This Foundation seeks to understand the signs of the times and to look forwards by encouraging faith in the public square. It might seem paradoxical, therefore, to look backwards through anniversaries for wisdom to apply. Yet it would be arrogant for this generation to lose sight of the challenges which faced our predecessors, the risks they took and the opportunities which they seized. By reminding ourselves constantly of conditions and attitudes long ago, we can become less judgmental of the past and more creative in addressing the present and the future.
Listening to reviews of 2025, commentators inside and outside faith communities are wondering why people are so disaffected with politics, religion, the media, universities and other institutions. The William Temple Foundation has been looking throughout the year at the Church of England’s 1985 Report on ‘Faith in the City’ and we have also studied the Church’s 1945 Report, ‘Towards the Conversion of England’, in each case seeking to enhance understanding and to learn lessons for our times.
In addition to those 40th and 80th anniversaries, William Temple’s maiden speech in the House of Lords as Bishop of Manchester one hundred years ago could have been answering the question of 2025, ‘Why are people so disaffected?’ Temple’s analysis was that,
‘I think there is quite sufficient evidence to show that where you get really bitter disaffection towards the institutions of the country it is nearly always in districts where bad housing prevails. There are other causes of industrial unrest in abundance, but there is nothing which makes the settlement of industrial disputes so difficult as the embittered atmosphere due to housing conditions, which any of us with an ounce of imagination must see at once are of a kind to produce the most profound irritation and nervous fretfulness. There can be little hope of real political and social well-being becoming established in the country until we have genuinely solved this housing problem.’
The connection with industrial unrest was timely. A few months later, Temple played a significant part in finding ways forward during the 1926 General Strike. He pursued the housing question over the years and our Director of Research, Professor Chris Baker, drew attention on a panel at St Paul’s Cathedral this autumn, in partnership with the Church Urban Fund, to Temple’s views on housing in his 1942 book, Christianity and Social Order.
One of the reasons for this Foundation following William Temple’s arc across the North 100 years ago when he was Bishop of Manchester and 90 years ago when he was Archbishop of York, is that he was only the Archbishop of Canterbury from 1942 to his untimely death in 1944. While he was one of the most distinguished holders of that office in history, and served at a pivotal time, he gave much in his previous episcopal roles in the North and he also learned much.
Each of those decades was bleak in terms of politics, economics and world affairs. Yet Temple was always uplifting in far more difficult times than we are experiencing, most obviously as the middle one of the three Archbishops of Canterbury during the Second World War.
William Temple’s broadcasting stands out as a model of faith in the public square. The texts of his Christmas broadcasts can be re-read for signs of hope today, alongside the Christmas messages of our Monarchs and the Urbi et Orbi messages of successive Popes. At the end of the year in which he became Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1942, he broadcast Christmas messages first to Canada and then to all English-speaking people across the world, then broadcast a message on the last Sunday of the year reflecting on the passage from the old year to the new one. All three transcripts can be found in The Church Looks Forward, published by Macmillan in 1944, together with his broadcast in September 1942 on the National Day of Prayer called by King George VI. There was some controversy over whether it was right to pray for victory. William Temple’s way through that, also summed up his Christmas messages: ‘I suggest as a brief prayer for our country, which is also an act of dedication, “O God, make us worthy of victory”.’
Amen to that. It applies to whatever evils you think we are facing, not only the horrors of Nazism which faced Temple and the world in 1942. A country which did not create the promised ‘homes fit for heroes’ after the First World War had been called to account by Temple in 1925 and similarly he was calling for the country to be much more conscious of social justice in life after this Second World War was won. The battle in both Wars was, as Temple put it in the inter-War years, between those who believed in a Power-State and those who believed in a Welfare-State. Temple explained that it was fundamental to human flourishing that people should be able to make a contribution to the common good, to the well-being of society, to the welfare of the state.
The Ghost of Christmas Present. Illustration by John Leech, 1843.
Going back a further one hundred years before World War Two, in December 1843, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol had Scrooge being shown by the Spirit of Christmas Present two children with Want and Ignorance on their foreheads. In his 1942 Report, Temple’s friend William Beveridge ventured that there were five Giant Evils, those two of Want and Ignorance, plus Disease, Squalor and Idleness. Decent housing, health and education are fundamental to victory over each of these evils. ‘Scrooge’ has become in common parlance a term used for those who do not understand the Christmas spirit but Dickens’ Scrooge was transformed by the revelation of Christmas Present. Reminded of his previous attempts to deflect responsibility towards prisons and workhouses, Scrooge became the epitome of a bountiful philanthropist. William Temple’s whole character was the embodiment of that spirit of generosity and redemption which Dickens had captured one hundred years before Temple’s Christmas messages as Archbishop of Canterbury. In that spirit, we could vary William Temple’s prayer as we contemplate how a year of disaffection might give way to a year of hope: O God, make us worthy of Christmas Present.
Simon Lee is Chair of the Trustees of the William Temple Foundation.
This blog is written the day after the Foundation published a Temple book entitled ‘Towards the Conversion of the Church of England by the rest of England’, and of course just a few days after the announcement that Bishop Sarah Mullally would become the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury marked a watershed moment—the first woman to hold this position in its 1,400-year history.
Bishop Sarah, 63, brings an unconventional background to Lambeth Palace, having served as England’s Chief Nursing Officer at age 37 before her ordination in 2001. When named Bishop of London in 2017, she spoke of having “always had one vocation: to follow Jesus Christ, to know him and to make him known, always seeking to live with compassion in the service of others”.
In these early days following her appointment, we share the findings of our book in the hope that it may offer some new and creative thinking as she contemplates this life-long vocation.
The premise of the book is the 80th anniversary of Towards the Conversion of England published in 1945. Back in 1943, at the request of the Church Assembly, Archbishop William Temple set up a commission under the Bishop of Rochester to “survey the whole problem of modern evangelism.” We wanted to set up a roundtable discussion from eleven key witnesses representing a variety of perspectives and walks of English life, meeting at the Royal Foundation of St Katharine in Limehouse earlier this summer. These included Simon Lee, Tariq Modood, Abigail King, Lawrence Goldman, Sarah Joseph, Al Barrett, Val Barron, Andrew Brown, Peter Robinson, and myself.
The aim was not to provide an historical review of the original report but to take the premise of its title and turn it on its head. Instead of the Church playing a pivotal role in spiritual revival of the postwar English nation, the premise of this roundtable is that the renewal of the Church of England relies on it listening to and engaging with the new forces that are shaping England. It is a reverse idea of mission that has an acute theological, historical and cultural relevance for these times.
The consensus from our contributors suggests that Bishop Sarah Mullally inherits a Church of England at a defining inflection point. Our conversations identified a stark reality: a profound disconnection between the established Church and the English nation, driven by multiple reinforcing crises of identity, trust, and vision. Here are some of our key findings.
Diagnosing the Loss of Identity
The problematic confronting Mullally operates across several interlocking dimensions. Historically, the disappearance of Imperial Britain has left the Church institutionally ‘orphaned’ without a clear organizing purpose—the seventy-year arc from Suez (1956) to Brexit (2016) represents not merely political decline but the erosion of the framework within which Anglican identity made sense. Culturally and sociologically, this dislocation manifests in the sharp decline of rural infrastructure—the regular loss of pubs, schools, banks, and shops creates a dangerous vacuum where both Church and State are perceived as having abandoned ordinary citizens.
The 2021 Census data reveals the scale of transformation: Christian affiliation has dropped from 72% in 2001 to 46%, whilst those identifying as having no religion have risen from 15% to 37%. Yet this trajectory toward a post-Christian society masks a more complex reality—England remains dynamically religious, with minority faith groups thriving. The paradox is striking: whilst sociological narratives emphasize secularization, government interest in faith as an indispensable partner for policy delivery has never been stronger.
Younger generations exemplify this paradoxical moment. Gen Z prizes authenticity, fluidity, transparency, and collaboration, yet their pursuit of these values occurs within a world that feels fragile and precarious, shot through with existential anxiety. Spiritual hunger roams through what one might call the crumbling ruins of institutional Christianity. Many young Christians report looking with envy at the depth of commitment their Muslim friends show toward religious identity.
Bureaucratically, the Church suffers from adherence to top-down centralized governance models that appear out of touch. Power is misaligned—those thinking they possess it often lack it, whilst actual power lies with Church Commissioners, wealthy parishes, and externally funded networks veering toward socially conservative agendas.
The Theological Crisis
Perhaps most surprisingly, it is the theological dimension reveals the clearest manifestation of identity loss. In a relentless quest for cultural relevance that might refill churches, the Church has lost sight of Memory and Tradition’s value. Anglicanism in the opinion of some or our roundtable members has ‘deliberately overlooked its past,’ missing opportunities to connect congregants to rich theological heritage that could provide meaning and continuity.
On the other hand, some of our number felt that the Church has lost its prophetic tradition and roots, with institutional self-preservation prevailing over prophetic risk-taking. This has allowed Christian message and identity to be increasingly co-opted by the Far-Right with disastrous consequences. The Protestant emphasis on personal belief contrasts sharply with minority religions expressing faith through shared practices. Christianity has evolved toward belief and good works whilst abandoning distinctive practices—yet other religions maintain practice-based identity even when belief may be uncertain.
Five Pathways to Reconnection
Against this diagnosis, five trajectories emerge from our findings toward rediscovering an Anglican identity that might be able to reconnecting with the English nation:
First, dig deep into theological and prophetic traditions. In an era of dangerous populism where the English flag is increasingly yoked to Far-Right agendas, the Church needs to reconnect itself to long-term memory (anamnesis) of roots and traditions. For Gen Z navigating paths toward grounded authentic life, the Church has opportunity to offer a more satisfying spiritual menu—something demanding, deep, and countercultural. The Church must outline confident, authentic approaches to Christian faith and English Christian traditions in ways that counter religious illiteracy about not only Anglicanism but religion and faith generally.
Second, act local as an expression of resilience and solidarity. In contexts where trust in national infrastructure has broken down, the local becomes the locus of organization and relationality. The Church’s value lies in its unique ability to connect across social strata. The model of broad-based community organizing brought to the table by some of our witnesses creates ‘relational power’ offering genuine alternatives to both elite indifference and far-right mobilization. The idea of ‘the parish’ needs reimagining beyond its bureaucratic status into something more akin to a terroir—representing a combination of physical attributes, local customs, artisanal skills, and traditions that give unique flavour to a place.
Third, hold the space for dialogue about what it means to be English. The Church needs to rediscover its confidence as a national institution by convening public debates about what it means to be an English people in times of great transition. Its greatest historical strength has resided in holding together a wide variety of disparate theological views in loose coalition. Within radically polarizing social discourses, the ability to stand back, listen, take a via media, and be a container for widely divergent views takes on an urgent political and cultural significance.
Fourth, give away power to gain greater influence. The future credibility of the Church lies in giving away resources—buildings, finance, people—to meet community needs rather than gathering people into Church structures. The call from our report is for a massive injection of resources and moral vision into creating a new national network of ‘community owned and created children’s centres and hubs’ with priority given to those areas with the highest rates of child poverty increase. Such moves would restore trust and credibility where reputation has been damaged by the inability to deal effectively with child and adult sexual abuse.
Fifth, create new coalitions across faith and secular partners. The Church’s public leadership role needs to reflect the decisive shift in how policy now regards faith. Faith communities are now seen as indispensable partners for government resilience planning and healthcare (as examples). The Church still has enough skin in the game to become a key generator of relationships across difference, facilitating and strengthening these relationships as a contribution to weaving more cohesive communities.
Paradoxes Confronting the New Archbishop
Our report concludes that Bishop Sarah faces several paradoxes that may frame her mission priorities. Loss of identity within the English nation is yet in a context of pockets of spiritual and religious revival, and a renewed search for meaning, especially amongst younger generations. Whilst there appears apathy towards some expressions of institutional Christianity, interest in faith from government has rarely been so marked. Trust in centralized authority is debased, yet the search for local solidarities across difference is vibrant and innovative.
The glass, perhaps, is more than half-full. The future, though fraught and appearing fragile, is also one of opportunity for forging new connections and discovering new forms of public leadership. In doing so, the Church might rediscover its own rootedness and identity as it leads others in the same search—benefitting the Church whilst helping ensure stability and space for many more expressions of English identity to emerge, creating as they do a culture of hope, pride, and innovation.
By Chris Baker, Director of Research at the William Temple Foundation.
Read ‘Towards the Conversion of the Church of England by the Rest of England’ Temple Book here.
Sign up for our online book launch, featuring Linda Woodhead and John Denham, here. 7-8.15pm 28 October 2025.
It is with great pleasure that the William Temple Foundation announces the appointment of Victoria Paynter as its new Communications Officer.
Victoria will be joining the team in a freelance capacity and will strive to amplify the great work of the Foundation. In her role, she will strengthen the Foundation’s public profile across a variety of platforms and promote the valuable contributions of its fellows and partners.
A recent Politics graduate of the University of Edinburgh, Victoria brings her experience in communications through her voluntary work with the Centre for the Study of Bible and Violence and Just Love Edinburgh. She has a strong interest in the socio-political role of the Church and the valuable contributions of faith communities to the public square. With good synchronicity to her new role with the Foundation, Victoria will also shortly commence work for a Christian peer in the House of Lords as a graduate on the CARE Leadership Programme.
Speaking about her appointment, Victoria says, ‘The William Temple Foundation has a rich history of developing and promoting faith contributions to public life. I am delighted to have the opportunity to build on that legacy by helping to platform the Foundation’s scholarship and insights, and foster greater dialogue between its audience and contributors.’
Professor Chris Baker, Director of Research for the Foundation responds, ‘We are thrilled that Victoria is joining the Foundation in this important role. She will bring a lot of fresh thinking and approach as to how the Foundation continues to position itself in a rapidly changing political and belief landscape and communicates its core message – especially to the leaders and opinion formers of the future.’
The leaders of Britain, politicians, intellectuals and churches, invariably focus on what’s gone wrong with life, whether it’s the economy, the NHS, education, inequality or foodbanks. Yet that’s to start with the carts of life. There are some useful lessons we might draw from economics, offering a message on Lent and sin. Without the horse, the cart is pretty useless, so let’s rather begin with the horse. And, by that, I mean I’m grateful that I’m neither dead nor am I dirt poor. And that’s astonishing progress, because only 100 years ago my uncle John Robert Atherton (after whom I was probably named), was born and died in 1900, one of the 20% who tragically died in childhood of incurable infectious diseases. The remainder often suffered from great undernourishment, and from lack of education. In contrast, I’m 76, highly educated, have a modest pension, and therefore the freedom to be and to do. And these great and historic achievements have beneficially affected more and more people increasingly across the whole world in terms of incomes, life expectancy and education.
Of course, these are not as yet a universal achievement. A very significant but diminishing minority do not share in the benefits obtained by the Industrial and then the Mortality Revolutions. A billion still live in absolute poverty, and, in rich economies like Britain and the USA, a significant minority still suffer from relative deprivation. These deeply disturbing situations reflect what is called the paradox of development; the great achievements in wellbeing in the last 200 years have also been accompanied by deeply negative forces, including grave inequalities (throughout history, and including today, these paradoxes of development, or ‘horsemen of the apocalypse’, traditionally included famines, epidemic, climate changes, migrations and state failures).
So this analysis is therefore about putting the horse back where it belongs: before the cart. Don’t begin, as our leaders in academia, politics and churches do, with the downsides of life, with the paradoxes of development. No. Begin with the ongoing historic achievements in income, health and education in only the last 200 years. Then, and only then, also address the paradoxes of development.
What on earth has Lent and sin got to do with this? Well, for most of its history Christianity has regularly put the cart before the horse, and especially in the season of Lent, and especially with its focus on sin. And that’s again putting things the wrong way round. Let’s think a bit more about this.
So much of the church’s historic views on sin are pathological, and are now also profoundly inaccurate and unhelpful. Let me give you a few examples:
In medieval churches, the walls were often covered with paintings regularly featuring vivid pictures of hell as the punishment for sin if the parishioners didn’t confess to a priest. The fear this inevitably injected was also a powerful way of controlling the population.
If a newborn baby died before it was baptised, it was, until relatively recently, buried in unconsecrated ground outside the consecrated church yard – because its original sin, addressed only through baptism, therefore ostracised it beyond the pale.
When I was a young Rector of Hulme Church in inner city Manchester in the late 1960s, I was frequently asked to ‘church’ a young mother who had just given birth to a child. Now, this old ‘churching’ service wasn’t a ‘thanksgiving for childbirth’ as it later became. It was a (grandmothers won’t let the daughter out till she’d been churched), going back to the Christian doctrine that original sin was transmitted to new generations through the sexual act, through the woman’s birth of a child.
Why on earth did Christianity and the churches have such views often well into the twentieth century? My ongoing research in economics and religious studies indicates that for all human history, until the 19th century, the vast majority of people lived lives, as the great 17th century political philosopher Thomas Hobbes put it, which were ‘poor, nasty, brutish and short’. They died at best by middle age, they lived in poverty and squalor, and they often suffered violent deaths. Reflecting and deepening such experiences, no wonder such views of sin, of the self-inflicted darkness of life, so pervaded Christian thinking and preaching. But now life is quite different. For most people life is long, peaceful and relatively prosperous, with increasing healthcare and educational opportunities for a growing majority.
So I now begin with the lovely and accurate Anglican collect or prayer for Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent: ‘Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing that you have made…’ That’s where I begin, with the fundamental goodness of the created order. Then, and only then, do I address what’s also gone wrong in terms of sin and finitude (don’t confuse them, and do recognise both as severe, distinct and different constraints on our social development – including as the paradoxes of development). And that’s certainly not to therefore acknowledge my ‘wretchedness’, as the collect for Ash Wednesday goes on to declare! Whatever I now feel and understand as my sin and finitude, I would thankfully, not normally refer to it as wretchedness.
How then, to define sin today, post-1800? Well, I go to the New Testament’s interpretation of it as ‘missing the mark’. In other words, we aim for, in Paul’s words, ‘what is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable’ (Philippians 4.8). And then, and only then, do we recognise and face up to where we get it wrong personally and collectively (the latter including what we call structural sin in terms of defective or bad institutions, markets or nations). Now this is called ‘putting the horse before the cart in Christianity, church life and history’. It’s about Christian beliefs, urgently updated in the life of the most historic changes in human life, continuing to give greater depth and greater meaning to our ordinary human experiences.
William Temple helped to found the modern welfare state, but what would he make of it today? If we re-examine his seminal Christianity and Social Order in the light of the development of the modern welfare state, it seems clear that Temple would be deeply disturbed and disappointed. Not disappointed with the idea of the welfare state, but disappointed with what we’ve done to that idea.
Temple took his readers back to the very heart of the Christian tradition, and explored the kind of society that Christians should help build. His vision for the welfare state is a Christian vision, but it is also a vision that welcomes others; he claims no special place for the Church or for Christians. Instead, at its heart is love – love in the form of justice. Temple recognised that justice gives us rights and duties, but that we must also work to fulfil them in a spirit of equal citizenship. Our deeper purpose must be to ensure that we each have the freedom to develop to our full potential and this means creating communities with the necessary securities and opportunities to enable that development.
But, while Temple’s vision certainly helped inspire the creation of the welfare state, it is often difficult to see the relationship between that vision and the reality of today’s system. The early achievements of the welfare state are too often taken for granted, and we have moved into an era of ‘welfare reform’ when the word ‘reform’ has become code for ‘attack’. Politicians, journalists and the general public now accept without question a whole series of falsehoods or distortions:
“Welfare spending is unsustainable”
“Too many people are on benefits”
“Welfare fraud is a major problem”
“Public services need to be more efficient”
The welfare state has become an object of scorn and there are few prepared to provide it with a robust defence. How has this happened? How has such an important achievement become so problematic?
One culprit may be the resurgence of liberalism: the philosophy of individualism, consumerism and the growing power of business or ‘the market’. Yet, while there is some truth in this, there is a danger that blaming liberalism is too simplistic. If we are not careful we simply rehearse the hollow debates, from both the left-wing and right-wing, which have left us in this situation. We need to think more deeply about the kind of welfare state which is needed.
This is a problem that goes right back to the birth of the welfare state. For, while Temple’s vision certainly inspired its formation, the welfare state was rarely informed by that vision. The systems that were put in place in the 1940s, and in the following years were well intentioned, but they were also deeply paternalistic, meritocratic and bureaucratic. The design of the welfare state was somewhat blind to citizenship, to rights, to the value of diversity in our communities or to the full potential of every human being.
Keynesian economics helped to assure people work; but this was work as defined by the state and big business. The benefits system provided people with a minimum income, but it stigmatised those who needed it. The value of out-of-work benefits is now so low that the UK has become the third most unequal developed country in the world. Even those institutions, like schools and the NHS, which were designed to promote equality, are organised to put Whitehall in power. The UK has the world’s most centralised welfare state. One symptom of this extreme centralisation is the constant reorganisation of public services, each according to the latest political fad, yet each without any demonstrable benefits.
At a deeper level many of these problems may be constitutional. Today, as the country wrestles with ‘austerity’ we find that cuts in spending are actually targeted at the poor and disabled people. For instance, there are now 25% fewer people receiving social care (support for disabled and older people) than there were five years ago. Mortgage rates (which affect the wealthiest) have been slashed, but the poor are forced to rely on the likes of Wonga. The most likely explanation for this is not the wickedness of politicians, but the fact that the votes of the poor are much less important than the votes of those on middle incomes. The political rhetoric of the ‘squeezed middle’ is an inversion of the truth – politicians pander to the middle, because this is where elections are won or lost. We live in a “medianocracy” – a land where the median earner is king.
We are in grave danger of seeing much of what Temple and the Church worked to achieve being undermined and lost. There is very little sign that modern politicians or voters understand the need for equal citizenship; instead it is increasingly acceptable to buy your way to the front of the queue. We have forgotten that human beings are wonderfully diverse, and that all of us have a God-given potential to develop; instead we meekly accept the Government’s presumption that it can dictate the purpose and methodology of our children’s education. Instead of building welcoming and diverse communities together, we have subsidised the development of institutional services, like residential care.
But this is why there has never been a better time for the Church to act. When party political structures have evolved so that they can no longer protect minorities or the vulnerable, then the Church must speak out. When thinking is dominated by out-of-date and bankrupt concepts, then the Church must speak afresh the language of love and truth. When communities have lost heart and have begun to accept the fate handed down to them by the powerful, then the Church must help people to find renewed strength.
If William Temple came back today to examine the welfare state I am sure he would challenge the Church to remind people why we need the welfare state, and he would encourage us once again to imagine what kind of welfare state would really be true to the Christian vision of love, truth and justice.
A Victorian Gothic barn of a church, with most of the pews still anchored in place, on a cold wet Saturday afternoon in February. The parish in a multicultural inner city in the North of England has struggled to survive, but remains committed to evangelical mission and community engagement. Twice a term now we put on a Messy Church session, advertised mainly through the majority Asian Church primary school that stands next door. The vicar’s wife, a retired teacher does most of the work of planning and preparation. The vicar himself does most of the platform presentation, and the team of a dozen or so volunteer helpers are predominantly aged over 60, white and English.
From 3pm the church fills with parents and children, mostly families who attend the school, and maybe two or three who regularly come to worship on Sunday mornings. It’s mostly women and children, though there are a handful of dads. There is a group of white working-class mums, some of them lone parents, who obviously know each other and spend a lot of time chatting and letting the kids get on with the activities. But as the number of people in the building rises to 90 we realise this is the most popular Messy Church since we started 18 months ago – and that over half of those attending are Muslims. One of the women is dressed in a black abaya, worn with a niqab – though she does remove the face covering when she has become comfortable with the social setting inside the church. Several other women and girls are wearing hijab (headscarf) and are in modest Asian dress.
One of the Muslim women who had encouraged friends to come is a single parent who first came along to a Messy Church a few months ago. We got to know her better through the midweek job club in the church hall. She had been unemployed, and destitute because she had been sanctioned for some trivial breach of benefit conditions by the job centre. We had helped her with food parcels, friendship and eventually to find a job in child care, and though she does not say she is a follower of Jesus or attend Sunday worship, she clearly feels herself to be part of the church family.
As usual Messy Church is a mixture of games, child-friendly Jesus songs, craft activities, a story and eating together. The vicar tells the story of Joseph, bringing out the importance of family and forgiveness. The crafts features coats of many colours, camels and silver cups. People are invited to write their prayers for forgiveness on coloured paper cut in the shape and size of their hands and to stick these to a board at the front of the church. We then share in food which church people have brought along – sandwiches, cakes, biscuits and some fruit (up North this is known as a Jacob’s join). Probably we should have thought more clearly about making sure there were halal options, but vegetarian items mean everyone found something they were happy to eat. By five o’ clock the helpers were anxious to start clearing up but several people just wanted to stop and chat, so it took a long time before we could all go home, tired but encouraged.
How do we reflect on what was happening here? The situation has all the characteristics of what William Temple Foundation’s Chris Baker and John Reader have labelled a “blurred encounter”. There were a wide range of expectations and motives in the room. Christians were there with the hope of sharing the gospel. Children from a variety of backgrounds were just happy to be together and to have fun. Parents of various faith backgrounds and none were pleased to have something for the family to do on a cold February afternoon, that didn’t cost anything, and had some free food thrown in.
Sociologically speaking it seems that the parish church, though its close involvement with the school next door, is able to offer a safe social space for the banal everyday encounters on which social cohesion can be built. The school and the relaxed informality of Messy Church, linked with other community involvements such as the job club offer a milieu for building bridging social capital, crossing boundaries of communities which some commentators suggest are trapped in parallel lives. Religion is not in itself a barrier, but rather seems to offer common ground where trust can be built. It is significant too that Messy Church is an environment where women and children go first – perhaps typical male approaches to faith would be more dogmatic and divisive. There can be everyday good neighbourliness, friendship and trust across faith communities at this level. However it is also the case that in the local community there are examples of barriers and racisms directed against Muslims, while we also know of painful and hostile experiences when someone from a Muslim background “comes out” publicly as a follower of Jesus Christ.
Theologically one can also ask what is going on in this situation and how is God at work? A classic evangelical answer would be that to some degree at least, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is being preached, if only implicitly, or at least proclaimed by deeds and attitudes. A more liberal approach would be to stress that the values of acceptance, friendship, trust, love and forgiveness are signs of the Kingdom of God, and of the Holy Spirit at work. Whether or not anyone discerns or names the name of Christ in this situation, God alone knows what is happening in people’s hearts, and He alone is the final judge of us all.
It might be worthwhile to reflect on NT Wright’s recent perspectives on Pauline theologywhere the emphasis is placed not so much on individual justification before God as on incorporation into the multicultural community of those who are “in the Messiah”. However, this raises many questions about how in such blurred encounters and ambiguous social and religious spaces, people may or may not find “salvation” — amidst all the competing definitions of that term one may come across in our theologically diverse environment.
