However, we must not make the mistake of assuming that the recent restructuring proposed in the Education Division of the Church of England follows the pattern of public sector cuts in the secular world. Many diocesan youth officers and young people themselves have expressed anger about the slimming down of two seperate roles (National Childrens’ Advisor and National Youth Advisor) into one ‘Going for Growth Officer’.

There are substantial reasons to be frustrated, even angry, about the proposed changes. Indeed, we must press the Education Division for answers on a number of questions. Nevertheless, we must be careful to identify very carefully what our objections are.

Any scrutiny of the proposals must take note of the peculiar timescale of consultation employed, and the disappointing way in which individuals concerned have been treated. The Church should never shy away from difficult HR situations, but should also demonstrate a commitment to taking good care of employees.

Second, the substance of the proposals appears at odds with the expressed commitment of the national church at all levels – to take seriously its role in supporting and nurturing young people. To halve the personnel available for such work appears to send a worrying message that we are merely paying lip service to young people.

I met with Jan Ainsworth (Chief Education Officer for the Church of England) on 17th January, and asked her how she justified reducing the size of her team dedicated to young people and children. Jan explained that she remained committed to youth work, and that the restructuring was aimed at better directing her resources so as to serve young people and children more effectively – the pot of cash available remains the same.

Jan expressed a concern that progress was not being made with the Going for Growth strategy as quickly as she had hoped. She believed that this was because her department lacked specific expertise in certain areas, and that she needed to free up some cash to enable key short-term projects in those areas. In particular, Jan highlighted:

- More muscular engagement with CEYC (Jan has noted the success of the Methodists’ full-time Youth President)

- Meaningful data and statistical research to establish what is happening, and where best to place resources (not sexy, but a valuable part of being able to talk about what we’re doing)

- Supporting and nuturing diocesan projects, to allow them to be rolled out effectively on a larger scale

- Central support for regional youth conferences

The challenge now, for Synod members and others, is to engage with the proposals in as constructive a way as possible.

1. Clearly the restructuring has been dealt with in a clumsy manner – that must be challenged.
2. The proposals appear to indicate a disappointingly loose commitment to young people and children from the Archbishops’ Council, in spite of the  call to arms of Rowan Williams’s New Year message. Again this must be challenged.
3. There may well be a legitimate case for making these changes. If this is so, the case must be made – made publicly, clearly, and in consultation with those most intimately concerned: the young people of the communities we serve.

Synod rolls towards us: let’s make sure we stand our ground – challenging but constructive.

“What kind of society is it that lets down so many of its young people? That doesn’t provide enough good role models and drives youngsters further into unhappiness and anxiety by only showing them suspicion and negativity. When you see the gifts they can offer, the energy that can be released when they feel safe and loved, you see what a tragedy we so often allow to happen.”

A few weeks ago I wrote in the Telegraph about the need for the whole of our society to take responsibility for the development and education of our young people. I note that Dr Williams calls for individuals to take action in their local community, rather than any shift in government policy. I suspect that’s not because he is afraid of making political statements, but because he understands the nature of the challenge.

Working recently as a teacher, I began to understand the way many young people see the world around them. National governmental policies do have a big impact (university fees policy is a clear example), but they are superseded by local and immediate factors: an inspiring teacher in the classroom, for example, can nurture extra-ordinary talent. In the same way, every interaction with adults in society has an impact on young people.

I have an idea that I would love to see come to reality, but wasn’t brave enough to include in my Telegraph article. I would like to see all shop owners and bus drivers receive training on how to get the best out of young people. These are people who have regular, and sometimes difficult engagement with young people. They are, to use an overused phrase, on the frontline for us on this issue.

Some might say that government is in a good position to arrange such training, but wouldn’t it be better if Stagecoach, and the Association of British Newsagent Owners recognised for themselves the impact that they could have. Indeed, what if all of us were to heed Dr William’s thoughts about what kind of society in which we want our young brothers and sisters to grow up?

“James Townsend, Hulme deanery and General Synod. I would like you to support this following motion.

Like a steeple, I believe the church must stand to raise our eyes heavenward. It is for us to show the world the love of christ… not in what we say, but in how we behave. Sometimes that responsibility is difficult. But it is when it is difficult that it is most important.

I believe passionately in women bishops – I rejoice that we have just signalled our support for women in the episcopacy. But many people in this Synod have explained that they cannot accept women as bishops, or the provision made for them as it stands. Their argument has always struck me as weak, tenuous and based on wooly thinking.

But that is where they are, and no matter what I think, if I am to be a model Christian in Society, I must find a way to accommodate their position within mine.

If we cannot support this following motion, what are we to do? Do we turn to those in this synod who have asked today for greater provision? Do we ask them to stand up now, and leave?

I am not prepared to do that.

I’m not sure what I think of a church that would do that.”

The legends of ancient kings and queens often appear to be quite removed from reality. It is tempting to forget that these great stories feature real people – who lived, breathed, blew their noses and didn’t like spinach.   One such figure is King Canute, who was for a time styled “King of all England and Denmark, and of the Norwegians and of some of the Swedes.” Clearly, not a man any history book should pass over without some mention.   What is striking about the legend of this man is that popular culture remembers none of his great achievements, not even an account of the power he held. Instead the story, retold in primary schools and at bedtimes across Europe, is of a man who tried to tell the sea to go back.

The famous account, left to us by the alliteratively named Henry of Huntingdon, tells how Canute stood before the tide and instructed the wave not to wet his feet, nor his cloak. Needless to say, his instruction fell upon deaf ears.   I wonder how many Canutes stood on the coastline of Japan last Friday, faced with a terrifying surge of water, and felt helpless in their pleas for it to turn back.   The Twentieth Century taught us a great deal about man’s awesome power of destruction. But horrified as we may be by the responsibility that comes to us with the invention of nuclear arms, and of all the other modes of worldly vandalism we possess, nothing comes close to the power of the earth itself.   Watching the extraordinary footage of a solid wall of water crashing against Japan’s coastline, never faltering as it sweeps away the towns and villages before it, we are all reminded of our own insignificant place in the universe.   Amongst the carnage of any natural disaster, amongst the grief and heartbreak, the pain and the suffering that is so hard to imagine, it is worth taking time to remember our humility. It is so tempting to see ourselves as masters of the universe, in control of our daily lives, when realistically we are nothing of the sort.   Were the Japanese quake and tsunami to have happened in an obscure part of the third world, we would, regrettably, have been far less aware of its impact. The television networks, twinned with mobile phone footage and social networking have brought into our own lives the moments of terror and panic experienced – when offices, buildings, cars, trees, even the ocean, turned from regular features of ordinary lives, into enemies, threatening life and limb at every turn.   Strangely, though, King Canute would have been familiar with this sensation. He had already learnt the lesson we so often forget about our place in the world. The part of the story often overlooked is that Canute himself knew the sea would not turn back. His whole objective was to demonstrate to his courtiers the weakness of his own powers, compared to those of God.   Perhaps some of today’s political leaders could take a lesson from Canute’s understanding of his own limitations. He was certainly no saint, and I doubt he would have stood much scrutiny from today’s world media. Nevertheless, it seems Colonel Gadaffi could learn much from our legendary tale.   Clearly it is not by accident that Gadaffi has sat firmly in charge of Libya for over forty years. He is a canny, determined and ruthless operator. The wave of unrest which has swept across the Middle East and North Africa, toppling presidents, and unsettling Kings, has faltered in Libya. This guy is a tough nut to crack.   For the first time in this series of revolutions, it appears that a great surge of popular expression may not be enough, on its own, to achieve its will. External assistance may be required.   Here, once again, the dark political cloud of Iraq descends, casting a pall over relations. Where previously the West could have stepped in, intervened in favour of the clear popular will, now we cannot. Hands tied behind our back we must watch, powerless to do more than look stern and speak in serious voices.   As we look on, we pray that the Libyan people will hold their nerve, and that their noble efforts will be successful. If they are, the revolutionaries will be in good company – recent months have shown us the potency of popular, and largely bloodless, uprising, but history provides an even richer seam of example – most vivid, the overthrowing of the communist regime in the Soviet Union. Most fuggy, but nevertheless significant, King Canute’s assumption of the English throne by popular demand, to establish a prosperous, united and happy realm.   So, here’s to King Canute – perhaps an unlikely hero for 2011, but a man who knew his place in the world: familiar with his limitations, but conscious of what he could achieve.   A model for us all.

Using the Written Answer (and a little help from the Synod office), I have put together some charts. By combining the gender data with an age profile, one can see some dramatic differences between the Clergy and the House of Laity. Clearly the Clergy have an age-profile that might be expected of any governing body – late forties through to mid sixties. Clearly if we want to improve the numbers (and representation) of ordinands in their twenties and thirties, this needs to be addressed. A far more pressing issue is the gender imbalance, with only 28% of the convocations being female. Of course, this represents an imbalance in the priesthood generally, but I wonder how we would feel if these figures were replicated in the House of Commons?

The House of Laity clearly has a very different problem. The gender balance is roughly fair, but the age profile is quite disturbing. Again, one might say that CofE congregations tend to follow this pattern, but to do so would be to accept the church as an institution in terminal decline.

The seriousness of the situation is underlined when this profile is compared to a similar chart put together by Peter Owen in 2005. Even though 35% of the Synod are newly elected, the bulk of the membership has simply got older by five years. There is some hope nonetheless – thanks to considerable efforts from a number of individuals (and the Business committee), the numbers under 35 appear to be on the increase.

The first day of Synod-proper was dominated by the visit of Her Majesty The Queen, and everybody got terribly excited about the whole affair. We kicked off with a service in Westminster Abbey (including a procession of borderline-ridiculous length). Then the 600-odd members of Synod and observers scurried over to Church House so that the Queen could deliver a brief speech (it’s all a bit like the State Opening of Parliament).

Even as an ardent monarchist, and lover of all things ceremonial, I started to wonder whether we had overdone it this time. Then it occurred to me that there was something rather important going on.

We are only the 9^th General Synod since the enabling Act of 1969. In ecclesiastical terms, we are very much mere toddlers. And yet the function we serve – to manage the Church of England – is rather an important one, and one that needs to be taken seriously (at least by us, if not by anybody else).

As the Archbishop of Canterbury observed, The Queen was the only person in the room who had been involved with the Synod’s predecessor, the Church Assembly. Through her presence, our Supreme Governor was lending us some authority and ecclesiastical clout.

Earlier I observed that I felt like I was on my first day at a new school, but that doesn’t give an altogether fair picture. The slightly ephemeral worries about falling over, or dropping papers everywhere were quickly dwarfed by the worry about voting the wrong way – as one experienced memberqueen  told me, “voting is the most important thing you do here.”

While we had some interesting discussion about the Big Society, and the Church’s role in it, the only matter of substance for this sitting was the Anglican Covenant.

On first examination, I was quite satisfied that I couldn’t support the covenant for several reasons:

-       It was ‘un-Anglican’;

-       It would be impossible to implement;

-       It would satisfy nobody and frustrate everybody.

Then the Archbishop of Canterbury made all this more difficult for me. In his Presidential Address, he urged the Synod to support the Covenant, effectively saying that he couldn’t do his job without it. Suddenly I was required to choose between voting against my conscience or against a man I trust, respect and depend on.

The debate followed, and was of extra-ordinarily high quality. It was clear that many people felt distinctly uncomfortable about the Covenant. Nevertheless there was a sense that we would have to bite the bullet, and that this was the only solution on the table – there was ‘no alternative’ to use a phrase with eerie significance.

In the end, like the majority of the Synod, I voted to send the Covenant to the dioceses. To a certain extent this kicks the issue into the long grass, as it won’t come back for final approval until 2012 (by which time the whole project may have fallen apart). Equally, it gives members of Diocesan Synods across the Church an opportunity to debate the matter and express their view.

All in all, a very productive few days and a promising start. There was none of the back-biting a petty feudalism I had been led to expect. Instead, a real sense of optimism that, as some tough issues head towards us, we will work together to find the best solution we can.

Soon we will start to see how the Church makes it’s voice heard on the matter of cuts. If Bishop Nigel is anything to go by, it could be an interesting one.

The job is a peculiar one and I can’t think of any parallels. It’s  a little bit like a Student Union President, in that I will be representing the participants on the scheme and implementing a few policies the formed my campaign. In other ways, it is quite different as there is quite a bit external role, representing the charity to sponsors, political folk etc.

I must confess to being a little overwhelmed by the whole thing last night, so have recorded a quick clip to say what I wanted to say but didn’t:

A friend of mine was sitting next to me at a session hosted by Manchester Cathedral recently. We were meeting to explore what form a vibrant Christianity might take in today’s society. Although a remarkbly ‘in touch’ kinda guy, we discovered at the end of the meeting that my friend had been labouring under the assumption that everybody had been to Sunday School as a child…

Sylvia Collins Mayo has just released a book called ‘The Faith of Generation Y’. For those not tempted to part with £14,99 or the several hours involved, a podcast interview can be found here.

In essence, Collins Mayo has found that ‘Generation Y’ have not inherited many of their parents’ attitudes towards God and/or the Church. This means we have no instinctive loyalty to Christianity, but it also means that we are open to the whole idea.

The challenge for the Church is to make Faith and Christianity a relevant concept for the 21st Century. If we are to do this, we must abandon the assumptions of a by-gone era, and open our eyes to the reality before us.