by Martyn Percy

Part one of a two part examination of the Alpha Course

By any yardstick, Alpha Enterprises – courses, books, conferences and other programmes – is one of the more impressive missional developments to have emerged in the last 50 years.

The original course began in 1977 under Charles Marnham, a curate at Holy Trinity Brompton (HTB). John Irvine, Marnham’s successor, developed it further, before Nicky Lee and eventually Nick Gumbel completed the evolution under Sandy Millar, the Vicar. The course is now available in over 100 languages, half the countries of the world, and its is estimated the total number attending the course exceeds 25 million in its near 50 year history.

I wrote a reasonably prescient critique of Alpha in 1997 for Reviews in Religion and Theology.  This was at the high-point of Alpha, when 10,500 courses were running in the UK. Stuck for a title for the tongue-in-cheek review article, the publishers rang and asked me for a view.

I plucked ‘Join-the-Dots Christianity’ out of thin air, and the label has stuck ever since. It is faith given the painting by numbers treatment.  Alpha is to mission what a Lego version of what Michaelangelo’s Statute of David might do for fine art. Once you have this in your head, you cannot unthink it.

Of course, Alpha is not Christianity. And Christianity is not Alpha.  Alpha is a form of packaging that has been attractively branded, and so it should be treated as any wrapper might be. The goodies are inside. The envelope is not the point of gift, any more than the accent of a preacher is integral to the gospel.

That said, the more one might laud the wrapping, the lesser the stress on the contents become. Here, I suspect that one of the reasons Alpha resonates is that the leadership culture of the Church of England has decomposed into one where appearance matters more than reality. How the church wraps its news, sometimes to try and manipulate the media, and tries to bury uncomfortable truths is a resonant feature of its communications and public relations.

The underlying culture that gives credence to this resonance has been cooking for a very long time.  For example, consider this conundrum.  Are sermons and talks for training and equipping (i.e., skills, techniques, etc.) congregations?  Or, are they, following Paulo Freire, for education and liberation (i.e., critical questions of belief and praxis, and the fostering of wisdom, etc)?

I instinctively recoil from the idea that sermons, talks or even church itself is a training-centred institution. But I accept that in times of duress and distress – and the churches are surely living in such contexts – a training-based focus is almost bound to emerge. Education and wisdom ceases, and its replaced by instruction and coaching.

But Alpha is, as I say, packaging. It is not the gospel, and it does not claim to be.  Yet the underlying culture of Alpha does carry some assumptions about faith, God and Christian life that make it a particular type of pedagogy that the majority of Christians find uncomfortable (i.e., the number left globally when you subtract 25 million, which is around 2.5 billion), but cannot quite put the finger on why. 

First, Alpha gives a free pass to pragmatism.  If it looks like it works, it must be good. If we can’t see results quickly, it will almost certainly be time-consuming and expensive. This is not a helpful fundament to adhere to for valuing theology, which is a slow, slow discipline that takes decades for the seed to gestate into good fruit.

Second, Alpha is inherently mechanistic. The Bible itself is treated as a kind of instruction manual or guide book – there to fix matters when things go wrong, and to make sure other things work better. A vision for pedagogy founded on such assumptions will provide training and apprenticeships, but be suspicious of education and questions that the manual doesn’t address. Being on an Alpha Programme is a bit like being walked through a Haynes Car Manual over the course of ten weeks. I’ve nothing against Haynes Car manuals, by the way. I just don’t think I’d enjoy these being preached from the pulpit. Like the vast majority of Christians, I don’t go to church to be trained and equipped.

Third, if the goal of Alpha Programmes is training and equipping for greater growth and effectiveness, then of course, education – a pedagogy schooling students in the art of constructive dissent – will be largely unwelcome, as conformity to a blueprint is bound to be preferred to critical thinking. Sermons in training-based ecologies school congregations in compliance.

Fourth, sermons that flow from a revolutionary pedagogical model or dissenting educational ecology will challenge and disturb listeners. But hearers will learn to think, and engage in the tradition critically.  The mechanistic training model won’t do that; it would be like trying to argue with the instruction manual for a broken gas boiler. My advice? Don’t.

Fifth, salvation is packaged as an individualistic, quasi-Pelagian faith. I am with the present Pope, however, who in paraphrasing Saint Francis of Assisi has often remarked that “no one is saved alone; we can only be saved together.” (cf. Fratelli Tutti, 32). We cannot be judged alone, and we cannot be saved alone.

I’ll concede the difference between training and education is a characterisation. That said, the training model will deliver mechanistic instructions and techniques, based on its assumptions of revelation and the relationship between divine and human agency. The educational model will see revelation as complex, requiring critical interrogation, imagination and interpretation.

At present, the vast majority of Church of England bishops are locked into supporting the mechanistic training model. The long-term consequences for such short-termism are yet to be seen, but are likely to result in a thinner grasp of the richness of faith amongst congregations, and a sense amongst the laity that they are only being “equipped” with “tools and techniques” to achieve certain ends, which are nominated by bishops in strategies, plans and visions.

Whilst teaching that offers techniques that are orientated in mechanistic, pragmatic, restorative, overhauling and expansive aspirations for the faith, an enormous range of teaching is excluded by such prioritisation. Perhaps this is inevitable given the pragmatics. After all, many clergy are now ordained after studying for two years, which in fact turns out to be around twenty months.

I might add they work very, very hard, and at considerable cost to them and their families/partners/supporters and friends. But this is hardly akin to the seven years of education and formation required of Jesuits. The Christian life, rather like Christmas or Easter, is not something you can learn from a Haynes Manual (see illustration below – a humorous book, obviously). The Christian life needs to be lived. We are always becoming Christian. Conversion is present and future tense, not one date to be marked up in the past tense.

The graduates of Alpha Programmes are now emerging. The courses that began almost fifty years ago have produced clergy, not all of whom have stuck with the blueprint. Some have recognised that their Alpha-Mater left them with holes in their Christian knowledge. The exclusions that will sometimes crop up in sermons and teachings are the fruit of mechanistic-pragmatic training models would cover, but not be confined to, critical thinking, imagination, wisdom, desert spirituality, analogy and poetry, deeper journeys into contemplative prayer, loyal dissent and authentic revolutionary theologies. These seek to resist oppression, confront oppressors, and transform the church with liberationist thinking. The job advertisements in the Church Times are instructive here. For the most part they focus on equipping and growth – the twin concerns of mechanistic-pragmatic paradigms in training ecologies.

Alpha hasn’t caused any of this, by the way.  There is no blame being apportioned here. The success of Alpha Programmes is merely a symptom of where the Church of England has got to and where some other denominations have arrived at in the 21^st century. But if the church is to survive, it might need to ask what pedagogical assumptions programmes like Alpha carry. And whether this packaging is, in fact, at some risk of veiling the revolutionary power and gift of the gospel.

Revd. Prof. Martyn Percy

The word Anglican is one of those words in the English language which has to be combined with another one, to allow us to know what group within the wide range of manifestations of Anglicanism a speaker is referring to.  It is used by a range of disparate and contrasting Christian groups which do not routinely agree with one another.  The reason for using the word descriptively may have more to do with the group’s history than with its current theological position.  The bodies which together make up such networks as ACNA (Anglican Church of N America) or GAFCON (Global Anglican Futures Conference) are groupings which may have members with little or no engagement with the classic expressions of the Anglican spirit.  Many come together to express a fierce biblical fundamentalism and an almost obsessive preoccupation with sexual ethics.  The two examples I have mentioned bring together Christian bodies that use the Anglican designation while simultaneously attacking other more mainstream Anglican groups for their believed ‘apostasy’ and deviation from a very conservative brand of ‘biblical orthodoxy’.

  Not long ago, the badge of being Anglican was invariably a claim to something which involved membership of a cross-cultural international Christian body reaching across the world.  That vision does, of course, still exist and is given some sort of expression at the Lambeth Conferences held in England every ten years.  Sadly, this inclusive vision of what it means to be an Anglican Christian has become less dominant over the past decades.  The fierce struggles to allow a conservative understanding of Christian marriage to define ‘true’ Anglicanism have weakened the wider Anglican vision which seeks to hold together a variety of Christian beliefs within a single body.  That struggle continues, but the casualty of this struggle has been a serious weakening of the wider church.  It is hard to share a Christian message of peace, healing and reconciliation when the main energy for your existence comes from a bitter, even obsessive, objection to the way that one minority group in society wishes to express and live out their understanding of marriage.

Among the many Anglican groups which exist in an impaired or broken relationship with the main body of Anglicans, which look to Canterbury for leadership, is a body called the Free Church of England (FCE).  This group maintains links with many other Anglican networks through its membership of the GAFCON organisation. The origins of the FCE in the 1840s do not concern us here, but it is sufficient to say that the debates among Anglicans about authority were then every bit as passionate as today.   My current interest in the FCE is sparked by news of serious power struggles within this tiny church which has only a few hundred members in the whole of Britain. The bishop Primus, John Fenwick, is facing some serious challenges to his leadership and there has been talk of financial/property irregularities as well as doctrinal disputes. 

Like other people taking a current interest in the FCE, my curiosity has also been piqued by the succession of unhappy members of the C/E who have found, for a time, a spiritual home in the FCE having made well publicised exits from the national Church.  Recently three well-known dissident Anglicans, Brett Murphy, Calvin Robinson and Matthew Firth have all received a welcome in the FCE after loudly protesting their failure to agree with their bishops and the discipline of the C/E.  The task of overseeing the ministries of these men cannot be easy, since each of them arrives at the door of a new church with a powerful, somewhat overwhelming, sense of their ability to know the will of God both for themselves and for their new church.  Calvin and Brett are also highly skilled and accomplished communicators.  Watching the YouTube of Calvin debate at the Oxford Union about marriage is to be impressed at his fluency and intellect.  Even though his politics and theology, coming from an ultra-right wing stable, are to be resisted, few would win arguments in the face of such eloquence.  All three possess gifts of conviction and rhetoric.  The problem is when those same gifts of rhetoric are used against authority.   A bishop in any church will find it hard to assert episcopal authority in the case of such powerful individuals.  Two of the three have, in fact, already parted ways with the FCE.  Calvin has moved on to the Nordic Catholic Church where he functions as a priest.    He had received Deacon’s orders at the hands of Bishop Paul Hunt of the FCE in 2022.  Something similar seems to have happened to the highly gifted Peter Sanlon who, for a short period, had taken his congregation in Tunbridge Wells into the FCA in 2019.  Sanlon’s congregation are now, since 2021, part of the Presbyterian denomination.  Brett’s sacking from the FCE and his position at Morecombe is a very recent development.  It is not clear whether this suspension will hold as the congregation, not the FCE, apparently owns the church plant and can, in theory, seek episcopal oversight wherever they wish.  Whatever the precise reason for this parting of the ways, I suspect that Brett’s influence through his social media presence will always prove a threat to any who claim canonical jurisdiction over him.  Whatever the reason, it does not bode well if the FCE cannot harness the abilities of such talented individuals to the plough of making the FCE whatever it is meant to become for the future of the Church.  Meanwhile, the last surviving member of the trio of recent recruits, Matthew Firth, has been put in charge of the work of planting churches in the north of Britain. The city of York has been mentioned as a possible centre for his future work.

My direct knowledge of the FCE is based on current internet discussions but I also have had some past acquaintance of both the men who are the current bishops in this Church.  In the case of John Fenwick, the FCE Primus and Bishop of the northern Province, we knew each other as students.   Both he and I had tapped the same source of scholarship funding to study the Orthodox Church.  His interest and later doctoral studies on the liturgy of St John Chrysostom were, at the time, somewhat novel for an evangelical (late 70s).   His continued interest in the Fathers of the Church still pervades his theology, as a YouTube of one of his sermons makes clear.  His exposure to Orthodoxy will undoubtedly have left its mark on his theological outlook.  Conservative and authoritarian forms of Orthodox theology of course exist, and these may have been imbibed by the young Fenwick.  They would not, in my judgement, find it straight-forward to co-exist easily with the conservatism of an evangelical Anglican like Brett Murphy or the distinctive Anglo-Catholic conservatism of Calvin Robinson.   The falling out with Brett may be a clash of theological outlook or more simply, an attempt by the individual with institutional power (John) to regain control over the one (Brett) who has considerable articulate and charismatic power.

 Para removed as I have got Bishop Paul H confused with another of the same name

It is clear from discussions on X (Twitter) that the FCE is going through some challenging times at present.  It remains to be seen if John (and Paul) can hold things together for the distinct and unusual brand of Anglicanism that he oversees and seeks to promote.  The culture wars at present raging among conservative churches must, anyway, be exhausting for leaders and weaken the ability of their congregations to flourish. Both FCE bishops are now in their 70s and one wonders what thoughts have been given to succession planning.  They both joined the FCE as fully trained C/E clergy.  Unless other clergy with gifts of episcopacy appear, the church may shrink back into being yet another cluster of local congregations lacking direction or sense of purpose.  Vision and potential for growth can only exist when there is imagination combined with strong leadership skills among those in charge. 

by Susan Hunt

Editor writes: The legal system in Britain has many strands; in particular there are two tasks it tries to perform well in delivering justice for our society.  The first thing is to apprehend and punish malefactors, those who break the law and cause harm to individuals and institutions in our society.  A second fundamental task is to determine when an accused person is in fact innocent. If anyone is declared ‘not guilty’, he/she can continue their life acquitted and free from the accusation made against them.  Justice systems are course not infallible and get things wrong on occasion.  Individuals may spend years in prison accused and sentenced for crimes they have not committed.  The police, courts and officials who work for the cause of justice, however conscientious, sometimes allow things to go awry.  Fortunately, we have in this country a further institution which may, on occasion, protest the guilt or innocence of individuals even after legal processes have apparently been exhausted. Despite its foibles and failures, the free British Press does sometimes act positively to promote the role of delivering justice.  Many miscarriages of justice, like the Post Office accusations, have been exposed because a journalist has been prepared to burrow away to uncover evidence that the professionals, the police, lawyers and judges, have somehow missed.

The administration of justice in Britain is an expensive enterprise.  Courts and prisons represent a huge investment of resources and personnel to provide a system that provides justice most of the time to serve the people of our society. It comes as surprise to many people to discover that the Church of England operates its own justice system. It does not operate prisons, but it has procedures and can make decisions which have force and authority, being backed up by the State. I hesitate in claiming to understand exactly how secular law and church law intersect but we have seen over the past week an illustration of the way that the alleged behaviour of one ordained individual, Canon Andrew Hindley of Blackburn Cathedral, interacted with the legal processes of both church and state.

The damage to the entire Church of England, and especially the cathedral and diocese at Blackburn, because of this Hindley affair has been considerable.  For reasons that are shrouded in mystery the prosecuting authorities of the state refused to involve itself with the case, despite numerous police investigations into Hindley’s behaviour. The church’s internal legal processes have faced an uphill task in taking action. In the end, the departure of Canon Hindley was only secured through the payment to him of a considerable sum of money. It is enormously expensive to force a high-profile church employee to resign and the saga of the former Bishop of Winchester comes to mind. The pay-off for Canon Hindley will also have been prohibitively high.  One questions as to whether these costs of possessing such an in-house legal structure are justified.  A further problem is that, at the local level at least, the skills and expertise to determine the guilt and innocence of accused employees/volunteers are frequently absent.  Would it not be cheaper, as Professor Jay suggested, to hand over the entire safeguarding process to be overseen by a secular body with the skills and authority to deliver reliable justice?  This would be in accordance with the norms and protocols developed for employment law.

While the application of church law is problematic at the national level, it also, not surprisingly, encounters issues of professional competence at the local/ diocesan level.  Surviving Church has for some years championed the cause of ‘Kenneth’, accused of sexual abuse by a church Core-Group appointed by a C/E diocese.  No proper examination of the facts of the case has ever been undertaken and the unqualified opinions of the group have declared him guilty.  The group has refused even to consider the possibility of his innocence. When justice is determined without legally competent methods being applied, the potential damage to an institution is considerable, quite apart from the pain suffered by the accused person.

 Susan Hunt takes up this story of highly damaging and legally incompetent behaviour.

Let us remind ourselves about the treatment of ‘Kenneth’ whose advocate,  I, Susan Hunt, have been, in relentlessly supporting his case for more than four years. This is a saga which is well documented, using objective information including Subject Access Request (SAR) documents.

Kenneth, an elderly ailing man of 79 years, was accused in March 2020 of sexually touching a chorister, an accusation he vehemently denies. He was refused not only an investigation but also the consideration of five pieces of significant evidence and a further one from the cathedral’s own records which might have exonerated him.

Kenneth’s case, is still, four and a half years later, without investigation or any scrutiny of evidence.  Such a serious accusation has led to the gravest of injustices.

For the details see: https://survivingchurch.org/2023/11/02/searching-for-truth-how-kenneth-has-been-failed-by-the-justice-system-of-the-church-of-england/

THE PROBLEM INCLUDES MANY OTHER PEOPLE

One case which bears similarities to that of Kenneth is that of the London priest, Father Alan Griffin.  He committed suicide because of the way he had been treated in a safeguarding case. Of him his close friend, the Revd Peter Mullen, spoke of “the nonchalant cruelty of the officials who destroyed his life.” In Kenneth’s case there are nine parallels to the case of Father Alan Griffin. The  Diocesan Safeguarding Adviser (DSA) in Kenneth’s case did not even bother to acknowledge the chart I made of the similarities; surely another case of ‘nonchalant cruelty’.

Martin Sewell wrote an open letter to the Chair of the Charity Commission, Mr. Orlando Fraser KC: 13 Dec 2022 signed by 51 others. A relevant paragraph reads:

‘We are all witnesses to a highly dysfunctional church culture – one lacking in care, wisdom and responsibility – uniformly poor in responses to allegations of abuse, and subsequent complaints about corrupted, cruel and inhumane processes. These have led to despair, suicides, travesties of justice, all perpetrating much longer term pastoral and personal damage on a colossal scale. Yet nobody in the Church of England takes any responsibility for this. We have no functional leadership in safeguarding.’

THE DIOCESAN SAFEGUARDING ADVISER

The blame for the bungling fiasco of Kenneth’s case seem to lie with the DSA.  Although she claimed she was following procedures in the House of Bishops Guidance, she failed to follow fifteen procedures relating to respondents in that document. Neither would she ever give a reference to any of the claims she stated even though asked many times. These were:

1.“Our role is to believe the complainant whatever he says and any evidence to the contrary is inadmissible”:

2. “Our role is to weigh the balance of probabilities. This essentially means that we are weighing up whether, ‘more likely than not’ there is a risk based on the allegation that has been made”:

3.“Our role is not to seek the truth”:

4.“Our role is not to investigate the allegation”:

5.”Our role is not to assign guilt but to manage risk for the safety of the church  and in so doing it is victim/survivor led”. 

There are many contradictions in the above statements, as the DSA seems to have pursued her own version of the truth. This ‘Alice in Wonderland’ situation of ‘verdict first, judgement afterwards” that has been arrived at after four years cannot easily be resolved. Neither can the mantra ‘the child must be believed’ . The Diocesan Safeguarding Core Group (DSCG) members were persuaded that they could trust the DSA on this and they have now found themselves in a corner from which there is no obvious way out.  In the same way that they trusted her judgement formed on a false assessment that Kenneth is High Risk. Now in that too there is no way back – the result of amateurs making professional decisions.

A piece of evidence from the choral registers which might well have exonerated Kenneth has been deliberately suppressed by the DSA. Although she knew it was legal to give Kenneth the information we learn that her most recent excuse for not giving it was that she said she looks at the case “through a safeguarding lens” (from SAR).  It is strongly suspected that not giving it for more than four years  is a cover-up to avoid divulging information which might exonerate Kenneth and incriminate one of their own.

The DSCG boast they instigated an ‘Independent Review’. Independent it was not: the reviewer had already worked alongside the DSA and he was only allowed to work within parameters laid down by the DSCG, which did not include any independent investigation of the allegation. Even so he strongly criticised the approach of the DSCG to the case.

Lord Carlile said of Safeguarding DSCGs that they are ‘undertaking legal work for which they are not trained’. Leaving the administration of justice to a group of legally unqualified amateurs taking the law into their own hands needs to be countered by a system of proper challenge and appeal. Professor Jay also found this a weakness in the system.

An example of illegal practice by amateurs is Kenneth’s Risk Assessment when he had been designated ‘High Risk’. This had been based on incomplete and false information including the DSA admitting they had confused Kenneth’s information with that of another person; even so it was still included in his assessment. The result was that he was ‘HIGH RISK’ – the same level as a convicted paedophile.

On July 22nd 2024 I asked the Diocesan Secretary ‘Could you tell me please what professional body, if any, regulates the Diocesan Safeguarding Adviser?’ There has been no answer to this simple yes/no question. So presumably she is not accountable to anyone. Even three bishops and a dean claim they ‘cannot intervene in the processes of a DSCG’.

INFORMATION FROM SAR

From SAR there is strong evidence that the conversations in DSCG were inappropriate and unprofessional. They made cruel and disparaging remarks about Kenneth personally, his life, friends and interests. They speculated about important issues regarding Kenneth which they should have known as part of the case. The speculation often led to downright lies which Kenneth could not challenge or dispute because he did not know they were being said.

From SAR In the privacy of their meetings they even try to blame Kenneth for the impasse for ‘not engaging with the process‘. By this, they mean he would not sign a document admitting his guilt. Although Kenneth insists he wants me and my husband to be present at meetings, that was refused because I am frequently criticised for my ‘interference’ which has ‘obstructed process’. We even find advice given to the Dean to hold meetings with Kenneth in his office as that is his territory with him in control of the space. Thus he can refuse us the right to be present to support Kenneth. In an attempt to resolve this problem from their point of view there have been DSCG discussions as to what to tell Kenneth so he refuses further help from me.

In an email found in SAR to an outside person written by the Dean, he claims that the DSCG had ‘made considerable efforts at justice, honesty and compassion for the victim’.  In the context in which it was written, ‘victim’ refers to Kenneth. So, it would seem that the Dean now realises that it is Kenneth who is the victim, but he can do nothing about it without the DSA’s agreement.

PROBLEMS FOR THE CATHEDRAL

The frustration for the cathedral in Kenneth’s case is that he has never signed any agreement plan admitting guilt. Without that final jigsaw piece, the case can never arrive at any complete resolution. So, although he can now attend the cathedral under certain conditions, he has been treated as though he accepts the DSCG’s judgement. Kenneth, however, does not believe that there is any intention to move towards his full and final rehabilitation.

I continue the task of supporting Kenneth with the encouragement of those who have followed this saga on Surviving Church.  Recently, Stephen and his wife watched an online service from St Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral in Edinburgh where there was a public adult baptism.  This included a promise by the candidate to ‘work for justice and peace, honouring God in all creation’.  This promise is stated more strongly than in the words of Common Worship where the baptismal pledge is to ‘seek peace and justice’.  For me, working for justice and peace through my efforts to obtain the complete rehabilitation of Kenneth, is part of my attempt to live out my Christian identity and vocation.

This story of Kenneth casts a shadow over the safeguarding processes, not just of one diocese, but through it, the entire C/E. By resisting the official institutional version of the truth, I, as an independent advocate, am challenging the competence and professionalism of many important church people,  They come to be seen as unsafe.  The only conclusion I can draw is that currently worshippers need to be warned that the C/E is a basically an unsafe organisation.  It is unsafe because because its much-vaunted safeguarding procedures are not themselves safe.

In Friday’s Church Times we read the story of the ‘commissioning’ of seven men to positions of leadership in conservative evangelical congregations opposed to the Living in Love and Faith (LLF) process.   This commissioning is one that authorises an individual, congregationally trained, to preside over a quasi-sacramental breaking of bread and perform other tasks associated with priesthood.  It took place at St Helen’s Bishopsgate and it clearly defies the canons of the Church of England. My own take on the events at St Helen’s Bishopsgate (and All Soul’s Langham Place) is not to repeat what others have said about the schismatic nature of these actions.  Rather I want to think about the young men, the Bishopsgate Seven as I shall call them, who are occupying a position of ecclesiological ambiguity for the present.  Their position within the structure of the C/E may eventually be regularised, but meanwhile their situation and status are outside the structures, legal and theological, that define our church.  How this conundrum is resolved, whether by a formal split or some other formula, is not for me to determine.  Only time will tell how this issue is to be played out.

Returning to the Bishopsgate Seven who occupy centre stage in the current drama, it is natural for us to observe how much they are all being placed in a situation of vulnerability as the result of this commissioning.   Although, currently, they have the institutional blanket of All Souls and St Helen’s to protect them from challenge, the fact remains that their situation is irregular and outside the statutes and legal structures that govern the Church of England.  They have allowed themselves to be clearly identified with an illegal action.  Their status as commissioned quasi-ordained church leaders is not, at present, recognised by church (or state) law.  The authority awarded them through the act of commissioning is entirely dependent on a protecting group of church leaders who are linked to the St Helen’s network.   These churches and their leaders appear to believe that their position of being extremely wealthy and ‘orthodox’ gives them the right to usurp the lawful authority that exists in the Church.   If this authorising group is challenged and the status quo of episcopal order restored, the Seven will lose whatever authority they had been granted by the commissioning event.  It is not surprising that, so far, the Bishopsgate Seven have not been named.  Congregations in the future may think twice about employing or appointing individuals who have been so clearly identified with an act of canonical defiance.  Anonymity serves as a necessary protection for the moment, but, realistically, it can only be a matter of time before the names of the Seven leak out into the public domain.

Allowing oneself to be party to an historic act of canonical defiance carries with it risk.  If you are a retired bishop, like Rod Thomas, or the Rector of a wealthy prestigious church like William Taylor at St Helen’s Bishopsgate, the risks are clearly less.  You have substantial institutional power, having arrived in a position where few would dare challenge your authority, even if you are seen to be acting to undermine the integrity of the Church of England by defying its structural and canonical norms.  The risks to the group of anonymous commissioned leaders, the Bishopsgate Seven, are, by contrast, substantial.   If their names become associated with this canonical act of defiance, one that may be declared invalid by both church and state, these young leaders will be seen to have made, right at the start of their ministry, a poor decision and one that may blight their entire careers.

I want to think here about the motivations of the Bishopsgate Seven which allow them to accept an irregular form of commissioning at the start of their ministerial careers.  Their association with St Helen’s or one of its satellites during training is likely to have given each of these men a unique sense of spiritual privilege.  There was inevitably for them a considerable buzz and energy from being part of one of the most important conservative parishes in the world.  They have been trained in a church which hosted the ministry of such preaching luminaries as Dick Lucas.   The current Rector is also widely known and clearly possesses considerable institutional influence within many C/E conservative networks.  The Seven may each hope that this being close to such heroes, past and present, will somehow rub off on their own ministries.  The presence of this kind of hero worship as a dynamic of church life appears to be a significant factor in conservative evangelical circles.  Conspicuously, the now discredited Jonathan Fletcher does seem to have excelled at the art of captivating and impressing large numbers of followers (groupies?), young and middle-aged, right up to the end of his authorised ministry in 2017.   With his ability to exercise charisma alongside considerable patronage power right across the structures of the con-evo world, Fletcher possessed a powerful influence, one not granted even to Diocesan bishops.  This institutional power was also enhanced because the theological system he operated within was always prioritising the need for inerrant truth.  Theological systems which promote infallibility and leaders who claim to promote such ‘truth’ are, for their followers, very powerful indeed.  Those who attach themselves to the holder of such power believe they share it in some way and are thus protected from external challenge.

The Bishopsgate Seven have each attached themselves to an institution (St Helen’s) and the leaders in the network who exercise the power that is possessed by the group.  We can name two.   The first is the Rector, William Taylor, and the second is the commissioning Bishop, Rod Thomas.  Each of these leaders has openly identified with this act of institutional and theological defiance.  Their actions will be challenged but nothing will happen to either of them in terms of their current status.  Each of the Seven, on the other hand, have allowed themselves to be party to this act of defiance, confident in the power of their admired leaders to protect them.  Is this trust in the leaders justified?  There is something to suggest that, while both leaders named do still have considerable institutional and patronage power, their current reputation and status as respected leaders in and out of the network is being subjected to challenge.  Back in June 2019, when the Jonathan Fletcher scandal erupted into public consciousness via the Daily Telegraph, there was enormous consternation in the circles where Fletcher had been such a dominant figure.  Taylor, as Rector of the most prominent church in the con-evo network had little to say about the scandal of power abuse and homo-erotic behaviour at Emmanuel Wimbledon.  His subsequent silence on the matter lasted over a year. He claimed at the time that he had himself heard of Fletcher’s activities only in February 2019.  Rumours of improper behaviour had been flying around since 2017 and Fletcher’s PTO from the Diocese of Southwark had been withdrawn the same year.  Another salient fact which challenges Taylor’s account of events, was the removal of Fletcher from the Iwerne camp in the summer of 2017.  We are asked to believe that neither fragment of news had reached Taylor in 2017, even though he was actively involved with Fletcher through their common trusteeship of a charity known as St Peter’s Canary Wharf Trust (known as St Peter’s Barge).  If we do accept Taylor’s testimony that, as the unofficial leader of the entire con-evo network in England, he had heard nothing of the rumours, we are led to conclude that his leadership fell short.  His style of leadership evidently did not include keeping his ear to the ground and making sure, as good leaders do, that he knew what was going on in the constituency over which he had considerable control and oversight.

The part played by Rod Thomas also does not inspire us with confidence.  He had entered the charmed circles of con-evo ‘royalty’ via a different route from the majority of ex-public-school Iwerne men who are prominent in these circles.  He had been a member of Fletcher’s congregation in Wimbledon from the time before Fletcher arrived in 1982.  He was thus able to be mentored by Fletcher as a teenager, student and ordinand right up to his appointment as bishop.  We are asked to believe that Thomas saw and heard nothing untoward about the behaviour of the older man all through this long association.  It is unclear whether Thomas was acting as an innocent/dupe. Whatever explanation is brought forward for his inability to see what was going at Emmanuel Wimbledon during Fletcher’s 30 year ministry there, we are not given confidence to believe that Bishop Thomas is a good observer or judge of character.   Complete failure of curiosity is the most generous interpretation of the facts we can give to justify the leadership lapses shown by these two men.  Other interpretations could be offered.  Has the long-term identification with the St Helen’s brand, as represented by these individuals, really been a rational choice on the part of the Bishopsgate Seven?

My focus in this blog has not been about the canonical issues involved in the Bishopsgate commissioning.  It is about the apparent public weaknesses in two leading men involved in the irregular commissioning that puts at risk the welfare of seven individuals. An illegal event has taken place to further a political agenda.  There is a long-term struggle to make the Church of England conform to an agenda of ‘biblical orthodoxy’ which flies in the face of Anglican history and tradition.  Seven idealistic young men appear have allowed themselves to be identified with this struggle.  They cling to an institution and to its leaders even though there is evidence of serious past failings in this leadership.   When we learned in 2020 that Taylor, as a young adult, was himself a victim of John Smyth in the notorious garden shed in Winchester, there were immediate questions as to whether Taylor could have used his direct knowledge of these events to help prevent subsequent victims in England and Africa suffering harm.  Is this yet another example of the institution prevailing over the interests of individuals?  Important abusive leaders, like Smyth and Fletcher, both remained unchallenged for a long period because in the conservative culture the cause of institutional power took precedence over the pain of individuals.  The recent events in a London church may be a manifestation of a further example of this indifference to the true needs of ordinary people like the Bishopsgate Seven.  The real goal seems to be the ambitious plan to take over the Church of England in the name of ‘biblical orthodoxy.’   The needs and welfare of individuals perhaps will always take second place to such a grand scheme and the political demands of powerful organisations.

by Vivienne Tuffnell

The news that there’s a move afoot to remove the term spiritual abuse from the categories of abuse in the church has left me dismayed. It shows the total lack of awareness of both what spiritual abuse IS and its long term effects on a person. Currently listed as a form of emotional and psychological abuse (which is fair), it’s my belief that spiritual abuse is a gateway for other forms of abuse that include sexual and physical abuse. Just as sexuality is considered an integral part of a human being’s make up, so too is spirituality, even in those who would consider themselves non-religious.

I have been a victim of a variety of abuse but I believe that the spiritual abuse may well have been instrumental in laying me open to the others. I grew up in a non-religious home where church-going was not a thing; previously both my parents had practised a Christian faith but by the time of my first memories, this had fallen by the wayside. As a small child I was fascinated by the numinous and aged 6 I made a shrine in my bedside cabinet using the nativity from an old Christmas card as an icon, surrounding it with whatever beautiful things I could find. I performed rituals for pet funerals, incorporating the concept of holy water. At the start of secondary school we were all given a Gideon bible, the New International translation rather than the much less accessible King James bible. I immediately began reading it daily, and began attending a local free church where I made a profession of faith aged 12. Ironically, it was my mother’s distrust of this church (she thought I was joining a cult!) that sent me to the local Anglican church, which is where steadily I became laid open for abuse. I’ve always been an oddball: unusual, intellectual and often felt alienated from my peer group at school. A few years ago, in my early fifties, I was diagnosed as autistic. Anecdotally, autistic people are often perceived as different, and are marginalised and often persecuted; I desperately wanted to be included in something beyond my immediate family and to have friends. In my later teens a youth fellowship group began, led by a pair of young couples. I have some fond memories of this group and some uneasy ones. We went away as a group for a week at Easter when I was 17, where the first identifiable instance of spiritual abuse took place. As an introvert I realise now I had become uncomfortable with the communal living and had become withdrawn and angry, needing my own space desperately, to recalibrate. One of the leaders took me aside to the retreat leader, an Anglican clergyman of the charismatic persuasion, who prayed over me, laid hands on me, to dispel or cast out the perceived “oppression” by spirits. This event played on my mind ever after.

Fast forward a year to my first term at university when the Anglican Chaplaincy ran a weekend retreat to Kinmel Hall in North Wales. These retreats were intense hot-houses of all sorts of experiences, and the rising tide of signs-and-wonders experiences, with charismatic worship, had been bursting out in the student chaplaincy for some time before this weekend. During the course of it, I again experienced the discomfort of communal living and that was made worse by noise at night stopping me sleeping. By the Sunday morning, I was angry and withdrawn and wanted to get out. I absented myself from the Communion service and went and hid on my bunk. I was crying and distressed. Someone from my fellowship group had spotted me crying, and had fetched the student leader of that group, and another former student who was an Anglican ordinand. These two people then proceeded to perform an exorcism on me, refusing to allow me to leave and forcing me to submit. At the time, I believed in such things and was terrified, of them and of what they implied was afflicting me. Afterwards they told me I must tell no-one, and left me to mop up. They offered me no support or guidance or any sort of debriefing of what had happened. I internalised the experience, ending up believing I was weak, a vessel for evil, and at risk of further possession.

The rest of my first year at university went downhill rapidly, with nightmares and anxiety leaving me exhausted and scared, and desperate for support that was not forthcoming. I had already been struggling with eating, but I stopped eating, became anorexic and eventually my body completely rebelled. After a tumultuous year I came down with mumps and viral meningitis a week or so before my exams and was very poorly indeed. At least one other person from my fellowship group experienced something very similar at the hands of the same student leader and had a total breakdown and left university completely. I have often wondered what happened to her. By the end of the summer holidays (which I spent in my digs) I was so mentally unwell I made a suicide attempt. It was a turning point. I didn’t get any help but somehow, a corner had been turned. I had realised I had been losing myself. The belief that I am somehow evil, weak, stupid and so on, still resurfaces, especially when I am tired and unwell. Knowing myself now, I can see that at no point was there anything spiritually wrong with me; yet everyone was constantly talking about evil spirits infiltrating society, oppressing people or worse. The idea of spiritual warfare was a topic for almost every conversation and bible study. I discovered in my mid forties that I have a connective tissue disorder; along with being very bendy, suffering pain and dislocations, it comes with anxiety and depression (with this condition you are 20x more likely to suffer from anxiety and panic disorders). In those days, among the people I moved with, depression and anxiety were seen as lack of faith or worse, a sign that you are being targeted by demonic forces.

In the years since then, I have found it impossible to be a true part of a faith community. Even the Quakers, who I consider to be my closest match for a spiritual home, I cannot commit to fully. My husband is a vicar; when I attend church (which I do sometimes) I have to sit near an exit. I can only tolerate services with either no music or very traditional music; chorus or modern worship music sets my hackles off. Both my trips to Taizé in France were marred by the unease the chants engendered in me. I will not now attend any smaller groups, and have startled people who have offered to pray with me by refusing vociferously. Certain words, phrases and attitudes make me recoil. A tiny, barely-surfaced vocation to priesthood has been strangled and buried almost before birth. I exist on the margins of faith, passionately interested and equally passionately repelled. As I get older, cPTSD affects me more and more, with multiple triggers and factors.

A secular response to the abuse I experienced (this is just a sample of some of it) would be to tell me to just leave it all alone, have nothing further to do with churches or faith groups. Yet this is something I cannot do. Spirituality is a thread running through me from earliest childhood; to cut and remove that thread is to cut the warp on which my being is strung. Just as sexuality is at the core of a person, so too is spirituality. Like other abuse spiritual abuse is about power and control, often masquerading as concern for the well-being and soul of another person. It was watching the documentary on Bishop Ball that made me realise that what had happened to me was abusive; I had internalised much of it, unconsciously seeing it as being my own fault. I spoke at length to the safeguarding officer but at this point, too much time has elapsed. Continuing further would potentially destroy my mental health, such as it is. Many of us are left in this position of knowing there can be no justice, no reparations, no changes.

Such things still go on. There is a resurgence of those patterns of behaviour and beliefs. Though it’s sometimes couched in slightly different language, it’s the same animal. The prevalence of it is still unknown, but if an outsider like me recognises it’s going on, then it’s on the brink of becoming a scandalous problem. It’s my feeling that unless the issue of spiritual abuse is taken seriously, there can be no progress in terms of growth. Nor should a church that has hidden, dismissed, concealed, condoned and even encouraged so many forms of abuse have any right to growth. The fact that it is considering withdrawing the term spiritual abuse is a red flag, because it strongly suggests that it does not consider it a real thing at all.

In my account I have deliberately avoided using emotive language or dramatic prose in describing what happened to me, but nonetheless I must assure readers of the horror of what I experienced and its lasting effects on me. I hope that it helps someone, somewhere, understand better the consequences of such experiences.