The decision to allow same-sex marriages in church will be a headache for Justin Welby

It may end up dominating the new Archbishop of Canterbury's tenure in the way that the women bishops debate has dominated Rowan Williams'.

As if he didn't have enough on his in-tray trying to sort out the mess over women bishops, the government's decision to permit same-sex marriage in church will create more problems for the incoming Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby.

When his appointment was announced, Welby was widely described as being a "staunch" opponent of same-sex marriage. But he has never used the language of, say, the Archbishop of York John Sentamu, who once claimed that to allow gay couples to get married would be to "torture the English language."  Instead, during his first press conference Welby promised to "listen very attentively to the LGBT communities and examine my own thinking prayerfully." But however his own thinking evolves, the change will inevitably call into question both the unity of the Church of England and its relationship with wider society. 

As the women's bishops debate also showed, the church can't afford to get too out of step with the nation from which it takes its name.  When it does, it raises awkward questions about its constitutional status and privileges, even about what it is for. 

The Church's official position, as set out in its response to the government's consultation earlier this year, is to oppose any move towards equalisation marriage between gay and straight couples.  Even the government's initial proposals, which would have prohibited any same-sex ceremonies in religious premises, went too far for the Anglican leadership. The document claimed that the change would "alter the intrinsic nature of marriage as the union of a man and a woman, as enshrined in human institutions throughout history." 

It also made legal arguments, casting doubt on the government's distinction between religious and civil marriage and stressing the historic obligation of the Anglican priests to marry couples resident in their parish, whether they were members of the church or not.  However, the Church of England has long had an exemption when it comes to marrying divorcees, and recently acquired one in respect of transsexuals, so there's no obvious reason why it shouldn't also have an exemption from being required to perform same-sex marriages.

The real problem for the established church - and for the new archbishop - will be internal rather than external.  Instead of vicars being forced by the state to perform gay marriages against their conscience, a more likely scenario will see clergy banned by the church from following their conscience by performing them. The official statement was not universally welcomed by Anglicans.  Many, in fact, denounced it.  The liberal grouping Inclusive Church put in its own submission, describing the ability of churches to offer same-sex ceremonies "a fundamental principle of religious liberty."  It was "of the utmost importance that objections to the principle of same-sex marriages by some religious groups should not be used as an excuse to obstruct other groups from acting in accordance with their own religious views."  Giles Fraser, perhaps the Church's highest-profile liberal, declared that he was "spitting blood" after reading the "ridiculous" official response, which he thought had "all the democratic authority of a  Putin election victory."

Such views probably still represent a minority view among practising Anglicans, in contrast to the push for women bishops - which, despite the disappointing outcome of the recent Synod vote, has clear majority support inside the church.  And as that vote showed, it's quite easy for opponents of change to put together a blocking minority in the Synod.  So it's hard to see a proposal to permit same-sex marriage winning the necessary two-thirds majority in all three houses.  It's very likely that religious organisations will be allowed to offer same-sex weddings on the same terms that they can already offer civil partnerships: that is, only if the group as a whole decides to accept it.  Individual priests will not be able to make the decision unilaterally. 

The Church of England officially supports civil partnerships but, unlike some other religious groups including the Quakers and the United Reformed Church, has made no move to permit the ceremonies in its churches.  Once same sex marriage becomes widely accepted, as it surely will once the doom-laden predictions of its opponents prove unfounded, this is likely to change.  There will be increasingly vocal calls from liberal clergy to marry same sex couples.  In Denmark, the national Lutheran Church already performs same sex weddings, with exemptions for individual ministers who have an objection. Such a solution could also work in the Church of England.  But not before another almighty row between the C of E's liberals and conservatives. It may end up dominating Justin Welby's tenure as archbishop in the way that the women bishops debate has dominated Rowan Williams'.  

Justin Welby. Photo: Getty
Belief, disbelief and beyond belief
Getty
Show Hide image

It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage