Herbert Mason’s photograph of St Paul’s dome emerging from the smoke of the Blitz – offered us a defining image of the Cathedral.  Last week, we were presented with a less inspiring image for these turbulent and uncertain times.  We saw its doors closed for the first time since that war.  Each night, St Paul's clergy recited the Magnificat at Evening Prayer whilst locked away from their new tented neighbours; neighbours who had gathered precisely to fulfil its call to "put down the mighty from their seats", and "fill the hungry with good things".

It would be easy to look for scapegoats for this sad state of affairs, either among the Chapter or the Occupy camp - easy, but fundamentally dishonest.  As Graham Tomlin observes, many of us began with ambivalent attitudes to the protestors.  Unlike the Chapter, we had the luxury of refining our views away from the gaze of the media.  Instead of indulging in recriminations, we should celebrate the new start in the relationship between Cathedral and encampment.  This opened up because Dean, Chapter and Bishop had the humility to recognise a wrong turning, and to change direction.  As Tomlin argues, repentance and a change of direction would be fitting for rest of us too.

What went wrong, and why? It is not that the church always loses its head in a crisis.  When tested by the recent riots – an event at least as sudden and unexpected as the encampment – the response of the parish churches was remarkable.  The Church of England’s presence and engagement at the local level, very often in the neighbourhoods which suffer most from economic injustice, is deeply inspiring.  Nor is the C of E is some kind of intellectual desert.  It is the home of some highly impressive and engaging theologians.  Many of them, including Archbishop Rowan, have been working for some time on the issues raised by the financial crisis.  They have not simply been wise after the event.  Indeed, back in 2009, John Milbank and Luke Bretherton were involved in Citizens UK's response to the credit crunch, offering realistic proposals as well as theological reflection.

So, the Church has local presence and engagement and serious theological reflection.  What we seem to lack (whether accidentally or wilfully) is a credible analysis of power.  Again, the work of Citizens UK provides an interesting counterpoint.  Churches involved in its Living Wage Campaign have worked with mosques and synagogues, schools and unions, to secure £70 million for low-paid workers in London alone.  Banks and NHS Trusts who told the campaign that its demands were legally or economically impossible were changed by a powerful alliance of local people, not simply by dialogue and debate.  Faithful local presence and robust theological reflection were combined with engagement with others who were serious about change – a process which built the power to make things happen.

That story points to some ways forward at St Paul’s.  The protestors have tapped into a huge level of public anger and frustration. Across the spectrum, politicians agree that the gap between rich and poor is too great.  They keep on saying that the pain of financial retrenchment needs to be borne in an equitable way.  The Church needs to do more than add to this chorus of pious aspiration.  It needs to be part of a process which builds relationships and power, and identifies some realistic changes. These should include the anti-usury law which Citizens UK is currently campaigning for – something which emerged from just such a process of deliberation.

 

St Paul’s Cathedral and the protestors are learning that they have a surprising amount in common.  Religious language - of sanctity and sanctuary, of Biblical teaching on usury and Jesus’ attitude to wealth - plays a striking role in the camp’s conversation.  The last fortnight reveals how much an allegedly secular society still looks to its Church for meaning and for value.

So the the camp and the Church share some common aspirations. They also share a common danger. The cathedral's liturgies and the life of the camp both offer us a vision of the world as it should be, of the humble exalted and the hungry fed.  There is a huge temptation to bask in the warmth and safety of the vision; to stay within the confines of cathedral and encampment.  But each of these has a more demanding and exciting vocation - to journey out, to engage with others, and to turn its vision into real and lasting change.

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