This Is A Man's World?

On my first full day of parish Curacy, a rather formidable older member of the congregation looked me in the eye and said "I don't have a problem with you now. I will this time next year."

I shuffled on her sofa in my brand new clerical shirt. I had known in advance what to expect from this lady - the one member of the congregation who vehemently opposed women's ordination. That was the reason I'd decided to visit her on my first morning, to get off on the right foot. But I was caught off guard by the artful placement of the most recent magazine from the traditionalist organization within the Church of England which supports those who don't accept women Priests, between us on the coffee table.

She herself was a strong female leader. She'd had a long career as a manager in an industrial setting. In that first, honest conversation, she made it clear that although she had no problem with me being a Deacon (most CofE Priests are ordained Deacon for their first year), and she had no problem with me preaching or reading the gospel in Church. It was the sacramental function of blessing, absolving, and - most importantly - presiding at communion that she did not believe was a woman's role.

I could have argued. I could have told her that it was painful to know that she didn't agree with my calling. A calling that I'd made a number of sacrifices to follow because I believed in it.

I didn't argue. I resolved to visit her often, and if she could never see me as a Priest, at least she might see me as a pastor and a friend.

Views around women in ministry are complex, and I don't pretend to understand the nuances. There is the traditionalist view - the official view of the Roman Catholic Church (although not all its members) and some of a Catholic tradition in the Church of England, such as this lady. That's the view that the sacramental role of Priest is especially given to men, as evidenced by Jesus' calling male disciples, and the ordaining of Bishops and Priests by the laying on of hands, from St Peter to the present day. Then there is the Biblical-literalist view, with its oft-quoted verse 1 Timothy 2:12 "But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over a man, but to be in silence." I've had this verse quoted at me a number of times, including by students.

These traditions are far more complex than this, of course. But that's my understanding of them in a paragraph. It's also important to note that, while some people accept these views without questioning them because the Church they go to have told them they are true, very many more people of these traditions have prayed about them and wrestled with them, but stuck with them.

There are plenty of arguments that one might make against both views. You could argue that Jesus called plenty of women and gave them a voice. You could argue that Paul's letter to Timothy was written to a particular church in a particular context at a particular time, and it is a leap to take this sentence as a universal truth, especially when we know Paul was, at the same time, giving positions of authority to women like Phoebe, Priscilla and Junia.

But... should we be arguing in this way?

I'm writing about this today because Anglican Twitter has yet again erupted over the consecration of two Bishops in the Diocese of Chichester. One, a woman. The other, a man with traditionalist views. Their consecrations are going to be done separately, which has angered many who campaign for women's equality in the Church. Of course, it isn't as simple as it first appears. The Covid-19 crisis has put a number of restrictions on the consecrations and could be to blame as to why a better solution can't be found than two separate services. I don't know. For me, it is a pity the services have to be separate. But it is also a pity that Christians are once again at one another's throats on social media. And it's a pity that these arguments have overshadowed the celebration of finally consecrating a woman Bishop in a Diocese which I am told is not famed for its gender inclusivity.

I think there is a time for arguing and campaigning. Of course there is. We wouldn't have women Priests in the Church of England at all if courageous people hadn't campaigned for it. But as Christians, I think we're called not to sling cheap mud. We are called to model our interactions on the Trinity. To listen and properly understand someone's point of view, expecting the same love and friendship back.

Is that painful? Of course it is. But it's the best, kindest and sometimes the quickest way to move forward.

I visited that lady in my congregation regularly. We got to know one another. When I was ordained Priest, true to form, she found it very difficult. She made this clear to me. She sat in her designated pew and did not come up for communion whenever I presided for 10 months. I felt awkward. The congregation felt awkward.

And then. Just before Easter, she summoned me to her house. She had been praying for many months. She had decided she was ready to take communion from me. She asked for a Priestly blessing then and there. I held myself together until I got to the car.

I do not think we would have got to that point if I'd argued at her. She knew all the arguments in greater detail than I did. What she needed was to be listened to and loved. She has died now, which is why I feel able to write about it. And I think I have no better example than hers of someone genuinely and faithfully trying to do what is right, but having the humility to concede that theirs might not be the only view. I hope I have that much humility when I'm in my 90s.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that campaigning loudly is a good thing, on a local and national level. Especially when it comes to issues of inclusivity, we in the Church must be prepared to say what we think. Not just on the issue of women's ordination, but on all those other issues of inclusivity, we have a responsibility to people who have historically been excluded, and who continue to feel deeply hurt by the Church.

But we must be prepared to follow it up with a conversation. To look into the eyes of someone we don't agree with, to try to understand how they came to that viewpoint and to try our best to show Christ's love. For some this will be impossible - for individuals in historically-excluded groups who feel vulnerable, it should not have to be their responsibility to start that painful conversation. The rest of us need to step up and speak. But speak in love with the expectation of a real, mutual conversation. Knowing it might be a long road.