Boring Ourselves to Death?

by Liam Cartwright, professional organist and ordinand

A recent survey in The Times (March 14th 2022) suggested that going to church was the most boring activity a person can do, second only to being asleep. Sobering stuff for those of us whose vocation and life’s work is tied up in the church.

I have spent most of my professional career in church music. I am at a crossroads switching to full time ministry, approaching ordination this summer. I have a vested interest in going to church. The most boring thing one can do? Absolutely not. And yet often, absolutely yes.

I have had the privilege of experiencing some hugely inspiring worship. In my student days the combination of dramatic liturgy, organ improvisation and the awe inspiring architecture of Notre-Dame de Paris felt like a meeting of heaven and earth. Back here in the UK, Choral Evensong in our wonderful cathedrals has often been a transcendent experience. The finest choral music in the world has enabled me to glimpse something of the divine.

Sometimes my sense of collective worship conducting various parish choirs, or making music with fellow musicians in a worship band with fellow musicians, has been even more profound. My sense of being led by the Holy Spirit in a common purpose has taken me to a level which one could only experience worshipping God.

That said, I’ve also been bored and, at times, deeply frustrated at what passes for worship. Sometimes, preaching has been dull, or liturgy has been badly led. Other times, music has been poorly executed. Occasionally, I’ve sensed a complete lack of joy or engagement from those leading or worshipping.

Worst of all, though, is a kind of nervous blandness often encountered in the CofE. Ideas are dismissed because they are too Catholic, too Evangelical, too traditional, too modern, too different, not what we normally do. People might not like it, or it might not work. We cut singing merely to save time, or insist everything is said in case someone doesn’t know the music or understand all the words. Far too often we reluctantly opt for nothing as the least bad option.

Fear and a risk-averse culture pervades. Our intentions are noble, but the reality is dull.

I’ve heard clergy friends lament despairingly, “I’m leading worship that I would never want to go to myself”. My question is, “why do you do it like that then? If you don’t believe in what you’re doing, it’s unlikely anyone else will either.”

I’m a big believer in not pigeon-holing churches, worship or people. It’s rarely helpful.

We have so much that is good to learn from each other. I’ve seen real joy in worship at charismatic evangelical churches – people just thrilled to be there together, praising God as a church family. I’ve heard great preaching in these churches. The welcome, often with coffee and even breakfast thrown in, has been brilliant.

I’ve seen people flocking to Cathedral Evensongs to find peace and beauty – an oasis in a frenetic and busy world.

In theological colleges I’ve encountered creative worship that was fresh, imaginative, and spoke right into the heart of big issues in the real world. I’ve rejoiced in truly inclusive worship at Two:23 https://www.two23.net gatherings. I’ve shared, first hand, the joy of all of God’s children knowing they are accepted for who they are. It takes worship to another level.

I’ve seen small children at an All-Age Parish Eucharist transfixed by a polyphonic motet sung in Latin by the choir.

At On Fire mission conferences I’ve seen rooms full of people, many of whom would never have thought it was their thing, quietly overcome by the real presence of God in the sacrament during Exposition and Benediction.

Worship needs vibrancy and diversity. We have to stop just going through the motions. We must truly believe God will turn up and do stuff with his people. We can draw on many different traditions, enjoying the broad spectrum of available resources .

Doing this could be as simple as using our space and buildings more imaginatively, using incense or other sensory aids, or drawing more of the congregation into serving in the liturgy. If there are things people do not understand, explain, or even allow them to work it out for themselves. This doesn’t need cathedral choirs or lots of money and staff – just a real belief in what we’re doing, delivered with warmth and joy, thought and imagination.

We face a turning point as we emerge from the Covid 19 pandemic. It’s time to shape up or ship out. If our worship is to be vibrant and engaging, preserving all that’s good whilst embracing the new, we need to lose our defensiveness and draw on the rich breadth of the church.

We can’t do this without embracing equality. There are some tough questions to be asked. How long can we sustain cathedral choirs where boys have far more opportunities than girls, or only those children willing and privileged enough to board are able to take part? How long will church choirs survive if they refuse to sing any worship songs, and prioritise  their preferred style of music over the real purpose of worship? What does it mean to have great worship bands performing brilliantly, in an environment where theology is toxic and excludes many from God’s table?

All worship is for God. Without boldness there is blandness. We want to stop the boredom and enable people to experience God vividly through word, spirit and sacrament. This means ensuring our worship is vibrant, broad, rich and inclusive, always serving the mission of the church, creating a space where worshippers can encounter the divine.