• Praying for Dr Pritchard

    Every morning at Morning Prayer in St Mary’s we pray for those whose “year’s mind falls at this time”. That means remembering in our prayers those who have died, on the anniversary of their death. Many of our churches in Scotland do this and we have a list of remembrances that leads to a couple of names being remembered most days. I’m not sure when our list started – sometime in the last 40 years or so, but it has been added to and whenever we know the day of the death of someone associated with the congregation we add them to the list.

    Thus, this morning there were two commemorations.

    And on this day, we remember Archbishop Robert Blackadder and Edward Pritchard.
    May they rest in peace
    And rise in glory!

    Lord in your mercy
    hear our prayer.

    Neither of these souls are within the living memory of anyone at St Mary’s. Archbishop Robert was the first ever archbishop of Glasgow and is a relatively easy person to remember in our prayers. His time as Archbishop here seemed to be remembered more for diocesan re-organisation than anything else and because he managed to convince the Pope, no less, that Glasgow should not be administered from anywhere in the East. He died on pilgrimage, whilst trying to get to Jerusalem, just one of his many epic journeys.

    But the other name whom we remember today was very much a member of the congregation and some would find him a bit more difficult to remember in prayer. Edward William Pritchard was a member of St Mary’s Episcopal Church – the precursor to what is now St Mary’s Cathedral. He would not have known the building we now worship in but he would surely have heard talk of it being built, as he died in 1865, just 6 years before it opened. He would have worshipped in what we now think of as Old St Mary’s – a church in town which no longer exists except in a street-name and a graveyard which is covered with a car park.

    Edward Pritchard has the distinction of being the last person to be hanged in public in Glasgow. He was absolutely notorious in his day. A cleric from St Mary’s accompanied him to the gallows and he came to his end with some 10 000 people of the city (no doubt including some other members of the congregation) watching him die. He had murdered his wife and mother-in-law and probably at least one servant girl. He became famous for the tears that he cried over the coffin of the wife whom he had killed with arsenic and this led to him being known as the human crocodile.

    The truth is, a more ghoulish tale you will not find. Nor a more gruesome public death.

    It is worth thinking about what is going on when we pray for Dr Pritchard.

    Firstly, should we remember him or should we banish him from our minds? It always seems to me important to remember him and to remember that the church is a bunch of sinners. Part of the scandal of Christianity is that some are merely more obvious sinners than others.

    It strikes me today that I always notice and remember when we pray for Dr P but I’m not even sure whether his wife and mother-in-law and the poor servant girl are remembered in our calendar of remembrances. Praying for him today has reminded me to check and reminds me that we often focus on men rather than women and often focus our prayers more on perpetrators than victims.

    This has been quite a week for trying to remember the victims of crime what with the investigations into the inadequate way the crimes of a Church of England bishop, Peter Ball were dealt with a couple of decades ago. I’ve watched with increasing incredulity the evidence which has been heard by the Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse. The first (and so far only) response from anyone in the Church of England seems to be a reassurance in a statement from the Bishop of Oxford that George Carey will keep his status as a priest in good standing in that church – a statement which makes no mention of the victims of these events.

    So, praying for Dr Pritchard reminds me to pray for his victims and the victims of other crimes and makes me think about how we can reorient our priorities to think about them more adequately.

    Praying for him too this week brings to mind the recent statement from the government that they were not going to seek assurances from the USA that two prisoners will not face the death penalty if they are convicted of abominable crimes in the Middle East.

    I was appalled by these crimes and believe that those who committed them need to face the law and need to be punished if convicted.

    However, for me the death penalty will do nothing other than make them martyrs and ensure that their name will be revered longer than it ever should be remembered. There’s nothing like a state sponsored execution for making sure someone is remembered after all.

    It is my view that the death penalty is wrong in all circumstances and that the government is utterly wrong to play fast and loose with principles which have been held by our governments (of different political hues) for decades.

    Sending people abroad to be tried and possibly killed if found guilty is the outsourcing of our demons who go by the names Retribution and Revenge. As is the case with rendition flights that enabled torture which may have been made from the airport that I often use to go on holiday to the sun, outsourcing things that would be illegal here still leaves our hands dripping with blood and is the solution to nothing in the long term whilst making the barbarous seem more acceptable by its distance.

    So you see, Dr Pritchard’s death reminds me to pray for the victims of crime and to pray against the death penalty, a penalty which has ensured that I remember Dr Pritchard’s name. And it reminds me that I am responsible for those who make decisions in my name and that I desperately want to assert that those who make such decisions do not do so in my name.

    It also reminds me that the holy are not always the good and that the good are not always holy.

    We pray for living members of the congregation every week too – and they are not uniformly good nor uniformly evil.

    It is within  such paradoxes and inconsistencies that we live.

    And pray.

9 responses to “Who we are”

  1. Susan Sheppard Hedges Avatar
    Susan Sheppard Hedges

    I have a question… What were the genders of these two persons?

    1. kelvin Avatar

      Person 1 was male. Person 2 was female.

  2. Suz Cate Avatar
    Suz Cate

    I arrived here in June, after graduating from the fine institution where you are visiting now and my subsequent ordination as transitional deacon. When I am ordained to the priesthood in December, I will be the first woman to serve as priest at St. James. I have sensed a growing excitement, especially among the women here, about the ministry of a woman priest–not unlike the the frisson expressed in the visitor’s statement: “Really? Wow! All this, and divorce and women priests.” We are figuring out together what difference it makes who we are, and on most days it is exciting!

  3. Calum Avatar
    Calum

    I think the exchange is completely adorable. But also bang-on accurate. The Piskies are indeed “the ones with woman priests” – it’s not a bad moniker to be known by, is it? Although progress is still to be made in certain parts, I think it’s positive that that might be how some people identify and distinguish Episcopalians.

  4. Tracey Avatar
    Tracey

    The first time I attended an Episcopal church (in California), and they invited me to a picnic afterward on the church grounds. I agreed to stay on, but was kind of dreading it… and then I saw the ice chests full of cans of lager. So yeah, I have to admit that it was at first beer and later, divorce (both of which had caused me to become ostracised from my family) and women priests (i’d been brought up in a fundamentalist church where women were to keep silent in church) that made me become really interested in finding my way into this wonderful, welcoming, non-judgemental, and inclusive group where hell-fire and brimstone and damnation and punishment were never a part of the lovely, uplifting and inspiring sermons.

  5. Nädine Daniel Avatar

    Well in one way, the lack of awareness is pretty depressing, but the willingness to give the Cathedral a try would be encouraging, where it not for the perception that divorce made a denomination more acceptable. Frankly I don’t care what brings someone into a Church, any Church; just so long as we make them want to stay and discover the love of Christ once they get there.

  6. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    I come to this from another angle – a liberal church background. It does not come to me as a surprise to hear women preach, teach and lead. I rejoice in it but the equality of women is no news to me

    Divorce – well, to me it is never more than an admission of failure. Not something to be celebrated and welcomed, but a sad admission that things which started so very happily and hopefully and with such love, have ended in heartbreak. That my sometime husband left me for another woman in the church came pretty close to breaking my heart, and was one of those knife-edge things. A thing where either there will be just damage and misery and loss, or one day a resurrection, and you do not know which. That for me the balance finally tipped to life does not mean that divorce is something I want to rejoice in as I do in the ministry of women.
    That God can turn evil to good is a blessing. It does not do however to continue in evil that He gets a better opportunity at such transformations. I would a jolly sight rather we were known for work for social justice, for respect for the environment, and for really positive things.

    Beauty however – whether sound or image or architecture or the spoken word – yes I love us to be known for that and I rejoice in it.

    1. kelvin Avatar

      I suspect that what we may really talking about here is not actually divorce, but the question of whether divorce and remarriage bars one from communion.

  7. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Recently our Government had the stunning idea that ‘victims’ ought to be choosing the sentences of those who had offended against them. This is my idea of a utter nightmare – to have not merely the need to undertake one’s own recovery, for which one is of course responsible, but to then have to undertake some responsibility for the rehabilitation of those who have offended one strikes me as a bridge too far. I could never ask that somebody is turned away from communion because of an offence against me, and therefore I cannot ask that they are turned away because of a sin against others. I don’t really believe in that kind of God.

    Yet there is a problem. Of all the bad moments I had over the divorce, one of the very worst was the moment I walked alone into church and saw in a prominent pew my husband, who had left but from whom I was not yet legally separated, sitting shoulder to shoulder with his new partner. I ended in the nearest pew on my knees, helplessly sobbing, unable to hide my distress. That should not happen to anybody and it should not be up to the ‘victims’ (however much we espouse a doctrine of equal blame for marriage failure) to protect themselves from such a thing.

    I took communion every week with the lady with whom my husband now lived, and every week I had to forgive her anew in order to offer the Peace and forgive her. It was, to put it mildly, a big ask. That, to me, is the essential reality of divorce, and I really, really, really do have the right to say that we may have divorce and we may have to live with it, but the reality of it is pain and hard hard work. I find no ‘Wow!’ anywhere in it. It was hard and bitter punishment for all the stupid things I had managed to do in 30 years of marriage.

    There is always a cost to be borne for such things. We believe in forgiveness and fresh starts, and I must suppose the ‘Wow!’ is for that – but such things are costly. I believe they are always costly for God, and most usually they are costly for humans too. I don’t want humans judged, but – but where the joy of person A is bought at the price of the pain of person B we need to tread exceedingly circumspectly.

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