

And perhaps, this is what the Traditionalists and the Evangelicals wish for most. That women novitiates will be put off, give up, give over and move on. "Why bother", I saw one woman had written on a news comments page, "I'll just become a Methodist." Alas, no! Do not retreat! This needs to be a call to arms! "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!"   

This is a time to demonstrate that women within the Church of England are here to stay, a force with which to reckoned, and we'll not give up the fight! 

Girl Power

I was browsing on eBay UK late yesterday morning. What for, you may ask, Dear Reader? Some snazzy, Chanel sunglasses? A pair of mint condition Jimmy Choos? No, I was looking for a Buildwas alb.

Although it sounds like it might be either this season’s latest Scandinavian fashion accessory, or German low country mountain range, an alb is a liturgical vestment. From the Latin word for “white”, it is the long garment worn by clergy, ministers and lay servers in the church.

I’m in the market for one as the liturgical team of lay person servers at our little parish has grown, and we need an extra. Being a liturgiophile (person who loves liturgy), I volunteered to purchase a new one for myself, allowing the new team member to use the old one.

Could be tricky, as I am a petite, would I find one that would fit? A pleasant surprise -- to find major clerical outfitters, like Hayes and Finch of London, all have sections on their websites for “Ladies Garments”.

What an irony also, just as I finish purchasing a rather fetching pale cream alb from Hayes and Finch, to spot reports of the latest “women bishops” controversy in the Sunday paper. The headline: “Williams ‘humiliated’ as bishops deal is rejected.” (Sunday Times, 11 July 2010)

I admire the Archbishop of Canterbury immensely. I think he is a great man in a very difficult job. Moving the Church – any church – into the 21^st C is undoubtedly an enormous task, with considerable challenges.

And, unlike the Catholic Church that seems to approach change by simply denying its existence, the Church of England wrestles quite openly with change and the all challenges it brings.

As I understand it, the deal that Rowan wished to offer was one that would effectively allow opponents of the ordination of female bishops a sort of “opt out” cause, whereby they could bypass the authority of a woman bishop.

The result would essentially create a “church within a church,” with the real status of women bishops being essentially compromised.

Williams is feeling pressure from Anglo-Catholic opponents within the Church who are being openly – and rather naughtily—wooed by Pope Benedicte XVI and his strict, intolerant, Catholic wiles!

A word to the wise for the Archbishop; and perhaps this is just a woman’s take on things, but, as every girl knows, if you’re in a relationship with someone who is unwilling to compromise, who routinely threatens to leave you when things don’t go their way -- and adds salt to the wound by taunting you with prospects of forming a new attachment with a more amenable Italian -- this is not a relationship worth having!

If Rowan Williams were one of my girl chums (let’s call her Rowena), I’d invite her out for a coffee, sit her down over a steaming grande soy latte and dish out some tough love! “Listen, Ro, you have got to let this guy go! He is so not worth it, and you deserve better.”

Flippancies aside, I do believe there are some underlying truths here for this very serious situation. If the Anglo-Catholics want to move on to Rome, let them. As any person who has been through a bad marriage can tell you, sometimes, when something’s broken in a relationship, you can’t fix it.

Appeasing extreme views – in either direction – for the seek of appeasement, to take keep someone from leaving, never works. Church relationships, like any other, must be based on love, and love is all about working together and compromise.

The traditionalists’ stance is philosophical, and their philosophy is not going to change. So, let them go. Let them shake the dust from their feet, and move on.

I understand Rowan’s view that “we should all try and stay together”; and trust me (no disrespect intended) but the last thing I would want to support is a swelling of the Catholic ranks, but, I believe that if one is not happy where one is, than it is best to move on.

I think my local church provides a wonderful microcosm of this idea of compromise. Ironically, I would consider myself a firm traditionalist, though they have certainly lost me on this one. To be more accurate, I am a liturgical traditionalist. My father used to refer to me as a “devout bower and scraper”. It is a badge I wear proudly.

I recently had a rather crackling exchange with a visiting priest, when we landed quite accidently on the subject of liturgy and he said, “God does not need all the bells and whistles.” I paused, and responded quite firmly: “God doesn’t need them, but God certainly deserves them.”

So, yes, it is safe to say my traditionalist streak is firmly ensconced. As such (and I have mentioned this before) I loathe, loathe, loathe, loathe contemporary Christian music. Guitars, bongos, tambourines, drums, and heavens forfend, the insipid words of the trite, little song printed out on video screens for us all to read and follow along!! It gives me hives.

Did I mention I loathe this?

In my sweet, little, village parish, there a small, very English gesture toward this sort of music within our main Sunday service. There is one song in the service that is of the “happy-clappy” variety. (Thankfully, no tambourines or videos screens as of yet…)

Instinctively, at this point in the service, I sigh. I roll my eyes. I try to recall the names of the moons orbiting the planet Uranus, anything but participate in the proceedings.

Tiring of my anti-happy-clappy antics, and my routine whinging about “the happy-clappy moment” before, during and after each service, the ever-wise DEB, had a word with me. “Well, love,” he said. “Here’s what you can do, don’t go to that service, if you don’t like that music.”

How sensible!

It really made me think. There are a few members of our congregation that have actually made that decision, and only attend the completely music-less service at 8:00 AM. I very often serve at that service, and really quite enjoy it. But, I haven’t made the decision to vote with my feet altogether.

Also, I was recently elected to the Parish Council, and one Sunday, just as I was about to roll my eyes in disgust as the choir geared up for their “Aren’t We Modern?” number, I thought myself, “You’re a newly elected member of the Parish Council. You love this church. It’s just one song. Stop acting like an 8 year old!”

That told me.

And frankly, I think a general dose of this kind of medicine would not go amiss.

So – to the meat of the matter. Women leading the church. The traditionalist view on this is based on what they see as the Biblical precedent that: “Jesus did not have any women disciples.”

My response to this is, of course, both flippant and serious. (The flippant always comes first.)

Last week, I gave a Shakespeare lecture in Stratford-upon-Avon to a lovely group of university students from Chicago. One of them asked: “What was Shakespeare’s intention in writing King Lear?” After giving the bog-standard, scholarly, academic answer I am supposed to, I added, “…But you know, we don’t really know. How can we know? None of us were there.”

They all laughed, but they also got the point.

I think the same is true in this instance: none of us were there. And if we could be truly honest with ourselves, we’d admit that we can’t possibly know who all of Jesus’ friends, followers, disciples and eventual church leaders were.

But, Biblical interpretation aside, I think it is far more pragmatic and productive to look at the present. In other words, who are “Jesus’ friends” now?

I have always found it ironic (and infuriating) that Catholic leaders can never get their heads around women serving or leading the Church, when the simple facts are that there would be no Church, or indeed a very small one, without the involvement and dedication of women.

I don’t just mean in a procreative sense, I mean quite literally, across the board (and across the globe) women are the ones keeping the church wheels turning, Catholic, C of E, or otherwise.

Yesterday, I gazed around my village church. In terms of leadership and activity, there is a solid and indisputable female presence. We have two Church Wardens, a huge leadership role, and both of them are women.

In the bell-tower, 50% of the ringers are women. In the choir, 10 of the 14 choristers are women. We have two Readers, one man and one woman. Serving on the altar, our team of four (4) Chalice Bearers and Eucharistic Ministers is 100% female.

What would happen if we all walked out?

And of course, no surprise that the congregation is also largely female. (Typically, and dare I say traditionally, it is the female side of the familial equation who pushes everyone to church, gets everyone ready and there Sunday after Sunday!)

As I sat in my pew, I imagined what my church would look like, what it would be like without its significant female presence. A very different and empty place indeed.

Last Christmas, I had the pleasure – and for me it is a true pleasure – of serving on the high altar at Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. Our Reverend Cathy was the Celebrant, Reader Anne was 1^st assistant, and I was 2^nd. Three women gathered round the altar.

Moments like this are not lost on me. Of course, I am always fully focused on my job and duties, but I am also able to stand apart, and observe.

I cannot say fully what moments like this mean to me, both as a Christian and as a woman. It is so powerful and inspiring to watch Mother Cathy, and to hear the words of the Eurcharist being intoned in a feminine voice, a voice that could be my own. My eyes welled with tears as I watched Mother Cathy lifting and breaking the Body of Christ.

It is not lost on me that many lived and died so that a moment such as this could happen; I am also very aware that many lived and died to keep this moment from ever happening. But this moment did happen. And it is a privilege none of us takes lightly.

The moment of the woman bishop in the Church of England will also happen. Stand up for her, Rowan! You will not be standing alone.

Meeting me where I am

Last week, the Church of England announced that it would be offering a new religious service for those interested in being married by the Church. It is a sort of “two-for-one offer,” a combined wedding and baptism.

Basically, it is a standard wedding ceremony, with a baptism attached. Obviously, this service was created especially for couples that have had children before their marriage, and provides a blessing of those children, and incorporates them into this newly sanctified union.

Interesting.

I’m not quite sure what I make of this. My inner (and very conservative) Episcopal matron is utterly scandalized by the very thought of this new-fangled “buy one, get one free” approach to liturgy. However, the more moderate realist side of me can see the benefits and advantages.

One clear benefit that would appease both sides of my thinking is that fact that this new ‘add-on baptism’ might just alleviate a few of those “one off” baptisms that routinely happen during regular church services.

(Oh-oh. Here comes the cranky Episcopal matron…)

As a regular church-goer, I find it truly annoying, nay, irksome even, that I am often forced to sit through a lengthy baptism service, that has been inserted into my normal Sunday service, for the sake an anonymous child that I will never know, and his or her equally anonymous parents (and godparents) all of whom I have never seen before, nor will I ever see again!

And of course, in the midst of this service, we, the congregation are called upon to promise our care and support of this child and his/her family through their lives. Well, I for one take such promises seriously. And I cannot fulfill such a promise to individuals who disappear before the holy water has even dried...  

Baptisms, christenings, whatever one may call them, are serious business. Or should be. They should be more than just a family photo opportunity, or a chance to get your glad rags on and have a meal down the pub.

Likewise, the Church is more than just a “religious venue,” there just when you need it for a wedding or a christening.  Oh, dear, oh, dear. From the sound of this, I think I would probably make one hellishly dreadful vicar!

Mercy, grace and compassion. That is what Rowan, the Archbishop of Canterbury, is suggesting. He believes that it is the Church’s mission to “meet people where they are.” If a couple, after being together and making a family together for donkey’s years, have finally decided to “make it official,” the church should meet them where they are, and provide a sacrament that also meets their circumstances. Ultimately, this can be nothing but a good thing.

I had a very interesting conversation about all of this with the Vicar’s wife recently, when she came for tea last Friday.

Mrs. Vicar and I sat in the garden, had tea and some chocolate brownies I’d made especially. I really like Mrs. Vicar. She’s one cool lady. Loving, warm and gentle, but solid, sensible and down-to-earth. She is every bit what you’d expect an English vicar’s wife to be. 

Over tea and brownies, we discussed the new development’s pros and cons. My question is how the Church can be so open on one hand, to couples with kids, and not so in other circumstances, i.e., second marriages.

I have written previously about how the Church of England has, as I see it, a rather ad hoc,  ‘each parish/vicar as it/they will’ policy toward marrying couples wherein one or more of the partners has been married before.

In other words, some vicars will perform weddings for second-timers, some won’t. It’s just luck of the draw. Which can be a double-whammy, as there are additional rules that state that you can only have your wedding celebrated in the parish in which you live, have lived, or have had some previous familial association.  

So from the get go, you are starting out with a rather limited playing field. For example, there is a lovely, lovely little 19^th C. church in Wasperton, the village next to Barford. I had thought briefly of the D.E.B. and I having our wedding there, but I found out very quickly that my choices were St. Peter’s, here in Barford, or St. Peter’s, here in Barford.

So, we had the wedding at St. Peter’s, here in Barford. And I’m very glad we did. It was a perfect day and it all happened in exactly the right and perfect place. We were very lucky, in more than just the weather. Our Vicar is a gem. A real diamond. All I can say is, thank goodness he’s not a cranky, old Episcopalian battle-axe like me!

My tea-time conversation with Mrs. Vicar took an interesting turn. Before I knew it, I had confessed to some floundering faith I have been experiencing recently:

“Things have been going so well,” I found myself saying. “I’m happier than I have ever been in my life. I’m a bit worried that I may be too happy, and so I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t really trust God completely.”

(At this point, my internal ‘Southern Episcopal matron’ rose from her seat, swooned and fainted from shock…)

Mrs. Vicar beamed her cheeky, cheery smile at me. “It does feel that way sometimes, doesn’t it?” she said, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “But you must know, you can always trust God. It doesn’t mean that we can’t question or even get angry sometimes. But always trust.”

She then shared with me a recent story of a very stormy time in her life when both she and the Vicar were seriously, seriously ill. “Even in those darkest hours, I knew God was there.” She said.

Mrs. Vicar’s words gave me such an incredible sense of peace and grace. Maybe this was just another example of the importance of faith meeting people where they are.

 

State Secrets

“I hear you're attending Marriage Preparation classes in Wellesbourne.” remarked Phil, balancing himself atop the large, yellow Body Ball. “Yes!” I wheezed breathlessly from the cross trainer. “How’s that going?” asked Graham, as he headed toward the treadmill. “Back in my day, they’d never have had ‘classes,’ you just called in on the vicar, or were forced to call in on the vicar, rather.” Phil smiled broadly with a chuckle.

Times have certainly changed.  And, as I said to my wonderful gym chums, I’m very thankful for the preparation course. This is something the Church of England gets absolutely right. I think it is much needed in this day and age. As my friend, Mikala, reminded me on the phone today, I am secretly quite a staunch traditionalist at heart, though my life has often been far from it.

At our marriage seminar we walked through “The Marriage Service” line-by-line, word-by-word. But this is much more than a rudimentary “Do-you-understand-what-you-are-saying?” exercise. We dissected the text chunk-by-chunk and explored issues that are directly and tangentially related to the points being made.

As a part of this, there were a series of written and conversation-starting exercises that we were to complete individually, and then share with our partners. The exercises tackle some really important and pertinent issues.

The first exercise is called “Appreciating Your Partner and Their Talents.” Rationale: “Do you appreciate your partner? Do you value yourself? Marriages are built on a combination of each partner’s talents. Someone once said that one key to a good marriage is where ‘My partner enables me to love myself more.’”

We are then meant to fill in the following blanks:

1.) Something I really appreciate about my partner is (blank). 2.) Something my partner does really well is (blank). 3.) Something I like about my partner’s appearance is (blank). 4.) One special memory about our life together so far is (blank).  We then had to share our answers with our partner, in the form of a direct sentence: “Something I really appreciate about you is (blank).”

The next exercise was called: “Where Does it Come From?” This exercise looks back on that pivotal relationship of our parents, and their marriage. The dynamics of our parents’ marriages have such a significant influence and impact on how we interact with the opposite sex, and how we see the construction of marriage in both positive and negative ways.  One often hears people making statements such as I want to, “marry someone like my Dad” or “never ever be a wife like my mom.”

For this exercise we had to sit and consider who did what in our families, i.e., paid the bills, did the dishes, disciplined the children, mowed the lawn, taught the children how to pray, sent out Christmas cards, and etc. The course leaders stressed the point that these childhood experiences can create strong, deeply-held convictions, assumptions and expectations of which we may not even be aware.

The most interesting part of the exercise for me was that in addition to outlining our own experience of “who did what,” we had to guess what our partner’s experiences had been. Coming together later with our answers revealed much about how my Darling English Boy and I became the people we are.

In his family’s household, the washing up/doing the dishes was a shared responsibility, most notably done by the children. The D.E.B.’s mum was responsible for the family purse, and paying the bills, while she and the D.E.B’s dad shared the tasks of disciplining the children, deciding where to go on holidays, and deciding where the children went to school, & etc. They also made a joint effort in sending out Christmas cards and entertaining guests.

I was astonished. 

By comparison, my family was a cliché, 1950s, American sitcom. 

I never once saw my father (god rest him) wash a single dish, and I’m sure he had no idea where my mother even kept the broom, let alone the Christmas cards. 

I’m not saying my parents had a bad marriage, clearly, it worked for them; their marriage was just very different to the one that the D.E.B.’s parents had.

I will say that my parents' marriage did in some ways, put me off the idea. I can also say now that I did resent the way my father wasn’t involved in household chores and such. There was clearly a “male/female” divide in terms of who did what, and who had the ultimate and final say.

After delving into the past, we had to look at the present. The next exercise was: “What Sort of Person Are You?” Again, working individually, we had to decide and note down, between ourselves and our partners, who was: a.) The more clothes conscious. b.) The one more likely to take risks.  c.) The more thrifty. d.) Gets angry the soonest. e.) More ready to show affection. f.) More inclined to sulk. and, g.) the more reserved. 

When we came to share our answers, The D.E.B. and I had each awarded the other with the “most affectionate” mantle.

There was a great deal of substance in this experience for us. Particularly in the area of who gets angry soonest (me) and who is more inclined to sulk (The D.E.B.). This exercise led us to talk about conflict, and how to handle differences.

As I said to my gym chums, I think the one thing we as people are not taught to do well is to disagree. Arguing is viewed as such a negative thing, yet it is something that inevitably happens in every relationship.  I really appreciate our Preparation class acknowledging that, and pushing us to actually think about “How do you argue?”

Other points we addressed were: “The ways we express love to one another: Touch, Words, Service and Gifts” --  raising such questions as “How do you feel you are being cherished in this relationship?” And, “Which ways of being cherished are most important to you?"

“Marriage is seriously joyful, seriously hopeful and seriously demanding.”

One of the course leaders—a priest who was truly amazing!—got up spoke frankly about how his first marriage didn’t work and had ended, and how God had blessed him with a second. 

He was honest, open and vulnerable with us, and that meant a lot. He led us through a segment called “Commitment Through All The Changes Ahead”.

We were asked to list some of things that we were individually looking forward to, which we hope might happen during our marriage, either in the near or distance future; also to list the things we might find more challenging, painful or fearful; and then finally, asked to consider and list “roots you can put down now which will help you to cope with situations as they occur in the future.”

The remaining two segments were the most profound: “What Do You Want From Your Partner?” (Rationale: Sometimes it is hard to tell your partner that you want something from them; but how will they know if you don’t tell them. Equally important is being willing to listen to your partner’s needs – sometimes we have to be aware of unspoken signs.”) and, “It Worries Me…” All about revealing your fears and concerns about marriage (money, boredom, loss of freedom, and etc.)

Great stuff. 

And things that most people rather not thinking about. Much easier to get caught up in flowers and tiaras…The leaders intended all of this to be a springboard into our on-going conversations with each other as we journey into marriage.

“So,” I said, huffing and puffing my last 5 minutes on the cross-trainer, “what’s the secret to a good marriage?’

“Oh!” Phil and Graham say in unison, more than ready to give some fatherly advice. “Keep the woman under control,” cheeky Graham said with a smile and wink in the mirror. “Do as I’m told,” Phil says plainly, finishing his squats.

“Of course, you know,” said Graham, slowing down his treadmill, and facing me, “Phil’s answer is based on reality, while mine is completely and utterly from the realm of fantasy.”