What is in Kelvin's Head?

  • Installation/Institution

    For the next three months, I’m on sabbatical from St Mary’s, enjoying the freedom that Bishop Gregor and the congregation have given me to think and reflect and grow.

    The last formal thing that I did as Provost of St Mary’s before sabbatical time started was to go to the start of a new ministry – the installation of the Very Rev Nicola McNelly as the new Provost in the Cathedral in Oban.

    It was a very splendid affair indeed. St John’s was as spruced up as St John’s can be and the place was nice and full to welcome Nicola. There was a good turn out from the Province too and Bishop Kevin preached an excellent sermon. The gist of it was that people treat the words ‘We’ve never done it this way’ as being somehow equivalent in their thinking to the seven last words of Jesus and then proceed to crucify the church over them. In passing, he made reference to the analogy between the way God loves us and the love that human beings have for one another. And yes, he was quite explicit that this means the love that men and women share, that men share with men and women share with women.  (I hinted afterwards to him that one of our Scottish newspapers has a new devotional slot on its front page just crying out for a sermon like that and that he should send it in).

    Jolly party afterwards at which old friendships were made and new one’s kindled. Always fun to meet people whom you have seen and hear about online but suddenly meet in the flesh. (Or indeed, fun to hear a twitter contact singing Calon Lân at the start of the liturgy – which happens to be one of my favourite tunes).

    So then on to sabbatical time.

    And the first thing I go to on sabbatical is…?

    Yes, the start of a new ministry with an induction service for a new Rector. Different bishop (This time the Bishop of New Westminster) but so very much the same that it was uncanny. Same opening hymn, same joy, same sense of purpose and same kind of happy crowd of people enjoying being together and celebrating the hope and expectation that a new ministry can bring.

    One of these services did have a handbell choir as well as a choir of voices and one did not though.

    Interestingly, both services managed to make sense of the now ‘traditional’ giving of gifts (keys, bible, oil, bread and wine etc) to the new provost/rector. In each case, the giving of each gift was followed by a statement from the person concerned inviting the congregation to share with them the giving of the gifts for the sake of the world.

    I can sometimes come away from such services depressed for it feels as though we have encumbered the incumbent with more than they should decently be expected to bear. In both these services though it felt as though purposeful, healthy leadership was being seen as part of a healthy collaborative endeavour of God’s people.

    So, blessings to the new ministries I’ve seen commence this week. God bless them one and all.

    , , , ,

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

  1. Josh Avatar
    Josh

    Being a good vicar to stony, unreceptive hearts might require a pickaxe to reveal gemstones within. It must be tough to minister to jerks and meanies, no? We lose faith in people easily – I certainly do. But a good vicar – a loving parent – doesn’t give on up one’s children.

    A good vicar might depend on the eye of the beholder. Whether you believe vicars and congregations are intrinsically good or evil might get you called a Pelagian or an Augustinian depending on who you ask. Faith in the work of a vicar or the reception of the congregation depends on good faith and co-operation – what then do we place our faith in? Hardly Protestant thinking, when faith is dependent on work, manifestation, and epiphany. A bad vicar might be sent to good people. A good vicar might be sent to bad people. Whether a vicar or congregation is subjectively or objectively good is a difficult question to answer.

    It is then that I prefer to see both the vicar and congregation not as “good” or “bad” but rather as equally “beloved”. However large the congregation, or even the vicar’s skill shouldn’t matter then. But that raises the question: Who then do we love if we are so beloved by God? Perhaps love might be the answer. A vicar and congregation who sees and knows themselves as equally and lavishly beloved of God will love each other. Love makes congregations meaningful and precious, no matter how small they might be.

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  2. Josh Avatar
    Josh

    And if I might add to my previous comment – And love also makes vicars meaningful and precious, no matter how small the congregation might be.

    Reply
  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Yes – things which make the practicalities of small congregations include:
    the laity in most senior positions find it hard to see the inclusive love of God and to see the value of prayer and spiritual exercises, a shortage of laity with administrative abilities, a tiny handful of parishioners prepared to insist on unhelpful things all the time (the oldest liturgies every week, the kind of behaviour small children cannot sustain all service long, particular dress in those at church on Sunday to name but a tiny selection). In a larger church these things can be contained (one nasty comment for lady x outweighed by five or six lovely ones or simply finding somebody to be treasurer who can cope with the job). In a small church, however good the vicar, the nasty comment carries more weight, and the sorting out of the finances may take days of clergy effort. It is always hard to get from a tiny congregation to a large one.

    That said, I have sat through sermons so mind-numbingly boring and inappropriate that I have actually moved to another church.

    Reply
  4. Paul Waddington Avatar
    Paul Waddington

    If one looks at the larger picture, the Archbishop’s optimism seems misplaced.

    According to the 1851 census, about five million people attended a Church of England service on the census day (a Sunday). The population of England and Wales at the time was about 17 million. These are round figures and I know that there were difficulties with the religious census, but they are good enough to demonstrate my point. Roughly speaking, about 30% of the population attended a CofE that Sunday.

    Recently published figures estimate average Sunday attendance at CofE churches at about 900,000. That is about 2% of the population of England. Wales is now excluded.

    So taking the long view, the trend is rather depressing for the CofE. Compared with 1851, fourteen out of fifteen no longer attend church regularly.

    As an aside, the 1851 census indicated a church attendance for Catholics of about 350,000. That is about 2% of the population. I understand that the current figure is very similar for Mass attendance is also around 900,000 or 2% of the population.

    Other recent research has indicated that the age range of CofE congregations is skewed towards the upper end. Certainly in my local parish, it is unusual to see anyone under the age of 60. I do wonder how many there will be in, say, 15 years time.

    Reply
    1. Kelvin Avatar
      Kelvin

      Thanks Paul – I find that bishops generally tend to accentuate the positive when it comes to thinking about numbers in church. Whether that is because they only go to events that are comparatively well attended or whether it is actually because it is their job to be upbeat about possibilities is not clear to me.

      Reply
  5. Pam Avatar
    Pam

    It is complicated – ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – poor adjectives. The rector is the leader of the congregation and needs support and trust. But, I think, no longer is the vicar held in such esteem as not to have to earn that support and trust. A good thing, mostly. Churches grow for all sorts of reasons – the level of involvement with non-believers, a prominent noticeboard and outstanding bikke and slice-makers all help.

    Reply

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