General Assembly 2007                   

Kirk opts for ‘conversation’ on same-sex relationships

Comment

The party's over, the clearing up is under way. Not much mess, no dead bodies. Nobody even got drunk. There were no serious indiscretions, at least not in public. Nobody was thrown out; no broken stained glass was found on the floor.

This week's General Assembly of the Church of Scotland was pretty low-key. As a young journalist in the 1960s, I covered some passionate - furious even - assemblies. In later years, when I was a meenister, I was involved in the odd stramash, especially when I was representing the Iona Community.

This week, no voices were raised in anger, except from the public gallery. The once-wild Scottish Presbyterian dog is now something of a domesticated national religious pet.

Or to put the matter in a different way entirely: in today's world of sophisticated coffees, the Kirk represents the decaff end of the Presbyterian brand. The pulse-racing, blood pressure-raising stuff is only to be found in the fights between island Presbyterian sects whose doctrinal differences are not visible to the naked eye.

The national Church's more subdued mood has to be understood in the context of the decline in influence of European mainstream institutions, the primacy of consumer choice, and the global postmodern market of pre-packaged ideas. In a world in which you can choose a new lifestyle every year, commitment is not the buzz-word of the day.

Yet to leave it like that is unsatisfactory. There are some signs that the decline in numbers is beginning to bottom out. Half a million signed-up adult members is a fan-base to die for.

Giving to the Kirk is on the rise. The Church of Scotland has more than 1000 trained ministers, with churches in every parish in the land. Not only that, persistent critical questions are being raised about the crippling limitations of philosophies which are destructive of community life. And the old questions about meaning and death don't go away.

The Kirk is the biggest voluntary social work agency in Scotland. So a good part of any assembly is going to be workmanlike rather than exciting. It is, after all, the Kirk's AGM, scrutinising its work.

What has given this year's event its distinctive feel is the knowledge that the issue of same-sex relationships could divide the church and devour its energies. Having looked into the abyss, all parties have pulled back from the brink and decided to work together in a national conversation on the issue.

There has been no appetite for conflict. As the German theologian Jurgen Moltmann observed: "Noah endured the stench on the Ark by observing the size of the waves outside."

Hence the more passive nature of this year's assembly. Decisions have only been postponed, but there is a hope that, when made, they will be more informed and compassionate decisions.

Good, solid work has been done. Some planning for the future has been put in place. For everything there is a season, and this is the season for reflection, conversation, and reconciliation.

I do miss the passion, though: and the tang of real coffee

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Kirk once spoke in a voice of thunder

STEPHEN MCGINTY AND CRAIG BROWN

IT SAID no to nuclear weapons, yes to troops out of Iraq and a resounding "Hmm, we'll get back to you" on the morality of gay relationships.

The General Assembly of the Church of Scotland drew to a close yesterday after a week of debate and deliberation which saw Scotland's "national" Church scrutinise everything from human trafficking to the correct weight of a hymn book.

Yet has the voice of the Kirk in annual communion now trailed to a faint whisper of what it once was, muttering only to itself, where it once spoke loudly for a nation? Or, is it in a transitional stage, negotiating the swift currents of an increasingly secular society, losing ground, but far from being swept away?

There is little doubt that the spotlight which once burned so brightly on the General Assembly has dimmed. In the 1950s, when active membership was about 1.5 million, the Church of Scotland had a genuine claim to represent the people of Scotland, while in the 1980s, a disgruntled nation turned to the assembly to articulate its opposition to the premiership of Margaret Thatcher. Today, membership is at an all-time low of just 500,000, while the establishment of the Scottish Parliament has provided domestic control over political action, replacing the Church's largely impotent political arguments.

George Newlands, professor of divinity at Glasgow University, said: "There is an assumption that the influence of the General Assembly has faded. There was a time when it was described as the voice of Scotland, particularly the Church and nation debate. I think that there will be people who miss this power and influence."

The opinion of some was that this year's General Assembly, under the stewardship of Sheilagh Kesting, 53, the first female minister to become moderator, was duller than previous years, but succeeded in avoiding needless confrontation. As the Rev Andrew MacLean, a former convener of the board of social responsibility, explained: "People forget the General Assembly is the annual business meeting of the Church - and business meetings are dull."

Yet there were two occasions when the Church appeared to avoid controversy and take a softer line than might at first have been expected. The decision that a ten-year study on human sexuality, an attempt to re-examine the Kirk's attitude to homosexuality, required yet more study was described as a classic fudge to avoid a schism between liberals and traditionalists. In the gallery, eyebrows were raised when the Rev Colin Renwick, convener of the World Mission Council, explained that the Church would not issue a direct condemnation of the Mugabe regime in Zimbabwe for fear of the consequences for churches there.

According to Mr Renwick, such silence, surprising to some, "does not indicate any less compassion for those in the country and concern about the regime". In his opinion, the General Assembly remains robust. "Our voice hasn't dimmed - the debates have been of a high standard. In fact I would describe them as deep, not dull." While Alison Twaddle, general secretary of the Church's guild, said she would characterise this assembly as "quiet and reflective".

For Morag Mylne, the convener of the Church and Society Council, the appearance of the Scottish Parliament has been welcome. "It's certainly a lot easier lobbying people in Holyrood than having to travel to London," she said. Miss Mylne believes the Church still speaks up for the good of Scotland. "When the Church speaks, it does so not for itself, but because close to its heart it has the health and welfare of the people of Scotland."

In the dining hall of New College, such communitarian values are reflected in the long trestle tables and stools on which the thrifty munch on sandwiches from Tupperware boxes, sitting beside their fellow delegates for whom fish and chips for £3.30, or a cheese and bacon flan, is a well-deserved reward after hours of, at times, tedious debate.

The ladies who lunch - whom The Scotsman joined briefly - were adamant that while their annual assembly has not been diminished by the arrival of the Scottish Parliament, their regret was that it had failed to follow their example. "I think of the level of grace and courtesy with which debates and discussions have taken place at the assembly and I'm sorry it has not been reflected at the parliament," said the Rev Isabel Whyte. The Rev Elizabeth Kenny argued that millions of Scots may not pass through a kirk door, but they still rely on, and deeply appreciate, the Church's network of social services, the largest in the country, after the government. "They know we will be there for them. If they are in trouble or need help they will beat a path to our door and they know we will help them as much as we can."

Later, after delegates headed back into the hall, one minister, who did not wish to be named, explained over a cup of coffee the Church of Scotland's dilemma. "It is trying to come to terms with its loss of status. You look at the pomp and ceremony at the beginning of the General Assembly, Prince Andrew, the Purse Bearer, Alex Salmond. It's about fusing that link between Church and State, but these symbols have less and less to do with reality. At which point, is it inappropriate to describe itself as the national Church?"

In the opinion of Professor David Fergusson, the head of the school of divinity at Edinburgh University, that time has come: "The Church is having to become, not the national Church, but a significant presence in a multi-faith and secular society. It is not the national Church of 50 years ago. It is more a Church of gathered congregations, rather than one that can represent the majority of Scots."

KEY DECISIONS (OR NOT)

• Condemned the replacement of the Trident nuclear deterrent.
• Called for troops to be pulled out of Iraq as soon as possible.
• Commissioned a report looking at the Kirk's theological stance on the death penalty.
• Decided not to condemn Zimbabwean leader Robert Mugabe.
• Brought in new legislation on preventing discrimination and bullying in the church.
• Called for more study on the issue of the church's stance on homosexuality.
• Agreed to consider giving ministers in civil partnerships the same pension rights as those with wives.
• Affirmed its resistance to nuclear power and its support for renewable energy.
• Articulated its opposition to the increasingly pernicious effects of gambling through the likes of casino-style websites.
• Agreed to look at the possibility of funding churches wishing to install green power sources.
• Failed to find a solution to complaints about the size and weight of new "melody" hymn books.