On Saturday 30th June, the feast day of St Peter & St Paul, I had the great privilege of being at Manchester Cathedral for the Ordinations of Priests, our dear friend Kirsten Stott amongst them. It was Kirsten’s invitation that drew me there and I am so grateful to her for it.
Many of you will know Kirsten; she and Bill, and their family were important members not only of East Crompton St James with St Saviour, but also of the wider Shaw & Crompton and Thornham Mission Community. Kirsten gave so much of herself to us and was ‘sent’ by us to pursue her vocation as a Priest in the Church of God. What a blessing the Stotts have been to us and will continue to be to whichever church community they belong.
Kirsten also invited me to preach at her first Mass, a great honour indeed, and it was wonderful to see so many of her sending church family at St Luke’s Heywood supporting her too. The Gospel reading of the day from St Mark about the daughter of Jairus and the ‘haemorrhaging woman’ didn’t immediately fill me with joy but after reading a poem called “The Bleeding Woman” by Marydean, an American poet and artist, I realised it is a perfect story that frames the joys, pains and sacred privilege of priesthood.
You can find the poem and other word by Marydean here:
www.marydeandraws.com (look at the Jesus Speaks to Women tab).
This kind of poetry does more for me than any clever theology book can do because it helps me to imagine the lived experience of the person at the centre of the story and takes us right to the heart of the message of Jesus Christ, the message that through his life, death and resurrection we are offered salvation.
The whole point of the mission of Jesus was to recover the personhood of those who had been lost, maligned or marginalised by human conditions, systems and structures. The outworking of his mission was right here in this woman’s need and in her faith.
I think this is a wonderful story, but I struggle with the fact that in Western Christianity this woman is left unnamed. She has become known as the haemorrhaging woman, or as the poem suggests, the bleeding woman. In the Eastern Church however she is known to be Veronica, the same Veronica that extrabiblical tradition has wiping the face of Christ on the road to Calvary, then standing at the foot of cross.
She was so much more than her debilitating and humiliating illness. She was strong and courageous. Reaching out to touch Jesus’ cloak had the potential to expose her shame, yet she had faith, faith that Jesus would help her in some way to regain her dignity, and, she had a name!
By His grace Jesus rehumanised her when her bleeding had rendered her untouchable for so long and it is a single touch that now results in her liberation. It is such an intimate exchange that highlights for us all that intimacy with Christ is ours too.
Veronica was made in the image of God, just as you and I are made in the same way. If we truly believe this then for sure the church should model a community that offers a Christ centred narrative of solidarity with people from all backgrounds and walks of life, particularly those who remain outside.
We all share in the responsibility to create and nurture our church communities. We share in the work of Christ by making a place for everyone, particularly those who have struggled, those who have for whatever reason been nameless, marginalised, those who have felt the indignity of being untouchable. We find the true heart of Jesus in those lives.
We all share it, without exception, it is the Christian vocation for everyone of us. But of course, some have a particular vocation to serve the Church and her people, a vocation that when realised is the most amazing privilege. And that privilege now belongs to Kirsten as a priest in the church of Jesus Christ, a most sacred calling, and what an excellent priest she is.
An excellent priest is not made through their training, though of course that counts, an excellent priest is not better than anyone else, an excellent priest is excellent because they seek to do the will of Him they serve. An excellent priest looks for Christ on the margins of society and in the mess of our lives. And just like Veronica we all realise our vocations as we reach out to touch his cloak with faith and He always notices.
Priests spend a year as Deacon and are forever a Deacon even after priesting. In their diaconal year they start to live out their calling, and perhaps deal with the overwhelming sense of ‘imposter syndrome’ that so many describe as never going away.
Archbishop Stephen Cottrell writes in his book ‘On Priesthood’, “I get irritated when I hear people being asked the difference between a deacon and a priest and saying ‘oh, there’s a few things you can’t do as a deacon which you can as a priest’, thus writing off their whole vocation in one casual sentence.”
He goes on to say “the few things in question are the declaration of Christ’s forgiveness, presidency of the Eucharist; and the announcement of God’s blessing. They are hardly incidental. They are the Gospel itself: absolution, communion and blessing”.
When you put it like this, it is pretty enormous isn’t it? But this is now Kirsten’s vocation, as it is mine and countless others, and it is ours yes because the church has recognised it in us, but most importantly it is ours because Jesus, the love of our lives has chosen us for it. We each reached out gingerly to touch his cloak and he responded.
So let us pray for Kirsten that in her priestly ministry, when she declares Christ’s forgiveness, she remembers Veronica, when she presides at the Eucharist, she remembers Veronica, when she announces God’s blessing, she remembers Veronica. Veronica, the untouchable, Veronica, the one of the margins, Veronica the one willing to risk it all for his healing touch.
And may we all remember the words of the ordination declaration “you cannot bear the weight of your calling in your own strength. Pray therefore that your heart may daily be enlarged”.
Priests can only bear the weight of the utter privilege of the amazing gift bestowed on us with the love and support of those with whom we live and work, so thank you!
Every blessing,
Fr Paul .
