Fold up the steeple fund. Fumigate the rafters. Let bells ring out a significant ecclesiastical victory. The decision by Gordon Brown to raise VAT relief on repairs to churches of historic value to the full 17.5 per cent is a measure for which bishops and church administrators have been lobbying and praying for years. It means that the congregations of listed buildings in urgent need of a new roof or repairs to the stonework can now save a further 5 per cent of the cost and can stretch their meagre budgets further. The Treasury would like to make this refund of the full amount permanent, but until there is agreement with other European Union members the scheme lasts only until 2006.

The irony is, however, that at a time when historic churches are more assured than ever of adequate maintenance, their congregations are dwindling to vanishing point. The Bishop of Manchester, the Right Rev Nigel McCulloch, says that the Established Church is in danger of becoming a minority sect. The latest figures of church attendance confirm the fall in numbers across all denominations and in all parts of Britain. Already there are only 800,000 churchgoers regularly attending Church of England Sunday services — fewer than the number of Muslims attending mosques. In all, the number of church worshippers has fallen more than a million since 1990, to 5.3 million. If the decline continues at this rate, there will be no one left in church by the end of the century.

The churches, alarmed and fearful for their future, have reacted in various, often conflicting, ways. Some enthusiastic evangelicals see this as a chance to break the dominance of the Church as an organisation and concentrate instead on its fellowship. They want to sell empty or redundant buildings and instead preach and practise the gospel in ordinary places of work and daily life. Some big-city churches, especially those ostentatious Victorian buildings that were already too large when they were constructed, have successfully adapted their buildings for other uses, in some cases turning them into restaurants, youth clubs or social centres and keeping only a small part of the building for regular worship. In the country villages, on the other hand, where the bulk of Britain’s smaller and more historic churches are situated, the dilemma is more acute. They are hard to adapt, serve very few people, are of listed historical importance but are often open for worship only on a rota, served by a team ministry.

Some churches have bucked the trend, drawing large congregations either because of their social cachet or in response to evangelical, often charismatic, clergy. But churches on big industrial estates remain almost empty. There is no one answer in a land where religious affiliation is so weak. Part of the problem is the Church’s pre- occupation with dogma and division, at the expense of its moral message; part is because of its incompetence in managing its finances and organising its workforce. The exceptions are the great cathedrals, which are remarkably successful in remaining at the heart of their cities, attracting visitors, worshippers and cash and spreading their influence far beyond their precincts. They should lead the churches’ fight to remain a vibrant part of Britain’s life.