This week, Christians across the world have been remembering the story of Holy Week, beginning with Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, recalling along the way the events of the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday and the Crucifixion on Good Friday, before finally celebrating the Resurrection on Easter Sunday. Holy Week this year marks my final experience of this special time prior to completing my theological training, and beginning a new ministry as a Methodist probationer presbyter in September. Perhaps because of the significance of what is to come, this has proven to be an especially powerful time for me, and I wanted to share some of my thoughts. As we are outside of term time, I've been free to choose where I worship, and have been joining the congregation at Birmingham's St Philip's Cathedral, which seems to have moved up the candle somewhat following the departure of the previous Dean and the arrival of a new Canon Liturgist. This suits me well as someone from an Anglo-Catholic background, and has contributed very much to my experience.
Maundy Thursday was particularly special, in that I had an unexpected and profound encounter with God. I'm not someone for whom out-of-the-ordinary experiences form a part of my spiritual life normally, but this was different. After the main service, during which the story of the Last Supper was recalled and the Eucharist celebrated, we were invited to join the clergy for a vigil in the north chapel in front of the Sacrament (consecrated bread left over from the said Eucharist). The lights were turned out and we sat for around an hour in near darkness but for a few candles, with Peter Eugene Ball's Crucifix behind the altar. During this time, I found myself reflecting on both the calling to serve reflected in the reading from John's Gospel also used in the service, which reminds us of Jesus washing the disciples' feet in an upper room, and those things that have shaped my own sense of vocation in the eleven years since I became a Christian. The beginnings of my being called to ordained ministry go back to when I was a postgraduate student in Durham and found myself daydreaming about being the one behind the altar, presiding at the Eucharist. It's incredible to think how much life has changed in that time.
At the point God began to stir up this calling, my life was rather more messy and substantially less happy than it is today. I was living with my ex-partner in a relationship that had become abusive, and was struggling to deal with both the scars of a difficult childhood and confusion about my gender identity. In the subsequent years, I've found a sense of wholeness that I never thought possible, and a key factor in that has been the importance of the Eucharist. Meeting Christ in his brokenness, reflected in how we cannot receive that presence in the bread until it has been broken, enabled me to find healing and begin a journey of forgiveness. This didn't happen overnight, and I'm grateful to various people who journeyed with me along the way, but for me the Eucharist encapsulates the transforming reality of God's love. In that side-chapel on Maundy Thursday evening, and as much it probably sounds like a very 'cheesy Christian' thing to say, I felt myself drawn incredibly close to Jesus and at ease in his presence, aware of being completely and unreservedly loved, and safe in the knowledge of how his brokenness on the cross has brought me wholeness. As I prepare to begin a new stage of my ministry, the thing I'm most passionate about is enabling others to recognise that they too are infinitely valuable to God, and I see my role as a minister as being about inspiring those in churches to feel confident to share this amazing love with others, through words and actions, and in challenging injustices.
Moving onto Good Friday, Sally and I began the day by taking part in Birmingham's ecumenical Walk of Witness through the city centre. It consisted of fourteen short Stations of the Cross, and was led by leaders from various denominations, including the Methodist Chair of the Birmingham District. I found the experience quite powerful on the whole, but I also have some reservations. For starters, the liturgy came from a very particular perspective, and I found myself unsure about some of the theology, especially around whether talking about 'offending' Jesus really helps us speak meaningfully about the subjects of evil and sin (itself an interesting word to use in general conversation these days). However, my biggest worry is about what those who do not belong to a church would have made of it all. In principle, I don't think there's anything wrong with doing things that are counter-cultural and make people think, but as the Mission-Shaped Church report argues, "the Christian story is no longer at the heart of the nation" (indeed, hearing a clearly bright and thoughtful student explaining to some international students on the way home on Thursday that eating chocolate on Easter Day is traditional here, but she has no real idea why that is, sums things up). I wonder how much of what we were doing made any meaningful impact on those unfamiliar with the story of Jesus' passion; there was little attempt to put things across in everyday language, and there's a real danger that although it made the local news, the Walk was little more than a source of bemusement for the small numbers of people who saw it at that time of day...
I suppose the same thing could be said of the Good Friday worship in the Cathedral - at one point, the clergy were knelt before a giant wooden cross laid on the floor, as the choir sung the reproaches to God's people - but I nonetheless found it very helpful. Remembering the story of Christ's passion reminds me that none of us is called to serve God based upon our own merits; rather, it is because God chooses to see us as worthy and makes us holy, through the reconciliation made possible in Christ, that we can stand in God's presence and be used by the Holy Spirit to make a difference in the world (for what it's worth, it seems clear to me that God uses people well beyond the Church, but that's a whole other argument for another day!). I recognise that the closeness I feel to God at the moment is not something that will always be present; indeed, things have been a real struggle since my mum had a stroke a couple of years ago, and at times I've felt like a bit of a fraud if I'm honest, though a wise person once told me that half of the battle is just turning up and keeping going. However, I know I can take heart from this assurance of God's love that I've found this Holy Week so far, as I prepare to move into this new phase of my ministry. Perhaps for the first time, I have no doubt that I'm doing the right thing.
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| Crucifix by Peter Eugene Ball |
At the point God began to stir up this calling, my life was rather more messy and substantially less happy than it is today. I was living with my ex-partner in a relationship that had become abusive, and was struggling to deal with both the scars of a difficult childhood and confusion about my gender identity. In the subsequent years, I've found a sense of wholeness that I never thought possible, and a key factor in that has been the importance of the Eucharist. Meeting Christ in his brokenness, reflected in how we cannot receive that presence in the bread until it has been broken, enabled me to find healing and begin a journey of forgiveness. This didn't happen overnight, and I'm grateful to various people who journeyed with me along the way, but for me the Eucharist encapsulates the transforming reality of God's love. In that side-chapel on Maundy Thursday evening, and as much it probably sounds like a very 'cheesy Christian' thing to say, I felt myself drawn incredibly close to Jesus and at ease in his presence, aware of being completely and unreservedly loved, and safe in the knowledge of how his brokenness on the cross has brought me wholeness. As I prepare to begin a new stage of my ministry, the thing I'm most passionate about is enabling others to recognise that they too are infinitely valuable to God, and I see my role as a minister as being about inspiring those in churches to feel confident to share this amazing love with others, through words and actions, and in challenging injustices.
Moving onto Good Friday, Sally and I began the day by taking part in Birmingham's ecumenical Walk of Witness through the city centre. It consisted of fourteen short Stations of the Cross, and was led by leaders from various denominations, including the Methodist Chair of the Birmingham District. I found the experience quite powerful on the whole, but I also have some reservations. For starters, the liturgy came from a very particular perspective, and I found myself unsure about some of the theology, especially around whether talking about 'offending' Jesus really helps us speak meaningfully about the subjects of evil and sin (itself an interesting word to use in general conversation these days). However, my biggest worry is about what those who do not belong to a church would have made of it all. In principle, I don't think there's anything wrong with doing things that are counter-cultural and make people think, but as the Mission-Shaped Church report argues, "the Christian story is no longer at the heart of the nation" (indeed, hearing a clearly bright and thoughtful student explaining to some international students on the way home on Thursday that eating chocolate on Easter Day is traditional here, but she has no real idea why that is, sums things up). I wonder how much of what we were doing made any meaningful impact on those unfamiliar with the story of Jesus' passion; there was little attempt to put things across in everyday language, and there's a real danger that although it made the local news, the Walk was little more than a source of bemusement for the small numbers of people who saw it at that time of day...
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| Ecumenical Walk of Witness in Birmingham |
I suppose the same thing could be said of the Good Friday worship in the Cathedral - at one point, the clergy were knelt before a giant wooden cross laid on the floor, as the choir sung the reproaches to God's people - but I nonetheless found it very helpful. Remembering the story of Christ's passion reminds me that none of us is called to serve God based upon our own merits; rather, it is because God chooses to see us as worthy and makes us holy, through the reconciliation made possible in Christ, that we can stand in God's presence and be used by the Holy Spirit to make a difference in the world (for what it's worth, it seems clear to me that God uses people well beyond the Church, but that's a whole other argument for another day!). I recognise that the closeness I feel to God at the moment is not something that will always be present; indeed, things have been a real struggle since my mum had a stroke a couple of years ago, and at times I've felt like a bit of a fraud if I'm honest, though a wise person once told me that half of the battle is just turning up and keeping going. However, I know I can take heart from this assurance of God's love that I've found this Holy Week so far, as I prepare to move into this new phase of my ministry. Perhaps for the first time, I have no doubt that I'm doing the right thing.
