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We offer daily services and a cultural programme of talks, events and concerts. We seek to be a welcoming space for people to reflect, create and debate
Tuesday 1 September – end of October
Losing Identity explores the silent grief and resilience of women fleeing Ethiopia and Eritrea across the Mediterranean Sea in unsafe, overcrowded boats.
The Sunday Forum is an open online group, that runs parallel to the coffee after the service, from 12.30pm to 1pm on a Sunday, open to all.
St James’s hosts inclusive services and a cultural programme. We seek to be a welcoming space for people to reflect, create and debate.
St James’s is a place to explore, reflect, pray, and support all who are in need. We are a Church of England parish in the Anglican Communion.
We host a year-round creative programme encompassing music, visual art and spoken word.
We offer hospitality to people going through homelessness and speak out on issues of injustice, especially concerning refugees, asylum, racial justice, and LGBTQ+ issues.
St James’s strives to advocate for earth justice and to develop deeper connections with nature.
We aim to be a place where you can belong. We have a unique history, and the beauty of our building is widely known. Our community commits to faith in action: social and environmental justice; creativity. and the arts
We strive to be a Eucharist-centred, diverse and inclusive Christian community promoting life in abundance, wellbeing and dignity for all.
St James’s Piccadilly has been at the heart of its community since 1684. We invite you to play your part in securing this historic place for generations to come.
It costs £5,000 each day to keep the doors of St James’s open to all who already need us.
A reimagined St James’s realised. A redesigned garden, courtyard and new building capacity—all fully accessible— will provide beautiful spaces for all as well as improving our environmental performance.
Whether shooting a blockbuster TV series or creating a unique corporate event, every hire at St James’s helps our works within the community.
St James's Church 197 Piccadilly London W1J 9LL
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In the second part of his series on sanctuary, Brian Curnew reflects on the enduring power of the Christian faith, drawing on Ghana’s history of slavery and the message of the cross to ask how Jesus sees each of us.
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (Mark’s Gospel ch1.v1)
“These are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (John’s Gospel, ch.20.v31).
It never ceases to astound me that despite the ravages of Christian history somehow and repeatedly people see beyond them to a truth that beckons us.
I was in Ghana, some forty years ago now. My hosts took me to the coastal fortresses from which millions were transported in chattel slavery to the Americas. I saw the tunnels though which people like my own dear hosts were put on boats with no rear view of the land they were leaving, by people from the land from which I came. The grief of it.
Yet somehow out of this have come faithful followers of Jesus. Subjected to indignity, degradation and inhumanity by owners and their reps who said they were themselves Christians, somehow from this has flowed over time a diverse, deeply humane, profoundly Christian stream, to the spirituality and witness of which we are all debtors.
Like our four gospel books, like our whole New Testament, this has found its origin – dare one simply say? – in the cross of Jesus.
What I’ve written about Ghana could be multiplied over and over in the story of especially Western Christianity, in the intricate weave of history, colonial, missionary, military, mercantile, histories in which motives have been very mixed, so many people have been exploited and suffered. But somehow, and we may think despite all, the gospel of Jesus Christ has found its way into hearts and minds. Can this be explained except by a pull beyond all that seems to compromise its truth? ‘You can only fool people so much of the time’.
Chine McDonald in her book “God is not a White Man’ writes that, as she was studying theology in the UK, she never heard it acknowledged that their studies were incomplete because they were only looking through the lens of while Europeans. The point: how much many of us have to learn from that majority of Christians who are neither white nor European.
Now might we put it another way round, and dare to ask: ‘how does Jesus see any of us?’ At this point, isn’t it simple? Isn’t it each of us, in our simple, unadorned, humanity?
I remember a saying, I can’t remember from where, that a monarch has just one image which is reproduced on all coins; but the image of God is different every time. Neither does difference of culture, origin, ethnicity, of human wealth or standing affect its equal value.
Which may take us back to the cross of Jesus, and its appeal.
St Paul in his New Testament letters reflects a great deal on the death of Jesus on the cross, on its meaning, and that of the resurrection.
Holding it together is his repeated meditation on ‘the body of Christ’, which clearly and intimately links Jesus’ words at the Last Supper, “this is my body”, his crucifixion, the Holy Communion in which we share, and ourselves as ’the body of Christ’ of which we are all parts, valued and valuable.
He writes of mutual caring: “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it” (I Corinthians 12.26). And of shared honour : “if one member is honoured, all rejoice together with it”.
Paul also expresses his conviction that the cross of Jesus ‘has broken every barrier down’: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3.28).
So, how does Jesus see any of us?
This may seem to be straying from the subject of sanctuary, and from focus on those among us who are refugees. But surely our view must altogether begin with our sense of who any of us are before God? of what touches me, and what in that case what touches you in my sight? – aware as I may become of my shortfall, and how much there is I have to learn, and that being the case, from whom?
Next time, more specifically on Sanctuary.