NO COUNTY has more medieval churches than Norfolk. Earlier this year, I spent a sabbatical walking between more than 200 of them. The glories of Norfolk’s churches are manifold; chief among those glories is that so many of these churches are open each day.
Keeping churches open is not simply about scratching the itch of church-crawlers. There is a theological and missional imperative for keeping churches — rural and urban — open as much as possible.
First, the church building is consecrated as a physical representation of God’s presence with his people. When the church building is open, it invites people to come in. It is a sign of a God who is invitational. When that building is closed, it implies that God is absent. As one Norfolk priest said to me, “If the church is closed, it may as well not be there.”
Second, an open church is an opportunity for mission and evangelism. While there is no substitute for telling people about Jesus, an open building can be part of that process. Most churches teach the Christian faith through their architecture and furnishings. They are repositories of visual aids, telling the story of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
One of the barriers for people coming to church for the first time is an anxiety about what to expect. Walking through the door on a Sunday morning can be a terrifying prospect. So, an open church during the week gives the enquirer, or the potential churchgoer, a chance to familiarise themselves with the space and to discover what the church is like.
THIRD, the building can have a pastoral function. An open church provides a space for the grieving, lonely, lost, or distressed. The act of lighting a candle, or leaving a prayer request, or simply sitting in silence, can be a deeply healing one. It is an opportunity for a form of pastoral ministry which doesn’t require any human intervention.
It is also, fourth, really good for the image of the Church. There may be people who, however wide open the doors are, remain highly unlikely ever to cross its threshold. But their attitude to the Church may be softened by seeing the “Church Open” sign.
Daniel SandhamSt Mary’s, South Walsham, in Norfolk
A building that otherwise may be perceived as a fortress of an unfathomable faith, or a place that holds negative associations, will come across as a place of welcome — even, given the risks inherent of keeping a church open, a place of vulnerability. That speaks powerfully to the person who associates the Church with power or prejudice.
Fifth, keeping churches open is deeply Anglican. The open church is a church that is available to all parishioners: they do not have to profess a faith, or prove their identity, or pay an admission fee. There is a remarkable inclusivity about an open church. This is common ground, where everyone belongs.
THE benefits of an open church are huge. In my suburban north London parish, we opened the church doors during the pandemic and have not stopped. The church feels different. When I go to church for evening prayer each day, I walk into a building that I know, has been used and prayed in. Often, there are visible signs that this is the case: someone is quietly kneeling in a pew, or there are candles lit.
Even when there is no one there, and the votive stand has not been used, there is still an atmosphere of prayer. I think that this would be the case even if no one had darkened the doors all day: the opportunity to pray makes the building pregnant with prayer that has not yet happened. Or maybe the angels have seen the doors open and have seen fit to pray here.
What about the risks? Ecclesiastical Insurance encourages churches to be kept open “because of the positive effect that it can have on security”. An open church that is visited is more secure than a locked church that is not.
This has been proved in my own context. Long before we kept the church open during the week, there was a series of break-ins in churches across the borough. The perpetrator twice broke into our church in the space of a fortnight, smashing low-level stained-glass windows to gain entry. On both occasions, he stole £10 or £20 but caused thousands of pounds’ worth of damage in the process.
Since we have been open during the day, someone has forced their way into the back of the votive-candle stand. A similar amount of money was stolen, but this time the damage was negligible. Crime rates were much higher in my previous parish in Finsbury Park. We kept the church open there, too. The only items that I recall being stolen were a Bible and a rosary. I can cope with that.
This is not to say that there are not risks. Of course there are. But mission without risks is not mission. An open church models the riskiness of the risk-taking God who sends his Son for the salvation of the world.
The Church of England is custodian of thousands of sacred spaces, set apart for life-changing encounters with the God to whose glory they were built and consecrated.
I lingered in the liminal places of Norfolk for three months, where I found rest, refreshment, and renewal. If you are able, follow Norfolk’s example: open the doors, stick a sign outside, and let the people come in.
The Revd Daniel Sandham is the Vicar of St Paul’s, Winchmore Hill, in the diocese of London. He has blogged about his walks around Norfolk’s churches at walkingnorfolkschu.wixsite.com/home