Boundaries and parish



The Graveyard as a sign of community

Saint Mark's New Lakenham, Norwich [Link]

© Godric Godricson



Oh dear! The idea of boundaries and parish have come to mind as I visit parishes. Boundaries are fascinating although not always helpful in forming a community of the living or for the departed. People can be geographically ruled into communities and they can be ruled out of communities. Inclusion and exclusion are the words to be used in this debate. We have a lot of sociological material available as analytical tools and the work of social anthropologists is always helpful in looking at groups and ‘norming, forming and storming’ or whatever the phrase.

Churches, parishes and graveyards are not always easy to categorise when it comes to an explanation of how they actually are, how they came to be or how they are perceived. I use as an example a [nameless] Roman Catholic parish that I knew as a young person. It was always  a strange mix of local pride in itself and a long and colourful history; Polish/Czech/Hungarian Post-War immigration and the problems of having a priest who was himself a convert to the faith from a Reformed tradition. Throw in an occasional Latin Mass and a scandal or two and the Parish was often dysfunctional although on the surface it seemed to work in perfect harmony. The graveyard was a poor little thing crammed in against the walls and without care and attention.

Membership of the parish and the graveyard should have been wonderfully  multi-cultural although it wasn’t because the Czechs, Poles and Hungarians who had settled circa 1940’s to 1953 (ish) had assimilated (although not totally) and they wanted to retain some solidarity with each other and separateness to  others. English parishioners retained a romantic idea of being the descendants of rosy cheeked English men although it was clear from the surnames in the graveyard  that they were more likely to descend from Irish immigrants circa 1840’s onwards. The priest’s own history made him more right wing, punitive and reactionary as he tried to prove his devotion to the Church he had joined.




Gan Falaris Décédé 1915

Buried - Kalkara, Malta [Link]

© Godric Godricson

 

In effect, the parish had what are sociologically referred to as deep  ‘social cleavages’. The effect of such division was that whilst the descendants of the central Europeans played together quite happily at the same school with their ‘English’ counterparts; they sat separately at Church and the apparently English boys were implausibly sometimes called “Sean”, “Francis Xavier” and even  “Eoin”. Confusing! Well it was when the children from the traveller community started to attend the same school sometime in the mid 1970’s and brought in the minority use of the Irish language just as the bombings on mainland Britain made Irish people the source of suspicion. The Scottish families  whose fathers came to work nearby gave a slightly different and industrial mix to the parish. A friend at school had a father from Quebec and that brought even more spice to the mix.

The English in the local community could often not tell Scots and Irish apart based on accent and mannerism and so there was always a sort of ‘white racism’ being played out as local people tried to separate out the  ‘Gastarbeiter’ Scots who were really “One of us!” and the Irish/Travellers where there was a perception of mistrust and even fear.



Ettore Barbara
Buried - Kalkara, Malta [Link]

© Godric Godricson



In a manner of speaking; membership of the parish was less based  on nationality, class, social origins or income and more about religious allegiance as this was a common point which to share. Less about Englishness and class and more about religious and cultural association and a willingness to be seen as “Catholic”. Good standing was through overt obedience to the Pope. As long as this was the case then membership was achieved and maintained. The problem came when the Church hierarchy started to actively (deliberately?) loose adherents as it started to preach about the 3 great moral sins for the Church - homosexuality, divorce and abortion.

The Graveyard became a place where we were all integrated into the communal unity of the living and the dead even if the hierarchy drove people away. The Maltese understand these matters better and the Cemeteries of Addolorata and Ta’Braixa have beauty and practicality combined in equal measure. The Maltese are another overlay in British culture but that’s another story for another day.

Isaiah 26:19



The cemetery
A.K.A "The Parish Church"

© Godric Godricson

 "But your dead will live; their bodies will rise. You who dwell in the dust, wake up and shout for joy. Your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead" Isaiah 26:19

There is something that strikes me when I visit an English Church and that is the proximity of the living and the dead. This proximity brings us back to the idea of Christianity being nothing more than a cult of the dead. In prayer, we cast our eyes upwards and we notice the plaques on the wall extolling the virtues of the departed. We notice the arms and titles of the great landowners and we are reminded that this building is often little more than a charnel house for the  rich and famous.

Indeed, if churchgoers  could develop x-ray vision or a personalised ground penetrating radar we would find the floor of any parish Church as a honeycomb of vaults and tombs fashioned from the 14th Century onwards. The vaults, full of humanity, would stretch as far as the eye can see. In this way we sense both the desire for salvation of past generations alongside their fear that God will seek revenge upon them. Regrettably, this mindset of fear and anxiety is not a modern way to design a building or lay out a cemetery.

The parish Church is a very real series of contradictions. On the surface,  the Church is an apparent place of  serenity and prayer and yet, underneath, there is nothing but death and decay. The line quoted above, drawn from Isaiah, is by 21st century standards a truly creepy statement. The quotation is saying something about the Church as being a 'parking lot' for the dead. The parish Church becomes a place where we are laid down like a fine wine awaiting the time when we rise again and 'pop' like a champagne bottle. The parish Church, rather than being a place of serenity, becomes the loci of a death cult where the living focus on nothing but death and dying. Oh dear, this theology of death seems far removed from the account of the Resurrection containing hope and joy. The cult of death is writ large in our society and the parish Church is the heart of the cult situated in most villages.

I am not convinced that the Church has anything very much to offer to a modernising society and the photograph above is a little charitable to the Church. When I visited the parish the Church had children's toys and games in the main areas. The altar had been moved into the main body of the Church from the east end. The children's toys was a sign that this ancient cult of the dead was striving for a sort of modernity and 'applicability'. However, the Church Authorities had missed the point. Rather than being open, inclusive and modern, the parish Church holds onto the  older ties to death whilst trying to support past errors by appearing 'modern'. The parish Church becomes a whited sepulchre rather than a focus for the community.

I understand the English and their sensibilities. The English easily fall down at the feet of 'tradition' and 'power' before they gently and quietly melt away  away to 'do their own thing'. That the Church has lasted so long in English culture is a testimony to the holding power of this cult of the dead. My greatest hope is that the 'cult of the dead' that passes for a state religion is left behind. Let the parish Church become a creche for the one or two children of the village if that is what the community really wants  although think about this......who would have a Creche in a cemetery?