A WRONGLY planted tree on church premises was rotting a
neighbouring house, and the PCC reluctantly agreed to have it cut
down. But, oh, the paperwork involved! After months of
consultation, inspection from the diocese, the Town Council, the
Christmas Lights Committee, and some bad weather, the tree has yet
to be felled, six months later. We were offered the opportunity to
plant another tree elsewhere, but declined it. We took one look at
the forms and lost the will to live.
This was yet another bit of the bureaucracy that hounds us daily
- the "must-be-in-bys" turning to "should-have-been-in-bys" - and
with which anyone, in any job, is familiar. Every parish spends
hours on bureaucracy. The Christian Church, once at the forefront
of loving care, is now at the forefront of . . . paperwork. Jesus
must be thrilled.
We are not alone. Bureaucracy is rife in every organisation, and
is responsible for stifling creativity and energy. In the working
world, people of faith can either do the paperwork, while admitting
that "the days are evil" (Ephesians 5.16), or simply refuse to fill
in irrelevant forms. (One friend's sudden change of manager
required duplicate form-filling, which sucked up time with his
clients; so he refused. This led to disciplinary measures. Three
months later, when the new boss left, the whole room full of extra
paperwork was shredded.) We may even feel driven to withdraw from
beloved voluntary groups, or retire early from work, and take up a
hobby instead. Thus, both the workforce and the voluntary groups
lose valuable skills and experience.
OF COURSE, the Church is not allowed to escape. At one meeting,
our PCC had a particularly heated discussion over a mandatory
policy that we saw as being antithetical to Christ's instruction to
forgive. Our Vicar asked whether we would be prepared to resign at
the next annual meeting because of it.
There was a long silence. Then one member said: "It's cheaper
than a hair shirt." It was not an overstatement to compare our
paperwork to this medieval form of self-imposed penance, and the
rest of us agreed: it was just as irritating; just as itchy. And it
scratched at the meaning of our faith. Despite that, no one chose
resignation as a means of escape.
CHRIST humbled himself. We humble ourselves to the point of
draining a creative brain into grey, zombie-like drivel, as we
dutifully fill in forms that imply that we cannot talk to children,
transport adults with learning difficulties, assess risk, climb a
ladder, handle church funds, or even serve a cup of tea without
evil intent. All the while, we know that any real criminal would
find ways to continue truly nefarious practices undetected.
"Lead us not into temptation." We ask forgiveness as the mind
reels with imagined sarcastic replies to a statistics survey that
demands an-swers to questions that we never dreamed were germane to
being the people of God.
So why don't we give up, as so many excellent teachers,
librarians, nurses, and social workers are doing? After all, being
a member of a church committee is a voluntary job.
Perhaps it has something to do with keeping the church there. We
do the paperwork, not only for the smattering of penniless Sunday
worshippers, who are the community's powerhouse of prayer. We are
also there for the market stall-holders who need a lavatory, and a
cup of tea; for the baptism, wedding-, and funeral-requesters; the
whim-worshippers; those who take, and give nothing in return; the
pre-schoolers who run around the sanctuary as if they owned the
place (they do); the stranger who wanders in midweek to lay his
hands on the church walls because "they are soaked with prayer";
the man who stumbles in during coffee time and bursts into tears at
the suicide of a relative; the person who is "not religious", but
checks the community prayer book each week; the little girl with
nightmares; the fervent prayer of someone who just wants her
dad.
We do the paperwork so that others can think on whatever is
true, lovely, of good report - the things that are God's - and
share their faith in the community. We do the paperwork so that
Jesus is there, among those who suffer and those who celebrate.
But, while we're doing this, something beautiful happens. It is
the wonder of God, who can draw together such a wildly disparate
group as the members of our church council, and nurture us as we
pray, wrangle, and work together - needing each other's skills,
while our arrogance gets knocked down, and our confidence gets
notched up; through the roadblocks we face, or the gaspingly
impossible miracle of meeting our parish share. And, as we
ourselves are changed, we keep the common vision of our church,
open for the community and for the world.
SO, DESPITE the infuriating, energy-draining, time-guzzling,
Caesar-rendering, faith-skewing bureaucracy, we volunteers keep
going - not in order to proclaim the gospel, but to show that the
Church is at the forefront of "good practice". Could this be
love?
Judith Robinson worships at St Michael and All Angels,
Shefford, in the diocese of St Albans.