The drive to the Minster was short, although they sat in the car a few minutes before braving the dash through driving rain to the door. It was a cold, miserable day, if a pleasant change to see the last of the muddy snow washed away. A shame, that they wouldn’t be able to pour out for photos on the Cathedral steps after the service. The weather felt most inappropriate for a feast of the Church.
Shoes wiped carefully on the mat, Tom led the way to the vestry, Ruth drifting behind. Not many of these big services left – he’d be off to Nottingham shortly after Easter, and Ruth would have a short gap before his successor arrived to take his place here. It wasn't what she needed right now.
A smile teased onto his face. Stephen’s wife was here with him, bouncing on her heels as she murmured to a small figure in her arms. That small figure, peering through dark curls, waving regally at them as they approached.
“Lizzie!” He grinned at Anya, her mother. “Hasn’t she grown!”
Anya Winterfield smiled back tiredly. “Oh yes. I expect you want a cuddle?”
Tom grinned. “That’s one I could never say no to.” He accepted the baby eagerly, amusing her for a moment by pulling faces. “Those are teeth I see?”
“There’s a reason we’re all tired.”
“Of course.” He smiled sympathetically, then distracted himself playing with Liz. She was definitely one of the things he’d miss about York Minster. There’d be babies in Nottingham, of course. But it was a shame, he thought - not for the first time - how he didn’t have a family of his own. Why not? Most people did. Had he written himself off due to disability? Or been held back by not having known a father of his own, not having had an example or anyone to share relationship wisdom with him? Or had he just become so distracted with work that he hadn’t thought about it? Years had just sort of… disappeared. Of course, he hadn’t met anyone he really liked, or at least not that he’d noticed. There were plenty of people who didn’t need relationships, Ruth being a prime example, and relationships weren’t all about families, and he could play with babies without them being his own…
“Tom!” Ruth’s call snapped him out of his reverie, little sharper than usual. “Rehearsal?” She was fidgeting with her ring, eyes focused somewhere behind his head the same restlessness he'd noticed ever since her arrest. He sighed inside, feeling helpless.
“Sorry.” He returned the baby, beeping her nose one last time. “Two secs.” He rolled his eyes at Rachel as he passed her, combining it with a smile - they'd had a couple of conversations since his appointment, and while he didn't know her well, it was a connection. Then he stepped into a cassock and emerged from the vestry still buttoning it up, annotated service book tucked under his arm.
Ruth shifted half a step closer to him, but otherwise ignored him. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
Stephen stepped up. “Right. Welcome, everyone, thanks for being here – especially Ruth, and an especial welcome to Rachel! A couple of apologies - Julia’s stuck in traffic on the way down from Durham. Plus the deacon’s come down with something, and I’ve found another but she’ll be a bit late, we’ll do a quick run-though of her sections when she arrives. Anyway, we’ll get started without them. Shall we get down to the West end and work out the line for procession..?”
They did so, marshalled efficiently by a swarm of vergers. Tom shadowed Ruth, as always, at the back of the procession. The Minster’s rough sleepers squashed themselves against the West door out of the way and looked on with mixed expressions of interest and bemusement.
The procession took far too long, as always, but eventually all had found their way into place, Ruth standing before the altar to greet the people and a server holding the order of service for her. Not that she was reading it out loud now, but she ran her eyes down it, making sure that everything was as expected. Standing beside her, Tom saw her twisting at the ring on her finger, pulling it half off then pushing it back into place again.
“I go through… the calling of a bishop. And then the declarations, to which you respond… we don’t need to go through them all, do we? And the last one… I say, “Will you then, in the strength of the Holy Spirit, continually stir up the gift of God that is in you, that the good news of Christ may be proclaimed in all the world?””
“By the help of God, I will.”
“And now you turn to face the congregation…”
Rachel turned, to face a congregation represented by a swarm of bishops, and there was a second’s silence. Ruth’s hand shook. She looked at him, and he took the hint, slipping through to her side, leaning close enough to murmur in her ear. “I'll cover if you need a break.”
She swallowed and nodded slightly. “I do. Follow.”
“Okay. Go.”
She took the invitation and left, briskly, while he turned to the Dean. “Sorry, could you give us a few minutes? Stephen, maybe you or one of the chapter could stand in for Ruth until she gets back, for Rachel’s sake?”
“Of course… is there anything..?”
“No. Thanks Stephen, we’ll be fine.” He emphasised it with a look, before following Ruth out, catching up just around the corner and falling into step beside her, trying to work out what was going on. “Crypt?”
She nodded, and he stuck to her side, to and down the steps. It was cool and dark down here, and most importantly they were alone. Ruth came to a stop, and he turned sideways so he wasn't staring as she fought for control, hand tapping against her leg as she started to shake. Should he say something? He wasn’t sure, so he stayed silent, watching and waiting. He'd seen her struggle, but not like this, and it was strange.
The silence was thick, oppressive, broken only by Ruth's breath as it caught in her throat. She ripped the ring from her finger and threw it away from her, before gripping the cross around her neck with one hand and doubling over, her other arm hugged tight around her chest, rocking. He hesitated a moment, before stepping across to pick up the ring, tucking it safely in his pocket. Then he stood in front of her, looking down. Memories of himself after the accident, wrapping his arms around himself in a similar way.
Slowly, he held his arms out, a subtle invitation, and she edged closer, responding to his raised eyebrows with a nod. He put his arms around her, squeezing tight, enveloping her as best he could. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
She just sobbed into his chest, so he held her like that, waiting, waiting for the sobs to ease and the silence to descend. A slight movement and he released her, guiding her to a step where they could sit side by side, waiting a couple of minutes more.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No. I’m sorry. I… I…”
“Ruth.” He shushed her gently. “Ruth.”
“Sorry.”
“Ruth.”
She blinked, swaying silently.
He found a tissue and offered it to her, waiting for her to take it. “You’re okay.”
“Sorry.”
“Ruth. It’s okay.”
She blew her nose. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t do it.”
“What’s ‘it’?”
A short, delirious burst of laughter. “It. You know.”
“I don’t.”
“I shouldn’t be here. It’s all a joke.” She blew her nose again. “See, I’m proving it.”
“Ruth.”
“Richard should have suspended me. Should have got rid of me the first time. I shouldn’t get special treatment, I only ruin more things. It’s not even my calling…”
“Ruth.”
“What?”
“Shh.” He waited for her to quiet. “This is your calling - no, listen. You are a Christian through your baptism, an adopted and beloved child of God. You are a deacon. You are a priest. You are a bishop. That is your calling.”
She shook her head.
“Yes, it is. It is. And no, you cannot bear the weight of this calling in your own strength, but only by the grace and power of God. To how many people have you told exactly that? And yet you think you’re somehow capable enough, experienced enough that it doesn’t apply to you? Your calling is heavier than most, of course you’re struggling.”
“Richard left, it should have been me, I’m the one who messed up. I should have resigned before, I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can. However unworthy you might be, however many mistakes you might have made, we need you and we want you. God has called you, you’ve never run away before – and that’s a sign of strength in itself. And yes, it’s difficult right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still called to it. You love your ministry, it’s hard but you love it. It fits you perfectly, it's life in all its fullness. Don’t tell me you’re not called. You’re as worthy as anyone else, and if that’s not very worthy then… well, we’re all unworthy but God calls us anyway, that’s kind of the whole point.”
“Yeah.” She picked at her nail. “Yeah I… I guess.”
“Take your time. We’ll go back when you’re ready.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Yes you do.”
“Julia can. As my deputy.”
“You're not doing that.”
She brushed her hair out of her eyes with a fumbling hand. How old was she, he wondered? Over sixty, he remembered the party a few years ago… right now, she looked it. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? And don’t give me the “not worthy, might not be valid” nonsense, you know better than that. Is God really going to base the bestowal of grace on your worthiness – or lack thereof?”
She hiccoughed. “The unworthiness of the minister… which hinders not the effect of the sacraments.”
“Good. I didn’t think I’d ever seen you leave any buttons undone.”
That made her laugh. “Sorry about… you know. What will... they think?”
“Um… probably not much. You got out, that’s what you needed to do, and they will simply accept that archbishops move in mysterious ways.”
“I knew it was coming. Hasn’t happened for… twenty years? I think more? It was... being arrested, put me on edge.” She shuddered, lost again in her own world for a few seconds.
“But you saw the signs. That's good.”
She shrugged. “Thanks for… you know.”
“That’s alright. I just admire you for dealing with it so well.”
“Yeah right.”
“Come on. You’ve seen me cry enough times, even have a couple of panic attacks. You've never judged me for it, have you?”
“No. Obviously not.”
“Well, this doesn’t change how I see you. Helping you is a privilege.”
“Thanks.” She swallowed and hesitated. “That… helps.”
“Good. Now, pull yourself together. Kath’s been muttering about having to cut into your next retreat, but I’m not having any of that. Might even manage to steal you a couple of extra days, though it’s unlikely.”
“Feels like I’ve been messing things around more than doing any actual work, I hardly deserve it.”
“We’ve talked about worthiness already. You need it.”
She laughed. “Thanks.”
“Now." He held out her ring until she gave him her hand, then slid it back onto her finger. "Silent prayer, wash your face, join us when you’re ready?”
“Yeah. That’d… be sensible.”
“Alright. I’ll go cover for you, keep them in order. You’ve got here, or the Blessed Sacrament. So much choice!”
“The Blessed Sacrament. Yes.” She stood up, waiting for him to do the same.
“Say one for me.”
“Sorry I couldn’t… actually deal with it. And for… everything. You know.”
“It's okay. Go see Jesus.”
“Yes. That.”
“Bear through. It’ll get better.” He half-smiled. “You never know, we might even get another election soon…”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re spoiling the moment.”
He left her to it and headed back to the altar, collecting his thoughts as he went, planning what to say. Just as well, because subtle as he was returning to the nave, he was spotted immediately and the stares of a few attracted the eyes of others.
“Sorry about that. Ruth felt a bit wobbly suddenly and needed a few minutes out, she’ll be fine by the time we get to the service. Stephen, do you want to carry on pretending to be the archbishop or shall I..?”
“So long as it’s not whatever the deacon’s got. Anyway, I passed the job over to Andrea, she’s standing in.” Tom caught the wicked twinkle in his eye and glanced at Andrea, the youngest member of Chapter, standing awkwardly in front of the kneeling Rachel with her hands shoved behind her back. “Okay, Andrea, the archbishop now lays hands on Rachel’s head…”
“We don’t have to do that now, surely?”
“Rachel needs a proper practise. Go on…”
“Tom can take over now, surely?”
“He has his own role to rehearse. Go on…”
“I’d rather not.”
“You’re not actually consecrating anyone, it’s just for practise purposes,” Stephen told her. “Get on with it.”
She sighed and reached out her hands over Rachel’s head with a last desperate glance around, letting her fingers just brush the ordinand’s hair.
Tom shook his head, rolling his eyes at Stephen before finding his service sheet and flicking to the right page of the service sheet. “That’s it, Andrea. Rest of prayer, here it is, we’ll let Rachel hear it in its full glory from Ruth’s lips later. And here’s the end: glory and honour, worship and praise, now and for ever. Amen. Hands away, Rachel stand up, everybody clap.” He edged in to murmur in Andrea’s ear. “You’re just going through movements and it’s very helpful.”
She bit her lip. “It’s just… really awkward. All the bishops there, and what if the archbishop comes back?”
“She’ll step back in and release you. And she’ll know it’s Stephen’s fault.”
Stephen looked at his watch. “Deacon should be here in ten minutes. We’ll pause a moment in case she’s early, since there’s not much point in rehearsing the next bit without either her or Ruth. Sit down and relax for five minutes.” He slipped over to Tom’s side. “Is Ruth okay, should someone go and find her?”
“Don't disturb her, she’ll be fine for the service.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I am. She knows what she needs.”
They were interrupted by swift feet in the south aisle, as a breathless deacon came into sight. Tom raised his eyebrows. “Found yourselves a transitional deacon, then?”
“Ruth asked us to slip her in, we were just going to find her a corner to watch from but… with Colin being ill, we thought we’d rope her in. Mark would have volunteered her if he was still around.”
“And she’s okay with this?”
“She agreed.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “And this much staring is going to make her wish she hadn’t.” He moved away as he spoke, going over to greet her. “Hi Lucy, good to see you. Sorry, I gather you’ve been pressed into service, I know that’s not what Ruth intended… ready to get cassocked and join the rehearsal?”
She nodded.
“Good. Pop it on and come to join us. I’ll show you the vestry as soon as we’ve finished the rehearsal, for now just leave your stuff on a chair. We’re about to walk through the liturgy of the Eucharist, which is the bit you most need to be here for, we’ll go back and practise the Gospel procession at the end.”
Lucy nodded, wrestling with buttons. All of a sudden, there was another figure beside her.
“Lucy! Don’t tell me they’re making you do something… I just wanted for you to be in the congregation.”
“Stephen called me this morning… apparently the deacon’s ill and they wanted… a transitional deacon. So since I was coming, they thought…”
Ruth shook her head. “Take your time and come to join me as soon as you’re ready.” She headed back towards the altar, gesturing Tom to move in close. “Where have we got to?”
“About to start the liturgy of the Eucharist.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That you felt a bit wobbly but would be fine by the service.”
She shook her head. “You’re too good at not-actually-lying.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Well, it’s useful, I guess.”
“Feeling more yourself?”
“Well, calmer. Anyway, Lucy. She hasn’t even deaconed in a parish!”
“Curacy is one big learning curve, and nobody can say it isn't a great experience for her… Anyway, I’ll look after her, you focus on Rachel. And yourself.”
“Thanks. Poor Lucy. But at least she's got you to look after her.”
Poor Lucy indeed. It wasn’t the best setting to learn how to set out an altar, with time pressure and so many people watching, but Tom guided her through as gently as he could. “We’ll do another practice later,” he told her, “after the main rehearsal. You’ll be fine.”
“Sorry. I should know this stuff…”
“You’re learning fast. Don’t forget to annotate your service book with anything you might possibly need to remember. Now, everything is sorted, step to the side. That’s right… you feel very visible, but really most people aren’t going to see what you’re doing, the space is too big and they’ll be distracted by the choir, and I can help you at least with the setting up and ablutions. Now, over to Ruth’s right, hands together like this… and focus on her.”
The rehearsal over, Tom stayed with Lucy, Stephen joining them, Ruth hesitating until Tom waved her away – she had people to talk to, or praying to do, depending on how she was feeling. As the choir took their places to rehearse, Tom and Stephen took Lucy through preparing the table again, and then through reading the Gospel, Tom standing halfway down the nave and making her project and enunciate more clearly until he could hear her even without a microphone. And then, finally, he herded her towards the vestry.
“You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks. For teaching me. Still can’t remember what anything’s called.”
“I’ll leave that to your new incumbent. So long as you know what to do with it, that’s quite enough for now.”
“It’s so complicated.”
“Definitely, but also loaded with symbolism. Complicated, but rich. All together, it emphasises the significance of Jesus’ presence in the Eucharist – even if you believe it is only symbolic, treating it with respect is a symbol of respect to Jesus’ true body, while if Jesus is present, either in spirit or through transubstantiation, then absolutely it should be treated as such. So whatever your beliefs about the Eucharist, there is reason for all of the faff, every action has a purpose: we are treating the body and blood of our Lord with the respect it is due. Plus, some are a combination of spiritual and practical. Arrange everything correctly on the altar and it will be much easier for Ruth, she can focus better and preside without distractions, which will help everyone to immerse themselves more deeply into the meaning. You get what I mean?”
“It makes sense, yeah. I’m just not used to it, I didn’t really think of it… like that.”
“Well, keep asking, your new training incumbent can explore this more with you.”
After that, there was a good deal of drifting, with tea in the Chapter House for those who wished to socialise. Ruth had disappeared again, as had Rachel, and no comments were made. Tom drifted among the other clergy, accepting congratulations on his appointment and repeating the same responses – “yes, just after Easter”, “yes, I’m very much looking forward to the challenge”, “yes, I’ll miss working with the Archbishop, but it’s an exciting new step”. Occasional glances over to Lucy, pleased to see her in Andrea’s care.
And then they were lining up to process in, giving Lucy a reassuring nod as she fiddled awkwardly with her dalmatic and then accepted the gospel book from a verger. The first gentle wafts of incense scenting the air. The organ fading into silence and then making the ancient stonework ring with the introduction to the first hymn. Shadowing Ruth at the rear of the procession, a reassuring smile which she returned. “Text from Kath,” she whispered. “The prime minister’s resigned.”
“Spoiling the moment,” he reminded her, grinning.
“Oh, totally. Just thought you’d like to know.”
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