I came across this quote from John Chrysostom(347-407) which I thought I would share. This is a voice of the past but sadly resonates with much of the contemporary Anglican church.
You have often been present at the burning of large houses. You have noticed how the smoke keeps rising to the sky. If no one comes near to put a stop to the mischief, but every one keeps looking to himself, the flame spreads freely on, and devours everything. It may happen that the whole city will stand around; they will stand around merely as spectators of the evil, not to aid nor assist. And there you may see them one and all standing round, and doing nothing, with various individuals stretching out their hands, and pointing out to some one who may have just arrived, either a flaming brand that moment flying through a window, or beams hurled down, or a whole exterior wall forced to fall outward, and tumbling violently to the ground.
And there may be some around who are more daring and venture-some, who will have the boldness even to come close to the very buildings themselves while they are burning, not in order to lift a finger to help them or to put a stop to the mischief, but that they may the more fully enjoy the sight, being able from the nearer place to observe closely all that which often escapes those standing at a distance. If the house should happen to be large and magnificent, it appears to them a pitiable spectacle, and deserving of many tears. And truly there is a pitiable spectacle for us to behold—capitals of columns crumbling to dust, and many columns themselves shattering to pieces, some consumed by the fire, others thrown down often by the very hands that erected them, that they may not add fuel to the flame. Statues which stood with so much gracefulness with ceilings resting on them now stand exposed, with the roof torn off, standing hideously disfigured in the open air. And why should one go on to describe the wealth stored up in the house—the gold interlaid fabrics, the vessels of silver? What has now become of the storehouse of fabrics and perfumes, and the caskets of the costly jewels stored in a room the owners seldom visited? It has all become one blazing fire. Now coming in and out of the house are persons coming from their baths, cleaning persons, servants and many others. The whole house is one muddle of fire and water, mud and dust, and half-burnt beams!
Now why have I drawn out so full a picture as this? Not simply because I wish to picture the conflagration of a house, for that is no essential concern of mine. Rather I wish to set before your eyes, as vividly as I can, the calamities of the Church. For like a conflagration indeed, as if from a thunderbolt hurled from on high, a fire is blazing in the roof of the Church. Yet no one seems roused up by it yet. Meanwhile our Father’s house is burning, and we have remained asleep.…
Upon awakenening we stand gazing in amazement at the flames, but no longer able to quench the evil, or if we do quench it for a while, after a short time a spark is rekindled from a heap of ashes and begins consuming everything just as before. So it is now occurring with the Church, just what happens during a conflagration. It has already devoured the supports of the very pillars of the Church. Even the most faithful who had been supporting the roof, and who formerly held the whole building together it has enveloped in the flame. So the fire moved easily to the rest of the outer walls. Just as in the case of buildings, when the fire penetrates the timbers, it is better armed for its attack upon the stones, and when it has brought down the pillars and leveled them with the ground, little more is needed to consume everything else in flames. For when the props and supports of the upper parts fall down, the rest will speedily follow.
This is just where we are today in the life of the church: the fire has penetrated into every part.… We are no longer able to counsel those who are under our guidance, because we ourselves also are possessed with the same fever as they. We who are appointed by God to heal others, need the physician ourselves. What further hope of recovery is there left, when even the very physicians themselves need the healing hand of others?
(John Chrysostom, Homilies on Ephesians, Hom. X, NPNF 1, XIII, pp. 100–101)