The Ashe Lecture for 1997
Given by the Archbishop of Canterbury
St Helen's Church, Ashby-de-la-Zouch
13 October 1997

In less than a thousand days we shall celebrate the beginning of the year 2000 AD. That event will no doubt be marked by many different moods and emotions; but its true significance, and the reason for our celebrations, lies in the letters `AD', Anno Domini, the year of our Lord. In that brief phrase the story of a remarkable man called Jesus, a carpenter from Nazareth, is made the hinge of history. The calendar we have inherited declares that the crucified, risen and reigning Christ is the only King whose reign we measure across the centuries.

Beyond that date, beckons a new millennium, into which our Church and all Churches must step. What kind of world is this likely to be and what kind of Church are we shaping for that future which is so unknown and uncertain? Looking to that future, then, I want to consider tonight the way ahead for the Church of England by exploring three key themes : confidence, mission and unity.

First then, the Confidence of the Church in an Age of Change. In this country, as in most of northern Europe, we face a major missionary challenge. We must be realistic: contemporary society is, in significant ways, hostile to traditional Christian belief and Christian values, however frequently we see God's grace at work in those who do not acknowledge him. To face this challenge we must begin with a right theology of God. Confidence without God is merely whistling in the dark; a wistful hope for a better tomorrow. A confident faith is nurtured in a theological vision of the power of God; facile pessimism is bad theology! Two hundred years ago Samuel Butler, Bishop of Bristol declined the Prime Minister's offer to be Archbishop of Canterbury on the grounds that there is 'no hope for this failing Church'. How wrong he was. We are still here and we might well contrast that pessimistic statement with the optimism of another Bishop Butler, Tom Butler, today's Bishop of Leicester who, in a book jointly written with his wife, wrote: 'We have a vision of a world renewed for God by God, and as we proceed on our journey of faith we, from time to time, are granted glimpses of the promised land which confirm for us that our journey is no wish dream but the most important thing in life or death'.

Again we must return to the significance of the letters 'AD'. The Church is not in the business of keeping a Church organisation going but in bearing witness to Jesus Christ. Christ crucified; Christ risen from the dead; Christ ascended in glory. And that is why Christians are incorrigibly hopeful people - or, at least, why we should be. Just as Samuel Johnston could confess that it was impossible for him to be a true philosopher because cheerfulness kept breaking through, so the faithful followers of Jesus Christ find faith, hope and love piercing the uncertainty and fragility of life and changing the way we see the future. Karl Rahner, that great Roman Catholic theologian and ecumenist, wrote of God's love for humanity: 'If the Church were to develop into a merely humanitarian concern it would be betraying its responsibility because its task is to proclaim to human beings the ultimate seriousness and incomprehensible dignity of this love for human beings'. Love expressed, not through words alone, nor in bursts of special activity, but in consistent self-giving taken to the ultimate. W.H. Vanstone's magnificent hymn says it well:

Therefore he who shows us God
helpless hangs upon the tree;
and the nails and crown of thorns
tell us of what God's love must be'

This is the bedrock of faith and the inspiration of Christianity. And it was that thought of the awesomeness of God's love and its profound effects on people down the centuries that led the youthful C. S. Lewis to faith. In 1925 he paid a visit to Salisbury Cathedral. Seeing the slender spire some fifteen miles away and then, a short time later, visiting the impressive building, Lewis wrote: 'What impressed was the force of mind, the thousands of tons of masonry held in place by an idea, a religion; buttress, window, acres of carving, the very lifeblood of man's work, all piled there, and gloriously useless from the side of base utility for which we alone build now'.

If that confidence in God must permeate and envision our thinking, the claims of the gospel of Christ must mark the work of our Church. And here I accept an opportunity to say a word or two in defence of the Church I represent. I have never denied the fact that statistics show numerical decline. It is clearly the case that more people attended Anglican worship sixty years ago than they do today; it is impossible to deny that we had more serving clergy in the 1950s than now. Such facts may haunt and distress hard-pressed clergy and congregations who feel that in spite of all they do the spectre conjured up in Matthew Arnold's poem Dover Beach dooms all to futility. You may remember his sad lines about the bleak prospect of the 'melancholy, long withdrawing roar' of the sea of faith. What is often forgotten is that Arnold was speaking, not so much about the decline of religion in itself, as the fact that once faith is lost everything is ultimately futile. Nothing permanent remains and no sure guides remain; all we can cling to is human love. Arnold trembles for the human family bereft of certain hope in God. So he writes:

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! For the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night'.

It may seem an extraordinary poem to write on one's honeymoon - which he did - leaving us with a picture of the terrifying implications of loss of faith. But in fact, despite smaller numbers, that faith is very much alive. Perhaps Arnold, unorthodox Anglican that he was, would be surprised that Christianity, nearly 150 years on, is still well rooted in this land and that his Church, the Established Church, is still here, vigorous, outward looking and confident in a God who, in spite of the ebbs and flows of life, equips his Church to face change.

Let me then follow the apostolic example of St. Paul who in 2 Corinthians 11 boasts of his trophies in Christ and let me list some of ours. All the other Christian Churches have their own distinctive treasures, which I value and honour as a fellow Christian, but it does us no harm to remember our own special contribution also. There are still 16,000 parish Churches in England where the praises of God are sung; where faithful congregations lovingly maintain time honoured stone and fabric. In every diocese there are churches which are growing numerically, some of them rapidly. In every diocese too there are many churches in which the faith is being effectively communicated, joyfully celebrated, and lived out quietly in a spirit of true sacrifice.

Nearly 10,000 stipendiary priests live in our parishes, assisted by 2,000 non stipendiary priests and 9,000 licensed Readers. Indeed when you add in the many serving through chaplaincies, and those who remain very active in retirement, the total of those involved in one of these ministries comes to more than 23,000. In addition, we have over 1,000 people in training for the ordained ministry and this year ordination figures are up by 15 per cent. The Church of England's parishes cover every inch of England. Indeed, it is a remarkable fact that we have more clergy now in the urban areas than we had ten years ago, and those clergy do actually live in their communities, unlike many of the other professionals who work in them.

Ten years ago the Church of England committed itself to expanding its urban presence through Faith in the City and the Church Urban Fund; an initiative which has fuelled over 1,000 urban projects, often carried through in partnership with other local agencies, Churches and faith groups. We have nearly 5,000 Church of England schools, that is more than a fifth of all state schools, serving 12.5% of all children educated in the public sector in England. This Church is still committed to the Decade of Evangelism and seeking ways to be an outward looking, positive Church at the heart of our nation. We make by far the greatest financial contribution to support ecumenism in this country. All these suggest that confidence is not just a desirable goal to aim for but is something that is already present and is being actively expressed.

And our capacity for reform and self-renewal has been demonstrated again and again. Profound changes in patterns of ministry. The empowerment of lay people. Burgeoning numbers of non-stipendiary ministers. Reforms in the Church Commissioners and our national institutions. The ordination of thousands of women to the diaconate and priesthood. Dynamic evangelising initiatives and church-planting. The Church of England is on the move, trusting not in our own capacities alone but in the radical power of God's Holy Spirit. These are God's trophies. They are worth extolling now and again because there will be some gainsayers who are only interested in telling bad news about the Church. There are times when quite properly it is needful to celebrate what God is doing through our Church, the Church of England. No Church, any more than a secular institution or business, can prosper if it is not confident in its being and prepared to meet the changes that lie ahead. We are not complacent, but we are confident because we trust in God.

If confidence is my first word, mission must be my second: the Mission of the Church in an Age of Challenge. The pace of change in our world has accelerated dramatically. Economic, social and cultural changes are sweeping across the globe. Some of these, like the fall of totalitarian Communism and Apartheid, bring hope. Continuing wars, injustice, poverty and environmental devastation, are profoundly discouraging. But my key point for now is that religion and the search for a deeper spirituality has not been left behind by the many changes going on. There is no sign of the demise of religion in the world at large. Even in Western Europe, the decline in formal religious observance clearly does not imply wholesale abandonment of belief in the religious and spiritual significance of life. Some are, of course, hostile or indifferent, but I discern a continuing deep respect these days for the Churches when the faith is practised with sincerity; something of which we saw in the humbling, astonishing reaction to the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.

Of course, flowers, messages and the spontaneous outpouring of grief do not by themselves indicate an implicit spirituality. But it was noticeable how many makeshift shrines appeared. And as well as the flowers piling up outside Buckingham Palace and St. James' Palace, they were taken in vast quantities to our cathedrals and parish churches. Hundreds of churches had special services for Diana; thousands of people came to light candles in her memory. York Minster, I am told, sold 15,000 candles that week. Together with other clergy I mingled with the crowds outside Westminster Abbey the evening before the funeral service and listened to people speak freely of their hopes and fears, their beliefs and their doubts, in terms that penetrated beyond the surface of things to the meaning of life and death.

Moreover, millions of people, thanks to the media, were able to participate in the service itself. They were grateful for the great Abbey that provided an accessible, inclusive and yet distinctively religious setting in which to place their collective memories, sorrows and thanks. The perspective it gave of the loving, self-giving God who gives light to the world felt to millions of people, many of whom may not have gone to a church service in years, a fitting and satisfying perspective in which to pay their last respects and bid her goodbye. They were able to come together in faith, hope and love to that House of God. Yet many of them would not see themselves as belonging to the Church.

If I am right in painting a picture of a society not antagonistic to faith but in many cases distant from the claims of organised religion, what does this have to say to us about the 'way ahead' in Mission as we enter this new Millennium?

As I suggested a moment ago, I believe we need to pay more attention to the spiritual needs of our day. What did William Temple mean when he said long ago: 'The Church of England is dying of good taste?' He would not have argued against the excellence of our choral traditions any more than I would, but I believe he was addressing the urgent need to have forms of liturgy which connect with the wide variety of people who make up our nation. The funeral service for Princess Diana had all the dignity and beauty that we associate with Westminster Abbey but the Dean also had the courage to listen to what people were longing for in the midst of their shock, and grief, and pain. Elton John in a Cathedral funeral service seemed before the event an extraordinary element. All credit to the approach which can embody such an element where it felt natural and where it evoked such emotions in a way that nothing else could have done.

It was also clear up and down the country that many people wanted to participate in rituals such as the lighting of candles, the laying of wreaths and silent prayer, through which they could express their longings, their searchings and supplications on their own terms and in their own way. The many churches which offered themselves generously and sensitively for these purposes were building bridges between people's innate spiritual needs and the life of the Church. I hope many will take this much further, in imaginative new ways. We must make more space for people to open their hearts to God and express themselves - and not be content simply to offer our own established rituals on a take-it-or-leave-it basis.

I am glad that it is now so common for the churches to arrange for spiritual gatherings, celebrations and prayer outside, as well as within, church buildings. The flourishing condition of many retreat houses, home groups, and church plants is suggestive. I think too of the work of Taiz‚ and the L'Arche Communities with their profound impact on the lives of thousands of young people. Some parishes too are using their church buildings to develop youth congregations, whilst elsewhere many are making creative use of special services touching people at points of joy, or sorrow, or concern - be they in the renewal of marriage vows, the anniversaries of a bereavement, or in response to a passion to care for our environment. We must continue to multiply the opportunities we give for spiritual searching, discussion and ritual beyond the more traditional setting of our regular church services.

But of course, what goes on in our regular services also needs careful consideration. I treasure the liturgy of the Book of Common Prayer as a bond between Anglicans across the world, but our liturgical framework can also leave space for much spontaneity and variation; we have a lot to learn in this respect from Anglican Provinces in the Third World, where services are so often full of exuberance and joy.

As our General Synod, led by the Liturgical Commission, prepares to offer our Church a new Alternative Prayer Book for the new Millennium, I also want to urge the importance of simplicity, beauty - and brevity. Many people estranged from organised religion do not take kindly to the prolonged wordiness of many Anglican services. 'A sermon that is immortal doesn't need to be everlasting' was the plea to one preacher. That equally applies to services as well.

If mission has consequences for worship then, equally, so it has for the organisation of the Church. In recent years we have been working for the reform of the central structures of the Church of England. In spite of what some commentators say, this is not another form of bureaucratic fiddling; it is to address with urgency a chronic structural incoherence at the heart of the Church. What other organisation would have a complete separation between finance and vision? What other organisation would have four distinct bodies all working in the area of policy? And yet, the Church of England currently does with the House of Bishops, the General Synod, the Church Commissioners, and the Central Board of Finance. We can do better and the proposals which will be discussed by this November's Synod will consider plans for an Archbishops' Council which will bring together policy and finance and, together with the Synod and the House of Bishops, will help us to focus more clearly our Church's strategy and mission.

Organisation, of course, is important but only to the degree that it assists the Church in its primary calling of bringing the grace and truth of God to our generation. The two primary tasks of the Church are worship and witness. It ever lives both to extol the majesty and greatness of God and to proclaim his love both in word and action. Let me say four things about the latter and about the links between mission and evangelism.

First, we must develop new ways of speaking about the Christian faith both in the words we use, and the ways we say them. We must learn to avoid the technical language of theology and the preciousness of 'God-speak'. Sometimes this is called a 'new apologetic', but I am not talking merely about finding ways in which to address the real questions that thinking people see as obstacles to faith - science, the problem of evil and the apparent irrelevance of an institutional faith. All those are important of course, but I am speaking more broadly of finding ways of conversing that will allow the Church to tell its story. I believe that is beginning to happen. Let me offer two examples. A lady known to me as Pat is currently doing an Open University Course on the Humanities. She spoke of a recent unit in which her Summer School were discussing 'life and death' issues. To her surprise she found in the candour and vigour of their discussion the majority 'agnostic' position had no answer to give to issues of life and death. Her voice sounded fresh and hopeful in the void of unbelief. The intellectual context gave her permission to tell her story.

I think also of a group of sixth formers who, as part of their studies, invited a group of local churchgoers along to their school for a discussion about the relevance of the Christian faith in this day and age. Later the sixth formers expressed their amazement at the intellectual honesty of ordinary Christians who from their life experience had beliefs and hopes and were able to give reasons for their faith. The encounter was an impressive illustration of Christian witness but was completely uncontrived and free of jargon and obstructive language.

We need to remember that language is tricky stuff and that human beings use language in different ways at different times. We need to be wary too of talking to each other within our churches in a sort of ecclesiastical code and to be mindful of the effect that has on newcomers or others who are unfamiliar with it. We also need to remember that at times other registers of language have a special capacity to convey meaning. I think, for instance, of the great cadences of the Book of Common Prayer or the tradition of religious poetry that have a power all their own. I would urge us all to remember that modern or simple ways of talking about our faith need not be banal or ugly; they too can and should be beautiful. Let us bring to our aid novelists, poets, musicians and artists who from their explorations touch the world of the spirit and move tangentially in the arena of spirituality. It was of this exploration that the late Bishop John Tinsley, quoting the poet Emily Dickinson, urged the Church to 'tell it slant'; in other words, there are ways of expressing the Christian message, elliptically and cautiously, that may resonate better and more deeply than bald statements and may draw people on to explore questions of faith. We have wonderful opportunities to convey the faith - in words, but also in music and the visual arts - all of which need to be put creatively to the service of the gospel.

Secondly, we must continue to do all we can to translate the Christian message into social action. In addressing fellow Anglicans gathered in Kanuga, at a conference called to assess where we had reached as a Communion half way through the Decade of Evangelism, I reminded them that "Mission which does not have evangelism as a focus is not Christian mission; and evangelism which keeps itself aloof from matters of justice and human welfare does not reflect adequately the Biblical revelation."

In our efforts to be His apostles and disciples, we can be proud of the great charities and mission agencies which have close connections with our Church. We can be proud of organisations like the Children's Society, the Church Army and the Mother's Union who are responsible for such important work amongst those in the most deprived sections of our society. Likewise overseas mission agencies such as CMS, USPG, and SAMS have a fine tradition of providing hospital care, education, and agricultural assistance, often for the poorest of the poor. But alongside the work of these bodies there are countless projects which are part of the mainstream life of parish churches up and down the country, not to mention the specialist ministries to prisons, hospitals, the armed forces, schools and industry. While not minimising the current work going on, let me urge all our churches to see social action and outreach as a natural extension of mission. It is these that give the Church its authenticity in many people's eyes. One of the great binding convictions among the multitudes mourning the Princess of Wales was their admiration for her compassion and commitment to people in need, especially the marginalised, the lonely and the stigmatised. Likewise compassion and commitment lie close to the heart of the Christian faith.

Of course, I must warn against the subtle temptation of busyness because it is self evident that no church can possibly respond to every need we see in our communities. We have neither the people nor the financial resources to do so. But I am sure we can do more, often in partnership with others. What about those facing the challenge of bringing up children, whether as single parents or as a couple? What about young people? What about the needs of the elderly? What are we doing for the unemployed? And for those in employment as they seek to balance the many demands on their lives? What about ex-offenders as they leave prison? And those seeking to avoid slipping into a life of crime as they struggle to make ends meet? A caring Church is an observant church, listening and reacting to need; but also being pro-active in seeing what might enrich the community in which it is situated. Christian action is right and good in itself; it is also a route through which those who value deeds more highly than religious words can open their lives and hearts to God's service and come to love Him.

Thirdly, we must continue to take evangelism more thoroughly into our systems. This, by the Grace of God, I believe we are beginning to do. The Decade of Evangelism has been embraced both by central Church bodies and by all our dioceses with great seriousness. I think of the work being done by theologians and teachers such as Philip King, at the Board of Mission; John Finney in his research on how people become Christians; and Robert Warren with his exploration of missionary congregations; the outreach work by the Springboard team led by Martin Cavender; and the visionary work of Bob and Mary Hopkins, and George Lings, of the Anglican Church Planting initiative. Or again I think of the Alpha, Credo and Emmaus Courses and the great variety of enquirers groups springing up all over the country now involving tens of thousands of people annually. All these and much more besides are giving a confidence in evangelism which has been lacking for many generations. Skills and good practice are being developed more systematically as attitudes change.

Of course, more can and must be done by us all. We must use our imaginations more in showing that the Christian faith makes all the difference. We must use them too in finding ways of integrating these people into the worshipping life and structures of the Church so that they feel they belong and have a contribution to make. To take one example, let us be ready to learn from the rapid growth of Pentecostalism in South America and South East Asia. Or again are there insights from the growing evangelical / charismatic tradition in this country that we should heed? For instance, how may we include contemporary forms of music alongside the traditional so that people are drawn to a deeper knowledge of God? My recent visit to Christchurch in New Zealand took me to the cathedral there. I was told that every month it has a jazz evensong in which a good jazz band leads the worship. It is fully an act of worship with a liturgy, readings and a lively address - but in the context of jazz music. It may not surprise you that it is by far their most popular service. It might surprise you, however, to discover that many of the regulars at that service are now fully integrated into the life of its congregation as practising Christians.

And that is only one illustration among many. But we must learn not to equate the proclamation of the Good News with what happens in church. The conversations we have with our families and friends, being the people we are in all we do in our daily lives, are part of being evangelists for Christ. We have to be prepared to get out there and be with people, for people, on their territory as well as ours. One of the congregations in my diocese has opened a Church in a disused pub and has created an ambience of worship which is very attractive to young people. Let me stress again that I am not advocating the wholesale rejection of the traditional and well-loved from the past, but I do plead for a vigorous diversification as we try to make the glories of the faith accessible to people where they are, now, and not where we might prefer them to be.

Fourthly, and following on from that, we must learn to be a more generous Church. We are not here for ourselves but for the world. Of course, people will sometimes let us down and abuse the trust we put in them; but that is no excuse for erecting barriers which will simply confirm the suspicion that many people have about the Church that we are not there for them. William Golding, in one of his books, describes a Religious Education lesson in which the teacher seeks to instil the Good News into one of her more reluctant pupils by slapping him three times around the head while, as the same time, shouting 'God is love'. We can sometimes slip into less extreme versions of self-righteous, coercive or exclusive behaviour. Let us remember that our God is a Servant King, and that we are here to serve. The Church of England in particular is here to serve all parishioners, the whole country. We are a Church for England as well as a Church of England. If modern people are out of tune with the life of the Church our task is to make connections with the inchoate hopes and feelings they bring at moments of celebration or sadness. It is said of the Servant in Isaiah 42 that 'a bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out'. If that is an accurate description of our Lord it is surely the 'mission statement' of the Church. The Early Church took note that 'kindness' (Chrestos) was but a hairs-breadth from 'Christos' (Christ).

If we wish to continue to be a national Church which serves the whole nation, not just the regular church-going flock, we must continue to maintain our parochial system and this I am fiercely committed to doing. What is more, we can do it - but only if we develop flexible modes of ministry. Stipendiary clergy will continue to be important for leadership and we must encourage younger people to respond to the challenge of entering the ordained ministry. The latter will of course never attract people for financial reward or crude career opportunities. But have you noticed that whenever the surveys on job satisfaction are produced this ministry comes out consistently high? No more rewarding job can be found than that of serving God in the full time ordained ministry. But alongside that form of service we need non-stipendiary and local non- stipendiary deacons and priests. I thank God for the many men and women who have already responded, and are now responding to that call. And they, in turn, come from the great body of lay men and women who are the backbone - indeed, the life blood of the Church. How very tardy we have been in the past to recognise the ministry of the laity! But we are beginning to get there now. I am not thinking primarily about our churchwardens, choir members, flower arrangers, servers, organists and licensed readers, vital as they are to our own worshipping communities. I am thinking of the talents, experience and resources of all the people of God as they contribute to building up the life of the Church and to living out the Gospel in their daily lives.

The Confidence of the Church in an Age of Change; the Mission of the Church in an Age of Challenge; and thirdly, and finally, The Unity of the Church in an Age of Fragmentation.

Let me return to those powerful images of the funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales: the hundreds gathered for that great service in the Abbey; the crowd of hundreds of thousands thronging the streets; the hundreds of millions watching it around the globe on television or listening to it on the radio. We have much to learn from these images. They challenge the prevailing view that we live in a world solely characterised by increasing fragmentation and disunity; these images suggest that all may not be quite as simple as it seems. We may have to be rather more careful when it comes to describing the times in which we live.

All of those who shared in that funeral, in whatever way, were bound together. It was, to my mind, a powerful vision of unity. We were bound together in so many ways: a common admiration for this young woman, a common grief and anxiety, a common sense of waste and futility, a common awareness of our own mortality. And so many diverse people; church people, members of other faith communities, people of no overt religious faith together with fellow travellers and searchers; all shared in something very significant indeed. It was a great expression of common humanity, rich and diverse, with the centrality of its purpose transcending, encompassing, and affirming that diversity.

This concrete vision helps me towards articulating the great vision of unity (which should never be confused with uniformity) and interdependence that is God's vision for his creation. This is a vision in which the whole is far more than the sum of its parts. It is a vision which cherishes diversity yet does not belittle the damage done by factiousness and division. It is a vision in which all things are important from the delicate balance of the world's ecosystems to individual relationships between peoples. Above all, it is God's vision which the Christian Church has traditionally cherished and explored in its theology of the life of the Holy Trinity - that communal life that we call in Greek, "koinonia". Deep in our theological tradition as Anglicans lies the theology of the Cappadocian Fathers. They had a particular vision of the Holy Trinity as interdependent - in fact, they used the word "perichoresis" to describe the relationship between Father, Son and Holy Spirit, a word that has its root in the word for dance. Gregory of Nazianzen reminds us of the organic link between Trinity and Unity:

"I have scarcely begun to think of the Unity before the Trinity bathes me in its splendour: I have hardly begun to think of the Trinity before the Unity seizes hold of me again." Gregory Nazianzen, Oration 49, On Baptism, 41

I believe that the churches are called to reflect and to model this divine "koinonia" amongst and within themselves. Indeed the Church has to address issues of unity and diversity because both of them have major implications for our life and witness in the world. That is what it is for us to be faithful to the injunction in John 17, where Jesus prayed that 'all should be one ... that the world may believe'. I also believe that we need to hold before us all the time this positive, larger and, perhaps, more awesome vision, of the dynamic interplay between unity and diversity in the whole of the cosmos if we are to make sense of and solve the scandalous divisions within the Body of Christ.

Theological dialogues and commissions dealing with the nuts and bolts of relationships between and within churches are important, but every so often it is important to lift our eyes from the page and glimpse the real end of the journey . Only in so doing can we be really sure that we are being faithful to God's will. The whole task of ecumenical dialogue is to set down and explore issues of difference within the context of the larger unity that I have been describing - the very unity that God is calling us to manifest in our own Church life. I believe that if we were better at holding on to the greater vision then the imperative to move forward creatively to remove barriers and heal rifts would become even more urgent.

But against that background of the vision of God's unity and the urgency of its claims upon us, I want to be clear that there is much to celebrate. At the end of the most ecumenical of centuries we can be clear that attitudes between the Churches have changed out of all recognition. There is now a new maturity in our relationships and that can only be good news for those who seek for a credible and mission-orientated church.

In over 800 places in our land, in Local Ecumenical Projects and Covenants, Christians work and worship closely together, serving their local communities, celebrating and sharing their faith as well as their resources. On a larger scale, there are developments like the Porvoo Agreement which have brought about a new communion in Northern Europe - a remarkable and prophetic development in the context of a Europe which is itself trying to find the right balance between unity and diversity.

Indeed if I listed in detail all the ecumenical advances of the last few years we would be here all night! But I want to say that I believe that the Churches are on a journey together trying to witness to the gift of unity that is already ours. Unity is about turning to Christ; conversion to Christ, and to each other, in Christ.

And if that is true for relationships between Churches, then it is also true for our own life within the Anglican Communion. There have been times in our history when we have been a divided body, separated into sharply differentiated traditions - evangelicals, catholics and liberals - each fiercely determined to get power and control the agenda of the Church. I hope we are learning that this is not the way of Christ. Division serves no Christian purpose and even when we justify it in the name of truth it is the body of Christ we are rending asunder. In the Virginia Report which will be studied by the bishops gathered at the Lambeth Conference next year, the Anglican Communion takes a close look at itself and the way its structures need to develop in order to foster its faithfulness to God's calling to be one. For we recognise in ourselves the need to develop a creative synthesis of diversity in the service of unity. Of course we need to be clear that celebrating diversity does not mean that 'anything goes' - there are limits to diversity and part of the excitement of unity is staying together and facing new challenges together. We understand part of that search to be one of finding coinherence and interdependence between the provinces of our Communion. These are hard questions but we must not and will not avoid them.

I began with the night we greet the year 2000. An enormous amount of thought is now being focused on that moment and the events that surround it. Every day, it seems, brings another new idea, another scheme, another plan to mark the beginning of the third Millennium. As I speak a roadshow is travelling around England encouraging parishes to think what they can do under the banner of 'A new start - for the world's poor, at home and with God'. Great efforts are being made to ensure that the concerns of the Churches and other faith communities are properly represented at the Greenwich Dome. Campaigns are being mounted, led by our brothers and sisters in the Roman Catholic Church, to call for relief in the terrible burden of Third World debt.

The legacy of some of these will be brief - for others much longer - but in turning our attention to confidence, mission and unity I hope I have focused our thinking again on those things which will, in St Paul's words, abide. For beyond all this activity lies the One who is the same yesterday, today and forever. The same - and yet the One too who, in all his creativity, is ever open to new challenges and fresh opportunities. The One who, before the beginning of time 'brooded over the waters', and who, at the end of time will 'make all things new.' And it is into his hands that we can commit our futures knowing that the highways and byways he will lead us into will have many an excitement, and an occasional shock, as we turn a corner to find an unexpected obstacle, or mount a rise to discover a breathtaking view.

In the words of Dante's great vision of paradise -

O light eternal fixed in Self alone
Known only to Yourself, and knowing Self
You love and glow, knowing and being known!

... like a wheel in perfect balance turning
I felt my will and my desire impelled
By the love that moves the sun and the other stars.