Churches deserve a second coming

Despite having gone to a Church of England In elementary school where my teacher added the word “sky” to a scientific diagram of the Earth’s atmosphere, I didn’t grow up in a particularly religious household. Which means that, overall, I feel very little qualms about doing secular things inside religious buildings.

And yet, earlier this month I had the opportunity to interview The Midnight Library author Matt Haigas she sat in a nearly 1,000-year-old church, wearing a golden robe. And as I sat before a dazzling frieze of various saints, it seemed both virtuous and sordid to discuss madness, Ibiza, seagrass and suicide in a Saxon house of worship. At one point I said the word “shit” and half expected the all-powerful hand of an invisible deity to come down and crush me like an ant.

However, there is a healthy precedent that churches are used for purposes other than religious services. According to the Diocese of Exeter website (a website I rarely visit): “In the Middle Ages, churches were used for a variety of functions such as courtroom, school and library, and hosted meetings, elections, debates, plays and events. festivities. »

Imagine being in court for stealing a turnip from under a crying, bleeding statue of Christ. Regardless, it seems that it wasn’t until the 1800s that churches began to be used solely for religious ceremonies, and once again things changed.

The wonderfully named St Cuthbert, Copnor in Portsmouth is a church which also includes a doctor’s surgery; in 2009, St Giles Church, Langford, opened its own village store known – I love it – as ‘Heavenly Supplies’; while many churches, especially in rural areas, are used as post offices and citizen advice centers.

Personally, I’ve gone raving in St Matthew’s Church in Brixton, wiped children’s bottoms in St Alban’s Church in Oxford, watched comedies at Union Chapel in Islington, attended electronic music concerts at St John in Hackney and narrowly avoided being groped at a funk party. in a converted church in Leeds. I drank my wedding cocktails in an ancient church dedicated to Saint Paul and I voted in more religious polling stations than electoral victories.

In each case, the vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, and tiles beneath my feet gave the experience a certain thrill, halfway between glamor and gravitas. To paraphrase the old Christmas hit, it’s both naughty and enjoyable to watch a little kid bounce down the aisle on an inflatable unicorn, drink from a flask, or dance to Curtis Mayfield in a place that, at least on Sunday , lift up our hearts to the Lord.

In Matt Haig’s case, we were there to discuss his new book An impossible life; the story of a retired mathematics professor who experiences near-universal consciousness after an interaction with Ibiza herbaria and subsequently becomes delusional. In some ways it seemed consistent with what I understand about Christianity to use this literary launching pad to discuss death, magic, madness, and nature. After all, the Bible is full of these four terms.

These types of events, along with food banks, children’s centers, galleries and cafes, are also undoubtedly a good way to bring people who do not identify with Christianity through the threshold of their buildings. This makes us, I suppose, more comfortable in their environment and therefore, in the view of the Church, more likely to be open to their teachings.

I remember after a long cycle ride through Epping Forest I stopped at a church on the way home where I bought a cup of tea and a flapjack in their cafe. I’m not saying it was enough to convert me, but I certainly felt a warm thrill of gratitude toward the institution.

At this time of year, there is a lot of talk about what Jesus would have wanted. Would the son of God have approved of tinsel, Santa Claus, mulled wine, Christmas number ones, spraying snow, public holidays, Christmas cards, sexy elf costumes and theft? We will simply never know.

All I can say is that this year I managed to speak to an audience of a few hundred people for at least four minutes about stockings in a church, and I have yet to be hit . Fingers crossed.