Tuesday 29 December 2015

Being 'religious'

In the last few months I have realised that I am religious. It may sound weird, that I have only just realised this, looking at my life:

- I've identified as Christian since I was 6
- I have worn a crucifix 24/7 since I was 14, so for almost a decade
- I have been going to church every week for over 4 years
- I'm baptised and, more importantly, confirmed
- I've been increasingly involved in church life, including
     - singing in the choir
     - reading the gospel
     - being a server
     - running the Circus Spirit
     - substituting for the cantor
- I pray daily
- I use prayer beads
- I get ashed and wear it for the rest of the day
- I plan on reading the Bible in a year in 2016
- I keep a spiritual journal
- I stay overnight and sleep in the church for the Easter Vigil
- I even took a month off work to volunteer in Advent

To other people, I am obviously religious. I, and others, find it odd if I don't wear a cross, and I get angsty if I miss a Sunday morning for whatever reason. In such a precarious career as freelance theatre stage manager, church is one of the anchors in my life, alongside my family, my boyfriend, and my friends. My aims in life include living by the Great Commandment, and the Golden Rule; being a disciple to Jesus; centering and orientating my life around my relationship with God.

I'm obviously religious. But if you had asked me last year what I identified as, the list would not have included 'religious'. It was only when someone asked me if one of my friends at church was religious that I said "well, yeah, he is, but he only goes to church as much as I do...oh..." and the penny dropped.

I was taken aback. I almost wanted to defend myself against the accusation. And it's this reaction that has made me think about it a bit deeper. Why did I not want to be called 'religious', when it is true? I'm not claiming the "I'm not religious, I'm spiritual" thing, but I would much rather be 'a person of faith'.

'Faith' has a better rep than religion. I think it's definitely a generational thing; there's a feeling of peer pressure to avoid the 'religious' label, and in many ways, a common issue young Christians have is an instinct to hide their religion. Easier to come out as bisexual than Christian! Millennials pride themselves of being progressive, and liberal, and reasonable, and that leads to a rejection of all things seen as not based on reason, including any spirituality or, and especially, a belief in God. Believing in God is often seen as an indication of inferiority, and so going as far as to be religious itself implies an
irrational adherence to dogma. Modern Western mainstream culture seems to take the view that, alongside gender and race equality, freedom of sexuality, and freedom of speech, the conclusion that there is no God is the obvious, and basically only acceptable, conclusion. It's fashionable to hate religion.

One cannot be religious and considered reasonable, rational, even maybe intelligent. So I think my initial instinct to reject the term comes from a fear that it will class me in the same category as religious fundamentalists, religious nutters, religious terrorists, religious indoctrination, conservatism, creationism, zealots, the judgmental, the out of touch. Calling people religious is often a way of excluding them based on assumptions about their views or behaviour ie. it's a label, so in narrow minds leads to prejudice.

But I am religious. Not because I have been indoctrinated, not because I think everyone should live their lives the way I do, and not because it's easier. I am religious because I practice religion, but I
practice good religion. Bad religion is exactly what Jesus railed against when arguing with the Pharisees etc. Good religion is a structure, a set of tools to sustain the faith, the relationship with Jesus, God, the universe. The practices, the actions and works are not the important bit, but I need them, flawed human being as I am, to keep up my end of the relationship. I use the combined wisdom of the tradition and scripture to give me a head start, rather than starting at the beginning on my own. I wouldn't get anywhere! It's also a useful motivation to do things that, even though reason and experience tell me I should, I probably wouldn't end up doing if on my own.

This is if I get it right, and I do fail, of course I do. When I fail, my religiosity is just as insubstantial and a distortion as it was when Jesus threw his wobbly in the Temple. And that's where the negativity of 'religious' catches me, and makes me squirm. It's a reminder that though I am aware of good religion, and I try my best, religion gets in my way sometimes, making me no better than the fundamentalists I so desperately do not want to be.

But my hope is that I get it right enough to outweigh when I get it wrong. I hope I can live a life that is, yes, religious, but in a way that makes people rethink their assumption that being religious is necessarily a negative thing. I find so much that is good, and useful, and wonderful, in religion, and somehow, I hope I can show that to others.

PS a good book to show more of the good in religion than the "religions do good stuff" argument, I recommend Religion for Atheists by Alain de Botton.

Monday 28 December 2015

Video: Frustration


I had a thought the other day when discussing my next appointment with Lucy, the rector, about how I keep falling into the comforting delusion that the discernment process is trundling along and I'm going to speed along through it.

Nope.

Friday 18 December 2015

Video: Update on not much happening



So I managed in this video to totally forget about the volunteering I'm doing at church and all my advent goings on as well! I've done several shifts on the Traidcraft stall, including having a chat with the manager of St James' Piccadilly Market about how he has made the market more of a cohesive part of the church's activity, rather than something separate that just happens to rent the courtyard; I've been singing in various services; 'peopling', which is sitting in the church to say hi to visitors; and I've been cast as Mary for our Christmas Eve children's service! My brother was Joseph in his nativity play at primary school, but I've finally done it! (age 23).

I've contacted the army chaplain I mentioned in my last post, so arranging that meeting is in the works, which is very exciting. I read her book as well, which was interesting, as memoirs generally are, not that I read a lot of them. Vis. other homework, I haven't got to any other services yet, as I thought I might not, but I do need to remember to at some point in the new year get on with that; and I feel like this past Sunday I did reconnect with service as a punter in the pew. Part of this I think is my progress in connecting with prayer, which is obviously a major part of the service. So that's nice.

And our associate rector has suggested pointing this blog out to the diocese. I feel all sorts of things about this. It is terrifying. First, as much as I am aware that I'm writing on the internet and therefore it will be read by strangers, the possibility of exposure, of being publicised, and marketed, is daunting. I worry that it would add pressure, whereas this blog should be an organic outpouring. Second, the possibility of censure. I need to know I can write pretty much anything on here, and if the diocese is anyway want to back this little project, they may want a say in the content. And of course, the very nature of the project is going to involve my opinion of the process I'm about to embark on, which is done by the diocese. How much freedom will I have to criticise the process? This is meant to be an open, honest log of my experience, good and bad.

I may be over-thinking it, it may be fine. I also feel so excited about the prospect. What an opportunity! I would like this blog to survive in posterity, and be available as a resource for people in my position who don't have anything similar, so to have it broadcast by an official branch of vocation that those people might encounter is surely a good thing. I'm also nervous if it affects my prospects. I'm happy my associate rector thinks it's a good blog worth pointing out to the higher-ups. I feel inadequate as a novice blogger. In some ways I want to take up the challenge, as I would be determined to do well and be worthy of the attention. There's also the potential embarrassment of the publicity not attracting any more attention.

Monday 14 December 2015

What my experience as a stage manager can bring to being a priest

This is a helpful little exercise I've decided to set myself as I'm vaguely aware that there are a lot of transferable skills and experiences, but I've never done a thorough run down. It's certainly from a secular angle, tackling the part of being a priest that is actually 'a job'. So here goes:

The big one is Relationships. Reading the Summary of Criteria 'relationships' section is very similar to reading a realistic job description for a stage manager. In SM, you're biggest responsibility is your relationships, and being the central force to establish and sustain cohesive working relationships, creating boundaries, and maintaining a professional standard, whilst also being the department that provides the pastoral care. Stage managers are the ones company members come to with any problem, and that often can include things not related to the show. It becomes habit - "I have a problem: I'll go to the stage manager." The ability to be inclusive within diversity is paramount as well, as the theatre is full of more varied selection of people than outsiders might think - a stage manager cannot reject any of them, even the really annoying ones, or the ones who can't do their jobs (as much as we would sometimes like to).

The next biggest one is Stress or Pressure. The responsibility of a stage manager is broad and deep,
with little things and big things of wildly different sorts all coming under their remit - the prop pencils on the set desk have to be arranged just so, and also the company time sheets have to be cataloged; make the coffee, and also coordinate the timetable to accommodate every single department's needs. Often needing to be in three places at once, doing a lot of running around the building/city, coming in first and leaving last, being expected to be in charge of facilitating everyone else's ideas in time, to budget, often without much help. All with the other expectation that you are the cheery one, the calm one, the one that knows everything that's going on even (though no one seems to bother to tell you anything), the one everyone can rely to put in the extra effort, and achieve miracles out of nothing.

Piggy in the middle AKA the SM department
I like to call one of the traits of stage management Translation, and I think this applies to being a priest as well. It means being a radial point from which vastly different spokes connect for the one interconnecting reason or goal, and therefore needing to know exactly what each spoke wants, how it operates, what it needs out of the other spokes, how to get that, and most importantly, how to translate the one's needs into the other's language so they can coordinate.

Linked that idea is involvement in Negotiation/Conflict. Your spokes, even with you translating, can push against each other, and as the radial point, it is your job to put the reason/goal for working together first, often reminding them of it - the stage manager is the person who puts the show and the humanity of the people involved first, helping everyone compromise to achieve their shared goal (once they've remembered what that was) and do what is best for that goal and each other, rather than letting ulterior motives, or petty issues of pride dictate the company's choices.

A little bit of blasphemy...
How does one achieve that? Change and Flexibility. Being able to speak the language includes adapting to each spoke's needs. But also on different shows, the lighting spoke on this show might be very different to the lighting spoke on the last show eg style, people, resources. The stage manager has to still hit all the criteria, but that can look very different when you have more direct people, less people, no money, rather than people who 'play the game', loads of people, and a bit more money (it is never enough money...). How I interact with my line manager or my director has looked vastly different show-to-show, based on the sort of people they are and the show we're doing.



It comes down to Facilitating, Collaborating, and Communicating.

At least on the outside...


So what sort of characteristics does a stage manager need? I'm going to copy and paste from the Criteria again. Mature and Stable - there are enough egos, motivations, dreams, emotions and mental states to deal with and manage, without the person who's supposed to coordinate them adding to the complicated mix. Stage managers are relied upon, by dint of being stage management, to keep calm. It is the stage management department that in practical terms, has 'being the grown ups' as part of the job description. That also means having an exterior support network that you can rely on when you need time to be your own person, so as not to lose you humanity. You have dreams and emotions and the rest of it too, so it's important to have people in your life you can express those to, when most of your time is spent putting them aside for the sake of others.

Another thing that a company will rely on is the Integrity, the Trustworthy-ness of its stage management. It's that putting the humanity of people first thing again, and going back to the acceptance of all, rejection of none motif. If you go to your stage manager with a problem, as part of their role as problem solvers, the importance of trusting their judgement, and also knowing that you won't be judged yourself, is paramount for that vulnerable relationship to function.

This links in with the element of Leadership. SMs have 'manager' in their titles, even the assistants. I find this one quite challenging, as I've never been a person people naturally follow. Enough words have been written on the characteristics of leadership without me adding much to them, but for an SM, or a priest, it is a leadership through serving, ultimately. You make decisions, give advice, lay down the law occasionally, but when you get down to it, we are doing all we can to improve the lives of the flocks we have committed to minister to with everything we have in us, and bring about a creation, a world where all are happy, their dreams have come true, and (S)He's purpose for us all has been brought about. (People in my life have realised that I may tell an anecdote and mention someone known only as 'He' or 'She', and they've worked out that the only person it can be is the director of whatever show I am currently working on, as often, making them happy becomes the centre of my life, and their pronouns are therefore capitalised).





And of course you want to be the cool guy that everyone likes.






The last parallel I'll draw is the element of Lifestyle and Vocation. Okay, so no one gets a 'calling' to be a stage manager, but it is still a vocation in the secular sense. You're not just taking on a job, it's a whole life. You're schedule is precarious, often overloaded and changed last minute. Don't even try and have a sleep pattern. And the diet goes out the window. It sounds like priests often have a similar diet to stage managers on those days when a 'lunch break' or 'dinner' are basically out of the question - microwave meals, a quick sandwich in between or even during meetings, and phrases like "I haven't eaten since breakfast" lose their drama when echoed more than 3 days in every 7. There's an unwritten, unspoken expectation of 24/7 service, and as much as we know we should carve out private lives and personal time, and even rest once in a while, we often find ourselves checking the email, taking the call, or agreeing to do just a little more, because that's not just what we do; it's who we are.

Tuesday 8 December 2015

Video: Third informal chat with the rector

First, some initial thoughts from the day itself.


I sat on the train home and managed to write down all the other bits of homework that I didn't mention in that video, and I wrote a few more notes to help me remember the meeting. Lucky I did both those things, as it's now over a week later that I've found the time to sit down to do this blog post!

Things feel like they ramp up after each meeting, unsurprisingly. For example, I talked in that video about getting to other church services - I think that's going to be a long term piece of homework, as I'm not sure when I'm going to have time over the next few weeks. It's important, but I'm cataloging it as a task to keep ongoing, rather than worry myself with doing a church crawl and getting to all the denominations within only a month. And that's only one of nine pieces of homework that came out of that meeting! I'm immediately getting a little anxious, as I was in the beginning, about being able to commit to this process whilst still working. This month is alright, but I start my next show in January, and the last thing I want to do is lose the momentum, as Lucy [my rector] likes to call it.
Imagine the man in the suit is a
woman in a dog collar

Anyway, what did we talk about? Well, I told her about this blog. I was a tad nervous, as I wasn't sure if the discernment process had some nondisclosure feature that I hadn't been aware of; but she liked the idea, especially as I explained how useful it is to have to write for an unknown public audience, which means having to think things through a bit slower and more carefully than just telling friends in person. I have to write for other people with a calling, friends and family who know me personally, atheists who don't know the terminology, people new to the blog - I even have to consider that people in the church who will be concerned with the decision to put me forward for training might read what I put here. That means being honest and whole-hearted in this endeavour, as well as clear and articulate, and of course careful of what I say about others!

We also glossed over my reaction to the Selection Criteria (see this post), things like my sexuality (bisexual) might not be the big deal I think it will, and the fact I feel confident that I can "do academic". Something that came up was the joy I feel when I'm at the front, when I'm serving or cantoring, and the value I gain from leading worship. She warned me not to let the value of worship become entirely external, from the use others make of me. A homework assignment was to reconnect with the services from the pews, not as a server, not a cantor, not even as a Lay Singer. The book I'm reading at the moment, The Christian Priest Today by Archbishop Michael Ramsey, makes the point that a priest is still first a lay person, just as vulnerable and seeking as the people they are leading, and even a bishop is still a priest and still a lay person. It's a good point to remember.

Part of the conversation was about the nature of the role of priest. For example, the priest is not a pyschotherapist. There is listening training, because there is an element within the pastoral remit, but a priest should never try and treat somebody - their support is focused on the spiritual needs of the soul. Don't ignore the rest of the person, but know that it is within that realm that you are the expert called to help.

And we explored a bit more what I wrote above, that priests are still people, and Lucy had another warning, that a priest cannot lose their sense of self and still survive. On the flip side, a priest sacrifices having the choice to just talk to the people they want to - I need to remember this as a member of the team that leads our discussion group for people in their 20s and 30s; we're a pretty new group, but now we're starting to get familiar faces turn up each month, and I have to inhabit my role as welcomer and facilitator, rather than just catching up with the people I'm getting to know and like.

A repeating theme of these discussions is that the most important thing: prayer. Lay people expect a priest to pray. I like the way Lucy put it: When you perform the Eucharist, you've got to be inviting people to the table of someone you know. Prayer is the human method of maintaining and deepening our relationship with God, which as a priest should be at the centre of your life. I'm getting there, very slowly. I'm saying some sort of structured prayer once a day, but we talked about the need to explore silent prayer, extempore prayer, just me and God on our own in private. She set me the task of reading books on how to pray, so I've got two lined up in my ever increasing to-read pile.

We briefly talked of my interest in chaplaincy. She did a panel with some other women priests, including an army chaplain, so she's said she'll see if we can get in touch and meet up, which is very exciting. At the same event, she spoke to some military personnel, and they spoke of their chaplain, or Padre as the military chaplains are generally known, who smoked and swore and rode around Camp Bastion on a quad bike! Obviously they also all the serious business of services etc as well. The main thing the personjnel reflected was that the Padre must care; and I thought "I can do that".

Two last things. There is a chance it could be a 'no', which I can't let myself forget; but I think I will do theology degree either way. And as I said in the video, no promises but she is thinking of referring me to the DDO (diocesan director of ordinands, in charge of vocations in the diocese) in January. Exciting!

Tuesday 1 December 2015

Song as Worship and Prayer

I never liked singing in choirs. I tried it at senior school but I didn't like singing the high soprano part but also didn't like not singing the tune on the alto part. So I decided I didn't like choirs and protested all efforts at sixth form to get me back in.

So a few months into being at St James's Piccadilly, I had been enjoying the sung Eucharist. I had previously had a few years of singing lessons, and always privately sung musical theatre and Disney tunes in my bedroom. But it was only then, singing every week, that my love of singing reared up and made itself known as an important tool for worship, so I turned up to a choir practice. It's not really a choir - it's the Lay Singers, with no audition, or even any ability to sing or turn up, required.

Without the pressure of expectation, and with some long-time choristers to cling to as I battled to find my alto line, I got over my dislike of not singing the tune, and actually started to a) sing chorally and b) improve. I realised my voice really suits traditional church music, and the hour before the service rehearsing with the lay singers in the church hall became and still is one of the most fun parts about being at church.

I also started to appreciate how much I connected with the music spiritually. Singing the Kyrie eleison was much more evocative for me than saying it. I well up every time I sing the various heart-wrenching arrangements of the Agnes Dei. If I get a sore throat, I feel like I've had a limb cut off.

The moment that really pinned down for me the connection to God we make when we sing was on the 16th of November 2014. A few months earlier, the cantor at St James' had come to me with a proposition. She, like any other employee, had holidays, which included a number of Sunday mornings thought out the year. I had seen this in action - she booked someone else to cover her, sometimes a professional church singer, sometimes a tenor from the Lay Singers. Her proposition was that I could cantor with the tenor, as a little duo, with the intent of preparing me to do it on my own.

Yeah, just stand at the front and lead the singing *gulp*

I was thrilled and honoured by the opportunity and the responsibility, but it was also a terrifying thought. There's normally 100 people minimum in the congregation at the 11am service; it's a big church for one voice to fill without a mic; I'm only an amateur singer; and lots of regulars are likely to notice if you forget something or do it differently (ie f*ck up).

It went fine of course, and we did a little duet as the anthem over communion. The main thing I was worried about was the blocking, there's even a couple of spins the cantor has to do as part of the gospel procession, but there was no tripping or going the wrong way. Sigh of relief.

I started to do it on my own, and with more frequency, as it was easier to book me rather than an outside professional. I still got paid the fee though, which was an unexpected bonus.

I have grown to love cantoring. It's such lovely music to sing, and it's great fun singing stuff I know and can do well, loudly and proudly. But mostly, I love leading, providing something for people to use in their worship. My favourite comments are not that I sang well, but those occasions when people tell me it really helped them connect, eliciting an emotional, spiritual response.

Esmeralda also also sang to God.
I didn't have the Rose Window to inspire me, but still

So, as I mentioned, part of cantoring involves doing an anthem, a piece of music whilst the congregation is taking communion, and I can't lead a choir, so I do solos and duets.

On the 16th Nov '14, I did a solo for the first time. I was nervous, but I knew I had practised thoroughly. The organ started the introduction and I forced myself to relax, forget about the people listening, and concentrate on the music. I started singing and the familiar notes calmed me further. I realised the building's acoustics were enhancing my voice and I listened as well as sang. As I started the final verse, I was filled with a great sense of joy. I lifted up on the notes and felt like I was shining with bright light. I was singing to God, I was singing with God!

It was such a beautiful moment. My time at St James' has an interlocked path of progress for my faith and my singing. It is my favourite and greatest expression of my faith and the love of God.

And now, a kitten.