O God, from whom all holy desires, all good counsels, and all just works do proceed...

....Give unto thy servants that peace which the world cannot give; that our hearts may be set to obey thy commandments, and also that by thee, we, being defended from the fear of our enemies, may pass our time in rest and quietness; through the merits of Jesus Christ our Saviour. Amen.

Tonight I went to Evensong, a service which I am very familiar with, but have been away from for a very long time. Yet in the manner one meets an old friend one hasn't seen for a long time, I settled quickly back into the familiar routine, with its familiar words, it's familiar comforts.

The Second Collect has always resounded with me. It has brought me comfort in times of trial and 'earthed' my feelings of loss and aloneness.

Give unto thy servants that peace which the world cannot give

God's peace is reachable. It is as accessible to us in the world in 2011 as it was in 1662 through these words above.

At this service a certain priest, not so far away from me, preached on the subject of finding who God wants us to be, and not being defined by our possessions. This line then jumped out, over and over again. God gives us peace, a peace that this world can not and will not give.

I don't know about you...but when I am worried about something this panicky feeling is not just emotional it is physical. I shake, I sweat, I cannot settle. God's peace is the only way to calm this. To say "Yes God, help me, I need you!"

I love evensong, whether sung by some world-class choir in a cathedral, said alone, sung in church with 2 or 3 gathered together, I would still love the essence of evensong. God's people gathered in penitence and praise.

On this day in 1994

On the 12th March 1994 the first women were ordained priests in the Church of England.

I was a mere 13 years old, a young female Christian for whom this news was joyous! I was confirmed at the tender age of 10 and took a full part in the life of the church. I was by this point, a member of the church choir, I had read lessons, and I had just started to lead intercessions under Dad's watchful gaze.

There had been a Deaconess in one of Dad's previous parishes, but I was too young to realise that these women were anything other than a usual part of parishes all over the country, or indeed to recognise the lack of ordained ministry for women.

By 1995, I was attending my first Eucharist celebrated by a woman. This woman was the Anglican chaplain at the Royal Berks Hospital, her husband was the Methodist chaplain. Dad had been invited to her first Eucharist and Mum and I also attended.

It was a wonderful occasion in that little college chapel. I felt the hairs on my back stand on end as she raised the Host during the consecration. I felt tears in my eyes as she gave us God's blessing. Words cannot fully explain how this felt for me, as a teenage girl, to be part of a Eucharist celebrated by a woman for the very first time, I cannot ever imagine how that would feel for the lady who presided.

In the car on the way home Dad turned to me and said "Now you could be a priest."

I have discovered today to my great joy that one of the ladies who was ordained on that glorious day in 1994 baptised our son in 2008. She is just one of the many wonderful priests, I have had the privilege to meet.  Male/Female the great ones are really great! God has given all these wonderful people a calling, male or female and I for one am so glad that they are all able to live out that calling within the Church of England.

Mementos, Memories, and Memorials,

In between playing with lego, playdough and dinosaurs, I have been sorting through drawers and cupboards. As you are already no doubt aware, tidiness is not my strong point. So therefore in this house there are lots of drawers and cupboards filled with all manner of unclassified paperwork, bit of broken toy for fixing, odd crayons, and buttons etc.

The tidying all goes well until I come across something which for happy or sad reasons makes me stop in my tracks, sit down, and peruse it. By the time I am back on track, I have usually forgotten where I have got to, and the whole cycle starts again.

This has happened twice so far this week. The first occasion was Sunday night, when i was searching through my bedside cabinet for a vital piece of paperwork (not the most logical place to keep it and it has now been moved!). I found all my Dad's licences from the churches to which he served during his ministry. I knew I had them somewhere, certain things came into my possession after Dad died because we as a family couldn't bear to throw them away. I sat down and read through them one after the other, reminiscing about the moves, the licensing service, who had been staying with us at the time, how young I was etc etc. There were a couple of service booklets in the pile including the service to celebrate Dad's 25th Anniversary of Ordination, in later service books as in this one, one hymn was always a part of each service. The great Wesley number "And can it be". It was always deeply moving for us all as a family, the verse which concludes "My chains fell off my heart was free, I rose went forth and followed thee" spoke clearly to Dad. They were an opportunity to leave behind the old, and move into new and exciting ministerial experiences, following God's call and were therefore a rousing end to a final service in a parish or a declaration of Dad's commitment to following Christ into his new parish at the licensing service.

When Dad died there was no question of the hymns for his Requiem. Thine be the Glory, Sweet Sacrament Divine, and And Can it Be. This time the verse to note was the last one:

No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in him, is mine;
alive in him, my living Head,
and clothed in righteousness divine,
bold I approach th' eternal throne,
and claim the crown, through Christ my own.
Bold I approach th' eternal throne,
and claim the crown, through Christ my own.

The wonderful Eulogy given by a dear friend of my parents, included a piece from the book Dad had been writing at the time of his death.

When my father died in 1973, I selected the memorial cards and chose the verse beginning 'I am the Resurrection and the life...' I did not pick this verse in a sentimental comforting way: I knew my father was with the Lord. I selected it as a statement of belief for both of us. Each of us shares in Jesus' resurrection in two ways - firstly in a sacramental way through Baptism and the Eucharist and secondly through the free action of ours which welcomes God's graciousness. We are spurred on and energised by God's Spirit towards the final fulfilment. However broken and hurt we may be God's healing is available for us, first in this world and ultimately in the next. 

On this occasion the find was a happy one, and I am grateful for my lack of order because it gives me the chance to stumble upon these memories in a natural and organic kind of way. This last week a dear friend died suddenly and left his wife of 50 years bereft, shocked and overwhelmed with grief. So this exercise, as well as drawing my mind back to my dear Dad has also given me the opportunity to stop and pray, for the soul of this departed friend and for God's comfort for his wife and family in their grief. Also to pray for all who grieve for those they love but see no longer in this life.

Faithful God,
Lord of all creation,
You desire that nothing redeemed by your Son
Will ever be lost,
Comfort those who grieve,
Grant eternal rest to the faithful departed,
May they rest in peace.
Amen

On duty?

On Saturdays, once the Curate has been up to church to say Morning Prayer he is unofficially ours. I say unofficially because it is not his day off, and occasionally there are duties to attend to on a Saturday which need to be prioritised but most of the time he is around.

Time to spend with our little family. Lego, mammoth train sets and dog walks are the order of the day. What is generally referred to as "chilling".

As it is unofficial time, should a trip to the supermarket be required, the collar goes back on and the Curate is seen out in his community in his "work clothes". The outward sign that should he be required he is available for the parish.

For this reason (and many others that I wont ramble on about now) I agree with David Cloake. http://vernacularcurate.blogspot.com/2011/02/public-theology.html My Curate is at home most of the time on a Saturday but he is still a priest, he is still 'on duty' and when he is out the collar publicly declares this - and rightly so.

Ordinariate - A personal viewpoint

I have read many insightful blogs on the subject in the last few weeks, and  feel compelled to write my piece. If it is not completely obvious by now, I am no theologian. I could laugh at the absurdity of the situation (and have) but I have also shed a tear. This is all a bit too close to home for me you see...

In 1978 a young Roman Catholic priest went to his bishop with a dilemma, or rather a decision in this case. He had met a woman whom he knew to be his soul mate, and so not wishing to break his ordination vows he asked to leave the priesthood so that he may be free to marry her. It was an agonising decision, he had felt a strong and persistent calling to the priesthood since childhood and had angered his mother when he followed God's call, and now he was to give it all away for a woman who had captured his heart.

The man was encouraged to attend a specific retreat centre which helped priests who were 'wayward' in all sorts of ways, and was made to feel as if he was committing a grave and dire sin by falling in love with this woman. He refused the retreat and left with a letter from his Bishop assuring him that neither he nor his fiancee (also a practising Roman Catholic) would be welcome in any RC church in his diocese and beyond. The man felt deeply hurt and saddened, but after they were married, he was encouraged by friends to try a church which would welcome them and be a catholic home within the Church of England. It was during this time that their children were born and that the man felt that he still had such a calling from God to ordained ministry that he wished to serve Him in the Church of England.

This couple are my parents. That committed and sincere priest my late Father who served 20 years in the priesthood and is a priest forever.

Dad had a peer in the RC priesthood. A person he held dear, who committed suicide after being treated in the same sort of centre that my Dad was recommended to attend. Falling in love is apparently a 'sexual problem' which needs 'treatment' and the treatment this man (whom I will not name) received led to his depression and subsequent suicide.

So you can see why I find it very difficult to accept that the Roman Catholic church have received with open arms priests who are married, whilst continuing to deny priests of Rome the opportunity to marry, should they so wish.

I feel that celibacy can be a great tool and benefit for those who feel truly called to it. However I do not believe that to be a priest in God's church one needs to be celibate or male for that matter! (That's a whole other blog post, although interesting to note that my Dad was in favour of the ordination of women.)

For me this is the greatest absurdity in a whole heap of absurdity.