Stars appear and the shadows are fallin'

There are a few advantages to growing older.

One is the advantage of perspective.

A second is being in the fortunate position of being able to afford to become the teenager you always wished to be, although I did manage to buy my Buddy Holly glasses whilst still a teenager.

A possible third is still being around as the centuries pass.

One thing that I am aware of however is how the job I do, the job that I first began fifty years ago in  Hatfield near Doncaster on Trinity Sunday1969 when I was made Deacon by the Lord Bishop of Sheffield in his Cathedral Church, has changed.

R S Thomas captured the flavour of it in his poem: Present.

I engage with philosophy
in the morning, with the garden
in the afternoon. Evenings I
fish or coming home empty handed
put on the music of Cesar Franck

The poem is concerned with rather more than his role as a Parish Priest, but for me at least it captures the daily pattern that I followed at least until I moved to the North East in 1978.

The mornings spent in the Study, the afternoons parish visiting either the sick and lame, people requesting the sacraments, Baptisms or funerals or simply cold calling an otherwise neglected corner of the parish in order to introduce myself as the Curate or the Vicar. Evenings were largely occupied not so much with fishing, but with meetings, the curse of the modern age, but how else does business get done? How else are decisions made and agreed? How else does the Ship of State, the Business or even the Parish hang together as the Americans have it, 'between breakfast and lunch'?

Now, as a non-stipendiary, house for duty, priest in charge, albeit with a licence, I work three days a week, one of which is of course, Sundays.

Cynics might observe, that is one more day than might be expected!

So the approach to the role changes. As a friend of mine observed about her role as a Parish Priest in West Cumbria, 'so much of the pastoral work happens, casually as I walk the dog around the Parish', chance encounters in the street or along the network of footpaths, Mums taking Children to School, the Postman on his rounds, older people shopping, always happy to stop and chat.

Even joggers will exchange a brief smile of recognition.

Recently we held a long conversation with a local farmer and his son as we passed along the footpath by his front door. Recognition, shared information, a further, informal briefing with regard to the history of the parish, conversation about a former Vicar, who in fact I knew from my previous time the Diocese, each thoughtful word and piece of helpful advice contributing to making us feel part of this place and this community.

This may well then be the pattern, not only of my Ministry here, but of Ministry generally in the Church today.

One thing that is certain is that there will be fishing in the evenings because a large acreage of the nearby reservoir, identified on the map as the location best for fly fishing, lies in the parish.

So, in a reverse take on the story about the calling of the disciples, recorded in all three synoptic gospels, I will find myself exchanging my role, putting down my book, picking up my fishing rod and going out in search of Brown Trout for tea, as and when the opportunity arises I will also introduce myself to fellow fishermen with the greeting well known to anglers, 'tight lines'.

Then, more often than not, like R S Thomas, returning home 'empty handed', I will listen to music if not Cesar Franck, then possibly something more contemporary or something that reflects those far off teenage years before 'the music died'.