THE Archbishop of York is preparing for the first meeting of the General Synod since the resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The Church of England is currently navigating decidedly choppy waters: internally, there is painful disagreement on same-sex marriage and the reform of safeguarding, and, externally, the Church’s reputation is at rock bottom after a series of safeguarding scandals.
Against such a backdrop, what are his hopes for next week’s meeting of the Synod? “There will be, I imagine, a lot of pain and anguish and anger being expressed for reasons I fully understand and, indeed, share, but I hope that we will focus on the changes that we can make,” Archbishop Cottrell says. The most egregious recent cases were often about “mistakes in the past, reaching into the present, where either they were not dealt with adequately, or where we don’t have the processes to deal with them adequately.
“That is all deeply shaming, and it’s wrong. We need to change. Having had to live with it [in the Tudor case], I know that better than anyone. So I know there will be some anger, but, actually, paradoxically, this is the Synod where a lot of this is coming together.” The agenda offers “a huge opportunity” for reform.
Governance, process, and policy need to be joined up, he insists. “It’s about making them transparent and making them accountable, but I think it’s also a matter of character. In my prayers, I’ve found myself coming back to the Beatitudes as a key text, and asking myself: What does it mean to be poor in spirit, which I think means much greater dependence upon God, less dependence on myself? What does it mean to mourn, to lament, which, for me, means really, really listening to the voices of victims and survivors, putting their needs first? And blessed are those who hunger and thirst for what is right.”
He is acutely aware that the Church is facing “deep, systemic challenges”. There are, he says, unacceptable “gaps between the different bits of our processes”. The only solution lies in the Church’s taking collective responsibility as the Body of Christ. “It’s about how we do things, how we govern ourselves, how we discipline clergy, how — whether you’re the Archbishop of York or a curate in a parish — we should be held accountable.”
What does accountability look like? “I don’t think any of us quite know. We need to work at that. But that’s also, for me, a spiritual thing. I take reckoning and judgement very seriously. I will one day give an account to God for my stewardship of the Church, and, therefore, in my life on earth as a disciple of Jesus, I need to make sure that the Church is a place of accountability, that we have the policies and procedures that enable that to happen. It’s not that they don’t exist . . . but that we can do so much better.”
He points out that the Church of England is not the only institution facing these challenges. “I even dare to hope that people will see that this Church of England, which has been humbled by these failings, has now become a humbler Church.”
He emphasises that he does not want to sound complacent. “I’m troubled by these things. But, Sunday by Sunday, I go to church. I see the Church of England doing its incredible stuff, day in, day out, week in, week out.” He points to the strides forward in understanding of safeguarding. “Forty years ago, when I was ordained, I had no safeguarding training whatsoever. Even 21 years ago, as a bishop, there was hardly anything. Now, there’s a parish safeguarding officer in every parish, and so much progress has been made.”
Is he confident that the Synod will be able to have productive conversations in the current climate? “I hope so. All I can say is that I don’t want to silence people. It’s important that, if people are feeling angry, they give voice to that anger. But I hope people will do it courteously, and will not be looking to heap blame on certain people or certain groups; rather, [that they] take collective responsibility as the body that can make the changes that need to be made. As well as expressing whatever we need to express, let us not be deflected from that purpose.”
What about the new delay in the completion of the Living in Love and Faith process? “I think there’ll be some anger. I have a bit myself, but what I’m focused on is getting it right. I’d love it to be resolved, because I believe it is the right thing to do under God, but I want to do it in a way that honours the conscience of those who can’t embrace this. I believe we can do that, but getting it right is taking time.”
The alternative is to jeopardise the progress already made. “[But] if I was a gay person wanting Prayers of Love and Faith in what we now call a ‘bespoke service’ in church, or a priest getting married to a same-sex partner, I would be deeply, deeply frustrated and angry about the slowness of the progress. I completely get it. But my only response can be: I believe God is leading us to a place where we can deliver these things in a way that is good and godly and holds the Church together. And that’s what I’m committed to doing. I’d love it to be tomorrow, but I think it’s going to take a bit more time.”
What about the deep divisions on this and other issues? How does the Archbishop attempt to hold the Church together? “I’ve recently come back from a very moving meeting of the College of Bishops, where there [were] tears and penitence and a deep sharing with each other,” he says. “Yes, of course, there is profound and conscientious disagreement. There is also pain, and a sense of the whole Church being humbled. But what I also experience is good women and men given responsibility within the life of the Church to shape and lead the Church in the spiritual things which will be the seed-bed of the renewal that we need, and wanting to work together with each other.”
We increasingly live in a world of silos and echo chambers, and that leads to conflict, he suggests. “It’s a dangerous world. I want the Church of Jesus Christ to tell a different story: a story where of course there’s disagreement, but disagreement doesn’t lead to division, and actually we begin to model what it looks like to live together with conscientious disagreement.”
ARCHBISHOP Cottrell has been under personal pressure in recent weeks, as calls have been made for his resignation in the light of his handling of the David Tudor case when he was Bishop of Chelmsford (News, 20/27 December 2024). He was — and remains — highly frustrated that he was constrained by the law from acting to suspend Mr Tudor until fresh complaints emerged in 2019. In the nine years previously, he could only put in measures to manage the risk.
“I couldn’t [do anything], and that is the truth,” he says. “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me, but I have to say it was a deeply uncomfortable truth to live with, and I lived with it, throughout my time as Bishop of Chelmsford, and so did my predecessor.”
The mistakes that allowed Mr Tudor back into ministry in the 1990s, after being banned for ministry for five years for sexual misconduct in 1989, “simply would not happen today”, he says. “But that isn’t enough. If we find people in positions like that, we need to have ways of disciplining them, which we don’t have.”
Did he really call Mr Tudor “a Rolls-Royce priest”, as the BBC recently reported? “I have no recollection of saying this. And I did not hold him up as an exemplar of parish ministry,” he says.
What about making him an honorary canon? “When I arrived, he was already the area dean, and, I want to be very clear, I beat myself up over that. That was something that I could have stopped. And, because of a policy in the diocese [at the time], all area deans became honorary canons. I deeply regret that.”
He continues: “Without wanting to sound overly defensive, because we knew the backstory, and because we knew that we were not able to act, our focus was entirely upon managing the risk [he presented], which is actually what good safeguarding is about. Good safeguarding professionals in the diocese of Chelmsford were very focused on that, as were others within the parish with whom we worked.”
He believes that Archbishop Welby “did an honourable thing on behalf of the Church he loves and serves” when he stood down from office. What of his own position? Is he considering resignation? “No. I believe God has called me to this,” he says. “I’ve been very honest about what I’ve done and what I haven’t done, what I need to learn, what we, the Church, need to learn. Actually, because I’ve had to live with the constraints and the challenges of the things we’ve not yet been able to change, I think maybe I could have a part to play this year in making us a humbler Church, and, therefore, a Church that looks and sounds a bit more like Jesus. Part of that is our penitence, but also our accountability.”
Has the recent media coverage inflicted lasting damage on the Church of England? “I don’t think we know at the moment. But it has most certainly done damage. I think the wider culture is disgusted by what’s happened. And, of course, it’s really hard for those of us within the Church, who love the Church, who serve the Church, to face that; but we must face it.”
To many, this feels like a crisis, he says. “In my own prayers and reflections. I’m trying to think of it as a kairos moment, one of those moments of reckoning, where we are recalled to very basic things about what it means to be disciples of Jesus and to be his Church.”
There is, I suggest, a deep weariness in the Church of England: people feel battered. “I do think we need to reset the compass,” the Archbishop responds. “And I find myself, for what’s probably going to be about a year, occupying this place where I will have some shaping influence on that. I hope, in terms of governance, policy, those kind of changes we could deliver, many of them this year, would mean that whoever is the next Archbishop of Canterbury is stepping into a Church that is on the road to becoming a more humble, more joined up, more accountable Church.”
And who might that be? “No, I don’t know who it is. As I said in my Epiphany letter to the Church of England (News, 10 January), I do think we need to reflect deeply on what we expect. . .
“It’s a hard and uncomfortable job, but all jobs of leadership can be hard and uncomfortable. Despite it all, I want to say that I’m the Archbishop of York because I believe God has called me to it. I wish it wasn’t so difficult and complicated at the moment. . . But nothing changes the fact that I feel God has called me to it, and I will carry on saying sorry when I make mistakes.
“I believe I should be held accountable. I believe it’s right for people to stand down when they have made significant personal failings, but I don’t believe it’s right to scapegoat individuals over matters of collective failing and collective responsibility.
“Rather, we need to work together to make the changes we need to make and, therefore, make the job of those who are called to lead us a bit more manageable. All I can promise you is I’m praying for whoever it is that God raises up and calls, and I will look forward to doing my best to working alongside them and supporting them when that day comes.”
In the mean time, there is plenty to be getting on with, he says. “I pray each day for our Church and its renewal, its witness to our nation. What God gives us in Jesus is what our world needs. That is what I’m focused on.”