Now what?

Have you ever read a book
Where the plot takes a turn
And the unexpected happens?

Have you ever seen a movie
Where you knew the outcome from the start,
Only you didn't?

Have you ever waited anxiously,
Not knowing what would come,
Or how life would resolve?

I imagine that must be how Mary felt.
Carrying life from God within,
And watching that Child grow.

And wondering, "Now what?"

- DJC, December 2009

Is this a formula for growth?

Recently the Bishop of Arizona opened his weekly newsletter with this paragraph:

It is probably a truism that Episcopalians generally tend to be theologically conservative but socially liberal. We usually do a pretty good job of holding these two perspectives in tension. In fact, this tension is what makes our denomination so attractive to many (myself included).

K. Smith, Bishop of Arizona, December 2009

The Bishop continues by expressing his views on what these words mean, but I must admit that when I read the first sentence here, I was first of all taken aback by such a statement, and had to check the definition of "truism" lest I was misreading his words. (truism: A claim that is so obvious or self-evident as to be hardly worth mentioning, except as a reminder or as a rhetorical or literary device. That word meant what I thought it meant.)

I find his statement in the first sentence quite telling. The average age of an Episcopal church parish in the US is a bit over 57. In Arizona, the average age is likely to be higher, given the popularity of the state for retirees. The average age of the US population is about 34. So I suspect that an equally valid statement would be this: "It is probably a truism that population groups with an average age over 57 tend to be theologically conservative." Even if the Bishop's statement is true, it does a serious disservice to the church to declare it a truism, because making it such an inherent assumption silences dissent and leads to actions that are not well considered.

Here's a situation that shows what I mean here. My (now former, as of two weeks ago when I resigned from the Bishop's Committee) parish was founded to try to construct something new, to truly be inclusive, and to hold in tension a disparity of theological perspectives while building a community of faith. Eventually, the parish built a building, moved in, and continued holding services for the diversity of the membership: a music free Rite I service, a rather traditional Rite II service, and a contemporary service that included both traditional elements and readings from more contemporary authors as well as different faith communities.

Shortly after moving in to the building, the founding Vicar retired, and a search for a new Vicar ensued. A rather progressive priest was found and hired, but did not work out for a number of reasons. At that point the Bishop appointed, without input from the community, a new Vicar. That was 2 years ago. In the ensuing time, the new Vicar has proven to be quite theologically conservative, and insistent that there was no other way to God for the parish than through the conservative path. At this point, there are only a handful of theologically progressive members left in the congregation; the rest have been driven out, oh so gently, from the community that we love. There is now only one progressive Episcopal parish in the Tucson region, and it is in the process of searching for a replacement for the recently retired Rector. The Bishop has insisted on vetting all candidates.

If you start from the premise that Episcopal parishes are by definition theologically conservative, you'll end up with theologically conservative parishes, particularly when you insist on applying pretty heavy control over the process of selecting parish leadership.

So, to quote another one of those of us that have been dispossessed from our community by these actions, "Now what?" It is no longer clear that the vaunted large tent of the Episcopal communion extends to those of us that hold to a progressive theological perspective, at least in the state of Arizona. We have no place to go, in spite of years of effort to be inclusive of all.

Maybe it's just me...

I was struck a few weeks back by the difference in form and substance between the RCL readings and the structure of the liturgy at the service I attended. Here's the reading that struck me this way:

"Therefore, my friends, since we have confidence to enter the sanctuary by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain (that is, through his flesh), and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching."

-- Heb 10: 19-25

Those that know me know that I don't particularly care for the weekly practice of confession of sin and absolution, not because I don't think that we all sin, but rather because to me it seems disrespectful of God's grace towards us. To me, it better reflects the gospel and the whole thrust of the good news -- and besides, it matches Hebrews this way! -- to have this call and response be one of confession of hope and call to service, rather than confession of sin and absolution. The former calls for action because of God's actions on our behalf; the latter has us moaning and actually being quite passive.

At least, that is how it seems to me.

A Christian Nation?

"In order for our children to survive in the world, they need a firm understanding and belief in the basic principles of sharing freedom and respect of individuality."

--Haida Gwaii, Traditional Circle of Elders

There is a contingent in the US that lives by the credo that we are a "Christian nation." It makes me wonder what they think Christ would actually say about the actions they espouse. The platform of this group seems to be that anyone - ANYONE! - that disagrees with their political agenda is going straight to hell.

It seems to me we'd be better off examining the behavior one might expect from a Christian nation. The more I think about what that might look like, the more impossible it seems, because one of the first tenets that emerge for me is this:

All humankind is in the image of God, and as such is to be respected and valued.

Now suppose that is an accepted principle. What should it mean for a nation that follows it? Well, one of the very first things that occurs to me is that it requires that differing views be respected and heard. Hence freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and freedom of the press. Without these, we deny the dignity of those we disagree with.

But what do we do then with the non-Christian that comes along? We must accept and value this person with views different from the (supposed) majority. Accept, value, and truly hear. That means more than let the vibrations from their vocal cords rattle our eardrums, it means listen attentively, think and contemplate what they say, and learn to live with and accept them -- they are, after all, created in God's image.

Okay, so we must accept all people. And give them a voice. What that means is that we must let everyone participate. No limitations. No "your faith must match mine."

So much for a viable "Christian nation" as it is often defined. But by the same token, if we only could truly give up any attempt at such a nation, if we could STOP demanding that everybody's beliefs conform to some ill defined set of creeds and instead include everyone equally, only then would we have a chance at a nation that actually follows the way of Christ.