Second Sunday before Advent (Safeguarding Sunday)
Today’s Gospel begins with Jesus’s disciples marvelling at the impressive scale of the Jerusalem temple, with great stone buildings rising into the sky. The response of Jesus himself is sobering; however strong the temple may appear, it will be entirely destroyed, with ‘not one stone left upon another.’ This is indeed exactly what happened in AD 70, when Roman legions and their prisoners dismantled and destroyedthe city of Jerusalem. The wholesale destruction of buildings and cities in Ukraine and Gaza can give us a sense of what that was like.
The tone of the Gospel is sombre, but it ends on a hopeful note: out of all thisdevastation, something new will be born. Jesus is speaking near the end of his ministry, in which he will experience human destructiveness and death. But that will not be the end: resurrection new life is coming; the reign of God is approaching.
Needless to say, perhaps, this last week has been sombre and sobering for the Church of England. An Archbishop has resigned in the wake of a devastating report by Keith Makin, a former director of social services. His report sets out in unsparing detail the horrific abuse committed by the barrister John Smyth, first in this country during the 1970s and early 1980s, and subsequently in Zimbabwe and South Africa, at a series of boys camps and in his own home. It also sets out the way this abuse was covered up, with the voices of the victims never properly heard or acted upon. In terms of the reputation of many named in the report, not one stone is left upon another; I would be surprised if there are not more resignations.
And, irony upon irony, here we are on safeguarding Sunday. Until the events of the past week, the way I was viewing this sermon was relatively straightforward; to, in the context of reflecting on the Word of God, emphasize how at the cathedral creating a community where all are safe and can flourish is vital to us, that this is a shared responsibility, for all that we have named individuals with key roles – such as Canon Harriet, our safeguarding lead, and Andy Hawkins, a member of the diocesan safeguarding team with particular responsibility for working with us here.
These things are still worth saying, but now the Makin report and the Archbishop’s resignation have radically changed the context in which I stand here in this pulpit. In my reflection on the Cathedral’s website, published last Thursday, and also included in our email notices on Friday, I began by referring to the sixth century Rule of St Benedict, which opens with the exhortation to ‘Listen.’ Listen. I have since discovered that Archbishop Justin’s enthronement in Canterbury, just over a decade ago, included a newly commissioned anthem by Benjamin Britten's godson, Michael Berkeley, setting music to the very same text, ‘Listen, listen, O my child’.
As I say, this is the beginning of the widely influential Rule, in which Benedict sets out what is needed to ‘establish a school for the Lord's service.’ Those of you who have read my reflection will know I was drawn to this text after hearing the Archbishop had at first taken soundings with unnamed senior colleagues, who had advised him to stay. This decision, rightly and quickly reversed, for me encapsulates much of what has gone so badly wrong in this and other devastating cases of silence and inaction. Yes, says St Benedict, we must listen – but to who? In the first instance, God, but as the Rule encourages, also a variety of others, including the youngest and least powerful. In the case of John Smyth, the voices of those who were abused were not listened to or prioritised. They should have been. What a terrible irony that a key motivation for this silencing was to protect the reputation of a particular Christian ministry, when now the whole church is besmirched.
As I was preaching at the 8 o’clock this morning, I realized just how implicated, sullied and let down I feel personally; I suspect I’m not the only one. Feel free to talk to me or any member of the ministry team about any aspect of this, or indeed to Andy Hawkins, not least if you are aware of some aspect of the church’s life that we really need to know about.
Those who persuaded themselves, and there were many, that protecting God’s work involved silencing the voices of the abused, forgot that the God revealed in Jesus Christ always prioritises the most vulnerable. At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus stands up in the synagogue and reads from Isaiah: ‘The Spirit of Lord is upon me, to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, to let the oppressed go free.’ This is at the very heart of the Gospel, and of our task in the church today.
As I say, I have no idea who the Archbishop originally spoke to. I have seen one article, in an influential periodical, arguing that resignation was unnecessary because John Smyth was not a priest, worked for an influential evangelical trust, not the church, etc. This is surely very wide of the mark, as Archbishop Justin has himself expressed in his resignation statement: he accepts personal responsibility and accountability for his own actions and omissions, with traumatizing consequences for others. The question is more now, as I said earlier, whether or not other resignations will follow, as they surely should.
Our own bishop has spoken of his determination to ‘glean every ounce of learning from the Report’s finding and recommendations.’ I know, he continues, ‘that our churches and church schools will continue to do their utmost to ensure children, young people and vulnerable adults are kept safe, by engaging with safeguarding training, fostering a safe culture, and putting into practice the appropriate policies and procedures.’
As I recognize, and Bishop Jonathan recognizes, we are a work in progress. A lot has changed since the 70s and 80s but plainly not enough. The fact that Safeguarding Sunday exists, and that an Archbishop has resigned, are simultaneously signs that church culture is changing, but also that there is still a long way to go.
In this there is more to be learnt from that Benedictine Rule, and particularly from the vows taken by novices. So in the final section of this sermon, a shift in tone as I say a little about this, and in particular the vows of stability, and conversion of life.
Stability challenges contemporary tendencies towards restlessness and individualism, and being blown hither and thither by events, including the kind of media stormcurrently surrounding the Church of England, in favour of staying rooted in the daily rhythm of prayer, work and community life. It is about staying loyal to a particular community and place, listening to God and one another, including the voices that challenge. And stability mirrors broader spiritual virtues such as perseverance and trust. ‘Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful.’ So says our second reading from the letter to the Hebrews.
Being ‘hopeful without wavering’ also relevant to the vow of conversion of life. This is not about a one-time action or decision, but about a lifelong journey of seeking God through repentance, humility and openness to change. Stability does not mean ‘never rocking the boat’. It means facing together what has gone wrong, and by God’s grace putting it right and making the necessary changes. Along the way struggles and failures are to be faced with hope and determination.
That was how Benedict saw things in the sixth century, building on the faith and insight of those who came before. How relevant that ancient wisdom remains, as we face the struggles and failure of today.
Benedict exhorted us to Listen, to God, to one another, to visitors at the door who were to be welcomed as Christ himself, to listen as widely as possible for you never knew who might tell you what you really needed to hear. This, so we could be a ‘school in the Lord’s service’. The choice of the word is telling. Christians are never school leavers, for they always have more to learn, as we do here.
It has been a sobering and sombre week. But through it all, and despite feeling let down, I am full of determination and hope. The culture of cover up that Makin describes in his report must go, so that not one stone of it remains upon another. The culture, of ‘Listen, listen my child’, with stability of life and conversion of heart, is what we are called to embrace. In the terrible articulation of all that has gone wrong, may be found the birth pangs of what is to come. In Christ, who spoke of the destruction of the temple to his disciples, and then faced the worst we human beings could do to him, and never stopped loving or forgiving, is found the new life of the resurrection. So, ‘Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful.’ AMEN