Criticising the Crew? Or, on metaphor and evangelical unity

My attention was drawn to a recent ‘Comment’ piece in Evangelicals Now – a monthly evangelical newspaper which I subscribe to, and which I value (both personally, and professionally, as a reader and occasionally contributor). It was to do with one of the latest episodes in the long-running drama (There’s no other word for it!) about how evangelicals (And other orthodox folk) in the Church of England are seeking to resist the trend towards a more progressive doctrine and practice around sexuality. The particular episode has been covered in both Evangelicals Now and The Church Times, and I’m less interested in the event itself, than the way a metaphor was used to discuss the idea of critiquing brothers and sisters in Christ.

Here’s the pertinent paragraph:

Nonetheless, we would be wise to be careful before rushing to critique St Helen’s and those who took part in this service (including retired Bishops Rod Thomas and Julian Henderson, St Ebbe’s Rector Vaughan Roberts, and the Church of England Evangelical Council’s John Dunnett). Representatives of New Wine and Holy Trinity, Brompton are also believed to have attended. Here’s why we should be slow to criticise: A helpful analogy has been drawn by the theologian Ian Paul. He compares C of E evangelicals to a flotilla of sailing boats, all moving ultimately in the same direction along a river, but, during that process, sailing into the wind – so that they appear to be criss-crossing with each other at various points while in fact all travelling towards the same ultimate destination. Or, to change the analogy, let us seek to avoid friendly fire which might damage the shared purpose of those contending within the C of E for truth when they are all under huge pressure emotionally, mentally and spiritually – for be in no doubt it is a spiritual battle.

I count Ian as a friend – and saw the facebook post with the flotilla in mind. Whilst I could see the point, unfortunately it falls apart fairly quickly if you know anything about sailing – particularly in the way that the EN Comment section takes it.

Consider this photo:

these boats are sailing upwind, to a fixed point, and have to balance the challenge of wind, current/tide, and the paths of other boats. But it isn’t a flotilla, it is a fleet, racing against each other, and in this sort of context, the boats are also all different. This is where the metaphor becomes interesting – even the untrained eye can see that the six boats in the above image are not all the same (in fact, the one with the purple sail, which is a spinnaker, used only when sailing downwind, and whilst it makes you go fast, it also means you can’t always go the most direct route, but I digress). And this is vital. This is an example of what we in the sailing world call a handicap race – where different boats have different ratings that allow them to compete fairly*.  Churches, in some ways, are a bit like boats – there are lots of similarities, but also significant differences. The boat with grey sails on the left of the image is a wooden Miracle dinghy, likely older, with two people in, whilst the white sail ‘2069’ is an RS Aero, which is a boat that is incredibly lightweight, and significantly more expensive, and sailed only by one person.

Competitive racing is not a good analogy for evangelical unity – we aren’t competitors with each other, or at least we shouldn’t be! Perhaps it is better for us to think about being on, say, a larger boat under sail, with crew, heading up wind together. The danger of this metaphor of a racing flotilla/fleet is that each boat is encountering different conditions by definition (indeed, the boats at the back of the fleet are in a worse position upwind, because the boats upwind cast a ‘wind shadow’, making it harder for those at the back to get to the front – perhaps an analogy could be that St Helens has done what it has done, but now that they’ve done it, they may make things harder for some other ‘boats’ with less resource, and less able crew). I recall one of my early experiences of Cowes Week, which at the time attracted hundreds of boats, where I was by far the youngest and most inexperienced member of the crew on a J109. I simply didn’t know as much as the others, and was less physically strong. But that made me useful, because my lighter weight and nimbleness meant I could go and do things down below when necessary, but when the wind blew up, even my teenaged self’s weight was useful ‘on the rail’, helping to flatten the boat going upwind. Consider this picture:

Notice the people hanging over the side of the boat? Straining? They are working together – every last bit of effort directed to the same end of flattening the boat, to keep the speed, and at the same time all waiting for the warning to tack, to change direction, and scramble over to the other side in something that (in a good racing crew) can be described as balletic. Sometimes, though, it goes wrong, and it’s more like a herd of toddlers missing the point. A crew only gets good, though, when it is coached, and dare I say criticised. The row of bodies on the rail of this boat are all in the same position – hanging over. One of them has his arms out – and I can just imagine him criticising the others for not sticking their arms out, for the minimal but marginal gain. That’s not friendly fire, but a form of coaching. It can be done badly, but it needs to be said that in the context of competitive big boat sailing, the team that puts in the max effort, will be more likely to do well.

In this article I’ve criticised a metaphor/analogy that has been over-egged – and I would imagine Ian Paul won’t mind me saying that I know a bit more about sailing than him (I am open to being wrong about that), whilst I’m confident he knows more about the Church of England. But critique is good, I think. It has to be done well, and it needs to be received well, and I think some questions can and should be asked of what happened at St Helens, not because of who or what was involved (though I do think there is a bit of doublethink/speak going on in terms of openly doing something but then not naming things, as I was surprised that the EN comment article has no author – if any one has read this far and is wondering, the author of this blog post is Thomas Creedy) but because surely as evangelicals we believe that we aren’t perfect, and can be challenged and grown. As someone who works for IVP, I could see Vaughan Roberts’ name in an article like this and think ‘ooh, gosh, Vaughan was there, it must be good, and can’t be criticised’. But that would be, I think, a bit silly. As an editor, it’s my job to engage authors ‘critically’, and that is because we have different roles in the same process (moving on from sailing to my passion of books) – the production of a book that points to Jesus. I think that it can be very easy to say something is beyond criticism, but the danger is that this becomes ‘trust us’, in a similar dynamic to how the Church of England Bishops have been saying ‘trust us’, without deserving that trust. We need to be able to ask questions, perhaps especially uncomfortable questions, otherwise we will fall (back) into some unhelpful and unhealthy cultures.

Consider Paul’s marvellous picture of the Church as a Body in 1 Corinthians 12. To re-apply it to the boating/sailing metaphor, we could imagine it thus:

There is one crew with many members. They have different roles, but all are vital, even if it might not look it. Careful criticism can improve the way the crew works together, sailing more safely, and being more competitive. When the crew wins, everyone wins, and they all celebrate together. [the image of the J109 above]

Whereas I would suggest that this would not be capturing the spirit of 1 Corinthians 12:

There is one fleet with many boats. Some sail alone, others with a friend or two. They are competitive with each other, and seek to beat the others. If one boat wins, another loses. Victory is not shared, and whilst we can celebrate the others’ success, we are not part of it. [the image of the fleet earlier on]

Changing the metaphor, I think, allows us to see that it is worth interrogating the language we use when talking about unity. I joked with a friend that I’m more bothered with the misrepresentation of the sailing sport than the issue at play, but I think considering the truth behind that imagery is helpful for helping us see that criticism can help, and that the kind of language we use is quite important. I think I’d rather think of churches together as a crew on one boat, occasionally criticising and coaching each other, but ultimately going in the same direction, rather than a competitive fleet. I’m reminded, as ever, of some of the words of Jesus in John 17, with which I’ll close. These verses make an excellent prayer:

²⁰ “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, ²¹ that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. ²² I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— ²³ I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

 

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*But the same challenge exists in ‘one design’ racing, where the boats are all technically identical. My 1994 Laser dinghy, which I’ve not updated anything on for about ten years, will be outclassed by a technically identical 2024 hull, just by dint of wear and tear. And that will be compounded, of course, once you compare my tired-dad-of-toddlers level of fitness, with for example an Olympian!