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The Revd Paul Bennett: a Reflection on his murder & its implications for the rest of us

By Alun Brookfield.

The murder, on the doorstep of his vicarage in Trecynon, of the Revd Paul Bennett, a week ago as I write, meant that the only conversations I had in the parish for the next few days were on that subject. Paul’s parish is just 15 miles from my own (although in a different Diocese) and naturally my parishioners were concerned for my safety and that of my colleagues in the Diocese. They wanted to know whether it had frightened me; whether I would now lock my front door when I was in the house (I don’t usually); whether we needed additional security devices; was it a one-off incident and should people phone before coming to the Vicarage?

It was by no means easy to answer some of those questions. Others were easy. No- of course there’s no need to phone before calling at the vicarage. No, of course it’s not going to affect the way I do my job. No, of course I’m not going to be fitting extra security devices to the vicarage. And no, I’m not that easily frightened.

Other questions were more difficult. We don’t yet know whether this was a one-off incident, but the chances are that it probably was. Nor do we know (at the time of writing) the full story of what happened. Was it drug-related? Or was the attacker mentally unbalanced? Did Paul refuse him money for drugs? Did Paul attempt to manhandle the man? And why was the killer carrying a knife anyway?

But the most difficult question is, of course, “Why?”. Not just why was a vicar attacked, but why did God allow it to happen?

To that question, although I know all the theological answers, the only one I can give at this moment is that I don’t know. I’m struggling with it as much as my parishioners are. Of course there’s the answer most of us use at particularly tragic funerals from time to time: we don’t know why some people seem to have to suffer more than others, but we do know that we’re all better people for having travelled the journey of suffering with them. But that doesn’t yet make sense with regard to Paul’s death. There is no obvious reason for the brief suffering of the vicar, the sudden cutting off of his life, and the ongoing suffering of his wife and family and the congregations he served. Only time will tell.

But Paul’s death raises other considerations which are not always taken seriously by church authorities, namely that of how we protect clergy from such violent assault and how we equip them to deal with it.

Thankfully, it is unusual for the clergy to be subjected to physical attack. There are approximately 25,000 ministers of all denominations in England and Wales, and perhaps on average once every five years, one is murdered. That means that the odds of me suffering the same fate today are so miniscule as to be not worth considering as I go about my parish duties. I’m sure the vast majority of my colleagues would shrug their shoulders and get on with their job, heedless of any danger.

Nevertheless, I have been attacked by a parishioner who, although he usually restricts his behaviour to verbal and written abuse, has on one occasion threatened me with assault and on another occasion has actually thrown a couple of ineffectual punches. As far as I know, there is no research information on how often such incidents occur.

Other colleagues have told me of their being attacked by people who were mentally unstable enough to think that they had a mission from God to assault or kill church ministers. Such mentally unstable people are more common that we sometimes realise - a lady in my parish who works for the mental health authorities tells me (quite seriously!) that she ‘sections’ half a dozen 'Jesuses' every year, and that’s just in our area!

There are, it seems to me, three situations which carry the potential of serious violence involving ministers of religion. First, of course, is the caller at the door, asking for money, and turning abusive or violent when offered an alternative.

Second, it is possible that a pastoral visit to a distressed parishioner could turn violent if someone in the house is under the influence of drugs or alcohol. An unwary cleric could easily find himself/herself trapped in a room with a frightened parishioner being threatened by an out of control attacker.

Third is the possibility of a violent intruder into an act of worship, waving a knife and threatening worshippers.

In none of these instances is flight an easy option. Anyway, in most cases, it is unlikely that an average minister could outrun a younger attacker. So the only option is to know how to defuse the situation, and that takes skills which are well known to police and other emergency service workers, but completely unknown to the average minister unless they have previously worked in such environments.

I was fortunate to be ordained just before the tragic death in Toxteth of the Revd Christopher Grey, in circumstances eerily similar to those surrounding the death of Paul Bennett. As a result of Chris Grey’s death, Bristol Diocese (where I was ordained) organised special training for clergy in how to deal with situations where a knife-wielding drunk, druggie or lunatic is threatening either oneself or one’s friends or family.

I was relieved that they didn’t try to teach me how to grapple with a knife-wielding attacker (apart from giving the excellent advice that, if things do get out of control, it’s essential not to look at the knife - concentrate on the hand holding the knife). Rather, they taught us how to spot the danger signs before entering a house (so as to know NOT to enter the house!); how to know whether the attacker had ever done this before (apparently, it’s in the way they hold the knife); how to identify the moments when it is possible to seize control of the situation; how to actually seize and maintain control; how to protect everyone else in the situation; and how to defuse the tensions.

Please notice that I am not advocating that all clergy should be trained in advanced martial arts techniques by members of the SAS. We are men and women of peace, and for most of us it would go against the grain to be expected to behave ourselves in a violent incident.

Nor am I suggesting that such training as I have outlined above would necessarily have saved either Chris Grey or Paul Bennett, but it might have given them a chance of surviving without injury to anyone.

I am suggesting, however, that it is essential that all church leaders be trained in how to handle themselves in these situations. We need to be taught the same techniques used by the emergency services to defuse potentially explosive situations, to bring a return to the peace we seek, to bring help to a troubled soul, to be the peace-making presence of the risen Lord in the midst of tumult.

Hopefully, we will never have to face such a crisis, but it would be no bad thing if every one of us were prepared to do so. And perhaps - just perhaps - the saving of another minister’s life would help to give some value and meaning to the deaths of Paul Bennett, Chris Grey and others.