The second of the series of October sermons about St John's Church, its community, the challenges it faces, both for the community and for individuals. Here we begin to think about what happens in the church and what it means to St John's people and what a visitor might make of it.
‘You’re going to ask me the questions I can’t
answer,’ I said, to start the ball rolling. ‘It’s much easier for people to
criticise from the outside than for us to keep going on the inside.’ That’s how the discussion got going following up my earlier conversation with another friend and
former colleague who had been gently challenging about the church in general
and St John’s as part of it. ‘So,’ she continued, ‘what do you think about the
situation for St John’s congregation at present?’ How about that for a first
ball fast yorker! ‘I’m glad we are just having a conversation,’ I replied,
‘I’ll probably say things I wouldn’t dare to say in a sermon. You know, it’s
not what I think that is the
important question. It’s what everyone together thinks. We should look around
and see what is going on. For example, we have a very active and dedicated core
membership. It is as strong as anywhere and nothing would happen without them. Looking
more widely, I know that it can be depressing when we see relatively few people
in a large church, but if we think about that all the time we will just freeze.
We have to make sure we are focussing on our core activity.’
‘What do you think the core is?’ she asked. I
thought of replying, ‘what do you think?’,
but I thought that would be too flippant, so I left a few moments to allow the
question to mature in the mind and then offered an answer. ‘When you talk to
people outside the church, as we did last week, they will often say that it is
about being good and following rules. Many people in the church fear that may
be the case too. But here we are clear that we do not start there. What
distinguishes the church from everyone else? Anyone can try to be good and kind
and helpful if they want. The difference of course is that we do it in a
different context, the one offered by God through Jesus Christ. That’s the
story we tell to each other every week. St John’s is a place of prayer and
worship, as it has been for centuries, and everything we do flows from that.’
‘But that’s just the thing people outside the
church don’t understand,’ she said, insightfully picking up the
theme of my previous conversation. ‘It makes no sense to them.’ ‘I agree,’ I
replied. ‘Church going these days is counter cultural. And we spend a lot of
time working out for ourselves how everything fits together – that’s part of
our prayer – and we don’t expect to find complete solutions either. But even
though people want that certainty, it’s not the point. We are simply called to
go deeper into God, as Bishop Alan would have us call it, and we are called to
do it together.’
‘So you think church is a community thing?’ ‘Church
has always been a community thing. It began with people coming together with a
new way to live their lives, and, passing over centuries of history, that’s
what it has returned to now, much more like the early years of the church than
recent centuries. We find ourselves in a minority which is not understood, so
we really do depend on each other. This is very important. Whenever we come to
church we are saying yes to God and to everyone with us. We support each other
just by being here. And it’s a good thing to do, as scripture confirms in the
Psalms:
I was glad
when they said to me, let us go into the house of the Lord.
And: One
thing I have asked of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the
house of the Lord all the days of my life; to behold the beauty of the Lord and
to seek him in his temple.’
‘That’s what we do here. Whatever else happens,
prayer and worship, sustained by this community must continue. We, the
community will in turn be sustained by it. It’s the energy source for
everything we do.’
‘It sounds a bit simple and not very worked out,’
she commented. I partly agreed. ‘I don’t think we get given a detailed work schedule
planned months into the future. It can seem trivial to say, but the way ahead
is not always clear. It requires patience and faith to discern where we are
being led and a sort of stubborn persistence as we keep going. The life of
faith individually and as a community is like that. Much of the time we don’t
see more than a step or two forward, but that’s all right if we continue our
life together in the Spirit.’
‘Do you really think it makes a difference here at
St John’s?’ she asked, perhaps sceptically but also thoughtfully. ‘Certainly.
You can’t always put your finger on what it is, but very often when you go into
a holy place you know it, you can feel it. That’s what St John’s can be like.
Any visitor coming in from Monks Rise should be struck by it.’
‘I think I know what you mean,’ she nodded gently
in agreement, ‘but St John’s is rather hidden. Not many people find their way
in.’ ‘I think that will change,’ I replied, ‘as we increase the number of
events here people will be coming from every local corner. And when they walk
in they will say, as many do “what a beautiful place”, and then they might just
begin to ask themselves why, what is it that is beautiful and peaceful about it, and they
will see some hints around them. They may want to light a candle. Children
often get their parents to do that.’
‘I’d love them to be led to thinking something like
this. It’s based on a meditation I found visiting an abbey church in Germany. I
found it very moving so I’ve translated and edited it for St John’s. Imagine
coming into the church, sitting down in one of the many quiet corners and
reading and thinking through this:
Now
I'm sitting here in this church.
It has
become quiet as I have come in. Old and new things surround me. There is a lightness
in the new and stillness in the old.
I've
come in away from the main roads and routes of Welwyn Garden City. The church
is hidden away where it has been for centuries, and for all that time people
have come here to pray…
It is
good to be able to rest here. I find myself thinking of where I have come from:
of all of today's business, of my work, of my family. Here in this church I can set everything
down. Every burden and care I can leave behind. I know I am lifted up. I am
able to rest. I am thankful that there are people here who look after this
place of stillness.
Whether
I am able to stay for a short or long time I sense that things are different.
From a place like this I can gain a new perspective.
Here
the old meets the new in a place of rest.
Father,
I am on a journey. People share my journey with me, some who have already
accompanied me just for a time and some who continue to travel with me. I think
of them too in these quiet moments.
I leave the church with a
happy feeling. These few minutes in this quiet corner of Hertfordshire have
helped me. May I continue to find these moments of peace and stillness which
offer help, support and the opportunity of a new beginning.
No comments:
Post a Comment