Faith is left, right. . . and central

There was, of course, something very special about the House of Commons debate on Syria earlier this month. The moral challenge of how to face those who embrace evil without limits, the long shadows and sombre memories generated by military actions past, the divisions within parties and between friends, the wrestling with conscience that brought good men and women close to tears. The importance of what the House of Commons was being asked to authorise inspired outstanding speeches, most notably of all, Hilary Benn’s.

While I was listening to the shadow foreign secretary, I noticed a hunched figure in the gallery also held spellbound by the speech, his head occasionally nodding in silent and respectful appreciation.

The attentive listener had, himself, spoken earlier in the day. On the same question. Not in the Commons but in the Lords. Where he had explained, with great lucidity and authority, that Islamic State would not be defeated by military action alone. The temptations of religious and political extremism also needed to be countered with a more robust ideological response, and supporters of Islamist extremism, in particular in states such as Qatar and Saudi Arabia, had to be confronted.

That speech, just four minutes long, was remarkable for its intellectual depth and courage. What might seem more remarkable, to some, is that it was given from the bench of bishops. The Church of England — for so long caricatured as morally relativist, ethically vague, painfully politically correct and timorously unassertive — has found a new, clear, strong and resonant voice. And to the church’s great benefit, that voice belongs to the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Justin Welby may not appear, at first acquaintance, to be your archetypal Christian soldier. Slightly built, bespectacled and balding, he looks far more like a gentle clerk in holy orders than a turbulent priest.