Communion from the hands of the tailored and the track-suited

There was a glint in his eye. I couldn’t quite tell if it was a tear or a smile. He grinned, put his coffee down on the table and said: “As a teenager, it was the most special thing about church every Sunday.”

We’d been talking about life on estate churches.

Despite his middle-class background, his church had been a rich tapestry of classes and cultures. It was an example of a church that defied the world’s attempts to draw those within it apart.