The Bishops and Same-Sex Marriage

I got into trouble on Face Book yesterday over the Bishop of Leicester's statement as convenor of the bishops in the House of Lords about equal (same-sex) marriage.

To recap, Lord Dear's so-called 'wrecking amendment' was decisively defeated in the House of Lords. It had been supported by most bishops, though a number abstained. None voted against. Bishop Stevens' statement said that in the light of the clear majorities in both Houses, the bishops needed to 'recognise the implications of this decision and to join with other Members in the task of considering how this legislation can be put into better shape'. In that context he mentioned fidelity in marriage and the rights of children. 'It is crucial that marriage as newly defined is equipped to carry within it as many as possible of the virtues of the understanding of marriage it will replace.  Our focus during the Committee and Report stages...will be to address these points in a spirit of constructive engagement.'

On FB, I suggested that given the bishops' well-known and publicly aired hostility to equal marriage, to speak in this rather different tone will have taken courage. For some of them, to recognise that the fight is over and equal marriage is the wish of the majority must have been a bitter pill to swallow. So I want to honour the spirit of Realpolitik that the bishops have shown, even if some of us, with Lord Harries and the Bishop of Salisbury, wish that the Church of England's leadership could have shown a more open and generous attitude to gay people during the debates.

I was in trouble with those who responded by saying that this was too little, too late and too grudging. But I'm reminded of Jesus' parable about the two sons whom their father asked to go and work in his vineyard.  One said yes, but didn't go.  The other said he wouldn't but in time came round and went. It was this son Jesus commended as having ultimately done the right thing. I read the statement as a sign that the bishops intend to be collaborative over equal marriage and help make the measure a better one. For me, this is honourable because it is doing the right thing in the end. Better to be late in doing it than not doing it at all.

As to what the bishops say about marriage, I agree that the proposals are not nearly strong enough on marriage as a covenanted relationship of fidelity.  In this respect, the Archbishop is right: same-sex and other-sex marriages would not be entirely equal. But for this reason, I don't think it is correct to speak about the measure as 'redefining' of marriage. The public covenant between two people who love and wish to belong to each other can and should be precisely the same in both.  It's no more a redefining of marriage than the remarriage of divorced people. In some ways, that is the more radical step to take because it entails considering in what way a covenant that has been broken for whatever reason could be entered into a subsequent time with another partner. So if the church is (largely) content to bless and even solemnise such marriages, this next step of making the institution more inclusive should not necessarily pose new difficulties. To enlarge the scope of an institution is not the same as changing its essential meaning.

There is something worryingly familiar about the bishops' statement however.  It is too often the case that the church is on the back foot, at first resisting social change that is wanted by the majority, then coming round to it slowly and grudgingly. This was precisely the case when artificial contraception was being debated in the early 20th century. Lambeth Conferences were root and branch opposed to the idea that sex could be for recreation as well as procreation. It would have been better to adopt the Gamaliel position of saying 'let us wait and see whether this might be of God'. Much the same can be said about women as priests and bishops in the church.

If you scroll down my blogs on this Woolgathering site, you'll find my piece on Gamaliel and equal marriage.  It's clearer now than then which way history is moving. It's not too late for the Church of England to be on the right side of it this time. Without grudge.

The Emotional Monarchist: thoughts on Coronation Day

Today has been a day to think about the monarchy once more. On the 60^th anniversary of the Coronation, I preached about the Coronation Oath this morning (weblink below). At evensong we welcomed a large crowd to celebrate the anniversary at a service wonderfully sung by the combined choirs of two local schools, which included Handel’s favourite coronation anthem Zadok the Priest.  I led prayers of thanksgiving and on behalf of the congregation offered congratulations to The Queen.

It posed the question, not for the first time, what kind of monarchist I am. That question needs putting in context.  Like every Church of England priest, I am required to take the oath of allegiance to the Sovereign every time I am appointed to a new post. I have twice been appointed to cathedral deaneries by the Crown, and am also a deputy lieutenant of the County.  So it’s a natural presumption that I am committed to the idea of monarchy and recognise that the constitutional Sovereign has a part to play in the life of both state and church.

I believe I now know where the seat of my loyalty to and affection for the Sovereign lies. It is not so much intellectual as emotional and spiritual. With my mind, I recognise that monarchy is not the only, and not the most obvious, constitutional arrangement for a modern democratic nation-state. Other successful nations are not monarchies. I also recognise the abuses of power perpetrated in the past by absolute monarchs, especially when undergirded by religion under some such rubric as the divine right of kings.  And I am sensitive about the risks of deference, where too high a doctrine of subject-hood and obedience can undermine true citizenship where all participate for the common good.

But the heart has its reasons….

At last year’s Diamond Jubilee, and again today, I have felt a deep sense of attachment to the British monarchy and of gratitude for the way in which our Queen has expressed it over six decades. I don’t need to recapitulate the virtues of dignity, wisdom and Christian faith that have characterised her reign. I said this morning: ‘On this anniversary, we give thanks once again for the faithfulness with which as a Christian queen, Elizabeth has consecrated herself to live her coronation vow. We celebrate her obedience to this vocation: unlooked for, unwanted, thrust upon her by history, yet embodied with dignity and wisdom. Leadership wedded to humane discipleship is a gift to any people’.

The point is, I think, that the reign of a particular king or queen usually happens over a longer time span than any political administration.  This allows a nation’s loyalties to be built up and tested over many years. Perhaps (lots of maybes here) this sense of tradition (= ‘what is handed on’) and continuity helps a nation retain its hold on a sense of history that reaches further back than the last few years.  Perhaps it also helps inculcate the ability (on a good day) to avoid short-termism and take a longer view of the future. Who knows?  It’s important not to claim too much here, but the questions are worth asking.

But most of all, a long reign helps bond sovereign and people together in an almost mystical relationship that is affective rather than cognitive – felt in the heart and spirit rather than simply known in the mind. Of course, that relationship (to which many would give the name of reciprocated love) will itself be subject to fluctuations – like any other. But I think we can say that there is a personal dimension to this relationship of Sovereign to people which draws out our affection, and possibly more, whether we have met her physically or not. And this is where the particular and unique way the Sovereign inhabits (I almost wrote ‘incarnates’) the office is everything.

Elizabeth the Second is the only monarch most of us have known. Who is to say that her example hasn’t helped shape the way my post-war generation came to understand the virtues of duty and responsibility, loyalty and trust, not to say Christian discipleship?  As we honour her today for her consecration to her Coronation Oath, we thank her for what she has embodied for us with dedication for so many years.  We thank God.  And if some of us were a little moved at what we saw and heard today, should that surprise us?  Perhaps quite a lot of us are emotional monarchists, in one sense or another.

Today’s sermon is at http://deanstalks.blogspot.co.uk/

No to Islamophobia

After last week’s killing of Drummer Rigby, what is there for me to say that hasn’t already been said far better by our political and religious leaders? We continue to pray for him and his family.  We pray for those who dream up and perpetrate these terrible acts, whatever their belief or ideology.  With our prayers we try to re-imagine a world in which historic hatreds are being healed and people of all faiths and cultures live together as friends.  And we stand alongside those of the Islamic faith who are feeling beleaguered, misunderstood and afraid in the aftermath of last week’s events.

 

I have been fortunate to live and work in two cities with great ethnic, cultural and religious diversity. Fortunate, because I have learned a great deal from people - Jewish, Muslim, Sikh and Hindu in particular - who have taken the trouble to befriend Christians by offering hospitality in their places of worship, helping us to understand their life, giving time to discuss issues of faith and social justice, being willing to make common cause in the pursuit of the common good.

 

But it is the personal, intimate encounters that leave the most vivid memories.  In Coventry, I remember how one afternoon, I was called across to the Cathedral by someone who wanted to see a priest. You never know what this request may be about. On this occasion it was an Asian woman, a Muslim I think, who had just come out of the maternity ward with her baby born 72 hours ago. She wanted to ‘present’ him to God in a holy place before she took him home and asked if I would say prayers with them both.  When we had done this, she pressed a banknote in the infant’s tiny hand and helped him give it to me for the Cathedral. It was an unforgettable moment.

 

In Sheffield, I found myself on the rota to preach at a special service due to be held on the very evening of 9/11. When external events suddenly create urgent theological and spiritual imperatives, you tear up the sermon you had planned and start again. Having to preach that night helped me to see how we must try to bring Christians and Muslims together as soon as possible to make sure what had happened in the US would not put good community relations in the UK at risk.

 

So I asked one of the senior imams to come to the diocesan synod to give an address. He opened by saying that as people of the Book, it was imperative that all of us as children of Abraham should work together for understanding and reconciliation in our world. Then he turned to the bishop and said: ‘You are a bishop for us Muslims as well as for Christians. We look to you to help us all find the ways of peace, and we thank you for the part you play as a spiritual leader in the life of our city’. Since then, I have heard other leaders of faith communities speak to us Christians in similar ways, but in the aftermath of the terrible events of September 2001, it was especially potent and memorable.

 

Here in Durham, I recall how we used to be visited by an elderly blind imam from Saudi Arabia who came to England each year to escape the searing heat of the Saudi summer. He was a highly respected theologian and ethicist who had taught clergy serving in the Great Mosque at Mecca. He used to stay with a Muslim community in Newcastle, and once asked them to take him to their favourite place in the North East. So they brought him to the Cathedral.

 

I took him round on a tour. It took a long time because he wanted to know everything, and relished the opportunity for some friendly dialogue across faith, all of which had to be done through an interpreter. He especially loved Cuthbert’s shrine where he said he strongly sensed the presence of a holy man, just like we have in Islam. He gave me an Arabic-English Qur’an in which he had marked up all the passages that speak positively about Christians. When I asked about those that were negative he replied: ‘I can tell, coming here, that you are all faithful people of the Book. Those other passages don’t refer to faithful practising Christians’.

 

We all have good stories to tell about encounters like these that affirm our God-given common humanity – if, that is, we are willing to reach beyond the narrow confines of our upbringing, histories and often lazy assumptions to take the risk of meeting people who are different. The ability to live with difference and embrace it is one of the most trustworthy indicators of being adult. This has always been the case. But in contemporary Britain the need to do this has become urgent. It doesn’t need this blog to point out the risks posed to a stable democratic society by extremists who have their own reasons for undermining it. They may be radicalised Muslims bent on indiscriminate killing and maiming. Or they may be people seduced into hating their Muslm neighbours by far-right Islamophobic tendencies on the other.

 

So I warmly welcome the statement put out today by the Christian-Muslim Forum’s co-chair who is also a senior officer of the Muslim Council of Britain. It represents the best of the noble faith that is Islam. Notice the reference to 'our Archbishop'.

 

The Muslim communities of Britain, like the rest of the country are shocked and appalled by the horrific murder in Woolwich. The murderers chanted slogans during their heinous crime claiming to do it in God’s name. Far from it. As our Prime Minister rightly concluded, this is a betrayal of Islam. Indeed, this is a truly barbaric act that has no basis in Islam and we condemn it utterly and unreservedly. 

 

Our thoughts and prayers are with Lee Rigby’s family and friends and especially his two year old son. Drummer Rigby was a serving member of the Armed Forces.  Muslims have long served in this country’s Armed Forces, proudly and with honour. This attack on a member of the Armed Forces is dishonourable, and no cause can justify this murder.

 

This crime has heightened tensions throughout the country.   The Muslim Council of Britain calls on all our communities, Muslim and non-Muslim, to come together in solidarity to ensure the forces of hatred do not prevail. 

 

I am immensely grateful for the leadership of our Archbishop during this most difficult time and thank leaders of all our faith communities for their support. Your local Muslim communities will welcome your support and I encourage you to knock at the doors of every mosque and offer them your neighbourly love. The Christian Muslim Forum is here to support you in that endeavour. 

 

As we pray for our nation to heal, we also pray for peace and justice throughout the world. Amin.

 

Shaykh Ibrahim Mogra

Co-Chair, Christian Muslim Forum

Assistant Secretary General, Muslim Council of Britain

 

The Dean and Di Canio: reflections on an eventful week

The media caravanserai has come and gone. Paolo di Canio has made a statement clarifying that he is not a fascist. Tomorrow the Black Cats play away at Chelsea.  Meanwhile, I shall have Sunday services.  What has this past week been all about?  Let me try to reflect.

It has not really been about football. As I said in my blog, I'm not competent to say aything about it despite reading avidly The Secret Footballer which lifts the lid on what goes on in the beautiful game. But even football cognoscenti take care what they say and where. Like religion at both its best and its worst, football arouses fierce passions and loyalties. At their best they inspire and exhilarate and build up community. At their worst their power can be frighteningly destructive. Think of homophobia and racism: not a happy story for either.

Some people thought I was indeed transgressing into football commentary. The comments on my blog speak for themselves. I decided not to delete them – it’s instructive to read them just as they are, even the ugly ones. A few seemed to think that all that mattered was Sunderland AFC and its football fortunes, whatever the manager-coach said or did. I hope I made it clear that it mattered to me too. But not at any price. There has to be integrity in public life: ethics is important. Premier League players and managers are as visible as you can get. They are influential role models. That’s why PDC had to make it clear that he did not endorse fascism in any form. It’s still a puzzle to me why he did not do that when he was asked to at his first press-call. But that’s history.  

Others asked how I dared to pronounce on PDC’s personal beliefs and motives. Now I was careful not to impute anything to his thought-world.  What I was concerned about was what he had publicly said and done. This is all any of us can be judged by. A propos of that, it's been bizarre to have readers speculate about my motives too. I've been accused of wanting my 15 minutes of fame; someone even said I had whored myself to the media.  This just shows how wrong people can be when they try to get behind the things we say or write. I don’t take it amiss when someone disagrees with what I say or do: open debate is healthy and good.  But I do demur when I am placed on the therapist’s couch and diagnosed from afar on the basis of a few hundred words in a blog.

A more serious accusation was that the church should stay out of such matters. This is an old chestnut.  Political leaders of every hue, with whom the church strongly disagrees at times, nowadays acknowledge its proper role in critiquing the life of society. Faith is about the whole of life, not simply the 'religious' part of it. To put it simplistically, God cares about the city of Sunderland and the Black Cats just as much as he cares about its churches and believers. That’s why the church must be in conversation with the affairs of our life in society. It’s as much God’s business as the church service.

So it’s right at times to raise questions about fairness, truth-telling and ethics. And this is all I was doing: asking questions (firmly, but courteously I hope) and inviting a response. I should perhaps not have thought that I could do this merely as a private individual under the rubric of ‘all views my own’: inevitably, my public role as dean came into it. But if the office helped lend weight and secured the desired outcome, I do not think I should regret it.

I did not publish my blog without first taking stock: wisdom lies as much in choosing when to speak as it does in choosing what to say. It is perilously easy to abuse the office of a vicar, dean or bishop. I would like to believe that I tried to be responsible in this. Some asked why I chose this particular issue: why not all the other injustices and atrocities being perpetrated across the world? Well, we can’t take on every wrong under the sun. But I do have a particular interest when it comes to Sunderland and the North East. So if there is a chance that by trying to bear witness we might just make some small difference, isn’t that better than doing nothing? Yes, we risk making mistakes. But when the day of reckoning comes, I’d rather be accused of having done something, however flawed it may be. As Burke said, evil triumphs when good people do nothing.  

I admit that I was not expecting my blog to be noticed by anyone other than a few friendly followers on Twitter (and thank you to them and others for helpful, encouraging comments). But let me end by saying something positive about the media’s role in all this.  It’s easy to knock the media but the coverage, at least of my bit of the story, has been exemplary. I have been fairly reported, often quoted at length. Some columnists even found something to smile at (football and religion also have in common that they can be seriously short on humour).

Today’s story is tomorrow’s fish-and-chip wrapping. Maybe I should have heeded the old publishing adage ‘never explain, never apologise’ rather than write a further blog. But there's no prohibition on reflection. As for the coming week, that could prove even more eventful if the Black Cats win tomorrow. That will be something to celebrate.  And why not?  Go for it, I say!

Update on Open Letter to Paolo di Canio

Today, Paolo di Canio has issued the following statement.

“I have clearly stated that I do not wish to speak about matters other than football, however, I have been deeply hurt by the attacks on the football club.

“This is a historic, proud and ethical club and to read and hear some of the vicious and personal accusations is painful. I am an honest man, my values and principles come from my family and my upbringing. 

"I feel that I should not have to continually justify myself to people who do not understand this, however I will say one thing only - I am not the man that some people like to portray.

“I am not political, I do not affiliate myself to any organisation, I am not a racist and I do not support the ideology of fascism. I respect everyone.

“I am a football man and this and my family are my focus.  Now I will speak only of football.” 

 

My open letter to Paolo di Canio was written out of concerns that I know many shared.  I wrote it with care, trying to voice what I thought were the important questions that needed asking.  Mr Di Canio’s statement has provided these answers and I warmly welcome that.  This will allow everyone to move forward and focus on football at Sunderland, and the job to be done at one of the North East’s great clubs.

 

An Open Letter to Paolo di Canio

Dear Paulo di Canio

 

We have never met, and I am the first to admit that I don't know very much about football. You do, and I respect that. However, I hope you will allow me to say something about your appointment as manager at Sunderland FC as personally as I can.

 

My relationship with the Black Cats goes back a long way. I married into a family of fervent lifelong Sunderland supporters.  My wife and I got engaged on Cup Final Day 1973, figuring that if Sunderland won her father would say yes to anything and if they lost, he would be past caring.  All these years we have wanted SAFC to do well. We have been glad when it did, and sad when it didn't. We know how much its football success has meant for the people of Sunderland and the North East who are rightly proud of your new Club.  

 

But today I am wondering what to do. Your appointment raises very difficult questions. You see, I am the child of a Jewish war refugee who got out of Germany and came to Britain just in time. Some of her family and friends perished in the Nazi death camps. So I find your self-confessed fascism deeply troubling. Fascism was nearly the undoing of the world. It cost millions of innocent lives. Mussolini, who you say has been deeply misunderstood, openly colluded with it.  You are said to wear a tattoo DUX which speaks for itself. This all adds up to what I find baffling. 

 

You say that you are not a racist, but it needs great sophistication to understand how fascism and racism are ultimately different.  I can promise you that this distinction will be lost on the people of the North East where the British National Party is finding fertile ground in which to sow the seeds of its pernicious and poisonous doctrine.  You did not necessarily know this before you came.  But I believe that unless you clearly renounce fascism in all its manifestations, you will be associated with these toxic far-right tendencies we have seen too much of in this region.

 

At your press conference today, you had the chance to do this, to say in so many words that you have been misunderstood (just as you say Mussolini was).  You were asked where you stood on fascism, but declined to give an unambiguous response.  One sentence is all that it would have taken.  I’m genuinely perplexed as to why you didn’t take the opportunity that was handed to you. Maybe your minders told you to stay on-message.  But don't you see that it is no answer to plead that this press call was about football, not politics.  Where a Premier League club is concerned, you can’t ever separate the two. Politics and high-profile sport, like religion, are about the whole of life.  Football is deeply political. To say otherwise may be convenient, but it's naïve.

 

Premier League players and managers are big role-models for the young.  Is fascism what you or Sunderland FC want our children and teenagers to admire and emulate?  And if this doesn’t trouble you personally, should it not trouble those who appointed you?  The Club now stands to suffer loss of support as well as see its standing and respect damaged not just in this part of the world but internationally. Its reputation has been hard won. I am just one of thousands who would be sad to see it squandered.

 

So there it is. Please tell me how to go on supporting the Black Cats with a good conscience, even from the sofa, because believe me, I want to. Please tell me that I have misunderstood, or missed some fundamental issue here. I am simply telling you with a heavy heart that it feels hard at the moment to stay loyal.

 

Yours sincerely,

Michael Sadgrove

 

Easter: Off-beat Reflections

It may have been the coldest Easter Day on record, but in Durham it was golden. I wish it could have gone on for ever. In an ultimate sense it does, of course: resurrection is not just for Easter. And now we are celebrating the Great Fifty Days of Easter that take us to Pentecost with alleluias all the way.

The sights and sounds of Easter Day linger on. The lighting of the new fire an hour before dawn in the cloister garth as dark as grave; the rattles, whistles, bells and cymbals that accompanied the first great alleluia! shout; the quantities of water freely ladled out of the font as candidates were baptised; the new copes lending brilliant colour to the day’s celebrations; magnificent choral music (including an Easter piece by Widor of Toccata fame, said to be the loudest anthem in the choir’s repertoire); the pleasure on choristers’ faces as my wife and I gave them eggs and chocolates after the services. Worshippers came in great numbers and, from what they told me afterwards, were genuinely touched and inspired. As I was.

But two memories stand out, both of them surprises.

The first was of administering communion at the dawn vigil service. Twenty were confirmed, of all ages from young choristers upwards. It is always moving to see the candidates kneeling round the great Cathedral font as the bishop moves round the circle laying hands on them. They received communion before anyone else. And as they knelt at the altar and I gave them the sacred host, a wonderful scent filled the nave sanctuary.

It took me a short while to realise what it was: the perfume in the chrism oil that had been liberally poured on to their heads at the font. Two weeks before, I had preached on the woman who anointed the feet of Jesus with her precious ointmentThe aroma filled the house, says the gospel. But yesterday’s was the scent not of burial but of resurrection. It was an unexpectedly tender and beautiful experience.

The second also happened during communion, this time at the mid-morning sung eucharist. I was administering at the west end. What felt like a never-ending flow of people came up to receive the bread or to be blessed. Most of these I didn’t know personally: regulars are always far outnumbered by visitors and guests at the great festivals.

But at the end someone came up whom I knew extremely well. It was my eldest daughter carrying her month-old son Isaac, our first grandchild. I put out my hand to touch him and give him his first church blessing. That touch was charged with a significance I can’t put into words. It was as if all of life seemed to be gathered up in this tiny child. I wondered if Simeon felt something like it when the infant Jesus was presented in the temple. It was as if I was being offered a great gift.  It wasn’t I who was the giver, but he. The intensity of the moment subsided as it had to.  But it will be unforgettable, I am sure of that.

They were both off-beat experiences: not about sight or hearing which tend to dominate our consciousness, but about scent and touch. I have heard it said that these are the more basic, primary among our senses. A baby depends mainly on them to recognise mother. And at the end of life, touch and smell outlast the other senses leaving a person who is gently slipping away with something like the experience of beginning life.

I don’t pretend to understand these things. But I did glimpse how in a wonderful way, Easter speaks to each of our human senses. Our meeting with the risen Christ is not just a matter of seeing and listening but of allowing him to encounter all our human faculties, so that we can become more fully human through his resurrection. To recognise this and not to be afraid of it is what it means to be embodied, for the incarnate Jesus and for us.

‘The glory of God is a human being fully alive’ said Irenaeus famously. That’s one of the gifts of Easter.  Maybe it's not so off-beat after all.

My sermon on the anointing at Bethany is at http://deanstalks.blogspot.co.uk.