St George in the East, Cannon Street Road, 21.08.11

This week I went back to the beginning, back to the moment of inspiration, back to the feeling before I made up reasons to begin my blog. So what led me to embark on the decision to give up my Sunday morning lay in and spend time with good Christian folk? The inspiration was predictably the east end churches of Nicholas Hawksmoor and particularly his church St George in The East. I am not proud of my unoriginal choice of architectural muse but Hawksmoor and St George in The East opened a love in my heart for architecture. Walking through the large doors in the spring of 2009 I did not realise it would lead me to an interest in theology, local community and east end migration and that these themes would become tenants of my very own blog.  On my first visit I was too busy falling in love with the time shifting architecture. I should also celebrate the work of Arthur Bailey as well as Nicholas Hawksmoor, as it was Bailey who was the architect who rebuilt the inside of the church in 1964 after the nave had been destroyed during The Blitz in 1941. The reason I attribute so much importance to Bailey is I first became enchanted with the building when I stepped into the nave and had the idea that I had been transported from a building built in 1729 to 1964 in the spring of 2009. The concept that architecture and particularly London architecture could create a sense of time travel got me to read the works of Ian Sinclair, Peter Ackroyd and Will Self but this was merely my blog’s inception. Eventually I became more interested in the congregations I met, my lack of faith and the morality of the weekly sermons than writing a piece on church architecture, yet despite these new interests my love for St George in the East has grown and developed like the building’s history.

Oddly my mum and aunt have unearthed some ancient family history in the last year that binds me to the original congregations of St George in The East.  My 5^th great grandfather Alexander Ray was baptized in the church in 1744 and later baptized his daughter Susannah in 1768, who later married Thomas Walker in the church in 1800 and then subsequently christened their son Thomas Dixon Walker in 1802 on the same grounds. My distant relatives were mariners of Stepney and Wapping which back then would have been the busy regional dockland entrance to London in comparison to the present densely populated urban landscape which houses rich bankers and poor Bangladeshi migrants.  I do sometimes find ancestry a nauseating self-indulgence but knowing that my relatives and I shared a love for the same building makes the time travel feel more real and unattainable. Unattainable, as my love for the 1964 nave is not the same building in which my relatives were married and christened. I guess time attempts to erode everything and that is why unearthing family history becomes so magical. My personal history with St George in the East is not unique but merely another example of how the building has changed with its congregation. Many writers have commented that Hawksmoor’s large looming churches in the east end were built with the intention to instil authority over the new migrant underclass (some my relatives were Huguenots) but another reoccurring facet of Hawksmoor’s architecture is its diverse Baroque style, which celebrates different forms of worship throughout the ages.

St George in the East’s history is unbelievably vast and the church’s website is like an online library dedicated to a single building. In comparison to other Hawksmoor church’s websites, the flash graphic design of Christ Church at Spitalfields website or the user friendly format of St Anne's, St George's is more interested in historical substance than online style. The website is a sprawling labyrinth of information and a testament of love to the church’s history. A catalogue of links feature information on the changing developments of the parish parameters through the ages, Hawksmoor’s original construction of the rectory and his unrealized plans to create a “primitive Christian settlement,” a historical account of the ritualism riots of 1859-60, a brief history of “St George in Ruins,” a prefab church built in 1943 situated in the ruins after The Blitz and a complete chronology of the architectural developments of the interior, the exterior, the tower, the crypt and the surrounding garden. The overwhelming amount of information indicates the unbelievable changes the church has gone through long before The Blitz. The website correctly attacks guide books that claim you only need to appreciate Hawksmoor’s exterior and not the Bailey interior. I would support the argument and claim that the modifications made to the building before and after The Blitz actually reflects Hawksmoor’s original architectural intention. Hawksmoor was striving for a new primitive form of church that combined many past spiritual architectural designs; you can see Roman, Greek, Egyptian and Gothic influence in the architecture of St George's; the most obvious example being St George’s “ pepper pot” tower decorated with six Roman circular sacrificial altars . St George’s overall style with its use of arches and columns is also reminiscent of a Jewish Temple (see picture).  In short Hawksmoor was forever interested in combining different forms of architectural worship from the ages and St George's unlike the restored Christ Church and St Anne’s has adapted and changed throughout the ages. Luckily for me the adaptations of Christian life and worship were the subject matter for this week’s sermon.

The visiting Reverend was Dr Fiona Stewart-Darling whose sermon focused on the book of Romans and used later passages of the book to outline the unique adaptability of Christianity. Stewart-Darling indicated how Christianity unlike other religions such as Islam and Judaism does not adhere  to strict laws and rules to display ones faith but instead bases its faith on the transformative love of Christ. Key passages in Romans support this notion, Romans 13:10 "love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love is the fulfilling of law." Unintentionally her sermon’s pleas for pluralism and acceptance within Christianity can be found in the church’s diverse architecture.  The large rear glass wall allowed light to flood into the 1960s nave and brighten the white and yellow walls but the same light had passed though the grand baroque exterior, two eras of Christianity living as one. It is ironic that before the later section of the book Roman’s which calls for the transformative love of Jesus the earlier passages have been interpreted as homophobic and Zionist. Talking to Reverend Stewart Darling after the service she was quick to point out and unprovoked that the homophobic and misogynist aspects found in the King James Bible had now been correctly removed in the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible. Reverend Stewart Darling was passionately liberal and inspiring in our brief chat. She outlined how aspects of Christianity seem old fashioned and conservative but was merely the example of the gospel being corrupted by its time and circumstance. A good modern example of misguided religious education was that she supported Church schools but not Faith schools as she believed in religious choice not dogma. I agreed with everything that came out of her mouth but I felt that the certain negative aspects of religion should not be forgotten or edited out because one should recognize the other despite its differences. My reasoning was once again entirely influenced by the surrounding architecture.

St George's embraces so many eras of Christianity yet seems entirely current due to the very fact it’s a product of many times. Unlike the historical fully restored churches you do not feel transported back to a specific era but instead on a constant journey through time, a journey that is the present because it is so clearly formed by many pasts. I don’t want a definitive God, I don’t want the correct reading of the gospel, I don’t want a fully restored building I want the journey without the destination. The power of St George's is it makes you constantly think due to its astounding history, a history so vast  that when you return you never come to the same conclusion. I always find myself caught in contemplation still changing my perception of what a church can actually be. The power does not merely come from the preservation of the land since 1729 from but from the land and building's ability to change and adapt to think outside one time.

Hampden Chapel (Assemblies of God), Lauriston Road, 17.09.11

Last week Hackney fell from grace due to the London riots, Hackney was quickly rebranded from being the celebrated official Olympic borough to being declared an “unofficial war zone” (to quote the right wing zealots of Sky news). Similarly I fell from grace in that I was on holiday last Sunday and had to pay my penance by attending a midweek prayer meeting with a bunch of  Pentecostalists in Hampden Chapel. Neither events are worthy of a comparison to Adam and Eve’s fall from grace but the word grace is the subject for this week’s post. An elder from Thursday’s prayer meeting informed me that the word grace appears 170 times in the Bible but after researching I discovered that the notion of grace is one of the most divisive concepts within Christianity. All Christians agree that grace is a spontaneous divine free gift of favour and love which God provides to his followers and it is essential in the salvation of all sinners, however some believe grace can only be sacramental (Catholics) whilst others claim grace is universal (most Protestants), then we have groups who believe grace is predetermined (Calvinists) in contrast to Christians who feel its earned (Baptists). Personally I see grace as a feeling of love and favour and Hackney has definitely lost a lot of love and favour with the rest of England in the last week. Unlike decent council housing, social mobility, employment and a fully integrated community, grace is only dependent on one’s relationship with God and hence is not worth the comparison. If grace is entirely based on a believer’s relationship with God it limits the experience of love and favour to the individual yet I weekly visit church communities who generate a sense of love and favour amongst each other. In light of the recent events, I saw Hampden Chapel’s history as a testament that grace is obtained though the creation of a community of worship.

Hampden chapel was built in 1847 and has a large mansion like entrance so common in Victorian public buildings. Originally built by the Baptist church under the leadership of Reverend John Hillman a pupil of the “prince of preachers,” C.H. Spurgeon (one of the most influential members of the Baptist movement of the 1800s) it was later sold to the Pentecostal Church in 1927. In contrast to the grand structure and magisterial entrance the nave was alarmingly modest with only a light brick crucifix marked on the back brown brick wall being the noticeable decoration. Hymns were sung from an overhead projector and the microphones used for hymns, prayer and testimonies had an old fashioned hum from a crackling amp that filled the half empty room. The church may have started life as a lavish building but the current congregation (predominantly elderly) had a far less materialistic view of Christianity. The congregation had not fallen from grace but had realised that all they need is a bible, some hymns and each other to worship the “lawd.” The contrast to a change in attitude toward material wealth was also documented in old photos depicting a brief history of the church. Currently the church feeds the homeless on Saturdays and Sundays but in photographs from the 1940s you can see a very smartly dressed congregation posing with a portable gramophone player decorated with the inscription “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin.” I am sure a tramp would appreciate a hot meal over the sound of a crackling choral piece on vinyl, yet ironically I am sure we had more homeless in post blitz London than we do now. The longevity and history of Hampden Chapel helped put the “unprecedented riots,” (another Sky news lie) into perspective and led to the appreciation of the durable nature of religion.

 Arriving to at a midweek prayer meeting I was vigorously interrogated by my hosts which made me feel at first unwanted but later more appreciated. The church, currently without a pastor, was reliant on its elders to run the service. The main reading was led by the extremely wise looking Vanessa whose reading focused on the subject of grace. Vanessa had a sophisticated quality to her bible readings, a light Caribbean accent that spoke the Queen’s English with exceptional poise and clear articulation, you could have closed your eyes and felt you had been transported to an elocution lesson from Victorian England. Not only could age and maturity be heard in her voice but unfaltering faith that made every word seem so important. It was to her credit that her religious rambling which took a variety of quotes that mentioned grace from the Books of Timothy, Thessalonians, Titus, Corinthians yet never appeared unfocused. One of my pet hates during sermons (more often by evangelists) is the orator’s decision not to focus on a specific chapter but to stitch together a sermon by focusing on one word or theme that recurs throughout the Bible. I object to the need to create a Meta truth and simplify a highly complex book by linking sound bite quotes. My objection to this course of sermon is it mirrors mass culture’s inability to think and consider the nuances of subcultures and its need to reduce everything to a more simplified format so to patronise us into all sharing the same opinion. Despite my lack of love for Vanessa’s format I was transfixed by her reading on the subject of grace.

For Vanessa grace was the immeasurable gift of life that God has given us all and that we only need to accept for it to become a predetermined constant. Essentially her sermon was a plea to accept the life god has given us. Vanessa’s grace only had reward for those who believed and she knew I did not which created a far more interesting dynamic in our conversation in comparison to more regular Sunday conversing. I would see grace in the love and favour I feel from strangers I meet every Sunday but for Vanessa grace can only be given by God in your relationship to God and had nothing to do with anyone else. No one in the congregation that supports you, no minister who spiritually saved you, no family members; grace could only be achieved by you and God. I found this view too individualistic and while I don’t strive to achieve a state of grace like the majority of Christians I feel it’s important not to ignore the communities formed by celebrating God. Ironically, despite Vanessa’s firm belief in an isolationist salvation she was clearly loved and respected by everyone, every member seemed to talk to her, seek her approval, ask her advice, she was the queen of Hampden Chapel.  Even though I did not agree with her I felt a desire to please her and gain her respect but I just fell short of her grace.

The reason I fell short or the reason I wanted her approval was that my main concern this week was to appreciate and be appreciated by the community where I live. The riots have been blown out of proportion and are being hijacked by politicians and media to garner fear for their own means which is destroying any sense of communal self-worth. I did not want to believe you can achieve grace through praying alone because at the moment I really needed to believe in people praying together as a community.

Hackney Methodist Church, Mare Street, 7.08.11

How many ways can you worship God? Each week I discover another Christian community who celebrate Jesus in their own unique and personal way but this week I found a church that conducts three different Methodist services on the same Sunday. What makes these services so different yet belong to the same doctrine? Hackney Methodist Church advertises 10.00AM Morning Worship (Quieter Service), 11.00AM Morning Worship, 2.00PM Zimbabwean service. Sadly my planned Christian marathon did not live up to its masochistic expectations (eventually being reduce to the average one service per church) instead the Sunday was eclipsed by the charismatic personality of Father Sakutombo.

My expectations were quickly quashed when I arrived at 10.00 AM to find the doors closed. Arriving on time and discovering a church is closed is always disconcerting, several times I have panicked and immediately set off to what would be my closest back up church. I used to have a romantic and naive hope that all church doors are forever open but this year I have been continually disappointed to find them closed. Loitering outside closed church doors does make you feel very odd and strangely criminal, like you’re going to commit a spiritual burglary on a faith that should not have been closed off from you.  After panic my next emotion is blame, often directed at myself.  I asked myself is there a Christian holiday that no one has told me about? How ignorant could I be of the Christian calendar? Could the first Sunday of August traditionally represent God’s day off?  A non-Christian holiday for Christians! It would make sense that God would get sick of every holiday being about him. My realistic fears are that I have chosen the day after the congregation were celebrating a late night vigil, or are on their annual visit to Clacton on Sea.  Now my experience has taught me not to panic and expect that the majority of non-Anglican and Catholic services start at least half an hour later than advertised. So I stood around till 10.45 until I learned that the “Quiet Service” was so quiet it did not exist. Luckily I had a backup service at 11.00 (which predictably did not start till 11.30) and would then go on to the Zimbabwean service (the climax to my Sunday).  Disappointingly the Zimbabwean service had to be cancelled due to Father Sakutombo’s other commitments; luckily Father Sakutombo would be taking the regular service. Although I was unable to go to the three planned services, the shared key element besides God, the Holy Bible and the church building was Father Sakutombo.

Father Sakutombo was not the greatest spokesman in the world, he did not give the most clear bible readings, his sermon was at times erratic, almost incomprehensible and you were never sure if he was conducting the service or the service conducting him. Regardless of these superficial and technical faults he was an absolute pleasure to be in the company of and the entire congregation clearly loved him. The loud cackling laugh, the spontaneous singing, the incredibly wide smile and his infectious sense of joy which led to an eccentric sermon was clearly the source of his faults and his success. Born in the Zimbabwe but moving to England in 1970s Father Sakutombo candidly said that his recent success with the  Zimbabwe Methodist community had come with recent migrations due to civil unrest in their homeland back in early 2000 to the present. Father Sakutombo clearly stated that though he and the Zimbabwean members of the congregation were Methodists their service was not separated purely for language purposes but had clear culturally specific rituals that would not be found in the regular Methodist service. Interestingly Father Sakutombo when reading from the Methodist book of worship appeared to be reminding himself and the Zimbabwean contingent (the majority of the congregation) of the standard formula to the Methodist service.

Luckily the Methodist church really prepares its congregation by handing out the Book of Hymn and Pslams , Good News Bible and Methodist Book of Worship. Certain congregation members used the books with noticeably more energy and dedication than your average weekend worshipper. In particular a very sweet faced but linguistically struggling male was still looking for the correct page number to partake in a communally read prayer but when he eventually reached the page he could only shout the final word “Amen.” Not all congregational members struggled with the language barrier and the congregation appeared very culturally mixed. Noticeably a recent female graduate gave a clear Bible reading from the Book of Zephaniah (even priest’s struggle when reading aloud Old Testament passages) and talked of her charitable plans to work in Malawi. Despite the wide variety of personalities within the congregation it was the Zimbabwean contingent that dominated my attention and particularly the ladies fashion.  Three rows of ladies dressed in white cotton dresses and blue head scarfs were off set on the other side of the nave by a smaller group also dressed in white dresses but with satin white cloth hats. I wanted to know the reason behind the different uniforms but my English reserve held me back. I presume the separation was of family or maybe of certain regional differences but could not be sure. Both these female groups appeared to struggle with some hymns yet when the collection plate was passed both groups spontaneously began to sing an old traditional tribal song and the room came to life with dancing and music. Hackney Methodist Church’s culture clash within the service provided some of the most sweetly surreal church moments of my agnostic pilgrimage.

The ying to Father Sakutombo’s loud and joyful yang was the quietest congregational member, an American pianist who I never learnt the name of.  Without the piano she would have been invisible, only noticeable for her silence. Yet the piano made her personality fill the room. The use of the piano in a service provided great novelty and classical tone to the old Methodist hymns which were predominantly written in the 1800s for an organ. The strangest moment came during the communion in which the music partnered with Sakutombo’s strong, sharp east African accent created a mismatch of  Christian cultures. The communion transformed the fairly nondescript room into a magical shared space that reflected the Christian cultural lineage from the original evangelical Methodist hymns of the 19 century England to the present globalised multicultural urban Christian existence.

There seems to be no end to how many different ways you can worship God and I should never worry that people may run out of original ideas to celebrate God.  What’s more important than different forms of worship existing is that they also co-exist and may even create new forms of Christian worship together. Father Sakutombo’s ability to bring the congregation together led to one of the most unexpectedly rewarding services. A service that made you feel happy for the variously conflicted ways people worship God and the culture it creates.

PS

Apologies for the late post but I have been away this weekend on my holiday and was unable to access the internet. It has not been easy to go to church mid-week due to the recent riots but hoping to have a post ready for this Sunday. Thanks for all the calls, emails and texts concerned with my wellbeing but personally I feel the riots in Hackney have been totally sensationalised. According to Sky News I have been “living in a war zone,” over the last week which is total rubbish. Week in and week out I highlight how friendly and forthcoming  theresidents of Hackney and Tower Hamlets are and I feel upset that the media, the government and the police are exaggerating the problems within my area. I am not supporting the rioters or claiming that a serious crime has not been caused but the my personal view as a resident of the east end for 9 years is that people are not in fear of each other but in fear of the police. I personally blame the government and the media whose heavy handed approach has empowered the few over the many.

The Bethel Revival Ministry International, 2-4 Crown close, off Hackney Wick, 31.01.11

Church is all about commitment and dedication so I decided to put my agnostic faith to the test in a masochistic act of self-indulgence. This Sunday I awoke at 6.45 in a rural camp site just outside Didcot in Oxfordshire after a heavy night of fun with the knowledge I had to return to my home in East London and get to a service for 12.30. After one car journey, two trains, an underground diversion, a final bus journey and a cycle ride I made my commitment and sat in the foyer of the Bethel Revival Ministry smugly shattered. My body may have been present in the foyer but my mind was very much asleep. Every time I closed my eyes for prayer I was comforted not by the voice of God but by the future promise of sleep. My semi-comatose condition would have been well hidden in a more sedate service of Anglicans and Catholics but instead I was in the presence of an all singing and loud praying joyous bunch of Ghanaian evangelicals. This week’s Christian community must have judged my unenergetic worship as an act of rudeness or worse a symptom of my lighter skin colour. I pride myself on being a very unrestrained Englishman and I did not want to be passively repressed in my participation in the service’s loud singing and dancing, however I did reassure myself that I was justifiably tired because of my travels. Ironically, my tired and over-travelled state was actually surrounded by the friendliest, most forthcoming, energetic and inquisitive congregation I have yet to visit and who had culturally and historically travelled far further than me to worship God in Hackney.

The Bethel Revival Ministry International has a short but rich history, founded in 1974 by a Christian housewife named Sister Alice Newman after she was visited by God, who told her to give up her work as a hairdresser and go preach the gospel. As Sister Alice grew a predominantly Ghanaian congregation the church moved from Stoke Newington to Leyton and finally to their current building in Hackney Wick. The new building has a modern design with modest church attributes of an arched wooden door, three sets of stone arched windows and a gable roof. Lacking the romance of age, the modern building felt well-loved in its smart presentation and slightly odd with its architectural spiritual aspirations. The cost of the newly built church was clearly paid by the celebrity of Alice’s fame as a Christian healer. Visiting and healing people in Holland, Italy, Pakistan, India, Belgium and Germany as well as establishing permanent ministries in Vicenza in Italy, Accra and Kumasi in Ghana and more others around London. Alice was clearly a Christian celebrity appearing on Revelation TV (Christian digital channel) and the writer of three books “God Comes When Everything is Hopeless,” “Your Weapon is Your Prayer,” “Overcome Your Enemies with Prayer,” but Alice was not noticeable by her absence. Despite The Bethel Revival Ministry International being her spiritual home Alice was on a mission back in Ghana, not that I would have realised about her fame had it not been for the highly informative congregation.  To view the creation of the church as one woman’s journey would be wrong and meeting the congregation it was clear that the highly diverse group of Ghanaians had travelled “near and far,” to come and worship in Hackney. “Near and far,” is the staple response I have received from many West African Christians when I ask if the community are local, it’s a sign that they understand that the congregation are not local but they lack the information, interest or English language to explain from where they have come. Three congregational members particularly demonstrated how “near and far,” the church had travelled and informed and guided me through the service.

On entering the lower ground floor foyer of the church I was greeted by James, a smartly dressed and smiling man but very gentle in his manner in comparison to the more extrovert parishioners. Walking in a room of loud spoken prayers can be daunting to someone lacking sleep and energy so I was grateful for James’s thoughtful introduction. James was linguistically neither “near or far” he spoke clearly and definitively in a Ghanaian accent but could not make leading statements and appeared to be restricted to answers rather than questions; or he was being a polite host and I was being a rude inquisitive guest.  Despite a slight language barrier he was desperate for me to understand his speech and punctuated every sentence with his pupils, his eyes constantly staring into my own as we talked as if some non-verbal truth would pass between them.  It was James pointing at the various shrines of Alice’s international philanthropy in the lower foyer that informed me of the churches origins. James was a big Alice fan. James clearly believed the sentiments of the Bible and The Holy Spirit would translate any misunderstanding. As James contributed to the service with a reading and testimony he did shout in praise of God and reminded those that merely attending church does not absolve you of sin (he had just been talking to me after all) but his mild manner did dissolve and his voice and body shook with excitement.  The public religious out pouring was inoffensive with no direct target but the congregation’s own self-evaluation but his change in manner was an indication of how the gentlest of men can achieve a sense of righteousness through religion. Fascinating that the most vocal and lucid of speaking came from when he recited and talked on the Bible as if God gave him the confidence to speak out. In comparison to James’s few words but kind spirited personality was the well-spoken, deep voiced and eloquent Derek.

I did not notice Derek’s arrival until upstairs at the start of the service when he introduced himself. A large man in his 40s, neatly dressed but not suited like most men of the congregation, he wore thin framed glasses that superficially added intellectual gravitas to his smart casual appearance.  Derrick guided me through the redemption hymnal, translated the parts of the service in Twi and explained certain rituals. Not that he had to explain much, the majority of the service was the standard evangelical mix of testimonies and sermon intercut with songs. The most impressive aspect of the service was the singing and the acappella caller response relationship between the pastor and the congregation. The congregation had such a great rapport with their pastor, forming a raw vocal harmony. None of the singing was staged for certain stars (with the exception of the pastor) so the singing had a very inclusive feel in comparison to other evangelical services. The singing, dancing and praying of Derek I took to be far more introverted and a sign of a more English formal manner. Derek waved some arms and praised aloud “thank you Jesus,” but he did it with a far more reserved manner. On my travels I have been grabbed, shook, pointed at to praise the lord by enthusiastic congregational members so I was grateful for this unassuming chaperoning. In comparison to James we hardly made eye contact but we did do a lot more talking. Yet I did not get a good impression on what Derek was like until he translated for me the other congregation member’s testimonies. When translating a lady’s testimony on returning to the UK you could hear a sense of pride in his voice in helping build a connection between me and her. Derek had been visiting the church since 1993 when the church was based in Leyton and during his translation I realised not only his religious dedication but also his dedication to Ghana (his homeland) and his people. Like any good translator he merely relayed the speaker’s words and within the lady’s testimony he and her help summed up my impression of the church.

If Derek was from “near,” then the lady speaking as loud as her green, black and yellow dress was definitely from a “far.” On returning to the UK she wanted to thank the congregation for looking after and supporting her daughter in her absence as she tended other family needs back in Accra. As her voice trembled with emotion in a language I did not understand I could at least sense the gratitude in her face as Derek told me how her other family members missed the congregation back in England. Declaring the church as her family it became clear that church did not only provide a religious identity but a cultural one that helped sustain and support its members in our recently globalised world. I have never been a fan of nationalism but comparing my own pathetic sense of pride at arriving at church after a six hour journey I could understand the national sense of pride built on migration that bound The Bethel Revival International Ministry. The church may have been founded on one woman’s religious revelation and healing abilities but it existed in the many journeys of a wide variety of Ghanaian Brits who had live in London and have travelled from “near and far.”