wfn.org | The Ashe Lecture for 1997

[Audrey Whitefield <a.whitefield@quest.org.uk>]

Oct. 21, 1997
ANGLICAN COMMUNION NEWS SERVICE
Canon Jim Rosenthal, Director of Communications
Anglican Communion Office
London, England

[97.10.3.6]

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The Way Ahead:Preparing the Church of England for the New Millennium

The Ashe Lecture for 1997
Given by the Archbishop of Canterbury
St Helen's Church, Ashby-de-la-Zouch
13 October 1997

In less than a thousand days we shall celebrate the beginning of the
year 2000 AD. That event will no doubt be marked by many different moods
and emotions; but its true significance, and the reason for our
celebrations, lies in the letters `AD', Anno Domini, the year of our
Lord. In that brief phrase the story of a remarkable man called Jesus, a
carpenter from Nazareth, is made the hinge of history. The calendar we
have inherited declares that the crucified, risen and reigning Christ is
the only King whose reign we measure across the centuries.

Beyond that date, beckons a new millennium, into which our Church and
all Churches must step. What kind of world is this likely to be and what
kind of Church are we shaping for that future which is so unknown and
uncertain? Looking to that future, then, I want to consider tonight the
way ahead for the Church of England by exploring three key themes :
confidence, mission and unity.

First then, the Confidence of the Church in an Age of Change. In this
country, as in most of northern Europe, we face a major missionary
challenge. We must be realistic: contemporary society is, in significant
ways, hostile to traditional Christian belief and Christian values,
however frequently we see God's grace at work in those who do not
acknowledge him. To face this challenge we must begin with a right
theology of God. Confidence without God is merely whistling in the dark;
a wistful hope for a better tomorrow. A confident faith is nurtured in a
theological vision of the power of God; facile pessimism is bad
theology! Two hundred years ago Samuel Butler, Bishop of Bristol
declined the Prime Minister's offer to be Archbishop of Canterbury on
the grounds that there is `no hope for this failing Church'. How wrong
he was.  We are still here and we might well contrast that pessimistic
statement with the optimism of another Bishop Butler, Tom Butler,
today's Bishop of Leicester who, in a book jointly written with his
wife, wrote: `We have a vision of a world renewed for God by God, and as
we proceed on our journey of faith we, from time to time, are granted
glimpses of the promised land which confirm for us that our journey is
no wish dream but the most important thing in life or death'.

Again we must return to the significance of the letters `AD'. The Church
is not in the business of keeping a Church organisation going but in
bearing witness to Jesus Christ. Christ crucified; Christ risen from the
dead; Christ ascended in glory. And that is why Christians are
incorrigibly hopeful people - or, at least, why we should be. Just as
Samuel Johnston could confess that it was impossible for him to be a
true philosopher because cheerfulness kept breaking through, so the
faithful followers of Jesus Christ find faith, hope and love piercing
the uncertainty and fragility of life and changing the way we see the
future. Karl Rahner, that great Roman Catholic theologian and ecumenist,
wrote  of God's love for humanity: `If the Church were to develop into a
merely humanitarian concern it would be betraying its responsibility
because its task is to proclaim to human beings the ultimate seriousness
and incomprehensible dignity of this love for human beings'. Love
expressed, not through words alone, nor in bursts of special activity,
but in consistent self-giving taken to the ultimate. W.H. Vanstone's
magnificent hymn says it well:

Therefore he who shows us God
helpless hangs upon the tree;
and the nails and crown of thorns
tell us of what God's love must be'

This is the bedrock of faith and the inspiration of Christianity. And it
was that thought of the awesomeness of God's love and its profound
effects on people down the centuries that led the youthful C. S. Lewis
to faith. In 1925 he paid a visit to Salisbury Cathedral. Seeing the
slender spire some fifteen miles away and then, a short time later,
visiting the impressive building, Lewis wrote: `What impressed was the
force of mind, the thousands of tons of masonry held in place by an
idea, a religion; buttress, window, acres of carving, the very lifeblood
of man's work, all piled there, and gloriously useless from the side of
base utility for which we alone build now'.

If that confidence in God must permeate and envision our thinking, the
claims of the gospel of Christ must mark the work of our Church. And
here I accept an opportunity to say a word or two in defence of the
Church I represent. I have never denied the fact that statistics show
numerical decline. It is clearly the case that more people attended
Anglican worship sixty years ago than they do today; it is impossible to
deny that we had more serving clergy in the 1950s than now. Such facts
may haunt and distress hard-pressed clergy and congregations who feel
that in spite of all they do the spectre conjured up in Matthew Arnold's
poem Dover Beach dooms all to futility. You may remember his sad lines
about the bleak prospect of the `melancholy, long withdrawing roar' of
the sea of faith. What is often forgotten is that Arnold was speaking,
not so much about the decline of religion in itself, as the fact that
once faith is lost everything is ultimately futile. Nothing permanent
remains and no sure guides remain; all we can cling to is human love.
Arnold trembles for the human family bereft of certain hope in God. So
he writes:

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! For the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night'.

It may seem an extraordinary poem to write on one's honeymoon - which he
did - leaving us with a picture of the terrifying implications of loss
of faith. But in fact, despite smaller numbers, that faith is very much
alive. Perhaps Arnold, unorthodox Anglican that he was, would be
surprised that Christianity, nearly 150 years on, is still well rooted
in this land and that his Church, the Established Church, is still here,
vigorous, outward looking and confident in a God who, in spite of the
ebbs and flows of life, equips his Church to face change.

Let me then follow the apostolic example of St. Paul who in 2
Corinthians 11 boasts of his trophies in Christ and let me list some of
ours. All the other Christian Churches have their own distinctive
treasures, which I value and honour as a fellow Christian, but it does
us no harm to remember our own special contribution also. There are
still 16,000 parish Churches in England where the praises of God are
sung; where faithful congregations lovingly maintain time honoured stone
and fabric. In every diocese there are churches which are growing
numerically, some of them rapidly.  In every diocese too there are many
churches in which the faith is being effectively communicated, joyfully
celebrated, and lived out quietly in a spirit of true sacrifice.

Nearly 10,000 stipendiary priests live in our parishes, assisted by
2,000 non stipendiary priests and 9,000 licensed Readers. Indeed when
you add in the many serving through chaplaincies, and those who remain
very active in retirement, the total of those involved in one of these
ministries comes to more than 23,000. In addition, we have over 1,000
people in training for the ordained ministry and this year ordination
figures are up by 15 per cent. The Church of England's parishes cover
every inch of England. Indeed, it is a remarkable fact that we have more
clergy now in the urban areas than we had ten years ago, and those
clergy do actually live in their communities, unlike many of the other
professionals who work in them.

Ten years ago the Church of England committed itself to expanding its
urban presence through Faith in the City and the Church Urban Fund; an
initiative which has fuelled over 1,000 urban projects, often carried
through in partnership with other local agencies, Churches and faith
groups. We have nearly 5,000 Church of England schools, that is more
than a fifth of all state schools, serving 12.5% of all children
educated in the public sector in England. This Church is still committed
to the Decade of Evangelism and seeking ways to be an outward looking,
positive Church at the heart of our nation. We make by far the greatest
financial contribution to support ecumenism in this country. All these
suggest that confidence is not just a desirable goal to aim for but is
something that is already present and is being actively expressed.

And our capacity for reform and self-renewal has been demonstrated again
and again. Profound changes in patterns of ministry. The empowerment of
lay people. Burgeoning numbers of non-stipendiary ministers. Reforms in
the Church Commissioners and our national institutions. The ordination
of thousands of women to the diaconate and priesthood. Dynamic
evangelising initiatives and church-planting. The Church of England is
on the move, trusting not in our own capacities alone but in the radical
power of God's Holy Spirit. These are God's trophies. They are worth
extolling now and again because there will be some gainsayers who are
only interested in telling bad news about the Church. There are times
when quite properly it is needful to celebrate what God is doing through
our Church, the Church of England. No Church, any more than a secular
institution or business, can prosper if it is not confident in its being
and prepared to meet the changes that lie ahead. We are not complacent,
but we are confident because we trust in God.

If confidence is my first word, mission must be my second : the Mission
of the Church in an Age of Challenge. The pace of change in our world
has accelerated dramatically. Economic, social and cultural changes are
sweeping across the globe. Some of these, like the fall of totalitarian
Communism and Apartheid, bring hope. Continuing wars, injustice, poverty
and environmental devastation, are profoundly discouraging. But my key
point for now is that religion and the search for a deeper spirituality
has not been left behind by the many changes going on. There is no sign
of the demise of religion in the world at large. Even in Western Europe,
the decline in formal religious observance clearly does not imply
wholesale abandonment of belief in the religious and spiritual
significance of life. Some are, of course, hostile or indifferent, but I
discern a continuing deep respect these days for the Churches when the
faith is practised with sincerity; something of which we saw in the
humbling, astonishing reaction to the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.

Of course, flowers, messages and the spontaneous outpouring of grief do
not by themselves indicate an implicit spirituality. But it was
noticeable how many makeshift shrines appeared.  And as well as the
flowers piling up outside Buckingham Palace and St. James' Palace, they
were taken in vast quantities to our cathedrals and parish churches. 
Hundreds of churches had special services for Diana; thousands of people
came to light candles in her memory. York Minster, I am told, sold
15,000 candles that week. Together with other clergy I mingled with the
crowds outside Westminster Abbey the evening before the funeral service
and listened to people speak freely of their hopes and fears, their
beliefs and their doubts, in terms that penetrated beyond the surface of
things to the meaning of life and death.

Moreover, millions of people, thanks to the media, were able to
participate in the service itself. They were grateful for the great
Abbey that provided an accessible, inclusive and yet distinctively
religious setting in which to place their collective memories, sorrows
and thanks. The perspective it gave of the loving, self-giving God who
gives light to the world felt to millions of people, many of whom may
not have gone to a church service in years, a fitting and satisfying
perspective in which to pay their last respects and bid her goodbye.
They were able to come together in faith,  hope and love to that House
of God. Yet many of them would not see themselves as belonging to the
Church.

If I am right in painting a picture of a society not antagonistic to
faith but in many cases distant from the claims of organised religion,
what does this have to say to us about the `way ahead' in Mission as we
enter this new Millennium?

As I suggested a moment ago, I believe we need to pay more attention to
the spiritual needs of our day. What did William Temple mean when he
said long ago: `The Church of England is dying of good taste?' He would
not have argued against the excellence of our choral traditions any more
than I would, but I believe he was addressing the urgent need to have
forms of liturgy which connect with the wide variety of people who make
up our nation. The funeral service for Princess Diana had all the
dignity and beauty that we associate with Westminster Abbey but the Dean
also had the courage to listen to what people were longing for in the
midst of their shock, and grief, and pain. Elton John in a Cathedral
funeral service seemed before the event an extraordinary element. All
credit to the approach which can embody such an element where it felt
natural and where it evoked such emotions in a way that nothing else
could have done.

It was also clear up and down the country that many people wanted to
participate in rituals such as the lighting of candles, the laying of
wreaths and silent prayer, through which they could express their
longings, their searchings and supplications on their own terms and in
their own way. The many churches which offered themselves generously and
sensitively for these purposes were building bridges between people's
innate spiritual needs and the life of the Church.  I hope many will
take this much further, in imaginative new ways. We must make more space
for people to open their hearts to God and express themselves - and not
be content simply to offer our own established rituals on a
take-it-or-leave-it basis.(cont'd nextnote)