Divorce and the Episcopate

Published in today's Church of England Newspaper under the heading 'Getting to the Root of what Marriage Means'.

Fans of Colin Firth’s recent Oscar™-winning performance will no doubt have noticed that the film in which he stars is not titled The Duke’s Speech. Overcoming a serious stammer is an impressive feat for a public speaker, but the story would have been considerably less interesting had Albert not replaced his brother Edward as King, just as Western civilization was to face its greatest challenge to date.

What modern audiences must find difficult to appreciate (if they notice it at all), however, is that Edward’s abdication came about not because the law of the land or the constitution required it, but simply because neither the Prime Minister nor other key leaders of the Commonwealth would accept the King being married to a divorcee.

Had today’s standards prevailed, of course, there would have been no problem — though it is hard to imagine Britain going to war with Hitler, having a monarch so apparently enamoured with the latter’s political views. But as Edward himself said, Wallis Simpson was the woman he loved, and today that would clearly be enough not just for him but for the nation as a whole.

This may seem an unreasonable starting point for considering the Church of England’s position on divorce and the episcopate. Indeed, the mere mention of Hitler and divorce in the same breath surely falls foul of ‘Godwin’s Law of Nazi Analogies’, meaning that the argument is lost.

The point, however, is not just how difficult things were then, or how quickly they have changed since, but how different are the principles on which we now habitually operate.

One of the most depressing features of the recent debate in General Synod was the regular reference to ‘marital breakdown’ as acceptable grounds for divorce.

True, the Church of England does not take an ‘indissolubilist’ view of marriage. Moreover, there are many conservatives who would argue that the New Testament recognizes two circumstances in which remarriage of a Christian to someone else is allowed, namely after adultery has broken the marriage covenant (Matt 19:9) or after abandonment by a non-Christian spouse has rendered faithfulness unsustainable (1 Cor 7:15).

To this, we may add a third possibility, when divorce took place before the individual was a believer and therefore acted in ignorance of the gospel requirement and without the power of Christ to help them.

Nowhere, however, does the Bible indicate that ‘marriage breakdown’ is grounds for anything other than separation, to be followed if possible by reconciliation (1 Cor 7:10-11). Moreover, Paul’s explicit appeal in this regard to the Lord’s command recognizes both the challenge and the dominical authority of what is required. Who would propose such a thing had Christ not first said it?

And this is why the Church will find itself in an increasing difficulty on this issue. It is no consolation that the same standards will apply to candidates for the episcopate as now apply to potential deacons and priests (which Synod has agreed) if they are the wrong standards.

Of course, relationships break down — even (perhaps especially) within marriage. Seventy-five years ago, however, the King was expected to adhere to the practice of marriage as ‘a solemn, public and life-long covenant between a man and a woman’ (as our own bishops have described it), irregardless of personal desire. The distance we have travelled since then is not just in our expectation of the individual or the monarchy, but in our commitment to the principle.

Most important of all, therefore, is the need to recognize that this is not finally about divorce but marriage itself. As one speaker in the Synod debate pointed out, marriage is modelled on the relationship between the Redeemer God and his redeemed people — and who else could be better candidates for divorce? Thus God’s hatred of divorce is the counterpoint to his love for his people. And therefore an acceptance of divorce on the basis of ‘marriage breakdown’ is a fundamental departure from the very nature of marriage as modelled on a spiritual reality.

This is why we vow, “Til death us do part.” The Church which teaches otherwise, and embodies that teaching in the lives of its ministers, will soon find that it is not a Church at all. And since it would seem that canonical dispensation is already being applied ‘liberally’ (in every sense of the word), the worry must be that the Church’s ministry and witness will both be weakened by this latest development.

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Jeffrey John: now you see him ...?

According to the latest ‘scoop’ from the Daily Telegraph, Dr Jeffrey John has now been “blocked” from becoming the next Bishop of Southwark — a report which suggests either that the current sessions of the Crown Nominations Commission include their own ‘Deep Cantor’ or that someone is, to use the vernacular, ‘having a laugh’ feeding stories to the press.

In this regard, a couple of points need to be made.

First, I am not aware — though I am open to correction — that either the Commission or “senior Church figures” can ‘block’ the appointment of someone as a bishop, since this lies directly in the gift of the Crown.

It is worth remembering that the protocol regarding episcopal appointments, whereby the Commission puts forward preferred names for consideration, was brought into existence in 1976 on the personal initiative of the then-Prime Minister, Jim Callaghan. Prior to that, the final choice of bishops was made by the Prime Minister alone, acting on the advice of his Appointments Secretary. The background can be read in Colin Buchanan’s Cut the Connection, whilst the Church Times website carries from September 1960 an entire letter from David Stephens, the Appointments Secretary to Harold MacMillan, which gives a fascinating insight into how these things used to work.

The recommendations of the Nominations Commission are, therefore, just that, and it is strongly rumoured that past Prime Ministers (including — it is said — both Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair) have indeed rejected names that were put forward. By the same token (though it might now cause a constitutional crisis of its own), I imagine it is theoretically possible that the Prime Minister could revert to the old system and simply nominate a candidate of his own choice.

All this is simply by way of saying that speculation seems to be abounding not merely about names but about processes.

The second point is that the proceedings of the Commission are (supposedly) confidential. There is therefore no way of really knowing what has been said — if anything at all. Even if someone has been speaking to journalists, these stories presumably cannot reliably be cross-checked. There is no doubt that there has been considerable speculation. There is at least a chance that there has also been deliberate manipulation. The best policy from this point forward regarding specific names is doubtless a studied silence: “Hear a rumour, squash a rumour.”

What this does raise, however, is a serious question about how so-called ‘preferment’ operates in the Church of England. Wikipedia is not wrong when it describes the appointment of bishops as “a somewhat convoluted process, reflecting the church’s traditional tendency towards compromise and ad hoc solutions, traditional ambiguity between hierarchy and democracy, and traditional role as a semi-autonomous state church.”

As is often the case in the Church of England, it is also a process which maintains the appearance of quiet dignity whilst concealing the political shenanigans which are inevitably involved. Despite the election of some members of the Commission, disproportionate influence is repeatedly wielded by the same individuals, and whilst confidentiality is meant to avoid just the sort of brouhaha we have seen in the past few days, it means the final choice is somewhat foisted on dioceses, rather than being given their due consideration in advance.

One result is a stream of rather ‘clone-ish’ candidates. Given that Anglican clergy tend to have a similar personality type anyway, I am sure this is even more so for bishops. Even my wife (not given to ecclesio-political enthusiasm) burst out once, “Why are they all the same?”

Perhaps, given the choice, Southwark generally would have gone for Jeffrey John, and perhaps this would have been an unwise decision. Given the current state of the Church of England, however, I cannot say when it comes to the appointments process this is a case of “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” It would be a good outcome, in my view, if what all this actually led to was a review of the ‘appointers’, rather than the just ‘appointees’.

John P Richardson
8 July 2010

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What is 'the whole church'?

Yesterday I was at a meeting of the Church of England Evangelical Council which was addressed by, amongst others, two self-confessed evangelical bishops. Part of the purpose of the meeting was to seek better understanding over the rôle of bishops and to increase confidence between the evangelical constituency and the bishops themselves. What follows, therefore, is written in the spirit of trying to clarify and elucidate, rather than to ‘knock’.

In addressing the meeting, one of the bishops took pains to say early on that it had to be understood that he was a bishop to “the whole church”. This phrase is, I notice, also being used with reference to selecting and training candidates for the ordained ministry — it is emphasised that they have to see themselves as, and be equipped to be, ministers to the ‘whole church’.

It has to be said, however, that the hearts of many evangelicals sink precisely at this point, and that is because the concept of the ‘whole church’ can be understood in two quite different ways.

The phrase can simply mean ‘the church as it is, without favouritism’. And in this sense, it is fairly unexceptionable. The evangelical tradition clearly does embrace the ‘whole’ Church of England, and a bishop cannot, therefore, simply focus on evangelicals, even if he is one himself.

However, there is second sense in which the phrase may be used, which shades into the first, but which actually entails quite a different, and far more problematic, set of assumptions. And this is when it means ‘the church as it is, without distinction’.

In the first case, the Church of England is understood inclusively, embracing people of different styles, practices and even understandings, who are recognized as both Anglicans and Christians, despite their differences. However, that is not necessarily the same thing as may be implied in the second case, which could refer to the Church of England indiscriminately, as embracing people whatever their styles, practices and understandings.

As I have said, the two meanings are not entirely distinct. Nevertheless, behind them lie two quite different core assumptions about the meanings not only of the word ‘whole’ but the word ‘church’.

What, then, should we mean by ‘church’? Today there seems to be a lot of support for the idea that the ‘church’ is simply ‘the community of the baptized’ and that, furthermore, it is to be identified by people gathering together at the Lord’s Table. This is often described in terms of being ‘inclusive’, but I would want to argue that it is better described as being ‘indiscriminate’ — and that in the dictionary sense of being ‘without careful judgement’.

It is here, however, that the Thirty-nine Articles come to our aid, for they in fact give us a definition of the ‘visible church’ — the church with which we actually have to deal, rather than any abstract or idealized ‘true’ church of ‘genuine’ believers. Article XIX defines the church as follows:

The visible Church of Christ is a congregation of faithful men, in the which the pure Word of God is preached and the sacraments be duly ministered according to Christ’s ordinance in all those things that of necessity are requisite to the same.

Notice, however, that although this deals with the ‘visible’, actual, church, it does not ignore the question of individual faith. On the contrary, the “visible Church” is “a congregation of faithful men”, or in Latin “coetus fidelium”.

Now it has rightly been observed (by Paul Avis amongst others) that coetus refers to something wider than the local, ‘parochial’, congregation. However, it would be quite wrong to limit its sense to the diocese, which Avis attempts to argue is the true ‘local church’. Rather, we should take it as meaning a ‘community’, in the biblical sense of the ‘congregation of Israel’ (cf Ex 16:10, Vulgate).

An equally suitable translation of the phrase would then be “a community of the faithful”. However, this also means that the visible Church is not simply a gathering of the baptized. If that were so, we could (theoretically) go round our parishes gathering together a selection of those who were baptized as infants and have never darkened the doorstep of the church since, and say, “See, here is the visible church.”

The clear implication of Article XIX, however, is that the church is visible where there is something to see — and this is brought out further by the references to “the pure Word of God” and to “the sacraments ... duly ministered according to Christ’s ordinance”. And this visibility is indeed manifested in the local (parochial) congregation, for that (rather than in diocesan or larger gatherings) is actually where people assemble and where the word is preached and where the sacraments are administered. But although no church (in either sense) is perfect, and many churches are quite imperfect, we may conclude that the church is increasingly visible to the extent that these conditions are met: that the sacraments are duly ministered, that the pure Word of God is preached and that we find a community of the faithful.

When a bishop refers to ministering to “the whole church”, then, this ought to take into account the faithfulness of the community, the quality of the preaching, and the manner of the administration of baptism and holy communion (as those sacraments “ordained of Christ our Lord in the Gospel”, Article XXV, whose ministering can therefore be “according to Christ’s ordinance”, Article XIX).

To the extent that faith, preaching and the proper ministration of the sacraments are missing, to that extent we can rightly say that there is no visible church — and perhaps no church at all — even if the building may be full, the choir outstanding and the clergy busy.

This is further underlined by Article XXVI, which notes that,

... in the visible Church the evil be ever mingled with the good, and sometime the evil have chief authority in the ministration of the word and sacraments ...

On the one hand, this recognizes precisely the point acknowledged above, that the ‘visible’ church is not the ‘perfect’ church, for that is both unattainable and unknowable in this world. However, it also affirms a point sometimes scarcely acknowledged when modern Anglicans consider the nature of the church, namely that the church is not just a mixture of styles and outlooks but of the good and the evil, which therefore calls for action.

Thus when a bishop speaks of ‘the whole church’, he must not only look for the visible signs of the church, but he must also, as an expression of his episcopal office, look to encourage the good and redress the evil, so that the church becomes progressively more visible.

None of this is to overlook or deny what Article XXVII says about baptism:

Baptism is not only a sign of profession and mark of difference whereby Christian men are discerned from other that be not christened, but is also a sign of regeneration or new birth, whereby, as by an instrument, they that receive baptism rightly are grafted into the Church ...

Baptism must be regarded as ‘instrumental’, in the sense of conferring what it speaks about of the promises and grace of God, otherwise it is merely an empty gesture. But baptism is ‘rightly’ received only by those who (if necessary, when they come of age), “renounce the devil and all his works, and constantly believe God's holy Word, and obediently keep his commandments”. In other words, baptism grafts into the ‘community of the faithful’ only those who receive by faith what baptism confers.

If it could be agreed between evangelical bishops and the evangelical constituency that ‘the whole church’ was a reference to a community where we could expect to see faithfulness in manner of life and in the preaching of God’s pure Word, then there would undoubtedly be greater confidence between the constituency and those from their number who are now on the episcopal bench.

John Richardson
9 June 2010

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Erroneous and Strange Bishops

A book I’m reading at the moment on ministry describes an important part of the minister’s job as being to preserve the ‘gold standard’ of doctrine in the local church. This is surely a very useful concept, and — encouragingly to me as an Anglican — it fits entirely with what is said in the Ordinal about the ministry of the priesthood.

I have often heard it remarked that it is the bishop’s job to “drive away from the Church all erroneous and strange doctrine” — usually when the topic of conversation is about how bishops have failed to do this. But I must admit that I have only recently noticed that the same duty is laid on priests at their ordination. They, too, are to “to banish and drive away from the Church all erroneous and strange doctrines contrary to God’s Word; and to use both public and private monitions and exhortations, as well to the sick as to the whole, within [their] Cures, as need shall require, and occasion shall be given.”

The point is, I believe, important, because the individual must be ordained priest before he can be ordained bishop. And it is at this earlier stage that he is made the ‘gatekeeper’ for the Church’s teaching — the only distinction being, as far as I can see, that the priest’s responsibility is for the local ‘cure’ (ie parish), whereas the bishop’s is for his diocese.

The priest, in other words, neither waits until he is a bishop before he is made responsible for the ‘gold standard’, nor does he derive the ‘gold standard’ from the bishop. Both the priest and bishop-to-be are (with minor variations) asked exactly the same question about Scripture and their attitude to it:

Are you persuaded that the holy Scriptures contain sufficiently all doctrine required of necessity for eternal salvation through faith in Jesus Christ? And are you determined out of the same holy Scriptures to instruct the people committed to your charge; and to teach or maintain nothing as required of necessity to eternal salvation, but that which you shall be persuaded may be concluded and proved by the same?

And then each is asked about how they will put that conviction into practice in their ministries. Of the priest:

Will you then give your faithful diligence always so to minister the Doctrine and Sacraments, and the Discipline of Christ, as the Lord hath commanded, and as this Church and Realm hath received the same, according to the Commandments of God; so that you may teach the people committed to your Cure and Charge with all diligence to keep and observe the same?

Of the bishop:

Will you then faithfully exercise yourself in the same holy Scriptures, and call upon God by prayer, for the true understanding of the same; so that you may be able by them to teach and exhort with wholesome Doctrine, and to withstand and convince the gainsayers?

And then each is asked whether he will “banish and drive away from the Church all erroneous and strange doctrines”. In both cases, however, the ‘gold standard’ is assayed by the Scriptures, with the priest administering the word and sacraments locally within his cure, whilst the bishop, within his diocese, is charged to “correct and punish, according to such authority as [he has] by God’s word and as to [him is] committed by the Ordinance of this Realm” such as be “unquiet, disobedient and criminious”.

The priest owes the bishop due obedience, but priest and bishop are engaged in a common task of teaching what Scripture requires for salvation and refuting error. The problem is what happens when the bishop is the one promoting the ‘erroneous and strange doctrines’.

Of course, the first question is who decides what is ‘erroneous and strange’. And here we have a serious difficulty, because the Church of England came of anything like a doctrinal ‘gold standard’ many years ago. Indeed, the Church of England is doctrinally rather like a country in which banks can not only print their own money but make their own choices about what such notes are actually worth!

Hitherto, the evangelical response to this has been to ignore the vagaries of episcopal beliefs, provided they were not too outrageous. The evangelicals got along without the bishops and, by and large, the bishops were tolerant of the evangelicals.

This mutual tolerance was partly because neither party immediately threatened the other’s existence, but it was also partly because there was, in reality, not much the evangelicals could do about it. The Church of England was an important part of the social fabric — part of the ‘institution’. Complaining, such as when David Jenkins was notoriously appointed Bishop of Durham, made no difference. In any case, so far had the Church departed from the gold standard of doctrine that a degree of unbelief was expected from a bishop. (I have genuinely had people commend a bishop’s appointment with the remark that, “He believes in the resurrection,” as if this were an outstanding attribute!)

The difficulties with this necessary acquiescence, however, are highlighted by the current controversy over sexuality. On the one hand, evangelicals are accused of ‘double standards’, or even homophobia — making more of the issue of sexuality than they have of matters like the incarnation or the Trinity (when it was popular to sit light to those).

And there is some justification for this accusation. When Jeffery John was forced to stand down as Bishop of Reading, the appointment of Stephen Cottrell as his successor was greeted with enthusiasm by evangelicals within the Diocese of Oxford. Yet John and Cottrell are both members of the liberal group, Affirming Catholicism, and a glance at the cover of this book (published in 1998) is a salutory warning that the two men may differ little in underlying theology. For what reason, then, was Cottrell welcomed in place of John, other than that he was not a homosexual?

Yet the issue of sexuality may turn out to have something of a ‘last straw’ effect, in that it highlights other grievances. For far too long, bishops have collectively acted as if the ‘hurly burly’ of establishing and maintaining doctrinal clarity were somehow beneath them.

I have sat in a meeting where an evangelical bishop referred to the “adolescent” behaviour of evangelical parish clergy in relation to the issues dividing the Church. By contrast, he pointed us to the example of the local administration at Church House, where people of competing views ‘got along together’. To him, this clearly represented theological and spiritual maturity — setting aside our differences in the interests of peaceful coexistence.

But of course at the point of delivery of the word and the sacraments, which is to say in the local parish, then, as indicated above, the work of ministry requires from the clergy exactly what the Ordinal actually requires from the bishop: “to teach and exhort with wholesome Doctrine, and to withstand and convince the gainsayers”. Doctrinal clarity is not some ‘party political game’ (as I have seen another evangelical bishop suggest), but the very means of rescuing Christ’s sheep and keeping them safe.

And so evangelical parish clergy face a problem. Typically, and sadly, the bishops of the Church of England seem to treat anything except the most rudimentary doctrines as beyond their interest or remit. They may (may) act if a priest openly denies the faith, but beyond that they do not seem much to care. Variety, for them, is the spice of the Church’s life. The clergy, by contrast, know that ‘sound doctrine’ is the very heartbeat of their ministry. Yet they often feel unsupported in this conviction by their bishops, and may even find themselves in a situation where a bishop is himself a cause of difficulty.

It is not enough in these circumstances to say that the first duty of the clergy is to obey their bishop. Quite simply, it is not! Obedience to the human authority of the bishop (what the Ordinal refers to as his “authority ... committed [to him] by the Ordinance of this Realm”) must be set within the context of the mutual obedience of bishop and priest to the authority both have “by God’s word”. It is tragic if, as a result of a departure from the ‘gold standard’ of doctrine, the priest must preach against, and resist, the bishop as a ‘gainsayer’. But it may at times be a tragic necessity.

John P Richardson
17 March 2010

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A spoonful of fudging helps the heresies go down

OK, I admit straight away, this isn’t really about ‘heresy’ in the full-on sense of ‘damnable religious errors’. Nor can I think of a word-play on ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’. But in the old sense of haeresis, meaning wrongful divisions in the body of Christ, I do think that we are currently facing ‘heresies’ caused by fudging the issues, and we will soon be facing more.

Let us go back, for a moment, to the decision to ordain women into the priesthood of the Church of England, taken in 1992 — or rather, let us go back to the ‘indecision’, for that is unarguably what it was.

When the Church of England put to Parliament (as it had to) the necessary legislation to allow women to be ordained as priests, it included in that legislation the option for parishes to reject their priestly ministry. Looking back on it, that was an extraordinary thing to do. Is there any other example of a law where people can choose not to have that law apply to them?

Moreover, the Church itself spoke about the introduction of women priests as being a ‘process of reception’. That is to say, it was not prepared to commit itself to saying that this was exactly right —rather the approach would be ‘suck it and see’.

Then, on top of all this, Synod introduced its own legislation, an ‘Act of Synod’, to provide episcopal ministry for those who would be discomfited by the association of their existing bishop with the theology and action of ordaining women.

Thus, from its inception, the ordination of women was a fudge: systematically, deliberately — and inevitably, for without such a fudge it would not have taken place when it did. If the General Synod had been told, “You must decided now, one way or the other”, it is certain that it would have decided to wait.

However, the fudge was in place. And what happened next was equally inevitable, but unforseen by many. First, the assurances contained in the legislation where deliberately, but covertly, disregarded. The Act of Synod had declared that a person’s views on women’s ordination would not count against them when it came to selection for the higher offices in the Church. Yet extraordinarily, after 1993 almost no opponent of women’s ordination was found to have the qualities necessary to become a bishop. Indeed, there were unsubstantiated rumours of potential candidates being given a ‘fireside chat’ to inform them that on this issue there was only one option —you were for, or you were out.

Secondly, however, it may be argued that the basis of the Synod’s decision affected the quality of the candidates for ministry. Specifically, (and unsurprisingly, given the nature of its debates) the Synod had not decided that ‘this was what the Bible said ought to happen’. Rather, it had fudged the theological basis by failing to settle the biblical issue. Unsurprisingly, those women drawn to ordination to the priesthood tended to be those less committed to biblical precision, whilst those women drawn to full-time ministry, but of precise views, tended to avoid ordination to the priesthood.

What followed was inevitably an influx of women priests with generally ‘liberal’ theological views. And this had a further effect, for gradually the voting constituency for elections to Synods also shifted. The more that liberal women came in, the harder it was for conservatives to get elected. So, just as the Bench of Bishops was gradually being gerrymandered away from traditionalism, so the Houses of Clergy were being voted in the same direction.

Thus, contrary to the (palpably ludicrous) statement made in the 1970s, the theological objections to the ordination of women did not go away, but the objectors were increasingly marginalised. The Church was unequally divided, but the divisions would rapidly become more imbalanced.

Yet the objectors found it difficult to object! On paper, they were to be given equal treatment. Outwardly, the ‘period of reception’ would continue for as long as necessary. They had not been told they were wrong, only that they were a minority — but they were an honoured and welcome group, who would continue to be a valued ‘integrity’ within the Church of England. And most of them believed it. The Anglo-Catholics accepted the very considerable ‘bone’ of ‘Flying Bishops’. The Evangelicals were happy so long as they could get men ordained and accepted into parishes, and for the most part they thought the bishops were pretty laughable anyway. The Catholics fudged their attitude to Rome, the Evangelicals fudged their attitude to Anglicanism, the Liberals fudged their attitude to the Bible. Everyone was happy!

Now let us turn our attention to homosexuality, for back in the 1990s, the Church of England was also tackling this challenge. The definitive solution, however, was reached in 1991, when the House of Bishops produced a short statement titled Issues in Human Sexuality. With typical Anglican deftness, this managed to endorse the prevailing orthodoxy without actually insisting on it. The classic instance of this was the acceptance that the laity could engage in homosexual acts (since they were not bound to exemplify the church’s teaching) and that the clergy could argue for homosexual acts, but not engage in them (since the church’s teaching was binding on their behaviour but not their personal doctrine).

It was a small chunk of fudge, but enough to do the job.

Now let us fast-forward to 2005 and the introduction in the UK of civil partnerships. This was itself a classic fudge, being basically a government ‘cover’ for gay marriages in all but name. However, there was enough compromise involved in the legislation to allow Anglican bishops in the House of Lords to speak in favour of the development on the basis of ‘justice’ (but against broadening their provisions to include siblings or lifelong, opposite-sex, friends).

But what were the bishops to do about partnered clergy? The answer, given in another statement, was to allow for them, on the basis that, according to Issues in Human Sexuality, such relationships need not breach the church’s teaching on sex outside marriage:

The House of Bishops does not regard entering into a civil partnership as intrinsically incompatible with holy orders, provided the person concerned is willing to give assurances to his or her bishop that the relationship is consistent with the standards for the clergy set out in Issues in Human Sexuality. The wording of the Act means that civil partnerships will be likely to include some whose relationships are faithful to the declared position of the Church on sexual relationships (see paragraphs 2-7). [Civil Partnerships- A pastoral statement from the House of Bishops of the Church of England, para 19]

Notice, however, the caution in the first sentence of the above paragraph, that clergy in such partnerships should be “willing to give assurances” about their behaviour to their bishop. This was emphasised two paragraphs later:

... Partnerships will be widely seen as being predominantly between gay and lesbian people in sexually active relationships. Members of the clergy and candidates for ordination who decide to enter into partnerships must therefore expect to be asked for assurances that their relationship will be consistent with the teaching set out in Issues in Human Sexuality. [Ibid, para 21]

Notice, again, what is said: civil partnered clergy or ordination candidates “must ... expect to be asked for assurances” about the sexual nature of their relationship.

Notice also, however, what is not said. It does not say that the responsible bishop must actually seek such assurances, only that partnered clergy should “expect to be asked” for them. In fact, such assurances are certainly not sought by bishops in every case. Yet taken with paragraph 19, the implication is that it is the bishop, and not other potentially interested parties, such as churchwardens, parish representatives or neighbouring clergy, who is entitled to these assurances. Hence, although bishops are not always seeking these assurances themselves, they are unwilling to allow others to seek them, even though, as paragraph 21 says, the public perception of such relationships is that they will be sexually active.

Hence we have more fudge, and its divisive effects continue to spread. Thus the General Synod of the Church of England recently voted to approve pension rights to the civil partners of clergy, though not to their other dependents or supporters. The ‘marital’ status of civil partnerships thus seems to be reaffirmed. But on the basis of justice and morality it is hard to deny at least what was granted (even though one may have reservations about what was not), since all clergy in civil partnerships are supposed to be celibate and to be ready and willing to assure their bishops that this is the case, should they be asked. The assumption is breathtaking, though be careful you don’t choke on your fudge!

Meanwhile, on the ground the facts will establish themselves. Civil partnered clergy will become accepted, and the failure of bishops to establish, clearly and publicly, the nature of their relationships will pass unchallenged. But at the same time, the discomfort of those who hold to the traditional view will increase, for there will be no assurance, and no way of being assured, that the morality which the bishops have declared to be biblical (see their further and much larger document confusingly titled Some Issues in Human Sexuality, issued in 2003) is actually being maintained by those they see in civil partnerships.

The Church of England has, in the past, acted as if compromise were the ‘genius’ of Anglicanism. History, I suspect, will show the opposite — that far from being its genius, it was the agent of its downfall. And why should we be surprised? If the devil is the Father of Lies, then the half truth is surely his own offspring.

Revd John P Richardson
17 February 2010

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Which of our bishops are guarding the gates?

Back in the mid-1980s, I was at St Helen’s Bishopsgate for the Evangelical Ministry Assembly at which the Revd Phillip Jensen gave a rollicking series of talks on ‘A Ministry that Changes the Church’.

Certainly these talks changed me, for they restored my lost confidence in parish ministry. However, there was one thing in what he said which has, I think, been very unhelpful for the church in this country, and that was his memorable use of the phrase, “Bishops are deacons and priests are bishops.”

It is not the second part of this phrase that bothers me. There is a widespread acknowledgement, going back to Archbishop Cranmer and beyond, that the ‘presbuteroi’ (for which read ‘priests’) of the New Testament church can be identified with the ‘episkopoi’ of the same (for which read ‘bishops’). And in a world where priests are being expected to become ‘managers’ of groups of parishes, their office is (or ought to be) becoming more consciously ‘episcopal’.

No, the problem lies in the first statement: “Bishops are deacons”, which Phillip argued on the basis that they spend most of their time on ‘admin’, like a deacon, and almost none on preaching, teaching and evangelism, which is the ‘front line’ work of the church (as, I would suggest, the Apostles understood things in Acts 6).

Understandably, the line played very well to a Conservative Evangelical audience. It was what we wanted to hear, and it was true to our experience. Nevertheless, I believe it has left a dangerous legacy, not least because it is so memorable. Thus I continue to hear the same view asserted in the same circles, yet I look around the world —indeed, I look at Sydney itself —and I see remarkable things happening where there is effective episcopal leadership.

Virtually all of these examples come from overseas, I am sorry to say. But there is one area even in England where the work of a bishop is unique and powerful in its effects, and that is in being the gatekeeper for the church’s ministry. It is the bishops who, in the Church of England, are those who, as Article XXIII carefully puts it, “have public authority given unto them in the congregation to call and send ministers into the Lord’s vineyard.”

It is therefore the bishops’ responsibility to make sure that these ministers are suitable for the job. At their ordination as priests, the bishop is to ask the archdeacon, presenting the candidates, whether they have been examined as to the soundness of their learning and the godliness of their manner of life —and the archdeacon is to answer in the affirmative!

The question that must be asked, however, is whether this is happening — or to put it another way, whether the necessary questions are being asked.

This is very important when we consider the way ahead for the Church of England at this present time. Since October, it is certain that it will lose some of its most ardent traditionalist Anglo-Catholics. Meanwhile, the ‘evangelicals’ are so divided amongst themselves that the word has ceased to have much use. (I have heard just recently that one evangelical patronage society is now requiring candidates to affirm explicitly that they will teach the traditional view of human sexuality, having been caught out on more than one occasion by appointees who subsequently did not.)

Meanwhile, it is also certain that at some stage in the near future the church will have women bishops, and although this is supported by some within even the traditionalist evangelical camp, it is strongly advocated by the liberals, from whose ranks many of the women bishops will undoubtedly be drawn.

In the face of this, I have been advocating that traditionalists should orientate not around a redefined evangelicalism or a renewed catholicism, but around a reasserted Anglicanism, which takes full advantage of the ‘privileging’ in the Canons and in law of the doctrines of Scripture expressed in the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, the Book of Common Prayer and the Ordinal. (This is not, incidentally, to ignore the teachings of the ancient Fathers and the Councils of the Church, to which reference is also made in Canon A5. But those sources are complex and require a considerable breadth of reading, as well as discernment as to what is, indeed, a teaching agreeable to the scriptures, whereas the Articles, Prayer Book and Ordinal are succinct and readily available, not least in many of our parish churches. It is, moreover, the Articles, Prayer Book and Ordinal which give the Church of England its uniqueness, through those things which, as the Prayer Book itself says, apply “to our own people only”.)

This strategy, however, admits of a certain risk. It would involved, for example, acknowledging that as per the spirit of Article XXXVI, those women who are ordained as deacons and priests or consecrated as bishops are to be deemed “rightly, orderly, and lawfully consecrated or ordered.”

The ‘trade off’ is that all the Church’s deacons, priests and bishops abide by the spirit and letter of Canon A5. And if their knowledge of the fathers and the councils is not all it might be, they at least be committed to the positions on the teachings of Scripture expressed in the Articles, Prayer Book and Ordinal.

For that to happen, however, questions must be asked, and satisfactory answers must be given according to this standard. And this is where the bishops come in —or ought to, for I am left wondering just who is taking on this responsibility.

Personally, I have never, ever, been examined as to what I believe by any bishop. Nor is it clear to me what standards, if any, our bishops apply via their supervision of theological education, other than a broad-brush belief in ‘God and Jesus’. Certainly when one looks at the teaching programmes of the various colleges and courses, both for clergy and for laity, the one thing that becomes clear is that nothing is clear when it comes to what the Church of England expects people to believe.

If the bishops are acting as the gatekeepers, it seems that the gate is very wide and the path very broad that leads to Anglican orders.

When I look at the Church of England today, I am reminded of the classic line by Walter Sobchak in The Big Lebowski: “Smokey, this is not ’Nam. This is bowling. There are rules.” The trouble is, the rules are being freely ignored on all sides. The catholics, and to some extent the evangelicals, ignore the liturgical rules; the evangelicals want to, and in some cases do, ignore the boundary rules; the liberals ignore the doctrinal rules. And the inevitable result is that what finally matters is power, and the power to enforce the rules upheld by those in power.

Thus we have a situation where many who are liberal in their convictions nevertheless want bishops to be thoroughly ‘catholic’ in their orders, appealing to the church Fathers regarding the nature and function of episcopacy, but entirely ignoring the Fathers when it comes to what bishops should believe, or require of their clergy that they should believe.

If there is to be some regaining of Anglican coherence, there needs to be some quid pro quo on those things which Anglicanism says defines Anglicanism. This does not need to be a rigid ‘work to rule’ approach. Indeed, those with any memory of this particular concept know that it was used precisely to stop any work being done. There needs to be a recognition of the difference between ‘core’ concepts and ‘peripheral’ matters —something which cannot be left to the lawyers. The problem is that, in terms of present discipline, it is the peripherals (namely ‘administrative’ rules) which are often treated as ‘core’ what should be at the core (namely faith and morals) which is treated as peripheral.

Addressing this is the challenge which I would argue faces the Church of England generally, and the ‘traditionalists’ within it particularly, since we are the ones who have lost most, and who have most further to lose, under the present arrangements.

Meanwhile, I would be interested to hear from contributors of their experiences of episcopal ‘gatekeeping’, where they themselves have been required to give an account of their beliefs to their bishop, and to show that they are abiding in doctrinal orthodoxy within the boundaries established by the Anglican formularies. Feel free to name names that should be on the episcopal wall of fame!

John Richardson
17 November 2009

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What the ...?

I was just reading Tim Goodbody's apologia pro vita sua, "Why I am still an Anglican" on the Fulcrum website when I was pulled up short by this bit:

I am a Canon A5 evangelical, which means I took my ordination vows very seriously; when I was ordained I had to prostrate myself before a bishop; I felt very uncomfortable about this, but when my friend (also an evangelical) standing next to me on the platform said “I will do whatever it takes to follow my vocation”, I saw her point and assented to the ritual. I was glad I did because at that point (during the singing of the Veni Creator) the Holy Spirit came upon me (indeed us) in an immensely powerful way.

I'm not sure which bit of this has my gob most smacked as it were: prostration before a bishop? had to? also an evangelical? whatever it takes to follow my vocation? the Holy Spirit came on us (implicitly because)?

The only bit I felt comfortable about was the bit that said, "I felt very uncomfortable about this."

I do not post at Fulcrum -and it might fairly be asked why I read (probably for the same reason that some people read this blog) -but I offer it to other readers for their consideration.

I am stunned - and I didn't think I could be by anything that still went on in the Church of England.

John Richardson
10 June 2009

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