A little bit about me (1)

People have asked me where I got my love for reading, and in particular wrestling with the Scriptures from. Often the question is asked because of the working class background that I come from; indeed I remember at one interview a University Vice-Chancellor looking down through her spectacles, which were perched on the end of her nose, asked, ‘were you an unusual child, Dr Ellis?’ 

The Vice-Chancellor had made the assumption that working class children did not read, and here was I with a New Testament doctorate challenging her assumptions. Tim Chester makes the following point: ‘many working-class people love to read. There is a long history of self-improvement through literacy among working-class people, which finds expression in workers’ libraries and organizations like the Workers’ Education Association’.[1] Specifically within the UK, there has been, (or was), a long history of education being a means of escape from a life of relatively low-aspiration.

To answer the first question about a love for reading, you will have to come with me to Hillfoot School in Sheffield, to a reception class. A rather shy white-haired boy sat on the carpet with Joanne, Craig and Glynn and 15 others. Mrs Dahlek spoke softly, and asked what she had written on the blackboard. Only two of the class knew; I never knew that Kevin was spelt that way. I did not know it probably could be captured and put down like that I did not know that I could not read. I was after all 4. But that moment did give me a real desire to learn to decipher squiggles on a page; and my love for reading began to take shape.

The second about the love for the Bible is a little more complex. I was nurtured in the Christian faith at Parkwood Springs Primitive Chapel and then at St James and St Christopher’s Shiregreen. I am not sure either place had a particular focus on the Bible; although having said that I do remember stories being told by Miss Lovell, the Sunday School Superintendent, and still remember the particular timbre in her voice as she told them. I also remember how deeply intertwined both Christian communities were in their local communities, from running Boys Brigades and Scout Troops, Walks of Witness (May Queen festivals combined with Pentecost) and Lunch Clubs, which provided food for the elderly and work experience for those with learning disabilities. Therefore if it is true that for most people the only Bible they encounter is the lived witness of a Christian community, then what these local expressions of faith taught was a story of inclusion, generosity, laughter and gritty determination. These sit cheek by jowl with petty power politics, child-like squabbles and a resolve to exclude people who did not quite fit. Churches in urban areas, like those in sub-urban, rural and inner city, are usually an accurate reflection of the communities that surround them. They are often people with broken lives attempting to live life differently. It is my experience that the overarching story of the Bible can provide some scaffolding to help people to do just that.

St James and St Christopher’s Church, Shiregreen was a typical urban estate Parish Church. Even now, I cannot say for definite which particular tribe of English Anglicanism it fits into. During my childhood and teenage years, it oscillated between central catholic, intellectual liberal and open evangelical depending who the vicar was at the time. each incumbent introduced different things: more smells than bells, Christian Aid week that seemed to last for longer than seven days, proving the truth of the fact God’s time is different to ours and the ‘gentle’ charismatic traditions of John Wimber. For me though it all represented what Christianity was. It was the heady days before I discovered Christianity was tribal, surely all Christianity was Shiregreen shaped. Of course, I observed adults behaving squabbling apparently like petulant toddlers over what they did and did not like. Nobody seemed to quote from Scripture.

The Scriptures were read in a particular tone. Everyone flat lined as they read ‘the Lesson’. We were schooled, each one of us, by Henry Cooper (not that one), who had been Church warden as he said ‘since Noah was a lad’. Henry was the one who got the Bible out, who placed in on the reading desk, and made sure it was open at the right page. I was allowed to read as part of the Scout Parade. Those who were not good enough to read because they had not served their time in the church or could not read in Henry’s way were not allowed to do so. The Bible was the warden’s personal fiefdom.

It was however at the age of 14, discovering that I was not allowed to go to a bible study group because I did not have ‘a proper adult faith’ and ‘could not be expected to understand the Bible’ that stimulated my curiosity and desire to know more about my faith. In retrospect the vicar who said I could not join in did me a favour; teenagers, then as now, are only too willing to prove people wrong.

It was through participation in youth groups at neighbouring churches, where I encountered others of similar age, wrestling with the story of Jesus as told by Luke for A level RE, and two years with the London City Mission (LCM) that fuelled my desire to get to grips with the Christian Scriptures.

It was in the LCM base on Old Jamaica Road in Bermondsey that I encountered the idea of reading the Scriptures every day. It had, I think, never occurred to me before. There is a story of my arrival at LCM that is worth telling because it is, or was, illustrative of aspiration on a housing estate. I blew my ‘A’ levels the first time around. It was my fault; if you are up all night working for Mission Sheffield before you take them, then you will not usually be switched on for exams. The second time around was different: worked hard (extra timed essays, weekends spent in the research section of Sheffield City Library – this was a necessity, space was needed to learn) and was absolutely focused. In spite of this, I did not go straight to university. I did not think I was bright enough. The school was not particularly switched on, not even a handful of pupils went on to university. Hammond describes a ‘wall in the head’ for people living on estates. That was true for me; so I did not apply; and when I did eventually make an application, it was a hokey cokey moment, with it being put in and out of the pillar box a number of times, before the application was loaned to Her Majesty on the way to UCCA.

The desire to learn and apply Scripture was cultivated by the leaders of the Voluntary Evangelism Scheme. I went for two weeks, and stayed for over two years. They took a chance with a shy and insecure 19 year old, and my journeying with the Bible was about to take a dramatic turn.

The LCM is an evangelical organisation – not that I knew what that was and meant at the time – they were just a group of people seeking to make sense of their faith in Jesus Christ in a late 20^th Century context. We were trained in a particular form of evangelism; and encouraged to relate the Bible – and specifically what God might be saying through the Scriptures to those we came into contact with.

I was appalling naive. I was devouring the written text of the scriptures with aplomb. I had just finished reading about the various features of Solomon’s Temple when a little later, I knocked on Isaac’s door. He came sleepily to the door, and explained that he had just arrived from Nigeria, so was jet lagged; whereupon I launched into a 20 minute explanation of ‘how Solomon’s Temple worked, and how it had been superseded by the work of Jesus on the cross’. After, asking Isaac whether he had understood the importance of what I was saying, and he looking a little puzzled; I repeated everything again but a little slower; just about reaching the court of the priests when the door was politely closed before me.

However I also had the opportunity to work alongside an Irish missionary, whose whole way of life who lived and breathed a form of theology of liberation. He may never have read Mesters’ Defenseless Flower or Rowland’s Liberating Exegesis[2], but he knew the stories of the Bible set people free. His work as a London City Missionary emphasised personal salvation, but his experience of life in Ireland meant that he could echo with ease some of narratives of the liberationists who struggled to make sense of the Bible alongside broken and oppressed people.

---

[1] Tim Chester, Unreached, Leicester: IVP, 2012, p 140.

[2] Defenseless Flower: A New Reading of the Bible (New York: Orbis Books, 1991)

The Oppressor in the Mirror

The Oppressor in the Mirror

On 26 September 2015 at around 9:54pm, there was an almighty roar and the whole pub stood as one, England had been defeated by Wales at Twickenham in the Rugby World Cup. Choruses of Mae hen and Calon Lan were sung with gusto. On 17 October, South Africa defeated Wales. The pub was quiet, until one voice said, ‘I will live on the victory over the English for decades’

Mae hyn yn fy stori. Dw i’n symud ym Mae Treaddur o Birmingham yn mis Chwefror 2014.

This is essentially my story. I moved to Bae Trearddur on the edge of Anglesey from Bartley Green in Birmingham. Nothing could have prepared me in many ways for the culture shock that I was about and continue to experience.

I am an Anglican priest. I have been through a number of highly creative programmes that have made me aware of race, gender and sexuality. I pride myself on being tolerant and open in the way that any one trained through the Queen’s Foundation in Birmingham should. All of this was brought into sharp focus by the relocation to Wales

It has been a journey of unlearning, of discovering that what I had presumed had been a shared history of between the nations of the British Isles is far from that. Like many educated in England, my history was a British history littered with the names of crowned individuals and tales of daring do of English men and occasionally of English women. I knew hardly anything about Welsh history and culture, and began a discovery that concluded that the much heralded characteristic of English fair play does not appear to have been in evidence with how the English or British establishment had dealt with the people of Wales. The fact that overt bias is seemingly a thing of the past does not mean that it does not linger in the collective memory. The following example is poignant.

When you are new to a context, you meet lots of people, and also go out of your way to introduce yourself. On one such occasion, I sat with the Head of the local secondary school for the first time. About 20 minutes in, I was struck deeply and profoundly by his words.

‘My Dad was caned at school for speaking Welsh and made to wear the knot. Whenever I meet someone who is from England, I remember that and our history’

I had no idea of that the Westminster government had tried to make English the first language of Wales. I knew nothing about pupils being punished for simply speaking their mother tongue. I knew nothing of what the head teacher termed ‘our history’

I knew nothing of the so-called Blue Book or Brad y Llyfrau Gleision which the 1847 Government report into State of Education in Wales has become known.

Two quotes illustrate its conclusions

‘Teach English and bigotry will be banished’

‘The Welsh language is a vast drawback to the Welsh and a manifold barrier to the moral progress and commercial prosperity of the people. It is not easy to overestimate its evil effect`

Some of the attempts to make English normative were dressed as enabling different choices to be made. In order to improve pupils’ knowledge of the English language, the Welsh education system of the late 19^th century employed the ‘Welsh Not’ or ‘Welsh stick’ as a method of discouraging children from speaking Welsh. This small piece of wood was given in turn to individuals overheard talking Welsh, and whoever was wearing it by the end of the week was often severely punished.

Whilst such practices officially fell away in the early 20^th Century, in parts of Anglesey they continued. Several of my congregation from their late 40s to late 70s recall wistfully Welsh being side-lined in order to enable them to get on.

Coupled with the official and unofficial repression of the language, there has been a continual suspicion and perhaps mockery from across the border.

If an Englishman enters a shop in Welsh-speaking parts of Wales, the locals are likely to switch promptly to speaking Welsh. Thus the Englishman cannot be sure whether they are talking about him

That this comment was made in 1994 by the then Secretary of State for Wales, John Redwood is reflective of continuing misunderstanding of Wales, its culture and language by those tasked with governing the four nations of the British Isles. Since this comment was made, Wales has been given a measure of devolved power, and its political parties are agreed that there should be further devolution, yet unlike its Celtic cousin, Scotland, Wales does not seem to have a genuine appetite for formal independence.

The discovery of this shared history led me to the realisation that the reflection looking back at me from the mirror was a representative of the Oppressor was galling and an impetus for further reflection.

To have to engage cross-culturally is something many Practical Theologians pride themselves on, both within our own discipline and across the multifarious fields of theology, the social sciences, humanities et al. in my case having been formed within the guild of biblical scholarship, I am all too aware of the need to take context seriously and the nuances within different languages, times and nations.

Reflection in practical ministry becomes honed by its praxis. I have sought to engage cross-culturally by honouring the language, by learning it, as well as by immersing myself in the various cultures of Wales. This has not been without its problems. Speaking Welsh for many is problematic for many reasons, but in my own context particularly for an older generation who were denied the opportunity to do so when they were younger; ‘English being the language needed to get on’. That an English vicar is re-introducing their mother tongue into the liturgy is for them both a source of pride and a challenge. Pride because it is not any English vicar, but their one and a challenge as it takes them out of their own comfort zone.

I could not have begun to this without attentively listening, seeing the image in the mirror and being willing to embrace and be embraced by a different context. That is incarnational theology and ministry, which I suspect is the topic for a different paper.

A view from the edge: bishops talk sexuality (in England)

I was baptised by a nurse when I was born, anointed by a priest for healing shortly afterwards, prepared for confirmation by a priest and confirmed by the Bishop of Doncaster in St Hilda's, trained for ordained ministry at the place where the traditions meet: Queen's Foundation, and served my title in Matson, Gloucester, was Team Vicar, Team Rector and a Vicar all within the context of the Church of England. I love it. It nurtured me and has given me life, and hope one day to have opportunity to serve it again.

The recent publication of the English House of Bishops arising out of the shared conversations that took place within General Synod represented something of an opportunity missed. The resultant myriad of reactions that have taken place around the report have for me clouded the fact that the opportunity for the church to be both missional and inclusive in the fullest gospel sense of the word may have been lost for some time, although God can redeem the most surprisingly hopeless situations. Inclusivity obviously means welcoming all, but not necessarily an acceptance of everything. Conservatives often construct a straw personage here. Liberals, Catholics, Progressives, Open, Charismatics have their particular effigies too. It is easy for protagonists on both sides of the debate (although sides is a misnomer given that the voices who have been heard are on a spectrum rather than split into two oppositional factions) to forget that their opponents are other human beings fashioned in the image of God.

Why was it an opportunity missed?

I think it does not fully recognise that in affirming a particular definition of marriage, it is in danger of reading back a singular view into the Scriptures. This is not particularly good exegesis. This is not to say that marriage is unimportant in the Scriptures, but that it is at times quite messy. The patriarchs and matriarchs had interesting relationships which are mirrored in 21st Century society. It would be easier sometimes for me if that were not the case, but it is. Thus, if you want to welcome the commitment to a biblical definition of marriage, you do need to answer the obvious question, which definition are we talking about.

There is also the clear teaching that sex is only or rightly for marriage. This has been the traditional teaching of the Church, but is not seemingly now the practice even amongst Christians. I very rarely have couples approach me for marriage in church who are not living together and already have a stable family life or have children from previous relationships. This is not to say that the Church should not teach that sex rightly belongs within a loving relationship, exemplified by marriage, but we do nothing to make our message accessible by seeming to suggest that sex outside of the marital relationship should not occur or is in some sense always sinful.

The Bishop's report fails to capture the fact that many Christians are in loving, deeply committed, sacrificial same sex relationships. It is as if in writing the report, gay Christians have become invisible. I am not sure that the Bishops collectively intended this, but it seems to me that is what the report does. The report has attempted to close the closet door once more, however all that it has done is leave friends and allies of gay Christians confused and bewildered as to why their sisters and brothers have not been affirmed and welcomed. Welcome, hospitality and affirmation are part of what Christians have always thought to have been essential to their faith, not least because such are drawn from biblical teaching about God.

Conservative commentators often caution about affirmation and welcome for two specific reasons. First that we, as Anglicans, are part of a world wide communion and second that Scripture is clearly against same sex relationships, both of which need dealing with.

I am a proud Anglican. I love the fact that I am part of something bigger. I delight in the fact that Christians in persecuted countries can draw comfort from this too, and if that makes a real practical difference in their lives - and I believe it does - I would want to do nothing that would undermine it. I have never met a single British Christian regardless of gender, class, orientation et al who would. Maybe I live a sheltered life now on the edge of Wales. Most Anglican Christians I know are deeply committed to the bonds of affection which bind us together in Christ and to one another. That surely does not mean that there cannot be difference, indeed many differences pass unnoticed, they are simply cultural, and indeed we have much to learn from each others cultures. But if the Communion is to mean anything, we must be able to speak robustly to each other.  It is what families do. Some Provinces treat Gay Christians amongst them terribly, just as the Provinces within the United Kingdom do not treat everyone as they should. Such actions need challenging, just as much as the real persecution suffered by our brothers and sisters in the global south.

I am also a proud evangelical. Much of my spiritual growth has come from within that tradition, even before I knew it had a particular label. I love wrestling with the Scriptures. They feed me and give me life. For within the Scriptures are words that lead to salvation, primarily because they reveal who Jesus is. Sometimes due to my fallibility I fail to grasp this.

I have devoted a fair bit of my life to the ministry of the evangelist, and still see it as perhaps the most important part of my role as an ordained minister, even if I do not make the most of all the opportunities that are presented.

The Bishop of Maidstone writes.

We must also continue to pray for – and draw alongside – those who feel great pain that the relationships they value cannot be reconciled with God’s Word. 

The assumption that loving relationships cannot be reconciled to God's word is based on a small number of proof texts, as well as I would suggest notions of what is the proper created order. The general gamut of Scripture is one of welcome, hospitality and affirmation., for such are reflective of God.

I realise that the report issued by the Bishops will be debated by the Synod and there will be opportunity for members to put forward different arguments. In doing so, there must be a desire to continue to meet and listen together, to embrace rather than exclude, and also to pray.

We must pray for our Bishops and theologians that God will continue to guide

We must pray for each other on all sides of this discussion

Paul Bayes, the Bishop of Liverpool, said that we need to learn the names of those we criticise: https://viamedia.news/2017/01/29/elders-of-the-tribe/

We need to pray for opportunities to learn the names of those we might in some way consider to be other.

Those of us who are not LBTI++ must also remember that is not ourselves that we are talking about, and it is often our Christian brothers and sisters who are hurt when we exclude, and that some of our action and talking, even when acted out of good intention, seems to prevent a growing number of people we believe are imago dei from hearing the good news of the gospel.

That would go against all that this evangelical believes.

One Year On

It is a year today since our mum died. I have written this today.

There is no diamond glint on snow

The melody of music has faded now
Even the echoes of laughter have hollowed out
The dance has stopped
and there is no diamond glint on snow

Death has never been nothing at all
and hopes of resurrection are on pause
as life colourless for now
has gone on and gathered pace

Relationships have been reconfigured
and memory sometimes wears a smile
But I know this - and this alone
I miss her and would give anything for her to be home

I have joined Changing Attitude - Cymru

I have a confession to make. It is not an earth shattering one. I am a jobbing vicar ploughing a furrow at the edge of Wales (standing in succession to Cybi and Gwenfaen amongst others).

I have joined Changing Attitude - Cymru. The Cymru bit is important, It does not to me seem as harsh as its English sibling. I am aware that this is a value judgement.

I am an evangelical. I take evangelism, personal discipleship and the witness of the Scriptures very seriously indeed. (Other traditions do too... I can only speak from the tradition of which I am part). One of the highlights of my week at present is leading a Youth Alpha course and I long to see ordinary everyday churchgoers share their faith.

I have followed the discussions held both within the Church in Wales and the Church of England quite closely about human sexuality. Sadly, the debate has all too often revolved around same sex relationships rather than human sexuality in its broadest sense. This is not always helpful.

I have, I think, while being pastorally caring and sensitive (my care and sensitivity have led me into all sorts of problems), I have stood resolutely against the Church offering anything beyond a welcome to those in same sex relationships or people who were attracted to people of the same sex.

I have changed my mind on this issue. Many others have. Many have not. I will always defend the right of those who hold different views to me to do so. I did not stand by and allow those who were members of Changing Attitude to be attacked personally before I joined, and I will not stand by and allow people who do not agree with me now to be subject to abuse either. In any family, differences will be inevitable. What we do with those differences, whilst maintaining relationships is the key thing. Disagreement can be robust and sometimes heated, but it need not be destructive. That would go against the heart of the gospel. The advent of social media is in general a force for good, but has meant we have been able to label, categorise, box and therefore dismiss the other, without accepting that it is other humans we have 'demonised'. No theological tradition can hold up its hand and say it has not had people within it that have not done this. I trust that God will deliver us from the need to be right. One of the first theological books I read was a conversation called Essentials by John Stott and David Edwards. The world may have changed, but we still have much to learn from their respectful and courteous exchanges.

What has prompted me to change my mind?

Watching people. Quietly observing. Listening. And being forced to make a decision.

What would it be like to welcome a same sex couple into my churches and work alongside someone in a gay relationship?

Would it still be welcoming to say you can do this, but not that? I realise that there are times when this is done - and rightly so given a particular constellation of issues. Could I say to someone who undoubtedly God is using that because of their sleeping arrangements and covenant relationship that they have entered into that they were welcome to attend, give money, witness and invite their friends; but not be in leadership. What is leadership in this context? What type of things would that person be excluded from? Yet, at the same time, I am all too aware of my weaknesses and those things that should exclude me too. We allow gossip to run rife without checking it, for example.

Did it actually wash to say, 'I am not against people who are gay' and then act in a way where it would all too easily be perceived that I am? Was I at times making even same sex attraction the unforgivable sin? For me, yes that was the case. This is not the case for other people. But it was for me, and I have lost contact with some for doing so.

The question that will be put to me is what about the Scriptures? Are you going to ignore the texts which seem to condemn homosexual relationships? I hope not. I trust that I will never ignore the scriptures. I find it difficult to just coin the phrase #loveisall. It can so easily come to mean that Love is God, when God is love, yet also justice, compassion, mercy, judge and someone before whom we cannot stand. I resisted the conclusion of Richard Hays book The Moral Vision of the New Testament where he asserts that love is the primary lens through which to interpret the Scriptures, and I would not find it to be appropriate in this instance. It is a fundamental mistake to think that one lens interprets Scripture just because it is convenient for an argument we would wish to make. Scripture should be interpreted by the cacophony of salvation history (God's interaction with us) which culminated in the Christ event.

So, I would not ignore Scripture or seek to reinterpret it to fit a particular tradition: there is no honesty in that. I am reminded of a lecture at the Queen's Foundation, where I trained for ordained ministry, where the then Dean of Birmingham, Gordon Mursell. I believe he went on to become Bishop of Stafford. The Dean spoke of reading Scripture and sometimes acknowledging that the bridge between the world of the writer and our world is simply so different that a clash of worlds take place. I embrace the uncomfortability of scripture on the texts that speak about human sexuality and allow God to meet me in the collision between my world and the world of writer(s). The uncomfortable place could be the wrong place, but could also be the holy place.

The fact that Fred loves Ben, or Mabel loves Sarah (these are names I have plucked out of the air) does not in essence seal any argument. Fred loving Ben might produce good fruit in the same way as say Steve loving Lesley. If we believe human beings are fashioned in the image of God, we would expect human love to reflect something of God's glory, marred though we are as human beings.

Now of course Steve loving Lesley allows for procreation in the way Mabel loving Sarah does not, and yet if that is the sole purpose of a covenant relationship (marriage), then my marriage given that it is an infertile one has to be regarded as somehow deficient. That is the stark reality of that argument, one which the order of service for marriage has softened over time because of the changing cultural context of our liturgies and our understandings about God and humanity.

Individual texts need to be read in the overall context of the story of God and his people, and the loving relationship that we are called into. Some of the texts used do seem to be talking about a level of promiscuity that Christians of whatever sexuality would feel a betrayal of the life that God has called us to lead.

At the end of day, I long to see the church as a space where all are welcomed, without fear or favour, where our common life is celebrated and indeed challenged.

I have not suddenly become an advocate for Gay rights. I actually do not think same sex marriage is a particular aim that I would lay down my life for. I have though seen Christ in my brothers and sisters and pressed pause button, and asked once again the question Gamaliel asked so long ago concerning the witness of the apostles; perhaps this movement we see is of God... and if not it will fade, and I will be left with egg all over my face. Whatever happens we must have space where all people can be welcomed without fear regardless of who they are and how God made them.

I am still as passionate about evangelism, discipleship, church growth and the scriptures. God is still on God's throne :-)