Models of Church: House or Ship?

There are some who are attracted to Christianity by its perceived stability. In a world that seems to be constantly in flux here is a religion that has endured 2,000 years. With traditions, rites and orders dating back centuries, with buildings made to endure, here permanence is presumed. No shifting wind or whim is going to change the Church.

One well-known hymn of my childhood was “Christ is made the Sure Foundation”. It talks about the Church being like a house, a ‘Temple’, and Christ being ‘the cornerstone’. With sure foundations of Bible and tradition, centred on Christ, the Church will be rock solid, able to withstand the storms of change and doubt.

Much of the debate in the Christian world is between those who want to reinforce the foundations, strengthen the walls, and keep foreign winds and doctrines out, and those who want to open the windows and doors to the world and be prepared to change time-honoured methods and doctrines in order to do so.

Yet many of us tire of this debate, not because the issues are unimportant, but because the model of the Church as a house is not true to our experience of God, faith, and community. A building doesn’t move. It isn’t meant to. The model assumes that the land won’t move either. It assumes that change is peripheral to community, faith, and of course God.

I prefer the model of a ship. The late Archbishop Helder Camara wrote:

Pilgrim: when your ship, long moored in harbour, gives you the illusion of being a house; when your ship begins to put down roots in the stagnant water by the quay: put out to sea! Save your boat’s journeying soul, and your own pilgrim soul, cost what it may.[i]

If one considers the Church to be more like a ship than a house, then everything changes. The Bible ceases to be a brick to fortify your structure or throw at your enemy, but is food stored for the journey. It gives you energy for the challenges before you. The traditions of the Church are like a sailor’s almanac, helping you with the little tasks, teaching the theory of steering, but not doing the work for you. God too changes. Instead of being the property overseer and the gracious host, God is the wind in your sails and the beat in your heart.

The models of house and ship also have different attitudes to leaks. I think of leaks in the Church as the things that go wrong, the plans that don’t quite work out, and the hurt people who distribute their hurt around. In a house a leak needs urgent attention. It drips on your head and can rot your walls. It needs to be repaired before your dinner guests arrive, or are even invited. In a ship, however, a leak is expected. Bilge pumps are normative. You don’t stop the ship to attend to them, unless they are very serious. Leaks are part of sailing.

Yet the biggest difference between the two models is safety. The house, even an open house, speaks of security, stability, and safety. The inhabitants know where they are, what to expect, and even who they might meet at the door. The ship, on the other hand, is heading out into unknown waters. Its occupants are on a journey. There is significant risk involved. The familiar towns and headlands are no longer there. The good old ways become more irrelevant day by day. God, faith, and community all change, and become more essential - more of your essence.

[i] Camara, D.H. A Thousand Reasons For Living, Darton, Longman and Todd, 1981, p.40.