‘Make the most of the next six weeks’, said my first vicar when I went to the 60th anniversary of his ordination, six weeks before my own retirement, ‘nobody wants to know who you are when you are no longer the vicar’.
And sure enough – six weeks later I stopped being ‘The Vicar’, the job that I’ve done for the last 38 years. And it’s true, when you are the vicar, everybody knows who you are. You are guy who stands up at the front and is seen. You stand at the door of the church and shake hands with everybody. You take weddings and funerals, you go to schools to take Assemblies, and the children look thrilled to see you. You end up on baptism photos that are shared around the world. Even when you are walking through the parish, people know, they just know, intuitively it sometimes seems, precisely who you are. As a vicar, you are a person who is known. Indeed, the word, ‘parson’ literally means ‘person’. As vicar, you are the ‘person’ of the parish. Like it or not, in the words of one little boy who knocked on my door asking for sponsorship money, ‘You are a celebrity around here’.
But suddenly, it stops. And it’s all very abrupt. You have a farewell service; you finish off the sandwiches, pack up your home and you’re gone! You move away to somewhere completely new, where nobody knows who you are, where there is no welcome party, and no group planning your Licensing Service. All of a sudden, you’re just another person who lives down the road. No longer the vicar; no longer known and revered; no longer welcomed everywhere you go.
And it comes as quite a shock. It’s not about status or position – I can happily live without that. It’s simply a question of identity. Everything that I have been and known for the last 38 years has been abruptly taken away. The rug has been pulled from under my feet. No longer does my opinion matter; no longer am I at the centre of all the activity; no longer can I park in the ‘reserved for ministers’ parking spot at Gornal Wood crematorium. I am just another person, sitting in a pew on a Sunday morning, wondering who might talk to me after the service. I have not just lost my job, I have lost my reason for existing. Do I even want to go to church anymore? I am out of my comfort zone. I have lost my identity. Who am I? I am no longer sure.
Of course, it has happened to an extent before. Every time I have moved parish, it has been a new beginning. No two churches are the same. I have had to learn the local ground rules – the traditions and customs that lie at the heart of every community, (not to mention a new set of names), but there are similarities about being ‘the vicar’, whether it’s in rural West Wight, downtown Bangkok, or deep inside the Black Country. But this time (and hopefully for the last time), it’s different. The change is total and complete. But maybe there is a good side to it. This time, there’s no hiding behind the job; no pretence of being here to serve. This time, there’s just me, and a huge pile of empty packing cases. But there is time – time to consider my own identity; time to reflect upon who I am before God.
And ultimately, that is where our identity lies. It’s not about doing, but simply about being. There’s a good reason why we are called ‘human beings’, rather than ‘human doings’. Psalm 139 states: ‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.’ (Psalm 139:13-14).
Our true identity lies in our faith in God and in being the people who God wants us to be. It’s an important lesson. How easy it is to immerse ourselves in activity but fail to relate to the God who gave us life, and who calls us to live as His children. David begins Psalm 25. By stating: ‘In you, O Lord, I put my trust.’
St Augustine of Hippo, one of the greatest theologians and thinkers of the Christian Church made the great affirmation: “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you.”
If we want to discover our true identity, it’s not by filling up our diaries with activity, however virtuous those activities might be, nor is it about being well-known, it’s not even about seeking personal self-fulfilment, but rather, it is by coming close to God and becoming the people who God has created to be. As so often, it is St Paul who expresses it so well: “Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” (2 Corinthians 5:17).
And there’s the challenge – live the new life that God intends for us - the new life – the life that brings ultimate fulfilment, as Jesus teaches, ‘life in all its fulness' (John 10:10).
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