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Items posted here reflect the authors' own views

and not necessarily the views of the Church in Wales

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In the times we live in, where there seems to be so much division and discord, this poem by Jay Hulme from 2021 popped up on social media recently and beautifully sums up everything we believe as a church and community in St. Michael's. All, all, all are welcome - just as you are! 

A poem for thought on Mothering Sunday, inspired by the painting by Max Ernst, The Blessed Virgin Chastises the Infant Jesus Before Three Witnesses (1926)

The Virgin Punishing the Infant
by Carol Ann Duffy

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He spoke early. Not the goo goo goo of infancy,
but I am God. Joseph kept away, carving himself
a silent Pinocchio out in the workshed. He said
he was a simple man and hadn’t dreamed of this.

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She grew anxious in that second year, would stare
at stars saying Gabriel? Gabriel? Your guess.
The village gossiped in the sun. The child was solitary,
his wide and solemn eyes could fill your head.

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After he walked, our normal children crawled. Our wives
were first resentful, then superior. Mary’s child
would bring her sorrow … better far to have a son
who gurgled nonsense at your breast. Googoo. Googoo.

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But I am God. We heard him through the window,
heard the smacks which made us peep. What we saw
was commonplace enough. But afterwards, we wondered
why the infant did not cry, why the Mother did.

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From the Bishop of Durham, Paul Butler, Church of England Spokesman on Refugees:

 

No one wants to see people risking their lives to reach safety, but we must ask is this Bill the right response - one that is built on compassion, justice and moral leadership?

It’s likely to push thousands of people, including children, into a prolonged legal limbo and imprisonment, and does nothing to support timely and effective consideration of asylum requests. 

It would label all those crossing the Channel illegal entrants and therefore people to whom we do not owe a responsibility and would criminalise the act of claiming asylum - without acknowledging that many are highly vulnerable people escaping persecution and war, who have been left with no safe routes.

Providing safe and legal routes is part of the solution and not one only to be explored after Channel crossings have ended.

The Home Secretary acknowledges the growing global refugee crisis, which we can’t solve on our own, but it is disappointing that the Government has decided to not take on a greater role in leading the world to equitably support those forced to flee their home. 

The consequences of this will be felt by vulnerable migrants, and by poorer countries in the global south already supporting the vast majority of the world’s refugees.

We must not abdicate our legal and moral responsibility to some of the world’s most vulnerable by simply treating asylum seekers as a group not to be welcomed or integrated, but detained and returned. We must do and be better.

QUIET, PLEASE!

Is it me, or has the world just become more and more strident in recent years? Or is my patience wearing even thinner as I age?

Several things have come together – as is the wont of the Holy Spirit, I feel – to make me think long and hard about the way of the world, and particularly how we seem to have lost the ability to ‘disagree well’.

Currently there are arguments in the Church (what a surprise! Arguments in the Church? ‘I am for Apollos’, ‘I am for Paul’, ‘I am for Christ’ – ring a bell?) about same-sex marriage, and in society in general about identity and gender.

For what it’s worth, my radical approach to solving the argument about same-sex marriage is to relieve the Anglican Church of its ability to officiate at and license weddings altogether and make all marriages civil, with the religious institutions providing blessings - if they wished - for all couples, gay or straight. I read recently that the Christian Church did not hold marriage services until several centuries after Christ and that marriage in the Bible was seen very much as a legal contract between the heads of two families whose offspring were to be married,  with dowries and the lowly status of women legalised; so all this talk of Christian marriage is a relatively new concept. It’s not that long ago that women had to promise to ‘obey’ their husbands. Obey has gone and marriage is seen as a union of two equals, and really I couldn’t care less if they were male and female or any permutation of the two.

I find it hard to understand fully the arguments about gender and identity as it is beyond my realms of experience, but I am more than happy for people to be the people they want to be – as long as it’s not hurtful or harmful to others.

What I am finding increasingly hard to do is to listen to and respond to people in church, in our community, on our TV screens and social media accounts who voice their opinions with such vigour, who dismiss others’ views in a disparaging or condescending manner, and who become increasingly aggressive (as their best form of defence) with anyone who may think differently. Lately, having heard a talk on safeguarding, I fear that this is becoming a form of ‘spiritual’ abuse. And I also fear that the Church is losing members because of it.

The Church of England in its ‘Safeguarding e-Manual’ has the following wise words, amongst many others, for a healthy church community:

Examples of characteristics of a healthy Christian culture include a culture in which:

  • There is a genuinely open dialogue, there is positive encouragement and active welcoming of different perspectives and views.

  • Everyone is valued, respected and nurtured and no one is isolated or excluded.

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We pride ourselves in our church on our inclusive approach, where all, all, all are welcome. I hope and pray that this continues to be the case.

From the blog of Kelvin Holdsworth, Provost of St. Mary's cathedral, Glasgow,

in the Scottish Episcopal Church.

A long time ago and in a land far away, by which I mean Fife, I was a theological student. It was a good time in my life. By and large I was in the company of clever people, learning clever things from clever people. Theological education can be exciting and that was an exciting time for me.

In the course of that time, I remember a little game that some of us used to play occasionally. It wasn’t Cards Against Humanity or even the Christian version, A Game for Good Christians that theological students are fond of in current times. No, it was called the Heresy Game and you could play it just about anywhere, including in the pub, so long as no-body had imbibed too much. (As an aside, the standard test for whether or not someone was drunk in my day was whether or not they could spell Schleiermacher with their eyes closed).

The rules of the Heresy Game are simple. One person thinks up a new heresy and describes it. The others then have to prove that it isn’t a new heresy at all by showing that the basic idea has already been declared a heresy by the church. Was it silly? Yes. Was it pretentious? Yes, deeply pretentious. Was it a good way of learning Fourth Century Christologies about which one was going to be examined? Well, actually, yes it was.

I have been thinking about this little game this week whilst reading some interesting commentary on where current thinking lies in the Church of England about how to move forward on the marriage of same-sex couples.

The first thing to note perhaps is that there does now seem to be a conversation about how this might be done which is getting more attention than conversations about whether this should be done at all. However, I am not 100% convinced that all that is being proposed is good and holy.

Now, why does this matter to me? After all, I don’t belong to the Church of England myself and would vote in favour of any proposals to heighten Hadrian’s ecclesiastical wall.

Well, the trouble is, and this is trouble that we’ve met many times over the years, things that happen in one part of the Anglican Communion affect those who worship the Lord in other parts of the Anglican vineyard. What we’ve never really established is what the things are that we should care about and what the things are that we should leave to the decisions of other Provinces.

Notwithstanding my many assertions over the years that changes that some churches brought in over the marriage of same-sex couples were best decided by the various Anglican provinces alone, somewhere in the back of my mind is the idea that the way that change happens can be just as important as the changes themselves. Indeed, in some cases, one might care less about what is changing and more about the way that change is being brought about.

Which brings us to current thinking about the way in which same-sex marriage might come about in churches of the Church of England.

Last week I read the most interesting thing about this that I’ve read in some time. It is a reflection from the Rev Canon Simon Butler on the outcomes of private talks held between those who want the marriages of same-sex couples to be a possibility and those who don’t. It is interesting, thoughtful and intelligent.

The common assumption seems to be that the marriage of same-sex couples in the Church of England is coming, albeit with a conscience clause for those opposed, and that many of those who are opposed to it would be able to stomach being in a church which does it.

So far so good.

The trouble is, it is claimed that the conscience clause isn’t enough.

Now, I’ve got a bit of history with the idea of a conscience clause in relation to same-sex marriages. The idea emerged within the local Regional Council that I belong to in Glasgow and was subsequently taken up by the diocese and then by the Scottish Episcopal Church and forms the basis on how we moved forward on this question. It was the Glasgow North-East Regional Council’s finest hour.

However, the idea of a conscience clause in Scotland was not simply to legitimise those who didn’t want to perform the marriage of same-sex couples. The idea of the conscience clause arose from the idea that the consciences of everyone in the church should be protected in relation to the marriage of same-sex couples. It was easy to agree that the consciences of those who disagreed with such marriages should be protected only so far as it was also agreed that the consciences of those who did want to conduct such marriages were also protected.

Pro-gay people have consciences too. This understanding that everyone’s consciences needed to be protected unlocked the impasse we had been in and allowed us to move forward in a way that kept almost all the church together.

What is being suggested at the moment in England is a conscience clause that would protect only the objectors and the assertion is being made that this wouldn’t be enough to satisfy objectors either. To any conscience clause would be added some form of structural change in the church that would mean that in some way those who objected to the marriage of same-sex couples would receive only the ministrations of bishops who also objected to the marriage of same-sex couples. It would set up an anti-gay structure within the Church of England that would be somehow protected forever.

Now, is this ringing any kind of bell?

Yes, of course, it is how the C of E has enabled the ordination to the priesthood and the episcopate of candidates who happen to be women. There are claimed to be two integrities in the Church of England and both are supposed to flourish forever.

Quite how the ministry of ordained women is supposed to be regarded as flourishing when the institution has set up structures to advance the cause of those who don’t believe that they are really ordained is, to say the least, problematic.

On the one hand, this solution allowed women to be ordained as both priests and as bishops and some people clearly think that was a price worth paying. However, from outside the system it does look very much as though they rode a coach and horses through catholic order as though it simply didn’t matter.

I rather think that those of us who are Episcopalians/Anglicans outside the C of E should have cared more about this at the time.

However, the Church of England voted for this mess and to a certain extent it is getting what it deserves.

But the prodigal daughter of that particular settlement could well be something similar for the (presumed majority) pro-gay folk in that church.

The question I have, is how far the C of E intends to go with this model?

Just how many “integrities” can you have?

It was often said that the marriage of same-sex couples would be a slippery slope and that no sooner were we marrying men to men and women to women, we would find ourselves authorising polygamous marriages, throuples and marriages of people with their pets.

Now this didn’t happen but I find myself wondering whether the real slippery slope in all this is that the C of E will continue to set up further church-within-a-church structures where people can have so-called sacramental confidence that they are only ever going to be dealing with bishops who share their own theological peccadillos.

I’ve been ordained for a long time now and have had the ministry of a number of bishops. I’m pretty sure that they would all be horrified at the idea that they could only be my bishop if they shared my views. (This works both ways, but putting it that way perhaps focusses the mind).

Now, my question for all of us who are playing the Heresy Game today – for remember, I co-opted you into a quick round of that game at the start of this post, is this… Has the Church of England managed to invent a new heresy – specifically, that bishops will be provided to cater for particular theological positions?

Tell me, C of E friends, what’s next? Will we be having bishops for those who in all conscience don’t believe in racial equality too?

Oh, I know that’s an offensive question. (And I also know those whose lived experience is that there’s more than enough church leaders who have racist views already).

I know many will think that it is completely unacceptable to compare those who are unable to accept the ordination of women or the marriages of same-sex couples, or the consequent bishops living openly in such marriages, to those who are racist.

The trouble for the Church of England is that the general population aligns those various issues and can’t really see the difference.

Deep in my heart, neither can I.

The conscience question cuts both ways. Those who are in favour of the marriage of same-sex couples shouldn’t be expected to live and work in a church which structurally discriminates against those in same-sex relationships. Women in ministry shouldn’t be expected to live and work in a church which structurally discriminates against women. And calling that experience thriving or flourishing is just plain cruel.

Somewhere along the way, the C of E is devising “solutions” to these questions which compromise the morality and common-good expectations of the general population.

That’s a matter for folk in England though why any church should think such solutions are good, bewilders me.

But they compromise good catholic order too, and that’s something that all Anglicans should care about.

The trouble with heresies is that people tend not to keep them to themselves.

ANGELS

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In the season of Michaelmas, members of the congregation were asked about their experience of angels, or if they had an 'angelic' experience. Well, here's mine  . . .


I don’t think I’ve ever seen an angel – well, not some very tall supernatural being with
wings, as is usually depicted in works of art. The word ‘angel’ is supposed to mean
‘messenger’ – and I’ve seen plenty of those; some with good news, others with bad.


But if pushed about an ‘angelic experience’, I can think of one occasion quite clearly where I
sensed a presence of enveloping benevolence and protection.


I had been summoned to the manager’s office and was being subjected to claims about my
behaviour and performance at work which became increasingly aggressive as well as more
and more inaccurate.


I was quite unnerved by the degree of malice in this confrontation and felt at a complete
loss as to how to respond. It took place in the manager’s office and the autumn sun was
shining low through the window directly onto my face. I felt suddenly that the light was
burning just a touch more brightly and a sense of calm came over me – and did I hear a
voice that said: ‘Stand your ground, don’t accept this; this is neither true nor fair’? I felt as if
someone or something had picked me up and wrapped me in a warm protective blanket.
Somewhere from within me came this still, small voice of calm that began to refute and
disprove the allegations made to me. The manager seemed unused to someone choosing to
disagree and was somewhat taken aback. Our differences were resolved and amicable
relations restored.


I have used this experience many times since to find the strength to play the guardian angel
for others, looking out for people, supporting them in their struggles. The Bible tells us
many times: ‘Do not be afraid’ and I am sure that this is what my guardian angel was telling
me all those years ago.

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The Orange

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At lunchtime I bought a huge orange -
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave,
They got quarters and I had a half.

 

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

 

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.

 

Liz used this poem, by Wendy Cope, during her sermon on a recent Zoom service. It seems to have struck a chord as Caroline pinched it and used in her sermon the following Sunday!

There’s a spirit of contentment and pleasure in the ordinary things of life in this poem. Some may say they are mundane activities – shopping, walking, sharing an orange - but the poet seems to take great comfort from these things, the ordinary making the rest of her day ‘easy’ – she does all the things she has to, and is glad to do so, and she even has time left over to herself; the mundane enabling her to reflect on the bigger things in life – love, and existence itself.

What are the ordinary things you take pleasure in? Do you find yourself with time to reflect on the bigger picture?

For me, it’s tidying up – bringing order out of seeming chaos! And as I get older, the bigger picture seems to just get even bigger, with whole galleries opening up as I ponder. And no, I’m not any the wiser – but I do feel glad I exist.

 

Anon

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LAMBETH 2022

The bishops of the Anglican Communion – many, but not all – gathered in late July/ early August at the University of Kent from all four corners of the globe for the ‘Lambeth Conference’, an event held usually every ten years. The Encyclopaedia Britannica states: .

Lambeth Conferences are the primary means of joint consultation for Anglican leaders on internal Anglican matters, relations with other churches and religions, and theological, social, and international questions. They also have been used by bishops to discuss matters of Anglican unity and identity. The conferences normally issue an encyclical letter, a series of resolutions, and the reports prepared by committees. The decisions of the conferences have no binding power over the 38 national Anglican churches, which must adopt them by synodical or other constitutional means to give them legal force.

And no doubt you will have followed the fuss in the media about this year’s conference which asked the bishops to respond to various ‘calls’. One of these focused on the issue of homosexuality and same-sex marriage. Personally, I have no issue with this, but I am interested in how the Christian Church responds to change.

In the Church at large, we profess a lot about unity and the traditions of the faith handed down to us by generations who have gone before. Many claim the Bible as the authoritative source of all faith. My view, however, is that God’s story does not end with the final verses of Revelation. It is an ongoing story, of a God who loves us and is intimately involved with this world. And that story will evolve, develop, and be unique for each one of us.

I was vaguely aware from my reading of the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles in the New Testament that not everything was rosy in God’s garden in the early Church. There was tension – to say the least – between the thinking of Peter and Paul in how to approach and nurture this new Jewish-Gentile community. Paul spends a lot of his time travelling to spread the Good News but is also busy writing letters telling people off for the things they were getting wrong. So argument and dispute were there right at the beginning. I remember attending one Governing Body meeting where one cleric remarked - quite wisely, I thought - ‘The Holy Spirit divides as well as unites’.

And it seems the Holy Spirit has been quite busy dividing as well as uniting down the years. A quick glance at Wikipedia reveals that there have been over 50 ‘schisms’ – splits, differences of opinion and interpretation - in the Christian Church since about AD150. We know from life that things don’t stay static. Things change. Our knowledge and understanding (and maybe wisdom?) extend and improve. Certainly I no longer think or speak the way I thought and spoke as a child, and as Thomas Carlyle said: I don’t pretend to understand the Universe. It’s a great deal bigger than I am.

What I do understand, however, is that the Church is still here, 2000 years after that curtain-wrenching, stone-rolling event in Jerusalem. It has survived attack, division and overcome the challenges change brings with it – largely thanks to the men and women who, despite the difficulties, have a gospel of Good News to proclaim for all, all, all.

 

Martha

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Tom Wright, is an English New Testament scholar, Pauline theologian and Anglican bishop. He was the bishop of Durham from 2003 to 2010. He then became research professor of New Testament and Early Christianity at St Mary's College in the University of St Andrews in Scotland until 2019, when he became a senior research fellow at Wycliffe Hall at the University of Oxford.

BOOK REVIEW

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St. Paul was the reason I failed RE O Level. At least, that is what I tell my 16-year-old self. RE O Level was an optional extra at my school and the teacher had chosen to follow a syllabus entitled ‘The Rise of the Early Christian Church’, which involved a study of the Acts of the Apostles and some of Paul’s letters. I can’t even remember which ones - so unimpressed was I by this apparently self-righteous, argumentative, opinionated and sometimes downright rude prig. At least, that is how I felt at the time, and I suppose first hates - as much as first loves - are long-lasting. So unimpressed but I didn’t really do the work or revision required to pass the exam either, to be fair. After this initial exposure, I didn’t really rate Paul at all, seeing him as some fuddy-duddy with strange views on head-coverings for women – amongst other things – and I put him to one side for many years.

During these years, when reading the lessons in church, I began to appreciate that Paul had a sly sense of humour and a lot of his more cutting remarks he directed equally to himself as well as to his readers. But no major ground shift until recently, by chance, I read a review of Tom Wright’s ‘Biography of Paul’, now re-printed in paperback. So intrigued was I, I ordered a copy. And this is a book I recommend wholeheartedly. Wright uses historical sources, alongside the accounts in the Acts of the Apostles and the content of Paul’s letters, to portray an intelligent, articulate man of his time, willing and able to put across to the Jewish/Gentile Jesus-following church the message and hope of the crucified Messiah and His resurrection with zeal, authority and compassion. Wright succeeds in making Paul a much more interesting and multi-faceted character than the one I imagined him to be when I was 16, and he writes with great empathy, respect and love for this true giant of the Christian Church. The last chapter, when Paul is contemplating the prospect of his execution and death, is particularly moving. It’s been a long time coming, but I can now say with conviction: ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant!’ Not many books leave a lasting impression, but this one certainly did.

Anon

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PS. Don’t ask to borrow the book.

As Paul wrote in his long-lost but recently discovered letter to the Cathaysians – ‘Never a borrower nor a lender be!’

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