A Requiem to Reverence

 "If anyone would like communion at today's service, there's bread and wine at the back of church; please feel free to help yourselves." 

My friend, a firmly Anglo-Catholic priest, was gallantly attending the main Sunday morning service in a neighbouring supposedly Anglican Evangelical-Charismatic church. He had gone with as open a mind as he could manage, but as he heard the foregoing announcement, his heart sank and he knew that he really couldn't stay. It wasn't merely the blatant disregard for Canon Law that offended him (for no public celebration of Holy Communion had taken place), it was also the total lack of reverence for Our Lord's presence in the sacrament (always presuming, of course, that the elements had been consecrated in the first place).

It's tempting for those of us of a more Catholic tradition to launch into a diatribe against such practices, but for once I hesitate to do so. This admittedly uncharacteristic restraint stems from the belief that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.  You see, I've recently been increasingly shocked at, and depressed by, what I see as a growing abandonment of reverence in  our more sacramental churches; and lest you be tempted to think that I've simply gone into 'grumpy Vicar' mode, it's actually since I retired and started worshipping in the pew that I have become more acutely aware of, and troubled by, this disturbing trend.  

I remember a time when people would arrive in church and apart from a friendly, fairly hushed "Hello" at the door, would then go to their place and kneel or sit quietly until the service began.  Nowadays, churches tend to sound more like beer-gardens before worship begins. I recently attended a church where, apart from the general hubbub at the back of church, I could also hear five distinct (and very loud) conversations, at least three of which had medical themes ranging from a description of a recent operation to the relative merits and side-effects of certain antibiotics, both of which were discussed rather more graphically than one might wish.  Admittedly there was a very slight lull a couple of minutes or so before the service started, but this was largely offset by someone ending a conversation and, just as the bell rang and we all stood up, half-running down the aisle saying, "Oh, we're off!".  Some conversations resumed (albeit in slightly more hushed tones) whilst people were queuing for Communion.  

Of course our churches must be warm and welcoming, Those 'on the door' should cheerfully greet everyone, especially any newcomers, but this is a specific ministry and can also be done discreetly - as can saying hello to a new neighbour in the pew  and helping them to find their place in the service book. Such interactions are very important, and they are not part of the cacophonous 'chatter' to which I am referring. 

The issue here is that there often seems to be little or no sense of proper preparation for worship. We might ask, "Does it matter?".  I would argue that it does indeed matter. We are, after all, preparing for a great mystery in which we encounter the Living God. A priest once said to me, "It's amazing isn't it that if the King were visiting, everybody would be sitting quietly in a state of  respectful near-silence and they would carefully observe the accepted protocols regarding bowing, curtseying and so on. However, when the guest is Christ the King of the Universe, it seems they can't really be bothered and anything goes." He had a point. 

Now in case this starts to feel like an attack on the laity, I need to say that we clergy can be amongst the worst offenders in this regard. At a recent Chrism Mass (at which the Bishop blesses the Holy Oils and Clergy renew their ordination vows) I was appalled by the level of pre-service noise generated by the gossip and raucous laughter of the clergy  - who were seated en bloc at the front of the cathedral - and this on Maundy Thursday, one of the most solemn and significant days of the liturgical year. It was , frankly, a disgrace and I felt ashamed. We need to lead by example and until we do so, any attempts to urge congregations to prepare more prayerfully for worship will be dismissed, quite rightly, as sheer hypocrisy on our part.   

My second concern is the demise of the practice of kneeling. There was a time when congregations would devoutly kneel at various point in the Mass. Nowadays this seems to have been abandoned in favour of the 'non-conformist slouch' which, as a Methodist friend of mine once readily acknowledged  surely has to be one of the least reverential and respectful postures imaginable.  Of course there will always be those whose physical movement is impaired and for whom kneeling is simply too painful or even impossible, and that's fair enough. (My own mobility in this regard isn't what it was!) It seems, however, that even younger and more agile members of modern congregations are totally averse to the idea of kneeling (although once again, some of them might well be inclined to do so for an earthly monarch). Again, we clergy need to accept some responsibility for this. Do we teach our congregations about the significance of kneeling? Do we, in the way that we celebrate the liturgy, express and encourage a sense of awe and mystery that would drive people instinctively to their knees? The fact that  I now often hear clergy issuing the verbal rubric, "Please sit for the prayers." suggests that this is the accepted default practice. In many churches and (to their shame) cathedrals, there is now no provision for kneeling as traditional hassocks or kneelers are nowhere to be seen. 

I know that many  of those reading this blog - especially clergy colleagues - would agree with me that worship should never be gimmicky or dumbed-down. That's because if people want mere entertainment or something that is mundane and ordinary, there are lots of places in our modern society that can offer that far more effectively (and more appropriately) than the Church. But surely we also need to recognise that one of the ways in which we demonstrate that we are offering something special, something different, something that truly transcends the everyday, is the sense of expectation before our worship, the atmosphere around it and the manner in which the congregation takes part in it. 

We all know of people who have walked away from churches because they find them unfriendly and unwelcoming.  I certainly also know of people who have walked away from churches because there is simply no sense of awe and wonder - or, put another way, no genuine sense of worship.  

It seems that younger people are beginning to turn back to the church, principally to those churches with a fairly traditional approach and a Catholic ethos. They are,  it seems, looking for something that speaks to them at a profound level beyond mere words. If we are to meet that need, we need to get the balance right between being friendly and welcoming and being prayerful and spiritual, and the responsibility of rising to that challenge rests with clergy and laity alike. 

Those who come in an increasingly anxious age seeking healing of the soul need to be given the space and quietness in which to find it. Meanwhile,  I would respectfully suggest that Mrs Ramsbotham's recent surgery can perhaps best be discussed over post-service coffee.