I recently became involved in a brief email exchange with my local
MP John Leech regarding the consultation on civil marriage and gay people.
Whatever one might feel about his politics, John was admirably prompt and
attentive. One of his remarks struck me deeply –
‘I am
delighted to hear from someone in the church in support of these proposals. I
support the plans for same sex marriage, and it's good to see others in the
church supporting it too.’
Clearly, John had not been overwhelmed by positive responses from
church representatives or members. Am I surprised? Many congregations are
absorbed in their own concerns, and many clergy choose silence. Sometimes this is out
of fear for their future prospects, sometimes out of concerns about how speaking
out might look to their congregations and sometimes because they feel they have
better things to do. Anecdotally, I have met very
many clergy and lay people who do not agree with the C of E statement
concerning marriage. This document is not in their name.
In a complex, post-industrial society, there will be a variety of
perspectives on any subject. There will also be differing streams of thought –
some more conservative, some more progressive. Intelligent folk will seek to
think through the implications of social change. However, the claim that either
society or the institution of marriage will be dealt a massive body blow by the
extension of civil marriage rights to an excluded and traditionally
marginalized group does not stand the weight of serious scrutiny. As a woman
who both happens to be gay and a priest I regularly get asked to preside at the
civil partnerships (or as they're commonly described by participants 'weddings') of friends. Clearly I cannot do this. Nor could I preside at
the civil weddings of those folk should the current law be changed. But I have
witnessed how gay folk are just as capable of commitment, love and, yes,
failure in relationships as straight folk. And this is v encouraging. It
indicates that we are all human beings first, with all the attendant wonder and
brokenness that goes with that. But CPs surely demonstrate that, de
facto, CPs have become akin to marriage – we talk of' getting hitched', and so
on. It is time that this de facto equivalent was made a de jure one. And at a
civil level, the state can do this. Some countries already have. And guess what? Society and its institutions have been no more damaged by it than by allowing free
assembly for all, regardless of ethnicity, etc.
Sometimes I weep over the Church of England. People sometimes ask me why I
stay part of it. God, they say, weeps over it too. God, they say, is not part of its stumbling machinations. But there are too many
remarkable folk and, yes, often too much passion, hunger for
justice and love for me to leave. And yet at times like these I think of that
Hebrew word yasha. (Someone will correct me if I’ve got this
slightly wrong – never was a Hebrew scholar.) Christians typically connect the
word ‘salvation’ with faith in Jesus Christ. But if we go back to the Old
Testament we discover that the Hebrew verb for ‘to save’ is yasha. It is from this word that the
name Jesus (meaning ‘he who saves’) comes. Yasha
means ‘to be wide, to be spacious’. Its opposite is sara, which means to be narrow, whether physically, intellectually
or spiritually. So, in Old Testament terms, ‘salvation’ has to do with having
or getting space in which to move or breathe. This space gives the possibility
of choice, of growth and development. On these terms, the question of our salvation
becomes a focus upon how spacious and generous our souls are. A key question
is: am I a person who is broad and open, who is open to growth and change? The
extent to which we are on a journey to salvation is the extent to which we are
becoming more open and more generous human beings.
Experience
tells me we are all a combination of openness and narrowness. But surely, if
the Church of England is going to have a hope of modelling God’s love, hope and
peace it needs rather more openness at this time than narrowness?
