In England, the Anglican church is the established church. Unlike the United States, there is no separation of church and state – quite the reverse: the Anglican church is The Church of England. No other church, and no other Christian denomination, is anything other than ‘one of the churches which operate in the United Kingdom’. But our monarch is ex officio ‘Head of the Church of England’. Some of our bishops sit in the House of Lords in ‘the Mother of Parliaments’, helping to draft the laws of the land. The Church of England is inextricably woven into the fabric of our national political life.

We say that we live in a parliamentary democracy, and that we have had universal suffrage for all in the United Kingdom since 1928.

And yet, when the Church of England is planning to introduce changes which radically change the relationship between Bishops and people, the Church has made no attempt to inform the people of what is proposed. Why has a pastoral letter not been issued by the Archbishop of Canterbury to be read from every Anglican pulpit in the land?

By what right does the Church expect to impose the radical changes of the Covenant with only the most token of consultations at diocesan (and in some cases deanery) level, with in most cases no provision for people to inform themselves of the background? In General Synod in November 2010, disgracefully, only papers putting the case for the Covenant were allowed to be circulated.

Do you know the poem by G K Chesterton, The Secret People?

Smile at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget,
For we are the people of England, that never has spoken yet…
You laugh at us and love us, both mugs and eyes are wet:
Only you do not know us. For we have not spoken yet…

And the face of the King’s Servants grew greater than the King:
He tricked them, and they trapped him, and stood round him in a ring.
The new grave lords closed round him, that had eaten the abbey’s fruits,
And the men of the new religion, with their Bibles in their boots,
We saw their shoulders moving, to menace or discuss,
And some were pure and some were vile; but none took heed of us.
We saw the King as they killed him, and his face was proud and pale;
And a few men talked of freedom, while England talked of ale…

They have given us into the hands of the new unhappy lords,
Lords without anger and honour, who dare not carry their swords.
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes;
They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs,
Their doors are shut in the evenings; and they know no songs.

We hear men speaking for us of new laws strong and sweet,
Yet is there no man speaketh as we speak in the street.
It may be we shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first,
Our wrath come after Russia’s wrath and our wrath be the worst.
It may be we are meant to mark with our riot and our rest
God’s scorn for all men governing. It may be beer is best.
But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet.
Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget.

Please pray that the Church of England relents, and decides to consult the people of England – from whence come their congregations – before any irrevocable steps are taken.