Many within the Church of England love to hate the General Synod; others love to love it. The reasonable view is probably somewhere between these two: seeing the beast as a necessary part of the church's menagerie but one that is best kept caged and at some distance, so that it does not devour you and you can get on with all the things that Christians should get up to. Colin Buchanan, however, has written a love story. He has all the signs of being head over heels in love and, what is more, has kept that up for thirty-five years, which is a monogamous feat and an example to all. To be fair and to complete the picture, the Synod also loved him in a way, rather in the manner that you love (to continue the beast analogy) an infuriating dog which, while yapping and running errands, at the same time turns cartwheels that make everyone laugh.
I have to say that the love story was best conducted in the Synod chamber and in the legion committees that are its offspring. In print, spread over 324 pages, somehow you lose the excitement. Even if you were there (and I was for some of it) the book is pretty dense stuff and does not quite convey the sheer brilliant excitement of love. It also has a lot about a certain Colin Buchanan. There is a story (possibly apocryphal) that when Bishop William Ullathorne's book on the subject of humility was delayed at the printers in 1886, he went down to enquire as to the reason and was told that they had run out of the capital letter ‘I’, but that more were on the way. It is perhaps a downside of modern technology that there is now an infinity of any letter you care to choose.
Having made these somewhat disparaging remarks, there is no doubt that there is a record here that can complement the verbatim reports and the committee minutes that must fill vaults in Church House. It is in-house stuff, but good of its sort, and there are meticulous accounts of many issues that seemed important at the time and a number that are genuinely and perennially crucial. Much of it is on the liturgy, which is Colin Buchanan's special subject and on which he shows his great knowledge and untiring energy, representing a fairly protestant view. One chapter is entitled ‘Six other liturgical issues’. It contains a section on prayer for the departed, which gives a good account of the various disagreements over the years, not least with the lawyers. The lawyers had been insisting on all the prayers in a communion service being printed out, whereas Buchanan had been urging a rubric saying ‘Here suitable prayers are used …’. He writes: ‘We defeated the lawyers, and drafted accordingly’ (p 86). Indeed, there is scope in the book for lawyers: many accounts of sparring with David McClean and, in one way or another, law crops up with unsurprising regularity. The Legal Advisory Commission gets a mention in relation to priests ordained abroad by women bishops; canon law is revised, which Buchanan admits is wearisome (p 219); the role of Parliament is frequently criticised.
As usual with such books, the best parts are the personal stories and the section I have just mentioned on prayer for the departed is livened up enormously by Michael Ramsey's attack on the resulting draft: ‘It reminds me a little of the kind of beverages sometimes produced in the forlorn hope they will satisfy both teetotallers and others.’ I guess he was referring to sarsaparilla, which is certainly as revolting as the worst of Church of England liturgy. I longed for more stories. Ramsey again, when someone tried to move an amendment to the ten commandments: ‘No, God gave them to Moses and we cannot amend them.’ A certain Canon Bryan defended glebe land on the grounds that he had ploughed it himself (which is reasonable). John Sentamu, now Archbishop of York, described a report on the ordination of women to the priesthood as ‘unanimous disagreement’.
In spite of these lighter touches, it is hard to imagine this book being read by those other than hardened insiders. For a start, there are innumerable names that mean nothing to most people. There is a strange appendix, with the title ‘A few personalities’, which contains short sketches from a Buchanan point of view. It omits reference to David Jenkins, who was a real Synod character and one of the few to get the Synod on its feet for a standing ovation. A more complete and less journalistic account could not have left that out.
So, this is a book for Synod cognoscenti who are at home in a churchy world. Colin Buchanan has been a distinguished worker in the cause and without him innumerable questions would not have been asked or indeed answered. The Synod is of interest, not least because it is the place where the Church of England does its washing, very publicly. Most of that interest is topical: the sort shown by the press. If, however, you want to delve into the detail of its past from a particular Buchanan perspective, then this is the book for you.