Sunday Assembly

I’ve been to church a couple of times: High Anglican, Catholic, even Quaker prayer meetings (long story). I’ve never been to a church quite like Sunday Assembly, however, because it’s not really a “church”. In fact, it has nothing to do with Christianity or religion, because it’s for atheists.

The Nave at St Paul’s is a huge deconsecrated church which seems to be in the process of being re-built and/or demolished, and is next door to a tiny church which has absolutely not been deconsecrated and which was in the middle of a more conventional Sunday service. This led to a mild case of panic on my part, as I contemplated having to ask a pastor, “Which way to the atheists, please?” Thankfully there was a woman giving directions and everyone who was supposed to be non-worshipping this morning made it inside the right building. There were far more non-worshippers than anyone expected. I tried to figure out if any of them were a) reporters or b) anti-atheist gatecrashers without much success, especially as once the chairs had been filled up, people started sitting on benches down the sides of the room, on the floor, on the balcony and on their friends.

The whole idea of Sunday Assembly is to “live better, learn often, wonder more” by bringing together atheists (I am shamelessly paraphrasing here because my memory is poor) into some sort of community where good things might and should happen. Led by Sanderson Jones who was the kind-of preacher/compere (“Thanks for being here tonight!”), and supported by a fantastic house band (guitar, drums, bass and, more esoterically, oboe, glockenspiel and maracas) and Pippa Evans (a comedian I saw on TV once or twice, but who is even more brilliant than I remember), we were treated to hits including singing the Oasis classic Don’t Look Back In Anger (“another of our favourite hymns!”), Sanderson’s frenetic interludes, and Pippa’s anecdote about drunk men being tasered on the Moscow underground system.  The misses, apart from a turn by children’s author Andy Stanton (part-banal, part-bizarre, wholly uninspiring), were harder to pinpoint, but there was definitely something missing.

Okay, so half the congregation stood like statues instead of singing along with everyone else, and some were a tad unfriendly and cliquey, but these are teething problems, I reckon. I think what was really bugging me was that it wasn’t exactly clear what we were doing there, or what we were supposed to get out of it. The singing was fun, and I laughed a fair bit, but everyone was at pains to point out that it was not a comedy show, and no-one had said it was meant to be an atheist social. Although I didn’t know what to expect when I arrived, I think I was hoping that Sunday Assembly might be some way to show people that atheists are not morality-starved, depraved, devil-worshipping idiots, but ordinary people who behave decently and do good things not because religion inculcates in them a duty to do so, but because of their love for human beings and the world (which, as Sanderson pointed out, is perhaps stronger because we believe that this life and world is all we have, and that there will be no hereafter).  If I had been brave enough to ask around and find out why people had turned up, I’m guessing there would have been as many reasons as people, so without a clear purpose for such a diverse range of views, I’m not sure exactly what Sunday Assembly represents.

Nevertheless, I hope Evans and Jones continue with it. I had an interesting, fun and surprisingly inspiring hour in their company, and would really really really like to go back and hear Lucy Porter speak on 3rd February, but unfortunately I’m working. Also their slogan is way cooler than the British Humanists' one and Pippa is a bazillion times funnier than Dawkins, so you'll have a good time if nothing else.