A Country Curate

As promised, here's the link to my new blog: A Country Curate

All future postings will be there. Hope you enjoyed reading about being a Church of England ordinand, and continue to follow my progress as the training gets practical.

Steve.

A new phase

It's done. On Sunday July 4th I was ordained in Bristol Cathedral by Bishop Mike. You may now call me Reverend. Or 'oi, you'. Whichever you prefer. Notice from the picture that the delivery of 'curate grey' arrived just in time.

Two official documents now hang on my study wall. One confirms my ordination, bizarrely listing my Bachelor of Engineering degree (presumably as I haven't been awarded my Diploma of Theology yet) and stating that he has been assured of my 'sufficient learning and godly conversation'. The other is my licence to serve in the Benefice of Greater Corsham and Lacock, and 'to perform all ecclesiastical duties belonging to that office'.



Prior to the ordination the seven new curates had been interviewed for the diocese' website, rehearsed the service, and spent three days on retreat - of which most was silent - a struggle for at least half of us. But importantly we started to bond as a 'year group'. We'll be spending quite a lot of time together over the next three years or so as we continue our training in joint sessions at least once a month.



The morning of the service was odd in many ways. Nobody wanted much breakfast - maybe we didn't want to spoil our new clerical shirts. As we gathered in the cathedral's chapter house alongside our training vicars we gradually got quieter as the hour approached. Suddenly we were led outside the cathedral to stand outside the West Door. Above us the bells rang out, and through the open doors came the sound of the organ thundering and the choir parading in ahead of us. With service sheet in hand I tried to sing the opening hymn, but could hardly get two consecutive words out. Music often tugs at the emotions - ever noticed that you can't really sing at a funeral? - but I hadn't expected this, at a happy occasion.

Happy, yet serious. Ordination is a huge commitment. Even though I had been reading the service order through several times a day on the retreat (mostly to memorise where I was meant to be and when) the vows don't really hit you until you say them for real. Eventually the moment of ordination arrived, and we walked up in turn from our front row seats to where the Bishop sat. It was only a few metres, but it seemed like the Walk of Shame on the Weakest Link - time went so slowly and every step seemed to take forever.

The Bishop lays his hands on your head as he ordains you, praying for the Holy Spirit to do his thing. And I'm sure He did. The Bishops hands surely weren't that hot and tingly normally?

Shortly afterwards we had a moment where the Bishop declared it all done, huge rounds of applause followed, and I let out a huge sigh of relief as we congratulated each other.

Holy Communion followed, in which the newly ordained assisted in the distribution - we were meant to alternate 'customers' to ensure a good flow of bodies, but customers can be obstinate when they know you and want to receive it specifically from you. But I'm sure it evened out over time!

At the end, a less formal procession outside, photos with Bishops Mike and Lee, and a quick drive home for a party with family and friends.

It's now time for a change. This blog will retire, partly because I'm not at Ridley any more, but also because it's time for a change of focus. Visit one more time to find details of my new blog which will look at some of the challenges of being a curate in the wilds of Wiltshire.

Time to relax?

It's been a while since I last wrote, but in the intervening two and a half weeks we have:

- moved house from Cambridge to Neston, Wiltshire
- unpacked in record time
- started new schools
- discovered far too many breakages
- spent endless hours on the phone to various utility companies doing their job for them
- laughed at an insurance company who wanted to send their East Anglia assessor to Wiltshire!
- spent days in the garden trying to get it into some sort of thorn-free, reasonably safe state for an ordination party
- had a cup of tea and lunch with the vicar
- had a couple of days off

We're shattered, but tomorrow things change for ever. I go off on retreat / sleepover / murder-mystery party in Bristol, to prepare for ordination. I won't see my family again until Sunday morning at Bristol Cathedral. I'll return home wearing a dog collar, styling myself 'Reverend', suddenly a public figure. They, on the other hand, have to live a normal life without me, go to a parents evening, get the house and garden ready for 70+ visitors on Sunday, and then get used to a slightly different kind of existence (i.e. me going to work for the first time in over two years, but work which is just across the hallway, and at all kinds of strange times)

I don't know in what vein this blog will continue. It will continue, but it might have to take a different flavour.

I'll see you on the other side...

All done

After Thursday night's Leaver's service and dinner I've cleared my study, handed in my keys, said my goodbyes and left Ridley. In September a new batch of students will arrive, just like I did two years ago.

Key memories of the last two years are:

- croquet in the summer sunshine,

- leading Morning Prayer the day Mark Autherson died,

- hearing the Gospel Choir sing 'God Is' at his funeral

- climbing 54 steps to my study in the first year, and none in the second year

- Romsey Mill

- our two Besom projects

- playing games of "What's in the lecturer's head?" in Old Testament lectures (never did find out!)

- trying to get to grips with Greek along with The Sisterhood (now disbanded)

- being much sillier than is right for somebody my age (but getting away with it)

- preaching from the same pulpit occupied thirty years earlier by Rowan Williams

And memories of Cambridge itself:

- leisurely walks through the Cambridge colleges

- jaywalking Japanese tourists in pursuit of pictures of lampposts

- early morning runs to Grantchester (before dodgy ankles made that truly a memory rather than a sensible thing to do)

On Monday the packers arrive and on Tuesday we leave Cambridge. So the weekend is busy making sure we've hidden things that need to stay with the rented house, and stuffed the car full of stuff that we'll need overnight.

Searching Questions

After a very early start (4.30am alarm) to deliver child #1 to school for her trip to Holland and Belgium I had my own trip to Swindon today - I was allowed out of college for a pre-ordination meeting with Bishop Lee, at which I met the other 6 ordinands that he'll be ordaining at the same time as me.



Of the seven of us:

• 5 are men, 2 women,
  3 trained full time (like me) and 4 trained 'part time' through regional courses whilst working at the same time (hats off to them!)
  3 will be stipendiary (paid a stipend so we don't have to work) / 4 will be 'self supporting' and giving differing amounts of time depending on their circumstances.

After a couple of hours of getting to know each other and chatting about our training experience and backgrounds we each filed dutifully from the lounge into the Bishop's office to answer a few questions. He assured us that these are standard questions that have to be asked of each ordinand, and there was no agenda behind them!

1. Is there any scandal in your life that would cause a problem for the Church in the future? Err, don't think so.

2. Will you adhere to the church's teaching on sexuality? (That's a bit easier, and I'm not planning to wreck the Anglican church on this one) Yes!

3. Is there anything else I need to know about? (Blimey, what does he know?) No!!

And after a short chat and a prayer it was time to leg it to the station to get back home in time to babysit Isaac.

Gospel Choir sings at the asylum centre

You might have heard of the Oakington Immigration Reception Centre on the news. A few weeks ago there was a major incident there. This week there was a minor incident when the Ridley Hall Gospel Choir (of which I am a member) visited to give a short concert. The Gospel Choir meets every Friday lunchtime for an hour, and we've given three or four concerts, usually in churches, as well as a couple of shorter performances in shopping centres. Our last major concert was on Saturday night in the village of Comberton, but before term finishes there are three smaller events, of which Oakington was the first.

For such a notorious place it's really hard to find. It didn't help that we hadn't been given a precise address to head for, nor that the roadsigns to it have recently been removed. So a 15 minute journey took us an hour. And I had to take my passport - as Oakington houses asylum seekers I guess it's useful to be able to prove that you are a UK resident to be able to get out to go home!

It's quite a depressing place. It's an old military airfield, so it has the look and feel of such places, but drained of any personality. It's more secure than some prisons, surrounded by high barbed wire topped fences and heavy gates, but the area where people actually 'live' is a very small enclosure. I now have a sense of how animals feel in the zoo - they can see all that space outside but they can't get out. A grassy area has been converted into a sports field but that seems to be about all that's going on. It feels like this might have been a lively place once, but it just seems oppressive now.

We are shown into the canteen, which is to be our performance space. Rows of fixed plastic tables and chairs reinforce that this is not a particularly comfortable place to live. We start off with a small audience, but soon the sound of our singing filters out and more come in. We face rows and rows of men (women are kept at a different centre) of many colours and faiths. We are here at the invitation of the chaplain, but are instructed that we shouldn't preach, so our normal song introductions which explain the meaning and background to each song are out, and we have to let the songs speak for themselves. Much of our repertoire is based around old slave songs, and it's bizarre to be singing songs about being captive, wanting to be free, finding freedom in Christ, in such a place. We sing 'Rescue Me' and 'Take the shackles off my feet so I can dance' and these send shivers down my spine. After an hour the depressed faces of our audience have been transformed to ones of smiling and laughter - even if the God we're singing of is not their god.

Afterwards we meet and chat with the residents. I talk with 'Jim' who is from Albania, and has just received his place ticket home. He's in his mid twenties and since leaving Albania he's worked across Europe, spending the last five years in England. I can't get him to explain how he ended up in Oakington, so I suspect he's been working illegally, and the authorities finally caught up with him. But with his flight in sight he's happy that he only has to spend another three nights here. By now he'll be home, but others can stay there for months if they don't accept the Queen's kind offer of a free flight. Two hours there was enough for me.

End Times

Back at the ranch, college life draws rapidly to a close. With all the formal teaching over, and lecturers with their heads in marking our assignments it's time to amuse the students with some time fillers. Oh, and the clerical shirts have arrived!

Thursday 27th May: The Church Commissioners visit to talk to us about the essential matter of stipends and clergy pensions. Not the world's most thrilling topic, and much of it was duplicated with the superior talk we had from a private tax advisor earlier in the term. But I learnt (or was reminded of) several important points:

• I'm not going to be an employee, I'll be an office holder.


• I will not have an employer, nor a contract. But for tax purposes, I work for the Church Commissioners.


• I am not paid a salary, but a stipend which frees me up from the need to work in order to carry out my ministry (this seems to be a bit of a technicality - I give my working time to the church, they pay me a fixed amount of money at the end of every month - sounds like any other job I've had)


• I cannot claim for a duck-house on expenses.

Friday 28th May: Ecclesiastical Insurance presentation. After an hour of sales pitch about investments, ISAs and (more) pensions I ask the obvious question about when they are going to talk about house and car insurance. Which they're not...

Tuesday 1st June: 'Second Chair Leadership' - or 'how to be a leader in the church without being in charge'. An excellent insight for curates who are straining at the leash to be let loose on a church but don't want to fall out with everybody in the first week. In the afternoon we have a debriefing session with the Principal, in which we reflect on our time at Ridley and give constructive feedback.

Weds 2nd June - Fri 4th June: Funerals, Death and Dying. An aptly timed course on what we could be asked to do within our first few days in the parish. We look at the intricacies of the funeral service, visiting the family, aftercare, and a whole load of other stuff. We each deliver a short eulogy/sermon on a fictional character - at the end of this session we all realise that the scenarios given were for tricky situations, all involving mixtures of early / tragic / sudden deaths, just to provide us with that little extra challenge. As I write I'm waiting to go off to the Funeral Directors, dressed appropriately smartly - I'm wearing shoes (rather than trainers) to 'work' for the first time in two years!

Meanwhile, it's half term, and the rest of the family is in the new house in Wiltshire, picking up where I left off last week, finishing the painting, laying floors and hanging curtains.