Leaving and returning

It's one of those odd days at Ridley today. Yesterday was 'Leavers Day' - the official last day for those who are finished their time here. Most will be going off to be ordained, a handful have other plans, or are doing other roles for a year before being ordained next year. In the afternoon there was a children's party, a three-line-whip college communion and a Leavers Dinner in the evening.

There was a definite point when I can identify that I stopped being a First Year and became a 'Returner' - during the communion service all students went forward by staircase to pray for the leavers of that staircase. As my friends stood in front of me there was a real sense of sending them out, commissioning them for the next phase of their ministry, and a sudden realisation that I and everybody else who leaves next year were now in a position of seniority. In twelve months time I'll be the one going out...

As the marquee from the dinner is cleared out today there is a stream of leavers emptying their studies, carrying boxes and pushing trolleys, stuffing cars and vans full of that one roomful of possessions. Some of those who have lived out of college are already moving house today.

Ordinations take place on various dates. Many dioceses ordain at 'Petertide' - the last weekend of June / first one of July, others have to wait for 'Michaelmas' - the last weekend of September. I'm planning to go to one in Southwark on 28th June. For those being ordained earliest the next two weeks looks something like: move, unpack, have a bit of a rest, go on a 2-3 day pre-ordination retreat, get ordained, start work.

For them I reproduce here an article from this week's Church of England Newspaper, an excerpt from a regular column by Catherine Fox*:

Ordination dilemmas for new candidates
This week, some words of wisdom for those preparing for
ordination. ‘Foxes have holes, birds of the air have nests,
but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’ Bracing
words. The nitty-gritty of discipleship. If the Lord
genuinely called us to be homeless for the sake of the
Gospel, we’d do it, wouldn’t we? ‘Jehovah jireh, my
provider, his grace is sufficient for me, for me for me.’ But
what if the Son of Man did have somewhere to lay his head,
only it was a curate’s house with blown vinyl wallpaper,
a damp poky study that used to be the garage, pub lounge
carpets, with all the good schools nearby full?

Curiously enough, this can feel like an even harder calling.
Grace sufficient for blown vinyl? Ooh, that’s a different
theological category entirely. Brace yourselves, folks, that’s
what you’ll need. Your bathroom suite will be avocado or
Germolene pink. Your kitchen tiles will have wheat ears and
harvest mice on. In short, your curate’s house will be full of
things that are nearly bad enough for you to do something
about, but not quite, because it’s only for three years. Yes,
you can stand it for three years, but it will annoy you for three
years. You will, of course, have your resettlement grant.
Here’s my advice: use it all on carpets. (A chancellor I know
would say use it all on bookshelves, but he’s wrong about that.
Books can be stacked in a corner, but there’s nothing you do
about exploding cabbage carpets.) There will also be a pot of
money for redecoration. If you are lucky, your congregation
will be full of able-bodied volunteers who can wield a roller
and repaint the entire house without falling off a step-ladder and
breaking a hip. Otherwise the parish will have to pay someone
to redecorate, and the money will run out halfway up the stairs.
I know there are ordinands out there snorting ‘At least they’ve
GOT a curate’s house! I’m getting ordained in a matter of weeks
and the accommodation still isn’t sorted!’ Welcome to the C of E!
Let’s find someone to blame. The parish? The bishop? The housing
officer? The DDO? All of the above? The trouble is that the church
is staffed not by villains so much as good-hearted folk trying to
make an impossibly under-funded over-stretched system work.
It didn’t ought to be this way, but it is this way. And you will
survive. You will. Just don’t look to your training incumbent for
sympathy. The minute you raise any of these issues, I guarantee
that older clergy will immediately go into a Monty Python-esque
Four Yorkshire Vicars sketch. ‘Curate’s house? Luxury! We lived
in a wheelie bin in the graveyard!’

*(c) 2009, The Church of England Newspaper