• Slow Eucharist – Teaching Mass – Lord’s Supper with FAQ

    I’m doing something a bit different on Monday. It happens to be the Feast of St Bartholomew and normally we would have a celebratory Eucharist in the morning instead of morning prayer. Now, I’m the master of having all the works in less than half an hour.  Clouds of smoke, a simple sung plainsong setting a wee homily and some prayers and off we go into the world refreshed by being inspired by the saint of the day. It all has to be sharp and to the point but it is fun none the less.

    However on Monday I’ve shifted the Eucharist to the evening and instead of it being over before you can blink, I’ve advertised it as a slow eucharist.

    The idea is that we’ll take time over it and I welcome questions throughout the service. I’ll probably have some questions to think about too.

    I’ve done a few services like this in my time.

    When I’ve done this before, it has been enjoyed by a range of people. It is particularly suitable for anyone who comes to the Eucharist and has been wondering about how the service hangs together. What do the individual bit mean? Why do we do it this way? I’ve also known parents who believe (in the face of the church telling them otherwise) that children should “understand” communion before receiving it enjoy bringing their kids. (My experience is that kids do understand it and adults have the questions, but that’s OK). It is particularly suitable for anyone of any age who wants to begin receiving communion but who hasn’t received so far because they don’t quite get it or have wondered whether or not they should.

    The kinds of questions that have come up in the past have included…

    • Why do you wear that colour on that day and how do you know?
    • Why do we have wafers when other people have bread?
    • Why do you do that with your hands?
    • Why do we sometimes have three people at the altar – what are they all doing there?
    • How do you know who is who by what they are wearing?
    • What really happens to the bread and wine?
    • What do all Anglicans believe about this
    • What are the secret prayers that the priest says?
    • What do you mean secret prayers?!!!
    • Why do people have different names for the service – Eucharist, Lord’s Supper, Mass, which is it?
    • Can you receive communion if you’ve arrived at the last minute?
    • If Jesus only gave communion to men then why do we give it to women too?
    • Did Jesus know he was starting something that would go on and on through the centuries?
    • What’s that called?
    • Who is allowed to receive communion? Is there anyone you would refuse communion to?
    • Can you be excommunicated from the Scottish Episcopal Church?
    • Why did I have to be confirmed to receive communion and now people don’t?
    • Why? Just why?
    • Why do we do this, when we used to do that?

    I’ll give plenty of time for questions and answers. Don’t presume I have all the answers. My hunch is that the best answers will come from the community that gathers.

    It will be fun. It will be informal. It will be holy.

    No question too silly.

    All welcome on Monday at 6.30 pm. Depending on numbers, we may start with a sacristy safari to gether all the bits and pieces together. If there are too many of us, we’ll reschedule that bit for another day. We should be all out of the building by 8.30 pm so slow but not interminable. (Length depends on the number of questions).

    Comments and questions welcome on here too.

     

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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