They say good fences make good neighbours. Partners in the gospel across denominational divides instinctively appreciate that to peer, eyebrows raised, into one another’s pastoral backyards is generally neither welcome nor helpful. So we tend to stick to our own patches and bite our tongues.
But sometimes the rule has to be broken.
We non-conformists have largely kept our counsel this year. After the February Synod, most of us took the view that our kindest and most productive contribution would be simply to stand back and pray for you as you processed the newly defined clarity of the Cof E’s trajectory.
Why? Because we love you. We feel the pain that you, our like-minded partners labouring in the Church of England, are carrying. We really do. You think we’re shaking our heads in blind disbelief at your intransigence, clapping ourselves on the back with smug self-congratulation that we weren’t so foolish as to climb on board your sinking ship. You think we’ve written you off as cowardly, compromised, stipend-grabbing, rectory-comfortable, pension-anxious hypocrites. You think we’ve finally lost patience with your claims to be evangelical first and Cof E only second.
Well, to be truthful, maybe we do sometimes wonder about that last one! But most of all, we love you and wouldn’t wish what you’re going through on our worst enemies.
And we understand something of the causes of your paralysis. We know you think we don’t, but we do. We get the emotional investment you’ve made in this institution you’ve bound yourself to. We get the stewardship responsibility you feel with the resources that have been bequeathed to you and which you feel honour-bound to pass on to your successors in good shape. We get the weight of history bearing down on your shoulders for this institution that has been at the heart of the life of our nation for centuries. We get your sense of vocation, your distinct ecclesiology, your convictions about the gospel utility of establishment and the parish system. We even get the deep, gut-level affection you have for this Church which you often despair of, but has nevertheless become a part of you, colouring your life and thinking at all sorts of levels.
We get it!
But what do you do when you see your neighbour’s house clearly on fire, and yet there he is in the front room defiantly spread-eagled on his settee, eyes screwed shut and noise-cancelling earbuds plugged in, so that both sight and sound of the devastation happening all around is blocked out? Or else you see him trying to barricade the lounge door in the hope that if he can just put enough structural differentiation between himself and the onrushing inferno elsewhere in the building he’ll make it through? Or perhaps you get closer and can see the messages coming to his phone from senior figures (who should know better) advising him simply to suck some ice cubes to try and keep cool: pastoral provision and thicker walls are on the way.
What do you do? Surely you’re no good neighbour if you simply walk on by with a cheery wave (in case he’s actually got an eye half-open after all)? No, when you see that situation, there’s only one thing you can do. You forget the ‘good fences’ rule. And you yell.
In the cool light of day, we all know that sometimes it takes a critical friend, preferably one slightly outside our immediate circle, to give us a reality check. We all need that. So, although we want to be encouraging and empathetic, affirming and appreciative, can we perhaps – with genuine humility – tell you what we hear you saying, just in case any of it hits home for you.
You say: ‘Nothing has changed. Our doctrine is as it ever was. The synod vote means nothing and could even be reversed. We’re still an evangelical church to the hilt. Just look at the formularies!’
In one sense, you’re right. Little has actually changed, except that the doctrinal falsehood that has been busily metastasizing through the various organs of the body for decades has finally now broken out on to the skin, and is therefore now visible with the naked eye to even the most casual passer-by.
But to say nothing has changed and to appeal as you do to ‘The formularies! The formularies!’ sounds to us not dissimilar to the people of Jerusalem crying out ‘The temple! The temple!’ Those doctrinal authorities you delight in simply cannot bear the weight you place on them. Not because they are less than robust, beautiful and (largely) Biblical. But because after a long period of casual, informal disregard, they have now been officially, synodically consigned to a glass case in the museum. It can no longer be asserted that they determine the practice of the church. The new reality is simply incompatible with a claim that nothing has changed.
You say: ‘It’s our church! Why should we leave? The progressives ought to be the ones to go.’
And you’re dead right: they should. But they’re not going to. Why? Because after decades of the front door being left wide open by poor shepherding, false teaching and lack of discipline, they’ve not only moved in; they’ve claimed squatters’ rights and have no intention of going anywhere. You may not want them to have the satisfaction of winning, but the results are in. They’ve got the keys now.
And if you genuinely think – as some of you seem to – that these trials will be temporary, that they’ll have to be canned for legal reasons after a few years, then with all due respect, let us say: you are off with the fairies! Ten years ago we were told same-sex marriage couldn’t be legislated by parliament. Seven years ago we heard that Brexit couldn’t be done. Guess what: where there’s a will, there’s a way. And one message coming loud and clear from synod is: there is a will. We love the optimism, but there’s clearly no going back now.
You say: ‘What of the flock in our care? We can’t desert them! What sort of shepherds do you think we are?’
If, as we hope, that really is your genuine concern (rather than a cover for inertia – which might perhaps present itself in similar clothing), we commend you for the seriousness with which you take your pastoral responsibility. But ask yourself this: how well are you in fact caring for your sheep in the long term, when you both implicitly encourage them to hang out with Jezebel and leave them as easy pickings for the wolf as soon as you leave your post? Indeed, how well are you caring for them in the short term, when you know full well those sheep will likely have the fag end of your physical and emotional energies, the bulk of which over the years ahead will have to be spent nurturing your inner cunning Odysseus or Jason Bourne in order to attempt – almost certainly unsuccessfully – to fight your way to some form of amicable political settlement.
And meanwhile, what of the rest of the bishop’s charge to you at your ordination: you were instructed not only to ‘feed and provide for the Lord’s family’, but to ‘seek for Christ’s sheep that are dispersed abroad, and for his children who are in the midst of this naughty world, that they may be saved through Christ for ever’. Do you really think a sabotaged boat that is visibly sinking is still the best boat to fish from?
You say: ‘But you need us! You non-conformists rely on our generously proportioned parasol to take shelter from the heat of anti-discrimination legislation. We’re fighting this fight in part for you!’
Well, yes, up to a point, you’re right. And we’re grateful: we have indeed benefited from that cover and continue to do so – for now. But its days are clearly numbered. That parasol’s beginning to look like a special purchase from the middle of Lidl: the material’s already wearing thin, the springs are going and frankly the whole thing looks set to come crashing down on our heads any moment. We mean no disrespect, but a number of us are quietly wondering whether the Muslims are a better bet: their equipment may lack the ample shade that comes with establishment, but at this point it’s looking a lot sturdier and an all-round safer prospect than anything you will have to offer in the coming years.
You say: ‘All this may be true, but unlike you lot, we’re team players. We care about things like loyalty and mutuality and the strength of moving together. By making a move now, we’d be letting the side down.’
Okay. Here, we suspect, you’re now finally being honest with yourselves and us. This is where we get past the smoke and mirrors and find the real blockage. But here’s the thing. You say ‘strategy’ and ‘collegiality’. But I’m afraid what we hear – for better or for worse – is ‘pragmatism’ and ‘fear of man’. Of course it takes time to plan a course-correction of this magnitude in your life and ministry. Naturally you’re wise to consult well. It’s why we’ve said little to you and chosen instead the path of prayer for wisdom and courage. But what concerns us is that, when push comes to shove, your real motivation seems to amount to this: that if you move apart from or ahead of the pack, you’re just worried you won’t be able to look each other in the eye at your network meetings and eventually your retirement parties.
You say: ‘The fight has galvanised the opposition. Our coalition with the Anglo-Catholics and the HTB network – coupled with our financial clout – means we can win the fight for structural differentiation. We’re too big to ignore. Yes, the CEEC provisions may be nothing but a thick coat in the face of a new ice age – good for a season but no more – but if enough of us hang in there, we’ve got this one.’
Again, we’re loving the optimism. If wishing could make it so… But if any of you really do believe this, then you sound to us like the anti-children of Isaachar. You simply cannot read the times or the seasons.
These people, your progressive opponents, know how to win. They are determined and well-resourced and they will stoop to any low. They’ll buy you, divide you, deceive you, delay you and gradually whittle you down until whoever remains is no more than an irrelevance. And meanwhile you will find that the idolatry you currently diagnose in them will have taken root in your own heart: the thrill of the fight will have come to mean more to you than the good opinion of your Master. You will have forsaken your first love.
And one more thing. Call us thin-skinned if you will, but we can’t help but find it pretty offensive that you would rather cosy up to Rome-lite and the charismatics than make common cause with us, your theological stablemates. Are we really that distasteful to you? Or are your theological priorities so out of kilter? Do you even see how your identity is being moulded and your priorities recalibrated by those you keep company with?
It seems to us you’ve forgotten the thing you’re supposed to be ‘contending as one’ for. Not an institution, but ‘the faith of the gospel’.
We do not underestimate the complexity of the situation and the weightiness of your decisions. But we know ecclesiological agoraphobia when we see it. There is life and ministry outside the embrace of the Church of England. There is even – though some of you seem to look down your nose at it – Anglican life and ministry outside the Church of England. You get to keep your beloved episcopacy if that is your heart’s desire!
So please wake up. Unscrew those eyes and remove the earbuds. Your house is on fire; do you really want to go down in the flames?
Editor's note: The writer is a non-conformist evangelical who has asked to remain anonymous for personal reasons. Named articles are much to be preferred. However, the arguments here, which do represent a heartfelt view held by some, are worth hearing and engaging with. And the author’s request for anonymity, given their specific individual circumstances and particular context, is reasonable on this occasion. We hope readers will engage with the points made on their own merits.
en is carrying a range of news and perspectives on these issues. For other articles in this edition with a variety of thoughts see these news items and features below... And have your say (thoughtfully!) via the correspondence section
Hard decisions will have to be made says Benn
Screwtape: 'Ludicrous games unfulfilled promises'
Stay, says bishop
CEEC latest
Unity? This spurious unity is sinful and deadly
A grave betrayal
Should the CofE pay slavery reparations?
During a recent trip to Ghana, Archbishop of Canterbury Sarah Mullally renewed her commitment to a £100 million reparation fund …