Things don’t look good. Fewer than a million people go to CofE services on a Sunday now. Broke and short of priests, it can barely provide pastoral care in every parish ”“ its main reason for claiming to be the national church. Other faiths are upset that so many bishops automatically get seats in the House of Lords, and that will change. The Queen’s successor will not be crowned Defender of the Faith; Charles will swear to defend faiths of all kinds. Up to 1,300 clergy might leave if women are allowed to become bishops; a similar number could walk if the CofE accepts openly gay, non-celibate priests. Attendances will go on falling. That won’t mean the end of Christianity here: there are many other kinds of church, some of which are huge and growing fast. And some have very strong views indeed. That’s one reason for even unbelievers to care. For a long time, our state church was known for prizing moderation, unity, compromise and sensible behaviour. Take that away ”“ either by one group taking over the CofE or it dying off completely ”“ and some fear the empty space will be filled by extremism. The character of England will change (if it hasn’t already). But there is another very big question to ask: who will look after the churches?
The church in England and the world could yet be reborn. Or the future could look like this. It’s 2018, and the next Lambeth Conference is held in the student union bar, attended by a dozen bishops and a cleaner. The CofE is a busted flush: a property empire worth £5.7bn in 2008 has been decimated by recession. Dissident congregations fight over who owns their churches. Is it the Crown? Is it the local parish? The legal answers are horrendously complicated, but neither can afford to pay for the upkeep of 16,200 buildings. Roofs are falling in. The Church of England is too small and too poor to go on caring for these crumbling treasures, as its members have done so patiently and sacrificially for years. You may not care about the collapse of the CofE. You may rejoice in England throwing off its state religion. But in this vision of 2018, the loss of ancient churches that are jewels of our architecture and heritage will feel like a catastrophe. And looking back, the beginning of the end will have been the summer of 2008, when that bunch of bolshy bishops spilled out of the church disco to start up their own, singing: “I am what I am…”