Church Authentic?

He opened the letter, somewhat gingerly, and unfolded the pristine paper. Gazing at the hand-written text, so unusual and almost unfamiliar in the digital age, he knew already that this would be a letter from a concerned Christian. 

The words were well meant, as ever they were from the person in question, but they did nothing more than alienate him further. These Christians just did not understand the reasons why he couldn’t cross that threshold right now.

It was enough to even enter the so-called “place of worship” without feeling instantly rejected, let alone to contemplate doing as he was being asked in the letter: to preach again.

Enough, he decided, I simply cannot face the lie any more.

Authenticity

Back in February 2011 I wrote the post, “10 Reasons I Hate Church“. After many weeks of being completely unable to draw the inspiration to write about anything else, it’s time to revisit the theme: authenticity.

Authenticity: noun the quality of being authentic;  genuineness.

Authentic: adjective

1. not false or copied; genuine; real.

2. having the origin supported by unquestionable evidence; authenticated; verified.

3. entitled to acceptance or belief because of agreement with known facts or experience; reliable; trustworthy.

(Source: Dictionary.com; abridged)

Philosophers add to these definitions with the idea that “authenticity is the degree to which one is true to one’s own personality, spirit, or character, despite external pressures” (Wikipedia).

Both the philosophical and dictionary definitions were at the root of my discomfort within the Christian Church over the past few years. It’s not a new problem but it is certainly one which has become more acute as time has passed: why doesn’t the experience of Christian worship and community live up to the claims of the faith’s adherents?

To be fair, the problem is rather more of a Western European one than a global issue. As I have been discovering, the challenges to my vision of church that have been generated by experience in Britain are not the whole picture… but let’s not leap to the end of the story before we’ve much more than started.

A Story Of The East

About two years ago, as part of the course I was taking at the time, I was invited to visit an Orthodox Church. Meeting the priest, of whom a more gentle human being I have yet to meet, and listening to his explanation of the general fixtures within the temple inside, I was moved towards wanting to learn more. I can expressly remember a sense of arrival at some significant place, although I was hard-pressed to explain what that might mean.

What was it that I sensed in that building? Certainly it was strange and unfamiliar, engendering a slight discomfort and nervousness about doing the wrong thing. Moreover, however, it felt remarkably safe.

At a physical level the place was old and musty (being a converted older building pressed into new use), filled with wondrous images and artifacts. There was the scent of the incense, the taste of the blessed bread, and the soft-toned voice of Father Philip. All was comforting and welcoming.

Yet it was more than this. There was something distinctly different and “other” about this experience. It was authentic, ancient and time-worn with it’s own personality, spirit, and character… despite external pressures to change.

Contrast From Experience

When I first came to believe in Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God, I was eighteen. All was new and the Christians I knew at university, all of them from a variety of Protestant traditions, were the only other believers that I had access to at the time.

In good faith I began to attend the local Baptist church, a wonderfully friendly and tight-knit community of Christians living in the valleys of south Wales. I was baptised by full immersion (lead-lined pool with water that “you should try not to swallow”) and began a walk of faith that has continued until today.

Ever since completing my studies at university, back all those years ago, I have been hard pressed to find the same brand of authentic Christian worship elsewhere.

In America, visiting two churches, I encountered the health-and-wealth “you’ve gotta have faith” brand of what I now term “Prosperity” religion. In short, if you don’t have enough cash it’s because you haven’t “claimed” it from Jesus, and you didn’t emanate enough faith… as though faith were a trading commodity.

In the UK I have spent time in Baptist, Methodist, Church of England, Presbyterian and one or two other Protestant congregations. Everywhere I have seen the same general pattern: a tight-knit inner circle of families who have supported the church for years who are suspicious of visitors. Although friendly, these congregations do not seek to welcome any form of outsider… so woe betide the newbie who asks a question about what goes on. Worship is dry, focused on listening instead of doing, and you are discouraged from asking too many questions.

In each case, what I have found conforms to the complaints I voiced back in 2011. I am always left asking, “Where is the authentic Church of Christ?”

Back To Orthodoxy?

In recent weeks, responding to the prompting of my own heart and conscience, I have been revisiting the Orthodox Church.

Three weeks ago I made the pilgrimage of 70 miles to visit Lincoln, to see the church where I first met Father Philip. Joining them for Divine Liturgy, and gently welcomed and given some guidance as to where best to sit and what to do, I was amazed at the spirit of the worship I experienced.

Although I’m not Orthodox (i.e. not baptised by the Orthodox Church), and so not permitted to receive the Eucharist, I was nonetheless made to feel very much a part of the experience. As a Protestant, and dutifully educated against such “Popery”, I was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of signing myself with the cross… but I was immediately impressed by the authenticity of the worship. Liturgy, once perceived by me as a restrictive practice, was revealed to be a glorious enactment of historic ritual… and it touched my heart as no Protestant worship service ever had.

For the past two weeks I have been attending worship at the Orthodox Church in my own city, an admittedly easier drive. The impression of authenticity has remained. The sense of “homecoming” and of deep spiritual satisfaction, in spite of my nervousness and natural shyness, has been palpable.

And that’s a good point: I am naturally shy. Most people who know me don’t realise this… because my public persona, almost by dint of my profession, doesn’t allow me to be 100% authentic. Yet, standing in worship before the icon of Christ and joining in the prayers of these Christians around me, I find myself unable to be anything but who I truly am in that place. Shyness is who I really am when faced with the grandeur of God. How could I be anything other?

Where Am I Getting To?

In honesty, I am not entirely sure. My story is one that is intended simply to share the latest chapter in my journey in the vain hope that, just perhaps, it’ll inspire one other person not to give up on their spiritual life.

The Christian Church in the West, like so many institutions, is deeply flawed. In the case of Christianity, however, the root of the problem might be that it is simply the modern version of something which, unwittingly, got lost along the way.

Historically the Western Church isolated itself from the East, choosing to elevate the Bishop of Rome to the place of highest authority on Earth. The Reformation, beginning in 1517, sought to reform the corruption of the Western Church and set off a long parade of debate, change and factionalism which has led us to the present situation. All along the way, however, the West forgot about the East… and lost touch with the almost-unchanging face of Orthodoxy.

Perhaps, by touching that treasure from the East, I have begun to rediscover what it truly means to be Church. It’s equally possible that I am simply deluding myself. At the root, however, lies this one question of authenticity.

So, gentle reader, is your spiritual walk an authentic one? Do you live each day “true to one’s own personality, spirit, or character, despite external pressures”? Are you genuine, real, not copied and true-to-the-original?

Take a trip back to the roots of your own faith and ask yourself honestly: “Am I authentic?”

I certainly hope you will be.