The Church of England (C of E) is in trouble. This is an odd ecclesiastical moment. The pope is dead, the Archbishop of Canterbury has gone. Not since 1691 have both seats been empty. But those seats will be filled. A far more anxious emptiness is in the C of E’s pews. Adult church attendance in England has fallen by over a third in 15 years; just a little over 1% go to services weekly, according to the C of E’s own numbers. A rise in churchgoing among the young is mainly a Catholic phenomenon. The C of E closes 20-odd churches each year.
Critics sense a spiritual vacuum too: in its failure to resolve international squabbles over its stance on gay marriage and in its cover-up of appalling child abuse. On January 6th, the former archbishop Justin Welby, who many felt failed in his handling of that scandal, laid his curving staff on the altar at Lambeth Palace. The process of selecting a replacement has begun.
Whether or not you believe in God, this matters, to bureaucracy and to Britain. Britons might be a Godless lot—in the 2021 census less than half called themselves Christian, down from almost 60% in 2011—but Britain itself is not. The c of e is not merely a church but an established church. England is one of around 20% of countries (from Tuvalu to Denmark) with a state religion. It is institutionally ecclesiastical.
Adult church attendance in England has fallen by over a third in 15 years; just a little over 1% go to services weekly, according to the Church of England’s own numbers. It closes 20 churches every year https://t.co/tj8gl0bjjd
— The Economist (@TheEconomist) May 9, 2025