A nomadic ministry

Jackie Macadam learns more about the joys of pulpit supply.

“SCOTLAND may be a small country but you only have to go thirty miles in any direction to find a different nuance, a different twang, different language even. It’s great – I love belonging to a big wee country!”

As a pulpit supply minister, the Rev Ewen Gilchrist can say he’s seen more of Scotland’s parishes than most others, and has ministered in many of them.

“I retired eight years ago from my parish in Aberdeen. My daughters had extracted a promise that I would do nothing – “Nothing, Dad!” – for six months. After six months I was allowed out to play again and that’s when the “pulpit supply” ministry began.”

Ewen didn’t start his professional life as a minister. His first real job was as a reporter on a local paper – work, he claims that set him up well for life as a parish supply minister.

“I tumbled into journalism after a west of Scotland schooling and particularly enjoyed the pulse beat of weekly newspapers. Some of the editors were real characters who knew their communities inside out. It was said of the editor of a fine Borders paper that a sparrow couldn’t poop in his town without his permission! These editors weren’t afraid to hold councillors, provosts and the machinery of local government to account for perceived ineptitude or dithering.

“Newspapers and their journalists live or die by the inevitable deadlines; which proved to be useful prep for parish ministry where I was horrified to discover that Sunday came round every seven days! Funerals, school assemblies, weddings, seasons meant the clock was always ticking and you had to have stuff ready – stories, sermons, prayers. There are plenty of books which offer bamboozled ministers ideas for services and seasons; sometimes, in desperation, they are a straw to clutch to but I soon realised that it’s much, much better finding your own words, developing your own style. This is not a vanity exercise; it’s learning the craft of parish ministry.

I know for a fact that what I produced wasn’t always brilliant but it was, hopefully, authentic and honest – and that can give you, the preacher, a kind of credibility.”

No one was more surprised than Ewen when he realised he had a calling.

“I was horrified when I realised that the ludicrous notion of dog-collared ministry was taking root inside me. The only ministers I knew were men of real learning and wisdom; they had a gentle kind of gravitas about them; no way could I emulate that.

“But the idea refused to go away; the itch had to be scratched. That perhaps doesn’t sound very spiritual but I assure you there was a real civil war going on in my heart. I thought the Kirk’s ministerial selection school system would knock such nonsense straight out the park – “Yes, Mr Gilchrist, you are deluded. Please go back to your newspaper office,” but selection school said yes, and everything changed.

“Thirty-five years of parish ministry followed, initially in parishes in the west of Scotland, Perth and Aberdeen followed.

“To use football terminology, in your own parish, every game is a home game,” he laughs. “If you have been fortunate enough to win the respect and affection of your people then you get to understand what wavelength they are on; what the ‘vibe, of your congregation is. And they get to understand, even tolerate, their minister’s whims and eccentricities!

“But pulpit supply is something else altogether. There are no ‘home’ games anymore. I might arrive at a church for the very first time, maybe half an hour before the service, and I have to try to work out the vibe of the congregation. Are they a happy bunch or are there mutinous grumbles just below the surface? Are they uncertain about their future, with some ‘presbytery plan’ hanging over them? Do they share a proud history; are they excited about future plans? Is there room for laughter in this congregation, for some holy mischief ? Are they looking for a faith adventure or just hoping for some gentle palliative care?”

The challenges of pulpit supply appealed to Ewen.

“ I love the wonderful diversity of the Kirk; the beauty of some of its buildings; the energy and vitality and faithfulness of so many of Jesus’ ‘foot soldiers.

“I love the wonderful diversity of the Kirk; the beauty of some of its buildings; the energy and vitality and faithfulness of so many of Jesus’ ‘foot soldiers.’”

And he’s constantly amazed by what he finds when he sets up for the service – especially under the altar cloth.

“You’d be amazed what some ministers keep in and under their communion tables. As my mother would have proclaimed, ‘It’s a boorach in there!’ Some ministers have a philosophy of throwing nothing out – ‘It might be useful one day.’ And so beneath, below or within the varnished dignity of the communion table there’s enough ‘stuff ’ to supply an auction house for months. Candles and tapers, matchboxes and snuffers; old service sheets; faded hymnaries (CH2 – I kid you not!); obscure implements; old table lecterns; stuffed toys (testimony perhaps to an inspired last-minute idea for an allage talk); batteries and flexes and sweetie wrappings. God’s glory hole!

“Sometimes one comes across a church whose every brick and plaque is cared for and polished; an absolutely beautiful sanctuary surrounded by an immaculately tended graveyard. And yet, no pulsebeat. The fault may well be mine but I cannot find that congregation’s secret heart – be it broken or blessed.

“And sometimes I find myself in noisy, untidy, scruffy kirks with doors which don’t shut properly and draughts whistling through the windows; a vestry which hasn’t been dusted in a decade and some plastic flowers from the 1960s. And yet the place has life! And laughter! And the Gospel is sung and shared and celebrated!”

Pulpit-supply brings its joys and challenges, but sometimes Ewen misses the family aspect to having a parish of his own.

“I miss belonging to one specific ‘family of Christ’; being rooted in the life of one congregation. I was fortunate enough to be part of such a family in my last parish. Of course I miss that.

“But the world of ‘pulpit supply’ offers different joys and challenges. I love the opportunity it continues to give me to try to share something of our Gospel in our broken but still wonderful world. Christianity is anything but fashionable at the moment and our secular-leaning society is definitely sniffy and patronising to the point of prejudice regarding ‘faith’ and the living of it in public life.

“Against that backdrop of contemporary cultural snobbery, even though I may just be popping into a congregation’s life for a week or two, if I can encourage them to live their faith bravely and generously, well that’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick!

“Some churches I have got to know quite well, privileged to be their holiday fill-in preacher from time to time. On those occasions, it feels as if I’m returning to a familiar holiday house - I hope the folks are looking forward to it as much as I am!

“I’m pretty sure that this nomadic ministry will come to a halt sooner or later. I hope I’ll be able to tell when it’s time to call it a day and simply take my place in a pew. Maybe some wise and brave soul will take me aside and gently tell me: ‘It’s time, Ewen.’ But not quite yet…..”