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Tag: Prayers of Love and Faith

  • 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?

  • All About LLF: the February Synod Debate

    by Felicity Cooke, a lay member of General Synod for Ely Diocese, a former member of the Leicester Working Groups, and a trustee of  Together for the Church of England

    There seems to be some confusion still about what happened at General Synod on 12th February 2026, three long years after the beginning of the journey of Living in Love and Faith (LLF) through General Synod. So here’s an attempt to explain it, from someone who was in the room. A reminder that what’s under debate are two moves towards a fuller welcome for lesbian and gay couples: first, accepting that clergy, ordinands and those exploring their call to ministry can be in same sex civil marriages (they can already be in same sex civil partnerships) and, second, permitting the use of the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF) in standalone services. These Prayers were commended by the Bishops back in 2023 but can currently only be used in existing services.

    The motion

    At Synod, we were presented with a Motion from the Archbishop of York which affirmed what had been clear for some months: ‘that the LLF Programme and all work initiated by the February 2023 LLF Motion and subsequent LLF Motions will conclude by July 2026’. The Motion in full read as follows:

    That this Synod:

    (a) recognise and lament the distress and pain many have suffered during the LLF process, especially LGBTQI+ people;

    (b) affirm that the LLF Programme and all work initiated by the February 2023 LLF Motion and subsequent LLF Motions will conclude by July 2026;

    (c) thank the LLF Working Groups for their committed and costly work, which will now draw to a close with the conclusion of this synodical process;

    (d) commend the House of Bishops in establishing the Relationships, Sexuality and Gender Working Group and Relationships, Sexuality and Gender Pastoral Consultative Group for continuing work.

    After nearly five hours of debate on the Motion and on eight amendments, the unamended Motion was passed by Synod by a vote in all three Houses:

    For Against Abstained
    House of Bishops  34 0  2
    House of Clergy 109 62 10
    House of Laity 107 70  9

    That’s interesting because it showed a very clear majority in favour in all three Houses.

    But in favour of what? The end of LLF, or a new beginning?

    To answer that, we first need a diversion into Synodical procedures, as set out in our Standing Orders.

    Doing the numbers

    Before we all voted, a member moved a ‘procedural motion’ asking for a ‘counted vote of the whole Synod’. That was rapidly followed by another member calling for a ‘vote by Houses’. If 25 members stand to support this, it happens. And they did. A ‘vote by Houses’ has often featured in LLF debates and it always trumps a ‘counted vote of the whole Synod’. It means that each House votes separately, so it gives a clearer picture of who thinks what – and as names are registered with votes, that goes to the level of individual voters.

    But this particular procedural motion also makes it harder to pass anything because the motion or amendment must pass in all three Houses, meaning that the main reason to ask for a vote by Houses is if you want it to fail.

    Here’s an intriguing question: what would the result have been if the initial call, for a counted vote of the whole Synod, had succeeded? This is one of the interesting points about that whole long afternoon in Church House. When we put together the results of the three Houses, they show an overall vote in favour of 65.6%, with 34.4% opposed. Is it an irony that this is a bigger margin than in any of the previous successful LLF votes in February 2023, November 2023 and July 2024? Context is all important in thinking about that question.

    Autumn 2025: stalling

    Let’s go back to last October, when the House of Bishops issued a statement which was a precursor of the motion brought to Synod last month. This statement articulated the view of the House that LLF had essentially ground to a halt. Working groups had been set up to advise on process and procedure for the PLF to be used in ‘standalone’ (or ‘bespoke’) services. Meeting in Leicester, these groups had argued for such freedom to use the PLF to be accompanied by ‘protections’ for those who did not wish to do so. But these protections, characterised as ‘Delegated Episcopal Ministry’ (DEM), could not be accepted by the House of Bishops. DEM would mean that a diocesan bishop could ‘delegate’ some of their role to other, more conservative, bishops. But all (or almost all) of the bishops, whether inclusive or conservative, found DEM unacceptable. For some, such provisions were not enough: for others they went too far.

    In addition, the bishops decided that ‘in principle … both bespoke service and clergy same-sex marriage would need formal synodical and legislative processes to be completed before they could be permitted.’ So the PLF can still only be used in a regular service, not a special one.

    The immediate response amongst inclusive or progressive groups and individuals was of deep disappointment. It seemed that years of work both inside and outside Synod were to be abandoned. Over the years since LLF started in 2017, there have only been two small pieces of movement: the permission to use PLF in existing services and jettisoning Issues in Human Sexuality. That’s not much for countless hours spent in debates, discussions and working groups, not to mention an estimated total expenditure on the LLF process of £1.6 million.

    Throughout autumn 2025, arguments were pitched from all sides, some wanting the bishops to embrace a more positive agenda, others to call a halt to everything which Synod had voted for in 2023.

    The responses from those holding inclusive views included powerful sermons from the Deans of Southwark and Canterbury, as well as an Open Letter led by Inclusive Church (IC). In the press release accompanying that Open Letter, IC said:

    The Living in Love and Faith process has shown that the majority of the Church of England, clergy and laity alike, now long for a Church where LGBTQ+ people are fully welcomed and celebrated. Many want to see their grandchildren able to be married in church, their trans family members affirmed, and their Church reflect the generous heart of God.

    The letter was signed by nearly 7,000 lay and clergy people, from 3001 churches across the Church of England.

    Things became particularly intense in November 2025, when the legal advice offered to the House of Bishops was published as the paper GS Misc 1432. Many times in the last few years there had been calls from conservatives for the full legal advice and we were assured that this paper offered the same advice that the bishops had been given before. Not everyone agreed with the paper’s legal interpretation; see for example here.

    Yet another meeting of the House of Bishops took place in December, considering this legal advice and some theological papers. In mid-December, in another powerfully expressed sermon in Canterbury Cathedral, the Dean of Bristol asked the bishops where, among them, were  ‘those who will stand up against legalism, who will expedite processes for standalone services and lifting the ban on clergy entering same sex marriages?’

    2026: the waiting game

    But the bishops did not rise to her challenge. Their January Statement repeated and endorsed the position expressed in October.

    And so we entered yet another waiting game; what would be the actual motion to come to Synod in February? When it arrived in the Synod documents there was deep disappointment, even hostility to the thrust of the motion. The ‘apology’ in clause (a) seemed lacklustre and insincere (as one speaker in Synod said in the debate on the unsuccessful amendment to change this, ‘sorry means you won’t do it again’). As for clause (b), the idea that the LLF Programme could conclude by July 2026 was a slap in the face not only for all the members of the Leicester working groups who had sent a strong message to the bishops to act on their proposals, but to those in Synod who had voted in favour of the motions on LLF passed in February and November 2023 and July 2024. There was deep suspicion about the new working groups which the House of Bishops intended to set up – clause (d) – not only about the terms of reference detailed in GS 2426, but in its proposed membership and how members were to be appointed. There was a widespread feeling that the voices of the normally silent majority had been ignored.

    February: voting for further movement

    Yet, as I explained at the start of this blog post, in February the House of Bishops Motion was passed by a larger majority across the whole of Synod than any other previous LLF motion.

    How did this come about? Perhaps even those most dedicated of Synod watchers would be defeated by a detailed account of the eight amendments which were debated, and fell, during those five hours of debate. In brief, these were an amendment to make the apology more meaningful and sincere, an amendment to acknowledge theological diversity amongst LGBTQI+ (sic) people, one calling on the bishops to apologise for not taking legal advice and thus falsely raising hopes, one to remove the clause bringing the LLF process to a halt, another to allow a conscience clause on the use of the PLF in standalone services, another to remove the clause setting up the new working groups, one to add a means by which the Leicester working groups would be asked to provide a foundation for the work of the new working groups, and finally an amendment asking that the new working groups be organised so as to ensure that a majority of the members would be in favour of standalone services and full inclusion of clergy in same sex civil marriages, with regular reports on progress to Synod. Some of these amendments sought to strengthen the Motion, some sought either to weaken it or even render it meaningless.

    As would eventually happen with the main motion, there were calls for votes by Houses. Each of these amendments fell in the House of Bishops and (for the most part) in the other Houses too. So, given the dissatisfaction with the main motion and the disappointment, if not despair, at the events of the previous six months, what led to its approval?

    It was an odd motion because, as you can see in clause (d), Synod was only ‘commending’ something which the bishops were going to do anyway. They did not need synodical approval. But if Synod rejected the motion, the setting up of more working groups could mean the work was delayed or even abandoned. It would give scope for bishops who were uncomfortable with the proposed scheme of work to argue that it wasn’t needed.

    The initial response of Together for the Church of England, and its supporters, had been to vote against the motion, unless it proved possible to amend it. Another option would be to abstain, to demonstrate the despair with which it was being received. But it became clear that those who were opposed to the LLF process, who were unwilling even to give room for the PLF, were prepared to vote it down. Those of different views knew that putting in amendments could at least give a chance to air their views. Knowing the balance of opinion in Synod (unrepresentative as it is of opinion across the wider Church) the pragmatic decision was to vote in favour, unless the motion was amended so as to make it toothless. That way, at least some work continues.

    Over the course of the debate, the most powerful speeches were those from clergy in faithful and committed same sex relationships, some going back many decades, who spoke of their reactions to the various statements by the bishops; statements which seemed to have lost sight of the real people whose lives go on being affected by this.

    And now?

    Because their motion has passed, the House of Bishops now has a significant majority decision from Synod to support the continuation of the LLF legacy. As I’ve shown, this majority is the largest in any LLF vote across the years from 2023 to now. LLF may be over, but there is a new beginning. The challenge to the bishops is therefore to bring about meaningful change through the ‘Relationships, Sexuality and Gender Working Group’ and ‘Relationships, Sexuality and Gender Pastoral Consultative Group’. Let us hope that the memberships of the two groups are appropriately filled with those whose goal is to not to obstruct the change which so many ordinary people in the Church wish to see with all their hearts.

  • Leaving in Love and Faith?

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

    I am writing this piece in Church House, the morning after a five-hour debate on Living in Love and Faith (LLF). As with many lengthy debates, the interpretation of what was agreed and what happens next can be unclear. The public understanding and the reporting by the press has not been helped by the Church House Comms team not having any prepared statement ready in the aftermath of the debate explaining the context and nuance of what happened; one has now been issued. As a result of this void, some of the headlines, such as the BBC’s “Church of England abandons proposals for same-sex blessing ceremonies”, were eye-catchingly negative but also quite wrong. As someone who was in the chamber for the debate, and involved in much of the discussions behind the scenes leading up to it, I offer this to help understand what really happened.

    The House of Bishops had brought forward a motion that did four things. First, there was an apology for all the distress and pain caused during the LLF process, especially to LGBTQIA+ people. Next was a statement that LLF would draw to a close, although I will unpack what that means later. Third was thanks to all those involved in the work of the LLF process. Finally, and most substantially, Synod was asked to commend the House of Bishops’ proposal for what would happen next.

    The Archbishop of York, in presenting the motion, stated how this was a way forward around which the House of Bishops could cohere. That would be important as many of the areas of further work, particularly around clergy equal marriage and standalone services of blessing using the Prayers of Love and Faith, would need the House of Bishops to get behind them if they were to progress.

    For the first clause, the apology, there were several amendments seeking either to strengthen this or to change its focus. The move to strengthen the apology came from Charlie Baczyk-Bell, who in a powerful and emotional speech expressed a direct call from LGBTQIA+ people underlining the failings so far of LLF and the need to acknowledge the ongoing damage to LGBTQIA+ people. While none of the amendments regarding the apology passed, it was encouraging that there were bishops who were moved to vote in favour of strengthening the apology. I know from speaking with some bishops in Church House that the apology offered in the motion is genuine.

    The second clause was a change of methodology, but not of direction. It effectively said that the grand project known as LLF, begun in 2017, would draw to a close. It was not saying that the underlying issues had gone away, nor that no further work would be done, something that only became clear in the final clause. Living in Love and Faith had sought to address LGBTQIA+ inclusion, the measures that could be passed to advance it and the provision necessary for those of a traditional outlook as a result. This has made the process rather heavy and cumbersome, with forward movement in one area stalling because of work in others not being ready. In trying to deliver a whole package of measures together, LLF has buckled under its own weight. This clause in the motion is not, as the press have inaccurately claimed, the end of work towards inclusion. Rather it acknowledges that LLF has run its course, that some measures have passed and others will be taken forward through different, more focussed routes. This has the advantage that some of the most controversial ideas on provision for those opposed to inclusive change are not baked into proposals. The Bishop of Chelmsford spoke in the debate to make clear that it was these divisive measures, such as Delegated Episcopal Ministry, which had made the full package approach of LLF unacceptable to the Bishops, and that future plans would not be dependent on such major structural changes that would undermine our ecclesiology.

    We should not forget that, through LLF, since 2023 we have had commended liturgy of blessing those in a committed same-sex relationship for use in regular services. Some would argue that this liturgy is also available for clergy to use in other contexts under canon law. Following a Private Member’s Motion to Synod, there has also been the withdrawal of the controversial Issues in Human Sexuality document as pastoral guidelines to which clergy have to sign up, something on which the Together on General Synod group led the way in July 2025.

    The third clause thanking members of working groups for their work was uncontroversial, the fourth – detailing the way ahead – being the main point of substance. Before this debate, the point we had reached was there are two outstanding items of business. The first is equal clergy marriage: those in a same-sex marriage currently cannot receive a licence to minister or go into the vocations, training and ordination process. The second concerns questions around the full use of the Prayers of Love and Faith, in particular whether they could be used in “standalone” services.

    The proposal from the Bishops was to continue that work under a newly-formed group. When papers for Synod first came out, many pushed back at this, seeing it as yet another working group, meaning yet more delay. However, there is a subtle difference this time around, as the group will be more focussed on specific issues and tasked with bringing proposals back to the House of Bishops on how to get things done. The papers before Synod had already outlined some options, such as making amendments to the Canons to allows clergy to marry freely. Those of us advocating for inclusive change recognise that the Bishops want to do this with substantial due process, giving any changes the most secure legislative underpinning as possible. If this can be achieved, then the accompanying inclusive change will stand on secure foundations.

    The fact is that, if we want to definitively allow clergy equal marriage, we will require change to the canons. That in turn requires a working group that can evaluate the options, draw up papers and recommend how it could be done. There will then need to be a body, in this case the House of Bishops, to sponsor that change to the canons and present it to General Synod. And then General Synod will need to go through the legal process to ensure the legislation is sound, well drafted and enacts the policy that Synod is wanting to see. That may sound lengthy and laborious, and it will be, but it is also how deep, enduring change is best constructed and embedded into our common life.

    After five hours of debate, we reached a point where all amendments brought were rejected (some by greater margins than others) and we voted on the original motion as brought by the House of Bishops.

    Inclusive members within the Chamber had a choice. We could vote for the motion, and for the journey towards greater inclusion to continue. We could abstain, explaining separately the rationale behind this choice. Or we could vote against and completely undermine any pathway towards deliverable outcomes. That could mean the cessation not only of the LLF process but of any future work on LGBTQIA+ inclusion, for years to come.

    We came into Synod with many on the inclusive side being very uncomfortable in voting for the motion. Over the week, the choice became clearer that we either supported the Bishops in continuing work, or we came alongside conservative voices who wanted it to stop altogether. The key factor in the inclusive group swinging heavily behind work continuing was testimony from LGBTQIA+ members, particularly clergy, that while this had been deeply painful for them they wanted us to keep going. Some courageous and heartfelt speeches from Claire Robson, Rachel Mann, Matt Edwards and others were profoundly moving; do watch them on the Church House YouTube record if you can. I continue to be in awe of the patience and faithfulness of LGBTQIA+ Christians who have every reason to turn their back on the Church, yet persist in solidarity with each other and keep following Christ despite the hostility and pain they are often shown. Speaking as a straight ally, they are an inspiration to me.

    The final motion was passed with 65.6% in favour, indicating a strong mandate for the work to continue. There have been four major LLF debates so far (February 23, November 23, July 24 and this one), and this margin of support is the largest we have seen yet. What needs to happen now is for the House of Bishops, who supported the motion with none voting against, to own this and drive it forward. We have learnt much through LLF, but we need to take that learning and translate it into action. Then it will be for the General Synod to take recommendations and pass them, so that more barriers to full inclusion can be dismantled.

    It will not however be this set of General Synod members who will make those decisions, because there is a General Synod election in late summer this year. Those who long for inclusive change, and hear the call from our faithful LGBTQIA+ Synod members to keep going, need to organise for those elections. Together for the Church of England and Inclusive Church are in partnership on this; do follow us on social media, subscribe to our newsletters and check our websites for more ways to do this. Together has diocesan networks across the church who are organising for the elections. More information on what will be happening and how you can make a difference will be released over coming weeks and months. If we can extend the inclusive membership in Synod, which is already substantial, then the work guaranteed by this most recent vote on LLF will be able to deliver so much more. A more inclusive, diverse and compassionate church is possible, and the way to achieve it is clear. The question is whether the broad inclusive majority in the church can step up and seize the moment.

  • Learning and Listening: Being Inclusive

    by Kat Campion-Spall, Rector of the Bristol Harbourside Churches, and a member of General Synod

    Arriving 3 years ago in a newly formed parish, a question from a parishioner awaited me: would we consider joining Inclusive Church?

    The two parishes had just merged. One church is community-focussed, with evangelical roots, although not wanting to use that label any more, with a vocation to hospitality and welcome. The other is a city centre church with a more creative, radical edge, historically the first point of contact for seafarers arriving from all over the world. I hadn’t expected the question of Inclusive Church but, as someone personally committed to working for inclusion, I welcomed it.

    It quickly became clear that this question came with history. A pastoral situation at one of the churches over a decade previously had caused pain and division, a number of people had left the church, attempts at reconciliation seem to have been ineffective, and the bishop’s instruction to stop talking about it and move on had left unhealed wounds beneath the surface. This wouldn’t be an easy conversation. 

    Although Inclusive Church has a wide remit, the point of tension was LGBTQI+ inclusion. The PCC and congregations cover a broad spectrum. Some who actively campaign for LGBTQI+ inclusion, many quietly affirming but cautious about division, some who hold to the church’s traditional teachings on marriage. Some were particularly concerned not to leave anyone feeling excluded because of their theological position.  

    Mention of Inclusive Church seemed like a flashpoint for many and even the history of the conversation caused disagreement – some remembered a discussion and vote on IC at one church, while others felt it had never been properly explored: historic PCC minutes suggest that a conversation about whether the PCC wanted to explore joining IC concluded that there wasn’t sufficient will to pursue it. It’s likely that that discussion had been a difficult one and many had little appetite to repeat it.

    So, over the course of 2023, we went back to basics. There wasn’t a shared narrative across the two churches, so we started with each church’s history of LGBTQI+ inclusion. We followed this by sharing our own personal stories of inclusion and exclusion, to try and understand each other’s perspectives.

    In January 2024 we had a pastoral decision to make. The Prayers of Love and Faith had been commended by the House of Bishops, and one of our congregation was planning to marry his long-term partner that spring and would love us to pray for them in church. I cautiously proposed that we offer these prayers to people with a connection with the parish. I was delighted that a PCC member suggested offering them to anyone who asked, as some couples wouldn’t have this option in their own parishes, and this received broad support. The resolution was passed unopposed, and I was privileged to lead prayers for Sam and Albert that April. This also demonstrated that the PCC was overwhelmingly wanting to affirm same-sex couples, so the difficult question was how we express that and whether IC membership was the right way to do this.

    Over the course of 2024 we adopted new values for our church community: inclusive, engaged, connected, inviting, which were warmly welcomed by the PCC and congregation. At the APCM, the question came again: would the PCC consider joining Inclusive Church? With all that we had done, we still hadn’t fully explored this. So the PCC discussed how we could have this conversation well. This in itself was a difficult conversation to have. Some members felt joining IC was essential to signal our inclusivity to those outside our churches, whereas others felt our church values and offering the PLF did this sufficiently; others feared that aligning with a particular organisation might alienate people with more traditional views. It became clear that a simple debate and vote would not move us forward. We had already spent many hours of PCC meetings on this and were making little meaningful progress towards agreement. It also became clear that we had to walk towards this. However difficult it would be to make a decision, not making a decision was taking its toll too.  

    So I planned a “month of inclusion”, for the PCC and wider congregation to learn about Inclusive Church and explore ideas of inclusion in general. We invited disabled, GMH, LGBTQI+, and neurodivergent guest preachers to help us listen to voices underrepresented in our church community and leadership. Our monthly discussion group heard from members of local churches that were part of IC. I encouraged PCC members to reach out to people who saw things differently and try to understand each other. And we set aside a whole PCC meeting to learn about Inclusive Church, with a vote at the following meeting.

    For the meeting, I invited an external facilitator. We reflected together on 1 Corinthians 12, on what it means to be a diverse body and to need one another. Each person was invited to share what they had learned so far in the process. We were joined on zoom by the IC National Co-ordinator, who answered our questions. I assured the PCC that while I was in favour of joining IC, I was committed to the parish whatever the outcome of the vote, and I wanted them all to be part of the churches.

    The meeting was difficult. Some people found it upsetting. Some felt that the process was too focussed on joining Inclusive Church and wanted to hear about alternatives. Some wanted to have a fuller exploration of Biblical and theological perspectives on sexuality. Some were concerned about aligning ourselves with an external organisation we had no control over. Some, sadly, felt approaches by other PCC members had been aggressive (although I remain convinced that was no-one’s intention). Some felt that not to join IC would be letting down the next generation. Some people felt uncertain about their future in our churches. 

    I wanted everyone to feel heard, but giving everyone even 5 minutes to talk would take up another whole PCC meeting. So between PCC meetings I offered 1:1 conversations to everyone on the PCC, not to persuade but to listen to their perspective. Each PCC member was invited to write a short statement setting out their position, and these were circulated before the meeting. With the Churchwardens, I gathered the arguments we’d heard into a ‘pros and cons’ list.

    We finally came to the vote. I set out the long journey of learning and listening we had been on. I set out what would happen if we voted no, and if we voted yes – both of which were underpinned by the same ongoing commitment to inclusion that the PCC had already expressed. We agreed to receive the vote in silence. We voted, and had a clear majority in favour. And we continued our meeting to discuss the things we really wanted to be talking about as a PCC – our mission, safeguarding our children, caring for our buildings.

    At one level, little has changed. Both churches remain committed to inclusion. Each is now forming a small group to develop different areas of inclusion: one probably focusing on disability, the other on LGBTQI+ welcome, which I hope would have happened anyway.

    But a few new people have found us through the IC directory. We now partner with Christians at Pride to host a monthly service, and have joined other local Inclusive Churches to share a stand at the university Freshers’ Fair. Most importantly, the Inclusive Church logo on our website and noticeboards now stands as a specific sign of welcome to those who might otherwise presume that they were not.

  • A Response to “The Doctrine of Marriage and the Prayers of Love and Faith: Texts and Contexts: a Report of the Faith and Order Commission” (GS Misc 1430)

    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 second report which briefed the House of Bishops before they made their decisions in October about Living in Love and Faith (LLF). This is another extraordinary document, with which I imagine many of the members of the Faith and Order Commission will not have been entirely content. At least, I hope they would not be.

    Its purpose is to determine ‘whether and how the Church’s public use of these prayers coheres with, realises new boundaries for, or departs from its established teaching on marriage’ (§1). It does not do this, as we shall see. But it does present a case, or perhaps more accurately talk around the assumption, that the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF) (let alone equal marriage) would constitute a departure from the traditional doctrine of marriage. It does this around four general themes:

    1. public perception and theological significance of the PLF;
    2. ecclesial condoning of “life choices”;
    3. disagreement and liturgical diversity;
    4. the Church’s traditional teaching on marriage.

    1) Public Perception and Theological Significance

    The primary concern is not theological. It is about what we are seen to do. In §5 a distinction is established, between private prayers and public prayers, which is ‘not merely practical but theologically significant’. What is meant by this is that private prayers are less likely to be misinterpreted as condoning or blessing something which we actually think is bad and do not think should be blessed or condoned. Whereas, ‘In the setting of public worship, it is impossible to escape the reality that the use of the PLF is liable to be received, however unintentionally, as ecclesial endorsement of the relationship being blessed’ (§14, cf.§24). The primary problem is public perception, that people should misunderstand us and think we are blessing and approve of queer people, when in fact we are not and do not. This is not in fact a theological consideration, but a practical one of public perception.

    The argument gets stranger. A distinction is drawn between regular services and occasional ones. ‘Regular services,’ we are told, ‘carry a high presumption of normativity and significance.’ Yet ‘Bespoke services,… by their out-of-the-ordinary nature will also suggest a high level of normativity’ (§15). So it is hard to see what distinction is being drawn here.

    The essential point of the first section of the Report is that, whatever liturgical provision is offered for same-sex couples, it will be interpreted as a marriage by people at those services and by the Anglican Communion and wider society (§§26,28). Although ‘Many would maintain that audience perception does not in itself determine doctrine’ (§32), ‘The weight of audience reception, then, may tip the balance from pastoral care into apparent [doctrinal] contradiction’ (§30). And we are reminded twice that ‘lex orandi, lex credendi’ (§§29,34). In other words, liturgy should mean what we say it does, but it doesn’t, and in fact it does mean what people attending the liturgy or talking about it on ‘social media responses or press headlines’ think it does (§32). This argument is repeated in §§66-68 in the context of a discussion of the importance of published liturgy.

    There is much concern also in §27 about the clergy and lay leaders who will be affected by the ‘symbolic resonance and precedent of a prominent public LLF service’. It is not made clear what that means. It is a strangely evasive paragraph. Presumably a gay bishop and their partner using the prayers. But, of course, that would never happen, would it.

    2) Ecclesial Condoning of “Life Choices”

    After concerns about whether we might be seen to be blessing same-sex relationships, next is the question of whether the Church is condoning same-sex couples and their ‘life choice/s’. This overtly homophobic phrase of long standing is used at both §11 and §14.  We are told that there is agreement ‘that God’s blessing may be prayed for over persons and intentions without necessarily affirming all aspects of a relationship or life choice’ (§11). It is apparently entirely possible to bless a same-sex couple without blessing in any way any part of their life together. If this seems strange, we are reassured that, ‘The Church has long provided public prayers in circumstances of moral or pastoral ambiguity’ (§19). Here, you might be forgiven for thinking that a door was maybe being opened to permitting a liturgy which also allowed for moral ambiguity (however much it feels unreal to suggest that this aspect of my life and identity might be any more morally ambiguous than a straight person’s). But that door is rapidly slammed shut.

    The Report gives short paragraphs to deal with the supposed arguments of unidentified and unreferenced ‘supporters of the PLF’ in a way which suggests that they/we may not have been in the room at the time. These supporters ‘point to analogous liturgical acts which mark without enacting and bless without endorsing every moral dimension of the context’, like civic services and memorials (§33). If we bless at civic services and memorials without being seen to condone every aspect of what we are blessing, can we do the same here? Computer says no. ‘In these contexts, there are some fairly set cultural expectations within which the Church can navigate at such commemorative events’ (§33). Apparently, we are meant to understand that that could not possibly also be true for using the PLF, although that is not worked out for us. Indeed, so prone to confusion with marriage must the PLF be that clear differentiation from marriage would require ‘clarity of liturgical differentiation’ and ‘the willingness of Church leaders to undertake sustained theological communication’ (§35). Now, I enjoy a public lecture as much as the next theologian, but even I think that would be overkill before a church service.

    Apparently, just telling people that it isn’t a legal wedding, as clergy I know have done who have used PLF so far, would still leave everyone confused. I am unconvinced. LGBTQIA+ people know that the Church is ambivalent towards us, and if we don’t know anything we assume that the Church is actively hostile. But these arguments are rehearsed again in §§81-83 and §86, just to make sure you heard them if you happened to be reading quickly before a meeting. The “theological question” is then summed up in terms which appear entirely out of the blue, unconnected as they are to the argument in the rest of the Report:

    Theologically, the question posed by the public use of the PLF is not primarily about whether God’s grace is available to all. It is about how the Church responds lovingly to the hope of those who come before God and desire to show forth their praise in thanksgiving for what God has given them. (§88)

    Is it? It hasn’t felt like that’s the theological question in this theological briefing. There’s nothing about the hope of those who come before God to give thanks to God. Perhaps they left that bit out. And if we are morally ambiguous and not-to-be-condoned then it is hard in any case to see what there is to give thanks for to God in Church. Our evil ways? What a strange thing to say.

    3) Disagreement and Liturgical Diversity

    The Report deals in some depth with how liturgical diversity has been handled in the Church of England in the past. The liturgical text is not a ‘narrow prescription’ but rather ‘a framework capable of bearing diverse theological interpretations’ (§42). This is presented as maybe a good thing, though in that section on how the public received liturgy it seemed to be a bad thing. There is a delightfully idealistic statement that Canons A5 and B5 ‘protect the liturgy from becoming an instrument of theological partisanship and ensure its function as a shared act of worship grounded in common faith’ (§43). Perhaps the authors are wilfully unaware of the many parishes and network churches in the Church of England which never or almost never use authorised liturgy, even if technically they perhaps do something which could be defended as a Service of the Word. The Catholicisation of the liturgy in Common Worship has not been accepted throughout the Church of England, and A5 and B5 have not ensured liturgical unity. Why would we expect them to now? Comments commending the ‘structured plurality’ of ‘theological sensibilities and liturgical styles’ in the deployment of different Eucharistic prayers (§45) and reminding us that prayers are not ‘neutral containers into which new meanings may simply be poured’ (§47) do not accord with the reality of the breadth of theological positions on the eucharist which are now accommodated by Common Worship’s diversity of prayers (if Common Worship or the Book of Common Prayer are used at all in a parish or network church).

    There is then a rather confusing but impressive argument about the Ritual Controversy and the tension between ‘prescription, rubric, and enactment’ (§§50-57). It seems to be strongly implied that, unlike other times when there have been debates and movements for change, we are somehow walking into this without proper discernment. But if the gruelling process of LLF which has lasted for the entirety of my training and ordained ministry was not discernment, I don’t know what discernment would look like.

    Suddenly the Report raises the tone, almost comically, warning us:

    Episcopal guidance becomes critical: without clear episcopal teaching and supervision, the national coherence of liturgical practice – and the doctrinal witness it sustains – may be compromised. (§60)

    It is precisely in the act of translating these prayers into public worship that the theological and doctrinal stakes become most acute. (§85)

    I think that we are intended to hear the warning that the national coherence of liturgical practice may be compromised with the same concern as a warning that the hull of our submarine might be compromised. However, this is not how it lands. It is hard to get upset about the stable door needing shutting when the horse is galloping gaily away over the horizon.

    And the Report is quite direct that this is in fact the reality:

    The Church’s embrace of liturgical diversity has hitherto been sustained by theological agreement on the central matters of faith. Where disagreement has existed – on baptism, the Eucharist, or the nature of ordination – it has generally been held within a framework of authorised texts and common structures. (§63)

    This is an extraordinary admission, given the picture presented that the PLF risked tearing up a unified doctrinal-liturgical fabric. In fact, on minor and unimportant issues, not at all central in any way, like baptism, the Eucharist or Holy Orders, we already disagree. And that is apparently fine. However, we are reminded, lest again a door towards living with disagreement be opened to us, that:

    If liturgical practice is allowed to diverge from doctrinal principle, then the Church’s claim to be a confessing body – one that worships according to what it believes may be placed in jeopardy. (§64)

    Jeopardy. Well, as much as I would like everyone to be of one mind, the Report has already said that disagreement and divergence has happened over central issues, and the Church is still one body with one head, however many times we have disagreed, done different things, or even gone our separate ways. This just reads strangely, along with the warning that suddenly liturgical difference is something about which we should now be terrified into inaction, now that LGBTQIA+ people are involved. This aspect of the report reads like an attempt to create panic where no panic is necessary. Or, if it was necessary, it was probably necessary over the past 40 years, when our present liturgical divergence was taking root.

    (4) The Church’s Traditional Teaching on Marriage

    Do you remember that the purpose of this Report was meant to be to work out whether the PLF departed from the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage? You could be forgiven for having forgotten, having worked through all of this. The so-called “traditional doctrine of marriage” is first stated at §38, though this is only to establish how much this conflicts with the PLF which ‘suggests at least a degree of ecclesial affirmation of the relationship’ (§37). That the authors believe that the PLF constitute a departure from the “traditional doctrine of marriage” is not explored, only the implications of this finding.

    The unchallenged assumption that the unchanging doctrine of marriage in the Church of England is and has always been that it be between one man and one woman for life runs throughout the Report. At §22 and in footnote 9, a reference is made to GS Misc 1407, which was the Episcopal Reference Group’s paper on marriage and its accompanying compendium of sources. The compendium is interesting in that it gives a useful overview of the ways in which the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage and human sexuality has changed a lot, even as the Church has professed not to change our teaching or doctrine, only our pastoral practice. This change is now normal.

    We do not actually believe (as a Church) that marriage is between one man and one woman, or if we do we certainly have not believed that unchangingly or traditionally. The Lambeth Conferences of 1888 and 1988 came to exactly opposing conclusions about polygamy. We also do not actually believe (as a Church) that marriage is for life, given that remarriage of divorcees is now routine in the Church of England, and not reserved to the ‘exceptional circumstances’ envisaged by Marriage in the Church After Divorce (2003). It now seems only in really exceptional circumstances that marriage of heterosexual couples after divorce is ever denied.

    I certainly have never heard of public penance being done by heterosexual divorcees to make clear that the Church does not condone their remarriage before their service of thanksgiving. But the Report uses divorce as an example of another ‘morally ambiguous’ situation which the church does not bless (§19). It is made clear in the liturgy, apparently, that what is offered to divorcees is not a blessing. But I have never known that service to be referred to in any terms other than as a ‘wedding blessing’.

    Conclusion

    This Report is frustrating, and disturbing. It presents the PLF as something of a worst-case scenario, with the potential to detonate the hitherto integral liturgical unity of the Church of England. However, it is not balanced. It is not theologically consistent. And its arguments are at times obfuscatory and self-referential. It does not evaluate whether the PLF are consistent with the Church of England’s doctrine of marriage(s). But it does make it appear as fait accompli that the PLF are inconsistent in a way that suggests that the House of Bishops has no freedom to exercise their episcopal prerogative to authorise them. As such, this was a confusing and at times needlessly offensive Report to read.

  • A Response to “The Nature of Doctrine and the Living God: a Report of the Faith and Order Commission” (GS Misc 1429)

    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

    We can now see the legal advice and theological briefing which the House of Bishops was given before making their October decisions on Living in Love and Faith (LLF). One of these, the report of the Faith and Order Commission entitled The Nature of Doctrine and the Living God (GS Misc 1429), surveys Anglican understandings of the development of doctrine and the role theology has to play in the life of the Church. Putting it succinctly, the report makes it pretty clear that support for the Prayers of Love and Faith (not even for equal marriage) would probably constitute a “change” of doctrine which would also constitute an unacceptable change in our understanding of what scripture is, who God is, and who we are as created beings.

    Church reports are never as satisfying in theological terms as a good academic paper or book. They have different purposes and different standards for the arguments they make. And we also do not know which members of the Faith and Order Commission really contributed to it, and how, and to what extent its membership would agree with all the arguments made. I suspect that they don’t all feel excellent about this report. But we do not know any of this any more than we know whether any of the bishops have dissented from recent decisions and why. So we are left to evaluate the Report on its own terms, and to ask generous questions of those who may or may not have written the arguments it makes.

    It must be said from the outset that it is a strange document. It does have a few bloopers, as all reports do. The comment in §4 of the extended summary that ‘As the greatest of the medieval scholastics, Aquinas is representative of the thinking of the church catholic’ is certainly entertaining. It presents Aquinas’ thought as settled and established, ignoring the fact that the turmoil in the Roman Catholic church over the past 200 years has largely been caused by fundamental disagreement about what Thomas Aquinas meant, and whether the Aquinas we are talking about is his direct writings or the tens of generations of his interpreters who came after.

    As a scholar of catholic theology, a blooper like this does make my eyes roll involuntarily. But more problematically, it represents an attempt in this Report to present doctrine as something generally static, generally serene, a quiet lake in which even its dynamism is limited to the occasional wave breaking on the shoreline of its boundaries.

    But this is theological and historical make-believe. The theology of Paul was a seismic shock to the world. The emergence of the urban episcopate had monks and citizens rioting in the streets of the Mediterranean. The theology of Augustine was a genuine shock to the Church. Even the theology of Thomas Aquinas, with his startling new Aristotelian approach, was shocking and new, and was not and is not uncritically accepted in the church catholic.

    The doctrine of the church has never been worked out calmly and quietly. That isn’t how people work, especially not when we believe things dearly and love fervently the God about whom we are trying to speak and teach. Any portrayal of doctrine as settled and serene is fantasy. Well argued fantasy. But fantasy nevertheless.

    Section III of the report attempts to construct an Anglican sense of what doctrine is and where its limits are. It does this with a very eminent group of white theologians from the UK and North America, 22% of which are women. But it seems to pretend that the rest of the Anglican Communion and humanity has nothing to offer. They are or were all (John Henry Newman probably aside) either straight or in heterosexual marriages. Apparently nobody who would be directly affected by the Prayers of Love and Faith has ever thought about doctrine. Certainly never in the global south. There are people, even LGBTQIA+ people, South of the equator and East of Suffolk.

    In section III a degree of complexity is dealt with. But this is jettisoned in its summary synthesis §139-146 where a seductively unclear conclusion is presented:

    The nature of doctrine might be summarised as true knowledge about God that is communally authorised by warrant in the Holy Scriptures and is, therefore, communally regulative. (§146)

    What does “Communally Regulative” actually mean? Does it have a conservative meaning of establishing the bare minimum of precepts which a person must accept in order to be confident of their salvation, in the sense of Article VI of the Articles of Religion? Or does it have a broader, more liberal application, in the sense that ‘those things a Christian is required to know, believe, and observe are available to all in their reading of Scripture’ (§172) and that whatever lies outside this is not to be permitted. The Report acknowledges that the latter approach ‘is not expressed in the Church of England’s historical formularies per se’ (fn. 154).

    The former, more conservative approach, might fit better the doctrine of the scriptures found in the Book of Common Prayer and the historic formularies of the Church of England. English Anglicanism, at least in its formularies, is conservative about what it considers to be a “first order” issue. If anything ever mentioned in scripture becomes a “first order” issue, simply by virtue of the fact that it is mentioned in scripture, doctrine will simply cease to function as a useful means by which the Church teaches God’s people what their salvation is, and where their hope should be. Just because we feel very strongly about something at the moment, on either side, does not make it a first order issue.

    The knots a more liberal and expansive approach to what is a “first order” issue can get us into are clear in §171 of the conclusion. To pull at one thread of the great edifice of “first order” doctrine which has been built up seems to threaten to unravel the whole.

    For many, the doctrine of marriage as it has been articulated historically foregrounds a clearly defined set of biblical texts. Furthermore, those advancing that argument maintain those texts are decisive in their teaching that only relationship between one man and one woman may be offered a form of divine authorisation in a marriage service, blessing, or prayer. To argue otherwise – as those in support of the PLF do – appears to constitute a simultaneous challenge to the doctrine of marriage, the doctrines that marriage refers to (such as creation and redemption), and also the doctrine of Scripture. (§171)

    The illusion of a near eternally settled body of doctrine which peacefully and unchangeably has taught and guided God’s people is both a historical fantasy, and also dangerous, as our theology becomes so simply overconnected that everything is raised to being a “first order” issue. Such theology is not strong. It is brittle. It is magisterial. It is expansive, regulatory and tends towards the authoritarian. It moves us ever closer to the next divisive issue and the next schism. It makes “windows into men’s souls” beyond what is necessary to assure them of their salvation. In that sense, it is deeply un-anglican.

  • Liturgical Business? Canon B2, the Calendar, and Prayers of Love and Faith

    Sammi Tooze is a member of General Synod, a member of the Liturgical Commission, and the diocesan contact for Together in York Diocese

    When General Synod meets later this week, we find ourselves dipping into the canonical waters of Liturgical Business. This will be the first piece of formal Liturgical Business many of us will have participated in, as it’s the first occasion this Quinquennium that it’s found itself on our agenda. The proposal before Synod will be to add two entries to our Common Worship Calendar: a Festival of God the Creator and a Commemoration of the Twenty-One Martyrs of Libya.

    But why the Calendar, and why only two additions? One of the treasures of our Calendar is the framework it offers us for spiritual journeying, a pilgrimage of heart and mind through the spiral of the liturgical year. As we follow the cycle, we encounter God and God’s story, and are changed by it. In the Calendar, we also encounter the stories of saints – days intentionally set aside to remember holy people who have gone before us in faith. On their appointed days, we not only recall their names but reflect on how their journey of faith, in all its joys and challenges and messiness, inspires and shapes our own lived-faith today.

    So who decides which holy people appear in our Calendar? Roughly every ten years, the House of Bishops requests that the Liturgical Commission reviews and revises the Calendar. It is widely recognised that at this point in time, the Calendar is ready for revision, in part to review gender and racial balance, but also to discern any people who have departed this life long enough to now be considered. In order to be included in the Calendar, a person must have died at least 50 years previously – unless they are a martyr – which is why people like Florence Li Tim-Oi, Desmond Tutu and the late Queen are unable to be considered under the current rules. Having said that, the guidance issued in February 2025 under GS Misc 1409 reminds us of the flexibility we have with local commemorations, offering opportunity for each of us to integrate people such as these locally to enrich the spiritual lives of our communities.

    Back to July’s Synod. GS 2408 notes that

    The Commission resolved in May 2023 that … preparatory work is undertaken to enable a substantial revision of the Common Worship Calendar in the next synodical quinquennium

    and:

    Another part of this preparatory work for a more in-depth revision of the Calendar is the current ‘pilot’ item of liturgical business … This item will reintroduce Synod to the procedures of liturgical business after a period of ten years, which will be in itself a helpful learning exercise.

    Why is this a “learning exercise”? Because, ever since the Common Worship Calendar was created as an alternative to the Calendar in the Book of Common Prayer, any revision must be done as Liturgical Business under Canon B2. This Canon is used for any liturgical material created where an alternative provision already exists, and the current Synod has not been exposed to such a situation.

    And it’s this which is the key distinguishing point between what we will be doing with the revision of the Calendar, and the Prayers of Love and Faith (PLF). In the case of the PLF, this is a new resource, created specifically because no alternative material exists. It therefore doesn’t need to go through a B2 process in the same way as the Calendar, simply because it is not being offered as an alternative to existing liturgical material. There simply aren’t existing worship materials to which the PLF are an ‘alternative’.

    In the early stages of developing the PLF, there were many canonical routes presented as options to either ‘authorise’, ‘commend’ or ‘approve’ the PLF material. It was concluded that the House of Bishops would commend the material under Canon B5, initially to be used within existing regular acts of worship. So, when the House of Bishops commended this material for use across the Church of England, this was a clear statement that they do not present us with a departure from Doctrine.

    The use of B5 rather than B2 is important, because under a B5 process there is no requirement for a two-thirds majority vote in the three Houses of Synod. To amend the Common Worship Calendar, B2 is needed, and so we need those majorities and therefore that full synodical process of Liturgical Business.

    Synod has voted for the PLF also to be used in ‘bespoke’ or ‘standalone’ services – in fact, the suggestion of bespoke services was made after the original LLF vote took place, at a point when Synod was of the understanding that this vote would enable the resources to be used in their entirety. One objection being raised is whether a bespoke service may ‘look’ more like a wedding. Would that make it be a departure from Doctrine, requiring a B2 process and thus a two-thirds majority vote in all three Houses? It is worth reminding ourselves of one key thing here. Neither the existing commended PLF resources, nor the proposed bespoke services, have any rubrics relating to these aesthetics – what people ought to wear, who to invite, how the church may be decorated, whether bells are rung or flowers held. This means that the suggestion that a bespoke service may ‘look’ different to a regular act of worship incorporating PLF is difficult to understand as a reasoned argument, as even in a regular act of worship a couple may invite friends to celebrate with them, and may choose to dress in a certain way. And, of course, the prayers themselves are just the same; the material for a bespoke service simply offers a structure by which the already commended material can be used. Theologically these blessings are the same; it’s just that one is pre-timetabled, and the other isn’t. In itself, a bespoke service does not suggest anything more of a departure from doctrine than does a regular service where the PLF are used.

    With this in mind, with the material already commended demonstrating that it is not a departure from Doctrine, we can be confident too that bespoke services will meet the same requirements. So, noting that they are not offering an alternative to an existing resource, we do not need to use precious synodical time and resource to put them through a Canon B2 process. Synod has voted for the PLF to be used in ‘bespoke’ services too, and they can continue to be offered under Canon B5 as commended material by the House of Bishops.

     

     

     

  • We used to Have Liturgy: Now we Have Bureaucracy

    by Michael Hampson, a published author devoting his early retirement from parish ministry to producing practical resources for busy clergy and lay-led congregations, beginning with the weekly lectionary resource Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud, ssra.uk

    From the first Book of Common Prayer in 1549, the Church of England was a church defined by its liturgy.

    The legislative arguments over PLF continue as though that’s still the case. But it isn’t.

    We are no longer a church defined by liturgy. Out in the real world – in the parishes – we haven’t had a common liturgy for years.

    What dominates the life of the parishes – and makes us all Anglicans – is not a shared liturgy, but a shared bureaucracy.

    For hundreds of years, the Book of Common Prayer defined the Church of England. You could hold it in your hand (less than one inch thick, less than A6 in size) and know that you had the entire Church of England right there, in your hand: the catechism, the calendar, morning and evening prayer, the eucharist, baptism, confirmation, marriage, ordination (bishops, priests and deacons), the burial of the dead, the 39 Articles, the full text of the readings for the Sunday eucharist, and even oddments like prayers for use at sea, and for the anniversary of the accession of the sovereign; the entire church, in one small book.

    It needed updating. 1928 was a wrong turn: archaic language, too internally political, too verbose. But the Second Vatican Council (1962 to 1965) set a new tone, internationally and ecumenically. The 1973 English-language Roman missal gave us a fresh new language for liturgy, and the foundations for the Church of England’s experimental services Series 3, published the same year. After many years of careful real-life testing and feedback, and supplemented by pieces commissioned from actual poets that are still amongst the best-loved pieces of poetic liturgy today (“Father of all, we give you thanks and praise…”), ASB 1980 replicated the high ambitions of BCP 1662: the entire Church of England, defined by its liturgy, renewed, in one book. The pages were slightly larger, the book was now thicker, but the layout and the language were fresh and accessible, and everything was there, from the complete text of the Sunday lectionary to the ordination of bishops, priests and deacons, via the eucharist for every season, baptism for every context, and morning prayer, evening prayer and eucharist for every day of the year; the entire Church of England, in one small book. Anyone could hold it in their hand. It belonged to all of us, to everyone. Hundreds of thousands of copies were bought by the parishes. Gold-edged copies, bound in white leather, were presented at baptisms and confirmations. A church, defined by its liturgy.

    How we got to where we are today is a story for another day; write your own version. But look at us now. Common Worship is not a book, or even a bookshelf, or even a bookshop, but a boundary-less concept, consisting of mismatched publications in different formats, corrections and revisions and supplements to those publications only ever issued as General Synod documents, some in PDF format, others in DOCX or HTML, plus various sections of different websites, apps, annual publications, and more besides if you want to try Google. Fine, if you have the time to spare. What are lay people, or enquirers on the brink of coming to faith, supposed to make of it all? We used to have liturgy; now we have bureaucracy. On Sunday at church, expect a photocopied leaflet; or possibly no liturgy at all. Even bishops don’t know where it begins and ends. Churchwardens haven’t a hope.

    But it’s more than just the loss of our liturgy. Where liturgy once held the Church of England together, something else holds the Church of England together instead; and that’s a huge bureaucracy. For every two-and-a-half full-time parish clergy, there’s a full-time-equivalent diocesan post: someone beavering away doing something at the regional office. All these huge, enormously expensive diocesan operations have emerged from nowhere over the last sixty years. Perhaps they are all doing valuable Christian work by some definition, but they are often hugely partisan, and only very weakly related – if at all – to a church once defined by its parishes and its liturgy. And having emerged from nowhere, these powerful partisan bureaucracies, linked to the national institutions, are now the only thing holding us together.

    At the end of the year 2000 – as the authorisation of ASB 1980 expired – the Church Times carried a cartoon, presumably intended to mock the Prayer Book Society, or at least to mock the idea of nostalgia in general. The caption ran: In 2295AD, the annual meeting of the ASB Society was held on one of Jupiter’s moons. But I think that’s me. Because ASB was replaced by nothing, nothing at all. Someone in clergy chapter pointed out at the time that ASB morning and evening prayer had technically become unauthorised without being replaced, so legally BCP was the only option (or perhaps Patterns for Worship?). I thought of him as a pedant; he was actually the canary in the mine, warning of a future where nobody in authority, or anywhere else, cared about common liturgy any more. Four and a half centuries of a church defined by its liturgy were over. They were over that day – the day that ASB’s authorisation expired – and he was the only one that both noticed and cared.

    Amongst the many losses, when ASB 1980 expired, was the use of adventurous bible translations. The set readings for Sunday’s Holy Communion, printed out in full in ASB, included readings from translations like The Jerusalem Bible, The New English Bible, and The Good News Bible (credited as TEV, Today’s English Version) – whichever the compilers thought best for the particular passage. Common Worship provides no texts and gives no guidance. Two editions of Common Worship’s adaptation of the widely-adopted Three-Year Lectionary were published independently, one in NRSV and one in NIV, both rather clunky study translations compared to JB, NEB and TEV, neither of them always ideal for reading out-loud at length from the lectern. Both the NRSV edition and the NIV edition are now long out-of-print. And the English language moves on: just as ASB 1980 was behind the times in terms of appropriate inclusive language for the human race almost as soon as it was published, so even the latest revised editions of NRSV and NIV are behind the times in terms of appropriate inclusive language for the divine. We are left with no common liturgy, and not even a decent bible. Sign me up for the team to work on ASB 2030. We’ll include a marriage service that works without reference to the gender of the partners. And choose which of these versions of this coming Trinity Sunday’s Gospel reading we might prefer (Year C, John 16.12-15):

    ‘I still have many things to say to you – more than you can know. But the Spirit of Truth will come to you, and guide you into all truth; honouring me, by taking what is mine, and making it known to you; disclosing to you the things that are to come. All that the Father has is mine; and the Spirit of Truth will take what is mine, and make it known to you.’ [ssra.uk]

    ‘I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.’ [NIV – 11 male pronouns]

    ‘I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.’ [NRSV – 8 male pronouns]

    (For reference, the word pneuma here, in the original Greek, translated Spirit, has no gender.)

    Meanwhile, the battle over PLF continues, using bureaucratic legislation as if we were still a church defined by liturgy. But take a look around, out in the real world, in the parishes. We haven’t been a church with a common liturgy for the whole of this century. And the PLF texts themselves are unworthy: there are better ones already in use in Wales, or available from scratch in seconds on ChatGPT. So the argument is not even about liturgy, in reality; the argument is about who can control that huge bureaucracy.

    If we can step back from the ongoing argument, the real question is: who are we, really? That’s the energy that’s powering the argument. I have spent my entire ministry, from ordination at the age of 24 to early retirement at 54, under the ‘promise’ that the recognition and blessing of same-sex relationships in the Church of England was/is effectively just months away. A report, commissioned by the House of Bishops, recommending exactly that, was suppressed by the same House of Bishops that commissioned it, while I was at theological college. That’s effectively my entire adult life. The real argument isn’t about authorising a few dreadful unusable prayers; it’s about ‘who we are, really’. That’s why my personal choice has been to devote my early retirement not to fighting the bureaucracy, but to crafting good liturgy; and to beginning at the very heart of it, with scripture. In standing back to take a breath, I realise that in the SSRA Complete Three-Year Lectionary, newly (beautifully) printed and published, we have something we haven’t had since ASB 1980: a complete lectionary with texts, printed out in full, specifically intended for reading aloud; except that this time they are also well laid out on the page, and of course in a properly inclusive-language translation – unlike even the very latest versions of NIV and NRSV. Our bureaucratic church hasn’t paid attention to such things for 45 years. The grand short-lived renewal schemes that come out of our regional and national bureaucracies with seasonal regularity tragically have this one thing in common: they never have anything to say about Sunday liturgy, which is still where ordinary Christian people (remarkably, and perhaps defiantly!) commit, week by week, to learning and growing in faith.

    So maybe I’m quietly working on an ASB 2030 just because nobody else is, and having SSRA in print and online is a major start. You might want to use its Gospel reading on Trinity Sunday. And then why not stick with it for the summer and beyond. Good Sunday liturgies, good words, even well-printed books: they matter. Once they’re in place, they’re just there, dependable and reliable. And they dependably and reliably both welcome and sustain.

     

    (Sunday Scriptures for Reading Aloud: The Complete Three Year Lectionary is available in three print editions, and free online, here)

     

  • Marriage and the Bible: It’s Complicated

    A Response to the Part Report of the Episcopal Reference Group on the Doctrine of Marriage

    by Johanna Stiebert, Professor of Hebrew Bible (University of Leeds) and co-director of The Shiloh Project

    I have been married for twenty years and have co-authored a book on marriage – but I am still awestruck at the sheer amount of preoccupation and nitty-gritty theological advice on marriage that is to be found in “A Part Report of the Episcopal Reference Group of the Faith and Order Commission: Living in Love and Faith and the Doctrine of Marriage, February 2025.”

    This interim report condenses a great deal of information into nine theses. Still, it is 16 pages long and refers and links to yet another 316-page (!) document, which is also in a state of ongoing development, namely “The Church of England’s Doctrine of Marriage: A Compendium of Sources.” Say what you like: there is no shortage of effort, consultation, discussion, or verbosity on display here.[1]

    The upshot of this word-mass, however, is, ultimately, rather underwhelming: it can be summarised as “regarding marriage, there has been continuity over a long period of time and there has been change, too. Some change has been accepted, other change has been considered, resisted and rejected.” This is not especially enlightening as far as upshots go.

    While it is admirable and important to listen and to talk about human relationships and marriage, has this exercise really been productive? Is there appetite for getting serious about inclusion? And, for all the extensive and ongoing consultation and discussion, is there still “stuff” that has not been discussed, or discussed openly, frankly, and fully enough?

    Let me, an ongoing studier of the Hebrew Bible, give my own responses in the form of nine theses – adding yet more verbiage on the matter!

    1. First, the sheer amount of ink spilled might imply that the Bible (the main source of authoritative reference for Christians) refers to “marriage” in ways copious and clear. Not so. In the Hebrew Bible (the by far larger part of the biblical canon), there is not even a word that captures English “marriage.” Instead, there is – usually rather fleeting – reference to men “taking” or “lying with” or “going in to” women. There is little about, let alone clarity concerning, marriage ritual or ceremony (i.e. weddings), or anything much either descriptive or prescriptive – that is, about what “being married” is or should be. There is nothing about marriageable age, very little that suggests consent, and consequently, very little evidence for what might pass as a “stable core to the doctrine of marriage” (p.5). It is important to be frank about what is not there in the Bible.
    1. Second, what is there, or what can be puzzled together about unions between men and women (Thesis 1), is often acutely violent. Men take women[2] following wars (e.g. Deuteronomy 21:10-14 and Judges 21:10-12, 20-23). If this is marriage, it is also rape, rather than “sexual intimacy” or “friendship” (Theses 6-7). In the Hebrew Bible husbands also get a pass for accusing their wives[3] of infidelity, in the absence of proof, and for submitting them to what looks like a gruelling public humiliation (Numbers 5:11-31). Surely, this kind of conduct in marriage would not pass as “honourable” (Thesis 3); this kind of conduct, while prescribed in the Bible, should be resisted and should fall into the category of “a need for change that has been accepted.”[4] There is blatant association in the Bible between violence and marriage. This needs to be acknowledged and resisted. 
    1. Third, marriage is idealised as “a sign of the relationship between Christ and the Church” (Thesis 4), and as “God’s explicit sanction and endorsement as a holy vocation and whole-life calling in which to serve God and neighbour, not only in creation but in the Christian dispensation also” (p.8). It is good to be aspirational and to go into a relationship, especially one aimed at joining families and raising children (Thesis 5), with resolve to be friends and loyal (Theses 7 and 9). A text like Ephesians 5:21-33, as much as it clearly suggests hierarchy in marriage (vv.23-24), and as much as this text more than any other is cited by Christian abusers in cases of spousal violence, could be made right: a Christ-like husband is not abusive but loves his wife; obedience to a Christ-like husband does not involve submission to domestic violence; marriage constitutes mutual reverence.

    Most folk, however, as much as we might aspire to high ideals, such as “permanent and lifelong” (Thesis 9) union reflecting Christ’s relationship with the Church (Thesis 4), fall short. Any one person is complicated, and two people together long-term, against the backdrop of life, with its invariable serpentines and complexities, are yet more complicated still. Many of the ideals expressed by Jesus – parting with all our wealth (Matthew 19:21), loving our enemies (Matthew 5:43-48) – are noble and wonderful but nigh to impossible to live out. This pertains to ideals of marriage, too. How many among us who are married have never committed adultery, if we include there adultery in thought or in fantasy (Matthew 5:27-29)? Indeed, existing research strongly suggests that Christian marriages are as likely to end in divorce or to feature domestic violence and abuse as marriages in the general, non-Christian population: high ideals or norms do not transpire reliably in high (or even higher) conduct. Frank acknowledgement that the report idealises Christian marriage would be welcome.

    1. Fourth: several of the theses allude to the early chapters of Genesis – most notably, Thesis 1, with its reference to one man, one woman, and one flesh, but also Thesis 2, with its reference to marriage being a “gift in creation,” and (to a lesser extent) Theses 5 and 6, which refer to children (cf. Genesis 1:28) and sexual intimacy (cf. Genesis 2:24). The report asserts that what is prescribed is “specifically exclusive, monogamous marriage that was given in creation, such that other forms of marriage – several of which are contained in the Old Testament – are a falling short of or twisting of God’s original design and good gift” (p.6).[5]

    I, for one, find it rather extraordinary and bizarre that the early Genesis chapters are used so adamantly to justify heterosexual, monogamous, sexually exclusive marriage to the exclusion of all other kinds of marriage.[6] In the end, this – albeit wonderful – text is clearly a myth, complete with a talking snake and magical trees, where a human is made from dust and a woman, after all the animals, from a rib. It is a story, moreover, that departs rather sharply from the creation story that immediately precedes it (where humans are created together, after the animals). The story of Adam and Eve is the one that, more than any other biblical text, is used to drive home what marriage is and should be.

    The report, furthermore, firmly lays claim to this story. On the one hand, there is mention that the Church of England “has always recognised the marriages not only of Christian believers but of everyone,” yet on the other, it states that “Christians, however, by virtue of divine revelation, see in the same institution of marriage more than non-Christians see: most especially the ‘one flesh’ union and the sacramental signification of Christ’s relationship with his Church” (p.7). The Jewish text from the Hebrew Bible is firmly folded into a doctrine that makes Christian marriage superior (“more than”). This teeters on the brink of supersessionism. Above all, however, the mythological text is over-invested with profundity.

    Meanwhile, other texts of the Hebrew Bible – including legal texts prescribing that raped women marry their rapists (Deuteronomy 22:28-29), or the aforementioned texts linking violence and marriage, are not mentioned much. Maybe they are simply part of the change that has been accepted? Still, more honesty about how ideology drives the selection of biblical texts that construct the marriage ideal would be desirable.

    1. Now, we all hold ideologies; moreover, interpreting the Bible in ways that speak to life and how to live it will almost invariably (consciously or unconsciously) involve ideologically-motivated selection of texts. It is entirely possible to select biblical texts that provide and emphasise quite different recommendations for marriage than those of the report’s nine theses. It is entirely possible to construct recommendations that designate the married state inferior to the single and celibate state, or that permit divorce, same-sex marriage, polyamory, or unions without children – be this by choice, or not.[7] The report mentions that the State’s definition of marriage (subsequent to marriage equality of 2014) is distinct from the definition of marriage of the Church of England. The first thesis emphasises that in the Church of England marriage is between one man and one woman. Again, their becoming “one flesh” is stressed. It is acknowledged that this one-flesh-ness can be understood “sexually, socially, and even in some sense spiritually or mystically” (p.5). Yet even if two people of the same sex join sexually, socially, spiritually and mystically, this cannot, apparently, be a marriage, or God’s gift (Thesis 2), or “an honourable estate” (Thesis 3), or a sign of Christ’s relationship with the Church (Thesis 4), or “proper” sexual intimacy (Thesis 6).

    Exactly why this might be remains unclear to me. Friendship, even intimate friendship, in the Bible can be between members of the same sex – indeed, the bond between David and Jonathan, or the devotion of Ruth to Naomi, where there are also words of promise (1 Samuel 20:42; Ruth 1:16-17; cf. Thesis 9), stand out, as does the love of Jesus for his disciple (possibly, John the son of Zebedee). Indeed, these descriptions are far more suggestive of friendship than the account of Adam and Eve (or any other man and woman of the Bible, for that matter). The report refers to friendship as “the bedrock” (p.9) of marriage. Why can’t a relationship between persons of the same sex that is one of friendship, loving, intimate, consenting, and bonded by words of promise, ever be a marriage, while Adam and Eve are paradigms of marriage even though notions of friendship or consent are not exactly explicit? There is some consideration of this in the report, some mention of narrowing the “conceptual distance” between different- and same-sex unions (p.13) but this is not reflected in the nine theses. It is, ultimately, nebulous why there is a requirement for marriage to consist of one man and one woman only.

    1. The report acknowledges both change with regard to marriage, and some degree of “ambiguity and flexibility” (p.11). It says that doctrine can “develop or change” (p.2); that (albeit modest) changes have been made to the report (p.4), and that (much more significantly) there has been “pastoral accommodation” to permit divorce and remarriage in some cases (p.10), including on account of “differing interpretations” of biblical texts (p.11). There is also mention of change towards “a more egalitarian understanding” (p.12), and to permit contraception so that a married couple can “in good conscience” delay conception by artificial means (p.13). Moreover, the report asserts a shift in emphasis towards regarding sex in marriage less in terms of preventing fornication and more in terms of mutual enjoyment (p.16). It strikes me as right and good that changes and accommodation are made as knowledge (e.g. about safe forms of contraception) is gained; it strikes me as right and good to promote egalitarian marriage and to resist unfair rigidity (e.g. concerning divorce in situations where a relationship has broken down or is damaging to one or both partners).

    Moreover, there is precedent for changing doctrine within the Bible – not only in terms of how Jesus interprets Hebrew Bible doctrine but also internal to the Hebrew Bible. Hence, in the Ten Commandments, God promises to visit the guilt of parents on their children and subsequent generations (Exodus 20:5) but in both the books of Jeremiah (31:29-30) and Ezekiel (18:2-20) there is a retraction of this, stating that people will be responsible for their own sin, not for another’s. This strikes me as a progressive change within the Bible.

    Now, just as there now exists safe contraception, and just as there is more understanding and accommodation regarding divorce (which is condemned in some biblical passages), so understanding of gender and sexuality has been transformed, particularly in recent decades. There is much fuller understanding of gender and sex as being a spectrum rather than a binary and of human sexuality as much more complex than straightforwardly heterosexual, either by “natural order” (p.7) or divine design.[8] Why, if there is understanding that some humans are emotionally, psychologically, sexually, and spiritually fulfilled loving someone of the same sex, can same-sex marriage not be among the changes?

    1. Let me develop this point further. The report states firmly that “The Church of England has always believed and taught that sex is for marriage, and marriage is for sex” (p.9). Denying same-sex loving Christians a same-sex marriage, would also then deny them sex.

    This, of course, is the crux, the point of greatest division, and it is around this that much of the report circles. Same-sex marriage and homosexuality have drawn what journalist Mark Gevisser evocatively calls a dividing “pink line” – in multiple religious traditions, in marriage and sexuality debates, right around the globe. Indeed, the Bible could legitimate both same-sex inclusion and non-binary gender – because it is a dextrous text. Hence, creation of “male and female” could refer not to either/or but to male, female and everything in between – just as “old and young” and “great and small” can refer to a spectrum of ages or statures. Queer interpretations indeed offer a myriad of inclusive readings, which celebrate eunuchs as genderqueer, and the same-sex love of David and Jonathan, the Centurion and his servant, Ruth and Naomi.

    And openness to change need not mean “anything goes.” Of course, there are bounds – one such bound must be an insistence on informed consent for sex and for marriage, for instance. For this reason, I have been among those who welcomed a recent change in UK marriage law, which raised the age for marriage to at least 18 years in every case – in recognition of the magnified scope for exploitation and compromised consent of someone even younger marrying or entering civil partnership, even with parental consent.[9] Of course, ongoing discussion, including in the light of fuller understanding and growing knowledge, is important. But the reasons for resisting change in the face of new knowledge and understanding (e.g. knowledge about the nuances of human gender and sexuality) should be strongly interrogated, lest they rely on discrimination or prejudice. After all, there are biblical texts that refer to the “holy seed” and which express strong objection to marriage between different people groups (Ezra 9:1-4; Nehemiah 13:23-27), yet prohibition of miscegenation is nowadays considered straight-out racist (and in the USA, unconstitutional). Is resistance to same-sex marriage not straight-out homophobic? And if not, why not?

    1. Ultimately, the report concludes very little. It speaks (at length) of whether the “envelope” of the Church can or should be enlarged, or whether more inclusion would tear up a “God-given institution” (p.16). This is how the report ends. The report expounds and proffers possibilities for change and inclusion – and then retracts and dashes them.
    2. This blog is called “Via Media,” “the middle road,” referring to a path between extremes. Perhaps my alternative theses seem too strident, too extreme, for a middle road. My reply would be that right now, when very many minoritized groups, including queer and same-sex loving members of the human family, are ever more vulnerable in a world where sinister political forces are emboldening the weaponization of biblical texts while efforts to advance equity, diversity and inclusion are under attack, those of us who can speak out and can (or could) marry in the Church of England, have to speak out for those who cannot.

     

    Professor Stiebert has now published a further piece on the response to this blog post, on https://shilohproject.blog/a-response-to-a-response-to-a-response-yep-its-marriage-again/ 

    [Many aspects alluded to in this piece are developed more fully in Saima Afzal and Johanna Stiebert, Marriage, Bible, Violence: Intersections and Impacts (Routledge, 2024)]

    [1] All my references to theses and pages pertain to the report.

    [2]  In Numbers 31 men take little girls (v.18) in a war depicted as divinely sanctioned (31:1-3). Surely such sexual enslavement marriage is not what Thesis 2 has in mind when referring to marriage as “God’s gift.”

    [3] In Hebrew, there is one word for woman/wife and for man/husband. Context and/or translators’ choices determine which English word is used.

    [4] Numbers 5, while one of the longest legal texts about a scenario in a marriage and how it ought to be resolved, rarely features in discussions of marriage in the Bible. I could not find reference to the passage in either the compendium or the report. To be fair, the sources cited favour Christian texts, which is fair enough. Genesis 1-3 features very prominently in the compendium in particular.

    [5] Why these other forms of marriage fall short, or why later Hebrew Bible narratives tend not to make any such deficiency explicit, is not clarified in the report.

    [6] The story of Adam and Eve is also used to condemn homosexuality, non-binary gender, transgender, polygamy, polyamory, and divorce. Preoccupation with the story and with its reference to “one flesh” is already in evidence in the New Testament (e.g. Mark 10:8; Ephesians 5:31).

    [7] The report makes clear that children are not required for marriage to be valid or meaningful. It explains that marriage is the proper context for raising children, not that raising children is the purpose of marriage (p.13).

    [8] The report refers to “men and women being ‘diverse in their emotional, mental and spiritual lives, their way of experiencing and responding to reality’” – which difference it believes is instantiated in marriage to the benefit of society. It is the core argument made in the submission to the government consultation on equal marriage in 2014: “The uniqueness of marriage – and a further aspect of its virtuous nature – is that it embodies the underlying, objective, distinctiveness of men and women” (p.14). This emphasises a binary distinction that can be and has been plausibly questioned – as is acknowledged in the report, too (p.15).

    [9] This is in reference to the UK Marriage and Civil Partnership (Minimum Age) Act 2022.

  • Share and Share Alike? Living in Love and Faith and Funding the Church of England

    Professor Helen King is an authorised preacher in Oxford Diocese and an elected lay member of General Synod

    (picture credit: BBC/Yourkevich)

    In her review of Diarmaid MacCulloch’s Lower than the Angels in the London Review of Books for 6 March, Lucy Wooding observed that, ‘Few things expose the potential for illogicality, hypocrisy and cruelty within the Christian tradition more clearly than its attitude to sex.’ Put sex and money together, and you’re into a whole new league; and that’s where some dioceses already are.

    The Church of England operates with a model of giving which, depending on your diocese, is called ‘parish share’, ‘parish offer’ or ‘common fund’. It’s not the most exciting topic – although if you’ve been to a meeting of deanery treasurers you’ll have seen the passions it can arouse – but it’s essential to keeping the show on the road. The money that comes in pays the costs of clergy but also the costs of running the diocese, and of training future clergy. My own diocese, Oxford, explains it here. Parish share works differently in different dioceses, but the principle is simple: there is a formula usually based on a church’s electoral roll and weekly attendance, taking into account factors such as being in a poorer area, and this is used to divide up the overall cost. In my diocese, this is then sent to different deaneries, and they use their knowledge of the local situation to pass those costs on to individual parishes. By paying parish share, we are ensuring that the work of the church reaches into every community. We are supporting each other.

    Only that’s no longer the case. For the last few years some churches have decided that they don’t want to fund the wider Church of England in their diocese – they only want to fund churches with whom they agree. Quite who makes this decision is not always clear, and I shall return to that. There are also different situations here; some such churches simply withhold part of their parish share, others funnel it through a further body on the understanding that their money won’t go to the wrong sort of church.

    Wrong sort of church? This is exclusively about one issue; yes, the one which has taken over pretty well every debate at General Synod… the Prayers of Love and Faith, commended for use in existing services with same-sex couples wanting to be blessed in their civil relationship.

    Some parishes have signed up to something called the Ephesian Fund. Resisting charges of ‘blackmailing the dioceses’ it says it is actually making it possible for those who are unhappy to pay their parish share, and recasts that ‘wrong sort of church’ view by saying that it is ‘fuelling orthodox ministry’. Last September the stated aim was to see 500 churches paying their parish share through this fund. Its patrons are CEEC/New Wine/Living Out people (with a GAFCON UK person among their trustees) and the aim is that the money that may have funded ‘sin’ – which is what same-sex faithful relationships are classified as being, in the conservative evangelical world – can instead be diverted to help only ‘local churches that are committed to biblical faith and have signed up to the Ephesian Fund basis of faith.’ That’s the same as the CEEC basis of faith, including ‘We acknowledge God’s creation of humankind as male and female and the unchangeable standard of Christian marriage between one man and one woman as the proper place for sexual intimacy and the basis of the family.’ CEEC put out a podcast on the role of the Ephesian Fund last October, on how ‘the direction of travel’ with LLF had made some people nervous about paying their parish share.

    It’s a bit odd, when parish share isn’t exactly being used to fund ‘sin’; a same-sex couple asking for the Prayers of Love and Faith doesn’t get a cheque. Behind the slogan of wanting to be sure your money is being used for ‘gospel purposes’, the established system of poorer parishes being subsidised by wealthier parishes is being transformed into helping only our mates. This hasn’t happened with, for example, second marriages for divorced people, or the ordination of women as priests. As far as I know, no church refuses to pay its parish share because the money may support another church in the diocese where there is a woman incumbent.

    This is made more complicated when some dioceses have a parallel scheme, like the Oxford Good Stewards Trust, set up in 2021, not only before the Church of England Evangelical Council came up with the Ephesian Fund idea, but also before the Living in Love and Faith process had got as far as offering prayers to use with same-sex couples. OGST has the same statement of faith as CEEC and the Ephesian Fund. It is entirely open about how it exists ‘to enable parishes to make their contribution to Diocesan work and ministry collectively with like-minded churches rather than directly with the Diocese or through their own Deanery’. ‘Like-minded churches’: our mates. While a vicar may have a ‘mind’, I am not sure that most churches do; they contain people with different views on all topics, and personally I think that’s healthy. If a church uses OGST, some, or all, of the parish share goes to the Trust and then they send it in to the Diocese, I assume with strings attached. I have no idea how that works; is there a list of ‘like-minded churches’? OGST also takes donations from individuals – well, why wouldn’t they? – and has a list of projects to which you can donate. These are almost all about funding an extra minister in a church – I can think of plenty of churches who would love one of those – although one of the projects is rather different, as it includes funding a man to work at a theological college ‘with a distinctive focus on promoting and resourcing the use of biblical Greek in Christian ministry’.

    The Charity Commission gives the total income for the OGST in the year ended 31 December 2023 as £448,099. Those levels of money sound serious, although in the world of CofE finance they are not so significant (Oxford diocese receives over £19,000,000 from parish share).

    It’s quite hard to understand what is happening here, other than some sabre-rattling. The thing about a common fund is that it’s common – it’s not that some five-pound notes are labelled as having come from a particular church within your diocese. It’s just one pot.

    Making this even more muddled is the point that some parishes are not diverting what would have gone to parish share into either a local or national scheme that targets only the right kind of churches; instead, some parishes are not paying their parish share in full. This has consequences. If you don’t pay in full, your parish ceases to be eligible for various discretionary diocesan funds, so this strategy could hurt you more than anyone else, but I suppose that would count as a fair sacrifice to make in order to uphold your principles. There are of course also parishes which can’t pay their share in full, because they just don’t have the money. In some deaneries, other churches are encouraged to meet that shortfall locally so that the total for the deanery as a whole can be reached – which can also have the result that the deanery is eligible for an early payment discount. Win-win: we’ve done this in my deanery. But would other churches be willing to pay more to compensate for one in the deanery that has the money but refuses to play ball? I somehow doubt it.

    What does this look like in action? Let’s turn to a specific example. At the March meeting of Oxford’s Diocesan Synod I put this question in to the Chair of the Diocesan Board of Finance:

    How many churches in the diocese are placing limitations on how their parish share contributions can be used, by withholding parish share, donating through the Ephesian Fund or similar third party, or through a special arrangement with the diocese, such that their contributions cannot be used to support all churches and clergy in the diocese? How much money is affected by these arrangements?

    His response was: There are some questions of interpretation in the interests of answering this question precisely but our best estimate would be that 4 parishes in 2024 placed limitations on how their parish share contributions could be used. For these four parishes the total allocation was £689,536, and the amount actually paid was £498,198, leaving a shortfall of £191,339. In 2025 the number of churches has already risen to 5, with a shortfall expected to be around £300,000. The number of parishes paying part or all of their parish share through the Ephesian Fund or Oxford Good Stewards Trust is currently 11.

    In responses to supplementaries, the Chair clarified that uncertainty over how many parishes are opting out of the usual way of paying parish share, or not paying at all, is one reason why the diocese can’t forecast how much will be needed from parishes next year. I note from the Oxford Diocese accounts that the 2023 future plans included ‘Manage the impacts of Living in Love and Faith.’ In those same accounts, the risks identified include ‘Significant under payment of Parish Share’. For 2023 the parish share receipts of £19,060,000 represented 94.5% of the total apportioned (2022: 95.2%). Some of those not paying in full, as I’ve said, were simply unable to raise the money.

    Looking at the detailed breakdowns of parish share allocation and payment for each deanery in my diocese, I note that, for 2024, there’s a parish where only 74.5% of the allocated share was received. That is Great Chesham, mentioned in the supplementaries to my question. They were supposed to have paid £238,811. What has happened there is interesting, and although it has been mentioned in the local and national press it deserves to be more widely known, not least because of the questions of process it raises. So, based on some of the documents that are in the public domain, here goes…

    Great Chesham covers seven churches. On 10 April 2023 the Guardian reported that ‘The PCC voted last month in favour of withholding the [parish share] payment but must rerun the process after failing to comply with church rules.’ They don’t specify which rules, but that doesn’t sound good. The minutes for the 30 April 2023 ADCM (Annual District Church Meeting) of St Mary’s with St John’s Bellingdon, chaired by Revd Edward Bowes-Smith, included a finance report with the information that the DCC and PCC were ‘considering pausing the Parish Share to the Diocese’. The impression was given that there would be a pause until July at which point the money ‘can be paid over depending on what the Review decides’. This Review Group acknowledged that there were ‘different views about the Parish share’. It was not clear whether the 280 members of the electoral roll had been consulted. A question raised at the ADCM was ‘How can we still be giving monthly without everyone being notified of this?’ The response was that the monthly donations were being ring fenced while the Review Group was meeting. The minutes do not record how this was being done.

    After that ADCM, a story published by The Christian Institute on ‘CofE’s leadership has abandoned ‘the true Gospel of Jesus Christ’ by blessing same-sex partners’ made reference to Great Chesham’s PCC being about to vote to pause its parish share payments and quoted Bowes-Smith alongside John Dunnett of the Church of England Evangelical Council.

    In the following month, on 17 May, the APCM (Annual Parochial Church Meeting) of the parish of Great Chesham was held, also chaired by Bowes-Smith, as the Rector of the whole group of churches. 55 parishioners attended. It doesn’t look like the parish share pause was a specific agenda item; the minutes make no mention of it until the item on ‘Rector’s Thoughts’. Here, at last, there is specific mention of the elephant in the room, described as ‘the Church of England’s potential change in doctrine with the proposal to introduce Same Sex Blessings’. The parish clergy had said they would not conduct these blessings and ‘The PCC are happy to support the Clergy in exercising their conscience’. That, of course, is fine; it has been clear from the beginning of this process that no clergyperson has to use the prayers if they are not happy to do so. But how does the PCC pausing parish share ‘support’ clergy consciences? The minutes do not explain this, and instead the Rector mentioned the issues around how the parish share was divided between the Districts.

    It’s clear from the minutes that those present were well aware that there was more to this than how parish share is divided between churches, and that some took advantage of the opportunity to ask questions following the ‘Rector’s Thoughts’. Someone said that it was ‘inappropriate’ to have decided to pause paying parish share before the approval of the minutes of the 22 March PCC meeting at which a paper had been circulated with the interesting title ‘Supporting our Clergy and Reflecting Together on the Implications of February’s General Synod’s Motion on Same Sex Blessings: Clergy, Wardens and Treasurer’s Note’. I assume that ‘inappropriate’ action illuminates the claim of failure to follow ‘church rules’. Another person raised the point that PCC minutes were not accessible at the same time to all PCC members, meaning some knew about ‘the e-mail vote to pause the Parish Share while others didn’t’.

    An e-mail vote? Perfectly valid between PCC meetings, but conveniently this protects those who don’t want others to see how they are voting. And what were the figures in this vote? We don’t know. There are questions raised by this voting which apply more widely; returning to the Ephesian Fund, the stories they share on their website involve a PCC deciding to pay parish share to the Fund after consulting the congregation, and a PCC deciding and then informing the congregation. Whose church is it? Where do the PCC, the Annual Meeting, the electoral roll and the congregation as a whole fit in?

    Someone else at the Great Chesham APCM offered the thought that ‘Whilst it is acceptable for Clergy not to undertake Same Sex Marriage Blessings this should not result in Parish Share payments being withheld and non-engagement with the Bishop.’ So, those present were certainly not unanimous: and I couldn’t have put this point better myself.

    The specific view of one of the seven churches, Emmanuel, was also presented at that APCM: that ‘In 1 Cor 6: 9 -10 Paul teaches about those who will not inherit the kingdom of God 6 (unrepentant sin); it is difficult to endorse a Church teaching which is endangering people’s eternal fate’, so we should not ‘partner’ with those who are doing this. Their vicar Edward Millais announced that ‘if it became necessary, [he would] be willing to stop his salary and move from his house’. Emmanuel is linked to CEEC and also to ReNew. ReNew operates under the 2008 Jerusalem Declaration with these relevant points: ‘matrimony is the lifelong union between one man and one woman, and sexual relations outside that context are sinful in God’s eyes’ and adds that no ‘eldership/oversight’ roles are possible for women. ReNew writes of ‘a readiness to stand their ground in the face of opposition’. As I write this, Emmanuel are currently advertising for a ministry trainee, their ad clarifying not just that the applicant needs to be an evangelical, but that they must be in ‘wholehearted agreement with our Christian ethos, doctrines and beliefs which include the Church of England Evangelical Council’s Declaration of Faith and Additional Declarations, as well as the PCC’s 2015 resolution affirming a traditional biblical understanding of marriage (Hebrews 13:4,7)’. Emmanuel does not put DCC minutes on the website, and nor does the wider group of Great Chesham publish its PCC minutes, so the impetus for, and content of, this resolution must remain unclear.

    Also represented in the response of those present to the ‘Rector’s Thoughts’ was the deanery perspective – that Great Chesham withholding money would cause other churches in the deanery to suffer. Indeed. One of those present proposed a motion that the PCC should ‘rescind its vote to pause payment of the Parish Share until the work of the Finance Review Group is completed in July’. This was defeated: 20 voted for the motion, 45 against with 6 abstentions (if there were only 55 parishioners and the rector present, this doesn’t add up, so I assume that 55 excluded the various clergy?).

    So what happened in that review work and what decision was made in July? I don’t know. But on the accounts for 2023 the treasurer stated that ‘We overcame the great uncertainty surrounding our relations with the Diocese on our Parish Share’ meaning that ‘We are well resourced financially to weather any continued uncertainty surrounding the Church of England’.

    Well, that’s lovely for Great Chesham. But the shortfall has to be made up by other parishes, and it may be rather less lovely for them.

    Those churches who want to stay pure by not funding ‘sinful’ churches – defining ‘sinful’ purely in terms of how they treat those in same-sex relationships – seem to be content to serve on local and national church bodies alongside the members of such churches; to have their vicarages maintained and their clergy’s pensions paid with money which has come from such churches; and to receive funding from the national church without asking questions about its origins. Like some in their congregations, I would simply acknowledge that there is a diversity of belief and practice in the Church of England, on this and on much else, and that the current situation – nobody has to use the Prayers of Love and Faith unless they want to do so – already provides enough protection for consciences.