For one reason or another, I’ve been thinking about the idea of reparations for some time over the last year.

I’m one of the chaplains at the University of Glasgow and it made me think a bit when the University started to implement concrete policies in recent times by way of trying to make reparations for actions that were taken long ago in the past. 

Like many institutions in Glasgow, including many of the churches, the University benefited from the slave trade and has embarked on a programme of reparations to acknowledge that its current existence was built on something that was evil. There’s various partnerships with University institutions in the West Indies and attempts to research the history of the local involvement in the trade alongside innovative ways of telling the stories that for so long have gone untold. This means that money is changing hands – the University is aiming to use £20 million of its resources in connection with this. It is about money but it isn’t just about money – it is about relationships too. And it is fundamentally about facing the fact that something very wrong was done.

More recently, whilst I’ve been on sabbatical, I’ve been spending time in the American South. In particular, I’ve been a guest of the Virginia Theological Seminary and again, a reparations programme is underway.

It does focus the mind to be a guest in a place where enslaved people actually built some of the buildings.

Part of the telling of these stories in Virginia has meant researching as much as can be known about these people.

Although this might seem a very long way from Scotland, the stories uncovered by researching the history bring us together. There are personal stories of people who are long dead being owned and exploited by Scots traders. And there are people around who are the descendants of liaisons between such traders and the people whom they owned. Indeed, one such is a seminarian in the place that I’ve been staying and I was much moved to learn that his ancestor came from Port Glasgow.

All of which means that I’ve been thinking about slavery and reparations rather a lot.

For the question of reparations is one that churches ought to have something to say about. If the story of Zacchaeus in the bible means anything, it means that taking steps to make reparations, is part of who we are.

I think that Scotland is very far from coming to terms with its past in this area. Glasgow in particular still has much work to do.

When I was a child I was taught that Glasgow’s fortune was built on tobacco and we were taught as 10 year olds about the riches and wealth of the Tobacco Lords.

And no-one mentioned the S word at all.

I’ve no doubt that my experience in the USA recently is going to keep needling away at me when I return to Scotland for a long time.

But it has me thinking about other injustices too and asking whether we should be talking about reparations for other crimes.

And I find myself asking in particular, should we be talking about the church making reparations for its actions against LGBT people?

One of the tragedies of reparations in connection to the slave trade is that they are being made so long after the events that no-one who was actually enslaved themselves is around to hear the apologies and to learn of attempts to face this horror. What can be done to those who are descended from those people should be done. But the fact that it has taken so long to try to face such things is part of the crime.

Most people that I know in the church could point towards people who were victims of the church’s disordered attitudes towards LGBT people. I can easily think of people whose relationships have been spoiled, who have lost their homes and livings and who have suffered mental health breakdown. And that is to say nothing of those whose personal faith in all that is holy, has been ruined. 

I can think of particular dioceses where particular bishops had policies that were particularly cruel. One such diocese in the C of E comes particularly to mind but I’m aware that the stories that I know will just be part of a much bigger picture.

I am pleased that there are churches like my own which now offer to marry same-sex couples and who ordain clergy in such relationships. However, we underestimate our capacity to put right that which is wrong if we think this is enough.

I could name people who are still alive to whom terrible things have happened. Some of them are my friends and they are still in the church. Some are not and many have left the faith that once nourished them far behind them.

Most will not have descendants to whom apologies will ever be able to be made.

Shall we wait until all are dead before facing up to what has been done?

And what other injustices should the churches turn and face?

A long time ago and in a land far away, by which I mean Fife, I was a theological student. It was a good time in my life. By and large I was in the company of clever people, learning clever things from clever people. Theological education can be exciting and that was an exciting time for me.

In the course of that time, I remember a little game that some of us used to play occasionally. It wasn’t Cards Against Humanity or even the Christian version, A Game for Good Christians that theological students are fond of in current times. No, it was called the Heresy Game and you could play it just about anywhere, including in the pub, so long as no-body had imbibed too much. (As an aside, the standard test for whether or not someone was drunk in my day was whether or not they could spell Schleiermacher with their eyes closed).

The rules of the Heresy Game are simple. One person thinks up a new heresy and describes it. The others then have to prove that it isn’t a new heresy at all by showing that the basic idea has already been declared a heresy by the church. Was it silly? Yes. Was it pretentious? Yes, deeply pretentious. Was it a good way of learning Fourth Century Christologies about which one was going to be examined? Well, actually, yes it was.

I have been thinking about this little game this week whilst reading some interesting commentary on where current thinking lies in the Church of England about how to move forward on the marriage of same-sex couples.

The first thing to note perhaps is that there does now seem to be a conversation about how this might be done which is getting more attention than conversations about whether this should be done at all. However, I am not 100% convinced that all that is being proposed is good and holy.

Now, why does this matter to me? After all, I don’t belong to the Church of England myself and would vote in favour of any proposals to heighten Hadrian’s ecclesiastical wall.

Well, the trouble is, and this is trouble that we’ve met many times over the years, things that happen in one part of the Anglican Communion affect those who worship the Lord in other parts of the Anglican vineyard. What we’ve never really established is what the things are that we should care about and what the things are that we should leave to the decisions of other Provinces.

Notwithstanding my many assertions over the years that changes that some churches brought in over the marriage of same-sex couples were best decided by the various Anglican provinces alone, somewhere in the back of my mind is the idea that the way that change happens can be just as important as the changes themselves. Indeed, in some cases, one might care less about what is changing and more about the way that change is being brought about.

Which brings us to current thinking about the way in which same-sex marriage might come about in churches of the Church of England.

Last week I read the most interesting thing about this that I’ve read in some time. It is a reflection from the Rev Canon Simon Butler on the outcomes of private talks held between those who want the marriages of same-sex couples to be a possibility and those who don’t. It is interesting, thoughtful and intelligent.

The common assumption seems to be that the marriage of same-sex couples in the Church of England is coming, albeit with a conscience clause for those opposed, and that many of those who are opposed to it would be able to stomach being in a church which does it.

So far so good.

The trouble is, it is claimed that the conscience clause isn’t enough.

Now, I’ve got a bit of history with the idea of a conscience clause in relation to same-sex marriages. The idea emerged within the local Regional Council that I belong to in Glasgow and was subsequently taken up by the diocese and then by the Scottish Episcopal Church and forms the basis on how we moved forward on this question. It was the Glasgow North-East Regional Council’s finest hour.

However, the idea of a conscience clause in Scotland was not simply to legitimise those who didn’t want to perform the marriage of same-sex couples. The idea of the conscience clause arose from the idea that the consciences of everyone in the church should be protected in relation to the marriage of same-sex couples. It was easy to agree that the consciences of those who disagreed with such marriages should be protected only so far as it was also agreed that the consciences of those who did want to conduct such marriages were also protected.

Pro-gay people have consciences too. This understanding that everyone’s consciences needed to be protected unlocked the impasse we had been in and allowed us to move forward in a way that kept almost all the church together.

What is being suggested at the moment in England is a conscience clause that would protect only the objectors and the assertion is being made that this wouldn’t be enough to satisfy objectors either. To any conscience clause would be added some form of structural change in the church that would mean that in some way those who objected to the marriage of same-sex couples would receive only the ministrations of bishops who also objected to the marriage of same-sex couples. It would set up an anti-gay structure within the Church of England that would be somehow protected forever.

Now, is this ringing any kind of bell?

Yes, of course, it is how the C of E has enabled the ordination to the priesthood and the episcopate of candidates who happen to be women. There are claimed to be two integrities in the Church of England and both are supposed to flourish forever.

Quite how the ministry of ordained women is supposed to be regarded as flourishing when the institution has set up structures to advance the cause of those who don’t believe that they are really ordained is, to say the least, problematic.

One the one hand, this solution allowed women to be ordained as both priests and as bishops and some people clearly think that was a price worth paying. However, from outside the system it does look very much as though they rode a coach and horses through catholic order as though it simply didn’t matter.

I rather think that those of us who are Episcoplians/Anglicans outside the C of E should have cared more about this at the time.

However, the Church of England voted for this mess and to a certain extent it is getting what it deserves.

But the prodigal daughter of that particular settlement could well be something similar for the (presumed majority) pro-gay folk in that church.

The question I have, is how far the C of E intends to go with this model?

Just how many “integrities” can you have?

It was often said that the marriage of same-sex couples would be a slippery slope and that no sooner were we marrying men to men and women to women, we would find ourselves authorising polygamous marriages, throuples and marriages of people with their pets.

Now this didn’t happen but I find myself wondering whether the real slippery slope in all this is that the C of E will continue to set up further church-within-a-church structures where people can have so-called sacramental confidence that they are only ever going to be dealing with bishops who share their own theological peccadillos.

I’ve been ordained for a long time now and have had the ministry of a number of bishops. I’m pretty sure that they would all be horrified at the idea that they could only be my bishop if they shared my views. (This works both ways, but putting it that way perhaps focusses the mind).

Now, my question for all of us who are playing the Heresy Game today – for remember, I co-opted you into a quick round of that game at the start of this post, is this… Has the Church of England managed to invent a new heresy – specifically, that bishops will be provided to cater for particular theological positions?

Tell me, C of E friends, what’s next? Will we be having bishops for those who in all conscience don’t believe in racial equality too?

Oh, I know that’s an offensive question. (And I also know those whose lived experience is that there’s more than enough church leaders who have racist views already).

I know many will think that it is completely unacceptable to compare those who are unable to accept the ordination of women or the marriages of same-sex couples, or the consequent bishops living openly in such marriages, to those who are racist.

The trouble for the Church of England is that the general population aligns those various issues and can’t really see the difference.

Deep in my heart, neither can I.

The conscience question cuts both ways. Those who are in favour of the marriage of same-sex couples shouldn’t be expected to live and work in a church which structurally discriminates against those in same-sex relationships. Women in ministry shouldn’t be expected to live and work in a church which structurally discriminates against women. And calling that experience thriving or flourishing is just plain cruel.

Somewhere along the way, the C of E is devising “solutions” to these questions which compromise the morality and common-good expectations of the general population.

That’s a matter for folk in England though why any church should think such solutions are good, bewilders me.

But they compromise good catholic order too, and that’s something that all Anglicans should care about.

The trouble with heresies is that people tend not to keep them to themselves.