VICAR'S LETTER

17 Sundon Road     
Streatley      

February, 2005      

Dear All 

The subject of the recent sermons at Streatley has been 'a new beginning'. This, too, was the theme of this year's Retreat. At the Retreat, however, we considered the need for a new beginning for the church as a whole. Over the past forty years or so, the church has been passing through a crisis of confidence. It has become diffident in matters of faith. It has become hesitant in matters of morals. This crisis of confidence has had the effect of distorting the structures of our faith. We looked at these matters and at how they might be addressed.

The crisis of faith has been provoked by the tide of secularism that has swept with gathering momentum over the land during the last half century. The devastation it has wrought on religion is plain for all to see. Church attendance has sharply declined. Sunday is no longer special. The Christian festivals, with the possible exception of Christmas, are no longer observed. What has given this wave its power is the myth that science has superseded religion. It is the fear that they are confronting the authority of science that has made people diffident about faith. A recent poll showed that 70% of the people of this country believe in God, but very few now make a public profession of that faith. There may be many reasons for this reticence, but one of them, almost for sure, is that they feel uncertain about their ability to make a public defence of what they believe. The antidote to this diffidence lies in recognising that except in very fringe matters - e.g. creation in seven days - science has not superseded religion, and does not presume to do so. The information that science yields is purely descriptive. It tells us how natural processes work. It says nothing at all, either way, about the interpretation that is to be placed on that information. It supports neither belief nor unbelief. Science and religion are not rivals. They are co-workers in the search for truth.

The last half-century has seen a crisis of faith. It has also seen a crisis in morals. Over that period, the moral consensus has broken down. Many things that were moral certainties half a century ago - the desirability of chastity before marriage and constancy in marriage, the undesirability of homosexuality - are certainties no longer. As a consequence of this breakdown, morality has now gone private. Each individual claims for his or herself the right to decide what is right or wrong for them.  The church, entirely understandably, has mirrored this confusion. It is divided between those who believe it is the church's job to uphold traditional values and those who believe that the church should be embracing a more flexible and inclusive morality. The way to steady the ship may be to remember what Jesus himself bequeathed to us. He did not bequeath a rigid moral system. On the contrary, he spent his life battling against the rigid morality of the Pharisees and ministering to its casualties. Nor, however, can one feel that he would have relished a moral vacuum. He would have recognised that in such a case control passes to either appetite or fashion. What he actually left us was a moral direction - 'Do the loving thing towards your neighbour'. In leaving us that, he left a foundation on which morality could be built and a test by which it could be measured. A church armed with this is equipped to make a powerful contribution to the re-ordering of morals, but to do it by prayerful consultation not by confrontation and division.

The crisis of confidence through which the church has been passing has produced diffidence in matters of faith and dividedness in matters of morals. It has also introduced a distortion into the very structure of our faith. We have compensated for our uncertainty in faith and morals, by rejoicing in what we are sure of - the duty to do all we could to work for social justice and the care of those in need. The achievements in this field be it globally, nationally, or locally, have been tremendous and the generosity and effort that have made this possible cannot be sufficiently applauded, but if we look at the overall picture of the resulting faith it does not accurately reflect the patterns set out by Christ. His priorities are clear - first, `love your God', second, `love your neighbour'. For him loving God unlocked all that is good in us causing love to flood out to neighbour. We are in danger, if we have not actually done it, of reversing those priorities. We are in danger of generating a faith that in practice if not in theory, gives `love your neighbour' priority over `love your God'. I recently came upon this description by William Penn of George Fox, the founder of Quakerism:

But above all he excelled in prayer. The inwardness and weight of his spirit, the reverence and solemnity of his address and behaviour, and the fewness and fullness of his words, have often struck even strangers with admiration, as they used to reach others with consolation. The most awful, living, reverent frame I ever felt or beheld, I must say, was his in prayer. And truly it was a testimony that he knew and lived nearer to the Lord that other men; for they that know him most will see most reason to approach him with reverence and fear.

This description serves as a poignant reminder of the dimension we are in danger of losing. We now need to pursue holiness as assiduously as we have practised compassion if we are to restore to wholeness our religious life.

A Retreat is a kind of stocktaking. It invites us to take stock of our own personal faith. It may also seek to take stock of where the church as a whole is up to. In so far as the stocktaking set out here is right, it suggests an agenda that to shape the life and worship of our own church over the coming year.

All best wishes

Roger

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