Uniforms and Dressing Up

Anyone who knows me at all will be well aware that I have never been a great fan of dressing up. I never feel very comfortable wearing a suit, which may be due to me having to wear school uniform throughout my time at secondary school. Back then in the 70s, all my friends at the local school were free from such dress codes! That's why I have always found it rather ironic that I ended up with a calling and a role that required me to wear various ecclesiastical garments in order to officiate at public services of worship in the Church of England.

Since theological college days, I have frequently met people who got very excited about the designs of their stoles, cottas, chasubles and such like - terminology that I am sure mystifies anyone outside the church community (and many within it!) My own attitude has always been that the uniform comes with the role, and therefore being ordained in the C of E carries with it an expectation to wear it (there is some flexibility these days) In a previous role I visited a lot of churches, and it only seemed courteous to wear whatever they expected me to wear.

There is, however, one exception to this rule, and here it is:

Last Sunday was Pentecost Sunday, when churches that use colours wear red. Each year since Debbie died, it has given me an opportunity to wear one her stoles that I kept. My first Sunday back after her funeral was Pentecost, and I chose to wear it then, and I have done on that day ever since. It was made for Debbie and given to her just before she was ordained deacon in 1990, and it became more significant when she wore it 30 years ago when she was in the first cohort of women to be ordained priest. We had moved from Southwell Diocese just after Easter that year, so she missed the big ordination of women candidates in April 94 in Coventry Cathedral. However, an extra service was arranged for her on June 11 at All Saints' Church, Leamington Spa, along with another colleague who had also missed out . Far from being a disappointment, I know Debs found it a very special moment. With the 30th anniversary of the first ordinations of women being marked this year, I was always going to wear it on Sunday.

Debbie in 1994 - with baby due in about 2 months!

Reflections on a second lockdown

On Saturday night a priest posted that one hour after the new restrictions were announced, Anglican Twitter was looking for loopholes. It started me wondering why, and caused me to scrap what I was going to say in my All Saints' Day sermon and hastily put something else together. The problem (as with many arguments between clergy - especially online) is that several issues get bundled up together in one argument, and we sometimes talk across each other, rather than tease out a question. The same thing happened during the earlier lockdown, which I wrote about at the time.

This time around, I have noticed three themes cropping up regularly:

• Churches need to meet for congregational worship (and many focus on holy communion here) in order to nurture the spiritual lives of their people. Suspending services will be detrimental.
• A resistance to the government telling the church that it can't meet for worship, along with criticism of the C of E bishops for not protesting loudly enough. Faith leaders, including the Archbishops of Canterbury and York have now written a joint letter on this subject, which you can read here.
• Concern that lockdown will have a damaging impact on all aspects of the well-being of our society. 

First of all, it is undeniable that these concerns are not trivial; they are real and substantial. As a parish priest I would much rather be in a context where we could be running a full range of services of worship, Messy Church, Toddler Praise, and our drop in tea and cake session for older people, etc. It would be great to see the cafes and pubs open and thriving, and people secure about their futures. I don't want to live in lockdown any more than some of my more vociferous colleagues, but unlike them, I do think it is a necessary evil.

Let's consider those concerns. Earlier in the year, churches went without meeting from mid-March until services began to resume in July. We missed some of the most important celebrations in the Christian year - Holy Week, Easter, Ascension & Pentecost. Here at St Nicholas' we maintained a weekly online worship, we emailed, phoned round, and also posted services, messages and prayers. We ran quizzes, prayers and courses on Zoom, and when we were able to come together again, our numbers were soon getting back towards normal, with a few vulnerable people staying in touch watching the recording of the service. 

This time around, the lockdown will cover 4 Sundays, unless circumstances require an extension, and the terms are somewhat less strict than last time. Clergy can still go into their buildings to record services, and funerals are permitted in our buildings. We can also continue to open up to enable people to pray. That is why I am struggling to see why this merits so much more protest than last time.

However, the problem now is that faith communities were not consulted, whereas during the first lockdown, the Archbishops saw cooperation as part of the national effort. That leaves me wondering whether 'this is not about that'. Perhaps the protests are less about the effect of suspending services per se and more about the lack of consultation, otherwise we should have been shouting much more loudly in March/April. I'll soon write some more about the issue of corporate worship and lockdown, but for now I would simply observe that faith communities proved very resilient during the long break. We share a sense that our security ultimately derives from something beyond ourselves and all of our activities or rituals.

Related to that is the unease a number of people feel about freedom to worship. A government banning gatherings for worship is not a comfortable scenarios, and in other contexts would be (and in some locations is) very sinister. However, despite my lack of trust in the Prime Minister in many ways, I don't think the elimination of faith communities is on his agenda. Places of worship are not being singled out here - lots of other clubs, associations, businesses and activities are also affected. The issue for us to watch is that, once the emergency is over, those freedoms are restored and full democratic accountability is back in place for this and future governments.

For me the biggest concern is the impact that lockdown will have on wider society. Businesses are in difficulty with jobs, livelihoods, and homes put at risk. Social life is effectively suspended, isolation inevitably follows, and with dark nights that is made all the worse. I fear that mental health problems will inevitably become more widespread as a consequence.

This latter point certainly merits some noise from faith leaders. There are some really good charitable efforts going on around the country to support people in all kinds of need at this time, including many originating in churches. However, it is government that can make the real difference - whether with meal vouchers, furlough, business support or boosting funding to mental health services. Holding our leaders to account for how they are sustaining our nation's life at this time is a crucial contribution we all can make.

For all my scepticism about the competence of our leaders, I am sufficiently convinced that infection rates are rising, and that without substantial action, the graphs for new infections, hospital admissions and ICU occupancy will go beyond what the NHS can handle. Lockdown is a very costly option, and whilst I think that action could have been taken sooner and for a shorter duration, I still believe that it is the best available choice in the circumstances. 

As I looked around my church on All Saints' Day I saw a lot of older people, some of whom have significant health challenges, and I was worried. Given the rapid rise in infection in our area, gathering them in a building was starting to feel like a risk we should no longer be taking. Yes - I'll miss us meeting together. Yes I'll miss sharing in communion. Yes, I'll find Zoom and YouTube poor substitutes for 'real' meetings, and yes I am worried for all the people who live in my parish. However, this may be the way to ensure that we are all around to meet again in a few weeks' time, when hopefully the risks will have reduced, and better measures are in place to detect and deal with infections.

Funerals, Churches and covid-19

You may have seen headlines about a letter written by Chris Loder, the Conservative MP for West Dorset, about resuming funerals in parish churches. It was signed by 35 of his party colleagues, and asks for the Bishops of the C of E to give permission for funerals to take place in church, in line with government guidance.

The first thing to say is that we would all like to be back to normal. I would rather have taken today's funeral in church than at the graveside. We want our buildings to be available to the communities they are there to serve. However, that can only happen when it is safe and practicable to do so, and pressure from a group of MPs is not a helpful contribution at this stage.

It's worth taking a look at the current guidance for managing funerals during the pandemic, which has been published by the government. It addresses a number of issues, including who should attend and the management of the 'venue'. The guidance (or are they really regulations?) make it clear that there are significant restrictions on who should attend, and that a series of hygiene and social distancing measures need to be in place at the venue.

Perhaps the place to start is about who can attend. Funerals are one of the few occasions when a small gathering of more than 2 adults can occur legally. The guidance says that numbers should be limited to ensure that 2 metres can be maintained between people:

"alongside the Funeral Director, Chapel Attendant, and funeral staff only the following should attend:

• members of the person’s household
• close family members
• or if the above are unable to attend, close friends
• attendance of a celebrant of choice, should the bereaved request this"

Round here, for practical purposes, that is being interpreted as 10 mourners at the crematorium or at the graveside (although in the latter case, I have spotted an occasional extra mourner standing at a significant distance in the cemetery).

I am told that some crematoria have security checking people on the gate, but thankfully that isn't the case where I am. However, there are full-time staff around if required to assist were there a problem. We have to anticipate the same scenario at a church door, should restrictions ease. Church buildings are often closer and more accessible to the bereaved than a crematorium, so more mourners might be expected to try and come. Someone has to enforce that at the door, and I don't relish the thought of anyone having to turn people away from a service in church - especially a funeral. I don't know who I would want to ask to do that. Funeral directors might oblige, but they are not members of or representatives of our church community, so if there was an issue about access, I'm not sure it should fall on them.

Then there is the issue of precedent. A blanket ban on all activity has the merit of being clear. Once the church doors are open for funerals, it inevitably begs the question as to why they couldn't be open for other services too. It is reasonable to argue a case for funerals as an exception to the rules, but it would increase disquiet about other services being blocked. Opening up churches has to be looked at as a whole, and not just on one specific issue.

The current regulations themselves lay down a whole set of conditions for the funeral ceremony venue, which all make a lot of sense. These include:

• "mourners who attend should be signposted to the advice on social distancing and that they should not attend the funeral if they are unwell with symptoms of coronavirus (COVID-19)
• venue managers should ensure that handwashing facilities with soap and hot water and hand sanitiser are available and clearly signposted
• venue managers should ensure that processes are in place to allow a suitable time to clean and disinfect the area in which the service has taken place both before and after each service, paying attention to frequently touched objects and surfaces, using regular cleaning products
• venue managers should consider how to manage the flow of groups in and out of their venues to minimise overlap between different groups and allow for adequate cleaning
• venue managers should maximise ventilation rates of the premises by opening windows and doors where possible."

A minority of C of E churches will be able to cope with this fairly well - especially churches which are physically large, have a good set of loos, and paid staff who can police, usher and clean. But for many parish churches, that is a set of obligations they would struggle to fulfil.

For example, many church buildings don't even have windows that will open, or sinks with hot water (a cold tap in the vestry is sometimes all they have!). Smaller churches often have narrow aisles which will make getting in and out a slow and laborious process. Furthermore, the people who volunteer to assist at funerals as vergers, wardens and organists (and cleaners) in many churches are over 70 and so should be at home while the infection is in wide circulation (as well as those with health conditions). 

I am sure that some easing of restrictions on the use of church buildings will gradually come through over the next few weeks. That may include funerals, and managing expectations in the midst of all of that will be a significant challenge for clergy and church councils. Some churches will probably be able to do more than others for periods as we transition from where we are now to whatever the new normal will look like. We will also have to carry out thorough risk assessments on all of our activities (including services), asking questions that we never thought we would need to ask. 

The false assumption in the MPs' letter was that churches aren't already asking the questions as to how long these arrangements must persist. We ask them every day, but we also know that we have a duty of care for every gathering in our buildings (often of a vulnerable demographic). Church of England ministers are taking funerals in these strange circumstances every day, so we are painfully aware of the difference between this and what used to be normal. I've been impressed by how bereaved families have not only coped with, but fully understood and accepted the current situation. In all 6 funerals I have dealt with since lockdown, the families have been very helpful, cooperative and appreciative. But I wish I could have done more, and I wish the church building could have been an option, but it can't and shouldn't be until we know the risks have been reduced to a minimum.

Perhaps if Mr Loder and his friends had a chat with some of their local clergy, they might find it helpful in learning more about the challenges we all face in moving forward as lockdown eases, and a little more understanding about why the current measures are in place.

Church Buildings, Streaming and Lockdown

For about the last 40 years as a youth leader, ordinand and clergyperson, I've been constantly preaching the message that the church is not a building, but people. It's a jumping record (if you do vinyl) or a loop (if you're digital) that I intend to maintain whilst I am still capable of coherent speech. In fact, no-one ever really contradicts me, but in the way churches behave and prioritise their activity and energy, you might come to a different conclusion.

This has all come up again, because clergy have been instructed not to go into their buildings regularly - whether to pray or worship along, or to stream services online. In reaction, some go into their churches anyway, some have gone to significant lengths to make a room in their vicarage look ecclesiastical for streaming, some just keep their heads down, others of us have accepted that something more simple might have to suffice.

This has prompted a number of discussions on Facebook and Twitter, and some significant heat has been generated:

• about the importance of buildings as holy places
• about a sense that prayers / communion in a kitchen/living room/study are somehow less legitimate than those "in church".
• about streamed worship and what sort of church it creates / shapes
• about the authority of the archbishops to prohibit clergy from using the church buildings entrusted to them.

Buildings

Let's take church buildings first. It is clearly the case that specific, dedicated buildings are not essential for the church to be authentically the church. To say otherwise would be dismiss the life of the church in the early centuries of its existence, along with persecuted churches through the centuries, not to mention the many congregations (including in the C of E) which gather in school halls or community buildings week by week. There are many more pressing theological, ecclesiastical and social questions that are a much greater threat to the church's legitimacy than the buildings being utilised.

That's not to say that buildings are irrelevant or trivial, but they are not an end in themselves, and they are not fundamental to the church's being. At a practical level, a church building is useful - it's a venue, it's a known location, and usually provides an instantly recognisable location and focal point for identifying the church's presence. And that has a profound symbolism - church buildings are often viewed with affection by the local community because of its associations with sad and happy memories in the lives of their families and friends. Go to any churchyard on a fine day, and you'll probably see others placing flowers, looking for their ancestors or just remembering. This can have a profound meaning - especially in communities where generations of the same family have lived.

At an aesthetic level, Church buildings can be beautiful symbols and pointers to the beliefs of the community that use them, and to the God who is worshipped within them. Some of the greatest art, sculpture, architecture and stained glass have been created to that end. The 800th anniversary of laying the foundations of Salisbury Cathedral has just happened, and that's an example of a structure that for many points not only to the sky, but also to God himself.

The trickier bit is when people start to talk about sacred space, so-called 'thin places', or stones that have been prayed in for a thousand years. Anyone who has been to an ancient Christian place of pilgrimage or spirituality will appreciate this. I have had that sense visiting Lindisfarne and Iona, for example, but even in these cases we need to be careful. Are we saying that somehow God is more present in these locations, or that the barriers are thinner or lesser?  Are we finding that these locations are especially good at helping us discern the God who, in fact, is just as present everywhere else? To put it more technically, is there something ontological about a 'holy place'?

My own view is that there is nothing ontological about holy places, but the significance of the events that created those locations in the first place, and the long history of pilgrimage, worship and devotion around them creates its own dynamic of expectation and receptivity. People certainly seem to have experiences of God in a closer and more immediate way in these places, but that doesn't mean that they are intrinsically different to anywhere else. Don't get me wrong, I don't see the experience of sacred space as insignificant, but it shouldn't create a spiritual hierarchy in our heads that effectively says God doesn't turn up in certain places, or at least he turns up in a superior way in some places, rather than others.

Coming back to today's debate, it is undeniable that many church buildings are very helpful in preparing people to pray, in providing visual symbols, pointers and signs for worship, and being places of encounter. Having said that, in my 8 years as a stewardship adviser, I met a number of vicars, church wardens and treasurers of village churches, who would have been glad to be rid of a listed building with a 6-figure repair bill so that they could meet instead in the village hall.

I have also been reflecting on whether the passions circulating about buildings also have something to say about our own faith development. It's probably fair to say that the most significant moments in my own faith and in discovering my vocation happened on CYFA ventures in hired school premises, or in youth group meetings in church halls. Over the years, I have been aware that I don't associate church buildings with important formative moments or key periods in the development of my own faith. As a result I have had to listen carefully and learn about people's love for, attachment to, and sensitivities about church buildings in order to understand and engage with their spiritual life, but it doesn't come naturally to me.

More positively, I see the current restrictions as an opportunity to rediscover God in everyday life, in people, and in unlikely places - even my study. After all, although Jesus did spend time in the Temple, he invested an awful lot of it in other people's dining rooms, and the eucharist was not instituted in a church or temple, but a room borrowed for a group meal. Perhaps there's something new for all of us in that.

Streaming

I saw a Twitter conversation about the term 'virtual worship'. I think one of the official C of E channels had used the term, and some people felt it suggested a contrast between online and 'real' worship. Obviously there is a difference in the means of delivery of worship, but how has that changed our experience and engagement with worship.

As a minister, my experience is primarily in putting together and sharing online worship. The thing I am missing is probably best summed up with the word rapport. There is the absence of the more formal liturgical response - no "and also with you" or "amen" can be heard in from of my computer. I miss the nods and smiles when I welcome people to services; I miss the occasional chuckle or even comment back during sermons; I miss the handshakes of the Peace, I miss placing holy communion in people's hands, and sharing in singing together the songs of worship. Facebook Live, YouTube and Zoom can compensate for some of that, but it's not the same. If you're not religious, compare having a coffee, a meal or a drink with your mates on Zoom versus sitting with them in the cafe, bar or restaurant.

Of course, in church we're also asking questions like "is it real worship"? I think it is "real" whenever people sincerely engage with it wherever they are, but whether it could ever be normative is a different question. As it's all very new and feels a strange and temporary way of being, our little YouTube sessions feel like a stop-gap measure. Involving others in online worship is more complicated, and requires a certain amount of technical ability and resources. I have been keen not to end up doing "the Mike Peatman show" on a Sunday, but avoiding that has resulted in me having to spend more time with iMovie. Furthermore, we have to remember that significant numbers of churchgoers are either not online at all, or don't feel confident enough with technology. We are currently sending out prayers and sermons on paper to 14 people, which is about 1/3 of our regular congregation.

I haven't gone down the line of streaming communion services where I am doing it on my own. There is a theological justification for doing a 'solo' communion - joining in the worship of heaven and the worldwide church, and for my more catholic colleagues it is an offering for the church and the world whether present or not. For me any celebration of communion is a corporate activity - I don't celebrate the eucharist, we celebrate it and the priest presides at the celebration. With no people physically present in the room, that sense is diminished, as well the fact that no one else can contribute in sharing the liturgy, readings, prayers or anything else involved without a level of multi-camera tech I don't possess. Just as with the other streamed acts of worship, I have a discomfort with worship where the human focus is on one person.

Authority

This is going on a bit, so I'll be quicker here. The debate around restrictions sometimes explicitly, and sometimes more subtly raised the questions of authority. The law says that a minister of religion may leave their house to go to a place of worship. It doesn't say just for special occasions, checking the building or for emergencies. Legally clergy can go to their churches to pray on their own, and I presume they could stream a video of it as well, provided they were alone. [Of course the safety of lone working then becomes a question!]

However, the Archbishops have issued two statements here and here making it clear that clergy should not use their buildings. Challenged on Andrew Marr, Justin Welby said that it was guidance, not instruction, although the first letter says that churches "must now be closed not only for public worship, but for private prayer ".

This was bound to activate all the clergy who don't like getting any guidance/instructions from their bishops, even thought they are often the ones who complain about the lack of leadership. However,  there are real problems here. I'm not a church lawyer, but I doubt that Archbishops can easily override the legal right of clergy to prayer in their churches - and what the Archbishop said on the Marr show would support that.

With this perceived uncertainty, there are now letters getting signed about letting clergy back into their churches. Given that it's probably riskier going to Morrison's than to an empty church, personally I don't see why they shouldn't if they really want to; it's already legal.

Rounding Off

There's also a pressure to allow funerals in church again. That's harder, as once church is open for something 'public', it sets a precedent, and also places churches in the role of policing what appropriate social distancing means and potentially having to turn people away at the door.

What has become clear is that covid-19 has shaken up our entire way of life, and the church has not been immune. Along with all other aspects of life, we have had to learn new things, and have perhaps been reminded of the importance of community and relationship in a fresh way. We need to turn our energy away from claiming our rights within the life of the church, and concentrate instead on what it means to be the church for the wider world in this time of crisis.

This time will pass, and many of our previous ways will return, and others won't and shouldn't. In the meantime we need to pray for the wisdom to know the difference between the two.

Annunciation

Earlier today I put a post on Facebook about this picture. I came across it recently at a gathering with my colleagues. Painted at the end of the 1470s by Messina, it depicts what Christians call the Annunciation - the moment when Mary received the news from the angel that she will  be the mother of Jesus.

I'm not an expert on art, nor am I from a church background that makes a lot of church festivals about the Virgin Mary, but I think this is great image. Far from being a meek and submissive image, Mary comes across as strong (and literate!) and attentive. Unlike many of the pictures painted of this scene, we do not see the angel; we only see light on Mary's face.

This strong woman, reaching out toward the light, seems like she has some control; she is not overwhelmed. Despite news which must have been incomprehensibly significant, she looks like she is deciding yes. In the gospel story, this is the start of light coming in to the world. Perhaps we need something of her faith, her hope and her strength to find some light in our own darkness.

Rob Halligan: Always Heading Home

Really looking forward to welcoming singer-songwriter Rob Halligan back to St Nick's, Beverley. It's free to come, but it would help to know numbers, so if you know you're coming, drop us an email at:

stnicksoffice@gmail.com, leave a message on 01482 863542 or book via Eventbrite here https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/rob-halligan-always-heading-home-tickets-89276104231 Rob returns to St Nick's, Beverley to perform songs and tell stories from his life. It's quite a story - including a period without a home, and losing his father in the 9/11 attack on the Twin Towers. Big themes in Rob's songs are forgiveness and the power of love to overcome bitterness and hate. Rob has also done work for Globalcare https://www.globalcare.org - a charity working with refugees in Lebanon on the Syrian border. Rob's set will include new material from his new CD Always Heading Home, as well as tracks from earlier albums. There will be an interval with a licensed bar, when you can have a chat to Rob and buy CDs and merchandise. There will be an opportunity to donate towards expenses, and any surplus on the night will go to Globalcare.

Ordination Anniversary

Today is a significant anniversary for the Church of England. It marks 25 years since the first group of women were ordained priest in Bristol. It marked the end of a strange transition time, as I had trained alongside women, including Debbie, and my year were all ordained deacon in 1990. The men were ordained priest in 1991, but the women weren't, as the changes had not yet gone through. 

Because of the timing of our move from Southwell Diocese to Coventry in 1994, Debs missed the big services in both cathedrals, but it worked out nicely as she and one other candidate were ordained at a special service at All Saints', Leamington Spa. As I was sharing here in Beverley the other day, Debs was 7 months pregnant at the time, and said Jono gave a big kick at the moment of ordination. You can see the 'bump' in the picture. That must explain why he now works for a church...!

It was St Barnabas' Day, 11 June 1994, so red stoles were worn. My first Sunday back on duty after Debbie died was Pentecost Sunday, when we also wear red, and this was the stole I wore. It's probably the only bit of clergy garb that really holds any significance for me - reminding me of her, and also that extraordinary day.

The following day, Debbie presided at communion at St James', Whitley - the first time a woman had ever done so, of course, and she also officiated at some other 'firsts' at other churches in the months (and even years) that followed. Back then it was all new, exciting and for some people deeply traumatic, but now it all seems very familiar and normal. 

Moving On and Best-before Dates

The whole process of changing jobs as a C of E vicar is a relatively long one, and when you know you have a job, there is usually a bit of a delay before an announcement can be made. So I have had to sit on the fact that I would be moving from Morecambe for about a month. I'm going to be vicar of St Nicholas, Beverley and half-time training adviser for the Archdeaconry of the East Riding. That's in the Diocese of York.

Letters have to be exchanged, and a new DBS certificate obtained (the latter being the main cause of the delay). In the meantime it's all kept confidential to a relatively small group of people until it can be announced officially in the old and new location simultaneously. It's an immense relief to have it all out in the open, so we can begin to work on the handover, and I can start to plan for my move.

A few people have asked why I am going, so I thought I'd blog a few thoughts about moving on.

After Debbie died, I remember being asked if I would move, and I knew at the time that I wasn't going to engage with thinking seriously about that for at least a year. You don't make good decisions in the midst of turmoil, and more importantly I felt that the church community and I needed to grieve and process what had happened together. From time to time I have seen jobs being advertised, and I had no interest in looking at them, so I knew that was the right instinct.

Then something happened which told me that things had changed. Someone I know referred to a post being advertised, and for some reason I took a look at it. As I did so, I realised I was beginning to take quite an active interest, and that I was thinking myself into the situation to see if it was a good fit. In other words, the prospect of moving on had taken a different character.

None of this was a negative reflection on my current church or parish - they've been great. I love Morecambe with its challenges, opportunities, characters, community and creativity. There are so many people, activities and places that I will miss, so it's not an easy decision. Plus it has one of the finest sunset views you'll get anywhere.

A snap I took last night

But it's now over two years since losing Debbie, and at some point I knew I had to make a new start. One of the features of being a clerge is that [almost always] you can't move house and stay in the same job, and you can't move job and stay in the same house. This big old house was a home for four of us and a dog, and now it's just me, except when Ellie is home from university, so increasingly I've felt a need to move on.

Besides that, I have always been very keen in all my appointments not to exceed my "best-before" date. Over the years, I have known a few clergy who weren't aware that they had, and it can have a detrimental effect on them and their ministry. My current parish has lots of good things going on, but I believe it now needs someone who can work with them on the next stage of development. For me to do that would effectively require me to commit to being here until I retire, and I know that wouldn't be the right thing. It's time for someone else with a fresh perspective to be involved in writing the next chapter for Morecambe Parish Church, just as I will be bringing a fresh perspective when I work with my new church at Beverley.

Underlying all of this is the very important principle that no-one is indispensable. That should be true for any organisation; it should be especially true for a church. As I said on Sunday, the life and ministry of this church doesn't depend on me, it depends on the God whose gifts we were celebrating at Pentecost.

Don Humphries RIP

It was very sad to learn of Don's death this week. As I look back over the time I have been in some kind of Christian ministry (as a lay assistant, then in training, then ordained for 25 years) his influence is probably the most significant. This isn't an attempt at a comprehensive obituary - it's about the person I knew.

Don at a Holy Trinity, Cambridge Church picnic around 1986/7

The first time I heard of Don was at our church youth group. The Sunday night meetings always ended with a time of open prayer, and some of the group members earnestly prayed for him for a few weeks. It turned out that he had had pancreatitis and major surgery. In 1978 I met him for the first time, when I went as a teenager on of the CYFA holidays [aka houseparties or ventures] that he ran. Based in a boarding school in Clevedon, hired during the holiday, it was a lot of fun, games, getting to know people, as well as talks and worship. I liked it so much I kept going - at different venues during summers and new year reunions. Eventually I ended up on the leadership team, and worked for Don from 1985-7, when he was at Holy Trinity, Cambridge. Part of my job was promoting ventures and organising them.

Looking back, Don was a fascinating character. He was full of seeming contradictions, yet when you got to know him, it all made a kind of sense. He could be quite a control freak, yet was willing to trust relative novices with big responsibilities. He could be dogmatic, yet had a team who represented a broad range of views and always warned against simplistic responses to complex questions. He wasn't beyond a sexist comment, yet became an early evangelical champion for women's ministry in the church, when it wasn't commonplace to do so. He was very open to the charismatic movement, yet never one for hype or pushing people to expect or have experiences of a particular kind. He could be quite intimidating, and some people were scared of him, yet he shared his vulnerabilities and had an openness unusual in strong leaders. It created a deep sense of loyalty, and the venture team have always felt like an extended family for many of us.

Don had more than his fair share of suffering - as well as the pancreatitis, I mentioned earlier, he lost a son, Thomas, at only a few weeks old. It happened during a venture holiday, and none of us who were there could forget it. Don and Zoe even came and spoke to help us understand what was going on. Later Don developed Parkinson's disease, which for a number of years didn't seem to diminish his enthusiasm for ministry. After he offered, I invited him to speak at the church where I was based in Coventry in the mid 90s for a special Harvest weekend. He also acted as a mentor for me for the time I was there, asking good questions and offering wise advice.

Latterly we were less in touch, but I got to his marriage to Sarah, and as Steve Tilley has also recalled, he memorably cut the cake with shaking hand he said "there may be casualties" - typical humour. I kept sending him a card and news at Christmas. He didn't always manage one back, but I know all of us who had grown up with his ministry were in his thoughts and prayers.

Would I be a Christian without Don's ministry? Probably - I already was when I met him, but his encouragement was key to me seeing faith as more than attending or 'consuming' what other people produced, and seeing it as something to inform, challenge and tranform you life. Would I have had confidence to take responsibility, do things up front and eventually move into ministry? Probably not. Don inspired, challenged, critiqued and supported many of us on that journey. For some it was to ordained ministry, but to others it was to being missionaries, youth workers, and perhaps most importantly to being Christians getting stuck in at their churches and in their communities.

Don's illness meant that he didn't have the career he might have expected, but his influence on the church may well be greater than some who achieved higher office. Those of us who knew and loved him will always have a deep sense of gratitude to all he gave us.

Big Sing with Alison Adam. Sunday May 17th at 3pm

This is just a shameless plug for the fact that we have Alison Adam coming to lead a Big Sing at Morecambe Parish Church on Sunday 17th May at 3pm. Alison is a long-standing member of the Iona Community, and has worked with John Bell with the Wild Goose Resource Group,

Come along and learn new songs from the Iona community and from around the world. You'll find yourself making more music than you thought possible. No previous musical experience required!

If you would like to come, please register, either by signing up in church, or by using the Eventbrite button below. You can also use Eventbrite to register for a number of people at once, so why not get a group together.

Resurrection and Rev

At least one person asked for a final blog post on Rev, and the final episode has now gone out, so here goes. If you haven't seen it yet, feel free to stop reading now.

To make a series about a vicar who didn't fit the classic TV types was an interesting move. As I said in my previous post, it seemed to have the effect of engaging a lot of people - both clergy who saw the parallels with their own experience of ministry (their own or colleagues they have know) and those beyond the church who warmed to a genuinely human vicar. It also portrayed him struggling with the challenges of a city parish, the pressures of the institutional church, the characters you get in a congregation, and his own battles of faith. 

Of course, it had to use caricature and stereotype for comic effect, yet they were just that little bit closer to the truth than many sit-coms. Colin was a classic case - lots of churches have a kind of Colin, a rough diamond who can't quite turn things round, but somehow has a deep connection with the place. In fact Rev wasn't really a sit-com at all - I'm not sure what the right term is, but it was both funny and poignant, rather like M*A*S*H operated for a much earlier generation of TV viewers.

There were some clever dramatic devices. I don't know of any clergy who have been literally dumped out of a taxi in the middle of nowhere by a senior staff member, but I suspect some fellow clergy know the emotional, if not the physical experience. A conversation that the person in authority wanted to end, not having really listened in the first place, and it was all settled without anything really being settled at all. 

I also suspect incidents that alienated some viewers were the very things that endeared the series to others. The lapses in behaviour, swearing, making mistakes, and general vulnerability all made Adam more approachable, yet they also attacked the idealised picture that a lot of people have about clergy (and some clergy have about themselves). And then there was 'the kiss'. Social networks got very active after that episode, and even Alison Graham in the Radio Times - hardly a squeamish type - described her profound degree of upset. Adam stopped being the kind of vicar she wanted, who represented a Church she didn't belong to and a faith she didn't hold, but which she wanted to be there.

I'd like to see the final series in its entirety again, as I want to spot the point where they start using the passion narrative - the story leading up to and describing the crucifixion of Jesus - as the template for what happens. There's a kiss, a washing of hands, and following rejection by all his friends, a cross-carrying and time of darkness. In the midst of that there's a vision of a Jesus-type character (played by Liam Neeson). 

The in-between days from then are a kind of hell as Adam encounters his former parishioners, and starts to go through a breakdown. The Archdeacon explores possible job moves, coming out with a classic line implying chaplaincy might be an easier option (it isn't, believe me). And despite all Adam's desire to run from the church, no other career option appears to be either viable or desirable. He has no heart for an interview, and the temp job at the newsagent only faces him with his old congregation. Eventually all he can do is curl up in bed. The prayers of the other characters are heard for the first time, too. The Archdeacon's prayer sounding like the Pharisee in the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax-collector was a classic, and everyone except Alex tried to justify themselves.

As in the Biblical account, the women stay active, and it's through them, especially Adam's wife Alex, that the 'resurrection' of Easter morning gets organised, along with the much-delayed baptism of their child. I rather liked the ending, although I know some people didn't. The church had closed, Adam was no longer to be their vicar, there was no going back, and the future was uncertain. Just like the resurrection in the New Testament. We don't witness any conversations of reconciliation (other than Alex forgiving Ellie for the kiss), but Nigel, the archdeacon and members of the church are all there around the brazier and the font.

Comedy can sometimes do the profound better than any drama. just think of Comic Relief, Blackadder 4, or the aforementioned M*A*S*H. It can create a different kind of connection with the characters that means that when it gets serious, it really gets to us. Rev managed to do that, whilst holding up a mirror to us about our beliefs, ideals and prejudices. It asked us about the authenticity of the person we present to the wider world, and that's why it was both uncomfortable but compelling viewing.

Getting Upset About 'Rev'

After yesterday's edition of Rev, there was a flurry of tweets, expressing sadness and disappointment about it. Avoiding spoilers, suffice it to say the episode highlighted many of Adam's weaknesses, both in personal relationships and in misjudging a situation. My question is why did people (especially fans thus far) get so upset?

Rev has acquired quite a following amongst clergy, and I suspect it's because the series breaks out of the mould of depicting the type of vicar character you get in Dad's Army, or played by Derek Nimmo. Adam seems a lot closer to reality and seems to share a lot of the dilemmas modern clergy face. The series is also devastatingly well-observed in its depiction of 'types' one encounters in the ministry. One flaw I am aware of is that all the female clergy have not been very positive examples (but then no-one comes out that well!)

Despite his mistakes, I think a lot of people developed a lot of empathy for Adam, and to some extent placed their hopes in him to convey a more positive and contemporary image of the ministry. This has clearly extended well beyond clergy who share Adam's style or churchmanship. I can only presume, therefore,  that the sadness and disappointment that came through from some on social networks was because people felt let down. Adam had failed them, or maybe the series had betrayed them. The empathy was strong enough for people to feel got at, threatened, or let down because of Adam.

I think we need a bit of a reality check:

1. Rev is a TV comedy. By its nature, comedy exaggerates and accentuates foibles, flaws and idiosyncrasies of the people it depicts. Miranda isn't a 'real' shopkeeper, many Home Guard were much more conscientious, capable and competent than Dad's Army, and so on. Just because the comic versions mess things up doesn't necessarily mean that 'real' ones do or did. It's comedy and it's fiction, but it draws on reality and stretches and distorts it to bring out the humour.
2. The show isn't a piece of Church of England PR; it's a TV show on the BBC. We can't expect the BBC to do our publicity for us - if we're worried people might get the 'wrong idea' of clergy from Rev, we need to get on with living out our vocations as well as we can.
3. A sitcom isn't a theology essay. I've seen people discussing Adam's prayers and the lack of references to God in the ecclesiastical conversations. As I have said, it's a comedy, so why should it be accurate. Of course there is an implied theology in the writing, but to be fair all too many 'real' meetings that I have been to about church policy, strategy and finance have made little or no reference to God, so that seemed quite realistic
4. The reality for clergy is that we will let people down. We can't do everything, or meet all of the expectations people have of us. Adam does this in what are sometimes spectacular and larger-than-life ways, but the experience is real enough. It's not always easy to watch, but we know the feeling, albeit on a smaller scale (usually).
5. Having said all of this, I suspect that Rev has made one TV clerge more accessible and easier to relate to than many fictional versions. Part of the reaction last night resulted from the fact that it's closer to reality than many, to the point that emotionally people felt it as real, even if rationally they knew it wasn't.

Clergy, poverty and moral authority

I was initially quite surprised by the tone of a recent article in the Independent. As a newspaper which is politically critical of the government, you'd expect it to be positive about others offering criticism. But no. There is a moderate defence of welfare cuts, coupled with a dismissal of the recent intervention by the Archbishop of Westminster and the recent letter signed by Anglican Bishops, Methodist chairs of district and URC and Quaker leaders recently published in the Daily Mirror.

One of the weaker arguments of the editorial is that the church leaders represent a "tiny fraction of the population", this coming from a paper with a circulation of a little over 70,000, when there are rather more than 1,000,000 attending the Church of England (not to mention our ecumenical allies).

However, this misses the point. The article also implies that the welfare cuts and austerity agenda are moral because they are endorsed by the majority:

"Is the pursuit of policies that are supported by the majority of the electorate of no value, for example? And would it be a more moral course to fail to tackle our dysfunctional welfare system and even more dysfunctional public finances, risking not only the standard of living of all but also the taxes out of which benefits are paid?" full article

Whether the majority of the UK population endorse current austerity policy is an interesting question in itself. Even if they did, this wouldn't automatically mean that such policies were beyond moral questioning. There have been times in our history when the prevailing view needed to be challenged. When those campaigning against the slave trade started, they were a small minority, but that didn't make their moral case invalid. Neither would it address the very real question of whether this government's austerity policy was the best way out of the financial crisis, but that's for another blog post!

I'd like to suggest that many clergy are actually remarkably well placed to comment on the effects of current policy on the poor. Many of us have people knocking on our vicarage doors asking for help with food, energy bills or clothing. It's hard to know what to do, and it leaves us all with a feeling of not doing enough. That's because clergy, unlike many other professionals, live in contact with people in need and live in the middle of the communities they serve. We meet people on the street, outside the school, in the pub and in the paper shop. That doesn't make us special - it just comes with the role. People come to the church with their needs, and we hear a lot about them, simply because we're here. Quite a few church leaders have been vicars and ministers in similar circumstances, and even if they haven't, the ministers they lead have plenty of opportunities to share and to show what is going on in their patch.

Perhaps the most instructive thing about the Independent editorial is that it indicates a shift in credibility and reputation for the Church, and especially for its senior leaders. When the Faith In The City report was published by the Church of England in 1985, it stung the government, and was welcomed well beyond the active membership of the Church. In the period when the Labour party was in turmoil, the Church was seen as providing genuine alternative critique and even opposition to some of the policies having a detrimental impact on the poorest areas of England, and by implication the whole of the UK.

I doubt that could happen now. Perhaps the decrease in church affiliation is part of it, but I suspect it's the public perception of the church's leaders that is a bigger problem. Some the scandals in churches over the neglect of child protection, the public statements on gay issues and equal marriage, and the endless Synod debates over women as bishops haven't commended us to the population as a source of moral leadership worth listening to.

This is a loss, as I think the contents of the church leaders' letter and the capacity of the churches to refer to real hands-on experience in communities across the nation would be well-worth listening to.

Here are the questions; what is the answer?

A little while back I went to a lecture by Professor Linda Woodhead at Lancaster Priory about the future of the Church of England. She was at an early stage in looking at the results of a survey of views and attitudes of people and the relation of that to their belief background.

Linda has now put a Powerpoint presentation online which she shared with the Faith in Research 2013 conference. You can download it here. There is no accompanying text at this location, but here's a quick first reflection.

1) The gap between the declared positions of churches on issues and the prevailing attitudes of their members is striking. Attitudes of Anglicans and Catholics to same-sex marriage was very interesting in the present climate.

2) When asked what was negative about the C of E in society, younger people said it was bigoted; older (over 60s) said it was stuffy and out of touch. My generation tended towards saying it was hypocritical.

3) It was striking how little church (or faith group) was an influence on people's attitudes at all.

It would be interesting to see a text of her presentation, and I'm still taking in what it all means. Interesting stuff.

Giles Fraser and Cheesus

Normally I enjoy reading or hearing Giles Fraser. He's usually challenging, often controversial, and never makes comfortable listening. It's very important there are people like that around, who don't accept the status quo, question everything, and are prepared to face some criticism for the stands they make. In the old days they called people like that prophets, now they call them loose canons.

However, I feel I need to respond to a recent short article he posted on the Guardian "Comment is Free" site. In it, he starts with a description of permanent-grin Christians for whom anything nasty or messy is something to ignore or deny. Many of us will have come across the type over the years - it's not a new observation in itself, and it's legitimate, though not particularly novel, to critique them. So far, we're on consensual ground. 

What troubled me was what happened next in the article. Fraser does two things simultaneously. He outlines what he sees as the theological root of this tendency - a failure to engage with the desolation of the cross. Put simply, there is a culture in some Christian circles that can't pause at Gethsemane and Good Friday, but has to jump to the "happy ending" of Easter Sunday. At the same time he describes Rowan Williams as having gravitas, but of Justin Welby he says "but I worry that he does have a slight weakness in that direction." Later on he can't resist noting that an important part of Justin's Christian formation was at Holy Trinity Brompton, a church well-known for its smiley nice Christians.

It seems to me that Giles Fraser's right rejection of what affects many evangelical Christians becomes prejudice, rather than analysis. I grew up in an evangelical church, and that was the place I found faith, and vocation. Many evangelicals wouldn't recognise me as one anymore, but that experience means I know that Christians bearing the 'evangelical' label are a diverse bunch. They range from fundamentalists to people like Steve Chalk and Benny Hazelhurst speaking out for equal marriage. They range from people who have a 'proof text' from the Bible for everything, to people who are recognised for their theological scholarship. Just because Justin Welby comes from a particular background, it doesn't mean he will fulfil the stereotype. Let's assess him on what he actually says and does, rather than what our pre-conceived ideas assume he will do.

In Fraser's passion to demolish what he call 'Cheesus' Christians (of whom the new Archbishop may or may not be one, according to his analysis), he also makes a remarkable assertion. He says of the people he is critquing "the cross of Good Friday is actually celebrated as a moment of triumph. This is theologically illiterate."

Giles, it may not be balanced, and it may not be the theological emphasis you or I would wish to major on during our Good Friday devotions, but the idea of the cross as victory is well-established in theology. It is not illiteracy. From the Gospel of John's account of Jesus referring to the cross as "glorification", to the final words from Jesus on the cross in John "it is finished", the roots of the idea are there. Giles Fraser will know the term "Christus Victor" and its association with a theological understanding of the cross as defeat of evil. (Ironically it was an Archbishop of Canterbury, Anselm, who played a significant part in replacing it as the dominant understanding of the cross) It is also explored in art, such as the triumphant Christus Rex figure in Southwell Minster, where I was ordained. The ambiguity of a triumphant figure with arms stretched out in a cross-like shape is the paradox of the piece. By all means call a triumphal view of the cross bad theology, theology you don't believe, but please don't call it being theologically illiterate, because it isn't.

Keep writing, Giles, and keep speaking. You challenge our complacency, and you say things that others aren't brave enough to name. Just don't get carried away with your assumptions about people, or groupings that carry certain ecclesiastical or theological labels. 

Related articles

• I bang my head against the wall when evangelicals turn Jesus into Cheesus | Giles Fraser
• Giles Fraser's attack on Evangelical Christians is both ignorant and unnecessary

Imagine The Future

I was in the thick of a meeting where we were trying to imagine the future of the Church of England might look like. Generally speaking, if you ask a C of E parish what they want for the future, they will try and envisage something rather like what they are now, but with hopefully some more new keen people who will help to make it happen. There might be a reluctant admission that they may have to share a vicar at some future stage, and under no circumstances would most congregations countenance the thought that their building might close.

So what might the future actually look like? The trends would suggest that there will be fewer clergy, general numerical decline in congregations, but with notable exceptions. We will probably see growth in non-conventional gatherings such as Messy Church and Café church. At some point, many churches may be forced to abandon their buildings by the cost of operating them, or adapt them substantially for shared use to share and/or offset costs.

My own hunch is that by the time I retire we will have substantially fewer communion services. Even now, many parishes have 2 or 3 on a Sunday plus at least one midweek. As the number of clergy authorised to officiate diminish, that will have to change. The only alternative is burn out the clergy (please don't), or authorise other people to officiate (controversial). We probably need to move to thinking of ensuring that there will be one service in reasonable range of everyone (e.g. within the distance people travel for shopping) each Sunday at a limited number of locations each week across a Deanery. They could move around each week, and at other locations a simpler act of worship / Bible study / Messy church etc could be taking place.

Church venues will change too. There will still be big specialist centres, which still attract significant numbers for high quality choral or formal worship - such as cathedrals, minsters and priory churches, or for contemporary worship with quality PA and musicians. Other church buildings will be doubling up as community centres, or other use, only hosting worship on Sundays and other arranged timings. Smaller congregations may have abandoned highly expensive buildings altogether and will be meeting in homes or hired rooms. Other churches popular for weddings/baptisms, etc may well still be thriving by focussing on that ministry. Yet other locations may still serve as sacred spaces or destinations for pilgrimage, and places for peace, quiet and prayer.

I don't think the C of E will have died out. Its expectations for the future and people's expectations of it will have to change and so will the clergy. We may even need some legal changes to free us to do what is necessary in terms of buildings and boundaries. But none of this need be fatal; in fact it may be liberating and help us to move forward in new and radical ways. The question is whether those who have the power to make real change have the courage to do so.

Anyone else up for it?

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Questions to Traditionalists

A couple of friends will, almost certainly, respond to this, but I'd be interested to hear from others, too. Having grown up in an evangelical Anglican church, I both know the arguments and understand the instincts of that constituency of the church, even though I'm no longer a card-carrier for that viewpoint. However whilst I have seen the arguments put, I have some unresolved questions about the traditionalist catholic position within the C of E, regarding the recent debate on women bishops etc. Now the dust is settling from Synod, I'd be genuinely interested to read some responses without it being a ding-dong battle.
My interest is around the what is usually called the three-fold ministry. Some churches which came out of the reformation, separated from what we now call the Roman Catholic church, retained the pattern of ministry of that church - i.e. they continued to ordain deacons, priests or presbyters, and bishops. The Church of England is one such church. As things stand, Anglican ordination is not recognised by the Roman Catholic Church, having been declared null and void in a Papal Bull called Apostolicae Curae in 1896. This continues to be the RC position, and those Anglican priests who have become Roman Catholics have had to be ordained again in order to serve as deacons or priests.

If I have understood the arguments correctly, one of the key concerns for traditionalists is to keep Anglican ministry as compatible as possible with that in the Roman Catholic Church, so that a formal reunion is still possible, with the aspiration that recognition of Anglican ordination might also be part of that. That being the case, my first question is why was there so little fuss when women were ordained deacon in 1987? If the three-fold ministry is that important (and the traditionalist position would say it is), then surely the admission of anyone to any of those 3 orders needs to be in keeping with Roman Catholic practise?

Ordaining women deacon caused a reaction at the time in terms of women being seen in dog collars, but there was no exodus and no structural provision for conscience. In fact Andrew Burnham, a leading traditionalist who was a 'flying bishop' and has now become a Roman Catholic, had a woman deacon on his staff when a vicar in Nottingham. If ordaining women as priests and bishops is seen as unacceptably moving us away from the historic churches (Roman Catholic and Orthodox) then it seems to me that the key moment was 1987. Either that or you have to say the diaconate doesn't matter as much, which is not the historic view of three-fold orders. (Conservative evangelicals could cope with women deacons, as it didn't place them in positions of authority, so women becoming priests/presbyters & bishops were the problem for them.)

The second issue is more about the aspiration of my traditionalist colleagues. I presume that the reason they don't just become Roman Catholics is that there is something about being Anglican which they would wish to retain if Anglicans were reunited with Rome. My question is what, exactly, would they hope to carry through into a church which came under Roman authority? Many traditionalist catholic Anglicans already accept Roman Catholic understanding on many theological issues, and many use Roman Catholic liturgies, so I imagine it's a hope of carrying the church community into formal unity and recognition. Perhaps there is also an aspiration that something of the Anglican experience, story and possibly even some liturgy, might find an accepted place in any future union. But I'm not clear on what that really means, and many of their fellow Anglicans, whilst keen on ecumenical cooperation in many areas, wouldn't accept all that being a Roman Catholic entails - which is why they're Anglicans.

The Aliens Test

I've been thinking about how we explain and explore the meaning of things we do in church. At our Baptism preparation evenings, I am aware that some of the people who come are quite unfamiliar with things we take for granted.

So now is the time to implement the Smash aliens principle. Back in the 70s, they were mystified why people would use potatoes when you can have instant mash. I was never quite sure why a chocolate company was making the stuff.

In our case the question is: how would you explain to the Smash aliens the fact that you choose to bring your child to one of the oldest buildings in the area, and have water poured on their head by a stranger?

Might be an interesting way to start the conversation!

Truth, Holy Truth and Statistics?

Ask most clergy, and they will say that congregational numbers aren't really what it's about. Scratch a little under the surface, and you'll probably find that they matter a bit more than they let on. My own view is that numbers aren't everything, but they are something.

When it comes to church membership statistics, the real problem is what figures do you look at? After all, my 8am 1662 communion grew by over 50% last week. 11 people were there, compared with 7 the week before. The facts were that someone was back from holiday, and someone else who normally comes at 10am came... you get the point.

One figure that is often used is the number of people who received communion (communicants in Churchspeak) In our church during Lent, that figure moved around erratically between just over 70 to well over 100 at our main 10am service. What does that tell us? Well, it's a measure of the number of people present who believed they were eligible to receive. It doesn't tell us how many adults or young people were there. On top of that, we have additional people receiving communion at 8am and once a month at 6.30, plus some people come twice. Then there are the people at the midweek service, including some who were there on Sunday and some who weren't. And today I gave 8 people communion at a little service in a nursing home (altogether we can sometimes provide communion for nearly 20 people in a month who don't make it to church). So how many per week communicants do we have? Not straightforward.

Then there's attendance. In October we take the official stats, and they can be helpful to monitor what's going on. Again, we have to filter out 'twicers' and include midweek. Then there's the question of how to monitor children and young people - separately or in with the adults? We also have to take into account fluctuations due to special services - main service baptisms, Harvest Festival, which might distort the attendance we would have had if it wasn't a special. [still with me?] This leads to a statistic called the Usual Sunday Attendance (USA), which was a kind of average of the Sunday adult attendance across all services, eliminating duplicates. Now, the weekly attendance is the more accepted figure, which takes into account those who attend midweek but not on a Sunday.

However, now that Fresh Expressions has led to new expressions of Church, such as Messy Church, Alternative Worship and other congregations starting up, often not on a Sunday, it's not so clear what the 'attendance' is. People at these new expressions of Church don't necessarily regard themselves as committed to the parish church that enabled them to come into being. Perhaps it all goes to show that however hard you try, measuring any kind of human behaviour (including worship) doesn't fit neat boxes or categories.

Even if you have a good sequence of stats, you need to be very discerning about what to read into them. For example, when I was in Coventry, I was 1/2 time priest-in-charge of a modestly sized parish. When I arrived the Usual Sunday Attendance (USA) was 38, by the time I left it was between 46 & 47. That's Ok - it's growth, albeit not very spectacular. However, when I looked carefully, I realised that during those 8 years a number of regular attenders had died, and a few people had moved away, totalling about 22 in all. That means that the 46 we had in 2002 only contained about 16 or 17 of the original congregation. That's nearly 30 new people in 8 years. Still not spectacular, but perhaps more substantial than the initial stats would suggest. Standing still would have been quite good going.

And even then we haven't got to the bottom of things. Nowadays, it's clear that a lot of people attend less frequently than was once the case. So quite a few churches have a growing 'pool' of churchgoers, but fewer in church on any one Sunday. To some extent, that seems to be the case in my present church, where our Electoral Roll (the nearest the C of E comes to a membership list) has grown and is now mainly people who come to church at least sometimes or receive home communion. Meanwhile attendance is fairly static. Is that growth, shrinkage or what?

Perhaps we all need to hold on to the fact that stats can be used to say most things in the hands of a clever statistician. The real job for the leadership of a church isn't spending all our time on attendance graphs, but being faithful in worship and prayer, listening for God's guidance and seeking to have a positive impact on our community.

A test of your metal

It was good to see some more coverage on the news today about the problems of metal theft. Churches are well-acquainted with this, with rising number of thefts of roof lead and the consequential damage and rising insurance costs.

However, it's not just a problem for churches. Other public buildings have also suffered, war memorials have been vandalised, commemorative plaques have been removed from cemeteries, and the ongoing transport disruption resulting from theft of cables from railways affects many people. The tragedy is that replacing the items stolen costs far more than the scrap value received for the metal.

One simple step to make life more difficult for the thieves is to make all money transactions for scrap cashless. This means that there is an audit trail for payments made for metal, which makes transactions relating to stolen metal more traceable. It won't solve the problem, but it should mean that such thefts are no longer such easy money.

It looks like government may act, either by supporting a Private Members Bill relating to this issue or by introducing its own legislation. If you would like to encourage this move, you can add your support via an online petition on the government website.

Related articles

• Police combat metal theft threat (bbc.co.uk)
• MP calls for radical measures to tackle problem of metal thefts (yorkpress.co.uk)
• Metal theft won't be stopped by banning cash transactions | Derek Campbell (guardian.co.uk)
• Scrap dealers urged to join police in new scheme to tackle metal thefts (menmedia.co.uk)
• 'Cash for scrap' could be banned (bbc.co.uk)