Mary came up to me at the end of a service to ask “Why do we
need to love ourselves?” Now there’s a loaded question, steeped in overtones of
‘I’m having difficulty loving myself’, so mentally I took a deep breath and then
had a stab at answering her.
I began this blog in the exilic state, 4 years ago, of
having been turned down for ordination by my bishop of the time. I have of late
been re-visiting the issue, but yesterday my Diocesan Director of Ordinands (DDO)
sat with me to impart the news that the decision still stands. No-one has been
convinced of any reason to change it.
At the heart of the decision is the lack of conviction in
others that I can … well … elucidate? (no) … describe? (sort of) … enunciate?
(spit it out, man, spit it out!) … verbalize? (almost there: c’mon) … to whatever it is my call to ordained
ministry. I am unable to explain persuasively to others what it is that I feel
God is calling me to, and why. You see the problem.
I am reminded, though perhaps it is a false memory, that the
protagonist in Douglas Adams’s book Dirk
Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency is socially inept. When insulted by
someone, he comes back with a cracking retort … about 4 hours later when tucked
up in bed in his fleecy pyjamas. My memory of Douglas Adams’s art and literacy
is perhaps flawed, but I am left with self-recognition of the character.
I am surrounded by loving support at this time, though that
is a state I have enjoyed for a very long while. It therefore pains me to see
how others are affected by my afflictions, among whom I include those who have
had to rake up the past to consider how they arrived at the recommendation they
did. They feel that all the evidence – or rather, the lack of it – shows that
the system has worked well which has protected both someone who might be
ordained, and a potential flock, from a wrong move.
In reporting to me how fully and sensitively the matter has
been looked at, my DDO used the phrase ‘nebulous’ in relation to my efforts at
describing my calling. It is a word I’m familiar with, being right in there in
the Ed Psych’s report into my dyslexia. I have, I was told at that time, a
somewhat nebulous problem with organization. That is, I find it difficult to
martial ideas to a coherent argument or plan of action. I know and somehow instinctively
understand more than I am able to say: so when asked something important, I incline
to panic. How very frustrating, my Ed Psych told me, I must find it to have
such an intellect and yet not be able to convey its machinations.
A ministry issue attaches to this problem. If I cannot
describe why it is I feel that there is a tonsure-shaped hole in my ministry, a
gap where a collar seems right, then how might I deal with matters of deep theological
and practical pastoral concern raised by a parishioner?
Which brings me back to Mary and her softly put, slightly
apprehensive, question: “Why do we need to love ourselves?” I find myself
affirmed that people like Mary hear God speaking to them when I lead worship;
glad that they find me approachable regarding their struggles; surprised that I
can after all begin an ‘ad hoc’ dialogue on themes such as authentic love for
others being present only when we can love ourselves; aware of the un-asked
question that needs to be given time to emerge; and finally that I actually,
substantially, care.
It is right that someone unable to articulate – thank you,
Sara: that’s the word! – a sense of calling should be treated with caution when
they persist in seeking ordination. I have, when all is said and done,
struggled for many years with that very issue: why me, God? And thus we come to
a rising tide of anger, no – frustration, within me which is fuelled not by the
decision that I should not be ordained, but by my growing suspicion that
perhaps the church – that is to say, people like Mary and I – has gaps in its
ability to help ordinary people articulate their fears, faith, or feelings. It
seems to me damningly to indict the system: a system that rightly strives to
avoid ‘priming’ me with model answers to questions of discernment, but seems
utterly unable to perceive that my real need is to be equipped to articulate those
unspoken thoughts upon which ministry and other decisions might be based.
I have the feeling that Mary might benefit from joining the
right sort of house or Lent group (she and I both). By the grace of God perhaps
I may have a part in helping her to seek and acknowledge the forgiveness that
seems thus far to have eluded her. But I find above all that I am deeply distressed
that I have brought myself to be forbidden from entering into that sacramental ministry
by which I might absolve her in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour.
I stand at the foot of the cross. And I feel, God forgive
me, the weight of a hammer in my hand. I have failed my Lord, yet still he loves
me. His love endures for ever. If I can persuade you of nothing else, trust me
in this.
