When I first arrived in Praia da Luz back in April 2017 to lead St Vincent’s Anglican Chaplaincy – and specifically the Luz congregation – I had a very specific picture in my mind. I imagined I would primarily be ministering to a quiet, traditional community of retired British expatriates! Instead, I discovered a vibrant, deeply cosmopolitan church family that constantly surprised and delighted me. Now, as I prepare to preach my final sermon on 16 August, I find myself looking back on nearly a decade of profound transformation – both for the church and for myself.
With five years still to go before official retirement, deciding to leave this beautiful corner of Portugal was by no means an easy choice. It was a decision shaped by practicalities – family back in Britain (some ageing), pension considerations and future career steps. But anyone who has ever felt a deeper calling knows that logic rarely tells the whole story.
This August, my wife Angela and I will be trading the Algarve sunshine for the expansive skies of Cambridgeshire. There, I am taking on a vastly different challenge: overseeing four rural parish churches, some located in villages of just a hundred residents – we sometimes get that at services on a Sunday!
And to put it bluntly, my head has occasionally told me this move is completely crazy. I am leaving a flourishing, packed church with a world-class choir to minister in historic churches where Sunday attendance might sometimes be in the single digits. Yet, my heart insists it is the right path at this time. I’ve learned over the years that while preaching to a hundred people looking back at you is wonderful, a congregation of one is just as important.
This tug-of-war between head and heart is something I’ve lived with for a long time. Before entering the ministry, I enjoyed a successful career in IT. Technology was my hobby before it became my job, and it remains a massive passion of mine today. In fact, I still closely follow developments in artificial intelligence, finding it a remarkably practical tool for modern communication – it has a wonderful knack for placating difficult emails because, unlike us, it never loses its temper or inflames a situation!
My path to the priesthood wasn’t a sudden, dramatic lightning bolt. It was a gradual shift. I simply found myself reading far more theology books than IT technical manuals, realising my life was tilting in an entirely new direction.
Long before that, though, I was always searching for something deeper. Growing up in Hackney, London, I was surrounded by a rich tapestry of Turkish, Jewish, West Indian and Asian neighbours. That wonderfully diverse environment shaped my view of what “proper” church should look like – a place where nationality, age and social “status” take a backseat to a shared thread of faith. I’ve always sensed a presence beyond myself; I think we all have quiet conversations with the divine, even before we know what name to give it. Ironically, I first started attending church decades ago simply to confirm my suspicion that churchgoers were all a bit mad! It seems the joke was on me, as I ended up becoming one of them.
For me, faith and prayer are delightfully uncomplicated. Prayer isn’t a laundry list of demands; it’s just gratitude and conversation. It feels like coming home from school and telling God what I did with my day. It’s a quiet confidence that doesn’t depend on life always going perfectly.
What I will treasure most about my time at St Vincent’s is the sheer, beautiful diversity of the people. Our pews have been filled not just with Brits but with Canadians, Americans, South Africans, Germans, Dutch, Swedish and Italian worshippers – to name a few. And although we are Anglican by tradition, our community regularly brings together Methodists, Baptists and Catholics.
I am going to miss that cosmopolitan energy terribly, and I will especially miss our choir, whose music brings such emotional depth and beauty to our worship.
Portugal will always hold a piece of our hearts. Angela and I are already planning our return trips – this time as visitors. We are looking forward to finally exploring places like Fátima and Tomar, which we ironically never found time to visit while living here.
Communities outlast any single person, and we hope and pray that the next priest will become just as loved by all of you as we have felt during our time here. Life often only makes sense when we look back, seeing how the little steps connect.
It’s certainly not “goodbye”, just Até breve.
God bless,
Fr Rob and Angela
