XXVI - "Representing"
I wrote in the previous piece on the intermediary role of the priest. A priest is always, as the kids say, “representin’”. The absurd difficulty of this is most obvious in worship – the priest is facing East and West – representing the people to God, in all their diversity, and more incredulously representing Christ to the people. You will be relieved to know that since the Donatist scandal of 312AD (as a priest I claim the right to continue using AD) priests are not required to be perfect or even better than anyone else. We take on this intermediary role by virtue of our calling and ordination. I’ve also written elsewhere on misunderstandings of what a priest is and how it’s one of those occupations where, unless you’re talking to another priest, you’re almost certainly dealing with someone who has a completely different idea as to what your role and work comprise of than you do, which can lead to all kinds of difficulty for which the young priest had better be prepared.
So earlier in our trip we stayed at a wonderful community initiative on the tip of India, begun by a priest who now lives in England. I’ve not met him yet but he’s a friend of a friend of mine with whom I trained and has remained involved with the charity. It was a deliberate step to stay there, get to know the set up and people involved, with the thought of building relationships, both personal and as a representative of our South London parish. It was a good experience and with Rhiannon’s use of social media we have slightly increased knowledge of their operation and achieved a few donations. Something we aim to build upon in some ways when we return. Priests don’t necessarily have an obviously useful skillset, but I was delighted to be asked to bless and open their new community kitchen and with a compliant singer in toe, we were hopefully able to add to the occasion. Lovely. Something I had also been prepared for, if it came up, was to preach at the church – or otherwise turn up and smile. It’s tricky as of course a lot of people don’t speak English – so I’d need a translator – and of course people may not want me to preach – there’s a certain awkwardness in a perception of an Englishman returning to India to tell them how to behave. So I’d adopted a que sera sera mentality. Glad to be of service and build relationships; relieved to be a happy-go-lucky visitor.
I can’t really quite remember how things happened. But after assuming, not having been asked, that I was not required in a formal capacity at Sunday worship that Saturday evening I was told I would be involved. A little later the administrator came round and told me that I would be involved in the "ceremony". She invited me to read a text sent to her (I’m not sure by whom), which was written in Tamil except for the one word “sermon”. (It struck me then that despite the very different spelling the words ceremony and sermon are quite homophonic.) So I sat down to write a sermon at 9:30pm, although I had no readings, no theme, and only a very vague idea of the context, having been told we were being picked up at 7am to leave for the service. Sermons I was told are usually about 30 minutes, which gave me a bit of work to do, especially as I had no printer, so had to write it out by hand.
The next morning we set off, picked up a translator and then drove for about 40 minutes. This was a surprise as I had assumed we would be at the local church down the road. At that point several lines in the sermon required rewriting. We finally, after an unexpected stop for the translator to achieve breakfast, arrived to find a church literally half-built with half the congregation, which was 300-400 people, under the open sky. The priest showed me the day’s readings and a few more changes were made. The service followed a format akin to matins with the only really unusual feature being the inclusion of a fifteen-minute segment where the treasurer ran through a full run-down of the income and expenditure for the week (the priest told me it was a local practice). I guess if your fabric needs are as acute as worship on a building-site (fresh expression?!) it pays to have total transparency on your finances. I will never know how the translation process went (as I don’t speak Tamil). We had a good rapport (the translator and I) and he endeavoured to share the emotion I was trying to communicate. We were stood some distance apart however (I at pulpit, he at lectern) and it was clear from time to time he couldn’t completely hear me. We had particular trouble with the phrase “knocked it over” (the “it” is almost silent and the story I was telling depended on the phrase being used 3 times. I was later reprimanded by wife for rushing) so I’m pretty sure that story didn’t translate at all. I was reminded of the scene in the novel Covenant of Water where a preacher replacing Billy Graham gives a very personal testimony to win souls for Christ. The Malayalam translator in the novel finds it “a bit much” and so rather than following the story of his dissolute life before repentance and conversion, tells them they need to build a new hospital. It’s effective and produces a huge reaction, which also raises the funds for the hospital. For once in the book everyone seems to walk away satisfied, but at a certain liberty of translation. The Lord moves in mysterious ways.
Anyway, should you ever find yourself working with a translator I learned the following lessons: 1. Always stand near your translator. 2. Keep your sentences simple and above all short – it’s painful when you realise you’ve gone on too long and he’s forgotten what you started with. If you can get a rhythm with 3 second sentences it flows much better. 3. Get him a copy. I was a bit constrained and I couldn’t have written out the sermon again this time but it really would have helped. But overall it was a good and happy experience. And the real leasson was the lesson all priests come to know, which is by chance also the motto of the parachute regiment: Utrinque Paratus – (Be) always ready. And ready for anything.
Which brings us to our key-sabbatical moment! One of the reasons why we chose India was our parish’s relationship with a sister-church on the outskirts of Chennai. It has certainly been dormant in my time and I think for some time before that, despite having been integral to the parish’s centenary celebration in 2012 where it determined that a significant part of its fundraising would be geared to helping this church create a new building for worship. This was achieved and the large plaque outside the church lists St Margaret’s, Putney first for its aid in helping with the building project, and has a small photograph of our church hanging inside.
Our arrival into Chennai had been inauspicious. The family were at low ebb coming to the end of this long sojourn with a great deal of tiredness and travel-fatigue. Last minute travel-changes meant we arrived later than planned but the church had booked us a hotel and met us there in our hotel room. This was slightly unpropitious as hotel rooms are usually cramped and awkward places to meet people and the family were ill disposed for hospitality having just arrived in another new and strange place. We met up later to procure a gift from the parish of 170 sarees for the women of the parish, which was managed in a relatively jolly fashion followed by a quick ice cream for the (im)patient boys.
The service the next day, however, was a glorious, almost overwhelming, demonstration of hospitality. On arrival in the village we passed two enormous welcome posters (perhaps 4m high, 6m wide), and were greeted by the church with drummers, musicians, dancers, fireworks (on the floor which was quite alarming), smoke jets being strewn around, huge heavy garlands placed on all of us and a great procession leading up to the church. We were shown the historic marks of our parish’s involvement and led up to the front to light the candles for the service. It was truly the most astonishing welcome I've ever experienced and there was a real sense of joy at welcoming the representative of St Margaret’s, their international friend. Having learned my lessons, the sermon was more straightforward here. It also helped knowing what the Gospel was and having a bit more sense of context. There was a momentary hiatus when the electricity cut out (utrinque paratus!). But actually with the air conditioning off it was easier to be heard and the general attitude towards amplification we’ve experienced in India (make it very loud!!) doesn’t always help hearing. The most moving part of the service for me was being invited to distribute communion. It gave me the opportunity to pray for every member of the congregation. I was also struck at the end of the distribution taking communion to the very infirm, how here are present those who in the UK would be in care homes and out of sight and community, which does not always do them a service. Then there were charming gifts for our family and Rhiannon gave out sarees to all the women. A presentation was made with a potted history of the church and we learned that a building project was half completed to make a bell tower to the church. This has been temporarily halted due to a lack of funds to which they hope our parish might contribute – a letter and document were handed over. There was an awkward moment during photographs with the document handing-over, where a presumptive comment was made that I had “accepted” the proposal! (Me thinking: "I really do have to take this to the PCC!") but I’m pretty sure they meant that I’d “received” the proposal, which is quite different. It was all very jolly then as we chatted and had lunch. Apollo made a determined effort to eat “all” the pineapple. Strangely rain began to hammer down, which reminded us that we hadn’t seen rain for 3 months, before we had to make our move but feeling very genuinely that the relationship had been restored and a new appreciation of the good will that exists between our very distant communities.
I began by speaking of the priest as intermediary. I suppose people often speak of this sort of experience by saying how “humbling” an event like this is. It really isn’t though. Everything was very personal and (as has been continually my experience in India) people were very interested in getting to know us as people and as a family. But this wasn’t laid on for us because of anything we’ve done or any special set of skills or experience that we have. We were there as representatives of St Margaret’s, Putney, a Christian community in England. They were showing their love and appreciation of what that community has done for and with them and for our united faith as communities of believers. They are proud of their community and wanted to share that with members of our community. It is wonderful and beautiful and impressive what communities can do in bringing people together and the joy they create in sharing and enjoying what they have. And there’s something very special when this happens across international borders between communities – something we as a family are privileged to bear witness to. And in what other sphere of life – apart from faith – could two very different communities come together to help one another and share in each others’ joy and sense of purpose? I was at a conference not too long ago which demonstrated ways in which after the Second World War churches played a huge role in rebuilding Europe and restoring relationships, especially through the ecumenical movement. Perhaps, one way in which the Church can refind its vocation is by establishing more international relationships between individual churches, especially in the most broken parts of our world. Solidarity between real people can mean an awful lot, and as the tremendous efforts of the church here in Kunnam demonstrates it builds bonds of charity, joy and peace, gifts of the Spirit. Something for us to reflect on as we return.
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