“Tom to see you.”
“Thanks, Isla.” She stood up to greet him. “Do come through, I won’t face you across a desk. Dot…”
The dog pulled herself to her feet and limped after them. Ruth waved Tom into a seat as she closed the door, then settled herself slowly, looking him up and down before saying a word.
“So. What can I do for you?”
Tom looked at his hands. “I don’t feel able to offer myself for consecration. I intend to withdraw from the position of Bishop of Sheffield. I do not feel able to minister as a priest, let alone a bishop, and so am also contemplating resigning my orders. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
She observed him in silence for a minute. “You believe that this is what God is calling you to do?”
He licked his lips. “It’s my decision.”
“I see.” She stood up, took a box of matches, and lit the candle on the table between them. “Let this candle be a reminder of the light of Christ’s presence with us in this conversation.”
“God asks if I’m willing. I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She could see the tears shimmering in his eyes already. “Because… because I’m not.”
“Would you like to try again?”
He dashed a hand impatiently across his eyes. “Because I can’t do it. I’ve given it all. Nothing left.”
“Nothing?”He shook his head. “I’m just… tired. So tired. It hurts. And I’m tired. And I can’t do it any more.”
“I see.” Take your time, she reminded herself. “What is God calling you to do?”“I don’t know.”
She saw him swallow. “No idea?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Anything.”
“Even if that ‘anything’ is quit?”
“It’s not.”
“Is God calling you to be a bishop?”
“I don’t know.” He swallowed again. “I don’t care.”
“It is the belief of the Church, through those appointed to discern such things, that you are.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“It is something that you believed yourself, when you accepted the appointment.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Tom, nothing you have told me persuades me that you should not become a bishop.”
“But free will.”
“Please. Don’t ruin your own life with stubbornness.”
“I’m stubborn?”
“Tom, God’s call is a gift, offering the chance to live life in all its fullness. You are angry, yes. You are tired, yes. Your are in pain, yes. The answer to that is not to run away. It is certainly not to defy God for the sake of… what? Revenge? Spite? Fear?”
“It’s a choice. I’m just saying no.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to. Because I can’t.”“You can.”
“I can’t.”
“Not with your own strength, but with God…”
“God’s not helping. I don’t want God’s help.”
“Why not?”
“Stop grilling me. I just don’t.”
Ruth lowered herself from the chair onto the floor, where she could reach Dot more easily. “Come and pet dog.”
“Why can’t you just give up?”
“Because I love you, Tom. Come. You said you were tired and lonely and in pain. Come and see Dot, she knows what it is to be tired and in pain.”
“Is she in pain?”
“We manage it. But she has been.”
Tom sat cross-legged on the floor beside her and reached out a hand to Dot, who sniffed it tiredly and then rested her head back on her paws, hazel eyes gazing up at him. He stroked her head for a while. “You love her, right?”
“I do.”
“Then why not let her go?”
“Because she still has times of joy. Because she still has life, because we can manage her pain and provide her with comfort. And because it would not so much be a matter of letting her go as making her go. She can’t speak to tell me, I can only pray that the moments of joy are worth the trials of old age, but I do believe that life is a gift that is always worth living. It’s little enough delay compared to the eternity that lies beyond. She can go any time, but once she has she can’t come back.”
“There’s little joy in filling out forms and condemning churches.”
“Perhaps those are some of the trials.”
Tom stroked the silky hair of Dot’s head. “I won’t resign my orders. But I will take a few years off, maybe longer. And I’m not offering myself for consecration.”
“Why not?”
“I already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
“I don’t want to.” He glanced up at her balefully. “And I can’t. I can’t do it.”
“God will help you.”
“Why can’t you just accept it?”
“Because it’s not what you want.”
“It is. I sent it to you in writing. I’m ready to confirm it to Sheffield. I’ve decided.”
“You really sent that email expecting me to just accept it?” She shook her head. “You knew I wouldn’t, really, and I think maybe that's why you sent it to me, rather than going straight to the Crown Nominations Commission. You knew I’d call, you knew I’d be horrified, even angry. You weren’t exactly surprised when I did.”
He shrugged. “Why should you be angry?”
She glared at him in frustration. “Because you know better. Because I thought we were friends, and I love you. And then you just act like I’m going to accept an email like that – you try to give me some of the responsibility, even. You try to run away, and you try to make me a part of it.”
“It’s not running away.”
“From all you’ve said, that’s exactly what it is.”
“I lost my daughter.”
“And apparently you’re trying to let that destroy your life.”
“Just let me make my own decisions. It’s my life.”
Dot lifted up her head and whined, protesting against the rising tension. Ruth looked down at her and back at Tom. “None of our lives are really our own. As you well know.”
“I know. Because if it was I would just curl up here on the floor and not move again.”
“You can do that if you want. For a while at least.”
“Nah, it’d just be awkward.” He looked at his hands for a while, picked at the nails. “I want to die, Ruth. That’s what I keep thinking. I want to die.”
She looked down, away from him. Thank you, Tom for daring to say it, even if I’d rather not hear it. She looked up at him again. “Why?”
He shrugged slightly. “I’ve lost so many people. Why not me too?”
“What about the rest of us? Those who are left? Megan, the children…”
“Megan looks after the children. I just make things harder for them.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“What?”
“Trying to make out you’re nothing but a burden. Pull yourself together. You and Megan love and need each other, and the children need both of you.”
“Used to, maybe. Not any more.”
“Trust me, they do. And more than that, they want you. Have you ever thought about what they want?”
“I just… wander around being miserable. Making everyone miserable.”
“That’s not true.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I’m not completely oblivious to the world around me? They love you, they want you around. Like I do. You’re a generous, loving, patient person who puts everyone else first. You are strong and gentle at the same time. You’re fun to be around, you make people feel better about themselves, you are a walking witness to the love of God.”
“Not any more.”
“But most of all, you are Tom Carter, and we love you, and God loves you. Because of who you are. And nothing- nothing- will ever change that.”
She could see the first tears escaping onto his cheeks, and reached out slowly, offering a hand which he took and clung to.
He attempted a watery smile. “I’m blaming you for this. I was calm and collected.”
“That you most certainly were not.”
“I was trying to be completely professional.”
She shook her head. “Stop trying. I’m not accepting any of that nonsense from you, Tom, not today.”
He stroked Dot’s head with his free hand. “Why do you have to make it so hard?”
“Because you are making a huge decision. Living with it will not be easy, so making it should be difficult too.”
“But I’m deciding not to do it.”
“You’re deciding to refuse your vocation. You think living with that’ll be easy?”
“You want me to be a bishop.”
“I want you to live out your calling. I want you to go through life without that regret hanging over you. I want you to remember that God cares for you and loves you and is offering you something wonderful.”
“I can’t be a bishop.”
“Of course not. In your own strength.”
“But in the grace and power of God. What about when God takes it away?”
“What about when the faithful one is not faithful?”
“Yeah.”
She squeezed his hand and shook her head.
“You’re not going to let me back out, are you?”
“Not unless you have a good reason.”
“And all the ones I’ve told you..?”
“Not good reasons.”
He groaned. “You know you said I could curl up on the floor if I wanted..?”
“You may.”
“I’m going to do that. And hope it all goes away.”
“You do that.” She watched him do that, rest his head on the floor and stare unblinking into space. “It won’t work, though, you know that.”
“Mmm.”
“Three and a half weeks.”
“Is that all?”
“You’re moving four weeks after that, aren’t you?”
“…yeah. I guess. Dunno.”
“You should have had plenty of time to prepare. I should perhaps have pushed you towards a decision before now, but I couldn’t really have done that. But I’m afraid there’s a lot to be done in the next few weeks.”
“You’re talking like I’m going ahead with it.”
“In just over three weeks, you will kneel in York Minster and with my fellow bishops I will lay hands on your head.” She rested a hand lightly on his hair, feeling him tense but not backing away. “We will pray for you then, as I will continue to pray throughout your ministry, that the Holy Spirit may be with you as your guide. We will pray that you may be filled with grace, that you may be a true shepherd, steadfast as a guardian of the faith and sacraments, wise as a teacher, and faithful in presiding at worship, that you may have humility that you may use your authority to heal and build up, that you may be defended from evil, and that at the last you may be blameless and enter into eternal joy. All of these things you will need help with, which is why we will hold you in prayer. The ministry you are called to is not an easy one, it is one to which few can take on, but you are called and you are able.”
“But not willing.”
“I think you might be more willing than you perhaps believe.”
“I’m not.”
She looked down at him. “If you do not do this, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Yes, it will be hard, but what else will you do?”
“I dunno. Look after a parish somewhere.”
“You will wake up every morning and know that you are not doing what you are called to do. You will remember why. You will regret your decision. Don’t let that happen, Tom.”
He was silent for a while. “I’m a grown man lying on the floor. You’re telling me I’m called to be a bishop.”
“It’s a normal response. Not in front of my archbishop, maybe, but I definitely spent quite a few hours lying on the floor wondering what the hell I was doing. I’ve done it since, too, on many occasions. If you’re comfortable with the idea, you’re not a good candidate.”
“So nobody ever gets to enjoy the job they’re called to.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Last time we met, you told me to rethink. You practically told me you weren’t willing to consecrate me.”
“I did.”
“So what. I agree and you change your mind?”
“You agree and I know that you are taking this seriously. Then, you were bitter. Now, you’re sad. You’re afraid. You’re exhausted. You’re broken, in need of healing, and just about ready to accept that healing. And you know what else? Much as I have pushed you to say why you want to back down from consecration, you haven’t mentioned lack of belief or anger with God. You’ve said that you don’t care what God is calling you to do – untrue – that you don’t want to do it – probably true – that you don’t want his help – linked to the last point, perhaps with a fear of dependence. You don’t want to play along, but God’s not asking you to play along, God’s asking you to participate, the difference being that you’re being asked to bring yourself. You’re not a pawn, a convenient human puppet, you’re a fellow-worker bringing your own gifts and your own agency. God knows what you have to offer and wants to give you the chance to use it. Yes, there’s reason to be afraid, but not of God. God will be with you helping you, giving you the tools to face the challenges your job entails. As will I, as will all of our sister and brother bishops and the whole communion of the faithful. So be afraid, but don’t let fear rule you. God knows you, and would not call you if you were not able to do what you are being called to do.”
“And if I just don’t want to?”
“You do, Tom. I know you, and you do. You’re just afraid.”
“You know me better than I know myself?”
“It’s hard to know yourself. Especially in times like this.”
He buried his fingers in Dot’s fur and stared into the distance. A long silence, before he asked the question. “What if I say yes?” He raised his eyes to look up at her.
She squeezed his hand. “Then the work begins. Will you say yes?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You do. Not a completely free choice – there is an answer God is hoping you will choose, and I will do my best to persuade you towards that one - but it is your choice.”
“A choice between being a bishop, and a life of regret?”
Ruth shrugged.
“I didn’t ask God to call me in the first place.”
“No.”
“I didn’t want this.”
“No.” She smiled gently. “A vocation is a gift, if perhaps not a free one. Will you take it?”
He sighed. “I guess I have to, really.”
She examined her ring. “In the early days of the Church, candidates for ordination were unwilling, forced into leadership by their communities. That’s how you know you’ve chosen a good leader, if they don’t want the job. If they don’t want it but will do their best with it. As you will.”
“So essentially, bishops are browbeaten into accepting their calling.”
“Oh, it’s generally true of everyone living out a vocation. God asks a lot, and rarely seems to give much back.”
“Not exactly fair.”
“Would you willingly let your children make poor decisions which would impact their lives?”
Tom didn’t answer that, just stroked Dot. “I’ll do it.” He pushed himself up so that he was sitting again. “Damn it, I’ll do it.”
She smiled. “I’m glad. May I pray for you?”
A rueful smile. “I’m rather counting on it.”
She had been praying throughout the conversation, of course, but it was a joy to be able to say the words out loud, and finally to place a hand on his head and bless him. A beam of sunlight through the window made his face shine, a rather magical coincidence, and Dot joined in by resting her head on Tom’s lap. And there was a glimmer of selfishness, at the prospect of that service, in just over three weeks. The last service of consecration at which she would preside. And it would be Tom!
She raised herself back onto her seat, though Tom stayed on the floor, and considered. There were conversations which needed to happen before the service. Would it be too much for now? Probably.
“How much shopping do you have to do over the next three weeks?”
He looked at her in surprise and then realisation. “Um, a lot. I guess it’ll be tight.”
“All of it?”
“Um, yup. Looked at the stuff online, never ordered it.”
“Cassock. Get on the phone. Rochet and chimere if you can manage it, otherwise you can borrow mine, I’m not that much shorter than you.”
“Thanks.”
“Crozier? Cross? Ring?”
“Nope.”
“I’m going to hazard a guess, you have a preference for simplicity?”
“Very, very definitely.”
“Well, crozier is easy. Pectoral cross less so – make sure it’s special. I still wear the one I was vested with at my consecration, and one day I hope it will be buried with me, that's how much it means." She wrapped a hand around it. "Think about it carefully and find a silversmith. You can get them online but it’s less meaningful. As for the ring… would you let me get that for you?”
“Um, if you’re sure? You don’t have to…”
“I would love to.”
“Thank you.” He sighed. “It’s so complicated. So much fuss.”
“I can send you links to cool episcopal tat if you want?”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Sure? There are some great croziers out there…”
He glared at her. “Simple. I’m doing simple.”
She rolled her eyes jokingly. “Fine. Oh, don’t forget some purple shirts. And do start thinking about that cross. A good silversmith will help you to design something that’s meaningful for you.” She played with her own. “Do take care over it. A constant reminder of Christ’s love, it will both give you strength and remind you of the charge you bear. Of the price paid to win the flock you tend.”
Tom looked at his hands. “I know I said I’d do it, but I’m still not convinced I can.”
She met his eyes. “I’m glad, because nobody can, and if you thought you could you would only end up causing serious harm - to yourself, and to others. Shall I go through the charge? It’s an overwhelming one.”
“I’ve heard it quite a few times, and looked at it again when I was appointed, but…”
“I’ll remind you again, so that you can digest it now that it is close and very real.” She took a deep breath, weaving her fingers together. “As a bishop, you will be called to serve and care for the flock of Christ, Christ’s beloved bride, won by the shedding of his blood on the Cross, mindful of the Good Shepherd who laid down his life for his sheep. You will be called to feed God’s pilgrim people, so building up the Body of Christ. You will baptise and confirm, discern and foster the gifts of the Spirit in all, commissioning them to minister, presiding over the ordination of deacons and priests, and joining in the ordination of bishops. You will share with your fellow priests the oversight of the Church, you are to be merciful but firm, minister discipline with compassion. You are to care for the poor, the outcast, for all in need. You are to bring home the lost, declaring the forgiveness of sins. You will proclaim the gospel boldly, confront injustice, and work for righteousness and peace.”
Tom swallowed, pulling away from her gaze to look at the floor. “I’ve always wondered at your memory.”
“When you have a charge like that, you spend a lot of time reflecting on it.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’ve worked closely with me, you know what the life of a bishop is like, so I’ll leave it to you to identify whatever questions you have. We’ll arrange a time in the next two weeks to go through the oaths and declarations in depth, and then if you're still coming to stay with me the night before your ordination we'll have time for anything last-minute then. Your retreat is booked?”
“Yeah, Lindisfarne. Can't remember the fine details though, it was around that time…”
“Better check back through your emails then.”
“I’ll have to leave Megan… with all that’s going on…”
“You know, that’s the first time you’ve expressed any concern for her in this entire conversation?”
He looked down bashfully.
“Yes, I’m afraid you will. It’s not optional. Megan will understand, be understanding towards her. Oh, don’t forget to see a counsellor, or at least spiritual director – though that’s hardly an alternative. Now, is there anything you want to ask me, or to receive from me?”
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