“…she told me to bring my license…”
Tim raised his eyebrows, about the closest he ever came to showing surprise. “What did you do?”
She squirmed. “I… said I didn’t want to be a priest anymore. That I was tired of giving and getting nothing back and… all that.”
“She didn’t try to persuade you otherwise?”
“No, she said… she felt the same, sometimes.”
“Our Archbishop is human too, wonderful to know. What else did you do?”
“Um… I said I was being serious.”
“Were you?”
“I… dunno.”
“Well? Do you want to be a priest?”
She stared at the floor. “Obviously.”
He sighed. “What am I to do with you, Lucy?” She looked up to see him shaking his head. “Well, go on. Don’t be late. Remember your manners. You have your license?”
“Do I have to..?”
“Yes, you have to take it! Go!”
She hung her head as she shuffled out to the car, climbed into the driving seat and spent far too long adjusting the mirrors. Ruth was just testing her, right? She wasn’t being serious? The precious piece of paper, in her bag on the passenger seat… maybe she could leave it in the car? Near enough to get if Ruth made her?
Up the gravel drive, into the car park. The steps slick with last night’s rain, the door opening easily at her push. “Lucy Green, I have a meeting with the Archbishop…”
“Thanks, Lucy, take a seat. Can I get you a drink or anything?”
“Um… no thanks…”
“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” And the receptionist was back behind her computer screen, typing rapidly. Lucy sat, and waited, and fought the urge to leg it back out the door. The email, so short, was firmly embedded in her head…
Dear Lucy,
Archbishop Ruth tells me you are expecting a meeting with her, please could you reply with which of these times would be convenient.
Best wishes,
The Rev’d Dr. Isla Fayazi
Chaplain to the Archbishop of York
Nothing in it to indicate anything. Not even a mention of the license, whether she still needed that, it was only from the conversation… And there was the Archbishop’s Chaplain in the doorway, coming towards her.
“Lucy? I'm Isla, it’s good to meet you, come on up…”
Lucy followed obediently, straightening her collar at the top of the stairs. She was ushered into the Archbishop’s office, shown a chair opposite the desk. Ruth looked up with a tired smile.
“Good morning, Lucy. Thank you, Isla.”
The door closed.
“Thank you for coming. You brought your license?”
“Yeah…” Lucy dug in her bag, slid it onto the desk reluctantly. Ruth took it and examined it, then placed it in the space between them and looked over her glasses.
“Have you had a bit of a think, since our last conversation?”
Lucy squirmed. “Yes, I…” She stammered into silence.
And Ruth reached out, took the license in her hand again, and held it up. “You still want it?”
“I… yes. I do. I know…”
“Sure? You still want to do this? To be a curate, and perform all the duties that entails? To serve, by my authority and under Tim's direction, the people in his benefice?”
Lucy nodded. “Yes. Please.”
“Then I think you’d better take this.”
And there it was, back in her bag, safe and sound.
“Are you okay?”
Lucy dashed away a tear with the back of her hand. Ugh, not again. “Sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“It made me realise…”
“How much your ministry means to you?”
She nodded.
“Well, go on. Put it into words.”
“Um…” Lucy dug through the thoughts which had filled her mind since the email the previous week. “It’s… really hard sometimes… but it’s not as hard as… not doing it. It’s what God’s called me to, it’s my whole life, it’s the best thing… even when it’s hard. Like… being with people, when they need me. Being able to… offer them… God. Like… helping them with… like, reconciliation, like you did with Sam. And when they’re dying, being there when they’re dying. And being the one… people come to. When they don’t know… who to come to. When they can’t talk to anyone else… they trust me… I can’t stop doing that. Even though it’s… so hard sometimes. I’m working with God, who… loves me. And that makes everything… worthwhile.”
A small smile appeared at the corners of Ruth's mouth. “You know how happy it makes me to hear you say that?”
“I thought… I’d annoyed you too much.”
“Oh, I know, and it wasn't really fair of me. I don't have the power to just terminate your licence like that anyway, and wouldn't even if I did, but still. I should have had the patience to ask you that calmly, and helped you find the answers, just… well, you don’t need my justification.” Ruth picked up a pen and rolled it between her fingers, not meeting Lucy's eyes.
Lucy crossed and uncrossed her legs. “You deal with a lot.”
“You’re too generous. Life’s not been kind to you either. How has the past month been?”
Lucy sighed. “It’s… getting easier. I went to see Sam’s mum and dad, that was… hard, but good. They told me about her as a kid, and growing up, and how… she kind of drifted away. How they didn’t really understand it when she became a Christian, and then didn’t really tell them about any of the vocations stuff, just went and… did it. And how it made things even worse with her... her brother. I shouldn’t have mentioned it, at the funeral, I should have realised there was a reason they were avoiding it.”
“Yes. You’ll remember that, in future.”
“Yeah, I will. But anyway… just me and them, they wanted to know all of it. All the stuff at the end, not just the good stuff. What it means, being ordained, and… what actually happened, at the end. The details. They just knew she’d lost her job, not really… why, or any of the procedures, or how things were handled afterwards. Like how you met her later – I told them how you helped her understand things, and comforted her, and how she was… happier, after. And why she went to the priory, why that was good for her. And just… all the memories. Stuff they missed.”
“That’s the trouble with things like this. So few people know the truth.”
“Yeah. And… it was good, to be able to explain things properly. A shame we couldn’t do it earlier. Sam didn’t want to go back, after… and I can kind of… see why. But at the same time, they’d have loved to have her, it wouldn’t have been as bad as she thought. But anyway.”
“Yes.” Ruth was still twisting that pen. “Your training incumbent called me this morning, by the way.”
Lucy jerked her head up. “Tim?”
“How many training incumbents do you have?” Ruth shook her head. “He wanted me to reassure him that he’d still have a curate in a few hours- practically sang your praises. We had a good conversation, once I’d reassured him I had absolutely no intention or grounds to dismiss you over a bit of mild despair, and that I would be gentle with you. Gentle-ish, anyway.”
Lucy pulled a face. “I didn’t think… he didn’t say, when we talked after morning prayer…”
“Tim? Of course he didn’t, you know him by now.”
“You know him well?”
“As a matter of fact, we talk quite regularly, very rarely about you; we met at a clergy conference when I was a vicar - about twenty years ago now - and kept bumping into each other after that. Anyway, I assured him I was just making you think about it. If in a slightly cruel way.”
“I didn’t really think… but then…”
“Has he ever said anything to you about planning your sentences before you start them?”
Lucy looked down at her hands, embarrassed.
“Not that I really mind." Ruth hesitated a moment. "That was ruder than I intended. Sorry.”
“Sorry. He has said.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re getting somewhere. And to have that answer from you. You should write it down, when you get home, why you want to be a priest, to read next time you start doubting. Maybe even with better grammar. You’ve probably got the answers to similar questions, already, from discernment and ordination training.”
“Probably. I didn’t think to look.”
“We never do, when we’re having a bit of a meltdown.” Ruth stifled a yawn. “I’m so sorry, excuse me.” She wrapped her hands round the coffee mug on her desk. “I’ve been away from work too long, things are a bit…” she waved at the chaos on her desk, “busy.”
“Sorry. To be taking up your time.”
“It’s okay, this is worth my time. And it's good to find out how you’re coping.”
“I’m… there are things to do. It’s useful, being busy, remembering that life goes on. And doing last rites three days ago for… one of my parishioners. I’ve been visiting him for months, he’s gone downhill so fast. He… gave me a little silver owl, insisted I take it, and told me to take my pick from his books. I always hated going to see him, but then… he told me how kind and patient I was. He used to just talk, didn’t notice when I wasn’t listening.”
“But he appreciated what you did, clearly, you don’t have to feel guilty. If I can tell you a secret, I get distracted in Confirmations – and it’s terrible, I know, but sometimes your head’s full of other things. It’s definitely something to work against, but human struggles won’t stop the Holy Spirit.”
“Yeah. Well, he was so… scared. He’s been talking for months about how it was coming, but then he rang me up one evening and… it was like something had changed. He wanted to know if I was coming, if I could come the next day, and he said… he was dying, and he didn’t want to, and he didn’t know where else to turn. And… yeah, I went and… sat with him, and we actually talked. Not like usual. And I thought about Sam, and then about that Sister Mary, and how… happy she was. So I offered him last rites, I wouldn’t have done that before, it was so special.”
“Dear old Sister Mary. Yes, I’ve known her a few years. Sharp as a knife, especially when I first knew her, and always so contented with her lot – though no doubt she’s had her own struggles, in private.”
“Yeah, it’s like… she was so certain, it makes it more convincing, the idea of… heaven. Eternal life. All that.”
“I’m glad it had that effect on you. Death in the priory is… well, many of the nuns are very elderly, and as the motherhouse, it’s where they come to be cared for in their old age. I thought it would be better for you to be there than to be sent away, especially with Sam’s death on your mind. Besides which… you’re a curate, everything is a learning opportunity. I’m glad it inspired you to do that, it’s a gift you can and should be offering.”
“I’ve seen Tim do it once. And anointing a couple of times. He was so pleased when I told him I’d done it, we spent ages talking about it.”
“As am I. It’s good to hear you’re doing what I ordained you to do - offering the sacraments. It’s your distinctive ministry as a priest, after all.”
“I suppose so. I wasn’t really aware of them all before. Like, actually happening.”
“People will embrace the ministry if you offer it.” She picked up her bag and put it on the desk, opening it and reaching in to hold up each item in turn. “Purple stole. White stole - for emergency baptisms. Pastoral services book. Confession liturgy on a separate sheet.” She unzipped the front pocket. “Oil stock. Yes, people ask me more because I’m a bishop, but there’s nothing stopping you carrying them too. I organise training, if you want to learn to hear confessions - not a ministry you should be offering as a curate, but if someone asks then the answer ought to be yes, especially once you’re an incumbent.” She smiled relatedly. “On a related note, what are you thinking of doing after curacy?”
“Um…” Lucy thought quickly. “I dunno. I’ve got… a year and a half, right? With the late priesting…”
“Yes, that’s right. But it’s worth having some kind of goal in mind, if just so God can turn it upside down.”
“I haven’t thought much about it. Just that… I guess I’d like to be vicar of… somewhere my style, kind of like CKC, maybe smaller to start with. City somewhere, not fussed where, though I’d rather not go too far. But… less driving would definitely be nice. And fewer churches.”
Ruth's lips twitched. “Rural ministry’s not for you, then. That’s fair enough, you’re getting the experience to be able to make that call. You don’t mind it, though, do you?”
“No. Not like I was worried I might.”
“You’re very brave. It’s not easy, going into something so far from what you’re used to. We tried to get you a city, at least, but… Tim was the best we could find. Only available because he’d sworn he was retiring from training curates.”
“Yeah, he mentioned something about that…”
“No doubt.” Ruth stared into space for a moment, before blinking back to Lucy. “Anyway… that sounds like a good plan, I’m glad to hear it. And if it’s where you’re most comfortable, theologically… you’re not going to forget all your good training in tradition and sacraments, I hope..?”
“No. There’s… stuff I like. And it’s all useful to know – who knows, I might need it in future?” She paused. “Tim said… you wrote about sacraments, didn’t you?”
“It was my PhD, yes, I’ve just finished another one on Eucharistic Presidency. It’s kind of my… particular specialism.”
“I haven’t read it yet.”
“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. Quite catholic, I’m afraid.”
“Tim told me I should. And a range of views is good.”
Ruth blushed slightly, wheeled her chair back and plucked a book off one of her shelves. She scooted back and showed it to Lucy. “It is quite fun, having one’s name in print. One of the selling points of academia. Though awkward, when sometimes I feel I disagree with what I said back then... not about anything major, fortunately. Do you… actually want to read it?”
“I was going to.”
“Signed by the author?”
“Tim said he’d lend it to me… or I can get it…”
“What’s the point in having written a book if you can’t give it away?” Ruth opened it to the title page. “I keep a couple of copies on the shelf to throw at sacrilegious priests and heretics.”
“You haven’t thrown one at me yet…”
“Do I need to?” Ruth raised her eyebrows. “Something I should know?”
Lucy shook her head quickly, making the archbishop snort. She found a pen and scribbled a dedication in the front of the book before closing it and sliding it across the table. There was a glint in her eye, a turn up at the corner of her mouth.
“I hope you enjoy it, or at least find it interesting. At the very least it might serve to confuse parishioners at your future evangelical megachurch.”
Lucy didn’t quite roll her eyes, but smiled slightly. “Thanks.” She resisted the temptation to read the dedication immediately – that would only make things awkward.
“Right… well, I’m afraid I really must get on. Oh, and it’s good to see your face looking the right colour.”
“Nice to be getting fewer comments on it, too.”
“Well, that told me…”
Lucy ducked her head. “Sorry.”
“What are you doing, for the rest of the day?”
“Um… meeting with the family, of that parishioner I mentioned, to make funeral arrangements.” Zachary’s long-suffering children, unsure whether to be sad or relieved. She could relate, though she didn’t entirely like admitting that to herself. “Otherwise… sorting some stuff for Messy Church. Some emails and phone calls and stuff. Evening prayer. Need a sermon for Sunday.”
“That sounds like a good day's work. Enjoy it, look for God’s grace in all of it, and learn as much as you can… but I don’t need to tell you that.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I let you show yourself out, or shall I ask Isla?”
“I’m fine, I know the way.”
“Good.” Ruth smiled, standing up. “You know where I am – though I hope we’ll see a little less of each other in future! God bless you, Lucy, keep on doing your best. Do call your training incumbent when you’re out, just to reassure him I haven't mauled you.”
“Tim?”
“Again, how many training incumbents do you have?" Ruth shook her head. "I can assure you I’ve had a full report on you, and he practically begged me to be kind to you, so I expect he's currently fretting. If the worst thing he can say is a certain incident involving a blue shirt… well, I don’t entirely disagree with him on that, but it’s your choice…”
Lucy flushed red. “He… made me do benediction.”
Ruth leant against the desk. “Yes, he said. I told him it was perfectly fair. Goodbye, then, and God bless you. Don't wind him up too much…”
Practically permission, thought Lucy, as she reached the top of the stairs. What would wind him up, just enough? How about Shine Jesus Shine on the hymn list? Or “Will you come and follow me” – bonus of being one she liked, despite his irrational hatred of it… or how about both? She glanced back, at the closed door of the office, and then descended the stairs, plotting hard. Was it fair, after all he'd done to try to help her? But oh, his face would be a picture.
It was only seated in the car that she remembered to take the book out of her bag and read the dedication, with a signature familiar from the many documents she’d received.
For Lucy,
With my love and prayers for all that God will call you to do. Never stop learning, and remember:
A line in Greek. Lucy sighed internally and ran through letter by letter. Why couldn’t it be Hebrew? That'd be bad enough, but she'd only done a term of Greek, and that had been enough of a struggle. She’d have to ask Tim, later, though obviously he wouldn’t tell her. Or over the phone, since Ruth had told her to ring him. She plugged her phone into hands-free, set it to dial his number as she pulled out.
“Hi Lucy.”
“Hi, Tim. Just to let you know, I’m leaving Bishopthorpe.”
“Still got your license?”
“Yup.”
“Good. You’ll be in plenty of time for Zachary’s family?”
“Yup.”
“Not too badly scarred?”
“No. Stop pretending you don’t care, softie.”
He snorted. “She told you? Traitor.”
“Told me what?” She laughed. “Yup, I know you secretly care about me now. Just imagine what I can do with this information…”
“Oh, you want to try me on, do you?” His voice was teasing.
“I’ve got a test for you.”
“Yeah, sure. What kind of test?”
“How’s your Greek?”
“I’m not doing your homework for you…”
“It’s not homework.”
“Yeah, sure, why do you need to translate some Greek then?”
“I don’t need to, I just want to see if you can…”
“Oh, totally. What is it, then?”
She looked down at the book, ran the letters together in her head again. “Um… pistos… o kal-on… um, ymas, os po-i-esei.”
“I assume ‘um’ isn’t part of it?”
She sighed. “Can you do it, then?”
“Obviously. It’s “ho” and “hos”, for a start. Aspirate, my dear, that's what those backwards apostrophes mean, I cannot believe nobody ever taught you that. So who’s giving you inspirational Bible quotes in Greek?”
“The Archbishop. She gave me a copy of her book, signed, with it in the dedication.”
“Aw. That’s really sweet. And appropriate, too.”
“You actually going to tell me what it says?”
“What do you think?”
“You’re supposed to help me..?”
“That was never part of the deal.”
“I can always look it up online…”
“You’d better do that, then.”
“Ugh. You… make me think un-Christian thoughts.”
“I love you too.”
She was definitely going to put both of those hymns down. For a service when she could watch his reactions. “See you later, then.”
“Indeed. Have fun visiting.”
She hung up and stuck her tongue out at the dashboard as the radio rose up to fill the silence. Looked like she’d have to find her own translation... bloody Training Incumbents. Bloody Archbishops.
Though at the same time, there was a warm feeling in her chest. The grief at Sam's death was still there, in the background, but it was starting to fade, to become manageable. It was nice to be cared about.
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