Cathedral Clubbing
Quick take on the return of the Anglican repressed
The classic line for people who enjoy burning the candle at both ends is “My body’s not a temple, it’s a nightclub.” To which the Anglican response seems to be: our temple is also a nightclub.
Well, a dayclub. Fresh from last year’s “silent disco” in Salisbury Cathedral (there’s another one of those this summer too), Bristol Cathedral is offering a “Ultimate 30+ Clubbing Experience” in June, in conjunction with a vodka brand. Partygoers will be able to enjoy classic records from the 80s, 90s, and 00s in a “stunning cathedral venue” while dancing and, presumably, swigging vodka.
For those who still hold to the quaint notion that churches are sacred spaces and should be treated with reverence, this may seem jarring. But I wonder if we could interpret it less as outright blasphemous than an effort, however wrongheaded, at bringing the “vibe” back. For it’s not a coincidence that the Bristol disco is offering music from the 80s, 90s, and 00s. The target audience is clearly people my age: Gen X, or as I prefer to think of us, late boomers, a group that continued the boomer tradition of smashing idols but without any of the boomer optimism about what would result.
What did, in fact, result was a nihilistic culture of negation and hedonism: “lad culture”, New Atheism, and raving. As an ex-raver I speak from experience when I tell you rave always had a deliberate energy of techno-transcendence. Everyone dances alone, but unified and jolted out of self-consciousness by the overwhelming music (and perhaps chemical assistance). The effect is a kind of communion. Club culture veterans will often speak of the sense of love, peace, and spirituality they experienced in that environment.
From a churchgoing perspective this might seem very wrong-headed. But a more charitable read is that it speaks to how the deepest human needs have a way of re-emerging, even within cultures that have poured all their energy into repudiating them. Even the generation that invented New Atheism also, sort of, re-invented charismatic praise and worship, just without the Jesus bit.
So perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise that notwithstanding all the chatter about Catholic and Orthodox revival, the strongest signs of Christian growth aren’t in the liturgical denominations at all, but in charismatic ones. One of the fastest-growing churches in the UK, according to recent reports, is Elim Pentecostal Church. I have no clue whether, theologically speaking, this group believes in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist (maybe someone can help in the comments?) but it’s clear enough from their website and video output that their services have plenty of cathedral-disco energy. From Halloween “light parties” for kids, to worship music complete with smoke machines and high-tech lighting, Elim’s swelling congregations attest that for people who want to vibe, there’s something potent and appealing here.
Importantly, Elim have managed to embrace rave energy without letting go of the God bit. Charismatic praise and worship isn’t my thing, but clearly lots of people like it. And it strikes me that Anglican cathedral raves and silent discos represent a kind of spasmodic acknowledgement of this: a sort of return of the repressed. Are the people who OK’d these events trying to lure my nihilistic, hedonistic, often spiritually very lost generation back onto holy ground? If so, I wonder if instead of giving sacred spaces such as the cathedrals in Salisbury and Bristol over to secular discos, it wouldn’t be better to invite the charismatics in, smoke machines and glitterballs and amplifiers and all?
Against this, some might retort that it’s futile to try and make Christianity cool, and in fact this is a feature, not a bug: we should all be cringemaxxing. Objectors might further demur that rave Anglicanism was tried back in the 80s and 90s, with the Nine O’Clock Service, only for it to turn into a cult with sex abuse scandals. But again: plenty of charismatic churches seem to have found a compromise space that’s neither rave nor cult, and which is bringing people back into church communities. Against this, museum Anglicanism plus secular raves feels like a cop-out. The repressed always returns, somewhere, somehow - whether it’s invited into our cathedral spaces or not.
Glitterballs and Jesus: what do you think? Is rave Anglicanism guaranteed to go wrong? Should we keep a lid on anything too Dionysian? Throw your brickbats at me in the comments:
I am very torn about this piece. I don't like the idea of a vodka-sponsored rave in a cathedral, yet as the vicar of a grade-1 listed church I am all too aware of the amount of money you have to raise to keep the show on the road. In our case it's £2500 a week. For a cathedral it will be much more. I don't think it's right to discuss this as if it were an act of worship because it's clearly a way of paying the bills. Having said that I wouldn't want it in my own church, even if fixed pews allowed it.
I also think that the distinction between charismatic and formal worship is to some extent a false one, perhaps akin to the (in my view) false dichotomy between introverted and extroverted personality types. The Holy Spirit is active in any worship that is whole-hearted, reverent, Christ-centred and involving body and soul. The person sitting with unbidden tears in the back pew, or with unexpectedly lifted heart as they sing a hymn, or who murmurs 'thank you' as they receive the sacrament -- those are charismatic experiences just as much as speaking in tongues or raising your arms in worship.
It's hard to get away from the 'if everyone in the church did the thing I like, everyone else would come to church' fallacy. For myself, I have to hope that reverent worship, care with and commitment to the sacraments, serious preaching and determination to grow in devotion and holiness will be enough, and that God will do the rest.
That has made me think. I went to Canterbury for Eucharist on Sunday and was so appalled at the HR-speak sermon that I very nearly got up in my pew and said something in protest. Canterbury did a disco thing too last year. I hated the whole idea. Durham had something similar going on last weekend. But you are right. Religion serves many purposes. I went to an Elim "get to know you" event. Loads of young women. All stressed that it was the social side that had brought them into the church. The comfort and solidarity of a crowd of fellow believers. None of them had heard of Maundy Thursday or the Stations of the Cross. We all need and take different things from faith. I want awe, majesty, a connection to the spiritual history of this country, not a coffee morning and some hippy dippy singing. But religion is a vast and complex thing that involves individual conscience, making sense of the infinity of the universe, building and sustaining community on earth, giving a society some moral coherence, keeping alive a cultural identity and much much more. if the Pentecostals can bring more people to God, good luck to them. I'll stick with the bells and smells and Latin chants and all the young fogey boys who are filling up Great St Barts.