Something About Birthing

An occupational hazard of the preacher is his tendency to turn the everyday things of life into homiletic examples. The latest victims? My five grown children.

As we get ready for the launching (soon, we pray!) of the Ordinariates on this side of the Atlantic, there’s a bit of dust-stirring, several ongoing kicks-from-the-devil, and a general messiness. The long Vatican summer seems longer than usual (even though it’s not). Dossiers have been sent in for consideration, resulting in lots of Anglican clergy hanging around mailboxes, hoping for a response today, or tomorrow at the latest.

As I view all this from the relative comfort of my already-Catholic parish, I feel an overwhelming desire to straighten it all out (not that I can). There’s something in me that wants to settle the dust, kick back at the devil, and organize the messiness. It probably stems from my “inordinate need for order,” or something. Whatever the cause, it brought my mind around to my children. More specifically, to the births of my children. What could that have to do with our present pre-Ordinariate situation, you ask? As with any preacher, give me some time and I’ll tell you.

I was present at the birth of each of my children. I went into the first one like a lamb to the slaughter, not knowing beforehand that I would be in the delivery room, and having no idea of what to expect. It was in St. Brenda’s Maternity Hospital, Clifton Park, Bristol, England. I was prepared to do the “Ricky Ricardo” routine of pacing around the waiting room, chain-smoking, and waiting for the door to open, with a nurse showing me a delightfully wrapped bundle of joy. That was not to be. When we arrived, with JoAnn in the midst of ever-increasing contractions, the midwife thrust some scrubs at me, told me to change, and to report for duty. Apparently, I was expected to help.

It wasn’t a pretty sight – near-miraculous, yes, but not pretty. No one needs the graphic details, but suffice it to say that I wasn’t expecting my sweet little daughter to enter the world with a bluish tint, and what appeared to me to be a misshapen head with forceps marks as added decoration. Her nose appeared to be pushed to one side. I couldn’t imagine what we had brought forth! But then…the first breath, bringing with it a healthy color to the skin. In almost no time, a precious round face and perfectly-shaped head. All the fingers and toes present and accounted for, and it became evident that we had produced a most beautiful little girl. I hardly need to say, after that experience, I was far better prepared for the next four births.

Could this be what we’re seeing now, with the birth of our Ordinariates in America and in Canada? I think we expected it to be all clean and tidy. Just one little push, and it would be delivered to us, all wrapped up in a pretty outfit and ready to show off to our friends and neighbors. Instead, like first-time parents, we’re getting a dose of reality. Birthing isn’t easy, but it sure is worth it!

Our Ordinariates will be born, make no mistake about it, so let’s not be put off by a bit of pain. We shouldn’t wonder that the whole thing is rather messy. It’s going to bear the effects of a difficult birth. But after the first breath, things will begin to come together. It will be ours – and like every one of our own new-born children, it will be very beautiful.

Related posts:

Waiting with PurposeReflections on "Becoming One"Keeping Doors OpenLittle By LittleSome Words to the Wise Fr. Christopher G. Phillips is the pastor of Our Lady of the Atonement Catholic Church in San Antonio, Texas, where he has served for the past twenty-eight years. He is the founding pastor of the first Anglican Use parish, erected in 1983 under the terms of the Pastoral Provision. Fr. Phillips was ordained as an Anglican for the Diocese of Bristol, England, in 1975. After serving as Curate for three years at St. Stephen Southmead, he returned to the United States and served in two Episcopal parishes in the Diocese of Rhode Island. In 1981 he left the Episcopal Church and moved with his family to Texas, where he was subsequently ordained as a Catholic priest in 1983. Fr. Phillips and his wife, JoAnn, have been married for forty years. They have five children, all grown and married, and two grandchildren.

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There's Something About Little Acorns

When I have a few spare minutes, I enjoy looking at various parish websites, and reading the histories of different parishes. I make it a point to read the background information for some of the large and famous Anglo-catholic parishes — those places renowned for their beautiful edifices, magnificent music, varied devotional life, and active parish apostolates. Of course, most of them are now on the downward slide, sad to say. Although it was always a struggle to maintain an advanced sense of Anglo-catholicism, today's Canterbury Communion Anglicanism makes it nearly impossible. But there are still remnants of it, holding on by fingernails alone, and the history of those places is fascinating.

Almost without exception, accounts of the beginnings of such parishes include something like, "Saint So-and-so Parish began by meeting in the home of Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so," or "The parish held services at first in the local school room." The majority of those parishes which rose to greatness began in the back rooms of general stores, or in Grange halls, or in the homes of some generous founding member. These histories usually go on to recount the story of constructing the first wooden frame building, and then having to break ground for a larger facility in a better location. The very first Anglican parish I served in Bristol, England started out in a temporary wooden structure which I think began its existence as some sort of army storage shed. After some years it moved uptown and upscale to a permanent church building. Similar stories make up the history of the subsequent two parishes in which I served. Of course, by the time I arrived in these places, they were settled into lovely churches and had stable numbers of people supporting the parish. It wasn't until my family and I arrived in San Antonio that we had the experience of starting "from scratch," in a series of borrowed or rented buildings, and having to unpack storage closets to set things up for Mass.

I mention this because I know so many of the parishes coming into the Ordinariates are in those very circumstances. Yes, a few already have lovely and permanent church buildings; however, most of our communities will not be in that situation. In fact, many who are reading this may feel like the Children of Israel right after their escape from Egypt, on the move and yearning for a permanent home. It was several years before our own parish was able to have its own place, with its own address, no longer having to give a long explanation of why someone else's name was on the sign in front of the place where we were meeting.

If you're part of an Ordinariate-bound group which finds itself in that situation, take comfort in the fact that it's not forever. Lots of us started that way, but our circumstances didn't stay that way. Find encouragement by reading the histories of many of the more famous parishes — whether Anglican or Catholic. You'll find pieces of your own history there. And remember, Jesus Himself was born in a borrowed stable.

Related posts:

St. Mary of the Angels Parish VotesTravel CompanionsAnglicanorum Coetibus Meeting at Holy Trinity ReadingGreetings from the Anglican Catholic Church of Canada SynodOn the One Hand – and on the Other Fr. Christopher G. Phillips is the pastor of Our Lady of the Atonement Catholic Church in San Antonio, Texas, where he has served for the past twenty-seven years. He is the founding pastor of the first Anglican Use parish, erected in 1983 under the terms of the Pastoral Provision. Fr. Phillips was ordained as an Anglican for the Diocese of Bristol, England, in 1975. After serving as Curate for three years at St. Stephen Southmead, he returned to the United States and served in two Episcopal parishes in the Diocese of Rhode Island. In 1981 he left the Episcopal Church and moved with his family to Texas, where he was subsequently ordained as a Catholic priest in 1983. Fr. Phillips and his wife, JoAnn, have been married for forty years. They have five children, all grown and married, and two grandchildren.

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