ViaMedia

Category: Racism

  • Wise Words for this Year’s End…

    by the Right Revd Paul Bayes, Bishop of Liverpool and Chair of the Ozanne Foundation

    And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
    “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
    And he replied:
    “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
    That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

    Minnie Louise Haskins, who wrote these words in 1908, does not often appear in anthologies of great English poetry. Her poem was privately published in a collection called “The Desert”, and would almost certainly have been forgotten, if it were not for King George VI who used them in his 1939 Christmas broadcast to (what was then) the British Empire.

    At the end of December 1939 the “phony war” had been running for almost three months. War had been declared, but nothing seemed to be happening. The bombs had not yet begun to fall on the UK. Dread and threat were certainly in people’s minds, but it was an invisible dread and a threat chiefly existing in the imagination. To that dread and threat the King’s quoting of Haskins’ poem spoke clearly, and the words became immensely popular, iconic and inspirational. They are carved in stone at the entrance to the George VI memorial chapel in Windsor.

    At first sight it’s not obvious that the King chose the right words. Anxious people in dark and complicated times long for a known way. And there are always those who will insist that they have a safe light – if only people will follow them blindly.

    This is certainly true this year, and indeed in the past few years.

    The ongoing strength of political populism in the West flows from this anxiety, as people look for strongmen in whose booming words they can lose their own voice. So does the growth of movements based on “alternative facts” such as the antics of the President of the United States and his supporters in the weeks after the election there, or the stridently anti-rational lockdown protests seen around the world, including here in Liverpool. Empty promises of certain light, the hate that says it will cast out fear, all detached from the world’s reality.

    Meanwhile Minnie Haskins, and King George, reached for a deeper wisdom, and people in 1939 were inspired by it, and I think we should be again. “For we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).

    For me there’s another dimension to this, which goes beyond Haskins’ poem.

    Walking by faith is the way things work, and is in particular the calling of the Church; and in the end the way becomes clear as we walk – together. We are not called to a vacuous smoothing-out of the complexities of the world, but to a process of courageous contribution and mutual enriching, so that the wisdom of God, as shared with a diverse community, may become clearer for us.

    God’s wisdom becomes clearer as each person takes the opportunity to listen, and to speak, and to listen again. In short it becomes clearer through a diversity of voices and a mutual discerning.

    In the political arena we have seen this discerning process in action – sometimes despite the best efforts of a simplistic and over-optimistic boosterism. Scientific advice and the values of human life and flourishing have (eventually) shaped policy. Of course this policy has had to be nimble, and to steer quickly and sometimes erratically by a flickering light. But there is no known way, and together the world is moving in the dark.

    As I look back on the year and on the world, it seems to me that most of the political failures in dealing with the pandemic have come from a willed disregard of corporate wisdom, and from pretending there is a clear light. To feel our way in darkness and in faith is not heroic; but in the end it is the way the world works, and is working.

    The same is true for the conversations within the Church on the matters that vex us. As an example, “Living in Love and Faith” is a complex and steady process which seeks to listen to many voices, including those (the diverse lived-out voices of LGBTI+ people) which have hitherto been excluded from the room.

    Together we are seeking to discern a future for love, in faith. The bright lights and the booming words of a contentious certainty continue to attract some – but for most of us the way of mutual and gentle discerning is the way the church works, and is working.

    Whether in the world of politics or of organised religion, this is a slow and a modest way to proceed.

    Those who promise a simple light will continue to criticise it, indeed with an increasing shrillness. But for me Minnie Haskins and King George VI knew a thing or two, and I shall walk with them, into a future which is shrouded in darkness and filled with surprise but which is nonetheless assured by the presence of God.

    In 1939 the King ended his quote from Haskins’ poem with the line I quoted: “That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.” But the poem goes on in words that make sense in the context of the Christmas story, the story of the Incarnation, and which I commend to all Via Media readers as the year turns and as our hopes gather for 2021:

    So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
    And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

  • LLF: Power, “Mother Church” and the Anglican Communion

    by Dr Jo Sadgrove, Research Fellow at the Centre for Religion and Public Life at the University of Leeds; Research and Learning advisor, USPG and Member of the Social & Biological Science working group of LLF

    Over the years, I have been fortunate to spend some time analysing sexuality, Christian belonging and community life around the Anglican Communion. These experiences have encouraged me to consider debates about same-sex relationships within the Anglican Communion as reflecting aspects of global power dynamics. In this short piece, I want to think not about sexuality or sexual identity per se, but about power. Specifically, how processes like LLF over the next few years might protect those people who have had their power taken away by the churches’ actions within and between different parts of the Anglican Communion. LGBTQI+ people around the world have suffered hugely in the crossfire of global exchanges that are as much about international relations as they are about physical bodies. A nuanced conversation about the nature of power within and between national institutions is, to me, a critical part of what debates about same-sex relationships require.

    I have found the spectre of the Anglican Communion within the LLF discussions rather puzzling. At one point in the process there was talk of reporting to the Lambeth Conference, that LLF might be a ‘gift’ to the Communion. Such thinking seemed to echo the Church of England’s unequal historic relationship with the Anglican Communion. Perhaps I misunderstood the intent, but it struck me at the time that we needed to turn the conversation on its head – to ask and explore what engaging other parts of the Anglican Communion might offer to the Church of England’s conversation about sexuality, society and scripture. By this, I do not mean using church stances on sexuality in other parts of the world to garner support for differing perspectives held in the Church of England. Rather, trying to suspend disbelief and enter a ‘third space’ in which to think through assumptions about the relationships between sexual identity and practice, social performance, marriage, material wellbeing, the nature of leadership and the Christian tradition, not least the role of the Bible. 

    Many years ago, I had the privilege of being part of the evaluation team for the Communion-wide Continuing Indaba process[1]. These ambitious cross-provincial encounters sought to break the dominance of western parliamentary-style ways of negotiating differences of view in relation to a number of issues across the Communion. Representatives from three different provinces spent a week living in each others’ contexts to learn about the life of the church in each place. The group then engaged in a facilitated conversation about difference. The process drew on a Zulu process for conflict transformation in which community members gather to share their perspectives on an issue facing or dividing the community. Continuing Indaba did not aim to avoid conflict or foster consensus across the conversation groups, but to nurture an understanding of how contexts shaped attitudes towards a range of challenges facing the churches including mission and evangelism, social justice, Christian ethics and sexuality. 

    The Indaba project required a great deal of courage from participants; many approached it with real fear. The discomforts of culture shock and profound personal vulnerability were felt in all of the encounters. Conversations were challenging and often painful. Participants had to confront aspects of themselves and their cultures that were uncomfortable and hard to acknowledge. Power dynamics were complex and differed greatly across the different groups. Patriarchy, racism, prejudice and (colonial) power had to be heard and explored by the groups. Yet despite the personal challenges, the value to the majority of participants of seeing their own church, context and worldview refracted through the perspectives of those from different provinces was clear. There was a marked growth of confidence in engaging in conversations where there existed real differences of view. We could see an emerging desire to engage with openness and curiosity rather than out of defensiveness or hostility. There was no expectation that minds would be changed on any of the issues. But the combinations of different provincial voices, the shifting vulnerabilities as people moved from context to context, and the building of relationships through the mutual exploration of another context profoundly re-shaped the conversation about same-sex relationships. 

    It strikes me that this kind of engagement is one that the LLF resources seek to foster – to open the space for engagement rather than closing it down. Continuing Indaba was challenging. It teaches us that careful facilitation, constant vigilance over power dynamics within group discussions and the protection of those who are making themselves vulnerable are integral to such an undertaking. Ensuring that these aspects are in place will be the true test for the Church of England over the coming years.

    In a recent book The Weirdest People in the World, Joseph Henrich explores the exceptionalism of those raised in societies that are Western, Educated, Industrialised, Rich and Democratic.  In unravelling the peculiar nature of the Western psyche, Henrich reminds us of the profound challenges in understanding the limitations of our own cultural perspectives. Working across cultures is extremely helpful for identifying blind spots within our own thinking – for ensuring that the questions that might loom large when examining another context are addressed when seeking to understand ourselves. At its best, cross cultural engagement helps us grasp how very distinct our own discourses are for thinking and talking about sexuality and prejudice. It ensures that projections onto ‘homophobic Africans’ or ‘the permissive west’ (both stereotypes Continuing Indaba had to grapple with) are recognised as such, queried and neutralised so that real engagement can happen.

    For many involved on all sides of LLF, the Anglican Communion looms as another challenge for the Church of England’s deliberations. Why is this? Because the global Anglican context calls for a deeper engagement with many of the fundamental questions that underpinned early missionary expansion. Issues of money, power and race continue to inform both debates about sexuality in the Anglican Communion and global mission. One of the most challenging legacies of colonialism, mission and international development appears to have been that of fixing the categories of ‘donor’ and ‘recipient’ in the minds of those who live in the global north and global south respectively. Whilst there is a wholehearted desire in the Church of England to practise mission in a mutual relationship of giving and receiving, there remain very entrenched ways of thinking about who might offer what to where, and limited thinking about how these habits and mentalities might be liberated from the crucible of colonialism, slavery and empire in which they were, for better or worse, shaped.

    Issues of race and class intersect in powerful ways within global debates about sexuality. The Anglican Communion holds and reflects these painful realities. To see these for what they are clarifies our understanding about how national, church and interest-group power structures can inflict multiple oppressions. We can see these at work in some of the more hostile commentary that has followed the publication of LLF. Mutual encounters across contexts in which the intent is not to agree but to suspend disbelief, to listen, to draw on different knowledges and models of being Anglican indicate how liberation might be possible. Perhaps through deeper cross-contextual engagement, the Anglican Communion can be seen for the gift that it is and the Church of England can learn what it is to experience the vulnerability of being a recipient. Perhaps this is all part of the Archbishops’ call at this week’s General Synod to become a simpler, humbler Church.

    [1] For a valuable account of the impact and potential of the Continuing Indaba process see Nesbitt, P.D., 2017. Indaba!: A way of listening, engaging, and understanding across the Anglican communion. Church Publishing, Inc..

  • Wise Leadership: Needed Now More Than Ever!

    by the Ven Elizabeth Adekunle, Archdeacon of Hackney

    Our leadership matters now more than ever, as we look to our leaders to steer us through these choppy and unpredictable waters. The world has been faced with grave uncertainty because of Covid-19 and there are questions around how leaders manage the effects of a pandemic they cannot control. We have seen first-hand the legislative decisions that leaders across the world have made in response to the spread of the virus, and this has led to comparisons about effective leadership.

    In addition to this uncertainty, the world watched on their screens the murder of George Floyd during lockdown and the subsequent protests and stories of injustice and discrimination that emerged. Despite lockdown many felt empowered by ‘Black Lives Matter’ to protest and to ask leaders to confront and address the racial discrimination within our structures and institutions.

    If this was not enough uncertainty, add to the list the future leadership of the United States. The turnout of voters this year has vastly surpassed the number who voted in the 2016 election. One reason for the increase is likely, in part, to the gradual expansion of voting rights but another more important reason, relates to the desperate desire for good judgement and wise leadership in an environment that seems overwhelmingly divided. The likelihood is that we will know the results later today and the outcome of this contested presidential election may well lead to anger, frustration and violence.

    How our leaders lead and implement change in this moment in time, affects us in ways that leadership has not dealt with in recent history. It seems crucial therefore that our leaders have the right tools to take on this immense level of power and responsibility.

    The bible offers key teachings, not only about the dangers of the allure of leadership, but about wise affective leadership. The Hebrew scriptures aptly refer to these books as Wisdom Literature. These five books deal precisely with our human struggles and real-life experiences. Armed with prayer and quiet reflection, within these pages we see nuggets and insights in to how to be wise. For example, Proverbs 8:12 says “I, wisdom, dwell with prudence, and I find knowledge and discretion.”

    In the New testament we see the practical application of such leadership in the mission and service of Jesus; in his trial and death. Jesus exhibits a counter-culture style of leadership that is not based on ego and progression but rather on humility and integrity. A list of qualities and characteristics can be found in the nine Fruits of the Spirit; all of which help to develop wise judgement.

    Biblical teachings are ongoing tools in an unpredictable world, in which God’s reflective wisdom is needed during times of trial and times of temptation, so that leaders do not pretend. The 1662 book of Common prayer offers these wise words:

    “Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places to acknowledge and confess our manifold sins and wickedness; and that we should not dissemble nor cloke them before the face of Almighty God our heavenly Father; but confess them with an humble, lowly, penitent, and obedient heart; to the end that we may obtain the same by his infinite goodness and mercy”.

    Wisdom can and should be nurtured, for wisdom brings good judgement, altruism, a perspective beyond the individual and an understanding of the power that leadership can wield, both positive and negative. Leadership can bring out the best and the worst in those who step up to the challenge. Therefore, recognising this and holding in tension these extremes is crucial for good clear judgement.

    In a world that demands immediacy and is often unreasonable and unwilling to see the opinion of others, or indeed the bigger picture, or the longer view it takes wise leadership not be to seduced by those that shout the loudest, or miss the voices of the ‘least of these’ and the crucial discernment process that comes from listening to others and learning from others.

    Nelson Mandela in his biography Long Walk to Freedom equated a great leader with a Shepherd, Mandela said, “He stays behind the flock, letting the nimblest go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind”.

    To lead wisely means to recognise that one does not have all the answers and cannot and will not know everything. Wise leadership involves a collective group of people with different gifts and skills in which different people at different times, depending on their strengths, or ‘nimbleness’ come forward to steer the group in the best direction. Mandela’s metaphor also hints at the strength and agility of a group that does not have to wait for and then respond to a command from (the front), the one in charge. That kind of agility is more likely to be developed by a group when a leader conceives of his/her role as creating the opportunity for collective leadership, as opposed to merely setting the direction that all should follow.

    Wise leadership can be counter-cultural, in fact a leader may represent traits that are the opposite of what the world has been trained to see its leaders do and say. There are times when great leadership means letting go of what others, including one’s seniors, perceive one’s actions ought to be as a leader. Jesus is a good example of this. Wise leadership will inevitably involve God’s commandment to love and an understanding of the long view.

    The wise leader understands that purposeful work is essential to human dignity and human flourishing and the immediacy of the short-term solution often does not create lasting impact.

    Let us pray therefore that we will have the courage to recognise and appoint wise leaders that can contemplate the long view and hold them to account in order to make the world a fairer more just place


    Archdeacon Liz will be in discussion with Cardinal Tagle on November 2nd 2020 for the first of the Autumn Westminster Abbey lecture series on ‘Wise Leadership’. The talk will be available on YouTube shortly.

    https://www.westminster-abbeyorg/abbey-events/lectures-and-talks/2020/november/religion-nurture-wisdom

  • Resignations, Dysfunctionality and the House of Bishops

    by Jayne Ozanne, Editor of ViaMedia, Director of the Ozanne Foundation and Member of General Synod

    I resigned from my Bishop’s Council this week.

    The decision has been a long time coming – I’ve felt I’ve been hitting my head against a brick wall over our failure to prioritise the poor and disadvantaged, especially given we are such a rich diocese, for years. In fact, I’ve been banging the drum since I got onto Council five years ago. Interestingly, even though we constantly rated serving the poor in our diocese as a “the top priority” during our discussions, it rarely seemed to make the cut into any paperwork . In virtually every meeting I can remember I have had to remind those in authority of the commitments we had agreed as a Council.

    I realised things would never change when after one Diocesan Synod meeting I was told, when the priority yet again failed to be mentioned to those gathered, that it was because it was too long to fit on the slide! All rather ironic given that we’d just had a report that emphasised the real issue in our diocese was that of “hidden poverty”!

    In truth, I know I was as tired of banging my drum as Council members were of hearing it.

    So, eventually, it got to the point where I felt that the best way for them to hear me was by my absence. You see, sometimes leaving is the only way left for people to be heard….

    Since I resigned, I’ve been reflecting on why it is so difficult for those in the central Church or Diocesan structures to hear what those outside or on the fringes of the Church see as completely obvious. It came into sharp focus again this week with the IICSA report which stated what so many of us have been saying for some time now – that we need a completely independent safeguarding system in the Church in order for it to be fully functional.

    I have decided that the real problem is that our boards and councils are populated by mostly white, mostly male, mostly middle class and mostly middle aged (and that’s being kind) people who all hold virtually the same world view – and who are incapable of recognising that there is legitimacy to any other view other than their own. Because they all end up endorsing each other, they confirm their own legitimacy, and nothing therefore ever changes.

    That’s why we find it difficult to embrace those from other backgrounds – those that are different to the monochrome “norm” that the Church of England has built into the warp and weft of its very foundations. You just have to look at the make up of General Synod to see what I mean.

    It is why we’ve an appalling record on nearly every measure of diversity – we are seen by those “on the outside and margins” as racist, sexist, homophobic and transphobic. We are outrageously bad at dealing with people with differing abilities too. Although it’s “not good show” of course for us to admit this in public.

    And what does this “monochrome” system result in? Well, I won’t be popular in saying this, but I believe this ultimately results in the single most critical problem for us as a Church. It’s the real root of most of our problems, which few are prepared to admit let alone publicly name – it is that we have a leadership structure that is, I’m afraid to say, deeply dysfunctional. It seems our House of Bishops operates like a boys public school, with prefects and head boys who whip the younger boys (and they are of course mostly boys!) into line. It may seem like the body that so many aspire to, but once you’re there you get sucked into colluding with a system that few feel able to break free from. Although thankfully, there are some brave individuals who do.

    It is interesting to question why so few have called this out publicly over all these years?

    Especially given that to many of us on the outside and fringes this dysfunction is plain to see. We have bishops leading double lives, which no one seems to bother about or challenge. We have bishops preaching one thing and practicing another, particularly when it comes to the way in which they treat LGBT+ clergy in their midst. We have bishops who lament safeguarding failures, but whose own record is pretty poor. It all leads to a postcode lottery, which everyone knows about but no one does anything about because they (we?) have all got too much to lose…or worse, that they don’t think that somehow anyone will notice.

    But we do, and we all know. The charade was up a long time ago.

    It’s just like my own experience with Bishop’s Council – no one can be bothered to bang the drum any more. We are resigned to letting it all continue, with no one rocking the boat.

    But time is running out. Many are tiring of this game. And they’re leaving.

    So much so that soon the primary problem won’t be the fear of people rocking the boat, but rather the fear of ensuring that there are still people who are prepared to sail in it!

    So reform is needed – and it needs to start at the top.

    The House of Bishops is about to release resources for the Church of England to engage with over sexuality. What they seem to have failed to see (again!) is that the vast majority of people in the pews made up their minds about LGBT issues long ago….what they’re waiting for is for the House of Bishops to finally do so themselves. And to do so in a way that has some credibility.

    So it’s time the House of Bishops had an OFSTED inspection. They need to turn the mirror on themselves and take a long hard look at what they see. They need to be honest about their dysfunctionality, their divisions and their double standards.

    Miracles can happen – and with God’s grace this might just be one of them. Goodness knows we need it!

  • Walking in Beauty – Contemplation in times of Struggle, Suffering and Exclusion

    by the Very Revd Rogers Govender, Dean of Manchester

    It is an accepted fact that we are currently living in extremely challenging times, especially made more so by Covid-19. We have always had the challenges of human sexuality, poverty, racism and injustice to deal with. What Cov-19 has done is to expose all these issues more starkly. Perhaps because we are more tuned into social media and world news we are experiencing more awareness? The murder of George Floyd hit the news very quickly – I remember following the street protests on a live Facebook feed as it was happening. I was able to post my disgust and anger in seconds.

    During the recent Pride season, I decided to fly the Rainbow Flag on the tower of my Cathedral. It was well received apart from a letter of complaint from a group of clergy. My initial reaction was that it would have been good to receive such a letter when I was speaking prophetically at services and on the news media on the racism being exposed by Black Lives Matter! No such support against racism was offered to me by these clergy colleagues. However, when the issue of human sexuality emerges I suddenly receive a letter of complaint! Is this the Church that I am part of, a Church that wants to grow God’s Kingdom? I think our Lord must weep over his Church and the exclusion and injustice that we often collude with.

    It is a great temptation to become bitter and angry at one another and the world because of the lack of compassion and injustice that we witness on a daily basis, often in the Church of God. And I have only touched on two major issues in our society! As Christians and especially as Christian priests we are called to a life of love and compassionate service. If we are to serve the people of God then it is our life of prayer and contemplation that we need to be immersed in. Without a regular routine of prayer and the practise of a contemplative heart we can easily lose the vision of something greater than our prejudices and our sadness that accompanies it. We can easily lose our vision of Jesus and God’s kingdom.

    So, I want to turn our attention to the writings of Fr Richard Rohr, a Catholic priest in New Mexico and one of my spiritual mentors.

    He once wrote an article ‘Walk in Beauty’ in which he encourages us to recognize the beauty of the world despite its many disfigurations.  In his article he cites a prayer of the Navajo people in New Mexico from decades ago, which I particularly love. I mention it here as I want to suggest that we too need to be anchored to God in the midst of the huge challenges we face by ‘contemplating beauty’.

    In beauty I walk

    With beauty before me I walk

    With beauty behind me I walk

    With beauty above me I walk

    With beauty around me I walk

    It has become beauty again

    It has become beauty again

    It has become beauty again

    It has become beauty again

    There is much beauty in our towns, cities, villages and rural areas. There is much beauty in one another. We simply need to be more aware of the beauty of our surroundings and recognize it in the sounds around us, in drumming, in the voices of people, etc. as we open our hearts and minds to our surroundings. This is how we recognize the divine in all things.

    Michael Cassidy the great South African Evangelist in his book ‘The Politics of Love’ (p.253) cites Job who ‘in the depths of his problems and agonies began to question God and received back a shattering questionnaire from the God in whom all power resides’. The power we need to navigate the challenges of prophetic witness is found in God – cf Job 38:4, 8–11. It is only when we lose our life in and for Christ, that we will find it says Jesus in Matthew 16:25. So the ability to recognise the beauty around us in the midst of so many challenges and crises (not least in Covid-19) is found in the incredible life of Jesus who saw possibilities of healing and wholeness in broken human beings and in a broken and bruised world.  

    Quoting Fr Richard Rohr again:

    ‘’I invite you to return to the Navajo prayer above when you have the space and time to literally move or walk with it. If you’re able to walk, you might take off your shoes and walk barefoot. Move slowly, noticing the sensations in your body—discomfort, surprise, challenge, pleasure, ease. Take in your surroundings with a soft, receptive gaze. What do you see? Listen to whatever there is to hear—your own breathing, birds, traffic. You may choose to pay attention to one sense at a time or try to hold two simultaneously. Be present to what is. Walk or move in this way for several minutes or even half an hour. When you have ended, bow in gratitude for your body, for the beauty surrounding you, and for the beauty that will continue to follow you everywhere you go’’ – Adapted from Richard Rohr, an unpublished talk, February 2018, St. John XXIII Catholic Community, Albuquerque, New Mexico.

    This he says is a form of contemplation! I want to suggest, in the great tradition of our numerous contemplative spiritual writers, scholars, brothers and sisters of old that contemplating the beauty around us will keep us hopeful as fellow pilgrims who strive for the way of God’s Kingdom. For this is the way of Jesus.

  • One for All and All for One?

    by the Very Revd Dr David Ison, Dean of St Paul’s, member of General Synod and Vice-Chair of the Ozanne Foundation

    The words which bind together Alexander Dumas’ Three Musketeers are also the unofficial motto of Switzerland, and date back at least to Shakespeare. It might well be a Christian motto too, echoing Paul’s reference to Jesus’ cross and resurrection (‘one has died for all’, 2 Corinthians 5.14) and affirming our loyalty to him, and to one another as members of Christ’s body.

    But it’s not a motto which the Church is or has been good at living out. The COVID-19 pandemic, Extinction Rebellion, Black Lives Matter and Living in Love and Faith together open a window of opportunity – of necessity – for the Church to do things differently. We are offered the chance to live radically with difference. But will we take it?

    In his September 15th blog on Via Media, Charlie Bell highlighted the importance of ‘intersectionality’ and that the Church has largely ignored it. Most people, including many Christians, will be unaware of the word (I had to look it up!). But nearly all of us, whether Christian or not, are caught up in what it refers to. Formally, it means the interconnection of various forms of oppression. That’s often what people experience: for example, an older black trans working-class person living in poverty suffers in themselves the intersection of multiple discriminations and oppression.

    But as Charlie Bell noted, this also applies to struggles for justice. Solidarity together by those oppressed in different ways is a powerful response, affirming intersectionality. Think of Desmond Tutu’s ‘Rainbow Nation’ and the welcome given to gay people as well as people of all colours – though this isn’t a welcome affirmed by the whole Church. Which is why the Church is perceived as oppressive: because it divides people and makes different rules to apply to them. On ‘theological’ or ‘practical’ grounds we split up those who are discriminated against – by the Church and by others – into different categories. We encourage them to remain in their boxes as individual problems to be solved, rather than taking the risk of helping them come together to work for shared love and justice for all God’s people, of whatever age, sex, gender, race, (dis)ability, sexual orientation, marital status or belief.

    There’s nothing new in this. The New Testament offers the picture of a Church called to live in radical love and justice, preaching the gospel of God’s loving salvation for all equally, living together in mutual love; and at the same time the picture of a Church struggling to make this real in practice. Whether it’s the book of Acts describing Palestinian and Hellenist Jewish believers squabbling over money in Jerusalem, or tensions between Gentiles and Jews in the early churches; or Paul addressing disunity in Corinth and elsewhere; or John writing about God’s love while excluding others from that love – the Church has had to work hard, and often failed, to transcend the social divisions and prejudices of the world around it, and has too often aided and abetted oppression rather than brought justice and love.

    Ask black people about the churches’ role in profiting from slavery and its support for the injustices of the British Empire in the past, and their experiences of racism in churches in the present. Ask working-class people of any colour about how welcome they feel their ministry is to the church. Ask women, gay and trans people how they feel about churches continuing to exercise institutional discrimination against them. Ask the survivors of abuse in the churches how they have been treated by the systems meant to protect them.

    How do we do it differently and together: ‘One for all and all for one’? The Living in Love and Faith (LLF) process in the Church of England is an opportunity to work in an intersectional way, and open up the conversation to include people of disability, people of non-white colour and non-middle class background, women in ministry and those who don’t believe they should be there – and of course LGBTI+ people who have often felt marginalised and excluded. But that requires local churches to not only own and take part in the LLF process, but to use it to listen and respond positively to all who have experienced structural oppression in church life, and look at how to work for justice not only within the church but also in the structures of society.

    In a recent newspaper article the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London wrote of the need for local decision-making, with central authority doing only what it has to do. It was written against the background of disquiet about central Church of England guidance about responding to the coronavirus, to reaffirm the importance of parishes and local Christian communities in living out the Gospel of Christ locally in practical as well as spiritual ways. And if local churches don’t take seriously the issues of oppression and social justice, then whatever archbishops may say, the Church of England as a whole will continue to relinquish its role and mar its commendation of the Christian gospel to the nation.

    The point of being local, and maintaining thriving local churches, isn’t to perpetuate the existence of the church; it’s to transform people’s lives and the life of society – to do justice and love kindness and walk humbly with the Lord. Together. One for all and all for one.

  • Solidarity, Oppression and the Church of England

    by Dr Charlie Bell, Fellow in Medicine at Girton College Cambridge and ordinand at St Augustine’s College of Theology


    ‘But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream’ (Amos 5:24)

    Justice is a fundamental facet of the Christian life, and the past summer has once again brought injustice into the light of day. As Black Lives Matter protests spread across the globe, the Church of England did, indeed, make its voice heard – recognising not only the chronic injustice done by white people to black people for generations, including in our churches, but also calling for real change within society and within institutions. Whilst it is shameful that it took these protests to call too many white people to action, this is a narrative that neither will nor should go away, and one that is not optional for Christians to engage in. On the surface, then, it is quite right for our bishops and other leaders to highlight the BLM campaign – yet something doesn’t quite feel right.

    A key thing about Black Lives Matter, and many other organisations that stand up for the oppressed, is that they understand not only the role of structural oppression, but also the importance of intersectionality. These two concepts should sit at the heart of what we as Christians believe – the former well studied and lived out in liberation theologies, and the latter a key example of living the Christian life in solidarity with the poor and oppressed. Yet intersectionality barely gets a mention in church discourse, and likewise the Church of England routinely misrepresents structural oppression in its own dialogues.

    The Church, of course, is exempt from the Equality Act. Yet this very simple fact seems to be overlooked by many church leaders who constantly complain that nobody is taking them, or the church, seriously. Black Lives Matter is unashamedly pro-women, pro-queer, pro-disabled, pro-black. Organisations like it understand the reason that the protected characteristics in the Equality Act exist, and rather than pitting one group against another, recognise the complex interplay between them and the interconnectedness of privileged oppression.  The substantial moral strength of BLM as opposed to the Church is that there is no ‘but’ involved in their struggle for justice. Oppressed groups work together to liberate each other – it is a struggle together, not a struggle in opposition.

    This is where the Church of England falls very short indeed.  A good example of this would be the dialogue on LGBT inclusion. Countless times, when pushing for equality in the Church, I have been told ‘but Africa’ – a blithe, yet despicable remark, which suggests that Church hierarchs would delight to have more LGBT inclusion but can’t because it would upset ‘the communion’ (or sometimes, more crassly and revealingly, ‘the Africans’). Not only is this offensive and simplistic, but it is an insidious attempt to silence one oppressed group by reference to another. We might seriously reconsider the imperial origins and character of the Anglican Communion and review its effective working in the twenty-first century. We most certainly should not sanction a narrative of blaming black people for white laws imposed during imperial conquest (and encouraged to this day by white conservatives) and consequently point the finger of blame for LGBT exclusion at ‘Africans’, as though that is a homogenous group of people. Yet ‘but Africa’ is the go-to response by far too many bishops.  Putting it bluntly, black Africans should not be the bishops’ shields.

    Yet when church leaders promote Black Lives Matter, they either don’t bother to find out what they are supporting, or they are hypocritical. As Christians, we are called to stand up against oppression, not against some types of oppression. We are most certainly not called to oppress. When Church leaders spoke up against the Orlando killings in an LGBT nightclub, they appeared surprised when very few people bothered to listen, particularly within the LGBT community. That might just be because LGBT people don’t want pity – they want solidarity. A Church with an ambivalence on equality is not a church of solidarity.

    Similarly, the furore over the recent participation of  Church Society in the Church of England’s Sunday worship shows quite how deep the problem is. Much was made of how difficult it is for those of ‘conservative’ mindset to find their place in the church. Likewise, in a theological college discussion on equal marriage, we were told that ‘both sides’ needed a safe space – these ‘sides’ being LGBT people and those with a theological opposition to LGBT rights. This is absolute nonsense – these two are not equivalent! For someone to disagree with your theological position is, of course, difficult – but if you truly believe it, then you should be able to defend it. This is self-evidently not the same as being attacked for simply being who you are – for expressing love towards another individual of the same sex, being told that ‘pride comes before destruction’ and that those who merely support LGBT people are ‘surrendering Christianity in favour of a completely different gospel, which is divisive…and endangering to the soul’ (as the Director of Church Society stated). This is not theological disagreement – this is a direct attack, prejudice against and persecution of LGBT people. Not to see this is to show a wilful disregard for the reality of power dynamics.

    The scary reality is that victim-blaming forms a fundamental part of church dialogue, including ‘good disagreement’. In the facilitated conversations a few years ago, even mention of the word ‘homophobic’ to describe actual oppression was considered ‘hurtful’ – quite literally silencing the voice and experience of the oppressed. The word ‘painful’ has been grossly overused by those in positions of power when their theology is challenged, yet all the while, LGBT people are expected to just take their vilification as part of ‘theological discourse’. It smells of the same attitude that led the British state to pay compensation to slave owners and not slaves. It is the height of hypocrisy and the apogee of privilege used for repression.

    This is why the Church of England is structurally oppressive.

    Bishops and clergy who cannot see this do not need more air-time – they need education. Our theological colleges should be giving voice to the oppressed, not the oppressor – yet how many of our colleges take liberation theology, black theology or queer theology seriously? Our entire religion is based on solidarity with the people on the margins, yet our entire institution is prejudiced, structurally, against those who remain on these very margins.

    Those of us in oppressed groups need to model this solidarity. Those of us who have privilege need to acknowledge it. We must call out lazy and false thinking, and we must change. The secular world is leagues ahead of us already, once again. Until we recognise our institutional prejudice, we would do better not to bother with the warm words, thoughts and prayers far too easily sprinkled.

    Acts of omission of solidarity are acts nonetheless – and until our actions reflect out words, we will remain a church all too silent in mission, silent in ministry and silent in letting the oppressed go free.

  • #BlackLivesMatter: Protest & Prayer

    by the Very Revd Rogers Govender, Dean of Manchester

    Rogers Govender

    This was a reflection shared by the Dean of Manchester at the Protest and Prayer event organised for the Diocese of Manchester

    I want to begin by reminding us that we need to be very aware, very conscious that these issues are very painful experiences for the black community.

    Prayer meetings in the context of protests can sometimes seem a little dubious. It is very important that we pray – we should pray for the victims; we should pray for all those in the black BAME community struggling with racism in our society, in our world.

    However, if you – like me – have your origins in Africa, you’ll know that we have a saying that goes something like this:

    “When the white settlers came to Africa, they had the Bible and we had the land… they said ‘let us close our eyes to pray’ and we prayed… and when we opened our eyes, we had the Bible and they had the land”

    And that is the truth of so much of our African experience of colonialism.

    I have a little photograph which I keep on my telephone.  It’s from the city of Durban where I come from and it reads: “The city of Durban, under section 37 of the Durban Beach Bye-laws, this bathing area is reserved for the sole use of members of the white race group.”  It’s a very sharp reminder, to me again, and to all of us, of the legislated discrimination and racism that so many have lived with, and I certainly have lived with.

    This form of legislated discrimination continued right up until 1994 when freedom came to us black South Africans after Nelson Mandela was released from prison after 27 years incarceration. So, keep in mind that as we pray we are reflecting on very painful realities today, and our praying must not attempt to mask that, and that we are also being reminded of historic racism that exists in the world and that continues in our minds today.

    Let me continue by reflecting on what’s going on right now…

    George Floyd

    The senseless killing of George Floyd in Minnesota USA has rightly caused deep anger  in that country and indeed in much of the world. I was absolutely horrified and outraged when I saw the video of George pleading for the chance to breathe as the officer had his knee on his neck and his hands in his pockets looking smug and powerful while George was literally dying on the street.  When bystanders protested and asked that this be stopped they were prevented by the other officers who stood by. I have to confess that I have not in a long time seen such awful cruelty in public; it will be a picture forever etched in my mind.

    Floyd’s killing has become the image that reflects the pain and distress that black people suffer on a daily basis in the United States and around the world. It brings to mind for me the pain and struggle for equality, respect and inclusion in virtually every sphere of life. The United Kingdom and the USA may have ended legislation regarding racism and discrimination as far as I know, as we did in South Africa, but BAME folk still experience it on a daily basis.

    Racism in the Church

    Ask any person of colour even in a liberal city like Manchester and they will tell you that it is difficult to find equal opportunities, and that we have to work doubly hard to get into senior jobs and positions of leadership. In the Church of England too this is very common, and I shall say something about that in a short while. Part of the challenge of racism and discrimination that we as BAME people experience, also hinges on the fact that we have experienced so much discrimination in the past that we have tended to internalise our oppression. So, we often do not apply for senior jobs because we know we won’t get it.

    There is a serious notion amongst many of us in the BAME community who believe that in the church white bishops already know who they want in senior vacancies and it is generally not a black or BAME candidate. The fact that BAME deaths to the coronavirus is higher in the BAME community says a lot. Even the government is reluctant to discuss this at the moment citing research that is ongoing around this subject.  The issues of poor health, diet, poor opportunities, high levels of poverty etc are reasons that add to these increased numbers of deaths in the BAME community. This has since been highlighted again with the issues of poverty in Leicester where a further period of lockdown and isolation has been put in place.

    I have done numerous interviews and radio broadcasts and postings on social media over the last two weeks at least on racism. And I have to say George Floyd’s death has made my blood boil because he brought back all the painful memories of my time when I lived in my native South Africa throughout all those apartheid years. As a young student I came to understand and then experienced the pain of discrimination and the violence that was used by the white minority government in South Africa to enforce racism. As an ordinand in training and later as a priest I witnessed overt blatant racism in my country where the lives of black folk were treated with a disdain, disrespect and even hate as they were treated worse than dirt. I have seen the abject poverty, lack of state provision in education, housing, job reservations, and the like, experienced by the black citizens of our country. I was not surprised when the Soweto uprising took place in 1976 and engulfed the country. Rather sadly it was the counter violence of the African National Congress to the violence of government that eventually brought the white minority government to the negotiating table. Moreover, economic sanctions that was encouraged by Archbishop Desmond Tutu brought the government to its knees. I am a supporter of on non-violent direct action to oppose racism and discrimination. That was the reality that I grew up in and George Floyd’s death has brought all of that once again to the surface in a very painful and stark way.

    The Cries of BAME Clergy

    Over these past 20 years that I’ve lived in England, I’ve heard the cries and pleas of many BAME clergy and laity in the Church of England who have experienced discrimination and exclusion because of the colour of their skin or their cultural backgrounds. I’ve listened to BAME clergy tell me that they are only offered junior positions as assistant curates and are rarely offered incumbencies in local parishes. I’ve heard the complaints of BAME clergy who say they were never considered for senior posts because they were deemed unsuitable culturally or even racially; you’ve seen some of that on social media in the last week or two.

    I have a very good friend who is a priest formerly from South Africa now living in the United States; keeping in mind that we’re talking about apartheid South Africa, he once wrote to a local newspaper in South Africa suggesting that perhaps the Holy Spirit was racist, which is why the leading of the Holy Spirit seemed not to lead to the appointment of black clergy to so called white parishes or to senior posts; he was severely reprimanded for that, however, I think it did seem to suggest a very moot point.

    Personal Experience in the Church of England

    At the February 2020 sessions of General Synod I shared a personal story of how a retired Bishop told me not to put my name forward for a diocesan bishop post because he said that that diocese did not, to quote his words, ‘’did not have lots of BAME people…’’ so I speak  from personal experience. I can tell you numerous experiences of being a parish priest and being mistaken for the local gardener or cleaner, especially when I was without my dog collar. This is not to disparage in any way the work of cleaners or gardeners! Its just the notion that a black person could not possibly be the vicar of the parish!

    I have so much more to say to you about the experiences of BAME people in this country, never mind the United States and South Africa.  Many of you who are on this zoom call or on Facebook perhaps have had similar experiences where you have been overlooked for positions of leadership or seniority in the church or in society.

    Speaking up against racism

    There is also a conversation that I had with a white friend, who now lives overseas –  who complained that I was pushing the racism issue very strongly over these last few weeks on social media; this is this is what he said to me, and this is what we often face as BAME clergy and laity; he said: ‘’Rogers you seem to be pushing the race issue a lot recently on Facebook, which is not the Rogers I remember from South Africa…you were always a rational unbiased person I admired but you don’t seem to be like that these days’’.  My response to him was as follows: we have a major racism problem; I chair a national committee that deals with this for the church; it is my responsibility to challenge racism today as I did in South Africa; it is a shame that this makes you uncomfortable; if you experience some of the things that I and my black colleagues do then you too would feel as passionate about it as I do… and that is the kind of typical things that we hear from many of our white colleagues and in my case friends. And this chap and his family are regular Anglican worshippers. I have since asked him to block me on social media if he didn’t like my posts. He has now blocked me!

    I believe that there ought to be a radical shift in our thinking about people of colour. This includes colour prejudice in places like India where dark-skinned people are regarded as less important and inferior.  We need to teach the history of slavery, racism and discrimination in our schools and in our universities; as priests and theologians we need to include African and BAME history in our theological colleges and universities.

    Addressing Racism in Sermons

    We must not be shy to speak about racism in our sermons. I once preached about this in my parish sermon and later that week a white member of my congregations shared with me that she suffered terrible racism from fellow white people in her community for going out with a black man in the 1960’s. Racist and vile language was regularly used towards her. She did marry her black Beau and they both have wonderful children and grandchildren. I had the joy of ministering to this mixed race family! However, she suffered terribly and never spoke about her pain for decades, until I preached about it. Suddenly she felt that she had ‘permission’ to speak about this terrible time in her life.

    Solidarity to Action

    We need to see change and we need to move from statements of solidarity to action.  And I’m very grateful to Bishop David Walker (Manchester) for his stance on inclusion in our diocese.  He’s always seeking to ensure that diversity is visible in our public events and services.  It makes a huge difference because this models a different way to be and to serve our community. I plead, let us not wait for the next murder of another black person for us to get our act together to provide leadership and an alternate vision of inclusion for all people and especially of black people in our very divided world that is crying out for respect, equality and justice.

    A Prayer by Desmond Tutu

    Let me end with a short prayer offered by Archbishop Desmond Tutu:

    ‘’Goodness is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate; light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death. Victory is ours, victory is ours through God who loves us. Victory is ours, victory is ours through God who loves us’’.

    God bless you as you pick up the fight for equality; for an end to racism in our society and in the Church of England. Thank you very much for listening to me.

     

  • We Can’t Go Back…to Ignoring Those We Do Not See

    by the Rt Revd Ruth Worsley, Bishop of Taunton

    Ruth

    ‘You don’t belong here’ were the words spoken to me on my first Sunday evening as curate.  I must say I felt quite affronted, I was nervous enough.  It had been quite a journey for me to take to ordination.  Brought up within a very conservative non-conformist Christian tradition where I had no role models of women in leadership, I had undertaken much soul-searching and wide-ranging debate to get to this point.

    Over the 12 years I spent in that parish, I discovered however what was behind those words.  This was a multi-cultural community with white working-class, living alongside changing, mobile and growing immigrant groups.  It was dynamic, colourful and constantly challenging for a new curate like me and I loved it.

    Unlike most of the diocesan congregations ours was richly diverse.   However the leadership was not.  Those of us in leadership put that down to the lack of confidence of our congregational members but it became clear during my ministry there that we had been using that as an excuse for some time.  ‘Empowering the laity’ didn’t just mean offering them opportunities to develop but also making space for them.  So we set about making some fundamental changes to increase the visibility of those we had overlooked.  Long-term middle-class white members of our PCC stepped down to make room for others drawn from our growing black and Asian congregation.

    One of the small but significant things we did was to make all our PCC members chalice assistants.  A tiny structural change but it meant that immediately we had 6 BAME members up front and visible to the wider congregation.  And what we found was that not only did they become visible but we also brought children and young people to the fore with the 2 16 year olds who were serving a year on the PCC.  Suddenly more of us could see ourselves mirrored in those participating in visible roles.  And it grew confidence, folk could begin to see they had something to contribute.

    That 20-year old memory has come to mind again for me in sharp relief as I’ve reflected on this period of lockdown.  Who are those who have remained invisible to me over those years and yet now I am beginning to see once more?

    In the early weeks of lockdown, my colleague +Peter met a woman in her wheelchair along his walk.  She told him that she had not been able to access church for 4 years or more and yet that week she had been 4 or 5 times.  How?  Through the digital possibilities of the internet allowing her the freedom to enter into worship and not finding her physical constraints to be an issue.  We cannot go back to ignoring those we cannot see!

    Last night I visited a local residential care home to thank the carers who have given selflessly during this time of anxiety and fear.  They have gone the extra mile to keep our seniors safe and yet often have come second when it comes to PPE, personal pay and conditions, and in feeling society’s appreciation.  We were told our visit made them feel valued as they had felt excluded from the clap for carers with the spotlight being on the NHS.  Izzy also told us how important the weekly local church’s YouTube service had become to their residents.  In the past the church had taken the occasional service in the home, but now residents were able to feel part of the regular congregation.  We promised that we would seek to continue these acts of worship.  We cannot go back to ignoring those we cannot see!

    Social care has been underfunded for many years and we have known that.  The Dilnot Commission, set up 10 years ago, proposed a range of ways in which we could provide affordable but appropriately financed care into later age.  Some of our carers still remain on pay that does not constitute a living wage.  The media attention which has shown how care homes have borne such a terrible cost in loss of life due to them taking second place, has caused us to sit up and take note.  If we truly appreciate the contribution such carers make to our society then we must join in bringing about change to the political systems which govern such care.  We cannot go back to ignoring those we cannot see!

    And there are so many more whom we have overlooked both in the Church and wider society in terms of either our unconscious bias or our unwillingness to choose to see them.  Whether it is fear of difference or the comfort of homogeneity, we have narrowed our vision and lost sight of the broader horizon over the years.

    I say ‘we’ but let’s own it…’I’. ‘me’!  Early passions in ministry which sought to speak out for the most disadvantaged have settled into a pattern of balancing out the needs of all and thus diminishing the injustices of those whom I fail to see.  The cause of those of a different ethnicity or sexuality, the concerns of those with mental or physical health needs, the case for the eldest or youngest in our society has often remained unrecognised.

    But there are signs of hope.

    The fear of pandemic has led to society re-evaluating what is important in life, our values, our purpose and those we love.  ‘Key work’ is no longer focused on the financial markets as we have seen the economy tumble but rather on those who offer us a service of care.  The more vulnerable in our communities have experienced an outpouring of generosity from neighbours and volunteers as they have become a focus of attention rather than remaining hidden and unseen behind closed doors.  We cannot go back…

    As I write this I’m reminded of the vignette of the child being brought into the company of Jesus by a parent.  The disciples tried to muscle them out of the way, an unimportant intrusion, not worthy of notice.  Jesus’ response was to draw the child into the centre as the focus of attention.  His challenge to the disciples was not only to see but to become like children themselves.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • #BlackLivesMatter: Living Between Malcolm X and Uncle Tom

    by Augustine Tanner-Ihm is an African-American ordinand at Cranmer Hall, St. John’s College, Durham.

    Augustine

    “You are angry, aggressive and people are afraid of you.”

    This statement is far too often used as a description or evaluation made by the White majority culture to Black and Brown people. And unsurprisingly this has been a repeated statement throughout my own time going through discernment, theological education and beyond. Cultural misunderstandings are rampant among this so-called multi-culturally diverse country. When this has been discussed leaders have frequently told Black and Brown people to “go away and reflect on this evaluation”. Which is privilege code for “receive the statement, change, and do not bring it up again!” Often what Black ears actually hear is “Yes Massa”[1]. The impact however is that we constantly find our personhood silenced and that we are forced to assimilate the White majority culture.

    It is not surprising that many Black men and women have become afraid to show their emotions out of the fear of being misunderstood or worst being label as a “problem”. These metaperceptions grip the hearts and minds of our BAME communities. Especially those who desire to pursue a religious vocation.

    In the last few weeks, I have been shocked and surprised by current national and international events. I have not been shocked or surprised by a country with a (lets-be-honest) ‘police state’ continually murdering unarmed Black and Brown bodies. But what I have been surprised about is the fact that it has taken this long for the White Church to believe and stand in solidarity with BAME Communities. I think what surprised me most is how many Anglican deacons, priest and bishops were more outraged by Dominic Cummings’ movements than BAME bodies dying! This has shocked me!

    Malcolm X was an American Civil Rights Leader, who took a very different route to equality than the pacifist preacher Martin Luther King Jr. He embodies black trauma and anger against the oppression by a culture which has turned turns a blind eye to systematic genocide. But the White community was afraid of him and wanted him dead for his public condemnation of the evils of Whiteness. This rage can still be found in many Black and Brown people in the UK, US, and the Rest of the World.

    But so many people are not open or even interested in listening to their trauma.

    This has filled my heart and mind with an unsettling rage, silence, anger, and contemplation. I want to be outraged. I want to be allowed to feel as upset as my Conservative Evangelical Anglicans are with a more progressive reading of Christian scripture, or as my egalitarian friends are regarding the Five-Guiding Principles or as my Anglo-Catholic friends are when the beauty of the sacraments is not being celebrated. But in the Church, the Church of England, I am required to lose my cultural identity and become an “Uncle Tom” in order to please my episcopal leaders. This strips me of my grief and my ability to express my pain. The pain that I and others feel is often covered with naïve misunderstandings – instead of listening, real listening.

    The Church has a history of open apologies, that only goes to satisfy its White guilt yet accomplishes absolutely nothing. In the Gospel of Matthew, we see Jesus become angry before flipping over the tables of money changers in the Temple. Jesus becomes angry at the exploitation of the Holy Temple. Therefore, if we are supposed to be the hands and feet of Jesus, as St. Paul said, why are we are not “flipping over the tables of injustice? Is it because the Church does not value Black and Brown bodies? The Church apologized for the Codrington Plantations in the West Indies, where the it financially benefited from the selling of the Black bodies. But this apology was empty. If the apology were genuine it would have followed a gospel understanding of repentance and reconciliation. When Jesus approached Zacchaeus, the tax collector was so amazed that he restored all the people he wronged fourfold. It is a beautiful picture of Kingdom reconciliation.

    Does the Church of England believe in biblical repentance or mere cheap theological “corporate grace”?

    The only martyr of the Episcopal Church in the USA is Jonathan Daniels. He was a seminarian who died by gunshot – fighting for the lives of his Black brothers and sisters in the American South. He gives us Anglicans a modern example of what it looks like to truly love your neighbour. It may sound radical, but so is the Gospel of Jesus Christ! We are called to this radical living. This is the way of love.

    Like James Baldwin, the American Writer said:

    “We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of humanity and right to exist.”

    Therefore let us pray together this Collect of Social Justice:

    “Teach us, Liberator of Your Faithful, to take the side of the oppressed, as you did. Point us to the example of Moses, of your prophets, of Christ, who with boldness and truth proclaimed that the lives of the exploited matter. Give us the courage to live repentant lives like Zacchaeus, who practised restoration, as he became face to face with the King”[2].

    Amen

    Augustine Tanner-Ihm is an Afro-American ordinand at Cranmer Hall, Durham.

    [1] A term used by Black slaves when addressing their White master

    [2} The Book of Uncommon Prayer| Evangelicals for Social Action by Kenji Kuramitsu