Tag: Chaplaincy

  • Recognising Grooming: Revisiting the David Tudor Case

    by Anon.

    I write as a woman who met David Tudor in the early eighties when he came to our parish as a half-time Curate. The other half of his time was spent as chaplain and teacher of RE to the local CofE /Roman Catholic comprehensive school nearby. The Judgment at his recent Clergy Discipline Measure tribunal made clear that it would not name that parish in order to protect the anonymity of the recent complainants; I shall not do it here. Further, this judgment made it clear that, for the first time and after 40 years, Tudor admitted to abusive behaviour when confronted with a contemporaneous diary kept by one of the complainants.

    In the early days, he had concentrated his attention in the parish on three groups: children, their mothers and the elderly in the congregation. He was, by common consent, stunningly attractive and utterly charming. However, before long our then-incumbent (since deceased) confided that he found Tudor “uncontrollable”.

    From my own viewpoint, Tudor was making great progress with children in the parish, with their parents and with the elderly on whom he lavished time and attention. What I failed to realise at the time that this was a very practised onslaught of grooming of all those groups. Nonetheless, he seemed to sense that attention on me would not be appreciated but I felt, at the time, that I was quite alone in this. I have heard nothing since to make me change that view.

    After only a few months, problems crystallised when Tudor invited a group of the older children to a weekend away without any adult assistance.  I raised this at a PCC meeting in Tudor’s absence and not a single other person showed any concern. The expedition went ahead without my son, then aged 13 or so. The anguish this caused in our family was out of all proportion, as is often the way with young teenagers who have to be with their peer group in all circumstances (more recently captured in the epithet FOMO: fear of missing out).

    By that time, I had insisted on a meeting to discuss the matter with Tudor, but he failed to turn up “owing to an asthma attack”. The irony of taking children away overnight unaccompanied by any other adult when he could have an asthma attack was totally lost on him, as was the suggestion that, should any complaints arise, he would have no adult witness to protect him.

    Years later, our I met our then-incumbent at a Church School function and he told me that Tudor had originally proposed this overnight stay for school pupils but the governors had refused to allow it. Tudor had therefore cancelled the school trip rather than comply and hastily invited young church members instead. If the Governors had concerns about him by that time, they did not share them with our incumbent.

    As a family we were caught out again when Tudor proposed a holiday in Greece, again unaccompanied by other adults. We had already made arrangements to go to Canada where family members had emigrated some twenty years earlier and we had not seen them since. In the circumstances, rather than spell out my misgivings I explained to my son we could not do another holiday in Greece over and above the one in Canada. He took that to mean we could not afford it, which was eminently reasonable, and he came back from a meeting saying that Tudor had offered to tap into “charitable funds” on his behalf. I responded by letter saying how disgusted I was that my over-privileged son had been offered “charitable funds”. I was teaching at that time and I explained that, in my experience, in circumstances where finances were apparently the issue preventing a child from participating, the child was never informed. Negotiations would be between the head of the school and the parents. In the context of a parish church, the incumbent could be asked.

    The plan foundered but I never knew who it was who had seen the light and put a stop to the venture. I never heard of any conversation between the school and the parish church, although that does not mean they did not occur.

    Meanwhile the grooming process continued with apparent success,  even though in those far-off days of innocence I did not quite recognise it for what it was. I had concluded that children were likely to be at risk, but I was not certain whether those children were likely to be male or female. It troubled me greatly but I could not identify anyone with whom I could discuss it; as I saw it, I had no evidence and I certainly had no relationships in the Diocese for consultation and I did not even know an Archdeacon until many years later. Only recently have I discovered that our then-Area Bishop testified in Tudor’s favour at his subsequent trial (see below). I was clearly quite right to perceive myself to be at a loss.

    In 1986 or so, Tudor’s curacy was completed and he became part-time priest-in-charge at a nearby Church; his chaplaincy at the school was extended.

    I was not aware of how he was getting on at all until I heard on the grapevine that he had been convicted of molesting five girls at the school; Tudor was convicted and sentenced to six months in prison, which he served.

    After his release he appealed against the conviction, which was quashed on the grounds of a technicality. This technicality was that complaints against him as a defendant should have been taken one at a time, rather than all at once. It is not difficult to see the problems for a defendant if multiple cases are taken at once but, during the Labour Government of 1997-2010, that provision was changed in the case of trials for sexual offences. That is why it is not uncommon now to hear of sexual offenders convicted on multiple counts. That Government also brought in a provision covering people in a position of “authority /trust” to protect pupils or students who were technically above the age of consent.

    I did not know until recently what Tudor did after that but I now know that he was banned from the priesthood for five years and was then allowed back. I discovered only the other night that Archbishop Carey made that decision and he explained that it was he who decided to insist that Chelmsford Diocese should accept Tudor, which duly happened. Perhaps it was the Archbishop’s legacy which Stephen Cottrell inherited on his appointment to Chelmsford as Diocesan in 2010 rather than that of his immediate predecessor in that role.

    Meanwhile I still knew nothing of Tudor’s whereabouts and was assured by my own Bishop that he was not serving at that time and never would serve as a priest again. Priests have come under Employment Law since 2009 and are entitled to go to an Employment Tribunal, for example, and I guess that this was on his or her mind when the lawyer advised Stephen Cottrell against dismissal when he first encountered this problem. It could have been agreed that the risk was worth taking but, as there had already been archiepiscopal intervention, that would have been difficult.

    The case of the Dean of Manchester (Robert Waddington) emerged in 2013, long after Tudor had been to prison and long after Waddington himself had died. In the ensuing review chaired by Sally Cahill QC, both the then-Archbishop of York and the then-Bishop of Manchester were criticised for not having taken action years earlier. One problem was found to be of mutual deference between all three and it was noted that each was obliged by oath to the other two. This issue might have come into play in the Tudor/Carey/Cottrell situation although they would almost certainly not have recognised it.

    What I never knew until now was the nature of the abuse  and that Tudor was violent as well as abusive – or that there were girls in our congregation who suffered. A friend recently told me that her daughter reported at the time (in the eighties), that a friend of hers was “having an affair” with Tudor and that this friend had not told anyone because she was “frightened”. My friend could not understand the notion of being frightened. Maybe this child was one of the recent complainants who were from the parish.

    In my later life, I was in a position to speak about all this in various central church committees, in particular to use Tudor’s case to illustrate the power of grooming. At the time, I did not know where Tudor was, but then I saw a television programme with quite a long slot given to Canvey Island and its wonderful vicar, and there was he was. I continued to mention the case at national level. I was assured that enquiries would be made, and then that “there was no further problem and previous problems had been dealt with”.

    The only thing I have to add to the wider conversation about this is that the congregation in this case was never mentioned. I think what many of them may have experienced was real heartbreak. The women who have now complained have suffered ever since but they and the other girls at the time must have been distraught. Further, a subsequent incumbent who arrived at the parish about 15 years after these events told me he found the congregation still deeply divided and unhappy over it all. I still thought I was the only person who believed that Tudor was guilty as charged; he was even invited back to take Occasional Offices, although not in the Parish Church.

    In all the conversations about safeguarding I have heard in the interim,  nothing has been mentioned about congregations or about the other youngsters in the friendship groups of any victims. For all these people there will have been a massive betrayal of trust and a challenge to their self-belief. Some may have been groomed and they may never bring themselves to believe ill of the offender. A great friend of mine who was then the age that I am now firmly believed, she said, that those girls were “no better than they should be”. I guess there could be similar reactions in current cases, and such people should be sought out and helped otherwise bitterness and division could well persist as they did in this congregation for a generation or more.

    In the past few weeks, in a conversation with one of those adults groomed in the eighties who now understood Tudor’s admission, they nonetheless seemed to regard the latest revelations with an insouciance which is very difficult to understand. However, grooming needs to be understood if we are to bring closure to everyone who gets caught up in such events and to be sure that the whole parish can get healing.

    The existence of Parish Safeguarding Officers should and often does give people confidence to report; but that depends on parishioners and safeguarding officers themselves recognising grooming for what it is.

     

  • Ordained, Commissioned, Faithful and Eternally Hopeful

    by Revd Andi Chapman, Chaplain in the Royal Air Force, serving in the south of England

    My name is Andi. I am an ordained Church of England (CofE) priest who is currently serving in His Majesty’s Royal Air Force (RAF) and is also in a same-sex Civil Partnership. Some years ago, when I began the journey towards ordination, the person responsible for my academic reference for the Bishops’ Advisory Panel (BAP) wrote: “Andi will be good for the church, but the church won’t be good for him”. At the time, I thought that my university lecturer was having a downer on the church, yet over the past 17 years since that time, what she wrote has in the latter part sadly came true.

    From the time of first receiving ‘the call’ to ordained ministry, I knew the journey would be far from easy.  I expected to encounter some views that could make me uncomfortable. Yet, throughout, from my diocese to the BAP and on to theological college, people were welcoming and promoted inclusion. I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a rainbow flag-waving gay person, yet if you scratch my surface there would be a rainbow there. I have always been circumspect about ‘coming out’ to people on first encounter, so have applied cautious judgement when meeting new people.

    After three years at Cranmer Hall, I went on to the Lincoln Diocese where again I was welcomed with inclusion and love by the bishops and training incumbent. While not being ‘overtly out’ with the Parish, I did meet my now-husband there and entered a civil partnership which ultimately looked like a scene from the BBC comedy The Vicar of Dibley where the registry office was half clergy from various denominations and half Lincolnshire farm workers! There were a few people in the parish who did struggle with my same-sex relationship, yet for the most part I was supported. That does not mean there was not the pain of rejection from those who did not support us; indeed, some refused to receive communion from me while others left the church building when they saw me. It is important to note that these people were in the minority, and they had been perfectly happy with me being their curate before they knew my situation.

    Then the commissioning came along. I joined the RAF as a chaplain and began my travels around the different stations within the service. It has also taken me to other parts of the world. My aim has always been serving others and showing God’s love through the wonderful, yet maybe apocryphal, saying of St Francis: ‘Preach the gospel always, use words if you must’.

    Yet there is one constant in my story that has remained: that I live in a tri-tension between Church, ministry and love. The Church has remained clear, with Lambeth Resolution 1.10 and Issues in Human Sexuality and its standpoint on same-sex attraction. While I have entered a Civil Partnership, that is as far as I can go. Some years ago, I would have been keen to marry my other half, yet in the interim my views towards marriage have adjusted, and say to me that love does not need to be measured by marriage. Paradoxically, it has been from Christians that I have experienced some of the most disappointing and painful behaviours. Overt homophobic opinions have peppered many of my interactions during my ordained life.

    When I first meet LGBTQ+ church members they often seem surprised that I have found a home within the RAF, as many assume that the Armed Forces would be intolerant towards varying sexualities and gender differences. I can say with confidence that the RAF has given me the space to exercise God’s calling, which primarily involves me living within the community in which I serve. It has given me the securities, inclusion, and scope to work without fear of homophobic attitudes. My role is based around offering pastoral and welfare support to those who serve their country, their families, civil servants, and contractors. The work is predominately diaconal in its output.

    While the RAF has offered me a safe environment to do this role, that does not mean I have been immune from homophobia. On Easter Sunday this year, after the service, one person asked me how my husband was and I answered openly and honestly. I was aware of one retired service person’s reaction to this. I recognised the hostility and tried to prevent any negativity. However, by the following week I had noted that the church numbers were halved. I was not surprised by this, but deep down I did feel a sense of anguish and frustration.

    I am who I am and have to accept the tensions within the doctrine of ‘Church, ministry and love’ for the rest of my life. Yet that is where the need for an unshakeable faith comes into play. Although I know that change is slow, I believe that in my own way I can help precipitate that change, and that I can have value to those in the church, the RAF and my partner.

    Thank you for taking the time to read a little bit about my story. Peace and all good to you!

     

  • When is a Week not a Week?

    by the Rev Kat Campion-Spall, Associate Vicar at St Mary Redcliffe, Bristol and Dean of Women’s Ministry

     

    How long is a week? We all know that sometimes time seems to rush past and it is Saturday evening again with most of the jobs we had hoped to do still on a “to be done” list. Weeks during lockdown sometimes seemed to be endless, especially with active children desperate to get out and meet friends. But how many days are there in a week? The Church of England doesn’t seem to be able to come up with a consistent answer to that basic question.

    Seven? Apparently not. Try scanning the end pages of the Church Times, and looking at the part-time incumbencies advertised there. A post described as ‘two-thirds’ which turns out to mean Sunday + 3.5 days, with no mention of remuneration. Another advertised for 4 days including Sunday, for half a stipend plus a house. A ‘half-time’ post: Sunday + 3 other days. Other advertisements offering a 0.5 stipend don’t commit to a number of days, but the job description would be almost impossible even for a full-time incumbent. It’s not transparent, it’s not consistent, it’s often mathematically impossible, and it doesn’t seem to allow for any days off! The Church of England announces that more women than men are being selected for ordination training, but that is not the whole story: these “part-time” roles impact on women much more than on men.

    A House for Duty post which comes with nothing but that house, and which expects working on Sundays and two or three other days, may be useful for a priest entering retirement with a pension, but anyone under pensionable age will lose pension contributions in such a role. Women clergy are nearly twice as likely as men to be ordained as an SSM (Self Supporting Minister), roles which usually have no kind of remuneration. Two-thirds of women are over 40 when they begin training; nearly 40% who started last September were over 50. Whatever their experience, and whatever the reason for not offering, or being selected, for ordination when younger, this group will usually only be considered for SSM posts. Dioceses differ in the proportion of women who are in such posts; could this be to do with differing attitudes among senior staff towards enabling women to balance ministry with family commitments?

    But there is a growing need for properly paid part-time posts, particularly for the younger women who the Church of England says it wants to attract. Nationally, in the general workforce, in 2020 38% of women in employment were working part-time, many as a considered choice, compared with 13% of men. Yet in the Church of England, only around 15% of women and 6% of men are in part-time stipendiary roles. While examples of flexibility and good practice exist, it seems that the challenges of planning a fair and workable package, usually including housing, often mean that part-time is put in the “too complicated” box, so part-time roles are rare and, where they are offered, can lead to bad practice.

    In my role as Dean of Women’s Ministry, I have heard too many stories from my own diocese and further afield of women who went through discernment for ordination at a time in their lives when they didn’t want or couldn’t manage a full-time post, and so to enable them to have the part-time roles they need, have been pushed into self-supporting ministry which isn’t really what they want, and which does not always allow them to develop the ministry they have the potential to offer.

    There’s the half-time vicar who wasn’t told until she’d started that she had to pay the rent on half the vicarage. There’s the priest who took a half-time chaplaincy post and then looked into an additional half-time parish post to discover there literally were not enough days in the week for her to do both. There’s the vicar with a young family who moved from a full-time stipendiary role to a house for duty post as a way of working part-time, which means she misses out on potentially a decade’s worth of pension contributions despite being in work. And the vicar in her fifties whose peers in other professions were dropping down to 4-day weeks to enjoy a more balanced life, who simply didn’t see that option in the church and so left ministry.

    We know that there are going to be changes in how ministry, both stipendiary and SSM, will have to be organised in the coming years. We also know that a healthy church will need to attract and retain a diverse range of clergy. Until we have cracked a transparent, consistent and fair way of remunerating part-time roles, we won’t be attracting and retaining those clergy for whom full-time doesn’t work: many of them, women.