Bound together in love - Welsh Bishop Cherry Vann reflects on challenge & change for LGBTQIA+ Christians

Cherry Vann is Bishop of Monmouth, the first lesbian bishop in the Church in Wales, and in a civil partnership. As Archdeacon of Rochdale for 11 years, she celebrated with Open Table communities in Liverpool and Manchester, and supported a community consultation which led to forming the Open Table community in Derby.

WATCH Bishop Cherry’s intro video [2.5 mins]

Watch the recording of our Q&A with Cherry, in conversation with OTN Co-Chair Sarah Hobbs here [58 minutes]

WATCH the Pride Cymru Eucharist service here [59 mins]. Bishop Cherry’s reflection begins @ 20 mins.

ON SATURDAY 28th August 2021, the Right Revd Cherry Vann, Bishop of Monmouth and OTN Patron, shared this reflection at St John’s Church, Cardiff, for the Pride Cymru Eucharist hosted by the Faith Tent, which celebrates and gives thanks for our rich, diverse and inclusive faith communities by organising talks and a faith presence at Cardiff's Pride Cymru.

Today is a very special day for me - not just because I’m presiding and preaching at this significant event - which is a tremendous privilege and special in its own way - but because today is the sixth anniversary of my Civil Partnership to Wendy.

Our relationship actually goes back well over 25 years, and so there is another anniversary that marks our initial commitment to one another way back then. Nonetheless, there was something special about that CP ceremony; about making those vows and putting our relationship on a public and legal footing. So it’s a wonderfully happy ‘God-incidence’ that she and I are here on this day, celebrating amongst sisters and brothers whom we know support us and will be rejoicing with us; sharing together in the joy of this Eucharist.

Looking back over the years, as we all tend to do on such occasions, Wendy and I can see what a blessing our relationship has been to us: how God has drawn us closer to one another through the ups and downs of life; how God has refined and sifted our love as we’ve dared to share with one another our deepest hopes and fears, our brightest and our darkest moments. God has changed and transformed us through the gift of his love for one another. I would not be the person I am today if it had not been for my partnership with Wendy and I know that she would say the same; as would anyone who’s blessed to be in a loving, open and faithful relationship with another.

But it’s not just us who have changed. The people closest to us have also changed. Because of the fear, the ignorance, the prejudice that surround relationships that aren’t heterosexual, discovering that your daughter or son, your sister or brother is gay or trans can be challenging. It took me 20 years or more from realizing that I was lesbian to actually sitting down with my mum and dad and telling them. My mum wasn’t surprised. The signs had been there to see. And she was lovely. But my dad didn’t know what to say or how to respond. I remember vividly, him picking up his newspaper and resuming his reading. It felt like him putting up a very physical barrier as well as an emotional one. And it hurt. He came round in time and they both became amongst our strongest supporters. It became normal for them to refer to ‘Cherry and Wendy’ in conversation with others, as a matter of course and without thinking. Other members of the family took longer and some, I guess, still struggle.

You who are gathered here in St John’s and others who are with us online, who stand on the gloriously diverse rainbow spectrum of LGBTQIA+ people, will have your own stories.

And the Church has changed too. The Church in Wales now has an openly lesbian and civilly partnered bishop and that would not have happened even a few years ago. Thanks to people down the years who have spoken out, who have challenged the institution and who have had the courage to be unashamedly who they are, the church has changed and is changing as an increasing number of people come to see that love is love, faithfulness is faithfulness, whatever the myriad ways that is expressed.

But all this is not without its cost. Learning to love and accept ourselves for who we are is difficult for any human being. But for those of us who are LGBTQIA+ it’s even more challenging. We learn from our earliest years to hide an intrinsic part of who we are - sometimes even from ourselves - because of the fear of rejection, of losing friends, of not fitting in. We learn to pretend, to talk of ‘I and me’ rather than ‘we and us’ and that can feel dishonest as we struggle with the guilt of what amounts to living a lie. It can take us longer than most to be able to declare to ourselves, never mind anyone else, that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. And even when we do come to know ourselves to be searched out, known and loved by the One who created us, that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to trust the essence of who we are to those who might just reject us and make life very miserable indeed.

Which is why this Eucharist and events like it are so vitally important. Here we can gather as sisters and brothers in Christ and experience something of the freedom of what it’s like to be truly ourselves. We can celebrate and rejoice in the people God has made us to be and know ourselves loved for who we are, not just by God but by those around us; members together of the body of Christ; held and bound together in his love. Most importantly, we are reminded once again that we are precious and honoured in God’s sight. As we draw close to the one whose love led him to the cross, as we dare to open ourselves to the one who sees us just as we are, we hear him say to each and every one of us, ‘Do not be afraid, for I am with you. I will gather you, bring you, draw you to the heart of my very self. Because I love you.’

And as we leave this celebration today, with all that it has held for us, each of us must find our own way forward in the company of the God who travels with us.

For some, it will mean finding the courage to speak out, to be unashamedly themselves, challenging the powers and systems that bind and hold LGBTQIA+ people and others in fear. Many such people have gone before us, paving the way, with many paying a high price for it. Without them we wouldn’t be meeting today as openly and as safely as we are. As someone said to me not long after my consecration, ‘you are only here because of what other LGBTQIA+ people have been and done before you.’ I don’t forget that.

And yet, not all are called to be campaigners and for some it takes time, sometimes a long time, to find the confidence, the courage, the trust to be out and open about who we are and who we love, even to our family and friends, never mind the world and church at large. We each need to find our own way - the way that God is leading us - and honour the decisions of others to live their way: others whose particular history and circumstances we do not know.

So, in all things, let us continue to love, with the love God has blessed us with; to love even those who would reduce us and our relationships to an ideology. Because love changes things; and love changes people; and love is of God. Those of us who are blessed with a same-sex partner to love and to be loved by know without a shadow of a doubt how transforming and life changing and life-giving such a deep and abiding love can be. It is no different a love for us as it is for heterosexual couples. Love, after all, is love.

Now to him, by whose power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations for ever and ever. Amen

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