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Tag: ordination

  • The First Incumbency: A generation finding its way in a changing church

    by Revd Sarah Moss, Vicar of the Theydon Parishes

    As the Church of England begins a new quinquennium, clergy wellbeing is one of the important issues we will be considering, using the document GS 2366 which reports on implementation of the ‘Clergy Covenant’. It feels timely to reflect on what we are asking of those entering ministry, and how we support them not just to survive in their roles, but to flourish.

    GS 2466 includes, in its section on ‘Strengthen support at key transition points in ministry’, ‘Evidence highlights transitions, particularly into first incumbency, as periods of increased vulnerability’. And there is something rather unusual about being a first-time incumbent, particularly at this moment in the Church of England.

    I’ve been having conversations with other clergy who, like me, are in their first incumbencies and we’ve begun to recognise that we’ve come into ordained ministry through a particular set of circumstances. Many of us trained during the pandemic, and began our ministry against the backdrop of Living in Love and Faith and the divisions that have continued to shape the Church of England.

    I was an ordinand between 2020 and 2022, training through a residential theological college using a mixed-mode approach. Teaching moved entirely online: more than 25 hours of lectures each week, sitting in front of a screen, trying to build relationships with people we were only just getting to know. It wasn’t easy without those conversations over lunch or a cup of coffee that help you make sense of what you’re learning.

    Placements were also affected. There were fewer opportunities to spend time in worshipping communities and to experience the breadth of pastoral ministry. I particularly missed the opportunity to learn by being alongside people in difficult situations. That has left a gap in my pastoral experience which I have tried to address since, but still find challenging.

    We were training at a time when the Church was beginning to face some significant financial challenges. There was increasing pressure on dioceses to reduce costs, fewer stipendiary posts and fewer clergy available to fill the roles that remained. At the same time, there was a growing emphasis on parish ministry, with incumbents being asked to help churches become more sustainable, grow their congregations and develop new forms of mission.

    These are understandable priorities. The Church needs to respond to the reality of its changing circumstances. But I wonder whether we have fully considered what this means for those coming into ministry. We are training people for a Church where there may be fewer clergy, larger areas of responsibility and greater expectations around growth and mission. Are we equipping people for that reality? And are we giving enough attention to the leadership, organisational and practical skills that will be needed alongside theological and pastoral formation?

    We were also learning what it would mean to be priests in a Church experiencing considerable division. I had experienced theological differences before, particularly as a woman who had worshipped in evangelical settings. But the debates around Living in Love and Faith and Prayers of Love and Faith have felt different.

    Living with division

    The experience of divisions around gender and sexuality varies in different places. For individuals, this is a deeply personal and faith-based issue. Depending on someone’s sexuality and theological convictions, it can have very different consequences for their lives and experience of the Church.

    At parish level, much depends on whether a congregation has explored LLF and reached an understanding of its position. Despite encouragement from the centre, not all have. A church’s theological identity may also be shaped by its history, patronage and networks. A longstanding relationship with a patronage society such as CPAS may shape expectations about clergy, without the congregation understanding what that means when appointing a new incumbent.

    For clergy, the issue has become part of recruitment. We are now asked about our approach to Prayers of Love and Faith at interviews. I wonder whether those asking and answering the questions always have space to explore what lies behind them and their implications.

    But at Diocesan Synod and, at times, in Deanery Synod too, I’ve noticed these differences most in the relationships and networks between clergy. Theological positions can become quite prominent in how we relate to one another, influencing the conversations we have and the connections we make, even when there is so much more that we share.

    It doesn’t have to be this way. In one Deanery, we agreed not to make our individual positions on PLF the focus. Instead, we concentrated on mission and what we could do together. We didn’t all have to agree theologically in order to work together. This wasn’t about avoiding the issue, instead recognising what else brings us together.

    In wider culture, people are encouraged to take sides and differences become divisions. But shouldn’t the Church be showing a different way? We need to hold on to important theological conversations, and take seriously their impact on people’s lives, without allowing them to become the only thing that unites or divides us.

    Not everyone who trained during this period will have had the same experience. These divisions are not felt in the same way in every parish or diocese. But I do wonder what it means to begin ordained ministry in a Church where uncertainty and division have been part of the landscape from the very beginning.

    And now, many of us are finding ourselves in our first incumbencies, trying to work out what leadership looks like in a Church that is changing around us.

    A good curacy doesn’t mean an easy incumbency

    I was fortunate to have an amazing curacy. My training incumbent wanted me to experience the breadth of ministry, rather than simply learn how to do ministry in one particular parish. I was able to spend extended periods exploring hospital chaplaincy, estate ministry, semi-rural ministry and the Cathedral. This gave me a much wider understanding of the Church and the different ways in which people experience it. I also really valued IME2 training. Having time with other curates to share experiences, talk through challenges and continue reflecting on our learning was hugely important.

    I learnt a lot during those years. Parish ministry is so broad. Some days you are moving chairs, then leading a funeral, and finishing the day with a community food share. You need to hold onto the bigger vision, but you also need to be prepared to get involved in the practical details. You learn the importance of encouraging others to bring their different gifts, approaches and theological perspectives.

    But there are some things you simply cannot learn until you become the incumbent.

    You can be part of a leadership team, but it is different when you are the person ultimately responsible for holding everything together (or, at least, the one expected to hold everything together). You have to make decisions, sometimes knowing that whatever you decide, someone will be disappointed. You have to work out how to encourage change, whilst also being the person who is expected to pastor and care for those who might find that change difficult.

    While a good curacy gives you a strong foundation, it doesn’t necessarily prepare you for everything that comes next.

    So, what is it really like?

    My first year as an incumbent has been harder than I expected.

    The first few months were very busy, with a lot of funerals. I was trying to get to know people, understand the history and dynamics of the parishes, and work out where to begin. There was plenty that needed attention, but also plenty that needed time.

    I came into incumbency with experience of leadership, community development and working across organisations. I wasn’t expecting it to be easy. But I hadn’t quite appreciated the sheer variety of things that your brain has to hold in a single day. One moment you are thinking about a pastoral situation. Then there is a financial decision, a safeguarding concern, a building issue, a service to prepare, a PCC meeting, an email that needs answering and someone who needs a visit. There is an expectation that, as incumbent, you should somehow have the answers, even when you’re still trying to work out the questions.

    Part of the role is helping congregations make sense of how much the world around the Church has changed. Many of the things we have traditionally relied on, and the ways we have always done things, no longer work in quite the same way. That can be difficult to recognise, particularly when people have a deep attachment to their church and its traditions. It takes time, patience and pastoral sensitivity to help people think about what might need to change, without losing sight of what matters to them.

    And then there is pastoral care. I am responsible for three parishes, without a dedicated pastoral care team. People expect the vicar to visit or call people who are struggling or in need of support. I love that part of ministry, but fitting it alongside funerals, weddings, baptisms, services, meetings and the administration of three distinct parishes isn’t always easy. There are people I would like to visit more often. People I would like to spend more time with. Sometimes I know I’ve let people down, even when I’ve been doing everything I can. That’s a difficult thing to carry.

    What are we actually asking incumbents to do?

    I wonder whether we’ve really stopped to think about how much the role of an incumbent has changed.

    Parish ministry has always involved a variety of things, but the expectations seem to have grown considerably. We are expected to be priests, pastors, spiritual leaders, missional leaders, managers, fundraisers, safeguarding leads and administrators. We are often trustees or governors of other organisations too, including schools.

    In many ways, we have become the CEOs of charities, whilst still being expected to do all the things that people associate with being a parish priest. And much of this is happening across multiple parishes, often with limited resources and fewer people available to share the work. Yet the practical skills needed to manage and lead a parish are not necessarily part of our ordinand training syllabus. Much of this has to be learned on the job.

    There is also an expectation that we help churches look outwards, respond creatively to community needs and explore new ways of sharing in God’s mission. I recognise this in the Church of England’s vision: missionary disciples, a mixed ecology of church, and younger and more diverse communities. The 30k Project, aiming to raise up 30,000 children’s and youth ministers by 2030, is part of that commitment.

    I welcome that ambition. I’m helping each of my churches to think about what sustainable growth looks like for them and how we connect with people who may not otherwise encounter church. But innovation takes time: listening, relationships, planning, learning and finding people and resources. It cannot simply be added to an already full week. Helping a church become more outward-looking is itself a significant part of an incumbent’s role. And for some parishes, the immediate challenge isn’t how to grow or develop something new, but simply how to sustain what they already have.

    I think we’ve lost sight of what success looks like. There is always another task, another opportunity, another thing that needs attention. The work doesn’t really stop, and there never seems to be a natural point at which you can say you’ve done enough.

    I can easily work 50–60 hours a week, and I know I’m not alone in that. When you’re on call or managing a busy benefice, even a day off can become vulnerable. There is always the possibility that something will need your attention.

    Despite all of this, there is so much about parish ministry that I value. Being alongside people through the different moments of their lives, and being part of the life of our communities, is a privilege. But have the expectations we place on incumbents become so broad that it is increasingly difficult to do any one part of the role well?

    Who looks after the people who look after everyone else?

    Conversations with other clergy, alongside wider discussions across the Church about clergy wellbeing and burnout, have raised some important questions.

    The Church of England’s Living Ministry research has highlighted the extent to which clergy experience isolation and demoralisation. These aren’t just statistics. Behind them are people who have been called to ministry, who often love what they do, but who are finding the reality increasingly difficult to sustain. We invest a great deal in preparing people for ordination and supporting them through curacy. But there is another stage of formation that happens when you take responsibility for a parish/benefice, and I don’t think we’ve given enough thought to how we support that.

    When I became an incumbent, I was offered a coach and a mentor, as well as six- and twelve-month reviews. I’ve also been part of a leadership programme with other new incumbents, which has been really helpful.

    But the practical arrangements haven’t always worked particularly well. It was largely left to me to make those options for mentoring and coaching work. The mentoring arrangement wasn’t practical because of the distance involved. The coaching support available wasn’t necessarily from someone with a professional coaching qualification.

    New incumbents also need opportunities to meet with others in the same position, and practical training in things that weren’t necessarily part of our theological education, whether that’s governance, managing finances, leading change or developing sustainable churches. I’d also like to see diocesan leaders taking a more proactive interest in how new incumbents are settling in, rather than waiting for someone to say they are struggling.

    There is also something about having a safe space to talk. Clergy hold a lot of pastorally sensitive information and carry the stories of people who trust them. We can’t simply share those experiences with anyone. Other professionals working in pastoral and counselling roles have regular supervision. I know this is being looked into in some dioceses, but I wonder why this hasn’t been embedded at a national level for clergy.

    Reaching breaking point

    Perhaps most importantly, we need to stop relying on individuals to recognise when they are struggling and ask for help. We are not doing enough to support clergy before they reach breaking point.

    And the impact isn’t limited to the clergy themselves. Families live with the pressures of ministry too. They share the uncertainty of unpredictable working hours, the interruption of family time and the emotional weight that clergy can bring home, even when they try not to. When ministry becomes unsustainable, it is often the whole family that feels the consequences.

    And those consequences can be serious. When clergy become too unwell to continue in ministry, they can find themselves facing the loss of their home and their salary at precisely the time they most need security and support. Relationships can break down, families can be put under enormous strain, and tragically, some clergy reach a point of taking their own lives.

    I am still finding my feet. I’m still learning, and there are days when I wonder how everything is going to fit together. I know how much I value being a parish priest, but I want other new incumbents to be able to flourish in their ministry too.

    Perhaps the question we need to ask isn’t simply whether we are preparing people well for ordination, but whether we are continuing to invest in them once they arrive at the place we’ve spent so long preparing them for. And that investment also means helping people navigate the divisions within the Church. We need to be able to hold different theological convictions, have difficult conversations and still recognise what we share. If we are to flourish as a Church, we need to find ways of working together, even when we don’t agree.

  • Trust and Training

    by Revd Dr Sean Doherty, Principal, Trinity College, Bristol


    This afternoon at General Synod, we debated     an important and very substantial report on Trust and Trustworthiness in the Church of England. Some impressive scholars were involved in researching and writing the report (including Professor Veronica Hope Hailey, an expert on trust in organisations, and the well-known theologian Professor David Ford), who generously gave what must have been a very considerable amount of their time on a pro bono basis. Prof. Hope Hailey conducted extensive qualitative research via interviews (which the paper sets out). The Church owes them a debt of gratitude.

    Unfortunately the amount of time we had available to discuss the report could not do it justice (this is no criticism of those who arrange the Synod’s timings, who had an enormous number of important items to schedule). It grapples with a dizzying array of topics, including a theological account of trust, the role of social media, the impact on trust of church-related abuse and the Church of England’s response, and an analysis of the current dynamics of trust and distrust within the Church of England! I hope that we can find further time and ways to consider the document further and in greater depth, and it sounds like further work on the topic is planned.

    In the spirit of fostering that conversation, in this post I want to comment on two aspects of the report. First, on page 25, it raises concerns (substantiated by comments made by two interviewees) about ‘identity and church tradition groups’ which ‘may not seem to have porous or flexible boundaries.’ One interview suggested that ordination training might be partly responsible for ‘baking in this tribal division … right from the beginning’ (paragraph 112). (A couple of speakers drew attention to the potentially clerical framing of some of the report. This would be an example, since of course training for ordination is not the beginning of anyone’s engagement with the Church of England!)

    The report then adopts this ‘tribal’ language itself. For example, on p. 40 it says, ‘Concerns are voiced, and these are not new, that the theological education and formation for the Church’s ministers, and particularly of the clergy, as one interviewee put it, “bakes in” tribal differences from the outset’ (paragraph 189).

    One TEI principal colleague noted that the term ‘tribal’ betrays a rather colonial mindset. No doubt some people are uncritically loyal to their tradition, but in our analysis I think it is important for us to say that, rather than perpetuating stereotypes of tribal cultures as something inherently negative.

     Second, in the next paragraph (190) there is a reference to ‘institutions and programmes that are designed to form candidates in a particular strand of Anglicanism.’ In the run-up to this Synod meeting, I took a straw poll of a cross-section of TEI principals to ask, ‘is your institution/programme designed to form candidates in a particular strand of Anglicanism?’

    All of those who responded said no. We see our task as preparing candidates to serve the whole of the Church. Indeed, this is one of the criteria against which our programmes are assessed when we apply for approval, and one of the things for which we are rightly scrutinised.

    Furthermore, nowadays the majority of candidates train in TEIs which gather students from across traditions, and even TEIs which have historically been associated with particular traditions are probably much broader these days than perhaps at times in the past. This is because many students choose their TEI for practical reasons such as location. Others deliberately opt to go to a TEI outside of their ‘home’ tradition precisely to get a broader experience through training.

     But even helping people to be rooted in a spirituality that feeds and sustains them need not come at the expense of breadth. Traditions can be inhabited defensively and naively, but they can also be inhabited generously and self-critically, as a healthy basis from which to be open to others and receive their gifts.

     Then, of course, the actual process of formation involves varied experiences of community worship, and encountering the full range of theological ideas in reading and seminars. Sometimes teaching is shared between staff from different TEIs such as in the Cambridge Theological Federation, or in the partnership between Bristol Baptist College and Trinity College, where I work. Perhaps most crucially, we all offer placements in a range of traditions. At Trinity, we sometimes have a little debate with particular students about why they need to go to a parish for their placement which will broaden their experience. Occasionally they are a little reluctant! But they almost always come back absolutely delighted by the experience, and grateful for the generosity of the parishes who welcome them and the clergy who supervise them and explain things.

    I hope this reassures readers that TEIs really want to ensure that candidates for ministry have ‘a deep understanding and empathy for other traditions’ (paragraph 190). No doubt there is more to learn about how we can do so, and more we can do to foster a culture in which people can be confident in their own tradition but open to others. We therefore look forward to engaging further with this work as it develops.