"Samantha, here to see you."
"Thank you, Isla." Ruth waited for her chaplain to close the door before indicating the chair in front of her desk. "Take a seat."
Samantha did so in silence.
Janice was seated beside Ruth, and Ruth glanced at her for a second before looking back at Samantha. "Good afternoon. Before we do anything, I would like to check that you do not wish to have a friend with you for this meeting to support you. It is not just permitted but encouraged."
Samantha didn't meet her eyes. "No. It's fine."
"Your training incumbent is another option. You could call him now."
"No."
Ruth glanced at Janice again. "As you wish." She set her tablet in front of her, finding the relevant paperwork. "I have received a complaint that on the morning of Sunday 15th December while presiding at the Eucharist you denied the Sacrament of Holy Communion to Harvey and Alfie Hudson-Coles, without due procedure, and furthermore did not seek to consult with either your training incumbent or myself beforehand or to inform either of us immediately following the event. You have received a copy of all allegations in writing, I have received your written response and a record of your meetings with Janice, but would like to start by giving you an opportunity now to make any further comments, and share anything else you would like me to take into account."
Samantha was clutching her bag on her lap, and still didn't look up. "I followed my conscience, and my understanding of Holy Scripture. St Paul states that receiving unworthily..."
Ruth exchanged a glance with Janice, but otherwise sat back and allowed Samantha to continue her carefully composed justification until she tailed off into silence. Then she laid a hand on the folder of canons which she had set on her desk in preparation, drawing it towards herself.
"I would like to assure you first of all that I am aware of what Scripture says, and of the historic teachings of the Church and the contents of the thirty-nine articles. I can also tell that this is a matter of deep theological conviction for you. However as an ordained minister in the Church of England you are bound by the Canons and, in certain key issues such as this, by the official position of the Church of England as agreed by General Synod."
She opened the folder of canons slowly, flicking through to the correct page. "Canon B16 states that if a minister be persuaded that anyone of their cure should not be admitted to the Holy Communion, they shall give an account of the same to the bishop of the diocese or other the Ordinary of the place - that is, myself - and therein obey their order and direction. It also states that they shall not refuse the sacrament to any until - in accordance to that order - they have called them and advised them not to presume to come to the Lord's Table. If you were not aware of this procedure, you should have checked and sought advice before taking any action."
"There's an allowance for grave need, isn't there?"
"You have a mobile phone, do you not? And if you did not, then I am sure that someone else in the congregation could have lent you one, so that you could consult with your training incumbent in the minutes before the service. And there is certainly no excuse for you to have refused these men at the rail, when you could have spoken to them quietly on their arrival at the service. All of the information leading to your decision was available before the start of the service, and you could have taken more appropriate actions but chose not to. There are occasions when this can be excusable, but not when it relates to illicit excommunication. Given everything I know about your actions, I can only conclude that you were aware that if you expressed your intentions to anyone beforehand you would be prevented."
Samantha licked her lips. "St Paul says..."
"I know what St Paul wrote." Ruth silenced Samantha instantly. "The matter of same-sex marriage has been wrestled with through informed debate by the foremost theologians of the past fifty years and the most senior figures in the Church of England, and the conclusions made according to Church policy. This is far more important than your personal interpretations of a few select passages of scripture, and you certainly do not have the authority to impose those views on others. Allow me to point you to what Jesus says. 'Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to cast a stone. Judge not, lest you be judged. Condemn not, lest you be condemned. A disciple is not above their teacher. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?'" She watched Samantha's face, still as impassive as when she'd first walked in the door, and tried to maintain her icy calm. It was starting to become harder. "You think you have the right to make a decision like that, to withhold the free gift of God? You think that you are in a position to worry about the worthiness of others?"
"It... felt like... my duty."
"And you were wrong. It is not your duty to worry about the worthiness of others, against the teachings of the Church of England, against canon law, against the Gospel teachings of mercy and love. In my charge to you before I ordained you priest I told you that your duty was to love, and never to forget your own reliance on God, and yet in your actions you told people that God does not love and welcome them for who they are. You did this knowing that others would prevent you given the chance." She shook her head and then went on, her voice soft and steely. “You promised at your ordination that you would conduct services only according to canon, and you took an oath of obedience to me as your bishop. You took vows that you would faithfully minister the doctrine and sacraments of Christ as the Church of England has received them, that you would strive to be an instrument of God’s peace, that you would make known the love of Christ through word and example, and would follow after the example of Christ to serve and not to be served. You promised that you would accept and minister the discipline of this Church, and respect authority duly exercised within it. You have not kept those promises. You have broken your ordination vows, you have broken canon law, you have betrayed the Church and you have betrayed God."
Ruth let the words hang in the air, gave them time to sink in. Samantha's lip trembled, her hands tightening on the bag that she'd kept on her lap. There was a long silence - time for Samantha to answer, if she wanted to, but she didn't.
"I think," Ruth said in the end, "that you understand now."
A tiny nod in response.
"Do you understand, and accept, these charges?"
A tear trickled down Samantha's face and dripped onto her shirt, and Ruth looked down.
"I..." The words caught. "I guess."
"Do you consider anything I've said to be unfair, or is there anything else you think should be taken into account?"
Sam answered with a shrug, which wasn't enough, and Ruth had to wait for the muttered "no". Then Janice glanced up from her laptop and nodded, and Ruth turned to the final page of the report, forming her words with care.
"This is a serious charge. Your actions were deliberate, and have caused serious pain to those in your care. Your conduct during the investigation, especially your lack of honesty, has worsened the situation. You understand that there must be consequences?"
Samantha gave a small nod in response, and Ruth took a deep breath, forcing her eyes to focus on her tablet.
"There are a few options open to us. One: I may impose a penalty now, with your consent. I have taken advice, and given the severity of the charge, this would be removal from office, including the termination of your licence. Two: you may refuse, and the case will be decided through legal instruments, which will take considerably longer. Three: you may sign the letter of resignation which Janice has drafted for you. While the reason for your resignation would be recorded, it would be better than a dismissal. In either case, you may apply for another curacy, although you are not guaranteed acceptance, and if you are then I would expect it to include additional supervision and support from the relevant diocese. You may take twenty-four hours to consider, if you wish, and ask any questions you may have."
Janice placed the letter in front of Samantha, and she stared at it blankly for a long time before finally taking a pen from her bag and adding a wobbly signature to the bottom. Then she was frozen again, motionless as Janice picked up the document and passed it back to Ruth, who checked it and then put it down to fold her hands together.
"I accept your resignation, and release you from your required notice period. Your training incumbent will be informed immediately following this meeting. Did you bring your licence, as requested?"
Samantha took it out of her bag and passed it across reluctantly.
Ruth set it on the desk in front of her and steepled her hands together again. "I am sorry that it has come to this, and will pray for you moving forward. Is there anything else you wish to discuss, or which I can help you with, before you leave?"
A head shake in response, so Ruth stood up.
"If you think of something, email me or contact Isla to arrange a meeting. Isla will show you out now. God bless you, Samantha."
Isla was discrete, she’d get Samantha out without the embarrassment of being seen by the whole of Bishopthorpe, and make sure that she was safe to get home. Ruth shut the door and returned to her seat, putting her head down on the desk. Tom's words hung in her ears: One of those ones where you shatter them in pieces and then send the remains out for your chaplain to deal with? But how could she have offered comfort, when she'd just been the one to rip Samantha's world away? The words of the surrendered licence swam in front of her eyes, as words always did these days.
“Well handled.” Janice was still there, quiet at the end of the desk. “I couldn’t get through to her – you saw, she was still being defensive.”
"She was a curate. I still wonder if we couldn't have given her another chance."
"We did. She can have a fresh start in another curacy."
"In theory." Ruth brushed her fingers over the licence. "It should never have come this far."
"We should pray."
They did pray, for Samantha and for those affected by her actions, and for themselves, and then Ruth sighed. “I have one more committee meeting this afternoon to prepare for, though I’m very much not in the mood. I’ll see you soon.”
“Of course. Look after yourself, let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Which implies you’re not…” Janice shook her head. “Sorry, I know you’re fully capable of looking after yourself.”
“Day off tomorrow, which is more than welcome. And going to see Tom. It’s been too long.”
"Wonderful, I'll go away reassured. Give him my love."
“Is it that obvious?”
“At the end of a meeting like that? I’d be amazed if you didn’t relax the mask a little. Besides, I've known you a long time. Enjoy your day off.”
“Thank you.” Ruth found the paperwork for her next meeting and set it in front of her. “I’ll show you out. Need a walk.”
It was a wonderful relief, to knock on Tom’s door the following afternoon, seeing his grin as he invited her in. He looked well, more confident, his shirt sleeves pulled up to his elbows without concern about the visibility of his scars.
“Ruth. Come in, it’s so good to see you. Let me hang your jacket up… I think one of my predecessors might have taken advantage of the opportunity to get the best house in the archdeaconry - it’s got proper insulation, double glazing, and central heating that works! Now, you haven’t seen my new domain, come through to my sitting room…”
Ruth couldn’t compare it to his old flat, having never visited him there, but this was tastefully done and cosy, a suitable balance between professional and personal. He had the bookshelf, with theology and tomes on church conservation and canon law, and one shelf of respectable novels. A couple of prints on one wall, a collection of photos on another. Ordination and licensing photos, of course. One of her own enthronement in York - she felt a glow of warmth at the realisation. A group of children, some of whom she recognised from the homeless camp last year. A family group, with two teenage boys and an older woman – the younger of the boys had to be Tom, she could see some resemblance. Another of six children, this one with Tom with his arm around someone vaguely familiar.
“That’s Megan?”
“Well recognised. Yeah, that was in… end of September.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other “Took our waifs and strays to the seaside, to make some memories. Do take a seat… tea? I have regular, herbal, fruity…”
“Regular would be lovely, thank you.” She sat down on the sofa, leaving him the armchair, and tried to read the titles of his books. Too far away, they were blurred. It was weird, having a meeting like this with someone else in control.
“So.” Tom put down the tea on the coffee table, closed the door, and then settled on the other end of the sofa. “What's wrong?”
She twisted her ring. “I’m getting old and looking back. I just turned sixty-six, my eyesight’s starting to go, and I’m looking back at all the things I haven’t done in my life. Mostly, I have no family, which never used to bother me but now it does.”
“I see. To start with the simple one, have you seen an optician about the eyesight?”
“Not yet.”
He raised his eyebrows at her, no need for words. “As for no family, you don’t have siblings or cousins?”
“I have a sister… we haven’t spoken in years, haven’t really talked in decades.”
“Why not?”
And here it was. She knew Tom was good for her, as much as she knew that talking to him like this wouldn’t always be fun.
“There’s… we never really got on. And then we had disagreements at mum’s funeral, about all the organisation and details, and we… haven’t really spoken since. I left home at eighteen, she’s two years younger and hung around longer. Always seemed to know how to fit in at home in a way that I didn’t…” Tom was looking at her. “I suppose I envied her for that?”
“Do you have any fond memories?”
“Well, we used to play together. Dolls and stuff. And run around in the playground. And talk quite a lot, when we were in our early teens, less as we got older.”
“What about since? You must have seen her…”
“Family events, yeah. When her kids were born – that was around the time I was ordained, she made a point of telling me she wasn’t having them baptised and didn’t want me putting any superstitious nonsense in their heads.”
“Your family weren’t supportive of your vocation, then?”
“Not really. Though they came to my ordinations. Emily didn’t come to my episcopal consecration, and she was looking after dad when I was enthroned at York. Made a great point of that.”
“But it goes both ways, doesn’t it? What would she say were I asking her a similar question?”
“I think…” a long pause. What would Emily say? Why didn’t Emily want to come to her stuff? Was it just a dislike for the Church, or envy or...? “Maybe she’d say I’m too career-minded. She used to say that, say I was too busy climbing to spend time with my family, that I put the Church and ambition before them.”
Tom just looked at her.
“I mean… I can kind of see why. I was determined to get out of there at eighteen, just needed independence. And then I… wanted to prove myself? I'd always been the successful one - we were at private school, I was the one with the academic scholarship that meant our parents could afford it. I didn't work hard or behave or do any of the things she did, but I still did better, that was tough on her. And then I refused the Oxbridge place she'd have loved, and when I started to get really successful in my career I rejected that too and went to the Church, and it was kind of… throwing it in her face that I had all that success and she didn’t, and yet I could throw it all away like that. And then… you had to be single-minded, to get by as a woman in the Church - especially in my first diocese. Anything short of perfection was female weakness.”
“Which was a worse accusation than that you were neglecting your family?”
Ruth rubbed her forehead with her hand. “I haven’t done reflection like this in years.”
“Is it not why you rang me up?”
“Yes. It's just... hard.”
“So what’s holding you back from contacting your sister?”
“She doesn’t want to hear from me.”
“Would you have wanted to hear from her, just after the last time you met?”
“I guess… no.”
“Well, I’m going to leave this train of thought be, you can follow it for yourself later. And come back to the other aspect of your regrets. What do you wish you’d done differently?”
“I dunno, I just feel… like it’s a waste, that I don’t have children. Everyone else has families and children and grandchildren and I just have a career.”
“Just?”
“I mean… that’s what it is. It’s a big career, and a privilege, but still a job. I don’t really have anything else.”
“But you’ve never felt the need to push for anything else.”
“I always thought ministry was enough.”
“And it’s not?”
She looked at her hands for a while. “I mean… it’s my vocation. It’s the most important part of my life. But most people, most other bishops and archbishops, they have families and hobbies and stuff too. I just work. And maybe come home at the end of the day to read novels and sketch a bit, when I’m not too tired. I feel like I have one life, there’s so much more I could have done in it.”
“You know what you’re doing?”
“Being demanding? Asking too much?”
“Comparing yourself to other people. Just because other people have it, you think that you should too.”
“No!”
Tom raised his eyebrows.
“I mean… I guess that’s kind of what it sounds like,” she confessed.
“Now, here’s an idea for you. Different people have different callings. Some people are called to be bishops and also to be mothers or fathers, wives or husbands. Some people are called to give all of their energy and attention to Christ in the Church. Is one of those vocations more worthy than the other? No. God calls different people to different things, and has called you to give everything to your episcopal ministry. Right?”
“Um…”
“Is that an idea you’re okay with?”
“Um, I don’t know. I’ve thought I was, in the past. I never thought about… doing anything less. But then I’ve always gone all out. One thing, to the exclusion of all else, that’s just the kind of person I am.”
“And you don’t think God might be aware of and working with that?”
“Stop being wise, I prefer being frustrated!”
He laughed, and then turned serious again. “Why do you regret not having children? Because that sounds like what’s bothering you.”
“I dunno. I guess it’s… something special. Part of being a woman, or at least that's what it feels like people say all the time. Being able to bring new life and then raise them, it’s such a responsibility, and it seems to be such a joy.”
“Those are words you could use to describe any vocation. Some people are called to be parents, like some of us are called to be bishops and priests. You don’t have enough responsibility already?”
“It’s professional, not like parenthood.”
“You think? You don’t think there’s more than that, to having the cure of souls for a whole diocese, and a leading role in the rest of the country too?”
“Well, I guess. It’s different, though, not like having a really personal relationship.”
“You can’t think of any lives you’ve transformed recently? People you’ve met this week, to help them in their pain?”
“Well, I had to do a disciplinary yesterday…”
“Ah.” He shook his head sympathetically. “Bad one? You don’t have to answer…”
“It’s pretty public, she’s made sure of that. You know the case.”
“Oh. That one. Bad, then.”
“I have accepted her resignation, and left it at that. She’ll have a job finding anywhere else. I’ve just ruined her life, and given her the most brutal lecture on top of it.”
“You’ve let God down?”
She nodded. “That was part of it.”
“I’ve used it a couple of times. It’s hard, but it sinks in. Cure of souls.”
She flicked a tear away from the corner of her eye. “I want to be bringing them into God’s embrace, not sending them away crushed and in tears. You yelled at me once for that.”
“You didn't...” she could feel his disappointment as he sighed.
"Yeah, I did. I mean... I tried not to, I asked if there was anything else she wanted to talk about or anything I could help with, she just shook her head and... I promised to pray for her, and blessed her as she left, but... how do you fix someone after that? But it's been all over the news, I've had Lizzie ringing me up concerned about it, she excommunicated someone. And didn't exactly cooperate afterwards. I couldn't go easy.”
He pushed a box of tissues across the table. "I know. And I'm glad I don't have to be the one having those conversations or making those decisions."
“I hate doing it.”
“And yet you do it. Because it’s necessary.”
She nodded. “Because the Church needs order, and there needs to be repentance before forgiveness.”
He looked down for a minute. “That's only one meeting though, don't let it overshadow everything else. I'm sure you've helped people recently, too.”
“I suppose…”
“Look. I know it’s easy to look at the things you haven’t got. I’ve done it myself, wondered about whether I’d ever have children of my own. But I don’t believe that’s something God’s calling me to. You know the foster kids that Megan and I care for? Those are my children, as are – in a way - the people whom I care for as archdeacon. Parenthood is just one manifestation of the caring vocation, and not one to which all of us are called. Have you ever felt called to marriage and motherhood, or met someone you've wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”
Ruth shook her head. “Though I wonder now if I missed it.”
“You think God would just let you miss it?”
“I mean… no, of course not.”
“No regrets, Ruth. There’s no point in them, and they tend to be unfounded anyway. Being brutally honest, even if you now feel the desire to be a mother, but that’s not going to be for biological children, so there's not much point in you worrying about that now. Perhaps you want a legacy, or someone to live through in your retirement?”
“Which isn’t a good reason for having children anyway.”
“A natural one, though.”
“But there are other people who can fill that gap.”
“That’s right. And your writing. That's quite a legacy you'll leave behind.”
“So rather than worrying about what I can’t have, I need to be working out what I can have.”
“Indeed. And you need to be reminding yourself that one form of caring is not inferior to another.”
She took a second tissue to blow her nose. “Thanks, Tom. Talking sense into me.”
“You know it all, it’s just a matter of remembering. Now, do you want to come with me to the kitchen and carry on chatting while I put the dinner on?”
"Yeah. Sure."
"This way." He used the arm of the chair to pull himself to his feet. "So, what positive things have been going on in your life recently? There must be some..."
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