Circles and Straight Lines

The lasting effects of the glossolalia 

There are times in my standard Earth week when I find myself hanging with the dudes from the funky charismatic churches. The great joy of our Church of England, apart from the joy and solace to be found in the wording of draft amendments to draft bills for draught excluders is that we are a broad church.

At one end of the spectrum you get the funkies in their open-neck shirts, perma-smiles and and prayers that are two-thirds the word "just". At the other end, you get us old dears, in our black suits and white collars, quaffing gin and stinking of burned resins. And I think that it is a remarkable and wonderful organisation that can house us all. 

In wider society, there is talk of high and low, or else of candles and the upper or lower placings thereon. In other words, one would imagine that my brothers and sisters from the bean-bag edifices of the Holy Stage-Set were the furthest end of the continuum from us from the "if it ain't prehistoric it just ain't cool, man" wholly cluttered-up edifices. Nothing in common, differing emphases on the persons of the Godhead, different outfits, different language and all that. 

I used to think that too. I am the first to say that much of the charismatic wing is a complete mystery to me and I fit into it like my feet do my daughter's fluffy slippers. Equally, I know that my mates from the charismatic wing think me basically papist and a throwback to times before churches had electricity. And that is fine. Actually, it presents a perfect balance - I think. 

Rather than a straight-line with ends - us on one, them on t'other - I have now come to the point of view that despite previous best-efforts to deny this thrice until my cock crowed, we are actually a lot closer. I think the whole thing is a circle, not a line. What charismatic Anglicans and Anglo-catholics have in common is a deep sense of engaging physically with the worship in which we are part. The truth be told, we all wave our arms around and I could no more not cross myself at a Blessing than they elevate arms in praise songs. It isn't contrived - it is just who we are. You look at a picture of a large act of worship at the cathedral church of the Holy Trinity in the Archdiocese of Brompton, and you would see as much smoke, light and effect accompanying the music as in the spikiest of High Church shrines. Perhaps the music is different and we use different linguistic styles, but in the end, we tune ourselves into the bit of God we understand most of all in a physical and specifically tactile way. I sort of get it, truth be told. 

In the end, I think we are all a lot more similar than any of us would have courage to admit. There is always the danger that particularism will prevail and "mine" becomes better than "yours" which does nothing but stifle this wonderful breadth of ours. The more that "we" can be "us" and "you" can do the same, I think that the balance achieved is the best in the world. However, for now I will leave it that in the great circle of church existence, only the accidentals stop us from being rather alike. 

On being a bloke IV

I have recieved some kind comments from those who have read this piffle, and who recognise the difficulties that I do in fitting in to a church that is largely composed of all other types and brands of people, and not us. There is something of the 'sheep and goats' to it - but us fellas feel a little like the only goat in an entire field, nay county, of sheep. This is problematic both for us, and how we fit in, and for those called to cater for needs of all people. 

It is fair to say, and accurate, that the majority of churches are largely devoid of fellas - certainly if we broaden that to males between 20 and 50. This is not a universal state of affairs by any means, but almost a mathematical certainty in those churches of a more sacramental 'bent'. This is a worry - it was a worry to me as a member of the laity, and no less a worry now that I am ordained. Sadly, being male (while utterly out of our control) brings with it the reverse stigma in a lot of ways that women have had to contend with for generations. Those of us who are 'pro-women', rejoice in the equalised 'voice' that is emerging, but we geezers ponder a factor that is perhaps less visible. It is almost a factor for immediate apology being a proud bloke in a church. I have never in my life sought to limit the ministry of any person, male or female, but neither can or will I be sorry for being man. It's a tension that is hard to resolve. For me to stand up and be a proud fella puts me in danger of accusation (or so it feels). Being proud of who I am does not make me sexist - but I do fear for how my generation of gentleman feels - especially those of us at 'our end' where the 'anti' camp is at its most vociferous. Some have assumed, quite wrongly, that because I and another of my closest friends is carflick, that we are by default anti-women. Nope, not us ....

So, what to do - how do I live as a proud man in a church that doesn't cater for us. I am speaking as one who does the catering too - what to do, indeed! I would go so far as to say that modern day non-charismatic non-Alpha (yes, there are two or three humans who are 'not interested' [please stop sending me unsolicited propaganda]) church life is about as interesting to the typical geezer as the BNP tick-box is to most voters. It just isn't. Sorry! But what to do. I want to cater for all people, not just the well-populated 50+ female band, love them as I do. I know God loves us, but I haven't worked out how I can help build a church where we feel that we have a place.