The Press

My bold plan for cathedral funding

- Andrew Gunn Christchur­ch-based writer for films, TV and books and has a Substack column. Read more from Andrew Gunn atandrewgu­nn.substack.com

‘Run the straight race through God’s good grace,’’ the hymn tells us. And certainly in the local cathedral stakes it is the Catholics who seem to be cantering towards the distant finish line.

Meanwhile, recent developmen­ts see the Anglicans under an injury cloud and needing the tenacity of a Lazarus* to rise to the occasion. (* Glenn Lazarus, Australia, NSW and 22-time State of Origin prop and NRL Hall-of-Famer)

Unsurprisi­ngly it all comes down to money, for times are tighter than a camel stuck in a needle. Allow me, then, to present my bold plan to get Christ Church Cathedral Back on Track.

Hear me out: It’s time the Anglican Church got into the business of selling indulgence­s. First, a brief explainer. You’re in good hands here because I’ve watched several History Channel documentar­ies – enough to know that the root causes of the great schism between the Catholic branch of Western Christiani­ty and the rest numbered roughly two.

On the one hand, in the sceptred isle of England it was essentiall­y all down to Henry VIII not being able to keep it in his codpiece. Hence the tradition I was brought up with: Anglicanis­m.

(In an fascinatin­g counter-factual, had Henry held his manhood close and not gone off embroilin’ with the Boleyn, we may well have not found ourselves here in Ōtautahi 13 years after the earthquake­s still with two separate and far-fromcomple­te cathedrals. But I digress.)

Meanwhile, in 16th century Europe, on the mainland Martin Luther had a dream (not that one) about reforming the Catholic Church by stripping it back to basics. Luther wanted to Marie Kondo the whole spiritual experience, and one of the things that did not give him joy – and that hence he wanted to biff – was the selling of indulgence­s.

Now here is how indulgence­s worked. According to the prevailing doctrine, souls after death passed through the Great Sorting Gate and thence either went straight to hell or ascended heavenward­s. The latter route was usually not a non-stop flight; there was an enforced stopover at a place called purgatory. Think of purgatory as being cooped up air-side at LAX while your connecting flight to Paris is reschedule­d.

Naturally those who hoped they were pearly-gates bound also hoped that their time in purgatory would be as short as possible. And so the Catholic Church, cannily anticipati­ng the theory of supply and demand, instituted a rewards scheme. It called it the sale of indulgence­s. You paid money and as a reward you spent less time in purgatory.

I make no judgment about the wisdom of parting with cold hard cash for some ethereal future benefit.

After all, I pay a monthly gym membership, and how’s that working out? Answer: not working out at all. But someone who was quite judgy about selling indulgence­s (for several reasons, which he ended up nailing to the door of a church but which you can find on Wikipedia) was Martin Luther.

For his troubles Luther was then excommunic­ated from the church at a big get-together called the Diet of Worms (which sounds like a TikTok trend). Excommunic­ation, the 16th century equivalent of being cancelled by the mainstream media, was certainly not a fate I would wish on anyone. But I can’t help think that perhaps Luther was looking at the whole indulgence­s issue from a chalice-half-empty perspectiv­e.

Because – as above – are there any losers in this scenario? The indulgence­payer clearly has the funds to spare and is happy to hand them over. They then feel the fuzzy warm glow of expedited transcende­nce.

As to said indulgence-payer’s actual fate upon their corporeal expiry, that remains firmly in the hands of the Almighty, who surely can’t be bound by earthly contracts. Which takes care of any questions of fairness.

So far so good – and that only leaves what the church wants to do with the cash. And, sure, if it goes to fund something dodgy (like a crusade) or unexpected (like the Spanish Inquisitio­n) that would raise eyebrows. But I’m talking about the Anglican Church in 2024, who are pretty much a bunch of basically nice folk* who would use it to build a nice building. (*other religions comprised of basically nice folk are also available)

What I’m suggesting is that this bold new approach could be Christ Church Cathedral’s fundraisin­g tipping point. There are plenty of potential high-worth donors out there, but what’s going to get them over the line – their name on a plaque or a FastPass to eternal salvation?

We’re only human – I think we all know the answer here. Of course there are minor details to be ironed out. I’m not sure purgatory was ever technicall­y part of Anglican doctrine, but it’s never a good idea to let your dogma get in the way of your karma. And I imagine private donations will end up being the way this will have to be funded.

So the church is welcome to take this idea and run with it. If it does I will expect no percentage cut. All I ask is that when the cathedral is finally completed I get a go at ringing the bells. I have a hunch I’d like that.

 ?? CHRIS SKELTON/THE PRESS ?? The Anglican diocese is welcome to take Andrew Gunn’s fundraisin­g ideas if it lets him have a go at ringing the bells when the cathedral is rebuilt.
CHRIS SKELTON/THE PRESS The Anglican diocese is welcome to take Andrew Gunn’s fundraisin­g ideas if it lets him have a go at ringing the bells when the cathedral is rebuilt.

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