Church: alive, dying or dead?

Is the Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia alive, dying or dead?

I ask the question as a kick off point to some reflections below, but I am aware in posing the question as such a kick off point that there are friends and colleagues within our church, to say nothing of observers from outside our church who not only pose the question but ask it, sometimes in tones which express concern/empathy/sympathy, sometimes in tones which make me wonder if they are being just a tad triumphalistic about other ways of being church here which are most definitely "alive"!

Recently I have been part of events which have involved gathering people from several corners of our church, and, of course, I continue as bishop to be part of contemporary church life in different ministry units in Canterbury, Westland and the Chatham Islands from Sunday to Sunday. I find myself offering an answer to the question above which is nuanced. It goes like this.

There is no doubt some parts of the church are dead (or, "dead"), meaning that we have lost members (through death, transfer to other denominations, dropping out of regular participation in corporate worship, etc), we have closed churches, we have fewer parishes than we used to, and, in some parishes, we are very concerned about missing generations.

There are also searching questions about whether our church is dying (or, "dying"), meaning that we look around us (at, say, ageing members, fewer attending, smaller offerings) and we look at our statistics for the past whenever years and chart graphs which suggest by 2037 or 2056 or 2071 this diocese, or that diocese or the whole of theAnglican church in these islands - Polynesia likely will be another prognosis - will be gone, finished, deader than Monty Python's parrot. (There are some graphs which do predict years of final demise but those years above are made up by me). We are alive as a church in 2026, but we may not be so some years hence. Thus, we are dying (unless there is revival and resuscitation).

We may not, of course, be doomed to follow the exact path of statistical decline. Apart from what I am about to say about our church being alive (or, "alive") in the next paragraphs, we are a nation of many migrants. While most Christian migrants are Catholic, some are Anglican or are keen to associate with the Anglican church. If we are looking ahead to, say, 2050 (the two hundreth anniversary of the arrival of the First Four Ships of the CofE Settlement of Canterbury), then we cannot predict where migratory patterns might take our Diocese and other episcopal units in our church. (We might also, cheekily, observe - speaking very locally - that some internal migration is taking place these days as cool city Christchurch with a stadium, plentiful housing, jobs, etc is drawing people here, and that is bring new people into our churches). The dying parts of our church may yet reverse, shifting from surviving to thriving. 

Is our church alive? There are definitely thriving congregations, especially in our larger cities. New people are becoming Christians in Anglican contexts. Christians are being drawn to the Anglican way of being Christian and being church. God is - simply being consistent - still in the spiritual business of transforming lives, growing Christians in grace and gifts, and drawing believers deeper into the spiritual nourishment which comes through the ministry of word and sacrament. For some new(ish) Anglicans, it is our comfortableness in being bicultural which is a "drawcard" factor in becoming Anglican. These aspects of church being alive are simply about numbers of people turning up on a Sunday or getting involved in small groups and outreach activities, they are about people journeying ever more deeply into the resurrection life of Christ.

The past couple of weeks have been especially precious through various events which have reminded me of the mixed up life of our church: signs of death, of dying and - thanks be to God - of life.

Palestine and Anglican action?

Yesterday and today our Diocese is part of churches in Christchurch hosting two visiting Palestinian theologians, as part of a speaking tour organised by Aotearoa Christians for Peace in Palestine.

While the names of the theologians are public (e.g. on the site I have just linked to in the preceding paragraph), I am not going to use them here, out of respect for their bravely taking the risk of speaking up for peace in Palestine and thus not wishing anything here to be google-connectible to them. There will enough searchable things from this speaking tour elsewhere.

My reflections on what I have heard (through two sessions yesterday) are, of course, my words and not theirs, but I thank them for illumination and insight which, of course, can only come from those indigenous to the pain and suffering Palestinians are and have been experiencing, not only recently, but since the settlement of the modern state of Israel in 1948.

I am conscious as I offer some reflections that in the last week or so, the Church of England's July session of its General Synod, meeting in York, has somewhat controversially discussed Palestinian matters, as you could see via these links: Ian Paul on Psephizo (opposed to what happened); The Guardian; and reports, one and two, linked to by Thinking Anglicans. My reflections are not a discussion of the Cofe discussion and debate, though I note one vital aspect of those synodical interactions, common to our experiences here through these two days: we must listen to Palestinian Christians. In the cacophany of sound coming from the Middle East: social media, propaganda, news, fake news, information and misinformation, it is highly appropriate that Christians far away listen to the voices of their Palestinian brothers and sisters in Christ.

First, let's keep in mind two Scripture texts cited in one of the talks I heard:

"Speak up for people who cannot speak up for themselves. Protect the rights of all who are helpless. Speak for them and be a righteous judge. Protect the rights of the poor and needy." (Proverbs 31:8-9 GNB)

"See that justice is done - help those who are oppressed, give orphans their rights, and defend widows." (Isaiah 1:17 GNB).

Then, our question could be (and, of course, not only for the situation in Palestine-Israel),

"Do we see people, every one of whom is a human being, and do we value them equally as an image-bearer of God, Israeli and Palestinian, Arab and Jew, those who have citizenship of the State of Israel and those who do not?"

If one thing has impressed itself on me through the past two days, it is the many and varied ways in which Israel de-humanizes Palestinians. This de-humanization is not only through death and destruction - war in Gaza, violent colonization of the West Bank - but also through walls, checkpoints, barbed wire, surveillance, and the like. De-humanization of Palestinians is through displacement as well as through shooting to kill.

This de-humanization is not confined to the actions of Israel. It is also implicit if not explicit in some Christian theologies which support the Zionism which drives Israel's de-humanization: any theology which sees (the modern state of) Israel as the fulfilment of God's promises to ancient Israel consequentially sees Palestinians as a problem to be solved, a people to be displaced because they stand in the way of that fulfilment. But that cannot be right when we (say) focus on Palestinian Christians: they are our brothers and sisters in Christ. In Christ alone are God's promises fulfilled and we Christians outside of Israel-Palestine should not cheer Zionism on with our theologies of fulfilment but challenge and critique Zionism with a correct theology of fulfilment, that asks of Israel how all may find flourishing lives in the region, not least our Palestinian brothers and sisters in Christ.

I have been reminded that when Jesus spoke in the synagogue in Nazareth (Luke 4:16-30), the people hearing him preach were not angry with him when he cited Isaiah 61:1-2 and announced that the passage had come true that very day (v. 21). It was when he went on to talk about Elijah and the healing of Naaman the Syrian that they were "filled with anger" (v. 28). In other words, when Jesus told his Jewish hearers that other nationalities mattered to God, that was too much for them. The kingdom of God is the upside-down kingdom which includes all peoples, not just some and excludes the rest.

It has been good to listen to Palestinian Christian voices.

I have other thoughts ... but that will do for today. Next week I might come back to consider the "one state" v "two state" solution to the challenge of how Palestinians and Israelis might live in harmony.

Might the CofE become more like the Anglican Communion?

During the past few days I have come across two well-written reflections on ACC-19, recently held in Belfast, Northern Ireland (i.e. within the provincial territory of the Church of Ireland). These are by no means the only reflections you could read if you google further, but they are two that I appreciate, one because it is a bit uncomfortable for me to read, the other because it is both comforting to read and explains something I hadn't quite understood about where the NCPs were seeking to take the Anglican Communion. That is, too far in the direction of "impaired communion" which, Kelvin Holdsworth, author of one of the two reflections, points out is something the CofE has gotten used to, but just maybe the rest of us (excepting Oz?) have not and do not want to get used to either. (The title of this post reflects a neat line within the Holdsworth reflection).

So,

Anthony Atherstone writes at The Living Church, "Hope for the Communion? Reflections on the Anglican Consultative Council's 2026 Meeting"

Among some criticisms of what went along, which could be summed up (in my words) as "for all the talk of "full communion" there was plenty of acknowledgment that communion in the Communion is "impaired"," we could offer the following as illustrative from what Atherstone writes:

"Another significant resolution thanks IASCUFO for their work on the NCPs and reaffirms

“the vocation of all member Churches of the Anglican Communion to seek to walk together to the highest degree of communion possible one with another, and to learn from our ecumenical conversations how to accommodate differentiation patiently and respectfully.”

By implication, if communion between Anglican provinces is a matter of “degrees”, it is not always “full”. This resolution was brought early in the week, on the first full day of business, but was poorly explained and many delegates felt bounced into giving their assent. This further example of bad process was rightly challenged by Kelvin Holdsworth of the Scottish Episcopal Church, so the resolution was put again at the end of the week, enabling a counted vote on this important affirmation, with 67 votes in favour (including the Archbishop of Canterbury), 7 against, and 3 abstentions. The concept of “degrees of communion” is now increasingly embedded in our descriptions of the Anglican Communion. By naming this reality, we admit our brokenness, an important first step towards healing our wounds."

And,

Klevin Holdsworth writes on his personal blog, "ACC-19 - The Anglican Consultative Council in Belfast".

Perhaps, following up Atherstone's point about "impaired communion" above, it is worth quoting what Holdsworth says on the same theme:

"A further reflection from me is that the idea of being in degrees of communion (or being in impaired communion) is one that needs a good deal more thinking about. I realised during my week in Belfast that it is a phrase that means very different things to different people. We don’t have the idea of being in impaired communion within the polity of the Scottish Episcopal Church. I learned last week that there are plenty of other churches that don’t have this idea within them either. However it is the very stuff that the Church of England is built from. One way of seeing the Nairobi-Cairo Proposals is to see them as somehow taking the deeply flawed (some would say heretical) theology that one can be in impaired communion within your own church and make it normative in the Anglican Communion. The Church of England may think it is acceptable to have dioceses in which bishops are not in full communion with their clergy or indeed with one another – it is quite another thing to get people who don’t have this idea to think that it is in any way a force for good. I’m glad that ACC-19 had no enthusiasm for this way of thinking. So far as I can see the words “being in impaired communion” within a church are little more than a euphemism for denying the legitimacy of ordained women. Many from around the Communion had not grasped that this is the reality of the Church of England.

As I reflect on these conversations, it is my hope that the Church of England will become more like the other churches of the Anglican Communion. That is a far better thing to hope for than that the Anglican Communion should become like the Church of England."

We should note - kind of a marker for a possible future - that I have seen comment since ACC-19 that the Global South movement is setting out a pathway for departure from the Communion (or rearrangement of the Communion?) which is considered and subtle (in contrast to the more abrupt manner of Gafcon).

Cue, perhaps, heading to the whole of Holdsworth's reflections which cover the wonderfulness of the Communion in all its diversity, breadth, growth meeting together with deep common identity and prayfulness.

This world is strange, beautiful and broken

Your indulgence for a rambling kind of post is appreciated. I have no striking thesis to develop this week. I am typing this in the airport at Chatham Island (where our most remote parish is), waiting for our plane to land, it having been delayed because of storms in New Zealand disrupting its flights yesterday. We have been here for five days and had the best weather ever of four trips here over the past eight years.

The Chathams, as always, inspire with the beauty of isolated land sitting in the midst of surrounding seas.

During those five days there has been a good result for the All Blacks under their new coach, some amazing results in the World Cup, a good outcome (in my view) of ACC deliberations re the Nairobi-Cairo Proposals, all kinds of machinations in the Catholic world over the SSPX episcopal ordinations, a Chinese ballistic missile launched into the Pacific Ocean, and, incredibly, President Trump intervening to change the outcome of a red card against an American player and the FIFA President meekly obliging. What a broken world!

I am pleased that the ACC is (at the least) pausing to reflect further on the nature of a Communion which should involve communion with Canterbury rather than not. (See, e.g., this Living Church report).

On a completely different note, I had seen good reports of "Prime Minister", a documentary about Jacinda Ardern's time as our Prime Minister (2017-2023), and last night had a chance to watch it courtesy of Netflix (upon which site it remains for about another 30 hours). I found it very moving (and very well produced, though no surprises there because Jacinda's husband, Clarke Gayford, is a top TV cinematographer). Sure, I know we can have a discussion about the financial legacy of the latter years of her premiership (none of which is mentioned in the film), but the moving part of the film was the humanity of our then PM as she met some huge challenges, with little or no rest between them - raw emotion is involved. Only view if you are comfortable being moved to tears.

Hopefully back to a longer and better focused post next week ... our plane has landed here in the Chathams, ... and life resumes in (very cold, damp) Christchurch.