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Category: Human Sexuality

  • All About Power: General Synod and the LLF Debate

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

    The General Synod of the Church of England is a strange beast, and this week was no exception. Most of us don’t pay an enormous amount of attention to it most of the time, but this week felt different. This week, our lives and loves were up for debate – once again. And whilst the outcome was – to my mind – a positive, albeit small, step for LGBTQIA+ people in the life of the church, the debate gave us an insight into far more than that.

    In 2017, the bishops were asked to bring something back to Synod that might prove acceptable to the majority, and that might model a better approach to same sex relationships. In many ways, they have done precisely what they were asked to do – their offering ‘passed’. Yet one thing that they – corporately, although there are individual shining examples – cannot be accused of is being courageous. It is absolutely true that the numbers from this synod – a body that is entirely unrepresentative of the wider church, most particularly given the ludicrous method of electing lay representatives – suggest that equal marriage would not have secured the required 2/3 majority in all three houses, a stipulation that Parliament must surely look to change in the coming years. Yet a refusal to even debate it, whatever the result of the vote on the prayers – a refusal backed by the House of Bishops – is frankly pathetic.

    For at the heart of the debate in the chamber, and the endless faux outrage outside, was the outworking of power, and a refusal to dare to let go of it. For years, a relatively small, yet vocal and uncompromising minority have spent their time holding us all to ransom. The motion in front of Synod was one that offered a compromise, that enabled people to hold different views and follow their consciences. It is fascinating – in that light – that the majority wasn’t any larger. The reality is that many people who oppose same sex marriage don’t just oppose it – they oppose anyone being permitted to disagree with their point of view, their theological or Biblical interpretation. This is all about power.

    We saw this in the scandalous employment of endless delay tactics at Synod, whether by appeals to process or the crass disingenuity of some of the amendments tabled. Up popped the same group of people, time and again, to try to bring down any possibility of change and to try to kick this into yet longer grass. Synod, on the whole, saw through this, but it cast a shadow on proceedings in quite a significant way. ‘Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one,’ as we hear in St Matthew’s Gospel. There is no moral get-out on truthfulness – we cannot simply ignore the need to be honest in the small things in order to serve The Truth™. That is not how Christianity works, and I hope those who stood up in an attempt to subvert Synod might reflect a little on how that looked from the outside. The intervention by the Second Estates Commissioner, Andrew Selous MP, was also somewhat unusual – shall we say – in suggesting that the real victims were the conservative MPs who felt unable to speak out in public. This argument is tired and false victimisation is not a good look. Finding it difficult to express a view is not the hard bit; having your entire lives discussed by other people as a matter of abstract debate just might be. Giving up power, too, is hard.

    Many have said that the Church of England is obsessed with sex. I might modify that a little bit – from the outside, the Church of England’s General Synod seems to be obsessed with other people’s sex lives. It was embarrassing to watch, and at times quite infuriating, most particularly when hearing the spurious nonsense that suggested gay people having sex would ruin opposite sex marriages. Sorry, folks, but you’ve ruined marriage quite enough by yourselves – it ain’t us who have increased the divorce rate – and are your relationships really that fragile?! Someone even stood up to say their entire engagement would be rendered a waste of time if gay people were allowed to have sex. Give me strength.

    Of course, this was all because the bishops were remaining silent on sex outside of marriage, and several speakers told Synod that this was an outrage. Well, might I remind those members of Synod who appeared terribly upset about that, that they are the very people who have stopped us even having the conversation about Equal Marriage. You cannot complain that the bishops have to find some kind of pastoral accommodation outside of marriage when you won’t allow the conversation on marriage. But then, they know this already. As I say, it’s all about power.

    There were some key takeaways from the debate. The first was that this Synod, to a large degree, found good in same-sex relationships – for the first time. At last we can face down the usual claptrap about how same-sex relationships, with or without ‘sexual activity’ (whatever that is), are bad in the ‘settled mind’ of the church. They aren’t. It’s over. Issues is gone (or at least soon will be).

    Secondly, the amendment that passed was a total waste of everyone’s time and effort. In effect, it did absolutely nothing – it endorsed the decision of the bishops not to bring same-sex marriage to the chamber on this occasion (unsurprising, albeit absurd), and endorsed their intention (a strange turn of phrase) that the prayers shouldn’t be ‘contrary to or indicative of a departure from the doctrine of the Church of England’. Given that the bishops made that explicit in their accompanying paperwork and given that this is required anyway under canon law, this amendment is totally pointless. Neither did it restate the current position on marriage (and amendments seeking to do this comprehensively failed), nor does it bind any later synod. I suppose the phrase commonly used is ‘virtue signalling’.

    Thirdly, those who oppose same-sex relationships should be careful what they try to amend for. Whilst it might have been a great play at delaying tactics – winsome even – it rather takes the wind out the sails when Synod votes down the wrecking amendments. The final amendment, seeking once more to police the bedroom, was particularly nasty, and there was a delicious pleasure in watching it sink beneath the waves. Synod did not agree with the proposer that the prayers ‘should not be used so as to indicate or imply affirmation of sexually active relationships outside of Holy Matrimony or to invoke God’s blessing on such relationships’. That’s rather unfortunate for those seeking to make the new Pastoral Guidance another prurient, sex obsessed, holes-ridden, tool of oppression.

    So here we are. We can finally, as a church, catch up with God in blessing same-sex relationships. We can finally recognise the role of conscience in debates in which different perspectives have been reached with integrity and with due attention to scripture. And we can finally see the light coming through the ever-so-slightly open door to Equal Marriage.

    This is the beginning and not the end. This Synod, as divisive and tiresome as some of the debate was, has done what no Synod previously has ever been able or willing to do.

    The next step is Equal Marriage, because try as you might, you cannot hold back the justice of God.

  • This is No Time for a Soft Drink!

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

    Since the Gloucester Report of 1979 there have been many special C of E consultations on homosexuality. Each had its finer points and limitations.

    The latest, Living in Love and Faith, included some moving testimony for anyone who had not actually ever met a gay person before, if indeed there is anyone like that out there. It also proposed some excellent Pastoral Principles for difficult conversations in Church, that would work as well for an argument with the choir as a discussion of sexuality. Good fruitful conversations “acknowledge prejudice, speak into silence, address ignorance, cast out fear, admit hypocrisy and pay attention to power.”

    Has the LLF process actually done these things? And if it has, why has its rollout been so scrappy and contentious? Perhaps the honest result was too hot to handle, and the only way the bishops thought they could keep control of their emerging situation was to come up with a fudge. The problem with fudge is that it’s ambrosia to fudge lovers, but an improbable solution to a war between diabetics and sugar junkies. The bishops’ cunning plan might just annoy everyone equally on all sides, and land them up where they started.

    Perhaps there’s something about the whole way marriage equality has been framed in the Church of England that has trapped it in a destructive infinite monkey cage? Wittgenstein said the reason his early work stalled and led nowhere was that “a picture held us captive. And we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorably.” The fantasies and fictions the Church of England has indulged in for years about marriage may have driven a self-destructive narrative to vanishing point. Jesus’ paradigm for marriage has been treated as though it were a definition for all time, and it can’t bear the weight.

    Step outside the ecclesiastical goldfish bowl and an entirely different perspective dawns. The wreck and the pottery diver who looked as though he was perpetually sitting on the toilet are only pretend — decoration to make the fish think they were living au naturel not in a tank.

    Last Thursday at the Oxford Union, three bishops spoke in support of the motion that “this house supports same sex marriage in the Church.” Despite the President’s best endeavours, no Catholic or Anglican bishop could be found to speak against. Of course not. Who would want to go down as “the homophobic bishop”? The Union needed to supply two opposition speakers who made it plain they did support same sex marriage, but wanted the motion voted down on the technicality that people should not expect to get married in Church any more than get a driving licence there. Two speakers sincerely believed gay marriage was wrong. One told us that God was discriminatory and sent those who follow the Bishop of London to hell. The other took us back to Nazi Germany, like Basil Fawlty when a guest complained about a prawn cocktail. The motion was carried by 181 votes to 41. It would seem that gay marriage is unthinkable for people who believe there is something wrong with being gay, but for those who see it as a natural aspect of being human it was obvious.

    This being the case, the only choice for a solution now, even a provisional one, would be to facilitate mutual understanding and tolerance, along the lines of the Archbishop’s observation at Lambeth last year that there are churches who could not survive if they didn’t conduct same sex weddings, whilst others could not survive if they did.

    But this is where the Pastoral Principle of paying attention to power kicks in. There is an extraordinary imbalance in the way power is being used here. Some gay people want to marry on conscience grounds, whilst others object, also from conscience. Much as those supporting equal marriage would like it to be allowed in church, they realise this would be intolerable to some who oppose it. Of course nobody would ever be forced to conduct a same sex wedding. What couple would want that anyway? That is an acceptable compromise. St Paul commends such an approach in Romans 14. However, this understanding is not reciprocated. Not only do opponents find it intolerable to conduct gay weddings in Church, but they insist on blocking anyone else from doing that. Thus they hijack the integrity of those with whom they disagree, often deploying threats of schism and bankruptcy which feel like blackmail.

    So what about synod this week?

    Whatever happens the bishops, leading from behind the sofa, have engineered a situation where it matters very little what the synod actually thinks. Perhaps everybody can agree, after more than 44 years of discussion about homosexuality, that the least satisfactory thing to do now would be to kick the can further down the road yet again. There’s a sense that the bishops now know the right thing to do, but feel they can only manage what is politically expedient. Some might call that a failure of leadership, what the RAF used to call “lack of moral fibre”.

    The spectre of disestablishment hovers over the whole debate. Hensley Henson is said to have observed to a former Archbishop of Canterbury after the 1928 Prayer Book debacle, “I imagine your Grace has found that a lifetime habit of steering around difficulties rather than facing them has scarce prepared you for such a time as this.”

    Back to the future?

  • No More Delay: A Call to General Synod

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

    I’ll admit to approaching Synod this week with rather mixed emotions. This is the case not least because I’m not a member – so I’ll be sitting on the side-lines, somewhat glad I’m not in the debating chamber, and yet also finding myself in that position that so many of us find ourselves in: watching other people make decisions about our lives.

    The sense of powerlessness amongst LGBTQI folk has been palpable as Living in Love and Faith dragged the Church of England into conversations many didn’t want to have, for many different reasons. Yet there was always going to be an endpoint, and here we are.

    What’s on ‘offer’ from the bishops is, in a sense, staggering from two directions. The wet-behind-the-ears young upstart me who despaired at the pathetic episcopal Valentine’s day poison-pen letter issued in response to the introduction of same-sex marriage back in 2014 would not believe we now have blessings on the table. Frankly, I’m not sure I would have believed they’d be on the table when the House of Clergy gave the bishops a bloody nose in Synod in 2017. Yet looking at where we stand now, I can’t help but be disappointed that that’s all we’re being offered, after all this time, after all this expended energy – I can’t help but be staggered that this is all the bishops, corporately, think we are worth.

    I care little for whether the draft prayers are blessing the people or the relationship – the fact of a blessing says that something is ‘good’, and for years we have heard that our relationships are no such thing. LGBTQI clergy have been hounded out of jobs; LBGTQI laity have had doors slammed in their faces; we have been told to have ‘warmer hearts and cooler heads’ whilst our entire lives, loves, and very existence has been trashed. We have been told to stop calling ourselves gay, and instead use whatever terminology is foisted upon us by those who know better. It is only in the church that those who are doing the oppressing get to determine what the bounds of that oppression are, what homophobia is, what transphobia is. Meanwhile the world looks on, and cannot understand how we have gotten ourselves into this mess. The Church of England is seen as prejudiced, hateful, unwelcoming – however much we tell ourselves blessings is a big step.

    So I come to these proposals with anger, certainly, and yet with a sense of realism, too.

    The problem is that – however much we hate it – the next step in this process is political. That is simply a fact – this is now about votes. It is abundantly clear that nothing more than what is on the table could get through Synod, however much we wish it could. And that hurts, because here we are again being told to wait, wait, wait. Oh for more bishops to speak in our favour in more than a whisper; oh for them to stop hiding behind procedure and speak prophetically.

    And looking at the Questions for General Synod during this session, the sheer, prurient nastiness from some quarters continues. This does not look like a Synod that truly wants to apologise for the hurt done – that continues to be done – to LGBTQI Christians.

    We know that the bishops will authorise some form of these prayers ‘for use come what may’, whatever happens at Synod. The key thing now is how they are ‘received’ at Synod, and let’s not be naïve in thinking that this week doesn’t matter for what the future looks like.

    Self-professed conservatives seem divided, not least on whether same-sex relationships can ever be a good thing (however obscene that might sound to anyone who has ever met a gay, lesbian or bisexual person). Some ‘conservative’ bishops have offered a theological reflection on their concerns about equal marriage, yet this paper’s thinness of content perhaps belies the disagreements that remain beneath the surface in that camp. But notable is that even they are willing to say what would previously never have been said:

    Same-sex relationships can, of course, be lifelong, loving, committed, faithful, and provide deep and enduring companionship. As such the church needs to find ways to recognise and welcome such relationships, without explicitly or implicitly changing her teaching by doing so. 

    Yet the wider conservative response appears to be in one of two camps – delay, delay, delay, kick the can down the road yet again, or bizarre videos consisting primarily of weaponised prayer and threats to withhold money. In a sense, at least this mode of operation is finally out in the open. The threats have been there for years – the bishops have just been too scared to say anything.

    The delaying tactics aren’t going to work: the prayers are going ahead. We know this. There will be procedural nonsense and attempts to water everything down. You can just imagine what is coming from the usual suspects.

    Yet this is nothing more than a loud minority in the wider church that are excellent at getting themselves elected to stymie progress, and who have wasted our time for years.

    For what it’s worth, I think these proposals are the next step on the road, and the destination is equal marriage. I strongly believe inclusive synod members should vote them through, even if the progressive amendments don’t pass. We can reason with people all we like, but it’s through experience that people change their minds. The minute we bless same-sex couples, people’s prejudice will be challenged by real, living people, right in front of them, living ordinary, faithful, loving, honest lives of love and faith, to coin a phrase.

    Are these proposals enough? Absolutely they are not. Are they demeaning? Absolutely they are. Are they our best chance of changing the culture of the Church of England and creating an unstoppable momentum? I believe they are. If we vote them down, we simply provide ammunition for those who have always held the power over us. We won’t even be given the scraps, and the small but increasing group of genuinely supportive bishops will take the heat.

    Make no mistake: the ‘conservatives’ will do anything to make these proposals fail, because they know this is a step on the road and not the end of the journey. They know that this is their last chance to hold back the floodgates. We have been held back long enough – enough of this.

    But I would urge inclusive Synod members to make it abundantly clear that this is but a step on the road, and an unsatisfactory one at that. I would urge them to make it clear that if the new Pastoral Guidance is in the same vein as Issues in Human Sexuality, and if our clergy cannot marry according to their conscience, then the bishops will have betrayed us, again – and that there will be mutiny in the ranks. If the ‘conservatives’ won’t give us marriage, then they can hardly complain that sex outside of marriage is the next logical step. They made their bed.

    The Bishop of London has said in response to a Question that:

    The response of the bishops makes no proposals for further decision-making, nor does it have plans to do so. However, it is not within the bishops’ power to ensure or predict that there will never be further change in any direction.

    Let’s be absolutely clear – there may be no ‘plans’ for further decision-making, but any bishop who thinks that this thin gruel of acceptance is the end of the road is in for a rather rude awakening. Unlike those who threaten to take away parish share, I don’t offer this as a threat – I offer it as a promise. The way forward is clear, and it is time bishops were held to account.

    No more silence but much more honesty. Respect for theological differences of opinion. Freedom of conscience. No more punitive measures. And perhaps – at last – a recognition of the gift of LGBTQI people to the church.

    Synod reps, I urge you to get this done. Say no to delay, and drag the Church of England on the first step of the journey. There is an inevitable finale to this particular spectacle, and that finale is full inclusion – maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday soon. This is a time for hope, and for new beginnings – Synod reps, you are the midwives of this new creation. God bless you in what you will do this week.

  • Imagining Otherwise: Dreaming of the Future Church

    by Fr Jarel Robinson-Brown, Co-Chair of OneBody OneFaith and Visiting Scholar at Sarum College, Salisbury

    It is an immense gift, the most precious gift of my life, to be called to serve the people of God. I believe firmly that ministry to God’s people can teach us things otherwise unknowable. In my ten years of ministry, what I have valued most about serving the people of God is what it has shown me about people’s lives – how complicated each of our lives can be, how full of contradiction and paradox, how undeterminable our relationship to ourselves and others can be as we grow and fail, discover and wrestle with what it means to live, to be truly human. I suppose that what I am saying is that it is my pastoral relationships with God’s people that has most deeply transformed and deepened my theology. As I journey with God’s people, I have to let my guard down just enough, as priest, pastor and preacher – so that others too, may see the slow work of God not just in themselves and in our world, but also in me. It is in this dialectic relationship, where human experience touches human experience, that our theology deepens and our knowledge of God and reading of the scriptures are nurtured and enriched.

    Any theological conviction that begins fixed and remains fixed is one which has not come into contact with the world as it is, or us as we are. One can have a number of theological principles and moral convictions but, when someone who is made in the image and likeness of God sits in front of you and says ‘this is my life…here’s the mess I am, the mess I have made – here are my regrets, my failures, my shattered dreams’, a pastor can respond either with the mind and heart of Jesus, bringing their humanity to touch the humanity of another – or not. This is perhaps the biggest issue I have with much of the Church of England’s leadership currently – the lack of honesty about how our theological convictions are formed, and change. We seek to understand one another in the midst of a Church led largely by people we do not really know.

    For myself, I am so many contradictions. There are many labels I could wear: pro-life, Anglo-Catholic, Benedictine oblate, Black radical, patristic scholar, single priest, advocate for equal marriage, Wesleyan – not all of these are seen as compatible with one another, but they do name something about who I am and what I believe. There is something quite fatal about always wanting our lives to ‘make sense’, and part of the incoherence of the Church at the moment, is, I think, part of it becoming more honest, more real. This is the threat we LGBTQ+ Christians present to the Church – our lives do not ‘make sense’ to what people consider the only legitimate way of being a real Christian. It is because of the threat we pose that even heterosexual allies have to use words like ‘faithful’, ‘stable’, ‘committed’, ‘lifelong’ and ‘monogamous’ when expressing support for our relationships and marriage. They still seek to ‘absolve’ our love from its ‘sinfulness’ and ‘disorder’ – in other words, they still seek to make us straight in order to be holy. We must resist any attempt that seeks to describe LGBTQ+ relationships in this way, when heterosexual relationships are not made to carry a necessary list of qualifiers. Anything other than this is to suggest that LGBTQ+ relationships are somehow inherently unfaithful, unstable and everything else when, as anyone involved in pastoral ministry knows, heterosexual relationships can be, and are, just as messy. Let us quit the lies, friends.

    I also believe that our lack of honesty means we are only really having a debate on false grounds. Because we are saved by the life of someone fully human, I believe that our mission and witness are impeded by the ecclesial dishonesty in which we are all complicit around desire, the body and sex. As God, Christ’s mission was to be truly and fully human. To embody this true humanity, we need honesty about our lives, yet the politics our church leaders are engaged in makes this honesty impossible. How convenient for the Archbishop of York to emotionally affirm us, and how ideal for the Archbishop of Canterbury to rejoice in the possible blessing of our relationships but publicly exempt himself from ever offering such a blessing – it is simply too perfect a situation to have any real integrity. We need to know, as many have said before, what our Bishops really think – more importantly we need to know who they are!

    I have said little here about LLF, and absolutely nothing about General Synod. It is a great shame that the Archbishop of Canterbury seems to think that God will honour his loyalty to the Anglican Communion over LGBTQ+ people in England. My hope is that LLF will provide at least a route for clergy to live and love honestly – for those who have entered same sex marriages to be given back Permission to Officiate, and for blessings to happen in Church (though they have for some time illegally). In essence, neither LLF nor General Synod can be fruitful or lead the Church to where I believe God invites us, not as long as real honesty is demanded of LGBTQ+ people alone.

    So we must hope, and fight, petition, and pray – but most importantly, we must dream. One of the most powerful things about oppression is the way it limits our imaginations. Can we as LGBTQ+ people, despite the violence we have endured, still imagine a Church which is truly the Church? Can we imagine a Church which loves with the heart of Christ and stands between God’s people and the all the forces of death and violence? On a good day, I can imagine such a Church, but it is becoming more and more difficult. In her recent book Experiments in Imagining Otherwise, Lola Olufemi – a black feminist writer and academic – writes:

    ‘I belong to a legacy of those who saw what this world had to offer and refused it. Before they refused it, they fought it, and not just with words.’

    I look on our Church, and I refuse what it has to offer. This refusal seems like holy work. Instead I have a dream – one which I will pray for and labour for, one which I believe is the dream of the Almighty… it is a dream

    of a Church where all God’s people love with reckless abandon, and without fear.

    of a Church where the vocations of all are nurtured, celebrated and affirmed.

    of a Church where we see our tradition in all its truth, and diversity.

    of a Church which regains an understanding of sacrifice and self-emptying.

    of a Church certain of its mandate to speak prophetic truth to itself and the world.

    of a Church where one mega-Church in a hundred places does not have the monopoly on the Church’s resources.

    of a Church where Bishops step out of fear into courage.

    of a Church which trust deeply in the promises of God.

    of a Church set free of the ties which come from Empire and State privilege.

    of a Church confident in the power of sacraments and preaching.

    of a Church which has taken the sin of its past seriously.

    of a Church which knows the power of repentance in the heart of its institutional life.

    of a Church willing to lay down its life, that it may be born anew.

    of a Church which knows that at the last, it is answerable only to God – for how well and deep and passionately it has loved.

    Jesus did not wait for a two-thirds majority in every religious court of his day – he embodied the radical dream of God until it became manifest – and he calls us to do the same.

    I know that God has more to offer us than this, and that the heart of God rejoices in true love wherever it is found. I also believe that every power in the Church that seeks to define orthodoxy by the limits of their inclusive love will, in the end, fail. Between that time and this, there is the work of fighting and dreaming. God has more to offer us than this. For God’s sake, despite what we may be offered now – let us not set our sights too low.

     

     

     

     

  • Time for the Church to Come Out

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

    Since the draft resources for same-sex couples were published on the 21st February (GS2289) I have read a great deal of comment on them, mostly understandably critical. One important theme I have noticed is “these don’t move us forward, they just do what’s already happening.” In other words, informal prayer services (long offered by many inclusive parishes) and clergy in same-sex relationships, all just officially proclaimed rather than somewhat covert. Yes, that’s not a big change. But as every LGBTQ+ reader will know, we have an expression for making something public that has always been the case. It’s called ‘coming out’ and there’s nothing trivial about it at all.

    In my experience almost every LGBTQ+ person can remember, quite vividly, the details of their coming out, in my case to my friends at university, my family a little later, and finally to my parishioners in 2013.  The last was prompted by three things: a short relationship with a lovely man (who wisely ended it and is now happily married to someone else) which made me realise that I needed to be more open to be myself; the public debate around the Same-Sex Marriage Bill in 2012; and the decision of the House of Bishops to allow the consecration of openly gay or lesbian clergy as bishops on the same basis as ordination to the priesthood.

    The second of those had prompted a memorably difficult encounter with a couple in one parish, when I had after the service challenged the husband’s petition in the intercessions that the Same-Sex Marriage Bill “might not become law.” A tricky conversation in church led to me visiting to talk to him at home (his wife being absent without explanation). I didn’t say much about myself, but offered to discreetly include them in the distribution of the service rota so that they could avoid me if they wished, and we had a respectful discussion of Scripture and our differing views. But as I was leaving he uttered the unforgettable words, “But of course, you know my wife can never receive communion from a homosexual.” Fortunately for the wider parish, they were known for having very particular views on many things, so my explanation to the churchwardens was accepted as just another oddity about them.

    But the Bishops’ decision gave me the opportunity to write a letter to my parishioners (copied to my bishop and others) which largely set out the current state of debate in the Church of England and beyond as I saw it (I still have it, and it still makes sense!) and quietly slipping in at the end that, of course, being gay myself, this affected me directly. Responses were not loud, and there was a good deal of “we did guess, you know!” But there were a few striking responses, one from a churchwarden and his wife who then told me both about their lifelong dear gay friends, one of whom had just died, and the husband about his great passion for another boy at school. And one organist, a Northern Irish lady, who reportedly began in tears of shock and horror, and within about a day had thought about it, and proclaimed with equal fervour “he can love whoever he wants!” As with so many comings out, personal knowledge and love overcame prejudice, and I regret very much that I left it so long.

    Across the Church of England, I know there are still very many LGBTQ+ people living, and in many cases ministering, from the closet. You may be afraid of your parishes, or families, or dioceses, and for that I am most sorry. I believe, as many campaigners and celebrities have said before me (Ian McKellen springs to mind) that we are all better for coming out, whatever our situation, and I believe you will be too, for the truth will set you free. And I here place on record (feel free to spread this around) that I will personally give a bottle of champagne to any bishop who manages to come out in the LLF debate on February 8th.

    It feels to me, though, as if this is the moment when the Church of England itself, in a sense, comes out. It may be that the changes offered in GS2289 are not in themselves very substantial, and that is fair comment. But maybe, just maybe, this is the moment when we shake off the carapace of grudging bishops’ statements and captivity to a minority incapable of theological imagination. And show the Church to have been what it has always been, at least in part. Diverse, welcoming and affirming of human variety and love in all its forms, and ready to proclaim the good news of that love in Christ to our generation.

  • Being Syrophoenician: Eating the Crumbs?

    by the Very Revd Dr Mandy Ford, Dean of Bristol

    There is a terrible irony for gay clergy preaching this Sunday; for those of us observing the Third Sunday of Epiphany, the lectionary invites us to reflect on the presence of Jesus at a wedding in Cana. It is a story of God’s generosity, and a foretaste of the banquet when earth and heaven are united at the end of time – a feast to which both Jews and Gentiles will be welcome. I can see the gospel in the gospel, the good news in the good news, but I’m struggling to see this gospel at work in the Church of England just at the moment.

    Having read the House of Bishop’s proposed Prayers of Love and Faith, and the legal advice that shaped them, I feel like the Syrophoenician woman, whose entreaty for help Jesus turned away with the words “it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs”. It is rare occasion when we are taken aback by the violence of the language used by Jesus.

    Yet, despite being horribly insulted, the woman stood her ground and reproached him with self-deprecating humour, “even the dogs may eat the children’s crumbs”.

    So here we are, a crowd of Syrophoenicians, standing at the door of the wedding feast, asking for a share and being thrown the crumbs.

    And for the avoidance of doubt, these really are crumbs. While, should these prayers pass through General Synod and gain acceptance, I will be using them as creatively as I can to bless couples and celebrate their permanent, faithful and committed relationships, I will do so in the knowledge that these prayers are a very poor substitute for the sacramental, covenantal, liturgical resources offered by the Church of England for those who can enter what is now distinguished as “holy matrimony”.

    There will be many people who throw the crumbs back in the face of those who offer them and walk away. I’m not going to judge them.

    But I am going to reluctantly stand at the door and refuse to leave.

    The courage of the Syrophoenician woman and her challenge to Jesus was enough to make him repent and change his mind. She was no longer a “bitch”, a gentile “other”, to whom the doors of the Kingdom were closed, she was a beloved child of God, fully human and deserving of the flourishing that God longs to give all his children.

    There is a very real danger that some of us will read the legal advice shared with General Synod, and feel less than human. It is difficult not to do this when you are apparently being denied access to one of God’s gifts in creation, a gift given to enable us to flourish in our full humanity.

    But as a baptised child of God, I refuse to have my humanity denied by the institution I serve. I continue to believe that Jesus was as present on the day of my civil partnership as he is at every wedding to which he is invited. And I find myself, unexpectedly, strengthened in the conviction that the full sacramental riches of marriage should be generously shared with all who seek it from a Church which still wants to convince itself that it serves the whole of England.

    The story of the Syrophoenician woman is an enacted parable of the love of God which is expansive enough to include the once despised Gentiles. In responding to her request, Jesus is signposting the future of a community of great diversity who will all be invited to share in the heavenly wedding feast.

    Institutionally, we have not reached the place where we can say this unequivocally. Pragmatically, some terrible sophistry has been used in order to gather up enough crumbs to throw to the dogs. Pastorally, it will be challenging to encourage gay couples to come to church for blessing when we long to offer so much more. Politically the space in which, as a gay person I am standing, feels more toxic than at almost any time I can remember.

    So, I’m praying for the faith, the resilience and the humour of the Syrophoenician woman because Syrophoenician lives matter.

  • Wrestling for a Blessing in a Time of “Theological Nonsense”

    by Ruth Harley, curate of Watling Valley Ecumenical Partnership in the Diocese of Oxford, and co-author of ‘Being Interrupted: re-imagining the church’s mission from the outside, in’. 

    “The Blessing of a Civil Marriage of a couple… is a theological nonsense, but sometimes a pastoral necessity, while the Church’s marriage discipline is in such confusion. Theologically, we should have to say that, if a… marriage is possible and valid, the Church should be willing to celebrate it for its members. If it is not possible or valid, the Church has no business blessing it.”(1)

    This could almost have been a commentary on the proposals made in GS2289 Living in Love and Faith: a response from the Bishops of the Church of England, released on Friday ahead of General Synod. But it is not. It is the late, great Michael Perham, writing in 1984 in about the blessing of the civil marriage of couples in which one person (or both) is divorced with a former spouse still living.

    He is right, I think, to say that blessing a marriage which we will not celebrate puts the church in a position of “theological nonsense”. That was true when he wrote it almost 40 years ago about the remarriage of divorcees, and it is true now about the marriage of same-sex couples. As Perham goes on to observe, “the principal function of the priest in a marriage is to bless”. It makes little liturgical or theological sense to permit the blessing of a marriage but not the solemnisation of the marriage itself, the principal function of which is, after all, blessing.

    And yet, here we are – in the territory of “theological nonsense”. The proposals for blessing same-sex relationships are a step forward, but still a far cry from the fullness of what we hoped for, and will continue to work for: full marriage equality irrespective of the genders of the couple.

    But blessing is in itself a powerful and weighty thing. I remember the first time I raised my hand to bless someone as a priest – to pronounce God’s blessing with the authority of the church – being  taken by surprise by the physicality of that weightiness.

    Blessing is more than ‘saying a prayer’. To pray a blessing is to do something more than “to reflect the blessing of God in all creation”,  as the bishops’ response to LLF puts it (2). A blessing, as spoken liturgically in the context of divine worship by a priest, has a particularity about it. To bless is to ask and declare God’s blessing on these people and, in the case of the blessing of a marriage, this relationship. To bless is to recognise and respond to God’s presence and purpose in this specific moment and person(s) and place.

    We bless people not because they are good, but because they are God’s – and so is the blessing we proclaim. We bless in the midst of the world’s brokenness, and blessing and breaking are closely entwined in the liturgical imagination, as day by day we offer the blessed and broken body of Christ in the eucharist, and live as the blessed and broken body of Christ in the world. To bless is not to say ‘this is perfect’, but rather ‘God is in this’. To bless a loving relationship – whether that is a civil partnership or a marriage (or indeed a covenanted friendship) – is to reflect the truth that “whoever lives in love lives in God and God lives in them” (1 John 4.16).

    Blessing is a significant step in the right direction in terms of the church’s response to same-sex couples. But it is a step which leads us to not into the satisfaction and relief of resolving the situation, but rather into the turmoil and discomfort of “theological nonsense”. So just what kind of progress is this?

    Significant change – change which is paradigm-shifting – often requires the old paradigm to be destabilised before a new paradigm can be established. It is out of the destabilising “theological nonsense” in which we now find ourselves that a way forward will emerge. That is how it was with the remarriage of divorcees. As Michael Perham observed, to say that a marriage can be blessed but not solemnised by the church is an untenable position. And so a way forward was found for divorcees to marry in church.

    There are some parallels here with women’s ordination too. To say that a woman can be ordained priest but not ordained bishop is also “theological nonsense”. But it was only out of a time of living with that untenable position that the move to ordain women to all orders of ministry eventually emerged.

    We long for a conclusion, a resolution, for the theological and pastoral good sense of full equality for all, irrespective of sexuality or gender identity. This week it may feel like we are still so far from that goal. The proposals before Synod are like a discordant note, still awaiting the final, resolving, chord. But we should not underestimate the power of blessing. It is a significant thing, both in its own right, and as a means of showing up the “theological nonsense” of denying equal marriage to same-sex couples for what it is.

    Dwelling in this in-between time, this now-and-not-yet in which the “theological nonsense” of the status quo is revealed but not yet resolved, will be hard and painful for many of us. We are blessed, and yet still wrestling for a blessing. The church will emerge from this wrestling, this time of “theological nonsense”, both broken and blessed, as the body of Christ always is. For now, we limp on together.

     

    (1) Michael Perham, Liturgy Pastoral and Parochial (SPCK, 1984), p. 104.

    (2) GS2289 Living in Love and Faith: a response from the Bishops of the Church of England, p. 6.

  • Bread or a Stone?

    by Revd Neil Patterson and Professor Helen King, Chair and Vice-Chair of the Gender & Sexuality Group on General Synod

    Throughout the slow and painful progress of debate about same-sex relationships in the Church of England, we have both often reflected on the parallels with the even longer battle for the ordination of women. In that struggle there were perhaps four decisive moments in General Synod:

    1975 – Synod agrees that there is no theological objection, but declines to prepare legislation.

    1978 – Synod again declines to prepare legislation, and Una Kroll cries from the gallery, ‘we asked for bread, but you gave us a stone!’

    1985 – Legislation begins, but Archbishop Runcie abstains, and the Women Ordained Abroad Measure falls after being controversially designated Article 7 business, but women deacons are approved.

    1992 –  Final Approval for women priests.

    The question we have asked ourselves is – in the aftermath of LLF, are we in some equivalent place on the timeline, and if so, where? For some in the Church of England, we haven’t yet reached 1975, as they raise theological objections based on Bible passages that are highly disputed in terms of both their translation and relevance. The Genesis story of a man and a woman (and a talking snake) has been made to bear more weight than this powerful story about human weakness was ever intended to carry. It has certainly often felt as if we are in 1978, with progress deadlocked, and the possibility of meaningful change endlessly thwarted. However, with the publication of the House of Bishops paper (GS2289 Living in Love and Faith: A response from the Bishops of the Church of England) it feels as if we may be close to 1985, and this is why.

    Firstly, we are definitely not there yet. Whatever the merits or otherwise of the proposals tabled by the House of Bishops, we are both clear that the only logical and just conclusion of these debates is for marriage in church to be once again open to all couples who may marry in law, just as it was before the passage of the Same-Sex Marriage Act (with an honourable exception for the largely forgotten Deceased Wife’s Sister’s Marriage Act of 1907).  That would be the equivalent of 1992 (or perhaps even 2014, when women bishops were finally agreed).

    Second, we need to be realistic about this Synod, and the Church it represents. We are not of one mind, and that’s true even within the ‘progressive’ or the ‘conservative’ wing. We may hold the same view as someone else, but for a very different reason. That happened with women’s ordination too, as it united in opposition those who wanted union with Rome and those who found that prospect abhorrent. We believe that conservatives are currently overrepresented in Synod, but we know there are also lots of ‘unconverted’ people.

    Synod is not a good place to be when the stakes are high. Expect to see a range of cards being played: emotion, personal stories of pain, standing orders being invoked and amendments tabled. We need our Archbishops to speak calm into the debating chamber.

    As we say, there are definite parallels with now and 1985. We are held back by the technicalities of the Synod process, just as the Women Ordained Abroad Measure fell because it was designated Article 7 business, and so the required majorities were not reached. Just as Archbishop Runcie abstained on the women priests legislation, Archbishop Welby has declared that he will not actually use the new prayers for same-sex couples himself. It seems that the ability to nail one’s colours to the fence is an occupational requirement at Canterbury. But we do have proposals for definite change, and they are progress.

    When the measure to permit women deacons was passed, there was some discussion of whether this would change our view of the diaconate, making it a distinctive role rather than a stepping stone to priesthood. Some women felt called to a permanent diaconate, and this role for both men and women remains, at least in some dioceses. Some members of Synod voting for women to be able to be ordained as deacons would not vote for women priests. Some resisted the measure entirely, and argued that women deacons were the ‘thin end of the wedge’, a back-door route to women as priests. Similarly, some in Synod will be comfortable with blessing same-sex committed relationships, but would not want to regard these as marriages, while others will be swayed by the thin end of the wedge argument.

    What women deacons did was to show people that women could perform all aspects of ordained ministry; except celebrating Holy Communion. Deaconesses could not officiate at marriages: deacons could, and can. Seeing women for the first time in such roles represented the real change. When the Deacons (Ordination of Women) Measure came to the House of Commons in October 1986, the Second Church Estates Commissioner Sir William van Straubenzee observed that “The major function which deaconesses cannot perform at present and which differentiates them from the deacons is officiation at a marriage. I suspect that the famous man or woman in the pew would be hard-pressed to say what the difference in function is.” Deacons were also able to be appointed in charge of a parish and, where they were, their pastoral ministry often dissolved opposition.

    We are aware that many are disappointed with the proposals, and may feel that Synod should reject them as we did the paper GS2055 in 2017. We disagree, as that would leave us no further forward than we were then, with no realistic prospect of moving again. We would have liked to see more boldness, particularly about future change towards marriage. The actual motion laid before Synod is rich in bromide and weak in action. But in spite of all that, it is substantially the step forward asked for by the Hereford Motion and Mae Christie’s PMM. And a strong vote in favour by Synod will strengthen the arms of those bishops determined to see revised guidelines in place which allow clergy to freely enter same-sex marriages.

    But even more importantly, the new commended services will enable thousands of ordinary parishes, unsure how to respond to same-sex couples, to say, ‘No, we can’t marry you in law, but we can pray “Pour out the abundance of your grace upon N and N in their new life together.” Let’s start talking about hymns and music.’ And so across the country more and more Anglicans will see same-sex couples seeking God’s blessing on their love and commitment, and find that it is a beautiful and good thing in God’s sight.

  • Time to Step Up and Take the Heat: Allyship or Cowardice?

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

    Over the last few days the official Twitter account for the Lambeth conference has sprung into action again with various quotes from bishops – and other well-meaning contributors – about how excellent the whole experience was, all starting with “I’m giving thanks for the Lambeth Conference…” But it’s fair to say that the Lambeth Conference was not without controversy.

    One of those delights came well before the ill-fated attempts to include Lambeth I.10 and its homophobia into proceedings: it was the denial of invitations to spouses of bishops who happened to be of the same sex. While all active bishops were invited, with their spouses, this hospitality wasn’t extended to same-sex spouses.

    The former Secretary General of the Anglican Communion, Bishop Josiah Idowu-Fearon, spelled it out just in case we hadn’t got the drift: ‘it would be inappropriate for same-sex spouses to be invited to the conference’. And that was that.

    Despite pressure to relent (and, dare I say, repent), the Archbishop of Canterbury and his acolytes remained firm – no same-sex spouses allowed. Of course, this created a huge headache for the University of Kent, and it is somewhat inconceivable that that body would want to host another conference in the future that took such a rabidly and visibly homophobic position in who it invites, let alone in what it discusses. All, as ever, in the name of unity; and all, ultimately, damaging and somewhat pointless. In the end, a number of same-sex spouses were invited and housed – free of charge – by the university, there was a pride march and the presence of the same-sex spouses was celebrated by those present who didn’t find the need to throw gay people under the bus for the sake of spurious unity claims.

    The official homophobia, however, does not come without cost. The husband of the Bishop of Toronto put it acutely, and painfully:

    “I’d been out for 30 years. This was the first time I had been subject to such discrimination since then, and it felt very personal. I felt like a teenager having to navigate my sexuality all over again.”

    Hardly the life in all its fullness that the church claims to offer, however hospitable individual bishops and their spouses, and the university, might have been.

    And yet this sorry (and entirely avoidable) episode highlighted something which, as we move towards February and whatever is ‘offered’ by the bishops, becomes ever more important – the idea of good allyship. The sad reality is that, for all the warm words, the church is lagging behind on this in a very big way.

    Allyship is not that difficult to understand, or even to support, at least in principle. Put simply, it requires those who are not victims of oppression to stand shoulder to shoulder, in solidarity, with those who are. It requires them to recognise their own power and privilege, and use it to build up, rather than cast down. It requires them to listen, rather than find the need to talk all the time. It requires them to amplify the voices of the voiceless.

    And yet it comes at a cost, and time and again we have seen that those who profess the warm words are infrequently willing to take the fall. It requires allies to take just a hint of the heat that the oppressed might feel, and yet we know – from bitter experience – that allyship becomes a performative dance rather than a concrete reality. The time for this charade to end is now.

    It’s not only in the structural oppression of LGBTQI people that this matters – it matters too for the continued oppression of people of colour, of women, of the disabled, and of anyone who faces ongoing hostility, however benignly disguised, of the institutional church. Yet a very brief glimpse over the recent history of LGBTQI oppression shows a huge number of examples of where allyship is ‘this far, but no further’ – the point of ‘no further’ so often aligning with the point where it might demand a real cost from alleged allies.

    To return to the Lambeth Conference, it is a scandal that straight people who call themselves allies were willing to participate in the openly exclusionary spouses programme, whether as speakers or as participants themselves. There are surely exceptions to this – those who were public about their discomfort but felt better able to challenge the oppression within rather than without, or those who went having openly consulted with their LGBTQI counterparts. But in reality, how often did this happen?

    We see it, too, in the way that ‘supportive’ straight people far too often drop back at the last moment, before it might cost them the honorary canonry in a cathedral, or a place at the top table, or the ‘respect and thanks’ of the diocesan bishop. We see it when straight ‘allies’ at a diocesan conference are willing to miss sexuality off the list of things of which the church should repent, because it’s ‘too difficult’. Too difficult for who, exactly?

    And we see it in the writing of bishops who – whilst unusually willing to actually have an opinion on this – nonetheless ‘commit to abiding by whatever decision is made’ on LGBTQI people by their colleagues. So far, but not too far. LGBTQI people are important, but not that important.

    Little of this is genuine allyship – it is a willingness to be brave just up to the point where you might have to face the consequences, and at that point to throw LGBTQI people back in the lions’ den. However it is dressed up – as a need to be a ‘focus of unity’ [sic], as respect for due process, as wanting to ‘work more from the inside’, or as the need for ‘more time’ – all of these have another name: cowardice. And this is a moral cowardice built squarely on the backs of LGBTQI people – a cowardice with consequences.

    Now that’s not to say there aren’t serious and genuine allies in the church, who are willing to go to the wall for their oppressed friends. But it is a call to those who profess to support us to look into their own hearts and ask whether they are really willing to take the fall for us? Are they willing to educate themselves? Are they willing to take our place when the disciplinary is launched or when licenses are threatened? Are we really worth it?

    Just imagine if bishops were committed to being true allies. Imagine if the Archbishop of Canterbury was. Imagine how prophetic it would be if actions actually aligned with words.

    Allies are the way that battles are won, that systematic oppression is dismantled and that life changes for those at the receiving end of oppressive structures. Allies are those who come alongside and who recognise that the imago Dei in each and every person demands a response, and not just nice rhetoric. Allies are those who might encourage the LGBTQI clergy who have ‘managed OK’ and who don’t want to ‘rock the boat’ to raise their heads above the parapet and be counted too.

    Rhetoric and words mean very little, if we’re not willing to see them through. The test is coming for those who profess to be true friends of LGBTQI people. Will you rise to the challenge? We – and surely God too – are watching.

     

     

  • Another Year Gone: What’s Wrong with the Church of England?

    by Helen King, Professor Emerita in Classical Studies at The Open University, authorised lay preacher, member of General Synod and vice-chair of its Gender & Sexuality Group

    As another calendar year draws to a close, and those who make resolutions write them down, it seems like a good time to ask my headline question. Your answer to it may  revolve around the Living in Love and Faith process, as well it might. What’s wrong with the Church of England? The abuse by some of our number of those who don’t fit the male white cis-het model? Being obsessed with peripheral matters? (I’m not a fan of Twitter posts showing the clergy in their swankiest rose vestments for Advent 3). Having a total disregard for what is good in the society in which we are placed? Going too far in accommodating our message to that society? Not being sufficiently faithful to whatever we see as the central message of the Bible? But I’d like to take this question back further and reflect on what I see as the four ‘oppositions’ which I think lie behind many other aspects of the Church of England today; and none of them is conservative/progressive, because I think the problems run far deeper.

    This blog post is stimulated by something I was doing back in September, when I was invited by those running a church committee I’m on to offer my reflections after joining it. I did as they suggested, although I’ve heard nothing from them since. Was I too forthright? Or was it all too obvious? The four oppositions I offered there, and have developed here, are all ones which I think about in other aspects of my life and work, too. They are binaries, but could also be spectrums, if we accept that both of the poles are equally important and that much lies in between, rather than prioritising one term over the other.

    The first would be access vs excellence. As someone with Open University experience, I strongly believe in access to any sort of education or training or anything else being entirely open. You don’t need any previous exam passes to start an Open University degree. Similarly, I believe that baptism should be freely offered to anyone asking for it; think of the Ethiopian eunuch, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” (Acts 8:36). And yet we hear of churches where the child of a couple who are same-sex isn’t welcomed to baptism… While baptism ‘courses’ should be offered to those who would find them helpful, they shouldn’t be compulsory. Yet only once have I been at a C of E service at which the bishop asked if anyone else in the congregation would like to be baptised on the spot… but I thought that was a really Scriptural invitation!

    In churches, access should continue after baptism as we want everyone to feel welcome, to be able to join in. That means being accessible to people of all ages, every class, every race, every gender identity or sexuality. But we need to know where the barriers to participation lie before we think about how to overcome them. That’s difficult because the people whose views we need to hear may well be those who aren’t in the room. There can be little more depressing than a group of middle-class people discussing how to attract more working-class church members; unless it’s a group of straight people and same-sex attracted people who think they must never have a sexual relationship, discussing lesbian and gay people in committed sexual relationships (that was rather how the process of writing the Living in Love and Faith book felt).

    At the other end of things, there’s the need to enable everyone to be their very best self. That may mean encouraging or even pushing them. Sure, open the choir to everyone, but there’s nothing wrong with training; with expecting choir members to join in rehearsals! And that applies everywhere else too. Those preaching need opportunities to think about what a sermon is for. Everyone helping in the Sunday School needs to do the safeguarding training, not just the leaders. Access is not the end of the matter. And we need to go further still; we need to think about how to recognise and honour excellence. That means transparency in finding out who is outstanding, and encouraging them to go even further. We shouldn’t be afraid of excellence and we should be ready to recognise it in anyone, not just those who turn up with all the advantages already, or those who fit our expectations about what sort of person would make a good preacher or a good welcomer. What if you’re a woman in a church with a ‘complementarian’ position where you would never be allowed to preach, let alone to lead? How is your excellence to be encouraged? And who is going to do this work of discernment?

    The second is local vs national, and that one seems to me to be the key fact about the Church of England’s dual identity which we rarely face. General Synod may make some decisions but, back in their dioceses, bishops rule. The Church of England may declare a national policy, for example on maternity leave for clergy, but does that mean every diocese follows it? I think you can guess the answer to that. If you challenge any instance where something isn’t done consistently they’ll cite ‘subsidiarity’ or ‘local context’ – both highly important, although dioceses often contain a mixture of rural areas and large urban centres, areas of poverty and pockets of wealth, so claims that they need to do things differently from the next diocese along fail to convince. But we are a national church, and the implicit assumption that people grow up and develop within just one diocese doesn’t really wash any more. So, what happens when those people move house? For example, is it right for one diocese to have its own lay training scheme, or should this be centralised? Does ‘local ordained ministry’ make any sense? In a recent case, someone on the Reader pathway in one diocese moved, and found that the new diocese would not support them because of their sexuality – which hadn’t been seen as an issue in the previous diocese. What is best done at a local level? Who decides?

    The third opposition, and this one is really obvious, is lay vs ordained. Going by my own experience, if you are in a middle-of-the-road Anglican parish church and you go to see your vicar to say that you are feeling that you are being called to something new but aren’t sure what, the default assumption is that this must be ordained ministry. I wasn’t comfortable with that assumption but agreed to work with a spiritual director for a while. She affirmed my calling to be lay. But the assumption persists that the ordained ministry is the ‘gold standard’ and everything else is a mere shadow of it, and this is one reason why not getting through the selection process leaves people so badly bruised. In the last few years there have been various Grand Schemes in the C of E; ‘Renewal and Reform’, ‘Vision and Strategy’, the ‘Transforming Effectiveness agenda’ and so on. These involve throwing large numbers around (10,000 new lay-led worshipping communities, 3000 new paid leaders of work with children and young people).

    I remain unconvinced about these plans. Leaving aside what I see as the dubious wisdom of embarking on all this when numbers have still not returned to pre-pandemic levels, and when we can’t get enough volunteers for existing roles, where will these lay leaders come from? And what will they be allowed to do? In a conservative evangelical church where women can’t lead, will women be among these new lay leaders, or is it only men – and straight men at that – who will lead? How will they be trained? Locally? Nationally? What are the safeguarding implications? Meanwhile at the same time as the C of E is discussing expanding lay ministries, it is also piloting schemes to fast-track people to ordination. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to decide what we mean by laity and clergy before doing any of this?

    And that brings me to speed vs depth. The C of E doesn’t usually ‘do’ speed. Look at the long process culminating in ordaining women, or the decades spent on producing various reports on sexuality. At the moment, though, speed suddenly seems to be OK when it comes to training as a priest. I’ve heard from someone whose church hosted a person who’d done one of the new one-year ordination schemes and who was very happy with this; so, maybe it can work, although it’s early days. The language I’ve seen in C of E papers is that of ordaining ‘seasoned saints’ (we do love our alliteration, don’t we?). I would like more assurance that this isn’t shorthand for ‘people like us’. But, in any case, is this sufficient formation? I remember about 20 years ago when a friend was accepted for ordination quite late in life, and was allowed the two-year training, that he said this was the one chance he and his wife had to gain the depth which would sustain them.

    And are we ordaining people mainly so that communion services can continue, because since the Parish Communion Movement it’s all been about communion? (I’m old enough to have grown up with Mattins) Paradoxically, this ‘keeping the show on the road’ mentality can also lie behind encouraging lay leadership: one published report into lay ministry suggested that the laity were being seen as “a new source of voluntary help in maintaining existing patterns of public worship and associated activities”. Have we yet gone beyond that to appreciate lay ministry in a more distinctive, more positive way? My own parish is in interregnum at the moment and is fine as far as services go, not least because we have three retired clergy and a team vicar who are sharing them out. But there is so much more to church than services!

    For me, when the normally slow C of E suddenly decides to move quickly, as in one-year ordination courses, alarm bells ring (because, normally, “Like a mighty tortoise/Moves the Church of God”, etc). I’m even more worried when the people sent on the ‘cheaper’ training options or expected to end up in self-supporting (i.e. unpaid) ministry tend to be women.

    So: access vs excellence, local vs national, lay vs ordained, speed vs depth. Do you agree that these are the four oppositions, or spectrums, behind a lot of our discussions? And would it advance those discussions if we were able to bring them up to the surface and address them directly?