Memories Brought To Mind Following The Death Of A Tutor

I learned today that George Bebawi, one of my tutors from theological college died recently. He was eighty-three. May he rest in peace and rise in glory.

I have a recurring dream about my alma mater in which I never leave it. I just keep taking the course over and over again. I am not surprised as it was the last time in my life that I was happy and felt that I was part of a community of people. After leaving college I became a curate with the vicar from hell, a bullying, fat queen whose behaviour around the teenagers in the congregation made my flesh crawl (on one occasion, he took a boy from the congregation to a "sauna" and photographed him in the nude). I had a nervous breakdown and that led eventually to my constructive expulsion from the Church of England. My time at ordination college and all the hard work I put in, turned out to be a waste of time. No wonder, I dream about going back there and starting again, making sure I choose my training vicar and diocesan bishop with far more care than I did last time. Sadly, in my church, you do not get a second chance.


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