by an anonymous member of the Church of England

Rural ministry in the Church of England is a world apart from the busy city churches of provincial towns and the lively modern leaning evangelical congregations found in conurbations.   If you’ve never worshipped in a small rural parish, imagine belonging to a small residents’ association where everyone is terribly polite whilst expressing very strong opinions, everything smells slightly damp and dusty, and the person in charge has indefinite job security, absolute authority, and may lack any of the practical or spiritual skills normally associated with being a vicar.

Picture one typical rural benefice.   The priest-in-charge arrived three years ago from a nearby parish, where, it now transpires, her ministry had evolved spectacularly badly.  The lay interview panel were not made aware of her past failures.  Had they been, they would have been alert to the danger, I am sure, of appointing her to a benefice so similar to the one in which she had failed so publicly.  That posting ended with both the incumbent and the parishioners begging the bishop for her to be moved elsewhere, which was done under cover of COVID.  The more cynical felt she might have been drawn to parish ministry because of the provision of a house and an ‘easier’ life. 

Parishioners in this benefice thought they had chosen a new vicar to engage with parishioners, cherish their elderly, and shepherd their community with gentle wisdom, much as the previous incumbent had done most successfully.  Unfortunately, what they got (promoted by the area bishop behind the scenes), was an entirely unsuitable incumbent.    She is devoid of social skills or empathy and is painfully shy.  This manifests itself as unfriendliness and a passive aggressive approach to interaction with lay people, alongside a particular hatred for some individuals, whom she perceives as a threat.  She seems lazy and unwilling to carry out her duties, whether administrative, pastoral or spiritual.   She finds it hard to project herself in the services so that worship is generally irredeemably dreary.    

Realising the problems, five out of seven churches’ wardens asked their Archdeacon to intercede and to devise ways in which they could help the incumbent.   The wardens described to the Archdeacon the incumbent’s various failings: the poor quality of the services, the fact that the previous vicar had managed to take a huge number of services and she managed less than half that number, her continuous grumbling about the number of funerals which occur (not unsurprisingly in a rural community popular with retirees), her lack of interest in meeting her parishioners and her complete failure to provide any pastoral care.  When challenged on this point she complained ‘what about pastoral care for me?!’   

The Archdeacon confessed that he did recognise the resurgence of difficulties as in her previous post.  He spent the remainder of the meeting explaining that he did not actually employ the priest and he was not, therefore, her line manager.   He therefore could not help, beyond talking to her.    The Archdeacon conceded that the priest was probably out of her depth but reassured the wardens that she was unlikely to last more than a year or two and would retire.   This, he seemed to think, was a solution. 

Soon the incumbent became aware of the increasing noise of criticism and her behaviour became aggressive and vindictive, directed against various lay members of the churches, whom she cast as ‘troublemakers’.   She cancelled all further benefice meetings for churchwardens, a ‘divide and conquer’ policy, thus depriving them and their congregations of a voice.

The cold war then instigated by the priest in charge with one of the smaller parishes in the benefice is remarkable. Members of the lay community thus sought help from the area bishop.

The priest removed any responsibility for funerals, weddings and baptisms from that parish’s churchwardens.  She asked in writing that one particular warden communicate with her only through a third party, a retired clergyman.   Services taken by the priest in this parish are miserable and her attitude to the congregation is unfriendly and cold.   There is no ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ to the wardens, or ‘thank you’, no friendly engagement with the congregation and the services are lacklustre.  She brings with her to every service a ‘chaperone’, who is robed and skulks around the altar with no discernible purpose, except presumably, to protect the incumbent against attack! Frankly, the congregation dreads these encounters, and it has shrunken from ten to six people.   A congregation of this size cannot afford to lose anyone.

The service rota for these Christmas weeks sadly included no services for this particular victimised parish – nothing between mid-November and mid-January.    Villagers are left disappointed and bewildered that their church will be ‘dark’ over Christmas.

The incumbent also requires a chaperone (a retired clergyman) to attend PCC meetings, which, the latter noted, were most friendly, cheerful and constructive events!

There has been some good news.   This benefice is much blessed with a supply of popular retired clergy who are willing and able to join the life of the seven parishes and lend a hand with services.   But unfortunately, the present incumbent feels threatened by these thoroughly professional and experienced clergy, perhaps thinking that they will expose her shortcomings.   The retired clergy have no such intentions and simply want to help spiritually and practically in villages which are now their forever homes.   To this end the incumbent has banned them from taking services in the troublesome parish and has removed them from the service rota.  They have been warned not to attend any church-related events in that village or even social occasions unrelated to the church.    Those retired clergy feel they must comply, through a mistaken belief (I think) that the priest could remove Permission to Officiate, were they to break these rules.  Surely not?  

These are small acts of administrative vengeance wielded with a bureaucratic sledgehammer to destructive effect. Combine this with a diocesan hierarchy reluctant to confront conflict or take responsibility, and the result is inevitable: a priest who behaves like a minor autocrat, and parishes left waving for help.  One might think this would concern the diocesan authorities.

Rural life, with its particular rhythms, expectations, and social glue, is often misunderstood by diocesan officials and possibly they are not interested and simply regard rural parishes as sources of money, for which they ask continually.  These seven parishes struggle to pay their parish shares because of dwindling numbers. 

Rural ministry throughout England is in dire straits.  A dwindling number of clergy (and a dwindling number of congregants) means that parishes are bolted together into larger and larger, and more unwieldy, benefices.  The benefice described here has seven parishes but twelve and fourteen are not unknown.   The job of incumbent is thus almost impossible.   But some priests do a grand job, nonetheless.   They get congregations onside so that they will share the burdens and support their priest in practical ways.   Such priests get to know every family and build social contacts that go both ways and provide help and support for all parties when needed.    Congregants are often elderly and successful clergy understand that funerals are pastoral events, not inconvenient blockages in the clerical diary.  Support of bereaved families is also essential and ongoing, but if a priest builds connections in each village this will happen naturally with the help and support of residents.

To make matters worse, bishops and archdeacons seem overstretched, spiritually lacking, and keen to avoid dealing with parish disputes. So poor leadership goes unchallenged, on the wobbly premise that church law states that diocese do not ‘employ’ their parish priests and so nothing can be done.

Unfortunately, this priest in charge has decided, having alienated all those who might help her, to isolate herself within a tight group of four friends, who will ‘defend her’ against all criticism and opposition. Sadly, two of these are themselves churchwardens and are thus not representing the views of the two congregations which they lead.

The parishes endure because they know the church is bigger than one priest.

They endure because Christmas comes whether clergy approve or not.

They endure because there will always be someone willing to stand up, light a candle, and declare that the story of Christ’s birth is not affected by diocesan ham-fistedness and incompetence.

And most of all, they endure because humour is the final defence of the Anglican soul. When faced with ecclesiastical incompetence, they do not riot. They do not revolt.
They make tea.  They swap stories.  They pray that one day they will find a priest they trust. And so these little parishes soldier on, powered mostly by cake, stubbornness and resilience.

In a strange way, this incumbent has achieved something extraordinary. By neglecting her work and her parishes, by waging bureaucratic and administrative war on her wardens, by exercising authority with a supreme lack of grace, she has inadvertently reminded us that the church is not run from the bishop’s palace, the deanery, and nor from the vicarage.

It is run—quietly, stubbornly, lovingly—from the pews.   And the parish(es) will always outlast the priest.

It is difficult to see what, if anything, of the problems in rural ministry, the difficulties of multi-parish benefices and the vetting of ordinands will be effectively dealt with.   Some more practical, real solutions would be useful with a manual on how to apply them.   Rural churches are in dire straits.   The Church of England needs to grasp the nettle.