045 - Chapter 45

(Illustration: Where were you, when you heard Princess Diana had died?)

After the vote not to accept me as a priest at St. Luke’s, it obviously hit me hard. I couldn’t face school or school work at first. I just sat stunned, read my Bible, wrote songs, and I prayed. Well-known songs at the time such as ‘Time to say goodbye’ and ‘The Prayer’ brought me some measure of  comfort.

‘Need to find a place, guide us with your grace, give us faith so we’ll be safe!’ sang Celine Dion.

I once wrote a song, which was later recorded for an album in 1992, which came to mean a lot to me at this time.

It came to be written originally because someone had said to me, “We should only forgive those who say sorry or who want to be forgiven!” I had replied, “No, Jesus forgave regardless of whether someone was sorry or not. When he was dying on the cross, he cried out, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do to me!”

Father Forgive Them

Angry faces round you, howling at you

Mocking crowds all jeering, 

as they pierce you through

Enemies are sneering and tormenting,

It was then I heard you whispering,

Chorus: "Father, forgive them, 

for they know not what they do to me"

Then I saw you looking at them,

with no return of malice in your eyes.

Totally rejected by your people,

Totally dejected as they call you names

Totally ignored they play their gambling games.

Chorus: "Father, forgive them, 

for they know not what they do to me"

Then I saw you looking at them,

with no return of malice in your eyes.

When I too am angry and the pain is there

When I feel rejection and a deep despair

I see your face before me, and I know you care

It is then I hear you whispering,

Chorus "Father, forgive them, 

for they know not what they do to me"

Then I see you looking at them… 

with no return of malice in your eyes.

Help me to have that same look in my eyes.

©1992 Sheila Hamil

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOw3GkTs4NQ...

Forgiveness. It’s so important; it blesses, it heals, it prevents us becoming bitter, and vengeful.

Eventually I went back to work. Bob suggested it would take my mind off it all, and I could focus on my pupils instead.

Priests who transfer to other parishes, move homes too, and their return to their previous parish is frowned upon. We, however, still lived in Wallsend, so I found myself in an awkward and unusual situation. No longer under license to minister to them, I still encountered members of St. Luke’s around and about. However, nothing had changed as far as our relationship was concerned. We talked easily to each other; I still loved them.

Audrey was one of the pillars of St Luke’s Church, a lady with strong beliefs. No-one ever messed with her. I was passing her house on my way to the shops, one morning. She must have seen me, because she hurried out of her house, and called me back to talk to her. We had always got on, and I respected the way in which she always spoke her mind, but I had no idea what she was wanting to say.

“Sheila,’ she said to me, “you know me, don’t you, and I was always open with you and honest about which way I would vote on the issue of women priests, and that’s how I voted!”

I reassured her, “Yes of course, Audrey, you told me that you were voting ‘no’ on both counts, and I completely respect that, and I don’t blame you at all, I understand!”

“Good,” she said, ‘but I want you to know this. I didn’t like the way it was done, and I didn’t like how you were treated!”

I was touched by her words.

I count myself blessed, later on, to have been one of the last people to see her in hospital, before she died.

People such as this lovely lady, demonstrate how beautiful it is when two people, who have different opinions on a divisive issue, can still have love and respect one another. This is how it should be all over the world, surely, but especially so in a Christian church?

Bob and I travelled to Prudhoe each Sunday to attend church from then on until Bishop Gill made arrangements for me to serve elsewhere. Reverends Dave and Audrey Elkington, were wonderful with us, as were the congregation.

As Bob and I sat in their church on Sunday August 31s, Audrey made a shocking announcement before the service even began. We had already heard the news, on our car radio while in the church car park before we went into church, and knew what she was going to say.

“For those of you who haven’t already heard, I have very sad news for you” she said. “Princess Diana was killed in a road accident in Paris early this morning!”

Everyone was so shocked.

Looking back, we often remember exactly where we were and what we were doing when tragic events of this nature occur in history, such as the assassination of JFK or Martin Luther King. Well now you know where we were when we heard of Princess Diana’s death. We were in a new church, getting ready to see what God had in store for us.

Eventually, I was told what was being considered about my future in the church.

The Bishop was inviting me to serve in Longbenton at the church of St Mary Magdalene, having already discussed this with the vicar there, John Sinclair. He was a crazy, fun loving, daredevil of a priest, (my words not the Bishop’s) but he was also the perfect antidote, the best medicine I could have been given at the time. John also welcomed five or six of our closest friends from St Luke’s to his church who were determined to worship wherever we ended up, and be there to support us.

His relaxed manner, his cheeky grin and, some may say, unorthodox style of ministry brought a smile back to our faces. His sermons were amusing and also inspiring and he was creative in delivering them. He just loved to shock people out of their complacency or indifference, and he was much loved for it.

I heard that when he first arrived in this parish, he had gone to the local working men’s club for a night out. Try not to think ‘member of the clergy’ here, but more ‘Odd Job from the James Bond film, Goldfinger’, only with shaven head, denim jeans and Dr Marten boots, who most likely looked as if he was a bouncer from a nightclub in the Bigg Market, Newcastle! There a group of locals were ‘weighing’ John up as he stood alone at the bar, trying to decide where they might have seen him before. Eventually ‘Big Mick’ was ‘volunteered’ to approach him and invite him over to join them, and so he did.

I would imagine that the conversation would have been lively and colourful to say the least all evening. Later one of them asked him, “Do you have a job John, or on are y’on the dole?” I don’t think any of them expected to hear what came next, and were rather gobsmacked when he told them:

“I’m the new vicar of St. Mary Magdalene’s church!” I would love to have seen their faces!

He won over hearts and minds in his parish; like the time he heard a shopkeeper bemoaning the fact that she hadn’t had a holiday break for ages. He stepped in and ran her shop for her, while she was away!

He had certainly been put in the right parish. He was also ‘streetwise’. I was standing at the church door with him, as we welcomed people into church one Sunday, and two policemen happened to go past in their car, and as one looked in our direction, I gave him a polite wave.

He rounded on me with a hiss, “You don’t wave to the fuzz here in Longbenton!”

He was joking of course! Or was he?

I remember once when he brought his motorbike into the church hall before a service, and I asked if he intended to wheel the bike into church as his next visual aid for a sermon.

He replied, “Wheeling it in? I’m riding it in!”

My eyes opened wide! ‘You’re doing what?’ I replied. What a stark contrast to worship, at my previous church!

During the service, just before his sermon, I watched John move towards the hall and open the side doors wide. He had a smirk on his face.

I thought to myself. “This congregation doesn’t know what it’s in for!”

Suddenly there was a loud sound of an engine revving up, and in he rode, jamming the breaks on near the centre of the aisle, next to the altar rail. The carpet tiles went flying!

But John then went on to speak to everyone there, about the need to go forward in life, and not look back all the time in the rear-view mirror. The light must guide our way, and sometimes we must put the brakes on, but the bike would get nowhere at all, without being filled with fuel.

Three local families at the back, who had come to have their children baptised, watched on in amazement. Some sported tattoos on their arms, some sat mouths open, their eyes were certainly not on their phones, they were too engrossed with what John was saying.

It all reminded me of Philippians. 3.13-14 which says:

‘Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.’

I was so in the place that I was meant to be for all that lay ahead of me. Creativity was what inspired me, and I realised I had lost sight of it.

Jesus used images all around him to drive a point home, and I quietly thanked God for placing me here, and restoring me through John.

Memories come back to me, even now, of his sermons, which were so unpredictable, and such great fun.

He brought over to me a big cream cake once in the middle of his sermon, and dropped it intentionally as he handed it to me. But I actually caught it, I’ve always had good reflexes, and was once a member of the Northumberland County netball B squad. I wasn’t supposed to catch the cake, and he snatched it back; and did the whole thing over again. . . properly. I let it fall this time! I think he was preaching that day on the messiness of sin, and the consequences that must surely follow in its wake.

I think also of Harvest, when a large artificial sunflower began to grow right up into the air, as if by magic. John had looped an invisible fishing line through a hook on the ceiling the night before, so he could pull the flower right up into the air the next morning.

I do believe if you go to this church, you may still be able to see that hook and a piece of fishing line hanging high in the air. What I’d still like to know is how he reached such heights to insert the hook in the first place?

We must always take care though, when using visual aids, as teachers and preachers, to make sure that those who look on remember not just the visual aid, but the lesson being taught.

There was never a dull moment with John, and I really looked forward to church each Sunday. He proved to be the making of me; a rescuer, a teacher, a straight talker and role model.

He encouraged me, and got behind my creative ideas to do with Easter and Christmas. He was quite marvellous, and slowly I began to heal.

Bishop Kenneth had always been supportive of women’s ministry. I well remember being at an ordination service at the Cathedral, a couple of weeks after I’d been moved on, when he was leading the procession out. As he came down the aisle, he reached the place where I was standing in the congregation. He stopped the entire procession! He reached out and placed his hand on my head and blessed me. It was as if he was saying, “Your time will come.” And now it had.

On the 28th June 1998, I was, at long last, ordained priest along with a good friend, Angela Maughan, at St Mary’s Willington Quay. I was delighted that Bishop Kenneth Gill was conducting the service, as he had been such a support to me.

I was thrilled that my first communion was to take place at St Mary Magdalene church, and that some members from St Luke’s attended to lend their support too. They presented me with a beautiful red chasuble bearing the white dove symbol of the Holy Spirit. I spent time greeting everyone before the service and making them feel welcome. This was a time for outreach, moving on, healing and a very warm welcome to those I’d sadly had to leave behind.

Some years later, when John had moved on to Newburn, we went into an interregnum at St Mary Magdalene, my second, and I enjoyed arranging rotas, leading worship and Lent courses, preaching and all the extra responsibility this incurred. 

A very talented lay reader called Kate was part of our team too. We had three elderly men who had served the church well as crucifers and servers, and in the wings waiting, were some very capable children, boys and girls. The time seemed right for a change and Bob took on the role of training them.

One talented young lad called Peter, who supported and assisted me in so many different ways then, was one of the servers, and years down the line, he became a priest himself. Mind you, his family were very faithful worshippers at church, particularly his grandmother Anne; one of the most loving Christians I’ve ever known.

It was then my daughter and her fiancé announced that they wanted their wedding to be held in our church in Longbenton, and they asked me to conduct their wedding.

What a day that was!

But first Bob and I had a memorable holiday in Ireland.