The title of my blog was very deliberately chosen. Having been a parish priest for most of the past thirty-five years, I am now having to adjust to no longer holding that ministry. This is difficult, for being a parish priest was not only the job that I did, it was me, who I am - who I was, anyway. Now, for reasons that I don't propose to unpack or examine just now except to say that they have their validity in that every organisation is bound by its customs and disciplines, I can no longer play the role that for so long defined me.
The Church would I suppose still regard me as a priest, albeit one presently without the license to minister as such . . . but I am not sure that I do or even can still regard myself as a priest. Not only can I not go back to what I was, I am pretty clear that I do not wish to go back. I feel no great call to the altar; I feel no great call to a leadership ministry. I suppose I never did feel those things, although I have always felt a more general call to ministry - and that is something I still do feel. Throughout my ministry, I have always felt an immense sense of privilege when celebrating communion or doing other priestly things - but it was a privilege undeserved and perhaps even unwanted. It isn't something I greatly miss.
So the past two years have been a process of moving on. It's been a slow and edgy process, in part because it is in my nature to want to hang on to things, I don't like moving, I don't like change - these things frighten me, I think. But I have reached a stage where I can at last loose my grip on bits of my past life and past self that need to be abandoned. I think this is because I am now much clearer about who I now am and, if I am moving out (the other part of my blog title), what the options are for me in doing that.
Yesterday on a radio programme that happened to be on in my car as I travelled, I heard someone speaking about how important it is to learn to love and to care for ourselves - indeed, that our capacity to love and to care for others depends on it. I am sure this is true. I have spent quite enough time hating myself and neglecting myself, and the time has come for me to change things round a bit. In some ways this year has not begun well. I have felt physically ill and frail, having managed on New Year's Day itself to contract the 'winter vomiting' disease. But at a deeper level I sense that I am much more at ease with myself and my situation than I have been up till now, and that I am beginning to find some solid ground to stand on.
People who lecture and advise on lifeskills are apt to say things like 'There are no problems, only opportunities' and 'Whenever one door closes, another opens'. Such sayings can sound trite and are therefore easy to ridicule or dismiss, but of course there is some truth in them. If we always had such positive feelings, no-one would never need to say any of that stuff; often, we feel more as though 'Whenever one door closes, another gets slammed in your face', and, yes, it has felt like that for me from time to time over the past two years. But I am learning to be hopeful. I am learning that no longer being a priest does not mean I no longer exist, or that my existence no longer has any point or value. Vitally, I am learning that I am surrounded by people who have an interest in me, who care for me, and value what they see and find in me - despite, and perhaps even because of, the changes that have happened in my life.
These ramblings, by the way, are not leading to any great or notable conclusion. I don't have any great plans for where next. But I do feel as though I am at a beginning point, and not an ending. And I am discovering that even if I am not what I was, I am still me, and it still feels good to be me.
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