Killing me softly, with his hymn

The reactionary trend in Anglicanism showcases an unbelievable ignorance, even by the standards of our fellow primates; its number will not be pleased at the latest pronouncement that the Church is to apologise, at last, to Charles Darwin:

The Church of England will concede in a statement that it was over-defensive and over-emotional in dismissing Darwin’s ideas. It will call “anti-evolutionary fervour” an “indictment” on the Church”.

The bold move is certain to dismay sections of the Church that believe in creationism and regard Darwin’s views as directly opposed to traditional Christian teaching.

The apology, which has been written by the Rev Dr Malcolm Brown, the Church’s director of mission and public affairs, says that Christians, in their response to Darwin’s theory of natural selection, repeated the mistakes they made in doubting Galileo’s astronomy in the 17th century.

“The statement will read: Charles Darwin: 200 years from your birth, the Church of England owes you an apology for misunderstanding you and, by getting our first reaction wrong, encouraging others to misunderstand you still. We try to practise the old virtues of ‘faith seeking understanding’ and hope that makes some amends.”

Opposition to evolutionary theories is still “a litmus test of faithfulness” for some Christian movements, the Church will admit. It will say that such attitudes owe much to a fear of perceived threats to Christianity.

But wait.

Ever since the Enlightenment exposed the Church’s intellectual poverty, English Christians have drifted from the mainstream, and piety has slunk indoors and tumbled down the generations in a total daze. Many then and today have doubtless been tormented by their uncertainties which Bishops and Archbishops spent decades simply ignoring. People believed, but they had no idea what; and their prayers went unanswered and no vicar could say why (in 1904 The Telegraph ran a poll, entitled “Do we believe?”, eliciting this very ambivalence). Scientific progress, and the Church’s oscillating leaps between hysterical expulsion and embrace of it, was a powerful element of this.

And now, at last, a minor magnate has proffered an apology – to a single dead man. One who, it seems, was more than strong enough to stand up to the religious bullying thrust upon him. Nothing to see here, folks!

But it does, at the very least, shed perspective on why the Church has never apologised for the banner it raised over the millions murdered in the name of God, King, country and empire nearly a century ago. The ivory tower must be very lovely indeed.

Advertisements

The Absurd Hysteria of a Dethroned Church

Lord Carey

Lord Carey using the Force in his latest attempt to change the votes of the 400 pro-marriage equality MPs.

Had its bishops been a little more flamboyant, Charlie Chaplin’s quip that “in the light of our own egos, we are all dethroned monarchs” might just have become the motto of the Church of England. To hear nothing beyond Lord Carey’s recent bombast one might be forgiven for thinking that David Cameron had recently led an anti-theist coup to purge England of all things non-infidel:

More shockingly, the Equalities Minister, Helen Grant, recently gave her support to the Labour MP Chris Bryant’s campaign to turn the 700-year-old Parliamentary chapel of St Mary Undercroft into a multi-faith prayer room so that gay couples can get married there. The Speaker of the House of Commons is reported to be supportive of the move.

Thankfully, he elected not to predict from the omens that by dawn we’ll be burning Protestants like it’s 1554. But more:

Lord Carey also that said a recent ComRes poll suggested “more than two-thirds of Christians feel that they are part of a ‘persecuted minority'”.

“Their fears may be exaggerated because few in the UK are actually persecuted, but the prime minister has done more than any other recent political leader to feed these anxieties.”

Ah, yes. The same Cameron whose homage to our “Christian roots” will go down as one of the most embarrassing pretensions to conservatism our political establishment has seen for some years.

The bemused reader of Carey, like myself, has plenty about which to be irritated. Much like its counterpart in Tehran, 26 places are reserved specifically for the Anglican episcopate in the House of Lords; the Church’s governor is the British head of state in Queen Lizzie; on paper, at least, it is our national church. Were these merely quaint anachronisms I doubt anyone would seriously care. I might oppose it on moral and constitutional grounds but be somewhat indisposed to that extra bit of administrative waste, being the history student with a curious affection for old things that I am.

And yet it would seem that no matter how many times these points are rehearsed they will never quell the arrogance of the Anglican Church – because these legislative tidbits are more like nourishing provocateurs than comforts for the senile. That the Church has in its history sunk to the most abysmal depths of the worst criminal acts should give it cause for humility; for having opposed attempts to end the African slave trade, for opposing the emancipation of gays and women in the 1960s, for administering African colonies on behalf of the British crown, for waving the flag in 1914 as young men marched like cattle into gunfire and never dropping it. That is not the record fitting for complacency, and fitting even less as a precedent to a panicky manifesto to a secular Parliament.

So when Carey cries “persecution” one ought to be astonished, and yet is somehow embarrassed and vaguely confused. The Tudor dynastic church, scrambled together in the bedroom of Henry VIII, now ranks in matters of sexual morality far below the condom machine. And psychiatrists love to remind us that relationships begin to fall apart when the sex dries up. That’s why it’s so farcical and not at all tragic: the absurd hysteria of Anglican figures is fueled by the knowledge that, deep down, their political authority is as hollow as the crown of Richard II. It wasn’t after all always so easy to get the Church to admit that its members are now in a minority.

But Lord Carey’s remarks are as insulting as much as they are arrogant: and none less, would you believe it, than to Christians worldwide. The sad irony is that they are probably the most persecuted religious group on the planet, alongside the Jews: in the Middle-East, China, North Korea, parts of India, north Africa and even Turkey, Christians simply for their beliefs and practices might face anything from exclusion from office to death. The ideology that once gave moral directorship to imperialism has now created victims in its modern adherents. To compare this with secularism – with the position of the equality of religious and non-religious outlooks – is a pompous disgrace, one which probably won’t humiliate the Church as much as it should.

Back in Britain it would seem that the Church is dying in the bed in which it was born, brought as it was into England feeding on the marital morality of which today it is starved. It can’t stop gay marriage – how dreadful. I never really cared for it until the Church revealed why they thought it was so important to oppose it. Indeed, one can only hope for one final divorce: not just from Rome, but from Parliament. Kick out the bishops, democratise the Lords and we really will have true freedom conscience in this country.

To Chaplin’s earlier quoted line might be added another, that “life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.” Think of that with the Anglican Church, who might like many others learn from Shakespeare how a dethroned monarch need not forgo his assured self-respect:

For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!

From the BBC’s “Richard II” of “The Hollow Crown” series.