PRIESTLY PONDERING'S (1) - Being beneath the role

This is also available via YouTube:  https://youtu.be/Mk6GeJHV64g

In 2018 I wrote Enfolded in Christ: the inner life of a priest, and it’s been suggested I might offer some further thoughts arising from that, or from my second: The Mystery of Faith: Exploring Christian belief.  So, as we’re in a world-wide crisis at present, I thought I’d go back to something I wrote in chapter nine of ‘Enfolded’ because I think it speaks into something a number of priests might be experiencing.  It’s headed: Beneath the Role and is part of a section on ‘Being in Christ’:

‘While (the) desire for union with Christ is at the heart of our (priestly) calling, I’ve noticed, in directing clergy, that many find it easier to talk about roles and responsibilities. Although ministry may form the expression of our vocation, it’s not its essence, for that can only be found as ‘Cor ad cor loquitur’ – heart speaks to heart.  Vocation concerns the heart of being which our actions express. The demands of ministry can overbalance the call to intimacy and relationship just as doing can easily replace being in our desire for meaning. And while this isn’t unique to priesthood, unless our vocation is rooted in the desire for union with Christ, sooner or later it will wither – and may die.’

Now I’m not suggesting that your spiritual life has died or even withered, but I’ve noticed the way the present coronavirus crisis is causing some clergy to feel a bit lost – or depressed.  Many of the norms which accompany ministry have gone: ‘no church and no congregation’ is causing them to wonder what they’re meant to be doing.  We look at what the media focuses on – doctors and nurses caring for the sick and dying, food banks providing help for those in poverty and people hard at work raising funds for charities and we can easily begin to feel inadequate, or even guilty.  Many people have begun living in ‘virtual reality’ offering online parties and games, and some clergy are turning to the internet to broadcast services.  And whilst much of what’s appearing is helpful, I wonder – I just wonder – if we might be missing something…  If every crisis provides an opportunity, what might this one offer?  What might God be saying to us through it?

One of the reasons, as I mentioned, for writing Enfolded was because I sensed that many clergy live out of their role, something which can easily begin to take over from our vocation.   Many have become very proficient in what they do; they work hard, and their ministry is greatly valued.  But now much of that role seems to have been side-lined.  A century or so ago it was clergy and religious who nursed the sick – Florence Nightingale turned to the emerging Anglican Religious Orders to work in the Crimea, and priests cared for victims of cholera in the slums of 19^th cent. cities, gaining for them the name, ‘Father’.  Now it can feel as if we’re not needed. Yet, many are doing valiant, if hidden, work supporting congregations, helping organise Food Banks and so on.  But the fact that the Archbishops have ‘banned’ clergy from entering their churches to live-stream liturgies feels as if it’s undermined something of great importance and has hit many hard.

I’m one of those who no longer have a parish, or any ‘official’ ministry, and recall the way I, like others, suddenly felt an utter sense of lostness when that came to an end.  My identity as a parish priest had gone, and I suddenly had no idea what meaning life had for me. T. S. Eliot words, in his Four Quartets, captures something of the feeling I had:

‘ … as, when an underground train, in the tube, 
stops too long between stations

And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence

And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deeper

Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about … ‘ (East Coker, III)

That, of course, can be a feeling anyone can have when their job comes to an end – as has happened to thousands of people as a result of the ‘lockdown’ we’re going through.  So, my first reflection is that priests may be sharing the same feelings as many of their parishioners: this loss means we can identify with millions of others.  Like Christ, some of us have suddenly descended into the experience of many – have entered a wilderness that seems endless.  Into a darkness that can be depressive.

Now one of the things I notice about the account of Christ in the Desert is that the first Temptation which came his way was to turn stones into bread; and I then hear his response: “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matt. 4.4).  What might that be saying to the noble attempts of many to offer ‘virtual’ liturgies replicating, as best we can, what happens in church?  If every crisis offers opportunities, what might this crisis offer those who have a responsibility to nurture the spiritual lives of people?  Those who stand at the threshold of heaven?  Of course, many find satisfaction through the familiar and some, consequently, will encounter ‘church’ via the internet for the first time.  But are we missing something? 

In what we call the ‘spiritual life’ there’s a clear correlation between the wilderness and the monastic cell.  You probably know that saying of the 4^th cent. Desert Father, Abba Moses: “Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”  In a world where many feel lost, might the most important thing we have to share be that simple piece of teaching?  If you’re finding life difficult at present, don’t go looking for distractions – virtual games and sports, chat rooms and so on.  Simply stay in that place of emptiness and listen to what it might teach you – you may never have another opportunity to learn what this solitude, this enforced ‘retreat’ might offer.  And that, of course, means clergy need to do just that.  As Eliot said:

                            ‘I said to my soul, be still, 
                            and let the darkness come upon you

                            Which shall be the darkness of God.’ (East Coker, III)

That darkness, of course, can feel very dark – a darkness which can feel hellish.  And I’m reminded that Christ entered that darkness on Holy Saturday with the light of the Resurrection – and I want to consider that on another occasion because it is of such importance, yet often ignored.  For now, let’s consider the difference between that feeling of loneliness and the awareness of being alone.  Feeling lonely is about isolation, whereas being alone concerns realising in in-depth at-one-ness with all things.  Just listen to these words of Mother Mary Clare of the Sisters of the Love of God at Fairacres from their pamphlet, Aloneness Not Loneliness:

‘Like the solitary sailor, we deliberately choose our aloneness as part of a personal quest.  We are people engaged on a search.  It is always a search for God, but it is also a quest that brings us to a place of exposure to a deep, heart-searching, listening awareness of the fundamental, crying need of the world.  This is precisely the monk’s or nun’s chief service to humanity.  In aloneness we learn to share in a basic way in the emptiness and lostness that people today often know but also often tried to block out and ignore. … It is essential that we realise the intensely positive use and value of being alone and trying to stop being frightened at the very negative reaction or feeling lonely.’  (Fairacres Pubs. FP002)

I wonder if one of the most important things clergy can do at this time – at any time – is not only to be open to and aware of that basic emptiness and lost-ness, but to encourage people not to run from that primary human condition, the calling to and of God deep within their deepest self – the soul.  Rather than offering people religious ‘distractions’ isn’t one of our primary tasks to enable people to realise they’re called to enter the depths of their being?  Instead of just streaming services, might we also address this primary experience which so many are having but can’t make sense of or seek to avoid – aloneness?  Only the church can do that – the media have no understanding of the deeper reaches of our common humanity.  Doesn’t this crisis offer an opportunity – hopefully, one that won’t be repeated for a long time, but one we need to grasp – the opportunity to encounter ourselves in a creative way.  And to encounter God.   

So, use this time to create a fresh rhythm of prayer.  Make sure you’re having a day offline from time to time – now’s a wonderful opportunity to take an at-home Quiet Day where you can focus on prayer and meditation, a solitary walk and a little light reading. And, if you haven’t already, make sure the Blessed Sacrament is kept in a worthy place at home, a place you can ‘visit’ each day where you can be still before the Lord.  Let’s discover what this time has to offer so we can share with others from our experience.

Do you remember the way, also in 2018, that a group of boys became trapped in a cave system in Thailand for over a fortnight?  Their leader, a former Buddhist monk, led them in various meditation practices which helped them cope with their enforced isolation and kept them sane.  It’s clear many people at present are experiencing great anxiety, and whilst Christian meditation is primarily concerned with opening the eye of the heart to God, it has also been shown to be of great help in addressing anxiety and stress which can lead to depression.  I realise meditation might be difficult if you sense you’re extraverted – you may be finding the loss of human interaction really painful.  But, maybe, this is an opportunity to give attention to your inner life – and to teach others the importance of these practices.  

In a society which judges the church by what it can be seen to do, its actions, might God be offering us an opportunity to reach out to others from the hidden wisdom of our tradition – of the contemplative way?  Might this be a time when we remind the world it has a forgotten soul which needs nurturing?  Isn’t that the meaning behind our role?  Rather than this being a time when the church hardly seems needed, maybe it’s a time when we’re needed even more – we just need to realise what we have and find ways of sharing it with others. 

I said to my soul be still, and wait without hope

For hope would be hope for the wrong thing;

wait without love

For love would be love of the wrong thing;

there is yet faith

But the faith and the love and the hope 
       are all in the waiting.

Wait without thought, 
       for you are not ready for thought:

So the darkness shall be the light, 
       and the stillness the dancing.  (East Coker III)

John-Francis Friendship

April 17^th, 2020

SPIRITUAL DIRECTION AND CLERICAL MINISTRY - some reflections

From time to time the suggestion is made that clergy should not only encourage members of their congregations to seek a spiritual director but offer themselves in that role.  As someone said: ‘There is no magic, no expertise, just sister and brother sinners on the Way.'  However, there is a long tradition that clergy should not act as director to parishioners: as Madeleine de Saint-Joseph wrote to ‘A Cleric’:

‘First, then, I tell you this, sir, about the direction of souls.  It is very dangerous to meddle in it.  One must be constrained and called to it by God …’ ¹

Whilst it’s true that clergy need to help parishioners deepen their relationship with God, there are dangers and pitfalls in directing them.  It’s one thing to be asked to preach and another to be a preacher – most benefit from proper training, and a few are simply not gifted in that way.  Just so with Spiritual Direction.  To offer that ministry requires a certain calling and the humility to seek some formation – it doesn’t come as part of the grace of ordination, any more than does the ability to be an effective preacher or teacher.  It’s also clear that some should not be offering this ministry, and several bishops are rightly concerned when they learn of directors who are not supervised in what they do.  

This ministry needs approaching with great sensitivity, for one is involved in dealing with another’s soul: the place where we stand is holy ground.  Whoever is prepared to offer this ministry needs to realise the primary importance of their own conversatio morum though their ongoing, deepening relationship with God.  Whoever offers direction must come to terms with the:

•  temptation to want to ‘rescue’ people or to focus into ‘problem solving’;

•  urge to be too directive;

•  need for a broad understanding of the Christian spiritual tradition;

•  need to trust in the ‘slow work of God’ in a directee’s life;

•  importance of insights from other therapeutic disciplines, especially in the areas of transference, counter-transference and projection and the dangers of rejecting these insights;

•  legal issues surrounding the ministry (aspects of confidentiality, safeguarding etc…);

•  importance of knowing how to listen contemplatively, and the danger of not properly listening;

•  temptation to ‘go it alone’ and think we don’t need help (supervision).

             

The dynamic between priest and parishioner can be complex – unlike the boundaried relationship between confessor and penitent, this relationship can confuse matters.  Spiritual Direction requires both to feel they are free to bring to the relationship what needs addressing, and there needs to be a certain distance between director and directee.  But the proximity between priest and parishioner in weekly services etc. leave both vulnerable to becoming inappropriately close in a variety of ways, and this can be a problem where, consciously or not, levels of attraction begin to emerge.  

For all these reasons, not least the many psycho-spiritual dynamics involved, it’s held that clergy ought not to direct members of their congregations.

             __________________________________

 ¹  William M. Thomson, ed, Berulle and the French School, The Classics of Western Spirituality, Paulist Press, 1989, p.208

BROKEN

Does anyone else agree that 'Broken', which ended its run on the BBC on Tuesday night (July 4th), is amongst the best programmes dealing with social and personal issues from a profoundly Christian basis?  It also appears to be a story with equally profound spiritual roots - the heart of our relationship with God in Christ and the way that affects life.  It is a real expression of the saying of St. Jean Marie Vianney, Patron of Parish Clergy: 'The Priesthood is the love of the Heart of Jesus'.

I know the writer professes to be an atheist - but can hardly believe that's true.  His Catholic upbringing has clearly made an indelible mark on his attitude to life.  I've rarely seen such a moving and powerful portrayal of the Christian Faith in action - and all rooted in the dynamic of the Eucharist. Might it be required viewing by theological students and bishops?  It might make an excellent Lent Course for 2018.  Thanks, Jimmy McGovern - this is a real FRESH EXPRESSION!

Clergy Discipline? Remember Cranmer!

It’s not often I find myself referring to Thomas Cranmer (the Archbishop that is) but, having read the House of Bishops Pastoral Guidance on Same Sex Marriage, I found myself rushing to him for guidance and inspiration. 
It seems to me that their Grace’s need to re-examine the history of the Church in England.  Or have they conveniently forgotten that at a time when the Church demanded celibacy of its clergy Cranmer, having married his second wife Margaret before he was consecrated, proceeded to hide her from view when he became Archbishop. Perhaps the legacy of this founding act of deception and subterfuge has so deeply entered the psyche of the Church of England that it’s now overlooked. Whatever, I am surprised the bishop's forgot this precedent when they wrote in their Pastoral Guidance: 'Nevertheless at ordination clergy undertake to 'accept and minister the discipline of this Church, and respect authority duly exercised within it.' We urge all clergy to act consistently with that undertaking'. 

Isn't there a saying that what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander....