ViaMedia

Year: 2021

  • General Synod: What Would Compromise Look Like?

    by the Revd Neil Patterson, Director of Vocations & Ordinands in the Diocese of Hereford and Vice-Chair of the General Synod Gender & Sexuality Group

    A number of commentators, including Simon Butler, Helen King and Charlie Bell, have taken the polarised membership of the new General Synod as good evidence that only a path of listening and compromise is likely to yield progress in the intractable sexuality debate.  I want to go a little farther, and sketch out one possible line of movement, and comment on how it would represent compromise for both sides.

    You will not be surprised that my starting point is the so-called ‘Hereford Motion,’ passed by our Diocesan Synod in 2017, and parked on the agenda of General Synod, which calls on the Bishops to authorise a form of service for same-sex couples, whilst making it clear it would be wholly optional.  The basic concept had been talked about in all sorts of places, and I am glad to make clear here that it was not my idea to produce a diocesan synod motion (thank you, Kay Garlick, former Chair of the Business Committee!) nor did I propose it (thank you, Matthew Burns, Team Vicar of Leominster!).  But I did produce the wording, so feel a certain responsibility for the motion.

    Why would this be compromise for progressives?  In my experience we have varying approaches to campaigning and may see different points of principle as more critical, but most of us believe in the equality of opposite- and same-sex relationships as places for Christian discipleship.  And so the only really logical conclusion is to welcome equal marriage, with the admission of same-sex couples on the same basis, whether or not your theology makes it a sacrament (mine doesn’t).  So to accept a position in which same-sex couples (even if married in law) were only offered a limited liturgy would inevitably seem to put us in a second-class place.

    And this has bites on the ground.  One of the strongest examples to me has been that of a couple of musician friends, partners for over 20 years, first civilly partnered and now married.  Both have been church organists (one still).  They will over the years have played at hundreds of opposite-sex marriages, cheerfully welcoming brides and grooms (whose previous and subsequent connection to the church may have been zero) to exercise their right to marry in church.  Under the Hereford Motion proposal, they would at least to have been able to enjoy a public liturgical celebration.  But no banns, no register, no invocation of Cana of Galilee.  That is a compromise, and it hurts.

    But we can recognise how conservatives too would have to compromise to live with this situation.  At present there is of course considerable diversity of opinion, and to some extent practice, across the Church of England.  But it is still credible for conservatives to say that the official positron is that traditional marriage is the only norm for relationships.  And none of us should doubt that for some, this is as basic as other key doctrines of the faith.  If we were to make the Trinity optional, or declare readings from the works of Aristotle to be Scripture, I too would wonder whether this was really a Christian church.

    And it has a local impact, as I have discussed with conservative parish clergy.  If approached by a same-sex couple seeking to celebrate their marriage, they can currently say politely that the Church of England doesn’t do that (and the website will confirm it).  If we have an official service, the couple will know that the refusal is down to their, or their parish’s, conscientious beliefs.  They will have been ‘outed’ as conservative on sexuality, and the couple may simply dismiss them as homophobic.  In my experience even the most conservative Christians want to be welcoming, but are wrestling in their hearts with what they believe to be obedience to God.  That hurts too.

    And all of us, on whichever side, may be fearful that a decision of this sort will mean local division of every sort.  Will the PCC approve use of the service?  Will Julie resign if they do?  Will Greg resign if they don’t?  What about the church school Inclusion and Diversity Policy?  It will not be easy, and it may dislodge us from customary middle-class English evasion.

    The question of public liturgies is of course only one element of the debate.  But I set it out as an example of how the way forward may well involve no-one getting what they want, or even what they believe to be the most holy and true solution.  That seems to be the way, without exception, the Church of England does things.  And ideally there is usually an element of the settlement that can be interpreted by different sides to suit their own theologies, and I feel that’s not a bad thing.

    There is another reason, sharpened this week by the news of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s recent and seemingly fruitless meeting with the Archbishop and other senior churchmen in Ghana, where a proposed new law will criminalise LGBT+ people severely.  Whatever our fears, I firmly believe it very unlikely that any of us in the Church of England, conservative or liberal, LGBT+ or otherwise, face imprisonment for our identity or beliefs.  The joint statement by leaders of all the Synod groups in response to this threat of terrifying injustice may, sadly, be making little impact in Ghana.  But perhaps it is a sign that we are closer together than we realise, and can find a way forward.

    Revd Neil Patterson is writing here in a personal capacity.

  • General Synod – A Pragmatic View from the Middle Ground

    by the Ven Nikki Groarke, Archdeacon of Dudley and part of convening group for the Evangelical Forum on General Synod

    As I arranged to borrow a colleague’s academic gown, and rescued my crumpled white preaching bands from the depths of my cassock pocket, where they have been since the inauguration service of the last General Synod, (strange attire we clergy have to wear on this one-off occasion!), I reflected how different it feels this time to be heading off to London.  Different because I am not a synod-newbie, and have a clearer idea of what to expect and how it all works.  Different too because the experience of being a member of this body has changed me.  My understanding of the workings of the Church of England has deepened, I have been enriched through new friendships, and my views on some key issues under discussion have been modified, as I have engaged in dialogue, debate and process, both formal and structured, and informal in the bars and coffee areas around the edges.

    I am by nature an optimist, so I look forward to this group of sessions with faith and hope, honoured that the clergy of my diocese have entrusted me to serve in this way, and intending to do so diligently and prayerfully.  It is, however, hope tinged with sadness and frustration, that there are some amongst our elected colleagues, and from the ranks of synod groupies on social media, who would seek to divide and polarise us before we have even started.

    In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul begs his hearers to lead a life worthy of their calling and make “every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”  Unity in the body of Christ is not something we have to work to create, it is there to be maintained.  Indeed we are equipped through the Spirit to be built up in unity as we mature, as we know Jesus more fully and become like him.  Each of us has been given grace for this, Paul claims.  How I long to see that grace in evidence over these next five years.

    Society as a whole is becoming increasingly polarised.   Perhaps it’s the stress and isolation of a global pandemic, but it feels that extremists are ever more extreme, that any view held needs to be voiced with ever louder decibels, that anyone who does something disagreeable should resign instantly.  There is little room for careful conversation in any arena, and those who are hurting all too easily become casualties of word wars.

    As Christians we have been given grace to engage with differing positions more healthily.  Synod is not, as some have described it, a house of two main parties to which all must reveal their allegiance and swear their loyalty, but an elected body of Christ followers called to engage with maturity, humility and trust.  It’s easy to make assumptions about where people stand on certain issues, to categorise, judge, and pit us against ‘the other’.  But some of us don’t fit those boxes into which we are being pushed.

    I didn’t anticipate at the beginning of the last synod that I would deliver the opening speech in a key debate on sexuality and become associated with the ‘silent middle’.  I have no regrets, but what’s changed from that moment, when I stuck my head above the parapet, is that I am no longer silent, and somehow my willingness to be vulnerable seems to have enabled the middle to have a voice.

    It can take courage to hold the middle ground, and it’s not a comfortable place to be. Neither is it newsworthy or popular.  But standing in the middle often places you close enough to listen to ‘the other’. In the middle you perhaps hear more than those who shout from the extremes, where they have sometimes been driven by pain as well as passion.  From the middle you can engage in conversation and learning. You can grow.  You can change.  On the issue I spoke on then, I have moved a little further away from the centre.  I hope that many of us will change our stance on different things over the coming years. That’s not weakness.  It’s openness to learn and grow and change.

    So I will speak confidently from the middle during this synod whenever it feels appropriate, refusing to be categorised into a binary extremity.

    I am both an evangelical and inclusive and affirming of LGBT relationships. I am both passionate about saving the parish and believe we need to make changes at local church level, radically rethinking patterns of ministry to enable all churches to flourish.  I am convinced we need both local and central strategies for growth – most archdeacons are not out to close small churches, rather to enable them to flourish, and our diocesan appointment of a Dean of Smaller Churches is one way to do that, providing practical solutions in complex parishes.  We are in this together.

    The middle way will often be messy, compromise is rarely tidy – we’ve seen that in the way we have navigated other challenges within the church, such as the ordination of women.  But I would much rather have a win/win, both/and way forward with messiness and muddle, than remain stuck forever on issues where we will always differ.

    From the middle I will aim to navigate the decisions before us with principled pragmatism rather than pressured polarisation.  From the middle I will encourage other evangelicals to meet together as part of the Evangelical Forum in a safe space to reflect on synod issues, operating with a different model of being together than that of other evangelical gatherings on offer.  I will occasionally attend meetings of those groups described as the other ‘main party’, because I consider myself to be both orthodox and revisionist.

    And I will remind myself from time to time, that though the decisions taken at General Synod are hugely important, and we carry a weighty responsibility when we vote to make changes, or not, to the church we all love, we must not delude ourselves that we are representative of those who worship in our local churches week by week.  We are a quirky subset of the church, with time and inclination to participate in a highly structured, middle class, outdated governance structure which excludes some who would otherwise be involved, and does not even enter the consciousness of the majority.

    Many who are active in our churches only vaguely know that General Synod exists, they play no part in the election process, they only know we’ve made a controversial decision when it appears in the press. The alleged ‘substantial orthodox presence’ populating our churches is simply getting on with being church, trying their hardest to worship God in ways that are accessible to their neighbours and those they love.  They are serving their communities as best they can.  Some only start to care about same-sex blessings when their grandson introduces his male fiancé, others have gradually found the freedom to be themselves within the context of their congregation and openly identify as gay.  They want to save their parish, because they always have, not because it’s become a sexy slogan.  They are principled and pragmatic, and have been given grace to muddle through, mostly finding a middle way, compromising when they must to keep going, and living in the unity that is theirs to maintain.

    Let’s remember them, for it is they who will keep the Church of England alive and strong, not those of us debating its future in a stuffy chamber, or on social media.

  • General Synod: Over and Out!

    by the Revd Canon Rosie Harper, Chaplain to the Bishop of Buckingham and Trustee of the Ozanne Foundation

    Jayne very kindly invited me to reflect on my 11 years on General Synod, as the new Synod is about to begin. So please excuse it being a bit more personal than usual.

    My father’s first journey outside the UK was to Switzerland to meet the family of the beautiful young woman he had fallen in love with. Round a massive wooden table he was introduced to her parents and the six brothers and one sister. Later that evening they went for a walk and my mother (yes reader, she married him) asked him how he felt. He told her he’d been horrified. ‘Why were they all shouting at one another all the time? Why were they so cross?’

    Turns out he had mistaken passion for anger. Many British people do.

    I have often thought of this story as I have tried to make sense of my relationship with General Synod and indeed with the Church of England. Having retired from Parish ministry earlier this year and called it a day with General Synod, am I now heading for a divorce”?

    In order to fit in, to belong, to be a fitting wife for my pastor Dad, my mother interiorised her passion.  Coming over here just after the war and speaking with a Germanic accent I can only imagine how necessary that felt. I caught glimpses of a deep thinking, unconventional woman who was very concerned that I wouldn’t spoil my life chances by being perceived as too ‘over the top’.

    Somehow my drive to ask difficult questions, to challenge, to speak for people without a voice – yes, to be passionate – never got moderated to a fully British tone. It took me quite a while to understand that this was a problem in the Church of England.

    I first went to an Anglican church at university and that was because Ivor Keys was the organist and he was magic! While I was at the Royal Academy of Music I went to All Souls Langham Place and again, playing the violin in their orchestra more than compensated for the oppressive theology that I found there.

    Walking through the years I learnt Anglican ways and there was so much to enjoy. I found God in the hearts of good and loving people. Much as I loved my parish, and I really did, in due course I tried to get some new and very interesting jobs. I failed, not, I was told  because of my ability but because I was too outspoken. I belonged but I didn’t belong. General Synod was much the same. I remember being told ‘we need people like you’. Ha!

    Well – we all probably have a tale like that to tell. We all bring both spiritual and cultural baggage and encounter many layers of unwritten rules, disability, class, gender and race divisions, intellectual snobbery, power structures and old school networks, reputational lawyers and NDAs. It’s an Institution. What do you expect?

    Only this is a church that is meant to preach something rather different. That we are all equal before God and equally loved. That the first shall be last. That we should not judge.

    Sadly it seems that we just can’t get it right.

    I sat on the Synod that was trying to make women equal and become bishops and we managed to embed inequality into its very laws. I voted for a ban on conversion therapy and yet Christians are lobbying the Government for an exemption. We are still at the point where gay people are deemed to have been created less equal than others and denied both the joy of marriage and a place at the high table. We fail to see how even discussing this as an option is abhorrently abusive. There are just so many ways in which, by the sheer essence of who you are, it is so difficult to truly belong.

    For most of these years the discomfort was perfectly bearable. Daniel Finkelstein wrote a pre-obituary of terminally ill Frank Field in The Times on 2nd November. He described Field’s position in a way that resonated: ‘Field saw political allegiance as being a little like supporting a football team. Not something to which, once you had adopted it, you gave much further thought to or could easily change.’… ‘What Field meant by his analogy was that he realised his continued membership of the Labour party was tribal and he wasn’t going to let it constrain his thinking or actions.’

    Yep! That was how it was with me and the CofE.  It had become my home, yet I was fine about being a critical friend.

    It stayed like that for many years. It’s why I stood for election to General Synod. I was looking for reform and even rebirth and wanted to do my small part from within. The time I felt most lonely was when I articulated a Christian and compassionate argument for Assisted Dying, but even then I found kind and encouraging folk to talk to.

    What changed things for me was safeguarding. Working as chaplain to Alan Wilson, Bishop of Buckingham, we found ourselves listening to a growing number of people whose experience of abuse within the Church was made unspeakably worse by the way the institution treated them. I gained a far deeper understanding of the parable of the Good Samaritan. It was walking by on the other side writ large. Somehow with each new person’s experience I made a shift from feeling that the CofE was basically a good but flawed outfit, to wondering if there was something irredeemably rotten at its core.

    Over many years decent men and women promised to put survivors at the heart of all they did, but no-one could make it happen. Apology followed tear-stained apology.

    We began to drown under an avalanche of new policy, training and procedure, but the actual survivors remained an afterthought. Good grief – we still don’t even have a date for the Makin report into the Smyth abuse and Smyth died in 2017. The actual abuse has been known about for far longer and it seems the survivors matter so little that their story has not even been logged.

    I don’t know how this will end. It’s never great to divorce, and I’m not quite at that point yet, but it‘s hard to see the way forward once the trust has gone. I sincerely hope that the next generation of Synod members will find cause to be less cynical and I will watch with interest and encourage where I can.

  • On Bishop Michael Nazir-Ali’s Move to Rome…

    1. by Revd Trevor Wyatt, Vicar of Christ Church,  Bexleyheath and Co-Chair of MOSAIC 

    As has been widely reported in the media, Rt Revd Michael Nazir-Ali, former Bishop of Rochester, was recently received into the full communion of the Catholic Church by Monsignor Keith Newton on the Feast of St Michael and All Angels, and with the permission of the Holy See will be ordained to the Catholic priesthood for the Ordinariate at some point in the future. It was my privilege to be Ordained Deacon and then Priest by Bishop Michael in Rochester Cathedral at Michaelmas in 2000/2001.  It is a sadness to me that the Bishop who Ordained me has left the Church of England.  Bishop Michael has held many senior positions, has a fine theological mind and his leaving will be considered by many to be a deficit to the Church of England.

    It seems that a key reason for Bishop Michael leaving, as reported in an interview with the Telegraph is “a lack of teaching authority in Anglicanism, a lack of a sense of belonging to a worldwide church where everyone has to do things in step, rather than everyone doing whatever they want to do”.  In its governance structures the Church of England and the worldwide fellowship of Anglican churches (the Anglican Communion) has never had a centralised authority like the Papacy in the Roman Catholic Church that can amongst other things, provide a “clear teaching authority” that all are compelled to follow.  The founding fathers of the Church of England relied on a doctrine of provincial autonomy – the church was beholden to nobody but the King, and least of all to a Bishop in a foreign land.  The Anglican tradition has tended to eschew centralisation and see benefits where authority is mediated though a number of separate entities thus avoiding the dangers of tyranny and unchecked power.  Anglicanism has historically been committed to an approach to authority where its sources are dispersed through a number of different channels with the objective that they are mutually restricting and illuminating.  The timeless words of Lord Acton warn us that ‘Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely’.

    Because the Anglican tradition has not had a “centralised authority” it has become the kind of church where people can more freely express their opinion about things.  The intellectual freedom to question the establishment, speak truth to power, challenge accepted norms and the status quo without being excommunicated is something that many Anglicans treasure.  Admittedly this doesn’t look too good in our media age of “sound bites” however the richness of working with different perspectives is arguably something to be celebrated rather than disparaged.  The history of the Church of England especially over the last two hundred years has been one of living with increasing diversity over a wide range of theological issues.

    During the nineteenth century the various ‘parties’ within the Church of England – the catholics, evangelicals and the so-called liberals became more visible.  The Catholic tradition was re-energised and led by the so called ‘Oxford movement’ including John Henry Newman, who of course went to Rome like Bishop Michael.   In the Church of England one could now be ‘Catholic’ or ‘Evangelical’.   However, differences don’t stop here.  Anglicans have always had different opinions about most ethical issues that one might care to mention.  When it comes to whether we can “go to war” and kill the enemy, there are ‘pacifists’ who believe that war is always wrong, and then there are those who support the ‘just war’ theory – that in certain proscribed circumstances it is ok.  Over the question of contraception, although it was overwhelmingly supported by the Lambeth Conference in 1930 a large minority of Bishops present disagreed with the majority.  When the Abortion Act was passed in October 1967 it is on record that Bishops of the Church of England voted both ‘for’ and ‘against’.  Although General Synod agreed to the Ordination of women as Priests back in 1992, and women as Bishops in 2014, many issues remain and we need to find better ways of living together with our differences over this so that both sides on this issue can flourish.  On marriage after divorce, the church allows clergy the right of conscience not to remarry divorced people.  The most recent example of difference has been the spectacle of two recent Archbishops, Carey and Williams,  taking opposing views on assisted dying.  When we come to the issue of the day – human sexuality – there are passionately held view on all sides and the church finds itself divided pretty much down the middle, if the most recent General Synod elections are anything to go by.

    If anything summarises Anglicanism in its classical form and in its history, it is living with diversity and difference – whether Catholic or Protestant, or over the many complex ethical issues about which we take different views.  In the future it is unlikely that there will be a ‘knock down argument’ or an ‘overwhelming consensus’ on many of these issues.

    It is perhaps ironic that just at the moment when Bishop Michael has moved to Rome, Pope Francis has formally launched a two-year global consultation process in the Roman Catholic Church, saying “. It seems highly likely that many of the questions about which Anglicans disagree will at the very least be debated in this consultation process e.g. women priests and human sexuality.

    In response to this diversity that is the sheer reality of things in the Anglican tradition, my deepest prayer and urgings are to encourage everyone on all sides to hold on to our shared identity in Christ above everything else, and to find ways of walking towards each other rather than walking away.  That we enter into the areas of tension and find ways of inhabiting uncomfortable places, disagreeing with each other in the kindest way possible and holding on to each other with bonds of love and affection.  I recognise immediately that staying and remaining requires sacrifice and has been at a huge personal cost to many, and that I speak as a white straight male whose lived experience is not directly affected as it is for so many others.  Not everyone will feel that they can keep with us, but I profoundly hope that most will.  Over the years the Anglican tradition has been wonderfully creative and resourceful in finding ways to hold different kinds of acknowledged, public disagreement within a framework of common life as one church, and one communion of churches.

    I for one hope we can find similarly creative ways through the current issues that threaten our common life.

     

     

  • General Synod: Once More Unto the Breach?

    by Canon Simon Butler, Member of General Synod and Vicar of St Mary’s, Battersea

    In two weeks’ time the new General Synod will be inaugurated. Synodical psephologists are already analysing the results, trying to see where they lead, especially on the question of human sexuality, attitudes to which seem to have been a key factor in determining who has been elected. The Church Times reckons that both progressives and conservatives have done well at the expense of the middle ground and traditional Catholics[1]; Inclusive Church reckons 45-47% of those elected are clear progressives; the Evangelical Group in General Synod (EGGS) also appears to have done well, although it is hard to see how many of ‘their’ candidates will vote in a conservative direction, if only because EGGS encouraged conservative candidates not to be clear about that in their election addresses[2]!

    All of this is grist to the mill to experienced Synod watchers: Anthony Archer, sadly not elected again from St Albans, says “I fear Living in Love and Faith (LLF) is dead in the water…there will be no change of any kind during 2021-26[3].”; from a very different perspective, Peter Ould claims that “there is still a substantial orthodox presence in the Church of England…LLF is not a shoe-in for the revisionists and we are likely to see no change…towards accommodating same-sex unions[4].”

    Despite divergent hopes, both Archer and Ould agree about one thing: that both ‘sides’ have the numbers to block any attempt by the other to move the church in a more conservative or more progressive direction. And, while strictly numerically that may prove accurate, I find myself wondering whether this is a genuine piece of realpolitik or simply a processing of either hopes dashed or worst fears not being realised?

    I think the jury is still out.

    First, because Synod is a gathering of disciples open to the Holy Spirit. We often change our minds or adjust our perspective through relationship and listening. Over the next five years, despite the best attempts of campaigning bloggers like Ian Paul and Colin Coward to persuade us that the choice is about two mutually-exclusive, competing ‘orthodoxies’ – what Paul would call “historic biblical orthodoxy[5]” and Coward “radical Christian inclusion…an evolutionary process[6]” – General Synod is made up of people committed to listening to God and one another. For reasons more psychological than theological, the most irreconcilable conservative and progressive campaigners seem to only want a ‘winner takes all’ approach.

    That is simply not part of the DNA of the Church of England. We bear with one another, we recognise we need one another, we accept (at our best) that we cannot be ‘A Christian Presence in Every Community[7]’ with only people like us. We say at every Eucharist, “we who are many are one body”. Like it or not, conservatives and progressives are stuck with one another – not chiefly in synodical deadlock, but in a shared obedience to discern together the mind of Christ for the future of the Church. Who knows where that could lead? Could God’s truth be bigger than either/or?

    Second, because LLF is alive and well and being engaged with. Peter Ould’s sleight of hand claim that, because lay Synod electors return good numbers of conservatives the Church of England is more conservative than liberals claim and conservatives fear, is no more than an assertion, especially as worried conservatives have been encouraged for some time to pack Deanery Synods with members[8]. Conservative forces are often energised to resist change more by fear than hope when it comes to politics; but, even if the conservative bloc is strong in Synod, the evidence of LLF is that, where it is done properly, it is landing well and that many people are listening and learning, not just to bolster their own view, but to appreciate the views of others. At the very least this must open up the possibility that listening really does change hearts and attitudes and that change remains entirely possible. The possibility of change is what we signed up to in commending Living in Love and Faith.

    So even if there are blocking minorities in the General Synod, I agree with Charlie Bell that compromise is still possible[9]. Indeed, I think both theologically and politically it may well be essential for the health of the Church we all claim to love – even if we don’t love all of it as much as we love our bit of it! The problem is of course that both “sides” want to compromise in separate ways – and expect the other side to do so in ways that suit that our “side’s” agenda. We will have to work extremely hard and long to discover the costly path of what Bell helpfully articulates as “compromise and conscience”.

    This week, there has been an encouraging first step in response to the dreadful proposals to criminalise LGBTQ+ people in Ghana. As many will know, the Ghanaians have issued a statement supporting a parliamentary Bill[10] which, among other things, will result in draconian action against LGBTQ+ people and their supporters, even potentially their families. These ungodly proposals have attracted widespread criticism, including from Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and many diocesan bishops. Significantly, however, the Officers of the General Synod have combined with the leaders of key Catholic, Evangelical and progressive voices on sexuality to issue a joint statement of support for Archbishop Justin’s intervention. It’s a positive step to see both progressive and conservative voices on sexuality uniting in the face of something that clearly flies in the face of every statement and agreement made by the Primates of the Anglican Communion.

    Such solidarity is a small but visible step we have been able to take together; yet, given the much wider challenges the Church of England faces, can conservatives and progressives can find any further common ground? For some, like Peter Ould and Ian Paul, the synodical deadlock is evidence that no change is likely and I firmly expect them to argue that the whole project should be abandoned; I’ve begun to hear that argument rehearsed. But what they fail to appreciate is that, for many progressives, even the evolutionary ones like me rather than the radical ones like Colin Coward, the issues are as fundamental to our discipleship as those of conservatives: for us the Gospel is for all; we often see holiness and discipleship in same-sex relationships, a sign of God’s blessing that the Church should honour. The loving faithfulness I see in such relationships in my congregation is far more exemplary than the tabloid tone we see in some conservative blogging, which see progressives colluding in a “furious assault on the Church”[11].

    Whatever the synodical numbers, this matter isn’t going to go away. Unless we can compromise, we will all have to shoulder responsibility for a never-ending argument about sexuality while the Church of England becomes even more distant from the people of our land.

    It’s time to start a different conversation. No one holds all the cards. Do we all dig our heels in crying, like Luther, “Here I stand; I can do no other”? Or might we all stop blaming each other for the division we face, and try and reach a settlement? Ironically, with no winner-takes-all possible, the likelihood of a settlement actually increases.

    Some will cry “Once more unto the breach, dear friends![12]”, as we return to the synodical fray, but I find myself wondering if we can afford to doubt the possibility of a settlement, remembering Lucio’s words in Measure for Measure, “Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt[13].”

     

    [1] https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2021/22-october/news/uk/high-turnover-in-general-synod-elections

    [2] https://www.pinknews.co.uk/2021/09/22/church-of-england-evangelicals-general-synod-candidates/

    [3] https://www.facebook.com/anthony.archer/posts/10158075355006361

    [4] https://www.psephizo.com/life-ministry/what-will-the-new-general-synod-look-like/

    [5] https://www.psephizo.com/sexuality-2/debating-the-church-and-same-sex-marriage/

    [6] http://www.unadulteratedlove.net/blog/2021/8/3/radical-christian-inclusion-a-definition

    [7] The strapline of the Church of England

    [8] http://www.ceec.info/uploads/4/4/2/7/44274161/gs_2021_elections_paper_leaflet_-_jw_edit_28.08.2020.pdf

    [9] https://viamedia.news/2021/10/13/general-synod-the-importance-of-compromise-conscience/

    [10] https://www.episcopalcafe.com/ghanas-anglican-bishops-support-draconian-anti-gay-bill/

    [11] https://www.psephizo.com/sexuality-2/what-miracles-does-the-church-need-on-sexuality/

    [12] Henry V, Act III, Scene I

    [13] Act I, Scene IV

  • ‘The Bible is Clear’, Consent & ‘Conversion Therapy’

    by the Revd Canon Dr Phil Groves, former Director of the Anglican Communion Office (2006 – 2016) and Associate Rector Wychert Vale Benefice 

    In the public debate over ‘conversion therapy’ the leaders of evangelical powerhouses such as the Evangelical Alliance and the Church of England’s Evangelical Council have sought to maintain space for people to receive ‘non-coercive’ counselling and prayer for those seeking to live in accordance with their beliefs. They cite freedom of religion and spread stories about people being denied the right to pray the Lord’s Prayer. Religious freedom is said to be at stake.

    What I don’t see is any engagement with the damage to evangelical theology done by advocating such change orientated therapies.

    ‘The Bible is clear’ has become a mantra of institutional evangelicalism as exemplified by the response to the Evangelical Alliance to proposals to ban conversion therapy:

    ‘The teaching of the Bible is clear that sexual activity is restricted to monogamous marriage between one man and one woman. For Christians who hold to this biblical teaching, it is essential that those who experience same sex attraction are free to pursue and receive support to help them live in accordance with their beliefs.’

    If ‘the Bible is clear’ defines reality then it must follow that ‘same sex attracted people’ can find fulfilment in singleness or in heterosexual marriage.

    Plenty of Biblical scholars have questioned whether ‘the Bible is clear’, but they have been unconvincing to those who represent evangelicalism. However, in rejecting such claims evangelicalism needs to face up to just what it is endorsing.

    No one claims the Bible has anything to say on the kind of ‘support’ that might be needed by people who are convinced by the clarity of the Evangelical Alliance’s message and who know themselves not to conform.  So what kind of therapies are they keen to support?

    The Evangelical Alliance is clear that they oppose the use of electric shock treatment and rape as methodologies, and this is important because while they are clearly criminal here, the rape of lesbians in particular is common in Africa and our African Anglican allies need all the support they can get to have the laws that enable horrific abuse to be removed.

    However, they continue to support non-coercive therapies, without specifying just what they are.

    The most common ‘therapy’ that has been adopted by Christian groups is so called ‘reparative therapy’. Reparative therapy was developed by Freudian analysts and was based on assumptions that sexual drive is learnt in childhood and adolescence through desire for the more distant parent. Gay men (and Reparative Therapy focused almost exclusively on gay men) were understood to be closely attached to their mothers and have distant or absent father figures for whom they developed sexual desire. The remedy was to develop an extremely close male to male bond between male analyst and client. These relationships broke all the norms of distance and clients were rewarded for good behaviour, such as sexual fantasies and sexual encounters with women, and reprimanded for bad behaviour as the therapist became the father figure.

    The British Psychoanalytic Council only finally repudiated such analysis in 2012.

    The academic literature that informed that decision explored the abuse often inflicted by therapists on clients and the damage done to clients. ‘Talking therapies’ were understood to be harmful to clients and society as a whole. Clear policies of discrimination barring LGBT people from training as analysts was eventually put in the past.

    Of course, the people who came for psychoanalysis did so of their own free will – they were not forced into it. Except they were. They were persuaded of their own deviancy by a culture that portrayed heterosexuality as pure. They were easy to persuade that their failure of attachment to their father was real and at the heart of the problem. They were open to forming a bond with an analyst who often thrived on the power.

    During the 1990s Christian organisations promoting change orientated therapies latched on to these Freudian solutions especially with the formation of National Association for Research & Therapy of Homosexuality (NARTH), founded by Charles Socarides, a leading Freudian analyst, and Catholic therapist Joseph Nicolosi.

    Their views were promoted by Anglican Mainstream and the Latimer Trust in a book published in 2007 entitled God, Gays and the Church. The book also promoted other ways of avoiding ‘same-sex attraction’ such as praying to the saints and most specifically the use of John Henry Newman as a ‘spirit guide’. Yes, the Latimer Press published a book promoting the use of prayers to the saints. However, it was the discredited Freudianism of Socarides and Nicolosi that dominated the text.

    Evangelical Christianity became the standard bearer for Freudian assumptions about sexual attraction, while often labelling progressives as Freudians (oh, the irony).

    Have things changed?

    Well, a key player in the campaigns to stop the banning of change therapy is The Core Issues Trust and it continues to reference reparative therapy as a key component of what they call Change Orientated Therapies. They don’t make people aware that it is outdated Freudianism, but the Director of CIT, Mike Davidson, is shown proudly standing by Joseph Nicolosi who was absolutely clear about the therapy he was promoting.

    Institutional Evangelicalism has become the last bastion of support for the 20th Century Freudian understanding of what it understood as deviant sexuality. ‘The Bible is clear’ is the mantra, what actually is being endorsed is an outdated Freudianism.

    It cannot be healthy for evangelical theology.

  • Ghana: “Grandma, What Big Teeth You Have….!”

    by the Ven Peter Leonard, Archdeacon of the Isle of Wight and Chair of OneBodyOneFaith

    On social media this last week I saw a light-hearted post which questioned how Little Red Riding Hood fails to recognise that a wolf has replaced her grandma in the famous fairy tale. It is a good question but not seeing or responding to the danger in front of you is not sadly restricted to fairy tales.

    The parliament of Ghana is about to discuss the “Promotion of Proper Human Sexual Rights and Ghanaian Family Values Bill” which proposes that anyone who identifies as gay or transgender face imprisonment for up to five years and anyone who promotes or supports non-straight sexual identities be sent to prison for up to 10 years. It also requires Ghanaian citizens to report so called ‘suspects’. This is potentially the toughest anti-gay legislation in the world and the House of Bishops of the Anglican Church in Ghana has issued a statement in full support of the bill stating that to be LGBTQI+ “is unbiblical and ungodly”. They further state that they will “open their counselling and support centres for the needed transformation services required by these persons” – also known as conversion therapy. You can read the full statement here.

    Despite the media coverage of this statement neither of our English archbishops nor any bishop in the Church of England has said anything about the Ghanaian bishops’ actions. It is as if they have their red hoods pulled down and are still choosing to see grandma rather than a wolf. Although it is interesting how quick they are to respond when an Anglican province makes a more progressive statement about the LGBTQI+ community isn’t it?!

    I am particularly impacted by this statement because I serve in the Diocese of Portsmouth, which as part of the Inter Diocesan West Africa Link scheme is partnered with the Anglican Church in Ghana. Portsmouth has a long history of supporting the church in Ghana financially, in prayer and through mutual visits. The diocese is due to be hosting the Ghanaian bishops and their wives in the run up to the Lambeth conference next year. I have been aware of their anti-LGBTQI+ stance for some time and that has been problematic for me as a civil partnered gay man and for others.

    But this new step presents me, and many other ordained and lay members of Portsmouth Diocese with a challenge. I am already being contacted by people asking what they can do. I know of churches who are withdrawing their financial support immediately and asking for action in terms of a statement from the Diocese of Portsmouth and more direct steps when the Ghanaian bishops visit. What form that action could take is uncertain – is it more effective to refuse to host them or to challenge them and protest when they are here?

    One of the joys of being within the Diocese of Portsmouth is that it has felt a relatively “safe” place to be an openly gay member of the clergy and there are many churches which are fully inclusive of LGBTQI+ Christians. To invite the Ghanaian bishops into that safe place makes it considerably less safe, not only for those of us who work for the diocese but also for those members of the church, clinging on by their fingertips, who will see welcoming them here as a statement of support for what they have said.

    For anyone outside of the church who sees the diocese welcoming the Ghanaian bishops also places us squarely in support of them. The only way to address this is a clear and unequivocal statement condemning the bill and their support of it.

    To be clear, this is not about whether you support equal marriage, this is not about whether or not you think LGBTQI+ people can be part of the church. This is about that fact that LGBTQI+ people, or even those who are suspected of being LGBTQI+ will be locked up. If I were in Ghana I would be in prison as would my partner and many other people I know, or we would be being subjected to the tortures of so-called “conversion therapy” which even the UN has now condemned. Members of my family and friends would also be locked up for supporting me. Worse still it will result in people being hunted down in Ghana, beaten, and potentially killed. This is not an issue of culture or of different biblical interpretations – this is a matter of life and death for some. This is not the fabled “Good Disagreement” that is so often spoken of, but little seen, this is not a matter for “Pastoral Principles” however good they may be on paper.

    This is homophobia. This is oppression. This is injustice and it is the absolute opposite of how Christ lived and what he taught.

    I have said before, and it is a great sadness that it remains true within the Church of England, an apology with no action to change the behaviour is meaningless. The Archbishops and the House of Bishops can make as many apologies for the way the Church of England has treated the LGBTQI+ community, they can set up as many shared conversations and LLF type programmes as it likes but until something changes these are meaningless. Their silence in the face of such blatant homophobia and abuse of human rights puts them on the side of the oppressor.

    It is time to call out the wolf and stop pretending we are still looking at grandma.

     

  • Fr Alan Griffin – Unconscious Homophobia?

    by Canon James Mustard, Canon Precentor at Exeter Cathedral

    The tragic circumstances of the death last year of Fr Alan Griffin have been the subject of national media attention.  The Coroner’s report – a “Prevention of Future Deaths report”- released in July, described a litany of errors in the handling of safeguarding accusations. These accusations were found to have “no complaint, no witness and no accuser”, “no concern raised” and “no person said they had been the subject of or had witnessed any concerning behaviour, save that Father Griffin had been seen to have dinner with men in an Italian restaurant, for which he might have paid the bill.”

    These vague insinuations, made in February 2019 by an outgoing staff member of the Diocese of London, formed the basis of a chaotic and shambolic safeguarding investigation, the details of which were never described to Fr Griffin, save that it was underway. It must have left him feeling afraid, uncertain and alone. On 8 November 2020, Alan Griffin took his own life.

    A notable feature of this tragedy was the lack of any accusation or victim. Yet when Fr Alan became the actual victim of this process, the Diocese of London and Church of England were slow to respond. The Coroner’s report records a “lack of full engagement by the Church of England in the inquest process until June 2021”, seven months after the inquest commenced.  The recent description of Fr Alan’s death as “unfortunate” may have been deemed prudent by advisors, but – in letters to the Church Times at least – it seemed to minimise the experience of the victim. This is itself a serious Safeguarding concern.

    The Diocese of London and Lambeth Palace have responded to the Coroner and set out their initial steps to prevent future deaths, as required.  The Church of England has expressed “deep regret”, and the Diocese of London, where Fr Alan served from 2001 to his retirement in 2011, has announced this month that it will conduct a “Learning Lessons Review”.  But the Diocese of London will not apportion blame.

    I knew Fr Alan Griffin personally, before he was in the Diocese of London. From 1978 he ministered and taught in the Diocese of Exeter. He was a lecturer in Classics at the University of Exeter, where I was a student in the 1990s. He was Assistant Chaplain to the University and Warden of halls of residence, later Assistant Curate of an Exeter parish. Alongside University Chaplains he ministered faithfully to the student community, from a chapel that was in the 1980s and 90s a vocations powerhouse. Alan was openly gay, a brave move at that time in Devon. As a young man, afraid to express my own identity, I was impressed that Fr Alan was never “in the closet”. His example gave me confidence to express myself similarly. I last saw him in his Rectory at St Andrew-by-the-Wardrobe in 2003, when I called in for a cup of tea, which he offered with typical kindness. So, I have a particular sadness at such terrible institutional failure. I have no doubt that many in the leadership of the Diocese of London and beyond are traumatised by Fr Alan’s death, too.

    How could this have happened? Why was a retired, gay, priest not deserving of due process? Why might rumour around a retired, gay, priest lead to such a chaotic, and ultimately tragic, response? Will these be some of the “lessons learned”?

    I am left with the uncomfortable possibility that the Church’s actions in this case might be an expression of something deeper than institutional failure. Is it unconscious, institutional, homophobia? Homophobia in the insinuation that a priest in an Italian restaurant must be up to “no good”? Homophobia in the willingness to take that insinuation and extrapolate from it, without question, a fantastical and grotesque narrative? Homophobia in an investigation of abuse which was poorly conducted as if the retired, gay, accused didn’t matter or deserve better? Homophobia in an institution failing to engage with the Coroner until seven months had passed? Homophobia in the failure, in the opinion of the Coroner, not to have “recognised errors and undertaken meaningful attempts at improvement by the time of the inquest”? If this is so, it is how appallingly ironic that these events coincided with the launch of the Church of England’s “Living in Love and Faith” project to discern how sexuality fits “within the bigger picture of the Good News of Jesus Christ”.

    This tragic sequence of events took place between February 2019 and July 2021: this is not a historic or “non-recent” case. It resonates with an older miscarriage of justice: of someone betrayed by gossip, given a sham trial and silenced with nails on a cross, all to protect religious reputation. That injustice served to demonstrate God’s triumph over sin and death. It has challenged and inspired the Church for two thousand years. It called Fr Alan Griffin to ordained ministry. One can only imagine what a Coroner’s report would have made of that injustice two thousand years ago. How might it be similar to this Coroner’s Report?

    May Fr Alan rest in peace and rise in glory.

    The views expressed in this piece are the personal views of the author and do not represent the views of Exeter Cathedral

  • Now is Not The Time to Cut Clergy Posts!

    by the Ven Mark Ireland, Archdeacon of Blackburn and co-author with Mike Booker of ‘Making New Disciples’

    Twice in the last ten days we have appointed excellent candidates from outside the diocese to fill vacant parishes, one a curate at the end of their curacy and one transferring from unpaid non-stipendiary ministry to a paid position. On both occasions their respective archdeacons told me that they would have loved to keep the candidate in their diocese but sadly there was an indefinite freeze on appointing anyone not already on the incumbents’ payroll ‘for financial reasons’. Whilst I am delighted that parishes in our diocese should benefit, I can’t help lamenting that other dioceses are following a policy which I fear will prove short-sighted.

    Far from saving money, cutting the numbers of stipendiary clergy usually leads to a reduction in income, as less mission and ministry takes place and fewer people become disciples of Jesus Christ. When clergy are asked to take on more parishes in ever larger benefices, they somehow manage to keep all the services, buildings and occasional offices going, at least after a fashion, but they inevitably have less time and energy for mission and evangelism and planting new congregations. They also spend more time at their desk – and so have less time to spend in being a visible presence in the life of the community and talking to those who are searching for faith.

    Another short-term cost saving measure that creates lasting structural damage is delaying the appointments to our vibrant parishes. The lack of ordained leadership for extended periods of time erodes parish life, chokes off growth and demotivates generous givers.

    I know that the theory is that lay ministry will expand to fill the gap left by stipendiary clergy.

    In a recent book (Making New Disciples, 2015) Mike Booker and I quoted a remarkable statistic that 40% of fresh expressions of church are led by lay people with no formal training or authorisation. However potential lay ministers need clergy with time to recognise their gifts, encourage their vocation and invest in their training and development. As an incumbent a major part of my time was spent discipling individuals and growing new leaders, but when I focused on that I never worked myself out of a job. Instead, the church grew and I was as busy as ever!

    What’s more, freezing recruitment of parish clergy doesn’t make sense in spiritual terms.

    We have been praying and working for a 50% increase in vocations. Just when God seems to be answering our prayers and the number of vocations is increasing, we should be prayerfully trusting God to provide the finance to enable us to deploy these priests. What other organisation would go to the trouble and expense of recruiting and training new staff, only to tell them at the end of their trainee post that there was no job for them?

    Freezing recruitment also stifles the work of the Holy Spirit by hampering the growth of fresh expressions of church. Church plants sometimes grow to the size where they can no longer be sustained by volunteers. This is exactly the time when bold investment is needed to help the congregation transition to a paid priest. Such posts have potential to become self-supporting in time. However, if dioceses do not release funds at this point to pay a stipendiary priest the growth that the Spirit has given is I believe stifled and decline follows.

    And it doesn’t make sense on financial grounds.

    One diocese has cut a significant chunk of  stipendiary posts to save money, only to find the deficit is just the same. Many dioceses post-Covid have seen a significant drop in income but also a significant rise in the value of investments, leading to an increase in total assets. Whilst diocesan boards of finance rightly focus on what is held in free reserves, they should not ignore total assets. Whilst a significant part of a diocese’s total assets is in housing for current clergy (which can rarely be touched), there is often other housing stock being held onto ‘just in case’.

    Investments have performed remarkably well during the last three years, meaning that some dioceses may find themselves with increasing total assets at the same time as they are cutting clergy posts. The Charity Commission encourages charities not to accumulate large reserves but to use their assets for the object of the charity. During Covid we have endured an 18-month rainy day, so logically we should be reducing our total reserves significantly at this time to tide us over and help us maintain frontline clergy posts which will enable us to rebuild church life – otherwise there is little point in having such reserves. The diocese I serve in is committed to committed to building financial sustainability alongside strengthening our ministry both ordained and lay. To do so we recognise the need to realise investments now to underpin our vision.

    God loves to answer prayer. We have prayed that God would send more priests, and God has – the number of vocations is increasing. We have prayed for God to raise up new local congregations across the country, and God has. Rather than cutting clergy posts, let us turn to God afresh in believing prayer, trusting that the One who is able to send us priests and raise up new congregations can and will give us the finance we need.

    As Jesus said, ‘Seek first God’s kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

     

     

  • The Changing Face of General Synod

    by Prof Helen King, Professor Emerita in Classical Studies at The Open University, elected member of General Synod and member of Living in Love and Faith project

    I have just been elected to General Synod for Oxford diocese. This isn’t the first time I have stood for General Synod: it’s actually the third. I stood successfully in another diocese in 1985, in my late 20s, making me one of the youngest people on Synod, and then again five years later; at that point there were only eleven of us under-35 (out of a Synod total of around 500 people). I stood down because I moved diocese.

    I didn’t miss it: I had found it a bruising experience. In particular, the debates leading up to ordaining women were painful, even for someone with a strong vocation to be a laywoman.

    Yet I felt very strongly that I must stand this time around. So, how is it feeling now?

    In some ways, it’s familiar, even though different. Synodical government wasn’t new to me even in 1985. I’d accepted my vicar’s invitation to stand for PCC when I was 19. I was a rep on the local Council of Churches, and I rapidly moved on to Deanery Synod and then Diocesan Synod, as well as becoming Deanery Synod secretary. It was pretty obvious where I was heading. I remember the election process before the internet: including finding a local printer and paying for the printing costs (I was on a grant, just finishing my PhD, and money was very tight). The first time around, we had hustings; real, in-person, pretty well-attended hustings. I remember one candidate a few years older than me who spoke before me at the first of these, who stressed how many people had urged him to stand. Then as now, I saw this as typically churchy false modesty. Why is it wrong to know what you are capable of doing, and to put yourself forward? When I spoke, I talked about how I felt my skill-set and my experience made me a good candidate, and about how I had been along to listen to Synod meetings in Church House and, from my position in the public gallery, had realised for myself that this was something I could do well.

    When I joined General Synod, I was advised that it’s a good idea to belong to some ‘grouping’ just to get a sense of what is really going on. I joined the Catholic Group because that was where I thought I would feel most comfortable. I was then a member of the Church Union and enthused by the charismatic movement then taking place. In my early teens, I had been part of a large evangelical Church of England congregation with a very good youth club, which was also influenced by the charismatic revival, and I had then switched to a much-nearer middle-of-the-road parish church because my parents preferred it (my father, a former choirboy, was entirely turned off by the music at the evangelical church) and I didn’t need to rely on lifts home after evening events.

    The Catholic Group on General Synod had its moments, particularly in the bar at the York sessions, but, even though some supported women as deacons, as one of the few members fully committed to the ordination of women (I was also a member of the Movement for the Ordination of Women, and made no secret of this) I was never going to feel fully comfortable there. On one occasion I suspect I was left off a mailing list because they felt they couldn’t entirely trust me.

    I have no idea which groupings will exist when I turn up in November, but I have felt very well supported by the Inclusive Synod group during the election process so that is one which I will attend.

    At the end of the previous Synod, I was surprised to read people commenting about how much they thought they’d miss the camaraderie: I made friends on Synod, but not to that level. Partly this could be down to location. My diocese didn’t pay for overnight stays, so the two London meetings each year involved daily commutes home. This meant I missed out entirely on the evening meetings, and on any socialising over dinner. Some people from my diocese stayed with friends; I didn’t know anyone with whom I could stay. For next month, I’ve booked my room at the Premier Inn!

    With the results still being announced, I already feel I know more people on this new Synod than I did first time around. That’s not surprising: it’s at least partly just because I am older. My friendship circle, both lay and ordained, is completely different to that of a lay woman in her late 20s who had never worked for the Church. An old schoolfriend just sent me a message to say she has been elected; yesterday a colleague I’ve worked with in academic contexts sent me the same message. Social media puts me in contact with more Church members, some of whom I’ve never met, but who have also been elected to Synod.

    I’ll be interested to find out how it now feels to be a woman on Synod. Even “Can women be laity?” was once a genuine question, one I explored here. In the 1985-1990 Synod, while there were women in the House of Laity, a surprising number turned out to be the wives or children of clergy. There’s obviously nothing wrong with that – my own stepdaughter is a priest – but the experience of being part of a clergy household is a very different to my own. On one occasion, after I’d used a single word in ancient Greek in a speech, someone noted that I had done so and asked me if my husband was a priest; a startling assumption! I pointed out that my degrees are in ancient history.

    Now, we have women in all three houses. Then, we fought to get a crèche. Now, members can claim for the cost of caring for a dependent. Has all this change altered the feel of the Synod, I wonder?

    Only a month to wait and find out…