tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8117159731541314082024-03-06T07:48:54.061+00:00Revd ClaireA stipendiary curate muses on life in a multi-parish benefice.
Views are my own.Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.comBlogger167125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-6768995289303439032013-02-20T18:39:00.004+00:002013-02-20T18:39:38.762+00:00Closing blog.....<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Final ever shout out - </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This blog has migrated to </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Please amend any links you may have in order to follow this blog - I don't want to lose you! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This blog will shortly be removed. All posts can be found at the new site.</span><br />
Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-71226178788983424082012-12-24T12:21:00.002+00:002012-12-24T12:21:16.823+00:00I've moved - Merry Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just a reminder that this blog has moved to<br />
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Have a very merry, blessed Christmas.Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-83378404851687741112012-12-14T15:40:00.001+00:002012-12-14T15:40:29.467+00:00Reminder - migrated<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This blog has migrated to </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="http://clairemaxim1.wordpress.com/">http://clairemaxim1.wordpress.com</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Please amend any links you may have in order to follow this blog - I don't want to lose you! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am hoping that it will be easier to read, particularly on mobile devices of all kinds, and that you will come over and find me there. Feedback via Wordpress, Twitter, Facebook or here about the new site will be gratefully received.</span><br />
Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-48227731115238802362012-12-03T20:39:00.002+00:002012-12-03T20:39:39.123+00:00Migrated to Wordpress<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This blog has migrated to </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4awg7CWKqStsyRbzzy3jzqfPIoDJb2tk0alIb9zOZm3gfxxG_oWIrHSrlEC5NgN_ph9dIT7BeIj1c3OzPV589q-CjYzHSFST5xAmoZjuXKyC7UKHmXyYvSnBQ1uHMXqI5qcbr3oUKPfg/s1600/no.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4awg7CWKqStsyRbzzy3jzqfPIoDJb2tk0alIb9zOZm3gfxxG_oWIrHSrlEC5NgN_ph9dIT7BeIj1c3OzPV589q-CjYzHSFST5xAmoZjuXKyC7UKHmXyYvSnBQ1uHMXqI5qcbr3oUKPfg/s200/no.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="http://clairemaxim1.wordpress.com/">http://clairemaxim1.wordpress.com</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am hoping that it will be easier to read, particularly on mobile devices of all kinds, and that you will come over and find me there. Feedback via Wordpress, Twitter, Facebook or here about the new site will be gratefully received.</span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-63238044705081645782012-12-01T15:10:00.000+00:002012-12-01T15:10:59.979+00:00Active or Passive?<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here we go, here we go, here we go. (For those of you unfamiliar with football chants, there is a lot more of this one but you should have picked up the words by now.) Here are the calls to arms. Or more accurately, the calls to protest.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFt7hF26fw6SbakBBF42xiCXRQruVRxcZ6aXW78DVA-sLf7oGXwgmV3e5ToTNJF2lr-ppeXMYfGC5cDb22iqWTJtqcCNXeCyLgWMiI6jC4g4_T5pUBk4WkiIVXTdJVtsUum1YceN46KrI/s1600/IMG_1281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFt7hF26fw6SbakBBF42xiCXRQruVRxcZ6aXW78DVA-sLf7oGXwgmV3e5ToTNJF2lr-ppeXMYfGC5cDb22iqWTJtqcCNXeCyLgWMiI6jC4g4_T5pUBk4WkiIVXTdJVtsUum1YceN46KrI/s320/IMG_1281.JPG" width="238" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Change your avatar to wear a purple ribbon. Wear a purple ribbon. Dye your hair purple. Wear purple clothes. Wear purple nail varnish.Do nothing in church other than pray silently on 9th December if you are a woman. Wear an apron on 9th December if you are a woman. Join WATCH, join Reform, don't join Foward in Faith by mistake. Make your voices heard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, erm, actually, no. I have a voice here, and I have used it, and continue to do so. People in relationship with me, via this blog and by other means, know what I think, and how strongly I think it. I have had the opportunity to respond to an open letter from our Diocesan Officer for Women's Ministry (sorry if I have got the title wrong) and I have taken that opportunity, in clear, frank terms. I will continue to offer my view as often as anyone will listen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I am a parish priest. I am here, paid by the Church of England not to work, so that I can minister here to anyone who wants me. And it is ministry that is called for, it is relationship that is called for, not overt symbols of my protests or grievances. I am called to listen, to be alongside, to articulate God in the here and now at every opportunity. I'm not called here to browbeat people about what to think on one issue. If I persuade them by my actions that the ministry of women is not something to fear, or from which to hide, then thank God for that. But how can I hope to engage with those who fear the ministry of women if I wear symbols of protest? It's obvious enough I am a woman and that I am clergy, so for them to get within speaking/listening distance of me is hard enough already. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I already wear quite a lot of purple. I have said for some years that I will dye my hair purple if I am ever enthroned as a bishop (yeah right - I don't see it either!). I wear an apron when I cook or clean. I often go into churches and pray silently. I haven't joined any church organisation (apart from the Rural Theology Association, which is ecumenical). I want to be able to minister to the people here as they deserve - as me, with my God given Claire shaped ministry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This of course lays me wide open to the charge of piggybacking on the efforts of others, of refusing to stand up and be counted, of taking advantage of those who protest. But I don't think so. For some, visible mass protest is the fastest way of being heard. I am using other ways open to me, because they are what suit me. And I hope that others will benefit from my efforts, albeit on a much smaller scale. I believe that God is at work in the relationships, in the listening, that there is grace to be found in that. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-64516880244597183422012-11-29T19:17:00.000+00:002012-11-29T19:17:28.970+00:00Family life<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Officiating at four funerals this week has forced me to think about families. Families in shock, families grieving, families thankful that there is no more suffering, families already torn apart, families at breaking point, families united and divided. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisiKAyKo0UMampFm3O3hPDHc8ifxced9jxcsBqGhrn5qVwy7w4AOecNmSl4rD_ik_e-Mzq8sFr6zpXUNaPG5ib2ImBmwgKuQYldAbXC4njHtKxQm_4OIFC-Y8ohVDikArVUi_l8QgVq58/s1600/IMG_0450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisiKAyKo0UMampFm3O3hPDHc8ifxced9jxcsBqGhrn5qVwy7w4AOecNmSl4rD_ik_e-Mzq8sFr6zpXUNaPG5ib2ImBmwgKuQYldAbXC4njHtKxQm_4OIFC-Y8ohVDikArVUi_l8QgVq58/s200/IMG_0450.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's all well and good saying that we'll all be re-united in God's perfect love for all eternity. There's quite a lot of living to be done before that. There will be rows, recriminations, blame, guilt, and, I trust, listening, talking, hugs, love, reconciliation. Not all families go through all of these things, but lots do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You can tell where I'm going with this, can't you? Yes, back to Christians again. We've been acting like a family for two thousand years, we're not about to stop now. Taking the long view, this is what we do. It's the human face of church. But it's frightening watching a family row. Neighbours get worried by the shouting. Vulnerable family members may be terrified, and deeply upset. The ones shouting most loudly tend not to realise the effect they have on other people (and I write as one who can shout very loudly when I put my mind to it). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So where does that leave the good old Church of England? We gave out post it notes for people to write their thoughts and feelings during services on Sunday. This remarkably unscientific and probably skewed "poll" (noting that our Benefice has a male vicar, with men and women in the ordained and lay licensed ministry team) told us that around 3% of our Sunday congregations don't positively support women bishops. The rest do. These are the people who have been standing silent by the walls watching the vitriolic rows in the middle of the room. These are the bewildered folk who don't get what all the fuss is about. In our benefice, they are the huge majority. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That doesn't mean the minority should be ignored - although our 3% all received communion consecrated by a woman. The minority should be listened to, quietly, with grace and respect. This is their church too. But I need to say, clearly, and without ambiguity - the Church of England should not feel the need to protect anyone legally from my ministry. The Church of England should expect me to be sensitive to those who welcome my "Claire-shaped" ministry, and to those who don't. It should expect the same sensitivity of Rev'ds </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Andrew, Catherine, </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">David, Frances, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">John, Margaret, Paul</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">, Rachel, Simon, and Tess, too. But it really shouldn't ordain people if it seriously believes that the population at large requires legal protection from their ministries. </span><br />
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-57766141276025442712012-11-28T11:48:00.000+00:002012-11-28T11:48:01.883+00:00Claire-shaped<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFM5ccsPjq3-oc_2nBGOuLGg-v-XCYJoyNgvwKf3aCnMfXMIOe6agH8RDteYrdlJ8HLyWLg17arFPYmIW-AFouq4ujgLHFr-X8KmMb2c9el0aCi_oSjt4imPxUDuctM8bzFUVhGw_1SiY/s1600/IMG_0828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFM5ccsPjq3-oc_2nBGOuLGg-v-XCYJoyNgvwKf3aCnMfXMIOe6agH8RDteYrdlJ8HLyWLg17arFPYmIW-AFouq4ujgLHFr-X8KmMb2c9el0aCi_oSjt4imPxUDuctM8bzFUVhGw_1SiY/s320/IMG_0828.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two funerals down, two to go. Yesterday's got to me a little. I didn't know the person we were committing to God's care, but I knew the rest of the congregation. All five of them. All women, gathered sadly and quietly to say goodbye to a man. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I learned a little of what it was like to stand at the foot of the Cross yesterday. To be one of the women. To be regarded as part of what they were doing, to be acknowledged as a bridge in the process, to be expected to articulate something of God, in terms they knew and recognised and which spoke into their guts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Any one of my wonderful male clergy friends would have done a great job of that funeral. But yesterday, I was thankful that I am Claire-shaped. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-22676342963845594392012-11-26T17:16:00.000+00:002012-11-26T17:16:16.426+00:00Fallout<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So the Church of England have published the results of the electronic voting on Women Bishops - no, I'm not linking to it. Motions and questions in the House are being tabled and asked, and there's lots of opinions from all sides available via Twitter, Facebook, blogs and doubtless other more mysterious social media at a computer or smartphone near you. Some of them are very well thought through, some of them are a bit ranting. SNAFU, in engineering terms. (If you don't know, google it, but not if the F-word offends.) </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusOL9DX5q5uSpf5BzkiUqvHuZS1GrvUjQ7DX_JpXZlnm2TAv-SZ-vxoQZmyr2kV-zR81NcYDTEDrxEBL5fe1yVyD8Z-OGthY2kRLPSy6c3yN4CHn4roCv8jMErl8EGKblFZWvKsciLNc/s1600/IMG_0474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusOL9DX5q5uSpf5BzkiUqvHuZS1GrvUjQ7DX_JpXZlnm2TAv-SZ-vxoQZmyr2kV-zR81NcYDTEDrxEBL5fe1yVyD8Z-OGthY2kRLPSy6c3yN4CHn4roCv8jMErl8EGKblFZWvKsciLNc/s320/IMG_0474.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I agree that it is not enough to invite everyone to "calm down, dear." This isn't a commercial (although it is a dreadful advert for church). And yes, in my darker more selfish moments, I would invite everyone who doesn't want woman bishops to naff off to a church which doesn't have them, of the appropriate theological persuasion. But the appropriate response to that is to invite me to naff off to a church which does. This isn't "my" church, any more than it is "yours". It's God's. And if that hurts me, tough. It isn't personal, and there are many more people hurting than me from all sides.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In my really dark moments, I might bang on about being a second class priest. But actually my ordained sisters and brothers are all</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> first class priests. I am a first class priest whose ministry is inappropriate in some situations. Think about that. There are some situations where a ministry by someone "Claire shaped (including 'remarkably fine breasts')" is the best possible thing. There are some </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">situations</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> that I </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">shouldn't</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> be allowed near, with or without female attributes. Sometimes "Claire" works, sometimes "AN Other" is far more appropriate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My worry isn't the parishioner who wrote "no women bishops, ever" on a post it note, signed it, and then came up to receive Holy Communion at my hands. That, like the <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/well-because.html">voice of opposition</a>, is a reaction to change as much as anything else. My worry isn't the misogynists who are using this issue to hide their prejudices. If they lose this, they'll find another way to express their dislike of women. No. My worry is those with deeply held theological beliefs which mean they cannot accept the ordination of women. Or it was. I don't want to get personal, but there are some good men and women out there, walking closely with God, who love the Church of England just as much as I do. And, this issue aside, we have much in common. And when I see one of those good men being installed by an ordained woman, and not looking totally miserable/angry/dismayed, but smiling and gracious, I have to have hope.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because I don't want to get personal, but it is in the up close and personal that relationship happens. It's in the up close and personal that we learn about each other. And the more up close and personal we get with our fellow humans, the more we learn about them and ourselves, about our shared humanity and our shared view of divinity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No, I'm not trying to be nice. Believe me, I'm many things, but nice isn't one of them. What I want (gosh look how long it took before I said that!) is to be part of a debate. A gracious, sensible kind debate, which acknowledges God's calling to all Christians. If that means bringing my anger and pain and sharing that with others, then fine. But we have to move past anger sooner or later, because this is not our church, it's God's, meant to be a fit bride for Christ. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have said before and I repeat, I don't think legislation of any kind is the answer. I wouldn't have Resolutions A,B or C and I would have bishops. But I am comfortable that in some places, I'm just not the best person to minister, and I am happy to exist in a Church which allows people to say that. But not without plenty of dialogue and up close, personal experience on which people can base their decision. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-70243152491808608772012-11-25T12:00:00.001+00:002012-11-25T12:00:23.543+00:00Love hurts<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What I did in two sermon slots this morning - 8am in one church, 9.30 in another. More or less. I expanded this a bit I expect.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>God the Father,</i></span><br />
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help us to hear the call of Christ the King
and to follow in his service,</i></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>
whose kingdom has no end;</i></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>
for he reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, one glory. Amen </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I was so looking forward to preaching 'Christ the King'. Then Tuesday happened, and I said to the Vicar "how can I stand and preach now?" His reply - "if you are able, tell them how you feel". </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>How I feel? How can I have the cheek to stand in front of a congregation and rant through my pain, my grief, my feelings of rejection, my anger? That's not a sermon, it's abuse of a pulpit. How can I preach church as a Bride fit for Christ the King, when I am so angry? What can I say about a church which debated so unkindly from all sides on Tuesday? Where is the hope?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Then Friday happened. I <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/dialogue-begins-here.html">met a man,</a> who was nearly crying with the effort of keeping his rage in check, shaking with anger at Bishops who were ignoring what Synod said. Bad enough that there are women priests, bad enough that he doesn't know whether the Reserved Sacrament is Sacrament, but to watch bishops and others tear his beloved Church of England apart was unbearable.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>So we sat for an hour in our shared pain, rage and grief. We talked. We listened really really hard. I came away exhausted and enriched. All we had done was talk and listen about what we thought and how we felt. And this is what I invite you to do now, quietly, prayerfully. Write down how you feel and what you think about women bishops [post-it notes]. Tell us. We will gather them, and offer all our feelings and thoughts to God. And I ask again, do so prayerfully, kindly, with grace. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And don't feel picked on. You don't have to participate, you don't have to write your name. We are doing this at every service in the Benefice today, we want to know how you feel and what you think, so that we can move forward as a church, a bride for Christ the King.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Stir up, O Lord,</span><br style="background-color: white; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">the wills of your faithful people;</span><br style="background-color: white; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works,</span><br style="background-color: white; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">may by you be plenteously rewarded;</span><br style="background-color: white; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">through Jesus Christ our Lord.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And bless them, both times they sat in silence and scribbled away. I have read the 8 o'clockers. Six affirmations, one who will never stomach women bishops. All as expected. One who was delighted to be asked what she thought, and angry that that sermon slot had been used "inappropriately". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Before the 9.30, my lovely training incumbent came (unscheduled) to deacon, and he did the notices. He told the congregation about the Bishops' letter to the Diocese, and he prayed for all the women who minster in our benefice - whatever they do. And I felt my composure start to fail. I kept it together all the way through presiding, although I was nearly undone by kind words at The Peace. Afterwords, I hid in the vestry, where the most unlikely of the three servers found me. "Don't know what you're looking like that for. You're a big girl now. Get out there, you've got a job to do, you know you can do it". Which from that particular server, is as close to a hug and a big wet kiss as I will ever get. It made me cry more, but did have the desired effect pretty quickly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Trying to hold the tension is exhausting. Grace hurts, but it must be given, received, and lived out. I will be "preaching" this sermon once more at Evensong. I pray I'll never need it again. </span></div>
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-62431340349311850122012-11-23T18:27:00.001+00:002012-11-23T18:27:59.767+00:00Dialogue begins here<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlsgUSF9XsrRn9nF_or1pHLXtMEsJ519g0RbelKj3TUAu0aEk0Km1-mEKXc3279X9QuD1rGoQINio-ohTKSStFb4bCkx01puuJ3gxO2oj6B32uCSfcoTlQxBujGFShG-htLXQHHbYES0/s1600/IMG_1276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlsgUSF9XsrRn9nF_or1pHLXtMEsJ519g0RbelKj3TUAu0aEk0Km1-mEKXc3279X9QuD1rGoQINio-ohTKSStFb4bCkx01puuJ3gxO2oj6B32uCSfcoTlQxBujGFShG-htLXQHHbYES0/s320/IMG_1276.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I really should have learned to be careful what I wish for. Feel free to remind me of this frequently. I said "<a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/grace.html">Let me work with you, you can trust me.</a>" I really really said that, and God heard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today I was Visitors' Chaplain at the Cathedral. I had a great time - I saw someone for coffee beforehand, I had a few conversations, then went out into the Christmas Market in my cloak, and smiled at people. Lots smiled back, many spoke, some chatted, a few wanted conversations. Chaplaincy in the sunshine amid people who, however hurt and broken, were managing to smile. There was peace and love and tough talking and healing. And none of it had much to do with the topic of the week in the church. It was all about ordinary, amazing lives. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I even acquired a basis for a Christmas Morning sermon - but that is for another time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I watched the newly married couple emerge into the sunshine, went inside, and the wedding photographer laughed so much when he saw me that he took a photo, looked at it on his camera and made me pose properly. Again, when I get the results, I'll share. I met the Vicar of the Close, who was quite happy to release me early, so I headed for the Virgers' Office to get my stuff, and then the call came on their radio - "Can we have a chaplain at the Entrance Desk?" "She's right here and on her way" said a Virger, so I wafted my way down the Cathedral, and smiled at the man there, who smiled back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Are you a priest?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Yes I am, shall we find a quiet spot and talk?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Yes please. Odd that it's you here. I'll explain in a minute"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And he did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He was enraged. He was shaking and nearly crying with the scale of his anger. He could not believe what the Bishops were saying about his beloved Church of England, that there would be women bishops even after they had been voted down [sic]. Bad enough that he no longer knew whether to reverence the Reserved Sacrament or not, because he couldn't be sure in a strange church whether it had been consecrated by a man, bad enough that there are women priests ("it's not personal, you understand"), but to see the decision of Synod being publicly ignored was more than he could bear. He'd prayed, and God had told him to take his anger to the Cathedral. So here he was. With his pain and his anger and his grief. Up close and personal. And after a fair bit of venting, he wanted to know what I thought. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Through his anger and his grief and his pain, he asked me to describe how I know I was called. So I did. He listened carefully, and expressed surprise at the similarities between my story and that of a monk he knows. We talked about prayer, about discerning God's will, about animals, about heaven, about scripture, about churches, about church. We talked for an hour, and parted with smiles, a handshake, good wishes, and our respective views intact and respected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I won't lie, afterwards I was shattered. I'd absorbed a lot of anger and I know I looked awful, because the lovely lovely Virgers gave me a cup of tea, made me sit down, and cosseted me. It's taken me about three hours and a decent meal to recover.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But no-one said it would be easy. But I was given an opportunity for grace today, and by the grace of God I hope that my new friend sleeps soundly tonight with his integrity intact. I know I will. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-17641379446495013402012-11-22T20:36:00.000+00:002012-11-22T20:36:50.804+00:00Well, because<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back in the parish this morning at our cafe, I chatted to a lot of different people about the Women Bishops Measure vote. I was touched by the care, concern and support I received. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was also heartened by the voice of opposition who said "No, I don't want women bishops, can't stand them." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Why not?" I asked. "What don't you like about them?" Parish life is a wonderful place where relationships grow and develop and allow that kind of question to be asked... and the voice of opposition was very happy to tell me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Well, because it's what you grow up with, isn't it? And another thing, if everyone called children children not kids then they'd behave a lot better, and show some respect." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With that, the voice of opposition was lost in a cacophony of replies, all about the kids of today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Heartened because the voice of opposition would have said the same about women priests, but accepts communion at my hands quite happily. Heartened because that's the most common opposition of all, to anything...the fear of change, the dread of the loss of the old, the concern of the move to the new. Heartened because this opposition isn't about theology. And, to be honest, heartened because the voice of opposition was on its own, in that context, in that place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But last night, someone suggested to me that I am much less accepted than I think I am, that I minister in this context on sufferance. This shocked me far more than the voice of oppostion did today. But I have to listen to the voice, whether I like it or not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On Sunday we are doing listening in the sermon spot. We are handing out post-its and asking people to write their thoughts and feelings about the vote. We are going to gather them and offer them to God. And then some of us will read them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I predict a great deal of bewilderment, anger, grief and support. I predict a few voices that I don't want to hear. And then the hard work of listening and building relationship will begin, without any doubt about "I think that they think". At least, I hope so. </span><br />
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-90264023423681346132012-11-21T13:23:00.001+00:002012-11-21T15:12:42.194+00:00Grace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's a normal working day in the life of this curate - a funeral visit, a walk through the village, an unexpected flu jab this morning - this afternoon, tributes to write, website content to plan, a funeral meeting - this evening a volunteers briefing meeting as part of my reflection on Winchester Cathedral, and a staff meeting to end. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Except it doesn't feel quite like an ordinary day. Yesterday, synod rejected the method put before them of enabling women to be appointed and operate as bishops. Rejected by a minority in one House, and I note that there was a simple and substantial majority in favour of the Measure as it stood, but the voting hurdle in one house was not reached. These things happen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I feel a little odd, having <strike>blogged </strike>ranted, on the <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/apathetic-and-apoplectic.html">topic of democracy</a> and listening to the voices we don't want to hear as well as those we do. And I'm clear in my views of <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/bishops-logic-and-emotion.html">bishops (of all gender and sexual identities)</a>. I even commented on why I didn't <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/badge-of-honour.html">wear a twibbon</a> in support of the Measure - it was all part of shutting up and praying instead. When I heard the outcome of the vote was I so shocked and grieved. Today I am angry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I got a Direct Message on Twitter (these are private, so I protect the identity of the sender) - "Is it not God's Will?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If the decisions of General Synod indicate God's will, then God wants bishops male and female. That decision has already been made. But God didn't want this measure. Were I to be mischievous, I might suggest that God doesn't want second class bishops any more than I do. And I don't want to be a second class priest any more either. I don't think it matters whether I have a penis or not. I am in God's image. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What grace and love am I showing to those who cannot accept women priests or women bishops? Precious little. What grace do they wish to be shown? I've never asked, to be honest. I assume - not to be subject to the sacramental ministry of a woman, while remaining in an honoured place in the Church of England. And what grace do I want from them? To be able to minister sacramentally anywhere I am called to be.In whatever order of Deacon, Priest, Bishop seems good to God and to the church. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Are these two objectives so irreconcilable? Of course they aren't. If I was particularly catholic in my practise, I would be unlikely to try to serve in a strongly evangelical church. And vice versa. And I've spent years either fitting in with a parish church in the village where I am living at the time, or seeking out church which better suits me and enables me to meet God. I voted with my feet, and so do most regular churchgoers. But this simple and practical solution to differences of churchmanship does not appear to suit any side of the debate concerning people's ability to respond to God's call with integrity. But the solution requires the removal of the idea of "taint" (that a bishop who ordains women cannot validly ordain men either), and it acknowledges that if insufficient men are bishops, then there is a risk that there won't be any men ordained by men left in the church. But the same is true if the Church of England shifts to the evangelical or catholic ends of the spectrum - the result would be the exclusion of some people - and we don't have legislation about that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So my solution is to have a single measure, no codes of conduct, not even any Resolutions A B or C, just bishops, priests, deacons and laity in every glorious variety and hue we can find, and people who vote with their feet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">BUT both sides of the debate would have to trust each other. Trust is built by interacting gently, quietly, with calmness and listening, not by trading 120 second speeches at Synod. But now I've put my cards firmly on the table - who will trust me? The people I am seeing about funerals today trust me. The website techies trust me. My training incumbent trusts me. I am by the grace of God trusted every day of my life. Let me work with you, you can trust me. </span><br />
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Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-13957963910984322362012-11-18T18:02:00.001+00:002012-11-18T18:02:13.516+00:00Feeding my inner geek<br />
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Although we've had a few "entertaining" moments this week, involving a couple of trips to A&E, there's been quite a lot of loveliness too.....</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiD4nZm3R0pNfdPv1vSU-m3a6oFUMDFlY4XohJ5jt36aKciE3p0GjGnDbbd8zVDBHNsR7n9jU0beI-k3zBzgl_U5Z4NZBIPa8i6bxdiyVgNvVId7Wttk65UGdmvGQVTUBZ7sO8kbYixHI/s1600/IMG_1261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiD4nZm3R0pNfdPv1vSU-m3a6oFUMDFlY4XohJ5jt36aKciE3p0GjGnDbbd8zVDBHNsR7n9jU0beI-k3zBzgl_U5Z4NZBIPa8i6bxdiyVgNvVId7Wttk65UGdmvGQVTUBZ7sO8kbYixHI/s200/IMG_1261.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Darling Son won the prize for art at his GCSE Presentation Evening ... and we collected his portfolio from his old school. I hadn't seen his work all together until today - and we have now put it up in our dining room, it's too good to leave gathering dust in the loft. Well, I would say that, wouldn't I? Judge for yourselves.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqeQoQ9pIrK-5jTcgLvtQHkexPhjq3jRkH3bLtzpdpBu2QJSPfKi7HMK66fuWDG44Ixa_MK8UBhhoPYxcWNu0A226Py21tpfCgGuEIrA9EECHIYKh-3pK7loGE0mGFJksNaMM1ZZSnc0/s1600/IMG_1175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqeQoQ9pIrK-5jTcgLvtQHkexPhjq3jRkH3bLtzpdpBu2QJSPfKi7HMK66fuWDG44Ixa_MK8UBhhoPYxcWNu0A226Py21tpfCgGuEIrA9EECHIYKh-3pK7loGE0mGFJksNaMM1ZZSnc0/s200/IMG_1175.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And on Friday there was time to talk to friends, greatly valued.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yesterday I wandered about in an autumnal National Trust garden, and generally spent time with family eating, drinking and making merry - conscious of good wishes from many friends near and far. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And today I visited an aircraft museum - not particularly an interest of mine, I don't know one aircraft from another. But I do love the engineering, and derived much pleasure from being close up and personal with the hinges of a folding wing (I'm told it was a De Haviland Sea Vixen, for those who understand such things. Look at how the extra hinge is created as the wing is folded down into place - the hinge interlocks and the piston slides across to hold it in place. I think that's clever. And beautiful. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5viIsQbJZ5EzwSm3i-8_M13znYE-_h2WkXq3WdFC0hPBYC8sweTPxamMJdxan1xgV6uznB0aj_rD5CYf4_BhovMA4K29BvZh8RV9PXrFMLYI5JCJ2a0droHjEnbY-7l8zWwRwAz0uMw/s1600/IMG_1190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5viIsQbJZ5EzwSm3i-8_M13znYE-_h2WkXq3WdFC0hPBYC8sweTPxamMJdxan1xgV6uznB0aj_rD5CYf4_BhovMA4K29BvZh8RV9PXrFMLYI5JCJ2a0droHjEnbY-7l8zWwRwAz0uMw/s320/IMG_1190.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So happiness appears to be family, friends, good food (and drink!), and creation - of nature and of clever folk. So much to be thankful for. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-36627652140447684142012-11-16T16:50:00.002+00:002012-11-16T16:50:58.746+00:00Apathetic and apoplectic<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Couldn't be arsed. No-one asked me what I wanted. It wouldn't make any difference even if I did. Yes, that's my entirely without evidence (qualitative or quantitative) summary of the PCC election.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No, strike that. It's my (EWE[QorQ]) summary of any PCC election. In fact, any Parochial Church Council, Parish Council, Borough Council, County Council election. And therein lies the trouble don't you know. Because if everyone thinks they don't make a difference no-one votes at all, and "they" run the country without reference to "us" at all. The gap gets wider, the polemic gets stronger, and no-one gets involved in the running unless they have an axe to grind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And so we end up in a situation where those who have no voice are ever more deprived, and we are offered a choice of candidates to do a job that most people don't understand or want (EWE[QorQ] again).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What does it look like if we try to do it differently? How do we give voices to the voiceless? Because if we do, we may not like what we hear. I'm a good woolly liberal, I don't want to hear the voice that says "I don't want them from overseas" or the one which says "man and woman, the only way" or the one which says "men are worth more than women" or any other number of myriad voices which add to discourses I disagree with or find distasteful or downright wrong? What about the ones which enrage me? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because either we give everyone a voice, or no-one. We either equip people to make the decisions and trust them, or take the ability to decide away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But what makes me apoplectic is when that loss of voice happens by gradual, one-voice-at-a-time, creeping apathy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>"Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven"</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s200/IMG_1068.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After yo-yo-ing about, it's a great relief to have a flatter day in terms of emotions and energy. Nothing has been insurmountable, everything has been copeable and cheerful. I may have made it at last. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-41419872549832223792012-11-14T15:00:00.000+00:002012-11-14T15:00:17.874+00:00Blasted yo-yos. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s320/IMG_1068.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The trouble with coming up to the surface is when you've finally broken through for the first time in a while and then you bob back under again. The relief of finally feeling "normal" again is huge, and I forget that the swim to the surface has been lose a half for every two gained. (Sorry, that's awful English. I mean two steps forward, half a step back, but that doesn't fit with the swimming metaphor.) So I make it, but then end up underwater again. Not far under, but disproportionately angry with myself for being there at all. And so very very tired - it's been a slightly longer haul out of this than I hoped or expected, and I could do without another load of energy expended. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I felt tonnes better for fresh air and new experiences yesterday, then spent the evening in A&E with my poor child number two, who having repeated the injury of two years ago, knew the score, and the treatment, and coped admirably. The nhs staff were as ever excellent, the wait was quite long, but par for the course, and the plaster cast will do the trick. Child number two deserves the sympathy, but I feel worn out today, and not quite sure how to pick myself up and get moving again. Am I a swimmer or a yo-yo?</span><br />
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<br />Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-21390382229255721422012-11-13T16:10:00.000+00:002012-11-13T16:10:25.181+00:00Interfaith dialogue - on my day off too!<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I went for a walk and nothing funny happened. No <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/celebration-thank-you.html">puddles</a>, no mad dogs, no<a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/walking-and-knickers.html"> removal of trousers</a>, all was very normal for me, except it wasn't. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUCjsjjDtDMu7MVBVTXpJ2vMChO6dttLyMqmEjE9Kan1xoJxgmh7Lf-jbPhLlR6qT74wToCnePN9WUQJU9FE0pUfHkcxbwJOpmJV3rc1jZMzWPmNzkitMAga-4gq8Cqw2q_PwIZ7jRrIY/s1600/IMG_1100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUCjsjjDtDMu7MVBVTXpJ2vMChO6dttLyMqmEjE9Kan1xoJxgmh7Lf-jbPhLlR6qT74wToCnePN9WUQJU9FE0pUfHkcxbwJOpmJV3rc1jZMzWPmNzkitMAga-4gq8Cqw2q_PwIZ7jRrIY/s320/IMG_1100.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was at <a href="http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/stonehenge/">Stonehenge</a>, a world heritage site, one of those places that I've always wanted to go to, but never got around to it. I used to have a Ladybird book about it when I was little, which I loved. I've seen the pictures, read a fair bit about it, watched the programmes so thought I might as well go and take a look.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had always heard how small it was, but my brain had obviously overcompensated. And in spite of all the tourists (on a Tuesday in November) it had a power of its own. I didn't expect to feel as though I was walking into a cathedral - but I did. Stonehenge felt like a place of prayer. It was built before the pyramids (according to carbon dating) and it felt like coming home. I prayed my way around it, and felt its solemnity and joy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was on my way out when I met a lady wearing a long blue dress, black cloak, and fake flowers in her hair. So I, entirely out of character, said "Blessings, sister" - not my standard method of approach admittedly. She explained she was a shaman, gifted in the ways of time. Me, I'll talk to anyone, but was surprised when she handed me her staff (with its carved goats head), said "lean on that and see what you feel". I have no idea whether I am susceptible to suggestion (probably!), but instantly felt very very warm. As she got me to turn it so that the head faced in different directions, I could feel a force pushing me, really rather hard, in the direction the head was facing. When she finally got me to turn it so I was looking at the goat face on, the force shifted to within me, running straight into the ground. Weird. She looked me up and down, announced "you're healed" and that my relationship with time was shifted so that I was now able to be me, in the present. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This may or may not have been so much mumbo jumbo, but it made sense to me. We talked about connections to earth and land and standing in gaps. And given I've always had a strong relationship with the land I call home, it made sense to me that healing involved reconnection with the ground. Christians may well be outraged that receiving communion has not been healing enough over the past couple of weeks, that something else may have made a difference - but I reckon God moves in mysterious ways and is well able to use all means to hand. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I went for a walk afterwards, over to the barrows. The whole landscape is just remarkable, and I felt a great sense of peace (although that is why I walk in the first place). Don't know what anyone else would make of this, but I think this was a day well spent. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-23343899341219825612012-11-12T12:05:00.000+00:002012-11-12T12:06:33.571+00:00Blinking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s320/IMG_1068.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Remembrance Sunday, one of the scariest events of the year for me, is done. I thought I would feel better after it, and I do. I am blessed in that everything went well, we remembered with integrity, and a huge weight is lifted from me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am emerging into the sunlight again, blinking rather hard. Hindsight suggests that this episode has lasted just over two weeks - the last five days of which has been spent recognising where I am and climbing out. The trigger(s) - a lot of busy weeks after a fraught summer, and the realisation that half term was no different, so no family time. No down time for me is disaster, add guilt about family neglect, guilt about neglected studies, a clock change, impending death anniversaries, a decent cold, some things I forgot to do to add to the guilt, and suddenly I do not cope. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I suspect a lot of this could have been avoided by use of the word "no", plotting in more down time. And by talking about how I was feeling as I started to feel bad, rather than waiting until I had already hit the bottom and was starting to climb up. I have to trust that other people can cope with how I feel. I have learned this lesson before, not terribly well. I suspect I'll spend a lifetime learning it. But to have the dark voices that tell me I am unloveable, not worth attention, a rubbish [Mum / wife / curate / student / friend / person / housekeeper / you-name-it-I'm-rubbish-at-it] moderated by those around me is essential. Dark voices are loud. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You may be wondering about the picture I've been using to flag these posts. I produced it one dark afternoon last year (for I more usually have dark hours than dark days), and called it "Heart of Darkness". For me it is a description of hope in the love of God and of my fellow humans. It is a reminder that the spiritual war is already won, all I have to do is fight the battles, that the cross is empty, and that I am loved. For me it describes the difference between darkness and despair.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A huge thank you to everyone who has sent me love and support, who has prayed for me. I've heard from you via this blog, email, Facebook, Twitter, phone and face to face, and I am grateful. Special prayers continue for those souls who said "I recognise this" - and there are far more of us about who recognise this than we realise. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-8612271364110413852012-11-11T12:22:00.000+00:002012-11-11T12:34:43.029+00:00Preaching and God does the work.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdVOt2ayLNNCdti4ZRb6RelTjajiNejt-H0mMGfd601szcWo94kNjvDa3UHb58QAp6t6pnZqAFT61nTHUSMbcn4f8DLC_xd3KWz7w1UPTiclWty9Y5CvyBvLQeqJZKmeQyXZFQ88fjnM/s1600/2012-11-11+12.16.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdVOt2ayLNNCdti4ZRb6RelTjajiNejt-H0mMGfd601szcWo94kNjvDa3UHb58QAp6t6pnZqAFT61nTHUSMbcn4f8DLC_xd3KWz7w1UPTiclWty9Y5CvyBvLQeqJZKmeQyXZFQ88fjnM/s320/2012-11-11+12.16.23.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Preaching. Meeting people where they are in their context with scripture with integrity. Usually. Today I took a step into Remembrance Sunday, but instead of trying to meet them where they are, I started where I am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because there are so many people to meet today. The bereaved, the maimed in body and spirit, those for who fighting is a way of life, those who go on anti-war marches, those who expect everyone else to protect their freedom, those who see criticism of any war as high treason against Her Majesty, those who insist we must all wear a poppy in order to demonstrate support for our armed forces....the list goes on. I cannot meet all those people where they are. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I started where I am. This felt a self indulgent misuse of the pulpit. But I couldn't find anywhere better to start from. I preached from what I read, what I see, and how I feel. I preached where I find God in it all. And I have never had such a loud, varied, long, positive load of feedback from so many people about any sermon I have preached ever. I haven't done Remembrance Sunday in that particular parish before. I didn't quite know who would be in the congregation. But I had at least one veteran of Afghanistan, and more of earlier wars. I had families who had relatives among the fallen. I had people who have been anti-war ever since they found CND, I had Christians who have no doubts about anything, and Christians who doubt everything. I had people who come to church because it's social, and those who come because God is their rock. And I had me too, I was there because I was rota'd to be, and if I hadn't been rota'd I would have hidden away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And somehow God reached many people today. I am grateful, thankful, and awed.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCoKQijrW_ene6x9OgT6bRdjpmb_ue-QNqSLklxdYlz9xy0IqqOuoHYURAneRKm4LL0hkWgSW1GV0sQMlzyO1Mf-2xlgiy6YwQAHScdaaLRKo4Rr0joMk8oeECuH4WMIfw_nu0awdTAs/s1600/440990068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCoKQijrW_ene6x9OgT6bRdjpmb_ue-QNqSLklxdYlz9xy0IqqOuoHYURAneRKm4LL0hkWgSW1GV0sQMlzyO1Mf-2xlgiy6YwQAHScdaaLRKo4Rr0joMk8oeECuH4WMIfw_nu0awdTAs/s1600/440990068.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you want to read what I preached, the text (which I may have deviated from now and again) is below. And I didn't wear a poppy - bought one on, put it safe in my bag for today, couldn't find it anywhere. No-one said a word about it. </span><br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Remembrance Sunday Year B 2012 St Mark’s Ampfield</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Is 57:15-19</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">John 14:23-end</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US">May the words of my mouth
and the thoughts of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight o Lord our
strength and our redeemer. Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world
gives. Do not let your hearts be
troubled and do not be afraid”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Remembrance Sunday is a difficult Sunday on which to preach a
sermon. Because Remembrance Sunday
is full of contradictions and difficulties. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">On Remembrance Sunday we remember those who have died in wars, whether
soldier or civilian. We remember
lives cut short, possibilities closed down, hurt, pain, fear, grief. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And consciously or not we make decisions about who we blame for those
deaths. Whose fault is it that
millions of people died in World War I, whose fault is it that men and women
are dying in Afghanistan?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And then we meet the contradictions, that we are proud of men and women
who risk their personal safety to fight for their fellow human beings – that we
appreciate what they give and do.
But on the other hand why should they have too? Why should people have to die to defend
others? Where does that leave
those who try to live normal lives in places which are perpetually described as
“war torn”? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">War is a complex business, and it makes Remembrance Sunday
complex. And here, we are
remembering at a Christian service for the glory of God, Father Son and Holy
Spirit. We are in the presence of
a God made incarnate human, who said “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give
to you. I do not give to you as
the world gives. Do not let your
hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Do we believe that? Do we
believe that Jesus left us peace?
Where does that leave wars where the victors and vanquished both firmly
believe they are fighting with God on their side? Does God even take sides in wars? Do we buy into
the sentiments expressed by Bob Dylan in his song With God on our side? He ends with the idea that “If God’s on
our side, he’ll stop the next war”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“peace I leave with you” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We might need to be a little more careful about how we read that, how
we hear it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Jesus may well be leaving us peace, but what if we think
differently. We leave things with
people if we want them to do something – I’ll leave it with you. I left it with them. What if Jesus is leaving peace with us,
for us to sort out? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Peace, I leave with YOU.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">What does our world look like if each of us consciously, every time we
make any kind of choice, seeks peace with our neighbour and our wider
community? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Later in this church we will pray “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done
on earth, as it is in heaven.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We don’t have to worry about the Kingdom in heaven – the war is
won. It’s on earth that we still
fight the battle of good against evil, and that is the battle with which we
should engage. It’s a battle which
requires total self honesty, total personal integrity, courage, and always
always choices. And it requires us
to carry an image of what peace looks like – Jesus also said “My peace I give
you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">That is where we get the pattern for how peace looks as far as God is
concerned – blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek, blessed are those who
mourn, those who hunger for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the
peacemakers, blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of
righteousness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">What happens if we consider the impact of each action we take upon
other people? In one sense, at one
level, paralysis. We are all
interconnected; we all affect everyone else. It’s obvious how words do this – look at those who are
believed when they speak out, and at those who are not. Look at the effect of rumour. Look at the effect of a word of
encouragement to someone in need.
Words matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But so do actions – the cheap t shirt in the market might have been
produced by someone working in dreadful conditions....but at least they have a job of sorts and
we need to keep warm.....there are decisions and choices we make which affect
people we will never ever meet, people whose names we will never know, people
made in the image of God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We may feel we cannot stop human wars. We may feel that some wars have to be fought. And the question is “Are they bringing
about the kingdom on earth?” Are
they wars that lead to liberation of spirit, of humans able to be fully
themselves? Or are they wars of
power, of resources, of fear?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">For to bring about the God’s Kingdom on earth means change – it
doesn’t, by experience, appear to be here as a permanent state right now. There must be change. But change is
frightening – so “do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid,” are
the words Jesus added. It’s easy
to say to someone don’t be scared.
It’s much harder to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But Jesus has told us what to do, has given a pattern by which to do it,
and has told us not to be afraid of doing it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I don’t buy into Dylan’s song – God won’t stop wars. But human beings can choose, each of us
can choose, and must choose carefully.
Is this a battle which is part of the already won spiritual war against
evil? Or is is about one set of
humans having power over another set, about imposing one way on others? Choose. Carefully. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Otherwise in another thousand years time, our descendents will be
standing here, comforting the bereaved, caring for the maimed, and trying to
work out how history got them to this point. We are their history, we are the ones who can make a
difference to their present.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world
gives. Do not let your hearts be
troubled and do not be afraid”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Amen. <span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-21028838595561322582012-11-11T08:38:00.000+00:002012-11-11T08:38:01.425+00:00Stiff upper lip....for now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s200/IMG_1068.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This morning I do not want to go and lead and preach a Service of Remembrance. Yesterday was a good day, today I feel a bit raw. I'd rather be feeling robust. But there are thousands of families up and down the country with relatives and friends serving, and fallen. And frankly, that makes how I feel about it pretty irrelevant. It is time to produce a stiff upper lip. Just until about 5 pm today. Those eight and a half hours currently feel like a very long time for this upper lip. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-51790981242210611172012-11-10T14:53:00.000+00:002012-11-10T14:53:09.393+00:00Struggling less...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s200/IMG_1068.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm starting to get a grip again, to talk to a few different people about how I'm feeling now, and how I was feeling before. For me this is extraordinarily difficult, I worry about how much I put on people. But no-one seemed fazed, no-one backed away, no-one said "if you have feelings like this, you are unloveable". I am on the way back to normality, I can deal with life again. But huge thanks to those who have listened and coped, those who have sent messages of support, and special prayers for those who recognise what I have described these past couple of days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I wondered quite hard how open to be about where I have been. But it seems to me that I am not alone, I am not unusual, and that being down is as valid a state as coping beautifully. The more people who talk about this, the more normal it becomes, and the easier it is to seek support, from wherever seems sensible. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Do not be afraid. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-18352977150137528492012-11-09T13:12:00.000+00:002012-11-09T13:12:55.527+00:00Bobbing along<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s200/IMG_1068.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Further to <a href="http://revdclaire.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/down-yes-out-no.html">yesterday's post</a>, today has been about being thankful I can see what is happening, knowing that I will recover soon, but at that painful stage where I still have no sense of proportion, and so still am not myself. In some ways this is feels more sad, being able to stand outside and see what is happening, but still being inside and not able to change how I am behaving. It is the worst of both worlds - I can analyse what I am feeling, but still cannot control reactions in a proportionate way. I am hating what I see, but not managing to do much to alter it. One step, one smile, at a time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I am bobbing along, mostly functioning, but having to run away and hide at regular intervals. This is the hard bit for those close around me too - I am able to be (driven to be?) more open about how I am feeling, but am reliant on their ability to cope with rapid changes and overreactions. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today is not a good day to be writing a sermon. Note to self, write Remembrance Sunday sermon in July. And once Remembrance Sunday is over, another weight will be removed, and I will be dealing with internal, not external, pressures. It all makes life easier. But yesterday and today I have laughed as well as cried, and the fear is largely gone. Tomorrow will be better today...which is better than yesterday....etc. Even as I write, I am recovering the ability to laugh at myself - but with kindness and affection instead of derision. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-43739515343118895752012-11-08T09:16:00.003+00:002012-11-08T09:16:27.951+00:00Down yes, out no. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgruFnFY5ClitjubV-tDCFM6G1Ib8oKovSE8M_TJZBoP4BStl6KbIxns2vgBrBZJDJSFvYjZXrxWI9PuYYEsgjSSb74pH5zgfmU-iWFOndzakqSGxI80CUnvKXURvoA_I_0g5qlgRj3g/s320/IMG_1068.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I often say that I have never suffered from depression. This is true. I've never been diagnosed as clinically depressed - and I've never gone to the doctors to ask to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I have been in a condition that seems from the descriptors to be close to depression - after the deaths of several close family members. Ah, that's not depression, that's being sad, and grieving. Quite right. But there were several deaths, and the feelings lasted a couple of years, so I understand the days when I can function as a human being, albeit from the other side of a metaphorical pane of glass, and the days when I cannot function at all. I get that being told to pull myself together is about as effective as using a sieve to transport water. (And for the record, you wouldn't try to use a sieve to carry water, as a matter of common sense, so please don't tell people with depression to pull themselves together.) I get the dark hopelessness, the feeling of worthlessness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"But you're not like that now, Claire", I hear you cry. No. For the vast majority of the time I am not. I do not suffer the lengthy episodes that characterise depression. But I do fear them, I recognise the capacity within me to drown in that particular river. And every few years I get a bad couple of weeks. Always at this time of year, usually when I am tired and busy. Often in a period when things are happening, which I want to control or have a say in, and which I can't. Generally when I am a bit run down. And sometimes other things happen that remind me of that time, that release a little bit of feeling similar to the feelings I had all those years ago. There isn't a single trigger, just a series of weights which drag me down as they accumulate. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It takes me a while to recognise the signs, to understand what I am feeling is fear, to realise what is happening. An obvious sign is when I stop talking to people - and yesterday I did not want to talk to anyone. This was tricky given I was on a course with my fellow curates and training incumbents, with lots of group work. Then I realised I was using twitter to shout at the world, again, not a good sign. I've told people there I will be off for a few days - I don't want to take out my anger and fear and pain on someone I don't know who can't cope with it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The odd thing is, that although I hate feeling like this, I am less afraid now that it is upon me than I was as I felt it begin to take over. It is as though I have been dragged to the bottom of the river, felt the mud between my toes and know that I can start to swim back up. That's why I know it isn't depression. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-53751725325083018582012-11-07T20:16:00.001+00:002012-11-07T20:23:33.470+00:00Parcelled up<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxX7gZ0dXU-GHPM-FmfTEa6Zca0a8PKRKbueMmUhuxfWWRUKT0QoskbYjuQzGYGb2zdsF1aXUWcxJnzQkmgncf6DFzgLfyqe3DRGkmBoDbg264q-Rvt1bh76CkiJG8jbJxsl6ZLEtlAyo/s1600/IMG_1066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxX7gZ0dXU-GHPM-FmfTEa6Zca0a8PKRKbueMmUhuxfWWRUKT0QoskbYjuQzGYGb2zdsF1aXUWcxJnzQkmgncf6DFzgLfyqe3DRGkmBoDbg264q-Rvt1bh76CkiJG8jbJxsl6ZLEtlAyo/s320/IMG_1066.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two days of curate training, and I'm feeling a bit boxed in, wrapped up and thoroughly labelled. There's nothing wrong with labels until they are over used, over emphasised, or used in a lazy way without acknowledging the limitations. According to Myers-Briggs I am a strong T - which means I make my decisions through logic, not by relying on my emotions. However, this doesn't mean I don't have strong feelings, doesn't mean I can't empathise with how others feel, it just means that I will place greater weight on logical process than on the feelings that I or others have. I often joke that I have all the pastoral sensitivity of a brick. But that's not true, although it may appear so if I articulate my decision making process.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After two days with people, as a good "I" I'm worn out. But I'm more and more aware that this T has feelings too. </span>Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811715973154131408.post-22825588714743917092012-11-04T18:19:00.000+00:002012-11-04T18:19:44.123+00:00Lost virgir?<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'll never have to preach for the first time in a Cathedral ever ever again! It was interesting to get the feedback from my husband, who came along to shepherd me, and generally make sure I didn't crash the car through sheer nerves. Apparently I sound a lot better when I'm not reading head down, but head up (which is why I no longer write out my sermons except when they are "important").</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I didn't lose the Virgirs, managed extempore prayers (no-one told me the preacher does the prayers until just before the service!), and didn't trip over my cassock. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This sermon seemed to be well received, no-one fell asleep or walked out, as far as I could tell. It was lovely of @ramtopsrac and @ramtoptgrum to come along - i didn't realise they were there until it was over. And afterwards, OH took me to the William Walker for a glass. It felt gooooood!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A huge thank you to everyone who has prayed, thought of me, calmed me down and generally helped. You are all wonderful, and I greatly appreciate your care.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm now off for another glass - day off tomorrow! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For those who are wondering, what I preached is below. I may have deviated slightly from the written words, but this is the script. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">4 before Advent Year B <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Winchester Cathedral Evensong 4<sup>th</sup>
November 2012<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Jeremiah 31:31-34<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">1 John 3:1-3<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">May the words of my mouth and the
thoughts of all our hearts be acceptable in thy sight O Lord our strength and
our redeemer. Amen.</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">I hope I may be forgiven for being a bit confused
about which way I am facing in time this afternoon. Whether I am looking back, at the present or forward. This is the fourth service I’ve been
part of today. The first three
times out in Ampfield, Chilworth and North Baddesley were all in celebration of
All Saint’s Day. We were thinking
of the people of today who strengthen and encourage us in our faith and in
practical ways too. And this
afternoon, as I stand here, one service (in our parishes) has finished, and
another is beginning, to mark All Souls – a time when the church reaches out to
those families in the parishes for whom it has conducted funerals. It is a chance to gather people
together who may be at various stages of grieving, to remember their loved
ones, and to remind them of the hope in the Christian faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Of course here it is neither looking back for All
Souls, or looking at where we are for All Saints, we are looking forward
because it is the 4<sup>th</sup> Sunday before Advent. The Sundays before Advent are a
comparatively recent invention in the Lectionary, perhaps an attempt by the
compilers to compete with those garden centres which are already putting out
trees and decorations in anticipation of ....no.... I can’t bring myself to use
the C word yet. Or much more
positively, the Sundays before Advent are a chance to slow down gently from
busy lives and seasons ready to begin the watching and waiting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">The readings we have heard today also look
backwards in time, speak into a current context and then look forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Jeremiah looks back to the Laws of Moses,
reminding the people of what should have held them together with God, just like
a couple held together in marriage. Jeremiah likens the breaking of the
covenant to the break down of a marriage.
Marriages generally start with the very best of intentions – to have and
to hold, for better for worse. But
human beings aren’t always great at keeping promises. Especially the big promises. It can be hard enough to keep the small promises at times. I promise to keep my room tidy, I
promise to do my homework in plenty of time, as we get older I promise to be
home from work on time, and my own (least) favourite – Of course I’ll remember
to do that. This from the woman
who has failed to buy more birthday cards than most of you have had birthdays.
It’s not just marriages that break down starting with the small things, it’s
friendships, work relationships, and of course our relationship with God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">But Jeremiah speaks to his present time and
people in Jerusalem, a people whose society has been deliberately broken down
by the Babylonians, a society where their religion has been undermined by the
destruction of the all important temple, the home (as they saw it) of an often
physically present God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">In the midst of the destruction and dislocation
the prophet offers reassurance “the days are surely coming when I will make a
new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.” This covenant is for all the people,
even though the two houses have been warring between themselves. This covenant is for all the family,
even though the family is divided.
There will be healing, just from the fact that this covenant is for
all. And even more excitingly, the
content of the Covenant, its basis, is forgiveness. There will be no need to carry the crippling level of guilt
at past wrongs, they can be forgiven by God. There is no need to feel guilty for failing to preserve the
Temple against invaders, this covenant is about God in people’s hearts, and
acted out in people’s lives. Yes,
there is still Law, but it is Law lived out through love and care for others,
embodied, not imposed. Jeremiah’s
prophecy is of God giving future hope to God’s people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">John also looks back, reminding his readers of
God’s love for them. Even the love
of God was not enough to hold this Christian community together – John was
writing to the remains of a Christian community that had been split, this time
not by force, but by different beliefs.
John’s letter is more of a sermon, reminding one particular community of
what holds them together. And like
Jeremiah, John writes of a changing relationship with God. Jeremiah speaks of a move from law to
living out a forgiven life; John speaks of a relationship of a parent and
child. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">The thing with a human baby, is that although she
is fully human, it is not terribly obvious what kind of adult she will
become. As parents, we may detect
tenacity, patience, calmness, a certain restless energy in our offspring. But we can’t tell how she will interact
with others, what her interests will be, what kind of a person she will
become. But it is often a
good guide to look at the parents to see how children will turn out – going
back to marriage for a moment, a prospective bridegroom is often advised to
take a good look at his future mother-in-law!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">John writes when our true selves are revealed, we
will look like God, for we are all in God’s image. But that revelation of self, and of God, is ...not yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">So what of all this for us today? Where does this leave our looking
forward and back? The Church of
England stands on the edge of momentous decisions about the future shape fo the
Episcopate. The Diocese of
Winchester, with its new bishops, faces the challenge of being church in the 21<sup>st</sup>
Century, here, in this place.
Bishop Tim challenges us to do this with passionate personal
spirituality, pioneering faith communities and prophetic global citizens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">And here, in the Cathedral, it is easy to look
backwards. There is a marvelous
history here, stories of people and buildings, tantalizingly and magnificently
hinted at in the Chronicles of Light, where only a few of them could be told. But there is a present – of people to
be reached, of Gospel to be lived out.
And a future to be dreamed of and prophesied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">But let Jeremiah and John serve as examples to
us. They prophesied, they shared
the Word of God into their context.
But they listened attentively to what was going on around them, to the
dominant and minor discourses.
What happens here, in this place if we do the same? What happens if we listen to the city,
to the people, and at the same time, listen attentively to God? If we all listen, we will surely
hear. And what happens if we
respond to the voice of God that we jointly discern – prayerfully,
passionately, and prophetically? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Look backward, but not too hard. Pay great attention to the present
moment, for in it we find God. And
move forward confidently, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the
Holy Spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Amen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Clairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01843741056826109004noreply@blogger.com3