ViaMedia

Tag: House of Bishops

  • Far-right Threat: Why the Bishops’ Take on “National Unity” is not enough – Part 1

    by Savitri (Savi) Hensman. A British Sri Lankan lesbian and Church of England member, she has been a writer and activist for justice and inclusion in churches and society, at times holding leadership roles in key organisations. She has also worked in community development and involvement in research, public policy and services. These two pieces will occasionally touch on some of the grim realities of inequity and violence.

    Far right influence in England has grown sharply over the past dozen years. While minorities are most obviously affected, it is also harmful to the majority – and could have devastating effects in the not-too-distant future. A presentation and discussion on ‘Promoting Unity in our Nation’ at the July 2026 meeting of the Church of England’s General Synod raised important issues and offered some valuable insights, yet fell short in other ways. Building on what is positive, while improving on what is not, would help in tackling a serious threat to wellbeing across the UK – and strengthen the church’s ability to further inclusion in general.

    General Synod met against a backdrop of a worsening situation across the UK for people of colour (or global majority heritage: people may describe themselves in different ways) and others facing discrimination, not only on the streets but also in the corridors of power. Many feel unjustly targeted for wider social problems, in ways that may actually make these worse.

    “Friends, I don’t think we should be in any doubt – our democracy is under threat today,” Bishop of Leicester, Martyn Snow, warned when opening the agenda item. He chairs a Church of England Bishops’ Working Group on this issue, which had earlier circulated a paper.

    This paper presented its view of what was happening and why, the theological framework and what contribution the CofE could make. It ended with the text of a 2025 talk to the College of Bishops by Luke Bretherton, Regius Professor of Moral & Pastoral Theology at the University of Oxford, who is part of an Academic Reference Group. Interestingly, none of the other members of the Group were quoted.

    The paper describes high levels of distrust in institutions, scapegoating of certain minorities and a rising wealth gap; those feeling financially insecure and disconnected from society often also feel like “a stranger in my own country” and have little trust in neighbours. More positively, there is evidence of a “substantial and largely silent majority who are eager for institutions and leaders willing to speak for an inclusive English identity that rejects prejudice. The Church of England, present in every community, is uniquely placed to help that majority find its voice.”

    Previous unifying forces in Britain, the paper explains, have largely weakened or disappeared. Historian Linda Colley is quoted as identifying these as “Protestant Christianity (particularly framed in opposition to Catholicism), external military threat and imperial enterprise;” which, though their loss is welcome in many ways, has supposedly left a gap in “people’s sense of national identity and England’s place in the world.” The sense of common purpose arising from two world wars and National Service has likewise gone.

    I do wonder whether this sense of unity across classes and regions at Britain-wide level, or even in England, was ever really so strong and constant; think of tensions and sometimes strikes, even riots, over land clearances, food affordability, toll gates, rural and urban working conditions, lack of democracy and so forth. I think it interesting that for instance, in the nineteenth century, a Chartist movement attracting huge support, as well as powerful opposition, would choose as one of its top leaders William Cuffay, who was African-Caribbean, the son of a former slave from St Kitts and disabled. And perhaps the impact of wars on social relationships and belief in institutions and values was more complex. Maybe a look at historical strands which brought some (rather than all) sets of people together across diverse backgrounds, including empathy and solidarity in the quest for greater freedom, equity and democracy, might have been fruitful too?

    But I would not contest the finding that industrial decline, the drop in organisations bringing people together locally and media fragmentation have reduced the sense of connectedness. This has left “fewer shared spaces in which difference can be encountered and understood; and fewer common reference points which can cut across other identities” so that divisions can feel more acute.

    Another shift in the UK and elsewhere, in this instance overlooked by the bishops, was a gradual loss of awareness of the value of frameworks of human rights and international humanitarian law, even as these continued to develop. Though imperfect, these offered some protection from stark economic as well as social, political and cultural inequity and violence; and were about obligations to defend one’s neighbour from cruelty and injustice as much as about rights for oneself. As memories faded of the horrors of Nazism and colonialism, including slavery, these were largely overlooked or came under attack in various quarters.[1]

    In his speech, Bishop Martyn described the need to bring communities and the nation together as an urgent challenge. “If a very large number of people think our country is ‘broken’ and ‘divided’, it doesn’t matter whether we agree with them or not – the very fact that so many people think it, means that we should not be surprised if many start looking for increasingly radical solutions to ‘fix’ our nation,” he said. “And if those solutions don’t immediately work, the temptation will be to look for even more radical solutions – and history gives us plenty of examples of where that can lead.” Talks and small-group discussions followed this speech.

    I am grateful for church leaders’ genuine commitment to countering extreme racism and have much respect for the lead bishops on racial justice, Arun Arora of Kirkstall and Rosemarie Mallett of Croydon. In my view they combine willingness to speak out on uncomfortable issues with generosity of spirit. I believe in the importance of loving everyone, whatever their words and deeds; that listening and conversation can be effective in changing hearts and minds to counter injustice; and pain on all sides must be recognised; and that we need to acknowledge what is positive as well as negative in England’s present and past. Local Christian communities’ contribution to offering diverse people a chance to mix and share is indeed vital. Al Barrett, a theologian and vicar in a deprived Birmingham neighbourhood, has published his thought-provoking reflections on this, describing local attempts to embody love of neighbour during an anti-immigrant “protest” and UKIP march. In my own research and lived experience, I too have become vividly aware of the potential consequences when specific groups are targeted and how this can escalate into society-wide catastrophe if not effectively countered.

    But there is a tendency in the CofE – despite sincerely professing that all humans are made in God’s image – to take inequity for granted. And superficial “unity,” or protecting institutional reputations and resources, should not be confused with reconciliation through, and unity in, Christ.

    Each issue is unique. Yet there are certain areas of shared concern with what went so wrong at a later Synod debate on the lives and ministries of LGBTQIA+ people in the Church of England, reflected on afterwards by Charlie Baczyk-Bell and Robert Thompson, and indeed a badly mishandled safeguarding case of which an independent review was published days after Synod ended. I know that keeping organisations running can be tricky and life in community may require concessions, yet too often the cost is shunted on to those already marginalised or exploited, while possible areas of common ground are downplayed if this might offend the rich and powerful. Ultimately this does not even benefit those who oppress others or enable such oppression to happen. Shifts towards greater equity and inclusion can indeed be unsettling to people who have grown used to imbalances in wealth or status, or who believe that unequal treatment based on difference may be justified in certain instances (e.g. supposedly based on objective factors or God’s will). Sensitivity is important, along with recognition that sometimes attempts to rectify past wrongs may be clumsy or overlook complexity. But treating those upset by a measure aimed at greater inclusion as particularly vulnerable can increase their sense of vulnerability and encourage them to make further demands, while also fending off their awareness of the harm which exclusion can cause. I believe that we all, at some point in this world or the next, to be saved, must come to terms with the humanity of those whose worth we failed to respect.

    More immediately, the far-right misuse of Christianity to cover prejudice and injustice with a veneer of sanctity, though not new, has been taking highly sophisticated forms in the UK and internationally. Some mainstream churches’ focus on increasing the number of worshippers or people identifying as Christian, as well as small-scale initiatives bringing people together locally which are valuable but are not nearly enough, have left the door open. My family and I have witnessed, and experienced, grave consequences when various religions have been twisted in such ways, and how this has ended up harming even majority groups who were meant to benefit. Taking action now may make a major difference in the near future.

    In the second part of my reflections, I will offer suggestions on what might assist the Church of England, locally and nationally, to resist the far-right surge and perhaps hold on to its integrity, if things go downhill.

    [1] Some of the effects of the erosion of human rights in the UK, which left some people at extra risk when the pandemic hit, are outlined in a chapter I contributed to a book published in 2021 on COVID and co-production, free online. Since then, the situation has got worse.

  • Evolution not Revolution: Creating Change in Working-Class Ministry in the Church of England

    by Fr Alex Frost, Vicar of St Matthews, Burnley, author of Our Daily Bread: From Argos to the Altar, and member of General Synod, 2021-2026

    In mid-July I was invited for lunch and Holy Communion with The Archbishop of Canterbury, Sarah Mullally, to offer thanks for my work on Working Class Vocations at the Church of England General Synod. I’ve written about this on Via Media before, and then in 2025 I was able to bring a Private Member’s Motion asking the Church to produce a strategy to encourage lay and ordained vocations from people with working class backgrounds. The invitation to Lambeth Palace for lunch was alongside my colleagues in the working party group which was formed to follow up on that Motion, which was led by the Bishop of Barking, Lynne Cullens, and included some incredible voices from General Synod. 

    It was a wonderful occasion, and I was most humbled to represent St Matthew’s church in Burnley at such a historic place as Lambeth Palace. Despite the grandeur of the palace, the visit was reflective of the working-class strategy I’d proposed, and so both Holy Communion and lunch were without too much fuss but with a beautiful simplicity. 

    In the debate on that Private Member’s Motion, Robb Sutherland, a working-class vicar from Leeds, memorably said “One day, I hope to be sharing an Iceland prawn ring with whoever is resident of Lambeth Palace.” And yes, lunch last month included a prawn ring (although not an Iceland one), homemade sandwiches and crisps with a Victoria sponge and a cup of coffee. Archbishop Sarah was very kind and generous to me and the rest of our working group and promised to advocate for more working-class vocations. We discussed some of the ongoing challenges, particularly around finance and the well-being of ordinands who enter training. And I made the point that, despite improvements in the way ordinands are funded, when it comes to working-class ordinands with children, then if one of the parents isn’t working finance is a huge concern.  

    Sarah wanted to know how she could advocate more for working-class people, and we suggested by ensuring all dioceses were switched on and actively exploring what they might do better to welcome more working-class candidates.  

    We also discussed working-class leaders at the highest level, and Bishop Lynne was clear in her view that there are simply not enough working-class Bishops in the Church of England, meaning that the hierarchy still has a whiff of private school membership and power that comes from a place of privilege. 

    Within all these discussions, I am acutely aware that the Archbishop of Canterbury doesn’t have a magic wand and can’t ‘hey presto’ change in the church with immediate effect. And I still believe the church is nowhere near where it needs to be supporting and championing working-class people, but if nothing else, our voice has been heard loud and clear. 

    Being part of this process and on General Synod for the last five years has made me realize that when an institution is under the control of so many different Bishops, traditions and theologies, changing anything radically is almost impossible. Bishop Lynne reminded me that the Church of England is about evolution not revolution, which is a stark reminder for those of us who seek change and who want the church to become more diverse and inclusive. 

    Talking of change and diversity, the working-party I have been part of is now dissolved, and a new group will be formed. It’s clear those who will now take this working-class project forward are seeking new voices, more diversity and for the BAME community to be represented more widely. This is of course good news, but this means that some excellent voices from the group will be lost, which is a shame. 

    As I step back from front line activism on a national scale regarding working-class vocations, I will do all I can in my own Parish to ensure working-class vocations are prioritized, upheld and encouraged. 

    I remain convinced that working-class Christians can breathe new life into a struggling institution that is held back by elitism, power and control at the highest level. For this to happen, more voices need to be heard, more working-class priests need to be present, and more Bishops need to understand that God-given gifts include people who paint walls and not just people who paint pictures, along with people who cut hair, people who wipe bottoms, and people who have experience and knowledge of serving the poor and most vulnerable people in our society.  

    I’m not convinced we will see an explosion of working-class ministers any time soon, but by the grace of God, and by opening the flood gates to allow the Holy Spirit to get in, our grand old institution might just wake up to the exciting potential of change that it so badly needs. 

  • Where’s My Bishop?

    by the Revd Robert Thompson, Vicar St Mary’s, Kilburn & St James’, West Hampstead; host of Open Table, London; from 2021-26, member of General Synod

    “Your Father who sees in secret…” (Matthew 6.4)

    The gospels record Jesus speaking often about the relationship between the hidden life and the public life. Again and again Jesus calls the disciples towards integrity, where what is true before God increasingly becomes visible in the way we live before one another. “Your Father who sees in secret…” is not an invitation to secrecy, but a reminder that the God who knows us most deeply also calls us to become people of truth.

    General Synod has its own discipline of accountability. Our debates are public and preserved on YouTube. Our speeches are public. Our votes are public. Then, a week or so after each meeting of Synod finishes, for every vote where a formal count has been requested, a list of who voted for, who voted against and who abstained is also made public. That is not an administrative detail but a substantive expression of accountability. Those of us entrusted with teaching and governing the Church exercise that ministry publicly and we are answerable to the Church we serve.

    For the July 2026 Synod, the lists of those who voted and in what way were published on 23 July. Helen King brought to Synod a Private Members’ Motion on the Christian dignity of those of us who are LGBTQIA+ followers of Jesus Christ, and the defeat of this motion, as amended, by a mere three votes in the House of Bishops has already attracted criticism. The voting patterns of our bishops have especially caused much criticism. People have been asking, “How did my bishop vote?” And now it is possible to see.

    Here, however, I want to focus not simply on how bishops voted, but on what the votes reveal about the Church and the episcopacy itself.

    For seven years the Living in Love and Faith process has invited the Church to “walk together”. We have listened to one another’s stories. We have studied Scripture. We have repented of the harm caused to LGBTQIA+ people. We have created the Prayers of Love and Faith, and allowed them to be used with same-sex couples in existing church services. Like the Syrophoenician woman (Mark 7.24–30), many LGBTQIA+ Christians feel they are invited to be grateful for crumbs rather than welcomed to the table itself. The Prayers of Love and Faith have brought real pastoral good. Yet many still experience them not as full recognition but as permission to gather the crumbs which are left over. Ordinands and clergy in relationships, civil partnerships and same-sex marriages still live with uncertainty, and the Church remains unable to articulate a settled pastoral vision, let alone a theological one. This debate was therefore about much more than sexuality.

    The first amendment to Helen King’s motion, proposed by Jamie Harrison, restated where we are after the February vote to set up another working group and would largely have continued the present post-LLF process as one not too dissimilar to that which we have experienced in those last seven years. But Synod declined that route.

    The debate then moved to Christopher Dalliston’s amendment. Helen King has described that amendment – which she supported – and its purpose here. Where Jamie Harrison’s amendment asked whether the process should continue, Christopher Dalliston’s amendment asked a much deeper question: what kind of Church do we already believe ourselves to be? It was not primarily about sexual ethics but about ecclesiology. Christopher invited Synod to affirm that all baptised, believing and faithful people, regardless of sexual orientation, are full members of the Body of Christ; to delight in the lives and ministries of LGBTQIA+ people; and to recognise a legitimate range of theological conviction across the Church. This last point was a conscious attempt to respond to concerns heard from those who are not willing to affirm what the original motion, and the amendment, described as “committed, faithful, intimate same-sex relationships”. This amendment passed in all three Houses. Only then did the amended motion – the same wording as the Dalliston amendment – fail in the House of Bishops.

    The figures deserve careful attention. The House of Bishops has fifty-three voting places. At the time of the vote seven diocesan sees were vacant, and ‘acting bishops’ are not allowed a vote. Perhaps five bishops were unavailable because of illness, suspension or having stepped back from ministry. That left forty-one bishops who could reasonably have been expected to participate. The recorded votes were 11 in favour, 14 against, 4 abstentions, leaving twelve bishops with no recorded vote. Even allowing for two or three bishops on duty in the House of Lords on that day, and one who may be on sabbatical before taking up his appointment, nearly a fifth of those who might reasonably have participated left no recorded vote. Some may have had entirely understandable reasons and perhaps will explain them to those in their diocese. But the numbers still matter, when the difference between those in favour and those against was a mere 3 votes.

    For LGBTQIA+ Anglicans these debates are not abstract constitutional exercises. They concern our relationships, vocations, ministries and families. As a gay priest, I found this high number of non-recorded votes deeply sobering. Not because I presume to know anyone’s motives, but because when questions touch the heart of your vocation, the absence of a recorded position is itself something you notice. Episcopal leadership is also about being willing to be counted. Yet I suspect that observation only scratches the surface. The more interesting question is this: what do we and our bishops believe episcopacy is for?

    One result prompted particularly searching conversations among LGBTQIA+ clergy. Sarah Mullally, the Archbishop of Canterbury, voted against the amended motion. That surprised many queer colleagues because it sat in tension with the pastoral experience some of us have had of Sarah’s ministry. I have no wish to speculate about the reasons. But the contrast raises an important theological question. Do we and do bishops sometimes believe that the office they hold necessarily requires a distinction between the convictions they carry pastorally and the positions they feel able to express publicly?

    Before Synod began, I wrote on behalf of colleagues about the presence at York of campaigning organisations whose activities many LGBTQIA+ members and allies experienced as hostile. My concern was never about silencing disagreement. It was about creating the conditions in which the whole Church could genuinely discern together. In their written response, Sarah Mullally, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Stephen Cottrell, the Archbishop of York, agreed that the exhibition stall should not be permitted, while allowing the associated fringe meeting to proceed. The distinction rested on one activity being public and the other being regarded as private. Yet the fringe meeting had already been advertised in the official General Synod fringe programme and published on Synod’s public website. The boundary between public and private proved far less straightforward than it first appeared. That, perhaps, is another reminder that the distinction with which this essay began is never as neat as we imagine. It is also one of the deepest responsibilities of an episkopos to help the Church discern not only where those boundaries lie, but when they have ceased to illuminate the truth and begun instead to obscure it. Perhaps that is why one of the most moving moments of this Synod came when Nicholas Chamberlain, the Bishop of Grantham, spoke publicly about his own life as a gay man. It mattered because truthfulness itself became a pastoral act. In that moment episcopal leadership was expressed not through institutional management but through honest witness.

    The Greek word episkopos means an overseer, one who watches over the Church. A bishop is not simply an institutional governor or constitutional referee. A bishop is called to discern where the Holy Spirit is leading God’s people, to teach the faith, to guard communion and to keep before the Church the horizon of the Reign of God which is both embodied and fulfilled in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Unity matters profoundly. But the purpose of episcopal ministry is not simply to preserve communion. It is to enable the Church to become more fully what, in Christ, it already is. The calling of an episkopos is not simply to keep the Church together. It is to help the Church recognise more clearly the Reign of God already breaking into the life of the world, to help the Church see that reign of justice and peace more clearly and to proclaim and embody it as Christ’s Body.

    But we and the bishops were not simply being asked to affirm the dignity of LGBTQIA+ people as an ethical question. We were being asked a theological question, to affirm what baptism already declares: that LGBTQIA+ Christians are already full members of the Body of Christ, their lives and ministries being offered as gifts to the whole Church. That is why the bishops’ response matters so much. The question before them was not simply ethical but theological. It asked whether the House of Bishops could distinguish questions of sexual ethics from the prior ecclesiological claim made in baptism.

    Earlier this year I found myself asking, ‘What kind of Church are we becoming?’ This Synod has led me to ask a related question: what kind of bishops are we forming? The two questions cannot be separated.

    Let me be clear. This is not an argument that every bishop should have voted as I would have wished. Episcopacy is not measured by agreement. It is measured by faithfulness. My question is a different one. What understanding of episcopal ministry leads so many bishops to conclude that, on one of the defining pastoral and theological questions of our generation, leaving no recorded public position is the most faithful exercise of their office?

    Jesus called his disciples not simply to preserve what already existed, but to proclaim that the Reign of God had drawn near. That remains the calling of every Christian. It surely remains the calling of every bishop.

    After seven years of Living in Love and Faith, perhaps the question is no longer simply: ‘Where’s my bishop?’

    The deeper question is this: What kind of Church do we believe Christ is calling into being—and do our bishops feel free to lead us towards it?

  • The End of the Synod: Grieving for Love

    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

    I will admit that the defeat at this July’s General Synod meeting of the Private Member’s Motion on the lives and loves of LGBTQIA people hit me really hard.

    I think most of us who are hardened ‘campaigners’ – a term I dislike, because it is pejorative, othering, and suggests we are somehow out on a limb whereas we are simply calling for our basic dignity to be respected – are used to being treated poorly in the General Synod. Most of us are used to having to dust ourselves down, get back up, and get back on with it. Most of us are used to being held to higher standards, to turning the other cheek, to forgiving when our so-called shepherds let us down, repeatedly. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t keep at this soul-destroying slog through every obstacle that can possibly be put in the way of queer equality. Yet as the vote came in – laity and clergy in favour, bishops split, and overall, against – I felt, for the first time in a long while, a real sense of grief.

    I felt bereft and betrayed – I knew that people in that chamber, who had pledged apology and change, didn’t value us quite enough to say they loved us. I knew that – whatever the excuses – there were some bishops in that chamber who simply didn’t think we were worth it. There were some who had listened to their brother bishop, the ‘openly gay’ Bishop of Grantham, and said ‘we have no need of you’. We know there are some in the Synod chamber for whom compromise is a dirty word – we’ve seen that time and time again – but there were some who should have had our back, and didn’t. It hurt – a great deal.

    Aggrieved and let down is possibly the best way to describe LGBTQIA members of Synod as many of us ate lunch together that day. It is not a good place to be at the end of a bruising Synod. I do sometimes wonder whether those inside the chamber realise how their words and their actions are heard outside. The very same morning that we were unable to say anything positive about LGBTQIA people in this debate, the ridiculous Synod fringe on what is misleadingly called conversion ‘therapy’ took place – with a decision to allow it to go ahead made on the basis that nobody need attend if they didn’t want to (I did attend – it was unconvincing and sad, but – perhaps surprisingly – just incredibly boring). Most of us were pretty grossed out that this event would be allowed at all, yet the irony was not lost on me after the Synod debate: what was said in the chamber was not said in private in a fringe, but was very much public, very much heard by those outside. And, judging from many conversations in the wake of this car crash, it has done an awful lot of damage.

    One of the things I have become most interested in since getting more involved in the machinations of the church is the underlying psychological dynamics. I would say this, wouldn’t I, but we do love to dress up our decision-making and common life in theological vestments when good old sociology and psychology would do. The current behaviour of the House of Bishops is a good example. The overriding narrative – not one, I should say, that is owned by all members – is that ‘consensus’ is the key thing. It’s like a retreat to the pre-LLF days, where all bishops allegedly thought the same about everything, but couched in different terms (remember the 2017 Take Note debate, where they all voted the same way, except the Bishop of Coventry, who pushed the wrong button).

    There were a remarkable number of different ways to present this new way of inhabiting episcopacy. ‘We have a fragile consensus’, we were told, time and again, which meant that LLF had been ‘concluded well’ in February, and we mustn’t upend that now – dishonest in the extreme. The vapid and erroneous ‘focus of unity’ argument was there underneath the surface, even if nobody had the guts to pretend they believed in it this time. The Working Groups need to be ‘allowed to do their work’ and saying anything more at this stage would ruin that (not, of course, that the chair of the new working group had been asked, however much straight white men decided to speak for her). We are told that there would be difficulties in the Anglican Communion (whatever that is supposed to mean). There was a particularly egregious speech that suggested that the use of the word ‘legitimate’ might ruin everything (not having read, it appears, Section 7 of the LLF book which accepts seven different ways of reading the Bible), and other bizarre speeches suggesting that intimacy was all about sex (beautifully addressed by the final speech by the Bishop of Dover, suggesting we might, as a church, stop our obsession with sex whenever the word intimacy is used). Big beasts of the House stood up and tried to shut down further debate, and the majority of the House of Bishops voted for a wrecking amendment, which the rest of us saw off nicely. Consensus, it seems to me, is yet another word for doing nothing.

    Yet it was clear which way the debate was leaning and how the votes would fall, and it is hard to see the final vote as anything other than a key example of tactical stupidity. As every House accepted the Dalliston amendment – which simply stated facts about the current divisions in the church and synod about same-sex relationships, yet which also dared to suggest that the Synod ‘delights in the lives and ministries of LGBTQIA+ people in the Church of England’ – the final vote offered an opportunity for those outside the chamber to finally hear something positive about LGBTQIA people. Just imagine, if queer young people could have heard us say that we delight in them; if queer people in ministry could hear that we delighted in them. Just imagine if that is how we had ended the last five years of bruising debate. Yet ever able and willing to snatch defeat out of the jaws of victory, when it came to voting on the motion as amended, the House of Bishops said ‘no thanks’, and chose to sink the whole thing. This might have suited their ‘consensus’, but if they think anyone outside their echo chamber gives a fig about that, then they’re even more deluded than they appeared on the floor of the chamber. We got the message loud and clear – we don’t matter to them.

    The House, of course, has been there before – lest we forget that Take Note debate of 2017 which launched the whole LLF process, where the clergy quite rightly gave the House of Bishops a bloody nose for their offer of ‘same old, but with more smiling’. Yet, and this is why my initial grief has turned to a sense of committed and furious determination, there are key differences this time. Both laity and clergy voted for the motion, in bigger numbers than in any previous LLF debate. And, crucially, the House of Bishops is split. Almost enough of those who were present at Synod that day voted with us to get this thing over the line. The tide is turning, and whilst enough members of the House of Bishops wish to stick their fingers in their ears and pretend it’s not happening, it is. There is a clear direction of travel. And what a time to see a turning of the tide – as General Synod elections come over the horizon.

    Which is why we now have a job to do. It is essential – absolutely essential – that the General Synod be a little more reflective of the Church of England more widely. For years, well-funded, reactionary factions have played their politics hard and flooded the chamber of General Synod with their votes. No more of this. The General Synod might be tedious and tiresome, but it matters – in the next quinquennium we will be voting for new members of the Crown Nominations Commission (currently hugely disproportionately filled with conservative votes) and we will finally be debating whether diocesan Acting Bishops can vote in Synod. The new Working Group on Relationships, Sexuality and Gender will be bringing proposals to the General Synod that could finally end the discrimination faced by clergy in marriages to people of the same sex. And we will find, I imagine, that ‘consensus’ rather changes its spots when the General Synod becomes more decisively inclusive. There will be a chance for us to make concrete steps in the right direction, and to help create a church that truly loves, values, and delights in all its people.

    So, however frustrating, this is not all about bishops.  We do no good spending all our time pointing the fingers of blame, though let us remember the good Anglican polity of bishop-in-Synod, and hold them accountable. Almost half of them stood with us. Once we know who voted which way, we will see who our true allies and friends are – and we must encourage them. The ones who didn’t vote in favour, because they worshipped the idols of consensus or unity, will need to answer to those in their pastoral care, and ultimately to God: are we worth so little that preserving echo chamber consensus is more important? Yet ultimately it is about getting over the grief and channelling the anger and the frustration towards changing the way we are treated. It is even, dare I say, about trying to rise above that anger and striving for the good of the church – a church that is desperate to break free from the reactionary tendencies that have so imprisoned it these long years. A church that can be more what the church should be, by saying to each of its members ‘we have need of you’.

    The General Synod let us down last week. Now is the time to make sure that doesn’t happen again.

  • Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

    by Revd Ruth Harley (Vicar, Cowgate and Priest in Charge, Newbiggin Hall)

    When General Synod meets in the coming week, the Archbishop of York will move a motion beginning “that this Synod recognise and lament the distress and pain many have suffered during the LLF process, especially LGBTQI+ people.” This is the start of the motion (coming from GS 2426) which effectively brings the long Living in Love and Faith process to an end, with no progress made towards greater equality for LGBTQI+ people within the Church of England.

    This is not the first time we have seen an LLF motion before Synod which starts like this. Compare and contrast the motion brought to Synod in February 2023 (from GS 2289): “That this Synod… 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.”

    Recognise, lament, repent… none of these are quite an apology for harm done, though they may be spun that way. And indeed apologies have been given, in statements from the House of Bishops and on the floor of Synod. In the ‘letter to the church’ issued by the House of Bishops in January, they acknowledge that “many, holding a variety of convictions, have felt, and still feel, bruised, hurt or unsafe by the conversations and the discussions we have had, particularly LGBTQI+ people. We are very sorry that the process has become so protracted and painful.” They are sorry, we are assured. But evidently not sorry enough to make any real changes.

    The House of Bishops apparently wishes to “recognise and lament the distress and pain” which this process and the church’s stance on same-sex relationships causes to LGBTQI+ people. But it does not wish that lament to lead to any material changes which might reduce that distress and pain by making a meaningful move towards the much-vaunted “radical new Christian inclusion” which Justin Welby called for (but, again, made no actual moves towards) back at the start of the long, drawn-out and ultimately fruitless LLF process.

    For those of us who have been following the sorry saga of the Church of England’s conversations about sexuality for some time, there may be a bit of a sense of déjà vu about all this. Back in 2017 the report from the House of Bishops on the Shared Conversations (GS 2055), the rejection of which kickstarted the LLF process, proposed “establishing across the Church of England a fresh tone and culture of welcome and support for lesbian and gay people, for those who experience same sex attraction, and for their families, and continuing to work toward mutual love and understanding on these issues across the Church”.  This is even further from an actual apology, but it serves the same function as the apology, lament and repentance we have already considered: it sounds like we are doing something, without actually making any real changes. I wrote about this at the time, and every word of that blog post, written almost a decade ago, could apply equally to the present situation. As I say, we have not made progress.

    The problem with all these apologies and non-apologies, laments and calls for repentance is three-fold:

    1. They are deceptive. They imply something which is not true. They imply that there is a real care and concern for LGBTQI+ people in this process, which has never been there. They also imply a hope for change – because surely if you can see and hear and lament that your siblings in Christ are suffering because of your actions, you will change your actions? – which again is not substantiated by the (lack of) actions of those making these statements.
    2. They devalue the very concepts they claim to espouse: lament, repentance, apology. These are things which should mean something. And when the action undermines the words, that meaning is eroded. Repentance, in particular, is a concept which carries weight in the life of the church. It is about turning away from past sin, from past perpetuation of harm. To claim repentance, and indeed lament, while continuing to perpetuate the same harm is at best disingenuous, and at worst deeply damaging to the body of Christ.
    3. They undermine the integrity and unity of the church. Our integrity is undermined when we do not speak honestly to one another about our present position or our future intentions. To claim, as the House of Bishops did in their ‘letter to the church’ that “we dare to hope that the LLF process will leave a legacy of greater inclusion of LGBTQI+ people in the life of the Church of England” while refusing to act in any way that might give substance to that hope, is deeply lacking in integrity. The unity of the church (repeatedly emphasised as a priority in the LLF process) is undermined when it is build on a fundamental unwillingness to acknowledge the true nature of our diversity and our divisions.

    These are not small issues. A non-apology (or even an apology) which lacks substance, or indeed is undermined by the substance of the motion which follows it, is not just one more slap in the face to those of us faithful LGBTQI+ members of the Church of England who have engaged at such great cost in an ultimately fruitless exercise which has done nothing to move us towards greater justice and equality within the body of Christ, and indeed has (arguably) taken us backwards in some respects. It is also a statement which undermines the integrity of the body of Christ.

    If we are going to move forward together, then we have to start by being honest with one another. An honest apology, lament or repentance will be backed up by real action which leads to real change. Without that, it is worse than meaningless, it is harmful.

    Until that comes, perhaps the best we can do is to pray with the psalmist: “Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt.” (Psalm 123.4)

     

     

     

  • What is Anglican Sex Anyway?

    by Revd Canon Neil Patterson, Vice-Dean of Bristol Cathedral and Chair of Together for the Church of England

    Everyone knows that the Church of England likes arguing about sex, but in all our recent debates we have been curiously reluctant to define what it actually is. This matters, because there are different answers, and what the Church is telling individual couples is quite different depending on the answer to this question. To make some progress, we need to go back a few decades…

    The ‘Higton Motion’

    The 1987 debate on sexuality has become somewhat mythologised in the history of the subject, though there are people still around, indeed on Synod, who were there. By comparison, I am relying on the Proceedings and contemporary reports, and recognise the limitations of that. However, it is significant that the motion Synod passed was not that originally proposed by the Revd Tony Higton, which had received a record number of 168 signatures in the time between the July and November groups of sessions. As submitted, his motion read:

    ‘This Synod reaffirms the biblical standard, given for the well-being of society:

    • that sexual intercourse should take place only between a man and a woman who are married to each other;
    • that fornication, adultery and homosexual acts are sinful in all circumstances;
    • that Christian leaders are called to be exemplary in all spheres of morality, including sexual morality, as a condition of being appointed to or remaining in office;

    and calls upon the Church to show Christ-like compassion to those who have fallen into sexual sin, encouraging them to repent and receive absolution, and offering the ministry of healing to all who suffer physically or emotionally as a result of such sin.

    Although not the only element of the motion, the speeches of Higton and his supporters, combined with his document Sexuality and the Church which had been distributed, as if a Synod paper, to all members, make it clear that his major aim was to push the bishops to purge the church of gay clergy.

    It seems that the Bishops were prepared for this. The House of Bishops minutes for the 1980s are now public at Lambeth Palace Library, but mostly do not reveal much, being a bare record of decisions taken. However, in October 1987 they had noted the impending Higton debate, and recorded the proposal of their own Standing Committee that the House should propose as an amendment the following, much milder, text:

    ‘This Synod affirms the Christian tradition that sexual intercourse is only appropriate within marriage; requests the House of Bishops, in the light of the advice it receives from the BSR [Board of Social Responsibility] Working Party, to report to the Synod in due course on issues to do with homosexuality; and calls on all Christians to be exemplary in all spheres of morality including sexual morality.’

    In the event, perhaps following discussion with multiple parties, what actually appeared, following a long speech from Archbishop Robert Runcie which reads as fence-sitting even by his standards, was a detailed amendment by the Bishop of Chester, replacing Higton’s text with the following:

    ‘This Synod affirms that the biblical and traditional teaching on chastity and fidelity in personal relationships is a response to, and expression of, God’s love for each one of us, and in particular affirms:

    • that sexual intercourse is an act of total commitment which belongs properly within a permanent married relationship,
    • that fornication and adultery are sins against this ideal, and are to be met with a call to repentance and the exercise of compassion,
    • that homosexual genital acts also fall short of this ideal,
    • that all Christians are called to be exemplary in all spheres of morality, including sexual morality, and that holiness of life is particularly required of Christian leaders.’

    As well as the generally milder language, it is important to note that this amendment, presumably agreed by the bishops ahead of the debate, drew a distinction between ‘sexual intercourse’ proper to marriage and ‘homosexual genital acts’ as a different category. Traditionally the former refers to the entry of a penis into a vagina, the necessary act for the consummation of a marriage or the act of adultery (and the reason President Bill Clinton famously felt able to deny doing it with ‘that woman, Miss Lewinsky’). I will return to this distinction, though I will abbreviate the latter unlovely expression to ‘HGAs.’

    That was not the end of the matter – an amendment to the amendment was offered by the Revd Dr P.R. Forster, as he then was (subsequently himself the Bishop of Chester) to add to the bishops’ clause three, ‘and are likewise to be met by a call to repentance and the exercise of compassion’, supported by a speech emphasising the pastoral angle of the whole debate. There was almost no debate, +Chester being neutral and Higton supportive in single sentences, and the amendment to the amendment was made, seemingly without much fuss. And it was this text, proposed by the Bishop of Chester and amended by Forster, which the Synod went on to pass by an overwhelming majority, with lasting effect. The Forster amendment is important, because it eliminated the subtlety of the original bishops’ text (which could be read as seeing gay sex as a lesser, but tolerable, thing than married ‘sexual intercourse’) in favour of a moral equivalence to ‘adultery and fornication.’ (The latter term, incidentally, appeared to be taken as read without any debate about what exactly it might include). Other amendments were also debated but rejected.

    Contemporary reports of the Higton debate, however, do not record it as a great moral victory for the conservative cause, but rather a successful defusing by the bishops of a divisive motion. In subsequent Synods, Higton and allies like David Holloway can be found persistently asking official Questions about the application of the resolution to clergy and especially ordinands, making it clear they believed the bishops were still insufficiently vigorous in excluding gay candidates. And whilst they may have been disappointed in the bishops’ rigour, it seems to me that the text of the motion passed influenced the subsequent Issues in Human Sexuality, where the freedom of conscience afforded to lay same-sex couples was not extended to the clergy. Issues also chose not to refer to HGAs, instead adopting “active homophile relationship,” a terminology almost as baffling as it is contentious.

    The distinction between sexual intercourse and HGAs remains significant, however. My sense is that in LGBTQ+ culture, it is accepted that ‘sex’ actually embraces a range of different things, all of which are probably HGAs, but which are different for different couples, with no simple equivalent of the normative status of ‘sexual intercourse’ (and, obviously, for each particular couple, none of anybody else’s business). I am sure lots of straight people will want to point out how varied and interesting their sex lives are too! But it is difficult to ignore the place of intercourse as the legally significant act for centuries, not least as the only sexual act which can lead to the conception of children, and so undoubtedly of primary moral significance.

    Why does this matter now? Well, as I explored in my last blog here, the 1995 debate on Something to Celebrate led to the 1999 Marriage: A Teaching Document which affirms among other things that “Sexual intercourse, as an expression of faithful intimacy, properly belongs within marriage exclusively.” It was this text in turn which was included (albeit only as a quotation, not a direction) in the 2012 Guidelines for the Professional Conduct of the Clergy. If, like surely every strong conservative in the Church of England, we accept the importance of the 1987 motion passed by such a strong majority, making a clear distinction between sexual intercourse and HGAs, then it is clear that the Guidelines are entirely silent on the latter. This will obviously be of significance to all ordinands and clergy in same-sex relationships, since the Guidelines have recently replaced Issues in the discernment process, by uncharacteristically efficient action of the House of Bishops since the overwhelming passage of a Private Member’s Motion sponsored by Mae Christie at General Synod in July 2025. It is just possible that one or two of those who voted for it did not appreciate the full significance of the change.

    This remains important, because the Guidelines are in the process of revision, and a draft has now been published for discussion at the meeting of the Convocations immediately preceding General Synod, on Monday 9th February. The draft text introduces reference to civil partnerships, and wisely maintains silence on HGAs, quoting once again from Marriage: A Teaching Document.

    But those who have drafted the revision still seem to be trying to influence the ongoing debate on sexuality. Otiose references to Canon B.30 (at §7.8) and to the necessity of obeying law (at §8.3) will be read as unbalanced attempts to strengthen the hand of those who wish to act against clergy who have entered same-sex marriages. More seriously, §7.9 enshrines the 2014 House of Bishops statement on same-sex marriage into the Guidelines, but this is necessarily due for replacement on account of its reliance on Issues. No doubt the clergy in Convocation will be able to make their voices heard on these matters, and it seems unlikely that with the present balance of the House of Clergy the draft Guidelines will be endorsed unamended. The existing Guidelines were drafted by a wise and wide committee led by Prebendary David Houlding; from all I hear, such breadth was not sought on this occasion, and the consequences are evident.

     

  • Marriage, Sabbath, Creation and Jesus’s Embodiment of Justice

    by the Revd Robert Thompson, Vicar St Mary’s, Kilburn & St James’, West Hampstead; host of Open Table, London; member of General Synod

    Like many, my deep disappointment at yesterday’s statement from the House of Bishops on the ending of the Living in Love and Faith process is charged with much anger too. The bishops have confirmed that no proposals will come to February’s General Synod on standalone services of blessing for same-sex couples, nor on permitting clergy or ordinands to enter same-sex civil marriages without canonical penalty. Once again, this position is presented as embodying the need for prudence, pastoral care, and church unity. But delay is never neutral. It is a decision, and this decision has a human cost.

    In the Church of England, we have already acknowledged the hurt caused to LGBTQIA + people by our teaching and practice. We have recognised that faithful same-sex relationships can bear the fruits of love, fidelity, patience, and self-giving. We have commended Prayers of Love and Faith as a sign that something has shifted. And yet, when it comes to equality that is visible, embodied, and trusted, equality that can stand on its own, we hesitate.

    Prayers may be offered, but only when embedded discreetly within other services. Love may be recognised, but not sufficiently to shape worship in its own right. Relationships may be affirmed, but not enough to allow those who live them to represent the Church publicly as priests. This is not full inclusion. It is calculated containment.

    Marriage and Creation

    Defenders of the status quo in our debates have often appealed to “creation” to justify this restraint. Marriage, we are told, is a gift of God given in creation and therefore cannot be changed. Doctrine, it is claimed, does not develop but is merely preserved. To alter the Church’s practice in relation to marriage or ministry would therefore be to abandon biblical faithfulness. But this appeal to creation is far less secure, biblically and theologically, than is often assumed.

    In the Genesis narratives, humanity is indeed created for relationship. It is “not good that the human should be alone” (Genesis 2.18), and human beings are created for mutuality and companionship (Genesis 1.26–28). Yet Adam and Eve are never described as being married. There is no ritual, no vow, no covenantal form, and no divine command instituting marriage as a fixed social or sacramental institution within the act of creation itself. Marriage, as a recognisable human institution, emerges later, shaped by kinship systems, law, property, and culture.

    The oft-quoted line that “a man shall leave his father and mother and cling to his wife” (Genesis 2.24) is not spoken by God but offered by the narrator, already presupposing settled social arrangements beyond Eden. Genesis gives us anthropology, an account of human relationality, not canon law.

    Sabbath and Creation

    By contrast, there is something in the creation narrative that is explicitly named, blessed, and sanctified by God: the Sabbath. Genesis tells us that God rests on the seventh day, blesses it, and makes it holy (Genesis 2.2–3). If anything can be said to be unambiguously “given in creation”, it is the Sabbath.

    This comparison and distinction matters profoundly. Because when Jesus encounters the Sabbath, not as a vague symbol but as a divinely instituted, creation-grounded command, he does not freeze it in place. Nor does he treat its creational status as a reason to resist reinterpretation. Instead, he makes a striking claim: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath” (Mark 2.27).

    Jesus does not deny the holiness of the Sabbath. He fulfils it by re-articulating its purpose. A creation-given institution is revealed to exist for life, mercy, and human flourishing. When it is used to wound, exclude, or constrain, it has been misunderstood and is not honoured. This instinct lay at the heart of the teaching of the Hebrew prophets: the preservation of life takes precedence over rigid application of law.

    This pattern runs consistently through the Gospels. Jesus heals on the Sabbath (Matthew 12.1–14; Luke 13.10–17; Luke 14.1–6), restoring dignity where religious anxiety would have preferred restraint. He insists that mercy, not sacrifice, reveals the heart of God (Hosea 6.6; Matthew 9.13). Law is not abolished, but fulfilled, and fulfilment in biblical terms does not mean repetition, but faithful interpretation ordered towards life.

    Jesus’s and the Apostles’ hermeneutic of Justice

    Jesus’s way of reading Scripture is not an innovation imposed from outside Israel’s faith, but stands squarely within the prophetic tradition of Judaism, in which God’s commands are continually re-heard in the light of suffering, historical change, and the demands of justice. His teaching does not replace the law; it discloses its purpose.

    The same authority is evident when Jesus contrasts inherited teaching with his own words: “You have heard that it was said… but I say to you” (Matthew 5.21–48). This is not a rejection of Scripture, but a claim about how Scripture is to be read faithfully. Doctrine, in the deepest sense, is already dynamic here, not because truth is unstable, but because truth is encountered afresh as God’s purposes come into clearer view.

    The early Church understood this instinctively. Faced with the inclusion of Gentiles, the apostles did not cling rigidly to scriptural commands about circumcision. They observed the Spirit’s work among those once excluded, and concluded, “It has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” (Acts 15.28). Scripture was not abandoned, but re-read in the light of lived faith.

    To deny the possibility of doctrinal development, then, is not conservative in any serious theological sense. The Scriptures of Israel themselves witness to a living tradition of interpretation, argument, and moral discernment, shaped by the conviction that God’s will is known most truly where life and dignity are upheld. Jesus stands within this tradition, intensifying its demands rather than abandoning its methods.

    If doctrine could not develop, the Incarnation would not deepen Israel’s story, the Resurrection would not widen the horizon of hope, and Pentecost would not mark an expansion of God’s life among God’s people. Christ would be reduced to a guardian of settled meanings, rather than the one in whom God’s purposes are brought into sharper focus and fuller light. In short, Christianity would not have come into being.

    Processing our Anger

    This brings us back to the present moment. The Church is being asked to believe that a same-sex relationship may be holy enough to be prayed for, but not holy enough to shape worship on its own terms. That a same-sex marriage may be lived faithfully by lay people, but becomes incompatible with holiness the moment a vocation to priesthood is discerned. That baptism incorporates all equally into Christ, yet ministry must still be rationed according to categories of suspicion. This is not theological coherence. It is a hierarchy of dignity.

    Appeals to unity and process cannot disguise this reality. Unity that depends on inequality is not Christian unity; it is institutional calm purchased at the expense of a minority’s flourishing. Acknowledging hurt while leaving intact the structures that cause it is not repentance; it is recognition without conversion.

    It is here that I locate the anger that charges my sadness. Like many colleagues I am now left in a place where I need to assess how best to respond to episcopal decision-making. Anger because I feel as if I been nothing but a faithful, committed and deeply-engaged Anglican for the entirety of my life and this feels like a resounding slap in the face. Like many I am now asking: at which point does active dissent to this decision-making become both morally and theologically essential and what forms should dissent take?

    There is a clear distinction between dissent born of impatience and resistance demanded by conscience. Ecclesial disobedience is not justified simply because progress is slow, a vote has been lost, or a desired outcome deferred. But there does comes a point when continued compliance itself also ceases to be morally neutral. It seems to me that this threshold is now met because of the convergence of four conditions:

    First, the harm must be real, ongoing, and acknowledged. In this case, the bishops themselves have named the hurt experienced by queer Christians. This is not speculative damage, nor the complaint of a disgruntled minority.

    Second, authority must know the harm and nevertheless maintain the policy that causes it. That border has also now been crossed. Delay is no longer inadvertent or provisional; it is conscious and defended.

    Third, the harm must fall disproportionately on a vulnerable group. Here it is borne most acutely by LGBTQIA+ Christians, particularly clergy and ordinands, whose vocations, livelihoods, and integrity are placed under sustained pressure.

    Fourth, appeals to unity or process must have become mechanisms of avoidance rather than means of discernment. That is now clearly the case here. Many of us have experienced this process as one that has led nowhere. When Procedure ceases to serve justice and instead becomes a way of deferring it the process itself loses any moral authority.

    When these four conditions are present, as they are now, obedience itself becomes ethically charged. Continued compliance is no longer a neutral act of loyalty; it is a decision that participates, however reluctantly, in the maintenance of actual structural harm.

    At this point, then, faithfulness may require something more demanding than patience. It may require acting as though the Church we proclaim already exists and accepting the cost of doing so. As Marika Rose, very much echoing Jesus on the Sabbath, writes in Theology for the End of the World: “Christian faithfulness is not about managing the world as it is, but about refusing to give ultimate authority to arrangements that deny life.” When ecclesial structures become arrangements that deny dignity, the call of the Gospel is not quiet endurance but truthful disruption.

    Jesus’s call to embody Justice

    The issue before the Church today is clear: it is whether we are willing to allow mercy, dignity, and life to be the criteria by which our doctrine and practice are shaped or whether we will continue to defend inherited forms even when they wound the very people in whom the fruits of the Spirit are already evident.

    That is not a question about sexuality alone. It is a question about what kind of Church we are becoming and whether we truly believe that Christ is alive enough to lead us somewhere we have not yet fully understood.

    Will we follow Jesus on the Sabbath? Will we with Christ embody God’s justice?

     

     

     

     

  • A Tale of Two Reports

    by Revd Canon Neil Patterson, Vice-Dean of Bristol Cathedral and Chair of Together for the Church of England

    A little while ago I heard for the first time of the 1995 Board for Social Responsibility report Something to Celebrate: Valuing Relationships in Church and Society. The person to whom I was speaking recalled this as being published at about the time when they were ordained, and as a good thing in its reflection on marriage and relationships, and they wondered what had happened to it. Immediately piqued and slightly unsettled to realise that this report existed, I set about investigating. It was easy enough to obtain a second-hand copy, but also very interesting to discover how it was received by General Synod, and to recognise the remarkable parallel, but different outcome, to the 2023 Archbishops’ Commission report Love Matters. 30 years have seen a sea-change in attitude that is much wider than the over-publicised divisions about homosexuality, and I offer this account as a relief to those of us weary of acting as the proxy for all Church debate around relationships and marriage.

    You see, Something to Celebrate has an awful lot in common with Love Matters, although the more recent report curiously never mentions the former. Both explore the current nature of family life at length, drawing on a wide range of research to recognise the varied shape of families in England today. Both reports commend the quality of relationships rather than their specific form, and recognise that children can be raised well and successfully in different sorts of households. Both commend an open welcome by churches, and various aspects of state support for family life (speaking into rather different times for that). Critically for their reception, both reports deliberately shy away from particularly commending (heterosexual) marriage as the basis for family life. Both reports are long and thorough, and I commend reading them in full (Love Matters is here)

    In public reception, though, the reports fared very differently. The publication of Something to Celebrate in June 1995 was greeted by newspaper headlines with variants of ‘Church backs living in sin’ and, by the time it came to be debated at Synod in November, there was clearly a substantial head of opposition, signalled also by the last-minute resignation of Alan Storkey from the Working Party after they declined to accept his more conservative minority report for inclusion. The Bishop of Liverpool therefore introduced the debate with a good degree of caution. I am not sure if this was normal Synod practice for the time, but the debate was structured as a single block of speeches, at the end of which both a motion to Take Note of the report, and a Motion of clauses, with proposed amendments which had been introduced earlier in the debate, were all voted on.

    The tone was set decisively by George Carey as Archbishop, who thanked those who had worked on the report, but made it clear, to widely-reported applause, that he disagreed on the central point that there could be any equivalence between cohabitation and marriage. Other speakers – including, strikingly, Jeffrey John – criticised what they felt to be the weak theology of the report, but some defended it, including Jim Thompson as Bishop of Bath & Wells. The result was, very unusually, a strong division on the Take Note question, which went to a vote by Houses that registered the significant opposition (23-4; 164-60; 122-104) especially in the Laity.

    The four-part motion offered already included a first clause to ‘strongly affirm…that marriage provides the proper context for sexual relationships and the bringing up of children,’ along with commendation of the report and its specific recommendations. This was presumably because there was already recognition of the need to adopt a more conservative position, and motions to remove this clause failed. An amendment by Pete Broadbent to include reference to the 1958 Lambeth Conference resolutions on marriage and family life passed, meaning that the final motion, passed 428-15, was clearly something of a repudiation of the liberal position expressed in Something to Celebrate. With customary lack of haste, the House of Bishops subsequently published in 1999 Marriage: A Teaching Document which represented something of an official crystallisation of that decision.

    By contrast, Love Matters came out in an age when very little that the Church of England says attracts media attention. The chairs of the Commission, Professor Janet Walker and Bishop Paul Butler, plugged it by an article in the Church Times which drew a single hostile letter for the lack of focus on marriage, and a few disappointed conservative blogs flagged up the same point. But, perhaps deliberately, it did not garner much comment alongside the LLF hullabaloo, in spite of the obvious relevance of a report calling for the Church to value families in all their diversity. As Love Matters was not a Synod paper, it did not come for Take Note, but was presented by a motion for debate in February 2024, commending it across the Church, encouraging the Archbishop’s Council to make practical proposals, and Government also to act. Against these, a single amendment affirming the value of “marriage, especially when loving” was offered by Julie Maxwell.

    The debate on the amendment was not extensive, but it was clear that Dr Maxwell represented the viewpoint held by Archbishop Carey and the strong majority of Synod in 1995, that any report about family life needed to uphold the place of marriage. The Bishop of Durham was happy to accept her amendment, and she was supported by Christopher Townsend, but opposed by Jo Winn-Smith, who argued that it was unavoidably discriminatory. The amendment was pushed to a vote by Houses by the Bishop of Manchester, and fell in all three (8-8-1; 61-81-5; 74-84-8). The debate ran overnight, and in the morning a full commendation of the report by Archbishop Justin was followed by further conservative speeches from members including Matt Beer and Prudence Dailey, concerned by the lack of clarity on marriage. The final vote was therefore also taken to Houses, but passed strongly in all three (23-0-0: 97-30-19; 97-38-12).

    As noted above, it took the House of Bishops four years (fast work by their standards?) to produce Marriage: A Teaching Document in response to the Synod debate on Something to Celebrate. My suggestion is that the very different debate and outcome on Love Matters is an invitation to them to revisit their predecessors’ work of a generation ago, and to consider presenting a theology of human relationships which responds more imaginatively to the great diversity of family situations where love is found in England today, and which abandons the cult of an unreal idea of marriage that has dominated for too long.

  • Cries of Suffering: A Response to ‘The Nature of Doctrine and the Living God’

    by Mike Higton, Professor of Theology and Ministry at Durham University

    The Faith and Order Commission’s recent document on ‘The Nature of Doctrine and the Living God’ (GS Misc 1429) is not, in my judgment, a particularly helpful contribution to the endless Living in Love and Faith process. I fear that, however good the intentions behind it, it will

    • perpetuate the strange detachment from the history of theological and ethical debate in the church that seems to characterise the current LLF process;
    • encourage the House of Bishops to misconstrue their role in that process and to misunderstand the key questions that face them;
    • encourage them once again to downplay the centrality that LGBTQ+ voices should have for them in this context; and so
    • prolong the harm that the whole process continues to do to LGBTQ+ people.

    It also happens to be a document in which my own name appears, several times. It was only when a friend emailed me about it last week that I discovered I had been presented as one of a chorus of theologians whose work supposedly confirmed the document’s account of doctrine, and of the role of the bishops in maintaining it – but that I had been made part of that chorus only by way of a selective and, to my eye, somewhat misleading reading of my work.

    Measured against the real harms being done to LGBTQ+ people by the stalled LLF process, this misappropriation of my work is of course an entirely trivial matter, and wouldn’t by itself warrant a lengthy public response. It does, however, present me with a particular angle from which to assess the limitations of the document, and an opportunity to caution others to take it with a pinch of salt.

    What is this document?

    Back in June 2024, the ‘LLF: Moving Forward as One Church’ document (GS 2358) posed some questions on behalf of the House of Bishops to ‘the Theological Adviser(s) to the House of Bishops and the Faith and Order Commission Episcopal Reference Group (FAOC ERG)’ (§43), asking

    how do we, as a church, develop or change our doctrine? Is it possible to hold multiple doctrines simultaneously, in order to respond in the most gracious and pastoral way possible, even when this is messy or incoherent? Is it possible for there to be a range of interpretations of one doctrine? (§41)

    GS Misc 1429 is a response to that request: it says that ‘It is the product of work by the Faith and Order Commission (FAOC) and the Episcopal Reference Group (ERG), with support from the theological advisers to the House of Bishops. It is shared with the House of Bishops in the name of FAOC’ (§3). (I should acknowledge, by the way, that I served on FAOC myself from 2010 to 2022, and was vice-chair from 2016.)

    The conclusion that the document draws about the nature of doctrine, presented as a summary of the work of numerous theologians (including me), is that ‘doctrine is true knowledge about God consonant with Holy Scripture that is communally authorised and communally regulative’ (from the Executive Summary).

    The document does not, however, simply present this argument in the abstract. Rather, it argues for it in order to say something about the role of bishops in decisions about doctrine in the church. It argues that the bishops

    are given the task outlined … by theologians from Hooker to Higton, and so many in between, to discern whether anything put forward as wholesome doctrine is either ‘grounded in the Holy Scriptures’ or … ‘agreeable to said Scriptures’. (§158)

    The proper exercise of this role will, to be sure, involve ‘a dialogical process between the House of Bishops and the General Synod’ (§162) and so be ‘a process of communal discernment that leads to an agreement about what the community authorises as sacred doctrine’ (§163, my emphasis). In other words, although ‘the House of Bishops play a special role in doctrinal formulation owing to their function as teachers of the faith … they hold that role in dialogue with the other houses of the General Synod’ (§164). Nevertheless, within this communal and dialogical process, the bishops have ‘a central role in discerning the faithfulness to Scripture of any doctrinal formulation’ (§160, my emphasis). And the document’s final sentence sets out more fully the nature of this role:

    Careful discernment about which parts and themes of Scripture are most pertinent to the issue being addressed and which reading of those texts best expresses the mind of Christ in the Church is required, so that the Church remains faithful to what it has received … while it proclaims the faith afresh in each generation. (§174)

    FAOC’s reply to the House of Bishops leads up, therefore, to this account of the bishops’ role. Faced with a development that may amount to a change of doctrine (or may not – the document provides little help in deciding what does or does not count as doctrine), the bishops are to test that development against Scripture – and the heart of that testing will involve both a determination of which ‘parts and themes’ of Scripture are most relevant, and a determination (carried out, it seems, by securing a majority in Synod) of which interpretations represent ‘the mind of Christ in the Church’.

    To explain why I think this is an unhelpfully limited account (and why I do not think my own work supports it) I need to explore in more detail the argument of the document, noting along the way some of the things that strike me as strange about it.

    Is your journey really necessary?

    The first odd thing to note about this paper is simply that its authors felt that, in response to the Bishops’ request, the thing they most needed to do was to argue at considerable length that doctrine should be ‘consonant with’, ‘grounded in’ or ‘agreeable to’ Scripture.

    That would make sense, of course, were this point hotly disputed, so that it was worth devoting extended labour to securing it before moving on – but that is not the case, as the document acknowledges. The authors insist that

    It is crucial to reiterate that the present disagreement about the content and use of the [Prayers of Love and Faith] is not over whether or not Holy Scripture plays the determinative role in doctrinal formulation expounded above, but how it does so. (§168, emphases added)

    And this is a point that has been made numerous times before in the debate. Right back in 2020, for instance, the initial Living in Love and Faith book discussed at some length the way in which the church’s disagreements were shaped by differing attitudes to Scripture, but within a shared commitment to Scripture’s authority.

    (The book can be found on the LLF website, for which a free account is needed; once logged in, the whole thing is available for download. I was part of the group that produced this book, and that I was, in particular, part of the group that initially worked on the material that became Part Four, including the chapter on the Bible.)

    At one point (pp. 295–297), Living in Love and Faith sets out seven different ways of thinking about Scripture that are identifiable in the church’s disagreements about sexuality and marriage (and it is worth noting that the differences between them go much deeper than their selection of different ‘parts or themes’ to prioritise). The book argues that two of them (one at each extreme of the spectrum it has painted) are ‘beyond the mainstream of the church’s conversation about the Bible’s authority and purpose’ (p. 298), but that the remaining five (which between them could cover many people on all sides in the debate) share a number of features, including:

    • a commitment to the diligent reading of the Bible as God’s instrument for training in holiness and love, and instructing us for salvation;
    • a determination to attend to the way the words of the Bible run;
    • a desire to have their consciences formed by the dynamics of those words;
    • a conviction that Christ stands at the centre of the Bible; and
    • a belief that the Bible’s deep purpose is to unite us with Christ
    • and to draw us into Christlike love for God and neighbour. (p. 298)

    Now, there is obviously material here for considerable ongoing controversy. People occupying any one of the ‘voices’ that the LLF book lays out might not regard those occupying some of the other voices as having a plausible or acceptable account of what consonance with Scripture involves. But the book argues that

    All of them are determined to be obedient to God’s purposes in giving us the Bible, as they understand those purposes. They can’t simply be divided up into those who are trying to be obedient to God’s voice and those who are not. (p. 299)

    All of them, in other words, are already committed to the idea that the church’s teaching should be ‘consonant with’, ‘grounded in’ or ‘agreeable to’ Scripture. Disagreement has arisen not because they dispute that, but because they understand that consonance, grounding, or agreement in different and incompatible ways. (And for more on this, see my 2020 paper on ‘Disagreement about the Bible’, available in the online ‘LLF library’, which explores further the nature of our disagreements about the ‘how’ of Biblical authority.)

    In the light of all this, however, there is something distinctly odd about the present FAOC document saying so little about how Scripture can or should play a determinative role in the formulation and doctrine, and so much about whether it should play such a role.

    And that brings me to my second point.

    Balance or imbalance?

    The second oddity about the document is the way in which its attempts at balance falter.

    There are clear indications (such as the sentence quoted earlier from §168, about all sides agreeing that ‘Holy Scripture plays the determinative role in doctrinal formulation’) that the document’s analysis is meant to provide even-handed background assistance to the bishops rather than taking sides on the issue at hand. In particular, the description of the nature of doctrine that the document offers is meant to work for all sides.

    There are, however, a few ways in which that attempt at balance slips.

    The first is a tiny point, which only becomes telling in view of the larger examples that follow. In the course of a discussion of Brooke Foss Westcott, the authors say

    Rowan Williams, reflecting on Westcott’s contribution, comments that Westcott, despite frequent labelling of him as ‘liberal’, is fully committed to the Scriptures as the source of faith and doctrine. (§76)

    Notice that little word ‘despite’. The impression a reader might get from that one word is that the authors either endorse or do not see the need to avoid the idea that being ‘liberal’ does not normally go with being ‘committed to the Scriptures as the source of faith and doctrine’. Yet they are quoting from Williams’ chapter on Westcott in Anglican Identities (London: DLT, 2014), in which Williams is both

    pleading for a recognition on all sides that the word ‘liberalism’ is complex and slippery, and that, despite the angry polemic of the right, there is no single ‘liberal agenda’ to be written off as apostasy

    and arguing positively that Westcott’s form of liberalism is entirely bound up with his ‘endlessly patient attention to the detail of Scripture’. It would be fairer to say that Westcott is the kind of liberal he is, in Williams’ account, because of his commitment to Scripture.

    There’s a second point later on, almost as small, but similarly telling in the light of the broader shape of the document. When, in §140, the authors summarise what all the theologians they have covered (including me) are supposed to have said about doctrine, they say, ‘Holy Scripture is the repository of God’s revelation of that truth, and thus the foundation of all doctrine.’ Here, it is that word ‘repository’ that snags. It has not appeared in any of the discussion before that point in the document, but it is used here to nail in place the account of Scripture that has (supposedly) emerged from the whole foregoing discussion. And it is a word that, at least to my ear, echoes ways of talking about Scripture that are much more common amongst conservatives than amongst liberals or progressives (to use those familiar but inadequate labels). I’ll say some more about this below.

    It is, however, a passage very close to the end of the document that gives me most concern on this question of balance. The authors of the FAOC document sketch the position of some (indeed, they say ‘many’) in the debate who believe that Scripture clearly rules out the proposed changes to the doctrine of marriage, and who believe that arguments to the contrary necessarily involve rejecting ‘the perspicuity of Scripture: the conviction that those things a Christian is required to know, believe, and observe are available to all in their reading of Scripture’ (§172).

    The authors give the whole of §§171 and 172 and a significant part of §173 over to expounding the view of these ‘many’. Those who disagree with them (who are, note, not described as ‘many’) are then granted only a sentence, and no part of that sentence sets out what forms their own commitment to the authority of Scripture might take, or what response they might offer to the claim that they reject Scripture’s ‘perspicuity’. The implicit suggestion is not that people in this latter group have their own firm commitment to the authority of Scripture but different understandings of the way in which that authority works; it is, rather, that they don’t have much at all to say on the matter. Once again, the impression is subtly given that the authors of the FAOC document know what to say about conservative commitment to the Bible, but are somewhat nonplussed when it comes to speaking authentically about other sides in the debate.

    It is in that context that we might think again about the apparently unnecessary effort that this document expends on establishing that doctrine should be consonant with Scripture. That effort reinforces the impression that, whatever might be said explicitly to indicate otherwise, the question of whether Scripture is determinative for doctrine really is the point at issue – and that the bishops’ task might be to hold fast against changes championed by people who aren’t really serious about the Bible. That impression may well be inadvertent – I rather suspect that it is – but it seems to me quite palpable.

    I want to reiterate, therefore, what the document itself says, even if it later manages to undermine itself: ‘the present disagreement … is not over whether or not Holy Scripture plays the determinative role in doctrinal formulation’. I say that as someone very firmly on the affirming or progressive side of this debate – someone who wants not just stand-alone services of blessing for same-sex couples, but equal marriage, and much else besides. And I am convinced that this is what the church is required to do by the gospel of Jesus Christ, as that gospel is revealed to us in Scripture. I believe that the refusal to take this path is disobedient to the gospel and disobedient to Scripture. And I believe that those on the conservative side who oppose these moves misread Scripture and misunderstand the nature of its authority.

    I might of course be wrong about any or all of that, but if you want to convince me that I am wrong, you would be foolish to spend any time at all trying to establish that our teaching as a church should be consonant with Scripture, because I already agree with you about that. Much better to save your breath for a conversation – likely to be much richer and much more complex – about how Scripture’s authority is to be understood. And that is a topic on which no story of a neat consensus stretching down the centuries, and no neat delineation of the task before the bishops, is going to work.

    (For a little more on all this, see a blog post I wrote a couple of years back on ‘Disagreement, conscience and harm’.)

    Consensus on the nature of doctrine?

    The bulk of the FAOC document (§§7–146) consists of summaries of the work of a variety of theologians: Aquinas, Hooker, Newman, Westcott and Ramsey, and a selection of more recent figures from Kevin Vanhoozer to me. We are brought in as witnesses who are all, together, presented as giving our support to a particular account of doctrine and its relation to Scripture:

    doctrine is true knowledge about God that is revealed by God. Holy Scripture is the repository of God’s revelation of that truth, and thus the foundation of all doctrine. (§140)

    I for one, however, do not recognise my own work on doctrine in this formulation.

    The authors of the document draw on my book The Life of Christian Doctrine (Bloomsbury, 2020). I explain in the introduction to that book that it was written while I was myself heavily involved in the Living in Love and Faith process (p. 9); I describe myself as ‘someone hoping and working for the Church to change its stance towards people in same-sex relationships, and for it to confirm the unreserved inclusion of trans people in all areas of its life.’ (p. 9), and explain that the book was written, in part, to explore some of the background issues about doctrine that the LLF debates about those matters had thrown up.

    I explain:

    These debates are, for instance, often framed as taking place between ‘traditionalists’ and ‘revisionists’, but I explore in this book an account of the doctrinal tradition in which that distinction doesn’t make sense – or at least an account in which it can’t be of primary importance. More generally, I ask what work doctrinal theology can contribute in a situation in which there is little agreement about what constitutes a good doctrinal argument – little agreement about the kinds of evidence that should be appealed to, about the weight that those appeals should have or about the forms of argument that might be telling. This book is in part an attempt to understand how to argue well in such a context, and what good – if any – such argument might be capable of doing. (p. 10)

    There are several divergences between the account I offer in the book and the ‘consensus’ that I am supposed to support. I can only offer brief indications of those divergences here, leaving out the case I build for my claims by engaging with Scripture, tradition, and reason, and the arguments I offer against alternative accounts – but I hope it will be enough to explain why I can’t endorse the FAOC document’s summary.

    I have already mentioned my discomfort at describing Scripture as the ‘repository’ of revelation. I make the case in my book that doctrine does not simply summarise or articulate the truths that can be found lying ready to hand in Scripture. I therefore do not think that the key hermeneutical differences involved in our present debates are simply disagreements about ‘which parts and themes of Scripture are most pertinent’. The ways in which Christians read – on all sides of the debate – are much more deeply entangled with and shaped by the patterns of their imagination and practice, and by their deep construals of the nature and plot of scripture, and so are much more deeply various, than such formulations suggest.

    I would also find it difficult, without some serious qualification, to describe doctrine as ‘knowledge about God’. I argue in the book the more apophatic claim that

    For Christians to grow in knowledge [of God] is for them to grow together in their imagination of the love of God for them – their grasp of its breadth and length and height and depth. It is for them to grow in knowledge of the God-imaging love to which they are called, discovering the wisdom that will enable them to live that love out in the midst of all the relationships – local, political and cosmic – in which they find themselves. Knowledge of God consists in this deepening knowledge of love, and any supposed knowledge of God that does not take this form is simply fatuous. (p. 104)

    Doctrinal statements and doctrinal theology can, I argue, play an important role in guiding and supporting this knowledge, but that doesn’t mean I can say that doctrine itself is ‘knowledge about God’.

    But perhaps my biggest difficulty with the summary I am supposed to support is its blunt assertion that doctrine is ‘true knowledge of God’ – and not just that but true knowledge ‘revealed by God’. Perhaps the most obvious difference between my work and the FAOC document is that I write with a much stronger sense of the fallibility and failures of the church, and I extend that to my estimate of the church’s doctrinal inheritance. I write that

    Doctrinal theology … is involved in the reproduction of the life of the church. Yet the life of the church is always broken, always distorted, always sinful. Whatever true knowledge of God is embodied in the life that any Christian community lives, it is always mixed with ignorance, with misunderstanding and with the deliberate refusal of knowledge. The life of the church is a series of always failing experiments in the knowledge of God. If doctrinal theology helps to reproduce the life of the church, it will be helping to reproduce all of this failure – all of the exclusions and imbalances of power, all of the forms of harm that mar the church’s response to God’s love. (p. 4)

    The authors of the FAOC document do briefly notice this aspect of my account (see the second paragraph that they quote in §136), but it quickly vanishes from sight. A large part of my book is, however, devoted to exploring how the Spirit works to convict the church of its sin (including those sins woven into its doctrinal theology), and to teach the church to know more of the truth. It is an account of the necessity of ongoing penitent change in the church’s doctrinal teaching.

    And this account of sin, conviction and repentance shapes what I say about the role that bishops might play in processes of doctrinal change – giving my account a tenor rather different (it seems to me) from that of the FAOC document.

    That document does, admittedly (in §138), quote substantial parts of a paragraph from The Life of Christian Doctrine that, in full, reads as follows:

    As with all other forms of doctrinal theology, however, this episcopal work of encouraging, amplifying and resourcing [a summary of the description I had just set out of the teaching role of bishops] cannot be undertaken alone – and that is especially true in relation to the work of challenging erroneous teaching. As with all other forms of doctrinal theology, the work of bishops needs to be embedded within processes of ongoing listening and re-construal, in which there is a real possibility of their being led to see differently by the challenge of others. Bishops are enabled to play their role as teachers by being members of communities of conversation and exploration that can encourage them, resource them and challenge them – and especially by being members of communities that can read scripture with them, and inspire them to read it differently. In particular, their ability to ‘uphold sound and wholesome doctrine’ will be directly proportional to their ability to hear the call of God in cries, encounters and improvisations – because those are the means that the Spirit characteristically uses to draw the church deeper in to the sources of its faith. (p. 238)

    And it is true that my point in this paragraph was in part, as the FAOC document suggests, to acknowledge that bishops are indeed granted a role in our polity as gatekeepers of doctrinal change – but it was also to point to the conditions under which that role can properly be exercised. And what I say here, if read in the context of my wider argument, does not simply amount to saying that they should be in dialogue with the wider church as represented by the other houses of General Synod, seeking some kind of majority or consensus, and it does not let me rest content with the descriptions that the FAOC document gives of the bishops’ proper recourse to Scripture.

    The line in the paragraph quoted above about ‘cries, encounters and improvisations’ refers back to, and summarises, a lengthier discussion earlier in the book. In this context I want to draw particular attention to what I say about ‘cries’:

    God’s call reaches this church through cries…. Most sharply, the call reaches the church through cries of suffering – cries from those injured, marginalized, erased, ignored or forced into passivity by the existing patterns of this church’s speech and action. These may be the cries of those who are already visibly part of the life of this church; they may be the cries of those on or beyond what are currently thought of as its edges – but wherever they come from, these cries break in on the church’s present life, posing questions and demanding re-evaluation. Can they do justice to the lives from which these cries emerge? (p. 223)

    Crucially, attending to such cries – and learning to walk with those whose cries they are – can and should transform how we read Scripture. I had earlier said that

    The reading practices to which the church is called, and which doctrinal theologians are to accompany, are practices of reading while walking. That is, they are practices of re-reading in the light of the new situations, the new encounters and the new relationships into which the Spirit leads scripture’s readers. Above all, they are practices of re-reading in the company of those who suffer and are oppressed, those who are marginalized and excluded, those who are harmed by the church’s present settlements. They are practices in which those in positions of hermeneutical power and privilege sit at the feet of those who read from the margins, to listen, to learn, to accompany and in time to converse. The Spirit can open the eyes and ears of readers more fully to scripture, and enable them to hear, see and dwell in the word of God more richly, by means of these situations, encounters, relationships and conversations. If doctrinal theology is to play a role here, it will be by keeping the church to this kind of reading and walking, by holding open space for the conversations that emerge, and by exploring the challenges and suggestions that are generated by those conversations. (p. 169, emphasis added)

    I am not trying to intervene here in some zero-sum game between attention to Scripture and attention to experience. I argue at length in the book that this does not make any sense at all as a way of describing our hermeneutical options. My argument is, rather, that the heart of Scripture is opened for us only as together we journey with Christ in the power of the Spirit, and in no other way – and that we should turn away from any account of Scripture’s meaning, of its ‘parts and themes’, or of the proper approaches to its reading, that can be offered in abstraction from that journeying.

    In other words: I don’t want it supposed that I give my support to a picture of the bishops’ role in guarding the doctrinal teaching of the church that has them testing what they hear from the wider church against a Bible that they already know how to read quite well enough, having learnt to read it outside the company of those whose lives, whose relationships, and whose futures they are discussing. I don’t think that any such picture can do justice to the nature of the journey on which we are called together into the knowledge of God; I don’t think it does justice to the nature of the Scriptures that we have been given by God to accompany us on that journey; and I don’t think it does justice to the nature of doctrine.

    Is it possible to hold multiple doctrines simultaneously?

    I say all this not because I expect to change anybody’s mind – though I hope, of course, that I might. I offer in its favour various arguments, exegeses of scripture, and readings of a range of ancient and modern theologians, but I know that all of those arguments, exegeses and readings are contested. I therefore don’t necessarily expect the authors of the FAOC document to agree with me, but I do want to establish that the supposed consensus marshalled in that document is not quite as neat as it is made out to be. And whilst I accept that I’ve only spoken about my own case, I’m fairly sure that closer attention to several of the other figures covered would indicate that they, too, don’t sing in perfect unison on these matters.

    In particular, the voices gathered in the document don’t all say the same things about the authority of Scripture, and neither do Anglicans more generally. I’m not sure how to distinguish between ‘dogma’, ‘doctrine’ and ‘teaching’ (a point on which the document declines to pronounce – §51), but I suppose you could say, without too much danger of misunderstanding, that there are indeed different doctrines of Scripture in circulation amongst us, and that this has long been the case. Some might resemble the views outlined at the end of the FAOC document, with their focus on the perspicuity of Scripture; others might resemble mine; others will be different again – but whatever their precise character, there is no doubt that the church is and has long been marked by deep and intractable difference in this area.

    But that brings me to the final oddity that I find in this document. The bishops asked whether it is possible for the church to hold multiple doctrines simultaneously – and yet that is a question that this document doesn’t even attempt to answer. The authors could have got somewhat further, however, had they dug back, not into general accounts of the nature of doctrine like mine or those of the other theologians they have mustered, but into earlier formal discussions of this very question by Church of England bodies, including discussions carried out by the commissions to which FAOC is a successor. I find it odd that this report is so detached from that earlier history of Anglican discussion.

    The authors could, for instance, have looked back to the 1938 report of the Archbishops’ Commission on Doctrine, Doctrine in the Church of England – a report commissioned precisely ‘because the tensions between different schools of thought in the Church of England were imperilling its unity and impairing its effectiveness’ (William Temple, ‘Chairman’s Introduction’, p. 4), and so long in the making that even the LLF process looks short by comparison. They could have looked at the succession of documents that the re-formed Doctrine Commission produced from the 1970s to the 1990s – including Christian Believing: The Nature of the Christian Faith and its Expression in Holy Scripture and Creeds (1976), Believing in the Church: The Corporate Nature of Faith (1981), We Believe in God (1987) and many more – all of which deal with questions of doctrine, and explore the nature and limits of difference in the church.

    Perhaps most pertinently, however, they could have looked back to the 1968 report on Subscription and Assent to the 39 Articles, produced by the then newly re-established Archbishops’ Commission on Christian Doctrine – and in that report they would have found the question about the permissibility of deep differences in Anglican approaches to Scripture already posed and discussed. The report describes those deep differences unflinchingly, but argues that this variety can indeed be held within the life of the church. And this wasn’t one of those reports that vanished from view the moment it was published; it initiated the revision of the Declaration of Assent made by all deacons, priests and bishops, which ensured that the promises they all made would leave room open for this variety to persist in the church. It is not the least strange aspect of the current debate that we seem to have lost touch so completely with even quite recent episodes in our history.

    It is not that I think there are easy answers to find in this history, or any insight that will suddenly cut through all the tangles that we face. Greater attentiveness might, however, help protect us from the temptation to deceptive neatness – a neatness that irons out difference, flattens out history, and somehow always manages to squeeze out the voices of those already marginalised within the life of our church as it is. I fear that FAOC, in its desire to provide assistance to the bishops, has slipped into purveying precisely that kind of neatness.

  • A Response to “The Exercise of Discipline and Clergy Exemplarity in the Church of England: The Case of Same-Sex Civil Marriages: A Report of the Faith and Order Commission” (GS Misc 1431)

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

    This was the third report which briefed the House of Bishops before they made their decisions in October about Living in Love and Faith (LLF). It purports to explore theological issues relating to three possible ways by which clergy in a marriage to a person of the same sex might be licensed in the Church of England. It also purports to explore what it means that clergy are called to an exemplary life, and what implications there might be for licensing married people who currently would need a civil partnership in order to be licensed.

    The Report claims to do all this whilst ‘not endeavour[ing] to resolve those differences, either finding for one side or making clear a previously unknown path to consensus’ (§214). It does this by almost entirely sidelining the views and voices of LGBTQIA+ people, presenting a viewpoint significantly informed by North American Evangelicalism as if it were a balanced presentation of Anglican variety. Of the 24 modern theologians engaged with in this report (Gregory Nazianzen and George Herbert are the other two theologians included):

    • 100% are white
    • 96% are white men
    • 83% are straight or in opposite sex marriages
    • 46% are North American
    • 12% are ex-gay / same-sex-attracted identifying evangelicals
    • Only one person, at 4% of the whole, is an affirming gay Anglican with a partner.

    The one affirming gay Anglican contribution cited is from Jeffrey John, in a book which was published in 1993 when I was two years old.

    This report does not meaningfully engage with the theology produced by or read by LGBTQIA+ Anglicans, or people who hold an inclusive theology. Simply directing us to the LLF Resources does not constitute theological engagement (§100). This report is not balanced or representative. It should not have represented itself as being such.

    However, it is lengthy and technical, and gives a very good sense of being comprehensive, even whilst it utterly fails to present or even really take into account the voices of those most affected by its subject matter. This is a shamefully inadequate Report whose omissions (wilful or otherwise) have potential to mislead its readers.

    In order to make this meandering and confusing report more intelligible, my response to it comes under six headings:

    1. Make doctrine a moving target
    2. “Communal regulation”, discipline and toxic theologies of power
    3. Are the clergy a special case?
    4. Leading us to think we are talking about sex whenever marriage is mentioned
    5. Despite divorce, we really do still hold to the traditional doctrine of marriage
    6. Disempower the Bishops

    This is a report which overwhelms by the sheer variety of arguments it includes. Here, I cannot deal with them all, particularly the biblical section and its lack of meaningful engagement with LGBTQIA+ readings of important texts.

     

    1 – Make doctrine a moving target

    The FAOC Report on Doctrine defined doctrine as: ‘true knowledge about God that is communally authorised by warrant in the Holy Scriptures and is, therefore, communally regulative’ (GS Misc 1429, §146). However, in this report, that simple definition varies. Early on, ‘authorised by warrant in the Holy scriptures’ is watered down and communal regulation does not appear: ‘Doctrine… is true knowledge about the living God, grounded in or agreeable to the Holy Scriptures, that the Church of England determines by a process of communal authorisation’ (§8).

    Later, elements of both are mixed as doctrine is ‘true knowledge about the living God that is communally authorised and communally regulative’ (§84 & §212). But the scriptures seem to have vanished. On one level this might be a symptom of speedy or sloppy drafting. However, on another, it could be understood as an attempt to give an impression of a clear definition of what doctrine is and how it operates in these arguments, without being willing to be pinned down to any actually clear definition. This sort of slipperiness and unclarity of meaning runs throughout the report.

     

     2 – “Communal regulation”, discipline and toxic theologies of power

    A theological high point comes in §§12-17, when the heresy of Donatism is dealt with and it is concluded that individuals and the wider church can have confidence in the sacramental ministry of a minister, even if they err in doctrine. However, as the report proceeds to outline a theology of discipline, it is unnervingly one-way, authoritarian and entirely lacking in awareness of the operative theologies of power which have led to both the abuse crisis in the worldwide Church and the failure of the Church of England itself to respond meaningfully to abuse.

    The report links discipline with discipleship, and it is established with reference to The Homilies that ‘it is imperative to think of discipline in both its proactive, formative sense and also its reformative and punitive senses in order to understand it fully’ (§17). This is good, but the formative is not really considered. It is the reformative and punitive senses of discipline with which this report is interested, i.e. what sledge-hammers the bishops can hit us with, whether it be for our benefit or to teach us a lesson.

    A survey then follows of reformative discipline as described in the liturgies of ordination of deacons, priests and bishops in Common Worship and the BCP. It entirely lacks any meaningful awareness of the fact that the power to discipline can be incredibly dangerous, despite the liturgy enjoining the bishop to use their authority: ‘not to destruction, but to salvation; not to hurt, but to help’ (§24). The vocation of a bishop ‘to minister discipline, but with compassion’ leads to a reminder that even a compassionate bishop may also need to punish: ‘it may be that such a response is the compassionate one’ (§27). But there is no awareness in the report that hurt and destruction, i.e. abuse, may result from such episcopal behaviour.

    The rather odd concept of “communal regulation”, which I explored (and we were all no doubt confused by) in the liturgical context with reference to the report on Doctrine, reappears. Apparently, the vow made by bishops to ‘accept the discipline of this Church, exercising authority with justice, courtesy and love’ (§29) is when a bishop puts themselves under “communal regulation”. What is entirely overlooked is the significance of justice, courtesy and love in the exercise of that ministry by any individual bishop, or the College or House of Bishops as a whole.

    The same blinkered focus is apparent in the report’s reading of the latter part of the consecration prayer:

    Further on the Archbishop prays, ‘Give him humility, that he may use his authority to heal, not to hurt; to build up, not to destroy’, a reference to 2 Cor 10:8 and 13:10. The emphasis, like in the rephrased declaration, is on the corrective and reformative aspects of discipline.

    It takes deliberate one-track thinking to fail to spot the critique of punitive authoritarian power in this prayer. Punitive authority is the focus of this report. That seems to be what “communal regulation” actually means.

    This disturbing theology of power in the report comes out strongly when clergy families are considered. Canon C26’s injunction to the minister to order their life and their family’s lives in a manner ‘that provides a wholesome example and pattern to the community’ (§36) is presented uncritically. Though the duty to order our family members’ lives is ameliorated since the phrase ‘as much as in him lies’ is interpreted to remind us of ‘the limitations of any individual to determine the behaviour of other family members in all times and places’ (§37). But it is crystal clear that “communal regulation” should be exercised in the home as well, mostly I imagine over wives and children, but over clergy husbands and extended family as well. This is not a theology of power which a responsible theologian simply states uncritically.

    There is a hint that this dangerous and toxic theology of power might be applicable in wider discipleship (“heavy discipling” is one euphemism for spiritual abuse and grooming, after all). The report notes, again uncritically, the linguistic or etymological links between spiritual discipline, church discipline and discipleship: ‘The complementary relationship between spiritual discipline and church discipline would indicate the broad range between the proactive, formative and the condemnatory, punitive ideas that inhere in the single word discipline’ (§43). Tellingly, throughout this passage, the role of the ‘authority figure’ as the exerciser of discipline in its various forms is emphasised.

    Finally, the image of a doctor prescribing medicine from Gregory Nazianzen’s second Oration is used to support this broader deployment of discipline (§46). This is particularly unfortunate and ironic. Gregory wrote his second Oration shortly after his ordination, having fled his post because he did not think he was able to bear the weight of the pastoral duty imposed upon him. He writes in a manner which emphasises the importance and weightiness of pastoral care, almost to an absurd extent. This is an apologia for his belief that he should not be entrusted with such authority to discipline. It is not a suggestion that every bishop and priest should start prescribing punitive medicine.

    This isn’t a funny theological blooper. Rather, it reveals just how far the compilers of the report were not aware of the issues of power underlying the texts with which they engage. Bishops might well read Selina Stone’s A Heavy Yoke: Theology, Power and Abuse in the Church (London: SCM Press, 2025) before they decide that this is the sort of power in relation to God’s people which they want to define themselves as having. If they do, they need to deploy it in all areas of their episcopal ministry and equally on all people in the church, not just LGBTQIA+ people. Gregory, given the choice, ran away from it.

     

    3 – Are the Clergy a Special Case?

    In order to answer this question, the report presents a bewildering array of arguments, many of which are specious or based in unreality. I shall try here to present this torrent of uncompleted ideas in a way which is moderately digestible.

    First, the report argues that ‘The broadest possible jurisdiction one can conceive for church discipline includes baptised Christians on an electoral roll in the Church of England’ (§48). You might think we were about to get a sense of how “communal regulation” applies in the community of the baptised. But this is passed over, moving on to a discussion of Lay Ministers (§49). It seems simply to be accepted that discipline is not something which touches the baptised who are not licensed. This is unsatisfactory and inconsistent with the theology of discipline presented thus far.

    This gap in the argument means that the next argument, that clergy are held to a ‘higher moral bar’ than the laity (§50), seems to arise solely by virtue of ordination. No argument is offered to justify the statement that due to the ‘exceptional nature of holy orders’ the church ‘expects a public transparency about many aspects of life, including areas in which lay Christians are afforded the ease of privacy’ (§50). This is an unreasoned distinction from the privacy afforded to the laity which is presented as self-evident. And should then the bishop, as even more exceptional than the priest, be required for example to publish their bank statements on the diocesan website? There is no theological substance here.

    A strange argument is presented about the call for clergy ‘to witness by example against the norms of the culture in which they sojourn’ (§53). It is not stated directly, but we are used to this sort of homophobic gaslighting, which argues that we are not to be in ‘normative alignment with the shifting sands of cultural values’ (§52), those shifting values being a fictional secular society which is a nirvana of inclusion for LGBTQIA+ people. That secular inclusive society against which the church is called to witness is fiction and a foil. Society is deeply homophobic, even as it is deeply misogynistic and racist still. Homophobia in the Church is in lockstep with the homophobic abuse and discrimination we experience in the secular world every day. It’s not countercultural, it isn’t cool, and it isn’t a witness.

    The distinctive witness of clergy to procure the good conduct of children and their spouses is considered again in the context of this cultural witness. This is passed off masterfully with the sentence: ‘Modern assumptions about the alignment of private, domestic space with public order differ significantly from the assumptions in [the pastoral epistles]’ (§59). It is odd that the report should accept women’s lib and contemporary appreciation of children’s dignity and autonomy so easily after all the handwringing about being counter-cultural. If applied to LGBTQIA+ people, it is simply not clear why the same counter-cultural discipline would not be applicable to women, children and those in clergy households, and no arguments are made.

    The report advances an argument that the vocation to ordained ministry is a ‘whole-life dedication’ which makes it ‘difficult, if not impossible, to separate the moral from the exemplary imperative in a life conceived as a form of witness’ (§64). This is an extraordinary argument for an Anglican to advance, especially as it is essentially the root of the argument for clerical celibacy in the Roman Catholic Church. If ordination is ‘whole-life dedication’ to God, then heterosexual marriage and dedication to another person also should be inappropriate for the clergy.

    Then the report argues that we must take particular account of the perceptions of outsiders.

    The pastoral epistles… even specify that the exemplar ‘must be well thought of by outsiders’ (1 Timothy 3:7). It behoves us to consider the same in the 21st century just as it was commended in the 1st century. In practice, it is inescapable.

    This is blunt application. And it is hard to see why this argument for not ordaining or licensing those in same-sex marriages would not also hold for women, immigrants, disabled people and people who are racialised. Their ordination, as they will tell you, also prompts push-back and elicits ableist, racist and misogynistic abuse and even scandal. And yet again there is no considered argument in the report about why this problem of perception should only apply to LGBTQIA+ people.

    There then is yet another strange argument: that allowing clergy to marry their same-sex partner would ‘alter the context in which Christian exemplary witness is offered and point to the fragmentation within wider society of a consensus on the nature of marriage and sexual intimacy.’ This is simply delusional. There is no fragmentation in secular society on the issue of sexual intimacy. Rather, there is general agreement in secular society that the place of sexual intimacy is no longer anything to do with marriage. Indeed, for even the majority of conservatives in the Church (at the level of operative theology rather than theory) the question is really about what sexual intimacies you enjoy before marriage and which ones you save for your spouse. Again, cultural witness is set up as a straw man, in which resistance to LGBTQIA+ people is supposedly the keystone holding up the Church’s moral witness.

     

    4 – Leading us to think we are talking about sex whenever marriage is mentioned

    In §68 the report acknowledges that clergy households where a couple are in a civil partnership can be exemplary, but it is not clear why those in a same-sex marriage would not be. And in §70 the report acknowledges that things are hard for Christian couples in civil partnerships, but there is no sense that the writers of the report are aware of how the Church’s approach following the 2005 pastoral statement also impacts the broader Christian family gathered around the couple.

    At the heart of the problem here is that the report refuses to say plainly that a same-sex marriage has no more presumption of sexual activity than a civil partnership. The Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act 2013 inserts s.12(1-2) of the Matrimonial Causes Act 1973, which disapplies the requirement that same-sex couples consummate their union in order to have a valid marriage. In law, there is no expectation that a gay couple who are married will be having sex, any more than there is for a civil partnership.

    The failure to acknowledge this amidst all the handwringing is one of the largest and most uncomfortable omissions of this discussion of “clergy exemplarity”. The readers of the report are left with the false impression that marriages mean gay sex while civil partnerships mean gay celibacy. This is a false impression. If clergy can be exemplary as civil partners, living a sexually sacrificial life for the Church, there is no reason why they could not also do the same as a married couple. There is no difference in terms of sexual activity between civil partnership and same-sex marriage.

    Indeed, the report stresses that ‘none of what follows intends to draw into question the current provision’ for clergy in civil partnerships. ‘It is nonetheless notable that if a pastoral accommodation is agreed [to enable the same clergy to get married] this may mean that provision [of episcopal guidance] for same-sex civil marriages and same-sex civil partnerships are different from one another’ (§93). However, given that neither involve sex, it is not at all obvious why this should be the case. Yet again, a spectre of something completely new and different is created without specifying any real difference, theological or otherwise.

     

    5 – Despite divorce, we really do still hold to the traditional doctrine of marriage

    The report twists logic to the point of breaking in order to advance two arguments: (i) that the bending of the doctrine of marriage which took place in order to enable the marriage of divorcees with a spouse still living is not analogous to any bending of doctrine required to enable same-sex couples in a civil marriage to be licensed; and (ii) that in any case, despite permitting the marriage of divorcees, we do actually still hold to the traditional doctrine of marriage, that it is between a man and a woman for life. Fair warning: your head will hurt trying to follow this meandering thread.

    We are told that same-sex marriage is in no way the same kind of thing as the marriage of divorcees. ‘While there are clearly similarities between the two, an argument that they are identical does not seem sustainable. Therefore, the logic used to support adding Canon C 4.5 [enabling the licensing of clergy in a second marriage] cannot be a precedent’ (§96). But no reason is given for this judgment that the two are not identical. Indeed, both marriages are a statement of the traditional doctrine, except for one thing: either the gender of the parties, or the “one man and one woman for life” bit.

    Perhaps an analogy could be constructed instead. We are told that ‘Theological reflection should always begin with scripture’ (§99), a statement which will come as a surprise to anyone versed in theological reflection as practiced in Church of England theological colleges. After this we are told that:

    It is true that Holy Scripture does not include explicit precedent for a faithful, stable, permanent same-sex relationship. Similarly, one might observe that ‘Scripture’s teaching on homosexuality is sparse and ambiguous and it is highly questionable to what extent we can derive from it any application to the ethical issue of gay relationships as it faces us today. (§99)

    This is not an argument routinely advanced by LGBTQIA+ people today, who find precedent for our relationships and identities throughout scripture. But the report entirely ignores our love for and valuing of scripture, referencing a group of mostly American straight Evangelicals talking about LGBTQIA+ people (and also referencing Jeffrey John). Unlike divorce, which does exist in scripture, LGBTQIA+ people’s lives and relationships are portrayed in the report as absent from scripture, so without precedent, so without theological existence.

    The report then charts the progress, from the Lichfield Report (1978) to the early 2000s, of the idea that a marriage can end such that a person can marry someone else. This includes: (i) the rejection of sacramental understandings of marriage and (ii) doctrinal clarifications (or developments) that marriage’s being for life was not an essential part of a marriage’s nature, only an ideal (§§111-118).

    We supposedly have arrived at a relatively straightforward conclusion: there cannot be ‘a complete analogy’ (§118) with the marriage of divorcees. However, the argument continues, now in the context of divorce and in what sense clerics’ lives are meant to be exemplary.

    The report notes (referring to St Paul and St Augustine) that marriage was itself a pastoral accommodation in the first place to the ideal of celibacy. It suggests that, when considering making pastoral provision for same-sex couples in marriages, ‘one might contend that such an approach has parallels – though inexact ones’ (§120) with the Pauline and Augustinian accommodation of marriage. However, again, it is not clear why these parallels would not be exact. A thing is not the ideal for sexual ethics, but we make accommodation for it. Why the distinction?

    The section §§122-128 duplicates the arguments of §§52-60, sometimes verbatim, about culture and exemplarity. Again, this feels like an attempt to create an illusion of a coherent argument by repeating material rather than referencing it. On the other hand, it could simply be a drafting oversight.

    The argument seems to be that the pastoral epistles are contextual and culturally referential. They represent an attempt to work out what conduct should be required of the clergy in their own day, in order to be an example of godly life (§124). And so, scripture requires us to consider what holy life looks like today.

    Insofar as the Church of England aims to support and assist those who enter holy orders with the long work of forming and fashion their lives for a visible, grounded holiness, it can only deal in the on-the-ground realities of living as an ordained person in the contemporary culture in which they sojourn. This approach follows the scriptural lead: Paul’s example in the Holy Scriptures indicates it is impossible to think about the exemplary call without considering the context in which Christian witness occurs. (§126)

    A rare, positive conclusion is reached: that it might be possible to think about exemplarity in a way which refers to shifts in understandings of what being exemplary might mean, and in a way which is also biblical.

    Therefore, the argument that clergy in a same-sex marriage may be exemplary invokes cultural context – not in any way omitting theological rigour in preference for an appeal to contemporary culture, but as a move necessitated by Holy Scripture. (§127)

    However, the argument quickly moves off again in another direction, this time truly mind-boggling. The authors of the report wish to underline that the ‘call to celibacy’ may lead ‘same-sex attracted persons’ to opt for a ‘covenanted friendship[] or celibate civil partnership’. By analogy, we are reminded that ‘similar options have always been available to anyone who is divorced with a living spouse’ (§133).  Some choose to remain celibate after a divorce ‘since their remarriage would be a stumbling block to those holding to indissolubility for marriage’ (§133). An argument is being made that because some divorced people decide to remain celibate, that is an option open to LGBTQIA+ people too.

    The report then asks why many opt instead for further marriage. ‘There are surely a number of reasons – but it is hard to escape the conclusion that one reason will be because the church teaches sexual intimacy belongs within marriage and they wish to respect that’ (§134). This is frankly bizarre. On one level it is hard to believe that anyone has ever seriously made this argument. People who are divorced remarry because they want to remarry. The serial monogamist is not making a prophetic declaration that the place for sexual intimacy (with each of their sexual partners) is within marriage. This is utterly bizarre. However, this is advanced as an example of an argument in which an analogy might be possible for extending marriage to same-sex couples who are having sex, in order to affirm the church’s teaching that the place for sex is within marriage.

    However, this argument is so preposterous that it is hard to believe that it would ever be made by anyone who actually wanted to convince the reader that same sex marriage might be a good thing. The analogy with divorce makes it absurd. If the report was seriously offering a positive argument for marriage equality, it would simply argue that the place for sex should be within lifelong marriage. And that would be an argument that many LGBTQIA+ people do actually make.

    That positive argument is finally made, almost in passing, along with an equally easily missed reference to the possibility that same-sex couples who are married might not necessarily actually be having sex:

    While it is true that a same-sex marriage – which one cannot be certain is sexually active, but for those who want to affirm same-sex relationships offers a faithful, stable, and permanent context for sexual intimacy – does present challenges to the church’s teaching on sexual intimacy, which restricts it to heterosexual marriage, there is a case that a same-sex marriage offers a model that is exemplary in our society. (§138)

    But you could have been forgiven for missing those significant points as they flew past.

     

    6 – Disempower the Bishops

    In my response to GS Misc 1430 on marriage, I noted the high emotional tone of some of the language, which seemed aimed at making the episcopal readers less inclined to exercise their episcopal prerogative. We have seen how this report might well have the same effect, but by mystifying the reader in a barrage of confusingly arrayed arguments.

    However, the sections considering the possibility that the bishops might permit clergy, who currently need to be in civil partnerships in order to receive a license, to simply get married, and that they might just decide not discipline them, do sow fear. They do this by foretelling legal uncertainty and legal challenge in a manner that suggests the bishops would be taking a course of action which could be described as courageous.

    The ideal, surely, for all of us, is that we might come to one mind, with sufficient majorities to pass legislation which pleases everyone. However, if this is not possible, the report acknowledges that it is possible ‘for the diocesan bishops to exercise their discretion in responding to a situation that raises such questions about doctrine and practice being in tension’ (§82). This is a very odd way to frame episcopal discretion which arises from the tortured logic of ‘communally regulative understanding of doctrine’ (§84) which is rehearsed again. Far more sensible would have been a simple statement of the long-established episcopal discretion which exists for a bishop to administer their diocese as they see fit. A survey of the legal and historical as well as ecclesiological grounding for this would have been particularly interesting. But I suspect it would have shattered the illusion of a church held together by its ‘communally regulative understanding of doctrine’.

    The report notes that the House of Bishops could decide to relax discipline across the Church of England. ‘This would constitute a form of communal regulation – but only of one constituent house of the General Synod’ (§190). The argument is framed to evaluate every option for episcopal action through the lens of the ‘communally regulative understanding of doctrine’. Since that concept presumes that only maximum agreement can be acceptably communally regulative, this essentially paralyses the bishop from acting in their diocese.

    It is a masterful, if strangled, conceptual power grab. So the House of Bishops as a whole cannot act because they are only one house of Synod (§190). The bishop in their diocese cannot act because this ‘would also put the approach in tension with the idea that discipline operates on a communally [sic] regulative manner’ (§192).

    Indeed, with the concept of ‘communally regulative understanding of doctrine’, the bishop is rendered powerless, and the bishops as a House are disempowered utterly. They are responsible for discipline. But they cannot exercise their prerogative when it comes to discipline. Which begs the question, what is the point of a bishop? It is a line of reasoning which only works if you remain committed to the ‘communally regulative understanding of doctrine’ and wilfully ignore 2000 years of ecclesiological theology on the role of the bishop in their diocese.

    But, lest the bishops assert their prerogative, we are told that individual bishops inhabiting their role ‘carries the greatest risk for discipline to depart from doctrine, potentially resulting in legal challenges and increased confusion over such matters’ (§197). This argument is repeated in §213 as the last paragraph of the report, just to make sure the bishops were left with a dose of panic. Peter Collier KC has taken the teeth out of this legal threat pretty convincingly. Like many of the arguments advanced in this report, it is not real.

    The bishops should not be afraid to lead, to minister and to administer. Conservative bishops have done so, interpreting doctrine more tightly in some areas and more loosely in others as fits their own beliefs about what it means to be a shepherd of Christ’s flock in their diocese. Inclusive bishops should be similarly empowered. And the House of Bishops as a whole should not let its freedom to act be utterly dissolved into communal regulation. The bishops are not merely an upper rubber-stamping chamber for the secretariat and the Synod as a whole. For this reason, above all the others, this report must not become enshrined in Church of England thinking. What it risks is a functional Presbyterianism, a synodality which is not Anglican, and a House of Bishops who are ordained and consecrated to be shepherds of Christ’s flock, but who find themselves powerless to do anything meaningful in fulfilment of that calling.