2nd December 2007
Dear Andrew
Very many thanks for yours dated 6th November, and for your good wishes on my installation as Canon (a wonderful event!) When I was training for ordination we were taught something about group dynamics, and one model of interaction offered to us was the “Forming, Norming, Storming and Performing” approach in which successful groups often unconsciously engage. I think it can be applied to one-to-one situations too, and thanks to your generosity of response I’m hopeful we can move into a “performing” stage in this correspondence.
I was very interested in your idea that we might be living in parallel universes. I’m not sure that we are, otherwise we could hardly communicate, but I do think we are looking at the whole situation and the questions related thereto from very different angles - not, I think, diametrically opposed but certainly at different points of the compass. I’m reminded of a conversation I had with the present Bishop of Southwark, who, having been seen as a bit of a liberal in his previous Diocese, was surprised to find himself seen as rather a conservative in this one! Similarly, what you intended to be read as an acknowledgement that “JSC processes were nowhere near as flawed as some were claiming” came across to me as very much an identification of the flaws in the process, and I’m glad that you have clarified that.
In terms of the history of the Communion, again, I think we’re not in parallel universes, but I was trying to make the point that the last ten years can be viewed in very different ways – as so often, I was trying to say, we interpret history in the way which most reflects our understanding of the present.
That doesn’t mean, I hope, that we spin off into a postmodern inability to find common ground, and I’m glad that you moved on to the specific questions about human sexuality and relationships. I’m particularly glad because although I take your point about the political questions, neither you nor I are in a position to influence events very much. But the Communion is in the situation it’s in because there has been a radical breakdown in communication, as a result of a number of events including Lambeth 1.10 and the consecration of Gene Robinson. So the “spirit of enmity”, which Jenny Te Paa powerfully identified at Drenched in Grace, does seem to be tightening its grip on the Communion in a way which I think it’s important to name and to acknowledge so that we can try to remove its power.
The Archbishop of Canterbury talks about “facts on the ground” which we have to acknowledge even though they make dialogue difficult, and two of those are the consecration of Gene and Lambeth 1.10. Neither are going to go away. But I wonder if, responding to your invitation to return to the substantive issue, that it might be helpful to do a little “living as if” and imagine that you and I are having this conversation on Neptune, beyond the reach of Communion politics.
I very much appreciated your (not especially blunt!) answers to my questions, and your clarification of your present position. We bring our assumptions and I am certainly guilty of wanting a high degree of clarity in discussions, partly because I have perhaps ascribed to you views which don’t do you justice but which are frequently expressed by others in these debates!
I think, in that context, the quotation from Oliver O’Donovan is fascinating. As I think I said in an earlier letter, I thought his “Good news for Gay People” piece was very powerful, partly because it ended with a further plea for serious theological work to be done in this area. If I dare to paraphrase your quotation, I think he’s saying that the “faithful homosexual Christian” (meaning, I think, a non-celibate faithful homosexual Christian) is in a position where the Church, because of a consensus reading of scripture and tradition, cannot have a “ceremonial endorsement”. She is in a grey area where the church can (even though it doesn’t always!) respect her integrity and recognise the seriousness of her stance, but it is not in a position to grant the same recognition to her relationship that it can to married couples.
This, I think, bears comparison to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s view (if I understand it rightly) that the consecration of Gene Robinson, whatever the rights and wrongs of that consecration, was carried out before the Communion was ready to confer the legitimacy of episcopacy on a non-celibate faithful homosexual Christian. In other words, the institution of the church isn’t ready to confer its blessing on individual Christians even though it might be able to respect their conscientiously held positions.
I hope I’m right in interpreting what you and he say because I think it gives real ground for engagement. Of the four questions you ask, I’d like to set three aside – the ones about the views of the rest of the Communion on same-sex blessings, the consecration of Gene and the “TEC experiment” because, as I said, we’re now on Neptune. But the third question:
“Must I do this despite the fact that the moral disciplines of these relationships of love between people of the same gender have never been clearly stated and agreed even within those local churches taking this path?”
returns a strong echo to my desire throughout this correspondence to try to engage with you in the task of beginning to try to define exactly what the moral disciplines of these relationships of love might be. It’s absolutely the heart of the church’s task, in this area, I think, to try to develop an ethic of relationship which is appropriate and supportive for people outside marriage as well as within, for people seeking long-term commitment as well as those within it.
I do want to say, too, that I think there is also a vast amount of work to be done on the status given to marriage in some traditions. It feels, at times, as though marriage has been exalted above almost everything else as a criterion for membership of the church, which doesn’t fit at all comfortably with what we know of Jesus or of his disciples! I’ve recently read two books which very powerfully challenge the present place of marriage in (particularly evangelical) theology on the basis of New Testament scholarship – “Jesus’ Family Values” by Deirdre Good and “Sex and the Single Savior” by Dale Martin - but what they’re saying is hardly new.
The Ephesian moment, when the church in Ephesus was presented with its challenge, was about finding an answer to the question – what do we do when cultures collide? The Ephesians learnt from each other, and moved into a new place. The question is, can we?
I liked your categorisations in last month’s Fulcrum newsletter, of those whose position on these matters varies from “rejectionists” on the hard conservative end of the spectrum through “reasserters” to “reassessors” and “reinterpreters” on the more inclusive end. Perhaps you would identify yourself as a “reasserter” - I certainly would put myself somewhere between a reassessor and a reinterpreter because, while I believe passionately that the inclusion of lesbian and gay people at all levels of the church is a matter of God’s justice for us and vital for the health of the church, I believe that we should do our very best to engage those with whom we disagree at the profoundest levels so that, with hope, the church can move together on this. Or find a way to live generously together which acknowledges difference without walking apart. I’m not sure where that puts me on your ecclesiological spectrum.
But my goodness, it’s difficult. I’m quite sure that one of the reasons this debate is so toxic is because it contains within it issues of power and patriarchy, identity and otherness, scriptural interpretation and conceptions of God which are all very close to the heart of the faith each of us has. I’m sure that for some people, rejecting LGBT practice is the last possible stand against the onward march of a godless modernity, while for others welcoming lesbian and gay people is the vital move which the church must make if it is to have a future. Hmmmm. And behind it all is the huge question of sexuality, which the church has hardly begun to address in any way which is at all meaningful. I realised at the Drenched in Grace conference (which was very successful and a remarkable meeting, yes, thanks) that there is a big gulf of understanding on questions of sexuality even between “inclusive” people, let alone between those who take such different views on the questions we’re addressing.
Tradition and the consensus of church history certainly plays a large part in the debate. But I have to say that I think that appeals to tradition and consensus are of only limited usefulness. Even if the majority of Christians think something, that certainly doesn’t automatically make it right. It’s been often repeated but remains true that most Christians supported slavery and justified it biblically until the early nineteenth century; that most Christians opposed the full inclusion of women and justified it biblically until towards the end of the twentieth century (and possibly the majority still does); and that Martin Luther when he nailed his Theses to the door of Wittenberg Church was not acting with the support of the majority or in accordance with church tradition! I’m sure that we would both agree that the ending of slavery, the ordination of women and the Reformation were Good Things - so while I accept that tradition and consensus has a place, I certainly think it’s very secondary in issues such as this and has to be treated with great caution. The majority, after all, in this country are in favour of capital punishment but that doesn’t make it right.
A danger is that we become binary on this, with one side saying “we must move” and the other side saying “we will not be moved.” Result, misery.
There is another possibility. The reason I keep requesting time on this, and asking that the Lambeth Conference be a real conference where people come together with all their questions and their concerns rather than a theatre for political point-scoring, is because I think we all have to go, very humbly, back to the Bible and back to the tradition. We have to ask, somehow, whether our understandings of what we are hearing from Scripture about relationships and sexuality are right, or whether we are reading Scripture from a position where it is being used to justify our own positions. And then we have to look at the tradition and see if it is really as monolithic as we think it is; or whether, in fact, throughout history attitudes towards relationships and sexuality have been much more complicated than we in the West with our idealisation of the nuclear family are willing to acknowledge. And finally we have to use the fullest reach of our reason to understand what it is we are dealing with – what human sexuality is, how it impacts on our personhood and our relationships, and how it affects and is impacted by our faith. Scripture, reason and tradition.
Being honest with you, Andrew, I have to say that our correspondence, together with my other involvements in the church beyond the parish, has enabled me to understand these questions very differently – not that I have changed my mind on the need for full inclusion, but that I understand more clearly some of the reasons why others find it so unacceptable. Clearly, and beyond doubt, there is great homophobia and great fear around, and a sense for some that “their” church is being taken away. That’s not something with which I have great sympathy; we are all called to change and be challenged, and homophobia is no more acceptable than racism or sexism. But genuine perplexity over these issues and a sense that the church is not ready is something which I can understand even if I find it deeply frustrating.
So, hesitantly, I suggest that we could next spend some time investigating scripture, going beyond the immediate references to same-sex relationships and trying to work out what scripture as a whole is saying. I’m not, I hasten to say, a biblical scholar, but I am writing a book on these matters so I really should be able to put forward a coherent position!
To finish, though, I want to reaffirm that none of this would matter at all were it not for the absolutely vital part of both our callings – which is to care for and to build up the People of God. None of this would have any meaning for me were it not to grow out of my parish, the place in which I am rooted and which I serve. In the end, it is (after God) from the parish that I get my inspiration. And I am completely convinced that it is the breadth and the depth of our congregation, from traditional Nigerians to very openly partnered gay men, from single vulnerable women to confident senior academics, which enables the Spirit to move with such quiet but undeniable power in this place. That’s why I won’t let go; because I owe it to my congregation to try to make the Church of England a place in which it is safe for them to thrive.
As ever
Giles
