“YOUR voice is not small: it just needs to be heard” was the empowering advice of the Duchess of Sussex to a conference in the United States earlier this year. A recent conference that considered the public legitimacy of the Church of England, and was organised by the McDonald Centre for Theology, Ethics, and Public Life and the Centre for Cultural Witness at Pusey House, Oxford (News, 14 June), prompted some thoughts about the way in which the Church might find or lose its voice.
One way for the Church to lose its voice is by suppression. If what we have to say is regarded as sufficiently outside mainstream opinion, then we may simply be shut down, “no-platformed”, or — in a characteristically British way — just quietly sidelined.
In the view of Canon Mark Chapman, in his address to the conference, “to be able to continue in its position of privilege . . . the Church may well have to work much harder to be seen to represent public opinion”. Conversely, if the Church persists in opposing causes such as same-sex marriage, it will “lose a significant public voice”.
I HAVE no intention of stepping into that particular minefield on this occasion, except to say that there is another way in which the Church might lose its voice. This is not by suppression, but by absorption: what the Church has to say might become — perhaps is becoming — so similar to the prevailing noise around that it can no longer be heard because it does not have any distinctive quality.
This latter path was suggested by the renowned historian and podcaster Tom Holland. “What does the Church of England do?” he asked. “Does it affirm its distinctively Protestant character . . . the notion that (it) is true to God’s purposes, or does it dissolve itself into the kind of broader, secular mush that is the current orthodoxy of how our society should organise itself?”
Mr Holland’s suspicion that it is “opting for the latter course” was perhaps most clearly confirmed during the Covid pandemic, in which, by and large, church leaders were content to echo the mantras of the secular State — “Stay at home; protect the NHS; save lives” — rather than come up with any more distinctive take on what was occurring. Post hoc does not necessarily equal propter hoc, but some disastrous mission statistics have certainly followed from this particular course of action.
Should we be more concerned about the loss of the Church’s voice by suppression or its loss by absorption? Certainly, the former is institutionally very traumatic, when we have, over recent centuries, been accustomed to a sympathetic hearing. But the latter is ultimately more serious, since it presages a complete loss of our identity. In Jesus’s own words in St Matthew’s Gospel, “If salt loses its savour, it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under the foot of men.”
HOW, then, has the distinctive voice of the Church of England sounded in the past? How might it sound in the future? Here, I filter through my own thoughts some answers that were suggested by other speakers at the conference.
First, scripture and Christian doctrine, carefully understood and expounded, resonate through every utterance, invariably giving interest and solid content. Second, a distinctive voice must be spiritually grounded, not just about clever thought and reading lots of books, but integrated with the ongoing life of prayer and worship.
Third, it needs to be pastoral: rooted in attention paid to the joys, sorrows, celebrations, and struggles of individuals and local communities. Fourth, it must be beautiful: distinct from the ugly managerialist jargon that pervades every quarter of modern life.
Fifth, truthful: the Lord who himself is truth commits us to an unswerving commitment to seeking it. However uncomfortable, unpopular, or unsayable the truth might seem to be, in the end we know that it always liberates. Sixth, what we say must spring from our hope in the life of the world to come: a hope that does not undermine the importance of this world, but opens up in the midst of it a new perspective and a new promise.
Seventh, it should be reflected and backed up by actions: without them, it will simply not be credible. And, finally, amid increasing threats from different quarters to the dignity and value of human beings — and even to their continued right to exist on the planet — it must affirm human dignity at every level (while also, of course, having a corresponding awareness of human accountability and human sin).
My contention is that, if we can speak in such ways, then the Christian voice will, indeed, be distinctive; clearly audible, and not absorbed into the “broader secular mush”.
And perhaps also — although there can certainly be no guarantees of this — if we can articulate a message that is interesting and distinctive in the ways that I have outlined, it may be that others will be less quick to try and suppress it. “Your voice is not small: it just needs to be heard.” What wise words those are!
The Ven. Dr Edward Dowler is Archdeacon of Hastings, and Priest-in-Charge of St John the Evangelist, Crowborough, in the diocese of Chichester. He is to be the next Dean of Chichester (News, 17 May).