As we travel through these last weeks at St Matthew's, I have, not surprisingly, been reflecting a great deal about the church I am leaving...about our health, how it feels to be part of the congregation, how we appear to the wider community.
Our website says
" we strive to live by the message of Christ, in which there are no outcasts and all are welcome.
and visitors typically speak of us as welcoming or hospitable - so I have to admit that I found it uncomfortably challenging when a member of our congregation blogged thus
On one level, of course, the answer to her question "Is church really for me" must be a resounding "YES"
If we cannot make church an experience for everyone - then we need to stop right where we are and have a long hard look at ourselves - and start doing things differently.
On another level - well, NO - church isn't for her - or for me - or for my godson, who's nearly 3, nor even for lovely M., in her 70s, and a lifelong servant of her parish church and the community beyond it.
If by "church" we mean what happens on Sunday mornings at 10.00 - then actually it's not for any of us.
We go there to worship GOD - and it's sometimes rather too easy to let the agenda slip into "going to church for reassurance/friendship/education" - all good things in themselves, which will in different measure be part of the church experience - but which aren't the core purpose of that time we spend within the walls every week.
There are some other things that I'd take issue with in A's post.
For example, I did indeed find myself as the only mum with small children in a local church told that if I wanted any provision for them, it was up to me to provide it - and provide it I did (and from that all sorts of things grew over the years - but that's another story).
And there is, I'm afraid, truth in the saying that "like attracts like".
For whatever reason, outside the urban centres it seems very hard for churches to attract young singles.
At that stage of my own life I was living in London, and attending church as a chorister - so I had a ready-made social circle based around singing.
We spent lots of time together, with pub as an essential postlude to choir practice, Sunday Mass and Evensong - and friendships flourished in that context so that eventually we formed our own under 30s study group, thus giving us another opportunity to meet up in the week. That wasn't laid on by the church - I don't even remember whether any of the clergy attended, though we did have 2 young curates at the time...but for a while that group met our needs til we began to move on in our lives and out of London.
I tend to think of that as in some ways my "golden age" of church membership but from what I remember of my view of the pews, there were very few young adults even then, beyond those whose partners were part of the choir.
At St M's now we do have clutch of thirty some-things in the congregation (something that just wasn't the case a few years ago) they are nearly all parents - so it's that much harder for them to join in any evening activities, or to commit to anything beyond the demands of work and family life - even though they may well aspire to that sort of "whole life" community that is often labelled new monasticism. So - though they are there, they aren't going to be much help for A., as she searches for authentic community - and that's a shame.
Which means that, though I long to produce a ready-made source of like-minded souls from her generation - it's just not going to happen. Mostly church IS messy...full of haphazard relationships, unlikely friendships that force you to reframe your own sense of self, or, more crucially, to leave that sense of self at the door as you focus on what you can offer to another in faith, hope and love.
But of course she is right that we all have a mutual responsibility to one another - that if we're not doing enough to make any particular constituency feel welcome, then we are failing in hospitality, - one of our key Christian callings.
And of course, that applies to more than any particular age group.
We won't find a perfect church that meets the needs of all of us - and sometimes it's more important to say, in a kind of JFK way "Ask not what your church can do for you, but rather what you can do for your church" - but we do need to take seriously our calling to model God's inclusive welcome in all that we say and do and are...
The House of Bishops seem to see this rather differently from this very ordinary parish priest - and I do know that the responsibility of holding things together is apt to take its toll. I'll never forget how it felt when I found myself wearing +Michael's episcopal ring during a training event. I blogged about it here
and need to re-visit the experience whenever I'm feeling specially frustrated or impatient.
But it seems to me that the most recent "Pastoral letter" (which seems so very FAR from pastoral that it is in danger of redefining the word in an almost Orwellian way) has taken things in a new and rather alarming direction. Though the Pilling report opened the way for a period of dialogue, it's hard to see what conversation is possible now. There have been many responses in the past week, from those with a much more personal stake in the discussions. The legal situation has been analysed, the personal impact dissected and one wonderful blogging friend wrote a letter that I would love to have penned myself.
Since then, some bishops have manned the barricades for the sake of the poor - challenging the culture that divides society into deserving and undeserving in a way that would see us back at the Elizabethan Poor Law before we've turned round twice...
And I've remembered that this "being Church" thing is nothing like as straightforward as turning up on a Sunday morning.
It's not about St Matthew's, or the diocese of Gloucester or even about the whole C of E. It's not about what we do together in worship - though that's part of the story, of course.
Rather it's about our attempts to live as signs of God's kingdom...stumbling, imperfect, disappointing signs, but doing the best that we can.
So - I'm turning again to some words I sang first at Greenbelt, words which are now a kind of personal creed.
This is where I stand.
This is the Church that I long for.
I love that just and unjust are equally welcome.
I've no idea what it would look like on a Sunday morning, whether A. would find kindred spirits, whether the noise of the children would distress the elderly who can't hear so well, whether we'd FEEL as if we were "getting it right".
I just know that this must be what "inclusive Church" is really all about - and one day, by God's grace, it will come to pass.
Our website says
" we strive to live by the message of Christ, in which there are no outcasts and all are welcome.
and visitors typically speak of us as welcoming or hospitable - so I have to admit that I found it uncomfortably challenging when a member of our congregation blogged thus
On one level, of course, the answer to her question "Is church really for me" must be a resounding "YES"
If we cannot make church an experience for everyone - then we need to stop right where we are and have a long hard look at ourselves - and start doing things differently.
On another level - well, NO - church isn't for her - or for me - or for my godson, who's nearly 3, nor even for lovely M., in her 70s, and a lifelong servant of her parish church and the community beyond it.
If by "church" we mean what happens on Sunday mornings at 10.00 - then actually it's not for any of us.
We go there to worship GOD - and it's sometimes rather too easy to let the agenda slip into "going to church for reassurance/friendship/education" - all good things in themselves, which will in different measure be part of the church experience - but which aren't the core purpose of that time we spend within the walls every week.
There are some other things that I'd take issue with in A's post.
For example, I did indeed find myself as the only mum with small children in a local church told that if I wanted any provision for them, it was up to me to provide it - and provide it I did (and from that all sorts of things grew over the years - but that's another story).
And there is, I'm afraid, truth in the saying that "like attracts like".
For whatever reason, outside the urban centres it seems very hard for churches to attract young singles.
At that stage of my own life I was living in London, and attending church as a chorister - so I had a ready-made social circle based around singing.
We spent lots of time together, with pub as an essential postlude to choir practice, Sunday Mass and Evensong - and friendships flourished in that context so that eventually we formed our own under 30s study group, thus giving us another opportunity to meet up in the week. That wasn't laid on by the church - I don't even remember whether any of the clergy attended, though we did have 2 young curates at the time...but for a while that group met our needs til we began to move on in our lives and out of London.
I tend to think of that as in some ways my "golden age" of church membership but from what I remember of my view of the pews, there were very few young adults even then, beyond those whose partners were part of the choir.
At St M's now we do have clutch of thirty some-things in the congregation (something that just wasn't the case a few years ago) they are nearly all parents - so it's that much harder for them to join in any evening activities, or to commit to anything beyond the demands of work and family life - even though they may well aspire to that sort of "whole life" community that is often labelled new monasticism. So - though they are there, they aren't going to be much help for A., as she searches for authentic community - and that's a shame.
Which means that, though I long to produce a ready-made source of like-minded souls from her generation - it's just not going to happen. Mostly church IS messy...full of haphazard relationships, unlikely friendships that force you to reframe your own sense of self, or, more crucially, to leave that sense of self at the door as you focus on what you can offer to another in faith, hope and love.
But of course she is right that we all have a mutual responsibility to one another - that if we're not doing enough to make any particular constituency feel welcome, then we are failing in hospitality, - one of our key Christian callings.
And of course, that applies to more than any particular age group.
We won't find a perfect church that meets the needs of all of us - and sometimes it's more important to say, in a kind of JFK way "Ask not what your church can do for you, but rather what you can do for your church" - but we do need to take seriously our calling to model God's inclusive welcome in all that we say and do and are...
The House of Bishops seem to see this rather differently from this very ordinary parish priest - and I do know that the responsibility of holding things together is apt to take its toll. I'll never forget how it felt when I found myself wearing +Michael's episcopal ring during a training event. I blogged about it here
and need to re-visit the experience whenever I'm feeling specially frustrated or impatient.
But it seems to me that the most recent "Pastoral letter" (which seems so very FAR from pastoral that it is in danger of redefining the word in an almost Orwellian way) has taken things in a new and rather alarming direction. Though the Pilling report opened the way for a period of dialogue, it's hard to see what conversation is possible now. There have been many responses in the past week, from those with a much more personal stake in the discussions. The legal situation has been analysed, the personal impact dissected and one wonderful blogging friend wrote a letter that I would love to have penned myself.
Since then, some bishops have manned the barricades for the sake of the poor - challenging the culture that divides society into deserving and undeserving in a way that would see us back at the Elizabethan Poor Law before we've turned round twice...
And I've remembered that this "being Church" thing is nothing like as straightforward as turning up on a Sunday morning.
It's not about St Matthew's, or the diocese of Gloucester or even about the whole C of E. It's not about what we do together in worship - though that's part of the story, of course.
Rather it's about our attempts to live as signs of God's kingdom...stumbling, imperfect, disappointing signs, but doing the best that we can.
So - I'm turning again to some words I sang first at Greenbelt, words which are now a kind of personal creed.
This is where I stand.
This is the Church that I long for.
I love that just and unjust are equally welcome.
I've no idea what it would look like on a Sunday morning, whether A. would find kindred spirits, whether the noise of the children would distress the elderly who can't hear so well, whether we'd FEEL as if we were "getting it right".
I just know that this must be what "inclusive Church" is really all about - and one day, by God's grace, it will come to pass.
For Everyone Born, a Place at the Table
For everyone born, a place at the table,
for everyone born, clean water and bread,
a shelter, a space, a safe place for growing,
for everyone born, a star overhead,
and God will delight when we are creators
of justice and joy, compassion and peace:
yes, God will delight when we are creators
of justice, justice and joy!
For woman and man, a place at the table,
revising the roles, deciding the share,
with wisdom and grace, dividing the power,
for woman and man, a system that's fair,
and God will delight when we are creators
of justice and joy, compassion and peace:
yes, God will delight when we are creators
of justice, justice and joy!
For young and for old, a place at the table,
a voice to be heard, a part in the song,
the hands of a child in hands that are wrinkled,
for young and for old, the right to belong,
and God will delight when we are creators
of justice and joy, compassion and peace:
yes, God will delight when we are creators
of justice, justice and joy!
For just and unjust, a place at the table,
abuser, abused, with need to forgive,
in anger, in hurt, a mindset of mercy,
for just and unjust, a new way to live,
and God will delight when we are creators
of justice and joy, compassion and peace:
yes, God will delight when we are creators
of justice, justice and joy!
For gay and for straight, a place at the table,
a covenant shared, a welcoming space,
a rainbow of race and gender and colour,
for gay and for straight, the chalice of grace,
and God will delight when we are creators
of justice and joy, compassion and peace:
yes, God will delight when we are creators
of justice, justice and joy!
For everyone born, a place at the table,
to live without fear, and simply to be,
to work, to speak out, to witness and worship,
for everyone born, the right to be free,
and God will delight when we are creators
of justice and joy, compassion and peace:
yes, God will delight when we are creators
of justice, justice and joy!
Shirley Erena Murray
Words © 1998 Hope Publishing Company
Words © 1998 Hope Publishing Company
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