Not Anglican Anymore

How does one leave the Church of England? There’s no ritual for that, no public ceremony to mark this step.

So I’m announcing it here:

no more. Enough.

I do not consider myself Anglican, as of today.

I’m letting go of one more oppressive place in my life.

And this has been a long time coming.

I will never feel a sense of belonging in this Church, given that I’m a woman (with a vocation to the priesthood no less), I’m part of the LGBT community, and I’m a child abuse survivor, watching the news unfold around the CofE’s current inquiry into clerical child abuse.

No more.

I grew up in an unhealthy church, and in an unhealthy family.

I deserve better. And I have a choice now.

I don’t know where that will take me regarding vocation, how that will work out. But I don’t have to know. I trust God who loves me and who wants health and wholeness and only good for me. She will provide. That’s all I need to know.

“Beloved is where we begin…”

J. Richardson

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Happy International Women’s Day!


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‘Babel’, Cildo Meireles (2001)

A Babelonian tower of radios, from the antique to the newest versions, all switched on and talking/ playing music at the same time. Quite an experience.

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Blessing The Body

This blessing takes
one look at you
and all it can say is

Holy hands.
Holy face.
Holy feet.
Holy everything
in between.

Holy even in pain.
Holy even when weary.
In brokenness, holy.
In shame, holy still.

Holy in delight.
Holy in distress.
Holy when being born.
Holy when we lay it down
at the hour of our death.

So, friend,
open your eyes
(holy eyes).
For one moment
see what this blessing sees,
this blessing that knows
how you have been formed
and knit together
in wonder and
in love.

Welcome this blessing
that folds its hands
in prayer
when it meets you;
receive this blessing
that wants to kneel
in reverence
before you:
you who are
home for God
in this world.

© Jan Richardson.


durer feet-of-an-apostle possibly etching


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Touched By An Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.


Maya Angelou

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Printemps II



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Printemps I



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