Every month or so, an e-newsletter titled 'Spirit Level' pops into my Inbox. It's complied by a lady called Janet who represents the Churches Regional Council (CRC), a body originally set up by the Yorkshire and Humberside Regional Development Agency. The dozen or so former RDAs have been phased out as such, but CRC marches on. Spirit Level is a fascinating digest of church activities. I've attended several events and downloaded some excellent material from its content and links.
The October one caught my eye: A day conference for mission practitioners, church leaders, theologians and missiologists to reflect together; What is distinctive about the North of England? What might be a proper and fruitful relationship between the North and South for the mission of God in England? Is there a Northern gospel? The date was free, the price modest, and it was at Bishopthorpe Palace, York, a quick hour's train journey away, so I booked.
There must have been worst places to be on the day. The morning sun was clear and bright, and the mature trees in the Palace grounds flushed with autumn colours. Along the gravel approach, through the arch, up the terrace steps, and enter by the front doors (not the generally used Reception) to collect my badge. It's the paintings, or should I say portraits, that set the tone: all clerics one imagines of high status - in varying poses and vintages of dress. We were ushered into the State Hall. I counted fourteen portraits high around the walls, then amazing mouldings reaching the ceiling. Through the large sash windows, the Ouse flowed wide, fast and dark brown along the rear garden terrace. Most of the delegates were in clerical dress of contemporary mode. "I feel like a lion in a den of Daniels," I observed to Gavin, our facilitator for the day.
The housekeeping announcements introduced us to a beautiful brass bell suspended in a wooden frame to be rung as a fire alarm. Malcolm, the Archbishop's Chief of Staff, welcomed us and led the opening prayers. He apologised that the Archbish was unable to be here - away in Canada. Then we had our first morning plenary session: a set of compelling statistics presented by Kate Pickett, professor of epidemiology at York. (You can see the presentation, done by her colleague and co-author on http://www.ted.com/talks/richard_wilkinson.html). The studies include aspects of health, quality of life, social capital compared across 23 counties. Her basic conclusion was that inequality in incomes causes more harm than low incomes (per se). And the relevance to the North of England was that when things start to get bad, they get worse faster and more pronounced for poorer regions. Kate invited a Christian response of speaking out against destructive inequality.
Over coffee, I met several other folks from Sheffield, though the total catchment ran for Newcastle to Nottingham, and across both sides of the Pennines. Session two was the turn of Steven Cross, Bishop of Sheffield. He spoke of two strands of analysis at work in the diocesan churches: first, congregations know the gospel but need guidance on how to launch mission. Two: churchgoers aren't clear on the gospel, and that's where we need to start evangelism efforts. As for the North - he described the narrative as 'tragic, rather than romantic', and that may be some distinctive. Bishop Steven also provided a necessary balance to the earlier session, by reminding us that our salvation isn't economic, but from the Kingdom of Heaven.
Just before the lunch break, Gavin introduced how the afternoon whole session would run. The programme said 'open space technology' - we we intrigued. A bunch of upturned table tops were lined the front, ready for sticking up flipchart sheets. "Here's how it goes," Gavin explained (I later learnt these rules nare specially suitable for theological reflection - or TR). "First, we agree our topics - anything that's been stirred up this morning, or that we felt was missed. Second, we accept that in the gathering we have all the needed talent and experience to make real contributions. Third, the law of two feet - if we're not making progress in the present group, we move to another." He waved a marker pen, "So, who's got the first topic?" A lady vicar sprang to her feet and spoke about a recent announcement that Northern towns in the grip of economic decline should be left to die. "How do we bring hope and meaning in places like this?" "You can lead group 1 on that." Gavin scribbled on the flipchart, nodding. Having collected eight groups, we headed for lunch.
Two lovely sister in grey habits were gliding between adjacent admin offices. I asked them if they live in, and explained my community background. I bumped into two guys from the University of Carlisle, who similarly were engaged in a community experiment. Lunch was sausage casserole and mash, followed by apple crumble. And there were seconds. "I bet you wouldn't get that if we were meeting in Winchester," I commented to three Methodists at the long oak table. I skipped the stroll round the gardens that others had opted for, so I could familiarise myself with the format for the groups. Fresh from our own trustee training session, I wanted to focus on key points.
"I thought Hull had low church attendance because they'd never heard the gospel," the lady vicar related. "I took a funeral of a family man in his early 40s, and afterwards went to see his wife. 'Is there anything I can do to help...?' She replied, 'I've got rats in the garden and mice in the house; there's water running down the walls. My two boys are up in court tomorrow and my daughter was brought home - found in a alley. And I've had no money since the funeral. Where would you like to start?'" The tragic narrative. My group (held later) concluded that sincere worship, and sharing testimonies of experiences with God created an authentic spirituality. Gavin gathered up the flipcharted contributions, and hinted that another conference may follow. They need it: mission hasn't really penetrated average parish consciousness.
Back at York station, I had a coffee with Joe, my grisly friend who use to come to our Jesus Centre every week. "Had a holiday then, Joe?" "A day at Scarborough." "Well, York itself isn't such a bad place," I consoled. "I stay out of the way," he muttered. A month back I happened to be passing the Minster. 'Here,' this Yank calls over, 'Just to be clear - is this pre-war?' I glared, an' said, 'It's pre-America.' I just stay out of the way."
The October one caught my eye: A day conference for mission practitioners, church leaders, theologians and missiologists to reflect together; What is distinctive about the North of England? What might be a proper and fruitful relationship between the North and South for the mission of God in England? Is there a Northern gospel? The date was free, the price modest, and it was at Bishopthorpe Palace, York, a quick hour's train journey away, so I booked.
There must have been worst places to be on the day. The morning sun was clear and bright, and the mature trees in the Palace grounds flushed with autumn colours. Along the gravel approach, through the arch, up the terrace steps, and enter by the front doors (not the generally used Reception) to collect my badge. It's the paintings, or should I say portraits, that set the tone: all clerics one imagines of high status - in varying poses and vintages of dress. We were ushered into the State Hall. I counted fourteen portraits high around the walls, then amazing mouldings reaching the ceiling. Through the large sash windows, the Ouse flowed wide, fast and dark brown along the rear garden terrace. Most of the delegates were in clerical dress of contemporary mode. "I feel like a lion in a den of Daniels," I observed to Gavin, our facilitator for the day.
The housekeeping announcements introduced us to a beautiful brass bell suspended in a wooden frame to be rung as a fire alarm. Malcolm, the Archbishop's Chief of Staff, welcomed us and led the opening prayers. He apologised that the Archbish was unable to be here - away in Canada. Then we had our first morning plenary session: a set of compelling statistics presented by Kate Pickett, professor of epidemiology at York. (You can see the presentation, done by her colleague and co-author on http://www.ted.com/talks/richard_wilkinson.html). The studies include aspects of health, quality of life, social capital compared across 23 counties. Her basic conclusion was that inequality in incomes causes more harm than low incomes (per se). And the relevance to the North of England was that when things start to get bad, they get worse faster and more pronounced for poorer regions. Kate invited a Christian response of speaking out against destructive inequality.
Over coffee, I met several other folks from Sheffield, though the total catchment ran for Newcastle to Nottingham, and across both sides of the Pennines. Session two was the turn of Steven Cross, Bishop of Sheffield. He spoke of two strands of analysis at work in the diocesan churches: first, congregations know the gospel but need guidance on how to launch mission. Two: churchgoers aren't clear on the gospel, and that's where we need to start evangelism efforts. As for the North - he described the narrative as 'tragic, rather than romantic', and that may be some distinctive. Bishop Steven also provided a necessary balance to the earlier session, by reminding us that our salvation isn't economic, but from the Kingdom of Heaven.
Just before the lunch break, Gavin introduced how the afternoon whole session would run. The programme said 'open space technology' - we we intrigued. A bunch of upturned table tops were lined the front, ready for sticking up flipchart sheets. "Here's how it goes," Gavin explained (I later learnt these rules nare specially suitable for theological reflection - or TR). "First, we agree our topics - anything that's been stirred up this morning, or that we felt was missed. Second, we accept that in the gathering we have all the needed talent and experience to make real contributions. Third, the law of two feet - if we're not making progress in the present group, we move to another." He waved a marker pen, "So, who's got the first topic?" A lady vicar sprang to her feet and spoke about a recent announcement that Northern towns in the grip of economic decline should be left to die. "How do we bring hope and meaning in places like this?" "You can lead group 1 on that." Gavin scribbled on the flipchart, nodding. Having collected eight groups, we headed for lunch.
Two lovely sister in grey habits were gliding between adjacent admin offices. I asked them if they live in, and explained my community background. I bumped into two guys from the University of Carlisle, who similarly were engaged in a community experiment. Lunch was sausage casserole and mash, followed by apple crumble. And there were seconds. "I bet you wouldn't get that if we were meeting in Winchester," I commented to three Methodists at the long oak table. I skipped the stroll round the gardens that others had opted for, so I could familiarise myself with the format for the groups. Fresh from our own trustee training session, I wanted to focus on key points.
"I thought Hull had low church attendance because they'd never heard the gospel," the lady vicar related. "I took a funeral of a family man in his early 40s, and afterwards went to see his wife. 'Is there anything I can do to help...?' She replied, 'I've got rats in the garden and mice in the house; there's water running down the walls. My two boys are up in court tomorrow and my daughter was brought home - found in a alley. And I've had no money since the funeral. Where would you like to start?'" The tragic narrative. My group (held later) concluded that sincere worship, and sharing testimonies of experiences with God created an authentic spirituality. Gavin gathered up the flipcharted contributions, and hinted that another conference may follow. They need it: mission hasn't really penetrated average parish consciousness.
Back at York station, I had a coffee with Joe, my grisly friend who use to come to our Jesus Centre every week. "Had a holiday then, Joe?" "A day at Scarborough." "Well, York itself isn't such a bad place," I consoled. "I stay out of the way," he muttered. A month back I happened to be passing the Minster. 'Here,' this Yank calls over, 'Just to be clear - is this pre-war?' I glared, an' said, 'It's pre-America.' I just stay out of the way."
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