I HAVE five children. My youngest, Mira, is now 12 years old. Currently, her favourite things are — in no particular order — playing Mariokart on the Switch (a games console); spending time with friends; her stuffed elephant, Ella; family; and going to church. Mira is a really enthusiastic churchgoer, but she faces barriers that many others don’t. She has quadriplegic cerebral palsy and epilepsy; she cannot eat or drink, and is fed through a PEG (a tube that leads directly into her stomach); she is a full-time wheelchair-user, and can’t walk, stand, or sit on a pew or normal chair; she cannot read; and her eyesight implies that she doesn’t see all the pieces.
At an obvious level, Mira (and plenty of others also) wouldn’t give you the chance to attend a church if there was no ramp or level access. But being truly inclusive shouldn’t be simply about allowing people physical access to the constructing to attend a service: additionally it is desirous about how they could be fully involved within the lifetime of the church.
RECENTLY, questions have cropped up regarding Mira’s involvement in church life. How can someone be baptised in the event that they are older and might’t stand on the font, but are too big to be lifted in a dignified way? (And what in the event that they scream each time water goes near their face?) How can someone receive communion in the event that they can’t eat or drink? How does someone in a wheelchair engage with a service in the event that they are short and their eyesight isn’t great, however the only area without pews is behind the church? These are all questions that now we have faced as a family and that I even have had to reply to, each as a father and as a vicar.
Mira was not baptised as a baby. Every time we had a baptism in the course of the Sunday service, Mira would shout “Me turn!” There was little question in anyway that she desired to be baptised, but we needed to think through the logistics. There were three options:
1. Say that it’s too difficult, but that there could possibly be some sort of thanksgiving as an alternative.
2. Go ahead and take a look at to do the baptism, as we’d for anyone else.
3. Make adaptations in order that the baptism could possibly be meaningful for Mira, and in order that she could possibly be fully involved in church life.
Unsurprisingly, we went for option 3. We borrowed a conveyable font of the precise height from a neighbouring church, and I checked the baptism regulations, which state that water must be poured on the person being baptised, and that the water “must at the very least flow on the skin of the candidate”. And so, to Mira’s great delight, and to the enjoyment of her parents, godparents, family, friends, and church family, she was baptised on 5 February 2023. Without a versatile approach to baptism, it would never have happened, might need ended up being undignified and upsetting for Mira, or might been a reduced experience, through which water was someway flicked in her direction.
AFTER being baptised, Mira quickly realised that there was one other key a part of church life which other people did in a different way from her: receiving consecrated bread and wine at communion. In our churches, children are in a position to receive communion before confirmation, and a few children at Holy Redeemer were preparing to do that.
Having given it some thought, I contacted the Suffragan Bishop of Selby, Dr Flora Winfield, and asked if it will be permissible to syringe non-alcoholic wine through Mira’s tube at communion. Dr Winfield couldn’t have been more supportive, replying: “I’m delighted to say that every one my colleagues were of 1 mind in saying that you must go ahead and include Mira in Communion with the opposite kids, and the supply you make for her is kind of acceptable. Reception in a single kind is equally valid as in two.”
And so, to Mira’s great delight, and to the enjoyment of her parents, godparents, family, friends, and church family, she received communion for the primary time on 2 June 2024, alongside another children. Again, this might not have been possible without an inclusive approach to communion.
LIKE many churches, Holy Redeemer had an area put aside behind the church where there have been some books and colouring/drawing materials. Families know that they don’t have to take a seat there, but that they’re welcome to if it will be helpful. The problem was that the realm was up to now away from the front that it was not possible for Mira — and other children, too — to see what was happening, and it was very hard to have interaction with them.
So, we moved the realm from the back to the very front of church, acknowledging the chance that the kids on the front, while simply being children, is likely to be an excessive amount of of a distraction for everybody else. Months later, the conclusion is that this has worked splendidly well. Children are way more engaged with worship, they’ll actually see what’s happening, and plenty of adults enjoy seeing the kids in church.
Without an inclusive approach to the layout of the church, Mira and plenty of others would proceed to struggle fully to have interaction with church.
LIKE other churches, Holy Redeemer is on a journey. There remains to be work to be done to make the church inclusive in every sense, but relatively small changes have made a disproportionate difference to the lifetime of one young lady — and many other people, too.
Recently, I used to be away with Mira on a Sunday morning. As she loves church a lot, I wanted to seek out a church that we could attend — but turning as much as a random church shouldn’t be straightforward. I needed to search for churches that had ramps or level access and a layout which may work for a wheelchair-user. While I’m sure that the village church would have been very welcoming, attending a service there was not possible, as there have been steps up into the churchyard from the road, and an extra step and not using a ramp up into the church.
EVERY time we go to a special church with Mira, now we have to ask whether it is feasible for her to attend. Imagine if, just because you were you, you needed to ask yourself whether you could be welcome at church. Imagine having to envision an internet site, to not see whether there’s a ramp, but to envision whether you will probably be welcome and included.
I’m transgender — will I be welcome at church? Will I be included or excluded? We are in a same-sex relationship — will we be welcome? I even have a learning disability — will I be included or excluded? We can’t afford to present any money to church — will we still be welcome?
While most of us may never have needed to ask ourselves these sorts of query, many others should accomplish that commonly. As a church, I hope and pray that we will put ourselves in others’ shoes, and that we will seek God’s will together, all the time searching for to like our neighbours as ourselves.
The Revd Simon Biddlestone is the Vicar of Holy Redeemer, Acomb, within the diocese of York.
