You might well ask. According to this blog, I’ve done nothing but amble about pretending to exercise this month, but that’s not quite true. Lots is going on, I just don’t quite know where to start…so I shall start in the middle.
I had a great day up at Gladstone’s Library for a seminar as part of my D.Min. I can’t recommend the place highly enough, it’s comfortable and somehow so mellow. I can feel my shoulders relax just walking through the door, I just wish it were closer. And my rubbish essay got a good trouncing, as it deserved, and looks much better as two beginnings of two essays on completely different topics.
The journey back from Gladstone’s wasn’t so cheerful, as I was coming to back to do the funeral of one of our church magazine editors. Ministers of some congregations only do funerals of people they know, for me it is rare to know the person, and some of the family and friends. This funeral was a real team effort, with Training Incumbent playing the organ as specially requested, our Reader on reading duty, and me leading, with tributes from various family members. It was one of those where I couldn’t really write what I wanted to say because I needed to hear what everyone else said, so I could avoid repetition, but it all came together remarkably well on the day. I love it when God shows up at a funeral (and God always shows up).
There’s been lots of curfuffle and bluster about the Church of England and its stance on gay marriage, and on gay clergy. If my beloved institution would concentrate a bit more on shouting about the disgrace of child poverty, food banks and people with no shelter, and spend some time proclaiming the love of God for all of God’s children each made in God’s image, by thought, word and deed, that would be good. And since I am one small part of the institution, that’s what I shall carry on doing, along with the majority of Christians I meet face to face and on line. Oh, and if you aren’t allowed to wear a cross to work, don’t worry. God knows exactly who you are, with or without rings, necklaces and other accoutrements, and God is confident you’ll act accordingly.
Elsewhere, I am the proud and confident wearer of varifocals, and have decided there may be life left in me yet. I always promised I’d enter my prime at 45 years old, and stay in my prime until I was about 75, then turn into an opinionated old crone. You may feel I’ve muddled the stages somewhat, but since I’m not in either of them yet, I reserve the right to keep trying them on for size.
Several people have asked me recently, for various reasons, what it’s really like being a full time curate in the Church of England. I’m finding it harder and harder to come up with an answer of more than thee words and less than three pages, so that might be the subject of my next blog ramble……