ViaMedia

Category: Gender

  • The Anglican Communion Reps on CNC

    by Canon Dr Phil Groves, a parish priest and former convenor of the Anglican Peace and Justice Network. His PhD is on Anglican Missional Ecclesiology and he was the Facilitator for the Listening Process in the Anglican Communion and Director of Continuing Indaba.

    Now we know who is to represent the Anglican Communion on the CNC, I hope that commentators from the BBC and other news organisations will stop saying that they will be a conservative block who will oppose any woman as Archbishop of Canterbury. It has always been obvious that this will not be the case.

    I remain unconvinced that this appointment process is sustainable in the long term, but it has given us an excellent diverse group of Anglicans who may be able to enhance the discernment process. They will not stop someone being chosen as Archbishop just because of their gender.

    In a previous post I speculated as to who would be chosen and I was wrong about all the individuals. I said at the time that I had no inside information. However, I was right that the requirement that all of them were recent members of the ACC meant that all would at least be comfortable with their partnership with provinces who had women bishops and even Primates, as well as with those provinces which celebrate the permanent and faithful relationships of their LGBTQI+ people, even if they themselves disagree, even strongly disagree, with equal marriage.

    It looks like on this I was right.

    I said that the Anglican Communion representatives may be more progressive than the C of E delegation. They may well be if we widen the definition of progressive to the key issues of climate activism, gender equality, gender justice, and the defence of minorities, for example Palestinian minorities – I suspect I am right on that as well.

    So, while the list of names is different to that which I put forward, my general point stands. Whoever guided this process did an excellent job. They had to balance all kinds of things and in the end two key decisions made all the difference. One thing I missed was that Canon Isaac Beach is Maori and so the obvious choice as an indigenous person. That was pretty bad and I apologise to him and to you all. I was also wrong about which person would be chosen for the primate seat: either Archbishop Mndolwa of Tanzania or Archbishop Hosam Naoum of Jerusalem would have been a great choice, as they are both wise leaders with deep faith. I suggested Archbishop Mndolwa, but they went with Archbishop Naoum.

    I have met a couple of the people chosen, but from reading their profiles this is what I hope they can bring to the CNC:

    I hope Canon Isaac will bring energy to the CNC with his entrepreneurial vision. I imagine him like Steven Bartlett on Dragons’ Den challenging the candidates to inspire him with a vision. His focus will be on combating the climate emergency. This will be so healthy in a process that might otherwise be bogged down by one issue, and one issue alone. The existential threat to humanity is climate and to have someone in the room reminding the CNC that there is a bigger world out there is absolutely vital.

    I hope that the very presence of Archbishop Naoum in the room will demand engagement on the next existential threat – the proliferation of devastating wars around the world. If the CNC does not stop to pray for the people of Palestine and Israel they will be letting us all down. Any applicant will need to be clear on how the Archbishop of Canterbury can prompt the conscience of the nation and the world in the face of horror, not only in Gaza, but also in Sudan, Myanma, Ukraine and elsewhere.

    I have never met Rev Prof Grace Nkansa Asante, but again she seems a terrific choice. Ghanaian Anglicanism is deeply catholic and it took much longer for women to be ordained there than in the evangelical heartlands of the East African Revival. She must have been convinced of her calling and patient for the church to recognise her. What really excites me is that she is a professor of economics. I hope that her very presence will force the CNC to consider economic justice. Our last two archbishops have spoken with clarity on this and our hope must be that the next will do also.

    The representative of the Americas is an interesting choice. Joaquín Philpotts is from Buenos Aires in the Anglican Province of South America. It is assumed that the Province of South America is conservative but, in reality, it is a complex entity. Previous Primates of the Province of the Southern Cone, such as Archbishops Maurice Sinclair and Greg Venables, were driving forces in what was then simply called the ‘Global South’, but not all in their provinces were convinced of the line they took. Archbishop Zavala of Chile had strong links to the Anglican Church in North America, but with Chile as a separate province, the commitment of the Province of South America to GAFCON and the Global Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans has not been clear cut, with the present primate attending the most recent Primates Meeting.

    My hope is that Joaquín Philpotts will bring the perspective of those Anglicans who are in a tiny minority. Being an Anglican in places like Argentina is often a very deliberate choice. I find that such Anglicans have a very clear understanding of our Anglican identity. They have to explain it to their friends and family who will often be Roman Catholic or Pentecostal. I have learnt so much of what it is to be Anglican from my sisters and brothers in South America, the Philippines, Mozambique, Japan and Korea. I hope Joaquín’s presence will require the candidates to be clear on just what it means to be Anglican in an ecumenical context.

    The last Anglican Communion representative is Bishop Mary Stallard of Llandaff. Some people raise the question of why three relatively small provinces get the same representation as the numerous huge provinces of Africa. It is a valid question. My answer would be that these small provinces are disproportionally affected by the Church of England. Archbishops of Canterbury have a tendency to forget that they are not the Primates of the British Isles – or even the UK. They need reminding. In 2010 Archbishop Rowan accepted the offer to welcome the Pope to the UK at an event in Edinburgh. Lambeth Palace never even stopped to think this might be odd, and the Scottish Episcopal Church was not consulted. The Archbishop of Canterbury was seated among the dignitaries and the Primus among the congregation. I was told at the time that it set back ecumenical relationships in Scotland. Archbishop Justin took it on himself to intervene when the Bishop of St David’s posted inappropriate Tweets. He pre-empted the Archbishop of Wales. The Archbishop of Canterbury needs to remember they are the Primate of the Church of England. It may sound odd, but my hope is that the Bishop of Llandaff will remind the candidates to focus on England in partnership with our neighbours and not act as a superior power.

    We all know that many people will focus on one issue as the CNC looks to appoint an Archbishop of Canterbury. I don’t even need to say what that issue is. My hope is that the Anglican Communion Representatives will enable the English members of the CNC to see a wider vison.

    I hope that those seeking to lead the Church of England will be challenged to demonstrate entrepreneurial ambition. I hope they will recognise the inconvenient truth that climate change is an existential threat. They will have the courage to campaign for peace and confront economic injustice. I hope they will be open to understanding Anglican identity from the perspective of those who deliberately choose to be Anglicans and that they recognise that the primary role of the Archbishop of Canterbury is to lead the Church of England.

    If the Communion representatives can lift the eyes of the electors above and beyond a single issue, no matter how dominating and divisive that issue is, they will have done us all a great service.

  • We used to Have Liturgy: Now we Have Bureaucracy

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

    From the first Book of Common Prayer in 1549, the Church of England was a church defined by its liturgy.

    The legislative arguments over PLF continue as though that’s still the case. But it isn’t.

    We are no longer a church defined by liturgy. Out in the real world – in the parishes – we haven’t had a common liturgy for years.

    What dominates the life of the parishes – and makes us all Anglicans – is not a shared liturgy, but a shared bureaucracy.

    For hundreds of years, the Book of Common Prayer defined the Church of England. You could hold it in your hand (less than one inch thick, less than A6 in size) and know that you had the entire Church of England right there, in your hand: the catechism, the calendar, morning and evening prayer, the eucharist, baptism, confirmation, marriage, ordination (bishops, priests and deacons), the burial of the dead, the 39 Articles, the full text of the readings for the Sunday eucharist, and even oddments like prayers for use at sea, and for the anniversary of the accession of the sovereign; the entire church, in one small book.

    It needed updating. 1928 was a wrong turn: archaic language, too internally political, too verbose. But the Second Vatican Council (1962 to 1965) set a new tone, internationally and ecumenically. The 1973 English-language Roman missal gave us a fresh new language for liturgy, and the foundations for the Church of England’s experimental services Series 3, published the same year. After many years of careful real-life testing and feedback, and supplemented by pieces commissioned from actual poets that are still amongst the best-loved pieces of poetic liturgy today (“Father of all, we give you thanks and praise…”), ASB 1980 replicated the high ambitions of BCP 1662: the entire Church of England, defined by its liturgy, renewed, in one book. The pages were slightly larger, the book was now thicker, but the layout and the language were fresh and accessible, and everything was there, from the complete text of the Sunday lectionary to the ordination of bishops, priests and deacons, via the eucharist for every season, baptism for every context, and morning prayer, evening prayer and eucharist for every day of the year; the entire Church of England, in one small book. Anyone could hold it in their hand. It belonged to all of us, to everyone. Hundreds of thousands of copies were bought by the parishes. Gold-edged copies, bound in white leather, were presented at baptisms and confirmations. A church, defined by its liturgy.

    How we got to where we are today is a story for another day; write your own version. But look at us now. Common Worship is not a book, or even a bookshelf, or even a bookshop, but a boundary-less concept, consisting of mismatched publications in different formats, corrections and revisions and supplements to those publications only ever issued as General Synod documents, some in PDF format, others in DOCX or HTML, plus various sections of different websites, apps, annual publications, and more besides if you want to try Google. Fine, if you have the time to spare. What are lay people, or enquirers on the brink of coming to faith, supposed to make of it all? We used to have liturgy; now we have bureaucracy. On Sunday at church, expect a photocopied leaflet; or possibly no liturgy at all. Even bishops don’t know where it begins and ends. Churchwardens haven’t a hope.

    But it’s more than just the loss of our liturgy. Where liturgy once held the Church of England together, something else holds the Church of England together instead; and that’s a huge bureaucracy. For every two-and-a-half full-time parish clergy, there’s a full-time-equivalent diocesan post: someone beavering away doing something at the regional office. All these huge, enormously expensive diocesan operations have emerged from nowhere over the last sixty years. Perhaps they are all doing valuable Christian work by some definition, but they are often hugely partisan, and only very weakly related – if at all – to a church once defined by its parishes and its liturgy. And having emerged from nowhere, these powerful partisan bureaucracies, linked to the national institutions, are now the only thing holding us together.

    At the end of the year 2000 – as the authorisation of ASB 1980 expired – the Church Times carried a cartoon, presumably intended to mock the Prayer Book Society, or at least to mock the idea of nostalgia in general. The caption ran: In 2295AD, the annual meeting of the ASB Society was held on one of Jupiter’s moons. But I think that’s me. Because ASB was replaced by nothing, nothing at all. Someone in clergy chapter pointed out at the time that ASB morning and evening prayer had technically become unauthorised without being replaced, so legally BCP was the only option (or perhaps Patterns for Worship?). I thought of him as a pedant; he was actually the canary in the mine, warning of a future where nobody in authority, or anywhere else, cared about common liturgy any more. Four and a half centuries of a church defined by its liturgy were over. They were over that day – the day that ASB’s authorisation expired – and he was the only one that both noticed and cared.

    Amongst the many losses, when ASB 1980 expired, was the use of adventurous bible translations. The set readings for Sunday’s Holy Communion, printed out in full in ASB, included readings from translations like The Jerusalem Bible, The New English Bible, and The Good News Bible (credited as TEV, Today’s English Version) – whichever the compilers thought best for the particular passage. Common Worship provides no texts and gives no guidance. Two editions of Common Worship’s adaptation of the widely-adopted Three-Year Lectionary were published independently, one in NRSV and one in NIV, both rather clunky study translations compared to JB, NEB and TEV, neither of them always ideal for reading out-loud at length from the lectern. Both the NRSV edition and the NIV edition are now long out-of-print. And the English language moves on: just as ASB 1980 was behind the times in terms of appropriate inclusive language for the human race almost as soon as it was published, so even the latest revised editions of NRSV and NIV are behind the times in terms of appropriate inclusive language for the divine. We are left with no common liturgy, and not even a decent bible. Sign me up for the team to work on ASB 2030. We’ll include a marriage service that works without reference to the gender of the partners. And choose which of these versions of this coming Trinity Sunday’s Gospel reading we might prefer (Year C, John 16.12-15):

    ‘I still have many things to say to you – more than you can know. But the Spirit of Truth will come to you, and guide you into all truth; honouring me, by taking what is mine, and making it known to you; disclosing to you the things that are to come. All that the Father has is mine; and the Spirit of Truth will take what is mine, and make it known to you.’ [ssra.uk]

    ‘I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.’ [NIV – 11 male pronouns]

    ‘I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.’ [NRSV – 8 male pronouns]

    (For reference, the word pneuma here, in the original Greek, translated Spirit, has no gender.)

    Meanwhile, the battle over PLF continues, using bureaucratic legislation as if we were still a church defined by liturgy. But take a look around, out in the real world, in the parishes. We haven’t been a church with a common liturgy for the whole of this century. And the PLF texts themselves are unworthy: there are better ones already in use in Wales, or available from scratch in seconds on ChatGPT. So the argument is not even about liturgy, in reality; the argument is about who can control that huge bureaucracy.

    If we can step back from the ongoing argument, the real question is: who are we, really? That’s the energy that’s powering the argument. I have spent my entire ministry, from ordination at the age of 24 to early retirement at 54, under the ‘promise’ that the recognition and blessing of same-sex relationships in the Church of England was/is effectively just months away. A report, commissioned by the House of Bishops, recommending exactly that, was suppressed by the same House of Bishops that commissioned it, while I was at theological college. That’s effectively my entire adult life. The real argument isn’t about authorising a few dreadful unusable prayers; it’s about ‘who we are, really’. That’s why my personal choice has been to devote my early retirement not to fighting the bureaucracy, but to crafting good liturgy; and to beginning at the very heart of it, with scripture. In standing back to take a breath, I realise that in the SSRA Complete Three-Year Lectionary, newly (beautifully) printed and published, we have something we haven’t had since ASB 1980: a complete lectionary with texts, printed out in full, specifically intended for reading aloud; except that this time they are also well laid out on the page, and of course in a properly inclusive-language translation – unlike even the very latest versions of NIV and NRSV. Our bureaucratic church hasn’t paid attention to such things for 45 years. The grand short-lived renewal schemes that come out of our regional and national bureaucracies with seasonal regularity tragically have this one thing in common: they never have anything to say about Sunday liturgy, which is still where ordinary Christian people (remarkably, and perhaps defiantly!) commit, week by week, to learning and growing in faith.

    So maybe I’m quietly working on an ASB 2030 just because nobody else is, and having SSRA in print and online is a major start. You might want to use its Gospel reading on Trinity Sunday. And then why not stick with it for the summer and beyond. Good Sunday liturgies, good words, even well-printed books: they matter. Once they’re in place, they’re just there, dependable and reliable. And they dependably and reliably both welcome and sustain.

     

    (Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud: The Complete Three Year Lectionary is available in three print editions, and free online, here)

     

  • Consensus, Compassion, Truth, and Grace

    by Charlie Bell, Fellow in Public Theology and Medicine at Girton College, Cambridge, Associate Vicar of St John the Divine, Kennington, in the Diocese of Southwark, and member of the Vocations and Ministry Working Group

    In every political fight, not least those within the church, it is a good idea – every so often – to take a step back, and ask some questions about the landscape we now find ourselves in. Even those calling for ‘more theology’ in the glacial LLF process admit, at least privately, that this is more a political than a theological fight. That’s not to say that there aren’t firmly held theological views influencing our debates, but it is to say that it is clear that it is not on the grounds of theology that the outcome of LLF will be decided. There are two broad strands within the church that have come to theologically divergent conclusions on the goodness, or otherwise, of same-sex, same-gender relationships. In doing so, they have come to theologically divergent conclusions on Christian anthropology, and many other things beside. This is about sex, certainly, but it’s about much more than that – the ethical questions are deeper and wider, and often end up in theological divergence on the nature of God, rather than of God’s creatures.

    It’s good, I think, that we have named that: but naming it doesn’t solve the problem. Those on different sides of the ‘debate’ are not being difficult when they refuse to agree with the other, and nor are they being – in the main – dishonest. Neither, let us be clear, does one ‘side’ have the monopoly on good Christian theology. There remains, of course, spurious talk of there being swathes of the Church of England who ‘haven’t made their mind up’, but there is precious little evidence of such people, because the question is not so much ‘would you bless these people’ but rather ‘would you let someone else bless them, even if you might, in good conscience, not do it yourself’? That is the political reality we find ourselves in, and it is the key question. I am yet to find someone who doesn’t have an answer one way or the other, whatever the genesis of their answer, and however unclear that person might be on the underlying anthropological questions that arise. The reason for that is because we are ultimately at a binary choice, and that is why this issue has turned to politics and away from the idea of shared discernment. There is now a choice that needs to be made.

    Once again, in private if not publicly, most people are agreed that there is now a moderate majority – perhaps more than moderate – in the pews, and amongst the clergy of the Church of England, in favour of blessing same sex couples (and allowing clergy to marry their same-sex partner) at the very least, and probably a majority in favour of marriage in church. We know that, in autumn 2023, the College of Bishops supported enabling clergy to enter same-sex civil marriages, and that there was an indicative vote in the House of Bishops with the same result. In the General Synod, it is clear by a basic review of the numbers that there is a narrow majority in favour of blessings and clergy marriage. In other words, views have shifted on this, and the current teaching and practice of the Church of England no longer reflects what the majority believe and wish for. The majorities are indeed quite narrow (and goodness knows, if they’d gone the other way, they’d be lauded as clear and decisive), but then everybody knows that the General Synod (because of how it is elected and formulated) is not representative of the wider opinion in the Church of England, tending towards what is often described as consensus. Yet this consensus is really created through ensuring that the different ‘camps’ of people in the Church of England get represented on the General Synod, with minority perspectives overrepresented by design.

    I cannot be the only person to feel a bit fed up with the political games. I’m bored of them – they make me angry, they make me intemperate, and they make me frustrated at the way the church corporate behaves. I get particularly angry when I sit in a room, Zoom or otherwise, and political point scoring is the endless currency, at the expense of LGBTQIA people, who are frequently conspicuous by their absence. We remain a thing – an issue. There are speeches in General Synod rejoicing at the frustration of the progress to give us the crumbs under the table. We are expected to absorb this, whilst those who could be our allies tell us to have cooler heads and do very little to use their power and influence to support us in case it makes difficulties for them. Yet, as with every group facing structural and systemic oppression, that is our lot – one need not look too far to see similar dynamics at play in other vexed ecclesiological questions.

    Yet whilst there is a place for anger, there is also a place for calmly interrogating the assumptions that underlie our current impasse, and I’d like to take a moment to do that in relation to consensus. This is the new word of the moment – and I am willing, at least for now, to suspend judgement and imagine that those calling for it are speaking out of a place of genuine concern and not political manipulation (although, not being naïve, I must admit to being sceptical).

    The argument goes like this: decisions on LLF are very significant, and are splitting the church. We need to reach consensus on this, meaning – in Synodical arithmetic – getting to two-thirds majorities, the use of Canon B2, and so on, because unless we do the church will split. This is just too important to rely on slim majorities.

    Now, leaving aside the reality that a slim majority in General Synod represents a significantly less slim majority in the wider church, let’s just think for a moment about what is being said here. Firstly, the suggestion is that if such a consensus view was reached (at two thirds of Synod, for example), then the threats of schism would dissipate. There is no evidence that this is the case. Secondly, the suggestion is that the majority view should be overruled by the minority until consensus is reached. It is not at all clear why this should be the case, not least given that the suggestion is not that all must change practice but rather that pastoral accommodation be made that would enable those who would like to, to do so. If we were talking about a ‘must’ and not a ‘may’ situation, the argument might hold more water. But we’re not – we’re talking about enabling a clear difference in theological belief to be embodied through an extremely modest change in practice.

    Thirdly, and perhaps more importantly, we are being asked to accept as a fait accompli that schism will come, that the ‘church will split’, without interrogating that claim for a moment. Who precisely is making that claim, and why? On whose terms is this debate being held? If we might resituate it for a moment, we are being pressurised to accept that the anti-LLF minority’s view is inevitable – that it simply logically follows that schism will come if particular demands aren’t met, and this is controlling – through fear – the actions of our decision-makers. It is time for us to name that and stop accepting the inevitability of such a choice – for a choice it is. This is about red lines, and because of that it is ultimately about holding the majority to ransom. Recognising that rather changes the dynamics.

    Which brings me back to the reality of our current situation.

    Those arguing for no change on the basis of needing a consensus seem not to realise – or care – the strain that this is taking on LGBTQIA faithful Christians. I want to imagine that it is the former, and that this is a failure of imagination and not compassion, but having sat in enough meetings, I don’t think the sheer cost of this for LGBTQIA people is remotely recognised, or, frankly, that we matter to many of those who still see this as ‘an issue’. Compassion requires you to ‘suffer with’, and there is precious little evidence of that. At the same time, there are potential ordinands desperate to offer themselves to the church in service who are being banned from doing so, and faithful priests who have lost their ministries for following their hearts. There are queer couples to whom we can still not offer even basic sacramental provision. Every time there is even a gentle move forwards, we are faced with a barrage of passive aggression and made to feel like we are the problem.

    But we’re not the problem, and we are asking for crumbs.

    As we look towards final decisions being made, it is incumbent upon us all to tell the truth, and for our bishops – who are scared by the constant threats – to recognise that it is not to the rich and powerful, not to those who withhold parish share and make demands, that they most owe their allegiance, as followers of the crucified Lord.  It is to those who ask for a cup of water, and who are still refused. It’s hard work to push back against powerful narratives, but it is incumbent upon anyone in Christian leadership to seek and speak the truth, with grace. Time will tell if we are willing to do that, together. Yet let us not forget that the God who knows the secrets of our hearts is the God who will call us all to account.

  • Common Worship and our Gender-neutral God

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

    Thirty years ago, in making the move from ASB to Common Worship, the Church of England took the decision to vastly reduce the use of he/him pronouns for God.

    This was an incredibly bold and progressive decision for a church traditionally defined by its liturgy.

    That this decision really matters is seen not least in the open wounds that continue to grieve the contemporary church: institutionalised sexism, the abuse crisis, LLF. The role and the nature of gender is a common thread through these three – especially, inevitably, the role and nature of masculinity, and toxic masculinity. If we constantly reinforce the image of God as exclusively male, we just throw more fuel on these three fires.

    Let us give thanks to the Lord our God

                It is right to give (him) thanks and praise

    It happened at the millennium. After twenty-seven years, we would have to start omitting the word ‘him’. It makes the rhythm of the line completely different. To practice, we chanted, before the service, ‘Right! Thanks! Praise!’

    Other provinces and denominations had made the change more clumsily. The lazy default is to replace every male pronoun for God with the word God; hence, in many provinces: ‘It is right to give God thanks and praise’. It is factually accurate – you could sign it in a legal document – but it lacks all poetry: that double-g is ugly and awkward, and placing the word God on a down-beat is somehow just wrong. So others chose to say, ‘It is right to give our thanks and praise’. It is a more poetic line – but it makes it all about us.

    The Common Worship solution is altogether better. It considers the line in its context. A look at the previous line reveals that the two suggestions for replacing the word ‘him’ (namely ‘God’ and ‘our’) are both redundant, as they are already specified in the previous line: it is ‘us’ giving thanks, ‘to the Lord our God’. The response in Common Worship – which simply omits the word ‘him’ – is sufficient, and far more poetic. ‘Right! Thanks! Praise!’

    And of course no he/him: no endless reinforcement of the false image of a masculine God.

    But somehow we didn’t manage to follow through on this incredibly bold and progressive decision, made thirty years ago. The bombardment of masculine pronouns continues unabated, not only in the traditional texts still in use (and in some other legacy texts brought forward), but in our preaching, in our conversations, in our parish magazine articles, on our diocesan websites – and of course, in our bible translations.

    I have actually made a point of avoiding he/him pronouns for God throughout my ministry – for more than thirty years. It takes a little time to develop the habit, and still the occasional pause to re?phrase a sentence before speaking – but pausing before making an assertion about God usually does no harm. And as a general principle, it seems appropriate not to make so many assertions about God in quick succession that pronouns become necessary. It seems appropriate not to reduce God to a pronoun at all, rather than arguing about which pronoun to use.

    Late in the pandemic, I was seven years into ministry in a four-parish benefice, and it came about that the time was right to invite four different lay people each to take their first turn at providing a homily at the Parish Communion. Each brought their own unique gifts and experience to their contribution, and each was a delight. But this was interesting: one of the four had decades of faith history, and spoke of God as he/him; the other three had walked much of their faith journey in the previous few years, and they did not use pronouns for God at all; I had the impression that they would no more have referred to God as he/him than referred to God as ‘it’.

    This is surely the future we need: a future without the false deification of masculinity, toxic or otherwise; indeed a future without the deification of either gender over the other; a future with God as naturally without gender, just as God is without height, weight, or race.

    God’s pronouns are not he/him. And a tidy and universally uncontroversial solution is not to reduce God to a pronoun at all. We can all adopt this approach, in our preaching, in our conversations, in our parish magazine articles, on our websites; and in our liturgy, thanks to Common Worship, if we’re just slightly selective about what we use; and now, for the first time, in our bible readings as well.

    Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud uses he/him pronouns for Father, for Son, and for Jesus. But God, Lord, the Holy Spirit, the eternal Word, and the eternal Christ, take no pronouns. And as with ‘Right! Thanks! Praise!’, the solution is always poetic. The first priority of the SSRA translation was that it should work well for reading aloud, in ordinary churches on ordinary Sundays. But inclusive language was just part of the translator’s DNA. So as the project reaches the milestone of publication as a perpetual print edition, it has yet another reason to be called remarkable, timely and necessary: it is the only lectionary translation in which God does not take he/him pronouns. It is done so subtly that you would not even notice unless it was pointed out. And yet the potential is a generation who would no more refer to God as he/him than refer to God as ‘it’; a generation who would simply choose not to reduce God to a pronoun at all, because that’s not how you speak about God.

    So yes, the SSRA Complete Three-Year Lectionary is in print: the Luxury Hardback Edition, the Standard Lectern Edition, the Home Paperback Edition, all supported by the live website. In another surprise, I find that it also appears to be the only version of the Three-Year Sunday Lectionary in print in the UK at all, apart from the much-criticised new catholic edition in ESV. This does not speak well of our prioritisation and valuing of scripture, as a church.

    One of the true joys of the last three years has been spending so much time in scripture. And one of many things I have learned is that we gain nothing from endlessly interrupting the flow of the lectionary with our special themed Sundays, with readings chosen ‘to fit the theme’. Those Sundays mirror the approach taken by our opponents: they risk presenting a false God that we have cobbled together in our own image. In stark contrast, if we just read steadily, ploddingly even, through the Gospels and Epistles for the year, as set for the Thirty-Four Sundays in Ordinary Time (given a muddle of different names in Common Worship), we hear a gospel of love and grace, and liberation from the law, condemning those who would condemn us, doggedly, week after week after week, making a mockery of those conservatives who claim to be ‘bible-believing Christians’ (and indeed of those liberals who think the solution is to respond to them by saying ‘the bible doesn’t matter any more’). What we need is a bible translation that re-engages us with the scriptures, that has us on the edge of our seats with anticipation as the readings are about to begin, that makes the reading of the scriptures a highlight of the Sunday gathering.

    Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud aims for all of this and more. Take a click around, in time for the start of a new three-year cycle this Advent – or even in time for this Sunday – here.

    Previous Via Media News blogs on SSRA are here and here

     

  • Behold the Men: Identifying Risks, Reconsidering Relationships

    by Rachel Starr, Director of Studies at the Queen’s Foundation for Ecumenical Theological Education, Birmingham

    Since Behold the Men was published in January, a lot of people have commented on its relevance to the present moment. Conversations about how churches interpret, encourage, even prescribe, certain models of masculinities have long been needed, but often not given the necessary attention. Today’s global realities have brought into sharper focus the problematic intersections of white power, patriarchy, colonialism and certain forms of Christianity. Yet churches are still in denial about the necessary theological work they need to do in relation to abuse, inequality and injustice.

    In an article from 2019 addressing clerical abuse in the Roman Catholic Church, Susan A. Ross observes that ‘the insights that feminist theology offers to this crisis have not received the kind of attention they deserve’ and seeks to demonstrate both that ‘many (although not all) of the issues in clergy sexual abuse are theologically grounded’ and also that ‘feminist insights can contribute to a transformed church in which ?patriarchy and clericalism no longer dominate, where there is a healthy and holistic theology of sexuality, and ?where the voices of women and the laity are truly heard’ (Ross 2019, p. 633).?

    When viewed in relation to the ongoing safeguarding crisis within many churches, the risks inherent within dominant models of masculinity are clear to see.

    Within many such models, men are considered solitary, independent figures. They are expected to be both self-centred and self-reliant rather than understanding themselves in relation to a wider community. Men are encouraged to be the answer rather than to ask questions or listen to other people’s responses. They are called on to be strong, to ignore or decry their own and others’ vulnerabilities. Men are expected to lead rather than follow, receive instruction or advice. Men in leadership face pressure to be the charismatic leader, the hero, the saviour. As I have written elsewhere, the hero is best avoided.

    As part of their formation within such dominant models of masculinity, men are asked to deny or overcome emotions – framed as signs of weakness – and focus on the rational mind. They are kept at a distance from the realities of their own – and especially others’ – bodies. In different ways, and in a variety of settings, men are seen as creators and consumers, rather than those tasked with caring or cleaning up. This can result in a lack of attentiveness to the impact of actions or decisions.

    A model of masculinity found in some men’s spirituality movements is that of the ‘wild man’. While this model is less prevalent in British churches, it is present in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. This is a model focused on individual spiritual needs, sometimes to be pursued with aggression. It invites risk-taking rather than rule-following. Another model present in some Christian traditions is the successful man, whose presence is sought and whose failings are overlooked. A third model explored in Behold the Men is the family man, often found within a ‘culture of niceness’ which can mask power and stifle challenge. All three of these models – and others beside – need to be reconsidered if churches are to become places of wellbeing for all.

    Behold the Men offers some suggestions as to how churches might begin conversations around what it might mean to be a man of faith.

    1. Beginning with bodies

    ‘In our earliest conversations about the book, we talked about the importance of the body. While we cover shared ground with some systematic theology texts, we made a conscious decision to begin not with God but with human bodies, specifically, men’s bodies. Each chapter places bodies central to the discussion: naked, earthed, displaced, broken, of and in Christ, healing, resistant, receptive, created and connected’ (Beckford and Starr 2015, p. 4).

    We hope the book will help readers to listen to their own bodies and trust the insights offered: but not to be limited by their own embodied experiences. As Brazilian feminist theologian Ivone Gebara writes, ‘I have had … to listen with my whole body to what my particular body had not experienced concretely’ (Gebara 1995, p. 129).

    1. An ongoing conversation

    Behold the Men brings together more than a dozen contributors, who offer insights from a range of contexts, identities and theological traditions. The aim of the book is not to propel the reader towards a clear conclusion. Instead, it invites readers to listen carefully to different experiences, gain fresh insight and be encouraged to find new ways forward. It is not the first book exploring masculinities within Christianity, and we hope it will not be the last.

    1. ‘We Cannot Walk Alone’

    We chose to use Birmingham artist Eddy Aigbe’s painting, ‘We Cannot Walk Alone,’ for the book cover. Originally commissioned by Celebrating Sanctuary for Refugee Week in 2021, the image seeks to convey many different people coming together to shape more inclusive, just communities. In the work of justice, the wisdom, compassion and commitment of many is needed. We hope our book will be a resource for the journey. Certainly, there is much distance for our churches to travel if they are to be places where all bodies are welcomed, respected and honoured. Challenging violent and limiting models of masculinity within churches, exploring more inclusive and healthy ways of being men of faith, is long overdue.

  • The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Anglican Communion

    by Canon Dr Phil Groves, a parish priest in the Wychert Vale Benefice. His PhD is on Anglican Missional Ecclesiology and he was the Facilitator for the Listening Process in the Anglican Communion and Director of Continuing Indaba

    At midnight tonight Justin Welby will have left his role and the search for new Archbishop of Canterbury will soon be underway in earnest.

    This time there will be five representatives from the Anglican Communion on the CNC. They have probably already been selected but, rather like a football pundit on the eve of a big game, I want to offer some speculation.

    It is widely assumed that the Anglican Communion representatives will massively skew the process towards a conservative outcome. In particular, I have heard it said on numerous occasions that they will block any possibility of a woman in Lambeth Palace.

    Call me mad, but I don’t think it is inevitable – in fact it could be quite the opposite.

    At this point it is quite unpredictable who will make the list, but we have a list of names. They will all have participated as members at the Anglican Consultative Council.

    If you are not familiar with the Anglican Communion the process will make your head spin, and even for me who has attended four ACCs, two Lambeth Conferences, and three Primates’ Meetings it is not completely clear.

    As I understand it, Primates from each of the five regions of the Communion – Asia, the Americas, Africa, Europe, and Oceania – will have searched through the list of present and recent ACC members to find people to nominate. Immediately this is a bit complex, because these regions do not precisely reflect the existing boundaries, so I expect Jerusalem and the Middle East to be in Asia and potentially East Asia to be part of Oceania.

    I could be wrong – if you know any information I don’t, please put it in the comments.

    By now the names may have been presented to a group from the Standing Committee of the Anglican Communion to select the five members. From the nominees, the Standing Committee will select at least one Primate, one priest or deacon (who could be a bishop), and one member of the laity. At least two will be male, and two female. A majority should be people of global-majority heritage. Not only that, there should be a youth representative and an indigenous person.

    Is your head spinning? It should be.

    Quite a lot of power is being placed in the hands of the group choosing the representatives. We do not have a clear indication of who is on that group, but it will be impossible for them not to have their bias; we all have bias. However, they have to follow the rules.

    Those rules seem to limit the choice of Primate to one who is a member of the ACC. Until recently, the constitution of the ACC was designed to preclude primates from being members, but there are currently two Primates who attend the ACC as members, the Archbishops of Jerusalem and Tanzania. If they limit themselves to those two, then either the Africa or the Asia and the Middle East place is taken.

    By coincidence, both Archbishop Naoum and Archbishop Mndolwa studied theology in Grahamstown, South Africa and Virginia in the US. These are more liberal institutions than some of the others attended by other eligible primates; neither are linked to conservative groups and both have links with TEC. I have deep respect for both Archbishops: they are people of integrity and wisdom. I suspect that Archbishop Naoum would be a good fit, but as he is Archbishop of Jerusalem and, as I shall explain, there are very good reasons to fill the Asia and Middle East slot with the ‘youth’ representative, it might be that the slot for Primates is taken by Archbishop Mndolwa.

    However, there is another option. Since ACC 14, the Primates’ Standing Committee has attended ACC meetings. As recently as ACC 16 they were only observers, but more recently they have been incorporated as members. I am unclear as to whether this has actually been discussed by the ACC and if the constitution has been amended, but it seems to be de facto in place. This means they could opt for one of the Primates on Standing Committee.

    If that is the case then there will be a focus on the one representative from Africa. The perception is that an African would be ‘conservative’ but such labels can be misleading. An African delegate will not be an advocate of equal marriage, that is certain, but they are likely to be from a province that has maintained its links with TEC and they are unlikely to object to a woman as Archbishop of Canterbury. One reason for this is that the requirement for nominations from those who have recently participated as members of the ACC means the GAFCON provinces of Nigeria, Rwanda, and Uganda are all ruled out. They have not sent delegations to the ACC for years.

    It is possible that a representative could come from the more progressive provinces such as Southern Africa, but even if they are from the evangelical heartlands of Kenya or South Sudan, they would be unlikely to block a woman Archbishop of Canterbury. For example, Archbishop Ole Sapit – the Primate of Kenya – has consecrated women as bishops. He might be a strong candidate from the Primates’ Standing Committee. Alternatively, South Sudan has taken a lead in the Global South Fellowship of Anglicans but their episcopal delegate to ACC is Bishop Elizabeth Awut, one of many impressive African women on the Council.

    African Anglicanism is not the conservative homogeny that it is portrayed as being. In most places it is a force for the empowerment of women. In the UK some may still think of the Mothers’ Union as an aging organisation concerned with sewing and jam making, but its African membership makes it the biggest member organisation in the world. It is a vibrant and powerful voice for women across Africa and has taken feminist stands on gender-based violence, education for girls, and female genital mutilation. If they choose a woman, there is a good chance she will have a similar feminist agenda.

    While there is so much choice available to the Standing Committee from Africa that it is hard to know who might be chosen, they are likely to celebrate a woman as Archbishop of Canterbury.

    Next, we turn to ‘Europe’, which in this context means Ireland, Wales, and Scotland. I think it is unlikely that any of the Primates would want to be in a position of choosing the archbishop of their neighbouring province, so it is likely that they will seek a recent or present ACC delegate. Probably the most qualified is Canon Alistair Dinnie who has just stepped down from the Standing Committee. He was the first gay man to be married in the SEC and so his selection might bring on scrutiny that he would find intrusive. But there is a good chance that the representative could come from a church which is comfortable blessing gay unions, or even marrying gay people, and which would also be delighted with a woman as the Archbishop of Canterbury.

    As I hinted earlier, Asia could provide the Youth Representative. Aishi Drong is the official lay representative from Bangladesh, but she is also a youth representative and a member of the Standing Committee. She ticks so many boxes it makes the matrix possible. I suspect they would need a very good reason not to pick her.

    Even if she is not the youth representative, the young person will come from the Anglican Youth Network. All the members of that network are more likely to be energised by Greta Thunberg than to have heard of Mary Whitehouse. The Anglican Youth Network is marked out by a commitment to the environment and to the empowerment of women and girls. I can’t see any youth representative opposing a woman in Canterbury.

    It would be a shock to me if the representative from the Americas was not progressive. The Primate of Brazil – Archbishop Marinez Bassotto – might be a candidate and she delights in being in a church which has full equal marriage. Another great candidate would be Ranjit Matthews, the clergy representative of TEC, who is very well respected across the Communion. There are many people to choose from, but whoever is chosen is likely to be progressive.

    What may cause a problem for the Standing Committee is that there does not appear to be an indigenous person among the ACC members from the provinces of the Americas. That means they will need to look to Oceania to offer an indigenous person. However, this will present a problem. The Anglican Indigenous Network limits its membership to those who are minorities in their historic lands.

    The Network has always been one of the most dynamic of Networks in the Communion. Anglican institutions in some parts of the world were violent oppressors of indigenous peoples, especially in places such as Canada and Australia. However, in recent years the Anglican Church has become a beacon of hope with indigenous leadership and successful campaigns for indigenous rights. The Anglican Indigenous Network is an amazing resource for reconciliation and restoration. However, and here again please correct me if I am wrong in the comments, I can’t spot an ‘indigenous’ person who has been a full delegate to either ACC 16 or 17.

    The closest is possibly the Polynesian Fe’iloakitau Kaho Tevi who represents the Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand, and Polynesia. He is an environmental activist and he is likely to want an Archbishop who pays attention to the climate crisis. He is not going to be a conservative voice on the committee.

    The Indigenous Network is not conventionally conservative. The members have been engaged in a conversation on gender and sexuality in their own way and have refused to be drawn into the polarised conflicts. They have many important women among them and again would likely celebrate a woman Archbishop.

    The brief given to the Standing Committee of the Anglican Communion thus offers a bias that could result in a delegation more progressive than those from the Diocese of Canterbury or the Church of England.

    While this article is complete speculation, I can’t find any reason to believe that the Anglican Communion members of CNC will block a woman for Canterbury.

    The project will work if the Anglican Communion delegation prioritise finding a fantastic leader for the Church of England. If they work to their best they can offer deep insight to help the whole team discern the kind of leader we need. If they do that, they will have someone who contributes to the Anglican Communion without trying to solve its problems.

    If they focus on getting a global leader they will fail to deliver a good leader for us in the Church of England and they will have an impaired Archbishop of Canterbury.

    This is all speculation – let’s see what is announced.

  • 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.

     

     

  • 30 Years, 40 Years: And Not Equal Yet

    by Chris Polhill, one of the first women to be ordained in the Church of England, and author of Through the Gateways of a Garden (2024)

    This September I celebrate 40 years in ministry, first as a Deaconess, then ordained deacon three years later. Seven years after that, I was one of the first women to be ordained priest in the Church of England. So, those quick at maths will see that I have been a priest for 30 years. These anniversaries have left me very reflective about the Church of England.

    To the outsider we can look as though all is well for women in this church. Women are priests, bishops, deans, and one of the three ‘top’ posts, Bishop of London, is a woman. So the CofE looks like an equal opportunities employer, but it is not. Indeed it is exempt from parliament’s Equal Opportunities Act, and this conceals the minefield that has left me reflective, despondent, angry and not quite seeing the way ahead.

    In November 1992 I joined many others standing outside Church House in London while the Church of England General Synod debated and voted on whether the C of E should ordain women as priests. The legislation had already been debated in diocesan synods and passed with a substantial majority, so it was now coming for the main vote at General Synod, needing a two-thirds majority in each of the three Houses: Laity, Clergy and Bishops. Outside the building with us were many journalists from all over the world. I was interviewed for an Australian radio station, and many others contributed to newspaper reports. Women and men from theological colleges stood with a banner saying ‘Waiting’. We sang; we hoped that this time it would be different from the vote in the 1970s; we prayed. And the vote was in favour of women as priests in all 3 Houses by more than the required two-thirds majorities. We sang outside with joy, while inside it was received in silence to respect those who were against the result. “Vicars with knickers” was the Sun’s headline next day.

    We were very firmly told by our bishops that we were not to celebrate as the pain of those who had lost the vote was so great.

    1993 was a difficult year and it was hard to believe that the Church of England had made a positive decision to ordain women. The talk among clergymen seemed to be around how many of their congregation would leave if their woman deacon was ordained priest. Colleagues, my own among them, changed from being positive about women priests to seeing us as a problem. Their feelings, now that women as priests was a real possibility, did not match their thinking when it had only been an idea. “Gut-lag”, we called it. The old boys’ network in both the church and parliament got together and the House of Bishops was focussed on keeping as many clergy from leaving as they could. According to the press, about 1000 had threatened to leave, some taking their congregations with them. The Church agreed to compensate those who left with large sums of money. The Roman Catholic church agreed that married men from the CofE could serve with them as priests, though all who took this path had to go through some further training.

    There are two extremes in the CofE among those who were then, and still remain, against women as priests. There are those who are waiting for the pope to decide about women before they can accept it; this despite the fact that the CofE was formed as a departure from Rome and from having to accept the pope’s decisions. At the other extreme are those who see the Bible’s instructions about male headship as paramount. The pressure from parliament’s Ecclesiastical Committee was for legal safeguards for those opposed to women, and in consequence the CofE is the only province in the Anglican communion that has legal provision for those who will not accept women as priests. The other provinces managed the issue pastorally. The House of Bishops agreed with those who said that they could not accept a bishop who ordained women as priests, and that they were ‘tainted’ by having done so. This led to bishops representing each end of the argument being consecrated, and some diocesan bishops choosing only to ordain deacons so that they could remain a focus for unity in their diocese. I was told this would be a short-term arrangement, but it is a fixture still. This changed the nature of being a bishop, as bishops were never before selected by theological flavour, as it were. I keep having fanciful ideas of poems and bishops and flavours…

    I am seriously angry that the bishops of the time agreed with the idea that ordaining women tainted the bishop who did so. It is very suspect theology. Look at it this way, if a bishop said to a Black man, ‘I’m sorry, but ordaining you will affect me so that I can’t ordain white men as I usually do, they just wouldn’t accept me, and no, I wouldn’t receive communion from you because, for me, only white men can be priests.’ He would rightly be called out for the appalling racism he had expressed, yet put woman instead of Black man, and men instead of white men, and that is exactly what the CofE is practising. Men who think this are still being ordained. No-one seems to acknowledge the misogynistic sexism that the house of bishops agreed to and continues to agree to in the Church of England.

    The Ecclesiastical committee enabled further delays by talking of expediency. Yes, Synod had voted for women as priests but was it an expedient time?!!! However, come 1994, after many letters to MPs, women were ordained and we did celebrate. I was ordained priest in St. Albans Abbey on 23rd April 1994, and St. Albans diocese had a magnificent celebration 30 years on. I loved it. Smiling women led the service in the Abbey, and many people were there to celebrate as it had been well advertised. I caught up with some friends from long ago. It was very different in the diocese where I have served for the last 25 years though, Lichfield. We were prayed for at the clergy conference.

    In the intervening years I, along with many other women, got on with the job and kept my head down. This 30 year anniversary, however, has caused me to revisit the decisions that were made and wonder why they are still there. I would like to see the House of Bishops wake up to what was agreed then; to see the damage it has done to the office of bishop, and to stop making bishops for specific groups. I was shocked to discover we still accept men for ordination who do not think women can be priests, when there are other denominations they could more justly serve. I would love to see the CofE for once lead the society we allegedly serve, in exposing and wiping out misogyny and sexism from every area of life, so women and men can work together as partners in serving the gospel.

  • The Whole of Who We Are

    by Susannah Clark; she belongs to the Fellowship of the Love of God (Oxford)

    It was Augustine who wrote ‘You were within me, but I was outside’.

    How many people find themselves living, at least in part, outside themselves: performing to colleagues to fit in and meet their approval; or conforming with others around us – at work or at church – to feel part of the group and accepted? Even sadder, when we lose contact with ourselves. You may know the feeling, when you work and work, until you finally stop and ask, ‘Yes, but where am I in all this? In the life I lead?’ and you feel out of touch with yourself.

    We so easily do this to ourselves, and drift away from who we really are, uniquely made and cherished by God. We can feel fragmented, with countless loose ends, but haunted by a kind of inauthenticity. ‘How are you, Susannah?’ ‘Oh I’m fine,’ when you’re not. In our ‘outside’ lives when we’re fronting up ourselves to others like that, it is all too easy to become alienated from the God who dwells within us, always longing and calling us to get back in touch, to open and grow… to resume the journey and vocation to become the whole of who we are.

    In the Carmelite practice of contemplation, that re-connecting with the God who knows and loves us is called ‘recollection’… collecting yourself together again, and recalling the core reality of who we are in relationship with God… God who knows us tenderly, calls us into our being and becoming, loves us to the point of no turning back… and beckons us to know ourselves in opening up and devotion of our souls.

    That opening up can be – oh – so raw, and we may well fear it: because so many of us have closed doors in our souls that we’d rather not open… old hurts, old shames, and the anxiety of what it might cost if we do: what we might unleash! And yet, there is a gentleness and healing in the love of God, and opening up to the flow of God’s love is the beginning of becoming. It’s opening up, often in trembling steps, to the whole of who we are. Most of us know on paper that love is the great commandment, the first imperative, if we are to give ourselves to God and be authentic. But truly opening up means more than just being loved.

    The flow of God’s love in our being and lives is like a stream of compassion: as Jesus described it, streams of living water that would flow from within us. It is not simply a static pool that we can wallow in for our own enjoyment alone. Yes, God does water our soul like a garden, and wants us to receive and to flourish. But the fulfilment of our being is more than self alone. The Love of God is a flowing stream, the Spirit of God, longing to reach through us to others… because that’s what love does: it flows and enlivens us in the act of opening up our hearts to others round about us. When we give ourselves like that, as channels of mercy, we start to know the best of who we are. We recollect and encounter the authenticity we can have in God.

    For decades I self-harmed, and ‘who’ people saw did not match who I was, how I felt, inside. I policed and defended and locked down that person for fear of discovery. I tried to project and act out a congruent manhood to meet their expectations and presuppositions, and yet… how I was inside my ‘gestalt’, what I felt, how I longed to become, was painfully incongruent with my physical body. So I tried to shut all the doors, put my integral person in a box, tape down the lid, and hide it away. But repression can be like a dam that increases and increases in pressure, until it erupts in negative ways: in my case in terrible self-harm. That was the cost of ‘performance’ outside my true self. Not waving but drowning.

    Then sometimes the dam finally breaks – I’m not just talking about trans experience, it happens to many people. In my own case I think it broke because I ached for God so much. I ached to be true. And once the dam was broken I could not put it all back. I transitioned. It was not a casual ‘life style choice’. I lost friends who ghosted me. I was told by my employers that I must leave. I lost my home. For a while I even lost my children. People at my church told me I was wrecking my life. And yet, God did not abandon me. On the contrary, I felt held and comforted and spiritually alive. I commenced hormones, and within weeks the self-harm of decades just ceased. I underwent surgery. An amazing Anglican community of sisters (in fact the community that was later featured in ‘Call the Midwife’) took me in, loved me, and nursed me for ten weeks after surgery. ‘Yours is just like ours’ they gently assured me as they tended the wounds. Christian inclusion.

    My contemplative life deepened and came alive, and I was guided and helped by another Anglican community: the Sisters of the Love of God in Oxford. They were wonderful, and encouraged me along my contemplative path. I learnt the practice of trust in the God who is there, even through the cloud of unknowing. I dared to open doors long closed, I confronted myself, I opened my being to God. My life became congruent and no longer racked by dysphoria. Instead… deep psychological ease and a more practical, productive day-to-day, week-to-week journey. It has now been fifteen years. I re-trained as a nurse, and it was the best thing I could have done: in looking outwards to others I found myself healed from within. My life – and the journey to become the whole of who I am – expanded, opened up, found release in little practical acts on the hospital wards. Contemplative life is not just internal: it permeates and colonises our practical lives as well.

    Friends at church had warned, ‘It will end badly’ and some Christians still say ‘Transition is wrong. It’s against the will of God.’ They call my vagina a ‘mutilation’ and my womanhood a fake. Politicians and sadly some Christians go further, politicising my quiet life and who I am, and framing people like me as ‘threats’ and ‘predators’. It is hurtful and in some cases hateful. They talk about an ‘ideology’ but in truth they have an ideology themselves. Their language endangers trans lives on the street, massaging the ‘culture wars rhetoric’ and providing a kind of mandate for hatred in the eyes and sick minds of those who spit, or threaten, or shout abuse: ‘you’re a pervert and a bloke in a frock’. It is sad and a bit shameful, weaponising who we are for political gain. In truth, for most trans people our lives are as mundane as anyone else’s: getting up, going to work, shopping, washing, ironing, making supper. It’s the same ‘lifestyle’ as yours I am sure: it’s called being a human being.

    My children – all three are committed Christians – have returned to love me tenderly. I am so proud of them and their devoted lives. I’m not jubilant about the impact on them and others, but we are loving and close now, which I find really humbling. One of my last jobs before retirement in 2022 was as a school nurse caring for 1200 teenagers in a large secondary. There I witnessed – but did not proselytise – four trans teenagers who were trying to explore the whole of who they were. The school had a great ethos: to afford them time, space, and respect. The same respect given to young gay or lesbian teens there. They, and all the students, would come to me for care, for cuts, inhalers, migraines, allergic reactions, or sometimes just to talk. And within the first week, I was just ‘the nurse’. Teens are great like that.

    It’s not just individuals though, is it? It’s not only about me, me, me. I’m incredibly insignificant in the great scheme of things. Thank goodness. The whole point about transition is just to get on with your life, only with greater psychological ease, more congruity, more in touch with who you are and can become. It’s the same for the Church as a whole: the call of God to open up to the whole of who we are and can become. Not excluding people, or insisting everyone conforms to a single dominant dogma, but learning that when a church welcomes the neuro-diverse, the foreigner, the gay, the bi-, the disabled, the trans, the precious individual beset with mental health issues… every one of them has been uniquely created by God and brings gift to God’s community… which would be impoverished without them.

    Yes, as a Church, we should pray that in opening up to the flow of God’s love we open more and more to the whole of who we are.

     

     

  • Check Complete: Nothing to See Here

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

    After the publication of a report into the appointment of the Bishop of Blackburn and its implications that has taken almost a year, the Church of England has issued a simultaneous press release headed ‘Independent reviewer upholds appointment process for Bishop of Blackburn.’  Or, in other words, ‘Nothing to see here.’

    Having not seen the report in advance, Women and the Church (WATCH) – which first submitted concerns to the Independent Reviewer, Canon Maggie Swinson, in April 2023 – has taken some time to digest the 45 pages of the report and finds that actually there is quite a lot to see.

    In summary,

    • Swinson flags up that the Church of England has still not done the work that was recommended by her predecessor, Sir Philip Mawer, in 2017 on the theological and pastoral work that urgently needs to be done to take account of the impact on women’s ministries and well-being when they have a diocesan Bishop who is non-ordaining.  The current 2014 House of Bishops Declaration (‘the Declaration’) is one-sided and only concerns itself with protecting the interests of those who do not fully accept women’s ministry.  It makes no provisions or protections for women whose ministries and lives are affected by those who don’t fully recognise them.  Swinson concludes that this work must be done – but, as yet, the Church of England has done nothing about this or stated any intention to do so.
    • Swinson recommends that ‘consideration is given to re-examining the scope of the Independent Reviewer’s jurisdiction’ so that it can consider the concerns and grievances of women and those who do fully accept women’s ministries, rather than just those who do not – as is the current arrangement.
    • She makes recommendations as to how the Vacancy in See Committee might avoid conflicts of interest in the future and make truly ‘safe spaces’ for consultation; and impose a minimum timescale to give proper opportunity for good and thorough consultation.

    Furthermore, although the appointment process may have met the letter of the law, Swinson refers to flaws in the process, and says:

    • In response to concerns about the appointment being rushed through and the process not being well-managed:

    *‘Both the correspondence I received and the conversations I had with individuals involved in the diocese… suggest that there was an actual or perceived sense of time pressure. It is possible that some of the perceived pressure was exacerbated by the language of “jumping the queue” [used in the letter dated 4 April 2022 and sent out by Bishop Jill Duff, Bishop of Lancaster and Chair of the Vacancy in See Committee], what some interviewees understood from comments in meetings, and the Jotform completion time, messaging and deadline.’

    *‘A sense of haste was evident in respect of the consultation.’

     *The letter from Bishop Jill (dated 4 April 2022) which states that the consultation form “only takes five minutes to prayerfully complete” ‘risks trivialising the input.’

    *‘Communications had not been particularly effective in generating awareness or understanding of the [consultation] process.’

    *‘The [consultation] forms did not include a direct question eliciting views on the future bishop’s position on the ordination of women.’

    *‘I recommend consideration of a minimum consultation timescale for the statement of needs as this would have been helpful in allaying time anxiety in this case and could be similarly helpful more generally.’

    • In response to concerns about Bishop Jill having a conflict of interest in chairing the Vacancy in See Committee (she was a colleague of Bishop Philip and known to be supportive of his candidacy; clergy in the diocese could have felt under duress not to oppose her or Bishop Philip):

     *‘The principle of who chairs the Vacancy in See committee would benefit from review in light of the potential conflicts of interest which have been identified here.’

    *‘My conversations leave me in little doubt that the presence of a person who is, in effect, line manager of ordained and some lay attendees and who has an interest in the appointment process because the new bishop will have authority over them, will probably stifle open contribution from those individuals and does not make for a “safe space”.’

    • In response to concerns about the consultation process not asking specifically whether the next bishop should be someone who will or will not ordain women:

    *[It] ‘should be considered – how to ensure there is a conversation in the diocese, not just in the Vacancy in See Committee, to ascertain whether the diocese would welcome a bishop who will ordain women or one who will not.’

    *‘A question for further consideration… is whether dioceses should explain the rationale behind their decision not to express a view [as to whether the next diocesan bishop should be someone who will or will not ordain women].’

    • In response to concerns about appointing diocesan bishops who do not ordain women, without the Church of England having implemented the recommendations of the Independent Reviewer following his review of the nomination to the See of Sheffield (the Sheffield Report) and recommendations of the Implementation and Dialogue group (IDG):

    *‘I recommend that resource is identified to take the necessary theological work forward alongside the theological reflection requested in the report of the IDG.’

    *‘It would not be unreasonable to expect that some review mechanism should be available to those whose ministry the bishop does not accept. Such a mechanism should not isolate female clergy from the life of the diocese but should provide for them in a reciprocal manner to the review arrangements already articulated in the Declaration.’

    Overall, Swinson’s report is gently excoriating.  She affirms that the process for the Bishop of Blackburn’s appointment, while flawed, was in line with regulations.  She also affirms Mawer’s observation and concern that the Declaration and role of the Independent Reviewer are one-sided and there is nowhere for women to go within the Church of England with their concerns and grievances relating to the Declaration.  While she says that pragmatically she does not support a moratorium on the Church of England continuing to appoint more diocesan bishops who are do not ordain women, work needs to be done to understand the consequences of this policy.

    She states that the Church of England is not required to consult with campaign groups like WATCH about the arrangements it makes for the ministries of women. But, unfortunately, she includes NADAWM as also being unnecessary for consultation. NADAWM is the National Association of Deans of Women’s Ministry and exists to communicate between female clergy and bishops about the lived experience of women in ministry. They are not a campaign group. We feel, therefore, that a further recommendation should be made that NADAWM is consulted in the process of implementing the recommendations of Swinson’s important and considered report.

    The matters raised are not abstract theological arguments but impact on the lives of women in both ordained and lay ministry. The continued unfairness in the Church of England creates an unjust and unsafe environment for the many women who continue to work so hard and graciously in all our dioceses.