Readers may remember that around a year ago I went through one of my occasional periods of wondering more seriously whether or not I have a vocation to the priesthood, and came out of it feeling reasonably confident that any such vocation, if it did exist, was some way into the future, but that in the more immediate term I was being called towards two things. One of these was a deeper involvement in church music which has been developing well. The second was lay readership, which I intended to pursue after the wedding, once I had a bit more free time. In advance of this I emailed Fr Irena, the the Area Director for Training and Development, to ask whether my being in a same-sex marriage was likely to be an impediment. She got back to me saying that it wasn't clear, but that there were discussions going on and that she expected to have more clarity by June. Last Sunday she was at St John's to say Mass, as Mthr Alice was on holiday, so I spoke to her about it, and although there hasn't been a final decision made, she thought it looked pretty unlikely that the diocese would be willing to license me as a reader any time soon. (She made it very clear, I hasten to add, that she thought this was ridiculous and wrong.)
I'm pretty upset. It took a while to sink in - my immediate response was to think that I should be upset and angry, but not to actually feel those things. The following evening I had an encounter with some casual homophobia on the way to the train station, which just made me feel very tired in an "it never stops" sort of way, but then this morning it took me six hours from my alarm going off to having the wherewithal to leave the house and go in to work. (I think if I didn't have such flexible working conditions and actually needed to be in then I might have been able to force myself, but who knows; in any event I am in the fortunate position that such a late start won't actually have any consequences except me having to get the work done some other time.) It took me a little while to connect that to the news about readership, but I've definitely observed that being upset about something tends to hit me in the executive function before I start actually experiencing sadness, and as soon as that clicked the feelings welled up. I still don't seem to be experiencing any anger, but I am disappointed.
There are various things going on. Part of it is that knowing that I'm not permitted to pursue a priestly vocation makes it harder to discern whether or not I actually have one, because like many people I find that not being able to have something makes me want it more, and it's hard to tease that out from a genuine call. And not knowing is uncomfortable, in a way that knowing but being denied (whilst undoubtably having its own set of difficulties) wouldn't be. I was hopeful that becoming a reader would give me more information to use in that discernment process, and losing that tool is a setback.
Another part is that the call to this particular form of ministry has been growing stronger in the last few months. As well as being a role that I think would be good for me and my spiritual growth and development it's one to which I think I'd be well suited; in which my talents would be put to good use and allow me to give of myself and help to bring other people closer to God. As![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themidnightgirl wisely observed the other night, it's always disappointing to be told that decision-makers don't feel you'd be suitable for a role you think you'd be good at, but it's one thing for that to happen because their judgement of your abilities doesn't match your own; it's quite another and rather more galling, when it's based on something that should be irrelevant.
And then another part is just, well, rejection hurts. And rejection from someone beloved, to whom you have given a lot of yourself hurts particularly. (For the avoidance of doubt, I'm speaking of the church, not Christ. My faith that He accepts me and loves me just as I am is completely unshaken, and I'm fortunate to have that sureness.) I am generally in a position of considerable privilege, which I frequently allow to shield me from the amount of homophobia there still is in the world and in the church, which means that when I am forced to face it head on it comes as rather more of a surprise than it perhaps should. I know intellectually that the institution is riddled with it, but because I very rarely actually encounter it in my daily life, it's easier not to look at it. Slightly peculiarly, I'm actually somewhat glad of the encounter outside the tube station yesterday. There is a part of me that is asking why I want to be part of a church which treats me so poorly because of my sexuality, and the reminder that the secular world is hardly a utopia of acceptance makes that question easier to answer.
I'm not quite sure what I'm looking for in posting this, but I think I would appreciate engagement.
I'm pretty upset. It took a while to sink in - my immediate response was to think that I should be upset and angry, but not to actually feel those things. The following evening I had an encounter with some casual homophobia on the way to the train station, which just made me feel very tired in an "it never stops" sort of way, but then this morning it took me six hours from my alarm going off to having the wherewithal to leave the house and go in to work. (I think if I didn't have such flexible working conditions and actually needed to be in then I might have been able to force myself, but who knows; in any event I am in the fortunate position that such a late start won't actually have any consequences except me having to get the work done some other time.) It took me a little while to connect that to the news about readership, but I've definitely observed that being upset about something tends to hit me in the executive function before I start actually experiencing sadness, and as soon as that clicked the feelings welled up. I still don't seem to be experiencing any anger, but I am disappointed.
There are various things going on. Part of it is that knowing that I'm not permitted to pursue a priestly vocation makes it harder to discern whether or not I actually have one, because like many people I find that not being able to have something makes me want it more, and it's hard to tease that out from a genuine call. And not knowing is uncomfortable, in a way that knowing but being denied (whilst undoubtably having its own set of difficulties) wouldn't be. I was hopeful that becoming a reader would give me more information to use in that discernment process, and losing that tool is a setback.
Another part is that the call to this particular form of ministry has been growing stronger in the last few months. As well as being a role that I think would be good for me and my spiritual growth and development it's one to which I think I'd be well suited; in which my talents would be put to good use and allow me to give of myself and help to bring other people closer to God. As
themidnightgirl wisely observed the other night, it's always disappointing to be told that decision-makers don't feel you'd be suitable for a role you think you'd be good at, but it's one thing for that to happen because their judgement of your abilities doesn't match your own; it's quite another and rather more galling, when it's based on something that should be irrelevant.And then another part is just, well, rejection hurts. And rejection from someone beloved, to whom you have given a lot of yourself hurts particularly. (For the avoidance of doubt, I'm speaking of the church, not Christ. My faith that He accepts me and loves me just as I am is completely unshaken, and I'm fortunate to have that sureness.) I am generally in a position of considerable privilege, which I frequently allow to shield me from the amount of homophobia there still is in the world and in the church, which means that when I am forced to face it head on it comes as rather more of a surprise than it perhaps should. I know intellectually that the institution is riddled with it, but because I very rarely actually encounter it in my daily life, it's easier not to look at it. Slightly peculiarly, I'm actually somewhat glad of the encounter outside the tube station yesterday. There is a part of me that is asking why I want to be part of a church which treats me so poorly because of my sexuality, and the reminder that the secular world is hardly a utopia of acceptance makes that question easier to answer.
I'm not quite sure what I'm looking for in posting this, but I think I would appreciate engagement.
