ViaMedia

Category: Marriage

  • The Church and the Body: Becoming a Safe Space to Talk about Dating and Sex

    by Andrew Godsall, who was ordained in 1988 and has held various posts in London and Exeter Dioceses. From 2010 to 2017 he was a member of General Synod. He spent the early part of his career with BBC Radio, including as a Producer of Religious Programmes, and it was there that he encountered Monica Furlong. 

     

    The late Monica Furlong – writer and astute observer of all things religious, but especially the Church of England – wrote a wonderful little paperback in 1975 called Christian Uncertainties. Writing about sex she notes: ‘That sex can be healing and joyful (sometimes outside marriage as well as in it), that it can lead to personal growth, that it is a way of knowing God, above all that it is Good, still takes a certain nerve to say in Christian circles’. Has much changed since 1975?

    Whilst it has been possible for many years to meet a potential mate through the personal columns of various newspapers, online dating apps have proliferated that possibility of coupling. Local churches have long been a way for single Christians to meet others and so naturally even Christian dating sites have become a thing. Why do people ‘date’? I want to explore four reasons, though I’m sure there are others that make up the fullness of our desires to ‘couple’.

    Firstly, as a means of intimate companionship. By that I mean a companionship that is different from work colleagues, or friends, or members of a club of some sort. Intimacy is not simply about sex but rather about making a deeply personal connection with another person. It’s a remedy for loneliness, although that can make it sound rather sad. The second chapter of Genesis expresses it like this: ‘It is not good that the man should be alone. I will make him a partner as his helper.’ Whilst Genesis goes on to describe the particulars of the first man’s partner, the general and more inclusive principle is located in the need not to be alone. We seem to have an innate need to couple up.

    Secondly then, in daring to date another and so overcome that sense of being alone, we discover who we really are ourselves. We might find our worth in work. We might find our ability to be part of a team at the club. But we find our intimate selves with a partner as our helper. Too often that phrase from Genesis has been taken to imply that the ‘helper’ is somehow an assistant; the secondary to the primary who is the man. Yet our understanding by the practice of companionship is that help is a truly mutual process. The helper is more truly a partner. Both those who prefer a partner of the same sex, and those who prefer one of the opposite sex, will find that this partner becomes a co-equal helper. The fact that Eve is described as the first helper doesn’t detract from the principle. The blueprint is for partnership, and not subordination. With a partner, as part of a couple, we discover who we truly can be.

    Thirdly we have a need to be desired. In the animal kingdom, birds will often display extreme beauty as a way of attracting a mate. Think of the peacock. It is natural to need to be desired. Even those of us who are shy and reticent about our attractive qualities will want the affirmation that goes along with being desired. Jessica Martin’s wonderful book Holiness and Desire: What makes us who we are? explores some of the theology of desire. She notes that ‘behind all the desires for connection is the desire to be fully known’. That of course echoes the transcendent beauty of St Paul’s assurance to the Corinthians that even though we know only in part, a time will come when ‘I will know fully, even as I have been fully known’. To be desired by someone, especially when we are stripped naked and are particularly vulnerable, gives us some fleeting assurance that our journey of courtship, our coupling, is an echo of a movement towards God. In being more fully known by a partner, we sense what it could be like to be fully known by God. We don’t call sex ‘making love’ for reasons of politeness. In making love we have the potential for transcending the ordinary. As Jessica Martin puts it, ‘desire is our bridge out of the rule of time’. When someone desires us, we glimpse something of the eternal.

    Fourthly, in dating we find the need to express the intimacy of partnership in physical contact. ‘Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh’ is ultimately expressed when bones and flesh are coupled in mutual sexual expression. I don’t know about all the ‘rules’ that Christian dating sites might want to enforce, or at least recommend, about online dating, but I am certain that some would insist that sexual expression is not permitted outside of marriage. Indeed, the C of E officially continues to take that line.

    Monica Furlong was prophetic. ‘That sex can be healing and joyful (sometimes outside marriage as well as in it), that it can lead to personal growth, that it is a way of knowing God, above all that it is Good, still takes a certain nerve to say in Christian circles.’ I am not persuaded that the Bible proscribes a sexual relationship in dating prior to marriage. Marriage was in any case a very different relationship, arranged by families rather than by the couple, and dating in our sense did not exist. I am aware that custom and tradition would make it risky and could cause a couple to be ostracised. That was still true relatively recently, until reliable contraception made sexual intercourse the ultimate intimate expression free from the outcome of childbirth. I am also fully aware that while dating, many people find creative ways other intercourse to satisfy each other sexually, ways which have always been available to the unmarried as well as to the married.

    Custom and tradition have so changed in the last two generations that a guide to intimacy in dating needs to be reclaimed by Christians. I don’t believe that can, or should, be done by forbidding sexual intimacy. I believe it should be done by having the courage to be honest about the healing, and joy, and personal growth and goodness that sexual expression, including before marriage, can lead towards. It can lead towards God. This means that the Church needs to own the myriad of sexual expressions that are viable agents of help for the individual and the couple who are daring to date. It is not good for people to be alone. Especially perhaps because, when it comes to sex, people start alone.

    The Church needs to be a place where people can find the key to not being alone, even if it isn’t necessarily the place where people will find a date. So the Church needs to be a safe space to talk about sex. This is far better in Church than in the playground or online. Just as many parents conclude that they would prefer their children to be having sex safely under their roof rather than in more degrading circumstances, so the Church could offer hospitality for more honest and open conversations about sex and sexuality if it isn’t to face further rejection. Dating and sex are too good and too important to leave to secular society alone.

  • Purist, Principled, Pragmatic? A Good Friday Agreement for the Church of England

    by Simon Butler, former member of Archbishops’ Council and member of General Synod 2005-2022

    The death of David Trimble was announced this week. Tweeting about Lord Trimble, Alistair Campbell, who knew him well through the Good Friday Agreement negotiations, said this: “He could be a difficult and mercurial character but he was the right man in the right place at the right time.”

    That got me thinking about where we go next as we approach the end of this part of the Living in Love and Faith (LLF) project. As we move from the phase of listening and learning, and await what emerges from the Next Steps Group and forthcoming House of Bishops meetings, who might be the right people in the right place at the right time in seeking a way forward beyond the current position we find ourselves in, which both conservatives and progressives find equally unsatisfactory and toxic? Setting aside questions of personality and temperament, which make some people less suited to negotiation and compromise, who needs to be talking to whom, when and about what?

    Looking across the divide as a progressive towards my conservative colleagues, I see two broad positions being taken. This first I might describe as purist. Purists don’t just hold a conservative position but appear to believe that such a position is the only position that can legitimately be held by anyone who claims the name of Anglican. The purist position was articulated well by Dr Ian Paul who, speaking on BBC Newsnight recently, said this: “To say that there is a plurality of views [about same sex marriage] is to claim that the two different views are of equal value and of equal significance … the 2016 Primates’ Meeting said that the moves in North America are a fundamental departure from the faith.” The full quote does more justice to the Primates, “Recent developments in the Episcopal Church with respect to a change in their Canon on marriage represent a fundamental departure from the faith and teaching held by the majority of our Provinces on the doctrine of marriage.” The Primates didn’t unchurch the North Americans by this statement, they didn’t claim that the American Church is apostate because it has changed its marriage canons, and they didn’t claim the historic view held by the majority is one universally held, as developments since 2016 have shown. So, while the Primates expressed dismay at the emergence of same-sex marriage in The Episcopal Church, the predominant theme then, as now with Lambeth 2022, is of ‘walking together’. Dr Paul allows the rhetorical moment to get the better of him, and he claims more than the Primates do. Still, he articulates the purist view with skill and passion: there can be no compromise. Changes to the teaching on marriage imply it’s time to walk apart.

    It seems to me that purists want not just to uphold the historic teaching of the church; they want to impose and reassert their view on all Anglicans, whatever position scholarship, prayer and pastoral discernment directs our conscience towards, whatever the historic polity of the Communion allows. Delegitimising sincerely held matters of conscience is as profoundly un-Anglican and un-Reformed as it is unworkable. It is a form of theological totalitarianism.

    Alongside the conservative purists are those who I might describe as principled but pragmatic. Perhaps adopting the wisdom of Gamaliel, these hold their principled opposition to any non-heterosexually married sexual activity, while recognising that progressives are part of the Church of England (and the Anglican Communion) and that they are likely to remain so. For these conservatives, what they are looking for is some form of provision rather than simply suppression of their opponents. For example, take the position of the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) in its 2016 paper Guarding the Deposit. Having first articulated what seems like a purist view, namely a reassertion of traditional sexual ethics while disciplining more effectively those who live outside of this sexual ethic, the author then moves on to what is described as ‘visible differentiation’, an ecclesiological solution in a church which is not prepared to enforce the purist view. This is both principled and at the same time pragmatic, for it opens the possibility that a future Church of England might remain made up of conservatives and progressives, albeit in a very different ecclesiological structure.[1]

    There is much that I baulk at in Guarding the Deposit, ecclesiologically-speaking, although it is interesting to ponder, building on the insightful arguments of Neil Patterson in a recent Via Media article, what ecclesiological compromises could become necessary for progressives if the opportunity to make progress on LGBT+ inclusion genuinely existed. But that is for the future. What I think we can acknowledge, however tenuously, is that the official position of the main Evangelical lobby group in the Church of England can foresee a shape to the Church of England where both conservatives and progressives can ‘walk together’, even if (what I would describe as) progress towards the full inclusion of LGBT+ people were made. I don’t think this has been sufficiently recognised.

    So, if this is the case, I think two clear consequences flow. First, the argument has moved on from purist versus progressive, and there is little value at the moment in progressives in engaging with purists in any meaningful sense. They hold their position with principle and passion, and inevitably they will be a vocal presence in social media. But nothing will satisfy them until people like me change our views, or shut our mouths, or leave our partners, or abandon the ministry of the Church of England altogether. None of that is going to happen, not least because God and his Church keep calling and ordaining LGBTI+ clergy. Purists have nothing to offer the post-LLF church except more conflict. Instead, I think progressives should start treating those who are principled but pragmatic conservatives with greater seriousness and respect, acknowledging their consciences as much as they must acknowledge ours. As we approach the end of the LLF process and are inspired by it, this is where future conversations will need to happen.

    Secondly, and this will be a particular challenge to those who have purist tendencies on the progressive side of the Church, we will have to compromise on what we talk about, how we talk about it and the way we talk about it. Painful and challenging as it may be for us to go through the familiar dissection of our most intimate feelings and sense of ourselves, we have to listen to our principled, pragmatic conservative colleagues without rushing to judgment; we might believe they are wrong, cruel, missionally-misguided or even a safeguarding risk to LGBTI+ people,[2] but just as we find it profoundly upsetting and beyond tiresome to be called sinners by conservatives, they do not find it at all easy to listen to or accept what we say if it is regularly coated with liberal judgmentalism, which is just our more coded way of calling them sinners too. We must learn to talk about what we want and the consequences not just for us but for them, and to explore the sort of issues that emerge for them should LLF produce a more progressive outcome than the current status quo.

    The Good Friday Agreement was an agreement between two parties who were principled and pragmatic, led by Gerry Adams and the late David Trimble; the purists in Northern Ireland, led by Ian Paisley, campaigned vigorously against it, but eventually even they agreed to work within the settlement that emerged and was democratically settled. That is not to say that things are at all easy in the Six Counties, but at least the Armalite has been replaced by the ballot box. Most progressives and principled, pragmatic conservatives probably would live with the ecclesiastical equivalent of a Good Friday Agreement in the Church of England. We certainly need a long-term settlement on which trust can be built.

    So maybe now is the time for the principled pragmatists on both sides to emerge. Perhaps, in God’s mercy, they can be the right men and women, in the right place at the right time too.

     

    [1] It is worth noting that Guarding the Deposit seeks provision for conservatives, which is only one way provision could be made; a wider conversation is necessary – whatever progressives like me want, we recognise that it is not what the Church of England has ever done in the past. It is we who are seeking provision at a different level.
    [2] A matter for safeguarding professionals in my view; being LGBTI in and of itself does not make someone a vulnerable adult.

     

  • Lambeth: Colonialism, Power and Pawns

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

     

    It’s fair to say that the Lambeth Conference hasn’t – I think – worked out quite the way the Archbishop wanted it to. For months – years, even – we were told that it would focus on the things we share in common, rather than digging the sexuality hole all over again. Much water has gone under the bridge since 1998, and the facts on the ground show that Lambeth I:10 is no longer a serious statement of how things are within the communion. That ship has sailed.

    Yet there it was – that pernicious and unhelpful 1998 resolution – back in view as the Archbishop released his Calls, for which one could vote yes, or ‘sort of yes’, but not ‘no’. And now the Lambeth Calls team – a seemingly impenetrable (and very male) group unable to answer simple questions like who finalised the calls, or did the Archbishop see them before publication – have had to strike the totally unnecessary and divisive ‘reaffirmation’ of Lambeth I:10 from the drafts. It didn’t have to be this way. Someone made the choice that it should be – and whoever that is (and we may never find out, given the disgraceful lack of transparency) should really take some basic lessons in crisis management and avoidance.

    Of course, we are where we are. We find ourselves in a place where the damage has mostly been done, yet only a naïve Anglican-watcher would believe that the story ends here. We await more manoeuvrings, more angry words and more kicking around of LGBTQI people as the political football they so conveniently and often are for the Church of England.

    Yet out of the ashes of this monumental bin-fire, some good has come. For once, LGBTQI people have heard bishops – yes, really – standing up for them. Strong, prophetic, pro-LGBTQI voices have come from across the pond, but also from provinces outside of the US and Canada. Even in our own Church of England, a number of bishops have also stood up and been counted. This is a most welcome sign, and one which I hope and believe will be reflected once again during the conclusion of LLF. Perhaps this is the turning point. That said, those bishops who chose silence – remember, silence is never a neutral position – have also cemented their place in the history books when this sorry saga is finally over. This was not a time for behind-the-scenes machinations – LGBTQI people, and their tears, need to be seen, acknowledged, loved. Not to even bother sympathising with the pain of LBGTQI people – whatever episcopal theological perspective is held – is inexplicable.

    Yet there have been two quite malign themes that have been flowing through the dialogue from those who oppose LBGTQI liberation. The first, which is quite simply not true, is that young people are drawn to churches with an oppressive view on LGBTQI people and marriage. There is absolutely zero evidence that this is the case, but – as usual – if you say it loudly, robustly and often enough, people start to believe it. The key thing, of course, is that even where these ‘conservative’ churches have more young people in them, that doesn’t account for the millions of kids and young people who don’t go to any church. Are we seriously arguing that they are more likely to attend a church which tells them that their queer friends – or they themselves – shouldn’t get married? That is likely to be about as welcome to them as sticking pins in their eyes. Only an inward-facing church would reserve its rejoicing for those who are already within the tent. Meanwhile, LGBTQI people (and increasingly their allies, friends, relatives) are failed and won’t come within a mile of a church, however good the music or lighting.

    But the second line that has been taken relates to colonialism. This one takes more unpacking but, once it is unpacked, the deeply unchristian and disingenuous ground beneath it begins to reveal itself.

    Noises have been made – and were made, during the recent discussions to nominate more people from around the communion to the CNC – that a western church favouring LBGTQI inclusion should not dictate to the rest of the communion. It has been for this reason – however well intentioned – that nobody (or at least, almost nobody) in the Church of England’s hierarchy appears to have felt able to say anything positive about LGBTQI people or their marriages. There is – and there should be – a real sensitivity to colonialist language and actions from those in the Church of England. Racism and colonialism remain deeply embedded in our church. The problem is that the recent solution at General Synod – strongly supported by the Archbishop of York – will do nothing whatsoever to address this.

    The reality is that the Anglican Communion – or rather, a Communion that claims ‘by right’ that the role of primus inter pares belongs to the Archbishop of Canterbury – is institutionally racist and colonialist. It doesn’t matter how many people you add to the Canterbury CNC (and please note, the point that the new members from the Communion won’t have a majority was trumpeted as good news, a deeply concerning example of white power not quite being given up): so long as the Archbishop of the Province of Canterbury inevitably remains the head (using that term with much caution) of the Communion, we are stuck. England rules the waves. The change was nothing more than deckchairs on the Titanic – not that you would have gathered that from the crowing in the aftermath of the General Synod debate.

    Both LGBTQI people and Anglicans from the Global South are being reduced to pawns in a nasty little English power struggle. The fact is that whilst the Archbishop has an inevitable Communion role, the Church of England has no leadership of its own. Yet what is also true is that whilst England holds the position it does in the Communion, there will always be the risk of colonialism. That’s not about LGBTQI people – it’s about the underlying structures and nature of the Communion itself. It suits those who oppose LBGTQI liberation to focus on the ‘Communion’ role of the Archbishop – but this is nothing whatsoever to do with the lives of ordinary Global South Anglicans – it is all about power. In this worst of both possible worlds, England is silent – and yet holds all the strings.

    TEC, Canada and the rest did indeed make a big stink about what happened with the Lambeth calls – as they should have. This was not because they were forcing their will on the assembly but because they were advocating for their queer disciples against a Call sprung upon them with no notice, and against which they could not vote. Bait and switch. Those who opposed them were welcome to disagree. The issue is that the President of the Lambeth Conference – the person who takes ultimate responsibility – is … the Archbishop of Canterbury. It’s Colonialism 101. It is surely time for that to change – yet so often the English people calling ‘colonialism’ to beat down LBGTQI people are the same as those calling for the Archbishop’s primus role to remain. It is all about power.

    It is now time to call an end to the pitting of LBGTQI Christians against the Global South. We need a root and branch review of how we operate, and to reimagine the Communion for the twenty-first century. We must lay down our claim to power and instead move to a communion built on true equality, solidarity, friendship and companionship. Yes, people may leave – from all directions. But at least it will be built on honesty, and not on the backs of the oppressed.

    Ends, not means, as Kant once said. If we can’t do that as a church, then we cease to be a church at all.

     

     

  • Equal Marriage: The Argument Has Moved On…

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

    Readers of this blog may recall that in 2021 I wrote about the motion passed by Hereford Diocesan Synod in 2017 calling for services of prayer and dedication for same-sex couples, and the possible ways in which it might lead to a diversity of practice in the Church of England.  The idea has received a decent amount of comment, both positive and negative, but I returned from the recent General Synod at York wondering if everyone has now moved on to a different page.  Increasingly it feels as if everyone wants to talk about marriage, whether its unchangeability, or that it should be opened to same-sex couples.  There are many aspects to this, but I want to mention just three, and then consider where this may lead us as a Church.

    The first is that the social backdrop to our discussions has changed.  Same-sex marriage has only been a legal reality in England since 2014, and even when the Hereford motion was in the planning, it still seemed to at least some of us that same-sex relationships were not quite the same as marriages, whether from tradition or familiarity with the ‘similar-but-different’ civil partnerships.  Now, however, the language of marriage for same-sex couples – including the easy use of ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ – has become completely normalised in society and the media.  In itself that does not, of course, have any specific consequences for Christians judging what is right in the sight of God.  But it does mean that the existing rich Christian imagery of marriage as the form of permanent covenant, symbolising God’s faithfulness to his people, now appeals naturally as a way to express the faithfulness of Christian same-sex relationships.  And this is all the more so when, as in the gay male world, monogamous faithfulness can sometimes appear a minority option.

    The second related shift arises from reflections I have heard on the Hereford motion proposal.  On the one hand, there is a fear that in a politically difficult and divided Church, if it were to be approved, it would – like other settlements in the past – prove difficult to move on from, leaving same-sex partnered Anglicans in England trapped in permanent second-best.  On the other hand, precisely because it would seem unsatisfactory, the Church could be trapped in ongoing years of wrangling between those seeking, and those opposing, further change.  The official recognition (even if not ‘blessing’, as the motion makes clear) of a class of relationships outside marriage also raises wider questions.  Perhaps raising these questions is not the best way towards stability and the much-needed focus on mission and growth in the Church.  Both these two shifts of emphasis were evident in a fringe meeting at Synod of the Gender and Sexuality Group of those campaigning for change, and I write about them here to share the listening from that meeting and continue the dialogue.

    One of the benefits of General Synod, though, is the chance to talk with those from other viewpoints whom one knows through unrelated connections like (in my case) discernment work, or revising legislation.  Some of those I talked to are connected to the Church of England Evangelical Council, who have set out in public papers on their website their arguments against any recognition of same-sex relationships by the Church.  The striking thing, both from these conversations and their most recent film output, is that they do not see the compromise of some sort of service for same-sex couples as particularly helpful.  If the Church recognises same-sex sexual relationships in any way, then that is the conscience-invoking point for them.  Such relationships might as well be marriages as anything else, and indeed if they were marriages then this would avoid the complexity of recognising a different category of relationships, a category that would complicate expectations for opposite-sex couples.  Of course their strongest conviction is against any official recognition of same-sex couples at all.

    What does this mean for the outcome of the Living in Love & Faith process?  Well, it means that the bishops, meeting residentially three times in the autumn, probably have a headache.  But it may mean that, somewhat to my own surprise, the debate is shifting: it is not about how the Church of England will recognise same-sex couples, but about when it will allow equal marriage.  The headache, though, is how to make that possible for those of us who seek it (both for ourselves and for the Church) and those whose consciences will not allow it.  A helpful comment from one of my conservative colleagues was that, as a minister, he believed that he had a duty to teach that same-sex relationships were not only something undesirable which he would not want to do, or have in his church, but that they are positively harmful.  I disagree, obviously, but that is not going to make any difference to his convictions.  The challenge is to consider what degree of fellowship would be possible from such a stance with those of us adopting equal marriage.

    My sincere hope is that we can learn from the 1980s, when very much the same questions arose around the ordination of women, and spend fewer years struggling to find a solution which is comparably unsatisfactory for all concerned.  The controversy today about the draft Lambeth Call is also a reminder that whatever path we take, we do so against an established diversity in the Anglican Communion. Whatever contribution they make to the debates at Lambeth, I pray that the bishops of the Church of England will return to the task in the autumn renewed in the value of diversity, and ready to seek a way forward with imagination and vigour.

     

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     

     

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

     

     

  • Wanting to be One: The Rural Church Today

    by Claire Lording, Vicar of the Benefice in Pershore in the Diocese of Worcester and member of General Synod. Along with fellow parish priest Jo Stobart, she is standing as a ‘pair’ for election to the Crown Nominations Commission

     

    “I don’t like the countryside. It’s a soggy sort of place full of birds and animals wandering around uncooked.” Not my words, but those of Lady Bradley, a completely fictitious Victorian detective who graced our screens at the end of the last century. The truth is though that many people don’t like the countryside. Rural communities are too often misunderstood and defined by what can make them challenging places to live in. Yes, they can be beautiful places, but realistically they can also be isolating, hard to reach, lacking local amenities, ageing, home to stressed-out farmers, places of a variety of views including some very conservative opinions, and full of churches struggling to be Kingdom People with never quite enough volunteers or congregation. But they are also, most importantly, places where things can and do really happen.

    I’ve always ministered in rural communities and rural market towns and have never ceased to be thankful for the ‘can do’ attitude that these communities have had. The rural community has a deep sense of the value of relationships and of being immersed in the place that it is, so there is often a sense of simply getting on with life, inside and outside the Church. The seasons come and go and the community, as place and people, is still there, having weathered whatever storm or challenge has come its way. Not without cost or a sense of loss, but with a great degree of resilience. Perhaps in a rural environment where we see creation and the land around us grow, flourish and die, year after year, we have come to live with the reality of death and the possibility of resurrection and new life in a more natural way than others may experience.

    Perhaps this goes some way to explaining why in the rural places I’ve been there has never been an issue with the ordination of women to the priesthood, and then to the episcopate. Relationships really do matter in small communities, and it is these which count more than anything else because people are hopefully not anonymous folks down the road, but individuals with names and stories to share. Whether consciously, or unconsciously, people in rural communities are working at being one, knowing that this is how their community will continue and have the best chance of thriving.

    With all this experience, it shouldn’t have surprised me that, when the Living in Love and Faith course was launched, the parishes I work with would appreciate the opportunity to get involved. Not in huge numbers, but certainly enough to feel that we could contribute to the conversation. And what was most beautiful was the conversations we shared. People came with open minds and a sense of trust because the people round the Zoom screen or round the table were not complete strangers. Here were people from the same communities who were committed to listening to each other because that’s how we can best live together.

    There were differences of opinion and thinking as views were shared and we were always mindful of those not present, whose thoughts might have been more challenging in their conservatism. But those who were present remembered, at all times, that there was diversity on the screen or in the room. It was a privilege to see how some people moved from a place of having a deeply-held traditional understanding of marriage, to being insistent that everyone should be able to get married in Church, and what could we do about it? There was also real understanding of those who wanted to hold on to their traditionally held views about marriage; a sense that we will respect and honour each other, even when we don’t agree.

    There was a depth of compassion and a real desire to do more – to do everything we possibly could – for everybody in our churches and community, however they choose to identify themselves. This was the coming together of a group of people who wanted to be one, because they knew that God sees us as one and that we are so much better when we can be who we are meant to be in God’s sight, without fear or uncertainty.

    This was all wonderful and gave me great encouragement that the Church, in rural places and beyond, might be ready to take the next step to being more actively inclusive. Then we went a step further. After successfully using our new coloured lighting to light up Pershore Abbey tower in red, white and blue for the Platinum Jubilee, we had a community request to light our tower in the Pride flag colours. Not a problem, said the church! And then our social media volunteer put together a Pride display outside our community centre. Fantastic, said the church!

    Sharing in the LLF process, lighting a tower, or displaying a Pride flag are small and simple actions, but ones that shout out how forward-looking and inclusive the rural church and rural communities can be. They show that the Church can gently get on with the task of being open and welcoming to all. The rural Church may often be underestimated, but for the time being we will just get on being the best version of Church we know how to be.

  • Living in Love and Faith? Insights from the Church of Scotland

    by Professor Paul Middleton, Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity at the University of Chester, and a Church of Scotland Minister

    Last month, the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland passed legislation to permit its Ministers and Deacons to conduct and solemnise same-sex marriages. The legislation is permissive, and the rights of those Ministers who choose not to conduct same-sex weddings are protected in Church as well as Civil Law. While the Quakers, Scottish Episcopal Church, United Reformed Church and Methodists have already authorised same-sex marriage, and the Church in Wales last year agreed to bless such marriages, the Church of Scotland is now the largest denomination in the UK to do so. How might this move by the National (distinct from ‘Established’) Church in Scotland affect current discussions in the Church of England as it nears the end of the Living in Love and Faith process?

    In common with virtually every church around the world, the Church of Scotland has wrestled with questions of sexuality, and same-sex relationships in particular. Unsurprisingly, the Kirk originally took a strongly negative view, even initially opposing the setting up of the Wolfenden Committee. However, by the late 1980s, opinion became more divided, and some Ministers began offering services of blessings for same-sex couples. It is widely believed that conducting a blessing was the reason the Rev Margaret Forrester, one of the first women to be ordained, was never elected Moderator of the General Assembly.

    Assembly reports through the 1990s and 2000s held conservative and liberal positions on sexuality in tension as the Church declined to either reaffirm a traditionalist position or endorse more revisionist positions. This was typified in 2006 when the Church refused to ban Ministers from conducting same-sex blessings, but also refused to guarantee those who participated in such blessings could not be subject to disciplinary procedures.

    This uneasy truce was shattered in 2009 when a group of traditionalists challenged the decision of Aberdeen Presbytery to sustain the call of the Rev Scott Rennie, who was in a same-sex relationship, to Queen’s Cross Church. While Rennie was by no means the only Church of Scotland Parish Minister in a same-sex relationship, the action against the Presbytery brought the issue into the open, and began one of the most turbulent periods in the Church’s recent history. General Assembly sided with Aberdeen Presbytery, but agreed to set up a special commission to report on the legal and theological issues raised, while imposing a moratorium on ministers, boards, and courts of the church from making any further comment for two years.

    In 2011, the Special Commission offered the Church two trajectories; one affirming a ‘traditionalist’ approach to sexuality and marriage, which would end any future ordination of Ministers in same-sex relationships, the other a ‘revisionist’ path towards explicitly affirming the place of gay Ministers in the Church. Instead of advocating either path, the Commission allowed arguments for the two contrary positions to sit side by side in the report. While debates over sexuality often make claims about what is ‘biblical’ or ‘unbiblical’, in the report both sides of the argument were dominated by the interpretation of Scripture.

    The Church of Scotland holds that Scripture has a non-negotiable place as ‘the supreme rule of faith and life’, but it also fully embraces the insights of Biblical Criticism. Even ‘conservative’ reports from the 1980s and 1990s explicitly recognised that those equally committed to Scripture can reach different conclusions on this and other important issues. The main interpretative division between the two parts of the 2011 report was essentially over the difference biblical criticism makes to contemporary application. In 2011 the revisionist trajectory narrowly prevailed (56%/44%), but in all subsequent divisions confirming this trajectory from 2013 onwards, the vote has been consistently nearer to a 2:1 majority.

    In 2015, Assembly finally passed legislation to allow congregations to call Ministers in same-sex Civil Partnerships and Marriage. It recognised that a significant minority in the Church did not support this move. Their consciences are protected in what has become known as ‘constrained difference’, in which a variety of views and practices are held, respected, and protected within the Church of Scotland.

    What about the Church of England? Decades of inconclusive, aborted reports have not only entrenched already polarised positions, but have resulted in an increasingly intolerable tension between the theoretical ‘official’ position of the Church and the reality on the ground. Issues in Human Sexuality, the ‘official’ Bishops’ teaching statement, dates from 1991 and is an outworking of a conservative 1987 General Synod resolution. It states ‘clergy [as distinct from the laity!] cannot claim the liberty to enter into sexually active homophile [sic!!] relationships.’ However, the fact is that many are. Probably the most bizarre expression of this tension is that while Priests have been permitted to enter into Civil Partnerships since 2013, the Church of England (uniquely) persuaded itself that this was little more than an expression of ‘close friendship’. Unlike the Church of Scotland and the Church in Wales, the Church of England has never really acknowledged the presence of gay Priests, either to explicitly affirm their place in the Church or to enact disciplinary procedures against them. Moreover, in February’s General Synod, the Bishop of London effectively side-lined Issues by suggesting it was never designed to have an official place in the ordination process. A Private Members’ Motion from Rev Mae Christie has recently been tabled, asking ‘That this Synod request that the House of Bishops remove any requirements relating to Issues in Human Sexuality from the Vocations (Shared Discernment) Process.’

    The Church of England already lives with a tense and unacknowledged ‘constrained difference’. Living and Love and Faith appears to be preparing the ground for at least beginning the journey to officially recognising that there is theological and biblical integrity in a range of positions. For what it is worth, it seems to me that agreeing to live with constrained difference on sexuality is far simpler than the Church’s current compromise on women Bishops, since it is effectively recognising what is already the case.

  • Hanging in Love and Faith

    Revd Canon Dr Judith Maltby is Chaplain, Fellow and Dean of Welfare of Corpus Christi College, Reader in Church History in the University of Oxford, and a member of the General Synod of the Church of England.

    At the beginning of May, Mark Chapman wrote a piece for this blog about how theological understandings of natural law have shaped the church’s view of sexuality far more than readings of biblical texts and provided valuable historical context as to why that is significant to our present debates. Like Mark, I served on the History Work Stream of Living in Love and Faith and agree with his assessment that, in the end, the discipline of history has largely been marginalized from the LLF final material. There is much that is good about LLF, but there remains an underlying assumption concerning the continuity of Christian belief about human sexuality until, well, this thing called Modernity happened and disrupted the common doctrinal framework. As Helen King, another colleague from that History Work Stream commented on the Shared Conversations process which preceded LLF, “it was clear that history only began in the 1960s”.

    The History Work Stream was a diverse group in terms of our views, but we all agreed historical contexts matter and set ourselves an initial task of writing short papers exploring case studies of when “the church changed its mind” about something “big”. As a historian of the English Long Reformation, I chose clerical marriage. What might surprise some readers is that, after the Reformation, church and state continued to maintain that celibacy was the “ideal” state for the clergy. Clerical marriage was not a positive good, but pragmatic because some clergy just couldn’t keep their cassocks on; it was better to let them marry in order to regulate their sexual urges. To many Tudors, clergy marriage, as it said now of same sex partnerships, fell short of the “ideal”.  (You can find my fuller argument on the LLF Hub.)

    Let’s take another case – surely one of greater moral consequence than marriage: is it moral for the state, after a judicial process, to take a life? We don’t know how this question would break down among current members of the General Synod, but anyone upholding “traditional Christian teaching” would, by that reasoning, favour its re-introduction in the UK. Christian thinkers as diverse as St Paul, Aquinas and Calvin can be enlisted in its defence. Article 37 of the 39 Articles of the Church of England (1563), to which all ordained ministers of the Established Church assent, states that “the Laws of the Realm may punish Christian men with death, for heinous and grievous offences”. Anglicans were not alone. In 1566 the Council of Trent of the Roman Catholic Church reaffirmed the morality of the death penalty: “the just use of this power [capital punishment], far from involving the crime of murder, is an act of paramount obedience to Commandment which prohibits murder”.  In the hothouse of sixteenth-century Europe, on this issue at least, there was consensus between the mega-churches, although even then there were voices of dissent amongst radical Protestants, which only united Roman Catholics and mainstream Protestants in persecuting them. Looking back, it is a pretty uncomfortable example of ecumenical convergence.

    In the twentieth century, a substantial sea change for Anglicans and other Christians occurred. In 1958, the General Convention of the American Episcopal Church passed a resolution urging its abolition – a moral question that is still dreadfully live for Episcopalians over sixty years later. Three decades later the Anglican Communion’s Lambeth Conference also voted for abolition; given the number of countries in the world which still retain capital punishment, a Lambeth Conference might want to revisit the question. In 1995, John Paul II hedged his bets and rather than declaring an absolute ban argued that execution should only be used “in cases of absolute necessity”, maintaining (optimistically) that because of the progress in penal systems, “such cases are very rare, if not practically non-existent”. However, in 2018, Pope Francis pronounced an absolute prohibition on capital punishment as a violation of the dignity of the human person in Catholic teaching, putting him at odds with countries such as the US, China, and Nigeria as well as with laity and clergy of his own church.

    In Britain, as with the abolition of the trade in human beings, non-conformist Christians led the charge against hanging. But even the bishops of the Established Church could be converted and play a part via their seats in the House of Lords. In 1948, only one bishop, George Bell of Chichester, clearly supported abolition in the Lords; in 1956 eight bishops voted for suspension and one against.  In the 1960s, nineteen bishops voted for abolition and only one against. How do we account for this episcopal “change of mind” on such a “big” moral question? In his essay “God and the Gallows” (2004), the distinguished historian Hugh McLeod suggested that the twentieth century saw a move away from a theology of salvation based on understanding the cross as punishment for sin to an incarnational emphasis on God becoming human in Christ. It strengthened the view that all human life was sacred, and by the 1960s this soteriology was reflected on the episcopal bench. In other words, punishment was no longer key to the narrative of human salvation. McLeod also argues that British Christians who considered all parts of the Bible ‘equally authoritative’ and took a literalist approach displayed the strongest support for the death penalty prior to its abolition in 1965.

    2025 will be only the sixtieth anniversary of the abolition of capital punishment in Britain – less than a lifetime ago.  It was a momentous moral achievement in which the leaders of the Church of England, by and large, followed from behind rather than led from the front.  Sound familiar?

  • Being a Gay Christian and an Ordinand in the Church in Wales

    by Professor Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones, Professor in Ancient History at Cardiff University and an ordinand in the Church in Wales

    ‘I do not think that others who have gone before you perjured themselves, and I do not believe when your time comes that you will perjure yourself either.’ These words were spoken to me about a month ago by the Bishop of Llandaff when she met with me to iron out the details of the training I will undertake on my route to ordination as a priest in the Church in Wales. Bishop June Osborne was referring to my championing of the sacraments and the pledge I will have to take to respect and uphold them when my ordination ceremony takes place.

    You see, I am a gay Christian man who is legally married to another gay Christian man. We have been married for a decade and, in fact, our marriage did receive a blessing from a priest-cum-friend who, having done the deed, turned to our wedding guests and stated boldly, ‘Never let anyone tell you that what you have witnessed here today is not sanctified by God through his love for this couple.’ Our marriage would not have felt real without that blessing, without having God’s presence with us at that time and forever as we live our married life together. God is part of our family; He is in our home, and we carry Him in our hearts and try to do what He would have us do as much as we can.

    So, the Bishop of Llandaff was right: I will not perjure myself when I take the ordination vow to uphold Christian marriage, for I feel that in my daily life, every single day, I uphold that sacred institution. I have never struggled with my sexuality. I was aware of being ‘gay’ – whatever that means, for believe me, gentle readers, there is no limit to the cosmic-sized definition of that tiny little word – from a young age. But I was also acutely aware of being loved by God. Sure, did I not sing about it at the top of my voice at every Sunday School? “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

    Karl Barth famously stated that in that line was a summation of all the years of hard work he had put into his theology. I believed it then and I believe it now, although after 54 years on this earth, and having given a lot of thought to whom I am and how God moves in my life, I found another scriptural mantra: ‘I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made’. Let’s put that verse into the context of Psalm 139 and as you read it think about how God has made you His own bespoke creation too. I am no better than you; you are no worse than me; we are created as one-off pieces of humanity. Let’s think about how the Psalmist puts it then:

    You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.
    You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.
    You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.
    Before a word is on my tongue
    you, Lord, know it completely.
    You hem me in behind and before,
    and you lay your hand upon me.
    Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.
    Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?
    If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
    If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
    even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.
    If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
    even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you.
    For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
    I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
    My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
    Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

    God has made me – and you – to be exactly who we should be. God didn’t make a mistake when he made me and somehow placed that ‘gay gene’ in me. It was His plan from the beginning – because ‘I am fearfully and wonderfully made’. The ‘thing’ that is particular to you, is your God-given ‘thing’. And sure, we have many faults and many things to put right – the bad behaviours we have picked up on the path of life – but the essence of you is crafted, specially, singularly, by God for you.

    I once heard Archbishop Rowan Williams talk about the late, great Archbishop Desmond Tutu: ‘Archbishop Tutu was the best at being Archbishop Tutu that Archbishop Tutu could ever be.’ I have confidence that I can be the best that I can be because God made me to be me. People who scorn me, mock me, deride me because of my ‘gayness’ (again, whatever that means or however that manifests itself), simply do not see that I am ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’ – maybe because, sadly, they have not seen yet how ‘fearfully and wonderfully’ they are made too. I pray to God that may open their eyes to show them how differently special they are to Him too.

    It is with confidence that I take the next step towards my ordination. When God is for us, who can be against us, right? And although there will be dissenting voices, I have no doubt, am putting my feet onto a path paved with godliness – for I have every trust in the Church in Wales, the most liberal, accepting, (and yes, let’s admit it) Christian of the Anglican Churches of the UK. Last year, the Church in Wales took the decision to allow for church blessings of gay marriages. The Church also repented of its persecution of gay and other minority people over the centuries. The Church in Wales’ decision is a visionary step forward and the Church in Wales, I predict, will soon sanction gay marriages in church. This is why I am proud to be a member of the Church in Wales and why I want to work for it and in it: it is progressive.

    Do not think all is sweetness and light here in Wales though. Some conservative churchgoers in Wales – heck, some clergy – will find what I have written here heretical, ungodly even. There is a vocal, vicious, group of internet Church in Wales ‘Christians’ who have already condemned several out gay men and women clergy as ‘decadent’, ‘unnatural’, and ‘perverse’. I’m sure I will be a target for their vitriol too. But they are far from Christ and I pray that they may find Him in their hearts. Bishop June, who is a great support to gay Christians, as she is to all Christians (after all, we approach the faith from many angles), said to me, ‘you might want to think about being prepared to defend yourself.’ I am as grateful for her wisdom and her frankness as I am for her championship.

    So, I’ve thought long and hard about my position of defence. And to be honest, it really doesn’t get better than this: ‘Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so’.

     

  • Living in Love and Faith: The Ozanne Foundation Responds

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

    Here is the response of the Ozanne Foundation.

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

    1. Overview of LLF

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

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

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

    1. What Next?

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

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

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

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

    Yours sincerely

    Very Revd Joe Hawes, Chair, Ozanne Foundation

    Jayne Ozanne, Director, Ozanne Foundation

    April 27th 2022