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.
