Many of you will be aware that last week the General Synod of the Church of England met in London to debate and take decisions on a number of significant matters, and it was good to be there alongside Bishop Robert and the seven wonderful members from this diocese.
As always, it has been quite frustrating reading some of the media reports, particularly when it came to the reporting on the five hour debate focused on ‘Living in Love and Faith’ (LLF). Much of the reporting has implied that where we have reached is the final end of the road, rather than a recognition that it is more akin to arriving at a significant and painful crossroads. The process entitled ‘Living in Love and Faith’ has ended, and a new road has been agreed Synod approves motion confirming LLF programme to conclude and new working group to be established | The Church of England In arriving at this crossroads, many people have had to give up much, and it has been costly and painful, most pointedly for so many LGBTQI+ sisters and brothers. I hope the clarity I sought to bring in my letter in January might be helpful.
Throughout General Synod, at points of decision-making whether on legislative matters or debates focused on different spheres of the Church’s mission, moments of voting often felt like standing at a crossroads to see where our collective listening to different perspectives and stories coming from different angles, might take us.
For me, that sense of crossroads and places of crossing, resonate strongly with the theme of Lent, as we look within ourselves and our communities — our desires, longings and temptations — and the choices ever before us, as we are called to deny ourselves and take up our cross.
This week we walk into Lent, and many of us will receive crosses of ash on our forehead tomorrow, reminding us not only of our fragility and brokenness, as we are called to remember ‘that we are dust and to dust we shall return’, but also of our beautiful abiding in Christ. The cross of Christ does indeed mark the intersection of two very different paths.
I love the story of the Rabbi who proclaimed that having two pockets is important. In the one pocket there should be a slip of paper with the words ‘I am dust and ashes’ and in the other, a slip of paper with the words ‘For my sake was the world created.’
I hope that in the coming days of Lent, we will find ways of creating space to inhabit deeper prayer and reflection on Scripture, and allow ourselves to reach places of crossroads and crossing within us as individuals and communities; To have the courage to acknowledge our sin and failings while also discovering yet more of our beauty and potential as we open ourselves to the overwhelming love and grace of God.
In Gloucester, the main streets are named after the points of the compass: Northgate, Southgate, Westgate and Eastgate, and they converge at a place known as ‘The Cross’. Indeed, it is not unusual for people to choose this as a meeting place – Guy and I often agree to meet in town ‘at the cross’.
This might be a very good metaphor for us to carry into Lent. As we keep our eyes on Christ’s cross, yet already with the empty tomb on the horizon, may there be surprising places within us, between us and around us of ‘meeting at the cross’ – and if giving something up (or taking something on) enables this to happen, then rejoice.
With my thanks and prayers as ever,
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