In search of disorganised religion

29 May 2010

Theo Hobson attends Grace, an alternative Christian service in west London, and finds it arty, irreverent, postmodern — and full of people seeking a new way to worship

At the end Johnny stood up and rattled a tin — so even alternative churches take a collection? No, in the tin were old keys, we were to take one away as a sort of sacramental souvenir. Chatting over a drink afterwards, I learned that the more vicarish man was indeed a vicar. ‘We invite him along when we do a communion service,’ said Steve, a long-standing member of the group. ‘We use a church building, so we feel we should respect the rule that says a layperson can’t do communion.’ Does this mean that their group is essentially Anglican? ‘Not really, but it started when a few friends left the normal Sunday service here and wanted to do something new — and the link hasn’t been broken. But we’re free to do what we want in every other respect.’

I find this a bit odd. If you’re going to do something riskily new, why not go the whole hog? It’s a bit like starting a punk band, but feeling obliged to include your dad on the trumpet. The other arty-alternative Christian groups that I know of follow this pattern. There is a group in Brighton called Beyond that stages Grace-like worship, and also puts on public art — it had the bright idea of turning beach-huts into an advent calendar (a new door opened for every day). There is also a group in Liverpool called Dream that has experimented with outdoor ‘guerrilla’ worship: it staged a flash-mob worship event in a shopping centre last Easter.

A lot of people dismiss this scene as marginal trendiness, a very minor sideshow. I don’t. I think their time might be coming. In the same way as people are crying out for a ‘new’ politics, there’s a definite longing for a new church. The Catholics are mired in paedophile scandals, the Anglican communion has lost its way — perhaps it’s time for Grace instead?

What groups like Grace grasp is that though some people are turned off by organised religion, they still feel basically Christian: what they want is a new, disorganised style of religion, a postmodern shook-up version, full of irreverence and irony, and arty events. They want a new style of sacramentalism, that isn’t steeped in authority. Now that the internet’s here to stay, it’s difficult to accept hierarchy any more — religion must become open-source.

For the moment, the pioneers tread carefully — the stylistic reinvention of an ancient religion is a slow and difficult process, with huge pitfalls — but my hunch is that we should watch this space. God reconfigures his church in mysterious ways.