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Good morning. Proverbially, power corrupts. Add sexual predation to the exercise of power and the stench of that corruption becomes particularly foul. Last weekend saw the release of a truly shocking report. It was from the L’Arche organisation, which enables small groups of adults with learning disabilities and others to live and learn together. An investigation they commissioned had unearthed that their much revered founder, Jean Vanier, had, over a period of decades, and under the guise of spiritual guidance or counselling, coerced several women, including nuns, into sexual relationships with him. When tackled during his lifetime over one allegation, his response had been that the sex had been consensual. The matter was dropped. With yesterday's guilty verdict for Harvey Weinstein, it's a timely reminder that from film directors to therapists, from politicians to priests, the defence of consent is all too often heard when the powerful are challenged about sexual exploitation. They point to the fact that no complaint was raised at the time. Whilst some no doubt dissemble, others may be genuinely, if wilfully, ignorant of the barriers to reporting that operate. How hard must it be for a victim to complain, at a time when they are reliant on their abuser for employment and career opportunities or for spiritual and psychological healing? I was encouraged to hear, late last week, that one university institution is to seek to ban lecturers and supervisors having sexual relationships with those who attend their classes. A move backed by the vast majority of respondents to a survey of its members by the National Union of Students. Rather than reinforcing power imbalances, true consent, asked and given, subverts them. According to Luke’s Gospel, two thousand years ago, a young woman named Mary gave her consent, not to a sexual relationship, but to the request from the Angel Gabriel that she be the mother of Jesus. Later in her pregnancy, reflecting on the role she has freely and gladly embraced, she proclaims her praise of the God who, in her words, “casts down the mighty from their thrones and lifts up the lowly”. Mary’s song, known as the Magnificat, is still recited regularly in homes and churches all over the world, inspiring Christians to expose and challenge the abuse of power. Not far from my home in Manchester, the L’Arche organisation runs a small project. As well as living together, they operate a lunchtime cafe, serving hot meals in rooms attached to one of my churches. There’s a deep theology and spirituality underpinning their work. In challenging and disputing the power imbalance from which those with learning disabilities suffer, they are living out Mary’s time honoured words in their own work and lives, and inspiring others to do so too. I pray that L’Arche will survive and continue to thrive. My hope for them lies in the fact that it is that very challenge to ingrained power, which underpins their daily work, that has now equipped them to address and expose the abuses of their founder.