Dear Meg Munn

I was very grateful to read your ‘first reflections’  https://chairnsp.org/ in your role as Chair of the National Safeguarding Panel.   Like you, I approach this whole area of safeguarding as an outsider, though my status as a retired Anglican clergyman means that my relationship with the Church of England is different from yours.  Outsiders are sometimes in a privileged position to see things that others miss. My only formal contact with the world of organised safeguarding is to have obtained an attendance certificate from attending a morning session for retired clergy like myself here in the Newcastle diocese.  But I have also had my perspective formed by reading some of the massive amounts of material available online, particularly over the past twelve months.  This access to this detailed information has allowed me to function as a commentator.  I fulfil this self-appointed role through the medium of my blog, survivingchurch.org. There has been no shortage of material on which to comment recently.

Allow me to say a little more by way of personal introduction.  I have had an interest in power/abuse topics for some twenty years since researching for a book during the late 90s on the topic.  My perspective on the current sexual abuse issue is to see it primarily as the extreme expression of dysfunctional church dynamics.   To put it another way, I believe that we should see sexual abuse of children and vulnerable people as being at one end of a continuum of power abuse in the Church.  My blog has had as its aim helping people to think about the variety of ways that power can be mishandled and abused in church settings.  Sexual abuse of children is criminal, but there are other ways in which the Church can become a place of harm and danger for its members.

In your reflections, you referred to the various safeguarding organisations and structures you have had dealings with recently.   Some have been created by the Church, such as the National Safeguarding Team in London,and others are on the outside, as with the Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse (IICSA).  At a point later in your piece you refer to ‘survivor groups’.   I ask myself the question whether you have internalised a picture that there exist two entities in the safeguarding universe,the Church, struggling to make good the mistakes of the past, and its victims.  These two realities need to be reconciled through the safeguarding industry. I wonder whether in our thinking we are creating in our minds a classic ‘us-them’ scenario.

I would like to share with you a different perspective on this issue.  Space does not permit me to give a full account of all the things I have learned in my studies on abuse issues.  Neither can I share here all that I have learnt from church and cult survivors especially over the past five years of my blog.  In summary I would like to suggest that we are dealing with three realities which are present when we think about the overall practice of safeguarding.  The first entity is the organised church body which is active in creating structures to prevent the incidence of sexual abuse. It does this mainly by sensitising everyone in the Church to the dynamics of abuse and the importance of making the church a safe space. The second reality is the existence of survivors/victims. The Church’s record of care and support has been, in many cases, poor but the Church must not be allowed to forget them.   Further to these two, I want to point to a third reality which needs to be named and discussed.  The overall descriptive word for this entity is ‘culture’, a word which sums up the environmental factors which can give birth to the possibility and reality of spiritual abuse as well as the sexual abuse which is sometimes found within it.  I do not believe that sexual abuse or exploitation ever takes place in a vacuum.  There are, in the Church’s life, certain assumptions about theology, power and custom that may help to make possible this spiritual/sexual abuse.  If we want to successfully eliminate the sexual abuse of children and others, we must, when necessary, identify and face down those aspects of church culture that help,even indirectly, to incubate it in different ways.  To give just one example, the Church seems tacitly to encourage a culture of competition among its clergy.  Often clergy seem to care more for their status and power within the organisation than the people in their charge.  The Church also does little to discourage a manipulation of texts from the Bible which puts a minister in a place of real power over a congregation.  In such settings, real spiritual harm can take place.  When undue power and control in a congregation are not just tolerated but normalised, we are on the path to a place of danger.  That danger may include sexual abuse.

I would suggest that considerable resources need to be placed in making sure that the Church begins to understand far better the dynamics of dysfunctional power that commonly exist within it.  I have written a lot on this blog about the Church and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).  I would suggest that many of the power issues that ultimately result in sexual abuse can be linked to narcissistic disorders of various kinds.  But that is a huge subject which cannot be opened up here.

Meg, you mention in your piece that a number of your assumptions have been challenged.  Can I challenge at least one of those revealed in what you have written?  You speak about survivor groups.  This understanding of the way survivors normally operate is open to question.  There are of course some survivors who ‘go public’ but it is at great cost. Due to the trauma they have suffered, most survivors I know (not all Anglican) are not linked to any others.  I am in the privileged position of hearing from survivors who contact me privately with an account of their experiences.  They are mostly isolated in their pain.  There must be hundreds of others out there who have been loaded down with the shame of their experiences and who do not reach out to anyone.  Even though these individuals are invisible, they are there waiting for the Church to reach out to them.  They will never respond to the cruelty of being subjected to legal or psychiatric examination as part of some compensation deal.  The issue of survivors reporting that the treatment by the Church post-abuse is worse than the original episode, is something that urgently needs addressing.

If Meg, you find this Open Letter, I hope you find something in it helpful for your work.  My main advice to you is to allow all your assumptions to be challenged not once or twice, but many times.  Safeguarding and doing the right thing for survivors and the Church is a massive project.  You need help in this and that help is to be found in many places.

Stephen Parsons

 In the past week my attention has been drawn to a useful essay https://www.academia.edu/37932680/The_Lawful_Argument_for_the_Disestablishment_of_the_Church_of_England on the topic of disestablishment of the Church of England. The author, Richard Conway, a lawyer, is suggesting that the current safeguarding crisis in the Church of England is so serious that it brings into question the arrangements by which the Church is established and allowed to enjoy much legal independence.  In short, the Church needs to lose some of these legal privileges to allow outside bodies to oversee its safeguarding.  For me, the interest of the paper is not this issue of disestablishment.  It is the way that Conway sets out clearly the overall state of play over safeguarding in the Church, including a brief summary of Gilo’s story and the Elliot report that followed it.  A second point, of even greater value for me, is the fascinating section on the culture of the Church.  Although Conway is addressing problems in the Church of England, his comments could equally be said to apply to the Catholic Church, particularly after the IICSA hearing on Thursday 13 December.  The culture of protecting the institution,doubting and challenging the evidence of survivors and generally impeding the pursuit of justice, is an issue for both the major churches in this country.  But, returning to the Church of England and Conway’s paper, the claim is made strongly that the Church of England, based on its past record, is incapable of managing safeguarding on its own without outside help.

 I want to look at some of the observations that Conway makes with regard to the Church of England culture.  These overlap with themes that this blog has tried to explore in the past.  We have frequently mentioned the instinctive desire to protect the institution against perceived attacks from the outside. This may take the form of covering up incidences of abuse, not recognising them for what they are and failing to report them to the secular authorities.   Some church members will typically question the credibility of survivors and victims as well ‘degradate these individuals in favour of the alleged abusers’.

What Conway adds to the discussion beyond these observations,is an attempt to explain this defensive stance in psychological/sociological terms. The paper refers to an article published in 2017 in ‘Child Abuse Review’.  This supports the hypothesis that church people have typically a tendency to be sceptical in the face of the claims of survivors.  The paper then intriguingly goes on to speak of a ‘narcissistic identification’ with the church and speaks about‘selves, merged to the religious institution’. 

Speaking of ‘narcissistic identification’ may make the paper a little technical for the general reader. Here, however, what is being explained is of great importance on the theme of abuse in churches, so I thought it would be worth trying to unpack this language to see what is being said about why church people are not good at treating survivors well.  From bishops downwards, many church people still find it hard to welcome survivors and listen to them with the dignity and respect they deserve.   

The expression ‘narcissistic identification’ takes us back to a branch of psychoanalytical theory which came into being through the writings of one Heinz Kohut in the 70s in the States.  I have tried to wade through his dense prose,but the outlines of his theory are reasonably clear.   Every human being has to construct a sense of self in childhood.   This is accomplished through a gradual process of separation from parents.  The close psychological merger with the protecting figures of infancy gives way to independence and autonomy.  This is the process of establishing a secure self which has the ability to cope with the normal stresses of life and relationships.  Unfortunately, the path towards securing a solid sense of self is sometimes met with set-backs, maybe caused by parental neglect or trauma.  In the place of a secure self, the child and later adult has a weakened identity.   They are, according to the classic Kohutian model, ‘narcissistically wounded’,though the levels of its severity will vary enormously.  Their recourse is to seek ‘self-objects’, entities(people or things) with which they can merge to relieve the emptiness that exists inside them.  The need to ‘feed’ their emptiness by a variety of strategies, will sometimes involve controlling groups of other people. Narcissistic behaviour will normally be a trait of cult leaders who are manipulating their followers in ways that that meet their emotional neediness of the leader.  Narcissistic neediness may also be found among the followers of a religious/political leader.  He/she provides a powerful but flawed role model with which to identify, again fulfilling the role of a ‘self-object’.  The dynamics of many churches, particularly those of a charismatic style, can be interpreted by recourse to this narcissistic model. 

When Conway speaks about a ‘narcissistic identification’ on the part of church members, he appears to be saying that the church institution has become a ‘self-object’, a part of the ‘self ’of its members so that one can speak of a narcissistic merger with it.  To put it another way, the sense of self/identity has become bound up seamlessly with their membership of the church. There is probably nothing surprising or unusual in this, except when it becomes an impediment to clear vision and the just treatment of abuse survivors.

Richard Conway is familiar with Gilo’s story and he knows the extraordinary way that several bishops completely failed to ‘recollect’ the moment they were told about Gilo’s encounters with his abuser.  The same institutional narcissism seems to beat work as when people within congregations cannot bear to hear any ill of people who have become part of their identity in a narcissistic way.  To attack my hero, the one on whom I have identified some key parts of my identity, is to attack me.

The explanation of the way that narcissistic processes are at work in the failure of some congregations and church leaders to support victims and believe their stories is an important insight in our attempt to understand the Church’s failures in this area.  It will always be dangerous to internalise the idea that the individual is below the organisation.   Not only does the notion fail justice, as we have seen happen in both Catholic and Anglican churches, but it also destroys and undermines integrity and honesty, both corporate and individual.

Since I was a theological student I have never been attracted to the theology of John Calvin, the 16^th century Swiss Reformer.  What little I knew about him and the Puritanism that he inspired, seemed always to put a damper on Christian  joy and freedom.  In recent weeks, in my attempts to understand the American Right and the onward march of conservative Christian ideas under Trump, I have been forced to consider the man and his doctrines as a way of getting a handle on an approach to the Christian faith for which I have had little appetite. The book that I have recently read, Blueprint for Theocracy by James C Sanford, makes it clear that ignoring Calvin is no longer an option if anyone wants to comprehend the mind-set of conservative Christians and the so-called Christian Right.

The first foundational idea of Calvin and his followers is the idea that God is all-powerful and has control over every part of his creation including humankind.  Out of this grasp of the sovereignty of God comes a strong sense that he is all-knowing.  In particular, he knows the future of every individual.  Predestination, the doctrine that gives all, Calvinists and non-Calvinists alike, cause to shudder, is a logical working out of this idea of God’s supreme sovereignty.  This states that God has already decided on those that he has determined to save and those he will condemn.

Calvinism as a system was not adopted without resistance in Protestant Europe.   Among the conflicts that raged in the 16^th-17^th centuries was the debate with Arminius over the problem of what we call free-will.  This debate was well aired at the Synod of Dort in 1618-1619.  Calvinism was also later refined in the so-called Westminster Confession in 1646.  Both these councils, written at times of civil conflict, were to stress the harsher and more rigorous aspects of Calvin’s thought. 

The doctrine of the all-seeing sovereignty of God, as set out by Calvin, is one that is, arguably, deeply claustrophobic for those who try to live by it.  The notion that a judgmental God governs every event of our life and is in control of every detail, is likely to place a Christian in a permanent state of anxiety and tension.  Predestination is also a harsh doctrine and even Calvin admitted this.  His response was to quote the passage in Romans 9 where the clay is denied any right to interrogate the potter. 

Calvinism is, to summarise, a system which emphasises the will of God above the exercise of human reason.  Questioning God is not permitted because mere creatures cannot expect explanations from their creator.  Unaided human reason can never be allowed to query this supreme principle.

It does not take much imagination to see how the doctrine of God’s sovereign will being the dominating truth fits well with conservative understandings of the supremacy of Scripture.  All ideas about infallibility and inerrancy of the Bible and its central authoritative place in Christian teaching sit alongside Calvin’s emphasis on the idea of the supreme sovereignty of God.  Just as the faithful cannot argue with the purposes of the Creator, neither can there be discussion or disagreement with the ‘plain’ words of Scripture which reveal God’s will.  The power of human reason is in any case compromised by the fact that human beings are, for Calvin, corrupted by the depravity of original sin.  Here he was following the teaching of Augustine.  Scholastic theology taught by the mediaeval Catholic thinkers had softened this doctrine so that the schoolmen allowed human reason to have some autonomous power in the scheme of things.  Eastern Orthodox thinking also never allowed the human capacity for sin to wipe away the potential for the exercise of reason and the possibility of ‘divinisation’ or transformation by God in this life.

Calvin faced a problem in his teaching of the utter corruption of human nature.  How was anyone ever to know anything about God in the first place if human nature was so depraved?  He introduced into his thinking the notion of a universal ‘awareness of the divine’.  Some, those who count themselves Christian, respond to this impulse.   Others ignore it to their destruction.  This binary distinction between the followers of God and the ‘God-haters’ is based on a passage in the first chapter of Romans (18-25).   It further creates the mind-set that those who respond to God are in one camp while everyone else is somehow an enemy of faith.

The way that Calvin’s binary thinking has been embraced by huge numbers of Christians today has, I feel, done enormous harm to the Christian Church.  Calvinists and those who come after them, have got used to thinking that the only way to respond to those who do not share their belief is to convert them, thus bringing the ‘other’ into the circle of their belief system.  ‘Preaching the gospel’ will always be understood to be like snatching burning twigs from a fire which would otherwise destroy them.  There is no sense that God is already at work in the world or among people who think in different ways.  An obsession with sin and destruction meant that Calvin and his followers had (have) little appreciation for the world of the arts and secular learning generally.  The 16^th-17^th century wholesale destruction of paintings, books and statues in Britain was inspired by such Puritan/Calvinist ideas.  The mediaeval church buildings in England survived for the most part; in Scotland, by contrast, the old worship buildings were, for the most part, deliberately destroyed in the frenzy of a more thorough-going Calvinist Reformation.  In the whole of Scotland only one small section of stained glass from before 1500 survives to this day.

Calvin, to his credit, did seek to apply what he believed about God to the world of civil affairs.  He gave 20 years of his life trying to work out the principles of ‘theocracy’ in the city of Geneva.  For Calvin, God was concerned for the detail of civil government and the administration of justice.   By modern standards Calvin’s theocracy was, however, experienced by minorities as a tyranny.  Any independent thinking, including the development of the scientific method, always has a difficult time in such theocratic settings. Linking ‘truth’ only to propositions found in Scripture made it difficult for the scientific method to evolve.  The contemporary hostility to Darwin and the study of Climate Change among conservative Christians in the States can be traced back to the religious hostility to secular knowledge encouraged by Calvin. 

The values of contemporary Christian liberals, which include tolerance, freedom and the ability to live with difference, are principles that are sadly opposed by the elaborate systems of Christian thinking based on Calvin and his ideas.  Those of us who value the principles of this liberal way need to be better informed about his system of thinking.  We also need to be ready to resist it when it tries to shut down our desire to think about Christianity and share its insights from quite different perspectives.

The impact of the interview of Jo Kind by Cathy Newman on Channel 4 last night (Wednesday) will continue to reverberate for some time to come. The details of how Jo was abused in the late 80s and early 90s, when an employee of Tom Walker and St John’s Harborne may, in the end, turn out to be the least important part of the story. Arguably the most compelling detail of the saga was the belief by some senior individuals within the Diocese of Birmingham that Jo should be asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) before viewing the independent report about her own case. Her current work with survivors of church related abuse suggested to her that such NDAs were routine across the country in such situations.

This blog post is not going to discuss the details of Jo’s abuse or the process that led up to the report by an independent reviewer about the way her case was dealt with. Clearly the senior staff, including the Bishop, have come out of the affair rather poorly. Channel 4 has seen a copy of the Review and, in a redacted version, it is available from the Diocesan Secretary in Birmingham. All we have at present on the diocesan website are the recommendations by the reviewer and the ‘Lessons Learnt Review Statement’. Here we find no mention of the NDA even though it is the part of the story that has been repeatedly mentioned by the Press, and radio this morning, as a key feature in the whole episode.

The NDA that Jo was asked to sign, was, as we have mentioned, a condition for her being given access to the official independent report on her case. Two Archbishops, Rowan Williams in 2011 and Justin Welby in 2018 have decried their use in any situation where the Church is responding to abuse survivors. I want, in this post, to reflect on the morality of NDAs and suggest they are an affront to openness as well as compromising the pursuit of justice. They can be compared with burdening a child with a family secret which then has to be carried for decades. Not telling this secret is hard and it is frequently corrosive on family relationships. The adults who signed the Official Secrets Act in the war went to their graves without ever being able to share with others what they had done to help their country. ‘Non-disclosure’ and secrets are at the very least costly and unhealthy for those who possess them.

Keeping secrets for others is difficult and hard to do. Supressing the details of what you have experienced in the way of abuse is even more demanding. We all know from our understanding of the process of recovery, from any kind of abuse, that an important task for the victim is to be able to recall and share the memories. This needs to be done in an environment that is safe. I can hardly imagine how hard it must be to have a memory of abuse that will always be unsafe to share. The NDA, once it has been internalised, acts as kind of filter to memory. Even to recall that memory is perceived as dangerous to your well-being. You cannot let it out or communicate it to anyone else. To put it another way, non-disclosure changes a traumatic memory into a kind of mental poison that permanently threatens psychological well-being.

What I am trying to do in reflecting on NDAs is to suggest that anyone who is ever required to sign one in a church context should shrink with total horror even when they are mentioned. Any moral standpoint, Christian or not, can see that to supress in any way memories of abuse, offends justice and ordinary morality. Putting an individual in a place where past hurts can never be shared or healed is to compound the original crime. The humanity and dignity of the victim are under attack for the second time.

On various occasions I have repeated the claim of victims and survivors that the treatment by the Church after their original abuse was far worse than the original incident. Even the suggestion that any survivor should in any way bury the memory of a past trauma through signing an NDA is shocking and needs to be resisted. In the ‘Lesson Learnt Statement’ put out by the Diocese of Birmingham, the NDA is nowhere mentioned. Perhaps we can surmise that whoever asked Jo to sign such a document was working outside the discussions of the diocesan senior staff. Are we right once again to see the footprint of an insurance company? Does an NDA serve the interests of a body who presumably was responsible for settling the civil claim against the Church?

In conclusion we would claim that the use of NDAs by the Church is an offence to decency and morality. It also subtly undermines the pursuit of healing following an abusive event. For the Church to do something that impedes healing is a kind of blasphemy to the shalom that is right at the heart of what Jesus came to share. It is hard to see how the Church should ever use such offensive legal mechanisms again in its dealings with victims/survivors. One wonders how it was ever possible for these agreements to be wheeled out in a church context. In the place of legal pressurising techniques, perhaps the Church should start to show proper shame and remorse that these methods were even thought of.

In the past week I have come across two pieces of writing which have helped me to understand the poor state of ecumenism in the Church today. Before I describe these documents, I want to explain a little of my own personal background within the so-called Ecumenical Movement of the past. As a student I was fortunate to spend four months in Geneva at the Ecumenical Institute studying with other students from all over the world. This gave me an appreciation of the sheer variety of theological expression that exists in different parts of the world.

Some fifteen years later in the 80s I was asked to take on the role of an ecumenical officer in the Diocese of Hereford alongside my parochial responsibilities. This involved helping in the support of initiatives for ecumenical activity in the area and getting to know those involved. In addition, I was required to be up to speed with various ecumenical documents that were being produced at the time. In some ways the period was an ecumenical golden age. Everyone was encouraged by the publication of the ARCIC statements and the so-called Lima documents. We looked forward to the future with great optimism. We believed that unity was not just something that people wanted but also something that could possibly be soon within the grasp of the whole Church.

Since 1987, when I left Hereford, I have been aware how the enthusiasms of that period seem to have totally evaporated. There are probably various ways to account for this, but I want to offer some of my own understanding on this issue. Ecumenism as an idea ceases to capture the imagination of 21st century Christians because the attitudes that allowed it then to flourish are far harder to find. Ecumenism can thrive when there is a sense on the part of all Christians that their denominational allegiances are to some extent dictated by history. Anglican dogmatic formularies, like the 39 Articles, belong to a moment of history. That does not make them null and void, but we must take care if they are to be used in any way to define a contemporary Anglican identity. Much of the denominational identity of other Christian bodies is also rooted in the past. When Christians come together for ecumenical discussion there can be a mutual readiness to explore these past histories and see the strengths and weaknesses that have been handed down. Ecumenical conversation was often an exercise in mutual humility as past misunderstandings could be explored and understood with fresh eyes. Ecumenical discussion in short could be creative and transformative for all concerned. There is so much to learn, not least new insights from one’s own tradition.

The state of ecumenism today has changed radically because, arguably, fewer Christians have a sense of being rooted in a distinct historical context, one that gives shape to their current Christian identity. Anglicans of my generation have a far stronger sense of the past and the way that this past has affected the way we do theology in the present. The conservative evangelical way to do theology is to suggest it is in some way timeless, divorced from culture and the limitations of language. The Bible is treated as though it is a divine document from outside time. It is thus impervious to any criticism. Denominational Protestant Christianity (Methodists, Presbyterians etc) with its strong sense of the past and the way that history has shaped its contemporary expression is seen by these conservatives as an enemy. The only Christianity that is valid for conservative Protestants is one that is built on biblical truth as they understand it. There is no space for the kind of humble mutual searching that used to be part of ecumenical discussion.

To say that ‘biblical’ conservative Christianity is arrogant and insensitive to the way that other Christians think is probably an understatement. The expression of Christianity that I am talking about, typically emanates from the United States and is keen to shut down all expressions of the Christian faith except its own. This past week I have stumbled across a reference to a publication put out by a little-known conservative organisation in America called the Institute on Religion and Democracy. This group is one that wishes to oppose all forms of denominational Christianity on the grounds that historical denominations do not conform to the narrow conservative perspective of ‘Bible Christians’. The technique it uses is to encourage and resource ‘renewal groups’ within mainstream denominations, such as Presbyterian, Methodist and Episcopal. Under the banner of restoring ‘theological integrity’ to these churches, it provides advice on how to ferment dissension within these denominations. It speaks about energising traditionalists and opposing and ‘discrediting the Religious Left’. This Institute is thus working hard to reverse all the efforts of a hundred years of ecumenical work in the West. In short it wants to destroy those Christian groups which have histories, theologies and traditions which conservative Christians do not share.

The second piece I have read in the past week was a short letter in the Church Times about the work of St Helen’s Bishopsgate. We have already spoken of this congregation as a major centre for the conservative group REFORM. The letter was written by a senior Anglican priest working in the City of London. It tells us that St Helen’s does not allow its clergy or laity to pray with other Anglicans in the deanery. Nor are they to take part in any activities that imply partnership in the gospel. Canon Joyce, the author of the letter, expressed amazement that a church with such attitudes should be designated as a ‘resource church’ for the Church of England.

Those of us who remember the days when ecumenism seemed to be flourishing both nationally and internationally must be, like me, filled with foreboding at these indications of a profoundly anti-ecumenical spirit in the church. We are not just talking about destructive behaviour by non-Anglican pressure groups. We are also encountering toxic relationships being encouraged by wealthy and powerful congregations ostensibly within the Anglican fold. This blog has always had as its aim to highlight abusive power relationships within the church. Today we are identifying the way that the Church is being openly undermined by powerful groups from the far right in politics and theology. Ultimately the interests of right-wing groups seek to destroy and undermine anything that stands in their way. As I indicated in my piece on theocracy, there is no room for discussion, consensus or disagreement in the world of right-wing Christianity. We in our turn need to stand up against all these attempts to destroy and undermine inclusivity, tolerance, and kindness in our churches. We need our Christian faith to stand up for old fashioned ideas of diversity and the dignity of difference so that a variety of Christian experiences can live alongside one another for the mutual enrichment of all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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