At its current rate, the Church of England can probably fit in another pre-Christmas safeguarding catastrophe, and embark on the familiar ritual.
Independent report/BBC reporter: You have betrayed victims of abuse and sinfully allowed their abusers to remain within the church.
Bishop: I am truly penitent, but it wasn’t my fault.
All: Resign.
Bishop: Blessed are they that commission an independent review of lessons learned, for they shall have rest.
All: Resign.
Bishop: What good would that do? Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
All bishops except the bishop of Newcastle: Amen.
To judge by the most recent performance, in which it fell to Stephen Cottrell, the archbishop of York (temporarily replacing Justin Welby, the archbishop of Canterbury, after the latter’s resignation) to say it wasn’t his fault that a known abuser had enjoyed promotion in his previous diocese, the church sees no need to update the non-resignation rite the better to reflect attitudes in the wider community.
In fact, following the BBC’s revelations about the late David Tudor, a priest accused of sexual misconduct, Julie Conalty, the bishop of Birkenhead and the church’s deputy lead for safeguarding, suggested that the church is even more keen on non-resignations than was previously understood. Yes, she told Radio 4’s World at One, there were other priests who, like David Tudor, are not allowed to be alone with children. Right. Maybe the church could quickly devise some system whereby next week’s Christmas-only congregants, unfamiliar with this aspect of church arcana, can feel confident that the good news is not being brought to them by an Anglican version of Elmer Gantry.
On the future of Cottrell, who is rejecting demands for his resignation, the safeguarding expert suggested what was almost as surprising, a national shortage of reliably innocuous bishops. “If not Stephen Cottrell, then who?” she asked Sarah Montague. “We can keep having resignations but that isn’t going to solve our problem.”
On the other hand, if the church would genuinely struggle to find a harmless bishop who has never tolerated the continued employment of a known abuser, it only intensifies another longstanding church problem, that of its legislative illegitimacy. Even before Canterbury and York had supplied compelling new reasons for the permanent eviction of “lords spiritual”, 26 of whom have seats in the House of Lords, Labour’s promised reform, the expulsion of hereditaries, was being attacked for not including the unelected representatives of what is increasingly, regardless of embarrassments, a minority religion. “It is beyond a joke,” the SNP MP Pete Wishart told the Commons.
Not that this grouping lets declining congregations, negative polls and regular disgrace interfere with its prodigious conviction of moral authority. Had she succeeded in 2017 (as Welby wanted her to) in becoming bishop of London, peers might have enjoyed being lectured, like her congregants, by Paula Vennells, once CEO of the Post Office and a former ethical adviser to the C of E. She surrendered her CBE but retains holy orders.
Speaking after Welby’s unwilling resignation but before the BBC’s Tudor revelations, Cottrell indulged himself with a homily on the theme of social cohesion, rich in pieties. “Whoever we are, we are welcome in the House of God,” he told colleagues, “and all these other things, including our robes, do not matter.” Which is just as well, really, in the Church of England, where parishes are still allowed to refuse women vicars, and “flying bishops” are available for congregations averse to female ones, the policy designated “mutual flourishing”. Just last year, one noted resister, Philip North, became bishop of Blackburn. Cottrell: “I am hugely excited about his appointment.”
To add to frequently aired – though persistently ignored – secular objections to clerics enjoying platforms and perks (including the attendance allowance) in the upper house, the church is now essentially offering its own incompetence as an excuse for failing victims.
Explaining why he would not resign following the BBC’s horrific revelations about Tudor, Cottrell issued a statement reminding the public how difficult he’d found not being able to do anything, his church having neglected to make that possible: “The situation with David Tudor was an awful situation to live with and to manage.” But not quite so awful, you gather, that he decided he’d rather step down than let Tudor, the abuser of young girls, achieve the rank of “honorary canon” in the established church.
One of Tudor’s victims said of the most senior cleric in the House of Lords: “It feels like he spat in my face.”
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In not supporting Helen-Ann Hartley, the bishop of Newcastle, in her demand for Welby’s, and now Cottrell’s, departure, her fellow lords spiritual have chosen to advertise, presumably out of carelessness, levels of incompetence such as to justify, even if this were a passionately devout country, their permanent return to their respective ministries.
Their admissions of regret, invariably expressed in jargon about safeguarding processes as opposed to a colossal ethical collapse, expose the church as principally managerial in character, and hopeless even at that. Along with hereditaries – and the odd villain – there could hardly be more promising candidates for Lords reduction. What would be lost?
Before he quit, Welby’s office was to be found advertising for a speechwriter. “As Speechwriter, you will support the Archbishop of Canterbury in his ministry… you will draft high-quality speeches, articles, statements, and other published content for the Archbishop.” Applications for this significant church position were invited “from people of all faiths and of no faith”.
Why should not these applicants, zero faith being required, aim higher? Subject to a police check, anyone who has never excused cover-ups for child abusers or encouraged institutionalised misogyny (or promoted Paula Vennells) may feel they have a claim to spiritual leadership equal to all but one of the C of E’s bishops. And if some biblical scholarship remains necessary for this career path, the concept of hell has plainly, to judge by the latest scandals, been left far behind.
Catherine Bennett is an Observer columnist