- to The Most Rev. Cherry Vann, Archbishop of Wales, offered a first glimpse of her leadership style in a presidential address to the church’s Governing Body. The church has been livestreaming the Governing Body’s two days of deliberations at the International Conference Centre in Newport.
The archbishop wore a black leather jacket atop her purple clerical shirt, and spoke in a soothing, soft voice.
The archbishop acknowledged early in her remarks that some Anglicans will struggle with receiving her role. “I’ve been encouraged and heartened by those who have assured me of their prayers, particularly those who can’t accept the ordination of women, never mind a woman in the role of bishop and archbishop; and others who struggle with the fact that there is now an Archbishop in Wales who is not only a member of the LGBTQI+ community but is living in a Civil Partnership. Thank you for your graciousness and for the assurance of your prayers. It gives me hope that amidst all our differences we can reach out to one another in prayer and so build a hopeful future together.”
The archbishop’s address focused mostly on how she intends to help the Church in Wales recover from its time of conflict, tough news stories, and the resignation of her predecessor, Archbishop Andy John.
“My own experience of Andy’s ministry was as Archbishop and I want to pay tribute to him in this work, not least with the Bench which is now a very different group to the one I joined back in 2020,” she said. “He encouraged a focus on prayer, reflection and honest conversation. Under his leadership we have gradually been able to be more open and vulnerable with one another and to gently challenge each other when we feel the need. It feels a good place to be. I, and I think the others too, now look forward to our meetings together. And I am grateful for his time with us and for the work that we were able to do together.”
The archbishop told of her experience of becoming a chaplain to deaf Christians in Manchester, England. She admitted to beginning this work “with attitudes and assumptions that I later realized were both arrogant and patronizing.”
“I came to realise that I had to meet them where they were and listen to their stories. Stories of having been caned at school for using sign language—they were there to learn to speak and they would only get on in the world if they could speak with the hearing majority. They were excluded, made to feel stupid because they couldn’t hear and so couldn’t join in—but few if any stopped to try and understand them. Their educational attainment was low because everything was taught through words; words spoken and written that they struggled to understand. After all, we learn both to speak and to read by listening,” she said.
“But they’d also been taught about a God who listens and who speaks, and about a Jesus who healed people who were deaf and without speech. God, then, was hearing; part of the dominant group that they felt excluded from. Where was the good news for people born deaf? One of the most poignant questions I’ve ever been asked is, Does God understand our sign language?”
The archbishop also drew on her experience with a small group in Manchester that included four women ordained to the priesthood and ordained men who did not accept women’s ordination.
“We agreed that we would meet, not to try and change each other’s minds but to seek a way forward together that somehow modeled our unity in Christ, despite our strong and seemingly irreconcilable views. Three times a year we met to pray, to share lunch and to talk. The first few years were intensely awkward and uncomfortable, but we persevered. And gradually, as we listened to one another, tried to understand one another’s position, and learnt to see one another as sisters and brothers in Christ, our friendship developed,” she said.
“We found healing and a sense of belonging together. We held vigils of prayer that strengthened our bonds of affection for one another and drew others in on the journey we were taking. Listening to one another, meeting each other where we were and seeking to love and understand one another was transformative not just for us but for the whole diocese. We’d come a very long way from the time when we’d feared one another and demonized one another.”
Douglas LeBlanc is an Associate Editor and writes about Christianity and culture. He and his wife, Monica, attend St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church in Henrico, Virginia.
