Amusing, enjoyable, cute

'Tara Mullan is Jewish and an atheist; her husband, too, is an atheist. Most Sundays find them in the congregation listening to a traditional Church of England service in the local church with their two children, aged five and one. "Do I find it strange?" Tara wonders, sitting in the large, light living room of her London flat. "At first I found it amusing. Then I started to enjoy it. It's a nice family outing. It's rare that you have an hour to sit and be still, it's a time to reflect. Even if the words are gobbledygook to me, I like the music, I like the beautiful building, and the smell of the incense. My children enjoy it. They love going up for the blessing. The vicar touches their heads and says, 'God bless you' and they have started to say 'Amen', which I think is very cute."'

This is the introductory quote from an article in this morning's Guardian about parents "sneaking" their kids into church schools. I suppose that deserves a post in itself, but it was more her explanation and interpretation of what she does get out of going into that building for an hour on a Sunday morning that struck me (apart from getting her kids into a better school). Is this really what we as the church are modeling and showing to people?

On the one hand, it seems pretty good overall - an hour of reflection, time as a family, nice surroundings, some good tunes, a fairly sensory experience by the sounds of it.

On the other hand, if that's what she's getting from going there week after week, isn't she missing something? Isn't the church missing something? Is she not seeing or being shown any community or building of relationships? Any sense of purpose beyond the here and now? Any love or belonging or acceptance?... And I wonder what that vicar or any congregation member thinks reading that article over their breakfast?