Just last month, in a powerful address to Britain’s House of Lords, Sarah Mullally, the newly appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, drew upon her personal journey as a former nurse to passionately oppose legislation on medically assisted dying for terminally ill patients. She shared that she’d had ‘the privilege to be with many people as they die,’ lending a profound, empathetic weight to her argument.
While that speech may have gone largely unnoticed then, it offers a fascinating insight into how the 63-year-old Archbishop-designate Mullally intends to lead one of the world’s most ancient and intricate religious institutions. As the 106th Archbishop—and notably, the first woman to hold this esteemed position—she now serves as the highest-ranking cleric in the Church of England and the spiritual guide for 85 million Anglicans across the globe.
Church observers, however, widely anticipate that at her core, she will be a pastoral leader, deeply committed to the care and nurture of her vast congregation.
“Washing feet has shaped my Christian vocation as a nurse, then a priest, then a bishop,” Archbishop-designate Mullally declared in Canterbury Cathedral on Friday, just moments after her historic appointment was made public.
Her voice, though gentle, resonated with profound meaning through the vast, echoing nave of the cathedral as she articulated her vision: “In the apparent chaos which surrounds us, in the midst of such profound global uncertainty, the possibility of healing lies in acts of kindness and love.”
Much like her predecessor, Justin Welby, Archbishop-designate Mullally pursued a distinguished career outside the church before her ascent. Beyond her work as a nurse specializing in cancer care, she served as an administrator within the National Health Service and, remarkably, became England’s youngest-ever chief nursing officer.
Archbishop Welby, for instance, spent years as a finance executive for a French oil company before entering the ministry. His leadership style often mirrored his corporate past, involving extensive travel and a cosmopolitan demeanor that sometimes made him appear more diplomat than cleric.
In contrast, Archbishop-designate Mullally presents a more humble and grounded image. Her recent address, with its emphasis on ‘washing feet,’ evoked the humility often associated with Pope Francis. She has openly discussed her dyslexia, a challenge that affects her reading and writing. However, while her background in nursing suggests a focus on direct care, this should not be mistaken for a lack of ambition or a desire to remain on the sidelines of crucial British affairs.
Indeed, in her previous role as Bishop of London, she consistently positioned herself at the heart of the church’s most contentious debates. She led a working group on same-sex marriage, proposing guidelines that would allow priests to bless such couples, even as the church refrained from full official recognition.
Mullally has also been outspoken regarding the church’s painful failures in protecting young people, a scandal that ultimately contributed to Archbishop Welby’s resignation after a report revealed his inadequate handling of historical abuse allegations against boys and young men at Christian summer camps.
Her opposition to the assisted dying legislation stems from a deep concern for society’s most vulnerable. She cautioned that individuals with complex medical conditions might feel coerced into ending their lives prematurely, especially if it meant alleviating their families’ financial burdens.
“If passed,” she firmly stated, “the bill will signal that we are a society that believes that some lives are not worth living.”
Archbishop-designate Mullally stressed the critical need for the National Health Service to offer robust palliative care and hospice services. She warned that transforming hospitals into facilities for assisted dying could lead to unforeseen and damaging consequences, advocating instead for the sanctity of life, rooted in her faith.
Reflecting on her diverse roles, she reiterated, “As a nurse, a priest, a daughter and a granddaughter, I have had the privilege to be with many people as they die. I have known people to experience some of the most valuable days of their life as it comes to an end, including those with terminal illnesses.”
“Much of the debate is about fear,” she observed, emphasizing that “life is not something to be managed or limited when it becomes difficult.”
Despite her strong objections, this bill, currently under deliberation, is likely to become law. While the House of Lords, Parliament’s unelected upper chamber, can amend legislation from the House of Commons, it rarely blocks a bill that has already passed the lower house.
Nevertheless, Archbishop-designate Mullally’s willingness to speak out signals her unwavering resolve, especially given that her predecessor faced criticism from politicians for similar interventions. Some critics even view the automatic inclusion of bishops in the House of Lords as an outdated and undemocratic practice.
More than anything, time itself might be the primary constraint on Archbishop-designate Mullally’s ambitious agenda. At 64 upon her formal installation next year, she will serve for just six years before reaching the mandatory retirement age of 70.
“In one sense, it’s a short-term appointment,” remarked Andrew Atherstone, an Oxford University professor specializing in modern Anglicanism. He contrasted her tenure with that of Justin Welby, who, appointed at 57, had 13 years—ample time, Atherstone noted, for ‘epoch-changing decisions.’
Indeed, a significant legacy of Archbishop Welby’s tenure was the contentious but ultimately successful overhaul in 2014 that permitted women to become bishops. This pivotal reform directly paved the way for Bishop Mullally’s historic appointment.
However, Welby did not succeed in resolving other major disputes, particularly surrounding same-sex marriage. The protracted internal discussions he oversaw alienated both conservative and reformist factions. While Archbishop-designate Mullally has advocated for more inclusive language, Professor Atherstone believes she will likely uphold the church’s current stance on the issue, which she publicly supports.
A notable shift in her leadership might be seen in her approach to the Anglican Communion—a sprawling network of churches across the United States, Latin America, Asia, and Africa, where many bishops hold views diverging from those in the Church of England. Archbishop Welby dedicated considerable effort to fostering greater unity within this global communion.
“My one reservation about Justin Welby was that he seemed to want to create a mini-papacy,” observed Diarmaid MacCulloch, an esteemed ecclesiastical historian and Church of England expert at Oxford. He added critically, “You can’t do that now. You cannot dictate the range of opinions in the Anglican Communion.”
During her Friday speech, Archbishop-designate Mullally recalled attending Anglican services in Brazil, Canada, and Barbados, noting how effortlessly she could follow the liturgy in each nation. Yet, she expressed no grand aspirations to enforce strict doctrinal consistency across these diverse churches.
She concluded with a poignant reflection: “In an age that craves certainty and tribalism, Anglicanism offers something quieter but stronger: shared history, held in tension, shaped by prayer and lit from within by the glory of Christ.”