Ruth Gledhill writes in the Times about the Church of England (or at least the powers that be)  changing it's mind about the decision made by Synod last year:

Church legislators have backtracked on a decision
made by the General Synod, the Church’s governing body, last year to
consecrate women bishops with minimal concessions to opponents.

The Church will now be asked again to approve the plans for “super bishops”,
which were rejected in July last year and which will create a new class of
bishop, operating in traditionalist zones “untainted” by the spectre of
women bishops.

I can't help but wonder what is the point of Synod if a committee can be forced to go back on the decisions agreed on. And I can't help but wonder how long some women will stay in the Church if, every time a baby step is made towards including them, two large steps back are made (usually stepping on our heads along the way). It's not that I want to be a Bishop – as I've said many times, it's not my idea of a dream job. But I don't want to live in a church that thinks women are tainting it either.

Maybe we should start a new movement – campaigning for all women to leave the church en masse.  Perhaps that would change the minds of those men at the top who allow these abuses to continue just as significantly, and maybe a lot faster, than putting a nice face on it and accepting each setback.  It's been a long hard struggle for several generations of women to be heard by the Church at all. The Church has spoken its mind: all but a few who shout very loudly consider women to be essential and equal members. So how is it that once again we are being downgraded with this lame, cowardly,  bullying behaviour? And how is it that the guys in power think that they must include the bullies at any cost?

I know a few things about bullying. I know that you have to choose the right strategy at the right moment. I know that you don't allow people to hound you out of the playground or workplace by their constant denigrating comments. But I also know that there are times when the right thing to do is gather all your friends around you and run for it. There are other playgrounds.

The prophet Hosea gave a heartbreaking account of something that is known by countless generations of people who have endured forgivingly in faithless marriages: that there's a very fine line between being a faithful saint and being a doormat. But there comes a time when love becomes the willing acceptance of abuse. And it has to stop.