Clergymen facing an Almighty task

A study commissioned by the Church of England to find ways of getting more people to go to church has concluded that clergymen need to have more customer skills. Such as, for example, making people feel looked after, and not left hanging about after a service. Most people, it says, look forward to going to church about as much as going to hospital.

A study commissioned by the Church of England to find ways of getting more people to go to church has concluded that clergymen need to have more customer skills. Such as, for example, making people feel looked after, and not left hanging about after a service. Most people, it says, look forward to going to church about as much as going to hospital.

Oddly enough, our local vicar has gone the other way, and is building up a congregation based on the best practices of the NHS.

At the parish church of St Luke the Consultant, you arrive at 10.30, which is the time given for the service, and are shown to a seat at the back, where you sit for another 40 minutes before anything else happens. Occasionally, you see the vicar flitting to and fro, attended by white-clad vergers and churchwardens, but if you try to catch his attention you will be told to wait your turn.

There are various magazines lying around, all dating from 1981 and all about missionary work in Africa - but interesting though they are, most of us prefer to spend the time in meditation. I, for instance, like to ponder on what we are doing here, what else we could be doing, and why I don't go and do it right now.

And just when I have decided I shall do something else, even if it is only die of boredom, one of the lay preachers comes to me and says: "Mr Kingston?"

"No," I say. "Mr Kington."

She looks at their charge sheet, puzzled.

"I've got you down as Kingston."

"Well, it's nearly right. My name is Kington."

"And you're in for ... ?"

"Sunday worship."

"Right. We're running a little late at the moment, Mr Kingston, but we should be able to see you very soon."

After another hour or so, the vicar appears and addresses us all together.

"I'm sorry things are a little behind, but in order to save time I'll take you all together - that way we can speed things up a bit. God be with ye."

"And with thy spirit," we intone, in response.

"How are ye feeling?"

"We cannot complain."

"Is there any improvement?"

"Not a lot."

"Have ye been taking the treatment?"

"We have."

"Then let us pray. O Lord, forasmuch as ye gave us perfect health, and we did ruin it with our foolish habits and our self-indulgence, help us to treat our bodies with respect ..."

And so it goes on.

There are hymns, too, of course, subtly reworked to fit in with the ethos of St Luke the Consultant.

One of my favourites is "Onward Christian Patients", and another is their version of "Immortal, Invisible," which goes:

Immortal, Invisible, God only wise.

Let us do everything He doth advise.

Let us not question his slightest request.

God's our consultant. He always knows best.

Many of us stay on for Holy Communion, if we have the time. Before giving us the wine and wafer, the priest likes to ask us how regularly we have been taking it and whether it seems to have been doing us any good, though I am not sure why he asks, as the dose never varies. Recently, however, I changed my mind about Holy Communion, when the priest told us that, for a while, it would be part of a controlled experiment.

"To establish if the Holy Communion experience really works," he said, "we are dividing you into a treatment group and a control group. Half of you will be getting the blood and body of Christ, and half will be getting a placebo consisting of unblessed wafer and wine. The object is to see whether those getting the real thing become better people than the other lot. I hope you can volunteer to help with this."

Interesting idea, but I really don't have that sort of time.