RACHAEL INVESTIGATES: MORE REVELATIONS ABOUT ANGLO-CATHOLIC EVANGELISM PART 1 OF 2

My job is to support Christians in sharing their faith with others. It’s to keep evangelism on the table as a core thing that we do. It’s to help people to take every opportunity to appropriately, comfortably and lovingly give a reason for their faith in the different situations they find themselves; at the pub, online, at Nandos, in church.

And if I’m to be at all useful to the churches I serve, I need to properly understand if different church traditions approach this business of faith sharing differently. Logic would suggest they probably do, since they do most other things differently.

So, let me introduce to you Mother Gemma Sampson, Curate of St Aidan’s and St Columba’s in Hartlepool whom I’m visiting to grill her on this subject of Anglo-Catholic evangelism, just like I did Father Kyle McNeil in my last article. I wanted to interview them both, recognising that Traditional Catholics and Liberal Catholics may well have different approaches to this.

We’ve just got back from evening Mass at St Aidan’s, and to my delight, Gemma has provided a Chinese takeaway which makes me think Anglo-Catholics must be pretty magnificent people. Hanging out with them always seems to involve food.

As I munch on prawn crackers (Gemma would like me to stress that she wasn’t because she’s a vegan!) I start with some pretty basic questions, like this one, to set the scene: how would I know if I was in an Anglo-Catholic church?

“In Anglo-Catholic churches you’ll always find a dedication to Our Lady. The worship will be sacramental [there’ll always be one of the sacraments like Mass or a Baptism within the service. It wouldn’t ever be just preaching and singing for example]. It’ll also be liturgical [centred around a particular printed set of words]. It’s where you’ll find the bells and smells style worship. And you’ll often find Anglo-Catholic churches in places where poverty is higher.”

Our Lady (AKA Mary, Jesus’ mum) gets lots of attention in this tradition and Gemma absolutely loves her. She gets really animated at this point.

“Mary has a massive prominence in our worship. Asking Mary to pray for us is definitely one of the features of Anglo-Catholic worship. In a lot of churches there’ll be a Lady Chapel [a whole chapel dedicated to Mary], and in Anglo-Catholic churches Mary will feature in the Eucharistic prayer and intercessions. Plus the festivals of Mary will be observed, like the Annunciation, and Mary’s month of May [special devotions and services held in the month of May, sometimes outdoors].”

I’ve experienced this myself. I’ve preached in Gemma’s churches a few times and worshipped at St Aidan’s at Easter. It’s where I first learned to recite my Hail Mary. Mary’s everywhere.

“What else is distinctive about Anglo-Catholic worship?” I ask.

“Well,” she leans in over the noodles and does her best serious face “the other thing about Anglo-Catholic worship is it’s all about reverence and awe. There’s no talk about Jesus being my personal Lord and saviour. It’s about the whole church. Community. It’s more God almighty than God all matey.”

I snigger. I love this line. And I know what she means. In Anglo-Catholic churches I always feel very wowed by the experience. It feels formal but in a good way. Awe-inspiring. I love that feeling. It’s brought me to tears so many times and feels incredibly special. I don’t get the same feeling (or at least haven’t yet) in evangelical churches. Yet, I can’t help but also lean comfortably towards the idea that Jesus is my best buddy. Anyway, moving on…

“So bearing all of this distinctiveness in mind, and as I’m here to explore evangelism, tell me Gemma, how do you share your faith?” She thinks for a moment then begins,

“Historically, in the Anglo-Catholic tradition there weren’t things like Alpha courses or Home Groups or that sort of thing. What you’ll find more of is the practical meeting of human need. So, like feeding the hungry.”

Feeding the hungry? Even though I’ve already heard what Fr Kyle had to say on this subject, this kind of answer still stumps me. When I think of sharing my faith, I picture me talking to a person or group of people about how, where and why I became a Christian. I think about story-telling and conversations. Testimony. Words. The Word. So the answer “feeding the hungry” is confusing. It seems to not actually answer the question I asked.

But I trust Gemma so I think maybe I’m asking the wrong question. Or maybe my whole understanding of sharing faith is just completely different from hers. So I press on because I honestly think I’ve misunderstood,

“OK, feeding the hungry… but what about deliberately and obviously talking about or telling people about Jesus? Would you do that? Do you do that?”

“Yes.” She tells me, very matter of fact. I’m confused. I still think we have our wires crossed. “Could you describe that?” I ask.

“Well when we’re feeding the hungry [she means literally, at the kitchen they’ve set up in her church which feeds hundreds and hundreds of local poor people] I bang on about how Jesus thought this was really important and how it’s a Gospel imperative. I tell people about how much he did it.”

Could you help them reach their target so they can get a proper kitchen instead of just containers? Click here.

Hallelujah. We are on the same wave length. This wonderful, intelligent and deeply committed priest does know what I’m asking, and does, literally, tell people about Jesus. She simply tells the hungry people who turn up at her church’s kitchen why she’s caring for them in the first place.

Mother Gemma elaborates,

“So what I wouldn’t say is, ‘Oh you’re hungry, what you really need is to know Jesus and then you won’t be hungry anymore.’ I think the Pope says something like ‘You feed the hungry and then you pray for them and that is how prayer works. You don’t just pray that God will end poverty. You meet the need then you pray.’ I think that’s a very authentic expression of the Christian faith. People want to help those in need. I just connect the dots by saying ‘Well I feed hungry people because I love Jesus and Jesus massively cares for the poor. And Jesus is food and we’re fed in the Mass so we can feed other people.’”

And then her eyes properly light up and she puts down her fork. She’s just mentioned Mass, and as an Anglo-Catholic, she definitely has more to say on this topic.

“I haven’t mentioned the real presence yet! I have to tell you about that. It’ll blow your mind.” I put my fork down too. It’s about to get serious.

(here’s part 2 but warning… it gets pretty weepy at the end!)

RACHAEL INVESTIGATES: ANGLO-CATHOLIC EVANGELISM PART 2 OF 2

Read Part 1 here where I had to get my head around some basic assumptions of Anglo-Catholic worship, in order to set the scene.

We’ve been chatting in the vicarage for a couple of hours now and mostly Fr Kyle has been leading the conversation and teaching me some important things about his tradition, but most of what he’s prepared (yes of course he’s prepared hand outs and a reading list! Have you met Fr Kyle?) has been exclusively on mission, and yet I came here to talk about evangelism. I might not be a theologian, but I know they’re not interchangeable words.

I tentatively mention this and he explains. This is partly because he had forgotten exactly why I said I was coming (!), but also because, for me to understand evangelism in the catholic tradition, I need to understand the catholic view of mission first. I need to understand the huge importance placed upon community, upon the Church as the collective people – a ‘communion’ of God’s people, living and departed. Because it’s not just about individual soul saving. By this I understand he is alluding to the caricature that, with mission and evangelism in the opposite end of the church – in the evangelical tradition, more emphasis is placed upon one’s individual relationship with Jesus as one’s personal saviour (this is something I intend to discover when I visit some evangelical churches to discuss the same topic).

Back to Anglo-Catholicism…

Fr Kyle says, “If God’s one plan for the world (and there’s no backup plan) is the mission of the Church, then mission is only ever done through the Church. Seeing where God’s prompting us to be and getting stuck in. That’s the (traditional) Catholic interpretation. Where God wants us to be he’s already sown seeds. He’s sown seeds everywhere. But for them to bear fruit, they must do so through the Church.”

I’m told the whole purpose of catholic evangelism is to bring people to a living relationship with Jesus in the Mass. I ask for clarification on the phrase “bring people to a living relationship with Jesus”. I want to know what that actually looks like; what it means practically. So I ask “What does the word evangelism mean to you?” After a long pause, and careful consideration, he says it’s “Announcing the Good News of God’s love and showing people how they can enter into it more deeply. That relationship of love begins with Baptism, and it’s achieved primarily by encountering Jesus in the Eucharist.”

The Eucharist, it’s no surprise, is key here. As I understand it, if you’re an Anglo-Catholic, to share your faith with someone isn’t simply so that their soul can be saved through hearing the Word, and you leave it at that. It’s about bringing them into the Church (the people and the building) so that they can experience Jesus through his body and blood in the sacrament of Holy Communion, which isn’t only about being part of a shared meal, being in community, but actually makes them a bit more like Jesus every day.

“So,” I press further, “Does it mean actually telling people about Jesus?” I want to really get to the heart of what evangelism looks like in Anglo-Catholicism.

“Of course,” he replies.

I want details. I want specifics. How does it happen? Fr Kyle begins his answer with a brief history lesson and I worry he’s being evasive, but he’s not at all, just setting the scene so that I understand:

“The main aim is to form people into communities that are Eucharistic and that invite people on a lifelong journey of sanctification. Traditional Anglo-Catholic parishes tend disproportionately to be in areas of deprivation, or that have a history of deprivation. This is because the C of E was not quick to plant churches in the new working class communities that came out of the industrial revolution in the 1800s. But at that time Catholic minded missionaries did, and staffed them. That’s why there are more Anglo-Catholic churches in deprived areas.

“This is not only a historic pattern when the movement was beginning, but is still the same now. So the method of evangelisation in such communities has been incarnational. Relational. It’s engaging in presence for the long haul. A slow-burn evangelistic method. That’s partly to do with the aim of taking people on a journey – of ‘conversion’ being a life-long process of becoming more like Jesus – but also to do with the sorts of communities that we’re serving.

“In the past when clergy numbers were higher it meant clerical presence. Being involved in the local community. Conversations. Connections.”

I’ve already seen this in action today. When we were walking through the parish I was very surprised to see how respectful, even deferential two youths were to Fr Kyle when we passed by. They were well-used to seeing a man in a long black cassock walking through the streets. The church still means an awful lot here. Whether they’re believers or not, it’s clearly normal to see your local priest out and about.

“So if anyone was telling people about Jesus it would be the priest?” I ask.

“In the past, yes. But since the object of the exercise is to form a worshipping community, historically a great deal of energy has also been invested by the whole congregation in social events and activities that benefit the local community.”

I get that it’s natural that the priest does it, but I want to know if the congregation ever do it themselves and if there are any particular barriers to sharing their faith – any barriers that are particular to Anglo-Catholics. I’m told there are no more than in any other tradition. There are the common barriers of talking about something deeply personal, which touches on emotion. People have a fear of rejection.

This is a very stark point and I know for a fact he’s right that these are the kinds of barriers faced by Christians of all flavours. Christian speaker Michael Harvey has written and said much on this tricky topic of our reluctance to invite people to church, and it seems to cross tradition boundaries. It’s something most of us find really hard.

But is our willingness or reluctance to share our faith really nothing at all to do with our theology or tradition? I put to Fr Kyle that surely it’s the theology which creates a culture of worship and “doing church” that feeds certain behaviours, and surely that affects how likely an ordinary lay person is to share their faith, and how they go about doing it. Could it be, that whilst it’s true that people from all traditions find it hard, some congregations are naturally more inclined to have conversations about faith with friends and strangers than others?

“Yes,” he agrees. “It is possible that, because the Christian life as an Anglo-Catholic invites you to explore it – requires you to experience it – it makes the Christian life more difficult to just explain. You can’t just lay it out on a stall.” We’re back to the importance of community again and the Eucharist. It’s much more than words. I’m beginning to understand, I think. Evangelism looks very different in traditional Anglo-Catholicism because how it understands and does mission is so different from other traditions. It’s a slow burn thing. Perhaps less explicit?

We leave it there for now but my investigations into Evangelism in different church traditions is far from over. My next stop is dinner with Mother Gemma Sampson, Curate of two Anglo-Catholic churches in Hartlepool; St Aidan’s and St Columba’s. I’m keen to see if she can shed any further light on this topic. I’m off to find out, and could be coming to a church near you soon.

RACHAEL INVESTIGATES: ANGLO-CATHOLIC EVANGELISM PART 1 OF 2

THERE’S STILL LOADS I DON’T KNOW ABOUT WHY WE DO WHAT WE DO, AND I KNOW FOR A FACT THERE ARE OTHER CONFUSED PEOPLE LIKE ME OUT THERE.

“RACHAEL INVESTIGATES” IS A MINI-SERIES I’M WRITING ABOUT ALL KINDS OF FAITH TOPICS, AND THOSE SPECIFICALLY ON EVANGELISM WILL ALSO BE SHARED HERE

I’M ON A MISSION TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT TRADITIONS DO CHURCH.

This one is about how Anglo-Catholics approach evangelism, so I’m catching up with father Kyle McNeil, the priest of St Andrew’s Blackhall and St Mary’s Horden, diocese of Durham. Before I can understand Anglo-Catholic evangelism, I need to understand more about the tradition itself.

Today I’ve come to St Mary’s for midweek Mass. It happens to be the Feast of St Mark, the day in the church year when we remember the Gospel writer. He was an evangelist. It feels like it’s meant to be.

As I walk in to the very beautiful and striking church on the green, I spot Fr Kyle. We greet each other in whispers. I don’t know who starts it, but we both do it. I’m not sure why, but there’s just something about the place. It seems fitting to lower our voices from their (OK, my) usual decibel.

I take my seat and my eyes wander over the statues of the Virgin Mary and the beautiful architecture, and then something really gets my attention. Fr Kyle comes out of the vestry to begin the service, wearing a very smart, white lace garment called an alb. It’s like a surplice but longer and with sleeves (I had to look up the word, so for those of you for whom these religious words are also a mystery, it’s a “white linen vestment of ankle length, worn over a cassock”). He’s also wearing a square black hat with bobbles on called a biretta. These things are very eye catching, and to someone unused to seeing them, they also seem strange. But a far better word for strange is special. He’s dressed in very special clothing, because he’s about to do something very special. He’s about to lead us in worship.

Pic from “IN DEFENSE OF LACE ALBS”

I think I get it for the first time.

A bell rings from somewhere. I’m hoping there’ll be incense too, but alas there is none. I later learn it’s because incense is used at Solemn Mass – services that include chant and hymns on Sundays and major feast days. This Wednesday, like most weekdays, was a shorter, said service (sometimes called ‘Low Mass’).

I turn to my service booklet and to my delight it’s full of helpful instructions and guidance. Even certain words have their meaning explained, like “brethren”. It’s hands down the most informative service booklet I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot.

As we go through the service I don’t catch everything the priest says. It seems some prayers and words are private in some way. I don’t get to join in. At other times, he’s saying stuff perfectly audibly but not according to the words in the service booklet. He’s saying extra stuff from the Missal – another book that only he has sight of. I’m not used to this. Usually the churches I worship in have pretty much everything typed out in the booklet or on a screen, or they’re fully public messages for everyone. He’s also really, really far away at times, and I’m sitting near the front.

This perturbs me a bit. Like a super energetic toddler, I just want to be involved in everything. I want to hear and see and smell and experience every bit of worship. I love the mystery of Anglo-Catholic worship because it’s a sensory delight, but it seems today it’s more mystifying than mystery. What’s he saying? Who are all those saints he’s listing? What’s he doing now? He’s so far away up there at the altar. Over lunch (a great steak pie and veg that Fr Kyle throws together back at his vicarage), he explains to me why it’s OK that I’m not involved in everything.

“The Catholic understanding of the Mass is the re-presentation [he pronounces it like this because he means the presenting again, rather than the usual way we say representation, though in a sense both words work. I love it that Fr Kyle is a self-confessed pedant like me] of Christ’s sacrifice from Last Supper to Resurrection. There were parts of Christ’s last days when he was alone, doing things privately, praying intimately to his Father. And some of it was fully public, as he hung upon the cross. The priest is standing in his place. As a priest, some of what I do is personal, intimate, and some is public for the whole congregation to see”.

It makes perfect sense to me now. My inner child who wants to have sticky fingers in every pie whilst having a good nosy round at everything that’s going on, is placated. I’m reminded of the words “Great is the mystery of faith.” Indeed it is. And I like that.

Back in the church we’re getting to the bit in the service where the priest delivers a homily (talk). It’s all about evangelism, of course, because not only is it the Feast of St Mark the Evangelist, but he’s got a visiting evangelist who’s come along especially to discuss evangelising. It’s evangelism-tastic. He encourages us, the congregation to share our faith in simple ways with our friends and neighbours and reminds us of the perils those first evangelists faced and lengths to which they went to share the Word. It’s really uplifting and, I admit, unexpected. I wonder what it would look like in practice as I stare at the backs of the heads of the other worshippers.

Photo by Sacred Destinations at flickr.com

The service is over and I’m treated to wonderful hospitality in their church hall. I can see that the social side of church life is very important to these people. Friendship groups bond over tea and biscuits and Fr Kyle does the rounds, visiting different tables and catching up with his flock.

After enough shortbread, we go for a walk around the parish boundaries so that I can get a feel for the context in which this Anglo-Catholic priest ministers (ex-mining coastal village, high unemployment, lots of empty houses, pretty tough for everyone) and then we go back to his for the aforementioned lunch and a long chat.

I comment on the service booklet and how good it is. He says it’s partly about hospitality; something very important in his tradition. It explains things well enough for people to be comfortable with the mysterious environment that is Anglo-Catholic worship. “But,” I note, “it doesn’t have everything in it does it?”

“No,” he says.

“That’s so you can look up from the words and let the experience wash over you. You’re not tied to the script. Often in C of E service booklets every word of liturgy is typed out. But this is often deliberately not done in churches of the Catholic tradition. If you’re tied to the book you’re being short-changed. There’s things to see and experience. Today the church vestments were red as we remembered St Mark. Tomorrow night it’ll all be gold for our dedication festival. There’s a lot to take in: you miss that if every word is typed out. If there are words said that aren’t typed out, it encourages people to listen to the words in a different way.”

Again, this makes perfect sense to me. I can’t hear everything he says as some of it is intentionally private, and I can’t follow some bits that I can hear so that I can concentrate better with my head and eyes up. I am not a slave to the words of the service book.

This leads him onto his second point about hospitality; community.

“Not being able to follow everything creates spaces for people to experience the mystery. But it can make a newcomer confused, and this is where it’s important to show people what to do, explain where they are in the order of service. Placing the mystery in the context of community. Getting that balance is very important.”

“That sounds good.” I say. “Does it actually happen?” Fr Kyle hasn’t been in post long so perhaps it’s an unfair question. He diplomatically answers that, as with all things, it’s a work in progress. “It’s aspirational.” He says.

I think it’s a brilliant sentiment though; experienced members encouraging and guiding those less experienced. Sounds to me like sharing one’s faith. Which brings me back to why I’m here. Evangelism…

The Generic Wisdom of the Bishop of Berwick

I recently posted an interview I did with professional Aled Jones lookalike, The Rt Revd Mark Tanner, Bishop of Berwick. It was part of a series I’m writing called “Marks of a Generous Church”.

However, there was significant overspill from that interview. Much more than I could fit into one blog. But I didn’t want readers to miss out because his answers were jam-packed with interesting views and teaching.

So I’ve extracted all the non-generosity-specific content and assembled it here under ‘generic wisdom’. For those of you interested in what else the lovely Mark Tanner had to say about the church, obedience, blood biking and wearing purple, read on.

Mark, you were consecrated last October and installed as the Bishop of Berwick on 3^rd Dec 16. How did you end up as a priest in the first place? I was conscious of a calling to full time ministry from age 14. I expected I’d teach or be in the police force or something else people-based until I was in my thirties, then I’d explore ministry. I read Maths at University, then considered doing a PGCE but I had profound feeling that this was the wrong thing to do.

I still had this long-term calling to ministry. I went into one of those prayer spirals where you’re asking “Lord what should I do?” And the only other thing I really loved doing was youth work. So I applied for a full-time youth job at a church in Coventry and became a youth pastor. A year into that I recognised that the call that had been hanging around actually was a ‘now’ call.

And we’re very glad it was!  What about your Christian background? I grew up in the Baptist church. I became an Anglican entirely by accident whilst at university. So I often say because I’m an Anglican convert, I’m a really passionate Anglican!

What I love about the Anglican Church is that firstly we are the church for the whole country, not just the church for the church. So as a priest and now as a bishop, I am of course a priest for the people in the churches, but much more than that.

When I was a parish priest, whether you came from the church or not, I was there for you. That’s important. I love that God is not just interested in those who are interested in him, there’s that wonderful generosity of God who’s God for everyone.

So the parish system works? I am a big fan of the parish system, but I understand there has to be a mixed economy because people don’t just hang around in their geographic circles. That’s why we need Fresh Expressions and chaplaincy.

The breadth of the C of E reminds me that I don’t have everything right. I might come from a particular tradition within the church that has great gifts, but actually I need my brothers and sisters who come from different traditions.

God is bigger than any church or tradition, and the fact that the C of E, unlike some of the other denominations, doesn’t have just one way or praying, or doing worship, is that constant living reminder that it’s not about me it’s about God.

God is the one with the resources. God is the one who calls. God is the one who sends.

Being all the same would be a nightmare. It would be a Mark-shaped church or a Rachael-shaped church instead of a Christ-shaped church. So for me it’s about the responsibility for the nation and mission opportunities, and the breadth which draws us back to Christ time and time again.

What’s your own tradition? Mark takes a sip of tea and looks like he’s stalling for time, and about to dodge the question.

I tend not to be too bothered about that as a bishop, and that’s not me trying to dodge the question.

I smile, knowing full well what Mark’s tradition is, but eager to hear the wisdom in his answer. It’s a very good answer. He goes on…

The danger is that if people think the Bishop is only interested in that or that, then we lose the whole truth of what I’m talking about, which is that the C of E is there for the everyone. So I have to say I am rooted in a particular tradition in the church, but I love the breadth of the church.

When I went to Cranmer Hall as Warden, one of the most profound gifts that I had was out of term time, going to choral evensong every night. It was a real life saver for me. That’s not a tradition that I’ve been formed in, but for me, particularly in that period, it was so necessary.

In fact being a bishop, one of the things I miss is being too far away from the cathedral. I genuinely love every type of worship from the informal to the very formal, so long as Jesus is the focus.

What’s more important than the question, “What is your tradition?” is, “Are you focussed on those who don’t yet know the love, the grace, the forgiveness, the hope in Jesus?” The reality is, the vast majority of people in our nation will go to bed tonight, without knowing the things that we, as Christians, just take for granted.

It’s easy to say “Well, why don’t they just come in?” They don’t come in because they don’t actually know that we’re here, that it’s relevant. So in that great missional charge that all clergy get when they are plumbed-in to a parish, is to proclaim afresh in every generation the faith that we have received.

And it doesn’t matter whether you’re catholic or liberal or evangelical. Whichever badge you want to stick on, because that’s the key question.

Amen! I couldn’t agree more. Sense and wisdom like that is why Mark is a Bishop. Part of the trick to good interview is to know what questions to ask. They have to allow the interviewee the space to give answers like this. I feel like I’m on a roll, so hit him with another.

Have you always wanted to wear purple and funny hats? No I’ve always not wanted to wear purple and funny hats.

My interview technique needs a little work I think. I remark on how nice the tea is while thinking of something more mature to ask.

Could you tell me what you’re making of your first few months as a bishop? For me this is all about obedience. So if God had called me to be the cleaner of the church toilets, I genuinely hope I’d do that with as much grace and joy as I do being a bishop.

Obviously it’s a huge privilege being a bishop and I’m delighted to do it. But it’s got to be about obedience to a call. I actually don’t think the bishops are the most important people in the church. It’s those who are out doing day jobs or bringing up kids. We all have a unique calling and there is no hierarchy in terms of actual importance.

Of course the church can seem to be structured hierarchically, but the mission of God is the key thing, and therefore the people who are doing the mission of God are the key people, and that’s all of us. The reality is as a bishop, you spend most of your time with folk who are already Christians, so arguably we are the least important people in the church because we’re the furthest away from the mission field.

But do you think being a bishop opens up missional and evangelism opportunities because of the status? Yes absolutely and that for me is a great privilege and joy. It’s what gets me out of bed on a morning.

Are you invited to events that people would attend mainly because they know the bishop’s going to be there? Certainly. And the bishop can say things that other people can’t. One of the really fascinating things about going to a church is, you’ll stand up and say something and people will listen to it, take notice and try to do something about it.

And the vicar will say to you, “It’s really great you saying that. I’ve tried saying that and nobody listens!” and that’s right, you’re a different person with a different voice and different role and people listen.

What was it like when you got the call to be a bishop? It’s a very strange thing.  Obviously a huge privilege and a huge delight. It was hard to leave Cranmer because that’s a rich and wonderful community. I was there for 5 years. My concern was, and is always, am I doing this or that particular thing out of obedience to Christ?

I would often say to the students at Cranmer Hall, when we are praying, there are four key words we need to say to God out of our obedience: ‘anyone, anywhere, anything, and anytime’.

And I really don’t care whether God calls you to the most prestigious place in the world to be with the nicest people you could possibly imagine with all the resources you need, or whether God calls you to be in the back streets and worst place you could imagine. Your task is to be obedient to Christ because Christ is building his church. Our task is to be obedient.

When I was a kid at Sunday school, a hymn that stuck with me that had a catchy tune and goes “trust and obey for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.” It’s a simple children’s song but actually there’s such wisdom in it. The truth is, if we trust Jesus with what we’ve got, fruit comes from that which, actually isn’t surprising as He’s the one who made it to start with.

And obedience isn’t tradition-dependant. It’s not ordination-dependant. It’s for all of us. It doesn’t matter whether somebody became a Christian 10 minutes ago or they’ve been a Christian for 100 years. It doesn’t matter whether they’re the Archbishop of Canterbury, or they’re the person who turns the tea urn on in the morning.

We’re all called to that common task of reaching out to the least, the lowest and the lost. Those who can’t begin to imagine that God could love them. That’s why we’re here.

Who’s your favourite disciple and why? I think you’re the very first person to ever ask me that question. I haven’t really thought about it. My initial reaction is Luke because at the beginning of his Gospel and at the beginning of Acts he basically says, “Others have written about this but I’ve made a really careful investigation so that you might know the truth”. It’s that sense of, “My heart’s already there, but I’m applying my brain because, if this is a fairy-tale I’m not interested. I want to dig down into the truth and now I’ve found the truth I want to share it”.

You’re stranded on a desert island. You get to take three Bible characters with you. Who do you choose? Can I have Jesus? Yes. Well it’s a toss-up between people who would be good for me, and people I’d actually like to spend time with! So maybe one of each. Very very long pause. I think probably Esther because she had that extraordinary balance between basically thinking she wasn’t up for the job and honouring God.

Like Esther, so often I think I can’t do this. Who am I to do this? And so Mordecai says no you are, you’ve been put in this place and this time for this task. So Esther and Jesus and then I’d probably want Paul. He’d be quite interesting. He travelled and had all those experiences. I don’t think I’d like Paul as a person much, but what I love about Paul is that he’s thought and wrestled with tough stuff. He’s not afraid to come out with the really hard stuff.

And finally Mark, when you’re not bishoping, do you have any hobbies? Well when I have time, I’m out riding blood bikes. Mark volunteers for a charity called Northumbria Blood Bikes, which delivers blood and urgent medical supplies, out of hours, between hospitals and healthcare sites and laboratories in North East England. It’s a pretty cool thing for a bishop (or anyone) to do.

There can’t be many bishops who can put this on their CV. No, I’m probably the only blood biking bishop. There are a couple of others who ride motorbikes, but I think I’m the only blood biker.

This seems like a suitable place to end. We can all sleep a little sounder, knowing that if ever we’re critically injured in hospital and it’s a bank holiday, somewhere in the north east, there’ll be a bishop on a motorbike, cassock and mitre flailing in the wind, making his way to our bedside. Or something like that.