Of course, the whole reason (well, maybe not the whole one) that I have moved to this not-so-strange land is my work. When I got the opportunity to continue my ministry in a whole new area, I did realize that there would be many differences. Not so many that they couldn’t be learned, but that the curve might be a bit steep. For example, my title is still the same – Rector – although I am also an Incumbent at the Reddish Benefice. (Don’t worry, I had to look them up too. Quick Google search’ll do it.)
There are lots of different titles and different levels of roles in any institution. However, the UK has the US beat hands down. For example, a parish priest may be a curate, or an associate, or an associate curate. Which means they are responsible to a specific rector. I am Rector of St. Agnes, and associate curate (do NOT abbreviate that. Oh, you just did? I’ll wait until you stop giggling about being an ass cure) of St. Elisabeth’s and St. Mary’s. Traditionally, the associate curate (are you going to chuckle every time?!) of those 2 parishes are under the guidance of the rector of St. Agnes. So, in the grand scheme of things, it looks like I am both responsible for myself and responsible to myself.
Once again, I digress. The element of life that has been brought up a lot during the settling in has been the housing situation. In both elements of the church, housing is usually provided by the parish, as was the case in my first parish in NJ. The second place I served did not have housing, so they paid a portion of the rent on my apartment. Finally, with being responsible for three, the diocesan staff made arrangements for the associate curate to be in residence at the rectory, which I can only assume was with the permission of the rector. (This is so much fun.)
The question that keeps coming to mind is: how are the living situations different? Better or worse? Preferred or tolerated? Like so many other comparisons, there are good and bad in each. In my first spot, the house was big and just recently renovated. 4 bedrooms, 2 car garage, full basement. Which was designed for men with families. One of the previous residents had 4 or 5 kids. I had me, and my cat. Every week I spent a day off cleaning. I had to practically bribe the sexton to cut the lawn, even though it was part of church property and he had a riding mower. There were people who would come over and knock on the door “just to visit.” It was most concerning to me when I realized what a fishbowl I was in.
One day, I went out into the garage, took some gardening tools and went into the back, leaving the garage door open. Within 20 minutes I had 3 texts telling me the door was open, and then one of those people drove by to check if I was okay. But it provided lots of space for family to visit (even though I had to explain to the neighbor that the “cute young man” staying for the weekend was my nephew.)
Then when I was called to the second parish, I was told there was no rectory. I would have to find myself housing and they would give me funding to cover rent. It was nice to downsize, get rid of 10 years of accumulated stuff. The kitchen was too small to cook in and no more than 2 visitors at any time. Still, I was anonymous in the complex and didn’t run into anyone when I went to the grocery store in my pjs. My commute went from 30 seconds to 21 minutes, so again, plusses and minuses.
Sorry, wrong analogy.
It’s swings and roundabouts. (Look at me, talking like a native!)
My settling in period is coming to a close, and it’s been fun to get used to this new home. I guess it’s the perfect blend of the two previous situations. I’m in a rectory on church property, a house that is the same amount of rooms as my first one, but a much more manageable size. My office is in the front part, but there is a door that I can lock to separate personal from professional. It’s surrounded by the brick wall indicating it is a definite residence for the church, but not exposed to anyone to just “drop by.” I’ve even left the garage door open for hours and no one has panicked. I think I may be able to watch my horror movies and pro wrestling events without having anyone judge me on my viewing choices.
Although I do have to share one remaining final observation about the house. Apparently, during the time it was left empty (about 3 years) there was an incident of local kids getting riled up and breaking the windows of the house. Which isn’t too surprising. I bet it was a dare to see who would do it and who would chicken out. Remember, we were all kids once. At any rate, when the newbie was going to move in, a lot of people wanted me to feel safe and secure, so they were sure to put locks on all the windows (fine) and locks on all the external doors. I like to think that someone had a flashback to the old sitcom Open All Hours, when the owner would unlock a dozen locks to open the front door, much to the entertainment of the viewers. However, having 5 locks on each door brings a whole other set of concerns to my mind. If there was a fire, how would I possibly get out? Is there any added benefit, or once you hit 2 or 3 is it redundant? “Well, I tried to break in but after the fourth lock I gave up?” And how many keys am I supposed to recognize when they literally all look the same? It’s like security designed by committee.
If one morning I’m scheduled to be at a church and I don’t show up, don’t anyone panic. I’m probably just inside the front door, trying to get lock number 17 to open.
Stranger In A (Not So) Strange Land 