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Category: Parish Cuts

  • Bruised Reeds and Mustard Seeds   

     by the Revd Jody Stowell, Vicar of St Michael and All Angels, Harrow Weald and member of General Synod

                                                          

    The book above has come out of a number of years of struggle and frustration as a parish priest of a smaller church. In the introductory chapter I describe it as a ‘passion project’ and that has been what it is, with bells on! I am utterly convinced that the value, worth and endeavour of smaller churches is one of the most underestimated resources in the Church today, and particularly in the Church of England. Current obsessions with growth in numbers and finance often land squarely on the shoulders of local parish priests and their congregations. My desire for the book is that those who find themselves reading it are uplifted, encouraged and above all feel less isolated and alone in their call to lead, serve in or attend a smaller church.

    The well-being, particularly of clergy has been on my heart for a long time. I’ve had to attend to my own well-being in my ministry, and I know what it is to wrestle with the very real need of finances for a church to function, and the small numbers of congregation who are living in a cost-of-living crisis and who, even if they weren’t, would be unable to pay the standard cost of ministry, which covers the cost of the vicar, including pension, housing and training, as well as more general mission costs of the diocese, and which in my diocese is over £105k. It’s hard to carry the weight of seeing the mission of God through the lens of increase and growth, attendance and finance. Clergy and congregations often find themselves focusing on how to reach the biggest growth, rather on what the Spirit is calling them to.

    The book talks of what ‘small’ means. This is often the first question I get asked, I suspect because many would like my definition not to include them! One way to alleviate anxiety around being a small church is to deny that it includes you. The definition of ‘small’ used in the book is fairly wide and generous, focusing more on the idea of ‘Smaller Church Energy’, and the charisms that are inherent to smaller church communities; for example, nimbleness, attentiveness to the Spirit and belonging.

    I then explore issues around anxiety, aiming to offer comfort and challenge. We inhabit an institution which is highly anxious, and anxiety transmits. When anxiety drives an institution, we can end up with solutions which are about soothing the anxiety that comes from financial insecurity, rather than being a church able to catch unexpected glimpses of the Spirit in places and through people that are undervalued, unseen, invisible in both the institution and the nation. The solutions, programs and conferences offered can act like a drug, a form of self-medication against the anxiety, but which can’t last. So the anxiety is passed on until it often lands on the parish priest to deliver the shiny initiative that will somehow save the Church of England. No wonder clergy are leaving ministry early, often sick, stressed and disillusioned.

    But the smaller church is a gift. Even as we name the challenges, there is a golden thread running through Scripture of God illuminating the places that are weary, marginalised, vulnerable, fragile and small. Bruised reeds and mustard seeds, or Bethlehem the littlest clan. God is drawn to these places, and they are also the places from whence God comes. These places are not simply to be ‘done to’ – to be helped and ‘resourced’ from bigger and better entities – but are also places which can help the anxious institution lay down its anxiety rather than passing it on. Such places can resource their bigger neighbours and teach them how to be faithful in the face of a multiplicity of temptations to focus on success in numerical terms.

    I’ve chosen to dedicate one chapter to clergy well-being, not because I think it is only the clergy who are impacted by this institutional anxiety and obsession, but because they are often the ones who hold the anxiety from ‘above and below’.  Clergy do need to set a tone, or tell the story about who they are again and again to their communities. It is very easy for congregations to be demoralized and anxious themselves. They know that money is required to keep going, and the threat of closing smaller churches can lead to an expectation that somehow their vicar can ‘fix it’. And this is a dangerous place for clergy to be. Edwin Friedman, who wrote on leadership, warns

    The position that is most dangerous to a leader’s health is what I call the “togetherness position,” in which the leader feels responsible for keeping a system together. Such leaders are most likely to suffer burnout, function badly, or suddenly die when forces pulling in opposite directions have stretched their capacity to hold things together to its breaking point. (Friedman, Location 4015)

    Sadly, it can be literally life-threatening not to deal with our institutional anxiety issue.

    There is also a requirement for clergy to choose boundaries and non-anxious responses. In our parishes, we do actually have quite a lot of autonomy. One of the challenges that I offer in this chapter on clergy well-being is for clergy to resist the narrative and begin to be catalysts themselves for the unsticking of this institution that we not only work for, but love, because it is to this part of the Body of Christ that we are called.

    I finish with a chapter which offers some ways forward, although I’m careful not to be offering the ‘quick-fix’ to soothe the anxiety! As this is quite a new conversation, there are not necessarily models to copy, and the reality of smaller church is that it is rightly contextual, even hyper-contextual – and so ‘off the peg’ doesn’t work so well in our places. All offerings will necessarily need re-contextualizing in a new place. However, there are a couple of pathways that are being explored and I offer three of these for pondering. The hope is that this lifts the debilitating fog of isolation that stops us from thinking well, and helps us to recognise that there are others (I would argue most of us!) who are trying to navigate this strange land. One of the pathways being offered, by Bishop Guli to Chelmsford Diocese, is Travelling Well Together. It is undefensive and honouring of the realities of local small parish churches. We are told that

    For the foreseeable future, there will be no more diocesan initiatives outlining common approaches to mission and evangelism. Rather, we are seeking to tip the traditional organisational hierarchy on its head, to enable and empower local churches and worshipping communities to discern for yourselves what it means to be God’s people in your particular part of the world (Chelmsford, 2023).

    Bishop Guli challenges her diocese that, when a community is under threat, something of which she has first-hand experience, it has three choices: fight, flee and take the consequences or strengthen the inner life. She chooses, for herself and the church, the third option and I will leave you with an excerpt from the book on this:

    ‘However, [strengthening the inner life] is not an easy way. Our anxiety is still something we need to own and understand. And that anxiety may not be entirely erased because the external narrative has changed in one area of the institution. So, if we are not given a strategy from the central institution, then we potentially have no one to blame for our failure to live up to the image of success that we still hold. There is no focus to receive, and therefore soothe, our anxiety. If we tried the strategy and it didn’t work, then it is ‘their’ fault. If there is no strategy other than strengthening that inner life, getting closer to God, being faithful in the ministry to which we are called, then that is our responsibility. This is a good thing! It is not easy, but it is not hard in the way that being told to control things outside of our control is hard. It is hard in the way that tilling the earth is hard work, that picking fruit is hard work, that listening well is hard work, that making up a spare room for a guest is hard work. There is satisfaction, rather than frustration.’

  • The Ten Parish Eucharistic Benefice

    by Michael Hampson, a published author devoting his early retirement from parish ministry to producing practical resources for busy clergy and lay-led congregations, beginning with the weekly lectionary resource Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud, ssra.uk

    The Ten Parish benefice is coming – and it is sustainable. All it needs is people, and liturgy. We have both. All we lack is a decent liturgy book. So let’s make one.

    Oh, and there’s that word ‘eucharistic’. Let’s talk about that too. Spoiler: no lay presidency involved.

    Let’s start in Wales

    In the middle of a piece in Church Times nine days ago, surrounded by all the obvious and noisy things that people want to say about the new Archbishop of Wales, the three paragraphs that really matter are sitting quietly, waiting for their moment. “Between 2020 and 2023, Monmouth diocese underwent the pastoral reorganisation of 121 parishes into 16 ministry areas.” That’s an average of 7.5 parishes per Ministry Area. It’s page 2 in the print edition, or at this link online (where the three paragraphs are split into five).

    The Ten Parish Benefice – with a single priest – is coming. Wales has been honest about it, and made it explicit. But it’s coming in England too, in cities, towns and villages alike. Most people just haven’t admitted it yet.

    To quote very roughly – twice – from the gospel reading (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2012.49-56&version=NRSVA) that followed two days later, this is where we really should be reading the signs of the times. And it might be divisive, rather than peaceful, to say so. But if we take a deep breath and actually prepare for it – rather than turning a blind eye, or running around in ever-decreasing circles – we really can stop being so afraid.

    The Ten Parish Benefice has existed in corners of England already for well over a decade. Almost everyone’s trying to deny it. Save the Parish (www.savetheparish.com) can see it coming, but think that empowering parishes with information about legal rights, and trying to wrestle money from the powerful to the weak, will stop it happening. We can wish, but sadly, while justice may be on their side, I don’t think justice is going to prevail over the vested interests of the powerful. The Five-Ten-Fifteen-Twenty Parish Benefice is coming regardless. But Christ is Risen and the Holy Spirit is amongst the people, and that’s on top of God the Father being God the Father, and from time to time there’s even a priest in the benefice, so what exactly is supposed to be the problem?

    It was easier when we had some resources. When there was a Book of Common Prayer (BCP) in every parish church in every village (and a King James Bible and a bell, wasn’t that the official minimum list?) the churchwardens could keep the show on the road perfectly well in the absence of a priest; indeed that was both their right and their duty, and we trust was also their joy. Problem solved – even in a ten-parish benefice. Until the end of 1999, the Alternative Service Book (ASB) was just as comprehensive, better laid out and in (fairly) modern language – the entire Church of England in one hand – and the same principle applied: anyone could open it and keep the show on the road. And now, just when we need it the most, we have nothing. Common Worship (CW) is a scattering of loose papers that have blown away in the wind. Even most clergy (and *cough* most bishops) can’t find their way around the main volume, and most of what you need isn’t in there anyway. And the Ten Parish Benefice is coming. But don’t panic. It can be done.

    To the north of England

    When I started in a four-parish benefice in 2012, I maintained a pattern of services in every parish every Sunday, and very soon even persuaded three of the four to ensure that the service was at the same time every Sunday. With help from retired clergy, the vast majority of services were eucharistic. I did persuade myself that four was the limit, and five would be impossible. Six years later, I was actively negotiating to combine the four-parish benefice with the neighbouring benefice of six churches, to form a combined united benefice of ten, and for this I had the agreement in principle of all four parishes, and the departing half-time incumbent of the six, in order to proactively secure the future of the benefice before any less-considered alternative was imposed upon us. So what had we learned during those years that made the impossible seem possible, not only to me, but to four contented, and indeed enthusiastic, PCCs?

    Those paragraphs in the Church Times article conclude, “It wasn’t possible for every church to have their own vicar, because we don’t have enough vicars.” But all four parishes in that four-parish benefice knew they had a vicar, because they had learned how to make the model work.

    A vicar in every parish

    I ran PCC meetings like they were house-groups. In the smaller parishes the PCC was like a full congregation meeting anyway. After a year or two, I realised “minutes and matters arising” could bog down the meeting early on, so I put “mission and ministry” as a standing agenda item before “minutes and matters arising”. I now realise the agenda was similar to those parishes that have a short service before PCC, except that we were having a short house-group meeting first, to discuss where we were up to as a parish, that month. They knew they had a parish priest. They knew they were cared for. And they knew it would continue the same, even if they were one of ten. I prioritised this as the heart of my ministry. It was the way I kept in touch with all the key lay folks. I held the larger churches’ PCCs monthly (so they would only take an hour, which delighted everyone); the others every six or eight weeks. The people are the resource: a PCC run like this is where you meet the people, and help keep the church joyful, focussed, and full of life.

    A weekly Sunday service in every parish

    BCP provided a straightforward model that made a weekly Sunday service sustainable in every parish even in the absence of the vicar: it mandated that the layfolk (specifically the churchwardens) would lead the service; and within its covers, it provided everything they would need to do so; ASB was just as comprehensive. Mandating, encouraging, and supporting the layfolk to lead the service should be just as straightforward in 2025 as it was in 1662; the only tragedy is that we haven’t had a decent practical liturgy book for the last 25 years.

    Making the liturgy sustainable across four parishes began with the Sunday morning readings. BCP gave us collect, epistle and gospel for every Sunday, clearly set out, easy to find, but in archaic language and in solid blocks of text. ASB gave us the same, with improvements to layout, and readings in a mixture of RSV and three paraphrases: the Jerusalem Bible, the New English Bible, and the Good News Bible (under its earlier name Today’s English Version, TEV). Common Worship gives us nothing. Every lay person in the church is dependent on the vicar, and every vicar is dependent on a paid subscription, and even then has to choose week by week from a bewildering list of unexplained (and to most, incomprehensible) options, and then choose a translation, and then source the readings, and then print them out, and then distribute them to the lay folks, and then… what on earth have we done?

    I have spoken to two of the people involved in compiling the programme: one about the multiple errors I had spotted (which Synod later had to correct – it turned out that they knew about them but angrily blamed others in the group on a partisan basis); and one who was blissfully unaware that CW deviates at all from Revised Common Lectionary, when CW actually deviates from RCL more than any other implementation of the three-year cycle anywhere in Christendom.

    When I started, the four parishes were subscribing to the independently-produced Redemptorist Anglican Mass Sheets, but those didn’t have our patronal festivals or harvests, and more and more often I was producing sheets locally to replace the ones that arrived from Redemptorist, and ssra.uk began to evolve: ultimately an all-new implementation of the three-year lectionary, in an all-new translation; first just for us, now for the whole church.

    I added to this a locally-produced service book, and placed one in every church, with just the parts you need, but all the parts you need, including a good selection of triple-kyrie confessions, all the collects, introductions to the Peace, seasonal prefaces, eucharistic and post-communion prayers, seasonal blessings; 55 pages in all, including all our local patronals and harvests, in a user-friendly format and a top-quality binding. Other clergy look at it jealously. I would like to offer something similar to the wider church. I wrote a week ago by email to the relevant copyright holders; I await acknowledgements and replies.

    Power to the people…

    This service book made my job easier from week to week, but the question hanging in the air is how it became empowering for the laity. And here lies the final element in making the Ten Parish Benefice sustainable. We can make the resources. We also have to let the people use them.

    There are two realistic options for a meaningful weekly liturgical Sunday service in every parish in the absence of a priest: antecommunion, and Holy Communion by Extension. People often don’t want to gather at a different time or on a different day. So the lay-folks can read antecommunion – that’s the communion service as far as the Peace. It qualifies as “a service of the word”. It maintains continuity with the liturgy of the benefice, and the worldwide church both catholic and ecumenical. It’s a substantial biblical and prayerful liturgy, sustaining for regulars, and welcoming for newcomers. Every parish can do this. All they need is a decent lectionary (ssra.uk) and a decent liturgy book (watch this space).

    …for the Ten Parish Eucharistic Benefice

    Cherry Vann, the new Archbishop of Wales, says, “at least with [the Monmouth] model every church gets a eucharist at least once a month, some of them get twice a month, some of them get four times a month.”

    If they can have a priest that often, that’s great; and they should. But there’s absolutely no reason why they shouldn’t have communion every Sunday in between as well.

    That’s the point of Holy Communion by Extension.

    If you read the official 2001 House of Bishops statement on Communion by Extension, it is clear that it took a lot to get anything at all past a group encompassing bishops with eucharistic theology doggedly protestant – almost anti-eucharistic – as well as sky-high catholic. But churches throughout the land keep the reserved sacrament. Using the reserved sacrament to give communion to the people when the parish priest is away is normal practice in the Roman Catholic church, and quite probably therefore in many Roman-rite parishes in the Church of England as well, courtesy of the infinite elasticity of Canon B5, under which every Roman-rite parish, and every totally non-liturgical charismatic-evangelical parish, survives.

    The model envisaged in 2001 – that some poor soul has to go to early communion somewhere and rush fresh sacrament to the Communion-by-Extension parish (as if nobody else owns a car or an alarm clock) is bizarre and surely undignified in comparison to giving the people communion from the reserved sacrament. In the four-parish benefice, the two parishes that had never reserved before immediately understood the etiquette to be kept around reserving the sacrament and worked out an appropriately dignified regime.

    Most liturgies of Communion by Extension go to great lengths to ensure that no part of the service looks like what might clumsily be called ‘the consecration’, lest the laity become ‘confused’. The House of Bishops 2001 text allows a version of the institution narrative to be read at the beginning of the service only, and one other vaguely-eucharistic bible passage to be chosen, to be read later, in place of the eucharist prayer. This is like replacing a joyful hymn of praise, and centuries of carefully-crafted expression of all that surrounds the eucharistic mystery, with some sparse early draft jottings on the subject, ‘lest the laity become confused’ by what they see and hear. I say, don’t be so utterly patronising. The laity will most certainly not be ‘confused’ by a simple explanation such as this, at the offertory: “In the absence of our vicar (who is leading a service elsewhere this morning), we bring gifts of bread and wine which have already been present on the altar at an earlier service of holy communion led by our vicar. We remind ourselves now of the words which will have been used at that earlier service.” Our Anglican theology rightly acknowledges the eucharist to be a mystery, and best expresses that mystery in the words that we have agreed to use together, from the Book of Common Prayer to Common Worship. What better than to remind ourselves of those words as we participate in the very particular mystery that is Communion by Extension, a service that expresses our unity with our benefice and our parish priest, as well as each other and the worldwide and eternal church; not ‘saying’ those words in the particular way that the president said them, just – um – reminding ourselves of what was said. The eucharist is a mystery anyway; the laity understand that Holy Communion by Extension is somehow different, but somehow also participating in one and the same. Feel free to go sit in an ivory tower and tie yourself in a knot over this, while one ten-parish benefice crumbles, and this one thrives. Our laity are not confused; they are prayerful, grateful, and fully understand that they are in the presence of the profound mystery of the eucharist.

    Whether any part of our vast, powerful, and wealthy church hierarchy will capture any part of this vision, I simply cannot know. Our bishops, our General Synod, our liturgical commission, and our diocesan offices, have brought us to where we are. A challenge lies ahead, and it isn’t clear that the needs of ordinary parishes are high on the agenda; they just get combined into ever-larger benefices, and left to sink or swim. So lobby where you can; and in the meantime, maybe take Canon B5, and the fact that nobody’s looking, and step out and do what needs to be done. SSRA.uk is there to help – promote it where you can. Perhaps a liturgy book will follow soon; and in the meantime, for collects at least – handy tip – it’s page 268 onwards in Canada.

    The Ten Parish Eucharistic Benefice is possible. As far as I can tell, so far, it’s either this, or it’s nine (or ten) empty churches. Which will it be?

     

     

     

  • 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.

     

     

     

  • The Foundations for Ecclesial Instability: the Rock on the Sands

    by Martyn Percy, a Fellow of King’s College London and Harris Manchester College, Oxford 

    What is the connection between an obscure piece of research commissioned by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) in the early 1990s and the current crisis in the Church of England? The research, mostly conducted by academics with particular involvement from the George Mason University Centre for Global Policy, grew out of earlier research conducted by Ted Gurr at the University of Maryland via the ‘State Failure Task Force’ under the Center for International Development and Conflict Management (CIDCM), later led by Monty Marshall. Gurr and Marshall identified the common ‘problem set’ of issues that were the grounds – shaky or quicksand – that gave rise to instability.  Today, this research finds its practical outcome in the PITF – the Political Instability Task Force.

    Instability is hardly a new problem for churches. Persecution, doctrinal disputes, scandals and heresies have all resulted in some shaking of the foundations.  Moreover, the New Testament itself, and the teachings of Jesus, are often consumed with questions of stability. Jesus’ parable of the houses built on rock or sand, or the more agricultural motifs centred on deep-rooted plants, fruitfulness and growth come to mind. In one sense, the entire basis of Christian faith rests on the paradox of forfeiting security and stability for a life of instability and uncertainty…in order to gain safekeeping. After all, what else is a vocation other than living out risk with no guarantees or assurances.

    That said, we do make these choices for God as individuals. But I may only say ‘yes’ to God as myself. I cannot commit another person to my ‘yes’, however much I hope and pray that they may share the same affirmation. But what happens when, instead of us choosing instability and learning to live with it, this interloper arrives uninvited, and is communal and countrywide? My personal negotiation with instability is one thing. Social and political instability, however, is of a different order. When the foundations of societies are shaking, how do we know if this is an episodic quake that will pass, or something more damaging that will reduce even the strongest foundations to rubble and dust?

    The PITF drew on over a hundred global instability ‘problem cases’ from 1955-2011. The researchers identified several categories of state failure:

    1. Revolutionary and Ethnic wars (emerging from civil strife).
    2. Genocides and Politicides (often rooted in perceived inequalities).
    3. Adverse Regime changes (arising from or leading to civil war).

    The PITF were interested in the common denominators and the cultural, social, climatic and political factors that gave rise to instability which tipped into revolt, revolution and/or violence. Why do regimes suddenly topple, and governments that were elected get swept away like political debris? Readers will have their own view as to whether there is sufficient civil strife in society at the moment to trigger some sort of revolution. I doubt it, though the risks are markedly higher than at the end of the 20th-century, and the current grammar of dissent and protest is perhaps comparable to what was witnessed in the 1960s.

    How might a ‘Polity Instability Task Force’ assess the wobbling churches of late modernity?  For sure, money, sex and power – that unholiest of trinities – afflicts all mainstream denominations. Consider the history, data and the internecine ecclesial wars, and try and name any exceptions. There are internal wranglings and unease over lack of money and its unequal distribution, the method of ‘taxing’ congregations, and how the revenues are spent; over same-sex relations, scandals on clergy and sexual abuse, divorce and remarriage, and gender; and balancing democracy, leadership, management and compliance.

    The original State Failure Task Force was alive to the social, political and cultural conditions that precipitated regime changes. In ecclesiology, the equations are no less complex, but they are slower to resolve. One might say that the major regime changes in ecclesiology are the East-West Schism and the Reformation. But in truth, smaller versions of these global ruptures occur in every generation, some resulting in permanent rifts and then further extended fragmentation.

    However, the cultural ground in which the foundations of mainline denominations sit is no longer stable. The emergence of meritocracy, less deference, mass mobilisation, greater individualism and consumerism in expressions and preferences all conspire to render this ground unstable and shifting. Mapped on to a global scale, sexuality, power and money quickly become enmeshed in North-South, First-World/Developing-World rivalries, with ethnicity and the legacy of empire and exploitation fuelling the complexity. Peter Turchin’s fine End Times (Allen Lane, 2023), explains how regimes rise and fall, and what it is about forms of control and the exercise of power that makes some types of governance especially susceptible to implosion or overthrow. Putin’s foray into Ukraine throws some light on how political disintegration gains traction when power is challenged, and elites lose their authority under the weight of their failures and ensuing disenchantment.

    It is Turchin who also coined the term cliodynamics – Clio being the muse of history in Greek mythology, and dynamics simply the study how and why change takes place over periods of time. Using mathematical models, a cliodynamic approach can predict expansion and retraction in economies, state collapse or implosion, social discontent and even civil wars. While not a perfect science, it can explain how and why institutions and societies disintegrate.

    So, what would cliodynamics and an ecclesial Polity Instability Task Force make of the Church of England at this moment? Several observations are apparent, and will create the conditions for instability:

    1. Major shifts away from more open electoral systems to ones that are more closed, authoritarian and managed systems of control produce boredom and detachment, festering resentment, and may result in speculative conspiracy theories (e.g., we know where all the money goes…).
    2. Elitism, whether it is quasi-monarchical or some ontologised managerialism, will result in a larger critical mass resenting the hierarchies and its powers of rule and decision-making. A lack of accountability, transparency, integrity and humility will also produce calls for regime-change.
    3. Loss or rapid erosion of devolved local powers, assertions of control (e.g., adopt the strategic vision) and penalties for daring to dissent will create a groundswell for secession, in which the exercise of despotic power will only produce tensions between central control mechanisms and those meant to comply.
    4. The collapse of the central governance, unable to manage external complexities and challenges, and unable to fund, manage and resource internal systems of order and control, will tend to question the capacity of the ruling elite to hold authority, power and any ability to govern.

    You might like to ponder how this all fits together with the Church of England and its leadership, and the grass roots. Here the Save the Parish movement is both a symptom and cause of widespread ecclesial dis-ease with the current regime. It has quickly won widespread support, largely due to growing fears over plutocratic-despotic episcopal leadership.

    A plutocracy is a society ruled and controlled by a handful of people who hold great wealth and income. The term combines Greek ploutos (wealth) and kratos (power).  Plutocracy is not a political philosophy so much as the name for a malaise, with the term first coined in English in the 1630s – times of Laudian and Stuart periods of governance, a decade before our own Civil War. The unaccountable and divine right to govern was the issue at stake, over and against the calls for proper democratic structures and political accountability.

    The term plutocracy is normally used critically and pejoratively to warn against an adverse and undesirable social context. Plutocracies are regimes distracted by their own fears and vanities, and quickly lose sight of social responsibility and the causes of poverty and inequality.

    Furthermore, whether left-wing or right-wing, plutocracies can ferment class division and conflict, and encourage individualistic wealth accumulation through competition for resources, replacing subsidised costs that were hitherto allocated on a needs-must basis into an economy of competitive bidding between those who are struggling. Plutocracies can go further, and insist that bids for essential subsidies and funding support now conform to the objectives, vision and goals of the regime and its elites.

    Now, nobody is suggesting for a moment that Bishops or Diocesan Secretaries have great personal wealth through their ecclesiastical preferment. The modern ecclesial plutocracy is more subtle. Diocesan HQ’s, Finance Committees, the Church Commissioners and the National Church Institutions have become the new quasi-baronial powers, whilst the ordinary person in the pew and the local parishes have seen their tax demands (i.e., parish share contributions) grow, whilst accountability and transparency over expenditure has declined.

    In short, demands by the centre for more money paired with less democratic accountability will eventually produce movements like Save the Parish. The elites demanding more and more while giving less and less are perceived to be bureaucratic plutocrats, spending money (not their own, but rather that of the people, laity and churches) on speculative projects and visions rather than supporting local clergy and ministry in parishes.

    The recent debacle over the Independent Safeguarding Board (ISB) has, for many churchgoers, and quite a number of onlookers, become an indicative sign of a leadership that is plutocratic, despotic and certainly elitist. Indeed, as a model of quasi-monarchical episcopacy, it has been high-handed and anti-democratic. Hiring and firing staff at will; asserting the independence of the ISB some days when it suits the regime to say so, yet on other days treating ISB staff as a subordinate body of subjects with few rights. It suggests a capricious use of power and authority.

    However, since the ISB ‘experiment’ cost Archbishops’ Council at least £500,000, Save the Parish would presumably like us all to know that this money could have been better spent. Or at least this expenditure could and should have been debated. Yet that could only have been achieved through greater democratic accountability, proper scrutiny and auditing, deliberation and examination.

    The Archbishops’ Council does not want that level of transparency. Whoever was in control of ‘Operation ISB’ no longer thought that independent oversight of safeguarding was in their interests or suited other objectives, so they shut it down. Charles I was against fiscal transparency and democratic scrutiny too, and the rest, as they say, was (tragic) history.

    Here we run into the opacity of those who control the money and the power, and are skilled in using the antediluvian structures which provide the reasoning for not being transparent and accountable (i.e., “it is too complex to explain…”; “we’ll need to think about that and then get back to you at our next meeting within the cycle…”; and “that probably needs to be looked at by a different committee…”). We’ve all been on the receiving end of such tropes. Some of us are also fluent in the language.

    The ecclesial scenario sketched above entirely corresponds to the findings of the PITF for the CIA in the 1990s. The Church of England, or rather its leadership, is on the brink. It has been whittling away at the democratic instruments such as General Synod for some time, turning what should be a proper auditorium for debate and deliberation into a theatrical spectacle more akin to party political bread and circus.

    Yet quite suddenly, serious and searching questions over the meaning and interpretation of the word ‘independent’ in safeguarding governance have now called into question the entire direction, structure and running of an ecclesial regime.  The stance of the two ISB board members was simple. They stood up for genuine independence, and advocated for victims of abuse – so they lost their jobs.

    Rather like the solitary ‘Tank Man of Tiananmen Square’ (June 5th 1989) they simply stood in the way of the prevailing power and would not be moved. Yes, they still lost – swept away by the force, assertion and power of a regime in control. But this time we have all been able to witness this action against them, and come to realise it was an action against us all. We have observed a brave act of defiance and the morally-principled and rightful exercise of disobedience. The regime expressed its regret, but has not apologised – indeed told us their actions were necessary and beneficial for our progress. But such assurances from the regime no longer carry weight or conviction; nor do they sound authentic.

    Like Orwell’s Ministry of Truth, ecclesial communications and assertions no longer correspond to reality. Serious disenchantment has set in. Real questions are being asked. As with any regime, it finds itself on the brink when its citizens have to choose between unwavering loyalty and compliance – or the dangerous acts of dissent that might be involved in expressing a free mind that seeks better alternatives.

    At the moment, the regime remains in power, controlling the money, media and message. But something stronger than sullen resentment has been born out of this ongoing safeguarding omnishambles. Some now sense a change of mood and some real determination that there must be serious reform and wholesale revolution. True, it will take a lot to raise General Synod from its habitual torpor. And the agenda for the gathering and the set-piece speeches still evidence a politburo in full control of the party conference and the messaging to wider membership. Yet the ennui it breeds is undeniable.

    The Polity Instability Task Force are examining a growing corpus of evidence. There are some significant signs indicating winds of change. The Spirit blows where it wills.

  • ‘Resource Churches’: When Planting Becomes Colonialism

    by the Revd Robert Thompson, Vicar St Mary’s, Kilburn & St James’, West Hampstead; host of Open Table, London; member of General Synod

    Robert Thompson

    For those of us who come from the island of Ireland, the language of plants and planting, on the face of it a lovely horticultural metaphor, has a morally problematic dark side. The plantation of Ulster, and of other parts of Ireland, was a colonial endeavour. It involved the resettlement of my own English and Scottish ancestors and was characterised by, at the least, the appropriation of the land of the Irish, and at worst a violent hostility towards them that too often resulted in death. The present, continuing, sectarian divisions of the north of Ireland are a direct result of this form of planting.

    As the Vicar of a parish which has a UKME/GMH majority congregation, I have also become acutely aware of how this same rhetoric of planting was operative in the colonisation of Caribbean islands. Here, much more problematically, most of the indigenous peoples were either murdered or died of imported European diseases. The combination of both these resulted in what can only be described as genocide. Here too the land was parcelled out to the incoming settlers as large ‘plantations’ but, worse than in Ireland, the human labour for these estates came from Africa in chains on slave ships. People made in God’s image were reduced by the people of Christian nations, including the church and missionary agencies, to capital and commodity, to be owned, bought, sold and killed at whim. The history of colonialism also has on-going consequences in the global distribution of wealth and racism.

    In the contemporary Church, we have come to use the horticultural imagery of planting, and to practise it, without much critical reflection either on the language itself or on its practice. As the panacea for our falling numbers we are now are wedded to a ‘mixed ecology’ of church, of which planting forms a major part, as the basis of our future mission. So-called ‘Resource Churches’ are a major strand of this mixed ecology. But many of us have come to the lived realisation that here, too, the seemingly benign language that oozes notions of practical support is not the reality on the ground.

    It was to unmask this contradiction that I recently tweeted:

    “Resource Churches” what a misnomer! “And so Jesus told them a parable: Vicar alone on housing estate parish writes to neighbouring Resource Church, with 13 full time staff, 4 being clergy, 5 times over a year to ask for help with accounts & position of treasurer. No reply….Bishop calls housing estate vicar this week to say Resource Church Vicar would like to ‘church plant’ into housing estate parish & church building. Housing estate Vicar says to bishop “You can tell Resource Church Vicar to go f**k themselves.” Let them with ears to hear, hear!”

    I then further retweeted the original post by saying:

    And how many Resource Churches have a woman, UKME/GMH or LGBTQIA+ person or someone living with a disability or a chronic health condition as Vicar? Of initial 19 in @dioceseoflondon only 1 has a UKME Vicar, 1 now (but not originally) has a woman & as for the other E&D markers…

    My purpose in these posts was to problematise the naïve notion that a ‘mixed ecology’ church is not already a ‘mixed ecclesiology church’ in which we have created a form of neo-liberal, competitive capitalism as the precarious foundation (built on sand) of our ‘common’ life together. I wanted to indicate that, just as in our colonial history, the lived effects of so-called church planting and resource churches are based on a binary opposition of some forms of church to others. Just as in the plantations of Ireland and the Caribbean, this ‘othering’ has deathly consequences for those who are forcibly, without any real consultation and with the blunt instrument of a Bishop’s Mission Order, resettled or displaced.

    The responses from a myriad of clergy and laity to my social media posts ‘parabalising’ the effects of ecclesial planting and resourcing show that these are experienced by many of us in our day to day ministry as a form of colonialism. This colonialism is leading to the breakdown of what has been established ecclesiology of the Church of England as well as trust between us.

    Don’t get me wrong! I am not anti-evangelism, or anti-church planting, so long as they use models of partnership ‘with’ and are contextually intelligent. I am not anti-New Worshipping Communities or anti-Fresh Expressions, or anything else that helps in the living out of the gospel of Jesus Christ and Christ’s proclamation and embodiment of the justice and peace of God’s Reign. But what I, and many, are increasingly deeply concerned about is the ways in which this now happens in parallel and deeply sectarian tracks, in competition not only with parishes, but with other emerging expressions of church. This has created situations in which some clergy and people are completely under-resourced, whilst others have a cup that overflows. As one person on a thread said, these are not ‘Resource Churches’ but ‘Resourced Churches’ pumped and primed with money from the Strategic Development Fund whilst parishes are expected to give, give, give to the diocese with little in return.

    I make this critique not so much as the ‘liberal Catholic’ that many might label me, but as a person formed in conservative and charismatic evangelicalism. I hold, within myself and in my own faith development, the tension of the unity of the church. Biblically, therefore, for me, what is most blatantly contrary to the teaching of Christ and that of Paul are the ways in which church planting and resourcing are pretty well always practised within sectarian silos, leading to economic injustices within the church, and overwork, mental health challenges and burn-out for many.

    The effect of the Save the Parish movement and the election of many of who support it to General Synod has rather focussed this debate. The disillusionment and anger of the many clergy who contacted me indicates that what happened in Winchester could potentially happen in very many dioceses very soon.  To save us from such a breakdown on a national scale, it is time for the present colonialist model of planting and resourcing to stop. It should be replaced by biblical economic fairness. As another contributor to a thread said:

    a modest distribution of SDF funds amongst a single deanery rather than a single ‘resource’ church could revolutionise each church’s potential for mission, and let’s not lose sight of the most important thing: ensure they are solvent. A comparatively minor cash injection would enable struggling churches to renovate, complete minor re-ordering, sort out any problems with the ‘show’ and make money. Which is what we all serve, after all.

    When the rich get rich and the poor get poorer, we are called to practice Jubilee.

     

  • In Search of the ‘Optimal’

    by Grace Davie, Professor Emeritus of Sociology at the University of Exeter and co-editor (with Lucian Leustean) of The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Europe (2021)

    I was delighted to respond positively to the invitation to write a piece for Via Media – a chance to put my own thoughts in order. Too often invited to ‘take sides’, I want to explore ‘optimal’ as opposed to right or wrong answers to complex questions. Of course, there are principles that we need to respect, but even these should be debated with courtesy, and much, in my view, depends on asking the right question in the first place.

    Take, for example, the question of ‘establishment’. I have listened to arguments both for and against as if this was a black and white issue; but it cannot be so, given the weight of history. Like it or not, we have inherited a model from the past, meaning that we will feel its impact whatever we do. This does not mean that the present situation is immutable.

    What then is the best way forward in a society that is both increasingly secular and increasingly diverse? Is there any place for establishment in this mix?

    The Church of England is a ‘weak’ established church (no doubt about that) with a distinctive past – one of partial rather than total monopoly in a country that has housed significant religious minorities for centuries not decades. There are important positives in this combination: such a church has opportunities denied to more dominant equivalents. It is better placed to welcome rather than exclude, and to encourage rather than to condemn; deployed wisely, it can foster the maintenance of a tolerant and pluralist society. Specifically, it has the potential to promote and to sustain a constructive conversation about faith (of all kinds) at the centre of our society, an ever more necessary task. The goal in this respect is to extend privilege rather than remove it; to level up, rather than down.

    The parish raises both similar and different issues. Here again, is an inherited model but one that is ‘too big for itself’. How can the parish system (effectively a public utility) be sustained without the equivalent of a church tax?

    No one has spoken more eloquently of this model than Matthew Parris (The Times, 19 November 2021). His position is clear: ‘I don’t believe in God. But I love the Church, pay my subs to All Saints in Elton, sing hymns and delight in the Testaments Old and New’. The perceived ‘dangers’ are variously personified: the archbishops; diocesan plans; charismatic churches in general; church planting in particular; the new vicar and so on. The tone in the lengthy comments below the article is unforgiving, but none of them articulates the crucial point: this is a spectrum, not a zero-sum game. Many of us – whatever our churchmanship – can empathise with elements of Matthew Parris’ article, never more so than at the turning points in life. But all of us know that doing nothing will lead, as night follows day, to empty and decaying churches – hardly a good look.

    Rehearsing the same arguments over again won’t help. What might move the situation on is a clear analysis of what exactly we want to keep from our historical legacy and what can go? Quite a bit if only we could agree on priorities.

    Circumstances, moreover, alter cases – sometimes in unexpected ways. At one and the same time, COVID-19 has not only revealed the significance of church buildings for countless individuals (by no means all of them churchgoers) but vastly stimulated the online alternatives. Reactions to lockdown varied: some rejoiced in new-found freedoms; others mourned the loss of the familiar, physical as well as liturgical. Most hovered somewhere in between.

    Two points need careful underlining. The first addresses quality. Even a glance at what is on offer reveals that both in-person worship and its online equivalents are enormously varied, and that both can be good and less good. They are, moreover, complementary. Joining a Europe-wide service for Ukraine in early March, including the Anglican chaplaincies in both Moscow and Kyiv, was a deeply moving experience and necessarily online. Of course, this didn’t replace the fervent and continuing prayers of parishes up and down the land, but it most certainly enhanced that effort.

    Secondly, and finally, the new normal. ‘They (the congregation) are not coming back’ is a constant refrain. But a similar reticence is felt all over society; it is foolish to think that what is happening in the world of work, healthcare, leisure, and shopping will not be happening in the churches. None of us are where we were in 2019, nor will we be in the foreseeable future. We must aim for what is optimal. A carefully-planned and locally-based mix of in-person and online worship must be encouraged both within the parish and beyond it. Easier said than done, I know: but we have to start somewhere.

  • Now is Not The Time to Cut Clergy Posts!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    And it doesn’t make sense on financial grounds.

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

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

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

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