• We should be wary of declaring martyrs

    One of the themes that has been emerging over the last few weeks is the desire to recognise people who have been killed by terrorists as martyrs. However, we should pause and ask whether that’s really the most appropriate language to be using.

    The Archbishop of Canterbury was eager to do this in his Easter sermons and there are reports of the Pope speaking of the Kenyan students who were killed last week as modern Christian martyrs though I’ve not been able to track down the verbatim comment myself.

    Two incidents in particular seem to be being recalled in this rush to declare people as martyrs for Christ. Firstly the massacre of Coptic men on a Libyan beach some weeks ago and secondly the killing of students in Kenya in Holy Week. In the case of the Copts, it is reported that many of them died with the name of Jesus Christ on their lips. In the case of the Kenyans, there are reports that they were killed because, being Christians they were unable to recite or answer questions on certain portions of the Qur’an. Both are despicable incidents.

    Having travelled in Egypt, I don’t find it hard to see how or why the Coptic church lost no time at all in declaring the murdered men to be martyrs. Everywhere you go in Egypt there is a martyrdom cult amongst Christians there. The Coptic church has known its troubles through the centuries and many, many people were killed witnessing to their faith in the past. To a certain degree, the Coptic church has the strength it has because of its history of persecution, particularly during the time of the Emperor Diocletian – yes, right back to the third century after Christ.

    It may be technically correct to refer to at least some of those who died as martyrs – they witnessed under duress to Christ even unto death. However something about all of this makes me uncomfortable.

    To make martyrdom the dominant rhetoric surrounding these killings is to risk losing the opportunity to unite a diverse world against these killings.

    I’m not sure that it is martyrdom to be killed for not knowing a particular verse  of the Qur’an. That doesn’t make it any the less wicked an act either.

    I find myself listening to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s sermon and asking what would be wrong in describing these acts primarily as crimes against humanity? Don’t we need to build an ever growing consensus amongst religious and non-religious alike that such acts are irrefutably wrong?

    To speak of martyrdom risks adopting those who have died into a vulgar sectarian mentality where my dead are holier than your dead.

    We need to remember that Christianity is not the only religion to speak of martyrs and most of the talk of martyrdom in recent years has come from those who wish others harm for their own radical extremist ends.

    It is impossible to put oneself into these situations. Yet I find myself wondering whether if I were facing death in this way I’d prefer the focus to be not on my personal entry into heaven nor upon my own individual faith – however dear that is to me, but upon building a world where such acts become inconceivable. There must also be a place for international work on ensuring that appropriate pathways to justice are available in new and previously unforeseen situations where para-state institutions commit what would otherwise be called warcrimes.

    These acts are primarily crimes and vile and horrific crimes. Christians should lose no opportunity to present them as such and leave God to work out the religious significance or otherwise of such wicked acts.

     

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

  1. Josh Avatar

    Being a good vicar to stony, unreceptive hearts might require a pickaxe to reveal gemstones within. It must be tough to minister to jerks and meanies, no? We lose faith in people easily – I certainly do. But a good vicar – a loving parent – doesn’t give on up one’s children.

    A good vicar might depend on the eye of the beholder. Whether you believe vicars and congregations are intrinsically good or evil might get you called a Pelagian or an Augustinian depending on who you ask. Faith in the work of a vicar or the reception of the congregation depends on good faith and co-operation – what then do we place our faith in? Hardly Protestant thinking, when faith is dependent on work, manifestation, and epiphany. A bad vicar might be sent to good people. A good vicar might be sent to bad people. Whether a vicar or congregation is subjectively or objectively good is a difficult question to answer.

    It is then that I prefer to see both the vicar and congregation not as “good” or “bad” but rather as equally “beloved”. However large the congregation, or even the vicar’s skill shouldn’t matter then. But that raises the question: Who then do we love if we are so beloved by God? Perhaps love might be the answer. A vicar and congregation who sees and knows themselves as equally and lavishly beloved of God will love each other. Love makes congregations meaningful and precious, no matter how small they might be.

  2. Josh Avatar

    And if I might add to my previous comment – And love also makes vicars meaningful and precious, no matter how small the congregation might be.

  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Yes – things which make the practicalities of small congregations include:
    the laity in most senior positions find it hard to see the inclusive love of God and to see the value of prayer and spiritual exercises, a shortage of laity with administrative abilities, a tiny handful of parishioners prepared to insist on unhelpful things all the time (the oldest liturgies every week, the kind of behaviour small children cannot sustain all service long, particular dress in those at church on Sunday to name but a tiny selection). In a larger church these things can be contained (one nasty comment for lady x outweighed by five or six lovely ones or simply finding somebody to be treasurer who can cope with the job). In a small church, however good the vicar, the nasty comment carries more weight, and the sorting out of the finances may take days of clergy effort. It is always hard to get from a tiny congregation to a large one.

    That said, I have sat through sermons so mind-numbingly boring and inappropriate that I have actually moved to another church.

  4. Paul Waddington Avatar
    Paul Waddington

    If one looks at the larger picture, the Archbishop’s optimism seems misplaced.

    According to the 1851 census, about five million people attended a Church of England service on the census day (a Sunday). The population of England and Wales at the time was about 17 million. These are round figures and I know that there were difficulties with the religious census, but they are good enough to demonstrate my point. Roughly speaking, about 30% of the population attended a CofE that Sunday.

    Recently published figures estimate average Sunday attendance at CofE churches at about 900,000. That is about 2% of the population of England. Wales is now excluded.

    So taking the long view, the trend is rather depressing for the CofE. Compared with 1851, fourteen out of fifteen no longer attend church regularly.

    As an aside, the 1851 census indicated a church attendance for Catholics of about 350,000. That is about 2% of the population. I understand that the current figure is very similar for Mass attendance is also around 900,000 or 2% of the population.

    Other recent research has indicated that the age range of CofE congregations is skewed towards the upper end. Certainly in my local parish, it is unusual to see anyone under the age of 60. I do wonder how many there will be in, say, 15 years time.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thanks Paul – I find that bishops generally tend to accentuate the positive when it comes to thinking about numbers in church. Whether that is because they only go to events that are comparatively well attended or whether it is actually because it is their job to be upbeat about possibilities is not clear to me.

  5. Pam Avatar
    Pam

    It is complicated – ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – poor adjectives. The rector is the leader of the congregation and needs support and trust. But, I think, no longer is the vicar held in such esteem as not to have to earn that support and trust. A good thing, mostly. Churches grow for all sorts of reasons – the level of involvement with non-believers, a prominent noticeboard and outstanding bikke and slice-makers all help.

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