The Empty Pew
The following is the text of what was intended to be the basis of a small book on the future of the ministry in the Church of Scotland. It was never finished and never saw the light of day. It has been gathering dust in a box file for more than 30 years. I leave it to readers to decide whether it should have been left to slumber.
Please remember that the following text (1) was written in the late 1970s and reflects the position at that time and (2) remains unfinished and unedited; indeed, it finishes somewhat abruptly. There are no chapter headings.
In some cases, I have changed the tenses into the past, as otherwise it would make little sense. I have resisted the temptation even to attempt to finish the book as I feel that I lack sufficient knowledge of the current challenges and opportunities of ministry, both ordained and lay.
I doubt if, in 2014, things are rosier than in the late 1970s. In some case apathy towards the Christian message has moved towards marginalisation or even hostility. Secular humanism is aggressively on the march in Scotland today. Yet personally I do believe deep down that the Gospel will again triumph in our land. This may not be in my lifetime.
Whatever else this little book may be, it is not an autobiography although I have to admit that it is subjective and, at least to a degree, self-opinionated. Not all of what is said will commend itself to every reader. The book is directed at the broad stream of the Church of Scotland, ministers, elders, members and adherents. It would be unreasonable to expect the writer of a book such as this not to have opinions. There is certainly no suggestion that the writer has all the answers to the many challenges that face the Kirk today in the late 1970s.
As a minister, I would describe myself as belonging to the mainstream evangelical tradition of the Church of Scotland, of which I am certainly not uncritical, as you will see. To some people the very word “evangelical” is immediately off-putting as it is often linked to prejudiced stereotypes.[18] To some, it brings up pictures of ranting and Bible thumping. To others it may suggest a neo-fundamentalist and narrow interpretation of Scripture.
One of the most unhelpful things any minister can do to his own ministry is to slap labels on himself. Frequently, perhaps inevitably, they will be misunderstood. As ministers, we are called to minister not only to the whole spectrum of the people of God but also to the many un-churched people who live within the bounds of our parishes.[19]
We are fortunate in the Church of Scotland in many ways. Although we now represent a minority of the population of Scotland, we do still hold the respect and affection of many who never enter a church door. That is not something about which we should be complacent, but it is an encouraging factor.
Furthermore, churchy people should not be as ready as they sometimes are to condemn those who seldom or never come to church. Very often, those of us who have been brought up in a church-going tradition completely fail to understand those who have not and for whom church has no obvious relevance or attraction. There exists a considerable cultural gap and this gap grows wider with each passing year.
Fortunately, the church, as the Body of Christ, is not merely a human institution or a business that we can measure in a cost-effective manner and whose ills can be put right by changing structures and tinkering with administrative procedures. That is not to suggest that it is spiritual to be muddled and chaotic or that costs and economies of scale are unimportant. Although we can humbly and gratefully see the power of the hand of God in the church every day, that does not mean that we can rely on the same old, same old. There are ongoing culture changes [20] taking place and only too often the church will seem to running to catch up with contemporary society rather than giving a lead.
Indeed, it is only by the sovereign Grace of God that the church continues even to function on a day-to-day basis. There is a two-fold aspect to this.
· Firstly, because we are promised the guidance and power of the Holy Spirit, we can be lulled into a kind of inertia in which we believe that everything will somehow work itself out for the best. After all it is God’s church and God knows what he is doing, doesn’t he? Yes, indeed he does, but is that a reason to sit back and do nothing, to allow our devotions to become sloppy, our worship to be cold and formal in the blind belief that “our Kirk” will never close? Perhaps we need to bear in mind the biting comments of Jeremiah about those who said of the Temple in Jerusalem over and over again “This is the Lord’s Temple” and just refused to believe that it could ever cease to exist.
· Secondly, there is the temptation to look for purely human solutions to difficulties. Given a problem, foreseen or otherwise, the average Kirk Session will have 101 suggestions as to what might be done. It will be a rare Kirk Session that will say spontaneously “Let us pray about it and seek God’s guidance.” It will be an even rarer Kirk Session that will say it and also mean it.
There is often a deep seated, almost intractable, attitude that (a) somehow things will work out for the best because it is the church and (b) most problems can be solved with a little bit of human action. It has to be kept in mind that many elders – and a surprisingly high proportion of ministers – are “Type A” people who see the world in black and white terms and often apply simplistic solutions to complex issues. Perhaps we need to take more seriously the “supernatural” aspects of the church and, at the same time, thoroughly examine all the human and institutional attitudes that we find in it.
It is suggested that we begin by looking at the ministry of the church or, rather, the ministers of the church. The two are not the same, in fact, although often presumed to be so. I start with the ministers not because I think they are most important aspect of the church or that the church exists for them but simply because that is where most people start.
As a minister myself [21] I am naturally biased. I could scarcely be otherwise. Let me suggest at the outset that the people of Scotland have been very fortunate indeed in past centuries in the high quality of ministry that has been exercised among them. Of course there have been exceptions and some of them notorious. There have been times in the past when some ministers have been too ready to be associated with the views of their wealthy patrons, as happened in the Highland Clearances in certain parts of the country. Nevertheless, on balance, the quality of ministry has been and remains high, although perhaps less “heavyweight” today than is former times.
Scotland, although a small country, has traditionally enjoyed an international reputation for her scholarship. A particular mark of ministry in Scotland since the Reformation has, not surprisingly, been education. This is in contrast to the historical position in the Church of England where the younger sons of gentlemen might take Holy Orders as an alternative to entering the army. In Scotland, it was virtually unknown for members of an aristocratic family to enter ministry, most ministers traditionally being scholars, often the sons of crofters.
There were, of course, temptations. Some parishes within the established Kirk could produce a more than adequate living; others were poor or comparatively so. Usually, however, a minister in an agricultural parish enjoyed a far higher standard of living than his parishioners, with the exception of the Laird.
With the rise of the middle classes in Scotland, following on the Industrial Revolution, the ministry became not only a highly respected profession but one to be socially much desired. That observation is not intended to be cynical. It is merely a healthy reminder that human motives are, at their best, somewhat mixed.
The perceived gentrification of the church meant that, with important and significant exceptions, the impact on ordinary people tended to be dulled. To the masses of toiling people who came in from the country to fill the narrow streets and wynds of the rapidly growing towns and cities, there was a perceived gap between them and the local minister. It is important to stress the word “perceived” in this context. Perception and reality may differ considerably.
The Roman Catholic Church had an entirely different tradition in the nineteenth century. Their priests tended to be adequately trained in practical and pastoral matters and could relate well to their rapidly increasing flocks, especially among the poorer working classes in cities like Liverpool and Glasgow. Generally, the academic achievements of most priests fell far short of those of Presbyterian ministers and yet their ministries were often more effective, if the truth be told. Interestingly, most Presbyterian ministerial candidates until well into the twentieth century received little or no formal instruction in what we now call Practical Theology.[22]
In Scotland, both the established church and the Free Church made brave efforts among the urban poor, especially in such cities as Glasgow on the nineteenth century. It is important not to overstate the position or to undervalue what was achieved. Yet, increasingly, church membership was seen as something to be aspired to by the “up and coming”, the emerging middle class and the skilled and provident working class. Some of the sharpest social divisions in Victorian Scotland were between the different layers of the working classes.
It was not that most people at the lower end of the working classes thought for a moment that the church was evil or that a minister was an enemy of the people. Rather, it was increasingly felt that he lived in a different world and belonged to a different ethos. It was well known that ministers studied for many years at university.
To a large extent, this attitude was to hang on into the twentieth century. Mr Average Non-Churchgoer of the late 1970s probably does not have anything particular against ministers.[23] He may even think that they have a purpose to fulfil within their “limited” sphere. It can be useful to wheel them out on certain set formal occasions. He may think of the minister as part of the natural order and establishment, a man with an educated background who lives in a large grey stone house next to the church or in one of the better residential streets. Almost certainly he will not think of the minister as being in any way overworked. After all, he only works on part of Sunday and maybe does an occasional hospital visit, doesn’t he? If he hears bad reports of a particular minister he will usually believe them without question.
But this view of ministry does not only apply to the un-churched; to a surprising degree it can also be found in our congregations. It is, of course, only right and proper for members of any congregation to have high expectations of their minister. It is not so good when they perceive him as living on some higher plane, unaware of the real problems and frustrations of ordinary people. Very often the membership will also assume that there are two standards of morality: one for ministers and one for everyone else. Naturally, the standard for ministers will be by far the higher and more restrictive!
In many ways, congregations often operate almost as though they were missionary societies: they will see it as their duty to support a “missionary”, i.e. the minister, to get on with the good work. They will see him as embodying the “ministry” of the church and that he should be grateful for their support. It would not come easily to think that they are “the church” and that it is the minister’s role to support them in their ministry.
Let us look at an imaginary scenario, in which the reader is a fly on the wall at a visit by a minister to the home of Mrs Pew, a lady who has been a member of Erewhon Parish Church for thirty years and who does (occasionally) attend on Sundays other than Communion and Christmas. The minister rings the door bell. The door opens and there stands Mrs Pew with a harassed and impatient look on her face. If the minister had been a brush salesman or a Jehovah’s Witness, he would have got the sharp edge of her tongue.
However, she sees that it is the minister and, although she groans inwardly, she forces a dazzling smile and invites him into the “best” room. They talk somewhat stiltedly of the weather and how it affects the health of the community, the cost of living and how difficult it must be for older people to manage and indeed how this could also apply to younger people …
She offers the minister a cup of tea which, somewhat to her surprise and slight irritation, he accepts. She does not, of course, serve it in the usual mug but insists on using the “best” tea-set out of the china cabinet, having hurriedly blown the dust off the cups and saucers in the kitchen.
Mrs Pew reminds the minister that she has been a member of the Kirk for a great many years. Although she cannot manage to come to church every Sunday because of (unspecified) “family commitments” she always puts in her envelope and has Life and Work delivered to her (She never actually reads it but it is a handy size to put under the cat’s litter tray.)
As the minister leaves, Mrs Pew indicates that she will definitely be at church on Sunday. She is as good as her word and even manages to drag her sullen and bored-looking husband with her. Mrs Pew’s eyes close during the sermon, although perhaps it is in deep concentration. At the church door, she shakes the minister warmly by the hand and thanks him for his “very helpful message”. In spite of this positive feedback, she does not appear in the congregation again until the next Communion.
In fact, she confides to the elder who delivers her Communion cards that she has never really quite “taken” to the “new” minister. (The minister has actually been in the charge for over seven years.) She says to the elder: “Why are ministers today not like we had when we were young? When I was a girl, Mr Priestly was the minister at the West Kirk. He was like a father to us all, always a smile, always a joke and such lovely stories for the children. And you should have seen him at the Sunday-School Party. What a laugh he was! Of course, they should never have closed the West Kirk. I used to sing in the choir twice a Sunday until I got married. I don’t know what’s wrong nowadays. Ministers just aren’t what they used to be, are they?”
The elder sighs sympathetically. “You are so right”, he says. “Mind you, the minister’s a nice enough man and I’m sure he’s very sincere. I think he actually does work quite hard but he’s not bringing the young people in and everything just gets left to the same few folk. I’m retiring from work next year and I think I’ll do the same with the eldership. Anyway, I really need to get the garden into shape.”
Is this a parody? Probably not! More likely it reflects a realistic enough situation. There seems to be no real and meaningful communication between the minister and Mrs Pew far less her husband. Mrs Pew feels that she can express a little of her frustration to her elder although even there she skates round the issues and prefers to rely on nostalgia for the “good old days”.
The real reasons for her non-attendance and non-participation in the life of the church are her unhappy marriage; and there is also the unresolved issue (for her) of the fact that her son, who is quite strongly anti-church, is in a sexual relationship with another man. She feels that she could not raise either of these issues with the minister, the elder or anyone else in the church. What would people think?
It’s not that she actually dislikes the minister, even if she hasn’t really “taken” to him. He has always been perfectly pleasant to her and even paid her a visit that time she was in hospital. It’s just that he seems to come from a different cultural tradition, even if she would not put it quite that way. Mrs Pew comes from a stable and industrious working-class background and, although her family were not actually quite as religious as she now seems to recollect, her upbringing certainly did have some Christian influence. She would have received basic Bible instruction in School and Sunday-School which children today generally do not receive.
She lives in an immaculate council house and her husband has worked his way up to being a shop manager. Her son, who lives in a flat of his own with his male friend,[24] has a secure, if dull, job with the local authority.
Yet, she feels poles apart from the minister. He is in his 50s, rather set in his ways and, although perfectly friendly, quite reserved. The minister’s own father was a solicitor and his grandfather was a minister. His wife teaches in an exclusive private school for girls. The minister and his wife have two sons who have both been through university and seem to be doing quite well in settled professional jobs. The minister himself is known to be somewhat of a historian and has published a book on the Victorian Graveyards of Scotland. His sermons and prayers are always well thought out and thoroughly prepared. In spite of the fact that he is unfailingly courteous, Mrs Pew does not feel she can communicate with him. Her elder seems to have similar difficulties. So, what is wrong and who is to blame?
Well, the minister certainly cannot help who he is any more than can Mrs Pew. It is no fault of the minister that he comes from a legal and ministerial lineage or that he was brought up in a comfortable middle class home. Again, it is hardly culpable on the minister’s part that he is interested in historical matters or that he is an authority on Victorian cemeteries. His wife teaches so that they can afford to live in the large and creaking Regency manse that the Presbytery and congregation consider suitable accommodation for the minister and his family. His wife has chosen to teach in a private school having tried to teach in the local comprehensive (attended by the children of many of their parishioners) for six months where she found the experience intolerable. Nor can they help it if their two boys were bright enough to go through university.
The gap exists and whilst there will always be reasons for this it is unfair as well as being pointless to attempt to apportion blame. The situation has developed over a great many years for subtle socio-historical reasons.
· There has always been at least a degree of respect for the ministry of the Word in Scotland. Even today, the minister will often be shown into the best room or given the best chair and offered the best china.