Consubstantial coeternal

I went off to the cathedral for the bishop's farewell. They are often very moving occasions. I remember one where, at the end of a wonderful service, the bishop simple took off his beautiful colourful vestments, and left the building informally just in his white alb, holding hands with his wife smiling and chatting. (Free at last! Free at Last! Thank God, free at last!) I was hopeful of something like this, but was somewhat disappointed.

On arrival, the organ was already thundering. Now I'm OK with most organ music, and I like quiet organ background when people are coming in, so that we can get ready for worship quietly. This guy had all the stops out already. This meant that the assembling congregation greeted one another with cheery bellowing, and yelled at their friends across the aisles. Boys with their toys. A small man with a big organ. This did not put me in a good mood for what followed.

We went along at a cracking pace to start with. This was encouraging, as I don't like the current Anglican trend that if something is considered important, it must take a long time. The sermon was amazing, preached by the outgoing bishop, but all about priorities for the future, as if he had only just arrived, rather than he was finishing in two days time.

When we got to the offertory, things took a turn for the worse. As well as the customary elements of bread and wine for the eucharist, and the collected offerings of the people, a set of garden furniture appeared. The bishop, in full eucharist vestments,was seated rather self-consciously on a cedarwood recliner, with his wife sitting awkwardly beside him. Speeches of appreciation then began. Cheques were handed over. More thanks. Then a reply by the bishop. One and half hours, and we had not yet reached the consecration.

Things slowed to a crawl. Even in a parish church the Anglican way of distributing communion can take a long time. In a cathedral it can seem like an eternity. At one point a woman with a small crying baby went past. Blimey, I thought. people are being born and dying while we're all in here!

After more than two hours I'd almost lost the will to live. At the end, against a background of blaring organ, everyone was lining up to leave by one door, and having a word with the retiring couple on the way out, like one of those wedding receptions where everyone is filing in to the marquee, dying for a drink, but you have to say hello to the happy couple and the parents first. It was going to take at least another half an hour to get out that way, so I scouted round the back and found another exit, out into the cloisters for some air, and a bit of peace and quiet.