On the (real) archbishop of Canterbury and John Henry Newman

What is the answer to the question, “Who is the Archbishop of Canterbury?”

It is “John Wilson”. He is also the Archbishop of Ramsgate, Rochester, Croydon, Sevenoaks, Tunbridge Wells, Tooting Bec, Wallington, and Wimbledon, along with several suburbs and villages in between. As Archbishop of Southwark, he has episcopal authority over all of South London, Kent, and parts of Surrey, and has done so since his appointment in 2021 in succession to Archbishop Peter Smith, who in turn succeeded Archbishop Kevin McDonald—and so on, back for almost two centuries. All of those men were, like Archbishop John, in communion with the Catholic Church and with Canterbury’s first Archbishop, Augustine, who had been sent by Pope Gregory in the late sixth century to evangelise the English.

Sometimes history brings pleasing coincidences. As when the Anglicans recently decided to make their own appointment to Canterbury, just as Catholics were celebrating the anniversary of September 29, 1850, when a full hierarchy of Catholic bishops was re-established by Rome.

The Canterbury appointment by the Anglicans did not, in any case, quite have the excitement that it might have years or decades ago. A headline about a female archbishop in the Church of England no longer heralds news, but is simply the announcement of something expected. The lady who will now hold the title “Archbishop of Canterbury” is Dame Sarah Mullally (damehood being an honour conferred by the Crown for public service, as knighthood is for men), who now takes up the role that will include performing some major public ceremonies and allow her substantial scope for making pronouncements on national issues.

Mrs. Mullally holds the standard Church of England opinions. As bishop of London, she voted to bless same-sex unions, was not vocally opposed to abortion, and veered towards preferring the idea of “choice”, and so on. Before opting to be ordained into the Church of England, she held nursing and then administrative positions in the National Health Service. Probably, within the Church of England’s upper structures, the standard response to her appointment is that she is a “safe pair of hands”.

But it is not going to work out well. It seems quite unlikely that under Dame Sarah there will be a massive revival of missionary zeal in the Church of England, and a substantial filling of churches. It seems far more likely that the general sense of decline will continue, although her style might be endearing. She is, by all accounts, a pleasant lady, affable and with a general message of encouragement and goodwill.

While speculation was mounting about the Canterbury appointment, a new Anglican archbishop was appointed for Wales. Unlike Mrs Mullally, that lady is in a formal civil union with a lesbian partner. The appointment has caused some distress among Anglicans in Africa, and various formal statements of dismay and dissent have been made.

There is talk of a quiet revival in Christianity in Britain, and some evidence of it is seen among the young. But it is happening among Catholics, and among some Evangelical groups—not in mainstream Anglican churches.

Meanwhile, history rolls on. In 1852, Fr. John Henry Newman—ordained in Rome in 1847 after a lifetime of distinguished service in academia and in the Anglican Church—preached at the celebratory Mass giving thanks for the restoration of the Hierarchy. In this famous “Second Spring” sermon, he spoke of the revival of the Catholic Faith that was taking place in England. He spoke of great states that had passed into history—“Babylon was great, and Tyre, and Egypt, and Nineveh, and shall never be great again”—and then of the great revival and renewal that the bishops gathered that day at Oscott were experiencing, and which was a restoration such as had not occurred in these great pagan dynasties.

“The English Church was, and the English Church was not, and the English church is one again. This is the portent, worthy of a cry”. He didn’t speak in exclamation marks, but I wish I could put one there. Because, even as he also warned that—like every English spring—there would be uncertainty and “keen blasts, and cold showers, and sudden storms”, there was a promise that would be fulfilled.

And here we are. As we mark the anniversary of that sermon, and thanksgiving Masses are held in various dioceses, we are all too aware of the mix of falling Mass attendance starting in the 1960s, extraordinary revivals of half-forgotten devotions from the 2000s onwards, and young people packing out summer gatherings in 2025. We are not smug; we must be dedicated to prayer and to sacrificial action and evangelization.

But, in all honesty, we do believe that the cause entrusted by Pope Gregory to Augustine at Canterbury is an inheritance that remains still in the care of that same Church, is sacred, and will survive and thrive.