The first book written by Paul Bayes as Bishop of Liverpool offers a radical new vision of the Church as a table, built by Jesus the carpenter and stretching down every street and into every home. At this table, everyone sits, eats, worships, agrees, and disagrees together, as equals. The Church of England used to be in "a spiritually dangerous place: cushioned by privilege, in the middle of our society and at the top." Today, however, it is more often "on the edge and underneath—marginalized, not always taken seriously, sometimes mocked." But that this is good news, because on the edge and underneath is where the people are. Equality and justice are at the heart of The Table—justice that does not come without struggle, patience, and quiet perseverance, as demonstrated by the Hillsborough families in Liverpool over the last three decades. Bishop Paul argues that a Church that knows justice and Jesus is a Church that can best accommodate our rich and diverse communities and embody the hopes of future generations.
From the first page, which gave me goosebumps, to the last, in which a discussion is made around the “undefended table”, this is a good (as in morally good) and challenging book. Of course Paul Bayes quotes Sara Miles’s “Take this bread”, and in so doing challenges the “behave, believe, belong” strategy and transforms it into “belong, believe, behave” in which people are invited to join communities of believers irrespective of their moral and philosophical standpoints (how refreshing) and are then, because they are known, loved into the kingdom. Full of “well this is how it happened in...” and steeped in biblical parallels, this is a worthy book for the shelves, and one to return to in penitence and faith, firmly resolved to keep the command to love our neighbour as ourselves, whether they are Christians or not.
I found some material here that was relevant, challenging and helpful to my ministry and my church community's life ... but it also frustrated me in places, containing what I can only inadequately describe as a 'floweryness' in language and style that I find in some theological writing by those higher in the church hierarchy ... a way of appearing to say something weighty that in fact has little substance to it. It felt as if I scratched some of this too hard, it would collapse - which frustrates me, because when I did connect with parts of this book, it touched me deeply. Ultimately helpful, but also frustrating.