Maybe I am being hopelessly naive, but I think The Church has a lot to learn from a place like this. People are always looking for a meaning to life - and Bluewater does give you a buzz. That is why people come back. The big challenge is harnessing that buzz and making sure something good comes of it. The churches that thrive are the modern ones who recognise this. They are the ones ditching some of the old traditions and giving people what they want - and those things are sometimes the most 'unchurchy' aspects.
What does God make of Bluewater? Ah, well, that is a tough one. I think God - at least God, as I understand him - would look at Bluewater and say, "That's very good".
In a creative way, it is very good. There used to be a chalk pit here, now there is a community. You can see it as a bunch of shops if you like, but I see much more. I was down by the boating lakes yesterday chatting to some of the retired men who come down here with their model boats. They aren't here for the shops.
I don't have a problem with the commercial aspect. Commerce is part of life. When God created the Garden of Eden, God said, "There is a garden - protect it and cultivate it." In other words, make it productive. Here, I'm sure God is saying, "This is your space. Look after it, and make it good."
Bluewater is a commercial business. But my hope would also be that it doesn't only concern itself with the well-being of its shareholders. It also has responsibility for these 240 acres next to the Thames, and for the people who work here, and the families that rely on it.
What excites me about Bluewater is that although it is not a religious place, it is aware of the human spirit. It may be seen to be exploiting that human spirit in the so-called rugged commercialism, but that aspect is simply a reflection of our times.
Shopping is a part of life now for the younger generations. I think we have to embrace that and work with it.
I've always advocated taking The Church to the people. Back in South Africa, I went down the mines in some of the industrial towns or I'd go into offices to meet members of my congregation for lunch.
My father - God bless his memory - taught me to believe in wholeism, the idea we are all in this together, and we should move towards each other rather than imposing rules that drag us apart.
Nowhere was that more important than in South Africa. I didn't become a minister until later in life. For the first 15 years of my working life I was a government lawyer - a petitioner, magistrate and prosecutor. It wasn't an easy time. I participated in administering a system which I sometimes found very difficult to administer.
I supported the anti-apartheid struggle, although I had difficulty with the revolutionary approach. As a white South African, I was aware of huge injustices. In time, the system became politically immoral, socially unjust and personally pernicious. I struggled with what I called the progressive distortion of the rule of law.
There were times when I refused to be involved in a case because it was against my moral principles.
The rest of the time, I tried to bring the best Christian response to a situation. If I felt a person was being unfairly treated by the system, I would prosecute in such a way that the real truth would come out. If an official tried to embellish evidence, I would declare him a hostile witness. I had my principles and I tried to stick by those.
I didn't leave the legal world because I disagreed with what I was doing; I left because I felt God wanted me to devote myself to his work.
An abhorrence of injustice and exclusion has stayed with me. I see myself as an inclusivist. I don't understand why we have to slot people into classifications and create groups that exclude people.
The Church can be as guilty of that as anyone. I tried for decades to set up an industrial mission programme in South Africa, but we never managed to shape it as we would have liked.
When the opportunity came to play that sort of role - but in Britain - it was a huge decision. I could have stayed in South Africa, and retired. Or I could start again, 6,000 miles away, but doing something that was exciting and new, and involved reaching out to those who didn't share my religious beliefs or even any religious beliefs.
Today, my remit is to care for and be alongside people - and I will do that wherever they give me access.
We can do church behind closed doors and religion behind high walls, yes. We can make it terribly difficult for people to get in. Or we can open our arms to the real world.
We can go into the workplaces, the shopping centres, and all the places where life is lived in the 21st Century. And we can embrace all colours, creeds and beliefs. It may not be church as we know it, but I really don't think God will mind.
THE Daily Mirror's centenary book, A Century Of News, published by Contender, is on sale, priced £14.99, in all good bookshops.
Britain Talking: The Shopping Mall Chaplain By Jenny Johnston (Sept 1 2003).
In this fascinating series to mark the Daily Mirror's centenary, we reveal the heart of our nation through your lives.
In the latest in our series, we talk to Rev Malcolm Cooper.
For 23 years he was a Methodist minister in South Africa but moved to Greenhithe, Kent, in 1996 to take on a very different parish - Bluewater, the largest shopping mall in Europe.
I WON'T wear my dog-collar for the pictures, if you don't mind. I don't do the 'uniform'. I'm a little uncomfortable with what happens when I do.
People see me as "the vicar", and they adapt their behaviour accordingly. They might apologise for swearing or they think I'm going to whip out a Bible and pray in the middle of John Lewis.
I just wear a suit but with a badge that says Bluewater Chaplain. Most people don't read the 'chaplain' bit though. They think I'm one of the hosts here, so they ask me where the toilet is or how to get to Miss Selfridge.
Come to think of it, I spend a lot of my time talking to people who have lost something - their car, their husband, themselves. I don't suppose that's what anyone meant by "leading your flock", is it?
But I like it. I like it when people ask me to roll my sleeves up and help them move a table. It means I am approachable and any clergyman worth his salt should be approachable.
Bluewater is my 'patch', if you like. Other ministers have churches. I still take church services when I'm invited to, but I don't have a church of my own.
And no, I don't miss it. I don't believe you need to be sitting in a pew to talk to God - you can just as easily be in Marks & Spencer.
There's folk that think places like Bluewater must be Godless places. But if we believe God is anywhere we have to believe he is everywhere.
Technically, I'm here to look after the employees of Bluewater. It's my job to make sure they have someone they can talk to about their problems.
There are nine other chaplains - drawn from all religions, creeds and denominations.
The chaplaincy is based just across from WHSmith and round the corner from Pret a Manger. Our 'parishes' are divided in terms of the malls. Someone will have responsibility for Boots and Next; someone else Jigsaw and Starbucks, and so on.
Our role is to be there if people need us. They might want to talk about problems, or spiritual matters, but they might just want to get some issues off their chest about work.
People get confused about chaplaincy. It isn't about preaching; in fact, the only rule we have is that we mustn't proselytise - try to create members or converts.
I'm a Methodist minister but no one here knows what church I'm from because it doesn't matter.
Within the chaplaincy we have a place we call The Quiet Room. Some people wanted it to be called the Prayer Room, but I thought it would put people off. People do come here to pray but there is no requirement.
I'M quite happy for them to come and sit quietly with a novel. Some people come just to sit and think. If they're having a stressful day, they might just want some time out. I've even had a man lying stretched out on the sofa while his wife shopped.
Of course, the religious aspect is there if they want it. We thought long and hard about how to do this when we were starting out, and we came to the conclusion the only way was to have all faiths represented so we have copies of the Bible, the Koran, the Torah, and so on.
In the chaplaincy we have representatives from the Anglican and Roman Catholic communities, but we also have our Muslim, Sikh, and Jewish brothers.
In the early days, one chap was brought in here because he had been found in one of the car parks doing all this up-and-down business. The guy who found him thought he was unwell, but it turned out he was praying. He was brought here and was amazed that in a retail facility - I don't like to call Bluewater a shopping centre - he could find a prayer mat, and a place to do your ritual washing.
But it shouldn't be amazing. It should be commonplace. Why should your religion and your workplace be separate? Why do people feel they have to leave their beliefs at home when they come somewhere like this?
Some people wonder what I'm doing in a place like Bluewater. In some quarters there is a belief that places like this are somehow Godless.
There was a rather uncomfortable time when Bluewater opened. One bishop declared it a Temple of Consumerism. I didn't like that approach. Yes, the building may have things that look like church steeples, but they are not. And once you start putting labels on places you are on dangerous ground.
I'm not saying Bluewater is necessarily a 'clean' place, but it is a place where the human community meets, and where there is humanity, there is God. The clerical community ignores that at its peril. Some of my brothers and sisters in the clergy do not agree with me. Some believe I am sleeping with the enemy by working here. Others, thankfully, share my view.
