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by Christina Rees
adapted from Voices of the Calling, edited by
Christina Rees.
Published by Canterbury Press, Norwich, 2002, pp.
3-30.
In
the Assembly Hall in Church House, Westminster on Wednesday, 11 November 1992,
there is a tense hush. Synod members have returned to their seats after voting
by walking through different doors. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr George
Carey, is in the Chair. He clears his throat and asks the Synod to listen to
the results of the voting in silence. It is nearly 5:00pm. He reads:
‘House of Bishops, Ayes 39, Noes 13; House of Clergy, Ayes 176, Noes 74.;
House of Laity, Ayes 169, Noes 82. There being the required number of votes in
each House, I declare the motion carried.’
Up in
the press gallery there is a muffled squeak: a female journalist throws her
arms around a Synod member who is standing by to be interviewed by the BBC. A
frisson of excitement runs through the vast room. Unknown to Synod members, the
news has reached the crowds gathered ‘Outside in Dean’s Yard, and
there people cheer and burst into tears and singing. Inside, the Archbishop of
York calmly takes the Chair, and business continues, with voting on various
Amending Canons and on the Financial Provisions contained in the Measure. It
has happened: history has been made. Women will be priests in the Church of
England.
Ten
years after that decisive vote in General Synod is a good time to reflect on
the past decade, and to hear from some of the women who went on to become
priests. Some of the first women priests were members of that Synod and cast
their votes that day. Others were in Dean’s Yard surrounded by the group
of jubilant supporters. Some listened to the result on radio, or watched it
later on the television news. All had been waiting, some for many years, and
they knew their lives would be changed, one way or the other, by the outcome of
the vote.
Overall, not just those in the Church, but many others across the country
celebrated. The Church was alive after all! It could follow the leading of the
Holy Spirit. It was relevant. It could change. It valued women.
It is
perhaps this last point that took so many, inside and outside the Church,
believers and agnostics, by surprise. Women who had not been into a church
since childhood, broke down and wept. Men, upon hearing the news, choked up,
overcome. Inevitably traditionalists in the Church felt dismay, but many others
felt extreme joy, a sense of new possibilities, of hope, of something deep and
profound that had been realigned. Women, especially, tell of a new sense of
feeling accepted, of feeling affirmed - a sense of worth. The Church could
bring - and be good news.
The
year before the vote Monica Furlong wrote a book about women and power in the
Church. She observed that ‘most of us began the campaign with fairly
simple ideas about what it was we were trying to do, and only gradually
perceived the enormity of it. Attempting modestly to catch a small fish that
is, to get women ordained -we were astounded to discover that we had got
Leviathan at the end of the line, that unwittingly we had reached into the very
depths of the malaise not merely of the Church but of society
itself’(Monica Furlong, A Dangerous Delight, SPCK 1991, p. 11 ). I
am very aware, as are many of the contributors to this book, that we are still
discovering the true nature of that Leviathan.
Almost exactly a year to the day after the vote on women priests, General Synod
passed an Act of Synod that is without historical precedent. The Act allowed
for the creation of a new kind of ecclesiastical creature - the flying bishop.
These men would be deployed to provide episcopal support and pastoral care for
clergy and laity who could not accept such care from their own bishops. They
would be a pastoral extension of the diocesan bishop. These special bishops
were to be known officially as PEVs, Provincial Episcopal Visitors, visiting
with the permission and blessing of the diocesan bishops in both provinces of
the Church of England.
Further, PCCs could vote to place their parishes in the care of a PEV under a
new resolution, Resolution C. The two Resolutions, A and B, in the Women
Priests Measure did not provide enough ‘safeguards’ for some of those
opposed to women’s ordination. It was not enough to be able to refuse to
have a visiting woman celebrant or a woman incumbent; a new Act was needed to
ensure that traditionalist clergy would not have to minister alongside a bishop
who was in favour of women priests, and who may have laid hands on a woman to
ordain her, thus becoming ‘tainted’ with irregularity.
Very
quickly, bad practice flourished in new ways under the Act. A woman priest was
offered a post in a parish, only to be telephoned three days later by the
bishop and told that she ‘hadn’t got the job because the church
warden wouldn’t work with a woman’. The convictions of one opposing
church warden were permitted to overturn the decision of the parish as a whole.
Would this have happened with no Act of Synod? A retired priest refused to take
a service at a nearby church because a woman had celebrated at the altar. Would
this have been catered for without the Act of Synod? In one diocese, the bishop
gave permission to traditionalist clergy to conduct their own services at the
diocesan clergy conference, an event supposedly designed to bring the clergy of
the diocese together for thought, prayer and worship. In another diocese, a
male priest was approved unanimously by a multi-parish benefice that included a
traditionalist parish, only to be asked at the last moment not to take up the
post because one of the flying bishops had alerted the parish that the man was
not opposed to women priests. There are many other similar tales.
I
wrote in my submission to the Review Group set up to see how the Act was
working, that, in spite of all these stories, ‘if I were to name what I
believe is the greatest harm done by the Act, it would be the creation of a new
climate in which it was felt to be permissible to discriminate openly against
women and to voice clear prejudice against women. Much of the ministry of the
flying bishops is a tacit acknowledgement that the Church of England still
colludes with a debased view of women.’
Not
only does the Act provide for ‘pure’ hands to minister to those who
do not accept the priestly ministry of women, it has also developed into
providing untainted hands for those who do not accept the ministry of male
bishops who ordain and work with female colleagues. Judith Maltby comments in
her chapter in Act o f Synod - Act o f Folly? ‘at no point in our
history has the endorsement of comprehensiveness ever resulted in the creation
of an extended or alternative episcopal system’ (Monica Furlong, Act o
f Synod - Act o f Folly?, SCM Press 1998, p. 51 ). Judith goes on to
observe that ‘your bishop can deny the resurrection, the Trinity, and the
incarnation; he may be a racist, liar or thief - but no one will offer you a
PEV. But if he ordains a woman to the priesthood, you can call in a “safe
pair of hands”’ (Act o f Synod -Act of Folly?, p. 56).
The
Review Group, chaired by the Bishop of Blackburn, produced its Report in 2000,
to be debated in Synod in July. News leaked that the bishops themselves had
rejected a first report as being too much of a whitewash. The Report that
emerged was still a whitewash: almost all critical references to the Act had
been expunged. The hundreds of letters sent in describing discrimination and
bad practice had vanished from the final Report. Anyone new to the scene who
read the Report would have come away with the distinct impression that the Act
was a jolly good thing doing sterling work in keeping the Church together
following women’s ordinations. The only really beneficial effect the
Report had was to debunk the use of the phrase, the ‘two
integrities’. People could hold differing views about women with
integrity, but, of course, it was a nonsense to speak of ‘two
integrities’. Apart from that helpful clarification, very little else
described the true attitude towards the Act. The tone of the Report and its
implicit editorial stance suggested a Church that was reluctant to accept
women’s priestly ministry.
The
Revd Valerie Bonham, speaking in the debate on the Report in General Synod,
voiced her concern. ‘Now we are being called into question, not just by
those who in conscience cannot accept our ministry but by those very bishops
who have encouraged us, affirmed us and ordained us . . . That is incredibly
undermining, not only of us as priests in the Church of God but of us as human
beings made in the image of God’ (Report of Proceedings 31/2, P. 1 18).
When
Dr Helen Thorne wrote up her study of the first women priests in the Church of
England, she concluded that the Act of Synod is deeply harmful to women on a
practical, emotional and spiritual level. The Act of Synod, and the provision
of alternative Episcopal oversight, are offensive to women because they
legitimise women’s exclusion and create a form of sexual apartheid by
creating areas in the Church where women’s ministry is unacceptable.
Emotionally, women are damaged by the constant sense of rejection, unworthiness
and the abusive behaviour that the Act can generate. Spiritually, the Act
fosters a theology of ‘taint’ whereby a man’s ministry is made
void through his association with a woman priest In a binary, dualistic view of
sexual difference, the Act legitimises male spirituality, whilst it denies
women’s acceptability before God and denigrates their ministry . . . The
Church cannot maintain its theological integrity, nor can it be a credible
voice in society if it fails to rid itself of this divisive legislation. (Helen
Thorne, journey to Priesthood, CCSRG Monograph Series 3, Department of
Theology and Religious Studies, University of Bristol, 2000
Nerissa Jones and others make the point that by ordaining women the Church sent
the message that it stopped thinking of women as lesser creatures. Ordination
is not, and should not be, necessary to determine or affirm the goodness of men
or of women, but by ordaining women there was the strong sense that women were
being affirmed and accepted as women in a new way.
The
dissonance between the theologians and the holy men of their day who
contributed valuable thinking to the developing understanding of the Christian
faith, but who, at the same time, produced comments about women which revealed
a debased attitude towards half the human race. Inability to distinguish
between Christian teaching and doctrine and culturally determined views has
produced a faith that, so often and in so many places, implies a view of women
human beings as lesser than male human beings.
The
typical response I get as I travel around England speaking to a wide variety of
groups, organizations and institutions is one of outrage: how dare women be
treated in such a way! How dare the women and those who believe that women
should share in the ordained priesthood put up with it! How dare the Church get
away with such demeaning and discriminating behaviour!
After
one lecture at a university, during the discussion time, a young woman in the
audience kept on asking questions, the type of raw questions that I, and most
people who have worked in and around the Church for some time, have ceased to
ask. It was refreshing and somewhat shaming to realize how much we now accept,
and how appalling and unacceptable it all seems to someone who has not been
enculturated into the Church of England.
Even
when I speak at theological colleges to people who, one might suppose, should
know more about the Church than most, I often encounter an uncomprehending
audience once they hear of the Act of Synod, the Financial Provisions in the
Women Priests Measure, and even Resolutions A and B.
The
next step, ordaining women as bishops will be a sign to the Church and the rest
of society, and do not think that society is not watching and waiting for such
a sign, that women are valued as much as men are valued. Of course, it will be
perhaps another generation or two before women are deployed primarily for their
gifts and experience, without a disproportionately heightened awareness of
their sex.
We
need to think carefully about what we want. Do we want a church that has
females doing what males have been doing for centuries, or a church that is
willing to become something new as it incorporates a fuller humanity, a more
well-rounded perspective and experience?
In
time, the concept of a God who we say we believe is neither male nor female,
and who we say we believe includes both our femininity and masculinity, will be
more genuinely understood and accepted. The strong resistance to, even fear of,
inclusive language should moderate over time as people see women presiding at
the Eucharist, taking part in Maundy Thursday footwashing services, and in all
the other roles traditionally taken only by men.
Ann
Nickson experienced a moment of insight as she took the role of Jesus for the
long Palm Sunday reading from St Matthew’s Gospel. ‘As a woman,
reading those words of Jesus, suddenly I understood for the first time why the
thought of a woman at the altar is so problematic for some; at the same time I
realized why it was so important, not just for women, but for all human beings,
that a woman should stand before God at the altar. That because Christ shared
our common humanity as women and men, because his cry of forsakenness sums up
the cries of all the God-forsaken men, women and children throughout the world
and throughout the ages, that same common humanity as women and men should be
presented to God in the Eucharist.’
Women
will have to continue to stand against the particular demons that attack the
feminine in this culture: low self-esteem, the necessity of being
‘nice’ above all else, of being pliant, always accommodating,
self-effacing. Women are already having to get accustomed to being considered
unreasonable when they stick up for themselves or for their ideas, of being
called overbearing when they take an equally active part in discussions and
meetings with their male colleagues, and of being considered hard when they
respond to situations and people with a degree of firmness and decisiveness.
Christine Farrington recounts the story of receiving an Easter card this year
from her suffragan bishop with a cartoon of five men and one woman seated
around a table during a meeting. The chairman is speaking: ‘That’s an
excellent suggestion, Miss Triggs. Perhaps one of the men here would like to
make it.’ Christine comments that the fact that her bishop could send her
such a card gave her great hope!
One
woman priest I know, very senior in her diocese, was having a private,
professional conversation with her bishop about two other ordained women in the
diocese who were in danger of falling out with each other. During the course of
the conversation, the bishop became visibly irritated with having to deal with
the particular pastoral issues between the two clergy. He burst out,
‘People wanted women ordained, and this is what we get!’
With
so many men it seems to be a head-heart divide. Bishops who ordain women and
other male priests who are supposedly in favour of women’s ordinations, do
strange things like appoint a ‘Forward in Faith’ Diocesan Director of
Ordinands, or ask women not to touch a certain man during an ordination
service, for fear of ‘taint’, or collude with a whole list of
discourteous, offensive and harmful behaviour. The weaker sex, it seems, is
routinely expected by the Church to shoulder much greater burdens of
discrimination and bad treatment, while showing a much greater ability to
forgive, absorb, build bridges and rise above such treatment. In short, women
are expected and are relied upon to exhibit much greater personal, spiritual
and psychological strength.
John
Saxbee reflects that ‘perhaps we will only be fully a whole and healthy
church when a woman priest can go ill, or astray, or slightly dotty without
women’s ministry as a whole being thereby diminished - as if male clergy
didn’t just occasionally fall victim to these all too human
experiences!’
In
the wake of the Stephen Lawrence inquiry, the Church began to tackle its own
racism. The then Bishop of Stepney, John Sentamu, now Bishop of Birmingham, was
an advisor for the Stephen Lawrence Inquiry, and he presented a report to the
General Synod. The Church admitted that it was institutionally rascist, and put
into action a programme of racism awareness training, starting with the
Archbishops’ Council. Some of the questions asked in regard to the Church
and racism are also relevant when asked about women.
Is
the Church a place of haven for women? Is the Church modelling best practice in
treating women with respect and honour? Is it including women at every level of
its life? I believe that the Church will have to undergo a similar programme of
gender awareness training if we are to combat effectively the insidious and
pernicious presence of sexism still active in our Church.
Eradicating sexism will bring a new experience of wholeness to both women and
men. Rosalind Brown makes the point that by having women priests there is
already a new dimension for the people of God. ‘We can forget that the
ordination of women gives a reciprocal gift to men: the gift that was
previously exclusive to women of receiving priestly ministry from people of the
other gender.’
In
contrast to the walls imagined by Peter Geldard, precious walls destroyed by
ordaining women, Philippa Boardman reminds us of the radical inclusivity in the
book of Acts, an inclusivity that transcended walls of division. The ordination
of women has already broken down some walls that divided people, and
women’s priestly ministry has begun to draw in many who had previously
felt themselves excluded by the Church.
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