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Tag: schools

  • Recognising Grooming: Revisiting the David Tudor Case

    by Anon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     

  • The Whole of Who We Are

    by Susannah Clark; she belongs to the Fellowship of the Love of God (Oxford)

    It was Augustine who wrote ‘You were within me, but I was outside’.

    How many people find themselves living, at least in part, outside themselves: performing to colleagues to fit in and meet their approval; or conforming with others around us – at work or at church – to feel part of the group and accepted? Even sadder, when we lose contact with ourselves. You may know the feeling, when you work and work, until you finally stop and ask, ‘Yes, but where am I in all this? In the life I lead?’ and you feel out of touch with yourself.

    We so easily do this to ourselves, and drift away from who we really are, uniquely made and cherished by God. We can feel fragmented, with countless loose ends, but haunted by a kind of inauthenticity. ‘How are you, Susannah?’ ‘Oh I’m fine,’ when you’re not. In our ‘outside’ lives when we’re fronting up ourselves to others like that, it is all too easy to become alienated from the God who dwells within us, always longing and calling us to get back in touch, to open and grow… to resume the journey and vocation to become the whole of who we are.

    In the Carmelite practice of contemplation, that re-connecting with the God who knows and loves us is called ‘recollection’… collecting yourself together again, and recalling the core reality of who we are in relationship with God… God who knows us tenderly, calls us into our being and becoming, loves us to the point of no turning back… and beckons us to know ourselves in opening up and devotion of our souls.

    That opening up can be – oh – so raw, and we may well fear it: because so many of us have closed doors in our souls that we’d rather not open… old hurts, old shames, and the anxiety of what it might cost if we do: what we might unleash! And yet, there is a gentleness and healing in the love of God, and opening up to the flow of God’s love is the beginning of becoming. It’s opening up, often in trembling steps, to the whole of who we are. Most of us know on paper that love is the great commandment, the first imperative, if we are to give ourselves to God and be authentic. But truly opening up means more than just being loved.

    The flow of God’s love in our being and lives is like a stream of compassion: as Jesus described it, streams of living water that would flow from within us. It is not simply a static pool that we can wallow in for our own enjoyment alone. Yes, God does water our soul like a garden, and wants us to receive and to flourish. But the fulfilment of our being is more than self alone. The Love of God is a flowing stream, the Spirit of God, longing to reach through us to others… because that’s what love does: it flows and enlivens us in the act of opening up our hearts to others round about us. When we give ourselves like that, as channels of mercy, we start to know the best of who we are. We recollect and encounter the authenticity we can have in God.

    For decades I self-harmed, and ‘who’ people saw did not match who I was, how I felt, inside. I policed and defended and locked down that person for fear of discovery. I tried to project and act out a congruent manhood to meet their expectations and presuppositions, and yet… how I was inside my ‘gestalt’, what I felt, how I longed to become, was painfully incongruent with my physical body. So I tried to shut all the doors, put my integral person in a box, tape down the lid, and hide it away. But repression can be like a dam that increases and increases in pressure, until it erupts in negative ways: in my case in terrible self-harm. That was the cost of ‘performance’ outside my true self. Not waving but drowning.

    Then sometimes the dam finally breaks – I’m not just talking about trans experience, it happens to many people. In my own case I think it broke because I ached for God so much. I ached to be true. And once the dam was broken I could not put it all back. I transitioned. It was not a casual ‘life style choice’. I lost friends who ghosted me. I was told by my employers that I must leave. I lost my home. For a while I even lost my children. People at my church told me I was wrecking my life. And yet, God did not abandon me. On the contrary, I felt held and comforted and spiritually alive. I commenced hormones, and within weeks the self-harm of decades just ceased. I underwent surgery. An amazing Anglican community of sisters (in fact the community that was later featured in ‘Call the Midwife’) took me in, loved me, and nursed me for ten weeks after surgery. ‘Yours is just like ours’ they gently assured me as they tended the wounds. Christian inclusion.

    My contemplative life deepened and came alive, and I was guided and helped by another Anglican community: the Sisters of the Love of God in Oxford. They were wonderful, and encouraged me along my contemplative path. I learnt the practice of trust in the God who is there, even through the cloud of unknowing. I dared to open doors long closed, I confronted myself, I opened my being to God. My life became congruent and no longer racked by dysphoria. Instead… deep psychological ease and a more practical, productive day-to-day, week-to-week journey. It has now been fifteen years. I re-trained as a nurse, and it was the best thing I could have done: in looking outwards to others I found myself healed from within. My life – and the journey to become the whole of who I am – expanded, opened up, found release in little practical acts on the hospital wards. Contemplative life is not just internal: it permeates and colonises our practical lives as well.

    Friends at church had warned, ‘It will end badly’ and some Christians still say ‘Transition is wrong. It’s against the will of God.’ They call my vagina a ‘mutilation’ and my womanhood a fake. Politicians and sadly some Christians go further, politicising my quiet life and who I am, and framing people like me as ‘threats’ and ‘predators’. It is hurtful and in some cases hateful. They talk about an ‘ideology’ but in truth they have an ideology themselves. Their language endangers trans lives on the street, massaging the ‘culture wars rhetoric’ and providing a kind of mandate for hatred in the eyes and sick minds of those who spit, or threaten, or shout abuse: ‘you’re a pervert and a bloke in a frock’. It is sad and a bit shameful, weaponising who we are for political gain. In truth, for most trans people our lives are as mundane as anyone else’s: getting up, going to work, shopping, washing, ironing, making supper. It’s the same ‘lifestyle’ as yours I am sure: it’s called being a human being.

    My children – all three are committed Christians – have returned to love me tenderly. I am so proud of them and their devoted lives. I’m not jubilant about the impact on them and others, but we are loving and close now, which I find really humbling. One of my last jobs before retirement in 2022 was as a school nurse caring for 1200 teenagers in a large secondary. There I witnessed – but did not proselytise – four trans teenagers who were trying to explore the whole of who they were. The school had a great ethos: to afford them time, space, and respect. The same respect given to young gay or lesbian teens there. They, and all the students, would come to me for care, for cuts, inhalers, migraines, allergic reactions, or sometimes just to talk. And within the first week, I was just ‘the nurse’. Teens are great like that.

    It’s not just individuals though, is it? It’s not only about me, me, me. I’m incredibly insignificant in the great scheme of things. Thank goodness. The whole point about transition is just to get on with your life, only with greater psychological ease, more congruity, more in touch with who you are and can become. It’s the same for the Church as a whole: the call of God to open up to the whole of who we are and can become. Not excluding people, or insisting everyone conforms to a single dominant dogma, but learning that when a church welcomes the neuro-diverse, the foreigner, the gay, the bi-, the disabled, the trans, the precious individual beset with mental health issues… every one of them has been uniquely created by God and brings gift to God’s community… which would be impoverished without them.

    Yes, as a Church, we should pray that in opening up to the flow of God’s love we open more and more to the whole of who we are.

     

     

  • Equality, ‘headship’ and authority: drawing the line in schools and churches

    by Rev Martine Oborne, Chair of WATCH (Women and the Church), a group that works for gender equality in the Church of England

    It should go without saying that all schools in this country want to teach children that all people are equal and should have equal opportunity. And it is important that schools should do this, as young people may be picking up other messages in society, in their home lives and from religious leaders.

    A couple of weeks ago I was at a Church of England school giving a talk to a group of sixth formers, who were studying Religious Education for A level, about gender equality and how equality is at the heart of the Christian faith. The class was a mixed group of boys and girls, Christians, Muslims, and others of other faiths or none.

    After the talk, I opened the floor for questions and was a bit shocked when one boy put up his hand and said, ‘It’s God’s will that men should be in authority over women.’ A couple of boys sitting next to him smirked and a number of the young people shifted in their seats uncomfortably. I challenged what he was saying, arguing that scripture can be and has been interpreted this way, but it also can and should be interpreted differently. Christian or Muslim, I strongly believe that it is God’s will for us to all see each other as equal – that there is no one lesser or greater than ourselves.

    The boy pushed back, quoting scripture, and explained why he believed women need to be controlled by men. I saw the teacher give him a look, but I calmly responded to his questions, giving alternative interpretations to the scriptures he referred to. He and I could have continued back and forth all day, but I tried to involve others who might have different opinions.

    At the end of the class, when the young people had gone, I had a chat with the teacher. She said that it is a problem that some young people are being taught by faith communities that it is men’s role to lead and women’s role to submit to that leadership. She said that in RE, a few years ago, she would have given some input about the interpretation of different texts regarding gender in scripture and then allow the students to discuss in small groups. She says she can no longer do this, as it causes so much upset and abuse. Another RE teacher I later spoke to about the experience confirmed that, more and more, boys are goading girls at school that they are the superior sex.

    As Chair of WATCH, a campaign group for equality for women in the Church of England, and as a vicar in West London, I spend a lot of time arguing that equality is at the heart of the Gospel and that we shouldn’t be discriminating against people on grounds of sex or other protected characteristics. WATCH calls for an end to the institutional discrimination, whereby it is still permissible for parishes to advertise just for a male vicar or to refuse the authority of a female bishop. Personally, it troubles and upsets me that our church is divided and some priests won’t receive communion from others because they are female and some of my colleagues don’t believe women should be vicars or bishops, or even preach (other than to women and children.)

    Nonetheless, I had not realised that the theologies that underlie these positions, especially headship (or ‘complementarian’) theology, are having such an impact on young people – at least, as evidenced by my visit to that Church of England school.

    Recently there has been some discussion about whether schools, particularly Church of England schools, should be teaching children about the ‘white supremacy pyramid’ and systemic racism. Some dioceses already recommend using the ‘pyramid’; for example, Derby. Whether this is a good idea or not, we all accept that schools should be teaching that it is not right for anyone to consider themselves greater or lesser than anyone else on the grounds of skin colour. But what about gender? How should schools respond to young people who are being taught in mosques or churches that men need to have power over women? Not only is this situation unpleasant and offensive for girls to contend with in schools, it is also dangerous. There is much evidence that in cultures that teach and accept male privilege over women there are higher levels of violence against women and girls, than in cultures which promote equality between the sexes.

    The day before my school visit, I was in York at General Synod and had a number of conversations with Conservative Evangelical Christians while I was there. I was campaigning, along with the Student Christian Movement, for an ‘Honest Church’ where, if we are going to continue with institutional discrimination against women, then we should at least be transparent about this, and churches that limit women’s roles should be clear about their position. Talking to one man, he admitted that his church says nothing about its headship theology on its website, but he said that they do teach headship theology in the church at least once a month, so anyone going to the church for any length of time should soon realise this. When I heard this, I thought that this was probably a good thing so that at least people knew the situation and could choose whether this church was for them or not. But now, having gone into the school, I am not so sure.

    Religious leaders have a lot of power and influence, especially over younger people, and headship teaching is possibly being accepted without any critical analysis or any acknowledgement of alternative approaches. As a result, some men may be hearing that they need to control women; indeed, that it is their role to show authority over women. I’d like to see the Church of England give a clear edict to our schools that it is not God’s will that one sex should have authority over the other. But, given that we allow this teaching in our churches and that we state in recent legislation that we want such churches to flourish, then that currently seems impossible.

    And the goading, or worse, seems set to continue.