• On not shaking hands – Ugandan Anti-Homosexuality Law

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    This morning, I heard that the President of Uganda has signed into law the anti-gay law that there has been such a huge amount of discussion about.

    The law itself has become iconic. It is almost the definitive answer to what draconian anti-gay legislation looks like. The Ugandan Anti-Homosexuality Law brings in terrible punishments for those who are gay in Uganda. It also criminalizes those who don’t report those who are gay to the authorities. This then has an obviously detrimental effect on those who are trying to work against HIV infection – those who know of men having sex with men are supposed to report them. The bill has exacerbated hatred of gay people in that land.

    Furthermore, the bill asserts that Uganda has jurisdiction on Ugandans abroad suggesting that they could seek extradition for punishment back in Uganda if they commit “homosexual offences” whilst abroad. Yes – that’s right – that could criminalize people who live in Scotland. It could criminalize people attending my congregation.

    There are a number of people in the Scottish Episcopal Church who have links with Uganda – the Primus, the Most Rev David Chillingworth is one. Gill Young in my own congregation is another. They are the most obvious people who need to be given all our support and encouragement to speak out against this bill whenever they are talking about overseas relations between the churches, international aid and homosexuality generally. The Primus in particular made a visit to Uganda recently which some of us in the church believed to be unwise and attended a service which was addressed by President Museveni himself. However, it was supported by the rest of our bishops so they each share some responsibility for his actions.

    The question for those who go to Uganda and meet with church leaders and politicians there which needs to be asked is whether they have met and greeted those who have blood on their hands. I know no-one involved in any aid agency, NGO, equality organisation nor in the wider gay communities who do not believe that this law will lead to further direct violence against gay people in the region.

    The hand that signed the bill this morning belongs to President Musoveni. The bill has terrible consequences for gay people in Uganda and stretches its reach to people here in the city of Glasgow.

    This summer, the eyes of the world will be on the city of Glasgow as we welcome sports people from around the world for the Commonwealth Games. It is very clear to me that politicians (and church people t00 – for the churches muscle in on these sports fixtures just like many organisations and businesses do) must not be seen to shake hands with any Ugandan official. In particular, it must be made clear in this city that President Musoveni and other officials of the Ugandan government are not welcome here. That must apply to local council leaders as well as Scottish and UK government ministers. It would be particularly sickening to see SNP leaders welcoming the official representatives of a foreign government which is attempting to criminalize Ugandans living in Scotland just weeks before the Independence Vote.

    Ugandan athletes should be warmly welcomed in Glasgow this summer. They should be greeted with welcoming banners in all the colours of the rainbow.

    Ugandan government officials should be met with a refusal on behalf of all people of goodwill to shake hands.

    That’s a language that is well understood internationally and particularly well understood in Africa.

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

  1. Josh Avatar

    Being a good vicar to stony, unreceptive hearts might require a pickaxe to reveal gemstones within. It must be tough to minister to jerks and meanies, no? We lose faith in people easily – I certainly do. But a good vicar – a loving parent – doesn’t give on up one’s children.

    A good vicar might depend on the eye of the beholder. Whether you believe vicars and congregations are intrinsically good or evil might get you called a Pelagian or an Augustinian depending on who you ask. Faith in the work of a vicar or the reception of the congregation depends on good faith and co-operation – what then do we place our faith in? Hardly Protestant thinking, when faith is dependent on work, manifestation, and epiphany. A bad vicar might be sent to good people. A good vicar might be sent to bad people. Whether a vicar or congregation is subjectively or objectively good is a difficult question to answer.

    It is then that I prefer to see both the vicar and congregation not as “good” or “bad” but rather as equally “beloved”. However large the congregation, or even the vicar’s skill shouldn’t matter then. But that raises the question: Who then do we love if we are so beloved by God? Perhaps love might be the answer. A vicar and congregation who sees and knows themselves as equally and lavishly beloved of God will love each other. Love makes congregations meaningful and precious, no matter how small they might be.

  2. Josh Avatar

    And if I might add to my previous comment – And love also makes vicars meaningful and precious, no matter how small the congregation might be.

  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Yes – things which make the practicalities of small congregations include:
    the laity in most senior positions find it hard to see the inclusive love of God and to see the value of prayer and spiritual exercises, a shortage of laity with administrative abilities, a tiny handful of parishioners prepared to insist on unhelpful things all the time (the oldest liturgies every week, the kind of behaviour small children cannot sustain all service long, particular dress in those at church on Sunday to name but a tiny selection). In a larger church these things can be contained (one nasty comment for lady x outweighed by five or six lovely ones or simply finding somebody to be treasurer who can cope with the job). In a small church, however good the vicar, the nasty comment carries more weight, and the sorting out of the finances may take days of clergy effort. It is always hard to get from a tiny congregation to a large one.

    That said, I have sat through sermons so mind-numbingly boring and inappropriate that I have actually moved to another church.

  4. Paul Waddington Avatar
    Paul Waddington

    If one looks at the larger picture, the Archbishop’s optimism seems misplaced.

    According to the 1851 census, about five million people attended a Church of England service on the census day (a Sunday). The population of England and Wales at the time was about 17 million. These are round figures and I know that there were difficulties with the religious census, but they are good enough to demonstrate my point. Roughly speaking, about 30% of the population attended a CofE that Sunday.

    Recently published figures estimate average Sunday attendance at CofE churches at about 900,000. That is about 2% of the population of England. Wales is now excluded.

    So taking the long view, the trend is rather depressing for the CofE. Compared with 1851, fourteen out of fifteen no longer attend church regularly.

    As an aside, the 1851 census indicated a church attendance for Catholics of about 350,000. That is about 2% of the population. I understand that the current figure is very similar for Mass attendance is also around 900,000 or 2% of the population.

    Other recent research has indicated that the age range of CofE congregations is skewed towards the upper end. Certainly in my local parish, it is unusual to see anyone under the age of 60. I do wonder how many there will be in, say, 15 years time.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thanks Paul – I find that bishops generally tend to accentuate the positive when it comes to thinking about numbers in church. Whether that is because they only go to events that are comparatively well attended or whether it is actually because it is their job to be upbeat about possibilities is not clear to me.

  5. Pam Avatar
    Pam

    It is complicated – ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – poor adjectives. The rector is the leader of the congregation and needs support and trust. But, I think, no longer is the vicar held in such esteem as not to have to earn that support and trust. A good thing, mostly. Churches grow for all sorts of reasons – the level of involvement with non-believers, a prominent noticeboard and outstanding bikke and slice-makers all help.

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