For various reasons which I cannot explain here, I no longer preach in church.  Like the other members of the congregation in my local parish, I sit in the pew and seek edification from the sermons that are presented.  I make here no generalised comment about the sermons I hear, but I do confess to having one frequent distracting thought.  This is perhaps to be expected in a retired preacher.    The question I often have in my mind is this:  If I had the responsibility for preaching today, which aspects of the readings would I wish to explore in a sermon?

These musings normally have a congregation of just one, so I thought it would be interesting to see whether my thoughts of today (November 7^th) could be turned into a blog post.  In other words, I offer today notes on a sermon that was in my mind, but which was not in fact preached.

 In our church we used the three readings for the third Sunday before Advent.  The first was the account of Jonah preaching to the enormous city of Nineveh, where, much to his chagrin, the people repented, making God’s destruction of the city unnecessary.  The second was a passage from Hebrews 9 and the third was the account of Mark describing the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.  Here Jesus announces the nearness of the kingdom of God and the need for repentance. 

I have always found the Epistle to the Hebrews a work full of fascinating insights.  I once had to read and study it thoroughly as it was a set text at university.  At the very beginning of these studies, I was greatly relieved to be released by all the commentaries from having to suppose that the epistle was written by Paul.    My NEB version simply refers to it as ‘a letter to Hebrews’.  The consensus is that the author is an anonymous writer, possibly from Alexandria, working in a distinctive Hellenised Jewish culture.  Nothing in the actual text requires us to ascribe it to Paul himself.

Although a very early date is sometimes suggested for the epistle to Hebrews, theologically speaking the gospels always take precedence over the epistles.  In Mark’s reading we have those intriguing words of Jesus: ‘the kingdom of God has come near, repent and believe the good news’.  Members of a congregation will have heard these words many times before, but the preacher needs to suggest that it is very easy for us to misinterpret or read our own meanings into these words.  It is important to ponder what the kingship or rule of God might involve.  The effort to interpret these words will necessitate some exercise of the imagination.  As a place to start, I would suggest that the kingdom of God is quite simply that place where God’s rule or will is in operation.   The important thing is that we think of the kingdom as an active reality, a power, a dynamic moving towards us in the words and actions of Jesus, seeking to claim our allegiance and attention.  The act of receiving this movement of God towards us requires that we turn to face him.  The 180 degree turn is what is implied in this much misunderstood word translated ‘repent’.  The word is a translation of the Greek word ‘metanoeite’.  This word implies much more than the English word repent suggests.  There is this further meaning of openness and receptivity.  In other words, Jesus is telling us to be open and alert to a new movement of God which his ministry is inaugurating.  It is not only a movement located to a particular moment in time.  God’s kingdom is to be a constant reality in our lives.  This reality has come near and every time we close our eyes in prayer or worship we may encounter it.  We should also increasingly learn to be sensitised to kingdom reality in our relationships, especially in those who need our help. The saying of Jesus which begins ‘Inasmuch as you did it to the least …..’ comes to mind, One visual illustration of this process would be to liken receiving the kingdom as being like  getting into a river and allowing the water to rush right over our heads, so that we are thoroughly drenched with it.

The second part of the address would be an attempt to link the Hebrews passage to Mark’s account of the Kingdom.  Probably, for time reasons, I could not do this in the course of a single sermon.  But there is one central point in the Hebrews epistle which I believe needs to be grasped by members of a congregation.   Most people trying to read this epistle are thoroughly defeated by the extensive typology of Jewish sacrifice with which the book is loaded.  But there is one simple reality which the book is trying to share with us, even though the language it uses is often highly complex and convoluted. ‘ Jesus entered heaven’, Hebrews tells us, ‘now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf’.  This one sentence sums the whole argument of the book in the space of a few words.  What is it saying?   It is saying that Jesus in his death and resurrection comes with us into God’s presence.  The words ‘with us’ are key.  Humanity, that of Jesus and of ourselves, is caught up in this movement towards God.  Somehow God accepts us because we are in him.  As the old communion hymn puts it, ‘look on us as found in him’.

To put this Hebrews message even more simply, I would remind my audience of an experience of going to see someone important when a child.   The child is in awe of the powerful person, the new headmaster or some other exalted being whom they have not yet met.  The situation is, however, rectified because someone elects to accompany the child as he/she enters the august presence.  Metaphorically we hold the hands of our protector so that we can meet the important person with our head held high.  Our weakness and nervousness caused by our extreme youth is counteracted by having the hand of our protector to hold.  Something like this is being described in Hebrews.  Jesus is the one who opens the door, holds our hand and stands alongside us as we come into the presence of God himself.  In a small way this happens every time we pray or receive the sacrament.  The promise of Hebrews is that this  support or solidarity with us is a permanent reality so that we, with all who identify with Christ, can ultimately hope to be united with God in a dimension of light and glory beyond time and space. 

The message of the sermon that was not preached last Sunday is that there are two distinct modes of encounter with God in Christ on the Christian journey.  One is as we encounter him moving towards us in the divine mystery we describe as the Kingdom.  The other is in and through the act of our identification with Christ in his ascent to heaven. Because we belong to him, identify with him, we can share his access to the Father.  Both movements towards Christ by a Christian pilgrim are outside time.  Because we think in literal terms, we might want to describe these encounters with God using the language of space – up and down.   Such spatial ideas must never be taken too literally but the language of symbol can often help us to grasp divine realities.

This blog post is probably aimed more at the audience with which I started eight years ago in 2013 than the more recent readers.  These early followers were the Christian survivors for whom faith had been made hard by authoritarian dogmatism or those who had been treated appallingly by their leaders in acts of abuse.  Those who find my reflections helpful on this blog may value these attempts explain my way through the numerous stumbling blocks that Christianity is so good at erecting to confuse and discourage us.  This would-be sermon is offered to any who need encouragement to see things a little more clearly along their Christian pilgrimage.

One of the advantages of growing older is that I have many more memories to recall than those that are available to a younger person. Recently I found myself thinking back to my days as a member of Keble College Oxford in the mid-60s.  Our Warden, Austin Farrer, was a highly eccentric individual, a priest steeped in a version of Anglo-Catholicism which, even then, seemed somewhat old-fashioned. I was in the college choir, and it was said that the organ scholar had been encouraged to choose mass settings with lengthy versions of the Agnus Dei to make space for the Warden’s devotions at that part of the service. I got a further insight into these devotions when, at weekday services, I sometimes acted as a server. The devotions lasted just as long in these said services, and they were distinctively accompanied by much tapping of the chest.  The words that were offered sotto-voce in prayer seemed to be prayers and sections of the psalms in Latin. This added to the strangeness and solemnity of the occasion. 

The act of coming before the altar to declare one’s unworthiness of God’s mercy and grace is evoked for me by this memory of the distinctive sound of chest tapping all those years ago. I do not use Latin nor chest tapping but I picked up from the Warden something about the importance of humble reverence before the consecrated sacrament.  This has never left me. A single word surrounds this distinctive Anglo-Catholic piety in the presence of the sacrament – unworthiness.  The prayers of approach all seem to repeat this sentiment, ‘I am not worthy to receive you’. 

This sense of unworthiness in Catholic piety is something that I am not qualified to speak about with any expertise, but I think it would be true to say that it is a key sentiment within Catholic devotional practice.  Alongside it comes the distinctive Catholic concern for purging of sin following confession, public or private. Whatever we individually think about sacramental confession these days, the aim of the practice seems to have the worthy goal of increasing self-knowledge in the individual penitent.  A major problem for Christians and for everybody else is a common tendency to have false ideas about one’s own personality and character.  The ancient Greeks took very seriously the importance of learning the truth about oneself.  Today we are far more likely to go in the opposite direction, creating an image of ourselves which we think is appealing to others, but which may not be engaging much with our core selves. The narcissist, about whom we are constantly speaking on this blog, is a prime example of this behaviour taken to an extreme. In its fully developed version, narcissism is all about show and no substance. The people around the narcissist are expected to collude with this false image put out by the afflicted one.  These colluding ‘friends’ are kept in place by a combination of the threat of the narcissist’s irrational anger and the use by him/her of flattery and other forms of manipulative behaviour. The whole thing ends up as a kind of dance around the narcissist.  One thing that has effectively been banished is any true self-knowledge, the kind that Catholic forms of confession were supposed to uncover and then respond to appropriately.

It is, of course, not just Catholic traditions that teach about the work of self-knowledge, repentance, and forgiveness.  Words used by Christians in every tradition, like contrition, mortification, remorse, and sorrow all play a part in describing the feelings of a convicted sinner.  There is, however, a danger of developing obsessive behaviour in this task of self-examination.  Here we merely note the existence of a pit of despair where some Christians find themselves in their efforts to be freed from sin.  Clearly some boundary has been crossed where healthy self-knowledge has changed into unhealthy morbid obsessive feelings. It would be the task of a spiritual director to guide the penitent out of this place of despair.  The opposite failing is that of an over-optimistic detachment from the core self, where there is always the potential for fallible sinful behaviour.  This remains the commoner scenario.  What is true of the individual is also true of the group.  We have often noticed occasions when whole swathes of Christians have somehow been unable to identify the enormity of sinful behaviour taking place in their midst.  Typically, an influential but flawed Christian leader has gained a controlling influence in this constituency or network of churches.  Their importance or charismatic status somehow means that everyone expects them to be beyond the possibility of wrongdoing.  Charisma and the dynamics of narcissism have then skewed the ability of large groups of people to see evil and to recognise that they and their leaders are capable of the most dreadful forms of damaging behaviour. 

The classic text in the New Testament about self-examination and self-knowledge is the passage about the tax-gatherer and the Pharisee.  This audience will know the story well.  It was the tax-gatherer who stood afar off and ‘beat upon his breast’ who left the Temple ‘justified’.   The behaviour of the tax-gatherer reminds one of Psalm 51 where there is confession of sin without any attempt to make excuses or mitigating explanations. ‘Against thee only have I sinned and done evil in thy sight….. thou requirest truth in the inward parts.’  The Bible does not give any encouragement to us that we can bury our failings, either by excuses or by observing a silence that would somehow magically make the whole thing go away.

In the aftermath of the exposure of the Smyth/Fletcher scandals and the publication of Graystone’s book, I looked for some response or reaction from those Christians who acted as the complicit bystanders and enablers of Smyth and Fletcher.  Surely, I thought, there will be at least one person who would publicly recognise the way they had been caught up in a cult-like movement which made them, even indirectly, complicit in the evil?  When sin on an industrial scale is exposed, one looks to some bystanders to be able to stand up and say:  ‘Help! I was blind, misled or bamboozled into thinking that all was well.  It wasn’t and what can I now do to help put things right?’  That voice of the concerned but guilty bystander has been completely missing, at least in public.  There have been no cries of: ‘If only I had known earlier then I would have worked to support and love the victims of these appalling evils.’ 

The silence of leaders in the Church Society/ReNew/Titus constituency, in responding to Graystone’s revelations, has been deafening. One can only suggest that it seems a sensitivity for recognising evil, individual and corporate, has been somehow blunted for many Christians.  Is it that the topic of sin in this conservative culture has become so bound up with the issue of sexual partnerships, that the network no longer has the energy to face other more serious failings, like those of ignoring the needs of a wounded neighbour?  Is concern for reputation, power and money so much more important than following the example of the tax-gatherer in the Lucan passage?   It was striking that one leader, who could, a long time ago, have done so much to stave off the pain of countless others, chose, with his supporters, to attack Graystone rather than showing an ounce of self-scrutiny or self-examination for his part in the whole narrative. 

Alongside the failures of the Titus etc network to show evidence of understanding that the Christian faith involves acknowledging fault and sin, we also have the tone-deaf response of the wider Church to the broad range of safeguarding failures.  Nowhere among the many apologies to survivors put out by bishops and archbishops do we hear the genuinely remorseful tone adopted by the author of Psalm 51.  Rather we hear the PR language of ‘lessons will be learned’, sincere personal apologies and regret.  If only the statements from the centre could sometimes convey a real human response of human vulnerability and even brokenness that is appropriate to the occasion. If only these episcopal expressions of sorrow could reflect what we learn of repentance from Luke’s tax-gatherer.

Returning to the memory with which this reflection began, I realise that the sound of the chest being tapped has communicated to me something further about the nature of sin, something which seems to bypass many in today’s church.  The gentle smiting of one’s own chest is a symbolic acceptance of each individual’s personal responsibility for sin. This tap on the chest is pointing us back to ourselves and nowhere else.   We cannot hide or unload that responsibility on to other people or an institution.  In any attempt to remove ourselves from responsibility, we allow evil to fester because no one else is going to own up to it or take responsibility for it.  This ‘pass the parcel’ approach to the evil of abuse has created a monster that has been destructive and deeply damaging to the Church.  What we and the whole Church need to see and identify with is the tax-gatherer standing afar off who ‘would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat upon his breast, saying: “God have mercy on me, sinner that I am”.’

It is a prudent part of managing a large company anywhere in the world to employ specialists in public relations and communications.  Such people will have the background to speak to the press and write all the documents needed to maintain a good impression with the watching press and the general public.  At an annual general meeting, a CEO will no doubt call on his/her publicity experts to help the framing of the address so that the strengths of the company are well presented and then reported in the press the following day.

The work of public relations specialists is no doubt a key component of corporate business life everywhere.  We know that the good reputation of a company really matters.  In the case of a company with a quotation on the stock exchange, good publicity will boost the price, while stories of mistakes or bad behaviour will do the opposite.   Even those of us who do not hold shares are indirectly caught up in this market.  Whether or not companies flourish is of importance to the whole of society.   The pensions of millions depend on decent valuations of quoted companies.  Consequently, it matters to all of us that the companies are run efficiently and ethically. Only on Monday we heard about a report concerning the departure of the CEO of Barclays, Jes Staley.  He had been linked to the notorious Jeffrey Epstein and this resulted in a fall in the value of Barclays shares.

The Church of England, like other large organisations, employs specialists in public relations as well as communications experts.   They will maintain websites and make sure that the press has a place to go to to find out information and understanding of new initiatives taken by the national Church.   Each individual diocese will also maintain their own departments for this kind of work locally.  These of course will vary in size according to the relative size and wealth of the diocese.  In recent years, we would expect that these communication departments will have grown.  The exponential rise in information with the arrival of the internet has had the effect of creating a need for more communication specialists.  Experts are also needed to monitor the way that that information about the Church, good and bad, is being shared with the public. I entertain the fantasy that even something as ordinary as this blog is being monitored by someone working for the national Church. Someone needs to make sure that the opinions of ordinary people are somewhere recorded and filed away in a database.

Ii is instructive to watch the way that public companies react when some major crisis arises over their governance or performance.  At the start of a crisis, the publicity machine sends out a reassuring message that everything is under control and that the Board, or whoever is in charge, has contingency plans to get through the crisis. Then, at some point in the middle of any crisis, we see a different tone being injected into the communication bulletins that emerge from the company.  It is at this point that we may detect that the task of communication has been handed over to external specialists – the crisis/scandal management team.  These are the bought-in specialists who offer their services to companies in crisis. They do the difficult task of selling a failing or possibly dishonest company to a public whose trust in the company is under severe strain.

Until I started writing this blog, I had never heard of the expression crisis or scandal management.   I had no knowledge that it was possible to employ people to defend an organisation when it was up against the wall in terms of its reputation and integrity.  It does of course make some sense for such people to exist, as they make attempts to preserve a company from collapse and bankruptcy.   No doubt, in the task of defending the collapsing company, they may have been obliged to exaggerate or bend the truth to accommodate the needs of the moment.   But perhaps that is all par for the course.  Lies or, at any rate, half-truths are to be expected when so much is at stake.  If the institution does finally collapse, the bent truths that may have been told in its defence somehow get forgotten.  The world moves on and there is a corporate shrug of the shoulders with the realisation that some people will do anything and use deceit to preserve assets and wealth.

Having been ignorant of the existence of reputation/crisis management, I was quite surprised to discover that it is not just companies that use such specialists but also the church.  The challenge to the institution caused by numerous safeguarding failures has meant that parts of the church have been obliged to retain the service of not just their own public relations departments but also these external crisis specialists.  There is one particular firm favoured by the Church of England for reputation management, Luther Pendragon (LP).  This firm has been retained at considerable expense by the dioceses of London and Winchester, among others. I make no judgement as to the nature or quality of its services.  Rather I have to question why any English diocese should ever need to go to specialists beyond their own publicity departments.  The use of crisis/scandal management firms seems to be an ominous decision for any church or diocese to follow.

There is an interesting and revealing section of Graystone’s book, Bleeding for Jesus, when he describes the meeting he had with the Titus trustees.  They were having to face the revelation of extensive evidence of Smyth’s malfeasance, and they wanted Graystone to help them manage it.  Graystone recommended that they make a clean admission of the material they had and appoint someone to investigate Smyth and how the situation had arisen.  The trustees ignored his advice and opted for the path of secrecy with the hope that the scandal would remain hidden. Of course, it did not and the damage to the Iwerne brand and the supporting organisations has been enormous.   Truth is one thing that refuses to be buried for ever.

The use of public relations skills is probably always a legitimate path for an organisation to follow.  Introducing this further expertise of reputation/crisis management advice from outside does, however, raises alarm bells.  The innocent outsider will immediately ask the question: what have they got to hide?  When secrets become endemic in any organisation, the spiritual and psychological health begins to decline. We learn that LP’s expertise has been valued by English dioceses such as Winchester, London, Oxford as well as Christ Church College and the central C of E.  The question that we need to ask each of them is, what have you got to hide that you need such specialist help?  There is enough in the public domain to suggest that the workload for LP in responding to each of these clients has been extensive.  This has ensured a considerable flow of funds from the offerings of the church faithful to the highly paid consultancy directors.

The world of public companies is such that we can understand any desperate publicity attempts to stop them collapsing with all the damage that will result to wealth and well-being.  The Church, perhaps, should be a world apart from the corporate commercial world.  We would like to believe that the Church in every manifestation will be a place of integrity, honesty and openness to truth.  Why would the Church ever need the services of crisis management specialists?  If we learn that such specialists are being used to manage reputations and crises, that will send a corporate shudder through the whole church. The ordinary member will rightly question what else is going on when the Church believes it important to pay people to promote secrecy and suppress information.  They will again keep asking the question, what have they got to hide?  When trust starts to go, then so much else disappears.

Crises will happen to any organisation.  When they happen, then, as Graystone advised Titus, the best approach is to make a clean breast. People generally accept the existence of scandal in an organisation as long as they feel they are not being lied to at the same time.  In the recent eruption of safeguarding scandals, people have found that they have been lied to by authority figures in the Church who might have known better.  Few people now trust the Church to manage safeguarding, but the Church still clings to its power in this as though it can manage it inhouse.  The tales of incompetence increase, and the bonds of trust decrease between leaders and led.  How long before the system breaks apart through the dissolution of these invisible bonds between the faithful in the pew and their leaders?  I cannot answer that question, but I can continue to challenge the Church to become more a place of integrity, truth and transparency.  It does not need crisis management firms to make a success of that.  It just needs to pay greater attention to its own foundation documents.  It needs to hear one statement repeated.  It is the truth that will set you free.

Few people go through a career without at some point experiencing work-place bullying.  It probably happens to most people, even if only as a single episode. The effect is still wounding.  Two groups in society might hope to avoid this particular experience of pain.  One is the group of workers who work for themselves.  These include the self-employed tradespeople and others who have their own businesses. Also, there is another group who can withdraw from stressful interactions with others which may involve bullying.  These are the bosses, those who reach the top of a hierarchy.  They still have to negotiate stress, but the stress involved in making decisions and being in charge is apparently less damaging to well-being than being at the sometimes arbitrary beck and call of a work boss.

New insights about the way that everyday workplace stress affects the health and longevity of individual lives were uncovered by two UK government sponsored studies of the civil service starting in the 1960s.   These were conducted by Sir Michael Marmot, a distinguished epidemiologist. His task was to examine the health of civil servants and to find out if the place of an individual within the well-defined hierarchy of the civil service could be correlated with levels of health and mortality.  The findings excluded things like pre-existing conditions etc., but what was uncovered was still striking. In summary, quality of health and life expectancy went up as the individual rose in the ranks.  The bosses at the top enjoyed significantly better quality of health than those working at the bottom of the pyramid.  The issue was not economic, nor class related, as everyone in the service was adequately remunerated.  The only factor that could be identified was the greater levels of stress experienced by those who were paid to obey the orders of others above them.  Something about being under the control of others creates a stress response that is observed to take a toll on people.  This particular type of stress is not faced by those who have control over their working lives.

Marmot was not looking for examples of bullying and I have no reason to suggest that UK civil service is a hotbed of such behaviour.   Clearly it will exist there, as everywhere else, but we would hope it would be mitigated by effective complaints processes.  But whenever it does exist, we may see it as adding to the levels of stress experienced in the workplace.  The ‘normal’ type of stress is simply being in a place where everyday control and supervision of workers is in operation.  This is part of the culture of most workplaces.  There is then, sometimes, a second level, the intensification of stress which comes as the result of experiencing bullying at the place of work.   If, as Marmot would claim, the first ‘ordinary’ work experience is stressful with life-changing physical consequences, then we can postulate that a bullying culture may well tip many people into experiencing acute distress, sometimes manifesting itself as physical or mental illness.  Bullying in the workplace is thus a serious threat to the health and well-being of many working people. 

 Last week I described my own experiences of dealing with the stress of being a curate.  Others in the comment section have added their own stories. Fortunately, the behaviour I experienced as bullying was time limited. I did have the option to escape from the arbitrary whims of a very volatile boss.   I was then able to recover my psychological stamina so as to be able to continue as a member of the clergy. Not all achieve this, and, anecdotally, many clergy leave ministry altogether after a number of years.  Negative experiences of bullying from their fellow clergy (and sometimes parishioners) may be among the causes.  By always keeping a low profile in my parish, I never had to endure stressful encounters with bishops and archdeacons. There were also some good experiences of teamwork.  My ministry required me at various times to work in a part time team context. These particular teams were the support groups I gathered to assist me in the various diocesan roles I have, at different times, undertaken.  As far as the main parish role was concerned, I have only worked as a sole incumbent, though normally supported by retired colleagues and supportive church councils.

Returning to the theme of workplace bullying which we suspect is extremely common in UK society, we find that the textbooks are reluctant to offer a definition to cover every case of its incidence.  As a suggested starter I would see bullying at work to be taking place when the power that one individual has over another is deliberately weaponised to cause distress.  In the absence of widely agreed definitions, most discussions bring up the word aggression to cover what they mean when talking about bullying.  The discussions also indicate that bullying behaviour is often linked back to poor nurturing as a child.  That discussion has to be left to one side.  One distinction I discovered early on in the literature about bullying is that there is a distinction to be made between affective aggression and instrumental aggression.  The first is bullying behaviour which involves emotion arousing or some kind of gratification for the bully.  These emotions might also involve anger, jealousy or revenge.  Instrumental bullying is when power is exerted over another to extract some desired end from the victim.  Bullying of this kind might have as its end sexual favours being demanded, or possibly the handing over of money.

In the last blog post I mentioned that the presence of an individual with narcissistic tendencies would likely cause havoc to the smooth functioning of a clergy team.  Something similar would happen if a priest with bullying tendencies was either a member of or, worse still, put in charge of a parish, a cathedral or even a diocese.  One of the problems of raising this topic of bullying in the church is that all we have to guide us as to its frequency is anecdotal evidence.  It is likely that bishops know about many cases of bullying which come to their attention, just as they hear about abuse cases.  For obvious reasons this information is sensitive and unlikely to be shared beyond a diocesan boundary or even within bishops’ staff meetings.  We simply do not have this kind of statistical information.  The absence of reliable data should not mean that we should not bring up the topic.  The Church at large is still catching up, after it claimed in 2009 only to know about 13 cases of sexual abuse in its records.  This was a massive case of institutional blindness. The fallout from that self-deluding nonsense is still being worked through.  At the time it became the received narrative and no one was able to challenge these absurd figures for at least another six years.  The incidence of bullying at every level of the Church may be its next hidden shame.  Should we not start talking about it rather pretending it does not happen?  Do we wish to suffer from chronic institutional blindness a second time?

The problem of clergy (and sometimes lay people) who bully other clergy and parishioners is an issue which has never been far away. Speaking from the evidence of my own observations, I can say that I have watched while clergy I know, forced to work with bullies, have had breakdowns.  Some of these, like abuse survivors, have gone on to experience serious illnesses and even suffered premature death through being exposed to a highly bullying culture.  The link between high stress and illness can never be proven and thus it is impossible to produce statistics of this problem.  I do not need to dwell further on my own early experiences as a priest, but I noted that nearly half those who were ordained deacon with me had disappeared from Crockford twenty years later.  Those who speak of teams and consistent good working relationships between the clergy as being the norm, are not describing the Church as I have found it in some places. Of course excellence in this area exists, but so do tragic examples of bullying and power abuse.  

Looking back, particularly over the past thirty years, we have been regaled by a variety of accounts in the Church involving bullying and power abuse.  The stories in the public domain include the dysfunctions involving Lincoln Cathedral in the 90s.  Even the mediation skills of Desmond Tutu could not sort out that particular problem.  Some other cathedrals have been described to me in the past as hotbeds of tensions and stress because of poor relationships. The current tensions in Winchester and among Scottish Episcopalians in Aberdeen can only be imagined, since much of the the detail is only hinted at in the public domain material.   Both bishops have, no doubt, been able to justify their behaviour as a valid exercise of episcopal authority.  In each case, it would seem that problems have been known about for some time.  Nevertheless, the people in a position to do something were unable or unwilling to step in to stop the situation getting out of hand.  We see a Church that is unwilling to grasp nettles in time to stop problems causing lasting damage

Every time I hear of a case of bullying, I think of the victims.  Actual bullying in the workplace is far more serious than the stress of not having control over your working life. The latter was the major factor leading to stress identified by Marmot in his study.  When we add bullying into the mix, we are talking about a major contributor to poor physical health and shortened lives.  In other words what has been going on in churches and cathedrals, as in Oxford, Winchester and Aberdeen, has the potential to damage lives in a real physical sense.  Incidents and allegations of bullying need always to be taken extremely seriously.  The environment that is created is so foul that it brings shame on the church for the damage it is known to be doing.  Many of us are part of that church.  We each share some responsibility for that shame.  The way forward for us as individuals is to dedicate ourselves to working hard, in whatever way is open to us, to fight to remove this scourge of bullying from our churches.

From early childhood I have always had a strong emotional reaction to beautiful things.  Some of these are natural and some man-made.  Beauty is revealed in many places, from the cry of a newborn child and the glories of a sunset to the intricacies of a mediaeval illustrated manuscript.  This existence of beauty in the world has imprinted in me, from early years, two important theological ideas. One is that beauty is a manifestation of truth every bit as precious and lasting as the truth contained in a list of propositions or statements.   If something were to say that God is beauty and that beauty, in whatever form it manifests itself, partakes of God, I would have no problem with such an insight.  A second way that the identification of God with beauty is helpful, is that, just as God exists beyond time and outside space, so the same thing can be said of beauty.  Beauty, in the way I understand it, will always be something transcendent, outside time and space.

At school, the study of classics brought me into me touch with Plato’s notion of ideas. This is the theory that everything in the world was related to an ‘idea’ or ‘form’ of itself in another dimension. The extent to which anything  approached its ideal, was the extent to which it was most truly real. A horse approaches the ideal of horsiness as it resembles this ‘form’ of a perfect transcendent horse. Plato’s abstract ideas may make no sense from a western trained thinker’s point of view but they form an important background for the understanding of parts of the New Testament and the theology of the early Church.  Whether you find Plato’s thinking and speculations helpful or not, this idea of a real world transcending and giving reality to our present one, has been a powerful, even captivating idea over the centuries of western thought. 

Platonic ideas, particularly as they were absorbed and reconstructed by the Greek fathers, formed part of my theological formation.  Culturally they are at odds with the precise world of the 18^th century enlightenment model as understood by the Western traditions. This personal appropriation of Platonism saved me from two theological perspectives which are, I believe, unhelpful to many people.  The first is the idea that only words can contain and define the divine reality in what is known as propositional thinking.  Such thinking is found among the Reformers and their successors.  It is also believed that nothing can be said about God unless it is rooted in the words of Scripture. Patristic insights that God is unknowable or beyond the capacity of human thought find little place in reformed theology.  A second application of enlightenment thinking is associated with liberal Protestantism.  This also, in a different way, tries to present Christianity as far as possible within the framework of modern scientific and philosophical thought.  Stories of miracles have a habit of being explained away rather than pointing to the limitations of human language and experience.  This appeal to rationality as defined by 18^th century philosophers like Locke and Hume is a strong influence in much of modern liberal theological discourse.

When I say I prefer Plato to the Enlightenment, I am not suggesting that one is right and the other wrong.  I see no binary tension here. I want to affirm Plato and his followers alongside enlightenment rationality. Both have their place. Plato provides us with a way of approaching the mystery of God which has proved very popular over the centuries.  From his speculations we acquire a language with which to speak about what is perhaps unspeakable and beyond reason.  Western logic finds this hard to do.  The word ‘mystery’ itself introduces us to this distinct way of reasoning.  The word is formed from a Greek word muo which means to be silent. Mystery is thus a reality which drives one to a place which has no words.  The ancient world was familiar with mystery religions of all kinds.  I doubt that our modern culture would find them easy to understand or reinterpret, however hard we try to be ‘ecumenical’. Various salvific myths were staged for the initiates in the mysteries. making effective use of light and darkness.  These dramas were designed to create a sense of religious crisis in the postulant.  The dramatic light shows put on by NOS in Sheffield, Hillsong and similar megachurches are, paradoxically, the closest that our culture goes in reproducing something of the religious impact of the ancient mystery religions.  As the Old Testament reading from Isaiah this morning (Sunday) puts it: ‘For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.’  This is the God beyond words, beyond concepts.  To speak at all about him we need the metaphors and images of the mystics and spiritual explorers from ancient times till today.

Returning to our title, the Greek thinkers, both pagan and Christian, had a strong attachment to beauty.   The idea or ‘form’ of beauty was something very close to their idea of God.  It was a young Greek theologian, Christos Jannaras, who, in the 60s, wrote a book in which he expressed the idea that the understanding of beauty was something that Orthodox theological tradition did well and that it was something they had to offer to the worldwide church.   This notion has followed me through the fifty+ years since I first heard it. I have, as a consequence, been keen to explore the links that seem to exist between the notion of God and beauty in whatever manifestation it appears.  There are still places in the Christian west where beauty remains a key component of worship and is understood to help bring people to God.  There are artists, poets and musicians in our culture who still help to make this vital connection between the human spirit and the God who reveals himself as beauty to so many. Of course, only a very few artists and merchants of beauty confess a Christian faith, but each of them, in different ways, are teaching us to use our God given sensitivity and awareness of beauty.  This frequently points us to God. I am grateful to all of them.

The association between God and beauty has had some practical consequences for the way I practise the Christian faith.  There will some who will not approve when I say that I have been protected from versions of Christianity that put a great deal of emphasis on the notion that to utter the correct formula of belief is somehow to ensure salvation. I feel also that I have been preserved from another exclusivist notion that there is but a single version of truth.  To belong to the spiritual world known to the mystics and represented by the word mystery, is to realise that every version of truth is one that tries to approach or come close to truth rather than to own it. To say that to know Christ is to know God does not give us the right to exclude others who use language and ideas in completely different ways. The language of mystery is above all a language that insists on humility in the face of ultimately unknowable truth. From my perspective, any exclusivism in theology is divisive and the cause of endless pain and distracting struggles for the Church.  Anglicanism in its classical form has always insisted on one special claim of inclusivism which allows me to feel at home.  It declares itself, not to be the Church but to be part of something bigger and wider – the Catholic church.  In other words, it looks beyond itself, to the Orthodox and the Catholics for its self-definition.  It enjoys, even celebrates, this self-understanding of fuzzy boundaries. There are, of course, boundaries of what is or is not acceptable in Christian teaching but probably not in the places that many people want to put them. Many older Anglicans regret an apparent shift in direction, away from this inclusive feel over its boundaries to a position of strict doctrinal correctness.  The more the Church tries to tighten the edges of its structure against others, the more it ceases to be a place of welcome.

The examples of beauty in our world are endless. Not everyone will be sensitised to more than a few of these manifestations but everyone can be taught the way that the language of beauty is a path to spiritual awareness.  Clearly in our utilitarian world, few people speak the language of beauty well.  Those who speak it at all, are, I believe, not far from God.  They may not yet speak the conventional language of Christianity but, with help from people who already have made that connection, they may be able themselves to cross over to a position of faith.  The words of the hymn will come alive for them: O worship the Lord in the Beauty of Holiness.

The ability to reflect on and examine relationships in my life as a priest has, I trust, improved with age.  Understanding difficult relationships with former colleagues has become much easier with the passing of time and the access to new insights.  No one thought to teach us at college anything about the hazards of working with a training incumbent (TI) – the difficulties of maintaining a smooth relationship with the individual who has an entire career in their hands. I had two difficult relationships with TIs.  The first was a work-weary priest of 71 who was desperately in need of a senior curate who would lift some of the burden of parish routine from his shoulders.  He was not impressed when all that was on offer was me, a newly ordained deacon.   At that point I could do none of the routine parish duties like baptisms, confirmation and marriage preparation.  I lasted seven months before my misery reached the ears of the diocesan authorities and I was allowed to move to another parish in the diocese.  In the time I served in this first parish, I had only seen the TI three times to talk about my training in the parish.  When I mention that he used to make appointments for wedding couples for 10 pm in the evening, it might convey how utterly unprepared he was to make time for the important role of nurturing and encouraging a new deacon.

My second TI was an improvement in many respects since he found time for me.  He also entrusted me with the range of parish responsibilities so that, at the end of three years, I could be said to be ready for independent responsibility.  But there were problems designed to make sure that I was not allowed to escape the stress of being a curate, under someone else’s control.  Looking back over fifty years I can see that a main stumbling block that existed was the TI’s jealousy of me.  He was unhappily married, and the effect of this spilled over into all his relationships.  I was then single and somehow he resented that I was not also caught up in an unhappy relationship.  The accommodation provided were two rooms in the Vicarage and I shared a meal with the Vicar and his wife every day.   His overall unhappiness caused him also to have a volatile temper with occasional outbursts of volcanic anger.  To add to my sense of claustrophobia and overexposure to this priest, I had no access to an independent telephone. Few parishioners were able to contact me this way.  Those who attempted it had to pass though the TI.  I had to tell people not to ring me since it was so complicated and stressful receiving phone calls.

At the end of my time in what was effectively my first curacy, I knew I needed time out from parish stress.  With the help of savings and grants, I went back to university to do two years full time research on a theme related to Eastern Orthodox studies.  Eventually, after a second curacy, I found myself as an independent incumbent in a parish in Herefordshire with three churches.  After my highly stressful period as a curate, I revelled in the independence that I now had.  Working closely with other clergy had been fraught at best and totally destructive at worst.  But there was a new aspect to my work and relationships with fellow clergy.  The Deanery chapter actually functioned fairly well.  Having our own areas of responsibility meant that we were never a threat to one another.  When we worked together, we knew that, if things got tense, we could retreat back to our patch and remain unscarred by whatever tension had flared up.

Since ‘escaping’ from the volatile atmosphere of being a curate all those years ago, I have often reflected on the topic of how clergy can work together successfully.  Although my own curate experiences were difficult, I can see that there is no reason why the TI/curate relationship should not work well.  As long as the TI has a level of self-insight and is prepared to enter imaginatively into the curate’s role, the experience should be a rewarding one for both sides.  The interaction must, however, never be assumed to be straightforward.  Both sides need to submit to external supervision to avoid the stresses that I and many (most?) other curates in the past have had to endure.    For those who work in team ministries or the newly invented mission teams, a different set of skills is required.  Here clergy are almost randomly thrust together in a theoretical position of equality. They bring their churchmanship preferences, their personal traits and their possibly unresolved psychological wounds from the past into the mix. Do we really expect them to find mutual support and peaceful cooperation in such groupings?

The role of the Anglican priest is one that attracts individuals to its ranks with a variety of personal profiles.   Although all potential candidates are now screened psychologically, that has not stopped some slipping through the system with less than honourable reasons for seeking ordination.  Some of these will involve a desire for social status with a perception that to be a clergyperson will boost a flagging self-esteem.  To put it bluntly, the clerical profession is attractive to someone high on the narcissism spectrum. Such a person will be using every opportunity to self-promote and enjoy the trappings of privilege and power without caring for the rights and sensitivities of others.   If a clergy group has to work with someone fitting this profile, it is hard to see how this group will be able ever to function successfully as a team.  There will be a great deal of stress for everyone.  The profile of narcissism among church leaders is one that I have often mentioned on this blog.  Narcissism typically combines a fragile core personality with a striving for power and status.  The narcissist will be skilled at manipulating others and do everything required to fulfil a desire to be always at the centre of attention.  If a narcissist with this profile takes control in a team or group situation, that will make the situation virtually impossible. 

A useful online discussion on narcissism that I came across yesterday, mentioned five factors about narcissism that fatally undermine relationships.  I have reworded these points to allow them to apply to failures in team working where narcissism is present in a leader. Narcissism in any relationship will destroy it very quickly.  Teams which have the misfortune of coming under narcissistic leadership also have little chance of successful working.

1. The heightened core vulnerability of the leader with narcissism would induce a sense in the team of permanently walking on eggshells.
2. The team members would be terrified of disagreeing with the leader.
3. The miasma of fear in the group would repress spontaneity (and humour!).
4. The forceful imposing of the of the will of the narcissistic leader would be corrosive on the sense of individual boundaries. Individual identities are supressed by the forcefulness of the narcissist.
5. The narcissism of the leader creates permanent tension lest the team members have to witness periodic outbursts of narcissistic rage. 

Team working in the Church of England has had a chequered history.  I have attempted to locate a good example of successful team working but have so far failed.  Team ministries that were so ubiquitous twenty years ago seem to have quietly gone out of fashion.  Perhaps someone reading this will loudly tells us that the Team Ministry concept was a brilliant idea, and that clergy were and are extremely happy to work in one. Apparent teams seem to exist in many large conservative churches in our cities. Here the church can afford to pay for large numbers of assistant clergy. Young evangelical clergy appear desperate to be appointed to one of these flagship churches. Sometimes they can remain there as curates for up to fifteen years. They are unwilling to serve in any church outside this culture, so they quietly wait their turn to take over the running one of these important churches when a vacancy comes round. Some will compromise and accept appointment to another less prestigious church within the conservative network. The flagship churches with this profile, employing large numbers of clerical staff, are not strictly teams in a practical or legal sense. The assistant clergy remain technically and functionally assistant curates. The pattern for teams in the wider C of E work with team rectors and team vicars. This scheme first appeared in the 60s. The aim was to create a team parish incorporating several churches and parishes. These parishes might have a variety of traditions, but team staff would be expected to work right across the whole area. There was the expectation that this way of working would be preferred by those who had traditionally operated alone. It was thought that clergy needed the support of their peers to operate happily in the parochial setting.

Today we still have clusters of churches which call themselves teams, but they seem still to retain much of the old territorialism of the past. In other words, there may have been a change of name but the fundamental preference for neighbourhood-based churches remains alive and well in people’s expectations. Also, the bulk of clergy would appear to prefer to work a defined ‘patch’ which is in some sense theirs.  Such territorialism is extremely tenaciously held by most clergy, and they are loath to surrender it to any new pattern.  A sense of belonging to a place is also strong among the laity.  They want, even need, to identify with a particular clergy person who acts as their vicar.  They will simply give up if the areas of clerical responsibility become so large and diffuse that clergy and laypeople can no longer regard it in any sense as theirs.

Clergy have hitherto not been known for their skill at being part of genuine teams.  There are many things that get in the way of easy working relationships – theological outlook, temperament, personal insecurities and ambition.  For the Church of England to be requiring so many clergy to work in structures that defy tradition and clerical temperament, is risky in the extreme.  Over the course of my ministry, I have watched clergy facing appalling stressful situations, caused by often having to work in toxic proximity to other clergy with problematic profiles. For a team to have a sporting chance of working, you need every member of the team to have a extremely healthy psychological make-up where narcissism is completely absent.  That would appear to be a tall order. As far as I know, no one has studied the way that clergy seem to have long ministries when they are given independent responsibility.  Conversely, they appear far less happy when they are forced to operate in structures that deny them any ownership of their working environment.   Mission teams may look fine on paper, but, when they are strictly implemented, they will likely cause high stress and unhappiness within the Church as a whole. That cost will be hard to bear.        

One of the things we demand, when reading fiction or watching dramas on television, is that these fictional pieces have satisfying conclusions. The conclusion may not always count as a happy ending, but we do have a need to see loose threads tied up.  The reader or watcher wants to believe that the world is basically an ordered and moral place, even if they know that this is not always true in reality. James Bond films illustrate well the victory of good in a fictional setting.  However much the arch-villain may seem to have Bond in his control at some point in the plot, we know that something will come along to save our hero and reverse the situation of despotic power and the attempts at world domination.

Conclusions or happy endings are expected in the world of fictional drama.  In real life they happen far less often, even though we may crave them.   In the real world we frequently encounter situations that are left unresolved, where the forces of goodness do not seem to prevail, and individuals put up with unhappiness and pain. When there is an event involving abuse against a vulnerable person, there can never be a truly happy ending. The most one can look for is for justice to be obtained and that skilful support for those wounded will be found.  Even this outcome is not always achieved. The trauma of abuse is likely to leave its mark for the whole of a victim’s life and have unforeseeable consequences.  Money and therapy can contribute towards the needed healing, but what they can achieve is never close to a completed task.

 One of the things that happens for me as the editor of this blog, is to receive a number of stories which seem to have no possibility of a tidy outcome. Two words, already mentioned, sum up the minimum that might be required for abuse victims to have a chance to begin to rebuild their lives.  These words are justice and care.  I hear about incidents of abuse of all kinds, some from long ago.  More often, what these survivors want to share with me is not the event of abuse itself, but the later processes and institutional obstacles that have been placed in their way as they seek justice and support.  We could claim to see these obstacles as a further experience of abuse.  What has had to be endured by a survivor seeking justice and care is nearly always a two-stage process.  First there is the original abuse with all its accompanying psychological and physical trauma.   Then there is the battle to have that pain acknowledged by the institutions which had incubated the abuser in some way.  Further, these organisations are neglecting to respond in anything like an adequate way when the evil is finally exposed. 

Today (Sunday) there is an important story in the Sunday Times which seems, for the first time, to give a legal acceptance of the fact that sexual abuse can be perpetrated against an individual in two stages.  The story in Sunday’s paper is a Catholic one, but the implication of the story is of importance to all churches.  The story indicates that any deliberate ‘othering’ of survivors by a church body is of interest and concern to the courts.  In the ST story, a female survivor had been abused by an RC priest at the age of 15.  Legal compensation was eventually awarded to this victim by the Catholic authorities.  Of much greater interest to all those who have witnessed the way that survivors are often mistreated by church institutions, is the second case taken out against the Catholic Church.  This second case that was heard, quite separate from the first, related to attempts by the Church to intimidate and belittle the victim as she fought for justice and the recognition of her abuse.  In short, the Catholic Church has been called to account and penalised for the institutional bullying of a victim seeking justice.  The case against the Church will be a shot across the bows for all those in the churches who instruct their legal teams to undermine and discredit victims/survivors in sexual abuse cases.  The case of Julie McFarlane contained a harrowing account of how she had to stand up to aggressive questioning from lawyers employed by the Church in their attempts to undermine her testimony.  Hopefully such bullying behaviour in legal cases against survivors will be less tolerated in the future.

The emails I receive from individuals around the country describe some immensely complicated snarl-ups in the system of safeguarding around the country.  Officially we have full-time diocesan safeguarding officers (DSOs) all over the country, but still, we do not find consistency in their professional training or abilities.  Two problems quickly arise for these officers. One is the fact that no one has really defined the professional skills required for a DSO.  I have before outlined the managerial and the pastoral skills that would seem to be basic.  Then there is needed an understanding of law and the cluster of skills associated with social work.  Last, but not least, the DSO needs to have some grasp of theological language which may be used by survivors and church officials.  When the role of DSO finally acquires its own professional training scheme at a post-graduate level, then perhaps this range of skills will be defined in a way that helps to end this pot-luck approach to the appointment and deployment of DSOs around the country.

The second range of skills needed by our DSOs is far tougher. It is the ability to survive in structures which are sometimes dysfunctional to the point of creating unbearable levels of stress. Much of what is confidentially described to me of the inner workings of safeguarding within dioceses, suggests sometimes almost impossible working conditions for everyone involved.  Officially, DSOs act independently and outside the official diocesan structures.  In practice, they have to battle to preserve this independence.  To describe this as difficult to achieve, is an understatement.  It is hard to see how a DSO is supposed to behave in a highly politicised arena such as the Southwark diocese. Someone senior in the diocese, probably not the DSO, made the well-publicised decision to suspend and subsequently reinstate Stephen Kuhrt. Previously a senior diocesan figure kept Jonathan Fletcher’s loss of his PTO in 2017 firmly under wraps.  This latter decision was kept so confidential that not even his constituency bishop, Rod Thomas, was told. A section of this blog has been removed following a legal request.

The sheer variety of standards and modes of practice among the safeguarding officers currently employed by the Church around the country provides an unpredictable environment for abuse cases to be dealt with well. What do people in the pew or among the clergy demand from a competent safeguarding officer? The thing they want to see above all is a person who is compassionate and listening, preserving a professional independence.  No one wishes to have their negative experience of abuse compounded by an unfeeling toxic institutional response, one which is denying, defensive and totally lacking in compassion.    It must be possible for a system of reporting abuse to be fair, just and preserving confidentiality.  The people who write to me are often not being heard because the system of safeguarding is often politicised in a way to prevent it having integrity.  Whenever church lawyers, archdeacons, DSOs and even bishops are thought to be manipulating the system in any way to suit their partisan purposes, the structures cannot function as they should.  People of goodwill are squeezed out from the structures by these failures.  We need to be able to insert that integrity back into the institutional structures before it is lost for ever.

It is some months since I mentioned the organisation called Hillsong, a network of churches which began life in Sydney, Australia.  The Hillsong group is notable for its huge wealth and apparent success in promoting a brand of charismatic Christianity across the world. It is now found in 30 countries and in 131 congregations.  One key to its distinctiveness, wealth and appeal is the range of Hillsong worship songs composed within the organisation.  These generate enormous sums of money in royalty payments.  Their popularity fills venues wherever they are played. If we were looking for an example of a church which is successful in terms of gaining new adherents, appealing to the young and achieving financial affluence, we need look no further than Hillsong.

More recently, some of the shine has gone off the Hillsong brand and it has been in the news for the wrong reasons.  Some of its youthful leaders have been removed after being accused of inappropriate relationships with young women in the congregation.  There have also been allegations of money being used for illicit purposes.  I do not intend to rehearse the details of these cases, as anyone interested can easily do a Google search for themselves.  Neither do I wish to pontificate here on the age-old question on whether it is ever right to describe inappropriate relationships as ‘affairs’.  Regardless of whether or not the erring leaders are married, relationships with members of a congregation inevitably involve a power differential that raises a variety of problematic issues. 

We need to return to the question of what has made Hillsong so successful up till now?  Is it that the group has found leaders with charismatic personalities who know how to create an experience of the numinous in a large crowd ?    Is it just the quality and appeal of the music?  Have they found a style of preaching that reaches the unspoken longings of their young congregations?  It is likely a combination of all these things that successfully fill Hillsong venues around the world.  Celebrity preachers, catchy music and large crowd experience will always appeal to a considerable section of the population.  And yet there are problems.   These problems are likely to be similar to those you can expect to find in any large organisation.  The reports of bullying and sexual and financial misconduct that have started to swirl around Hillsong are completely unsurprising when you consider that many of the leaders are young and inexperienced in handling considerable power and responsibility.  Behind the misuse and abuse of sex and money, I detect a failure of effective oversight by those at the top of this substantial organisation.  Power, charisma and authoritative teaching are intoxicating but dangerous tools to put in the hands of these very young congregational leaders.  Are we really surprised when such power is abused?  The whole environment is a volatile mix, able to go wrong at any moment.  These young male leaders (women do not have leadership roles in Hillsong) will frequently have their heads turned by this combination of wealth, the adoring presence of numerous young people, together with the ability to exercise real power over the body and souls of so many.  Adoring acolytes may well be grateful for the scraps of attention coming from these leaders on stage.  As far as the leaders are concerned, some may have been attracted to the role because it is a way of satisfying a narcissistic need to have their egos boosted and inflated.   The opportunity to be at the centre and exercise this glamorous charismatic/celebrity role will certainly accomplish this. While we would not claim that every Hillsong leader has a narcissistic personality, we would suggest that the atmosphere in which they work is not psychologically a healthy one, particularly over a period of time.  There are, in any Hillsong event, powerful currents of energy that operate in ways that are quite likely to become addictive and unhealthily gratifying to the leaders and the led.  When the literature on narcissism speaks about narcissistic feeding, it is normally describing what is going on in a one-to-one relationship.   One side is boosting the sense of importance of the narcissist through constant flattery and attention.  The narcissistic feeding that takes place in a crowd setting is of a different order.  Standing on a stage as the visible focus of a crowd’s search for God, the worship leader may have an intoxicating experience of being fed narcissistically and in the process enjoying a sensation of raw power.  In a previous post I have described what I call situational narcissism.  This is when an event or a situation satisfies the need and longing in an individual for grandiosity, self-inflation and messianism.  All these are typical objects of longing and hunger which are felt by the narcissist and which he is constantly seeking to assuage.  What may begin as a pleasurable experience of high self-esteem, may eventually become an addictive need.  This is so damaging to those who are drawn in to become in various victims of the one with an insatiable narcissistic appetite.    

An interesting article, written by Elle Hardy, appeared a week or so ago in the Guardian newspaper . She has been studying Hillsong and its franchised congregations for some years. She makes a number of very interesting observations. Like me she finds the advent of scandal in these circles unsurprising in view of the age and immaturity of many of the leaders. She goes on to make a further observation which is interesting.   If churches like Hillsong were to adopt stricter forms of safeguarding practice, this would have the effect of dampening the spontaneity on which the church depends for much of its character and success.  In other words, it is these personal displays of spontaneous charisma displayed by the leaders that creates the buzz and the fireworks.  These are all part of the Hillsong experience.  The Hillsong authorities have a difficult decision to make.  Do you let charisma with the attendant anarchy built into it have free reign, or do you impose regulations that ensure the churches are less spontaneous in order to provide a greater sense of order and safety?

Hillsong in 2021 feels a little bit like a domestic animal which has become difficult to control. The culture, charisma, power and wealth of the organisation have been welded together to create a chaotic mix.  In that scenario, there is always the potential for things to go seriously wrong  Are we, in other words, really surprised at what is going on?

The current misfortunes of the Hillsong franchise are issues being experienced by similar groups across the world.  More and more people are becoming aware that youth, charisma, sexuality and narcissism are combining together in a way that makes some kinds of church experience unsafe.  As a Church, we still lack that ability to discern what may be really going on in some ‘successful’ churches.  Because we do not really understand the power dynamics of charismatic congregations when things are outwardly going well, do we have any chance of analysing what is going on when things suddenly turn sour, and people are hurt?  Some of us are still processing the events at Emmanuel Wimbledon where a ministry of 30 years is now seen to have allowed a variety of manipulative/abusive practices to take hold.  We also had a dress-rehearsal for Jonathan Fletcher in the Nine O’Clock Service in Sheffield 25 years ago.  As I have often said in this blog, we need to have a far better understanding of the dynamics of large groups and the way that people with abusive personalities can hide unchallenged in plain sight.  The Smyth drama uncovered by Andrew Graystone in his book revealed, among many other things, an obscene and blind loyalty to institutions and the church leaders. This further harmed the abused and the weak.

The title of a book by David Shepherd in the 80s and used by many others since as a slogan, is Bias to the Poor.  That is a phrase that could well be recommended to be followed by the entire Church in its need to re-examine its attitude to the meaning of success within the institution. Hitherto we have got used to praising and lionising big, wealthy and successful churches.  These are the ones that appear to be delivering what is required in terms of success and increased membership.  To misquote another book title, large does not mean beautiful.  Far too often, the large church, in terms of numbers, is a place where leadership is corrupted, the weak are bullied and abused and evil is allowed to find a home.  Hillsong is a warning for our times.  The big flashy congregations, with celebrity leaders who are larger than life, are places of danger.  Far too many, both leaders and led, become addicted to forms of worship and church life which pander more to narcissistic need rather than to an opening up the glory and truth of God.  When there is any kind of addiction in church life, critical thinking goes out of the window.  What is left is the roar of the crowd baying to be gratified by instant stimulation, alongside the complete absence of silence and reflection. 

I do not remember at what age I was introduced to two important principles traditionally embodied in the legal system of England. It may have been in a lesson about Magna Carta. Somewhere along the line in my education, I imbibed two key ideas about the administration of justice in this country.  The first principle states that everyone is deemed to be innocent unless proved guilty. The second principle is that if a person receives a verdict of not guilty in a court setting, then this decision, whether made by jury or judge, is taken to be the final word on the matter.  Because of the double jeopardy idea, it is not possible to keep trying again and again, using the same evidence but with different juries, to find someone guilty of a crime.  I am sure that there might have been some push-back in my class, putting forward the notion that guilty people might get away with crimes through having a good lawyer.  Whatever our feelings about the justice system in particular cases, most people accept that it generally works well.  One special feature of the justice practised in the UK is that we are entirely free of political interference.  The moment judges anywhere in the world become pawns to a political system, left or right, that is a moment when these societies begin to deteriorate, to become a cesspit of instability caused by an arbitrary use of power.  We can be grateful for our British system of justice. This has been honed over many centuries to provide us with access to a fair and reliable system of interpreting and operating the law.

The political manipulation of justice is something that I met in Greece during the 60s. Individuals were thrown into jail for having incorrect opinions or being seen as some kind of threat to the right-wing junta. This political oppression affected me directly, but not in the sense that I feared for my own personal safety.  My problem was that although my studies took me into making contact with all social groups, there were some well-connected individuals who feared any contact with someone from abroad.  Even carrying a letter of introduction signed by the then archbishop, Michael Ramsey, could not penetrate these barriers of fear and self-protection that some had built around themselves.  Opinions were things that you kept very private in case the wrong person was listening to your conversation. Then your job and even your freedom could be under threat.

The memory of living in a country where the legal system was exercised in an arbitrary way is something that I have retained over the years. In this country my dealings with the police and the justice system have been, thankfully, infrequent.  The few encounters with the justice system have never caused me any sense of anxiety about the fundamental soundness of the institution, even though I realise that is not the experience of all. Justice in Britain seems to work most of the time.  It came as something of a shock to me to realise that one place where arbitrary justice is sometimes found today is in the Church of England.  In Friday’s Church Times there was an important article written by Peter Selby, a former Bishop of Worcester and Bishop to HM prisons. He has noticed that recent cases in the Church have indicated a less than robust concern for the basic principles of justice that every child in school used to be taught. His main concern is the case of Fr Griffin but the Christ Church saga is also noted.  The principle of innocent until proved guilty was evidently ignored in the careless collecting of a ‘brain-dump’ of unsubstantiated gossip by an official in the Diocese of London.  The way this information had been collected gave those targeted by this rumour and gossip no opportunity to challenge the information gathered about them.  There was, in short, no way to establish their innocence.  A fundamental principle for the maintenance of justice was thus being denied. 

Peter Selby also reminds us about the case of Martyn Percy, where there also seems to be a complete breakdown of some of the principles of normal legal protocol as enshrined in English law. The Dean has been faced with accusations which total over 40 in number. Up till now every one of these has been examined and rejected in turn by individuals of high legal standing from within the State or Church’s legal system. We do not need to remind the reader that nowhere in the Christ Church process have we witnessed the normal assumptions of innocence.  Indeed, we see the opposite.  Neither the College nor the Diocese of Oxford have shown any respect for this or, indeed, the other principle that a declaration by a judge of effective innocence of a crime marks the end of a legal process.  I confess myself baffled by the fact that the ruling of the top judge, Dame Sarah Asplin, should seem to be ignored and the same viciously restrictive protocols are still applied to Percy as though he is an acute safeguarding risk.  These are reinforced by both Church and College. The most painful part of the whole process is the chronic lack of any sense of urgency.  Surely as far as church processes are concerned, the ruling by Dame Sarah should have resulted in some immediate response by either the NST, the Oxford Safeguarding Team or even the Bishop of Oxford himself?  Instead of decisions and action, we have witnessed agonising silence and paralysis within the system. This suggests that safeguarding protocols are simply not functioning properly in the diocese.  A more accurate description might be to say that there is at present a situation of complete shambles.  If the church authorities do know something about Percy’s behaviour that they have not yet revealed, then that might justify a delay. In the absence of anything new, the effect of delay is deeply corrosive to any building up of trust between bishop and the people of the diocese.  Might one suggest that part of the problem is that both persecutory entities, the Church and the College, have been employing the same legal firm, Winckworth Sherwood to pursue their agendas?  This firm, at least, has a financial stake in creating delay and prolonging the processes for as long as possible.  Let us hope that the Charity Commission will soon step in to end the charade of legal process that passes for justice in the topsy turvy world of Christ Church and the diocese of Oxford.    

In viewing the two chronic legal situations unfolding in London and Oxford, we are left with many questions.  Why should senior church people in London and Oxford act with so little regard for the legal rights of individuals, let alone follow the dictates of Christian charity?   Surely there must be some around the respective bishops who realise that what has been going on in each place contravenes the principles of natural justice?  As things stand at present, the dioceses of Oxford and London seem to be firmly on the wrong side of justice and, indeed, of history. How could anyone disagree with the President of the Tribunals in her remarks about the Percy case or the coroner in the Griffin case? The issues in each case are, of course, different.  In one case sloppy bureaucracy seems to be to blame.  In the other there seems to be a visible working out of personal animosities.  In this latter case we find a deliberate unhelpful failure by the Bishop to support his Dean.  He now seems to be ignoring the finding of the Church’s President of Tribunals that whatever one believes happened in that brief meeting between the Dean and his accuser, it was neither sexual in character ( as some – though not the accuser – implied ) neither did it constitute “ serious misconduct”. Might the Bishop tell us why he thinks this does not make a difference to the restrictions which were imposed before such expert analysis was brought into play. It is one thing for a college to complain about their Head of House; it is quite another for a diocesan bishop to collude with these charges and allow the imposition of an absurd and disproportionate list of prohibitions. Does Bishop Croft wish to go down in history as the bishop who used his power to attempt to enforce a legal process so demonstratively cruel and unjust?   One is reminded, at this point, of the story in the gospels where Beelzebub was invoked as being behind Jesus’ power.  Jesus makes the comment about a kingdom which cannot stand when it is divided. The Bishop’s failure to offer any support for the Dean has dealt a divisive and traumatising blow against his whole diocese.  Will this act of apparent malevolence be the event for which Bishop Steven will be most remembered in future decades?  

Bishop Selby gives us two examples of senior church leaders ignoring natural justice and, in the process, doing much damage to the wider Church. I am still looking for someone outside the immediate circle of these two bishops who is prepared to interpret their actions in a more generous way than has been done so far. In the Percy case,  I am aware of the cluster of College clergy and dons prepared to make outrageous assertions in their position of opposing the Dean.  Does anybody really believe that Percy is another Peter Ball, a comment ascribed to one Christ Church canon?  So far I have read nothing to indicate that anybody in the Church is actively supporting these two bishops and the way they have been behaving. Two clergymen have been denied access to the normal protocols of justice. One has taken his own life in a tragic suicide. In the Oxford case, Dean Percy still hangs on after three years of almost constant vicious persecution. The persecution is partly college initiated but there is an unseemly sight of a group of Cathedral clergy also involved in this cruelty. If there is indeed another story to be told about Percy’s malfeasance, it has not reached the public domain.  When all we are offered is silence and absurd rumours, we are forced to come to our own conclusions, ones which are not favourable to the Bishop or Percy’s enemies.

This blog has many times had cause to question the administration of justice in the Church of England.  The ability to trust the authority of bishops and authorities in the Church is an important prerequisite for the population outside church membership if they are ever to consider the claims of Christ.  If the existing servants of the Church are regarded as unreliable or, worse still, dishonest, then it is hard to see anyone wanting to join local congregations. Many future generations of children in France are unlikely to find a sense of safety in the Catholic fold after the recent exposures.  The same situation will apply when there are increasing failures of justice towards clergy in our Church.  Double standards in the Southwark diocese with regard to Jonathan Fletcher and Stephen Kuhrt has also left many of us perplexed.  There is a sense that the church seems totally out of its depth, even in administering its own rules and protocols. Once again, we come back to the plea that independent oversight is needed to save the church from its own disastrous decision making. If the church cannot deliver consistent justice, it ceases to be a safe place either for its employees or its members.

 By Edmund Weiner

In this guest post Edmund Weiner, a Iwerne alumnus, reassesses, in the light of Graystone’s book, his attitude to the Iwerne camps and the wider evangelical constituency of the Church of England. Among his memories, he makes the telling observation that the Iwerne camps did not implant into his mind any systematic structure of Christian teaching.  What remains in his memory are the words and music of CSSM choruses, a prominent feature of camp worship.   His post Iwerne experience in evangelicalism, which eventually led to a ‘parting company’ with the movement, is explored.  The reader obtains a flavour in this piece of the way that one Iwernite pilgrim negotiated his way through and beyond the evangelical institutions of his youth. We are given some new insights with which to understand better what, to some of us, is still a strange Christian culture. – Editor

In my previous contribution to this blog, I rather dismissed the suggestion that Iwerne was a cult. But reading Bleeding for Jesus has disturbed and shaken my previously quite positive attitude to Iwerne. I agree with the general feeling that labelling the movement a cult is not particularly helpful. The important thing is to identify the actual quality of Iwerne that underlies the feeling that the label cult could apply. In what I say below I’m trying to identify from my personal experience what that might be.

I parted company with the con-evo Anglican church thirty years ago (I was a committed Christian before joining it). Subsequently, I associated the bad experiences that led me to leave it, but which nonetheless dogged me for at least another decade, with the general ethos of evangelicalism that I picked up as a fervent member of my university Christian Union. I did not especially connect it with the Iwerne Minster camps which I attended during my undergraduate years fifty years back. In fact I tended to look back on the Iwerne experience slightly more positively, or perhaps more indulgently, than on my experiences in the CU, the various churches that I later attended, and the other evangelical groups that I belonged to.

But after reading Graystone I now regard my pleasant feelings about those camps with a certain degree of suspicion. For one thing, why have I not got — and why did I not have, twenty-five years ago, before ageing set in — the slightest memory of any of the talks given to the whole camp, or of any of the numerous Bible readings and Bible studies for officers and senior campers, which I attended? It’s odd, because the sentimental CSSM choruses that we all sang, over and over, are stamped on my memory: I could sing you a dozen of them if you could endure it! Were these the emotionally-charged honey which carried the pill of Iwerne teaching into my system? By contrast, I can certainly remember bits and pieces from Bible readings and Bible studies in the Christian Union, where the atmosphere, though quite intense, nevertheless partook much more of the general feel of university life, in which you discussed and critiqued your ideas, and your peers with different beliefs could scrutinize them. 

The Iwerne setting was very different from this. The academic world, the family world, the normal world, were all shut out. Everyone in the group was on side. Everyone around you was ultra friendly. You were kept frantically busy from morning to night, so that when the talks and studies came round, you were ready to relax all your faculties and give yourself over to whatever was on offer.  The use of isolation, intense friendliness, exhausting activities, heightened emotion, and simple, direct teaching have been identified as key elements in brainwashing. Now, I certainly don’t believe that we were brainwashed coercively, as people were under communism or still are within movements widely labelled as religious cults. I think it was a great deal more subtle. My hypothesis is that we were enticed into brainwashing ourselves. I think it was a profound inner pressure rather than an outward one. 

Clearly, successfully conditioned Iwernites to end up with very similar sets of beliefs, similar ways of speaking, dressing, and even wielding filofaxes, but I wonder now whether this is driven not so much by a need to conform to a group per se, as by an inner attitude, willingly adopted, that imperceptibly controls a person’s whole being: an ‘interior cult’, one might call it.

I did not become a Iwernite. After being let go by Iwerne, without any warnings, reproaches, or even expressions of regret from them, I continued life as an ‘ordinary’ evangelical for twenty years. But far from settling into a cheerful routine of believing and doing all the right things, I constantly questioned and examined the Christian assumptions and practices around me. There was an ongoing inner dialogue. I tried earnestly to make my understanding of the evo Way work. I wanted it to do for me what it said on the tin. It never quite did. I tried charismaticism in various forms. I frequently reached the point of disillusion, but something within repeatedly drew me back to what I came to think of as an ‘absolutist’, all-or-nothing commitment. The final such rebound brought me into a church splinter group with various extreme ideas, such as manipulative ‘prayer counselling’. The year we spent with them was extremely deleterious for me and my family. Its one and only benefit was that I finally woke up to the toxicity of evangelicalism (as I had practised it) and liberated myself from it.

What I’m saying in a perhaps long-winded way is that I’m now beginning to think that the toxic attitude that heavily influenced my thinking for twenty years was not caught in a general way from the CU, but was implanted quite specifically by the refined methodology of Iwerne. I’ve called it ‘absolutism’. I’m quite prepared to concede that some people have an element in their make-up that predisposes them to it more than others (my wife, for example, never caught the bug). But that doesn’t lessen the fact that it’s deeply embedded in Iwerneism. It’s an all-or-nothing teaching that ‘Bash’ imbibed from his mentor R. A. Torrey: the idea of ‘total surrender’ to God. 

I never succeeded in ‘surrendering’ fully to God, but spent years feeling guiltily that this was really what you should do. The people who teach this doctrine have ingeniously seized the high moral ground, since every Christian who disagrees with it thereby makes himself or herself feel like a half-hearted, compromising worldling. However, I’m inclined to think that at least some of those who successfully ‘surrender’ to God in this way undergo, not a genuine experience of God’s grace, but a dangerous act of psychological self-mutilation that can lead them into callousness and exploitative behaviour. I could say more, but I’ll leave it at that.