There's back-story here. Dave Smith had been divorced before, decades earlier. That's why he was never tenured as full rector but was nominally a "priest in charge". But the story goes even further back, to Dave's father Bruce.

Bruce Smith, who died in 2001, was a classic Sydney establishment figure: a Sydney Grammar old boy and state swimming champion, he had studied divinity in London, lectured at Oxford, undertaken archaeological digs in the Mediterranean, published two volumes of poetry and, through the 1960s and 70s, engaged in televised debates about Christianity. Ordained in 1956, he was also a revered lecturer at Moore Theological College in Sydney -- until he got divorced.

That story ended benignly enough. Bruce found employment teaching classics at Grammar (1975-93) and in later years became sufficiently reconciled with Moore College to resume part-time lecturing there. For his son, however -- who attributes his own survival so far, as a radical in a conventional establishment, in part to his father's aura -- things look significantly more grim.

Father Dave is 58. He loves the "broader" Anglican liturgy and its traditions. The Jensens, a stalwart Anglican family, were his childhood friends and, as Father Dave told me this week: "Dad always felt there was room for me within the Anglican church." It's his lifelong vocation.

He has a young child. When in May 2019 he told the bishop of his marriage breakdown, he was given till year's end to restore it. When that didn't happen, a termination date was set: Easter this year, the time of rebirth. His licence as acting rector was revoked and he was given a general licence as assistant minister in the parish until December. Then he'd be out.

Why? The Biblical rationale, from 1 Timothy, advises being a "man of one woman". But this exhortation to faithfulness neither bans divorce nor requires leaders to be perfect. After all, what of forgiveness? What of universal love? What of judge not, lest ye be judged?

The Sydney Anglican teaching pivots not on love, but on its opposite, control. The bizarre "headship" doctrine requires a man to keep control of his marriage. It requires the woman to "submit". It gives the organisation hierarchy outright control. All very Handmaid's Tale.

Meanwhile, says Father Dave, he has been effectively ostracised. In nine months he has conducted one wedding and an "unofficial" baptism, outside the church. Nothing inside. He is excluded from emails and staff meetings. And when a few parishioners asked him to conduct a regular midweek prayer service and eucharist, he was denied permission.

The church says he wasn't sacked but encouraged to resign. Smith says he had a gun to his head. Either way, he'll lose both house and livelihood. What will he do? He tries "not to think about that". He could work outside the Sydney diocese, except that his children are here. So for now, he's focused on launching his book, Christians and Muslims Can Be Friends.

All this, because a relationship ended. There is a subtle implication of fault. The rest of us are so accustomed to no-fault divorce that any talk of blame seems clumsy, simplistic. But, says Father Dave, "I was explicitly told, if I could show it was the other person's fault, there'd be no problem." And Sydney Anglican powerbroker Rev Dr Michael Jensen confirmed to me that, to the best of his knowledge, Father Dave was given a six-month grace period to show he was not at fault.

Is he at fault? Well, in truth, in a marriage, who's to say? "I've got lots of faults," says Father Dave, "of course. But I'm not interested in trying to justify myself, or make the other person look bad."

The question is, why should he have to? An Anglican minister is paid and accommodated not on the basis of an employment contract but the all-important licence, which can be revoked at the bishop's pleasure. It's a vulnerable position. Perhaps that in itself is a spiritual lesson. But what of the institution administering that harsh lesson?

You might think the church had more pressing issues, in a world riven by hate, charred by greed and choked by hubris, than keeping people's bedroom habits in line. You might wish for spiritual leaders to lift their heads from Project Woman Control sufficiently to see what is actually bleeping red right now. The need to save the world by listening to it, working with it, loving it.

Elizabeth Farrelly is a Sydney-based columnist and author who holds a PhD in architecture and several international writing awards. She is a former editor and Sydney City Councilor. Her books include 'Glenn Murcutt: Three Houses', 'Blubberland; the dangers of happiness' and 'Caro Was Here', crime fiction for children (2014).

VOL FOOTNOTE: As I read this story and got drawn into what looked like a great injustice was being done to Fr. Dave, I reached the part about what Dr. Michael Jensen requested. He asked two questions. Please do your best to be restored to your wife. You have six months. That seemed fair to this writer. Then he asked what the grounds were for the divorce. Fr. Dave dodged that bullet saying he wasn't going to judge anyone (and presumably not himself). Now if he had said that his wife had left him, or she had been unfaithful and that the marriage was therefore irretrievably lost, I have no doubt that Jensen would have said something different. But Fr. Dave never said that. He expected to get a pass from Jensen because of his popularity or whatever. The writer made the priest look innocent. To this writer's mind Jensen has every reason to bag him. Yes, the priest does serve at the archbishop's please and yes, he can be dismissed. Priests are held to a higher standard.