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Tag: Pastoral Principles

  • Living in Love and Faith: Where is the Power?

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

    Back at the start of the Living in Love and Faith process (LLF), one of the more useful resources to be produced was the ‘Pastoral Principles’ – a set of six concepts intended to enable better conversations across difference. One of the Pastoral Principles was “pay attention to power”. And yet, as we take in the latest update on LLF from the House of Bishops, it seems evident that little if any attention has really been paid to power in the course of the LLF process.

    Power is a slippery thing. It hides in plain sight, and works in ways which can be hard to grasp. And yet, if we do actually pay attention to power, and name how power is being used in in a particular situation, it can be deeply revealing.

    Power is an important theological concept. We speak of God as omnipotent – all powerful. We read Paul’s description of “Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.” We might hear someone describe “the Holy Spirit moving powerfully” in a particular church or event. But what kind of power is this? Very often we don’t stop to examine it too closely. And unexamined power is always dangerous.

    I am not, here, attempting to offer a fully worked-out theology of power (for that, I recommend Anna Mercedes’ excellent book Power For). But I do want to consider the role of power which has led to this latest set of decisions from the House of Bishops.

    Sometimes it is helpful to separate out the church’s “espoused theology” – what we say we believe – from its “operant theology” – what the things we do and how we do them reveal about what we believe. Where those two theologies are at odds, it can be very revealing.

    The church’s espoused theology of power is one of equality and justice, but also of self-abnegation, servanthood, “God’s power made perfect in human weakness”. The story we tell about how power exists in the church is one of the foot-washing, self-emptying power of love which we see in Christ.

    But very often this is not the operant theology of power in the church, it is not how we really live and relate to each other. Certainly the operant theology of power in the LLF process is something very different, and if we really do pay attention to power, to how it actually works, rather than how it is spoken about, we start to see some of the theological problems underlying this latest set-back in the slow and painful process.

    Firstly, the espoused theology of power contained within the LLF process is one of equality: that we all approach the process from equal positions, with equal power, with equal concerns. This is demonstrably not so. And a failure to acknowledge an imbalance of power always works in favour of those with whom the power already lies. The operant theology of LLF is one in which LGBTQ+ members of the church (and to a lesser extent our allies) simultaneously have less institutional power, and more at stake – our identities, livelihoods, vocations, relationships, in addition to the theological, ecclesial and missional concerns which all parties bring to the LLF process. If this inequality goes unacknowledged, as it largely has, then everything that is built on that espoused theology of equal power will be at best precarious, and at worst false and manipulative.

    Secondly, the espoused theology of power within the church is one in which divine power, and therefore power within the church, functions very differently to worldly power. And yet, the attention paid to money and the threat of its withdrawal by conservative churches during the LLF process suggests a rather different operant theology.

    Thirdly, there is the question of whose voice is heard, and how. The espoused theology of LLF is that all voices are heard equally. And yet… The attention given to threats of schism, threats of diminishing numbers and income, by those promoting a conservative stance on sexuality is vastly greater than that given to the many LGBTQ+ folks and allies who have quietly walked away, or who have bravely spoken about the harm done to them and to those they love by conservative and sometimes openly homophobic church teaching, whose voices remain largely unheard, silenced or ignored. The operant theology of the LLF process is that some voices are worth more than others.

    Finally, there is the question of conscience. The latest update from the House of Bishops is keen to emphasise that the next stage of the process will “respect the conscience” of those opposed to using the Prayers of Love and Faith. Good – I don’t think anyone in favour of greater progress towards LGBTQ+ equality wants people to be forced or coerced into using prayers against their conscience. But the question of conscience, throughout the LLF process, only ever seems to cut one way.

    There are thousands of clergy currently forced to act against their conscience, myself among them. We act against our conscience every time we explain that we can’t marry a same-sex couple who wish to celebrate their love and commitment in the presence of God. We act against our conscience when we constrain ourselves to the meagre offerings allowed by PLF, instead of celebrating and blessing the fullness of what we see God doing in the lives and loves of faithful LGBTQ+ people. The cost of overriding our conscience is a form of moral injury, and a very real harm not only to individuals but to the church as a whole. But our conscience is of no concern to the House of Bishops, it seems.

    Whatever the espoused theology of the church, when the operant theology evident in the actions (or inactions) of its leadership reveals that some voices are worth more than others, some consciences more worth protecting than others, it is hard to escape the conclusion that some people are worth more than others: more fully human, more fully made in God’s image, more beloved.

    That, of course, is not true. And nor is it the church’s espoused theology. But it is too often, including in the House of Bishops’ latest (in)action on LLF, the church’s operant theology. And that operant theology damages the body of Christ because, whatever kind or well-intentioned words may be said, what is felt and known and experienced as the lived reality is a deeply damaging theology of power, which tramples over the lives and loves and the very humanity of LGBTQ+ folks (yet again) in the futile search for a false unity which will allow those who already hold power to hold onto it, without needing to pay any attention at all.

     

  • Playing the Victim

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

    There is often a very British reticence to ‘victimhood’. Whether it’s the stereotype of the stiff upper lip, or the willingness to ‘keep calm and carry on’, we are not known as a nation of victims. ‘Stop whingeing and get on with it’, as my school teachers used to say – and in the main, we do. ‘Playing the victim’ gets us less sympathy, and is far more likely to make us enemies.

    It has been interesting, then, to see the pernicious and yet all-pervasive narrative of victimhood seeping its way through some parts of the Church of England in recent months. In the wake of the bishops of the church putting forward a proposal that removes the impediment to us blessing a same-sex couple in the same way that we might bless a car or a plant pot, many of those for whom this would apparently be the ‘one step too far’ moral outrage have turned up the volume on their campaign to tell bishops about just how hurt they are by the whole thing.

    It remains surprising, of course, that there are people who cannot bear the idea of compromise and who appear to believe that agreeing to disagree on whether we can bless other people’s relationships will destroy the very foundations of their Christian faith. It’s important to distinguish, I think, between those who hold to this view quite genuinely, however bizarre many of us might find it, and those who are weaponizing it in a last gasp as they see their iron grip on power falter.  The former group are those whose worries and fears need to be listened to – and insofar as they are genuine, addressed. The latter – through their campaign – are doing their best, inadvertently, to ensure that this will not be the case.

    Not a day seems to go by without yet another asinine and misleading ‘question’ or statement being released on the Church of England Evangelical Council’s Twitter feed. To save the delicate stomachs of some readers who would prefer not to trawl the whole thing, here are some highlights. We have been told (several times) that the bishops are ‘denying’ the faith ‘due to cultural pressure’; we have had some very bizarre selective scriptural quotes from Revelation; we have had the usual claptrap about the fact that something legal advice specifically states is not a change of doctrine is, in fact, a change of doctrine; we’ve heard nonsense about how the changes coming are ‘theologically compromised and pastorally confusing’; and that old chestnut, the ‘lifestyle’ choice, is back with a vengeance. None of this is new – much of it is dishonest.

    Yet whilst these repeated tropes are tiresome and often – quite frankly – silly, the worst to come out of the campaign is the barefaced attempt to present those who are attempting to roll back Synod’s decision as ‘victims’. Let’s be absolutely clear about this suggestion – it is utterly ridiculous, and not only ridiculous, but insulting. For years there has been a conservative stranglehold on the policies of the Church of England, with bishops apparently too scared to say what they really think until they leave office, and a tacit acceptance that unity is quite reasonably built on the backs of queer people. At last, that wicked, immoral consensus is crumbling. It is staggering how shameless those who have fought against any liberation for queer people are now being.

    We are told that the introduction of voluntary, opt-in prayers of blessing are an existential threat to those who choose not to offer them. We are told that it is unacceptable that those who say LGBTQI people should be celibate will now have to admit to it. We are told that any compromise position, any opportunity to offer anything whatsoever to queer people, is an act of victimisation towards conservative evangelicals. We are told that it is imperative that queer clergy must not be sexually intimate and must be punished if they are, and that this is the red line. Blithe nonsense about cancel culture abounds; misrepresentation of facts, and of the reality of power structures, is front and centre. It is scandalous. As a recent Tweet from the CEEC campaign apparently unironically stated, ‘we are for respecting people, even when we disagree on theological conclusions’ – perhaps it’s time to put that into action, folks.

    The thing is, the Church of England and its hierarchy should be willing and able to challenge this ratcheting up of confected terror, rather than imbibe it and be scared by it. The Church of England has produced something rather valuable in the Pastoral Principles, yet there seems to be precious little recognition of how these relate to this recent campaign. There is little point having these principles written down if they are not going to be put into practice – and it is about time some leadership was shown and people held to account. Yet as ever it is queer people who are told to calm down and have warmer hearts.

    The apology to LGBTQI people from the House of Bishops is not worth the paper it’s written on if nobody is willing to stand up for us. Since the Synod vote, little to no comment has been made on how those of us who are LGBT face discrimination on a constant basis from wider society, let alone from the church. LGBT people face genuine and real oppression and are openly victimised, targeted and discriminated against. Trans people are murdered across the world, year by year. Gay young people in parts of sub-Saharan Africa are taken out of their homes and killed. I do not understand why there is such an oppressive and overwhelming silence on this issue. If we’re looking for real victims in all of this, a good place to start – for example – would be the queer folk of Uganda. Yet a month’s wait for anything – at all – to come out of Lambeth (and there is still nothing out of the Anglican Communion Office or GAFCON) in response to the Archbishop of Uganda’s blasphemous support for criminalisation of LGBTQI people is hardly the ‘speaking into silence’ that the Pastoral Principles demand. It’s simply not good enough, and if this is the trajectory, then the feigned apology is nothing more than an insult.

    Those who are promoting the CEEC campaign and its messages need to take a long, hard look at themselves. A false narrative of victimhood – a genuine ‘playing the victim’ – is not only a tactic that flies directly in the face of the Pastoral Principles, but one that flies directly in the face of our belonging to Jesus Christ. And the leaders of our church need to step up and speak into what is going on here, instead of running scared. Doing so behind closed doors is not enough – we are being publicly attacked day after day, and there is nothing whatsoever being said to support us.

    Queer people have put up with ‘just getting on with it’ for too long – and we’re being taken advantage of. Just because we don’t constantly play the victim doesn’t mean we’re not hurting. Many – most – of us are. We’re living in a church that tolerates and doesn’t love us, and now we’re living in a church that is willing to tacitly accept that – once again – we’re the problem. We still do not matter – we are still an issue.

    It’s time – in fact, it’s well beyond time – for our leaders to practise what they preach. We’ve been hung out to dry quite long enough.

  • A Peek under the Episcopal Carpet – Past Cases Review 2 and its Blind Spots

    by the Revd. Dr. Brenda Wallace, a former member of General Synod, an active member of Broken Rites, and part of the organising group of the Campaign for Equal Marriage

    Last week, without much fanfare, the Church of England published the Past Cases Review 2. This summarises the thorough investigation into past cases of abuse which have been “swept under the carpet” by church authorities across the country. Time and time again, the need to protect the ‘integrity’ of the organisation has been prioritised over the need to protect the individual victims of abuse.

    The report notes that: ‘The review of the 75,253 files within the scope of PCR2 was conducted by independent reviewers across the dioceses and other church bodies between July 2019 and April 2022. […]  The independent reviewers identified 383 new safeguarding cases relating to children and vulnerable adults’ (p. 11).

    The continued scandal of the sexual abuse of children and vulnerable adults in the Church of England has – rightly – received much attention in recent years, as the Church has been forced by IICSA to wash its dirty linen in public and admit to its persistent failures to protect its most vulnerable members. Despite much handwringing by Bishops and Archbishops, and in General Synod, there is still a long way to go, both to address and redress the past failings, and to create a safer church.

    I don’t want to minimise this appalling record of cover-up of the abuse of children and young people within the church. But I want to draw out two areas of abuse which continue to receive little or no acknowledgement in discussions about safeguarding.

    The first is around the whole issue of human sexuality. Sexual orientation is a protected characteristic under equality legislation. Yet the Church has continued to allow discrimination against LGBTIQA+ members. In over 400 pages, the Living in Love and Faith book only mentions safeguarding twice, briefly, and in both cases, in relation to children. There is no comment on the constant abuse, marginalisation, and exclusion that many gay people receive in their churches and in social media. Pressure by some individuals and organisations for churches to be exempt from proposed government legislation to ban conversion therapy highlights the safeguarding issues and the danger that young people are in within certain church traditions, where attempts to ‘cure’ them of their supposedly aberrant sexuality continue to be practised.

    When the LLF discussions were taking place last year, the Campaign for Equal Marriage ran a series of workshops where those sympathetic to our aims could have a conversation within a safe space about the LLF Report. We heard numerous stories of individuals who had not felt that discussions within their Diocese or local church were a safe space for them to be, and that the Pastoral Principles which were supposed to provide protection were frequently ignored. While taking part in the national Safeguarding training required regularly for all licensed clergy, I raised the question of safeguarding for LGBTIQA+ people within church contexts. Those delivering the course looked puzzled that I even raised the question, and quickly replied that it was not part of the training. Of course, all young people and vulnerable adults need to be protected within the church, but an awareness of the particular vulnerability of young LGBTIQA+ people in our churches appears not to feature.

    The PCR2 report briefly mentions bullying (p. 107), quoting from a case of a priest who was persistently bullied by a member of the congregation and was forced out of post, which the church authorities dealt with inadequately. But there is no mention of numerous recent cases where gay, partnered priests were forced by Bishops to relinquish their licences and their posts because of their desire to marry their partners, the alternative being to live in enforced celibacy. The lack of pastoral care for clergy in many such cases, and the attempts of church authorities to suppress complaints, is well documented. This is yet another area where safeguarding is inadequate, and the institution is protected in preference to the individual.

    The second area which I would like to highlight is the issue of domestic abuse within clergy marriages. This does indeed get a mention in the PCR2 report – three whole pages (pp. 102 ff.)! It wryly notes that ‘The number of domestic abuse cases seems low for the size of the organisation and where allegations are made there is an inconsistent approach to investigating and identifying risks. There were cases where no final outcome was recorded, which could suggest that risks were left unmanaged, and no safeguarding was put in place’ (p. 103).

    In this context, I am writing as a member of Broken Rites, a charity providing mutual support when clergy marriages fall apart, founded in 1983 at the initiative of Frank Field MP. We are an ecumenical organisation with members from other UK Church denominations; it’s obvious that this is not just an Anglican issue. Our broken and bruised members, victims of failed clergy marriages, tell time and time again of the way in which the circumstances of their breakdown have been swept under the carpet by church authorities. These spouses, the majority of whom are women, have often suffered decades of physical or emotional abuse, coercive control, or narcissistic behaviour. Others have seen their marriage ripped apart by adulterous relationships by their priest partner. While marriage breakdown is always painful, it is particularly so for clergy spouses who have to leave their home in the vicarage, their own role within the church and its supportive network, and fight for financial support for themselves and any children. Some have to find paid employment for the first time, after many years of faithfully supporting their clergy partner’s parish work. Whatever their situation, they face being forced out of most of their familiar settings to make a fresh start, while recovering from the trauma of an abusive or broken relationship.

    The Church does now make some practical support and financial provision for separated clergy spouses, but the support is patchy and poorly signposted, and inconsistent across the country. In many cases, the offending priest gets to stay in post and in the clergy house, whilst the spouse is the one to move out. Even more patchy is the pastoral and emotional support for the departing spouse. Once again, the Church protects its own and has prioritised the safeguarding of the Church’s reputation rather than the individual. This is not the space to tell my own story, simply to note that I talk from personal experience.

    The stories we hear through Broken Rites are only a few – the stories of women and men who have had the courage to break away, despite the emotional and financial cost. We have no idea how many more continue to suffer because of the pressure to hold on to their marriage vows no matter what, and because of the lack of awareness of the problems by church authorities. Allegations of abuse by their partners have been repeatedly ignored or downplayed.

    PCR2 has taken a peek under the carpet and found a massive pile of debris. But, if you will excuse the mixed metaphor, there’s still an awful lot of muck left in the Augean stable under the episcopal floor-covering.

  • Leading, Following, or Forgetting? The Church and the World

    by Felicity Cooke, a member of General Synod and a trustee of WATCH. She writes here in a personal capacity.

    The Church approaches issues of equality, diversity and inclusion within the cultural and social context of secular society, where law and regulation prescribe a framework for human behaviour, however faulty that behaviour may be. For the Church, there is the additional dimension of theology and scriptural teaching, and principles which may seem clear in a societal context become more complex once differing theological beliefs come into play. There was a time when churches argued that slavery was justified on the basis of scriptural interpretation. In time this was seen to be mistaken and Christians came to believe that slavery was wrong. Slavery still exists but the Church no longer teaches that it is justified; instead, it takes part in the fight to end it. This also applies to racial injustice and race discrimination, in part legacies of slavery: the Church has challenged itself to right these wrongs, on theological grounds.

    So far, so consistent: movements in secular society have been mirrored in the Church, and sometimes even – as Mark Chapman showed – led by the Church. But in the 21st century we are seeing scripture called upon to maintain what secular society has come to recognise as discrimination and injustice, in relation both to the position and treatment of women, and the status and treatment of LGBTQ+ people in the Church. In both cases, the accommodation given to those who do not accept the ordained ministry of women is defended on theological grounds, as is different treatment of LGBT+ people, with some groups within the Church making a virtue of rejecting secular progress towards inclusion, instead presenting themselves proudly as ‘counter-cultural’.

    Currently, both racial justice and sex and sexuality injustice are being supported from the Bible. Of course there are no easy answers to this paradox, and meanwhile the different views easily become entrenched, and immoveable. The outcomes for both women and LGBTQ+ people are painful and detrimental.

    The Church has different ways of attempting to mitigate these differences. The 2014 Declaration on the Ministry of Bishops and Priests (GS 1076) introduced the ‘Five Guiding Principles’. These were devised prayerfully by a group holding a range of views on the ordained ministry of women and were intended both to confirm that the ‘Church of England is fully and unequivocally committed to all orders of ministry being open equally to all, without reference to gender, and holds that those whom it has duly ordained and appointed to office are the true and lawful holders of the office which they occupy and thus deserve due respect and canonical obedience’ (Guiding Principle 1): and,  at the same time, to affirm those who could not accept the ordained ministry of women. Guiding Principle 5 went on to make ‘pastoral and sacramental provision’ for this minority. The aim? To maintain ‘the highest possible degree of communion’ and to contribute to ‘mutual flourishing’ in the Church.

    In similar vein, the LLF exercise was accompanied by the formation of the ‘Pastoral Principles’, which set out ‘how the Church of England can live well together within the parameters of its current position on marriage and the different deeply held convictions that individuals and churches hold on these matters.’ Church members are encouraged to take a course on how to put the principles into practice, and do better at understanding other points of view, and belief.

    We have Guiding Principles, and Pastoral Principles, and in case these do not work as we hope they will (and they do not), then we are constantly enjoined at General Synod to find better ways to ‘disagree well’. Most recently, General Synod was introduced to the ‘Difference’ course, ‘a course that explores what it means to follow Jesus in a complex and divided world, seeing transformation through everyday encounters.’ The intention is for participants to find ways, as we hear God’s call, to cross divides, navigate disagreement, practise forgiveness and risk hope.

    But I have a question. Do these principles, guidance and courses help those who suffer real pain (and worse) as a consequence of the beliefs and behaviour of those who disagree about their lives and how they live them, about their calling and their vocation? If we look at those original Five Guiding Principles then the answer to that must be, for the most part, no. Women in both lay and ordained ministry continue to experience exclusions, discrimination and sexist behaviour. The LLF process, for which the Pastoral Principles were written, is yet to be completed, but there is evidence that for some positions have calcified, while others refuse even to engage with the resources.

    Are we to be left simply with the idea that we can ‘disagree well’ when people continue to suffer the consequences of disagreement? Is this the best we can do? If we embrace beliefs and behaviour in the Church which are rightly condemned in the secular world, what does that mean for anyone whose face (or body) does not fit with the white, male, cis-het, non-disabled norm? If the Church is prepared to accommodate what in the secular world is clear discrimination, and if being ‘counter-cultural’ actually creates a huge gulf between those who come to church, and those who do not, and between those who in the church who are fully inclusive and those who actively exclude others, then we have only ourselves to blame for falling numbers and incredulity expressed at what it apparently means to be a Christian.

    Using biblical teaching both to justify the fight against racism and the right to discriminate between women and men, LGBT+ and straight makes no sense either to the ordinary person in the pew or to the ordinary person in the street. The Church is out of step, and all the principles and exhortations to disagree well will not bring us to be the fully inclusive, loving, compassionate church which Christ longs for us to be.