AS SHAME about the state of the Church deepened last week, we had this prayer by Archbishop Laud three times at choral evensong: “Gracious Father, we humbly beseech thee for thy holy Catholic Church. Fill it with all truth; in all truth with all peace. Where it is corrupt, purify it; where it is in error, direct it; where in anything it is amiss, reform it; where it is right strengthen and confirm it, where it is in want, provide for it; where it is divided reunite it; for the sake of Jesus Christ, thy Son, our Saviour. Amen.”
Archbishop Laud was not, perhaps, the wisest of our archbishops. He was bad- tempered and uncompromising. He antagonised the Puritans relentlessly, using the Court of Star Chamber to intimidate and persecute them. He was thought to be obsessed with correct ritual, and he did, indeed, reposition the holy table to the east end of the chancel, and hem it in with rails to protect its sanctity, ending the Reformation practice of placing it lengthways in the nave.
As if this wasn’t enough, he also made himself massively unpopular for decreeing that dogs should not be allowed in church; and he paid for his support for King Charles I by being imprisoned for treason in the Tower of London and, later, executed. He failed in almost everything that he tried to do; and yet he has left his mark on the Church in ways that are still compelling — not least in this prayer, which does not glorify the institutional Church, but recognises its fallibility.
It is an extraordinarily good prayer, which not only pleads to God for peace and unity, but helps to form and reform our thoughts about what we are praying for. Corruption and error are named, along with the vaguer “anything that is done amiss”. But the seeds of hope are also named: where the Church is right, we pray for it to be strengthened and confirmed.
Praying this prayer has brought some consolation at a time when it is easy to despair over our safeguarding failures and our confusions over accountability. The prayer reminds us that the Church is always a mixture of truth and falsehood, holiness and wickedness. The claim to be “pure”, whether in theology, vision, or strategy, often masks coercive and unchristian behaviour.
I cannot deal with pulpit jokes or liturgical flummery at the moment. Advent comes as the northern hemisphere approaches the darkest moment of the year. Several years ago, frustrated at the wordiness of the Common Worship prayers at the lighting of candles on the Advent wreath, I offered a simpler, shorter version to be used on all four Sundays. Here it is, for those who cannot manage much right now:
As light in the darkness,
As hope in our hearts.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.