A Worm's Eye View

Better late than never... (Or not, you judge.) One of the things we are meant to do at least once in training is preach a short homily to the college at Morning Prayer on a Thursday. My turn came on 27 November last, when the set readings were Isaiah 41:8-20 and Revelation 16:12-20.  (We generally use the New Revised Standard Version, some of the references may be more obvious from there. If you like, you should find the exact text here and here.)

There are some interesting discussions on the precise translation of a couple of the words in the Isaiah passage in commentaries, and common Bible versions take slightly different  lines. Nothing very evidently at stake theologically, and I resisted every temptation to get involved in that...

Here's what I said:

There’s nothing glamorous about a worm. If they’re famous for anything, it’s their propensity to mistake almost any vibration for rain, bringing them to the surface. The world record for charming worms – bringing them to the surface by thumping a garden fork with a lump of wood – is 511 worms in a three by three metre area in thirty minutes. So they’re not famously intelligent and they’re not celebrated for their value in battle. “A worm, a worm, my kingdom for a worm.” I don’t think so.

“Do not fear, you worm Jacob,” says the LORD in the Isaiah reading. Well, it’s hardly flattering, is it? At a time of great political change, when empires are on the move and nations are falling, Israel is small, weak, pathetic, divided, irrelevant, a worm. Perhaps that’s how they are being made fun of; perhaps that’s how they’ve started to think of themselves.

Perhaps that’s how we’ve started to think of ourselves: “You worm, Ridley. What can you possibly achieve, huddled in here day after day with your prayer books? No-one wants you, no-one is listening to you, you aren’t going to command wealth, or power, or even respect. You worm.”

It’s in the moment of desolation that God’s voice speaks most clearly. “I have chosen you and not cast you off... I will strengthen you, I will help you... Do not fear, you worm... your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel,” says the LORD.

It is because you are of no account, because your pride in who you thought you were or who you thought you would become has been shattered by the bitter experience of reality, because you have given up the illusion of importance, that God will once again choose you, that God will comfort and change you, that God will strengthen and use you. 

This spineless worm in God’s hand will crush mountains, and will see the thirsty drinking from clear streams, and the dispossessed dancing as the desert bursts into life.

“I am a worm, not a human being,” says the Psalm that begins “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When it seems to all the world that the promise has failed, that your hope is hopeless, be patient. In a little while – a hundred years, or a lifetime, or three days time – God will turn everything upside down.

When that happens, when that surely and certainly happens, when after days or after years or after a lifetime you see the desert flowering before your eyes, nobody will be able to say it was because of you. 

No. They will marvel on that day. They will curse or they will bless God, but they will see and know, they will consider and understand, that the hand of the Lord has done this, the Holy One of Israel has created it.

Amen

My Fair Ridley

Sadly my camera let me down this year so no Youtube, but here by popular (!) request are the lyrics to the Parsons/Edwards mini-musical, with apologies to Messrs Lerner and Loewe...

If you don't know 'My Fair Lady' then you should. Buy it! Or search on Youtube and you'll find the originals of these songs by various worthies. Or just try the links I've put in for you.

The scene opens to a slightly bewildered-looking person who has just received some news...

I Could Have Failed My BAP ("I Could Have Danced All Night")
[BAP=Bishops' Advisory Panel, three days away leading to advice to your Bishop whether you should be recommended for training to ordained ministry in the Church of England]
BAP, BAP, I could have failed my BAP
I could have called the Bishop 'Dodgy Dick'
Job, job, I could have kept my job
But now I've got to train to be a vic

I could have failed my BAP
I could have failed my BAP
What made me such a fool?
I could have run away
Gone off on holiday
But no, it's back to school
I'll never know what made me so convincing
I'm like a crab caught in a trap
I only hope the rest were smart and flunked the test
I could have failed, failed, failed my BAP

[Job's comforters appear on cue]
I understand, friend - but it's all planned, friend
Don't cry for milk that's spilled

You didn't fail your BAP
Now there's no turning back
It's time for you to go
Where would you like to train?
We want to fill your brain
With stuff you don't yet know

And now I know what makes it so, so frightening
I'm off to vicar factory
At least I get to choose
What have I got to lose?
Because I passed, passed, passed my BAP

BAP passed, it's time to visit theological colleges. So many to choose from. It's a gamble. Will luck be a lady? Hmmm, I should have written this as Guys and Dolls, shouldn't I?

Wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley ("Wouldn't It Be Loverley")
All I want is a room somewhere
Small and dark and I have to share
One good and one duff chair
Oh, wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley

Lots of chocolates and all fair trade
Lots of lunches just like home made
And I'd be poorly paid
Oh, wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley

Oh, so loverly readin' lots of that theo-lo-gee
I'd be happy I'm on B, C, E, F or even G ("What about H?" "Nah, miserable bunch")

[Assorted Ridlebeests are espied about their joyous daily routine]
"Someone said morning prayer all wrong"
"Must we learn yet another song"
"The basement showers all pong"
Oh wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley (Rid-er-ley)
Rid-er-ley (Rid-er-ley)
Wouldn't it be Rid-er-ley


Cut to a few months later. Student life has begun, and bewilderment has increased. Still, there's plenty of time for reflection afforded by the journey between the Cambridge Theological Federation colleges' rooms, conveniently strung out around the Inner Ring Road. As the sun twinkles romatically off the juggernaut that just tried to run you down at Westminster College roundabout, oh! what a beautiful morning it is. (Oklahoma!, that's what I meant to rip off I mean pay homage to.)

Off Round The Ring Road Again ("On The Street Where You Live")

I have often walked down this street before
I am tired and I am grumpy and my feet are sore
It's compulsory to do an SCP
So I'm off round the ring road again

A contemporary church, that's what we all seek
We've got Books of Common Prayer and we are learning Greek
And it's very odd, there's no time for God
'Cos it's off round the ring road again

And oh, the wonderful feeling
Just to know he's somewhere, not far
But now my poor head is reeling
No-one told me Ridley doesn't have a bar!

Once I thought I knew all that I believed
But a lecturer has told me that I was deceived
I'm going round the bend: Jesus was my friend
Now I'm off round the ring road again

And oh, the wonderful feeling
When we come together to praise
I know when I am kneeling
That he's chosen me to serve him all my days

I've been broken down: that don't bother me
If they laughed at the Messiah then they'll laugh at me
Now this lecture's done, and it's ten to one
So I'm off round the ring road again

[SCP=Social Context Placement, time spent outside study in an unfamiliar environment]

All good things come to an end... If you don't blot your copybook too badly, you'll be ordained, somewhere. Your sending diocese may have something for you, or you could be 'exported.' In regular life, companies export things people want. The Church, of course, works differently: dioceses export unwanted ordinands to seek their fortune elsewhere... Hmmm, perhaps I should have written this as panto, not Eliza Doolittle but Dick Whittington?

I’m Getting Deaconed in the Summer ("I'm Getting Married In The Morning")
I'm getting deaconed in the summer
If someone wants to ordain me
I've been exported
Must get it sorted
Get me to a curacy

I've got to clear off in the summer
"Where?" Well, you'll have to wait and see
Profiles I'm reading
Mostly misleading
Help! I need a curacy

What can I handle? Will I be go...
...ing up the candle or snakebelly low?

I'm a Leaver - leaving in the summer
What have I learnt? What will I be?
Rural team cleric?
Urban evangelic?
How do you choose a curacy?

I need to buy some medieval kit
There's an allowance - don't spend every bit
(Save some for the bubbly)

[Majestic finish]
I'm getting deaconed in the summer
This ship is searching for a See
Ridley's done my brain in
Three years more training
Are waiting when I start
Are waiting when I start
Are waiting when I start my curacy

So, friends, it's been a low trick. Three years, or two years, or one year of training leads to... three or four years of training. Bah! Humbug! I knew I should have written this as A Christmas Carol. Sigh. As Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one.

Requiescat in pace Mark Autherson

Remembrance Day

The bell rings for remembrance. We obey
Its call: we reach with hands of faith to touch
Lost fingers of the fallen so they may
Receive this next instalment from the much

We owe to those who went ahead, whose blood
Was spent for good, for ill, for its whole worth.
Now frayed and faded images in wood
Are bone-by-bone mute witness under earth.

Mark’s blood betrayed him. His remembrance day
Is poppy-studded, wears its suit ill-pressed,
Finds tears choke words of love we long to say –
Until deep laughter helps recall him best.

Under that plain cross on light-dappled wall
We hear his song: “God is my all and all.”

For Mark Autherson, 1971-2008

Dreaming Spires

Being in theological college provokes all kinds of questions.

What’s it for? Why do you study for two (or one, or three, or four, or seven) years?

One question I have as a Church of England ordinand is: why, when these days most of us enter training with a significant amount of post-school ‘life experience’ (not my phrase, and yes, that mainly means we’re oldies), is the philosophy to treat this as at best an occasional inconvenience, at worst a positive barrier to effective ministerial formation. I do not mean this question flippantly, and certainly not disrespectfully.

One part of the answer is probably crude economics. It’s cheapest to train a relatively undifferentiated group in a relatively undifferentiated way. And I marvel, in the case of the college I know best, how far the five loaves and two fish go towards feeding us all; yet the biblical parallel fails, as there are no crumbs left over.

But this is crude economics. To the extent that we comply in suppressing rather than expressing the knowledge, skills and experience of whatever portion of life preceded training – to precisely that extent we are buying into a questionable model of priests (presbyters if you prefer, same root word) as not merely specially set aside for service, but as specially set aside from life.

With the people I know best here, I know some of their story and some of their talents, of course. But I also see those stories being condensed – in them and in me – into another volume. And if this were not true at least in part, something would be wrong, because we must learn to be different from that past self and to do differently. And yet...

We have offered our whole selves. I must learn to say simply, with Jo recalling her sacrificial offering of hair,

“I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that. I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short rough ends of my head. It almost seemed as if I’d an arm or leg off. The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I’ll give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by, for a crop is so comfortable I don’t think I shall ever have a mane again.”

And then,

“It’s only the vain part of me that goes and cries in this silly way.”

Being a Guerrilla Christian

It's a work in progress. With hindsight, in spite of every good intention last year, far too much of my time and attention went into the lovely but limited circle of the theological community. My new (academic) year's resolution has been to make sure that spare energy - and most especially that which I'm tempted to devote to attempts to reform things here at Ridley - goes outwards.

So here are some of the things I am determined not to put (much!) time, effort or brainpower towards:

1. The antediluvian administrative structure for students, which guarantees a lack of teamwork on community responsibilities, ensures inequality in the division of labour and creates that special combination of inefficiency and near-effectiveness that prevents the resource that is our joint time and effort being available to respond to need and opportunity


2. The Common Room's indifference to the administrative burden and intensified financial hardship (to the college) of a new payment regime for students


3. Our shared failure to take an interest in the student world beyond our own Victorian walled garden, whether in theological or general academe, and learn from their experience and practice

That list-making needs, then, to be the end of my musing on these three topics. The first and best of what's freed by this resolution needs to go to my family, who inevitably bear the lion's share of the burden of our change of circumstances as a result of a call to ministry. And the next in line is The Outside World.

The first flowering of this latter is being put up as the 'older and wiser' head on a panel for a 'grill a Christian' evening. I can guarantee 50% achievement on this measure, at least. And I am of an age when making a complete fool of myself is absolutely no deterrent, so as far as I can see the worst that can happen is that someone asks a clever question to which all I can answer is 'wibble,' while the upside is if someone can argue me out of faith I can give up this life of giving up and go back to consultancy, holidays and money.

If you have a praying disposition and are reading this on the day, do keep me in mind this evening. It would be great not to be the scaffolding that spoils someone's view of Jesus.

Seconds out, round two

Here I am, back in harness for my second and final year of pre-ordination training: lots of new faces, lots of familiar ones, a sense of anticipation.  For this year's leavers, there's a mood change. Some have curacies sorted out near to where they were sent from, some in other places, the rest are at various stages of the search.

There's been some freshening up, lots of new paint, lots of old furniture. Which is a bit like us, as we are sent out, fresh paint ready to be slapped on somewhere.

And - of course - there are rapidly filling diaries and rotas, there are bills and kitties: this is the Church, after all.

More than one conversation has shown me that many of us are already experiencing that sense that what's a few months ahead is more real than this immediate future.  I don't want to lose touch with that sense of destination, or rather of that sense of the next station in this journey; but nor do I want to lose out on the present, on these precious, privileged months of close fellowship, on the opportunities there may be to serve in this city.

It's Autumn, and we are leaves reddening for the coming fall.  In the natural way of things, the next step is a drying to dust or a dampening to mould. It takes the eyes of faith to see the possibility of ingrafting to another tree, leading to new growth and a new sharing of life.

Mission is possible

Four of us have been on mission in Ely Cathedral this week. Not 'a mission' but part of the ongoing mission, working as day chaplains and talking to anyone and everyone who ventures in or near the building.

Ely is a small city with a big cathedral, thanks to the Saxon Princess Etheldreda, who founded a double monastery (for men and women) in the 7th century. It became a place of pilgrimage, leading to the building of a great Norman Abbey with Etheldreda's shrine, and the establishment of the cathedral and its diocese.

The cathedral church of the Holy and Undivided Trinity suffered a setback in the 1300s when one of its towers collapsed, but this led to a great symbol of resurrection with the building of the Octagon and its lantern that draws a quarter of a million visitors a year to the former swampy island.

The Victorians carried out major refurbishments, opening the inside of the building into one glorious sweep, installing the beautiful stained glass windows and building a beamed and painted roof that draws gasps from all but the fussiest (and most historically naive!) visitors.

More recently, refurbishments to mark the millenium included restoration of the Lady Chapel, a new enclosed processional walkway and a range of sculptures around the building. Well over a thousand years of praise and prayer are in the foundations of this church (buildings and people).

So much for the history. The present is the 'nerve centre' of Ely diocese, which includes Cambridge and Huntingdon alongside the many fenland towns and villages. Until a couple of days ago, that was my diocese: my 'sending church' is a Cambridge church, Holy Trinity, so I came to train as an Ely ordinand.

Ely isn't exactly short of ordinands, and I now know I'm not one of the privileged few who will remain but one of the large majority who are 'exported' - so my hunt for a curacy somewhere starts here. Or it will when we're past the grieving stage. Meanwhile, back to the week of mission.
Four of us - Jamie, Nick and Stefan and myself - donned cassocks and badges and met between us lots and lots of people. Our job in a nutshell was to offer prayer to and for all who felt in need, and to help all our visitors to relate the buildings and their history, Jesus whose story is told by those buildings, their fixtures and the daily pattern of services, and their own life and story. Not in a ramming-religion-down-your-throat kind of way, just being available, friendly and taking a few risks. It's genuinely a privilege to meet so many people from so many places near and far.

Looking up in the octagon there's a 14th century statue of the crucified and risen Christ, showing (assisted with Victorian paint and beams from every age in between) one hand raised in blessing and displaying the wounds that mark the brokenness he received from us and took into the very heart of God for us.

His blessing offered freely and his voluntary suffering are always the beginning of the Gospel. For our own issues we receive not always relief, not even an explanation, but always that loving, wounded hand reaching out to take ours.

Royal Tea

Hushed expectancy...
Two heirs to two thrones and the senior student
...Caption competition...
The Royal Wave

Ridleians grapple with contemporary issues of conflict

Time flu

He looks like I felt. Flu was the story of my Easter holiday, and as someone who isn't often ill I'm a lousy patient.

Not good for reading, revising or writing, sigh.

(In case you're wondering about the picture, Doctor Who came to town - assorted monsters, at least - for Science Week.)

So this, the traditional time for lazy pursuits, needs to be the term when Jack is a very dull boy indeed. Hence I suspect I won't be a-blogging much or often.

I thought I was fully recovered at the end of last week, but here at the end of this week I realise that I was still a long way off form - so maybe there's a bit of post-viral pain still to come. But with that reservation, at last I'm back somewhere that I can get excited about what I'm reading, hearing, seeing, doing.

One sign of that is that I need a little time to digest what's exciting, usually through another activity like cycling, poetry or photography.

For several reasons I could have done with a free morning, but I'm very glad I made it to Michael Green's lecture.

21 years ago, it was in his study that I turned my back on the clinical atheism of my teenage years and the trendy agnosticism of the start of my twenties, and got set on the path that got me here.

Twenty years late, maybe, but perhaps even this dry old stick may bud and blossom.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

3 March 2008
The Queen has approved the nomination of the Reverend Canon Christopher John Cocksworth BA, PhD, PGCE, Principal of Ridley Hall, Cambridge, for election as Bishop of Coventry in succession to the Right Reverend Colin James Bennetts MA, who resigned on 31 January 2008.

http://www.number-10.gov.uk/output/Page14821.asp

The Lent We're Given

I've been out and about with my camera: go see my latest nature photo album ->

We had staircase pancake race on, well you can probably work out when. My role was to eat.

I think I did it rather well :)

There is a press furore about the Archbishop of Canterbury. So this notice may be of concern...

So who is my preferred archbishop? We ordinands need to keep our heads down!

Well, this isn't getting my reading list read. Bye for now!

Reasons to be Cheerful - Ridley

With apologies to Ian Dury

Old dogs learn new tricks... More straw for the bricks... Need a caffeine fix
Baked beans in the stews... Telling the Good News... Friday staircase booze
Mission fields to gaze on... Study beds to laze on... Kyrie eleison
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Practising your part... Essays you can't start... Soaking in Karl Barth
Fighting the good fight... Reading N T Wright... Never jump the light
Iron sharpening iron... Friends you can rely on... Peter with his tie on
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Practise all your tact... Tell the myth from fact... Read the righteous act
Chapel's atmospheric... Wannabe a cleric... Being evangelic
Thank the church that picked us... Westcott's never licked us... Sing the Benedictus
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Time spent on your knees... Hot pud, cake or cheese... Split up into threes
All the stuff we're taught... Books unread but bought... Please keep off the Court
Preach and they don't boo ya... PCCs can sack or sue ya... Glory, hallelujah
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Never playing hookey... Be a holy rookie... Have a fairtrade cookie
Time for Mission Tea... Using BCP... We're the C of E!
Talented yet humble... Making Dawkins crumble... Watch out, Nicky Gumble
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Preaching to a fen... Singing in the rain... Mission soup again
Up for morning prayer... Time to read's so rare... Napping in my chair
Clinging to the cross... Counting all but loss... Don't forget who's boss
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Whizz past dreaming spires... Reading all the flyers... Pumping up your tyres
Have an essay crisis... Say hi to the Spices... Surtaxed choccy prices
Supper looks alarming... Always being charming... Antiphonal psalming
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Porridge in your bowl... Freedom in your soul... God bless Charlie Moule
Working like a Trojan... Here I'll make my sojourn... I'm a theologian
Ministry formation... Good news for the nation... Up the Federation!
Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley Reasons to be cheerful - Ridley

Royalty - May this song minister to you this Christmas

Royalty

I was hungry, and you fed me
I was lost until you led me
From the misery of my own poverty
I knew nothing till you taught me
Your free gift of grace has brought me
The great riches of your kingly royalty

Chorus
Royalty, royalty
Thank you for your royalty
Though this song of mine's so terse
Every time you sing this verse
20p goes in my purse
From your royalty


Bought a guitar, learned to strum it
Wrote a tune so you could hum it
Then I had to find some words you'd love to hear
Words like 'love' and 'peace' and 'holy'
Then some rhymes like 'cease' and 'soul'....y
And a bit to sing up high - like this bit here

Chorus

Chorus (last time)
Royalty, royalty
I just love this royalty
I'm so glad, Lord, to know you
'Many mansions' - yes, it's true
It's not bad, what you can do
With the earnings that accrue
From ten songs and a year or two
Of royalty

Copyright © 2007 Jeremy Parsons

20p payable for each use :)

Watch at YouTube

It's too long since I was here

It's been too long since I was here - sorry!

For a change I've put some public photos on facebook - if you want to see more I usually make them friends only so you'll have to join, but these you should be able to see regardless: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=20836&l=99e65&id=670216802

Things that have happened recently include:

• My first deaconing (i.e. assisting up front for the service, on this occasion robed, a real thrill :) )
• My first preaching slot at my attachment slot (as far as I know, no-one stormed out afterwards)
• My first proper essay (OK, OK, you had it much tougher)

The college communion service was very interesting, as I was on the planning team. Happily I didn't have anything too responsible to do, so I was able to have fun taking piccies, some of which were used in various guises. Here's a selection.

It's all Greek to me

Quite a day. Not exactly typical, but thoroughly enjoyable.

First to chapel for morning prayer, after which I forgot to sign up for lunch - again :(

Fortunately I'd brought in some tiffin I made last night, so all was not lost. (And OK, I went home for lunch. But that's later)

Morning prayer mainly follows Common Worship: if you want to see today's service in full including the psalm for the day, readings appointed in the lectionary see this link. Sometimes these services feature music and sometimes not, although there's music in the poetry of the Psalms and the Canticles.

We've been following through a passion narrative: this reminded me of my first attempt in a long time to rediscover my joy in creative writing in 2003, which is gradually becoming part of my life again. It's exciting to me that quite a few people here at Ridley have a real interest in reuniting faith and the arts.

Next off for the first lecture in Church History, which was very enjoyable, making some helpful connections between events in the Roman Empire and in the first days of the Church.

In the afternoon we had a staircase football challenge.

I'll admit to mixed feelings about football. I love to play though, as with singing, I bring rather more gusto than skill.

Unlike singing, said gusto then fades rather rapidly, to be relaced with resigned yet dogged determination to survive.

We at 'H' made achieved a glorious first round exit. (Then a draw.)

Then I had agreed to referee a later match, and somehow found myself playing instead. This old body didn't take so kindly to 20 more minutes of football... Great fun, though.

To quote the original DNA001 (clue! clue!) I felt like a military academy - bits of me kept passing out.

Then home, before we headed off again to see that once every three years Cambridge treat the Greek play - Medea performed in Greek with surtitles.

I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially as our seats were on stage so we had the action 'up close and personal.'

My New Testament Greek is at a pretty early stage, so I was delighted to find that I was picking up words and phrases and felt my ear was tuned in. Anna came too and enjoyed the experience, though a fun-filled-feelgood-family-feast it isn't.

Continuing the Greek theme, we stopped by at the very nice Greek takeaway for falafel and chips. Then chatted over a glass of wine with our very kind neighbour who babysat. And so to bed.

The Poem What I Wrote (when I should have been doing Greek)

IF(with apologies to R.K.)

If you can spring from bed when every neighbour
Thinks Morning Prayer's a crazy thing to do,
If liturgy's a herculean labour,
Yet still you treat the Canticle as new,
If you can don and doff surplice or cassock
Or do without liturgical disguise,
And sit on chair, then stand, then kneel on hassock
With look most beatific in your eyes:
If you can bellow hymn then in your best sot-
-to voce breathe prayer only God may hear;
Raise hands at Ridley, thurible at Westcott,
With tact and grace and always most sincere;
If you can bear to hear both pop and chanting
And follow either path to praise your Lord,
Or hear the preacher wiffling or ranting
And never once betray that you are bored:
If you can mine the gold that's in the scriptures
And never merely bend them to your will,
And turn your hard work into felt-tip pictures
For nine year olds who never can sit still;
If you can study dusty books by Germans
When others to the pub have long adjourned,
And, knowing none of it will help your sermons,
Yet be resolved to keep what you have learned;
If you can talk to drunkards, dons and dustmen,
To students who weren't born when you left school,
And turn to each a patient ear and just, when
You'll come across as one more Holy Fool,
If two hard years of work leave you believing
The word of life's good news for Everyman,
You'll have deserved the honour you're receiving,
And -- which is more -- you'll be an Anglican.

Jeremy P

Holy Rollers, Batman

Have you ever felt that so much is going on you'll never assimilate all the impressions? It could be an unsettling experience, but it's more a happy daze at this stage!

As the termcard lectures get going, I'm starting to get more of a feel of how my time will be spent. As a mathematician by first degree, the whole business of essay research, planning and writing at University level is new to me, but the whole system is geared to getting us all used to it. The atmosphere is friendly, with people from a wide range of backgrounds.

So let me tell you a little about the course I'm on, the University of Cambridge Bachelor of Theology for Ministry (B.Th). It's a vocational degree - similar for instance to a Bachelor of Education (B.Ed) - designed to provide both the academic and practical knowledge a prospective Christian minister needs.

Teaching is delivered by the Theological Federation, which I've mentioned before, as well as by the Divinity Faculty. In the case of Faculty lectures, the resulting work is again within the Federation.

Each of the Federation Houses (Ridley Hall is one of these) has its particular denominational allegiance and distinctive emphases, which result in the specific experience of students (mainly but not exclusively ordinands like me) attending each. So, for instance, there are Ridley-specific activities - some are compulsory, some are optional. Happily there are Directors of Studies making sure that course structures overall and the programme for each individual meet the requisite needs of course and church.

Some of the work is study-based, some is experience and reflection-based. In the latter category is the Pastoral Portfolio, a substantial piece of work resting on actual activities we undertake and our theological reflections on them. Speaking personally, this is the least familiar but probably the most vital area of preparation for ministry, as we have the opportunity now to work in unfamiliar contexts under supervision and with joint reflection and so develop our abilities (not least our lifelong learning abilities) in real-life situations of need.

So now let me give you an idea of the pattern of a typical week and of life between terms. (I may be wrong on all sorts of important details, though!)

Weekdays in the University term, mornings start with a service of morning prayer followed by timetabled lectures and seminars, afternoons are mainly geared to study, then some evenings involve specific commitments. Saturday is generally kept free, and on Sundays we will be involved with the specific church to which we're attached (we've all been visiting prospective attachment churches and this is being finalised over the next couple of weeks).

We get an extra period before and after the University term when there are additional lectures, other short courses and so on, plus several vacations will be punctuated by activities, notably mission, church placement (a block period of weeks to live and work in another place) and in some cases block period Social Context Placement.

Oh, yes, and of course at various times there will be exams. Mustn't forget that particular blessing.

My general impression is that, as we expected, it's demanding in time without destroying the possibility of family life in the process. And Cambridge itself as a backdrop and workplace is a very pleasant bonus.

There. Now you know all I do. And you're perhaps getting a sense of why at this rather early hour I'm now more than ready for bed.

Good night :)

Reflections - Noughth Week

OK, Cambridge doesn't have a noughth week as Oxford does, but I can't think of a better way to describe it.

So many faces, so many impressions, so many hints and happenings...

Let me offer you just a sketch of life and events here.

First, some basics.

One important focus of Ridley life is the staircase. We live in, study in or are otherwise attached to one - in my case, it's the second of those options, sharing a study with Toby, another married ordinand.

So this morning, for instance, we had morning prayer on the staircase. Christina led, and as this is the day for alternative approaches she chose an Iona-influenced style, simple and reflective.

I wonder whether I'll find more time and space to write while I'm here... In any case, the following brief verse came to me while we were choosing and reflecting on a single word in prayer.

***

Feed

In hope and expectation we arrive.
Our hearts cry out to you our deepest need:
Pour out your love that we may grow and thrive.
In stillness hear the softest voice: "now, feed."

In joyful expectation we are sent
Into the field where you have scattered seed
And some grows strong; and some is bruised and bent.
In stillness hear the softest voice: "now, feed."

***

Some time I'll put something about our first foundation lecture, which also included a time of commissioning. It's quite personal, so you'll have to wait until I've digested more thoroughly.

From today's, though, I heard something from Jeremy (another one - there are several of us here!) that struck me as the starting-point for ministry. I won't have his words exactly right, but anyway, in the context of what it is to receive the grace of God shown in Jesus Christ, he said something like this,

"Sometimes people talk about grace and faith as if it boiled down to presents
we receive or will receive from God. Well, we get bored of gifts.
But we never get bored of someone who loves us."

So, back to the much more mundane, but still important, topic of food. Like most prizes of great worth, this treasure is guarded most fiercely as you can see here.

Everything hinges on getting used to signing up in advance for meals. There is a superficially simple system involving index cards, plastic boxes and paper clips: these can be dealt with on previous days, or at latest by breakfast time. (I have got the hang of breakfast, by the way :) )

Like chess, there are a few basic moves to the game, but the appearance of simplicity is exceptionally misleading. Novices like myself fall prey very easily to the subtleties.

There is grace in the system, though: the end of the queue, behind those successful signer-uppers, is a place of optimism that is generally justified.

Suffice it to say that I now regard the advanced players with great esteem.

Well, that was maybe not a very structured reflection. But then, it is noughth week (to me, at least) and so life feels a little chaotic. By a couple of weeks hence, the regular timetable will have well and truly kicked in, and everything will be relatively neat and tidy I'm sure.

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my time more than I can say. I am so grateful for this opportunity to be trained for full time ordained ministry, and delighted to find myself in the company of such an interesting and varied group of people.

The next few days will be quite busy, as there are events and functions to do with college. I'm rather looking forward to matriculation - my first chance to wear that MA gown, which I'm amazed but delighted to find has survived the ravages of time.

As a slightly older student, it's rather reassuring to see that the rhythm of University life is drawn by the same force. The tides ebb and flow, regular and predictable in an overall sense, yet close-up there is never the same pattern left on the sands by stones that are washed up and exposed, then washed out and disappear from view.