The day after…

Having just spent ten days in the Holy Land, I have been thinking a lot about irreconcilable conflict. What do you do when different groups have different base lines – when the starting point of each side’s aspiration crosses the bottom line of the other?

Israel/Palestine is a splendid example of how not to do it. Both sides became involved in a ‘might is right’ struggle, which Israel won conclusively. Having won the military battle, Israel has continued to work for the delivery of its political aims by quasi-military means – house demolitions, movement controls, land and resource seizures, and so forth.

What’s needed is a different sort of game, but as far as I can see the Palestinian leadership is trying to find a means of winning, if not militarily, then certainly by a variation on the ‘might is right’ strategy.

That’s a struggle which costs lives. I don’t think anyone has died over the ordination of women as bishops, but on its own scale the problem of irreconcilable bottom lines is just as acute. It is very depressing indeed to hear people talking as if there were a better solution just to hand, especially those who have been through all the negotiations of the last few years. Circles do not become squares. A solution acceptable to everyone is not going to emerge. Israel/Palestine shows us that.

So what is the other game? It’s the game that anyone’s played who was patched up a rift between friends; on a political level, it’s the game that was played in Northern Ireland. It’s a game that involves listening – something that many of those opposed to women bishops were claiming has not happened. I think they were probably confusing listening with agreeing.

Listening means speaking honestly. A starting point would be the recognition that there is no magic bullet, and an agreement to stop using the myth of a consensus on this issue as a rhetorical holy grail with which to criticise any actual concrete proposal.

Much as I would have wished that Bishop Justin didn’t have this on his plate, I pray that in the providence of God he may have been called to Canterbury to help the Church of England in this particular hour of need. I pray too that church business, however important, doesn’t prevent him from leading us in mission.

The sun has gone down, and I am still angry. Not angry with those who voted against the legislation (how can I be angry with someone else’s conscience?), but angry that there are women called to episcopal ministry who will never get the chance. Angry at the damage that will be done to the church and its mission both because of the absence of those gifts, and also because of our inability to welcome the gift God is offering to us. Angry at being stuck here, when I can feel the Spirit beckoning us forward.

Now is not a time for ‘what next’? It’s a time to recognise our feelings for what they are, and let them be. In a little while, maybe, those of us who tonight are angry, or depressed, or despairing can return to ourselves and find the gift of God which will enable us to do whatever it is we are called to next. But not tonight.