Reflecting on rural
I went for a walk in my village the other evening, to enjoy the wintry air. It was fresh out there; the hoarfrost was hanging in the hedgerows, the sheep clustered beneath the ash in the field behind my house. The moon was a pale sliver just rising in the silver-blue sky, casting a dim glow over the lane that runs down into the village. I sat awhile on the bench by the war memorial, arms folded against the chill. November’s poppy wreaths look somewhat worn now, their papery edges curled up in the early winter frost. But in the midst of this comes hope. Advent had just begun; Christ’s birth is on the horizon.
And then I heard bells. Not church bells, the like of which rouse me from my bed on Sunday morning to hurry along the lane and do my bit. Rather, these were jangling bells, tied to the edges of children’s costumes, dressed up like Santa’s helpers. The children were singing Christmas songs, their strong boots beating rhythms up and down the village road as they moved from house to house, raising money for the school fund.
community shops dotted around the country, churches whose bells peal out on a Sunday morning and village centres where young carol singers strut their stuff just for the love of dressing up in costumes and jangling tiny bells.
The children were singing Christmas songs, their strong boots beating rhythms up and down the village road…
This might seem like so much twee nonsense: just the sort of thing that many rural theologians tell us is a thing of the past, and probably never existed anyway. It certainly sounds like an idealised snapshot of the rural idyll. But this is the scene that faced me when I went for my evening stroll: this is the story of my village life. And while I agree that we must be wary of reinforcing an inaccurate stereotype about rural life that can never again be captured (if it ever even existed), it is worth reminding ourselves, too, of the fact that many rural communities do continue to exhibit striking elements of it.
Although some rural communities struggle, and often feel beleaguered, there are vibrant pubs and
14 www. countryway. org. uk
Rural spirituality is concerned with all of these things. In their important study about spirituality, based on research undertaken in the Lake District town of Kendal, Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead discovered that the term is necessarily broadly construed. People understand it to mean almost anything about human life: being a good person, loving others, feeling a sense of profound connection with the non-human world.
If all of these things are ‘spiritual’, then the task of reflecting on rural spirituality might seem to be very imprecise. I want to say that there is certainly such a thing as a distinctive
spirituality in the countryside; this is what underpins the life-in-community to which many rural inhabitants are called.
14 www. countryway. org. uk
Rural spirituality might be taken to be concerned with life in all its fullness. This is a common theme in Christian theology, and has to do with the idea that, as creatures of a good God, we are called to flourish and fulfil our creaturely destiny. Faith in the Countryside (1990) saw such flourishing as part of the new creation, inaugurated by Christ’s saving work. According to the
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