Synod's choice

I'm trying to summon up enough enthusiasm to write about last weekend's Church of England synod and what their decisions about ordaining women as bishops mean.  But in a way everything seems to have been said.  The synod have probably made the best of a not terribly good job, and decided to risk offending traditionalists so much that they leave the C of E, in return for giving women bishops, when they finally appear, the same status as men.

Of course it will be very sad if this decision causes people to leave the church.  Jesus taught us to pray for unity among Christians, and it's hard to be unified- or even to pray for unity- when you are caught up in a bitter struggle the meaning of Biblical texts.  Perhaps, some say, we should compromise for the sake of unity- that both sides should compromise as far as they can, out of love for each other and for God, out of grace, to prevent a damaging split.  That, if I am correct, is what the amendment proposed by the archbishops of Canterbury and York was an attempt to do, an attempt to salve the consciences of those who feel they cannot submit to a woman's authority; so that while those in favour would accept that another, male, bishop would care for the traditionalists, the traditionalists would recognise the validity of women bishops in principal.

But there are other considerations.  It has been said, with much truth, that the church exists for the benefit of non-members (admittedly it often doesn't seem like that's the case!).  Obviously a an organisation that is constantly arguing with itself isn't showing a very good image to outsiders.  But then neither is an organisation that, from most outsiders and indeed most insiders' point of view, is still practicing sexism. 

Obviously I'm not saying that the church (any church, not just the C of E) should just give in to society's pressures and accept society's values.  That would leave us with no integrity.  But if we want the church to be an active, outward looking community, we need to show that every member is valued.  That means weighing up the choice of offending some of your membership, or looking increasingly old fashioned, irrelevant and unpalatable to those outside (and a large number within).  It's not a choice to make lightly, or without much prayer, and I think synod have been thinking and praying about this for a long time.  No one should be going into that kind of debate wanting to cause trouble or make things nasty, any sort of split should cause sorrow on both sides.  But perhaps to agree to disagree, and not to rule out the possibility of working together in the future, is a better solution than to continue to argue, which can be more divisive.

Of course, probably a better option is to accept, gracefully, the arrangements that the synod has agreed on. But given that the media much prefer a story about disagreement than about acceptance and co-operation, I doubt we'll hear so much about the parishes and people who do just that.  The church (perhaps because as a friend of mine said; "the more liberal people are, the more likely they are to feel the opposition should have a say, and less likely to make absolutist remarks.") isn't great at presenting the positive story.  But I look forward to when the first women bishops are ordained, and hope that it will be celebrated as the milestone it deserves to be.

Looking outward

It's my opinion that as Christians we should be looking out more than we look in.  We have to connect with the world around us- the world of people outside the Church, who don't share our beliefs.  So I've always tried to make sure I don't get so caught up in church stuff that I loose all meaningful contact with those outside the church.  At the moment I'm fortunate enough to have some great friends, most of whom don't share my beliefs.  But sometimes I struggle because the assurances I have about my Christian friends just aren't there for my friends who aren't Christians.

This is something that's struck me over the last few days through WordLive readings.  Today's was about grieving.  For a Christian who believes that death is not the end, illness and death, though still unpleasant because of the pain and sense of loss, aren't quite as fearful as they could be.  There is hope beyond death.  And so, the notes say, we should grieve differently, because we are comforted by this hope.

All that is true.  But what if the person we're grieving for- a friend or family member- doesn't know God?  In a way that makes it even harder for a Christian to grieve, makes it something to be feared all the more.  Christianity is certainly not a soft option in that circumstance.

This is a problem I keep coming across when I'm praying for my friends.  Praying for myself, I know about all the promises that God will care for his people, will answer their prayers, that we shouldn't worry because he will provide what we need.  And I know- although sometimes I forget- that this is true, that whenever I have really been struggling either through lack of money, worries about housing, or not having a job, or when I've been feeling really down and hopeless, lonely and worthless- God has provided for me.  Maybe he's not given me what I want- the perfect job/ sufficient money not to have to be careful/ complete freedom from feeling rubbish, but he has given me what I need- enough money, somewhere to live, friends to sympathise and cheer me up.

But when I see my friends in need- through illness, or unemployment, or stress- I don't have those assurances.  When I pray for myself, I know that however much I struggle, in the end things will have worked out according to God's plan.  The journey may be hard, but I know I will reach the destination in the end.  There will be a good ending.  But with my friends I don't know that this will happen- that everything will be all right in the end.  I know God loves them- but since they don't care about him, do promises like Matthew 6 vs 25-34 -"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" -apply to them?  They are promises given to God's children.  And will they allow God to help them, or reject what he might want to do to help them out of a desire for independence?  

That doesn't stop me praying for them, though.  Because there's also the promise that God answers prayer, not in the way I always want or expect, but in his much better way, seen from his perspective outside space and time.  Perhaps I should be sure that God will answer my prayers to help my friends.  I know that he has their- as well as my- best interests at heart.  Perhaps what I want isn't the best or right thing for them- perhaps what God does or doesn't do to help them would be better.  I don't know.  But I trust that God does.  

And yet I often spend more time worrying about my friends' well being than about my own.  Perhaps that's taking looking outward to the extreme.  And yet perhaps that's better than not caring.

Advent 09- Quiet

At the moment I'm feeling rather miserable- full of cold and a sore throat for the umpteenth time in a couple of months.  So it's tricky to be positive.  But here goes anyway.

Last night I was at church for our 'Contemporary carols' service.  Owing to some anxiety about the state of the paths under all the frozen slush and snow* I left early so didn't stay for the whole thing.  But it reminded me about something which I have been missing in services lately, and the service I generally go to gets louder and more action-filled.**

Sometimes it's good to have time and space to just be quiet and focus on God.  In my first year at uni I went to a thing called Night Prayer where there would be large spaces for silent personal reflection on what was going on in your life, or on the readings and music which were interspersed in the service.  I found it restful and a nice change from the constant buzz of student life.  Sadly once I moved off campus I stopped going.  I've been to similar events since, notably Transcendence, which includes something of the same space for personal quiet reflection.

The difference between space for personal quiet in an event like this and just trying to do the same thing by yourself at home is that it's easier to be quiet and 'in the mood' for prayer and reflection if you're not distracted  by everything that's going on around you at home, and if other people around you are doing the same.  That said, I rather dislike most typical prayer meetings, where I have to worry about what I'm saying, unplanned, out loud.  I end up thinking more about what words I'm using than about what I'm praying, focusing on myself or others more than God.  But I'm not great at extended times of praying alone either- my thoughts and attention tend to wander.  So I most often pray in short burst, as the need or desire strikes me.  But I know it's healthy to have longer, more focused times of prayer too.

Which is why I like it when there's time to do this in a service.  Not too long, or people start to fidget and wonder what's happening, but perhaps we're too afraid of leaving blank space, of people getting bored, and in a desire to fill everything with music and words we can be in danger of drowning out the 'still small voice' in which God speaks- we can be so busy talking we forget to listen.

Be still, for the power of the Lord is moving in this place,

He comes to cleanse and heal, to minister his grace,

No work too hard for him, in faith recieve from him,

Be still for the power of the Lord is moving in this place.

*When I said I liked snow, I didn't include frozen slush, which is unpleasant to walk on and not a Good Thing.  Neither is slippery ice.  But I still love the wonder and specialness of snow- even when it's causing me issues getting to my parents' for Christmas.
**Not that this is necessarily a bad thing.