lurchersontheedge

I guess I will not be alone amongst the plethora of priests all around the globe helping people celebrate all soulstide over the coming days. I have never been sure how to strike the correct tone or poise for this commemorative period. On the one hand, we will help scores of folks remember their loved ones. On the other, I will be trying to make sense of the communion of saints.

I have been helped slightly over the last few days. The first was by a visit to our very beautiful Rowantree Cottage, which is near Annan. We keep some old photos there. I was able to remember the departed, from my Dad to an old cat, by looking at the photos; as well as remember those who are still alive, who I have lost touch with, from Ben Squires, who was my Best Man many years ago to people who were there at my ordination just over 10 years ago. As I stood in front of the fireplace looking at the photos, I was there with the people I was remembering, whether remembering that extraordinary day in June 1993, when Ben and I were woken at 5:30am in the morning by Jennifer’s aunt to see if we were okay or of actually seeing my Dad in photos that were taken before I was born. It was as if I was there, although rationally I could not have been. I did this all in silence, apart from the occasional whoops of delight.

The second was yesterday evening at the Craft Club, when I was looking at photos again, designing cards for the Christmas bazaar. As I looked at extraordinary photos, I was there; but in company with others. There was something interesting about sharing scenes with those who had not been there physically.

I am not sure why this all helps me with the communion of saints. It just seems to suggest that the gap between those we do not see any longer, either separated by circumstance or death, can be very thin indeed.

My job is to celebrate this over the coming holy days

A dear friend passed away, slipped away, went to be with the Lord, died yesterday. We had not really been in touch very much over the last few years, but when we were; we were good. My friend was an evangelist and an, ever so confident, follower of Jesus.

We did postgraduate study together and therefore we knew each other very well indeed in areas of Ancient Jewish Literature. I read the tributes made to him on various social networking sites; admired them, and then wondered what people might say about me.

He was, I think, a year younger than me, which gives food for thought. It also makes me ask what we think life is for; and whether or not what we focus upon is worth the amount of energy we spend on it.

I am reminded of the film Dead Poet’s Society, where the character Mr Keating has his young group of students look at photos of their predecessors; reminding them that their predecessors had probably already died. “Seize the Day” or “Carpe Diem” is Keating’s motto.

Seek first God’s Kingdom was the mantra of another; and of my now late and much loved friend, “live life well”. Good advice that, and I am determined to follow it.

Much of Parish ministry is to do with bumbling. In August, I blogged particularly in relation to work in schools, but for now, I want to become a little more general; parish ministry per se.

First, I want to be deliberately uncool, and say I am a massive fan of Parish ministry. I think it is one of the gifts of outrageous grace that the Church of England offers to the nation. This does not mean that there are no shortcomings at times, and indeed other models which could be used. But Parish ministry done well should, I would suggest, lead to spiritual growth within a Parish.

A day in the life of this vicar may or may not set out what I mean.

06:20 Out for a walk with the hounds, to Woodgate Valley Country Park – an amazing place, as the sunlight begins to dance over the trees. I meet a bereaved widower. Stand and chat whilst the hounds eat him out of dog biscuits. He always carries dog biscuits, even though he does not have a hound. We have smiled at each other, well sometimes, for 2 years. He knows who I am, and he talks about his late wife.

08:00 Phone call from Head of VA School. Ofsted are in. It is raining. Harvest assembly in school rather than church.

08:45 Take son to the said school, talk to other parents on the way. Greet children. Respond positively, or try to, to every ‘Rev Kev’ type greeting.

09:00 Assembly

10:30 At the local shops, stop and talk to shop keepers about nothing much. I think they like me doing this, because they complain when I just whizz past without so much as a smile. In my training as a curate, my Incumbent said, that a stipend frees you just to look like you are doing nothing.

12:15 Lunch with other clergy

1:30 Meeting with vice-chair of the governing body, we are going to meet an ofsted inspector. Hope you are praying, he says, I say yes; but wonder why he thinks it necessary, being our resident athiest.

2:00 Ofsted interview – I will blog later when results are public

2:30 Back in Bartley Green. Brief funeral follow-up chat with someone on the telephone

3:00 Meeting with the Bishop of Birmingham

4:00 Meeting (another) with council officials and history group about the old church graveyard, and a memorial stone that is to be dedicated in honour of the centenary of Bartley Green becoming part of the city of Birmingham by Bishop Andrew. There are some discussions about an adjacent piece of land, and an ashes garden.

5:00 Fifa 11 wii game…. and entertainment for son, friend, friend’s brother, friend’s sister, and another friend. I greet one of son’s friends with the words ‘peace be upon you’ in Arabic. ‘Are you a muslim?’ he asks. Bumbling can be taken to extremes, one thinks.

7:00 Community Chest money meeting. An interesting hotch potch of people; councillors, police, ward officers, invited members of the public and me.

Of course, other days… might feature… trying to read the Scriptures, responding to an emergency call. It could be lots of playing on the wii or watching a DVD, reading (or not reading) a book, playing with the boy, hounds, dinner with the boss, doing rotas, going to a funeral or baptism visit… standing in the rain… visiting… drinking tea, coffee or something else.

I think bumbling in terms of Parish ministry requires commitment and the ability to be with people. If you are like me, you will need also to create a bubble of bumbling lonesomeness which will innoculate you against being with people most of the time.

Good consistent being there for others cannot help but allow the church to grow and blossom.

I wonder when such an idea might catch on.

Last weekend we hosted, at St Michael and All Angels, Bartley Green, a weekend of teaching on healing, led by Bishop Graham Dow. Bishop Graham was formerly the Bishop of Carlisle and therefore formerly my own Bishop. Those reading this blog entry will probably guess that whilst the Bishop and I agree wholeheartedly that God heals; there are several nuances between us. I did for example want to add the word ‘sometimes’ between ‘God’ and ‘heals’. There were around 40 participants; many of whom were moved and responded well to the weekend. Yesterday morning, at our traditional Parish Eucharist, Bishop Graham spoke (for perhaps a little too long), but around half of the congregation… elderly… young… white…. black…. responded to the offer of prayers for healing.

I have no idea at all what was prayed for, or whether people went away ‘healed’. What seems to be true is this. People responded to the invitation. How many times do people simply not respond because they are not invited? People, in the response, were listened to? How many times when people respond are they not listened to? Being listened to can make someone feel alive again; it is a healing, indeed a salvific experience. People responded because hope was offered? The offer of hope seems to be something central to the mission of the Church, the mission of God.

I think I might try to remember these things.

English, yet African.

I have been thinking

No surprise there

I have been thinking about remembering. I guess it is because of the time of year that is approaching. Schools, community groups and churches will shortly be celebrating Harvest. We will remember how food is produced, and in some schools learn how it is produced.

Attention will turn very quickly to acts of Remembrance. At my Church from 29 September to 2 October, we will remember the ancient feast of Michaelmas; the church is dedicated to St Michael and All Angels.

We will then focus our attention of National Remembrance, and more importantly for us, all soulstide and our annual memorial services for those who have been bereaved.

I have been remembering, with affection and regret my late father, who was at one at the same time the most amazingly brilliant and infuriating human being I have ever met in my life.

This poem is dedicated to him. It was written on the beach (Lee Bay, Devon) earlier this summer, in the middle of making sand castles with my boy. In part it reflects unanswered questions; and in part touches on a relationship that could have been better, but was not because of the multi-layered needs of two highly complex human beings. I trust this poem is helpful to others. Sometimes, we need to release the one who has died, and sometimes they need to release us. That does not fit into nice neat evangelical theology and is probably beyond the ken of those without faith… but in my experience as someone who has lost and walked with those as a priest with those who have also lost, it rings true.

Where the sea meets the horizon,

and the sun dances on the white horse waves,

an empty chair sits still,

for this wiseman who is a fool.

We sat opposite each other for ages,

smiling,

nodding and (male) groaning;

but we never said a word.

Each of us struck by a dumbness that Zechariah would have found

absurd.

I cannot own your anger,

until I have embraced my own.

Your moist eyes cannot woo me,

this destiny is mine alone.

You left me to face the darkness of a myriad of issues alone

words of comfort overwhelmed me, but they were hollow, empty;

filled with pity

You were not angry on my behalf

You allowed my tears to fall unheard

Your hand was far from me

Your smile began to be unheard

Then you performed the final audacity

Dying before I could say, why did you leave

And yet,

And yet,

there is still an anger, which ravages me

Even tigers though can be tamed

or at least there mouths shut tight

My anger can be controlled

No fear,

Regret

No bitterness,

Sorrow

I start my journey afresh, unencumbered and alone.

One day soon, – I do trust

I will sit in the (your) empty chair

and release you from that anger

that you seemed to make me bear

Life will be fruitful

No longer hindered by regret

The staff in my hand is bathed now in light

Finished – it will be

May God bless you my father, now and always.

It is interesting that the writing is cathartic. I hope the reading will be too.

Peace to all.

As we remember those we have loved and lost, let us be open about the ambiguities we face, acknowledging that each one of us is ambiguous, frail yet infused with glory

I took a piece of bread and wine today, and blessed it and fed 50 people with the sacrament. This is both literally and figuratively speaking.

This afternoon, 5 of us met to explore confirmation. We examined what would be in a good party

1. Good Music
2. Good Food
3. Happy People

We moved on to appreciate the fact that in most family parties there is sometimes a tinge of sadness as memories of people who have died are shared or as dreams that once were colourful are acknowledged as faded or monochrome.

I believe that in the Service of Holy Communion, Eucharist, Mass, Lord’s Supper et al that heaven and earth meet: it is a cosmic feast.

In the face of such wonder; let the silence begin and action take place

Everybody Welcome Bartley Green

I have to be a little bit careful lest someone might get the impression that I go into schools purely to convert people. That would not be true; I still believe it is God the Holy Spirit who converts. I am though convinced that schools are a vital part of any local community and have the potential to set people free; pupils, parents and staff alike.

I am delighted to have schools in the Parish where I am vicar, who want to engage with the Church. As one Head puts it, ‘Church and School are the two constants on our estate; therefore it is important to work together’. Of course, this means being wheeled out to do collective worship, participating in school governance, and learning to give opinions on things that I know relatively little about and going along to school productions. When there are several schools on the patch this is something that takes committed and attentive time.

Committed, attentive and generous time is something that I will return to. For now, all I want to say is that this is not an area that I am a specialist in. I am a product of the instant generation. Born in 1967, I am accustomed to things being done quickly; this is why every year I have a habitual struggle with growing tomato plants. I start with good intentions: grow bags, proper feed and the intention to water twice daily. Sometimes I forget to go outside and water them, I am then overcome with guilt and drench for 2-3 days. The end result is that I do get some toms, but the plants are twisted and the fruit themselves, although truly scrumptious do not conform to what a tom should actually look like. I want things too quickly at times; and therefore do not spend enough time making sure the plant can grow, even if in theory I know all that should be done. Of course a key part to success in any school is committed, generous time.

Generosity is at the very heart of what Christians believe (should believe) God to be like. The parables told by Jesus of Nazareth are mostly to do with generosity. An excellent example of this is the Parable of the Sower, which is found in Mark 4

¹Again^(A) he began to teach beside the sea. And a very large crowd gathered about him,^(B) so that he got into a boat and sat in it on
the sea, and the whole crowd was beside the sea on the land. ²And^(C) he was teaching them many things in parables, and in his teaching he said to them: ³“Listen!^(D) A sower went out to sow. ⁴And as he sowed, some seed  fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured it. ⁵Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and immediately it sprang up, since it had no depth of soil. ⁶And^(E) when the sun rose, it was scorched, and since it had no root,^(F) it withered away. ⁷Other seed fell among^(G) thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. ⁸And other seeds fell into good soil and produced grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirtyfold and sixtyfold and^(H) a hundredfold.” ⁹And he said, ^(I) “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”

Now, partly because of Mark’s explanation of what the Parable means, most interpreters and preachers have concentrated on responses to faith. I wonder though whether in the example of the Sower, we have a model of overwhelming generosity. Farmers in the Ancient Near East depended on their crops for survival. Unlike me, who if the tom plants finally give up the ghost am not unduly concerned, those farmers had experienced enough of hunger and want to know what would happen if the crop failed. Thus it is very odd just to accept the fact that the farmer scattered his seed in a haphazard way, unaware of what would happen to seedlings growing on rocks or among thorns. Perhaps what we have is not a Parable about faith responses, but one about the generous farmer who is constantly lavishing us with care; regardless of whether that care is rejected. Other Parables such as the Good Samaritan or the Lost Sons also point to generosity. Indeed of the latter, a lay leader in my last Parish was incadescent with concern (he was an Anglican) over the father’s welcome for his son: ‘too much generosity; too much grace; it is outrageous’ he was often heart to murmur.

Generosity, grace; indeed outrageous grace are the foundational stones of bumbling. Bumbling with intent to attentively listen and build relationships. So much for the theory, how does it work it practice; particularly in relation to schools?

First, bumbling can be misunderstood. We live in a society where time is precious, and people do not usually have time to just be there; listening. It takes time to overcome such misunderstandings. It is one thing to be there for collective worship and for the odd RE lesson; to go on a trip or be at a meeting to do with governance; but another to listen to the secretary, receive a prayer request from a pupil or earn the right to enter the head’s study and talk as two professionals caring for the same people. Time is not something that is seen as being on offer in most growth manuals or packages that will change a church or organisation. Indeed it is crazy in my context. More people attend church now than they did two years ago; however we are not growing fast enough to cover all those who will ‘be promoted to glory’ as William Booth once put it. Talking to the secretary or hearing a pupil’s prayer request seems to be quite passive when action is required. That is however to misunderstand the outrageousness of grace.

Second, there needs to be some constancy. This means being willing to be there ‘in season and out of season’ to quote the late John Stott and of course the ever so cuddly Apostle Paul (there I have often wanted to put cuddly and Paul in the same sentence). In my context, the head tells me often that church and school are the two constants on the estate. We therefore need to prove it. This will mean the usual involvement, but waiting patiently for other opportunities. An example of this has been a transition project where the church paid for an artist to work with every primary school child transitioning to the local secondary school. This was funded by the Church Urban Fund Mustard Seed Grant programme, which has in turn led to creative involvements with the Church Flower Festival(!) and the acceptance by the schools of a Lee Abbey Team going into work with their pupils in early 2012. More surprisingly, 2-3 of the Heads are clear; come into school ‘to do God’. That is your area of expertise. We have taken 2 years to get to this place; which is longer than the usual growth strategy.

Third, you need not to expect results immediately. However what is a result in Christian terms? Is it more bums on seats. Yes, I know I want my name in lights (for good reasons) having doubled the congregation. Perhaps not entirely. Is it more confident rounder people, who are sometimes confident and committed followers of the generous God? Yes, think that is true.

To bumble means sometimes looking like you do not know where you are going. That is unnerving and uncomfortable. It is also about being prepared to be misunderstood and allowing people to wonder what an earth you are doing. That in itself can be quite liberating.

Bumbling is an odd word to choose for even a semi-strategy about leadership and growth. Someone has said that I do intentional bumbling. Is that a contradiction in terms? Bumbling does resonate with the idea that one is not in control of the direction one is heading in. That would seem to be true of any work with human beings per se; but perhaps resonates in particular with parochial ministry in the Church of England.

I can only reflect on my current context as I see it. I can intend certain things to happen, but whether or not they are achieved is dependent in many ways upon the intentions of others; indeed in my line of work, God has something to say too. I can, as I have done this afternoon, anoint with oil ‘for healing, comfort and peace’. What effect this may or may not have is not only down to me. Similarly, when I visit Sandra (name changed) tomorrow about her father’s funeral, I will do my best bumbling, feeling my way into the situation, and how effective I am will depend on a number of circumstances. People stuff cannot and does not depend on manuals and plans.

This does not mean that the distilled wisdom of leadership gurus like John C Maxwell cannot be helpful in a church context nor that the observations from different cultural contexts like those offered by Ajith Fernando are not relevant; only that strategy is not the be and end all of everything.

I am not a strategist – maybe that is not the problem. I do not have a list of people to visit; indeed I sometimes miss things because I do not; sometimes because I forget to remember things that I have been told. Too often my diary is in another place, and therefore absent without leave when things need to be written in it.

Yet, at the same time; I am committed to people and place. I have no interest in career progression; which is good given the uncertainty of the future of the institution for which I work. I drop into people. I can be an attentive listener; although not all the time, sometimes the world has to be made to wait; which is a sentiment not expressed very often in the average leadership manual.

I guess for me the beginning is learning to look for what might be described as signs of the divine. That starts with me, I am afraid. I cannot offer anything that I have not got. On the one hand, you might say that I have a working class background, am someone who failed ‘O’ and ‘A’ levels, but ended up with a Ph.D. I do have a tenacity for keeping going when perhaps it would be sensible to give up. I am not great at conversations, often because I feel I have nothing to say or am asking why would anyone want to hear me. There is an uncertainty then within me. I remember when working for the London City Mission as an evangelist, a heckler saying to me, ‘you don’t seem quite sure, do you? There was an element of truth in what he said; I was sure of my faith; but not sure about myself. Like many people, inadequacy could be my middle name. Therefore, manuals that depict leaders, even ecclesiastical ones, as rambo-type figures complete with razor-sharp bible verses, words of knowledge and uber-confidence sit force me out of their picture. Seeing signs of the divine within myself is difficult. I am though getting there slowly.

Indeed, in the context in which I minister, seeing signs of the divine per se can be difficult. This is not to say that they are not there, but they are not expected. My people do not seem to know that God is on their side. This is probably because no one else seems to be on their side. When someone’s horizons are limited – one might say sometimes forcibly inhibited, it can be difficult for signs of the divine to break through. Poverty and poverty of expectation can strangle hope. Someone, perhaps it was Napolean (not my preferred leadership mentor) said that ‘leaders trade in giving hope’; thus leading in a situation without hope is more difficult that it appears.

You can though bumble. Bumbling is unobtrusive; like the mustard seed of old it appears out of no where. Bumbling can be liberating; for it happens, and opportunites can come and people can be set free, just as easy at the caterpillar becomes the butterfly

Happy bumbling