LAST Sunday – Vocations Sunday in the Catholic calendar – as our parish priest exhorted the parents in the congregation to pray for their children to join the clergy, I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that I belonged to the Church of Scotland.
It's not that I'm against my own devoting their life to religious service per se. But how could any loving parent seek for their sons and daughters a life in which women are treated as second-class citizens and any expression of sexuality is viewed a
s a hindrance rather than an asset to leading a flock?
The Catholic Church, it seems, would rather see the number of priests dwindle away to nothing than take a more progressive approach to potential recruits. The Church of Scotland, on the other hand, has always appeared to be a beacon of enlightenment: female clergy since the 1960s; parishioners allowed to choose their own ministers; and a more open-minded attitude to thorny issues such as contraception, abortion and homosexuality.
Now, however, as the language used in the row over gay minister Scott Rennie becomes increasingly intemperate, the Church of Scotland's image as a comparatively benign institution is under threat. Last week, it emerged that 7,000 people, including almost a fifth of all Kirk ministers, had signed a petition calling for the General Assembly to block Rennie's appointment as minister of Queen's Cross Church, Aberdeen, though 86 per cent of its parishioners voted for him.
The assembly is due to rule on the issue later, after 12 members of the local presbytery – which is required to ratify the decision – refused to do so. An article in the church magazine Life And Work, supporting Rennie, brought a swarm of bigots scurrying out from behind the skirting boards and raised the spectre of the kind of schism that led to the forming of the Free Church of Scotland in the 19th century. So nasty has the whole affair become that evangelical group Forward Together was forced to apologise to Rennie, for suggesting he left his wife for his partner David, when, in fact, he didn't even confront the issue of his own sexuality until after his divorce.
Many of those who have spoken out against Rennie have taken the route beloved of fundamentalists: using snippets of scripture out of context. As if that one short line in Leviticus: "And with mankind thou shalt not lie as with womankind; it is an abomination" is enough to negate the message of love, tolerance and humanity that pervades the New Testament. They insist the word of God is absolute, not something that ought to be reinterpreted in the context of modern mores, conveniently forgetting that Leviticus also recommends stoning rebellious children.
It must feel very secure, mustn't it, to inhabit a black and white universe where right and wrong is clearly delineated and you can resort to dogma whenever anything slightly challenging comes your way. It's more difficult to pick your own path through the moral maze; to try to see the world from someone else's perspective; to find a balance between the need to obey rules and the need for flexibility.
Too great a reliance on doctrine hardens the hearts of some and makes hypocrites out of others, as Rennie knows only too well. Raised in a conservative evangelical church, he knew his attraction to other men was considered "sinful", so, for many years, he did what he thought best: he ignored it. As he pursued his dream of becoming a minister, he lived a conventional, heterosexual life, marrying his wife Ruth and having a baby daughter. After his marriage broke down, however, he realised that – by suppressing an integral part of his identity – he was not only living a lie, but insinuating that there was something wrong with the way he, and other gay men, had been created. It took a long time for him to reconcile his own sexuality with the Bible's teaching. But, by the time he applied for the post at Queen's Cross, he was so determined to have everything out in the open, he sent letters to all the parishioners, outlining his position.
You have only to read the piece he wrote for OneKirk Journal to appreciate what an asset Rennie would be to any parish. Thoughtful, measured and completely lacking in rancour, he seems as imbued with Christian values as many of those who oppose his appointment seem devoid of them. It is clear that unlike most of those who find themselves at the vanguard of the gay rights debate, Rennie, who had lived with David while working as a minister at Brechin Cathedral – was not looking for a crusade.
None the less, his description of what it's like to live in fear of your own identity makes a powerful case for increased understanding, while his obvious integrity demonstrates that people's innate goodness is unconnected to their sexuality.
The spiritual journey he has undertaken makes him ideally suited to offer support to his parishioners. Yet to his critics, his faith, strength and compassion, and the respect he invokes in everyone who knows him, are as nothing compared to the stark fact of his homosexuality. If the Church of Scotland had any sense, it would be rejoicing that, at a time when new recruits to all Christian denominations are hard to come by, it still has the power to attract ministers of Rennie's calibre. More than that, it would be using him to demonstrate its continuing relevance in an increasing secular world.
Let us hope that when it makes its decision, it approves his appointment – and lets those who can't deal with it walk. After all, any ministers so obsessed with sexuality they fail to see the human being, are not assets but millstones round the Church's neck. It would be better off without them.
