I suspect that many or perhaps most of us have been to meetings where an awful lot of time is spent discussing ‘stuff’ before, eventually, the time comes to discuss the interesting (perhaps even contentious) items on the agenda. General Synod was a bit like this! We seemed to spend hours discussing the timetable for future meetings; hours that we will never get back!

Eventually we did get round to discussing homelessness, progress on Living in Love and Faith, the appalling consequences of addiction to gambling, the Crown Nomination Committee’s internal processes, the state of the nation, (oh yes, and, deanery synod length of service!) and, the synod’s focal topic, Mission and Evangelism.

Synod agreed that evangelism is a priority and that mission and evangelism on estates must be a particular priority (thank you Bishop Philip North). Synod also affirmed the absolute importance of youth evangelism. So far so good, mission and evangelism amongst the young and on the estates is indeed very good, but………

But, the overall tenor of debate felt a bit thin. It felt as though we all know and understand what we mean when we speak of mission and evangelism and that we are all working off a common template. From this ‘catholic’ participant-observer’s perspective the substance of the materials provided require an awful lot of ‘thickening out.’

I was privileged to be called to give my maiden speech in the evangelism debate. Mission and evangelism are close to my heart. I teach mission and evangelism to ordinands and readers in training and I passionately believe that the world needs ‘more and better Christians’ (++Temple) or ‘a bigger church making a bigger difference,’ (+ Paul Bayes). Our benefice collect includes the plea that ‘we may grow in number and in holiness.’  

I believe in conversion and desire to play my role in bringing people to a place of conversion. I am happy to accept that conversion may be an event or the fruit of a process, but would want to argue, in Benedictine terms, that ‘conversion of life,’ is the real witness to the work of the Spirit within individuals and crucially communities. I also argued in my speech that although conversion is central to mission and evangelism, mission and evangelism are not reducible to conversion: ‘The Church’s approach needs to include conversion at its core, but not to be reducible to conversion.’

The road we seem to be going down is a little thin – theologically and ecclesiologically –  because it feels a little individualistic, a little too protestant for a church which self-defines as ‘reformed catholic.’ In my speech I suggested that the Church as the Body of Christ, is an observable phenomena. The quality of the Church is therefore of uppermost importance. Ecclesiology in some ways precedes mission and evangelism.  And yes, although it isn’t trendy to say so, we really should be speaking to and amongst ourselves as a vital part of the ‘one Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.’ Any claims to be an authentically evangelical church must start with self-reflection guided by the Spirit.

Evangelism isn’t a thing, or a technique, but the outworking of the Spirit. Evangelism must be rooted in prayer, not just informal prayer but also the formal prayers of the Church (hence the relationship between liturgy and evangelism) and, routed from prayer. What we pray day-by-day is as important in evangelical terms as what we do day-by-day. Prayer is the activity that shapes both who we are and what we do. Prayer is in some ways God focused self-talk.

Our internal questions are important questions, they are the qualitative questions. They are also prophetic questions.  As Anglicans the choices that we make, the attitudes we hold, and the liturgies we offer must, necessarily, underpin any missional and evangelistic strategies. Ecclesiology, liturgy and sacraments are our living proofs and validators. Ecclesiology speaks to the quality of our welcome and hospitality, our ‘tone and culture,’ whilst liturgy and sacraments are the living, real and textually enacted animators of doctrine.

In my speech I asked what mission and evangelism might mean ‘in multicultural and multi-faith contexts, or to people who might be “scared and wary” of the Church’s mission.’ I specifically asked  “what does it (mission and evangelism) say to the poor, disabled, gay, not sure, imprisoned, wealthy?’ Put another way ‘what is the vision glorious?’  What is the ‘vision glorious’ for the God-fearing Jew, Hindu, Sikh – for those who are unlikely to succumb to conversion? What is the ‘vision glorious’ for others of good-will? What is the ‘vision glorious’ for those who believe that the Church is just another institution or community likely to reject their very identity? For me these are the ‘thick’ missional and evangelistic questions.

I concluded my speech by saying that the primary goal of mission and evangelism should be the erosion of antipathy, for we need to be clear: most people couldn’t really care less about the church or the message we proclaim. That’s the stark and unbearable reality. The fruit of real and holistic evangelism should be the offer of affirmation, the brokering of rejection (for Jesus was rejected, frequently) and the erosion of antipathy and apathy. Mission and evangelism cannot be separated away from doctrine, ecclesiology and liturgy. My worry is that we – in the Church of England – are seeking to do so, leaving a residue that is just a little to thin.

Our understanding of Mission and Evangelism needs thickening out because ‘the world needs more and better Christians’, or ‘a bigger church making a bigger difference.’ 

Next week General Synod convenes for its first meeting of 2019. For me it will be my first time at General Synod. I am one of the newbies.

I go with a mixture of enthusiasm, hope, and anxiety. Enthusiasm, hope, and anxiety pretty much describe how I feel about the state of the Church of England.

I am enthusiastic and hopeful because of the continuing emphasis on evangelism. As a moderately Catholic Anglican I firmly believe that the Church of England has a duty, no a mandate, to evangelize the people of England. If the Church can’t present the gospel and the story of Jesus Christ as good news – the best of news – then we really are wasting not only our own but everyone’s time.

For me evangelism must be holistic. I don’t think it can be straightforwardly  reduced to conversion (although conversion is, for sure, central to the task of evangelism) so I hope and pray for, ‘a bigger church, that makes a bigger difference’ (Bishop Paul Bayes) and passionately believe that, in Archbishop Temple’s words, the world needs ‘more and better Christians.’  

Society needs, badly needs, a robust and healthy church; one which models a better way of living, relating, caring and believing.

Society needs to witness a church which demonstrably stretches out to those on the margins, daring to care from them and, learn from them. Society, and her political leaders, need (even if they don’t recognise the need) to witness a church that understands the plight of the refugee, a church which constantly asks of itself (and others) the fundamental religious questions, such as ‘who is my neighbour?’ 

Society needs to witness a church that cares deeply about the devastating effects of addiction and economic exploitation. Society needs to witness a body that manifestly esteems young and old alike whilst caring for the created order.

The good news, for this newbie, is that the various synod papers make it abundantly clear that the church is deeply committed to such holistic modes of evangelism.

The Church of England also needs to model, for a bitterly and deeply divided society, that good disagreement is truly possible. Good disagreement, or disagreeing well, is a difficult ask of the church because as a motif it applies solely to the deeply contested areas of church life. And, we all know what these are: sexuality and gender.

I was interested and delighted to read the update paper (GS Misc 1200) on the ‘Living in Love and Faith Project,’ because the possibility of living, and hopefully living well, with disagreement appears to be woven into the very fabric of the text. It is hoped  that ‘church and community,’ will:

‘Have learned different ways of reading scripture together well,’  where this implies ‘resisting over simplification and inviting readers to think for themselves.’  GS Misc 1200 points towards a destination where ‘faithful and fair presentations of the breadth of inherited and emergent views’ will be respected and where these will inform ‘the Church’s theological tradition and pastoral and liturgical practice,’ in the recognition that the Church of England is by its very nature an ‘ecclesiology in the context of difference.’ 

If the Church of England can agree to, and absorb into, its pastoral and liturgical structures such difference the result will be the modelling of something truly remarkable for a broken and bitterly divided nation.

In order to live well together, and to remain united whist acknowledging our deeply held differences, requires all of us to commit to living in ‘love and charity with our neighbour,’ whilst making sure that we ‘do not presume to come to the table trusting in our own righteousness but in his manifold and great mercies.’ 

My anxiety? Well, it’s simply this: that we fail to incorporate good disagreement fully, pastorally, and liturgically, into the life of the church. If we fail to do so we will fail the test set by love and charity having fallen back on our own, perhaps misplaced, sense of righteousness. We will become just another broken and divided institution in a broken and divided world.

Hey ho, hey ho, it’s off to synod we go.

Earlier this week it was suggested to me that in ‘my rush to be inclusive’  I may not have thought through the supposed negative consequences of ‘inclusivity.’

I still don’t know quite how I feel about this observation and am unclear whether the criticism implied that a) I haven’t given much, if any, serious theological thought to transgender (and other) issues, before coming to a conclusion or b) that, although I may have sought to think things through, my thought processes were deeply and structurally flawed.

I suspect that many of us (me included) like to play the ‘you haven’t really thought things through’ card when it appears that events have moved, or are moving, in a direction we find uncomfortable. It’s a fairly easy card to play, and in some ways I am happy to cede the point; I am not as thoughtful as I would like to be. I need to keep reflecting, thinking and praying about inclusivity for inclusivity, or a commitment to inclusivity, is about process, growth and pilgrimage.

The inclusive journey is a pilgrimage whose final destination is affirmation of the beloved other as a sacramental friend. Along the way I hope we / I may learn to jettison the less than fulsome and decidedly unfriendly offers of mere accommodation and luke-warm tolerance from our ruck sacks.

I think that I would also like to suggest that my journey towards whatever level of commitment I now possess to inclusivity has been slow, grinding, sometimes tortured, and forged in the hard reality of everyday family and communal life. It’s been incarnational and there has genuinely been no rush. For me it has been a case of real and diverse people dismantling the bricks and mortar of innate preference, prejudice, unwarranted fear and tribal loyalty.

And yet now I feel a sense of urgency.  I also feel compelled to contradict those who say ‘slow down’ and ‘the timings not quite right,’ for in reality the timing will never be perfectly right. To those who say that to act too quickly is to undermine the unity of the church, I would want to say that justice must always precede peace in unity.

In fact I would go further and say that any peace in unity worth having must always be built on justice; justice for the beloved other, where justice means an open invitation to sit, listen, converse and eat at the same sacramental table, and bathe in the same the same sacramental waters, on equal terms, as friends ‘in Christ.’ 

This Wednesday I was deeply challenged by the lectionary readings for the Eucharist (Hebrews 12, 4-7 & 11-15 and Mark 6, 1-6). In the gospel reading we find and, must allow ourselves to be challenged, by the following words:

‘This is the carpenter, surely, the son of Mary, the brother of James and Joset and Jude and Simon? His sisters, too are they not here with us? And they would not accept him,’ (The Jerusalem Bible – in the NRSV we are told ‘they took offence at him.’)

Jesus was rejected because the good people, the decent people, the morally upright people, found him offensive. That’s the truth of the matter.

But, why did they find him so offensive that they would not, or could not, accept him? Was it just jealously or could there have been other reasons: reasons so shocking that Mark can only hint at them?

Could it have been that Jesus’ family was just a bit too common? Or, is it possible that there may have been something truly different, or other, about James, Joset, Jude, Simon or one of his unnamed sisters?

The answer is we don’t know, but this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t respond to Mark’s narrative with our imaginations. What if Jesus’ commitment to justice and inclusivity was forged through the messy experience of his own family life? It’s a thought and perhaps one worth playing with, as the Magnificat puts it, in the imagination of ‘our hearts.’

The reading from the letter to the Hebrews is no less challenging:

‘Always be wanting peace with all people, and the holiness without which no one can ever see the Lord. Be careful that no one is deprived of the grace of God.’

The notion of peace, shalom (seeing and willing the good in and for the beloved yet intrinsically different  other) is directly equated with holiness and, frighteningly, salvation. Now, that is a sobering thought!

Jesus, the offensive Jesus, was not accepted, in fact he was rejected, whilst the scribe to the Hebrews insists that we, the Christian community, should ‘be careful that no one is deprived of the grace of God.’ In all honesty these are lessons I have been slow to learn, and am still slow in learning, and yet I urgently want to belong to a church which ensures that no one is ‘deprived of the grace of God;’ a church where all are given a place at the same sacramental table, and in the same sacramental waters, on equal terms, as friends.

p.s. I have unashamedly ‘borrowed’ several ideas from Bishop Paul Bayes wonderful new book ‘The Table.’ Paul I hope you don’t mind?