There has been a recent flurry of eulogies commemorating the passing of… well, various things, including the church, Christianity, and God himself.

A survey by The Times claims that three quarters of Church of England priests think Britain is no longer a Christian country, and many believe the church is on the verge of extinction. (I have little of worth to say about that, except to refer you to these pieces by Danny Webster and Ian Paul, which highlight some of the questionable methodology and ambiguity in the survey!)

This is only the latest of a series of articles, contributing to the now-well-worn narrative that Christianity is on an inexorable decline. And what I’m fascinated by is the comment pieces that have followed. Not the death notice, nor the autopsy, but the eulogies.

Eulogies for the church

One of the things that has struck me has been the wistful tone of many responses. Largely written by people who would not identify as Christians, they reflect with some sorrow on the great benefits of religion, the void left by the ‘death of Christianity’, and their fear of what may fill it.

Just a few (not-uncontroversial) examples from recent weeks. Rod Liddle laments how banishing Christianity has left us in a moral wilderness; Tim Stanley argues that by discrediting religion, new atheism created a void to be filled with ‘dangerous ideologies’ from which only Christianity might be able to save us; Juliet Samuel explores how the waning of faith has allowed other structures – such as conspiracy theories, fads, and political tribalism – to rise up and fill the vacuum; and Matthew Parris wonders whether by abolishing God, we have appointed ourselves as judges who presume to know the thoughts and motives of others.

The reasons for lament are not all high-brow! Each of these articles – and others besides – bemoans the loss of down-to-earth things associated with Christianity and the church, for instance: community; a physical meeting place; a force for social cohesion; ancient wisdom and guidance for the challenges of life; routine to ground us in a busy world; space for rest and reflection, and much more…    

I can’t help but wonder, why has it taken the (alleged) death of the church to lead to this outpouring of praise? Why did people not recognise and celebrate these benefits before this point? I wonder if there aren’t two main reasons: now it’s easier to see it, and it’s easier to say it.

It’s easier to see it: Blowing trumpets and clanging cymbals

In one sense it’s no surprise that the decline of the church would be the very thing that would wake people up to the benefits that were staring them in the face the whole time. After all, as the old proverb says, you never miss water until your well runs dry. Or as the slightly less old Joni Mitchell lyric puts it,

“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone.”

We so often don’t notice something until we’re faced with its absence, and no doubt that is part of what’s going on here. People are beginning to realise how much of a hole the church has plugged for years. (Consider for example this piece on how much churches save the government per year, in volunteer time, social care, and more. The numbers are staggering and run far into the billions.)   

But it does make me sad that people have been unable to recognise these benefits before, and that it’s taken their impending loss to wake us up to the potential good that the church has to offer. Why is that? Is it just how ‘it always seems to go’? Is it because the media tends to focus on the negative stories of failure, abuse, and scandal (of which there are tragically far too many!!) instead of profiling the stories of positive impact? Is the fault ours? Might it be that the church has become known largely for what we’re against, such that people have been unsure, until it was too late, what we are actually for?

If so, therein lies a catch-22, because some might say we could have done a better job of blowing our own trumpet. But there’s a fine line between celebratory fanfare and clanging cymbal, and what’s intended as the former may, if it becomes about self-promotion rather than love, sound more like the latter (1 Cor 13.1). And nobody wants to hear that.

Whatever the church could or should have done differently, another thing that struck me about the so-called eulogies is their parallel to another recent loss…

It’s easier to say it: Spineless Tributes

Earlier this year, Sinéad O’Connor – who herself was very outspoken on issues around religion, politics, and abuse in the church – was found dead at her flat in London, leading to an outpouring of tributes on social media, including from many in the music industry.

In the midst of the praise, Morrissey – a longtime fan and friend of O’Connor – posted a blog condemning those who failed her in life and only celebrated her in death. He writes,

“There is a certain music industry hatred for singers who don’t ‘fit in’ […] and they are never praised until death – when, finally, they can’t answer back. The cruel playpen of fame gushes with praise for Sinead today … with the usual moronic labels of “icon” and “legend”. You praise her now ONLY because it is too late. You hadn’t the guts to support her when she was alive and she was looking for you.”

In a similar vein, Lily Allen tweeted about how incensed she was by the spineless tributes of those who praised Sinéad’s fearlessness in death, but would never in a million years have aligned themselves with her previously.

“If you can’t stand up for people in life don’t do it in death.”

And in a follow-up tweet she wrote:

“It’s also troubling that people have seemingly felt so empathetic towards her but didn’t feel that they could show it or express it for some reason. until they died. what does that say about us?”

Indeed! What does that say about us?

There are plenty reasons why someone may give praise in death to someone they neglected or derided in life, and many of them are not great.

For some, it may be the feeling of guilt, that you never gave them the time, attention or respect they were due. So you overcompensate in post-mortem praise. For others, it may be the fact that expressing praise in life would have been costly, to your reputation or career. Many people stay silent, for fear of being associated with someone in a way that might tarnish them. Or perhaps expressing praise during someone’s lifetime might demand something of you that you’re not willing to give. As if the recipient of the praise may turn around and say, “well, if you truly believe that, come join me!”

So many people wait until the person is powerless to answer back, and only express praise when it’s easier, less costly, or – dare I say – fashionable to do so.

Morrissey and Lily Allen are right to draw our attention to that cowardice and hypocrisy, even while realising that for many, their silence would not have been a conscious act, but a thoughtless one.

So what of the eulogies for the demise of Christianity? It strikes me that some of them may be born out of similar motives. Perhaps a feeling of guilt at having never taken Christianity seriously and giving it the true thought that it deserved. Perhaps some find it easier to speak positively of Christianity once they feel it is less costly to do so; when there’s less chance of someone turning round and saying, “well, if you truly believe that, join us!” or (as Jesus might put it) “take up your cross and follow me” (Matthew 16.24).

It is far easier to praise a church that’s not going to make demands of you. And so I confess to seeing some of the recent tributes as being somewhat in the spineless category.

But not – to be clear – all! Not by any means. I think that many of them represent a genuine sorrow and feeling of longing. Whether it’s a longing for God, or community, or structure, or what, I don’t know. Probably a mixture.

In which there’s good news.

Premature Eulogies

Upon reading his obituary in the paper, Mark Twain is said to have responded:

“The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

Whilst the story is almost-certainly-embellished, it’s a snappy line, which applies nicely to our subject

Reports of the death of the church have been greatly exaggerated.

I believe this to be the case for at least four reasons. The first is experiential. I’ve had the privilege of attending, speaking at, and visiting churches in which there is an enormous amount of life and vitality! I could take you to churches up and down the country and in many denominations, whose doors are wide open to their communities, and who are seeing people attend and discover faith in large numbers.

The second is evidential. While there certainly is evidence of decline in certain parts of the church, the overall picture is far more complex and nuanced. See, for example, this interview between Ian Paul and Dr Rhiannon McAleer from Bible Society. Added to this, is the fact that large numbers of people who identified as having ‘no religion’ (colloquially known as ‘nones’, but not to be confused with their homophonic-counterparts ‘nuns’) still have strong spiritual longings and beliefs. As this report explores, spirituality and religion haven’t gone away, and aren’t likely to any time soon.

The third is cultural. Christian influence is so deeply embedded into the way we have come to see our world, that we can’t do without it. Increasingly people are recognising that the Western world, though often antagonistic to Christianity, is deeply indebted to the very faith it has rejected. Our assumptions, values, and longings are born out of Christian influence. It is (to steal the title of Glen Scrivener’s book on this subject), in the air we breathe. So even if the church – or at least the established, historic denominations – were to pass away, the very seeds of the Christian faith would still remain in every area of our culture. Like the blood of Abel, crying out…

The fourth is biblical. The prophets spoke of God’s temple being established on the highest mountain, and all nations flocking to it (Isaiah 2.2ff; Micah 4.1ff); Jesus spoke of a Kingdom that would continue to grow and provide shelter for the birds of the air (Matthew 13.31-35). He said he will build his church and the gates of hades would not prevail against it (Matthew 16.18). And he is committed to feeding and caring for us, his body and bride, washing us clean (though we don’t half make the job hard for him!) so that we might be his ‘radiant church’ (Ephesians 5.25–33).

My trust in the God who keeps His promises gives me hope.

A final appeal.

So in response to the eulogies – be they spineless tributes, or heartfelt feelings of loss – I want to say, “it’s not too late.”

If you are only speaking up now because doing so seems challenge-free and uncostly, I want to say, put your money where your mouth is! Test your convictions. If you really believe the church may have something vital to offer, then why don’t you come along and try it for yourself. Maybe visit a few different churches, from different denominations and styles. You may be surprised to find more life than you’d ever expected.   

And if you are genuinely now coming to see something of the beauty of the church, and fear that you’re only recognising it when the moment has passed, fear not. The church is not going anywhere, and all those things you’re looking for can still be found. And there are many of us – myself included – who would love nothing more than to help you find what you’re seeking. Support, community, solitude, wisdom, hope… and perhaps even God.

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