A Sermon by the Dean of Norwich

A Church in Crisis? Luke 5.1-11

A Sermon Preached by the Dean of Norwich, 9 February 2025

Last Wednesday evening I was at Rackheath speaking to clergy and representatives of local churches gathered for the Blofield Deanery Synod.

Such gatherings often get a bad press: ‘What do you call a group of people waiting to go home’ – ‘a deanery synod’ as the old joke puts it.

But in Rackheath last week, local churches were sharing miniature portraits of their life and activity. It was impressive.

They spoke of:

Work with schools, and ministry in care homes; running food banks and local community pantries; offering prayer groups and pastoral visits; hosting concerts and community events; keeping open historic churches and churchyards; providing for baptisms, weddings and funerals; enabling a weekly pattern of prayer and worship.

And the majority of this activity is led by local people, inspired by their faith, and giving thousands of volunteer hours each year.

This, I dare to suggest, is the real Church of England – still an unrivalled local network of parishes, schools, chaplaincies and cathedrals covering the whole of the country from coasts to towns, from inner cities to remote rural areas.

I mention all this as context for the crisis the Church of England currently faces.

The General Synod meets this week for the first time since the resignations of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Bishop of Liverpool, and with fresh stories of abuse and cover up hitting the headlines just last week.

I repeat what I said on Safeguarding Sunday in November: the experience and needs of victims and survivors must be at the heart of our response, and the church must be reformed.

One journalist, writing in the New Statesmen recently, described the Church as facing a ‘permacrisis’ – that is to say a deep-rooted and existential threat with no obvious way out.

Alongside safeguarding scandals, there are the threats posed by declining attendances, aging congregations, a paucity of volunteers to fill local church roles, the challenge of maintaining ancient buildings, financial pressures on parishes, divisions over matters of love and faith.

Last month, our sister cathedral at Peterborough launched its own ‘cathedral in crisis’ campaign seeking to raise £300,000 by the end of March.

All this breeds a climate of despondency, anger, suspicion and even despair. Make no mistake, the challenges are profound.

And yet, despite it all, the real Church of England somehow continues, as I was reminded at Rackheath last week.

Well, in today’s Gospel, we also encounter despondent disciples.

They have been fishing all night and caught nothing. They’re tired, exhausted, dejected.

Now they sit at the lakeside washing their nets.

And it's in this time of despondency that Jesus turns to them. ‘Put out into deep water’ he tells them, ‘and let down your nets for a catch’.

Note what Jesus doesn’t say at this point: he doesn’t blame, he doesn’t judge.

Instead he affirms them in their calling to be fishermen. He affirms their identity and who they are – ‘let down your nets’.

The fishermen might feel exhausted and despondent. But Jesus’ task is to lovingly build them up – you are fishermen still – let down your nets.

And that affirmation comes with a challenge – let down your nets in the deep water.

In fact, what Jesus says is common sense advice. In the heat of the day the fish go deeper to find the cooler water. That’s why the fishermen have been out at night, trying to catch the fish when they come up closer to the surface.

But now, when their lives as fishermen are in trouble, it’s time to move without delay from the shallows into the deep.

And so, faithful to Jesus, the fishermen set out. They lower their nets into the deep waters, and they catch so many fish that the nets begin to break.

Might there be a clue here for a despondent church?

To be sure the church’s failures require repentance, and the fruit of repentance must be a commitment to reform.

We need to wash our nets: ensuring the church’s structures and systems are fit for purpose.

But, I suggest, this is also a time to go out into the depths, rediscovering our purpose and identity as the Church of England.

What might that deep identity and purpose look like?

It looks like parishes, chaplaincies, schools and cathedrals spread across the whole nation, committed to being a church for England and not just the Church of England.

It looks like a church deeply marinated in daily prayer, psalmody and the reading of Scripture, formed by word and sacrament.

It looks like a church where faith, reason, scholarship and the wisdom of tradition and experience go hand-in-hand.

It looks like a church that values both beauty and order, that knows the Gospel is often best shared in poetry as well as in prose.

It looks like a church unashamed to be known for its moderation in a world where the voices of extremism get ever louder; a church unashamed to live in a spirit of generosity, hospitality and kindness, standing alongside the vulnerable and marginalised in a world that can seem increasingly conflicted and cruel.

It looks like men, women and children inspired by their faith to quietly be salt and light in the places where they live and work

It looks like a church ready to admit its mistakes, and to learn afresh what it means to love God and to love our neighbours as ourselves.

All these are my aspirations for who we are seeking to be as a Cathedral community, living with hope and faith in uncertain times.

For that journey towards the depths starts with you and me.

If we want to know where the heart and soul of the Church of England is, don’t look for it in Lambeth Palace, or in Church House, Westminster, or in the General Synod.

Look for it instead in our parishes, chaplaincies, schools and cathedrals.

Look for it in the lives of men, women and children seeking to follow Christ.

Not least, look for it in the depths of our own hearts where the grace of God is calling us to know his love, to trust in him, and to follow him faithfully day by day.

Christ calls us to move from the shallows and once again go out into the deep.