On this day

Fifty years ago today I was ordained priest by Archbishop Glyn Simon in Llandaff Cathedral. I often think about that moment, kneeling under Epstein's glorious 'Majestas' sculpture. I see his masterwork, as being a Son of Man image, given the Christ figure has no wounds. When he was Dean of Llandaff after the war he Dean Glyn was the driving force of Cathedral restoration after bomb damage, and the installation of the 'Majestas' was part of that, and controversial from the start. It looks as fresh and engaging today as it did when I first saw it as a kid sixty years ago. It still says to me 'And who is this man?'

I was in awe of +Glyn when I met him as an undergraduate in Bristol. His son Nick was in the same hall of residence as I was, and on an occasion when +Glyn visited, I invited him and his to tea in my room. He was a quiet scholarly mild mannered man. I'm not sure if at that time I was thinking about ordination, but the fact that he accepted my invitation made an impression on me. It was many years later I discovered that in his early career he had been Warden of Church Hostel in Bangor, a student residence for theologians and ordinands. Being at ease with students came naturally to him.

He was a year away from retirement at the time of my ordination, and suffering from Parkinson's disease. Typically flippant and tasteless in their irreverent banter, some ordinands speculated about whether the Holy Spirit would 'take' to the candidate from trembling hands. Some bizarre understandings of the grace of Holy Orders as a kind of magical ritual contagion knocked around in those days. It didn't reflect what was learned at College, but acquired on the way there from eccentric traditionalists.

We started the day with our usual Saturday pancake breakfast. I finished the sermon and went to the shops before cooking lunch, an experiment with stuffed peppers for me and a making veggie burgers for Clare, using couscous and soya mince. A learning experience. I did two shorter walks in the afternoon to vary my activity pattern to mitigate the problem of painful feet after a long walk. I'm need to insert more rest into my physical activity I think, being a bit fragile at the moment with unresolved blood pressure and wound infection concerns. Accepting that I'm more vulnerable these days is very hard. I wish I was fifty years younger, without the inexperience and lack of confidence of course!

It struck me that +Glyn's trembling hands and voice were a sign of vulnerability in a person of authority and spiritual leadership in the Welsh Church. That give a senses of perspective, reminding those who are in awe of power that Christ's strength is perfected in our weakness. Tomorrow's sermon is going to be about ordination as making space for a person to lead and serve the community, and in that space, to make space for others to be and become truly themselves. 

I've often wondered how I was found acceptable for ordination when I was just enthusiastic but lacking in certainty, confidence, and competence as well it seems to me. It's taken a long time to understand that others made space for me to be and become myself in ministry. It's what's happening at the heart of all the sacramental actions of the church. The Holy Spirit is the Comforter - the Hebrew word for 'comfort' means to make space for others. It's what it means to be Church for others. I'm sad and ashamed that so often the Church falls short in something as simple as this.

Unfinished business

I went to St John's for the Eucharist this morning. After the service Emma asked if I'd be willing to celebrate next Thursday. Fr Benedict will be there in support, to ensure that I get the new health and safety protocols correct. It'll be the first time since the eighth of March, my first and only Sunday in Ibiza to lead public worship. She also asked if I'd be willing to offer half a dozen written reflections for the St Catherine's Facebook page. On both counts, I was delighted to be asked.

I haven't actively sought to re-insert myself into locum duties locally since my return, being content to be in the congregation and pray, and willing to serve if  asked. In my fiftieth year of active ministry, you might think that I'd miss leading worship and preaching, but I've had no liturgical withdrawal symptoms. Perhaps the experience of being without the perpetual duty of gathering with others for sacramental worship for twenty weeks, having to rely on prayer in solitude has been an unexpected source of grace, teaching me to be less pro-active and more able to wait receptively on God.

As it's the first opportunity I've had to think ahead, I felt emboldened to ask if I could preside at the Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's the weekend of the golden jubilee of my ordination to the priesthood. Last year the congregation made a right fuss of me when I celebrated the start of my public ministry as an ordained deacon. I wasn't thinking of a big celebration for my priesting anniversary. Lots of clergy treat this as more important. I've always rebelled against this. 

I presided at Mass for the first time at the Parish Communion in St Andrew's Penyrheol, a routine Sunday gathering, serving the congregation and God (hopefully) in my new role, representing priesthood a praying community exercises. The public sees any ordained minister of religion as an ambassador of the church, without distinguishing a deacon from a priest. Bishops are recognisable, distinctive because of their historic social status. Accepting the mantle of priesthood is a gift that has meant a lot to me, because of the responsibility it confers to enable a community of worshippers to be more truly itself, with a recognised person trusted to gather, unite and hopefully inspire them in mission.

All ministries are or should be about sharing the Gospel and the teaching of Jesus, making sense of it in every way possible, to win people over to faith in God. That's the reason and purpose for which I was ordained. Mission of one kind or another has been the driving force in my life for the past fifty years, and it seems I'm still learning about its many dimensions as my life is heading towards its conclusion. Regardless of my life's work and its strivings, it'll remain as unfinished business until the end of time. 

After church I popped into Tesco's for some wine. The store's shelving layout is being totally rearranged. It's happened in the past week since I was last in there, and is still a work in progress. When I came out it was pouring with rain, and I got quite wet walking home, even though it was easing off by then. Later in the afternoon, the clouds parted and the sun came and went. It was dry long enough for me to walk in the park before supper however.

Later we watched episodes of 'Call the Midwife' together, a blockbuster series from eight years ago, set in the East End of London sixty years ago. It's drama with a feel-good factor, though not without its tragedies and sorrows. It faithfully portrays the social issues and challenges of that era in an authentic looking environment and makes good watching for people our age who remember those days.

An unforeseen ending to ministry

The sky was overcast again when woke up at first light. I couldn't get back to sleep as I usually do. Instead of dozing, I lay awake, the impact of last night's conversation with Rufus slowly dawning on me. To all intents and purposes, after fifty years of public ministry, officiating at church services as a stipendiary cleric for forty years and then as a volunteer for ten came to an end on March 8th in Ibiza. No matter how fit and well I may be and able to fill in when others need to be absent, I'm now classed as elderly and vulnerable. As long as the covid-19 crisis lasts, I'll be out of action. 

Unless there's a global roll-out of means to prevent and cure this virus, I don't see an end to this for several years to come, years in which the public face of the church will change radically. The more churches have to close and ministries contract, the less need there'll be for aged clerics to plug gaps. Like the rest of the faithful, it'll be a matter for us of finding ways and places where we can meet for common prayer and worship.

Strangely, I don't yet feel sad about it. I'll miss preaching however more than presiding. I'm comfortable enough inhabiting the priestly role. It nurtured my years of full time ministry, but now I'm more blessed by being on the receiving end, responding rather than leading, meditating rather than voicing the prayer of the people.

As I've got older I've relaxed and feel I'm more myself in preaching the Word. Who knows if it'll be possible in future ever again? Will there be an audience for anything more than a brief homily, so that people aren't detained for too long in church? Will every future homily need to be no longer than the BBC's 'Thought for the Day'? (3mins) or at best 'A point of view'? or 'The Archers' much maligned monologues? (13mins) 

Much has been made of the reduction in people's attention span in the era of high speed electronic communications, well before we had covid-19 to make us anxious about the length of time we can risk spending in public gatherings with others not of our household. This doesn't take into account the immersive experience of theatre performances, story-telling or opera, which are able to retain the attention of an audience for a much longer time. Re-launching these activities safely is a hot topic currently given concern about preservation of artistic culture.

Traditional forms of liturgy are also a performing art, calling for a social environment of worship and fellowship. The church would lose its ability to preach and teach the Gospel in depth without them. A radical re-think of the way we do everything in public worship is necessary, but we need to be mindful of what we risk losing in the act of reform.

Karl Rahner half a century ago said of the life of faith; "In the days ahead you will either be a mystic or nothing at all." Christian mysticism, it seems to me relies on the depth of relationship with nature, immersion in the story which scripture tells, the tradition of prayer and worship, and the experience of love in community. All point to the Beyond in our midst, the ground of our being. There's nothing abstract about it, our relationships with God and with each other are inseparable.

When I was at St Mike's I remember a fellow student who was have real trouble getting to grips with a rational analytical attitude to scripture. He wasn't an ideological fundamentalist, but found it hard to reconcile such cool intellectual rigour with his spiritual life. "How can I pray?" I remember him saying, "If I am obliged to think like this all the time." We weren't doing much holistic thinking back in those days, but he did find his way out of the maze eventually, helped by engaging with the mystical writings of Christian saints. They weren't always easy to understand, but got you pointed heavenwards, and that was all that mattered.

Another St Matthew's day remembered

This morning, drove into Malaga to celebrate the midweek Eucharist in honour of St Matthew the Apostle, thankful that the traffic was light. I opened the church and got everything ready, welcomed a couple of Spanish visitors as best I could in Spanish, and then waited for a congregation to arrive. just as I was due to start, Rosella came and saved me from disappointment, bless her.

This day is the 46th anniversary of the first time I presided at a celebration of the Eucharist at the Parish Communion in St Andrew's Penyrheol Caerphilly, where I served my first curacy. It's hard to recall that first occasion well. I think my father came along, not sure about my mother. Neither of them were really well at the time and within a couple of years, both would be dead. It was a normal parochial service, rather than a solemn celebration with all attention on cheering on a new priest. That was what I wanted, simply to take my place in the ranks of those who serve God's people as priests to their communities.

For me, beginning priestly ministry at a Parish Eucharist was 'special' enough as an expression of priesthood. Being given the trust of people, inside and outside the church, to help them find a voice for themselves in God's presence, in an era when others were  rejecting the church and distrusting its ministers, was a humbling privilege and responsibility. It still is. The older I get, the more I appreciate the privilege granted, in a world where the faith I represent occupies such an uncertain place in the guidance of humankind.

I went for another two hour walk this afternoon, eastwards this time, to Playa del Rubio, the far side of Benagalbón from Rincon. Conservation measures are in place on this stretch of beach to protect the unique plant life that grows at the point where the sand gives way to the footpath. Some sections are fenced off, and contain indigenous flowers and grasses. 

Notably along this beach, I saw half a dozen swallows and heard a flock of starlings whistling and chattering in a large tree. There are houses with gardens all along this stretch. More greenery means more insects for food, and additional bird species. I've seen fewer swallows and starlings in Rincon, as it's more built up along the shoreline the habitats are less varied. Gulls, sparrows, pigeons and parakeets, are the most frequently visible species, plus the pair of blackbirds in the garden below, this apartment.