Sunday
Got up early for a Sunday at 7am to pop to church (I live in the vicarage next door) and put the heating on before weekly mass starts at 11am. The heating system is 40-plus years old, and 50 per cent functional. Turning it off and on again about 10 times and a couple of swift bangs on top of the heaters got it up and running. It won’t warm the church, but it will take the edge off.
Mass was well attended by our usual mix of world-diverse people of all ages from babes in arms to Renee who is 94. This week we had a load of children and young people which is always a joy. Today we lit another of the candles on our advent wreath and blessed our Christmas trees. Blessing the trees with lit incense and splashing holy water over the electric lights does feel somewhat risky – but thankfully it went without a hitch and with much delight from the congregation.
Whilst setting up for our Parish Mass (our main Sunday service) I had a conversation with a pensioner about water coming through her ceiling – the council have said they can’t send anyone out to look at it for six weeks. I spend quite a lot of time liaising with the council and other organisations on behalf of parishioners, and offered to contact our local councillors to see if we can move things along. It’s frustrating that we are forced to take this route in order for people’s difficulties to be addressed.
Our nativity scene is being set up in a slightly bodged, makeshift stable (not unlike the first Christmas, also set in a ‘this will have to do’ context). Quite a few of the figures are cracked or have limbs missing – it’s amazing what straw can cover up. I’m reminded of a parishioner who had a quadruple amputation this summer after almost losing her life to malaria. I spent long and terrifying nights at her bedside in ICU. She’s now walking the length of the church on her new legs to receive communion; it’s a sight that chokes me up every week.
Monday
Morning prayer: My main thought was, ‘I need to find someone to sing the solo for Once in Royal David’s City’. Yes, it’s very last minute. Nothing at St Anne’s ever seems to be organised sufficiently ahead of time and I’m beginning to recognise my own part in this.
The first knock at the vicarage door is at 8am. A knock could announce the delivery of prosecco in time for post-midnight mass celebrations, someone wanting to hire the church hall, a request for help with paying utility bills, or for food, or to borrow a ladder, or wanting some holy water (it’s anyone’s guess why – I tend not to give it out as I’m wary of people using it for all sorts of hocus pocus) , or candles, or a ladder – or even just some toilet roll. On this occasion I accompanied the caller to the local shop to put a tenner on their meter key.
We continue to leaflet every household in our parish, along with a Christmas card, to wish them well and let them know what time our Christmas services are. It’s a logistical headache, with the high risk of enthusiastic parishioners delivering cards in neighbouring parishes instead of ours, as parish boundaries are far from intuitive. We have good relations with our neighbours so this is a matter of etiquette more than risking an ecclesiastical turf war.
If one more person says to me ‘this is your busy time of year isn’t it?’ … I won’t be held accountable for my actions. Yes, I am busier now than I was a month ago, but if they think this is busy then they should see me during Holy Week and Easter. Increasingly the general public tend not to notice those other church defining events.
Tuesday
Morning prayer: On the way to church I stopped to speak to two people huddled in one of our doorways. Upon greeting them I realised they were huddled because they were in the process of injecting themselves. We had a brief and pleasant conversation about the weather and I invited them to come to our Christmas services.
Popped along to our ‘Hoxton Street Union’ project, an initiative that came out of our epic Covid foodbank programme. We realised that people valued the community building conversations that took place in the queue as much as they needed food. So a few times a week, people of all ages and faiths pop along to a local venue to talk, laugh, sometimes sing. We see everyone from kids and parents after school to pensioners with time on their hands and shop keepers in their lunch break. It’s amazing how the simple offer of a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits has such an impact on the wellbeing of our community life.
Found out that the new lighting system we are desperate for won’t be fitted before Christmas. It’s taken almost a year to get them approved, and they’re now stuck in China due to the covid lockdown. Much like our heating, our current system is also 40 years old and more than half the lights don’t work. Thankfully, low lighting and candles are integral parts of any church Christmas and we have decked the church with hundreds of metres of festive lights.
Evening Prayer: it was almost certainly colder in church than outside today. Long johns have now become essential attire under my cassock.
Wednesday
Morning prayer: This morning, I was joined by our Curate (the apprentice Vicar) and two interns to say morning prayer.
The Curate reminded me that he won’t be around for Midnight Mass as he will be working a night shift. He is with us in a voluntary capacity and has a day but often night job working as a mental health nurse. I’m reminded of the time he came to Mass one Sunday exhausted after the patients had rioted in his hospital unit. He had to be saved by armed police. This was the moment I realised that he was truly dedicated to the church and her ministry. Most people would have seen the events of that night as a legitimate reason to go home to bed; instead he came and served at the Parish Mass.
It’s getting closer and closer to Christmas and I am feeling the pressure to come up with something interesting to say in the Christmas sermon – but there’s no time for that today as I had a funeral to take.
When I got back to St Anne’s I rummaged around in the boldly named ‘tower room’ – we don’t have a tower as they ran out of money when they were building the church – trying to find a less scary looking Christ Child for the nativity, ideally Palestinian-looking. I’m sure there was one up there a couple of years ago. I will process into Midnight Mass holding the Christ child aloft (think Lion King) and then place him in the prepared nativity scene. The only one I’ve found so far has a terrifying gaze.
Evening prayer: Tonight’s antiphon prayed ‘O Morning Star, splendour of light eternal and sun of righteousness: Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.’ This prayer seemed fitting given the funeral I held today.
The last of our weekly Advent groups met this evening. Parishioners of all ages and backgrounds gathered and shared stories from their week; the deal is that we listen intently without responding. The session finishes with Candlelit Compline (Night prayer), it’s beautiful, peaceful and prepares many for bed, and some of us for the pub.
Thursday
Morning Prayer: My thought during the silence was ‘don’t forget to buy the cleaner 8 cans of Fosters for Christmas’
My thought during morning prayer was ‘don’t forget to buy the cleaner 8 cans of Fosters for Christmas’
A knock at the door this afternoon presented me with a dishevelled woman clearly ‘under the influence’. She’s a fairly regular caller and on this occasion knocked to tell me that she had defecated behind the bins. I asked her why she didn’t knock prior to the event as she could have used our facilities. Her response wasn’t altogether related to the question so we moved on. Was there anything else she needed? I asked. She replied ‘no’. As we said goodbye, she asked me if I could get her a Christmas Hamper, to which I responded that it was unlikely given that I don’t have a way of sourcing hampers, I could help her with some food if she called back and would make sure she had some nice Christmas biscuits and mince pies.
I texted a friend who is a well known comedian to ask if he has any tips for how I might deal with hecklers at Midnight Mass. This isn’t a hypothetical query, it happened during the sermon last year and whilst I thought I responded well and with sincerity, I would love to have a more snappy retort up my sleeve.
I texted a friend who is a well known comedian to ask if he has any tips for how I might deal with hecklers at Midnight Mass
At about 2.30pm I popped by the community garden to say hi to the Hoxton Street Union group. Got caught up in a long winded conversation with some of my favourite street drinkers on the corner. We discussed prison, doctors, prison-doctors, the state of the housing block where they live, the weather, and the meaning of Christmas, from my perspective at least. Uninvited, they promised me they would come to Midnight Mass. I would love them to come, but think it’s unlikely, plus they would be a likely source of heckling, so on balance …
I attended the AGM of the Hoxton Trust for whom I’m delighted to serve as the Chair of Trustees. It is a small but powerful local charity that provides among other things a community garden and free legal advice. It’s a joy to be working in partnership with them as we seek to make Hoxton a better place for all who live, work and pass through here. Said a few words of thanks to the staff team and volunteers and had a drink with them, but sadly not for long as there is much to be done.
Evening Prayer: thoughts while singing the Magnificat were ‘we must remember to run the hoover around before Midnight Mass’
Friday
Morning Prayer: my main thoughts were, ‘I must check that the Altar Servers realise we changed the times of our services this year’. They are an amazing bunch, mostly local children and young people who work joyfully to beautify our services with rehearsed choreography and intermittent bell ringing that may or may not happen at the right point in the service.
I cook a Ham in Coca-cola (Peak Nigella) in preparation for the parish party after Mass on Christmas day; all are invited back to the vicarage for festive refreshments. Father’s Ham has become almost as popular as my Rum Punch – any rumour of which leads to old ladies to bring empty bottles to plunge into the punch bowl in order to aid relaxation once back home.
Any rumour of my rum punch leads to old ladies to bring empty bottles to plunge into the punch bowl
I got out our best gold vestments in preparation for the Christmas services. They are probably around 150 years old and frankly they look it, threadbare on the shoulders with frayed embroidery, but still have enough charm to be celebratory garments.
Evening Prayer: this evening we reflected on our need for God to be with us.
Saturday
Morning Prayer: thought during prayers was, ‘remember to be cheerful and kind’
We have teamed up with another Hackney Church to run a Christingle and Carols afternoon in the Hoxton Market, with carols, mulled wine and mince pies. I remembered to google ‘Christingle’ before I left the house as I couldn’t remember what all the bits and bobs represent. Whilst jamming candles into oranges I had haunting flashbacks of the annual Christingle service in my training parish in Poplar with hundreds of primary age children holding fire in their hands.
Stocked the fridge with prosecco and knocked up a non-alcoholic punch.
I have finally been able to finish my sermon for Midnight Mass this Saturday. We’ve nearly made it!
After the sermon we will toast Christmas with prosecco and head to bed as I will need to be up early to prepare for the Christmas Day service and after party. I’m reminded that whatever is going on in our lives at this time of year, hope can be found in the story of Christmas that is held in our churches and in the lives of those who gather in them. Next week I’ll undoubtedly find myself at a party or out for dinner and someone will ask me ‘What does your job involve then?’ and I’ll struggle to give a comprehensive summary as it varies so wildly from day to day, and just tell them a few stories instead.
