A few weeks ago, I had a bit of a meltdown (I am rather administratively
and managerially challenged), as I was trying to work out our Church’s risk
assessment, with a view to possibly returning to our church building in July, the
date our government had declared safe for churches to reopen. Discovering the
amount of detail needed to ensure safety for everyone made us delay any
reoccupation until September. Reading the (justifiably) complex Baptist union
Guidelines this month caused us to establish a task group to plan restarting
services in the building, perhaps not until October.
Coping with the pandemic has been like being a
quick-change artist. No sooner have we become used to one way of running
things, than we have to adapt to a wholly fresh set of circumstances. Quite a
shock for churches where nothing much changes. The swiftly-altering responses
plunge us into the flux of “liquid church”. Like the government, but at a lower
level, we face the challenge of how to relax the restrictions, while still
keeping people safe.
Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari developed their concept
of the “assemblage”: a bits-and-pieces combination of social arrangements,
which together make an improvised kind-of-system. Lockdown, with its various
provisos, is one such assemblage. To prevent closure, however, they posited “lines
of flight”: a flexible mobile responsiveness, based on the example of nomad
armies on the steppes of central Asia. This notion encourages us to look for lines
of development and creativity; possibility, projection, from the confines of
what is. We can, moreover, search not only for what will be, but also what may
be.
Initially, I misunderstood this term to mean ‘flight’ as
in ‘flying’. But they, being atheists, conceived their philosophy wholly on the
“plane of immanence”: ‘flight’ as in ‘fleeing’. But my misunderstanding seems,
to me, to hold out more potential for true break-out from closure. I’d imagined
“lines of flight” as ‘lift off’, the vertical not the horizontal, the transcendental
in place of the immanent - a philosophy of ‘Ascension’. In addition, this
dimensionality could incorporate a metaphysics of ‘arrival’, that is the
introduction of the genuinely new, from the beyond, the other: a beginning not just
an ending.
Church will not, should not, be the same after lockdown. God
has gifted us with an opportunity to escape the limitations of our previous
ways of ‘doing church’. A completely unknown, unheralded, future opens up
before us. Along lines of vertical flight, this enables us to enter new realms,
which are not merely extrapolations, extensions, on the flat plane of what
already exists. God is sovereign: omnipotent and omniscient. The dual-directionality
within ‘lines of flight’, ‘departure’ and ‘arrival’ (like a pre-Covid airport
terminal), provides us with an open future, susceptible to both human
initiative, and Divine intervention.
The gains of online presence will not lost, but will be
supplemented by in-your-face physicality: evangelism in internet discussion
rooms, and confrontational street evangelism. Any future church will therefore necessarily be a
hybrid church, physical and virtual.
Interesting and I am sure the possibilites of virtual church have not really begun to be explored - most online stuff has been the old normal put into online form but still essentially the same. Radical and virtual - is it possible? Even if it is will I be able to engage (it's taken 4 attempts to post this)? Does it matter if I can engage? Probably not if we achieve a hybrid.
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