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  • A Response to “The Doctrine of Marriage and the Prayers of Love and Faith: Texts and Contexts: a Report of the Faith and Order Commission” (GS Misc 1430)

    Fr Thomas Sharp is a priest theologian based in the South East of England and is also Provincial Secretary of the Society of Catholic Priests

    This was the second report which briefed the House of Bishops before they made their decisions in October about Living in Love and Faith (LLF). This is another extraordinary document, with which I imagine many of the members of the Faith and Order Commission will not have been entirely content. At least, I hope they would not be.

    Its purpose is to determine ‘whether and how the Church’s public use of these prayers coheres with, realises new boundaries for, or departs from its established teaching on marriage’ (§1). It does not do this, as we shall see. But it does present a case, or perhaps more accurately talk around the assumption, that the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF) (let alone equal marriage) would constitute a departure from the traditional doctrine of marriage. It does this around four general themes:

    1. public perception and theological significance of the PLF;
    2. ecclesial condoning of “life choices”;
    3. disagreement and liturgical diversity;
    4. the Church’s traditional teaching on marriage.

    1) Public Perception and Theological Significance

    The primary concern is not theological. It is about what we are seen to do. In §5 a distinction is established, between private prayers and public prayers, which is ‘not merely practical but theologically significant’. What is meant by this is that private prayers are less likely to be misinterpreted as condoning or blessing something which we actually think is bad and do not think should be blessed or condoned. Whereas, ‘In the setting of public worship, it is impossible to escape the reality that the use of the PLF is liable to be received, however unintentionally, as ecclesial endorsement of the relationship being blessed’ (§14, cf.§24). The primary problem is public perception, that people should misunderstand us and think we are blessing and approve of queer people, when in fact we are not and do not. This is not in fact a theological consideration, but a practical one of public perception.

    The argument gets stranger. A distinction is drawn between regular services and occasional ones. ‘Regular services,’ we are told, ‘carry a high presumption of normativity and significance.’ Yet ‘Bespoke services,… by their out-of-the-ordinary nature will also suggest a high level of normativity’ (§15). So it is hard to see what distinction is being drawn here.

    The essential point of the first section of the Report is that, whatever liturgical provision is offered for same-sex couples, it will be interpreted as a marriage by people at those services and by the Anglican Communion and wider society (§§26,28). Although ‘Many would maintain that audience perception does not in itself determine doctrine’ (§32), ‘The weight of audience reception, then, may tip the balance from pastoral care into apparent [doctrinal] contradiction’ (§30). And we are reminded twice that ‘lex orandi, lex credendi’ (§§29,34). In other words, liturgy should mean what we say it does, but it doesn’t, and in fact it does mean what people attending the liturgy or talking about it on ‘social media responses or press headlines’ think it does (§32). This argument is repeated in §§66-68 in the context of a discussion of the importance of published liturgy.

    There is much concern also in §27 about the clergy and lay leaders who will be affected by the ‘symbolic resonance and precedent of a prominent public LLF service’. It is not made clear what that means. It is a strangely evasive paragraph. Presumably a gay bishop and their partner using the prayers. But, of course, that would never happen, would it.

    2) Ecclesial Condoning of “Life Choices”

    After concerns about whether we might be seen to be blessing same-sex relationships, next is the question of whether the Church is condoning same-sex couples and their ‘life choice/s’. This overtly homophobic phrase of long standing is used at both §11 and §14.  We are told that there is agreement ‘that God’s blessing may be prayed for over persons and intentions without necessarily affirming all aspects of a relationship or life choice’ (§11). It is apparently entirely possible to bless a same-sex couple without blessing in any way any part of their life together. If this seems strange, we are reassured that, ‘The Church has long provided public prayers in circumstances of moral or pastoral ambiguity’ (§19). Here, you might be forgiven for thinking that a door was maybe being opened to permitting a liturgy which also allowed for moral ambiguity (however much it feels unreal to suggest that this aspect of my life and identity might be any more morally ambiguous than a straight person’s). But that door is rapidly slammed shut.

    The Report gives short paragraphs to deal with the supposed arguments of unidentified and unreferenced ‘supporters of the PLF’ in a way which suggests that they/we may not have been in the room at the time. These supporters ‘point to analogous liturgical acts which mark without enacting and bless without endorsing every moral dimension of the context’, like civic services and memorials (§33). If we bless at civic services and memorials without being seen to condone every aspect of what we are blessing, can we do the same here? Computer says no. ‘In these contexts, there are some fairly set cultural expectations within which the Church can navigate at such commemorative events’ (§33). Apparently, we are meant to understand that that could not possibly also be true for using the PLF, although that is not worked out for us. Indeed, so prone to confusion with marriage must the PLF be that clear differentiation from marriage would require ‘clarity of liturgical differentiation’ and ‘the willingness of Church leaders to undertake sustained theological communication’ (§35). Now, I enjoy a public lecture as much as the next theologian, but even I think that would be overkill before a church service.

    Apparently, just telling people that it isn’t a legal wedding, as clergy I know have done who have used PLF so far, would still leave everyone confused. I am unconvinced. LGBTQIA+ people know that the Church is ambivalent towards us, and if we don’t know anything we assume that the Church is actively hostile. But these arguments are rehearsed again in §§81-83 and §86, just to make sure you heard them if you happened to be reading quickly before a meeting. The “theological question” is then summed up in terms which appear entirely out of the blue, unconnected as they are to the argument in the rest of the Report:

    Theologically, the question posed by the public use of the PLF is not primarily about whether God’s grace is available to all. It is about how the Church responds lovingly to the hope of those who come before God and desire to show forth their praise in thanksgiving for what God has given them. (§88)

    Is it? It hasn’t felt like that’s the theological question in this theological briefing. There’s nothing about the hope of those who come before God to give thanks to God. Perhaps they left that bit out. And if we are morally ambiguous and not-to-be-condoned then it is hard in any case to see what there is to give thanks for to God in Church. Our evil ways? What a strange thing to say.

    3) Disagreement and Liturgical Diversity

    The Report deals in some depth with how liturgical diversity has been handled in the Church of England in the past. The liturgical text is not a ‘narrow prescription’ but rather ‘a framework capable of bearing diverse theological interpretations’ (§42). This is presented as maybe a good thing, though in that section on how the public received liturgy it seemed to be a bad thing. There is a delightfully idealistic statement that Canons A5 and B5 ‘protect the liturgy from becoming an instrument of theological partisanship and ensure its function as a shared act of worship grounded in common faith’ (§43). Perhaps the authors are wilfully unaware of the many parishes and network churches in the Church of England which never or almost never use authorised liturgy, even if technically they perhaps do something which could be defended as a Service of the Word. The Catholicisation of the liturgy in Common Worship has not been accepted throughout the Church of England, and A5 and B5 have not ensured liturgical unity. Why would we expect them to now? Comments commending the ‘structured plurality’ of ‘theological sensibilities and liturgical styles’ in the deployment of different Eucharistic prayers (§45) and reminding us that prayers are not ‘neutral containers into which new meanings may simply be poured’ (§47) do not accord with the reality of the breadth of theological positions on the eucharist which are now accommodated by Common Worship’s diversity of prayers (if Common Worship or the Book of Common Prayer are used at all in a parish or network church).

    There is then a rather confusing but impressive argument about the Ritual Controversy and the tension between ‘prescription, rubric, and enactment’ (§§50-57). It seems to be strongly implied that, unlike other times when there have been debates and movements for change, we are somehow walking into this without proper discernment. But if the gruelling process of LLF which has lasted for the entirety of my training and ordained ministry was not discernment, I don’t know what discernment would look like.

    Suddenly the Report raises the tone, almost comically, warning us:

    Episcopal guidance becomes critical: without clear episcopal teaching and supervision, the national coherence of liturgical practice – and the doctrinal witness it sustains – may be compromised. (§60)

    It is precisely in the act of translating these prayers into public worship that the theological and doctrinal stakes become most acute. (§85)

    I think that we are intended to hear the warning that the national coherence of liturgical practice may be compromised with the same concern as a warning that the hull of our submarine might be compromised. However, this is not how it lands. It is hard to get upset about the stable door needing shutting when the horse is galloping gaily away over the horizon.

    And the Report is quite direct that this is in fact the reality:

    The Church’s embrace of liturgical diversity has hitherto been sustained by theological agreement on the central matters of faith. Where disagreement has existed – on baptism, the Eucharist, or the nature of ordination – it has generally been held within a framework of authorised texts and common structures. (§63)

    This is an extraordinary admission, given the picture presented that the PLF risked tearing up a unified doctrinal-liturgical fabric. In fact, on minor and unimportant issues, not at all central in any way, like baptism, the Eucharist or Holy Orders, we already disagree. And that is apparently fine. However, we are reminded, lest again a door towards living with disagreement be opened to us, that:

    If liturgical practice is allowed to diverge from doctrinal principle, then the Church’s claim to be a confessing body – one that worships according to what it believes may be placed in jeopardy. (§64)

    Jeopardy. Well, as much as I would like everyone to be of one mind, the Report has already said that disagreement and divergence has happened over central issues, and the Church is still one body with one head, however many times we have disagreed, done different things, or even gone our separate ways. This just reads strangely, along with the warning that suddenly liturgical difference is something about which we should now be terrified into inaction, now that LGBTQIA+ people are involved. This aspect of the report reads like an attempt to create panic where no panic is necessary. Or, if it was necessary, it was probably necessary over the past 40 years, when our present liturgical divergence was taking root.

    (4) The Church’s Traditional Teaching on Marriage

    Do you remember that the purpose of this Report was meant to be to work out whether the PLF departed from the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage? You could be forgiven for having forgotten, having worked through all of this. The so-called “traditional doctrine of marriage” is first stated at §38, though this is only to establish how much this conflicts with the PLF which ‘suggests at least a degree of ecclesial affirmation of the relationship’ (§37). That the authors believe that the PLF constitute a departure from the “traditional doctrine of marriage” is not explored, only the implications of this finding.

    The unchallenged assumption that the unchanging doctrine of marriage in the Church of England is and has always been that it be between one man and one woman for life runs throughout the Report. At §22 and in footnote 9, a reference is made to GS Misc 1407, which was the Episcopal Reference Group’s paper on marriage and its accompanying compendium of sources. The compendium is interesting in that it gives a useful overview of the ways in which the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage and human sexuality has changed a lot, even as the Church has professed not to change our teaching or doctrine, only our pastoral practice. This change is now normal.

    We do not actually believe (as a Church) that marriage is between one man and one woman, or if we do we certainly have not believed that unchangingly or traditionally. The Lambeth Conferences of 1888 and 1988 came to exactly opposing conclusions about polygamy. We also do not actually believe (as a Church) that marriage is for life, given that remarriage of divorcees is now routine in the Church of England, and not reserved to the ‘exceptional circumstances’ envisaged by Marriage in the Church After Divorce (2003). It now seems only in really exceptional circumstances that marriage of heterosexual couples after divorce is ever denied.

    I certainly have never heard of public penance being done by heterosexual divorcees to make clear that the Church does not condone their remarriage before their service of thanksgiving. But the Report uses divorce as an example of another ‘morally ambiguous’ situation which the church does not bless (§19). It is made clear in the liturgy, apparently, that what is offered to divorcees is not a blessing. But I have never known that service to be referred to in any terms other than as a ‘wedding blessing’.

    Conclusion

    This Report is frustrating, and disturbing. It presents the PLF as something of a worst-case scenario, with the potential to detonate the hitherto integral liturgical unity of the Church of England. However, it is not balanced. It is not theologically consistent. And its arguments are at times obfuscatory and self-referential. It does not evaluate whether the PLF are consistent with the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage(s). But it does make it appear as fait accompli that the PLF are inconsistent in a way that suggests that the House of Bishops has no freedom to exercise their episcopal prerogative to authorise them. As such, this was a confusing and at times needlessly offensive Report to read.

  • Where Does the House of Bishops Currently Stand on the Use of Prayers of Love and Faith? Some Reflections

    by Peter Collier KC, retired Senior Circuit Judge and former Vicar-General of the Province of York

     

    On 15 November 2023, General Synod passed a motion on Living in Love and Faith which acknowledged that we are in a period of uncertainty but, among other requests, asked “the House to consider whether some standalone services for same-sex couples could be made available for use, possibly on a trial basis, on the timescale envisaged by the motion passed by the Synod in February 2023”.

    Such a trial period would result in an expectation that if, at the end of it, there was a wish to continue the use of the Prayers, then that would be put through a Canon B2 process.

    After much longer than people had hoped for, the House of Bishops has now reached a provisional decision, which they anticipate confirming in December. That decision is that, following advice from the Church of England’s Legal Office and from the Faith and Order Commission (FAOC), such services – now described as ‘bespoke services’ – “would require maximum communal authorisation through the Canon B2 process of approval”.

    The recent legal advice (dated September 2025) which has now been published does not differ materially from what previous documents told us was the essence of the legal advice received on earlier dates. Annex F to GS 2328 had said that authorisation through Canon B2 would provide an automatic defence to any legal case brought against clergy for using the prayers. The advice at that time was that, provided the House, exercising its legally and theologically informed judgement, formed the view that the proposed prayers and other material met the requirements as to doctrine that are set out in Canon B5, then they could properly be commended. That was and presumably still is the case, as the use of the prayers in regularly scheduled services remains commended for use under Canon B5.

    The role of context

    What is of course new is the advice from FAOC. In short, it addresses the issue of the extent to which context and symbolic action communicate what the church believes. FAOC says that when used publicly, and especially when used in bespoke or occasional services, the Prayers may be seen to communicate an ecclesial endorsement of a couple’s relationship as a whole, including its sexual dimension. It says, some would say argues(!), that in public rituals meaning is read as much from what is seen as from what is said. Also, that actions, gestures, and vesture generate strong signals for a variety of audiences looking on. It says that, while explanatory prefaces may help, people will remember the enactment more than the caveat. In conclusion, FAOC suggest that symbolic actions, such as an exchange of rings, will communicate more than the church’s doctrine of marriage will allow.

    Notwithstanding that all of that also applies to such symbolic activity in regularly scheduled services – which are to be allowed to continue – the House has provisionally concluded that performance of the same symbolic activity in a standalone service should not take place until authorised by Synod through a B2 process.

    The Church of England and civil weddings

    Of course this is not the first time that the Church of England has addressed questions around marriage services. In 1836, the Marriage Act challenged the practice of all weddings being conducted only through the Church of England, and introduced what we now call ‘civil weddings’. Weddings conducted in registered buildings other than churches, in the presence of a registrar and two witnesses, were lawful. This was the first time that Parliament provided for people to marry other than through the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England.

    The Church was not happy and, in the debate on the bill in the House of Lords, the then-Bishop of Exeter, Henry Phillpotts, said that it was “a disgrace to British legislation. [It] is pretended to be called for to prevent clandestine marriages, but I think it will greatly facilitate such proceedings. Not solemnized by the church of England, may be celebrated without entering into a consecrated building, may be contracted by anybody, and will be equally valid, whether it takes place in the house of God, or in the house of a registering clerk, one of the lowest functionaries of the state. The parties may take one another for better and for worse, without calling God to witness their plighted troth. No blessing sought; no solemn vows of mutual fidelity; no religious solemnity whatever …”. Clearly in his mind this fell far short of ‘Holy Matrimony’ as per the Book of Common Prayer.

    Various other developments culminated with the use of a religious service in a register office being prohibited by s.12 of the Marriage and Registration Act 1856. So, more by accident than design, we reached the place where there was a very clear distinction between religious and secular marriages.

    Divorce and marriage

    However, a much more fundamental issue arising from the different views about marriage held by state and church was that of remarriage after divorce. In 1857, control over divorce passed from the church courts – which had exercised complete control over marriage and divorce since the Middle Ages – to the newly-created Court for Divorce and Matrimonial Causes. Until then, divorce was rare and expensive, requiring in almost all cases an Act of Parliament to bring it about. The grant of divorces by the courts was slowly liberalised over the years, culminating in 1969 with the “irretrievable breakdown of a marriage” being the sole ground for divorce.

    Throughout this period, the Church of England remained adamant that marriage was for life and that any remarriage during the former partner’s lifetime amounted to adultery. In 1957, the church not only banned the use of the “solemnisation of holy matrimony” for the remarriage of divorcees but also barred the provision of any public service to mark a couple’s civil marriage when one of them was divorced.

    Some clergy, notwithstanding that official position, did hold private services of prayer and dedication for such couples either in their home or, sometimes, in a church. The Lichfield Report (1978) reviewed the position, along with the pros and cons of holding a service of prayer and dedication for those who had gone through such further marriages. However, it concluded that there was a risk of confusion between such a service and a marriage service. It argued that, whatever explanations were given, it was likely that some taking part would be unaware of the distinction, particularly if the traditional ceremonial elements such as a bride wearing white, the ringing of bells and the like “would convey a powerful misleading message which the words of the service would be unable to correct”. That argument will sound very familiar to anyone who has read the recent FAOC advice.

    However, within three years of the Lichfield Report being issued, in July 1981, Synod voted overwhelmingly for a motion that “there are circumstances in which a divorced person may be married in church during the lifetime of a former spouse”. But what were those circumstances? Such was the division on this issue across the country, that it was very difficult to find a way forward. At the root of the disagreement was the question as to whether this was a matter touching on the doctrine of marriage. That question remained unresolved when, in 1985, the then House of Bishops commended under Canon B4 a ‘Service of Prayer and Dedication After A Civil Marriage’.  This remains a commended service and is still in use today, particularly by some clergy who feel in all conscience that they are unable to agree to a remarriage in church according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England.

    The Church of England and the Civil Partnership Act

    The next occasion when changes in the civil law led to the Church having to address matters that touched on its understanding of marriage was when the Civil Partnership Act 2004 came into force. How should the Church respond when those who had entered into a Civil Partnership asked for prayers or for a blessing on their new status?

    On the 25 July 2005 the House of Bishops provided a Pastoral Statement on Civil Partnerships that said that clergy should not provide a service of blessing for those who have entered into a civil partnership but, if approached by people, they should “respond pastorally and sensitively in the light of the circumstances of each case”.

    Nigel Seed KC, then the Chancellor of the Diocese of London, prepared an advice in 2008 for the clergy of that diocese about what to do if asked to conduct services of blessing for those in civil partnerships. Having considered parallels with the ‘Service of Prayer and Dedication After A Civil Marriage’, and noting that “interestingly for a service that is not ‘a service of blessing’, it does include a blessing of the two individuals, but not of their union”, he concludes by saying:

    Thus the position is clear. Unless and until one of the relevant authorities listed in Canon B5.2 provides a form of service, beneficed clergy (or other clergy authorised by them) may use a form of service they consider suitable in respect of a civil partnership providing that service does not amount to a ‘service of blessing’ and is reverent and seemly and is not contrary to, nor indicative of any departure from, the doctrine of the Church of England in any essential matter.

    It would seem to be commonplace that such services are now in regular use across the country.

    Pastoral responses to same- sex marriage

    So where does all that leave us now that we are facing another challenge presented to us by Parliamentary intervention into marriage? Once more it fell to the Bishop of Exeter, in this case Michael Langrish, to express the Church’s concern when the Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act 2013 was making its way through the House of Lords. He said that if the bill was passed:

    A basic understanding of marriage, in law, will have irrevocably changed, and with one reality now bearing two different labels; or we will have legislated into being two very different realities, but confusingly bearing the same name.

    One of the points about a civil partnership is that it is very much not a marriage. A same-sex marriage is also very much not a marriage in the eyes of the church. So, is there any good reason why a pastoral and sensitive response can be made to those who have entered a civil partnership, but not to those who have entered a same-sex marriage?

    The pattern would seem to be well established – we begin with the Service of Prayer and Dedication where the couple but not the union are blessed, we follow that with the pastoral and sensitive prayers for those who have entered a civil partnership which might equally bless them but not their union, and then we come to those who have entered a same-sex relationship where again we pray for and bless them but not their civil union. Although not spelled out in that way, it is my understanding that the many years of work that went into producing the resource section of the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF) were intended to produce exactly that – a recognition and blessing of the positive goods seen in a relationship, without any acknowledgement of that relationship being anywhere close to what the church currently understands to be a marriage in the sight of God. Such a marriage, when entered into according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England, necessarily can only take place between a man and a woman.

    It was that understanding that was set out in GS 2289 when the House stated its intention of commending those resources for use by those who wished to use them, but reserving always the right of any cleric to decline to do so on grounds of doctrinal conscience, as was the case in 1985.

    On the basis of all the above, it is clearly in order for any cleric who wishes to do so, to use the commended PLF resources in any regularly scheduled service. Although the House has in its guidance so far said that they should not be used other than in regularly scheduled services, I find it difficult to understand why that should be the case. I take on board what FAOC has said about symbolism, but note that the same was said in the Lichfield report in 1978, and that all the symbolic matters that concern FAOC may be just as much present in a regularly scheduled service as in a standalone service. And it is to be noted that the Introduction to the Prayers at pages 3 and 4 is very clear about what is and what is not being offered through using these resources.

    It also seems to me that on the same basis that Chancellor Seed considered that, when no other provision had been made but some sort of service was required, then it is within the discretion of the minister to provide a service that is not contrary to or indicative of departure from the doctrine of the Church of England. It is very difficult to see how what is apparently not so indicative in a regular service should become so simply because the service is occasional.

    The threat of legal proceedings?

    Throughout the discussion of these matters, and obviously something that has weighed heavily with the House, is the possibility of legal proceedings being taken against a cleric who uses prayers that have not had full Canon B2 approval. But I question whether the House has really looked at the nature and detail of those potential proceedings and therefore at the reality of the threat they are thought to pose.

    Any complaint would clearly be about doctrine – the whole ground of any such disciplinary complaint would be that what had happened was contrary to the doctrine of the Church. As such it could not proceed under the Clergy Discipline Measure 2003, as section 7(2) of that Measure provides that “proceedings in relation to matters involving doctrine, ritual or ceremonial shall continue to be conducted in accordance with the 1963 Measure”. That is the Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction Measure 1963 (EJM). Its proceedings are complex to say the least. It was their complexity, cost and consequent rare use that led to the passing of the Clergy Discipline Measure 2003.

    First, under the EJM there are restrictions on those who can commence proceedings. Under section 19 proceedings can only be commenced (1) by a person authorised by the Diocesan Bishop to bring a complaint; (2) by six persons aged 18 or over whose names are on the electoral roll of the parish the incumbent or stipendiary curate who they seek to complain about; (3) in the case of the stipendiary curate by their incumbent. I would have thought it unlikely that a cleric whose parishioners were unsupportive is likely to offer such prayers. There is much in the guidance about discussing matters and getting the approval of the PCC for their use. Also, the complainants would have a lengthy and potentially expensive path ahead of them. As for the Bishop bringing a complaint, I think any Bishop would have to think long and hard before launching one, as may become clear as we consider the process.       

    Under section 39, once the complaint has been brought to the Bishop’s attention and they have considered it, they must give the accused and the complainant the opportunity of a private interview. Having held that interview or interviews the Bishop may decide to take no further steps in the matter in which case it comes to an end, or may decide to refer it for inquiry.

    If the bishop has referred the complaint for inquiry, the inquiry is carried out by a Committee of Convocation in accordance with section 42. The committee consists in the case of an accused priest or deacon of (i) one member of the Upper House of the Convocation of the relevant province appointed by the archbishop; (ii) two members of the Lower House of that Convocation appointed by the prolocutor of that House; and (iii) two chancellors of dioceses in that province, appointed by the Dean of the Arches and Auditor. That committee inquires into the complaint to decide whether there is a case to answer in respect of which the accused should be put on trial. Both sides may lay evidence before the committee in affidavits; the committee might also require any deponent to an affidavit to attend and answer questions on oath. The committee decides if there is a case to answer and, if so, they spell out what the offence is.

    But that is not an end of the matter because they go on to consider whether the offence is too trivial to warrant further proceedings; or that it was committed under extenuating circumstances; or that further proceedings would not be in the interests of the Church of England; and in any of those cases they would then dismiss the complaint. Also, they may decide there is no case to answer. Only if they decide there is a case to answer and that they are not dismissing it for any of the reasons set out above can they send it for trial before the Court of Ecclesiastical Causes Reserved.      

    This Court consists of five members: two Court of Appeal judges (currently Smales and Lindblom LJJ) and three Diocesan Bishops (currently Chelmsford, Chichester, and Gloucester) They are assisted by between three and five persons selected from of a panel of specialist theologians and liturgists. Proceedings follow the pattern of a criminal trial with the criminal rules of evidence. Any decision is decided by a majority.

    If at the conclusion of the proceedings the accused is found guilty of the offence charged, then they are liable to be censured in accordance with section 49. However, under section 49(3), unless the accused has been admonished on a previous occasion in respect of another offence of the same or substantially the same nature, then no censure more severe than a ‘monition’ can be imposed. A monition is “an order to do or refrain from doing a specified act”, which effectively would amount to an order not to do it again. There is therefore no risk of deprivation inhibition or suspension for a first offence.

    It is all that complexity coupled with the lack of teeth in any outcome for a first offence that causes me to think that it would be very unlikely that any bishop would (a) authorise proceedings in the first place, or (b) want to send to an inquiry any case that had been launched by anybody else. Equally, I think that any Committee of Convocation would be very tempted to use one of their three options to dismiss rather than send the case to a hearing. Given the limited penalty, for a first offence which this would inevitably be, what would be the benefit of going to a hearing? Even if any of the parties or the Bishop thought that this might resolve an important doctrinal issue, there would be no guarantee of the outcome, and so I would guess little appetite to take the risk.

    In all the circumstances, it does seem to me that the threat of litigation is vastly overstated in the papers that have been produced so far.

    So where do we go from here?

    The resource material in the PLF is available as commended material for use when praying with a same sex couple in regularly scheduled services and that position is likely to remain after the House reaches final decisions in December.

    Even if they were to withdraw that commendation, it would be open to any priest relying on Canon B 5.2 to use a form of service considered suitable by them to provide a service of thanksgiving and prayer for a couple who approached them asking for such. It seems to me that it would be very difficult to criticise what would surely be seen as a pastoral and sensitive approach. In the preliminary conversations with the couple, I cannot imagine that the priest would not explain that there were limits to what could be offered because the Church of England for the time being has a doctrine of marriage which does not permit it to do any more, given that they are a same sex couple. I cannot imagine that would be any surprise to the couple, who in agreeing to the service offered, would be acknowledging that they understood that that was the Church’s doctrine.

    I can also see no reason why in any announcements about the service, either in advance or at the time, something could not be said that effectively apologised that no more could be offered whilst the current doctrinal position about same sex marriage remains in place. This would overcome the anxiety of FAOC that simply saying what positively is on offer may lead people to conclude that the Church has a doctrinal position other than it has. I can of course understand that people may not want to say anything that detracts from positive statements in the service itself but it would, so far as I can see, provide a complete answer to that significant concern of FAOC.

    And we can look back to those same concerns being expressed about the remarriage issues in the 1980s and note that there has been no lessening of an understanding of what the Church’s doctrine of marriage says. People still believe that the couple are committing to a life together till death does them part, and not committing to have a go at it for as long as they can, which has always seemed to me to be what lawyers refer to as ‘special pleading’.

    But, assuming that the December position of the House follows on from what was said in October, what of those who are not able to accommodate the prayers into their regular pattern of services? It seems to me that the arguments I have just advanced in relation to relying on Canon B 5.2 apply equally in those circumstances.

    What if a diocesan bishop issues an ad clerum purporting to forbid clergy using those prayers in their diocese? The oath of canonical obedience is to “pay true and canonical obedience to the Lord Bishop … and his successors in all things lawful and honest”. On the face of it there is a strong argument for saying that the priest is properly applying canon law and cannot be forbidden from so doing. Canonical obedience is generally understood as obeying such instructions as are given within the law of the church, and the law expressed in Canon B5 allows a priest to use such forms of service as are considered suitable by them for the occasion.

    But it should be noted that Canon B 5.4 provides that “If any question is raised concerning the observance of the provisions of this Canon it may be referred to the Bishop in order that he may give such pastoral guidance, advice or directions as he may think fit,  but such reference shall be without prejudice to the matter in question being made the subject matter of proceedings under the Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction Measure 1963.” The question here is whether an individual diocesan Bishop, in all the circumstances outlined above, is really able to say that the use of such prayers is either contrary to or indicative of a departure from the doctrine of the Church of England in an essential matter. Ultimately of course if such a direction were given and not followed it could be the subject of a complaint under the 1963 Measure, which would proceed as set out above to an outcome which, at the moment, may seem very uncertain for the Bishop.

    Finally, it must follow from all that I have said above that the House needs to give further thought to the matters that I have set out before coming to any final decisions. Careful consideration needs to be given to the long history of the relationship between church and state in relation to the state’s development of marriage and how the church has responded at different times. It needs to be acknowledged that the church has always been concerned that any adaptation of its practices to accommodate what is happening in the outside world may be seen as a threat to its understanding and doctrine of marriage.

    However, accommodations have always been made, and the doctrine has survived. There may be a lot of pressure both inside and outside the church to change the doctrine, but there is no doubt what that doctrine is. They should also not forget that some provinces have already changed their doctrine of marriage, and many other provinces are currently struggling over these issues, even as we are. Historically, the House has led the way in providing sensitive and pastoral accommodation in such changing times.  My question to them is whether they have the courage to do so again?

  • You Are Already Blessed: A Letter to the Church of England

    **published in conjunction with the Campaign for Equal Marriage**

    by Anna Lawrence, a writer, editor and educator based in Birmingham. She blogs at Five by Three

    Dear Church of England,

    While you decide whether or not you can bring yourself to bless me and the woman that I love, I just wanted to reassure you.

    We are already blessed.

    I have tried to do things your way, ever since I was a child. I tried to pray away the gay. I locked up Gay Me in the attic and married a man. (And guess what? He was gay too, but that’s another story.) I tried giving what I coded as “TGT” – The Gay Thing – a little back room in my head where I allowed myself to go for restricted visits and tried to imagine it being ok to be me. I tried repressing it entirely, banning books and songs and thoughts and people and places – anything that made me feel expansive and alive and open to the possibility of being my full self. I decided I must live like an anchoress within my marriage, choosing to be walled in, throwing myself at Church God in the confines of a cell, hoping that the pressure would squeeze something good and wise out of me. Guess what? It didn’t work. Church told me I was not ok and I believed it, and Church held the door wide open for shame, self loathing and depression. They corroded me and told me that my children would be better off without this mad mother who threw herself at walls and begged for inspiration. Better dead than gay. Church did not come and sit with me and light a candle in that darkness. Church was too busy bickering about the likes of me to notice.

    Still.

    When Church did not look for me, I went looking for what Church calls “God” in other places. I tried out other names that didn’t set off tripwires: my Knowing, my Unknowing, my Beloved, Source, Loving Presence. This Love – huge as everything and intimate as breath inside my lungs – did not wait for me to step over your threshold. Love met me at Greenbelt, in feminist theology, in poetry, in friends who brought me brownies when I was bereaved. Love met me in meditation, lying under soft blue blankets at the Buddhist Centre, noticing the feelings in my toes. Love met me in podcasts – Tara Brach, Kristin Neff and Cynthia Bourgeault – where women (knowing we live first and last and only in our bodies and not as talking heads in committee rooms) invited me to practise Loving Kindness, Self Compassion, Centering Prayer.

    Love works with and through the therapist who asks me to place a hand over my heart, to hum low and long to calm this frightened, fragile animal.

    The Beloved does not forget me. Again, again, again, She re-members me, remakes me from the parts Church tried to split apart, as if sexuality were something to be cut out and dropped into a jar, like an inflamed appendix.

    This Love is Chrysalis, holding the gloop of me that had been caterpillar but doesn’t yet have wings: the what-was and what’s-here and what’s-not-yet.

    The thing – The Gay Thing – I thought so long a curse has turned out to be a Blessing. Church equivocation – “nah, I’m sorry, we’re not sure ALL of you belongs”- sent me looking elsewhere. It turns out that I was already found.

    Love lives in our home – our ordinary life of lunch boxes and putting bins out and making whole what has been badly broken. We are learning – slowly, imperfectly – to be hospitable to all the spiked defences in ourselves and in each other, and to welcome back the parts we sent away. Love is here in rift and in repair.

    I’m not sure yet if I’ll give Church another go. I keep trying, and have been welcomed by warm and lovely people who have conducted “illegal” ceremonies for people like me. They know that Church has got it badly wrong. I begin to put my weight through Church again. And then Church says out loud that you’re not sure about blessing me and you need to discuss it. And I think about the woman who I love and I’m not sure why I’m putting myself through this once again.

    I have realised I do not want your blessing.

    Instead I find it in a mychorrizal network of people who pay kind attention, who are rooted in Source, whose nourishment moves through nodes of connection. I throw myself into the dirt and mess, resting in the dark where things grow best, and call on Love – this fierce, wild Presence – to meet us where we’re wounded,  where we wound, to meet us where we make and think and play.

    And here’s the thing: after everything you’ve done and said, and left undone, unsaid, I can’t bring myself to give you my blessing. But whether I decide to welcome you or not – each of you who makes up Synod, deciding what to do with all the tricky ones like me – each of you is already welcomed, regardless. You, like me, are loved from the inside out.

    You are already blessed.

  • Killing Fear and Freeing Conscience: Charting the Way Forward for our Life Together

    Questions of Conscience (2)

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

    Fear – especially confected fear – is never the answer to anything. We have seen that in so many different ways the church has gotten things wrong over the years, whether it is from the hushing up of grotesque abuse, to the way non-white, non-het, non-cis, non-male, non-wealthy, and disabled voices have been silenced, to the current impasse over sexuality that we might – finally – be seeing a way through. Where love is, there is God; where fear is, and certainly where that fear has been whipped up and used as a political tool, as a tool of power, there isn’t much God.

    As we look towards the conversations over the future of the Church of England’s engagement with LGBTQI people, I think we need to be ever alert to where fear is dwelling, and more importantly, where fear is being sown. Power is a complicated beast, but it is never far away from where we find that fear. And a fear that is sown for political gain is a dangerous, nasty, brutish thing. It is the antithesis of the Gospel.

    Which brings me to conscience, because an awful lot has been made of it in recent months, and yet the whiff of fear and power has never been far away. And it’s time it was called out.

    When we entered the Synod process in February, there was no such thing as ‘Pastoral Reassurance’ on the agenda, but as we look towards July – and further – this rather benign-sounding phrase has become very much front and centre in our way of finding how to live with one another if queer people get to form loving relationships that might just be offered God’s blessing. In the first instance, I don’t think we should beat about the bush – ‘Pastoral Reassurance’, in this context, means allowing for the consciences of those for whom the blessing of particular forms of love is a step too far. That is all well and good, though it is interesting that the consciences of LGBTQI people have essentially been ignored for the last fifty years in the church! We are where we are – and it’s encouraging to see conscience back on the agenda. But what has happened at the same time is a campaign, primarily – and shamefully – led by the Church of England Evangelical Council, who misleadingly represent themselves as the only evangelical voice. but one that has been promoted elsewhere too – albeit more quietly and subtly – that has made it clear that any appeal to ‘conscience’ is very much one way. And it’s not on.

    We’ve seen this in public comments about what ‘the doctrine of marriage’ is – arguments that present a fait accompli without showing any working, and without any willingness to recognise the reality of decisions made in Synod to bin Issues and move on, let alone enter sensible conversations about conscience for those of us who remain banned from intimacy with our loved ones. The ‘doctrine of marriage’ is clear, unambiguous, settled, complete, we are told, and thus there can be no blessing of sexually active same-sex/same-gender relationships without destroying that doctrine. The two-pronged attack, then, continues – one particular type of conscience must be respected, and yet still there must be no sex or intimacy for the gays. Absolute nonsense about bishops’ (and others’) ordination vows and the rest of it is being flung around the social media landscape, and yet a quiet, calm, serious reflection on what actually happened at Synod, and what doctrine actually is, makes it very clear that this is – frankly – rubbish.

    So let’s get a couple of things straight, as it were, before we entertain any more of this culture of fear and of one-sided narratives.

    The first – and most obvious –  is that the ‘doctrine of marriage’ is not static. Indeed, marriage itself as a construct is not static and it is totally ludicrous to argue that doctrine hasn’t developed to respond to changing cultural and societal realities. Similarly, it is by no means clear that the ‘doctrine of marriage’ as it is currently formulated inevitably forbids sexually active same-sex/gender relationships – in fact, there is a very strong argument that the opposite is true, not least in the mind of Synod. General Synod passed an amendment that supported no change in ‘the doctrine of marriage’ – foolishly in my mind, given it is clear that the only purpose of the amendment was to enter into the kind of tiresome power games we’re now seeing, however benign some bishops naively appear to have seen it to be. Yet Synod then roundly rejected the following wrecking motion that attempted to create Guidance that ‘include[d] instructions making it clear that they should not be used so as to indicate or imply affirmation of sexually active relationships outside Holy Matrimony or to invoke God’s blessing on such relationships.’ To reiterate, that fell – and it fell handsomely, with only one diocesan bishop in favour and every house convincingly voting against. For all the hot air and blether by those who are determined to hold us all to ransom to any one particular understanding of ‘doctrine’, Synod itself has offered a rebuke. Good try, as it were – but not quite good enough: a case of shooting oneself in the foot, perhaps.

    Which brings us back to conscience. Conscience has a good, long, honourable, Anglican history to it. Rigid, self-righteous, unimaginative definitions of doctrine have frequently brought people to the tribunal or the stake; imaginative, careful, thoughtful, conscience-respecting understandings of doctrine have led not only to healthier churches but amongst other things to the great leaps in ecumenism of the past century.

    So as we look ahead, we have the opportunity, and I would argue the obligation, to commit to two things. Both are absolutely central to finding a way forward in which we can live in harmony with one another, however uncomfortable we might find it. We need, all of us, to commit to freedom of conscience and – concurrently – freedom from fear. And I mean genuine freedom of conscience – a recognition that others have consciences in just the same way that we do, that others are not trying to destroy the church, that others are wanting to find ways to live together, that others might have something to add rather than simply take away. That we might not have all the answers, and that entry into conversation requires just that – genuine conversation. That we don’t own the Church of England, its doctrine, or – really – anything at all.

    But the respecting of conscience will not come if we are unwilling to lay down the sowing and promotion of fear. If we fail to do that, it will kill us as a church. If we fail to take that risky step of being willing to see Christ in those with whom we fundamentally, utterly, totally disagree, then we will not only fail in what we have to do, but we will fail in our fundamental calling as followers of Christ.

    Time will tell as to whether we are able – or rather, willing – to offer those with whom we disagree the courtesy of mutual recognition. Time will tell, too, whether we are willing to let go of the fearmongering. And time will tell, I might suggest, whether we are thus willing to grow more into the likeness of Christ – or recast Him in our own – rather narrow, rather dull, rather limited – image, instead.

  • Freedom of Conscience: Sauce for the Gander?

    Questions of Conscience (1):

    opening a new series of posts offering reflections on this theme

    by Canon Giles Goddard, Vicar of St John’s, Waterloo and a consultant to the LLF Implementation Pastoral Reassurance Working Group

    We are hearing a lot about freedom of conscience at the moment. Some who oppose the introduction of Prayers for Love and Faith (PLF) are seeking assurances that they will be free to act according to their conscience, or that they will not be required to act against their conscience. In an open letter on 10th Feb 2023 the Archbishop asked the forbearance of the Diocese of York “as the work is done to ensure that freedom of conscience is properly respected.”

    The appeal to conscience is often seen as an ultimate moral arbiter, particularly among those who would resist what they see as innovations. Readers of this blog may remember ‘Cost of Conscience,’ an organisation which was vocal in the earlier years of this century in opposition to the ordination of women. Conscience is much cited amongst those opposed to abortion.

    I was glad to be asked to write something for Via Media on the subject, not least because I have been drawn back into the Living in Love and Faith process as a consultant to the Pastoral Reassurance Working Group. So I have been reflecting on and reading around the nature of conscience, and what status it might have in current discussions about ethical and liturgical practice within the Church of England.

    The word ‘conscience’ is an elision of two Latin roots; con and scio: meaning something like ‘knowing with’ or ‘knowing alongside.’ Conscience tends to be focused inwards, towards the actions of the self. According to philosopher Alberto Giubilini, there are in the history of philosophy four predominant understandings of conscience: it can be seen as a faculty for self-knowledge and self-assessment, or as having an epistemic function in the sphere of morality, or as a motivational force, or as a set of self-identifying moral beliefs. Within the Anglican tradition it is, according to this very helpful lecture by Revd Dr. Michael Hull of the Scottish Episcopal Church, “that God-given capacity that allows us to adjudicate the rightness of our action and also to show, fully, our integrity to God.”

    In other words, conscience is not the absolute arbiter of what is right and what is wrong. It is the human capacity to identify, to ourselves, what we understand to be the right course of action in an ethical context. Thomas Aquinas recognised that conscience may err. John Calvin saw conscience as a battleground: “the enemies who rise up in our conscience against his Kingdom and hinder his decrees prove that God’s throne is not firmly established therein.”   The dictate of conscience is based on a number of factors: for Christians, on the Word of God, yes – but also on reason, experience and the culture and communities within which we live.

    Thus conclusions reached according to conscience can be diametrically different. Those who are willing to carry out abortions would often appeal to their consciences in so doing, taking into account their duty as medical professionals and their responsibilities to their patients. Others will not carry out abortions, citing conscientious objection as sufficient ground for refusal.

    Similarly, in relation to PLF, radically different conclusions are supported by appeals to conscience. Many who have or who would wish to offer prayers of blessing for same sex couples would be clear that they are acting in accordance with their conscience. My own reading of scripture, reason and tradition, as well as experience, leads me to the clear conclusion that I would be acting against my conscience in refusing to seek God’s blessing on a same-sex relationship.  Others, notably conservative evangelicals, appeal to conscience in rejecting PLF, reading the same scriptures I read but drawing very different conclusions.

    Conscience can also confuse. Huckleberry Finn famously feels that he has acted against his conscience when he helps slave Jim to escape from his aunt:

    The more I studied about this the more my conscience went to grinding me, and the more wicked and low-down and ornery I got to feeling. And at last … it hit me all of a sudden that here was the plain hand of Providence slapping me in the face and letting me know my wickedness was being watched all the time from up there in heaven.

    The appeal to conscience by conservatives seems to me in any event to be a distraction from the core discussion, for at no point during the entire LLF process has any suggestion been made that anyone opposed would be required to offer prayers of blessing. Nor has any suggestion been made that their position in the Church of England would be in any way compromised by a refusal to offer PLF.

    What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, though. It is very possible to imagine a situation where a priest and a PCC may wish to offer Prayers of Love and Faith within a Diocese or Area where the bishop is opposed. What then? Do we need safeguards in place to ensure that the freedom of conscience exercised by a progressive priest does not undermine their place in the Church of England? Alternative episcopal oversight?

    This from Alberto Giubilini:

    Far from being a conversation-stopper, conscience can only find its proper place in philosophical and in public discussion if its philosophical and psychological aspects are teased out, defined and assessed. Appeals to conscience can only be part of philosophical, political, and legal discussion if they are seen as the start, not the end of discussions.

    As we move forward in the conversations about pastoral reassurance, perhaps an initial step will be to note that conscience is not, of itself, an arbiter of right thinking. The Living in Love and Faith process has, over six years, carefully unpicked the theological, scriptural, experiential and historical complexities of human relationships, sexuality and God’s love.

    It’s quite clear that it is not going to be easy to square the circle, but I hope that we can recognise that the appeal to conscience is no less straightforward than anything else in this process.

     

     

     

  • Wrestling for a Blessing in a Time of “Theological Nonsense”

    by Ruth Harley, curate of Watling Valley Ecumenical Partnership in the Diocese of Oxford, and co-author of ‘Being Interrupted: re-imagining the church’s mission from the outside, in’. 

    “The Blessing of a Civil Marriage of a couple… is a theological nonsense, but sometimes a pastoral necessity, while the Church’s marriage discipline is in such confusion. Theologically, we should have to say that, if a… marriage is possible and valid, the Church should be willing to celebrate it for its members. If it is not possible or valid, the Church has no business blessing it.”(1)

    This could almost have been a commentary on the proposals made in GS2289 Living in Love and Faith: a response from the Bishops of the Church of England, released on Friday ahead of General Synod. But it is not. It is the late, great Michael Perham, writing in 1984 in about the blessing of the civil marriage of couples in which one person (or both) is divorced with a former spouse still living.

    He is right, I think, to say that blessing a marriage which we will not celebrate puts the church in a position of “theological nonsense”. That was true when he wrote it almost 40 years ago about the remarriage of divorcees, and it is true now about the marriage of same-sex couples. As Perham goes on to observe, “the principal function of the priest in a marriage is to bless”. It makes little liturgical or theological sense to permit the blessing of a marriage but not the solemnisation of the marriage itself, the principal function of which is, after all, blessing.

    And yet, here we are – in the territory of “theological nonsense”. The proposals for blessing same-sex relationships are a step forward, but still a far cry from the fullness of what we hoped for, and will continue to work for: full marriage equality irrespective of the genders of the couple.

    But blessing is in itself a powerful and weighty thing. I remember the first time I raised my hand to bless someone as a priest – to pronounce God’s blessing with the authority of the church – being  taken by surprise by the physicality of that weightiness.

    Blessing is more than ‘saying a prayer’. To pray a blessing is to do something more than “to reflect the blessing of God in all creation”,  as the bishops’ response to LLF puts it (2). A blessing, as spoken liturgically in the context of divine worship by a priest, has a particularity about it. To bless is to ask and declare God’s blessing on these people and, in the case of the blessing of a marriage, this relationship. To bless is to recognise and respond to God’s presence and purpose in this specific moment and person(s) and place.

    We bless people not because they are good, but because they are God’s – and so is the blessing we proclaim. We bless in the midst of the world’s brokenness, and blessing and breaking are closely entwined in the liturgical imagination, as day by day we offer the blessed and broken body of Christ in the eucharist, and live as the blessed and broken body of Christ in the world. To bless is not to say ‘this is perfect’, but rather ‘God is in this’. To bless a loving relationship – whether that is a civil partnership or a marriage (or indeed a covenanted friendship) – is to reflect the truth that “whoever lives in love lives in God and God lives in them” (1 John 4.16).

    Blessing is a significant step in the right direction in terms of the church’s response to same-sex couples. But it is a step which leads us to not into the satisfaction and relief of resolving the situation, but rather into the turmoil and discomfort of “theological nonsense”. So just what kind of progress is this?

    Significant change – change which is paradigm-shifting – often requires the old paradigm to be destabilised before a new paradigm can be established. It is out of the destabilising “theological nonsense” in which we now find ourselves that a way forward will emerge. That is how it was with the remarriage of divorcees. As Michael Perham observed, to say that a marriage can be blessed but not solemnised by the church is an untenable position. And so a way forward was found for divorcees to marry in church.

    There are some parallels here with women’s ordination too. To say that a woman can be ordained priest but not ordained bishop is also “theological nonsense”. But it was only out of a time of living with that untenable position that the move to ordain women to all orders of ministry eventually emerged.

    We long for a conclusion, a resolution, for the theological and pastoral good sense of full equality for all, irrespective of sexuality or gender identity. This week it may feel like we are still so far from that goal. The proposals before Synod are like a discordant note, still awaiting the final, resolving, chord. But we should not underestimate the power of blessing. It is a significant thing, both in its own right, and as a means of showing up the “theological nonsense” of denying equal marriage to same-sex couples for what it is.

    Dwelling in this in-between time, this now-and-not-yet in which the “theological nonsense” of the status quo is revealed but not yet resolved, will be hard and painful for many of us. We are blessed, and yet still wrestling for a blessing. The church will emerge from this wrestling, this time of “theological nonsense”, both broken and blessed, as the body of Christ always is. For now, we limp on together.

     

    (1) Michael Perham, Liturgy Pastoral and Parochial (SPCK, 1984), p. 104.

    (2) GS2289 Living in Love and Faith: a response from the Bishops of the Church of England, p. 6.

  • Unity and the Myth of Neutrality

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

    There is no such thing as ‘neutral’ when it comes to our treatment of other people.

    This is, of course, an obvious truth – one accepted for generations and across thousands of different particular circumstances. Refusing to take a position when it comes to the dignity of others is not morally neutral – it comes with a moral cost. Silence in the face of oppression is complicity.

    Yet this seems to be something that people in the church – whether bishops, other clergy, or lay people – seem far too often to be unable or unwilling to accept. For years, with a few notable exceptions, the church has lagged behind in matters of social justice – acting not as a spur to change or even issuing a call to action, but instead bringing up the rear. Yet we have told ourselves, far too often, that to take a position instead and risk losing ‘neutrality’ is to do a disservice to our role in the world. We convince ourselves that silence is a moral good – often in the name of ‘unity’. Indeed, we convince ourselves that neutrality is possible.

    There is so much wrong with this position that it seems almost embarrassing to engage with it. Taking a step back and looking in at the church from the outside, it becomes increasingly clear why nobody wants to hear anything from us. It is not only our open hostility to things the world takes as read that makes us irrelevant. Our ‘neutrality’ on matters of human dignity entirely compromises our ability to speak out and be listened to as well.

    Silence is one end of the spectrum. A refusal to say anything, of course, is nonetheless a very clear statement. Silence means ‘we don’t have your back, and we draw an equivalence between “both sides”’. It means ‘we don’t care enough about you to stand up for you’. It means ‘you don’t matter’. It means ‘we will protect the institution of the church whilst using you as collateral’.

    Yet silence is only one part of the problem. Alleged neutrality is, in a sense, far more pernicious. And that false sense of neutrality seeps into every aspect of church life. We have seen it in the ‘both-side-ism’ of Living in Love and Faith, and we see it still in the conflation of the vulnerability of LGBTQI people with the vulnerability of those taking a self-professed conservative viewpoint. We see it in false equivalence between the ‘concern’ to keep conservatives in the church and the need to be ‘pastorally sensitive’ to LGBTQI people. Enough with the patronising claptrap. Enough with the falsehoods. We are barred from ministry; our loves are called ‘ungodly and devilish’; our lives are pruriently pored over; we are condemned to second-rate tolerance – at best. We are bleeding LGBTQI people from our church. There is no equivalence here – we don’t want to push anyone away from the Table, we simply want to take our rightful place, each of us created in the image of God just as much as straight people. We want the church to see what is already blessed by God.

    Yet within the church, we have departed so far from the reality of life that people live day to day that we have created our own ‘churchy’ culture that replaces real life with cis, heterosexualist fantasy. And far too many of us participate in it, LGBTQI or otherwise. We give it credence – we tell ourselves and each other how ‘brave’ it is for bishops and others to speak out in even lukewarm terms about LGBTQI people. We dance around ‘the issue’, and we ‘keep our heads down’ so as not to cause trouble.

    One of the most depressing things I’ve noticed in recent weeks is how many self-identifying LGBTQI clergy – and, worse, our allies – seem to have been conditioned into believing that the most we should hope for is the scraps under the Table. I have sat with clergy who fear being ‘too pro-same-sex marriage’ despite living with their partner, who have bought so heavily into the need for ‘balance’ and ‘neutrality’ that they are willing to disown the love of their life in the process. I have been told it’s a ‘step too far’, and that ‘well, we have managed OK’. ‘I’m not sure the church is in that place just yet.’ ‘These things move in long time frames.’ ‘We need some more theology’. ‘Let’s not rock the boat too much’.

    It’s about time to take the blinkers off. The life-giving power of the Gospel is not about ‘privately managing’. ‘We’ might have managed so far, but since when has the church been a church for those already in the institution, those already in the know who can have a ever-so-secret civil partnership ceremony in church, against the rules but allowed with a wink-wink, nudge-nudge. How have we gotten ourselves to a place where we – as LGBTQI clergy and those who profess to be our allies – will not be honest? Much criticism has been levelled at the bishops – and much of that is entirely valid – yet where is the ground-swell of truth-telling from clergy on the front line? Why are we so timid? Have we really drunk the ‘unity’ Kool-Aid, a ‘unity’ that is simply a false neutrality that tramples over queer people in the process?

    The time has come for us to get off the fence – bishops, clergy, laity – everyone. The time has come for us to stop pretending there is something called ‘neutral’, and to call it out. There is nothing neutral about the current position of the Church of England as pertains to LGBTQI people – nothing whatsoever. In refusing to bless our relationships, it says there is nothing good in them – that we are unable to reflect the love of God in the same way that heterosexuals are. It says that we are somehow, innately, disordered. We are ‘less than’. Our love and its human expression is something that needs to be ‘excused’, something we should be slightly embarrassed about.

    There is no neutral position on same-sex relationships – but there is cowardice. And it needs to be called out – in bishops, in clergy, in laity – in ourselves. Yet we continue to let people get away with it. We tolerate their warm words that lead to no action. We nod when we hear talk of ‘unity’, buying into the absurd suggestion that bishops create it and that Christ demands it at any cost – even the lives of LGBTQI young people. We call people supportive who won’t lift a finger to actually support us. We keep quiet in order to ‘keep the peace’. We deny the image of God in others – and far too often ourselves as well.

    No more of this nonsense. It is time for the cycle to be broken. Our mission, our faith, our truth, our love, our relationships, our whole being depends on us loosening the shackles that continue to bind us, and our minds. The church can – must, surely – start to say what we believe it should say. But it’s not going to do it on its own – and if, as members of this church, we aren’t willing to play our part, then what are we for?

    The Archbishop of Canterbury, and other bishops, may be willing to continue to construct the alternative reality of ‘neutrality’ and silence when it comes to the human dignity of LGBTQI people, but we do not have to accept this as the only way. It is not. It has never been so, whatever we have become used to believing that we believe. Rather, let us become the church he speaks of – excepting this issue – as wanting to become:

    ‘We acted rightly, we spoke clearly, and we loved generously and we believed faithfully’.

    It is high time that this became true for our approach to LGBTQI people, our lives and loves, just as much as it is for anything else. To refuse to make it so is surely to cavort and collude with faithlessness, dishonesty and – ultimately – oppression.

    If you sit on the fence too long, it becomes rather uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s time to offer a reminder of that simple fact – and time for the church to become the beacon of hope it is called to be.