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Jasmine
Jasmine made a perfect housemate; quiet, neat and considerate. Friendly and hard-working, she ... I can't say she filled the void left by Susan's absence, but she was her own, unique presence. She tidied, swept and vacuumed, washed up and shared the cooking; she even paired my socks. When she wasn't studying or working at her laptop, we'd listen to music, occasionally sharing some comment about it, perhaps watch a film. We discussed politics ... and religion ... without coming to blows.
That's not to say I, at least, wasn't experiencing some tension. I was sharing a small house, with only one bathroom, with a delightful young woman; intelligent, quick; with a sense of humour that may not have been everyone's cup of tea, but certainly matched my own (such as it is). It didn't help when she got comfortable enough around me to sometimes appear in bra and panties, or a nightie. I found I was masturbating with even greater regularity.
Autumn was well under way when I got a call from the Super. I'd been a Methodist preacher for years. When Susan left, I had to ask to be released from my appointments; I just couldn't concentrate and focus on God; in all conscience, I couldn't stand and preach to a congregation, leading worship, when I felt so lost myself. The church was a comfort, true; my friends were incredibly supportive without being so in such a way as to inflame my discomfort. The Super asked me to call to see him, or, if I preferred, he'd come to me. I asked him to come to me.
He came ... it was a Thursday morning ... just as Jasmine came down to make some coffee. His eyebrows raised slightly, but he didn't seem shocked or put out at all. I introduced them, commenting that Jasmine kept me company in exchange for accommodation; he just smiled.
Jasmine shook his hand and turned to me. "I'll make you both some coffee, shall I?" She looked at Philip, who nodded;
"Yes, please, Jasmine. Perhaps you won't mind leaving Bill and me to have a private conversation?"
"Of course!"
We sat in the living room, sipped coffee and made small-talk.
"This is very pleasant," I said, "but I'm sure you're very busy and not just here as a social call."
"No, Bill, you're quite right. Though this is a pastoral visit as well. There's two matters I'd like to address." He paused, frowned and was clearly sorting out his thoughts ... which was a little unusual. I'd never seen him unsure of what to say, especially when he'd had time to think about what he wanted to say. Then he went on; "I had a visit from Susan some time ago, explaining what she was doing and why. I've also spoken to Tamara and Phoebe."
I just looked at him, wondering where this was going.
"I'm forgetting something important," he said, "we'd better pray before I go on. Father, give us wisdom to see your way forward ... and humility to set aside prejudice and preconceptions ... and courage to accept and follow that way forward. Amen"
"Amen," I echoed, puzzled.
"Bill, I may not agree with Susan at every point, but what she's done, what she's saying, is enormously brave. Tamara and Phoebe are fully supporting of her approach. That approach, she emphasised, is entirely her idea and you cannot be held responsible for it. You do, however, have to decide on your response to it. You could fight it and refuse to co-operate which, I suspect, is what you've been doing. Bill, she loves you, and it was breaking her heart watching you struggle. I suggest it would be... right ... to accept what she's giving you ... in love, from love. Out of that, I will not judge you ... either way."
I nodded, in acceptance of his point, rather than in agreement.
"Very well..." he went on again. "Bill ... we need you back in the pulpit."
"But..."
"Bill, there's a lot of sickness among the ministers of this circuit. We lost one in July when Simon left to take up his appointment in Durham, so we're a Presbyter down, Nicole has asked to be relieved of preaching to care for her mother. You may not be aware of how much we're struggling. We can't cover the plan properly. If you could do one appointment a month it would free things up immensely. The first need would be to cover for Nicole in a fortnight."
"Philip, I..." I stopped, thinking. Did I believe the things I'd been saying from the front of churches for years? Was my... self-pity a good reason to turn down a perfectly reasonable request? "Okay," I said, "one a month, starting in a fortnight."
"One other thing, Bill ... have you asked that delightful young woman to go to church with you? You never know, she might like it." He smiled, and stood, holding out his hand.
I took it and shook it, half resenting the responsibility I'd just agreed to.
When he left, I went straight to the lectionary – the calendar of Bible readings for the church's year – to start planning my first preaching appointment since Susan left.
I was immersed in my plans when Jasmine came in – Bible open, commentary, concordance, Greek Testament and lexicon, hymn books, scattered round me.
"What are you doing?" Her manner was curious, rather than intrusive.
"I'm planning a service and thinking about a sermon theme," I told her in response.
"Oh! I didn't know you did that..."
"Tammy didn't tell you everything, then."
"Not everything, no. Just enough to trust you. Perhaps I could come and listen to you."
"Certainly, if you like."
I changed my mind about the sermon theme, and made some necessary changes to the service plan, ditching the set readings in favour of the story of Zacchaeus.
For historical reasons, Methodist ministry is 'peripatetic' – meaning preachers travel around. Not to the extent of John Wesley, admittedly; usually within one "circuit" or grouping of churches. Ecclesall Circuit in Sheffield nowadays has eight churches, served by up to four 'Presbyters' – the Methodist equivalent of a Vicar – some of whom may be part-time, assisted by Local Preachers (unpaid, non-ordained ministers) and possibly by retired Presbyters or Deacons. As the circuit includes a Local Ecumenical Project – a church shared with the Church of England, one of the Presbyters is actually a Church of England Vicar. Enough, I hear you say? Okay. As a Local Preacher, I travel, then. Up to, possibly in my case, fifteen miles, and serve up to twenty churches in the general area. It is challenging, fascinating and usually enjoyable as well as being an incredible privilege.
On this particular occasion, I was to go to Millhouses church, a traditional style and laid out building with a fairly small congregation. I thought it might be a little difficult for Jasmine to accompany me to a strange place, with people she didn't know; obviously I would be otherwise occupied, so I was grateful Tammy agreed to join us. Particularly since she wouldn't usually turn out for church on a Sunday morning.
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