St James Church - the last gasp

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In this morning's post I found the Deed of Deconsecration issued by the Bishop that marks a formal end to the life of St James' Church building in relation to the Parish. It was closed for worship 16th September last year. Legal responsibility now passes to the Representative Body of the Church in Wales, which as trustee of all church properties, is able to lease or sell it on the open market. It means the end of (albeit minor) bill payments, and maintenance obligations. Not that we've been able to afford to do anything to maintain it, apart from pay someone to mow the can and bottle strewn prairie which was once the church lawn. If anything had happened to the place that could cause danger to the public, the Parish would have been obliged to pay up to make it safe. Thankfully that now becomes someone else's responsibility.

Just the day before receiving the Deed, I was showing around the church a couple of people looking for performance space to hire, possibly for a year, while Chapter Arts centre undergoes a major renovation. The building will now be handed over to an estate agent, and who knows, maybe it will be possible for Chapter to do a deal that suits their needs. I imagine that even a year's lease would be regarded favourably, given that the building standing empty is still going to need some expenditure to keep it safe and secure.

When I went in there last week to show someone around, I discovered that a door had been left unlocked by its last visitor. Fortunately none of the area's rough sleepers had discovered this and taken advantage of it, even if a few do use the side alley for a toilet from time to time. In former times, it was used by druggies as a 'shooting gallery', but things have improved - one of those stand-alone automatic pay toilets near Roath Library is now their favoured place. Hundreds of needles a week a fished out of the wire mesh grid under the floor which serves to filter out blocking materials from the automatic sanitation system that keeps the floor clean.

I just want to see some good use made of the huge empty building, as soon as possible. It's a scandal it's stood empty and unusued for nearly a year, and only partly used for a lot longer. It might have been more 'ethical' to invite all of Cardiff's down and outs to hang out there and use it to sleep in. But with no toilet or washing facilities, and nobody to look after the building or exercise any care over the poor folk compelled to fall back upon it, it would have quickly have become a neighbour from hell to Tredegarville school, which backs on to the church. A church that stands empty and unused for any reason is a symptom, not only of the collapse of religious community, but in fact the collapse of community in the wider sense, and the inability of local government, statutory and voluntary agencies to rise to the challenge of meeting the need of those who are, in a sense, the 'collateral damage' resulting from social fragmentation.

'Deed of de-consecration' - what a non-sequitor, what an inelegant phrase! You cannot undo the fact that this great building was consecrated - from the first ideas of the Vicar and patrons who wanted it, to the first designs of the architect who built it, to the solemn prayers uttered by the Bishop when it was opened as a place of worship. The fact that it has been abandoned for sacred purposes (and it was erected by public subscription), is an everlasting reproach, and a stain on the history of the church in the twentieth century.

Part of the weakness of the church, perhaps since its earliest time, is that it permits the mystery of the sacred to have legal substance and definition, so that it can have social status in civil society. The one minor practical difference a 'deed of deconsecration' makes is that a building that has been state registered for marriages since its earliest days, thereby entitling residents of the Parish to be married therein, can now officially be un-registered with the civil authorities.

Any time in the past year, it would have been theoretically possible for someone to demand a marriage or a funeral in the church, and have the legal right to do so. If a church is only 'closed' and there is another church open and available in the Parish, there is sufficient provision as law requires, from the viewpoint of both the Bishop and the state registrar. But just imagine the hassles if someone awkward had wanted to insist on their 'rights' and sought a legal ruling, or maybe compensation claim for the lack of availability of St James'. Yes, it's silly, but we live in silly times where hungry lawyers are concerned. Well, nobody asked, and it's finally no more a worry to me.

Well, not quite - only last week did we get legal permission to remove the font and reredos, side chapel screen and bronze war memorials. We have the building contractors lined up to do the work, but it's August, and they've not committed themselves to a removal date yet. It's not over until it's over, as they say in the movies.

Good Samaritan Sunday

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The shadow of dissolution of the city centre social services team as part of an 'improvement' to local authority social services provision has loomed for eighteen months or more, despite high level denials by the political leadership. This is a great worry, as it will have an impact on those who suffer, and on the rest of those who work in, use or visit the city at any time. Last Sunday I found myself preaching about this, and again today, perhaps more searchingly, conscious as I am of our limitations as a city parish church, and of the ambitions of the missionary newcomers in Tredegarville. Here's what I said.

"The story of the Good Samaritan is so familiar and can be applied universally. Jesus wants the world to know that it’s compassion for others in their suffering and need, couple with practical action to help them, that is the true measure of faithful religious believing, and of what it means to love one’s neighbour. Would that life were so simple.
Beggars outside the church gate, the same faces year in year out. Destitute certainly, but also begging to feed the drug habit that has them excluded from hostels, and in and out of court and detention, since there are few sustained programmes to help them stay off drugs, and able to heal the inner wounds that drive them to drug-taking to start with.
People give money so often because they need to make themselves feel better, they give despite being informed that they are contributing to that sufferer’s slow death from drugs.
What is compassion in such a case? Is it feeding the habit? Is it getting beggars moved on arrested, then pressurising the establishment for solutions that work? Is it donating to a charity that directly deals with addiction problems? Who has the time, the energy and the resources to do as godly a job as the Samaritan did on the man who fell amongst thieves? What would Jesus do, where would Jesus start with such a complex social, moral, spiritual problem? Would he preach? Or would he listen? Would he ask ‘Do you want to be free, well, doing something you’d prefer to do with your life?’ and wait for an answer? Would a miracle take place just because he was there? We read that sometimes it did, and other times it didn’t for want of faith among people in places he visited.
The old man who sings Gospel songs in the alley will preach to anyone sitting there, as well as anyone passing by, hand them tracts, even distribute bibles if requested, and do so with much love and kindness. But does he, do we, actually have time to listen, to befriend the sufferers. Do we even know they care about any attention we give them, as opposed to money? I confess I don’t have any answers, and don’t know where to start. Sometimes I pray for the right words to be given, but they don’t come, so I stay silent, and I just look, not knowing if there’s anything I can do that represents that saving grace of God demonstrated in the Samaritan’s compassion. Even the kindly tea and sandwich offered could mean a few quid saved towards the next drug fix. It’s a hard dilemma to face.
Some think that such manifestations of untreated chronic mental health problems should be eliminated from our shiny new streets, tucked away somewhere else anywhere but here.
The Nazi mind-set lurks in the shadows of many a heart and mind. The true test of the moral and spiritual worth of our proud capital city is how well we deal with such deep suffering, how successful are our rehabilitation measures. But there’s not much about any of this in the city’s development strategy and action plans. What can we do to help people get better, conquer addiction, make a new life for themselves? I’m at a loss to know. Maybe you’re the same. Let’s go back to the Samaritan.
He was in hostile territory. Jews treated Samaritans badly, vilified them, excluded them for being only a little bit different in faith and culture. So maybe he had some experience of being hurt, victimised. Maybe he was only doing what someone had once done for him, and acting out of gratitude when he rescued this mugging victim, identifying with him in his broken loneliness.
What happens to us when we are hurt, and nobody notices, nobody cares? We become sad, depressed, inwardly isolated, whatever’s going on externally. And we have all sorts of ways to cover it up – being very busy, over-working, over-indulging and so on. It helps to talk, but only with someone who gives you space, and enables you to feel you’ve been listened to at a deep level, who lets you tell your story, and feel your real feelings. So often the best and wisest of counsellors have come through much suffering themselves. Is there someone here with the gift of listening in healing depth to those whose broken lives are shrouded in a narcotic haze? Is it me? Is it you? If it is, Jesus will be there with us, where two of three are gathered together.
If we can’t face it. If it isn’t our calling, let’s not ignore the discomfort before our faces, but take it into our deepest prayer of intercession for those who can and will help, and those who need it, but stay inwardly restless about it, until we see a real change for the better in the poor who are, as Jesus said: ‘With us always’."