A sad reflection?

No, I'm not particularly upset (although some might say I was a sad individual!) In fact I wonder if a reflection can have any emotions after all, since it is virtual. But that's not the point either.

I was just idling away the time reading something on the BBC web-site, to wit, some information trailing the new BBC series "The Blair Years" which starts tonight (2215 GMT). Information about how the former PMs faith influenced his politics.

What prompted my musings was the following quote:

The public might have been less willing to give him the triumph of three consecutive general election victories if they'd known the extent to which ethical values would overshadow pragmatism," Sir Menzies said.

Now, I'm very aware that I can be cynical. But I find it a very sad reflection on the state of our collective identity, and "health" as a nation, if Ming is right. Then again, the prevailing post-modern mantra that 'if it works for you then it's right' is surely, if nothing else, a triumph of pragmatism over conviction. A bit like those who pinch lead off church roofs in pursuit of fast money. Most of my congregation can't really get their heads around the phenomenon, so it must be a generational thing. I expect nothing less, they find it hard to conceive that anyone would do such a thing. Another away win for pragmatism...

A Good Day

I don't think I have ever received a phone call from the Police before. Not, you might think, very good news.

Now, there are very few things which are unadulterated good news. After all, even the Good News, involved death, grief and separation as a necessary part of the package. So, having more of the South Aisle awash on a rainy day cannot be construed as especially good.

But for the ladies and gentlemen of the Northamptonshire Constabulary (or whatever their "correct" term may be) to nab five individuals and their stolen van red-, or should I say, lead-handed, is most definitely good news!

So thank you to the eagle-eyed member of the community for your vigilance, and when I know who you are I will be turning on your doorstep to say that personally.

Well, I did pray half-seriously yesterday morning for some angles to be stationed on the roof, and some of my clergy colleagues joined in prayer later in the day too. Now all I need to pray for is a dry spell... or some more buckets.

Who? Me?

I've decided to de-anonymise myself. St. Z's will still be afforded a degree of protection, as will EMUT. Continuing bloggers already know me, and anyone who tries hard enough can get round the pseudonymity, so what's the point? The vast majority of my readers (who understand this strange twin beast of faith and church) don't find anything new, anyway.

Do they mean me?

Went to a very worthwhile "Bishops' day for Clergy" today - the EMUT one, not the Small University City one. I had a New Incumbents Induction thing last week (I may have commented on it) at which I expressed mild concern about appearing to be the youngest there. So today I was very politely asked my age by the DDO (Diocesan Director of Ordinands, I you must know)... which I did - after all it may be impolite to ask a lady her age, but it may also be impolite to refuse when asked!

Her response was one of near-delight. Something like "O good, we may have to have a talk..."

It turns out that I could help in their drive to scare-off, sorry, to recruit "young ordinands." I do not think of myself as "young" - but the diocese apparently do. "Anyone under 45."

Oh deary, deary me....

Lest we forget

Remembrance has been and gone again for another year - and this year was the first time I've conducted such events on my own and in a church. First there was the curacy and then there was the whole business of being building-less.

So here are some points as a sort of aide-memoire and reflection, which I hope I'll remember, and may be useful for any soon-to-be-first-time incumbents.

First though: the general principle. It will be presumed that you, as the vicar, know what you are doing. This is a double-edged sword. It reflects the community's trust in you, while at the same time making it potentially difficult to actually ask. Despite the fact that nearly all churches will claim to be the same everywhere is different, of course.

If you have a 10'o'clock service and the expectation of being at the War Memorial for 11am, the following may be of use. (Bearing in mind the perils involved with changing anything, which is a general clerical hazard in the first place!)

- do you really need all three readings? Could you get by with only two, especially bearing in mind that the sermon may well need to be truncated?

- unless your channels of communication are especially good (text messages from the choir, perhaps) don't rely on the Sunday School being able to hear the bell sounded during the consecration. In fact, do you need Sunday School that day?

- can you escape with shorter hymns (leaving aside some of the potential theological questions inherent in some of the words)?

Maybe the biggest question of all: Given the emotional resonances for many in the congregation and very real memories of friends, parents and loved ones' involvement and sacrifice in conflict (although these are generally declining as a simple function of ageing) how do you sensitively address the issue that Remembrance Sunday is not a Christian Commemoration per se? The Lectionary and Calendar make passing reference in allowing variation of the Collect, but the readings are part of the "Before Advent" series.

But maybe that's for another day.

Mixed Blessings

Isn't it strange how many ways and contexts there are in which the word blessing or blessed crops up? Maybe more often than not it can be a euphemism or a platitude. To a sneeze we reply "Bless you!" We use it to substitute for something like blasted or damned, and make the problem sound like it's welcome. I'm not quite sure of the reasoning, unless it's simple Bowdlerism. Possibly trying to sanctify something and bring it to the attention of the power of God. Maybe Jesus is the ultimate Blessed Nuisance - certainly in the eyes of the First Century Religious Establishment, and maybe even for ourselves and our own.

As a priest I am empowered to pronounce God's blessing. It isn't mine to give after all... I stand in loco Deorum. (I trust my Latin is up to scratch!) Which makes me wonder why we use oils blessed by the bishop (or should it be blessed through the agency of the bishop?) when a word uttered by the priest would do. I suspect it's a matter of ecclesiology and a recognition of the primacy of the bishop.

In the last couple of weeks I've had two very different offices of blessing to perform, both at relatively short notice and both slightly euphemistic in origin. One for and over a relationship in what is technically referred to as an Act of Dedication after a Civil Marriage - a most definitely desired relationship between two persons. And the other over an unwanted presence of relationship in the form of a house blessing - a request for an outpouring of God's cleansing power and the eviction of any other-worldly and negatively-orientated presence.

In both cases they were "firsts", if you don't count trying to bless my previous Vicarage - and even that was more often in the form of words closer to those allegedly used by Cromwell to dismiss the Rump Parliament: "Depart, I say; and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!"

Interestingly enough my curacy prepared me for neither of these eventualities, despite proving of great general value.

However, I suppose I should depart from this virtual location - and head back to the more practised, but rather less-interesting, act of sermon preparation...

Well, things are beginning to hot up here in EMUT, with this week having my first external preaching slot, my first attempt at doing something a little more pro-active in the Chaplaincy, and that old mainstay of Anglican ministry - funerals - beginning to appear. Stir in Halloween and a Chaplaincy Guest Lecture and it's quite a potent mix.

St. Z's has a close link with the adjoining parish, which once upon a Victorian time was actually a daughter church, so in the great tradition of good neighbourliness when I was invited to preach there I jumped at the opportunity, and then fretted and struggled to produce something for All Souls - a celebration that I see as pastorally valuable but sometimes theologically dubious. An occasion for those who have lost a loved one (or any or, often, no apparent, faith) to seek solace and comfort in the bosom of the church they don't attend. Please excuse my slight cynicism as I betray my rather intolerant evangelical roots, but there's no point in denying it. Ultimately it all went rather well, a chance to act like a curate again, having a part, but not the lead role in the great drama of the liturgy. Several hours of fretting had produced two-thirds of a sermon, or to put it the other way, left one third inspiration required. And praise God he delivered and didn't let me down. I set great store on careful preparation, and know that I don't always reach the standard I set myself, but sometimes just "reading" the congregation can tell you so much, as can listening to the hymns chosen and the words used, especially if you've not been part of the process.

Chaplaincy can still only be described as mixed. The ministry of hospitality and encounter is rewarding, like the 2 dozen students who turned up for free tea in the foyer of the arts campus 5 minutes before I was going to wheel my trolley away. Good for community presence and feel-good factor, good for showing practical Christian love in action, but rather less, at least as yet, for meaningful engagement. Likewise, having, decided based on observation and a little discussion, to start up "Thursday Soulspace", providing an explicit chance for tea and chat followed by a simple opportunity for prayer together I sat alone in the Chaplaincy for a complete 2 hour period. It's easy to say that "it takes time" but rather harder to sit through it A bit like being "stood up" by the representative of a charismatic evangelical group of mixed repute busy trying to re-enter the Christian mainstream on Friday lunch time. The fact I was feeling distinctly unwell probably didn't help, but even so. (And to be charitable, they could have emailed an apology, but since the Wireless Access Point the Chaplaincy uses has gone down we wouldn't have received it!)

Halloween proved a delightful damp squib from the domestic viewpoint, although a house lakccng a sign and possessed of a decent gate, not to mention official No Trick or Treat posters, might have something to do with it. As it happened I was out (on my day off) at an excellent Chaplaincy Guest Lecture on "Sexuality, Scripture and Psychology". The turn out was better than I anticipated, but primarily drawn from the town rather then the uni, which is a shame. It would have been nice to have a good mix. The speaker, coming from the Roman Catholic tradition, took some material I'd heard before, but never really engaged with, and produced a compellingly-argued synthesis about relationships, both human and divine, in the context their application to the two great commandments. I'm now eagerly awaiting the book to be published next year by Gracewing. It reminded me that I don't really do enough "proper" theology.

On the funeral front I'm going to have to cope with twin issues of the long-term association of individuals with the former incumbent and their desire for his involvement alongside the fact of only working half-time and finding a list of willing substitute clergy for those occasions when I'm not available. It will work through, in time, just like the requests for marriages from outside the parish based on "pretty-building-syndrome."

Do I have enough hours in the day? No. Do I have enough energy? No. Do I have enough experience? Don't know. Am I enjoying it, and sure that God has called me here? Oh, yes!