The Place of the Building
I spent some time with the verger this morning. The vergers job, it seems to me, is to prepare the building for worship and generally oversee the daily operations of the building for those who use it, residents and visitors alike. Alongside that there are some ceremonial aspects which involve a black cloak and a staff. But why a Verger?
What has struck me in the first few days here is the place of place. In youth ministry, space is important, a space to meet and be, but that space is mobile. It’s fabulous if you have a room, or even a building for your youth ministry, but most churches don’t and actually are not the poorer for it. Finding homes, rooms and halls [and even different churches] for space to meet and be is part of being in the mobile, ever moving culture. But as a vicar, place becomes important. Having a large church building [even if in comparison to others it is small] defines the starting place for you ministry. It is base camp as Geraldine calls it in the first episode of Vicar of Dibley.
Base camp has a history, a physical history of the building and the communities that have called it ‘their church’ over its time. This history not only defines the physical space with the various stones, pews, monuments and woodwork. It also defines the spiritual space of various practices and ‘ways of doing things’. Now whilst I have experienced this before in all the churches I have worked in, I had a kind of free pass because of the type of ministry I was involved in which was always seen as radical and new. So I have never taken much thought over how the place defines your ministry. David relates the process of trying to move communion down from the high altar to a table in front of the chancel steps. This was not welcomed but a 6 month trial was agreed. After 6 months 65 survey responses were received and only one indicated that they were happy with the new arrangement. David now does communion at the high altar even though this is against much of his desire, theology and conviction. His ministry has been shaped, or perhaps shoe-horned into, the place.
Because of this strong tie between the vicar and the building, even ministry in the community ultimately refers back to the building. Introducing yourself as the vicar is met with reference to the church, silently or vocally. Being in the schools, council meetings, shops and community events does not and cannot separate you from the building. Of course some church leaders have released themselves from such physical constrains and now meet in a café or school building, but they have in fact just swapped one set of physical constrains for another.
Two thoughts follow. The first is that such a constraint forces you to engage with where that community is coming from. A thorough appreciation of the journey thus far is the foundation of any journey yet to come. It needs to be thorough because just observing the superficial appearances does not reveal the relational investment that members of the community might have with the history and thus the physical aspects of the building. In needs to be an appreciation because just dismissing various episodes in their story as old or worse still as misguided in theology or practice simply means that they won’t follow any leadership you might have to offer.
These thoughts at least, lead me to the attitude change that needs to take place. That is, to learn to love your building: live in it, hear it breath, listen for the heart beat and watch it welcome its visitors old and new. Even if you eventually need to let your building lie in peace and die, you must be in a place to be bereaved before such a suggestion enters your thoughts, let alone the PCC agenda.
In this context, being the Priest-in-Charge sounds rather strange and even arrogant. For surely, until you’re in a place where you love your building you are but a visiting-priest. Visiting and joining in the faith journey of a community.