16th November 2005
To begin by asking this audience, ‘Why are you here?’ may sound just a bit negative (shades of the wartime challenge, ‘Was your journey really necessary?’). But it’s meant as a serious and an open question. Why were you elected to this Synod? What do you and your electors hope for from your presence here?
Well, presumably, you were elected because enough people believed that you would defend and advance their vision of the Church, their sense of the priorities that confront us. And those who voted for you also voted because they believed that Synod was important enough to take time with – important enough to ask someone to sacrifice their leisure and energy over a substantial chunk of time. Both of those things ought to tell us that Synod is, in the eyes of at least some, a body that takes responsibility for the Church’s vision of itself.
And that’s why you’re here. You’re here to take responsibility for a vision. You have been elected, perhaps, to serve a particular kind of vision within the spectrum of our Church. But once you’re here, you are also committed, just by being here and praying together, to listen and look for a vision that is that of the whole Church, a vision that is in accord with God’s purpose for his people. Synod is, in the full, ancient sense of the word, a Catholic body, or it is nothing. It is an organ of the Church’s constant search for a fuller grasp of the all-encompassing mystery in the middle of which it lives and prays.
Synod may be a legislative body; it may be a sort of parliament; it may feel variously like a debating society, an amateur dramatic society, an interminable revising committee or a scene from Groundhog Day, but before and beyond all of this, it is part of our Church’s way of discerning God’s purpose for us, and it is utterly meaningless if we lose sight of that. You are here to serve and to nourish a vision, to try and find for the Church of England a sense of its mission that is strong and deeprooted enough to be owned by the whole of our community and owned as part of the work and witness of the entire worldwide church.
That means specifics, of course, not only aspirations, and I’ll come back to what some of those might be in a minute. But I’d like to repeat something I’ve said before in this setting, asking your forgiveness for saying it yet again. To the extent that Synod is a gathering of Christians who meet for (among other things) prayer and reflection on Scripture, Synod is a sort of Church. And the ethos, the ‘feel’, of the synodical meeting can contribute, positively or negatively, to the feel of the whole Church. An inward-looking Synod, an anxious Synod, a suspicious, ungenerous or legalistic Synod, will have an impact on the kind of Church we become in the next five years. A Synod that is capable of patience where needed and impatience where needed, that is primarily concerned with honest and joyful sharing of what it has been given as part of Christ’s Body – that too has an impact.
But of course it is a part of Christ’s body; and St Paul’s thoughts about the members of the Body are of great relevance here. Synod serves the Church’s mission, but seldom carries out that mission directly in the way that local communities do. The day we go out to evangelise on the streets of Westminster we will become a very different body. Whether we are thinking about interfaith and ecumenical dialogue, the ‘fresh expressions’ agenda, church schools, community regeneration and the Church Urban Fund, or the simple and central work of continuing pastoral care from birth to death, what makes a difference in the Church’s work is largely there on the ground, in the local gathering of believers. It is essential to recognise the quality and depth of so much that is done and never to forget that this is what we are serving; the vision we try to hold, we hold for that work to go on and to be better supported and resourced. We live in an age cursed by over-management and over-regulation, by a confusion about where decisions are best made, and Synod is not exempt from the general curse. We need a sober realism about what our importance is: the dignity of serving the Church’s mission is great; we shouldn’t have to entertain exaggerated ideas of this Synod as the engine of all change.
So: we are here both to hold and to shape a vision for the Church, to seek for ways of making more things possible for the Church in its local, face-to-face ministry and mission, and at the same time to look for ways of talking and acting that will somehow express what is universal and basic in our faith. We have to beware of ‘poisoning the wells’ by doing our business with suspicion and hostility or lack of mutual respect. We have to remind ourselves that the Church’s central focus is not on its own housekeeping, necessary as that is, but on its communication of a revealed truth and hope to the world. Given the actual business that lies before us in the next five years, how does that translate into practical priorities?
Here are a few thoughts on specific matters.
There are many more matters on which we could reflect in this way. If the list I’ve given is dominated, in spite of everything, by concerns about the internal business of the Church (and it is, rather), that’s partly because it is there that we can and must begin to change. But I hope that it may have given a few clues about how being a certain sort of Synod might help us be a certain sort of Church. Whatever we might like to think, there is no one sure-fire recipe to reverse the trends in the life of our Church that we might deplore; if our electors sent us here to do this, I'm afraid we are going to disappoint them. But I’d like to think that perhaps they also sent us here in order to serve something greater, to put ourselves at the disposal of the Kingdom of God. On the whole Synods don’t renew churches – neither do archbishops, for that matter. God does, and he does so by the most extraordinarily unpredictable means and people, and our ingenuity and skill is sometimes best exercised by seeing how we can get out of God’s way when he is moving. That depends a great deal on our working as a Synod in a way that suggests we really do believe that God exists; and what I have said is no more than a modest set of ideas for what this might entail.
So, in summary: take personal responsibility for maintaining communion as best you can in forming some new relationships, in the Church of England and more widely. Pray with people you might not otherwise pray with. Show that you are ready to learn from each other and from God, not least in how you think and plan about our ordained ministry. Work for a theologically educated church – a church that gives thanks to God and sings praise with mind as well as heart. Keep asking what visible difference (it doesn’t have to be a huge difference, just a real one) any discussion or ideal or plan will make for the Kingdom of God – and if you can’t answer, look again at the importance you’re giving it. Find a voice to challenge younger disciples into deeper faith and fuller ministry. Above all, remember that you – we – are a community of people committed to seeing and hearing Jesus Christ Our Lord in one another.
Renewing wisdom is found in odd places. For me, one of the most penetrating spiritual commentators in the English-speaking world is the Australian cartoonist, Michael Leunig. I leave you with two extracts from a recent book of his prayers and meditations; looking for words with which to end, I found these were the ones that seemed to me to be possibly the sort of thing that our Lord might want a Christian Synod to hear.
There are only two feelings.
Love and fear.
There are only two languages.
Love and fear.
There are only two activities.
Love and fear.
There are only two motives,
two procedures, two frameworks,
two results.
Love and fear.
Love and fear.
God help us to find our confession;
The truth within us which is hidden from our mind;
The beauty or ugliness we see elsewhere
But never in ourselves;
The stowaway which has been smuggled
Into the dark side of the heart,
Which puts the heart off balance and causes it pain,
Which wearies and confuses us,
Which tips us in false directions and inclines us to destruction,
The load which is not carried squarely
Because it is carried in ignorance.
God help us to find our confession.
Help us across the boundary of our understanding.
Lead us into the darkness that we may find what lies concealed;
That we may confess it towards the light;
That we may carry our truth in the centre of our heart;
That we may carry our cross wisely
And bring harmony into our life and our world. Amen.