Yesterday, having just returned from Kazakhstan, I went with my family to support a friend being ordained in Leicester Cathedral. We left Croydon at 6.30am and got to Leicester in time to park the car and look for a place to get something to eat or drink. The first place we came across was a Wetherspoons pub, already open at 9.00am, and already with a number of people drinking. We felt a bit over-dressed while eating the fry-up and drinking coffee. By the time we left (around 9.45am) one bloke was on his third pint  and others were not far behind.

At 9.15am on a Sunday morning. What was about to happen in the Cathedral seemed a million miles away from this pub and its early boozers.

beerToday, while the Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans (FOCA) was being launched in London, I was doing a Parish Visit in a suburban parish. I have 102 parishes and visit each one for a day each four years (plus loads of other visits for services, etc., of course). These visits enable me to know the parishes better and gives the parishes access to me for whatever purpose they wish. Furthermore, I get the opportunity to encourage and raise questions/challenges about worship, mission, etc. The main thrust at the moment is questioning how each church can create the space in which people can learn to read and understand the Bible, growing confident in the content of Christian faith in order to be able to communicate and defend the faith.

While in this parish I spent some time in an open meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous and listened to many stories of grief and hope. What characterised this meeting was the raw honesty of those who spoke, the respectful attention of those who listened, the acceptance of failure and encouragement to try again, the promise of real fellowship in a common struggle. Here there was no posturing, no game playing, no self-righteousness or superiority, no judgment, no accusation. There was an articulated acceptance of a common condition, an explicit need for mutual support and a genuine mutual compassion.

To me it felt like what the church should be.

When I went into the room I got talking to a woman who questioned my presence there. She had had a bad experience of the church and my clerical collar and pectoral cross spoke to her primarily of authority and judgment. I held my cross and indicated that the man who was crucified on it was loved by those who knew their need and weren’t afraid to acknowledge it – and was crucified by those who put the purity of their religious institution above the signs of God’s presence and kingdom in their midst. We are all in need of confession, mutual support and God’s healing grace – alcoholics do not have a monopoly on this, but they are the most honest people you can meet.

It also got me wondering whether some of us have a ‘faith addiction’ in the sense that we fixate on elements of the faith, missing the broader point of it all and displaying the symptoms of addictive behaviour seen in other forms. Just wondering…

Anyway, I came home late tonight and have been reflecting on this. Should I have gone to the FCA launch? I know my credentials as a Christian and a bishop have been questioned, but that doesn’t worry me. I do not think that all in the Anglican garden is lovely and unproblematic. But I do think I chose well to be in a parish where the world is raw rather than in a meeting discussing protecting God from muckiness. I have come home to read again the Gospels and find that Jesus challenged the purity-lovers and healed those who had been excluded from the ‘church’, told that they did not count in God’s economy.

Given that the media have apparently ignored today’s launch, I have no idea what (if anything) happened. What I do know, however, is that while they were doing their holy stuff in London, I was seeing healing happen in a place where the Gospel is being lived out and struggled with on the ground. I was with some people whom I respect enormously for their courage and discipline – and for their love and compassion.

I think that is what Jesus looks like in the Gospels – and the church is called to look something like the Jesus we read about in the Gospels. So, regardless of the judgments of others who are (obviously) closer to God than I am, I will keep plugging away at encouraging the churches in their faithful ministry, trying to inspire them with a vision for the Gospel and opening up the Bible to and for them.

And I won’t worry too much about those who (in the words of Karen Armstrong I heard on the car radio on the way home) are ‘more concerned to be right than to be compassionate’ – or something like that.