Interlude: Manchester

One or two people have asked me on my travels when I'm visiting Manchester - the place where I trained for and started Ministry. It's a fair question - but actually, the answer is that I've already been. When I was thinking about this topic of Pilgrimage, and visiting places, for my next Sabbatical I decided to try it out by going there - so, in January last year, I spent a couple of days there.

Clayton Methodist Church

I was blessed with decent weather for the most part - it wasn't freezing cold, and didn't rain. I was able to leave my car at the hotel and get around on food and via the Metrolink, although at one or two points my navigation (based on memory of a place I'd left a dozen years before) were slightly faulty.

Nevertheless, there were quite a few things that fitted the pattern that some of my visits have followed: things have changed. I knew a little about it before I arrived - in particular, that Clayton - the church I had for longest - was no more. Ironically, this wasn't because of a lack of membership, but developing structural issues with the building! Almost overnight, they'd gone and joined the congregation at Church of the Epiphany, the LEP in a new building just a little further away and which I'd been at the opening of back in my days in the Manchester Circuit. The building was still there, waiting for whatever happens next. 

In some ways, my decision to leave Manchester had been about me leaving some of my mistakes behind me. I'd arrived there as a student, without much time on placement behind me, and to be honest I played on that a bit too much; it meant that even when I was ordained, after a student year and then two years as a Probationer, there was still a perception that I was new, still learning the job. Now, as I prepare for my 19th year in Circuit, I know that I am to a degree still learning, and will never stop! While it's no longer the standard advice or expectation that a Probationer will move on at the end of their first appointment, in my case it was always going to be the right thing to do. Some Ministers make a point of never seeking an extension, and I respect that they subject themselves to that discipline; for me, I think there's maybe a difference in emphasis that I've developed - at the first reinvitation I ask "what are the things saying I should move", and the second one "what are the things saying I should stay". As someone that's moved around a fair bit - Great Ayton is the seventh address I've had where I've lived for five years or more in my life - maybe I find the idea of staying in the same place for 15, 20 years a bit daunting? 

I walked past what had been "my" churches then, but knew as well that so many of the people I remembered would no longer be there. I wasn't there for a Sunday, didn't really feel the need to meet up with people. I think there's something about a large town or city that encourages a sort of anonymity in any case; I used to go into the City Centre reasonably often, but it was rare to be walking around the Arndale, or from the Tram to the Methodist Central Hall, and bump into someone I knew. In my other appointments, although I sometimes miss the opportunity to be a bit more incognito, I have also appreciated that it feels much more of a community.

One of the other differences, reflecting back now, between Manchester and some of the other places I've visited, is that while there were plenty of changes there too, it felt that demolition was often being followed by reconstruction - the cranes hung over the city, signs of rebuilding as I approached the City Centre on my way to the Art Gallery to see again some of my favourite paintings. Tearing down, building up - is there something about recognising that an ending can also be a new beginning? 

Another song that's been in my head since the weekend is Simple Minds' "Belfast Child" - a big hit in my teenage years. But while in some ways the opening verse - "Someday soon they're gonna pull the old town down" - is quite appropriate for many of the places I have been to, it's the line close to the end that has resonated: "Life goes on...."