THE FORTHCOMING royal wedding further discredits an already ailing institution. I mean the Church of England. For most of the 20th century it had the authority to direct the love life of royalty — it forced a king in love with a divorcée to abdicate, then blocked the marriage of Princess Margaret to a divorcée. The royals had always to make sure that their private life was seen to conform to the austere teachings of the Church.
But nowadays the Church of England lacks confidence in its moral authority. And it almost seems as if things are the other way round: the love life of royalty has the power to influence Church teaching. When the idea of the Prince of Wales’s remarriage was first mooted, in the mid-1990s, it looked impossible. But over the next few years the Church conveniently began to soften its line on the remarriage of divorcees, which made last week’s developments that bit smoother.
Perhaps this is how the Church now solves its internal disputes, by waiting to see if the Royal Family has a vested interest in change. It would solve a lot of problems for Anglicans if Prince William decided that he was a homosexual with a calling to the priesthood, or the Princess Royal discovered ambitions to be a bishop. In the meantime it is nice to know that there is nothing especially wrong with having extra-marital affairs.
The ability of the Church to fall into line does not look good. It would actually do it a lot of good to split over Charles’s remarriage. It would mean that at last the awkward subject of establishment would be properly aired. In reality, of course, it will not be: there might be a few dissenting noises at this week’s synod, but the royal marriage is off the agenda and there is no will to address the root issue.
Were the Church more open about its doubts concerning its established status, much of the nation would sympathise. It would see a tradition struggling to be truthful. Instead, the average younger person sees a dutiful lapdog, an institution scared of being honest; happy when a prince is tickling its tummy and its theological problems are forgotten.
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Older Anglicans — which means most of them — are generally keen to see the monarch’s role as supreme governor smoothly confirmed. But the Church cannot play to its ageing royalist audience for very much longer. It should not want to be the ecclesiastical version of Lord St John of Fawsley.
It desperately needs to interest people in its version of Christianity; but establishment is a major turn-off. Before 2002, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, would have agreed with this analysis. Being Welsh, he had never had to pledge allegiance to the Queen, and he looked upon the establishment of the Church of England with scepticism. In 2000 he said: “I think that the notion of the monarch as supreme governor has outlived its usefulness. I believe increasingly that the Church has to earn the right to be heard by the social world. Establishment is just one of those things that make it slightly harder.”In 2002, when he began to be talked about as a contender for Canterbury, these remarks were dug up, and he hastily issued a press release in an attempt to re-bury them. “This is a matter which is quite clearly not at the top of the agenda for the Church of England,” he assured us. It is a shame that Dr Williams has not been more open about his doubts. For they are longstanding, and central to his theology. As long ago as 1998 he gave warning against any idea of “the Church’s guardianship of the Christian character of a nation . . . which so easily becomes the Church’s endorsement of the de facto structures and constraints of the life of a sovereign state.”
Upon his appointment to Canterbury, he shoved his disestablishing sympathies into the closet. Surely he should reach out to those with similar feelings — young, confused Anglicans especially — and tell them it’s OK. It’s OK to feel slightly nauseated by grand occasions of state, to feel that royalist pageantry stifles the spirit of Jesus Christ; and the occasional republican fantasy is nothing to be ashamed of.
Instead, he seems to have taken fright at the weakness of the Church. Maybe one cannot afford to be too honest, when Christian values are so precarious in this culture. Maybe an honest discussion of establishment would make the institution look muddled, weak and inward-looking. Better to look tough and united. Better to keep one’s core constituency on board, and make pleasant noises about the rich national legacy of the Christian monarchy. If in doubt, play the holy heritage card — it will always please the millions of lukewarm, middle-class Anglicans.
And there is another reason to keep deferring the disestablishment debate. The argument about homosexual ordination has shown the Church to be a very shaky marriage between the poles of liberal Catholics and conservative Evangelicals. This frail coalition might collapse without establishment. So it is a genuinely dangerous topic in the present climate.
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It has already been said a number of times that the Church came into existence over a controversial royal marriage, so it can hardly object to this one. Well, most things have changed in 500 years. For example, Charles could not have decided to have Diana publicly beheaded.
The Church of England really ought to have modernised itself over the past few centuries. By remaining attached to the monarchy it has opted to become part of the heritage industry. A sensible enough decision in some ways — it means no end of interest from tourists and plenty of merchandising opportunities. But it means that it is no longer a convincing or compelling form of Christianity.
Theo Hobson is author of Against Establishment: an Anglican Polemic