Love your minister

There weren’t that many of us at St James’s yesterday for the promised report from the Receptive Ecumenism team. Probably ten days before Christmas is not the best time to get busy people to a one-off event – even if it offers the possibility of fitting in some last-minute shopping in Newcastle and a glimpse of Fenwicks window. But, for those of us who turned up, it was a good day.

I admit to an interest: I have been a bit involved with the project over the four or five years that it’s been running. Paul Murray rather exaggerated my contribution to its birth in his opening remarks;  but from my far-off student days when transactional analysis was all the rage I still remember being told that “we all need our strokes”. It’s always good to be appreciated.

Which was one of the thoughts that was somewhere around when the leadership survey report was presented by Tom Redman (like Paul, a Durham professor – we were in pretty high-powered company). Some 184 of church members in our synod had gallantly filled in a questionnaire about their attitudes to their minister; and though plenty of questions were raised about the methodology, there was no reason to dispute the general conclusion that the “performance” value of church members is heavily dependent on the style of the minister’s leadership.  And the number-crunching of every section of the questions revealed appreciation for the minister’s “servant leadership”.

I was thinking about this this morning when an e-Christmas card made its way into my inbox. You may have received the same one yourself: Linda and Gill at Church House are appreciative of what we have done to support and advocate Commitment for Life over the past year, and are looking forward to celebrating the 20^th anniversary in 2012.  I clicked on the link – and while not over-impressed (sorry Gill!) by the schmaltzy music and snow scene I find myself fascinated by the site: you can send a FREE CHRISTIAN ECARD (choice of design) for nearly every holiday and every occasion imaginable.

As well as Christmas and Hannukah and Chinese New Year(why would they be Christian ecards?) there’s Patriot Day, Boss Day, Reformation Day, Teacher’s Day and St Patrick’s Day – among many others. But the two that caught my eye were Clergy Appreciation Day and Ministry Appreciation Month.  Perhaps in the next few days I should send to all my not-yet-retired colleagues the one with the sleeping dog that says “take it easy....”  But you might choose the tasteful water lily that simply says “thank you” – or if you’re more effusive you might even chance “You’re a great pastor! Your hard work and sacrifice are appreciated!”  Or where appropriate, you can choose from two designs that proclaim “Woman of God,  God Bless you for your ministry” – though to my mind the soft focus and white dress on one of them border on what we now call “inappropriate”.

Receptive ecumenism, as the name implies, is about discovering what we can receive from others, rather than concentrating on the gifts that we have to bring ourselves. I’ve always been uneasy about that non-gospel saying of our Lord’s, that it is more blessed to give than to receive, because in my own experience most of the people I’ve worked with in the Church find receiving far harder than giving. Of course, as perhaps Fenwicks window and the John Lewis advert remind us, both giving and receiving are needed to complete any transaction – and blessedness is to be found when both are undertaken in the right spirit.

Whether or not they receive the appropriate e-cards, I hope that my colleagues who couldn’t get to St James’s yesterday will know that their ministry is appreciated. And if they haven’t yet filled in the admittedly difficult questionnaire that they were asked to complete about attitudes to their church leader – yes, we know that moderators are different, and the questions don’t easily match our ecclesiology – the Receptive Ecumenism team would be very grateful to receive their late entries.

 John Durell

Dying to live -- Vision 2020 Northern Synod

The group remaining in the Church at the Synod at Wideopen commented on the Northern Synod Strategy. They had both supportive and negative comments to share. Whilst the Plan was accepted in principle it was agreed that Mission Executive needed to do some additional work to make it more acceptable to the majority.

It would be helpful to hear where the tweaking/rewriting needs to be done to make it more universally acceptable to our churches. You will recall that there is no requirement to adopt the whole approach - some churches will want to focus on just one or two themes   to re-energise mission in their communities.

Some of the comments from the floor may be useful in helping people suggest where a different wording or approach may be required:

• Felt inspired by the ideas and felt there was plenty in the documentation to attract churches wanting to find something to re-energise themselves
• Whilst unwilling to wholeheartedly endorse the approach it was suggested that whilst it would not change the world it looked a very worthwhile exercise for churches to undertake.
• Several people felt that Elderships were ageing and their energies were already focused on day-to-day church matters.  They felt they could not cope with anything new.
• Concern that LMMR which might help Churches review their positions and plan for the future with support from others wasn’t yet off the ground and there was scepticism that sufficient other support would be available.
• Some showed impatience with yet another initiative .Don't fiddle whilst Rome burns. ! Do things!  Have faith but do things now!
• The statements in the document help people to think clearly -- they provide signposts and are therefore helpful.
• Dying to Live isn’t a good name.  Generally people will not connect with the concept and therefore it will have negative connotations with many church members.
• A feeling that the church is not using its financial resources well.  Churches in vacancy are paying considerable sums in M& M. and pulpit fees.  This money might be better used by those churches to further their local mission ambitions.
• We have to focus on growth otherwise we will die!
• Ecumenism just obscures falling membership -- Growth in the URC is the key. But how?
• Concerns  that we may have a ” Bishop- led synod” -- give ministers the opportunity to address the problems of falling congregations in a collegial way.  Give them their head!
• This is another initiative which glosses over problems -- we need people on the ground to develop mission opportunities which might fuel church growth.

HELP US TO SHAPE A DOCUMENT WHICH REFLECTS YOUR THOUGHTS & CONCERNS. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Sue Bush

Member- Mission Executive

Reformed or dissenting?

I’ve been thinking the past week about “Reformed identity”.  I went to Synod determined to keep quiet (except when asked to speak) and enjoy retirement in the pews – but just because you don’t have a vote and a role to play doesn’t mean you don’t feel for people.

Wasn’t it a bit rough, after all the work that had been put into sharpening Vision2020 for Northern Synod, for it all to be put on hold? I can see that the document we were given had its shortcomings, but its authors seemed  ready to listen and to amend it. If you’ve been working hard on something like this, having it sent back must seem discouraging. Hardly the way for us to get the best out of people!

The most focused criticism I heard was over this issue of identity: that while we say plenty in general terms about needing to know who we are, we need to be more specific about being Reformed. But I wonder how much the members of synod gathered at Wideopen could have told us about what Reformed identity means to them. I’ve never been too sure what it is: if it has to do with the Bible at the centre of everything, and valuing a learned ministry – well, we’re mostly using the same lectionary week by week as the other Churches around us, and their preachers and  worship leaders (not noticeably less educated than ours) will be relying on the same resources as we all do.

Either we’ve lost what is distinctively Reformed, or we’ve valued it and commended it so well that it’s somehow found its way into all the Churches. Or perhaps a bit of both?

There are other aspects of our identity, though, that we seem to forget about altogether. 1662 had just the briefest of mentions last Saturday – a single line in one of the written reports, vainly hoping that someone might notice the date next year. Fifty years ago when we were celebrating the 300^th anniversary of the Great Ejectment (which now seems to have been domesticated to the Great Ejection), I don’t recall any concern about Reformed identity, but plenty of discussion about what it meant to be a Dissenter.

Granted that things have moved on (fifty years ago we couldn’t even receive communion in parish churches, though ironically our forebears had suffered for choosing not to), and granted that taking a stand on simply being against something or being different sounds far meaner than taking pride in being Reformed,  I fear we are missing out on a very significant part of our identity by neglecting this historic perspective.

Congregationalist and Presbyterians, good Reformed church people, wanted to be part of a Reformed Church of England, but in all conscience felt that they could not sign up to the settlement of 1662. And they paid the price for their non-conformity. I suspect that for many of us, if we’ve thought about it at all, there will be rather different issues today that would make it difficult to throw in our lot with the established Church – but I at least would not want to accuse my Anglican brothers and sisters of being insufficiently Reformed. And I’m sure there’s more than enough variety of practice and opinion to suit God’s good purposes in both our camps.

Meanwhile, if the poor Mission Executive members now have to reflect on our Reformed identity, could they also spare a thought on what it might mean today to be a Dissenter?

John Durell

(former synod clerk and ecumenical officer)

Mozambique Blog 12

Bongani is one year old. His name means Thank you – clearly appropriate as his parents waited seven years for him.

This afternoon we went to his birthday party. Hillian’s first day here in Maputo was spent at one family’s celebrations; now on our last day we’ve shared in another’s. The venue was a kindergarten in an upmarket area of the city. Just like home, there were rows of balloons on the railings outside, in case we were uncertain where to go. But the bouncy castle in front of the building gave the game away really.

Round the back was the party proper. Small tables were laid ready for some sixty children, while probably more than that number of adults were sitting at bigger tables and getting ready to tuck into the serious food. Bongani’s grandparents, who had invited us, explained that while the size of African families prevents everyone attending everyone’s birthday celebrations every year, for special birthdays like this one everyone comes together.

Sadly we had to leave before the cake was cut. Or rather cakes – there seemed to be several of them, nestling beneath rainbow arches of balloons. But our afternoon had a more serious purpose – we were due at the third English language service at Khovo. We knew attendance was going to be small, as there were many things on in the church this weekend; but the faithful few who were there have promised us that the service will continue. And their gratitude was expressed in the traditional way – well with a bit of twist. Hillian has another kapulana, but I am now the proud owner of a Mandela-style African shirt.

So that’s the last of the last things to do. It's just a case now of a bit of a debriefing session at Khovo in the morning before going off to the airport for the mid afternoon flight. I’m not sure what I will be expected to say then, or indeed what I will want to say. I think we need time to stand back from the experience and reflect on it – both in terms of what it has meant for us personally, and what we can draw from it to strengthen our two Churches.

That’s hardly blogging material – so I think it is time to sign off this Mozambique blog. Thanks for following!

John Durell

Mozambique blog 11

Yesterday, as some of our students would say, we were biz. Portuguese seems easily to lose the ends of words: greetings in the latter part of the day are usually heard as boa tard and boa noit without the final e. So at Khovo we are often told that our students have been too biz to come to the lesson; and knowing that we too are biz people make frequent offers of coff to see us through the day.

Apart from working on this Sunday’s service, yesterday we had a session with Ernesto looking at how to develop prayer partnerships with our Synod, and also were part of the lunchtime celebrations to mark the opening of the Sewing Project – which I will write up separately for the main part of the website. But for Hillian and me the main event was our final English lesson.

We’ve been offering these lessons for less than five weeks – one group in the morning and one in the afternoon.  So the perfect attender (and I think there may be just one or two) will not have spent much more than twenty hours with us: hardly doing more than scraping the surface. All our students have been workers at Khovo, the Church HQ, or somehow or other attached to it, and they have ranged in age from early twenties up to sixty. Everyone has had some English already – but needless to say (and a challenge to the teachers) these have been very much mixed ability classes.

When I began (a few days before Hillian joined me) the first shock was the formality of the setting, which was matched by the students’ expectations. The small classroom was set out with desks – those very old fashioned ones with chairs attached, so that there was absolutely no chance of moving the furniture round and sitting in a circle. Not that they would have wanted that. When I started the lesson by trying what I hopefully imagined was the Berlitz method of direct conversation, I was shouted down: everything was to be written in chalk on the blackboard!

But somehow we have slotted into the system. We’ve gone through the auxiliary verbs, to be and to have and all the rest of them ad nauseam.  I love doing the past simple of “to have” and saying to them “Isn’t English easy?” We’ve struggled over the days of the week: Portugal seems to have been the most Christian of nations, dismissing all heathen gods from its calendar, with the result that between domingo and sabado come days 2 to 6. We’ve tried to explain that though this may make it difficult for the students to learn a set of names, it is also difficult for the teachers to have to count up on their fingers to work out just what day it is in Portuguese.

Somehow, despite the rows of desks and the chalk and the blackboard, not to mention the sheer impossibility of the subject, we’ve had a lot of fun together. I’m not sure how much this is a different experience for our students, but I suspect we are really supposed to sit on a chair behind the teacher’s table rather than walk around the room and sit on the desks and generally make fools of ourselves acting some of the concepts out. I hope it’s been a refreshing experience for them all: at any rate, with a few exceptions they’ve continued to come. They’ve struggled with irregular verbs and inconsistent pronunciation and our inadequate explanations of when to use the perfect tense rather than the past simple. They may not have been as diligent as they could have been in working at it between lessons: but who am I to talk? I sort of worked my way halfway through Learn Portuguese in 13 Weeks, and yet haven’t dared to speak a word beyond “Estou bem, obrigado.”

And yesterday we were more than a little touched by the things said at the “Bye-bye session” – by the traditional gifts of kapulanas, and by the solemn assurances that they would follow Hillian’s advice and speak a little English to each other every day. Practise, practise, practise!

For people in Mozambique, of course, there is a real pressure to learn English which is much greater than our need while here to speak Portuguese. They are painfully aware that their country is effectively a Portuguese speaking island set in a sea of English: every surrounding nation has a British imperial history, all the way from South Africa up to Tanzania; and English is the unifying language spoken right across Southern Africa. Significantly Mozambique was the first nation that had not been part of the Empire to join the Commonwealth. In this post-colonial age, it is clear where it needs to belong.

But things are not easy for people like our students. Here in Maputo everyone speaks Portuguese, but that is far from being the case across the country. So there is need to reinforce Portuguese as the nation’s own unifying language, before ever turning to another European tongue. Most families speak local languages, such as Ronga or Shangana, at home; and it is only on starting school that children study Portuguese seriously, so that it becomes the language in which their whole education is offered. So by the time they are of secondary school age they will have had to become fluent in two languages before ever tackling English. It’s become clear to us that, not surprisingly, the quality of English teaching in schools can vary considerably; but even the best is not likely to bring the pupil to fluency before school days are over. No surprise then that there are English language schools all over the city. And the pastor who told me that he is taking English language lessons with a view to studying theology at a higher level is no doubt typical of people in all sorts of professions.

So we sadly said Goodbye to our students yesterday with all these thoughts in mind. They know that they need English, but they are realistic enough to know that they are not all going to reach the level of competence that they might wish. I would have liked to have done more to help them – but we did what we could in the time that we had. I hope that they will remember us as fondly as we will them.

John Durell

Mozambique Blog 10

I’ve never properly found out how the Presbyterian Church of Mozambique got its name.  Bearing in mind that its roots go back to the Swiss Mission (the 125^th anniversary of its work will be commemorated in 2012), we might have expected this French-speaking organisation to have given birth to a Church that wore the epithet Reformed, rather than Presbyterian. When I’ve asked in the past about this, I’ve been given the answer that it may just be to do with the proximity of English-speaking missionaries in the late 19^th century whose work in South African will have overlapped with the Swiss. But I also wonder if the Founding Fathers may have cottoned on to the fact that the Portuguese word reformado also means retired – perhaps not quite the way you want to describe a Church that seeks to become a force in the land. (But I guess it makes me reformado squared.)

Today I’ve been asking just how Presbyterian the IPM really is. I don’t have any ecclesiological reference books at hand, but the Wikipedia article on Presbyterian polity seems to me to have the right idea when it contrasts its subject with the Congregational way, and makes the point that “authority in the presbyterian polity flows both from the top down (as higher assemblies exercise limited but important authority over individual congregations, e.g. only the presbytery can ordain ministers, install pastors, and start up, close, and approve relocating a congregation) and from the bottom up (e.g. the moderator and officers are not appointed from above but are rather elected by and from among the members of the assembly).” Many of us would be wary of this top and bottom language, but we would still expect constraints on any local church that chooses to go its own way.

We were taken this morning on a Synod Pastoral Visit to Moamba, near the South African border. The church there, which is literally the wrong side of the tracks, has been struggling since the 1920s: it can’t afford to pay for a minister, and indeed has nowhere to house a minister, so the only ministry it receives is from a poor pastor who lives 50 Km away and makes his living through secular employment. His commitment is strictly Sundays-only. Your heart goes out to such people – and wonderfully they remain faithful and full of hope. All of which is being  expressed now in their plans to build a new church.

We crossed the tracks just as the train for Johannesburg drew in – but all the coming and going was on the side we had left. Another ten minutes’ walk through a very poor area brought us to a large open space, which our hosts proudly told us was all theirs. On one edge was a half built house which hardly looked the work of professional builders, while over the far side was the poor corrugated iron building that is hardly fit to function as a place of worship. Next to it were the foundation blocks of what is being designed as a substantial building. And with the visit, I should add, came an invitation to return and lay the foundation stone on November 6^th!

My heart sank at the sight of it all, because over my visits to Mozambique I have seen so many half-and-less-built buildings. A Church that knows its Bible well seems never to have reflected on Luke 14.28. Shouldn’t its people first sit down and calculate what they are capable of? Time and time again work is begun on projects for which there is no budget, no intention of ever using competent and professional labour, and which will use up all the resources that might have otherwise gone towards, for instance, costs of ministry and evangelism. All of this is being decided by local congregations, who leave no prospect of any kind of national strategy for development and mission.

Talking with the Synod visitors afterwards I sensed a degree of frustration on their part – and maybe bemusement that Presbyterian polity should have led to such a situation. They cited instances of building projects that have taken 15 or 20 years – and I suspect know of others that have simply no hope of completion. Yet on the other hand, who can disparage the faith of those who laugh at impossibilities, and cry it will be done? I don’t think I’ll be around Moamba on November 6^th, and I can’t help feeling sceptical about the whole project, but I’d love to think that one day someone from Northern Synod will attend the grand opening of its new Presbyterian Church!

_________________

Crossing back I got into trouble (or at least got my Mozambican minders in trouble) by pointing my camera at the station. Apparently special permission is needed. But the story of the footbridge is worth retelling. It carefully crosses from the central platform to the right (Portuguese colonialist) side of the tracks – but there is no footbridge crossing to the side we had been walking through. People there didn’t really count as people. “About as bad as apartheid South Africa?” I suggested.  My hosts agreed – there was little to choose between them.

John Durell

Mozambique Blog 9

Never mind the stereotypes – the truth of the matter is that most things do work in Mozambique, or at least here in Maputo. While we’ve been here the few power cuts have scarcely lasted a minute. The expresso machine may have been broken in the café in the park, but they rustled up a surprisingly acceptable alternative. True you will often find taps from which no water seems to run – but once the householder is able to install the right system of storage tanks and pumps that problem can be overcome.

Of course there is the terrible problem of transport – one of the chief problems of the country, I guess. Just look at the crowds waiting for buses in the rush-hour, or look at the traffic jams that witness to the fact that the increasing level of car ownership is hardly getting anyone anywhere more quickly, and it may seem that my assessment is over-generous. But by and large things do work.

So I was more than a little disappointed when we moved into the guest house to find that for all the promise of free wifi I was unable to get on-line. What’s more, despite my gentle protestations, no one appeared to be doing anything to resolve the situation. But so what? – we’re in Mozambique. However, it seems that I was wrong. Suddenly, this weekend, I’m back on-line without any trips to the internet café. Someone was trying to get it fixed after all – and in the end they succeeded.

So for the first time in the nearly six weeks I’ve been here, I could start a proper blog – real stream of consciousness stuff rather than the considered and pre-prepared pieces I’ve been putting up every few days. But I think it’s too late now. However, for anyone who’s followed me so far, here’s a brief account of what’s been going on over the past few days.

Last weekend was dominated by the news that the projected visit by Mozambican young people to Northern Synod is off: once again the High Commission has refused visas, and frustratingly the applications went in so late that there is no time for any kind of appeal. So now we are wondering how we can learn from what has happened and find ways of getting a better result in the future.

So far as Hillian and I were concerned, the big event was the launch of the English language service, which I wrote about later in the week – but also we should record the fact that we had a little holiday. Our friend Inãcio came to Maputo looking for us, and after the Sunday afternoon service whisked us back to Xai-Xai in Gaza province for a couple of days. Inãcio was one of the first visitors to our synod back in 2004 – some may remember him as the guy who was videoing everything. When our group visited Mozambique a few weeks later we spent time in Xai-Xai, and were royally entertained by Inãcio and Estrela one evening – and ever since then they have been waiting for us to return.

We had a great time with them – and even though they were both busy working, they arranged a programme for us which managed to be both relaxing and instructive. It was good too to meet up with Meg Robb, halfway through her stint with Pastor Rosa at the Betlehem church – and Inãcio’s programme gave Meg opportunity to see more of the area than she might otherwise have done. So as well as enjoying lunch together on Xai-Xai beach and mooching round the central market (larger and yet more colourful than Maputo’s), we learned a good deal about the education system through a visit to an FE College equivalent, and had a fascinating insight into Mozambique’s provision of labour for the South African mines from Inãcio’s own boss.

It all went by too quickly, but duty beckoned – and Wednesday morning we were back in the classroom with our students. Now our final week lies before us, and somehow we are going to have to try to answer our students’ questions about the conditional tense, and how you know whether to use a simple past or the perfect, not to mention the other impossible things they will probably dream up in the next few days.

And then there is “our” final English language service next Sunday: and what will happen after that? Will the pastors on the ground pick it up and run with it? Doubting whether they will would, I suppose, betray a colonialist attitude, so I’m going to say “Of course the service will continue.” Remember, things do work in Mozambique.

John Durell

Mozambique blog 8

The African Games are coming to Maputo next month. Posters are up all over the city: it’s a big event evoking national pride. Out near the road to the north is the brand new stadium – looking pristine and complete when we passed through that way early last month, though there still seemed to be work to be done to complete the village. Even from the main road you can see the coloured seats spelling out the word Mozambique for all the world to see. Your view is a bit impeded however by all the street traders who have apparently been given notice to move on: the authorities are anxious that Mozambique should present only its prosperous side to the world at the grand opening on September 3^rd.

Beating them by a month, the English language service at Khovo was launched last Sunday. This was part of the reason for my coming to Mozambique this time: after conversations I had with various people in the Church during my sabbatical visit in 2006 I wrote a paper outlining how one of our ministers might consider spending a few weeks here training up a group of people to lead the English language service that so many people felt was needed in the city. Other churches are holding them, so why not the Presbyterians?

I didn’t realise at the time that I was writing my own job description, but that’s how it seemed to work out. So alongside the other things I’ve been involved in over the past five weeks I have been hoping that we could get working together on preparing for this service. But as is often the case in Mozambique, things did not work out quite as (I at least) planned. My suggestion for a group to work and train together seemed to be overlooked; and instead we found ourselves in the situation where Hillian and I were to be largely responsible for the three Sundays when we were still to be around the place.

However, I’m thankful that there does seem to be a genuine desire to continue the service after that. The consistory (elders’ meeting) has given its blessing, and a number of pastors have promised to get involved. And whereas the original case for the service was based on the number of English-speaking visitors to be found in Maputo each weekend, it has become clear that much of the support is coming from Portuguese speakers who are keen to use and develop their English. So there’s potentially something for everyone here.

The service was duly launched at 16.00 hrs on Sunday August 7^th, and is to take place each succeeding week. Pastor Felipe introduced us by reminding the congregation that worship had been held here for 124 years, but that this was the first occasion it was to be offered in English. His reference to the Day of Pentecost fitted in well with thoughts that I was going to share in the sermon; and if the hymns were perhaps not typical of Presbyterianism  as I know it, at least most of the growing congregation seemed to know them – which was a well, as there were only about a dozen copies of the words.

From the first two or three rows being filled at kick-off time, by the time I was preaching there must have been 70 or 80 people present, and I think over a hundred by the time we got to the blessing. In fact the blessing was never pronounced; for having sung that we were marching in the light of God, we were told by Pastor Felipe that a Memento of the Launch was being prepared. Hillian and I had to sign the book as the first leaders of the English service, after which everyone present was invited to process to the table and sign their names as witnesses to the occasion. And with our friend Inãcio waiting patiently to whisk us off for a couple of days in Xai-Xai, we never waited for the queue to come to an end.

So the English language Presbyterian service is now a fact of life. If you ever find yourself in Maputo at a weekend don’t forget it: Khovo Church at 16.00 hours. The consistory are think considering how to advertise it, but I think this blog may be the first bit of publicity it gets. As our own church noticeboards used always to say: Visitors welcome.

John Durell

Mozambique Blog 7

Amalia has just graduated, and proudly possesses a diploma in Planning and Business Management from the city’s university. She is the eldest of five children – the only girl among them; and we know enough about how IPM ministers are paid to realise that her parents must have made considerable sacrifices for her to have reached this stage.

Just a couple hours after Hillian arrived in Maputo on Saturday, we found ourselves as honoured guests at the wonderful gathering of family and friends called to celebrate Amalia’s achievement. It was an amazing mixture of praise, prayer and partying – with delicious food piled high on plates, and constant invitations to get up and help yourself to more.

Relying on ad hoc interpreters you are liable to miss the nuances, but it was impossible not to be moved by the obvious love between daughter and parents, and the gratitude and pride that marked their relationship. Whether an only daughter among boys would do as well in every family I don’t know, but here it was pretty clear that there were no gender considerations to hold Amalia back. Yet seeing the scale of the celebrations, it was hard not to wonder what challenges were being set for the younger brothers, and how equal their opportunities might turn out to be.

Several people have spoken to me about families lately. Generally they have been perplexed that we don’t seem to have families, or at least don’t want to come together as families. Our nuclear family pattern must seem strange and remote to people who, when you ask them about their family, don’t immediately tell you about wife and children,  but begin with possibly deceased parents, and then work their way through brother and sisters and wider affiliations. “Why don’t you get together as we do?” they’ve asked me, and feebly I’ve responded that we do sometimes, perhaps at times like Christmas or birthday, without going on to admit that in many cases such get-togethers are seen as occasions to instil dread, and best avoided at all costs. On Saturday, with all the singing and dancing, it was impossible to imagine that there could be anyone present who really didn’t want to be.

Another contrast with our big family gatherings, and I’m thinking particularly of weddings, was the confidence and indeed loquaciousness of all who had speaking parts. Admittedly I don’t have the Portuguese to judge the quality of the speeches, but I can testify that they all went without stumbling and hesitation – and with no apparent fear of using a radio mike that sent the speaker’s voice echoing half way across the city. Not many notes in sight either – and certainly no one glued to them. The prayers and the neighbouring pastor’s address as well as father’s wise words offered as he presented their daughter with a Bible all emphasised that these were celebrations offered in the context of the life of the Church – and it’s pretty clear that the IPM is a Church that helps its young people to develop confidence, both in the faith and in their own abilities.

Amalia has a well-earned diploma, but she is looking for work in a country where graduates have just the same problems finding work as ours do in the UK. But I understand that she already has the promise of an interview – and from watching and listening to her last Saturday, I sense that she may well have what it takes to show that those five years’ work were all worth the effort.

____________

Synod readers following our comings and goings may note that our hosts have been busy doing the airport run in recent days. Hillian arrived on Saturday, two days after Meg Robb, who was immediately driven to Xai-Xai in Gaza province for her leg of the exchange with Pastor Rosa. We hope that Rosa will be working with Meg in the East Cleveland group for a few weeks in September and October. Then on Monday Matthew left, after four weeks in and around Khovo – not to mention a few days in Chimoio with a young people’s group. Plenty to tell FURY members when he next meets up with them.

Hillian and I are now working in tandem on our conversational English classes for people working at Khovo, and plans are unfolding (a little belatedly for my taste) for a weekly English language service at the Khovo church: launch date this Sunday, August 7^th. Can anyone email me a stack of English hymn books??

John Durell

Mozambique Blog 6

One of the more animated moments of the synod meeting (now two weeks ago) came when the ministries committee presented their report. That the report had not reached delegates on time did not get things off to a good start – but the real excitement came with a throw-away line in the next-to-last paragraph to the effect that pastors’ wives would no longer be accepted for training for ministry.

The reasons offered for this seemingly harsh decision were pragmatic. The IPM is a small church, and it is difficult to place husband and wife teams so as to provide a real pastoral opportunity for both. But if one translator’s account of the quite short debate was accurate, there were some less nuanced things being said from the floor: are some women only looking to train because their friends have done so? A dissenting elder statesman of the church told me later that the right way would have been to agree to deal with each case on its merits, but synod seemed to want to lay the law down in a more definite and excluding manner.

I know of three married couples in the IPM ministry – out of some 50 or 60 working ministers. So the decision to go with the report seems a strange way to build up the ministry that the Church clearly needs if it is to expand as it hopes. However, one delegate who spoke to one of our guest colleagues assured him that the decision was what the women really wanted. A male voice, needless to say, and commenting on a debate where no women were heard. Despite the preponderance of women in the Sunday congregations, it’s men who make the decisions; and looking at the list of members of the Synod Council, it’s ordained men at that. I wonder who the ministries committee consulted as they drew up their report?

Over the past week I have been busy at Khovo setting up English lessons – and wishing I had more experience at this sort of thing. My intention of focusing on conversation has been hijacked by my students’ common desire to have everything written down: I come back from each lesson covered in chalk dust…. Education is taken extremely seriously in this country, and it seems that methods are pretty traditional. I hadn’t envisaged students sitting in rows at desks in front of a blackboard – but that’s how the little classroom is set out, and there’s little to be done about it.

In these mixed ability groups, it’s no surprise that the students with the better grounding in English are generally male. But the keenness and enthusiasm that some of the women, both young and older, have for learning are so striking, that I cannot believe that the Church will be able to hold them all back as it seems sometimes still to be doing.

One of the most vocal members of the class told us all the other afternoon “I have a dream to go to England and study at university”. She could not believe me when I told her how many universities there are in England, compared with the three state institutions in Mozambique – though there are several private ones as well. Needless to say, when I told her how much it costs students to go to university she began to revise her dream. But I think she and her colleagues will still have dreams, and show a personal determination to make things change. As that happens, I just hope that the Church does not get left behind.

John Durell

Mozambique Blog 5

What was Africa like before plastic chairs? I’m writing this up in a room where about a dozen of them are piled up in the corner – and there must be many more scattered over the whole Khovo (Church HQ) site. Plastic chairs featured prominently among gifts made to a retiring Youth Worker at Synod last week, and to a Pastor’s farewell service I attended at Tlhavna parish the previous Sunday.

Once answer I’ve received to my question is that they have made an immense and invaluable difference. They are to be found even in the most remote places, helping people to gather and communicate with one another. Schools, clinics, consultations, and all sorts of services function so much better simply because people can easily sit down together. I guess some of the church elders could offer a contrary case based on the comfort they also provide patrons of dubious drinking dens and the like, but generally they add to the richness of the shared life of Africa’s peoples.

And churches, of course, are full of the things. Not that everyone wants to use them: at Tlhavana I watched an elderly woman walk through the door on two crutches – the kind of person we would certainly offer a lift to, while half expecting that they make the decision that they were now too bad to come to church anymore. However, this feisty woman made her way to the front and on to the platform, where she unrolled a mat and slowly sat herself down on the floor,  disengaging the crutches and leaning back against the wall for the next three hours.

Most people, however, were happy to be sitting in a more western fashion. There were a few benches at the back, certainly well occupied, but not nearly enough to fill the church or provide for the needs of the growing congregation. I imagine benches cost a fair bit of money – and they must get in the way of serious singing and dancing. So a good half of the congregation were on plastic chairs. Sometimes the block of chairs stretched up to and even onto the platform. But then when the women’s group or the youth group or some other group came out to sing; or when the leaving pastor and her family were up on the platform and people were bringing gifts like a double bed and corrugated iron sheets to build a shelter, as well as those chairs….  well, then you moved the rows of chairs out the way, and cleared the space you needed for the next few minutes.

The plastic chair and the mobile phone must have changed the face of a continent between them. Pastors and others who can now keep in touch with the world and with one another will certainly give the prize to the mobile phone – but I reckon the plastic chair is a close runner up!

Mozambique Blog 4

Wednesday July 20

I suspect there’s a north/south divide in Mozambique very much like our own – except for the fact that the warmer weather is in the north. It’s the depth of winter here, of course, with maximum temperatures frequently below 20°, which people keep assuring us is very cold. So what it would feel  like for a synod delegate travelling down from Cabo Delgado Province you can hardly imagine. But don’t worry, because no one actually came from there.

So far as the Presbyterian Church is concerned, part of the reason for the division is history: the Portuguese authorities did not allow the Swiss Mission to operate beyond the three southernmost provinces. But once independence  was gained, the Church determined to have congregations in all eleven provinces, and for all the chaos of the time quite quickly succeeded. However, this has not destroyed the impression of its being a southern-based church.

Last week’s synod was mostly conducted in Portuguese – but apparently that is quite a new departure. Previously proceedings have been in the local languages of Shangana and Ronga, which although widely spoken will not be understood by most people in the north. Much of the worship and singing last week was in those local languages, even including the sermon on Sunday morning. I wonder how included that makes the delegate feel who has taken a 24 hour bus journey to get to Synod?

And when the Synod moves pastors around, as it does every five years, it’s more than likely that those who can be persuaded to go north (and I understand that there is some consultation in what seems like a pretty authoritarian process) won’t even be given language training. So they are left to speaking Portuguese, which only the middle class in the towns will be fluent in, or going round with an interpreter all the time. Hardly the best circumstances to operate in an area where evangelisation has been a declared priority!

Yesterday morning I had a long conversation with one of the five Pastors who are stationed in the four northern provinces which make up nearly half the land area of Mozambique. (I haven’t the means at hand to look up how many Wales’s or Belgiums that makes, but it must be a pretty fair number.) As President of the Northern Presbytery (those same provinces again) he reckons that journeys between churches vary from 100 to 700Kms. And the one car is barely in working order…..  It’s very hard for people from these parts not to launch into The Week’s Good Cause mode before they’ve finished the introductions. The lack of resources is so overwhelming that you’d try anyone to help you on a bit.

But I’m left wondering what the IPM itself is doing, and whether the strong Maputo base makes it hard for people to understand what life is like there. Of course it’s hard for them to go and see for themselves, and the expense of regular visits from the Centre could hardly be justified. But having made that facile comparison with our own north/south divide, I have to admit that it only takes a three hour comfortable train journey to get me to those meetings in the capital where all the important decisions are taken. A very different experience from Mozambique.

Here at Khovo where I’m based, the last couple of days has seen a gathering of the Pastors from the North, as they visit friends and relations in the big city, and also negotiate the purchase of bus tickets home. Just for these few days they’re at the centre of where it is all happening -  but then it’s going to be back to the parish and those poor roads and appalling distances and unreliable transport. My guess is that when the IPM Synod, like our Synod, starts talking about mission strategies and evangelism priorities, it probably knows that in fact the burden of the work is going to fall on the shoulders of the willing and dedicated few.

John Durell

News of the World

A reflection prepared for a staff meeting, St Andrew’s Dawson Street LEP, Crook - 15^th July 2011

 I spent yesterday having lunch at St Catherine’s Community Centre, Crook. Over a cup of tea I joined in a conversation about who might have won the EuroMillion jackpot of £161m pounds. Well last night it was reported that the lucky ticket holder had come forward. Regardless of their identity, the winning person or syndicate will hold a fortune ranked just below David and Victoria Beckham’s estimated wealth of £165million. But one winner has come forward. Retired couple Fred and Doreen Smith from Washington. They won just under £2.5m share of the Lotto Rollover jackpot drawn last Saturday. Their photograph with fizzy champagne was literally splashed across yesterday’s Journal. Mike Ashley’s big share windfall to staff of Newcastle United was announced yesterday too. Some 2,000 staff will get a share payout worth almost £88m in total. It equates to an average of £40,000 each, but combined with a payout for meeting the previous year's target, their awards are now worth an average £43,860.

Although not a betting man myself I think these are really wonderful, cheerful stories in a week of gloomy news about phone hacking. I remember the day like yesterday, when training for the ministry, a Building Society cheque for £1000 was pushed through my letter box. I heard on the radio last week of a man who took pity on a rather dishevelled and forlorn artist who was going from town to town trying to sell his paintings with no success. Whenever he came to this particular town the man would offer him hospitality, and the artist used to give him a painting as a way of saying thank you. The host put them in the attic and forgot about them. Years later, after both men had died and the house was being cleared, someone looked at the canvases and discovered that the artist was L S Lowry and the paintings were worth a fortune.

But isn’t life like that? I don’t suppose anyone would quite put it the way Cecil Rhodes did in the nineteenth century when he said: “Being born an Englishman is winning the first prize in the lottery of life.” But in one sense life is a chance - it is a lottery – it is unpredictable – as the spectators at the Open Golf Championship at Sandwich are beginning to realise. A lottery because none of us chooses when and where to be born or what postcode we might end up living. A postcode that will give access to education, economic and medical opportunities – or not as the case maybe.

Into the cathedral bookshop on Monday came Amiel Osmaston. I recognised her straightaway. We last met 36 years ago in Kenya and then only briefly for a month; we met at a bible study group run by a couple of CMS Sudan missionaries who had left Juba during the civil war, being temporarily housed in Mombasa. We talked a lot about former times, our faith journeys - Amiel is a Canon of Carlisle Cathedral, diocesan ministry and development officer. We talked about how the face of Sudan is being changed into a new country - the Republic of South Sudan - born out of generations of conflict and suffering;  it is estimated that a million and a half people might have died in the civil war, and now some ten million people are now at risk across East Africa after the worst drought in sixty years.

It matters little how much we are worth in financial terms, with a lottery win, an inheritance, savings, what is stored in the attic. But it does matter to God how we use our wealth, our filthy lucre, our inheritance, for as we say in our prayers – “all things come from you and of your own to we give you.”  We can define our world as we will, shrink it to whatever excites, amuses or keeps us comfortable and exclude images which unsettle us. But as human beings we can also define our world with a leap of imagination and faith, to see the world from a very different perspective. According to the Bible, God offers the potential to discover it as it’s meant to be. He sets out his intention in Jesus, giving himself to make new beginnings possible in the most desperate of situations and for the unlikeliest of people, often with meagre resources. And he invites us as ministers of the kingdom to share in the process; he gives us the resources – sometimes money - to do so.

Those making significant sacrifices and changes to our community and our world are those who give their time and money, for example at St Catherine’s Community Centre across the road, who give small and substantial donations to humanitarian causes. And as often as it is not, it is the hidden legion of men and women of goodwill and peace who work quietly to bring the vision of the kingdom of God into being, like missionaries returning to work in the new country of the Southern Sudan, bringing it into reality, with all its future economic and humanitarian needs. Such efforts don’t usually make much of a tabloid splash. But I think this is the news of the world that really does matter. The building of the kingdom of God is the News of the World.

Psalm 125: Mark 12:13-17

Ray Anglesea is a self supporting minister working in St Andrew’s Dawson Street LEP, Crook and in the wider West Durham Methodist Circuit

Mozambique Blog (3)

Sunday July 17th

“Is our Synod like your own?” is the question people kept asking me. “What are the differences from your own?”  “Are our ways different from yours?”

The four-day Synod of the Presbyterian Church of Mozambique came to an end earlier today, with much singing and dancing by an open-air congregation that must have totalled around 2,000. It is of course the Synod meeting of the whole Church, and so is really to be compared with our General Assembly, although in size it is only a little larger than our own Northern Synod meeting. But like General Assembly, people come from all over the country, and there is lots of enthusiastic meeting up of people who may not have seen each other since last Synod, or even longer.

But how to answer the question? After a day or so I quite forgot to say anything about the singing and dancing (which I think is probably what was expected of me). Yes of course that is different – but it quickly goes without saying. No one comes up to present a report without singing the first line of a song which everyone will immediately join in; and we know that there will be two or three occasions in each session when everyone will be up on their feet and swaying. It’s hardly worth noting that the main difference from our meetings is that this one happens to be run by African Christians in Africa.

So I found myself saying that in fact we have quite a lot in common. We both worry about resources, and seem not to have enough to do the things that we want (or that we think God wants us) to do. And maybe we’re both mistaken there. And I heard voices crying out for real  evangelism in which Christians really look outside the church instead of sheltering inside it. Familiar or not? And I suppose the opening procession bore some resemblance to our traditional Parade of the Moderators at General Assembly, though here it’s all the Pastors who process, and in Genevan gowns and tabs – though I imagine the hodgepodge of styles might disturb those of our brethren and sisters who like that sort of thing.

But dare I speak openly of the differences? I did with some who seemed to want me to be honest. Debating at great length trivial matters like the style of the delegates’ registration card (which has to last five years) seemed a terrible waste of Synod’s time: surely a committee could have processed that? And nearly the last item of business, deciding where the one-day autumn synod should be held, was taken absolutely cold, and as one delegate pointed out, it seemed that those who shouted loudest were the winners. So there were times when you felt the need for a Mozambican James Breslin to see that business was executed briskly, and without doubt or ambiguity. But generally this Church is getting its act together. Some of the troubles of recent years are being ironed out by a Verification Committee which has responsibility to see that decisions made by Synod are in accord with the new Church constitution and also the law of the land. Serious stuff – but it was clearly needed, and now it is happening it seems to be well received.

But for all the serious stuff and hard work, being at the Synod was a great experience and great fun! The general hospitality of the host parish was magnificent: cooked meals (served under canvas) at lunch and in the evening, and special and sometimes embarrassing care for their guests from outside the country. I enjoyed the game of trying not to get forced to use the special guests’ loo (which involved disturbing women who were busy in the kitchen) – but it was hard not get shouted at as you made your way to the perfectly clean and adequate “common” facilities. At meal times we were invariably pushed to the front of the queue, and given seats of honour.  More important, we non-Portuguese speakers were provided with translators throughout the sessions, who not only helped us to understand what was going on, but also were able to share opinions and give us a broader sense of opinion within the Church.

It’s been a great time too for meeting up with people again. Armando arrived from Chimoio yesterday; and this morning I was saved from making a fool of myself in the offertory procession by Ignatio from Xai-Xai, who’d heard us greeted and came to the front to greet me personally. Lazaro, and Naftal from Ricatla, have been two of our faithful and efficient translators; and Amos Zita (like me now retired, but more deserving I suspect) did one session too. I’ve enjoyed conversations with people like Jonas Ngomane, and Pastor Carlos from Zobue, as well as individuals I’d already met up with again over the past ten days in and around Khovo – and a good number of people I met at Synod for the first time, but I hope not the last. And I should mention that Matthew has been faithfully sitting through every session, not meeting any young people as was vaguely promised, but looking forward now to a trip with a parish youth group going north in the next couple of days.

I had five minutes or so Friday morning to speak and bring greetings from everyone in Northern Synod, and assure them that this Partnership has real meaning to us all. I just hope it does – and I realise that it’s up to those of us who are enthused by it to try and enthuse others and get everyone involved. I hope that the rest of the time I have here may give me some opportunities to explore with IPM people ways in which we can try to do this.

But first of all, after four days of early rising and long day sessions – time for what I feel is a well-deserved sleep.

John Durell

Mozambique blog

José has an aphorism which he brought back from a recent  visit to Switzerland (the IPM has its origins in the Swiss Mission): “The Swiss has a watch, but the African has time.” It may not be original – I’m told the Taliban recently said the same about the Americans and themselves. But it’s still quite telling – although I remain an unrepentant watch-wearer.

Saturday was one of those frustrating days that happen from time to time. We had the promise of a guided tour of Maputo, but the guide failed to turn up at the appointed time. When he did appear, we were about to eat lunch, so he promised to come back in another half hour. After two hours I gave up. But maybe he had the time for something else.

On the other hand, although I may keep looking at my watch, I am not constantly connected to my mobile phone, as many people here are. There was a “no mobiles” notice glued to the pillar in church this morning, but they were certainly in peoples’ hands in the vestry before the service, and were ringing as soon as it finished. And in what is a very unregulated society compared with ours, they are of course in constant use on car journeys, by passengers and driver alike. People who have time seem not to be able to suggest that now is not the best time.

But the value of having time , rather than being tied to time, was seen in a service like this morning’s at the Presbyterian Church at  Tshavana. We got underway at about 9.15 (I imagine it was programmed for 9 o’clock), and were only shaking hands outside at a quarter to two. What came in between embraced the usual liturgical fare (quite a brief sermon) and a couple of “specials”. The congregation, which has grown from practically nothing over the eleven years of its existence is now trying to get out of the fairly constricted shop that houses it, and put up a new purpose-built church. Today was one of the monthly occasions for people from each of the zones (a bit like cell groups perhaps) to bring the money they’d pledged, and hear that they are now close to being able to purchase the land.

But the main “extra” was a presentation to the previous pastor, who left the parish about a year ago. This is the way they do things: say goodbye only when you’re well and truly gone. I suppose it combats that dread that our churches have of a minister changing their mind and deciding not to go after all; but it must be strange for the new minister in post to hear all the wonderful things about their predecessor, and wonder whether or not they’re reckoned to be shaping up to such high standards. Each of the groups in the church made their own speeches and presentation – all accompanied of course with song. The a capella singing was as wonderful as ever – and the gifts all magnificent, from cooking pots to blankets, and from a mattress and bed to three sheets of corrugated iron for a canopy.

Sitting on my wooden bench, relying on an interpreter, I admit that it felt a long session. But for everyone else in the church, I am sure that the morning flew by. Hardly anyone left before it ended, when I had the privilege of giving the final blessing – which the congregation had been warned would not be translated!  Here were people who simply had time – time to worship God, time to find joy in one another’s company, and time and generosity to assured a well-loved pastor that her work among them and the gifts she had shared with them would not be forgotten. And the variety of gifts she struggled home with certainly didn’t include a watch.

John Durell

Mozambique

Friday July 8

It’s five years since I’ve been here – and Yes, I’m proudly telling everyone, it’s my third time in Mozambique. I’m here first of all for next week’s Synod meeting of the Presbyterian Church of Mozambique (IPM), our synod’s global partner. Matthew Appleyard, who travelled with me, has come at the invitation of the Church to learn more about their youth work. These first days since our arrival on Tuesday have been mainly settling in – but they’ve given me opportunity to see that some things have changed over recent years.

Getting off the plane is the first thing: walking straight into the terminal rather than down the steps and out into the near tropical heat. (Though as it happens just now the heat is somewhat lacking: it was hotter at Heathrow when we left.) Now you quickly find yourself in a large and well-appointed arrivals hall where the visa queues are much less intimidating than I remember from last time – all part of the airport development undertaken, I’m told, by the Chinese. There’s plenty of building going on in and around the city centre – and again, the most significant appears to be Chinese.

Church officials are busy preparing for next week’s Synod: this is the annual meeting of the whole church, to which people in true Biblical fashion will come from the north and the south. In fact, they will all come to the south: Mozambique is a vast country, but the capital Maputo is at the southernmost tip, and as well as being the most populous area, it’s by far the area of greatest strength of the IPM. We are staying at the Church headquarters at Khovo; and following a series of preparation meetings on Wednesday, Ernesto Langa and José Tovela found time to take us on a tour around the city yesterday morning – in the vehicle which Northern Synod purchased three years ago.

At Matthew’s request we drove out to see the new stadium, built to host the African Games later this year – built, needless to say, by the Chinese. It’s a fair way out of town, dominating everything around, and linked in with the Games Village which, true to form, looks as if the builders are going to be busy till the very last minute. The road along the coast and down to the harbour is as attractive as ever, with the old concrete shell of the colonial era hotel at last removed, and apparently ready for a replacement – to add to the large number of new hotels now opening closer to the downtown area. The traffic everywhere is infinitely worse than I remember from earlier visits; and Mark, who is staying at the Khovo guesthouse with us, reckons that the Government is to blame for the way in which the bus companies have been pressurised into cramming passengers in ever more tightly, reducing the quality of the service and encouraging more and more cars onto the roads.

It’s been good to meet up with people again: José and Ernesto of course, and also Ernesto’s wife Argentina who was part of the first group who visited us in 2004, and stayed with us in Durham. Then Carlos Banza whom we met in Xai-Xai on the first return visit the same year (he’s now head of the Church’s Evangelism Department), and also Reinaldo Sive who looked after me so well when I spent four weeks here during my sabbatical in 2006. Others too who made us welcome in the past, and whom it’s a real joy to meet up with again. And I know there will be more meetings up next week at the Synod: Armando Chihale who was such a good interpreter for us in 2004, and whom Hillian and I visited in Chimoio in 2006, has emailed me to promise that he will be at the Synod meeting and looking out for me.

So Synod next week is the first part of the visit so far as I’m concerned. But I’m hoping there will be specific work to undertake in the time I’m here after that, and am hoping in the next few days for some meetings to be set up so that we can start to plan how I can best use that time so as to strengthen our Global Partnership.

John Durell

A Wedding Muddle

Ray Anglesea discovers marriages may be a mine field for the minister

The recent Royal Wedding in Westminster Abbey may have appeared reasonably straight forward to the adoring billion fans. Not so the wedding I was recently involved in.

The civil ceremony took place in a theatre. I had thought the bride and groom, dear longstanding friends, had invited me to take part in their “service” as they insisted on calling it because I was a “minister of religion.” I had after all history: I had preached at the bride’s sister’s church wedding and baptised one of her babies. However on checking with the local registrars I was informed by the presiding official that bible readings, prayers, religious symbols of any kind including candles were not allowed and strictly prohibited. I had to settle for reading a non-religious poem.

I was rather taken aback; I could imagine there may well have been “God” difficulties in a civil ceremony I attended a couple of years ago when dear friends, a Christian and a Muslim, had married, but the idea that the church has a monopoly on light appeared to me, at least on Easter Saturday, Easter Eve, an interesting one - “extra ecclesiam nulla salus” (outside the church there is no salvation). That, it seems, is the present view of the state, as well of the church, when it comes to state/civil weddings – and civil partnerships too. 

But to all this, the Government is threatening to add yet more confusion. We can have church wedding with God; state weddings without God: same sex civil partnerships without God – to which may soon be added same- sex civil partnerships with God; and perhaps more?

The first ceremonies under the Civil Partnership Act took place in December 2005, Elton John and David Furnish paved the way on December 21, 2005 at the historic Guildhall,  Windsor. The act accords people in same-sex relationships the same sort of rights and responsibilities that are available to married couples. However, the current law on state weddings as well as same-sex civil partnerships, as I discovered on Easter Saturday, prohibits religious elements. Campaigners point out that this means that whereas a mixed-sex couple can choose between a civil or religious wedding, same-sex couples are denied this choice.

The Coalition Government has admitted that there is an imbalance between civil partnerships and civil marriage and are currently seeking ways to address this anomaly. It is proposed that religious civil partnerships be permitted and those who wish to do so can have their same-sex civil partnerships performed in religious buildings. Naturally faith groups are split about the proposal. Unitarians, Quakers and Liberal Jews are up for it while the Church of England and Roman Catholics are opposed. Last February, the leader of the Liberal Democrats and deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg stated “I support gay marriage. Love is the same, straight or gay, so the civil institution should be the same, too. All couples should be able to make that commitment to one another.” Marriage equality, I understand, is now adopted  official party policy.

But if all this current legislation appears confusing then there is yet further complications  – the religious press has in recent weeks reported the journeys of eight British couples who have submitted cases to the European Court of Human Rights: Four gay couples want to get married; four heterosexual couples want to enter civil partnerships. Their present inability to do these things, they say, is sexual apartheid – arguing that there is one law for heterosexual partners, another for  gay couples.    

Still confused? In a dramatic development on 2^nd March last year, the House of Lords voted to allow the use of religious premises and religious language in same-sex partnerships. Peers voted in favour of the proposal by 95 votes to 21, despite opposition from the government and several Church of England bishops. The proposal, which takes the form of an amendment to the Equality Bill, was put forward by Waheed Alli, who is a gay Muslim and a Labour peer. The move will result in an amendment to the Equalities Bill which would allow, though not compel, religious organisations to host civil partnerships. Religious language would also be permitted within the ceremonies. The amendment has yet to be approved by the House of Commons, but it is predicted that it is unlikely that MPs would make any significant changes to it.

How are we to pick our way through this minefield of religious and political correctness when religious people are divided in so many different and complex ways? To reconcile issues of justice and freedom here, it is probably best, says Paul Vallely, associate editor of The Independent and a leading British writer on ethical, cultural and political issues, to resort to the principle that “any changes should be permissive, not compulsory.” I suspect the vocabulary may be the easy part.

A permissive approach might suggest that straight and gay couples should be allowed to use the Bible, hymns and prayers in their civil ceremonies. The word of God is not copyright and people should be encouraged to use it. And should same- sex ceremonies be allowed in church? If a minister and congregation are happy -, then certainly.

But while we wait for the Equality Bill to be considered and amended a possible permissive approach will have to be put on hold before my other four weddings later this year.  The wedding of two Roman Catholic friends on the eve of the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge together with my eldest son’s summer wedding seem reasonably straightforward, but not so the other two weddings: two Christian friends have surprisingly opted for a civil ceremony thereby omitting God; while the other consists of a fascinating authorised Church of England Betrothal Ceremony, prior to a Japanese wedding between a Christian and a member of the Shinto faith.

Ray Anglesea is a self supporting minister currently working across synod church partnerships.  May 2011