Confessions of an Ordinand
Here's something I wrote for the Stukely Parish Magazine:
Firstly you might be wondering what an Ordinand is? Put simply it's a person being ordained to be a priest in the Church of England. Put more fully, it's a mix of being a theological student, where I go to lectures, and spend a lot of time reading, well, mainly getting books and intending to read them! I also expend hours pondering and discussing life's big questions like 'Who is God?' Why are we here?' and 'What's for lunch?' During term time I study in Cambridge at Ridley Hall, commonly known as the vicar factory. As I'm over thirty years old, I'm supposed to have more life experience and wisdom, so they allow me to take two years to qualify rather than the usual three. During this period, before they let me loose on some poor unsuspecting parish, I'm supposed to crystallise my sense of what it is to be an 'Anglican Church leader'. I'm still only part way through the training so I still feel far off from that moment, I know the day is coming when people will inevitably just see my dog collar and not the blundering student underneath it.
In between musing and stroking my non-existent beard at college, the second part of my training is acting as an apprentice vicar. In practice this means following Rev. Nick Devenish around, watching what he does and doing the things he asks me to do. This involves; preaching; praying; leading a Sunday service; but it also entails going into local schools; helping to run an 'Alpha' course where people come along and are able to ask open questions about the Christian faith; and participating in the monthly 'Thursdays@7', held at All Saints Huntingdon on the first Thursday of the month, which is a place of spiritual reflection, life exploration and space for growing a sense of community over a good meal.
With the theoretical aspects covered at Ridley and the practical application given around Huntingdon, I'm hopefully getting a more rounded understanding of what it means to be an Anglican vicar in the 21st century. I'm also starting to realise a few things about you out there. It's amazing how people treat me differently when I put on the cassock and surplice (the white large-sleeved tunic that makes me look vaguely like a Christmas fairy). When I wear them it's like I become the queen, people line up to shake my hand as they're leaving church and our conversations are full of pleasantries, but we don't say much.
It's also interesting going out to the villages, as I was brought up as a 'townie'. Villagers seem to have a connection with the old stone tower building, with its bells and gargoyles, at the edge of the village, but hardly anyone thinks about what might or might not be going on in there. It's strange, if the church was a local shop and it stocked nothing that people really wanted, nobody would frequent it. To avoid bankruptcy it would have to find out what its customers wanted and how to market it to them. But, for some reason, because it's a church we feel it's important that it's there, why is that? Does it represent a bygone era that we look back on but don’t know how to recapture it? Is it just a piece of historical architecture that shapes the village sky-line? Or could it be a symbol of the ‘soul’ of the village? Whatever your view there’s a challenge to all of us. For those of us who find ourselves sat in those ancient buildings on a Sunday, we must ask ourselves ‘are we just running a club for ourselves that baffles brave visitors with it’s practices and formulas?’ And for those of us who like the idea of a local church, but would only be seen dead in it, we need to discover this beautiful ‘soul’ in our midst, before it’s too late.
In between musing and stroking my non-existent beard at college, the second part of my training is acting as an apprentice vicar. In practice this means following Rev. Nick Devenish around, watching what he does and doing the things he asks me to do. This involves; preaching; praying; leading a Sunday service; but it also entails going into local schools; helping to run an 'Alpha' course where people come along and are able to ask open questions about the Christian faith; and participating in the monthly 'Thursdays@7', held at All Saints Huntingdon on the first Thursday of the month, which is a place of spiritual reflection, life exploration and space for growing a sense of community over a good meal.
With the theoretical aspects covered at Ridley and the practical application given around Huntingdon, I'm hopefully getting a more rounded understanding of what it means to be an Anglican vicar in the 21st century. I'm also starting to realise a few things about you out there. It's amazing how people treat me differently when I put on the cassock and surplice (the white large-sleeved tunic that makes me look vaguely like a Christmas fairy). When I wear them it's like I become the queen, people line up to shake my hand as they're leaving church and our conversations are full of pleasantries, but we don't say much.
It's also interesting going out to the villages, as I was brought up as a 'townie'. Villagers seem to have a connection with the old stone tower building, with its bells and gargoyles, at the edge of the village, but hardly anyone thinks about what might or might not be going on in there. It's strange, if the church was a local shop and it stocked nothing that people really wanted, nobody would frequent it. To avoid bankruptcy it would have to find out what its customers wanted and how to market it to them. But, for some reason, because it's a church we feel it's important that it's there, why is that? Does it represent a bygone era that we look back on but don’t know how to recapture it? Is it just a piece of historical architecture that shapes the village sky-line? Or could it be a symbol of the ‘soul’ of the village? Whatever your view there’s a challenge to all of us. For those of us who find ourselves sat in those ancient buildings on a Sunday, we must ask ourselves ‘are we just running a club for ourselves that baffles brave visitors with it’s practices and formulas?’ And for those of us who like the idea of a local church, but would only be seen dead in it, we need to discover this beautiful ‘soul’ in our midst, before it’s too late.
posted by Tim Yau @ 9:13 pm
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