This weekend has seen the threat of coronavirus spreading even further, bringing with it not only the prospect of further deaths - I believe the national figure stands at just two as I write - but a whole wave of rumour, concern, reaction, overreaction and more rumour. Who knows where we’ll be in a week’s time, let alone a bit further down the line.
At times of concern like this people turn to their faith. Maybe not in the form of thousands of new converts streaming into churches in the hope of deliverance, but certainly in the form of those who already go placing their trust not in the politicians and the scientists but in the Almighty.
Last week the Church of England moved to advise clergy to avoid actual contact during services and to urge its congregation to shelve the traditional handshakes just for the present. Today the hands are very much in evidence - held aloft, clapping to the rhythm and rattling the living daylights out of more tambourines than I’ve ever seen in one place.
The Holy Ghost Zone in Hillfields is part of the Redeemed Christian Church of God. It’s based in a fine-looking red brick building right in the heart of this highly diverse part of the city. There’s a branch of the church in Leamington too but it was firmly shuttered-up when I attempted to go there. This one, though, is very much open.
It’s an early start for those who fancy joining in the pre-service Sunday School. This runs out to be not a colouring book session for the under fives but a detailed discussion on a topic led by a very convincing teacher. Today’s subject is, with one eye on International Women’s Day, the subject of why some people find it difficult to meet the right marriage partner. I’m not entirely sure ALL the women I know would see that as the ideal subject but, via a few verses from the Gospel and some decent audience contributions, a lively discussion ensued on what we as men and women could do to reduce the delay preventing us from fulfilling God’s wish that we all find some sort of wedded bliss.
The Sunday School gives way to the service itself and - as seems to be the case in quite a few churches now - we’re in the hands of the band to get things going.
Very decent musicians and an undeniably confident singer lead the way through the best part of an hour of extended songs with very limited lyrics but gutsy, soaring choruses and the chance to belt out some noise. This is where the tambourines come into play - not only and percussive accompaniment to the music, but as a kind of accentuation to spoken prayer. Only those with fully-charged hearing aids will know the shattering effect on the eardrums of a dozen out-of-control hand percussionists. It’s unbearable, so I retreat to the back of this large space for the remainder of my time.
The effect on everyone else though is clearly profound. There’s something refreshingly unashamed about the way worshippers at churches like this connect with each other and with God - totally immersed in the moment and, in some cases, literally floored by the power of what’s going on.
The prayers are not that dissimilar to the music in many ways. There’s a repetitive rhythm and an invocation to join in and shout out. It’s uplifting, cathartic and leaves those who lose themselves in it visibly invigorated. It’s also - dare I say it with the shadow of the virus creeping ever closer - highly infectious.
In the recent days I’ve heard a lot from the politicians and the science and medical community about ways of at least delaying the spread of coronavirus; we must wash our hands while singing Happy Birthday, disinfect door handles and catch our sneezes the instant they threaten to emerge. I’ve not heard anyone talk about combatting the deadly threat simply through the power of prayer but, it that were remotely possible, I’d put my money on the Holy Ghost Zone leading the crusade.
