What’s the one thing we need in order to be church?
This autumn marks the 20th anniversary since the completion of the Priory Church Nicholson pipe organ. In 1999, the sense of excitement in the air after the many years of hard work was tangible, even to us newbies (Jen and I had only just moved to Christchurch). Hearing such a magnificent instrument played so expertly week in, week out by Geoffrey Morgan, supported over the years by Andrew Post, Hugh Morris and Simon Earle, has been a delight.
But I found myself wondering the other day, would I worship at the Priory even if there wasn’t an organ? After all, every church I’ve been a part of since I became a Christian in my mid-twenties has had one. Whilst I’ve plenty of experience of worship led by a band—at other churches as well as the Second Sunday service that we used to have in Priory Hall—when I think of church music, it’s a pipe organ that immediately comes to mind.
That said, if, God forbid, the organ were to break and we weren’t able to fix it or raise the funds to replace it, would I move church? I don’t think I would, as it’s not just the organ that we have as part of our musical tradition. We also have our choirs to lead us in worship.
But what if, I wondered, we weren’t to have a choir any more. Would I stay or is it at that point that would I look to join a church elsewhere? Such thoughts soon led me to question not just at what point I might be likely to move to another church, but more fundamentally, how much of the way we worship together is actually necessary for us to be the church.
Every Sunday morning, those worshipping at the 8am Book of Common Prayer Holy Communion service do so without an organ or choir. At that service, which dates back to the 16th century, there are no hymns or any musical elements whatsoever. But it doesn’t feel as if it’s an act of worship that’s in any way lacking.
Furthermore, do we even need a sermon? Again, the 8am Holy Communion service would suggest that we don’t (though in the prayer book, provision is made for a homily but, as at the Priory, this is often not observed). So the first act of worship at the Priory every Sunday is one with no organ, no hymns, no choir and no sermon. But, as I say, it doesn’t feel as if anything’s missing. It’s a beautiful act of worship in a stunning setting.
Taking the thought experiment further still, do we actually need a church building to be the church worshipping God? Recent history in our own parish would suggest not. The Second Sunday service that I mentioned a moment ago took place in the old church hall, a building that wasn’t consecrated. This is often the case. For example, one of our fellow churches in Christchurch, GodFirst, meets every Sunday morning to worship in the Regent Centre.
In fact, we don’t need to move beyond our own homes for a space in which to gather and worship God. Just as the early church did for the first 300 or so years, all around the world in our own time the church meets in people’s homes. It’s a key feature of the church in rural China, which has been growing at a phenomenal rate over the last 30 years. Closer to home, the Diocese of Oxford is committed as part of their church growth strategy to the planting of 750 new congregations including house churches, very much akin to our own small groups. In these, we can meet, read the Bible, pray, listen to teaching, and yes, even sing, too, if we wish. So a dedicated ‘church’ building itself isn’t essential for us to worship God together as the church.
What about the Eucharist? Well, obviously, as Home Communion—for those physically unable to attend a church service—attests, we don’t need a big consecrated building with an organ, choir and sermon for that to happen either. The Sacrament can be celebrated at people’s homes. That obviously raises some practical issues, especially if we’re used to receiving the Lord’s Supper every week. But this itself is a relatively recent post-war liturgical development. Prior to the 1950s, most Church of England Sunday attendance was at matins, not at Holy Communion. The figures for Easter Day communicants at St. Pauls’ in 1800 was 6. In our own time, receiving the Sacrament weekly is not part of the worship tradition for many.
Continuing this thought experiment—because what I’m trying to figure out is what is the one thing we need in order to be the church—what would happen if we were no longer allowed to congregate in numbers, say, greater than two? Would we still be the church? I think we would. In fact, as Jesus teaches us, ‘where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am’ (Matt 18:20). So we don’t have to have large assemblies to be the church. Two at a time is enough.
With that in mind, however, what if we weren’t allowed to meet up with other Christians, would we still be the church? Yes, I think we would be, though doubtless it would be very hard. We would still have our Bibles and we would be able to draw sustenance from the metaphors St Paul uses for the church in his letters, especially the ones that liken it to a body (see Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 10 & 12, Ephesians 4 & 5, Colossians 1). We might not be permitted to meet up with each other, but we would know and draw comfort from the fact that there were other Christians out there in the world who were able to gather together and worship God. This, of course, is the very the situation that many persecuted Christians face today.
If we were unable to receive the Sacrament of Bread and Wine, would we still be the church? Though obviously not the ideal situation—and one which we would not wish to see continue for a moment longer than necessary—nevertheless, I think that we would be able to continue to be the church. It would be doubtless hard, deprived of one of our key, God given sources of spiritual sustenance, but it would be possible. Again, we would be able to draw comfort from the fact that there were other Christians around the world able to freely receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus. That way we would be reassured that the church as a whole was receiving the necessary spiritual sustenance of Our Lord, even if that was not the case for us as the church more locally.
What if our Bibles were taken away? With all the books destroyed, all the smartphone apps deleted, and if we were unable to meet up, receive the Sacrament and read the Word, would we continue to be the church? Yes, I think we would. But this is where it would start becoming very hard, but not impossible.
If we had been well formed by the Christian tradition, meaning that over the years we had absorbed into our very marrow the history of God with us, revealed in the story of Israel and Jesus, we would be able, individually, to feed on these stories. They would continue to shape our understanding and knowledge of God. Thus, as the church, we would still be able to pursue the core activity God calls us to: prayer.
Though isolated, with no Bible, we would be able to pray to God our Father in the name of Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit. For a while, at least. But it would be extremely hard (and again, we do well to remember that sadly these are the circumstances that many of our brothers and sisters in Christ face today in various parts of the world when imprisoned for their faith).
The difficulty would come with the passage of time. As the weeks turn into months and months into years, depending on our memories, we would begin to forget some of the stories. Unable to be corrected by others and without the aid of the written Word, we would risk the danger of these stories and passages of Scripture being slowly reshaped and eventually worn away by the undertow of the broader culture.
How would such an isolated, deprived church of individuals be able to pass on the faith to the next generation? With openly meeting other Christians forbidden, the very thought of evangelising would be out of the question, or at least highly costly, even within one’s own family. Would the church then die? No, again the conclusion I draw is that it would not. The reason for my optimism is that visions of the risen Lord Jesus continue to this day around the world, often to people who have no prior knowledge or experience of Him. It’s obviously not an everyday experience, but it does happen. The cost borne around the world by those who then choose to bear witness to having had such experiences only serves to heighten their credibility.
In other words, when everything has been stripped away, all the church needs for the church to be the church is Christ.
That said, for us to know who God is—the One who knows us more deeply than we know ourselves— is obviously greatly helped by knowing the history of God being with us. And so we have our Bibles, which tell this story, which we have the privilege of freely reading whenever we choose in our own native languages.
Sustained by the Word of God, we have the privilege of receiving the Bread and the Wine, the Body and the Blood of Our Lord. Not just on Sundays. Every day of the year, if we so choose.
Receiving such gifts, coming to know ever more deeply the love of God for us, we have the privilege of gathering in homes, ordinary buildings or dedicated churches, some many centuries old, to worship almighty God together.
As we express our unfettered delight and love for God together, we have the privilege of doing so in all sorts of ways. Returning full circle, for many of us this is primarily through music of all types. This includes, at the Priory, music led by robed choirs, undergirded by the expansive, immersive sound of a most majestic twenty year old pipe organ!
For all this, we are rightly grateful. But if it were all to be taken away, we would still be the church. That that is not currently our situation, we give thanks, holding in prayer those for whom it is.
Though persecuted, isolated, and deprived of the many ways of worshipping that we have the privilege to enjoy, nonetheless our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ are joined with us and we with them. We are the church together.
The next time we hear the Priory pipe organ sound forth, let us listen for them.
Two charities which offer help to the persecuted church are opendoorsuk.org and barnabusfund.org. You can read about the work of The Royal School of Church Music, now under the leadership of our former Director of Music, Hugh Morris, at rscm.org.uk.