ViaMedia

Category: Culture and Faith

  • Lives Worth Living? Principle and Practice in the Assisted Dying Debate

    by the Revd Dr Charlie Bell, Fellow at Girton College Cambridge, Assistant Curate, St John the Divine, Kennington and forensic psychiatrist

    I will admit to being quite surprised that the Assisted Dying Bill passed its second reading.

    Of course, much of that surprise can be put down to the ever-shrinking social media bubbles we all inhabit – mine, for example, seemed full of MPs saying that whilst they might support the principle, they couldn’t support the Bill as it stands. Yet parliament has spoken, and whilst there is still a long way for this Bill to go, it should make us at least recognise that we are in a new place culturally when it comes to matters of life and medicine. It looks, at the very least, like it is now a case of when and not if, when it comes to assisted dying.

    Plenty of ink has been spilt on this debate, with some of the arguments being put forward more charitable than others. There has seemed, at times, to be a wilful refusal to hear – and rather to simply dismiss – the concerns raised by large numbers of disabled people, and in addition the voting figures (and associated speeches) from UKME MPs might also get us thinking. The professionally religious have, in the main, been opposed (with some notable exceptions), but there is interestingly no neat left-right distinction in this debate. The religious opposition has not always erred on the side of kindness, and yet perhaps this is best interpreted as a sign of how concerned many religious people are about the threat this Bill poses to something so central to how many people of faith understand human life to be. It is worth our all remembering that very few people – if any – are coming at this issue with bad intentions, even if their failure to see the consequences (from whichever direction) of their opinions is frustrating!

    It’s not an original thought, but it is worth repeating that there are already grey areas in this debate that we have all learned to tolerate. Whilst the so-called doctrine of double effect – where a death-inducing dose of medication can be given if the intention is to relieve pain not induce death – really doesn’t have much (if any) actual use in contemporary medical practice (because the reality is that such high dosing is vanishingly rarely, if ever, required), nonetheless we know that patients can quite competently refuse treatment if they have decided that enough is enough. Similarly, we don’t simply go ahead and invasively treat patients when the treatment appears futile or actively harmful – there are decisions to be made on the what, where, when, and how in contemporary medical practice that cannot fit into simplistic binary choices. Yet what is being proposed here really is something new, in my mind, because – I think – it changes what it means to be a doctor, and hence what it means to have a doctor. It changes what choices doctors can legitimately be involved in – and what associated actions they can take.

    I think that’s the angle that I’m approaching this debate from, although I am aware that not only am I a psychiatrist – and hence someone who deals in matters of capacity, competence, suicidal thinking, life and death on a fairly regular basis – I’m also a priest. There have been rather silly suggestions that those with faith cannot objectively talk about this stuff – silly because the truth is that none of us, with or without faith, can talk objectively. We’re all caught up in our different (and sometimes internally contradictory) worldviews, and so whatever we have to say about this is going to impact us differently. What I would like to do, though, is offer some reflections on how this whole debate hit me as a practitioner of medicine – one with faith, sure, but primarily one thinking through how my medical life might change in this new cultural landscape.

    The first thing is how many MPs of various stripes, including some of those who were vocally opposed to the Bill, stated that they didn’t like this Bill but that they did agree ‘in principle’ (often in the stated context of poor palliative care provision). I’m not totally convinced that in matters of assisted dying, it’s quite so easy to separate principle and practice (as many disabled campaigners have made clear in their contributions to the debate), but putting that aside for a moment, it’s evident that more people are now willing to say that they think that there is a genuine choice possible between death and life. This is new, and significant, if it is indeed true (that is, unless the ‘agree in principle but not practice’ argument was simply being used because it was easier than to be seen to disagree in principle too). Assisted dying is, in the main, seen as a liberal, progressive cause – an assertion not without possible challenge, but an assertion that seems to have taken on a widely accepted status. Those arguing against assisted dying are doing so on the back foot.

    Which makes me wonder what precisely the principle is that MPs (and the wider public) agree with. One of the difficulties with all this is the strange bedfellows each of us might find ourselves with, where the thing we agree or disagree on is not actually the same in substance even if it is in effect. Definitions throughout this debate have been shaky and unclear – we might think of the word ‘intolerable’, for example, of which more below – and so the grounds on which we agree or disagree can themselves feel shaky and unclear too. The Church of England has felt a little limited in what it has had to offer on all this – something I found when writing a book on despair and dying – which means that much of the official public output, such as it is, has felt rather last minute, unprepared, and shallow. In the church, we’ve forgotten that a vast number of people don’t speak our language, and our words have lost shared meaning.

    Which brings me back to how words in general have lost that shared meaning in society. We have heard a lot about ‘intolerable’ pain during debates, but what exactly does that mean? When life is ‘not worth living’, again, what does that mean? Just as importantly, who makes the decisions about what those words mean, and against what are these meanings measured? As a medic, I feel uncomfortable with saying that some pain is inevitably intolerable, but who am I to determine what that means?

    As a psychiatrist, too, I wonder about exactly what doctors are being asked to make a judgement on. Historically – in medicine and in law – we haven’t really accepted the idea that living vs dying is a legitimate choice for an individual to make for themselves. The Mental Health Act, and various other bits of medical legislation, make that clear – and our practice mirrors that. Meeting someone who is suicidal in clinic or in an emergency situation, I would inevitably err on the side of caution and see this risk as something that is at least an indicator that a deprivation of liberty is appropriate. Yet whilst it is only in very particular circumstances, this proposed Bill changes that, in a way that fundamentally changes the way doctors and patients interact. For all the talk on the content of the Bill, its safeguards and so on, this aspect seems not to have featured nearly enough.

    Yet that also makes me wonder something else about this Bill specifically, which is whether it actually addresses the question its proponents state it aims to. For all the talk of slippery slopes, this Bill claims to only address those with a likely six-month time limit – ignoring, for a moment, the imprecise nature of any such prediction. In my experience, anecdotal though it is, I have infrequently met people with such a limited lime left on this Earth wishing for less – most, in fact, have wanted more. I can think of situations where ‘intolerable’ might make most sense to me – locked-in syndrome, for example, or degenerative diseases, which might be someone else’s tolerable but might be my intolerable – yet these are not included in this legislation. In other words, the arguments around assisted dying might be more palatable when addressing people in the last six months of life, but are they actually practical or necessary in this group of people? If the answer is, in fact, no, then that opens up a lot more questions.

    This debate is not going to go away, and nor is it going to become much easier or clearer. Those of us who have serious and deep concerns about what this does to medical care – where on the one hand I am expected to see all suicidal thinking as suggestive of disorder, whilst on the other hand can now determine someone to be entirely of sound mind despite this thinking – have a duty to engage carefully and thoughtfully with the debate as it progresses, whilst drawing attention to the realities that underpin it. For all the talk of this being one of parliament’s finer hours, I am not convinced – by the principle, or the practical workings out.

     

     

  • Safeguarding and Patriarchy in the Church of England

    by Revd Martine Oborne, Chair of WATCH (Women and the Church), a group that works for gender equality in the Church of England

    The 253-page Makin report on the Church of England’s handling of the John Smyth abuse case – that has brought about the resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury – has been pored over by many people in recent days. But one part that has so far been overlooked is the section that links the abuse with patriarchy.

    In 9.1.9-10 the report describes the patriarchal culture of the camps at which the abuse took place and how this was conducive to that abuse. Makin says that the camps were entirely run by men and a victim states: ‘…it was an incredibly sexist set up, a group of people called lady helpers, many of whom were either wives of the leaders or female undergraduates. These lady helpers were kept out of sight, out of mind, they’d be doing the cooking in the kitchen…’

    The report goes on to say that clinical psychologist, Dr Elly Hanson, also explores how this patriarchal approach… ‘was a conducive cultural and organisational factor,’ describing the impact in relation to this case as follows:

    “Misogyny and patriarchy: men are seen as in authority over women… men are granted more power than women and treated as having more wisdom and insight. As a result, John’s behaviour and justifications may have been given more legitimacy; his focus on young men was not questioned; and potentially valuable perspectives from women were absent.”

    The Church of England still uses its exemptions under The Equality Act 2010 to discriminate against women on the grounds of their sex. For example, it is still permissible for churches to ask only male candidates to apply for a post as a vicar. It is permissible for such churches to limit women’s ministry and prohibit them from preaching to, or teaching, men. It is permissible for such churches to say that they cannot accept oversight of a female Bishop but need to be overseen by a male Bishop such as a ‘flying bishop’ like the Bishop of Ebbsfleet. There are many such churches in London and big university cities and they include All Souls Langham Place, St Helen’s Bishopsgate, St Andrew the Great in Cambridge and St Ebbe’s in Oxford.

    The flip side of this permission is alarming: no one can be considered for training as a priest in the Church if they want women and men to be treated equally and do not accept the institutional discrimination that has been in place for thirty years, ever since women were first ‘permitted’ to be priests. And those who critique this discrimination find it very hard, if not impossible, to progress to senior posts in the Church. Ironically, the arrangements are referred to as ‘mutual flourishing’ which is shorthand for the expectation that both women and those who don’t fully accept women’s ministry can flourish.

    This ongoing discrimination is an injustice to women who, both ordained and lay, work hard throughout the country serving their churches and communities and who deserve to be treated equally with their male colleagues.

    And it is also unsafe.

    A culture which is essentially an old boys’ club is a fertile environment not only for abuse but also for its cover up, as we have seen in the Church regarding the Smyth case. Furthermore, it is an environment in which one entitled group is facilitated in exerting coercive control over another group.

    The Bishop of Newcastle has shown great integrity and courage in upholding safeguarding standards in the Church, not only by calling on the Archbishop of Canterbury to resign but also by publishing a letter she received from him and the Archbishop of York recently, which was patronising and coercive in trying to get her to adopt a certain position on another safeguarding issue relating to John Sentamu.

    Women are called to show ‘gracious restraint’ in the Church and to accept that some of their colleagues have the right to limit their ministry. This practice is essentially coercive, requiring women to accept a diminished status without complaint and gaslighting them, if they resist, by calling them unkind and saying that they are marginalising others.

    Although, as a result of the Makin report, there is an immediate need to arrange for independent safeguarding in the Church, safety will not be fully addressed without changing the culture that has been an old boys’ club for far too long. One helpful step would be to put an end to institutional discrimination by sex. If the Church won’t do this itself then maybe Parliament should consider removing its exemptions under The Equality Act – so that it would be illegal for the Church to continue discriminating.

    And, hopefully, it could then authentically become the spiritual voice for the nation – both safeguarding the vulnerable and treating all people equally.

     

     

  • What Have the Bishops Done?

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

    Where do we find the doctrine of the C of E? One answer to that question is: in our liturgy. That is why huge significance has been placed on liturgical texts which have been, or may be, authorised as part of Living in Love & Faith. The claim is often dignified by repetition of the phrase, lex orandi, lex credendi (‘the law of praying is the law of believing’) but this is not found in any formally authoritative source. The situation is in reality a bit more complicated. It might seem to an innocent observer that the 39 Articles of Religion (1571) are a statement of the Church of England’s doctrine. But by the later 20th century it was recognised that these were the product of a particular time and concerns. So, instead, the Worship and Doctrine Measure 1974 enabled the adoption of the Declaration of Assent used at every clergy licensing. This recognises the Articles (alongside the Prayer Book and Ordinal) as ‘witness’ to the faith found in Scripture and set out in the Creeds, and requires the new minister to recognise them as ‘inspiration and guidance’ – but no longer as a decisive statement of faith in every one of their details. It is this understanding which has been recognised in the law of the Church of England by the Court of Arches.[1]

    This absence of a straightforward statement of doctrine, and the reality that an appeal to Scripture only generates competing interpretations, has meant looking to approved liturgical texts as evidence for what the Church does or does not believe, a pattern encouraged by the 19th century era of litigation around liturgical controversy. This is reinforced by the circular theological position set out in the liturgical part of the 1974 measure and the Canons; that various bodies (Synod, Convocations, ordinaries) may authorise liturgical texts which “are neither contrary to, nor indicative of any departure from, the doctrine of the Church of England in any essential matter.” In the absence of any clear test of what that doctrine is, and the lack of any workable legal means to apply a test, the authorisation of a text is effectively evidence that its content does conform to the doctrine of the Church.

    Curiously, many of those opposed to change have argued at various points that, because any change to the Church’s teaching on marriage and sexuality would be a change in doctrine, this would require the use of the full Synodical process for approving liturgy under Canon B2. This is similar to the legislative process with first, revision, and final stages, and two-thirds majorities required in each House. This was what happened, for example, when the new Eucharistic texts in Common Worship were agreed in the late 1990s, as these are alternatives to the Prayer Book service of Holy Communion. However, all that Canon B2 provides is a mechanism for Synod to approve texts which are (in its opinion) “neither contrary to, nor indicative of any departure from, the doctrine of the Church of England in any essential matter” – the test referred to above. The Canons do not include a concept that the doctrine of the Church of England ever actually changes in any essential matter, only that it is expressed differently. So neither the ordination of women as priests and bishops in 1994 and 2014 respectively, nor acceptance of the remarriage of divorcees from 2002, were a change in doctrine (which would imply, perhaps, rewriting the Creeds or redefining the canon of Scripture) but merely reorderings of our common life. Even if Synod were to endorse same-sex marriage, this would only confirm that it was “neither contrary to…..” (you know the rest!)

    I am writing whilst the LLF process is still very much underway, and it is increasingly clear following the Archbishop of Canterbury’s recent podcast interview that it will help everyone if the House of Bishops could achieve some more clarity about what they believe they are doing. Contrary to what it may seem, however, they have done more than argue and procrastinate. Last December they commended the Prayers of Love & Faith as resources for use in regular services, together with a statement denying that these constituted any change in doctrine, or of teaching on sex. I agree that they are not a change in doctrine, but they are a change. In response to the legalisation of civil partnerships in 2005, the then House of Bishops declared that “clergy…should not provide services of blessing for those who register a civil partnership”[2] and on the introduction of same-sex marriage in 2014, repeated the instruction, “Services of blessing should not be provided.[3] Whereas now they have very clearly commended a set of prayers that may be used with those who have formed a civil partnership or same-sex marriage.

    Officially, of course, there is some hairsplitting, that the Prayers do not provide ‘services of blessing’ and so somehow this is not a contradiction. I don’t think anyone is convinced. Even when they are simply used in existing services, the PLF invite a minister to name the specific couple involved, and there are prayers asking God to bless them. And ironically the inclusion of different prayers for covenanted friendships clarifies the matter – because covenanted friendships are explicitly stated to be non-sexual and non-exclusive, that makes it clear that the main Prayers are for what we might try to gloss as one’s ‘central personal relationship.’ The associated Guidance fortunately makes it clear that it is not appropriate, with the PLF as with marriage couples, to ask intrusive questions about the intimate expression of any such relationships.  The Guidance also includes warnings that services should not imitate Holy Matrimony, whilst wisely noting that particular dress and associated trimmings are varied and subject to a range of cultural assumptions.  Since the distinctive mark of Holy Matrimony (as opposed to legal marriage in England today) is that it is between a man and a woman, we do not really need this warning, as the PLF are explicitly for same-sex couples.

    I shall return to the question of what sort of movement in the teaching of the Church on personal relationships this represents below, but first want to be clear about the status of the texts. They are commended by the House of Bishops for use by ministers in their discretion under Canon B5, meaning that the House has determined that they are (guess what!?) “neither contrary to nor &c.” This formula of commendation was devised in the 1980s to introduce new seasonal liturgical material in Lent, Holy Week & Easter (1986), The Promise of His Glory (1991) and much more since, on the basis that if a specific text had been approved under either Canon B2 or B4, that would have become the only permitted text, and stifled the liturgical freedom to devise seasonal services according to local need and custom. I have seen the argument both that this was different from the Prayers of Love & Faith, because it was not controversial, and that texts commended by the House of Bishops have no particular standing in law. Neither of these is true.

    Both Lent, Holy Week & Easter and The Promise of His Glory were presented to General Synod in the form of drafts in reports from the Liturgical Commission, for a ‘take note’ debate. In both cases the motion was passed by show of hands (meaning the level of support was not recorded) and it is possible that there was only modest interest from Synod (in the latter debate someone successfully challenged whether the House of Bishops was quorate!) Nonetheless, elements of the proposed texts were resisted and, more significantly, on both occasions speakers rose to object directly to the proposed method of commendation by the House, arguing that as the new books restored ceremonies which had been deliberately abolished at the Reformation, a full canonical process of approval should be followed. The ‘take note’ format also allowed the Liturgical Commission to go away and revise the texts including responding to comments in Synod, and the texts were then published without Synod having any opportunity to express a view on the final version. Though even then sex was more exciting than liturgy (as in the Higton debate of 1987) it was not without differences of opinion on both content and process. As for the standing of the texts from a legal viewpoint, both have been cited in faculty judgments in support of the acquisition of e.g. processional candlesticks and incense apparatus, as these are envisaged by their rubrics.[4] Although the exact impact of the decision must remain unclear until tested in court, the Prayers of Love & Faith commended by the House of Bishops do say something, as much reaction seems to confirm, even if we are still trying to work out what.

    Allow me a diversion. Readers who are familiar with Yes, Prime Minister may remember the episode in which Prime Minister Jim Hacker is manipulated into appointing a don from Sir Humphrey’s old college as Bishop of Bury St Edmunds in order to ease the latter’s retirement plans. At one point he is presented with an alternative candidate who has strong opinions on matters of public morality – abortion, teenage pregnancy, gambling. Hacker protests that those are matters about which he is trying not to have a policy (by implication, because they are too difficult and controversial) and Bernard Woolley, the Private Secretary, pedantically responds, “Yes, he is against your no-policy-policy” and so he is ruled out, and Sir Humphrey’s plan advances another step.

    It seems to me that perhaps there is some hope that the Church of England is moving, more perhaps by accident than design, to something of a ‘no-policy-policy’ on sexual relationships, in spite of the strong voices who oppose this. Besides anything else, any clear policy is going to have to draw some uncomfortably explicit lines around particular sexual acts, and it is difficult to imagine this turning out anything other than laughable. In other words, it might be that we reach a position where the Church responds to particular circumstances, both locally on an individual basis and commenting on national trends, but finally gives up pretending that the public role of Christianity is to define who is allowed to have sex with whom, as if anyone were really listening to that any more. And this would then be much like our wise resistance to absolute rules on war and peace, or how people spend their money, or the benefits and risks of the AI revolution. And we could get on with worshipping and serving the God who redeemed us in Christ, and whose world needs his love so much.

    References:

    [1] In the case of in Re St Alkmund, Duffield [2013] Fam 158, paras 24(a)-26

    [2] House of Bishops statement on civil partnerships, https://www.churchofengland.org/sites/default/files/2017-11/house-of-bishops-statement-on-civil-partnerships-2005.pdf, §17

    [3] House of Bishops Pastoral Guidance on Same-sex Marriage, https://www.churchofengland.org/sites/default/files/2017-11/house-of-bishops-pastoral-guidance-on-same-sex-marriage.pdf §21

    [4] In Re. St John the Evangelist, Chopwell [1995] Fam 254 and subsequent judgments adopting Chancellor Bursell’s reasoning.

     

  • The Sovereignty of God and Pastoral Responsibility in Political Turmoil

    Reflections on Privilege, Inequality, and Justice and the Re-election of Donald J. Trump as the 47th President of the United States of America

     

    by Revd Dr Augustine Tanner-Ihm, OMS, Lead Minister of St. Nick’s Kingsway, Manchester

     

    Growing up in the USA, the Pastor would always say, “God is Good, all the time,” and the response was always, “And all the time, God is Good.” This simple but poetic liturgical language was a reminder that God was good all the time. To be honest, we didn’t need to know that because we already had experienced that through the lives of our grand people and uncles and aunties. It was a cornerstone of the Black experience.

    Now as a pastor with much education and theological reflection, I think of the way in church we respond to things when the world is not good all the time.

    The sovereignty of God—a central doctrine affirming that God holds supreme authority over all creation—poses profound theological and pastoral questions, particularly amid politically turbulent times. During election cycles, religious leaders often assure their congregations that “God is in control.” While well-intentioned, these reassurances risk reducing complex theological truths and overlooking the severe impact that political outcomes may have on marginalized communities. In light of God’s sovereignty, pastors must balance their messages carefully, examining how this core tenet of Christian faith intersects with power, privilege, and politics. This reflection explores the importance of approaching the sovereignty of God with a nuanced, biblically-rooted pastoral theology that attends to the challenges of contemporary governance. Using insights from theologians such as Revd Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., James Cone, Gustavo Gutiérrez, and Tom Wright, this article considers the pastoral responsibility of responding to right-wing governance, particularly in cases where the clergy’s personal privilege may insulate them from the impact of oppressive policies. It also examines how nationalism and authoritarianism threaten the inclusive witness of the Gospel.

     

     Theological Foundations of God’s Sovereignty

    The sovereignty of God, foundational to Christian belief, asserts that God is the ultimate ruler and authority over all things. Scripture emphasizes this from the creation narrative in Genesis to the redemptive arc spanning the Old and New Testaments. Ephesians 1:11 states that God “works all things according to the counsel of His will” (The Holy Bible, New International Version), underscoring divine authority over human affairs and history. However, the notion of divine sovereignty does not excuse human agency; rather, it reinforces the Christian duty to engage actively in God’s mission through stewardship, justice, and love.

    In his work on the Kingdom of God, Tom Wright argues that God’s reign is not merely a far-off future but a present reality brought near by Jesus’ ministry, inviting believers to participate actively in God’s redemptive work (Wright, 1992). Wright’s theology encourages Christians to resist fatalistic interpretations of divine sovereignty that promote passivity and instead invites them into an active, present-tense engagement with justice and mercy. When pastors appeal to God’s sovereignty amid political outcomes, they should avoid implying that God ordains injustices. As Wright emphasizes, the Kingdom of God is “now and not yet”—a divine reality already breaking into the present, calling believers to reflect God’s justice and compassion (Wright, 2003). This call to action reflects a Kingdom-oriented faith that insists on challenging injustice rather than accepting it passively.

     

    The Pastoral Perils of Simplistic Commentary on Election Outcomes

    Simplistic appeals to God’s sovereignty during times of political instability can hinder rather than empower. While well-meaning, reassurances that “God is in control” may comfort some but seem dismissive to others, particularly to those for whom political shifts directly threaten safety and rights. Pastors must discern how such messages resonate differently across their congregations. James Cone’s Black Liberation Theology warns that the Gospel demands a “preferential option for the poor,” highlighting that Christ’s message is inherently liberative, with a special concern for the oppressed (Cone, 1970). Without careful consideration, pastors may unintentionally obscure or even undermine this liberating aspect of the Gospel.

    The Trump administration’s policies illustrate the impact of right-wing governance on vulnerable communities, including LGBTQ+ individuals. The administration sought to remove legal protections in healthcare, military service, and civil rights, policies that LGBTQ+ advocates describe as discriminatory and harmful (Human Rights Campaign, 2020). To claim God’s sovereignty without a critical reflection on the justice implications of these policies risks trivializing the plight of marginalized groups. Revd Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. emphasized that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,” reminding Christians that divine sovereignty calls them not into resignation but into action on behalf of the oppressed (King, 1963). For King, God’s sovereignty was not an excuse for passivity but a mandate for prophetic, justice-driven witness.

     

     Privilege, Power, and Pastoral Commentary

    The privilege of some clergy—whether economic stability, heterosexual orientation, or racial identity—can shape political commentary, often without conscious awareness. For pastors relatively insulated from the negative impacts of government policies, there is a responsibility to speak up for the vulnerable. Gustavo Gutiérrez’s liberation theology emphasizes that “theology begins with the reality of suffering” and insists that Christians adopt a “preferential option for the poor” (Gutiérrez, 1973). Gutiérrez’s theology challenges clergy to avoid complacency, encouraging solidarity with marginalized people who may suffer under right-wing or authoritarian regimes. Privilege can distort pastoral perspectives, underscoring the need for critical reflection on social position and an intentional effort to amplify the voices of those most at risk.

    The rise of White Christian Nationalism illustrates this danger starkly. White Christian Nationalism seeks to blend Christianity with nationalist ideology, often privileging certain racial and social groups over others and thus undermining the Gospel’s universal message of love and justice. Such ideologies, while popular in some circles, not only erode the church’s credibility but also distort Jesus’s teachings on compassion and inclusion (Mark 12:31). The Book of Common Prayer reminds the faithful to “pray for the whole state of Christ’s Church militant here in earth” (Church of England, 1662), calling Christians to an inclusive faith that stands in solidarity with the oppressed, rather than aligning with exclusionary structures of power.

     

    Inequality and the Pursuit of Justice

    Inequality within society exacerbates the harm caused by dismissive pastoral commentary. Policies such as those proposed by Project 2025, which aim to advance conservative priorities in the United States, highlight the potential dangers of government decisions that deepen inequalities and reduce support for marginalized communities (Heritage Foundation, 2023). Pastors who invoke divine sovereignty to explain or excuse such policies risk perpetuating systems of oppression rather than challenging them. Proverbs 31:9 urges believers to “speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy,” reinforcing the call to resist structural injustice rather than acquiescing to it.

    Historically, the Christian church has often been complicit in oppressive systems, from colonialism to the Atlantic slave trade. The resurgence of White Christian Nationalism continues this pattern, weaponizing faith to justify exclusionary and harmful policies. Under such ideologies, LGBTQ+ individuals, among others, face increased marginalization. The LGBTQ+ community faces significant challenges under both nationalist and authoritarian regimes, particularly those that exploit faith for exclusionary purposes. For example, policies under Trump’s administration removed federal protections for LGBTQ+ individuals in various sectors, creating barriers to healthcare, adoption, and workplace equality (Human Rights Campaign, 2020). White Christian Nationalism distorts the Gospel, promoting a version of Christianity that emphasizes exclusion and division rather than inclusion and love. In contrast, the Gospel’s message affirms the dignity and worth of all people (Galatians 3:28).

     

    Pastoral Response to Right-Wing, Authoritarian Governments

    Pastoral care must engage in prophetic critique, particularly of governments that perpetuate inequality or undermine the rights of marginalized communities. Gustavo Gutiérrez’s liberation theology underscores the church’s duty to challenge systems of injustice. While pastors should avoid aligning too closely with any political party, they are called to uphold values of justice, mercy, and compassion as modelled by Christ. This call may necessitate opposing state policies when these violate the inherent dignity of individuals. Pastoral response must move beyond words to involve tangible actions that support those harmed by discriminatory policies. As the Book of Common Prayer encourages, believers are called to confess their sins—both personal and collective—and seek forgiveness, committing themselves to justice and righteousness.

    The legacy of King, Cone, and Gutiérrez emphasizes that discipleship requires courage and a willingness to stand against injustice, even when such resistance may be unpopular. Their witness reminds today’s church of the Gospel’s call to justice, compelling pastors to engage their communities in resisting structures that dehumanize or marginalize others.

    The Anglican Ordinal outlines the pastoral responsibilities of priests and deacons, particularly emphasizing their call to care for the spiritual and material welfare of all people, especially those who are vulnerable or marginalized. According to the Ordinal, priests are called “to preach the word of God, and to administer the holy Sacraments,” while deacons are entrusted to serve and advocate on behalf of the poor and those in need, living as “a sign of Christ’s servanthood.” In the context of political turmoil or policies that harm the vulnerable, this pastoral role calls both priests and deacons to embody the compassionate, justice-oriented heart of the Gospel. Their charge is not to support the status quo but to challenge injustice with the love and mercy modelled by Christ. By attending to the spiritual needs of their congregation while actively resisting policies that deepen inequality, clergy are reminded that their ordination vows include a commitment to advocate for a just society. In doing so, they fulfil the Ordinal’s call to care for all people, reflecting the Kingdom values of compassion, justice, and inclusivity as embodied in their pastoral vocation.

     

    Conclusion: Toward a Faithful, Justice-Oriented Pastoral Presence

    The doctrine of God’s sovereignty affirms God’s ultimate authority, yet it should not be used to justify passive acceptance of injustice. Instead, it calls Christians to embody God’s justice, compassion, and mercy within a world fraught with sin and inequality. As pastors speak of God’s sovereignty, they must remain mindful of their own privilege, ensuring their message does not unintentionally support unjust political systems.

    The witness of the Gospel compels believers into a life of discipleship that embraces the marginalized and resists oppressive powers. Martin Luther King Jr., James Cone, Gustavo Gutiérrez, and Tom Wright challenge the church to live out a faith that reflects God’s justice, recognizing the sovereignty of God not as a license for passivity but as an invitation to active, justice-driven love for all creation.

  • The “Failure of the Church”: Why Waiting is Not Neutral

    by Revd Dr Charlie Bell, Fellow at Girton College Cambridge; Assistant Curate, St John the Divine, Kennington 

    ‘Lament and repent of the failure of the Church to be welcoming to LGBTQI+ people and the harm that LGBTQI+ people have experienced and continue to experience in the life of the Church’.

    So began the motion passed by the General Synod in 2023, in relation to the LLF project. Just look at the state of it now. According to Bishop Martyn Snow, in his recent video, ‘We’re still in the process of working with LGBTQI+ people to look at what that apology really means in practice’. So far, not much.

    I am bored writing about LLF. I am sure you are bored hearing about it. And yet here we are, almost two years on from that motion, and we have moved … effectively nowhere. Yes, some prayers have been commended – which was ‘looked forward to’ in that first motion – and that was a real step forward (although, of course, it really just formalised what was already happening in many parishes). But it happened nearly a year ago now, and although the prayers have been approved as a ‘standalone service’ we are being asked to wait to use them until a ‘registration process’ has been set up. Meanwhile, there have been a love-in residential, endless variations on working groups (with precious little new output), and various half-promises made. Folk wanting some progress for LGBTQIA+ people have given of their time and energy again and again. But in terms of actual change brought about for LGBTQIA+ people, let’s be frank – since that motion, there has been effectively nothing. Zero. Nada.

    This is enough of a disgrace in itself that the endlessly dithering House of Bishops should hang their heads in shame. Yet let’s be absolutely up front and frank here – that is not the half of it. Let’s not pretend: we know that there have been votes amongst the bishops to enable clergy to enter same-sex marriages, and those of us in the process know that Archbishop Justin’s comments on sex being for marriage do indeed reflect the general position of the House and College. Against that background, though, the required withdrawal of the nasty little Issues in Human Sexuality (a withdrawal required, let us remember, all the way back in February 2023), still has not happened – which is completely unacceptable. Similarly, all those in the LLF process know that clergy same-sex marriage is a question of when and not if – such has been said to us by staff, by bishops. The idea it won’t happen is ludicrous – and if that does become the plan, then there is no benefit to dragging it out any longer. Yet still, no decision is made – and we are treated like fools, again, and again, and again.

    Indeed, forty-four bishops called for this decision to be implemented ‘without delay’ in November 2023. Funny definition of ‘without delay’, right, a year on – and with the endless can-kicking, wasted time, and – frankly – wasted vocations.

    Because this isn’t an abstract issue. We have potential ordinands, whose call has been blocked by the absolute impediment that they have fallen in love with someone and have formalised it in law. Similarly, bishops are refusing to license clergy in same-sex marriages, all in the middle of a vocations crisis and the scandal of endlessly overworked clergy. Cases from the Diocese in Europe, where some countries don’t provide the option of civil partnerships, show quite how small-minded, absurd, and nasty this policy is in practice. In some places, bishops are quite inexplicably – and viciously – refusing to license lay people in civil marriages to people of the same sex or gender too. Even Issues in Human Sexuality didn’t go that far.

    So we clergy can pray prayers of blessing for others in such relationships but not enter into them ourselves? Similarly, clergy from other provinces of the Anglican Communion in same-sex marriages cannot minister in the Church of England, but clergy from these provinces who have celebrated such a marriage can? What a load of ecclesiological – and queerphobic – nonsense that is. The whole thing is a rotting ulcer at the heart of our church’s polity – and still, nothing is done. Where is the courage? Where, frankly, is our pastoral heart? How long, O Lord? Why is it that we are so expendable – so worthless – so detested? We asked for bread, were promised a stone – and even that is still withheld.

    The truth is, though, that there has been work done, ‘progress’ on LLF – it’s just that this work has nothing whatsoever to do with LGBTQIA people. LLF is no longer about them – about us. It is about those, a small but rich and powerful minority, who wish to exclude them from parts of church life based on their sexual orientation. It has become yet another tool of the powerful over the vulnerable. Just like Jesus always wanted.

    This is not new. Those who ‘couldn’t accept’ the ordination of women as priests and deacons got a nice pay-off as they swam the Tiber. In today’s arguments over other people using prayers and other people getting married, once again the sole focus has been on those who oppose the majority position. Look back over the reams of papers, debates, and ‘solutions’ suggested for our current predicament – how many of them actually mention, let alone prioritise, LGBTQIA people? Hint: not many.

    Those of us in favour of LGBTQIA inclusion seem to be bending over backwards to ensure those who think we aren’t even Christians should be given absolutely everything they claim they need so that they are not stained by our queerness. Adverts from inclusive churches speak of the need for ‘support’ for those who feel ‘disappointment, discomfort, or distress’ about the use of the Prayers of Love and Faith. While it’s surely good that PCCs are discussing where they stand on their use, and complete honesty about this will help people decide whether a church is for them or not, it’s all very one-sided. Meanwhile, there is precisely nothing about the actual LGBTQIA people about whom this project was supposed to be.

    The entire project has become disproportionate without ever moving anywhere near the ‘radical new inclusion’ promised at the outset. All we are doing now is yielding to threat upon threat from the ‘Alliance’, which has a much louder bark than its bite, and in the process chucking more and more LGTBQIA people onto the pile that says: ‘not important enough’. We appear willing to be agents of injustice to protect the powerful who now claim they are being oppressed. It would be laughable if it weren’t so tragic.

    Christians and their churches are known by how they treat their weakest members. Jesus said something about that somewhere. The Church of England is standing at a precipice where it must decide whether it really wants to be known for creating a system that looks after the privileged, or whether it actually wants to embed and live the apology to LGBTQIA people that it so far only claims to believe in.

    This time of treating LGBTQIA people like collateral chaff cannot continue. If the bishops do not have the courage to permit us to enter into same-sex marriages and continue to live out our vocations – vocations that have been acknowledged and affirmed by the church – then it is time for them to admit that. This includes every serving Church of England bishop – every single one of whom, at present, agrees to implement the 2014 voluntary agreement. Similarly, if they want to continue the nonsense of ‘yes at Evensong, no at a standalone’ when it comes to the Prayers of Love and Faith, so be it. If that is the church they are proud to lead into the future, then they should own it.

    That is, of course, the church they currently lead. Waiting is not neutral – it is ongoing structural violence. Deciding not to decide is a decision – a decision to support ongoing injustice, and to say, through their actions, that we are not worth the hassle of making oneself unpopular with one’s sibling bishops. Neither handwringing nor can-kicking, nor hoping it will all go away, nor endless agonising about how difficult it all is, is a Christian virtue.

    And until a single bishop is willing to name this injustice, and then actually act justly, then they can – frankly – keep their apologies.

  • When Doctrine Meets Dinosaurs

    by Revd David Runcorn, a convenor of the Inclusive Evangelicals network

    An edited version of the keynote address given at the recent ‘Radical Love: being an inclusive evangelical’ conference, hosted by the churches of St James and Emmanuel, Didsbury, Manchester, September 2024.

     

    It began on the beach. Two children sifting the shoreline for shells and fossils to sell – everything helps for a family always on the edge of poverty. That day they stumble on something extraordinary. Buried in the sand is the large, fossilised skull of a creature with huge eyes, powerful jaws and dozens of sharp teeth. It had fallen from the cliffs above. The boy leaves. His twelve year old sister begins a long search for the rest of the fossil in the cliffs. At last she uncovers it. It was seventeen feet long. The local newspaper called it a crocodile, but it was clear this was a creature that no one had ever seen before. It was eventually named Ichthyosaurus (‘fish lizard’), a marine reptile that we now know lived around 200 million years ago. It caused a sensation far and wide. Even the Madras Courier reported it.

    The year is 1812. This is Lyme Bay, Dorset. The girl’s name was Mary Anning. It was the first of a series of discoveries she made. She became a widely sought out, self-taught, expert on fossils and palaeontology, though the public credit was routinely claimed by men. In March, over 200 years later, on International Women’s Day, the Royal Mail produced stamps to commemorate her – only slightly slower in arriving, I observe, than first class post these days.

    Though fossil finds were not new, the nineteenth century discoveries triggered the development of the first properly scientific theories to explain them. They asked wholly new questions about the world. Worryingly, for Christians of that time the answers appeared to contradict what the bible was thought to teach.

    Previous centuries had all contained discoveries that overturned inherited beliefs and understandings. In 1492 Columbus simply sailed off the edge of the known maps of his day. Europe then had no idea of the true size of the planet or even that any land existed south of the equator. The impact of the stories of new worlds he returned with was immense. It was one of the triggers for the imaginative transformation that was The Renaissance. The response was exploratory, adventurous, outward looking.

    Other findings met with fierce opposition though. In the 1600’s when the scientist and astronomer Galileo challenged the ‘orthodox’ belief that the sun and stars revolved around the earth he was excommunicated for contradicting the Bible and the teachings of the church. He spent the latter part of his life under house arrest.

    Now, nineteenth century Britain found itself faced with discoveries that triggered a similar mix of excitement, anxiety, and often fierce opposition by the Christian world. Those unearthing these ‘impossible monsters’ (as local Dorset novelist and clergyman, Charles Kingsley, called them) quickly learned to be very cautious about where they shared their findings. Once under suspicion the consequences could be dire. Patrons withdrew funding. Publishers were threatened with prison. Teaching careers were terminated. Charles Darwin is one of the best known in that era, sailing on the Beagle in 1831 and publishing the Origin of the Species in 1859. But he kept his most controversial theories hidden in a secret diary for twenty years.

    Why was there such resistance? We look back rather baffled, for what they were uncovering has long since become so much common knowledge.

    It centres on what it means to be biblical.

    Nineteenth century Britain was a devoutly Christian nation. The Bible was the authority at its foundations. All claims to human understanding and knowledge must conform to the holy texts and be judged by them.

    Anning’s discovery was problematic because her findings appeared to contradict the creation stories in Genesis, which were believed to be literal accounts.

    Genesis chapter one clearly states that God separated land from water on day three. Creatures were not created until day five. So what is a marine mammal doing on dry land at all? And why is it deep under the ground and not lying on the surface?

    Furthermore, these creatures were no longer in existence. But did not God tell Noah to bring two of every kind into the ark to survive the flood (and marine mammals would have been untroubled by water anyway). Extinction was a hitherto unknown possibility. The very idea seemed to be a blasphemous denial of God’s creating work and the Biblical record.

    The Genesis account states that God made all creatures ‘according to their kinds’. This was understood to mean each species was distinct and fixed. The emerging theories of transmutation or evolution of species – particularly of primates into humans – shocked faithful believers.

    One further factor was the belief about the age of the earth. In 1650 Archbishop Ussher had published his life’s work using the bible record to date creation back to its very beginning. His conclusion was that world began on the night of October 22nd/23rd, 4004 BC. The King James Bible versions began to incorporated Ussher’s chronology into the margins alongside the bible text. This chronology became part of ‘orthodox’ belief everywhere. To challenge it was to question biblical revelation itself and attack the very faith of the church.

    Here was society and church facing amazing new discoveries about the world but with an understanding of the scripture texts that meant the emerging conclusions  had to be resisted as attacks on the Bible and Christian civilisation as a whole. One of Charles Darwin’s most public supporters was nicknamed the ‘devil’s disciple’.

    Faced with the evidence of these discoveries nineteenth century believers reacted in different ways. Philip Gosse was a leading naturalist in his day. Darwin consulted him. He agreed that the visible evidence pointed to evolutionary processes and a world of great age. But, for him, the bible was a higher authority. He believed it taught that God made the world complete, in a moment, but with all the appearance of age – such as rock strata, tree rings and even a navel for Adam. He decided God must be testing our faith by making it look otherwise.

    Others felt they could no longer believe the bible in the light of what they were uncovering. Surely the bible was wrong? What they were rejecting though was not the bible so much as a certain way of reading it – perhaps the only one on offer to them. This may have contributed to Darwin’s personal loss of faith. Only very slowly and unevenly did the necessary discussions begin about whether the bible was ever actually doing history, and pronouncing factually, on these issues in the way so long believed. But by time he died in 1882, the agnostic, Charles Darwin, was granted a final resting place in Westminster Abbey, just around the corner from Archbishop Ussher. Four thousand years is now four thousand million years and counting.

    I find here a parable for faith and church today, facing new questions of its own around issues of human identity, relationships and belonging. The lessons to be learned are very similar. So are the consequences of resisting them.

    The Church of England regularly affirms its mission as being to ‘proclaim afresh in each generation’. This is not simply finding ever new ways of communicating inherited beliefs, though. That is where the nineteenth century church was stuck.  Faith must engage with the challenges of fresh questions and discoveries around us. Unless we are willing to do this it we will end up trapped like our Victorian forebears. The questioning is mutual.

    So what happens with doctrine means dinosaurs? Or to put it another way, how does the Christian church, in any age, in every tradition and expression within it, avoid such defensiveness, using the bible to barricade faith, rather than be trustingly and adventurously open to the new?

    For St Paul biblical faith was always something unfinished and incomplete. ‘Now we see in part’, said Paul – partially, imperfectly. ‘Now we see dimly’, he continued – obscurely (1Cor 13.9-12). Biblical faith does not yet see all this clearly or in its completeness. It never has. Being biblical involves a trusting not knowing. Christian faith is forward looking. There is always more to learn, to discover. This means the unsettling process of allowing the inherited boundaries of faith and understanding to be tested and challenged afresh. Christians need to be very careful about claiming certainty when it comes to the bible text.

    The Living in Love and Faith project reflected this in its quite new way of exploring faith and understanding. It replaced the blocks of theological knowing, of inherited faith and its outworkings, with an approach ‘marked by provisionality and humility, recognising that we are in a time of corporate not-knowing, where mystery remains as to our humanity and how we are to live our lives in a world that we do not always understand, and where God often acts in surprising ways’. (1)

    Being biblical requires the work of ‘double listening’.  

    The great evangelical teacher John Stott constantly urged this. What we need, he said, are Christian minds that are humbly “shaped by the truths of historic, biblical Christianity and also fully immersed in the realities of the contemporary world.” (2). They must meet and talk to each other and be willing to learn from each other. Neither can say of the other, `I have no need of you’.

    We have long had a developing understanding of scripture, in fact. The process of re-visiting previously unquestioned biblical convictions in the light of new questions, is not unfamiliar to us. Often fiercely resisted at first, on the basis of what ‘the bible says’, the list includes creation/evolution, cosmology, science, biology, race, women and men, and divorce and re-marriage.

    • if we don’t call divorced and remarried people adulterers and stone them.
    • if we do not expect women to be silent in church and to learn theology from their husbands at home.
    • if we borrow and lend money on interest.
    • if disabled people are not excluded from worship or ministry.
    • if we think slavery is evil.
    • if we use artificial contraception and make love without intending to conceive life …

    we have already moved significantly beyond what the bible teaches, even commands – and never revokes. Not denying divine revelation, but asking afresh what kind of revelation it is. Not denying its authority, but discerning the nature of its authority, and therefore how it speaks and guides us into the new challenges we are encountering. Each challenge requiring the faithful to revisit their understanding of scripture.

    The revered evangelical theologian, I Howard Marshall urged the need to move beyond scripture, that is, beyond the immediate surface reading of the texts. He knew there were risks involved in this, but he was clear the greater risk was being misled by only reading the Bible in an ancient time warp and refusing to go beyond the letter of scripture (3). When this happens, faith becomes inflexible and fossilized. The nineteenth church offers an example of this. Our twenty-first century church is facing similar challenges as we explore the holy mystery of human identity and belonging.

    Being biblical requires us to read the bible responsibly.

    Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes there are 613 commands in the Torah but ancient Hebrew had no word for ‘obey’. Modern Hebrew had to create a word for absolute obedience. The Hebrew words shema and lishmoa express a call to hear, listen, attend, understand. ‘Hear O Israel’. Sacks suggests, therefore, that God seeks something more from us than just obedience in the face of the commands – more than just submission and compliance. He seeks our responsibility (4). To discern what ‘following’ and ‘obeying’ means we must first hear, listen, attend and understand. English translations miss this by nearly always translating those words ‘obey’.

    Being biblical means engaging responsibly in careful discussion and dialogue with the text, with God, with our world and with each other – a work of continuing, communal discernment. When the Living in Love and Faith process put story and dialogue at the centre of its approach it could not be more biblical.

    This dialogue is found within scripture itself. For example, the way the wisdom tradition challenges the confident certainties of the dominant Deuteronomic voices – ‘Do good and you will be blessed, do bad and it will go bad’. Excuse me, says Job and others, life is not that simple. Bad things happen to good people and many evil people seem to live a long time with their health and wealth intact! Another example would be the way the books of Samuel, Kings and Chronicles offer very contrasting and sometimes contradictory assessments on the same era of Israel’s history. A critically discerning conversation or even argument is going on. Whenever the New Testament quotes from or alludes to Old Testament texts they are changed, conceptually or literally, in nearly every case. Jesus reading and preaching from Isaiah at Nazareth is a striking example of this.

    Here is a continuing revelation, in and through the scriptures, under the Lordship of Christ and the compelling of the Spirit, engaged with this emerging world. The scriptures reflect the character of the God who inspired them.  Karen Keen called her book about the inspiration and authority of the bible – ‘The Word of a Humble God’ (5). A humble God speaks a humble word to us.

    ‘The Bible says ….’

    The argument for inclusion and welcome from scripture is an accumulative one. There are no explicit texts and examples on offer. ‘Show me one text’. ‘Give me one example of blessed gay couples in scripture’. There aren’t any. It means on social media and elsewhere we can quickly sound hopelessly vague and attempting to avoid the plain meaning of the text – what ‘the bible says’. ‘Did God say?’  But this is not actually how scripture reveals, teaches and guides.

    To state the obvious – the bible is not a divine encyclopaedia with a text and example for every life question – so if ‘Blessed Gay Couples’ are not found in the index, well, they are obviously not biblical.

    Nor do we literally obey every place in the bible where there are explicit texts and examples. There are no bible texts anywhere condemning slavery, or any condemnation of polygyny, and not one example of a blessed slave-free church in the New Testament. But we would claim our opposition to slavery today is utterly scriptural. There are no examples in the bible of artificial contraception and family planning. There are no stories anywhere in the bible of blessed couples who are divorced and re-married. But in our lifetime the church has believed all this to be consistent with scripture. We have moved beyond the text of scripture believing this to be a faithful, pastoral development of orthodox, biblical doctrine.

    Finally, the church has never been a place where people all believe the same thing – least of all my own evangelical tradition. It has always been a place where there are strong differences and debates going on. It was so in the New Testament where Jew/Gentile divisions run through church life like an unresolved fault line. It was their version of our sexuality debates.

    The christian church is on a journey of understanding, and we are all in different places on the way. In 1997 Richard Hays, published The Moral Vision of the New Testament. He was already a widely respected and influential theologian. The book included a chapter on homosexuality that quickly became the definitive statement for conservative believers about the bible’s opposition to same sex relationships.

    In April this year he announced his understanding had changed and he had written a book explaining why and saying sorry. This sent shock waves through the evangelical world. Within a week two long reviews had appeared explaining why he was wrong. This was quite an achievement in itself because the book was still six months from being published at all. ‘The widening of God’s mercy’ was published last month (6). God’s mercy is always wide but here was a man humbly confessing that on this subject it is wider than he ever knew. We, like Hays, have yet to reach the end of it.

    The challenge to faith in every age is to be open to the new. To walk humbly with our God in this emerging world. For now, we see in part.

     

    It is a journey of understanding in which

    doctrine must meet dinosaurs

    texts must be tested afresh

    certainties must be questioned anew

    where bibles are no longer barricades

     

    It is a journey of faith together,

    from anxiety to adventure,

    beyond entrenchment to transformation,

    from regression to renewal

    from hostility to hospitality

     

    as we explore the ever widening revelation of God’s creating life and love.

     

    It is a biblical journey. This is Orthodox faith. Most gloriously of all, it is where we meet Christ, in the ever-widening community of his radical love.

     

    1. https://www.churchofengland.org/sites/default/files/2023-10/gs-2328-llf-nov-2023.pdf. Annex H p4.
    2. quoted in https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/trevin-wax/crucial-reminder-double-listening/
    3. I. Howard Marshall, Beyond the bible – Moving from Scripture to Theology STL. 2004. p78.
    1. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Genesis, the Book of Beginnings, OUP, 2010, p45.
    2. Karen Keen, Eerdmans. 2023.
    3. Richard B Hays. The widening of God’s mercy – Sexuality Within the Biblical Story. Yale. 2024.

     

    David Runcorn is the author of  Love means love – same-sex relationships and the bible (SPCK) and the forthcoming Playing in the dust – a pilgrimage with the creation stories (Canterbury).

     

     

  • Theological Colleges: Being a Community in the Midst of Disagreement

    by Revd Mark Vasey-Saunders, Centre Head of St Hild Sheffield and author of Defusing the Sexuality Debate (SCM, London, 2023) 

    One of the places where the current Church of England debate over sexuality is being felt quite acutely is in theological colleges. Ordinands may come into training from churches with a variety of different views, and their wider support networks may include people who are heavily involved in the debate. This means that ordinands may be faced with questions from friends and family like ‘where does College stand on this?’ or ‘what teaching are you being given on sexuality?’ where the expectation is that, if the College is not aligned with the ‘correct’ position, the ordinand should distance themselves from them in some way. They will have sponsoring bishops whose views are likely only now becoming clear (and some of whom may have acted politically within the debate in ways that are coming under intense scrutiny.) This can leave ordinands feeling very vulnerable if their bishop (who has the authority to agree or disagree to their ordination) holds a different view than them. For some ordinands towards the end of their training they may already have a curacy set up, but this will have been agreed before the vicar and PCC would have discussed how they want to respond, and views on sexuality may not have come up. Some churches may have since announced they will be using the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF). Others may have announced they will be diverting their share to the Ephesian Fund.

    On top of all this external pressure, ordinands will have their own views. Some will have very clear and decided views already, but these may have been formed before they began their theological training. Part of any educational process is to unlearn some of your earlier assumptions, and this places such ordinands in a difficult position (whether they are progressive or conservative) – do they resist the theological training they are given if they feel it might undermine some of their previous certainties, or embrace it, accepting the risk that this might change them in a way their wider support networks might find difficult? Some will never have given questions of sexuality serious thought before, and are now having to explore these questions in a highly politicised environment. All of this tends to put pressure on theological college communities, which can feel like pressure cookers at the best of times, with students wrestling with the stresses of constantly being assessed whilst going through a process of ministerial formation that often exposes areas of vulnerability and doubt.

    I work within St Hild College, which is a non-residential community training people full-time or part-time for ministry mainly in Lincoln and the three Yorkshire dioceses of Sheffield, Leeds and York. I’ve asked two of our students (names have been changed), who would take different positions on sexuality, to give their reflections on being part of the college community at this time:

    Andrew writes:

    I am entering my third and final year of theological training prior to ordination and have spent the last two years at college. As such, with the initial synod vote on the Prayers of Love and Faith coming in the February of my first year of study, this debate has, in one sense, dominated my time at college. I hold to a conservative theological position regarding gender and sexuality, and arrived at college having journeyed alongside friends who have been exploring these questions in their own lives, and having already done significant theological reflection myself in this area.

    I have found college to be a relative silo in the midst of these wider discussions in the Church of England. I have had the opportunity to re-explore more progressive approaches to gender and sexuality on their own terms through study and through conversations with other ordinands and students. I am thankful for the insight this has given me as I now feel more confident that I am able to explain progressive arguments in their own terms, rather than as a caricature. I have learnt how to better communicate my theological convictions in a way that makes it easier for me to be heard and understood by those who do not share my convictions. Similarly, I think many of my fellow students who hold to a more progressive theology are better able to articulate the conservative argument.

    I think this has been possible due to the relatively unique nature of St Hild as a “scattered” college community. By having lectures on only one day of the week, and not living in a relatively closed community, there isn’t the build-up of pressure around hot button issues that I have heard can occur in residential colleges. This potentially also allows for more direct conversations; we aren’t going to bump into each other tomorrow morning on the way to chapel or beginner’s Greek after a particularly sharp conversation the evening before. Further to this, we are all in our own parishes. Our conversations are divorced from many immediate pastoral situations. We are, in many ways, able to extract ourselves from our pastoral contexts for a day, discuss theoretically with others, and then return to our parishes.

    The most fruitful result of these conversations has been the mutual realisation and agreement that gender and sexuality is merely the presenting fruit of a more fundamental disagreement. I have been encouraged by several conversations that I have had with fellow ordinands who are as liberal as I am conservative, where we have mutually agreed that to truly respect each other we need to acknowledge the deep differences between our understandings of who Jesus is, what he calls sin, and what redemption and salvation look like in the lives of Christians. Not just this, but also that there are significant, potentially mutually exclusive, differences in our basic philosophical and theological presuppositions regarding the nature of God and revelation. This has been accompanied by a mutual dissatisfaction with what we perceive to be the position of the House of Bishops: that these are minor disagreements  and really we can ‘all just get along.’ This feels disrespectful of both of our theological positions, underestimates the differences in how we believe we need to respond pastorally to those most deeply affected by questions of gender and sexuality in our respective communities, and by downplaying all of this is increasing the division we perceive in the church, not reducing it.

    This perception has only increased for me since the July 2024 Synod. The conversations mentioned above initially took place in April 2022. Even then, at the very start of the discussions about PLF, both these self-described liberal ordinands and I knew that legally protected forms of differentiation, as defined by those who would need it, such as transferred episcopal oversight, would now be a necessity. (Though we did not have the precise language at the time.) It is frustrating that, to an outside observer, similar conversations and acknowledgments would not appear to have been forthcoming from the House of Bishops or at General Synod. This is essential not only for the wider Church of England, but also for colleges such as St Hild. The conversations across the breadth of tradition and theology in St Hild that make it a unique place is highly dependent on there being a breadth of tradition and theology amongst ordinands. Unless the House of Bishops take seriously the need for suitable, legal, provision these conversations will quietly cease, not because ordinands don’t want to have them, but because there will not be ordinands of different theological convictions around to have them.

     

    Ben writes:

    There are few things more dangerous on the motorway than a theological debate taking place at 70mph. This is the temptation, however, at 7am on a Monday morning when driving to St Hild Sheffield. With three students in the car, two of whom are Church of England Ordinands, the subject of Prayers of Love and Faith has come up multiple times. Whether it’s the interpretation of scripture, or the drama of a synod debate, there is often something discuss, and each of us in the car holds a different opinion. (Pray for us ordinands when we think this is where we should get our excitement.) There have been no motorway accidents thankfully, but I have learnt that sometimes what it is most important to remember is that we are sharing the same car. Safety for all means keeping your eyes on the road, not scoring a point in the current debate, however heated it’s got. This principle has also applied to discussions of PLF outside of the car too.

     For myself, I have grown up in evangelical churches but also come to a broader view on the issue of LGBTQ+ inclusion than I had 15 or some years ago. For me the question over same sex blessings is not a “first order” or “salvation” issue, and I am happy to let the issue sit with the conscience of each individual. I am also convinced that churches need to be a genuinely safe space for any LGBTQ+ individual who walks through the door.

    While studying, I have found discussing these issues with other students from different perspectives to be hugely beneficial. Conversations have always been respectful and constructive, with nobody’s views being dismissed out of hand. At times, the college has provided guided conversations with updates on PLF too, where tutors with differing opinions have set a tone of understanding and provided context to the debate. As ordinands, questions as big as these do create worry about our future ministry and where we might fit into the Church of England. Many of us will not have publicly declared a position on these debates before, or been asked to make decisions which will change how our church members and communities will see us. I found sharing these worries with other ordinands to be reassuring, especially as we are all still finding our feet. Also, having tutors who can help calm some of these worries and address the wilder speculations on where the church might be heading is essential. This is just as beneficial for those still working out their opinion on PLF, and for those who feel stuck in the middle of the debate, simply worried that a church they love is about to tear itself apart.

     For me, if holding Christian unity over this issue means anything, it means that we must see those with a different view as still loved by God, and accept that God may still be speaking to others, even if they seem to be heading in a different direction to ourselves. A college with a diverse range of students with differing views has been a vital way to model this in a safe environment. My biggest fear in all of this are the calls for structural differentiation of ordinand training, which may create a college environment where ordinands never meet someone from the other side of the debate. After all, once you arrive in a parish, no church is going to hold a uniform view on this either, and the world certainly won’t. If we can’t speak to each other civilly about issues of sexuality, what hope does the church have of speaking to the world?  Similarly, if formation and training is to be a place where we can be made more like Christ, there has to be the possibility that we might get something wrong at times and there needs to be grace for trainees to change our minds.

     

    The St Hild experience may not be the same for all Theological Colleges. The fact that ordinands have been prominent signatories to various statements within the ongoing LLF debates demonstrates that in some places ordinands have felt their very ability to continue training for ministry to be threatened by developments in the wider church. As Andrew notes above, there is something peculiar about the nature of a non-residential college that both creates enough security and sense of shared community to allow vulnerability and genuine conversation and allows enough space for tensions to dissipate. It is part of the nature of theological training to allow and encourage debate and reflection however, and to this extent I suspect that these sorts of experiences are true of many of the Church of England’s TEIs.

    It’s important not to romanticise the kind of discussions both Andrew and Ben describe above as valuable parts of their training. These are costly conversations, and there have been times where that has been felt keenly by the community as a whole. Students with passionate convictions on either side may at times have to carefully weigh up the costs of speaking openly to both themselves and the wider community, and find themselves self-editing or remaining silent as a consequence. Some students are deeply vulnerable in ways others aren’t, and in ways that may not be immediately clear to those around them – not least because when the topic of discussion is sexuality, some students will find themselves the ones being discussed. Staff must carefully weigh up how to frame teaching in these areas in order to allow students of any and all convictions to engage with the strongest exponents of positions they may find offensive or personally threatening, whilst maintaining a safe learning environment. All of this in the knowledge that if they get the balance wrong, and students feel they are being attacked, or a particular view is being forced on them, then the reputational damage to the College can be immense.

    Creating a space where people can learn means creating a space where people feel vulnerable (even if that vulnerability is simply the admission of your own ignorance). But creating a space where people can be vulnerable carries the risk that people can be hurt. To borrow Ben’s metaphor of debating while driving at 70 mph, we want everyone in the car to hold an awareness of the inherent riskiness in what they are doing. The really dangerous thing is for people to not feel that they are in danger. To not have the conversations and pretend none of this stuff matters very much. Or to have the conversations without much awareness that some outcomes will dramatically affect all the occupants of the car you’re driving in.

    There is an extent to which having difficult conversations with a high awareness of risk is what the wider church needs to learn to do. LLF was originally conceived as an invitation to engage in learning together. But in many places LLF courses weren’t run. The difficult conversations didn’t happen. But when we avoid the difficult conversations we don’t avoid risk. We’re just not aware of it. As I reflect on Andrew and Ben’s experience of difficult conversations and what they’ve learnt from them I find myself feeling hopeful for the future of the church. Neither of them have massively changed their mind on these questions through their time at college. But they’ve learned and grown through the conversations they’ve had, and they’ve become a lot more used to talking to people they disagree with and still recognising them as brothers and sisters in Christ. Ultimately, having had difficult conversations once, they are likely to see the value of doing it more in the future and helping to build a church where having difficult conversations is normal.

    We need to get used to church not being a comfortable place. Because, for some people, it never has been.

     

  • 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.

     

     

     

  • 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.

  • Where is the Colour? The CEEC Commissioning of Overseers: A Theological and Ecclesiological Critique

    by Revd Dr Augustine Tanner-Ihm, Lead Minister of Saint Nicholas Church, Kingsway, Manchester

    The recent commissioning of overseers by the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) necessitates a critical theological and ecclesiological examination. This decision appears to undermine both the doctrinal foundations of the Church of England and its commitment to inclusivity and diversity. This article will explore the theological implications, the postcolonial context, and the historical and current Church of England stances on diversity, arguing that the CEEC’s actions reflect a troubling trend of white elitism. Regardless of one’s position on the structures that the CEEC has chosen – personally, I disagree with them – the lack of racial awareness remains an important issue.

    Theological Foundations and Ecclesiological Implications

    The doctrine of the Church of England is grounded in the principles of inclusivity, universality, and the imago Dei—the belief that all humans are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). This foundational doctrine calls the Church to embrace and reflect the diversity of God’s creation. The Apostle Paul’s teaching in Galatians 3:28 underscores this inclusive vision: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

    However, the CEEC’s recent commissioning of exclusively white overseers starkly contradicts these theological tenets. By failing to represent the rich diversity of the global Anglican Communion, the CEEC undermines the universality of the Church and perpetuates a form of ecclesiastical homogeneity that is theologically untenable.

    Postcolonial Critique and the Legacy of Colonialism

    A postcolonial analysis illuminates the CEEC’s recent actions as reminiscent of colonial practices that prioritize white, European leadership while marginalizing non-white voices. The insistence on “orthodox” bishops, purportedly to align with the theological stances of Black, Brown, and Asian Anglicans, is profoundly ironic, given that none of the appointed overseers come from these communities. Instead this practice perpetuates a colonialist framework where theological and ecclesiastical leadership is dominated by white elites, effectively silencing the diverse voices within the Anglican Communion.

    According to the CEEC, these are the first overseers to be commissioned, with more to follow. However, an article in Anglican Ink reveals that those to be commissioned later have already been chosen, a fact that raises concerns about inclusivity and transparency. Despite the presence of a few Global Majority Heritage (GMH) individuals on the CEEC Board of Trustees, this issue seems to have been overlooked. This could be due to a phenomenon some theologians describe as Theological Stockholm Syndrome, where marginalized individuals align with and support their oppressors’ frameworks and structures.

    This critique echoes the sentiment expressed by African American activist and writer Audre Lorde, who famously stated, “For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master’s house as their only source of support” (Lorde, 1984). The trustees appear to have been co-opted by the very tools of colonialism rather than seeking the liberation of others.

    In other words, they have succumbed to a role reminiscent of the “Uncle Tom” figure in African American vernacular, serving the interests of the dominant group at the expense of their communities. This dynamic underscores the urgent need for a truly inclusive and representative ecclesiastical leadership within the Church of England.

    For some time now, evangelical Anglicans – when arguing about unity within the Anglican communion – have used disagreements on LGBTQIA+ inclusion to say the Church of England is ignoring the voices of the so-called “Global South”. It is persons with more of an inclusive/progressive view on sexuality and gender identity who have been called racist or who have been claimed by conservatives to be demonstrating a colonial way of thinking.  Yet the framework that was put together is a farce. As a black man who is gay and evangelical, it saddens me that my siblings in Christ would use such a horrible tactic.

    For instance, as a black American man who can trace my lineage directly to slavery, I feel extremely uncomfortable with the word “overseers”. As many Anglicans would know, overseers were used to keep the enslaved blacks in check, to make sure they would not follow their conscience and be moved by the Spirit for freedom. Overseers were harsh white men from a privileged class that would propagate violence and torture against people that looked like me. Overseers would be the very drivers of enslavement. But if it is claimed that this is simply a word from the Bible, then it is translating episkopos; but that means they are Bishops! Therefore, which one is it?

    Kwok Pui-lan’s postcolonial theological framework critiques the Western-centric dominance in ecclesiastical structures, advocating for a decolonized approach that genuinely incorporates and values the perspectives of Christians from the Global South. The CEEC’s actions, therefore, can be seen as a continuation of colonial patterns of exclusion and control, rather than a move towards true inclusivity and representation.

    Historical and Current Stances on Diversity

    Historically, the Church of England has struggled with issues of racial and cultural inclusion. The Lambeth Conference of 1988 recognized the need for the Church to repent of its complicity in racism and colonialism, calling for greater inclusivity within its structures. More recently, the “Lament to Action” report highlighted the persistent racial inequalities within the Church of England, urging systemic changes to address these injustices.

    Despite these acknowledgements and calls to action, the CEEC’s commissioning of an all-white overseer body demonstrates a significant lapse in the Church’s commitment to these goals. This move not only disregards the recommendations of the “Lament to Action” report but also undermines the Church’s public witness to racial justice and equality.

    White Elitism and Ecclesiastical Purity

    The theological justification for an all-white overseer body under the guise of maintaining orthodoxy is a manifestation of white elitism. This elitism privileges white theological perspectives and leadership, marginalizing the rich theological contributions of Black, Brown, and Asian Anglicans. Such a stance is antithetical to the inclusive vision of the Gospel and the ecclesiological commitment to the catholicity of the Church.

    The Church of England’s commitment to being a national church requires it to reflect the diversity of the nation it serves. The homogeneous composition of the CEEC overseers fails to embody this national and theological mandate, suggesting a retreat into a narrow, exclusionary vision of the Church that is more concerned with preserving white dominance than with embodying the inclusive love of Christ.

    Not Reflecting the Vision of a Younger and More Diverse Church

    Prominent theologian Paul Avis has consistently emphasized the importance of the Church being a community that embodies the diversity and unity of the body of Christ. The Church of England has been striving to be younger and more diverse, a theme central to its mission in contemporary society. This vision aims to ensure that the Church is relevant and reflective of the multifaceted nature of the population it serves, both in England and globally.

    The CEEC’s decision to commission an exclusively white group of overseers starkly contrasts with this goal too. It suggests a failure to engage with and integrate the younger, more diverse demographics that are vital for the Church’s future. The Church of England is attempting to move beyond its historical legacy of exclusion and to foster a community where all are represented and valued. By ignoring the vibrant, diverse voices within the Anglican Communion, the CEEC undermines this essential mission and risks alienating younger generations who seek a Church that is inclusive and representative of all God’s people.

    A Call to Action

    The commissioning of the CEEC overseers must therefore serve as a wake-up call for the Church of England. It is imperative that the Church actively works to dismantle structures of white elitism and to foster a genuinely inclusive leadership that reflects the diversity of the Anglican Communion. This requires not only appointing “overseers” from diverse racial and cultural backgrounds but also engaging in deep, systemic change to ensure that all voices are heard and valued. I disagree with my siblings in Christ, and yes, I call them siblings because even though I strongly disagree, I have love and respect for them as people who are co-heirs with Christ.

    Theological orthodoxy is not about maintaining a narrow, exclusionary vision of the Church. It is about embodying the fullness of the Gospel, which calls us to love, inclusivity, and justice. As we move forward, let us commit to a vision of the Church that truly reflects the diversity of God’s creation and the inclusive nature of the Gospel.

    References:

    1. CEEC Overseers Commissioned in London for the Church of England
    2. Bishop of Oxford Rejects the Alliance’s Call for a Third Province Should LLF be Introduced
    3. “Lament to Action” Report, Church of England, 2021.
    4. Kwok Pui-lan, Postcolonial Imagination and Feminist Theology, Westminster John Knox Press, 2005.
    5. The Lambeth Conference Reports, 1988.
    6. Paul Avis, The Identity of Anglicanism: Essentials of Anglican Ecclesiology, T&T Clark, 2008.
    7. Paul Avis, In Search of Authority: Anglican Theological Method from the Reformation to the Enlightenment, Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2014.