Well, Now It’s Confirmed…
…I am officially recognised as a member of the Church of
England. This fact is as much a surprise
to me as it may be to anyone who has known me over the years, and especially
those who had me pegged as some kind of Evangelical Charis-maniac, with
mystical leanings, mixed with a certain theological nerdiness. Indeed, I have
been known to be quite intolerant of institutionalised religion: its “dressing
up,” professional priests, mindless repetitions (aka “Liturgy”!) and its determination
to recreate the Temple worship in form and function, with the C of E high on my
ecclesiological hit-list, and so, spent many years in the wastelands of
Evangelical, Pentecostal and Charismatic forms of church and worship. Until I didn’t
- and went abroad (to France and Turkey) for a total of 25 years, during which
time I deliberately had nothing to do with Christians, churches of any stripe;
or God, for that matter.
But God never stopped having something to do with me. That’s
a bit of another story which I might, one day, relate. The tale I am telling
today is more specific in that it concerns how, and why, last night I was
standing for over two hours in Norwich Cathedral.
Let me just set a marker here and say that I have had an
especial fondness for Norwich Cathedral for many years, though I could not
quite put my finger on why, or what particularly attracts me about it, compared
to, say, other great cathedrals I enjoy being in such as Canterbury, Chester
(moody and ruddy though it is!), Peterborough, Ely, and Rochester, this latter in
which I spent a great deal of my childhood.
I think Suzy Watson does a pretty good job of bringing out
the uniqueness of Norwich Cathedral, on her blog Explore Norfolk.Co.UK. “Norwich Cathedral is the most
magnificent, stunning, inspiring and breath-taking example of a place of
worship that I have come across,” she writes, “and it’s no wonder that it rates
as Norfolk’s favourite building. I’ve visited a few cathedrals in my time, but
this one really does beat them all…Situated in the middle of Norwich UK, it’s
the most complete Norman Cathedral in England.”
Even so, I wasn’t expecting quite what I experienced this
Holy Saturday as I joined some 20 or more, mostly much younger, candidates for
confirmation. And hundreds of worshippers!
I am sitting just inside the West Door, initially, as we all
were, waiting to be rehearsed through the various stages of the ceremony and
the Service of “The Easter Vigil with Holy Baptism, Confirmation and the First
Eucharist of Easter,” as it states on our Order of Service. This, apparently,
is a Norwich Diocese Tradition, as they like to bring all of Norfolk’s
parishes’ confirmation candidates together for a mass confirmation as part of
the conclusion to Holy Week.
It is twilight in the Cathedral as there are only a minimum
of uplighters refracting from the roof and pillars. The residual light is from
a number of candles. It is silent, soft, strangely spiritual, and almost soporific
– except my heart is beating just a bit too fast to actually doze off. If I
listen carefully, I’m sure I can hear fellow confirmers Freya and Regan’s, as
well as other, nearby hearts, notched up a little in tempo, too.
The rehearsal is, well, well-rehearsed, as you can imagine,
as the Cathedral, anyway, does not like to leave anything to chance or to get
out of control! Nor do they want any of us to be lost, worried, or unprepared,
such is their kindness and consideration. We have been taken to the big copper
font (formerly two chocolate-making vats from the long-closed down Rowntree
factory, where two of us will be baptized) and then on to the altar, where we
will be confirmed, and then further still, under the Organ, through the Choir Stalls
and, finally, to the Communion Rail before the Great Altar. All this in the
womblike embrace of a hushed and dusky cathedral.
I can hear her breathe, reassuringly.
I have never experienced anything like this in my life, and I
am soaking it all up to hold and cherish in my body for ever. Her perfume will
remain an olfactory memory for life.
I am here because I have been called, I am pretty sure by
God, to seek training to become a Licensed Lay Minister (LLM) in the Church of
England at St Peter’s in Sheringham. To be eligible, I have to have been
baptized (any proof of baptism is acceptable, such as in a Baptist Church or similar)
but confirmed in the Church of England. Having sorted out the
proof of baptism, it remained for me to be confirmed in order to tick all the
boxes of ‘legal’ requirements towards consideration for ordination, or training
into ministry.
At eight o’clock, precisely, the Bishop of Norwich, the choir
and assorted clergy rustle up in silence and take up their positions. We’re
off! The deacon prays, then the bishop, after which prayer he incants a
Blessing of The New Fire (which I have never witnessed) upon which a kind of
fire pit (as it looks like) erupts in an upward jet of flame that will burn
thus throughout most of the proceedings. It is as startling and impressive as
the columns of fire you see at sports events or some Pop concerts. It reminds
me of the column of fire that guided the Israelites through the nights in the
Wilderness.
And then I’m on.
I had accepted the invitation to read in the service, and
discovered I would be first, with a long passage from Genesis relating the
Creation story. I have prayed about this moment; I have prepared with a couple
of run-throughs at home to decide upon a tone, a pace, a rhythm, a spirit. This
is where the atmosphere, for me, changes. I am aware of the nearest faces of my
confirmation colleagues, glowing softly in the candlelight; I can barely make
out the faces of the front row of the congregation – the rest are a tangible
presence but otherwise invisible in the vast, hushed universe that is this
extraordinary space.
I begin, at The Beginning:
“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the
earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep,
while a wind from God swept over the waters…”
And so on until the final line of the section I am to read,
“These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were
created.” Stop.
A calm, deep inspiration.
I regain my seat.
Something has happened - and I will remember it for the rest
of my days. As I began to read - the acoustics echoing the words through time
and this vast, bated space, enabled by an extraordinarily sophisticated sound
system - I sensed Another Presence regulating my voice, my breathing, my sounds,
and my silences. Dare I write this? – it was as real and as remarkable as I
imagine it was in the synagogue, the day Jesus began to read: “The Spirit of
the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to bring
good news to the poor…” It was the Holy Spirit among us: there is no other
explanation, and the surprises went further as total strangers stopped me
afterwards, to thank me and to testify to the effect the reading had had upon
them. This is the glory, grace and goodness of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
whose “word goes forth and shall not return from the earth void, or without
accomplishing the purpose for which it [He!] was sent.”
I experienced the rest of the Service: the baptism, at which
the bishop invited us to dip our fingers in the font and mark the cross on our
foreheads as a reminder of our own baptism; the prayer and laying on of the bishop’s
hands as he officially confirmed us; the long, yet impressive ‘feasting’ on the
Bread and the Wine – the memorials of Christ Jesus’ Body and Blood – not to
mention the fabulous choir and their motivating joy, beauty, and skill in
singing, as well as the huge sound-scape from the mighty, magical, recently restored and rebuilt organ.
Some of the details may well fade; but many of them won’t.
Despite assurances from the various clergy, the laying on of hands will not be
especially remembered. More likely, the images of such breathtaking beauty of
this “our” Cathedral in all her grandeur and mystery, as well as the sights,
sounds and smells – including much incense! – of the evening. Not least, that
dramatic moment as the bishop made the three-fold declaration in a rising
crescendo: “Alleluia! Christ is risen,” and we all respond, “He is risen
indeed. Alleluia!” Then the organ sounds, the bells ring, the church is
flooded in light, the fire extinguished and the choir sings Gloria in
Excelsis! And then, on towards the thunderous final hymn: “Thine be The
Glory, risen, conquering Son!”
Yet, in all that symphony of sound, shade, spotlights, and
sensations, I can – and always will – sense the shimmering subtlety of the Holy
Spirit speaking, singing, sighing, shouting, and sending us, at last, on our
way, rejoicing.
PS: I am so grateful to St Peter’s LLM, Julie Rubidge,
who midwifed me over many months to this moment, and who will, God willing,
continue to mentor me through the LLM process; and to Chris Rees (lucky husband
of St Peter’s, Sheringham Curate, Revd Christina Rees) through whose lifetime
experience as a producer of religious radio programmes for the BBC, was able to
give me some necessary and much appreciated coaching in public reading during the months I
was reading in church before this (unexpected) event.
*The Font is used for the Christian rite of Baptism, but
once upon a time, Norwich Cathedral’s Font was actually two copper bowls used
for manufacturing toffee at Rowntree Mackintosh chocolate factory in Norwich! The
bowls were gifted to the Cathedral in 1994 when the factory closed.
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