What’s the point of a minster?

The Philip Larkin Society has sponsored a pew in the huge medieval church of Holy Trinity, Hull. Larkin died 40 years ago and in 2017 the church was given the title Hull Minster. Eighteen churches have acquired the honorific minster since 1994. Most are historic civic piles: King’s Lynn and Rotherham, Doncaster and Leeds.

The title has no legal force. As far as etymology goes, minster comes from the Latin monasterium, which had already in the 8th century acquired the meaning ‘cathedral church’ in addition to ‘monastery’. Before the Norman Conquest, minster in English had come to mean a large, important church. Before the recent efflorescence, we had a hotchpotch of them: Southwell, a collegiate church and not a cathedral until 1884; Wimborne, an abbey before 1043; lovely Beverley, whose west towers inspired Hawksmoor’s at Westminster.

But tares have been sown among the minsters. The diocese of Leicester decided in 2021 to construct a framework of Minster Communities whose ‘collectively discerned strategic priorities are New Communities, Intergenerational Communities, Reconciling Communities [the focus of which includes Identity & Sexuality, Women’s Ministry and a Racial Equity Strategy], Intercultural Communities, Eco-Communities’. ‘No church can be forced to join a Minster Community, but… a refusal to participate will mean a reduced level of resource being available’. You can imagine. No more flower rotas, no more parsons, no more spire restoration fund, no more harvest festival, but a war of everyone against everyone, the victors claiming to be ‘Shaped By God Together’. Control of safeguarding, HR and finance will remain central. About 20 will be formed by the end of next year. By then, in Leicester diocese at least, minster will no longer mean something historic and civic but a Year Zero crucible.