by Paul Devonshire
The following narrative which has been sent to Surviving Church helps us to understand why the Clergy Discipline Measure is not fit for purpose. Somewhere in this story old fashioned common-sense disappeared from the process and the disputants became locked in a nightmare of forms, statements and totally inappropriate tools for reconciliation and understanding. When such events take place we have a recipe for appalling dysfunction and unhappiness within a Church. There must be a better way of allowing justice to flow and furthering the promotion of healing within a Church congregation .
Following an impasse with my local incumbent back in 2013, I put my grievances before the diocesan bishop in a letter. In his opinion, but without stating reasons, these did not amount to being complaint-worthy, and he referred me to the archdeacon. I met with him together with my wife. He said that, because he would be involved in the event of any formal complaint, he was not free to comment. I explained that I did not seek the man’s dismissal, just the situation resolved to some mutual satisfaction. I received no notes following this meeting. This meeting was to prove the last face-to-face contact with anyone from the diocese.
Feeling there was no intention to mediate, I put in a formal complaint, itemising the relevant behaviour matching them with examples of bullying behaviour in the diocesan Guidelines on bullying. In the absence of a complaints procedure in the diocese, the bishop decided to use the CDM. I was given no information about the process. I used the format available on the website, but was then told I had not used the correct form. Thinking there was a national form, I approached Church House, Westminster, only to be told that each diocese had their own. My original format was then accepted. Hearing nothing within the timescale, I did some progress chasing only to be told that the bishop’s secretary had mislaid it. With precipitous haste, I received a report prepared by the diocesan solicitor headed ‘draft report’. The matter had now been delegated to a suffragan bishop who accepted the defence made in the report. This was that, since the incumbent had not contravened the “laws ecclesiastical”, the case could be dismissed.
My examples of untoward behaviour were not considered bullying since not repetitive. My allegations of lying and deceitfulness were ignored. There was no comment on any of the incumbent’s behaviour, therefore no comment on whether it is reasonable to withhold access to a churchyard mower or prohibit someone from reading in church without telling them why and for how long. The failure to negotiate a compromise on the former meant that the church had to employ commercial contractors rather than have unpaid volunteers. The latter involved secrecy, insincerity and an ill use of power. This I found particularly distasteful and upsetting. The process allowed no challenge to this report save by going to review. (There was no tribunal setting with involved parties present.)
The result of this was that, since the process had been conducted legally, the decision should stand. When informing me of this, the suffragan bishop indicated that there would be no further correspondence on the issue. The judge had opined that the behaviours were not inherently of a bullying nature but when I enquired how he would describe them, he did not reply. In pursuing his advice with regard mediation, I was informed by the suffragan bishop that the incumbent was “incapable of engaging positively in mediation”. When I wrote to the diocesan bishop, all he advocated was “apostolic engagement”, by which arcane expression, I discovered, he meant taking Holy Communion. Since this CDM process was conducted entirely via correspondence, it allowed the arguments I advanced to go unaddressed in the responses.
I felt I was not being treated honourably and with respect, but that people were playing games to ensure I would not win.. I came to realise that the polity of the Church of England at every level is totalitarian in form, such regimes relying on judicial collusion to persist. Having successfully taken things away from me, the incumbent then took away the editorship of the church magazine from my wife. This she had done successfully over many years as well has having been a churchwarden. This violent, vindictive and predictable act was achieved by placing a confidential item on the PCC agenda. There was no prior warning or negotiation with my wife. When informed, by letter, my wife wrote asking to meet with members of the PCC to put her case. This was rejected. In essence, it was a kangaroo court. Had this been a commercial situation, this would have counted as constructive dismissal under employment legislation, such protection being unavailable in a voluntary capacity.
Informed by a parishioner that the archdeacon had advised the PCC not to respond, I challenged the archdeacon in a letter. He failed to address the issue. Given my earlier experience, my wife considered any formal complaint as futile and pursued none. Instead, after canvassing the village for support, she inaugurated an alternative self-financing magazine which has run successfully for the last seven years. The lack of face-to-face engagement and failure to address points made during this process shows scant regard for human relationships and the commandment to love one’s neighbour. There was no consideration of negotiation, no suggestion from the diocese of mediation.
I have concluded that church communities are in fact faux communities, happy to exclude those with ideas at odds with the clergy. They are not safe places. The choice of CDM and everything subsequent was imposed on me without consultation. It was applied incompetently and without compassion. There was no evidence of “justice rolling like a stream”, and, considering the deceit and dishonesty, little display of righteousness. The CDM, with its absence of cross-examination, provided little protection. There was a sense of a lazy expediency and short-termism. There was no attempt made to reach a mutual understanding of the situation that might have avoided negative longer-term consequences. The prescription of ‘apostolic engagement’, rather than exercising intellectual effort, suggests easy grace, magical thinking and anti-intellectualism. There was no attempt to assess any personal effect events were having on me and my wife. I continue with a conditioned response to dog collars that is wholly negative. I am now fully aware of the destructive nature of narcissism, for which occupational hazard the church has no apparent checks and balances.
Many thanks for this perspective from a complainant. We have also recent had a perspective from the target of a complaint. What is disconcerting about this piece is its suggestion that even if the CDM process is worse than useless (as any fule kno), any form of alternative disciplinary process would be almost as worthless.
This is because, whatever the rules might be, they are only as good as the people who administer them. I have recently been going back to the works of Robert A. Caro (on Robert Moses and LBJ) and his motto is not merely that power corrupts (as per Acton), but that ‘power reveals’. What all of the pieces on the subject of CDMs and other forms of abuse ‘reveal’ is an ecclesiastical culture that is inherently compromised: constantly falling foul of its innate human inability to live up to its unattainably lofty ideals, making the discredit into which it inevitably falls, all the more painful, sordid and embarrassing.
I think Trollope noted (was it a propos the crime of Josiah Crawley?) that there is no difference between the clergy and anyone else in society, save that clergymen happen to be clergymen. In short, that it should not be expected that the clergy should behave any less venally, opportunistically or criminally than any of the laity, orders or no orders.
That being so, is there not a case for stripping the clerical authorities of their own disciplinary powers (save perhaps with respect to doctrine) and vesting it in laity who are not the paid proxies of the system they are supposed to judge?
Mr Devonshire also uses the striking phrase “There was a sense of a lazy expediency and short-termism.” That, surely, is (or has become) our defining national characteristic?
Constructive dismissal is when someone actually resigns, but the former employer throws up their hands and says “Nothing to do with me, guv”. You have to go to court to show that you couldn’t do anything else. It sounds as though Paul’s wife suffered from unfair dismissal, which is usually easier to show. If of course you grant that volunteers should be similarly protected. Dreadful story. May I offer all my sympathy?
Yes, I’ve no experience of the CDM, but I have loads of stories of people’s being shabbily treated and the perpetrator’s not being stopped. Even though Bishop and Archdeacon knew and accepted it had happened.
Brilliant piece Paul, many thanks. You state the situation very clearly and in such an easy to understand way that it is hoped that even senior clergy may be able to understand it!
It is amazing how PCC’s will usually all unanimously fall into line with what senior clergy demand, ignoring and distancing from people they once had a relationship with, never stopping to question if this holds with their own moral and Christian ethics. This has also happened to me so I appreciate the solidarity of experience. I am so glad your wife was able to make a success of a parallel venture and did not just crumble under their bullying.
I agree that these situations feel like ‘games,’ which makes for very tiring progress as all actions have to be considered in light of what their next move might be and how that can be responded to. I often view it as a traumatic and extremely long game of chess.
How sad that a situation which could so easily have been resolved has resulted in long term bad feeling and loss of respect for the institution, why they can not seek more pro-active, holistic resolutions is beyond me.
All the best to you and your wife.
I wrote this a year ago to explore the impact that bullying in churches has on individuals and the church itself. Although it is not true, it is based on my own experiences and the stories other people have told me. Bullying is a huge problem for the church as there is no real means to address it and the effects ripple ever outwards as Paul’s account shows. It also seems unlikely that a new revised CDM will be able to deal with the issues any better. https://meristemweb.wordpress.com/2019/08/02/a-story-like-marias-an-exploration-of-bullying-in-churches-part-1/
THat’s a sad tale. And yes, it’s too common. I could supply anomie ro tales – as, I think, could most people who read this blog.The C of E has a real problem with bullying and doesn’t seem to recognise it, let alone know how to begin to tackle it.
Very well written, Sarah. Thank you.
Helpful last paragraph in your article, Paul. What a mess we are in! Thanks.
Not exactly CDM but I wonder how many experiences of Clergy leaving ministry share similar issues to Evan Cockshaw. Read with horror and concern for the Church’s care of it’s clergy. https://www.psephizo.com/life-ministry/what-happens-when-clergy-leave-ministry/
So sad. But not surprising.
I’ve had an experience similar to this in some regards. But dioceses differ. Chester Diocese was very supportive when I spent 10 years under siege in my vicarage and church – I couldn’t have asked for more. But York was dismal when I encountered entrenched opposition and a campaign of calumny and harassment in a parish there. The Archbishop’s pastoral adviser was very good, but senior clergy? No. The suffragan and archdeacon took no action. And when I sent for my clergy file a couple of years ago I discovered that lies had been told in senior staff meeting, to cover the back of a senior officer and present me in a bad light. That cost me a job I’d applied for, and my chance to move.
Incidentally the lack of pastoral care for clergy is not new.
When I was at Wycliffe Bp. David Jenkins, then at Durham, visited Oxford in early 1987. I took the chance to interview him for the college newspaper. Having heard that he was good at pastoral care, one of my questions was, ‘What do you say to people who are dying?’
His reply was that he hadn’t been with a dying person for many years – not since his days as chaplain at Queen’s College. Then he visited the college porter on his deathbed. He recounted that the porter said, ‘We don’t know, do we?’ And Jenkins replied, ‘No, we don’t know.’ The porter died hours later.
I was dumbfounded that in all the 20 + years between that occasion and my interview, Jenkins had never met with someone who was dying. Had none of his clergy or their families ever been diagnosed with a terminal illness? No lay colleagues? No friends, or anyone else he knew? That’s hard to believe.
Many thanks, Janet! That is a remarkable story, but I guess he would not necessarily have provided that sort of pastoral support when working as an academic at Oxford and Leeds.
What is really remarkable is that he had nothing to say to console the dying porter.
It seems to me that the porter was craving some sort of reassurance, not such a bleak and brief affirmation of the porter’s fear that upon dying he would merely dissolve into his constituent atoms and that that would be that. It rather suggests to me that Jenkins was being dishonest in drawing his stipend as a college chaplain. And if he retained those views as a bishop, it rather indicates to me that his naysayers were right all along. I mean, being a bishop presumably involves buying into the Christian package. Can one be an orthodox Christian and have no belief in the afterlife? If not, then what really is the difference between Christianity and, say, the philosophy of Lucretius? What, then, is the point of the Christian faith?
If that was the sort of response that one of the supposed ‘best’ of the episcopate could provide, then for all that his bleak response might be true, it is scarcely surprising that hardly anyone thinks Christianity is worth bothering with these days. I mean, why go to the trouble?
Jenkins’ spell as an academic at Queens was coterminous with his being chaplain there. So yes, he ought to have been undertaking pastoral work.
I too was shocked that he had nothing more positive to say to the dying porter. He did have the grace to say he felt he’d let the man down, but added that the porter’s widow had rung him later to say the visit had helped her husband.
My personal tutor’s comment on the interview was, ‘She didn’t have to give him very much rope for him to hang himself.’
Incidentally, my experiences of being with dying people have led to a firm conviction that there is an afterlife. I have twice sat with people who were looking into heaven as they died; and even with people who had no Christian experience or profession the sense of God’s presence is often palpable. Kubler-Ross’s research also indicates some ‘supernatural’ (for want of a better term) experience after – or at least at the time of – death. But possibly that research wasn’t available to Jenkins at the time.
Many thanks, Janet. And I suppose that he would have had a slightly larger stipend as he would not only have been a fellow (with a dividend) but also college chaplain.
The extent to which chaplain-fellows have provided pastoral support has been highly variable since they became the only fellows in orders. This is one of the reasons why a number of colleges no longer have any clergy on the fellowship, meaning that the role of the chaplain is now almost exclusively liturgical and pastoral (the main reason, of course, is that a number of colleges are either writing off theology or have lay fellows teaching the subject since the number of suitable academics in orders is now very small).
I am still shocked by this story. Almost as shocked as I am by reading of your treatment in Chester and York. Please forgive my impertinence, but I feel that, what with your experiences in Chichester, you have been exceptionally unlucky with the Church of England. I hope that there have been at least some countervailing consolations. Many apologies for putting it that way.
Yes, in some ways I’ve been unlucky. I talked it over once with a spiritual advisor, wondering if it was my fault in some way. I do enjoy taking on a challenge, and will grasp nettles at least some of the time. The advisor, who has few illusions about the Church of England, said that in his opinion much of was due to my being one of the pioneers of women’s ordination, and not having the protection of husband, family, or highly placed connections willing to pull strings for me or fight my corner. Eastbourne and Chichester Diocese were just a matter of chance, of course.
I have to say that in Chester the diocese were very supportive, although the parish was a tough one. Looking back, I’m even more grateful for that support. It shows what a good archdeacon and bishop can do, if they’re so minded.
And everywhere I’ve made good friends and found support among members of the congregation. I’m still in touch with at least one person from everywhere I’ve worked – and often several people. I’ve met some wonderful people and I’m grateful for every one of them. And of course I’ve learned a lot along the way.
Yes, there are consolations.
The problem with being blogger is that after I write my pieces I am inexorably thinking about the next one. Thus I don’t always engage fully with the issues as I should that come up in the comments. But in my defence I do communicate with those who write to me privately. I have to say that I am very fortunate that the quality of the comments is of the highest. I do occasionally have to remind people to stick to the point! Thank you for looking after each other as you do so often. The responses to Paul’s piece is very helpful and I am sure he will appreciate your support here and on Thinking Anglicans. My single comment that I want to develop as a post is the way that people simply do not understand or are sensitive to the nature of power that flows around churches. The bishop and the archdeacon behaved like individuals put in charge of a choir who were tone deaf. The ‘music’ that they could not hear was the working of power in a church and the way people are dramatically affected by it. People are also deeply betrayed by tone deaf pastoral figures who cannot relate to death, as in Janet’s anecdote. Thank you Sarah for your tale.
At the risk of depressing everyone, I’m afraid this is common. I saw clergy come in from other dioceses who were obviously schooled in the same patronising and uncaring turns of phrase. And when I moved, and was pointed to the vulnerable adults officer (eventually), he read a long dossier and said, “There is nothing here that surprises me, across three dioceses.” Perhaps some of you guys won’t be surprised that the Bishop did not like him and removed him. And that his replacement never contacted me.
Sadly, I’m not surprised. Pastoral people can be deeply unpopular with senior clergy who are not themselves pastoral. It’s partly jealousy,I think, because people who are caring towards others are generally popular. And partly that pastors are alive to the inadequacies and neglect of good practice they see around them.