‘I’m afraid you have a resident nasty.’ I was sitting in an Oxford vicarage and these shattering words were addressed to me.

I had been to see Mrs. Vicar a couple of weeks before for counselling about the sexual abuse that had been inflicted on me as a child, and she had prayed for emotional healing. This was a follow-up appointment, and she was concerned that I showed no improvement. Worse, I was beginning to feel angry about the abuse. In her mind the equation was simple: I hadn’t responded to prayer, but had actually got worse; therefore I was hosting one or more evil spirits. Unfortunately, she said, she wasn’t in a position to do anything about it that day. She explained that she never tackled ‘deliverance’ ministry on her own, and her husband was away leading a series of missions. She would make another appointment for me when he got back.

I went home feeling even worse about myself than before – and now frightened, too. There was something evil within me that this experienced woman of God was afraid to tackle. How was I to cope with that knowledge? How was I safe to be with my own self? I was desperate for Mr. Vicar to return so I could be free of the fear and self-loathing induced by the thought of having a ‘demon’.

Mr. Vicar came back, and I heard nothing about another appointment. Weeks went by as my emotional and psychological state grew worse. I became so desperate that there seemed no alternative but to kill myself. One afternoon I was thinking how best to do it when the phone rang. It was a friend calling for a chat. That call – an unlikely one given it was long distance and at the expensive rate – saved me. She convinced me I needed to phone the Vicars straight away, tell them how I was, and insist on an early appointment.

A few days later I was again in the vicarage’s rather gloomy sitting room. Mr and Mrs Vicar were both there, as arranged. With them was a second local vicar, who I was told would be observing. I remember nothing of what followed, except feeling uncomfortable and very vulnerable. Certainly I felt no great improvement as a result of it. The experience occurred in the 1980s, but I still vividly remember how damaging it was.

To many readers this whole episode will seem strange and absurd. But Mr. and Mrs. Vicar were both intelligent and highly educated, and genuinely believed they were helping me. Mr. Vicar went on to lecture at a theological college, and helped to train Anglican ordinands, no doubt in a similar approach to the one he and his wife used with me.

For those from the Charismatic wing of the Church – not just the Church of England but all churches – belief in demons is not only real, but very much part of the way they live out their faith. For many years I was part of this scene myself. I took a short course in deliverance ministry at Ellel Grange (then in its very early days), and was a curate at a large charismatic church. Ellel taught that the experience of being abused was in itself an opportunity for demons to enter. According to Ellel there were many such ‘entry points’, ranging from having a Masonic ancestor to having touched a dead body. What did that mean for nurses and undertakers, I wondered?

The church where I was curate both taught and practiced John Wimber’s methods of ‘power healing’. This, too, often involved ‘deliverance from evil spirits’. I hadn’t encountered Wimber’s teachings before, and my questioning attitude did not make me popular in some quarters. I was not alone in my doubts, however; two doctors in the congregation (one a neurologist) told me that Wimber’s healing technique was medically classed as hypnotism. In other words, it was the power of suggestion rather than the Holy Spirit which was at work. I started on a quest to understand the interplay between the spiritual, emotional, and psychological aspects of human personality – a quest on which I’m still engaged.

My concern in this blog is not with the thinking behind demonology and deliverance ministry, but with its effect on those who are exposed to it. I was advised by a colleague’s wife that Body Shop products were ‘demonic’, because they were often sourced from the developing world where ‘pagan’ religions predominate. The same woman expressed anxiety that there was a gap in our round-the clock prayer chain just as children were coming out of school. This worried her because she felt that God wouldn’t protect them unless someone was specifically praying for their protection at the time. A friend was told by an Ellel staffer that a paisley scarf was ‘demonic’. Those who see demons everywhere in this way live fearful lives, and become limited in many ways. Imagine having to consult an ‘expert’ regarding perfectly ordinary everyday purchases, in order to avoid becoming subject to demonic activity! Imagine worrying that your loved ones are only ‘protected’ if someone prays the right prayers, and at the right time!

The belief in the prevalence and influence of evil spirits seems to have gained predominance among those who practice inner healing and ‘prayer ministry’. John Wimber’s Vineyard network of churches has grown. Ellel Ministries have expanded in the 30 years since I first encountered them. Other schools of healing that heavily emphasise deliverance ministry have been developed, such as Sozo and Elijah House. All of these have practitioners who operate within churches of the main denominations; in retreat houses, conferences and other centres. Some mainline denominational churches are listed as Sozo ‘resource churches’.

There are serious concerns with this approach to healing ministry. It can leave the subject feeling vulnerable and worse about themselves than before, as happened to me. Emotions and responses which are not only natural but healthy, such as anger at being betrayed and abused, are labelled as demonic and disowned. This constitutes a barrier to genuine healing, since being able to feel the anger is a key part of the survivor’s journey to recovery. ‘Difficult’ aspects of the personality – what is often called the ‘shadow side’ – are split off and disowned rather than faced and owned. This is not the path to integration and wholeness. It is certainly not the way to spiritual and psychological wellbeing. And deliverance ministry involves a power imbalance between the person being prayed for and those doing the praying, which is intimidating.

I came to recognise that deliverance ministry, and methods of inner healing which involve it, is often a form of spiritual abuse. It is time the churches woke up to this, and began to discourage its practice.

Sometimes in the dark hours of the night when I cannot sleep, I keep my brain occupied by thinking about words and their meanings. A word that recently buzzed around my brain was the word entitlement. I wanted to sort out in my mind why the word has two manifestations, one honourable and the other less so. The good expression of the word can be speedily defined. People acquire the right to certain privileges because these have been earned. A pensioner has an entitlement to his/her pension because payments have been made to a notional fund over 40+ years. Likewise, a sick person in the UK is entitled to NHS health treatment. Society has agreed to support such a scheme and money is taken out of the tax system to pay for it.

Moving on from this positive meaning of entitlement I began to reflect on the shadow side that is indicated by this word. We have all met people who have a sense of entitlement in a negative sense. These individuals demand privileges and favours because they believe that this is what they deserve. Sometimes favours are demanded from others because those with an entitled attitude feel that their higher status or wealth gives them the right to receive special treatment. They may also regard others who are around them as socially and in every other way their inferiors. Sometimes these ‘lesser beings’ are deliberately exploited in some way. Demands made of them may, in extreme examples, involve sexual favours. In some way the person of entitlement seems to feel that his/her status is enhanced through treating others badly.

Recently we have all read about the poor treatment of junior members of staff in the House of Commons by senior politicians. Bullying, the humiliation and the exploitation of juniors seems to be rife in many institutions. The impression we get in reading these stories is that when some individuals obtains status, wealth or power, they feel they are only expressing this fully when they also bully and humiliate those below them. This is not to say that every senior politician or person holding power does this, but it happens so frequently that we can describe it as common behaviour. The sexual abuse of young athletes and would be footballers by their trainers is also something that is commonplace. We would hope that there are many other trainers and coaches, not to mention politicians working with young interns, who do not behave like this. Newspaper readers cannot be blamed for obtaining the opposite impression.

When we think about these episodes of bullying and sexual abuse in so many different settings, we quickly come back to this word ‘entitlement’. It would appear to be an important concept to help us understand this kind of behaviour. What seems to happen is that when individuals receive new status in an institution, it sometimes changes them in a negative way. A promotion may involve a new title. The new appellation Sir, Bishop, Lord/Lady, Captain or Vicar, tricks the promoted individual into thinking that some shift has taken place to make them somehow of superior importance. Having changed in their own self-perception to becoming a person of increased power, the way that they feel they should relate to other people may also undergo a transformation. Following a short process of adjusting to the new role and title, new, sometimes malign, methods of relating are established. Alongside an increased tendency to look down on others, there may be other ways of maintaining and enhancing their importance at the expense of others. Sexual misconduct is just one way of ‘acting out’ and laying claim to their new power. For sexual abuse survivors in the church there is the frequent complaint that important people, not necessarily the perpetrators, have difficulty in paying attention to detail or ‘remembering’ what is said to them about abuse incidents. It is as though the higher up you climb in a hierarchy, the more you have ‘permission’ to ignore the concerns and pain of those below you.

One thing is true for anybody in the army, the church, politics or business. New titles or promotion do not in fact change anyone in a significant way. A belief or assumption that a promotion makes such a change may well be starting off a process of a damaging fantasy. One problem is that when anyone receives any kind of preferment, the people around them often start to treat them differently. A pressure to believe that something has ontologically changed inside is thus coming from the outside as well as the inside. Important people attract to themselves others who maintain an attachment simply to enhance their own significance. All too often at the highest levels of any organisation we find, not challenging critique, but flattery, obsequiousness and grovelling behaviour. The more the person of power is surrounded by this kind of attitude, the more they start to believe the ‘myth’ of their power and entitlement.

Recently I have been trying to make sense of the behaviour of 18+ Anglican bishops who reportedly have failed to act honourably in the case of sexually abused individuals who have disclosed to them. I am asking myself whether we are observing here some of the features of this wrong kind of entitlement being played out in their lives. The new responsibilities that bishops have in the church may have been thought of as giving them access to special power. A perception or belief that they are somehow hyper spiritual/important through the laying on of hands may well lead to damaging consequences. The reality of their situation is that by taking a role within the hierarchy of this institution, they are the more locked into its political dimension. When the Church gets things wrong in its responsibility for caring for the interests of its abused members, then the bishops, as part of the leadership, participate in this failure. Institutional status and influence may be a poor reward for a sense of compromised integrity that may come to be theirs as part of an organisation, arguably in crisis. It is a lonely place to represent and lead in an organisation that may be failing to observe its own values and standards.

Last week I implied that the position of Dean of Christ Church might be a poisoned chalice for any future candidate for the post. I have a similar fear for the post of diocesan bishop in the Church of England. At present there are still people willing to stand as candidates for this role. Over the next 20 years this situation could well change as the real stresses of running a diocese became more widely understood. A major question for bishops is to discover how to preserve personal integrity when the organisation you are leading is in places allowing some types of corruption to seep in as part of a strategy to defend itself. If the institution becomes further compromised by this pressure to protect itself, then all its leaders may find their personal integrity under attack. Increasingly individuals, when offered such a post, would want to reject it outright. In the States we witness the corruption of the entire administration led by President Trump. Only people of doubtful morality and reputation seem prepared to be in the employ of this current President. His brand has become so toxic that everyone decent is not prepared to be considered for office. May that never happen to our Church of England.

Last Sunday I listened to a sermon which touched on the issue of child abuse in the Church of England. This was a first for me. What the lady preacher had to say on the topic weaved various themes together – Dickens’ Christmas Carol, Advent and the meaning of the word apocalypse. I usually am very bad at recollecting sermons but, on this occasion, I want to try and recall some parts of what was said. When a sermon topic grabs my attention, I find myself running ahead in my own mind, so I cannot always remember where the preacher’s words end, and my own reflections begin. What I think I heard was a timely and prophetic summons to our church leaders to act in this area of past abuse within the churches.

The first point that the preacher made was to discuss the word apocalypse. Contrary to the meanings implied by such films as ‘Apocalypse Now’, the word does not necessarily imply disaster. It simply means uncovering or unveiling of something hidden. The Apocalypse of John in the Bible which is known as Revelation is declared to be about the revealing of things which ‘must shortly happen’. Chronological time in fact seems to be of little importance in the narrative of Revelation. Much of the text draws us into a mythological time. Past, present and future merge into one. The word apocalypse is a good word to describe the encounter by the reader with the various mysterious episodes recounted in the book. Because the symbolism is often difficult and obscure, we have a sense of being on the edge of something that we will never fully understand. We may feel a comparable sense of bafflement when the shocking fact of sexual abuse in the church is first revealed. Things that have been hidden are being brought to light. This is also an apocalypse, even if what is revealed is an evil which needs to be responded to and action taken by the Church to prevent anything similar happening in the future.

At some point in the sermon we were reminded of the passage from the Christmas Carol when Scrooge is visited by the spirits of past Christmases. The various spirits force him to view episodes from his past making sure that he knew what truly going on and what were the true feelings that people had about him. Each of these visions could be said to be a kind of mini-apocalypse for him. The most terrifying of the visions was the one he had of the future. Here he saw himself dying alone, unloved and unmourned by anyone. This apocalypse was a shock to the system, designed to compel him to make a new effort to get his life back together. He could do nothing about the revelations of the past, but he had it in his power to change the future.

The preacher on Sunday pointed out that the way for the church to put right its failings from the past over child abuse was to face up to the facts of past failure and do everything possible to prevent similar events in the future. This apocalypse, the unveiling of past horrors compels us to face up to the reality of the situation. We now have a choice to put right the future. If nothing changes, the future will simply be a continuation of the past and the present. The apocalypse of the future will give us a reality just as grim as the past.

The sermon did not elaborate what the future might be for the Church if the failings of present and past were not dealt with. But I was being led to see that just as Scrooge could change the future by an act of ‘metanoia’, so the Church can change the script for the future if it so wishes. From a Christian perspective, God knows the past, present and the future but he gives us some control of how the future will play out. The decision to remake the future has to be made now.

What must the Church do with the apocalypses of child abuse in the present and from the past? One thing is certain. If we treat the current crop of scandals about abuse as apocalypses sent by God, then we should not attempt to cover-up what has been so far revealed. I do not know if there is word which is the opposite to apocalypse but every time a lawyer, bishop or insurance official tries to bury all or part of a story about abuse, this is what they are doing. God in some sense is uncovering something terrible for us to respond to and deal with. Human beings, by burying, denying or supressing that information are creating the scenario for a future apocalypse of terrible intensity. Years of deflecting and denying power abuse have created the possibility for a future legacy that will do much to undermine the Church.

The apocalypse or revelation of child sexual abuse in the Church has a past, present and future dimension. The only part of this apocalypse that can be changed is the future part. If the Church gets its act together and puts right the present and the past, then the future apocalypse will not be a time of disaster. The Church, like Scrooge, is being given the opportunity to put things right for the future. Present indications are that it is still very much wedded to the path of avoidance and secrecy. Such deflection and denial will inevitably lead to a bleak future for every part of the institution. The sheer energy being expended by some senior churchmen to promote ‘forgetfulness’ and the attempted discrediting of survivors will eventually have a terrible legacy. When ordinary members suspect that honesty and openness is not valued by senior members of the Church, a slow disillusionment will set in. Young people especially will always sniff out hypocrisy when it exists. Information put out on Twitter by Gilo, Matt and a Iwerrne survivor suggests that between them they know of 18 bishops who knew of their abuse and walked away. If we add to the total those who heard about the Peter Ball incidents, the number approaches 30. The media and the bloggers will continue to tease out the secrets and cover-ups that exist. Any attempt by institutions to hide secrets is becoming less and less viable in this Internet Age. We might even describe the Internet as an organ of apocalypse. How much better if the hitherto veiled truth is shared in the Church now rather our having to wait for it to emerge in the future and then see it poured out over the Church like one of the bowls of God’s wrath in Revelation 16. One asks whether the Church would even survive that future apocalypse of truth and reality. At some point the Church has to be brought face to face with all the truth of past evils that it has sought to deny and supress for so long.

The Christ Church Oxford saga is one that has come to occupy more and more column inches in the Press and the blogosphere. In summary, it concerns the attempts by a group of dons (or Students as they are called) to remove their head of College, Dean Martyn Percy. Let me first declare a personal interest. I have known Martyn on and off for 25 years since he helped me with a writing project back in the 90s. But what I write here has nothing whatever to do with this passing acquaintance. I also have no inside information about the nature of the charges that are being brought against him. This appears to be something I have in common with Martyn himself as he professes ignorance about what might be going at the heart of the complaint.

My wanting to write this blog commentary is linked to what I know about the anomalous nature of the post of the Dean of Christ Church, Oxford. As anyone connected with Oxford knows, the head of arguably the most prestigious of the Oxford colleges is also the Dean of the Cathedral of the Diocese. He is expected to oversee two areas of governance, that of a working Cathedral and a powerful wealthy Oxford college. On the face of it, it would appear to be a near impossible task. The Cathedral part of the post demands a people person, a good manager and someone with a more than basic knowledge of music and liturgy. The College part of the job requires someone who is a politician as well as a competent academic, one who can retain the respect of members of the academic teaching staff. To describe this latter group as academic heavyweights would hardly do justice to their years of experience. Ancient statutes and customs will have given them a sense of privilege and entitlement, well used to exercising power. Each one of them is also a survivor of a long battle to climb up the ranks of academia. The academic world is one where it can be truly said, ‘Many are called but few are chosen’.

The lower echelons of the academic world are littered with individuals who have PhDs but no prospect of a job teaching in a university. There are now, it seems, simply not enough jobs to go round. Those who have ‘made it’ into a tenured post are still challenged by a frantic need to publish in order to enhance their reputation for the next promotion. If, by any chance, an academic aspirant slips off the ladder, even for a brief period, he/she finds it hard to return. There are just too many unread articles in their specialism for them to be able to catch up. Also, moving away from easy access to university libraries is another way of losing connection with the rarefied world of academic respectability.

The number of clergy in the Church of England who have successfully achieved academic ambition alongside administrative/pastoral duties is not very large. A number do obtain doctorates and write books during their ministry but few if any of them are equipped to take on a university teaching role. Even within theology where the Church might be expected to have some ownership, the university system is simply too demanding to use those who have had roles outside the universities. Martyn himself has pointed out the fact that there are now no members of the House of Bishops who have ever taught theology at a major university. His own role as an academically qualified university teacher, as well as working within an Anglican institution such as a cathedral makes him a unique figure in the church.

If the Tribunal at Christ Church does find Martyn guilty and removes him from office, what will be the future? The Statutes require that a Dean who is appointed be an individual in Holy Orders. The field of potential successors must be very small. Let us suppose (and this might be generous) that there are three people who have sufficient academic distinction and experience of the Church to take on Martyn’s role as Christ Church Dean. This potential field would rapidly shrink to zero, once the story of bullying and stress-inducing behaviour leading up to the Tribunal becomes more widely known. Could it be that the complainants are hoping for this scenario to be played out? There may well be in this whole episode a complicated but hidden agenda of removing the Church of England out of the governance of the College. The Church would then be faced with appointing a Dean who, absurdly, was unable to live next to his Cathedral.

Martyn’s situation is then a cause of concern for the entire Church of England. It is hard to see how the status quo will ever return if Martyn is ousted. If the Head of Christ Church Oxford is not a member of the ordained clergy, then the Church of England will have a quite different relationship to one of its cathedrals. There will be an impossibly messy and confused situation. All the assumptions from the past, when church/secular institutions could co-exist seamlessly, may be torn down by this power grab against the Dean of the college.

Martyn Percy is a controversial figure. I happen to admire him not only from personal acquaintance but because he is on board with the concerns of this blog over the support of survivors. Even if I did not respect his position, it still seems of vital importance to call for the church at large to back him strongly. His possible removal will unravel one important, even vital, link between academic critical theology and the Church. The wider Church desperately needs Martyn for his theological skills and insights. He stands for a link between the world of academically rigorous thinking and the concerns of the Church. If that link is broken, the Church will be the poorer for it.

This week, IICSA has been listening to evidence from the Catholic Archdiocese of Birmingham and its poor record of dealing with the sexual abuse of children by clergy. Birmingham Catholics can claim one unenviable record over the Anglican Church. One of their priests, James Robinson, was sentenced to the longest ever period in prison for a church related sexual offence against minors, 21 years. The severity of his crimes was known about for decades, but the church authorities seemed curiously reluctant to do anything decisive about his case. Instead he was apparently harboured, protected and allowed to spend time abroad

The chief witness, Cardinal Vincent Nicholls, formerly Archbishop of Birmingham, did not appear on Tuesday as had been prearranged. He had been taken ill at a Remembrance Sunday gathering. We were given a long time for the examination of the diocesan officer for safeguarding, Jane Jones. Her testimony was punctuated with numerous recitations of ‘I do not recall’ or ‘I do not remember the details’. In her defence, it was later revealed that she had been given the impossible brief of being the one designated to support both the accused offenders as well as the abused. It is hardly surprising that many of the survivors felt less than adequately supported under her care. The evidence of Eileen Shearer, the former national Catholic coordinator had much more power and it gave us the atmosphere of how difficult it was to shift attitudes of bishops and priests in this area of safeguarding.

This reflection cannot be a full report of the evidence, as I only dipped in and out of the hearings this week. But there is one topic that stuck out for me as I watched the summing up on Friday afternoon. The lawyers representing the victims spoke of the ‘robust’ defence of the Catholic Church against the claims of survivors and the extraordinary legal steps that were regularly taken to avoid ever admitting liability. The legal processes used by Church of England lawyers apparently no longer use time limitation arguments when negotiating settlements with survivors. In contrast it seems that the lawyers employed by the Birmingham Archdiocese used every possible trick in the book to avoid admitting any liability even when it was widely accepted that some of these priests were guilty of crimes. This defensiveness was also combined with a far worse record on the part of the Catholic Church for supporting victims than for Anglican survivors. This lack of meaningful support together with aggressive legal tactics being used against victims, has been a cause of extra suffering for this group. We are talking about a considerable number of individuals. Few of them have received any compensation, let alone obtained adequate resources to assist them in finding psychological support.

The combination of aggressive behaviour towards victims and the operation of a defensive shield on behalf of a church reminds us of similar tactics used by the Church of England. What might account for this behaviour? The simple answer is always to follow the money. When victims are sufficiently battered, they will be more likely to accept a lower level of compensation from the offending institution. I have no inside knowledge about the relative payments made to Catholic and Anglican survivors, but it would seem common-sense to suggest that insurance companies would want to make the process of claiming as unpleasant as possible to encourage fewer claims. The Church of England is insured by the Ecclesiastical Insurance Group. The Catholic Church uses a company based in Guernsey which apparently is so secretive that it does not have a web-site. This combination of secrecy, traditional Catholic reticence and the financial advantages of being based in a tax haven raises eye-brows. I can go no farther than that. All I can say is that if we want to know who may be calling the shots in the shabbily ineffective conduct of child protection among Catholics in Birmingham over the past fifty years, we might start, not with the Vatican or even the beleaguered successive Archbishops of Birmingham, but with a secretive insurance group based in Guernsey.

As this is a short piece, I am not going to develop this speculation. Perhaps what I am asking of both the Anglican and the Catholic churches is to question whether they are fully in control of the care of survivors. Have they perhaps handed over some part of this responsibility to the interests and priorities of insurance companies? A failure to be open, pastoral and caring towards survivors is a constant point of complaint on this blog. Is it somehow connected with the need to preserve the financial interests of insurance companies? We certainly have witnessed today, Friday, evidence of callous, indifferent behaviour by an institution towards a group of vulnerable people. What created that environment of detachment and distance? Perhaps we should not blame only the bishops who are in nominal charge but the insurance companies and the supporting lawyers who appear to give the church their orders. It is a travesty of gospel values if we find that it is the money men who are those who dictate safeguarding policy and pastoral practice to the churches of our country.

There are some words in common usage that trip off the tongue without our giving a great deal of thought about their meaning. One of these words is democracy. It is a word that speaks of an aspect of society that we value but often take for granted. We may find ourselves examining the meaning of this word more closely when its opposite, authoritarianism, appears on the horizon. When authoritarian rule threatens a society, people find themselves looking to the institutions which are designed to check it, such as the Press or the independence of the legal system. In this country we value living in a society where constitutionally the will of the people is regularly consulted. The people vote in or vote out an administration according to their perceptions of its competence to manage the country.

Democracy is a relatively new idea. For most of history and in most places, other systems of government have prevailed. Democracy may have had a brief flowering in Athens during the 400s BC, but even there it was a far from perfect implementation. Women and slaves were excluded from the gatherings of free citizens that made decisions. It was also a fragile institution and there was always the threat that autocracy would reassert itself. Many of the words that describe the different systems of government are Greek words. We have mentioned two of them. There are others, oligarchy, theocracy and tyranny. We can also add Latin words like emperor and dictator. Political systems suggested by each these words have prevailed at different times in history. Of all the possible types, democracy was more often merely an idea rather than a reality. Typically, a powerful man would take over one of the organs of state, such as the army, and then declare himself to be ruler. Sometimes dictatorship was exercised benevolently. The Roman Empire had one such period under three successive emperors, Trajan, Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius. But, apart from this 80-year period, from 100 -180 AD, the history of Rome is marked by an almost constant series of wars, both internal and external.

Many countries today are going through political upheavals. Some seem to be moving towards authoritarian populist right-wing systems of rule. In the case of the United States we see attempts on the part of the Trump-led Republican Party to undermine the rule of law and the role of the Press. Appointing an obviously partisan judge to the highest court of the land little serves the cause of unbiased justice and oversight of the American Constitution. These efforts in the States to move towards what we would call authoritarian rule or tyranny are supported by a large group of evangelical Christians. Many conservative Christians apparently see Trump’s presidency as opening the way to another form of rule, theocracy. Donald Trump is thought to be the new King Cyrus. He it is who is the tool used by God who is coming to rule the country through his chosen representatives.

As an idea, theocracy has only been attempted in a very few places in history. In summary it is the belief that God’s law and will can be applied to a human society and it will usher in some form of perfection. The idea of theocracy could be said to undergird the indescribable brutalities of ISIS in Iraq and Syria. In the West it formed part of the idealism of the early English Puritan settlers who moved to New England in the 1620s. In both examples it can be claimed that idealism was quickly translated into violence (albeit on different scales) as not everyone wanted to conform to the ideals of leaders. Contemporary theocratic ideas in America owe much to the writings of R.J. Rushdoony. In the 1960s he conceived of a system of government entirely based on Old Testament law. http://survivingchurch.org/2014/10/21/reconstructionism/ These ideas have been taken up by a powerful segment of Pentecostal/Charismatic thinkers who are organised in a network known as the New Apostolic Reformation. I have referred to this group several times on this blog, but I still find few in this country who know about the political power of this group in the States. Rusdoony and his later imitators are, as we would expect, enthusiastic about extreme sanctions against those who break sexual codes, including the mention of the death sentence for homosexuality and bestiality. One contemporary expression is the ‘Seven Mountains’ doctrine. This states that it is the duty of Christians to take charge of the seven areas of influence in society on God’s behalf. In short, every expression of culture or power should be under the control of ‘bible-believing’ Christians.

Theocracy as a practical system of government has probably not been worked out fully even by its enthusiastic supporters. But it still exists in the minds of many Trump Christian supporters as a political system which can be realistically implemented in the States. The important (and scary) thing is that they have been led by Rushdoony to believe that the Bible is an adequate basis for all decisions of government. Men of God (it will only be men) will arise to rule on behalf of God. Because they are the genuine servants of the living God, they will be faithful interpreters of his will. Whatever they command in his name will be a perfect expression of God’s law.

It is difficult to see how any modern version of theocracy will do better that its historical precedents in 17th century Massachusetts or ISIS controlled parts of Iraq and Syria. The only way that every individual can be persuaded into obeying an ‘infallible’ leader who speaks the will of God is through force and fear. We know that vast crowds will sometimes willingly follow a leader on some spiritual or political quest. But there will always be doubters or sceptics within the crowd. All our post-Enlightenment instincts want to affirm the legal and moral rights of the non-conformer. Infallibility is not a useful concept either in politics or religion and it does nothing to promote freedom of conscience. The craving for total certainties among conservative Christians as among Trump Republican supporters is a false and futile longing. The application of theocratic rule by ‘godly’ infallible leaders ends up being a path to tyranny, destruction of freedom and violence. Theocracy in short is a false dream. Because it depends on human beings to put it into practice, it will always suffer from the fallibilities to which human beings are always prey. For all its draw-backs democracy remains the best of a bad bunch in the systems of government available to us.

Trumpism and the desired move by his followers towards theocratic systems of government will only, we hope, be a temporary historical blip. But the popularity of this totalitarian thinking across the world must still be faced and challenged. Inclusivity, tolerance and the freedom to disagree with others are worthy causes. Theocracy, as it is believed in by some the States, is an enemy of freedom and a threat to the Christian faith itself. Christ invited us to freedom not the tyranny of coercion and fear.

Every so often I become weary with the cause of reporting and discussing power abuse and the effect that it has on people’s lives. And then I realise very quickly that I, in fact, have a choice in my involvement. As someone who has never known the worst kinds of abuse, I could walk away and think about and study other things. Such choices are not available to those who have, through no fault of their own, joined the ranks of being a survivor or a victim. They are compelled to carry the burden of past horrors every day of their lives. They need other people, whether professionals or amateurs like me, to listen to some of the terrible things that have happened to them. My readiness to write about this community is my small contribution towards helping this group to move towards the healing they need.

After writing this blog for four and half years, I was gratified to meet a few people outside General Synod last February who knew about my efforts on Surviving Church and who wanted to offer encouragement. This was a great help to me. I found myself newly energised and wanting to provide a personal commentary on the IICSA hearings in March and July to help readers understand better the topic of Anglican sexual abuse issues. My viewing figures started to go up, not least because some of my contributions and reflections were being shared more widely on the Internet. I began to feel that this task of reflecting on power/abuse issues was moving from being just a personal interest to becoming a kind of vocation on behalf of the wider Church.

What are my conclusions about the current state of play in the Church of England over abuse and power issues? I wish I could say that the shocks to the system, caused by the revelations at the IICSA hearings earlier this year, had created a humbler, more penitent and open Church. The Church will, when the written conclusions appear, receive a fairly negative verdict from both sets of IICSA hearings. The levels of incompetence, bad faith and behaviours verging on evil have been breath-taking. My impression now is that, in certain areas, things are still not changing. In spite of all the safeguarding structures and training that been put in place over the past years, there are unacceptable levels of secrecy among those who manage the church. One problem now facing the bishops and everyone else involved, is that it is far harder in these days of instant communication and networking to preserve secrets in the church. Today someone has drawn my attention to a new organization in the States called Faithleaks. Its stated aim is to be an ‘organization founded on the belief that increased transparency within religious organizations results in fewer untruths, less corruption, and less abuse’. Initiatives like this will gradually undermine the ability of any church to bury episodes from the past which still have the capacity to shock. The desire to hold on to secrets would appear to be more and more difficult as well as increasingly damaging.

One of the most extraordinary revelations of the past 12 months was the information that was shared in Sir Roger Singleton’s Report on the Past Cases Review (PCR). The PCR was an attempt by the Church of England in 2008-9 to go through all their personnel files to make sure that they had not missed any historic cases of abuse. Singleton’s report showed that whatever was intended by this Review, it was a massive waste of money. While some dioceses may have scrutinised their files thoroughly, others seemed to have done their examination in a very haphazard way. The final total of 13 outstanding cases, from the examination of the files in all 43 dioceses, was laughable in its underestimation of the problem of past abuse. Chichester alone had over 30 cases outstanding and these were, for some reason, not added to the national total. In 2010 when the report appeared, the Church of England were in strong denial about the whole issue. Roger Singleton’s Report seems now to have disappeared from view, as though it too is another piece of paper which needs to be buried because of its capacity to cause embarrassment.

When I reflect in these posts the unhappiness on the part of survivors towards bishops and national safeguarding institutions, I naturally look for an explanation for why this should be so. Why is there tension, defensiveness and secrecy among those who run the church on safeguarding issues? The short answer seems to be that the institution, here the Church of England, feels compelled to defend itself from reputational damage. Stories from the past about abuse undermine the desired narrative of a godly caring body of people who follow Christ. If even a fraction of these stories of abuse were to be true, consequences follow. The general public begins to regard the church as a place of danger because they can no longer trust its servants and representatives to protect the vulnerable. If the PCR had been a properly conducted exercise which squarely faced up to the cases of abuse from the past, the church would no doubt have had a huge crisis to overcome. But that crisis would have been survivable. With the help of large doses of honesty and humility, together with financial provision for survivors, the Church would have pulled through. But the Church chose the path of defensive denial so that even now the full truth of past abuses remains an untold story except to the actual survivors. Secrecy and suppression of truth then, as today, prevailed over openness and honesty.

The picture I have in my mind as I write these words is the picture of a town in a volcanic region. The townspeople worry that there is a danger of an eruption, but its mayor and councillors have told them not to be concerned about the odd rumble that is heard in the ground beneath them. Everything is under control they are told. The volcano will never erupt. But of course, the volcano eventually does erupt. Fortunately, the people of the town have time to flee but the houses and all their possessions have to be left behind. They only escape with their lives.

I believe that in the absence of honesty, repentance and a genuine compassion and care for survivors, the Church is going to be threatened for many years to come by the possibility of a volcanic explosion of truth. As long the Church tries to control the narrative of parts of its history by secrecy, cover-up and the evasion of truth, it risks its future. Last week the Smyth story appeared once more on the net in a perceptive article by Martin Sewell. There are still many unanswered questions. The Singleton Report, the Smyth story and all the individual narratives of survivors speak of an institution sitting on a volcano of Truth. It is, I repeat, not the abuse events themselves that are the real problem; rather the collusion and cover-up perpetrated by church leaders will be felt to be even more shocking. Figures in senior positions in the Church even now know things that disgrace the institution. Perhaps they genuinely believe that suppression will somehow make these go away. That is never true. Meanwhile, every time we fail to own up fully to the past, we exacerbate the pain of survivors. Humility, honesty and Christian charity would genuinely act together to promote healing, not only for the survivors, but for everyone who wants to find wholeness and shalom in the Church of Christ.
There is nothing covered up that will not uncovered, nothing hidden that will not be made known. Mat 10.26

At some point over the next couple of months, we will receive the written report of IICSA on the Diocese of Chichester. No doubt there will be a flurry of paperwork as the Church of England responds to the inevitable critique of its past failures. What will be interesting is to see whether IICSA is now satisfied that the Church has put its house in order after the many past lapses. Have lessons really been learnt, as the cliché runs? While we await to hear these conclusions, we have read this past week a further example of poor record keeping and sloppy systems of communication within the Church. The Daily Mail recounted the story of Mark Kiddle, a convicted ex-Vicar, who was at the centre of an abuse episode going back to the 80s. The Mail has not been completely accurate in its reporting when it says that Kiddle was ‘moved to another parish’ after the trial and suspended sentence. He appears rather to have been allowed to attach himself to a City of London Church as an honorary assistant for several years. During this period, he was offered but declined the position of a ‘Deputy Priest in Ordinary to Her Majesty.’ This episode again demonstrates that the Church of England was in the past deficient in keeping proper records of serious abuse convictions on the part of its clergy.

Stories of this kind from the past are, sadly, rather common. But today we are reasonably confident that Church safeguarding procedures would ensure that indefinite suspension would immediately follow any such criminal conviction. PTOs or licences are also far harder to obtain for retired clergy. Everyone in this category is criminally checked and has to attend a safeguarding course. A PTO will be withdrawn if this is not complied with. From this point of view the Church is showing commendable diligence in protecting the vulnerable. But there is another part of the story where the Church is doing less well. In this Kiddle story, as with all other abuse accounts, there are victims. The victim in this case has no name given because of legal restrictions. Presumably the Church authorities have known about his identity for 30+ years. He now feels it important to sue as a way of dealing with his suffering. The Church naturally feels obliged to defend itself, so it employs lawyers and other professionals to mitigate as much as possible its financial liabilities. In whatever way it is handled, the abused individual is forced by the church to become a litigant. He is, for no fault of his own, forced to become the ‘other’, the one who stands over against the institution for which he may still have much loyalty and affection. This litigant role is costly in every sense and, for the abused survivor, it may feel very much like a new episode of abuse.

The enormous growth of the safeguarding ‘industry’ in the past ten years in the church and elsewhere has created a complex structure of professional training, regulations and policies. Surely things can only improve with all this effort? I have tried with information available online to understand how these safeguarding structures at a national level are supposed to work. The most senior body appears to be the National Safeguarding Steering Group (NSSG). This relates directly to the Bishops and oversees the other groups mentioned below. The National Safeguarding Panel (NSP) is a larger group which consults and advises on work done in this area. This is the body for which Meg Munn has recently been appointed as chair. It has a membership representing a variety of constituencies, including survivors’ groups such as MACSAS. This representation has allowed the NSP to claim that a ‘survivor perspective’ is influencing the agenda of the Church and its responses. But even as survivors are heard in this overseeing body, there is one important way where they have failed to create a decisive change in the other similarly sounding body, the National Safeguarding Team (NST). The NST is the front-line organisation which employs professionals to deliver the safeguarding policies and structures for the entire Church. It provides the necessary expertise for all the training that is going on up and down the country. The one glaring weakness in the NST is that it has neither the focus nor the expertise to deal with the needs of abuse survivors. I have, in a previous post drawn attention to the seventh statement in the stated role of the NST. Here we find that its ‘(sic) role is to develop and implement national survivors engagement and support work’. I am not sure exactly what these words mean in practice, but we do know that the published list of professionals working in the NST does not include a named individual to work with those already abused. Time and time again the message I hear from survivors is that the NST does not appear to be concerned about listening to the sufferings of the past. There is perhaps a fear of legal implications. But, as I have pointed out in a previous post, http://survivingchurch.org/2018/01/29/the-church-of-england-needs-better-lawyers/ the Law (Compensation Act 2006) does not regard the care of survivors as compromising any possible legal process. To put it another way, caring pastorally for the abused does not affect the level of pay-outs that might arise in civil cases. A readiness to engage pastorally with survivors might actually have the effect of reducing overall liability. Where legal remedies are sought by survivors, it may be in part the result of feeling that this is the only way of gaining the attention of the Church authorities. I am sure that the survivor representatives on the NSP are aware of the less than empathetic face of the NST in its dealing with the survivor population. The impression that is given is that the NST has been set up mainly to defend the financial and reputational interests of the Church. This will involve them in always trying to defuse and deflect the narratives of those who carry terrible stories of abuse from the past. Any attempt to bury the past or cast doubt on the veracity of survivors will always result in additional pain for this group.

The somewhat uncaring and even cruel interaction that often seems to mark the NST in its dealings with the survivor population is also felt to characterise the behaviour of some bishops. I suspect that the cases conducted by lawyers against the Church on behalf of victims would drop considerably if all the bodies connected with safeguarding really began to focus on the task of improving relationships with survivors. It is precisely because many safeguarding professionals and the bishops have been advised (wrongly I believe) by lawyers who work for insurance companies to keep survivors at arms-length that the chilly atmosphere of non- pastoral engagement and confrontation has evolved. If all bishops could start to behave as chief pastors once again, a lot of the tension and pain felt by survivors would end.

In one of the documents produced by the Church of England on the topic of safeguarding, it is stated that the ‘Church of England will care pastorally for victims/survivors of abuse and other affected persons’. A similar promise was made for those are the ‘the subject of allegations of abuse’. Somehow this part of the task of safeguarding has not yet happened. A survivor may be fortunate enough to have a local Safeguarding Adviser who goes the extra mile in showing understanding and insight in the matter of abuse trauma. Or they may not. Certainly, it is not part of the job description. Without funds from the centre for therapy and support it is hard to see how such professional and effective caring can be sustained. As long as the message from the centre seems to be one of defend and defuse as a way of protecting church assets, it is hard to see that the future will bring to the church anything except expense and a deteriorating reputation.

‘An Englishman’s way of speaking absolutely classifies him;
The moment he talks, he makes some other Englishman despise him.’

So lamented Henry Higgins in the film My Fair Lady. Anyone who has referred to the main meal of the day as ‘supper’ in a northern working class town will know what he meant. And when I moved from Sussex to Bradford I scandalised a church committee by saying I was ‘knackered’. Among my southern friends that simply meant ‘tired out’, but in 1980s West Yorkshire it was a far less innocent term. Similarly, when we moved from the USA to the UK I had to learn a whole new vocabulary. I remember how surprised I was when a dignified and conservative elderly lady was referred to as ‘chesty’; while English people knew I was from America the minute I opened my mouth.

The urge to classify people, to decide whether or not they are ‘one of us’, is very human, but can be deadly. The Bible (Judges 12) recounts the tale of two Israelite tribes, Gilead and Ephraim, who fell out and fought each other. As the defeated Ephraimites fled for home, the Gileadites stopped the fugitives at a ford of the river Jordan. There was nothing visible to distinguish one tribe from another; they were all related. The men of Gilead had a test, however. They stopped each man trying to cross and asked him to pronounce the word ‘shibboleth’ (a Hebrew word meaning roughly ‘ear of corn’). The word was innocent enough, but it was pronounced differently by the two tribes. Those who pronounced it ‘sibboleth’ were killed on the spot.

We still use the word ‘shibboleth’ to denote words and customs which distinguish insiders from outsiders; acceptable people from unacceptable. In 1950s and 60s conservative evangelical America, it was assumed that people who smoked, drank alcohol, danced, or went to movies were not ‘saved’. English evangelicals of the time, on the other hand, were shocked to see the wives of Billy Graham’s team wore make-up; that was worldly. For decades, you could tell whether someone was your ‘sort’ of Christian by what they believed about predestination, or the Rapture, or transubstantiation. The debates have moved on now, but the principle is still the same. Divorce and remarriage, women’s ordination, same sex relationships…the issues change but there always is an issue. Or two, or three issues. When we sing,
We are not divided,
all one body we,
one in hope and doctrine,
one in charity
it too often seems a bitter mockery.

Some years ago I attended an interfaith conference at which scholar Ida Glaser gave a talk comparing a chapter from Galatians with a sura of the Koran. It was fascinating. Afterwards I chatted to a leader of the conservative group Reform, who was sitting next to me. Dr. Glaser was all wrong about Galatians, he thought. Her exposition had seemed sound enough to me, so I asked what he thought was wrong with it. ‘She keeps saying Galatians is about grace,’ he replied, ‘when really it’s all about keeping the Law.’ How had he reached that conclusion, I asked. ‘We have to have Law,’ he replied, ‘so we know who’s saved and who isn’t.’ This seemed to me a complete contradiction not only of the message of Galatians, but also of the Gospel itself. After all, Jesus himself warned that it isn’t possible in this world to distinguish between those who are God’s people and those who aren’t. Some may appear to follow God but in fact do not; others seem uninterested in Christianity but live in a way that pleases God. We are not the judges, and we shouldn’t try to be.

It’s a temptation very few of us can resist, however. I frequently engage in discussion and debate with Christians and others on social media. And quite often someone will ask me, when I have put my view of the topic in question, ‘Are you a Christian?’ The implication is that they have doubts. Occasionally one or more participants will tell me outright that I am not a Christian – particularly if they discover that I am an ordained woman, or don’t believe the Bible forbids faithful same sex relationships, or whatever else the issue under discussion is.

I grew up in greater Chicago, an Irish-settled area where Catholics and Protestants didn’t mix. My evangelical background, too, had taught me to be deeply suspicious of Roman Catholics, and to consider a number of their views heretical. Then I moved to Manchester, and found myself living next door to devout, and very hospitable, Catholics. Over a bottle of wine one night we discussed some of the differences between Anglican and Catholic worship and doctrine. I found to my surprise that often we used different words to mean the same thing; and sometimes we used the same words and meant something different. I got rid of a lot of my shibboleths that night. We became good friends, and I learned a lot from them and other Catholics. I came to treasure some aspects of Catholic spirituality in my own Christian life.

Coming from a fundamentalist background, that’s a pattern I’ve found over and over again; people I thought were ‘outside’ turn out to be ‘inside’. Many of them are closer to God than I am and know more of God’s love and acceptance. They are certainly more able to extend God’s love to others than I am.

Early Celtic Christians used to speak of the ‘two books’ of God: the book of the Bible and the book of nature. Looking at the book of nature, we see how much God loves variety. There is a vast diversity in almost every natural thing we can think of, from snowflakes to Homo sapiens. God’s creation rejoices in distinctiveness and difference; only human industrial processes turn out identical items.

There is no reason to think that God wants all his people to look the same, use the same words, or hold identical beliefs. In the words of an old hymn which has become increasingly meaningful to me over the years:

There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,
like the wideness of the sea;
There’s a kindness in his justice
Which is more than liberty.

But we make his love too narrow
By false limits of our own;
And we magnify his strictness
With a zeal he will not own.

For the love of God is broader
Than the scope of human mind,
And the heart of the Eternal
Is most wonderfully kind.
(Frederick William Faber)

This is a guest post contributed by Janet Fife