Category: Blog Entry

It’s hard not to peep over the hedge sometimes to see what the neighbours are talking about.  Some are mooting  a sort of episcopal cull to match the diminishing numbers of clergy.

Which is interesting, of course because, if the CofE had as many bishops as we have per Piskie, as it were, they would have hundreds and hundreds of them.  And that in turn brings us back to that ever-pressing question, ‘So what do you do all day?’

I am still at heart the parish priest that I was for almost thirty years.  So I’m not a great fan of bishops as a class. I suspect that good parish priests will get on with it – others will flounder – and a bishop or fifty more or less won’t make a whole lot of difference.

And yet, as a paid up member of the Anglican Gamekeepers’ Association, I can see that we are no longer living in the relative simplicities of christendom.  No I know it wasn’t simple … but let that pass for a moment.  These are difficult times for the church and for clergy and people need more support than they did in the past.  I hope our clergy feel that in some kind of way I’m in the trenches with them – but you’ll have to ask them that yourself.

For what it’s worth, I’m more and more inclined to feel that there are only two things that matter much at present.  I’ll settle for leadership and holiness.  Any offers?

Spent three days this week with our students at TISEC – Theological Institute of the Scottish Episcopal Church.  This was their annual Summer School when they spend a week together in the monastery at Kinnoul.  That in itself is a heart-warming experience for me as it is a little outpost of ‘Ireland in Scotland’ complete with its Mrs Doyle person … ‘Would you not have a little more of the strawberries and cream, Father …?  Ah, go on …’

It’s good to get in amongst the people and take the measure of who they are, where they come from and what their hopes and dreams are.  Training for ministry has a tendency to become politicised in all churches and the SEC is no exception to that.  There is so much at stake – the training process shapes the future shape and character of ministry and has a big impact on the shape and character of the church itself.

I offered them ‘a bit of this and a bit of that’ in some short offerings at Evening Prayer.  It comes down to the ‘seductions of ministry’.  We all try to be devastatingly competent.  But committed and caring people tend to want to ‘fix’ things in people’s lives.  And of course the whole point of ministry is that it often deals with things which by definition cannot be fixed.  And then there is the insidious feeling that one might actually be good at the ministry business – summed up for me in the immortal lines:

Float like a butterfly/Sting like a bee

I am the greatest/God bless me

I was interested in the article by James Walters – ‘Instinctively conservative and bound by ritual’ – in this week’s Church Times.  He suggests that parliament faces some of the same questions as the Church in its struggle to reform itself.

He identifies four problems … of which the first has a certain interest for me at this moment.  It’s the ‘simplistic reduction of an institution to its leadership.’  Meaning the tendency to intensify blame on leaders when things go wrong and invest unrealistic hope in those who replace them.

He also refers to the resistance to reform even among those who are ostensibly most progressive.

I often ask myself the question, ‘I am bishop of a small diocese in a small church.  Why am I so busy?’  Some of the answer, I suppose, is that however small the diocese or church there is an irreducable minimum of work involved in the engagement with society, the wider church, the ecumenical context, etc.  And we attempt to have an intensity of contact and engagement which would not be possible elsewhere.  But still… the meetings, the time, the difficulty of visualising how things might be other than they are, the huge investment in things as they are …

When I was a parish priest, I used to attempt to measure how much time I spent actually in contact with people.  I was never happy with the answer.  So Walters suggests, ‘MP’s are incredibly busy, but do not actually do very much.’  Rather like Gilbert’s nice line, ‘The House of Peers throughout the years did nothing in particular and did it very well.’

A bit rushed these last few days – the juxtapositions of things become ever more interesting.  You may be interested in this interview which I did with my blogging friend, Mad Priest.

The end of the week brought two events which I always think of as ‘end of term’ around here.  The first was a meeting of our College of Bishops in Oban – ending with a dinner with spouses.  And in the middle a whale-watching expedition.  But of course it was pouring rain and whales don’t go out in the rain.  The area south of Oban where we were is a sort of paradise of little islands, tide races, exposed rocks .. the kind of beautiful place where cloud, sea and land are hard to tell apart.  No whales and very few seals either – but we did see a sea eagle and chick.

Meanwhile John our guide decided to introduce us to the famous Corryvrechan Whirlpool – second largest in the world.  This seemed a sensible option for a group of bishops – could we safely navigate currents and eddies – and avoid being sucked into the depths of Psalm 130?  I’m glad to report that the College of Bishops proved buoyant and stable.

Our other end-of-term event was Commemoration Day at Glenalmond College – we had to do the remembering bit twice because of the fire regulations.  I didn’t mind that because I like Cranmer’s English – rather like flying a plane before the invention of the autopilot.  You have to think about emphasis and the balance of sentences to a degree which today’s material doesn’t always require.  Couple of verses of Floreat Glenalmond and home … enlivened only by the fact that the Faithful Passat passed 180000 miles and celebrated by illuminating its oil pressure light.  But I dealt with that by topping it up at the Strawberry Shop.

Sermon preached at the Making of Deacons
St Columb’s Cathedral, Derry on 28th June, 2009

I’m delighted and honoured to have been asked to share in this service of ordination with you.  Thank you to Bishop Ken for inviting me – and of course I am really here as a part-time member of the congregation at Holy Trinity, Dunfanaghy.  It’s been a particular pleasure to spend time in retreat with Mark and Judi as they prepare for this deacon ministry of love and service.

Things sit side by side in my life and I think about what links them.  On Friday back in Scotland, I shared in the funeral of one of our best loved clergy.  Randal died suddenly in the early years of a well-spent retirement.  In his inner contentment and love, he was an icon of ministry for many of us.

Several people described how Randal asked people to do things.  He knew people.  He chose well.  He would appear smiling and discuss what needed to be done.  It wasn’t delegation.  It was call.  No pleading or cajoling – no Mrs Doyle saying, ‘Ye will, ye will ..’ – no time to consult the diary – no opportunity to say, ‘I’m honoured that you should think of me but ..  The conversation would reach a point at which Randal would simply say, ‘So David .. ‘  And that was it.  And because the love between Randal and his people was all mixed up with the love of God, people sort of realised that they had been called, they had responded and they were glad.

So in a few moments, Bishop Ken will put all sorts of complicated questions to Judi and Mark.  But what he is really saying in the name of the God who loves them and calls them is, ‘So Mark … ‘ and ‘So Judi’  And as they hear that call, they have already answered it long since.

The second thing which strikes me is this.  This service comes at the start of a new chapter of ministry and service for Mark and Judi.  It is a moment of calling, commitment, blessing.  It is wonderfully affirming.  This moment is for Mark and Judi – and also for those whose love has supported and encouraged them – and for all sorts of other people – perhaps work colleagues and friends who admire the commitment which Mark and Judi are making and want to be part of it too.  And at the end of life, Friday’s funeral was a wonderful thanksgiving for a rich and faithful ministry.  It’s just the bit in between which seems so difficult.

Why is that?  Because the society in which the priest, deacon or minister received automatic respect is long gone.  We meet a dismissive shrug .. or draw towards ourselves the hurts and anger of people who don’t know why they are angry with us …  even as they say religion is gutless and irrelevant.  And that happens because the gospel is not gutless.  It challenges us all – particularly those who minister.
In our time together, Mark, Judi and I have explored what the scripture readings say to us.  We looked at the awestruck humility of Isaiah – talented and committed people do not always find humility easy.  We looked at Paul’s challenge to be ‘not conformed to this world but transformed by the renewing of your mind that you may discern’  We saw that as the challenge to the kind of lively and engaged spirituality which will help the spiritual searchers of our age to discern meaning in God and the world.  And we felt the force of ‘We want you to do for us whatever we want’.  It’s the desire to enlist God in our service .. to cherry pick the gospel .. to offer the part for the whole .. to create small, sectarian Gods.  Yes ministry is difficult and personally challenging.  We can become as Rowan Williams said, ‘an unreliable friend’ – never content to be enlisted by person or cause.

As Mark and Judi enter this ‘in between’ period, we gather around them with our love and our prayers, seeking for them the inner strength and the wisdom to do God’s work in challenging times.  We pray that they may know the joy which comes to those who hear the call, ‘So Judi, So Mark’ and know that they have answered with their whole heart.

Archbishop Michael Ramsay’s Ordination Prayer

Lord, take my heart and break it:
break it not in the way I would like,
but in the way you know to be best.
And, because it is you who break it,
I will not be afraid,
for in your hands all is safe
and I am safe.

Lord take my heart and give to it your joy,
not in the ways I like,
but in the ways you know are best,
that your joy may be fulfilled in me.
So, dear Lord, I am ready to be your deacon,
ready to be your priest

I’m always glad to be involved in a Pre-Ordination Retreat and the Ordination Service. It’s a very ‘back to basics’ moment – very much in touch with Michael Ramsay’s ‘Christian Priest Today’ and all of that.

So we ended up in the rather magnificent Thornhill Centre, just outside Derry.  Quietness, food and comfort – and Sister Perpetua lent me her broadband connection.  The Ordination Service left me wondering – as I always do – about what it is that draws people in support of those being ordained.  All sorts of people, just wanting to be there and to give encouragement.  I haven’t got the hang of the WordPress upgrade [don’t start me] so I’ll put the sermon in the body text of a separate post.

Meanwhile I met one of the Derry clergy who had spent a summer placement with us in the parish – it must be about 15 years back.  He was still laughing at a searing pastoral encounter which he had in Seagoe.  I have no recollection of it.  It probably passed almost unnoticed in the ongoing soap opera of parish life.  He claims it went as follows.

He went to visit a family who lived in middle of a row of terraced cottages.  No access to the back garden other than through the house.  He knocked at the door.  No answer.  The window flew open and a voice asked in tones of thunder, ‘Are you from the Executive?’  [Glossary – Northern Ireland Housing Executive – pronounced as a staccato series of mangled vowels from the nether regions of the tonsils]  ‘No, I’m not’   ‘If you’re from the Executive you can’t come in because my back passage is all blocked up.’

We laid Randal to rest today in a beautiful little cemetery just up Glen Clova above his home.

These are the words I used:

Randal’s sudden death has been a great shock to all of us.  Valerie – I hope that you, Paul, Mark and Nick feel around you the warmth and the love of the family of the church which you and Randal have served so well.  I hope that you understand – what you know already – how special Randal was to all of us and how greatly admired and loved he was by his fellow clergy.

Randal slipped away.  It was somehow typical of him and his spirituality, the closeness of earth and heaven, no great void between them – more a thin veil – the finest gauze – of separation.  In my father’s house are many rooms.  If it were not so I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you.  Not just in his parting either.  When you met Randal – warm, contented and at the deepest level happy – you knew that you were being invited to come closer to the God he loved, served and trusted – a God of warmth, compassion and humour.

I shall always remember coming up to meet Randal not so long ago.  As with many of the best pastoral encounters, I arrived to talk about one thing but ended up talking about something else.  ‘Randal,’ I said.  ‘Some things are not altogether easy’  And Randal said ‘Aha’.  Which meant ‘Tell me some more.’  So in case he hadn’t got the point, I told him some more.  And he said, ‘Aha’ – which meant this time, ‘Might there be just a little bit of personal obsession in what you are telling me?’  So I told him some more and he said ‘Aha’ a few more times and strangely it all seemed to get itself rather more into balance.  I knew myself loved, cared for, ministered to and healed.

There’s mystery in that.  It’s called priesthood.  And Randal lived a classic picture of priesthood.  ‘Quid es tu, sacerdos? – What are you, O priest?’  ‘Nihil et omnia’ – nothing and all things.  Nothing of self and everything of God.  Our thanksgivings today are for that kind of priest.  People knew – people who found the unbearable bearable because Randal was around; people who somehow felt more rooted and together – better able to live with sadness and anger – because prayerful and faithful Randal was around.  To be with Randal in church was to be with somebody who was absorbed in the holy and invited you to enter the same place.  And that is priesthood.

And now he is in the place prepared.  He is where Jesus is.  Randal lives in its fullness the resurrection gospel of hope and triumph which he proclaimed in life and ministry.  He is with Jesus our great high priest from whom all priesthood comes.

What but he standeth at no earthly altar
Clothed in white vestments on that golden floor
Where love is perfect and no step can falter
God’s priest for evermore.

Impossible to be in Ireland these days without being aware of the severity of the economic crisis.  Poppy says simply that the problems of the Celtic Tiger are nothing to do with her.  She finds Blogstead Na Mara a congenial place.  Staff are always on hand.  She retreats under a duvet on an upper bunk – from where she can display a certain ‘hauteur’.  When visited there, she simply extends one paw and stretches the claws.

Meanwhile I just restrained myself from testing my belief that, whereas in Scotland one may listen to other people’s random conversations, in Ireland one simply joins in.  Man in front of me at the check-out in Dunnes Stores in Letterkenny.  Three sets of child’s canvas shoes [gutties or runners in the vernacular here] at 3 euro each in different colours.  Lengthy explanation about his child who insists on wearing odd shoes …

We’re mourning the loss of Randal MacAlister this week following his sudden death on Friday.

Clergy are notorious for being a bit hard on one another. But we all loved Randal. He served as Dean of our diocese until his retirement in 2006. He was quite literally getting into the stride of a well-spent retirement – hill-walking, Gaelic speaking, fiddle-playing – yet still willing to say ‘yes’ when called on for some ministry. Randal and Valerie were working hard on their beautiful house in Dykehead at the bottom of Glen Clova.

If there are balances to be found in the extraordinary way of life which is ministry, then Randal had worked them out. He was eirenic but he wasn’t soft. He radiated contentment and well-being but he gave himself unsparingly to ministry. He was holy but people found him accessible and they loved him.

He was extraordinarily kind and supportive to me, particularly when I was learning to acclimatise to a new situation. We had an extra bond. I knew where he came from in ministry. He had learnt his trade from Tom McGonigle, one of the great curate-trainers of the Church of Ireland, who used to say something like ‘149 curates and never a bad one – well maybe one’ Tom lived in retirement in my parish. I knew Tom and so, in a sense, I knew Randal.

Our thoughts and prayers are with Valerie and her family.

Enough of all this – time for a couple of days at Blogstead na Mara – in Donegal. Just time to prepare some material for an ordination retreat at the weekend – and a sermon. I had some stuff on ‘Five things I wish they had told me’ – but I can’t find it and can’t remember what the five were.

Poppy is recovering from long-haul travel and has retreated under a duvet on an upper bunk. She says it gives her a combination of height and warmth – both very important for cats. It’s like Fr Oliver Crilly’s wonderful description of cycling as offering a combination of solitariness and locomotion.

In case you were wondering about the state of the Irish economy, the Blogstead economic index is an authoritative measurement based solely on the asking price for the three new houses across the valley. Two years ago they were 615000 euro. Today they remain unsold at 275000 euro.

The din has faded a bit. But I thought I might share with you my favourite exchange from that crucible where church and media simmer together.

Journalist: I want to ask you about the Pope’s Encyclical

Primus: I haven’t read it

Journalist: He hasn’t published it yet

I am still waiting to use those two all-purpose/backed into a corner responses which I was taught in the US. Whatever the question, you say ‘Let me tell you what I am really passionate about’ or ‘Let me tell you a story …’