St. Paul’s Tervuren: A sweet little church

At the Anglican church of St. Paul’s Tervuren, Christians come together to worship Christ… although, on closer examination, there may be another deity competing for their attention.

Some churches are renowned for their preaching. Others for their worship bands, youth work or outreach programmes.

St. Paul’s Tervuren? Food.

Indeed, it is tempting to conclude that St. Paul’s Tervuren has quietly adopted Saint Epicurus, patron saint of good eating, as their second patron. Or perhaps Bacchus has been hanging around the vestry.

The week begins on Sunday morning with the church prayer meeting. And what better way to prepare for prayer than by stuffing themselves with croissants, pain au chocolat, marzipan croissants, almond croissants and whatever other irresistible Belgian pastries have mysteriously appeared on the table?

Having suitably fortified themselves spiritually – and considerably more so physically – members proceed to the main church building for the service.

But don’t worry.

They’ll soon be back for the cakes.

After the service, there are opportunities for tea, coffee and a magnificent selection of goodies. And on some occasions, things become even more serious: lunch!

Clearly, the early Christians were onto something when they devoted themselves to “the breaking of bread”. St. Paul’s has simply taken the concept rather further.

The worship continues throughout the month

On other days, there is a coffee morning, where folk gather around a table groaning under the weight of sweet treats.

There is something profoundly spiritual about standing in front of a plate of homemade cake, contemplating whether taking a second slice constitutes gluttony or simply Christian fellowship.

And then there are the occasions when the St. Paul’s Vicar, Dominic, reveals his true spiritual gifts.

Preaching? No.

Pastoral ministry? Not quite.

Cooking.

At his famous Desserts Evening, Dominic demonstrates his impressive French culinary skills, presenting us with such delights as crème brûlée, tarte tatin, éclairs, madeleines, mille-feuille … sometimes enough to sustain a small monastery.

It is difficult not to wonder whether his theological training included a module in French patisserie.

And then there is evangelism…

Of course, St. Paul’s Tervuren takes the Great Commission seriously.

They are committed to spreading the Good News and bringing their friends into the fellowship.

But rather than simply telling them about Jesus, St. Paul’s has developed a much more effective strategy.

They feed them.

“Bring a friend to one of our culinary teaching sessions and discover the true meaning of fellowship while learning about Japanese cooking or French macarons.”

It is evangelism with a whisk.

Mission with a mixing bowl.

Outreach with an oven.

And who knows? By the end of the evening your friend may not have encountered Jesus, but they will certainly have encountered Saint Epicurus.

A sweet church indeed

These are just some of the culinary delights on offer at St. Paul’s.

There is prayer. There is worship. There is fellowship. There is mission.

And, above all, there is food.

So if you are looking for a church where you can nourish your soul, strengthen your Christian fellowship and simultaneously put on several kilograms, St. Paul’s could be the place for you.

Come for the worship.

Stay for the fellowship.

And keep an eye on the cake table.

It is, quite literally, a very sweet church to attend.

A little food for thought…

Of course, all this culinary fellowship raises one or two rather awkward questions. What about those who are trying to lose weight, watching their sugar intake or simply struggling to resist the temptation of yet another slice of cake? Is it entirely fair to surround them with an irresistible selection of pastries at every church gathering? The church may preach self-discipline, yet provides a regular obstacle course of buttercream and chocolate. And what of those who politely accept a second helping because refusing might seem unsociable? Perhaps the fellowship is occasionally doing more to expand waistlines than to strengthen spiritual lives.

Then there are those with coeliac disease, gluten intolerance, lactose intolerance, allergies or other dietary restrictions. A special cake may be thoughtfully provided, but does the recipient then feel obliged to eat it, perhaps even the whole slice, lest the baker feel disappointed? And if no suitable alternative is available, are they left watching everyone else enjoy the treats, feeling rather like spectators at a feast to which they have not quite been invited? Good hospitality should surely make people feel welcome without making them feel obliged to eat.

And finally, there is the slightly more uncomfortable question of excess. Jesus had plenty to say about greed, wealth and our responsibilities towards those in need. Meanwhile, churches quite rightly encourage us to care about poverty and famine. There is nothing wrong with enjoying food together, of course, and a shared meal can be a wonderful expression of generosity. But perhaps we should occasionally pause between the croissants and the crème brûlée to ask whether our enthusiasm for culinary fellowship is balanced by an equally enthusiastic concern for those who have too little to eat. Could some of the energy, money and attention devoted to feeding ourselves also be directed towards feeding others?

So, by all means, visit St. Paul’s Tervuren and enjoy their cakes, croissants and culinary adventures. (And afterwards, visit Tervuren Park!). Celebrate the fellowship they can bring. But perhaps also remember that genuine Christian hospitality is not measured by the quantity of food on the table. It is measured by whether everyone feels welcome, whether individual needs are respected, and whether our generosity extends beyond the church hall. 

After all, the real test of a sweet church is not how sweet its cakes are, but how thoughtfully it treats the people who come through its doors. And as someone who has been very closely associated with St. Paul’s Tervuren over the years (I used to teach the children in the Sunday School and produced the monthly newsletter), I have to admit to a lack in these areas.