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Author: Helen King

  • Can the Church of England be Mature about Love?

    by Revd Canon Neil Patterson, Vice-Dean of Bristol Cathedral and Chair of Together for the Church of England

    As readers are probably aware, a set of liturgical resources known as the Prayers of Love & Faith (PLF) were commended by the House of Bishops for use in the Church of England in December last year and are available here. Whatever the shortcomings of the texts felt by some, these are important as the first official encouragement to pray with same-sex couples for the flourishing of our relationships. Inasmuch as the Church of England’s doctrine is defined by liturgical texts rather than dogmatic statements, they constitute the decisive point on the Living in Love & Faith journey where the Church has acknowledged that same-sex couples exist and are a good thing, even if we are still corporately a bit unsure what sort of thing that is.

    So it was a delight to recently attend a service where the Prayers were used for two friends of ours at a regular service at a cathedral. It was not quite ‘regular’ to the extent that the congregation was swelled by a substantial number of family and friends, close relatives read the lessons, and the music was provided by a superb choir assembled from friends for the occasion. But liturgically, it conformed entirely to the rubrics for the Prayers – it was a joyful service of Evensong, with the couple sitting in ordinary seats with everyone else, and the short prayers for and by them taking place alongside the intercessions towards the end.

    I do still hope for a Church of England in which same-sex marriage in church happens and, in the short term, for  ‘standalone’ services, i.e. for the use of the PLF to be accepted for a free-standing service devised for a particular couple (though it is already unclear how adding hymns, Scripture readings and other prayers – all of them already permitted in other services – to the commended PLF would render them unauthorised). This is especially important if we are to welcome those for whom a regular liturgy like Evensong would be inaccessible, as well as for the practicalities of time and date. But I reflected that the service I attended felt like a more mature Christian celebration of what was happening than many church weddings I took in my parish ministry.

    What I mean is that my friends were not at the beginning of their relationship – they remembered that, as a very new couple, they had attended my own civil partnership in 2017 – and have shared a house for some time. Their own legal partnership was in fact a little while ago, but this was the occasion when they felt ready to celebrate publicly, with family and friends, and to seek God’s blessing for the years ahead, as devout and serious Christians.  And for that the modest prayers, within a service which was chiefly an act of praise to God, seemed thoroughly appropriate.

    But is this not usually the situation for those marrying in church? I can only recall a single wedding I have taken where the couple were not already cohabiting, and that was because the groom was in the RAF and so (as I understood) not provided with married accommodation. And after marriage there is limited change in legal identity – as far as I can tell there is no pressure from  conservative Anglicans to revert to the situation before the Married Women’s Property Acts of 1870 and 1882, when all property was held in common (but controlled by the husband) or before the case of R v. R in 1991 when a wife’s body was held to belong to her husband (following 1 Corinthians 7) and so he was immune from any charge of rape. Yet we still purport to undertake some sort of existential change in a church wedding, taking two ‘single’ people and making them into something else, but I am not sure that we know what.

    Living in Love & Faith has focussed the attention of the Church with painful rigour on those of us in same-sex relationships, scrutinised as never before and now held by some to be responsible for many ills including, apparently, the decline in vocations to ordained ministry.  But I wonder if in fact we may be pointing the way to a more mature, less fairytale, understanding of all committed relationships. There have been official CofE documents on marriage occasioned by accepting the reality of divorce in 1999, or resisting same-sex marriage in 2013, and both are skewed by their contexts.  The LLF book treats it more widely, but evades the messy reality of forming relationships that leads to marriage. Until we can talk about this more honestly, we will have little credibility on the subject at all.

     

  • What do Others Think of Us?

    by Revd Rosalind Rutherford, a trustee of WATCH and a former member of General Synod during the passage of legislation for Women in the Episcopate

    Ten years ago, the Measure which would finally allow women to be appointed as bishops in the Church of England had been passed by General Synod (at a second attempt) and was working its way through Parliament, before receiving the Royal Assent. A few weeks after it became legal to appoint a bishop who was a woman, the Rev Libby Lane was announced as the new Bishop of Stockport, amid hopes that it really was a sign that gender discrimination had ended in the Church of England – or at least, was on the way out.

    One of the reasons that the Church of England moved quicker than anyone had imagined after the first attempt to legislate for women to be bishops failed (in November 2012) was that Parliament began to put pressure on the Church. The Church of England is the established church so it should not be so obviously lacking in gender equality among senior clergy. Specifically, Parliament wanted the Bench of Bishops in the House of Lords to include women as quickly as possible. In a climate in which bishops of the Church of England automatically having a place in the Lords was becoming less and less defensible, an all-male Bench of Bishops was even less justifiable. However, most diocesan bishops become members of the House of Lords in order of seniority, so without intervention it would still be several years before a bishop who was a woman became a member of the House of Lords. The “glass ceiling” would still remain unbroken in Parliament.

    This is why a simple piece of legislation was introduced in 2015, which stated that when a vacancy for a bishop arose in the House of Lords, the most senior woman would take precedence over any men. The initial legislation was time-limited because it was expected that, after ten years, enough women would be diocesan bishops for the most senior bishops to include women and men.

    But last week the House of Lords began the process of passing legislation to extend this legislation by another five years – the reason being that there are not yet not enough diocesan bishops who are women for there to be equal numbers of men and women introduced to the House of Lords. There are still only seven diocesan bishops who are women (in a month there will be eight). This raises the question of why there are still so few women among diocesan bishops.

    It can be salutary for us to hear what others are saying about the Church of England, so let’s turn to what was said by members of the Lords who spoke in the debate last week. What did they think of our commitment to diversity?

    For example:

    It is such a shame that the Church of England has to revisit this issue, as it was hoped back in 2015 that 10 years would be long enough to ensure that there were enough women diocesan bishops that the Lords spiritual would have some semblance of a gender balance. As somebody who had to organise gender balance among parliamentary candidates in my party, I realise that it is never an exact science. While there is welcome progress, the Lords spiritual still have the lowest proportion of females in the main groupings, at 24%.  (Baroness Brinton)

    In considering this Bill, we should be provided with a better understanding of why the Church has not done more to promote female bishops since 2014. For example, it is notable that, of the five episcopal sees with automatic seats in this House—namely, Canterbury, York, London, Durham and Winchester—only one is currently held by a woman. It would be helpful to know what particular efforts the Church of England is making to ensure gender equality amongst its own leadership and what the barriers that the right reverend Prelate the Bishop of St Albans references actually are. (Lord Devon)

    But what a fascinating and interesting position the country finds itself in that the Parliament of the UK must give legislative time to deal with the established Church’s centuries of discrimination against women taking senior roles and the slow progress it has made in ensuring that women Bishops have equal rights in this House.  (Lord Scriven)

    Important questions. Since 2015, twenty-two men have been nominated as diocesan bishops but only nine women, one of whom has already retired. In contrast, thirty-four women have been appointed as suffragan bishops and thirty-nine men.  The refusal (or inability) of CNCs to nominate diocesan bishops who are women has been noticed for several years now, and recently is becoming almost a scandal. Women are now among the most experienced suffragan bishops; they have proved their capability and ability, including several women being acting diocesan bishop during a vacancy, but there is a blockage when it comes to being nominated by a CNC. And there are strong reasons to think that this is because there are members of the CNCs who refuse to accept or vote for a woman to become the leader of a diocese.

    Those replying to such criticisms on behalf of the Church of England have invariably refused to accept that there is a structural and an ethical problem in the body that appoints bishops, but the recent failure of two CNCs to appoint now seems to be concentrating their minds.

    For example:

    I think it prudent to confess that we in the Church have made slower progress than we had hoped when it came to ensuring that our senior clergy are representative of the diverse congregations we serve. This is true both of women and of ethnic and racial minorities. We do not yet have proportionate representation of female bishops on these Benches, or in our diocesan bishops.

    Unfortunately, that pattern (or equal numbers of men and women appointed as bishops) has not consisted of as many female bishops as we had hoped, and we humbly ask this House to grant us a little longer to ensure that our excellent and qualified women bishops have enough time to overcome this barrier. (Bishop of St Albans)

    Similarly, the Bishop of Derby also admitted that there is still something blocking the appointment of women as diocesan bishops:

    Attention is being given to how the Crown Nominations Commission deliberates and selects candidates to senior posts, given the rate of appointment of women to such roles and our intent on greater diversity overall. My Right Reverend friend spoke of the pipelines we now have of gifted, experienced women in ministry; there are real questions about why they are not being appointed to diocesan roles more quickly. (Bishop of Derby)

    Is it as coincidence that, the day after this debate – a debate which forced the Church of England to admit that women are still being blocked from appointments as bishops – the House of Bishops announced that they propose to end secret ballots at CNC meetings?

    Such changes might limit the likelihood of CNC stalemates if one or two members refuse to vote for any woman, however experienced she may be and however much she may match the diocese’s person profile.  But it does not deal with the deep discrimination that still pervades all the structures and processes of the Church of England. It took a peer who self-described as secular to make a “The emperor has no clothes” speech! Lord Scriven moved rapidly to what he sees as the heart of the issue:

    We need to look a bit further at why the established Church has been so slow to deal with this discrimination, to see whether it is really committed to equality for women within its structures and to ensure that it is really committed to dealing with the misogyny and believes in the true equality of women within its structures, which is the basis the Bill is established on…

    …Although both sex and religion or belief are protected characteristics under the Equality Act 2010, the law is clear that individuals cannot discriminate against their colleagues just because their religion says they should.

    However, that discrimination still exists within the established Church, with a whole system that allows this to happen. The language used to describe and hide it is almost poetic. The CofE calls it “mutual flourishing”. Does that not conjure up a warm and sunlit world, one of equal relationships where all sides are equal and can flourish and reach their full potential based on mutual respect regardless of their sex or who they are?

    In practice, it is far from that. There has been a total abdication of responsibility by the leaders of the established Church since 2014, when women bishops were agreed to by the General Synod. A system has been set up to appease the misogyny—a system that is more about keeping the Church of England together rather than one built on mutual respect and equality for all. It is a system that the present leadership of the Church of England encourages and supports. It is not mutual flourishing but a system of institutionalised misogyny.

    In practice, what “mutual flourishing” means is that individual churches can refuse to accept women as priests or vicars. The CofE also permits churches to reject the authority of a female bishop. So the state Church affirms women as equal while at the same saying that it is alright for some churches not to accept them. In fact, nearly 600 churches reject the authority of women and flock under the frocks of what are referred to as “flying bishops”. Individual churches are permitted to refuse female vicars and are given the right to be overseen by flying bishops who also oppose women’s ordination, instead of their local bishop, male or female, who ordains women.

    How can it be in 2024 that the state Church is still discriminating against women, who represent about two-thirds of its congregation and half the population of this country? Does the Leader of the House feel it is correct that, ultimately, the Church of England should end its exemption under the Equality Act and stop legitimising the theology that some of its churches use to limit women’s ministry and equality when this Parliament is giving time to ensure that women Bishops can sit in this House more equally as a matter of principle? The Church of England loves to give the impression that the battle over women’s ministry is all sorted now but let us be clear: there is a long way to go. (Lord Scriven)

    Not surprisingly, this speech then moved to question the right and value of twenty-six bishops sitting by right in the House of Lords. It’s a different question from the one being debated, but a church which continues to legislate for discrimination will find it much harder to justify any automatic presence in the House of Lords, should it wish to do so. The Church of England likes to present itself as an institution that is able to include diversity – but the lack of women appointed as diocesan bishops is just the tip of a whole iceberg of discriminatory assumptions and practices.

     

    Full debate recorded in Hansard: see this link

     

     

     

  • Is the Failure to Act on a Safeguarding Disclosure a Disciplinary Offence or Not?

    by ‘Graham’

    “Nobody can say it is not my fault. It is so absurd,” Archbishop Welby said. “To say, ‘I have heard about a problem but it was someone else’s job to report it’, that is not an acceptable human response, let alone a leadership response.

    “If you know a child is being abused, not to report it is simply wrong, for every human being.” IICSA, 20 March 2018.

    “These victims are rightly concerned that no one appears to have faced any sanction yet, when it is clear a number of Christians, clergy and lay, were made aware of the abuse in the 1980s and many learned in subsequent years. I have not yet received a list of names. I am told by Survivors that some facilitated Smyth’s move to Africa. I have made it clear that the National Safeguarding Team will investigate every clergy person or others within their scope of whom they have been informed who knew and failed to disclose the abuse.” Justin Welby, 20 May 2021.

     

    I am a victim of John Smyth QC. It is recorded in Bleeding for Jesus, by Andrew Graystone, that multiple people, “Christians, clergy and lay” knew of the abuse by John Smyth in the 1980s. I know the names of some who provided references for him to move to Africa. I have also read the draft Makin Review (under embargo) and read that 10 Bishops and three Archbishops had received the disclosure of his abuse by August 2013, including of course Justin Welby. And those are just the ones that Keith Makin has been able to identify.

    I have less of a beef with those who knew in the period after February 1982, when the abuse was uncovered, and this is not the focus of this blog. Smyth was stopped pretty quickly, and multiple efforts were made to find him a new home. My complaint about that period is that he could just set up boys’ camps again in Africa, with no supervision, no oversight, no intervention, despite so many being aware of his earlier abuse. Pretty soon a large number were told of further abuse. But, as I said, that period is not my focus.

    My problem concerns 2012 (when I came forward) and 2013, by which time safeguarding rules were codified, a nascent NST existed, and when Smyth should have been stopped and brought to justice. By 2013, the full horror of the abuse was plain to see.

    So, what do I make of the 2021 statement by Justin Welby, and what he meant by that: or at least what he thought he meant by that: “I have made it clear that the National Safeguarding Team will investigate every clergy person or others within their scope of whom they have been informed who knew and failed to disclose the abuse”?  Was it an echo, a reiteration, of his IICSA comments, or was it just because he could hardly say anything different ?

    And my worry is that I suggest he did think everyone who failed in 2012-13 would be “investigated”. The outside world, we victims, General Synod members, would all say “of course they will be investigated, that is obvious”. Yet, I think he so ignorant of practice on the ground by the National Safeguarding Team (NST), or so badly briefed, that what he actually said meant nothing of the sort.

    Keith Makin and NST have had the names for years, since 2017 at least. Keith Makin has under his Terms of Reference, “referred upstairs” where he believes people have failed. Yet, there is silence, inaction. We have no visible evidence of CDMs, we have no visible evidence of the removal of PTO from anyone. There has been a comment “wait for Makin” (and this was the answer from Justin Welby, when challenged directly whether he did fund John Smyth in Africa). But why? The Makin Review is an independent review, and the Church of England could do what they did to the Elliot Review: trash it, and say “he is independent, so we do not have to follow his recommendations”

    But why wait? The NST and the CofE have all the evidence they need to start their own investigation and disciplinary processes. Keith Makin has no power to start a CDM process. He may have uncovered evidence, and under his Terms of Reference, passed it on to the relevant authorities. But the CofE’s investigation and disciplinary processes can only be undertaken … by the CofE.

    So, what did Justin mean? Or think he meant? I think he tried to suggest that proper, detailed investigation of failings would be instigated. Yet there is absolutely no evidence this is the case. What I believe did happen is that NST asked an entirely different question – “is this person a current safeguarding risk?” – and have limited their investigation solely to this question. So, the failings in 1982 and 2012-13 are never investigated at all.

    But the Church must decide whether failings over safeguarding disclosures are actually a disciplinary offence or not. There are multiple examples where it is alleged that senior figures, including Archbishops, did not do what they might when they learned of abuse: from George Carey in the Peter Ball case, to Bishops in the Devamanikkam case. People knew about Mike (“it’s just Mike”) Pilavachi, and Iain Broomfield, and Jonathan Fletcher, and most recently the many clergy involved at Blackburn. And in each case, they did nothing, or at least not enough to stop the alleged abusers, to instigate the necessary investigations and Church disciplinary procedures.

    So, at the moment, as a Smyth victim, I have read of 13 Archbishops and Bishops who failed to act, yet have no evidence of a single sanction against any of them. The Church of England must codify, must publish, must make plain, the consequences of safeguarding failures around disclosure. Or just announce that it does not matter: that failures around disclosure are unfortunate but no more. But surely that is not what is intended?

    If failures around disclosure of abuse have no consequence, then the words of Justin at IICSA and in 2021 may just have been hot air.

  • Rounding up Sheep or Assembling Cats? Governance in the United Reformed Church and the Church of England

    by Revd Chantal Noppen, elected member of General Synod and National Coordinator, Inclusive Church

    This summer, I had the privilege of attending the General Assembly of the United Reformed Church (URC) as an ecumenical representative. Coming directly from the Church of England’s General Synod, I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the two experiences. This reflection offers a personal perspective on these two governance structures, focusing on their inclusivity, decision-making processes, and overall atmosphere. I have had a URC friend read it and their response has added some more comments, included in italics. I’d also like to make it clear that I love being on General Synod and value it immensely; these observations should not detract from that.

    Preparation and Initial Impressions

    Although I had limited prior knowledge of the URC, my background at the Cambridge Theological Federation introduced me to aspects of their worship and governance. I knew the URC had been more progressive in ordaining women, promoting lay leadership, and affirming LGBTQIA+ individuals, but I was curious about how their General Assembly would compare to the Church of England’s General Synod.

    Integration and Inclusivity

    If I were to sum up the URC’s General Assembly in one word, it would be ‘integration’. The URC makes a concerted effort to include diverse voices in their decision-making processes. This integration is evident in everything the assembly does, from the language used in worship to the application of technology and resources. The assembly had a noticeably more racially diverse, age-broad, and disability-aware approach than what I have observed elsewhere. Although there were no visible BSL interpreters, the effort to ensure inclusivity and accessibility was apparent. I have since learned that BSL signers have been provided in the past, but as feedback confirmed no-one was using them, it wasn’t economically sensible to continue. I am confident however that this expense would be willingly covered if the need arose.

    Unlike the Church of England, where youth engagement often feels more like a goal than a reality, the URC directly integrates young people into their assemblies. In the Church of England, we often talk about wanting to ‘hear the voice of young people’ and offer various schemes and projects focused on engaging them, but I’ve yet to be convinced that we are truly committed to this, as it would require a significant shift in the status quo and power dynamics. At the URC assembly, young people are fully present and just as involved and listened to as anyone else. They speak for themselves and are heard as confident, competent members of the assembly.

    More than any other aspect, this stayed with me as a valuable lesson for us in the Church of England, where changing the status quo often meets resistance. I hope the URC recognises the incredible resource they have in these young people and continues to invest in them generously.

    Decision-Making Processes

    One of the most striking differences between the two bodies is the decision-making process. At the URC Assembly, moderators invite members to use coloured cards to quickly gauge opinions on a topic. If there isn’t clear support, the topic is simply dropped. This method contrasts sharply with the Church of England’s lengthy debates over minor wording changes, which can often feel like filibustering. Additionally, the URC’s use of real-time updates on motion wording helps maintain clarity during discussions and is incredibly helpful from an accessibility point of view.

    It was fascinating to see and hear disagreements and alternative views being shared, considered, and decided upon in real time. The speed with which business and policy are addressed seemed far ahead of the CofE. However, the decisions themselves somehow felt a bit less weighty – perhaps because of the more informal feel.

    It would be naive to assume that the URC membership is homogeneous in its opinions; this is certainly not the case. However, there appears to be a strong sense of loyalty to the whole, especially when contrasted with the divisive rhetoric currently present in the Church of England. I later learned that when the topic of same-sex marriage, particularly regarding ministers, was raised, discussions reached an impasse – having already been rather vicious and damaging. Three opposing and distinct, yet valid, views were upheld. Rather than allowing this stalemate to cause further hurt, the URC imposed a seven-year moratorium on formal debates about the topic. This pause created space for personal conversations built on relationships, and when the topic was eventually revisited, it was able to be passed without adding further major trauma. As I understand it, the discussion in the 1990s was incredibly fraught and messy. It is also worth noting that the eventual conclusion of General Assembly was it should be a locally made decision, not one decided centrally. This is remarkably similar to what the CofE is trying to move towards around the introduction of PLF, that is being pushed back against as ‘too much’ from conservative wings.

    Reflecting on this, I can’t help but think of the Church of England’s experience with the Living in Love and Faith (LLF) resources, which were intended to foster open, respectful dialogue. Despite this opportunity, it feels as though we have fallen short. It’s not a simple matter, but one wonders how different things might be if the whole of the Church of England had actively engaged with these resources, focusing on listening and learning rather than defensiveness and division. Where might we be now if that had been the case?

    Leadership and Hierarchy

    Another notable difference is the URC’s approach to leadership roles. Unlike the Church of England, where positions such as bishops and archdeacons are permanent promotions, the URC appoints leaders for a fixed term before they return to regular ministry. This practice seems to reduce the emphasis on personal ambition and status, fostering a model of ministry more focused on service than career advancement.

    I learned that both the URC and the Methodist Church have broad memberships that include individuals with more evangelical or conservative views as well as those with more liberal perspectives. However, the influence of these groups differs from that in the Church of England. It often seems that substantially more resources and support are directed toward the conservative end of the spectrum in the CofE than in the middle. While I have no hard data to hand, it’s a widely acknowledged observation within the church community.

    Key Differences and Similarities

    Both the URC and the Church of England face similar challenges, such as resource allocation and ministerial support. However, the URC’s more collaborative and less hierarchical structure allows for a more unified approach to these issues. However, there was the same complaint about regional variances and unilateral diocesan policies leading to inconsistencies and a lack of equity.

    There is no electronic voting system at Assembly, so there is no way to track who has voted which way on specific items. I can see pros and cons to this, but it matches the overall emphasis on unity and shared investment in the URC. The Church of England is far more individually led and used to spotlighting specific voices and leaders. This is even demonstrated by the close-up camera shots of speakers with their names and numbers on the screen, as opposed to the topic being discussed. Apparently when electronic voting was tried it was a disaster. All critical votes that may be contentious are conducted by secret ballot, there were just none on this year’s agenda.

    The URC is substantially smaller and younger than the Church of England, which is reflected in a number of ways. I found the general atmosphere of pragmatic evolution to be quite inspirational, demonstrated in various initiatives, including the development of the iChurch resource to assist local churches with website development and database management—tasks that many churches struggle to manage internally.

    Personal Reflections

    My experience at the URC General Assembly was eye-opening. While I appreciate the Church of England’s structured approach and accountability mechanisms, I believe we could benefit from adopting some of the URC’s practices, especially those that foster unity and reduce unnecessary debate. However, the practice of offering the opportunity to ask clarifying questions of a motion and its report before it is debated was a simple but incredibly useful nuance. As our understanding and appreciation of neuro-divergent thinking grow, this approach would provide some much-needed clarity to discussions that I think all would benefit from.

    I found myself repeatedly impressed by the diversity of voices heard at General Assembly and the genuine lack of one or two people speaking at every possible opportunity. Speakers are not called by the chair; they simply head toward the mic when they wish to contribute. When a chair does offer gentle intervention, it seemed to be met with respect and acceptance, which is not always true of General Synod.

    However, during one discussion, an older gentleman made a rude, dismissive, and judgmental comment about the ordering of households and relationship statuses. I was saddened to hear it and surprised that it wasn’t challenged on the floor or from the podium. While I’ve heard worse or similar at Synod, I had come to expect better from my reformed peers, so that was rather disappointing. I know that I was not alone in this surprise and shock, and have been encouraged to hear specific pastoral support and follow-up was provided.

    Throughout General Assembly, times of worship and Bible study were woven more integrally than the bookend approach favoured at Synod. However, I think some of this is due to logistical differences and different expectations of worship. The theme of innovation that ran through the worship was especially interesting to consider from the perspective of a creatively minded Anglican who often operates ‘out of the box’, intentionally or otherwise. This often feels like an uncomfortable place to be and is a stark contrast to the reformed mindset that has evolution in its DNA and change written into its foundation.

    The final Bible study, led by Lisa Adejai from Christian Aid, captured much of what I had been reflecting on while also shifting my focus to the “now, next, and so then.” Her core message was an invitation to reimagine, reorder, and renew—a timely encouragement for someone like me, emerging from a challenging period of ministry.

    Lisa spoke passionately about the reordering of power that Jesus calls us to, urging us to broaden our horizons and reach out to the marginalized, challenging assumptions, and refusing to accept the status quo. She referenced a Ghanaian phrase meaning “go back and get it,” highlighting the importance of understanding our past to move forward effectively. As I consider the church’s ongoing discussions around racism, misogyny, homophobia, gender discrimination, and more, I’m struck by our struggle to truly acknowledge our mistakes and commit to doing better. Jesus’ commandment to love God, our neighbour, and ourselves remains central—if we truly lived by this love, our decisions and actions would bear more meaningful fruit.

    Lisa concluded by asking, “What is God calling you to reorder? What power are you being called to give away, share, or amplify in others? Where are you being called to reimagine?” These are questions worth sitting with in every church meeting, as we remain open to God’s guidance and transformation.

    Conclusion

    In case this all feels a bit ‘rose-tinted’, during more direct conversations, I heard some firsthand experiences of how the URC had fallen far short of their intentions and stated priorities around gender justice and pay/benefits provision. While both institutions can seek to silence dissenting voices, which often happen to be those of women, addressing this will perhaps happen more quickly in the smaller organisation. Attending Assembly also helped bring into focus the additional privilege and pressure we have as the state church. Do we consider this as well as we could, or do we prefer to use it as a prop and shield rather than an opportunity to catalyse society?

    I came away from General Assembly simultaneously in awe of certain aspects, like the integration of young people, the principle of taking a consensus and simply not discussing items that didn’t gather enough support, but also feeling a deep sense of relief that the system I “belong” to is a bit more clearly structured. I’m grateful for the transparency of our voting system and the possibility for there to be accountability and questions put to members over their voting decisions. I am heartened that, despite different approaches, both systems allow for a range of views to be presented but that no single person, or incredibly loud minority, can dictate, block or derail votes.

    I greatly valued the opportunity to gain insight into how another denomination is navigating contemporary issues. I think there is much we could learn from each other and I look forward to working more closely with reformed colleagues in the future.

  • Safeguarding: Who is in Charge?

    by ‘Graham’

    In the Wilkinson Review of the Independent Safeguarding Board, 30 November 2023, I was quoted as follows:

    “Everything in the Church of England falls between two stools. You’ve got the NSP, the NSSG, the SRG, the NST, the Archbishops’ Council, the House of Bishops, the Lead Bishop, Lambeth and individual dioceses and it allows everyone to say, ‘Well, it’s actually not my job,’ and decision after decision in the Church of England is made without anyone in control, without anyone saying, ‘Come on, enough’s enough.’” (Para 317).

    I was reminded of these words when reading about the shenanigans in Blackburn. There were multiple interested parties, multiple attempted interventions, but at the end of the day a process was undertaken that allowed a person to sue, and receive a payment. Nothing worked. There was no process, no policy, no disciplinary procedure, no forum, that allowed a comprehensive investigation and justice (whichever way it went) to be seen to be done.

    And I reflect on what all the bodies that I listed in the Wilkinson Review actually do. Who reports to whom? And who can make decisions? Where is the “Head of Safeguarding” (no such role exists) to ensure that fair process, natural justice and competence are delivered?

    Because everything falls between two stools; in fact, many more. And frequently it is not the Church of England who actually do anything. The Jonathan Fletcher Review: an outside agency, 31:8, appointed not by the CofE but by Emmanuel, Wimbledon. The Pilavachi case: an outside agent, Fiona Scolding KC, has been appointed by Soul Survivor. The Titus Trust Reviews: an outside agency, 31:8 again, appointed by Titus. The Scripture Union Review: an outside agent, Gill Camina, appointed by, guess who, Scripture Union. The investigation into Iain Broomfield, who led the Iwerne camps from 1987-2000, well, no one knows what happened there, and a group of alleged victims put out a stinging rebuke. Where was the Church of England in all of these?

    We know the CDM is largely discredited, but it is worth noting that in the cases of Jonathan Fletcher, Iain Broomfield, the fellow in Blackburn and Mike Pilavachi it is extremely unclear what process was undertaken under CDM, and justice was “not seen to be done”, certainly in the eyes of victims. The process that was in place, was not fit for purpose. “Learning Lessons Reviews” (a misnomer if there ever was one) have been replaced by “Safeguarding Practice Reviews”: toothless, neutered, never debated by General Synod. I mention them as it is telling that not a single Safeguarding Practice Review has been commissioned in the 13 months since they were approved in July 2023. Despite the pleading of the ISB11, and the continuous flood of abuse revelations, the CofE does not have a single current Review (Makin was under the old regime).

    Let us look at the ISB. Who was responsible for the flawed (it is claimed) Terms of Reference? Who was responsible for the paucity of resources? Who was responsible for the sudden closure? I will leave readers to look at the Wilkinson Report for some of the answers to those, but the cynical outside observer sees parties ducking and diving, and denying responsibility.

    The Makin Review is my biggest bugbear, as a victim of John Smyth, and as the victim who came forward almost 13 years ago. We still have no answers, no justice, no closure and I have written many times about that. But, I ask again and again, who is responsible? NST say it is an Archbishops’ Council commissioned review, and independent, so they cannot intervene. The AC say that oversight was delegated to NST. Does the NSP have a view? No idea. Does the NSSG have a view; no idea. Have the Lead Bishops ever taken an interest? Well, Joanne Grenfell has never replied to or even acknowledged a single email I have sent her. General Synod? Well, lots of questions, faux outrage, but nothing is done. Do the paymasters care? I shudder to think of the cost of lawyers to date, yet alone the payments to Keith Makin: and am outraged, incandescent, in the contrast with support for victims when the Redress Scheme is further delayed. So, the Makin Review can drift on at enormous expense, 1555 days late (as I write) and no one “owns it”, no one has held his feet to the fire, no one has taken responsibility.

    And where do victims go ? I am also quoted in the Wilkinson Review as follows:

    “….that there had been a number of circumstances in the last seven years where they had needed somewhere to go and had needed an independent body that provided oversight, authority and power within the Church of England…..” (para 260.2).

    As no one is “responsible” for the Makin Review, I have nowhere to go. No one to complain to. No one who will intervene. The ISB might have provided this for us, though I suspect had they intervened they would have been accused of exceeding their brief. But even the ISB lifeline was taken from us, and of course from Mr X and the ISB 11.

    What do I ask for? That the multiple layers of safeguarding bureaucracy are consolidated. The relationship between the NST, NSSG and NSP must be clarified. The responsibility for safeguarding which falls between General Synod, Archbishops’ Council, House of Bishops, all those myriad bodies, must be clarified. I would hope and pray that this can be an eventual outcome of the deliberations by Professor Alexis Jay. Though I add, the Response Group appears to be a toothless “talking shop”. The Chair, Lesley-Anne Ryder, has refused to engage with victims. Their consultation received feedback from just 11 victims: surely that reflects the lack of confidence and trust in the process. The ISB took almost two years to gain the trust of damaged, nervous, traumatised victims. Does the Response Group even want to gain our trust?

    The final thing I ask for is a prophetic voice. Someone to stand up and say “Enough is Enough”. It is not coming from the hand wringing Archbishops. It is not coming from the invisible Lead Bishops. It is not coming from the incompetent NST. I could not even name the Chair of the NSP and NSSG, neither body having crossed my path, over seven years after the Channel 4 exposé. Where is the leadership, the vision, the ambition? Where is the person who “gets it” and can blend a ruthless drive for change, and a compassion that will gain the trust of victims? A “Head of Safeguarding” might not be appropriate, but where in these plethora of organisation would they even sit?

    Until then, everything will fall between two stools. We have no Makin Review. There is paralysis over Christ Church, Oxford. There is chaos at Blackburn. The ISB has gone. The Lead Bishops are silent (as is Lambeth and “victims come first” Welby: yeah, yeah, yeah). General Synod is impotent. NST are dysfunctional.

    And victims are left by the side of the road.

  • Clergy Summer Quiz: the Answers!

    by Anon.

    Thanks to all who sent in answers to this year’s brainteasers. Our quiz received many interesting responses. But now to those all-important answers! If you haven’t yet had time to do the quiz, just go back to it now and see how you do.

    1.  What is the approximate population of your diocese? How many parishes does your diocese have? How many Churches? What percentage identify as Christian? What percentage of Christians are committed in terms of a fraction (i.e., a bit; quite a bit; sometimes; depends on what else is happening this weekend; a lot; “I’m retired”; etc)?

    ANSWER: These figures are all available in the Church of England Yearbook. We don’t give any points for copy-and-paste responses.

    To the nearest 100,000. how many tea lights were used in your diocese last year?

    ANSWER: Only Sodor and Man score under 1,500,000. Over 50% of dioceses score more than 3,000,000. An important indication of the likely number can be found in the most recent Annual Report of the Church Commissioners in their section on new derivatives ventures. Please note that candles do not count as fossil fuels under the policy adopted by General Synod, as nobody ever got warmed up by tealights.

    2.  How many stipendiary clergy are working in the diocese?

    ANSWER: (c) that’s a problem for the Archdeacon (obviously)

    3.  The solemn declaration made before your ordination or first licensing in the diocese that “In public prayer and administration of the sacraments I will use only the form prescribed in the Book of Common Prayer or a form authorised by lawful authority and none other” means

    ANSWER: it should be (e), ‘What it says’, but we affirm the Anglican Via Media principle in ultimately determining such matters, and recognise that clergy must find a way between the letter of the law and pastoral pragmatism.

    4. True or false, with extra points for naming these authorities: 

    (a) ‘The Church of England is a device for allowing agnostics to remain in the church’   

    ANSWER: True; the quote is from Yes, Prime Minister, with thanks to Sir Humphrey.

    (b) ‘One good thing about being an Anglican is that it doesn’t interfere with your politics or religion’  

    ANSWER: True; Richard Holloway.

    5.  “I can hold my hand on my heart and honestly say that I have obtained a faculty when making changes in a church or in the vicinity of a church”:

    ANSWER: We deducted a point for anyone ticking option (d), ‘Obtained a what?’, but affirm the Via Media principle for answers (a) to (c).

    6.  An Anglican clergyperson requesting permission from the bishop to conduct a burial service for a Baptist should expect the following reply from the Archdeacon:

    ANSWER: (a) “I am currently out of the office…if your matter is urgent please…” (obviously)

    7.  When I see the number 1662, I know that this refers to…

    ANSWER: We are happy to confirm that all the options (a) to (o) are correct. However, we have been asked to make some important corrections and clarifications:

    (e) in inches, normal social distancing at a Cof E BCP 8 a.m.: while this is correct, as readers have pointed out, this is the minimum distance in such services. All eye contact should be avoided, and handshakes are prohibited before, during, or after the service. These were Cranmer’s original rubrics.

    (f) the predicted number of stipendiary clergy left remaining within the CofE by 2034, that being the 500th anniversary of the creation of the national church by Henry VIII (who started it all off with a change to the doctrine of marriage): correct, but as the doctrine of marriage was changed in 1534 by Henry VIII, this has some bearing on how LLF is debated by those claiming the CofE has only ever upheld the ‘traditional’ doctrines of marriage (whatever they are). Henry VIII was married six times. Two marriages were terminated by divorce, one wife died naturally, and one wife survived him. The remaining two were beheaded. The LLF Facilitation Group has yet to consider execution as a means of preserving the traditional teaching on marriage and, though drastic, it plainly avoids divorce so could be commended. However, a working party is looking into this. Henry was the Supreme Head of the CofE, as are his descendants. We did not consider James I’s intimate relationships with other men (e.g., Somerset, Villiers, Lennox and Buckingham, etc) as important, as the king still had eight children by his wife, Anne of Denmark. Clergy completing this quiz should not infer that just because James I shared a bed with many of his male favourites and kissed and caressed them in public, he was in any way bisexual or homosexual.

    The important thing to remember is that as Supreme Head of the CofE James I didn’t divorce his wife, Anne. So after Henry VIII had changed the doctrine of marriage there were no further changes – until Charles II, Mary II, William III, Queen Anne and probably others. But as they (mainly) produced legitimate heirs, LLF does not propose to take a view on what the Supreme Governor and Head of the CofE have got up to after office hours in their spare time.

    After all, Iwerne Camps were full of Real Men, some of whom were married, and some “single for the Lord” (and for the boys), so we don’t need to debate the finer points of marital fidelity in the CofE if the doctrine of marriage is still being upheld. It has always been clear in the CofE. Are we all clear?

    (i) the number of people likely to be employed at your Diocesan HQ, if current trends continue. (Please don’t worry, as this expense is fully covered. That is what the Diocesan Parish Quota Share is for): correct, though I have been asked to point out that as most Bishops consider the ‘fundamental unit’ of the CofE to be the diocese, it really doesn’t matter if there are no employees further afield outside Diocesan HQ. The House of Bishops have responded: “That’s your problem, not one that central staffing can resolve (although we could always employ another Diocesan Strategy Enabler or Resource Advisor for Growth to look into your issues and concerns, and report back in 2032?). The new mission statement for all dioceses is ‘keep growing staff numbers at central HQ, and let the peasants eat their brioche’. We are all striving for that. If you are not, chances are you will not be replaced when you leave/retire/are unlucky enough not to have your PTO renewed, etc….”.

    (k) the most difficult posture in the Anglican Kama Sutra, reserved only for male clergy who cannot in conscience accept women priests or bishops. Please note, this requires four participants, with each person required to assume the pose of the relevant number. Due to the potential hazards of this position, it should only be attempted after a risk assessment has been undertaken, and a PEV must be present at all times during the actual act: apologies to those who found this question difficult. We should have added that during this positional enactment, no mobile phones or recording devices are permitted. However, the PEV is equipped with a stopwatch, so each participant has the same amount of time in each position. We should also have reminded readers of the ‘safe word’ or phrase in the event of something going wrong, or someone feeling uncomfortable. For those ordained before 2012, the safe phrase is “motion to move to next business”. Those ordained more recently must audibly exclaim “Mutual Flourishing!”. Both phrases bring any action to an immediate halt, and result in complete disengagement.

    (m) the number of complaints made against the Secretary General of the Archbishops’ Council and NST last year. Correct, but I am also asked to point out that due to the high volume of complaints, and the necessity of all these being handled internally by hand-picked members of NCI’s or the Archbishops’ Council, the whole business of a complaints policy regarding senior personnel has been rendered unworkable. The Secretary General has asked me to say that because no complaints are ever upheld, and due to the time-consuming fuss of going through the motions of a policy and process, there will now be a moratorium on all future complaints. From hereon, all complaints will be treated as deliberate nuisance, and all complainants will be treated as vexatious litigants, liable for counter-litigation and costs if there are any complaints about the ineffectiveness of complaints. So, if you don’t want to be hit with a huge legal bill, don’t ever complain. Simple.

    (n) the number of Mission Enablers employed in the CofE: correct, though probably underestimated.

    (o) the coded number of the Beast in Revelation, according to my colleagues at our local HTB Plant. Apparently if you take the two 6s away, then join the remaining numbers of 1 and 2 together to make a 12, then divide the 12 by the numbers remaining (which is 2), that equals 6. So, the 1662 BCP is actually a code for 666 as set out in Revelation 13. A series of talks is now available on the God Channel and YouTube. And there are books. Correct: and you have been warned.

     

  • Clergy Summer Quiz

    by Anon.

    1.  What is the approximate population of your diocese? How many parishes does your diocese have? How many Churches? What percentage identify as Christian? What percentage of Christians are committed in terms of a fraction (i.e., a bit; quite a bit; sometimes; depends on what else is happening this weekend; a lot; “I’m retired”; etc)? To the nearest 100,000 how many tea lights were used in your diocese last year?

    2.  How many stipendiary clergy are working in the diocese?

    (a) around 190

    (b) around 230

    (c) that’s a problem for the Archdeacon

    (d) about half

    3.  The solemn declaration made before your ordination or first licensing in the diocese that “In public prayer and administration of the sacraments I will use only the form prescribed in the Book of Common Prayer or a form authorised by lawful authority and none other” means

    (a) nothing

    (b) “Not a lot, but you’ll like it!” – (Paul Daniels)

    (c) you may download anything from the internet and use it after attaching a bogus copyright licence number

    (d) you should remember not to use such material when the bishop visits

    (e) what it says

    4. True or false, with extra points for naming these authorities: 

    (a) ‘The Church of England is a device for allowing agnostics to remain in the church’   

    (b) ‘One good thing about being an Anglican is that it doesn’t interfere with your politics or religion’  

    5.  “I can hold my hand on my heart and honestly say that I have obtained a faculty when making changes in a church or in the vicinity of a church”:

    (a) always, but sometimes afterwards

    (b) always, but I would be lying a bit

    (c) it was like that when I came here, honest

    (d) obtained a what?

    6.  An Anglican clergyperson requesting permission from the bishop to conduct a burial service for a Baptist should expect the following reply from the Archdeacon:

    (a) “I am currently out of the office…if your matter is urgent please…”

    (b) go ahead if the deceased has been baptised in the name of the Trinity

    (c) go ahead as long as you use the Anglican Rite

    (d) go ahead, bury as many of them as you can

    7.  When I see the number 1662, I know that this refers to:

    (a) the authorised Elizabethan Book of Common Prayer, which was actually published in the Stuart dynasty, after England had executed a monarch, been a republic, and otherwise decided that Puritans and Catholics should be deported overseas

    (b) the pin code for the Archdeacon’s Swiss Bank account

    (c) the key-safe code for the front door keys to Archbishop Welby’s private Swiss Chalet (second on the right, after Ken Costa’s)

    (d) the number of people working for the NST and safeguarding across CofE NCIs (though this is double counting, as most already work in Legal Affairs or Communications)

    (e) in inches, normal social distancing at a Cof E BCP 8 a.m.

    (f) the predicted number of stipendiary clergy left remaining within the CofE by 2034, that being the 500th anniversary of the creation of the national church by Henry VIII (who started it all off with a change to the doctrine of marriage)

    (g) the annual value of your clergy pension, in pounds sterling, in 2034, after deductions and allowances have been made for all current Strategic Development Fund disbursements

    (h) your monthly clerical stipend, for now

    (i) the number of people likely to be employed at your Diocesan HQ, if current trends continue. (Please don’t worry, as this expense is fully covered. That is what the Diocesan Parish Quota Share is for)

    (j) the number of new lay-led discipling churches that your Diocese promised it would create in order to obtain the £10 million grant from the Strategic Development Fund

    (k) the most difficult posture in the Anglican Kama Sutra, reserved only for male clergy who cannot in conscience accept women priests or bishops. Please note, this requires four participants, with each person required to assume the pose of the relevant number. Due to the potential hazards of this position, it should only be attempted after a risk assessment has been undertaken, and a PEV must be present at all times during the actual act

    (l) the average number of days for conducting an NST safeguarding ‘Lessons Learned Review’ such as Makin, etc. Please note, when the 1662 days are completed, the clock returns to zero and the review restarts from scratch, as there will be brand new elections to the General Synod

    (m) the number of complaints made against the Secretary General of the Archbishops’ Council and NST last year. (Editor: I’ve been asked to clarify all were thoroughly investigated and either resolved informally or not upheld)

    (n) the number of Mission Enablers employed in the CofE

    (o) the coded number of the Beast in Revelation, according to my colleagues at our local HTB Plant. Apparently if you take the two 6s away, then join the remaining numbers of 1 and 2 together to make a 12, then divide the 12 by the numbers remaining (which is 2), that equals 6. So, the 1662 BCP is actually a code for 666 as set out in Revelation 13. A series of talks is now available on the God Channel and YouTube. And there are books. Don’t say we didn’t warn you. Have a lovely summer break.

     

  • The Luxury of Marriage

    by Helen King, lay member of General Synod for Oxford Diocese and Editor of Via Media 

    That Southwark Diocese invitation to couples with ‘healthy’ marriages to come away to a luxurious hotel for a weekend to strengthen their marriage further… It’s been doing the rounds on social media and attracting a range of comments, from outrage at ‘healthy’ to surprise at the gap between ‘luxurious’ and the values of the gospel, to suggestions that the ad makes it sound like a swingers’ weekend, to questions about the weird typo where the hotel is described as ‘near’ without saying ‘where’. Since I wrote this blog post this morning, Anna and the Comms team from the Diocese have generously responded to the various complaints (including the typo) saying on X/Twitter “We recognise that some of the language used was clumsy and unhelpful.” All credit there.

    Full disclosure: I write this as someone who took the Marriage Course in 2004 and who has subsequently co-led it. I think it’s a very good course (OK, there are some cringeworthy moments, but they’re the exceptions) and my husband and I both found it very useful in different ways. When he saw the Southwark invitation and its typo, he did wonder whether the omission of the venue was to stop those of us who’ve done the Marriage Course showing up in the hotel bar and staging a really high quality argument in the style of Session 2 ‘Resolving Conflict’.

    Now, I’m not in one, but I entirely understand that clergy marriages are particularly challenged. I don’t know if that’s worse, or better, or just different in the situation where both partners are clergy, but maybe the modified four sections of the Marriage Course are adjusted according to that further potential dynamic. It is interesting, though, that the Southwark version is led by two couples where the man is the clergyperson. I wonder whether the national version also allows couples where both are clergy, or where the woman is the clergyperson, to be leaders?

    When we ran the marriage course, it was explicit in the course materials that this was for ‘couples’; whether or not they were married was not an issue. That is still stated here: “The Marriage Course is for couples who are married or have been living together for more than two years”. However, other websites put it differently. HTB’s site has “designed to help married couples invest in their relationship and build a strong marriage” (online course and in person). Has this been tightened up since we took the course?

    Time for an even fuller disclosure: we weren’t married when we took the Marriage Course. The Pre-Marriage Course wasn’t available locally so we asked the local independent church (offshoot of a Baptist church) if it would be OK to join and they couldn’t see why not. After all, my husband has been married before, just not to me… and it was my idea to do it, since marrying for the first time in one’s late 40s is quite a step to take. And Session 6 is on ‘Good Sex’. Well, there we are. If you aren’t doing the practicals, you can at least get up to speed on the theory elements.

    And the issue of sex brings me to the most disturbing point. When we ran the Marriage Course here, there weren’t any lesbian or gay couples in our church who wanted to take part. Had there been, we would have welcomed them. But the helpers, who served and cleared up the meal, by chance included lesbian and gay people, and they could watch the videos on the big screen. They didn’t raise any objections, and they said they found it all very helpful,

    But, as usual in the current state of the Church of England with its claims for a “radical new Christian inclusion” which don’t play out on the ground, there’s a significant group of people who are excluded from the Southwark Diocese weekend: clergy in same-sex civil partnerships or marriages. Clergy same-sex marriage is of course currently deemed Not OK, and those clergy who have entered such marriages are told they won’t be licensed to minister once they leave their current job. This has already deprived the church of people in good and faithful (and ‘healthy’?) relationships, who are good priests. But those in CPs are, of course, at least officially, supposed to be fine, because there’s no sex in CPs – at least, not according to the Church of England. So maybe it wouldn’t be a smart move to offer people in CPs the Marriage Course ‘Good Sex’ session. But that’s only one of the seven sessions, and the Southwark Diocese weekend is just doing four out of seven.

    So, would a clergyperson in a (perfectly valid) same-sex civil partnership be allowed to attend the Southwark ‘luxurious’ weekend where their ‘healthy’ relationship could be strengthened further?

    Apparently not. This suggests that the word ‘healthy’ is doing two different jobs: it’s making the point that, if your marriage is in difficulty, you should be looking for help from someone who specialises in this situation rather than rocking up to the luxurious hotel, but it also seems to be carrying the suggestion that only straight relationships can be ‘healthy’.

    When the exclusion of same-sex couples was stated on  X/Twitter, my fellow Synod member Benjamin John commented “But clergy can’t enter same sex marriages”? I asked him whether he would support those who enter same sex CPs having “events like this to help strengthen the relationships of such clergy?”

    He replied, “No”.

    Well, there you have it. Lesbian and gay and same-sex attracted clergy, the Church of England fully and explicitly recognises your civil partnerships, entered into according to the law of the land but also in faith and hope and commitment, but you can’t attend a weekend to help keep your relationship strong – and at least one member of Synod wouldn’t support anything that was of benefit to your relationship.

     

     

     

  • How the Church of England Accidentally Abolished The Sermon on the Mount (and Nobody Even Noticed)

    by Michael Hampson, a published author devoting his early-retirement from parish ministry to producing practical resources for busy clergy and lay-led congregations, beginning with the weekly lectionary resource Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud, ssra.uk

    We know from LLF (and the ordination of women, and the safeguarding crisis, and countless other examples) that the Church of England, especially in Synod, is very good at pursuing secondary details, to the point of absurdity or worse, and very bad at seeing the bigger picture, very bad at seeing the perspective of the people actually affected, very bad at seeing the perspective of the ordinary faithful lay person in the pew, and very bad indeed at seeing the perspective of the ordinary person walking past outside.

    Reading the Bible from the lectern, during the main Sunday morning service of the week, is something the Church of England really should be able to manage. But somehow, in 1997, the Church of England managed to accidentally abolish The Sermon on the Mount.

    Churches all over the world have been adopting the same universal Sunday lectionary since it was first published as Lectionary for Mass (LFM) in 1969 – because it’s superb, not least in its clarity and simplicity. The main programme for the year runs from 7 January to 26 November, reading through one gospel and a series of epistles each year, on a three-year cycle. An Old Testament reading each Sunday helps illustrate the gospel reading for the day. The main programme pauses for a fifteen-week Easter series from Lent 1 to Trinity Sunday, which includes themed readings through Lent, and after Easter has readings from Acts, Revelation, and more epistles. John is read in sections during the Year of Mark, and during the Easter series. A Christmas series, from Advent Sunday to The Epiphany, completes the programme. The Church of England was late to the party in only adopting this Sunday lectionary in 1997 – long after most of the rest of the Anglican Communion, and the other main denominations in the UK and across the world.

    As more and more denominations adopted what is essentially the same Sunday lectionary, each one enriched it with their own variations and additional options. The “common” in Common Lectionary (1983) and in Revised Common Lectionary (RCL, 1992) means “common” amongst protestants (attempting to bring increasing diversity back together), not “in common” with the catholic original; even so, very few denominations use “pure” RCL as published. But none deviates as far from “pure” RCL as the Church of England. The Church of England tinkered with RCL so much that it actually managed to abolish the Sermon on the Mount.

    Year A of the three year cycle is the year of Matthew. Chapters 3 to 25 are read in sequence on the Sundays from 7 January to 26 November. The Sermon on the Mount is the vital, fundamental context for all that follows in the gospel for the year. As Matthew chapters 5 to 7, it is read on the six Sundays beginning 28 January, known as Sundays 4 to 9 of the main programme, or Sundays 4 to 9 in Ordinary Time, or Sundays 4 to 9 after Epiphany.

    For every possible date of Easter, the Beatitudes are read before Lent intervenes. For every actual date of Easter for the rest of this century, we shall hear the next reading as well: salt and light, the law and the prophets (not abolished but fulfilled), and a call to a righteousness that exceeds that of the scribes and the Pharisees. And in the next two occurrences of Year A – 2026 and 2029 – we shall also hear the introduction to the great theme, “you have heard it said – but I say to you”: in 2026, and in 2029, there will be three readings from Matthew 5 before Lent.

    But in the Church of England, in 2026, and in 2029, there will be none.

    In fact, there will be no readings at all from Matthew 5 before Lent in the Church of England until 2038 – fourteen years from now.

    And even then, in 2038, the Church of England’s selection will not include the Beatitudes.

    The Beatitudes are not set to be read before Lent in the Church of England, even as an option, ever.

    The Church of England has managed to adopt the principle of reading through Matthew, in sequence, every three years, but almost never with any part of the Sermon on the Mount included in the right place, and absolutely never with the Beatitudes included in the right place.

    For what it’s worth, the Beatitudes are permitted as an alternative in early November, for those who choose to interrupt the systematic reading of the gospel again, for All Saints Sunday – the Beatitudes there, of course, demoted from being a revolutionary challenge to the living at the beginning of the year, to being a sweet eulogy for the departed at the end – and even then only as an option.

    It is a quirk of the LFM original that there is provision for 55 Sundays each year instead of 53 – and most years can only accommodate 52. Every extra option that is added then threatens to squeeze out yet another ‘ordinary’ Sunday. And no church has added more options than the Church of England – which has also made many of them compulsory. They all do violence to the fundamental principles of the universal lectionary, but none more so than those which combine to abolish the Sermon on the Mount. First, the Transfiguration is moved out of Lent, presumably for being insufficiently gloomy, and placed on the last Sunday before Lent instead. Then Creation Sunday (remembered fondly from ASB’s quirky Ninth Sunday before Christmas) is placed, for no particular reason at all, on the Second Sunday before Lent. In the 1990s there was a brief obsession with Candlemas that we daren’t let go, so there goes the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany; or for those who choose not to mark Candlemas in Year A (it is made compulsory only in Year C), we insist again, in Year A, on the Wedding at Cana, even though the Church of England alone has already insisted on having it on slightly different Epiphany Sundays in both Year B and Year C. And that completes the great offence: by squeezing three additional Sundays out of the variable gap between The Epiphany and Lent, for truly ‘secondary’ reasons, the Church of England has abolished the Sermon on the Mount completely until 2038, and the Beatitudes for ever.

    And this is what happens when you don’t keep your eye on the main thing that actually matters, while being distracted by secondary details; when you lose sight of the bigger picture, when you forget the perspective of the ordinary faithful lay person in the pew, when you become distracted by clerical obsessions and forget, however briefly, about the millions of people out there in the rain who need to hear the truth spoken by Jesus of Nazareth on a windy hillside in Palestine: for the sake of secondary details, however worthy, you accidentally abolish the Sermon on the Mount.

    And more than a quarter of a century later, I’m not convinced that anybody has actually noticed.

    2025 is the year of Luke, Year C. Easter is late: there will be eight Sundays – almost two months – between The Epiphany and Lent, presenting an excellent opportunity to enter into the themes of the gospel for the year. Across those eight Sundays, there’s the opportunity to read, in sequence, from Luke chapters 2 to 6, of the prophecy spoken over the infant Christ by Simeon; of the 12-year-old Jesus confounding the teachers in temple; of Jesus reading from Isaiah in the synagogue in Nazareth, and being rejected there; of the call of the first disciples; and then three readings from the Sermon on The Plain.

    You could look at the various options offered in the Common Worship Principal Service Lectionary – the one that abolished the Sermon on the Mount – and eventually work out that the maximum number of readings permitted from the above selection is just four, and not even in the right order. Alternatively, you could use a little bit of the local discretion that the Church of England surely still allows, and revert instead to the core principles of the universal lectionary. Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud, which will still give you the Sermon on the Mount in 2026, and 2029, will also give you that eight-week series from Luke between The Epiphany and Lent in 2025. It’s about being focussed, without secondary distraction, on the task of reading the scriptures from the lectern during the main Sunday morning service of the week. It’s about being in harmony with the global church. It’s about ordinary Christianity, for ordinary churches, on the ordinary Sundays of the year.

    In a church which can’t do LLF, or safeguarding, or the ordination of women, properly, we might at least use a Sunday lectionary that “prioritises the systematic reading of the gospels and epistles for the year, reducing interruptions and omissions to a minimum” – and doesn’t accidentally abolish the Sermon on the Mount.

    The SSRA lectionary and all associated resources are available free online at ssra.uk

  • Celibacy and Conscience

    by Professor Morwenna Ludlow, a historian, theologian and priest, specialising in historical theology. She is Professor of Christian Theology at the University of Exeter and Canon Theologian at Exeter Cathedral

    The question of how Christians understand celibacy has not gone away. Recent debates over Living and Love and Faith (LLF) in the July 2024 sessions of the General Synod of the Church of England show that. But this time, the issue of celibacy seemed to me to be tied to the question of the protection of conscience. It’s this connection I want to unpick here.

    In our General Synod debates, I continue to be moved by the testimonies of those who speak about their conviction that they are called to a life of celibacy. (These have, so far as I recall, all been speakers who have also stated they are sexually attracted to those of the same sex.[1] I would love also to hear testimony about the vocation of celibacy from heterosexual Christians!) I do not think that I am in position to question their sense of vocation. In good conscience, that is not my call to make. As a heterosexual woman in a long, happy and fulfilling marriage, which began with a ceremony in my parish church, there is especially an imperative on me not to be too quick in my judgment.

    Where I baulk, however, is when I hear some claim that their conscience should determine not just their own, but other people’s behaviour. There are two related ideas here. First, there is the idea that a conscientious restraint on one person’s part should be universalised to a demand for restraint by all who find themselves in a similar position – in this case, the idea that all lesbian and gay Christians should commit to celibacy. But, as I argued in an earlier blog, the church’s consistent, scriptural and traditional teaching (i.e. doctrine) of celibacy is that it should be a freely willed response to God’s call, not a demand placed on all. Second, there is the idea – put forward notably by the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) – that the consciences of those who hold the conservative position should be protected by the provision of “a permanent structural rearrangement resulting in visible differentiation” from the rest of the Church of England.[2]

    But this second idea seems to me to involve the unexamined movement between several related positions:

    (a) In good conscience, person x believes that they can neither have an active sexual relationship outside heterosexual marriage, nor take positive steps which would condone or welcome such relationships (e.g. like offering the Prayers of Love and Faith for same-sex couples);

    (b) The conscience of x is troubled by those in their church who do have an active sexual relationship outside heterosexual marriage, or who take positive steps which would condone or welcome such relationships;

    (c) Person x has the right for their conscience to be protected from being troubled in this way.

    Points (a) and (b) are statements of fact; point (c) makes an ethical demand. In brief, I certainly think that the church and its members should acknowledge (a) by ensuring that no-one has to act against their conscience with respect either to their own intimate relationships or in offering prayers of blessing for others (and the current proposals are emphatic on this point). I also think that it would be wise for those like me to recognise the depth of feeling surrounding point (b): I may disagree with the conservative position, but I need to acknowledge the way these questions are bound up with profound aspects of faith like the interpretation of Scripture and understandings of holiness. I can acknowledge the depth of hurt, while considering its cause to rest on a misunderstanding of the gospel. Nevertheless, it is possible to recognise point (b), without conceding the demand in (c). The question is: precisely what purchase should troubled consciences have on the rest of the church? 

    It might be helpful here to reflect briefly on the role of conscience in theological ethics.[3] Broadly speaking, the Reformed tradition has been cautious about the role of conscience seen as a natural faculty because conscience, like other faculties, has been impaired by the fall. My conscience is subject to distortion by pride, selfishness and lack of attention to the other, especially those others who are vulnerable. At best my conscience can skew my moral judgment; far worse, it can become an instrument of ‘godless self-justification’ as I put my ‘personal innocence’ above my responsibility for my neighbour.[4] For this reason, theologians in the Reformed tradition see conscience not so much as a natural faculty but as that point of encounter between God and myself in the time and place I find myself in, in the world. Conscience then becomes the recognition, through grace, of God’s demand on me – or, to put it another way, the discernment of God’s call to be who God wants me to be right here and right now. This call might be addressed to me as an individual or to a community – the church.

    But what if we disagree? This question is sharp because the possession of a troubled conscience is not unique to those holding the conservative position on LLF. My conscience is deeply troubled by the fact that I am not just part of, but I am a priest in a church which I believe not to be including LGBTQIA+ people as I believe it ought. My conscience is troubled by the church’s treatment of people who are very dear to me. My conscience is troubled by the fact that, as a married heterosexual priest, I am part of a system which treats me better than it treats many LGBTQIA+ priests.

    So where might we look to resolve our disagreement on conscience? Reference is sometimes made by conservative evangelicals to Romans 14:14-15 and 1 Corinthians 8, where Paul insists that the conscience of ‘weaker’ believers to be protected. I am not sure that reference to this passage is helpful for our current disagreements. The issue in Romans and 1 Corinthians concerns beliefs circulating about the effects of eating certain kinds of food: some believers thought that eating food sacrificed to idols (or food which might be thought to have been sacrificed to idols) would imperil their salvation. But Paul is clear that he thinks that these ‘weaker brethren’ are wrong in their belief: ‘Hence, as to the eating of food offered to idols, we know that “no idol in the world really exists” and that “there is no God but one.” …. “It is not everyone, however, who has this knowledge. Since some have become so accustomed to idols until now, they still think of the food they eat as food offered to an idol, and their conscience, being weak, is defiled’ (1 Cor. 8:4-7). So any use of these passages to urge the protection of one’s position as a weaker sibling is implicitly acknowledging that one might be wrong, whilst also placing a demand on oneself to protect the conscience of those whom one believes to be wrong. Secondly, these passages are about what kinds of food are permissible, which is very different from questions of how to treat our LGBTQIA+ sisters and brothers. Thirdly, Paul begins Romans 14 with an absolutely explicit call for mutual compassion: ‘Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat, for God has welcomed them.’ Fourthly, Paul seems to be addressing issues in local communities, not making pronouncements for the whole church. In essence, the current proposals from the House of Bishops already allow for our ‘weaker’ siblings, in that they clearly allow priests and communities who do not wish to use the Prayers of Love and Faith not to use them.

    Where else might we look to learn about conscience? Because the term ‘conscience’ (suneid?sis) does not appear in the gospels we are perhaps in danger of leaving Jesus out of our accounts. If conscience is understood in God’s call to me, perhaps I should reflect on the way in which Jesus’ words frequently jolt his hearers’ out of their comfortable assumptions about their own virtue (the rich young man, those bringing the woman accused of adultery) or highlight the ever-present danger of hypocrisy and pride (the Sermon on the Mount). (I deliberately use ‘I’ here, for the danger of self-righteousness lies on both ‘sides’ of the debate.) Such encounters explain why theologians in the Reformed tradition write of conscience not as a natural faculty, but as the discernment of God’s demand on us. Conscience in this sense does not come ready-packaged; rather ‘individual moral judgement requires moulding by the believing community and its educative, pastoral, sacramental, disciplinary and therapeutic practices’.[5] This includes our reading and reflection on Scripture and a prayerful deepening of our understanding of the world. On this understanding, conscience cannot be something to be protected; rather, we are called to expose our consciences – to the gospel, to Jesus’ uncomfortable call on us, and to the messy realities of our complicated world.

    By contrast, I am hearing calls from conservative evangelicals for their consciences to be protected. These calls amount in some cases to the demand to be protected from being in full communion with those who are using PLF or who are in same-sex marriages – as if being in full communion places too great a strain on their conscience. This seems to me to be in danger of treating conscience the wrong way. Far from being the place of encounter with the call of Jesus Christ on my life, this view of conscience seems to treat it as a thing of holiness to be polished and protected. This could be understood in two ways (and I suspect that both are in play). First, conscience is understood as a pure thing to be saved from taint. Underlying this are ideas of impurity, which so often creep into Christian discussions of sex – especially when it’s women or LGBTQIA+ people whose sexual activity we are discussing. Does the idea of protecting one’s conscience (‘keeping one’s conscience clean’) presume that in fact all sexual activity, and especially sexual pleasure, is dirty – which is why it must be contained in (heterosexual) marriage and, if at all possible, redeemed by the birth of children? Second, conscience is understood as a fortress to be defended from attack, ‘that inmost citadel of the personality, where the self is… king of its own castle, uncorrupted by the compromises and pressures of the crowd’.[6] On this understanding, the exposure of the self to the ‘crowd’ imperils its very identity.

    Both understandings of why the conscience needs to be protected – a holy thing to be preserved from taint, a fortress to be protected from attack – help explain why feelings are so raw. But neither seem to me to reflect a good theological understanding of conscience as that point of encounter between God and myself. If attention to conscience means responding to Christ’s call on us, I don’t think that God wants us to focus on preserving our holiness – at least, not holiness understood in this narrow sense of protection from taint. God’s holiness does not withdraw from the reality of the world but is immersed in it. Neither do I believe that we need to preserve our identity from attack, for our identity has a sure foundation in our baptism in Jesus Christ.

    God’s call to holiness, it seems to me, calls on us to step into that crowd outside the castle walls, that place where Jesus walked and talked and prayed and ate. Sometimes that means we have to eat with people who disagree with us on issues so painful that our hearts are raw. But if my conscience is found in my encounter with Christ, it is formed precisely in my encounter with all those whom he came to love.

     

    Notes

    [1] I am trying to echo the language they themselves have used in recognition that, while many are happy to identify as LGBTQIA+, for others this is difficult.

    [2] See https://ceec.info/keepingfaith/: “What does the CEEC suggest as a way forward? CEEC remains committed to the highest degree of unity possible within the truth and doctrine of the Church of England. However, we believe that the current proposals will prevent us from walking together and promote disunity, even schism. It is clear that the strength of feeling amongst parties with differing convictions indicates that we have to find a better way forward. CEEC will continue to advocate a settlement, without theological compromise, based on a permanent structural rearrangement resulting in visible differentiation.”

    [3] I approach this topic from the perspective of the Reformed tradition, because that is where the most vocal defenders of the conservative position seem to be speaking from. The issue is treated somewhat differently by ethicists in other traditions. The authors I cite on the topic of conscience should not be assumed to agree with my position on sexual ethics.

    [4] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2009), 278, 276.

    [5] John Webster, ‘God and Conscience’, in The Doctrine of God and Theological Ethics, ed. Alan J. Torrance and Michael Banner (London: Bloomsbury T & T Clark, 2006), 152.

    [6] Henry Chadwick, Some Reflections on Conscience: Greek, Jewish and Christian (London: Council of Christians and Jews, 1968), p. 5, quoted by Webster, 152.