by Julie Clague and Nicola James 

Welcome. The process of editing this issue of Open House Scotland, on all things ecumenical, has itself proven to be one of ecumenical dialogue between co-editors and writers, and now we hope readers too. Dialogue in its broadest terms means conversation, shared silence even, but also adjacency of physical space – page by page. The very act of collecting and publishing pieces from various Christian traditions is evidence of a willing unity of purpose, fertile with reader response. We have thus continued Open House’s active discourse, and with it an emerging and ever-evolving open ecumenical community: a community text with a ‘felt presence’. Paradoxically, it is in our collective centre of purpose whilst abiding in our differences, that Open House finds itself in the early days of what Stanley Fish once described as an ‘interpretive community’.

This seems particularly important for our time: for we are on the move. Churches and meeting places across Scotland have become redundant and are sold. Glasgow Quakers for instance have sold their house and are now using space hired from the Unitarians, previously rented by Buddhists. We are one of a band of churches travelling, as we did in the early days of our formation, with the ‘tent of the meeting’, returning with hope to that first site which is wherever we are gathered and which early Friends called ‘Primitive Christianity’. In other churches across Scotland ministers, priests and congregations also find themselves picking up their tent and, if not walking, certainly covering ever longer distances. We are all of us meeting however, both in this publication and in the challenges of sharing worship space so that we may continue or even begin our lives together - as of the early church - reconvened.

Scotland has a history of diaspora. Which one of our various ancestors, if we looked back far enough, would not echo this sentiment written by one elderly Ross-shire Catholic Donald Gobha Chisholm who, fetched by his sons, joined the Pictou for its return voyage to Nova Scotia:

Bha mi og ann a Strathglass,/`S bha mi `n duil nach rachainn as,/Nis gabhaidh mi `n ratreuta//Na biodh eagal oirbh mu n chuan; Faicibh mar sgoilt a Mhuir Ruadh./Tha cumhachdan an Ti tha shuas/An diugh cho buan s an ceud la.

When I was young in Strathglass/I had no thought of leaving there;/now…I too shall leave//Do not fear the sea; mind how the Red Sea was divided./The powers of God above/are as strong today as on the very first day.

This journal issue then is not just a collection, but recollection. It is a text that, in its intention, is similar to the fragile years of the first centuries in the early church, known in the hearts before even it was ever written in the texts with which we are familiar today. Such communities are what we are harking forward to now. Because as pilgrims, and necessarily travelling light, we know that claiming Christ for a closed community is a burden for all concerned: it is neither receptive nor hospitable. Openness to the new and unfamiliar in the stranger is very possibly entertaining the angels of our better ecumenical natures unawares.

How have our September contributors joined the dance of ecumenism in these times? Rev Stuart Wilson of Glasgow’s High Kirk, St Mungo’s Cathedral, sets the ground with two companion articles. The first considers the enduring achievement of Vatican II’s landmark Decree on Ecumenism, Unitatis Redintegratio, or the ‘Restoration of Unity’ (1964). The second asks how well Catholics have fared in advancing the cause of Christian unity in the intervening sixty years. In the post-Vatican II era, is Catholic engagement with the ecumenical movement to be regarded as a success or a failure? Wilson’s answer is informed by some recent Scottish examples of ecumenism proving that, if it is signs of success we seek, we need look no further than our home ground.

The very particular ecumenical context of the British Isles has given rise to one of the most significant ecumenical gamechangers since the Council. Receptive Ecumenism, a pioneering project of the Centre for Catholic Studies at Durham University, has gone global in its reach and impact in the three decades of its existence. Two articles in this themed issue help us understand why. Dr Gregory Ryan, who with Prof Paul Murray is one of the chief proponents of Receptive Ecumenism, discusses the ecumenical character and appeal of the synodal way that is defining the course of the contemporary Catholic Church in ‘Seeking unity to journey together’. Ryan explains how the Durham Centre for Catholic Studies is applying the twin methods of synodality and Receptive Ecumenism to forge stronger ecumenical ties across the Christian Churches in the UK.

The grassroots fostering of an ecclesiology from below is taken up by Dr Mary Cullen in ‘Receptive ecumenism and whole body ecclesiology’. What if our churches offered more inclusive and participatory places and processes, where the gifts and involvement of each member of Christ’s body contributed to the whole? The notion of whole body ecclesiology is another home-grown theological insight that is feeding theological reflection and interdenominational dialogue in the UK and beyond. First used at the turn of the century by the United Reformed Church in its trilateral dialogues with the Church of England and Methodist Churches, it has been taken up by Catholic theologian Paul Lakeland in his work on Receptive Ecumenism. Mary Cullen builds on the work of Lakeland and others to explore the potential of whole body ecclesiology for the Catholic Church and its synodal way.

The concept of whole body ecclesiology might fruitfully be applied to relations between the Churches of the East and the West. Pope John Paul II frequently described Eastern and Western Christianity as two lungs of the one Church. He lamented the split between East and West and, in a receptive ecumenical key, highlighted the indispensable contribution of Orthodoxy to all things Christian. In his 2001 Apostolic Letter Novo Millennio Ineunte 48 he writes:

I look with great hope to the Eastern Churches, and I pray for a full return to that exchange of gifts which enriched the Church of the first millennium. May the memory of the time when the Church breathed with ‘both lungs’ spur Christians of East and West to walk together in unity of faith and with respect for legitimate diversity, accepting and sustaining each other as members of the one Body of Christ.

The respiratory metaphor, we are told, was first used by Russian Orthodox scholar, poet and convert to Roman Catholicism Vyacheslav Ivanov (d. 1949), and came to John Paul via the great Catholic ecumenist Yves Congar OP. In a most welcome contribution to this issue, Russian Orthodox scholar Dr Maxim Venetskov, of the University of Glasgow, celebrates the distinctive character and riches of Orthodoxy.

Sacred scripture is the sine qua non of all Christian life. As our shared inheritance and enduring inspiration, the scriptures lie at the heart of all ecumenical endeavours, whether at the formal organisational or community-led grassroots level. In ‘Scripture and ecumenism’, Rev John McLuckie, Rector of Old Saint Paul’s Episcopal Church Edinburgh considers three ways that the scriptures nourish Christian communities across the denominations: in our liturgical life through the use of the Common Lectionary; in our spiritual and prayer life, whether through prayer apps or practices such as lectio divina; and through the use of contextual bible study to inform our community empowerment and community organising activities. As Quakers say, scripture always ‘speaks to our condition’.

The Iona Community is synonymous with ecumenism in Scotland. For close to ninety years, it has modelled an inclusive form of Christian community living. Its origins lie in Church of Scotland minister, George MacLeod’s desire to address the social divisions created by social inequality: a mixed band of the well-heeled and unemployed would live and labour together to rebuild Iona Abbey one stone at a time. One man’s vision inspired a global movement. Rev Ruth Harvey, Church of Scotland minister and Quaker, and Leader of the Iona Community draws on scripture, history and theology to explain how the Iona Community has grown from its small island beginnings into an international organisation. A core membership follows a community Rule of Life based on Benedictine and Columban spiritual traditions, while a wider fellowship lives the Iona ethos by belonging to one of nine justice-themed Common Concern Networks.

Throughout the centuries, Christianity has been shaped by reform movements seeking to correct doctrinal and ecclesiological errors, and revivalist movements seeking to promote personal conversion and spiritual renewal. The eighteenth-century revivalist and founder of Methodism, John Wesley (d. 1791) encouraged the pursuit of Christian perfection, personal holiness and good works among his followers. Rev Prof Dion Forster draws out the social implications of Wesleyan theology in ‘Towards a Wesleyan social ethics for a fractured world’, arguing that civic engagement, faithful discipleship, and public witness are part and parcel of Wesley’s vision. As an illustration of how a Wesleyan public theology might be implemented in practice, Forster highlights a British ecumenical initiative, the Joint Public Issues Team (JPIT). A collaboration between the Baptist Union of Great Britain, the Methodist Church and United Reformed Church, JPIT’s capacity-building aims seek to enable churches from across the denominational divides to campaign, advocate, and partner together on social questions. JPIT’s approach involves a fivefold process of listening, learning, praying, speaking, and acting – a practice with evident parallels to the see-judge-act methodology of Catholic Social Teaching and the synodal emphasis on prayerful listening and discernment.

Denominational disagreements about the nature of priesthood remain a stumbling block to Christian unity. In his study of Lutheran, Presbyterian, and Catholic understandings of priesthood, Edward McGarvey seeks to diffuse the disagreements and identify common ground. Although ministerial function is understood and instituted differently across the Churches, each tradition affirms that all Christians share in Christ’s priesthood through baptism. This common priesthood - the priesthood of all believers - underpins all Christian ministry. Debates over priestly ordination, the sacraments and ecclesial authority cannot be ignored. They can, however, be situated within a wider theological conspectus. McGarvey argues that ‘the path to unity lies not in collapsing theological distinctions but in deepening mutual understanding’. ‘Modern ecumenical dialogue’, he states, ‘shows that these differences can be understood as complementary, allowing the traditions to recognise the work of Christ in each other’s communities’.

The Episcopal Church of the United States of America has long been recognised as one of the most progressive forces within the Anglican Communion and wider Church. Its early move to confer priestly ordination on women and openly gay people was greeted by some Christians as a necessary step for a faith community committed to human dignity and equality. For others, it signalled a departure from accepted tradition, a rejection of biblical authority, and a barrier to Christian unity. If anything, attitudes have hardened and rifts intensified in the fifty years since the first ordinations. Sister Alison Joy Whybrow OSB and Julie Clague turn back the clock to examine this turbulent period in US Anglican history and its ecumenical implications through the life story of Ellen Marie Barrett - for many years associate priest at St Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral Glasgow, and the first openly gay person to be ordained in the Anglican Communion.

Where do you stand when it comes to working with Christians of other denominations? What are your red lines? For Stuart Patterson, those questions became real when he moved to Northern Ireland, where denominational identity is freighted with historical, cultural and political meaning. ‘I didn’t even know what ecumenism meant’, he tells us. Patterson’s work with Christians in Northern Ireland taught him that ecumenism begins when one looks beyond the denominational labels that categorise difference to meet and engage with people where they are at.

Pope Francis urged the Church to go out to the peripheries. Canon William Maclean’s priestly ministry has taken him to the Outer Hebrides to the majority Protestant northern isle of Lewis and Harris, where Presbyterian Free Churches dominate and Sabbath observance prevails. In ‘The evolution of ecumenism in Lewis and Harris’, Rev Maclean offers a captivating account of life for the tiny but growing population of Catholics on the island for whom ecumenism opens a pathway to wider acceptance, fuller integration, and deepening trust.

Forget pub crawls. Have you ever been on a church crawl? Have you ever made a big noise or risked breaking the law to demonstrate against fracking, or some other cause you care about? Small-scale ecumenical activities, community organising, and climate protests are the examples of practical witness that inform Dr Ruth Dunster’s ‘Ecumenism with the Green Jellybeans’. Her key insight? Whether in food banks, soup kitchens, or marching with Christian environmentalists, ‘ecumenism thrives in conditions of praxis’.

 Rev Liz Crumlish’s reflection on Scripture, ‘In the company of the saints’, returns us to the gospel account of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4.5-42), named as Saint Photini in Orthodox Christianity. Crumlish characterises the exchange as a communion of shared vulnerability that leads to the elevation of a woman’s voice, simply through its being received. The boundary-crossing openness and receptivity of Jesus and Photini spurred mutual dialogue and, Crumlish suggests, mutual growth. The gospel narrative surely offers lessons for all inter-denominational, inter-religious and inter-cultural engagement.

The history of the British Isles and its monarchies cannot be told without reference to the break with Rome, the rise of Protestantism, and the ensuing political and religious turmoil with its bloody consequences. Into this chaos, Mary Queen of Scots (1542-1587) was born.

Rev Charles Coyle discusses cinematic portrayals of these tumultuous times, focusing especially on Josie Rourke’s 2018 Mary Queen of Scots, and he explores the challenge of distinguishing fact from fiction in film.

From the 2026 Paxton music festival, Paul Matheson reviews ‘Meditatio’, medieval music performed by the Amyas Ensemble in the Norman church of St Cuthbert, Norham. With its connections to St Aidan and St Cuthbert, Norham is steeped in history. Matheson’s absorbing account describes how the musicians took the audience back in time; locus and limitless horizon blending aesthetically and theologically, in a meeting of sacred space and sacred music.

On then to poetry and the poetic. We have two original pieces contributed by Stephen Eric Smyth. ‘Antioch Moment’ explores how fear and the familiar are enemies of change. Smyth’s deeply elemental poem ‘A Wee Iona Wind’ shows how a seemingly threatening wind can in fact gather us all in.

We hope this issue of Open House captures something of the richness of Christianity and its many traditions. We have endeavoured to show how ecumenism in Britain is flourishing. Members of all denominations are moving on from centuries of distrust and division to embrace their shared identity in Christ; and it is as brothers and sisters in Christ that we can each carry an ecumenical stone to rebuild the Church.

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Image: The logo of the World Council of Churches