Sheep's clothing

I have lived in the diocese of Chichester for nearly 35 years. For far too much of that time I have watched with increasing distress the gradual revelation of the cycle of crime and cover up in the abuse scandal that has persistently bedevilled the diocese. This diocese believes in the warmth and comfort of the gospels. This diocese painted itself as a place of refuge for religious souls cast adrift by the sea of change in the modern world. And for more than a generation this diocese has responded to the needs of the souls in its care with brutal corruption.

The abuse and the cover up have been well documented for some years now, but often in a haphazard way. During March the Independent Inquiry on Child Sexual Abuse (IICSA) focussed on Chichester as one of its case studies, and pulled all the evidence together in one place. The transcripts of the fifteen days of hearings, and the dozens of documents which back them up, make for harrowing reading.

The events of both the abuses and the cover up were quite effectively summarised by Andreas Whittam Smith in the Independent on March 25^th. He portrays the various abusers, and outlines the failure of attempts to improve safeguarding, the actions of various protectors of the perpetrators and the culture within which they were allowed not just to survive but to flourish. He calls it “normalising”. In the latter part of the article he focuses on Peter Ball, and he ends with the words of the current bishop, Martin Warner.

The evidence given to the IICSA makes clear that, despite the charging and sentencing of (some of?) the perpetrators, the diocese is still in immense difficulties. There will no doubt be continuing attempts to assert that the slate has been wiped clean. There will still be some who belittle or disbelieve the brutality that has been practised. There are still some who allow themselves to be duped by the obvious niceness of Bishop Peter among others. There are many who will know that they should have taken action. And there will be many who do not know how to conduct themselves to ensure that safeguarding is done properly in the future. The slate is not clean because there is still so much to do.

Responsibility falls at two levels, the perpetrators and those around them. The perpetrators that we know of are rightly being punished and must make their own amends. For some of those around them, who actively ignored guilt and encouraged the continuing commission of brutal crimes, perhaps punishment is appropriate too. I make no apology for using the word “brutal” despite litte evidence of violence in the crimes committed. Brutality can be practised in a caress. The fact that it is done with a velvet glove makes it no less violent, no less domineering, no less brutal. The diocese has to face up to that reality, that it was covering up not just a minor sin but a series of deplorable crimes.

And there is a particular problem for Chichester diocese that requires a particular depth of soul searching. This evidence to the IICSA (near the end of page 2) makes an uncomfortable connection between the perpetration of these offences and opposition to the ordination of women. It does not have to be that way, but there must be a different construction, a different way of thinking and a different way of being if the diocese is to get back to fulfilling its Christian mission.

I paused, as Andreas Whittam Smith obviously did, at Martin Warner’s final words to the inquiry. (Here, pages 93-94)

“While apologies can begin to sound formulaic, I do want to register my sorrow and apology for the sexual abuse of children that has taken place in the diocese of Chichester, and for the ways in which it has been mishandled in the past.

“This comes from the bottom of my heart as a human being, but also more formally from me as the bishop of this diocese. I also grieve for the loss of access to faith that this has often resulted in: a terrible realisation, and it is that which has sustained my efforts in ensuring that the diocese of Chichester reforms.”

The words that made me pause were the last sentence. The bishop says he is primarily motivated by the loss of access to faith suffered by the victims. In my view this is far too narrow a focus. Faith has an inestimable position in the minds of Christians. But a misguided emphasis on the primacy of faith is part of what led to Chichester falling into this pit in the first place. Abuse damages the bodies and minds as well as the souls of the victims. Souls may be mended in the afterlife, but bodies and minds can only be cared for on this earth. If the victims of these abuses get to the end of their lives, and we have not healed their souls, then healing awaits them in the life beyond. If they get to the end of their lives and we have not at least attempted to heal their bodies and minds, then we have failed. Reparation must apply to the scars carried by body and mind, or it is meaningless. And efforts at reform must focus on producing a church that heals and nurtures bodies and minds as well as souls. Without an emphasis on the current physical reality of the victims and their lives, any repentance and reform will be meaningless. Until there is widespread recognition of the brutality done to bodies and minds as well as souls, that was permitted and protected by the diocese, there will be no moving forward and no peace, however much people think there is.

Church of England demonstrates how not to do statistics

While I'm complaining about my church - see post below - I do take exception to the church behaving like the BBC or the Daily Telegraph when it comes to writing a story*. This headline Four out of five believe in the power of prayer has nothing to do with the story. The question that was asked, on which the responses were based, was "Irrespective of whether you currently pray or not, if you were to pray for something at the moment, what would it be for?"  That little word "if" is a dead giveaway. The press release has been taken apart by Thinking Anglicans (there are some) among others. I am merely adding my two pennyworth for the delectation of my sociology students, who I am always trying to teach how to use statistics wisely.

*I was compiling a list of articles where the headline did not reflect the truth as outlined in the story. But the list got too long. The BBC and the DT are both serial offenders in this regard, though by no means the only ones.

My church: Chichester found wanting

I have lived in the diocese of Chichester for thirty years. This is my church, my diocese, my patch. I have been uncomfortable here since Chichester became one of the havens for priests who think that the universe will crumble if someone receives communion from a woman. But it is my home, just as the Church of England is my spiritual home. So today's news, "Archbishop of Canterbury condemns child abuse failings", is a cause of sorrow and grief that strikes far too close to home. I feel hurt, I feel bruised, I feel angry. Not nearly as angry as those who suffered the abuse in the first place. But angry that this has been covered up by people acting in my name.

I have known for some time, as we all have, that there was much amiss in the way the diocese handled disciplinary issues with its priests. Much like the Catholic church on a larger scale, the diocese seemed to think that a) buggering boys wasn't that big a deal and b) the reputation of the church was much more important than the lives and souls of the many children abused by priests for whom the diocese was responsible.

Lives have been ruined by priests who pretend to be godly. Those priests have been knowingly, deliberately and persistently protected by others who pretend to be godly. We have even seen an abuser of children ordained as a priest, despite four bishops and an archbishop knowing the truth about him. That was thankfully a long time in the past, but the most horrifying thing is that we cannot be certain even now that such a thing could not happen again. Wallace Benn, the current bishop of Lewes, was recently criticised for sitting on a CRB check that revealed data he did not want to have to act on. The complaint had to come from his own diocesan safeguarding group. The most horrifying section of the BBC report, to my mind, is this: “The inquiry by the Archbishop of Canterbury's office said "fresh and disturbing" aspects of the way abuse claims were handled keep surfacing.” They keep surfacing – this suggests that, not just bishop Wallace, but people all over the diocesan hierarchy still have not told the truth about what they know, and are still not prepared to act to prevent further abuse.

Where is the Christianity in this? Where is the principle, the godliness?  In my view – nowhere. The most charitable explanation involves the idea that it was a slippery slope, that one minor action led to another minor action, and that it all escalated to a point that nobody ever meant it to. It probably involves ideas about naïve forgiveness, thinking that someone may have been bad in the past, but that he'll be better now, won't he. It's also probably tied up with the fact that Chichester has been designated as a refuge for those in the church who just can't deal with women, and it has therefore collected more than a few. What we have in the diocese now is a toxic pile of people who are unable to deal with sexuality and power in any way other than patriarchal misogyny. What that often hides, and does in this case, is a persistence of sinfulness that the ungodly can only dream about.

Sin is very often not major, not transcendent. It is in the minor actions, the scores of cheap decisions we make that gradually weave a web around us. But that is precisely why every decision matters, every single small step takes us either towards evil or towards good. And the people who hold office and are trained and practised (allegedly) in the ways of Jesus – our bishops, priests,  synod members, and so on -  ought to know better than to allow things to slip, because, slip by slip, sin becomes monstrous. Everybody who has been involved in the continuing and deliberate protection of the abusers is part of a nest of vipers that needs to be cleansed. That means everyone who ever made any kind of positive decision to keep things quiet for the good of the church, and thus denied truth and justice to all the abused. If that includes any of the current incumbents, so be it. I hope that this clear and pointed report will be followed by equally pointed action. I know that as a Christian I am supposed to forgive. But forgiveness has to be sought, and it seems clear that those involved still do not seek forgiveness. And in any case, forgiveness does not involve leaving people in a position to commit the same follies again.

My final thought is this. Many, many people have criticised Rowan Williams for being too wishy washy, not showing enough leadership as archbishop. I have not agreed with that, and this scandal is a very good example of why. I cannot think of any archbishop in my lifetime who would have been willing to issue such an uncompromising report. I will be sorry to see him go when he steps down as archbishop. I will be much less sorry to see the back of every single so called Christian in this diocese who has had anything to do with this monumental scandal.

Not such a great story for Easter Day

For some time now I have felt very sorry for my various Catholic friends at the way they have been let down by the hierarchy of the Catholic church over the issue of child abuse. It's not the fact of abuse, it's the way the church has reacted, and continues to react. They continue to keep secrets and to say anything they can that will get them off the hook without them recognising that things really have to change.

They reached the pits, I think, with the Pope's preacher saying that the abuse the Pope had received over this was akin to the collective violence suffered by the Jews. He obviously doesn't do much arguing, or he would know that the first rule of arguments is that whoever compares the other side to Nazis has by definition lost the argument. But, that aside, it indicates just how far the hierarchy of the Catholic church has strayed from the message of Christ.

I am myself a staunch Anglican, and yesterday I was happy for a few hours when I read of Rowan Williams' words to the Catholics. He said the church in Ireland "has lost "all credibility" because of its poor handling of the scandal of paedophile priests [and] the child sex abuse scandal that has engulfed the Catholic church had been a "colossal trauma" for Ireland in particular."

I thought briefly maybe we have the best archbishop I have known in my lifetime, one who is prepared to speak the truth in love. He was prepared to say to his peers in the Catholic church that they need to travel miles and they have hardly been prepared to budge an inch. And heaven knows they're not listening to anybody else. Every step they have taken has been forced out of them by public opinion.

And then he went and apologised. And blew all that good work out of the window. And the Catholic church hierarchy go on in the same old way. They are not going to be "swayed by 'petty gossip' about child sex-abuse allegations". Only a Catholic cardinal could call well founded questions about the role the Pope himself played in covering up these scandals "petty gossip".

And the good old Anglican church is back to faith, hope and niceness, and the greatest of these is niceness. Jesus must be weeping.

The church and legs

Just a follow on from my last post. I think one of the unattractive things about church is that you have to sit and be still. I equally dislike going to the theatre,  concerts (classical - rock is fine), and lectures. I discovered restless leg syndrome  a few years ago. I have an attenuated form of the condition, so attenuated that I never realised there was a condition or a name for it until I heard about it on a radio programme. Now most children (most? many at least) squirm through the functions their parents take them  to, but I don't know if other children experienced the physical torture I got in my knees when trapped in a concert seat or a pew. Although that as such rarely happens to me nowadays, I think the memory is hard wired in. Cinema's fine - I can sprawl. Rock concerts, football matches, obviously, fine. But places where I have.to. sit. still. aaargh.

Which brought me when I was thinking about it on to another historical thing to look up. When did the tradition come in that we have to sit still and silent in order to listen to music?I'm aware that in courts of roughly renaissance times they used to walk about and talk all through the performance, at least the king did. What is it about being modern and civilised which means that we have to be still when the body's natural instinct is to move to the rhythm? I heard from someone that most languages don't have separate words for "sing" and "dance" because they're the same thing. I have no idea whether it's actually true, but it does seem to me maybe another facet of the Enlightenment separation of body and mind that we had to start "appreciating" music without responding to it physically. Maybe it's a way of separating the upper classes who have the discipline to do it, from the rude mechanical lower classes, who still have to jig around when they feel a rhythm. I'm obviously lower class then. And proud of it :-)

Blogging on a Sunday morning

I've just been reading some stuff about sacred and secular, which I won't go into now because it was dead complicated, but I was sitting in bed in the morning as I do with two cups of tea, a very civilised way to start the day - two cups of tea and a good book. I don't really start to function till about 10 in the morning. The book in question is Jane Jacobs Edge of Empire, about the geography of postcolonialism and the city, told you it was complicated.

But what started me thinking, or daydreaming if you prefer, was the fact that it was Sunday morning. I am a Christian, but I don't go to church. At least I only go to preach. It's a very contradictory place to be, I know, but it's where I've arrived. I just don't find God in church. Many other places, but not church. I don't know why, partly personal history, the experience of an undying kind of hypocrisy in the churches I went to perforce as a child. Or maybe it's something God has done. A monk once said to me "God has chosen a dark path for you", which is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, although when I have told this to people in the past, most of them have said, "How horrible".

The bit about preaching is that I do go to churches in order to speak for Christian Aid. I do once a year at Ringmer in an annual effort to drum up more collectors, and, because the local office know I have the gift of the gab, they sometimes ask me to go to other places. It's good fun.

So Sunday morning tends to be a time  of rest, but not in church. The only churchy thing that intrudes is the noise pollution from Ringmer's church bells chaotically and atonally summoning the faithful to service.

We spent a few days on holiday at Whitchurch Canonicorum this year where the church bells ring on the hour every hour day and night. We were in "Church Cottage" so you get the picture. I'm sure that the locals would have defended their church clock to the death (I would happily have accommodated them...) on the grounds that it was traditional. 
They probably have a happy picture of a monk in 500 AD tolling Vespers on a bit of rope. But it occurred to me that chiming on the hour must be 
an industrial invention. They didn't need it for medieval workers. 
They needed to know when church was on, and maybe when mealtimes were, 
but they had no use for the hour. So it can't be *that* traditional. I wonder when it actually came  in. Must look it up somewhere.