THIS UNBEARABLE HOLIDAY: HESITATING | DAVID BRACEWELL

“I was glad when they said to me, let us go to the house of the Lord,

our feet are standing in your gates, O Jerusalem.”

(Psalm 122. 1,2)

I’m thinking about church now and then. I get ‘church now’ as we explore new ways of being God’s people in the shadow of the pestilence, but I’m a bit worried about ‘church then’ when the time comes for normal service to be resumed. What worries me is that normal service may never be resumed. The pestilence is likely to prevent us being together for a very long time and then when we are together we may not be able to sing for fear of what such forceful exhalation might do. What would two hundred people singing behind face masks sound like? But I’m also worried that when we come together again virtual church might be offered as a permanent alternative to real church. I can see the arguments. Streaming our services is bringing the gospel to many who would not enter a church building: the elderly, the infirm, the disillusioned, or the terrified. For some people, many people perhaps, to continue worshipping as we do at the moment would be a godsend so to speak, and for that reason alone it will be good to continue. I do understand. But I’m still a bit uneasy.

I worry that online services could become a comfortable escape from the real thing, playing into the self-centred mood of our culture. I can dip in when I want, where I want and for as long as I want. And if I can dip in, I can dip out. So somehow the pathway between ‘online’ and ‘in person’ needs to be clearly defined, carefully signposted and passionately advocated. Because online is not the real deal. It really isn’t. Any more than looking at my grandchildren through the window is a substitute for giving them a hug. I suspect I’m sounding stuffy and I know I do have an aversion to technology, but I can’t help it.

So I find myself dreaming about church buildings! I never thought I would be arguing for their importance having declared for years that the church is not a building but people. That’s fundamental. But the Greek word (“ekklesia”) originally referred to any assembly of people (Acts 19.39). When people assemble they need an enclosed space, especially in England in the depth of winter! The building where you gather may be a school assembly hall or a leisure centre or a theatre or a traditional church building, but it is significant and special, not in and of itself, but because it is the place where discipleship is nurtured and expressed. It is holy ground. The building is not, or should not be, simply a place to worship in but a place of worship.

Sue and I have been worshipping for only eighteen months in Derby. St Werburgh’s is a large Anglican church which until three years ago had stood derelict (apart from a short period when it had housed a Chinese restaurant!) Now it is a place of worship. It has been turned through 90 degrees, the east end now housing a large kitchen serving a café and welcome area. At the west end there is a stage from which a band, trailing enough wire to electrify a small village, leads worship, communion is administered and the Word of God faithfully preached. So it is not your traditional Anglican church, but I love it, I’m missing it, and I want to get back into it. ‘I was glad when they said to me, let us go to the house of God…’ A much loved friend, Kate, wrote this: ‘Thrown back on my paltry reserves of spiritual power, I find I miss corporate Sunday worship deeply, as well as the fellowship generated by this disparate, slightly chaotic bunch of people who stimulate and fire the life within.’

Some of this brooding has been fuelled by what I see as an over-zealous compliance by the Church authorities to follow government guidelines. There was, from the beginning, an unseemly rush to lock church doors and now an irksome reluctance to open them again, even a tiny bit. There was a bizarre instruction from one Diocesan office saying that one vicar and one other person (but not a curate) could enter their church but on no account to hold a prayer meeting. Pardon? Do these people understand the impression they are giving? For heaven’s sake our church building is like a mini cathedral. You could get scores of people in there with no danger of breaking distancing rules. We can queue for four hours outside Ikea to buy a flat pack Billy bookcase but not enter the church to pray. Words fail me. And I am talking about a city centre church where there is more risk. But what about the countless village churches across the land where people- dislocated, lonely, bereaved, bewildered- could just slip in to pray. And if there was still a risk, it would not be difficult for church officers to man the door to keep order. I don’t think your average village church would have to handle crowds of people jostling and pushing to gain entrance. Come on, Bishops. Get a grip and let us in.

Well, I’m glad to get that off my chest! There’s a verse in the book of Hebrews which says, “Don’t neglect to meet together” (10.25). We haven’t been neglectful, this absence has been forced upon us but before long we will need to find ways of coming together. In all walks of life there will be the same challenge, in shops and offices and schools and stadiums. Most of the Church of England, sadly, will have little trouble since 75 % of churches have less than 60 people attending.

For larger congregations there will be bigger challenges. Maybe a congregation of 200 could hold 4 different services of 50 people during the week. Our lovely friends in Guernsey are starting “church at home”. Small gatherings of people in a bubble to meet each week in designated houses. So many possibilities. “We’ll meet again.” Now who said that I wonder!

“God of pilgrimage,

bring us with joy to the eternal city

founded on the rock,

and give to our earthly cities

the peace that comes from above;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.”