Sunday 8 December 2019

62. St Peter ad Vincula, Hampton Lucy



This leisurely pilgrimage round places of worship has uncovered (for me at least) many hidden gems. Tucked away in back streets or in out of the way villages, some in buildings you wouldn’t even look at twice as you pass. Not so here. It would be hard to imagine a church less tucked away that St Peter ad Vincula in Hampton Lucy. You can see this church from miles around thanks, in part, to the flat fields around the village but mainly as a result of its wonderful soaring stonework. In this morning’s early sunshine it glows a fine shade of gold among what’s left of nature’s green.

I’m here on a bit of a gamble. Finding out when churches hold services can be very hit and miss. In these times of information at your fingertips you can easily be fooled into thinking that anything you want to know on any subject is just a click or two away. But there are still pockets of life which have yet to fully embrace the possibilities of social media, and the church finds itself, in my view, half in and half out of that pocket. A search for this church yields plenty of fine pictures and a clutch of local history articles, but finding something as basic as a timetable proves tricky.

I’m not saying churches have an obligation to advertise their business online -  like so many organisations they rely heavily on volunteers whose time may not be as regular as you’d hope. But with dwindling numbers and the church’s own sworn mission to reach out to the world, it has to be a serious consideration. Perhaps some enterprising person could recognise this gap in the market an move in, although I suspect effort will always outstrip returns.

Anyway, an online version of a village newsletter gives me hope that we’re on for 9.30 and, thankfully, the door is open. The picture inside the church is just as good as the stunning exterior - or it would be if the view of the magnificent stained glass ensemble behind the altar wasn’t obscured by a huge TV poised to deliver the service. I’m so aware of becoming an old curmudgeon about these things but if turning a beautiful church into a corporate meeting room is the price you must pay for not having to use hymn books or orders of service, then - in this case at least - it’s too high. Perhaps it’s a fad and will pass in time. I hope so.

The early service this morning is a family offering. The warm welcome from the minister warns of children and antics, but in truth it’s a very calm and well-structured hour. We have young volunteers to light the advent candles, set out the cross and flowers and then to form the focus of the minister’s talk, which comes after a selection of songs and hymns.

The theme is ‘making choices’ with the focus aimed at the younger congregation. A series of either/or questions has the very young volunteers thinking about what they would do - and very probably what they think the adults would want them to do. Will you go straight to bed or make a fuss? Would you share your new toys or reserve them for yourself? Would you take that extra biscuit or stick to what you’ve been allowed? They’re all gentle explorations of the moral questions which guide our behaviour in all we do. 

Learning the difference between what you can get away with and what you probably ought to do is a lesson which, in my view, shapes how you live your life more than anything else. It’s there in how highly you value honesty, how you develop a sense of self-respect and how much you think of the way your actions affect others. We used to rely on many things to set our moral compass - church, school, family - and it’s encouraging to see it’s still a valued lesson.

Not that these youngsters need much coaching - they’re all positively angelic and so they should be. But like all moral teaching it’s not just about the specific scenario. It’s about priming youngsters to think morally when they come across any situation which presents different courses of action. Morals are key to humanity and society. Losing sight of them through greed, selfishness or even plain ambivalence, is invariably at the root of most of the things which go wrong.

It’s a lesson every bit as applicable to deciding whether or not to share your advent chocolate, leave a note on an car you’ve dinged or choose the next Prime Minister. This church holds a prayer vigil on the eve of Thursday’s election. I get the feeling we’ll be praying for where the whole thing leaves us as a country rather than any particular result. 


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