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Rector’s Letter
The Rectory, December 2002
I
have heard it whispered (not widely) that some people are not sure where I
am coming from, theologically speaking. Well, if that means I am keeping
people guessing, I’m delighted! One of the most incomprehensible features of
church life is the desire to stick labels on people, especially clergy. I
suppose it has something to do with this longing for comfort and security.
If we can put this or that person neatly in a box, then we can decide
whether they fit or don’t fit our expectations, and then it is easier to
deal with them.
The interesting thing is that, as a relative newcomer to St Peter’s and
an even newer comer to All Saints’, I have to say I’m not quite sure how to
label them either! And that too is a good thing. Both churches try hard to
be open to all, regardless of background, tradition or personal
circumstances. Excellent! But that openness, which is undoubtedly attractive
- and you wouldn’t find me in any other sort of parish - brings with it its
own problems to do with identity, the things that hold us together. This
becomes ever more apparent as we face the need to change and develop,
because it seems that, actually, there is not a great deal of common ground
amongst us. I remember Eileen saying to me when I first arrived that needed
to recognise that there was a ‘St Peter’s way of doing things’. And of
course that had to do with leading worship in the best possible way -
decorum and order and beauty, but without fuss; but there are also
undertones in that phrase that suggest that no-one has the right to suggest
change, that the ‘tradition’ dictates rather than those who have chosen to
make their spiritual home in either of our congregations. I know that for
every person who wants no innovations in our liturgy, there is another who
wants change; for every one who detests any hymn written after 1950, there
is another who would (in moderation) like something a bit more modern; for
every one who loves the traditional formality of the worship, there is
another who would welcome a little more informality.
Back to basics
So, it will never be right, whatever we choose to do in the future. But
at Christmas time, we are surely drawn back to basics. Christmas is
unquestionably time to reflect on what our priorities are. Our transcendent,
glorious God in a manger. The Word made Flesh. Not in a church, not
surrounded by great music and fine vestments and silver tableware, no great
actors, no recognisable VIPs, no powerful preachers, no fussing about
details, no sulking about this-or-that that has or hasn’t happened. Just one
mighty outpouring of love, God among and within his people, immersed in our
joy and our pain, our darkness and our light, our hopes and our fears. In
the Incarnation, God makes his priority absolutely plain - he will stop at
nothing to love his people, and he gives everything he has in order to show
to us once and for all what his love is like. These are the ‘tidings of
comfort and joy’ that we celebrate year and year about.
Of course, in the Christian year we tend to use Lent as the period for
stripping down to basics and repairing our faith commitment, but perhaps it
is actually during Advent and Christmas that we are most powerfully reminded
that the complexities, the minutiae, the frustrations of being part of a
church community are no more than fripperies, baubles on the tree of faith.
It is digging deep to the roots of the tree, down to the foundations, to
allow the Spirit of God, alive and at work in each one of us, to take us
beyond the immediate, the superficial, to begin to reveal the glory of the
vision of God in his creation. That’s what I believe we are about, and
unless we continually engage in that exploration for the God who loves us
and is born in us, then what we have to offer others is little more than a
façade, a house built on sand.
What sort of Rector have we got?
So, label me if you wish - the heart of my belief lies in John’s Gospel -
‘God so loved the world that he gave his Son’. The Incarnation transforms
the world and enables us to encounter God in one another and in the richness
of creation (that’s catholic). This is great news for the world, and
we need to live as if we believe it (that’s evangelical). God invites
all people, in every place, regardless to his banquet (that’s liberal),
and he has a special place (and so should his church) for those who are
outcast, those who are the least of our sisters and brothers (that’s called
radical, but is actually the basics of the Gospel).
So may the joy and the beauty and the simplicity and the peace of our
Incarnate God reign in your hearts and in your homes this Christmastide and
always.
Andrew Deuchar
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