THE past few weeks have been exceedingly difficult for the Church of England. The Makin report has yet again raised questions about the Church of England’s capacity to respond adequately to evidence of abuse. This comes as pressures on ministers at the coalface are increasing and concerns are being raised about clergy well-being.
It was this dual focus of concern, following their own past-cases review, that impelled the Methodist Church to take the decision to require all ordained ministers to receive pastoral supervision as an integral part of their ministry. I believe that it is time — and well beyond time — for the Church of England to follow the Methodists’ example.
Let me make clear what I mean by supervision. The word can conjure up connotations of factory supervisors scrutinising an artefact, or army sergeants inspecting the state of dress uniform to pick out the one imperfection. In contrast, non-managerial supervision offers those supervised a regular confidential space to pause from day-to-day activities and reflect on their practice in ministry. The person supervised sets the agenda; the supervisor facilitates the process. My experience of training clergy to offer and receive such supervision is that, when they see it in action, the overwhelming response is “If only I had had this years ago!”
SO, WHY this now? The Church of England has become increasingly aware that we cannot be complacent about the beneficence of those ordained to minister in it. Safeguarding training for all those exercising a representative ministry in the Church has been implemented, and continues to undergo change and improvement in the light of the findings of inquiries into past failures.
A key safeguarding message is that we all need to work together to create a safer Church, in which abuse as we have seen it in the past is prevented, and responses to allegations are dealt with in a timely and appropriate manner. All this is good and necessary.
But, if we really want a safer Church, there needs to be a change of culture from that which has allowed, concealed, or fostered abuse. This goes beyond recognising and responding appropriately when it is disclosed or has occurred, vital as those things are. It also involves those in leadership being willing and humble enough to recognise the power that they have, and to reflect on how they use it.
This may seem obvious, but, when privilege is unacknowledged, and when a person feels more impotent than effective, or the subtle seductions of power are unconscious, power can be misused and abused — sometimes inadvertently, and sometimes, as we have seen in the case of John Smyth, with sinister intent.
All of us, but those of us in leadership, in particular, need to become aware of the blindspots that we create and the heroes whom we elevate because of our anxiety about a shrinking Church, or the need for more of “our” kind of theology (as in the Pilavachi and Smyth scandals). A safer Church involves developing safer ministers — both in their use of their own authority and in modelling that safety of practice within congregations.
A safer Church also involves attention to risk. This is not a call to become risk-averse, but to have space to name and consider a variety of risks. Some may be obvious and easy to deal with; but where can ministers take those things that make them uneasy, and that aren’t yet safeguarding concerns, but may become so: those subtler dynamics of coercion or grooming which can seem innocent, but can become toxic?
But risk is not only from but to clergy. I asked five clergy of my acquaintance what they would rate as the top ten risks to clergy well-being. Answers came within minutes, with a remarkable consistency of themes: loneliness, isolation, lack of colleagues; lack of support from, or sense of being valued by, their diocese; the never-ending nature of the work; lack of positive outcome; limited resources; too many hats to wear; buildings, churchyards; the emotional toll of pastoral work; unhealthy power dynamics; bullying.
These pressures are well known, and yet little effective structure has been put in place to address them. Overworked and unsupported clergy do not make for a safer Church. They are more likely to make mistakes, miss things, take short cuts, snap, burn out. If we want safety, we also need to provide accessible support to frontline ministers.
THE Methodist experience, well documented through follow-up research, demonstrates that reflective pastoral supervision can support both clergy well-being and safer practice. Its regularity and continuity ensure that someone knows you, your work, and the emotional toll that it takes.
Unpacking relational difficulties or boundary issues in a confidential space enables perspective. Reviewing the unending range of tasks clarifies priorities. Naming risk early enables the possibility of preventative as well as responsive measures. Most importantly, slowing down, and sitting with a trusted person in a hospitable space, can give room for God’s still, small voice to be heard again.
To be effective, however, supervision needs to be offered by trained supervisors to those who understand how to be active partners. There will, of course, be a financial cost to this: one diocese budgeted approximately £15,000 to train 15 supervisors, and 45 people to be supervised, using our training package — but this cost needs to be set against the current cost of unsupported and unaccountable ministry. I urge the Church of England to make plans centrally for all ordained clergy to receive this potentially transformative practice.
Dr Ruth Layzell is the director of the Institute of Pastoral Counselling and Supervision.
pastoralcs.org.uk