What is in Kelvin's Head?

Still Prayin’

19/10/2013

In many churches, St Mary’s included, there is at least one, often two short public service of daily prayer. Here in St Mary’s we have morning prayer at 9.30 and a dedicated band of people take turns in leading. There are generally between five and ten people who come – sometimes more and sometimes less.

For almost a couple of years now we’ve been experimenting with an evening service on Saturdays which is convened online rather than in church. After a break in the summer, that has now started up again.

When I first participated in a daily tradition of prayer I was working in the University of London in one of the University Chaplaincies. I remember once saying to someone in the college that I needed to get back for Evening Prayer and his response has stuck with me. “Say one for me” he said. He was not someone who would ever dream of coming to the service itself but somehow it mattered to him that prayer was offered in that place.

Something of the same thing is going on with the online service. There’s a small band of people who do it – never more than 10 because we don’t have the technology for more than 10. Sometimes we’ve approached that number but more often it is just a few of us. I find that when I tell people that prayer is offered in a google hangout online they are really interested but far fewer come and join in than care about it. There’s obvious delight in the very idea from some people who don’t ever make it into the hangout. There’s a touch of “say one for me” about the experience, I suspect.

People are also interested in what it feels like.

Interestingly the experience that it has most felt like to me is morning prayer at St Mary’s. I guess I am generally comfortable living life online and more so than many. However, it doesn’t really feel any different to me.

I’m interested in this because I know that clergy find it hard to say the daily office on their own. No, let me be more truthful, I know that I find it hard to say the daily office on my own. When I worked in a smaller church I could never quite drag myself into church to say it publicly and I shared what quite a lot of people say – that it makes them feel lonely. Now sometimes you can get yourself in th mood by reminding yourself that you say it with the saints and angels and with all the company of heaven, including those who are saying the same words in many different situations. There’s a core truth that you never pray alone which I believe. However, that is often easier to belief than to feel.

Saying the office online is one way that groups of people could chose to build into their spiritual practise. The little group that does it at St Mary’s now has been doing it long enough to be able to offer tips and I’d welcome any questions or enquiries. Best thing to do, of course, is just turn up to one of our services in cyberspace.

There’s more detail here:

http://thecathedral.org.uk/online-evening-prayer/

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

Josh

02/01/2014

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.

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Josh

02/01/2014

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.

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Rosemary Hannah

02/01/2014

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.

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Paul Waddington

04/01/2014

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.

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1. Kelvin
  
  04/01/2014
  
  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.
  
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Pam

04/01/2014

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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