Dec 16, 2024 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
Ministering from the space between
Ben Martin encourages us to understand that being ‘lay’ is not second best or a vocational ‘waiting room’, but an important calling in itself.
[This article is from our Winter 2024 back issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
On March 27th, 2014, I was sitting in my living room in Chesterfield fighting back tears after the phone call came from the Assistant Diocesan Director of Ordinands. The letter from my Bishops Advisory Panel had come back, and it was a ‘not recommended’. He couldn’t understand it, and neither could I. Trying to explain this to my wife was heartbreaking. I had felt a call to the Church of England at 19 years old, and this was the path! She had left her church tradition to support me as I discerned my vocation, and I had failed.
Ten years later, almost to the day, and I was licensed as a Licensed Lay Minister (Reader); four months into my new role as Lay Ministries Officer for the Diocese of Derby.
So, what changed? Well, as is typical of the way in which the Holy Spirit works in our lives, it not only took time but a series of events which gradually shifted the way in which I think not only about vocation, but also about ministry and the Church of England.
The Company of Pioneers
When I first moved to the Diocese of Derby in September 2012 it was to begin working for and with The Order of the Black Sheep, one of the first twenty Bishops’ Mission Orders. Reverend Mark Broomhead, who was leading the community, invited me to join him at a gathering of pioneers from across the diocese, known as the Company of Pioneers. The make-up of the group was primarily ordained, with just two lay people: myself, and a Church Army officer. This company had a shifting membership especially with curates coming in and out, but one thing remained the same: from 2012 until it stopped gathering during the pandemic, I was the only lay member without a licence.
Something else remained the same, however: an attitude, specifically, my acceptance by ordained colleagues. None of them looked down on me, or thought that my voice was less valuable because of my lay-ness (or my age!). They genuinely valued me, listened to what I had to say, and encouraged my ministry. There was difference between us, but not that of superior knowledge or experience. It was a difference that settled me. I felt at home, not because I was with people I wanted to be like, but because I was with fellow ministers who held a particular sense of sacramental call.
I battled with my desire to be ordained. What was it about sacramental ministry particularly which so captivated me? The conclusion I came to was this: Why am I not allowed to do that?
Liminal space
As I moved away from Chesterfield towards the north of the diocese to Derby towards the south, I became increasingly interested in liminality and its interaction with theology and my own emerging understanding of Anglican ecclesiology. I tend to describe liminality as ‘the space between spaces’. The origin of the word comes from the Latin ‘limen’, meaning ‘threshold’. As a result, I grew fascinated by the narthex (entrance porch) of St Alkmund’s, the church where I was working. I recall standing in the middle of it; out of the corner of one eye I could see through the glass doors towards the estate opposite, and out of the corner of the other eye I could see the cavernous space we call the ‘worship area’, with the huge communion table on the dais. This physical space, between the wider community and the worshipping community, felt to me like home, albeit a slightly uncomfortable one.
We moved our Sunday evening service into this space as a symbolic gesture that we were not to be shut away, but that our worship took place on the threshold, the space between ‘the church’ and ‘the world’. It was in that space where we discovered the Spirit-filled discomfort of the inbetween. Silence was interrupted with noise (and occasionally police sirens), unexpected friendships began, and new people joined.
We eventually outgrew the narthex, so I made the decision to move back into the worship area. Looking back, it was a shift to comfort. We tried to make the space feel different with big umbrellas, gazebos and lights, but the consequence was a separation between those who felt more affinity with one space than the other. And, as ought to be expected, the ‘inherited’ won out.
The young lads who had been coming effectively became a youth group in the hall on the other side of the church, becoming separate from the worshipping community.
It was easy to see how people struggled to exist in that liminal space, on the threshold between ‘the world’ and ‘the church’, but increasingly I found myself needing to lead in that space, and encourage others to occupy it with me. Not presiding at the communion table, but dwelling in the space between church and world. The space which the laity occupy.
Contentment and identity
The Church of England is a clerical church. Or is it? I want to argue that we must rethink the narrative of our ecclesiology. Unfortunately, this argument can often be misinterpreted as an attempt to undermine the three-fold order of ordained ministry: Bishops, Priests (Presbyters), and Deacons. This is far from the truth. I absolutely affirm this order – I wouldn’t be an Anglican if I didn’t! However my concern with the narrative is that the threefold order of ordained ministry has become something for people to aspire to. As it had become for me.
The nature of being lay – a common member of Christ’s body – felt, for me, not enough. I wanted to be more. However, the vocation journey for me so far has been one of realisation. Realising that my discontentment with being lay was not a call from God, but a practical response to a social phenomenon, I began to understand that vocation to ordained ministry was not a higher call, simply a different and distinct one. To be distinctively lay, which by virtue of our mutual baptism we are, means to be distinctively Christian. The call of the Laity is not to aspire to ordination, but to be the people of God in the world, seeking His kingdom first, sharing in the prophetic, priestly, and kingly ministry of Christ. And our call as Readers is to be leaders, teachers, and enablers from that place.
When we preach, not from chairs or pulpits but from the lectern, it is a privilege. We stand in a place that our ordained colleagues cannot, in the fullness of our persistent calling as ordinary people of God, with the ordinary people of God. Lay is not a vocational waiting room, for it is in the ordinary places and spaces where the Holy Spirit moves, waiting for us to join in. As we, as lay ministers of all shapes and sizes teach, enable, and lead, may we do so in the confidence that Christ has not called us to second best but has called us to the richness of our current vocation.
Ben Martin is an LLM and Warden of Lay Ministries in Derby Diocese, and a member of the CRC Advisory Group.
[This article is from our Winter 2024 back issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
Aug 12, 2023 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
When your vacancy eventually ends, the problems won’t necessarily all go away. Or they may be replaced by new ones. Timothy Lee encourages us to be flexible in our thinking.
[This article is from our Summer 2023 back issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
A new incumbent arrives – it’s a particularly difficult time for Readers or Lay Ministers. The new incumbent has so much to think about. The Reader’s needs may not seem all that important in the grand scheme of things. Often she or he has been virtually carrying the church in the vacancy. Suddenly we feel sidelined, and no-one seems to have noticed. It might look a bit like this.
Difficult adjustments
Clive has been a Reader for twenty years at St John’s, now licenced as Lay Minister. His preaching is respected. After a long vacancy, the parish now has a new young incumbent, Reverend Becca. Throughout the vacancy Clive and the other LLM, Sue, kept services going at St John’s, and found priests for eucharistic services. Clive looked after the family services. Sue took care of most of the others in the church as well as services in the local care home. Now Becca has arrived, she has taken the lion’s share of preaching. While Sue is content to work with the older people, Clive has found himself almost left out of the rota, preaching mainly at evensong. Then there is St Jude’s. St Jude’s is a traditional country church that the bishop asked Revd Becca to take on. Apparently they have not had a vicar for a long time and, the word is, they are ‘a bit of a handful’. Sue is alright about going there but Clive feels his place is at the main services at St John’s, as he is well known there. He is annoyed that Becca has barely mentioned his hard work in the vacancy, and she doesn’t seem interested in his ministry now. He doesn’t think she really understands the way they do things at St John’s. She seems really slow to get going as well. He has been talking to people about her and several seem to share his concern.
From another viewpoint
Let us take a look at the situation from Revd Becca’s perspective. She had a wonderful time as a curate, and couldn’t wait to get her own parish. St John’s shows great promise for family services – numbers have grown since she arrived. Apart from Clive, most of the leadership team are very supportive of her. Her old incumbent told her just to listen and observe for the first six months, and try to really understand things before making any big changes. The bishop asked her to take on St Jude’s because of a reorganisation. Apparently there was a problem with their previous vicar – many people there seem still to be very hurt by what happened. St Jude’s seems to demand a lot of her time and prayers. But St John’s is the town church with many young families, so it will have to take priority. After four months, Becca feels she is only just beginning to understand the scale of task confronting her. It is so very different from being a curate. But she has just started on the diocesan incumbency training course, and she now has a peer group of other new incumbents to share ideas with. She has two Lay Ministers. Sue is a dream, so helpful, she has been down to St Jude’s, bringing love and calm. What a blessing. Clive … well – he only wants to preach at St John’s. He really seems to have a high opinion of his own preaching – but his gifts are really not with young families. He would probably be fine at St Jude’s. But he seems contemptuous of their faith and tradition, and refuses to go. Apparently he is stirring up trouble with a few of his friends. We seem to be having problems all round! So how might things have been different?
Imagine if …
What if when Revd Becca arrived, Clive had noticed her style was different – how, he wonders, does she ‘tick’? We can understand more about personalities through Myers Briggs, the Enneagram or the Insights colours:
- ‘Fiery Red’ people are positive, assertive, decisive, deal quickly with the present situation.
- ‘Sunshine Yellow’ – are creative, social, expressive and have masses of ideas.
- ‘Earth Green’ – are calming, sharing, patient, focus on caring and growing relationships.
- ‘Cool Blue’ – are cautious, analytical, use logic, plan things carefully, and think before they act.
You can view more on Insights colours on YouTube.
But we have to understand ourselves first. How well do you know yourself? How do others see you?
For by the grace given to me I say to every one among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgement, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. (Romans 12: 3).
Becca is clearly different from the last incumbent. Clive decides to pray for her. He begins to notice her strengths, her gifts. She is attracting new families to the family service. Her preaching is actually not bad. She seems to know what she is doing. He arranges a meeting with her. He talks about the vacancy and his working agreement, and what he likes doing best. She listens patiently. She explains her priorities – and about St Jude’s. That is quite an eye opener for Clive. Sensing the need, he offers to go and preach there. When he goes there, he is warmly welcomed – to his great surprise – and his sermon goes down well. After a few weeks of this he begins to realise they do indeed have a faith, perhaps more often expressed in deeds rather than words. He gets a book on rural ministry and starts to understand them a bit more. Clive and Becca work together on a plan to restore confidence at St Jude’s. Becca really appreciates his contribution; at the same time Clive is sensing a new direction in his ministry.
- Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust.
- Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul. (Psalm 143: 8).
A new incumbent can bring huge challenges to Readers and LLMs. Our needs may not be top priority in the great scheme of things, but our ministry and gifts are valued more than we may realise. The first need for Readers and LLMs in this is prayer, openness and positive engagement – not moping on the sidelines. At such times we stand at a crossroads in our personal journey: where is God calling us now?
Timothy Lee is an LLM (Reader) in Chelmsford Diocese.
Apr 12, 2023 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
[This article is from our Summer 2023 back issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
Alan Stanley puts forward a vision for the future.
There are, of course, many models for lay-led churches. The question for Anglicans and others with either episcopal or an equivalent ecclesiology is how to develop a lay led church without resorting to a congregational model.
As we mature, we add experience to the original ‘deposit of faith’ and it changes us – changes how we think, speak, act and pray. We learn that faithfulness does not involve circling the waggons to defend our position against attack, but willingness to step out ‘beyond’, following the God who goes before us.1
Let us take an imaginary parish church, All Saints, which is without an incumbent.
A confident congregation
The diocese is one with a wealth of lay training which All Saints has benefited from over many years. It has a couple of people who are confident to lead a home study group, an informal pastoral care group which also looks after bereaved people, and a reasonably resourced but small group of people who love working with children and young people. A few people from All Saints have attended diocesan courses which have led to them being authorised as pastoral assistant, worship leader and occasional preacher, and there is in place one Licenced Lay Minister and one in training.
The diocese has also provided training for churchwardens, PCC secretaries, intercessors and church treasurers, all of which the various post holders have attended. Since the last incumbent left, the churchwardens have held monthly meetings with the other PCC officers, the LLM, children and youth leader and the pastoral assistant. This group has provided leadership on day-to-day matters with the more strategic decisions being discussed by the PCC. The churchwardens have been able to consult the area dean and the archdeacon for matters which are either beyond their remit or on which they need guidance. Services of Holy Communion, baptism and marriage have been arranged with local or diocesan clergy through a contact list provided by the diocese. Funerals have mostly been taken by the LLM.
The All Saints’ congregation is used to having a service of Holy Communion on two Sundays each month, their previous incumbent being shared with another parish. With the support of the lay worship leader, occasional preacher, the All Age Worship team and the LLM, this pattern of needing a visiting priest to take Communion services, along with baptisms and weddings, was sustainable. The congregation was understanding if visiting clergy could not be found for two Sundays a month and were happy to drop to one Communion a month when necessary. Permission has just been granted for the LLM to take a Public Worship with Communion by Extension service when a priest cannot be found.
The work of the pastoral visitors continues, and the pastoral assistant convenes regular support meetings, as do the children and youth team leader. The worship leader and occasional preacher have been meeting for some time as a small peer support group convened by the LLM, and the home study group leaders join the leadership group once a term to discuss the direction the group should take.
The diocese runs a Leading Your Church into Growth course, and the archdeacon has invited All Saints to send two members to the next one. Two volunteers have been found, and the church is gradually adopting their suggestions.
All Saints has not ended up in the happy position of being able to sustain its own life by chance. Its previous incumbent knew that one day she would leave, and that cuts in diocesan budgets meant she would probably not be replaced by an equivalent minister, so she had planned and worked for the time when the church would have to be self-sufficient.
What is missing from the life of All Saints? It has a connection with the wider Church through the area dean, archdeacon, and visiting clergy. It is nourished by episcopal ministry through the support provided by the diocese for its wide variety of ministries. Its ministry is episcopally controlled. This is primarily through the churchwardens, who are officers of the bishop. The bishop’s oversight is strengthened in depth through episcopal authorisation of the pastoral assistant, worship leader and occasional preacher and the licensing of its LLM. The saints are in effect equipped for their ministry by the work of the bishop through the diocesan training team, so are truly an episcopally-led church, which is fulfilling the injunction in Ephesians (4: 12–13).
Challenges
However, All Saints does face a number of challenges. The duties and responsibilities of the churchwardens are enshrined in law and are very wide ranging (one diocese lists eighty-three of them in its guidance to wardens!)2 and it is not clear that anyone will be willing to take on the load when the current wardens retire. The PCC had been hoping to install screens so that printed service material could be reduced, and to replace the pews with chairs so that the nave could be used for community activities as well as worship. However, the difficult and lengthy process to get diocesan approval for these changes, plus the potentially heavy legal consequences if the church does not follow the procedure accurately, has placed something of a dampener on these ambitions.
One of the biggest challenges that the PCC faces is in moving from a hierarchical pattern of leadership to a flat and collaborative one. Everything that it has experienced so far in the church has been predicated on the pyramid model, including the previous incumbent’s work to make the church self-sustaining. One of the churchwardens is an entrepreneur who has successfully founded and grown a number of small businesses using a flat management model. This, she found, really helped everyone in the business to feel deeply involved and confident to work passionately and with minimum supervision in their own particular area. She is acutely aware that some of the most successful companies like Amazon and Google have this sort of flat management system. She would like to introduce this model to the life of the church but feels frustrated at the constant clashing with the pyramid model where every initiative has to be sent up the line for approval. This recently came to a head in discussion with the diocese about the screens, pews and chairs, when the overwhelming sense was that some remote level in the pyramid would need to make decisions which, in her experience, should be made at local level.
She is aware that in her many years in the commercial world, management and leadership patterns have changed over time. When she ran her first business, she was the boss, and everyone did what she decided. The lessons she learnt from the bursting of the dot.com bubble in the mid 1990s totally changed her subsequent leadership style. She moved her business from what she now thinks of as a dead-handed majestic monolith into small, nimble units that could respond rapidly to changing opportunities. She abandoned the old organisational charts and replaced them with interaction charts. Most of the more successful companies that she did business with had also recognised the many disadvantages of the pyramid structure. This made working with others much more creative.
The contrast between her working environment, where good communication, making friends not enemies, innovation and reinventing the way people work together produced team commitment and dedication, and how as a churchwarden she is required to relate to the diocese and the parish is huge. She will not be disappointed when her term of office ends.
Afterword
All Saints has been operating (in my dreams) as a lay-led church for five years now. The leadership team consists of two wardens who between them keep an eye on fabric and finance, a member for each of the children and youth teams, the pastoral visiting and worship leader’s teams and the Reverend Sue. Sue is a self-supporting minister who, in return for free housing, gives the equivalent of two days plus two Sundays a month to the parish. Sue has been given a brief by the whole team to spend time praying and being available for people. She has been asked to keep her parish diary as light as possible.
Sue has found that she is often approached by people from both the congregation and the community for advice and prayer. Numbers in the fellowship groups and Sunday services have been gradually rising. The leadership team believes that growth through relationships has happened as a direct result of the leadership, and through it the whole church, being relational not hierarchical. The most important incremental decision facing the leadership team now is how to refresh its membership without losing the trust that has developed between them.
The fundamental question which All Saints seems to have answered in a pragmatic way, is ‘Is the church defined by her ordained ministry or the ordained ministry defined by the church?’ Vatican II points us to the latter by designating ministry as service. The Roman Catholic theologian Peter Neuner pithily points out the implications of this:
A service can be defined only in the light of that which it has to serve, for the sake of which it is there. That means that the ministry is defined in terms of the church, and not the church in terms of the ministry.3
All Saints has defined the ministry of leadership in terms of its whole community, not in terms of one ordained person. Will the Church of England ever have the courage to follow the aptly named All Saints?
Alan Stanley is an LLM in the Elmete Trinity Benefice, Leeds Diocese. He is also a part-time prison chaplain.
References
- J P Williams, J P, Seeking the God Beyond: A Beginner’s Guide to Christian Apophatic Spirituality. London: SCM Press, 2018, p.42.
- Lichfield, accessed at: https://ecclawsoc.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/Churchwardens-Induction-Handbook-2017.docx
- Neuner, P, ‘Ministry in the Church: changing identity’. In: Kerkhofs, J (ed) Europe Without Priests? London: SCM Press, 1995, p.130.
Feb 27, 2023 | Extra Articles (For everyone)
At the beginning of March in 1633, sorrow came to the people of Bemerton on the outskirts of Salisbury. Their rector George Herbert, a committed pastor who had not yet reached his 40th birthday, died of consumption.
Today, Herbert is remembered as one of the greatest devotional poets in the English language. Some of his verses (such as ‘Teach me my God and King’) have been set to music as hymn lyrics, but there are many more. Poetry was how Herbert expressed his faith and talked to God. His poems can be used as prayers in much the same way as the Psalms can.
This little poem – with its three stanzas focusing on Creator, Redeemer and Inspirer, has the title ‘Trinity Sunday’. But it is also a poem of penitence and longing to do better with God’s help. So it is equally appropriate for reading during Lent.
Lord, who hast formed me out of mud,
And hast redeemed me through thy blood,
And sanctified me to do good;
Purge all my sins done heretofore:
For I confess my heavy score,
And I will strive to sin no more.
Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me,
With faith, with hope, with charity;
That I may run, rise, rest with thee.
Herbert’s poems have helped many during times of difficulty and doubt. His earthly life was short, but his legacy is a long one.
Jan 12, 2023 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
[This article is from our Spring 2023 back issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
We all know that churches can be led by lay people – and in vacancies, for example, often are.
Alan Stanley believes this is a good thing…
My own semi-rural benefice of three churches has been in a vacancy for one year, and an appointment is unlikely for another twelve months. During that time, each of the churches has come to life under the humble, often hesitating and faltering, but shared and compassionate leadership of its own lay people. Some of these emerging lay leaders hold official positions, some do not, but all are working together to lead our churches out of Covid and into the next stage of God’s plan for us.
In looking at some of the theology and ecclesiology behind this lay led period, I have been amazed how so much has pointed to the conclusion that not only can churches be led by their lay people, but that they should be. Indeed, perhaps they actually need to be. Working from the New Testament through to today, I hope to set out some key reasons why I have arrived at that conclusion.
The New Testament picture is of a charismatic church gradually delineating different ministries but with no separation between the value of each. In fact, there is no evidence that ministries were tied to one person for all time. It is likely that the general oversight of the Christian community in the early centuries rested on the owner of the home in which the church met. When we look at the New Testament from its own perspective, rather than from our own, we find, as Sullivan says, ‘a variety of forms of leadership that developed according to the needs of the early church’.1 If we are to be true to the New Testament witness then, we too must look for a variety of forms of leadership that develop according to the needs of the twenty-first century church.
By the time of the Shepherd of Hermas (around 140)2 we encounter the phrase ‘the presbyters who are head of the community’. We must not make the assumption that these presbyters, or elders, were ‘ordained’ in the way we understand the word today. We must take care to note well Macy’s words looking at contemporary questions surrounding ordination: Ordination in ancient document(s) was not the same concept that the modern question implies.3
Perhaps all we can glean from the New Testament is that the leadership of the early Christian communities was shared and changed as the communities themselves changed.
That brings us to the first thousand years of Christian history. In a compelling argument Macy helps us understand that ‘ordination’ was entry into one of the many offices needed to give the Christian community the order and missionary zeal that St Paul had called for in 1 Corinthians 14.
Macy summarises his argument thus: Ordination had a far different meaning for the first half of Christian history than it would come to have in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.3 In a very telling comment on the development of ministries in the first half of Christian history, the Roman Catholic theologian Schmidt writes that ‘all theologies of the ministry, however profound, are the consequences of a historical development in church structure’.4 From this he concludes that ‘the church has very great freedom over the content of its structures’.
This brings us to the dawn of that structure which is the parish system in England. First, we need to acknowledge that the parish church system owes its origins to lay people. The private churches of the local landowner were eventually opened up to all his tenants and became the church for the parish. Moorman tell us that ‘The village priest was therefore very much his lord’s “man” and subject to his authority and jurisdiction’.5 The priests themselves were local men, chosen for the work by the landowner, with only rudimentary education, and a bishop’s licence. Their role was to ensure public worship, engage in some simple teaching and carry out pastoral duties, all under the day-to-day direction of their lay benefactor. It was only with the development of sacramental theology in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries that a class of priests began to emerge who did not have their roots in their own local community, the so-called Mass Priests.
This local attachment was very slow to die out. Adrian Hastings writes about one James Hastings who, when he became Rector of Martly in 1920, could trace a family line of rectors through his father and grandfather back to 1791.6 The early rural parish clergy had no training as understood today and were following in the pattern of being local men, eventually also being Oxford or Cambridge educated. They were still ordained simply to lead worship and give pastoral care and instruction. Hastings comments: ‘This tradition of a laicised clergy went hand in hand with that of a church-minded laity, the “ecclesiastical layman”’. He continues: ‘A national church was, in all sorts of ways, a lay controlled Church, from parliament to the most local patronage’.6
When then did the Church of England cease to be a ‘lay controlled Church’? We could argue that the advent of structures which were designed to increase lay involvement in the Church of England may have in fact had the opposite effect.
In 1919, the bishops wanted the church to have more autonomy from Parliament. One consequence of that, whether intended or not, was to set in law the relationship between the incumbent and the people of the parish. The whole system of synodical government in the Church of England, and its equivalent in many other historic churches, has been designed to give lay people a voice in church affairs. Synods, whether national, regional, or local, may on occasion vote by Houses (bishops, clergy and lay), with a majority in all of the three sometimes required for a decision to be made. However, at the smallest and most local level, the Parochial Church Council, the incumbent is only required to consult with the lay people. The ideal is that all should work together, but this is a one-sided working together when the incumbent can act without the agreement of the lay people and remain, in the official words ‘the head’. The care of the people in the parish (the ‘cure of souls’) is shared by the bishop with the incumbent but not with the local lay people.
I am reminded of a quote from Cardinal John Henry Newman to the effect that the clergy would look pretty silly without the laity. The fact remains however that a reform which was intended to increase lay leadership ham-strung it at parish level from the start.
Anyone doubting that the laity have been disenfranchised by synodical government only needs to glance at the Guidance the House of Bishops issued during the pandemic:
Who makes the decision on what happens in church settings and at events held in church buildings? The responsibility for making decisions about how to proceed lies with the incumbent. This applies to acts of worship, to events run by the PCC or church community, and to decisions on whether to hire out spaces or allow other events to proceed. Incumbents should feel empowered to make locally appropriate decisions … 7
There is no mention of the responsibility lying with the PCC, or even of the churchwardens and incumbent acting together. The implication is clear.
All this is not simply an academic exercise. This top-down leadership model has seriously inhibited the mission activity of many churches, as the slowness to rebuild congregation numbers to pre-pandemic levels shows all too clearly.
This stands in contrast to some of the small and medium sized enterprises and large multinational companies which weathered the pandemic much more successfully than the church. In these organisations even the most authoritative founders and leaders share their decision making with others, though not necessarily those in the hierarchy chart.
Writing in 1981 (hence the use of masculine language), the Roman Catholic theologian Edward Schillebeeckx said: ‘This “community of God” is a brotherhood in which the power structures prevailing in the world are broken down (Matt. 20.25f.; Luke 22.25; Mark 10 42f.): all are equal.’8 It appears that the hierarchy of the Church of England does not follow Schillebeeckx’s thinking.
In contrast, Jürgen Moltmann (a theologian from the Reformed tradition) provides a clear expression in his The Trinity and the Kingdom of God of how an understanding of the Trinity should influence the way local churches are led.9 Moltmann argues that the Holy Trinity forms its own unity by the three persons loving each other, interacting with each other and sustaining each other in a community of equals. This, for Moltmann, is the exemplar of all true human communities, starting with the church. There is no room for monarchy in leadership; the only way is to follow the example of the Trinity and see leadership as community.
The hierarchical structure of the Church of England does not appear to follow this thinking. Perhaps now the time has arrived for it to engage in some ‘ecclesial restructuring’, to use a phrase coined by Cardinal Yves Congar. It will be a challenging process to go through, as was the process to ordain women, but no less rewarding. Kenneth Hylson-Smith outlines the challenge to clergy that enabling true lay leadership brings:
As part of the process, clergy and ministers all too typically appear to be over-cautious in sharing true leadership with the lay people ….. such apprehension is fully understandable. There are, of course, real risks in any devolution of power and authority. But the extent to which restraint or fear overcomes boldness is … highly detrimental to the work of the churches 10 (my emphasis).
A second article, to appear in the Summer 2023 issue of this magazine, will look at what a permanently lay-led church could look like in practice.
References
1 Sullivan, F A, From Apostles to Bishops: The Development of the Episcopacy in the Early Church. New Jersey: Newman Press, 2001: p.99.
2 See https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780195393361/obo-9780195393361-0230.xml
3 Macy, G, The Hidden History of Women’s Ordination, Female Clergy in the Medieval West. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008: p.15.
4 Schmidt, P, ‘Ministries in the New Testament and the Early Church’. In Kerkhovs, J (ed) Europe without Priests? London: SCM, 1995: p.84.
5 Moorman, J R H, A History of the Church of England. London: A&C Black, 1980: p.28.
6 Hastings, A, A History of English Christianity 1920–1985. London: Collins, 1986: p.69.
7 House of Bishops Guidance issued 9th December 2021.
8 Schillebeeckx, E, Ministry. Leadership in the Community of Jesus Christ. New York: Crossroad, 1981: p.34.
9 Moltmann, J, The Trinity and the Kingdom of God. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1980.
10 Hylson-Smith, K, The Laity in Christian History and Today. London: SPCK, 2008: p.136.
Dec 10, 2022 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
As the Central Readers’ Council celebrates its centenary, Stephanie Hayton looks back in time.
[This article is from our Winter 2022 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
There have been Readers, or ‘official lay ministers of the Church’, since New Testament times.1 Although their current role in the Church of England began in 1866, the ‘existence of an order of Readers… is a constant’ because ‘Readers are not simply an Anglican institution’ but ‘are admitted to an ancient order common to the Church Universal’.2 The practice of allowing educated lay people to preach and teach has its roots in the synagogues. Jewish priests had a sacramental role which focused on the Jerusalem Temple but, in the synagogues, educated Jewish laymen could read from Scripture and explain it to the congregation. Jesus fulfilled this role in the synagogue at Nazareth.
The early Church continued to use lay people to preach (e.g. 1 Tim 4:13). By 200 AD, it seems that Readers were the educated teachers within churches, whereas presbyters, deacons and even bishops might not have this claim.1
However, after Constantine’s edict in 313 AD, Christian leaders could have certain legal privileges so it became important to select the leaders and guard against heresy. Hence, ordination became important, clergy were trained to preach, and lay preachers were not required. The office of ‘Reader’ became a stepping-stone towards ordination3 and disappeared as a separate lay office until the sixteenth century when it was reinstated by Elizabeth I.
During the religiously and politically turbulent reigns of Henry VIII and his children, the nation needed unity and a common religion was one answer. The first Book of Common Prayer was published in 1549 during the reign of Edward VI. Even clergy were not always allowed to preach but instead read from the Church-authorised Book of Homilies4 (1547 and 1632). Even these measures were suppressed during Mary’s reign.
Elizabeth’s kingdom held a wide spectrum of religious views (from Puritans to Roman Catholics) so she demanded ‘conformity’. The Act of Supremacy (1559) required clergy and nobles to acknowledge the Queen as Supreme Governor of the Church of England. Some clergy rebelled, causing a shortage of church leaders. Hence, Archbishop Matthew Parker allowed incumbents to appoint ‘some sober honest and grave layman who as lector or Reader shall give his attendance to read the order of service appointed’.1 The role of these Readers varied: some did little more than read services and homilies, while others were active in missionary and pastoral work within the parish,5 but they all had to resign their positions when clergymen became available.1
As Anglicanism became established, clergy increased and the need for lay Readers disappeared. However, some laypeople continued to work as Readers in more missional settings such as New England and Australia.6 The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (SPG), founded in 1701, employed lay Readers who could also be catechists, schoolmasters or schoolmistresses. Other Readers were appointed by missionaries to lead new churches in communities – becoming, essentially, ministers – preaching, teaching, and leading worship in a pastoral context, some even baptising children.7 Others were viewed as ‘undertrained’. However successful they were, all were demoted when clergy arrived.
During the 1800s, in England, the activity of lay preachers (including women) increased8 but, since they were not ordained, the Church had little control over them. The population of England, particularly in towns and cities, grew rapidly during this period. However, the new housing estates attracted few clergy and many working people believed clergy to be part of the ‘oppressor’ class. In 1850, the bishops faced these issues and, after several years of discussion, resolved to reinstate the Order of Readers. At this stage, all Readers were male. Unlike clergy, they could have secular employment so did not need to be paid.
The idea of lay leadership in worship and preaching caused some anxiety, as did questions about the role and place of Reader ministry in the structures and organisation of the church.9 Readers were empowered to ‘render general aid to the clergy in all ministrations not strictly requiring the service of one in Holy Orders; to read lessons in Church; to read prayers and Holy Scripture, and to explain the same…’1 They were also encouraged to help ‘clergymen and others in… mission work’ holding services in prisons and workhouses, for sailors and other marginalised groups.10 This office was unpaid, licensed (or commissioned) by the bishop and with the incumbent’s agreement.
The Order of Readers was developed with mixed motives: it allowed greater lay involvement in churches, it provided a control over unauthorised preachers, it encouraged a wider pastoral ministry as Readers visited the sick, and it was hoped that Readers could work in areas of the population where clergy were not welcome. Some Bishops expected Readers to hold a similar social standing and education to clergy. Others recognised the social gap between clergy and the unchurched, so wanted Readers to bridge that gap.9 This caused two levels of Reader to develop: parochial Readers who could minister only in their home churches, and diocesan Readers who sat examinations then ministered across the diocese.
Initially many Readers were confined to reading the lesson, explaining the Scriptures in private households, and visiting the sick. A significant advance was made in 1884 when Readers were permitted to preach and read the non-priestly sections of Morning and Evening Prayer in unconsecrated buildings.1 By 1905, Readers could preach their own sermons although only the incumbent could use the pulpit.
Over the next decade, the Reader identity developed, often separate from the structures of the Church.
Theological colleges trained Readers, evangelists and missioners and these could be stipendiary roles. The Church had agreed in 1898 that trained evangelists could be given a Reader’s licence. In 1908, a central body to oversee Reader ministry was formed including clergy and Readers from different dioceses. This became the Central Readers’ Board in 19221 and, later, the Central Readers’ Council.11
During the World Wars, many clergy became army chaplains. Readers also enlisted and frequently led services, but qualified lay people were likewise needed to lead services and care for congregations at home. Many Readers took on necessary leadership roles ‘by default’, responding to a shortage of clergy. Social barriers between the upper classes (nobles and many clergy) and working people were breaking down. This growing egalitarianism reduced the need for the Readers’ bridging role and changed Reader ministry from ‘pioneering work on the boundaries between church and world, into something more churchy…’12
As the Church began to recognise the need for a lay voice in its affairs, the British Government passed the ‘Enabling Act’ (1919–20), allowing lay voices in the new Church Assembly (the precursor to the General Synod). Parochial Church Councils were also formed, giving lay congregation members the opportunity to guide their home church. This was followed in 1941 by updated regulations for Reader ministry which allowed all Readers to preach in any church building, if invited, and included the Reader as a member of parish staff. These regulations also allowed Readers to assist in Holy Communion services, although they were forbidden from preaching at these services.1
Common themes appear in this history: Reader ministry was encouraged when there was a lack of suitable clergy. Although the mission aspect of Reader ministry is noted, the Church’s concern for Readers focused on assisting clergy. This emphasis was reflected in church discussions and regulations governing Reader ministry.
Between 1910 and 1935, there was growing pressure to ordain women. From 1887, stipendiary lay women could work within the Church Army1 and, slowly, women were being allowed to assist with services. In 1935, an Archbishops’ Commission considered the ministry of women. Although it recommended that women should be able to exercise ministry as deaconesses, lay workers and Church Army Sisters, it believed that the Church would only accept male priests. However, the Commission suggested that women should be licensed as lay Readers.13
Over the following decades, there were concerns that licensing women might promote female ordination. In 1969, however, women were licensed as Readers. Molly Dow, one of the first female Readers, commented, ‘I felt then, and still feel, that having gifts for “up-front ministry’’ does not necessarily constitute a call to ordination. It seems right that lay people are seen to be able to do that kind of thing: that they, too, have theological and leadership gifts for the church.’14 However, as several of the articles in the Summer 2019 issue of The Reader demonstrated, seeing women in robes in pulpits and at the front of churches certainly helped move the culture towards accepting women in priestly and leadership roles.
In the twenty-first century, the twin themes through Reader ministry continue to be seen: the recognition of the need for lay involvement in the Church and in mission as society becomes increasingly secular and multicultural. Readers are not just there to assist the clergy but to bridge the two worlds of church and everyday life. A greater focus on Readers has led to an alternative name (Licensed Lay Ministers) and specific training. In 2021, new guidance was offered for the selection, discernment and training of Readers.15 This guidance acknowledges the role that Readers have in linking worship and our place in the world.
In 2018, Bishop Martyn Snow (Chair of the CRC from 2016 to 2020) emphasised the need for Readers to be ‘leaders in church and society’.16 There is a growing sense too of the vocation to Reader ministry being a separate calling, distinct from the call to the priesthood but just as valuable in itself. This is emphasised by the CRC now welcoming its first lay Chair as it celebrates its centenary.
Stephanie Hayton is Warden of Lay Ministry, Diocese of Bristol, and a Trustee of the Central Readers’ Council. This article is based on work carried out for an MA in Christian Approaches to Leadership at Sarum College in 2021.
[This article is from our Winter 2022 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
References
- King, T G, Readers: A Pioneer Ministry. London: The Miss Myland Fund, 1973.
- Young, F, ‘Readers in the Eastern Churches’. Transforming Ministry, 120(4), Winter 2020: pp.17-18.
- Knight, K,. Lector (online). Available at www. newadvent.org/cathen/09111a.htm. 2020.
- Ryrie, A, The Age of Reformation: The Tudor and Stuart Realms 1485–1603. Harlow: Pearson Longman, 2017.
- Younger, N, ‘How Protestant was the Elizabethan Regime?’ The English Historical review, 133(564), 2018: pp.1060-92.
- Withycombe, R S M, ‘Rural ministry: historical case studies from mid-ninteenth century Australian colonies.’ Rural Theology, 6(1)(70), 2008.
- Tovey, P, Buck, S, and Dodds G, Instruments of Christ’s Love. London: SCM Press, 2016.
- Andrews, R M, ‘Women of the seventeenth and eighteenth-century high church tradition.’ Anglican and Episcopal History, March 2015: pp.49-64.
- Garner, P, The Reader: an exploration of the history and present place of Reader ministry in the Church of England. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Leeds, 2010.
- Ministry Division of the Archbishops’ Council, Reader Upbeat: Quickening the Tempo of Reader Ministry in the Church Today. London: Church House Publishing, 2008.
- Hiscox, R, Celebrating Reader Ministry. London: Mowbray.
- Paterson, R, ‘Comment’. The Reader, 116(2) Summer, 2016: p.7.
- Archbishops’ Council, Women Bishops in the Church of England. London: Church House Publishing, 2004.
- Dow, M. ‘A Reader for fifty years (nearly), The Reader, 119(Summer), 2019: pp.9-10.
- www.churchofengland.org/sites/default/ files/2021-04/LLM%20Reader%20discernment%20 framework%20toplevel%20grid_1.pdf.
- Snow, M, ‘The future of Reader ministry.’ The Reader, 118(2) Spring 2018: pp.5-7.
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