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Category: Lambeth Conference

  • The Wholly Unnecessary Split in the Anglican Communion: A View from ‘Down Under’

    by Revd Dr Keith Mascord, a Canadian-born Australian. He is retired – most recently from managing the NSW multi-faith prison chaplaincy team. He is an Anglican priest assisting at St John’s Anglican Parish in Taree, in country NSW, and an academic who taught philosophy and pastoral theology at Moore Theological College in Sydney. He is an advocate, and a co-founder of the LGBTIQ+ support group – Equal Voices Australia. He traces his intellectual and spiritual journey in a now completed set of three books: A Restless Faith (2012), Faith without Fear (2016) and An Honest Faith (2025)

    It was a deeply disturbing moment when, on 16 October 2025, a communiqué was posted by Gafcon (the Global Anglican Futures movement) which declared, ‘The future has arrived.’ In what, effectively, was an attempted coup, the Anglican Communion – founded as a fellowship of independent dioceses in 1867 – was declared to have been overtaken by Gafcon. In its own words, ‘We have not left the Anglican Communion. We are [my emphasis] the Anglican Communion.’ ‘Gafcon is [now] leading the Global Anglican Communion.’

    These are audacious claims. The argument of the communiqué was that the formerly constituted Anglican Communion had ‘failed to uphold the doctrine and discipline of the Anglican Communion,’ and, as a result, its four instruments of communion (the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lambeth Conference, the Anglican Consultative Council, and the Primates Meeting) were being replaced by just one – the Bible.

    My discomfort with this news was heightened by discovering where this communiqué had been penned – in Sydney – and by whom. Though signed by Rwanda’s Archbishop Dr Laurent Mbanda, its wording was, I’m informed, a combined effort by a number of the movement’s leaders and ‘founding fathers’ including the former Archbishop of Sydney, Dr Peter Jensen. Peter was my Archbishop during his tenure. Before that, he was my employer, principal and colleague at Moore Theological College where I taught for fifteen years all up. I thus have more than a little interest in what is happening, along with a degree of insider/outsider perspective.

    Hermeneutics

    A few things stood out for me in the communique. The first was the critical role of hermeneutics, which is the science or art of interpretation. The communiqué cites the abandonment of the inerrant Scriptures as the reason for earlier calls for repentance, and for now withdrawing from communion with ‘revisionist’ Anglicans.

    The more I think about it, the more startled I am by this. When I was a student and, later, a lecturer at Moore, only some of the faculty subscribed to inerrancy, with most preferring infallibility or trustworthiness. Not all of the current faculty at Moore adhere to inerrancy. The same applies at the similarly conservative Ridley College in Melbourne.

    Some years ago, at a School of Theology at Moore College, a student publicly asked Archbishop Peter, ‘Don’t you think it is time we gave up on inerrancy?’ Peter’s reply: ‘No, we must not give up on it because of what it safeguards.’ It is a telling reply, which implies an acknowledgement of inerrancy’s weakness as a position. It certainly is that. On the one hand, inerrancy is an unprovable and un-Biblical faith position, especially in the absence of the Bible’s original documents (the autographs), if indeed there ever were such. On the other hand, inerrancy is easy enough to disprove. Anyone who has read and studied the Bible for any length of time, with even a little knowledge of Biblical scholarship, is likely to have encountered inaccuracies, contradictions, anachronisms, contrasting and revising theologies, remnants of polytheism, doubtful claims to authorship, and much more.

    Not so plain sense

    Exacerbating this hermeneutical hurdle is Gafcon’s insistence on a ‘plain sense’ reading of the Bible. The communique is insistent that the Holy Bible must be ‘translated, read, preached, taught and obeyed in its plain and canonical sense, respectful of the church’s historic and consensual reading.’ Neither the communiqué, nor the Jerusalem Declaration from which it draws, explains the meaning of these terms. With respect to a plain sense reading, one could well ask, ‘Whose plain sense reading?’ Is it the plain sense reading of an ancient reader, for example, someone well versed in the mythology of those days and of the Bible, and thus not likely to be differentiating between the mythical and the literal? Or is it what seems to be the plain sense to a 21st century reader influenced by modernist and, before that, Lutheran tendencies to read the Biblical stories as straightforwardly factual – including the Adam and Eve, Noah, Patriarchal, Exodus and Conquest stories, which we’ve good reason to believe are mythical and/or legendary.

    Returning to the notion of inerrancy, and yoking it to a plain sense approach, what might a Gafcon Anglican make of St Paul’s apparently plain sense understanding of Genesis 1-3, where an initially deathless and vegetarian creation (Gen 1:26, 27) has death introduced to it by the sins of Adam and Eve? If, as I surmise, ‘canonical’ has been added to ‘plain sense’ to prioritise the interpretation of Scripture by Scripture, this doesn’t help. In fact, it sharpens the conundrum. A plain sense, canonical reading of Romans 5:12-19, which also takes account of how these verses have been understood historically/consensually, flies in the face of current scientific understandings of human and animal origins.

    These are hard and important questions to ask of Gafcon’s hermeneutic. It is questions like these that sent me on a quest to find a hermeneutic that might more helpfully and honestly illuminate the Scriptures. In time, this led me to a hermeneutic, which perhaps surprisingly is not dissimilar to the Second Temple Judaic hermeneutic employed by Jesus and the authors of the New Testament, a way of appropriating Biblical texts, which, in principle, is responsive to new information and experience. I spell this out in detail in Faith without Fear (2016) and An Honest Faith (2025).

    Hard lessons still to be learnt

    Looking back, I am not aware of having been guilty of intellectual or moral failings in this long quest to find improved ways of reading and understanding the Bible. Nor do I think that increasing numbers of evangelical scholars have been irrational or immoral in employing or revising their hermeneutic to arrive at what they consider better conclusions about same-sex marriage. There is therefore no need, I believe, for repentance on their or my part.

    There is, however, more than enough reason for repentance for the two and more millennia-long misunderstanding and mistreatment of our precious LGBTIQ+ siblings. And, tellingly, it is hermeneutics or Biblical interpretation which has been a significant culprit in this abuse. Almost all of the great theologians of the church have, in one way or another, accepted what they took to be plainly taught in the Bible. They have allowed Scripture to interpret Scripture. They have come to similar, now historic, and apparently consensual conclusions. In doing this they have reasoned that women are inferior to men (Luther), that women are ‘defective and misbegotten’ (Aquinas), that they have been ‘born to obey’ and not to lead, with the leadership of women ‘an unnatural monstrosity’ (Calvin). They have, moreover, interpreted Leviticus and St Paul to imply that homosexuality condemns those who rebelliously choose it to be given over to passions that are satanic and to lives that are diabolic, such that they are worse than murderers (Chrysostom), with a vice believed to be ‘an un-paralleled enormity’ (Luther), so unnatural and so evil that they deserve to be banished ‘from all shelter of the church’ (Tertullian). And that is just a sampling of historic Christianity’s vitriol.

    Sadly, some of these ideas linger in dioceses aligned with Gafcon, with Sydney Anglicans still stubbornly restricting the ministry of women, and some African dioceses perpetuating views not dissimilar to those mentioned above. Happily, however, views like this are in retreat with most Anglicans, certainly here in Australia, and including Gafconites. They may not be willing to admit it, but their revised understandings have not been solely guided by their espoused hermeneutic. They have, in fact, had their readings and understandings modified by encounters with equally capable female leaders and preachers and by the thoroughly natural and healthy lives of our LGBTIQ+ fellow citizens. They’ve seen that the children of gay parents are doing as well psychologically and socially as children brought up more traditionally. They’ve witnessed the joy experienced by same sex couples when mutual love can come to full flowering in the blessing of marriage. They’ve seen the deep piety and strong faith of their LGBTIQ+ fellow Christians. They know that arguments against same-sex marriage are weakening, that Moses probably didn’t write Leviticus, that the exegesis of key Pauline passages is contested, that the hermeneutic they’ve relied upon ‘because of what it protects’ is fragile. They know all this, or should. And, deep down perhaps, they know or suspect that their ‘you must repent’ rhetoric is a log in their own eyes preventing them from seeing that it is they who need to repent, at the very least for the disrespect and hubris involved in failing to acknowledge the integrity, love and sincerity of those with whom they differ.

    In writing this article, I reached out to a number of the high profile leaders of the Gafcon movement, including the board of Gafcon-Australia, all but one of whom had taught, worked, or been trained at Moore Theological College. The exception was trained at Ridley. I sought to engage them with the ideas that are now expressed in this article. I was seeking to better understand their movement. Sadly, not one was willing to engage. Was it fear? Was it pride? Was I being cancelled? I don’t know. I will keep trying. My hope and prayer is that Gafcon’s attempted takeover will fail, that the resultant disunity, suspicion and silencing will cease, and that true and humble Christian fellowship will return, strengthened by a willingness to keep learning together.

     

     

  • Alternative ‘Anglican Ordinations’ – A Crucial Question

    by Canon Dr Phil Groves, who was a CMS Mission partner and lecturer in theology at St Philip’s Kongwa in Tanzania. He served at the Anglican Communion Office for 10 years. He has attended two Lambeth Conferences, three Primates’ Meetings and four ACCs. He has a PhD on Partnership in the Anglican Communion. He is dyslexic and a member of the Church of England’s Neurodiversity Working Group.

    Andrew Atherstone’s account of the ‘ordination’ – more on those quotation marks later – of seven ‘missionary clergy’ as deacons by Bishop Martin Morrison of the Reformed Evangelical Anglican Church of South Africa leaves a crucial question unasked and unanswered.

    Andrew is impressed and excited by the event. These ‘seven deacons’, he says, ‘have launched a grand experiment, designed to stress-test a prototype pipeline’. We are told this is a ‘bold beginning’.

    There are many things we are not told. We don’t know anything about the seven, except that they have had extensive training and would not accept an ordination pathway through the Church of England. We don’t know where they are serving, or if they are paid or self-funding. We don’t know to whom they are responsible for safeguarding. The Church of England authorities were given one day’s notice. Only 150 were present – presumably to limit the danger of a leak.

    In contrast to the openness and publicity around the ordination season in the Church of England, this is all so cloak and dagger – why? No one was going to rush in and stop the event. No one would be arrested.

    However, the crucial question neither asked nor answered by Atherton is if all of them were men. And what is not said in his blog about gender is vital for the future of the movement.

    This is relevant to those quotation marks around the word ‘ordination’. We are told that ‘the service was entirely under the auspices of REACH SA’, but the Handbook of Procedures of REACH SA is very specific: deacons are not ordained – they are ‘made’. By ‘ordaining’ deacons Bishop Morrison has broken with the polity of his church. Deacons remain laity in REACH SA; they are ‘made’ not ‘ordained.’

    REACH SA is clear on this distinction because women as well as men can be ‘made’ deacons even though it is not permissible for them to lead worship, or preach in church services (unless all present are women). Women cannot be ordained in REACH SA.

    In the polity of REACH SA, full-time ‘lady-workers’ may become ‘lady deacons’, following lengthy training and discernment and as such they will be able to be ‘used (sic) to read lessons, lead the singing or assist in other ways during Church services.’ There is no requirement in the Handbook that men who want to be deacons are in full-time ministry.

    This is in stark contrast to lay men who may be used to lead services, preach, and, in exceptional circumstances, to conduct a Baptism service or a Holy Communion service. Get your heads around that: ‘lady deacons’ can only lead the singing, lay men can baptise and preside.

    Ordination is only for men as presbyters. As presbyters they are leaders in the church.

    REACH SA seeks to reassure us that the reasoning behind this ‘is not an issue of chauvinism or dismissiveness or even unfair discrimination but arises out of theological reflection on God’s order in His world and Paul’s instructions to Timothy (1 Timothy 2:11f).’ The readers of this blog are unlikely to be convinced. It is by the fruits that we know them, not by fine words, and the result is misogyny.

    The question that Andrew Atherstone seems to avoid asking or answering is whether this action is simply about objections to the changes under LLF, or whether it reflects a deeper desire for a church that also removes women from any form of leadership.

    I suspect that there is an internal agenda in play here. This is not just a step on the journey for a unified movement, but perhaps a statement of intent from a branch of that movement seeking to control the internal agenda of the Alliance. There are those who seem to want the emerging church to define gender roles on complementarian principles. REACH SA considers this a first order issue just as much as their opposition to equal marriage, and so must those supporting these ‘ordinations’.

    I can’t see how any deacons of REACH SA can be in full communion with any women priests and bishops even if they agree on equal marriage.

    This leads me to wonder where this leaves those who would have once described themselves as ‘open evangelicals’ who are open to women in leadership, but not to equal marriage. Are they being pushed to the side?

    I can’t see how this alliance can hold.

     

  • Some Things You Never Forget

    by Canon Dr Phil Groves, who was a CMS Mission partner and lecturer in theology at St Philip’s Kongwa in Tanzania. He served at the Anglican Communion Office for 10 years. He has attended two Lambeth Conferences, three Primates’ Meetings and four ACCs. He has a PhD on Partnership in the Anglican Communion. He is dyslexic and a member of the Church of England’s Neurodiversity Working Group.

    For me, one of those moments you never forget was the Dar es Salaam Primates’ Meeting in 2007. It was my first Primates’ Meeting, and I was there to present my report on the “Listening Process on human sexuality.”

    In those days, national newspapers still sent correspondents to cover these meetings, and more than one journalist told me they expected something I said would be the spark that ignited an explosion. No pressure, then!

    When it was time for me to report, the Secretary General sat next to me. I think he intended to offer support, but I could feel him trembling. I could smell his anxiety. I had to tune him out and focus on Archbishop Rowan, who at least looked calm—though I bet he wasn’t.

    Fortunately, I was on home ground. I had lived in Tanzania for six years and had loved every minute of the event so far. The host, Archbishop Donald Mtetemela, was someone I had known for years, and he asked me to help welcome the primates, as he was recovering from malaria. This gave me the chance to befriend almost all of them—most of whom I already knew. I could translate for them, delighting in the chance to speak Kiswahili again.

    Two Archbishops, however, remained unreachable. The Archbishops of Uganda and Nigeria had withdrawn from all social events, worship, and meals. They were essentially living in another part of the hotel, surrounded by a group of mostly white advisors. Archbishop Orombi of Uganda was an old friend—I had once served on his evangelism team for a year—and he gave me a cheery smile. Archbishop Akinola, meanwhile, was reportedly in bed with a headache, which, I admit, came as something of a relief.

    When I was called to speak, I took a breath and charted the progress—such as it was—of the Listening Process across the Communion. I made it clear that the responsibility for responding to Lambeth I.10 was not mine, but theirs. I was simply there to monitor and assist.

    We then discussed a proposed book for the upcoming Lambeth Conference. To everyone’s surprise, the conversation was not only polite, but positive. Both Archbishop Mounir and Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori requested a chapter on the “science” of human attraction. Interestingly, they did so for completely opposite reasons—each believing the evidence would support their view. I hated that chapter, and the “science” proved nothing. But at least they agreed on something.

    Things seemed to be going well—until the Archbishop of Congo, Fidèle Dirokpa, asked to speak. He said he didn’t understand the problem. To him, gays were like any other sinners—no different from thieves or murderers—and we should reach out to them the same way.

    Unless you’re a prison chaplain, you may never have met a murderer. But if you’re from eastern DRC, you might have met a few. Dirokpa was being generous: even murderers can repent and be part of the Church—so why not gays? It seemed so obvious to him, he couldn’t understand why we weren’t all in agreement. Let them repent and fully include them. The response wasn’t anger, but silence.

    Later, Katharine Jefferts Schori would describe this moment as her “low point” of the entire Meeting—despite enduring a session where she had to be defended by other primates from quite personal attacks.

    Dirokpa was puzzled. He was surprised his words found no support. Even his close friend, the Archbishop of Burundi—who had translated for him, since he didn’t speak English—offered no backing.

    After the meeting, Dirokpa—knowing I spoke Kiswahili—pulled me aside. We huddled in a hotel lounge. He wanted to know why his words had fallen flat. Like many African church leaders, he had never knowingly met a gay person. Of course, he had met many gay people, but dominant homophobia in post-colonial African culture ensures that LGBTQI+ individuals often hide—even from themselves.

    This was my job: to enable people in the Church to listen to LGBTQI+ individuals. They didn’t need to agree or disagree—just hear. I wasn’t speaking for anyone, just helping mostly straight Christian leaders open their ears.

    A couple of hours later, he was ready to “listen to the experience of homosexual persons,” and I believe he did take future opportunities to listen and learn. I don’t think he ever accepted same-sex marriage or blessings as right for the Church, but he didn’t campaign for the removal of TEC from the Communion, nor—so far as I know—did he support the criminalisation of gay people. He embraced tolerance, and tolerance is the first step. Without it, we cannot move toward acceptance or celebration.

    I learned that we must keep offering opportunities to listen, rather than take offence and walk away.

    This was echoed by another conversation on the other side of the lounge that same evening. Bishop Jefferts Schori was in deep conversation with the Bishop of Central Tanganyika, one of the largest evangelical dioceses in East Africa—Bishop Mdimi Mohogolo.

    I first met Mohogolo in 1992 and used to play squash with his son (who always beat me). In 1997, he was part of the planning group for the Lambeth Conference and was one of those confronted by ‘Outrage!’ activists in the gardens of Lambeth Palace. After returning to Tanzania, he visited our house and talked about the encounter.

    His words to me have stayed with me:

    “I would much rather have our poverty than your gays.”

    These words were chilling. The poverty in Central Tanzania was and remains devastating. It kills. It is a curse. If you’ve never lived amidst poverty like that, you can’t imagine it. Yet the wonderful gay friends I had from school and university were, to him, a deeper curse.

    And yet—ten years later—this same man was in deep conversation with the Presiding Bishop of TEC, offering support. He advocated for ongoing relationships with TEC within the Tanzanian House of Bishops. Though once an ally of the conservative bloc, particularly through ties with the Diocese of Sydney, he had been on a journey. He had met gay and lesbian Christians, and he had learned tolerance. Again, I never heard him support the blessing of same-sex unions, but he led his diocese into meaningful relationships with TEC—partnerships that bore fruit on both sides. He was instrumental in the majority of Tanzanian bishops rejecting GAFCON.

    To equate being gay with being a murderer—or to see it as a deeper curse than life-threatening poverty—is to dehumanise and diminish an entire group of people. It contradicts the agreed statement of the Primates at Dromantine:

    “The victimisation or diminishment of human beings whose affections happen to be ordered towards people of the same sex is anathema to us.”

    When you dehumanise, you open the door to criminalisation.

    The way forward is to listen to LGBTQI+ people as friends. Then “homosexuality” ceases to be an “issue”—first order or otherwise.

    If you dehumanise a whole group, you can justify their criminalisation. “Homosexuality” becomes a curse to be eliminated. That is what has happened in Nigeria. Western advocates once told the press that the Archbishop there quietly opposed the anti-gay law. But in Dar that week, I had a chance to ask him directly.

    We were alone in his official room. I asked about the law. He was clear: he had instigated it and supported it fully. He wanted gays in prison. He supported restricting freedom of speech and the right to assembly so that LGBTQI+ people and their allies could never organise. I was shocked—but not surprised.

    If you see LGBTQI+ people as akin to murderers or more cursed than those starving and homeless, you have dehumanised them. And, once dehumanised, they can be silenced and imprisoned.

    The same happened in Uganda. Members of the Anglican Church were instrumental in pushing through shocking legislation. The effect of that legislation went beyond simple law with the persecution of gay people and the murder of David Kato, which was unequivocally condemned by a later Primates’ Meeting.

    And so to the present debates in the Church of England. A CEEC briefing paper suggests that those opposed to LLF can counter the argument that it is “not credal” by saying:

    “There are plenty of things not mentioned in the Creeds but upon which we would not be willing to accept any level of disagreement (e.g. murder). In short, the argument ‘it is not credal’ does not mean that we can simply have different views.”

    Apart from the obvious response that while murder is not in the Creeds it is one of the Ten Commandments, the real issue is that this kind of reasoning treats LGBTQI+ identity as an issue.

    I welcome the presence of those who disagree with me on the legitimacy of same-gender unions. But we must remember that we are talking about people—human beings.

    To be clear, the CEEC and Anglican Alliance have issued sincere statements condemning anti-gay laws in Nigeria and Uganda. But I see little action to match the words—and I wonder why.

    These laws were promoted by their Anglican allies. They have withdrawn from worship with those of us who promote equal marriage, yet I don’t see them threatening to withdraw from communion with those who promote violence toward gay people. They rejoice in partnerships with churches that have enacted hate-driven laws, while lamenting that Nigerians and Ugandans aren’t represented on the CNC for Canterbury. I know they oppose these laws—but I suspect they do not see them as a first order issue, rather a “cultural difference.”

    The true divide in the Anglican Communion is between those who see “homosexuality” as an issue, and those who engage with human beings of all sexualities—straight and gay—seeking to live and love in the way of Christ.

    For some, following in the steps of Archbishop Dirokpa and Bishop Mohogolo, this may mean continuing to oppose the blessing of same-sex unions—yet listening, respecting, and refusing to break Communion with those they disagree with.

    For others, like me, we believe that God calls both straight and gay people into permanent, faithful, stable, and joyful relationships. We are not issues—we are beloved people of God.

    “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

     

  • Where is the Colour? The CEEC Commissioning of Overseers: A Theological and Ecclesiological Critique

    by Revd Dr Augustine Tanner-Ihm, Lead Minister of Saint Nicholas Church, Kingsway, Manchester

    The recent commissioning of overseers by the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) necessitates a critical theological and ecclesiological examination. This decision appears to undermine both the doctrinal foundations of the Church of England and its commitment to inclusivity and diversity. This article will explore the theological implications, the postcolonial context, and the historical and current Church of England stances on diversity, arguing that the CEEC’s actions reflect a troubling trend of white elitism. Regardless of one’s position on the structures that the CEEC has chosen – personally, I disagree with them – the lack of racial awareness remains an important issue.

    Theological Foundations and Ecclesiological Implications

    The doctrine of the Church of England is grounded in the principles of inclusivity, universality, and the imago Dei—the belief that all humans are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). This foundational doctrine calls the Church to embrace and reflect the diversity of God’s creation. The Apostle Paul’s teaching in Galatians 3:28 underscores this inclusive vision: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

    However, the CEEC’s recent commissioning of exclusively white overseers starkly contradicts these theological tenets. By failing to represent the rich diversity of the global Anglican Communion, the CEEC undermines the universality of the Church and perpetuates a form of ecclesiastical homogeneity that is theologically untenable.

    Postcolonial Critique and the Legacy of Colonialism

    A postcolonial analysis illuminates the CEEC’s recent actions as reminiscent of colonial practices that prioritize white, European leadership while marginalizing non-white voices. The insistence on “orthodox” bishops, purportedly to align with the theological stances of Black, Brown, and Asian Anglicans, is profoundly ironic, given that none of the appointed overseers come from these communities. Instead this practice perpetuates a colonialist framework where theological and ecclesiastical leadership is dominated by white elites, effectively silencing the diverse voices within the Anglican Communion.

    According to the CEEC, these are the first overseers to be commissioned, with more to follow. However, an article in Anglican Ink reveals that those to be commissioned later have already been chosen, a fact that raises concerns about inclusivity and transparency. Despite the presence of a few Global Majority Heritage (GMH) individuals on the CEEC Board of Trustees, this issue seems to have been overlooked. This could be due to a phenomenon some theologians describe as Theological Stockholm Syndrome, where marginalized individuals align with and support their oppressors’ frameworks and structures.

    This critique echoes the sentiment expressed by African American activist and writer Audre Lorde, who famously stated, “For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master’s house as their only source of support” (Lorde, 1984). The trustees appear to have been co-opted by the very tools of colonialism rather than seeking the liberation of others.

    In other words, they have succumbed to a role reminiscent of the “Uncle Tom” figure in African American vernacular, serving the interests of the dominant group at the expense of their communities. This dynamic underscores the urgent need for a truly inclusive and representative ecclesiastical leadership within the Church of England.

    For some time now, evangelical Anglicans – when arguing about unity within the Anglican communion – have used disagreements on LGBTQIA+ inclusion to say the Church of England is ignoring the voices of the so-called “Global South”. It is persons with more of an inclusive/progressive view on sexuality and gender identity who have been called racist or who have been claimed by conservatives to be demonstrating a colonial way of thinking.  Yet the framework that was put together is a farce. As a black man who is gay and evangelical, it saddens me that my siblings in Christ would use such a horrible tactic.

    For instance, as a black American man who can trace my lineage directly to slavery, I feel extremely uncomfortable with the word “overseers”. As many Anglicans would know, overseers were used to keep the enslaved blacks in check, to make sure they would not follow their conscience and be moved by the Spirit for freedom. Overseers were harsh white men from a privileged class that would propagate violence and torture against people that looked like me. Overseers would be the very drivers of enslavement. But if it is claimed that this is simply a word from the Bible, then it is translating episkopos; but that means they are Bishops! Therefore, which one is it?

    Kwok Pui-lan’s postcolonial theological framework critiques the Western-centric dominance in ecclesiastical structures, advocating for a decolonized approach that genuinely incorporates and values the perspectives of Christians from the Global South. The CEEC’s actions, therefore, can be seen as a continuation of colonial patterns of exclusion and control, rather than a move towards true inclusivity and representation.

    Historical and Current Stances on Diversity

    Historically, the Church of England has struggled with issues of racial and cultural inclusion. The Lambeth Conference of 1988 recognized the need for the Church to repent of its complicity in racism and colonialism, calling for greater inclusivity within its structures. More recently, the “Lament to Action” report highlighted the persistent racial inequalities within the Church of England, urging systemic changes to address these injustices.

    Despite these acknowledgements and calls to action, the CEEC’s commissioning of an all-white overseer body demonstrates a significant lapse in the Church’s commitment to these goals. This move not only disregards the recommendations of the “Lament to Action” report but also undermines the Church’s public witness to racial justice and equality.

    White Elitism and Ecclesiastical Purity

    The theological justification for an all-white overseer body under the guise of maintaining orthodoxy is a manifestation of white elitism. This elitism privileges white theological perspectives and leadership, marginalizing the rich theological contributions of Black, Brown, and Asian Anglicans. Such a stance is antithetical to the inclusive vision of the Gospel and the ecclesiological commitment to the catholicity of the Church.

    The Church of England’s commitment to being a national church requires it to reflect the diversity of the nation it serves. The homogeneous composition of the CEEC overseers fails to embody this national and theological mandate, suggesting a retreat into a narrow, exclusionary vision of the Church that is more concerned with preserving white dominance than with embodying the inclusive love of Christ.

    Not Reflecting the Vision of a Younger and More Diverse Church

    Prominent theologian Paul Avis has consistently emphasized the importance of the Church being a community that embodies the diversity and unity of the body of Christ. The Church of England has been striving to be younger and more diverse, a theme central to its mission in contemporary society. This vision aims to ensure that the Church is relevant and reflective of the multifaceted nature of the population it serves, both in England and globally.

    The CEEC’s decision to commission an exclusively white group of overseers starkly contrasts with this goal too. It suggests a failure to engage with and integrate the younger, more diverse demographics that are vital for the Church’s future. The Church of England is attempting to move beyond its historical legacy of exclusion and to foster a community where all are represented and valued. By ignoring the vibrant, diverse voices within the Anglican Communion, the CEEC undermines this essential mission and risks alienating younger generations who seek a Church that is inclusive and representative of all God’s people.

    A Call to Action

    The commissioning of the CEEC overseers must therefore serve as a wake-up call for the Church of England. It is imperative that the Church actively works to dismantle structures of white elitism and to foster a genuinely inclusive leadership that reflects the diversity of the Anglican Communion. This requires not only appointing “overseers” from diverse racial and cultural backgrounds but also engaging in deep, systemic change to ensure that all voices are heard and valued. I disagree with my siblings in Christ, and yes, I call them siblings because even though I strongly disagree, I have love and respect for them as people who are co-heirs with Christ.

    Theological orthodoxy is not about maintaining a narrow, exclusionary vision of the Church. It is about embodying the fullness of the Gospel, which calls us to love, inclusivity, and justice. As we move forward, let us commit to a vision of the Church that truly reflects the diversity of God’s creation and the inclusive nature of the Gospel.

    References:

    1. CEEC Overseers Commissioned in London for the Church of England
    2. Bishop of Oxford Rejects the Alliance’s Call for a Third Province Should LLF be Introduced
    3. “Lament to Action” Report, Church of England, 2021.
    4. Kwok Pui-lan, Postcolonial Imagination and Feminist Theology, Westminster John Knox Press, 2005.
    5. The Lambeth Conference Reports, 1988.
    6. Paul Avis, The Identity of Anglicanism: Essentials of Anglican Ecclesiology, T&T Clark, 2008.
    7. Paul Avis, In Search of Authority: Anglican Theological Method from the Reformation to the Enlightenment, Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2014.

     

  • The Alliance and the Bishop of Oxford

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


    ‘The Alliance’ has written another letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury and once again the tone portrays them as the arbiters of orthodoxy. In this letter they make it clear that they will remain within the Anglican Communion while effectively becoming a separate church – a new province – in England.

    They give the impression that it is the Church of England which will be isolated from the theologically uniform Global South, and so from the Anglican Communion itself, while they will be welcomed with open arms. They accuse the Archbishops of Canterbury and York of ‘Western elitism’ in ignoring the views of the Global South and claim they are the ones striving for unity.

    My own bishop – the Bishop of Oxford – has written a response. In it he refers to the consensus at Lambeth 2022 which was to accept different views on sexuality and to walk together. He criticises the Alliance for not mentioning the persecution of LGBTIQ+ people in parts of the world where the [Anglican] church has given its support.

    Replying to Bishop Steven, the Alliance has emphasised its opposition to the persecution of LGBTQIA+ people, but they also make clear their commitment to be in full communion with Provinces at the heart of GAFCON and the Global South Fellowship of Anglicans (GSFA) – including provinces such as Nigeria and Uganda which have promoted and rejoiced in laws that have deepened the criminalisation of LGBTQIA+ people and their allies. The members of the Alliance feel compelled to break with those who bless the union of people of the same sex, but not to break communion with those who rejoice that freedom of speech and freedom of association have been removed from those seeking to defend some of the most vulnerable people in their societies. The Alliance says it is ‘deeply concerned about the persecution of LGBTQIA+ people’ and they emphasise that their affirmation of Lambeth I.10 includes a clear repudiation of all homophobia. I don’t doubt their sentiment, but they are still aligning with church leaders who have praised laws that potentially imprison people for even being suspected of being gay.

    The letters from the Alliance frequently talk about the ‘Global South’ representing 75% of Anglicanism. This is an extremely misleading claim. It may be that 75% of Anglicans live in the Global South, but even in one diocese, let alone one parish, there is always diversity. When the Alliance talks about ‘the Global South’ they seem to mean an organisation, GSFA, that according to its leader is defined by doctrine not geography. The GSFA has 8 Anglican member Provinces from a total of 31 provinces with Global South Anglicans. The GSFA has excluded or alienated most of the Global South provinces, and has been a cause of division.

    The Bishop of Oxford is right to point out that, if the Alliance is in partnership with 75% of Anglicans in the socio-economic Global South, then that includes being in partnership with Anglicans who have steadfastly opposed GAFCON and GSFA and with those who are deliberating change. In the terms set by the Alliance, many of them are not ‘orthodox’. The Bishop of Oxford is aware of this because the Diocese of Oxford has a partnership with the Diocese of Kimberley and Kuruman in South Africa, where prayers for those in same sex unions have recently been approved.

    And a further new partnership challenges the charge that the Church of England is failing to listen to Anglicans in the Global South. This week, the Bishop of Oxford announced the launch of a new link with the Diocese of Jamaica and the Cayman Islands.

    Archbishop Howard Gregory – the Diocesan Bishop of Jamaica and the Archbishop of the West Indies – entered the partnership well aware of the progressive stance of our Bishop and of many in our Diocese. The partnership is for all in both dioceses, not just with those who self-proclaim themselves to be ‘orthodox’. His diocese also has theological diversity and we will find common ground and real challenges. He has chosen to partner his complex diocese with our complex diocese, fully aware of the range of views we have here and the direction of travel under the leadership of our bishop.

    In contrast with the Archbishops of Nigeria and Uganda, Archbishop Howard has followed on from his predecessor – Archbishop John Holder of Barbados – and bravely squared up to the homophobia in West Indian culture and law. Far from being in thrall to ‘Western elites’, the Archbishop is seeking the repeal of the British colonial penal code.

    The place of the West Indies in the story of GSFA is illustrative of power struggles across the Communion. The South to South encounters of the 1990s were intended to enable a post-colonial Anglican voice to emerge, but in the late 1990s some of the leadership partnered with Western conservatives who were seeking support for their opposition to women bishops and a clear stance on human sexuality. Following the 1998 Lambeth Conference, and up to his retirement in 2009, the Archbishop of the West Indies, Drexel Gomez, was at the heart of these partnerships. However, his lead role in that organisation alienated him from the bishops in his province. They had their own partnerships with dioceses around the world, including TEC, and they did not necessarily support his views. He was spoken of as ‘representing’ them, but he had no mandate to do so.

    His retirement coincided with the meeting of the ACC in Jamaica in 2009. I was privileged to meet all the bishops from West Indies that week and several of them told me that they had been lobbied by Western conservatives (including one from the Diocese of Oxford) telling them who to elect as their Archbishop so they could preserve continuity with the Global South. By a huge majority they ignored the advice and elected a radical alternative – Bishop John Holder.

    I knew Bishop John well. In 2006 I had just been appointed Facilitator for the Listening Process on Human Sexuality in the Anglican Communion and he sent me a copy of his training manual for all clergy in his diocese. He did so because one of the four sessions was aimed at enabling his clergy to face their homophobia, and change. He was not bowing to any Western elite; it was the conclusion of his deep engagement with Scripture and the result of his deep listening to the experience of LGBTIQ+ people (as mandated in Lambeth I.10).

    When the Bishops of the West Indies chose him as Primate, they did so in order to break with the organisation that the Alliance calls the ‘Global South’ and to ensure that they were part of an Anglican Communion that included TEC and the Anglican Church of Canada.

    This pattern was often repeated across the Communion. I saw it in Ghana, Tanzania, Southern Africa and elsewhere and so when the GSFA tried to divide the Bishops at the 2022 Lambeth Conference by encouraging dissent through the signing of a document demanding universal conformity with Lambeth I.10, only a tiny proportion of bishops from the Global South signed up. Not one bishop from the West Indies signed it.

    Calling the GSFA ‘the Global South’ is deliberately confusing. Because it is an organisation that is defined by doctrine not geography, people may be surprised to know that the breakaway Anglican Church in North America is a member! Yet the vast majority of Anglican Provinces in the socio-economic global south are not.

    All this does not mean the partnership between Jamaica and the Cayman Islands and the Diocese of Oxford will be easy. Jamaica has been struck by a deadly hurricane almost immediately after the announcement of the link and this calls for us not only to seek money to help but also to ask hard questions about our responsibility for the environmental crisis engulfing the world. We will also be required to examine our place in the horror of chattel slavery. One of the historic patrons of one of my churches was a slave owner – my guess is that slave-trade related patronage runs deep within our diocese. Effective partnership is going to be uncomfortable for all of us.

    This new partnership indicates that the Anglican Communion has a healthy future. We will need to face difficult conversations with openness, honesty, and humility, but we will benefit from those as we walk with Christ.

  • To be Evangelical is to Challenge ‘Orthodoxy’

    by Canon Dr Phil Groves, a parish priest who was a CMS Mission partner in Tanzania and worked at the Anglican Communion Office for 10 years as the Facilitator for the Listening Process in the Anglican Communion and Director of Continuing Indaba. His PhD is on Anglican Missional Ecclesiology. He is dyslexic and is exploring advocacy for neurodiverse people.

     

    ‘Orthodox’[1] has become the chosen title for those seeking to reaffirm that marriage is only between one man and one woman for life. The implication is that those of us who are who are affirming and inclusive are unfaithful to the tradition of the church, to the gospel, and to God.

    Evangelical institutions have often had statements of faith, which traditionally have majored on the scriptures and salvation. Such statements are now seen to be insufficient, with new clauses defining marriage as only between a man and a woman for life being added to defend ‘orthodoxy’.

    I suspect that there are three intended outcomes from inserting and emphasising these new clauses on sexuality. Firstly, it is hoped they will protect institutions from encroachment by those who have a different view. Secondly, to ensure evangelical unity in order to form wider alliances with Anglican provinces and organisations across and outside the Anglican Communion. It also cements the idea that the doctrine of marriage is a first order issue: a salvation issue.

    These clauses – beyond any others – have become the key test of ‘orthodoxy’. Those of us who support equal marriage are being told we are not ‘orthodox’ and we are not evangelicals.

    This trend began at GAFCON in 2008, with The Jerusalem Declaration. The radical proposal at the heart of GAFCON is that Anglicanism should reject its entire history and deny its identity by endorsing a confession in order to secure unity. We have formularies and we are defined by the multitude of prayerbooks, but Anglicans have always resisted all creeds other than the Catholic Creeds.

    The Jerusalem Declaration followed traditional lines for evangelical declarations of faith but included the following statement as a ‘tenet of orthodoxy’:

    We acknowledge God’s creation of humankind as male and female and the unchangeable standard of Christian marriage between one man and one woman as the proper place for sexual intimacy and the basis of the family. We repent of our failures to maintain this standard and call for a renewed commitment to lifelong fidelity in marriage and abstinence for those who are not married.

    It is this statement that was recently added to the CEEC’s Basis of Faith. It has seemed to engender a sense of unity across the different evangelical tribes – generally described as open, conservative, and charismatic – but it holds issues for evangelicals that will not be easy to overcome in the long term and redefines evangelicalism in a way that may make it unrecognisable to me.

    A key issue that will continue to blight evangelicalism as it relies on statements of faith is legitimate disagreement. According to the Jerusalem Declaration, there are many things the ‘orthodox’ can disagree about, but deciding the difference between legitimate and illegitimate disagreements is often a political decision rather than a theological one.

    A so called ‘legitimate disagreement’ that has caused problems in the Anglican Church of North America (ACNA) has been around male ‘headship’. ACNA has sidestepped the issue with accommodation through ‘dual integrities, but some within the movement regard ‘complementarianism’ as an essential, first order, issue. Within GAFCON political expediency has led to the Diocese of Sydney – which once would not compromise on male leadership – forming alliances with the Provinces of Uganda, where women have been ordained since the early 1980s and Kenya and where they have women Bishops. In England one wonders why we needed a Bishop of Maidstone when women bishops are now counted among the ‘orthodox’. For many conservative evangelicals male headship has gone from being a defining issue to one where there can be legitimate disagreement.

    Within the wider GAFCON movement it seems also to be legitimate to disagree on the deep criminalisation of LGBTI+ people. I have no doubt that most CEEC members will agree with Sean Doherty’s condemnation of the anti-gay laws passed in Uganda. Doherty does not mince his words; he says ‘Following the example of Jesus therefore means standing against the criminalisation of sexual sin, rather than supporting it’, which sounds like it is a first order issue with implications for salvation. However, nowhere does he condemn the Church of Uganda which advocated for the law and which rejoiced at its passing. These laws in Uganda and also in Nigeria are horrific and target some of the most the most vulnerable people in the world. The Church of Nigeria is absolutely clear that the very same statement adopted by CEEC from the Jerusalem Declaration demands action to criminalise all LGBTI+ people and their public allies. While CEEC members may interpret the clause differently, they seem to be seeking alliances with the Churches of Nigeria and Uganda despite this difference. The deep criminalisation of LGBTI+ people seems to be a valid area for legitimate disagreement.

    Difference is also tolerated between those who oppose conversion ‘therapies’ and those who argue that they should be defended. The trustees of CPAS responded to Prayers of Love and Faith by endorsing the Evangelical Alliance’s (2012) ‘Affirmations on Sexuality’. This affirmation includes support for conversion therapy and, following widespread concern, the trustees removed it from their website and made clear their opposition to such therapies. Immediately they were criticised by Martin Davie, a theological consultant for CEEC, who defended the right of organisations to offer change counselling. In a previous post on this site I pointed out that the main so-called therapy regularly promoted by such groups is known as ‘reparative therapy’ which relies on unbiblical – indeed, I would say, antibiblical – pseudo-Freudian theories of sexual drive. Such therapies have been abandoned by Freudians because of the damage they cause. The evangelicals who champion reparative therapy are the last ones contending for the Freudian understanding of the root of sexual desire for someone of the same gender. This appears to be another area where difference is legitimate.

    In addition to its Basis of Faith, CPAS has a document page entitled Outworkings of the Faith. Clause 6 uncompromisingly defines marriage as a ‘life-long covenant between one man and one woman’ with a reference to Malachi 2:13-16 which says: ‘The man who hates and divorces his wife, does violence to the one he should protect’. CPAS is at least consistent in placing its condemnation of divorce and remarriage on a par with the condemnation of same-sex unions, but others are not. Unlike CPAS, CEEC regards divorce and remarriage as having precedent in the Scriptures and so remarriage while a former spouse is still living is allowable. Again, an area where disagreement is allowed.

    Advocates for the clauses that rule out support for equal marriage will find clever ways to justify why disagreement over the issues above is legitimate while disagreement over this one issue is not. However, this drive for ‘orthodoxy’ it defines evangelicalism in an exclusive way that I find impossible to relate to. As evangelicalism focuses on guarding the gospel it ceases to be about proclaiming the gospel and challenging ‘orthodoxy’. For me, the power of evangelicalism has been in challenging tradition.

    All my evangelical heroes are marked by being unorthodox and driven to challenge tradition and bring liberation.

    John Wesley, often seen as the first Anglican evangelical, set the example. His early commitment to orthodoxy led him to harsh self-righteousness. Embracing the warming embrace of the Holy Spirit opened his eyes to Romans 8, and he realised he was saved from the law of sin and death. He felt the need to break out of the institutions and, as a consequence, he engaged with the oppressed, supported abolitionism, and championed women preachers. Wesley’s evangelicalism was defined by being unorthodox and liberating.

    His opposition to slavery was taken up by the abolitionists who were regarded as wilful violent perverters of the sacred texts by those who quoted the Bible in support of their profiteering from the horrific abuse of human beings.[2] Even though they were at the heart of the British institution, The Clapham Sect were never accused of being orthodox: they were liberators.

    Josephine Butler took up the cause of emancipation from slavery, this time for women enslaved in prostitution. Her evangelical faith led her to campaign for feminist causes that inspired others to join her campaign for equal suffrage, and for children and adults forced into prostitution.[3] Her catchphrase, ‘God and one woman make a majority’, marks out her opposition to orthodoxy. She may have been on her own in human terms, but if she was on the side of God the orthodox were a minority.  Her ministry was marked by liberation.

    Butler, along with Elizabeth Fry, was a woman who found in her evangelical faith the ability to speak up in a male-dominated world. Another of my heroes is Bishop James Theodore Holly was an African-American man who found the same confidence in the same source to speak in a white-dominated world. In 1874, he became the first Anglican of African descent to be a diocesan Bishop in the Anglican Communion and he attended the 1878 Lambeth Conference. For him, liberation was not a gift of white people, but a right to be claimed by all people. His passion for liberation was backed by a commitment to changing the world, and brining liberation.

    My more recent heroes include John V. Taylor. UK evangelicals know him for his ground-breaking book on the Holy Spirit, The Go-Between God, but as a leader of CMS, Taylor recognised the value and depth of African traditions. He challenged the orthodox understanding that African music and dance were satanic. I witnessed the liberating effect in the 1980s on young leaders such as the future Archbishop of Uganda, Henry Orombi, when I was a member of his evangelism team. We travelled around the Diocese of Madi West Nile distributing traditional musical instruments so worship could be enculturated. In 1975, John V. Taylor also anticipated the ecological crisis in his prophetic book Enough is Enough, calling for a radical response to Western greed. He was a visionary prophet and a voice of liberation.

    During my time in Uganda, I met another of my evangelical heroes: Bishop Festo Kivengere. Kivengere was famous for resisting the violent regime of Idi Amin with a message of love. His eloquent preaching put him on a par with Billy Graham and his commitment to justice brought him close to Archbishop Desmond Tutu. In the 1950s, Kivengere was brought to Tanganyika by Australian missionaries to work as a school teacher. He found them complacent in the face of racism. On the trains, he and his family travelled third class while the missionaries luxuriated in first class where no black Africans were allowed. His experience of revival made him aware of gender equality. His preaching on gender equality in turn brought him into conflict with orthodox missionaries, who banned him from preaching in their churches. So, like Wesley, he preached in the market place. His theology left an indelible print on the church in Dodoma and around, which is why the Diocese of Central Tanganyika, one of the liveliest evangelical dioceses in the Anglican world, has resisted GAFCON and the Global South Fellowship of Anglicans. As a bishop in the early 1980s he carried through with his commitment to the empowerment of women, defying his synod and the Lambeth Conference by ordaining women to the priesthood because it was clear the Holy Spirit was with them. Kivengere’s story is one of liberation.

    He was not alone. Many of the key players in the East African Revival strove for the empowerment of women. This is true today, and exemplified by the great Ester Mombo. As a theological educator, Mombo has ensured top-class theological education for East Africn women as well as men. This means that across East Africa, and especially in Kenya, there are theologically educated women leaders. GAFCON tried to stop women being elected as bishops in Kenya, but true evangelical courage won out and the glass ceiling has been cracked, if not yet completely broken. This has huge implications in the fight against FGM and gender-based violence. Mombo is a relentless force for liberation.

    I am not suggesting that any of these heroes would have embraced equal marriage, but that as evangelicals they were all driven to challenge ‘orthodoxy’. Their lives and ministries were marked, not by signing declarations of faith, but by bringing liberation despite resistance from those representing ‘orthodox’ readings of the Bible.

    It is no accident that evangelicals have been at the forefront of liberation and created real change if Jesus is their inspiration.

    Jesus was never ‘orthodox’. His ministry was defined by his confrontation with orthodox leaders quoting the Scriptures and standing on tradition. He identified his ministry in releasing captives, bringing sight to the blind, and identification with the oppressed. He shocked the orthodox who expected him to endorse the rich as blessed by God and to engage in theological dialogue with the learned.

    He spoke angrily of the hypocrisy of the orthodox teachers and discussed theology with foreign women that no orthodox rabbi would even talk to informally. He did not observe the rules on ritual cleanliness, mixed with untouchables, and declared that he was free from the rules on the Sabbath.

    John the Baptist was shocked by the unorthodoxy of Jesus so he sought confirmation that Jesus was the chosen one.[4] In response Jesus did not send back a signed commitment to a statement of faith; rather, he responded by testimony to the signs of liberation.

    The evidence of allegiance with God in the world is not confessional orthodoxy – it is that ‘the blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor’.

    I cannot see these signs of liberation in the move to tighten up confessional formulations of evangelical institutions. What I see are alliances with those who are driving the deepening criminalisation of LGBTI+ people in Africa, Asia, and the Americas. I see limitations being placed on the ministry of women. I see protection being given to those who continue to promote so-called conversion therapy, with all the harm we know such therapies have had.

    I am ceasing to see the evangelical faith that inspired me in churches that have become obsessed with something they see as an ‘issue’ and which I understand as human complexity. For me, this evangelical ‘orthodoxy’ seems to be embracing law as the solution to sin and death.

    If traditional marriage can only be defended by guarding institutions and not by lives and acts of liberation, I fear it may not be of the Holy Spirit.

    Great evangelical leaders have always made stands against orthodoxy. Now is the time to choose the path of liberation.

     

    Notes

    [1] In this essay the words ‘orthodox’ and ‘orthodoxy’ refer to the use within Anglican evangelical statements and do not refer to the Eastern Orthodox Church. For further discussion see Paul Roberts, On the use and abuse of the term ‘orthodox’.

    [2] Richard A Burridge, ‘Being Biblical? Slavery, Sexuality, and the Inclusive Community’, 22nd Eric Symes Abbott Memorial Lecture.

    [3] Helen Mathers, ‘The Evangelical Spirituality of a Victorian Feminist: Josephine Butler, 1828–1906’, The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 52.2, April 2001, pp. 282 – 312.

    [4] See R.T. France, Matthew – Tyndale NT Commentary (IVP) p.192.

  • Playing the Victim

    by the Revd Dr Charlie Bell, Fellow at Girton College Cambridge, Assistant Curate, St John the Divine, Kennington and a consultant to the LLF Implementation Pastoral Guidance Working Group

    There is often a very British reticence to ‘victimhood’. Whether it’s the stereotype of the stiff upper lip, or the willingness to ‘keep calm and carry on’, we are not known as a nation of victims. ‘Stop whingeing and get on with it’, as my school teachers used to say – and in the main, we do. ‘Playing the victim’ gets us less sympathy, and is far more likely to make us enemies.

    It has been interesting, then, to see the pernicious and yet all-pervasive narrative of victimhood seeping its way through some parts of the Church of England in recent months. In the wake of the bishops of the church putting forward a proposal that removes the impediment to us blessing a same-sex couple in the same way that we might bless a car or a plant pot, many of those for whom this would apparently be the ‘one step too far’ moral outrage have turned up the volume on their campaign to tell bishops about just how hurt they are by the whole thing.

    It remains surprising, of course, that there are people who cannot bear the idea of compromise and who appear to believe that agreeing to disagree on whether we can bless other people’s relationships will destroy the very foundations of their Christian faith. It’s important to distinguish, I think, between those who hold to this view quite genuinely, however bizarre many of us might find it, and those who are weaponizing it in a last gasp as they see their iron grip on power falter.  The former group are those whose worries and fears need to be listened to – and insofar as they are genuine, addressed. The latter – through their campaign – are doing their best, inadvertently, to ensure that this will not be the case.

    Not a day seems to go by without yet another asinine and misleading ‘question’ or statement being released on the Church of England Evangelical Council’s Twitter feed. To save the delicate stomachs of some readers who would prefer not to trawl the whole thing, here are some highlights. We have been told (several times) that the bishops are ‘denying’ the faith ‘due to cultural pressure’; we have had some very bizarre selective scriptural quotes from Revelation; we have had the usual claptrap about the fact that something legal advice specifically states is not a change of doctrine is, in fact, a change of doctrine; we’ve heard nonsense about how the changes coming are ‘theologically compromised and pastorally confusing’; and that old chestnut, the ‘lifestyle’ choice, is back with a vengeance. None of this is new – much of it is dishonest.

    Yet whilst these repeated tropes are tiresome and often – quite frankly – silly, the worst to come out of the campaign is the barefaced attempt to present those who are attempting to roll back Synod’s decision as ‘victims’. Let’s be absolutely clear about this suggestion – it is utterly ridiculous, and not only ridiculous, but insulting. For years there has been a conservative stranglehold on the policies of the Church of England, with bishops apparently too scared to say what they really think until they leave office, and a tacit acceptance that unity is quite reasonably built on the backs of queer people. At last, that wicked, immoral consensus is crumbling. It is staggering how shameless those who have fought against any liberation for queer people are now being.

    We are told that the introduction of voluntary, opt-in prayers of blessing are an existential threat to those who choose not to offer them. We are told that it is unacceptable that those who say LGBTQI people should be celibate will now have to admit to it. We are told that any compromise position, any opportunity to offer anything whatsoever to queer people, is an act of victimisation towards conservative evangelicals. We are told that it is imperative that queer clergy must not be sexually intimate and must be punished if they are, and that this is the red line. Blithe nonsense about cancel culture abounds; misrepresentation of facts, and of the reality of power structures, is front and centre. It is scandalous. As a recent Tweet from the CEEC campaign apparently unironically stated, ‘we are for respecting people, even when we disagree on theological conclusions’ – perhaps it’s time to put that into action, folks.

    The thing is, the Church of England and its hierarchy should be willing and able to challenge this ratcheting up of confected terror, rather than imbibe it and be scared by it. The Church of England has produced something rather valuable in the Pastoral Principles, yet there seems to be precious little recognition of how these relate to this recent campaign. There is little point having these principles written down if they are not going to be put into practice – and it is about time some leadership was shown and people held to account. Yet as ever it is queer people who are told to calm down and have warmer hearts.

    The apology to LGBTQI people from the House of Bishops is not worth the paper it’s written on if nobody is willing to stand up for us. Since the Synod vote, little to no comment has been made on how those of us who are LGBT face discrimination on a constant basis from wider society, let alone from the church. LGBT people face genuine and real oppression and are openly victimised, targeted and discriminated against. Trans people are murdered across the world, year by year. Gay young people in parts of sub-Saharan Africa are taken out of their homes and killed. I do not understand why there is such an oppressive and overwhelming silence on this issue. If we’re looking for real victims in all of this, a good place to start – for example – would be the queer folk of Uganda. Yet a month’s wait for anything – at all – to come out of Lambeth (and there is still nothing out of the Anglican Communion Office or GAFCON) in response to the Archbishop of Uganda’s blasphemous support for criminalisation of LGBTQI people is hardly the ‘speaking into silence’ that the Pastoral Principles demand. It’s simply not good enough, and if this is the trajectory, then the feigned apology is nothing more than an insult.

    Those who are promoting the CEEC campaign and its messages need to take a long, hard look at themselves. A false narrative of victimhood – a genuine ‘playing the victim’ – is not only a tactic that flies directly in the face of the Pastoral Principles, but one that flies directly in the face of our belonging to Jesus Christ. And the leaders of our church need to step up and speak into what is going on here, instead of running scared. Doing so behind closed doors is not enough – we are being publicly attacked day after day, and there is nothing whatsoever being said to support us.

    Queer people have put up with ‘just getting on with it’ for too long – and we’re being taken advantage of. Just because we don’t constantly play the victim doesn’t mean we’re not hurting. Many – most – of us are. We’re living in a church that tolerates and doesn’t love us, and now we’re living in a church that is willing to tacitly accept that – once again – we’re the problem. We still do not matter – we are still an issue.

    It’s time – in fact, it’s well beyond time – for our leaders to practise what they preach. We’ve been hung out to dry quite long enough.

  • Being Invisible While Anglicans Debate Marrying Same-Sex Couples

    by Savitri Hensman, author of  “Sexuality, Struggle and Saintliness” and LGBTI+ equality activist, writer and involvement coordinator

    In February 2023, the Church of England’s General Synod voted to welcome a proposal by bishops for optional prayers for blessing same-sex couples, though weddings were not on offer. Also a much-criticised document which was used to ban married gays from ministry – Issues in Human Sexuality – was to be scrapped. This was a modest but significant step towards greater inclusion of LGBTQI+ people, though far from enough (1).

    There were strong negative reactions from those most opposed to change, in the UK and parts of the wider Anglican Communion; the Communion had been mentioned at various points in the debate, mainly with regard to the hazards of moving forward. Church of England leaders were accused of putting Western cultural above biblical values and some challenged the Archbishop of Canterbury’s fitness to chair the Communion, though many think existing structures outdated in any case. Following Synod, at an Anglican Consultative Council gathering in Ghana, Justin Welby made a rather defensive speech, criticising secular British culture and MPs’ warnings about parliamentary consequences if equal marriage in church did not go ahead, but indicating that those in favour of greater inclusion also sought to follow Scripture.

    In recent debates, LGBTQI+ people of Global Majority Heritage (GMH) have, I think, been mainly invisible, except occasionally as victims of (now and then protestors against) homophobia and transphobia (2). This seems strange, partly because there are a lot of us, who may be affected in multiple ways by the changes which are proposed or resisted. What is more, some have influenced shifts in churches and society. Each has a unique experience and perspective; the dangers of sweeping generalisations about categories of humans should, by this point in history, be clear. However, there may be areas of common ground among many, if not all.

    I am a British Sri Lankan lesbian, born and baptised in what was then Ceylon. I arrived in this country in the ‘60s as a small child but remained a citizen for the first three decades or so of my life and am still connected. My late partner was of Jamaican descent, my family and friends are from diverse backgrounds. My late parents were active in Asian and wider Southern theological circles. I agree with some “conservatives” that many affirming Church of England members underestimate the importance of the Anglican Communion – but I draw entirely different conclusions.

    Like Anderson Jeremiah, the Communion I know is far from homogenous. And, echoing Jarel Robinson-Brown, the notion of a “liberal” West pitted against a “traditionalist” South is simply untrue, though slavery and colonialism alongside other kinds of injustice have influenced patterns of oppression and resistance.

    With some Synod speakers, I fear for Nigerian Anglicans’ safety. But many already face horrific violence because they are LGBTQI+ or on religious grounds, despite church leaders there inflaming hatred of LGBTQI+ people and bishops here repeatedly stalling moves towards inclusion. Murderous fundamentalists will keep persecuting Christians while this bolsters their own power. Given my own island’s blood-soaked recent history, I understand concerns about increasing the vulnerability of those for whom one cares. Yet, as also pointed out at Synod, some of those seeking affirmation of their love are themselves refugees. And I believe that consistently upholding compassion and human rights for all, and challenging fundamentalism and inequality, offers the best hope of overcoming violent division.

    Justice, mercy, human and Divine love

    In the mid-twentieth century, Lambeth Conference gatherings proclaimed that all people were equally the objects of God’s love and urged support for human rights; affirmed that all Scripture must be interpreted in the light of Christ; and acknowledged “our debt to the host of devoted scholars who, worshipping the God of Truth, have enriched and deepened our understanding of the Bible, not least by facing with intellectual integrity the questions raised by modern knowledge”.

    Such ideas did not simply emerge from an enlightened (or degenerate) West. Struggles against slavery and colonialism, as well as the Holocaust, had helped to demonstrate the dangers of treating some people as less than fully human, while rebels across the world strove for freedom, humanity and greater equality. And a version of Christianity distorted by the interests, and norms, of the rich and powerful in the West had been deeply damaging, though the Good News sometimes shone through nevertheless. Diversity in sexuality and gender identity in some countries was sometimes seen as a sign of heathen backwardness.

    Sometimes biblical passages were used to “prove” God’s backing for inequity or even cruelty, ignoring the Bible’s broader emphasis on justice and mercy and God’s presence in and with the marginalised, as well as Jesus’ bold challenge to religious leaders who disregarded human need and emphasis on the law of love. At the same time, “reason” and “experience” were also sometimes harnessed in oppressive ways, a reminder of the risks of over-confidence that one possesses the full truth. Narrow nationalism and uncritical allegiance to the state has also often been disastrous.

    I remember how, in South Africa and the USA, numerous supporters of racist segregation were convinced this reflected their faithfulness to the Bible. Selective use of Scripture and tradition was also used to underpin economic oppression and women’s subjugation – and, evidence increasingly indicated, not offering LGBTQI+ people the same opportunities to grow spiritually in faithful, self-giving relationships. When I was young, organisations such as the World Council of Churches and Ecumenical Association of Third World Theologians helped create space for anti-racist and more broadly liberatory theology to be shared and developed.

    In different parts of the South, churches took varying paths, especially when social tensions heightened and scapegoating intensified. As in the West, bishops did not represent everyone, though there have been inspirational figures like Desmond Tutu. Sometimes anti-LGBTQI+ laws and norms left over from colonial times were enforced with fresh vigour, at times with backing from institutional churches. Yet creative thinking has also gone on, often exploring how to respond to God’s call, amidst multiple inequalities and divisions, to build a world where all are valued.

    Following God, not culture

    When I came to Britain, men could be jailed for gay relationships. GMH people in the West, and ethnic minorities in Sri Lanka, have often faced prejudice from neighbours and mistreatment from the state.

    Cultures and states do not deserve absolute allegiance, though God can sometimes work through these. The liberatory thread running through the Bible, despite human fallibility, offers more; and openness to the Spirit in seeking a more loving, merciful world. LGBTQI+ GMH Christians, among others, have useful insights to offer.

     

    References

    (1)Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer and intersex – but please note that this term is used broadly for a range of people who, across cultures and history as well as on an individual basis, might describe themselves in varying ways, some of which might not be easily translated into English.

    (2) This may include people of African, Asian and Latin American descent or descended from the original peoples of North America or Australasia, who make up most of the world’s population. Some people prefer other terms, such as ‘people of colour’. On various aspects of diversity, I am fairly flexible about the terms or sets of initials used to describe me, if not too rude!

     

  • 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.

     

     

  • Getting Hot under the Collar about Sex

    by Mother Fiona Jack, curate at St.Barnabas, Ealing and member of General Synod

    A motion to urge the government to take action to limit children’s access to pornography was passed with an overwhelming majority at the July sessions of General Synod. There was also a recommendation for programmes to increase awareness of its pernicious influence on the young. There’s currently an Online Safety Bill at Committee stage in Parliament; if passed, it will go some way to bringing in legislation to address the problem. No-one, I imagine, would take issue with this; we heard evidence from professionals, parents and confessors attesting to the damage done when children access age-inappropriate material.

    I have a particular interest in this as, in my other life, I run a qualitative research business. Recently, we conducted a study for a major platform provider on the same topic. We discovered that not only do children access 18+ sites, but they are often more tech-savvy than their parents and can circumvent parental controls because they know their parent’s login and password details. The issue is much broader, however, than pornography. Equally harmful for children is violent content or horror. I remember my own daughter (despite warnings from me) watching a horror film with a 15 rating when she was about 12. She discovered, to her regret, why such films are not recommended for younger children. As well as horror and violence, online gambling and other online purchases can present problems: not only can children manipulate their parents’ email accounts, but they sometimes have their bank and credit card details and can run up large bills through online purchases of – for example – computer games, which also sometimes have violent or other adult content.

    Given this potential broader remit, I was somewhat disturbed that the debate in Synod focussed on pornography, to the exclusion of these other risks to children’s mental health and well-being. Coupled with other debates in Synod and the subsequent furore around same-sex relationships and marriage at the Lambeth Conference, this led me to reflect on why, as a Church, we seem to have sex on the brain. The overriding narrative from the Church seems to be that sexual sin is more serious than any other. What about the many other besetting sins of our age? Why don’t we hear much about pride, greed, envy or anger?

    I would argue – and I don’t think this is particularly contentious – that the underlying message of the Gospels is love. We hear plenty about agape love, certainly, the kind of selfless love a parent has for their child or the love God has for us. In the Church, we’re all comfortable with this kind of love. Love is OK as long as it’s pure and spiritual, right?

    There’s also the eros kind of love though, as so breathtakingly portrayed in the Song of Songs. What is it about the eros kind of love that makes some people in the Church get so hot under the collar? Being embodied is part of our identity – we are not built or intended to be pure spirit either on this or the other side of the grave – have you noticed how nobody talks about the resurrection of the body these days? We interact in the world for good or ill with our bodies. In a lecture entitled “Towards a Christian Sexual ethic for the 21st century”, the Revd Dr Carla Grosch-Miller pointed out quite rightly that the only function of the female clitoris is pleasure. If we believe we are fearfully and wonderfully made by our Creator, then we can only assume that enjoyment of sex was part of God’s plan for women in the first place. And for how many centuries have women who have enjoyed sex been thought of as whores – not to mention the cultures which still practise FGM for this very reason?

    There can be no more beautiful expression of love than the joy of sexual union between two people who love each other in the context of a committed relationship – and that’s equally true for heterosexual and homosexual couples. If we theologise sex into something shameful and sinful, then we deny a fundamental part of what it is to be human, and life becomes beige not red-blooded. In the words of the Song of Songs: ‘Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it’. If we are fortunate enough to find this kind of love in our lives, we might find in it a window into the love of God which is both passionate and fervent, full of desire and longing, eros as well as agape. Sadly, we are taught not to want certain things or certain people: we don’t choose who we love – how much easier would life be if that were the case?

    Going back to our starting point, our children must be protected from all kinds of harm online, not just pornography. Over-emphasis on sexual sin can make us look like people for whom it is always Lent and never Easter (Pope Francis) or like Narnia without Aslan where it’s always winter and never Christmas. Here’s a radical thought: instead of disapproving attitudes and a tone of moral outrage towards the secular world and our fellow Christians, what if the Church were to send a message of understanding and encouragement, a message that speaks of joy and hope even in the midst of suffering? Perhaps then we’d be following in the footsteps of Jesus Christ.