Not waving but drowning .... a church lost at sea.

Ever since Matthew Arnold posted his poem Dover Beach on the Facebook of his day:

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

The question of whether the Church can survive has been asked and asked by believers and non-believers alike.

That sound, the long, withdrawing roar, has been the soundtrack to my ministry over the long years since my ordination in 1969.

So many questions from friends and family and earnest and well meaning by-standers, Do you really believe all this stuff?

Now in retirement I sense that what I could see from the pulpit in 1969 to what I see now on the few occasions when I am asked to cover for a local incumbent taking a much needed break, is exactly the 'long withdrawing roar' described by Arnold.

A conversation in the street with a local clergy friend as he described the structures as 'crumbling' and complained that the senior staff don't have a clue.

Another conversation with another priest friend who asked when did the language change, when did we cease being pastors and become 'leaders'?

Leaders of what? Mission Communities apparently .....

My own observation suggests that the clergy no longer have the energy to elect a Rural Dean and so in our Deanery the Archdeacon has become the Rural Dean.

And every conversation carries the refrain 'Retirement', either I can't wait to retire, I envy that  you are retired, or the sooner I can retire, the sooner I can become a real priest again?

The Bishop Of London delivered the 2015 Lambeth Lecture, reading the text of the lecture, despite all the positive references to growth and change and ecumenism and finding new uses for old churches and how the least amongst us become bishops and the true saints are to be found in the parishes and how London leads the way in growth and seeks to serve the wider church (all laudable if questionable claims and ambitions) I found myself again and again hearing the melancholy, long, withdrawing roar.

Yesterday I had occasion to telephone Church House.

Searching the internet it took twenty five minutes to find the telephone number.

The receptionist was delightful, charming, concerned and keen to help but she could neither answer my question or indeed find anyone else to take my call.

Apparently they were all in a meeting.

Then as she was talking she said: Oh the meeting has ended let me see if I can put you through.

No apparently no-one could speak to me as they were all heading home.

Someone would call me in the morning, but nobody did.

Apparently she told me there are real problems now as everywhere costs are being reduced due to budget constraints.

Each time she put me on hold the canned sounds of Graham Kendrick's greatest hits forced me to hold the 'phone away from my ear.

Truly, Truly, Truly ....

The melancholy, long, withdrawing whimper of faith.