Bring Back "Band of Brothers!"

Encounter is a midweek meeting held at what was Bracknell Baptist Church, now renamed, The Kerith Centre, after the original church building was demolished, to be replaced by a much larger meeting venue with a capacity of a thousand people. Its American megachurch-style interior might have been borrowed from Bill Hybel's 7,095-seat Willow Creek Community Church in the Chicago district of Barrington. Both the Kerith Centre and Willow Creek are very similar in architecture.

Interior of Willow Creek Community Church, Chicago.

For the midweek Encounter meeting, the plush interior is converted into a cafeteria or coffee house with several round tables laid out, with each table holding up to six people. How many people turn up each week varies, but taking a rough guess, I wouldn't be that far of the mark if I were to say about sixty. Sometimes it could be just half that.

And so, this week I was invited by a friend to attend a meeting. We were looking for a place to sit when I saw one table occupied by just one person. I then said, Oh look, there's James. Let's join him.

James merely nodded when we joined him at his table. As the thirty-minute slot for chatting over refreshments gave way to a time of worship, and then the main preach, it was as if James thought that he was the sole occupant of our table. Except when he rose, donned his facemask to walk over to the coffee server some 5-10 metres from where he sat. He then returned with his refill and kept his mask on until he was fully seated.

It was one of those occasions when I felt tempted to ask whether his mask was to protect us or himself. Had he said, to protect us, then I would ask why he wasn't protecting us while we sat at his table by immediately donning his mask as soon as we arrived, or even asking us not to sit at his table in case we get infected. But had he answered, to protect me, I could have asked him whether the virus discriminates between one who is sitting down from one standing up. 

Instead, we both kept quiet. I knew James since he arrived at Bracknell from University in the early 1980s. Only a tad younger than me, yet a brilliant academic, and an ideal candidate for membership with Mensa. And he's also on the autistic spectrum. And he wasn't alone. My friend with me also had Asperger's Syndrome and like James, he was educated to gain a doctorate degree. And then there was me, making up the three at that table. According to a psychotherapist who once spent three hours testing my intelligence quotient, I too have a slightly higher-than-average level of intelligence, along with Asperger's. The main difference between the three of us was that I never saw the inside of a university.

But looking back, in truth, my whole life was, and still is, a university, constantly learning something new. The only difference between these two friends and me is that I don't hold a sheet of paper bearing my academic credentials to impress any potential employer. But unfortunately, our society is geared on that piece of paper. It gives the holder a greater sense of personal and social worth than to the one without it.

Hence, as I had mentioned before this week, the rate of suicides is not only the highest among British men, but it's their biggest killer, exceeding that of cancer and heart failure. And the rate of suicides is almost certainly among the working classes, especially among those who have neither any qualifications nor a proper job.

James is one of those who are academically bright, is on the Autism Spectrum, yet remains single even up to his seventh decade of life. Yet, behind his veil of British stoicism and intellectual prowess, I can detect his underlying sadness, especially during this week's Encounter meeting. Not having married until I was 47, I can understand the sense of loneliness generated by the silence of being the sole occupant of his home, with the only contact with another person or group of people is vicariously through television or radio. James is not the only singleton I know personally. Whilst writing this blog, I was able to make a list of all men I know or once knew who never married. I came up with twelve names, all within a few years of my age, and two who were older than me.

Of the twelve, ten are Christians who are all alive today. The remaining two included an outstanding athlete who shone in both track and cross-country footraces during the late 1960s and into the seventies. This handsome athlete, qualifying as "the ideal bachelor open for any female to date" is still around today. The other non-Christian was ten years my senior, gay, and one of the Royal Life Saving Society's outstanding candidates, one of the few who, during the 1970s, successfully achieved the elusive, top of the range Award of Distinction. The last time I saw him was quite a few years ago and even then he looked aged and dishevelled. I wouldn't be surprised that, although he might have moved to a different area of the UK, there's that possibility of no longer being with us.

How can I describe our society's attitude towards the churches? Within the universal worldview of Darwinism having been set in stone, anyone believing in the Young Earth Creationism isn't taken with any level of seriousness but may be regarded as a nutter, one who hangs on to pseudoscience to maintain his religious beliefs that are out of touch with the real world. Thus, as someone once wrote, a typical church is viewed as a near-empty building on a Sunday morning, with a few addle-headed elderly crouching on their walking sticks and with a bat or two hovering inside the roof.*

Paul McCartney's 1966 pop song Eleanor Rigby reflected the attitude towards the church during those days. In verse 2, the lyrics were:

Father McKenzie,

Writing the words of a sermon no one will hear -

No one comes near -

Look at him working -

Darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there -

What does he care?

Rest in Peace, Church.

Did you know that, rather than gloating over the church's demise as I did during my teenage days when the song was released, I now find it so heartbreaking? Here is the Body of Christ, the Gate to Heaven, the Source of Hope, left to die whilst the busy, unbelieving world marches on under the banner of Charles Darwin and the constant development of advancing machinery, until the day comes, as Eleonor Rigby died alone and of old age, and was buried alone in her grave with no one else attending, so the church too, awaits its burial with nobody caring.

And now, with the war in Ukraine, people are turning to God in prayer - prayer for the war to end, prayer for Ukraine to remain as an independent, sovereign state, prayer for peace to remain across the whole of Europe, hope that World War III won't break out. Indeed, it takes a threat of warfare for the world to resurrect the church! If only the churches would lay on specific meetings to cater for people's particular needs in the modern world.

And that includes the men's meeting that came in various forms and which I often attended. One was the Friday morning men's group at Bracknell Baptist Church back in the early 1980s. It was the one chance when first-time neophytes were given the chance to preach. The sermon was then followed by the critique delivered by the senior pastor. The critique was the part most looked forward to by the group, as the pastor never minced his words but came out direct and to the point. 

Then there was the Saturday morning Men's Breakfast, held every six weeks at Ascot Life Church. Here, anyone was allowed to give a talk if approved by the Elders, and there was no critique to follow! Like this, I was allowed to give a talk on the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron and how important that is to the nation of Israel. The talk seemed to have gone down well.

At about the same time, my father-in-law was keen to drive me over to Christchurch Anglican in Virginia Water, a very well-to-do village ten miles 16.2 km east from my home. Here, far more attended the monthly Saturday men's breakfast. It was well organised, the food was very good, but lacked the personal touch that characterised a smaller meeting. Those who were strangers tended to remain strangers, although I made an effort to make one or two friends. However, the post-meal preaching was good and practical to our daily lives.

Then, also before and right up to the start of the pandemic, we men at Ascot Life Church met at an Indian restaurant nearby for a social over a meal together. Known as Curry Nights, it was guaranteed that my beloved would turn away from my foul-smelling breath after getting into bed, but the social value in those evenings out together as men was good and edifying for the whole church.

However, probably the men's meeting I considered the best was the Saturday morning Band of Brothers, which used to be held at the Kerith every four months, or three meetings annually. Unfortunately, that too, folded up some time before the pandemic, so the virus was not to blame for its demise, but as I suspect, due to lack of support or its gradual decline of attendance.

I recall at the start of one meeting when there was a long table laid out, banquet-style, along one side of the main sanctuary. One chap was sitting there, his back was turned to me as I approached from behind, and jokingly asked, May I nick your piece of toast?

To which he replied, You touch my toast and you will replace it with four pieces! - he answered with a degree of sternness, quoting from Exodus 22:1. Then he recited, That reckless Itai! What can I do with that reckless Itai? several times as I made my way to collect my serving and laughed at the same time. And that's the whole basis of these men's groups: to build and maintain relationships.

And the sermon can be dynamically life-changing. For example, forgiveness. To hold a grudge against someone causes the adrenal glands to pump out its toxin into the bloodstream, eventually bringing illness. But to forgive the offender is not for the offender's sake but for your own sake. Even if the offender has long disappeared out of your life, to refuse to forgive will only ruin your health, not the health of the offender! The main reasons to forgive are not only it's pleasing to God but you will enjoy health benefits. 

Such was the style of preaching heard during the Band of Brothers men's meetings.

By my observations, these meetings are generally shunned by singletons. Indeed, it's true that these adult men's meetings cater primarily for married men, how to improve the marriage relationship and that with your children. Single men weren't interested. Thinking of James, I can't recall him turning up for any of these meetings. Instead, the church had also laid on the single groups, a weekly get-together following the Sunday evening service. The formality soon fell apart due to a lack of commitment and ended up as a mere social, normally at the home of a different host each week by a rota system.

I can understand why. The singles were labelled apart from adults, indicating that one doesn't reach adulthood until his wedding day regardless of age. To me, this was a horrible misnomer.

A banqueting table like this one is ideal for men's socials.

I firmly believe that meetings such as Band of Brothers or equivalent hold an important place at any church. During these difficult days when pandemics and threats of war are ripping through the fabric of life, Christian men should get together for the triune order of worship, teaching and fellowship, and furthermore even invite non-Christians or leave the option open for them to feel welcomed.

Now that the pandemic is waning, maybe it's time for us to think these things over and see to organising.

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*Michael Green, You Must be Joking, 1976, Hodder & Stoughton.