church

Thursday Tiny Tale – Pastoral Care

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 23 Comments

‘You’re listening to BBC Radio 4 and on ‘Sunday’ this morning we talk to one of the Church of England’s exorcists, the Reverend Nick De’Vilno. Rev, many people will be surprised to hear the church today still has exorcists.’

‘Actually we call it our deliverance ministry.’

‘Does the Church of England really believe people can be possessed?’

‘We believe some people genuinely believe they are possessed, “deliverance” is part of pastoral care: it is the ministry of liberating, freeing or delivering a person from a burden which they carry.’

‘But do you believe a person could really be possessed by demons or even The Devil himself?’

‘Our Lord talked about casting out demons, but that was the language his listeners would have understood.’

‘So you don’t believe Jesus cast out demons into a herd of swine.’

‘I believe the poor man would have seen his troubled mind eased in a way he could understand.’

‘I understand the Archbishop has given permission for the makers of the popular podcast ‘It Really Happened’ to follow your ministry.’

‘Yes indeed, but if listeners are hoping for sensationalism or to be terrified, they will be sorely disappointed. They will hear about our working together with mental health practitioners to help those in need.’

‘Welcome to this week’s special podcast with me Robbie Danson. I am waiting outside a very ordinary suburban house with the Reverend Nick De’Vilno, an exorcist with the Church of England, or as he prefers, a member of the church’s deliverance ministry. Inside the house is the owner, who we shall call David, as that is his name and with him is a mental health specialist who works in close collaboration with the deliverance ministry. When she comes out she will tell us if it is appropriate for Nick to chat to David.’

‘Just chat at this stage Nick?’

‘Of course, this is essentially a pastoral visit.’

‘Ah, the front door is opening now, a young woman is stepping, no running…

‘Oh God help us, run Robbie, I’m not going back in there again, run, let’s get out of here Vicar… I h..hope you really have ggot God on your side…’

‘Wait, wait calm down dear.’

‘Don’t you****ing tell me to calm down, that poor mmman, it’s going to get him…’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll just pop in and talk to him, see, there he is at the door.’

‘This is Robbie Danson still here, things are really kicking off, the mental health worker has fled and Nick has gone to talk to David… let’s move closer so we can hear.’

‘It’s okay David, what is it you are afraid of…’

‘The television, it was IN the television, like it has been for weeks, nobody believed me, horrible, horrible…’

‘We believe you, are you sure it wasn’t a horror movie, you accidentally knocked the remote control onto another channel. Let’s go inside and check.’

‘I can’t, I can’t get away, but I wwon’t go back in there.’

‘It will be okay, if it’s in the television set it can’t hurt you, look. I’ll go in first…’

‘NOOO you mustn’t … it, it came OUT of the television…’

‘This is the BBC News at Six O’clock, here are the headlines.  A well know podcast has been widely criticised and The Archbishop of Canterbury is to make a statement shortly, after a member of the clergy and a parishioner he was trying to help, were both killed in an horrific unexplained accident.’

The Game of Death Well Played.

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 32 Comments

When my mother planned her funeral five years ago, she could never have imagined it would be streamed live across the world, but the service itself went as well as she had planned, despite Covid. As Western Australia has dealt well with the pandemic the limit was sixty people in Mum’s own church; how many of us could summon that many people to our funeral, especially at the age of 94 when many of one’s friends have already departed. Mum was also the last of her generation in our immediate family.

On the tenth of August my daughter and I were up ready to watch the funeral on her lap top at 4am British Summer Time, 11 am in Perth. The link failed just as my sister started reading the piece I had written and reconnected in time to see my brother reading his piece. Luckily the recording worked perfectly and we were able to watch that later.

This was a warm Christian funeral with the priest who knew her well, who had been visiting her in her last weeks; a sad, but happy event. Mum had been ready to go for a while. Five weeks previously my sister thought it was the final weekend. I had already talked to her on the phone not long before, laughing and putting the world to rights. She knew I would be widowed soon and would have willingly swapped places with Cyberspouse. Having outlived my father by 24 years she had been in the same situation, also with plenty of support from the rest of the family. We laughed at her memory of the mountains of paperwork they had to sort out; carefully preserved by Dad, dating back to our arrival in Australia in 1964. Mum’s hearing and mind were in fine fettle up to the end. On the ‘last weekend’ I manged to Facetime with her and my sister, a very different experience from those forced to do that with relatives dying of Covid, isolated in intensive care.

Our mother had chosen to go into a care home five years ago and made new friends, took up knitting again and started new hobbies such as card making. She had a room with its own little terrace where everyone could visit including my sister’s dog. Recently she had to move into the higher care unit, but was still watching the evening news. The care home had Covid rules and restrictions, but never went into lockdown, Mum could still have visits. After the ‘last weekend’ Mum felt peckish and carried on for those next five weeks!

It was a sad day for staff and her friends at the care home when she finally left; two of her friends there said she was the best friend they ever had.