“Morning, Tom, thanks for coming in. Making a detour in your journey.” Ruth greeted him at the door with a smile.
“No problem, it’s near enough en route. How are you?”
“Ready for this week?”
He shook his head. “Don’t think I ever will be. Nor for Sunday either, but I don’t think I can back out now.”
“Not without the best excuse in the world. Or a trip to hospital; please don’t do that.”
“You could come give me anointing of the sick instead of ordaining me, it’s all sacraments right?”
“I’ve been too close to that with other ordinands, don't. Anyway, ordination is double sacraments…”
“Hospital communion?”
“Stop it.”
“Sorry.”
She shook her head and gestured to a chair. “Sit down.”
“No Dot?”
“She’s asleep in my office. Now, ordination.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t make me do all the work. You’ve been preparing?”
He made a noncommittal noise and she shook her head. “Would you like to expand on that?”
“I mean… I’ve ordered everything. Designed my cross and had it made. All of that.”
“Tom.” She said his name quietly, warningly.
“Obviously I’ve been busy with work, getting things tidied up before I go. Thinking about vacancy and handover and all that. I’ll really focus on it this week.”
She steepled her fingers together and looked at him in silence, as his eyes roved the room restlessly.
“Sorry. Time kind of… ran away with me.”
“Tom.”
“What?”
“Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not, it’s perfectly true.”
“Something can be technically true and still a lie.”
He shifted awkwardly. “Well? What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“You know.”
“Do I?” Her eyes were still on him, his still avoiding her.
He crossed his legs and then uncrossed them again. “Sorry.”
“Why didn’t you take the time?”
He shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Tom…”
“What? I don’t!” He glared at the floor. “I don’t know. I just… didn’t. Really. I mean I thought about it a bit, but then I... kept avoiding it. I’ve got this week, I’ll use that, I’ve been saving it…”
“And this meeting today?” She raised her eyebrows. “Have you at least spent even half an hour preparing for this?”
His silence answered for him, but she waited as he squirmed. “Sorry.”
“And how do you think I ought to respond to this?”
He stared at the floor. “I don’t know.” A pause as he waited for her to reply. She didn't. “Um, tell me to get out and stop wasting your time?”
“Hmm. Yes, I think that would be fair.”
He sat tight, staring at the floor. She watched him in silence.
“You want me to go?” he asked eventually.
She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. “Not quite. I want you to go downstairs to chapel. Engage with God, and with your own emotions. Return when you’re ready to work with me.”
“Sorry. I’m wasting your time.”
“You’re letting yourself down. Go, and take your time. I’ll be in my office, if I’m on the phone when you return then wait with Isla. My afternoon’s flexible.”
“Sorry.”
She waved him in the direction of the door, and then returned to her office to sit behind her desk for a moment of prayer. Then she opened up her diary, to get ahead on the afternoon’s work, beginning with such calls as could be moved. She’d prepared her diary to be flexible in anticipation, and it was just as well.
She waited about twenty minutes before descending the stairs, taking a silent look through the open door of the chapel. Yes, Tom was here, kneeling with head in hands. Good. She hadn't really meant to tell him off, just to shake him enough to get past that internal resistance, and it seemed to have worked. She went to the kitchen for more tea, then stopped in at Karen’s office for a chat with the publicity officer on her way back up. One more job transferred. And then back up to Isla to update her, and back to her desk to work. One more phone call, and then sermon time.
Eventually, she picked up a short conversation in Isla’s office, and then her chaplain stuck her head around the open connecting door. “Tom's back to see you.”
“Thank you, Isla, the other room.”
“Of course.”
Ruth finished her sentence and went through, resuming her earlier seat and raising her eyebrows at Tom. “The time was helpful?”
“It was. Thanks.” His face was tired and drawn. This week was going to be tough on him.
“Now, I printed this off for you.” She passed the booklet across. “The draft copy of Sunday’s liturgy. You can spend some time reading through it prayerfully on retreat, but for now we’ll start with something that's not in there, the oaths you will make in the presence of myself and the registrar between rehearsal and service." She passed him a separate sheet. "Obviously you’ve made them twice before, but I’d just like you to take a minute to read through them now – and of course at any point if you have anything you want to bring up, do, but since you haven’t done any preparation I’m going to guide this meeting a bit more than I might normally, okay?”
He nodded and did as instructed, following the text with a finger as he read, and as she watched she wondered if it was really right. Was he ready, really, when she had to treat him like this?
No, he wasn’t ready. But he would be. Unfortunately in reality it would be now or never, because really, if he backed out this late, would there be a second chance? And he was the right person, even if it didn’t show right now. He’d meet the challenge, as he always did… but he’d need all their help! And in the end, God was calling him to do it, and God knew best.
“Now. Is there anything in there which you would struggle to say with full honesty?”
He shook his head.
“Good. Now. Hymn, welcome, confession and absolution... and then page seven. The Declaration of Assent, now to be made in public. Obviously you’ve again made it before, but just read through it now. Any problems?”
He shook his head again.
“Okay. And then a period of silent prayer… and the readings… and I will preach – once I’ve written it! Creed. And… page thirteen? Liturgy of Ordination, my address to the congregation – bishops are called to… - got it? Now, we’re going to go through that step by step, line by line. Can you read just the very opening, first two sentences?”
He swallowed. “Bishops are called…”
They worked through it slowly, considering each part of the text, building up an image. Being a public figure, speaking with authority. The demand for perfection, the impossible standards, the scale of responsibility.
“I don’t think,” she told him, “that when I answered these declarations I had any idea how I would fulfil them. I’m not sure I do now – well, if I do come anywhere near it, I certainly don’t know how. But of course it’s in the answers, isn’t it? Will you try to do and be all of these things?”
He took a deep breath. “By… by the help of God. I…” he tailed off into silence.
“By the help of God. That’s right, that’s what you’re being asked, will you let God work through you? No more, no less. You can’t say you will, because there’s absolutely no way you can, ever, nobody can. But by the help of God, you will. Do your best, let God make up the difference.”
“Right.” He took another breath. “Sorry, I’m trying…”
She smiled reassuringly. “I know you are, Tom. Thank you – and well done. This point is the one you’ll be taking away with you, and I’m simplifying the whole thing down to two questions: is your heart on fire with love for God, and do you believe that this is what God is calling you to do and to be? If you love God, you can trust God. If this is what God is calling you to, God will make it possible for you. Those are the truths which will get you through when nothing else can.”
He massaged around his eyes. “That’s a comforting idea.”
“It’s a world better than trying to work out how to fulfil each of the declarations.”
“You mean, maybe actually possible?”
“It can be the most wonderful thing, you know. Being an instrument of God’s love in such a way.”
“I’ll bet it can.” He sighed. “Do not be afraid, right?”
She shook her head. “Be afraid, Tom. Be afraid. But don’t let fear win.”
“Let love win?”
“Now I’ve reassured you, do you want the other side?”
He swallowed. “I’m not sure. I guess.”
She smiled ruefully. “Conscience requires me to tell you. When I tell you, pray earnestly for the gift of the Holy Spirit, do so in desperation, though also in the confidence that your prayer will be answered. This life you’re embarking on, it’s going to hurt you. If you give yourself in this way, if you live out these promises, it will hurt you and those around you. Others will hate you – you will be persecuted because of My name? Yes, you will, you will be hated for what you represent. When you make mistakes, as at times you will, it will hurt people, badly. It will be hard on you. You will change, more than you can imagine; you will still be you, but a different you, perhaps even a deeper you. It will be hard on your family, I’ve seen that enough times; never forget to take care of them. You will find yourself drained, overwhelmed, you will question your faith, you will question your calling. You’ve seen me struggle enough, and I’d been a bishop for almost a decade before you even met me for the first time. You know the reality. But you know what? It’s worth it. I can assure you of that. Living out what you’re called to do, working so closely with God, relying so much on God… it’s wonderful, even if it’s also horrible. Even when the hope you’re clinging to is your eternal reward after death.”
“Real talk…”
“Indeed. Make sure you have good people, like I had you and now have Isla, who can pick you up when it’s too much and remind you that you are safe in God’s arms. I’ll be around, if down in Cambridge, for hopefully another twenty years or so - God willing - and will happily mentor you. You can always pick up the phone or hop on the train when you can’t work through something by yourself. You should also work closely with a spiritual director, because your relationship with God is the most important thing and your lifeline and it’ll be strained at times.” She shook her head then relaxed her seriousness with a teasing smile. “Put you off yet?”
He pulled a face. “You tell me that and yet I’ll bet you still won’t let me back out.”
“Good guess.”
“Why does anyone do it? Are they all dragged in?”
She looked at her hands, twisted the ring on her finger. “Perhaps a little, at first. Nobody really knows what they’re signing up for, when they get a hint they often feel much as you do now. But they keep doing it, and do it well, and nobody could do that against their will. No, whether you believe it or not now, it’s worth it. It really is, I promise you. And so, so much better than holding back and being left to wonder what might have been. Life, to the full? That’s living out your calling, with God, through all trials and despite the pain. That’s finding out there’s joy in every bit of it.”
He leant forward, burying his head in his hands, and she let him in silence for a while, until he looked up at her with glistening eyes. “You’ll pray for me, of course..?”
“I always have and always will. That I promise you.”
He smiled, looked past her, took a couple of breaths. “And your blessing? Please?”
“Of course.” She rose to stand in front of him, looking down on his cowed figure. He’d find his own strength, but first he needed a simpler reassurance to tide him over, perhaps just to get him out of here and on the road to a retreat which would force him to find his own strength. A hand on his head, just as for children at the altar rail, taking her time to wait for the words. Her hand, through which God’s blessing was given... that privilege, of which she’d hinted to Tom, one of the things which made it all worthwhile.
His hands were clenched tight together, knuckles white, and she reached down her free hand to touch them, to release that anchor of tension. “Tom.” She said his name quietly. “According to the promises of Christ, know now that your sins are forgiven. May God’s blessing rest upon you now and always, especially in this week to come. May God’s love envelop you, and may you know the presence of the Holy Spirit ever with you as guide and comforter. May you have the strength to walk the path before you, pure and blameless in God’s sight. May you have the grace to stand in God's presence and to make the declarations put to you in honesty and trust. May God cause your heart to well up as a fountain of love, and give you strength to bear the pain that this will bring. May God protect you, and set angels to watch over you, and may you know yourself held safe in God's arms through joys and sorrows alike, and at the last enter into the promised rest. And may the blessing of God Almighty, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you now and always.”
“Amen.” His response choked off, and she dropped her hand from his head to his shoulder, to rub circles of comfort until he looked up into her eyes.
“Buck up. You can do it.”
“I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” She stepped back away from him. “And now, I send you off on retreat.”
“I guess so.”
She moved across to the small table beside her chair, reaching down to pick up two books. “I have these to lend you. You may choose not to read them this week, that’s fine if you have better ways to use the time. You can read them afterwards. I think you’ll find them both useful. Then after your ordination, before you’re installed, I have a few more for you, a couple to prepare for confirming and ordaining and a couple on the more day-to-day life of being a bishop. But that can wait. For now, are you ready for me to walk you down to your car and see you off on retreat?”
He pulled a face. “Go on then.”
“See you on Saturday night. Any changes in your dietaries? Don't tell me you're planning on fasting because I will veto that...”
That made him laugh. “Nope. I'm not that much of an idiot! Thanks for having me.”
“No worries, it'll be nice to have some time together - even in the circumstances. Don't worry, once you arrive here I'll look after you. Anyone here you want to say hello to on the way down?”
“I chatted to Holly on the way in. Right now, though, best just get on the road again.”
“I understand completely. Take these.” She gave him the books and then held the door for him. “Just to run through the checklist as we walk down the stairs,” she continued, as she led the way down the corridor, “you mentioned you have the cross? I’m looking forward to seeing that on Sunday. Then… crozier? Episcopal shirt and cassock? Rochet, chimere? Black shoes and non-garish socks?”
“Black socks, in fact.”
“Excellent. Purple would also be acceptable but over the top.”
“The vestments are being delivered this week, hopefully on Tuesday.”
“To Lindisfarne?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Just checking. Try them on as soon as they arrive, just in case. Your ring is sorted, no worries about that. Now, you won’t need it on Sunday, but mitre?”
He pulled a face. “Not yet.”
“Right. Obviously Sheffield will have a set with cope but you really will need one of your own. However it can wait. Hi, Holly, just showing Tom out. Now, I don’t need to tell you to take this week seriously. Make good use of it, though look after yourself too. I’ll see you on Saturday. Let me know if you're going to be early or late. Travel safely. God bless.”
“And you.” He gave her a weak smile. “See you. Saturday, I guess.”
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