It was not, perhaps, what the archbishop of Canterbury had in mind when he implored the Church of England not to be consumed by its own inner workings.
The issue of what bishops wear on their heads briefly took centre stage at the church’s general assembly, or synod, when a vicar from Essex asked for guidance on the donning of mitres. The Rev Canon David Banting was told tartly that it was “entirely a matter of personal discretion”, and the synod agenda swept on.
Pete Broadbent, the bishop of Willesden, who responded to the written question, later acknowledged a fondness for the “tat” among some of his colleagues. “The church attracts folks for whom the tat is something that they revel in, and it becomes very important for them,” he said. “That may go with a penchant towards being more flamboyant in their behaviour in general, shall we say.”
But, he added, there was often a cultural expectation that bishops wore mitres and distinctive robes and carried croziers.
“In a cathedral, you have to look imposing. So you do what bishops do in cathedrals: they look the part, dress up. If you’re in a place which is very multi-cultural ... they would be very surprised not to see a bishop dressed up to the nines and wearing a mitre. So you meet those expectations with people and try to be what they’re looking for without compromising yourself.”
Broadbent – one of the church’s more down-to-earth figures – attended the synod wearing a denim jacket, adorned with a Spurs badge, over his purple bishop’s shirt. A mitre, he said, was not a “comfortable look for most people, though there are some that carry it off beautifully. I’m not one of them.”
As for a crozier, he said: “I tend to travel by public transport and bicycles [so] it’s quite difficult to arrive at a venue carrying a flipping great crozier.”
Bishops’ mitres – decorative pointed hats, which neatly fold when not in use – came back into clerical fashion in the 19th century with the rise of Catholic Anglicanism. Some modernisers in the church view ecclesiastical vestments as alienating to wider society; traditionalists believe they are an important part of ritual and mystery.
Bishops can choose how they dress, but vicars are required under church canon law to “vest”, or wear specific robes such as cassocks and surplices for public services. The legal requirement is under review, and will be discussed next month by the House of Bishops.
“We’re trying to change that ... towards saying that the local parish – in consultation with the bishop, so that they don’t do anything that’s inappropriate – should be able to determine what they do,” said Broadbent.
But, he added: “You wouldn’t want a parish to go completely out to lunch in terms of what they do.” A degree of decorum and cultural sensitivity was needed.
“You have to gauge what’s pastorally appropriate. The criterion always is we don’t want to offend people, we do want to be relevant to people in a helpful way and therefore we dress according to the custom and culture of the place we’re in, and we try to make sure that for those who have expectations [of how a bishop should look] then you look [like] a bishop,” he said.
Expectations were particularly high among congregants from an African background, he said, a legacy from colonial times when ecclesiastical regalia was taken around the world by the church.
He had recently conducted a Nigerian wedding, where many in the congregation were wearing geles, or traditional headdresses, the bishop said.
“I can’t compete with the Nigerian geles, I mean they are amazing,” Broadbent said. Despite wearing his full bishop’s kit, “I was totally underdressed.”