Anarchierkegaard delivers a startlingly direct diagnosis of institutional failure, arguing that the only authentic response to the Church of England's serial abuse scandal is not defense, but a radical, collective confession that exposes the institution's own sores. While most commentary stops at demanding accountability from leadership, this piece insists that the entire community must embrace its status as a body of sinners to find a path toward genuine healing. This is not a theological abstraction; it is a practical roadmap for how a faith community survives its own worst crimes.
The Necessity of Brokenness
The author begins by dismantling the idea that Christian conviction relies on abstract proof or scholastic perfection. Instead, Anarchierkegaard writes, "the intelligibility and truthfulness of Christian convictions reside in their practical force." This reframing is crucial: it moves the conversation from whether the Church is right in theory to whether it is alive in practice. The piece argues that the self is inherently imperfect, noting that "no human body is perfect, so no self is perfect," and that this structural flaw is where individuals often recoil from responsibility.
This is a powerful lens for viewing the recent revelations about John Smyth, the serial abuser whose actions were enabled by the Church of England. Rather than treating the abuse as an anomaly that proves the system works, Anarchierkegaard suggests the scandal reveals a "necessity" in the human condition. The author writes, "the failure... makes him recoil," describing how people instinctively hide from the uncomfortable reality of their own limitations. By applying this to the institutional level, the commentary forces a difficult question: does the Church hide its failures to protect its image, or does it face them to protect its soul?
Critics might argue that this focus on internal sinfulness risks letting specific perpetrators off the hook by framing abuse as a universal human failing rather than a criminal act. However, the author is careful to distinguish between the individual criminal and the collective responsibility to respond. The piece insists that the church must not become "complicit in the abuse" but must instead recognize its "position of responsibility."
"The believers, not tainted by the sin of sexually abusing the other, become like lambs before the face of 'the world'."
The Alternative to the Crowd
and "engagement," a dynamic that desensitizes the public to real horror. In contrast, the author argues the church has a unique role: to be an "alternative" that "freely admits and freely tends to the hurt and oppressed." This admission is not driven by guilt or the fear of legal repercussions, but by what the author calls the "freedom of neighbour-love."
This distinction is vital. The author notes that the world operates in a "state of exception" where actions are neither fully determined nor random, yet the Church often retreats into "quietism" to avoid the discomfort of admitting failure. Anarchierkegaard writes, "Instead of admitting failure as a collective... we may find it appropriate to offer excuses, to hold up the ideal as if it were our reality." The piece challenges the reader to see that true strength lies in the "simple admission of the simple equality of all humans in their humanity."
The argument here is that the Church's power comes from its willingness to be vulnerable. As Anarchierkegaard puts it, "the church emerges as an alternative to the world—not in purity, not in sanctimoniousness, but in the simple admission of the simple equality of all humans." This is a bold claim for an institution that has spent centuries projecting an image of moral superiority. It suggests that the only way to restore trust is to stop pretending to be perfect.
The Charge of Confession
The final section of the piece confronts the "unpleasant experience" of true belief. Anarchierkegaard argues that the Church of England failed because it treated victims as "objectivised matter" and allowed the abuser to "haunt the visible church through his impropriety" without addressing the root rot. The solution proposed is a "collective practice of the pilgrims who fail to replicate the example that Christ left us."
The author writes, "confession moves from the act of den Enkelte and becomes the collective practice... in recognising the neighbour qua abuser, victim, and the shaken bones of the congregation." This is the most demanding part of the argument: it requires the community to look at its own brokenness without flinching. The piece concludes with a call to "open up the sores in our midst first," suggesting that only by breathing in the pain of the scandal can the Church eventually "breathe out" and offer genuine comfort.
"Only then can the church offer a particularly Christian response that offers itself as lamb to the victim, the hurt, in their victimhood and their pain."
Bottom Line
Anarchierkegaard's strongest move is reframing institutional confession not as a legal liability but as the only path to spiritual survival, cutting through the noise of public relations with a demand for radical honesty. The argument's biggest vulnerability is its reliance on a theological ideal that may feel impossible to implement in a bureaucratic, risk-averse institution, yet it remains a necessary standard for any community claiming to follow a suffering savior. The piece demands that we stop watching the scandal as entertainment and start treating it as a mirror.