Alone

Greetings,

Not too long ago I arrived in church purposely early to prepare for an evening service where it is unusual to get numbers higher than single figures. The familiar noise of the lock on the huge door which gains entry to back of house delights of St Matthews Burnley is becoming more familiar as the early months of ordained life pass. My familiarity with the place doesn’t quite extend beyond the front door though and so I scramble around in the darkness and mistakenly switch on the light to the cold toilet area that is frequented by some of Lancashire’s finest spiders and a rotating hand towel. I find the correct switch and the electrical currents kick into life fighting to illuminate the fluorescent tubes and bulbs that have been idle most of the cold and autumnal day that has just passed. The light arouses unusual sounds, almost making me feel I am not alone as I enter the vestry to seek out another light which is located where you wouldn’t put a light switch in any normal light switch locating circumstances.

Thursday night is our 7 o’clock Communion service and one of my favorite times of the working week. We don’t expect huge numbers and rarely are our expectations exceeded but it doesn’t matter, I don’t think our purpose is anything other than to celebrate Mass and welcome those that choose to join us. In the ever quickening world outside this Holy building the 30 minutes of worship is as important as all the other services where numbers usually exceed our Thursday night gathering. The atmosphere the church creates particularly as the nights draw in is very special and one I find deeply spiritual.

The vestry is full of history and I’m sure the walls could tell a thousand stories and a few more. I’m unsure what colour the walls are but if I had to take a shot I’d go for ‘off’ yellow, yellow! I draw back the curtains that unveils the most extensive vestment collection I have come across in my infant years of ministry, there is more linen than a Premier Inn wash house. It is an impressive collection of outfits that would rival a night at The Palladium with Shirley Bassey. If you need it we have it, Cassocks, Stoles, Alb’s, Girdles, Copes, Dalmatics, all words and outfits that were completely alien to me just a few years ago but I now feel quite comfortable ‘dressing up’ and looking my best for worshiping God. Among the choices are Red, Purple, Black, White, Green and even salmon coloured vestments filling the long rail and eventually I come to my own little gap which I seem to have acquired for myself. Thursday night is pretty straight forward, Cassock, Alb, Stole, usually in that order and so I dig out what is required in preparation for the Eucharist. I have no need to venture into our vestment drawer which homes many more wonderful vestments and even more cotton, the vestment drawer is for another time but equally as impressive as the rail.

 As I climb into my cassock like Jenson Button getting into his racing gear the smell of the vestry is apparent, reassuringly churchy and a mixture of homeliness, similar to the warmth of an elderly relatives front room with a hint of dampness in the pantry. It’s a rather nice aroma and one that I guess has been around longer than the choir! After ’climbing in’ and ‘doing up’ the final button of the cassock a quick look in the mirror indicates all is well and off I trot to prepare things for the few that may join us on this cold October evening. As I respectfully gene flex  before the alter, I am reminded of the wear and tear a man my age suffers as I feel my back creaking as I return to the upright position.  I track down and execute the switching on of yet more lights and the darkness of the church is replaced with gentle yet effective lighting that turns the sleeping high altar into the majestic and beautiful showpiece for the evenings main attraction. I stand and stare for a moment, it looks more beautiful each time I have the privilege of getting things ready.

As I look out from the high alter, I contemplate the craftsmanship, the stonework, the windows, the joinery and consider myself very fortunate to be working in such a special environment. Just for a moment I think about all that has gone before me in this space, the congregations, the families, the weddings, the Baptisms, the thousands and thousands of people that would have received the bread and wine. And the clergy, all those reverend people who have served God at St Matthews and if I like or not I now become part of that history until the walls no longer stand. I step down from the alter and say a small prayer of thanksgiving. 

Most things have been already done for me by a loyal member of the congregation and so I am left to light the candles which I do with great care mindful of not wanting to burn the place down before anyone arrives, I stand back and again take a look, the fine-looking high alter had just got that little bit more attractive. I turn and walk away, I get an optimistic double figure number of service books from the aging book rack and place them in a suitable place in case we get a run on newcomers. I open the double side door and illuminate yet more lights to ensure people can arrive and depart in relative safety. 

That’s it all jobs done and so I wait for either the Vicar to arrive or the congregation and just double check all is well. I again approach the high altar, check all is present and turn around  once  more to look out at this partly lit church and contemplate its beauty and its purpose.
Snapping out of it, I take a few steps and choose to sit in my Curate stall and spend a few moments in silent prayer. As I sit I shudder as a cold chill grips me for a moment and then I settle down. I close my eyes to be perfectly still but this big old building offers some strange sounds placing another shred of doubt in my mind that I am not alone. 

Eventually all is quiet, and then a moment of nothingness is broken by what sounds like teenagers passing by on route to whatever the evening has in store for the youth of today. They pass quickly and before I can gather my thoughts the noise is replaced with the distant sound of an emergency service, at first far away but gradually gets closer. Rather than pass it is joined by another ‘nee, nor’ almost in perfect synchronisation yet is different to the first leading me to conclude something slightly serious may be occurring not too far away. Both sounds pass and then it is still. I close my eyes and say the Lord’s Prayer, Our Father……………… and I ask God to look after those who are driving the emergency vehicles and those who will be receiving them.

I get up walk to the front door, nobody here yet so I turn around and see the candles that are for people to light, in memory of a loved ones or an occasion.  For just a second I think of my Dad, and for the first time I light a candle in his memory. I smile as I light the tea light and I wonder what he would say to me right now. I return to my stall to wait for others to arrive, I do some essential housekeeping on my stall as I left it all rather untidy after evening prayer some ninety minutes before hand. I think, I think, I think, A new life of prayer service and worship is proving to be all I expected and more…..

The clank of the door occurs, I don’t know for certain but I am entirely accurate in my assumption it is the Vicar, It is time to do God’s work…………….

Till next time, peace and love with you all,

Alextheanglican 

Baps and Bagels.

Oh hello it’s been a while!

So there I was looking at the baps and bagels in the reduced tray In Tesco shortly after Morning Prayer at church when I realized the error of my ways.

I entered the aircraft hangar commonly known as Tesco Burnley at the request of my good lady to get some toilet rolls and burger buns mindful that quality produce was necessary, as one was for eating and the other  for………. Well anyway as I traversed the travellator I checked all the essentials were in place, you know wallet, keys, phone, wallet, keys, phone, wallet, keys, phone ensuring that my double check has been complimented with a third and final check  reassuring  to one selves wellbeing that all was in order. But when I checked the money situation I was surprised yet delighted to find an extra ten pound note I didn’t know I had which was very pleasing which indeed led me to explore the attractiveness of a Tesco’s reduced bakery counter on a Monday morning.

I was feeling quite content after negotiating a rather busy period in my early weeks of ministry and this was the first diary free morning in some time. I have been doing all sorts of things of late and the variety in the job has been really great. I have been set free to baptise people without supervision something  that is a lovely marker in the sand to be entrusted to do something that is a special event in so many people’s lives. It is really an experience to be experienced and if I can offer a word of wisdom if you have an impending Baptism it would be for the ladies to wear at least a knee length skirt and not to eat crisps as the consequences of both can be quite off putting. 

Wearing the dog collar most of the time means meeting lots of wonderful characters like the lady who collared me whilst I was walking the dog, who gave me her interpretation of the Holy Spirit which was ‘interesting; and something I had not experienced in any text book or theological institution. When she asked what I thought, I was diplomatic and said, ‘Well, The Holy Spirit means many different things to many different people’ as I quickly took a pathway opposite to her and one I didn’t intend to go down!  Or the man or thought my Christian nature could extend to running him to Sainsbury’s because he was tired or the neighbour who inadvertently slips the name of Jesus into lots of our conversations like, ‘Jesus, things are well expensive’ or ‘Jesus, I’ve been so busy’. 

And the joy of being ordained is still wonderful but not without difficulty, like losing the skills of a life time in retail is not easy, being the new boy and learning new practices and new ways of working is unsettling and challenging but also fun even if you end up feeling a bit foolish from time to time. For example how daft do you think I felt when I asked of the Vicar, ‘Erm where do the green vestments go’? To which came the response came, ‘In the drawer that says green vestments’! Or speaking at the wrong time, or getting so engrossed in a service only to realise that you are the only person in the church still standing and everybody is looking on at you in a caring sympathetic and loving manner.  

At a recent harvest service I was rather tickled by the accuracy of a young boy leading a procession of infants back to school who waved at the Vicar and I and shouted, ‘Bye by you Christians’ to which the Vicar replied, ‘Yes that’s what we are, Bye by’. Or the little child who randomly told me in the middle of a lesson on the Egyptians in great detail what he was getting for Christmas!  It really is great fun going into the school where the children make me smile immensely.

One thing about being a Deacon is that the choice of wardrobe becomes quite simple the only thing that isn’t black these days is the collar and the underpants and if I’m that way inclined sometimes it’s just the collar that is white! That’s the stylish autonomy being ordained affords you, gone are the days when one could wear white socks to work! I fear my Anglo Catholic curacy is rubbing off on me as on a couple of training events I got the feeling people would be disappointed if I wasn’t dressed in traditional clergy wear although I am tempted to shock everyone by rocking up in a yellow shirt and black dog collar one of these days! It’s surprising though even though 99% of the time I dress and look like a vicar how many people ask ‘Are you a Vicar’? Frankly I can’t be bothered explaining the different level of Holy orders and so the generic answer is usually, Yes although I am tempted to say something like ‘no I am not actually I’m on a one man stag do’ !

Anyway where was I? Oh yes looking at the baps and bagels in Tesco. Well nothing took my fancy, the mass of Monday morning chapatti’s that were reduced to 29p didn’t inspire me enough to make a purchase and so turned on my heels and headed for the bottom wiping range a quarter of mile down the store on isle 724 ! On commencing the trip and considering breaking the journey up with a look at the fresh meat counter the realisation of what I done struck me! Ten pounds in my pocket, ten pounds in my pocket, why have I got ten pounds in my pocket????

My dear wife had kindly asked me the night before to get these items of shopping along with getting myself some much needed fuel for my little Chevrolet Aveo. And there it was fuel for my Chevrolet Aveo that was the moment when my whole future life flashed before my eyes. I had a vision of being locked away for life, stripped of my Holy orders and disowned by my family and new church community I would never fulfil the dream of being the Archbishop of Canterbury by the age of 47.

Alex what have you done?

SO the night before I got the fuel for my Chevrolet Aveo and as my wife instructed me I got some money out of the cash machine and entered the Spar garage intent on getting some rolls for our burgers and rolls for our bottoms, plus some carrots for our Guinea pigs but on entering, disappointedly the spar could only provide one of the three items I required, and there it was I turned around and left the shop completely forgetting I had put ten pounds of fuel in my Chevrolet Aveo .

As I negotiated the long walk to the loo rolls my anxiety increased I was almost sprinting to the isle and through the checkout, I dived in the car and did a risky 31 in a 30 zone in my haste to get to the garage before the police, police dogs, CID, anti-terrorism squad and so on and so on. When I got there I was relieved her majesty’s boys in blue were not in situe, all things were very quiet as I sheepishly entered the garage.

A voice said ‘I know why you’re here Father’ as she smiled at me. ‘Do you?’ I replied. ‘Yes, I saw you looking at the vegetables last night and walk out and get in your car and drive off’ she said. ‘Did you?’ I replied. To which she responded ‘Yes I did, and I knew you would be back’. ‘Did you’? I replied.

I was mortified the staff was highly amused, I asked to speak to the manager, in fact I was ready to plead with the board, the chairman and the shareholders of the Texaco empire to plead for forgiveness. Fortunately that wasn’t going to be necessary and I paid my debts and left the store with a sense of utter relief that Britain’s finest constabulary weren’t going to stalk out the house in preparation for a dawn raid!

So there we have it, the trainee Vicar continues to land himself in daft and crazy situations, thank God our creator has a sense of humour!

Till next time

May your God go with you?

Alextheanglican x