Nicola Barker - Burley Cross Postbox Theft

I deeply regret it if your feelings were hurt by my speaking out so candidly on the matter, especially in front of Mr Simms, Miss Logan, Mrs Bramwell, Ms Brooks and Mrs Hawkes. Such an outburst is entirely uncharacteristic of me and I have felt profoundly troubled by it ever since.

It goes without saying that I have thought and prayed about this matter a great deal over the past week, and the only conclusion I can honestly reach is that the argument between us cast more light on my weaknesses and insecurities than on anything else. These are qualities in myself that I certainly need to work upon, and I shall (God willing — with His grace).

On a more positive note: in some ways I’m actually quite relieved that the sharp exchange of words we had on Sunday brought a few things out into the open that might reasonably be said to have been ‘festering away between us’ all these long months…

a) The Candles:

I am sorry that you don’t like the candles. I can see why they might irritate you. I don’t accept that they pose a fire risk, but I do concede that they alter the atmosphere of the church, overall. I don’t think they are unduly ‘Popish’, Reverend — in fact I have had several very positive comments about them. Many parishioners seem to find a certain measure of comfort in lighting them and then using them as a direct means of focusing their thoughts and energies on a worrying problem, a sick friend, or a recently departed soul.

I have also been told that when worshippers enter the church to pray and find it unoccupied, the cheerful sight of the bank of flickering candles gives them a sense of community, a feeling that they are part of an ongoing series of conversations with the Almighty and a general, overall impression that their voice (and their predicament, more to the point) isn’t a lone one.

Last — but by no mean least — the financial contribution the candles make (I pay just under 8p/candle and ask for a contribution of 20p/candle from the parishioners) does add significantly to St Peter’s modest charitable armoury. Half of the money raised this year I am intending to donate to The Red Crescent, and to put the other half towards a mobile (i.e. with wheels), free-standing notice board, which I hope to use to promote local and international voluntary organizations and good causes.

b) My Cassocks:

As for my ‘ridiculous robes’, Reverend Horwood… Well, I suppose they might seem a touch theatrical to someone who prefers to think a sensible clergyman should always stick to the traditional black! Ultimately, I suppose, it is just a matter of personal taste. If I do look like a ‘big, gallumphing fairy’ in them then it’s useful for me to be aware of it, and to alter my behaviour accordingly (perhaps I should sign up for Jill Harpington’s tap and ballet classes at the village hall, and improve my deportment skills alongside the local six- and seven-year-olds! I might even try and galvanize some of the ballet mums into signing their little ones up for the new Sunday School while I’m at it!)!

c) The Flowers:

I do think the point you made about flowers in the church had a great deal of validity to it. I’m ashamed to confess that I hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that some members of the parish might be allergic to them — the lilies especially. Gillian Reed is actually responsible for the majority of the displays. I think she has a real knack for arranging — a genius, even. She has spent a great deal of time and energy over recent months conducting a series of truly fascinating researches into the ‘language of flowers’, a medieval concept (the lily, for example, represents the Blessed Virgin!) and likes to experiment with these wonderful ancient symbols and ideas in her arrangements.

Of course to someone like yourself, who doesn’t welcome the sight of flowers indoors and finds them, at best, frivolous (even at funerals!) and, at worst, toxic, they might indeed make the church resemble ‘the inside of some trendy, Chelsea fashion boutique and not a sober place of worship’.

I will certainly consult with Gill on the issue and see if we can integrate some more seasonal, less sumptuous flowers into the mix (more holly and ivy and dried flowers, perhaps). I’m sure she will be delighted to do this and that these restrictions will bring out a still greater creativity in her.

d) Music:

After what you said about my ‘sidelining’ Drew Cullen, I thought it best to go to him directly and have a private word with him on the matter. We spoke frankly and openly about many subjects relating to the church, the church organ, to music in general and its wider role (as I perceive it) in the liturgy.

Drew kindly confided in me that he had been finding it quite a strain to keep up with his commitments at St Peter’s over the past year or so, and that he actually welcomed Shoshana’s recent involvement, her fresh approach and her extended repertoire (not to mention her first-class fund-raising skills!).

The issue of music is probably one that you and I will never find true accord on, Reverend Horwood. While to you it is simply a bane (an awful, jarring cacophony!), to me it is an untrammelled joy (a true balm to the troubled soul!). When all is said and done, I suppose this is just something we’re going to have to continue to agree to disagree about.

As a matter of idle interest, Reverend, just before I sat down to write this letter I chanced to look at my diary and saw that it was almost exactly ten months — to the very day — since I took my first faltering steps in this glorious parish of ours.

For a second I was perfectly astonished — the time seems to have passed so quickly! There’s still so much I need to do! And then, with the benefit of some sober reflection, I realized how much had been achieved since I first arrived here.

It is also (and I hardly need tell you this!) almost ten months, to the day, since you formally retired. From my few snatched conversations with you (and my chats with your former parishioners — especially that redoubtable group of acolytes I like to call ‘Reverend Horwood’s Ladies’!) I knew that this was not a change in your life and circumstances that you felt entirely at ease with. I don’t doubt that this transition (or ‘evolution’ as I prefer to think of it) has been rendered somewhat less precipitous (and hopefully less traumatic) by your unexpected decision to remain living in the diocese and to continue to engage with — and preach at — St Peter’s whenever the opportunity arises.

I won’t pretend that I wasn’t initially rather taken aback by this decision of yours (which, in most parishes, would be considered a serious breach of Church etiquette!), but with the benefit of time and experience I have been able to realize how wrong (worse still, how arrogant) my misgivings (and my silly prejudices) were.

I have had plenty to learn about this small but dynamic new parish over the last ten months, and what better a person to teach me than someone who knows it like the back of his own hand?

Of course we approach things very differently, Reverend. We come from very different places — emotionally, theologically, socially, culturally — so it was almost inevitable that some feathers would be ruffled (on both sides) along the way.

I’m sure I thought — on the odd occasion — that you were far too uncompromising, old-fashioned and stuck in your ways. I’m sure you — in your turn — thought I was way too much of an ‘eager beaver’, too gung-ho, too touchy-feely, too liberal, too ingratiating, too intent on changing things for change’s sake (I believe ‘Princess Pushy’ was my nickname for the first six months or so!!). I don’t for a moment doubt that there was some measure of validity to these harsh assessments of ours on either side.