Permit me one final point: the pandemic. As has previously been noted on this blog, the hierarchy of the church could not have handled it worse if they’d tried. Really, really disappointing to say the least. The panic and overreach—never marks of good leadership at the best of times—were appalling. The subsequent gaslighting was disgusting, if I’m being honest. Gaslighting? Yes. The infamous ad clerum of 24th March which locked clergy out of our churches was later claimed, mendaciously and unconvincingly, to be “guidance, not instruction”. But there is simply no way in the world that anyone could have read it as as such (it used the word “must” seven times). Claiming it was anything other than a three-line whip was an insult to the intelligence of the clergy and a self-inflicted injury to the integrity of the bishops. Well, we all make mistakes. And when you mess up, fess up. But “sorry” seems to be the hardest word.
The result is that a lot of respect, trust and goodwill was unnecessarily forfeited by the bishops in 2020. And locally? On the whole clergy rose to the challenge and did a superb job. But since the pandemic my church has lost about a third of the congregation, and most of those missing are the young adults, families and children. We’ve lost perhaps two thirds or three quarters of that crucial demographic. They simply haven’t come back, despite repeated (exhaustive and exhausting) efforts. My church has long covid: we are weaker, smaller and older—much, much older—than we were in 2018/19. We’re demoralised and discouraged but “having done all, we stand”, holding out the offer of faith, hope and love in a dark and disordered world.
I feel like I’m pedalling a bicycle up a hill. The hill (context) has become steeper and the weather (culture, climate) worse. The bike (church) is heavy and rusty; the tyres are leaking air and the gears slip. It’s hard work. And the rider (me) is older, aching, and tired. Few people are cheering me on; the cars and lorries pass too close; I’m cold and wet and it’s getting dark. Ten, fifteen, or twenty years ago it felt different: easier in every way; still a lot of effort but with results to show for it. Now, not so much. Meanwhile, we carry on as best as we can—offering the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ, his death and resurrection, to as many as will hear and receive it.
Read it all.
(Psephizo) Oliver Harrison–A Letter From The Front Line in C of E Parish Ministry
Permit me one final point: the pandemic. As has previously been noted on this blog, the hierarchy of the church could not have handled it worse if they’d tried. Really, really disappointing to say the least. The panic and overreach—never marks of good leadership at the best of times—were appalling. The subsequent gaslighting was disgusting, if I’m being honest. Gaslighting? Yes. The infamous ad clerum of 24th March which locked clergy out of our churches was later claimed, mendaciously and unconvincingly, to be “guidance, not instruction”. But there is simply no way in the world that anyone could have read it as as such (it used the word “must” seven times). Claiming it was anything other than a three-line whip was an insult to the intelligence of the clergy and a self-inflicted injury to the integrity of the bishops. Well, we all make mistakes. And when you mess up, fess up. But “sorry” seems to be the hardest word.
The result is that a lot of respect, trust and goodwill was unnecessarily forfeited by the bishops in 2020. And locally? On the whole clergy rose to the challenge and did a superb job. But since the pandemic my church has lost about a third of the congregation, and most of those missing are the young adults, families and children. We’ve lost perhaps two thirds or three quarters of that crucial demographic. They simply haven’t come back, despite repeated (exhaustive and exhausting) efforts. My church has long covid: we are weaker, smaller and older—much, much older—than we were in 2018/19. We’re demoralised and discouraged but “having done all, we stand”, holding out the offer of faith, hope and love in a dark and disordered world.
I feel like I’m pedalling a bicycle up a hill. The hill (context) has become steeper and the weather (culture, climate) worse. The bike (church) is heavy and rusty; the tyres are leaking air and the gears slip. It’s hard work. And the rider (me) is older, aching, and tired. Few people are cheering me on; the cars and lorries pass too close; I’m cold and wet and it’s getting dark. Ten, fifteen, or twenty years ago it felt different: easier in every way; still a lot of effort but with results to show for it. Now, not so much. Meanwhile, we carry on as best as we can—offering the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ, his death and resurrection, to as many as will hear and receive it.
Read it all.