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Analysis
Anglicans enthrone ‘a saint’
By JOHN WILKINS
“We have a saint for our leader now,” claimed one of the
Anglican bishops after the enthronement of Dr. Rowan Williams in Canterbury
Cathedral Feb. 27. The new Archbishop of Canterbury would have winced to hear
that, but certainly Anglicans have a star, an intellectual and a poet, who
looks set to rival the late Archbishop Michael Ramsey and Cardinal Basil Hume
as a holy man who speaks to the nation about God. That is the task, because the
national church is in sharp decline. When its Sunday congregations, diminishing
along with those of the other mainline churches in Britain, dropped below a
million, those responsible for the statistics either withheld or massaged the
data.
It was a beautiful early spring day in Canterbury for the
enthronement ceremony in the cathedral where St. Thomas Becket was martyred in
1170 for asserting the rights of the church against King Henry II. Archbishop
Williams’ many supporters -- like those gathered outside with placards
inscribed “Thank God for Rowan” -- are hoping for springtime in the
Church of England. But Williams is something of an unknown entity on the
English establishment scene. He comes from Wales, where the Anglican church
prides itself on its distinctive Celtic roots and on its disestablishment.
Williams has been outspoken against pomp and circumstance. Assertions of
special status, he has said, are against the gospel.
Yet at Canterbury all the panoply of establishment was on full
display: processions of bishops and canons and choristers, state dignitaries,
Roman Catholic cardinals, Orthodox and oriental patriarchs, members of the Free
Churches (denominations such as the Mennonites and Quakers that traditionally
advocate separation from a state church), representatives of Judaism, Islam,
Hinduism and Buddhism. Here was a church still claiming to represent the
nation, with close ties to the state, personified not only by the presence at
the ceremony of the Prince of Wales and British Prime Minister Tony Blair, but
also by a bewigged retinue of legal personages, one of whom bore the Royal
Mandate which was duly read out to the assembled company before the proceedings
could unfold. Can Williams make headway against this, assuming he is still
minded to?
Part of the apparatus of establishment is that the final choice of
the appointment for Canterbury depends on the prime minister. It says much for
Tony Blair that he confirmed without hesitation the selection by the church of
a candidate who could spell trouble for him. It was quite certain, for example,
that Rowan Williams would not be cheering the prime minister on in his
determination to confront Iraq with force. The archbishop’s opposition to
the impending war has been made plain at every stage.
Rowan Williams happened to be close by in New York when the Twin
Towers fell. He witnessed firsthand on Sept. 11, 2001, the reaction of the
citizens around him to those terrifying events. He was “blessed,” he
wrote afterwards, in reflections he called Writing in the Dust, to be
among a group of people who showed such qualities that in their company he
faced death gladly. But it would be wrong, nevertheless, he added, to react to
such terror with the terror of war. The joint statement he recently issued with
the Roman Catholic Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster, Cormac
Murphy-O’Connor, while accepting that “the moral alternative to
military action cannot be inaction,” asserted that doubts persisted about
the “moral legitimacy, as well as the unpredictable humanitarian and
political consequences” of a war. The two archbishops urged continued
weapons inspections and unequivocal compliance by Iraq with the U.N.
resolutions.
The weather forecasters Feb. 27 were predicting storms to come,
and one has battered the Church of England already. Williams’ predecessor,
Archbishop George Carey, wrote him a consolatory letter recalling his own early
difficulties and adding, with a touch of schadenfreude, “Welcome to the
club.”
The latest heavy weather has come from the conservative wing of
the evangelicals who have now gained ascendancy in the Church of England,
especially after the ordination of women. Williams has a very high doctrine of
fidelity and commitment as the context for love and marriage, which
paradoxically leads him to doubt whether celibacy is required of homosexuals
under all circumstances, and he has knowingly ordained a gay man.
His opponents accuse him of subverting the authority of the Bible
by this approach. Williams has responded that he subjects his own views to
those of the church as a whole, but as Protestant individualists his critics do
not accept that stance. There were some of them on parade last week at
Canterbury, sternly arrayed behind banners which proclaimed “Beware of
False Prophets.” Others wore black armbands in mourning for the Church of
England.
Besides leading the national church and speaking to the nation, an
Archbishop of Canterbury also presides over the Anglican Communion with its 70
million members. Doctrine on homosexuality is something of a litmus test here
too, and dissension over it nearly split apart the Lambeth Conference of 1998.
The Africans and Asians accused the North Americans in particular of departing
from biblical truth under the influence of secularism, only to be accused in
their turn of fundamentalist dogmatism. Carey held the assembly together.
However, the Third World bishops fear that his successor is more liberal. They
have decided to give Rowan Williams a breathing space, but they will be
back.
Closer to home there is another storm brewing, which when it
breaks may have the capacity to shake throne and altar. After the death of his
wife, Diana, Prince Charles said he had no plans to marry his mistress, Camilla
Parker Bowles, but a very skillful public relations exercise has made the pair
publicly accepted as a couple. The Church of England is now willing to marry
divorcés in church under certain conditions, but not if one has been
responsible for the break-up of a previous marriage. The Bishop of London, the
diocese involved, would judge the circumstances in this case, but since Prince
Charles on becoming king will be Supreme Governor of the Church of England, the
Archbishop of Canterbury would have a say. Asked recently how he would react,
Williams replied, “It is possible to say no.”
But those clouds were not what occupied the minds of the
Canterbury congregation last week. The bishops as they emerged after the
service were smiling happily in the sunshine. They know they have a man of God
who will be a teaching archbishop with a touch of steel.
The Christian faith in Britain is like a forest fire that has died
down. Polled in the street, people say they are not religious -- but then
immediately add that they are, of course, “spiritual”; and the recent
census showed that over 70 percent of the population consider themselves to be
Christian. The churches have tried to fan these embers into flame, but have not
so far had much success. Now, helped by an Archbishop of Canterbury who does
not know how to speak in clichés, they must go on trying to find a
language that connects.
John Wilkins is editor of The Tablet, a Catholic weekly
published in London.
National Catholic Reporter, March 14,
2003
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