• George C and Ann W

    Sometimes one’s twitter feed appears to simply light up with activity. It did so for me as countless people that I know posted their instant reactions to the things that George Carey and Ann Widdecombe said at a meeting held to co-incide with the Tory Party Conference, which was intended to rally the anti-same-sex marriage faithful. The long and short of it is that they seemed to imply that equal marriage would be the next stage on a slippery slope towards a totalitarian political system. It is reported that when asked about opponents to same-sex marriage being called names (the “bigot” word is what we are talking about, I fear), Lord Carey apparently said that such namecalling could lead to people facing the same kind of persecution as the Jews in Nazi Germany.

    It is nonsense, of course, and all the more offensive as he seems to have forgotten that gay people were very particularly targeted by the Nazis too.

    David Cameron may be a lot of things but I’d say that, having met him, I am pretty sure that he is not preparing a final solution to impose upon former archbishops and their followers. One might have thought that such comments were beneath even Lord Carey’s rarefied pomposity, but it would appear not.

    So, what do I say about all this?

    Firstly, it is worth remembering that these comments have at least as much power in rallying the pro-same-sex marriage cause as the anti-brigade. Indeed, all this does seem to recruit people to the fight for equality. It is hard to think anything other than that these comments make same-sex marriage all the more likely. No sensible politician is going to align themselves with this style of debate anyway. (I don’t think Ann Widdecombe was ever a serious politician though I will confess that in her barmy single-mindedness she remains, like Tommy Sheridan and Arthur Scargill, one of my very guilty political pleasures).

    Secondly, it is worth reflecting on how easy it is for church people to get themselves into the news. It interests me that George Carey (once the Primate of All Englandshire) can still get column inches in the same kind of way that Richard Holloway (who was at the same time Primus of our own dear Scottish church) still can. Richard is still one of the more interesting and sane people prepared to say things to the press and consequently gets good coverage.

    One of the lessons to learn from Lord Carey’s nonsense is that the press will still report things if clergy have interesting (and indeed, yes, outrageous things to say). I got lots of good press recently for saying that everyone is welcome in our churches and that we would happily look after any disaffected Roman Catholics for one Sunday only whilst their own church was saying hideous things.

    It isn’t terribly exciting to say that everyone is welcome in St Mary’s. It is what we and many others say very often. Interesting though that if you articulate the risks and blessings of that kind of welcome, all of a sudden, the press puts it on the front page.

    (Incidently, I do hope that the Roman Catholic church wants to look after any disaffected Episcopalians who are in need of sanctuary. They’ve been actively recruiting from the top with their Ordinariate scheme and we must wish anyone who signs up godspeed and good wishes).

    Getting back to Lord Carey and Ann W though, what shall we pray for them. A blessing of wisdom, I say, and let us pray that the Holy Spirit might bless them both with a dose of compassionate holy common sense.

    God bless them both.

    Do I hear anyone say, Amen? (And a retweet if you are twittering….)

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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