The Pensive Pilgrim

Over recent weeks, several Cathedral Deans of  the Church of England have preached passionately and eloquently on the subject of 'Living in Love and Faith' - the process that was supposedly intended to lead to a more 'radical inclusion' of LGBTQ+ Christians into the life and ministry of the church.  All of these sermons - at least two of which were positively heart-rending - were pleas to the House of Bishops, due to meet this week, not to allow the process to run into the sand nor to abandon plans for stand-alone services of blessing for same-sex couples and the lifting of the ban on clergy marrying a same sex partner.   It is no surprise that this cry for justice, Christian love and sheer common sense should come from the heads of some of our Cathedrals. The latter are, after all, bastions of true Anglicanism, not just in their dignified and traditional worship but also in their readiness to serve - and be seen to serve - the entire community and to genui...

Having now been retired for all of two weeks, yesterday - Remembrance Sunday - was the first time I actually felt a huge sense of relief at no longer being in parish ministry.  I suspect I was far from alone amongst active clergy in finding Remembrance Sunday the most stressful Sunday of the year, especially when linked to a 'civic' church.   Remembrance Sunday is, of course, an important and solemn occasion, and it's absolutely right that we should properly  honour those who lost their lives in war. Responsibility for leading a suitably dignified service with a very large congregation is in itself stressful enough, but Remembrance brings with it many added challenges and pressures, especially for the Established Church.  Firstly, there's the need to ensure that the Remembrance Service incorporates all the essential elements  (Komina Epitaph, Last Post, Two minute Silence etc) in the correct order and that it is accessible and meaningful not only for the Ch...

Those of a 'churchy' disposition will be aware that after seven years of wasted time, breath and energy, and a great deal of misplaced hope, the 'Living in Love and Faith' process (LLF for short) has finally been euthanised by the House of Bishops. The CofE website describes LLF as 'part of a longer journey......to listen, learn and respond to changing views in our society towards identity, sexuality, relationships and marriage' and recognises that 'Despite big differences over the best approach to take, the church agrees it needs to better include and support LGBTQI+ people'.   Some of us - particularly those who have learned to live with the CofE's flaws for many decades - were sceptical about the process in the first place. Experience has certainly taught me that when bishops say they 'want to listen' it usually means they really want to find a way of doing nothing, preserving the status quo and sparing themselves any aggro. (Apparently th...

"I didn't like the hymns today." "Why did we sing 'x' to the wrong tune?" "The hymns were far too fast this morning." "The hymns were far too slow this morning." Anyone who leads worship regularly will be all too familiar with these - and similar - comments. The selection and performance of hymns can be a major bone of contention in even the most harmonious congregation (if you pardon the pun).   I suspect that many worshippers have little idea of how much time, blood, sweat and tears actually goes into the choosing of hymns, if it's done properly and conscientiously.   Selecting hymns for worship isn't simply a matter of closing one's eyes and sticking a pin in the index of a hymn book, nor of endlessly regurgitating one's own - or indeed one's congregation's -  favourites. It is rather a matter of carefully matching the hymns to the liturgical season, the themes of the set readings for the day (especially the...

The late Queen Elizabeth II once famously referred to the year 1992 as an 'annus horribilis' for the royal family. Whilst the year 2024 may not quite qualify for that title, in our household it's certainly a close contender. At the the beginning of the year, the continuing rapid decline in my Mother's health had culminated in her admission to a specialist Dementia Nursing Home with the inevitable exhausting and frustrating battle to optimise her funding. It was difficult to find opportunities to make the 270 mile round journey to visit Mum, and often when I did so, she would either be in a deep sleep or in a highly confused and distressed state which was very disturbing to witness. Her death in September, though in many ways a blessed release, inevitably came as a painful shock, and she is sorely missed, although, of course, the Mavis that we all knew and loved had not been truly present for almost two years. May she rest in peace. As with any close bereavement, sortin...

My mother died recently.  The death was neither unexpected nor, to be honest, entirely unwelcome, for she had been seriously ill with dementia for the best part of two years.  Dementia is a cruel disease that takes our loved one from us a piece at a time, and I started grieving for her several months ago as I sat by her bedside in the Nursing Home, listening to her unbearable screams, cries of distress and incoherent ramblings, and seeing in her eyes only pain and fear and, often, no vestige of recognition.   When I received the inevitable phone call telling me that Mum had died, my sadness was more than equalled by a sense of relief that her suffering was ended and she was at last at peace. "I've been grieving for my mother for the last year or so," I would say, "because the woman who was my Mum is long gone". But if I imagined that this 'pre-grieving' would somehow diminish the pain of bereavement, I was mistaken.   Grief, as we all know, is a strange ...

I've been involved in a number of discussions in Social Media recently (some of them, it must be said, quite heated) regarding clerical vesture and liturgical practice. Readers won't be at-all surprised to hear that the various forums for these discussions were all of an 'Anglo-Catholic' hue.   In the course of one particular exchange, I was informed that I am (I quote) "A typical 'Boomer'". Well I've been called much worse than that in my time. 'Boomer' I must accept in terms of my vintage, although I have to say 'typical' stings a bit!  I guess, however, that we are all products of our time - and this is as true of clergy and our approach to liturgy as it is of anyone else.  It was in my late teens that I discovered Anglo-Catholicism. At that time in my local parish church, Mass was celebrated 'ad orientem' (eastward facing) at a high altar which stood proudly at the top of several steps in a distant chancel. I loved the s...