Something of a mainstay of evangelical Anglican thought is C.S. Lewis’ famous apologia that,
“A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse”.
Reflecting on the recent conduct of the Archbishop of York, Stephen Cottrell, leads to a similar process of analysis. He doesn’t claim to be divine but is he merely a madman or actually something worse?
In mid-December 2024, it became widely known that, whilst Bishop of Chelmsford, Cottrell twice renewed the appointment of Rev David Tudor, who he knew to be a paedophile, as Area Dean. This was in stark contrast to Cottrell’s previous claim that he’d acted against Tudor “at the first opportunity” and that ,“Up until 2019, there were no legal grounds to take alternative action…”
Two articles by Gavin Drake provide excellent analysis of the facts.
Yet Another Mis-Statement from the Archbishop of York
A humble vicar, who not only allowed a paedophile a prominent parish role but gave repeated personal and public endorsement to him, would, quite rightly, be for the high jump. And what is true of that clergyperson must be all the more so of someone to whom ‘much has been given’. Cottrell may be so careless about safeguarding as to disagree with such strictures, but can he not see how compromised his position is? Is he seriously going to discipline others for offences less serious than his own or is he going to be consistent and make the Diocese of York a safeguarding-free-zone? Is he a madman or something worse?
When faced with his own safeguarding failures, the Archbishop of Canterbury told Kathy Newman he wasn’t going to resign because his anonymous ‘advisors’ counselled him not to. Within weeks, a spokesman for Cottrell explained that the Archbishop of York had twice renewed Tudor’s appointment because, “No one advised him that David Tudor should not continue as an area dean.” Why on earth would Cottrell seek to blame advisors for his poor decisions when such an approach turned out to be such a spectacular failure for Welby? Is he a mad man or something worse?
Welby was lambasted for treating his resignation as an excuse to contine buisness as usual – including attending a dinner for the “great and the good” – when sackcloth and ashes were called for. Stephen Cottrell might have thought that his own interests would best be served by a period of tactful retreat from the public gaze. That would have given at least the appearance of accepting the need for a period of humble reflection and even repentance. But Cottrell does not do private or humble.
So, there was a newspaper column from him in the Yorkshire Post that concluded, “In the last month, the Church of England has been humbled by our failures to keep children and vulnerable adults safe. The Christmas story places a vulnerable child at the centre. This is a lesson for all of us to learn.”
When it is inevitable that such an instruction will be met with something to the effect of, “What?? After two decades as a bishop, you are yet to learn to centre the vulnerable? Over 40 years of ordained ministry didn’t you read Mark 10:13-16 or Matthew 18:6? What did you think those verses meant?”
They might appreciate blunt talking in Yorkshire, but it takes a particular boldness to take to print in order to admit one’s abject failure to discharge the most basic part of the office of bishop. It is even bolder to do so whilst ignoring the widespread calls for your resignation due to failing in the office of bishop. Why do that? Is he a madman or something worse?
Welby’s final misstep was to use the most public of platforms to make an utterly crass and tone-deaf speech that showed no concern for victims of abuse and instead praised himself for falling on his sword. It was an oration that no one, even Welby’s arch-loyalists, could find a means of defending.
So, it might be thought that his arch-episcopal colleague would take note and having made the mistake of imitating him twice not make it thrice. Nope. Cottrell proceeded to preach in his Cathedral on Christmas Day. Not even Welby was daft enough to do that – presumably realising it would be nigh on impossible in the circumstances for him to say anything about the incarnation that would even sound vaguely credible, if not clearly hypocritical. He let the Bishop of Dover ride her usual hobbyhorses instead.
The Archbishop of York, however had no such concerns and obviously no such self-awareness. His peroration was, “Don’t just talk about justice, don’t just talk about joy, don’t just talk about service, don’t just talk about love. Show me!”
If Cottrell had written his Christmas sermon before the story about Rev David Tudor broke, would not a judicious rewrite have been wise? Or if he penned it in the run-up to Christmas could he not have chosen just about any other theme? Perhaps something like 1 John 4:9?
But it wasn’t only that. Cottrell said, “Right now, this Christmas, God’s Church itself needs to come again to the manger and strip off her finery and kneel in penitence and adoration.”
He said that while being the only person standing in the very elevated pulpit of York Minster, dressed in an elaborate gold cope. Our society can be obsessed with the optics, but surely the Archbishop of York could see that as he spoke he was the very image of what he said the Church didn’t need. Is this another sign of madness or sometihng worse?
Then, as soon as the Archbishop of Canterbury laid down his crozier, the Archbishop of York published a letter, “to the clergy, lay ministers and people of the Church of England.” The contents of the letter are less important than his decision to write this letter alone, rather than joining with the Bishop of London, who has also taken on aspects of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s ministry. It would be hard to imagine how Stephen Cottrell could have made it any clearer that, despite all the calls to the contrary, he is now in charge and that he is not going anywhere. Is he a madman or something worse?
Others will come up with other possible explanations for this bizarre pattern of behaviour – that Stephen Cottrell is stupid, or blindly hubristic but there may be another dynamic at work.
As with some elected politicians, the loss of office both removes the protections of office and places the future of the departee in the hands of their successor. For former Archbishops Hope, Sentamu and Carey, their desire to hold Permission to Officiate (PTO) and therefore be able to preach and preside in their local parish, has not been granted by their local diocesan or metropolitan. If, as is believed, Justin Welby will be moving to France, his Permission to Officiate will be in the hands of the Bishop in Europe.
If Cottrell were to resign, Bishop Helen-Ann Hartley might be a prime candidate for the Archbishop of York. She thought Cottrell’s Christmas Day sermon was “empty words”, has accused him of using “coercive language” towards her and showing “…a complete lack of awareness of how power dynamics operate in the life of the Church”. So, if Cottrell stayed in the Northern Province a conversation between them about his PTO might be very interesting.
The experience of three out of the five survivng retired archbishops suggests that, for Cottrell, it may not just be a matter of losing ‘York’ but the end of ministry all together. And then what? It would be hard to be a credible Christian author. He’s no academic. Perhaps a bit of speaking on cruise ships? But then Cottrell hardly has the charm or wit as a dinner guest of Rowan Williams or Richard Chartres.
Again, like some world leaders perhaps the best Cottrell can hope for is that he carries on, utterly incapable of being anything other than what he is – however mad or bad it might be – and hoping that somehow during the next 3½ years the sands will shift and he’ll be OK.
Well, it worked for Donald Trump.
