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- Herausgeber: Dolman Scott Publishers
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
In what I write I wanted to try to share with the readers of my little book some of the events / happenings that had an impact on my life and contributed to my becoming the person that I am today. Besides that, in those early years there were a number of people who featured very strongly in my life. They were all wonderful people and I am keen that their lives are not forgotten. All our lives have ups and downs, and all our lives have those moments which become influential, even formative, on us as individuals. Moreover, most of us are able to reel off a whole host of amusing anecdotes. I include a few of mine here. I hope that you enjoy what you read
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MEMORIES OF LIFE PREPARING FOR MINISTRY....
AT TIMES PERHAPS MIS-SPENT
ROBERT PARKER
Published by Robert Parker 2021Copyright © Robert Parker 2021
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright owner. Nor can it be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on a subsequent purchaser.
Dolman Scott Ltd
www.dolmanscott.co.uk
A little bit of background
Making the decision to offer your life to God by becoming a priest is a very big step. Most of those who do so, spend months, even years, agonising as to whether it is the right thing to do.
I took this step when I was seventeen. Even so, in the years that followed, there were many moments when I became unsure, and almost threw in the towel. After two years’ training at Oxford, and as the day of being made deacon grew nearer, so the doubts grew stronger, and it was only through the encouragement of a number of people with whom I interacted on a regular basis that I was able to stay on track.
Perhaps the two greatest influences on me were, firstly Robert Runcie and the secondly John Petty. Robert Runcie who, during my time at Oxford, was principal of Cuddesdon College, where I trained, and later he was to become Bishop of St. Albans, and then Archbishop of Canterbury. The two of us regularly walked together around the sports field at Cuddesdon, discussing theology, my training, where I might go after Cuddesdon, and, most of all, my doubts, both about myself as a person and, more often, my radical theology, and which it was good to know that in some part he shared my beliefs.
The second strong influence was John Petty, who had been a Ghurka officer, and then read for his MA at Oxford, before becoming ordained. Having both trained at Cuddesdon, we went to the same parish in Sheffield as curates. When, seven years later, I was made Team Rector of the parish of Yate, in the Bristol diocese, we spent months exploring how we could again work together, possibly in Yate itself, but if not, then wherever a possibility might arise. Sadly, another shared Ministry never happened during our working lives.
But, many years later, John, on retiring as Dean of Coventry, came as chaplain to one of our Nursing Homes, specifically to the one in Shrewsbury, Mount House. Whilst there, he carried out an innovative ministry, completely breaking new ground in the Spiritual life of the elderly, and giving fresh hope and a meaningful lifestyle, which included a vibrant worship regime, to the fifty-six residents who lived on the Mount. He said regularly that it was the most important and fulfilling part of his entire Ministry. He was an amazing support to me when my marriage to Linda ended, both through the painful process of separation, and afterwards. He would regularly invite me to the Deanery at Coventry for a chat, for dinner, and then, next morning, to robe and take an active part in the cathedral’s morning worship.
In recent years, Martyn Percy, one time Principal of Cuddesdon, now Dean of Christchurch Oxford, has had a major influence on my life, giving constant counsel to me many times, and in many different circumstances, and being there like a rock when I needed support. I have discovered that if we are prepared to listen when this kind of love and help is offered, it is perhaps the most meaningful kind of training available. This discovery has been made partly with Martyn’s help and also through his deep insight.
There have, of course, been many others who have influenced my life and my ministry. My first vicar, Iain Griggs, vicar of St. Cuthberts in Sheffield, and who later became Bishop of Ludlow. Archbishop Alwyn Rice-Jones, Archbishop of Wales, who became a very close friend. Alwyn had the most amazing eyebrows, which it seemed could move more than an inch up and down his face above his eyes whenever he became passionate about a subject that he was discussing. Mike Bourke and his wife Liz, both when Mike was Bishop of Wolverhampton and then in retirement.… And last, but not least by any means, Gregory Cameron, the current Bishop of St. Asaph, with whom I have shared deeply… though, because of pressure on his time, perhaps not as often as I would have liked.
Training is a life-long process for all of us. It begins from birth. We undertake training both in and from many areas of life. These areas might include marriage, our close relationships, a work discipline, working with children, and so on. A great deal of this training comes about by being self-taught, or through observing others. Some training is, of course, done in the classroom; but without doubt the greatest teacher is life itself, if only we will take the time to watch, listen and interpret.
Training to be a priest, and as a priest, is also life-long. Yes, it is concentrated whilst we are at College, but actually it has begun long before that. Perhaps it begins at our birth, although there is an argument which says that it began at the beginning of creation, even though at that point in time we weren’t even a gleam in anyone’s eye. Then, without question, the birth of Jesus two thousand years ago has had a profound effect on each one of us, whether Christian or not, whether priest or not, and has contributed towards our shaping for mission and ministry.
I loved Cuddesdon. I loved the life that it offered to me as a student, in spite of some very difficult moments. It was a great privilege to be invited back many years later by Martyn Percy, the then principal, to serve on the Governing Body there.
Training then continues after Theological College, as one moves to a parish as curate. One’s first vicar has a major influence on the priest that one becomes. The relationship between vicar and curate is key to our development, and, without question, during that period both good and bad habits and positive and negative traits are easily picked up.
This little book is an attempt to share some of those moments in both my training for and during those first few years of my early ministry. That time was spent first at Oxford, and then in Sheffield. I hope that you will find these little stories/anecdotes both amusing and stimulating. Certainly, at least in part, I am who I am because of them. Please note that some place names, and names of individuals have been changed, and dates are not always exact.
Robert Parker, July 2021
Martyn Percy, Dean of Christchurch Oxford
John Petty
Rt Revd Alwyn Rice Jones, Archbishop of Wales
Gregory Cameron Bishop of St Aspagh
Robert Runcie Principal of Ripon College Cuddesdon
Please note that the photographs and ( The illustrations used in this book and not intended to illustrate the story that they are placed alongside. Moreover, where appropriate some names, dates and places have been deliberately changed )
Contents
John Norman… I Am Challenging You To Think About Ordination
John Norman Vicar of Alford with Family
‘And so I am challenging you to think about Ordination.’
The words were thundered from the pulpit as John Norman concluded his Sunday morning address on that Pentecost Sunday in 1959.
He was a lovely man, was our vicar. Ashford-in-the- Water was an idyllic Derbyshire Dales village, with just 700 inhabitants. We had moved there when I was thirteen, when my dad was appointed the head-teacher at the village school. John Norman, the vicar, had arrived with his wife at virtually the same time.
John’s address that Pentecost morning had been fascinating.
‘The Church needs more priests,’ he had told us. ‘Every village and every town parish needs a vicar… and the number of ordained men is falling rapidly. There are now 2000 less than we had just ten years ago. Every village like ours should send someone for ordination every ten years, and it is a long time since this parish sent someone into the Church.’
‘A priest’s job is so important,’ he continued enthusiastically. ‘He lives and moves amongst the community. Yes, we take the Sunday services, which is what most people see, and think that the job is all about… and we take funerals and weddings, and we baptise babies. And whilst all this is important, it is not the number one priority of a priest’s life and work.
John Norman, vicar of Ashford with Bishop of Derby at Well Dressing procession Photo
‘His main task is to be there amongst God’s people. Praying for them every day. Being alongside all those whose lives are broken… those who have cancer, or have been bereaved, or lost a child, or know that they are dying, or whose husbands have walked out on them. Being there for them, holding their hands through the disaster that is facing them. On top of that, the priest also shares with families the great moments of joy in life. The birth of a new baby. A marriage. Wedding anniversaries and the like.
‘That is what a priest’s life is really all about.… Being available to his people, sharing their lives, and praying for them, bringing them before God every day.
‘So I say to you again, to every one of you… think about ordination. Not just for yourself, but for your sons or for your nephews, or your neighbour’s sons.
‘And talk to them about ordination. Challenge them to consider it. God might be calling the very person that you talk to tomorrow when you go down to the village shop, and your prompting could open the door for them to take the first step towards becoming a priest of God.
Think about it. Pray about. Amen.’
The next evening at 7pm, after I had finished my homework, I was knocking on the vicarage door.
Eventually, the door opened and Janet, the vicar’s wife, stood there, and when she saw me, she looked very bemused and said quizzically, ‘Robert?’
I replied very simply. ‘After his sermon yesterday morning, I have come to talk to the vicar about my being ordained.’
The Feathers In The Bowl At The Vicarage…
Robert at Lady Manners School (Rugby) behind head
I wasn’t at all sure that John Norman would see me and talk to me about my future , let alone recommend me to the Bishop as someone who could become a priest. My mind flashed back to three years earlier, when a group of us youngsters in the village had stepped forward to say that we wanted to be confirmed. We were all between twelve and fourteen years old, and when we had put our names forward, he had invited us to the vicarage for confirmation classes. That particular evening was lesson number four, and when we arrived at the vicarage door, he had greeted us and said, ‘Come in, all of you.’
He had ushered us all into his lounge, and we sat in a circle on low, plush easy chairs and sofas, whilst he sat on a desk chair behind his desk near the window.
‘Tonight,’ he began, ‘We are going to talk about trust. Trust is one of the most important elements of being a Christian. If you are not trustworthy, then what is that saying to the people around you and to God? What is that saying about your values?… And, moreover, what is it saying about your understanding of the teaching of Jesus?’
At that moment, there was a gentle knock on the lounge door, which opened just a little , and John’s wife, Janet, stood there. ‘Terribly sorry to interrupt,’ she said, ‘but, John, you are needed… please come at once … you won’t be more than a few minutes.’
She turned and left. Immediately John stood up and headed towards the door, then turned on his heel and said to us all, ‘Oh, you see that beautiful upturned bowl on the glass table in the middle of the room. It has something very precious inside… please don’t touch it. Please. Don’t. Do you understand? Can I trust you not to interfere with it whilst I am gone?’
We all nodded and he left.
Once he was out of the room, I said to the rest of the group, ‘How stupid. Why can’t we touch that bowl, and why can’t we look at what is hidden inside? And anyway, even if we do, he will never know!!’
With that, I stood up, went forward, took the bowl in both hands and lifted it right off the table. Instantly, the room was filled with what seemed like 50,000 feathers!!
I spent the next three minutes trying to catch feathers as they floated through the air, and then tried in vain to push them back under the side and into the bowl, which had now been returned to the table.
When John eventually came back into the room, there were still myriads of feathers everywhere: on the carpet, in our hair, on the backs of our chairs, floating through the air. Everywhere.
He said just two words. ‘Robert Parker’!!
The Lent Course… ‘Virgins Don’T Have Babies’
It was a really miserable March Tuesday. I had got soaked cycling to school that morning, and even though going home was downhill all the way, I then got soaked again as I cycled home.
Still, mother had made up for it – she had made some delicious fishcakes – and after I had had a bath and changed, we sat down for supper, and I was allowed three of them.
‘Right,’ dad said, ‘You had better do your homework; we are leaving at twenty past seven to go to Mrs Hayto’s for the Lent course.’ Mrs Hayto was in the church choir, and when the vicar had asked for volunteers for him to use their home as a venue for the six-week Lent course that he was giving, Mrs Hayto had quickly made her house available. She and Ted lived right next to the village green, and when the lads of the village went out to play footie – as they did most evenings – Ted lit his pipe and sat watching the match from his garden bench.
An hour later, nine of us – all regulars at church – were sat around a roaring fire in the Haytos’ living room, and the vicar was in full sway.
His theme this particular evening was ‘The Nativity… what really happened and what it means’. He talked to us for around forty minutes, and then opened the discourse up for us all to contribute either by way of questions or comments.
After a further ten minutes, I could take no more. ‘Vicar,’ I burst in, ‘I have to say something. This is a wonderful story. But that is what it is. We need to interpret it… discover its meaning. Virgins don’t have babies, any more than men come back from the dead, or walk on water, or change water into wine. Perhaps the writers at the time believed these things were true… although I even doubt that – or, more likely, they were trying to convey a special understanding of the relationship between Jesus and God, and explain to us that meaning by way of using metaphor.’
There was a stunned silence. No-one spoke. The silence seemed to last forever. Then Colonel Wise from the Hall turned on me and said very tersely,
‘Robert Parker. What an outburst. How can you come to church every Sunday and be in the choir if you believe that kind of thing? You are setting yourself against the truth of the Bible. And, more importantly, I hear that you have put yourself forward for ordination. I think that I need to write to the Bishop!!’
John Norman didn’t say a word, but I could tell from his expression that I had at least a certain amount of sympathy.
As I sat there listening to him, I was fairly sure that the Colonel’s letter would never be sent to the Bishop. But how wrong I was. I was to discover only much later that it went both to the Bishop and then, when I applied for a place at Cuddesdon and the Bishop was told of my application, a copy was sent by the Bishop of Derby to Robert Runcie, and nearly resulted in my not being offered a place there at all.
The Virgin Mary
Standing At The Bus Stop… But Not Getting On
Robert leading a pilgramage
I didn’t know it, but the Bishop of Derby had an adviser for Ordinands. His role was to meet each of the young men who put their name forward to be considered for ordination, and then submit a report to the Bishop, giving his opinion as to whether the candidate was suitable. He was also vicar of a small parish and lived and worked at Quarndon, just on the north side of Derby.
It came as a great surprise to receive a letter from him, inviting me to telephone him and to make an appointment to go and see him. John Norman had written to him to tell him of our chat at the vicarage, and had explained that I was actively seeking information about ordination.
