It’s been an exciting few weeks. It’s felt a bit as if a fine horse has been galloping by and I’ve been wondering how to leap on to it. But I feel I’ve got one foot in the stirrup by now and I’m clinging on! Thank you so much for the warm welcome you’ve given Wendy and me. We’re very conscious of the care and trust and prayer of so many. And we’re humbled. Would you mind letting the honeymoon go on for seven years or so? That would be great.
I wanted to say a little this morning about the principles and values that I believe make for an effective Diocesan Synod. I’m sure you already live by all of them but it might be good to put them on the table and for me to say ‘this is what I hope for as we enjoy working together.’ I’ve got six principles to offer briefly. You may remember the words of Groucho Marx of course. He once concluded: ‘These are my principles. But if you don’t like them I’ve got some others.’ I’m not going down that route!
Here’s the first principle: that we be committed to sustaining the sacred centre of our diocesan life. It seems to me that a Synod first and foremost gathers to listen to God together, to discern his future for us. In that sense we are – as they used to be called - a ‘Holy Synod’. We meet around Jesus Christ, in the embrace of the Father, open to the promptings of the Spirit. And by the way we seek to listen to God, through each other and with each other, we may hope that we are modeling something essential to all the synodical and conciliar meetings in the diocese, whether at deanery or parish level.
I love the verse in Revelation that ‘there was silence in heaven for half an hour.’ Only half and hour! Noisy bunch. But what about Synod? How do we attend to God? How do we listen? Do we strain our minds and hearts to hear the quiet thunder of the Lord of Hosts? Because without him we can do nothing. That’s the bottom line. I don’t know about you but sometimes I start a meeting by lighting a candle and I keep it lit throughout the meeting as a reminder that the risen Christ is amongst us. I used to value PCC meetings where we might stop and keep silence together, waiting on God before making important decisions, rather than simply ‘disinfecting’ a meeting with prayer at the start before we got down to the so-called ‘real’ business. By all means we can, let’s be committed to sustaining the sacred centre of our diocesan life.
Here’s the second principle: that our fundamental concern be about growing the Kingdom. I like that phrase, ‘growing the kingdom’: growth is a many-faceted process, and it’s a horticultural, one too – natural, organic. The important point is that we’re not a beleaguered remnant in society planning an honourable retreat. We’re a community of joyful, confident pilgrims praying that more people will hear the Good News about what a good God did on Good Friday to make the world good. We’re concerned about changed lives and changed communities, starting with ourselves. We first have to be communities of grace with something to celebrate and to offer.
Synod therefore, it seems to me, has to be concerned about the big picture, about what’s often called ‘double listening’ – attending to the riches of the Christian tradition and also to the realities of contemporary culture. And interpreting the two, in the counsels of God. For example, isn’t it good news that in a recent survey 75% of couples marrying in church simply think it’s the proper place to do it, and amongst the population in general 44% think marriage preparation by the church is important before the wedding and nearly 40% think support by the church is important afterwards. And we’re often so apologetic about it! There’s a real hunger out there, a real opportunity. How does Synod endorse, encourage and resource that work? Just one part of growing the kingdom – our second principle.
Thirdly, I believe Synod needs to work as much as possible in a relational rather than an institutional style. Yes, we have an institutional function within a synodical church, but we can count widgets elsewhere. Fundamentally we’re God’s people taking counsel together, bringing our parishes with us, and remembering that behind each report, each paper, each set of figures, are people – people who pray and struggle, and dream and sometimes weep, people like you and me. God’s wonderful, resourceful, fragile people.
Of course, as in any family, we won’t agree with each other all the time, but first of all we are brothers and sisters in Christ, and precious to each other, just as we are precious to God. Rabbi Hugo Gryn told the story of two friends. One said that he really loved the other. The other replied: ‘Then tell me where my pain is.’ ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘Then how can you tell me you love me if you don’t know where my pain is?’ said the other. Being a relational Synod means a deep level of empathy.
Fourth, I hope our Synod is a place of imagination and inspiration, as well as the necessary detailed decision-making. We all go to too many meetings. You know one of the definitions of a committee – a cul-de-sac into which ideas are lured and then quietly strangled. Well, we have to work intentionally against that. I hope our Synod is a place where we glimpse new things, and where we glimpse old things in a new way. That means careful planning of the agenda, and careful thought about the style of participation, but it also means us coming to Synod expectantly and prayerfully, looking for God’s new word to us. Expectancy is so crucial in our church life.
I hope we can go away from Synod thinking, ‘This is a good set-up to be part of. It’s purposeful, interesting, and indeed inspiring. I’m glad I’ve been here.’ As I jump on to this speeding horse in Oxford it certainly feels like a thoroughbred, and I think we probably have a real responsibility to encourage other parts of the Church of England, as we have done with things like our Cutting Edge Ministries, our Developing Servant Leadership programme, our Church Near You website and so on.
But if we’re to be this kind of Synod – imaginative and inspiring – we’ll need to travel as light as we can. We need to be nimble and quick on our feet. Our problem is that as a Church we can seem to be like a pilgrim who set off on a journey one bright morning with an empty rucksack, but as he went he kept on being given rocks along the way. Some of the rocks looked bright and shiny; others were simply dark and lumpy. His rucksack got heavier and heavier until eventually he came to a complete standstill. He knew what he had to do; he had to take some of the rocks out of the rucksack. But sadly he didn’t. Instead he put the rucksack down and ever since he’s been guarding the rucksack!
But not for us – we travel light.
Here’s a different kind of principle: an ethic of responsible stewardship. I know this is high in our value system already but let’s state it again. We can’t look society in the face if we don’t ask ourselves questions about trade justice, peace-making, the environment, carbon emissions and so on. Increasingly society looks at us to demonstrate our integrity before we speak about its source. We have to live it before we can say it. So always we have before us the question of how we ourselves are approaching the high bar of God’s justice, lest we fail to make the jump and crash out of the competition before we’ve really got started.
And yet – sixth principle – we take a serious ethical stance not because we want to be killjoys but because we believe genuinely that the way of faith is to be enjoyed as life in all its fullness. I’m with you to enjoy what Paul calls ‘the glorious liberty of the children of God.’ I know there’ll be some roadblocks on the way, some diversion signs, but no terrorism I hope! We’re here because we don’t believe there’s any better way to experience abundance than through faith in Jesus Christ. So let’s celebrate the feast!
When I tool on a previous job as Archdeacon of Canterbury my secretary gave me a card which showed a dog on a high wire in a circus tent. The dog was on a unicycle; he had a rabbit in his mouth, a jug of water on his head; he was juggling a number of balls and he had a hula hoop round his waist. The caption said: ‘High above the crowd Rex tried to remain focussed. However he couldn’t shake off one nagging thought: he was an old dog and this was a new trick.’
I know what he meant. This is a new trick for me, but I do want to enjoy it with you, and I trust that we’ll work this ‘Bishop-in-Synod’ model, using these principles I’ve been talking about, and seeing how God can use us – even us – for his glory.
There’s everything to play for - let’s do it!
