Living in parched places: February 2025 General Synod

I’m just back from a five-day Synod in central London. And, not for the first time, I’m wondering what the point of it all is. That’s exacerbated by being aware of some blatant attempts at manipulation, with the days and even hours before the meeting began being filled with last-minute messages to members and last-minute publication of press releases and blog posts designed to influence us. When we already had more paperwork than ever, and when many members were still struggling to get to grips with that, the arrival of even more reading matter just left many of us feeling confused – which was, maybe, why these things were sent or issued. I was elected as a member by my diocese and I shall stick with the task as long as the electors want me to represent them, but after many hours in the chamber I think I’m entitled to ask that basic question: what’s the point? When I am asked to give talks on how Synod works, I often suggest that the real question should be ‘Does Synod work?’ Here I am going to be as frank as possible about how I am feeling over all this.

Synod certainly has its moments. I have met some wonderful people committed to serving God in many walks of life. I’ve heard their stories. In the margins, in the tea room and the other seating areas, there are conversations in which we hear about each other’s churches, share ideas and experiences, and offer each other care. This is all rewarding but it’s not what we are there for.

General Synod is a legislative body. So, of course, we legislate. That means going through the various stages of Measures, in committees and in full Synod. We are also able to speak into the culture in which we are set, which is why we sometimes have debates on issues of actual relevance to the wider society which, as the Established Church, we are supposed to care about and serve. And we are there to consider changes in policy, and to direct the various bodies in the church to do things. Various business also comes to us from assorted church bodies, filtered through the Business Committee which tries to create a balanced and timely agenda. This time around, we had an excellent debate on Father Alex Frost’s Private Member’s Motion on working-class vocations and training (I declare an interest – I was one of the team that worked on this, which is why I was up on the platform next to Alex taking notes). That, of course, came from a member. An example of something which came from a church body would be the debate on sports and wellbeing ministry, in which I spoke and on which I have blogged on Via Media. The obsession with numbers, and with developing a ‘thing’ called sports and wellbeing ministry, was something I found disturbing, so I spoke about a simple initiative a local vicar has set up in his church as a response to his congregation and their lives.

Above all, and rightly after the long-awaited release of the Makin Report, this was the ‘safeguarding synod’. I have written separately about the Makin Report debate and the later, main debate on which option to adopt for safeguarding going forward. Other items at this Synod were relevant to this, not least the Clergy Conduct Measure.

This also turned out to be the Crown Nominations Commission (CNC) synod: topical, because of course we’ve recently heard claims about how the last Liverpool CNC was run; we have the process to find the next Archbishop of Canterbury coming up; and two diocesan CNCs, Ely and Carlisle, have recently failed to decide on an appointment. CNC came up three times in the agenda: in a Report from the CNC about its work, then in a sequence of amendments to the relevant standing orders – some suggested by the bishops, others coming from members of CNCs – and in a further debate on the regulations for the Vacancy in See Committee. Each diocese has such a committee, a mixture of ex officio and elected members, and their number elects the six who will go forward to the CNC when their diocese is looking for a new bishop.

Those different CNC moments on the agenda demonstrated very clearly that everything – and I mean everything – has now become infused with the tensions around Living in Love and Faith (LLF), and whether the faithful relationships of gay and lesbian Christians are to be welcomed. The LLF item on Synod was a presentation with questions, because there is yet more delay, with more theology requested and the message being that this can’t possibly be done quickly because, to quote Bishop Robert, theologians are being asked to work with “shorter timetables than they feel comfortable with”. Right… And are lesbian and gay members of our church “comfortable”, as they wonder where the “radical new Christian inclusion” they were promised in 2017 has gone? The CNC moments also showed how the interweaving of even more elements – lack of trust in the bishops and in the archbishop(s) and continued unhappiness with the position of women in the church – makes the mixture even more explosive. This time around, those elements were intertwined with the other key issue: should Stephen Cottrell remain as Archbishop of York (ABY)? All of this, every bit of it, was connected. 

It is clear, not least from Ian Paul’s blog which came out in the flurry of pieces published at the start of Synod week, that conservatives regard Stephen Cottrell as a ‘false teacher’, because he supports blessings for people in committed, faithful, same-sex relationships. So they want him out. No Archbishops at all; an interesting situation. How would that work? Ian Paul stated clearly in this recent blog post that he would not share communion with Stephen Cottrell and had told him this in 2023, when it became clear that the Archbishop believes that sexual intimacy can take place in any relationship that is permanent, faithful and stable. When the ABY presided at the Eucharist before one of the days of Synod business, the most prominent conservatives were not in the room. They missed a very beautiful and moving service, a real highlight of the week for me, including an address by the Acting Primate of Canada, Archbishop Anne Germon. Such boycotts had become the norm with the former Archbishop of Canterbury, too. I hate such weaponizing of the Eucharist.

But the ABY is also the person who led the CNC which recommended John Perumbalath as Bishop of Liverpool, so an attack on that particular CNC process becomes ammunition in the attempts to make him resign too. A member of the Liverpool CNC had claimed that a woman on that CNC reported feeling coerced by the ABY when he made the CNC vote one more time when they could not reach a 10 out of 14 majority vote. That’s an odd claim, when one of the few things those of us who have never been on a CNC know about these meetings is that they often don’t make up their minds on the first vote. And John Perumbalath was then accused of sexual abuse of a woman and of harassment of a woman bishop, although nothing has been properly investigated so it’s impossible to know what to believe. 

This is all related to various of the proposed amendments to the standing orders governing CNCs which were before us at this Synod. One such amendment would give the Archbishop chairing the CNC an extra vote if the majority was not reached; so, this was a great time to suggest that Archbishops can’t be trusted. Another suggestion was that the secret ballot should be abandoned. Unlike any other appointments process I have encountered, on a CNC members’ votes are secret. Actually the whole process of a CNC, from who is on the shortlist to all the discussions within the meetings and the voting itself, is confidential. Members agree to this arrangement, which is why it was odd to have claims suddenly emerge (conveniently just before Synod met) not only that there was coercion on members of the panel but also that there were concerns at the CNC about John Perumbalath’s own safeguarding record.

In an interesting twist, Ian Paul had put in a Question to the 10 February Questions session of Synod about whistleblowing on the CNCs (Question 37 here). The answer was that there isn’t a whistleblowing policy for CNCs, although one will now be considered. But the deadline for submitting Questions was noon on 28 January, and the claims about coercion at the Liverpool CNC did not enter the public domain until after that, in the Channel 4 News piece at 7 pm. There’s probably an innocent explanation for this apparent coincidence.  

In the febrile days before and during the February Synod, the unproven claims about coercion of a woman on the Liverpool CNC combined with revisiting the David Tudor case made the ABY into someone who did not respect women, including ordained women, and led to a pile-in against him from women. I heard of various plans to boycott his Presidential Address; not to go in, or to enter but then to walk out of the chamber; to stand with one’s back towards him; to wear blue and sing the Magnificat; and so on. These plans eventually morphed into ‘wear a blue ribbon’ and of course the ABY wore one too. And we had some extra prayers in the middle of the Address, led by three different women, which felt rather odd as there was also time for prayer before it. 

Women scorned; women honoured… Women who have experienced being belittled, harassed and abused, whether that was the build-up of microaggressions to which the Bishop of London powerfully bore witness in one of her speeches, or a single shocking incident, came together with those who don’t trust ‘the bishops’.

One of the most contested suggestions brought to Friday’s debate on Vacancy in See Committee standing order changes proposed that those filling the six elected diocesan places on any CNC should include at least one lay and one ordained woman. While we heard that, since 2017, 25%  of CNCs included not a single ordained women among their members from the diocese (although they all included male priests), in Synod women from the conservative tradition said that introducing this change would be an insult and they didn’t need it. A prominent conservative man said that we should trust the democratic process; but one of the GMH coopted members, in a moving speech, asked why in that case we had agreed to coopt him as a response to our overwhelming whiteness? Was he just a token? Synod agreed to retain the proposed requirement for two places to be reserved for women, voting in favour in all three Houses.

Ah yes, votes by Houses: if you don’t want something to pass, you call for a counted vote by Houses. So, here, it was the conservatives wanting the vote by Houses. Such a vote makes it harder to win because you need a majority in every one of the three Houses and the House of Laity, in particular, tends to vote in a different way to the Clergy and Bishops. It’s a game, it’s allowed in the rules, and that’s all one can say. If you strongly think something should or shouldn’t happen, then you play it. But – hallelujah – all three Houses supported these reserved places for women among the diocesan reps.

The resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury after the publication of the Makin Report was finally achieved by an interesting alliance of the conservative Ian Paul, the liberal Robert Thompson and Save the Parish’s founder Marcus Walker: three male priests often working according to very different agendas, but united here by wanting the Archbishop out, for their own reasons. What we saw last week was a more complicated alliance, bringing in the issues around accepting or rejecting the full ministry of women. One speech made the point that recent CNCs have led to the appointment of more women; but others would note that those tend to be conservative women who are opposed to lesbian and gay inclusion. It’s complicated, and it will go on being complicated as alliances form and shift. 

Most depressing of all was a rumour that, in the main safeguarding debate, conservatives had been told to vote against the fully independent Option 4 because it could impose conditions they did not want to meet. Maybe it is just a rumour, but even the fact that it was circulating tells you everything you need to know about the lack of trust we still experience. At one of the zoom briefings I attended, a question was asked about whether the group chosen to run safeguarding if this Option was adopted would be ‘Christian’, and the answer given was that this would not be one of the criteria used. While knowledge of the church is obviously needed, Christian faith is not. That then plays into the view that we don’t want the values of the evil World being applied in the Church; Bishop Julie commented on this in a speech in which she said “We need to listen to God’s wisdom at work in the world”. I’ve also heard it said that we need to follow ‘Biblical standards of safeguarding’, whatever those are supposed to be. That is alarming when you remember that the prolific abuser John Smyth quoted the verses from Proverbs about fathers disciplining their children, and put himself in the position of a replacement father. One of the other effects of all those counted votes and votes by Houses is that the names of those voting each way will become public soon; unless, of course, they choose not to vote at all rather than show their electors what they think.

It’s a mess; it’s performative (something on which I agree with Ian Paul, and on which I even shook hands with him last week); so is there a point to Synod? Are we deluding ourselves when we see what we are doing as God-breathed in some way? With difficult and contested questions there will always be a plea for a short period of reflection or prayer before voting. We had that again last week and, as usual, it did nothing to make anyone more likely to accept the result of the vote. If we ‘win’ we give God the credit: if we ‘lose’ we blame the ‘opposition’. It’s rather like war, with each of the opposing forces claiming God is on their ‘side’. Are we a good advertisement for our faith? I do wonder whether Synod is finally broken.

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About fluff35

I blog on a range of subjects arising from various aspects of my life. On https://theretiringacademic.wordpress.com, I focus on my reactions to early retirement and think about aspects of teaching and research which I hope will be stimulating to those still working in higher education. On https://shared-conversations.com, I blog as an authorized lay preacher in a pretty standard parish church of the Church of England, who needs to write in order to find out what she thinks. I took part in the Oxford/St Albans/Armed Forces C of E 'Shared Conversations' in March 2016, worked on the Living in Love and Faith resources from 2017 and was elected to General Synod in October 2021, and continue to try to reflect on some of the issues. On https://mistakinghistories.wordpress.com I share my thoughts on various aspects of the history of medicine and the body. I have also written for The Conversation UK on https://theconversation.com/profiles/helen-king-94923/articles
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4 Responses to Living in parched places: February 2025 General Synod

  1. Thank you for your comments. And even more for your patient forbearance, though I have noticed in some comments by visitors unused to GS that they thought it was extraordinarily polite and attentive, in fact, just what they thought an Anglican body should be.

    Like you I deplore the weaponisation of the Eucharist, which above all is Christ’s gift to us and in which, in the doing of it, is revealed our own incorporation, individually and collectively, into the mystery of his death and resurrection. It is the last place where performative self-righteousness, whether tribal or personal, can ever be the right approach. Supremely, we come in brokenness and penitence as a humbled church believing that in our action together we may find, not only the peace and forgiveness we crave, but new strength to rise with Christ together.

    The move that makes the Eucharist a reward for “right thinking” is a deeply un Anglican one, and in its mistakenness explains why some people find other bodies so difficult; women’s bodies, especially ordained and consecrated women; LGBTQ+ people, who have been told time without number that they are not a problem, but whose experience in LLF comes down more and more to the plain fact that we are the problem for a vocal and powerful minority; and survivors of church sexual abuse, whose bodies, used by the powerful, stand as a reproach to us all – a reproach so devastating that the nearer people approach to being powerful the more they seem incapable of responding in what we might call a ‘Eucharistic’ way.

    I suspect that survivors are, for some, a particularly unbearable category for two reasons: first, they are a never-ending reminder of the power and presence of sex, bodies and desire – all glorious gifts of God, but fraught, as we know in our own lives, with the capacity to go wrong and to become sites of wounding, selfishness and betrayal. Mostly we manage these things in privacy, and can hide our shame as well as our ecstasy. But survivors are a living embodiment of our collective failure in this area, and paying them proper attention, or becoming, as they say these days, a trauma-informed church, is too much for some, and especially some of the guarders of the collective image of our church. Secondly, I think survivors suffer from being a standing rebuke to a church that has succumbed to the cult of celebrity. There are plenty of examples of ‘ordinary’ horrifying clergy abusers, but because of the way adulation and exaggerated respect has been given to some very well-known men (sic.), survivors are an uncomfortable reminder of how the whole church has been complicit in this abuse by being too trusting, too groomable, too shallow and too careless. Rather than face our own sinfulness and shortcomings we succumb in some parts of the church to victim blaming.

    What is particularly and very painfully and publicly the case with victims and survivors is, I would suggest, also the case with women and with LGBTQ+ people. So ingrained is misogyny in some parts of church culture that we do not even see it – what the Bishop of London described politely as micro-aggressions are often straightforwardly insulting or patronising. And the homophobia that swirls around the institution, laced with fear as a pink gin is with bitters, is cloaked in pious language so that we all understand how grateful to God we are that we are not like ‘those people’.

    I have no idea how the tribalism and mistrust are to be overcome, though I suspect the answers lie in the nature of what it means to be in Christ, and not through programmes and principles that, however well-meant, focus us on our tribal turf wars and divisions. To find another way would be both miraculous and challenging to our present conciliar mechanisms, which seem badly skewed in terms of how well they represent the church in the parishes.

    Meanwhile, the delays and diminutions of what LLF offers LGBT+ people, while nothing compared to the anguish of survivors seem to go on and on with no end in sight. The theological work does not appear to have anything to offer people like me, and is, as far as I can tell, focused entirely on other people who already enjoy all the rights, privileges and appurtenances of living and ministering in the Church. The shift of focus alone ought to ring an alarm bell. But it doesn’t. And that tells you that we are a problem again.

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    • fluff35's avatar fluff35 says:

      Thank you Jeremy for this eloquent analysis. I agree, it comes down to bodies and to those of us whose bodies, for whatever reason, aren’t considered adequate

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  2. Ian Paul's avatar Ian Paul says:

    Dear Helen, thanks for your reflections. I wondered whether I should be flattered or worried that I get so many mentions! A couple of observations/points/clarifications.

    1. I am not out of Communion with Stephen Cottrell because ‘the Archbishop believes that sexual intimacy can take place in any relationship that is permanent, faithful and stable’. I am out of communion with him because he unilaterally declared that that is what ‘we’ believe, which contradicts the doctrine of Christ as the C of E has received it, and which he annually vows to uphold and teach. ‘We’ don’t believe that, and it is dishonest to claim so. (Is there nothing which for you would break communion—really?)

    2. On my blog, I say in effect ‘Stephen has been dishonest on LLF; look at all the other examples where he has been dishonest’. I find it odd that you interpret this as saying ‘Because of LLF, let’s find other reasons to get rid of him.’ Yes, three very different people agreed that Justin would go—but I think for all of us the one thing we could agree on was that safeguarding mattered, and Justin was an impediment to that. Can you take this claim on face value?

    3. I had been aware for quite some time that some members of CNC were deeply concerned about coercion and bias, hence my question about whistleblowing; I commented on this back in November in relation to Justin Welby. It has been something of an open secret for some while.

    4. The people I spoke to who did not want option 4 did not want it for the same reasons I did not want it, which I set out in my other blog post on Synod that week: because all the independent commentators believe it is unworkable. I think you are right to see the distortion here of other issues.

    5. But if Synod has become so divided, and everything has become a proxy for LLF, why is that? As far as I can see, it is in large part because those who want change have continued to pile on the pressure for that to happen, even if it will destroy everything and break the Church—they seem think that that is worth it (do you?). So we have had secret meetings of the HoB, dishonesty in their own discussions and reports about them, the hiding of legal advice, and the pressing of claims without proper explanation. Tim Wyatt was quite right to comment on his substack:

    ‘The PLF have been done backwards, in truth. The bishops decided first what they wanted to do – introduce gay blessings but not change marriage doctrine – and only belatedly realised they should probably also look into whether this was theologically coherent. Any sensible good faith process would do it in reverse: ask your probing theological questions, build a clear foundation of what we think, and only then do we start working on a practical policy to implement. 

    This is why so many of the conservatives have lost any faith in the bishops over the past few years. It’s so blindingly obvious things have been done backwards, that the difficult theological questions have not been asked or explored, that most conclude it was not cock-up but conspiracy. That the bishops didn’t simply forget to check in with FAOC whether their generational flagship reform was theologically sound, they deliberately chose not to ask questions they worried they wouldn’t like the answers of.’

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    • fluff35's avatar fluff35 says:

      Well, Ian, you get so many mentions because you seem to be the key player in urging resignations…

      I’ve reflected deeply and no, there is nothing for which I would break communion. I wonder, if it was ‘merely’ that ++Stephen’s personal view was as stated, without the we’, would that in your opinion be grounds for making him a false teacher and not receiving communion from him?

      On your (2), I am surprised by that ‘would’ – ‘that Justin would go’. I’d have expected ‘should’. ‘Would’ suggests more power than I’d expect you to be claiming.

      On (3), open secrets; well, open to some, maybe. It is not something that I had ever heard.

      I find it odd that bishops are supposed to ‘check in with FAOC’ (most of whom are themselves bishops). ‘Destroy everything’ seems unnecessarily strong language and I wonder if that was also used in the divorce debates, the ordination of women debates, the consecration of women bishops debates – because these seem to me to have been far more significant than what’s on the table now.

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