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Category: General Synod

  • General Synod: “Gone Fishing!”

    by Professor Helen King, Professor Emerita in Classical Studies at The Open University, elected member of General Synod and member of Living in Love and Faith project

    I returned from General Synod last week reflecting on the contrast between the message from our management – the senior leadership – and the realities of life for the majority of members not just of Synod, but of the Church of England in general.

    I met many people at tea-breaks and at fringe events and in the hotel over breakfast and drinks: laity, clergy and bishops. These were certainly not all from any progressive ‘bubble’; even if you wanted to hang out with your own tribe, with a Synod of nearly two-thirds new members, you wouldn’t be able to spot who’s who. What struck me most here was how we are not some special group of super-keen super-Christians. I heard many stories of pain, pain suffered in the church in the very recent or more distant past, whether this was from central policies or from particular congregations. I met people who had dropped out of church but had come back. And I found respect, and the beginnings of the trust we will need as we move towards more controversial topics than the Leeds Diocesan Synod motion on the ‘wealth gap’ which kicked off a Synod otherwise more concerned with bringing us all up to speed on the current buzz-phrases.

    Rather like the staple question of university freshers’ week conversations, ‘What A-levels did you do?’, ‘What’s your church like?’ comes up regularly in conversations with other Synod members. Mine is a standard parish church in a market town – electoral roll around 160, attendance at main Sunday service maybe 90 before the pandemic – but one person hearing this was very excited: ‘Ah, an ordinary church – excellent!’ That made the point to me that our experiences of church life can be very different. I wonder how many people on Synod come from parishes which are really struggling? In debates, we naturally tend to hear about success stories, but they don’t reflect many people’s reality.

    In my ordinary church, the level of interest in last week’s meeting of Synod has been pretty much zero. I wasn’t expecting anything else, to be honest; nobody talks about the national church there. Of course, a few friends were curious, as was my vicar. My guest for the Westminster Abbey service which was held last week before Synod was formally ‘inaugurated’, a friend in her first year of ordination training, found it all fascinating, not least – as a choir member – having the experience of singing with 1000 or so people without masks. But generally? Very little interest.

    I don’t find this at all surprising. In the ordinary church, there’s little knowledge of what Synod is, or how it works, let alone of what it does. Many deanery synod members never cast their vote in the elections to Synod. Local concerns are far more relevant than anything else. What happens at national level – whether that’s a statement on poverty or the Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse – passes by largely unobserved.

    What was done last week to make the connection between the national and the local? More than once in these sessions, the Archbishop of Canterbury emphasised the etymology of the word ‘synod’ – the Greek syn-hodos, the road/way together, also a reminder of course that what we call Christianity was once hodos, ‘the way’, and that in John 14:6 Jesus calls himself the hodos: ‘I am the way’ (??? ???? ? ????). The journey image – one which seems to have gained traction every year since I first met it – went on through what both Archbishops said in their joint Presidential Address. ++Stephen stated that we don’t have a map, but we do have a compass: the Holy Spirit. Alongside ‘the way’, we had the image of the nets: ++Justin took as his theme casting our nets on the right side of the boat and ++Stephen ended with the same thought, and on the way reiterated the call to be ‘simpler, humbler and bolder’.

    That’s one of the current buzz-phrases, which I’ve never heard mentioned in my local church. The other one now is ‘mixed ecology’: meaning not just the parish, but chaplaincies too, as well as those 10,000 new churches we are supposed to be creating in the next ten years. I noted how often our leaders took the opportunity to say that we don’t need the ‘Save the Parish’ movement because nobody is threatening the parish; did they protest too much, though? ++Justin assured us that the church is always changing, using as examples the nineteenth-century ‘daughter churches’ for new areas of housing, and women being able to attend churches without wearing hats: nothing too controversial there. ++Stephen called us to survive by adapting.

    As for what change or adaptation may mean, ++Justin used the saying from indigenous Australian people, that they are “walking backwards into the future”. This is supposed to suggest that, while we survive, adapt or change, we take with us our heritage. The phrase reminded me that, in 2014, the Archbishop of York published Walking Backwards to Christmas, telling the familiar Christmas story in reverse, starting with Anna and ending with the prophecies of Moses and Isaiah. It’s a powerful set of meditations. He credited his title to The Goons’ 1956 song, ‘I’m walking backwards for Christmas’. I’m not a fan of The Goons, but I was struck by these words in the song:

    I’ve tried walking sideways,
    And walking to the front,
    But people just look at me,
    And say it’s a publicity stunt.

    The danger of the slogans, I think, is that they look precisely like a publicity stunt. We can say ‘simpler humbler bolder’ as much as we like, but when that’s said shortly after the pomp of a Westminster Abbey service, does it really make an impact?

    And I did wonder about those fishing nets. I know it’s a different sort of fishing, but in lockdown we discovered the wonderful TV series with Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse, Gone Fishing. What they do together is, indeed, fishing, but it’s not about catching the fish, even though there’s great excitement when they do, before they put it back into the river. What it’s really about is the conversation between the two men; their careers, their families, their experience of severe illness and recovery. It’s about life, and death. The several series so far are often described as life-affirming, and we certainly found them so. The two friends come across as totally authentic: real. I have a deep distrust of slogans and ‘programmes’. True relationship, real trust, deep knowledge of each other: those are the qualities which I believe will make a church community, and a Synod, flourish.

     

  • Ghana, Synod & the “Othering” of LGBTQI People

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

    The events of the last week or so have not been good for the Anglican Communion, or for LBGTQI people.

    As readers will doubtless know, the Anglican Church in Ghana has lent its support to – indeed encouraged the passing of – the ‘anti-LGBTQI bill’ that will lead to the imprisonment of LBGTQI people and their supporters, the enforcement of “conversion therapy” and “corrective surgery” for intersex people. The Archbishop of Canterbury – after a rather significant delay – initially released a statement that ‘reminded’ the Ghanaian church of their commitment to oppose the criminalisation of ‘same-sex attracted’ people [sic], whilst not missing an opportunity to mention Lambeth Resolution 1:10, which opposes same-sex relationships and is entirely unbinding on any member church of the communion. Whilst that statement wasn’t much, it was something.

    Yet only a few weeks later, a second statement was released that issued an apology to the Ghanaian church for speaking out about the potential incarceration of LBGTQI people before the Archbishop had spoken to them directly. In that statement, the Archbishop stated that ‘cultural, social and historical contexts must also be considered and understood’. As I have written elsewhere, it is somewhat difficult to imagine which “context” would justify the imprisonment, mutilation and psychological torture of LBGTQI people. It is noticeable that the swathes of bishops who appeared to suddenly become aware of the situation in Ghana the second the first statement was released – and immediately re-Tweeted it – did not do so on this occasion.

    But the saga was not over. At General Synod this week, the announcement was made that “while not condoning same-sex marriage, the Anglican Church in Ghana does not condone the criminalisation of the LGBTQ+ community”. Leaving aside the absence of any need whatsoever to mention same-sex marriage – indeed, we are talking about people being thrown in prison and subjected to medical maltreatment, and not holy matrimony – it is the latter statement that is both fundamental, and fundamentally questionable. There is no evidence, beyond vague reassurances from an English Archbishop, that the Anglican Church of Ghana has changed its position. If it continues to support the ‘anti-LGBTQI bill’, then it continues to call for the imprisonment of LBGTQI people.

    Yet beyond this, what wasn’t said also spoke volumes. Whilst criminalisation was mentioned in the speech, not a word was said about conversion therapy or the enforced surgery spoken of in the bill for intersex people. By mentioning marriage, and ignoring these genuine issues, by the endless references to Lambeth 1:10 and ‘same-sex attraction’, by the utterly baseless conflation of the issue of basic LGBTQI rights and ecclesial relations with ‘those who suffer from the ongoing effects of colonialism’, and in the whole way this has been presented – without evidence, without urgency – it has once again become clear that LGBTQI people are acceptable collateral damage in the diplomacy of the Anglican Communion. At what stage will enough be enough?

    Nobody is calling for the Archbishop of Canterbury to patronisingly tell off the Anglican Church of Ghana, or to swan in as a colonial authority. Yet it is equally patronising – and ultimately colonialist – to talk about culture, history and context when deciding whether to argue strongly against the criminalisation of LGBTQI people. The Archbishop may be an ‘Instrument of Communion’ and a ‘focus of unity’, but this will mean little to Ghanaian LBGTQI people if they are thrown in prison or disfigured. It is entirely possible to make an argument about basic human dignity without adopting the mode of colonial overlord.

    The problem is that, ultimately, we don’t matter.

    For years, I have tried to argue myself out of this position – listening to the voices that say ‘wait’, or ‘patience’, or ‘warm hearts and cool heads’. But it is true – we simply don’t matter. What matters is the propping up of a colonial era structure that is the Anglican Church’s version of the Emperor’s New Clothes. The Communion is broken – it is simply not possible in a post-colonial world to have an Englishman who is both Primate of All England and the ‘focus of unity’ worldwide. It is startlingly obvious, and yet we lack the vision and faith to reimagine the communion for the twenty-first century. And the price we pay is the cheapening of LGBTQI lives.

    The most recent session of General Synod simply emphasised this.  In response to a question, we were told by the Bishop of London that LBGTQI ordinands and clergy don’t have to assent to the document Issues in Human Sexuality, only to ‘live within its guidelines’ – guidelines which forbid any sexual relationships for LBGTQI people. We were told to wait for the outcome of Living in Love and Faith, with a benign smile of ‘I know it’s a difficult time’, belying the blithe attitude that characterises so much of the central church’s engagement with ‘issues’ that are grappled with daily in the lives of LBGTQI Christians. ‘All candidates’, we were told, must agree to live within the guidelines – yes, indeed, ‘all candidates’, yet the guidelines aren’t forbidding ‘all candidates’ from forming any sexual relationship whatsoever. The LGBTQI experience is one again ignored and minimised – there are overtones of ‘all lives matter’. LBGTQI people are put in a position where we are not expected to ‘assent’ to a document but are expected to live within its guidelines which are explicitly based on the reasoning found within it! It’s sophistry of the very worst order. The situation would be farcical were it not so tragic.

    LBGTQI people remain ‘other’.

    They are told to ‘just trust’, as if that trust has ever been justified in any actions from the centre of the church. They are told to ‘calm down’. They are told to ‘wait’. They are told ‘the time is not quite right’. All the while, the straight people in charge continue to discard LBGTQI voices, loves and hopes as peripheral to the concerns of the church. We can talk about services of blessing – which are certainly part of the solution – but until we tackle the underlying culture, nothing will change.

    At some point someone is going to have to take some responsibility. It is a known fact that some bishops are privately in favour of change. The time to speak is now.

    LBGTQI people are either collateral, or they are beloved children of God. Enough with the excuses, enough with the politics. We are not called to be politicians – indeed we are not ultimately called to be a focus of unity, if that damages God’s children. We are called to be heralds of the Kingdom of God. It’s time to get on with it.

  • General Synod: What Would Compromise Look Like?

    by the Revd Neil Patterson, Director of Vocations & Ordinands in the Diocese of Hereford and Vice-Chair of the General Synod Gender & Sexuality Group

    A number of commentators, including Simon Butler, Helen King and Charlie Bell, have taken the polarised membership of the new General Synod as good evidence that only a path of listening and compromise is likely to yield progress in the intractable sexuality debate.  I want to go a little farther, and sketch out one possible line of movement, and comment on how it would represent compromise for both sides.

    You will not be surprised that my starting point is the so-called ‘Hereford Motion,’ passed by our Diocesan Synod in 2017, and parked on the agenda of General Synod, which calls on the Bishops to authorise a form of service for same-sex couples, whilst making it clear it would be wholly optional.  The basic concept had been talked about in all sorts of places, and I am glad to make clear here that it was not my idea to produce a diocesan synod motion (thank you, Kay Garlick, former Chair of the Business Committee!) nor did I propose it (thank you, Matthew Burns, Team Vicar of Leominster!).  But I did produce the wording, so feel a certain responsibility for the motion.

    Why would this be compromise for progressives?  In my experience we have varying approaches to campaigning and may see different points of principle as more critical, but most of us believe in the equality of opposite- and same-sex relationships as places for Christian discipleship.  And so the only really logical conclusion is to welcome equal marriage, with the admission of same-sex couples on the same basis, whether or not your theology makes it a sacrament (mine doesn’t).  So to accept a position in which same-sex couples (even if married in law) were only offered a limited liturgy would inevitably seem to put us in a second-class place.

    And this has bites on the ground.  One of the strongest examples to me has been that of a couple of musician friends, partners for over 20 years, first civilly partnered and now married.  Both have been church organists (one still).  They will over the years have played at hundreds of opposite-sex marriages, cheerfully welcoming brides and grooms (whose previous and subsequent connection to the church may have been zero) to exercise their right to marry in church.  Under the Hereford Motion proposal, they would at least to have been able to enjoy a public liturgical celebration.  But no banns, no register, no invocation of Cana of Galilee.  That is a compromise, and it hurts.

    But we can recognise how conservatives too would have to compromise to live with this situation.  At present there is of course considerable diversity of opinion, and to some extent practice, across the Church of England.  But it is still credible for conservatives to say that the official positron is that traditional marriage is the only norm for relationships.  And none of us should doubt that for some, this is as basic as other key doctrines of the faith.  If we were to make the Trinity optional, or declare readings from the works of Aristotle to be Scripture, I too would wonder whether this was really a Christian church.

    And it has a local impact, as I have discussed with conservative parish clergy.  If approached by a same-sex couple seeking to celebrate their marriage, they can currently say politely that the Church of England doesn’t do that (and the website will confirm it).  If we have an official service, the couple will know that the refusal is down to their, or their parish’s, conscientious beliefs.  They will have been ‘outed’ as conservative on sexuality, and the couple may simply dismiss them as homophobic.  In my experience even the most conservative Christians want to be welcoming, but are wrestling in their hearts with what they believe to be obedience to God.  That hurts too.

    And all of us, on whichever side, may be fearful that a decision of this sort will mean local division of every sort.  Will the PCC approve use of the service?  Will Julie resign if they do?  Will Greg resign if they don’t?  What about the church school Inclusion and Diversity Policy?  It will not be easy, and it may dislodge us from customary middle-class English evasion.

    The question of public liturgies is of course only one element of the debate.  But I set it out as an example of how the way forward may well involve no-one getting what they want, or even what they believe to be the most holy and true solution.  That seems to be the way, without exception, the Church of England does things.  And ideally there is usually an element of the settlement that can be interpreted by different sides to suit their own theologies, and I feel that’s not a bad thing.

    There is another reason, sharpened this week by the news of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s recent and seemingly fruitless meeting with the Archbishop and other senior churchmen in Ghana, where a proposed new law will criminalise LGBT+ people severely.  Whatever our fears, I firmly believe it very unlikely that any of us in the Church of England, conservative or liberal, LGBT+ or otherwise, face imprisonment for our identity or beliefs.  The joint statement by leaders of all the Synod groups in response to this threat of terrifying injustice may, sadly, be making little impact in Ghana.  But perhaps it is a sign that we are closer together than we realise, and can find a way forward.

    Revd Neil Patterson is writing here in a personal capacity.

  • General Synod – A Pragmatic View from the Middle Ground

    by the Ven Nikki Groarke, Archdeacon of Dudley and part of convening group for the Evangelical Forum on General Synod

    As I arranged to borrow a colleague’s academic gown, and rescued my crumpled white preaching bands from the depths of my cassock pocket, where they have been since the inauguration service of the last General Synod, (strange attire we clergy have to wear on this one-off occasion!), I reflected how different it feels this time to be heading off to London.  Different because I am not a synod-newbie, and have a clearer idea of what to expect and how it all works.  Different too because the experience of being a member of this body has changed me.  My understanding of the workings of the Church of England has deepened, I have been enriched through new friendships, and my views on some key issues under discussion have been modified, as I have engaged in dialogue, debate and process, both formal and structured, and informal in the bars and coffee areas around the edges.

    I am by nature an optimist, so I look forward to this group of sessions with faith and hope, honoured that the clergy of my diocese have entrusted me to serve in this way, and intending to do so diligently and prayerfully.  It is, however, hope tinged with sadness and frustration, that there are some amongst our elected colleagues, and from the ranks of synod groupies on social media, who would seek to divide and polarise us before we have even started.

    In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul begs his hearers to lead a life worthy of their calling and make “every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”  Unity in the body of Christ is not something we have to work to create, it is there to be maintained.  Indeed we are equipped through the Spirit to be built up in unity as we mature, as we know Jesus more fully and become like him.  Each of us has been given grace for this, Paul claims.  How I long to see that grace in evidence over these next five years.

    Society as a whole is becoming increasingly polarised.   Perhaps it’s the stress and isolation of a global pandemic, but it feels that extremists are ever more extreme, that any view held needs to be voiced with ever louder decibels, that anyone who does something disagreeable should resign instantly.  There is little room for careful conversation in any arena, and those who are hurting all too easily become casualties of word wars.

    As Christians we have been given grace to engage with differing positions more healthily.  Synod is not, as some have described it, a house of two main parties to which all must reveal their allegiance and swear their loyalty, but an elected body of Christ followers called to engage with maturity, humility and trust.  It’s easy to make assumptions about where people stand on certain issues, to categorise, judge, and pit us against ‘the other’.  But some of us don’t fit those boxes into which we are being pushed.

    I didn’t anticipate at the beginning of the last synod that I would deliver the opening speech in a key debate on sexuality and become associated with the ‘silent middle’.  I have no regrets, but what’s changed from that moment, when I stuck my head above the parapet, is that I am no longer silent, and somehow my willingness to be vulnerable seems to have enabled the middle to have a voice.

    It can take courage to hold the middle ground, and it’s not a comfortable place to be. Neither is it newsworthy or popular.  But standing in the middle often places you close enough to listen to ‘the other’. In the middle you perhaps hear more than those who shout from the extremes, where they have sometimes been driven by pain as well as passion.  From the middle you can engage in conversation and learning. You can grow.  You can change.  On the issue I spoke on then, I have moved a little further away from the centre.  I hope that many of us will change our stance on different things over the coming years. That’s not weakness.  It’s openness to learn and grow and change.

    So I will speak confidently from the middle during this synod whenever it feels appropriate, refusing to be categorised into a binary extremity.

    I am both an evangelical and inclusive and affirming of LGBT relationships. I am both passionate about saving the parish and believe we need to make changes at local church level, radically rethinking patterns of ministry to enable all churches to flourish.  I am convinced we need both local and central strategies for growth – most archdeacons are not out to close small churches, rather to enable them to flourish, and our diocesan appointment of a Dean of Smaller Churches is one way to do that, providing practical solutions in complex parishes.  We are in this together.

    The middle way will often be messy, compromise is rarely tidy – we’ve seen that in the way we have navigated other challenges within the church, such as the ordination of women.  But I would much rather have a win/win, both/and way forward with messiness and muddle, than remain stuck forever on issues where we will always differ.

    From the middle I will aim to navigate the decisions before us with principled pragmatism rather than pressured polarisation.  From the middle I will encourage other evangelicals to meet together as part of the Evangelical Forum in a safe space to reflect on synod issues, operating with a different model of being together than that of other evangelical gatherings on offer.  I will occasionally attend meetings of those groups described as the other ‘main party’, because I consider myself to be both orthodox and revisionist.

    And I will remind myself from time to time, that though the decisions taken at General Synod are hugely important, and we carry a weighty responsibility when we vote to make changes, or not, to the church we all love, we must not delude ourselves that we are representative of those who worship in our local churches week by week.  We are a quirky subset of the church, with time and inclination to participate in a highly structured, middle class, outdated governance structure which excludes some who would otherwise be involved, and does not even enter the consciousness of the majority.

    Many who are active in our churches only vaguely know that General Synod exists, they play no part in the election process, they only know we’ve made a controversial decision when it appears in the press. The alleged ‘substantial orthodox presence’ populating our churches is simply getting on with being church, trying their hardest to worship God in ways that are accessible to their neighbours and those they love.  They are serving their communities as best they can.  Some only start to care about same-sex blessings when their grandson introduces his male fiancé, others have gradually found the freedom to be themselves within the context of their congregation and openly identify as gay.  They want to save their parish, because they always have, not because it’s become a sexy slogan.  They are principled and pragmatic, and have been given grace to muddle through, mostly finding a middle way, compromising when they must to keep going, and living in the unity that is theirs to maintain.

    Let’s remember them, for it is they who will keep the Church of England alive and strong, not those of us debating its future in a stuffy chamber, or on social media.

  • General Synod: Over and Out!

    by the Revd Canon Rosie Harper, Chaplain to the Bishop of Buckingham and Trustee of the Ozanne Foundation

    Jayne very kindly invited me to reflect on my 11 years on General Synod, as the new Synod is about to begin. So please excuse it being a bit more personal than usual.

    My father’s first journey outside the UK was to Switzerland to meet the family of the beautiful young woman he had fallen in love with. Round a massive wooden table he was introduced to her parents and the six brothers and one sister. Later that evening they went for a walk and my mother (yes reader, she married him) asked him how he felt. He told her he’d been horrified. ‘Why were they all shouting at one another all the time? Why were they so cross?’

    Turns out he had mistaken passion for anger. Many British people do.

    I have often thought of this story as I have tried to make sense of my relationship with General Synod and indeed with the Church of England. Having retired from Parish ministry earlier this year and called it a day with General Synod, am I now heading for a divorce”?

    In order to fit in, to belong, to be a fitting wife for my pastor Dad, my mother interiorised her passion.  Coming over here just after the war and speaking with a Germanic accent I can only imagine how necessary that felt. I caught glimpses of a deep thinking, unconventional woman who was very concerned that I wouldn’t spoil my life chances by being perceived as too ‘over the top’.

    Somehow my drive to ask difficult questions, to challenge, to speak for people without a voice – yes, to be passionate – never got moderated to a fully British tone. It took me quite a while to understand that this was a problem in the Church of England.

    I first went to an Anglican church at university and that was because Ivor Keys was the organist and he was magic! While I was at the Royal Academy of Music I went to All Souls Langham Place and again, playing the violin in their orchestra more than compensated for the oppressive theology that I found there.

    Walking through the years I learnt Anglican ways and there was so much to enjoy. I found God in the hearts of good and loving people. Much as I loved my parish, and I really did, in due course I tried to get some new and very interesting jobs. I failed, not, I was told  because of my ability but because I was too outspoken. I belonged but I didn’t belong. General Synod was much the same. I remember being told ‘we need people like you’. Ha!

    Well – we all probably have a tale like that to tell. We all bring both spiritual and cultural baggage and encounter many layers of unwritten rules, disability, class, gender and race divisions, intellectual snobbery, power structures and old school networks, reputational lawyers and NDAs. It’s an Institution. What do you expect?

    Only this is a church that is meant to preach something rather different. That we are all equal before God and equally loved. That the first shall be last. That we should not judge.

    Sadly it seems that we just can’t get it right.

    I sat on the Synod that was trying to make women equal and become bishops and we managed to embed inequality into its very laws. I voted for a ban on conversion therapy and yet Christians are lobbying the Government for an exemption. We are still at the point where gay people are deemed to have been created less equal than others and denied both the joy of marriage and a place at the high table. We fail to see how even discussing this as an option is abhorrently abusive. There are just so many ways in which, by the sheer essence of who you are, it is so difficult to truly belong.

    For most of these years the discomfort was perfectly bearable. Daniel Finkelstein wrote a pre-obituary of terminally ill Frank Field in The Times on 2nd November. He described Field’s position in a way that resonated: ‘Field saw political allegiance as being a little like supporting a football team. Not something to which, once you had adopted it, you gave much further thought to or could easily change.’… ‘What Field meant by his analogy was that he realised his continued membership of the Labour party was tribal and he wasn’t going to let it constrain his thinking or actions.’

    Yep! That was how it was with me and the CofE.  It had become my home, yet I was fine about being a critical friend.

    It stayed like that for many years. It’s why I stood for election to General Synod. I was looking for reform and even rebirth and wanted to do my small part from within. The time I felt most lonely was when I articulated a Christian and compassionate argument for Assisted Dying, but even then I found kind and encouraging folk to talk to.

    What changed things for me was safeguarding. Working as chaplain to Alan Wilson, Bishop of Buckingham, we found ourselves listening to a growing number of people whose experience of abuse within the Church was made unspeakably worse by the way the institution treated them. I gained a far deeper understanding of the parable of the Good Samaritan. It was walking by on the other side writ large. Somehow with each new person’s experience I made a shift from feeling that the CofE was basically a good but flawed outfit, to wondering if there was something irredeemably rotten at its core.

    Over many years decent men and women promised to put survivors at the heart of all they did, but no-one could make it happen. Apology followed tear-stained apology.

    We began to drown under an avalanche of new policy, training and procedure, but the actual survivors remained an afterthought. Good grief – we still don’t even have a date for the Makin report into the Smyth abuse and Smyth died in 2017. The actual abuse has been known about for far longer and it seems the survivors matter so little that their story has not even been logged.

    I don’t know how this will end. It’s never great to divorce, and I’m not quite at that point yet, but it‘s hard to see the way forward once the trust has gone. I sincerely hope that the next generation of Synod members will find cause to be less cynical and I will watch with interest and encourage where I can.

  • General Synod: Once More Unto the Breach?

    by Canon Simon Butler, Member of General Synod and Vicar of St Mary’s, Battersea

    In two weeks’ time the new General Synod will be inaugurated. Synodical psephologists are already analysing the results, trying to see where they lead, especially on the question of human sexuality, attitudes to which seem to have been a key factor in determining who has been elected. The Church Times reckons that both progressives and conservatives have done well at the expense of the middle ground and traditional Catholics[1]; Inclusive Church reckons 45-47% of those elected are clear progressives; the Evangelical Group in General Synod (EGGS) also appears to have done well, although it is hard to see how many of ‘their’ candidates will vote in a conservative direction, if only because EGGS encouraged conservative candidates not to be clear about that in their election addresses[2]!

    All of this is grist to the mill to experienced Synod watchers: Anthony Archer, sadly not elected again from St Albans, says “I fear Living in Love and Faith (LLF) is dead in the water…there will be no change of any kind during 2021-26[3].”; from a very different perspective, Peter Ould claims that “there is still a substantial orthodox presence in the Church of England…LLF is not a shoe-in for the revisionists and we are likely to see no change…towards accommodating same-sex unions[4].”

    Despite divergent hopes, both Archer and Ould agree about one thing: that both ‘sides’ have the numbers to block any attempt by the other to move the church in a more conservative or more progressive direction. And, while strictly numerically that may prove accurate, I find myself wondering whether this is a genuine piece of realpolitik or simply a processing of either hopes dashed or worst fears not being realised?

    I think the jury is still out.

    First, because Synod is a gathering of disciples open to the Holy Spirit. We often change our minds or adjust our perspective through relationship and listening. Over the next five years, despite the best attempts of campaigning bloggers like Ian Paul and Colin Coward to persuade us that the choice is about two mutually-exclusive, competing ‘orthodoxies’ – what Paul would call “historic biblical orthodoxy[5]” and Coward “radical Christian inclusion…an evolutionary process[6]” – General Synod is made up of people committed to listening to God and one another. For reasons more psychological than theological, the most irreconcilable conservative and progressive campaigners seem to only want a ‘winner takes all’ approach.

    That is simply not part of the DNA of the Church of England. We bear with one another, we recognise we need one another, we accept (at our best) that we cannot be ‘A Christian Presence in Every Community[7]’ with only people like us. We say at every Eucharist, “we who are many are one body”. Like it or not, conservatives and progressives are stuck with one another – not chiefly in synodical deadlock, but in a shared obedience to discern together the mind of Christ for the future of the Church. Who knows where that could lead? Could God’s truth be bigger than either/or?

    Second, because LLF is alive and well and being engaged with. Peter Ould’s sleight of hand claim that, because lay Synod electors return good numbers of conservatives the Church of England is more conservative than liberals claim and conservatives fear, is no more than an assertion, especially as worried conservatives have been encouraged for some time to pack Deanery Synods with members[8]. Conservative forces are often energised to resist change more by fear than hope when it comes to politics; but, even if the conservative bloc is strong in Synod, the evidence of LLF is that, where it is done properly, it is landing well and that many people are listening and learning, not just to bolster their own view, but to appreciate the views of others. At the very least this must open up the possibility that listening really does change hearts and attitudes and that change remains entirely possible. The possibility of change is what we signed up to in commending Living in Love and Faith.

    So even if there are blocking minorities in the General Synod, I agree with Charlie Bell that compromise is still possible[9]. Indeed, I think both theologically and politically it may well be essential for the health of the Church we all claim to love – even if we don’t love all of it as much as we love our bit of it! The problem is of course that both “sides” want to compromise in separate ways – and expect the other side to do so in ways that suit that our “side’s” agenda. We will have to work extremely hard and long to discover the costly path of what Bell helpfully articulates as “compromise and conscience”.

    This week, there has been an encouraging first step in response to the dreadful proposals to criminalise LGBTQ+ people in Ghana. As many will know, the Ghanaians have issued a statement supporting a parliamentary Bill[10] which, among other things, will result in draconian action against LGBTQ+ people and their supporters, even potentially their families. These ungodly proposals have attracted widespread criticism, including from Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and many diocesan bishops. Significantly, however, the Officers of the General Synod have combined with the leaders of key Catholic, Evangelical and progressive voices on sexuality to issue a joint statement of support for Archbishop Justin’s intervention. It’s a positive step to see both progressive and conservative voices on sexuality uniting in the face of something that clearly flies in the face of every statement and agreement made by the Primates of the Anglican Communion.

    Such solidarity is a small but visible step we have been able to take together; yet, given the much wider challenges the Church of England faces, can conservatives and progressives can find any further common ground? For some, like Peter Ould and Ian Paul, the synodical deadlock is evidence that no change is likely and I firmly expect them to argue that the whole project should be abandoned; I’ve begun to hear that argument rehearsed. But what they fail to appreciate is that, for many progressives, even the evolutionary ones like me rather than the radical ones like Colin Coward, the issues are as fundamental to our discipleship as those of conservatives: for us the Gospel is for all; we often see holiness and discipleship in same-sex relationships, a sign of God’s blessing that the Church should honour. The loving faithfulness I see in such relationships in my congregation is far more exemplary than the tabloid tone we see in some conservative blogging, which see progressives colluding in a “furious assault on the Church”[11].

    Whatever the synodical numbers, this matter isn’t going to go away. Unless we can compromise, we will all have to shoulder responsibility for a never-ending argument about sexuality while the Church of England becomes even more distant from the people of our land.

    It’s time to start a different conversation. No one holds all the cards. Do we all dig our heels in crying, like Luther, “Here I stand; I can do no other”? Or might we all stop blaming each other for the division we face, and try and reach a settlement? Ironically, with no winner-takes-all possible, the likelihood of a settlement actually increases.

    Some will cry “Once more unto the breach, dear friends![12]”, as we return to the synodical fray, but I find myself wondering if we can afford to doubt the possibility of a settlement, remembering Lucio’s words in Measure for Measure, “Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt[13].”

     

    [1] https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2021/22-october/news/uk/high-turnover-in-general-synod-elections

    [2] https://www.pinknews.co.uk/2021/09/22/church-of-england-evangelicals-general-synod-candidates/

    [3] https://www.facebook.com/anthony.archer/posts/10158075355006361

    [4] https://www.psephizo.com/life-ministry/what-will-the-new-general-synod-look-like/

    [5] https://www.psephizo.com/sexuality-2/debating-the-church-and-same-sex-marriage/

    [6] http://www.unadulteratedlove.net/blog/2021/8/3/radical-christian-inclusion-a-definition

    [7] The strapline of the Church of England

    [8] http://www.ceec.info/uploads/4/4/2/7/44274161/gs_2021_elections_paper_leaflet_-_jw_edit_28.08.2020.pdf

    [9] https://viamedia.news/2021/10/13/general-synod-the-importance-of-compromise-conscience/

    [10] https://www.episcopalcafe.com/ghanas-anglican-bishops-support-draconian-anti-gay-bill/

    [11] https://www.psephizo.com/sexuality-2/what-miracles-does-the-church-need-on-sexuality/

    [12] Henry V, Act III, Scene I

    [13] Act I, Scene IV

  • Now is Not The Time to Cut Clergy Posts!

    by the Ven Mark Ireland, Archdeacon of Blackburn and co-author with Mike Booker of ‘Making New Disciples’

    Twice in the last ten days we have appointed excellent candidates from outside the diocese to fill vacant parishes, one a curate at the end of their curacy and one transferring from unpaid non-stipendiary ministry to a paid position. On both occasions their respective archdeacons told me that they would have loved to keep the candidate in their diocese but sadly there was an indefinite freeze on appointing anyone not already on the incumbents’ payroll ‘for financial reasons’. Whilst I am delighted that parishes in our diocese should benefit, I can’t help lamenting that other dioceses are following a policy which I fear will prove short-sighted.

    Far from saving money, cutting the numbers of stipendiary clergy usually leads to a reduction in income, as less mission and ministry takes place and fewer people become disciples of Jesus Christ. When clergy are asked to take on more parishes in ever larger benefices, they somehow manage to keep all the services, buildings and occasional offices going, at least after a fashion, but they inevitably have less time and energy for mission and evangelism and planting new congregations. They also spend more time at their desk – and so have less time to spend in being a visible presence in the life of the community and talking to those who are searching for faith.

    Another short-term cost saving measure that creates lasting structural damage is delaying the appointments to our vibrant parishes. The lack of ordained leadership for extended periods of time erodes parish life, chokes off growth and demotivates generous givers.

    I know that the theory is that lay ministry will expand to fill the gap left by stipendiary clergy.

    In a recent book (Making New Disciples, 2015) Mike Booker and I quoted a remarkable statistic that 40% of fresh expressions of church are led by lay people with no formal training or authorisation. However potential lay ministers need clergy with time to recognise their gifts, encourage their vocation and invest in their training and development. As an incumbent a major part of my time was spent discipling individuals and growing new leaders, but when I focused on that I never worked myself out of a job. Instead, the church grew and I was as busy as ever!

    What’s more, freezing recruitment of parish clergy doesn’t make sense in spiritual terms.

    We have been praying and working for a 50% increase in vocations. Just when God seems to be answering our prayers and the number of vocations is increasing, we should be prayerfully trusting God to provide the finance to enable us to deploy these priests. What other organisation would go to the trouble and expense of recruiting and training new staff, only to tell them at the end of their trainee post that there was no job for them?

    Freezing recruitment also stifles the work of the Holy Spirit by hampering the growth of fresh expressions of church. Church plants sometimes grow to the size where they can no longer be sustained by volunteers. This is exactly the time when bold investment is needed to help the congregation transition to a paid priest. Such posts have potential to become self-supporting in time. However, if dioceses do not release funds at this point to pay a stipendiary priest the growth that the Spirit has given is I believe stifled and decline follows.

    And it doesn’t make sense on financial grounds.

    One diocese has cut a significant chunk of  stipendiary posts to save money, only to find the deficit is just the same. Many dioceses post-Covid have seen a significant drop in income but also a significant rise in the value of investments, leading to an increase in total assets. Whilst diocesan boards of finance rightly focus on what is held in free reserves, they should not ignore total assets. Whilst a significant part of a diocese’s total assets is in housing for current clergy (which can rarely be touched), there is often other housing stock being held onto ‘just in case’.

    Investments have performed remarkably well during the last three years, meaning that some dioceses may find themselves with increasing total assets at the same time as they are cutting clergy posts. The Charity Commission encourages charities not to accumulate large reserves but to use their assets for the object of the charity. During Covid we have endured an 18-month rainy day, so logically we should be reducing our total reserves significantly at this time to tide us over and help us maintain frontline clergy posts which will enable us to rebuild church life – otherwise there is little point in having such reserves. The diocese I serve in is committed to committed to building financial sustainability alongside strengthening our ministry both ordained and lay. To do so we recognise the need to realise investments now to underpin our vision.

    God loves to answer prayer. We have prayed that God would send more priests, and God has – the number of vocations is increasing. We have prayed for God to raise up new local congregations across the country, and God has. Rather than cutting clergy posts, let us turn to God afresh in believing prayer, trusting that the One who is able to send us priests and raise up new congregations can and will give us the finance we need.

    As Jesus said, ‘Seek first God’s kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

     

     

  • The Changing Face of General Synod

    by Prof Helen King, Professor Emerita in Classical Studies at The Open University, elected member of General Synod and member of Living in Love and Faith project

    I have just been elected to General Synod for Oxford diocese. This isn’t the first time I have stood for General Synod: it’s actually the third. I stood successfully in another diocese in 1985, in my late 20s, making me one of the youngest people on Synod, and then again five years later; at that point there were only eleven of us under-35 (out of a Synod total of around 500 people). I stood down because I moved diocese.

    I didn’t miss it: I had found it a bruising experience. In particular, the debates leading up to ordaining women were painful, even for someone with a strong vocation to be a laywoman.

    Yet I felt very strongly that I must stand this time around. So, how is it feeling now?

    In some ways, it’s familiar, even though different. Synodical government wasn’t new to me even in 1985. I’d accepted my vicar’s invitation to stand for PCC when I was 19. I was a rep on the local Council of Churches, and I rapidly moved on to Deanery Synod and then Diocesan Synod, as well as becoming Deanery Synod secretary. It was pretty obvious where I was heading. I remember the election process before the internet: including finding a local printer and paying for the printing costs (I was on a grant, just finishing my PhD, and money was very tight). The first time around, we had hustings; real, in-person, pretty well-attended hustings. I remember one candidate a few years older than me who spoke before me at the first of these, who stressed how many people had urged him to stand. Then as now, I saw this as typically churchy false modesty. Why is it wrong to know what you are capable of doing, and to put yourself forward? When I spoke, I talked about how I felt my skill-set and my experience made me a good candidate, and about how I had been along to listen to Synod meetings in Church House and, from my position in the public gallery, had realised for myself that this was something I could do well.

    When I joined General Synod, I was advised that it’s a good idea to belong to some ‘grouping’ just to get a sense of what is really going on. I joined the Catholic Group because that was where I thought I would feel most comfortable. I was then a member of the Church Union and enthused by the charismatic movement then taking place. In my early teens, I had been part of a large evangelical Church of England congregation with a very good youth club, which was also influenced by the charismatic revival, and I had then switched to a much-nearer middle-of-the-road parish church because my parents preferred it (my father, a former choirboy, was entirely turned off by the music at the evangelical church) and I didn’t need to rely on lifts home after evening events.

    The Catholic Group on General Synod had its moments, particularly in the bar at the York sessions, but, even though some supported women as deacons, as one of the few members fully committed to the ordination of women (I was also a member of the Movement for the Ordination of Women, and made no secret of this) I was never going to feel fully comfortable there. On one occasion I suspect I was left off a mailing list because they felt they couldn’t entirely trust me.

    I have no idea which groupings will exist when I turn up in November, but I have felt very well supported by the Inclusive Synod group during the election process so that is one which I will attend.

    At the end of the previous Synod, I was surprised to read people commenting about how much they thought they’d miss the camaraderie: I made friends on Synod, but not to that level. Partly this could be down to location. My diocese didn’t pay for overnight stays, so the two London meetings each year involved daily commutes home. This meant I missed out entirely on the evening meetings, and on any socialising over dinner. Some people from my diocese stayed with friends; I didn’t know anyone with whom I could stay. For next month, I’ve booked my room at the Premier Inn!

    With the results still being announced, I already feel I know more people on this new Synod than I did first time around. That’s not surprising: it’s at least partly just because I am older. My friendship circle, both lay and ordained, is completely different to that of a lay woman in her late 20s who had never worked for the Church. An old schoolfriend just sent me a message to say she has been elected; yesterday a colleague I’ve worked with in academic contexts sent me the same message. Social media puts me in contact with more Church members, some of whom I’ve never met, but who have also been elected to Synod.

    I’ll be interested to find out how it now feels to be a woman on Synod. Even “Can women be laity?” was once a genuine question, one I explored here. In the 1985-1990 Synod, while there were women in the House of Laity, a surprising number turned out to be the wives or children of clergy. There’s obviously nothing wrong with that – my own stepdaughter is a priest – but the experience of being part of a clergy household is a very different to my own. On one occasion, after I’d used a single word in ancient Greek in a speech, someone noted that I had done so and asked me if my husband was a priest; a startling assumption! I pointed out that my degrees are in ancient history.

    Now, we have women in all three houses. Then, we fought to get a crèche. Now, members can claim for the cost of caring for a dependent. Has all this change altered the feel of the Synod, I wonder?

    Only a month to wait and find out…

     

     

  • General Synod: The Importance of Compromise & Conscience

    by the Revd Dr Charlie Bell, Fellow at Girton College, Cambridge  and curate at St John the Divine, Kennington

     

    The next few years in General Synod are going to be challenging ones.

    There are a number of substantial issues to address, all of relatively equal importance and all of which are going to affect the life of our church and the life of its members in significant ways.

     

    I have written previously about the obfuscation and political manoeuvrings of the elections, but the reality is that – however unedifying and unimpressive some of the contests were – we are where we are, and we will have a lot of people on synod, with a lot of differing ideas, and with those ideas a lot of possible heat to be generated.

    I am relieved not to be one of them, but nonetheless, having watched the last few months of politicking, several things have stood out.

    The first thing new members of synod are going to need to do is to recognise that most – if not all – of their fellow members, and indeed wider members of the Church of England, (including those who make noise in the wider the church), are doing so not out of some kind of hatred for the church or in an attempt to self-aggrandise, but rather because they genuinely believe what they are saying and doing to be in the best interests of the church. We might vehemently – at times, angrily and in great frustration – disagree in the Church of England, but we must not lose sight of the fact that each of us comes to the table because we fervently, earnestly, and honestly believe what we are saying. If we don’t, then we are easily found out – but this is, thank God, rare.

    The first watchword of the new synod must, then, be “conscience”.

    That is, a recognition that others are not out to destroy the church, but rather acting in a way that is answerable to God, and that comes from a place of serious intent. We may indeed believe others are wrong – fundamentally so, and on issues that are close to the heart of God and His people – but we must learn to stop the slurry of accusation that we are so good at producing. Here, I once again draw attention to the Pastoral Principles – sensible, helpful and necessary in the current high temperatures in the Church of England – which are at the core of this virtue. If we cannot recognise each other as Christians – Christians who long after God and for the good of His church – then we have failed in our fundamental duty of belonging to the Body of Christ.

    From this recognition must come a commitment to listening to, and responding to, the actual words that others speak and the position that they wish to outline and believe in. There must be no more pejorative talk of ‘lobbies’ or “attempts to wreck the doctrine of the church”.  This might sound impressive in a political speech, but it is simply not true. Likewise, it is also not good enough to have one voice in private and one in public. What we say, and do, matters – and until we recognise one another’s integrities – rather than showing determination to besmirch and misrepresent each other – then we are on a road to nowhere.

    Those who want same-sex marriage are not trying to destroy the church – they are trying to enrich it. Those who want to forbid it are holding to their own view and interpretation of scripture in good conscience, however painful that might feel to faithful LGBTQI Christians. We don’t have to agree, and we don’t have to tiptoe around each other – but we owe it to each other to respond honestly, openly and without caricature or twisting the truth when we meet each other’s arguments.

    The second key theme is going to be “compromise”.

    Nobody likes it – if we are honest, we all prefer to ‘win’ outright. Yet that is not what the next five years is going to look like for any ‘side’. There are good reasons to want to ‘win’ – for those who oppose same-sex marriage, it is because of the threat of ‘blessing sin’ and of the threat to the current doctrine of the church. To those who affirm LBGTQI people, it is because every LGBTQI person that grows up repressing their sexuality in the name of Jesus Christ can lead to severe mental health consequences and is a tragedy – a needless one.  It it also because of the fact that many see the current teaching of the Church of England as fundamentally narrowing the boundless love and grace of God.

    We are quite simply not going to agree on this, but we need to either decide to walk away, or to compromise. For me, compromise and conscience are two sides of the same coin.

    In a recent article, Ian Paul – arguing for the non-affirming position – asserted that everyone agrees a compromise is impossible. I beg to differ – not least on the factual accuracy of the statement. Many, many people – of different theologies – are desperate to seek a compromise. The challenge is what that compromise might look like.

    For those, like me, who believe it is high time for the church to bless faithful gay couples, compromise is absolutely part of the way forward. I have no desire whatsoever to tell those who disagree with me that they are not Christians, however wrong I think they are, and I have no desire whatsoever to exclude them from the Church – not that I would have any authority to do so in any case. Instead, I want to find ways to genuinely walk together in which both our integrities are recognised, and in which both integrities are honoured.

    For me, this would mean turning back to the importance of conscience. It is abundantly clear that we do not all agree, and we will not come to one mind on this. It is also clear that those who are affirming and those who are not both love the church, are Christians, and ultimately love the Lord Jesus. If we are to take the Lord’s command to love one another He loved us seriously, then we must surely see a way forward based on the mutual recognition of our differences and yet willingness to enable one another and call on the Holy Spirit to reveal all things.

    This is the makings of a compromise – one that enforces neither belief or practice in this area, but that allows us to look each other in the face and say, ‘you are beloved of God, we disagree, but we will fulfil His command to love one another’. I long to belong to a church where we are open in our disagreements, and not so fearful that we won’t admit this disagreement to those who walk through our doors. It is through such openness that our fears of compromise might be ameliorated too – those who fear doctrinal catastrophe can be clear that affirming LBGTQI relationships is not the only position in the Church of England; likewise, those who fear for the safety of young people growing up in non-affirming communities can point those vulnerable youngsters to places where other points of view are expressed.

    For the ultra-purists, this will never work – but their strength is immensely over-estimated. It is quite simply not true that a compromise is not possible, desirable, or sought. Our decision is either to sacrifice our unity as beloved children of God on the altar of prideful purity, or to embrace unity in openness, diversity of belief and practice, and in a recognition that we might, just, be wrong.

    Compromise in conscience is possible – it is up to us to stop being the stumbling block in its way.

  • General Synod: Why I Can’t Support “Save the Parish” Campaign

    by Anne Foreman, former member of General Synod, former member of the Business Committee and Trustee of the Ozanne Foundation

    So, by the time this goes to press, Deanery Synod members will have just a few hours left  to cast their votes and the new General Synod will soon be elected. As someone who has served for two very different dioceses since 1995 (!) I chose not to stand again, but instead to nominate, second and support two exceptional inclusive candidates – I pray they got on, God knows Synod needs people like them.

    It proved an unappetising campaign, sadly characterised by obfuscation and misinformation rather than transparency and straightforwardness, and confrontationally tribal, far more so than when I was first elected.

    And where has obfuscation and misinformation manifested itself?  In my view in the oh so ‘Motherhood and Apple Pie” Save the Parish Campaign (STP)!

    Who is going to say ‘No’ to saving their parish? Rooted in a nostalgic and unrealistic perception of the current position of the Church, STP has anticipated the outcome of the consultative paper GS 2222 (a review of the Mission and Pastoral Measure 2011) to suggest to people in the pews that the closure of their church and the ability and desire to get rid of their vicar, is inevitable.

    Where is the evidence to show that Diocesan Officers are hell bent on abandoning the Parish System? Most are serving members of a parish themselves and support the Parish system, which at its heart is the practical expression of the identity of the  Church of England.  But they are facing and dealing with a financial situation which is unsustainable.

    Of more concern, and more serious, is why aren’t the Archbishops believed when they absolutely refute the notion that the Parish is under threat? In part because there is an enormous divide between their words and what it looks and feels like on the ground.  A whole host of issues have contributed to a lack of trust that needs to be restored.  It will need lots of prayer, humility and attentive listening, but it is I believe achievable!

    Underlying the STP campaign is a lack of support for projects supported by Strategic Development Funding (SDF) which some dioceses, like mine in Exeter, have benefitted from.  SDF has many critics and I have concerns about some aspects of it, but there are more constructive ways of addressing this.  There is nothing to be feared from SDF funded projects!  Indeed, there is mutual learning to be gained from experiencing different approaches to sacramental worship and biblical teaching.

    But GS 2222 is a Green Paper and as such, after the consultation closes, proposals will be developed and brought to the February 2022 synod …if there is sufficient consensus about a way forward (para 136). Note the ‘if’.  The place to challenge the potential changes is on the floor of the General Synod, after reading the outcome of the consultation.  Despite the popular view of the Synod as a massively bureaucratic, unwieldy, juggernaut it is an essentially democratic place! (yes, honestly!)  A review of the Mission and Pastoral Measure is intended to improve and streamline governance; improved governance does not undermine democracy.

    Whist Parishes might not need saving, they do have to respond to the need to address the practicality of how to continue to serve, disciple and love their communities given the current reality of declining congregations, reduced income and fewer priests.  This can change! The proposed mixed ecology outlined in the envisaged simpler, bolder, humbler church is not an alternative to ‘traditional’ parish life, but a recognition of the changing social context in order for us all to play our part in proclaiming the Gospel afresh to each generation.

    Of course the world is a very different place since General Synod evolved in 1969 from what was the Church Assembly.  We have moved from where Christianity was “the culture” to where Christianity is now “a choice”, and but one choice amongst many at that.   What hasn’t changed is that as disciples of Jesus Christ we are called to witness not only amongst other Christians, or those on the margins of church life, but to a society where the name of Jesus is largely unknown and unspoken.

    As a church we need to face the fact that people outside the church do not feel themselves to have “a Church of England shaped hole” waiting to be filled.  As the established church we do still have influence, (though some would say it is diminishing fast), and we must use it to stand alongside the marginalised and demonstrate Gospel values.

    As to my own service on Synod, well, although there were difficulties, heartbreak even at times, at the risk of displaying Pollyanna syndrome I had the best time! I met loads of amazing people, worked hard, read loads, laughed lots, learned to speak in debates and was invited to contribute to worship.

    If you are reading this as a newly elected member, there is always someone to help and encourage if synodical government is unfamiliar.  If you are curious, interested and up for a challenge you’ll love it.

    My prayers go with the new General Synod as it begins to fulfil its purpose – to understand God’s will for the church and to engage representatives of all God’s people in the task.