We live in an age of binaries. Ever angrier political dialogue and the soundbite debates of social media demand that we take simple “for or against” positions on highly complex issues. Are you leave or remain? Are you pro or anti-immigration? Are you an eco-warrior or a climate change denier? Are you pro-Israel or pro-Palestine? Those who feel unable to comply with such simple either/ors are often made to feel weak or indecisive, as if they don’t have the guts for the battle. Nuance is derided in an age of binaries.
The rabbinic tradition upon which Christianity draws so heavily is infinitely more subtle. There it is dispute and debate that reveals truth. Your opponent in a disagreement is not your enemy. They are your partner in a shared endeavour of discerning answers and solutions. And ideally there are no winners or losers. As you discern together, either you are shown to be right or you learn something that you did not know before.
Of course, such an outcome depends on having the right posture. It means listening in order to understand and learn from, rather than to defeat, one’s opponent. Critically, such a posture of listening must never mean that we are silent when we see hatred, prejudice or discrimination, which must always be condemned. But such a posture usually means avoiding simple binaries to seek together new or unexpected truths or solutions.
This is precisely the style of debate that Christians see in the life of Jesus. For example, in St John’s Gospel, Jesus is presented with a woman who is caught in the very act of adultery. Her accusers essentially ask a binary question: should she be stoned or should she not? But Jesus will not be trapped by so misleading a demand. He writes in the dust with his finger (perhaps a reference to the Torah written by the finger of G-d) and then responds: “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” And the accusers drift away one by one, not defeated but made to reflect on their own lives by a response that moves them beyond the binary to learn something new about themselves.
This for me carries an important message about how the Church of England (a national Church established by law and holding legal responsibility for the “cure” or every soul in the nation, regardless of faith) should approach the highly complex issues surrounding Middle Eastern politics. We should listen attentively. We must hear the cry of the fast-disappearing Palestinian church and their experiences of suffering and intense pain. And we must equally hear the cry of Jewish communities in our own nation, many of whom live in such fear of a rising tide of antisemitism that they wonder if they have a future in this nation.
But whilst we listen, adopting a simplistic “for or against” binary position undoes our historic calling. Like Jesus, we need to be listening in such a way that fosters dialogue and mutual understanding. It is not within the Church of England’s power to resolve the conflict in the Holy Land. But that conflict has massive expressions in the UK at local level, especially in towns such as those I serve in Lancashire. If we can maintain the trust of all sides, we can be a place where prayer can happen, dialogue take place and unlikely relationships be built.
The problem with the recently debated Palestine Kairos motion, one that felt to me to be so ill-judged that I did not feel able even to vote, is that the Church of England’s General Synod has taken a side. In one of the world’s most complex conflicts, we have fallen for the binary trap. After amendments, the motion did state that we should “hear” rather than “receive” documents such as Kairos II. But these semantic distinctions mean little in the context of such a visceral conflict. And by naming that document, one that uses such provocative language and, as was argued in Synod, contravenes the IHRA definition of antisemitism which the bishops agreed in 2018, we have created winners and losers. One side rejoices. The other feels bitterly betrayed. The task of Christian leaders who wish to be peacemakers and reconcilers locally is rendered far harder.
Of course, as a Christian I want to stand with the precious, living stones who are the Christians of the Holy Land. As someone who shares friendships with Muslim neighbours, I want to understand their concerns and fears. But at the same time my family on my father’s side is Jewish and can also tell stories of oppression and displacement. They were driven out of Lithuania during the pogroms. My father moved to the Jewish community in St Anne’s to find refuge during the Blitz. I want to hear all sets of experiences. So, I deeply regret the offence that an ill-worded and ill-timed motion has caused to the Jewish community in this country and beyond. I am profoundly sorry that this motion will have added to the mood of fear that so many Jewish people in the UK are experiencing.
There is much more, of course, to the Church of England than those who gather for General Synod. I am pleased to hear that so many local churches are reaching out to Jewish brothers and sisters to reassure, and I have had such meetings myself. We need to make it abundantly clear that to “hear” does not mean to “accept” Kairos II and certainly does not justify employing the language of the document. But the most important step the Church of England can take at this stage is to reflect anew on its historic vocation in relation to a multi-cultural nation. We need to return to the example of the one we call the Messiah in order to avoid simple binaries and, by listening attentively to a range of voices, find truth in unexpected places.
Philip North is the Bishop of Blackburn
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