WEAVING in and out of seemingly endless rows of houses, the pathways and roadways of the Wythenshawe Estate are typical of a garden-city development planned before mass car ownership.
It is true that Wythenshawe has seen difficult times, has been paraded as a bad example, continues to suffer from significant and crippling levels of poverty, and through media representations, as diverse Wythenshawe has had more than its fair share of attention.
For some, the seemingly constant external jibes and pressures of significant poverty have hardened lives to a core survival. For others, the crucible of this estate and its history and culture have nurtured creative, resilient, and exemplary lives of service and hope.
The Church of England shares this unsettled history — as do most of the remaining denominations on the estate. As the different building phases of the estate developed, so incredible church buildings were erected with iconic architecture, bold confidence, and almost brash optimism.
The Wythenshawe Anglican Team Ministry was one of the first in Manchester diocese, and one of the largest, with a team rector, three team vicars, five churches, and a cure of nearly 70,000 souls. Despite their impressive architecture and impressive structural set-up, the churches in Wythenshawe all face acute difficulties of numbers, finance, and capacity.
This ministerial presence is fragile. The lack of long-term financial support is a constant weariness to those who, through their passion, compassion, and faith, keep this work going. It is not unknown for projects — nearly always around food, hospitality, and companionship — to rely solely on one-off grant funding, which is usually identified and obtained by the quick-thinking and deft skill of one or two people. The matching of such grants by the churches themselves is impossibly difficult, though by the grace and mercy of God, the miracles do happen.
MANCHESTER’s cotton and textile history is less visible in the landscape of Wythenshawe than in older parts of the city, where the mills still pepper the area. But this cultural memory is strong and important. At a quiet afternoon on the theme of vulnerability and resilience, a number of activities were planned between the times of silence and the talks.
One of these activities was very popular: a small weave no larger than a postcard. Those present were given a cardboard loom with the warp threads already prepared, and through this the weaver threaded wools of various colours to create a small weave. Each weft contained prayerful, meditative silence to create a textured pattern as a reminder of the quiet day.
The nature of the warp and weft which combined to create a woven material reflects the ways in which our community brought together the givenness — the warp of the built environment and the ingrained perceptions of the place — with the creative interaction of the weft — the ebb and flow of life, working itself around the environment, creating vitality and enrichment.
WHAT was initially intended as a short activity for one afternoon became much more. Those present went home and spent a lot of time and care completing their mini weaves. The pride contained within them was not simply of a created piece, but of a shared journey with intentional prayers, reflections, hopes, and dreams.
What if the weave was not just the work of one person, but of a larger community? What might that mean theologically, and what might it tell us about the church’s vocation?
The loom in the shopping centre
Thus the Wythenshawe Weave project was born. Armed with an extra-large frame, we took our loom to all the local churches, and then right into the heart of the town centre, inviting anyone who wanted to weave their story, hopes, and fears into the Wythenshawe Weave.
Our work alongside the people of Wythenshawe’s garden city was extremely conscious of narrative; of how individual stories relate to wider family and friendship groups; of how local experience enlarges, critiques, and contradicts national policy; and of how the message of the gospel both emerges from and connects with day-to-day life in a parish.
Christians, as William Temple wrote, have a distinctive responsibility to act as agents of transformation, pursuing freedom, fellowship, and service: “the three principles of a Christian social order, derived from the still more fundamental Christian postulates that man is a child of God and is destined for a life of eternal fellowship with him”.
The Wythenshawe project celebrated such a vision while developing a slightly sharper focus on pneumatology and culture. The “ordinariness” of culture is already an arena where the Holy Spirit is at work, and where the risen Christ awaits us in one another.
As well as working with faithful members of the parish and ecumenical partners, our attention was intentionally focused on what went on beyond the church walls, set at a table in the middle of a shopping centre, asking questions about people’s day-to-day experiences, and how the church might serve them better.
Fortuitously, the Wythenshawe Weave project was beginning just as we were having conversations about theological method. The metaphor of reweaving arose quite naturally as a response both to the conversations we were having locally, and out of a concern to narrate theologically and faithfully what we were encountering with Christians in the parish.
This language avoids a sense of external imposition in an arena where the Holy Spirit is already at work, while also taking seriously the vocation of the church as sign and servant of God’s design for the world.
There are hundreds of individual strands that make up the Wythenshawe Weave. When the loom was transported to the various locations around the community, we invited people to answer three simple questions as they wove their story into the communal artwork.
Three questions arose in conversation with the wider Estates Theology Group, which we decided to pose to each participant: What do you love about this place? What gives you grief here? What can the church be for you here?
We noticed that responses could often be grouped under Trinitarian themes of creation, redemption, and sanctification.
Creation: What do you love about this place?
TO THIS first question, most people replied with comments about the wider community and place of Wythenshawe. A few people spoke in a more focused way about the churches themselves. But by far the strongest response, both in number and in depth of feeling, was about the people of Wythenshawe and their sense of community and relationship.
Some simply wrote “community” or “people”, but many clarified this by explaining the kindness of others, the spirit of residents, and the readiness of people to support and watch out for one another, to talk and to listen.
The responses did not duck the challenges of Wythenshawe, but were framed through the eyes of hope, with a love for the experience of living here. One wrote of what they love about this place: “the people: through all the ups and downs, the spirit prevails”.
Redemption: What gives you grief here?
ONCE again, the replies to this question were weighted more toward people than place: relationships, and the tensions, challenges, and anger of living in close community featured sharply. By far the largest concern centred on the perception of crime within the community. For some this was predominantly focused on violent crime and drugs; for others it was burglary or vandalism.
Underpinning most of it was an element of fear, sadness, or anger at anti-social behaviour. The fear of crime is not only linked to the loss of personal belongings, but it also affects security, well-being, and the freedom to live safely in the community. At the heart of many of comments was a longing for expressions of human dignity, especially when the prejudice, anger, or jealousy of a group — no matter how small — seems to undermine that dignity.
Sanctification: What can the church be for you here?
THE third of our questions elicited the greatest variety of answers, including the response that the church is and ought to be a community of love and friendship. Some people described this community as a family and a place of companionship — relationships being key to the local church’s values — and one respondent simply wrote, “Warm!” followed by the name of one of the parish churches which has suffered for decades from seriously inadequate heating!
The Weave being made in the community
The church’s reputation as a place of warmth and community clearly enabled its place in the very real concerns to “fight isolation, support unemployment [and] create well-being”.
The theme of the church as a place of relationship was developed by many who described it in what we might think of as spiritual or theological terms: a “refuge”, “a safe place”, “a rock”, “a place of peace”, and somewhere that will always be there “when we need it”. As such, the church — whether a building or its people — was described as much more than a social centre for social needs, and evidently held a particular place in sanctifying and resourcing the spiritual and emotional needs of the community.
There was much interest expressed in the everyday provision of the church’s practical ministry through the help, support, and signposting offered to the community. Mention was made of the church’s breakfast clubs and social groups, and as a place to find support and information when in need (“Help find me a flat”). A couple of responses indicated the church was “a place to breathe when we need somewhere else to get away from home”, and a “place of hope” where they could “share any worries without judgement”.
The majority of these answers articulate a form of longing, for home, space, warmth and safety. They draw their energy and hope from a vision beyond the demands and repeated patterns of everyday life.
THE Wythenshawe Weave contains five solitary scarlet threads. At the end of the weaving project, these threads were identified to be added to the final product, representing the five wounds of the crucified Christ. From start to finish, the entire weaving project was approached democratically and openly — and yet the congregation asked the priests of the parish to weave in these wounds.
A critic might argue that this reveals a kind of clericalism at the heart of the church’s life here — but anyone who knows the place knows better. The clergy are frequently those who are visible recognisable representatives of what the church stands for and seeks. They are those who bury the dead, comfort the sick, broker healing in angry relationships. Above all, they celebrate the sacraments of baptism and eucharist, preaching reconciliation in a culture where all too frequently life can seem a zero-sum game.
Many of those who participated in the Weave asked what would become of it. That it would be displayed in William Temple Church was a source of pride and pleasure for many who would not regard themselves as regulars. Many of those we spent time with during this project were not practising Christians. Many of them found it moving to know that this weave would find its home in their community’s holy place. But for those faithful members of the church, the placing of the tapestry behind the altar was deeply symbolic of the church’s particular vocation in society.
Our open invitation to Wythenshawe’s residents to contribute a thread to the Weave was an act of solidarity which enabled deep and careful listening. In due course, there is a danger that the Wythenshawe Weave will become just a memento of a past project. But it would certainly be the hope that the Weave’s presence in the Transfiguration Chapel continues to do two things.
First, that it symbolises the ongoing silent intercession for each and every person and story represented within the piece of art. Second, those involved with this project of partnership with a diverse local community hope that the theological methodology symbolised by the Weave and its conversations might help to shift the dial on wider conceptions of mission and evangelism.
This is a vision of embedded, committed parish life which relearns the gospel through engagement with those around and seemingly outside it. It is for the wider Church to celebrate this, and to honour those ordinary people who have refreshed our vision and taught us again to look for the New Jerusalem.
This is an edited extract from Finding the Treasure: Good news from the estates;
Reflections from the Church of England Estates Theology Project, edited by A. l. Barrett. Published by SPCK at £12.99 (Church Times Bookshop £11.69); 978-0-281-08805-8.