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.

Painter Man II

I'm absolutely very tired! After six solid days of painting, during which my Mum, Dad and I started cleaning and/or painting before 9am and finished each day at about 10pm, with the occasional break for food, drink or to pop out to top up supplies, I've stopped and returned home. And now the tiredness is catching up with me - I nearly fell asleep in chapel this evening, but this wasn't a comment on the quality of the speaker!

But go here to see the result - a selection of before and after comparisons. Evidence of further crimes against tasteful colours was discovered in other rooms, lurking behind radiators. As you can see, the difference between the late 90's and now is bold and loud versus muted and cool!

Painter Man

Three weeks until I leave Ridley, and with all essays now handed in I am free for a few days. Those on other courses have exams (this time last year I was revising for Greek!) but I have nothing on the timetable for a whole week!

We've packed up my mum and dad's car with paint, dustsheets, food and tools and tomorrow I'm off to decorate a vicarage!

I've never bought so much paint in one go (the picture only shows half of it), but then I've never tried to paint a whole house at once. I'm particularly looking forward to neutralising the orange lounge and the purple bedroom.

My target for the next week is to get the house to a state where the rest of my family can visit in half-term week to worry about carpets and curtains.

So it's off to bed, then off to Wiltshire.

Revenge of the 5ith

I'm now the proud owner of a load of clerical garb - cassock, surplice, preaching scarf, vicar's hoodie and a Jedi / Scottish Widows cloak.

The cloak has an inside pocket, which fits a toy lightsaber. It arrived on Star Wars day (May the Fourth be with you!) and was tried on for size on Revenge of the 5ith day (that'll be May the 5th then). And it's amazing, but I must discipline myself not to quote Yoda at the graveside.

Sorry there's no pictures yet, will follow up with that once I've got everything - still need to order shirts and dog collars.

When Ali met Sally

I've been quiet here for a while - but the first two weeks of term have been hectic! I've been mostly trying to write an essay on the book of Judges, but other stuff kept getting in the way. Ridley has a habit of doing that - there are just some days when you have to accept that you aren't going to achieve anything progress-wise...I've had two of those already.

We had double rations of New Testament lectures this term, which needed a LOT of preparation, meaning little progress on writing assignments, but now that course is finished, and we're down to five hours of lectures for the next couple of weeks. Meaning that I can finally put my foot to the pedal and get some serious writing done.

Today I had a good day - the essay is now written and is in that 'simmering' state, where it's been printed, waiting for Mrs Didley to proof read it and for me to have a brainwave about a very important point that I've left out. But to be honest she's never corrected anything other than grammar, punctuation and half deleted sentences, and I've never had a major rethink at the last minute. So it's now 99.9% complete, and I have another 2.5 essays to write in the next 2 weeks. That will be fun, as for two of them I haven't started the reading for them yet. There might be a few late nights coming up, and I'm not counting election night, which will be far too exciting in TV to be able to read anything.

Having completed one essay there's a quick lull, and time to reward myself with a bit of blogging, time to try to remember what else happened since term began. I know there's something I want to blog about but it's fallen out of mind...but there's something I haven't forgotten - Incumbent's Day.

For the non-technically minded, my 'training incumbent' means my boss-to-be, Rev Sally Wheeler. She's the vicar of Lacock, I'll be her curate/apprentice/Padawan learner. Last Tuesday about half of our incumbents came up to Ridley for a day, where they heard about what Ridley has been trying to teach us and had a meeting with our tutors (hence the title!). Both Ali and Sally promise me that they didn't discuss anything that I hadn't already discussed with Ali previously - nevertheless it's a bit wierd knowing that somebody is meeting and talking about you. Obviously, 30 minutes was insufficient time to talk about my many talents and skills - I don't know how they crammed it all in.

After that, all students and incumbents were encouraged to spend time together talking about our hopes and fears for the curacy, our working relationship etc. We had a good chat - we seemed to spend all afternoon sitting on a bench by the croquet lawn - all very civilised!

Sally was bowled over by the stunning setting and the peacefulness of Ridley - I guess we don't necessarily appreciate what a special place it is until somebody points it out. But there's not much of it left - it's now less than 6 weeks until we leave.

End of the holidays

We're just coming up to the end of my last holiday period while at Ridley - from here on it will be back to that more normal pattern of booking time off like most people have to do.

Actually holiday allowance isn't that bad - the equivalent of 6 weeks off a year, and no more than 6 Sundays. And this year I'll arrive in the parish after ordination and we'll be almost straight into the summer holidays!

But what have I been doing for the last 4 weeks of the Easter break? A bit of everything really!

Much of the first week was spent on a mission in Rugby. This is part of my course requirement, and as I'll be writing an essay for assessment I can't say too much here because, bizarrely, if I post details on my blog and then write similar sentences in the essay I may fail an on-line plagarism checker, causing myself to fail! All I'll say is that a team of 8 spent 5 days working with a team of 3 churches in Rugby, supporting them in their aim to reconnect with their communities - it was 'interesting', busy and tiring, but worth it.

After that my parents visited for a few days, then we spent the Easter weekend in Dorset. Along the way we met up with old friends, old churches, visited our new house, and our old house, and ate too much chocolate.

Upon our return we realised that I go back to college on the same day that the kids go back to school, so we had to replan what we had thought would be children-free days to later dates. A few lazy days at home, a few days out, and hey presto, it's suddenly the end of the holiday. I wish I could show siginficant progress on my 4 essays which are due in next term, but that would be tricky. I guess the mission one is half written, and I have at least chosen what the other ones will be, and even started a bit of reading for my Old Testament one, but the weeks ahead are going to be busy, especially as I need to hand some in a few days early in order to be able to go and decorate the new house in late May.

That in itself is a major distraction - when I'm reading a worthy book I'll realise that I've been thinking about paint colours, floorcoverings or electrical applicances. On the upside, we have spent quite a lot of time in retail therapy, disposing of some of the relocation allowance that I receive, and most of the purchases have been made.

From today it's just over 8 weeks until the removal van arrives, 11 weeks until my ordination. 4 essays, a house to decorate, a whole pile of forms to fill out, and a croquet tournament to win!!

Sabbath! And a mad idea

We had a pleasant change from the usual end-of-term short courses this week. We have become accustomed to being shut in a room with 70 other people, allowing Powerpoint to wallow over us and lull us into a catatonic state for a day or so in the week between teaching finishing and term actually ending. However this term was different. With nothing on the calendar I was looking forward to a solid 3 day run at getting my Life and Service essay written. And then, 3 weeks ago we found out that this would not be the case. We were going to have 'compulsory fun' instead, being encouraged to take out at least a half-day in the first half of the week as a 'Sabbath' - a complete break, where we were to spend time recharging our batteries doing something we don't normally get a chance to do.

A Day Off.

There were mixed feelings about this. More than one person was heard to comment that they don't normally get a chance to write an essay so that would be a pleasant change. I wouldn't mind if what was being modelled to us was good long-term planning, but as I've already said, my long-term plan was to use the time to do some work before a deadline, which was the Thursday of the week that we were being told to take time off in!!

As I usually don't do major college work at the weekend, I ended up not working Saturday and Sunday, working like fury on Monday and into early Tuesday morning so that I could take Tuesday off as my Sabbath. I then got my head down on Wednesday, wrote the essay and handed it in on Thursday, when we broke up for Easter. And I've now got a month off..... Brilliant plan!


Having said that, we had a lovely Day Off. We headed over to Ely Cathedral, where we wandered around, had a free guided tour, went in their stained glass museum, took lots of photos and had lunch in the Almondry restuarant nearby before pootling round shops for a while (that bit wasn't my idea!). It was really refreshing to do something completely unrelated to college, and I made a point of doing no work when we got home, even though I could feel the pressure of the unfinished essay.

It was a good exercise to do though. It set a good precedent for when I start Real Work this summer and I start Living At The Office, where boundaries between work and leisure can become very blurred if you let them.

In the spirit of constructive feedback, I've suggested that in future we try to take such breaks in the middle of term, maybe in half-term week - even though the college doesn't do half-term we generally have half or whole days free of timetabled activities each and every week that we could use as Official Down-Time.

And finally, I had a Mad Idea. I've recently become fascinated by cathedrals, how and why they are built, how they serve their communities, how they have evolved. So I've decided that I want to visit all the English cathedrals. There are 'only' 44 of them (or 42 if you exclude the Isle of Man and Gibraltar). If I were Dave Gorman i would now do something irrational, such as committing to do this before my ordination. but I'm not Dave, so I'll just settle for visiting them all at some point in the future. Even 4 per year seems adventurous. Do the math(s)

Should keep me out of trouble.

I've got a Prezi for you!

We had fun in chapel tonight. My fellow student Chris told me about a new piece of audio-visual software called Prezi, which is a great alternative to the ubiquitous Powerpoint, and a bit more flexible. It has some limitation, but it's free and very easy to use.

Here's the result, with what we used tonight:

The main sequence

Psalm 63

Get it at www.prezi.com

Luke, I am your father....

Last year I went along as a spectator, and spent about 20 minutes hanging around. This year I spend nearly 3 hours being measured and trying on clerical garb at what is known as the Tat Fair.

My fashion consultant accompanied me, to ensure that I didn't make any expensive mistakes or choose unwise colours - this is easily the most expensive clothing I've ever bought. But most of what I've ordered today will last me for the rest of my life, unless my shape changes drastically. I've ordered a cassock, a surplice, a preaching scarf, a clerical hoodie and a dual purpose cloak / Jedi costume - which unfortunately doesn't have an internal lightsaber pocket.

It's amazing how casually you can spend hundreds of pounds when you know somebody else is paying for it - we all get a grant to cover the cost of equipping ourselves with the right clothing for the job, and I went with what felt and looked right, rather than looking too closely at the price tag. Some of my colleagues have spent the bare minimum, but that tends to reflect the fact that they will wear the formal robes very little in their weekly duties. Where I'm going I'll be wearing robes Sunday by Sunday, conducting funerals in blustery country churchyards, and hunting down Darth Vader in my spare time.

Look away now if you don't want a preview of the future.

I've yet to order any shirts or stoles (seasonal coloured scarves) as the huge range on display left our heads spinning. Apparently the choices available have considerably widened since women were ordained. And that's a good thing - there is a core set of traditional vicar's shirt colours which I don't particularly like, and it's nice that I can pretty much nominate a colour and find that there will be a shirt available in it. So there's a lot to thank the girls for!!

I did try a couple of shirts on. It's a scary moment when you put that stiff piece of plastic in your collar. Keep this photo to yourself. Don't tell the rest of the internet about it. I think it's an offence to impersonate a clergyman!

Next I just need to find some nice jackets, comfy shoes, some important looking service books, office equipment.....

Forgiven. By Sally Traffic

Further to my earlier article about St Edmund I've now made my confession to a wider audience on Radio 2's 'Confessions' today. (follow the link, it starts at about 37 mins 20 secs into this, but is only there for the next 7 days!)

The good news is that I've been absolved by Father Simon, Brother Matt, Mother Sally and Sister Foxy. So everything is clear for July.

Now, must remember not to mislead parishioners in a similar manner.....

Leaving so soon?

We are already approaching 'The End'. The end of the Lent Term is only 3 weeks away. Two more Sundays and my commitments at my attachment church, St Georges, come to a conclusion. I can be a free agent on a Sunday morning during my final term.

So with this landmark appearing it was time for a farewell pint. And it was on the way to the farewell pint that I realised that the end of my time in Cambridge is really coming to an end. This week I started getting quotes for the house move, so I can set a move date, so I can give notice to our rental agency, which needs to happen next week! That point will mark 'three months to go'.

Am I ready for this?

Big Speakers and Dead Flowers

It was one of those days today. Got very little done, but had a good time doing it.

We welcomed Mike Pilavachi as a guest speaker for a special lecture to the entire Federation this afternoon, as well as preacher at Federation Worship, which meant that we spent all afternoon setting up the sound equipment and soundchecking with the band. In turn this meant that the things I normally spend all Tuesday doing (preparation for lectures for the rest of the week) got compressed or ignored in a small 2 hour slot in the morning.

Mike is somewhat of a celebrity amongst those who have worked with youth - he's the founder of the Soul Survivor annual festivals, amongst other achievements - so many people were looking forward to hearing him speak. Knowing that I was going to be the sound engineer today meant that there was a fair chance I'd be meeting him. However, I didn't expect to go totally incoherent within 30 seconds of meeting him.

The church doorbell rings (yes, they have doorbells!). I answer it. There, like a drowned rat in the pouring rain is a dripping wet Greek bloke. I let him in, introduce myself, he asks me which year I'm in, and I go incoherent trying to explain that I'm a second and final year! I feel like Jar Jar Binks (see illustration). Hardly a great first impression. However, later conversation is a greater improvement. In his lecture Mike spoke of his regret that at Soul Survivor 2009 he encouraged a Big Top full of young people to turn to Jesus, but didn't explain the cost of being a disciple. Afterwards in a quiet corner I catch him and we discuss the effect that obedience to God's call has on not only my own life, but also that of my children who will shortly have to move for the second time in two years, and make friends all over again.

It's interesting the effect that a 'celebrity' speaker has on Fed Worship. We've never had to put extra chairs out before.

Afterwards, clearing up, I demonstrate why churches shouldn't have flowers out in Lent, as I drop a rather heavy speaker (of the audio variety) on top of a lovely arrangement of daffodils and tulips. The speaker won.

Don't stop me now!

I preached a homily in chapel yesterday morning.

"What's a homily?" I hear you all mumble....

It's a very short sermon, a micro-talk, slightly longer than a tweet. About 3 minutes long, which isn't time to say an awful lot. Basically, you need to choose one point and stick to it. In front of the whole college.

The text I was given to work with was the story of Jacob wrestling with God (Genesis chapter 32), after which he walked with a limp for the rest of his life. Which is apt, given that my walking posture is not exactly normal these days.

We opened with a very laid-back jazz version of Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" playing as people came in for Morning Prayer (go to itunes and search for 'Jeroen van der Boom'), which is unusual in itself. It was important to choose the right style of this song, as the original Queen version at 8.15am would have been too much!

This talk was delivered with the chairs arranged facing inwarsd to the aisle, so that I could amble up and down and look people in the eye to challenge them at certain points. I hadn't anticipated how well this would emphasise the fact that I was walking - a very physical demonstration of my point!

My text follows:

As I was thinking about this homily I was sitting in a seminar considering the following verses from Matthew 9, and it struck me how appropriate they were for the message that was swimming around in my head:

And as Jesus sat at dinner in the house, many tax-collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, ‘Why does your teacher eat with tax-collectors and sinners?’ But when he heard this, he said, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick [do]. Go and learn what this means, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.’

Do you need a physician? I wonder if you realize that you are sick? In last week’sDimbleby lecture Sir Terry Pratchett spoke of his Alzheimers disease, how over a number of years he noticed that his typing wasn’t as good as it had been, that he wasn’t noticing things, that gradually life was changing.

In our reading from Genesis today we heard of how Jacob wrestled with God, and had a sudden change in his leg. He was left with a limp for the rest of his life.

I wonder how that passage spoke to you. For me it was an interesting choice, because, like Jacob, I’ve got a dodgy leg. In fact I’ve got two dodgy legs. But like Sir Terry, I didn’t even know that I had for a long time. For several years before I came to Ridley people at work asked me why I was walking ‘like that’, and I, reassured by family, told them that I’ve always walked ‘like that’. It’s only when I got here and met a whole pile of concerned new friends, who were trying desperately to exercise their new found pastoral skills, along with a physiotherapist at my attachment church who told me that actually we’ve never had an acolyte who walks ‘like that’ and I really ought to get it seen to, that I started to think ‘maybe there is something wrong’. And within thirty seconds of meeting my consultant, he could tell that there was something not quite right with me. But the diagnosis had to wait until somebody had the chance to put some serious voltages through my legs…

You see, the motor nerves to my toes, feet and ankle are slowly losing communication with my brain. It’s called a neuropathy, and it’s unlikely that anything can be done about it. It’s taken 40 years to get as far as not being able to stand on tiptoes, and I didn’t even know I couldn’t do that until I was asked to… So I might end up walking with a stick. Now I understand why I was finding it so difficult to climb the 54 stairs to my study at the top of ‘A’ staircase last year. Now I know why my legs get tired in the middle of a long shopping expedition, or why I sometimes need to hold onto the chair in front of me during a long liturgical stand. Like Jacob I’ve been living with a limp. Unlike Jacob I didn’t even realize I had it. So if this time last year Jesus had told me I needed to see a physician (whether literally or metaphorically) I might have laughed at him and said “Not me, Jesus, I don’t need a doctor. I’m alright. You must mean somebody else.” But, if we’re talking in the same metaphor as Jesus, that puts me in the same place as the Pharisees, who thought that they had no need of a physician.

I know I’m not perfect – yet – but that’s the stuff I’m aware of. I know the things that I keep confessing and promising not to do again, but that keep coming back. What behaviours am I not aware of? Maybe sometimes I think “that’s just me, take it or leave it” when in reality I need to change something. There are the words that spill out of us when we're stressed or caught off guard that reflect the real inner 'me', not the professional ‘shields up’ public front that we start to develop here.

Are you busy saying “Don’t stop me now. I’m having such a good time” to Jesus?
What does he want to bring to your attention that you’re ignoring?

Picture (c) thebricktestament.com

Trouble at the top?

This window intersects my field of vision most days of the week - it's the east end of Ridley chapel. I gaze at it while waiting for things to start. I focus on different things - sometimes the different people, sometimes the tiny details, sometimes the shape of the stonework. In the winter I long for the summer mornings to come so that it is backlit by the rising sun. In the summer I wish that there were more buildings behind it because the sunlight is dazzling me!

Just recently I've noticed what's happening, but I don't know why. The figures, from left to right, are: St Peter, St Matthew, Jesus, St Luke, and St Paul. But Paul has obviously fallen out with Jesus about something, as all the others are looking towards Jesus - Paul is the only one with his head turned away.

Answers on a postcard please!