• Church blogging – all may, none must, some should

    The injunction “all may, none must, some should” is the classic prescription for how Anglicans deal with confession. However, it is worth thinking of it as a helpful way of thinking about church blogging too. The recent speech of the Archbishop of Canterbury in which he acknowledged the significance (and one suspects, in his mind, the malevolence) of those are able to comment instantly on matters affecting the Anglican Communion is a significant recognition of the importance for good or for ill of those who write online. Now, skating over the possibility that there’s some connection between blogging and the confessional, it is maybe worth thinking about where we’re at when it comes to church bloggery.

    I made a prediction at the start of the year that the number of church bloggers would probably decline but the significance of those who continued would probably continue to rise. The archbishop’s comments, which I’ll come to in a moment certainly bear that out the latter half of that prediction but what about the decline in those blogging from a church perspective. What’s that all about?

    Well, the rise of social media has changed the way a lot of people engage online. At one time blogging was an obvious way of connecting in an online environment. Nowadays you’ve got to work for your community if you are keeping a blog and saying what you want to say in the short telegraph messages of social media gives you an almost instant community and the instant gratification that goes along with saying something and getting a response from others very quickly.

    I happen to think that the arrival of social media is a good thing. Indeed, I think it is an excellent thing. Its power is yet to be fully understood and it has completely changed the relationship of individuals with power and hierarchy. This is something that church leaders have often found difficult to believe, never mind difficult to stomach.

    Of course, social media is deeply connected to the blogosphere. At one time I used to get most of my readership for this blog from links on other people’s blogs. That is certainly no more the case. Nowadays most of the readership comes from links on social media. That’s people sharing links on Facebook or Twitter mostly. I seed those links and try to attract people. I do so at different times of the day to attract a world-wide audience and sometimes it pays off with a strong readership from all around the world. The post I put up about what local churches might learn from cathedral ministry is a case in point. It has now had an audience of thousands. I posted a few links to it on social media and people were interested enough in what I was saying to like the post, comment on the post and recommend it to their friends.

    But social media has another function for me too – it is where I discover those random gems from around the internet that I’d never find otherwise. Things other people have posted that catch my eye. As I write this, I’m aware from reading Facebook in another screen on my desk of this article which is a fascinating perspective that enriches my life: This Atheist is Thankful for the Clergy. I’d never had found that without an American friend pointing me towards it online.

    But back to blogging – all may, none must, some should – what am I trying to get at?

    Well the great thing about blogging is that it is open to such a wide pool of people. The entry levels for publishing have fallen to almost nothing. Get regular access to the internet and you can write a blog for no financial cost which can change the world. But the amazing thing is that you can also write a blog that doesn’t change the world too. You can write a blog for the shear job of sharing something that gives you shear joy – like Freda’s post this week of a jolly cairn terrier. Bloggers don’t need to be trying to change the world all the time. There’s a world of people wanting to know what inspires you, delights you and makes you laugh. Isn’t that worth taking part in?

    Mind you, changing the world is always an option.

    Here’s what the Archbishop of Canterbury said in a recent address to the Church of England Synod.

    In an age of near instant communication, because the Communion exists, and is full of life, vigour and growth, of faith and trust in Jesus Christ, and love for him, everything that one Province does echoes around the world. Every sermon or speech here is heard within minutes and analysed half to death. Every careless phrase in an interview is seen as a considered policy statement. And what is true of all Provinces is ten times more so for us, and especially us in this Synod. We never speak only to each other, and the weight of that responsibility, if we love each other and the world as we should, must affect our actions and our words.

    Sadly, that does not come close to an apology for the Archbishop’s disastrous comments during his LBC interview earlier in the year. However, it does show that he is coming to understand how significant online comments are.

    It is rather a pity, I think, that he can see so little good in those who comment online. After all the online Anglican Communion is in some sense rather more real than the Anglican Communion that exists in distant committees and Primates’ Meetings. It is immediate, feisty and not quite so divided along doctrinal lines as people might suspect. Indeed, it is one of the few opportunities that people have to see what people think who don’t share their own theological pecadillos. I keep reading what people who don’t agree with me write not simply to keep an eye on them but because I’m interested in them and care about what they have to say. Sometimes I change my mind about things. That side of the blogosphere isn’t celebrated enough.

    I’m still in love with an online world which can move me too. Things like Kate’s reports recently from the Holy Land give me a human perspective on aspects of that part of the world that would otherwise go unreported to me. Or John McLuckie’s generous piece about the Scottish Episcopal Church’s Cascade Process. That deserves to be read widely.

    I think that it is probably the case that a few more people will try blogging again over the year that is to come. I suspect it rewards those who can think about why they are blogging and make a bit of a plan as to what they are hoping for.

    I think that there’s good reasons for people to blog some of the small stuff too. The pictures from parish life that show how much life and laughter there is in your own congregation. The sermon with that one line that will touch someone unknown on the other side of the world and which will make the person from round the corner decide you might be worth trying out at Christmas.

    Maybe the turn of the liturgical year this weekend is worth marking. Maybe one or two would want to give it another go or revive their blogging resolve as an advent resolution.

    There’s virtual territory here that needs virtual missionaries.

    Real ones.

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.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Previous Posts

  • Kenneth McKellar RIP

    First the news of Malcolm McLaren’s death and now Kenneth McKellar too. (What an unusual little queue outside the pearly gates this Easter week). Here is Kenneth McK singing his Eurovision entry in 1966. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaCpDhCbvlY

  • Malcolm McLaren RIP

    Odd, isn’t it, how there is an outpouring of affection for Malcolm McLaren by the twitter generation whilst, I’m sure many would not have known who he was. For those of us who have grown up in the age of identity politics, Malcolm McLaren was one of our cultural pioneers, whether we liked what he…

  • Vigil Pic

    This is what the Easter Vigil looked like early yesterday morning as we gathered around the font. Many thanks to Gordon Smith for the pic.