Eco-Church on a Sunday
Maybe long dead monks and Sunak's eco-zealots sound much the same
Dear Human of Planet Earth,
How are you? With the exception of low-grade, chronic existential angst, I’m okay - at least as far as any of us are okay these days.
And today, I’m taking you to church with me. As the Quran would say, There is no compulsion in religion (2:256), but if you will, read on.
Return with me to a Sunday in late August, when I entered the Chaldon churchyard of St Peter and St Paul’s Church for the first time. The Reverend, on her way out, greeted us and apologised. Of course, it’s a very English thing to apologise when you haven’t anything to apologise for!
‘We’re re-wilding,’ she said, with a wave of her hand.
Indeed they were! And if the Reverend hadn’t explained, the churchyard signs certainly did.
My husband had persuaded me to abandon my To-Do list in favour of a long walk, with a drop-in to the ancient church to see a famous 12th century mural, one mentioned in William the Conqueror’s Domesday Book.
The mural is on the west wall of the church, behind the pews, a strikingly dread backdrop to your prayer and worship - and an exhausting sight for the reverend at the pulpit!
The travelling monk’s work was less about art and more about a simple narrative:
The ascent of your soul to heaven is difficult. Sin, temptation and devils will push for your downfall.
What was it like to be a parishioner of Chaldon 1000 years ago when a travelling monk/artist paused his travels long enough to create the mural people journey today to see?
Did the average human worry daily about the state of their soul and their salvation? Or was inducing such anxiety the principal purpose of monks and clergymen, precisely because most people were reasonably chilled about the whole thing?
Today I’d bet more people worry about having food, heating and healthcare than the state of their soul - but perhaps it was ever thus.
1000 years ago, our ancestors worried about famine, war and weather, as we do, but our generation is the first to worry about our own species extinction on the planetary level. Once, clouds had silver linings. Today we fear tipping points and positive feedback loops drawing us into a doomed and chaotic future beyond our imaginations.
Those of us who act out our worry with radical protest are disparagingly branded eco-zealots by Tory politicians. Even the Labour Party’s dear leader Keir Starmer distanced himself from ‘treehuggers’ and declares his party a party of power rather than protest.
St Peter and St Paul’s Church in Chaldon is proud to be an award-winning Eco-Church and their credentials are on display for all visitors to see.1 On the day we visited, they listed extinct species alongside the names of fallen war veterans.
Meanwhile, their re-wilding project provides a small sanctuary for life to thrive and grow, and an example to visitors.
The little Chaldon church is packed with crypts, plaques and dedications.
If only because I associate burials with graveyards, rather than the internal building of a church, the crypts reminded me of the opening scene of The Miniaturist. Jessie Burton’s novel, set in the 1600s, opens with a woman being buried in a church crypt. Her gay brother, found guilty of ‘unnatural’ sexual practices is executed by drowning in the sea. The Miniaturist reminds us how brutally and cruelly homophobic Christian Church practice was over recent centuries.
Away from fiction, we know some church communities and doctrines haven’t changed in their brutality and cruelty.
The Chaldon Church isn’t one of them though. There were fliers at the entrance about a ‘Christians for Pride’ event. And it’s nearly impossible to miss the welcoming words on the sizeable Pride flag near the churchyard gate.
My second visit was in October, last weekend in fact. This time, at the entrance, I noted a poster expressing climate solidarity with the Global South. The poster’s sentiment is an ask for climate justice everywhere, though the impacts of our changing climate are already greatest in regions where the contributions to the unfolding catastrophe are least. Hence paying for ‘loss and damage’ applies even more to the Global South.
Within the church that October day, was a prayer for all our fellow humans suffering in Israel and Palestine (Gaza and The West Bank) and a map of Gaza, set up as if on an altar.
The simple prayer ends with,
Send us your wisdom in all that we say and do,
That our voice may always seek justice, peace and security for all.
Amen
Over the last 19 days, wisdom and restraint have been largely absent in public discourse, as we humans hurry to camp over in Team Israel or Team Palestine. Calls for peace, or even a ceasefire, have been ridiculed. Extreme vengeance has been cheered on loudly. Solidarity with Palestinians has been conflated with support for Hamas and terrorism, or even with anti-Semitism.
A prayer for justice, peace and security for all? Amen to that.
Does the Church make us, or do we make it?
I don’t think there is a black-and-white answer to that.
Layla Moran, a British politician of Palestinian origins, told us last week her relatives were sheltering in a church in Gaza. Churches have long been places of sanctuary.
And enablers of war. The Catholic Church is remembered for its support of Hitler. Or was it complicity and appeasement? Either way, churches remain institutions of complicity and oppression.
Some churches preach hate while other churches preach love. Church communities can be racist but they can equally be anti-racist. They can preach materialism as a manifestation of God’s favour, or they can preach care for our natural world as a spiritual responsibility.
As the cliché goes, all things rise and fall on leadership. But what determines leadership?
Many churches have democratic practices. Individuals opt-in and out of congregations based on whether they feel safe, respected and part of the community.
Today’s churches are not as all-powerful as they were when the monk’s fear-inspiring image of the soul’s difficult ascent to heaven - and its inevitable risk of falling into the pit of hell - became part of the Chaldon church’s west wall.
So, do churches make us, or do we make them? Today, I’d say it’s complicated and the influence goes both ways.
For those of us who do not belong to religious communities, what, if anything, takes the place of the church-masjid-synagogue-temple in our lives?
If religion provides meaning, do the rest of us search for meaning through activism, life experience, material accumulation or the exploration of ideas? Do we find meaning in community? Is it possible to find meaning without community?
Personally, I’m not consciously seeking meaning or community. I don’t think I ever have. I tend to seek truth and purpose. What’s the truth and how can I best be useful?
When I left my religious faith and practice 8 years ago, a friend expressed a concern that I’d replaced religiosity with eco-zealotry; that I’d transferred my religious energy into a new, dangerously rigid vessel.
I’ve turned his accusation upside down in my mind and found it wanting.
But there is a fair comparison to be made between those Rishi Sunak describes as eco-zealots and the travelling monk who painted the Chaldon church mural, because for both there is a simple, earnest, burning message:
There are good deeds to be done, and catastrophe awaits you lest you fail to do them. Save your souls/ Save your habitat. And ignore these warnings at your peril.
I’m with the eco-zealots.
Woke or Anti-Woke?
Lately, engaging with the climate emergency as a serious and urgent matter has been judged as ‘wokery’ by the Woke Police. It’s a bit like the ‘Are you with us or against us?’ question. Are you ‘Woke’ or ‘Anti-Woke’?
Forget the ‘Wokery.’
In the interest of truth and integrity we should all stand for what we believe - and where what we believe doesn’t land on either side of a polarised or irrational discussion, we should have the courage to say so. The grey area is a wide plane, though it’s not fashionable to say so.
Moral courage is tested when speaking your truth is difficult.
I’d like to think the Chaldon Church didn’t waste energy worrying about the Woke Police, and instead came to all their positions through sincere exploration.
I’d like to think you and I will have the courage to do the same.
Lots of Love,
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Radical,
Croydon,
London,
That patch of earth known today as the United Kingdom
Lat +51.51 Long, -0.118
Learn more about the Chaldon Church here.
This was a lovely piece. I must visit Chaldon Church sometime. I’ve often reflected that terms such as “woke” or “politically correct” are just used as catch alls to disenfranchise anyone who dares to show a bit of care and empathy in this world. Maybe using those words helps to cancel out feelings of guilt on the part of the user.