"The boat is in rocky, choppy waters; don't jump out of the boat and swim to the right," he said. "Stick with it. We're going towards Lambeth." Thus the Bishop of Durham to the growing number of schismatics threatening to cut ties with the Temple of Sodom, aka the Anglican/Episcopal Church. In fact, Reverend, the boat has a hole in it bigger than a fisted fanny. This attempt to talk away matters of fundamental division in their ranks has been signature stuff to the Anglicans from the choppy beginning of their rocky "communion." Ever since the king of all choppers, Henry Vlll declared that he wasn't really married to his faithful wife of twenty years, Catherine of Aragon, and betook himself and his country off the rock of St. Peter and onto the ever-changing tide of protestantism, Anglicanism, that "cold superstition," as a Frenchman once described it, has relied more on linguistic conformity than unity of conscience to maintain itself. In the end, however, reality overrules rhetoric. There's obvious irony in the fact that a church originating out of a king's illicit lust should eventually find its destruction in the libido of its own priests.
Of course, Henry could and did enforce his fictions with all the coercive engines of the state. But the poor relic of the church he founded has today only one engine of suasion at its service, the human conscience. This, alas, is proving more intractable than any sixteenth century pope.tbc.