Mike's musings

Death

(backposting) About a month ago, the wife (Mo) of my incumbent (John) was diagnosed with aggressive liver and bowel cancer. It became clear a couple of weeks ago that the chemotherapy wasn't going to work, and they'd already ruled out surgery. Over the weekend, she'd moved into a hospice, and last night, around 1900, with John and her son at her bedside, she died in her sleep.

Mo was a vivacious, joy-filled woman who wouldn't let you get away with anything. She was challenging, and full of love, and was held in very high regard and affection within the parish. I've not been able to talk about her illness until now, really, as it's been a private affair, and I've known somewhat more about the progress of the disease than I've been able to share.

John has been brilliant, and the wider team and parish have supported him as best we can. I've been in London most of the day, but managed to pop in to see him, give him my love and assure him of my support this evening, before heading off to a supervision with Geoff, who's taken over the training role for the meantime.

The supervision was useful and interesting, and there was time for good reflection on some of the aspects of the Mo's illness and how it's affecting us all. A long day of honest work, crowned with the knowledge that I'll be able to make Mo's funeral, as I'm not in Finland next week.

Labels: death, funeral

Mothering Sunday

Moo didn't have as good a Mothering Sunday as I'd have liked. There were cards and a pressie from the girls, but I had to do the 0800 and the 1000, and as Miri had been sick in the night, I didn't expect them to come. And in the afternoon, she spent 3 and a half hours at a dance rehearsal with Jo. She spent some nice time with the girls, though, and we're currently watching The Wire season four.

Also in the news:
Liverpool beat Aston Villa 5-0. This takes us to second in the Premiership behind Man. U., and ahead on goal difference.
Jade Goody died. I preached on this. She wasn't a perfect woman, by a long way, and many people had real issues with her, and fair enough. But she taught us something about facing death with honesty, and about how to make provision for your children. People are now talking about cancer - nasty cancers, in fact - and about baptism. And about how to die. These are all good things. I compared her with Mary, mother of our Lord. I think that's fair.

Labels: church, death, Moo

Doing the job

I was driving to Frankie's baptism today, and came across a diversion - which nearly took me to Husborne Crawley, as it happens. As I went past it in the other direction, I suddenly realised that I was wearing my clerical collar, and I had to offer my services. I can't yet provide last rites - not until I'm ordained priest, and I'm only a deacon at the moment - but I could offer prayer and support for anyone who needed it. So, I went back, and was waved through when I offered to help. There was a fatality - who'd already been moved - and noone else involved, so in the end, I wasn't needed, but I was ready, and I think that's the important thing.

Labels: baptism, death, prayer

A funeral

Today I participated in my first funeral since being ordained in June last year. Taking funerals is part of ministry, and it's important that I have some experience of it. Actually, many priests/deacons who work full-time take very few, as most funerals tend to take place during the week. So, apart from families and friends, it may be that I won't be too busy with them, but I need some practice.

James took the funeral, and I did a reading and intercessions. It was very, very cold in church, and I had worries not only about my ability to cope with the emotional side of the service (particularly as it was for a 53 year old mother who had died from breast cancer), but also that I wouldn't be able to talk properly because of the cold: my teeth were actually chattering. In the end, it was fine, and I found that singing the hymns helped. I wasn't able to continue to the crematorium for the committal, as I had taken an early lunch-break to be involved, but it was a very worthwhile and humbling experience. It made me realise how just being there, being a solid focus in the service, and allowing people to work through their grief, you can minister to them. That can be all it takes. Humbling, as I said.

Labels: curacy, death, diaconate

Recycling

I ended up preaching at the 1000 team service in Gosfield today. I wasn't down to do it, but my incumbent was ill, and it was lucky that we even had a priest to preside over communion, but Viv had called the fantastic Clifford, and he stood in. I made an absolute hash of serving for him, but the fact that we needed to consecrate some more wafers wasn't down to me: although the sidesman told us how many were there, we had no idea how many wafers were already prepared.

The sermon went down well, though: at John's suggestion, I re-used one I'd preached in November about the death penalty, and how opposed I am to it (see blogs passim in November 2008), even for those who kill children. This in the context of Holy Innocents' day, of course.

So, it all went well, and Moo (who's not feeling well today), the girls and I headed out for lunch in a nice pub-restaurant.

Labels: death, love

More on the death penalty

A number of people have commented on my post The death penalty - and Baby P. I'd like to respond to some of those comments, which you can find at the link above.

The first is simple: I'm sure that quite a few people would be happy to admit to reading the Daily (and Sunday) Mail. That's fine. :-)

The second is a brief discussion on being "reformed" and being "redeemed". James talks about reforming alongside punishment, and that's a good liberal view, which I'd generally agree with, but for many, particularly those who generally wouldn't subscribe to the "liberal" tag, I think that reform isn't a particularly strong argument. Beyond that, there's the question of whether all are reformable: and, not being a criminal psychologist, I don't feel qualified to pronounce on this one, though I have the suspicion that not all are.

Which brings us to redemption. It's a very Christian word - at least in the way in which we were using it - and I'd been careful not to use any religious or theological arguments in my original post. That doesn't mean that we can't use it here: and I think that it's worth saying that I think we need to be careful about suggesting that by employing the death penalty, we're removing the chance that someone might be redeemed. God, of course, works in His own time, and I think this is a dangerous train of thought. In fact, noone actually said this explicitly, but no matter.

Last is the comment from Anonymous. I have no problem with people posting comments anonymously, as long are they're not abusive, which this one certainly wasn't. I do, however, disagree with the points that Anonymous makes. In the order that the commenter made them:

• like it or not, these "THINGS" are people. Like us: and that's part of the problem. They are part of what we are, and we are part of what they are, as we are part of the same society. That society may be sick, but it's _our_ society
• as I mentioned above, it's not (necessarily) about giving people a second chance. It may be that some are not reformable: they may need to be removed from normal society for the rest of their (natural) lives. That's not part of my argument, though reforming of criminals - or maybe allowing them to re-form their lives - is an aim to which I'd generally subscribe
• I agree with Simon D that having the death penalty does _not_ reduce the incidence of the crimes for the it might be applied
• and the big one: what would my reactions be if it were my child to whom this had happened? This is a really hard one. The first thing to do is to admit that I'm certain that it would change my world. I'm pretty sure that I would feel hatred and anger towards whoever did it, and even if, somehow, I didn't have that depth of emotion against them, I couldn't blame anyone who did. But I don't think that the person who feels that way would be fully me: or not as fully me as I'd wish to be. And if I did have some say in whether the death penalty were applied, and it was, _I'd_ never have the chance to grow past the pain and the anger and the hatred. Not fully, not properly. And even if I never did, the chance would still be there.
• And, on a side note, the completely understandable anger and pain is the reason why the victims of such outrages _shouldn't_ be given a say in whether the death penalty is applied. Look at the healing - emotional, psychological and spiritual - that reconciliation can (sometimes) bring, and there is a reason why I'd argue that the abolition of the death penalty can actually be good for victims, too.

Labels: blogging, death

The death penalty - and Baby P

I've been meaning to blog on this topic for a while now, and I've finally decided to jump on it and do so. In fact, I've been meaning to blog about it from before the Baby P story broke, but I think it's even more important now.

As you may have noticed, here in the UK, there has been enormous outcry at the death of a 3 year old baby known as "Baby P" at the hands of his parents, from terrible injuries. And that outcry has come, unsurprisingly, from people with small children: people like us. That's understandable, and no cause for alarm: there should be an outcry, as this should not have happened. However, it goes beyond that. There are calls for the death penalty for those responsible: or at least for the death penalty to be available to people who commit such crimes. A number of my friends on Facebook have signed up to groups advocating this, and similar. And I can see why. But I believe this to be fundamentally wrong: I passionately believe that we should not have the death penalty.

My reasons are many, and I'm going to try to lay them out here. Interestingly, I think, few of them are based on faith or theology. I realise that my general approach to ethical issues is a Christian one, but I don't think that this is a question that needs Christianity - or other faith - to be invoked in order to decide it. Why, then, should we not have the death penalty?

1. The very top reason is that it brutalises. The ability to call for the death penalty allows us to dip deep into the animal part of us and ignore the rational, the thinking, the loving. And I would ask the question: "do you want your children to grow up in a society where violence is punished with violence?"
2. It's not a deterrent, in many cases. Crimes that are, in other countries, punishable by the death penalty are not those which are avoided by thinking "oh, I might get the death penalty for this: I won't do it, then"
3. It's unjust. It is the economically, socially, academically and intellectually disadvantaged who are by far the most likely to receive the death penalty
4. It's unjust (2). In criminal organisations, it is those on the ground, the lowest in the chain, who are most likely to receive the death penalty: they're more likely to get caught, they're less likely to get off (see above), and they're more likely to have committed the actual crime themselves, rather than having ordered it
5. It's truly a one-way ticket. Mistakes are made: history is littered with them. People who have been found guilty, received the death penalty, and have then been found not to have committed the crime. A confession is no guarantee, either: confessions can be forced, and some people confess because they want to die, even if they haven't committed the crime
6. It's a betrayal. I believe that people have fought - and died - to leave us with a society where we have the opportunity to be decent, honest and just. The death penalty is none of those, and by lowering ourselves to the level of those who commit the crimes that are believed to merit it, we betray those people who have come before us.

I'm not even going to start on Christian arguments: I really don't think they're needed. Comments are _especially_ welcome.

Labels: children, death, ethics, love

And home (alone)

Well, the girls won't be back until tomorrow, but I got home around 0845, having got into Gatwick at 0630, pretty much dead on time. I got some more sleep in the morning, and struggled to keep my eyes open in the afternoon. Luckily, I had lots of work to do, so that kept me awake.

Looking forward to seeing the girls tomorrow. Wonder how long I'll manage to stay up tonight.

Need to talk about the death penalty soon. It's come up in two contexts, and I'm vehemently opposed to it: I'm worried that the question of whether it should be available seems to be creeping back into the public sphere.

Labels: death, home

Three issues to cover

You (that's the thousands of readers I have, of course) don't often get 3 issues in one posting. Well, actually you often do, but I don't usually bother to separate them out. Today you do, and I am. Lucky you.

Jo

It's really hard having a child who's ill. In fact, Jo had finished throwing up by the time I got back home from church, but she had thrown up 4 times between my leaving at 0720 and my return around 1210. Moo had to deal with it. This is one of the nightmares about having multiple commitments - particularly ones I care about - is having to leave Catherine to deal with problems which a) it's not fair that she has to deal with on her own; and b) that I want to be involved with myself.

Anyway, Jo was much better by this afternoon, and managed to keep a simple supper down. Hopefully she'll sleep well. Hopefully she (and Miri) will sleep through past 0800. Yeah, right. Past 0600 would be a miracle.

Stewardship

I preached on stewardship today. It was a very hard sermon to prepare, and pretty hard to preach, but I was quite pleased. I gave a shorter version to the 0800, and the full version to 1000. I based it (to the surprise of James, the other curate!) on justification by faith alone. It's not an obvious starting point, I grant you, but for me, it made sense. The people who built - or caused to be built - our church in Halstead paid the church in tithes, and gave money in gifts, partly because the doctrine of the medi&aedigraph;val Catholic church was that doing good works helps in getting to heaven: alongside faith, of course. I won't go into current Roman Catholic teaching, but I'm firmly of the opposite view: that we are justified by faith alone.

I noted that as citizens of England, we have rights to use the church - the parish church in Halstead - for marriages, baptisms, funerals, and other services- as do all the other people who live in the parish. And I pointed out that we have a set of responsibilities that go along with those rights: to maintain that set of rights of ourselves, for those who don't usually exercise them, for those who came before us, and for those who will come after.

But more than that, we have a covenant with God - a new covenant, a new testament - and there are responsibilities entailed with that. And that's where we start with thinking about or financial responsibilities to God's church. And its people. And its God.

Not just at the front

During intercessions today, I left my seat at the front of the church and went to be beside someone who was crying. The details aren't important: I supported this person and put my arm around them. I thought about it - for probably under a second - before I did it. But it was abundantly clear to me that if I can sit at the front of the church, up three steps, and leave someone to cry, then I'm not worthy to be a priest. Or even a deacon.

We serve. Or we dishonour the Father, and let down the Spirit, and sadden the Son.

Labels: death, diaconate, god, illness, Jo, sermon

A great woman

Some people are known to all, and some are great in a quiet way. Moo's Aunty Kitty died this morning with a member of family at her bedside, though Parkinson's meant that she'd not been able to know anybody for quite a while. She was always the mainstay of the family. She never married, but was always first on the scene for a family crisis. She worked all her adult life for Littlewood's - and for everybody else. And noone could wield a hoover or clear plates like her at 0730, even if people were still in bed.

She's where she should be: in God's hands, where she will finally know herself again.

Labels: death, family

Good Friday

Windy, cold, wet. But not God-forsaken.

Labels: death

Killed. And saved.

Al Qaeda have killed many people in Algeria today. Including students on a bus, who happened to be passing the UN offices. The UN isn't perfect, and it has a heavy Western bias, but the US don't like it particularly, and it's the best we've got. So why bomb them?

I took the dog for a walk today, and as I was walking along the road, I heard a squealing skid, and a car clearly hitting something quite hard. I turned round, saw a vehicle in the ditch in the dark, and sprinted there, calling 999 on the way. There was a van, upside down, with its lights on, in the ditch. I was first there, and three or so other guys turned up within seconds, pulling their cars up as they saw what had happened. There was a single person in the van, trapped, but only slightly hurt. He was very lucky and would, I suspect, have been dead if he'd not been in a fairly modern vehicle (a 2 year old Berlingo), and wearing a seatbelt. I stayed with him, talking to him and the emergency services on the phone until the police (3 cars), fire service (2 appliances) and ambulance (at least vehicle) arrived. In the end, there was nothing much I needed to do, other than chat with the driver, help the emergency services as best I could (check the driver for injuries, ensure there were no hazardous substances in the van, etc.), but I was really worried that there was going to be someone really badly injured in there, and that the van was going to be so badly damaged that I wouldn't be able to help them much. But I suspect he'll be home inthe next day or so to his family, who live locally (but who he wouldn't let us phone, as he didn't want to worry them!). So, one saved. Let's be thankful for that.

And pray for those who haven't been saved, their families and friends.

Labels: death

Meg

I've just got back from the vet, where I took Meg. On their advice - which we'd anticipated - they put her down as she lay cuddled and peaceful in my arms, where she died. We'd had her since she was a kitten, in the year we got married - 1995 - and she was a lovely - if sometimes standoffish - cat. We're very glad that she came home, but she wasn't getting better, and we decided that any further intervention wouldn't have been fair. You have a responsibility to your animals throughout their life, and we believe that we've fulfilled that. I've now had two pets die in my arms, and feel very privileged to have had that chance: I wouldn't have it another way.

Labels: death, meg

Good Friday

(backposting) For me, this is the most theologically charged day of the Christian calendar. For reasons not worth enumerating, I knew from early in the day that I wasn't going to get a chance to go to a church service, which was difficult. I managed, however, to find 20 minutes or so to sit down with my laptop and listen to Tallis' "Lamentations of Jeremiah", streamed from home. We need to take the spiritual comfort we can, when we can, and this saw me through.

We had a good day, and the evening's meal ended up with my trying to explain the intricacies of the Anglican hierarchy to the assembled throng -

• Mac: I don't see why we don't just call all priests "vicars"
• Me: For the same reason that we don't call all doctors "GPs"

- and then talking about vocation - mine, and others. It was interesting, and an important part of my ministry, I think: to be open to the questions and probings of those around with little faith or none, but at least showing an interest.

Managed to make the end of a party in SecondLife to mark the opening of a new area for faith groups called Koinonia. Only stayed for a while, but caught up with a few friends, listened to the live music, etc., so at least I made an appearance.

Good Friday - some theology

Looking back on this post, I thought that I ought to spend a little time talking about why Good Friday is so theologically charged for me. There are other candidates, of course: Christmas, when the Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us; Easter, when Christ rose again from the dead in glory; Pentecost, when the disciples, remaining behind, unsure and leaderless, were gifted with the Holy Spirit and given a reality to their commission. These are the most obvious, but for me, it has to be Good Friday. Without the death of Christ on the cross, none of the rest of it would make sense, or have any substance. It is the rending of the curtain of the temple, the destruction of the split between heaven and earth, the kenosis, the moment when, in death, Jesus, a man, suffered and became Christ, our God. I should qualify that last statement: I don't mean that Jesus was not God before his death on the cross - that way lies heresy! - but that this moment is where the reality is revealed, the single moment of history on which the rest of the created order turns.

Easter is now possible: Christ, the propitiation for our sins, can rise in glory (but what a tear-obscured rising in the garden!). Christmas suddenly makes sense: there is a reason why God has made an appearance. And Pentecost is where we, God's church, need to take over the witness.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem: convertere ad Dominum Deum tuum.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem: turn to the Lord your God.

Labels: Christ, death, music, party, secondlife, theology

Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz -- when I died --
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air --
Between the Heaves of Storm --

The Eyes around -- had wrung them dry --
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset -- when the King
Be witnessed -- in the Room --

I willed my Keepsakes -- Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable -- and then it was
There interposed a Fly --

With Blue -- uncertain stumbling Buzz --
Between the light -- and me --
And then the Windows failed -- and then
I could not see to see --

Labels: death, poetry

Death of a priest

People die. Priests die. And sometimes, priests get murdered. Attacks on priests are on the rise. I personally know a priest who thought he was going to die, after being threatened by a mentally ill man with a pistol. Twice, and the same man. It's sad that part of our training involves advice on how to look after yourself as a minister.

It's an occupational hazard and, as the assistant bishop says in the report, "any murder is terrible, but the murder of a priest is almost unthinkable because a priest stands for peaceable things". But that, or course, is part of the danger. Those who preach peace are a danger and a threat to those who don't believe in it, or are disturbed, or ill. This is clearer in parts of the world where Christians are persecuted, but it can hit at home, as well. Please pray for his family, friends and parishioners.

Labels: death, ministry, priest

Hospice care and euthanasia

(backposting) A really challenging couple of sessions this morning. Ably led by Geoff (visiting) and Malcolm respectively. Really thought-provoking, and there were some pretty emotional people around after them, unsurprisingly.

A good Eucharist - it's been odd, though, not singing at all this weekend. I need to try to preserve my voice and let it get better, and singing wouldn't help. So.

Back home in the afternoon. Lovely to see Jo and Moo.

Labels: death, singing

A tortured soul

No, not mine, I'm pleased to say. I thought I'd try to do my 10 minutes of devotional music today (as per my Lenten resolutions), and decided to listen to a little Gesualdo. He was a fascinating man - and, indeed, a tortured soul - and his music is at times heart-breaking. Just the stuff for Lent, so I'm sitting here with the Antiques Roadshow on mute in the background, typing and listening to "Ave Regina Coelorum" at the moment. I may have problems with some of the theology behind much of the Marian devotional music from the Roman Catholic church, but fewer problems than I did, and it doesn't stop the music from moving me.

I had a chat with Edward from ERMC tonight, about placements. It seems that things have gone rather quiet, so he's picking up the baton. There's a problem with finding anything on the mental health side, where I'd been thinking about spending my non-ecclesial (or social) placement, and we've decided to look instead at a placement to do with death and dying - an area where I have very little experience, and which I'd already identified as needing work. We're going to see if we can find a suitable funeral directors or hospice who might take me on. I'm very happy about this, and look forward to seeing what we can sort out.

Went to church (Communion) today for the first time in weeks - I've been away, or ill, or both, and missed out, which I've not been happy about. Dad, Kate and I all went to the 0800 BCP service at Great Yeldham, which I was very pleased to have made. All in all, it's been a more theological weekend than I'd expected. Partly because my Dad, my Mum and Kate all read the draft of my personal assessement - which I'll also be discussing with Keith tomorrow, hopefully. They asked some interesting questions, and I feel that I've managed to make pretty much all the points I'd wanted to make in it. We also spent some time over supper and before discussing who we'd have on our "5 people for Lent" list (which I blogged on yesterday). This led to some interesting suggestions, including Judas (!), Luther, Pope John-Paul I (not the second), Bill Shankley, Rafa Benitez, Kevin Keegan (the last three from Mac, my father-in-law), Gerald Manley Hopkins (yeuch!), John Donne, Shakespeare and Johnny Cash. I urge you to try it with your family and friends - it was quite an interesting exercise to find out what people think that they _should_ be doing, and what they ought to saying!

Labels: death, ERMC, Lent, music

Baby Tommy

We heard today that baby Tommy died on Thursday. We know now more than that he was tired, and an inspiration to his parents. Please pray for them.

The fact that I'm still feeling ill rather pales into insignificance.

Labels: church, death, illness

No delight in death

They killed Saddam Hussein overnight. It was a legally and politically justified decision, I'm sure, but I can't take delight in it. I'm absolutely opposed to the death penalty, even when the guilt of the accused is without doubt, and the crimes are horrifying. But I struggle, struggle with the taking of a life - even in war, but yet more in situations such as this. I can't see that we have the right - I, at least, couldn't take it on myself, and I'm glad that our nation does not practice the death penalty, because as a citizen, I would be party to it.

Went to Digi's 2nd birthday party today: his parents are Tosha and Nik. Lots of people, and Jo had a good time, as did we. A really nasty drive back home - seriously bid rain and surface water on the road for much of it. Couldn't go above 35 for much of it. Money's not good at the moment. Heigh-ho. And I've got a nasty throat. If that's all we've got to complain about, though...

Labels: death, illness, money, party, responsibility

Ipswich

Christ is the prostitute, the working girl, the hooker, the drug addict.

Christ is the john, the trick, the punter.

Christ is the policeman, the detective, the filth.

Christ is the journalist, the cameraman, the presenter.

Christ is the viewer, the reader, the listener.

Christ is the father, the mother, the sister, the brother.

God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, dies every time we sin. Every time we fail to live up to the promise that is in us, every time we reject Him/Her, every time we look the other way, every time we watch without seeing, every time we read without understanding, every time we hear without listening. God is always already there, in the sin, in the pain, in the dying.

But Jesus rises in every kind word, in every attempt to help, in every moment of empathy, in every tear, in every penny freely given, in every smile loosed.

Labels: Christ, death, Ipswich, murder, prostitute, rape, resurrection