Features (May 2009)

Talking Vocations

Audrey Elkington, Diocesan Director of Ordinands

It is right and proper that we are rediscovering the importance of lay involvement in the life of the Church, in the Church’s mission and ministry and witness. (If you need any convincing, read Robin Greenwood’s latest book “Parish Priests: For the Sake of the Kingdom”). It is also right and proper that the Church of England is discovering new and more flexible ways for the exercising of ordained ministry. Non-stipendiary clergy, ministers-in-secular-employment, house-for-duty, ordained-local-ministers…….. These have all moved us away from thinking about the one vicar looking after the one church, and opened up ways in which ordained ministry can be expressed in the world, and also opened up the range of people who can offer for ordained ministry. All these changes are good and fruitful.

But the CofE still needs people who are willing and able to commit themselves to offer as stipendiary ministers. We need people who are willing to make the sacrifice of giving up opportunities for career advancement and of earning not insignificant sums. We need people who are willing to make the sacrifice of living in the high-visibility of vicarages, putting themselves at the disposal of the Church. We need people who are able to offer their working lives, their gifts and skills, their abilities and their potential. We need people who can give of themselves in order to lead local churches, to foster the gifts of others, to enable and encourage the ministry of the whole church. We still need stipendiary clergy.

I have asked four people in their first post as ‘vicar’ to reflect on their experience of God’s call in their life. To reflect on the way in which they heard that call, how they responded to it, and where it has brought them. You will see that each account is very different. There is no set mould into which one has to fit to offer for stipendiary ministry. To hear God’s call and to be willing to respond are the most important ingredients.

The 3rd May this year (Easter 4) is Vocations Sunday. It is a chance for us to think, and pray, and explore under God, to be open to the possibility of God’s call in our lives and the lives of those around us.

Judith Grieve, Woodhorn with Newbiggin

Paul’s Epiphany, when he was blinded by a light that did not show him where to go but only where NOT to go, sent him in completely the opposite direction—from zealously persecuting the followers of Jesus to joining them and then adding to their number immeasurably. I on the other hand, was merely washing the dishes when that light blinded me.

Like Paul my eyes were open but I could see nothing. I only knew that my response must be now or never, and that I needed help to sort out what that response should be. Paul went off to Ananias who had strong reservations about this troublesome person full of blind enthusiasm, but who nevertheless calmed him down, sorted him out and set him off on the right road. My bemused vicar, no doubt sharing many of Ananias’ reservations, did the same for me.

”Vocation “; “Discernment”; ”Discipleship” and “Ordination”, are words which take on a whole new range of meanings once you begin this process. Sorting out how they apply to you takes time - a lifetime - and wise counsel along the way.

By the time I had spent three years training on the North East Ordination Course I was much clearer about who I was and where I was going. I would continue teaching and serve the Parish of Choppington as NSM curate in permanent deacon’s orders……....All sorted out! (Or so I thought). But God moves in mysterious ways, and I have now been vicar of Newbiggin-by-the sea since 1999.

I came here in 1998, still non-stipendiary, to help out during a short interregnum. Once again I did not see what lay ahead of me, but here I still am, and I feel as if I am on some sort of great adventure. To live in a vicarage is sometimes perceived as being rather isolating, but I have never found that to be the case. The stream of visitors come not only with their problems but also with their good news, their thanks and their surprises. Some even come looking for Ananias.
Committed church attendance might be less popular now than a couple of generations ago but we still sustain five weekly services and people are generally more confident now about taking part in and even leading the worship. In many ways, however, this is the tip of the iceberg, the round of various groups; funerals, baptisms, weddings, school visits and community events gives boundless opportunities to open the Gospels to people in a language they can understand because it is relevant to them in their own setting.

The even bigger picture though is the Kingdom of God. Ordained ministry is about being a daily visible active reminder that this Kingdom encompasses all our petty little parish kingdoms, and exists to give all its citizens, not just those who come to church regularly, a sense that they have opportunities and responsibilities too.

I have no idea where I will be in 10 years time, but I am looking forward to finding out, and I know I will be in good company.

John Park, Bothal and Pegswood with Longhirst

I did not expect to find myself in this line of work and never thought about wearing a cassock or a collar.

For 20 years teaching was my vocation, but that began to change in July 1998 when we attended the so called ‘family week’ of the famous Keswick Convention. It happened on the Tuesday. At the morning bible study I was sitting with hundreds of people in the Convention tent. The subject that day was St. Paul’s Second Letter to Timothy, chapter two. Ten minutes gone and all was well, the speaker was both interesting and entertaining until he reached verse 2, ‘… the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others.’ (NIV) I remember him making a simple remark about the Church today needing men and that was it. I found myself suddenly aware of a call to change direction, to investigate working for the Church full time and then of being strangely unperturbed and irrationally at home with the idea, though I did leave the proceedings wondering how I would break the news to my wife.

Jane heard the talk elsewhere and when we met up afterwards I explained what had happened. ‘Yes I know.’ she said. ‘It was that verse about the Church needing men wasn’t it?’ We agreed this had to be taken seriously, and after attending a ‘Vocations Morning’ at Shieldfield the following September, I let my name go forward for selection with the blessing of our local church. Jane too came away from Shieldfield with a strong sense that we were being called as a family.

Having had my vocation tested by the Church, I taught for another year to see if feelings would change. They didn’t. Eventually, after two years of writing essays at Cranmer Hall in Durham we came to Morpeth where I worked as curate. Now we live in Pegswood, and Jane shares in the ministry having been licensed as Reader last year.

The smoothness with which it all happened should not disguise the great upheaval of moving home several times, of changing children’s schools and the personal sense of dislocation and loss incumbent on changing course in mid life and leaving behind a rewarding and useful profession, which I still miss. When the unease and regrets crowded in, as they inevitably did, it was important to remember those mornings at Keswick and Shieldfield and who it was who was calling.

What has this brought? I enjoy the challenge and responsibility of keeping the Christian faith alive, especially among children, most of whom are being brought up in complete ignorance of it. I get a buzz out of encouraging the faithful through sermons, talks and study groups, that’s the teacher in me. The close involvement with local families, especially in funeral ministry, has been more rewarding than I ever imagined. The future? I don’t think too far ahead because I have learned through this and other experiences that life can be turned completely on its head in the twinkling of an eye. What’s important is to be faithful and responsive to the call of Jesus in the here and now.

Sue Faulkner, St. Silas, Byker

I came to faith as a teenager through the influence of my RE teacher and through reading Luke's Gospel. I was already a member of my local branch of CND and was quite the passionate political activist supporting the miners in their strike and other socialist causes. This was set against the backdrop of living in a middle-class and very Tory suburb of London and attending a grammar school during the Thatcher years, so to say I was somewhat unusual is probably an understatement. I call myself an accidental Anglican as my approach to finding a church to attend was to get the local A- Z out and visit all the little crosses marked on it each Sunday. I tried several denominations such as Baptist, Methodist, Catholic and a high church Anglican, which is where I settled. Having not been baptised as a child I was baptised and confirmed when I was 15yrs old. I guess I should add at this point that I also look somewhat unusual as I was - and at heart still am - a Goth. My friends at that early church now love to introduce me to people saying , this is Sue she was a Goth, now she's a priest! I was very lucky to find a church that accepted me just as I was - precocious, passionate, opinionated and Goth. One of the important features of this church was a regular pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our lady of Walsingham. On one such trip when I was 17yrs old I stood alone praying in the chapel next to the Holy House. All at once I had a clear image of myself looking like a priest and a strong sense of the word "Yes". Needless to say I was a little freaked by this and had the convenient excuse to actively ignore it as at that time the C of E was not ordaining women priests.

I remember veryclearly the church of England taking the vote to ordain women priests. I had expected to be overjoyed at this however I was surprised that my reaction was to be really quite upset. My excuse for ignoring my calling had been swept away. I began what I would call a bargaining process with God, you can have this bit of my life and I will have this other bit, until the God bit got too big to ignore. I was getting more and more involved at my local church and soon the sense of calling was too much to ignore any more. However not to give in too easily I first spoke to a very close friends who was really quite opposed to the church. I guess I thought, I'll tell him and he'll tell me not to be so stupid and then I can get on with my life. However after my big announcement to him he actually said "Of course that's what you're supposed to be doing!". I realised it was about time I spoke to my vicar. so one Sunday morning I was brave enough to ask to see him. Off I went and sat in the vicarage, all nervous with what I considered quite a weird idea. I said I felt I might be being called to some kind of ministry maybe ordained ministry. My vicar just said: " I am so glad. I told the Bishop this was what you were coming to see me about" Was I the last person to realise ? The rest, so to speak, is history.

Ian Flintoft, St. Columba, North Gosforth,

This calling is so much more than a job, but I am always telling people that it is the best job in the world, and it is a privilege for me to be able to exercise full-time stipendiary ministry.

St Teresa of Avila, in a now famous reflection, tells us that ours are the hands with which Christ blesses his people, and I often think about my vocation as a priest in terms of what I do with those hands.

These are hands with which Christ blesses his people: with these hands the priest blesses couples who are joined together in marriage, commends the dead to their maker and redeemer, pours water on those who are being baptized, blesses congregations made up of those he or she loves and those it is sometimes difficult to love.

But not just that. They are hands which hold other hands - the hands of the dying, to reassure them that someone is with them, the hands of the lost whilst they try to find their way, hands which hold and are held by the hands of fellow pilgrims.

They are hands that find themselves doing things that are out of character for the priest of whom they are a part, like leading the action songs at Messy Church, perhaps. They are hands that are in the sink washing up, whilst an important conversation is going on above them.

They are hands which hold Christ, in the sacrament of the Eucharist, which hold Christ in the Scriptures. They are hands which reach out to those in need, to those who feel themselves estranged, or untouchable.

Above all, perhaps, they are hands which are often empty, empty in the face of despair and suffering, empty in the face of anger or difficult questions. They are hands which are empty, but open to receive and be filled by the abundant grace of God at work in the world.

And my experience of stipendiary ministry has been very much one of being confronted by the abundant grace of God at work in the Church. I believe very strongly in the vocation of the Church of England to make Christ known in the world, and I have seen the capacity of churches of all traditions to grow, given the right conditions.

It is a privilege to exercise stipendiary ministry in God’s Church - to try, in the words of Michael Ramsey, to display that total response to Christ to which all members of the Church are pledged, to enable the ministry of the whole Body, and to involve the whole Church in our activity. And it is a humbling honour to stand, again in Michael Ramsey’s words, ‘daily with God with the people on your heart’ and daily with His people with God in your heart.

It is a place and a vocation that is filled with promise, as well as challenge, for the future. Might God be calling you to that place?

News from Papua New Guinea

What a dedication day we had for our new diocesan chapel in Port Moresby! Dawning bright and clear and the chapel garlanded with palm leaves and flowers, a huge marquee sprouted in the ‘field’ next to it filled with Anglicare’s stacking chairs and tables.

People from all the city parishes started arriving, put food to share on the tables and settled under the peripheral shady trees. Diocesan clergy robed in the Anglicare buildings opposite, while dancers got into traditional dress. By 10am the official guests were waiting in the marquee and the field was full of worshippers. The sound of a conch shell being blown started off a procession led by Oro Province dancers singing and drumming. Then servers, clergy, the Archbishop who happened to be passing through Port Moresby that weekend) complete with traditionally dressed cope bearers, and lastly Peter crossed the field to the chapel, to circle round it blessing it before finally entering followed by the invited guests (there was seating inside for only 70, but the low garden walls around made for more.) Costumed Sunday School dancers from the PNG Defence Force Barracks brought up a new bible to put on the lectern while New Guinea Islanders brought the cloth, candles and flowers for the altar. Melanesian and Franciscan Brothers led the intercessions, Mothers’ Union members brought up the bread and wine, and costumed Highlands women presented the collection. The Oro dancers reappeared to lead the recessional outside at the end. Then, in usual PNG fashion, there were speeches and food, entertainments and impromptu dancing – until at 2.30pm a heavy downpour concluded the official proceedings, although many people stayed on in the marquee enjoying themselves for the rest of the day.

Four of the invited guests, including Fr Lyndon Sulzberger, came from Christ Church North Adelaide, a parish which gave a donation for the chapel. They remained with us for a further few days during which we showed them some more of Port Moresby – including the huge Second World War cemetery of mainly Australian soldiers killed fighting PNG’s Japanese invaders, and the 6 Mile Settlement project run by Mothers’ Union members to care for HIV/AIDS orphans. It is personal encounters like this which inspire visitors to cement valuable relationships with the Anglican Church here, and which help to dispel the bad press that PNG sometimes gets.

Peter and Sue Ramsden