Churches and family tree: Simon Jenkins on Accessibility

Access

Accessibility
 is the single most vexing topic among church enthusiasts. Nothing is 
more infuriating after a long drive or even longer walk than to feel the
 cold, unyielding iron of the handle of a locked door. This guide would 
be useless if readers did not feel its churches could be entered and 
enjoyed in person. I found roughly half my recommendations were open at 
reasonable times of the day and year. Most of the rest had a key at an 
easily discoverable location. Of those that were locked, most indicated 
the location of the key, though not always the presence of the 
keyholder. As a general rule I set myself a limit of half an hour to 
gain entry, with the aid of the latest siege equipment, usually 
including a car, a mobile phone and a copy of Crockford’s Clerical Directory.
 If a church resisted even such assault, I have left it out. In 
particular, a church that demands prior written notice of a visit, as if
 it were a private house, is in my book ‘not open to the public’. 

On
 this subject the Church of England is institutionally unsympathetic. 
Almost no church has a sign outside giving opening hours, which might at
 least preempt a fruitless walk to the door. Vicarage phone numbers, if 
they are publicised, are frequently on answering machines. Notices 
giving the address of the keyholder, when they exist, are often 
illegible and lack a map. I know of no diocese that publishes a list of 
opening times and keyholders’ addresses, even those, such as Lincoln, 
that produce admirable guides to their churches. (The Open Churches 
Trust does publish opening times in London.) The buildings in this book 
are all outstanding and eagerly sought by a growing band of enthusiasts.
 None should be inaccessible.

The
 customary excuse for locking a church is the threat of vandalism and 
the cost of insurance. Vandalism can be most distressing for those 
victimised. Fortification may be justified in a few inner city churches,
 though even they capitulate to vandalism far too easily. Most insurers 
do not insist on churches being locked, only on their being periodically
 supervised. In my experience, the chief difference between an 
accessible and a shut church is not its location or the value of its 
contents but the attitude of the vicar and churchwardens. Some are true 
enthusiasts who rightly regard the opening of their church as a pastoral
 and community obligation. To them and their frequent welcome, I offer 
heartfelt thanks. To a minority of vicars, sadly a substantial one, I 
and therefore the general public was a nuisance to be kept at bay.

To
 close a church is not to forestall trouble - closed churches are almost
 as vulnerable as open ones - but to let the vandal win. Churches have 
been ‘robbed’ throughout history: this was once a common reason for 
deportation to Australia. Rural England is nowadays wealthy enough to 
afford a keyholder or ‘dropper-in’, or at least the elementary courtesy 
of clearly displayed instructions on access. One effective defence, 
security cameras, is not expensive. But no security is as effective as a
 regular flow of welcomed visitors. A parish church is a church open to 
all. A church shut except for services is the private meeting house of a
 sect.

In
 return, I believe that visitors should pay. Nobody should visit and 
enjoy a church without contributing to the cost of that enjoyment. I 
cannot see why popular churches should not charge something for entry, 
as most cathedrals now do. The only churches in this list that charge 
are Stratford-upon-Avon for its chancel, and (half-heartedly) the magic 
shrine of St Clether’s Well

(Cornwall),
 where a faded 1913 notice still requests threepence to be left on the 
altar. Churches used to be less shy about asking for donations. As for 
how much to leave, I can only cite the chapel at Swell (Somerset). Even 
before the days of inflation and decimalisation, it exhorted visitors: