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Tag: College of Bishops

  • Consensus, Compassion, Truth, and Grace

    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 Vocations and Ministry Working Group

    In every political fight, not least those within the church, it is a good idea – every so often – to take a step back, and ask some questions about the landscape we now find ourselves in. Even those calling for ‘more theology’ in the glacial LLF process admit, at least privately, that this is more a political than a theological fight. That’s not to say that there aren’t firmly held theological views influencing our debates, but it is to say that it is clear that it is not on the grounds of theology that the outcome of LLF will be decided. There are two broad strands within the church that have come to theologically divergent conclusions on the goodness, or otherwise, of same-sex, same-gender relationships. In doing so, they have come to theologically divergent conclusions on Christian anthropology, and many other things beside. This is about sex, certainly, but it’s about much more than that – the ethical questions are deeper and wider, and often end up in theological divergence on the nature of God, rather than of God’s creatures.

    It’s good, I think, that we have named that: but naming it doesn’t solve the problem. Those on different sides of the ‘debate’ are not being difficult when they refuse to agree with the other, and nor are they being – in the main – dishonest. Neither, let us be clear, does one ‘side’ have the monopoly on good Christian theology. There remains, of course, spurious talk of there being swathes of the Church of England who ‘haven’t made their mind up’, but there is precious little evidence of such people, because the question is not so much ‘would you bless these people’ but rather ‘would you let someone else bless them, even if you might, in good conscience, not do it yourself’? That is the political reality we find ourselves in, and it is the key question. I am yet to find someone who doesn’t have an answer one way or the other, whatever the genesis of their answer, and however unclear that person might be on the underlying anthropological questions that arise. The reason for that is because we are ultimately at a binary choice, and that is why this issue has turned to politics and away from the idea of shared discernment. There is now a choice that needs to be made.

    Once again, in private if not publicly, most people are agreed that there is now a moderate majority – perhaps more than moderate – in the pews, and amongst the clergy of the Church of England, in favour of blessing same sex couples (and allowing clergy to marry their same-sex partner) at the very least, and probably a majority in favour of marriage in church. We know that, in autumn 2023, the College of Bishops supported enabling clergy to enter same-sex civil marriages, and that there was an indicative vote in the House of Bishops with the same result. In the General Synod, it is clear by a basic review of the numbers that there is a narrow majority in favour of blessings and clergy marriage. In other words, views have shifted on this, and the current teaching and practice of the Church of England no longer reflects what the majority believe and wish for. The majorities are indeed quite narrow (and goodness knows, if they’d gone the other way, they’d be lauded as clear and decisive), but then everybody knows that the General Synod (because of how it is elected and formulated) is not representative of the wider opinion in the Church of England, tending towards what is often described as consensus. Yet this consensus is really created through ensuring that the different ‘camps’ of people in the Church of England get represented on the General Synod, with minority perspectives overrepresented by design.

    I cannot be the only person to feel a bit fed up with the political games. I’m bored of them – they make me angry, they make me intemperate, and they make me frustrated at the way the church corporate behaves. I get particularly angry when I sit in a room, Zoom or otherwise, and political point scoring is the endless currency, at the expense of LGBTQIA people, who are frequently conspicuous by their absence. We remain a thing – an issue. There are speeches in General Synod rejoicing at the frustration of the progress to give us the crumbs under the table. We are expected to absorb this, whilst those who could be our allies tell us to have cooler heads and do very little to use their power and influence to support us in case it makes difficulties for them. Yet, as with every group facing structural and systemic oppression, that is our lot – one need not look too far to see similar dynamics at play in other vexed ecclesiological questions.

    Yet whilst there is a place for anger, there is also a place for calmly interrogating the assumptions that underlie our current impasse, and I’d like to take a moment to do that in relation to consensus. This is the new word of the moment – and I am willing, at least for now, to suspend judgement and imagine that those calling for it are speaking out of a place of genuine concern and not political manipulation (although, not being naïve, I must admit to being sceptical).

    The argument goes like this: decisions on LLF are very significant, and are splitting the church. We need to reach consensus on this, meaning – in Synodical arithmetic – getting to two-thirds majorities, the use of Canon B2, and so on, because unless we do the church will split. This is just too important to rely on slim majorities.

    Now, leaving aside the reality that a slim majority in General Synod represents a significantly less slim majority in the wider church, let’s just think for a moment about what is being said here. Firstly, the suggestion is that if such a consensus view was reached (at two thirds of Synod, for example), then the threats of schism would dissipate. There is no evidence that this is the case. Secondly, the suggestion is that the majority view should be overruled by the minority until consensus is reached. It is not at all clear why this should be the case, not least given that the suggestion is not that all must change practice but rather that pastoral accommodation be made that would enable those who would like to, to do so. If we were talking about a ‘must’ and not a ‘may’ situation, the argument might hold more water. But we’re not – we’re talking about enabling a clear difference in theological belief to be embodied through an extremely modest change in practice.

    Thirdly, and perhaps more importantly, we are being asked to accept as a fait accompli that schism will come, that the ‘church will split’, without interrogating that claim for a moment. Who precisely is making that claim, and why? On whose terms is this debate being held? If we might resituate it for a moment, we are being pressurised to accept that the anti-LLF minority’s view is inevitable – that it simply logically follows that schism will come if particular demands aren’t met, and this is controlling – through fear – the actions of our decision-makers. It is time for us to name that and stop accepting the inevitability of such a choice – for a choice it is. This is about red lines, and because of that it is ultimately about holding the majority to ransom. Recognising that rather changes the dynamics.

    Which brings me back to the reality of our current situation.

    Those arguing for no change on the basis of needing a consensus seem not to realise – or care – the strain that this is taking on LGBTQIA faithful Christians. I want to imagine that it is the former, and that this is a failure of imagination and not compassion, but having sat in enough meetings, I don’t think the sheer cost of this for LGBTQIA people is remotely recognised, or, frankly, that we matter to many of those who still see this as ‘an issue’. Compassion requires you to ‘suffer with’, and there is precious little evidence of that. At the same time, there are potential ordinands desperate to offer themselves to the church in service who are being banned from doing so, and faithful priests who have lost their ministries for following their hearts. There are queer couples to whom we can still not offer even basic sacramental provision. Every time there is even a gentle move forwards, we are faced with a barrage of passive aggression and made to feel like we are the problem.

    But we’re not the problem, and we are asking for crumbs.

    As we look towards final decisions being made, it is incumbent upon us all to tell the truth, and for our bishops – who are scared by the constant threats – to recognise that it is not to the rich and powerful, not to those who withhold parish share and make demands, that they most owe their allegiance, as followers of the crucified Lord.  It is to those who ask for a cup of water, and who are still refused. It’s hard work to push back against powerful narratives, but it is incumbent upon anyone in Christian leadership to seek and speak the truth, with grace. Time will tell if we are willing to do that, together. Yet let us not forget that the God who knows the secrets of our hearts is the God who will call us all to account.

  • Crown Nominations Commission Back in the Firing Line

    by Anthony Archer, former member of the General Synod and the Crown Nominations Commission

    There has never been a shortage of armchair commentators on the Crown Nominations Commission (CNC), which started life in 1976 as the Crown Appointments Commission (CAC), a belated recommendation of the 1970 Chadwick Commission Church and State.  In its early years it was lambasted for nominating men in grey suits. When I pointed out that its first handiwork was the nomination in 1977 of Hugh Montefiore to Birmingham, I was reminded that one swallow doesn’t make a summer!

    In the 1980s and 1990s evangelicals (in those days a broad group) moaned about the few nominations being made of episcopal candidates of their flavour. Such redoubtable CAC central members of the day as Viscountess Brentford merely retorted, ‘show us the candidates.’ But the process developed, and the years of Tony Sadler as Archbishops’ Secretary for Appointments gave way to the significant period of service of Caroline Boddington. Paperwork and due diligence improved. General Synod introduced interviews, against the initial advice of the then archbishops. The preferment process generally became more robust; not that every diocesan bishop would necessarily participate by putting names forward.

    Radical change is not a feature of the CNC process. Most has been change imposed from outside. Gordon Brown could not see how a son of the manse should have any involvement in the process. The convention was changed, such that only one name was sent to Downing Street, although it took General Synod some years to catch up with its standing orders. The Lords Spiritual (Women) Act 2015 was a meaningful change, and its provision is soon to be extended.

    But throughout, the process received regular comment, mostly negative, almost certainly because of its perceived secrecy. Yes, it is confidential, as most appointments processes should be, but there is a difference between transparency of process and confidentiality of deliberation.

    And then we come to the current situation, the CNC 2022-2027 quinquennium  (central members are elected by General Synod for five years). I was privileged to serve from 2005-2007 and from 2017-2021. In all, including Dover, I have served on 18 CNCs. We have never failed. Why should we? The Church of England, a very flat organisation structurally, is stuffed with talent, and since 2014 that talent pool for episcopal appointments has theoretically doubled in size. No CNC ever failed until Hereford in 2014. It is probable that that CNC could not agree a second name, which was then fatal to the entire process. But it was possible to meet again quite quickly, and the nomination was resolved. The failure with Oxford in 2015 was more complex. Much got leaked about it. It was not edifying. A dysfunctional CNC apparently managed to promote two women candidates during final voting, neither of whom achieved the required majority of votes. Quite why they were invited for interview, I don’t know. But it was painful, not least for the candidates in question, as it is now.

    What are we witnessing now that has changed? Over the years, the General Synod has managed to elect a ‘balanced ticket’ of central members, more or less. Of six members, two have tended to be evangelical, two liberal catholic, and two traditionalist. Discernment should not be on party lines (the issue at stake here), but diversity of tradition in the central members helps eliminate criticism. The change today is a hugely more polarised General Synod, arguably more right wing (if that is the right term) than the extended 2015-2021 Synod. The new arrangements for electing CNC central members in pairs have not produced the result hoped for. Tribalism has become acute. Of the six ‘pairs’ of central members, fully four consist of members who are either conservative evangelical or traditional catholic. They tend to work together. The CNC arithmetic requires a candidate to obtain 10 votes (out of usually 14). If such a candidate does not find favour with the conservatives, it means that there are always four votes against such a person. That candidate may be a woman and/or hold views supportive of the introduction of LLF prayers (possibly indicative of a view on equal marriage). It requires only one of the diocesan members to side with this group for the candidate to fail. If no other candidate who has been interviewed can secure ten votes, the commission fails entirely. Two have now failed in the space of a year: Carlisle and Ely.

    The bishops (most of them) are incandescent with rage, including the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was his concern during the 2012-2017 CNC quinquennium which led to the magisterial report of Revd Professor Oliver O’Donovan, Discerning in Obedience. But General Synod failed to implement the key recommendations, the abolition of secret voting, and lowering the bar if, after successive rounds of voting, the CNC cannot agree.

    Which takes us to the recent House of Bishops meeting at St Hugh’s College, Oxford. Arriving at the Porter’s Lodge, I was one of the ‘members of the public’ granted a ticket to observe the meeting. A first for anyone. We gathered in an entrance hall. The College of Bishops (all the bishops) had earlier been meeting and had had its own session on the CNC crisis.  They were overrunning.

    We were shepherded in to what was to become a House of Bishops meeting (the diocesan bishops and some elected suffragans). The venue was a large hall. Nothing could have been less like a synod meeting. A hundred or so bishops seated at round tables, most in shirt sleeves, giving the impression of the latter stages of a wedding breakfast, with the bottles of wine (actually water) running out. There was a high table. The Bishop of Winchester presided, in dress-down. The Secretary General of the Archbishops’ Council was immaculate, chinos, sports jacket and tie. The mandatory legal beagle sat impassive.

    We were welcomed. Heads turned. Never before had a meeting of the House of Bishops had to cope with outsiders (at least apart from formally appointed observers). Some five members of the current cadre of CNC central members were present. Four current or former members of the General Synod were there, only one of whom (me!) was a former central member of the CNC. A lay representative of the Ely CNC came. Two members of the press braved the journey to Oxford (best to come by train and walk), being representatives of The Times and the Church Times. The  Church Times devoted a full page to the report, almost missing its deadline for print. The Times was to follow up on its earlier piece in the week with the headline “Church crisis after ‘alarming failure to nominate bishops’.” The BBC website also picked the story up.

    And so, the debate began. It had been called for by some bishops under standing orders, a kind of emergency debate. It was informed by a paper which outlined some solutions to the problems, which had been circulated to General Synod members ahead of the meeting, but which hadn’t been discussed with the current CNC central members. The Bishop of London (in proper clerical dress) introduced the business, an assured and purposeful performance. There were amendments. There always are in General Synod business and in the Houses. Submitting one guarantees you are called to speak. The Bishop of Oxford wanted the House to emphasise its ‘regret’ at the state of affairs. Agreed on a show of hands. The Bishop of Rochester wanted to slow things down: more time for consultation. But he was seen off: this was just kicking the issues into the long grass. What else could be learned that is not already known? He gathered 13 votes in favour of his amendment, but there were 24 against. The Bishop of Oxford then returned with his second amendment. If the CNC fails to agree, leave it to a panel (for example) of archbishops and the five most senior bishops to send a name to the Prime Minister. Well, that would have been red rag to the General Synod bull, likely to be interpreted as an episcopal power grab. It was defeated, but only by 14 votes to 19. To be fair to the Bishop of Oxford, he was just suggesting a pragmatic solution, a last resort process which would concentrate the minds of the members of the CNC.

    And so, we returned to the main motion, amended by the insertion of ‘regretting’ and the deletion of ‘acknowledging.’ What was really happening? At one level, the House of Bishops was doing what it had to under SO3 of its standing orders (don’t get me started). Although it cannot command the General Synod, the proposals it brings to Synod are persuasive, usually.

    A key theme of the debate was whether the House was bringing proposals that merely addressed the symptoms (the failure of the CNC to nominate) or whether it had really dealt with the underlying causes. The Bishop of Bath and Wells took up this theme. But he didn’t seem to acknowledge what was clear from the paper informing the motion, namely a complete failure of some recent CNCs to ‘discern’ a candidate (although some nominations, such as Peterborough and Exeter seemed to have been plain sailing). The meeting saw an impassioned speech from the Bishop of Dover, angry that certain CNC members will only vote for people who ‘interpret the Gospel my way.’ There were some heartfelt contributions from the Bishops of Stepney, Taunton, Peterborough, and Derby. The latter had had to face predictable comment in the Lords recently during the passage of the Lords Spiritual (Women) Act 2015 (Extension) Bill. The Bishop of Gloucester also spoke. It was not lost in the public gallery that more women were called in the debate than men.

    We know (the CNC has become very leaky recently because members and candidates are angry) that certain CNC members are voting purely on tribal lines. We have seen this before, but only now has this faction had the influence to thwart nominations. Frustratingly for them, and a mercy for the Church of England, they do not have the numbers to nominate ‘their own person,’ although they have tried successively. But what they have already achieved (which is wicked) is to provoke some candidates no longer to allow their names to go forward in the present climate.

    The Bishop of London summed up. The motion was convincingly  carried by 27 votes to nine, with three abstentions. The nine votes were assumed to be some of those who voted for the earlier Rochester amendment. Proposals (still to be worked on) will come to General Synod in February 2025, to include removing the secret ballot at CNCs, changing the threshold when the commission can’t agree, and giving the presiding archbishop an additional vote, if needed.

    The battleground will be the secret ballot. It is frankly dishonest to vote to shortlist a candidate who you know you will not vote for at the final meeting, but who otherwise meets the criteria. Worse is the fact that members can block a candidate while being able to deny the fact due to the secret ballot, having possibly made positive comments about the candidate in open discussion. I’ve witnessed this, but not in an environment where it made a material difference to the outcome. There were times during my CNC years when we initially looked as if there might not be 10 votes for a candidate. What did we do? We discussed it. We explained (maybe not all of us) why we had voted as we had, and we listened to others as to why they had voted for another candidate. We reached agreement and voted again. Simple, honest, transparent, prayerful discernment. But it doesn’t suit those who come with their own agenda. And when they are called out they complain that someone has leaked confidential information about this or that CNC.

    General Synod has been here before, but this time it’s serious. The Church of England in general, and the CNC in particular, look a laughing stock to the nation. It should know what it has to do.

     

     

  • Trust is a Hard Thing to Come by Right Now…

    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

    Of all the things that the revelations and revolutions of recent years have impacted upon, trust must surely be front and centre. Whether it is in the societal recognition that trust needs to be earned rather than merely assumed, or the endless, devastating examples of where trust has been so badly abused and misused, no part of society can claim exemption from the new reality in which we live. Those in positions of responsibility are no longer simply blessed with the trust of others, however uncomfortable that might feel, and protestations fall on the deaf ears of a society that knows it has had its fingers burnt.

    The trouble with trust is that once it’s broken, it’s so much harder to rebuild. The Church – not only but certainly including the Church of England – is a place where that trust has, in so many places, been broken, and is also a place where so many in authority seem to be smarting from that very fact, blinking in the sunlight and disoriented by the new world which it reveals. We hear it as a constant theme in debates about safeguarding – extraordinarily in some places about, even, the need for it, and across the board in a failure of recognition by those who hold authority and responsibility that those to whom they are making promises find those promises hard to believe. ‘We are acting in your best interests’ quite simply no longer cuts it, and nor do the rather unedifying tantrums of authority figures that appear all too frequently when great assertions and promises are not believed or taken at face value. Not only has the trust gone, but the people who need to listen to why this is the case, rather than complain that it is the case, don’t seem – in the main – to be willing to do so.

    In the Church of England, our church culture does not help things. The church, by nature, is hierarchical – and in many ways, that isn’t a problem in and of itself. Yet in recent years whilst we’ve seen increasing examples of the toe-curlingly embarrassing ‘call me Dave’ attitude creeping in to episcopal communications and engagements (the church, once again, being around fifteen years behind the Conservative Party), the reality is that this is little more than window dressing. For all the guff, we retain a hierarchy in the church that is fundamentally unnecessary – a hierarchy that shows very little introspection about what is rightly hierarchical, and what is not. The endless lack of transparency and accountability in many parts of our leadership is not of necessity part of the life of the church – it is a failure of our common life. Of course, it is easier to wear jeans and a tee-shirt and talk about your favourite football team, but the reality is that, for all this window dressing, the unhelpful power imbalances that sit at the heart of the way episcopacy is lived out in the twenty-first century Church of England remain. And it doesn’t need to be so.

    To address those imbalances would take more than a few hundred words, and I would argue should be front and centre of the discussions of the College and House of Bishops as they move forward. The issues are not insurmountable, yet whilst there remains a centralising, fortress mentality, nothing will change. The reality, of course, is that if it were to change, then everybody would benefit – bishops included. It remains a stain on our church fabric that nobody seems willing to lift the lid for fear of what they might uncover.

    The College of Bishops meeting this week, and on their agenda must be – although, of course, we mere humble workers in the vineyard are not told – the proposed outcome of the Living in Love and Faith project. There are, of course, too many groups from which to choose that have faced a total breakdown in trust with church authorities, but one of them must surely be LGBTQI people. It has become increasingly clear to me, as someone who has been involved in recent discussions on the Pastoral Guidance, that we are not suffering from a trust deficit – we are suffering from a total lack of trust in church authorities from LGBTQI people. And, frankly, for good reason.

    For years, LGBTQI Christians have been led up the garden path, misled, openly lied to, faced broken promise after broken promise, and lobbed on the bonfire of unity, treated as means and not ends in the dirty world of church politics. In conversations with bishops, I have heard disbelief and hurt expressed when I suggest to them that their words are worth very little to so many LGBTQI people who have – frankly – seen it all before, and are yet to be convinced any change is coming. There seems to be a collective outrage when LGBTQI people express hurt and caution, which is far too frequently cast by those in power as cynicism and prickliness (with more than a dash of unconscious homophobia dwelling in those kind of characterisations).

    Now it’s certainly true that many of those currently in purple are different individuals to those who have previously let us down so badly, but there is a real need for some corporate responsibility to be taken and some introspection undertaken as to why this mistrust remains. The faces may be different, but many of the structures remain the same, and throughout this process LGBTQI people have been treated – unconsciously or consciously – as political footballs, our lives and loves used as bargaining chips in the endless debates around unity (which are really about money, buildings, pensions, and power). A failure to see – or recognise – this doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Burying one’s head in the sand, or saying ‘just trust me’, doesn’t work. In short, where’s the evidence we should do so?

    Many promises have been made to LGBTQI people – publicly (‘radical new Christian inclusion’) and privately – about what will be decided (about – not with – us) in the coming weeks. These promises have been made in what purports to be a genuine, well-intentioned, honest way, alongside an apology for the way we have been treated in the past. All of that means very little unless something is actually delivered, and actual change occurs. We are all pretty much done with hearing nice things said.

    The ball is now in the court of the College and the House of Bishops. LGBTQI people, despite our reservations and our painful memories, have been cajoled into placing our trust in this process. Some LGBTQI people cannot bring themselves to trust that anything will change – and who can blame them? Others, me included, do believe that, at last, change is on the horizon, and the bishops will finally have the courage of their convictions – for that is what it is – to do what they know to be right, and to open the windows of the stuffy misery that is institutional homophobia and transphobia. This is their chance to prove that we’re not just naïve.

    Yet let’s make no bones about this – if these meetings end up with no change being made, no freedom for LGBTQI Christians to follow their consciences, no light being let in, no acknowledgement of the queer holiness that seeps out of LGBTQI Christians and enlivens the body of Christ, then we will enter into a time of crisis out of which it will be nigh on impossible to ever regain the trust of LGBTQI people – within and without the church. This really is ‘it’, and the stakes could not be higher.

    Now is the time for our leaders to deliver. Let us pray for our bishops to have the courage to begin the rebuilding of trust – and in so doing, to start rebuilding the church for whom they are called to care.

  • Ways and Means of Differentiation…

    by the Revd Neil Patterson, Director of Vocations & Ordinands in the Diocese of Hereford and Chair of the General Synod Gender & Sexuality Group

    The debate on sexuality in the Church of England is in a curious place as I write.  The College of Bishops has resided, and my social media coverage identifies the Charles Tyrwhitt blue check shirt as a preferred smart-casual choice. Informal reports suggest the predominant preference is for some sort of move forward, but there are many options for how, and more work is being done in readiness for a meeting in December. In the meantime, a few bishops led by Oxford have declared their hands for change, and a good deal of reaction has followed.  And some of us have continued with conversations across the divisions, to try to listen to and understand those with whom we disagree. But above all we are still waiting, and praying for an outcome which is both hopeful and does not lead to a train crash in February. This may be particularly likely if the bishops succumb to the Boris Johnson temptation of both having and eating their cake in the belief that they can choose a positive option for change and not face the division and resistance in Synod that will result.

    The process of listening to conservatives need not happen only in person. The Church of England Evangelical Council have been impressively open with their position and arguments, and you can find it all on their website. In particular, I found myself recently reading their Visibly Different, a briefing paper setting out the case for separate structures (‘visible differentiation’) for those on either side in the sexuality debate. It is not an agreed statement, but is closely allied to others that are. Aside from the expected reiteration of the general conservative position on sexuality, with which you would expect me to disagree, there is a great deal in it that is problematic. The core argument for differentiation (at 5.3.2-6) is based on a seemingly thin understanding of the Church as merely an association for mutual support among Christians, rather than a gift from God in redemption into which we are all incorporated by baptism, whether we choose it or not. Perhaps because it was first written for internal consumption there also feels to be much that amounts to ‘keeping our end up’ in future debate. And the proposals for provincial arrangements appear to be based on a weak and confused understanding of the history of the provinces within the polity of the Church of England.

    Having said all that, however, I want to recognise that the call for visible differentiation comes from brothers and sisters in Christ who are deeply concerned for their future place in the Church, especially as it now seems likely that a majority of the bishops favour a more supportive position on same-sex relationships, and perhaps even marriage. That concern is amplified, as I hear it, by the experience of the somewhat limited structure offered by the See of Ebbsfleet (formerly Maidstone) and the way in which senior appointments appear to be closed to complementarian evangelicals. There may also be a sense that although the Five Guiding Principles are in place and the traditional Catholic movement shows no signs of fading away (a recent New Directions proudly carried interviews with ordinands and curates born since the women priests vote of 1992), their honoured place is undoubtedly in something of a small corner.

    Proposals for differentiation do, however, tend to meet instinctive hostility from many, including bishops, because they seem to offer a pick-and-mix ecclesiology, and to undermine the Church of England’s catholic (in the sense of universal) understanding of its mission – a Christian Presence in Every Place by means of the parish system under dioceses. So, because I am also an enthusiast for ecclesiastical law, I found myself wondering if I could suggest to all concerned another format for differentiation. Are there ways we work as a church across historic boundaries for particular purposes? Yes. There are Bishop’s Mission Orders.

    BMOs, introduced in the Mission and Pastoral Measure 2011, allow for ministries to be created on a cross-parish, and even cross-diocese basis, with a particular remit for mission. There is an (elaborate) process for consultation, but parishes and local clergy cannot necessarily prevent their being formed, and there is provision in existing law for them to have financial arrangements, enable licensing of ministry and synodical representation. It does not seem legally impossible to me for further provision about the reason for the ministry, such as theological conviction, to be added. I should stress that I am not proposing simply using BMOs as presently constituted – but looking to them as the germ of a model that may help us if we face irreconcilable division. It may also be compatible with the suggestion I have heard from one conservative bishop that border-crossing between existing bishops would be preferable to creating new sees.

    An example may help, so let us think of a city in central England with a diversity of church views which I know enough to describe but from which I am distant enough to be forgiven (please!) for simplifying here: Oxford. In that city the diocesan bishop, Steven Croft, has declared his support, in principle, for same-sex marriage. One parish priest in the city, Vaughan Roberts of St Ebbe’s, has responded in disagreement (see both essays here). It seems very possible that, especially if some actual national change does happen, Mr Roberts will be supported by his PCC in finding it impossible to remain under the authority of his bishop. But because +Steven is gracious and generous, he will want to find a way for Vaughan to flourish all the same. So it would be possible to imagine an Order declaring that St Ebbe’s, whose geographical parish is tiny and not particularly relevant to their ministry, is to have a ministry to all in the city of Oxford who cannot receive the oversight of the Bishop of Oxford, and will instead receive ministry from a nearby bishop acceptable to them, perhaps the Bishop of Guildford, who is known to have ‘sound’ views.

    However, let us be even-handed. It may be that the national decision is one of strict opt-in by individual parishes for (say) blessing same-sex couples, with the bishops all collectively standing aloof, so +Steven remains acceptable to St Ebbe’s. It might be that in Oxford only one parish, perhaps the University Church of St Mary the Virgin, wishes to bless same-sex couples. As I can recall from picturesquely beating the bounds as an undergraduate, their parish is also tiny, and not related to the congregation. So that could result in an Order of the opposite nature, declaring them to be the one parish in the city to which same-sex couples are allowed to resort, and placing them under the oversight of a specially identified liberal bishop, perhaps Alan Wilson of Buckingham.

    I hope it is obvious that I am to some extent thinking aloud, and that in reality much more detail would need to be worked out in every place concerned. In particular, the decisions on where Orders might need to be made and who could make them would need to be very carefully assigned, and it is doubtful that anyone would be happy leaving the sort of absolute power in the hands of diocesan bishops that is conferred by a BMO.  Perhaps a carefully constituted national Commission would be needed. But this might, perhaps, be a way to define the rights and positions of churches and people of different convictions that would have legal security without an ecclesiology that looks like schism in all but name.

  • Risking Reputations: The Process of Reconciliation and Belonging through the Lens of Ruth

    by Revd Joshua Askwith, Incumbent of Norbury Church, member of General Synod and Reconcilers Together, a partnership of peacemakers across the UK, Ireland, and North America

    Every so often my wife and I will come to the end of a long day and flop on the sofa in search of a movie to watch. We have our favourites, of course. We bicker over whether to pick something from the Universe of Marvel or Harry Potter. But, more often than not, we end up watching a romantic movie; ‘Notting Hill’, ‘Hitch’ or, if it’s Christmas, ‘Love Actually’. And who isn’t captured by a great love story? The story of individuals crossing boundaries, showing courage and, eventually, falling in love.

    I have often heard the Bible described as the world’s greatest love story. John 3:16 tells us that God loved the world so much that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life. God’s deepest yearning for His children is that we know that love and lean into it abundantly. Often, though, we don’t demonstrate the courage to cross boundaries; instead, we create communities of division. Entrenched by the views we think are correct, we do not ask courageous questions but instead belittle and degrade. We seem to fail to enact (or live out) that great love story that God invites us to be a part of.

    While it is not the most obvious of love stories, the book of Ruth is one of the greatest. Ruth and Naomi don’t always agree, but they model to us that need to cross boundaries, show courage, and to risk it all in order to learn to love and accept the family God has given to them.

    The story of Ruth begins with the tale of a Judaean family’s migration to Moab. Naomi, faced with the loss of her husband and two sons, has to make the courageous decision to return home. And so begins a process of reconciliation and love.

    This decision to return or repent in Hebrew is teshuva, from the verb lashuv. Lashuv appears eleven times in the remainder of Chapter 1 alone. It is a reminder that in repentance we can find love, reconciliation and hope. Any great love story needs more than a “first meet”. Each of our stories faces many moments of sadness and joy. Love stories are a process of learning to forgive and fall in love again and again. Teshuva towards God is a process with many acts of turning along the way: moments of repentance, reconciliation and love. This “return” or reconciliation is a process of journey, encounter and place (Lederach 1999, 26).

    While it may be Naomi who begins this journey towards reconciliation, it is Ruth who embodies the process through a series of surprising and risky encounters. From the outset, she’s a character of provocation and encounter, who takes the story into her own hands. Like Jacob wrestling with an angel in the desert, she grapples a blessing from God, and wrestles with society, risking her life in order that a family may return home. From fighting and following Naomi to risking her life in the harvest fields, Ruth seems willing to step out in faith and to trust that God will provide.

    These encounters are not the fluffy moments of the movies, but risky encounters of the most vulnerable. In each act, Ruth risks part of herself; physically and emotionally, she puts herself on the line and trusts in God. Any act of reconciliation involves such encounters of vulnerability and risk. Individuals put their lives, their belief, their love in the firing line.

    It is individuals, rather than the institution, who are in danger of being harmed. Through LLF, the Church of England has offered a dialogical approach, but this conversation is often one-sided. It is not the Church which is risking its reputation in starting the LLF process: it is those it has asked to risk themselves in taking part. Some of these conversations have been helpful. At a local level they have helped some congregations flourish and thrive. Others have not. I have heard of church members leaving congregations because they no longer feel safe. To enable an honest dialogue, the Church needs to take a risk as well.

    Towards the end of Ruth’s love story, she needs to take a life-threatening risk. Once the harvest season is over, Naomi sends Ruth to Boaz on the threshing floor. This is a moment of deep encounter but it is one which requires risk on both sides. Ruth could not have gone to Boaz if she had not already experienced some kind of grace or glimpsed some kind of hope. Yet the Church is asking individuals to take what can seem like life-threatening risks without offering any grace or pointing towards any hope.

    By taking risk, Ruth demonstrates that divine providence and human agency are inseparable; that the process of reconciliation cannot be completed without both God and us. Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury, writes

    that this is still the work of God today and the Church is at its glorious best when it seeks to demonstrate the pure and holy love of God in breaking barriers and when with courage it stands with those whose experience is of being barred from leading a full life, what Jesus calls an abundant life (2022, 104).

    Many have been barred from leading a full life. Many have walked away from the Church because it asks them to risk too much, to be harmed too much. If we have learnt anything from the recent call to safeguarding it should be that individuals should not have to risk themselves in hope of grace. Reconciliation cannot happen if an organisation is not willing to demonstrate the courage to hold up its hands and say it has got something wrong. The church cannot expect people to continue to persevere in the process if it does not take bolder steps.

    For reconciliation to take place, those in leadership need to be willing to admit their failings and risk their reputations. Boaz’s offer of protection came at a great risk to himself and his community but he chose to do it anyway. Ruth’s response only happened because the person who held the power was willing to risk his reputation and offer radical and practical grace.

    In the coming months, the College of Bishops meets to discuss the “way forward”. These discussions need to be open to the risky potential of grace. For only by offering practical protection, safety, and love can the church expect others to risk their reputation. The reconciliation of Naomi to her community was not easy. It took Ruth risking something in terms of reconciling another. There will be those of us who can risk our reputations to see people return to the church. But before any of that can take place, the Church needs to decide if it is willing to take the risk, stretch out its hand, and affirm that unity is what it is seeking; and to show that with a practical response of love.

    Further Reading

    Lederach, J. P. (1999). Journey toward Reconciliation. Herald Press.

    Tuama, Ó. P., & Jordan, G. (2021). Borders and Belonging: The book of Ruth: A story for our times. Canterbury Press.

    Volf, M. (2019). Exclusion & Embrace: A theological exploration of identity, otherness, and reconciliation. Abingdon Press.

    Welby, J. (2022). The Power of Reconciliation. Bloomsbury Continuum.