Asking the trick questions

This is the gist of my sermon this morning on Mark 10:2-16.

Some Pharisees came: and to test Jesus they asked him: is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?

I've been fielding quite a few press enquiries over the last couple of weeks, about the appointment of a new Archbishop of Canterbury, and some of the things that the press keep asking about the various candidates is  'where does he stand on gay marriage?' or 'does he support the ordination of women?'.

Reading Mark 10 for today's sermon, as I read that first test question, time seemed to compress. People don't change much, do they?  We seem to have an inbuilt desire - part of what the medieval theologians described as original sin - to classify people. And so we ask some key questions, of bishops, of politicians, of people we meet at parties (more subtly). And we assume that the answers to those questions will tell us whether the person is on our side or not. Are they right or wrong, good or bad, in or out, acceptable or unacceptable, depending on their answers to a few key test questions.

The actual questions change over time and between contexts. In modern American politics, abortion is a key one. And indeed we seem to be heading that way here. In church circles, gay marriage is rapidly overtaking the ordination of women as the killer question.

In Jesus case the gospels record four test questions put to him. There is this one about divorce, and then a set of three test questions put to Jesus by different interest groups on another occasion: should we pay tax to the emperor? If seven brothers all marry the same woman in turn, as each dies in turn, whose wife would she be at the resurrection? And which is the greatest commandment?

These questions were put to test or to trap Jesus. The questions were obviously designed to have no safe answer. They test specific points of Jewish and Roman law, or the Pharisees and the Saducees theological disagreements on points of theology, and to that extent don't translate well into our own time and place.

But what is very striking about the test questions Jesus was asked, and the test questions that people are faced with in our own time, is how much they revolve around issues of sex and gender. Abortion, gay marriage, divorce, remarriage, how sexual relationships on earth will map onto relationships in heaven. We often hear how the church today is obsessed with issues of sex and gender, and perhaps it might give us some perverse comfort to know that there is nothing new in that. Questions of sex and gender seem to be particularly latched onto whenever human beings are looking for questions to ask to test who is in and who is out, questions asked specifically in order to condemn someone. Questions asked to police the limits of the group and the purity of a religion.

Another way in which time seems to compress between then and now in reading this passage is the way in which questions of sexual ethics and the way we treat children are brought together here. Now it may well be that in previous generations people might have been blind to the fact that these are linked, but we certainly can't make that particular mistake any more. Whether it is a 15 year old and her teacher running off to France together, the latest celebrity paedophilia scandal, or the systematic grooming and pimping of young girls in Rochdale, questions of sexual ethics and the appropriate boundaries and relationships  between adults and children  are everywhere.

 
.....
 
This reading is part of an extended section of teaching by Jesus in Marks gospel which broadly addresses issues of Christian discipleship. The section extends from mid way through chapter 8 to nearly the end of chapter ten, and both begins and ends with Jesus trying to explain to the disciples that he was going to be killed, and the implications of this. Much of the teaching in this section is teasing out the implications of Jesus own example for living a Christian life.

It isn't only the Pharisees who find this hard to take. Time and again in this section the disciples either can't take in what they are hearing, or react against it. Right at the beginning, in 8:32, when Jesus has just begun to teach the disciples about what will happen to him, Peter takes him aside and rebukes him, prompting Jesus into that startling command to 'get behind me, Satan!'. Further on in chapter 10, when Jesus has mostly finished his teaching for now and the disciples are on the road again, we are told they are both amazed and afraid. This is not easy stuff to take. It wasn't any easier for the first disciples than it is for us.

This particular section comes at the beginning of Chapter 10. It is part of a section of teaching that all happens in one place, framed by Jesus and his disciples travelling. The story opens in verse 1 with Jesus arriving in Judea and teaching the crowds as was his custom. Immediately, the Pharisees turn up with their trick question about divorce. Jesus answers that, and then we have the incident with people bringing their children to him for a blessing. He is about to head off after that, when a young man runs up to him to ask how he could inherit eternal life. The incident ends with the saying that it is harder for the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.

This is the context in which those who are following Jesus are bemused and afraid. We can imagine that those who are not following him are even more confused, and when even his own followers are scared, it is less surprising that the Pharisees are out to get him.

The key theme of this episode is perfection. How do we achieve perfection, what sort of perfection does God demand of us. And I think the key to it is the central passage, the point at which Jesus takes that child and tells his disciples that unless they enter the kingdom like a child, they won't enter it at all.

Children in those days were the lowest of the low. They had no status, no rights. Under Roman law, a father had the right of life and death over his children. We might agonise about smacking children, but then a father could legally kill his child. Children had less legal protection than slaves, less than women.

But Jesus tells his disciples not just to let children take up his time and energy, but to become like them. In the context of this whole section, we have quite a dramatic structure here. The Pharisees ask about legal perfection regarding divorce and Jesus sets them a breathtakingly high standard. The young rich man, keen as mustard, asks how he can be saved, and told to obey the law he eagerly asserts that he has kept every word. Jesus looks at him, loves him, and says 'Well, if you want to be perfect, sell all you have and give it to the poor'. That's what terrifies the disciples . Who then can be saved? They ask, and Jesus replies 'for people it is impossible, but nothing is impossible with God.'

The pivot of this whole section is that small scene with the children. The desperate parents are thrusting them towards the celebrity preacher, hoping for some stardust to rub off, some blessing to be catching. And Jesus not only gives them what they want, but insists that the children are the role model for Christian discipleship.

The Pharisees are desperate for legal perfection. The rich young man is desperate for moral perfection. Both want to know that they are doing the right thing.And the vignette of Jesus and the children acts as the pivot, the hinge, between these two stories about seeking perfection, seeking assurance that we are in not out, wanting to know that we are doing the right thing.

It seems to me that what Jesus says when he puts the small child forward needs to be understood in this context. Perfection, though a great thing, is not the point. Seeking after perfection, whether for our own moral satisfaction or as something to impose on others, gets in the way of a simple desire for an encounter with Jesus. The parents haven't understood what Jesus is saying, but in thrusting their children forward to Jesus they have understood more of the heart of his message than the legal experts and the deeply moral young man.

It is so tempting to ask the test questions. It is so tempting to seek to define others, not just because we want to know whether they are in or out, but because at an even deeper level we want assurances about our own righteousness. We want the answers our politicians, our bishops give us to reinforce our own sense of being right. We want our fears that we might be wrong to be authoritatively answered.

And Jesus is sympathetic to that desire. He doesn't give the Pharisees and the young man wispy washy answers suggesting that you can do what you like. He answers their questions on their terms, and the answers are terrifying. They are clearly meant to be terrifying, to set a ridiculously high standard, to expose the absurdity of attempts to be perfect. A few moments later, when the disciples are astounded by the parable of the camel and the needle they ask 'who then can be saved?', and Jesus says it is impossible for us to be saved by our own efforts; but all things are possible for God.

But before that, he has shown them rather than told them what he means, with this encounter with the children. It is a vivid demonstration of his point that ultimately, our call to perfection is a distraction from what is simply a call to come. Our call to morality is secondary to our call to simply encounter Jesus. Our acceptability to God lies simply in our being prepared to come and meet God, just as we are.

The Essential History of Christianity: Christological Pluralism?

I've just received the first pre-publication copy of my new book, 'The Essential History of Christianity'. It summarises the key developments in christian history in under 150 pages, and doing so nearly killed me! I hope it is useful, and (naturally) highly recommend it to anyone starting theology or history courses, and as a Christmas present for everyone you know!

But the more I read it - and I've had to re-read it several times over the past few months, as copy editing and proof stages passed - the more I think that this paragraph from the introduction is  key:

'The history of Christianity can seem a dauntingly large one. It covers 2000 years – more, if its roots and Judaic pre-history are to be adequately accounted for. It covers virtually every corner of the world, and not simply sequentially but in a complex and overlapping sequence of movements, retreats and conflicts. And, as it has been received into different cultures and periods, it has been defracted – like a rainbow in a prism – into a dazzling spectrum of different shades. As a result, there is never a time at which we can point to one, monolithic grouping and say ‘look – there is Christianity as it originally was; now let’s see what happened to it’. Right from the beginning, the movements inspired by Jesus were disparate in geography, outlook, cultural and religious background, social class and nationality. Theological differences in emphasis and in substance were the inevitable result. This seems to have been a logical result of a religion which began, so its adherents believe, with the incarnation (literally, the ‘en-fleshing’) of God in one particular time and place. This is a religion whose main doctrine has never – contrary to much popular opinion – been contained between the covers of a book, but in the lived experience of a human, historical person. It follows logically and inevitably that there is no one ‘correct’ form of Christianity, but as many different relationships to that person as there are people in relationship with him.'

I wonder whether this perspective offers a hint towards a way forward in the seemingly intractable disputes between 'evangelicals' and 'liberals' in the church today? My 'liberalism' is not based on the philosophical liberalism of the nineteenth century. In fact, the more I read about that, the more I feel that 'liberalism', with those connotations, is a bad discriptor of my position - though I like the associations of freedom and generosity, so will be sorry to say goodbye to the word. But my 'liberalism' is fundamentally Christocentric. I am a liberal because I am a Christian, not one despite the other. And that passage - which I found the easiest to write in the whole book - sums up why. 

So I wonder if we need a new term, a new label? I wondered about 'Christocentric liberalism', but I fear that the word liberal may be so tarred with old brushes that it is better abandoned. So how about 'Christocentric pluralism'? The belief that, precisely because  we believe in Jesus, we find that we must embrace a plurality of ways of approaching God, and must accept that we cannot prescribe one correct way of being a Christian? That precisely because  of the incarnation, we must accept the huge diversity of faith and lifestyle and personality that exists, even where we don't like it? 

And yes, that does mean accepting the existence of those who disagree with this approach! The line that there is 'nothing so illiberal as a liberal'  is rather tired, but it is true that this Christocentric pluralist approach requires an acceptance that the range of views represented in this diversity will include fundamentalism. It doesn't, though, mean we have to agree with fundamentalists or others - simply recognise that their views may well be formed by their own particular circumstances and relationship with Christ, and so are deserving of respect (that word again!).

In summary - that because we are Christians, defined by our unique relationship with the person of Jesus, we must recognise that others will inevitably have a different relationship with God. 

What do you think?

The Appleby Amendment

I was quoted by the Northern Echo this week as  having hailed the 'brilliance' of  Janet and John Appleby's amendment to the now-notorious Clause 5.1.c. That's not quite what I said, though I did use the word brilliance...(and to be fair, the Echo did also include an extended version of my remarks).

What I said was that the amendment wasn't really what either those of us most in favour of womens ordination, or most opposed to it, wanted. We all agreed some years ago that a single clause measure was preferable for clarity and theological coherence. However, there does appear to be a growing consensus that this current compromise will do for most people.

I've had several conversations with some of those who oppose women's ordination on principle. All have said that, though they probably won't feel able to endorse women's ordination by voting yes in November, this current compromise package would be acceptable to them assuming it goes through. In other words, they could live with it.

I've also had several conversations with some of the strongest advocates for women's equal ministry. Some of them, too, will struggle to vote for this, as the compromise package is such a major compromise from our original dream of a simple statement that men and women are both called and gifted by God. But most are saying that - though they feel bitterly frustrated and angry at being expected to make further compromises - they feel they could vote yes, if only because the whole sorry debacle has demonstrated clearly just how much the House of Bishops needs women members. In other words, we can live with it.

So why did I use the word 'brilliance'? I think the brilliance of the wording the Applebys have come up with lies in that word 'respect'. This cuts to the heart of the issue for most opponents, who fear that their position, and they, will not be treated with respect. And it allays some of our worst fears, because respect does not imply endorsement. I can respect your views, and you, without agreeing with you on something. I can act towards you and treat your views with respect without endorsing your views. And I can reasonably expect you to do the same with me and my views.

This legislation is not a perfect package by any means. It is still, in my view, theological nonsense to allow someone to choose their bishop based on whether they agree with them. The notion that ordaining a woman, or holding certain views on women's ordination, can impair someone's communion with their male bishop to the extent that they 'need' an alternative is anathema to me. But that is the legislation that the dioceses have accepted, and seems to be the best we can achieve in this generation. That is very sad.

Still, allowing myself a wistful sigh for what might have been, I think this legislation offers us the best hope for the future that is realistically achievable now. I will be very surprised if it doesn't go through in November.

Oddly, I feel little emotion at the prospect of it succeeding or failing. The legislation is too flawed for its passing to be cause for a great deal of joy. And if it fails, then I imagine a single clause measure will be what comes next: because if the compromise is rejected, what is the point of compromising?

I'll save my excitement for the consecration of the first woman as a bishop in the Church of England. I am confident that she and her colleagues will demonstrate that there was no need for all this fear and talk of legislative safeguards, because they will be truly brilliant.

Reflections on Mark 7

I was asked to preach today at Shotley St.John, in Northumberland, on the subject of women bishops and where we are now. The gospel reading was just so apposite....

Jesus said to his accusers, the religious elite of his day, 'Isaiah prophesied rightly about you, "in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrine". You abandon the commandment of God, and hold fast to human doctrine'.

This is an accusation any of us who engage in trying to get the church to change its mind about things are very familiar with. I am tediously familiar with being told that I am simply trying to get the church to do what the world says is right. That I am working for secular concepts of justice and equality rather than obeying the Bible. That the church shouldn't follow modern trends as they are just human precepts rather than true doctrine. That, in other words, by believing that women can be called by God to ordained ministry I am guilty of abandoning the commandment of God and holding to human values.

Such criticisms are made of any attempts to change the way the church does things, or what it believes. Historically, exactly the same sorts of things were said about allowing the remarriage of divorcees; allowing contraception; and so on. Whatever the particular issue at hand, such criticisms of religious change assume that things we have done for a long time are more likely to be right than new things. They assume that change equals corruption. And they are based on an assumption that the religious establishment - the Church, or Temple tradition - is more Godly than the secular world and must not be contaminated by it.

But what Jesus says here, of course, is almost precisely the opposite. In todays gospel reading, Human tradition and human precepts means religious traditions, religious rules, cultic ideals. Building on the long tradition of Old Testament prophets, Jesus directly opposes the idea that long established religious traditions and practices are necessarily good things, or what God wants.

The prophets repeatedly emphasised that God wants real change of hearts and minds, rather than correct worship. This real change would be demonstrated in lives lived according to the principles of justice, equality and mercy. The prophets are passionate about justice being a - perhaps the  - fundamental teaching. Even if women's ordination were simply about justice - and I think it is about far more than that - we could never say that that was opposed to the teaching of the Bible.

Jesus himself is of course the best example of dramatic change occurring within a religious tradition. The gospels show him repeatedly coming up against the religious establishment of his day, challenging their most cherished beliefs, practices and places. We get so used to thinking of the Pharisees as the bad guys that it is easy to forget how offended we would be by someone doing similar things today, in our churches. I imagine the outrage caused in Moscow's Orthodox cathedral by Pussy Riots punk prayer against President Putin was probably quite similar to the outrage Jesus would have caused over turning the money changers tables in the Temple.

One of the many interesting things about this passage is the principle that Jesus uses to critique the Pharisees' values. Twice, he refers them to God's commandments. 'you abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition; you have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your tradition!'

In modern religious argument, the whole Bible is sometimes meant when people talk about Gods commandments. But here, Jesus is very specifically referring to the 10 commandments. His particular point is that the Pharisees have developed a tradition of giving to the temple at the expense of looking after their elderly parents. They are breaking the commandment to honour your father and mother, in order to feel good about their own religiosity. Applying Jesus' technique more generally would suggest that a key question to ask of any tradition is whether it contradicts any of the 10 commandments.

And I would suggest that a tradition of male - only clergy, and of privileging men above women more generally, does exactly that.

The 10 commandments don't say anything explicitly about gender. That in itself is interesting. Except in the commandment not to covet your neighbours wife - where coveting their husband is not mentioned - all the commandments are quite remarkably gender-neutral. We are to honour our father and mother - no gender hierarchy is even hinted at there. All are to rest on the sabbath day, including our sons and daughters, and both male and female servants or slaves.

But perhaps the most relevant commandment is that forbidding the making of idols. Nothing shall be made into an idol for ourselves, we are told very firmly indeed. Yet I would argue that much, if not all, of the opposition to women as clergy and as bishops rests upon an unacknowledged idolisation of maleness. Historically, maleness has been given God-like status. God has been consistently imagined as being male, and by extension, men have been assumed to be more God-like than women. One writer put it very succinctly several decades ago when she came up with the phrase 'If God is male, the male is God'.

And the male ideal that is seen as being most God-like has generally been a particular kind of male - adult, not a child; strong and healthy, not weak or disabled or ill; heterosexual, not castrated, and at various points in history either celibate (showing strong mastery over his bodily urges), or married with children (demonstrating fertility and maturity). Not only have women traditionally been seen as further from God than such men, but men have been judged and graded in holiness against this particular ideal. As we are inspired by the Paralympics, it is worth reflecting on this - are Paralympics less godlike than 'unimpaired' human beings? Of course not. Yet for millennia, religious tradition would have said, Of course.

About 10 years ago I knew a young man in his early twenties, a friend of a friend, going through the process of selection to become a Roman Catholic priest. One month, he noticed a lump in a testicle, and luckily went to see his GP. Testicular cancer was quickly diagnosed, and the testicle swiftly removed. Fortunately, further tests showed that it had been caught in good time and had not spread. A week or so later, he had his next appointment with his mentor, and told him all this. As you can imagine, for a young man to face a diagnosis of cancer, and loose a testicle, within the space of a few weeks had been a pretty significant experience, and he wanted to talk it through. But his mentor, on hearing the story, had only one question - 'did they remove one testicle, or both? Because if you've been castrated you can't be ordained in the Catholic church.'

When we talk about women's ordination, and the consecration of women as bishops, people express all sorts of hopes and fears. Some hope that women will change everything, others that they will change nothing. But one thing that I think will be very significant is the simple symbolism of having both men and women sharing in all our ministries, symbolising very strongly that we believe that God made all humanity, male and female, in God's own image. Regardless of all the many gifts that women will bring to the House of Bishops, one of the most important things will be to challenge, simply by their presence, this idolisation of a particular type of adult maleness as more God like than other gender identity.

Response to GS Misc 1033

In the nick of time...here is my response to the consultation on the revision of Clause 5.1.c. 

(If that means nothing to you, don't read on!). 

Guiding Principles

1.    The purpose of the legislation is to open the episcopate to women on equal terms with men.

2.    A secondary purpose is to establish a Code of Practice to govern the implementation of this legislation, with particular reference to the fair treatment of those who dispute the validity of this as an appropriate theological development.

3.    Therefore, the legislation:

3.1  Must allow women bishops with no element of discrimination, against either them or male bishops who participate in their consecrations, or male clergy who are ordained or consecrated by them. In other words, there must be no ‘no go’ areas for women bishops, as otherwise the primary purpose of the legislation has not been fulfilled.

3.2  Similarly, there must be no separate track for male clergy who have not associated with women bishops. This is important because otherwise it is possible to anticipate women bishops being effectively sidelined by male colleagues who wish to maintain the widest field of career options open to them. Such unintended discriminatory consequences are well known to occur in related fields such as maternity rights, and again would mean that the primary purpose of the legislation was not being fulfilled.

3.3  Must not give the impression, either deliberately or inadvertently, that there are two alternative views about the validity of women’s ordination held simultaneously by the Church of England as a Church.  It will, however, of course recognise that individual members of the Church of England will continue to hold differing views about the validity of this development, in order to pursue its secondary purpose. But it must be clear that the Church of England as a church believes that women’s ordination is valid.

3.4  Must not seek to protect or promote the theological view, as such, that women’s ordination is unacceptable.

3.5  Must seek to assure all members and parishes of the Church of England that the Church is committed to their flourishing and to their growth, regardless of their views on this matter. It must do this without being seen to suggest that such growth is anticipated to come only through a change of heart on this matter.

4.    Whilst I understand the point being made in the documentation that saying this is not just about maleness is desirable to avoid the accusation of misogyny, I believe clarity is preferable to attempts at political correctness. If the opposition to women bishops is indeed not about gender, but about ecclesiology or orthodoxy, then the attempt to secure alternative bishops on that basis is little short of astonishing.

4.1 I can understand the logic – though I deplore the premise – of the argument that says that, if women can’t be ordained, then they are just pretending to be clergy and so their sacramental acts are worthless. If you believe that, then I can understand why you would want an alternative male line. But if the argument is instead that you want a bishop who agrees with you, then this is a theological innovation far greater than women clergy (who existed in the early church), and one that has not been subject to anything like the same amount of debate and scrutiny.

4.2 Historically and theologically, it is a basic principle of episcopal churches that the bishop is the focus of unity. This does not, and has never, meant that everyone agrees with them. Similarly, it does not and has never meant that the sort of person chosen to be a bishop should be someone everyone can accept. Rather, what is has always meant is that accepting the validity of the bishop is the acceptable minimum required of any member of the church.

4.3 The Act of Synod introduced a dangerous and unprecedented innovation, therefore, when it allowed those opposed to women’s ordination to choose alternative episcopal provision.

4.4 We seem to be in danger of assuming that, because the Act of Synod is extant, that is the status quo that this legislation should be protecting and extending. Nothing could be further from the truth.

4.5 Furthermore, this feels like a particular betrayal since the desirability or otherwise of the Act of Synod has not been debated in recent years precisely because we were told that this legislative process rendered such debate redundant. Diocesan synod motions calling for the rescinding of the Act of Synod have been ‘parked’ for several years pending this legislative process. It is therefore not acceptable for it to be taken as the basis for this legislation, without at least substantial independent debate.

Analysis of the Options presented in GS Misc 1033

1.    I do not accept that keeping Clause 5.1.c is a viable way forward. I think it would be very unlikely to attain the necessary support in November, for all the reasons rehearsed in advance of the July Synod. In particular, I refer you to the WATCH ‘Statement of Concerns’, which comprehensively sets out the many serious reservations held about this clause.

2.    I would prefer to see Clause 5.1.c deleted. However, I accept that, given the history of the last few months, this too might make achieving a 2/3 majority difficult. I also accept that this would be politically difficult for the bishops involved.

3.    I propose, therefore, that Clause 5.1.c. is replaced with alternative wording. However, I do not support any of the alternatives suggested, though I accept that several represent minor improvements on the original wording. Nevertheless, they all continue to focus on the issue of acceptable maleness in a way which, given the guiding principles with which I began, I cannot regard as helpful.

A positive proposal for a replacement Clause 5.1.c

1.    Ideally, we want to find wording that brings joy and trust back into the process for all parties.

2.    With that in mind, what are the main fears around? Conversations in synod on Monday afternoon, and of course speeches, suggest the main fear for both evangelical and catholic opponents of women’s ordination is of becoming marginalised and being expected to wither away. For evangelicals, the qualification of maleness is not really an issue (except in so far as this issue is being conflated with sexuality), but they appreciated the amendment somewhat because it gave some assurance of their viewpoint being regarded with some respect in the future. For catholics the qualification of maleness was more important, but the main underlying fear is the same - that they are being deliberately pushed out or will be marginalised.

3.    From a personal point of view, I need to confess that there is some truth in this. I would indeed like their view to wither away. Interestingly, though, when I really think, our underlying fear is exactly the same - that women (not just ordained women) will continue to be marginalised and oppressed by the legitimated continuation of a permanent question mark over the validity of our orders.

4.    Since fundamentally, therefore, we all fear the same thing, it seems possible that we could all be made joyful by wording that commits us all to the alleviation of that fear. That would mean all of us being prepared to give up our hope that the other would eventually be eliminated.

5.    Since this is about theology, though, we need to get away from speaking in the legislation of the rightness of the different views. They can't all be right, and it is nonsensical to protect in legislation views directly contradictory to those the legislation is enacting.

6.    However, we could shift the focus to the people concerned. Not in a patronising way promising to protect minorities: those who feel themselves to be the minority (which sometimes seems to be everyone in this debate!) would then rightly continue to feel afraid that the safe space demarcated for them might shrink in the future. But what if we turned this round, and committed ourselves to helping each other flourish and to co-operating? That is what everyone in the debate has been saying they want to achieve (well, mainly!), so why not address it head on? This might be the one thing that could put the joy back in the process for everyone - and potentially enjoy not just a 2/3 majority, but near- unanimity.

7.    Pragmatically, too, the key votes needed are not those of people who are convinced that women should not be ordained at any price, but those in the middle who believe women should be ordained but don't want to upset anyone. I think their greatest fear is of the guilt they would feel if they thought they had not behaved kindly to all. This could address that head on, too.

8.    On a more detailed note, I think point 6 above could be addressed by not trying to describe theological convictions (one of the problems with the proposed 5.1.c was the prospect of legal challenges of definition, on whether the specific grounds were being catered for sufficiently, and even the potential for the invention of new, spurious grounds in order to get the bishop desired!). If instead we speak simply of parishes whose PCCs have or have not signed letters of request then the legal question of definition is much simpler - there is just a matter of fact, not of opinion - and the issue of whether the views behind the letters are being legitimated is removed.

9.    With all that in mind, I propose that Clause 5.1.c be replaced with wording along the lines of that the Code must include arrangements:

'To promote the flourishing of, and foster co-operation between, parishes whose PCCs have, and have not, signed Letters of Request under clause 3 of this Measure'.

A minor point...

Whilst contemplatively painting a wall in my new vicarage this evening, I found myself musing on the women bishops malarkey over the last few months. The reaction I and others got from several bishops when we said the last minute amendments weren't OK, was along the lines of 'Trust us, we're the bishops - don't worry your pretty little head over it - you haven't understood'. But over all was a sense that really, we should just accept what the bishops come up with because - well, because they are the bishops.

What has only just occurred to me clearly is: why aren't they saying that to those who oppose women's ordination? Why aren't the bishops saying to Forward in Faith, or to Reform, 'look, we're the bishops, live with the decision we make'? Why are women told to stop causing trouble with their strong opinions, while the bishops bend over backwards to placate and accommodate men with strong opinions?

Just asking....

Sacramental Assurance and Risk Taking

One of the recurring themes of the opposition to women's ordination is the element of doubt versus assurance. The arguments vary, but a common theme is that it is unclear whether women should (or can) really be ordained, and so it is unclear whether, when an ordained woman is functioning as a priest or bishop, anything is actually happening. So the elements at Holy Communion might not really become Christ's body and blood if the service is presided over by a woman. A priest might not be really ordained if the ordination is done by a woman. God has promised the church that he will work through the sacraments, and our confidence in our salvation is rooted in that promise. So why mess about with it? The point is not that women definitely can't be ordained, but that it is uncertain. And why would we introduce an unnecessary element of uncertainty?  

Proponents of women's ordination, myself included, have usually responded to this sort of argument by simply ridiculing the idea that women can't be ordained. My own response has been mainly along the lines that I don't think there is a fundamental distinction between men and women in relation to God, and so a false category distinction is being imposed (male and female he created them, Galatians,etc: see previous blog posts!).

But the more I think about it, the more I wonder whether an equally fundamental issue is with the very concept of assurance itself.

A second recurring theme I've been hearing recently is one of risk taking, 'ministerial entrepreneurship' in one inelegant phrase. The parish profile for my new job asked, among other things, for 'a prayerful risk taker'. My unscientific sampling of various job adverts and parish profiles suggests that this sort of language is becoming much more common in the church.  Certainly in Durham diocese, one of the things that is impressing us and exciting us about our new bishop is his risk taking vision. He impresses on us that failure is OK, because the only real failure is not to try at all. It is better than to try and fail, and try again, than to simply stagnate. The parable of the talents comes to mind (though I would have loved Jesus to have included an example of someone who invested 7 talents but lost them all due to changed market conditions, or bad weather...).

This strikes a chord with me. My father was a maths teacher, and one of the things I remember very strongly from my childhood was him impressing on me that mistakes were good. Making mistakes is how mathematicians learn. The better a mathematician you are, the more mistakes you will make, because the more things you will try - and that's how you will make new discoveries. Every mistake is a learning opportunity. The same is true of safety in industry; not that accidents or near-misses are good, but that they are opportunities to learn and make things safer.

But if risk taking is good - if risk taking is Godly, as the parable would seem to imply - then is sacramental assurance something to be desired and supported? How Godly is a desire for certainty?

Synod papers discussing the women bishops legislation repeatedly use the phrase 'necessary but not sufficient'. We are told that for some, the maleness of their priest or bishop is  necessary but not sufficient - to really feel safe, they might need a man who has been ordained by a man, or even by a man who has never participated in or supported women's ordination. This is to give 'sacramental assurance' - the feeling of certainty that the sacraments they are getting are real sacraments. Women's ordination, because it introduces an element of uncertainty, is seen as something that it is valid to want to avoid, since certainty is a good thing.

But I wonder if in fact we should embrace women's ordination precisely because it might involve an additional element of uncertainty?

This would give us the opportunity to demonstrate that we trust in God, and in his promises, without feeling that their efficacy depends on us getting it right.

The closest parallel I can think of historically is with infant baptism. In the Reformation period the practice of baptising babies was hotly contested by some radical reformers. This was because the biblical evidence for the practice is limited at best, and because it was felt that baptising babies risked endorsing the Roman Catholic economy of salvation, in which church ceremonies were necessary for salvation, not merely personal faith.

However, the mainstream reformers consistently resisted this argument. For Luther, Calvin and others, infant baptism was crucial. This was partly because it fitted into their city-state view of Christendom, that the membership of the church was the same as the membership of the community. But it was also - and this is particularly clear in Luther - because baptising babies symbolised very clearly that faith itself was a gift of God, entirely undeserved, not something we work to achieve.

The sacraments are not a magical incantation that need to be done by the right person in the right way to 'work'. Instead, they are God's free gift to humanity, and always depend on God's grace. It is indeed reassuring to think that God has promised to work through them; but that reassurance shouldn't tempt us into thinking that the church and church tradition has tamed and controlled Gods grace and power, and now has a monopoly on it. One recent letter to the Times used the image of electricity to describe the charism of ordination, and claimed that inserting a woman into the chain was like inserting an insulator into an electric circuit; the electricity simply couldn't flow through her. How sad, and how dangerously limiting, to think of God's saving grace as being constrained to only flow in certain pre-approved channels! If ordaining women challenges such a heresy, then all the more reason to do it.

No, we might not be sure it will 'work'. That's faith for you.