Bringing up the rear...
When the email came through inviting applications from third or final year curates to consider a fixed term, part time placement in the diocesan Bishop’s office as an assistant Chaplain, something leaped within me.
If the definition of vocation is clarity about the shape of the musical score that makes one’s heart sing - then I’ve always known that operating behind the scenes resonated a particular chord within me. To the question as to what happened to the three Hebrew boys when they disappear from the scenes in the latter chapters of the book of Daniel, I’ve always replied that they became Daniel’s kitchen cabinet - never seen; always influential - as he served five kings of Babylon as Prime Minister.
Imagine my delight then when I interviewed for and resumed the role. So much to learn. Yet each new piece of learning translated into another file folder in my burgeoning skillset as a curate. Every curate will tell you that, about the most demoralising aspect of the role is the sudden-onset, de-skilling that subsumes you the moment you became an ordinand starting theological training. Ordination and the start of curacy does not end this, rather you are plunged into further depths of emptiness. No matter that you were previously a surgeon or a musician of note; the first thing that leaves is any sense of competency. I will return to this in my closing paragraph.
For those who do not know, at the core of your role as a bishop’s chaplain is the idea that the sole subject of your ministry is the bishop. I am particularly taken by this quote from a former chaplain to the Bishop of Oxford, “What gets me out of bed in a morning is the knowledge that if I do my job well the Bishop is liberated to do the things that he is particularly gifted in, meaning that he can play to his strengths and the bishop's chaplain's work strengthens his weaknesses”.
““... if I do my job well the Bishop is liberated to do the things that he is particularly gifted in, ... the bishop’s chaplain’s work strengthens his weaknesses””
…bringing up the rear
…at the core of your role as a bishop’s chaplain is the idea that the sole subject of your ministry is the bishop.
The role has been wide and varied. From setting up visits to churches, to agreeing the content of orders of services for confirmation (which has significantly increased my confidence in liturgy) to arranging and arriving with the licences with which new priests are presented at the start of their new ministries. (How many different types of licences can you list?).
And each time, there’s been a gentle, teasing surprise from the Holy Spirit. Let me tell you about this one. I arrived at the chapel of an Oxford College for a licensing not knowing what to expect. Soon set at ease by the gentle guidance during the ‘walk-through’ from the Bishop as to what to expect and how best to serve him and the licensee-priest during the service. As I settled down in my fish bowl seat next to the Bishop, the magnificent choir began to sing Psalm 4. Transcendence then was being transported back to days spent in my cousin’s house whilst at university when every evening would end with his son leading night prayer while singing Psalm 4 in plainsong. I couldn’t help but reflect on God’s grace having led me a long way from one plainsong rendition of Psalm 4 to another.
Another time, in another church saw me trying to locate a wall corner to lean the crozier on having just processed onto the dais. This was a challenge as the architecture of this particular church especially favoured round edges. As I sat down, I thought I heard the sounds and cadences of my mother tongue. I looked around, a tad confused as to where I was. It was the choir. They were invoking the Holy Spirit in a song so familiar to me from my youth, that I might as well have been singing it. Yet, everyone in the choir was either Caucasian or Asian!
Earlier this week, I was relayed a message from the Archdeacon asking if I would be willing to act as chaplain for our newly consecrated Area Bishop at a civic welcome service organised in his honour locally. Without another thought, I said “Yes”. It was only as I did the walk-through at the start of the service, agreeing with the Bishop at which points I would offer him his mitre to put on, and then remove as well as bring round his crozier and then take away, did it occur to me that I would be the only person in the room knowing precisely what the Bishop was to do and when. And even when I did make a mistake, standing to pick up the crozier before the choir was fully done with the gloria - as long as as I stood stock-still, no-one was the wiser.
“Can I see the Order of Service again? I want to check where we will be in the procession”.
“You will be at the back, bishop”.
“And where will you be, Ayo”?
“Right behind you, bishop.”
In her wisdom, the Holy Spirit had lined up my placement with the Diocesan Bishop to learn a skill which I was now passing on. I find myself a link in a long chain passing on a tradition which has lasted through centuries.
For the first time in eight years, I had the clarity of confidence arising from an assuredness of the rightness of my knowledge. I was exercising an acquired skill set and knowledge base which allowed me to present myself as a subject matter expert.
It felt good.