RACHAEL INVESTIGATES: MORE REVELATIONS ABOUT ANGLO-CATHOLIC EVANGELISM PART 1 OF 2

My job is to support Christians in sharing their faith with others. It’s to keep evangelism on the table as a core thing that we do. It’s to help people to take every opportunity to appropriately, comfortably and lovingly give a reason for their faith in the different situations they find themselves; at the pub, online, at Nandos, in church.

And if I’m to be at all useful to the churches I serve, I need to properly understand if different church traditions approach this business of faith sharing differently. Logic would suggest they probably do, since they do most other things differently.

So, let me introduce to you Mother Gemma Sampson, Curate of St Aidan’s and St Columba’s in Hartlepool whom I’m visiting to grill her on this subject of Anglo-Catholic evangelism, just like I did Father Kyle McNeil in my last article. I wanted to interview them both, recognising that Traditional Catholics and Liberal Catholics may well have different approaches to this.

We’ve just got back from evening Mass at St Aidan’s, and to my delight, Gemma has provided a Chinese takeaway which makes me think Anglo-Catholics must be pretty magnificent people. Hanging out with them always seems to involve food.

As I munch on prawn crackers (Gemma would like me to stress that she wasn’t because she’s a vegan!) I start with some pretty basic questions, like this one, to set the scene: how would I know if I was in an Anglo-Catholic church?

“In Anglo-Catholic churches you’ll always find a dedication to Our Lady. The worship will be sacramental [there’ll always be one of the sacraments like Mass or a Baptism within the service. It wouldn’t ever be just preaching and singing for example]. It’ll also be liturgical [centred around a particular printed set of words]. It’s where you’ll find the bells and smells style worship. And you’ll often find Anglo-Catholic churches in places where poverty is higher.”

Our Lady (AKA Mary, Jesus’ mum) gets lots of attention in this tradition and Gemma absolutely loves her. She gets really animated at this point.

“Mary has a massive prominence in our worship. Asking Mary to pray for us is definitely one of the features of Anglo-Catholic worship. In a lot of churches there’ll be a Lady Chapel [a whole chapel dedicated to Mary], and in Anglo-Catholic churches Mary will feature in the Eucharistic prayer and intercessions. Plus the festivals of Mary will be observed, like the Annunciation, and Mary’s month of May [special devotions and services held in the month of May, sometimes outdoors].”

I’ve experienced this myself. I’ve preached in Gemma’s churches a few times and worshipped at St Aidan’s at Easter. It’s where I first learned to recite my Hail Mary. Mary’s everywhere.

“What else is distinctive about Anglo-Catholic worship?” I ask.

“Well,” she leans in over the noodles and does her best serious face “the other thing about Anglo-Catholic worship is it’s all about reverence and awe. There’s no talk about Jesus being my personal Lord and saviour. It’s about the whole church. Community. It’s more God almighty than God all matey.”

I snigger. I love this line. And I know what she means. In Anglo-Catholic churches I always feel very wowed by the experience. It feels formal but in a good way. Awe-inspiring. I love that feeling. It’s brought me to tears so many times and feels incredibly special. I don’t get the same feeling (or at least haven’t yet) in evangelical churches. Yet, I can’t help but also lean comfortably towards the idea that Jesus is my best buddy. Anyway, moving on…

“So bearing all of this distinctiveness in mind, and as I’m here to explore evangelism, tell me Gemma, how do you share your faith?” She thinks for a moment then begins,

“Historically, in the Anglo-Catholic tradition there weren’t things like Alpha courses or Home Groups or that sort of thing. What you’ll find more of is the practical meeting of human need. So, like feeding the hungry.”

Feeding the hungry? Even though I’ve already heard what Fr Kyle had to say on this subject, this kind of answer still stumps me. When I think of sharing my faith, I picture me talking to a person or group of people about how, where and why I became a Christian. I think about story-telling and conversations. Testimony. Words. The Word. So the answer “feeding the hungry” is confusing. It seems to not actually answer the question I asked.

But I trust Gemma so I think maybe I’m asking the wrong question. Or maybe my whole understanding of sharing faith is just completely different from hers. So I press on because I honestly think I’ve misunderstood,

“OK, feeding the hungry… but what about deliberately and obviously talking about or telling people about Jesus? Would you do that? Do you do that?”

“Yes.” She tells me, very matter of fact. I’m confused. I still think we have our wires crossed. “Could you describe that?” I ask.

“Well when we’re feeding the hungry [she means literally, at the kitchen they’ve set up in her church which feeds hundreds and hundreds of local poor people] I bang on about how Jesus thought this was really important and how it’s a Gospel imperative. I tell people about how much he did it.”

Could you help them reach their target so they can get a proper kitchen instead of just containers? Click here.

Hallelujah. We are on the same wave length. This wonderful, intelligent and deeply committed priest does know what I’m asking, and does, literally, tell people about Jesus. She simply tells the hungry people who turn up at her church’s kitchen why she’s caring for them in the first place.

Mother Gemma elaborates,

“So what I wouldn’t say is, ‘Oh you’re hungry, what you really need is to know Jesus and then you won’t be hungry anymore.’ I think the Pope says something like ‘You feed the hungry and then you pray for them and that is how prayer works. You don’t just pray that God will end poverty. You meet the need then you pray.’ I think that’s a very authentic expression of the Christian faith. People want to help those in need. I just connect the dots by saying ‘Well I feed hungry people because I love Jesus and Jesus massively cares for the poor. And Jesus is food and we’re fed in the Mass so we can feed other people.’”

And then her eyes properly light up and she puts down her fork. She’s just mentioned Mass, and as an Anglo-Catholic, she definitely has more to say on this topic.

“I haven’t mentioned the real presence yet! I have to tell you about that. It’ll blow your mind.” I put my fork down too. It’s about to get serious.

(here’s part 2 but warning… it gets pretty weepy at the end!)

RACHAEL INVESTIGATES: ANGLO-CATHOLIC EVANGELISM PART 2 OF 2

Read Part 1 here where I had to get my head around some basic assumptions of Anglo-Catholic worship, in order to set the scene.

We’ve been chatting in the vicarage for a couple of hours now and mostly Fr Kyle has been leading the conversation and teaching me some important things about his tradition, but most of what he’s prepared (yes of course he’s prepared hand outs and a reading list! Have you met Fr Kyle?) has been exclusively on mission, and yet I came here to talk about evangelism. I might not be a theologian, but I know they’re not interchangeable words.

I tentatively mention this and he explains. This is partly because he had forgotten exactly why I said I was coming (!), but also because, for me to understand evangelism in the catholic tradition, I need to understand the catholic view of mission first. I need to understand the huge importance placed upon community, upon the Church as the collective people – a ‘communion’ of God’s people, living and departed. Because it’s not just about individual soul saving. By this I understand he is alluding to the caricature that, with mission and evangelism in the opposite end of the church – in the evangelical tradition, more emphasis is placed upon one’s individual relationship with Jesus as one’s personal saviour (this is something I intend to discover when I visit some evangelical churches to discuss the same topic).

Back to Anglo-Catholicism…

Fr Kyle says, “If God’s one plan for the world (and there’s no backup plan) is the mission of the Church, then mission is only ever done through the Church. Seeing where God’s prompting us to be and getting stuck in. That’s the (traditional) Catholic interpretation. Where God wants us to be he’s already sown seeds. He’s sown seeds everywhere. But for them to bear fruit, they must do so through the Church.”

I’m told the whole purpose of catholic evangelism is to bring people to a living relationship with Jesus in the Mass. I ask for clarification on the phrase “bring people to a living relationship with Jesus”. I want to know what that actually looks like; what it means practically. So I ask “What does the word evangelism mean to you?” After a long pause, and careful consideration, he says it’s “Announcing the Good News of God’s love and showing people how they can enter into it more deeply. That relationship of love begins with Baptism, and it’s achieved primarily by encountering Jesus in the Eucharist.”

The Eucharist, it’s no surprise, is key here. As I understand it, if you’re an Anglo-Catholic, to share your faith with someone isn’t simply so that their soul can be saved through hearing the Word, and you leave it at that. It’s about bringing them into the Church (the people and the building) so that they can experience Jesus through his body and blood in the sacrament of Holy Communion, which isn’t only about being part of a shared meal, being in community, but actually makes them a bit more like Jesus every day.

“So,” I press further, “Does it mean actually telling people about Jesus?” I want to really get to the heart of what evangelism looks like in Anglo-Catholicism.

“Of course,” he replies.

I want details. I want specifics. How does it happen? Fr Kyle begins his answer with a brief history lesson and I worry he’s being evasive, but he’s not at all, just setting the scene so that I understand:

“The main aim is to form people into communities that are Eucharistic and that invite people on a lifelong journey of sanctification. Traditional Anglo-Catholic parishes tend disproportionately to be in areas of deprivation, or that have a history of deprivation. This is because the C of E was not quick to plant churches in the new working class communities that came out of the industrial revolution in the 1800s. But at that time Catholic minded missionaries did, and staffed them. That’s why there are more Anglo-Catholic churches in deprived areas.

“This is not only a historic pattern when the movement was beginning, but is still the same now. So the method of evangelisation in such communities has been incarnational. Relational. It’s engaging in presence for the long haul. A slow-burn evangelistic method. That’s partly to do with the aim of taking people on a journey – of ‘conversion’ being a life-long process of becoming more like Jesus – but also to do with the sorts of communities that we’re serving.

“In the past when clergy numbers were higher it meant clerical presence. Being involved in the local community. Conversations. Connections.”

I’ve already seen this in action today. When we were walking through the parish I was very surprised to see how respectful, even deferential two youths were to Fr Kyle when we passed by. They were well-used to seeing a man in a long black cassock walking through the streets. The church still means an awful lot here. Whether they’re believers or not, it’s clearly normal to see your local priest out and about.

“So if anyone was telling people about Jesus it would be the priest?” I ask.

“In the past, yes. But since the object of the exercise is to form a worshipping community, historically a great deal of energy has also been invested by the whole congregation in social events and activities that benefit the local community.”

I get that it’s natural that the priest does it, but I want to know if the congregation ever do it themselves and if there are any particular barriers to sharing their faith – any barriers that are particular to Anglo-Catholics. I’m told there are no more than in any other tradition. There are the common barriers of talking about something deeply personal, which touches on emotion. People have a fear of rejection.

This is a very stark point and I know for a fact he’s right that these are the kinds of barriers faced by Christians of all flavours. Christian speaker Michael Harvey has written and said much on this tricky topic of our reluctance to invite people to church, and it seems to cross tradition boundaries. It’s something most of us find really hard.

But is our willingness or reluctance to share our faith really nothing at all to do with our theology or tradition? I put to Fr Kyle that surely it’s the theology which creates a culture of worship and “doing church” that feeds certain behaviours, and surely that affects how likely an ordinary lay person is to share their faith, and how they go about doing it. Could it be, that whilst it’s true that people from all traditions find it hard, some congregations are naturally more inclined to have conversations about faith with friends and strangers than others?

“Yes,” he agrees. “It is possible that, because the Christian life as an Anglo-Catholic invites you to explore it – requires you to experience it – it makes the Christian life more difficult to just explain. You can’t just lay it out on a stall.” We’re back to the importance of community again and the Eucharist. It’s much more than words. I’m beginning to understand, I think. Evangelism looks very different in traditional Anglo-Catholicism because how it understands and does mission is so different from other traditions. It’s a slow burn thing. Perhaps less explicit?

We leave it there for now but my investigations into Evangelism in different church traditions is far from over. My next stop is dinner with Mother Gemma Sampson, Curate of two Anglo-Catholic churches in Hartlepool; St Aidan’s and St Columba’s. I’m keen to see if she can shed any further light on this topic. I’m off to find out, and could be coming to a church near you soon.

RACHAEL INVESTIGATES: ANGLO-CATHOLIC EVANGELISM PART 1 OF 2

THERE’S STILL LOADS I DON’T KNOW ABOUT WHY WE DO WHAT WE DO, AND I KNOW FOR A FACT THERE ARE OTHER CONFUSED PEOPLE LIKE ME OUT THERE.

“RACHAEL INVESTIGATES” IS A MINI-SERIES I’M WRITING ABOUT ALL KINDS OF FAITH TOPICS, AND THOSE SPECIFICALLY ON EVANGELISM WILL ALSO BE SHARED HERE

I’M ON A MISSION TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT TRADITIONS DO CHURCH.

This one is about how Anglo-Catholics approach evangelism, so I’m catching up with father Kyle McNeil, the priest of St Andrew’s Blackhall and St Mary’s Horden, diocese of Durham. Before I can understand Anglo-Catholic evangelism, I need to understand more about the tradition itself.

Today I’ve come to St Mary’s for midweek Mass. It happens to be the Feast of St Mark, the day in the church year when we remember the Gospel writer. He was an evangelist. It feels like it’s meant to be.

As I walk in to the very beautiful and striking church on the green, I spot Fr Kyle. We greet each other in whispers. I don’t know who starts it, but we both do it. I’m not sure why, but there’s just something about the place. It seems fitting to lower our voices from their (OK, my) usual decibel.

I take my seat and my eyes wander over the statues of the Virgin Mary and the beautiful architecture, and then something really gets my attention. Fr Kyle comes out of the vestry to begin the service, wearing a very smart, white lace garment called an alb. It’s like a surplice but longer and with sleeves (I had to look up the word, so for those of you for whom these religious words are also a mystery, it’s a “white linen vestment of ankle length, worn over a cassock”). He’s also wearing a square black hat with bobbles on called a biretta. These things are very eye catching, and to someone unused to seeing them, they also seem strange. But a far better word for strange is special. He’s dressed in very special clothing, because he’s about to do something very special. He’s about to lead us in worship.

Pic from “IN DEFENSE OF LACE ALBS”

I think I get it for the first time.

A bell rings from somewhere. I’m hoping there’ll be incense too, but alas there is none. I later learn it’s because incense is used at Solemn Mass – services that include chant and hymns on Sundays and major feast days. This Wednesday, like most weekdays, was a shorter, said service (sometimes called ‘Low Mass’).

I turn to my service booklet and to my delight it’s full of helpful instructions and guidance. Even certain words have their meaning explained, like “brethren”. It’s hands down the most informative service booklet I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot.

As we go through the service I don’t catch everything the priest says. It seems some prayers and words are private in some way. I don’t get to join in. At other times, he’s saying stuff perfectly audibly but not according to the words in the service booklet. He’s saying extra stuff from the Missal – another book that only he has sight of. I’m not used to this. Usually the churches I worship in have pretty much everything typed out in the booklet or on a screen, or they’re fully public messages for everyone. He’s also really, really far away at times, and I’m sitting near the front.

This perturbs me a bit. Like a super energetic toddler, I just want to be involved in everything. I want to hear and see and smell and experience every bit of worship. I love the mystery of Anglo-Catholic worship because it’s a sensory delight, but it seems today it’s more mystifying than mystery. What’s he saying? Who are all those saints he’s listing? What’s he doing now? He’s so far away up there at the altar. Over lunch (a great steak pie and veg that Fr Kyle throws together back at his vicarage), he explains to me why it’s OK that I’m not involved in everything.

“The Catholic understanding of the Mass is the re-presentation [he pronounces it like this because he means the presenting again, rather than the usual way we say representation, though in a sense both words work. I love it that Fr Kyle is a self-confessed pedant like me] of Christ’s sacrifice from Last Supper to Resurrection. There were parts of Christ’s last days when he was alone, doing things privately, praying intimately to his Father. And some of it was fully public, as he hung upon the cross. The priest is standing in his place. As a priest, some of what I do is personal, intimate, and some is public for the whole congregation to see”.

It makes perfect sense to me now. My inner child who wants to have sticky fingers in every pie whilst having a good nosy round at everything that’s going on, is placated. I’m reminded of the words “Great is the mystery of faith.” Indeed it is. And I like that.

Back in the church we’re getting to the bit in the service where the priest delivers a homily (talk). It’s all about evangelism, of course, because not only is it the Feast of St Mark the Evangelist, but he’s got a visiting evangelist who’s come along especially to discuss evangelising. It’s evangelism-tastic. He encourages us, the congregation to share our faith in simple ways with our friends and neighbours and reminds us of the perils those first evangelists faced and lengths to which they went to share the Word. It’s really uplifting and, I admit, unexpected. I wonder what it would look like in practice as I stare at the backs of the heads of the other worshippers.

Photo by Sacred Destinations at flickr.com

The service is over and I’m treated to wonderful hospitality in their church hall. I can see that the social side of church life is very important to these people. Friendship groups bond over tea and biscuits and Fr Kyle does the rounds, visiting different tables and catching up with his flock.

After enough shortbread, we go for a walk around the parish boundaries so that I can get a feel for the context in which this Anglo-Catholic priest ministers (ex-mining coastal village, high unemployment, lots of empty houses, pretty tough for everyone) and then we go back to his for the aforementioned lunch and a long chat.

I comment on the service booklet and how good it is. He says it’s partly about hospitality; something very important in his tradition. It explains things well enough for people to be comfortable with the mysterious environment that is Anglo-Catholic worship. “But,” I note, “it doesn’t have everything in it does it?”

“No,” he says.

“That’s so you can look up from the words and let the experience wash over you. You’re not tied to the script. Often in C of E service booklets every word of liturgy is typed out. But this is often deliberately not done in churches of the Catholic tradition. If you’re tied to the book you’re being short-changed. There’s things to see and experience. Today the church vestments were red as we remembered St Mark. Tomorrow night it’ll all be gold for our dedication festival. There’s a lot to take in: you miss that if every word is typed out. If there are words said that aren’t typed out, it encourages people to listen to the words in a different way.”

Again, this makes perfect sense to me. I can’t hear everything he says as some of it is intentionally private, and I can’t follow some bits that I can hear so that I can concentrate better with my head and eyes up. I am not a slave to the words of the service book.

This leads him onto his second point about hospitality; community.

“Not being able to follow everything creates spaces for people to experience the mystery. But it can make a newcomer confused, and this is where it’s important to show people what to do, explain where they are in the order of service. Placing the mystery in the context of community. Getting that balance is very important.”

“That sounds good.” I say. “Does it actually happen?” Fr Kyle hasn’t been in post long so perhaps it’s an unfair question. He diplomatically answers that, as with all things, it’s a work in progress. “It’s aspirational.” He says.

I think it’s a brilliant sentiment though; experienced members encouraging and guiding those less experienced. Sounds to me like sharing one’s faith. Which brings me back to why I’m here. Evangelism…

Forays in Fellowship

I was recently thinking about how much my life has changed from this time last year (Facebook Time Hop helps!) and felt the urge to explain just what a huge part one small group of women in Oxfordshire who call themselves Pitstop, have played in my life.

I joined Pitstop (it didn’t really have a name at the time, I used to call it the Wednesday Morning Ladies’ Group) just after Easter last year. I had recently become a Christian whilst serving in Afghanistan but because I came to faith on my own, rather than as part of a friendship group or family, I found myself yearning to be around other Christians. I began attending services at my local Anglican Church back home, but because I was stationed at Shrivenam and was on a language course at the Defence Academy, I was only able to travel home about once a month. I didn’t feel part of a Christian community, I wasn’t familiar with ‘Christian ways’ and my early experiences as a Christian had all been worshipping in tents or outdoors in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. I didn’t have any Christian friends and I was worried I was beginning to bore my non-Christian friends by banging on about Jesus too much. I needed a safe place I could explore my new faith.

I looked online and found that a group met just outside camp on Wednesday mornings, so I adapted my study routine to accommodate this and turned up one day and introduced myself. I had never been around such a big group of Christian women before. I’d been around Christians in church but since we spend most of the time facing forwards and listening to the Vicar or singing hymns, there isn’t exactly loads of scope for interaction when you’re a newcomer (and there’should only so much coffee you can drink afterwards).

What I found was an eclectic mix of women of all ages and backgrounds, many of whom were attached to the Armed Forces in some way, some of whom brought along their babies or children, and all of whom were welcoming and friendly people. I immediately felt at home there. Over the coming months I ate a lot of biscuits and cake and the occasional breakfast buffet, I drank a lot of tea and coffee and I learned what it means to worship in a community.

There were lots of surprises in store. Firstly, I’d never prayed out loud before, apart from the Lord’s Prayer or other set prayers in service booklets that my local church uses. I had never in my life spontaneously prayed out loud for something or someone. I had never been part of a Bible study group. I’d never been asked to comment on a passage from the Old Testament and consider what it might mean. I’d never sat by a piano in an almost empty church and sung unfamiliar hymns in a group of only 7 or 8 others. To me, all these things were both daunting and delightfully exciting. I so looked forward to Wednesdays.

For the first time ever I felt I could freely talk about Jesus, though to be honest I did a lot more listening than talking- unusual for me. I listened because, as far as I was concerned, I had little to add. I didn’t know the first thing about God, and I certainly wasn’t familiar with the colossally huge Bible. I didn’t yet know the Christian lingo. I was only just learning what fellowship meant and slowly but surely I was learning to incorporate phrases like ‘I feel so blessed’ and ‘Let’s worship together’ into my vernacular. I was also learning not to swear.

One of Pitstop’s greatest assets is that it’s ecumenical- another new word for me! I didn’t know or understand it at the time, but our group was filled with women from different Christian denominations who each worshipped differently and even had differing opinions on certain aspects of theology. But I never really knew who was from which church because we never focused on that, and I was as yet too much of a novice to spot the Evangelicals with their arms in the air. I was denomination-blind. And ater all, we were all there because we were Christians. The differences meant it was like a rich fruit cake of ideas and experiences, rather than a bland, plain scone drawn from only one church tradition.

Within those walls we shared deeply personal struggles and situations and exciting ways we saw God working in our lives.

I learned an awful lot from Liesel Parkinson who taught me not only about characters and stories from the Bible, but also how to illustrate and explain them creatively. One day we walked in and she had used a bundled sleeping bag to represent Jesus lying asleep in the boat as the storm raged around Him and His disciples. Another time we shared loaves and fish in the sunshine as we thought about another of His miracles.

The big moment for me came when Liesel asked if I would lead a study series on a topic of my choosing, as she would be in Cyprus due to her work with the Armed Forces Christian Union. As part of my own Christian calling, I’d already decided to leave the Army and begin a degree in Theology, Ministry and Mission at Cranmer Hall, Durham University, which I hoped would help me understand whether Ordained Ministry was what God was calling me to do (at the time it seemed very unrealistic indeed!). Liesel could see that it would do me good to lead the group over a couple of weeks, so I said yes. As a Captain in the Army I was certainly familiar with leadership, but I’d never tackled a subject area before that was so alien to me. What was expected of me? How would the women respond? Would I pitch it at the right level? How could I teach mature Christians when I knew so little about Christ?

As it happened, my attempt at leading Bible Study and leading worship went well, thanks to plenty of supportive prayers from the group and many late nights poring over books. I was given the opportunity to research, discover and interpret a Biblical theme, work with religious texts, choose hymns, write prayers and think up questions to pose to the group. And all of this in the safety of an intimate group of friends. This experience was a real turning point for me. It helped me to feel more comfortable with what I felt called to do/be in the future, and more prepared for beginning my studies in the much more immediate future.

Since then, I’ve completed my first part-time year at Cranmer Hall, and though I’ve had to postpone my studies (I ran out of money rather quicker than expected), I have recently begun a full-time position working for the Diocese of Durham. I’m running a two-year project called The Generous Giving Project which aims to bring about a culture of change in the North-East in people’s attitudes towards generous giving and money in relation to God. My work involves writing about faith, teaching others about faith, presenting to Christian groups, and occasionally preaching in churches on Sundays. It’s incredible to think that only a year ago I was so daunted at the prospect of leading a Bible Study at Pitstop! Who’d have thought I’d end up working for the C of E?

God has guided me expertly, and opened doors I would never have thought to walk through. I still very much consider myself to be a novice Christian, but I keep being told that, in this job, it can be a good thing. Being exposed to different traditions at Pitstop, plus worshipping in an Anglo-Catholic church at home, and attending a very Evangelical seminary means that I don’t really fit well into any particular church tradition, but rather feel comfortable slotting in to many. Thanks to the support of Pitstop, I could develop and grow as a Christian and see Jesus’ kindness and warmth reflected in the women who made up its numbers. So, a big thank you to Liesel and the team, and a big hurrah for all the other Christian fellowship groups across the land who provide a supportive and safe place to learn about God. Well done you.