A sad decision

The decision of the Christchurch Anglican diocese to reinstate the old cathedral seems tragic to me.

The synod by a very slim majority voted reinstatement, knowing that they could then inherit a generous government subsidy – but also that, as the Mayor kept saying, any other decision would result in “endless litigation”.

The government subsidy is not on offer, as far as I know, to other churches or denominations.  Some would say they wouldn’t want to be compromised as Christian churches by taking state money, the more so when it is conditional on deciding to do what the government wants.

I was not there and am no part of it, but to me it looks very much as though the synod, with a gun to its head, submitted meekly to demands from people well beyond the church.  How do the synod members and Christchurch Anglican actual churchgoers feel about the fact that almost 50% of the synod voted otherwise?

I am an unstinted admirer of Bishop Victoria Matthews.  Dignified and wise, and clearly a fine pastor, she told the synod that whatever they decided she would support 100%.  I don’t know what her personal views are, but she comes through as a true bishop.  Ten years, she said, is about what it will take for the reinstatement to be complete.  I wonder whether she sees herself then as officiating at the reconsecration… or as far away by that time.  Meanwhile she intends to care for her parishes and people, and do her episcopal job, as she has done through all the earthquake recovery. 

So now, for the next decade, we will see the old place rising again with interspersed Te Deums, but this time earthquake-strengthened and made to stand there for ever.  As we all know, costs will end up rather more than predicted now. 

It was, it seems to me, always an unexciting old church, unoriginal, a dusty monument to an inglorious past of Victorian propriety – and as a building quite unexceptional in the global cathedral stakes.  The sight of the Christchurch Wizard prancing and posturing in joy at the news of the reinstatement, there in front of the ruins, says it all.  I once long ago sat in that place for a special ecumenical service at which the preacher was the late James K Baxter.  He climbed barefoot into the pulpit, snuffled, and his first words were, “This place gives me hay fever.” 

They were given a priceless opportunity to fill that sad space with something fresh and forward looking, something new, inspiring and meaningful.  It could have been a wonderful gift to the future, rising from the rubble.  But no, they blew it.