"Above all, the leader of the community must not show too great a concern for the fleeting and temporal things of this world, neglecting or treating lightly the welfare of those entrusted to him. Rather, he should keep in mind that he has undertaken the care of souls for whom he must give an account." ~ Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 2
Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.
This past week, I was in Toledo, Ohio, being trained in mediation skills by the Lombard Mennonite Peace Center. As I got ready for each day, I listened to CNN in my room. It wasn’t a terribly intentional decision (though maybe listening to a 24-hour news channel is good motivation to want to learn more about mediation!).
One morning, I watched an interview with the Republican presidential candidate, Donald Trump. Trump was complaining that the interviewer, Chris Cuomo, was mischaracterizing his speech by only asking about his remarks about Clinton and not dealing with the many other substantive points he made. He also argued that Cuomo was being disrespectful (or poorly mannered, perhaps) by not first congratulating him on having become the Republican Party presumptive nominee.
At first, I was tempted to block it out. Trump has consistently played the victim card with the news media, often quite skillfully and in a way that increases his support.
But the more I thought about it, the more unsettled I became — though I could not put my finger on it.
The next day, Trump was at the top of the news again, this time for a report that, 25 years ago, he had a habit of pretending to be a publicist when calling news agencies. Trump denied the allegations, but also pointed out how going back to something like this 25 years ago seemed pretty ridiculous and low.
Now I would like to write five words I thought I would never write in print: I agree with Donald Trump.
Let me be clear, I have significant and substantive policy disagreements with the presumptive Republican Party nominee. I have these disagreements as someone who was literally a card-carrying Republican only a decade ago and who, since then, would consider myself an independent with both Democratic and Republican leanings on different issues.
And I do think Trump has played the victim card — something many candidates have done over recent years whenever they have received negative press.
All that said, I agree with Trump that the way the media is engaging with his campaign is ridiculous and wrong-headed. I don’t care if he pretended to be a publicist 25 years ago. Honestly, I do not. Likewise, though I find his remarks about Clinton often off-putting, they are not at the heart of my disagreement with many of his positions.
This campaign has been the worst example of how a 24-hour news cycle can focus on the latest and most arcane tidbit of information, gossip or sound bite and then analyze it all to death — all the while declining to address the actual substance of the positions of the various candidates.
I think candidates being mean or condescending or offensive is unfortunate. It is not reflective of the posture I would hope a presidential candidate would have. But what the media needs to focus on are the actual positions candidates have. Trump spoke for several hours and outlined several general policy positions — that is what CNN should report on. That is what our country needs to hear.
These next several months of presidential election politics will, I believe, be some of the strongest, fiercest and most contested we have seen for a while. And it is tempting for those on all sides of the current political spectrum to resort to ad hominem attacks or silly rumor-mongering that has nothing to do with the substance of the actual campaigns.
Whether you love or hate Donald Trump (or Bernie Sanders or Hillary Clinton), I urge you as my fellow citizens to resist the media’s attempt to reduce each one to an easily identified caricature. Do your homework. Listen to what each candidate actually says. Make use of the many non-partisan websites out there that list the positions of candidates. One of the best tools to get started is “I Side With” — a quiz that you can do either at a simple level or at a very detailed level to find out which candidates actually share your values and vision for our country.
This is a much more responsible approach than voting for who is nice or mean, who you’d like to have a beer with, or who seems more presidential when she or he talks.
It’s good practice, particularly for us Christians. Just like everyone else, we tend to reduce people to caricatures that can be dismissed. But as those who believe the image of God rests in every person — no matter how distorted by sin — we cannot discard people. We cannot vilify them.
We may be called to disagree with someone, when we consider the core tenets of our faith. But let our disagreement be substantive and only chosen after a truly intentional desire to listen to what the candidate actually believes — not just the media’s picture of the candidate.
Today's column in the Grand Haven Tribune, reprinted below.
I was grateful to see the Rev. Justin Smith’s carefully thought-out response to my previous columns on homosexuality and same-sex relations. I would like, however, like to respond to some of the points he raised.
Most importantly, his essay raises the key distinction that exists among Christians today: Is every prohibition in the Bible (or even in the New Testament) true for all times and all places? Or, were some written for a culturally specific time and in culturally limited ways?
It is clear that the Rev. Smith is comfortable disregarding the dietary restrictions in the Levitical and Deuteronomic code, given Jesus statements in Mark 7. However, my guess would be that this is not the only part of the law he sets aside — unless he also trims the sides of his beard (Lev. 19:27) and believes that wearing a shirt that is a blend of fabrics is wrong (Lev 19:19).
He might say these are ritual, not sexual, questions; but then I would wonder if he also believes the portion of the law in Leviticus 19:20–22 where there is a lesser punishment for a man who has sex with a slave than with a free woman, also should still be applicable today. Surely this represents a cultural view of sexuality we would reject today as incompatible with the Gospel. Surely slave and free are equally valued by Christians.
If Christianity is going to prohibit something, if it is going to tell an entire class of people that their relationships are not welcome in the church, it must rest on stronger evidence than what has been provided thus far. Unjustly maintaining portions of the Old Testament ritual law while neglecting others is disingenuous.
All that remains is Romans 1 and I Corinthians 6, both cited by the Rev. Smith. The entire campaign of anti-gay prejudice in the church hangs on just these two passages. The key question is what we will do with them. Do Paul’s prohibitions in these texts apply to all times, places, and circumstances? Is he addressing all possible forms of same-sex activity or only specific forms that were known to him?
Paul had no conception — as we do today — that sexual orientation is not a choice people make. Paul knew of the activity, but always understood it as chosen. The prohibitions of Romans 1 and 1 Corinthians 6 come from a specific cultural and scientific understanding that cannot be maintained in light of modern science and the Spirit’s work to undo the prejudices that perpetually seem to bind God’s people.
“Ah, but the Bible is the inspired Word of God, and who are we to disagree with what God has said?” some might argue. But to affirm the inspiration of Scripture does not mean that all points are true for all times and all places. Otherwise, faithful Christians would also have to maintain that women may not speak in church (1 Timothy 2:12); modern-day slaves in Haiti, Pakistan, India and other countries are called by God to obey their masters (Ephesians 6:5 and Col 3:22); and if a woman is abused by her husband, she is not permitted to remarry after a divorce (Matthew 19).
No, simply to quote Scripture is not sufficient; particularly when there are questions of science, human knowledge and cultural prejudice that have changed since the times these texts were written. We value women and slaves differently than ancient times — that is at the heart of the Gospel message even if it was not reflected in some individual passages that addressed ancient situations. Careful exegesis, consideration of the culture the text came from and was written to, all placed within prayerful conversation among Christians who seek to discern God’s will — all of this is essential if we are to determine more clearly God’s Biblical call for us today.
The real and true question that remains unanswered in the Rev. Smith’s column is this: What is the call of the church to LGBTQ Christians? Does he agree with Paul that sexuality is chosen, that they should therefore change and be straight? Or does he believe LGBTQ Christians should live a life of celibacy — one to which few people are gifted and one that, when forced, often results in repression and unhealthy expressions of sexual behavior?
I don’t believe the Rev. Smith is being dishonest or twisting Scripture — two charges he has leveled very clearly against me. Rather, I believe we both disagree regarding what portions of Scripture are true for all times and places and which are culturally limited. Context is indeed essential.
Furthermore, churches like mine are not just telling people to do what feels good. Rather, we are maintaining that marriage is indeed the proper avenue for sexual expression — we simply disagree with him that this discipline (which is rarely easy!) should be limited only to opposite-sex couples. Same-sex marriage is disciplined choice.
Until the broader Christian church starts considering more carefully the context of these passages and, just as importantly, the pain of LGBTQ Christians who have suffered from being told their orientation is in need of transformation (a message that is behind countless tragic suicides in our country and ongoing murders in others), then the church will remain out of step with a God who seeks to undo our prejudices against each other and call all people into one united body, rainbows and all.
“For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, so that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it.” (Eph. 2:14–16)
My column in today's Grand Haven Tribune on whether or not marriage is a state that is proper both to opposite sex and same-sex couples. The print version was edited slightly (probably for length!), so I'm posting the full version I wrote here.
In my last column, I wrote about “the notorious six,” the six passages of Scripture that deal explicitly with the question of homosexuality. I talked about how two are from a Levitical code that condemns many things we don’t believe are sinful for us today (Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13). Two are stories of brutal rape (Genesis 19:1–29 and Judges 19:1–30). One is Paul’s condemnation of a system of male prostitution (1 Corinthians 6:9). The final one is Paul’s condemnation of those who give up what is natural for the purpose of sexual experimentation (Romans 1:18–29). I argued none of these even consider, much less reject, the reality of the covenanted sharing of life and sexual intimacy between two people of the same-sex.
So the question remains, however, whether marriage is indeed the proper state, the best call to gay Christians. This question raises up an oft-overlooked verse in the debate. Though Jesus never chose to address the question of same-sex activity in any form, he did address the question of marriage. He says in Matthew 19, “Have you not read that the one who made them at the beginning ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh?’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh.”
How does this text affect our understanding of same-sex relationships, particularly as they relate to the Christian teaching of marriage?
What Jesus is describing here is the primeval origin of marriage, what God had intended when he made the first two people back in Genesis 1–2. The original intent of marriage, at the beginning, was one man and one woman united for life. And the primary purpose of that relationship, as described in Genesis, was so a person would not be alone, but would have “a helper as his partner.”
You might be catching that when Jesus references this ancient text, he is actually not primarily concerned about same-sex relationships, but rather with the question of divorce. Indeed, for conservative Christians who have embraced a more generous understanding of divorce, one that allows for remarriage as an experience of grace after that tragedy—for those same Christians to use this text to reject same-sex relationships is one of the cheapest interpretive moves out there in contemporary Christianity.
Jesus’ disagreement in Matthew 19 is with a system of divorce that had grown from the Mosaic code, one in which women had no choice but could simply be dismissed at will. This increasingly led to poverty, to the discarding of someone after a man was done with her. Jesus rejects this, insisting that just because the code allowed for divorce in our fallen world does not mean that people can be discarded. He insisted that the allowance of divorce does not change the original intention of marriage—to wit, that it should be life-long, that it was focused on a self-giving care for the other.
Christians are people of grace, people who, following Jesus, do not use the law to wound, but use the law of love to heal. For that reason, many contemporary Christians find no trouble agreeing with Jesus that discarding people is wrong, but still would say that if a divorce does happen—always a tragedy—those divorced people are not precluded from the grace of remarriage in the future.
Similarly, one of the original creation intents of marriage was for the procreation of children. However, some couples are not able to do that. Some choose not to do that. We do not forbid them from marriage. The vast majority of Christians also would not forbid them from the experience of sex within that marriage. One of the biggest reasons is because the actual creation intent that comes from God’s own mouth is that marriage is so that a person is not alone, but that she or he can live a partnered life with another.
So, for people who, simply through the virtue of how they were created, are gay or lesbian… what is the graced response? When it comes to divorced people and those who cannot (or choose not to) bear children, two groups who may not experience the full original intent of marriage in creation, they are still invited to marriage because of the deeper grace of a covenanted life with a partner. Will the church also share that grace with those who, because they are gay or lesbian, clearly cannot be united for life in a sexual union with someone of the opposite-sex, not without entering into a relationship that will wound much more than it will heal?
Jesus is teaching us about the intent of marriage—not about the only possible way it can be experienced. For the church to be an avenue of grace in our world, it must offer the grace of marriage to GLBTQ people just the same as it does to those who are divorced, just the same as it does to those who are infertile or who choose not to have children.
Jesus also taught the legalists in his day that humans were not created for the law, but the law was created for humans (Mk 2:27). Jesus rejected those who took such a strict interpretation of the law that it wound up wounding those without power, tying burdens on people’s backs that were impossible to carry. He rejected religious leaders who would not try to lift those weights (Mt 23:4 and Lk 11:46). Jesus taught us that disciplined love is at the heart of who we are. And disciplined love does indeed call for all people in the church to have access to all of the sacraments—including that of Holy Matrimony.
The Very Rev. Jared C. Cramer serves as rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Grand Haven and as dean of the Lakeshore Deanery of the Diocese of Western Michigan. He will be offering a four-week series on the Christian Teaching of Marriage on Wednesday nights in August at St. John’s, from 5:30pm–6:30pm, after 5:15pm Evening Prayer. All are welcome.
I know that I have been approached several times with requests for more information about what the Bible actually teaches on this question.
Most of the debate centers around six verses in the Bible. Yes, that is correct -- there are only six verses that explicitly deal with this question.
Two of those verses are in Leviticus (18:22 and 20:13), a part of the Levitical code that also prohibits eating crabs, clams and oysters as an abomination, among other things. It says you cannot wear clothing that mixes fabric or trim the edges of your beard. Clearly, these verses were written to a cultural and religious context that is not our own.
The next two, Genesis 19:1--29 and Judges 19:1--30, are very similar. Genesis 19 is the story of Sodom and Judges 19 is clearly also based upon that text. In both stories, a mob of men seeks to rape a man who is visiting. In the Judges text, when that becomes impossible, they rape the man's female concubine instead. Once more, clearly this text is a condemnation of rape -- the gender of who is involved seems beside the point. We can read these stories and all agree that rape is heinous and wrong.
The remaining two are in the New Testament, both from Paul. In 1 Corinthians 6:9, Paul lists categories of sinners who will not inherit God's kingdom. He uses two specific Greek words that don't translate well to our culture: malakos and aresenokoites. These words are used to describe a Greco-Roman system in which older men paid to have sex with younger men. The issue is paying for sex, particularly because this is almost always coercive to the one being paid. Once more, clearly wrong, not clearly a condemnation of all forms of same-sex activity.
Finally, there is Romans 1:18--29, a text in which Paul describes the fallenness of our world. He talks about those who have given up the Creator to worship the created, about women and men who gave up what was natural to engage in what was unnatural, something Paul describes as having sex with someone of the same sex. What's important to note here is Paul's description hinges upon two things: his understanding of what is natural and the giving up of oneself to sexual delight and experimentation.
Paul had no conception of homosexuality as a natural reality for a small percentage of the population. He did not know what we know now, that some people are homosexual for reasons outside of their choices (likely a combination of genetics and hormones). He did not know what we know now, that we also see homosexuality among a small percentage of the animal kingdom. He is writing about sexual experimentation and hedonism, about the choice to place the fulfillment of lust above all else.
Ironically enough, same-sex marriage is the most powerful answer to Paul's argument in Romans 1. Those who argue that homosexual persons should "change" and be straight are the ones insisting they should give up what is natural to them. Those who insist they should remain celibate are leaving homosexual persons in a tenuous state, one that (unless you have the spiritual gift to pull it off) means you will likely live a life of pain interspersed with unhealthy sexual experiences.
Rather, those who wish to get married are doing so precisely because they want to avoid the sin described in Romans 1. They don't want to turn from who they naturally are. They don't want to burn with lust and be tempted to make bad decisions. They want to do what Christians have historically believed is the best option for sexual expression -- enter into a life-long commitment that is disciplined and involves self-sacrifice.
As I've argued before, same-sex marriage is actually an inherently conservative choice. In a culture that rarely respects marriage, where sex is far too often cheap, at best, and destructive, at worst, it simply boggles my mind that Christians would tell gay people not to get married. The Christian call to all people, gay or straight, is to live disciplined lives, where sexuality is experienced in a covenanted relationship, a place where it can be the avenue of grace that God intended it to be.
The only remaining question is whether marriage is indeed the proper avenue for gay Christians seeking that covenanted and disciplined commitment. I'll explore that question in my next column.
-- By the Very Rev. Jared Cramer, who serves as rector of St. John's Episcopal Church in Grand Haven and as dean of the Lakeshore Deanery of the Diocese of Western Michigan. He will be offering a four-week series on the Christian Teaching of Marriage on Wednesday nights in August at St. John's, from 5:30-6:30 p.m., after the 5:15 Evening Prayer. All are welcome.
Have you ever walked around a city with a shirt saying, "I'm sorry"?
Let me tell you, it's a strange experience.
A few weeks ago, I got an invitation in my e-mail to participate in an "I'm Sorry" event at the West Michigan Pride festival in Grand Rapids. I get all kinds of strange invitations to things, so I took this one rather skeptically and did some digging.
I eventually came across this picture:
Photo Credit: Michelle at Maladjusted Media
I had a feeling that this event might actually be on to something.
I dug around a bit more and decided that this was the sort of thing I wanted to be a part of. To be honest, I didn't even know Grand Rapids had a Pride event at all (much to my chagrin). I e-mailed the organizer of the local "I'm Sorry" campaign and put out a sign-up sheet at my parish.
When I woke up this morning, I had no idea what to expect. The Rev. John Edwin Infante Pinzon, a deacon in the Episcopal Diocese of Colombia is here staying with me and I asked if he wanted to join me. He was very enthusiastic. So we donned our clericals and headed to downtown Grand Rapids.
We met up with the handful of others who were there—including a Facebook friend who occasionally shows up at my parish with his husband—and were given our "I'm Sorry" t-shirts. I put it on over my clericals and settled in for the next few hours.
Let me tell you a bit of what grace looks like.
There is a couple of young women walking toward me. They see a group outside the gates of the Pride event holding signs and look at us rather sideways. They are as skeptical as I was. Then they read the first sign, "God is love." They read the second, "I'm sorry the church has hurt you." They see the one I am holding, in my clerical collar, t-shirt over top, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
The pace slows and the two women look at me. One of them has tears well up in her eyes as she mouths, "Thank you."
I smile and say, "I really am sorry. Thank you for who you are. I love you."
And then they move on.
This, beloved, is what grace looks like. Over and over again, people stopping, asking if they can take pictures. A few asked if we were serious. We said we were. That we really were sorry.
Then we often hugged.
And let me tell you, hugging someone after apologizing for the church having told them a false narrative of damnation their whole lives, hugging a person after that apology... that is one serious hug.
One of my friends on Facebook noted that I was not the sort of Christian who needed to apologize, that I had been affirming before he had even learned to affirm himself as a bisexual. I was reminded of one of my favorite lectures David Fleer would give in the Old Testament Survey class at Rochester College, a class for which I was the tutor for several years.
He would talk about what slavery actually looked like in America in the south. He would tell a story of a young woman who worked hard all day until her fingers bled, who had been sold and traded over and over again. And then he would talk about her master climbing into her bed and demanding the last scrap of humanity she had left.
Then he would say, "Tell me, don't you think someone needs to say, 'I'm sorry,' when it comes to horror like that? Don't you think we bear a responsibility to do something today in response to such monstrosity?"
And we, young evangelicals who had been told that reparations were a liberal fantasy, would gulp and say, "Yes. Absolutely."
He told this story to illustrate the story of Nehemiah, the prophet who helped the people rebuild Jerusalem but who led them first to confess the sins of their ancestors. He did this to make it clear why it might be a good idea to stand up and apologize for the wrongs of those who went before you.
At one point, someone sent me to go get something, and so I went on a short walk around Grand Rapids in my clerical collar with a white t-shirt over top saying, "I'm sorry." It felt like a scarlet letter. People looked and often seemed confused. One young woman asked what I was doing and I explained, "I'm part of a group who wants to say I'm sorry because the church has done tremendous harm to the GLBTQ community." She said, "Oh, wow. That's really cool."
I wore that shirt because I do believe the church needs to say I'm sorry. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of good things going on today. There were probably four or five booths inside the festival that were set up by churches who were there to proclaim welcome and acceptance.
But a lot of people have been really hurt by the church. And so, before they go into that festival, before they hear the words of welcome, I think they did need to hear some Christians say, "I'm sorry. I really am sorry."
And I wore that shirt for the times I have failed. I wore that shirt for the gay slurs I used when I was a foolish middle-school student, slurs I used against someone who wound up, a few years later, becoming one of my closest friends. I wore that shirt for an ex-girlfriend from my teenage years who I later met, for when she told me she was a lesbian and I questioned how she could say that and be a Christian. I wore that shirt because, despite my position today, I have screwed this thing up royally in the past.
I was sorry. I am sorry. I am so deeply and profoundly sorry.
Anytime someone said hello or thank you to our group, my friend Todd would respond, "I'm sorry." I tried to do it to, but it was hard. Our culture is horrible at apologizing, but eventually I got the hang of it. Three older people would walk by and one would say, "Thank you for this." I learned to respond, "You're welcome. I really am sorry. I truly am."
Over and over again, people would hear this, would read our signs, and would start tearing up.
Tears, beloved. Today was a day of tears.
I think I was almost in a dream today. I was in a place, like an orphanage, that was filled with children who had been rejected by God's family, children who had been rejected over and over and over again. And we stood up and acknowledged that. We acknowledged that there needed to be some repentance here, some actual declaration that the body of Christ had truly failed on this thing.
Because this community, this strange and diverse GLBTQ community had continued the Body of Christ after the larger Body had sought to cut it off. They created their own community, their own sense of pride and wonder in all of God's wonderfully fantastic and glorious creations. Some Christians thought this community was different, but we were wrong. It was a part of Christ's body that had been lopped off due to ignorance and prejudice.
Today we said I'm sorry.
Today we asked that other part of the Body if they would welcome us home.
Because they are the ones who now hold our salvation.
On Facebook yesterday, I posted an article by Bishop Matthew Gunter of the Diocese of Fond du Lac, entitled, "Baptized into Eucharist—The Problem with 'Open Communion,' Some Anecdotes." In it, Bishop Gunter shares some of his experiences with this question as a priest, experiences that I found refreshing because they so honestly depicted what this actually looks like on the ground in the average parish.
The idea that those who oppose Communion Regardless of Baptism (or CROB, my preferred term, particularly since "Open Communion" already has a defined ecumenical meaning and is something the Episcopal joyfully practices and that other traditions, particularly Roman Catholics, reject), the idea that we are somehow checking cards at the rail or even turning away from the rail someone we know to be unbaptized is not only untrue, it is disingenuous to the pastoral training and approach of most every cleric in our church. This is not a question that is answered at the rail—it is one answered in the pastoral relationships that flow from the rail.
So, I thought it was a good article.
In particular, I loved the quote from Bishop Rowan Williams, retired Archbishop of Canterbury,
It must be said, of course, that this complete sharing of baptismal and Eucharistic life does not happen rapidly or easily, and the problem remains of how the church is to show its openness without simply abandoning its explicit commitment to the one focal interpretive story of Jesus. To share Eucharistic communion with someone unbaptized, or committed to another story or system, is odd-not because the sacrament is 'profaned', or because grace cannot he be given to those outside the household, but because the symbolic integrity of the Eucharist depends upon its being celebrated by those who both commit themselves to the paradigm of Jesus' death and resurrection and acknowledge that their violence is violence offered to Jesus. All their betrayals are to be understood as betrayals of him; and through that understanding comes forgiveness and hope. Those who do not so understand themselves and their sin or their loss will not make the same identification of their victims with Jesus, nor will they necessarily understand their hope for their vocation in relation to him and his community. Their participation is thus anomalous: it is hard to see the meaning of what is being done.
– Rowan Williams, Resurrection: Interpreting the Easter Gospel, p. 61
Now, I've written about the question of Communion regardless of Baptism before ("A Slight Rant on Current Arguments for CROB"). In that essay I not only expressed my frustration at the straw men advocates of CROB often trot out, but I argued that CROB was actually a diversionary tactic by a Christianity that has become too timid to proclaim a real welcome into our homes for meals.
Indeed, over and over again people argue that Jesus practiced radically open table fellowship, that this is the the fundamental point undergirding communing the unbaptized. However, strangely enough, those same people rarely make the argument that Jesus' table fellowship mean we should start inviting all people into our homes for meals (which would be the more natural conclusion).
Interestingly, I have even had advocates of CROB criticize me for two programs I lead in local bars, one a "Theology on Tap" and the other a "Whiskey School." They have criticized the presence of alcohol at events I host—though I am careful in both to be very clear that neither is an activity of our local Episcopal parish and are simply events I host on my own as a priest. To me, events like this are the actual outgrowth of Jesus' practices of table-fellowship (and why he was criticized for it as well). These events put me in touch with people I would likely never meet in another situation, they are opportunities for relationship to begin.
Radical table-fellowship, as Jesus practiced it, is about an invitation to relationship. That invitation should be broad and expansive, heading out into all sorts of places that might be seedy and questionable. I believe in radical table-fellowship—I simply believe that CROB is a wimpy way out that still assumes the best way to reach out to the unbaptized is when they wander into one of our churches.
However, there is a deeper question that I want to explore right now, one that was raised on the Facebook post.
I think that one of the items I find unfortunate is that this question gets discussed in the question of "inclusion vs. exclusion" as though communion of the unbaptized is necessarily an exclusionary approach and welcoming the unbaptized to receive the sacrament is always an inclusionary approach. The church should be about including all people, the argument goes, so we should include all people in Holy Eucharist.
First off, I think that this position is in error because it places the question of inclusion at the center of what it means to be church. Of course, the idea that Christians should be inclusive is indeed central to much of the rhetoric in the Episcopal Church these days... but it seems to me that inclusion, in and of itself, is not a fundamental Gospel concept.
Instead, the primary question, for me, is "reconciliation." Reconciliation is the ministry of the church. In the words of the BCP, our mission is "to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ" (BCP 855). Or, as this is rather eloquently put in the Second Letter to the Corinthians (5:16–20):
From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.
God has been bold and reckless, loving us when we were yet sinners and entrusting us, as the Body of Christ in the world, with the ministry of reconciliation, with restoring all the brokenness of this world—both the brokenness of our relationships with each other and creation and the brokenness of our relationships with the divine.
With reconciliation standing at the center of who we are as Christians, the conversation about the Eucharistic table becomes slightly different. The fundamental question becomes, which better enacts and effects the church's ministry of reconciliation, the inviting of the unbaptized to join in the Eucharistic act or the maintaining of baptism as what invites us into that Eucharistic act?
Honestly, to me, the welcome to receive a blessing and kneel alongside Christians, to me, is a reconciling act. We bless freely and with abandon at the Eucharistic table, declaring God's love over all people and all things. That is a profound statement of grace.
And by stating in our rubrics and our bulletins that all people are welcome to the altar—all people—either to receive a blessing or the sacrament, we are practicing profound welcome. Because by maintaining the distinction between blessing and the sacrament, we are saying that full reconciliation (our being made one with you) would involve something more. By acknowledging distinction we honor those who are not Christian and create space for reconciliation, if the person desires it.
That is, to welcome the unbaptized to receive communion seems, to me, to enact a community that is not authentic. By practicing an easy inclusion—one that comes at no real cost, other than making people like me grumpy—the deeper opportunities for reconciliation are brushed under the rug and avoided. As much as I love non-Christians and pagans, as much as I adore reading about Hinduism and Buddhism, as much respect as I have for the traditions of Judaism and Islam, I am not one with those religions. They are not one with me.
Don't get me wrong, it could be that in the end of all existence, when we are all caught up in divine love, we will all wind up united anyway and hell will be emptied by the thunderous love of God. Heck, that's actually what I hope will be the case. It's actually what I believe is the most likely end.
But I am called to live authentically today. And that means acknowledging difference where difference exists. That means honoring and loving those who do not practice the Christian faith—not inviting them to pretend they are Christians by joining in the sacramental act that is central to what it means to be a Christian.
Because Christians are those who have died to self and been united with Christ's body through the act of baptism. Holy Eucharist is our constant experience of uniting ourselves (through the symbols of our gifts of bread and wine) to Christ's sacrifice on the cross, a union that flows from our baptismal identification with Christ's death.
In Holy Eucharist, we receive the body and blood of Christ precisely because we are one body in Christ. As we say in the sending out of Eucharistic Visitors, "We who are many are one body because we share one bread and one cup." Or, as the ancient words of St. Augustine at communion, used at the invitation to communion by the Society of St. John the Evangelist, "Behold what you are. May we become what we receive." For the unbaptized, this is not yet what they are. This is not the end to which they point.
Those who are not Christian are not a part of the Body of Christ. That does not mean they are not a part of God's activity in the world. Any theologian worth her or his salt will tell you that. It just means they are not incorporated into Christ, into this particular manifestation of God in the world that we, as Christians, have chosen to call true.
And this raises one final point—a liturgical point, but one that I believe is absolutely essential.
There is a slight idea present in CROB, I think, an idea that forgets that it is the assembled Body of Christ who, through invocation of the Spirit, effect the Sacrament of Holy Eucharist. It is not the priest. The priest is simply the presider for the people. It is the community that makes the sacrament "happen." We give ourselves to God once more and God turns our gifts of ourselves—through bread and wine—into the Christ we follow, inviting us to feed on Christ. We are all priests, a kingdom of priests, gathered around the altar.
The unbaptized may be bystanders in this experience. They may see it and be profoundly moved, deeply drawn to God becoming flesh once more through bread and wine, prayer and praise. But they are not yet a part of the kingdom of priests who make this happen, they are not incorporated into the body which calls God to be present.
When the priest offers the sacrament to the unbaptized, the priest not only robs the laity of their voice in the governance of the church (since the laity have a clear voice in determining, though General Convention and, from that, the canons and the Book of Common Prayer, who may or may not receive the Sacrament), but they also rob the unbaptized of the experience of actual incorporation into the kingdom of priests who are able to call upon Christ's presence to greet them at each act of Holy Communion.
By collapsing distinction, they remove the possibility for reconciliation and incorporation into the Body. By saying they are already a part of us, they rob the unbaptized of the experience of what it feels like to become a part of us.
We had this happen at my church. We had a young woman, a nursery care worker, who fell in love with the community here. She wound up resigning as a worker so she could be a worshipping member of the community in the Nave every Sunday. She took communion once or twice and rejoiced in her new journey. She then discovered she was not baptized and came to me. We talked. I told her not to worry, she had not committed sin or error, that she was now simply being invited by God to journey deeper. She entered the catechumenate in our church. For several months she did not receive the Sacrament, but a blessing instead. She journeyed through the catechumenate, building relationships with baptized members who were preparing for the reaffirmation of their own baptismal vows.
And then, on the Great Vigil of Easter, she was plunged into a big feeding trough filled with cold water. She truly felt like she was dying, she later told me. She rose up from the water and the bishop rubbed scented oil on her head. The candidates for reaffirmation then came around her, wrapping her in clean white towels, welcoming her among them, welcoming her among us.
Then, gathered with the community, she now joined us in calling upon her Lord to be present. She now came to the altar, fully a part of Christ's body. She received bread and wine as a part of the body of Christ. She became reconciled and restored, a part of Christ's body in the world. She died to herself, laid herself on that altar, and then received back new life in bread and wine in a body and blood that was a part of her as a member of Christ's body.
And now her husband has started coming. Now he wants to know when the next catechumenate will open. Now he wants to be reconciled with Christ, to become part of Christ's body.
She hungered and then she was fed. He is hungry and he will be fed because the church welcomes all to these baptismal waters.
But if there is no opportunity for hunger, the feeding will never be as sweet.
And if we simply include everyone who comes then, I fear, the moment and opportunity for true and deep reconciliation will be lost.
I tried my hand at the Bible, tried my hand at prayer, but now nothing but the water is gonna bring my soul to bear.
Earlier this month, in Garland, Texas, an activist named Pamela Gellar sponsored an event called “Jihad Watch Muhammad Art Exhibit and Cartoon Contest.”
She did this because she believes America is facing a dangerous “Islamization.” She believes Muslims are seeking to impose the practice of their religion on society. She believes we are facing a war and she uses violent language to describe her understanding of the situation.
Due to the vitriol and misrepresentation in her views, the Southern Poverty Law Center now lists her organization as a hate group...
