St Martins-in-the-Field, London

In the previous post,  A Vocation Journey: meeting Br John-Francis I recalled how I had made contact with Br John-Francis, one of the members of the Society of St Francis’ vocations team. Br John-Francis had invited me to attend a Vocations Day held at St Martins-in-the-Field.

Despite  feelings of ambivalence there was stronger feeling of wanting to know more about Francis and these Franciscans I had begun to learn about. So, on the Saturday morning I headed off to St Martins to join with others who were inquiring about vocations to Franciscan religious life in the Anglican and Catholic Church - the day was jointly hosted by members of both Franciscan communities.

When I arrived I met John-Francis and the other members of the Anglican and Catholic vocations teams. We began, of course, with some time of prayer. Then the brothers and sisters shared with us stories about St Francis and their lives as Franciscans.

As I listened to them share their stories and watched a video about St Francis a particular image jogged my memory. I saw the image of a man with birds surrounding him and my mind immediately went back to my visit to the Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona, AZ that my friend Wendy had taken me to. Suddenly shivers went up and down my spine. It was a very eerie feeling. Not long ago I didn’t really know about St Francis or Franciscans and suddenly with a few months I had meet St Francis one two occassions; once in Sedona and now in London.

Figurine of St Francis of Assisi, Sedona, AZ.

During the day we had opportunity to spend some time looking through St Martins. I discovered a bookshop in the lower part of the Church. They had a copy of Celebrating Common Prayer a version of the Society of St Francis’ Office Book. I had come from a Church background which did not use prayer books so I found navigating this one somewhat of a challenge. However, the directions and explanations of the various Offices in the book gave me enough information to be able to learn to navigate and use the book.

At the end of the day we finished with a service of prayer for discernment of vocations. As we were leaving a remember talking to one of the ladies that had come to inquire about being a sister. I’m not sure what happened to her or any of the others, or whether any of them joined the communities they were inquiring into. Indeed as we parted I still was left with feelings of ambivalence; a theme I want to take up in the next post - A Vocation Journey: feelings of ambivalence.

Br John-Francis informed me that he would be coming to London and that he would be happy to drop by and talk to me more about Francis and the Society of St Francis. We made a time and date to meet up. A few days passed between the intial contact with Br John-Francis and the time we were to meet. By this time I developed a severe case of cold feet syndrome. The right thing to do would have been to re contact Br John-Francis and put off the meeting. Instead I did the not so right thing. I went off to the movies so that I would not be home when he arrived. Talk about taking the coward’s way out. Though I guess you make wrong decisions sometimes.

When I got back from the movies I discovered that Br John-Francis had not got the same case of cold feet that I got and had indeed kept our appointment time. He left a few booklets on the life of St Francis and the Society of St Francis. I immediately picked them up off the floor, lay down on my bed and began reading them. The more I read, the more my cold feet began to warm up again. I again contacted Br John-Francis (I didn’t tell him all that had transpired, that confession would take several years to come out) and said that if it were possible I still wanted to come to the Vocations Day they were holding in St Martins in the Fields.

He was very welcoming and said that it would be good to eventually met up and for me to come along to the Vocations Day as planned. The ensuing days were ones of hot and cold feet. But the material the brother had left always managed to turn the cold feet hot again. The more I read it over, the more the life of Francis and the Franciscan brothers seemed to resonate with something deep within me. It was a kind of knowing that this was the answer to questions you didn’t even know you were asking. A response to a long felt inner desire or longing. By the time the actual day to attend the Vocations Day I had managed to set aside the feelings that were producing the cold feet and rested more in the inner knowing that this is something I just had to do. To bite the bullet as they say. The day finally arrived and I was eager to attend the session as planned and also to finally meet the brother I had been in contact with.

I finally met Br John-Francis in person at the Vocations Day. He, and other brothers and sisters, welcomed myself and other aspiring young religious (well young in religious life perhaps). During the day it became obvious that previous events had been pointing me in this direction. Here was the opportunity to begin to make the connection of the way in which recent (indeed even distant) events had set the scene for my discovery of a call to religious life within the Society of St Francis. In the next post I will continue with how one particular connection began to change the direction of my life when I continue with A Vocation Journey: meeting St Francis for Again.

St Pauls Anglican Cathedral, London, UK

Are you under 40?
Want to serve those who are poor … to pray … and live in community …
Thought about Religious Life?

Why not try
Exlploring francsican life

In the previous post A Vocation Journey: meeting St Francis I wrote about how my dear friend Wendy had taken me to visit the Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona, AZ. I also wrote about how that place felt like a ‘place of presence’ and that I was particularly taken by a small figurine in the garden of a man holding birds in his hands.

As Wendy pointed out in a previous comment neither of us realized the magic that was occurring that day. It wasn’t until I continued my journey to the UK that the ‘next step in a journey of a thousand miles’ would reveal the next kairos moment in my vocation journey.

Prior to leaving Australia my friend Emma and I had become regular worshipers at a local community church. I even began to think about pursuing a vocation to the priesthood once again. I had actually had feelings about some form of ‘ministry’, perhaps as a missionary, since I was a teenager, however, circumstances often resulted in that not being realised. It was an indication that my feelings toward the church had undergone quite a healing process.

When I arrived in London I wanted to continue attending church and began looking around for some place to worship. I was living and working at the Great Ormond St Hospital for Children, not far from Central London. I looked around at a few places but I did not really ‘connect’ with anywhere. I had spent most of my childhood through to early adulthood in the Salvation Army but had moved on from the Army for various reasons, so I did not feel at home there. I stopped into a few non denominational ‘community’ or ‘local’ churches but did not really feel at home their either.

In-between my Salvo days and the community church I attended with my friend Emma I had tried out several mainstream and very on (or over) the edge christian, pagan and cult churches and religions. I think I was beginning to get onto that cycle again. Then I arrived at a place I felt I could connect with.

On a ‘Red Bus’ tour of London one day I stopped to visit St Paul’s Cathedral. Not wanting to pay to see a church I decided to attend one of the services, and then do the tourist thing afterward. The music and the liturgy of the worship really spoke to me in a way that other liturgies had not. The colours of vestments, the singing of the hymns and psalms, the Eucharistic prayers, all of this really got inside me. It had been a long time since I felt ‘at home’ in a church. From that day on St Paul’s was to be my regular (well as regular as one can on shift work) place of worship. I joined the Friends of St Paul’s which got me into the church for free outside of service times and I explored that place literally from top to bottom; from the crypt to the gallery, to the outside of the top of the Cathedral dome. I knew that place inside out.

I had been living in London for less than a year when another dear friend and ‘mother’ came to visit the UK. Indeed it was Julie who had been instrumental in my making the move to work in London. She loved England and had always wanted to visit it. I think some of her encouragement of my trip was part of her longing to see the UK as well. When I heard Julie, her daughter Mel, and some of their friends were coming to London I was stoked. I was missing home a little, but more than that I had the opportunity to show my friends around. I was really glad to see them, for if not for Julie’s constant persuasion I may never had actually made the move to go there.

We didn’t have a lot of time to show them around as they had made plans for a cook’s tour of some of the places Julie had always wanted to go to. While in London it was decided we would do the ‘Red Bus’ tour. I seem to recally not being all that excited about doing the bus tour … been there done that. However, off we went.

The bus did its usual route and we stopped off at St Paul’s. While inside the others were wandering around looking here and there looking at this great piece of church history. Meanwhile, not being overly keen on the idea of the bus trip in the first place I wandered around, almost aimlessly, while they took in the sight and atmosphere for the first time.

Exploring Franciscan Life: vocation pamphlet from St Pauls, London.

Over in the corner near the exit I saw a small unobtrusive table. On it was a pile of green pamphlets that attracted my attention; being a compulsive pamphlet collecter. I quickly viewed the cover noting the questions at the top of the paper:

Are you under 40?
Want to serve those who are poor … to pray … and live in community …
Thought about Religious Life?

Why not try

Exploring Franciscan Life

As I read those questions I could hear myself saying YES!. For some reason there was something about those questions that opened up something inside, it was like through them I had found an answer to a question that had played over and over in my mind throughout most of my life. It is a little hard to explain, however, it is one of those moments where for the briefest of seconds everything in life makes sense.

I was careful not to let the others see I had picked up the pamphlet. I looked around, no they were no where in sight. To be sure they didn’t see me I quickly put it in my pocket and kept wandering around.

Julie and Mel are two of the greatest influences in my life. They have been through great joys and sorrows with me. I don’t know why I didn’t want them to see the pamphlet, they have supported me in all decisions I have made in my life. Though they would not call themselves religious, they have never said a bad word against my beliefs.

I eventually found them and we got back into the bus to continue on the tour. I sat behind them. I wanted to read more of the pamplet I had picked up. Though I was still not keen on letting anyone know I had taken an interest in its contents. I surreptitiously read its contents.

Inside the Franciscan vocation pamphlet (click for larger view)

As I read about St Francis and learned of the life and work of the Anglican Franciscan sisters and brothers that kairos moment of clarity happened again. My curiosity was more than peaked now. I had to know more about who these Franciscans were and what were they all about.

The pamphlet was advertising a vocations day jointly run by Anglican and Roman Catholic Franciscans. A day to hear stories of vocation, find out about their life, have some Biblical reflection, share questions and answers, followed by lunch and an ecumenical liturgy in St Martins-in-the-Field church. I had to know more, there was a website, but how to slip away from the group. I made some feeble excuse and went off to the nearest internet cafe to look up the website of the Franciscan vocation team from Hilfield Friary, Dorset.

As I indicated earlier I knew little of religious communities. A far cry from Salvation Army life, and further still from some of the odd ‘religious’ groups I had encountered on my religious wanderings. I think my only concept of religious life was what I got from television, the only one of which had any real impact was The Nun’s Story, staring Audrey Hepburn as Sr Luke a Nun who is driven to serve the poor through caring for the sick in the Congo. I may have seen other movies, or had other ideas but none that really stuck with me. Though I do recall being intrigued as to whether or not there were male Nuns doing the same. I think the impact of this movie was what fueled my interest in being a missionary when I was in the Salvos, that and the stories of missionaries who would come to our Corps.

I checked out the website of the vocations team and I was more than convinced that I wanted to attend that vocations day. I sent off an email straight away to make contact with a member of the vocations team.

In the next post I want to continue this vocation journey by recounting my first encounter with the Franciscans … A Vocation Journey: meeting Br John-Francis.

The Chapel of the Holy Cross: Sedona, AZ.

According to the ancient Chinese proverb, A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.

In a previous post, A Vocation Journey: the road to Damascus, I wrote of how my Christian journey had gone from one of faith, to no faith, to a re-discovered faith. I recalled how I was challenged to re-think my attitude toward Christianity. Indeed a kairos moment between myself and a colleague led to my returning to Church and being renewed in my faith in a way that would be yet unrecognised.

In this post I want to pick up from that kairos moment to another which would set in motion a series of seemingly unrelated events that would eventuate in my move to religious life in the Society of St Francis.

But as the ancient proverb states, a journey of thousand miles must begin with one step, so I don’t want to jump too far ahead but begin with what became the first step; however unknowingly.

I was working at the Westmead Children’s Hospital as an operating room nurse. One evening I had a call from my flat mate. We had been robbed, our flat had been cleaned out, even opened bottles of expensive colognes were not exempt from the ‘liberation’ of our belongings. It was not a good time, not only had I lost all my belongings but I was in the final stages of editing my honours thesis for submission.

At that same time I received, from what seemed out of the blue, a card from my uncle in Aotearoa, New Zealand, wondering when and if I might come and visit some time. As well I had often looked into working overseas but always managed to find a reason not too; to many possessions, what would I do with this, too busy studying, what about my thesis. I managed to concoct several reasons to stay set in my ways. My flat mate and I also had a major falling out over the events and had decided to move out.

I talked to a dear friend of mine, who was mother figure and friend in my life, about all that had happened. She said, “why not move out of your flat, leave your things with me, go and see your uncle and then come back and see where things go from there; you can use your bond money to do it”. It sounded like a good plan to me. Fortunately my thesis supervisor had working copies of my thesis and I was able to get it in without too much delay; even managing to get a 2nd class div 1 hons.

I moved out of my flat and funded a trip to see my uncle out of the bond money. I had a long talk with my uncle, the world traveler, who advised me to get out and see the world and life would look differently.

After I got back from Aotearoa something was afoot. I had received a letter from an international nursing recruting agency wondering whether or not I would like to work in the UK. Hearing from recruiters was not uncommon; as I said I had made lots of enquiries over the years. What was perplexing, however, was how the letter ended up at my friend’s place where I was temporarily living. When I moved from the old place I had told no one where I was going, not even the post office for mail forwarding.

At this point a few friends I worked with from the hospital were also considering going to work in the UK. We were looking at different hospitals but ended up deciding to work at the one place; the Great Ormond St Hospital for Sick Children in London.

I decided to leave earlier than the others and go and visit a few places I’d always wanted to go to, and to see people I had not seen in a long time or even met before. I planned to visit NZ, Hawaii (one of my uncle’s favourite places), Anaheim CA (old childhood Disneyland fantasy) and most importantly Flagstaff, AZ.

During the writing of my thesis I had contact with a lady in AZ who had researched a similar topic and we had developed quite a friendship over email correspondence. Wendy had become a great friend, even though we had never met, she had been a great support to me during the writing of my thesis. As I was passing through the US I could not wait to see if we could meet up, which we did.

I had a great few days with Wendy among the many touristy kind of things we did, the Grand Canyon of course, she also took my to Sedona. What a wonderful place. Wendy particularly wanted to show me the Chapel of the Holy Cross. It is a simple chapel built into the red rocks of Sedona. I love that colour red, it reminds me very much of the lovely ochre red of outback Australia.

Figurine of St Francis of Assisi, Chapel of the Holy Cross Sedona, AZ.

As I wandered around the Chapel I was taken in by its amazing presence, not just physically, but in a greater more spiritual kind of way. It felt like a ‘place of presence’. What struck me particularly was a small unassuming figurine of a man holding up two birds in his hands.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. Being raised in the Salvation Army I didn’t know much about Saints. I may have heard something of St Francis. I don’t quite remember. However, there was something about that figurine that seemed to say quite a lot to me. It is a shame that at the time I didn’t realise the full connection between this simple figurine and the rest of my life; for it was at this kairos moment that I first met St Francis of Assisi.

We left the red rocks of Sedona and I continued my journey onto the UK, having been thankful for the opportunity to meet an exceptional woman and dear friend. In the next ‘episode’ I continue with the way in which I kept ‘meeting’ St Francis and how my calling to a Franciscan life was beginning to reveal itself.

A close up of the figurine of St Francis of Assisi: Chapel of the Holy Cross, Sedona, AZ.

The Conversion of St Paul

This year has been one of discovering and re-discovering vocation. I’ve never been one for maintaining a journal, often attempts to do so end in many uncompleted pages in mostly empty books. However, in a year of discovering and re-discovering vocation one can see in hindsight how such a practice has great value; being able to look back at the moments of insight that shaped the direction one’s life took.

Although I cannot capture again, in the same way, those signficant moments that have brought me to where I am today I have decided to at least try and recall those moments which have become a significant part of my ‘vocation journey’.

In my room hangs this icon of the Conversion of St Paul. It is a constant reminder of my own ‘road to Damascus’ experience. I think it fitting to begin this retrospective ‘vocation journey’ reflection looking at how the Conversion of Saul of Tarsus reminds me of elements of my own ‘conversion’ experience.

Saul of Tarsus was considered a very learned and devout Jew. He was also notorious for his persistent persecution of Christians. Armed with a letter from the High Priest to Saul set out to Damascus to continue his persecution of Christians in Syria. However, Saul was confronted on the road to Damascus by a voice saying “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”. The voice led Saul to Ananias who who placed his hands on Saul and Saul was filled with the Holy Spirit. The Lord said to Ananias that Saul was to be an instrument of God’s word. Paul, as he came to be known became was converted to Christianity and indeed became a significant messenger of God’s word and was martyred for his faith.

I relate to Paul’s ‘road to Damascus’. I started attending Church at the age of 11. I became quite involved with many aspects of the Church. It was when I was about 13 that I first felt called to be a ‘minister’. Had I’ve known about religious orders then I would probably have joined one when I was old enough. Toward the end of my nursing degree I was preparing to enter the Salvation Army Officer’s Training College and had intentions on becoming a missionary. However, I had a major falling out with the Church that led to my ‘persecution’ of the Church. For a number of years after that I had little time for the ‘established’ Churches and made every effort to slander them. What I had previoulsy been so ‘zealous’ for I ‘persecuted’.

One night while I was doing a night shift, in the wee hours of the morning, the tele-evangelists came on. I was listening to the usual routines of these over rated, self-styled, gurus and was making my usual condescending remarks about them when one of the nurses I worked with mentioned that one of her relatives was a minister (in the Baptist Church, I think). That stoppped me in my tracks.

We had a long discussion, how we had both had ‘run ins’ with the Church and felt that it had betrayed its calling to be a messenger of the Gospel in the world. Though we both had decided we were at a point where we wanted to explore going back to Church. Emma and I found a place we wanted to check out and were very happy.

I felt as though God was really present in that place. As I had come from the Salvation Army we did not practice Baptism. However, I felt very strongly that this was what I wanted to do. I arranged with the priest to be Baptised. It was the most amazing experience. As he laid his hands on me it was like something came into me, it was like I began to see the world in a very different way. A friend of mine had come to be with me and as I was driving him home I had to pull over and ask him to drive as I felt almost inebriated, like the world around me was one big video and I was watching it.

I felt as though my eyes and heart had been open again. I felt connected with God once again, it was like being reunited with a long lost friend. This moment began a series of events which would ultimately lead to my joining a religious community.

As I said, I identify in some ways with Paul’s conversion. A man who had deep faith yet could not see the truth of God in Jesus and began persecuting that which he ought to have been understanding and being a part of. However, on the road to Damascus, and at Ananias’ house Saul of Tarsus received a revelation of God’s truth in Jesus and his eyes and heart were opened and he became an instrument of God’s message in the world.

While not as dramatic as Saul’s conversion I feel I went from feeling as though I new and experienced the truth of God but set out to persecute the Church because I had not fully appreciated the reality of God. Then God sent someone to me who would see that I did indeed not only discover the truth of God but how I too could be an instrument of God in the world today.

Thus begins the Vocation Journey. In the next ‘episode’ I want to share how God began to reveal to me God’s plan for my life.

It is hard to know the general consensus of others going through formation but I suspect there are varying degrees of ‘Gesthemane’ experiences going on for people. There is a sense of becoming the body broken, a complete self emptying so that God can put us back together in the way God wants us to be.

A few weeks back I thought I had a solution to part of the problem I was going through and some things began to make a little sense. But it has not turned out to be so crystal clear as it was. That in part has really thrown me and I have really reached the place of asking is it better to let the cup pass or can I get to that sense of not by my will but yours.

I’m not sure how one gets to that place.

I was also reminded of a short anecdote told to me a friend when I was pondering over joining religious life in the first place. He told me the story of a person waiting to be saved from a flood by God; a row boat, speed boat, and helicopter later and the person was dead. In heaven the annoyed person asks why God did not save him. God says well I sent you a row boat, speed boat, and a helicopter what else did you want. In other words Andrew was telling me that we can spend so much time sitting around waiting for God’s telegram and not enough time reading the ones God has already sent. While in Assisi I went to the church looked after there by one of our brothers, Tom. During the service while reflecting on the Gospel a man recalled this story, I had to have a quiet laugh to myself.

I have often said it before, I don’t necessarily want to be brother or a priest, but I think it is what I am called to be. I look around at my friends who are in loving committed relationships, who have children, or who have others aspects of their lives that appeal to me. I think we are all called to a certain way of life, or better yet - vocation; whether this is married life, single life, professional life or whatever, there is something that is important for us to do.

The idea of being in a committed relationship is very romantic. Whilst it appeals to me, and at the late hours of the night I sometimes long for one I know that this will never be a reality. The feelings pass and I move on and in reality these thoughts only occupy a small amount of my thoughts and feelings. The idea of having a child too is also a romantic one. The thought of being a parent of a child, watching that child grow and develop and mature and take on their own life is appealing too. Watching my friends with their son, or hearing of the birth of my great nephew, or seeing students in their final year of school and talking with them about their plans for after school all stir a part of me that wonders what it would be like to parent a child. Though these feelings too pass and also in reality do not occupy my mind at length and I move on.

I hear of the struggles of my friends and family who do have these things. Particularly those who find trying to juggle relationships, families, jobs, study etc with their spiritual life. Then, if it were a revelation I don’t know, I realised I have a gift to offer them. As a brother I have the opportunity to spend perhaps more time reflecting on our journey with God. I have the opportunity to have more time to pray, to think about some of those spiritual struggles we all have, and I have the time to share the ‘juggle’ with others who do not have that luxury. Non attachment to relationships and possessions which are supposedly the hallmarks of religious life mean that I can be there for those whose lives are given over to other callings of family, professions etc.

As a priest I would be able to offer another set of gifts be way of sacramental ministry. It is clear I’m not called to a committed relationship or the life of a parent but I would be able to bring the gift of baptism, eucharist, reconciliation, marriage as well as the ministry of the word to those whose lives are called to an equally gifted vocation of single and committed relationships and professions.

As I said, this is very hard to articulate. I think what I am trying to say is that I can share the spiritual journey with others when that journey becomes too overwhelmed by relatiopnships and professions. I can share the ’spiritual parenting’ of young people who find it hard to share that journey with their parents. Perhaps what I can offer is to ’hold’ people through the pot holes of spiritual life - not because I have got that sorted myself (let me be the first to say I am far from it) but because it is the gift that God calls me to. Through the Grace of God my gift to others could be to just be, to lighten their load sometimes so that they can do what God calls them to do.

I’m not suggesting the answers to my questions have been answered but I at least feel as though I now have a direction to look for the answers in.

Most people who read this blog will be somewhat familiar with the story of how I came to learn about the Society of St Francis, the Anglican Franciscan Community. Well, this is St Paul’s Cathedral London, UK; where it all began. Part of my wanting to visit the UK was to re-visit some of that early sense of call to vocation within a Franciscan religious community.

Not long after moving to London for work I started attending services at St Paul’s Cathedral. Later in that year some friends from Australia visited me while on holidays in the UK. During the ‘Red Bus’ tour we stopped to visit St Paul’s. While they were wandering around I noticed a small table at the entrance which had some pamphalets on it; the front had a picture of a ‘monk’ on it, along with a series of questions asking the reader whether or not they had felt called to explore religious life. Not to be seen by my friends I quickly folded it and put it into my pocket, only taking it out to read it later when my friends could not see what I was reading. Shortly after I made quick tracks to an internet cafe where I could find out more about this religious community. The pamphalet was an invitation to explore Franciscan religious life.

I emailed the vocation director who said he would drop by to see me while in London. I of course got cold feet and went out to the movies that day. He did however come and left a number of brochures abour St Francis and the Society of St Francis. The more I read about the life of St Francis, and how he tried to live his life in imitation of Christ, the more I felt that God was indeed calling me to live my life as part of a Franciscan religious community. I attended the vocation day at St Martins-in-the-Fields Church. Although it was a little while later before I actually joined the Society of St Francis, my visit to St Paul’s that day was one of the defining moments of my sense of being called to Franciscan religious life.

It was good to re-visit St Paul’s today. As I was sitting in the Cathedral one of the Cathedral guides came to talk with me. It was nice to share with her how my visit to St Paul’s had been such an important part of my call to religious life. It is good to be able to recall these moments. There are times when we can be too caught up in the busyness and distractions of the world and forget that it is God who calls us to live our lives as people of God. Thus in re-visiting those significant moments in our lives, either by physical journeying, or remembering through sharing our stories, we can continue to re-affirm not only God’s call but our response to God’s call. This is particularly important for those many moments when worldly busyness and distractions tempt us to forget that it is God who calls us and it is us who respond. 

I found each of the exercises suprisingly challenging, but very rewarding. It was interesting to read over them when I had finished and was surprised at some of my thoughts. It will be even more interesting to read over them in a few weeks, years time. I found myself starting and stopping these reflections on several occasions - they just never seemed to end up looking like how I meant them too. In the end the pressure was on as the date to get them in was well passed and the powers that be needed them ASAP. So in the end I was pushed to make a decision and, well there they are. You are welcome to have a look and comment on them here or send me an email if you think it is particularly personal, or if you want to accuse me of being a heritic and burn me at the stake. In the end I went with what felt right to me and not what I think people want to hear. I particularly got a lot out of my Life Sketch, I’m sure the psychologist will have fun with that one for ages.

Oh, and just a side, I was given two large yummy crabs last night. The joys of being by the beach. I’m off to eat them now for dinner.