THERE is no disguising the fact that this is an unusual leader comment. Although it is by the same person who has written almost all these leaders for nearly 30 years — some 800,000 words — a significant change has taken place in these, my last hours as editor, and the voice here is a personal one, not a collective one. Perhaps the change is not so great, in that my own views have been shaped permanently by the history of this newspaper, by the wisdom of my colleagues, and by the representations of the readers over these years. As so often in the past, I find myself sitting down to write a leader (my Tuesday evenings from now on are going to be oddly clear) and realising that my task is merely to remind readers of truths that they might have forgotten temporarily, or of old knowledge that needs to be applied to a new context. On this occasion, however, I shall not be in post next week to take responsibility for what is written here, and ought, in fairness to my colleagues, to add the disclaimer that these views are my own — though, I hope, not mine alone, since my theme is unity, which, I trust, is as important to Church Times readers as it is to me.
Editing the Church Times has given me an extraordinary perspective, perhaps a unique one, on the tensions that exist in the present-day Church; and access to the Church Times archive has given me (and can give any subscriber) a comprehensive view of the tensions of the past. Such tensions, I suggest, are inevitable in a body that purports to be committed to resisting the compelling temptation to form into small clubs for the like-minded. The essence of Anglicanism — in my view, perhaps its most attractive aspect — is that it allows these tensions to surface without hindrance, and to shape its ecclesiology, even its theology. Moulded by English political history (including the Empire and the Commonwealth), it yearns for the catholicity that is enjoyed by the Roman Catholic Church — but it lets into the mix a Protestant bias towards individual conscience which is almost bound to undermine that catholicity, and which a more authoritarian structure would attempt to suppress.
Unity is natural and difference is natural, and it is only human sinfulness that sets these in opposition. St Paul’s metaphor of the unity of the different parts of the body remains apt, especially since he wrote it to counter disagreements that exist in this day as they did in his. The difficulty with unity is that, looked at from one angle, it is the supreme virtue, overarching differing principles and objectives, as well as divergent ages, backgrounds, and cultures. Looked at from another angle, it is a disturbing revolutionary force, subverting those principles and objectives, and inviting disloyalty to those various backgrounds. An essential tool of unity is compromise, and among principled people compromise has a bad press. But not in this paper: I note that my very first leader, in February 1995, stated: “The ability to compromise is necessary for any kind of communal life.” The life of the Church is, above all, communal.
Open disagreement is upsetting, and I fear that, over the years, the Church Times has lost readers as it reports the twists and turns of key debates — which in my time have included women’s ordained ministry, sexuality, safeguarding, and race, as well as more fundamental topics such as the nature of the Church, its relationship with the State, and the purpose of its mission. Looking back over the history of the Church, as I did briefly with Diarmaid MacCulloch a couple of weeks ago, it can be seen as over-ambitious to expect such complex issues to be resolved in so short a time as 30 years; but, of course, it can be a wearisome business living through such periods of disagreement.
Fortunately, as well as an awareness of the Church’s tensions, my job has given me a unique perspective on the miraculous — and often successful — attempts to overcome differences and find, if not full agreement, then patience with and love for one’s opponents. This mending of relationships often has to occur at an individual level, and it has been a recurrent sadness to see such fresh shoots of understanding stomped on by party spirit, or to hear church leaders being mocked when they promote “good disagreement”. To be clear, good disagreement is not capitulation: it is a commitment to continuing to work honestly but harmoniously towards the perfect unity that Christ awaits (and will occur without fail post-mortem).
It can be deduced from this that I have never been a fan of schism. Again, there’s a caveat at the individual level: some people’s experience of church can be harmful beyond their ability to mend or cope, and distancing themselves can be the only healthy option. (I write as someone who once belonged to a troubled religious community.) But I have little sympathy — or, to be honest, liking — for groups in the Church that either break away or threaten to do so as a debating ploy. When a group splits off, or does so in all but name and pension arrangements, it interrupts the endless moulding that is an essential part of being the body of Christ, and severs people from the message that God has just as much love for other groups of people with differing views and behaviour.
Disagreement, handled well, is what helps the Church to improve. (I’m not talking about people who thrive on disagreement, who should give themselves a good talking to.) It is a humbling process, to be reminded that you might not be right, or, if you are, you have not yet articulated your position well enough, or listened well enough to others to take them into account and win them over. And all this applies supremely here at the Church Times, where, by allowing different viewpoints to be expressed, we attempt to act as a crucible for agreement among our passionate but equally loyal readers. When I started in this job, I didn’t appreciate that being told that you’re wrong quite so frequently was one of the perks. But I have always reckoned that the price of a subscription gives readers the right to play their part in moulding the paper and its editor, and I thank you for your attention and care. It has been a pleasure from start to finish.
Paul Handley
editor (1995-2024)