The writing is on the wall

The Church of England’s long suicide note continued apace recently with the announcement of a new exhibition at Canterbury Cathedral where members of “marginalized communities” could pose questions to God in the form of graffiti on the walls of the cathedral. The official website declared that “the project highlights graffiti as a means of reclaiming public spaces, preserving cultural heritage, and affirming identity.”

Of course, those who enjoy the privilege of the Canterbury establishment considering them “marginalized communities” are a rather exclusive set, consisting of identity categories “such as Punjabi, black and brown diaspora, neurodivergent, and LGBTQIA+ groups.” Whether other culturally and politically “marginalized communities”—for example, Elvis impersonators, fans of Status Quo, stay-at-home mothers—were represented is not clear, but I would guess that the odds are not high. In fact, the project panders to the cultural tastes of 2020-21. Even the poet who was central to its execution, Alex Villis (they/them) is a poster child for the silly identity fantasies of our day.

Many have expressed outrage at the display. That is sad because it panders to the lazy gesture politics of the project and grants it an importance that, in terms of artistic merit and philosophical depth, it does not deserve. It is just the latest predictable and cliched attempt by the Church of England, assisted by fourth-rate artistic wannabes, to draw attention to itself. As to “reclaiming public space,” it does nothing of the sort. Rather, it steals public space for the pet project of a few self-important people. And those involved were no doubt paid handsomely for their participation. (Your tithe money working for you!)

This is not some disaffected youth using a spray-can to post obscenities on a building and thereby risking arrest and prosecution. It is talentless but privileged members of the artistic class, with the full backing of the Canterbury elite, vandalizing a church. That is not reclaiming public space. It is behaving like disaffected teenagers but without the risks such teenage silliness usually involves. More than that, it is desecrating sacred space. It is of the spirit of the age, a repudiation of history and all once considered holy. In this the artistic and religious establishment are now publicly united in the very space where they should be radically opposed.

The theologically astute defender of the display might respond that Christ himself was desecrated in his human flesh on the cross, that his torn and broken flesh is central to the gospel, and that the Christian message is constituted in part by the logic of the crucifixion. That is true, and there is a key similarity between the two. But this similarity undermines the cause of the artists and Canterbury establishment. Both acts were done with the approval of the religious establishment. The crucifixion thereby revealed the evil and corruption of that establishment. I am inclined to say the same applies to the Canterbury display in 2025. The agents of desecration—in both cases the religious establishment—are revealed for who and what they truly are.

It is ironic that the focus of the graffiti is questions about basic religious matters such as death and the afterlife. Had Canterbury remained faithful to its core documents—the Bible, the Book of Common Prayer, the Thirty-Nine Articles—it would have answers to give people on such things. But it has been committed over many decades now to denying that the answers can be found in the one place where God does address our deepest needs, desires, and perplexities.

Perhaps, then, the display is sadly appropriate. A building where once the answer to the fallen human condition is now a theological graveyard and these bits of graffiti are the evidence that the Church of England has no answers. Perhaps the words “Ichabod” sprayed over the entrance might be considered next time?