In recent public statements, the Archbishop of Canterbury has spoken about the problem of deference.  In complaining about deference, he is, no doubt, referring to the distinctive way that he and other bishops are treated by clergy and people alike.  People at the top of a tree, here the bishops, are looked up to and there may a situation of complete or partial paralysis as the ordinary person feels overawed by being in their presence.  This experience of deference thus leads to a state of inhibition of communication so that the one with power is unlikely to hear the true opinions of those ‘below’.   It is perhaps not the fault of the ones who have the power which causes this kind of inhibition in the other.   All of us recognise this phenomenon.  We enter the presence of someone important and we have a tendency to feel our own unimportance.  Our opinions also feel small and we may well, in our state of littleness, not give a good account of ourselves or our real opinions.

I have been trying to reflect on why the Church has a problem with deference and how the effect of this non-communication is so damaging to the church at large.  Clearly it is important for people of importance to listen to the widest possible range of people when making decisions which may affect the welfare of the same people.  If  people routinely feel overawed into silence or formulaic responses, then something is lost in the process of communication and decision making.

From an historical point of view, deference can be understood as a by-product of the mediaeval feudal patterns of ordering society.   The king occupied that highest position in the land and he could command the loyalty of the nobles below him.  These held land on his behalf.  In turn other ranks found a place in that society, right down to the landless peasants and slaves.  There was no social mobility to speak of in mediaeval society.  The power of custom and tradition kept most people firmly stuck in the rank into which they had been born.  There was however one anomaly in this society, the Church.  By maintaining a respected role within the whole, the Church has schemes of education and social advancement not known elsewhere.  Through cathedral schools, a bright boy could advance up the hierarchy of rank to occupy a place in court or among the great families where education and literacy was valued. 

The exact relationship between church and state in mediaeval society was a subject of contention.  Without getting into deep historical detail, I can mention the work of an 9^th century French bishop, Himcar of Rheims, who had much to do with the compiling of coronation rites for the early French kings.  He established the principle that a bishop was involved in the crowning of the King.  This quasi-sacramental act gave the bishop/pope an arguably higher place in the hierarchy that everyone acquiesced in.  Since that time bishops have inherited an intangible exalted status in the eyes of many people.  The word bishop can for some evoke centuries of influence and power.

Today the bishops carry what is regarded by many of them as the burden of being exalted within a hierarchical system.  Traces of these hierarchical ways of thinking are found in many parts of our society beyond the church.  One place of significance where we find it alive and well is in the English public-school system.  The boys at these schools could be said to be trained to live and breathe the values of mediaeval hierarchy.  The control and command structure find expression within the prefectorial system.  It has also been fed into the church through establishment influences like the Iwerne camps, about which we have heard so much recently.  Our whole society in the UK has in different ways learnt to live within and accept the values of deferential hierarchical society and way of doing things.  Bishops are right there in the middle of it, both as the result of history and to conform with an establishment that has grown up with it and still ‘enforces’ it.

It is hard to know what to recommend to Justin Welby as the antidote to deference.  One thought that comes out of a recent conversation, is to go back to the 7^th century in England when the Roman (hierarchical) traditions defeated the local Celtic traditions at the Synod of Whitby in 664.  What was defeated was not just a different date for Easter but a whole distinct way of doing church.  There is a lot that we do not know about the churches of the Celtic period.  Many of our current ‘rediscoveries’ may be based on complete misunderstandings.  But the one thing we do glimpse is a church that rooted itself in the life and witness of its monastic communities.  Because these communities, especially in Ireland, were opened ended, learning and monastic spirituality flowed out of them and permeated the whole of society.  Celtic ideas are also perhaps responsible for an intuitive connection between creation and faith.  The greater emphasis on community and the holistic vision of living more in harmony with the created order certainly seem values that Justin Welby is sympathetic with.  The community of St Anselm represents a vision for doing church which is quite different from the hierarchical strands of church life that we find elsewhere in the church. 

With this thought about the values of Celtic Christianity (whether or not they are based on fantasy), I would urge the Archbishop to speak far more about these gentler values from the past.  We would ask him to speak to us about the values that emerge out of community life, especially as they are being rediscovered in his own religious community in Lambeth.  To free the church of deference we need to see him challenge more openly the hierarchical structures that permeate the Church in so many ways.  The failure to listen and speak to survivors is an example of old-fashioned hierarchical values that demand control over the structure at every turn.  The other great perceived value of Celtic Christianity is the constant awareness of creation.  Living more in harmony with the seasons, the forces of nature is an effort that demands humility and patience.  Being still before God is a sentiment that captures the mood of the twenty first century far better than the many words that are used weekly in the pulpits of the church.

I am not sure what the slogan of the Church should be to bring us back from the possibility of collapse and irrelevance in the coming decades.  One thing I am certain of is that it will embrace these Celtic values of humility, stillness and new forms of communal living.  As I said in a previous blog, we expect from leaders a vision for the future.  That vision will not be about the management of decline but about new possibilities, hopes and dreams for the future.  The Christian faith has the capacity to cause ‘young men to dream dreams and old men to see visions’.  We need our leaders to show us the way.