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Tag: CEEC

  • GAFCON and CEEC

    by Canon Dr Phil Groves, who was a CMS Mission partner and lecturer in theology at St Philip’s Kongwa in Tanzania. He served at the Anglican Communion Office for 10 years. He has attended two Lambeth Conferences, three Primates’ Meetings and four ACCs. He has a PhD on Partnership in the Anglican Communion and is Vicar of the parishes of Cuddington and of Stone, Dinton and Hartwell. He is dyslexic and a member of the Church of England’s Neurodiversity Working Group

    Robert Thompson is right to point out that the recent alternative Anglican ordinations of seven deacons raises questions of church order.

    Of course this raises questions for the Church of England, but it is the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) that is in the frontline of the issues raised by this and by the GAFCON movement more widely.

    To understand the problem for CEEC, it is worth considering not only the three questions asked by CEEC’s National Director John Dunnett in a letter from the GAFCON 26 conference in Abuja in March but also Andrew Atherstone’s criticisms of the ‘alternative ordinations’.

    First, it is necessary to chart the major changes for GAFCON.

    Major Changes for GAFCON

    GAFCON was formed in 2008 as a renewal movement for the Anglican Communion for those who believed that churches of the Communion that blessed gay unions and accepted gay clergy should be removed from it. To do this they set out to redefine Anglicanism as a confessional church. They wrote and released their own confession – called the Jerusalem Declaration – unique because of its clause on human sexuality. The argument goes that, if we have one confession, we will all walk together without division.

    In October the GAFCON Primates declared themselves to be the Global Anglican Communion (GAC) and called for compete disengagement from the formal Instruments of Communion – the ACC, Primates’ Meeting, Lambeth Conference and the Archbishop of Canterbury.

    Following this, the March GAFCON 26 Conference was being watched carefully. The BBC had noticed that it had been heralded that the GAFCON Primates Council would elect a ‘primus inter pares’ of their own to rival the Archbishop of Canterbury; it was waiting for a big news story. But that did not happen. Instead, the GAFCON Primates appointed a ‘Global Anglican Council’ as a body to ‘provide spiritual and strategic oversight for the Communion’. 

    The ‘Global Anglican Council’ is made up of three categories of people: Primates[i], Advisors, and Guarantors. The propaganda has it that the GAFCON Primates handed over power, but this raises two points. First, they are still on the Council and they have retained the right to remain on it even if they retire as Primates. Secondly, it is right to ask who has taken on power and the answer to that is interesting.

    The Primates

    Only four of the seven Primates are from churches recognised as being in the Anglican Communion: Nigeria, Rwanda, Uganda, and Chile. The others are the Primates of the breakaway Anglican Churches in Brazil and North America, along with the Primate of REACH-SA. The General Secretary is also listed as a Primate and he too is very influential.

    Within this group of churches, there are different positions on women’s ministry. The provinces of Rwanda and Uganda were among those who led the way on women’s ordination and on the empowerment of women in male-dominated societies. The Anglican Church in North America is split and has decided not to have women bishops. The others are all against women in leadership and the collective decision is for there to be no women bishops in GAFCON/GAC churches.

    The Advisors

    The Archbishop of Sydney is one of the five Advisors. Sydney Diocese has a semi-autonomous place within the Anglican Church in Australia as a bastion of reformed theology. Three of the other Advisors have strong connections to Sydney; one is a former Archbishop of Sydney who now oversees the Diocese of the Southern Cross, which has only 9 churches all in other Australian Dioceses. The Diocese of Sydney also has close links to the Bishop of the Church of Confessing Anglicans Aotearoa/New Zealand with only 20 churches. Bishop Andy Lines of the Anglican Network in Europe is also closely aligned to Sydney – ANiE shares the same complementarian theology as Sydney and regards itself as ‘Reformed’.

    When you know that REACH-SA and the province of Chile are both very closely aligned with Sydney Diocese, you can detect a very powerful bloc.

    The final Advisor is Bishop Yassir Eric who is said to be the ‘Presiding Bishop of EKKIOS’. Ekkios is a ‘province in formation’ that is dedicated to the non-geographic discipleship of Muslim Born Believers. They do not appear to have a single church. Their online presence is limited to an AI generated website with no content except a link to a Facebook page with 22 followers and one post in 2026, and a YouTube channel with no content.

    The Guarantors

    The chair of the Guarantors is former Archbishop of Nigeria, Peter Akinola. He is joined by two businessmen: Mr Olayinka Fisher from Nigeria and Mr Emmanuel Kampouris from the USA.

    There is no reason why ordained Ugandan and Rwandan women could not have been among the ‘Guarantors’. This does not look like an oversight; it looks like a deliberate policy.

    The Council and Power

    Power in GAFCON/GAC has decisively moved towards:

    • Those churches who have never been part of the Anglican Communion and never will be.
    • Churches that assert complementarian theology.

    The inclusion of the Bishop from EKKIOS – a church not only without a single actual congregation, but also without an effective online presence – says something about what counts as a valid church.

    All this becomes important in the relationship with the CEEC.

    CEEC and GAFCON/GAC

    Up to now, the leadership of CEEC has wanted to be part of the GAFCON movement as well as the Global South Fellowship of Anglicans (GSFA), but they have questions around whether they are welcome or whether there is one big obstacle in the way.

    In his letter from GAFCON 26 John Dunnett asked three questions that expressed his disquiet at the direction of travel. I quote these in full:

    • First, what is not clear is how, and if, the launch of GAC will have a direct impact or relevance for those of us contending within the Church of England (we do however remain grateful for the ongoing commitment of GAFCON to support those contending within the C of E as well as those who have felt compelled to leave).
    • Second, I noted that the stage was dominated (perhaps even exclusively?) by men. This of course might reflect various cultural sensitivities, but if GAC is to be truly global then this needs to be addressed.
    • Finally, it continues to remain unclear how GAFCON and GSFA might relate going forwards. It is to be hoped that the launch of GAC will not exacerbate differences between them.

    I have been waiting to see if there is a public reply to these excellent questions, but nothing has been forthcoming. We can only speculate, based on the membership of the Council which was announced after the close of the conference and from the action in the alternative ordinations.

    1. What impact will the launch of GAC have for CEEC?

    The Abuja Affirmation calls for ‘principled disengagement’ and ‘constitutional disconnection’ from the Instruments of Communion – including the Archbishop of Canterbury. This means it is not going to be possible to remain within the Church of England and be part of GAFCON/GAC.

    The direction of travel of GAFCON/GAC seems to be away from the core aims of CEEC. John Dunnett is right to be concerned.

    1. Male Domination

    I fully support John Dunnett’s comments over the exclusion of women at GAFCON 26. The future looks even worse. For a start, all the members of the Global Anglican Council are men and most of them men who oppose women in leadership in the church. There will not be any room for significant leadership from women in GAFCON given the power dynamics in the Council.

    The line in CEEC is that there can be disagreement on women’s ministry because, unlike LGBTQI+ inclusion, it is not a creation and salvation issue. However, the Diocese of Sydney (and those influenced by Sydney) has a historic commitment to complementarianism where they have consistently argued that male headship and equality in difference is both a creation and salvation issue.

    John Dunnett would do well to heed the warning of Bishop Emily Onyango from Kenya, a member of the original 2008 GAFCON theological group, who describes the current GAFCON as ‘patriarchal’. 

    1. GAFCON/GCA and GSFA

    It must be a huge frustration when your allies are divided and this is the case for John Dunnett as he considers the relationship between GAFCON/GAC and GSFA.

    The GSFA is an attractive prospect for CEEC because they are firm on human sexuality but seeking to engage with the Anglican Communion. This is why they are now unacceptable to GAFCON/GAC.

    The problem is that GSFA will be reduced to 11 provinces in the Anglican Communion – some of those very small. No one can argue that they are even a majority of Anglicans in the Global South, let alone a majority in the Anglican Communion.

    GAFCON/GAC and the Alternative Ordinations

    We are once again very grateful to Andrew Atherstone for his article on the alternative ordinations. He is concerned by them.

    A GAFCON/GAC bishop – a bishop from REACH-SA – flew in overnight to ordain seven men in secret. Their names are not released, the sponsoring churches are unnamed and questions as to safeguarding and supervision are unanswered.

    Andrew’s account of the ordinations last year was generally positive, saying they had ‘launched a grand experiment’ and that they had made a ‘bold beginning’. His account of this year’s repeat is different:

    • Last year he found it regrettable that the event was not publicised and the names not released: this year he comments that ‘transparency over ordinations is essential.’
    • Last year he acknowledged that all of the deacons were men, but only in a response to a blog I wrote on this site: this year, in a challenge to the organisers, he directly asks why no women were ordained.
    • Last year he regretted the need for intervention from abroad: this year he is clear that ‘English problems need English solutions’.

    Andrew is right – transparency is essential. GAFCON/GAC is so focused on doctrinal orthodoxy that accountability is not part of the story. The recent history of John Smyth and the Fletchers should make us very afraid.

    The GAFCON/GAC direction towards complementarianism is writ large in these organisations. He claims that a REACH-SA Bishop could ordain women to the permanent diaconate. He is actually wrong: REACH-SA do not ordain women – they ‘make’ deacons. ‘Lady Deacons’ can read the Bible in public worship, teach children and assist in leading singing while lay men can preach, and even, in certain circumstances, baptise and preside at the Lord’s Table. In the polity of REACH-SA, deacons are not ordained.

    His third concern is the way geographic boundaries are crossed. The original Church of England in South Africa bishops were themselves ordained by bishops from the Diocese of Sydney, so it is unsurprising that such boundaries are regarded as immaterial. The GAFCON/GAC model will not accept that ‘English problems need English solutions’.

    Problems ahead for the CEEC

    The likelihood is that GAFCON/GAC will seek to grow by including other churches that adopt the Jerusalem Declaration. We know that the geographic element of church is low on the priority list from the promotion of the ‘presiding bishop’ of EKKIOS to the Council.

    The Confessing Anglican Church is another church seeking membership of GAFCON/GAC. It has adopted the Jerusalem Declaration and their Archbishops were in Abuja. The Secretary General of GAFCON is to speak at their September synod.

    Why should this be a concern for the CEEC? The CAC has a lot of churches in India, but also around the world and it has a UK diocese. The UK ‘diocese’ has very few churches, but a significant social media reach through their UK Bishop Cei Dewar. Bishop Dewar is closely associated with the Tommy Robinson movement: he led the prayers launching the Unite the Kingdom rally last year.

    Bishop Dewar will have no problem in signing the Jerusalem Declaration and it is hard to see the grounds on which GAFCON would reject his church.

    The CEEC is an organisation that will not want to be linked – however distantly – with Tommy Robinson. His abusive appeal to ‘Christian Nationalism’ will be anathema to CEEC.

    The Core of the Problem

    The problem is that GAFCON/GAC basis itself on a false ecclesiology. The Bible does not support the idea that unity comes from doctrinal conformity any more than through institutional discipline (the GSFA model).

    Chrisitan unity is through relationships. Our relationships with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and the relationship of love that binds us in our differences. This is what Jesus and Paul both argued for in the Scriptures. This is what GAFCON/GAC ignores.

    John Dunnett and Andrew Atherstone are asking the right questions. They should be concerned.

    [i] The GAFCON/GAC General Secretary Bishop Paul Donison is listed as a ‘Primate’ indicating a place of influence and power.

  • Beyond Threats: Changing the Narrative after Living in Love and Faith

    by Charlie Bell, Fellow in Public Theology and Medicine at Girton College, Cambridge, Associate Vicar of St John the Divine, Kennington, in the Diocese of Southwark, and member of the LLF Vocations and Ministry Working Group

    When I was at my first Diocesan Synod, many years ago, just after the House of Bishops had issued their Valentine’s Day message that set in stone the current mess in relation to clergy being forbidden to marry their same-sex or gender partners, a cleric turned to me and said words that have stuck with me ever since: ‘you need to have a cooler head and a warmer heart’. These words have returned to me on a number of occasions during the Living in Love and Faith (LLF) fiasco, echoed by various ‘supportive’ or less supportive bishops or others involved in the process – often people who could return to their own husbands or wives at the end of the day, whilst asking people like me to ‘be patient’.

    They appeared in the back of my mind again last week when witnessing the total corporate failure of the House of Bishops to even pay lip service to their promise to ‘lament and repent of the failure of the Church to be welcoming to LGBTQI+ people and the harm that LGBTQI+ people have experienced and continue to experience in the life of the Church’. It was hard – it is hard – to see this as anything other than a total betrayal. Like many others, I felt disappointment, I felt grief. I also felt anger, frustration and the deep impotence of watching my life being decided upon by others. I felt fury at the bully-boy tactics of the Alliance. I felt – frankly – disgusted with the apparent refusal to take all of this on, by those who have claimed to support us throughout. And I was tempted to despair.

    It is hard to know where to start with the inadequacy of what happened, and I’ve taken a bit of time before penning this article to hear a few different perspectives. A statement was put out in the name of the House of Bishops – rushed, presumably, in light of yet another anticipated leak in this depressing process – which failed even to mention LGBTQIA people (I wonder whether this was even seen, let alone signed off, by the House?). In this statement, there was a clear narrative – that LGBTQIA people were, once again, to be the acceptable sacrifice in the name of some vague notion of church ‘unity-through-silence-and-stasis’ (a ‘unity’ which was shown to be a mirage just a few hours later, as GAFCON launched their most recent preposterous salvo). Here was the triumph of pragmatism and politics over people – process over progress – and all in the face of clear decisions of the General Synod (decisions which have been totally ignored throughout the process).

    The bishops didn’t help themselves in the ensuing days, not least through the double-speak we have sadly become so used to hearing. We have seen this endlessly in Synod motions – where ‘consider’ or ‘potential’ have become weasel words to allow something to be passed and then thrown on to the ‘too difficult’ pile at will. In radio performances, the bishops provided disingenuous accounts, full of handwringing and ‘well actually’ commentary which once again failed to take the seriousness of the failure into account, and which might make LGBTQIA people feel just a little gaslighted. The reality of putting something through a two-thirds majority process – that it will fail, given the unrepresentative nature of the General Synod – has never quite been named, and similarly, there is no commitment to actually beginning Synodal processes on clergy marriage.

    Abysmal ‘pastoral letters’ were penned, including one surprisingly weak example which would fail the ‘pastoral exercise’ at any Bishop’s Advisory Panel for potential ordinands. And to date, there has been – once again – a general recourse to silence amongst the House, including amongst the ‘inclusive’ bishops. Silence – just like inaction – is not value-neutral. For our chief pastors, it appears the pastoral urge is worryingly absent. Or, perhaps, fear really has taken over the institution.

    What has become clear from several conversations that I have had – and sight of the legal advice and theological advice – is that the narrative that the legal advice changed is absolute nonsense. It is certainly true that the legal advice suggested that the bishops might be at risk of legal challenge, but we’ve known this all along, not least from February 2024’s GS 2346 (the optimistically-named Living in Love, Faith, and Reconciliation). Part of the role of being a leader is to shoulder that kind of risk. The theological advice on the PLF also made clear that there remain contested areas here, much as there are over clergy entering marriages to people of the same sex or gender. But nothing has substantively changed. ‘We need more theology’ was not, in the end, the deciding factor, and nor was the fabled ‘legal advice’.

    Whilst we’re on that point, might we be a little clearer with language? We have heard time after time that one of the questions to be addressed is whether clergy can enter such marriages, and the need for separate structures if that is to be allowed, but that is not the actual question here. There are already clergy in such marriages – I’m one of them. We walk amongst you. We celebrate the sacraments and preach the word of God freely. I can – and often do – cover parishes all over the diocese, and more widely. But what I can’t do is be appointed to a new post – and those waiting for ordination cannot be ordained. The whole situation is ridiculous – it’s OK for me to share cure of souls in my parish and preside in another but not share cure of souls there and preside in mine. It is hard to follow an argument that suggests that I can continue to be made use of, whilst to permit others would be to break canon law and would require some grand structural change.

    The demands for structural change, of course, have been one of the key issues underlying this whole LLF process – in fact, LLF has become less about LGTBQIA people and more about keeping the purveyors of threats within the Church of England. A narrative has developed, bought – it appears – hook, line, and sinker by far too many within the House of Bishops, that ‘if you do X, we need Y’. If you have standalone services (whatever that means), we need special bishops. If you have clergy marriage, we need our own province. And so on. Few have been willing to stand up to this and say, ‘no, you don’t’ – instead, the game has been played according to those rules, and so here we are. The bishops were unwilling to ‘do violence to the ecclesiology’ of the Church of England, so LGBTQIA people can, essentially, get stuffed. It’s understandable from a purely pragmatic point of view, but it is utterly theologically bankrupt.

    I have some sympathy for the refusal to give into this kind of bullying, and it has been fascinating to see the rather muted response of the small but synodically overrepresented and extremely wealthy threat-makers and money-withdrawers when they realised their grand plan to create a purity cult, a church-within-a-church, has failed. Yet beyond the apparent unwillingness to challenge the Alliance narrative, bishops have also spoken about feeling cornered – managed to within an inch of their lives – by being presented with faits accomplis at recent meetings, with no room left for manoeuvre. It’s this, or it’s that, they were told. So, whether or not it was their intention, looking in from the outside, it certainly looks like they have run scared of the Alliance, given into threats, and left us out in the cold. In doing so, all the hope of February 2023 has fallen away, motions and the associated clear will of General Synod have been discarded, and we have a few measly prayers which many of us were doing already. No bespoke services. No change to the absurd rules on clergy marriage. Nothing. Nada. Nil.

    As I said at the start, I am as angry and as dejected as the next person. But I am also not willing to accept defeat here. So, whilst it is easy to get caught up in the frustration and the fury, I want to think instead of where we go from here.

    It is clearly the case that the bishops decided it was not worth pressing ahead with standalone services, but why? Is this the result of threats of legal action? Bishops need to be clear in their own minds why they voted the way they did, and just as clear as to how they will stop this mess happening again. How are they going to enable all the things that they have promised through Synod motions – some little more than crumbs under the table? How are they going to focus once again on radical inclusion and not on threat management?

    One of the key things to which the House of Bishops – and particularly those bishops supportive of LGBTQIA inclusion – need to commit is doing this better and growing some courage. It is time for them to take back a level of agency and own the decisions and the decision-making processes they are engaging in. This means, too, refusing to accept narratives peddled on the back of threats. There is no inevitability to the Alliance’s wish-list, and this needs to be clearly and unmistakably stated by our bishops. The alternative – that the House accepts that no change will happen unless structural provision is made, and that the House will not provide this – is that LGBTQIA people are the acceptable sacrifice. We – LGBTQIA people – are asking you: which is it?

    Indeed, in a letter to supporters this week, the CEEC has made clear that they want to see even the current commended prayers removed from use, and ‘if that is not possible’ to ‘advocate for a structural rearrangement which secures orthodoxy [sic’] going forward’. Threats will continue until they are taken on.

    Secondly, there needs to be a sense of urgency in the work and witness of the House of Bishops. LGBTQIA people are sick and tired of being trampled over or told to wait. David Monteith expressed this very powerfully last week, and his experience chimes with many of us. A failure to see why this is not only important but urgent is hurting the witness of the episcopal leadership of the Church of England – indeed, a failure to hear even a public word from inclusive bishops in the aftermath of this week’s car crash is fairly damning in and of itself. Of course, it is likely that the 44 bishops who spoke out a while back are now on a ‘do not appoint’ list provided by the Alliance to anti-LGBTQIA Crown Nominations Commission members considering diocesan appointments, but since when have threats been the way we go about our business? How about naming them instead, and calling the bluff of those who make them?

    Thirdly, they – and we – need to commit to what can be done right now, and get on with doing it. The arguments over what does and doesn’t require B2 are somewhat complicated (and I will engage with them in a later post), but it is quite obviously the case that something can be offered now (of which the PLF are a mere part and not the whole), and we ought to be getting on with it – and our bishops ought not only to be giving us quiet, covert cover, but to be public in their support. Similarly, now we have a route to dealing with the nonsense over clergy marriage, let’s do it – rather than kick the can down the road further.

    Some people have expressed dissatisfaction that parishes are not being encouraged to withhold parish share. Nobody is stopping you: if you are an incumbent with the support of your PCC and you wish to do so, then maybe now is indeed the time to do so – and to say so. Make it clear to your bishops that the threats of the Alliance are not the only show in town. Challenge decision making that prioritises those who threaten over those who are LGBTQIA. Support your bishops when they need it, and oppose them when they sell us down the river. Get involved in the campaigns that are out there, and if you feel they don’t go far enough, go further.

    And, of course, we are moving into an important year, where General Synod will once again be elected. The reality is that we need money for this campaign, because the purveyors of threats have loads of it. But we also need people. We need deanery synods that truly represent the people of the Church of England. Deanery synods elect General Synod. I will admit that I really hate General Synod and the way that Synod’s clear will has been ignored. But if we are to make change, we have to win – and win big – in these next elections. It matters for every part of our corporate life, like it or hate it – the election of bishops, the possibility of bringing in Equal Marriage, the way our money is spent, you name it.

    The past two and a half years, since the first LLF motion was passed, have been characterised by a failure of courage, imagination, integrity, theology: and of leadership. We have retreated into being a church of anxiety and fear, shaped by threats and bullying tactics. We have become risk-averse, frustrated, and angry. There has been an immeasurable damage to trust in the institution and in the leadership. We have lost our way.

    But it does not need to be like this, and with God’s grace it won’t be. We – all of us – need to change the narrative, reorient the church’s perspective, and get back to the business of living in love, faith, and hope. We can turn this around. And there is no time like the present to let the Holy Spirit blow afresh, and to turn again to the Lord, and live.

    Weeping may endure for a night: but joy cometh in the morning.

  • Some Things You Never Forget

    by Canon Dr Phil Groves, who was a CMS Mission partner and lecturer in theology at St Philip’s Kongwa in Tanzania. He served at the Anglican Communion Office for 10 years. He has attended two Lambeth Conferences, three Primates’ Meetings and four ACCs. He has a PhD on Partnership in the Anglican Communion. He is dyslexic and a member of the Church of England’s Neurodiversity Working Group.

    For me, one of those moments you never forget was the Dar es Salaam Primates’ Meeting in 2007. It was my first Primates’ Meeting, and I was there to present my report on the “Listening Process on human sexuality.”

    In those days, national newspapers still sent correspondents to cover these meetings, and more than one journalist told me they expected something I said would be the spark that ignited an explosion. No pressure, then!

    When it was time for me to report, the Secretary General sat next to me. I think he intended to offer support, but I could feel him trembling. I could smell his anxiety. I had to tune him out and focus on Archbishop Rowan, who at least looked calm—though I bet he wasn’t.

    Fortunately, I was on home ground. I had lived in Tanzania for six years and had loved every minute of the event so far. The host, Archbishop Donald Mtetemela, was someone I had known for years, and he asked me to help welcome the primates, as he was recovering from malaria. This gave me the chance to befriend almost all of them—most of whom I already knew. I could translate for them, delighting in the chance to speak Kiswahili again.

    Two Archbishops, however, remained unreachable. The Archbishops of Uganda and Nigeria had withdrawn from all social events, worship, and meals. They were essentially living in another part of the hotel, surrounded by a group of mostly white advisors. Archbishop Orombi of Uganda was an old friend—I had once served on his evangelism team for a year—and he gave me a cheery smile. Archbishop Akinola, meanwhile, was reportedly in bed with a headache, which, I admit, came as something of a relief.

    When I was called to speak, I took a breath and charted the progress—such as it was—of the Listening Process across the Communion. I made it clear that the responsibility for responding to Lambeth I.10 was not mine, but theirs. I was simply there to monitor and assist.

    We then discussed a proposed book for the upcoming Lambeth Conference. To everyone’s surprise, the conversation was not only polite, but positive. Both Archbishop Mounir and Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori requested a chapter on the “science” of human attraction. Interestingly, they did so for completely opposite reasons—each believing the evidence would support their view. I hated that chapter, and the “science” proved nothing. But at least they agreed on something.

    Things seemed to be going well—until the Archbishop of Congo, Fidèle Dirokpa, asked to speak. He said he didn’t understand the problem. To him, gays were like any other sinners—no different from thieves or murderers—and we should reach out to them the same way.

    Unless you’re a prison chaplain, you may never have met a murderer. But if you’re from eastern DRC, you might have met a few. Dirokpa was being generous: even murderers can repent and be part of the Church—so why not gays? It seemed so obvious to him, he couldn’t understand why we weren’t all in agreement. Let them repent and fully include them. The response wasn’t anger, but silence.

    Later, Katharine Jefferts Schori would describe this moment as her “low point” of the entire Meeting—despite enduring a session where she had to be defended by other primates from quite personal attacks.

    Dirokpa was puzzled. He was surprised his words found no support. Even his close friend, the Archbishop of Burundi—who had translated for him, since he didn’t speak English—offered no backing.

    After the meeting, Dirokpa—knowing I spoke Kiswahili—pulled me aside. We huddled in a hotel lounge. He wanted to know why his words had fallen flat. Like many African church leaders, he had never knowingly met a gay person. Of course, he had met many gay people, but dominant homophobia in post-colonial African culture ensures that LGBTQI+ individuals often hide—even from themselves.

    This was my job: to enable people in the Church to listen to LGBTQI+ individuals. They didn’t need to agree or disagree—just hear. I wasn’t speaking for anyone, just helping mostly straight Christian leaders open their ears.

    A couple of hours later, he was ready to “listen to the experience of homosexual persons,” and I believe he did take future opportunities to listen and learn. I don’t think he ever accepted same-sex marriage or blessings as right for the Church, but he didn’t campaign for the removal of TEC from the Communion, nor—so far as I know—did he support the criminalisation of gay people. He embraced tolerance, and tolerance is the first step. Without it, we cannot move toward acceptance or celebration.

    I learned that we must keep offering opportunities to listen, rather than take offence and walk away.

    This was echoed by another conversation on the other side of the lounge that same evening. Bishop Jefferts Schori was in deep conversation with the Bishop of Central Tanganyika, one of the largest evangelical dioceses in East Africa—Bishop Mdimi Mohogolo.

    I first met Mohogolo in 1992 and used to play squash with his son (who always beat me). In 1997, he was part of the planning group for the Lambeth Conference and was one of those confronted by ‘Outrage!’ activists in the gardens of Lambeth Palace. After returning to Tanzania, he visited our house and talked about the encounter.

    His words to me have stayed with me:

    “I would much rather have our poverty than your gays.”

    These words were chilling. The poverty in Central Tanzania was and remains devastating. It kills. It is a curse. If you’ve never lived amidst poverty like that, you can’t imagine it. Yet the wonderful gay friends I had from school and university were, to him, a deeper curse.

    And yet—ten years later—this same man was in deep conversation with the Presiding Bishop of TEC, offering support. He advocated for ongoing relationships with TEC within the Tanzanian House of Bishops. Though once an ally of the conservative bloc, particularly through ties with the Diocese of Sydney, he had been on a journey. He had met gay and lesbian Christians, and he had learned tolerance. Again, I never heard him support the blessing of same-sex unions, but he led his diocese into meaningful relationships with TEC—partnerships that bore fruit on both sides. He was instrumental in the majority of Tanzanian bishops rejecting GAFCON.

    To equate being gay with being a murderer—or to see it as a deeper curse than life-threatening poverty—is to dehumanise and diminish an entire group of people. It contradicts the agreed statement of the Primates at Dromantine:

    “The victimisation or diminishment of human beings whose affections happen to be ordered towards people of the same sex is anathema to us.”

    When you dehumanise, you open the door to criminalisation.

    The way forward is to listen to LGBTQI+ people as friends. Then “homosexuality” ceases to be an “issue”—first order or otherwise.

    If you dehumanise a whole group, you can justify their criminalisation. “Homosexuality” becomes a curse to be eliminated. That is what has happened in Nigeria. Western advocates once told the press that the Archbishop there quietly opposed the anti-gay law. But in Dar that week, I had a chance to ask him directly.

    We were alone in his official room. I asked about the law. He was clear: he had instigated it and supported it fully. He wanted gays in prison. He supported restricting freedom of speech and the right to assembly so that LGBTQI+ people and their allies could never organise. I was shocked—but not surprised.

    If you see LGBTQI+ people as akin to murderers or more cursed than those starving and homeless, you have dehumanised them. And, once dehumanised, they can be silenced and imprisoned.

    The same happened in Uganda. Members of the Anglican Church were instrumental in pushing through shocking legislation. The effect of that legislation went beyond simple law with the persecution of gay people and the murder of David Kato, which was unequivocally condemned by a later Primates’ Meeting.

    And so to the present debates in the Church of England. A CEEC briefing paper suggests that those opposed to LLF can counter the argument that it is “not credal” by saying:

    “There are plenty of things not mentioned in the Creeds but upon which we would not be willing to accept any level of disagreement (e.g. murder). In short, the argument ‘it is not credal’ does not mean that we can simply have different views.”

    Apart from the obvious response that while murder is not in the Creeds it is one of the Ten Commandments, the real issue is that this kind of reasoning treats LGBTQI+ identity as an issue.

    I welcome the presence of those who disagree with me on the legitimacy of same-gender unions. But we must remember that we are talking about people—human beings.

    To be clear, the CEEC and Anglican Alliance have issued sincere statements condemning anti-gay laws in Nigeria and Uganda. But I see little action to match the words—and I wonder why.

    These laws were promoted by their Anglican allies. They have withdrawn from worship with those of us who promote equal marriage, yet I don’t see them threatening to withdraw from communion with those who promote violence toward gay people. They rejoice in partnerships with churches that have enacted hate-driven laws, while lamenting that Nigerians and Ugandans aren’t represented on the CNC for Canterbury. I know they oppose these laws—but I suspect they do not see them as a first order issue, rather a “cultural difference.”

    The true divide in the Anglican Communion is between those who see “homosexuality” as an issue, and those who engage with human beings of all sexualities—straight and gay—seeking to live and love in the way of Christ.

    For some, following in the steps of Archbishop Dirokpa and Bishop Mohogolo, this may mean continuing to oppose the blessing of same-sex unions—yet listening, respecting, and refusing to break Communion with those they disagree with.

    For others, like me, we believe that God calls both straight and gay people into permanent, faithful, stable, and joyful relationships. We are not issues—we are beloved people of God.

    “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

     

  • Smoke and Mirrors and the Alliance

    by Nic Tall, National Co-ordinator of Together for the Church of England

    The House of Bishops has just met to discuss, among other things, the latest steps in the drawn out Living in Love and Faith process. Current discussion points include whether clergy should be allowed to marry their same sex partner while receiving a licence to minister, how the Prayers of Love and Faith for blessing couples in a same sex relationship can be implemented, and what provision needs to be made for those of differing views in this complex and contested area. A letter to the Bishops written by a group called the Alliance, who oppose the full inclusion of LGBTQIA+ people and their relationships into the life of the Church, has also become public.

    The Alliance letter makes the interesting claim that it “continues to grow numerically with 2360 clergy whose churches currently represent 42% of the Church of England’s average Sunday attendance and 53% of all under eighteen-year-olds within the Church of England.” Some online commentary has been taken aback by these numbers and the suggestion that the Alliance are supported by so many rank-and-file pew-filling Anglicans. But the numbers are not quite what they seem. I therefore thought it would be useful to dig into the numbers, show the unresolved questions around them, and place them into the wider context so you can make your own mind up about the current state of the Church of England and any likely dissent from the use of the Prayers of Love and Faith – prayers which, of course, nobody is obliged to use.

    First, who are the Alliance? Their website describes them as “an informal partnership of leaders from networks within the Church of England”. Most of these networks are of a conservative or charismatic evangelical flavour. In previous letters written by the Alliance there have been around 25 to 30 signatories, with the qualifying statement that “all signatories are leaders of networks/organisations but are signing in their personal capacities, recognising they cannot claim to speak for everyone that they lead.”

    The Alliance are also a limited company, the most recent letter having been signed by its directors. Of those seven directors, two are on the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) including the CEEC National Director, one is a Regional Director with New Wine, three have links to the HTB (Holy Trinity Brompton) church planting network and one Chairs the Traditional Catholic Group on General Synod. That balance of directors shows that it is substantially being driven by the HTB network, and one point that is far from clear is how far CEEC statements are also Alliance statements.

    It is a big stretch to get from seven directors and around 30 signatories to 2360 clergy, so where does that figure come from? The Alliance website has a section inviting clergy and laity to “join with the Alliance”. The form to fill out includes the proviso that “we will not assume you speak on behalf of your whole church.” The first page is for personal details, including the church they attend, the diocese it is in and if they are clergy, lay ministers or other laity. The second page has just two questions, only for clergy and licenced lay ministers: “Your church’s average adult Sunday attendance” and “Your church’s average under-18s attendance”. The final page asks them if they agree to the Theological Vision published by seven conservative bishops and if they support the ongoing work of the Alliance.

    I assume that this sign-up form is the source of the 2360 clergy, along with the stats for their congregation and under-18s. In June 2024 the Alliance stated they had “over 2000” clergy, which has now become “2360 clergy” in October 2024; does this limited growth imply that the Alliance numbers are plateauing? And what does “clergy” mean here? It should not be assumed that they are all incumbents leading churches. The number could also include curates, non-stipendiary ministers, chaplains, clergy in other work and retired clergy, who may or may not hold a Permission to Officiate. Given that there are approximately 20,000 active clergy in the Church of England across all roles, that means over 17,000 have not indicated their support for the Alliance. And how many separate churches are covered by the 2360 clergy, given that there can be more than one priest licenced to a church? For example, the National Register of Clergy lists 37 clergy licenced to the parish of Holy Trinity Brompton. So it is difficult to know just what the 2360 clergy represent in terms of their roles or the churches they minister in.

    What we can be sure of is that these clergy do not represent everyone in their churches. The statement at the top of the sign-up form affirmed that. So it’s strange that the latest Alliance letter closely links these clergy of unspecified role with “42% of the Church of England’s average Sunday attendance and 53% of all under eighteen-year-olds within the Church of England”. But it’s clear that not all in a church under conservative leadership share their leaders’ views. The false assumption that they do was challenged in an article in the Church Times in January 2024 about members of HTB network churches; one priest stated how the leadership were ignoring different perspectives, with “many keeping quiet out of fear for repercussions”.

    The statement regarding 53% of under-18s is also strange, given that most toddlers I speak to hold no firm views on church politics or the theology of interpersonal relationships. Yet it is repeated on social media without any challenge. As for the teenagers within that 53%, are they all fully behind the stance of the Alliance? Having met teenagers from Gen Z, I highly doubt it. The notion that young people are staying away from the Church of England because it isn’t homophobic enough doesn’t bear much scrutiny. One reason many conservative churches aren’t open about the vicar’s views on LGBTQIA+ relationships (and sometimes also on women’s ministry) is that they know the younger generation just wouldn’t wear it.

    As for the claim to have 42% of average Sunday attendance, how is that calculated? Do the Alliance add up those figures from the people signing up on their website, compare it with the national statistics for ministry, and calculate a percentage from the two? This is unlikely to be comparing like with like. Some filling out the Alliance form will have given an optimistic estimate, rather than the more detailed count required for the national figures. If two clergy from the same church sign up and give different figures (the Vicar says 150 per Sunday, the curate says 120) which figure is used? The more optimistic one, of course. There is no guarantee that there hasn’t been double counting, adding in the figures given for Sunday attendance for every priest signing up, even if some are from the same church. It is clearly not a reliable percentage, given that the number of people allegedly attending the churches connected to the 2360 clergy are unlikely to have been calculated on the same basis as the national figure for average Sunday attendance.

    The next question is just what have the 2360 clergy signed up to? Page 3 of the sign-up form includes both the conservative theological statement and also support for “the ongoing work of the Alliance”. The theological statement is straightforward enough, but it does not contain a programme of action or assert any of the measures the Alliance say they feel are necessary. And what is that “ongoing work of the Alliance”? There is currently no single document on the Alliance website that lays out their position. There are the letters written, mostly to the House of Bishops, which offer hints reiterating what has been requested in other places (e.g. separate bishops, separate training for ordinands, the formation of a separate province for conservative clergy). Much of this develops over the course of the letters, so it is not clear whether clergy signing in support in the early days would offer support to the measures being requested many months later. So those unhappy with the commendation of the Prayers of Love and Faith, but who have no intention of leaving the Church over them, may not realise that signing is being taken to support demands for formal structural and legal change as a condition of remaining.

    While the Alliance may not have a single paper in the public domain outlining their demands, there is one published by the CEEC from 2024 titled “What do we need”. This lays out their demands clearly and in one document, and some of these are echoed in later Alliance letters. It demands a legally secure structure with separate bishops, separate finance, separate vocations and ordinations, separate training, separate deaneries and dioceses, separate safeguarding, and more. They present this as a plan to maintain “unity” in the Church of England but it reads instead as partition into two separate churches under one roof. The main points of contact between these two entities would be the conservative province retaining access to funding and continuing to be represented on General Synod. It is as if I said to my wife “we can only stay married if I live in another country, never speak to you, but still have access to the bank account”. There is no requirement for the 2360 clergy indicating support to the Alliance to have read, let alone accept, this schismatic programme outlined by the CEEC.

    What we do know, however, is that the scale of ambition of the Alliance is not being met. As I reported at the end of last year, there were grand plans to recruit 3000 churches representing more than half of the Church of England’s worshipping members. Evangelical clergy were receiving direct approaches encouraging them to take part, including signing up for the Ephesian Fund and Overseers schemes launched by the CEEC. These schemes are intended to divide the church, using finance and walking away from diocesan bishops as leverage.

    However, a CEEC newsletter in September 2024 revealed that they had not even reached 500 clergy or churches subscribing to these schemes. John Dunnett, CEEC National Director, wrote:

    “We will be encouraging more churches and clergy to take action to show their concern about the current direction of travel. We would love to see 500 churches paying their parish share through the Ephesian Fund and 500 clergy receiving the alternative spiritual oversight being facilitated by CEEC.”

    It should be noted that signing up for the Overseer scheme, rejecting the pastoral provision of your own diocesan bishop in favour of someone appointed by the CEEC, does not require a priest to receive the approval of their PCC. It is also open to those who already receive alternative episcopal oversight from the Bishop of Ebbsfleet due to rejecting the ordained or episcopal ministry of women. In such instances the CEEC would recommend oversight be provided by the Bishop of Ebbsfleet, who currently has oversight of around 140 parishes. This seems very odd; in order to inflate their numbers to reach 500 parishes opting for extra episcopal oversight, is the CEEC asking those who already receive it from the Bishop of Ebbsfleet to reject the Bishop of Ebbsfleet so they can be assigned to the Bishop of Ebbsfleet and therefore count as a dissenting parish under the Overseers scheme? Yet more smoke and mirrors from the CEEC.

    This autumn, the Ephesian Fund is being further promoted by the CEEC so their “call for negotiation can get louder and more impactful”. Rather than being a last ditch means to facilitate those who feel they can no longer pay their parish share, some 18 months after Synod made a clear vote for LLF in February 2024 the CEEC are having to stir up discontent and persuade parishes that this is something they need to consider. Originally the rationale for the Fund was so that parishes can keep giving financially to the Church of England (although with the money channelled to the “right” sort of churches), but now it is being presented as a way of applying political pressure on the bishops. Concerns about this weaponizing of church finances for political ends have been raised by Together for the Church of England, who have released this briefing paper for PCC members being asked to consider the Ephesian Fund. Such careful consideration is needed; while I was writing this article, I heard of one large charismatic church whose income dropped by £50k after the incumbent announced he was taking the conservative line. PCC members being encouraged down this route should be warned.

    In conclusion, the claims made by the latest Alliance letter need to be questioned and put into wider context. My reading of these claims is that a plateauing number of clergy of undisclosed role from an uncertain number of churches, who do not speak for all their congregations, have signed up to support a conservative theological statement and an unarticulated practical response to the LLF programme. Remember that such clergy are not, and never will be, required to use the Prayers of Love and Faith and will be able to operate in full conscience in the Church of England as they always have done. For most, such assurances are sufficient. Meanwhile the CEEC and the Allianceå are trying to overinflate the impression of widespread dissatisfaction at all levels within the Church, because their aim is to reach a structural split which signals schism in everything but access to resources. That so many have not joined up shows that the Alliance may be a broad coalition, but only a fraction of that coalition are moving to take action in forming the so-called “de facto province”.

    What is so sad here is that the rest of the Church of England, the majority, has already made significant allowances to accommodate differences of conscience over same sex relationships. It really is time we accepted this and moved on. The Church has other issues to deal with. The General Synod has voted by a majority in all three Houses on three separate occasions to implement greater inclusion for LGBTQIA+ people, including welcoming the use of the Prayers of Love and Faith. Fighting a continual last-ditch attempt to restrict the freedom of LGBTQIA+ people to love who they love and to serve in the Church as they are called is not helping anyone.

     

  • Celibacy and Conscience

    by Professor Morwenna Ludlow, a historian, theologian and priest, specialising in historical theology. She is Professor of Christian Theology at the University of Exeter and Canon Theologian at Exeter Cathedral

    The question of how Christians understand celibacy has not gone away. Recent debates over Living and Love and Faith (LLF) in the July 2024 sessions of the General Synod of the Church of England show that. But this time, the issue of celibacy seemed to me to be tied to the question of the protection of conscience. It’s this connection I want to unpick here.

    In our General Synod debates, I continue to be moved by the testimonies of those who speak about their conviction that they are called to a life of celibacy. (These have, so far as I recall, all been speakers who have also stated they are sexually attracted to those of the same sex.[1] I would love also to hear testimony about the vocation of celibacy from heterosexual Christians!) I do not think that I am in position to question their sense of vocation. In good conscience, that is not my call to make. As a heterosexual woman in a long, happy and fulfilling marriage, which began with a ceremony in my parish church, there is especially an imperative on me not to be too quick in my judgment.

    Where I baulk, however, is when I hear some claim that their conscience should determine not just their own, but other people’s behaviour. There are two related ideas here. First, there is the idea that a conscientious restraint on one person’s part should be universalised to a demand for restraint by all who find themselves in a similar position – in this case, the idea that all lesbian and gay Christians should commit to celibacy. But, as I argued in an earlier blog, the church’s consistent, scriptural and traditional teaching (i.e. doctrine) of celibacy is that it should be a freely willed response to God’s call, not a demand placed on all. Second, there is the idea – put forward notably by the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) – that the consciences of those who hold the conservative position should be protected by the provision of “a permanent structural rearrangement resulting in visible differentiation” from the rest of the Church of England.[2]

    But this second idea seems to me to involve the unexamined movement between several related positions:

    (a) In good conscience, person x believes that they can neither have an active sexual relationship outside heterosexual marriage, nor take positive steps which would condone or welcome such relationships (e.g. like offering the Prayers of Love and Faith for same-sex couples);

    (b) The conscience of x is troubled by those in their church who do have an active sexual relationship outside heterosexual marriage, or who take positive steps which would condone or welcome such relationships;

    (c) Person x has the right for their conscience to be protected from being troubled in this way.

    Points (a) and (b) are statements of fact; point (c) makes an ethical demand. In brief, I certainly think that the church and its members should acknowledge (a) by ensuring that no-one has to act against their conscience with respect either to their own intimate relationships or in offering prayers of blessing for others (and the current proposals are emphatic on this point). I also think that it would be wise for those like me to recognise the depth of feeling surrounding point (b): I may disagree with the conservative position, but I need to acknowledge the way these questions are bound up with profound aspects of faith like the interpretation of Scripture and understandings of holiness. I can acknowledge the depth of hurt, while considering its cause to rest on a misunderstanding of the gospel. Nevertheless, it is possible to recognise point (b), without conceding the demand in (c). The question is: precisely what purchase should troubled consciences have on the rest of the church? 

    It might be helpful here to reflect briefly on the role of conscience in theological ethics.[3] Broadly speaking, the Reformed tradition has been cautious about the role of conscience seen as a natural faculty because conscience, like other faculties, has been impaired by the fall. My conscience is subject to distortion by pride, selfishness and lack of attention to the other, especially those others who are vulnerable. At best my conscience can skew my moral judgment; far worse, it can become an instrument of ‘godless self-justification’ as I put my ‘personal innocence’ above my responsibility for my neighbour.[4] For this reason, theologians in the Reformed tradition see conscience not so much as a natural faculty but as that point of encounter between God and myself in the time and place I find myself in, in the world. Conscience then becomes the recognition, through grace, of God’s demand on me – or, to put it another way, the discernment of God’s call to be who God wants me to be right here and right now. This call might be addressed to me as an individual or to a community – the church.

    But what if we disagree? This question is sharp because the possession of a troubled conscience is not unique to those holding the conservative position on LLF. My conscience is deeply troubled by the fact that I am not just part of, but I am a priest in a church which I believe not to be including LGBTQIA+ people as I believe it ought. My conscience is troubled by the church’s treatment of people who are very dear to me. My conscience is troubled by the fact that, as a married heterosexual priest, I am part of a system which treats me better than it treats many LGBTQIA+ priests.

    So where might we look to resolve our disagreement on conscience? Reference is sometimes made by conservative evangelicals to Romans 14:14-15 and 1 Corinthians 8, where Paul insists that the conscience of ‘weaker’ believers to be protected. I am not sure that reference to this passage is helpful for our current disagreements. The issue in Romans and 1 Corinthians concerns beliefs circulating about the effects of eating certain kinds of food: some believers thought that eating food sacrificed to idols (or food which might be thought to have been sacrificed to idols) would imperil their salvation. But Paul is clear that he thinks that these ‘weaker brethren’ are wrong in their belief: ‘Hence, as to the eating of food offered to idols, we know that “no idol in the world really exists” and that “there is no God but one.” …. “It is not everyone, however, who has this knowledge. Since some have become so accustomed to idols until now, they still think of the food they eat as food offered to an idol, and their conscience, being weak, is defiled’ (1 Cor. 8:4-7). So any use of these passages to urge the protection of one’s position as a weaker sibling is implicitly acknowledging that one might be wrong, whilst also placing a demand on oneself to protect the conscience of those whom one believes to be wrong. Secondly, these passages are about what kinds of food are permissible, which is very different from questions of how to treat our LGBTQIA+ sisters and brothers. Thirdly, Paul begins Romans 14 with an absolutely explicit call for mutual compassion: ‘Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables. Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat, for God has welcomed them.’ Fourthly, Paul seems to be addressing issues in local communities, not making pronouncements for the whole church. In essence, the current proposals from the House of Bishops already allow for our ‘weaker’ siblings, in that they clearly allow priests and communities who do not wish to use the Prayers of Love and Faith not to use them.

    Where else might we look to learn about conscience? Because the term ‘conscience’ (suneid?sis) does not appear in the gospels we are perhaps in danger of leaving Jesus out of our accounts. If conscience is understood in God’s call to me, perhaps I should reflect on the way in which Jesus’ words frequently jolt his hearers’ out of their comfortable assumptions about their own virtue (the rich young man, those bringing the woman accused of adultery) or highlight the ever-present danger of hypocrisy and pride (the Sermon on the Mount). (I deliberately use ‘I’ here, for the danger of self-righteousness lies on both ‘sides’ of the debate.) Such encounters explain why theologians in the Reformed tradition write of conscience not as a natural faculty, but as the discernment of God’s demand on us. Conscience in this sense does not come ready-packaged; rather ‘individual moral judgement requires moulding by the believing community and its educative, pastoral, sacramental, disciplinary and therapeutic practices’.[5] This includes our reading and reflection on Scripture and a prayerful deepening of our understanding of the world. On this understanding, conscience cannot be something to be protected; rather, we are called to expose our consciences – to the gospel, to Jesus’ uncomfortable call on us, and to the messy realities of our complicated world.

    By contrast, I am hearing calls from conservative evangelicals for their consciences to be protected. These calls amount in some cases to the demand to be protected from being in full communion with those who are using PLF or who are in same-sex marriages – as if being in full communion places too great a strain on their conscience. This seems to me to be in danger of treating conscience the wrong way. Far from being the place of encounter with the call of Jesus Christ on my life, this view of conscience seems to treat it as a thing of holiness to be polished and protected. This could be understood in two ways (and I suspect that both are in play). First, conscience is understood as a pure thing to be saved from taint. Underlying this are ideas of impurity, which so often creep into Christian discussions of sex – especially when it’s women or LGBTQIA+ people whose sexual activity we are discussing. Does the idea of protecting one’s conscience (‘keeping one’s conscience clean’) presume that in fact all sexual activity, and especially sexual pleasure, is dirty – which is why it must be contained in (heterosexual) marriage and, if at all possible, redeemed by the birth of children? Second, conscience is understood as a fortress to be defended from attack, ‘that inmost citadel of the personality, where the self is… king of its own castle, uncorrupted by the compromises and pressures of the crowd’.[6] On this understanding, the exposure of the self to the ‘crowd’ imperils its very identity.

    Both understandings of why the conscience needs to be protected – a holy thing to be preserved from taint, a fortress to be protected from attack – help explain why feelings are so raw. But neither seem to me to reflect a good theological understanding of conscience as that point of encounter between God and myself. If attention to conscience means responding to Christ’s call on us, I don’t think that God wants us to focus on preserving our holiness – at least, not holiness understood in this narrow sense of protection from taint. God’s holiness does not withdraw from the reality of the world but is immersed in it. Neither do I believe that we need to preserve our identity from attack, for our identity has a sure foundation in our baptism in Jesus Christ.

    God’s call to holiness, it seems to me, calls on us to step into that crowd outside the castle walls, that place where Jesus walked and talked and prayed and ate. Sometimes that means we have to eat with people who disagree with us on issues so painful that our hearts are raw. But if my conscience is found in my encounter with Christ, it is formed precisely in my encounter with all those whom he came to love.

     

    Notes

    [1] I am trying to echo the language they themselves have used in recognition that, while many are happy to identify as LGBTQIA+, for others this is difficult.

    [2] See https://ceec.info/keepingfaith/: “What does the CEEC suggest as a way forward? CEEC remains committed to the highest degree of unity possible within the truth and doctrine of the Church of England. However, we believe that the current proposals will prevent us from walking together and promote disunity, even schism. It is clear that the strength of feeling amongst parties with differing convictions indicates that we have to find a better way forward. CEEC will continue to advocate a settlement, without theological compromise, based on a permanent structural rearrangement resulting in visible differentiation.”

    [3] I approach this topic from the perspective of the Reformed tradition, because that is where the most vocal defenders of the conservative position seem to be speaking from. The issue is treated somewhat differently by ethicists in other traditions. The authors I cite on the topic of conscience should not be assumed to agree with my position on sexual ethics.

    [4] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2009), 278, 276.

    [5] John Webster, ‘God and Conscience’, in The Doctrine of God and Theological Ethics, ed. Alan J. Torrance and Michael Banner (London: Bloomsbury T & T Clark, 2006), 152.

    [6] Henry Chadwick, Some Reflections on Conscience: Greek, Jewish and Christian (London: Council of Christians and Jews, 1968), p. 5, quoted by Webster, 152.

  • Where is the Colour? The CEEC Commissioning of Overseers: A Theological and Ecclesiological Critique

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

    The recent commissioning of overseers by the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) necessitates a critical theological and ecclesiological examination. This decision appears to undermine both the doctrinal foundations of the Church of England and its commitment to inclusivity and diversity. This article will explore the theological implications, the postcolonial context, and the historical and current Church of England stances on diversity, arguing that the CEEC’s actions reflect a troubling trend of white elitism. Regardless of one’s position on the structures that the CEEC has chosen – personally, I disagree with them – the lack of racial awareness remains an important issue.

    Theological Foundations and Ecclesiological Implications

    The doctrine of the Church of England is grounded in the principles of inclusivity, universality, and the imago Dei—the belief that all humans are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). This foundational doctrine calls the Church to embrace and reflect the diversity of God’s creation. The Apostle Paul’s teaching in Galatians 3:28 underscores this inclusive vision: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

    However, the CEEC’s recent commissioning of exclusively white overseers starkly contradicts these theological tenets. By failing to represent the rich diversity of the global Anglican Communion, the CEEC undermines the universality of the Church and perpetuates a form of ecclesiastical homogeneity that is theologically untenable.

    Postcolonial Critique and the Legacy of Colonialism

    A postcolonial analysis illuminates the CEEC’s recent actions as reminiscent of colonial practices that prioritize white, European leadership while marginalizing non-white voices. The insistence on “orthodox” bishops, purportedly to align with the theological stances of Black, Brown, and Asian Anglicans, is profoundly ironic, given that none of the appointed overseers come from these communities. Instead this practice perpetuates a colonialist framework where theological and ecclesiastical leadership is dominated by white elites, effectively silencing the diverse voices within the Anglican Communion.

    According to the CEEC, these are the first overseers to be commissioned, with more to follow. However, an article in Anglican Ink reveals that those to be commissioned later have already been chosen, a fact that raises concerns about inclusivity and transparency. Despite the presence of a few Global Majority Heritage (GMH) individuals on the CEEC Board of Trustees, this issue seems to have been overlooked. This could be due to a phenomenon some theologians describe as Theological Stockholm Syndrome, where marginalized individuals align with and support their oppressors’ frameworks and structures.

    This critique echoes the sentiment expressed by African American activist and writer Audre Lorde, who famously stated, “For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master’s house as their only source of support” (Lorde, 1984). The trustees appear to have been co-opted by the very tools of colonialism rather than seeking the liberation of others.

    In other words, they have succumbed to a role reminiscent of the “Uncle Tom” figure in African American vernacular, serving the interests of the dominant group at the expense of their communities. This dynamic underscores the urgent need for a truly inclusive and representative ecclesiastical leadership within the Church of England.

    For some time now, evangelical Anglicans – when arguing about unity within the Anglican communion – have used disagreements on LGBTQIA+ inclusion to say the Church of England is ignoring the voices of the so-called “Global South”. It is persons with more of an inclusive/progressive view on sexuality and gender identity who have been called racist or who have been claimed by conservatives to be demonstrating a colonial way of thinking.  Yet the framework that was put together is a farce. As a black man who is gay and evangelical, it saddens me that my siblings in Christ would use such a horrible tactic.

    For instance, as a black American man who can trace my lineage directly to slavery, I feel extremely uncomfortable with the word “overseers”. As many Anglicans would know, overseers were used to keep the enslaved blacks in check, to make sure they would not follow their conscience and be moved by the Spirit for freedom. Overseers were harsh white men from a privileged class that would propagate violence and torture against people that looked like me. Overseers would be the very drivers of enslavement. But if it is claimed that this is simply a word from the Bible, then it is translating episkopos; but that means they are Bishops! Therefore, which one is it?

    Kwok Pui-lan’s postcolonial theological framework critiques the Western-centric dominance in ecclesiastical structures, advocating for a decolonized approach that genuinely incorporates and values the perspectives of Christians from the Global South. The CEEC’s actions, therefore, can be seen as a continuation of colonial patterns of exclusion and control, rather than a move towards true inclusivity and representation.

    Historical and Current Stances on Diversity

    Historically, the Church of England has struggled with issues of racial and cultural inclusion. The Lambeth Conference of 1988 recognized the need for the Church to repent of its complicity in racism and colonialism, calling for greater inclusivity within its structures. More recently, the “Lament to Action” report highlighted the persistent racial inequalities within the Church of England, urging systemic changes to address these injustices.

    Despite these acknowledgements and calls to action, the CEEC’s commissioning of an all-white overseer body demonstrates a significant lapse in the Church’s commitment to these goals. This move not only disregards the recommendations of the “Lament to Action” report but also undermines the Church’s public witness to racial justice and equality.

    White Elitism and Ecclesiastical Purity

    The theological justification for an all-white overseer body under the guise of maintaining orthodoxy is a manifestation of white elitism. This elitism privileges white theological perspectives and leadership, marginalizing the rich theological contributions of Black, Brown, and Asian Anglicans. Such a stance is antithetical to the inclusive vision of the Gospel and the ecclesiological commitment to the catholicity of the Church.

    The Church of England’s commitment to being a national church requires it to reflect the diversity of the nation it serves. The homogeneous composition of the CEEC overseers fails to embody this national and theological mandate, suggesting a retreat into a narrow, exclusionary vision of the Church that is more concerned with preserving white dominance than with embodying the inclusive love of Christ.

    Not Reflecting the Vision of a Younger and More Diverse Church

    Prominent theologian Paul Avis has consistently emphasized the importance of the Church being a community that embodies the diversity and unity of the body of Christ. The Church of England has been striving to be younger and more diverse, a theme central to its mission in contemporary society. This vision aims to ensure that the Church is relevant and reflective of the multifaceted nature of the population it serves, both in England and globally.

    The CEEC’s decision to commission an exclusively white group of overseers starkly contrasts with this goal too. It suggests a failure to engage with and integrate the younger, more diverse demographics that are vital for the Church’s future. The Church of England is attempting to move beyond its historical legacy of exclusion and to foster a community where all are represented and valued. By ignoring the vibrant, diverse voices within the Anglican Communion, the CEEC undermines this essential mission and risks alienating younger generations who seek a Church that is inclusive and representative of all God’s people.

    A Call to Action

    The commissioning of the CEEC overseers must therefore serve as a wake-up call for the Church of England. It is imperative that the Church actively works to dismantle structures of white elitism and to foster a genuinely inclusive leadership that reflects the diversity of the Anglican Communion. This requires not only appointing “overseers” from diverse racial and cultural backgrounds but also engaging in deep, systemic change to ensure that all voices are heard and valued. I disagree with my siblings in Christ, and yes, I call them siblings because even though I strongly disagree, I have love and respect for them as people who are co-heirs with Christ.

    Theological orthodoxy is not about maintaining a narrow, exclusionary vision of the Church. It is about embodying the fullness of the Gospel, which calls us to love, inclusivity, and justice. As we move forward, let us commit to a vision of the Church that truly reflects the diversity of God’s creation and the inclusive nature of the Gospel.

    References:

    1. CEEC Overseers Commissioned in London for the Church of England
    2. Bishop of Oxford Rejects the Alliance’s Call for a Third Province Should LLF be Introduced
    3. “Lament to Action” Report, Church of England, 2021.
    4. Kwok Pui-lan, Postcolonial Imagination and Feminist Theology, Westminster John Knox Press, 2005.
    5. The Lambeth Conference Reports, 1988.
    6. Paul Avis, The Identity of Anglicanism: Essentials of Anglican Ecclesiology, T&T Clark, 2008.
    7. Paul Avis, In Search of Authority: Anglican Theological Method from the Reformation to the Enlightenment, Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2014.

     

  • Persona non grata: an Unwelcoming Encounter at All Souls, Langham Place

    by Anon.

    Today, at lunchtime, I embarked on a short walk to All Souls, Langham Place, with the hopeful intention of attending their 12:00 service—a Commissioning of Overseers for alternative spiritual oversight within the Church of England, followed by a light lunch.

    Unfortunately, what awaited me was not the spiritual solace I had expected but rather an unanticipated and disappointing encounter. As I stepped through the church’s historic doors, I was abruptly informed that my name was not on the list, making me ineligible to join the service. To make matters even more depressing, the staff turned cold and unwelcoming.

    This unexpected denial left me deeply disappointed. All Souls had effectively deemed me persona non grata.

    Today’s incident shows a definitive shutting of the doors to listening to one another by the Conservative Evangelical faction, which is sad, especially when it even extends to random Anglicans and passers-by. It highlights not only a rather sorry state of ecclesial affairs more broadly but, more importantly, a concerning aspect of CEEC’s modus operandi. I struggle to see it in any other way than as building a fortress within the Church of England. No analogy comes to mind other than that resembling a Trojan Horse.

    As a faithful Anglican, I was eager to gain first-hand experience of their service. Although I do not agree with the conservative evangelical position in relation to the LLF debate, we are members of the same church, and what better way to express my commitment to staying together, despite our differences, than by attending their service and being with my fellow Anglicans?

    The organisers’ decision to restrict access based on an invitation list seems antithetical to the inclusive and welcoming spirit that should characterise a place of worship, especially one within the Church of England. It is hard to see how this is not, in addition, illegal. If anything can be said about the Church of England’s policies based on today’s encounter, it is that they are far from universally applied, and CEEC seems to follow its own rules, not ones to which I am accustomed.

    This raises important questions about the nature of hospitality and openness within the ‘conservative’ circles. While logistical concerns and safety protocols may necessitate certain measures, it is crucial that they do not alienate or exclude those genuinely seeking engagement and spiritual connection, within the boundaries of respect and consideration for all attendees. But I struggle to see how I could offend anyone by simply being there and praying together? Unless, of course, my very being is deemed offensive.

    As I reflect on this experience, I hope that CEEC, along with their overseers (listed here, with some of them also having been on the panel to select them) whom I did not get a chance to congratulate, take a closer look at their approach to inclusivity, and that the Bishops of the Church of England will step up to protect and preserve the Church.

    May the doors of our church be wide enough to welcome all who need love and friendship.

    May its threshold be no stumbling block to young or old.

    May this church be, for all who enter, the doorway to Your eternal kingdom.

    Such is the Church of England, my spiritual home, and it is such an understanding of our unity and ecclesiology that I will fight to preserve.

    Your faithful sibling in Christ.

  • Power Games: Redemptive Violence or Redemptive Love?

    by Simon Friend, a property developer and lay member of General Synod and part of HTB/New Wine churches for the last 40 years; he is one of the conveners of The Evangelical Forum on General Synod

    The latest response from the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) to the latest set of proposals put forward to General Synod for the July 2024 sessions in York repeats a familiar tone from them that has echoed round the Synod chamber and the endless days of meetings many of us have been involved with, really ever since Shared Conversations in 2015. The message is No… No…. No…. No. The proposals and letters from various Bishops published just recently in Premier Christianity and by The Society of St Wilfred and St Hilda make the same, and now rather tiring suggestion, that we “need more time”. But I certainly get the feeling that no matter how much time we spend on this – the answer will still be No….. No…. No.

    Let me take just one point from CEEC’s June 21st statement: “…we do not believe this is an ‘agree to disagree’ issue – because the bible is clear that you cannot bless a sexually active relationship outside of male/female marriage.”

    So let’s be clear. This is about who is having sex with whom and who has the right to judge what is biblical in these matters. Many of us have been highlighting that this is the core issue we need to debate. Is sex outside of marriage of one man with one woman a ‘first order’ or as some would call it, a ‘salvation’ issue? I addressed this in my speech during the LLF debate in February this year. Here is what I said:

    “It’s clear that this drive for structural provision has at the root of it the doctrinal question: ‘Is sex outside of marriage of one man and one woman a 1st order salvation issue?’

    I am wondering what it is about this one particular aspect of the purity code, which has now become some sort of boundary marker of true faith; whereas justice, poverty, war, or the environment don’t seem to generate anything like the heat they should for us as Christians.

    Personally, I blame the doctrine of Original Sin. The Augustinian view of Original Sin that bound Adam and Eve’s action into a narrative of sexual shame intimately involved with The Fall. As John Gibson wrote back in 1981: “It’s high time that the doctrine of original sin in the sense of a sexually transmitted guilt going back to a primal guilty pair was abandoned” (John C. L. Gibson, Genesis, Volume 1, 1981, p.178).

    Original Sin wasn’t about sex. Nor should who’s having sex with whom in 2024 be cast as a ‘first order’ issue; something to tear the church apart over by making ‘structural provision’.

    The original sin was eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

    Funny isn’t it, that the one thing God asked us not to do – we can’t help but do, even all these millennia later. To know good and evil – well, that’s power, isn’t it? Something that elevates us to the status of gods, giving us mastery over mere mortals. And we are called to pay attention to power. Especially the use of the power of what we think is right or wrong.

    I wonder why God said – don’t eat this fruit. You will surely die.

    As Brueggemann writes: “No one dies in this text. This is not a reflection on death but a troubled, anxiety-ridden life. That is a greater problem than death.” (Walter Brueggemann, Genesis: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, 1982, p.252).

    We’ve been suffering this sort of living death ever since; devising mechanisms like scapegoating where we conveniently project the corruptness within our own hearts onto whoever we suppose to be more sinful over there; and banish them to the ‘structurally differentiated’ desert (or, as others would put it, the ‘pastorally provisioned desert!). And that makes us feel so much better. Doesn’t it?

    Sex isn’t the Original Sin. The use of the power of knowledge of good and evil to judge, split, condemn, and cast out the other – that’s Original Sin.”

    When I said this at Synod, it was around this point that I crashed into my 3 minute warning. I’d been intending to go on to say:

    “As Christians we believe that Jesus made himself the final scapegoat so that this cycle of shaming would end. So why can’t we let go? Why do we cling on to Redemptive Violence like a survival instinct – convinced it’s our prerogative and role to be the arbiters of right and wrong?

    When Jesus came, he resisted constantly this basic human need to judge and shame the other. He showed us the way of Redemptive Love intentionally drawing in those on the margins of society – the outsiders.

    It’s time we addressed this “sex and who is having sex” as a ‘first order’ salvation issue.

    I urge you to resist this amendment for structural provision.”

    And where are we now, in July? What has changed? If we just keep hearing the language of No…. No…. No… after all these years in which many people have put in huge amounts of effort to produce endless resources and workshops and endless group discussions … then really I think we need to ask the hard question: “How are we going to end this cycle of shaming and scapegoating if people keep using language which assumes a position of knowledge of what is right and wrong to judge, split and condemn – even cast others into some structurally differentiated part of the church?”

    So, I challenge the CEEC to ponder on this original sin and ask some self-reflective questions about how they, and indeed all of us, use a ‘knowledge of right and wrong’ when God clearly sets out from the beginning that that is precisely what we should not do. I challenge CEEC and The Alliance to reflect on how using their position of power in the Church of England, which they clearly have, is morally acceptable when it comes to the latest threat expressed in The Alliance letter of 26th June: “We will have no choice but rapidly to establish what would in effect be a new de facto ‘parallel Province’ within the Church of England and to seek pastoral oversight from bishops who remain faithful to orthodox teaching on marriage and sexuality.”

    When we play these power games based on a perceived knowledge of good and evil – then I think we abuse the power we hold. And theologically I would say it is a form of Redemptive Violence. Reasoning, that somehow believes that splitting the church makes the church a better bride of Christ. We have centuries of church splits to show that doesn’t lead anywhere positive. Some parishes in my diocese have already used their power over Common Fund to divert payments to The Ephesian Fund set up by CEEC, though I note that the moral imperative driving them does not stretch to giving back their houses, stipends or pension to the diocese from which they feel they simply have to ‘separate’ themselves.  No doubt The Alliance wants to take the Church Commissioners’ pot of funds into their new Province also. They have already benefited from vast swathes of it through SDF Funding.  At least now their behind-the-scenes planning is out in the open.  The Alliance letter states: “We will encourage all church leaders who are in sympathy with The Alliance to join the parallel Province.”

    Jesus clearly picks up the theme of Genesis 2 and how use of the power of knowledge of good and evil can lead to wrongly judging others, leading us away from considering the planks in our own eyes. He constantly berates the religious elites for judging and excluding and scapegoating the vulnerable and marginalised. Surely, it’s obvious, isn’t it? And I can hear the conservatives saying right now…. “But he told the woman caught in adultery to leave her life of sin…”. For me, even leaving aside the fact that the story was about unfaithfulness and this debate is about affirming faithful same sex partnerships, that is to completely miss the point of the story, which is that Jesus, the sinless one, should have fulfilled the law and stoned the woman himself… but instead he radically and transformatively, for himself and for the woman, said…”I do not condemn you.” That’s the point of the story, isn’t it? He is not going to condemn and judge her against a purity code and neither is he going to send her off hopeless. He gives her hope and says to her, like he says to all of us, “go and live a better life”.  Perhaps that was what Jesus was silently saying to the men who slunk away after his challenge to them.  They too needed to go and “live a better life”.

    I am sorry to say I am really, really tired of CEEC’s pronouncements. Like many others I have given up days and days to sit in group discussions with them and nothing changes.  But I still don’t want them to leave.  I still count them as my brothers and sisters in Christ.

    I want to say Yes….. Yes….. Yes…. to Jesus’ grace, love, intentional non-judgement, inclusion and acceptance. Redemptive Love, not a sort of redemptive violence.  Those of us on the affirming side of this debate have to keep believing that Redemptive Love will win and come to fruition in the end.

     

     

  • Finding a Way Through: February 2024

    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

    Well, there goes another General Synod.

    It has been rather a strange year. It feels like a long time since many of us yearning for change thought that we might finally be getting there – or if not ‘there’, exactly, then somewhere along the road from here to there. February 2023 saw the first glimmer of light for LGBTQIA people shine through and yet time after time, Synod after Synod, archepiscopal intervention after archepiscopal intervention, attempted rollback after attempted rollback, backdoor dealing after backdoor dealing, there seems to have been a concerted and rather ill-tempered determination to ensure that any semblance of progress is snatched away from us. It is fascinating that there is a ‘clear will of Synod’ until that clear will isn’t what some people appear to want – again, and again. The mantra of ‘just keep asking the question until you get the right answer’ is beginning to get just a tiny bit tiresome.

    So where do we find ourselves after yet another debate?

    Well, in the first instance, we find ourselves all pretty sick to the back teeth of the endless meddling of unnamed authorities in the process. It was enormously refreshing to hear the courageous voice of the Bishop of Newcastle make reference to this reality, and it is about time that whoever it is – and we all have our suspicions of the various parties involved – that keep sticking their noses in, trying to subvert the process, however well intentioned, just stop. It is becoming increasingly clear that the LLF Implementation leadership has had too many cooks, some in purple and some in suit and tie, and that the broth is at continual risk of being spoiled. Now is the time to step back – the trust in many in leadership is gone, and others, including the Bishop of Leicester, need to be allowed to get on with the job without endless interference and politicking.

    Secondly, there was a welcome change in the nature of the debate and – frankly – the behaviour of many of those involved in it. This might seem somewhat unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but as a gay person looking in, this was the first time that I didn’t feel physically sick, or seething, when hearing some of the speeches. There was the usual casual misrepresentation, and the occasional veering into discussion of ‘issues’ rather than people, but in general this debate did seem – at last – to be veering into decent human conversation. Only time will tell if this continues.

    And thirdly, it now seems very clear both where the bounds of the future direction are being drawn, and what that means for the church. Whilst there were howls of disquiet that the idea of ‘cannot agree to disagree’ and the need for ‘legally secure structural provision’ did not garner anything like majority support, nonetheless that is a fact – they did not, and they have not, consistently. What is needed now is a move away from the double-edged sword of ‘victimhood’ and threat that irresponsible organs such as the CEEC have used to date. If you choose to threaten to exclude yourself because you cannot live with disagreement, when there is clear disagreement, and you cling to demands for ‘my way or the highway’, then you are getting awfully close to being a bully. Nobody is forcing you out – you are choosing to exclude yourself because you cannot accept you might be wrong, or the reality – that we simply cannot agree on this. We see your false binary – and we challenge it.

    So it really is about time we named this tactic for what it is. ‘Give us X or we won’t stay in the church’ is not a negotiation – it is a bare, naked threat.  When it is done by people who appear dead set on ensuring those of us who want to find some kind of compromise are stopped from doing so, then that threat becomes very malign indeed. It is not the only way – and you, we, all of us, know it.

    Which brings us back to Synod. It was a very good thing that the Leicester paper was not voted through, because hidden amongst the concerning hints of rollback was the idea that it was only once ‘conservatives’ got their full structural change that standalone services or clergy marriage might be considered. Synod clearly and unambiguously voted that idea down, and it really is time to put it to bed. ‘Structural provision’ is simply not going to happen, and far too many of those who have been arguing for it have been doing so in bad faith, because the reality is that they wouldn’t accept anything remotely acceptable to the wider church and hence just want to delay, delay, and eventually throw their hands up in the air and say ‘this was all just too hard, let’s not bother’, binning the implementation of Synodical decisions at the same time. The sooner we name that, and move on to genuine, serious, engaged negotiations, the better.

    Many of us advocating for change are more than willing to come to the table and have already compromised a great deal, but there needs to be a starting point of good faith, genuine negotiation from those who oppose the Prayers of Love and Faith, and a recognition that it is now beyond time to implement the clear will of Synod, much as the Bishop of Leicester has indicated. Simply shouting ‘legally secure structural provision’ doesn’t, frankly, do the trick, and is getting tiresome. For many – me included – these are questions not just about these prayers, but about a fundamental threat to our ecclesiology. Casting our ecclesiology aside and creating a ‘pure’ church within a church in order to appease those who will never really be appeased is not a good strategy. Suggesting that we can remain in any serious way ‘one church’ whilst having ‘legally secure structural provision’ is a demonstrable nonsense.

    So – let’s sit down and work out how we can move forwards. If you are a reasonable conservative who opposes these prayers on theological grounds, we can and want to work with you to enable you to flourish in the same church as us. We want to ensure you have pastoral provision that allows you to feel valued and loved – pastoral provision which, incidentally, has been cruelly withheld from so many LGBTQIA people for years. You do not have to buy into the lie that structural provision, with bishops out of communion with one another, special ordinations, confirmations, theological colleges, pseudo-provinces, and the rest of it, is the only answer – it isn’t, and it’s not going to happen. It just isn’t. We want you to feel supported, and we want to build each other up in the faith – and we can make this happen if we’re willing to put our minds to it, and ignore the extremes.

    That’s the challenge, and that’s the direction of travel. There is a way through if we are willing to find it. Let’s learn to be the Church of England again, together.

  • Slouching Towards Synod*

    by Helen King, member of General Synod, editor

    Usually things start to settle down in the week before General Synod meets. The agenda is out, Questions are submitted and the written answers awaited, and people read through the various papers and start to think about whether they have something they’d like to contribute to the debates.

    But, in this particularly troubled Synod, where safeguarding, Living in Love and Faith, and governance are all coming together and overlapping in a disturbing way, nothing feels settled at all. That wasn’t helped this morning by an unexpected letter ‘To all General Synod Members’, from the one remaining LLF Lead Bishop. There is still no sign of anyone having been identified to take over Bishop Helen-Ann Hartley’s role as the ‘inclusive’ Lead Bishop; or perhaps nobody so identified has been willing to take this on.

    In the letter, Bishop Martyn Snow assures us that the list of ‘commitments’ being brought by him to Synod are not really the commitments. They are ‘intended as an illustration of the sort of commitments that might form the basis of an agreement’.

    Yes, the underlining/bold face combination is in the letter.

    We are further asked not to ‘pick apart’ the wording of the commitments, or to discuss whether we agree with the details. It’s not clear what we are allowed to do.

    Is that it? Or are any more documents likely to land between now and Friday?

    In these circumstances, rather than offer any new reflections, Via Media News is instead offering you a reminder of some of the pieces published already here, and which speak into aspects if our current situation. No.10 of the commitments in GS2346 – commitments which are not really commitments – concerns communion: the search for the ‘highest possible degree’ of communion and the idea of ‘degrees of unity’. Is this about impaired communion? Ah, but we are not supposed to ‘pick apart’ the wording.

    So, let’s think about sacraments, and impaired sacraments. On Via Media, back in 2019, we featured a piece on our common baptism, from Bishop David Gillett, picking up cases where a minister had refused to baptise the child of a same-sex couple: ‘Does the Bible really say … that baptism should be withheld from some people?’ David looked at the sorts of “Oh my goodness how do we do this??” practical questions, like how to fill in the register when there are two mothers, or two fathers, and reminding us of Canon B22: No minister shall refuse or, save for the purpose of preparing or instructing the parents or guardians or godparents, delay to baptise any infant within his cure that is brought to the church to be baptized.

    He wrote “Meanwhile we are in the ironic situation where baptism, the foundation sacrament within the Church, is open to all whereas lawfully married same sex couples are barred from both a church marriage and the possibility of ordination.”

    Last year, Fr Thomas Sharp wrote about breaking, or remaining in, communion, when communion “flows from our baptism”. “To declare then that communion is broken is, simply, to make a fundamental statement too about baptism, that the sacrament, too, has in some way been broken.” He concluded, “I am tempted, when I disagree with them and any number of my fellow members of the Church, to declare us ‘out of communion’, to insult and write them off. But then the Spirit’s voice accuses me: ‘How dare you forsake your baptism?’”

    This raises questions around the stated objectives of the Church of England Evangelical Council, as stated in their document ‘Securing evangelical witness’. In the non-geographic dioceses envisaged here, people will be “able to express the view that others in the C of E are preaching a different gospel and are false teachers”; not that we disagree, but that one group of us are false teachers and the others aren’t. One baptism? Apparently not. Sharing communion? It doesn’t sound like it.

    Evidence for that comes from another 2019 piece published here, on ‘impaired communion’, where Dr David Ison challenged the January 2019 Letter from Concerned Anglicans in the Oxford Diocese, which took issue with the Oxford Bishops because they were insisting that all could be baptised and could receive communion: the Concerned wrote ‘in supporting the formulation first produced by the Bishops of Lichfield, [your Ad Clerum] Letter makes specific reference to nobody being excluded or discouraged from receiving the sacraments of baptism or the Lord’s Supper” and argued that what they called ‘such indiscriminate participation’ was actually unbiblical because, the Concerned Anglicans observed, ‘the Apostle Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 11: 27-29 clearly discourages participation in the Lord’s Supper for those who have not examined themselves.’

    So, for some within the wider, and diverse, evangelical constituency, some cannot be baptised, while some cannot accept the invitation to the Lord’s Table if the person presiding there has stated that they will bless people in committed same-sex relationships. This of course already happens – although, I think, less than it did – if the person presiding is female. David responded to all this was that “It’s ironic, and worse, that Paul’s confronting of corporate division and contempt is used by one part of Christ’s body as a stick with which to beat and exclude another part of Christ’s body – when Paul is telling his hearers to take a good look at themselves, not others.” Examining oneself seems rather different from labelling others as automatically excluded.

    And that brings us back to the big question: when Christians in the same Church refuse to take communion from, or with, other Christians in that Church: are they still in the same Church, or is that schism?

     

    *The title of this blog post is of course a reference to Yeats’ poem, The Second Coming. Make of that what you will.