Holding on. Lightly

It seems fitting that it's Robert Powell, aka Jesus (without the beard) from Roman Polanski's Jesus of Nazareth, that is holding on for dear life to the hands of Big Ben, Saviour-like, in the 1989 version of John' Buchan's The Thirty Nine Steps.

Because holding onto things has strong resonances in the Christian tradition.

I'm no fan of John Lennon's Imagine: 'Imagine there's no heaven, above us only sky...imagine there's no countries...nothing to kill or die for...no religion too'. 

No justice or passion? People floating around in white drapes saying 'peace' when there is no peace? No thanks.

In contrast, Christians are encouraged to 'Hold fast to what is good' (Thessalonians) and to hold on tenaciously when things are tough. But holding on can also be negative. Holding onto people who need to be let go of; holding onto memories which need healing; holding grudges. Perhaps it's a question of what to hold tightly and what to hold lightly.

Holding on tightly or lightly is a conundrum for the selection process in the Church of England, but also for anyone who's ever needed a bit of divine guidance (you know, that nudging, that prompting, that hunch). 

Here's the conundrum: You think God might be calling you to do something. You approach your parish priest and they listen to you stumbling through a badly articulated explanation of a feeling, that might be a hunch, that might be a 'calling', say to Ordination, then they tell you to go away 'and when you're sure, come back and see me.'

But when will you be sure? Months, even years down the line, when you have started to articulate this feeling/hunch/nudge a bit more fully, they send you off to a BAP (Bishops' Advisory Panel) where for three days you are watched, assessed and 'interviewed' by various CofE 'experts', lay and ordained, to see if they too can 'discern' a calling from God.

The advice you are given by those preparing you for the BAP is 'act naturally'. Don't come across too sure. But not too unsure either. Great. No problem. 

On one level you must hold onto this sense of calling very lightly because if you don't, you're in for a tremendous disappointment when that 'sorry, it's a no' phone call comes through. Ideally you want to respond with a happy shrug and the words 'ah, no worries, I'll go back to teaching. Thanks. Byeeeee'. At the same time, how can you not hold tightly onto something that's so potentially life changing if, as it turns out, you had the right, as opposed to the wrong, end of the stick.

I had to go and see the Principal in my second year of Theological College. Turns out I was right about the original calling but I'd had a further hunch about my vocation and now wished to slant my training towards 'Pioneer Ministry', which was the new sexy at the time. By now I knew the kind of words to use: 'I've had time to reflect....just want to be obedient...'

The Principal had the nicest study in Christendom. The Principal was wise. The Principal was a good listener. He listened to my articulating how I felt drawn to be a Pioneer Minister. He said of my conviction: 'I think you have the right combination: you're holding it firmly but lightly.' So far so good. It wasn't in his gift, I knew that; but he would support my application. I continued to hold onto it firmly but lightly. Actually I didn't manage the lightly bit very well. At the end of the month my application was turned down. I was really upset.

And in ministry day to day I still struggle to hold some

things, some people, lightly. I don't have a problem with the tightly bit - I have a good memory for faces and names and can hold situations in prayer for years. It's the lightly bit. But when people get ill, when they die; when they move away, disagree, can't be bothered or are too tired, make mistakes and let you down; when our plans seem such a good idea and our programmes so very important to mission that we're thrown into confusion when they don't 'work'; that's when we have to learn to hold on. Lightly.

Lent for Extroverts 29: Ambition and the C of E

Archdeacon Robert - has Episcopal aspirations

When there's nothing on the TV I am prone to watching DVD episodes of Rev. This is a UK comedy, certification 15, starring Tom Hollander as Rev. Adam Smallbone, an Anglican priest, struggling to balance the demands of a small bunch of parishioners, a large and costly church building and a life at the sharp edge of inner city London. It proved a surprise hit when it first appeared in June 2010 (a week before I got ordained), winning a slew of awards inclding Best Sitcom in the British Academy Television Awards. 

Nigel - already a lay reader - thinks he'd be
perfect for Anglican Ordination

In episode 6 of series 2, advancement in the Church of England is considered, with both the weasley Archdeacon (above) and Adam's Lay Reader (the humourless Nigel) looking to advance their ecclesiastical careers (or to discern God's voice in the next step, if you want to put a good gloss on it). 

Archdeacon Robert, usually self assured and bullying, suddenly develops a sickening 'humility', telling all and sundry that he could not possibly presume to be a bishop, unless of course God were calling him. And Nigel, in a wonderful scene of body language belying what he knows to be false, invents a girlfriend called Cherry to make his social and emotional life appear a lot healthier, and takes up hanging around with 'the youth' and the homeless, in the hope of being selected for Ordination training.

The tortuous C of E selection process has been renamed endless times to try and make it seem more palatable, now being called a Bishops Advisory Panel, or BAP for short; an acronym which is misleading in its suggestions of something light and fluffy. In reality it is the best part of three days of interviews and clerically observed meal times, in a conference centre somewhere cold and difficult to drive to, which is demanding enough to leave you in a state of mental and physical demise for days afterwards. 

Recommendation to attend a BAP is in the hands of the Diocesan Director of Ordinands and the local Bishop. To get to see a DDO you need to have spoken to your Vicar and at least one Vocations Advisor, and filled in enough paperwork to necessitate a small forest of saplings to be replanted. So I have some sympathy with Nigel.

The process for appointing a bishop is even more convoluted, involving a 'Vacancy in See' committee; a Cathedral dean; 2 Archdeacons; members of the General Synod; two Archbishops; The Crown Nominations Commission, and, of course, secret meetings. In episode 6 we are treated to Archdeacon Robert squirming in front of a panel of imposing C of E people, one of whom wants to know, before he can be appointed bishop, if he is in an 'active gay relationship'. He crucially hesitates, and we know he will thereby 'fail' to be appointed.

Nigel is also, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful in his hopes to be recommended for ordination training, and is genuinely, lividly upset. Both wander into the church in the final scene, to seek solace, and we hear the strains of jazz music wafting out of the church CD player. It is music lent to Adam by an elderly care home parishioner for whom it recalls happier days. Joining them quietly in the pews are Adam and wife, Alex, who have endured a brief marital crisis, and Colin the drunk who has lost yet another another job. 

The whole episode makes you want to rail against the horrible clashes of personal and priestly life and the complicated and sometimes cruel church processes; yet we're presented with the underlying conviction that in it all there's still something profound worth giving your life to.