I know that the thoughts and reactions of one obscure curate in one small corner of the C of E really have no bearing on the current to-ings and fro-ings of the Anglican Communion, - and it might possibly be wiser to continue to focus on my own minutiae and pretend nothing is happening at all. On the other hand, this blog is a reflection of the reality of my life, and the reality which I can't ignore is that right now I'm feeling sad, scared, and torn in all directions. What does one small curate do with all this?
I have gay friends, ordained and lay, who are feeling hurt and angry to the point of outrage at the way lines have been drawn. If lines have been drawn, I'd want to be standing with them.
I have vows of obedience in all things lawful to a bishop whom I both respect and love.
I have roots buried deep in the C of E (my brief attempt at uprooting and "going to Rome" in the early 80s convinced me that I'm undoubtedly an Anglican by choice as well as chance).
I have a deep antipathy to the idea that if you dislike decisions that are being made, you dissociate yourself from them by leaving the party (surely that's exactly what groups like F i F and the Reform parishes are doing,- and I really don't admire their tactics)
I also have a congregation who need their clergy, and who are for the most part deeply unmoved by the events of the wider church.
So, where does duty lie in all this?
I wish I knew.
I signed up for InclusiveChurch in the first days of its existence,- and that's what I'm still longing for, praying for. A Church where all are welcomed, affirmed, free to use their gifts and live out their calling under God.
I guess for the moment the only option is prayer,- and maybe I can manage to refrain from adding to the online fuorore too. Back to the minutiae, to the day of small things.