ViaMedia

Author: Jayne Ozanne

  • Solidarity, Oppression and the Church of England

    by Dr Charlie Bell, Fellow in Medicine at Girton College Cambridge and ordinand at St Augustine’s College of Theology


    ‘But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream’ (Amos 5:24)

    Justice is a fundamental facet of the Christian life, and the past summer has once again brought injustice into the light of day. As Black Lives Matter protests spread across the globe, the Church of England did, indeed, make its voice heard – recognising not only the chronic injustice done by white people to black people for generations, including in our churches, but also calling for real change within society and within institutions. Whilst it is shameful that it took these protests to call too many white people to action, this is a narrative that neither will nor should go away, and one that is not optional for Christians to engage in. On the surface, then, it is quite right for our bishops and other leaders to highlight the BLM campaign – yet something doesn’t quite feel right.

    A key thing about Black Lives Matter, and many other organisations that stand up for the oppressed, is that they understand not only the role of structural oppression, but also the importance of intersectionality. These two concepts should sit at the heart of what we as Christians believe – the former well studied and lived out in liberation theologies, and the latter a key example of living the Christian life in solidarity with the poor and oppressed. Yet intersectionality barely gets a mention in church discourse, and likewise the Church of England routinely misrepresents structural oppression in its own dialogues.

    The Church, of course, is exempt from the Equality Act. Yet this very simple fact seems to be overlooked by many church leaders who constantly complain that nobody is taking them, or the church, seriously. Black Lives Matter is unashamedly pro-women, pro-queer, pro-disabled, pro-black. Organisations like it understand the reason that the protected characteristics in the Equality Act exist, and rather than pitting one group against another, recognise the complex interplay between them and the interconnectedness of privileged oppression.  The substantial moral strength of BLM as opposed to the Church is that there is no ‘but’ involved in their struggle for justice. Oppressed groups work together to liberate each other – it is a struggle together, not a struggle in opposition.

    This is where the Church of England falls very short indeed.  A good example of this would be the dialogue on LGBT inclusion. Countless times, when pushing for equality in the Church, I have been told ‘but Africa’ – a blithe, yet despicable remark, which suggests that Church hierarchs would delight to have more LGBT inclusion but can’t because it would upset ‘the communion’ (or sometimes, more crassly and revealingly, ‘the Africans’). Not only is this offensive and simplistic, but it is an insidious attempt to silence one oppressed group by reference to another. We might seriously reconsider the imperial origins and character of the Anglican Communion and review its effective working in the twenty-first century. We most certainly should not sanction a narrative of blaming black people for white laws imposed during imperial conquest (and encouraged to this day by white conservatives) and consequently point the finger of blame for LGBT exclusion at ‘Africans’, as though that is a homogenous group of people. Yet ‘but Africa’ is the go-to response by far too many bishops.  Putting it bluntly, black Africans should not be the bishops’ shields.

    Yet when church leaders promote Black Lives Matter, they either don’t bother to find out what they are supporting, or they are hypocritical. As Christians, we are called to stand up against oppression, not against some types of oppression. We are most certainly not called to oppress. When Church leaders spoke up against the Orlando killings in an LGBT nightclub, they appeared surprised when very few people bothered to listen, particularly within the LGBT community. That might just be because LGBT people don’t want pity – they want solidarity. A Church with an ambivalence on equality is not a church of solidarity.

    Similarly, the furore over the recent participation of  Church Society in the Church of England’s Sunday worship shows quite how deep the problem is. Much was made of how difficult it is for those of ‘conservative’ mindset to find their place in the church. Likewise, in a theological college discussion on equal marriage, we were told that ‘both sides’ needed a safe space – these ‘sides’ being LGBT people and those with a theological opposition to LGBT rights. This is absolute nonsense – these two are not equivalent! For someone to disagree with your theological position is, of course, difficult – but if you truly believe it, then you should be able to defend it. This is self-evidently not the same as being attacked for simply being who you are – for expressing love towards another individual of the same sex, being told that ‘pride comes before destruction’ and that those who merely support LGBT people are ‘surrendering Christianity in favour of a completely different gospel, which is divisive…and endangering to the soul’ (as the Director of Church Society stated). This is not theological disagreement – this is a direct attack, prejudice against and persecution of LGBT people. Not to see this is to show a wilful disregard for the reality of power dynamics.

    The scary reality is that victim-blaming forms a fundamental part of church dialogue, including ‘good disagreement’. In the facilitated conversations a few years ago, even mention of the word ‘homophobic’ to describe actual oppression was considered ‘hurtful’ – quite literally silencing the voice and experience of the oppressed. The word ‘painful’ has been grossly overused by those in positions of power when their theology is challenged, yet all the while, LGBT people are expected to just take their vilification as part of ‘theological discourse’. It smells of the same attitude that led the British state to pay compensation to slave owners and not slaves. It is the height of hypocrisy and the apogee of privilege used for repression.

    This is why the Church of England is structurally oppressive.

    Bishops and clergy who cannot see this do not need more air-time – they need education. Our theological colleges should be giving voice to the oppressed, not the oppressor – yet how many of our colleges take liberation theology, black theology or queer theology seriously? Our entire religion is based on solidarity with the people on the margins, yet our entire institution is prejudiced, structurally, against those who remain on these very margins.

    Those of us in oppressed groups need to model this solidarity. Those of us who have privilege need to acknowledge it. We must call out lazy and false thinking, and we must change. The secular world is leagues ahead of us already, once again. Until we recognise our institutional prejudice, we would do better not to bother with the warm words, thoughts and prayers far too easily sprinkled.

    Acts of omission of solidarity are acts nonetheless – and until our actions reflect out words, we will remain a church all too silent in mission, silent in ministry and silent in letting the oppressed go free.

  • Sexuality & Christianity – Does One Size Fit All?

    by the Revd Canon Giles Goddard, Vicar of St John’s Waterloo and Member of the Co-Ordinating Group for the  “Living in Love and Faith” Project

    In the midst of trying to work out in this COVID world what is permitted, when, by whom, and where, I’m getting light relief by reading a book. It’s called ‘A Secular Age,’ – by Charles Taylor. It surveys the path to the current marginalisation of organised religion from the late Middle Ages to the 21st century. Some readers of this blog may know it. It’s a magisterial work.

    Taylor is one of the world’s major philosophers, winning the Templeton Prize and the Berggruen Prize, and “A Secular Age” is one of his most important books. He has been criticised for focusing too much on Europe and North America – a criticism he acknowledges – but for me, the resonances are manifold. He offers a detailed and nuanced explanation for why the denial of religious faith was virtually unthinkable at the end of the fifteenth century, whereas now to embrace religious faith is rarely intellectually respectable and often considered irrational. So what has changed, and why?

    You’ll need to read the book to find out. Here, I want to try to outline how Taylor argues that the sexual liberation of the 1960’s onwards drove a further nail into the coffin of popular religion.

    I obviously can’t precis 750 pages into five hundred words. But in brief, he charts the path towards the sexual liberation movement within both Catholic and Reformed traditions, identifying a disproportionate focus on sexual sin as the means of imposing conformity amongst both Catholics and Protestants.

    “In the mediaeval understanding of seven deadly sins, the sins of the spirit (pride, envy, anger) were seen as more grievous than those of the flesh (gluttony, lechery, sloth: avarice could be put in either column).”  (p496). There was, in the middle ages, a greater tolerance for diversity of sexual expression (evidenced, for example, in the Canterbury Tales). But, ‘during the Catholic Reformation, emphasis came to be more and more on concupiscence[1] as the crucial obstacle to sanctity.’ In other words, in the early modern age personal purity took on a greater importance as a pre-requisite for salvation – and the most clearly measurable criterion for purity was either celibacy, or sexual continence within the bonds of holy matrimony.

    The Reformation process was happening in parallel and led to a similar outcome. The dethroning of monks, nuns and celibate clergy from their status at the top of the religious hierarchy left a vacuum, and a notion of the Christian family, headed by father and mother in monogamous relationship, filled that space. So, again, a particular form of sexual expression became intrinsic to a grace-filled religious life.

    I’m not saying that sexual sins were unimportant in the pre-modern age: we know that the act of sodomy bore severe penalties, and the lists of days on which sexual intercourse was forbidden (Feast days, Fridays, Wednesdays, Saint’s Days, Lent, Advent…) meant that days on which congress could virtuously take place were vanishingly few.

    But ‘what emerges from all this,’ says Taylor, ‘is what we might call ‘moralism’, that is, the crucial importance given to a certain code in our spiritual lives. We should all come closer to God; but a crucial stage on this road has to be the minimal conformity to the code.’ (p. 497).

    Taylor argues that ‘the dominant spiritual fashion of recent centuries is not normative …. The deviation was to make this take on sexuality mandatory for everyone.’ (p504, my italics). The prevalent view within Western Christianity that one size fits all – that the only acceptable form of sexual expression is within a heterosexual marriage – is a relatively recent phenomenon.

    So, the sexual liberation movement which began in the 1960’s was not just about the importance of individual self-expression. It was also about challenging a historic religious structure of power and influence which confined women and LGBTI+ people – as well as people who weren’t white, but that’s another subject – to the margins.

    That, for me, is the rub. It’s one of the principal sources of our current arguments and it’s what, I hope, the Living in Love and Faith project will begin to unpack. Perhaps with the support of Pope Francis, who recently affirmed that ‘“The pleasure of eating and sexual pleasure come from God.’

    Now of course Christianity derives its being from the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and our faith is rooted in the Gospels. The problem, as we all know, is that the message and the meaning of Christ’s saving act is contested, by good and faithful people of sincerely different convictions.

    Understanding our history is important if we are to be able to understand one another. So I welcome Taylor’s analysis, and encourage you, if you have a spare few weeks and want to take your mind off the US Elections and the pandemic, to read A Secular Age.

    [1] Sexual desire or lust

    A response to this blog has been posted on the Modern Church website by Jonathan Clatworthy

  • A Tribute to Colin Blakely, Co-Founder of Via Media

    RIP Colin Blakely (Jan 7th 1960 – Sept 7th 2020)

    Words mattered to Colin.  Words said in the right way, to the right people, with the right tone could, he believed, change the world.  That is why he was so committed to accurate and sensitive reporting, sharing people’s stories and giving people a voice.  He dedicated his life to doing this, and inspired others to do the same.  What is more, he was one of the most respected and longest serving journalists in the Christian world.  He was fiercely loyal, totally confidential, and utterly dependable. 

    He was also one of my best friends, who I am proud to have known for over 20 years.

    Colin believed passionately that it was always better to be part of a conversation rather than on the outside shouting in.  That is why he encouraged me to get back involved with the discussions in the church on sexuality and stood with me every step of the way – at some cost to himself.  Together we launched Via Media, a blog now read by thousands with contributors from across the full spectrum of the Church.  Together we set-up my Foundation, for which he kindly agreed to be an office holder.  Together we worked on every speech, press release, blog and article – hoping that it would win hearts and challenge minds, and always, always allow the love of God to shine through.

    For truth and justice were critical foundation stones for Colin.  He felt the pain keenly of those who were outcast and sought to give them a voice.  In our catch-up sessions he would often reach out and take my hand, in tears, asking why people were so cruel and full of such hate.  This would often be after reading his postbag – there were no words, so we would just sit and silently weep.

    Colin bore the pain of being right at the sharp end of wanting to champion LGBT+ matters, which he did magnificently, and yet working in a world that he thought often caused the trauma he felt compelled to report on.  It was not an easy place to be, and he did not do it for money – but love.

    For above all, Colin’s most remarkable quality was his ability to love.  He embodied unconditional love of all – as his friends and family will testify.  His loving kindness touched everyone around him, as did his infectious laugh, which emanated in his eyes.  His soft Scottish long drawn out “yeeees” was the answer to most things, always positive – always keen to encourage and spur people on. 

    Colin will be missed by so many, across the full breadth of the Church of England and far beyond.  As Bishop Paul Bayes, a mutual friend, has said: “Colin was a really significant influencer in the Christian community over many years, and that he combined this with a quiet and self-effacing personal style.”

    His proudest achievement though was his family.  He was a deeply private man, utterly devoted to his wife, Libby, and their children, Mikey and Naomi.  They were his life and his rock.  He lived for them, and will I know continue through them – for the love they shared is unquenchable.

  • Worldly Weddings – To Bless or Not to Bless?

    by the Very Revd Nicholas Henshall, Dean of Chelmsford

    On 14 February a former Bishop of Jarrow used to stand at the feet of the Angel of the North in Gateshead, and bless any couples who came along. Kitsch and worldly certainly. But it might tell us something important about marriage and the church as we seek to respond to Government proposals to change the rules on where people can get married and who can officiate at weddings.

    The history of marriage and the church is clear enough. For almost the whole of the first 1,000 years of Christian history there is simply no such thing as ‘Christian’ marriage. Christians get married, certainly. But they get married according to the laws and traditions of ‘secular’ culture. Christian clergy play no role. Indeed, there is nothing resembling a Christian marriage service, a liturgy, until at least the 8th century.

    Even then weddings remain firmly under civil jurisdiction for another 400 years. It is only in the post-Reformation period that, by canon law and custom, it becomes a requirement in both Catholic and Anglican traditions that a priest officiates at a wedding. Always of course the actual ministers of the sacrament are the couple themselves and not the priest.

    Marriage does not fit easily into Aquinas’ Aristotelian sacramental system. But the sacramentaliisation of marriage in the Middle Ages – rather like the monasticisation of the clergy – is a fascinating power grab by the medieval church, more to do with control than blessing.

    Marriage is robustly secular. Though often missed, this is precisely what informs Paul’s teaching on marriage. Getting married is what people do, and that is part of its ‘worldly’ nature. In the teaching of both Jesus and Paul, marriage is part of the “the present form of this world which is passing away (1 Corinthians 7.31) and Jesus is specific that in the resurrection “they neither marry nor are given in marriage” (Matthew 22.30). These would not be comfortable texts to us at the funeral of a deeply loved spouse but this is not intended as a moral condemnation. Rather it reflects the eschatology of the New Testament writers.

    Christians have had to recognise for most of the last 2,000 years that marriage has taken a variety of forms and that these have largely been dictated and developed by ‘secular’ culture rather than by the church. Christopher Brooke’s classic, The Medieval Idea of Marriage, is hugely enjoyable in its own right, but leaves the reader in no doubt.

    The history of marriage and the church has not been helped by a deeply unbiblical  pessimism about sex. Rowan Williams notes that Gregory the Great had to reassure Augustine of Canterbury that someone who had had sex on a Saturday could still receive communion on Sunday. By contrast, in the Jewish tradition, the Sabbath is a specially favoured day for making love. Whilst the very positive statements of modern church leaders about marriage and the family are welcome, these have little resonance in the tradition, and often unintentionally echo the church’s earlier attempts to control marriage rather than demonstrating a desire to bless human relationships.

    When I was a vicar in North Yorkshire, I officiated at a minimum of at least 30 a year. It was a pretty church in a stunning location, and with a huge parish centre where we could even offer wedding receptions. This was a place where people still got married in large numbers, even though the registry office was just stone’s throw away. Wedding preparation in large groups on Saturday mornings was an excellent opportunity to get to know couples well and do some straight teaching and reflection. But although I was completely confident that we had wonderful good news to share – that we knew about love, sacrifice, life intention, vows, for better for worse – I also realised in those precious encounters that they were inviting me onto their sacred ground, not the other way round.

    And I think that’s why over recent years, I have learnt most from non-church weddings, especially a family wedding in a youth hostel in Derbyshire. Some non-church weddings have left me feeling empty and frustrated, to be sure. But so have some church weddings. This Derbyshire youth hostel wedding genuinely engaged and excited me. Location was determined by the bride and groom’s passion for rock climbing, and the ceremony itself – not just the party afterwards in a tent where the heating had failed – was a genuine opportunity for people to speak serious words about love and commitment, and make unique personal contributions. It seemed extraordinary to all of us that although there were several ordained ministers present, and the bride and groom would have loved to have their participation, the legalities prohibited any such religious content. But I realised through that day that I was learning at a ‘secular’ wedding things I thought I already knew.

    This is important. For many of us as Christian parents our children may well not make the same choices as us about marriage. Even devout Christians are sometimes opting for non-church weddings, because the rules we make exclude them or because what we offer seems to restrain rather than to bless.

    The experience of going to civil weddings has raised my game. If I were getting married now, it certainly would still be in a church, with full Nuptial Mass and all the trimmings. But we would seek to learn from non-church weddings, where the personal is often better honoured, the world better understood and the context better embraced. If Aquinas is right, these civil events are (at least in part) still sacraments, and the doctrine of the Incarnation tells us that Christ is there, just as he was at the similarly non-church wedding at Canaan in Galilee.

    The incarnation invites us to a recognise that it is the world in all its glorious variety that is the arena of God’s activity, the arena into which God sends us to serve, the context to which God invites us to pay attention.

    So, alongside welcoming the government’s long-overdue consultation on opening up the conversation about where people can get married and who can officiate at a wedding, let’s be bold enough – as confident missionary-minded churches have always been – to engage with the kitsch and the worldly next Valentine’s Day and do some serious blessing.

  • We Can’t Go Back….But We Will, Unless…

    by Jayne Ozanne, Editor of Via Media, Director of the Ozanne Foundation and a Member of General Synod

    Jayne Ozanne new

    “Real power lies in the people!”

    Earlier this week I was privileged to hear Archbishop Desmond Tutu say these powerful words during a characteristically direct address ahead of a private screening of an epic new film about Africa, climate change and migration, The Great Green Wall.

    He was keen to draw on the words of Thomas Sankara, that set the tone of the film:

    “We must dare to invent the future – everything humanity can imagine we can create”

    For the last three months on Via Media we have had 24 vastly different and yet uniquely personal blogs from a range of contributors addressing the subject “We Can’t Go Back…” They have touched on a truly diverse set of topics from power and inequality to social care and justice, and from topics relating to our buildings to those relating to our well-being and mental health.

    For all their differences, they have each dared to invent a new future, to imagine things as they could be.  Indeed, the series itself found its genesis in words spoken by the Archbishop of Canterbury during his Easter Day sermon, televised to the nation from his kitchen at the start of the lockdown, where he shared his own vision of a future filled with resurrection hope, saying:

    “After so much suffering, so much heroism from key workers and the NHS, so much effort, once this epidemic is conquered here and round the world, we cannot be content to go back to what was before as if all is normal.  There needs to be a resurrection of our common life, something that links to the old, but is different and more beautiful.  We must dream it because it is the gift of God. Then we must build it in partnership with God.”

    But the million-dollar question of course is – will things actually really change?

    Or perhaps more importantly – what will it take to bring about the change so many long for, write for, march for and in some cases, even die for?

    I suggest that there are three things that we can each do to help bring about the change we seek.  For power truly does “rest with the people” – we just need to understand how much power we have and how it can be harnessed, released and used to transform our Church, and our world.

    The first is, we need to pledge to always “call things out”.  We need to name the elephants in the room.  We need to stop admiring the “emperor’s new clothes”, and instead have the humanity and the decency to tell the emperors that they are in fact naked, that we will not go along with their charades any longer.  It takes courage and wisdom, and it requires a tone that is full of love rather than accusation – a balance that is not easy to strike.  In essence we need to stop colluding.  We need to stop colluding with the lies that have kept us all bound and which have often left us feeling that we have no option but to conform.

    What sort of lies?

    Well those that say our Church is not rich.  We are rich.  It is just that the money is locked up in ways few can access, and it is this that needs challenging.  It is the lies that say we, the Church, are united, when we all know that we are deeply divided and that it is those without power and influence who end up leaving by the back door, with few seeming to notice or care.  It is the lies that say we, the Church, have a respected voice in our nation, when in fact few are listening and frankly many no longer care as we lost their respect the moment we started preaching love to them and abjectly failing to show it to some of the most vulnerable in our midst.

    The second, which is closely related to the first, is that we need to stop being so deferential.  This does not mean that we stop showing respect to people, that is quite a different matter – mutual respect is healthy and essential.  However, there is an unhealthy level of deference in our Church that seems to put senior religious leaders on pedestals from which they can only fall.  They are human beings just like the rest of us.  They bleed, just like the rest of us.  They make mistakes, just like the rest of us.

    If we are honest, deference can act both ways – it can be as much about people in power expecting it as well as those “in the pews” kowtowing to it.  It may well have been an unspoken norm from our past, but it is not the model that Jesus shows us as he interacts with people around him – in fact quite the opposite.  The religious leaders of the day may have expected it, but He modelled something quite different – much to their frustration – and the people loved Him for it!

    Thirdly, we have to believe in ourselves. “There can be miracles, when you believe..” is not just a song sung by Mariah Carey.  It is something we each have to embrace and hold on to.  Right now there is so much that could happen, if only there were people willing to step forward and lead change.  We are in the midst of a major “reset” – there is a “reboot” that is happening not just in our Church, but in our nation and in the world itself.

    Never has there been such an opportune time for people to stand up and say “enough, I want to do things differently!”  What is stopping them?  Mostly, although I appreciate not always, it is their own levels of self-confidence and sense of self-worth.

    We are the key – we are also the barrier.  Change lies with us!

    So, in the words of Archbishop Tutu, who closed his address to us with the following challenge:

    “Let us not forget the transformative power of hope and imagination – we must dare to invent the future!”

    We must “dare”, and we must “do” – for real power lies with us!

  • We Can’t Go Back…So We Need to Take Care of Our Mental Health

    by the Rt Revd Dame Sarah Mullally DBE, Bishop of London and former Chief Nursing Officer

    Sarah Mullally

    ‘Coronavirus has our brains pinging on “future threat,” driving global anxiety and shared fear, as we all live in this extreme state of uncertainty.’ So wrote Jan Bruce in Forbes magazine on March 5th. And if shared fear was a reality then, how much more so now? After three months of daily death tolls, R values and government appeals to stay at home, it is not surprising that a certain amount of anxiety might hang over the public’s heads.

    This week, the mental health charity Mind quantified the impact. In a survey of 16,000 people, they discovered that 65% of adults and 75% of 13-24 year olds with pre-existing mental health conditions said that their situations had worsened. More than a fifth of those aged 13 or older without prior mental health difficulties described their mental health as poor or very poor.[1]

    We needed the stats, the briefings and the message to stay at home. Coronavirus was and is a killer. Understanding the risks helped us to stay alert in a time of real danger. And I’m also acutely aware that many people have faced fearful burdens on top of the virus itself.  Those who have lost their jobs or have been put under severe financial pressures. The elderly who were shielding and less able to socialise online. Those who struggle with loneliness at the best of times, finding their feelings exacerbated by circumstances. Others found themselves suddenly trapped at home with abusers. They faced fears not just from an unseen killer but from a visible threat.

    But the general climate of fear that has been so successfully inculcated in us, leaves us with a conundrum. How do we encourage one another to wisely emerge from lockdown? How do we begin to navigate this brave new world of face masks and social distancing? A world in which we can meet with six others but cannot sing in church. Some can have a picnic in the park while others remain shut up at home. We have permission to roam but the newspapers warn of a second wave. We want to support the economy but can feel, more than anything, emotionally shattered.

    Thankfully, before COVID-19 hit, we had been moving towards a greater awareness of the need to attend to our mental health. Notably the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge spoke out last year. I was grateful to be able to speak on these issues at Lambeth Palace alongside Dr Jacqui Dyer, President of the Mental Health Foundation and the Archbishop of Canterbury last year. The increased engagement with mental health awareness day is evidence of what Justin Welby wrote then: “it feels like something is beginning to shift.”[2] It is becoming okay to not be okay. And in this regard, the Christian story has an important contribution to make.

    In the apostle Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians he says:

    “We have this treasure,” [the treasure being the glory of God] “in jars of clay” [the jars being us] to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (2 Corinthians 4:7).

    Paula Gooder, Canon Chancellor of St Paul’s Cathedral, tells me that there were two types of jar in the first century. One was dark and thick used for display. The other used the thinnest material possible so that it would crack in the kiln. The cracks enabled light to diffuse out from within when a lamp was placed inside. The jar was purposely created to be vulnerable, so that the light would shine through it. This, says Paul is God’s design. Our fragility, vulnerability and brokenness is by design, so that the light of the glory of Christ might shine brightly as we persevere in living for Jesus through it.

    All of this means that as we emerge from lockdown, we do well to talk about our mental health. To talk to each other, to make it integral to our ministry life whatever context we find ourselves in, for mental health to be a subject for prayer in public as well as in private. In this way we can each find the comfort and support that we need.

    I’m doing all I can to ensure that the NHS provides the mental health services that our nation will need through my role in the House of Lords. But in the first instance, Paul doesn’t point us to specialised support groups but the shoulders to cry on that he provides in the church. The brothers and sisters that should be available to us all. The challenge to us as churches, is to continue to have a culture in which everyone feels safe to share their struggles and feel able to speak openly.

    Our fear is not something that we need to hide. It is something that can be harnessed in our walk with God. So often it is when we are at our wit’s end that we recognise our need to cry out to the Lord for help (Psalm 107:27). So often, in God’s peculiar plan for this world, it is when we have received comfort from Him and his people, that we are best equipped to comfort others in return (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).

    [1] https://www.mind.org.uk/news-campaigns/news/uk-government-must-urgently-plan-for-recovery-from-coronavirus-mental-health-crisis-says-mind/

    [2] https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/oct/18/children-alone-uk-mental-health-problems-listening-stigma

     

  • #BlackLivesMatter: Protest & Prayer

    by the Very Revd Rogers Govender, Dean of Manchester

    Rogers Govender

    This was a reflection shared by the Dean of Manchester at the Protest and Prayer event organised for the Diocese of Manchester

    I want to begin by reminding us that we need to be very aware, very conscious that these issues are very painful experiences for the black community.

    Prayer meetings in the context of protests can sometimes seem a little dubious. It is very important that we pray – we should pray for the victims; we should pray for all those in the black BAME community struggling with racism in our society, in our world.

    However, if you – like me – have your origins in Africa, you’ll know that we have a saying that goes something like this:

    “When the white settlers came to Africa, they had the Bible and we had the land… they said ‘let us close our eyes to pray’ and we prayed… and when we opened our eyes, we had the Bible and they had the land”

    And that is the truth of so much of our African experience of colonialism.

    I have a little photograph which I keep on my telephone.  It’s from the city of Durban where I come from and it reads: “The city of Durban, under section 37 of the Durban Beach Bye-laws, this bathing area is reserved for the sole use of members of the white race group.”  It’s a very sharp reminder, to me again, and to all of us, of the legislated discrimination and racism that so many have lived with, and I certainly have lived with.

    This form of legislated discrimination continued right up until 1994 when freedom came to us black South Africans after Nelson Mandela was released from prison after 27 years incarceration. So, keep in mind that as we pray we are reflecting on very painful realities today, and our praying must not attempt to mask that, and that we are also being reminded of historic racism that exists in the world and that continues in our minds today.

    Let me continue by reflecting on what’s going on right now…

    George Floyd

    The senseless killing of George Floyd in Minnesota USA has rightly caused deep anger  in that country and indeed in much of the world. I was absolutely horrified and outraged when I saw the video of George pleading for the chance to breathe as the officer had his knee on his neck and his hands in his pockets looking smug and powerful while George was literally dying on the street.  When bystanders protested and asked that this be stopped they were prevented by the other officers who stood by. I have to confess that I have not in a long time seen such awful cruelty in public; it will be a picture forever etched in my mind.

    Floyd’s killing has become the image that reflects the pain and distress that black people suffer on a daily basis in the United States and around the world. It brings to mind for me the pain and struggle for equality, respect and inclusion in virtually every sphere of life. The United Kingdom and the USA may have ended legislation regarding racism and discrimination as far as I know, as we did in South Africa, but BAME folk still experience it on a daily basis.

    Racism in the Church

    Ask any person of colour even in a liberal city like Manchester and they will tell you that it is difficult to find equal opportunities, and that we have to work doubly hard to get into senior jobs and positions of leadership. In the Church of England too this is very common, and I shall say something about that in a short while. Part of the challenge of racism and discrimination that we as BAME people experience, also hinges on the fact that we have experienced so much discrimination in the past that we have tended to internalise our oppression. So, we often do not apply for senior jobs because we know we won’t get it.

    There is a serious notion amongst many of us in the BAME community who believe that in the church white bishops already know who they want in senior vacancies and it is generally not a black or BAME candidate. The fact that BAME deaths to the coronavirus is higher in the BAME community says a lot. Even the government is reluctant to discuss this at the moment citing research that is ongoing around this subject.  The issues of poor health, diet, poor opportunities, high levels of poverty etc are reasons that add to these increased numbers of deaths in the BAME community. This has since been highlighted again with the issues of poverty in Leicester where a further period of lockdown and isolation has been put in place.

    I have done numerous interviews and radio broadcasts and postings on social media over the last two weeks at least on racism. And I have to say George Floyd’s death has made my blood boil because he brought back all the painful memories of my time when I lived in my native South Africa throughout all those apartheid years. As a young student I came to understand and then experienced the pain of discrimination and the violence that was used by the white minority government in South Africa to enforce racism. As an ordinand in training and later as a priest I witnessed overt blatant racism in my country where the lives of black folk were treated with a disdain, disrespect and even hate as they were treated worse than dirt. I have seen the abject poverty, lack of state provision in education, housing, job reservations, and the like, experienced by the black citizens of our country. I was not surprised when the Soweto uprising took place in 1976 and engulfed the country. Rather sadly it was the counter violence of the African National Congress to the violence of government that eventually brought the white minority government to the negotiating table. Moreover, economic sanctions that was encouraged by Archbishop Desmond Tutu brought the government to its knees. I am a supporter of on non-violent direct action to oppose racism and discrimination. That was the reality that I grew up in and George Floyd’s death has brought all of that once again to the surface in a very painful and stark way.

    The Cries of BAME Clergy

    Over these past 20 years that I’ve lived in England, I’ve heard the cries and pleas of many BAME clergy and laity in the Church of England who have experienced discrimination and exclusion because of the colour of their skin or their cultural backgrounds. I’ve listened to BAME clergy tell me that they are only offered junior positions as assistant curates and are rarely offered incumbencies in local parishes. I’ve heard the complaints of BAME clergy who say they were never considered for senior posts because they were deemed unsuitable culturally or even racially; you’ve seen some of that on social media in the last week or two.

    I have a very good friend who is a priest formerly from South Africa now living in the United States; keeping in mind that we’re talking about apartheid South Africa, he once wrote to a local newspaper in South Africa suggesting that perhaps the Holy Spirit was racist, which is why the leading of the Holy Spirit seemed not to lead to the appointment of black clergy to so called white parishes or to senior posts; he was severely reprimanded for that, however, I think it did seem to suggest a very moot point.

    Personal Experience in the Church of England

    At the February 2020 sessions of General Synod I shared a personal story of how a retired Bishop told me not to put my name forward for a diocesan bishop post because he said that that diocese did not, to quote his words, ‘’did not have lots of BAME people…’’ so I speak  from personal experience. I can tell you numerous experiences of being a parish priest and being mistaken for the local gardener or cleaner, especially when I was without my dog collar. This is not to disparage in any way the work of cleaners or gardeners! Its just the notion that a black person could not possibly be the vicar of the parish!

    I have so much more to say to you about the experiences of BAME people in this country, never mind the United States and South Africa.  Many of you who are on this zoom call or on Facebook perhaps have had similar experiences where you have been overlooked for positions of leadership or seniority in the church or in society.

    Speaking up against racism

    There is also a conversation that I had with a white friend, who now lives overseas –  who complained that I was pushing the racism issue very strongly over these last few weeks on social media; this is this is what he said to me, and this is what we often face as BAME clergy and laity; he said: ‘’Rogers you seem to be pushing the race issue a lot recently on Facebook, which is not the Rogers I remember from South Africa…you were always a rational unbiased person I admired but you don’t seem to be like that these days’’.  My response to him was as follows: we have a major racism problem; I chair a national committee that deals with this for the church; it is my responsibility to challenge racism today as I did in South Africa; it is a shame that this makes you uncomfortable; if you experience some of the things that I and my black colleagues do then you too would feel as passionate about it as I do… and that is the kind of typical things that we hear from many of our white colleagues and in my case friends. And this chap and his family are regular Anglican worshippers. I have since asked him to block me on social media if he didn’t like my posts. He has now blocked me!

    I believe that there ought to be a radical shift in our thinking about people of colour. This includes colour prejudice in places like India where dark-skinned people are regarded as less important and inferior.  We need to teach the history of slavery, racism and discrimination in our schools and in our universities; as priests and theologians we need to include African and BAME history in our theological colleges and universities.

    Addressing Racism in Sermons

    We must not be shy to speak about racism in our sermons. I once preached about this in my parish sermon and later that week a white member of my congregations shared with me that she suffered terrible racism from fellow white people in her community for going out with a black man in the 1960’s. Racist and vile language was regularly used towards her. She did marry her black Beau and they both have wonderful children and grandchildren. I had the joy of ministering to this mixed race family! However, she suffered terribly and never spoke about her pain for decades, until I preached about it. Suddenly she felt that she had ‘permission’ to speak about this terrible time in her life.

    Solidarity to Action

    We need to see change and we need to move from statements of solidarity to action.  And I’m very grateful to Bishop David Walker (Manchester) for his stance on inclusion in our diocese.  He’s always seeking to ensure that diversity is visible in our public events and services.  It makes a huge difference because this models a different way to be and to serve our community. I plead, let us not wait for the next murder of another black person for us to get our act together to provide leadership and an alternate vision of inclusion for all people and especially of black people in our very divided world that is crying out for respect, equality and justice.

    A Prayer by Desmond Tutu

    Let me end with a short prayer offered by Archbishop Desmond Tutu:

    ‘’Goodness is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate; light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death. Victory is ours, victory is ours through God who loves us. Victory is ours, victory is ours through God who loves us’’.

    God bless you as you pick up the fight for equality; for an end to racism in our society and in the Church of England. Thank you very much for listening to me.

     

  • We Can’t Go Back…Even When We Do!

    by the Rt Revd David Walker, Bishop of Manchester

    david-walker

    From this weekend, churches have the option, subject to a risk assessment, of reopening their premises for public acts of worship. Over the next few weekends I expect, and indeed hope, that we will be able to undertake simple, practical measures that will reduce the risks of infection at such gatherings, sufficiently to comply with the government requirement that our buildings be Covid secure. Congregation members may stagger their return over a number of Sundays, there will be no grand reopening ceremonies, but physically we will have indeed “gone back”.

    Except, there is never any true going back.

    The past, even the very recent past, is always a different country. Whilst separated from public worship in our buildings, we have continued the mission of Christ’s Church in different ways. We have proclaimed the Gospel from virtual pulpits we never knew existed, and many have responded in joy. We have nurtured one another in faith, using every technique of telecommunication to deepen our fellowship, share our tears, console our bereavement and relieve our loneliness. We have served the poor and hungry in our communities. We have been stirred to pray and act for justice, so that hungry children will be fed over the summer holidays, the homeless will not be cast back onto the streets, and Black Lives will Matter, both more and to more of us, in the time to come. We have shrunk our carbon footprint, travelling less, buying fewer disposable commodities, and enjoying the sights and sounds of a nature beginning to breathe more easily as many of us have been able to do also.

    We are not who we were four months ago. We have lost, lamented, learned, longed and loved. We cannot be squeezed back into our former shape.

    When I first began to work with parishes on recruiting new priests, I quickly discovered the huge value of “the vacancy”. It was only when the previous incumbent had left that a parish profile could be drawn up that didn’t simply say, “Same again please, bishop, only 20 years younger”. It was only after eight or nine further months had lapsed that a new vicar could arrive and not be expected to take on every single duty that had accrued to their predecessor. Time needed to pass for things to stop happening, for other practices to cease being unthinkingly presumed; only thus can we make room for the new.

    If I were inventing a liturgy for the return to our buildings, it would be to invite each worshipper, new or returning, to make the baptismal renunciations and professions of faith before crossing the church threshold the first time. We enter anew, casting off unsustainable or unwanted habits, discarding long hoarded prejudices, released from behaviours that exhaust and drain our energies. Ready for the future.

    My hope and my yearning is that these months of lockdown have readied us to be a Church that treasures its people and its resources enough to release them to where the opportunities and challenges for mission are the greatest; not a Church that seeks to do everything just as we have always done, but to do it more frantically and with fewer assets available than ever. I hope for patterns of ministry that do not tire our clergy and lay leaders to exhaustion, but equip them to expend their energies building the Kingdom that Jesus proclaimed; for ways of meeting and ministering that do not tie up so much of our energies in maintaining the wrong buildings in the wrong places; for radical simplification of the bureaucratic hoops we so often have to go through on the way to achieving any significant change.

    It would be foolish to pretend that most of us have not been impacted by the stress and strain of these last months. I can hear the siren voice within myself, the voice that wants to go back to things as they were. Maybe just for a year or two, it whispers, a time to rest and regain impetus for the future. And yet I know that to do so would be fatal. Indeed, it would simply add to the burden of exhaustion without offering new hope. Developing new vision and purpose, and doing it now, will bring not only fresh energy but refreshment and renewal. When we are clear how we are going to be different, we will find rest in release from the things we have stopped tiring ourselves out with.

    So, I welcome the fact that we will be publishing the Living in Love and Faith resources, and commending them for study and engagement, this autumn. I dare to hope that reading them in the light of our emerging from lockdown will provide fresh insights into who we are, and how we might be the Church better. I welcome the work I see being done to help us focus on what the Five Marks of Mission of the Anglican Communion might mean for us both as individuals and as church communities over the next five to ten years. I welcome the fresh energy that lies behind what should be the self-evident phrase that Black Lives Matter.

    The next few weeks and months will not only be a time to fling open the doors of our buildings to welcome our people, but a time to fling open our hearts and minds to welcome with equal enthusiasm what the Holy Spirit is yearning to breathe into us.

  • We Can’t Go Back…to 2020 Vision

    by Dr Rachel Jepson, Member of General Synod, Teacher and PhD in Education ? “Death and Life After Death: Children’s Concepts and Their Place in Religious Education”

    Rachel

    “I have come in order that you might have life ? life in all its fullness.”

    John’s Gospel, Chapter 10 Verse 10

    Engaging with what is happening in the world around us is both a personal and collective privilege and responsibility.  COVID-19 has vividly reminded me of the importance of fully living in the moment ? that this is the only moment I can influence.

    This pandemic is a chance for our education system to be far more holistic than it has ever been.  All those who are responsible for, and are a part of our formal education system ? the students, teaching and non-teaching staff, parents/guardians, governors, inspectors, the Department for Education, and the teaching unions have a golden opportunity to reflect on and assess the purpose of education and how that should be manifested.

    More joined-up thinking, action, and discernment is desperately needed.  As a consequence, there should be less compartmentalisation and separation of the formal place of learning in school, college or university from the home and the community in which people live.  The pandemic is starkly reminding us that how we live is interwoven with our neighbours whether they are family and friends, or acquaintances and strangers.  We do not live mutually exclusive lives.  Thus, a greater and more consistent willingness to be alert to and informed by each other’s narratives and realities is imperative.  In turn, this should lead to greater understanding and acceptance of one another.

    The pandemic keeps presenting us with the harsh realities of life.  Consequently, it is important for schools to embrace this chance to facilitate their students being able to explore the concepts of death and life after death.  Research affirms that children, including young children, are capable of considering these concepts and they should be given the opportunity to explore them further.  School is an advantageous and universally available place where meaningful consideration of the search of these concepts should occur as school is a familiar environment for discovery, learning and understanding for children.  Religious Education is the most relevant area of the school curriculum where children’s discovery and learning can be focused on the exploration of these concepts through investigating ultimate questions with the rites of passage and doctrines of the major world religions.  Accordingly, the meaningful and worthwhile updating of Religious Education syllabi for implementation by teachers and those responsible for Religious Education should be a priority.

    Furthermore, it would be healthy and wise for every school, college and university to make sure that they have a bereavement policy in place, and for the plan to be discussed and disseminated to every member of staff.  Familiarisation with it is key.

    Those in education are being forced to embrace digital technology.  In many places there is increased staff confidence with it as a result, for example, of daily staff communication which has, in turn, helped colleagues to work together.  Hopefully, this should mean that in future it can be used more to communicate with the aim of reducing workload.  Similarly, for many students there is increased confidence in digital technology.  Yet for others, such as, in some rural communities, it has led to confusion and anxiety.  Significant numbers of students do not have any idea how to open, access or write an email, yet this is what is being expected of them by their teachers.  It is not part of their every-day experience.  Parents in rural communities are not necessarily equipped to support their children in this digital age either.  As a result, for too many students a gap is emerging between the progress made by some of them and those sadly left behind.  There are cases where students have been provided with laptops with internet connection paid for and set up.  The issue is that without the knowledge, the students are unable to use them.  It would appear that the information technology curriculum has not been sufficient in embedding these skills which many adults take for granted.

    At the same time, the pandemic is providing more opportunities for families to learn together.  Sometimes this is through the range of tasks the schools have facilitated for the students’ learning; sometimes this is through how families are choosing to navigate the situation and seize opportunities, especially for their children to develop life skills.

    Excitingly, there are numerous, fantastic examples of students of all ages engaging in learning in and from their local environment and community ? from exploring the seaweed found on the beaches of Orkney and uploading their findings to the British Seaweed Survey; to observing the barge loads of granite being delivered to the shores of Withernsea in the East Riding of Yorkshire.  Secondary school students, including GCSE Geographers, had been learning about coastal management before lockdown.  During their walks, students became curious and knowledgeable about what they were witnessing.  They then sent photographs to their teacher, enthusiastically informing her.  These experiences make for far better awareness of our environment and an appreciation of where we live.

    From my teaching experience in the UK and South Africa, I am keen to see those in education continue to go outside and explore, as well as members of the public continue their personal journey with nature which has been evolving throughout lockdown.  This will create and build relationships with the environment which will, in turn, promote pro-environmental behaviours and, hopefully, mark the furtherance of saving our planet for which we have been given the charge of custodians.

    During COVID-19 fresh, creative ways of teaching are having to be used, particularly through experimenting, observing, playing and researching rather than classroom-based lecture work.  The lockdown has also seen a vast expansion of life skills being taught ? from cooking to sewing to maintenance skills.  These skills are generally not taught by parents anymore, due for instance, to the pressures of home life, work, after-school activities.  However, lockdown has forced us to stay together and pass on these important skills.  These relationship building activities have shown that education can happen in different ways, as well as, teaching our children and young people on how to become resilient and to deal with issues that face us in life head on.  They are tangibly realizing that they can survive, and in some ways, thrive in challenging times and come out the other end.  Without them necessarily knowing it, these too, are vital life skills which will help them to have the courage to take risks as they journey on through life.

    This pandemic is a golden opportunity to embrace the change and feel empowered to choose to live life in all its fullness.  Every educator, regardless of location, has the privilege and responsibility to encourage and inspire the grappling of ideas for the sake of the children and young people in their care.  Face-to-face interaction is a necessary component for meaningful learning.  All in all, enabling them to become engaging, joyful, global citizens.

    My hope and prayer is that everyone has the willingness, ability and confidence to hold onto what they know to be worthwhile, to those whom they cherish, and come alongside the rest of humanity.  While remembering the power and impact of loving kindness on us all.

  • We Can’t Go Back…To Looking After No 1!

    by the Ven Malcolm Chamberlain, Archdeacon of Sheffield & Rotherham and Member of General Synod

    Malcolm

    On Monday 4th May, six weeks into the UK’s COVID-19 lockdown, The Guardian newspaper published an article by Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett under the heading ‘Why coronavirus might just create a more equal society in Britain.’ In it they wrote about how the present crisis “has given rise to more neighbourliness, sociability and a desire to take care of each other.”

    It would be a fascinating study, well beyond the scope of this blog post, to put that statement to the test. Perhaps even more fascinating to chart a journey from how we were as a nation to what we may have become. At a superficial level, I can’t be the only one to have noticed how the initial selfish stockpiling of loo-rolls and pasta soon gave way to wonderful acts of human kindness. Indeed, in the midst of much tragic loss and disturbing uncertainty, time and time again we’ve been reminded of the human capacity for great generosity.

    I was particularly moved, for example, when, right at the beginning of the lockdown, the carers at Bridgedale House care home, not far from where I live in Sheffield, made the sacrificial decision to isolate with the residents in order to minimise the risk of transmitting the disease to those vulnerable people. For some this meant leaving behind partners and young children for several weeks, at a time when their lives were being affected too.

    We’ve heard stories of people spending their time and money to shop for and deliver groceries to those unable to leave their homes; of generous donations to foodbanks at a time of unprecedented demand; of holiday cottage owners housing NHS and other frontline workers free of charge; of café and restaurant owners providing food and refreshments for essential workers at heavily discounted prices or even for free; and, of course, there was Captain Tom’s incredible 100th birthday walk. As a fan of David Bowie, I still wish the army had given him an honorary promotion, so we could have sung about ‘Major Tom’!

    And I haven’t even mentioned the countless small, but no less significant, acts of generosity carried out by ordinary people day after day after day. If one positive effect of the Coronavirus pandemic is the much-needed reminder of the power of human generosity in overcoming adversity, we simply cannot go back to the self-obsessed ‘look after number one’ culture we have previously inhabited.

    We are not lone islands, even if economic policy has at times seduced us to such self-centredness. We are co-members of the human race, lovingly created by the same God who calls us into relationship with our Creator and with one another. The COVID-19 pandemic has opened our eyes to the awful consequences of poverty, institutional racism and injustice, as evidence suggests that the virus has a more devastating impact on the poor and on BAME communities. More positively, the COVID-19 pandemic has opened our eyes to the benefits of cleaner air, with enforced travel restrictions reducing global carbon emissions by some 17%. We cannot go back.

    But let’s be honest. We can go back and, sadly, we probably will.

    When we eventually return to a new normality free from restrictions, it will be all too easy for us to forget that feeling of sharing in a common crisis, and return again to simply looking after number one. I’m writing this in the week that non-essential shops were allowed to open again, and was gobsmacked (not in a good way) by images of one such store where eager shoppers were literally wrestling with each other to get in the door as it opened – no thoughts of social distancing or, it seems, of anyone else’s needs. Faced with such images, it can seem as though nothing has really changed.

    So how can we live differently? How might we emerge from the lockdown as more generous and caring people? And how might such generosity demonstrate our oneness both as members of the human race and, for those of us who might call ourselves ‘Christian’, as followers of Jesus Christ?

    There may be a clue in the letters of the New Testament. As the Church began to spread across Asia Minor, St Paul regarded generously giving to meet the needs of others as a key sign of commitment to Christ and a powerful demonstration of unity. Tom Wright comments that, having realised just how poor the Jerusalem Church had become, Paul started to imagine “what an impact it would have if the churches of which Jerusalem had been so suspicious … were to band together and send real and lasting financial help.”[1]

    And so, Paul closes his first letter to the Corinthian church by explaining how they were to go about collecting gifts for their fellow believers in Jerusalem. And it wasn’t only the wealthy that gave generously. In chapter 8 of his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul points to the example of the Macedonian Christians, who, by the grace of God, had been giving voluntarily out of their relative poverty, begging earnestly for the privilege of sharing in this ministry. I love that! These materially poor followers of Jesus were literally begging for the chance to enjoy the privilege of giving!

    As we potentially begin to slip back into old habits and power structures that advantage some over others, I wonder, do you, do I, regard generous giving as ‘a privilege’? Might we have more to learn from God about this essential mark of Christian discipleship. Whatever our financial means, however much spare time we have, whatever our gifts and abilities, might we have room to more fully reflect the generosity and abundance of the God who created us? Or what about our church or our diocese or our other networks – can we see ways of working together to better embody the kind of generosity that reflects our shared humanity?

    If the coronavirus pandemic has caused us to live more generously and pursue the common good in the face of adversity, surely we cannot go back.

    [1] Wright, Tom, Paul A Biography, SPCK: London, 2018, p257