Tonight I want to share with you several comments people have made to me, and a few observations from a blog I read on the internet, as a basis for some thoughts on the life of our parish.
First of all, the good news! Archbishop Richard commented on his first experience of worship in our churches in January, that there was a real genuine warmth and openness in our worship. He said that wherever he goes he receives a warm and sincere welcome, but in some places that is not reflected in worship, which suddenly becomes stiff, formal and mechanical. Good news for us, so far!
The second comment came from someone who did not know our churches, and who joined us in worship one Sunday. The comment echoed very strongly the sentiments of the Archbishop, and described us as the most open, friendly, welcoming and relaxed Protestant gathering for miles around. Again a very positive reaction from a stranger. We have a lot to rejoice in and to be thankful for.The third comment came from married couple who have moved into a new area, one very similar to ours, a small village with a tight-knit community. They felt they were moving into a friendly community, and to a great extent they have. But as a couple in their mid-30s, they have found it very hard to get an opportunity to get to meet people and make friends. They have no children, so they don’t meet other parents at school functions. There are lots of organisations for young people, and for older people, but nothing much for their age-group. I tried imagining them into our community, our church, our village, and I was struck by how easily the same thing could happen here. You might think, no – but you’d be wrong. There’s a challenge for us as a church community – to reach out the hand of friendship to those who are lonely – and to really open our eyes to see who they are.
The final comment made to me recently was by a clerical colleague, who was reflecting on the Church of Ireland at large, “this is not the same Church I was ordained into 16 years ago”. When we talked for a while he explained what he meant, that we are loosing a sense of our identity as a Church. I’ve heard similar things many times. Another comment I have heard regularly was, “I went to the funeral, but there was nothing in it you would recognise as Church of Ireland, no psalm, no creed, no liturgy, nothing from the Prayer Book, just a few readings, hymns and prayers. We could have been in the Baptist or the Brethren.” The same is sometimes said of Sunday worship.
Are we having a crisis of identity as a Church? I’m afraid in many places we are. We are afraid to be distinct, we are afraid to be Anglican, we are afraid to be Church of Ireland. That brings me to the blog post I mentioned. It is called “Why traditional churches should stick to traditional worship”. Not an enthralling title, I admit, but the writer makes some very simple, yet profound, points. He says: “I’m a member of Alaska’s largest church… We meet in a cavernous, windowless room with stage lighting and two huge projection screens. We’re led by a rock band and a casually dressed pastor. The service lasts exactly 75 minutes. Our church draws a large crowd that attends sporadically… I like my church. But it’s … 26 miles from my house. So my wife and I occasionally worship at a small traditional church in our little town… We’ve been enjoying our Sundays there. The richness and rigor of the liturgy is refreshing after years of seeker-sensitive services. It’s an eight-course meal, carefully measured out for us by church fathers – confession, forgiveness, praise, instruction, communion, giving, fellowship and benediction. It’s like a spiritual multivitamin… The people are friendly…There is a healthy number of kids and young adults. The facility is well kept. The sermons are insightful. We love the depth of the hymns – and the people sing robustly…” Hopefully you’ve got a flavour of where he’s going. He goes on to describe their attempts at informal worship, and how it was actually offputting. “Once a month, this little church does a contemporary service. We were surprised – unpleasantly so. We arrived to find the pastor without his clerical robe. A projection screen had been lowered in front of the organ pipes. We sang praise choruses instead of hymns, led by a solo guitarist who had trouble keeping the beat. The congregation did not seem to know the songs, so they sang tentatively. On a positive note, the sermon was good as usual… but on balance, the overall quality of the service was not up to par. Had this been our first Sunday at St. Mark’s it’s unlikely we would have returned. So what went wrong? This little church was trying to be something it’s not.” His point is clear – no church can be all things to all men. Each church has a style, a nature, an identity, and that is something to rejoice, to treasure, to develop. Don’t be a poor imitation of someone else, be yourself. He doesn’t say don’t innovate – actually the opposite – do it, do it well, carefully and thoughtfully, within the bounds of your culture.It all connects with my friend’s despair over our crisis of identity as a church. We need to recover a pride in who we are, a love of our liturgy and way of worship, an understanding of how our past has shaped us as Irish Anglicans, and a vision to look to our future, not trying to copy the church down the road who seems to be attracting all the young people.
I like his image of a spiritual eight-course meal, that is something which resonates with me. We have a wonderful liturgy which has riches and depths which nourish our soul. We can allow the words to be a mechanical formula we walk through week by week, or we can allow each word, each phrase, each collect, each prayer to nourish us spiritually.The first two comments I shared with you challenge the notion, and it is only a notion, that liturgy is only a ritual. We already embrace all that is good in our worship without being formalised, stiff and lifeless – and that is something not just to treasure, but to develop. Our worship here in this parish is something special. After the confirmation service, I was surprised by the number of people who commented on the music. They all commented on how good it was, how uplifting it was, and how much effort we had put into it. I was pleased, but slightly surprised, because we didn’t make any special effort – in the sense of practicing new music, teaching things to the congregation or choir. It was just what we do week-by-week, Sunday-by-Sunday.
Not only is our music uplifting, the level of participation and engagement in worship is uplifting. When I go on preaching engagements to other churches, and when I am on holidays worshipping in different parishes, I am often struck by how flatly the liturgy is presented. Responses are mumbled through as if they are a painful exercise. Music is slow, lacking in life and vitality. In some places I have been left with the impression that worship is an endurance test. I leave church longing to come back to our parish and experience the vibrancy of our worship again.Having confidence in our identity as Anglicans – and our identity is bound up with the way in which we worship – leaves us free to engage in mission. If we are constantly looking over our shoulder at someone else, that drains our life, our vitality, our energy. If we know and love who we are, then we get on with being the Church which God calls us to be. We have many challenges in our mission in this place. We have had many baptisms, confirmations and marriages over the past years – and on every occasion every one of us promised to support those taking their vows and promises. We need to live out that promise to support them, to help them to take their place within the life and worship of Christ’s church. We don’t need to travel abroad to find a mission field to work in, we have one ready and waiting on our doorstep.
Sermons & meditations 