According to the Pew Forum on Religion in Public Life, 76% of Americans describe themselves as Christian. However, only 45 % are able to attribute the Gospels to Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. A majority of Americans self identify as Christian, however, nearly half of that group don’t know what it is that they are identifying with – at least not according to the usual definitions. This raises the interesting question of what is Christianity “now”, and do we perhaps need to renew or reform our commonly understood academic markers of Christian identity. The inability to identify key markers of Christian teaching and culture is not an exclusively “American” problem. Similar studies have been done here in the UK and the results are not significantly different. This is an element “religious illiteracy” – and it is having a corrosive effect across religious interactions, as well as within British and American society.

“New Atheists” use religious illiteracy to promote their agenda. Dawkins and Hitchens are fully aware that they are being less than honest about the nature of religion and belief – but to do so serves their rhetorical purpose. Using religious illiteracy Christian fundamentalism here in the UK for example, can promote false ideas about the persecution of Christianity. Religious illiteracy allows televangelists in the US to amass vast fortunes on the backs of the poor and the lonely. The shameful decline in the understanding of the nature of science in the US and now the UK is firmly grounded in religious illiteracy. Religious illiteracy has a very tangible impact on our day to day lives. It effects how people view one another. It effects our praxis, as well as our own self understanding as people of faith.

But lets take a moment to talk about religious illiteracy in the our OC/IC context. And yes – it does exist for us – which is both sad and amusing when you consider that our history is grounded in the ideas and protests of the intellectual elite. A number of recent conversations brought this home to me in a way I never before considered. A friend attending an indie liturgy over the course of a few weeks, was asking people in the congregation about what brought them int to he OC/IC community. They could not answer the question because – they did not know that they were worshipping within the OC/IC umbrella! Indie websites are a hard thing to view sometimes – precisely because of the overwhelming amount of religious illiteracy published there. One example of religious illiteracy that pops up repeatedly on OC/IC websites is that on one hand the community prides itself in its Old Catholic credentials – the usual: apostolic succession, liberal thinking, and adherence to the Declaration of Utrecht, while on the other splashing pictures and homilies online showing the community’s celebration of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception! These are simple, easy to see examples. They do however, demonstrate that the challenges we face in the Indie community are not that different from those of other Christian communities.

Why call it religious illiteracy, and not religious ignorance? I prefer religious illiteracy because it is active and not passive. Religious literacy is about participation in, and engagement with the ideas and praxis of faith communities – the religious literate has the skills to participate, and actively seeks to better place him- or herself in that context. To be a religious literate is more than “knowing” historical facts, and official teaching, and being able to reproduce them. Centuries ago people who could read would still call themselves “illiterate” – not because they did not have the ability to read the text on the page, but because they did not have the skills to participate in the literary culture of the day. These “illiterates” were not participating in the production and consumption of literature and its surrounding ideas and practices. Religious illiteracy functions in the same way. Thus, to be a religious literate is to participate in one’s religious culture – to be engaged with its ideas, and to contribute to those ideas through the life of the community.

People who have left their religious community seem to do so in part because they seek to become more literate. I read an article that detailed a project in a Roman Catholic diocese that conducted “exit interviews” with people who had left the church. One of the issues highlighted in these interviews was that when people sought to explore issues and questions, they were more often than not simply given the “rule” or “official teaching”. In essence these folk were shut out of becoming religiously literate – and it (rightly) made them angry enough to leave. I confess that this point in the project surprised me. First – I have observed over many years of OC/IC ministry that people generally expect our clergy to be religiously literate for them rather than with them – essentially handing over their baptismal rights to someone else to manage on their behalf. Is this conditioning due to the fact that so many OC/IC folk are “former” something else? I’m not always certain. The response to the exit interviews conducted in the Roman Catholic project were also counterintuitive. I have frequently been told by folks within the Indie community that people are simply not interested in the theology, that they don’t care about the background, or the foreground for that matter. People want to hear about their hot button issues (one reason why they join Indie communities in the first place), they want to receive communion, throw a few quid in the collection and get the hell out. Here again I find myself asking is this purely due to conditioning – having had that exact experience in their previous community setting – or is it an active choice on their part? Do we not owe it to our membership to offer something better? I think we do – but first it seems we must break through the barrier that produces or maintains this unsatisfactory situation – we need to challenge religious illiteracy within our own ranks.

One challenge to tackling Indie religious illiteracy is the simple fact that our clergy and lay leaders are not usually religious literates themselves. The impact of this fact is plain to see – we have no voice. Not only are the laity “conditioned” to hand over their baptismal authority to others, but our clergy rarely offer anything beyond the stock answers and official pronouncements of another institution. This is a conscious strategy in part – at least as I have observed it over the years. Regurgitating the doctrine and rule of another, “larger” “more authoritative” institution is safe, comfortable, non-threatening. It is, many believe, what the people wish to hear. Really? If so then why is it that they are worshipping in a tiny, marginalised independent sacramental community if they did not wish to hear a different voice a bolder voice, a different perspective? The leaders of our own movement are letting us down. These are the men and women who ought to be forward looking, engaged, zealous for the tradition. What we find instead is that they are consciously and unconsciously promoting religious illiteracy! We ought to all be asking – of ourselves, and of one another – where is our Indie Voice? How can we possibly tackle religious illiteracy if we are not willing to be bold enough to break away from the stock answers of another “Church”? Rather than slapping up pictures of bishops in liturgical drag, or producing websites dripping in fake medieval coats of arms, why not instead publish the transcript of the community exploring an interesting aspect of praxis or theology? This speaks to our voice – this expresses the willingness of the community to lead, rather than follow – and it develops the religious literacy of Indie folk by drawing them into the conversation. Our own leadership fails to pass on the history and ethos underpinning our Indie identity – is it any wonder then that we encounter “Indie folk” who don’t even know that they are Indie?

We ought to expect and demand better. The only way that we, all of us, are going to receive the fullest possible benefit from the experience of being baptised believers and belonging to our individual OC/IC community of choice is to be religious literates; to be, all of us, well informed participants in our OC/IC religious culture. Being able to perform a flawless liturgy, and barf up Bible bytes, to know who ordained whom, and when A schismed from Z, is not what I mean when I say that we ought to expect better – the net is actually a much wider one, one that is truly “catholic” in that it allows for everyone who desires to be a religious literate – to fully experience such literacy, and thereby to contribute to the religious literacy of others through art, research, hospitality, teaching and conversation. The net of religious literacy encompasses the grand arcs of history art and theology to be sure, but they also include our personal histories, and the story of our collective journey. These experiences informed by all the other elements from the story arc of “us” and create our understanding of being religious literates “now” while also laying the groundwork for what might come tomorrow. Being religiously literate is an active forward looking process one that demands investment from each individual, as well as from the collective. Without it, we condemn ourselves to be fossilised samples of “The Church” of the 19th century – a common affliction among Indie groups. With religious literacy we become icons of the Living Christ. Tackling religious illiteracy within our own ranks will I believe result in stronger, stable, engaged, creative Indie communities. It is an opportunity to see an old problem in a new light – and together to take action and do something positive about it.
Where would you begin? What tools would you use within your small Indie community? Finally can you envision ways in which you and your community can reach out to collaborate with other Indie folk – widening the net, and becoming just that little bit more engaged?

Many in the Indie movement are converts – indeed there are few of us who have had a “genetic” link to it if you will from previous generations in our family. I have on previous occasions talked about how difficult it can be for people to make the transition from a large “powerful” and well financed “church” to a tiny, dirt poor, anonymous Indie community. It is hard – for many it is very hard indeed. Your heart says “This is where I belong.”; but your conditioning says “This is just not quite right.”

I think that the place to start addressing this is not on an “institutional” level – but on a personal level, on a relational level within the life of the fellowship of believers – and the way to do this is to change our story.

Take for example a few simple very simple visuals. Your community does a benediction of the sacrament – why? Your bishop is never seen without a red sash, zucchetto and episcopal ring – why? You say the rosary, or have icons in the house – why? Your priest wears a collar, or riasa – why? When you receive communion in your community it comes as a disc shaped bone white wafer – why? These are only a few of a hundred different simple, everyday things that when we go to mass or liturgy, or when we do something devotional of an individual nature we take for granted, we “assume” them – why? More importantly what about the not so simple “ideas” and more substantive praxis that again we “assume” or take for granted – why? The question is not a challenge, it is, but not in the sense of challenging your choice. The question is a challenge to reflect on the very important story behind the activity.

Why?

I have heard it many times from people within the Indie community when you ask what attracted them to the OC/IC movement. You can boil most answers (even the angry reactionary ones) down to a simple idea. I wanted a fresh start.

So, here is my question – and this one is a challenge – if you come seeking a fresh start, why is it that you still do all the things you used to do? One possible answer is that it is what “catholics” do – also known as “this is what we have always done”. But if you came into the Indie movement seeking a fresh start then would it not be a really helpful exercise to sit down and walk through your personal religious story and ask some questions about “what I do as a “catholic”” and compare that to – what I can do as a “new” Sacramental Christian – an indie believer?

Here’s the reality though – and this too is borne out by many years of observation. It is very hard to change the story. It is very hard to challenge the story. Why? Largely because of conditioning. We are conditioned to understand and perceive that the “catholic” story functions this way, or that way, it includes these symbols, but not those symbols. And here’s where it becomes very personal – aware of our conditioning, we find that while it is certainly true that we really want to take advantage of the opportunity to have a fresh start – we often don’t because “catholics don’t do it that way”.

We are approaching the end of Lent looking forward to Pascha – the death and resurrection of the Incarnate Logos. Christ’s life and teaching is an example of radically changing the story, of asking questions about “the way we’ve always done it”, and coming up with very different answers. Through his death and resurrection we are liberated from the old story, and given an opportunity to reflect, and reshape our story – as individuals of faith, and as communities of faith.

So, now, what can we do to change the story?

Do you wear a cross? Do you believe doing so is an integral part of your faith as a practicing Christian? Is this a personal understanding or do you believe that our tradition obliges you to do so? These are only a few of the questions raised by a controversy here in the UK about the “right” of Christians to wear a cross or other religious symbols in the workplace or in public. I am finding that, while I am not a huge fan of the quarters from whence this controversy is being generated and sustained – it is making me ask some useful questions about the nature of symbols, and the relationship these symbols have to our practice and identity as sacramental Christians.

I find it curious that the more ardent conservative media sources are giving this issue the most space. Liberal and moderate media outlets are all but ignoring it. I cannot say as though I entirely understand why this imbalance exists. But it does raise some very interesting questions about how religion, more specifically Christianity, is reported in the media, questions that are for another post. Overall I find that religion reporting, like science reporting is extremely poor in the UK.

Is the debate surrounding visibly wearing crosses about real theology or, is it about fear? I actually think it is about fear, but I say that because of the source of the controversy – it is being backed by the likes of Lord Carey, Bp. Nizir-Ali, and the Christian Legal Centre, all proponents of the idea that “Christianophobia” exists in Britain today. That being a practicing Christian is increasingly under threat by Europe, radical Secularists, and Muslims. Their argument boils down to wearing a cross is a religious duty, a defence of Christianity against these forces aggressively marginalising the faith in contemporary British society. That this is grounded in reactionary fear rather than sound theology is further evidenced by the arguments individuals are setting forth in reports, and social media in support of openly wearing crosses. The overall content of the argument goes like this: Sikh’s wear turbans, Muslim women wear hijabs, and Christians are being penalised for displaying the cross. More than one commentor has written that while they did not previously wear a cross – they will now do so. Others have stated that while in the past they have worn their crosses discretely – now they will do so openly. Fifty years ago in Western Europe there was no compelling “need” to wear a cross openly – the running assumption was that the majority were practicing Christians. Now, in Britain at least, that assumption is being challenged – or it is felt that it is being challenged by very visible “alien” religions, the “New Atheists” and bizarrely, Brussels. This is not an argument grounded in solid theology, praxis, or faith – this is an argument grounded in fear, and reaction.

Back in 2006 we saw a similar controversy over the veil in the UK. At the time Tony Blair is reported as saying that the veil is a “mark of separation”. The controversy, it seems to me, is not really about defending our right to practice our faith (though Lord Carey and his band of not so merry men would like you to think that it is), rather it is about doing the very thing that many – conservative and liberal alike – accuse the Muslim community of doing, marking a clear boundary between “us” and “them”, between the “civilised” and the “savage”, the “saved” and the “damned”. This is not sound theology – it is a reaction born of anxiety and prejudice.

For this argument to be effective, however, the symbolism of the cross must be re-claimed from its current status as a fashion accessory, and re-asserted in the mind of popular culture as a religious icon. The history of its journey from icon to accessory is I think closely linked with the emergence of modern media – and I bet it would be a fascinating study to conduct. Think for a moment about the use of image of Buddha, Kali and Lakshmi in restaurants, handbags, and T-shirts: what is the “function” of these religious icons on consumer goods? Advertising for sure, but they have also become, or are increasingly becoming visual elements in our media culture. I’m using these examples first because their appearance on consumer products is more recent – and therefore more thought provoking than that of the cross, which was an established consumer product over 30 years ago. However, in the past ten years it has become fashionable for young people to wear plastic Roman Catholic rosaries – how do they understand this item and its imagery? Is it merely fashion, does it function as an impersonal talisman, or is it somehow devotional? I think I am not too far removed from the “history” to speculate that it is rooted not in faith, but in the culture of central American gang violence – which migrated to American gang culture, and entered the music industry (popular culture) and from there everyone wanted to be seen wearing this accessory because that’s what celebrity singers and rappers do. I’m willing to be proven wrong here – this rundown is purely speculative based on my own observation and guess work. The association between plastic rosary and wearer is not one of the wearer to God, and the mysteries of the faith, but of the wearer to his or her favourite popular celebrity. Here then we see how the cross has truly lost its meaning in the popular mindset. I have on occasion seen individuals wearing a rosary, or crucifix (either as a necklace, earring, or broach) while wearing a T-shirt imprinted with a Hindu God or Goddess. I cannot help but wonder about the symbolism and meaning of these images for the wearer. Do they have any at all – or is it merely a consumer choice of the most interesting and colourful accessories. Regardless of an individual’s interpretation, what is in evidence is how the meaning and value of these religious icons have been altered in a very short period of time. The point is that the cross has been a part of this process. Its meaning is no longer obvious. We cannot assume that because we see someone wearing a cross that that individual is a believing practicing Christian. Indeed I would argue that a quick survey of cross wearers would result in a very low number of believers, but a very high number of people giving other reasons for wearing it. Thus, if the symbolism of the cross no longer has meaning in the popular mindset then how can we expect that to wear it openly makes a statement about our religious belief?

What do you think: is wearing a cross a “requirement” of our faith? If you wear a cross openly and regularly why do you do it?

How many Indie folk are there? This is a question that has been in the back of my mind for over a year now. I keep seeing hints – but nothing concrete. I’ve assumed that nobody is counting us. And even with what I found yesterday on the ARDA site – I’m not sure that there truly is an overarching study.

I suspect that such a study would be a nightmare to design. Who is and who is not “Indie”? This is one reason why John Plummer coined the term ISM – there are so many possibilities, so many branches, so many “tributaries” if you will that feed the stream we know as the OC/IC ISM . . . “Indie” movement. For my own part I generally only “count” those tributaries that have a direct link to either Mar Julius, or the Old Catholics. Everything else, while it can be loosely classified as “Indie” does not share the same historical thread as the rest of us. I know this is arbitrary on my part, but I also wonder if it is not also true to say that some of the other tributaries do not see themselves, or identify themselves as being a part of the OC/IC stream.

Yesterday, I saw this on the ARDA website. I found it quite by accident – through another article, that pointed to the section, but to another denomonation (UCC I think it was). At first you’ll think, this has nothing to do with Indie communities and getting a feel for how many of us are out there. But I urge you to take a moment and dig a little. You’ll find, for example, that the Liberal Catholics (both branches) are accounted for, so too is the Apostolic Episcopal Church, and the African Orthodox, among quite a few others. The stats account for both active and inactive jurisdictions. I was plesantly surprised that they were not all the big names like the PNC.

While these figures are drawn from various years and are not all consistent – that is up to date, and thus we can’t simply add them all up and get “a picture” of the current state of the movement, they do give us an idea of the shape of the Indie community over the past 50 years or so – and yes, in some cases up until relatively recently. It is not a perfect resource, but it is perhaps a starting point for talking about how many of us there really are, and what that could mean for our future sustainability – especially in relation to my post the other day about the supposed decline of “the Church” in Western society.

Decrying the decline of “christianity” in Britain has come from various angles over the past year or so. Church attendance is diminishing, its membership ageing. “Unbelief” appears to be growing. Though I would argue that it was always there and only now is it getting better, perhaps more accurate, press. Fifty percent of people living in Britain today describe themselves as being of “no religion”. How many of those are believers (in a real or vague sense) is difficult to ascertain – only that they do not see themselves as a member of a particular church or denomination. Ninety percent of those who are raised not associated with a religious tradition, do not later join one, or identify with one. That last figure, is interesting, but not entirely unexpected. Religious practice is something that you need exposure to to get below the surface of watching a liturgy, reading a few patristic writers, or looking around a darkened medieval church. Christianity in Britain seems to find itself in a situation where it is no longer a force to be reckoned with. Politicians and social and public figures, according to Rowan Williams, see religion as a “problem”, an “eccentricity” practiced by fringe elements and ethnic minorities. This last point should come as no surprise. Consider for a moment what popular media covers when it reports on religious issues: radical fundamentalists, and other “fringe” groups. Sadly, we Indie folk get lumped in with the latter group. We are viewed as a novelty, even though we represent a 200 year old tradition within sacramental Christianity.

Are we getting an accurate picture? Thinking about the possible numbers of Indie OC/IC folk for a moment. I am unaware of any accurate figures detailing the number of OC/IC believers. The last such figure I know of is from the 1920 US census. When the surveys are conducted there is not a space for Indie folk. Many people in our “sub-group” will say that they are “catholic” simply to make things easier, or because there are no other options. By the way – I always pick “other” and then fill in the blank if one is provided. If we had an accurate statistic of our own numbers then we might not be asking – is Christianity declining – because we would be asking a different question: How is Christianity changing, such that we are observing people abandoning large parish buildings in favour of smaller more intimate groups? Why? For starters I think that the Indie movement is larger than we think. When you are only counting church membership in the big-tent denominations I think you’re not getting an accurate picture of the health of the faith.

Is it that Christianity is declining, or is it perhaps more accurate to say that the nature of Christian expression is changing? I have seen quite a few pieces over the past couple of years suggesting that people simply cannot identify “Christianity”. When you consider the statistic I mentioned earlier – that the majority of those not raised in a religious tradition will not then seek to participate in the life of one – it is no surprise that people are ill informed, or wholly ignorant of what “Christianity” is. Thus, if people are no longer seeing the church building as a part of their life, they are no longer learning about the faith and its praxis, we should not be surprised to see figures suggesting that Christianity is in decline in Europe. It is! I’m not being alarmist. This is only one feature, in a much larger picture. I actually think that there are more “believers” out there than the statisticians have found. I think that what we are seeing is that the nature and expression of Christian practice are changing. People are relying on their online interactions more and more. People are avoiding or abandoning the scandal and infighting of the “institutional” churches. What we are seeing is an absence of “brand loyalty”. That is to say that people are not committing themselves to a particular “christian” identity. A Pew study a year or so ago showed that in the US even those who openly identify themselves as Christian are picking and choosing elements of praxis and belief from a variety of religious traditions, and spiritualities. The nature and expression of Christianity is changing.

Where do we Indie folk fit in this picture? Because Indie communities are less likely to be your stereotypical parish, it is safe to say that we are a feature of this change. However, I wonder, are we in a leadership role giving shape to the change, or are we merely following the path of least resistance to gain a few followers here and there? Are we allowing old models of “church” to die out, while thoughtfully examining and testing new ones? I believe we should be – the shape and nature of Indie communities is such that we have the creative advantage that could strengthen existing communities, and bear witness to the life and faithfulness of the OC/IC tradition. We need to be careful not to fall into the trap that so many of us witnessed in the late 80s and early 90s of reform or change, simply for the sake of change and reform. Change is adapting to new circumstances, it has substance and meaning. Change is not successful, it does not build up the community, when it is done on a whim of an individual, or a community.

Below are some of my ideas. They are not novel in themselves, but in a context, in our context I think that they can bring something useful to the table.

•        We live in a mobile society; people want to take it with them. I wonder if the decline in church membership is a product of our mobile society. Generally, we no longer live in the same geographic location for as long as we once did. You no sooner move to a place, settle into the life of a faith community and you move – again. I seem to recall once seeing a statistic that in the US people don’t stay in the same job for more than five  years on average. Jobs being a main cause of people moving from one place to another. It is easy to see how this can be disruptive, it is no wonder that many people have turned to less stationary sources for spiritual growth and communion. Our increased ability to be, and remain interconnected, wherever we are through such things as social networking, the internet, mobile phones, video phones (e.g. SKYPE), allows us to participate in an active, engaged community scattered over a wide geographic region, that may only meet in a given place quarterly, or once a month. Outside of that physical meeting however, the conversation, and the relationships within the community continue wherever individual members might be in real time. This reality – and it is already a nebulous reality in the Indie community, may mean that we develop further adaptations consciously managing issues related to this new way of being in communion, being church. For example, we might find it necessary to continue the oft maligned practice of ordaining more people than is traditionally deemed necessary – if it means that an increasingly mobile membership can easily “take it with them”, sharing with others the OC/IC tradition, introducing them to our expression of sacramental Christianity. This would mean however, that we have a much needed conversation within the movement about ordination, what it means, how it works. It also means that we will need to take serious steps to reign in the abuse of the office, laying out broad principles of quality control, that heretofore have not existed in any real or consistent manner.
•        Who are you? A lack of understanding or knowledge about the basic shape of Christianity is certainly a contributing factor to the notion that the faith is in decline. “They devoted themselves to the teaching of the Apostles. . .” Luke’s idealised image of the post-Ascension community in Jerusalem is not pure myth. Surveys have shown that a congregation that has a clear understanding of who they are and what they are about thrives. This is not to say that Indie communities ought to take on the Fundamentalist perspective of everything is a black and white choice. We are after all sacramental Christians and that means we are those who revel in the grey. We stand in the tension between black and white, and celebrate it. Can you put your finger on a few lines to give a total stranger an idea of what Indie Catholicism is? Indie communities tend to “assume” a knowledge of sacramental christianity, of the historical OC/IC ethos, and “Christian culture”. I think that this is a mistake – we are missing an opportunity here to not only empower and breathe new life into our existing communities, but to reach out to nones. We need to have the conversation about our core identity from one bishop to the next, one community to the next. More importantly however is the very real need to empower individuals within the community to own that identity and put it into action. Only then will we find our communities adapting well to new circumstances, weathering trials, and flourishing.
•         Make resources, and make them accessible. Home grown Indie resources (such as this, this, this, this, and this) designed for individual and communal use are sorely lacking. Just as we “assume” an understanding of Christian ideas and culture, we tend to “borrow” (or continue to use) the resources of other churches without adapting them to a new situation, a new setting – an Indie OC/IC setting. If we are to see stronger communities within the movement, people need to have access to clear useful resources. Prayerbooks are one of the most popular Apps for phones and tablets. Books, blogs, and pamphlets covering a wide variety of topics of theology and praxis from an Indie perspective not only aide existing members in their participation in the community, but they can also be an effective way to reach out to new people. People may not necessarily participate in a specific community, but they are seeking moments of solitude, reflection, engagement, nourishment. I have on more than one occasion heard someone describe their path to conversion from one tradition to another. A common thread through them all is how reading one book, one essay, hearing a talk, or watching a video or documentary inaugurated the process. I have met many others who, while never setting foot in a church, regularly read or view resources from a particular set of writers, artists, creatives within a given tradition. These resources feed their hunger for spirituality and engagement with God. Who is my neighbour – the one I will never know.
•        Its all about “attitude”. A group’s attitude colours everything they do. Indie communities have a number of historic attitude challenges, for example some communities are reactionary, others look to the idealised past, rather than the now, and the future, still others emphasise a particular issue almost to the exclusion of all others. I have discussed these and other elements of OC/IC communal life throughout the blog. A community’s attitude can have the effect of narrowing its ability to adapt to the changing landscape. Attitude can greatly strengthen the community’s ability to adapt, develop, and grow – not just in terms of numbers of members, but more importantly, in terms of its engagement with the active life of a sacramental believer. What is the overarching attitude of your local community? What is the tone, the approach to change, and issues of bishops, clergy, and laity in your community? Is the boundary set too close, or is there plenty of room to expand into the unknown, the unexpected?
•        Be visible. There are no accurate numbers on the size of the Indie community. One reason for this is that it is difficult to create a clear “category” for OC/IC ISM and “other related, but not related” groups. The reasons are relatively unimportant, however, it does mean that we have no idea if the tradition is growing, declining, or static. Nor do we know more nuanced demographic data such as the age range, the continuity of Indie adherence within families etc. This lack of statistics says a great deal about the nature of Indie Catholicism, and how we are perceived by outsiders. It means that if we are to be, or continue to be leaders of adapting to the modern sacramental Christian landscape, we must actively seek to engage, befriend and learn from one another. Moreover, those conversations held in appropriate forums can expose nones and others to the living OC/IC tradition, challenging or dismantling historic stereotypes some have about OC/IC communities.

My list is not about “getting bums on seats”. It is about a much needed conversation about how Indie communities can and in some cases are already adapting to the changing expression of sacramental Christianity we see around us. I think it is better that we use the existing shape of OC/IC communities to be proactive, to lead, rather than to follow (or struggle to keep pace). I believe that any adaptation we undertake ought to focus solely on strengthening existing communities, and empowering Indie believers. Growth in any given community is perhaps a beneficial by-product, but faithfulness is the first objective.

What is “culture”? The dictionary definition describes it as “customs, institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people or group”. I have always tended to understand “culture” more along national or ethnic lines more than anything else. I don’t think I have ever consciously considered the idea of religious culture – even though, as any regular reader of this blog will no doubt observe – I do go on about it quite a bit!

I have encountered some media recently that has made be sit and be more conscious about this idea of religious culture. What strikes me about the reports I’ve seen is how the lines are notably blurred between “national”, “ethnic” culture and “religious” culture. It so happens that my religious and ethnic “cultures” overlap quite nicely. This of course is both an accident of history, and personal choice. But what about someone who has chosen a religious culture that is essentially alien to his or her ethnic culture? How are they affected? How do they adapt?

This is a very important question when you consider people who have converted to, or who are participating in, Independent Catholic communities. It is easy to see how people and communities do or do not adapt to this apparent disjunct of cultures.

Al Jazeera has produced a three part series exploring the impact of immigration on French Muslims. It recounts the journey from North Africa, first as economic migrants, then as settled families, and now as “fully” French. The question asked in the piece: “What challenges have generations of Muslim immigrants in France been facing to retain their cultural identity?” What strikes me here is that the “Muslim culture” from the various former French colonies would presumably differ from region to region – so is it possible to describe “Muslim culture” in this sense without first qualifying it as Algerian Muslim, Lebanese Muslim, Egyptian Muslim etc.?

Here in Britain we are starting to see the description “British Muslim”, I’ve not done a search yet but wonder is there a parallel description in France? Does this mean that there is a uniquely British Muslim culture emerging from the mix of Pakistani, Indian, Bangladeshi, Egyptian, Malaysian Muslim cultures? What does that look like? What is the effect of converts – for there are converts either purely through personal conviction, or marriage – on such a development?

The Al Jazeera piece also mentions – almost in passing – those from immigrant families who have “quietly renounced Islam”. Presumably they have done this to better assimilate into the national culture of France and Western Europe? Does this imply that their link to their families traditional culture and religion was an impediment, an embarrassment? Or can it be said that this is a natural progression of assimilation?

For this last point at least, I can look at a simple, but tell tale example in my own family. Slovak custom is that you do not put up the Christmas tree before Christmas Eve. An American custom, particularly in the South, is that you put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Some of my extended family, now living in the American South, no longer wait until Christmas Eve (which they certainly did just over 20 years ago), but now put their tree up the day after Thanksgiving. The question is why? Is it purely assimilation? Partially yes – I once asked. It turns out they no longer remember what the “old” custom was, or what it meant. They therefore, simply do what everyone else does. Yet the “old” custom is not so old so as to be “forgotten” – my grandparents and great grandparents did it and they only died within the last decade, but it does seem that this custom has not been passed on to my younger relatives, so they have no knowledge of it. This simple custom is dead in that branch of the family in less than a generation.

It seems to me that as the original immigrants die, and families spread out in the new land. The communal aspect of these customs looses its meaning, because the community that practiced it no longer exists as it once did. This means that abandoning the old ways, is grounded in the process of naturalising in a new setting. If you are the only Slovak family on the block it will stand out that you don’t have your tree up yet. If you are the only Muslim in the village, it can be pretty damn lonely!

What the Al Jazeera piece does not specify, is of those who it says have quietly renounced Islam, how many have converted, at least nominally, to Roman Catholicism? How many have abandoned religion entirely – as cultural baggage they are attempting to leave behind?

A series of Israeli government ads (albeit rather crassly) addresses the challenges of living outside the context of a particular culture in this case both national-ethnic and religious. The ad that grabbed my attention shows an American Jewish family skyping grandparents in Israel. The grandparents are seated with a lit menorah prominently seen in the background. The grandmother asks the little girl, what is the holiday being celebrated. She grins and blurts out “Christmas!” To the obvious discomfort of all four adults.

Jeffrey Goldberg of the Atlantic writes:“These government-sponsored ads suggest that it is impossible for Jews to remain Jewish in America. How else are we supposed to understand the “Christmas” ad? Obviously, assimilation and intermarriage are issues in America in ways they aren’t in Israel. Israel has other problems of course, such as the fact that many of its rabbis act like Iranian mullahs. . . .The idea, communicated in these ads [is] that America is no place for a proper Jew, and that a Jew who is concerned about the Jewish future should live in Israel. . . .”

Here in the UK there is a small (I think it is safe to say microscopic) but vocal minority of Muslims seeking to turn the UK into a new Khalifate. Is this because as a minority religion in an historically Christian kingdom these voices feel intensely the challenge of living outside one’s historic cultural context? Do these groups, like the Israeli government believe that it is difficult, if not impossible to maintain their religious identity and practice outside the context of a Muslim theocracy?

These are two examples (Judaism and Islam) that are relatively easy to talk about the challenges. What about a Christian minority community present in the land of another Christian majority? Here of course we are bringing these ideas close to home – because lets face it, as many Indie folk that are out there, we are still, and I suspect always will be a minority (I should point out that this does not bother me at all, it is simply a fact). Here the challenges, and changes are not as easy to detect. So what effect do they have? Can we talk about the negative effects? Are we even aware of them?

We can also talk about how within the majority community – and here I can use British Anglicans as an example, or perhaps more widely British Christians – there are challenges to and pressures on the received understanding of religious cultural identity. If we look at the responses to controversies caused by an increasing pressure on the wider society for Christianity to accept lesbian and gay marriage, and ordinations. The response from the right (i.e. the socially and institutionally conservative) is that such a shift in religious praxis would undermine cultural and social cohesion. This is clearly a challenge not to an immigrant population, but to the native population that is consciously or unconsciously worried to protect its cultural identity – in this case its “Christian” cultural identity.

What we have not talked about here is how these communities define and understand their religious culture. Why for example do Israeli authorities responsible for the “Christmas ad” believe that one can only be a proper Jew living in Israel? What is it about the veil that offends the sensibilities of being French, resulting in its public ban earlier this year? What is so challenging about living in a western liberal democracy that is so challenging to Muslim belief and practice, that leads some to call for a Khalifate take over in the UK? Similarly what terrifies nominally Christian conservatives in the US so, that a number of states have officially banned Sharia law when there has never been a campaign to institute it in the first place? These examples are not about “fear” (though for sure they are a little bit) rather they are expressions of how various groups majorities and minorities understand the make up of, and challenges to their religious culture.

So, can we talk about an Indie religious culture, and if so what is it? I think that as we move further away from the consolidation of “independent catholicism” in the late 19^th century, it is becoming increasingly difficult to talk about one Indie religious culture. Rather I think we need to see the movement (and here again I now wonder if this too ought to be plural: movements) as streams of different OC/IC and yes, ISM cultures. To do otherwise would simply do one’s head in they have in the past forty years alone exploded into a convoluted interwoven tangle.

Are we as a minority group within the Christian tradition so overwhelmed by the praxis of those around us that he can do little more than assimilate? This is a question that has bothered me for some time. Because I’ve seen the assimilation happen. When I say assimilate I should clarify, I mean to have the look and feel of the surrounding Christian group. So here in the UK it is not uncommon to see indie groups following Anglican or Roman Catholic custom and practice. To do otherwise is seen as suicidal. I was once chastised by a then member of the community, that my liturgical practice was not in keeping with what Anglicans would approve of! That’s nice, I replied, given that we are not Anglicans! It is a challenge to be authentically indie when all everyone sees, and most know is the custom and practice of a larger, stronger, Christian tradition surrounding your community. However, I believe that there is a lost opportunity for development within an authentic Indie context if we get lazy and merely “assimilate”.

We cannot overlook the fact that just as some in France (and I suspect too here in England) are quietly forsaking the religion of their immigrant families in order to feel better connected with French society, it is true that the Indie community looses many great thinkers, artists, and faithful members every year because of the pressures of being a minority, an “outsider”. Especially when it is entirely possible to simply attend, or join a church that has the same liturgical practice, and communal life and customs as the indie community one once enjoyed. Here the question becomes – what is our reason for being? What makes us different, especially now that the issues that brought the OC/IC movement into existence over a century ago, seem to no longer pose a challenge for modern believers.

Are we seeing new developments emerging in the OC/IC community, re-working and shaping our identity, our culture, and reason for being? I confess I don’t know that I have enough information to even begin answering this question. I have certainly seen shifts in my lifetime. Shifts away from predominately ethnic issues of Slovak, Polish, Belgian, and German. Shifts in the wider movement’s attitude toward authority. And more recently shifts in understanding what exactly qualifies as being OC/IC. These are all challenges. But I also like to think of them as opportunities for thoughtful committed Indie folk to develop and contribute to our “religious culture”.

Thinking about Indie religious culture, reflecting on the challenges and issues of other traditions, has given me more questions and answers. But I suspect that that is a good thing. It is good to be aware, to be conscious of what those things are that when set down together describe an OC/IC identity and practice. Twenty years ago I believed I understood what that was. Today . . . .I have many more questions than answers, and the challenges of being Indie in a culture that is overwhelmingly not, make some of those questions all the more interesting.

If you’re not already a fan of Retronaut – I cannot recommend it to you enough – it is one of the most interesting, quirky sites on the net.

In a recent edition are these pictures of an abandoned church in Buffalo, looking through them I started “feeling” a sense of loss, mourning even, for the many individuals who contributed to the life of that place.

Then I started thinking about the two churches my own family were associated with – one Old Catholic, the other Roman – both now defunct.

Nothing we do is permanent – but it is rather unsettling to view a place with so much individual and collective “spirit” invested in it – even during your own lifetime – as you would a Roman temple, or Egyptian tomb.

Stepping away from the physical building for a moment I find I’m more interested in the loss of community, identity, and with it belonging. My grandmother lived through the change of her local parish church slowly shutting down, its community dissipating, people she’d sat with and visited in church for years no longer there – having had to find another parish – and there feeling like a stranger no doubt. She often commented on how she felt the loss, how sad it was, and how odd it felt.

Indie communities have an unfortunate tendancy to be highly fluid and very impermanent. It is perhaps one of the more difficult aspects of being active in the movement; you no sooner get settled in the life of a community when it shifts or dissipates.

I’m not merely talking about change – change is a natural part of life, and to think that it would not not also be reflected in our faith communities is naive (I guess this is perhaps one of the most effective arguments against “Traditionalists”?).

Some changes are more than that however, they quickly, dramatically alter the nature of a thing. The priest moves and the community dissipates because there is no replacement. A clique within the community “makes its move” and fractures the whole. A dispute with a bishop, or within the wider synod throws everything into chaos. Many of us in the movement have seen this, or lived through this at least once.

What if we were to reflect on the images of hollowed, empty, abandoned church buildings from a generation earlier and use these as a point of reference?

Consider how people, individuals and groups, invested their time, creative talent, hard earned money, and most importantly their spiritual activity and alliance in making this “place” (community) their spiritual home.This community was an integral part of their personal and collective identity. This community was an expression of their faith and devotion. These are only a few of the points we might reflect on.

Now put it in the context of our own Indie setting. For most of us the “building” can be little more than a metaphore – an “icon” if you will – drawing our conscious thinking to bear on our actions. If we kept in our mind’s eye the most haunting shadow of a former community – such as one of the images in this photo essay – asking some of these questions not only of ourselves, but those within whom we have each invested our own time, talent, and relational energy – would we then find that we have more creative ways to overcome the challenges of the historic fluidity and impermanence of our Indie communities?

The spirit of a place, the shadow of the soul of the community that called it home, can I believe be a moving “icon” for Indie folk seeking to invest in their long-term relationship with one another, and within the tradition.

Today is the last day of the liturgical New Year.

Throughout the year we celebrate and commemorate various holy-men and holy-women who through their example – whether it is through their teaching, or their praxis – encourage us in our own understanding of, and practice of the Christian sacramental tradition.

Heresy brings another level of understanding to our living the faith. Yes it is true that some of the results of dealing with heresy seem obtuse and esoteric but the fact is our understanding of “being” human, “being” Christian would not be what it is without the tough questions, and sometimes wondurfully wierd teachings of the early heretics.

Remember that heresy is not “anti-Christian” rather it is a result of thoughtful people struggling with one or more questions related to their attempt at living faithfully. That is not to say that we should embrace heretical teaching – rather it is to say that we ought to respect the fact that such teachings (and their teachers) were doing the same thing we are – striving to understand and be faithful to the Gospel.

Christianity is what it is in part because of our historical experience of heresy; for this reason, on this the last day of the year, we commemorate rogues and rakes of Christian history. Not because we want to emulate their example, but because their experiments, questions, and the answers they developed, contributed to the body of tradition, our heritage we as modern believers refer to as our anchor and starting point for all theology and praxis.

“Don’t you think that Jesus is the solution to the problems in the Middle East – that it is only through him that peace will come to the region?”

This is a question posed to me by a door-to-door evangelist a few years ago. It is a question that irritated me at the time, and has remained with me ever since. It is a question, which to my mind, cuts to the very heart of our theology of the incarnation, our role in it, and how we have somehow, over time, surrendered that role.

We Christians describe the person of Christ as “God and Man”, “God with us”. The Patristic writers describe the process of the incarnation as one that required the cooperation both of God and of Man. At the very core of our understanding of the nature and mechanics of the incarnation is the idea that we humans had a function and a responsibility in the process of redemption, and the outcome of salvation. But somewhere along the way – I’m not sure where – we surrendered our active role in this very important process and became passive observers, fatalists. If God wills it, it will happen.

There is another problem with this all too pervasive model – Christianity focuses on the relationship between God and man, and in the context of our sacramental Christian tradition, the relationships shared between people. So if we have surrendered our role and function – our responsibility – in the ongoing process of realising the fullness of salvation, then this essential relationship is broken. That should be a very uncomfortable realisation for all of us.

A consequence of the broken relationship is that the “conversation” is over and all that is left is to obey, or to become a meek, hopeful supplicant. Since many who have joined or converted to the Independent Catholic life, did so in part because they rebelled against “un-thinking Christianity”. That is to be “told” to accept and obey the teachings and decisions from the hierarchy without question – wondering if there might not be a better way to conceptualise, even realise the significance of the idea within the life of the community.

In this broken model there are no active believers, no “Christians” there are only followers, numbers, bums on seats passively absorbing the dictums of an “elect” few. Here, it is easy to see how our broken relationship with God has seeped into our relationships with our “community” and its constituents. With this model – all catholicity is lost because only the hierarchy is in a position to actually do anything. The fullness of the “body of Christ” is not realised – the talents and effort of each constituent member goes uncultivated, uninvited.

The grace of baptism is the gift of empowerment to be participants in the conversation, to initiate creative theology and praxis, to relate both to God (who through the incarnation underwent the most extraordinary expression of his desire to be in relation with us) and one another. In our OC/IC context we are blessed with small communities, and if you’re lucky a decentralised hierarchy where the bishop is a teacher, a guide, a fellow sojourner, one who points the way and serves as a point of reference and unity rather than a “monarch” or “magestrate”. This ecclesiology allows for the community to develop a voice in conversation, and to become a voice in the greater conversation with God. When everyone in the community can sit down at table, share a meal, and explore an issue – be creatively engaged with our theology and come out at the other end with a renewed sense of praxis – then we are active Christians faithful to our underlying belief in the incarnation.

My response to the poor evangelist standing at my door was to point out that no, we humans are responsible for the suffering in the Middle East because we have surrendered our baptismal role in working together, and with God to bring about a fair and just resolution. I’m afraid they went away surprised that someone would talk with them – and  perhaps regretting it.

“The Holy Scriptures, instead of being the source or rule of faith, are . . . a record of the teaching of the Church in the first ages, a record confirmatory and corroborative of the faith, but one which was never intended to supplant the divine authority of the living voice of the Church.” – Ecclesia, 7

Written two years before his consecration, Matthew’s words strike a chord when we consider the vocal protests of fundamentalist Christians today.