The Changes in a Vicar's Mind

I am of an age where there was life before and life after. I am not speaking of the children that enhance my existence, or indeed of the noble vehicle of their delivery (known around here as Mrs Acular). I am, of course, speaking of ordination and all things priestly. 

I arrived at the point of Holy Orders in my mid-thirties, so had had some time to formulate some views on life before that momentous day. However, being a priest grants me some fairly unique experiences (among them seeing underneath a high altar, but an event to which I do not refer), and as such have changed my perception of the world in some specific ways. 

1. Human existence: I have now done so many funerals (I have exceeded thirty this year already) that I have a fundamentally altered view of the whole human existence thing. I spend so many hours and days summarising people's whole lives in mere breaths that I realise how briefly we exist and how fragile we are. No sooner do we arrive than we check-out. If I were an atheist (or worse still, by far, a Humanist) I would be quite clear that if this were actually it, that morality could sod right off - that I am going to do the best I can for me and my clan. That we are here so briefly convinces me that there has to be more. God has to exist or else this vast intelligence and eloquence we develop in our brief planetary stop would seem an awfully high achievement just to nourish invertebrates. There has to be a higher greater wider purpose to us, or else what a waste of time talent education and opportunity. Psalm 139 is now a very close friend of mine. 

2. Cynicism - on good days and bad, on grey days and bright - I have to be the paradigm of positivism. I have to be the happy chappy of the parish, the smiling geezer in the black dress, all fired up and ready to go. I have to model the hope I preach, walk in the grace I am bestowed with and always  - always - have that deportment of man with wind in his sails and a Single Malt in his veins. The thing is, there are times (not many) when I am in church in a black mood. There are times when I am taking a proverbial kicking over some triviality when instead of the beneficent smile you see, I am harbouring notions about prolonged death-doing.  Simply put, I am not always in a good mood, dammit. This comes at a price, this Vicar Front thing - it makes me more and more cynical in every season. It would explain why gatherings of priests are either grinning inanely or catty - either one or the other. You ask Mrs Acular, she'll tell you. Of an evening I flake out on my settee and basically slag the telly off for hours at a time. And it gets worse over time. 

3. Children - partly as a result of the fruits of my wife's loins, but also in no small part to the work I do, I am bowled over by the innate theology and abilities of even the smallest children. I am increasing of the the view that we are born with all that we need for life save for some of the logistical abilities, and that we spend the years of our lives disarming ourselves of those things we were once gifted to do. This week's question from one of the Twins Aculae is "daddy, who made God". Give me a theologian who can answer that meaningfully, and let them explain to my five year old. I am guessing that already my daughter will articulate an answer better than I can. Open-mindedness, warm heartedness, lack of coy-ness, directness, clarity of thought-ness: kids have all of these things. I am now of a view that if you are going to expound something or issue a platitude on something else, you should do so in front of a child of three-to-five and see what the response is. I am willing to bet you would not utter any more and that by default, the pages of Facebook would be empty. 

4. I am what I am, and what I am needs no excuses: Early posts on this blog betrayed an inner-panic about my relatively new ordained status. I didn't feel worthy (and I still don't) but I have now learned to live with it. I know how preposterous I am, so I care little that anyone else does too. Actually, I would go further. I believe I was born to do this. I love the life I lead and feel finally like I have arrived where I was destined to arrive. If you don't like me, that is not my problem. If you disagree with me, tell me. If I repel you, then go away. I am finally at peace with myself and I rather like it. 

5. I am ready to own a dog. If I can cope with twins, a dog ought to be a cinch!

Cloake Out

(If you are going to a Belt of Green, have a great time. I can't be there this year so will pray for you all and the quagmire that will unfold beneath your tents this weekend)

An Atheist and an Anglo-Catholic at Greenbelt

I was at Greenbelt this year, for a day - to be helpful. That I was nearly refused entry is a tale for another day, but I have to confess to having enjoyed the whole experience. I was able to draw some conclusions about how Christians ought to look, and I have resolved to think about buying a hoody in due course. The tie-dye patchwork dungaree things won't trouble my inner-monologue, but they too were much in evidence. 

But this, kids, is not what I sat here to write about. A mate of mine, known to many of you as Gurdur (on Twitter and other places), known to me as Tim - a finer antipodean resident of the German state you will not find, was also there. The thing is, he is an atheist. He styles himself as 'extremely' atheistic, which is to say that he not only doesn't believe in God, but that he really seriously doesn't believe in God. Hold in your thoughts that I do, of course. 

We spent a good amount of time on that day wandering together talking about many things, approaching stall-holders and taking interest in their 'product'. This followed one of those embarrassing social-media moments when, thinking you know someone really well because you have 'chatted' many times, meant that upon seeing him in the flesh for the first time, I greeted him as an old friend, embrace and all. He thanked me very sincerely and then asked who the hell I was. How we laughed ...

Tim is a remarkable man. He, like I, had experienced painful times at such gatherings in our pasts (though not Greenbelt, I should state). Be both felt like fish out of water, for similar yet wholly dissimilar reasons. In fact that sense galvanised us in our encounter, Christian to Atheist, as we moved about the place looking and watching. It generated, I thought, some rather helpful discussions - and I think helpful for us both. What aided us in this endeavour was a the fact that he is about the most open-minded man I have ever encountered, and I wasn't remotely interested in converting him. We were simply two humans, talking about levels of existence within our frameworks of reference. 

My day at Greenbelt was a source of much pleasure. Helping people work forwards in their vision to engage with Social Media was a particular honour for me. Time spent walking with my friend the atheist just about capped it off perfectly. 

The beer wasn't bad either...

Armchair Living

A second post in one night, Cloake? What is going on? 

[I had caffiene too late!]

I am not wishing to presume that all of you that read this are fully conversant with the form and nature of the Tweet or indeed of the thing we call Twitter. If you are that person, Twitter is a fairly new social-network device which allows the user to communicate electronically to the world (or varying strata within that number) in 140 characters or less. Life by statement, in other words. There is an emergent language too, which would would be seen as (for example):

@FrDavidCloake RT @revdlesley I am having a gr8 time at #gb10

Loosely translated, that Tweet (for that is what that array of symbols is called) states that Lesley Fellows [Twitter name @revdlesley] was having a good time at Greenbelt 2010 [hash-tag '#gb10' so all those who 'follow' that tag can see what she had written]. I  myself had read that and 're-Tweeted' it, hence 'FrDavidCloake [me] and RT [re-Tweeted]. Clear, dear? Keep up! 'Re-Tweeting' is bouncing a Tweet that I have read at all the people who follow my Twitter-feed [all the 140 character or less statements that I make, and that others read]. I've made it worse, haven't I?!

Anyway - Twitter is (and I have said it before) like being everywhere yet no-where. I was at Greenbelt today, in the Tiny Tea Tent, the Jesus Arms, listening to Maggi Dawn (though not ignoring my wife this time), getting a feel for the Edgy Mass - all from my settee in Aylesbury as the kids played dutifully at my feet. I am very frequently in the mind of some very dodgy folks, in their sober times and otherwise. I have seen governments fall and sports reporters rise, all without moving an inch from my sedentary position. 

So, if you are ludicriously nosy, Twitter is for you. It is like Eastenders without Dot; like Coronation Street but less amusing; like Top Gear but not as good and lacking Clarkson which is not an advantage; like Antiques Roadshow but digital (people air their dusty nick-nacks a lot on Twitter, but not for valuation) - it is a life you just can't afford not to lead (double-negative, I'm off to bed).

A Breadth of Fresh Air

In our label-motivated society, I struggle at times with the nature of my own. I have wrestled with it here, and so many utterances that revolve around 'bloke' have already been made - and won't here be revisited!

I speak (naturally, and why wouldn't I, don't you?) of my 'ecclesial' label. What kinda Christian am I?

There are some non-negotiables, and for sake of a start, will list them here [for ease, future employers]

1. I am happy that God knows what he is doing as regards those he calls to ministry (forgive the gender slant in my own words) - and I therefore do not regard sexuality, gender or academic prowess to be impediments to ordained ministry.

2. I am a proud Anglo-Catholic, love the living liturgy, celebrate the ceremonial, revel in the ritual. These 'do it' for me, as they bring me closer to my own relationship to the Holy Sacraments - the absolute centres of my spiritual existence. I love the music of the liturgy, and the older the better (broadly)

3. The Eucharist is the source of my energy and the root of the expression of my faith.

4. Those who call themselves Christian should go to church as often and regularly as they can, even on those occasions when it seems a chore and a burden (more so in those cases, perhaps) - I apply this model to myself and have always tried to live according to this model of discipleship. 

This is not an exhaustive list, but more the 'broad brush-strokes' of what I personally stand for. My parishioners call me 'Father', I wear black and a collar when I am in 'work' mode - and so on. Then there is the other side of me which has yet to find itself a list. They are facets of me that are growing. I am rather 'charismatic' in my liturgy - I am not bound to the spot, and wander around rather a lot; I have reverted to preaching without full texts, move away from the printed words at times. I am annoyed by the over-fussiness of some ceremonial style, regarding them as rites suitable only for the 'interest group'. This blog and my own persona are odd in my own ecclesial circles - and for that I can't and won't apologise. I find myself wondering whether Greenbelt might even a little be for me, and I have a reserved place at Spring Harvest already. I find I hold in tension a love for Walsingham with a frustration with lacey liturgy; a passion for Palestrina and a love for Metallica. I adore the transcendant beauty of liturgy-done-well, but I also thrive on the spontaneous opportunities that emerge in that liturgy. 

Perhaps I am a maverick, perhaps I am (to borrow the Heavy Metal styling) Nu-catholic! My DDO (look it up dear, I haven't the energy) once told me that I couldn't go to St Stephen's House to train, that I was catholic enough. I had to go somewhere else to train where I might acquire a little breadth. 

It is an interesting journey for me - often bewildering if I am honest, but one that is probably only of interest to this greying over-weight cleric, hence its appearance at nearly midnight on a Saturday night. 

I thank my God for my chance to be the hybrid breed that appears to be required of me. Who knows where it will take me next ...