Your church needs you now

THE villages of England are defined by their ancient parish churches— literally. They’re what makes a settlement, however small, into a village. These much-loved buildings are, however, increasingly at risk, as upkeep costs spiral and huge sums are demanded of diminishing congregations.

It was not always so. Church rates, paid by every landowner and farmer, kept the roof on and helped to pay the parson, but that system was abolished as far back as 1868 and, since then, churchgoers have been expected to foot the bill through voluntary contributions.

Now, with many fewer coming to church, the wider community may feel no ongoing responsibility to safeguard what is usually their most important historic building, although these are not sectarian buildings, created for the eclectic few. They are the common inheritance of the nation and belong to all of us, churchgoers or not. This is even more true in England—after all, it was Henry VIII who nationalised the Church!

This was the essence of the English Reformation and, 500 years later, these architectural jewels remain, for the most part, intact. Where civil war and invasion have destroyed so much on the Continent, here, there’s hardly a village that doesn’t boast a listed church: some tiny and restrained, others glorious, flamboyant and rich in memorial and history.

Many churches serve villages so small that, even if 100% of the inhabitants attended services, the upkeep would still be a drain. It’s that upkeep that’s the killer—if the building was threatened, the tower unsafe or the roof collapsing, all sorts of bodies would come to its aid and the whole community would work together to build a restoration fund. Nowhere in the world do people work harder and raise more money than when their iconic building is threatened.

The problem is the years between the appeals —the day-to-day maintenance that every householder knows all too well. Keeping gullies clear, cutting grass, mending windows, renewing rotten boards: all the things we have to do with our much less demanding homes. That’s the real problem: the world passes by and admires, the visitor goes in and explores, often leaving without donating a single penny.

It’s all left to the regulars, the faithful few who keep the show on the road. And it’s an expensive show. A typical unpretentious medieval church in a village with a population of 150 will be fortunate if 10% regularly attends. The annual running costs will be at least £8,500. This means that you have to look to everyone along the pew for about £50 a month, as well as a continuous voluntary commitment to keep expenses to the minimum. Fortunately, all over the country, people are managing it and they do it not just for themselves and their faith, but for all of us.

Sadly, more and more villages find they can’t manage any longer. Rural dioceses are threatening to abandon little-used churches and our rich architectural heritage is under serious threat, yet there is a simple, non-contentious way to give struggling congregations a helping hand.

Out of that £8,500, the huge sum of £1,500 is for insurance. Why should worshippers be expected to pay to insure the nation’s heritage? They don’t in France, Germany or Scandinavia, where it’s covered, albeit in different ways, by the state. England should have a national insurance fund that would be freely available to all listed churches so that the community can properly safeguard a national asset: worshippers would pay the clergy and keep things going, but the community would insure their inheritance. That would be fair dos!

‘It’s all left to the regulars, the faithful few who keep the show on the road

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