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Think for a moment of the landscape of this country. Yes, there are mountains in some parts and lakes too, but perhaps what conjures it up most is where people meet the land – rolling fields and a village, say. The chances are that amid the buildings there will be a tower or a steeple. For churches are integral to village communities – and urban neighbourhoods too – and have been for generations. Yet in the past decade, 3,500 churches have closed and according to a new study by the National Churches Trust, hundreds more are at risk of closing their doors for good.

The story of closure is so often about money – money to mend the roof, to deal with the damp, to cope with crumbling foundations. Congregations which fund churches’ upkeep are shrinking. The National Churches Trust is calling for government funds to help, more professional expertise to help congregations and encouraging tourism to these often beautiful, historic buildings.

When a church closes for good, it’s not only the people who attend Sunday service whose lives are affected but the whole neighbourhood’s. For at a time when faith is said to be declining and society is more and more atomised, local churches have carved out a role for themselves to counter that atomisation – by housing the foodbank, hosting after-school activities, and housing nurseries. There is even more to them, though, than effectively becoming a community centre.

I realised their impact last year after many churches opened their doors to run what were called Warm Hubs – where people could go if high bills meant they couldn’t afford to heat their own homes. Yet as the weather got warmer many churches continued offering coffees, teas and meals. Organisers I talked to around the country said the same thing: much as people appreciated the warmth, they relished the company even more. Churches identified a crisis bigger than high fuel bills: a crisis of loneliness, of belonging. It seemed to me that the people who ran the churches were inspired to offer hospitality – this was their way of sharing their particular faith – and it was a way of embracing their whole community, regardless of others’ beliefs.

Now, according to the National Churches Trust, more of that hospitality is under threat for want of cash to repair the stonework, or a grant to fix a boiler. If a church building, so much a part of its neighbourhood for so long, closes its doors, it not only means goodbye to a place to pray, to a building lovingly built by previous generations and full of beauty. It also means farewell to a very special form of fellowship.

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