Resuming normal service?

I haven't blogged much for quite a while, and even my blipping has taken a back seat for a few weeks (www.blipfoto.com). A mix of referendum intensity, personal busyness and just the sheer volume of 'stuff' can get in the way of public reflection (my excuses anyway). But I am sat on the platform of Oxford railway station about to travel back to a post-referendum Scotland after four days of retreat (counting the journey, which I do), so I feel sufficiently recharged to begin again. It's also not entirely not to do with the row I got from a wonderful former colleague for having gone quite so quiet.  So the midges need to start dancing again.

Some reflections on the referendum will follow, although there is much intensity of emotion and close watching of responses that need handled with care. And my personal journey through ministry, and its place in the Scottish Episcopal Church and other structures may benefit from some 'shop window' treatment again. 

So here we go again!

Pitlochry, General Synod and the way forward...

There have been many posts and memes running on the General Synod of the Scottish Episcopal Church (although granted the audience for these has been largely limited to the rarified atmosphere of the SEC, I suspect), and I feel the urge to add a little.  I commented last on the Synod overall, from which I came back more positive than I have from previous episodes.  Many of my fellow delegates have come back feeling angry and unrepresented and manipulated, it would seem...

The issue that is vexing most is same-sex (or equal, or gay) marriage, and how to respond as a church. It is not legal, by either the law of the land or by church canons, for an SEC priest to solemnise a marriage between partners of the same gender.  In September this will change in Scotland, and civil marriages will be open to same gender partners.  Religious bodies may opt in to this, but the default position is to be opted out.  

The SEC needs to respond - we are, generically, a liberal and progressive church on such matters. An exercise was held in late April in Pitlochry where invited reps from the dioceses attended and discussed, under well facilitated conditions, a series of discussions on church attitudes to same sex relationships.  Some who were there, and many who were not, reject this exercise as achieving nothing, that it has all been done before.  Some who there (and some who were not) are violently against the church getting involved in equal marriage. Most people felt that something needs to be done.

So to Synod.  There was scheduled to be a presentation on Pitlochry. There was also a motion raised from the floor to try and start the synodical process to change canons to allow equal marriage to be one legal in SEC congregations.  The motion failed to get a majority to let a debate take place.  The Pitlochry presentation took place and received a post-synod social media mauling.  The Primus stood and said things would now start to happen, discussions started with some of the parties involved, options to be brought to Synod next year.  

Where am I on all this? I went to Pitlochry, and found it a superb exercise in managing behaviour in a respectful and listening fashion.  I seconded the motion to start the canonical process, but do not mind in the slightest that it failed: a majority supported it, and it showed a will in the church to start to move onto a decision.  To marry the behaviours that Pitlochry modelled with the purpose and process of formal church debate seems to be the only credible, respectful, rational way forward. The Primus responded, and I believe things will now, at a suitable pace, move on.

I am sad that many self-confessed activists are using aggressive and exclusive language in their response to what is now going on.  I cannot begin to understand what it must feel like to be excluded and discriminated against (I am a white, middle class, Oxbridge educated man, so am about as non-discriminated against as it's possible to be) but change is now in the air. A process is starting, which will involve some painful discussions and a need to remain as opening and listening as possible, but which I believe will end with equal marriage becoming part of the life of the SEC.  Some heat needs to be drawn out of the angry exchanges that are still being made, some respect for the position of others, some serious listening about what ALL parties can actually live with.

My plea is for calm and peace, but also strength and purpose. Things are moving, times are changing. The pace may be frustrating for some, but that is always the way (says he, from his position of non-discriminated-against) - but we are getting close. Peace, grace and respect are what are now needed.

General Synod 2014

I start to tap this out on my second train back to the west from Edinburgh, after two-and-a-half days of the General Synod of our Scottish Episcopal Church.  It was my fourth synod, a very small number compared to many, but one starts to get the feel for the shape of the business.

What happened? There was a lot of normal business, of tweaking calendars, of approving budgets ("we must be prudent facing challenging times ahead") and receiving reports. Discussing matters that may or may not make much difference to the life of the church.  There were also a few points of profound engagement and emotional intensity.  Some issues get certain people het up: social justice, outreach, attitudes to risk taking, buildings, statistics. But there were also some massive, massive items.

The theological training institute for Scotland is being completely overhauled.  This is a risky business, I suspect, in terms of people, of attitudes to those who were in the 'old' version and of the money that is needed to create a generation of priests, deacons and lay people (I don't think bishops are produced by this method, hmm) that will be effective, resilient and the leaders for the next few decades. Big stuff.

And there was the issue of equal marriage and the church's attitude, formal and informal, to those of us who are not heterosexual. But that needs a separate post, which will follow.

I come away from this synod in a better frame of mind than I have from any previously. Which is good. I really do believe that there is hope for the SEC!

Midgies...

Joining in the dance...

21st century church...

In a few weeks' time delegates will assemble in Edinburgh for the 2014 General Synod of the Scottish Episcopal Church.  For our denomination, this country's Anglicans, this is a very important few days, as this is the occasion when the business of the church, everything from worship to mission to social action to laws, this business is reviewed, debated, and changes are made (or otherwise).  This is an expensive business, as folk travel from the far flung reaches of our diocese, and a great deal of many people's time is committed..

Reading the papers, I note that this year we are invited to debate moving the day that commemorates John Mason Neale by two days, from 9th August to 7th August. This is a more accurate day for J M Neale, who died on the 6th August 1866, but as this is the feast of the transfiguration, the 7th is usually observed in other provinces. The opportunity to do this arises from the decision at the General Synod in 2013 to move St Boisil's day from 7th August to the 7th July, a date that suits his local area around Melrose better, as they observe this medieval tradition anyway.

We live in times of great social change, of crises of national identity, of revolutions in legal and social ideas about families and relationships and the essence of humanity. We are also part of a church under pressure, a church that is declining in numbers and finance, a church that strives to be relevant in a world that seems increasing disinterested..

We may discuss some of that too.

I hope.

Here's another picture of a nice sunny day on Bute.

Why here?

This seems a good reason for starters...

Aware of our context?

This is an 1830s engraving of a shipwreck off the coast at Dunoon. The sailors are clinging to the marker on the rocks, the same rocks that have destroyed their ship, presumably running for shelter in one of the bays of Dunoon.  The wind direction looks a slightly unusual easterly, given the prevailing winds here are generally westerly of some nature.  The storm is really getting up, with a sharp stab of lightning cracking down on the hills above Dunoon.

So what?

I saw this print (in an original printed form) in the house of the lady who lives in the white house you can just see to the right of the sailor-festooned rocks.  Her house pre-dates the row of hotels and houses that grew along the West Bay in the later Victorian times.  Her house also pre-dates the church that I am part of in Dunoon: in fact the crack of lightning is hitting just about where Holy Trinity was built, some twenty years after the print was made.  I don't think one should read too much into that - if it was dated 1850 (the website I bought the image from lists it as 1830) - it could be seen as a presbyterian critique of the permission given for a Scottish Episcopalian building in the burgh. But no, it's just a rather romanticized vision of a late 18th century shipping disaster, a not unusual happening at that time, I suspect. The lady with the print is rather delighted with the historical rooting of her house. She is also the head of the local heritage society, and was vetting me before allowing me to address the same society.

The context that hit me hardest from this print is the rocks.  They are the Gantocks, a set of rocks visible at low tide, just off the pier in Dunoon.  At high tide their beacon is always visible, normally capped by a seagull or two, or a cormorant drying its wings.  The Gantocks are always there.  They are there in the image that heads this blog, a photo taken a few months before I had even arrived in Cowal, and when there was still some uncertainty as to whether I would come or not.  The idea of the Gantocks as a thing of danger are still there, I suppose. The MV Akka sank on them in 1956.  The paddle steamer Waverley almost ended her career on them in 1977.  A lump of rock in a shipping lane is always something that matters.  But living here, you become unconscious of them.  Occasionally the light makes them stand out, or as you drive past the (shut) McColls hotel they jump out, shouting, "very low tide!"  But mainly they are just there, as they always have been, and as they always will be.  

Context is where we minister, where we live. Sometimes we are aware of it. Sometimes we learn the stories of its past. But it is always there. Everything is context.