The Final Furlong

One does not need to be appalled at the behaviour of paedophile priests, or the alleged covering up of such behaviour by church authorities, to find the Church an increasingly difficult organisation to deal with. Not only does it develop arcane and convoluted systems that people outside don't understand, but it seems that very often the people on the inside who operate the systems don't understand them either.

Nothing is more certain than the fact that on a regular basis clergy will leave parishes and other clergy will arrive. is there any system to make sure this happens smoothly? What do you think? i can't find out how to make sure that the phone number stays the same for my successor (This didn't happen when I came. The phone number, having been the same since Adam was a lad, was suddenly different, and everyone was very lost for the best part of two years).

How does one actually resign?

Before Christmas:

Archdeacon: You'll need to sign a Deed of Resignation, at least two months before you finish, so that the formal processes of finding a successor can begin.
Me: I don't think I do that, as I'm not the incumbent and don't have the Freehold.
Arch: No, you do. it's just the same.

This week:
Me (in phone call to Archdeacon's office): The paperwork for my Deed of Resignation hasn't arrived. What do I do?
Secretary: I'll get back to you.
(Later)
Sec: You don't need a Deed of Resignation, as you are not the incumbent and don't have the Freehold.
Me: I said that before Christmas!
Sec: Have you sent the bishop your licence for him to cancel it?
Me: No.
Sec: Well you'd better do that this week, otherwise things could be held up.
Me (after putting the phone down): Aaaaaarrrrrrggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

While I've been away

While I've been away from the blog, a number of things have happened. Here is a quick resume.In October the balance of my mind was sufficiently disturbed to be signed off sick. This went on for weeks. I couldn't read. I couldn't write. I missed Christmas. Lots of snow fell, and we were on the boat so we got frozen in, which was fun. I did lots of dog walking, and slept hours and hours on end. I have now been given approval to retire at the end of May. My mind is not quite so disturbed.

While all that was happening the Church of England stumbled on in its inimitable way. Two things in particular convince me that it is time to go. Last summer, while everyone was tripping round the country on staycations and going to each others churches, it was decreed by the archbishops that we should distribute communion in one kind only, ie. no chalice. This is something that has never happened since Henry VIII managed to come up with a sane and wise decree for once, ordering that communion in England should be in both kinds. It has never been suspended since then. The plague, Spanish flu, Hong Kong flu, AIDS, none of these led the Church to take such a decision. This was supposed to be our response to swine flu. It was no doubt inspired by the Archbishop of York, always on the look out for a way onto breakfast TV or the One Show. It didn't work. Each diocese interpreted it differently, some strictly, some not at all. Clergy came back from holidays to find chaos in their churches. People got very upset and some blamed their vicar. The whole thing eventually got dropped.

The second thing that happened was that a new marriage application form was introduced to reflect the changes in the Marriage Measure 2008 (Google it if you really want to know). The previous form had been in use for the whole of my thirty six year ministry, and probably longer. One side of a piece of paper, it didn't even acknowledge the invention of the telephone. If you wanted to ring the couple during the preparation period, you had to remember to write their phone number in the box mysteriously marked "For Clergy Use Only". The new form is available to download, of course, and runs to five pages and four sections, with lots of instructions on how to fill it in.

Definitely time to go.

While unending ages run

Two cathedral services on consecutive Sundays; that's some kind of record for me these days. the seond one was an ordination, and much better than the previous event. OK, the vestments had seen better days, and one of the senior clerics looked like he was wrapped in the living room carpet; and the sermon was, shall we say, a little retro- one wondered if the developments in ministerial theory and practice of the last forty years had actually happened. Also, there was major restoration and stonework going on, so the chancel was full of red and white cones and plastic barriers, festooned with health and safety notices, so it was a bit like worshipping on an M25 contraflow; but hey!we all had a great time, all the candidates were radiant, the sun shone and we were out in just over an hour and a half!

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.

I got picked up by the Mormons

Oh missus! That must have been painful! Make your eyes water, that would! Yes, yes, enough. I really was subject to an evangelistic approach by the Latter Day Saints. On Peterborough station in broad daylight. It was bit creepy, because the guy was young, American, and quite hunky. i thought at first this was some kind of bold-as-brass gay pick-up thing. Then I noticed the LDS label on his shirt pocket. By then we were already into the routine. It went like this.

Hunky Latter Day Saint Evangelist- That's a nice hat.
Me- Thank you.
HLDSE- Is it foreign?
Me- No, it's English. It's an Osprey.
HLDSE- It suits you.
Me- Thanks.
HLDSE- Do you think about God at all?
Me- Some.
HLDSE- Would you like to see my church?
Me- No, I'm getting this train to Birmingham New Street.
HLDSE- So am I!
Me- But I'm going to be in a different carriage. Goodbye.

What I didn't learn from my emails today

We have a new bishop, announced with great fanfares and flummery to a small crowd in the market square. The email to "undisclosed recipients" seemed to suggest that we should all go along and have sandwiches and join the press conference. Goodness knows who or how many received this. The Church of England always seems to think that the world is hanging on its every word and waiting with baited breath for its announcements, but, sad to say, this has not been my experience. Apart from the two archbishops and, perhaps, Durham and London, nobody seems much bothered who the new bishops are, and the names won't mean much to most people, except present colleagues and their mates and families.

Then "undisclosed recipients" got another message saying that there would be "plenty of room" so do come along. Oh dear.

What I didn't learn from my emails was what I really wanted to know, which was the man's name. If he's going to be my bishop, it would be nice to be informed. Another email arrived, warning of the need to protect our silverware and our lead flashing, with a note at the bottom to the effect that if we wanted to know the name of the new bishop, it would be on the diocesan website shortly. Well thanks.

What I learnt from my emails today

We got our directives on swine flu today, telling us what to do if the pandemic really kicks off. Wash your hands after touching parishioners, if any members of the congregation start coughing and sneezing, take them out immediately and dispose of them properly, that sort of thing (no, not really, silly!) I had Hong Kong flu in 1968. I had just left school and started work. I was in bed for three weeks; never felt so rough. But I taught myself to play the guitar while I was sitting there. So that's good.

1,000,000 United Against BNP

In the meantime, here's a link to 1,000,000 United Against BNP, a fast-growing Facebook group. There's over 550,000 members so far, and you might consider helping it to grow even faster.

Table Manners

We have a eucharist in church on Friday mornings. it's market day, and people are arou nd , and seven or eight of us usually gather in the prayer chapel. This Firday there were two visitors in church. he introduced himself as a retired minister. He asked if there was a service and I said yes, do please join us. I didn't say that it wasn't me taking the service.

When we began, as soon as they saw that a woman was presiding, their demeanour changed, and when it came to communion, they stayed seated with arms resolutely folded and refuksed to receive. As the celebrant left, the woman said, audibly, "Well that was disappointing!"

What sort of people are these, to be so rude, to be offered the fellowship of our table, and then refuse it? Do they go to people's homes and refuse to eat what is put in front of them? Do they want to know in advance who has prepared it? Shame on you both.

My Lord, what a morning! 2

A million people vote for fascism, and what is the Church doing? Arguing about the furniture. Well, it is here, at least. The nave altar again. Where to put it, when to move it, what occasions to use, when not to use it. The big change - eastward facing altar of sacrifice to westward facing table of fellowship - has already been achieved, without too much bloodshed, thirty years ago. Same table, you see, and only a few feet either way. But a different table, some thirty feet away... it's a step too far. Most of you haven't a clue what I'm on about, have you? And I do wonder myself.

Some years ago the BNP threatened to march through the city where I worked. i was the Chair of the local Racial Equality Council. We organised to oppose the march. Some, not all, of the churches joined us. The march was called off.

One morning I got a phone call from a bored-sounding policeman.

- Don't want to alarm you, sir, he said.
-I'm already alarmed, I replied.
-Might be a good idea to check under your car in the morning. And don't open suspicious packages. Just as a precaution, you understand.
- Sure, I said.

I had got myself onto a white supremacist death list, apparently. Nothing came of it, of course. I'm still here.

I used to work in a sector ministry, which the Church of England, in its genteel way, called "social responsibility" The Catholics, more direct, called their guys "justice and peace workers". Anyway, one time I was booked to speak to a deanery group in a town in the north west of England. There had been riots, racially motivated, for several days; cars burned, barricades, that sort of thing. The day of the meeting the rural dean rang me and told me that I was not required to attend, that the meeting had been cancelled. Nothing on the agenda.

My Lord, what a morning!

Yesterday it was bucketing down all day. The choir chose to sing the Negro spiritual "My Lord, what a morning!" as we shivered and rung out our coats and stashed our umbrellas at the back of church.

Today; another morning. i seem to live in a country where nearly a million voters are prepared to vote for a party defined only by what it is against, what it would destroy, what it wants to stop. No positive agenda at all. The British Nasty Party might make you feel better in the short term, but it won't do you any good in the long term.

They came for the Jews, and I said nothing, because I am not a Jew. They came for the blacks, and again, I said nothing, because I am not black. They came for the communists, and again i said nothing, because I am not a communist. then one night, they came for me. And there was no-one left to speak up for me.

Free the Spirit

Anglicans letting their hair down always look slightly awkward. The congregation this morning at our united deanery celebration tried their best to say "Hey, look at us, we're relaxed, happening dudes!" but the fact that a lot of the men were in suits and ties on a stinking hot day didn't help. But... a cracking sermon from our bishop, though. I know you don't read that often on this blog, so I'll say it again; a good sermon by our bishop. Here is the gist of it.

Pentecost celebrates the gift of the Holy Spirit, poured out on the disciples in tongues of fire and a howling wind. Strange things were happening. People from many different nationalities understood one another. How could this be? It was because they communicated in one or other of the universal languages; of tears, because we all know what suffering is like; of laughter and fooling around, because being funny is something we can all appreciate; of music, because we can all recognise a tune; or of creativity, because we can all enjoy colour and shape and design. It is words that divide us. It is ideas, theories and doctrines that drown us.

If only the rest of us could have come up to scratch. Two people walked out, appalled by free liturgy. The rest of us tried hard to relax. I remember the Private Eye spoof Church of England liturgical rubric; If a spontaneous act is to take place, it should happen at this point.

A little dog ran in during the sermon. It trotted round, wagging its tail and thinking what fun it would be to play with all these people. A sidesperson collared it and threw it out.

Thank you Rabbi Blue!

i should be writing, but don't feel up to it. Let the wonderful Rabbi Lionel Blue express at least some of it on my behalf, in another marvellous radio Thought for the Day. I'm off to see my mother, who sounds like she's fading away; to a reunion with the class of sixty-something, and a retirement "do" and church service, both of which should be filling me with joy but somehow aren't. Maybe next week.

Dignity at Work

I see that I haven’t posted under my “roaring” label for a couple of months. Does that mean all is well? Well, no not really. I’m just trying to get on with the rest of my life. Last week a couple of barbed comments after church included the statements “You priests are supposed to be the most caring people in the world, but you don’t care really!” and “You have ruined our church with that thing!” (a nave altar, approved experimentally by a large majority of the church council), plus the inevitable “lots of people feel the same way; I’m the only one who will say anything!” Not easy to relax in people’s company when that sort of thing can come at you out of the blue. Doesn’t make me want to go to a social event, or stick around drinking coffee after Sunday services.

Several things occur to me. First, most of you don’t know me. Maybe I am uncaring. Maybe I really am “lazy”. Perhaps I should just accept that I’m “unpopular”. I can tell you that I say my prayers, put in the hours, prepare worship carefully, follow up pastoral requests, spend time on my sermons, seem to get on well with people. But you don’t know.

And there is inconsistency here too. For example, I don’t think that I can both “force through” unpopular ideas and “railroad” the church council, as well as being “weak and vacillating”. Words like “steam-rolling” generally indicate the attitude of the speaker towards the event, policy or project; no-one describes the idea of a visit to Iona or setting up a childrens holiday club as having been “steam-rollered”, yet it gets far less consideration or discussion than a nave altar. (The words in quotes have all been addressed to me in public or private by members of one congregation during the past year.)

I’ve read through the Church of England report “Dignity at Work”, which came out last year but doesn’t seem to have seen much of the light of day since then. It offers the following definition of “unacceptable behaviour”:

“Any behaviour always involving a misuse of power which an individual or group knows, or ought reasonably to know, could have the potential effect of offending, humiliating, intimidating or isolating an individual or group”.

The suggestions put forward in the report, all about policies and discussions in synods and councils, and the appointment of advisors and arbitrators, are all fine in so far as they go. But at the end of the day, conscientious and caring individuals trying to do difficult and demanding work can be left in very isolated situations amongst people who do not behave well towards them. And, as I’ve said before, it is shameful that the Church is having to take advice from, and use models developed by, secular voluntary organizations and trade unions, when it should instead be offering a beacon of good practice to the world.

At least “Dignity at Work” takes a stronger position than one colleague who I began to talk to about what I was experiencing. He told me “the role of the priest is to be crucified”. I utterly reject that view. I know too that ministers have to be prepared to be “lightning conductors” for all kinds of bad stuff that people project at times of bereavement or crisis; but that should not be given as a general excuse for bad behaviour.

It’s not just me. We have a curate, who has tried out lots of imaginative new ideas and new ways of doing things, only to be told, in effect, we don’t want that sort of thing here. The treasurer said in finance committee that if the council voted to fund her project, he would resign (railroading?) When we had problems with the heating system last year, and when the sound system wasn’t working properly, people were wagging their fingers in the faces of the volunteer church officers responsible for these things. We’re not likely to find replacements for those who quite understandably get fed up with that sort of treatment. It’s time it stopped.

Another one bites the dust (possibly)

Front page in a local paper in west Wales is the story of the priest who has published plans for a major re-ordering of the church, in the face of opposition from many on the town, some on the local council, and even a number of his own church council. Brave, brave man. It's one thing to take on bureaucracy and the media, but quite another to have to watch your back too. One church members comment was "Numbers are falling, so I don't see why this development is necessary!" The priest was jeered in a public meeting recently.

I have visited a remarkable town centre church in the West Midlands a number of times. A superb re-ordering, with everything one could wish for for a modern worshipping environment, except ... the priest who had the vision and battled to bring it in. He had a breakdown and left the ministry before it was finished.

BUT ... I have an Escape Strategy, and these posts will henceforth be more about that, and less about the stuff I shall enjoy leaving behind.

This is it

Of course when I say "This is It" I don't mean that the Roar is just about one incident, or that all I'm doing is going over some stuff that happened years ago. There's an accumulation of discontent here, and it eventually builds to such an extent that it cannot be ignored. There is a diocesan matter, not involving me, and now closed, about which I have felt very strongly, but to write about it would make my situation easily identifiable, and I don't want that. Similarly, a matter concerning the behaviour of our county council about which I've had a lot to say. Once disengaged from something, it becomes very difficult to re-engage. Plus I'm quite enjoying planning my future! So enough of all that! More cheerful posts to come I hope!

It's all about control 2

More on the Church of England report “Dignity at Work” from the Church Times a few months ago (regular readers know I don’t read the church press too often, so it takes me a while to catch up!)

Rachael Maskell, the national officer of UNITE, which has 2500 members in its faith-workers section, and helped to draw up the report, said on Wednesday that it deals with about 50 cases each year involving clergy who have been bullied. “Unfortunately, it is not uncommon to find bullying in the Church, and the Church needs to respond to this. We believe it has a moral responsibility to those who are bullied.”

She welcomed the suggestion of employing harassment advisers, and said that clergy who tried to implement change were often targeted by individuals in congregations who opposed them. “The Church hasn’t always been supportive enough of individuals who have been bullied, and we hope the report will change that.”

Dave Walker’s blog suggests that the report was hard to find on the Church of England website. I wonder how many dioceses are giving it space and publicity in synods, etc, and have plans to introduce its recommendations? No sign of it on our website when I checked. Googling “diocesan harassment advisors” or “anti-bullying policies” or similar does not produce much after coverage of the release of the report and press articles. But maybe someone out there knows different.

Anti-bullying Week 2008

I know of course that Anti-Bullying Week 2008 is just ending in the UK. I meant to mention it at the end of that post, but missed it off. Go to this link. There are many similar websites, many of which focus, quite rightly, on young people, but there is some relevant stuff for adults. Then there is the very brave and wonderful Andrea Adams, just featured on Radio 4 Saturday Live while I'm writing this. You can go to her website here.

It's all about control

The phone rang at lunchtime. One of the church officers, to say could I go round, as she wanted a word about something. I said I would go in half an hour, as I had something to finish first. I didn’t have anything to finish. I needed the half hour in order to get myself in to a frame of mind to go over and talk to her. I spent the time in an anxious, agitated state. My pulse was racing, my heart was pounding, I was distracted and unable to think clearly. Then I went round to see her. It was a trivial and day-to-day matter, and no problem. But I had instantly seen the thing as a crisis, as a challenge, as a confrontation.

Just over twelve months ago, another church officer and I had fixed to meet to discuss some routine business. When I got there, I found we were alone in the house and he told me that he didn’t want to discuss the matters we had arranged. What did he want? He wanted to tell me exactly what he thought of me and of my ministry. And let’s just say he hadn’t taken the trouble to get me round there to tell me what a good, hard-working fellow I was. I listened, and left. I came home, laid on the bed and thought. And thought. And this is a Myers Briggs ISTJ remember. If you know your theory, you know that we catastrophise like nobody’s business. When a crisis breaks it’s nothing less than the end of the world as we know it. If you’re lucky. I carried on thinking. And then I slept. And then I got up. And I got organized.

The next day, somehow, I had the presence of mind to do at least some of the things that you are advised to do when bullying takes place in the workplace. I wrote an account of what had taken place and what had been said. I wrote a response to each of the points he had made, as I remembered them. I sent him a copy of my account and asked him to go through it and respond to it. He refused to do that and denied it all, of course. I told my other church officers what had happened, and also my bishop, and sent the accounts to them too. In no time, he was saying that none of this had happened, or if it had, he had not meant it to sound like it did, or if it had sounded like that, that was my misinterpretation of what had happened. In other words, I was to blame. No action was taken against him. He still holds the same post on the church council. I have managed to get some sort of working relationship back, for the sake of the church, but I never meet him alone.

Most bullying support groups will tell you that bullying is about two things; projection, and control. I’m sure that’s true. But it doesn’t help me either to understand, or to cope, just because I know what was going on. I was bullied at school. I’d come round the corner in the playground, and there’d be three big kids waiting to knock me flying. I had my homework taken out of my bag and torn up and trampled in the dirt. It took me a long time to get over it. You may wonder why I ended up in one of the least understood, often barely tolerated, most commonly ridiculed professions. I don’t know. I used to walk through the streets of one city where I worked, and have to listen to catcalls and stupid comments from passers-by, including once, memorably, a man walking along holding his small child by the hand. One day a tradesman took the trouble to slow his van down as he was passing me, wound the window down and called out “More tea, vicar? Heh, heh, heh!” Why? Who knows. Projection and control.

Hey, I hear you say. Get a grip. Get real. You’re not facing martyrdom or something, like so many. True. But does that make it acceptable, mean that I have to put up with it? Because I’m damned if I’m going to.

Now, those childhood incidents come back to me. I’m very angry that my past can come back at me, all these years later. Now I’m standing at the church door saying goodbye and wondering which of these people is going to have a go and wag a finger in my face because of what I’VE done making changes to THEIR church, or because they didn’t know the hymns or the sound system isn’t working properly. Projection and control again. I’m very angry that this man can think that he can behave like that, and that I can do nothing to counter his behaviour. While I might accept pastorally that the need is with him, that this is because of some problem he is facing, in my heart I am simply furious that my trust is abused, my work rubbished, my good name impugned. I would like to hit him. I have said several times that I would try to explain what this Withdrawing, this Roar is all about. This is it.

A couple of weeks ago a priest not too far from here announced to his parish that he was leaving, and stated the reason; that it had become impossible for him to stay, because of a sustained campaign against him, which included phone calls, letters and emails, from a group within the congregation. These were not anonymous calls and letters. They were bold enough to put their names to stuff. Now he is leaving, and going to a parish a very long way from here. His wife was said to have had enough of the Church, but has gone with him. Presumably they have no choice, no alternative employment, no way of finding somewhere to live. I can’t see why they would continue otherwise. Perhaps their faith is stronger than mine.

The Society of Mary and Martha at Sheldon and a number of individual researchers and writers have done the Church a great service through their work on clergy stress and burnout. I believe there is a similar piece of work now waiting to be done on harassment and bullying in ministry. If I worked in a benefits office or a supermarket or a pub, there would be a sign over the bar or by my desk or on my till: “Our staff have the right work without the threat of verbal or physical abuse”. Ministers have no such protection. Most of our church members, and our bishops/ superintendents/ superiors, have no idea that this goes on. Most would never dream of doing this sort of thing to anyone. But some do.

Helping people to understand and to challenge this behaviour is really important. If you have been bullied in the workplace, get help. Take a look at this story from Australia. My experience is nowhere near as bad. But that doesn’t make it right or acceptable. What to do? This link is a good place to start.

Since all this happened to me, the Church of England has brought out a report "Dignity at Work" and guidelines, which contains some good stuff. Doesn't look like it helped my friend down the road though.

I'm off (duty)

I’m finding I need a break from duties every week now, whereas before I could take a couple of days every other week. This is all a bit odd, as I haven’t done it for years. Also, people’s reactions are rather strange. On those sort of committees where you must record your absence and the reason why you’re not there, I noticed that someone had said I was on a “family holiday”. Would people in ordinary jobs describe their average weekend as “family holiday”? I don’t think so. Then on another set of minutes someone had said that I had “felt the need to” have a day off. Do people in other professions only have time off when they “feel the need to”? I’m sure they don’t. I should not work more than two sessions per day, though I do. I should not work up to 60 hours, 6 days a week, though I frequently do. I should not have to justify being off duty for two evenings and one whole day, for no apparent reason whatsoever, though it seems to be expected. But I won’t.