In 44BC Rome was reeling from the assassination of Julius Caesar. He had re-shaped the politics of Rome and made himself an emperor in all but name, but enemies had conspired and he was murdered on the Ides of March. 

Caesar was popular with the people and fear of reprisals from the mob meant that the aftermath was tense and carefully managed. Mark Antony brokered a deal with the conspirators in the Senate to avoid punishment for them, but Julius Caesar would be honored and his appointments and structures maintained. Within two years of his murder, Caesar was recognised by the Senate as a god.

After a legendary power struggle, Caesar's great-nephew and adopted son Octavian emerged as the sole ruler of Rome in 27BC and adopted the name Augustus, ruling as Emperor. His keen propaganda skills made extensive use of his relationship with Caesar, promoting the cult of Caesar as a way of boosting his own status. Ever since Caesar's elevation to divine status in 42BC, Augustus had styled himself Divi Fillius - Son of the God. He would later claim that he was conceived by his mother Atian when she was asleep in the Temple of Apollo and was visited by the god in the form of a snake, so some considered Augustus the son of a god twice over.

One of the most famous events in the aftermath of Julius Caesar's death took place a few weeks later. A bright star appeared in the sky, visible throughout the day and night. Scientists today speculate that this may have been one of the brightest comets in recorded history. The appearance of this 'star' was immediately interpreted as Caesar's spirit being taken to the divine realm in the process of his deification. It was the most famous comet in antiquity, known throughout the Roman world. The poet Ovid wrote in AD8

Then Jupiter, the Father, spoke..."Take up Caesar's spirit from his murdered corpse, and change it into a star, so that the deified Julius may always look down from his high temple on our Capitol and forum." He had barely finished, when gentle Venus stood in the midst of the Senate, seen by no one, and took up the newly freed spirit of her Caesar from his body, and preventing it from vanishing into the air, carried it towards the glorious stars. As she carried it, she felt it glow and take fire, and loosed it from her breast: it climbed higher than the moon, and drawing behind it a fiery tail, shone as a star.

Matthew wrote his Gospel around a hundred years later. By then, the cult of Caesar was well established alongside the cult of Augustus, who ruled until AD14. The association of Caesar with the star as a sign of his divinity was also well known. Coins from the period regularly feature the star motif and Augustus reigned as the son of a god at the time of Chris's birth.

It is with this backdrop that Matthew tells us that magi from the East, saw a bright star in the sky, signifying the birth of a king and they followed it to find the baby Jesus in Bethlehem. Matthew's account is tailor made to invert the story of Augustus, Divi Filius, to tell the story of Jesus Christ, Son of God.

As we read that story again this year, it strikes Mouse that there remain many reports of stars heralding the gods of our day. Political stars tell us that prosperity and security can be bought at the price of our loyalty to the latest demagogue. Stars seen by 'influencers' tell us that health, happiness and well-being can be found with the purchase of the latest product, with just a small commission payment taken along the way to enrich those helping us find our path. Other stars point to a culture that seeks happiness and fulfillment in the selfish pursuit of our own desires, without the need to put others in our community before ourselves. There are many stars and their prophets seem to be greater in number than we have known for some time.

The tricky thing is not spotting bright stars, but working out which one to follow. The Romans did indeed spot a bright star in the sky, just as the magi did. But their belief that it signaled the divinity of Caesar was in error, while the magi correctly interpreted the star they saw and followed it to Jesus.

One of the keys is to avoid stars that point us to the self gratification, enrichment or status of those who spotted them. Following Jesus is a path of humility and self sacrifice, but Augustus urged others to follow the cult of Caesar for his own benefit, not for anyone else's. By contrast, the magi did not know where the star was leading them and sought no benefit in following it other than the privilege of paying homage to a new king.

As the Church of England struggles with a crisis caused by repeated and appalling failures to act on safe-guarding issues out of a sense of fear for its own position, we must more than ever follow the star that points to Jesus, wherever that leads us. And do so with the expectation of humble and sacrificial service to others.

Our story today can also invert the stories of those who look to take advantage of others for their own gain, just as Augustus did by encouraging worship of his Great Uncle, to boost his own prestige. In our case, if following the star to Jesus means accepting our personal and institutional failures, then it must be done whatever the seeming cost. Then we serve our communities with humility and grace, preaching the good news of a God who came as a baby to show us what a life of love can look like. 

Our church is shrinking and that is desperately worrying, but a church which lets the vulnerable suffer and covers it up through fear that a reputation could be hurt by the truth is no church of Christ and not one worth preserving. Perhaps if we follow the star to Jesus, we should be more confident that whatever hardship we face on the road it will eventually lead us to where we need to be.

The debate on assisted dying has exposed a gaping hole in our collective understanding of Christian ethics, as secular atheists demand religious arguments be labelled as such.

A frequent debate in British politics is the discussion around the extent to which faith leaders should speak up on political matters. The typical pattern is for a Christian leader to criticise something the government of the day has done on the grounds of their Christian ethics, following which they are told to get their beak out of politics by the party who has been scolded, but are applauded as an important voice of morality by the party who agrees with them.

This pattern has become so familiar that it is greeted with eye rolling by those within the Church, who respond with the pat arguments that if you don't think Jesus had anything to say about the poor and needy you can't be very familiar with his work. And Mouse suspects that the view of the general public is that we would generally expect religious leaders to speak up on eithical issues.

But there are some issues which buck this trend. 

In the UK, the abortion debate lacks the intensity that it has in the US, but is still one in which the Christian voice, and particularly that of the Catholic Church, is prominent. However, their views are often labelled as 'religious objections'. The view that life begins at conception is considered a matter of faith, rather than an objective truth, so all that follows from that belief is a subjective morality, relevant only if you hold to that foundational article of faith. 

This has the effect of putting those 'religious views' into a box, relevant only to religious adherents. The response from secular society is then that if you believe abortion to be wrong 'on religious grounds', then we'll respect that, but you shouldn't expect us non-believers to abide by your religious rules. The strategy of Respect and Ignore.

The debate on assisted dying came unexpectedly quickly. Mouse commented before that Church leaders appeared unprepared. The new government had long indicated it would allow a free vote on the issue, but when Kim Leadbeater secured a coveted place at the top of the ballot for private members bills in the House of Commons she pushed that vote much earlier in the Parliamentary timetable than many had expected.

It was widely observed that the debate in the Commons and the wider public debate was conducted with respect and dignity all round. It was broadly accepted that both proponents and opponents of the measure were both attempting to work through a very difficult issue, minimise suffering, balance conflicting rights and protect the vulnerable.

But there was a rumble in the debate which was not happy.

The Humanists UK accused Christian lobbyists of 'hiding' their true motivations for opposing the Bill. Lewis Goodall wrote in the i Newspaper with a similar attack on Christian MPs for being 'dishonest' about their real reasons for opposing the Bill, suggesting that they should declare their Christian faith. He notes that 'religious MPs’ opposition is rarely articulated in overtly theological terms' and that opposing assisted dying 'largely or principally on the basis of one’s own faith alone, in a modern cosmopolitan democracy such as our own, seems far from satisfactory'. The respect and ignore strategy.

There was a fascinating exchange on Radio 4's Sunday programme between Chine McDonald, Director of the Theos think-tank, and broadcaster Mark Mardell. Mardell makes a similar argument again, saying that opposing assisted dying 'for religious reasons' would amount to 'stuffing your beliefs down my throat' and that those holding such beliefs should be honest that the real reason for the opposition is not concern for coercion or a desire for better palliative care but the belief that life comes from God and only He can take it away.

It seems to Mouse that there has been a failure here to unpack what is meant by 'religious beliefs' and specifically a misunderstanding of the difference between ethics and theology.

Theology is principally concerned with understanding the nature of God, while ethics is principally concerned with how best to live in the world. Christian ethics naturally considers that question from the perspective of the Christian faith.

Even in the Church we have fallen foul of missing the distinction, sometimes intentionally. In our debates about sexuality we talk about ethical issues as if they are theological issues. We use language like 'teaching of the Church' to obscure the fact that the Church's ethical teaching is not the same type of doctrine as its theological teaching. Sometimes, this is intentional as questions of Christian ethics imply issues where different perspectives are possible and compromise is likely required. There are questions where human reason and experience come into play, rather than simply questions of Biblical interpretation. By contrast, if you can 'win' the argument with a killer exegesis on clear Biblical grounds, then compromise and perspective is out of the question. The question of how can a Christian best live in the world when it comes to sex is translated into a theological question of what the Bible says we can and cannot do with regards to sex.

Mouse suspects some of this comes from the inheritance of the protestant tradition where the questions being asked by the reformers were theological ones rather than ethical ones, primarily concerned with issues like the nature of salvation, whereas the Catholic tradition has had a greater emphasis on ethics. The tradition which trumpets sola sciptura is one which sets a firm foundation for its theology, but runs into difficulty with its ethics.

So it is no wonder that those outside the Church also miss the distinction.

When critics question the 'real' motives behind ethical objections to assisted dying, they are imagining a theological argument, along the lines articulated by Mark Mardell. A belief which relies on a matter of faith for it to hold water. If you don't believe that God is the giver of life, then the house of cards on which that argument is built falls apart. It also implies that other questions raised, such as concern for vulnerable people will be coerced or guilt-tripped into prematurely ending their lives for the convenience of uncaring relatives are seen as a smoke-screen behind which the real theological objection is hidden.

In truth, the view is an ethical one. The lessons we learn from the Christian tradition teach us how best to live with each other in the world. The message that we learn is that the world is a better place when we put in place legal measures to make sure that nobody can be coerced into ending their life and that mutuality and care for others in our community is better for us all than a society where everyone has to look after themselves. There is a theological foundation under that, but the view is also informed by reason, experience, an understanding of human nature and the human condition.

For this reason, there is a growing body of opinion who have argued that Christian ethics are of critical importance outside the Christian faith. Historian Tom Holland has persuasively argued that the secular ethics which the Church's strongest critics trumpet are, in fact, rooted in the Christian tradition from which they sprung. The secular humanism of the Humanists UK, which values personal freedom and respect for the individual are a product of the protestant reformation which insisted that each individual must make their own personal commitment to their faith. To this extent, the secular and Christian ethics at play in the debate on assisted dying are both expressions of the same philosophical tradition and it is quite wrong for one of those to suggest the other is illegitimate.

From a different perspective, the growth of 'cultural Christianity' has shown increasing numbers of people who embrace Christian ethics, recognising the benefits to society of organising itself along a strong ethical framework, while not necessarily accepting the theological beliefs from which it was derived. While some on the progressive side of the Church fear that these arguments flirt with Christian nationalism, there is a strong link with Tom Holland's perspective that the Western ethical and philosophical perspective is inherently bound with Christian ethics, but takes it further to suggest that this should not just be understood as the backdrop to our public debates, but actively championed as the organising principle for our polity.

When Mouse heard the criticisms from those arguing that religious lobbyists and MPs were 'hiding' their true reasons for opposing assisted dying, it struck Mouse that the reaction from the Church was rather confused. We weren't sure how to react to that. We certainly didn't want to deny that our faith informed out position and there was no suggestion that a Christian perspective should not be heard, but we were unable to pick apart the argument to articulate clearly that while there is a Christian foundation to our ethics, the principles being argued for stand on their own two feet whether you accept the Christian heritage from which they developed or not. The gut reaction was to assume that the old argument was being made that Christians should stick to singing hymns on Sundays and stay out of politics was being made, so some kicked back that Christians had and important point to make. While true, that is slightly off-target. The point we need to make is that Christian ethics has something important to say about how we live in community today regardless of whether you accept the theological tradition behind it. In other words, engage with the argument we're making, not the one you think we should be making.

If we're not able to re-claim this territory, then there is a real danger that anyone who holds to a religious faith will have everything they say labelled as a religious argument, to be pushed out of the public sphere and relegated into a matter only relevant to those who share those religious views. This would be a great shame not only for those within the Church who have so much to offer in ethical discussions, but also for everyone else who would unknowingly begin to divorce the ethical foundations of our society from their foundations.

To assist all of you looking for a Christmas reading list or some gift ideas, The Church Mouse has compiled a handy list of books published (roughly) in the last year. Each one has come with glowing reviews and a personal recommendation via Bluesky or Twitter.

Mouse has linked to a certain online book retailer so you can easily find them, but other booksellers are available and Mouse encourages you to support your local bookshop if you can.

Women of The Nativity by Paula Gooder

Mouse is a big Paula Gooder fan. This book is the latest of her genre-defying imagined histories, where she tells the nativity story through the eyes of nine women. Mary, Elizabeth and others who are recorded in history have their perspective expanded and put into focus using Paula's deep biblical expertise.

Do Not Be Afraid by Rachel Mann

Subtitled 'The Joy of Waiting in a Time of Fear' Rachel writes The Archbishop of York's Advent Book 2024 on the most Advent theme - waiting. The blurb tells us that this book contains 'luminous meditations' structured to support personal reflection and prayer over the four weeks of advent.

The Challenge of Acts by Tom Wright

Tom Wright's eminence in New Testament scholarship needs no qualification. In an accessible book, Tom takes on the book of Acts in a holistic way, setting it in its historical context in both the Greco-Roman world and its Jewish context, as well as its context within the wider New Testament narrative.

Lower Than The Angels by Diarmaid MacCulloch

The venerable church historian addresses the topic of sex and the church. Given his starting point on the subject, many have made their mind up before parting the pages on this book, but Mouse will reserve judgement until he has read it. Given Professor MacCulloch's historical expertise it deserves serious reading.

I, Julian by Claire Gilbert

A fictionalised autobiography of Julian of Norwich, which sounds absolutely brilliant. Interest in Julian has ramped up in recent years, with a compelling personal story and a message that resonates to this day. This version of her story has received rave reviews.

Fully Alive by Elizabeth Oldfiend

Elizabeth Oldfield has become an important voice as a Christian public intellectual in recent years, leading the Theos think tank and hosting a fab podcast, Sacred. She has stood down from Theos to focus on other projects and this book distils many of the topics that come through her conversations on Sacred on how to live a rich and fulfilled life in our current turbulent times.

Tis Mercy All by Natalie Williams

Mouse has loved Natalie's previous books. Natalie has a practical and authentic voice, drawing on her own lived experience of porverty and he time as CEO of Jubliee+ charity. In this book she sets out how to live a live as a 'mercy-bringer' in the world. Sounds good to Mouse. 

Waking The Women by Jayne Manfredi

Jayne is a social media legend and in this book she talks about one of the last taboos in church, 'the dreaded m-word: menopause'. The book blurb says that she writes with 'refreshing frankness' (not a surprise, Jayne!) and this book has had glowing reviews, described as moving, hilarious, profoundly spiritual and much more.

Jesus and Justice by Red Letter Christians UK

25 authors share stories and insights on seeking Jesus and justice. Some contributors are well-known and others' stories have not been widely told. Mouse expects an encouraging and inspirational read.

The Lord of Psalm 23 by David Gibson

Mouse loves to find new perspectives on familiar Bible passages. Psalm 23 is one of the most well known and well loved passages in all scripture. This book draws out theological insights and reflection on God's provision for us in our lives.

Bleeding for Jesus by Andrew Graystone

Mouse is expecting a difficult read in this one, but it is something we must face, however uncomfortable it may be. This account of John Smyth's abuse draws on many victim's accounts and Andrew Graystone's extensive research. Andrew has been a champion for Smyth's victims for years and after all we have learned from the shocking Makin report, we must listen them through Andrew's account.

When Rowan Williams announced he would be retiring as Archbishop of Canterbury in 2012, speculation was rife as to who would succeed him. Betting markets were active, with the bishops of London (Richard Chartres) and York (John Sentamu) both hotly tipped. But insiders noted that they were both old enough to hit retirement age before the next Lambeth Conference and canny observers spotted that the Bishop of Durham appeared to have all the qualities needed. The only catch was that he had very little episcopal experience, having been a bishop for less than a year.

In fact, Justin Welby had been noticed by insiders for some time. Before Williams announced his retirement, one bishop went as far making a wager with The Church Mouse that Welby would be Williams' eventual successor, with a Mars Bar set as the stake. Mouse paid up in full in due course.

There was a lot in Welby's background that marked him out. An impressive individual whose managerial experience in the oil industry was seen as a benefit to a church declining in numbers and in need of institutional reform to shore up its finances and fill up the pews. Bishop Welby had reformed the financial structures in Durham on his arrival there, transforming its precarious funding position.

Dr Welby, as he was then, had also worked in reconciliation and peacemaking. He displayed impressive courage and commitment and was kidnapped by armed groups on several occasions while negotiating with Al Qaeda and rebel groups in Nigeria. Not only was this a credit to his character, it also gave him global relevance in a world where Islamist terror groups were on the rise.

He fit the bill as an evangelical, following the pattern of alternating anglo-catholic and evangelical Archbishops of Canterbury and seemed to tick all the boxes required.

However, he was surprised to be considered a leading candidate. When invited for an interview, Mouse understands, he felt his chances were so low he simply turned up and spoke his mind in answer to the questions, in contrast to other candidates who presented well-prepared and politically astute scripted answers.

Despite his seemingly privileged upbringing - Eton and Cambridge then a career in the oil industry - his childhood was not a happy one. His parents were both alcoholics who divorced when he was three. In 2016 he discovered that his biological father was not Gavin Welby as he had always believed, but was Sir Anthony Montague Browne, with whom his mother had had a brief fling shortly before her marriage. Justin provided a DNA sample to the journalist who was researching the story for a book and handled the news admirably in public saying 'my foundational identity is to be found in Jesus Christ'. 

“My own experience is typical of many people. To find that one’s father is other than imagined is not unusual. To be the child of families with great difficulties in relationships, with substance abuse or other matters, is far too normal. And he said that he found who he was in his religious faith, “not in genetics”.

He has frequently been open about his personal experiences, speaking on several occasions of his own experience of losing a child. The Welbys tragically lost a daughter at just seven months old in a car crash in France, which he described as 'a constant reminder of the uncertainty of life’. He used his experience to offer support and advice to other grieving parents.

He has also been open about his mental health, speaking in 2023 about his use of anti-depressants and the support that his family and faith have been. Typical of Justin Welby, he didn't just let the news get out, however. He spoke about it on Radio 4's Thought For Today and hosted a mental health conference at Lambeth Palace. 

Welby's family have been by his side throughout his time in Lambeth Palace. His wife Caroline is an ever-present support and has formed a unique ministry of her own, establishing Women On The Frontline, a ministry for women across the Anglican Communion. This has led to her adopted title 'Mama Canterbury' in many nations.

Humility has been a hallmark of his leadership. He has an interview and speaking style which is open, honest and always looking for how God at work. He has frequently disarmed interviewers who are used to combative verbal duels with politicians with self deprecating humour, by simply answering the question put to him and by admitting his own, or his church's, mistakes and embarrassments.

Mouse was told that when the removal lorry had finished unloading its contents at Lambeth Palace, Welby walked into his new study and his heart sank as he looked at the extensive shelving that formerly contained Rowan Williams's personal library and was now barely half-full with Welby's. But the church was looking for a leader, not an academic theologian, and that is what we got.

On his appointment as Archbishop in 2013, Justin had two major issues on his to-do list. First was the issue of admitting women to the episcopate. In a sad end to Rowan Williams' time in office, legislation to allow women to become bishops was narrowly defeated at General Synod and the church was reeling from this outcome. It was an embarrassment to the wider public and the divisions in the church had been deepened by the process. The other issue was the continued decline in church attendance. Rowan Williams offered no major coherent response to decades of decline and many were demanding the church authorities 'do something.

On the first issue the new Archbishop made an instant impact. He put in place a series of structured listening and engagement sessions between leaders on both sides of the debate. These were not intended to find solutions - simply to meet and understand each other. After a year, sufficient goodwill had been built up that allowed new legislation to be presented which, on the face of it, offered far less to conservatives in firm concessions than the legislation that had been defeated two years before. In place of legal provisions for conservatives to continue under the oversight of male bishops came commitments from all sides to abide by a set of guiding principles which promised that everyone would be valued in the church and all would commit to the ongoing 'flourishing' of the other. It has become mandatory for candidates for ordination to assent to these principles.

That commitment has been a source of controversy and frustration for some, but it did the trick and the new legislation sailed through in 2014.

However, if there was a hope that this would usher in a new period of peace and harmony among the church's warring factions, that hope was to be short-lived. Conservatives had been organising for some time under the banner of GAFCON, a global organisation formed in 2008 in light of the US and Canadian churches' decision to embrace full inclusion for LGBT Christians and the election of Gene Robinson as the first openly gay bishop in 2003.

The GAFCON movement took an agnostic position on the ordination of women and centred their view of orthodoxy around the issue of same-sex relationships, adding it to the historic creeds in the form of the Jerusalem Declaration. As the Church of England resolved the issue of female ordination, fissures grew wider around sexuality.

In his first year in office Justin Welby addressed the GAFCON conference. There was hope among some GAFCON leaders that Welby was at heart 'one of us'. He spoke of the need for new structures that recognised the UK's complex colonial history with many Anglican provinces and the shift in the centre of gravity in the Anglican Communion towards the global majority world. He also spoke of his own recent opposition to legislation on same-sex marriage in the House of Lords. If that was intended as an appeasement strategy, however, it was doomed to fail. In the years ahead Welby would be unable to comply with GAFCON demands, including that 'Godly discipline' be exercised on provinces within the Anglican Communion which liberalised too much on sexuality. GAFCON leaders would go on to extend their boycott of gatherings of Anglican Primates. Relations soured and the stream of angry open letters from GAFCON denouncing the Church of England and Justin Welby personally would follow. 

The issue seriously marred Welby's tenure, as years of inconclusive theological reviews, facilitated conversations and synodical debates only led to increasing divisions. Conservatives eventually aligned under a new Alliance, declaring quasi-independence under a new 'de facto province' outside the formal structures of the church. Despite the increasing division very little actual change has actually been proposed, with progressives only able to go as far as blessing same sex relationships but not conduct same-sex weddings in churches. The position of clergy wishing to marry same-sex partners is yet to be decided and the formal position of the church is that its doctrine of marriage and sex are unchanged.

Welby's own view on sexuality has changed, however. Shortly after he was consecrated Mouse met with Welby at a reception and he was clear that he did not believe same-sex relationships were in line with scripture and was sceptical that he could endorse them even if they were, on the basis of the persecution that Christians in Africa would face if they were in communion with a church which held this stance. He repeated similar comments in public later. Fast forward ten years and he has finally found the words to say that he did not think that gay relationships are sinful, but that sex should be within committed relationships, whether gay or straight. The interview caused howls of rage from conservatives and forced a clarification from Lambeth Palace, but to some extent the cat was let out of the bag.

Alongside handling the new legislation on women bishops, one of Justin's early priorities was to establish the Community of St Anselm, a religious community for young people based at Lambeth Palace. In itself it is a modest programme, offering a group of young people a year living in a quasi-monastic community centered around prayer and service. But it is intended to be a symbol of the kind of church Justin Welby hopes we will be and the role that Lambeth Palace can play. Members of the community can be found at major events for the Anglican Communion as well as at Lambeth Palace with the intention 'that Lambeth Palace be not so much a historic place of power and authority, but a place from which blessing and service reach to the ends of the earth". Those who have taken part have spoken of the transformational impact it has had on their lives.

Justin Welby took on a number of causes personally, on issues of justice. Following the financial crash, the UK saw the rapid growth of payday lenders, loaning money to the desperate and cash-strapped at eye-watering rates, operating outside the traditional financial regulatory system. Welby declared a 'war on Wonga' (the most prominent payday lender) in response.

But it wasn't just words. Welby spurred the Church into creating its own Credit Union to demonstrate the ethical alternative to payday lending. He served on the Parliamentary Commission on Banking Standards to be an active participant in public policy, not just a voice on the outside. Wonga went bust in 2018 and a raft of new financial regulations were introduced, including an interest rate cap. Looking back, many observers declared Justin Welby's crusade a success.

Archbishop has been also consistently spoken up for refugees. In 2016 he housed a family of Syrian refugees at Lambeth Palace, helping to publicise a government scheme which allowed families to host refugee families in their homes. More recently he has rebuked the previous Conservative government for their hostile rhetoric about refugees arriving on small boats from France and opposing their policy of removing refugees to Rwanda. While some Conservative politicians and commentators took the view that Welby should stay out of politics, most within the church and in the wider public took the view that it is right for religious leaders to speak out on moral issues.

On the issue of church decline, Justin Welby had a plan. It began with a process of reviewing 'what works' in growing churches, culminating in the report From Anecdote to Evidence. From there the Archbishop convinced the Church Commissioners to unlock tens of millions of pounds in funding to support new church plants and growth initiatives under a new Vision and Strategy. The new strategy was essentially to focus investment in churches which had the desire and capability to grow. That meant offering up money to churches and dioceses who could bid for cash if they offered the promise of some more bums on seats.

The jury is out on this strategy. On one level, the decline in numbers has not slowed, so we are yet to see meaningful benefit. When Welby was consecrated Archbishop the average weekly attendance in the Church of England in its annual October survey had fallen just under one million worshippers. In the last published statistics in 2022 the church had lost a third of its congregation, falling to just 654,000. All measures of engagement, such as marriages and funerals conducted are in continued decline.

Of course, some would argue that we don't know how bad the decline would have been without this investment and that it may need more time to see the effects flow through. But there is precious little evidence of meaningful growth so far. Where growth has been seen, studies seem to show that even churches which have seen impressive growth are taking a large portion of their new recruits from other churches in the area or from those who had stopped attending church for a while and that the number of genuinely new Christians being formed is very low. This is extremely problematic, as it means our evangelistic strategies do not really involve converting anyone but just convincing people who already consider themselves Christians to come to church. In a country where the number of people who consider themselves to be Christian is declining rapidly, this strategy is cannot be enough.

Others have criticised the strategy on theological grounds. It has had the effect of pushing resources into largely evangelical churches and in new initiatives rather than into the heart of parish ministry which is increasingly cash-strapped. Rural parishes typically now share a single priest across a number of parishes and there is little in the growth strategy to give them hope of being considered a 'good investment'. Anglo-Catholic ecclesiology roots its ministry in the parish and it is often not well received when a nearby evangelical church sets up within the parish boundaries under the guise of a 'new thing'. It also leads to the creation of less diverse church communities, rather than the parish-focused local community gathering of the church family. In response, a campaign called Save The Parish has been launched to attempt to re-focus the church leadership (and the cash it is dishing out in investment funding) on traditional parish ministry.

One prominent voice who has spoken out against the strategy has been the Bishop of Chelmsford, who spoke openly of her scepticism. This is particularly significant since she is hotly tipped as the favourite to succeed Welby in Canterbury.

Welby's tenure has been an eventful one in the wider world. The COVID pandemic was a traumatic event for communities around the world. For the church there was debate about an appropriate response. Church leaders instinctively kicked in with practical support for their communities, and the Archbishop did the same. Typical of his humble approach to the role, he secretly volunteered to chaplain at St Thomas's hospital, a stone's throw from Lambeth Palace. However, the advice to churches to shut their doors to try to reduce the spread of the virus was controversial. The impact of the pandemic on the church was significant, with many parishioners never to return. Congregations are still recovering in numerical terms.

He has also had a number of prominent roles, most memorably conducting the first coronation since 1953, after having conducted the funeral of the Queen. Prince Harry and Megan's wedding was another moment which put the Archbishop in the spotlight, although he was somewhat overshadowed by the sermon by a barnstorming sermon from Bishop Michael Curry which made headlines around the world.

No discussion of Welby's legacy could fail to mention the issue that brought about his resignation, however. The succession of abuse scandals has been deeply distressing. Early in Welby's tenure Bishop Peter Ball was jailed for sexual offences against 18 young men. The church was heavily criticised for its handling of the case as it emerged that he had continued to officiate in churches after having resigned in 1992 following a police caution for gross indecency with a 19 year-old man. Further high-profile cases including that of Mike Pilavachi and Jonathan Fletcher have all been subject to reviews which found that abusive behaviours were known about by the leaderships around them, but safeguarding had failed.

The resources of the central church institutions have struggled to keep up with their workloads as significant numbers of historic cases have emerged, despite an increase from just a single employee when Welby was appointed Archbishop to a team of 55 today. A review in 2022 found 383 cases which requred investigation or review. A similar review in 2010 found just 13 cases. Following each new revelation, new failures are exposed and more independent reviews are commissioned. But action has been slow.

It was the case of John Smyth which eventually led to the first ever resignation of an Archbishop. Keith Makin's review into the church's handling of Smyth's abuse was long delayed and victims of Smyth's abuse had been deeply frustrated by the way the church had engaged with them, including broken promises by Justin Welby personally to meet with them - a promise which took three years to be fulfilled in the form of a Zoom call.

When the review was finally published, it revealed not only the shocking and harrowing extent of Smyth's abuse, but also the fact that scores of people within the Church of England new about it in detail but did not report it to the police. When the case finally reached the desk of the central church authorities in 2013, Justin Welby was a brand new Archbishop. He was told that it had been reported to the police and he need do nothing more, but Makin concluded that Welby did have a responsibility to do more than simply take that advice and move on. He could and should have followed it up to make sure appropriate actions were being taken. In the event, it turned out that the police had been spoken to, but had not actually opened an investigation until the case was reported on Channel 4 in 2017.

The case was all the more eye-catching as a young Justin Welby was himself an attendee at the Iwerne Camps where Smyth groomed his victims and had met John Smyth and was close to many of those named in the cover-up.

While there were much harsher criticisms for those who actively covered up Smyth's abuse, Welby came under fire from Smyth's victims and their advocates and a coalition of those with historic grievances against the archbishop, including conservatives appalled at his change of view on same-sex relationships. It was impossible not to get a whiff of opportunism from some conservative voices who called for Welby's head following the Makin report, but their criticisms resonated with a wider call that he should take ultimate responsibility for the failures of the institution he led.

So what kind of Church of England does Welby leave behind him?

It is without doubt a humbler one in many ways - some good and some not so good. It is quite a bit smaller than the one he took over and it is an even more divided one. It would be some comfort to think that he has laid the foundations for future growth with the hard work of reform and renewal done. But sadly there are precious few green shoots to indicate that the seeds of growth planted have taken root, despite the many millions of Church Commissioner cash invested.

Welby's personal style has made the Church a more prominent voice on the national stage. He has grown in his public profile steadily and despite reports to the contrary has grown in popularity, according to YouGov. By contrast, when asked whether people have a favourable or unfavourable view of the Church of England the results are a depressing -7%.

In the short term, it remains a church struggling to deal with the Makin report, with a review into 30 church officials and clerics who were criticised in the report. Many consciences must be examined and more work is needed to quickly establish an independent safeguarding body and a funded redress scheme for victims. The track record of Archbishops' Council should also come under scrutiny as the body responsible for safeguarding in the Church which has dragged its feet on both these.

The issue of the Church's position on same-sex relationships is also unresolved, with little hope of consensus any time soon. The hope will be that the current proposals to allow blessings settle down and somehow opponents reach a reluctant acceptance of the new reality. But that won't be sufficient for proponents of further change and opponents have not shown a willingness to compromise.

So Welby leaves a Church on its knees. Humbly praying that the Lord has something new in store for the Church of England in the years ahead, but struggling with the challenges before it. 

Whether this reads as a negative critique of Justin Welby's time in Lambeth Palace or not depends on whether you believe there were alternative paths that could have a greater chance of success. For Mouse's part, my judgement is that he probably did as well as he could. He has chalked up some notable successes on women bishops and on the culture of the church, and demonstrated personal integrity on a range of issues and occasions. Could an alternative plan have halted decline? Very unlikely. The downwards trend line stretches all the way back to the late 1920s and is driven by demographic and social change, not the actions of senior clerics or positions on recent issues. The hope that a deus ex machina solution is available in the forms of funding from the Church Commissions seems increasingly illusory, so perhaps a new plan is needed, either as replacement of enhancement.

But it is the actions of the extreme wings of the church which have left the deepest scars on the last decade in the Church of England under Justin Welby. The challenge for the next Archbishop is whether they will be able to tame these extremes and bring a sense of unity behind the threat of existential decline.

Last week saw the long overdue publication of the Makin Review - the Church of England's long running enquiry into its handling of allegations of abuse perpetrated by John Smyth within and around the Church of England. It is a report that shames many who failed to adequately respond to and support the Smyth's victims for over 40 years. 

The report itself is comprehensive, detailing the nature of the abuse of up to 130 boys, precisely who knew what and when and what they did in response. Copies of correspondence between those 'in the know' from the early 1980s onwards are provided along with lengthy timelines and testimonies. The report itself is 250 pages long with hundreds more pages in appendices of additional details.

It is a very difficult read, with graphic and distressing details set out of the abuse that Smyth handed out. Long-term grooming of young boys of school age, sometimes over a period of many years, put Smyth in a position of total control over them. From this place he physically abused them with dreadful beatings in his soundproofed garden shed, dishing out hundreds of vicious lashes with a bamboo cane, undertaken with a veneer of spirituality which has left scars that will never truly heal. 

There was an obvious element of sexual gratification involved, with much of the grooming centred on discussion of sexual sins and thoughts, including detailed conversations about masturbation, then the beating took place naked or semi-naked. Smyth would sometimes then caress and kiss necks and shoulders of the boys afterwards as they bled in his garden shed.

This is not the first report into Smyth's activities. As well as at Iwerne Camps, much of the grooming took place at Winchester College, one of the UK's most elite public boarding schools. The school published its report into Smyth's abuse in 2022. That too was a sickening read, setting out not only how Smyth was allowed to gain unfettered access to the school via its Christian Fellowship, but how he gained the boys' trust and groomed them into his abusive behaviours.

Most disturbingly, it revealed that these behaviours became known to Winchester College in the early 1980s, but were not reported to the police. In fact, the College felt no obligation to tell the parents of children who were exposed to Smyth that reports of this behaviour had been received.

When read together, these two documents reveal a devastating dereliction of safeguarding duties by a large number of people and organisations. Most central to the story was the Iwirne Trust, who's leadership were given a very clear picture of Smyth's abuse as early as 1982 in the form of a detailed report by Mark Ruston, who was asked to interview victims and provide details. Ruston's view, expressed clearly in his report, was that Smyth's abuse constituted criminal activity. 

A small group centred around David Fletcher and the leaders of the Iwerne Trust had extensive discussions with Smyth, Winchester College and others about the abuse and how to deal with it. None felt the need to tell parents of the victims, offer any practical support to victims, seek out other potential victims or inform the police of what they knew to be criminal activities. All discussions were held on condition of strict confidentiality.

Copies of correspondence by those 'in the know' are reproduced in the Makin report. They paint a shocking picture of a group primarily concerned with covering their own backs should the abuse become more widely known and protecting the reputation and ongoing work of Iwerne. In one awful symptomatic example, Alan Martin, Director of Scripture Union at the time, wrote to Rev John Eddison, one of the Iwerne leaders:

What does concern me slightly in your letter is the reference to parents and others who have apparently voiced suspicions to you in the past, and who were reassured by you that JS [John Smyth] was a person of complete integrity. I am sure that this was said in complete good faith, and it is of course easy to be wise after the event; but I do just wonder if some of the queries should have been followed up, as of course any hint of the type of problems we are talking about in the Iwerne context could be fairly lethal. (Makin report p.102)

One assumes that Martin thought the allegations could be lethal to Iwerne rather the the victims, some of whom we know to have attempted suicide. The neglect of consideration for victims is almost beyond belief. 

In other correspondence, Eddison discussed a meeting with several Iwerne leaders where they consider who they should tell about the abuse to 'completely cover ourselves against any charge of secretiveness' if it should become more widely known. This would mean, "someone will be able to say 'I was told all about it, because [Iwerne leaders]  felt someone in authority should know, but I was asked not to say anything for the sake of the young men concerned.' (Makin report p.109).

The pattern is consistent - cover our own backs and try to keep the whole thing quiet.

The Makin report names numerous senior Evangelical leaders outside the core Iwerne leadership who knew, such as David McInnes, formerly of St Aldate's Oxford, Hugh Palmer, formerly of All Souls Langham Place, and Jonathan Fletcher, formerly of Emmanual Wimbledon. Those named in the report form a Who's Who of conservative evangelicalism of the period, many of whom were hugely influential for decades. Many more were informed of Smyth's abuse to varying degrees of formality and detail. None made a referral to the police. None acted to prevent future abuse from happening, something which tragically came to pass after Smyth moved to Zimbabwe in 1984 then later South Africa following his removal from positions at Iwerne and Winchester College.

The recent headlines have focused on the period from 2013 to 2017 in particular since this was the time when allegations about Smyth's abuse became known to the Church of England. Makin concludes that the response was incompetent (many believed that a referral to the police had taken place when it had not) and inadequate in failing to follow up on referrals to the Diocese in South Africa where Smyth remained active. Most painfully, the response and support offered to victims was woeful.

The Archbishop of Canterbury himself was criticised. While he was told that no more needed to be done as a referral to the police had taken place and the authorities in South Africa alerted, the Archbishop did not follow these up or assure himself that this was the case. While clear that Justin Welby did not fail in a legal or procedural obligation, the report is equally clear that he had a moral obligation. In response, the Archbishop has said in an interview that he considered resigning, but on the advice of colleagues has decided not to. When Newman asked if his failures were incompetence rather than cover up, Welby answered "yes".

Things began to change in 2017 when the allegations were featured on Channel 4 News, although the response to victims continued to be disjointed, confusing and inadequate. Nevertheless, a police investigation was finally opened, although Smyth's death in 2018 meant he evaded justice.

Others will be better placed than Mouse to go through the details of the Makin Report, alongside Winchester College's report, to work out what needs to change. Makin makes a number of recommendations and they must be taken very seriously. 

However, it is important to understand what this report is, and what it is not. It is a detailed account of John Smyth's abuse and how the Church of England responded to it. It is not an overview of the Church of England's safeguarding standards and processes, its culture or an investigation into the lessons learned from other recent safeguarding cases.

This explains some major omissions from the report. Most obvious is a fact that lies only just below the surface - that Smyth's abuse took place in a startlingly similar manner to the abuse perpetrated by another senior evangelical leader within Smyth's close circle - Jonathan Fletcher. Fletcher is now awaiting trial for sexual assault, so the full details of his abuse are not yet known. However, the safeguarding charity Thirtyone:Eight conducted a review on behalf of Emmanuel Wimbledon which set out some accounts from Fletcher's victims.

Fletcher too developed coercive and abusive relationships with young men and undertook naked massages and smacking, albeit seemingly less brutally than Smyth. The Thirtyone:Eight report concludes that Fletcher's abuse was known about by leaders at Emmanuel Church, Wimbledon, before they became more widely known in 2017 but that "little or no action was taken to address this by role holders and leaders at ECW at the time."

It is almost beyond comprehension that two such abuse cases have emerged from within such a small circle and that both cases were known by leaders around them. In fact, Makin describes Smyth's abuse as 'a very open secret indeed'. It is also incredible to Mouse that Makin does not explicitly mention the fact that the central figure in the mismanagement and cover-up of Smyth's abuse, David Fletcher, was Jonathan's brother. Jonathan Fletcher is mentioned on numerous occasions in the Makin report, including accounts that he was fully aware of the nature of Smyth's abuse and involved in discussions on how to handle the situation with his brother and other Iwerne leaders. However, there is no mention that he himself was an abuser.

There is just one hint at the fact in Makin's report:

At this time and with breathtaking hypocrisy, John Smyth warned a victim of another individual, Jonathan Fletcher. He said to him that it was wrong for the Iwerne camp people to allow Fletcher to attend camps, whilst he was barred from attending. (Makin report: 12.1.94)

We are left to join the dots ourselves as to the nature of this irony.

When it comes to Justin Welby's own position, there are growing calls for his resignation, including from one diocesan bishop who felt compelled to speak out following the repercussions of another high profile safeguarding failure. He has said that he has considered his position and consulted colleagues, but will not resign. However, he may well bow to pressure in the coming days as that pressure mounts. 

The first and principle issue is the extent to which Justin Welby failed in his own responsibilities with regard to the Smyth case. In this narrow view Makin lays some blows on Welby but there is no smoking gun. His failure did not extend to a breach of law or church policies or procedures. There was no evidence of any specific knowledge by Welby prior to 2013 of the allegations and following that, he was told that Ely Diocese was managing the case, that referral to the police had taken place and that the authorities in South Africa had been informed. The police must take some criticism from this report, as it emerges that five separate forces were consulted but none opened an active investigation until the Channel 4 news report in 2017.

Makin's report taken as a whole sets out a comprehensive failure of safeguarding policies, governance and processes, so there is a question whether the Archbishop should take ultimate accountability for that. This failure has been self-evidence for some time, most obviously with the ongoing voice of victims repeatedly saying that they are being re-traumatised by the Church and by the failure to establish an independent safeguarding body, as recommended by Alexis Jay in her report into how to strengthen safeguarding in the Church of England, published in February. 

Questions have also been asked how credible it is that Welby genuinely knew nothing before 2013, given how closely he was involved with that wing of the church and the fact that it increasingly became an 'open secret'. He attended Iwirne camps and knew Smyth, yet appears not to have heard the gossip from other camp members. He shared a flat with Mark Ruston who compiled a detailed report in 1982 into Smyth's abuse but they appear not to have discussed it. Discussions were held and correspondence shared with a large number of conservative evangelical leaders at a number of major churches and parachurch organisations, yet Justin Welby doesn't seem to have been included or have heard the reports second hand. Still, Makin has not raised this or accused Welby of knowing more than he has let on, so Mouse is not convinced this is grounds for resignation.

It strikes Mouse that there is also another body with responsibility for safeguarding which should not escape scrutiny. The remit of the Makin report does not extend as far, but the body ultimately responsible for safeguarding in the Church of England is Archbishops' Council. That is the body responsible for establishing the right governance, appointing individuals to roles and resourcing safeguarding adequately at a national level. It is Archbishops' Council which established an Independent Safeguarding Board in 2021 to hold the Church to account, then disbanded it and sacked its board members in 2023, with a lessons learned review undertaken into the collapse of that body. No replacement has yet been established. Makin does not address the role of Archbishops' Council, as it is not involved with individual cases, but if the lesson we are seeking to learn is how to change the culture, structures, governance and policies, then Archbishops' Council comes squarely into focus.

We remain in the status of having lessons learned reports and independent reviews piling on top of each other while we mismanage support for victims and the establishment of independent oversight.

For what it is worth, Mouse is not convinced that the defenestration of the Archbishop is the answer, but Justin may well take another view if he decides that he has not been able to drive through the changes necessary and someone else should have a go.

Update:

It is impeccable timing that meant this blog post went live around 30 minutes before Justin Welby announced that he will be standing down. Mouse will provide more thoughts in due course on that, but Justin's statement can be read here.

The Pagan origins of Halloween are well documented. And largely wrong. Mouse investigates the history of spooky parties and the night of 30 October.

At every major Christian festival stories are told about how it was really a pagan holiday which Christians took over and re-sprayed as the faith grew across the Roman empire. Halloween has one of the most pervasive and pursuasive stories. Authoritative sources across the web tell us the simple tale of how the Celtic pagan festival of Samhaim was appropriated and ammended slightly to become All Hallows. According to Britannica:

Samhain, in ancient Celtic religion, one of the most important and sinister calendar festivals of the year. At Samhain, held on November 1, the world of the gods was believed to be made visible to humankind, and the gods played many tricks on their mortal worshippers; it was a time fraught with danger, charged with fear, and full of supernatural episodes.

Sacrifices and propitiations of every kind were thought to be vital, for without them the Celts believed they could not prevail over the perils of the season or counteract the activities of the deities. Samhain was an important precursor to Halloween.

The long history of linking Christian festivals to pagan ones has a mix of motives. Early stories were told by Victorian romantics who felt it was a positive to show the deeper historical roots of Christian traditions and that it lent them additional gravitas. Some reformers sought to discredit unbiblical festivities by tracing them back to paganism, with the added bonus of making their pre-reformation Catholic brethren appear superstitious and quasi-pagan. This combination has left poorly evidenced historical claims hanging in the air, which have been picked up with vigour by modern secular atheists happy to discredit Christianity entirely, suggesting it is all just a fiction invented to paper over pagan traditions.

So Mouse is glad to see historians investigating these claims and finding that almost none of them hold water. It is almost irresistible to link the ghosts and ghouls of a modern Halloween party to something pagan - it is just what we think a pagan festival might have involved. But the links are surprisingly hard to find.

Image created using Microsoft Designer AI

Let's start by looking at what we know about Samhaim.

Almost all pre-Christian North European cultures appear to have had some sort of festival around the start of November. It was a time when the harvest had been gathered and secured in the food stores for the winter. Men returned from hunting or fighting and organised their homes and affairs. Animals were slaughtered, salted and stored to be eaten through the winter. It was also an important time for tribal assemblies and gatherings, for leaders and rulers to resolve conflicts, assert their authority and offer their benevolence in feasting and gatherings. Pagan cultures would have a range of religious connotations to these events.

The Celts were peoples across much of Northern Europe. They are most well known in Ireland and Scotland, but at its height Celtic culture spread widely across northern, central and southern Europe. That said, it was not an entirely homogenous culture and there was no central authority. As a result, religious practices varied widely. While it is true to say that the festival of Samhaim was Celtic, therefore, it is more accurate to describe it as an Irish Celtic festival.

Professor Ronald Hutton has studied the beliefs of this period extensively and concluded:

Thus, there seems to be no doubt that the opening of November was the time of a major pagan festival which was celebrated, at the very least, in all those parts of the British Isles with a pastoral economy. At most, it may have been general among the ‘Celtic’ peoples. There is no evidence that it was connected with the dead, and no proof that it opened the year, but it was certainly a time when supernatural forces were especially to be guarded or propitiated; actives which took different forms in different regions.

In other words, we don't know very much about Samhaim at all. The word 'Samhaim' simply means November (or summer end literally). Since the Celts were not a literate society, our knowledge of their customs, beliefs and practices is fragmentary and should be treated with caution. When we hear claims of specific beliefs around Samhaim we should treat them with scepticism. Most are derived from writings in the 17th century and not on anything approaching contemporary evidence, so claims that 'the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was believed to be thin at this time', of dressing up and wearing masks are, I'm afraid to say, speculation at best.

It does seem likely that feasting was taking place, conscious that the coming winter was a dark and frightening period, indeed one which often ushered in death, so festivities appear to have confronted this. Ronald Hutton again explains:

People reacted to this forbidding prospect [the coming of winter] in two different ways. One was to make it the festival of divination par excellence, in which humans most frequently tried to predict the future: and in pre-modern times the prediction most often sought was who would live through the winter. The other reaction was to mock darkness and fear, by singing songs about the spirits which personified it (in Wales, for example, the tail-less black sow and the White Lady), or dressing up as them: in other words, to confront boldly the terrors of the season now arriving.

However, it was unlikely to have been a festival of the dead, which where we find them appear to have happened in the Spring as people emerged from the winter and grieved for those who died during the winter months. Nicholas Rogers, a history professor at York University and author of Halloween: From Pagan Ritual to Party Night, “there is no hard evidence that Samhain was specifically devoted to the dead or to ancestor worship, despite claims to the contrary by some American folklorists.”

When we look at how, when and why the Christian churches celebrated All Hallows on 1 November, we have a much clearer paper trail to follow, since this began to be standardised in the 9th century, very much in the historical period.

It appears that since the very earliest recorded history of Christianity there were feasts and festivals dedicated to martyrs and the faithfully departed. The dates for these varied before Constantine. Following the conversion of the Roman empire more consistent dates began to be established. The story of how the date of 1 November became settled is long and complex, but it is clear that it had nothing to do with an Irish Celtic festival. In the 8th century, on 1st November, Pope Gregory III dedicated a chapel to all the saints in St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. Gregory IV then made the festival universal throughout the Church, and 1st November has subsequently become All Saints' Day for the western Church. This was standardised in the 12th and 13th centuries where other dates for the festival were more actively surpressed.

The crucial detail here is that this festival had previously been celebrated in April and was moved in the 8th century under the encouragement of Alcuin and Charlemagne based on the practice of the Frankish churches. Whatever the customs were of pagan Celts in Ireland, they were not a consideration for setting the date of 1 November for a Christian celebration of the martyrs and the faithfully departed.

Some have argued that the November date originates from Irish influences, but more recent scholarship appears to have won this argument. The November date is coincidental with Samhaim, which was not a festival of the dead anyhow.

We are left with the question of how and why the modern halloween has emerged, with dressing up as ghosts and ghouls, trick-or-treating, carving pumpkins and the like. These appear to have been Irish traditions imported to America during the 18th and 19th centuries where the practices caught people's imaginations and became attached to All Hallows Eve.

Mouse draws no conclusion on how Christians should respond to Halloween celebrations today. But we shouldn't be afraid that our kids are accidentally taking part in pagan festivities by putting a pumpkin outside their front door.

The new Government is proposing a Bill to remove all hereditary peers from the House of Lords. Conservative MP and Anglican Gavin Williamson has announced that he will introduce an amendment to remove the entitlement of Church of England bishops to sit in the House of Lords. Mouse takes a look at the history, purpose and performance of the Lords Spiritual.

Image created using Microsoft Designer AI

The Bishop's formal role in the House of Lords traces its origins to the 14th century when two distinct parliamentary bodies emerged. The representatives of the shires and boroughs became known as the Commons, and the meetings of magnates and church leaders became the Lords.

Until the 16th century, the Lords Spiritual were Bishops as well as Abbots and Priors from the monasteries and priories. Following the suppression of the monasteries in 1539, only bishops remained.

Bishops have been removed from Parliament for a short period before. In 1642 they were removed during the civil war, following which the House of Lords itself was abolished before it resumed sitting in 1660. The bishops returned following the Clergy Act of 1661. During this period, the Commons established its primacy over both the King and the Lords, culminating in the 1689 Bill of Rights.

While the Lords Spiritual only come from the Church of England, this has not always been the case. Welsh bishops were historically represented since the Welsh and English Church was united until the 20th century. Following the 1800 Act of Union with Ireland, four senior Irish clergy were sent to the Lords. However, following the disestablishment of the Irish and Welsh churches in 1869 and 1914 respectively, the Welsh and Irish bishops lost their rights to sit in the Lords. 

The Scottish church went in quite a different direction. Historically, Bishops, Abbots, and Priors had sat in the Scottish Parliament, as their equivalents had done in England. The nature of the reformation, however, took the church in a different direction in Scotland and it became a presbyterian church, removing the role of bishop altogether. Scotland has never sent clerics to the UK Parliament.

The current composition of the Lords Spiritual, with 26 bishops entitled to sit, was finalised in 1847 following the establishment of the Bishopric of Manchester. This results in 21 senior Diocesan Bishops (out of 44 dioceses) sitting in the Lords alongside the two Archbishops and bishops of London, Durham and Winchester, which are permanent roles.

The nature of the House of Lords itself has similarly evolved. From an initial entitlement to sit in Parliament on a hereditary basis on equal footing with the Commons, the Lords today has a hollowed-out Parliamentary role and a reformed membership. Life Peerages were created in 1958 (largely) in the gift of the sitting Prime Minister. The Parliament Acts of 1911 and 1949 finally established the total supremacy of the Commons, removing the right of the Lords to block legislation that has been approved by the Commons and reducing the Lords' ability to delay the enactment of Bills passed by the Commons. Tony Blair's reforms removed all but a rump of hereditary peers and made the Upper House a wholly appointed body, with the role of debating and revising legislation, but ultimately one which cannot compel the Commons to act or prevent the Commons from acting, if it is determined not to.

Historically the Lords also had a judicial role as the ultimate court of appeal for civil and criminal cases (with the exception of criminal cases in Scotland which were dealt with in the Scottish judicial system). Appeals were heard by specially appointed Law Lords. However, this role was also removed in 2009 with the establishment of the UK Supreme Court.

Despite all this change, Lords reform has the sense of an incomplete process. The Coalition Government of 2010 initiated Lords reform with the intention of creating a significantly smaller House which would be 'largely or wholly' elected. However, disputes between coalition partners led to that legislation being dropped. Interestingly, the proposals included the retention of the Lords Spiritual, albeit in slightly reduced numbers.

Mouse observes, however, that the question on most reformers' lips is 'what should the Upper Chamber look like' rather than 'what should the Upper Chamber do'. The discussion is dominated by the methods of appointing or selecting peers, rather than on their powers and prerogatives, making it a lopsided discussion, struggling to explain why the chamber should be elected or appointed without an adequate explanation of what the purpose of the chamber is in the first place.

Today, a range of criticisms are levelled at the makeup of the Lords. The rump of hereditary peers feels like a historical relic, for example. And, of course, there have been calls to remove the automatic right of bishops to sit in the Lords. It is, however, the appointments process which has attracted the most criticism. Successive Prime Ministers have appointed new peers at impressive rates in an attempt to level up the numbers on party lines, leading to an ever-growing group of Peers, now totaling over 800 with no mandatory retirement age in place. Each PM has favoured appointees based on political persuasion, which regularly attracts scrutiny. And some individual appointments have attracted particular controversy. Boris Johnson's decision to appoint the son of a Soviet KGB agent was a notable case, although there are plenty of historical examples, such as Harold Wilson's infamous 1976 resignation honours, known as the 'Lavender List'.

Source: House of Lords Library

In this context, some have argued that the Bishops are a model of consistency, probity and integrity, being free from a duty of obligation to the politician or party who nominated them. Democratic arguments are futile in a body which is clearly undemocratic to its fingertips, and a group with a form of 'ex officio' presence makes some sense.

The English Bishops sit as independents. They have not formed a 'party' and do not agree on lines to take or which way to vote. They are, however, organised to some extent. A 'convenor', currently the Bishop of St Albans, Alan Smith, ensures through a rota system that there is some presence in the upper house, not least to formally open business for the day by reading prayers. Different bishops also agree to take the lead on particular issues where they have a strong interest, specialism or experience. Nevertheless, bishops can essentially turn up whenever they want, speak or vote whenever they want and however they want.

As a result, they tend to have sporadic attendance, speaking and voting records. Their attendance has averaged around 15% in recent parliaments. Mouse observes that their voting record tends to skew towards issues they are voting against rather than issues they are voting for. This has particularly been the case in recent Parliaments, with less than 5% of their votes supporting the government since 2019 as their participation in Parliamentary votes jumped significantly then too.

The bishops hold fewer than 3% of all votes and Mouse cannot identify a single vote where they can be said to have clinched the outcome. However, it is often said that their contributions carry considerable moral weight, so their influence is likely greater than their votes alone.

The excellent Church in Parliament website keeps a record of all the bishops' interventions and votes and a scroll through that shows that they tend to speak and vote on moral and social issues, or bring out the moral and social issues in wider topics, which is to be expected.

It is unlikely that Gavin Williamson's amendment will succeed. But pressure for wider reform of the House of Lords is building and a wider package of measures is more likely to include reform of the Bishops' bench.

Support for the current position is thin on the ground. A recent survey of clergy by The Times revealed that only a third of clergy thought the current position should remain. Most argued either for an expansion of the presence of religious leaders from a range of traditions (45%) or other reforms to reduce the number or remove the bishops from the Lords altogether (15%).

A recent YouGov poll showed that 52% of the public supported the removal of the bishops' entitlement to sit in the Lords, and 55% agreed that the Lords should be wholly elected. Only 16% supported retaining the current model.

The best argument the bishops have for keeping their place seems to be that they are a positive presence in the Lords and a proposal to remove them should take a wider review to ensure it doesn't simply make the Lords a worse place.

Mouse's take is that it is impossible to argue that the current setup is anything other than a historical anachronism. However, there are some benefits. The bishops undoubtedly add a positive moral voice in the Lords. Whatever reforms come next, Mouse would advocate for a positive voice from religious communities, including the Church of England, and it would be unwise to remove that from the current Lords without an alternative in place. His advice to the Bishops is to get to work on engaging with the issue and proposing options for the future, as it is unlikely the status quo will remain forever.