The resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury yesterday, Tuesday 12 November, was communicated to the world by a written statement posted on the Lambeth Palace website. It begins by referring to the “long-maintained conspiracy of silence about the heinous abuses of John Smyth”. The following two sentences reveal that the relatively new Archbishop, on hearing that the police had been notified, wrongly drew the conclusion “that an appropriate resolution would follow”. The statement then moves forward to refer to “the long and retraumatising period between 2013 and 2024” for which the Archbishop says that he “must take personal and institutional responsibility”.
That is the mea culpa. A reader might think that Justin Welby is not so much an actor in this saga as someone who, like many others, has been let down by a trusted authority or colleague. If that’s the reading you take, you may feel that he has paid too high a price by losing his role when others were at fault. But there are other interpretations.
After explaining why his resignation cannot be with immediate effect because of duties in England and across the Anglican Communion, the Archbishop expresses hope that his resignation clarifies “how seriously the Church of England understands the need for change and our profound commitment to creating a safer church”. He notes that he has struggled for 12 years to introduce improvements. While he modestly says that it’s for others to judge what has been done, there is no doubt the culture of the Church has gone through a paradigm shift under his leadership. Welby is certainly a champion of what we have learned to call “safeguarding”.
This, however, is not reason enough for him to remain in post. His correct decision to resign was a recognition of the sad reality that, despite the zeal with which he has set about reform, the way in which information regarding Smyth and his activities has been handled by the institution has left the clergy and laity of the Church of England, as well as its observers and critics, aghast.
Churches and clergy, especially bishops, have no automatic right to deference, trust or credibility. Trust must be earned by being relatable and reliable. Credibility must be developed through a combination of reasonable and rational engagement with the matters of every-day life, and the creative curation of inspirational and hope-generating words and deeds. It is not easy to share the reality and resonance of a loving God with people living in a culture almost entirely dominated by secularism, materialism and the methods of science; but that, for any kind of Christian, is the gig. If religions don’t open up vistas of transcendence, then they have lost their point. That it is hard to do this when the default attitude of those outside a faith community is bemusement, cynicism and distrust is nothing more than the starting point for mission.
Deference is a different matter. It’s not something to be rekindled but repudiated. It lies behind all abuse of power whether personal or institutional. The Church, like the world, needs to recognise that deference is not a virtue and that its death is something not to be mourned, but celebrated. The death of deference is integral not only to safeguarding but to freedom, justice and truth. All true religion should be against deference. This too is integral to safeguarding. The Church will never regain trust if it doesn’t ditch deference.
The final part of Welby’s statement moves to the confession of faith. It is right that he here frames his stepping aside as in the best interests of the Church of England, which he says he dearly loves, and tells us his prayer is that his decision serves as a reorientation towards “the love that Jesus Christ has for every one of us”. Some have argued that there is no point in the Archbishop resigning because this would merely be a scalp for scalp hunters, or a scapegoat for those who believe that scapegoating might achieve something. Their view is that the necessary revolution in safeguarding would have the best chance of success were he to remain at the helm. This is a naive misreading of the significance of resignation.
What resignation has done is to add reality to the regret, sorrow and manifest anguish that Justin Welby has been carrying. It is an owning of accountability. Nonetheless, no one should think for a moment that this resignation actually solves any problems for the Church. What this resignation does is signal to the Church and to the world that – in the context of institutional failure that has aggravated, sustained and heightened the suffering of the already suffering – the person who looks as if he might be responsible is the one who has to carry the can.
Justin Welby has done the right thing. The world would have been a better place had he done the right thing last week, but he was put off this course of action by unnamed advisers whom he described as senior colleagues. These mistaken individuals will be some of the strongest voices in determining the way in which the Church goes forward. With Welby gone, they will be more exposed as well as more powerful. No one would wish to be in their shoes.
[See also: The fall of Justin Welby]
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