The Archbishop of Canterbury should take note of the Queen's 'never complain, never explain' motto - Sarah Todd

There is no point pretending to having been more of a churchgoer than high days and holidays, but still it felt wrong to have made no effort whatsoever to cross over the threshold into the church.

Prior to the pandemic the whole family would have been given a rocket to get themselves smartened up and attend a service over Easter. If we missed the one at the village church, we’d have ventured over to a neighbouring one.

From being very young, the children knew that if they didn’t put on a smile and some smarter clothes there would be no chocolate eggs. Same went for The Husband.

What’s happened? It was the same at Christmas. We should have gone to church.

It felt wrong eating the turkey and opening presents without having put in an appearance.

Thinking aloud, it could just be laziness.

Perhaps going to church was a routine at certain key times of the year and since Covid-19 came on the scene we’ve simply got out of the habit?

It’s probably not as cut and dried as that, though.

There is some nagging doubt in this parishioner’s mind as to whether the church did as much as it could have done during the pandemic.

Before readers start writing in, there are doubtless many examples of vicars helping those in need during those long, lonely lockdown months.

But from a purely personal point of view, the withdrawal of the church as Covid-19 tightened its grip was more noticeable than its presence.

There are similarities with the church’s response – or lack of it – to the Ukraine war.

So many wonderful people are organising collections and making deliveries of much-needed medical and other supplies. In our local paper there doesn’t seem to have been a dog collar among them.

Perhaps the world has evolved and people just get on with things nowadays, without the need for any kind of lead from the religious community.

When the war had just started, it felt right to walk into church and say a quiet prayer for Volodymyr Zelensky, the Ukrainian president, and his people.

I’m not sure what good that will do against the likes of Russia’s President Putin, but it maybe illustrates that in times of turmoil there is a basic human need to turn towards something. On

Mothering Sunday a walk took us past a country church – en route with The Daughter for an al fresco glass of wine at a pub – and we would have popped in to make a quick nod to him upstairs.

Sadly, the church door was locked. The padlock somehow symbolic of the barrier that seems to have built up.

Great leaders, such as the Queen, never comment on politics. In fact, it would be wise for the Church to take heed of the Royal family’s ‘never complain, never explain’ motto.

A good starting point would be if, right at the very top, the current Archbishop of Canterbury started following in Her Majesty’s sensibly-shod footsteps.

It’s hard to explain, but for some reason it just doesn’t sit right the way Justin Welby stands at the pulpit giving his opinion on the politics of the day.

Of course, there can be no doubt that his heart is in the right place and his intentions good, but whenever the Archbishop speaks out it gets this lapsed member of the flock’s back up.

Instead of inspiring, his tone seems superior and moralising; maybe even a bit depressing.

Yes, definitely something of the glass is half-empty about him. Such a stark contrast, personality wise, to the glass- is-half-full addresses of the charismatic former Archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu.

How joyous, after all the sacrifice and loss of the pandemic, for people to gather together for Easter for the first time in two years with no restrictions. Families reunited.

The cheerfulness of the spring flowers representing renewal and new life. My goodness how uplifting and celebratory the Archbishop’s Easter address could have been.

Instead he used the opportunity it presented to declare that the Government’s controversial scheme to send asylum seekers on a one-way trip to Rwanda would not ‘stand up to God’s judgment’. Angry and judgmental; it was a lost opportunity to thank the many hard-working everyday people who have put others first.

To take down those padlocks of the pandemic and declare clergy countrywide open for business. To fling the doors open on a new post-pandemic era for the Church.

A missed public relations opportunity if ever there was one.

Now there are calls for the Prime Minister to apologise for allegedly criticising the Archbishop’s decision to speak out.

Sources close to Boris Johnson say he accused the senior clergyman of being ‘less vociferous’ in his condemnation of the Russian president than he was in his attack on the asylum policy.

While there has undoubtedly been plenty for our premier to apologise for, he does right not to kowtow to the Archbishop.

Surely a much more positive way forward would be for the head of the Church of England to engage and encourage rather than simply criticise. Has he put forward a workable solution to deal with the asylum seekers who continue to put their lives – and those of others – in danger by crossing to our shores (putting money into the hands of criminal gangs in the process)?

Whether or not this writer’s ample backside gets itself back in a pew anytime soon isn’t important.

The way the Church moves forward post-pandemic is.