Seeking life inside the bubble

In my previous blog post (A man who doesn’t have it all) I wrote about how certain questions and conversations can be unique to certain groups – in that post I wrote about how asking what it’s like to be a male priest is not itself sexist and can indeed be a helpful question to ask.  Recently I returned from a Retreat for Ordinands and their families, and it presented a parallel: sometimes it is good to live inside a bubble with people like you.

‘Being in a bubble’ is something labeled against residential theological colleges, often in a negative sense.  There, people with and without spouses, partners and children live, study and worship together on and off-site.  The negative associations come from the view that the bubble isolates them from the ‘real world’, from the people working jobs to pay the bills, from the people the bubble-dwellers are training to serve.  This is, of course, a sweeping generalisation and takes no account of whether those inside the bubble engage with live outside of it or not.  

I recently got to spend 4 days inside the bubble, and it was glorious – I was at an Ordinands’ Retreat run by Lee Abbey in North Devon.  What made this special was not the presence of so many ordinands but the presence of their families, and it made me realise just what was missing from my training.

Throughout my ‘Discernment Process’ the heaviest weight I carried was the impact the pursuit of my calling would have on my family – it is a constant theme running through my blog posts during that time (see Exploring Ordination).  As it turned out, when I came to train the impact on my family was minimal.  The Church of England’s age-focused training and funding meant that I went to a non-residential training; each member of the family stayed put in their jobs, schools, friendships and community and it was only me who was introduced to the occasional visits to theological college.

But whilst both my training college and church is preparing me for life as a curate, neither are preparing my children and wife.  Non-residential colleges may attempt to involve families but the very nature of their training and funding makes such involvement difficult.  By necessity, the weekends I do stay at college are packed full of lectures designed to meet the needs of the curates-to-be, not their families. 

The Ordinands’ Retreat with families at Lee Abbey proved how valuable fellowship is with similar people living and preparing for similar things.  There were ordinands across the age spectrum from multiple colleges.  There ordinands on their own, ordinands with spouses or partners, ordinands with children.  Each person unique and different, yet having something in common: they were all preparing for a life of ordained ministry.

Lee Abbey’s programme was perfect too.  My wife and I were inspired by the talks Bishop Nick Baines gave, and my children had fun in their activities; but it was in the space between the talks and activities that proved to be most powerful.  In the space families and generations stayed together, separated and mixed.  Each person got to spend time with someone of their own type, children with children, spouses with spouses, ordinands with ordinands, but they also got to spend time with people like members of their family.  Parallels and commonalities could be seen. Questions could be asked and answered.  Experiences could be shared.  We were in the bubble, and we thanked God for it.

There are pros and cons to both residential and non-residential training for ordination, and this post is not one extolling the virtues of one over another because frankly neither is terrible and neither is perfect, and also because I’ve already written about it before (see A Tribal Sales Pitch).  Non-residential training has proved to be good: working kept me connected to the world I would be leaving to serve, and being placed in a church for the majority of my training is giving me experience of building and living in a church community for over 3 years.  And it has been good for my family too: they have appreciated not being uprooted.  But being inside the short-term bubble at Lee Abbey highlighted the importance of what we were missing: fellowship with other families going through, and preparing for, the same experience.

The nature of Ordination Training means the focus has to be on the person who will hopefully be ordained.  But training should also seek to meet the needs of any family members accompanying the ordinands.  If there was a will, and if time, accommodation and finances allowed, then partners, spouses and children could be invited and included in a whole weekend of talks, activities and fellowship. Finances for dioceses, colleges and ordinands make this much more difficult to achieve than to dream up and write, but preparing the whole family is essential.  Doing so not only acknowledges the sacrifice spouses, partners and children make as a result of ordination, but also helps them to live the life that they have not necessarily chosen or been called to.

My family and I left Lee Abbey encouraged and enthused, and wanting to go back again, and again, and again.  A big reason for our desire to return was the amazing landscape and hospitality, but it was also because we were in a bubble with others ‘like us’.  And by being inside the bubble we knew were were going to be better outside it.

A man who doesn’t have it all

This post isn’t perfect, it’s undoubtedly clumsy and both my argument and views poorly articulated, but I hope you’ll be understanding – I was juggling clearing up multiple piles of sick provided by my poorly son with doing several loads of washing, ferrying my daughter between school and music lessons, picking up my wife from her job and trying to study as part of my Ordination Training.  My excuse: I’m just not very good at multi-tasking.

On 9th December 2019, @manwhohasitall posted a question on Twitter: 

@manwhohasitall: I’m interviewing a male priest about what it’s like to be a priest at the same time as being a man. What should I ask him?  

Screenshot 2019-12-10 at 21.22.43

Click on the image of this tweet above, and all those below, to view them and other replies on Twitter

In the blur between what is fake and what is real on social media and in the news it isn’t immediately apparent that @Manwhohasitall is a parody account (see this article in The Independent from 2016).  The account, and many of the responses to it’s tweets, point towards the sexism directed towards women by highlighting attitudes that are all too real. The responses below show it well by rephrasing the questions posed to women as questions to pose to men.

Screenshot 2019-12-10 at 21.32.41

Open Blank 3 5

Open Blank 3 3

The sexism and double standards the responses pointed towards are wrong, but was there anything wrong in the question that was asked? Continue reading

The art of seeing salvation

Each summer those beginning or continuing their ordination training at Sarum College gather for a week of fellowship, exploration and reflection.  This year’s ‘Summer School’ focused on the use of art to help us ‘see salvation’: in the stones that have been calved and placed to gather amongst; in the sculptures formed by hands and machines to walk around; and in the paint applied to paper, canvas and plaster to gaze upon.  Although much of the art looked at during the week was formed with a clear religious intentionality behind it, an expression of faith and worship by an artist, not all of it did.  Indeed it was one of these latter pieces that provoked the greatest reaction and insight into ‘seeing salvation’.  The piece was Zak Ové’s “Black and Blue: The Invisible Man and the Masque of Blackness”, seen during a visit to the New Art Centre at Roche Court, near Salisbury.  Continue reading

This time now

Nervous excitement woke me up early.  I put on my glad-rags and left for the cathedral before my neighbours had begun to emerge into the daylight.  I didn’t want to be late.

I descended the Mendip Hills into Wells over an hour before the service began.  The Cathedral greeted me as I emerged from my car, and the Bishop of Taunton waved as she walked past.  As long as I kept both in sight I was going to make it in time. Continue reading

Breaking the chain and cynicism of Father’s Day


Insert “World’s Best Dad” name here

The signs are coming: “World’s Best Dad” printed on multiple t-shirts hanging on a clothes rails; scores of cards with “Number 1 Dad” on; “Perfect gift for Father’s Day” on everything from albums of 1980s soft-rock to packets of beef for the barbecue, essentially anything the real industry deems ‘manly’.  Their prevalence making the statements meaningless.  Their appeal to sentimentality for commercial gain that turns fatherhood into an apparent competition.

I’m not a fan. Continue reading

I belong because I don’t

Sunrising behind 3 crosses on a hill

Sunrise in Easter Day 2019 from an ecumenical service on The Roundhill, Bath

I am over half-way through my Ordination Training and thoughts are starting to turn to curacy.  When my diocese asked me to indicate which type of church I would and wouldn’t work with my reaction surprised me.  The question saddened me.  It was asking me where I belonged.  At once I realised that I belonged everywhere and nowhere. Continue reading

Silently Speaking

Sunset over the island of Coll

Listening to the silence

Growing up as the youngest of three, opportunities to talk were few and far between.  Each one had to be seized upon in case it would be a year before another would come again.  Silence was my chance to speak. 

Whatever the truth of my memory, the impact was that silence became an entity that I needed to fill; if I didn’t, and it continued, I would become increasingly uncomfortable.  And so I filled them.  I would jump into the silence with whatever opinion, facts or half-baked humour I could muster.  It wasn’t always the best idea. 

Filling the silence risks not hearing the very thing that needs to be heard.  Increasingly I’ve realised that isn’t me.  

Continue reading

An Ordinary Office on Iona

20180811 Iona Abbey.jpeg

Iona Abbey

Earlier in 2018 a group working to make church and faith accessible to all, called Disability and Jesus, produced a Daily Office – a set of prayers for different times of the day. Their website “An Ordinary Office” includes Morning, Midday and Evening Prayer in text, Makaton, audio and video formats.

During a visit to the island of Iona, off the west coast of Scotland, I recorded the Morning and Evening Prayer liturgies. They were filmed at various locations on the island including Iona Abbey, Columba’s Bay (where St Columba is said to have landed from Ireland and brought Christianity to the area) and the White Strand of the Monks where visiting Vikings killed the Abbey’s Monks that had come out to welcome then).

I hope you enjoy them and find them helpful (there are subtitles available if required).

Morning prayer from Iona

Evening Prayer from Iona

An ambient tour of Iona

Over 9 minutes of peaceful landscapes filmed for the prayer videos.

Testing the limits

2384200Geraint Thomas riding to victory in the 2018 Tour de France (Source: Eurosport)

Over the course of 3 long-read blog posts I am reviewing my first year as an Ordinand, each post focused on 1 of the 3 words that sum up my first year: tea, testing and transformation.  This, the second post in the series, is all about testing, and no, they haven’t brought in doping tests for prospective priests in the Church of England.  

One section of life where tests for performance enhancing drugs is common place is sport, and in particular cycling.  Each July athletes race in the most famous cycling race in the world, the Tour de France.  For 3 weeks cyclists mix sprinting for glory with climbs up some of the highest and toughest mountains that Europe have to offer.  It is a tremendous feat of endurance just for a person to make it to the end on the Champs Élysées in Paris.  This first year of training has similarly felt like a feat of endurance.

Continue reading