I have found myself a bit unsettled in the aftermath of the Church of England's General Synod vote on women bishops. In case you don't follow Anglican news as closely as some, let me bring you up to speed. If you already have followed this debate, you can ignore the next three paragraphs...
The Church of England has ordained women as priests since 1994 (having approved their ordination in 1992). In contrast, the Episcopal Church first ordained women as priests "irregularly" in 1974, regularizing them in 1976. Our first female bishop, the Rt. Rev. Barbara Harris, was ordained in 1989. Since the ordination of women as priests in the Church of England, there have naturally been calls for them to be ordained as bishops as well. In 2005, 2006, and 2007, the General Synod of the Church of England voted to remove legal obstacles to the ordination of women as bishops. Since then, the work has been to find a way to move forward with their ordination while still providing some sort of pastoral response to clergy and laity who don't approve of the ordination of women as bishops. Several proposals have been attempted, but there has yet to be a successful vote enacting one.
The most recent draft measure has been approved by 42 out of 44 diocese in the Church of England. It has the clear support of a majority of the members of the church. However, in the midst of the process, the House of Bishops introduced an amendment that offered some further concessions to conservatives in the church. Due to worries that this amendment would hurt its ability to pass, the General Synod in York postponed decision to a later Synod. That Synod, which met earlier this month, voted the measure down. It passed with an over two-thirds majority in the Houses of Bishops and Clergy, but it failed the required two-thirds majority by six votes in the House of Laity.
The failure of the measure has produced a mammoth of opinion articles and essays. Some have suggested that Parliament should step into this established church with its own solution to the problem. Others are hoping that another way can be found forward for this to be considered soon, rather than having to wait until 2015 to consider the question again. And, of course, there have been a myriad of voices decrying this failure of movement as symptomatic of the larger failures of the Church of England.
Alright, now that we're all on the same page, let me share why I am a bit unsettled. Many of the opinions expressed in the aftermath of the vote have declared that the Church of England needs to "get with the times." They've insisted that society has moved on with gender equality and so the church must as well, so that it is reflective of society. They've suggested that the Church of England is hopeless backward, lost in the dark ages, and that the movement to the ordination of women as bishops is a part of its need to modernize.
And I find all of that tremendously disappointing. I find it disappointing because it is yet another example of Anglican Christianity being handed and opportunity to speak deep and profound theological truth and instead choosing to use the language and ideals of our broader society.
Let me be frank. Women should be ordained as bishops. Absolutely and positively this should happen. However, it should not happen because the church needs to "modernize" or "get with the times" or move on with the rest of society. None of these are sufficient reasons to change such a core question of theology and ecclesiology and the fact that this is all most people seem to muster when arguing for the ordination of women to the episcopate is a tragedy.
Rather, women should be ordained bishops for solid theological reasons. All humans are created in the image of God, gender complementarity is a dead-end that is only ever read into Scripture. Sections of the Bible that talk about a woman and man becoming one flesh are beautiful images of the coming together of two human beings. However, the gender complementarity some see in those texts also assumed, in ancient times, that women were of lesser value than men. To be blunt, women were "receptacles" into which the man would put the whole of human life, which was contained in his seed.
We don't buy any of that as being true. We have indeed moved on from such ancient perspectives upon which was built generations of misogyny and even violence against women.
However, the call to ordain women as bishops involves more than recognizing our modern understandings of biology and psychology. The call to ordain women as bishops comes from the theological ideals that have followed the development of our psychological and biological understanding.
Women should be ordained as bishops because they are every much in the image of God as men are. Women should be ordained as bishops because it is abundantly clear that they have clear charisms to this ministry, clear gifts of the Holy Spirit present in their lives and ministry, gifts that are particularly suited for episcopal ministry. Women should be ordained as bishops because they can serve as an image of the priestly Christ just as much as a man can—indeed, they can sometimes even provide that image more faithfully than men.
It is my deep and profound wish that more people would follow the leads of such leading theologians as Sarah Coakley who has done what every other church leader should be doing—providing cogent and compelling theological reasons for the ordination of women to the episcopate. The sociological reasons, the political reasons, even the social justice reasons all may be important, but on their own they are insufficient.
There are important and profound theological reasons for affirming our sisters in Christ and their calling by God to episcopal ministry. If the Church of England, if Anglicanism as a whole, truly wants to reclaim its voice in the world, it cannot do that by simply mimicking the arguments of the world. Instead, we must declare the bold theological truth that all people are created in the image of God and called by God to ministry. We must declare with conviction, based upon careful study of our Holy Scriptures and well-thought out theology, the call of the Gospel in our modern world.
We must, once again, find our voice.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Lullaby
I remember sitting on my grandmother's lap, curled up, as she sang quietly to me, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away."
There is something powerful, almost primal, in the practice of singing to a child, rocking them back and forth as they somehow find solace and peace in the lilt of a familiar song.
My grandmother singing voice is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. You can feel the love that rests in each and every word. When I was a child, I remember my siblings and I trying to stump her on songs, believing that she seemed to have a song for almost everything.
I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses, and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses...
When I first started attending the Episcopal Church, I absolutely loved the hymns and anthems but found them rather difficult to sing. I was raised on Gospel hymns, a very different style of music than Ralph Vaughan Williams melodies and plainsong. Over these past several years though, I've developed a lot of love for the Anglican musical tradition. Old Gospel hymns still run through my head. Someday, when I have a child, I'll hold that child close and sing Gospel music to her or him. But I'll also sing other music, other songs I've learned.
The day thou gavest Lord is ended, the darkness falls at thy behest. To thee our morning hymns ascended, thy praise shall sanctify our rest...
This summer, our parish has been trying Morning Prayer with Communion one Sunday a month, experimenting with what it's like to pray Morning Prayer as a community. Since this has largely gone out of fashion these days, the difficulty is that we don't know the canticles anymore. We've been working at it though and each month when that first Sunday rolls around, I feel like the singing gets stronger.
Come let us sing to the Lord, let us shout for joy to the rock of our salvation, let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and raise a loud shout to him with psalms...
I went to visit my grandmother a few weeks ago. She's in assisted living now. She's having trouble remembering things and gets confused. I sat there on the small bed with her, my head nuzzled against her shoulder with my younger sister sitting on her other side doing the same. I didn't know what much to say, except over and over again, "I love you grandma, I love you grandma, I love you grandma."
Perhaps one of the reasons music affects us so is because it is such a relational thing. We hear songs sung to us by those we love. We sing them in response to our own children. I know when I sing the Venite (the one that begins, "Come let us sing to the Lord,"), to this day I think of sitting next to Robert Partin in the choir pews at Heavenly Rest in Abilene, TX. To this day it makes me smile.
I think probably the worst thing in the world is watching relationships slip away and change. I want everyone to be around forever. This has been, for me, one of the hardest parts of parish ministry, the realization that, in the end, I cannot force a relationship someone does not want with me. Even harder, as the years at my parish go by, is the knowledge that inevitably, year by year, funerals will become more and more difficult as I grow to love people more and more.
It hurts to feel a relationship slip away, whether through death, the slow fade of a mind, moving, anger, frustration, fear, or just the continuance of life. It hurts something awful.
I remember, when I was a child, sitting attentively on a church pew next to my grandmother at the M-21 Church of Christ. I remember the preacher telling us that heaven was going to be filled with singing, for all eternity we could just sing and sing and sing. I remember smiling at that as I held my grandmother's hand.
And someday, I hope with all my heart, on the other side of eternity, when all the anger and fear and loss of this world has been healed, when we are able to love one another fully for who we truly are—not who we want people to be, I hope that on that day, I'll be able to dip my toe into the glassy sea. And I hope that as I peer into that singing crowd I'll see some faces that have disappeared over time, faces that may even be surprised at seeing an tired fallible guy like me.
And I hope that we'll find each other in that crowd—no matter what happened in the ages in between this day and that. I hope we'll find each other.
And I hope we'll smile.
And I hope we'll sing.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior...
There is something powerful, almost primal, in the practice of singing to a child, rocking them back and forth as they somehow find solace and peace in the lilt of a familiar song.
My grandmother singing voice is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. You can feel the love that rests in each and every word. When I was a child, I remember my siblings and I trying to stump her on songs, believing that she seemed to have a song for almost everything.
I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses, and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses...
When I first started attending the Episcopal Church, I absolutely loved the hymns and anthems but found them rather difficult to sing. I was raised on Gospel hymns, a very different style of music than Ralph Vaughan Williams melodies and plainsong. Over these past several years though, I've developed a lot of love for the Anglican musical tradition. Old Gospel hymns still run through my head. Someday, when I have a child, I'll hold that child close and sing Gospel music to her or him. But I'll also sing other music, other songs I've learned.
The day thou gavest Lord is ended, the darkness falls at thy behest. To thee our morning hymns ascended, thy praise shall sanctify our rest...
This summer, our parish has been trying Morning Prayer with Communion one Sunday a month, experimenting with what it's like to pray Morning Prayer as a community. Since this has largely gone out of fashion these days, the difficulty is that we don't know the canticles anymore. We've been working at it though and each month when that first Sunday rolls around, I feel like the singing gets stronger.
Come let us sing to the Lord, let us shout for joy to the rock of our salvation, let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and raise a loud shout to him with psalms...
I went to visit my grandmother a few weeks ago. She's in assisted living now. She's having trouble remembering things and gets confused. I sat there on the small bed with her, my head nuzzled against her shoulder with my younger sister sitting on her other side doing the same. I didn't know what much to say, except over and over again, "I love you grandma, I love you grandma, I love you grandma."
Perhaps one of the reasons music affects us so is because it is such a relational thing. We hear songs sung to us by those we love. We sing them in response to our own children. I know when I sing the Venite (the one that begins, "Come let us sing to the Lord,"), to this day I think of sitting next to Robert Partin in the choir pews at Heavenly Rest in Abilene, TX. To this day it makes me smile.
I think probably the worst thing in the world is watching relationships slip away and change. I want everyone to be around forever. This has been, for me, one of the hardest parts of parish ministry, the realization that, in the end, I cannot force a relationship someone does not want with me. Even harder, as the years at my parish go by, is the knowledge that inevitably, year by year, funerals will become more and more difficult as I grow to love people more and more.
It hurts to feel a relationship slip away, whether through death, the slow fade of a mind, moving, anger, frustration, fear, or just the continuance of life. It hurts something awful.
I remember, when I was a child, sitting attentively on a church pew next to my grandmother at the M-21 Church of Christ. I remember the preacher telling us that heaven was going to be filled with singing, for all eternity we could just sing and sing and sing. I remember smiling at that as I held my grandmother's hand.
And someday, I hope with all my heart, on the other side of eternity, when all the anger and fear and loss of this world has been healed, when we are able to love one another fully for who we truly are—not who we want people to be, I hope that on that day, I'll be able to dip my toe into the glassy sea. And I hope that as I peer into that singing crowd I'll see some faces that have disappeared over time, faces that may even be surprised at seeing an tired fallible guy like me.
And I hope that we'll find each other in that crowd—no matter what happened in the ages in between this day and that. I hope we'll find each other.
And I hope we'll smile.
And I hope we'll sing.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior...
D.Min, Year Two: Percy Dearmer and the Teaching of Addai
Well, one more year of my Doctor of Ministry program is behind me. Last night I turned in my last paper for "Types of Anglican Theology." This puts me halfway through my coursework. I'm rather pleased with both final papers I wrote for this summer and hope they're worthwhile. The Dearmer paper, in particular, represents the beginning of my research on what will likely be my Doctor of Ministry project: a critical analysis of Percy Dearmer's work followed by a complete re-write of The Parson's Handbook for twenty-first century, post-Liturgical Movement, ecumenical, Anglican Christianity.
Sounds like fun, eh?
Aware that some strange souls out there might be interested in one or the other of these papers, I'm posting them both here for download.
Types of Anglican Theology, class taught by the Rev. Dr. Mark Chapman, Vice-Principal of Ripon College, Cuddesdon, Oxford (and man with an excellent English professor beard, exactly what one might expect)
Prayer Book Catholic: The Work of Percy Dearmer in Context and Contemporary Liturgical Renewal
From the introduction...
An Introduction to Ancient Eastern Christianity, class taught by Dr. Charles M. Stang, Associate Professor of Early Christian Thought at Harvard Divinity School in Harvard University (and prof that will absolutely rock J. Crew fancy shorts and shirts while teaching—otherwise known as the opposite of what one might expect)
The "Teaching of Addai" and a Fourth-Century Eastern Theology of Ministry
From the introduction...
Sounds like fun, eh?
Aware that some strange souls out there might be interested in one or the other of these papers, I'm posting them both here for download.
Types of Anglican Theology, class taught by the Rev. Dr. Mark Chapman, Vice-Principal of Ripon College, Cuddesdon, Oxford (and man with an excellent English professor beard, exactly what one might expect)
Prayer Book Catholic: The Work of Percy Dearmer in Context and Contemporary Liturgical Renewal
From the introduction...
Of all the figures of late nineteenth and early twentieth-century Anglicanism, perhaps the most ignored and misunderstood is Percy Dearmer. Over the course of several decades, he entered a time of confusion and upheaval and argued for a particular approach to Anglican worship founded upon sound principles. His influence is far greater than has often been acknowledged. His ideals shaped the way generations of clergy and lay people think about worship.
Furthermore, Dearmer’s approach to the church is one that still bears insights for today’s practice of Anglican Christianity. At times, when reading him describe the state of the church in his day one hears surprisingly similar echoes to struggles of our own times. A careful exploration of Dearmer’s context and approach should yield important insights for contemporary clergy and lay people who seek today to worship God in the beauty of holiness.
An Introduction to Ancient Eastern Christianity, class taught by Dr. Charles M. Stang, Associate Professor of Early Christian Thought at Harvard Divinity School in Harvard University (and prof that will absolutely rock J. Crew fancy shorts and shirts while teaching—otherwise known as the opposite of what one might expect)
The "Teaching of Addai" and a Fourth-Century Eastern Theology of Ministry
From the introduction...
Everyone loves a good apocryphal miracle story. Well, perhaps not everyone. But oftentimes apocryphal and pseudepigraphical literature from the first few centuries of the church is explored primarily for its fantastic accounts of miracles and legends relating to the supernatural power of Christ or the early apostles.
A case in point is the Teaching of Addai. The two most fantastic aspects of this story are the healing of King Abgar by Addai (as a result of the former’s written request to Christ himself) and a legend relating the discovery of the true cross by someone named Protonike. Most who study this text do so for the Abgar legend. Those who aren’t interested in that section explore this text for the Protonike legend.
I would argue that neither of these stories are central to the Teaching of Addai. Rather, this text is precisely what its title suggests, an account of the teaching of the apostle Addai. More specifically, it is an account of the shape and order of Christian ministry, as brought to Edessa by Addai and continued by Addai’s disciples. The author of the final version of the text we have today took a pre-existing Edessene legend in the Abgar narrative, combined it with a rewritten story of the discovery of the true cross, and then wove around them a theology of ministry that seeks to find its grounding in apostolic authority, catholicity, and a warm relationship with the state and empire. An exploration of the Teaching of Addai will display a robust theology of ministry that seeks to refute the competing visions of the day and to legitimate and secure Edessene Christianity (as described by the author) as the authentic expression of Christianity.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Thoughts on the Episcopal Church, in light of last Sunday's reading
This past Sunday, as I listened to our parish's excellent readers proclaim the first lesson from Second Samuel 7:1-14a, my mind started wandering around the words. My sermon for the day was on that text, which always changes how I hear it when it is proclaimed.
As I listened, I was struck by God's words to David and how they seemed to relate to the Episcopal Church in this moment, particularly the work of the Acts 8 Moment. I began wondering what might happen if the story was retold for today... this is what I came up with.
There was a time, not too long ago, when the Episcopal Church was settled in her country and culture. She was the American church of privilege and prestige—or at least thought herself so. "Do you know how many Episcopalians have been president?" her members would say, as they sipped their coffee after services, confident that any visitor surely would want to join such an established church—albeit in a technically disestablished context.
The Episcopal Church believed she had been given rest from her enemies all around her, that she would be the vanguard of ecumenism and the dawning of a new age of Christianity. Indeed, we had much to hope for in those days, much we believed was secure and confident and given. Much that was ours.
We said to the prophet, "See, we are now living in a rich and strong church, but the word of God seems to be on the streets, among the poor and those arguing for causes like racial justice and gender equality. Come, let us build a civilized home for the word of God, let us give to social justice the mantle of our church."
The prophet said to the church, "Go, do all that you have in mind; for the Lord is with you."
The word of the Lord did not come to the prophet that night. The word of the Lord did not warn of the dangers inherent in this desire to build, to construct. The word of the Lord may have come to the prophet, but the prophet either did not hear or was not able to proclaim to the church that she had strangely enough begun to think she was the architect of her rest, of her success, of her peace.
But at a church gathering several decades later, with some aspects of the church crumbling, others crying for renewal, others vying for power, in the midst of this the voice of the Lord came to the prophet again.
This is what the prophet heard.
"Oh Episcopal Church, are you the one to build me a house to live in? Are you to restructure this building into something strong and secure, something that revisions the powers and assumptions of the twentieth-century in a twenty-first century context? Are you the one to build this.
"I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day. For generations and millenia I have been moving about in a tent and tabernacle, in a movement and a whisper, in a reformation and a retreat. Whenever I have moved about among all the people of God, did I speak a word with any of the leaders whom I commanded to shepherd by people, saying, 'Why have you not built me a strong church, one in which I can dwell and be proud?'
"Now, therefore, listen to me my servants: I am the Lord God, the Lord of the Angel Armies, I took you from a tradition began anew over issues of divorce and sex and politics. I took you from sordid fights and breathed my life-giving Spirit into you, that you might rediscover what it means to be my children.
"Lo, these almost five-hundred years I have led you, I have been with you wherever you went. You do not even realize the many times my hand stayed the work of your enemies before you. I made your name great, that this tradition might grow and become prosperous, that it might include millions of people and stand among my most ancient of churches.
"Listen to me, Episcopal Church. Let me wrap my arms around you and and cool your fevered brow. You are not the ones to fix this. You have lost your place but you have not lost me. I swear by my own name that I will appoint a place for my people, I will dig into the rich soil of the dirt of this world and plant you there, so that my people might live in their own place, so that they will not be disturbed anymore and so that evildoers shall afflict them no more.
"Oh Episcopal Church, you are so deeply beloved, but it is because I have made you from myself. Your structures are beautiful, your paraments declare my glory, your music sings the praise of my Triune Glory, a glory into which the angels long to look.
"You are so deeply beloved as a part of my people—but remember that you are not the entirety of my people. Yet even now, the Lord declares to you, that I am at work making you into a house. I am cutting your rough edges and smoothing your corners that you might be a part of a holy temple, a new house, into which all my people will stream and find rest. Your rest may disappear to build this house—but the rest you will create for my people will be better.
"And some day, when your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your ancestors, when your conventions disband and the leaders of today sleep in the dust, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body. They will suffer pain as you have, but they will also be saved by it. Through them I will continue to establish my reign, my dominion. And your offspring shall continue the work you have done, building a house for my name, teaching all the children of the earth forever that I am your father and your mother, your source, your beginning, your end. And that you—even you, O Little Faith—you are indeed my children."
O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquillity the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. ~ BCP 280
As I listened, I was struck by God's words to David and how they seemed to relate to the Episcopal Church in this moment, particularly the work of the Acts 8 Moment. I began wondering what might happen if the story was retold for today... this is what I came up with.
There was a time, not too long ago, when the Episcopal Church was settled in her country and culture. She was the American church of privilege and prestige—or at least thought herself so. "Do you know how many Episcopalians have been president?" her members would say, as they sipped their coffee after services, confident that any visitor surely would want to join such an established church—albeit in a technically disestablished context.
The Episcopal Church believed she had been given rest from her enemies all around her, that she would be the vanguard of ecumenism and the dawning of a new age of Christianity. Indeed, we had much to hope for in those days, much we believed was secure and confident and given. Much that was ours.
We said to the prophet, "See, we are now living in a rich and strong church, but the word of God seems to be on the streets, among the poor and those arguing for causes like racial justice and gender equality. Come, let us build a civilized home for the word of God, let us give to social justice the mantle of our church."
The prophet said to the church, "Go, do all that you have in mind; for the Lord is with you."
The word of the Lord did not come to the prophet that night. The word of the Lord did not warn of the dangers inherent in this desire to build, to construct. The word of the Lord may have come to the prophet, but the prophet either did not hear or was not able to proclaim to the church that she had strangely enough begun to think she was the architect of her rest, of her success, of her peace.
But at a church gathering several decades later, with some aspects of the church crumbling, others crying for renewal, others vying for power, in the midst of this the voice of the Lord came to the prophet again.
This is what the prophet heard.
"Oh Episcopal Church, are you the one to build me a house to live in? Are you to restructure this building into something strong and secure, something that revisions the powers and assumptions of the twentieth-century in a twenty-first century context? Are you the one to build this.
"I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day. For generations and millenia I have been moving about in a tent and tabernacle, in a movement and a whisper, in a reformation and a retreat. Whenever I have moved about among all the people of God, did I speak a word with any of the leaders whom I commanded to shepherd by people, saying, 'Why have you not built me a strong church, one in which I can dwell and be proud?'
"Now, therefore, listen to me my servants: I am the Lord God, the Lord of the Angel Armies, I took you from a tradition began anew over issues of divorce and sex and politics. I took you from sordid fights and breathed my life-giving Spirit into you, that you might rediscover what it means to be my children.
"Lo, these almost five-hundred years I have led you, I have been with you wherever you went. You do not even realize the many times my hand stayed the work of your enemies before you. I made your name great, that this tradition might grow and become prosperous, that it might include millions of people and stand among my most ancient of churches.
"Listen to me, Episcopal Church. Let me wrap my arms around you and and cool your fevered brow. You are not the ones to fix this. You have lost your place but you have not lost me. I swear by my own name that I will appoint a place for my people, I will dig into the rich soil of the dirt of this world and plant you there, so that my people might live in their own place, so that they will not be disturbed anymore and so that evildoers shall afflict them no more.
"Oh Episcopal Church, you are so deeply beloved, but it is because I have made you from myself. Your structures are beautiful, your paraments declare my glory, your music sings the praise of my Triune Glory, a glory into which the angels long to look.
"You are so deeply beloved as a part of my people—but remember that you are not the entirety of my people. Yet even now, the Lord declares to you, that I am at work making you into a house. I am cutting your rough edges and smoothing your corners that you might be a part of a holy temple, a new house, into which all my people will stream and find rest. Your rest may disappear to build this house—but the rest you will create for my people will be better.
"And some day, when your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your ancestors, when your conventions disband and the leaders of today sleep in the dust, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body. They will suffer pain as you have, but they will also be saved by it. Through them I will continue to establish my reign, my dominion. And your offspring shall continue the work you have done, building a house for my name, teaching all the children of the earth forever that I am your father and your mother, your source, your beginning, your end. And that you—even you, O Little Faith—you are indeed my children."
O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquillity the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. ~ BCP 280
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
One Millennial Perspective on Restructuring
One of the tricky things, I've discovered, in being a younger priest is the assumptions that go along with it. It never ceases to amaze me how, in so many aspects of the life of the church, people assume all sorts of things that "my generation" wants when it comes to Christianity—things that often have little to do with my own interests and desires or with those of my friends.
A few days ago, one of my friends on Facebook posted an observation about the ongoing General Convention budget debacle. In case you haven't been watching this closely, the budget submitted by Executive Council is largely a train wreck. (For a particularly good take on this, I commend anything written by Tom Ferguson—otherwise known by his blog "Crusty Old Dean"—particularly this post.)
Then, just days before General Convention begins, our Presiding Bishop released her own budget. (Once again, Tom's take on this is also pretty good.) I agree with Tom that Bishop Katharine's budget is light-years better than the Executive Council budget. It restores funding to important areas and it creates grant work to fund church-planting and other mission imperatives. Indeed, the whole budget is organized around the Anglican five marks of mission. It still cuts the staff at the church-wide office, but it does so in consultation with the current staff and in a much more thoughtful approach than how those cuts have happened in recent years.
Most importantly, to me, it seems to get rid of the rather obvious (and embarrassing) contest between the PB and the President of the House of Deputies. The Executive Council budget had increased staffing for both offices. Bishop Katharine's office still gives one more staff person to the President of the House of Deputies.
Of course, there has been some complaints raised about the process that led to Bishop Katharine submitting her own budget. This returns me to where I started—the observation my friend posted on Facebook. She said,
I get the sense that much of the restructuring debate is happening within the terms of the Boomers currently leading this church. When I hear them talk about cutting a bloated bureaucracy and expressing concern about the Presiding Bishop's exercise of her office, I think it's coming from a very distinct perspective. What I hear in that, to be honest, are the vestiges of the anti-institutional, down with the man, question the powers, Boomer mentality.
And it makes absolutely no sense to me.
I know I don't speak for all Millennials, for every person in the church who is from my generation. But I want to try here to speak authentically for myself at least.
If our church is truly going to move into the twenty-first century, we will have to move the conversation beyond the late twentieth century concerns with powers and institutions. I have no problem with institutions, with authority, and with people exercising the authority they have been given.
Our canons do set up a system of shared governance, but one in which orders to play a particular role. The Presiding Bishop and the President of the House of Deputies are not co-primates. The Presiding Bishop's role in the canons is significantly larger than that of the President of the House of Deputies—and I'm OK with that.
A significant part of the Executive Council's budget was the cutting of program based upon something they called the "subsidiarity principle." That is, basically, we'll cut something the church-wide office at 815 used to do and trust that it happens better locally and in dioceses. To me, this principle comes from the Boomer anti-institutional bias.
There are things that happen better at the national level. The subsidiarity principle will result, I fear, in gross inequity between richer dioceses and poorer dioceses. If youth ministry or ordination exams are done solely at the diocesan level they are going to vary dramatically—and I don't think they will vary fairly.
To me, if there is a bloated bureaucracy in the church right now it is General Convention and its attendant CCABs. That is a place I think we can slim and shrink so as to be better poised for mission and ministry. I affirm the idea behind resolution B015, seeking to create a unicameral General Convention (instead of our bicameral model). I do think it should be amended so that a vote by orders would be three-fold (laity, clergy, and bishops) rather than two-fold (laity/clergy together and bishops together)—that way the laity always have their own voice and nothing can be passed without their consent.
To me, our bishops sitting in one house with their diocesan deputation, with one or two lay people, one or two clergy (instead of the current four and four deputation) makes much more sense. And, it emphasizes the shared nature of ministry much more than the competition often engendered by our current bicameral model.
I would rather cut General Convention, get rid of the multiplicity of CCABs, and then have a well-funded and staffed church-wide office, one that can create resources and programs that we can draw on from across the church, one that can ensure there is a level of commonality regardless of diocesan resources. I am comfortable with the Presiding Bishop leading our church as she has been—and leading our church on a strong national level. I simply do not buy the questioning of authority and institution that seems rampant among my older colleagues.
General Convention has begun meeting in Indianapolis. Their website is up and running and has several real-time resources. I hope that as they begin considering restructuring, as they engage in questions surrounding our national finances and budget and program, I hope that they will not simply follow what often feels to me like the knee-jerk reactions of one particular demographic voice within our church—boomer or millennial or other.
Instead, I hope that the various generations of our church will speak up and will listen to each other. The church of the twenty-first century is coming together, it's the church in which I will exercise my own priestly ministry for the rest of my life. It needs to be structured for mission and ministry—not dismantled by any one generation's biases.
A few days ago, one of my friends on Facebook posted an observation about the ongoing General Convention budget debacle. In case you haven't been watching this closely, the budget submitted by Executive Council is largely a train wreck. (For a particularly good take on this, I commend anything written by Tom Ferguson—otherwise known by his blog "Crusty Old Dean"—particularly this post.)
Then, just days before General Convention begins, our Presiding Bishop released her own budget. (Once again, Tom's take on this is also pretty good.) I agree with Tom that Bishop Katharine's budget is light-years better than the Executive Council budget. It restores funding to important areas and it creates grant work to fund church-planting and other mission imperatives. Indeed, the whole budget is organized around the Anglican five marks of mission. It still cuts the staff at the church-wide office, but it does so in consultation with the current staff and in a much more thoughtful approach than how those cuts have happened in recent years.
Most importantly, to me, it seems to get rid of the rather obvious (and embarrassing) contest between the PB and the President of the House of Deputies. The Executive Council budget had increased staffing for both offices. Bishop Katharine's office still gives one more staff person to the President of the House of Deputies.
Of course, there has been some complaints raised about the process that led to Bishop Katharine submitting her own budget. This returns me to where I started—the observation my friend posted on Facebook. She said,
It seems to me that people over 40 are concerned about the process that led to the submission of this budget and that people under 40 are concerned with the actual merits of the budget itself.This rings true for me. And I think it raises a larger point about structure and restructuring in the Episcopal Church today.
I get the sense that much of the restructuring debate is happening within the terms of the Boomers currently leading this church. When I hear them talk about cutting a bloated bureaucracy and expressing concern about the Presiding Bishop's exercise of her office, I think it's coming from a very distinct perspective. What I hear in that, to be honest, are the vestiges of the anti-institutional, down with the man, question the powers, Boomer mentality.
And it makes absolutely no sense to me.
I know I don't speak for all Millennials, for every person in the church who is from my generation. But I want to try here to speak authentically for myself at least.
If our church is truly going to move into the twenty-first century, we will have to move the conversation beyond the late twentieth century concerns with powers and institutions. I have no problem with institutions, with authority, and with people exercising the authority they have been given.
Our canons do set up a system of shared governance, but one in which orders to play a particular role. The Presiding Bishop and the President of the House of Deputies are not co-primates. The Presiding Bishop's role in the canons is significantly larger than that of the President of the House of Deputies—and I'm OK with that.
A significant part of the Executive Council's budget was the cutting of program based upon something they called the "subsidiarity principle." That is, basically, we'll cut something the church-wide office at 815 used to do and trust that it happens better locally and in dioceses. To me, this principle comes from the Boomer anti-institutional bias.
There are things that happen better at the national level. The subsidiarity principle will result, I fear, in gross inequity between richer dioceses and poorer dioceses. If youth ministry or ordination exams are done solely at the diocesan level they are going to vary dramatically—and I don't think they will vary fairly.
To me, if there is a bloated bureaucracy in the church right now it is General Convention and its attendant CCABs. That is a place I think we can slim and shrink so as to be better poised for mission and ministry. I affirm the idea behind resolution B015, seeking to create a unicameral General Convention (instead of our bicameral model). I do think it should be amended so that a vote by orders would be three-fold (laity, clergy, and bishops) rather than two-fold (laity/clergy together and bishops together)—that way the laity always have their own voice and nothing can be passed without their consent.
To me, our bishops sitting in one house with their diocesan deputation, with one or two lay people, one or two clergy (instead of the current four and four deputation) makes much more sense. And, it emphasizes the shared nature of ministry much more than the competition often engendered by our current bicameral model.
I would rather cut General Convention, get rid of the multiplicity of CCABs, and then have a well-funded and staffed church-wide office, one that can create resources and programs that we can draw on from across the church, one that can ensure there is a level of commonality regardless of diocesan resources. I am comfortable with the Presiding Bishop leading our church as she has been—and leading our church on a strong national level. I simply do not buy the questioning of authority and institution that seems rampant among my older colleagues.
General Convention has begun meeting in Indianapolis. Their website is up and running and has several real-time resources. I hope that as they begin considering restructuring, as they engage in questions surrounding our national finances and budget and program, I hope that they will not simply follow what often feels to me like the knee-jerk reactions of one particular demographic voice within our church—boomer or millennial or other.
Instead, I hope that the various generations of our church will speak up and will listen to each other. The church of the twenty-first century is coming together, it's the church in which I will exercise my own priestly ministry for the rest of my life. It needs to be structured for mission and ministry—not dismantled by any one generation's biases.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Scripture, sexuality and the Church’s call to faithfulness and reform
My June 24, 2013, column for the Grand Haven Tribune, Scripture, sexuality, and the Church's Call to Faithfulness and Reform, also reprinted below:
I’m grateful to my colleague, the Rev. Ray Paget, for sharing his own approach to the difficult exegetical and Scriptural questions surrounding our understanding of sexuality (“God’s sure Word in an unsure world,” Grand Haven Tribune, May 30). We are blessed to live in a community where cordial and respectful conversation on this sensitive question can be engaged charitably. Since a portion of the Rev. Paget’s column was directed to me, I would like to respond briefly.
It is indeed true that the Rev. Paget and I come from traditions that have historically viewed Scripture differently—but we both would affirm its primacy. At my ordination vows as a priest, I declared that I believed the Old and New Testaments to be the word of God and to contain all things necessary to salvation. At the same time, in our Anglican understanding, we recognize that Scripture is always viewed through an interpretive lens, including the tradition of the Church and our own God-given reason.
I would strongly disagree with the Rev. Paget about the simplicity of the exegetical issues involved. Scholars of no less a stature than Roman Catholic theologian Luke Timothy Johnson and the theologically conservative scholar Richard Hays have explored these difficulties carefully and fairly. I commend their work to anyone interested.
The Rev. Paget cites Leviticus 18:22 as direct evidence that homosexuality is a “detestable sin.” The same Hebrew word used there is also used in Leviticus 20:25 to describe eating unclean animals. I wonder if the Rev. Paget would thus view the eating of shrimp or pork to be a similar detestable sin based upon the clear evidence of Scripture.
He also cites Romans 1:26-26 as a text without nuance. I’d wonder if he would nuance Paul’s admonition in Ephesians 6:5 that slaves should practice obedience, a text used for centuries to support the practice of slavery in our own country. Interestingly enough, Paul is talking about people doing what is not natural. We now know that homosexuality is a natural state for a percentage of the population (both among humans and even among some animals). It is not chosen. Paul is opposed to people rejecting their natural sexual state in the interest of experimentation. If someone is naturally, through no choice of their own, attracted to people of the same-gender, Romans 1 doesn’t seem to apply.
Surely he’d say something about how we are under grace and so the laws of Leviticus no longer apply. Perhaps he’d say that the slavery Paul is talking about in Ephesians is different then slavery as it was practiced in the early years of America. That would sound a bit like a “nuanced” understanding of the Biblical text, however. It’s certainly different than the “plain reading.”
Could it be, perhaps, that what is often called “homosexuality” in Scripture is very different than the faithful, monogamous, same-sex relationships that we have seen in or Church? Leviticus is talking about temple prostitution, Paul’s arguments are based upon an understanding of the sex act where a man is always dominant and where the embryo is included in the seed. He speaks strongly against Greco-Roman practices of pederasty and oppression. Can we condemn those with the voice of Scripture and also acknowledge that they are entirely different than two people committing themselves to one another through self-giving love?
One can find all kinds of views in Scripture and one can find throughout Christian history that our understanding of authorial intent, context, history, and linguistic matters has led to the development and change of views as the Spirit has guided the church deeper into all truth, just as Jesus promised would happen in John 16. We now disagree with history and say slavery is wrong. Few Christians today would condemn usury (the lending of money at interest) as intrinsically evil, even though that was the clear reading of text and tradition for thousands of years.
Each generation is called to carefully study the texts of Scripture and the traditions of the church and to ensure that we are truly being faithful to the Gospel message. As the member of a tradition that springs from the Reformation, I trust the Rev. Paget knows the importance of being willing to challenge old assumptions in service to the Gospel of God in Christ. I pray that through dialogue and discussion such as this, all Christians might come to a deeper understanding of the will of God, based upon a careful and thoughtful reading of Scripture, for the world today.
I’m grateful to my colleague, the Rev. Ray Paget, for sharing his own approach to the difficult exegetical and Scriptural questions surrounding our understanding of sexuality (“God’s sure Word in an unsure world,” Grand Haven Tribune, May 30). We are blessed to live in a community where cordial and respectful conversation on this sensitive question can be engaged charitably. Since a portion of the Rev. Paget’s column was directed to me, I would like to respond briefly.
It is indeed true that the Rev. Paget and I come from traditions that have historically viewed Scripture differently—but we both would affirm its primacy. At my ordination vows as a priest, I declared that I believed the Old and New Testaments to be the word of God and to contain all things necessary to salvation. At the same time, in our Anglican understanding, we recognize that Scripture is always viewed through an interpretive lens, including the tradition of the Church and our own God-given reason.
I would strongly disagree with the Rev. Paget about the simplicity of the exegetical issues involved. Scholars of no less a stature than Roman Catholic theologian Luke Timothy Johnson and the theologically conservative scholar Richard Hays have explored these difficulties carefully and fairly. I commend their work to anyone interested.
The Rev. Paget cites Leviticus 18:22 as direct evidence that homosexuality is a “detestable sin.” The same Hebrew word used there is also used in Leviticus 20:25 to describe eating unclean animals. I wonder if the Rev. Paget would thus view the eating of shrimp or pork to be a similar detestable sin based upon the clear evidence of Scripture.
He also cites Romans 1:26-26 as a text without nuance. I’d wonder if he would nuance Paul’s admonition in Ephesians 6:5 that slaves should practice obedience, a text used for centuries to support the practice of slavery in our own country. Interestingly enough, Paul is talking about people doing what is not natural. We now know that homosexuality is a natural state for a percentage of the population (both among humans and even among some animals). It is not chosen. Paul is opposed to people rejecting their natural sexual state in the interest of experimentation. If someone is naturally, through no choice of their own, attracted to people of the same-gender, Romans 1 doesn’t seem to apply.
Surely he’d say something about how we are under grace and so the laws of Leviticus no longer apply. Perhaps he’d say that the slavery Paul is talking about in Ephesians is different then slavery as it was practiced in the early years of America. That would sound a bit like a “nuanced” understanding of the Biblical text, however. It’s certainly different than the “plain reading.”
Could it be, perhaps, that what is often called “homosexuality” in Scripture is very different than the faithful, monogamous, same-sex relationships that we have seen in or Church? Leviticus is talking about temple prostitution, Paul’s arguments are based upon an understanding of the sex act where a man is always dominant and where the embryo is included in the seed. He speaks strongly against Greco-Roman practices of pederasty and oppression. Can we condemn those with the voice of Scripture and also acknowledge that they are entirely different than two people committing themselves to one another through self-giving love?
One can find all kinds of views in Scripture and one can find throughout Christian history that our understanding of authorial intent, context, history, and linguistic matters has led to the development and change of views as the Spirit has guided the church deeper into all truth, just as Jesus promised would happen in John 16. We now disagree with history and say slavery is wrong. Few Christians today would condemn usury (the lending of money at interest) as intrinsically evil, even though that was the clear reading of text and tradition for thousands of years.
Each generation is called to carefully study the texts of Scripture and the traditions of the church and to ensure that we are truly being faithful to the Gospel message. As the member of a tradition that springs from the Reformation, I trust the Rev. Paget knows the importance of being willing to challenge old assumptions in service to the Gospel of God in Christ. I pray that through dialogue and discussion such as this, all Christians might come to a deeper understanding of the will of God, based upon a careful and thoughtful reading of Scripture, for the world today.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Contraception debate not what it seems
My June 3, 2012, column for the Grand Haven Tribune, Contraception debate not what it seems,
We live in a country for which one of the defining values is the freedom of religion. It is enshrined in our national ethos and also in the First Amendment to our Constitution, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” However, precisely what this value implies has recently become a matter of no small debate.
Many leaders in the Catholic Church have been fighting the Obama administration for several months now over one particular part of health care legislation—the requirement that insurers cover contraceptive care. They see this requirement as an attack on their freedom to practice their religion and they are using this perceived attack to launch a significant campaign in the name of religious freedom. They are doing this despite the fact that houses of worship are already exempt from this requirement and despite the fact that insurers of other religious institutions are required to provide contraceptive coverage at no charge to religious institutions that might object.
Now, I have much love and affection for my Catholic brothers and sisters. I count several Catholic priests among my friends and I serve the Episcopal Church as an appointed representative in ecumenical dialogue on the national level with representatives from the United States’ Conference of Catholic Bishops. That said, I do not believe that the voice we are currently hearing from some leaders in the Catholic Church is representative of the best of Catholicism as it exists in America today. Instead, as a Christian priest in another denomination, I feel compelled to speak out regarding these claims of religious freedom being violated.
If the health-care legislation required that people use contraceptive coverage, then their anger would be legitimate. However, it does not. It simply requires insurance companies and providers to cover the cost of a procedure that is a recognized part of medical care by twenty-first century America. Many leaders of the Catholic Church (though not all) agree with that Church’s official policy that the use of contraception is morally wrong, but this legislation does not compel its use. As the debate has progressed I have become increasingly concerned. After all, for our government to allow any religious institution to force coverage or non-coverage of a medical procedure is to enter dangerous ground.
As many have noted, this campaign entirely ignores the fact that many women choose contraception for reasons that have little to do with procreation and everything to do with valid medical problems. It’s unconscionable that this distinction is not made alongside of the fact that there is not a similar campaign ensuring the drugs like Viagra are not covered—as though the majority use of Viagra was for the purposes of conception.
Instead, the goal of this campaign is to use money to coerce individuals into one group’s view of ethical behavior. Whether or not one believes the use of contraception is an appropriate decision for a Christian to make, the decision of an individual should be based upon their own free exercise of religion, not upon enforced economic hardships by denial of coverage. Trying to find ways so that employees of Catholic institutions cannot use health-care to provide for contraception is the opposite of free-exercise of religion. It is about trying to keep something as expensive as possible so that people make the decision that the leaders think they should make.
The first amendment protects the free exercise of religion for the individual. It does not protect institutions that seek to use that clause to abridge the rights and liberties of its members. It certainly does not mean that the government should support that task. I make this point because of the lessons my own Anglican tradition has learned from history. Though our church has long supported the right of people to use contraception, we have in the past been more than willing to use the power of the State to enforce our own particular views. Indeed, the first pilgrims came here because my own spiritual forebears in the Church of England used law to enforce their religious beliefs. Anglicanism as it has grown up in America and as it exists in the Episcopal Church today has since then always been wary of government enforcement of religious practice.
The position of these leaders will only ensure that the rich in their Church continue to ignore Church teaching on the matter (as they have for decades) while the poor and the middle-class will be further coerced into doing what the hierarchy believes they should do or pay a financial price. If the Catholic Church wants people to refrain from using contraception, then teach and form believers who agree with Church teaching. This is the harder road, but it is the road with integrity; it is the road wherein people practice their religion with freedom and sincerity.Read more at the Tribune's website online here.
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