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Category: General Synod

  • An End to an Injustice: And the Start of a Campaign

    by Sorrel Shamel-Wood, Curate in the Diocese of Oxford

    This morning, Wednesday 6th July 2022, I presided at the altar for the first time. It was at the Church of St Mary and St Berin, Berinsfield – a 1962 daughter church of Dorchester Abbey – and, from my vantage point facing east*, it felt like heaven was breaking through. There were nineteen of us in attendance.

    In some ways, it felt very special and remarkable: after all, it was my first time in this privileged position, and of course women could not be ordained in the Church of England until I was seven years old, so it’s never something I’ve taken for granted. But in a different sense, it felt very normal: the midweek Wednesday eucharist is a staple part of the worshipping life of our team, and has been forever. Many priests have stood and celebrated behind that altar in the past sixty years and, down the road at Dorchester Abbey, they have done so for the past fourteen hundred. I pray they will continue to do so for many centuries after I have left.

    Readers of this blog will know that I almost didn’t get priested at all. In February, I wrote an article for Via Media detailing how my priesting was delayed because my husband had previously been married to someone else. Many ordinands are affected by the Canon C4 regulations (the rule that a faculty has to be granted in order for a person to be ordained who has remarried following a divorce, or whose spouse has remarried following a divorce). Our case was particularly nonsensical, though, because my husband is the one who was previously married to someone else, but he was already a priest when we married so could happily preside at the altar without any ramifications. The story was also reported by the Church Times. It gained attention from some significant people, and many people who read it were outraged and perplexed by the situation.

    Then, on February 16th this year, there was good news. I was in the early stages of labour when my bishop rang, but I didn’t mention this to him because I knew what the conversation was about and I didn’t want it to be delayed a moment longer. He was excited to tell me that the archbishops had agreed in principle to grant an exception to the three-year rule regarding Canon C4 faculties and, all being well and with the wind behind us, I should be able to be ordained at Petertide. I try not to over-interpret the coincidences that take place in the world around us, but it did feel to me that there was something meaningful in the fact that my baby and the good news about my priesting came at the same time.

    It’s difficult to express how thankful I am that I have now been ordained priest. But it has been a frustrating, bewildering and at times overwhelming experience. For a start, people who don’t even know my husband know that he was previously married to someone else, which is something deeply personal and difficult for him, despite the circumstances being relatively amicable and straightforward. We even had trolls who don’t believe in divorce attacking us on social media, being horrible about our wedding photos and my wedding dress.

    I’m not naturally a campaigner or change-maker in personality, and yet I found myself campaigning for changes to the faculty rules. (And if you are a member of General Synod who is reading this, do please support Revd Mark Bennet’s private members bill to revoke the Canon C4 regulation altogether). All this has caused me to realise that, if I’m capable of campaigning for a relatively small injustice that affects me personally, I can and must campaign on behalf of those who suffer infinitely worse injustices than we have experienced, and perhaps this is a new aspect of my calling that I hadn’t really anticipated.

    In a weird, microcosmic corner of social media we found ourselves in the spotlight for a moment and, if I’m entirely honest, I can see how that sort of thing could become quite addictive. It catered to the vainer, more superficial aspects of my personality which many priests have, and which women tend to be castigated for far more than their male colleagues, and which I’m not keen to encourage in myself because they distract from our real purpose of pointing people to Christ.

    So I am very happy to be at the end of this strange, frustrating journey. It has been painful at times, but also filled with encounters with good people and much grace. But of course, this is only the beginning of what I hope will be many decades of serving the Church, God’s world and God’s people. As I prepared for priesting, I was repeatedly struck by the words which the Lord once spoke to St Francis, “Francis, rebuild my church! It has fallen into ruin”. This morning, as we got the church ready for the service, the organist opened a window and the entire window frame fell out. We don’t really have the money to repair it. But spiritually, of course, as well as practically, the Church is facing huge challenges in our generation. There is a riding tide of secularisation to grapple with. A gospel that needs to be proclaimed afresh in a rapidly changing world. There are injustices to fight, within and without the church. There are broken people that yearn for God’s healing and lonely, hurting, lost people desperate to know God’s love. It is now that the real work begins.

     

     

    * The layout of the church was reversed at some point in its history during renovations, so the altar is next to the font where the entrance used to be.

     

     

  • Gatecrashing God’s Party: Parish Ministry Today

    by Jo Stobart, a parish priest in South Somerset. Along with fellow parish priest Claire Lording, she is standing as a ‘pair’ for election to the Crown Nominations Commission

     

    I was recently asked, ‘What has changed about your calling since you embarked on exploring a vocation to ordained ministry?’ It’s a question I found myself reflecting on again as I sat in Taunton Minster last weekend, watching our benefice’s curate being ordained priest. It’s almost five years since I made those vows myself. Although in ministerial terms that’s a blink of an eye, now seems a significant moment to pause and ponder the answer I gave to my original questioner.

    My first response was that I could never have predicted just how much I would love this role. If Buechner’s oft-quoted ‘The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet’ is true, then I am blessed to find myself at that sweet spot of intersection. I serve as Vicar in places that, alongside Fr Alex Frost’s parish, do a pretty good job of representing the breadth of the Church of England. Ilminster is a small market town in South Somerset and Whitelackington an outlying village.

    The Minster sits right at the heart of the town and generations of families are connected to the building by baptisms, weddings and funerals. The church still has a recognised place in the life of the town. Most of the children attend the Church of England First School and civic events regularly find expression through a church service. I’m often greeted in the main street with ‘Morning Vicar’. Parish ministry here looks remarkably ‘traditional’.

    But traditions change too. On the list of vicars in our Lady Chapel, dating back to the Norman Conquest, I’m the first woman incumbent. I’m still asked tentative questions about how I should be addressed (‘Jo? But Vicar’s fine too.’). People here would instinctively tick a ‘Church of England’ box on a form, but this connection now usually relies on the regular attendance of a parent or, more often, a grandparent. The story of Christianity is one that’s remembered as an echo through the generations.

    What this means is that doing the work of a parish priest doesn’t need to be ground-breaking to be innovative or ‘fresh’. Each day brings the opportunity to share our faith, potentially for the first time with that person, and Mary Lennox-like to open together the overgrown door of The Secret Garden. As well as sharing faith in traditional ways, as so many parishes up and down the country are doing so faithfully, we are blessed to have pioneers working on the margins. There are voices calling us to work alongside those of good will in the community on green issues, or the refugee crisis. Our churches, alongside other Christian communities here, run the town’s food bank.

    And at the heart of it all there’s the worship we offer to God. Sunday by Sunday we celebrate the Eucharist – when the mystery of God’s love in Christ is made present to us – and listen to Scripture – discerning words of hope that are for all people.

    I love being a parish priest.

    But my answer to that original question contained a second part, which on the face of it was more ambivalent. I said, ‘I’m less patient.’ While five years ago I had some sense of the way in which the Church of England might need to change, I didn’t feel the same urgency I do now. I’m not from a Christian family but as a child the Church of England nurtured my faith and, for all its flaws, is my home. I have worshipped across the breadth of our denomination and, whilst some of that breadth I find personally challenging, I remain committed to finding a way for our whole church to flourish. As one we should be sharing the joy of the Good News.

    Given half a chance, I’d spend all day reading a novel because stories give me life. So it won’t come as a surprise that my faith is profoundly shaped by the stories we encounter in Scripture – especially the parables that Jesus told. In those parables two themes particularly shape my life as a follower of Christ, and then as a priest.

    First, the faithfulness that God requires of us. The sowing of the seed with no sense of what the return will be. And second, the generosity and hospitality of the God we worship – a God who bids us welcome. It’s a picture of abundance, but in my day-to-day life too often I’m forced to see things through a lens of scarcity. Post-pandemic, the volunteers we don’t have, the funds we can’t find, the stipendiary ministry roles we need to reduce, the scale of the need we are facing in our community and the struggle to keep pace with that. Sometimes it’s hard to remember we’re serving a God who invites us to a party.

    I long for our church to recapture that vision of a party so good you want to bring all your friends along as well, the festival you’d climb the fences to get into. And perhaps that last Glastonbury-based allusion is the root cause of my impatience. We’ve been invited to the best headline act ever and yet we’ve built high fences all round it to keep others out. Whereas God goes out on to the streets to welcome everyone in, we’ve too often been a church that serves only the people who look and think like ‘us’.

    My sense is that those of us who might describe ourselves as either ‘Inclusive’ or ‘liberal’ can sometimes be perceived as lukewarm in our longing to make Christ known. Of course this isn’t true, but I think those of us who hold those perspectives need to tell in a compelling way the story of a God whose arms are open wide to all. A God whose invitations to the party are surprising and unsettling to the older brothers of the world. A God who delights in and loves each and every one of us.

    Five years on from ordination to the priesthood, I’m impatient for a church that tells that amazing story with one voice.

  • “Sickened by our own Magnanimity?”:   Good Disagreement, Bad Ecclesiology

    by Prof Helen King, Professor Emerita in Classical Studies at The Open University and member of General Synod

    As Living in Love and Faith moves towards its conclusion, are we heading for a typically Anglican situation in which everyone has to compromise: and nobody gets what they want? How will that feel?

    In the Introduction to a collection of essays she edited in 1998, Act of Synod – Act of Folly?, the late Monica Furlong told of a priest – a woman – who was asked by a Diocesan Director of Ordinands not to lay hands on one of the candidates at an ordination which she was attending. “Couched in terms of Christian charity and sweet reasonableness, this request that she must not touch the candidate was difficult to refuse, yet left a nasty taste behind it. My friend agreed, but says ‘I was sickened by my own magnanimity’”.

    There is indeed something physically sickening about being the one who has to say “Yes of course, that’s fine” when it’s your own gender identity – or your own sexuality – which is being rejected. The ordination of women as priests, and then their consecration as bishops, divided the Church of England. As with current debates about same-sex marriage, the depth and seriousness of the disagreement was acknowledged. As with same-sex marriage, no simple Bible verse could be located to back up women priests or bishops. Instead, the House of Bishops argued that women bishops represent “a proper development in proclaiming afresh in this generation the grace and truth of Christ”.

    Nausea may be positive: a natural part of the beginning of a pregnancy. Maybe the time has come to admit to nausea, while asking whether further waves of it are inevitable as Living in Love and Faith moves into its next phase. Here, as in many other ways, it’s so instructive to look at how the Church of England dealt with disagreement when women were ordained. When Synod passed by the required two-thirds majority the 1992 motion opening the priesthood to women, some male priests took the ‘compensation’ package built into the legislation. That cost the church around £27.5 million: I really can’t see that sort of arrangement happening again. And laity who did not accept women priests? For them, provision was initially made by enabling parishes to pass Resolutions A (women presiding at Holy Communion or giving the absolution) and/or B (women as incumbents, priests-in-charge or team vicars; the ‘headship’ roles). Since 2016, Parochial Church Councils can pass a Resolution placing them under the authority of a bishop who will not ordain women.

    Some potential priests who stayed were worried about having a valid line of ordination; had anybody laying hands on them ever ‘laid hands’ on a woman? (This has a very specific meaning in an episcopal church…) This could be seen as ignoring Article 26 of the Thirty-Nine Articles; the understanding that the unworthiness of the minister does not hinder the efficacy of the sacrament. Or is being a woman the sort of ‘unworthiness’ which is beyond the pale?

    After Synod passed the 1992 motion, the Ecclesiastical Committee of Parliament brought direct pressure on the Church of England to provide even greater ‘protection’ to opponents as the price tag for its approval. In contrast to the lengthy process of consultation of diocesan and deanery synods which preceded the ordination of women, in less than a year the House of Bishops cooked up the 1993 Act of Synod, adding in something that was not part of the original legislative package, Provincial Episcopal Visitors (PEVs or ‘Flying bishops’). And it was not sent out for wider church consultation.

    The Church of England likes the principle of doing something new by presenting it as something old. So Beverley, a PEV for traditional catholic Anglicans, was imagined as continuing a suffragan see (originally created to help the Archbishop of York) which had lapsed in 1923. The other two, Ebbsfleet and Richborough, were newly created for the PEVs.  Creating sees is possible at any time by Order in Council. In 2015, a further PEV was appointed, this time for conservative evangelicals: the Bishop of Maidstone. His role is presented as an ‘honorary assistant bishop’ in – gasp – 14 dioceses (2019 figures); the other PEVs, too, work over a number of dioceses, thus breaking the link between a bishop and a geographical area which used to be key to our ecclesiology. So much for the bishop as a ‘focus of unity’.

    After the recent resignation of the Bishop of Ebbsfleet – now a priest in the Roman Catholic church – there is a consultation happening about replacing Ebbsfleet with a Bishop of Oswestry (a see created in 1888 but never filled) who would be a suffragan bishop in the Diocese of Lichfield, “rooted in an individual diocese and diocesan college of bishops” rather than floating free.

    For many people in the Church of England, of course, none of this is relevant. They belong to a local church and they have no idea what a PEV is. From my experience, I would add that they also have little idea that same-sex marriages can’t happen in churches, that clergy are not supposed to have same-sex marriages, and that different dioceses operate different policies with regard to the sexuality and relationships of candidates for both licensed lay and ordained ministry.

    Where women’s ordained ministry is concerned, the ecclesiology and the key documents of the Church of England have been treated with disdain, or constructively stretched, according to your point of view. The 2014 Five Guiding Principles from the House of Bishops attempt to hold it all in a dizzying tension: “the Church of England has reached a clear decision on the matter” yet at the same time those who on theological grounds “are unable to receive the ministry of women bishops or priests continue to be within the spectrum of teaching and tradition of the Anglican Communion”. That echoes the 2008 GS1710 Illustrative Draft Code of Practice, on those who refuse the ordained ministry of women as priests and bishops: “Their convictions are within the spectrum of Anglican teaching and tradition and are deserving of respect”.

    Spectrum is an interesting word. Many of us believe that gender and sexuality are also on their own spectrums. So is there a way that, on the current issues of marriage and ordination, we can repurpose those words from GS1710? In a 2018 study guide to the Five Guiding Principles, the Faith and Order Commission stated that “those opposed to the ordination of women should not characterize those in favour as caving in to the fashions of the age, and nor should those in favour stigmatise those opposed as supporters of discrimination and injustice”. Relevant to debates on sexuality, too?

    And from that same study guide:

    It does not require suspending my judgment that some theological views are wrong, or that some views that are wrong may be actively harmful. It does require that I do not take it upon myself to limit that perceived harm by seeking to restrict the participation of those who hold such views in the common life of our church… It may be tempting for the majority to think that, were the minority to leave or disappear, the ‘problem’ posed by their existence would be resolved and all the energy unfortunately required to manage it be liberated for more productive endeavours. It may be tempting for the minority to think that the more they can separate themselves from the majority and insulate themselves from its influence, the more secure their survival will be.

    Can this template from the ordination of women debates be applied to the current debate on human sexuality, or is the nausea – on both sides – just too much to bear?

     

    Further reading:

    Judith Maltby, ‘One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism, but Two Integrities?’ in Monica Furlong (ed.), Act of Synod – Act of Folly (SCM Press, 1998)

    Judith Maltby, ‘Gender and Establishment: Parliament, “Erastianism” and the Ordination of Women 1993-2010’ in Mark Chapman, Judith Maltby and William Whyte (eds), The Established Church. Past, Present and Future (Continuum, 2011)

     

     

     

     

  • Women Bishops: The Legacy of Baroness Howe of Idlicote (8 February 1932-22 March 2022)

    by April Alexander, member of General Synod 2000-2021; Church Commissioner 2008-2018; member of Crown Nominations Commission 2013-2018

     

    Obituaries to Lady Howe saluted her well-known feminism, but few mentioned her Anglicanism.  For those of us who have worked for the ordination of women, however, Elspeth Howe is remembered with love and gratitude because, as a vice-president of WATCH (Women and the Church), she voiced in the House of Lords our joys and fears over the Bishops and Priests (Consecration and Ordination of Women) Measure (2014) and the Lords Spiritual (Women) Act 2015.

    It is timely to look again at those joys and fears to see whether they have been realised.

    After the failure in the House of Laity in General Synod of the original 2012 Measure to allow women to be consecrated as bishops, in 2014 there was a determination not to allow the new and revised Measure to stumble at any point. It was Elspeth Howe who nevertheless asked further questions which forced the Archbishop of Canterbury (in 2013, Rowan Williams had been succeeded by Justin Welby) to address the rather embarrassing truth that discrimination against women would survive despite the indications to the contrary; indeed, such discrimination is actually embedded in the 2014 legislation and Guidance.

    To this day, parishes who want to may request from their Diocesan bishop – whether female or male – the episcopal oversight of an alternative bishop who will ‘protect’ the parish from ever having an ‘unacceptable’ Diocesan. In her speech to the House of Lords on 14 October 2014, Lady Howe asked whether the reverse would be the case. She pointed out that there were already parishes with a woman priest serving under a bishop who did not recognise her orders, and asked whether such a parish would be able to request the oversight of an inclusive bishop. The truthful answer would have been a plain ‘No’, as we have seen during the years since, but it was a fudge.

    Lady Howe also asked for reassurance that, despite all-encompassing nature of Clause 2 of the Measure, it was only the protected characteristic of gender from the Equality Act 2010 which would be overridden and not those characteristics relating to sexuality, marital status and so on. The Archbishop of Canterbury replied:

    As a matter of policy, the House of Bishops has advised that those in parochial appointments should act as though the [Equality] Act applied [to all protected characteristics other than gender]. This change is not a cloak for discrimination on sexuality, marital status, marital history or, for that matter, age (Hansard October 2014).

    This is also the answer I had been given in General Synod in July 2014 by the Chief Legal Adviser to the General Synod.  However, by the time she died, Lady Howe would have been forgiven for wondering why the debate on sexuality rumbles on, eight years after such a clear assurance, given in the House of Lords, by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

    Four months later, in February 2015, Baroness Howe spoke in the debate on the Lords Spiritual (Women) Bill which should have enabled new women bishops to ‘leapfrog’ over their male colleagues in being appointed to the Lords. In the event, of course, there have never been enough women to fill the places, and the provision lapses in 2025. She said:

    Given the great pleasure of seeing the first female bishop consecrated in the Church of England recently, it was sad to see that within a week the underlying divisions within the Church of England had begun to emerge once again…In October last year I asked the most reverend Primate the Archbishop of Canterbury in this House whether archbishops would continue to consecrate all bishops in their respective Provinces. From his response and further debate in the other place I understood

    ‘that in the normal course of events, archbishops will consecrate all bishops but … there will be circumstances when an archbishop is ill or overseas’ (Commons 20/10/14; col 724).

    Then, he might delegate.

    Yet only one week after the most reverend Primate the Archbishop of York (John Sentamu) had consecrated the first female bishop through the laying on of hands, he chose not to put his hands on the new Bishop of Burnley, although he was present at the time. He invited, as noble Lords will know, other bishops who were ‘acceptable’ to the new bishop to lay on hands in his place. There were only three such bishops. Thus, the contrast between the two services in that sense could not have been greater.

    This is still an important matter…. The archbishops [later] issued a statement that they would take each consecration on a case-by-case basis. Put simply, there are those in the Church of England who hold that once a bishop has laid hands on a female priest in ordination or on a female bishop in consecration he is no longer acceptable to consecrate members of the self-styled ‘traditional Catholic’ wing of the church. This is a notion of ‘taint’, however it is described by those who propose it.

    We should not forget that it has been a source of anguish among all women in the Church since alternative arrangements were introduced for ordination under the Act of Synod 1993.

    Readers should be aware that that the assurance quoted here by Lady Howe did not survive the passage of time. Citing not just the pandemic, but also ‘awareness of the sad reality that not all in the Church of England agree on issues of ordination’, the Archbishops issued another statement five years later on 20 July 2020. Rather than consecrating all bishops, they stated,

    We have agreed that the Metropolitan will normally ask another bishop to be the chief consecrator…From now on the Archbishops will ask three bishops to lay on hands with other bishops present and associating with the ordination but not in fact laying on their hands.

    From re-reading these debates, it is clear that assurances given even in the House of Lords, and even by the Archbishop of Canterbury, can turn out to be less than durable.

    What is also crystal clear is that Elspeth Howe had just the words to express the frustration and disappointment of the vast majority of women who had worked so hard for this legislation but who had no voice of their own in the legislature.

    May she rest in peace.

  • Living in Love and Faith: The Ozanne Foundation Responds

    Organisations as well as individuals have been invited to share their response to the LLF course, materials and process by 30 April 2022.

    Here is the response of the Ozanne Foundation.

    We write to share our thoughts and reflections on the LLF process and our hopes for the “next steps”.

    1. Overview of LLF

    Whilst we recognise that the LLF was originally conceived as a “necessary step” towards a more inclusive and just Church of England, we question whether the time and money that has been invested in it has been worth the significant harm that it has caused.  This is not least because of the time that it has taken – indeed it is now over five years since the archbishops promised a “radical new Christian inclusion”, a promise that had originally brought hope to so many and yet has now faded to become yet another example of “words not action” for the LGBT+ community.

    It is therefore of no surprise that during the intervening years – where open debate has been stymied within the General Synod and discussions around LLF have been heavily managed – that positions on both sides have hardened.  Sadly, as always, those this has impacted the most are the LGBT+ community, particularly those growing up in certain conservative settings.  Same-sex relationships are still not recognised, our LGBT+ priests are still asked to sign “Issues”, our LGBT+ youth are still taught that they must deny themselves any physical intimacy for life, even if it is lawfully recognised – severely impacting their mental health.  There continues to be no admission of the harm that conservative theology can inflict on those in their “care” and, perhaps most worryingly, there has been little desire by bishops to challenge or chastise those who inflict such harm, allowing them to continue their practices with impunity.  This can be evidenced by the various public letters that many conservatives have signed stating their desire to continue to practice “conversion therapy” and the increasingly hostile rhetoric towards trans people.  Conservative networks and many conservative churches and individuals continue to threaten schism and to withdraw funding, holding their dioceses to ransom.  Meanwhile LGBT+ people, their friends and families have continued to leave quietly – dismayed and disheartened by the lack of any real or meaningful progress.  What is more, we see no evidence that the national conservative networks have engaged with LLF.  Instead, they have publicly promoted the use of their own materials, including the “A Beautiful Story” video, to shore up their positions and underline their homophobic/transphobic doctrine.

    What is most worrying are the stories that we have heard from those LGBT+ church goers who were brave enough to take part in the LLF discussions.  Few found them safe spaces, and most wished afterwards that they had not taken part – even senior LGBT+ clergy.  The Church of England’s “good disagreement” strategy serves only, it seems, its heterosexual cisgendered members, with little thought for those who are most affected by these discussions.  Despite repeated calls to avoid giving equal weight to views on either “side” of the “debate”, given the significant power imbalance that exist and the clear evidence of harm that one side inflicts on the other, the Church of England has continued to push a strategy of “balance”.  In so doing it has lost the trust and respect of a large section of the general public, who look with incredulity at the way the LGBT+ community continue to be treated by a religious organisation whose central message is meant to be that of love and justice.  We are seen, rightly, as hypocrites!

    1. What Next?

    We recognise that we sadly cannot undo the damage that has been done, but we can – we hope – ensure that the next step is one that will lead to concrete decisions, actions and equality.  We cannot continue to objectify and problematise LGBT+ lives, for this has gone on long enough.

    It is clear to most that the only possible way forward is to allow some form of accommodation for those who wish to recognise LGBT+ faithful loving relationships.  This step is now well overdue.  We are well beyond creating a “middle ground” of sanctioning “just” blessings and must now move without delay to a Church that offers marriage to all living in England.  We already have a proven model for accommodating this while respecting individual consciences with the way we have managed marriage after divorce.

    At the same time, however, we are deeply concerned about the continued abuse of LGBT+ people, particularly young LGBT+ people within conservative churches, and the homophobic teaching that they are made to endure, which leads to self-hatred, shame and internalised homophobia – let alone rejection and alienation from their families and friends.  Research shows that this has a significant and lifelong impact on their mental wellbeing and can lead many to consider or indeed to attempt to take their lives.  This spiritual abuse must stop.  For too long the Church of England has turned a blind eye to this abuse and have let the brave testimonies of those who have spoken out go unheeded and unheard.  This lack of resolve to tackle the damage done by conservative theology is deeply inconsistent with the Church’s developing understanding and practice of the importance of safeguarding for vulnerable people and continues to make the Church of England vulnerable to the charge of complicity in abuse.  We therefore urge the Church of England to move swiftly to adopt the Global Interfaith Commission on LGBT+ Lives’ “Safeguarding Principles to Protect LGBT+ Lives” agreed in March 2022 at a conference sponsored by the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office.

    We hope that you will find these reflections useful and await with interest the publication of a set of proposals from the House of Bishops regarding the way forward, for action is now long overdue.

    Yours sincerely

    Very Revd Joe Hawes, Chair, Ozanne Foundation

    Jayne Ozanne, Director, Ozanne Foundation

    April 27th 2022

  • All Change: What Next for Living in Love and Faith?

    by Scot Peterson, Lecturer, Corpus Christi College, Oxford; Scot’s research focuses on issues of constitutional history, including particularly the relationship between religion and the state

    Now that Eastertide has commenced, Living in Love and Faith approaches the end of its initial stage, and a decision about church policy has become inevitable. The outcome will be a policy with widespread impact. The Church of England’s leaders have sheltered behind an invalid understanding of marriage as an unchanging institution and have resisted change through a sequence of conversations and study groups. But change is coming.

    The Debate over Same-Sex Marriage

    In 2013 my co-author Iain McLean and I published a book intended to inform a broader debate about same-sex marriage. In it, we argued that marriage is a legal institution that structures human relationships, allowing, for example, the partners to inherit without a will. It is also a religious institution (considered a sacrament by some), which has historically involved more or less consent by women. Its religious aspect has sometimes treated spouses equally but has also at times treated women as subordinate to men, even to the extent that they became property. Despite arguments to the contrary, over its centuries of development marriage has never been a fixed relationship or a static institution, and it continues to change.

    The broader discussion about same-sex civil marriage, which we wanted to address, began with a ‘listening exercise’ by the coalition government in 2010. Then, in March 2012, the Home Secretary (Theresa May) and the Minister for Equality (Lynne Featherstone) launched a twelve-week consultation about how (not whether) to afford same-sex couples access to civil marriage. The government issued its response to the consultation in December of that year, and parliament enacted legislation on 17 July 2013. The first same-sex marriages took place in March 2014.

    Church and State

    In the 2012 consultation the government responded to the Church of England’s argument that by permitting same-sex civil marriage the government would weaken the religious establishment.?A change in who could be married for civil purposes would, the church claimed, complicate the meaning of marriage (which it claimed had been fixed for centuries). The Church of England was also somewhat misleading in arguing it had supported civil partnerships, when in fact most bishops had opposed them even when they were celebrated by members of other religious denominations. In response to the church’s objections to same-sex marriage, the government imposed a quadruple lock: (1) ensuring that no minister or religious organization would be required to perform or recognize same-sex marriages; (2) requiring religious organizations to affirmatively seek authorization to solemnize such marriages; (3) barring discrimination claims against religions or individuals who refused to perform such marriages; and (4) making a change in the Church of England’s canons, which must be initiated by the church, a prerequisite for any change in church practice. The quadruple lock remains in place: only the church can change it, and it puts the church firmly outside the centre of the legal marriage regime, as one participant in a broader process, rather than as the one defining it.

    The current consultative process in the Church of England on these matters, Living in Love and Faith, follows a series of Shared Conversations launched at the time of the first same-sex weddings in 2014. After the Shared Conversations, which lasted for two years, Synod rejected  a report recommending that the church not re-visit its position on same-sex marriage (the House of Clergy voting against, 100-93). In response, the bishops appointed another study group, which developed a curriculum of podcasts, training materials, videos and even a book, to encourage conversation on the issues of marriage, faith and sexuality in an even-handed way. The curriculum was released in November 2020 (during the pandemic). Groups have been meeting, including virtually, to discuss those materials, and feedback from participants is due to close at the end of April. Further reflection will take place, with the House of Bishops (once again) offering options on how to proceed at General Synod in February 2023, nine years after the first Shared Conversations launched.

    Choosing Policy

    A decision has become inevitable, and the outcome will be public policy. It will not necessarily affect all of the public, but the Church of England, as the established church in England, retains special status in matters such as baptisms, funerals, and marriages. Political science distinguishes between ways of making these kinds of ‘political’ decisions.

    One way is not to decide at all: to leave a matter to the market or to individual preferences. We call this spontaneous ordering. Not deciding is not an option in the current process; however, because the quadruple lock remains in place, even this is a decision. A second way of making decisions is through consensus. The UK cabinet makes decisions in this way, with a full discussion, after which all members come to agreement. This happens after a prime ministerial ‘summing up,’ in which he or she articulates the sense of the meeting. (Arm-twisting may be involved.) So far arm-twisting has not worked in this matter. Finally, there is voting, which always fails to seamlessly aggregate preferences and which necessarily leads to one side feeling it is the loser, perhaps quite acutely.

    Living in Love and Faith seems aimed at achieving some form of consensus. This is highly unlikely given the response rates that are currently available, and the intensity of preferences on both sides, which can lead to unrepresentative results (in both directions!). Moreover, the pandemic has made it possible for the losing side to claim it was unfairly disadvantaged. However, spontaneous ordering remains an option. While it is a temptation for the central church to decide important questions like these, local congregations may be better placed to understand the nuances of their members’ preferences. Indeed, the Living in Love and Faith conversations may have greatly improved that understanding, irrespective of the responses. Thus, the best option may be for the church to allow variation among congregations, with many not performing same-sex wedding celebrations but with others doing so, when their members, clergy and PCC agree. In this way the church may preserve unity by allowing for diversity of belief within the structure of the national church.

  • No Sex, Please? Remembering the Higton Debate

    by Terry Louden, Hon. Canon of Portsmouth and of Cape Coast, Ghana; member of General Synod, 1985-90; Permission to Officiate, Diocese of Portsmouth, where he has served in parochial ministry since ordination in 1975

    The Church of England has a long history of pronouncing on sex. Back at the November 1987 group of sessions of General Synod, the Revd. Tony Higton, then a parish priest in Essex, moved a Private Members’ Motion about sexual morality. The motion’s prime purpose was to condemn homosexuality in general; as Higton’s own speech made clear, the particular individuals he wished to target were gay clergy and ordinands and their ‘immoral practices’. The motion, amended substantially by the Rt. Revd. Michael Baughen, Bishop of Chester, was passed overwhelmingly. I was a member of Synod at the time and spoke to an amendment in my name. More on that later. First, some context.

    In 1987, Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister, and had just won her third General Election. Her moral compass rarely veered from the conservative. HIV/AIDS was still prevalent, as was the accusation of a ‘gay disease’. Section 28 of the Local Government Act, which made illegal the promotion in schools of a gay lifestyle, was under discussion, and became law in 1988. The association of homosexuality with paedophilia was still being made, especially by the tabloid press, as was the charge that homosexuals were naturally promiscuous. So at Higton’s instigation, and in full view of the media, the Church of England was playing out a national debate. As Higton said in the debate: ‘The eyes of the world are on us today’.

    Through its senior bishops, the Church had generally supported the efforts to decriminalise sex between consenting men, which was secured in the 1967 Sexual Offences Act. This prompted a growing debate within the Church about sexual morality and particularly the welcome (or the lack of it) the Church should offer to gay people. The 1979 report, Homosexual Relationships (the ‘Gloucester Report’), was prepared for General Synod but was seen as too liberal and was widely ignored.

    In 1986, the House of Bishops commissioned another report (the ‘Osborne Report’) which, for the first time, considered the views of gay people. It was very unfortunate that the work of the Osborne committee was trumped by the Higton debate. While Osborne reported to the House of Bishops in 1989, that report was suppressed until 2012. However, the Osborne group’s working methods can be seen in the current LLF process.

    The Baughen amendment, like Higton’s original wording, asserted that the biblical standard for sexual intercourse is in the context of a permanent married (i.e. heterosexual) relationship; that fornication, adultery and homosexual genital acts fall short of this ideal; and that holiness of life, especially in the sphere of sexual morality, is required of Christian leaders. But it was more temperate in its wording, omitting Higton’s call for clergy falling short of the ideal not to be appointed or to be removed from office.

    There was the air of a witch-hunt around at the time.

    Thirteen members of Synod made substantial contributions, including the Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie; the Bishop of London, Graham Leonard; the Bishop of Chichester, Eric Kemp; Bishop Baughen; Dr. Peter Forster, Baughen’s successor at Chester; the Revd. Malcolm Johnson and the actor, Frank Williams. New insights were scarce in the debate. The Bishops of London and Chichester did take an important stand against the persecution of gay clergy, and in his speech, the Archbishop of Canterbury, often accused of indecision, said ‘I want to insist that to be homosexual by nature is to be a full human being, that homosexuals have human rights like the rest of us’.

    I put down and was invited to speak to an amendment in my name. This proposed that Christians should follow the teachings of the Early Fathers, Tertullian, Clement, Cyprian, Jerome and John Chrysostom, who advocated celibacy and virginity as the Christian ideal, because ‘an orderly sex life is inferior to no sex life at all’.

    What was this about? When I was ordained in 1975, after three years at a theological college with a significant number of gay men, I remember my training incumbent, the late Bill Sargent, of blessed memory, saying to me ‘The Church of England is far too interested in what goes on in people’s bedrooms’. What he was criticizing was the prurience of certain parts of the C of E as well as its concern with personal morality at the expense of social and corporate sinfulness. So that was one of the reasons for my obscure amendment – to remind Synod members that there were issues more important than sexual morality.

    Another reason was that by drawing attention to the teaching of the Fathers as part of Tradition based on Scripture, and showing their proposals to be unworkable in practice, I was trying to demonstrate that Scripture and Tradition by themselves cannot provide detailed answers to all modern ethical issues. If we cannot be bound by Tradition, should we be bound by the Scriptures?

    There was little reaction to what I said. I delivered my speech seriously and dead pan. But Synod members in the late 1980s were not known for their sense of humour! What I said was misunderstood and ignored, though not entirely. The late Bernard Levin, a secular Jew with much sympathy for the Church of England, mentioned me in his Times column the following day. And the Sunday Times sent a journalist all the way to the Isle of Wight to interview me and my wife about my supposed advocacy of celibacy.

    Sadly, by the time the journalist had returned to London with his copy and his photos the world had moved on, and the profile was never printed.

     

  • Profile: Burn Out, Exclusion and the Church of England

    by the Revd Canon Valerie Plumb,  Area Dean for Rural Mission and Development in the Diocese of Oxford and elected member of General Synod

    I have spent nearly two years living and working remotely. This has been and remains a challenging situation for all involved in my household. It’s vitally important to make sure that all who are still medically shielding are not forgotten.

    The government is desperately attempting to bring back ‘normal’ but nothing has really changed for the clinically vulnerable community. Now they are living in more fear and with a growing sense that they simply don’t matter any more.

    ‘Shielding’ and what it was all about seems to be fast dropping out of our vocabulary. Society is increasingly divided between mask wearers and non- mask wearers. Being pro and antivax is becoming a hot point for feelings and conversations.

    In reality those who medically shield have no choice. Choosing life over potential death seems a no-brainer.

    We who continue to shield begin to slip into the shadows and learn to live in what feels like a second-class level of existence. My biggest fear is that the church succumbs to the same mindset.

    In November 2021 Archbishop Justin Welby declared in a General Synod inaugural president’s address ‘it’s not Christian to exclude’. It was a powerful address. As an elected member I heard that speech, and the rest of General Synod in the following days, online, but was unable to debate, vote, share in group work or even offer my maiden speech should I be called. This felt an awful lot like being excluded.

    I felt so upset and outraged by the whole experience that I began to question it. This inaugurated months of ping pong correspondence with the Synod’s Business Committee.

    By the February 2022 group of sessions I was delighted to hear that they had become fully hybrid. I was even able to offer my maiden speech. It addressed the importance of ensuring that remote working isn’t considered ‘not good enough’. It went down well.

    I am one of many clergy across the country who are still working remotely. Not all of us have been supported in the same way. My Area Bishop and Archdeacon completely understand my situation. They support and acknowledge the seriousness of my need to shield whilst strongly validating my mission and ministry in these extraordinary circumstances. Others have not been so lucky.

    Some people think that church isn’t proper church unless it’s in a building. Somehow, ministering to each other via zoom isn’t as valid as in person. It’s not the same, but it’s more a case of just being different rather than less. Thank goodness God is still God!

    The pressure on those who continue to work from home remains extremely intense. It has led to some experiencing burnout because of a need to repeatedly validate their work. Even now I still get folks asking me ‘When I am coming back to work?’ Ironically, throughout this whole pandemic I have continued to lead services, chair meetings, train LLM’s, oversee ordinands, participate in discussions, interview people, lead retreats and even attend General Synod. I have been there pastorally for others. This sounds an awful lot like full time work to me!

    During this uncharted time in history we have learnt to travel a new landscape. We must use this opportunity to learn and understand all we can and use that knowledge to prepare for future journeys.

    Some decisions made by the C of E during this pandemic have brought panic and pain to vulnerable people. They have over burdened those trying to make local choices. Now we seek a better and brighter future. Let’s not forget those ones who are not yet able to put it all behind them.

    It’s personal. I suffer from an immunological disorder requiring strong immunosuppressive medication. Shielding has been my only option. Covid 19 could bring a potentially deadly reaction. Even those I live with have had to change their lives accordingly. Last week my God-daughter finally sold her car having she lost her job because of the risk to me.

    This journey has been hard, but it doesn’t feel wasted. I often think of Henri Nouwen’s words ‘Who can take away suffering without entering it? The great illusion of leadership is to think that a man can be led out of the desert by someone who has never been there.’ Deserts can be interesting places to live, but being in them changes you.

    Through all the trials and tribulations I have felt blessed with a constant sense of how precious life really is. Seeing this from the sharp end has encouraged me to live life to the fullest. It has created a purer sense of soul freedom that is beginning to show in my ministry.

    This sudden and deep awareness of humanity’s fragility has allowed me to see how important it is for people to see their priests’ vulnerabilities. It shows they are real and accessible, but most importantly it shows them a God who blesses all people no matter what shape they come in. Churches are as vulnerable as individuals. Archbishop Justin’s November address acknowledged “our failures in safeguarding, in racism and the way we treat those with disabilities.”

    It’s profoundly necessary for the church to recognise and cherish many different coloured sparks of holiness that come from those who bring difference to the holy table.

    I leave the last word to a former Archbishop, Dr. Rowan Williams, who in conversation with me about illness once said ‘Val, I want you to always remember that God never wastes anything, and in your suffering, you will learn new skills and he will direct where and when to use them’ 

    Guess what, he was right. Now let’s acknowledge this as a church!

  • Why I’m ‘Crossing the Severn’…

    by the Revd Andrew Lightbown, former member of General Synod and soon to be Canon Residentiary at Newport Cathedral in the Diocese of Monmouth.

    I am about to leave the Church of England. In fact, I am going to “Cross the Severn” to take up a post in the Church in Wales. I am leaving with a sense of real excitement but also a sense of sadness.

    Leaving the Church of England is proving to be a bitter-sweet experience. I need to make it clear that I am not leaving because I can no longer take the Church of England any more but because of a genuine sense of calling to a particular job, amongst particular people, in a particular place. It is this sense of particularity that has historically always been so important to my understanding of what it means to be a member of the Church of England.

    The Church of England has always been my church. It baptised me, confirmed me, married me (although not in that order) and ordained me. The Church of England has been there for me, and in my family, in good times and in bad, as well as in the so-called ordinary times. I will always be grateful for the ministry of the Church of England.

    The Church of England through the ministry of all the baptised has been kind and compassionate to me. It has held my hand when it needed holding, offered a hanky when the tears have flowed, baked a cake and cooked a lasagna when comfort food has been required, fed me week by week through word and sacrament, raised me up when I have felt low, and brought me down to earth when I have risen above my station. It has done for me what the church has needed to do for me, from a place of love, tolerance, and inclusion. The Church of England has taken this particular Christian seriously, enabling me to take the particularity of the other seriously.

    Sadly, tragically, I feel that the Church of England is losing something of its historic focus on the particularity of people in community. It feels as though the church has become overly anxious, and in its anxiety has become increasingly generic, doctrinal, and stressful. It feels, and I know many out there in C of E land are inherently distrustful of feelings, as though the Church of England has developed a Messiah Complex, in the process forgetting that all that is required of us is to scatter the seed in the faith and hope Kingdom will grow, without us ‘knowing how,’ (Mark 6, 26 -27).

    My other feeling, or perhaps, observation is that the Church of England has become increasingly transactional, where the (bitter) fruits of such transactionality are doctrinal narrowness combined with a love of all things strategic.

    Our doctrinal narrowness, of course, finds its fullest expression in the ongoing discussions around sexuality, where the relentless pursuit of assumed doctrinal purity fails to respect the God given particularity of specific individuals and their right to take their place as full and equal members within the life of the church, which can only be affirmed through the liturgy of the church. There really can be no rights separate from rites. To pretend otherwise, to seek to hide behind generalised and shallow notions of niceness, changes in tone and culture, is to commit liturgical and ecclesial hypocrisy.

    Other churches, our sister churches both within British Anglicanism and the wider reformed tradition, have come to this conclusion, so why is it that the Church of England seems so unwilling to come to similar conclusions? Do we have a superior claim to divergent understandings of scripture, tradition, reason and experience – in other words theology?

    The problem with our strategies, and the strap lines and numbers which seek to animate them, is that they risk becoming so dominant, and domineering, that they again undermine the particular. I think there is a real and significant danger that the obsessive focus on strategy will end up undermining the very things that it seeks to promote: mission, evangelism, and growth in both number and in holiness.

    The Church of England needs to be far more cautious in its use of numbers, for there is a danger that we simply become that which we choose to measure. Then, when that doesn’t work, the result will be more stress, more anxiety, and a self-perpetuating narrative of yet more blame and yet more failure. We need to sit lightly to, perhaps even let go of, magic and mythical numbers, for they serve no useful purpose.

    I am not naïve enough to think that my new church, the Church in Wales, will be problem-free. Of course it won’t, but as I depart, hopefully in peace, my hope and prayer for the Church of England is for a renewed focus on the particular. Particular people, in particular places have particular needs. The church’s strategy should be essentially bottom up, incarnational, inclusive and above all particular. It must trust that the seeds that have been sown will grow, even though we may well ‘know not how.’

    It’s time to let go of the Messiah Complex, transactional and generic strategic models, and the pursuit of doctrinal purity. All of these only serve to increase anxiety, stress, and the exclusion of others from the fold.

     

     

  • Making a Stand: From Kilroy to Synod

    by the Very Revd Joe Hawes, Dean of St Edmundsbury & Ipswich and Member of General Synod

    As a young gay ordination candidate I learnt the contested territory I was about to step into in the Church during a ministry experience scheme a year before my selection and training.

    The year was spent at a cathedral, a wonderful flourishing community where I learned much, made various mistakes and began to understand what ordained ministry might look like. It was 1987 and the infamous ‘Higton debate’ on General Synod was brewing. Like so many others, I experienced the casual homophobia of the tabloid press (remember the Sun article ‘How to spot if you’ve got a Gay Vicar’?) In my case the insecurity came not just from the knowledge that this was about people like me, but also from the proclaimed conservative standpoint of my bishop who was quite clear that questions would be asked of all ordinands whose sexual identities were in question.

    Into this febrile atmosphere came a request for me to join ‘Kilroy’ a daytime live audience show. Not quite Jerry Springer, but populist and opportunist nevertheless. I should have said no at once but the prospect of the lure of the television cameras was just too strong. In discussions with the researcher beforehand I was careful to stress the precariousness of my position, that there could be no question of being outed and that my future would be in question if I was. Solemn assurances were given, and fool that I was, I believed them. Faithfully I did my research about how different factions of the Church of England, represented on the cathedral Chapter, might feel about the vexed question. From the ebullient defiantly liberal Sub Dean (“What’s all the fuss about?”) through to the conservative Anglo Catholic Chaplain (“celibacy would be your only option…if it’s you we are talking about here?”) and on to the gentle, agonised Precentor (“Oh I just wish it would all go away”), I swiftly gained a comprehensive picture of the polarisation of the Church of England. On one thing, however, all were clear: “If, by any chance, any of this is relevant to you, for heaven’s sakes, don’t admit to anything: you are in a highly vulnerable position!” I should have listened harder!

    Came the day, and on the front row I sat – opposite members of LGCM (Lesbian & Gay Christian Movement), theologically conservative vicars and members of General Synod, hoping in vain that that I could escape any  notice. Of course, it was not to be. Perma tanned and implacable, Roger Kilroy-Silk honed in on me half way through the programme, which we had all been warned went out live without editing. “Now we have here today an ordinand, Joe Hawes, who is gay. So, Joe, do you feel at risk that you won’t be ordained?” I still remember the feeling of icy paralysis, knowing my family, my bishop, cathedral staff were all watching, all unaware (or so I thought) of ‘The Truth About Me’.

    Swallowing hard and denying my true nature on daytime television does not come high on the list of my ‘ must be repeated’ life experiences, but it is what I did. Expressions of pity and disbelief on the faces of fellow guests did little to dispel the feelings of guilt, shame, fear and embarrassment which accompanied me as I aimlessly walked the streets, not daring to return to the cathedral, a card from LGCM in my pocket. (“If you ever need to talk, phone us.”)

    I have recalled that day so many times in the intervening years.

    It was followed by a decision to embrace celibacy as I began training for ordination even though I didn’t much want to) – a decision soon set aside as on my first night at Theological College I met the man who would become my life partner. The subsequent years have been quite a journey where I have grown in confidence by his love as well as by good teaching and generous friendships, where I have learned from sound, inclusive and progressive theology that I was loved by God for who I am rather than in spite of who I am; where I have found a voice to try and speak without hatred but with passion about inclusion; found welcome and fellow feeling in generous inclusive parishes; to eventually finding three years ago that a senior appointment in the Church of England really is possible if your bishop is brave and inclusive enough; even if it meant negotiating a storm in a teacup of a certain senior Tory politician’s reaction to my appointment as a Dean (we have subsequently become good friends and I was honoured to conduct the funeral of his wife), until the recent inauguration of General Synod.

    Buoyed up by the good fellowship of LGBTQ members, I stood during the inaugural session of General Synod during Simon Butler’s powerful speech in silent witness to our LGBT sisters and brothers in Ghana who are soon to be in even greater risk of imprisonment and physical danger than they are at present.

    As I stood, I recalled that terrified young ordinand under studio lights in the summer of 1987. If that was how I felt then, then how must it feel to be LGBT+ in Ghana today?

    And as the years rolled back, I forgave myself, got over myself, set my very minor struggle in the context of the real danger faced by those in whom we stood in solidarity, and gave thanks for the liberty I enjoy, the task in which I share with other good people, and prayed the God who has been faithful to me to protect them and change the hearts of their government and Church.