Why I’ve left the church of England

That’s not a typing error – the lower case for ‘church’ is deliberate. As I’ll explain…

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Yesterday I attended a rite of passage – the ordination of priest into this church.  That event was my swansong – for it marked the end of my Anglican involvement.

I went with a message written on my bosom, seen by a bishop and much of the congregation – especially viewable at communion. I thought: if you’re going to make me kneel before you like Oliver Twist supplicating Beadle to receive from my Lord’s table, you can get an eyeful and see something worth taking in.

 

From now on, I’ll only consider attending events that support loved ones. As this was.

 

It’s not about her that I made her special day my swansong. This has come only from me.

 

I’ve thought carefully about ramifications – whom I may hurt, affect, exclude myself from.

I’m aware of course of good sincere people in the church of England, and some of these are not only known to me, but dear to me. But I cannot agree that all are good but human people trying their best, and that’s enough. That’s a delusional excuse. We often can and should do more.

This isn’t about publicly singling out individuals or churches; I won’t be naming or allowing others to name. The only scrutiny is for individuals and communities to do for themselves.

I’ve ‘walked with the Lord’ over 40 years and attended the whole gamut of the Christian church, often as an involved regular; I’ve had Anglican relationships for half that time.

I’ve felt for some years that the church of England is a chain that I’m uncomfortable being linked with. Studying my nonconformist roots as well as understanding more of how Anglicanism works, I’ve felt an ever rising ire.

My full reasons will need to be an extended essay, if not a book; in note form they are:

The Anglican church’s ethos often clashes with Christ’s teaching who inverts worldly values: it’s old wine in old wine skins (harking both to the Old Testament and pre-reformation). It brings back the middle man, priestly/congregant divide, law based stratified oligarchy.

The Anglican church claims itself ‘The Church of God’ but there are several Christian chains calling themselves The Church (Catholic, Orthodox, Scotland, Dutch, Swiss Reformed) – as well as the denominations who don’t.

It has a history of bullying: for 300 years it effectively barred all but its own from public office and actively persecuted others whilst expecting nonattenders to still pay for their upkeep!

Prestigious families and institutions dominated and recruited ‘livings’ for generations – some still do.

I’ve heard prayers for people dead 400 years because they paid for them in perpetuity.

Anglican churches are festooned with benefactors’ fat cat tombs and mayoral sword rests: I’ve seen a recent public service to install a plaque by a mayor no longer serving.

I’ve even heard of secret services for elitist sexist societies.

Some churches are more interested in promoting their history and quality of their music than their message.

The Anglican church puts its own tradition over scripture and inner guidance.

I firmly believe that church and state should be separate – not PMs and queens picking bishops, nor that the House of Lords is automatically populated by the leaders of one faith flavour. And that the law of one cannot steer the other – in either direction.

The C of E is usually the go-to for media comment, but it’s not representative of Christianity!

Many views it expresses – such as those recently on sexuality from Australian and English bishops – bring harm, for those in the faith and without. It makes sure that more are without. Both lower and higher ends are bigoted, regarding women and/or gay people.

At ordination, ministers swear allegiance to the Anglican Church, Queen and bishop but in the Bible, Jesus said: “Do not swear….Let your yes be yes and your no be no”.

Ordination is based on the fantastical fallacy of apostolic succession, passing down powers as apprentice/master. At the services where these powers are invested, the presiding bishop lays hands on the candidate and only those previously ordained may also do so and reach forth. The rest of the congregation looks on in excluded bewilderment.

Hierarchy features in the Anglican church’s theology as much as its structure.

Some vicars claim to be ‘sacramental priests’ – that is those whose role is mainly just saying the services, especially communion, but that’s a travesty of ministry: the heart of of what you do is your care and a message.

Ministers are given unbiblical titles of honour, such as reverend – who is revering who?

Only my God and my Dad are called ‘Father’.

 

Bombastic leaders raise congregations with an imperious impatient jerk, push us out at the ‘dismissal’ (where else do you hear that word?) by the might of their hand and expect us to stand to show their authority, but this line between clergy and laity – which I’ve seen marked at coffee time with a top table – is imaginary.

 

Altar rails cut God’s meal off from the people. Do established ‘Churches’ get NT theology!? Jesus tore down the priests-only division at his death!

 

Huge favouritism is shown towards some members and candidates rivalling Jacob to Joseph and some ministers control who can be on committees and rush through PCC meetings to get to football matches and ovens.

 

Some vicars are more interested in showmanship than spiritual substance in sermons, have more ego than integrity, and all are under trained in the heart of ministry – care.

 

Vicars wear academic hoods at occasions that are nothing to do with their qualifications as if fitting in and showing you have a brain are what matters, rather than the act of worship.

 

The C of E is ageist regarding clergy – by 60, you’re expected to do the job for free.

 

You need licences from a bishop to distribute communion or preach or heal and you can’t use the pulpit unless you’re ordained.

 

So many clergy are patronising and distant: they lose sight of how badly, and how quickly adherents are institutionalised.

 

It’s heartbreaking to watch the colour literally drained from those joining the church.

 

Although some root for social justice, Anglicans are often not questioners and stand with other institutions and accept their practices, such as aggressive ‘security’ measures, which Anglicans themselves have allowed – armed guards, bag searches, and CCTV is prevalent and often the first sign you read on entering a church.

Some charities they support actually aren’t very just – they often resocialise people in need (Christians Against Poverty gets people paying taxes and their debts);

homeless people become ‘beggars’ you don’t give to directly (preferably via a charity we support).

 

The parish share is an onerous second tax for Anglicans, extracted by guilt, covering vicars’ salaries, homes and training (building maintenance is extra) but there’s no money for pastoral care whilst wealthy chain-within-chain churches get huge grants.

 

They’re forever fundraising, using outreach events for this purpose, such as passing a donation box round a pub event at point blank range.

 

Ministers made speeches about giving ‘folding stuff’ and that ‘nothing is not enough’ whilst I and others starved and they did nothing.

 

Some Anglicans hold Inclusive Church certificates, but oust their gay minister; and confuse inclusivity with compliant uniformity (such as churches in a benefice having to say the same liturgical words – that’s simply Tudor and Stuart attitudes resurfacing).

 

I can’t say many words of the service books – old or new. “We are miserable vile offenders… unworthy to gather the crumbs from your table…” are some of the worst most heard ones.  It’s not a theology I can uphold, and saying what I mean matters to me, not mumbling offensive words because they’re licensed and old and have a certain turn of phrase.

 

Most churches’ intercessions list sound as personal as calling the register (there’s a worrying correlation between high church services and public school assemblies);

their ‘welcome’ is more concerned with visitors getting out of processions’ way and taking off hats as a mark of respect – for whom? – even as heat visibly left our heads; vergers have told a deaf lady “shut that woman up!”

 

The biggest indictment and catalyst was my and loved ones’ experiences of pastoral care:

the preaching of a love not shown

the irony of safeguarding being about self protection in cahoots with other professions, signposting instead of succour.

 

I can’t and won’t give further detail to protect all those involved, but:

if a minister can’t or won’t support when most needed

at one’s darkest, if not final hour,

then the dog collar is meaningless and the notion of church is a farce

 

I am deeply concerned about some wearers of that collar’s suitability

 

This has led me to reject the Anglican church, which puts

hierarchy before humility

accolades before acclamation of a gospel that’s really good news (not bad news first)

spectacle before substance

privilege before innovation

protocol before pastoral care

terms of honour before terms of endearment

income before outreach

history before healing

formality before freedom

conformity before community.

It values are commercial and worldly;

as one visitor observed, much of the Anglican church is ‘plastic’ – including its wafers.

 

Some might read this nodding – amen, but this isn’t me or my church. (If you’re a minister who thinks of your church as yours, think again). And think again.

All these come from real church experiences.

 

I am a child of God

yet I’ve often been made to feel a lesser one.

 

Following the week of Christian unity, I am bringing a kind of love and light, but love that cuts through darkness as a laser, and that can feel the opposite of unity.

 

I cannot attend Anglican communities with integrity;

I and others feel damaged, used and abandoned

through negligence, through weakness, through deliberate fault – and just not being aware.

 

I felt I couldn’t just slip out, I had to speak out – publicly.

It is time for another reformation.

I will set up own church. It won’t be like this one and I’ll pledge to put right any wrongs.

You can read about it here at Between The Stools.

 

At the last service I attended we were given a candle each to depart with. It was to remind us of God’s love and to be light in the world. In that sense, my candle is inextinguishable; but it is also the time that my candle – for that place of candles – went out.

 

I’m looking at its smoke with relief and satisfaction.

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