This is my child, in whom I am well pleased

Undiluted Belonging

Editor’s (NatCo) note: The article below was originally published in the Church Times, here . This version is adapted from the author’s original submission . Simon Biddlestone, a member of Inclusive Church, offers his reflections that beautifully articulate what it means to be an inclusive church and the subtle, often unintentional ways exclusion can occur. We were keen to share his words and Mira’s story more widely and I’m grateful to Simon for allowing us to do so. Simon is a church leader based in Acomb and Poppleton, York Diocese.

I have five children. My youngest, Mira, is now twelve years old. Her favourite things include playing Mario Kart on the Switch, spending time with friends, her stuffed elephant Ella, family and going to church. Mira is a very enthusiastic churchgoer!

However, when Mira goes to church, she faces barriers that many others do not; she has quadriplegic cerebral palsy and epilepsy. She cannot eat or drink and is fed through a PEG (a tube which leads directly into her stomach). She is a full-time wheelchair user and cannot walk, stand or sit on a pew or standard chair. She cannot read and her eyesight means that she cannot see everything.

If you are Mira, there are barriers to coming to church. Many of these barriers are completely unintentional, but they exist nevertheless.

At the most obvious level, Mira would not be able to attend a church without ramped or level access. That alone excludes many people. (ed. And is a detail often not mentioned on church websites).

But being truly inclusive isn’t simply about allowing people to enter a building and simply attend or observe a service. It is about how people are genuinely included and able to be involved within the life of the church.

Over time, a number of questions have been asked about Mira’s participation in church life.

• How can someone be baptised if they are older and can’t stand at the font but are too big to be lifted in a dignified way? (And what if they scream every time water goes near their face!?)
• How can someone receive Communion if they can’t eat or drink?
• How does someone in a wheelchair engage with a service if they are short and their eyesight isn’t great, but the only area without pews is at the back of the church?

These are all questions that we have faced as a family and which I have had to respond to, not only as a father, but also as a Vicar.

Mira was not baptised as a baby. But each time we had a baptism during the Sunday service, Mira would shout “ME TURN!” There was no doubt whatsoever that Mira wanted to be baptized. But how? We identified three possibilities:

1. Decide that it was too difficult to do and offer some kind of thanksgiving instead.
2. Go ahead and try to do the baptism as we would for anyone else, treating Mira the exact same way as all others we baptize.
3. Make adaptations so that the baptism could be meaningful for Mira and everybody else, dignified, appropriate and a genuine sacramental occasion, that celebrated and involved Mira’s faith and nuanced being.

Once baptised, Mira quickly became aware that there was another central part of church life in which her participation would need to be done differently; receiving consecrated bread and wine at Communion. In our churches, once baptised, children are able to receive Communion before Confirmation, and some of Mira’s peers at Holy Redeemer were preparing to do this.

After careful thought, I contacted the Bishop of Selby and asked if it would be permissible to syringe non-alcoholic wine through Mira’s feeding tube at Communion. Bishop John could not have been more supportive. His response was clear:

I am delighted to say that all my colleagues were of one mind in saying that you should go ahead and include Mira in Communion with the other youngsters and the provision you make for her is quite acceptable. Reception in one kind is equally valid as in two.

And so, again to Mira’s great delight, she received Communion for the first time on 2^nd June 2024, alongside other children.

Without an inclusive approach to Communion, it would have been impossible for Mira to be fully involved and included in with this central act of church life.

However, there was still another question remaining: How does someone meaningfully engage with a service when they cannot easily see or hear what is happening?

Like many churches, Holy Redeemer had a designated area at the back of the church for children and families, with books and colouring materials available. Families know that they don’t have to sit there, but that they are welcome to if it would be helpful. But the reality that was often overlooked, was that those in this space struggled to see what was going on at the front, and so they often struggled to feel engaged and involved. (ed. As a relatively short person I am aware of how often this is a problem and equally how rarely it is considered.)

A bold suggestion was proposed, to move the area from the back to the very front of church. At Holy Redeemer, all of the pews are movable so this was more possible than it would be for many churches, but it still felt risky. What if the children at the front, whilst simply being children, were too much of a distraction for everyone else?

However, we decided to risk it. And, months later, the conclusion is clear: this change has been overwhelmingly positive and has worked wonderfully well. Children are much more engaged with worship, they can see what’s going on and many adults enjoy seeing the children fully present and included in worship.

Without an inclusive approach to the physical layout of the church, Mira and many others would continue to struggle to engage fully with church.

Holy Redeemer, like all churches, is on a journey. There is still work to be done to be inclusive in every sense. But relatively small changes have already made a significant difference, not only to the life of one young girl, but to many other people too.

Recently, I was away with Mira on a Sunday morning. As Mira loves church so much, I thought that it would be a good idea to find a local church that we could attend. Doing so, however was far from straightforward. I had to look at which churches had ramps / level access and which had a layout that might work for a wheelchair user.

Whilst I am sure that the church in the local village would have been very warm and welcoming, attending was impossible as there were steps up from the road into the churchyard and a step up into the church with no ramp.

Every time we visit a new place, we have to ask whether it will be possible, and practical, for Mira to attend.

Imagine if, simply because you were you, you had to ask whether you would be welcome at church.

Imagine having to say, “I am XXXXX, will I be genuinely welcome. Will I be included or excluded?”

I am transgender. Will I be welcome at church? Will I be able to use the toilets?

We are in a same-sex relationship. Are we invited?

I have a learning disability. Will I be included?

We can’t afford to give money. Can we still be involved?

I imagine that many of us will have never needed to ask these questions. However, many people do.

As we continue to explore what it means to be an Inclusive Church together as a parish, my hope and prayer is that we learn to really listen, to learn, to put ourselves in others’ shoes to seek God’s will together, and always seek to love our neighbours, as we want to be loved.