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Category: Culture and Faith

  • More than Theology? How Beliefs About Women’s Ordination are Socially Rooted

    by Dr Alex Fry, Senior Lecturer in the Sociology of Health and Illness at Bournemouth University and author of Gender Inequality in the Ordained Ministry of the Church of England: Examining Conservative Male Clergy Responses to Women Priests and Bishops*

    Part I: Why bother with the social sciences?

    The Christian tradition has an extensive history of seeking wisdom wherever it may be found. Before science as we now know it emerged, natural philosophy was the attempt to understand the natural world. This was a task regularly taken up by Church leaders and theologians, underpinned by the conviction that the world was God’s and could tell us about Him. In fact, this is something Paul indicates in Romans 1:20: “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made…” (NIV). True enough, Paul writes immediately after that sin has darkened the minds of humans so that they reject God’s revelation in creation. However, for the Christian this is surely not true. They recognise that the world is created by God. Whilst that does not mean that they are sinless, they cannot be entirely blind to God’s revelation in creation if they believe, along with the Psalmist, that it reflects His glory (Psalm 19:1).

    As historians will tell you, confidence that we can discover God in His world has, since the Reformation, led to the development of modern scientific inquiry. And this theological enterprise was the catalyst for many of our now taken-for-granted scientific discoveries. Believing that the world was created and explorable led to discoveries of order and rules within it. We call these regularities. This seems pre-empted in Genesis 1; God creates an orderly world, separating day and night as well as sky and sea. Commanding Adam to name the different animals in creation invites humanity to recognise and work with this order. Adam could categorise the different species because God created them with patterns that enabled Adam to distinguish between, say, a cow and a sheep.

    The biblical vision of creation sees the entire created world as very good (Genesis 1:31). Hence all of creation, not merely human souls, is redeemed by God (Romans 8:22). In other words, Christians are not at liberty to fall into the trap of dualism, separating the created, ordered world from the spiritual reality of God. Such dualism is more Platonic or Aristotelian than Judaeo-Christian.

    But what does any of this have to do with what Christians believe about women’s role in the Church? Well, human beings are a part of that creation, created with regularities. As with the rest of the created world, how humans think and behave – and why – is something that can be studied. So we can inquire where our beliefs about women’s ordination – a hotly contested and divisive topic – come from. How are they affected by our wider environment?

    Recognising regularities and patterns does not mean reducing human beings to mere processes. Being made in the image of God includes a level of consciousness and free will which means that our thoughts and actions are not predetermined by the world around us. Rather, we are influenced by it. Nor should the establishment of regularities be used disingenuously, as a vehicle of oppression. This has happened historically when there has been a naivety about the social, cultural and political forces that influence scientific inquiry, leading to its distortion and misuse. The nineteenth and twentieth centuries are, regrettably, clear windows into the implications of such distortion of the intellect. The Holocaust, slavery, and the subjugation of women as legal property are just three painful examples, believed at the time to be rooted in a natural order. Sometimes the Church has been caught up in these kinds of evils; there are hard lessons to be learnt if such sins are to be resisted in the future.

    Academia is not perfect, because humans are not. There must be room left for evidence-based doubt and the humility to re-think previous conclusions when new data requires it. This is a prerequisite of any advancement in knowledge. Equally, healthy scepticism mustn’t give way to corrosive cynicism. The erosion of trust with society’s institutions (albeit sometimes understandably) can fuel conspiracy theories where the proverbial baby is thrown out with the bathwater. Rationality demands that we follow the evidence, however inconvenient or contrary to our presumptions.

    Social science in academia is a very broad area that consists of many evidence-based disciplines. There has been a heightened awareness of some of its branches with the public conversation often turning to disagreements over ‘identity politics’. Owing to the soundbite culture of much of our media, social scientific theories and concepts are often inadequately articulated and badly understood outside academia. There are many attacks on straw men as a result.

    My own research on clergy attitudes to women spans sociology, social psychology and historical analysis. In what follows, I will unpack the theories and concepts I drew on from these disciplines and explain the light they shed on clergymen’s attitudes towards women’s ordination in the Church of England. Much of my argument rests on demonstrating how the attitudes of clergymen reflect regularities (or patterns) in human behaviour that we know a lot about because they have been evidenced and re-evidenced time and again. My participants’ characteristics, behaviours and thinking reflect several regularities that have been identified across decades and continents. Because these clergymen mirror with great consistency what we already know about human beings, studying these affinities allows me to speak meaningfully about the social causes of clergy gender attitudes.

    Part II: What are clergymen’s attitudes towards women?

    My recent book, Gender Inequality in the Ordained Ministry of the Church of England, explores the social origins of attitudes towards women’s ordination held by theologically conservative male clergy. By ‘attitudes’ I mean beliefs, emotions and behaviours towards something, in this case women priests and bishops. By ‘theologically conservative’ I mean clergymen in the evangelical and traditional Anglo-Catholic wings of the Church. My analysis also involved looking at participants’ broader gender attitudes to contextualise their theology on women’s ordination in light of their attitudes towards women more generally. I spoke with 13 Anglo-Catholics, 14 charismatic evangelicals and 14 conservative evangelicals. Participants were initially sought via their involvement with tradition-specific networks, including Forward in Faith (traditional Anglo-Catholic), New Wine (charismatic evangelical) and Reform (conservative evangelical), but I also interviewed those recommended to me by participants as being in their tradition-specific network of clergy.

    All interviews took place with clergy serving in one specific diocese, chosen as a microcosm of the Church of England, including urban, suburban and rural areas, and large numbers of parishes reflecting each of the Church’s traditions (including those not explored in the book). I also kept interviewing clergy until I was getting the same answers from interview to interview within each tradition (otherwise known as data saturation). This is unsurprising given that clergy within each tradition tended to have similar educational backgrounds, went to the same theological colleges, and move in the same social and professional networks. One would anticipate a significant degree of similarity within a given network on a subject that has received much discussion and rehearsal of theology.

    The microcosmic nature of the diocese and the data saturation are additional factors that allow me to make representative claims about clergymen from these traditions beyond the diocese in question. However, there are caveats, such as cases where the sharper, more reactionary elements of participants’ gender attitudes are curtailed, for example in dioceses where conservative traditions have a stronger presence. In other words, my findings are likely to be generally true across the Church of England but not necessarily in every minute way.

    Of course, attitudes towards women’s ordination differed by tradition and, to a more limited extent, within each tradition. Overall, traditional Anglo-Catholics resisted the move because: the efficacy of women’s sacramental ministry was in question; the Roman Catholic Church is yet to ordain women; and the apostolic tradition has (supposedly) always been male. These clergymen are typically comfortable with women deacons but reject the validity of women priests and bishops. Conservative evangelicals have no issue with ordaining women per se but do not believe they should lead or teach men in church contexts, on the basis of passages like 1 Timothy 2: 11-15. Charismatic evangelicals, by way of contrast, tend not to oppose women’s ordination to any part of the Church’s ordained ministry, seeing evidence of women leading God’s people in the Bible as well as contextual factors explaining away any apparent gender conservatism in the New Testament.

    Those amongst the traditional Anglo-Catholic and conservative evangelicals who rejected the validity of women’s ordination as priests and their consecration as bishops regularly evidenced prejudicial attitudes. Here, I am using a well-tested psychological definition of prejudice rather than assuming that a conservative theology must, by definition, always be sexist.

    This definition of prejudice begins with Gordon Allport’s work in The Nature of Prejudice from the 1950s (with roots going back to the 1930s). Over the decades it has been tested and refined with a collection of newer research celebrating its success. In essence, prejudice (or sexism when it is gender-related) has three components: rejection of and hostility towards others from ‘outgroups’; faulty generalisations (or caricatures) about these outgroups; and rejection of evidence that would undermine these faulty generalisations.

    Since the 1990s a body of research has shown that this is only half the picture when it comes to women. The type of prejudice identified by Allport and verified by many others is a form of hostile sexism, but there is another type called ‘benevolent sexism’ (I prefer ‘indirect sexism’). Such sexism can appear positive on the surface but actually undermines conceptions of women’s competence (e.g., the belief that all women need a man’s protection as the allegedly weaker sex). Hostile sexism is present amongst traditional Anglo-Catholics and both forms of sexism amongst conservative evangelicals. Charismatic evangelicals often evidenced some elements of hostile sexism, but their attitudes fall short of meeting the full psychological definition.

    In essence, my participants’ gender attitudes result from what I term intersecting social strata. This is the simple idea that a series of social factors converge to shape gender attitudes. What do these intersecting social strata look like for theologically conservative clergymen?

    The term self-esteem gets used a lot in pop psychology, and we tend to assume we know what it is but can struggle to define it. Self-esteem is a sociometer; it helps us to understand the extent to which we feel valued. We all pursue self-esteem in various ways, sometimes healthily, sometimes not. Research shows that, when our self-esteem becomes threatened – when the sources of our positive evaluations are in question – we can react negatively towards the group perceived to be threatening our self-esteem.

    The sources of our self-esteem are rooted in the social groups we most identify with. For my participants this was other male clergy in their particular Anglican tradition. Groups united by a shared identity also tend to seek reasons for bolstering the status of that group in the pursuit of self-esteem. This is especially true with groups of higher social status. This regularly leads to forms of discrimination towards and undue generalisations about those who do not share this identity. As I’ve already pointed out, faulty generalisations form prejudice.

    Those I interviewed were typically: from middle-class families; well-educated at school level (e.g., possessing a private education); attended Russell Group universities, particularly Oxbridge (including prior to ordination training); white; and, of course, male. Whilst a small minority did not fit this description in its entirety, the groups as units clearly do. The dominant characteristics impact the group culture as one would expect. Crucially, group norms are adopted by those within it. This means that the values, expectations etc of that group are ‘owned’ by its individual members. In fact, the eminent historian Diarmaid MacCulloch has argued that male clergy reaction against increasing gender equality stems from the reduced hegemony that they have traditionally enjoyed or would expect to enjoy by virtue of belonging to a group endowed with the power of leadership.

    I argue that the source of threatened self-esteem for conservative evangelicals and traditional Anglo-Catholics is the advent of women priests and bishops. Significant amounts of data show the roots of sexism – chiefly stereotyping – lie in self-esteem threats to one’s social group and, in these groups, there is the desire to maintain high levels of self-esteem via group belonging, with women – especially clergywomen – as the object of prejudice in this case. Most of those interviewed had also opted into networks established to oppose the ordination of women as priests, making it the cornerstone of their social group.

    This alone goes a long way in explaining the origins of participants’ sexism, but other factors bolster it. One is the regularity and quality of contact with clergywomen. Limited contact with outgroups serves to reinforce prejudice because the stereotypes about them remain largely unchallenged. Research shows that, for contact to reduce prejudice, it must be willing and ongoing, with in and outgroups having equal status, and being supported in their contact by relevant authorities. The two groups must have some co-operative dependency upon each other and must seek common goals. Such contact rarely occurred amongst the Anglo-Catholics and conservative evangelicals I interviewed.

    Another factor is one’s gender schemata. These are mental frameworks that many of us develop in childhood to interpret any information we receive about gender throughout our lives, often leading us to neglect information that doesn’t correspond to the assumptions we pick up early in life. The conservative evangelicals interviewed possessed sex-typed schemata; these are more traditional and stereotypical beliefs about men and women. The traditional Anglo-Catholics did not provide much evidence of their schemata. This can be explained by the fact that heterosexuals are more likely to have such schemata and around half of the Anglo-Catholics I interviewed were gay.

    But what about theological hermeneutics? There are multiple ways of approaching biblical texts and, even if we don’t realise it, we all make hermeneutical choices when interpreting the Bible. The conservative evangelicals interviewed were influenced by US evangelical writings, especially by Wayne Grudem and John Piper. This led to a hermeneutic that was neither entirely plain meaning (sometimes thought of as literalistic) nor entirely contextualised in light of the Bible’s historical and cultural contexts. This makes it much easier to read passages like 1 Timothy 2 and conclude that women should not lead men in the Church. Such hermeneutics are favourable to conservative evangelicals, aiding their pursuit of self-esteem and being congruent with their existing gender schemata. Similarly, Church tradition is handled selectively by the traditional Anglo-Catholics who tended to ignore insights from biblical scholarship and Church history indicating the presence of female apostles.

    It should be noted that such processes are subconscious and so awareness of these factors influencing participants’ gender attitudes are unrecognised by them. Of course, by bringing them to light there is the possibility that this could change. Also worth bearing in mind is that reduced contact between these clergymen and women priests and bishops can be unhelpfully encouraged by those whose theology leads to rejecting them precisely because of their theology, making them retreat into the networks that reinforce their gender attitudes.

    That leaves us with the charismatic evangelicals. Why have they not evidenced the full criteria for sexism? This can be explained via three means. First, their own gender schemata are androgynous, meaning that their assumptions about what it is to be a man or a woman are more flexible than traditional and stereotypical. Second, the quality of contact they have with clergywomen reflects the types of contact that undermine prejudice, noted above. Third, their gender attitudes can be explained by the fact that their particular Anglican tradition has an extended history of female leadership, even before the ordination of women, meaning that the presence of women priests and bishops was not a threat to their social group. They thus also feel more comfortable with hermeneutics that would allow for the conclusion that women may be ordained as priests and bishops.

    Naturally, there are more theological questions to be asked and answered in light of all of this information and I cannot unpack them all here. Nevertheless, these will receive attention in a follow-up book I am writing for a specifically Christian audience, with the aim of helping church leaders and interested lay people reflect on all of this theologically and in practical ways.

     

    *The e-book can be bought with 45% off with the discount code ADJF45, currently available until April 2024. The paperback is due for release in 2025.

  • Language, Warfare and Lawfare – Gaza in Perspective

    by the Very Revd. Canon Professor Martyn Percy, Fellow at University of Edinburgh, King’s College London & Harris Manchester College Oxford

    An obvious observation to make is, ‘what perspective?’ There seems to be so little on the current crisis engulfing Gaza and beyond, only noise, solidarity-signalling and fury matched by long silences and the unsaid. There are plenty of points of view, to be sure. But they’re not quite the same as perspectives.

    The terms ‘perspective’ and ‘point of view’ are frequently used as though synonymous. They are not. A point of view is a space or place from which a story is told or unfolds. A perspective, however, is the analysis of the events and actors, and their motivations, beliefs and conduct. Perspectives can take account of worldviews, culture, heritage and experience. While a point of view might assert or argue the ‘when’, ‘who’ and the ‘what’ of history, a perspective should offer illumination on the ‘why’, ‘how’ and intended meanings of sources.

    So when a group of prominent Jewish lawyers recently published a letter (Financial Times, 17 October) and issued a statement from the Balfour Project, it was immediately apparent that this was a perspective worthy of heeding. Lord Neuberger, Former President of the UK Supreme Court, Philippe Sands KC, Sandra Fredman, University of Oxford, with several others, argued that the laws of war must guide Israel’s response to the Hamas atrocity of October 7th:

    We write as Jews, many of us with family and friends directly affected by the tragedy that has befallen Israel. Like so many others, the vile crimes perpetrated by Hamas in Israel have shaken us to our core. We also write in our capacity as lawyers. We do so because, instilled with our Jewish values, we believe that law, and the adherence to the rule of law, provide an invaluable guide to begin to make sense of what we are witnessing and to provide a path to govern responses to it. In these darkest of days, we write to emphasise the importance of international law as a guide to all.

    In their published statement, they go on to say that “one war crime must not…be avenged by committing another”, and that

    …nothing can justify the ‘complete siege of the Gaza Strip’ declared by the Israeli Government. Denying electricity, food, water, medicine and fuel to a civilian population is a war crime committed by a state… All human life is equal.

    The authors note that Gaza is the most densely populated land on our planet and, as the occupying power, “Israel has a clear legal obligation to safeguard the welfare of the civilians” yet by an “unprecedented aerial bombardment and threatened ground offensive, Israel is inflicting horrendous loss of life on over two million civilians”. Others will claim the rules of war allow for an entirely different perspective, and may argue that action in the cause of self-defence, even proactive, is legitimate. That the ends justify the means, no matter the cost.

    Where mediation may yet help all the parties out of this apocalypse, it will be the law that resolves the crisis. The Balfour Project statement was judicious in referring to Jewish law and our shared obligations under international law. At this moment, that emphasis is right and proper. Yet ancient Jewish law also offers a helpful perspective on the present conflict, not least because, at core level, this is part of our shared legal ecology across the developed world.

    In the New University Library at St. Andrews, Fife, affixed to a wall, is a quotation from James Wilson, dating from Philadelphia in 1768. Wilson grew up in Fife. In the New World he became a leading legal authority who helped to frame the independence declared from 1776. His words are bold in their simplicity:

    All men are by nature equal and free. No-one has a right to any authority over another without his consent…lawful government is founded on the consent of those who are subject to it.

    Contemporary readers of Thomas Paine’s influential pamphlet Common Sense (1776) are frequently surprised by the amount of space he devotes to scriptural reasoning. Paine, a British-born but pro-American independence politician, noted that, for the ancient Jews, monarchy was an idolatrous delusion contrary to Mosaic Law. In the Old Testament, strong, singular, entitled and unaccountable leadership was forbidden.

    Instead the Israelites’ preferred form of governance was that of the Judges – Joshua, Gideon, Deborah and others – who placed themselves under the Law, clear that it was “the Lord God who rules over you”. Gideon declined to be anointed King (Judges 8), telling the Israelites that kingship was not theirs to bestow upon him. Gideon was opposed to dynastic, inherited kingship, regarding it as ‘heathen’.

    The Old Testament promoted an alternative – a form of ‘positive liberty’ that was based on a just social order (c.f. Isaiah Berlin, Four Essays on Liberty (OUP, 1969), pp. 118-172). Leviticus, for example, demands that those who lose their livelihoods are supported by their neighbours. The lives, lands, and livestock of the vulnerable are protected. The Old Testament holiness code is one that promotes interdependence.

    The holiness code also limited the power of any monarch or ruler. A king must be one of your kin (Deuteronomy 17:14-20), and not above the citizens. Crucially, the only role the monarch has is to study, practice, dispense and obey the law. Please note, our leaders today – whether elected or imposed – should be upholders of the law, not lobbying the Court of Appeal trying to change law in order to secure conservative right-wing political cache.

    Old Testament laws were regarded as directly mediated from God. As the covenant between God and humanity, they transformed a legal code into collective sacred duty. The covenant reminded Israel of its fate when it was denied rights and legal protection:

    …remember when you were a slave in Egypt…God redeemed you from there. I, God, therefore command you to observe and protect the rights of the orphan, widow, alien and vulnerable (Deuteronomy 24: 18-22).

    What was crucial to Jewish identity (and arguably remains the case) is not whether an individual believes in God, but rather, do they observe the law? The obligations to follow the law are fundamental.

    Today, this attitude to law has transmuted into a much wider fundamental respect for judges, legislature and the jurisdiction of the state. We believe it is the law that is the ultimate authority, with politicians, including any President, constrained by their constitution.

    Which brings us to Gaza. Since 1650 BCE it probably ranks as one of the oldest continuously occupied cities in history. In old Arabic, its name means ‘fierce, strong’. Conquered by ancient empires – Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Assyrian, Philistine, Canaanite and Persian – by the time of Jesus’ ministry, it was a model of diversity with a multi-ethnic governing assembly.

    Gaza is cited by name in Jewish, Christian and Muslim sacred writings. Sometimes it is just a geographical reference, and no more. The Ethiopian Eunuch – a black, African transgendered individual whose name we never learn, became the first recorded African convert to Christianity (Acts Chapter 8) while travelling in a chariot on the road between Jerusalem and Gaza.

    Over the last two thousand years Gaza city has been held by the Byzantine and Mongol empires, captured by the crusaders, and conquered by Islamic and Ottoman forces. Today, around two million people live there – a mixture of Sunni Muslims and Palestinian Christians, comprising Protestant, Anglican and Roman Catholic. Several hundred thousand live in one of the eight refugee camps in the territory, after exile from the Arab-Israeli conflicts of 1948, 1967 (Six Day War) and 1973 (Yom Kippur War). The Gaza Strip was ceded to the Palestinian Authority under the terms of the 1993 Oslo Accord, with Israel finally vacating possession in 2004.

    In the wider Gaza province and suburbs, the population numbers around two million people, crammed into an area the size of Sevenoaks in Kent. Incidentally, Sevenoaks has a population of 29,000 – and one need not dwell too much on what expanding a Kentish town’s population by close to one-hundredfold might do to a sitting Conservative MP’s prospects at the next election.

    So far as we know, Jesus never visited Gaza. Yet he was well-acquainted with places and peoples who had been subjected to multiple illegal occupation, exile, invasion and domination. One could say that Jesus’ entire ministry is spent among an assortment of the dispossessed, disinherited and decimated. Yet the core proclamation from this young rabbi was essentially one of peace and justice.

    Jesus came from Nazareth (Galilee), but his birth was in Bethlehem, Judea. But had there been no census at Bethlehem, Jesus would have been born in Galilee. This territory was not part of the Roman Empire. Galilee was a ‘client province’ of the Empire, and under the heel of Rome, but allowed to be ruled by the Herodian Dynasty. Herod and his son, Antipas were ‘kings’ in the lifetime of Jesus, but mere puppet rulers there to keep order on the edge of an Empire, granted titles and freedoms in return for loyalty.

    When it came to the trials of Jesus prior to his crucifixion, Pilate washed his hands of the affair because Jesus, as a Galilean, was not subject to Roman law or jurisdiction. Nor was Jesus subject to Judean law. The Sadducees, Scribes and Pharisees wanted Jesus tried under Jewish law, but neither Herod nor Pilate could oblige. The High Priests argued blasphemy should lead to the automatic death penalty, but the only way of achieving that end was to avoid a trial altogether, and judge and condemn Jesus without any due legal process. That is precisely what happens. Remember Caiaphas’ words: “…what need have we of witnesses?!”

    Such was the vengeful hysteria, sentence was passed on Jesus before trial. He was denied due legal process, because were that to have happened, he would most likely have been acquitted.

    The statement from the eminent Jewish lawyers of the Balfour Project is a reminder that the only common ground we stand on in a screaming, violent apocalyptic crisis is uncompromising practice of the law. It is the calm reasoning of human rights and due legal process that need to be heard above the cacophony of shouts for vengeance. The only way to bring about peace – and quiet – is justice.

     

     

  • Young Christianity Today

    by Sorrel Christian, a student and a multiply-disabled queer Christian. They enjoy writing and are particularly interested in crip theology and ecumenism

    My name is Sorrel Christian, I am a student in my early 20s, and I am a queer disabled Christian. I became a member of the United Reformed Church a few years ago. However, due to the only URC in my area not having approved same-sex marriage, it having been allowed on a church-by-church basis since 2016) when I’m not at university I’m currently worshipping with a local independent church community. I also attended a Roman Catholic sixth form college, and have had both helpful and harmful experiences in the Church of England in my ongoing journey to a committed faith.

    It will come as no surprise that the established church as a whole tends to have a poor reputation amongst my peers. Years of anti-LGBTQ+ and anti-disabled rhetoric and action from powerful churches has led to a deep mistrust and fear within these overlapping communities in all age ranges, particularly when it comes to the Roman Catholic Church and the Church of England. And it often seems like the powers that be do little to help themselves. Sex education and compulsory RE in Catholic sixth form was entirely heteronormative, with no mention of any other type of potential sexual encounter, gender non-conformity, or even an acknowledgement that the many LGBTQ+ youth at the college existed. One of the most powerful and well-known Church of England churches in my university town does not accept same-sex marriage or women in ministry. Such experiences give a strong impression, even amongst young people who are not part of the LGBTQ+ community, that organised religion is backwards looking, limited, and not in sync with anything they care about.

    Having said all that, I have found my non-Christian peers to be largely respectful of my personal faith, if somewhat baffled on occasion. Many would also describe themselves as spiritual in some form, and mutual respect and understanding goes a long way. Despite this, I find myself “caveating” my faith when meeting new people. “I’m a Christian but…”. As I’ve started expressing myself using queer fashion and rethinking the binary concepts of gendered clothing, it’s becoming less and less necessary – yet at the same time, the Church of England is in the news for still not having approved same-sex marriage. I pray for a world where I don’t have to consider “how queer” I look to my peer group before deciding if I need to justify and explain that my faith is not one of exclusion and hatred. Maybe it’s partly egotistical. I don’t want people to think, even for a moment, that I’m exclusionary. Maybe my sense of self-worth is too much based in how people may judge me. I feel the need to caveat my faith, even as I am aware of how God knows me. A more charitable view of this need to caveat would be that I do it to protect others. Whenever I try online dating, I state my religion on my profile. Whilst it’s true that this is partly for simple reasons of compatibility, there’s more to it than that. Being non-binary, if the apps do their job, my dating pool is entirely made up of LGBTQ+ young people. I haven’t met a single person of faith in the LGBTQ+ community who does not also hold religious trauma. Many more have left the church and their faith due to spiritual abuse and hostile churches. Still others have never held deep convictions, but associate church schools with a place they were never safe to be themselves. For the sake of both parties, I choose for the cross around my neck to not come as a surprise on the first date.

    Speaking of surprises, my first experience of an exclusionary church when I moved to university came as a complete shock. My experience of the Church of England up until then consisted of occasional services at the parish church in my small hometown. It was a fairly standard semi-rural set up, family-friendly, with a primary school attached, and also happened to be a part of the Inclusive Church network. With a family tradition of non-conformist churches, I naively assumed that all Church of England churches were much of a muchness when it came to societal viewpoints, if I considered it at all. I wasn’t even out to myself at that point. I was mostly just desperate for somewhere to belong. I started attending a popular church in my university city without even thinking to google it or find out it was a conservative evangelical branch of the CofE. I knew that the “party line” at the CofE didn’t include same-sex marriage, but I had no idea of the strength of anti-gay and anti-woman sentiment that could be found in some churches; something which SCM’s Honest Church campaign is trying to make visible. The wake-up moment was an anti-abortion rant from the pulpit. I kept going until the end of term though, because I didn’t know how to leave. Eventually, in the holidays, a family friend from the parish church explained the wide spectrum of belief in the Church of England, and how I needed to use critical thinking to find a church which aligned with my values of how to treat others.

    What confused me at the time, and frankly still baffles me today, was the popularity amongst students of a church which doesn’t accept female ministry and whose rector has openly written that same-sex relationships are sinful. All the students I met outside the church seemed to be in favour of the rights of women and LGBTQ+ people, and yet, this narrow-minded preaching attracted enough devotees for an entire separate student congregation. My theory is that is that it’s a question of resources and priorities, and a question of connections, of insidious roots throughout the university structure. Right from freshers’ week, the church works with a large Christian Union to attract new students through the tried and tested formula of free food. The promotional materials promise that everyone’s welcome, no strings attached. The leadership structure is carefully designed to disguise their views on women preachers at first glance. Once in, the usual mechanisms of organised religion slide greasily into action to keep you there. Guilt, shame, fear. A cult of personality around the rector. Upbeat music and a free student lunch. If you leave now, you’re going to Hell. By the time you discover the anti-gay rhetoric, you’re supposed to have bought in to believing everything the rector says as gospel truth. This dangerous machine is funded and legitimised by the powerful institution that is the Church of England.

    And yet, there is hope. The following term, just down the road, I found a wonderfully inclusive URC church. We’re smaller, less well funded, and much less powerful than those that can afford an entirely separate service for the student congregation. But by working with the other local non-conformist churches, we’re making changes in the city. I believe ecumenism is key in youth Christianity. I don’t understand the strict divides between denominations, the ‘us’ versus ‘them’. At the Student Christian Movement National Gathering this year, there were Quakers, Catholics, Anglicans, Methodists, Lutherans and more, all coming together to share ideas and theology and inclusive Christian love. Of course, there were differences in theology. But not rigid divisions. No one young person seemed convinced that they were more in the right than anyone else. That’s the spirit we need to take forward into the future.

     

  • Marriage Law in England and Wales – Some Reflections

    by Revd Dr Helen Hall, Nottingham Trent University and Professor Javier Garcia Oliva, Head of Law, University of Manchester

    (the third in a series of four: based on a presentation to the June 26th Symposium on Same-Sex Marriage in the Church of England organised by Sir Ben Bradshaw and Jayne Ozanne)

     

    Marriage Law in England and Wales-Current Framework and Proposed Reform

    Jurisdiction

    • Marriage law (and family law more generally) in England and Wales is distinct from that in Scotland.
    • This is not a recent development arising from devolution, but due to the agreement prior to the Act of Union, according to which Scotland would be permitted to keep its own legal system.
    • The analysis below relates exclusively to England and Wales, except where otherwise indicated.
    • Although Anglicanism was formally disestablished by the Welsh Church Act 1914, for the purposes of marriage law, the Church in Wales largely continues to operate as an established Church.
    • However, it should be noted that disestablishment means that the Church in Wales has no power to amend the civil law framework. It is completely dependent on Parliament in this regard.

    Current Framework

    • For historical reasons, there are four distinct routes to a legally binding marriage:  Anglican Marriage; Quaker and Jewish Marriages; Civil Marriage; and Other Forms of Religious Marriage where a faith group has opted-in (hereafter referred to as “Opt-In Marriages” in this paper).
    • Marriages outside of these four categories are not illegal in the sense of being prohibited, but they will NOT create a legally binding marriage in English/Welsh law.
    • Marriages which take place in other jurisdictions are ordinarily treated as creating a legally binding marriage in England/Welsh law, provided that they were legally valid according to the rules of the State in which they were celebrated.
    • Opt-In Marriages are performed by an authorised person, but must take place in a building registered for religious worship.
    • This means that there is no provision for Humanist marriages, nor any scope for faith groups which do not meet in a registered building, either because they lack sufficient members and money, or because their practices involve worshipping at home or in outdoor settings.

    Problems with the Current Framework

    • As a headline, it is unduly complex and bureaucratic.
    • Some parties to non-binding religious marriages are unaware that they have no legal protection until their relationship breaks down. It is only at that point that they learn that they were simply cohabiting, and are, therefore, entitled to no financial relief.
    • Individuals for whom English/Welsh is a second language are at increased risk of confusion.
    • Local decision making on opting-in may add to the confusion; it is not always enough to ask what faith community performed the ceremony, e.g. a Muslim marriage or a Sikh marriage might or might not be legally binding, depending on whether the community in question had opted-in.
    • A significant number of non-legally binding religious marriages are taking place. This leads to unequal outcomes should the relationship break down, or one of the parties die without leaving a will. It can also trap vulnerable people in abusive relationships, especially women. The lack of access to financial relief may make it very difficult for a person to leave their partner, if they have no housing and are economically dependent. The situation is exacerbated still further if they are from a cultural background which stigmatises separation, and their families and friends are unable/unwilling to offer support.

    Proposals for Reform

    • The Law Commission has proposed significant reforms:

    1)         Regulation of the Officiant instead of the venue (i.e. an end to the need to celebrate Opt-In marriages in a registered building).

    2)         Universal rules for ALL weddings

    • Couples would be able to give notice of their intended wedding online, and to choose the registration district where they would then be interviewed by a registration officer.
    • Notice of upcoming weddings would be published online so that the information was accessible to the wider community.
    • There would be great accommodation of the diversity of beliefs e.g. It would be possible to have a religious ceremony in a venue other than a place of worship and without having to incorporate prescribed words into the ceremony. It is suggested that there should also be an option for couples of different faiths to have a religious ceremony led by an interfaith minister that contains aspects of each of the couple’s beliefs. Finally, the rigid division between civil and religious marriages would be axed, allowing couples to have some religious elements, such as hymns and prayers, incorporated into their civil ceremony (as long as the ceremony remained “identifiably civil”.)

    Implications for Same Sex Marriage and the Church of England

    • This does not directly impact on same sex marriage and the Church of England, but there are a number of indirect implications.

    1)         This supports McLean’s thesis of “marriage” being a legal institution offered and regulated by the State, even though it may choose to delegate the ceremonial and administrative elements to third parties, including faith groups.

    2)         Respecting the diversity of beliefs present in contemporary society is a key element of the proposals, and no denomination would be forced to offer marriage ceremonies to all comers on an equal basis. It would clearly violate Article 9 of the ECHR and the rules of statutory interpretation, if any legislation enacted on the basis of the Law Commission proposals were interpreted as requiring all Anglican clergy to offer same sex marriages, or demanding that Roman Catholic priests and Orthodox Rabbis perform wedding ceremonies for non-Catholic/Jewish atheists or members of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti monster.

    3)         The Church of England (and indeed all faith groups) would have to decide how to respond to the possibility of its clergy being involved in interfaith ceremonies, or providing “religious elements” of a civil ceremony, where the parties to the marriage were of the same sex. Given the scope for considerably increased flexibility in respect of wording and ceremonies, it is easy to see how Anglican clergy could be effectively “performing” same sex marriages hosted by a friendly neighbouring denomination, or conceivably even in the context of a civil ceremony, depending on how the “identifiably civil” part was interpreted. The church would have to decide how it wanted to respond to this.

    4)         With a much freer wedding economy, couples would have far greater scope to have a religious/Christian backdrop to their ceremony without going to the local parish church.  Consequently, if the Church of England wanted to continue to encourage weddings as potential opportunities for evangelism/outreach, and source of income, then it would do well to ponder how excluding same sex couples would affect perceptions of Anglicanism and Anglican marriage.

    • It must be stressed that not all proposals of the Law Commission become law, and even those that do often undergo substantial transformation before being enacted.
    • There is a considerable pressure for reform of wedding law, particularly in light of some recent high-profile litigation in relation to a woman seeking some mechanism to obtain financial relief when leaving a non-legally binding religious marriage. The conclusion of the appellate court was that neither divorce nor nullity could help. For the reasons outlined above, the vulnerability of people in this situation means that there is now an urgent reason to overhaul an idiosyncratic and piecemeal system which has been evolving in a haphazard fashion since the eighteenth century.
    • The collateral implications of all of this for same sex marriages in an Anglican setting are indirect, but very significant.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Can Parliament Permit Church of England Clergy to Marry Same-Sex Couples? Should it?

    by Professor Iain McLean, FBA FRSE, Professor Emeritus of Politics, Oxford University and a fellow of Nuffield College. As a Quaker, he was a consultant to Britain Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) for their lobbying on the ‘Alli amendment’ (to the Equality Act 2010, permitting faith communities to conduct civil partnerships) and on the Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act 2013

    (the second in a series of four. based on a presentation to the June 26th Symposium on Same-Sex Marriage in the Church of England organised by Sir Ben Bradshaw and Jayne Ozanne)

    On 21 March 2023, Ben Bradshaw MP (Lab., Exeter) introduced a Ten-Minute Rule Bill ‘to enable clergy of the Church of England to conduct same sex marriages on Church of England premises in certain circumstances’. It was co-sponsored by parliamentarians from the Conservative, Labour, Liberal Democrat, and Green parties (no nationalists; the bill would apply in England only). Introducing it, Mr (now Sir) Ben Bradshaw stated that it had the support of Sir Tony Baldry (former MP (Cons, Banbury) and Second Church Estates Commissioner). He also stated that

    My preference—and, I imagine, that of most colleagues—would be for the Church to do this itself….The main motivation in introducing it is to encourage the bishops to stick to the commitments and timetable agreed by February’s Synod and resist any delay or backsliding at the next Synod in July.

    The current Second Church Estates Commissioner, Andrew Selous, responded

    [I]t is necessary to respond to the Bill in my capacity as Second Church Estates Commissioner because it seeks to usurp the role of the democratically elected General Synod of the Church of England, as well as to remove the freedom of the Church of England to decide its own doctrine, a freedom that members from all parts of this House champion for religions and beliefs all over the world and one that we should therefore apply equally to the Church of England (Hansard, Commons, 21 March 2023).

    Earlier, in response to an Urgent Question, he had said:

    In order to change canon law on the doctrine of holy matrimony, there has to be a two-thirds majority in the House of Bishops, the House of Clergy and the House of Laity of the General Synod, which is itself a devolved body of this Parliament, and the vast majority of whose members are elected. There is not currently a two-thirds majority in the General Synod to change canon law on the doctrine of holy matrimony (Hansard, Commons, 24 January 2023).

    … although he modified this answer two days later to say

    the advice I was given then was by the Church legal office, and I was yesterday asked to make a small clarification. A simple majority in each of the three Houses of the General Synod could suffice to pass a measure and amending canon to change the definition of marriage in ecclesiastical law, but circumstances could also arise in which two-thirds majorities in the House of Bishops and the House of Clergy would be needed, and, as with all authorised forms of service, a two-thirds majority in each House would be required for the approval of the Synod as a form of service for the marriage of a same-sex couple (Hansard, Commons, 26 January 2023).

    A Ten-Minute Bill is purely expressive speech. Mr Bradshaw’s bill received a first reading without a division, but is tabled for its second reading on a day when Parliament will not be sitting. Nevertheless, the matter remains of current interest. The General Synod of the Church of England meets in July and November 2023. The agenda for July contains no such proposed Measure. If the Synod declines to introduce a Measure to permit those clergy who so wish to conduct same-sex weddings in their churches, can Parliament intervene with a Private Member’s Bill, which unlike a Ten-Minute Bill receives substantive debate? And should it?

    Can Parliament intervene?

    It certainly can. The orthodox doctrine of Parliamentary sovereignty maintains that Parliament remains supreme, even when it has delegated authority to bodies such as the Scottish and Welsh Parliaments, and the General Synod of the Church of England. Since delegating authority to what is now the General Synod in 1919, Parliament has intervened in the doctrine of the Church of England, most notoriously in the ‘Prayer Book controversy’ of 1927-8. Twice, the House of Commons turned down the Church of England prayer book, on the grounds that it was too close to Roman Catholicism. The decisive majority included Calvinist MPs from Scotland and Ulster. They could vote, because of parliamentary sovereignty, even though it was an England-only matter.

    The doctrines of the Church of England have less protection from Parliamentary interference than do those of the Church of Scotland. Both Parliament and the courts interfered with the doctrines of the Kirk, the former by the Patronage Act 1711 and the latter in various court judgements culminating in the Free Church case (Bannatyne v. Overtoun [1904] AC 515). In 1711 Parliament enacted a right for lay patrons to nominate ministers. In 1904 the judicial House of Lords awarded all those assets of the large United Free (UF) Church of Scotland that had come from the former Free Church to the tiny continuing Free Church, on the grounds that

    the Establishment principle and the Westminster Confession were distinctive tenets of the Free Church; that the Free Church had no power, where property was concerned, to alter or vary the doctrine of the Church; that there was no true union …; and that the appellants were entitled to hold for behoof of the Free Church the property held by the Free Church before the union in 1900.

    To forestall any repetition, the Church of Scotland and the UF Church, who were merging, obtained a remarkable abnegation of Parliamentary sovereignty in the Church of Scotland Act 1921 c.29 (‘An Act to declare the lawfulness of certain Articles declaratory of the Constitution of the Church of Scotland in matters spiritual prepared with the authority of the General Assembly of the Church.’). These Articles Declaratory, drafted by the General Assembly, trump any statutes that might conflict with them.

    This ancient history illustrates two bad ways of interfering with religious freedom. Both 1711 and 1927-8 were instances of what is now called the ‘West Lothian Question’, in which a measure affecting only one part of the UK is enacted against the majority vote of members from that part. The majority of Scots MPs voted against the 1711 Act. The majority of English MPs voted in favour of the Prayer Book. And the courts would not now presume to wade in to identify the fundamental tenets of a religion and use that as a basis for assigning property. Are there, though, any good grounds for parliamentary involvement in religion?

    Should it?

    There are two main arguments against introducing a bill to permit C of E clergy to solemnise same-sex marriage, and two main arguments in favour.

    The first argument against is that what is delegated should stay delegated. By delegating authority to the Church of England, Parliament extricated itself from what had been very time-consuming and messy arguments about, for instance, divorce, the Roman Catholic presence in England, and marriage to a deceased wife’s sister. The second argument against is that espoused by Andrew Selous above: that intervention would ‘remove the freedom of the Church of England to decide its own doctrine’.

    The first argument in favour of intervention is that a purely permissive measure cannot be detrimental to religious freedom. On this argument, individuals have freedom; organisations, not so much. In its zeal to protect the religious freedom of clergy opposed to same-sex marriage, the Marriage (Same-Sex Couples) Act 2013, it is argued, tramples on the religious freedom of clergy supportive of same-sex marriage. As noted in the Ten Minute debate, various denominations have opted in under the 2013 Act or its Scottish equivalent, in all cases permissively. Both Acts protect the conscience of those unwilling to conduct same-sex marriages when their faith group has decided to be open to them.

    The second argument is that the Church of England is for some purposes an agent of the state. Ever since 1753, when it was granted a monopoly of marriage in England & Wales (except for Quakers and Jews, who are still treated differently), it has regulated property and succession rights on behalf of the state. All parish clergy act as registrars – a civil function – when they officiate at a wedding. In addition, they have a common-law duty to marry parishioners, and couples have a common-law right to ask to be married in the parish church of either of them. However, as the Explanatory Notes to the 2013 Act make clear:

    Subsections (4) and (5) provide that any duty of a member of the clergy of the Church of England or the Church in Wales to solemnize a marriage does not extend to same sex couples. In addition, any corresponding right of parishioners to be married by such clergy does not extend to same sex couples. The effect of this is that the common law duty on the clergy of the Church of England and the Church in Wales to marry parishioners is not extended to same sex couples.

    Examples…

    A man lives next door to a Church of England parish church and wishes to get married there. He is getting married to a woman. Neither of them has ever attended services at the church or professes to be Christian. He speaks to the vicar who agrees to marry the couple, given his legal duty to marry parishioners.

    A man who lives next door to a Church of England parish church wishes to get married there. He is getting married to a man. Both of them regularly attend services at the church and are committed Christians. He speaks to the vicar who has to refuse to marry the couple, since it would not be lawful for him to do so and the legal duty to marry parishioners does not extend to same sex couples.

    For a text presumably drafted by civil servants and/or parliamentary drafters, this seems unusually forthright.

    The ‘quadruple lock’ inserted in the 2013 Act at the request of conservative denominations contains a couple of tumblers that are unique to the Church of England. They are section 1 subsections 3-5:

    (3) No Canon of the Church of England is contrary to section 3 of the Submission of the Clergy Act 1533 (which provides that no Canons shall be contrary to the Royal Prerogative or the customs, laws or statutes of this realm) by virtue of its making provision about marriage being the union of one man with one woman.

    (4) Any duty of a member of the clergy to solemnize marriages (and any corresponding right of persons to have their marriages solemnized by members of the clergy) is not extended by this Act to marriages of same sex couples.

    (5) A “member of the clergy” is—

    (a) a clerk in Holy Orders of the Church of England, or

    (b) a clerk in Holy Orders of the Church in Wales.

    Subsection (3) is declaratory, and nobody’s religious freedom would be impaired by its repeal. The effect of repealing subsections (4) and (5) would be to remove the anomaly highlighted in the Explanatory Notes.

    I conclude that a Private Member’s Bill to repeal these subsections would be a simple way of granting parliamentary approval of the consciences of clergy who wish to conduct same-sex marriage, while preserving all the protections already in the 2013 Act for clergy who do not. If such a bill won parliamentary time (which requires at least the tacit consent of the government of the day), the votes on it would be classically ‘conscience’ matters and no party would be expected to whip its members. Unlike in 1927, however, Scottish and Northern Irish members should not vote.

  • Conscientious Objection

    Questions of Conscience (5)

    by Rachel Muers, Professor of Divinity at the University of Edinburgh and a member of the Society of Friends (Quakers)

    The annual International Conscientious Objectors’ Day commemorates and supports those who refuse compulsory military service. Objection to military service is the modern paradigm for ‘conscientious objection’. Indeed, conscientious objection may be equated with pacifism, so that the argument about whether conscientious objection is justified shades into the debate about whether war can be justified.

    Historically, however, the question of conscientious objection is not about a specific ethical issue, but rather about the deeper question of the relationship between an individual’s convictions and the state’s requirements. The starting point for conscientious objection is saying no to a specific demand, but it points to a wider conviction – that a person cannot hand over her responsibility for moral or religious judgement to an external authority. Objection to military service is a paradigm for conscientious objection, not just because pacifism is a well-established ‘minority report’ in Christian ethics – but also because military service requires one to place oneself fully at the disposal of the state. It is not a coincidence that objection to swearing oaths, particularly oaths of allegiance, is another major context in which conscientious objection arises. An oath of allegiance, after all, is also a ‘giving over’ of oneself to authority – and though the main objection to it from the earliest conscientious objectors mainly arose from Christ’s command not to swear, there was also a deep and frequently-expressed concern that oaths of allegiance were linked to political and religious violence.

    In English law, conscientious objection arises initially in the confrontation between nonconformists – including, but not only, members of what became the ‘historic peace churches’, such as Quakers – and a state anxious to secure the loyalty of its subjects. From the seventeenth century onwards, we see a long and often tortuous process of negotiation around the provisions the state was able or willing to make to legalise conscientious objection. This was a negotiation not just about what constitutes an acceptable range of opinions, but more fundamentally about what it takes to be recognised as a full member of the national community.

    For example, the specific words ‘conscientious objection’ first appear in English law in the title of an 1838 Act, designed to allow Quakers and Moravians to take up elected local offices without swearing the prescribed oaths. The preamble to the Act refers to the ‘conscientious scruples’ of members of these groups – a puzzling eccentricity, obstinately maintained by minority communities. The problem is that these scruples, when they come up against the law, have effects ‘to the manifest detriment of themselves and their fellow subjects’ – and the Quakers and Moravians will accept that detriment rather than swear an oath. Fortunately, in this case to accommodate them will cause ‘no mischief or inconvenience’, so an alternative process is found, and the wheels of local government continue to turn.

    Notice here that from both sides, the nonconformists and the state, conscientious objection was framed in terms of community membership and religious identity. It was Quakers and Moravians, and elsewhere Separatists and other named groups, who, collectively, maintained and were identified with the conscientious objection. What looked like eccentric ‘scruples’ when they cropped up in isolation – refusing to swear an oath in order to take up the post you were elected to – were recognised as belonging to part of a coherent religious framework and a way of life.

    This points to a wider meaning of conscientious objection, at least as it was framed by early objecting communities. Conscientious objection was not just about refusing a constraint or being in charge of one’s own destiny; it was about being free for and in the service of Christ. The objector’s refusal – I will not obey the state – was grounded in an affirmation – I will follow the call of Christ.

    Does this make the conscientious objector more or less difficult to deal with than the common-or-garden objector, the person who simply finds the provisions of the law inconvenient? On the one hand, we might think that it makes the conscientious objector impervious to reason. If she thinks she is obeying a higher law, a calling from God that is at odds with what most other people (including most other Christians) perceive, she will never be persuaded that she is wrong. Our only options will be either to accommodate her scruples, if accommodation doesn’t cause too much ‘mischief or inconvenience’, or to exclude her, if it does.

    The Quaker social scientist Constance Braithwaite, however, offers another perspective on the religious conscientious objector and her faith. For Braithwaite, conscientious objection is both ‘a reminder to all governments and parliaments that they are not infallible’ and an affirmation that a person ‘must act according to [their] own conscience, even though it is fallible [my emphasis]’. Put in a religious context, conscientious objection is thus a way of saying that both the state authorities and the individual objector are open to divine judgement. The objector claims freedom to seek and follow the leadings of God – which might require her to change, or admit that she was wrong – and in doing so, she reminds the powers that be that they might have to change, or admit that they were wrong. Another way to read conscientious objection, then, is that it holds open a space for future change beyond what we can currently imagine as part of the conversation – just as those engaged in the tortuous negotiations of earlier centuries could not imagine a future in which nobody was forced to swear an oath.

     

     

  • In Conscience?

    Questions of Conscience (4)

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

    Acting according to theological conscience is the calling of all Christians and must be respected. But I can’t help suspecting that the phrase ‘in conscience’ (just like its cousin ‘for the sake of unity’) is being used more and more in Church of England circles to legitimise bigotry. And, when we hear it, alarm bells should ring.

    As Chair of WATCH (Women and the Church), a national campaign group for equality for women in the Church of England, I want to speak out against discrimination of all kinds. But in particular against women who, comprising two thirds of churchgoers, are in the unique position of being a ‘minoritised majority.’

    The truth is that about half of all human beings are born with XX chromosomes and about half are born with XY chromosomes. Another truth is that some human beings are born with a particular sexuality, just like some human beings have a particular skin colour. We must stop discriminating against women and LGBTQ+ people. It is not only unjust to discriminate, it is also what I would call unGospel. If Jesus teaches us anything, it is that there are no human beings who are lesser or greater than any other human beings. In the Kingdom of God, the first is last and the last is first. Equality is at the very heart of the gospel.

    One of the things that annoys me most in this whole debate is that people like myself, who stand against discrimination, are often decried as ‘liberals’ who are happy to go along with anything and just suck up the whole of modern culture. This is not true. There are plenty of things in modern culture that I’m firmly against. They are things like pride, abuses of power, arrogance and manipulation. They are things like promiscuity, debauchery, exploitation and unfaithfulness. And we see these things in men and women, and in people of all types of sexuality. And these are the things where the Church has something important to speak into modern culture, because these are the things that are causing huge damage to people and our relationships. On the other hand, we need to be speaking up for humility, collaboration, and honesty; and for relationships that are committed, healthy, respectful and faithful.

    In Jesus’s times, the Pharisees could not ‘in conscience’ allow healing on the Sabbath, because scripture said this was not permitted. They could not allow an adulterous woman to be shown mercy, because the scriptures said she must be stoned. They could not eat or associate with the Gentiles, because scripture clearly told them to keep themselves separate and holy. But Jesus healed on the Sabbath, seeing that loving and healing people overrode the need to keep to the letter of the Law; he rescued and redeemed the adulterous woman, despite recognising that she had sinned. And the Holy Spirit blew apart the long-held scriptural understanding that Jewish people could not be brothers and sisters with Gentiles.

    When I was appointed last October as Chair of WATCH I thought that I only had the bandwidth to speak up about discrimination and sexism against women in the Church and I would focus my energies solely on this. But I have found that I cannot challenge discrimination against women without, at the same time, challenging discrimination against other human beings.

    In February this year, I went to a meeting at St Martin in the Fields on the night of the first day of General Synod. In this church, a large number of LGBTQ+ people and allies had gathered to eat together, to encourage each other and to pray for each other – in the light of the LLF conversations and votes that were to take place that week and that affected them so greatly. As I sat there, surrounded by these people, I found myself moved by the depth of brokenness and pain that washed around me. It was like these people had somehow been made to feel that, within the Church, they were the lowest of the low, some kind of detritus, a sort of lower order that was having to fight even for the right to exist in the Church, let alone to be recognised as equal to others, to the entitled. As I silently took all this in, I felt a sense that this was where Jesus was – that Jesus was in that place with those people who saw themselves at the bottom of the pile, despised by many and, at best, tolerated by others.

    Once again, I knew that the very heart of the gospel is equality. That Jesus came to raise up the lowly and to bring down the proud. We are all human beings. It doesn’t matter whether we are men or women or what sexuality we have. The important thing is how we treat one another and discrimination, whether in so-called conscience or not, is not what Jesus wants.

    It is time to repent and to lament how we have treated women, LGBTQ+ people, people of colour, those who are disabled and others, and now to embrace a new culture in our Church where we truly see every human being as no lesser and no greater than any other. Jesus came to break down barriers between us and to bring unity. But he also called for tough choices to be made, and this is why he was so critical of the Pharisees. He wanted people to follow him and to help him bring in the Kingdom of God by following him. But those who, as he saw it, were blind and hard of heart could not help in that ministry.

    Jesus says to his followers, ‘I am the vine and you are the branches.’ He wants us all to be part of the vine, but he also recognises the need for pruning some branches. We want to be a healthy Church rooted in Jesus – so let’s say a clear no to the Pharisees, no to things like pride and promiscuity. And yes to all people being free to live their God-given lives to the full and to use their God-given gifts to the full, respecting how God has made us, male and female and of varying sexuality. And rejoicing in our wonderfully diverse humanity.

     

     

     

  • On Conscience

    Questions of Conscience (3)

    By the Rt Revd Philip North, who will be installed as Bishop of Blackburn on 24 June

    Philip

    In the heart-stoppingly beautiful 21st Chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus asks Peter three times, ‘Do you love me?’

    As the Lord speaks, Peter is simultaneously rebuked, forgiven and restored. The night before Jesus’ death, Peter had acted out of fear and prioritised personal safety, conformity and transient popularity over faithfulness to Jesus. Three times he denied Jesus and then wept over his own sin. That sin is now erased as he declares, ‘Yes Lord, you know I love you,’ and so places Jesus back at the centre of his life.

    Amongst so much else, this is a story that can help us to understand the power of theological conscience. Political dialogue revolves around opinions, views and policies; transient things that can be adapted according to changing cultural trends and perspectives. Conscience is much deeper than that. It is about placing obedience to revelation ahead of personal popularity, political expedience or cultural conformity.

    That means it is in the very nature of conscience to be misunderstood and even mocked and derided, as Peter learned. By definition it makes no sense to those who have not placed their faith in that revelation. It is foolish, even offensive.

    And that is why conscience is the lifeblood of the Christian tradition. It is why the apostles and early martyrs preferred grotesque and agonising deaths to apostasy. It is why Athanasius and the opponents of Arius spurned career and popularity and lived with exile and oppression in order to stand by the truth of the Incarnation. It is why Margaret Clitherow, Hugh Latimer and the other martyrs of the Reformation were stoned, burnt, hanged, drawn and quartered. It is why Martin Luther could do no other. All placed their obedience to revealed truth ahead of the easy path of conformity and popularity.

    Nor is theological conscience the unique preserve of the conservative. In the tortured debates around sexuality that every single denomination within Christendom is now enduring, there is informed theological conscience on both sides. That is precisely why it is so painfully difficult.

    Because conscience is, by its nature, non-negotiable. Yes of course we must explore and probe conscience to ensure that its theological basis is secure and in line with scripture and tradition. Yes of course, we must be ready to probe the boundaries of conscience and push it as far as it will go for the sake of good relationships and the unity of the church. But to force a fellow Christian to break theological conscience is to imperil their soul.

    That is the depth and profundity of theological conscience. And the debate around the Living in Love and Faith proposals cannot end well unless we understand that. We may not agree with each other’s convictions. We may indeed find them offensive, threatening or reprehensible. But surely it is the duty of every Christian to protect the consciences of their brothers and sisters in Christ.

    Of course this does not resolve the LLF conversation. In fact it makes it rather harder. But it does set some ground rules for the debate.

    First, we need to appreciate that those with whom we disagree are not just expressing personal views but are speaking from faith-informed conscience. Allowing for the integrity of a fellow Christian’s conscience is not the same as agreeing with them. But in an increasingly secular world, Christians need to stand as one in defending each other’s rights to hold theological convictions that may be unpopular or misunderstood in the wider sphere. If we cannot do that, then religious freedom itself will be increasingly under threat.

    Second, we must at all costs avoid weaponizing a culture that does not understand faith in order to advance a theological cause. For example, the sloppy labelling of those who have conscience objections to doctrinal change as ‘homophobic’ or ‘bigoted’ in order to shame them publicly or frighten them into silence breeds resentment rather than reconciliation.

    And third, we need to resolve this within our own structures. For example, for Christians to campaign for the state to use its power to overrule the consciences of fellow Christians by forcing doctrinal change upon the Church would be to set a profoundly dangerous precedent. It would signal to the world that conviction rooted in faith no longer matters. It would be akin to Peter denying the Lord.

    Peter broke conscience, but saw his error and was restored in love to the Lord’s company. Perhaps for us also, a proper appreciation of the nature of conscience will help us to find a deeper restoration in the Lord Jesus and a richer assurance of his love for his wounded church.

  • Set Apart for the Good of Us All?

    by Revd Neil Patterson, Chair of the Gender & Sexuality Group on General Synod

    Like a small number of (male) ordinands in the Church of England, I had the privilege during my training of spending a semester at the Venerable English College in Rome in 2003-4, where among other things I attended the lectures of Fr. Robert Christian OP on the sacraments at the Angelicum University. To the delight of the British members of his international class, one week he took a swing away from the canonical seven sacraments to speak about ‘the one that got away,’ coronation, illustrated by showing the film of 1953 (the edited ‘A Queen is Crowned,’ for those who care about such details). And as he explained the extensive parallels with ordination and other Christian rites, he opined wistfully, ‘they’ll never do it again.’

    For most of my adult life, that has been what I too rather expected, feeling that, glorious as the history is, Britain today is a very different place, and that it would prove impossible to summon up the will to perform such an extraordinary rite. Indeed it felt that it might be better to have no crowning at all than something completely reformed into a semi-secular form. And in that spirit I prayed quite sincerely, ‘may the Queen live for ever!’ and looked out at the beacons across Herefordshire last summer wondering if it might be the last time the fires burned on the hills for an anointed monarch.

    But it is not so. I write this shortly after the liturgy has been published, and to my astonishment and delight, all the substance of the ancient service, carried out for a thousand years, will come to pass once more in our time. Details almost beyond interpretation, like the King donning a ‘supertunica of cloth of gold’ that marks continuity with Byzantium and beyond, or the redemption of the sword that speaks of the ambiguity of worldly power in the sight of God, will be enacted again. And most importantly for a priest of the Church of England, the King will be anointed for Christian service and crowned within a celebration of the Eucharist, and receive communion with his Queen as fellow-worshippers with us all.

    And there on camera with their Majesties will be people I know, playing their parts in history. Dean David Hoyle, a source of great wisdom to me and many others, will be ferrying the regalia to and fro throughout the service as required. I suspect his part in making all this happen is great beyond such public credit as he will receive for it. And yesterday it was finally made public that the Bishop of Hereford is to be a Bishop Assistant to the Queen – the rehearsals have been taking over his diary for some time, and he is justifiably delighted. I know this may not be true for everyone – but for me that personal connection is part of what makes it human, and real, and loveable.

    Many words have been and will be written on the meaning of the service, whether theological treatises on Christian kingship, or bland expansions of the official themes of ‘community, faith and service’ or indeed critiques of varying severity of the whole business. But in the end the value of the Coronation is only a subset of the value of monarchy itself, and on that one thought has been upmost in my mind as I reflect on it. Apart from a few, probably only two, members of the King’s family in the Abbey on Saturday, no-one else, not even those there I know, will ever sit in that seat or wear the Crown. And none of the rest of us ever will either. And that is just as well.

    Perhaps because I am naturally rather competitive myself, I have always tended to see ambition as a besetting sin in so many contexts – the desire to have or do more than others. More money, more books published, more followers on social media, more ‘great experiences’ in life or most troubling of all, more power. The truth is, in every context, there will almost always be someone with more, and so that is not the path of true joy. But under a monarch, we have ordered our land and society so that this truth is made manifest to all. Even the determined politician who has made it to 10 Downing Street for a few years (or months, lately) receives office – from the Crown. The foremost of the great and the good, in the arts and business and academia, may hope to gain honour – from the Crown. Even the highest of high achievers must look up, as we pray they will look up to God too, the giver of all good gifts.

    By contrast, whatever you may think of him as a person or a contributor on many issues of our time, especially the environment, the King is there wholly without merit, by a chance of birth, destined for his throne from birth, as are the Prince of Wales and Prince George. He could not choose it, or win it, or deserve it and, if he had, the office would be the less. Though I hope future generations will be charitable to any heirs who do not feel able to succeed. So as he comes, eight months into his reign, to this formal enactment of his kingship, we pray for Charles Philip Arthur George, child of God and servant of the King of Kings, that he may fulfil this strangest of all callings. God Save the King!

  • Hot Cross Bunnies & Religious Freedom

    by Jayne Ozanne, Director of the Ozanne Foundation, Member of General Synod and Founder of ViaMedia

    Hot Cross Bunnies & Religious Freedom

    Salted caramel and chocolate hot-cross buns – have you tried them yet?  I think they’re divine!

    As I indulged in my first one earlier this week, I caught myself thinking “Why hasn’t anyone ever thought of making these before?” A couple of days later, on listening to a heated debate on Radio 4’s Today programme, I realised why. Evidently, this culinary delight is a complete sacrilege to many as they believe we are tampering with some of the crown jewels of baking! How dare someone change the traditional recipe, which has been around since the 14th century! I restrained myself from making the “hot cross bunny” joke, and chose instead to shout at the radio “Oh come on – why can’t you just have both?  For goodness’ sake, let us decide – we’re the ones who are paying!”

    Because, of course, this should be a ‘matter of choice’ – which, if there is an added ethical or spiritual dimension to that choice, becomes a ‘matter of conscience’. I would suggest that every decision we make that has a values dimension to it is a matter of conscience. Do we act in a proper and legal way? Do we respond in a kind and loving manner? Do we choose the godly or ungodly path? That is, unless the choice is taken away from us by those in power who believe they know best, as they see themselves as custodians of truth, and so make the choice for us.

    You will by now no doubt have guessed where I am going with all of this – although I don’t for one moment want to equate the dilemma of choosing hot-cross buns with matters that are causing those of us in the LGBT+ community, as well as those beyond, such deep pain and upset, especially in the Church. However, my overall point stands – the role of conscience in our lives is critical to all values-based decisions we make. By definition, it plays a significant role in our spiritual lives too. That is why it has been the central tenet of our Anglican ecclesiology since we were formed in 1534 over a matter where conscience could not play a role. However, by and large we have found a way of accommodating virtually all views since then – as long as we adhere to the historic Creeds and the 39 Articles. Hats, beards, contraception, marriage after divorce, the role of women, whether clergy wear robes, whether we confirm children, whether we refuse people communion, whether we rebaptise adults (some of which aren’t meant to happen, but we turn a blind eye to them anyway!). It is the Church of England’s hallmark for which we have been known throughout the ages.

    That is, until recently.

    For some reason – neither articulated nor openly debated – the powers that be have not seen fit to allow us to adopt the glaringly obvious solution around the debate on same-sex marriage by making it a matter of conscience. I’m constantly told that ‘there aren’t the numbers in the House of Bishops’ to allow same-sex marriage – but we’re not asking for numbers as we are not asking people to change their view. Rather, we are asking them to respect the role of conscience in this matter and so allow those of us who hold a different view to them (which, notably, is a sizeable majority of Anglicans according the The Times’ You Gov poll), to be able to proceed with it.

    Instead, we are being forced to accept something that many of us believe is biblically and morally wrong. None of us who hold that God wants to bless same-sex relationships will ever “believe” they are right – so instead we are being made to “put up” with their intransigence. They continue to hold us all to ransom, becoming increasingly brazen in their actions – such as withholding parish share and setting up separate ‘deanery chapters’. One just has to listen to the tone of their rhetoric to hear how cold and self-righteous they have become. It does really rather feel like the bullies have taken over the playground, and we’re all meant to just sit back and watch. I’m not sure what they think they are achieving – for they must know by now that they aren’t going to change our minds?

    The greatest irony is that some of them are now trying to employ a “freedom of religion” argument, citing Articles 9 and 10 of the 1998 Human Rights Act, without recognising the sheer hypocrisy of what they are doing or saying. For it is our “freedom of religion” that they are trampling all over, it is our right to worship and practice our faith in accordance with our conscience within our parish churches that they are restricting. I’ve made this point several times, including at the government’s International Freedom of Religion or Belief conference last summer, but they seem so ensconced in their bubbles of unconscious bias that they just can’t (or won’t) see it.

    This constant refusal to allow those of us who believe, in all integrity, that Scripture, tradition and reason supports a Church of England that wishes to marry those of us of the same-sex, is sheer stubbornness. It is not biblical, it is not rational, it is not founded in tradition and therefore, by definition, it is clearly not Anglican.

    I know an increasing number of faith leaders around the Communion now see this – which is why their provinces have moved forward and allowed a plurality of views on the grounds of conscience.  They also see the legalistic manner in which some continue to hold the rest of the Church to ransom.

    Most importantly, God sees.

    The fascinating question is, I think, what is God doing through all this? I for one believe that God is in fact moving us all out into the public square – for can we truly see the masses returning to our churches given all the scandals, abuse and hypocrisy that they have witnessed over recent years?  I believe there is a growing cry of “Ichabod” being heard within the Church of England – which for those who don’t know is a word used in 1 Samuel 4, meaning that “the glory of God has departed the temple”.  That is a topic for another blog, but perhaps is a rather fitting note to end with, and to reflect on as we approach Holy Week.