An empty heritage

After months of desultory speculation about who would be the next Archbishop of Canterbury, and almost a year after the resignation of Justin Welby over allegations that he covered up an abuse scandal, the Crown Nominating Commission named their man ... or rather woman. Dame Sarah Mullally, bishop of London, will be the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury.

Canterbury is the oldest See in the Church of England, founded by St. Augustine in 597 at the direction of Pope Gregory. In these latter days, from the elegance and comfort of Lambeth Palace, Bishop Mullally, the most senior female cleric in the history of the Church of England, will preside over the remains of the Anglican Communion. She will be the fourth “Instrument of Communion” and the face of Anglicanism around the world.

Bishop Mullally read out a statement shortly after the announcement: “In the apparent chaos which surrounds us, in the midst of such profound global uncertainty, the possibility of healing lies in acts of kindness and love. With humility and grace, we uphold and support those in need of our help. We do this to the best of our ability, in small ways and big, according to our own very particular gifts.”

A few hours later, Archbishop Laurent Mbanda, Chairman of Gafcon (Global Anglican Futures Conference), lamented the appointment: “Though there are some who will welcome the decision to appoint Bishop Mullally as the first female Archbishop of Canterbury, the majority of the Anglican Communion still believes that the Bible requires a male-only episcopacy. Therefore, her appointment will make it impossible for the Archbishop of Canterbury to serve as a focus of unity within the Communion.”

He pointed out that so far from banishing "all strange and erroneous doctrine contrary to God's Word" she has “repeatedly promoted unbiblical and revisionist teachings regarding marriage and sexual morality.”

Earlier this year, during the General Synod, Bishop Mullally reportedly wept over the suffering of women clerics: “I would love to encourage women, which I do all the time, but there continues to be institutional barriers, we continue to experience micro-aggressions.” Part of her frustration, it seems, is that women do not comprise a full 50% of bishops in the Church of England.

In her recent travels to other Anglican jurisdictions, she was much moved by “a shared inheritance of history, of family worship, Sacrament and Word—made real in global diversity.” “In an age that craves certainty and tribalism,” she said, “Anglicanism offers something quieter but stronger: shared history, held in tension, shaped by prayer, and lit from within by the glory of Christ.” Absent from her remarks on the occasion of her appointment was, tragically, the gospel.

What is the gospel? It is the good news that Jesus was born of the Virgin Mary, that He lived a perfect life, that He died on the cross for our sins, rose again, ascended to heaven to intercede for us, and will come again in glory. This news transformed not only the whole world, but that sceptered isle that eventually went on to conquer the world. It was said that the sun never set on the British Empire, and in places as far flung as one can imagine, as the empire receded back to its natal shores, there were left Anglican churches that, for almost a century, were bound together in a communion now shattered. 

Being a woman, it's hard for me not to weep when I think of what the Church of England has become. I was christened in a tiny English church that is now shuttered. I grew up drinking tea the correct way, praying the daily office, formed and shaped by the very rhythms Bishop Mullally is so proud of. But without the good news of Jesus Christ who came to gather His lost sheep in every place and every age, the Church of England is an empty heritage, a mere history blithely disregarded.

Bishop Mullally will soon be called “Your Grace” instead of simply, “Bishop Sarah.” She will wear robes and send official letters. She will talk about hope and the necessity of respecting the dignity of every person, but because she doesn’t know and won’t obey Jesus, all of her labors will be useless.

It is a dreadful thing when an ancient, respected, gracious institution crumbles into the dust. It is acceptable to lament, to weep perhaps, but then it is time to set one’s face, like flint, toward the cross, to stoop in the mind’s eye into that empty tomb, to remember that the lost are perishing and that there is no time to lose. Many are saying that Canterbury has fallen. The truth is, Canterbury has been dead for some time. Now we must wait to see what God, who is the Resurrection and the Life, will do.