'Dear Deans': a response from the north

A grenade has been lobbed into the playground of the Deans. Richard Moy of Christ Church W4 has written a blog entitled Dear Deans.* He has visited a handful of cathedrals for midweek services, a 'nearly deserted' Durham among them. And he is left with a question: Do we have any interest in the conversion of England – or even the survival of faith within the CofE?

His complaint comes down to this. In the CofE cathedrals he visited, there was no homily at any of the services, and no attempt to present the Christian faith or interpret the scriptures. He writes: St Paul’s had all the atmosphere of being a hen in a petting zoo as tourists at the north, south, west and east ends of the sanctuary surrounding the hapless worship pets (literally) like children on a field trip; and the lectionary readings at Durham/Canterbury were so objectionable without context or explanation that a casual inquirer / chance visitor/faith seeker would most likely be provoked to run away (screaming).

He goes on: The Church of England should not indefinitely spend the millions it does each year (£9.1million in 2013 on stipends / staffing) propping up Cathedral ministry partly on the basis of it’s (sic) alleged attendance statistics if no serious attempt is made to communicate the Christian faith when people attend public worship. The apostle said ‘woe to me if I do not preach the gospel.’ Woe indeed. If the Deans really can’t find a preacher for a five minute gospel homily I’ll happily send one of our highly talented interns...

We deans mustn't get defensive. It's important to expose ourselves to criticism, look at what we do and how we do it, and learn from colleagues in Christian ministry. Here in Durham we often ask ourselves if we are doing all we can to help 700,000 visitors not only enjoy and be inspired by what they experience in this cathedral, but also to understand what it stands for. Believe me, we are well aware of the evangelistic privileges and challenges that we have here.

A couple of deans have offered measured comments on Richard's blogsite, and Pete Willcox the Dean of Liverpool has written an excellent, comprehensive response in a blog of his own.** In it, he invites Richard to experience for himself the extraordinary diversity of activity in that great cathedral including worship, prayer and pilgrimage, outreach, social care, the arts, Christian common life and a whole lot else.

I want to ask a few questions of my own. (And they are questions that I hope will help the conversation along.)

1. Is Richard's concept of how God speaks to human beings unduly selective and narrow? Doesn't God make himself known in an infinite variety of ways, not simply through the spoken word. Cathedrals are numinous sacred spaces that speak of the divine not only through their buildings but also in the life and activity of their communities: daily prayer and worship, music and the arts, a common life of love and service, all of which play a part in building up the people of God and communicating faith. I am not undervaluing the role of preaching - far from it. But the gospel is lived out and testified to in a thousand different ways in churches and cathedrals everywhere. Look in our visitors' books to see how people are given glimpses of God and hear the Living Word speaking to them in unexpected ways that we can't and mustn't control. An incarnate God has freedoms that always transcend the limits our fallen nature wants to put on him. He speaks in many ways.

2. Does Richard underestimate the key role liturgy plays in speaking of faith? Wesley called the eucharist 'a converting ordinance'. Paul says that the breaking of bread is to 'show forth the Lord's death until he comes' - show forth being a strong, outward-facing missionary word. The Apostle wants the church's worship to be so compelling that people venturing in from outside have no choice but to conclude that 'God is among you'. The huge investment of care that goes into cathedral worship is at the heart of our witness to the gospel. People have been converted through coming to midweek choral evensong. (You don't believe me?)

3. Would Richard address the same criticism about the spiritual disciplines of religious houses - monasteries and convents? Yet these powerhouses of prayer play a vital part in the spirituality and mission of the church. Cathedrals and religious communities believe with conviction that corporate daily prayer should be at the heart of what we do. How many local churches are still open day by day to welcome those who wish to join our communities for public prayer? Who can say what the benefits of this may be, not just for its participants but for the world, our society, the church and for people in pain and need all of whom we hold before God in public cathedral worship at least three times every day?

4. Does Richard need to think a little more deeply about the part heritage can play in evangelism? Here in Durham, we are clear that Christian heritage is not an end in itself. It is one of our greatest tools in presenting Christian faith as a lived and life-changing reality. We have invested over £10M into our 'Open Treasure' project which is designed to interpret the Cathedral's past through the marvellous artefacts and buildings that tell its story. But the key aims of the project are to open up the 'treasure' of the gospel, and the 'treasure' of the Christian community that has borne witness to it in past ages and continues to do so today. So 'Open Treasure' is about two central Christian values: mission, and hospitality. (By the way, these paid-for exhibitions will help us to continue to maintain free visitor admission to the Cathedral itself, something we believe itself speaks of God's own free hospitality and generous invitation to come to him as the gift of his grace.)

5. Does Richard need to revisit his understanding of scripture? It is true that the daily readings from the Bible often raise sharp questions. When 'difficult' passages come up in the evensong lectionary at Durham, readers usually introduce them with a sentence or two in order to help worshippers understand the context. Yes, interpretation is vital (and cathedrals take very seriously the need to interpret themselves and the faith they stand for to those who have little or no concept of Christian, or any other, faith). But does he really believe that Bible reading can be so objectionable without context or explanation that a casual inquirer/chance visitor/faith seeker would most likely be provoked to run away (screaming)? Leaving aside the rhetorical way he puts it, I wonder if it betokens an over-anxiety, a lack of trust in the God who always responds to those who feel after him and find him.

6. Does Richard need to inform himself a bit better about the many ways in which cathedrals are engaging with the national church and specifically the Church Commissioners so as to be properly accountable for their mission, given the resources that are expended on cathedral ministry? He might be surprised - even pleased - to discover the extent and range of evangelism and outreach activity there is in the 42 cathedrals of England.

Some people - Richard may be one of them - may imagine that as an 18th observer put it, cathedrals are merely 'asylums for amiable gentlemen with indistinct convictions'. Or heritage theme parks. Or exhibition halls and concert venues. If you get to know us, you may want to think again. For the medieval mystic Meister Eckhart, a cathedral is 'a creation imagined by the human spirit in order to affirm an inspiration and a faith'. Deans are spiritual leaders who are engaged in Christian mission every day of their lives. Cathedrals are not perfect when it comes to mission or anything else. We are painfully aware of so much unrealised potential. But they are also places of remarkable growth, lively faith, Christian flourishing and energetic outreach. And yes indeed, 'woe to us if we do not preach the gospel'. There isn't a dean in the land who doesn't aspire to inhabit that truth and pray for the gifts to live it.

Richard, you are a partner in that shared enterprise of proclamation and witness-bearing. Please don't knock us!

*Richard Moy's blog is at http://richardmoy.com/2015/06/03/dear-deans/
**The Dean of Liverpool's response is at https://deardeans.wordpress.com/2015/06/07/a-response-to-richard-moys-dear-deans-challenge/

Extraverts and Introverts: a plea for understanding

I once attended an act of worship whose leader issued this challenge: 'we're going to sing a song of praise to God that children love. It has actions. Here they are [demonstration]. So come on all you introverts, let yourselves go and enjoy it!' We duly complied, as we English tend to do in front of others. Maybe I was the only one who felt grumpy about it. Maybe not. But it left me thinking about introverts in the church and why we should have been singled out for mention that day. I don't suppose you would get away with challenging black or gay or even female worshippers like that. 

But it wasn't the church's equality and diversity policies that made me think. Rather, it was my own experience of church life. The other week a simplified Myers-Briggs personality-type questionnaire was doing the rounds on Facebook. Never one to resist a challenge, I took the test. Yet again, I came out stubbornly as an introvert - INFJ for those who know what that means. Since I first did it 30 years ago, I have always emerged as irredeemably introverted. Despite my formative Christian experience in vibrant evangelical churches, despite all these years of leadership in parish and cathedral, despite all the exposure to crowds of people many of them strangers, despite loving this privileged kind of ministry that takes a priest into so many different communities, despite all that I am still an introvert.

Time was when I used to wish I were different. But a wise spiritual director helped me to accept who I am and celebrate the gifts I bring. I now understand how we introverts learn over a lifetime to behave in extraverted ways: getting up to speak in public, working a room full of people we don't know, being genuinely interested in others, asking for money to support the church, knocking on unknown doors to offer pastoral care or support - it's all part of the job as every priest knows. And introverts are often very good at it, because of their nurturing both of the inner spiritual life and the great importance they attach to authenticity in personal relationships. Good 'performance skills' are required in all leaders, and introverts are as accomplished in this as extraverts. It's true that extraverts find some aspects of leadership more congenial than introverts, and less costly personally. But some of the finest leaders in all sectors are introverts, people who don't make a lot of noise or draw attention to themselves, but are quietly effective in what they do. 

I've been reading Susan Cain's book Quiet: the Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking [Viking 2012]. She has a lot to say about leadership in a world where extraversion goes with popularity and that loves the charismatic and the celebrity. She quotes two respected gurus among a vast literature on what makes a good leader. One says that what effective leaders have in common is 'little or no charisma, & little use either for that term or what it signifies'. Another affirms that 'many best-performing companies are run by Level 5 Leaders with no flash or charisma but only with extreme humility & intense professional will'. I find this encouraging.

I was especially interested in what she had to say about the prevailing evangelical culture in North America. She attended a large act of worship in one of the US's most flourishing mega-churches. First there's the warm-up. '"Good morning everybody" beams S---, then urges us to greet those seated near us. Most people oblige with wide smiles and glad hands.' Then comes the sermon. '"If you're a business leader, you need to read the Book of Jeremiah over and over because he was a genius CEO."' Straight out of the Harvard Business School then (another institution that comes in for interesting scrutiny). The author says she can't help thinking of an 'Unleash the Power Within' seminar she attended, with all those electric smiles and shining eyes. 

She acknowledges that it is all well-meant and well-done. This is a church with a great record of outreach and social care. 'But at the same time I can see how hard it must be, inside this world...for [this church's] introverts to feel good about themselves.' The (introverted) conservative evangelical pastor who took her into the service said afterwards 'with gentle exasperation': 'greeting people, the lengthy sermon, the singing - there was no emphasis on quiet, liturgy, ritual, things that give you space for contemplation... Sometimes I feel like I'm going through the motions. The outward enthusiasm and passion that seems to be part and parcel of [the church] culture doesn't feel natural. Not that introverts can't be eager and enthusiastic, but we're not as overtly expressive as extroverts. At a place like [this] you can start questioning your own experience of God. Is it really as strong as that of other people who look the part of the devout believer?'

I can hear extraverts cry: 'choral evensong is all very well for you introverts. What about us?' That's an important question. I guess that the task of liturgy is to embrace all sorts and conditions so that everyone is included and no one feels alienated as somehow a second class worshipper. That was Thomas Cranmer's great project - to create a liturgy that was genuinely common prayer, words and rituals that would not divide people but unite them in one koinonia, a fellowship of faith and love. This postmodern world has made the ideal much harder to attain than in his day. For now there are supposedly no grand narratives any more, only bits and pieces, all equally valid, with which we play at bricolage and piece texts and actions together in whatever way we choose. Extraverts and introverts are bound to do that in very different ways. 

But I would like to think that together we can create liturgy that is generous enough to have space for everyone. I doubt if an introvert would introduce a liturgical silence by saying 'Come on all you extraverts, just shut up and be quiet for once!' What matters is how we are natural and easy about acknowledging in public the extraverted and introverted sides that make up each of us. That calls for traditional Anglican grace and sensitivity that I need to learn and re-learn as much as the worship leader with whom I began. 

Lindisfarne Gospels: the Young Person's Guide

Superlative alert…

It’s been marvellous to have the Lindisfarne Gospels in their ancient home of Durham this summer. Around 90000 visitors have been to admire it, and acclaim for the exhibition itself has been matched by enthusiasm for a huge variety of events being held up and down the North East during the book’s residency.  Among them was a spectacular flower festival in the Cathedral, Jewels of the North that celebrated not only the Book and our northern saints but also the life of the region today.

But nothing will have moved me more than the performance I attended in the Cathedral last night. It was called The Young Person’s Guide to the Lindisfarne Gospels. A large cast of children, teenagers and young adults aged from about 3 to 21 gave everything they had to this utterly brilliant interpretation of the Lindisfarne story. There were colour and light, speech and drama, rhythm and dance, ventriloquism and puppetry in an entirely convincing alchemy of fact and fiction, fantasy and pantomime, wit and parody. It was an unashamedly Christian ‘take’ on the Gospels with no attempt to airbrush out their religious significance as if the book were 'no more' than a landmark in cultural history and great art. 

There were many highlights (including the 3-year old in the front row who kept waving endearingly to his family in the nave). Eadfrith explaining to his monks why he was writing his Book, the Viking senior management team launching their campaign, and the Four Gospels Blues with clever montages imitating the evangelists’ portraits in the Lindisfarne Gospels were unforgettable. The commitment of all involved was one hundred per cent. It's clear that the Gospels had vividly taken hold of these youngsters' imagination.

I always find it moving to see young people achieve. We are fortunate to enjoy this every day in the Cathedral as we listen to our choristers sing evensong.  But the cast of Young Person’s Guide were not like most choristers, except for their talent.  The organisation putting on this performance, ‘Enter’, is a Community Interest Company (CIC) works with young people from disadvantaged backgrounds to promote personal and social development through the creative arts. 

I learned a bit about the backgrounds of some of these children. You would think there was little hope for them. Yet parents and children tell powerful stories about Enter's impact. For some, the performing arts have brought about a real transformation of their lives keeping them off the streets, giving them confidence and a lot of fun, enlarging their imagination, and imparting life-skills that will serve them in adulthood. It forges them into a community, gives them something to belong to and helps foster life-giving relationships.  I would not have believed what these youngsters were capable of if I had not seen it for myself. It takes inspirational leadership to bring it off, and parents pay tribute on the website to Enter's staff and how they are touching young lives.

I couldn’t help thinking how all this was a metaphor of how the church should be a place of inspiration and transformative life. It was abundantly clear that these youngsters loved what they were doing. It was as if they had given their lives to it. Isn’t this how Jesus proclaimed the kingdom of God as a glorious rainbow party that creates a wholly new way of looking at life?

This morning, as I presided at the eucharist in the Cathedral, I thought about the previous evening. The exuberance of that evening had been replaced by the solemn dignity of cathedral liturgy – yet somehow the vibrations had not quite died away. The music of Stanford is not exactly Elvis or the blues. But once again, children were excelling themselves through their singing, and the joy on the faces of the young family who had brought their child for baptism spoke of the same life-changing power of great performance – for isn’t the divine liturgy the greatest drama there is? - and the glimpse it gives us of a world made new.  

Visit Enter’s website at www.entercic.org.

Farewell to the Bishop of Durham

We have said farewell to Justin Welby. This time next week he will be Archbishop of Canterbury, exchanging the see of Cuthbert for the see of Augustine. Bishop of Durham for 14 months, he has lived up to his name of being only ‘just in’ as some of us have been quipping at the risk of lèse majesté.  It was a wonderful service; the conventional media epithet of bidding ‘an emotional farewell’ doesn’t begin to do justice to it. Words, music, silence, ceremony, humour and communitas melded into a rather special parting of friends. The full Cathedral was a tribute to the respect and affection he has earned here in the North East after only a year.  

Today, the day after, some choristers have come to the Deanery for tea. I meet each of the year groups annually to help them think about Christian faith and what their involvement in the Cathedral means to them. Over chocolate cakes, I asked them what they had made of the service.  ‘Brilliant!’ they said, which pleased me. Everyone I’d spoken to after the service had said the same, but choristers don’t always enthuse about liturgy. ‘What did you enjoy about it?’ I asked.  ‘The Bishop has a great sense of humour.’ ‘It was funny when he couldn’t unwrap the leaving gifts.’  ‘All the cameras were looking straight at us.’ And then, less whimsically, ‘Love the Kenneth Leighton Magnificat’. 

Then someone said: ‘But I was sad too.’ Another added, ‘Yes, there was a point in the service when I found I was feeling something.’  Some others nodded, recognising that these two lads spoke for them.  I asked what had touched them. ‘When you and the Bishop walked alone up to the high altar with the big gold stick, and disappeared behind the screen, and when you both came out again, it had gone’.  I have to say that the youngsters’ grasp of the power of well-crafted ritual pleased me even more than their enthusiasm had done.

In case you don’t grasp the significance of this action let me explain. It’s about the symbolism of laying down office and leaving behind the responsibilities that go with it. The ‘big gold stick’ is the Bishop’s staff or crozier. Some say that it is a sign of the Bishop’s authority and jurisdiction in his diocese; others that it represents his pastoral care of his people. Either way, he lays it down when he stops being Bishop of his diocese. In Durham, by long tradition, the ‘spiritualities’, as they are called, are ‘guarded’ by the Cathedral Chapter because the Cathedral is the Bishop’s church and houses his ‘cathedra’ or seat.

The slow walk the Bishop and I were making was to Cuthbert’s shrine, the Cathedral’s emotional and spiritual heart.  In the privacy of this hidden, holy place behind the high altar, the Bishop handed the crozier back to me as Dean.  In the name of the Cathedral Chapter (its governing body), I received the crozier and laid it on the shrine, the great black slab that marks the place of his burial. It was a pledge to take good care of it (meaning the office as well as the object) until the next Bishop comes into the shrine to take it up again during his enthronement that marks the beginning of new chapter for us all.

We stayed there silently for a while, each of us alone with our thoughts and prayers. I’m not sure I can put into words the profound significance of that moment. Then we emerged and walked back down the quire to the crossing where he knelt before the Bishop of Jarrow and me.  Bishop Mark Bryant commissioned him to go out to his new work in the spirit of our northern saints; and I blessed him in the name of the people of the diocese. Then Justin blessed all of us, and soon after that it was over.

Too soon, some of us were thinking.  As he said, his farewell sermon should have been ten years in the preparation, not just one. And yet we're proud here in Durham to be sending this good man to Canterbury. And the affection, the thank-yous, the prayers, and the memories will linger for a long time to come. If there had to be a parting, it could not have been better marked than this. And the choristers knew it.  

 

 

Religion by Degrees: thoughts on Graduation Day

It’s been graduation week in Durham. 

The peninsula has been a kaleidoscope of colour as academic staff and graduating students don their gowns and hoods and process into the Cathedral to receive their degrees.  The new Chancellor, Sir Thomas Allen, was installed at a ceremony on Tuesday.  Then he presided over no fewer than 14 congregations. Many thousands of people: graduands and their families, honorary graduands, staff, governors and alumni have passed through the Cathedral.  It has been a happy and enjoyable week.

The Dean of Durham is an ex officio governor of the University. This recalls the history of Durham University, founded in 1832 by the Bishop and the Cathedral’s Dean and Chapter.  The Bishop gave his castle as its first college, and the Cathedral gave large estates to secure its endowment.  It was also influential in shaping the direction of the young institution, and its first Chancellor, 100 years ago, was a Dean of Durham. 

I make a point of being at all the ceremonies.  I sit on the platform with the Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor and the other University senior staff.  Most of the ceremony involves sitting still and ‘lending tone’ as we deans sometimes say.  If you enjoy people-watching this is fertile theatre: each graduand has his or her own way of mounting the dais and shaking the Chancellor’s hand (or offering a more intimate gesture).  It’s like Peter Brook’s Empty Space: each time the stage is crossed, a new drama is created.  The Chancellor is a lively speaker whose love of the north-east is infectious.  And I have to say that compared to many other such ceremonies I have been to, Durham does it well.  

It’s customary for the Dean to give a welcome at the very beginning: guests at graduations are the Cathedral’s guests as well as the University’s.  So I take this seriously because it sets the tone of the whole event.  And it’s not quite as obvious as it sounds because the majority of those who have come for the ceremony will not be used to sitting in a church.  Many of them, especially if they have come from overseas, will belong to another world faith.  Many more will be agnostics or have no faith at all (the Vice-Chancellor makes no secret of his thoroughgoing atheism). 

When I first arrived in Durham, I was asked to say in my welcome that a graduation ceremony is not a religious service.  As a now wholly-secular organisation, the University is highly sensitive about not conveying the wrong message by holding congregations in the Cathedral.  So I have complied ever since.  The formula is something like: ‘this is a working Christian church, but this is not a religious event.  So whatever your faith tradition, I hope you feel at home in this great building’. 

But this week I have wondered about whether this is an appropriate or even an honest thing to say.  It suggests that the Cathedral is simply a very grand shed in which to hold a big secular event.  There’s no point in wishing that we could ‘bless’ these ceremonies with a prayer as some Scottish universities still do.  When at my first congregation I ended by saying to the graduands, ‘God bless you wherever your paths take you in the future’ I was roundly told off for offending susceptibilities. So this is not going to happen under the present leadership.

But there is a deeper question here.  To my mind, any ceremony in a sacred building takes on the character of liturgy, even if God is never mentioned.  You simply can’t do ritual in a Cathedral without the Cathedral itself having a say in what goes on. And Durham Cathedral unambiguously says, in the old words of the Delphic oracle, ‘whether recognised or not, the deity is present’.  In such a numinous, transformative space, there is a powerful and compelling religious message. The building shapes our words and actions in ways we can’t predict and don’t necessarily intend.  Sometimes, after a graduation, parents will say: ‘thank you for that service which we enjoyed so much’.

So it’s simply not true that ‘this is not a religious ceremony’.  The Cathedral defines it as being precisely that, and as liturgists say, the building always wins in the end. Perhaps it would be better if I said: ‘you are welcome here, whatever your faith background. Make of this event what you will.  Be glad to be in this great Cathedral and let it speak to you in whatever way you are ready to listen.  This Cathedral was built for celebrations and enjoys them.  So let it help you celebrate today’.   

I have a few months to think about this: the next graduations are in January.  Meanwhile, the PA and CCTV installations are coming down, and the nave is returning to its customary calm.  For a few hours: tomorrow it’s ordination day.