SIMPLY HAVING...

Your Busy Time...

"It's coming up to your busy time, isn't it?" people say, cheerily. Every priest gets this, all through their ministry, every Christmas. There's no point in saying that actually there are more services at Easter, because people are trying to be friendly. It's an indication that they sort of understand Christmas; it's a frenetic time, and they recognize that we have some sort of proprietorial relationship with it. And to be fair, Christmas is more stressful than Easter because the extra services are things that you are not in control of. In Holy Week you have a very demanding round of worship, but you set the pace, and the liturgy is all given, so you know what's coming next, whereas at Christmas, there is an expectation that you will put in an appearance, give a welcome, say a prayer or a blessing and generally be Christmassy at events that you haven't planned, and where you don't know how long they will last. If they are using your building then you probably have to open and close for them and generally do what a verger does in places that have vergers (though the excellent Lesley does some of that for me here). When you go to someone else's premises to do the Christmas thing you often fail to factor in the possibility of being offered mince pies by nice hospitable people, which again adds to uncertainty over timing. I should say that I'm in no position to complain, as we have hardly any outside requests for use of our buildings as Christmas venues, unlike some of my brethren, in more "civic" churches, where there is a constant procession of carol services for one organisation or institution or another from late November onwards. It's also not just worship, because there are Christmas events of other sorts that require a clerical presence as well.

The reason clergy tend not to welcome the "busy time" comment, though, is that underlying it is the assumption that we're not busy the rest of the time. There is a very persistent presumption in England (which goes back centuries) that the clergy are idle and ineffectual, and in a society that doesn't much want to engage with things of the spirit, or matters of life and death, it's not surprising that many people simply can't envisage what we do all day. We are economically unproductive, and so don't fit easily into a business model, which is how most people seem to be encouraged to view the world just now. To be fair, lots of churchgoers seem to imagine that their parish priest does nothing very much for most of the time, which is a bit frustrating. All the clergy I know work very hard, all year round, and don't actually take anything like the amount of time off that they are supposed to. Finding the time for one's personal relationships, not to mention prayer, study and reading, all of which are supposed to be priorities for us, is always a challenge.     


Are You Going Away?

The other question that grates for us just now (this is really Scrooge-like!) is when people ask, "Are you going away for Christmas?" which someone does almost every day. Some then think about it and add, "Oh, but I suppose you have to be here," but it's amazing how many that never occurs to. Yes, actually, I shall be here, because I have to celebrate the Holy Mysteries at Midnight, and on Christmas morning; and please don't think I'm complaining about that. Far from it; that is a great privilege for a parish priest. And it's entirely appropriate that we should be at home at Christmas, because you're supposed to be in the bosom of your family, and actually, for the priest, your congregation and the people of the neighbourhood are your extended family. It would feel very strange to be worshipping with a different bunch of people at Christmas from those you minister to for the rest of the year. But the question just forgets that whereas Christmas means holiday for most people, we are the one profession who are absolutely guaranteed to be working, at least up until lunchtime on Christmas Day. It doesn't necessarily stop then, either, because I remember years ago having someone turn up on my doorstep after dark on Christmas Day who needed to make a confession, which demanded quite a change of gear.


Deck The Halls

The events, however, have been joyful. Our Christmas fair raised over a thousand pounds (which should please the treasurer, who was crewing a yacht sailing across the Atlantic) and passed off happily. The Lunch Club Christmas Party fed about sixty people (variously elderly, vulnerable or needy) with, frankly, a feast, cooked almost single-handed by the indefatigable Jacqui, and ended with an extraordinarily diverse group sitting around playing dominoes. I went along to the Paddington Festival Gala Awards last week, to support one of the volunteers who works incredibly hard to support the Lunch Club, and who we'd put up for an award, which he duly received, but then I found myself being given an award for "encouraging community spirit", which was a total surprise. It was good to see ordinary people being saluted for making an effort in their community, and moving to see how loyal to the area many people who have grown up in Paddington are. Probably our most important events, though, were carols in St Mary Magdalene's Church for Edward Wilson School, the other school on the Estate, the secular, "community" school, whose student body is at least 90% Muslim. The current Head decided a year ago that it was not sustainable for the school to ignore Christmas, as it had done, and so last year was the first time they used our building, while I stayed away, at his request, so as not to appear to be proselytising. This year I was asked to be present and welcome people, which I was delighted to do, and it was really encouraging to see lots of parents there. A new group of people found that they were welcome in a beautiful and inspiring space, which is what it's all about. Happy Christmas!    

THREE CHURCHES

 

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH

I went back to my old parish in Reading the other day, for the induction of the new Vicar; now you never attend the induction of your immediate successor, for obvious reasons, but after that there’s no particular prohibition. It is quite unusual, though.  All Saints, Downshire Square, Reading, is a Victorian daughter-church of Reading Minster, which sits on the crest of the chalk ridge along which the Bath Road runs. It is a handsome, well-kept church, much beautified by my predecessor. I suppose I have kept in touch with All Saints better than is normal, mostly because Helen’s best friend is still there, and of course here in Paddington we are quite conveniently situated for popping over to Reading (fast trains from Paddington, as they say). I carefully tried not to undermine my successor, and I have no intention of criticizing the new Vicar, but when I heard about the Induction I thought it would be good to go along. The new Vicar is a woman, you see. 

When I moved to All Saints, in 1996, it was in the wake of great controversy, and deep hurt, over the ordination of women. My predecessor, Fr Jones, had been a doughty opponent of women’s ordination, and when it came to pass spent a good deal of energy in trying to persuade his people. In the end he resigned in 1995 and became a Roman Catholic (though he subsequently came back to the Church of England). There were bitter arguments in the parish, and one family moved to another church amid much unhappiness. When I was appointed the bishop’s clear desire was that I should keep the parish in the Church of England and try to heal the divisions. I stayed eleven years in Reading, and hope that was what was achieved. We managed to steer a course where I hope everyone felt they were part of the family. I believe my successor carried on much the same. Now, though, a woman has been appointed, and I felt it was important to be seen to offer support, so along I went. It was interesting to see a number of those who had been unconvinced by the wisdom of the ordination of women were there to welcome their new parish priest. Nobody was tactless enough to ask me, “Did you ever think you’d see this?” but I don’t suppose I did. Things have changed. Not impressed by the poor turnout of clergy from Reading Deanery, though; in my day we tried hard to attend these things, for the sake of solidarity.

OPEN OR CLOSED

I had a Sunday off to go down to Exeter, to the parish I served my first curacy in. There they were closing a church, St Andrew’s, on Alphington Road. St Andrew’s is a modern building, which replaced a “tin church” that had been destroyed in the war, and has a very high, steeply-pitched roof. Its fittings are a bit 1960s. Now I had no particular connection with St Andrew’s when I was there, I was mostly at the parish church, St Thomas, but St Andrew’s was Helen’s church. She was the head server there when I arrived, and her father was churchwarden, and her mother became sacristan. Ian, her brother, was in Cambridge then, but when he returned to Exeter when the Met Office moved down there a few years ago he slotted back into St Andrew’s. So the life of St Andrew’s has been part of my family for thirty years. I didn’t particularly want to go, but the idea gradually crept up on me that I should, and I asked a colleague whether he could do the service for me at St Peter’s, having worked out that it was just possible to get down leaving after Mass at St Mary Mags; he sensibly said he could do Mary Mags as well and urged me to have a Sunday off. So I did. I realised that I owed it to Helen. She would have gone, and while she would have told me I shouldn’t leave my responsibilities here, if I’d had any sense I would have insisted on going with her. So I had to go.

It was fantastically difficult. I couldn’t look at the servers (dressed exactly as they used to be) because I just saw Helen. Serious catch in the throat when singing. So many memories from so long. I renewed acquaintance with someone I was very close to before Helen and I got together, and hadn’t spoken to in twenty-eight years. Many people there who remembered me, and who I remembered, even if not their names. I was thinking that one really does feel old in that situation, having started work in a church now closed, but then I thought of my boss there, Fr Alan, who, when he was a student, had been present at the consecration of St Andrew’s back in the early 60s, and was now there with us at its closing. It was very brave of the present congregation to decide to close, and to throw in their lot with St Thomas, especially those who, like Ian, have a lifetime’s memories there. Of course we can worship anywhere, and it is the quality of the human fellowship that is the most important feature, but we do all invest memories in buildings, even modern ones like St Andrew’s.

A FAMOUS SHRINE

I had the honour to be asked to preach at St Mary’s, Bourne Street, on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, last week. St Mary’s was built as a servants’ church, a little brick, gothic place behind Sloane Square tube station, but it was transformed by Fr Humphrey Whitby in the early twentieth century, who installed lots of baroque furnishings, many by Martin Travers, and attracted a smart congregation. The congregation remain smart in many ways. There was a surprisingly good turnout for a midweek evening, and it was all very well done. The choir sang a Mozart setting and a Bruckner motet, though there wasn’t enough congregational singing for my taste, just two hymns (one unknown) and the Creed to the Missa de Angelis. The ceremonial is what is described as traditional, and all justified by the most impeccable authorities, but of course as it was a modern service (albeit old language) which inevitably affects the ceremonial, you can’t really claim that this is the traditional rite. Fortunately, as a visiting preacher one has few opportunities to mess up the ceremonial. It all went on very smoothly around me. Everybody was very kind and welcoming, and we chatted merrily over a glass of wine afterwards. It was here that Helen and I came on the Sunday after she had received her diagnosis last May, when we wanted to be somewhere we weren’t known, but no-one remembered me from then. Why would they, since I wasn’t dressed as a priest on that occasion?  The people were very positive about the sermon when we had a glass of wine in the Presbytery afterwards, though I came away starving, as there were only tiny snacks, and it was too late to eat a proper meal.