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On 14 July 1833 the Rev. John Keble gave the Assize Sermon at St Mary’s, Oxford, the University Church. Its title was “National Apostasy”, and it has usually been taken to mark the beginning of the Oxford Movement. Keble asked: “What are the symptoms, by which one may judge most fairly, whether or no a nation, as such, is becoming alienated from God and Christ?” Whatever the answer in his day, it would seem that the answer in our own time is obvious.
The challenge facing the Church in the West is a unique one. The literature on the unfashionable subject of “mission” and “church planting” mostly proceeds from the assumption that we are moving into areas where the Church has not had much, if any reach. What it does not generally do is deal with how to work in an environment which was Christian and where the Faith has been ebbing for some time, to the extent that in large areas the tide has gone out altogether. The difficulty there is that what is left on the beach is the detritus of anti-Christian polemic, aggressive secularism and the failure of the Church. In some senses, indifference is a worse enemy than active hostility, in so far as the latter is a sign that Christianity is to be challenged.
Our view of “mission” tends to be skewed by the Western experience, where missionary activity is seen historically as white people going out to convert non-white people, but that is a very small part of the history of mission. We have fogotten, if we (in the West) ever remembered those missionaries who went out along the Silk Road as far as China and established large and thriving Christian communities on the way. Indeed, if one placed oneself in the nineth century, one might easily have presumed that the area between North Africa and China would become the heartland of Christianity which was under extreme pressure in western Europe.
Keble’s fear of “national apostasy” came to realisation in a way that even the most pessimistic Christian could hardly have predicted. But we should beware of historical myths. Scholarship has shown that the Church of England was not the bloated and corrupt caricature which is sometimes assumed from the polemic of the Oxford Movement. The nineteenth century saw growth, not only from the Oxford Movement itself, but from other parts of the Church, and in some ways the most notable achievement of the Catholic revival in Anglicanism was what happened at parish level, although what is most often noted is the achievement in theological terms.
Which brings us full circle to now and to the challenges of a Church that is getting smaller and narrower. The idea of “hell” is not one which, outside certain Christian circles, has much purchase. One might say “so much the worse” for us, but emphasising that unless you believe in Christ you are going to hell is not, I venture to suggest, going to be a successful strategy for mission, quite apart from what that says about our view of God. If the reason we believe in God is that we are frightened of what He might do to us if we don’t … well an appeal to what sounds like an eternity of abuse because we deserve it isn’t saying anything very positive about Christianity. There will be some who think “tough”, but it’s not clear what their mission strategy is other than to welcome the “Benedict option,” which seems something of a cop-out from the Great Commission.
If in Christ we have “life abundant” then how does the Church reflect that? In the parishes of England priests inspired by the ideals of the Oxford Movement worked to make life better for their parishioners, recognising that part of that was to reflect the “beauty of holiness” in worship. Do we do that any more? How does going to Church elevate us? Does it elevate us? If not, what should and could we doing to change that? If Church is simply like a social club with added music and worse coffee, what in that would attract anyone to it?
At a time when Government in the UK has increasingly withdrawn from the expanded role it took on post-1945, what is the Church doing to move into the vacuums created? The answer here is more than one might think but less than it might, partly because there is no strategy. So, foodbanks have been a great initiative and the local Churches have played, not least in the current crisis,a notable role. When he was Prime Minister, David Cameron talked a lot, for a while, about the “Big Society,” but it came to little in practice. Is this not a role that the Church is well-placed to play. What can we do in those areas where the State is withdrawing or has withdrawn? How do we work in communities and what is our role in them?
Here there may be a salutary lesson, if we are humble enough to learn it, from the pandemic. We allowed the Churches to be shut as though they were not essential buildings for the community. If they weren’t, why weren’t they and how could we set about changing that? In the parishes run by clergy inspired by the Oxford Movement, as well as in circuits inspired by the Wesleys, church buildings were not just places of worship, they provided centres for community life.
On this anniversary of Keble’s call to arms, it’s worth reminding ourselves that throughout the world priests and laity are working hard to bring the Word of God to all who will receive Him and to acknowledge that work and pray for them and for the Church as we face the challenge of how to revangelise our Society.
It seems in our modern world that secular humanism has gotten confused with authentic Christian outreach which, for the first, is simply a human response to suffering and, in the second, an apostolate with Christ as its active center.
To boot we have a preponderance of priests and bishops who have become nothing but glorified social workers at the best and devastating political activists at the worst. So we have become a social club of sorts, another NGO, or a spiritless type of humanism that might more closely resemble a masonic lodge which does good works but has no love of God or Christianity or its teachings (Truths) that we as Christians hold as basic principles of this life. One might think of the Shriver’s Burn Centers which do good humanistic work but are bereft of any spirituality . . . especially Christian.
Perhaps the Church of England moved more quickly to take on the ways of the world as did the Catholic Church due to its lack of an authoritative Guidance which Popes at least delayed in the Catholic faith. We too suffer the same fate now and are quickly paying catch-up with those who are already worldly in their outreach. Vatican II is our guide to opening up those windows to the world, the flesh and the devil and they are no longer even spoken of them as enemies.
Such many Christian outreaches (poorly managed) may acquire more members in order to drop their tithes in the parish basket but will they be Catholics or Christians? Will they be taught the teachings, the Truths and the guidance of Christ to live productive lives? Or will they simply find temporal relief from temporal difficulties and sufferings and mistake their help for a sign not unlike the teachings of those who preach a gospel of prosperity.
When we taught the truth, we were not indifferent to true Catholic outreach. We founded hospitals all around the world and fed the hungry as best we could. Spiritual health and growth does not mean that we are negating our outreach to those who are in need of Christian charity.
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As I think the piece implies, I do think we have run into the danger of being a social club/local action group. Of course there is nothing wrong with that, and it is in my view right that the Church should be involved in these areas. But what we have not done successfully is to be the spiritual leaven in these areas.
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“If the reason we believe in God is that we are frightened of what He might do to us if we don’t … well an appeal to what sounds like an eternity of abuse because we deserve it isn’t saying anything very positive about Christianity. There will be some who think “tough” . . .”
I do think that there is another answer that is always left out of the discussion of hell . . . and that response may be “thank you for the reminder”. The reminder that an eternity without God is an eternity without love, beauty, goodness, rest etc. I thank Our Lady of Fatima that she found it fit subject matter to show to 3 small children so that they know how utterly important and necessary it is for us to pray for all men and to do all in our power to save men from such an eternal torment. We do have a choice though. Faith should include a vision of hell as well as heaven I would think. It does not show us how mean and horrible the God of Creation is but how indispensable he is to our very happiness. Without Him in this world it is barren of all that is good and meaningful. It would be hell on earth. And if we believe, like some today that God will simply annihilate the souls of unbelievers then we do not understand the essence of an eviternal soul (one that has a beginning in time but is destined to exist forever). It should motivate and not shock us. I myself am grateful for the reminding of the importance of every small thing that we do in this life . . . it has eternal consequences for our souls.
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I agree, Dave, but it needs to be done carefully, and frankly the Church, having done it very badly, has gone to the other extreme and stopped doing it at all – neither way is correct.
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True. Love of God must be first or it makes no sense.
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Indeed, we love Him, but He loved us first. That is the beginning of wisdom. The Church needs to begin there and emphasise the joy of the Faith. If it simply becomes about attendance or ritual or liturgy then we present a caricature. All these things matter, of course, but they are part of a larger whole. The Oxford Movement priests often brought the beauty of holiness into the most drab environments, and it was the very contrast between that beauty and the environment which attracted people. We seem to have lost that skill.
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Well, “We allowed the Churches to be shut as though they were not essential buildings for the community. If they weren’t, why weren’t they and how could we set about changing that?”, perhaps, in many cases that is what they are, if:
“So we have become a social club of sorts, another NGO, or a spiritless type of humanism that might more closely resemble a masonic lodge which does good works but has no love of God or Christianity or its teachings (Truths) that we as Christians hold as basic principles of this life. ” Or as I put it long ago on this blog, “A coffee shop full of do-gooders”, then they are, in fact, unessential. There are plenty of NGOs begging for our tax dollars.
But we know, even at our middling average, we are something far more than that, perhaps we are keeping our light far too much under a bushel basket. For it is also true (or we are lost) that no has a better idea of what is needed in each community than our various clergy. And if something is working, it will attract both money and volunteers. The overriding mission, stated on our masthead here, will be served best – by example. So we need to go and do. For this is better done by us and ours, preferably without government interference which is always the price of government funding.
And that is how we spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific in the first place, people looked on our forebears in wonderment and said, “Look at how those Christians care for each and all, even the lowliest”, and were intrigued by that and became, in time, us.
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That, Neo, is the soundest thing published on this site for a while. Thank you.
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Thanks, it just seems reasonable to me.
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Chalcedon – well, from my point of view I’m not sure if there is this `national apostasy’, although it is clear that there is a rejection of church-going.
Back in 2002, after long-suffering patience, I gave up church-going. I stayed with it for too long, basically because of the spiritual blackmail, `you’re not a proper Christian if you don’t go to church’, `you have a duty to go to church’, `even if it feels worse than pulling teeth, your presence is good for other Christians – you have a duty to go’, etc … etc … etc ….
One Sunday, approximately one year after moving to a new town, having explored all the options and finding them awful – both in the sense that I could see the flaws and also in the sense of getting the creepy feeling down the back of my neck that this was precisely the place I didn’t want to be, I decided not to allow myself to be blackmailed any more.
Instead of going to church, I took the bus to a location 20 miles south of town and took a nice long walk through forests and past lakes back home again. This felt much more like the sort of Spiritual rest I needed on the Sabbath than church had provided for many years.
I haven’t looked back. I find a day-of-rest when I do not go to church much more restful, prayerful and tranquil than one when I do.
Now I have a son and I have decided that I’m not going to let these people get their hands on him, so that gives me an even greater sense of urgency for staying away from church.
I wonder how many Christians are in the same position as I am; I wonder how much the picture you paint of the decline of churches really is connected with a decline in Christianity.
I should add that I wasn’t in the UK back in 2002 when I took a decision against church going and I am still not in the UK. I get the strong impression in the UK that if one is prepared to look within a 20 mile radius, there will be a reasonable fellowship available. So it may have been different if I had been in the UK.
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I can understand that Jock, and have sometimes found myself there, so sympathise. If, as I do, you believe in the Real Presence, then being absent from the Sacraments is such a big deal that I am even willing to put up with going to an uncongenial church.
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Chalcedon – I can understand that. I don’t believe in the `Real Presence’ in that way, so I don’t have that problem.
But if you are going to a church where the worship does not seem to be governed by the Spirit of God, then don’t you start to wonder if the presence is really there in the sacrament?
I remember deciding that I would be prepared to put up with a sacramental church if I had to, so I tried the service at the (Lutheran) cathedral one evening. On the one hand, I was very happy to discover that my language skills were good enough to understand what the sermon was all about, but on the other hand I recognised that this said more about the sermon than about my grasp of the language. He had studied some history, so he was able to give us the precise dimensions of the enormous water jars which were used when Jesus turned the water into wine. He pointed out that this was rather a lot of wine, so it must have been a very good wedding party. With this, he concluded his sermon, the organ started playing and everybody stood up and they went into the bit connected with the sacraments – at which point I left.
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That last goes down on my (long) list of “worst sermons”. On your first point, yes. But if Christ is there in the Sacraments, that is who I go for. But yes, I take your point.
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Chalcedon – so how do you take 1 Corinthians 11v27, which is a stern warning against partaking of the communion bread and wine in an unworthy manner?
I always took this as having two aspects: (a) my own approach to it should be fitting and (b) I don’t participate if there is something that smells bad about the set-up, if the worship does not seem to be governed by the Spirit of God.
For (a), we see Judas Iscariot participating `in an unworthy manner’ and directly afterwards he betrayed Jesus and brought eternal condemnation upon himself.
From this I conclude that it is up to the individual to discern whether or not they should be taking communion and not for someone in the church hierarchy who has read too much canon law for their own good and enjoys being a church gestapo officer. Jesus allowed Judas to participate, knowing full well the state of his heart and mind.
But I also think that (b) is very important – if the whole set-up feels spiritually wrong then it feels like a desecration of the body and blood of Christ to participate. That is what it feels like to me – and I don’t even believe in the `real presence’ – so I’m surprised that it isn’t worse for you.
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It is the same for me, Jock. The rule book, so to says, says I should attend after Confession, and I do my best, but at the moment you can’t get to confession. But for my part, that’s only part of it. If I feel “unworthy”, which for me, is in the wrong place in my spiritual life or head, then I won’t partake.
On the other front, well I am a member of the Church, and the unowrthiness of the Minister is no bar to the efficacy of the Sacraments.
That said, if I really find the priest or the congregation unbearable, I am fortunate enough to be close enough to other places where they are not. Of course, it always occurs to me that it may be that I am the problem and they are sending subconscious signals that I should not darken their doorstep!
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Yes – absolutely. My decision to step away from church-going was not one that I took lightly – and I did ask myself the same questions. In the end, I decided not to bother with this question – it was clearly wrong for me to be there irrespective of where the problem lay..
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My list as well, and it too is long
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