the scottish episcopal church

A New History, by gavin white

Preface

1
Tullochgorum

2
Eighteenth Century

3
Seabury

4
Worship

5
Edinburgh

6
Oxford Movement

7
Glasgow

8
Publications

9
Church or Province

10
'English Episcopal'

11
Schools

12
Social Service

13
Synods and Councils

14
Clergy Training

15
A Small Dog Barking

16
As Others See Us

17
Women

18
Society

19
Second World War and After

Selected bibliography

Links

If the strident class bias of successive Episcopal Church magazines through the 1920s had disappeared by the 1930s, this may be partly because of a national shift of outlook. But from 1934 until 1939 the editor was Malcolm MacColl, who had previously been assistant editor, and who probably wrote a column throughout the Second World War. And Malcolm MacColl was an unusual person. Of a Lismore family later moved to Loch Creran, he is said to have spent most of the First World War years in County Wexford, and to have edited a paper for Sinn Fein after 1918, though this cannot be confirmed by Irish historians. He then moved to Glasgow where he stood for public office on behalf of the Independent Labour Party, and worked in Laurie's, the highland dress shop. Coming under the influence of Canon John McBain of Christ Church, the Christian socialist and Labour councillor, he was ordained in 1923. He began as one of McBain's curates, later having charge of St.Paul's, Parkhead, where it is said that there was no service one Sunday as the Special Branch had "lifted" him on Saturday night. There followed periods in the Church of England, and a curacy at St.Paul's, Dundee, from 1932, where he combined his assistant editorship of the Scottish Guardian with work as supernumerary priest for the diocese. From 1936 until 1940 he was rector of St.Mary Magdalene's, Dundee, and it is said that in that last year he disappeared completely. The assumption is that with a panicky government interning absolutely everyone, MacColl took refuge in Ireland until he saw how the land lay. Once he could safely return he did so, and from 1941 until his death in 1946 was rector of St.John's, Ballachulish, while the Scottish Guardian was edited by the Rev. R. Henderson-Howat of St.Margaret's, Lochee, in Dundee. (1)

Yet this Malcolm MacColl must be distinguished from two others of the same name in the Diocese of Glasgow. The first was the son of a Glenfinnen farmer, who studied at Glenalmond and, oddly, Naples, had charge of the church at Castle Douglas, and then devoted himself to writing countless books on countless subjects, being an ardent supporter of Gladstone, who procured for him a canonry at Ripon in 1884. And, as the Encyclopaedia Britannica noted, "his combative personality was constantly to the fore". As for the third Malcolm MacColl, he was a mission priest laying the groundwork for what became St.Ninian's, on the Glasgow South Side, and, after wilderness years in England, he built St.Columba's, Clydebank. (2)

To return to the editorial MacColl, there was a complete reversal of the earlier attitude to the Jews. They were no longer a threat, but the subject of concern after Hitler's persecutions began. In this the Scottish Guardian was somewhat ahead of British opinion as a whole, but the casual anti-Semitism of earlier days was becoming less respectable throughout the country. And a note of moral concern was being expressed in the "Notes and Comments" column, which note continued until the death of MacColl, after which the tone of the journal reverted to criticisms of the working class and the Labour government, though never with the violence of the 1920s. That "Notes and Comments" were written by MacColl cannot be proved, but it seems probable. And the use of that column was skilful.

It was achieved by noting, for instance, that Tobruk had been captured, that Tobruk had been lost, that Tobruk had been re-captured, and so forth. But after these apparently harmless beginnings, there would be comments on moral issues. And anyone who read the Scottish Guardian would be told that certain aspects of the war effort were contrary to Christian morality. Of course this had to be done carefully, so that noone might object to a casual mention of area bombing in one issue, and few would notice that area bombing was mentioned in half a dozen issues with a cumulative effect. And after each question raising doubts there was a final sentence saying that, after all, the government probably knew best, or the Germans had brought it upon themselves. This would not convince everyone, and was probably not meant to convince anyone, but it would satisfy the internal censors of the church who might have reacted violently if moral doubts had not been followed by patriotic statements. Government censors may also have been in the writer's mind, though in fact these were probably too busy to attend to church papers.

To begin with area bombing, as early as 1941 it was noted that despite claims that the targets were military, "women and children have been killed, churches and hospitals destroyed in Germany". In February 1942 doubts were expressed as to whether the bombing campaign had any military effect. After the war it was generally agreed that it had not. In June 1942 it was said flatly that "war from the air is horrible", while "even the most unsentimental of us cannot but think of the citizens of Germany who are now suffering what their inhuman rulers have brought upon them". Then came the qualifying clause, quoting Herbert Morrison who suggested that the German people should end the bombing by getting rid of Hitler, as if this were a practical proposition. By 1944 Bishop Bell of Chichester, and the former Archbishop Lang, were speaking out against bombing policy, and the Guardian sympathised but said that carrying the war into the enemy's territory came first. "Just the same, it is a pitiless business." Later it was suggested that for every person killed on the ground an airman of Bomber Command died; in fact the ratio was six to one, with 600,000 Germans being killed while 100,000 allied aircrew died. But from the standpoint of resources, the German casualties were mainly civilians, while the aircrew were expensively trained young men. (3)

On the Soviet Union,there was the same tactic of sowing doubts and then making soothing noises. As early as April 1941 the Guardian was hinting at a German invasion of Russia, and after that occurred and Britain offered support, it was argued that Soviet persecution of the churches had not been all that bad. Of course it was not popular to remind people of it at all. In 1943 fears of Communism being imposed abroad were rejected, "We need not fear that ...... Russia's earlier social experiments will be tried out again in the same form." Yet there were doubts about Poland, and it was almost openly stated that the Soviets had murdered the 4,000 Polish officers found buried in the Katyn Forest. By 1944, when the Soviets demanded that Poland cede almost half her territory, the response was that, "As the fate of Poland depends now to such an extent on Russia, it may seem that Russia has made a generous offer". But with the end of the war and a puppet regime in Warsaw, there was sympathy for the 60,000 Polish troops under British control who were understandably fearful of returning and were felt to be "overstaying" their welcome. The government urged them to go, but in the end they were allowed to stay. (4)

There was never any doubt about what went on in Nazi concentration camps. By 1942 it was stated that Jewish men, women, and children were being electrocuted or gassed. In 1943 the English and Welsh archbishops were quoted to the effect that six million Jews were being murdered, and the archbishops were asking for refuge for those who could escape. At the time it was not popular to emphasise Jewish sufferings, partly because they were seen as a distraction from the war effort, and partly because campaigning for the Jews would seem to confirm the Nazi argument that Britain was fighting on behalf of the Jews. But there were other unpopular subjects - - Bishop Eric Graham of Brechin spoke out after the war on the 400,000 German prisoners kept in Britain "with no moral justification whatever. They are not war criminals, they are war unfortunates... They are kept because we find their labour extremely convenient...". This statement brought down on Graham the wrath of farmers' representatives, and of the public at large. Again, there was unease at the forced march of twenty million Germans from lands ceded to Russia or Poland, leading to two million deaths, but that was not seen as a matter on which Britain had much influence. And there was immediate horror at the dropping of the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima. It was understood that one use of atomic energy might lead to "the self-annihilation of mankind", though somewhat optimistically it was held that another use might bring benefits and "change the whole earthly outlook of the human race." If there were occasional outbursts of prejudice, such as one against conscientious objectors as "effeminate", the general picture is of a church which was made aware of moral issues and given an opportunity to be less prejudiced than the general public. (5)

But in looking at world events, one thing was overlooked, and that was the decline of Britain. And this decline was in world affairs, and in comparison with other nations; it is hard to deny that in most ways the quality of life improved after 1945 and Britain became a happier nation. But decline in world terms was vitally important to the Episcopal Church. As long as Britain was a world power centred on London, Anglican churches throughout the world could reasonably show a degree of Englishness and have Englishmen as bishops. That being the case, the Scottish Episcopal Church was not alone in being, in some sense, an "English Church". But once Britain was no longer a world centre, an Anglican Communion centred on England was at odds with reality and bound to develop into a loose federation. This was to create a good deal of hand-wringing in some parts of the Church of England, where hand-wringing has been raised to a fine art. Yet it did not really hurt the Church of England, which has always been more robust and adaptable than its critics would admit.

But it did have consequences for the Scottish Episcopal Church. The dependence of Scottish Episcopalians on the Church of England now seemed to be the relic of another age. Furthermore, it no longer seemed natural to Church of England people that they should have a dependency north of the border, and they expected it to spin itself off or join in a union, the analogy with the colonies being real if unconscious. Yet union was not a practical proposition for Episcopalians negotiating from a position of extreme weakness, while many in the Church of Scotland did not want them at any price. Local Ecumenical Projects in areas where the Church of Scotland could do a better job on its own, while Episcopalians and other small denominations could only exist under the umbrella of the national church, have led to mixed reactions amongst Church of Scotland people. The Episcopalians did pay a theological price to crouch under the umbrella, but that did not always impress the critics.

On the other hand, Presbyterian opposition to the Church of England has always been ambivalent. They may not want it in Scotland, but they rather like it in England. If many, perhaps most, English migrants to Scotland find their way into the Church of Scotland rather than the Episcopal Church, for whatever reasons, the vast majority of churchgoing Scottish migrants to England do their churchgoing in Church of England churches, and are reasonably happy about it. In some places the whole life of the church would collapse without them. But if they return to Scotland, they usually become Church of Scotland again, though nostalgic for liturgical worship. Hostility to Episcopalians has little to do with liturgy and little to do with bishops; it is a matter of Scotland being Scottish, and a matter of social class. The rest is not negligible, but it is capable of settlement.

But there is another new factor to be considered. It had been the belief of Anglicans that they were a bridge, the only bridge, between Catholicism and Protestantism, and that sooner or later everybody must come to them, preferably with cap in hand. But after the Second Vatican Council, Rome was dealing as directly with Wittenburg and Geneva as with Canterbury. Perhaps more readily, for they were the "real thing", and Canterbury could be left until later. In fact, it has even been suggested that for Anglicans the road to Rome leads through Saxony.

From both these factors, and perhaps from others, there has been a shift in the self-image of Episcopalians. And yet their prospect may be brighter than it was. First they were unpopular for their devotion to the Stuarts and thus to French interests, and then unpopular for their devotion to English interests. But once England can be considered to be just another country in Europe, England is no longer a threat. And the Scottish Episcopal Church is losing its English tinge as there is no longer the industry to draw English craftsmen north, and even the English class system has begun to change, though it is not always appropriate to point this out. The Scottish Episcopal Church will have lost a lot of its liabilities, and will change, as it has changed so often in the past. It should be interesting when it happens.