• Five Thoughts On Losing Elections (and a referendum)

    Everyone has their own speciality. Mine is losing elections.

    It seems to have become a primary passtime. More than a hobby, less than a national identity but part of who I am.

    I’ve lost elections in school, university, the church and civic society. I’ve not become president of my College student association, nor a Member of Parliament, nor a Councillor, nor a Rector of the Univerity of Glasgow and I’ve recently not become a bishop.

    I am proficient at it. It is my own special skill. I’ve done it so often that I’m sure I’ve forgotten some of my most triumphant defeats.

    I can’t say that losing elections is easy. Each comes with its own particular disappointment; its own lasting murmer of what might have been if only things had been a bit different.

    But it is from this perspective that I want to say something about how to lose an election and in particular how to react to having lost one particular referendum.

    For a significant moment occurs today. At 11 pm this evening Britain will leave the European Union – and become the only nation in world history ever to have declared economic sanctions against itself.

    I was in favour of remaining for all the same reasons that I was in favour of Scotland remaining in the UK. I’m predisposed to think that we should be in anything.

    I remain of the view that the poor in the UK will pay the highest price for coming out of the EU.

    So I was on the losing side of this one. I mourn our departure from the EU.

    As an experienced expert on losing elections then, I tentatively offer the following reflections on how to lose.

    1. When you are beaten, it may be because the other side was better at it than you were.
      Oh, I know that this is difficult to accept. I’ve felt the pain of feeling robbed time and again. But one of the things I’ve learned from those who I’ve fought alongside in the liberal/left/pro-European corner of the political vineyard is that many of those I’ve been very close to just can’t accept the basic reality that those who have different ideas just might be better at getting them across. People who think differently might be clever. Might indeed be cleverer than thou. Accepting this hideous reality is the first step in coping with losing. It is far easier to claim that the other side cheated than that they were better. It is relatively rare that they did.
    2. Change happens.
      New opportunites present themselves. As soon as the dust clears from one battle, the pathway to the next becomes clear. There’s no going back. The world only spins one way. But one of the features of the way the world spins is that change is still always going to be part of the journey.
      In 2005 I took no small pleasure in nearly doubling the Liberal Democrat vote in Stirling and knocking the SNP into fourth place. The fact is that the seat has been held by Labour, Conservative and now SNP members since then. And I took tiny scintilla of pleasure in seeing how it changed hands at the last election, even though it wasn’t a party I’ll ever vote for who won. Change has always happened and always will happen. Recognising this is the first step towards getting back on board and standing publicly for something again.
      I hope that the UK forges a path as close as possible to the EU and ultimately rejoins. I’m in the minority here but that’s what I hope for. And learning what one hopes for is a large part of poltical participation.
    3. You don’t have to win an election to have an effect.
      Getting a higher turnout in an election is a good thing. Getting more votes for what you are standing for than people expected is a joy. Losing elections can be part of turning the tide in a wider movement for change. I cannot count the number of votes that those of us campaigning for equal marriage in the Scottish Epsicopal Church lost but each was a step along a journey that eventually led to change that has brought joy into the lives of people who didn’t know how much their hearts could sing. You are part of something. Try to see the bigger picture.
    4. You don’t have to win an election for it to have an effect on you.
      I’ve been changed by all the elections that I’ve fought and mostly for the better. I’ve probably been changed for the better more by those I’ve lost than the few that I’ve won. Participation in an electoral system is an invitation to learn from others. I’ve learned skills of persuasion and learned that people are interested in original ideas no matter how off the wall they first seem to be. I’ve learned that being able to see over the horizon is no guarentee of electoral success but I’ve learned to see a little bit further over the horizon all the same. There’s much  to be gained by standing. That isn’t invalidated by losing.
    5. It is about winning, all the same.
      There’s a time and a place for bitter regret. And that place is never in public. The tough reality is that sometimes one simply has to suck it up and accept that one lost. Whether one wanted a particular democratic event or not, sometimes the fact remains staring us in the face that this time it was a loss.
      It is particularly difficult seeing people and organisations who claim to be hugely committed to democracy finding it so difficult to accept that the Brexit referendum didn’t go the way they expected it to. Yes, some of the reasons some people voted were about xenophobia. Yes, some of the reasons were to do with reasserting a sense of Englishness which has gone sour in recent years. Yes, some of the reasons for voting in the recent election were, however misplaced, about a sense of self-interest. But they were real feelings. Change won’t begin to happen until ideas emerge from the losing side that capture or recapture the hearts of those who voted differently.
      All elections are won on hope. Even hope that you despise.

    If rightwing populists can win the hopes of people across the world then anyone can win the hopes of an electorate. But that won’t happen automatically. It needs imagination, inspiration and those prepared to take risks, dream dreams and stand up for what they themselves hope for in public.

    And it needs people prepared to lose elections.

    Until one day they win.

18 responses to “Whither the Chrism Mass?”

  1. Fr Keith Avatar
    Fr Keith

    I attended at St Paul ‘s Cathedral, London yesterday, after a gap of three years (when I’d been serving for Holy Week in the Diocese of Argyll and The Isles) – it was a moving service, though I’m now wondering whether that was as much for the opportunity to catch up with colleagues and worship with such a huge number of fellow clergy as for anything else. In Argyll and The Isles we do indeed celebrate the Chrism Mass in the context of the diocesan synod (as we did last month) – in fact, it’s at that Mass that the synod is constituted. It would be hugely impractical to get folk together on Maundy Thursday (easier and quicker for me to get to Oban from London than from Stornoway), and it does make more sense, it seems to me, to do such things (the blessing of oils, the re-commitment to one’s ministry) when gathered together with one’s bishop in synod.

  2. Andrew Dotchin Avatar
    Andrew Dotchin

    Suffolk unites Oils and Renewal of Commitment Ministry and includes prayer for healing with anointing and the Laying on of hands. Very powerful as we corporately recognise our vulnerability. Maundg Thursday works for us (for me) as it means we do not somehow fall into the Evening Service having run around doing the usual business of funerals and pastoral work. The year we had the Royal Maundy the Chrisma Mass was moved to Tuesday and it just did I not fit. A meal afterwards is also very important. The cathedral now offers a free bag meal to everyone but many do wander off to a local pub. For me it is the day when I, the only paid cleric in a team of six pay for the meal as my personal thanks for their service. Spouses and partners are also an important part of our way of doing things as their is a strong recognition that vocations are shared and supported within our own families

  3. Peter Avatar
    Peter

    Okay it’s hard for me to assume you are either Catholic or Anglican. I’ll assume you’re the former, like myself. I just returned from Chrism mass. It’ll be my last. Apart from the bishop facing the people ( which I detest as I believe unequivocally in ad orientem worship at mass) the crowds at this mass seem to give this liturgy a theatre like star studded atmosphere as they peer and talk among themselves about the identity of over 400 priests to choose from all straining and trying to verbally identify. Because priests are huddled in our cathedral in the center of the church, people who aren’t liturgically literate begin to recite those parts of the mass strictly reserved for priest e.g the consecration because the huge concelebration throws them off and they are following along in huge special programs. Then there is the “ communion pandemonium “ with clergy trying to speed things up by disrupting the flow of communion by suddenly giving it out at the rear of the church! And the overall sense of “ celebration” vs “ worship” due to so many addresses and welcomings that people feel free to simply talk rather than prayerfully follow along. Add to this the uncharitable crowds that jostle for a seat and squeeze an already packed pew beyond its capacity. Heaven help you if you need a washroom break and find out your seat was taken by one of these hustlers! ( as happened to me). If I had it my way, the old 1962 Latin liturgy would be restored. The one positive thing was that here in Canada tge chrism mass is not in Holy Thursday but either the Monday or Tuesday of Holy Week.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Many thanks for illustrating my point so clearly.

  4. Malcolm Avatar
    Malcolm

    Out of curiosity, what liturgy is used for the Chrism Mass in the SEC? I don’t see an appropriate liturgy in Lent, Holy Week and Easter 2024, do cathedrals/dioceses just make the service up on the spot or am I missing something?

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      There is no authorised liturgy for a Chrism Mass in Scotland.

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