ViaMedia

Category: Mental Health

  • Be Kind

    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 and is Vicar of the parishes of Cuddington and of Stone, Dinton and Hartwell. He is dyslexic and a member of the Church of England’s Neurodiversity Working Group.

    An extraordinary article entitled Nonsense and Neurodivergence in response to our motion as the Neurodiversity Working Group to General Synod has just been posted on The Critic website by Andrew Tettenborn – a Professor of private, commercial and maritime law at the University of Swansea.

    I wanted to reply directly but The Critic does not appear to allow for comments on their opinion pieces and while the Critic tells us that Tettenborn tweets at @seatradelaw – that X handle does not exist. It appears that The Critic does not like debate and dialogue, just shouting into an echo chamber.

    Tettenborn’s key criticism comes in the penultimate paragraph where he says:

    The chief difficulty with this document is that, though produced in a religious environment and making a nod to religious ideas, it is actually almost entirely secular in approach, interestingly not containing a single reference to scripture. The twenty-first century mantra Be Kind runs through it like the letters in a stick of rock.

    Kindness – far from a twenty-first century mantra – is a key Biblical concept central to the Biblical faith. Here are just 8 examples:

    1. Ephesians 4:32
      Be kind to one another.
    2. 1 Corinthians 13:4
      Love is patient; love is kind.
    3. Galatians 5:22
      The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. 
    4. Micah 6:8
      He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
          and what does the Lord require of you
      but to do justice, and to love kindness,
          and to walk humbly with your God?
    5. Proverbs 21:21
      Whoever pursues righteousness and kindness will find life and honour
    6. Colossians 3:12
      As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.
    7. Matthew 25:34-36
      Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”
    8. Zechariah 7:9 (ESV)
      Thus says the Lord of hosts: Render true judgements, show kindness and mercy to one another.

    The mantra of the age is rather that of conflict and disparaging others. The temptation is to be cruel not kind and I find no Biblical consensus in favour of cruelty.

    We are proud that Ephesians 4:32 runs through our motion like the letters in a stick of rock: Paul told us to ‘be kind to one another’.

    Theology informs all that we do as the Neurodiversity Working Group. We are not driven by a secular ‘human rights’ agenda: rather we are energised by the Scriptures that call out for diversity and inclusion. We remember 1 Cor 1:26 ‘Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.’

    We are energised by Paul’s description of the church as the Body of Christ.

    Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.

    Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be?

    The celebration of diversity and the inclusion of all is a core doctrine of the church. Just read any of the gospels and see how Jesus welcomes the outcast and challenges the powerful.

    Along with kindness, another key Biblical word runs through our thinking and that is flourishing. Jesus said he came to bring life and life in all its fullness (John 10:10). Our aim is for all to find this fullness as individuals, collectively as a church and for this flourishing to be embraced in society.

    Tettenborn thinks I am someone with ‘mental issues’ and unsuitable to be a vicar. All through my time in the Church of England I have faced unnecessary barriers because of my dyslexia. I was not considered capable of much in the Church of England, so I went to work for the Anglican Communion worldwide and ended up solving problems for Archbishops of Canterbury and working alongside primates, bishops, and some of the most impressive lay people imaginable. I have a PhD in theology, I’ve written or edited serious books, advised bishops and archbishops, preached at numerous cathedrals around the world, pioneered effective peace initiatives, inspired successful charities, and, now I am back in parish ministry I am highly regarded -especially by children who love my storytelling.

    Tettenborn thinks it is ‘no disrespect to say to anyone [that is me] that they are not fitted for this role.’ I have my faults – and just like Archbishop Sarah says, dyslexia makes you very aware of your failings – but I have not done badly. I do think it is disrespectful.

    To me, Tettenborn’s article sounds like a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. In response, we should eagerly desire the greater gifts: faith, hope and love. The greatest of these is love and love is kind.

    I didn’t get that from a trendy woke writer – it comes from the heart of the Bible.

  • The Cost of Calling: Then and Now

    by the Rev’d Chantal Noppen – National Coordinator of the Inclusive Church Network, North-East based Anglican Priest and member of General Synod for Durham Diocese

    Seventeen years ago, a woman priest was told she would receive zero maternity pay because she might “take the money and run.”

    The assumption was clear: motherhood made her suspect. Her vocation was conditional. At no point in her three years of training had anyone from her diocese spoken to her about maternity provision, even though she had given birth to a baby in her second year of training and was pregnant when she was ordained deacon.

    As she began her curacy: “The first thing the Diocesan Secretary told me was that I would receive my full stipend throughout my maternity leave. I was delighted by the simplicity and generosity of this which I felt reflected my own commitment and a relationship of trust between clergy and Diocese. However, the next day he called me back and said he was very sorry but having consulted with other Dioceses we did in fact have a standard maternity policy which had been adopted from ‘standard business practice’.

    “What this meant was that I received no maternity pay at all. The ‘standard policy’ he referred to (but had 24 hours earlier been completely unaware of) meant that as I had been an ’employee’ for less than 12 months at the time of the leave, I was not entitled to any maternity pay. A clause designed to stop people exploiting maternity pay in the business world perhaps – but a slap in the face when you’ve just given your whole life to God and the service of God’s church in ordination. I was not an employee. Did anyone really feel I was going to take the money and run?”

    Because she had been an actual employee while training part-time for ministry, she was fortunate enough to qualify for Statutory Maternity Pay. Those training full-time were not in this position.

    Two years ago, I co-authored an independent audit of diocesan maternity provision across the Church of England. The report documented inconsistency, opacity and, in some cases, failure to implement the national guidance issued four years earlier. Over 100 recommendations were made. Some dioceses have since improved their policies. That is genuinely welcome.

    But the deeper question remains: what does our system reveal about the actual value of women? The woman whose experience opens this story writes “I felt like as a woman my job was to do it all – to prove it could all be done. It never crossed my mind at the time to ask for more help, better provision or new ways of doing things.”

    At General Synod I asked about the financial provision behind our theological commitments. From 2019–2023 the Church Commissioners spent on average £497,000 per year on stipend and working costs for the four Provincial Episcopal Visitors, plus £67,500 annually in housing costs. The same body provides no funding specifically in support of the ministry of ordained women.

    The only national funding stream directed toward women’s development in 2023 was £73,000 from the Women’s Continuing Ministerial Education Trust, administered by the Archbishops’ Council, not the Commissioners, and available to lay, ordained or religious women, in both the Church of England and the Scottish Episcopal Church. This Trust is independent, and the CofE’s direct involvement is purely through some MinDiv support administratively. So we’re actually looking at over £550,000 versus nothing.

    Budgets are theology with spreadsheets.

    For thirty years we have structurally underwritten dissent. We have not structurally underwritten parity. We safeguard the inequitable status quo and struggle to raise up The Other. Justice isn’t cushioned.

    The maternity audit showed similar asymmetry at diocesan level. National guidelines were issued in 2020, yet implementation varies widely. In some dioceses maternity provision is clearly communicated and proactively managed. In others it depends on local interpretation, overstretched individuals or informal knowledge. While I have not done a similar audit on menopause policies and support, I have heard anecdotally that the same is true there. With the added aspect of the menopause being a far more uncomfortable topic to discuss openly, whereas women having babies is a bit more ‘acceptable’ to acknowledge.

    Policies may exist on paper, but the support to implement them and accountability if they are not, is missing. When I transferred part of my maternity leave as shared parental leave to my partner, whose NHS employer processed it smoothly, my diocese nearly failed to implement its own policy. Papers were misfiled. Approval came ten days before the transition was due. This stress was entirely avoidable.

    These are not dramatic scandals. They are accumulations of inequitable cost. They create stress at moments when clergy are already stretched.

    There is also what we do not measure. We lack robust national data on how many women are steered towards self-supporting ministry, house-for-duty posts, or part-time roles that in practice require full-time emotional and pastoral labour. We know this pattern exists. We hear it repeatedly. But without data, the system remains conveniently deniable.

    Part-time pay rarely equates to part-time expectation.

    Culture compounds structure. Male clergy often receive visible parish care when they become parents (or just arrive in a parish). Women encounter suspicion about their commitment. During maternity leave, some are strongly discouraged from maintaining friendships within their congregations, creating isolation at precisely the moment community is most needed. Add neurodivergent literalism or rigid interpretations of “boundary,” and what might be intended as good practice becomes damaging exclusion.

    None of this is catastrophic in isolation. Together, it is exhausting. It impacts mental health and well-being, and constantly adds burden and cost to day-to-day existence.

    It would be easy to frame this as resentment. It is not. It is about reciprocity.

    When women were first ordained, significant institutional resource was provided for those who could not accept that development. Generous financial settlements were negotiated. Housing was provided. Pensions protected. Some left for Rome. Some later returned. The Church absorbed that cost and continues to do so.

    Women, meanwhile, continue to have to argue and negotiate for clarity around maternity provision diocese by diocese, to have to justify childcare, part-time ministry, and shared leave. Women have absorbed the cost. We’ve been constantly treated as second rate and have to prove ourselves continually in a way that men are not required to.

    If we believe women are equally called, then structural equity is not an aspirational extra. It is an ecclesiological necessity.

    The 2024 audit prompted some positive changes. Several dioceses revised policies before publication. Others have committed to clearer communication and better provision. Scrutiny can work. Transparency and accountability work.

    But transparency must go further. We need national data on patterns of deployment. We need honest examination of whether women are disproportionately steered into precarious or under-remunerated roles. We need systems that do not rely on personal resilience, goodwill, or quiet endurance.

    Motherhood is not a deviation from priesthood. Shared parenting is not radical. Women’s bodies are not a pastoral inconvenience. Gender is not a spiritual failing.

    The question is no longer whether change is possible. It is whether we have the will to pursue it beyond the minimum required to avoid embarrassment.

    We often speak of mutual flourishing. Mutuality requires reciprocity. Flourishing requires investment.

    If our financial structures still cushion objection more consistently than they sustain embodiment, what does that reveal about whose vocation we are most anxious to protect? Who do we more value?

    That is not a rhetorical question.

     

     

  • Winded After the Death of LLF

    by the Very Revd David Monteith, Dean of Canterbury

    Much metaphorical ink has already been spilt on the announcement from the House of Bishops of the death of Living in Love and Faith (LLF).  These reflections add nothing to that discourse but are an attempt to articulate something of what this announcement does to the likes of me as a person.  I had intellectually concluded months ago that LLF was terminally ill, but the actual death notice has a far deeper impact.

    Firstly, the document was issued about a process not about people.  It wasn’t in any way a pastoral letter to the church. I used to mark draft pastoral letters on ordinand selection conferences.  This would not have cut muster.  The same depersonalising dynamics have gone on at nearly every stage of this process.  This just doesn’t upset one or two people as Archbishop Stephen suggested. This is gut wrenching and hurtful for those of us most impacted. It seems there is need to return to a basic course in pastoral care.

    Secondly, this multiplies our shame which so many of us have and still experience as LGBT+ people in our families, churches and neighbourhoods. Dealing with internalised homophobia is often a life’s work for many of us, with the kindly welcome and acceptance by our Christian communities often being a key part of that healing. I found my life and heart constrict as I received this news once again; being told loudly and clearly that our minority lives and loves must remain marginal, hidden and uncatered-for like a vegetarian in 1980s France.

    Thirdly, I am asked to carry the public shame of this as a priest and in my case as the Dean of Canterbury.  Images of our cathedral accompany the press stories of ‘bishops do U-turns on gay blessing’ headlines. No matter what I do or say or no matter how I care or try to love others here, the iconography is clear: that LGBT+ people are never fully welcome here.  I am embarrassed and feel a deep sense of personal moral injury without even any remaining left-over crumbs to offer.

    Fourthly, the social media storms of recent days about our graffiti exhibition so often focussed on the fact that we worked with marginalised communities. This means I was ‘woke’ and what else was to be expected since I was in a gay relationship.  These vulnerable young people asked far from marginal questions; they were those all of us might ask. The haters piled in with force and now they have even more reason to pile in again. What could I say when these young folks asked me if the church excluded them? What could I honestly say?

    Fifthly, I realise that all this is so niche and of none or little concern to many people in the church, unlike for those in the wider world who mostly do not comprehend why love does not mean love.  None of my clergy colleagues have enquired as to how I am doing.  No one from the bishop’s staff on which I sit have said a word. None have even alluded to noticing that the bishops had issued their conclusions. Nothing.  We are invisible despite being present and our cares and concerns are best kept to our own little minority lives.

    Sixthly, this invisibility intensifies all the other experiences of invisibility. For example, when giving a talk and the last part of my biography is omitted; when a bishop asked me to make sure my partner was not around when certain clergy visited; when as a new Dean I didn’t get invitations from the county set because they didn’t want to invite my partner but were too polite to want to enact a social snub so didn’t invite me either. Being told directly never to mention my sexuality when dealing with visiting bishops from the Communion unless they brought it up, because many would see me as possessed. Talk about making me disappear. So many active processes, not just passive assumptions.

    Seventhly, there is little likelihood of anything improving and every likelihood of things getting much worse for LGBT+ people.  Many agree that it is now far harder for us in the church than it was 30+ years ago. The tide is turning in the world with gains in equality now being questioned and many, including me, are fearful that what we see with far-right parties elsewhere, we may see here too. From early in ministry, I learnt to respect bishops but not to trust them.  I couldn’t begin to make a list of the broken promises and quiet assurances that ‘all will be well’. When the chips are down for the church, both the institution and her leaders find us an easy victim to hurt in playing out politics of so-called normality. Why else was my sexuality highlighted when I was trying to uphold safeguarding during the departure of the last archbishop?  I don’t think we can trust the church to defend us if such a terrible day came. We would not justify care.

    Eighthly, I have bent over backwards over the years to be gracious and kind, to not walk away from the table, to become vulnerable in sharing my self in conversations and dialogue.  I have listened to those of a conservative view with grace.  I have watched them behave despicably in meetings, soaking up their violence against me and mine and so often with an annoying smile. Following Archbishop Rowan’s insight, I remember that unity is the quest which keeps on asking ‘who is not here?’ rather than ‘you do or do not belong’.  But it is exhausting and sapping of limited energies. Non-reciprocation of generosity breaks the relationship and yet apparently it is me bringing disunity to the church?

    Ninthly, many of us simply slog our guts out day in day out. This news has winded me and made me see that no significant change is likely in my life span. The sense of being an ‘alien in the household of God’ grows. As a Dean I spend a lot of energy on taking care not to demoralise our teams, despite the challenges, and to look forward hopefully.  There is no hope for significant change in the C of E with respect to LGBT+ people yet many of us are stuck having given our life to this ministry yet not being able to afford to retire nor having the heart to abandon our sense of calling.  Pay us all off to get rid of us and I may just rethink, if that is really where you want to head! Why, if you really do think that we are living without true repentance and are unworthy of blessings, do you not just get rid of us as that is the conclusion of the logic now received in this settled view ?

    Tenthly and finally, this is akin to a bereavement with all the usual feelings and thoughts.  I have no idea what to grieve well looks like in this situation. Of course, I can rely on the church and the bishops not to provide me with any assistance on that. In one theory of bereavement, key to recovery is to invest in the new future beyond the loss. The problem for me is that no new future is articulated in any way for LGBT+ people.  That which was perhaps previously imagined is killed off. The hollow words of apology never came to anything. Micro aggressions and visceral fear and anger continue to be experienced by us. The new Christian Inclusion is but fantasy. Apparently, as the bullies of old told me in school, I am to take it on the chin ‘like a man’ (clearly a heterosexual one) and just let these acts of violence and harm keep on coming.

    Perhaps the only lasting hope might be another victim who also had to take it – that is about all that remains.

     

  • Bleeding While Leading: A Theological and Leadership Reflection

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

    Introduction: The Wounded Healer

    To lead while bleeding is to embody the paradox of Christ crucified and risen. It is to stand at the altar with wounds still fresh, to proclaim resurrection while still buried under the weight of systemic injustice. This reflection is not just theological—it is incarnational. It is the story of a Black, queer curate in the Church of England, navigating a decade of racism, homophobia, classism, and xenophobia, first as a layperson and then as a clergyman. The Church, which should be a place of refuge, has often been a crucible of suffering. The Gospel of Luke tells us that Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51), knowing that the journey would end in betrayal, rejection, and death. To lead while bleeding is to walk that same road, not toward triumph, but toward truth.

    The Master’s Tools and the Architecture of Oppression

    Audre Lorde’s prophetic insight—”The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house”—speaks directly to the ecclesial structures that perpetuate exclusion. The Church of England, with its colonial legacy and hierarchical governance, often uses tools forged in whiteness, patriarchy, and heteronormativity to assess vocation and worth. These tools are not neutral. They are instruments of gatekeeping. My rejection from a parish post in 2020, citing discomfort with my ethnic background in a “monochrome white working-class” parish, is a stark example of how these tools operate. The rejection was not about theology or capability—it was about race. It was about maintaining the architecture of comfort for the dominant culture.

    Conversion Therapy: A Theology of Violence

    On 6 August, the Church Times reported that New Wine has formally apologised to me for the abuse I endured during a 2013–2014 internship. This included forced participation in a “LIFE Ministry” group aimed at “setting people free from homosexuality.” This was not pastoral care: it was spiritual violence. It was a theology of erasure. Luke’s Gospel offers a counter-narrative. In Luke 7, Jesus says to the woman who anoints him, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” He does not demand she change her identity. He affirms her dignity. The apology from New Wine, while necessary, came after years of silence and dismissal. This confession echoes the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37), where religious leaders pass by the wounded. It was the outsider who stopped, who saw, who healed.

    Kinship and Betrayal: Not All Skinfolk Are Kinfolk

    The African American proverb “Not all skinfolk are kinfolk” painfully captures the reality that solidarity is not guaranteed, even among those who share racial identity. Within the Church, Black and Asian clergy have sometimes perpetuated homophobia, aligning with conservative theology that excludes LGBTQIA+ siblings. The same theology which held them in chains of oppression they use to oppress the queer people. Something that many liberationists had to realize is that we are not free until everyone is free. This betrayal is reminiscent of Judas, who shared bread with Jesus but still handed him over. In Luke 22, Jesus says, “But behold, the hand of him who betrays me is with me on the table.” To be betrayed by those who look like you, who worship beside you, is a unique kind of crucifixion.

    Formation and Fragmentation at Theological College

    My experience at theological college was not one of formation, but one of fragmentation. Theological colleges are meant to be places of discernment and growth, yet they often replicate the very systems of exclusion they claim to challenge. Time and time again I get pastoral emails, calls and invitations to coffee from people in theological college struggling because of racism. The Gospel of Luke begins with Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46–55), a song of reversal: “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.” Formation must be rooted in this radical reordering—not in conformity to oppressive norms.

    Psychological Safety and Leadership Development

    Psychological safety is a shared belief that people can express themselves without fear of reprisal. In church leadership, this is essential for fostering trust, collaboration, and authenticity. Research by Dr. Amy Edmondson and others shows that teams with high psychological safety perform better and experience less burnout. The Church of England’s Living Ministry research highlights the importance of wellbeing, especially in the face of systemic challenges. Clergy wellbeing must be supported through leadership development that prioritizes emotional health, vocational clarity, and relational support.

    Rejection, Anxiety, and the Fear of Homelessness

    I have been rejected from over 15 curacies and 14 roles post-curacy. I have watched friends receive parishes and roles without even applying. If I do not find a role by Christmas, I will be homeless and without a job. As someone who grew up in homeless shelters, this reality is terrifying and anxiety-inducing. At 35 years old, I believed I would be leading or helping to lead an evangelical fresh expression or pioneering something new to help people come to know Jesus. Instead, I find myself fighting for survival in a system that claims to be built on grace but often operates on exclusion.

    Resurrection and Hope

    Despite the trauma, I continue to serve faithfully. My story echoes that of Zacchaeus (Luke 19), a man rejected by society but embraced by Jesus. Zacchaeus responds with restitution, giving back what was taken. The Church must do the same. Apologies are not enough. There must be structural change, reparative justice, and a reimagining of vocation that includes all bodies, all identities.

    Conclusion: A Theology of Hope

    To bleed while leading is to live in the tension of Holy Saturday between death and resurrection. It is to believe, like the women at the tomb, that the story is not over. The Church must become a place where wounds are not hidden but honoured, where leadership is not sanitised but sanctified through suffering. May the Church of England dismantle its house not with the master’s tools, but with the carpenter’s—tools of justice, mercy, and truth. May it become a place where all are welcome at the table, not just tolerated in the pews. And may those who bleed while leading find not just healing, but resurrection.

  • Behold the Men: Identifying Risks, Reconsidering Relationships

    by Rachel Starr, Director of Studies at the Queen’s Foundation for Ecumenical Theological Education, Birmingham

    Since Behold the Men was published in January, a lot of people have commented on its relevance to the present moment. Conversations about how churches interpret, encourage, even prescribe, certain models of masculinities have long been needed, but often not given the necessary attention. Today’s global realities have brought into sharper focus the problematic intersections of white power, patriarchy, colonialism and certain forms of Christianity. Yet churches are still in denial about the necessary theological work they need to do in relation to abuse, inequality and injustice.

    In an article from 2019 addressing clerical abuse in the Roman Catholic Church, Susan A. Ross observes that ‘the insights that feminist theology offers to this crisis have not received the kind of attention they deserve’ and seeks to demonstrate both that ‘many (although not all) of the issues in clergy sexual abuse are theologically grounded’ and also that ‘feminist insights can contribute to a transformed church in which ?patriarchy and clericalism no longer dominate, where there is a healthy and holistic theology of sexuality, and ?where the voices of women and the laity are truly heard’ (Ross 2019, p. 633).?

    When viewed in relation to the ongoing safeguarding crisis within many churches, the risks inherent within dominant models of masculinity are clear to see.

    Within many such models, men are considered solitary, independent figures. They are expected to be both self-centred and self-reliant rather than understanding themselves in relation to a wider community. Men are encouraged to be the answer rather than to ask questions or listen to other people’s responses. They are called on to be strong, to ignore or decry their own and others’ vulnerabilities. Men are expected to lead rather than follow, receive instruction or advice. Men in leadership face pressure to be the charismatic leader, the hero, the saviour. As I have written elsewhere, the hero is best avoided.

    As part of their formation within such dominant models of masculinity, men are asked to deny or overcome emotions – framed as signs of weakness – and focus on the rational mind. They are kept at a distance from the realities of their own – and especially others’ – bodies. In different ways, and in a variety of settings, men are seen as creators and consumers, rather than those tasked with caring or cleaning up. This can result in a lack of attentiveness to the impact of actions or decisions.

    A model of masculinity found in some men’s spirituality movements is that of the ‘wild man’. While this model is less prevalent in British churches, it is present in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. This is a model focused on individual spiritual needs, sometimes to be pursued with aggression. It invites risk-taking rather than rule-following. Another model present in some Christian traditions is the successful man, whose presence is sought and whose failings are overlooked. A third model explored in Behold the Men is the family man, often found within a ‘culture of niceness’ which can mask power and stifle challenge. All three of these models – and others beside – need to be reconsidered if churches are to become places of wellbeing for all.

    Behold the Men offers some suggestions as to how churches might begin conversations around what it might mean to be a man of faith.

    1. Beginning with bodies

    ‘In our earliest conversations about the book, we talked about the importance of the body. While we cover shared ground with some systematic theology texts, we made a conscious decision to begin not with God but with human bodies, specifically, men’s bodies. Each chapter places bodies central to the discussion: naked, earthed, displaced, broken, of and in Christ, healing, resistant, receptive, created and connected’ (Beckford and Starr 2015, p. 4).

    We hope the book will help readers to listen to their own bodies and trust the insights offered: but not to be limited by their own embodied experiences. As Brazilian feminist theologian Ivone Gebara writes, ‘I have had … to listen with my whole body to what my particular body had not experienced concretely’ (Gebara 1995, p. 129).

    1. An ongoing conversation

    Behold the Men brings together more than a dozen contributors, who offer insights from a range of contexts, identities and theological traditions. The aim of the book is not to propel the reader towards a clear conclusion. Instead, it invites readers to listen carefully to different experiences, gain fresh insight and be encouraged to find new ways forward. It is not the first book exploring masculinities within Christianity, and we hope it will not be the last.

    1. ‘We Cannot Walk Alone’

    We chose to use Birmingham artist Eddy Aigbe’s painting, ‘We Cannot Walk Alone,’ for the book cover. Originally commissioned by Celebrating Sanctuary for Refugee Week in 2021, the image seeks to convey many different people coming together to shape more inclusive, just communities. In the work of justice, the wisdom, compassion and commitment of many is needed. We hope our book will be a resource for the journey. Certainly, there is much distance for our churches to travel if they are to be places where all bodies are welcomed, respected and honoured. Challenging violent and limiting models of masculinity within churches, exploring more inclusive and healthy ways of being men of faith, is long overdue.

  • Sports, Wellbeing – and the Theology of the Body

    by Helen King with Revd Pete Wheeler

    On Tuesday, Synod is hearing a presentation followed by this motion:

     ‘That this Synod recognise the missional potential for churches of sport and wellbeing through its ability to transform the lives of people and communities.’

    I (Helen) am among the members of Synod least qualified to speak in this debate, my own experience of sport including deliberately spraining my own ankle in order to get out of school hockey. When I see images of energetic lively young people on the website for the Church of England’s National Sport and Wellbeing Project, I feel the urge to go into a corner with a book. And yet… I want to speak in this debate.

    That’s because, at a recent deanery synod meeting, I heard about St Peter’s Aylesbury. We are not a pilot diocese for the Sport and Wellbeing Project, and St Peter’s is part of our diocese’s Estates Ministry Network. It has recently experienced revitalisation, which started from a ‘breakfast church’ initiative about five years ago.

    But before I share what they are doing, I want to say that I am concerned by the way that the supporting document for the debate, GS2381, focuses more on ‘sports ministry’ than on wellbeing, talking about numbers, and ‘success’, even (paragraph 1 of the executive summary) how to “find the sweet spot of how this could contribute to a growing and outward facing church”. In the research appendix that forms the second part of GS2381, we have “strategic aims” and “buy-in” and “sustainable business development” and “standardised systems and processes around data collection to refine Sports and Wellbeing Ministry models and approaches” and yet more language of “success’.

    For St Peter’s, their interest in wellbeing and exercise comes from a different direction. It is not about ‘sport’; it’s part of a focus on “health, hope and wholeness through fun, faith and fitness”. That’s backed up not through a focus on numbers, but through their theology of the body. The vicar, Pete Wheeler, told me that “In Estates ministry we commit to walk alongside people who often live very chaotic lives in areas of high deprivation. Their discipleship pathway is never a straight line – so, it can’t be about ‘numbers’! (And related to this I also long for the CofE to recognise that churches that are struggling financially are not necessarily ‘failing’!).” He went on, “Our theology of the body is not only as a sacred space where God chooses to meet with us, but as something that is fully endorsed by God in the bodily incarnation, death and resurrection of Jesus. It is, therefore, anti-gnostic – declaring that our own bodies, how we look after them, and what we do with them, really matter to God and to how we live a ‘whole’ and fulfilled life.”

    There are two projects which they run which express this theology most fully.

    Revelation Fitness runs free classes for all abilities, including chair-based classes. Pete writes “Each weekly class has a Bible theme (usually part of a series) which is developed and explored as the class exercise together – sometimes circuit, high-intensity interval training, exercise to music, etc. (For example, our current Series is on Colossians 3: 12-17 with each week focusing on a different attribute Paul mentions). It ends with a cooldown that includes a time of reflection and prayer. The music we use is combination of secular and worship tracks. After the class there is opportunity for Prayer Ministry and healthy smoothies.”

    Last month, they offered a 21-day sugar fast, with daily Bible passages and encouragements, to “clear your mind, boost your health, and reset your cravings – while drawing you closer to God. Let’s break free from sugar’s grip and focus on what truly satisfies.” Pete observes, “We reject the false economy presented by organisations such as ‘Slimming World’ who talk about treats as ‘sins’ (and subtly perpetuate the unhealthy focus on body shape and a cycle of failure to change habits). Rather, Revelation Fitness focuses on our call to be ‘fit for life’; to understand our bodies and how to fuel them well by using healthy, simple, practical and spiritual disciplines; learning to move, use and ‘tune’ our bodies into the daily rhythms of our life and calling.”

    As for the second project, that’s Revelation Run. Pete writes that “The missional energy for Revelation Fitness has also led to ‘Revelation Run’ which helps local people to learn how to run, with prayer as an integral part (and which usually starts with walking!). We have also developed links with a local group called ‘Recovery Runners’ – a community of people recovering from addiction, burnout, bereavement, mental health, etc., which we refer people to often … we have seen people’s lives changed through encounters with Jesus; freedom for those with addictions developing new healthy habits and disciplines; and those who find new hope as they discover their bodies are not the enemy.”

    I find what Pete and his community are doing is an inspiration. So I would urge a reset from sports to wellbeing; from a focus on children and young people (the result of the Vision & Strategy) to adults; and something driven not by the rhetoric of management and ‘success’ measured by numbers, but based on a rich theology of the body. Reflecting on the paper being presented to Synod, Pete noted that there was no need to do “evangelism by stealth” using sport as the way in, because Revelation Fitness is already advertised as a faith-based activity, and this does not put people off; they want to explore spirituality and faith without suspicion.

    Pete suggests that we are in a “new shifting missional landscape. We have the opportunity to enable all apostles (not just ‘pioneers’!) to ‘take church to the people’, by running, for example, local community sports and wellbeing groups, that include spirituality / faith / prayer as an integral part. This is something that the new parents of the next 10 years will happily be a part of with their children!”

     

  • Lives Worth Living? Principle and Practice in the Assisted Dying Debate

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

    I will admit to being quite surprised that the Assisted Dying Bill passed its second reading.

    Of course, much of that surprise can be put down to the ever-shrinking social media bubbles we all inhabit – mine, for example, seemed full of MPs saying that whilst they might support the principle, they couldn’t support the Bill as it stands. Yet parliament has spoken, and whilst there is still a long way for this Bill to go, it should make us at least recognise that we are in a new place culturally when it comes to matters of life and medicine. It looks, at the very least, like it is now a case of when and not if, when it comes to assisted dying.

    Plenty of ink has been spilt on this debate, with some of the arguments being put forward more charitable than others. There has seemed, at times, to be a wilful refusal to hear – and rather to simply dismiss – the concerns raised by large numbers of disabled people, and in addition the voting figures (and associated speeches) from UKME MPs might also get us thinking. The professionally religious have, in the main, been opposed (with some notable exceptions), but there is interestingly no neat left-right distinction in this debate. The religious opposition has not always erred on the side of kindness, and yet perhaps this is best interpreted as a sign of how concerned many religious people are about the threat this Bill poses to something so central to how many people of faith understand human life to be. It is worth our all remembering that very few people – if any – are coming at this issue with bad intentions, even if their failure to see the consequences (from whichever direction) of their opinions is frustrating!

    It’s not an original thought, but it is worth repeating that there are already grey areas in this debate that we have all learned to tolerate. Whilst the so-called doctrine of double effect – where a death-inducing dose of medication can be given if the intention is to relieve pain not induce death – really doesn’t have much (if any) actual use in contemporary medical practice (because the reality is that such high dosing is vanishingly rarely, if ever, required), nonetheless we know that patients can quite competently refuse treatment if they have decided that enough is enough. Similarly, we don’t simply go ahead and invasively treat patients when the treatment appears futile or actively harmful – there are decisions to be made on the what, where, when, and how in contemporary medical practice that cannot fit into simplistic binary choices. Yet what is being proposed here really is something new, in my mind, because – I think – it changes what it means to be a doctor, and hence what it means to have a doctor. It changes what choices doctors can legitimately be involved in – and what associated actions they can take.

    I think that’s the angle that I’m approaching this debate from, although I am aware that not only am I a psychiatrist – and hence someone who deals in matters of capacity, competence, suicidal thinking, life and death on a fairly regular basis – I’m also a priest. There have been rather silly suggestions that those with faith cannot objectively talk about this stuff – silly because the truth is that none of us, with or without faith, can talk objectively. We’re all caught up in our different (and sometimes internally contradictory) worldviews, and so whatever we have to say about this is going to impact us differently. What I would like to do, though, is offer some reflections on how this whole debate hit me as a practitioner of medicine – one with faith, sure, but primarily one thinking through how my medical life might change in this new cultural landscape.

    The first thing is how many MPs of various stripes, including some of those who were vocally opposed to the Bill, stated that they didn’t like this Bill but that they did agree ‘in principle’ (often in the stated context of poor palliative care provision). I’m not totally convinced that in matters of assisted dying, it’s quite so easy to separate principle and practice (as many disabled campaigners have made clear in their contributions to the debate), but putting that aside for a moment, it’s evident that more people are now willing to say that they think that there is a genuine choice possible between death and life. This is new, and significant, if it is indeed true (that is, unless the ‘agree in principle but not practice’ argument was simply being used because it was easier than to be seen to disagree in principle too). Assisted dying is, in the main, seen as a liberal, progressive cause – an assertion not without possible challenge, but an assertion that seems to have taken on a widely accepted status. Those arguing against assisted dying are doing so on the back foot.

    Which makes me wonder what precisely the principle is that MPs (and the wider public) agree with. One of the difficulties with all this is the strange bedfellows each of us might find ourselves with, where the thing we agree or disagree on is not actually the same in substance even if it is in effect. Definitions throughout this debate have been shaky and unclear – we might think of the word ‘intolerable’, for example, of which more below – and so the grounds on which we agree or disagree can themselves feel shaky and unclear too. The Church of England has felt a little limited in what it has had to offer on all this – something I found when writing a book on despair and dying – which means that much of the official public output, such as it is, has felt rather last minute, unprepared, and shallow. In the church, we’ve forgotten that a vast number of people don’t speak our language, and our words have lost shared meaning.

    Which brings me back to how words in general have lost that shared meaning in society. We have heard a lot about ‘intolerable’ pain during debates, but what exactly does that mean? When life is ‘not worth living’, again, what does that mean? Just as importantly, who makes the decisions about what those words mean, and against what are these meanings measured? As a medic, I feel uncomfortable with saying that some pain is inevitably intolerable, but who am I to determine what that means?

    As a psychiatrist, too, I wonder about exactly what doctors are being asked to make a judgement on. Historically – in medicine and in law – we haven’t really accepted the idea that living vs dying is a legitimate choice for an individual to make for themselves. The Mental Health Act, and various other bits of medical legislation, make that clear – and our practice mirrors that. Meeting someone who is suicidal in clinic or in an emergency situation, I would inevitably err on the side of caution and see this risk as something that is at least an indicator that a deprivation of liberty is appropriate. Yet whilst it is only in very particular circumstances, this proposed Bill changes that, in a way that fundamentally changes the way doctors and patients interact. For all the talk on the content of the Bill, its safeguards and so on, this aspect seems not to have featured nearly enough.

    Yet that also makes me wonder something else about this Bill specifically, which is whether it actually addresses the question its proponents state it aims to. For all the talk of slippery slopes, this Bill claims to only address those with a likely six-month time limit – ignoring, for a moment, the imprecise nature of any such prediction. In my experience, anecdotal though it is, I have infrequently met people with such a limited lime left on this Earth wishing for less – most, in fact, have wanted more. I can think of situations where ‘intolerable’ might make most sense to me – locked-in syndrome, for example, or degenerative diseases, which might be someone else’s tolerable but might be my intolerable – yet these are not included in this legislation. In other words, the arguments around assisted dying might be more palatable when addressing people in the last six months of life, but are they actually practical or necessary in this group of people? If the answer is, in fact, no, then that opens up a lot more questions.

    This debate is not going to go away, and nor is it going to become much easier or clearer. Those of us who have serious and deep concerns about what this does to medical care – where on the one hand I am expected to see all suicidal thinking as suggestive of disorder, whilst on the other hand can now determine someone to be entirely of sound mind despite this thinking – have a duty to engage carefully and thoughtfully with the debate as it progresses, whilst drawing attention to the realities that underpin it. For all the talk of this being one of parliament’s finer hours, I am not convinced – by the principle, or the practical workings out.

     

     

  • Makin – 1600 Days Late: Will it be Worth the Wait?

    by ‘Graham’

    I have asked if a letter I wrote in 2019 might be reproduced in full, and here it is, below. Victims and General Synod have been told time and time again that the Makin Review has had a lot of work to do, that new information keeps coming to light. However, it was clear to victims from the beginning that this would be a long and complex task, requiring far more than two part-time Reviewers. There were over 100 victims, over four decades, in three countries. Was it not obvious that this was a serious piece of work?

    And the letter shows that simple building blocks for a good Review were just not in place (leaving aside that the Review started two months late). There was no GDPR provision (that was not put in place until Autumn 2020); no ability to record or scan; no encryption; no reference group; no oversight; no timetable; no urgency. It is interesting rereading it today: there never was a Reference or Oversight Group despite my demands: no one to ensure the Review was delivered competently, and on time.

    Otherwise, the letter stands on its own. The Makin Review is now 1600 days overdue. It has been promised on multiple occasions, since 2021, in statements from Keith Makin or the National Safeguarding Team that proved to be complete fiction. Numerous promises have been made to General Synod, and every one of those remains undelivered. In fact, I gather the Makin Review is still mired in the representations process (usually referred to as “Maxwellisation”) and the stated end date for Maxwellisation of 6 June 2024, was, like everything else, just made up.

     

    This is what I wrote in 2019:

    Dear Keith and Sarah

    As most are aware, for family reasons I am pulling back from the Review until the New Year. I have made every attempt to accelerate the process. I had asked for a full day to brief you, but was told you did not have a single free day together until December 11th. I have tried, but I am now pulling back from the Review.

    It is almost fifteen weeks since the Review was announced:

    • There is still nothing on the CofE website about contact details, methodology or process
    • There are still no public contact details for Keith or Sarah
    • GDPR issues remain
    • There is no agreed timetable for contacting victims
    • No counselling resources are available yet, that I am aware
    • The proposed Reference Group is not yet in place

    Then, the Terms of Reference have been changed, and the revised version “implanted” in the original 13 August statement. There is no indication there that the ToR has been revised and it is unclear whether this has been drawn to the attention of interested parties (two victims I have spoken to did not know). How can that possibly be best practice?

    I note also that the revised ToR states that “work commenced in October 2019”. This has been sneaked into the new ToR. Again, how can this possibly be best practice? I also ask why when I had meetings with Melissa on 19 September, Keith on 4 October and +Peter on 18 October no one had the honesty or integrity to drop the pretence that work had been underway for weeks, and admit the process was two months late in starting.

    I have now spent almost twelve hours with you. And the time has been discursive rather than investigative. Keith, you took less than one page of A4 notes in an entire four hour meeting this Tuesday. Sarah hammers away at her laptop. This produced a summary of just over five pages, but it read like bullet points: points jotted down on the laptop, then regurgitated a few days later.

    So, I asked (again) whether the meeting would be voice recorded. I have previously given my consent to this. I was again told that GDPR and data collection issues had not been agreed and that the meeting could not be recorded on Sarah’s laptop (and there was an aside that she should not actually be taking notes on that laptop: I assume all matters to do with security, confidentiality and encryption). I was told you are waiting for the CofE to provide some kind of box to sit on the table (I believe they are known as tape recorders).

    So, twelve hours of testimony has not actually been comprehensively recorded? I wonder what other, more extensive write up has been done of each meeting as an awful lot more than that was discussed over twelve hours?

    I have bundles and bundles of documents. Many of them are contemporaneous. After the first two meetings with you it was agreed that we would then have a very substantive session, going through my four box files (so probably over 1000 pieces of paper) relevant to the Review. I asked for a photocopier or scanner to be provided. It was not in either meeting. And it appeared you had little interest in looking at, or capturing a record of really important documents. At one stage Sarah did use her phone to photo one document, but I said that was absurd and copied a few on my iPad instead, and subsequently emailed them to you. However, key documents (a 1982 letter detailing who was told, when and by whom) were discussed, but no record taken. This is important evidence surely?

    And I hoped we would go through the raft of correspondence (particularly pertinent to how the CofE has responded in the last eight years) with Lambeth, with Canterbury, with Titus Trust, with Ely, with David Porter, with NST. I had brought all of this to the meeting to pass on but, while discussed, there was no capacity to take copies of any of them. And actually, not much interest shown in seeing them.

    I repeat my earlier comment, the meeting felt like another “scoping” exercise, still, fifteen weeks later, trying to get a grip on the most basic outline chronology and story. In the first meeting I handed over a document I had prepared at the suggestion of Emily Denne. It was called Scope of the Review and comprised approximately 150 questions that the Review might consider. We have not been through that list: it remains substantially untouched. After twelve hours, we have hardly started on what I feel the Review should cover.

    I acknowledge that this is a vast, nine month long exercise. I am being told again and again that this is a complex review, possibly one of the widest and most difficult the CofE has attempted. Then where are the resources? I have not been told that you are getting extra help, or are working more than a few hours each week? I see no urgency, no expertise, no investigation. The output is a few pages of notes after each meeting. It deserves a care, a professionalism, a respect that is not being shown.

    I have waited eight years to tell my story, and over a tortuous last three years my life is shattered, my marriage is effectively ended, I am more stressed than I have been for months. I would like access immediately to counselling services for my wife, marriage counselling for us both, and individual support for myself. Why am I the one lying awake all night?

    I am withdrawing from the Review until the New Year. I have also advised the victims with whom I am in touch, not to participate. They will not contact you.

    I hope that, by the New Year, great strides will have been made. Come back to me when you can tell me that:

    • the Review is properly resourced
    • That interviews can be appropriately recorded
    • That documents can be properly collected
    • That all GDPR issues have been addressed
    • That Counselling services are in place
    • That the Reference Group is in place

    In the New Year, if you can reassure me of these then I may reengage. And I will make a judgement call as to whether to contact other victims.

    Please do not contact me. I need to take some time off, immediately to support my family, but primarily for my well being. I will take emails, but not calls, from Emily. Any contact with me should be through Emily. However, I am going to try to put this aside completely for a few weeks. Damn the lot of you.

    Graham 22/11/19

    Cc Bishop Peter Hancock, Emily Denne, Melissa Carslake

    Richard Scorer, Slater & Gordon

     

  • Estates Evangelism: Justice on the Margins

    Fr Alex Frost, Vicar of St Matthews, Burnley and member of General Synod

    At this February General Synod I had hoped to speak in support of Bishop Philip North’s motion on the topic of Estates Evangelism. I didn’t get called to speak, but I didn’t lose heart because everyone who did speak, did so with empathy, kindness and consideration for people living and working on our most troubled estates. I get so much enthusiasm for ministry when I hear people discussing and focussing on a loving gospel response to serve the poor and to call out injustice.

    In 2021 I was part of a religious cost-of-living crisis piece for the BBC News. It was viewed by 12 million people, and led to an outpouring of love and affection which has affected my life and my ministry forever, so it’s no surprise that I supported +Philip’s  motion at Synod because, if we don’t do something now, then when will we?

    There were other matters of justice, particularly racial justice, discussed at this Synod too. The contributors offered heartfelt stories and inspiring words and there was a huge consensus that calling out injustice should be the heart of what we do as a church. Calling out injustice means discussing many emotive topics and I am reminded that injustice comes in many forms, including colour, race, sexual identity, disability and class.

    Returning to Estates Evangelism, St Matthew’s Burnley – where I’m the vicar – serves a number of challenging estates. Through the outstanding support of my colleague and Associate Priest Rev Kat Gregory Witham, we have created a new worshipping community called Fun Church. Fun Church is like Messy Church only the difference is that it does get very very messy, with squabbling, fall-outs, swearing, and tantrums, and that’s just the parents! Rev Kat, with an outstanding team, created this for families, and around 40-50 kids attend on a weekly basis. We heat the huge church, do some crafts, we do some singing and we feed them their tea. We have drop-ins, we offer food support, mental health support, weekends aways, and trips out.

    When I was telling somebody this, they were like ‘Brill, that’s amazing, are you an HTB church or are the Church Army involved?’ To which I replied, ‘Outside of the stipends we get nowt, zilch, zero from the Church of England’. All our funding comes from grants or charities and benefactors and fundraising, but the truth is we get nothing from the central Church. In fact the reality is we have to pay £30,000 a year in parish share for the privilege so we are doing our bit to support the Diocese. That’s not a criticism of the Diocese, but of the paralysis that is passed on by the processes placed upon estate churches that bind us to the national strategy to pay parish share.

    And so I want to add to the amazing voices at Synod, for the many estate churches that get on with doing what they are doing, with the millstone of money and debt preventing them from doing more. I want to speak up for the churches that refer individuals to Christians Against Poverty but are crippled by their own financial woes and yet carry on to a pathway to oblivion. And I want to speak up for clergy making the best of what sometimes can feel like an impossible situation. I also want to raise a cheer for the clergy who literally can’t cope, for the priests and deacons who are hanging on by a thread. For Ministers and Pastors who risk the sustainability of their own respective ministries, who jeopardise their own wellbeing, because of exhaustion, depression, worry and stress. And I want to give a voice for churches that serve in the most challenging places, who give their time in blood, sweat and tears, who are running churches at a loss but somehow keep going, to serve the most vulnerable places in our society. And to speak up for the families I come into contact with, who are literally picking up and eating the crumbs from under the table.

    After the ravages of Covid 19 and after the savage way in which the cost of living crisis has taken away people’s dignity, aspiration and zest for life, I want to ask: if not now, then when, Church of England?

    I truly believe that the growth of the Church of England will not come by producing a definition of fornication, or even by blessing same-sex unions; something, by the way, which I fully support. It won’t come in the calling out the wolves from the sheep. It can and it will come only from serving on the margins, by calling out the injustices of social and financial deprivation, and by walking in the footsteps of Jesus in the darkest of places.

    Growth will come where ministers are not shackled by carrying the weight of so much expectation with so little resource, but are instead enabled to offer more than soup and a sandwich, a prayer and a blessing. It will come if we can offer a radical distribution of the extraordinary and sometime repulsive wealth that is within the Church of England, wealth that will enable churches and church leaders to challenge injustice. The Church of England needs to fight for an end to foodbanks and to stop celebrating soup kitchens as great bastions of pastoral care; instead giving us the tools to stir, not just soup, but hearts and minds. The church should enable us to make a difference, and should hold those in power accountable to make a cultural change to how we serve the poor in mind, body and spirit.

    Churches do make a difference; they offer wonderful Christian witness. But they are so often held back by financial woes and lack of opportunities. I hope and pray that the motion passed at Synod leads to change and makes a difference to how much support is offered to our estates. The motion provides a route map to recovery, a route map to growth: what is important now is we all travel in the same direction.

     

     

     

  • Improving Safety in Pastoral Care with LGBTQA+ People

    by Dr Timothy Willem Jones, Associate Professor of History at La Trobe University, and the author of Sexual Politics in the Church of England, 1857-1957 (Oxford, 2013). He leads a multidisciplinary research project, Improving Spiritual Health Care for LGBTQA+ Australians, funded by the Australian Research Council and the Victorian Government.

    LGBTQA+ people of faith are at high risk of spiritual and psychological injury in the context of pastoral care. They may experience over 8 times higher risk of suicidality than the wider LGBTQA+ population. Simultaneously, pastoral workers frequently lack confidence in their ability to provide appropriate pastoral care related to gender and sexuality, more than any other issue in pastoral care. There is currently limited research into safety in LGBTQA+ spiritual health care, and no research that considers safety across multiple faiths, irrespective of their theological and pastoral positions related to sexual orientation and gender identity. This article introduces some guidelines for improving safety in pastoral care with lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning, asexual and other people with diverse sexual and gender identities (LGBTQA+). The full guide is available here.

    The guidelines are based on our research with LGBTQA+ people about their experiences of pastoral care, reported in Healing Spiritual Harms. Our research showed that significant religious and psychological trauma can result from pastoral practices that make a person’s sexuality and gender identity incompatible with belonging to their faith, family and community. Being told that unchangeable parts of yourself are incompatible with your faith can create a condition of existential crisis: the feeling that it is impossible to live at peace with the core parts of who you are. Such experiences can feel like a threat to someone’s very existence, and can lead to complex post-traumatic stress disorders, suicidality as well as a host of other symptoms of mental ill health.

    Best practice pastoral care with LGBTQA+ people will support them to accept who they are, and not try to change or suppress their identity. It will support an LGBTQA+ person of faith to explore the possibilities for safety, connection, belonging and self-expression within and consistent with the rules, traditions, and practices of their faith community. If their faith community has mixed views about LGBTQA+ people, it may also involve supporting them to find additional or alternative communities of belonging where their various parts can be valued and affirmed. It will also involve referral to appropriate mental health professionals when that is needed.

    The following guidelines provide principles and ethics of pastoral practice that will help you improve your care of LGBTQA+ people in your community. They frame the principles of safe LGBTQA+ pastoral care in generic terms, not specific to any particular religious tradition. As you read them, consider the best ways that these principles could be applied in your own faith community.

    1. Recognise: In the diversity of human experience, some people are same-sex attracted or have a gender that is different to what people assumed when they were born. We know from decades of medical research that attempts to change a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity, in fact, only suppress that part of a person. When key parts of a person, such as their faith and their sexuality or gender identity, are put in conflict and suppressed, extreme psychological distress can result.
    1. Protect: As a pastoral worker, you have a role to play as an advocate. If your community is telling LGBTQA+ people that to be a member they are required to suppress their sexuality or gender identity, that requirement will be harmful and unsafe for LGBTQA+ people in your community. LGBTQA+ people should be protected from such unsafe policies and practices.
    1. Accept: Safe pastoral care for LGBTQA+ people involves supporting them to find a path where they can accept and hold in harmony their faith, their inner sense of sexuality and gender, and their relationship with their religious community, and also to explore how they might safely express those aspects of themselves in relation to the rules and traditions of their faith and community.
    1. Explore: Sometimes people have uncertain feelings about their gender or sexual attractions. Safe pastoral practice with such people involves supporting their exploration without predetermining any particular outcome for who they are. While your religious tradition will have rules about sexual and gender expression and behaviour, it most likely also has space for a person to explore and accept their sexual orientation and gender identity, who they are inside.
    1. Support: There are many aspects of being LGBTQA+ in your community about which a person might seek support. Some of these might be: experiences of trauma and discrimination, perhaps even in your community; the social implications of affirming an LGBTQA+ identity on their significant relationships; and their personal safety as they explore and reconcile the different components of their identity.
    1. Refer: Know what your expertise is and be prepared to refer people to others when they need support outside of that expertise. This could include referral to pastoral workers with more experience in your tradition, or appropriately qualified mental health professionals.
    1. Reflect: Pastoral care with LGBTQA+ people provides you with a valuable opportunity to reflect on your, and your community’s, pastoral practice. Do you listen carefully to LGBTQA+ people’s experiences in your community? What are the range of attitudes towards LGBTQA+ people that your community holds? What are the different ways that gender and sexual expression have been valued at different times and places in your faith tradition? Do your current pastoral responses to LGBTQA+ people reflect the core values of your faith?