A sermon preached by Revd Barry Hutchinson
at Barnard Castle United Reformed Church, 5 August 2012
A few weeks ago I attended a Quiet Day at Durham Cathedral, in the
company of Anglican brethren and led by an Anglican priest. Because I was reading for this sermon I
happened to ask if anybody knew anything about the Great Ejectment of
1662. Not one of them could recall ever
hearing anything about it, not even the leader/priest who was a very well
educated and well informed man. I am
not a historian – in fact I had forgotten much of what I had learned about
dissent in Britain during my training –the story had then been just another
load of facts to process and if necessary turned into an essay.
But just recently a couple of experiences have led me to appreciate how
much heritage and history can mean to human communities. I come from Bishop Auckland originally but
very early in life we moved to Fishburn where my dad was a pitman. When I was a teenager I couldn’t wait to get
out of the Northeast and so I moved around for many years until eventually
settling down, now that I’m retired, near Durham City having been surprised a
few years ago by a sense of being drawn back home. My wife and I went a few
weeks ago to Durham Big Meeting, the annual Miners Gala – and what a day we
had. There was a huge sense of being
grounded back into my own community, of taking in a new and proper sense of
community pride and of the recovery of community self worth and value in what
we have accomplished, politically and socially and economically in the North
East, often against the odds and perhaps especially during the 1980’s which was
a dark and depressing time on the Durham coalfield. Yet here were people (over 100,000 of them by
all accounts) from mining stock celebrating their heritage, defying the odds in
an area where no coal mines exist anymore.
It was a remarkable day.
The other experience was watching the Olympic Opening Ceremony, which
admittedly began slowly and patchily but ended up by being a huge celebration
of what it means to be British, which is not easily indefinable yet here included the back breaking and sometimes
soul destroying toil of ordinary people as they worked in factories and mills
during the industrial revolution, suffered during times of war, drew strength
from their religion conviction to see them through dark times – and not
forgetting Rowan Atkinson, Mr. Bean, who presented what had to be the funniest
and quirkiest interlude in the history of the modern Olympiad; typically British ironic humour. There was a huge sense of national pride that
British people pulled that ceremony off so well and did something so utterly
different and compelling without being arrogant and proud in the wrong sense of
that word.
So it was a sadness when I came across this piece by Tristram Hunt in
the Guardian in 2006 as I swotted up for
this sermon, around a topic I only tackled because I was asked to:
The
stories, monuments and myths that traditionally linked progressives with their
heroic past have steadily retreated from public consciousness. This amounts to
something akin to a loss of collective memory. And so it should come as no
surprise that we have difficulty rallying any broader, popular enthusiasm for
our political process when we lack an appreciation of our democratic heritage.
Hunt is speaking largely about political
dissent which championed working class causes and struggled for the freedoms of
democracy - but his statement can easily be attached to the history of
religious dissent in our country which at different and many times has been the
catalyst for the search and fight for equality of political
representation, access to education for
all British people, access to health care for all people, and social care for
the vulnerable, the search for which was often grounded in religious dissent. Listen to this paraphrase:
And so it
should come as no surprise that we have difficulty rallying any broader,
popular enthusiasm for our religious process when we ourselves lack an
appreciation of our religious heritage.
The Ejectment of 1662 meant that around 2000
educated clergymen and teachers could not follow their calling and underwent
terrible suffering because their conscience would not let them conform to an
act of parliament which denied some of the fundamental human freedoms which
Christianity sought, and still seeks at its best, to bring to all people. They were added to a band of people who from
Elizabethan times were already worshipping in small groups outside of the
established church, having given up the idea that the Church of England would
ever change. Happily for the dissenters
of 1662 they were supported and encouraged by many of their former parishioners,
some of whom were wealthy professional people, who called them back into clerical service
when that became possible. But even
then, and throughout the 18th C.
they could not be educated at Cambridge and Oxford, the only degree
awarding institutes and until early in the 19th C. dissenters, or independents,
or none conformists, were among those who could not hold military, public or
political office unless they were willing to dissemble and at least appear to
be conforming to the practices of the established church.
To answer the need for good, solid education
dissenters set up Academies of learning, some of which were not quite the thing
but many of which became highly regarded and turned out some of the most
distinguished and highly regarded scholars of their day. Indeed, the academies became centres of
progressive religion, promoting the application of intellectual reason in
religion as well as in the developing and increasingly influential scientific
projects of the age of enlightenment. This reliance upon reason in faith, maybe too much trust was given over to
reason, led in the 18th C. to many Presbyterian congregations becoming Unitarian in belief –
though these particular Presbyterians were largely unconnected to the
Presbyterian Church of England which is now part of our tradition and came into
being in the 19th C.
Congregationalism which, as you know, is
another major precursor of the URC was all the time developing and
strengthening its influence, supported by new Congregational Christian
industrialists and entrepreneurs who were agitating for more democracy and the
right to be represented in the governing of the country. Our forefathers were not ‘squeeky clean’ and
some of them were as oppressive towards their workers as the political and
religious establishment were to them.
But many of them promoted wider education and so Sunday Schools took
root.
Much of this political and social dissent was
underpinned by belief in the freedom that the gospel gave to individuals and to
like minded local groups of Christians to answer the call of God, uninfluenced
by government, and to make decisions which affected people locally at the local
level.
And so the call of God stretched to being
actively involved in the development of society as a fairer and more wholesome
place for all its inhabitants where governments did not oppress the little man
but strove to enable each to reach their full potential. So political and social action have always
been part of the dissenting agenda.
There is so much in our dissenting history
that would make your heart swell with pride as you read it. We’re in a time when our influence continues
to wane and we seem to be increasingly marginalized, not only socially and
politically but also as a faith community which appears to be having much difficulty
finding its place in modern society. We
are in a crisis which seems to me to be every bit as big as the ejectment of
1662 – and crisise need tackling in different ways to the ordinary, run of the
mill ups and downs of a steady community journey. Can you imagine the soul searching and
determination and continuing commitment which must have arisen amongst the
dissenting communities after 1662? It
led, when times changed, to the establishment of new, vigorous congregations of faithful Christians, living
and worshipping in new and different ways, experimenting within the faith to
allow the Spirit to move in them and through them into the world to bless it?
Sometimes this led people astray. More usually it re-invigorated and remodeled
their faith and empowered the people to become who they were meant to
become. And through their dissent other
people came into more human freedom than they had known before.And so we can re-capture our history as a means to encourage ourselves in these less encouraging times. We can explore and adapt our traditions, just as our forefathers have done before us, resting, as the Gospel story points us towards, upon Jesus who is the genesis of our faith and the completer of our faith and guardian of our faith. We can continue to promote the freedom of conscience for all people engendered by the dissenting religious agenda and thus defend democratic values for the future.
Free
church traits such as voluntarism, an active laity, populist forms of church
government, individualism, and suspicion of authority have nurtured the growth
of democracy - and more
importantly personal and community freedom and equality.
In the same way as our forefathers did we can
take new looks at our faith, bringing to bear our time and energy to discover
how to follow our Lord in a challenging age, an age when some people see the
future of the churches being focused for a while at least upon a few centres of
Christian excellence where resources can be concentrated and new ways of being,
experimented with and developed. There
are signs in our colleges and amongst our leaders that we can be successful in
the transition, that the Holy Spirit is still at work amongst us if we open our
eyes and dare to follow, sometimes down some unorthodox and scary paths. But the need to change and adapt to current
conditions, however hard that might seem to be, is a constant lesson in our dissenting
history.
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