AKMA’s Random Thoughts

Two miles on thee treadmill, shower, hot breakfast, and I’m spending the morning in a session about the Epistle of James. So far, so satisfactory a conference, and it has definitely been a pleasant return to international conference-going.

Two miles in the morning, a giant waffle with Margaret and Kate, some time wandering and meeting folks, three partial sessions (NT Christology, a book panel on Crucified: The Christian Invention of the Jewish Executioners of Jesus, and Luke’s Gospel and Judaism), more wandering and meeting, an hour catching up with Anne and her husband, dinner with Margaret, and we’re planning for three receptions, then bed.

That’s conference life for you.

For the last couple of days, Margaret and I have been participating in the NetVUE pre-meeting. She gave a short paper on assisted dying in the light of the vocation to peacemaking, and I gave a response to John Dear’s The Gospel of Peace in the light of a pædagogy of peacemaking. These both went well, we had good conversations with our friends among the attendees, and we had some monstrously large US meals.

Each morning I’ve run my two miles on a treadmill in the hotel gym; it’s a very different experience from running in the wild, especially when the gym gets crowded. I’m a little self-conscious when there are others around. Still, I’m getting the running done, and that’s especially valuable since my caloric intake has ticked upward.

I didn’t run yesterday morning, cos I was getting ready to catch a plane to San Diego to attend this year’s SBL/AAR meeting. (I’m also giving a paper at the pre-meeting NetVUE conference, about which I blogged last time, I think). Travel went smoothly, if not exactly comfortably. The first plane that allows regular access to a gym or masseur or some other concession to limber-ness will be a big hit, I predict. Ensconced in the hotel, all is well.

This morning I woke up early — really, surprisingly late, since it was around noon UK time, and I never sleep that late — so I ran two miles on a treadmill in the hotel fitness centre. That’s a first for me; it was interesting, and would have been a lot more interesting if the only screen options hadn’t been early-morning finance shows. Good breakfast, now off to run a couple of errands before coming back and changing for my presentation. Looking forward to seeing some long-time friends…

I didn’t run this morning due to the snow, but I did go in to Morning Prayer after a cup of coffee. Then I stopped at Throwing Buns for a cup in town, picked up toothpaste, came home to some errands, ran out for our Confirmation Class, back home for work and dinner. I have to proof this week’s bulletin before bed.

Two satisfactory miles this morning — started slow, limbered up gradually, then tired toward the end. Jolly cup of coffee, caught up on email, answered an online request for typeface advice (in the course of which I discovered Coelacanth (with Greek!) and Beuron, which I added to my repertoire), cleaned up and dressed (discovered another suit that no longer fits — wonder if it would fit Si — with a view to what I’ll pack for San Diego) (attention SBL, you should have a dedicated page for a particular annual meeting, just saying), before Morning Prayer I located and photographed the baptismal record for a former parishioner, then MP, now at R&R working on the service booklet for Advent Lessons and Carols. All in a day’s work.

At least, that’s what I did this morning. I did run short bits, but my body didn’t want to; I’d get a twinge in my knee, or ankle, or the place where I tied my trainers too tight (before I un- and retied them about a half mile in). And I didn’t want to try to override my body’s feedback; if I’m going to mess my legs up, or fall, or something, it won’t be because I ignored the warning signs. I did cover my two miles, though, because I am that stubborn.
Then coffee and crumpets, a really good shower and church, then home with Margaret. I finished my read-through of Wrede’s ‘Biblische Kritik innerhalb des Theologischen Studium’ and sent off my notes to the translator. We watched the last two episodes of Amazon Prime’s Cross series (which impressed us very positively) and we’ll have an easy dinner here at home, and get some rest tonight.

Today was a good day at church. My colleague and I work well together, and we’re blessed with a wonderful congregation, and although we haven’t (by any means) ironed out all the wrinkles for filling in gaps and imagining what would happen if a real Rector were in place, our shared ministry going forward seems sturdy and promising. A good day.

As I expected after yesterday’s good run, today my legs were heavy — slow to limber up, early to tire — but the run was fine, if slow. Hot breakfast this morning, coffee, cleaned up and set about drafting my response to John Dear’s The Gospel of Peace, for which I’m giving a response at an event hosted by the Council of Independent Colleges’ NetVUE (Network for Vocation in Undergraduate Education) Gathering on ‘Nonviolence and/as Vocation’. After that, I set to working on my presentation on the Advent Collects for a meeting of the Sodality of Mary winter Sodality Day. Good thing I have a day off, so I can get some work done….

I had a very good run this morning — hardly any discomfort, and a good pace. Follow that with a cup of coffee (no fruit alas), shower, Morning Prayer at church, walk in to R&R to put something in my coffee while I work on my presentation, squeeze in a little productivity between parish mini-crises, then in to the New Testament seminar with Isaac Augustine Morales on the expression ‘those who call on the Name of the Lord’.

Reasonably good pace for my morning run, then a cup of coffee and fruit while I read applications, cleaned up and went to church for Morning Prayer, caught the X3 to Oxford, deliberated over applications, ran some errands, came home, and resumed parish odds and ends.

After Monday and Tuesday on the Church of England front, I’m pretty worn out. I’ll paste in some observations I posted on social media below. I ran yesterday with my knee support, and this morning with just bare muscle, ligament, and bone. Well, enclosed by skin. Gentle run yesterday, more straight-ahead today.

Before:
I have a fair number of friends here who don’t usually know or care much about the inside of Church of England, who may be wondering what I think about the Archbishop of Canterbury.
What I think is that covering up (even ‘soft-pedalling’ or ‘kicking into the long grass’) minor safeguarding failures is a sacking offence in many quarters. Lying about the timeline and extent of knowledge (if committed) is an aggravating circumstance.
There’s no excuse, no mitigation. The Church must handle his case as it would a minor cleric’s, and since no one can fire him, he must resign.
Fergus Butler-Gallie wrote the letter, and Bishop Helen-Ann Hartley of Newcastle spoke out (and brought the receipts when she was strong-armed). Integrity, clarity, and unwavering commitment to the pastoral care of all show who the leaders of the Church really are.

After:
So Archbishop Welby has resigned (eventually): am I happy now?
(a) I wasn’t in it for my personal satisfaction. I insisted that he follow the rules he set down, by which any church employee would have had to resign or be fired.
(b) So I’m not happy, because hundreds of young people have been abused and some apparently died, dozens or more clergy and other church staff have been complicit in covering up Smyth’s abuse, and many others have been sullied by association, partial knowledge, and popular assumptions.
(c) I’m not happy because nothing in this sorry saga has given anyone cause for joy, but only grief and a painful reminder of ways any of us could feel trapped into pathways that would shame us if discovered.
(d) I notoriously don’t have a theory of mind by which to intuit Justin Welby’s spiritual state, but reading his letter provides strong clues of ambivalence about how others have responded to a path he evidently thought was best. I would guess that he feels hard done by, mixed with some regret. I guess that I would, if I were in that situation.
(e) I’m not his confessor nor his judge.I have prayed for him as Archbishop every day and will continue so to do.
(f) Nothing — nothing — on earth balances scales for people who’ve had to live with abuse, or with the toxic knowledge of abuse. It’s our obligation to uncover, treat, disinfect wherever we can.
(g) I doubt many people would have believed that we’re really trying so long as he was Archbishop, however much good he did toward advancing toward that goal in every other case.
(h) I hope we can find an [arch]bishop with integrity and humility who will not shy away from this hard work.

I wish Justin Welby no ill. He has, and will for a long time have, a stain on his reputation, the basis for which only he (on earth) knows, and I can’t imagine how that feels. I also can’t imagine how it feels to be a Smyth survivor, an Iwerne survivor, or a Smyth-adjacent church leader who might have ring the alarm bell forty-plus years ago.

I tell my confirmation class (with regard to entering the church), and my marriage preparation class (with regard to joining two lives into one), that we can’t imagined how tightly our lives are interlocked with others, how many people our actions affect. This must be a hell of a way to find out. But survivors found out first, and no one was willing to pull the emergency brake. Sympathy isn’t ‘rivalrous’ entity that can only be parcelled out in small bits lest one run out; one can in principle have sympathy for all concerned. My sympathy goes first, and always, with the survivors (and, heaven help us, any who didn’t survive) — and on good days filled with grace, extends beyond them to the church that turned its back on them.