IT WAS never meant to end like this. As recently as early November, Archbishop Welby’s staff were preoccupied by trying to work out just how many of the destinations on his wish list could be squeezed into the farewell tour of the Anglican Communion which would serve as part of this year’s long goodbye. Then came Makin and Welby’s resignation, a move unprecedented in modern times. On Monday, he spent his final day in office “privately” at Lambeth Palace. The day — the Feast of the Epiphany, and the Archbishop’s 69th birthday — involved some poignant goodbyes to those he has worked most closely with, and ended with the symbolic laying down of his crosier at evensong. To borrow the words of Lancelot Andrewes — a former Bishop of Winchester who narrowly missed out on Canterbury — a cold coming he had of it.
Archbishop Welby’s resignation does not mean that the Church is out of the woods. The fallout from the Makin review continues, and healing will take time. Public anger after the release of the Makin report coalesced around the injustice of John Smyth’s never having had to answer for his crimes. The Church as a whole and certain individuals within it have been blamed for his never having faced justice (though, as we have reported, there remain those who question some of the details of Makin’s conclusions). And justice matters: we are called to do justice, to love kindness, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). For survivors, a vital ingredient, as the Bishop of Bath & Wells proposes (Comment, page 12), entails being heard. Too often, survivors have been denied this, whether through a cover-up, bureaucratic dysfunction, police inaction, an inadequate disciplinary system, or some combination of all four. The Church knows it must do better.
The mainstream press is much occupied by the selection of the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury. Given the circumstances, the outcome will be closely scrutinised. Yet the appointment to the see of Canterbury is only part of the story. Aside from the obvious point that the heart of the Church of England lies in its parishes — and continues to beat stubbornly on, whatever its hierarchy is doing — there are crucial decisions to be made this year, well before any new incumbent moves into Lambeth Palace. Before the membership of the Canterbury Crown Nominations Commission has even been finalised, the General Synod is due to have voted on a new model of independent safeguarding next month. (As for the other s-word — sexuality — it will return to the fore later in the year, when a substantive debate is expected in the Synod in July.)
It would be easy to get so caught up in the fight for due justice for past wrongs that we lose sight of the vital goal of securing best practice for the present and future. It was, Lancelot Andrewes wrote, the worst time of the year to make a journey, especially a long one. The ways were deep, the weather sharp, the days short, and the sun farthest off. Like the Magi, it appears, the Church can reach a brighter destination only by enduring the very dead of winter.
