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Lessons from baking bread

I have been seriously baking bread for three or four years now. Other than the odd blip, we are pretty much self-sufficient. I have grown to love watching and kneading the dough - learning to feel when it is ready, rather than relying on a timer. I love the variety of things which can be made from the simplest of ingredients; flour, water, salt and yeast - bread and pizzas - and then slightly more complex variations; sourdough and breads based on enriched doughs, like these hot cross buns. I also realise there are some lessons from baking bread which apply equally to leading a church.

I love enriched doughs, especially for brioche loaves. When I first started the mess was awful - dough splattered up curtains and several early attempts ended up being scraped into the bin. The problem is that the initial dough is easy to knead (I don't have a stand mixer, so it is all by hand) but then you come to adding the butter. At first all seems well and the baker feels brimming with confidence, but then there is the dawning realisation that the butter has barely incorporated into the dough, and the kneading has merely resulted in the butter being pushed out the other end and smearing across the working surface. Patience is needed and the experience to know to trust the process. A different kneading strategy is helpful (slap and fold) which encourages gluten development without losing control of the sticky blob in front of you and the temptation to reduce the stickiness by adding a bit more flour needs to be resisted. Patience and confidence to look past the mess and see that the dough will come together are vital here.

Unlike using instant yeast, a sourdough loaf is very different. Although the actual hands-on time is the same, the time from start until taking the loaves out of the over is something like 20 hours including the overnight feed of the starter. (At some point it would be worth re-reading some of the Biblical references to leavened bread and yeast with sourdough rather than yeast powder in our minds). There is a balance required with the sourdough process; one the one hand it is important to leave sufficient time for the bulk fermentation, for example, to take place but on the other there also has to be the confidence to know when the dough is ready enough. When I want to bake sourdough I know that I need to get the starter going last thing on the night before. If I do that then I will be mixing the dough first thing the next morning, say 7am, and then there will be a couple of stretch and folds required over the next couple of hours. I know that I will shape the loaves and leave them to rest around lunchtime before placing them in the banneton baskets and then leaving them to prove with a view to baking around 4pm. Many external factors play a part here, not least the temperature in the kitchen. It can be frustrating to start the process and then have something come up which cuts across one of these key moments. A degree of experience-learned judgment is needed in order to know how to modify the timings on the hoof. In other words one needs to have got it wrong and worked out why frequently enough to be able to then know the right changes to make.

Dough needs both salt and yeast in order to give a flavoursome and well-risen loaf. Ironically, salt is detrimental to the efficacy of the yeast. In a normal yeasted loaf the salt and yeast would be measured and then placed at opposite sides of the mixing bowl, keeping them apart for as long as possible. When I make sourdough I hold back a tiny fraction of the water and add the salt to that, setting aside for half an hour whilst the more delicate sourdough starter can begin to work. It is also counter-intuitive that very dry flour seems to be able to resist the presence of the water. Time is needed for the flour to become fully hydrated, a process known as the autolyse. Therefore, care is needed. Not all the ingredients mix easily and some even need to be held back for a short time - even though their presence is vital for the final loaf.

It seems a bit strange to learn that it is important to let the gluten in the dough rest, especially after some work has been put in. A lot of loaves require a pre-shaping (getting the loaf in sort of the right shape) and then 20 minutes or so of resting before the work involved in finishing the shaping and creating the surface on the dough which will become the crust. If you only shape once then you can feel the resistance and the dough pulling back, especially when making a pizza base! In order to get a soft workable ball of dough which can be stretched out to carry all those beautiful toppings I leave my dough to rest for 2 hours. Sometimes it is as important to allow the changes brought about by shaping to rest and relax in order for the next stage to work best. 

Even after all the essential care has been taken there is still the moment of chaos as the loaves are placed into the hot oven. A visually satisfying loaf will have some oven spring and some crusty edges. In order to allow the chaos of the spring to take place but within some limits, it is crucial to score the loaf - a razor blade slicing into the top of the loaf to give some outlet for the expansion. The exact scoring is entirely personal, and can add to the beauty of the finished article, but the chaos has to be channeled slightly to let the energy out in some way.

This might sound complicated, but when it works a hand-made, home-baked loaf fresh from the oven is second to none. Likewise, bringing about change in church can be messy and chaotic, but there is no sight better!

I'd love to know if there are any other parts of baking that apply to church leadership that I could add.

Enough is enough...

I was chatting to a Kiwi early this morning and we briefly got onto the overnight breaking news about their PM, Jacinda Ardern. She is not as popular over there as she seems to come across from the view from here, apparently, but I want to give her a round of applause for her brave, yet vulnerable, admission that there is nothing left in the tank.

We have too many leaders who aspire to be "world king" (or similar), for whom the gaining and holding power feeds something insatiable within them, and so to have the public acknowledgement that, sometimes, the demands of leadership cannot be sustained forever is important. At the risk of getting too political we also need to acknowledge that those who do not display this honest vulnerability do not necessarily do a better job, in fact they may do a deal more long term damage, because keeping the grip on power is the most important metric for them. I'm not sure I trust Dominic Cummins any more than Boris Johnson, but according to a report in the Independent referring to the handling of COVID

‘Chaos isn’t that bad - it means people have to look to me to see who is in charge’ PM allegedly said

I rest my case.

End of year report card

Sadly (or maybe not), I don't get an end of year report to take home from where I am studying for my MA. However, as I have just passed the first anniversary of stepping back from full-time ministry, I want to try to make sense of these last 12 months.

The first thing that became obvious was the loss of a sense that people understood what I was doing. For all the misconceptions people may have, saying you are a Parish Priest conveys a meaning. I am just starting my first book post-final assignment hand in, and I came across this sentence

There are no easy routes to self-realisation; it begins, ironically, with self-abandonment.

I had carefully prepared my CV as I finished last December, and have used it as I have applied for PtO (Permission to Officiate is the somewhat nebulous term to indicate I have the Bishop's permission to minister and that I am up to date with things like safeguarding training and so forth). Having relinquished, I realised how ironic it was to be a bit piqued not to be given a range of plum little projects to work on which would have sounded so impressive as I explained them to people. Instead, as I seem to have found more than once, the path to fruitfulness usually begins by heading in the opposite direction. What's the point of relinquishing stuff if it doesn't stay relinquished?

I continue to preside and preach out in the sticks, trying to listen and discern the health of each as they work to appoint a new person in that Team, and I have become involved in the CAP centre locally. I have been very busy sorting out my Dad's estate after he died suddenly back in February, and I try to keep tabs on my Mum.

Studying has been a most unexpected blessing. There is the roller-coaster of emotion excitedly starting a new module, then the low points of realisation the vast amounts one doesn't understand, rounded off with the immense relief and sense of satisfaction actually handing something in. I have engaged with issues I would not have had any reason to go near had I not been doing this MA, and this has given me a lot of new insights to use in preaching.

As the photo shows, I continue my discipline of walking with my camera and have just started a plan for a substantial walk next year which is both exciting and a little daunting. I have so much to reflect on and am looking forward to more learning in the year to come.

...because we left the taps running for a hundred years...

I had this song in my head as we drove around some of the rural areas in northern Uganda 4 years ago and saw shreds of plastic in the roadside, in the rivers and in the bush. What have we done? And what are we allowing to continue to be done?

I don't have high hopes of COP27, sadly, although I am praying I am proved wrong!

As we trash the planet, look at the real damage being done to people by the current economic policies (e.g. the number of people in the UK without any significant savings to carry them through austerity) and hold on anxiously to observe the threadbare state of democracy in the USA I can only hark back (irreverently) to one of the key political watershed moments of my teenage years....

 

Worship in a time of mourning

I have been learning a lot in the last six months as I have served some of the local churches. In full-time ministry there was always a strong sense of connection between the responsibility of leading at the front on a Sunday, and being part of the life of the church family for the rest of the week. In my current role I lead services in a number of churches but play no part in their on-going life for the other six days. This has certainly made me realise the sense of absolute privilege of leading, particularly in a place where up until that moment I was an unknown quantity, and also for me the degree to which there is a deep and rich joy to be had in leading and preaching.

Tomorrow, I will be leading and preaching for the first time in a new place (for me) and also for the first time in this period of mourning for the Queen. For the last 24 hours I have been wrestling with how to set the right tone and catch the mood so as to lead appropriately. I do not feel that by tomorrow I will be anywhere near able to adequately reflect on the multiple elements in the emotional eddy and flow I, for one, am experiencing; the loss of someone whose dignity was a source of reassurance in troubled moments, the historic significance on the end of the longest serving British monarch and the steadying hand on the tiller of Government that she brought, and her regular witness to her Christian faith in her Christmas broadcasts. There is too much here for me to make sense of and encapsulate in meaningful words as we still try to process events and emotions. 

Six months ago I took my father's funeral. If you have ever had to speak in public on such an occasion then you will probably recognise the sense of turbulence of emotion and you will understand my relief at being able to say what needed to be said with the right amount of emotion (hopefully, enough for people to know that I meant what I said, but not so much that it became awkward or distracting for those in the congregation). I had been given sufficient time then to process and write (and edit and re-write) - a month, as I recall - and so the words I spoke publicly I can look back on and still regard them as saying what needed to be said. It is worth remembering that it is better to honestly acknowledge the incompleteness of the time for processing (and in doing so giving people the permission also to not have finished processing events for themselves) than it is to use words that are not yet sufficiently formed as to serve their intended purpose.

We will certainly incorporate some of the suggested prayers of thanksgiving and allow some silent space for reflection, and leading a church family in worship during a time of sadness is at least as important as at any other time. We will also pray for our new King, Charles III.

Immediacy vs the long view

It is now nine months since I left full time Parish ministry. I had to complete an official document recently and one of the questions caused me to stop and think - full time employed? no, part-time? no, unemployed? not really, student? hardly, so I ticked home-maker. 

For twenty years my life was marked by the need for immediacy; multiple deadlines and balancing several different diaries (home, church, schools and so forth). There is a lot to be said for that productive busy-ness brought on by competing demands. Eugene Peterson is right to warn us to the danger of being "the busy pastor". We should regard this, he says, like we might think of "the embezzling bank manager" - it is simply not right. I don't think he is saying we shouldn't have lots to do - the problem comes about when our busy-ness defines us and we find our egos being boosted by the lack of empty space in our calendars and how many people have come to depend on us in some way.

For nine months my life has not had such pressures. I have been ministering a couple of Sundays per month in local churches (and it has been a joy getting to know some of the smaller villages around and about). However, one senses one can easily be the cause of "a disturbance in the force", as it were, so there is much to be said for holding back a little. A few weeks ago I was in a Church getting ready to lead and so I checked with those setting up what "the norm" was. There was a helpful list of things, one of which was the they say the Gloria. I announced at the start that I was going to lead the service as closely as I possibly could to how I understood they did it most weeks, no boat rocking from me, but when we got to that point and I announced that we stand to say the Gloria, an older lady on the front row in a wonderful stage whisper asked, "Why aren't we singing it?". I smiled some days later when I came across a paragraph in the Rule of St Benedict concerning allowing members of the clergy in to join the monastery. 'If an ordained priest asks to be received into the monastery, do not agree too quickly'. Wise words indeed.

I have just handed in my second MA assignment. I picked up the first book to prepare for this in the middle of April, and so I have spent four and a half months concentrating on one or two questions concerning the life and death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I have been excited and then baffled, been exhilarated by new insights and left despondent by realising how little I knew (more than once) and then wrestled with getting all that into the word limit. This feels a very different learning experience than the couple of times per annum CMD days offered by the Diocese. Certainly, this concentrated learning is having a far greater impact on my preaching output and reflection than the innumerable training days I have had, but which now have all blurred into one.

I have a week to pause and let my brain run free before the pre-reading on my next module, and so I am reading about tides and rock pools and enjoying the long view.

Fruitfulness

Six months ago to the day, on a dark December afternoon, we marked the end of my time in north Bristol with a tea party. I was glad of the chance to celebrate together, especially after the confinement of lockdown, and was touched by the lengths folks had gone to - organising the tea and inviting some special guests. We had asked for some plants to go in containers on our patio; an acer and a fig. Being the coldest and darkest time of the year, and as a result of the recent poor weather, both these plants were bare of foliage. Obvious jokes were made about fig trees being barren.

Six months later and a lot has changed. We are excited to see fruit on the fig and elsewhere in the garden! But this has got me thinking about fruitfulness, not just for fig trees but also in ministry.

There is always sadness looking back - the mistakes made, but more so those moments when people weren't able to make the step needed to receive a healing etc, and things were left unresolved. Ministry is also hard and there were many occasions when I had to echo the words of Habbakuk 3

¹⁷ Though the fig tree does not blossom,
    and no fruit is on the vines;
though the produce of the olive fails
    and the fields yield no food;
though the flock is cut off from the fold
    and there is no herd in the stalls,
¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
    I will exult in the God of my salvation.
¹⁹ God, the Lord, is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    and makes me tread upon the heights.

So there is the first piece of fruit - learning to allow the failures and frustrations to drive you into the arms of God rather than into cynicism or self-pity.

For a variety of reasons I have found myself twice in the last month driving through some of my old haunts and just as it was fun driving the familiar streets (and knowing the short cuts and parking places), so too it was good to be able to offset some of the memories of hard times with happier ones combined with a sense of compassion for people that stands the test of time - to be able to pray for them as you pass their house. So that (for me at least) is the second piece of fruit - that sense of being opened up by effort spent caring for others. I was struck by something I had read by Dietrich Bonhoeffer that

Jesus' 'being-for-others' is the experience of transcendence. Only through this liberation from self, through this 'being-for-others' unto death, does omnipotence, omniscience and omnipresence come into being. Faith is participating in the being of Jesus...Our relationship to God is...a new life in being 'there-for-others', through participation in the being of Jesus. Transcendence is not the infinite, unattainable tasks, but the neighbours within reach in any given situation. God in human form.

which is an important counter to the idea that transcendence is about me, now, my experience and feelings.

The fruit in this present time is different; space to read, study, explore and learn is invaluable and the luxury of being able to see what turns up - to enjoy the invites and chance encounters.

I look at the figs growing on the fig tree most days and marvel at the miracle of fruitfulness taking place so shortly after the barrenness of the winter months.

Moving on - 2021 edition.

Last Sunday was my last one as the Priest in Charge of the Parish of Patchway. It was both moving and humbling to have people speak about how my ministry here had impacted them. I was fortunate to be able to have Extended Ministerial Development Leave earlier in the year to try to wrestle with a sense of call on to somewhere new. I realise that in all my thinking and reading I only really scratched the surface of trying to process and understand all I had learnt here.

For the first time in almost twenty years I did not have that urgent sense of call to one specific place, usually in response to seeing an advert for a job on a website or in the Church Times. I looked and looked, but nothing jumped out at me. However, I also had the strong sense that it was time to move on.

This reminds me more of the lead up to moving to go to Theological College - a call to be somewhere and do something which was a means to a further end, rather than the end itself. Whilst that feels less certain, it also allows a significant sense of freedom. There is an offset in that in Clergy circles there are only a limited number of categories; full-time, self-supporting, house for duty or retired and I don't really fit into any of those at present. Hence the need to explain myself in a longer post than would normally accompany an announcement of a new post.

I am already enrolled to start an MA in Christian Spirituality at Sarum College, beginning in January. I spent many hours at conferences and teaching days at Sarum back in the day, so that feels like a return to known territory standing, as it does, across the Close from the Cathedral where I was ordained. I am intending to take my time with the MA and make the most of the gift of learning. Plans may change, but my current trajectory would be to focus on issues around well-being and what I learnt on my EMDL around a rule of life; something which touches back into the riches of the monastic traditions but also has a vibrant footing in contemporary ideas as well, not least what I have been learning from the Emotionally Healthy Leaders' podcast.

I will be ministering locally. I have not yet had a proper conversation with my new Bishop to determine if he has any thoughts or whether it is just to work locally to where we live. There is an important strand in Anglican orders about being rooted in a place and being authorised to serve - all wise practices for accountability and having good boundaries.

It is also important for us to be nearer family. Compared to many I know, we have come through lockdown relatively unscathed, but being distant from our closest family has been tough despite regular video calls.

Looking further ahead I am happy to see what comes along. I know that the mentoring work I began here with fellow Clergy, Ordinands and Curates was fruitful (for me and, I gather, from them) and so that is something I would want to develop if the opportunity arises. It also feels right to explore how we might share the gift we have in the farm and woodlands where we will be living with those for whom a couple of days away might be a blessing.

If you have been a part of the journey and learning that has got me where I am today then I can only thank you.

EMDL day 63. A slightly longer update...

Seven weeks into my Extended Ministerial Development Leave and a chance to pause and take stock.

Lockdowns and uncertainties about being able to make plans meant that I started this period with only a vague idea of the route I would be taking. Ireland and the Silk Road will have to wait for a little longer. For six weeks I enjoyed an almost monastic existence; sleeping, walking, reading and working on ideas for a couple of photography projects. Limited access to the internet proved to be a real joy and often my daily tweet with a photo was as far as it got.

I have read a lot; a couple of books that I bought intentionally, one or two found through other recommendations, but most were those ones which had been on the shelves for a long time and needed to be read. I am still going strong! I am currently in a history of the Medici family but have explored areas around rest, shame, stress, discipleship, the influence of Christian thought on Western culture and Monet's painting of water lilies.

Slightly unfair, perhaps, but the top three to date...

1. Mad enchantment: Claude Monet and the painting of the water lilies
2. The ruthless elimination of hurry
3. The body keeps the score (with bonus points for having a Matisse on the cover)

I have delved into the world of podcasts and find a daily update from the Spectator magazine gives me a deeper grasp of politics and really enjoy The Rest Is History amongst others. I have found a real depth of wisdom in the writing and podcasts of Pete Scazzero.

I have posted a couple of photos of my visits to the White Horses of Wiltshire and Ash trees in varying degrees of health as Ash die-back spreads. Sadly, I have missed some of them already - felled in the time it took me to go and grab my camera gear. I have found the slow, meditative process of building a collection of images a hugely satisfying and rewarding experience, even when the kit has been carried in the rain and the camera never even got out of the bag!

 

Enjoy your holiday...

...has been said more than once.

On the 30th May I am taking three months Extended Ministerial Development Leave, what used to be known as a sabbatical. I had hoped to take this last year, but COVID struck as I was down to single digit number of weeks before I was away, and that didn't seem the right time to be away from Church Family even with two Curates around. I'm glad I stayed here then. I had been getting myself ready for a trip along part of the Silk Road and had been stimulated by reading about the history of the region, the interface of different religions and the recent political changes brought about by the break up of the Soviet Union. Sixteen months on, travels are not a possible option and, if I'm honest, I don't have the capacity to be refreshed by such an undertaking.

So what then? I feel quite strongly that it is important (for a change) not to have a plan, but I do have some aims.

I aim to catch up on time with family and friends. Coming out of lockdown seems to be a great reason to get in touch with people we have not seen for too long.

I aim to retreat; to take a step back from the day to day and to release myself from responsibilities for a period. This is not about "me" time. Rather, it is important to reflect on and process all that has happened in these last months - probably the most significant event in our recent history in terms of its impact on everyone and their daily lives. This has thrown up challenges to how we understand Church and there is much to learn. I am glad of the chance to be able to step back and do that.

I aim to become a pilgrim, even if I am unable to journey a significant distance. I love the idea of pilgrimage, but baulk a little at our contemporary air-conditioned version with posh hotels and coach transfers. I love the idea that centuries ago, people would go on pilgrimages and never come back. My journey will not cover many miles, but I would like to recapture the simplicity of a life on the road.

I aim to spend time in recreation. We have adapted the meaning of that word to become about hobbies and pastimes, but I intend to allow myself to be re-created. Much of working in these last months has been a responsive act - coming to terms with new ways of ministering and learning the skills necessary to do that. Being responsive is good, but being intentional is also important. I think part of my re-creation needs to be in establishing a more rigorous rule of life to include things which have been pushed aside in the breakneck rush of the last season; to drink deep from Scripture and prayer, to engage intensely and gratefully with nature using my cameras, to learn a new skill or two, to read things I as yet don't even know have been written and to go about that slowly.

My current pile of books, or at least a chunk of that pile. Some read, some bought but not yet read, others part read, put back on the shelf and now to be finished.

My work email will be switched off and the work phone left to ring unanswered and without guilt. I will lie low on Facebook in particular. I feel that the need to be online and responding to interactions has wired my brain for FOMO and as a result I need a good, healthy detox.

I will write, but in a journal rather than online. I hope to have some things to then upload here and some photos to add to my photo website too, but those are secondary.

This time is about input, not output.