United Dioceses of Cork, Cloyne and Ross
Diocesan Synod Address
by The Right Rev. Dr Paul Colton,
Bishop of Cork, Cloyne and Ross
on 5th October 2024, in Bandon Grammar School, Bandon, County Cork
We meet again, as a Diocesan Synod, in this 26th year of my episcopate, in the name of God, the Holy Trinity, who has called us to be the Church in this place: Cork, Cloyne and Ross.
About a month ago, having been one of those who pioneered a church presence on Twitter, now known as X, I decided I could no longer remain on that social media platform. One of the last tweets I saw was this one posted by the Reverend Bosco Peters, a priest from New Zealand who is passionate about liturgy and spirituality and how those integrate with the internet. In that tweet he said: ‘Praying for those to be ordained to the diaconate in the Cardboard Cathedral, Christchurch, this morning.’
It grabbed my attention; ordination to the diaconate, a ministry of service, in a temporary structure, following a tragedy, seemed like a powerful parable and paradigm in itself.
The Cardboard Cathedral was built temporarily to replace Christchurch Cathedral on the South Island of New Zealand following the destruction of that nineteenth century stone cathedral building in the catastrophic earthquake of 22nd February 2011 in which 183 people were killed. Their solid, permanent looking church building was destroyed. Ever since they have had to worship and minister in something that is provisional, transient and temporary; built to last only 50 years. The Cardboard Cathedral is A-frame in style. It rises 24 metres (79 ft). It incorporates 86 cardboard tubes weighing 500 kilograms (1,100 lb) each atop 6 metre (20 ft) long containers. There is timber and steel too, as well as polycarbonate elements.
It was designed by the Japanese architect Shigeru Ban who is known for his innovative work with paper and recycled cardboard, all of which he has used to channel into designs to house quickly the victims of disasters. It’s no surprise that his nickname is ‘the emergency architect.’ In an interview, in response to that he said:
‘The names people give me aren’t important; it’s what I do. I work on humanitarian architectural projects and I bring aid solutions in the wake of increasingly complex natural and human disasters.’
The Cardboard Cathedral in Christchurch, south island, New Zealand speaks to me, on the one hand, of fragility and vulnerability, as well as the transient nature of the human predicament in general, and, on the other hand, the journey of disciples in faith, as a people constantly on the move, on pilgrimage, with strong roots of faith through our ancestors of faith, in exile, in migration, and in a nomadic way of life. As our ancestors in the faith became settled in a new land, they were reminded constantly to remember those nomadic roots as migrants and as aliens.
‘A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous.(Deuteronomy 26.5)
As if to make the point, originally the Cardboard Cathedral was known as the Transitional Cathedral. So much of life is, indeed, transitional and provisional. There is vulnerability and fragility for we are just passing through.
For me, all of this resonates with where we have come from as a people of faith. We too easily forget the powerful dynamic that was so real to our ancestors in faith who journeyed in the wilderness, who experienced exile and who lived in tents. This transience was very real to them. There are countless references to tents in the scriptures. Tents are temporary. The people of faith needed them because they were constantly on the move. We don’t really like that impermanence and insecurity. And yet, the way of Abraham is commended to us as a paradigm of faith. Here, in the letter to the Hebrews, for example:
By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he stayed for a time in the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. (Hebrews 11.8-9)
As we begin to reflect on some of the challenges that lie ahead, I’d like us today to recall that like Abraham, we are still called, ‘to set out, not knowing where [we are] going.’ And we are all too conscious that 3.6% of the world’s population in 2020 – 281 million internationally – are actually migrants, many to escape war, conflict, persecution or large-scale human rights violations.
Even though we are a settled people, we still set out ‘by faith … living’ in ‘tents’ of many contemporary metaphorical kinds in countless life experiences that we encounter and go through. The ‘not-knowing’ and the uncertainty should not terrify us; we should accept it and embrace it as the way of faith.
Precarious Times
That does not mean that the way of faith is easy, especially against the backdrop of these menacing and dangerous times. As we look at events in the world, geopolitically, it’s hard not to feel that we are living in precarious times. The resuscitation of the nuclear threat against the backdrop of the war in Ukraine is terrifying. The situation in the Middle East that has been unfolding catastrophically and intensely for a year on Monday next since Hamas invaded Israel with all that has happened since and is still happening before our very eyes in the past days and hours. A presidential election looms in the United States. A General Election is anticipated here. These are just some of the factors that feed into uncertainty about the future.
History repeating itself?
I was listening recently to Kaja Kallas, the first female prime minister of Estonia, who was in office until July this year. She speaks powerfully against the background of her own family’s story. At the age of six months her mother, together with her grandmother were deported, in March 1949, to Siberia as part of Operation Priboi. They spent 10 years there in a Siberian Gulag labour camp. Operation Priboi – operation tidal wave – was the code name for the Stalin-era mass deportation from the Baltic States. More than 70% of those deported on railroad cattle cars were either women, or children under the age of 16. More than 35,000 people – designated by Stalin as enemies of the people simply because they were ‘kulaks’ – peasant owners of farms of typically between 8 and 12 acres, and were seen as in the way of the Stalinist policy of collectivization – were deported 75 years ago this year. That was just 11 years before I was born. That family returned home just the year before I was born. It’s not that long ago, but these are the things many seem to have forgotten as old and dangerous ideologies seem to be resuscitated in contemporary debates.
Reflecting on current events, mindful of her own daily’s experience, Kaja Kallas simply said this:
‘We are seeing and hearing things that we thought we would never see or hear again.’
That appears to be the scary truth, as we witness so much that is happening around us, including the renewed rise of extreme right wing political outlooks around Europe, rooted in the Nazism that we thought had been vanquished and banished. You only have to look at this week’s election successes of Herbert Kickl and his far-right Austrian Freedom Party of Austria with 28.9% of the vote.
Indeed:
‘We are seeing and hearing things that we thought we would never see or hear again.’ (Kaja Kallas)
‘Lessons that we thought were learned appear not to have been learned.’ (Kaja Kallas)
The lessons of history have not been learnt. History risks repeating itself in countless ways, and it is scary.
Our Christian Witness in the Big Issues of our Time
In a very divided society, about very divisive and emotive issues, it is still, nonetheless, our calling, to bring a Christian witness to bear on everything, even though this is increasingly challenging and we may be held up to ridicule, opposition or even contempt, as I and some of you have been because of our work with refugees and asylum seekers. Then, in relation to many issues, we find that as Christians or as churches, we are not of one mind on the great matters that society is facing. These are all the more reasons not to be simplistic or cavalier about complex issues. Multi-faceted complex issues require inter-disciplinary responses and, so often lacking, new thinking. So many of the great issues of our time seem to be beyond our resolution: homelessness, the planning process, hospital waiting times and trolleys, adequate capitation grants for school children, and putting in place, for once and for all, an efficient and fair process of adjudicating on the applications of asylum seekers and refugees.
So here we are as disciples of Jesus, worshipping God, praying about all of these things in addition to our own concerns and preoccupations in our own lives, proclaiming the Gospel, and doing our best, faithfully, to bring the law of God to bear on all that is happening to us and around us:
‘Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?’ He said to him, ‘ “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.’ (Matthew 22.36-40)
Jesus was quite clear when he spoke about how we are to put this love into action:
‘… for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” (Matthew 25.31-36)
A Sobering thought – the unthinkable can and does happen
In the course of my Episcopal Visitation this year I have referred regularly to the Visitation undertaken by Bishop Dive Downes between 1699 and 1702. In his day the Reformation was a relatively young movement within Christianity, but a traumatic one. This was an era of war and upheaval in Ireland. There had been the Irish Revolution in 1641. The Williamite War raged from 1689 to 1691. The Siege of Cork was in 1690. Go and look at the cannonball hanging in today’s cathedral as evidence of it. By 1693 only 25 of the churches in this Diocese had roofs on them. This was also the era of the Penal Laws.
Bishop Downes refers to churches in the notes of his visitation which I have accessed, and, in part, I have retraced his steps in the course of my visitation this year. He is preoccupied with the quality and value of the lands and who owns them. He writes about the state of the Protestant faith. To the fore are his observations about church buildings and whether or not churchyards have proper boundaries. He is concerned about how many people are coming to church and whether or not they are being confirmed and are receiving the sacrament. He is checking whether or not churches are properly equipped for worship. A very common note in his Episcopal visitation about church buildings simply says ‘Tis ruinous.’ Yet, he never seems to despair even when on occasion he writes about one of our parishes in those times ‘No Church. No Curate. No Protestants.’
His references to church buildings set me thinking. I went through it all again yesterday. Not one of the church buildings he mentions is still intact and in use today. In their own way they were all transient – of their time – and when we look around today, all of the buildings he refers to lie in ruins in the parishes where we are currently worshipping. There is no trace of some of them. Some are in ruins on old ecclesiastical sites that you can still visit. Some have been built over and replaced by something new. These ruins – all over the country – are a sobering and stark reminder that over the centuries the Church has had no option but to adapt and change, and that sometimes we fall victim to circumstances imposed upon us.
The closure of Jackie Lennox’s on the Bandon Road tomorrow has pulled people up. Familiar and reliable landmarks shift. Change happens. Sometimes it needs to happen, but we need to plan for change rather than being at the mercy of change. The most painful and unsettling changes in the diocese over the years have been, I believe, those that are either inevitable by circumstances or are inflicted on us. Much better to plan rationally and realistically, as a people of faith, trusting in what God has in store for us.
In so many ways we all live in a cardboard ‘Church’. As disciples, fragility and vulnerability, uncertainty and change are inherent in our calling. In so many ways we still live in tents
Episcopal Visitation 2024 – Thank you
As I reflect on my Episcopal Visitation this year I want to thank you all for all that you are and all that you. Through you as members of this Diocesan Synod, I would like my thanks – my message of gratitude and appreciation, to go back to each and every person in the Diocese. I especially thank everyone for the warmth of your welcome to me in the course of my visits this year. 112 visits have been completed, and I am now in the final stages of this part of the Visitation, with 9 more places to visit. A lot of trees have been planted. I know she will kill me for saying so, but I have to express a special thanks to my wife Susan who has accompanied me throughout. Given my life-changing medical events of recent years, I simply could not have undertaken this visitation this year, on top of all my usual round of ministry, without her presence and practical assistance.
On this visitation, what stands out for me is the faithfulness of the people who I have met, as well as the way that the places of worship are cherished, valued and cared for, and also the importance attached to the church community in each place. These are truly things to treasure, to be thankful for and upon which we can continue to build. I thank you all. That is what I shall be writing up in my contemporary testimony about Cork, Cloyne and Ross.
Our own concerns
That is not to say that we do not face challenges. We know that many things in society and in the Church have changed and are changing beyond recognition. However, the first point of engagement is recognition: naming what the issues are, based, not on impressions or personal feeling, but on facts.
An Episcopal Visitation doesn’t only include the visits, the encounters and the observations. There is also the information and fact-gathering. There is the task of trying to relate all of that to information from other sources, such as the Censuses taken by the State. When the visits end at the start of next month, my next task, in the dark hours of the winter will be to pray and reflect, and to write it all up for printing, as I have done on four other other previous Episcopal Visitations of the Diocese since 1999: in 2001, 2006, 2011, and 2016 – five yearly intervals, with the present one being postponed until now due to the Coronavirus Pandemic.
As we assemble as a Synod, it is right that we look now at some of the challenges which are closer to home, in our own fellowship, that we all know about, to name, and to reflect and pray about, and to be pragmatic about with greater intentionality. You have heard me speak about some of them before.
Episcopal Visitation 2024 – Some Numbers
I am grateful for all the work done by clergy, churchwardens and select vestry members in completing the various returns on the forms I have sent out in the course of my visitation this year. Your hard homework is valued and useful. The information provided gives us hard facts, which are better for praying and planning than impressions and that awful maxim ‘people are saying’.
So what is the current state of play? And let’s be clear, numbers are only one, incomplete way of looking at a Diocese and what we do, but they still cannot be ignored Again this year we produced the card ‘Our Diocese by Numbers’ It shows that an awful lot is being done in our tiny diocese in all sorts of ways in response to God’s call. Again, thank you.
According to returns submitted in response to my recent Episcopal Visitation, the parish records of the Diocese are currently showing that:
- there are 3,195 households in the parishes of the Diocese, and
- that in terms of individuals, there are 7,129 individuals in the Diocese.
This is not a lot different from 8 years ago when I asked for similar information in 2016. That year there were 3,287 households (92 more) and 7,139 individuals (10 more). Analysis of the individual parishes shows, however, that some places are growing and some places are shrinking and this is something that we will need to reflect upon in the Ministry Advisory Group which was set up by the Diocesan Council some years ago to help us to look at the ministry needs and deployment within the Diocese.
Let me put it this way, when I arrived in the Diocese in 1999, one parish was designated for part-time ministry on a house-for-duty basis only by virtue of its size. It was the smallest. As of last month, there are now 4 other parishes which are smaller than it; two of those have whole time incumbents. One other parish which is currently designated for half-time ministry has grown, and it is now more populous than 8 other parishes in the Diocese. Information such as this will have to give us pause for thought. All of these are things that will have to be looked at and taken into consideration, prayerfully and pragmatically, in consultation together in the years ahead.
State Census 2022 and Census of Episcopal Visitation 2024
As ever, it is when we look at the State census we see particular challenges and opportunities, as well as factors to guide us in shaping our pastoral ministry and outreach. First of all, there is the perpetual gap between what we have on our parish lists, and what people, in the privacy of their homes are putting on the State census. I already gave you our own figures for 2024: 3,195 households and 7,129 individuals,
The State Census taken in 2022 shows, however, that in Cork (leaving out the Ardmore/Waterford part of our Diocese) there are 13,881 people who identify as Church of Ireland. Where are and who are the 6,752 others? Even allowing for those we have taken off our lists because they appear to have shown no interest of late or because they no longer come, that is still a significant gap. That gap is not new, it has manifested itself in every census for as long as most people can remember; but it is a challenge to outreach and pastoral care.
Incidentally, 13,881 is a higher number than the Census in 1961, the year after I was born. That year there were 10,511 Church of Ireland people in Cork. Today’s figure is even higher than that in the census of 1946, when there were 11,531. In 2002, the first State Census of my episcopate the number was 12,699.
As I said, however, numbers alone are an incomplete picture for they do not take account of a complex web of dynamics that are seen through other looking glasses such as those of sociology, psychology, anthropology, human geography, demography, political outlook, behavioural science and so much more. Put simply, we all know that people are ‘believing and belonging’ differently than they did in 1961, or even in 2002. Our own observations tell us that the pace of change has accelerated.
The State Census does provide other information that should stimulate our pastoral and missiological responses. There are dozens of insights but I share just a few:
- In April 2022 in Cork, almost 128,600 people (22% of the county’s population) reported experiencing at least one long-lasting health condition or difficulty to any extent.: pastoral care.
- The number of people who usually lived in Ireland but were born elsewhere stood at 20% of the population: one in five. Diversity.
- The number of same-sex couples increased by 157% compared with 2011. Inclusion.
- In Census 2022, 8% of all people in private households lived alone, including 44% of those aged 85 years and over.
- 6,528 members of the Church of Ireland in Cork City or County are single. People who live alone.
- 767 members of the Church of Ireland in Cork City or County are separated or divorced.
- 733 members of the Church of Ireland in Cork City or County are widowed. Bereavemenet support.
- 14% of the population reported that they had no religion. That is a 187% increase since 2016. In 2021 in Northern Ireland the percentage was 17.4%.
- In Cork that proportion is 16%: a 62% increase since 2016.
What do factors like this mean for the shape and sensitivities of our ministry through our parishes and chaplaincies? How do we configure our ministry – outreach and pastoral work – using this information?
Incidentally, in 2017, the British Attitudes Survey among our nearest neighbours in Britain found that the number of people with ‘no religion’ had tipped to more than half at 53%. In England and Wales in their census of 2021, the number of Christians was fewer than one half for the first time.
All of this, I believe, shows us that in a very real sense we are all living in a ‘Cardboard Cathedral’ type of church. That calls for a response of deep faith, practical engagement, strong and well-delivered traditional patterns of ministry, alongside a new, innovative and pioneering approach to ministry. This engagement is not confined to parish and chaplaincy ministry. There are many agencies represented in this room that work hard in these areas too. And, as her term in office comes to an end, I want to thank and mention the work done through Mothers’ Union, led by the current Diocesan President, Hilary Dring.
Ministry in the gaps
I have no doubt that pioneering ministries – more nebulous in nature because they cannot be measured in terms of the proverbial ‘bums on pews’ or financial contributions – are carried out in our chaplaincies. In hospitals, care settings, universities and colleges, schools and in all sorts of sector ministries, the canvas and tapestry of potential encounters are far broader – much more expansive – than anything embodied on a parish list. That is why I have made partnership with other institutions and agencies to allow investment in these ministries a priority of my time as bishop. These are ministries where people are, and to where they turn of necessity and where many work. These are ministries on the edge, not bounded by the walls of a traditional ecclesiastical framework. I sincerely thank all who work in these human contexts.
Age Groups
A factor of significant importance for us as we respond to the pastoral needs and opportunities in our midst is the breakdown of ages. With the exception of the group under the age of 4 years, this has remained broadly unchanged in the episcopal visitations in the last 25 years. The breakdown now is:
| Age Group | % |
| 4 years and under | 3.8% |
| 5 to 12 years | 10% |
| 13 to 18 years | 9.93% |
| 19 to 30 years | 10.53% |
| 31 to 60 years | 32.2% |
| 61+ years | 33.52% |
This has enduringly continued to manifest in the Diocese as three broad age bands, broadly equivalent in size as follows:
| Under 30 | 34.36% |
| 31 to 60 | 32.2% |
| 61+ | 33.52% |
Where are they now?
Now we all know that that equivalence is not manifested in many areas of church life, including church attendance and church involvement. One thing that people sometimes say to me is ‘there are no young people in the Church.’ Spurred on by doubts about the accuracy of that assertion, earlier this year I asked clergy to work with parishioners to analyse the lists of those young people who I have confirmed in my 25 years as Bishop.
The results are interesting:
| % | |
| In parish and active | 20.5% |
| In parish but inactive | 33% |
| Elsewhere in the Diocese permanently | 11% |
| Elsewhere in Ireland permanently | 11.4% |
| Abroad for the foreseeable future | 10.3% |
| Deceased | .2% |
| Unknown | 13.6% |
Different people and different mindsets will see different things looking at that table. What do you see?
- Do you see that just over ⅕ are still in our parishes and active? That there lies potential for engagement, pastoral care and dialogue, that this should shape our parish life? Or
- Do you see the 33% who are there but not active? And if you see them, what do you think we should do about it or can do about? What are our options and plans to re-engage with them, to listen to them, to dialogue with them and to get them involved? Or
- Were you aware that another ⅓ – 32.9% are somewhere else? In the olden days – pre-GDPR – it was part of the discipline of clergy to write to those other places commending them to the pastoral care of their new parson and parish. That is no longer permitted unless people volunteer the information themselves. This is where contact with young adults through media such as Instagram, allows us to keep in touch at one level. That is how, for example, I find I am still in occasional dialogue with some of that cohort, and sometimes pastoral issues arise, such as one recently for a marriage abroad, or another, when I was able to arrange for an Anglican chaplain in a hospital on another continent to go to visit someone badly injured following an accident. Contact is good. Some of these people come home and reappear. And
- What can we do about the 13.6% who are unknown? Actually, one half of those who are unknown, are in one very large suburban parish, which is hardly surprising, but I have already suggested to the rector that we might get a broader team together to try to narrow that group down further.
All of this highlights the importance of the wonderful work being done by our Cork Diocesan Youth Council and our Diocesan Youth Office, Hilda Connolly.
Children and Family Ministry Ministry
Some of this should spur us on in our engagement with children and young people. It endorses our work with schools where often those with little to no other connection with the church are encountered. One of the absolute joys of this year’s Episcopal Visitation were my visits to the schools. I want to pay tribute to everyone associated with the work of our schools at every level of the education system.
However, we cannot place the burden of Christian education, teaching and handing on the faith to children and young people, to schools. The primary place for that to happen is in family life. How do we support families in that? How do our churches make children and families welcome and create space for them. Earlier this year I gave each member of the clergy and each member of our Diocesan Children and Family Ministry Group a copy of the book Beyond the Children’s Corner by Margaret Pritcahrd Houston.
This is an objective for the coming years starting now: that we all take a good look at our setup and our approach to and provision for children and families to do the best we can in this important area of ministry. The Children’s and Family Ministry Group is developing a programme for use in each parish and, the first version of that will be given a trial run in two parishes – Kinsale Union and Cobh and Glanmire Union – before it is commended to you all.
Be in no doubt about the importance of this. This headline in yesterday’s London Times pulled me up first thing in the morning: Britain enters first ‘atheist age’ as number of non-believers surges. I shared the statistics with you already, but it was this first line of the article by the science and religious affairs correspondent, Kaya Burgess, that caught my breath:
‘Britain is entering its “first atheist age” as parents increasingly fail to pass on religious beliefs to their children, according to the largest study of its kind.’
The research shows that
‘…children generally need to be taught religion, noting that “in the absence of fairly strong social cues, religion does fade” between generations.’
Church-Going
Another area I have prioritised to highlight this year is church-going. As you know from other things I have said and written earlier this year and last year, I believe that, in the wake of the Coronavirus Pandemic when unavoidable change in behaviour was required, we now continue to rebuild in many areas of church life, including in that core area of our responsibility and calling as Christians: being together for public worship in Church. Churchgoing numbers for 2023 are tentatively encouraging, but I hope we can be more proactive in encouraging people to re-engage and to come back to join us. Earlier this year I supplied each rector and priest-in-charge with the figures for the last ten years in their particular parish and for each church building in their parish. This is not to overwhelm, but rather for prayerful and practical reflection, in a shared way.
While the overall numbers I have already presented to you have remained pretty constant, there is no doubt that there is a downward trend in many places and, as a result, an overall drop in attendance on average Sunday. This is consonant with what the national censuses in the CHurch of Ireland are showing. Not surprisingly, here, the biggest drop was between 2019 and 2022 – during the covid years. That said, in 2023, there was a slight improvement again. In 2023, in 13 of our 25 worship unions/groups there had been increases in church attendance over the previous year. Attendance in eight was much the same as the previous year; and a minority, just 4 places, showed a drop in attendance in 2023 since 2022. Attendance at very early morning services had dropped significantly, largely because some of those Services did not resume after the pandemic. On the other hand, attendance at occasional evening services increased very significantly. All food for thought.
Everyone is working really hard in this area to encourage people and to reach out to them and I thank you all for that. Are there ideas we can share with one another or learn from others? There are lots of things that are challenging to grapple with, such as people’s outlook and change of habits, or setting of priorities, but I also think there are some practical and straightforward things that we can address together, and I hope to share these with parishes in due course in order to get everyone thinking in this area. At the end of the day, under God, the future lies with the purposeful intent and engagement of the people of the diocese in their local churches. We cannot sustain ministries or keep open church buildings if people seem to be saying they no longer need them.
Church Buildings – how we use them
A full church for a funeral is not a sign of life. Too many of our churches are configured for the very odd occasion when most of the seats might be needed. What about the rest of the time? Of course heritage has to be taken into account and respected, but should we be looking more creatively, as some places have done, at how we use the spaces we have – space we pay for, heat, insure and maintain – to use those spaces more creatively for ministry and mission – for the the things we need to do and want to do in our community life as together, we seek to fulfil the Five Marks of Mission.
Recently Susan and I went on pilgrimage to England. We sought out the Bishop Bennet Way, named after Bishop William Bennet of Cloyne, who studied the Roman roads of Britain, and we journeyed on part of that 27 km route in Cheshire. We had been also on pilgrimage to Walsingham and to the mediaeval churches of Norfolk – the most densely churched area of the Anglican world – 650 churches in all; nearly everyone with heritage value, and lots going back to the 13th and 14th Century. The thing that struck me in all of the ones we visited – every single one of them in Norfolk that we visited was open during the week – was how, even in those precious heritage places, room had been made for contemporary ministry alongside worship and spirituality: space for children, for hospitality, for outreach to tourists and visitors, for explaining and proclaiming the faith, and for other activities in the community.
In this together
Earlier this week we witnessed the Budget Speech in Dáil Éireann of the Minister for Finance, Jack Chambers, T.D. Budget Speeches are eagerly anticipated. Human nature being what it is, I think most of us respond to the Budget Speech by asking the simple question ‘How will it affect me?’ ‘ Most of us, as ordinary citizens, are at its mercy. Its consequences are something that we have to live with. There is also the expectation that the Minister in particular, and the Government, general, will do what needs to be done to sort out the problems we have and the challenges we are facing as a society, as communities and as individuals, by providing the resources needed to address all those concerns.
The Church is not like that and your Bishop is not like that. In my presidential address I do not come here today having made decisions off my own bat that will automatically be implemented and have consequences for us all. That’s not how it works. We are a synod – a word with origins in two greek words: syn and hodos which mean, respectively, together and way. We are here to find a way together – an assembly under God’s guidance and blessing to reflect on the way and to find a way forward together.
This is the Pentecost model in the wake of the resurrection. ‘When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place …’ (Acts 2.1) And what were they doing? They were worshipping and praying. They were filled with the Spirit and what happened? ‘…the Spirit enabled them.’ (Acts 2.4)
‘They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. … All the believers were together and had everything in common.’ (Acts 2.42-47)
Is that how we see it? That togetherness? That shared intent and purpose – meeting the needs around us – praising God with ‘glad and sincere hearts’? That is what we are about. Our programme Charting a Future with Confidence and the principles it laid down continue to be the framework for working out our Christian calling in this part of the Church.
Thinking beyond ourselves
However, we must not think only about ourselves. ‘Who is my neighbour?’ My neighbour isn’t only the person who lives next door to us, who is like us, who we know and have a vested interest in getting along with. We constantly need to think beyond our own needs.
One of the most misquoted quotations is the one that is only partially quoted, namely ‘Charity begins at home.’ How often do we hear that said or quipped in the midst of the divisive debates about so many issues. ‘Charity begins at home’ is a misquotation. It is only part of the original quotation which was popularised in the 17th Century by the clergyman, the Reverend Thomas Fuller. The entire quotation goes like this: ‘Charity begins at home but does not end there.’ And in any case, in the era in which it was framed, it was a reference to caritas. ‘And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. (1 Corinthians 13.13)
The people of this Diocese are not only generous to our own parishes, chaplaincies and causes, but have always looked beyond themselves. Forty years ago last year I myself was dispatched by Bishop Sam Poyntz, while I was visiting Kenya under the auspices of CMSI, to engage with the theological students who were being sponsored and supported by the people of this Diocese. That tradition has continued. We recently completed our project with Burundi. And I am delighted that today, when I sit down, we will hear about our new partnership with Sierra Leone, through Christian Aid and the Bishops’ Appeal. Today that will be launched: Liloma.
Small Places
In my Episcopal Visitation this year I have rediscovered a strong affection and appreciation for small local communities. As part of my pilgrimage earlier this year, inspired in my own Episcopal Visitation this year, by my reliance on the Episcopal Visitation 325 years ago of Bishop Dive Downes, I went to the place of his birth: Thornby in Northamptonshire – a tiny hamlet surrounded by grain growing and ripening seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with a population of just 189 people. In the middle of the 17th century this was the village where Dive Downes was born. His father was the rector. We saw the 14th Century Church dedicated to St Helen, where Dive Downes was baptised.
Later that week, we visited an even smaller hamlet not far from the north Norfolk coast, called Burnham Thorpe with a population of only 144. In the middle of the 18th Century, Edmund Nelson was rector, and yes, he was the father of the man who became Admiral Horatio Nelson, and this is where Nelson was baptised.
I am reminded of the parable of the mustard seed – told almost identically in all three synoptic Gospels – Matthew, Mark and Luke:
‘He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.” (Matthew 13.31-32)
Small places can affect things greatly. Small places can bear fruit in life-changing ways. Small places and small steps can result in significant journeys. So then, like Abraham, let us set out, in faith, not knowing where we are going.
+Paul Cork:
5th October 2024
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