Showing posts with label Religion and Ministry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion and Ministry. Show all posts
Monday, July 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Emergent pope speaks at Lambeth
Photo/Mary Frances Schjonberg© 2008 Episcopal Life Online
Brian McClaren spoke on behalf of emerging types at the Lambeth Conference a few days back, and apparently gave a shout out to COTA in Seattle, which is cool.
For those of us in the emerging know, Brian's message was by this point predictable, but it's spiriting none the less that it appeared at Lambeth (quoted from Episcopal Life Online):
"McLaren said the emerging culture "has been orphaned by religion -- religion has stopped answering its questions, it stopped making sense, it was very willing to withdraw into its shell and have the world fall apart." He said the culture has also been orphaned by science "that promised solution but ended up giving only more deadly weapons. And it turns out that many of yesterday's solutions caused today's terrifying problems." Members of this world have also been orphaned by technology, economic systems and consumerism and by "governments that continually promised them the world and continually deliver pitifully mediocre results."
He also gave what I think is a deserved shout out to Anglicanism from the emerging perspective:
"McLaren called on the bishops and others to recognize and use Anglicanism's characteristics and diversity to make disciples in the emerging world. "Some of the best teachers explaining the Gospel of the kingdom of God are Anglicans," he said...He said movements within the Anglican Communion, such as the Church of England's Fresh Expressions effort and the Alpha Course, are "wonderful, creative" ways of bringing Christianity into that world.
In addition, "the fact that you are a global communion means that you are forced to realize that different cultures are dealing with different struggles -- there's no one-size-fits-all solution," he said. Acknowledging that those diverse contexts are the "source of some of the struggles in the communion," McLaren said they can be a "great asset if you realize that we're in different place, different contexts [and] we have different challenges."
Anglican liturgy, he said, "makes space for spiritual seekers in a way that a lot of mean-spirited Protestant preaching doesn't." The liturgy offers "beauty, mystery, intelligence, clarity," he added."
It'll be interesting to hear how Bishops are responding to his presentation. Olympia's Bishop, Greg Rickel, was enthusiastic, as was Bishop Alan. Those were pretty predictable though: they're bloggers. I'm more interested to hear how (or if) GAFCON and Global South types respond. I've got a sort of vague sense that "traditionalists" don't generally like the emerging church, but it doesn't seem to be a big enough stream yet internationally to really get people upset in one direction or another. It also doesn't seem that there's much participation in the emerging dialogue from south of the equator, which is of course where most Anglicans live. We market ourselves as a sort of third option, and you do see some generally constructive dialogue happening in emerging circles, even around the issue of sexuality. From here out it will be intriguing to see how much attention is given to the themes of the emerging dialogue in the global Anglican conversation. I've always viewed the 'emerging conversation' as almost a euphamism for 'what the youngsters are talking about', and it would make sense that young leaders would hammer out the solutions that will lead us forward--we're the ones who are going to have to live in the world we create, after all.
Monday, July 21, 2008
And the Lord Said, "Let there be Assault Rifles"
Everyone's been posting on the Oklahoma church that was planning to give away an assault rifle as a prize at a youth event. I guess I should take a swing. I actually think it's a great idea of outside of the box evangelistic thinking. Along similar lines, if the Promise Keepers would hold a Vegas rally with free prostitutes they'd be relevant again. Free Meth at New Life in Colorado Springs? Joel Osteen giving out a thousand free stolen Rolexes? I'd assume this is what Jesus meant with his command to St. Peter to "Feed my Sheep".
My favorite line from the video on the link above: "Our primary targets (ominous pause) are the young people".
My favorite line from the video on the link above: "Our primary targets (ominous pause) are the young people".
Sunday, July 20, 2008
On Heaven
(I'm writing on Friday, but I've timed this post to appear just as I'm preaching this sermon on Sunday. For some reason it still makes me giddy to think I can make things appear on the internet whenever I want. (I'm magic.))
When I hear the word heaven, these days I think of the lyrics to that old song “The Big Rock Candy Mountain”. I don’t know if you’ve heard it, but it’s on my iPod so it drums its way into my head on a regular basis. It’s a turn of the century song that paints a satirical and evocative picture of paradise from the perspective of a hobo. My favorite verse goes:
When I hear the word heaven, these days I think of the lyrics to that old song “The Big Rock Candy Mountain”. I don’t know if you’ve heard it, but it’s on my iPod so it drums its way into my head on a regular basis. It’s a turn of the century song that paints a satirical and evocative picture of paradise from the perspective of a hobo. My favorite verse goes:
For those of us living outside of the context of persecution, this kind of image of God is shocking. The God we talk about is generally one who loves and forgives—not one who destroys angrily.
Indeed, with a level head we can recognize that this passage’s imagery is only one part of the story. We temper it with Jesus’ commands to love our enemy, and the vision from 2nd Corinthians, for instance, that God reconciled the world to himself in Christ, and doesn’t count our sins and faults against us. (As a theologically weighty side note, following one of my favorite Anglican theologians John Polkinghorne, I personally think this should lead us to hope for a heaven where hell is a temporary state—where justice is served and ultimately all things and people are reconciled to each other and to God.)
In any case though, the shocking imagery from this passage draws to our attention one aspect of the nature of the
For a final thought, as citizens of the world pre-heaven, and as those who want to follow God’s will, the corresponding message here is a call to justice and reconciliation—we’re not to seek vengeance or take a “burn in hell” attitude towards those who do evil in this world (God will right things in the end), but we’re to be the metaphorical “sowers of good seed”, working for the vision of a world free from suffering and injustice. In this work, we will be creating for each other the sort of context this side of heaven where the first image that pops to mind when we talk about the afterlife won’t be an end to the sufferings of the present life, but hope for an experience of the continuation of the joys of this existence.
Amen
Friday, July 18, 2008
My Liturgical Dance for the Presiding Bishop
I knew this would be online at some point so I might as well bite the bullet and be the first to tell you about it. If you know me and like to see me embarrassed, you'll really want to watch. My appearance comes about a third of the way through and gets better as it goes along. When you have about 20 minutes, click on this link, and watch "Story of the Land". You might as well go full screen for the whole experience.
Tracking Lambeth...
The Lambeth Conference (Official Anglican Bishops Potluck and Social) has officially kicked off in Canterbury. It's certainly a historic one. I'm using this as my tracking hub. Here's the official site. +Gene Robinson's blog should make for some great reading across the next few weeks. A dialogue on the conference is starting to gain steam at Anglimergent.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Church Unity? Who gives a crap!
More on the whole GAFCON and Lambeth deal...
There's been a little bit of interesting discussion happening over at Anglimergent on the whole GAFCON/Anglican Unity/Lambeth deal. Tim Baer made a great suggestion, that
"Maybe a post-modern way to look at the Anglican Communion would be to say, who cares what bishops are in agreement or recognize each other, because Christians and Anglicans on the grassroots level will continue to have relationships and do important MDG/poverty causes on the ground."
My general impulse is to affirm that such an idea makes a lot of sense. There's something theologically sound and appropriately snarky about the idea of grassroots Anglicans protesting their leaders' inability to maintain communion by maintaining that communion themselves. That takes a bit of the edge off of the whole GAFCON/Lambeth discussion, and probably appropriately recognizes the silliness (and increasing social irrelevance?) of church leadership--what with their fancy hats, pretentious titles, expensive world conferences, and websites with ridiculous second by second countdowns to their expensive world conferences. (Thanks for the hot tip, Mary Little.) Ultimately, as Tim suggested, what's going to happen isn't really a fracture in communion in the spiritual sense. Ecumenism has dealt with institutional divides for years, and emerging Anglican leaders are already building networks that cross institutional boundaries. That's the spirit behind Anglimergent and my mostly flaccid Facebook group, "Anglican, whether you like it or not". If there's a split, it will just produce birth another idiosyncratic group of Christians that we other Christians have to learn to love, accept and apologize for. Hell, we're all heretical schismatics anyway, except of course the Traditionalist Catholics.
I do have to wonder if that's really good enough though. I don't know. It just seems like too quick of a resignation when it comes to the traditional structure stuff. No matter how post-modern we are, ultimately our political affiliations do matter pragmatically, and those issues aside, it matters at least a little to me spiritually that the symbolic unity of the Anglican Communion--as amorphous as it is--might be be breaking along liberal/conservative lines. A big part of the appeal of Anglicanism to me is that we're supposed to be above all that. We've been on the same team since the 16th century, right? We're an icon of catholic unity, a symbol of hope in a divided world, yada yada yada...
Let's get real though. Maybe Anglicans are ultimately above all the conflict only to the degree that they don't have to confront it. Maybe we like unity with our liberal or conservative or northern or southern or black or white brothers and sisters only as long as it doesn't cause us any problems, or make us deal with any of our real issues. Nowadays, with the internet and HAM Radio and all that, we know everything important that's happening when it's happening (in bed) and it irks us. When we have to deal with it on a regular basis, it drives us crazy. So we split, head back to our geographic/political/theological enclaves, and preach to our respective choirs about the other guy's problems.
My hope is that it doesn't devolve into all of that. My expectation is that in the coming decades there will be a significant number of leaders on both sides of the theological fence and in the middle who will continue to struggle for the unity of the Anglican Communion, and that it will continue as a diverse, vital and vibrant expression of the Christian faith on all continents. People that don't want to participate don't have to, I suppose.
There's been a little bit of interesting discussion happening over at Anglimergent on the whole GAFCON/Anglican Unity/Lambeth deal. Tim Baer made a great suggestion, that
"Maybe a post-modern way to look at the Anglican Communion would be to say, who cares what bishops are in agreement or recognize each other, because Christians and Anglicans on the grassroots level will continue to have relationships and do important MDG/poverty causes on the ground."
My general impulse is to affirm that such an idea makes a lot of sense. There's something theologically sound and appropriately snarky about the idea of grassroots Anglicans protesting their leaders' inability to maintain communion by maintaining that communion themselves. That takes a bit of the edge off of the whole GAFCON/Lambeth discussion, and probably appropriately recognizes the silliness (and increasing social irrelevance?) of church leadership--what with their fancy hats, pretentious titles, expensive world conferences, and websites with ridiculous second by second countdowns to their expensive world conferences. (Thanks for the hot tip, Mary Little.) Ultimately, as Tim suggested, what's going to happen isn't really a fracture in communion in the spiritual sense. Ecumenism has dealt with institutional divides for years, and emerging Anglican leaders are already building networks that cross institutional boundaries. That's the spirit behind Anglimergent and my mostly flaccid Facebook group, "Anglican, whether you like it or not". If there's a split, it will just produce birth another idiosyncratic group of Christians that we other Christians have to learn to love, accept and apologize for. Hell, we're all heretical schismatics anyway, except of course the Traditionalist Catholics.
I do have to wonder if that's really good enough though. I don't know. It just seems like too quick of a resignation when it comes to the traditional structure stuff. No matter how post-modern we are, ultimately our political affiliations do matter pragmatically, and those issues aside, it matters at least a little to me spiritually that the symbolic unity of the Anglican Communion--as amorphous as it is--might be be breaking along liberal/conservative lines. A big part of the appeal of Anglicanism to me is that we're supposed to be above all that. We've been on the same team since the 16th century, right? We're an icon of catholic unity, a symbol of hope in a divided world, yada yada yada...
Let's get real though. Maybe Anglicans are ultimately above all the conflict only to the degree that they don't have to confront it. Maybe we like unity with our liberal or conservative or northern or southern or black or white brothers and sisters only as long as it doesn't cause us any problems, or make us deal with any of our real issues. Nowadays, with the internet and HAM Radio and all that, we know everything important that's happening when it's happening (in bed) and it irks us. When we have to deal with it on a regular basis, it drives us crazy. So we split, head back to our geographic/political/theological enclaves, and preach to our respective choirs about the other guy's problems.
My hope is that it doesn't devolve into all of that. My expectation is that in the coming decades there will be a significant number of leaders on both sides of the theological fence and in the middle who will continue to struggle for the unity of the Anglican Communion, and that it will continue as a diverse, vital and vibrant expression of the Christian faith on all continents. People that don't want to participate don't have to, I suppose.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
GAFCON
I'm genuinely sad about the seeming formal break in the Anglican Communion, though not particularly surprised at this point. There's lots of commentary here if you're interested.
For outsiders (and in response to Wes' question), here's an explanation of my understanding of some of the significance of what's happened at GAFCON:
Essentially, in the past the Archbishop of Canterbury has been an iconic leader of the Anglican Communion. He holds a "first among equals" kind of position, and doesn't have formal authority greater than any other bishop, other than that he is the one who extends invitations to the Lambeth Conference--a 10-yearly gathering of all of the bishops of the Anglican Communion which is considered a formal, again iconic, "instrument of unity" in the Anglican Communion. However, this has been an important power, as a Lambeth invitation has historically symbolized a recognition of ones' status as an Anglican bishop, and hence a recognition of your diocese's membership in the worldwide communion. There have been previous controversies when female bishops were invited to Lambeth, but this year's conference has been particularly contentious because of the controversy surrounding Gay Bishop Gene Robinson. He hasn't been invited to the first Lambeth for which he is eligible, which has generally made the liberals mad and the conservatives dissatisfied but encouraged. People in the middle are happy or disengaged, as they tend to be.
Despite the seeming concession from +++Williams, ahead of Lambeth (two weeks from now) the GAFCON conference essentially rejected this former role for the See of Canterbury to suggest that a Lambeth invitation does not one an Anglican make. That's an important post-colonial political statement, and symbolically some will read it as a power grab (though there wasn't really any formal power to be grabbed) and an assertion of the autonomy of the Global South and Conservative North (two use two not-quite-accurate designations). Pragmatically, what it says is that GAFCON Anglicans will no longer define Anglican identity according to Communion Membership, or the invitation to Lambeth, but according to a doctrinal statement:
"The doctrine of the Church is grounded in the Holy Scriptures and in such teachings of the ancient Fathers and Councils of the Church as are agreeable to the said Scriptures. In particular, such doctrine is to be found in the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, the Book of Common Prayer and the Ordinal."
You can see that this is a significant departure from a liberal catholic ethos where Anglicanism is defined by membership in a community towards a Protestant Ethos where Anglicanism is defined according to adherence to dogma. (It's also, I think, a rejection of much of the post-modern ethos as reflected in the emerging church movement, but I'm not entirely sure on that.) A good argument can be made that conservatives are in fact a majority in the Anglican Communion, so this isn't something that can be brushed off as irrelevant. That is, Anglicans can't just dismiss GAFCON participants and allow them to depart--they have to face up to the idea that Anglicanism proper may indeed be in the process of redefinition along more conservative lines. What I can see happening here is (another) mini-protestant reformation, and the formation of two or more churches, with each claiming Apostolic Authority or some other divine mandate. As the GAFCON folks assert, they aren't leaving the Anglican Communion, they're just redefining it and asserting their will, currently within it's structures (whatever that means). In effect they might be in the early stages of creating a new "one true" Communion that doesn't recognize the valididity of certain parts of the old Communion (i.e., the North American and other predominantly liberal churches). You already hear language here which suggests that GAFCON Anglicans should be evangelizing other Anglicans, and setting up shop where (illegitimate) churches/dioceses already exist. That's been happening in the US for quite some time, under the monikers Anglican Mission in America and CANA.
It remains to be seen what this will mean pragmatically, and how many will actually side with the GAFCON folks. The Communion is a very mixed bag already, and it isn't clear how many people and dioceses GAFCON actually represents--though it is probably clear that they don't represent as many as they claim. That said, it's a significant (and growing?) group of people who are disillusioned with traditional Anglican structures. At the least it represents a significant swipe at the inclusive Anglican ethos that I've appreciated, and at the worst it's the beginning stage of a formal schism.
For outsiders (and in response to Wes' question), here's an explanation of my understanding of some of the significance of what's happened at GAFCON:
Essentially, in the past the Archbishop of Canterbury has been an iconic leader of the Anglican Communion. He holds a "first among equals" kind of position, and doesn't have formal authority greater than any other bishop, other than that he is the one who extends invitations to the Lambeth Conference--a 10-yearly gathering of all of the bishops of the Anglican Communion which is considered a formal, again iconic, "instrument of unity" in the Anglican Communion. However, this has been an important power, as a Lambeth invitation has historically symbolized a recognition of ones' status as an Anglican bishop, and hence a recognition of your diocese's membership in the worldwide communion. There have been previous controversies when female bishops were invited to Lambeth, but this year's conference has been particularly contentious because of the controversy surrounding Gay Bishop Gene Robinson. He hasn't been invited to the first Lambeth for which he is eligible, which has generally made the liberals mad and the conservatives dissatisfied but encouraged. People in the middle are happy or disengaged, as they tend to be.
Despite the seeming concession from +++Williams, ahead of Lambeth (two weeks from now) the GAFCON conference essentially rejected this former role for the See of Canterbury to suggest that a Lambeth invitation does not one an Anglican make. That's an important post-colonial political statement, and symbolically some will read it as a power grab (though there wasn't really any formal power to be grabbed) and an assertion of the autonomy of the Global South and Conservative North (two use two not-quite-accurate designations). Pragmatically, what it says is that GAFCON Anglicans will no longer define Anglican identity according to Communion Membership, or the invitation to Lambeth, but according to a doctrinal statement:
"The doctrine of the Church is grounded in the Holy Scriptures and in such teachings of the ancient Fathers and Councils of the Church as are agreeable to the said Scriptures. In particular, such doctrine is to be found in the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, the Book of Common Prayer and the Ordinal."
You can see that this is a significant departure from a liberal catholic ethos where Anglicanism is defined by membership in a community towards a Protestant Ethos where Anglicanism is defined according to adherence to dogma. (It's also, I think, a rejection of much of the post-modern ethos as reflected in the emerging church movement, but I'm not entirely sure on that.) A good argument can be made that conservatives are in fact a majority in the Anglican Communion, so this isn't something that can be brushed off as irrelevant. That is, Anglicans can't just dismiss GAFCON participants and allow them to depart--they have to face up to the idea that Anglicanism proper may indeed be in the process of redefinition along more conservative lines. What I can see happening here is (another) mini-protestant reformation, and the formation of two or more churches, with each claiming Apostolic Authority or some other divine mandate. As the GAFCON folks assert, they aren't leaving the Anglican Communion, they're just redefining it and asserting their will, currently within it's structures (whatever that means). In effect they might be in the early stages of creating a new "one true" Communion that doesn't recognize the valididity of certain parts of the old Communion (i.e., the North American and other predominantly liberal churches). You already hear language here which suggests that GAFCON Anglicans should be evangelizing other Anglicans, and setting up shop where (illegitimate) churches/dioceses already exist. That's been happening in the US for quite some time, under the monikers Anglican Mission in America and CANA.
It remains to be seen what this will mean pragmatically, and how many will actually side with the GAFCON folks. The Communion is a very mixed bag already, and it isn't clear how many people and dioceses GAFCON actually represents--though it is probably clear that they don't represent as many as they claim. That said, it's a significant (and growing?) group of people who are disillusioned with traditional Anglican structures. At the least it represents a significant swipe at the inclusive Anglican ethos that I've appreciated, and at the worst it's the beginning stage of a formal schism.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Back and Forth
I've not been in the blogging mood lately...
My life during the last three years has been a constant nervous mess as I've gone back and forth on discernment, and I'm as sick (and increasingly bored) of going through it as you are of reading about it.
For an update in the process though, I've realized that I'm finally at peace about whatever happens with ordination. For the last month I've been thinking that I'd rather not deal with the cost that comes along with ordination, and now I'm back around to thinking it might be worth it. In any case, what happens happens.
I've decided that I'm going to be honest regardless. Generally the priest's role has involved a lot of pious lie-telling, and I'm going to avoid that--even if it means I won't be ordained. We'll see how that plays out with the community, but if I'm going to be a priest, I'd like to at least be an honest priest.
So, from here out, to hell with trying to convince people that I measure up, and to hell with pretending I'm a Christian in a sense that I'm really not.
My life during the last three years has been a constant nervous mess as I've gone back and forth on discernment, and I'm as sick (and increasingly bored) of going through it as you are of reading about it.
For an update in the process though, I've realized that I'm finally at peace about whatever happens with ordination. For the last month I've been thinking that I'd rather not deal with the cost that comes along with ordination, and now I'm back around to thinking it might be worth it. In any case, what happens happens.
I've decided that I'm going to be honest regardless. Generally the priest's role has involved a lot of pious lie-telling, and I'm going to avoid that--even if it means I won't be ordained. We'll see how that plays out with the community, but if I'm going to be a priest, I'd like to at least be an honest priest.
So, from here out, to hell with trying to convince people that I measure up, and to hell with pretending I'm a Christian in a sense that I'm really not.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Capitol Hill Religion: For the Jew, the Italian and the Red Head Gay
Last week, I put up this post about religion on Capitol Hill in Seattle, hinting that I'd be posting again about what I think religion should look like here. Having thought about it a bit, I've come to realize that that whole endeavor is a little bit silly. Capitol Hill is a sampler platter of culture, and religion is really just culture that's been sanctified by magic hands and holy potlucks.
The fact is that I'm glad that there are a bunch of different groups that have organized the varieties of religious experience on the hill, and it's stupid to try to distill that into one "should" of religion here. That might be obvious to some, but honestly I think that ultimately that's what a lot of religious leader types aim for--at least those coming from a Christian perspective, which I can speak for somewhat authoritatively. As an individual, at best I think what you can say about the "should" of religion on Capitol Hill is that you have to hold to it pretty loosely. You have to approach things from a generally pluralist perspective if you want to be able to stay sane in a culture that is as mix and match as this one. It's not surprising that you meet a lot of cafeteria religion types around here. For faith communities, my guess is that the best you can do is try to fill a niche. The Hill for Jesus is great, as long as you don't mean the whole Hill.
As a member of a religious community, this is a difficult tension to keep. I'm a St. Mark's Episcopalian, and despite my aspirations to religious leadership, I'm generally personally non-committal on religious suggestions that go beyond "be good" and "love people". However, I've also got an interest in seeing my community continue to survive and thrive, and that sort of saccharine religiosity generally doesn't go far enough to be appealing. We're a healthy community in terms of population and resources, but we have to figure out how to continue to be so. Because there just aren't very many Episcopalians out there anymore, it's not exactly clear how to do that. Being reflective of the culture is important, and we've done that pretty well in adopting an aggressive position on social justice issues and inter-religious dialogue and cooperation. My feeling is that people on the Hill, in all of their diversity, have a generally positive view of the St. Mark's community, which is a good thing I suppose. (See The Stranger review of their worship here: It's number 29.) We've also been aggressively gay-friendly, which goes a long way in our neighborhood. Despite it's recent troubles, St. Mark's is actually probably in a more stable position than any other church in the city besides Mars Hill. Go figure.
(On MTV's old show The State, there was a sketch called "The Jew, the Italian and the Red Head Gay" which I was going to use to preface this post. However, apparently they haven't finished putting everything that has ever happened up on the internet, so I couldn't find video. Here's the script though. Thanks for the transcription whoever's site this is)
The Jew, The Italian, and The Red Head Gay
David (Jew), Ken (Italian) and Kevin (Red head Gay): The Jew, the Italian and the Red Head Gay, we all live together on Avenue A, we have zany adventures from day to day.
David: The Jew!
Ken: The Italian!
Kevin: And the Red Head Gay!
David: Come on Ken, it's the end of the month. We need the money for the rent, where's the money?
Ken: Oh, I'm sorry Dave, I spent it all on pasta. I'm gonna make a big tomato sauce.
Kevin: Oh, I would help you with that Ken, but I'm busy picking out these pretty curtain patterns for the apartment.
David: Fine, I'm gonna go get some bagels, I guess.
Kevin: Okay. Toodleoo schnookums!
Ken: All right Dave, Ariverderchi!
Ken, David, and Kevin: The Jew, the Italian and the Red Head Gay, we all live together on Avenue A, we each see the world in our own way.
David: The Jew!
Ken: The Italian!
Gay: And the Red--Head--ha--Gaaaaaaaaaay!!!
(great 70's disco music)
Whole Cast in ridiculous costumes: The Red Head Gaaaay, the red head gaaaay, the red head gaaaaaay. The red head gay!
The fact is that I'm glad that there are a bunch of different groups that have organized the varieties of religious experience on the hill, and it's stupid to try to distill that into one "should" of religion here. That might be obvious to some, but honestly I think that ultimately that's what a lot of religious leader types aim for--at least those coming from a Christian perspective, which I can speak for somewhat authoritatively. As an individual, at best I think what you can say about the "should" of religion on Capitol Hill is that you have to hold to it pretty loosely. You have to approach things from a generally pluralist perspective if you want to be able to stay sane in a culture that is as mix and match as this one. It's not surprising that you meet a lot of cafeteria religion types around here. For faith communities, my guess is that the best you can do is try to fill a niche. The Hill for Jesus is great, as long as you don't mean the whole Hill.
As a member of a religious community, this is a difficult tension to keep. I'm a St. Mark's Episcopalian, and despite my aspirations to religious leadership, I'm generally personally non-committal on religious suggestions that go beyond "be good" and "love people". However, I've also got an interest in seeing my community continue to survive and thrive, and that sort of saccharine religiosity generally doesn't go far enough to be appealing. We're a healthy community in terms of population and resources, but we have to figure out how to continue to be so. Because there just aren't very many Episcopalians out there anymore, it's not exactly clear how to do that. Being reflective of the culture is important, and we've done that pretty well in adopting an aggressive position on social justice issues and inter-religious dialogue and cooperation. My feeling is that people on the Hill, in all of their diversity, have a generally positive view of the St. Mark's community, which is a good thing I suppose. (See The Stranger review of their worship here: It's number 29.) We've also been aggressively gay-friendly, which goes a long way in our neighborhood. Despite it's recent troubles, St. Mark's is actually probably in a more stable position than any other church in the city besides Mars Hill. Go figure.
(On MTV's old show The State, there was a sketch called "The Jew, the Italian and the Red Head Gay" which I was going to use to preface this post. However, apparently they haven't finished putting everything that has ever happened up on the internet, so I couldn't find video. Here's the script though. Thanks for the transcription whoever's site this is)
The Jew, The Italian, and The Red Head Gay
David (Jew), Ken (Italian) and Kevin (Red head Gay): The Jew, the Italian and the Red Head Gay, we all live together on Avenue A, we have zany adventures from day to day.
David: The Jew!
Ken: The Italian!
Kevin: And the Red Head Gay!
David: Come on Ken, it's the end of the month. We need the money for the rent, where's the money?
Ken: Oh, I'm sorry Dave, I spent it all on pasta. I'm gonna make a big tomato sauce.
Kevin: Oh, I would help you with that Ken, but I'm busy picking out these pretty curtain patterns for the apartment.
David: Fine, I'm gonna go get some bagels, I guess.
Kevin: Okay. Toodleoo schnookums!
Ken: All right Dave, Ariverderchi!
Ken, David, and Kevin: The Jew, the Italian and the Red Head Gay, we all live together on Avenue A, we each see the world in our own way.
David: The Jew!
Ken: The Italian!
Gay: And the Red--Head--ha--Gaaaaaaaaaay!!!
(great 70's disco music)
Whole Cast in ridiculous costumes: The Red Head Gaaaay, the red head gaaaay, the red head gaaaaaay. The red head gay!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Religion on Capitol Hill
As disciplined as I've been in obsessing about religion and where I want to live, I was dismayed today when I took stock of how little time I've actually spent obsessing about religion in the place where I do live, on Capitol Hill in Seattle. I've decided to begin rectifying that situation, and made that topic the subject of consideration for today's afternoon constitutional.
Capitol Hill is a convergence zone for a bazillion people groups, so it's no surprise that even after three years I find it a hard place to characterize religiously. The most visible religious building and community is undoubtedly St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral, which is the center of worship for a subset of the local community that can be fairly labeled as almost uniformly white, of the upper classes, and liberal (though being of that subset, many there would be upset that I pointed that out). It's also probably fair to say that St. Mark's is the epicenter for GLBTQ Christianity in the city as a whole, having had a prominent and active gay dean and an "open and affirming" policy for years.
It would be wrong to say that St. Mark's characterizes religion on Capitol Hill though, because it really is a mixed bag. There's a large Catholic population here along with the Episcopalians, but I think the Hill is most clearly a "spiritual" place, and non-traditionally religious. There are lots of yoga studios and such, and the grocery stores sell magazines like Tikkun and Tricycle. Having a large white liberal population, there's also a visible Cult of the Sunday Morning New York Times. The prominent hipster population here was probably best served by the now closed Coffee Messiah, which was only religious in an overly-defensive and self-consciously ironic sense. There are several Black churches within a few blocks of my house, but my feeling is that those really belong more to the adjacent and historically African-American Central District than Capitol Hill proper (although, again, the white liberals would be defensive about that, wanting to make sure you know that we live in a diverse neighborhood). There are regularly Evangelical groups that try to "Win the Hill for Jesus", but the evidence seems to suggest that it's not working. (Apparently one of those used to meet in a Pizza parlor right down the road from us--Piecora's.) Actually, there are a smattering of traditional WASPy churches around, but most of them have dwindling congregations and some are closing up shop. There is an old Christian Scientist Church building just down the road from us that is being turned into Condos, and it's close to an old Methodist Church that is now business offices. Now that the Christian Scientists are gone, the most unlikely church left on the Hill, if you ask me, is Volunteer Park Seventh Day Adventist Church. I really don't know where their congregation comes from. There's a cool looking Greek Orthodox Church called Church of the Assumption, but I don't know how anything about their congregation either. I haven't run into anyone who I knew was Greek Orthodox, but they tend to be stealthy. Apparently, there are no more Jews on Capitol Hill--or, well, no synagogues, though there is one close by on First Hill. I've seen Buddhist monks walking down Broadway, but don't know if there are any temples around. I guess my expert opinion would be that Capitol Hill is a ultimately a pretty decent microcosm of the religious diversity of the US as a whole. Its nucleus is comprised of disinterested agnostics and miscellaneous (though unusually liberal) Christians, with lots of fringe groups floating around the edges.
If you're wondering why I'm telling you all of this, it's because along with the thousand other things I might do in the next few years, I might be working here on the Hill on some sort of Episcopal missional front. (Yes, Wesley, I am confused.) With that in mind, I've probably got another post forthcoming, on what I think religion should look like on Capitol Hill...
Monday, April 21, 2008
Maybe I'll be a Deacon for the Whore of Babylon?
Along with being occupied with about fifty work commitments this weekend, including a major fundraising concert at Multifaith Works and Youth Sunday at St. Margaret's, I've been doing some interesting reading. About five years ago, my dad's dad lent me this old book that I've finally opened up, audaciously titled "Birth of a Reformation" about the founding of the denomination I grew up in, The Church of God (Anderson). Our founder was one D.S. Warner, an itinerant preacher who got kicked out of the "Winebrennerian" sect (also called the Church of God) because of his view that Christians can--and should--be entirely sanctified and free of sin. He subsequently denounced the Winebrennerians, and all other members of all other churches, and tried to start a non-sectarian Church by going into congregations and exhorting members to leave their Babylonian, Satan inspired organizations behind to worship with him. The turning point for him happened on April 9, 1878, when he wrote in his diary:
"The Lord blessed me and greatly awakened my own mind and I think opened the eyes of others to the importance of abandoning all human and party creeds, party names, party spirit, and party interests in order to maintain a life of perfect holiness, as well as to the duty of returning to the "faith once delivered to the saints" in its entirety."
The movement took off, at least a little, and 150 years later it's a (non-denominational) denomination with about a million members around the world, though it still has no official membership. Charles Schultz of Peanuts fame and Bill Gaither of awful Southern Gospel Music fame are the only two COGAites whose names you probably recognize, though I think saccharine Christian singer Steven Curtis Chapman also was a (non) member at one point. My family goes back with the movement about as far as you can: my great-grandparents on both sides were part of it, my Grandma's dad was ordained in it, and all of us kids were raised in it, though my generation and my parents' generation have generally crept away from it.
For those of you who've followed my postings for any amount of time, you might be interested to know that this is the (non) denomination that I grew up in, as I have since embraced the second most Babylonian denomination of them all (after the Catholics) in the Anglican communion. The interesting part about reading this book for me has been that it's helped me to identify some of the roots of my complaints about the Episcopal Church, where I still find myself sitting a little uneasily. In fact, I'm surprised by how much I identify with Warner's worries about membership in any religious sect, though my cultural situation is quite different from his, and though I'm not yet as sold as he was on phrenology. How very American-individualist of me, but I'm inclined to agree with his suggestion that "To join a sectarian denomination is never by divine prompting, but is urged from human source". I would agree, in fact, that I'm an Anglican due to pragmatic (though also spiritual) expediency rather than a strong sense of "divine calling" to the denomination. I'm here because I feel like I need to be somewhere, and this will do.
Something that's certainly affecting the way I'm reading this is that I've been going through another cycle of questioning whether I really want to marry the Episcopal Church and become a priest. I'm just still not sure that the benefits of the priesthood outweigh the costs, or even that I really want to spend my life playing the role that a priest does. I don't know that I want to embed myself that deeply in the church community (and hence cut myself off that completely from the non-church community) , or put myself in the situation where I'm dependent upon the church for income (to pay off the ridiculous student loans that I will accrue if I go to seminary, among other things). I feel like this church, like all churches, is so screwed up that I need to maintain some level of separation from it and function as a critical/prophetic voice rather than as a sanctioning voice. As a priest, that's a difficult role to play--not just b/c your livelihood depends upon keeping the church happy, but also b/c your pledged role is to be a unifier and gatherer in the community.
Which is why I'm finding myself newly enamored with the Diaconate. A Deacon's role in the Episcopal Church is basically to live in the real world, and to grab the institutional folks and shake them until they wake up to what's happening there and act accordingly. (You're also supposed to focus your time on working with the poor, the ill, and the dispossessed, which I'm totally down with.) It's an ordained position, so the bishop lays his/her magic hands on you and tells you that you're special, but not generally a paid one, and hence not generally one that I've thought about much. Now though, having realized that there are lots of other things a strapping young lad like myself can do to make money, I'm getting more and more intrigued by the possibility of freedom to exist in the real world and the church simultaneously. D.S. Warner, of course, would be disappointed with me, but honestly it's in his spirit that I'm thinking in these terms. I just can't see myself as someone who wants to sanctify the Way Things Are. I want to travel outside of the structure and challenge it as much as I want to travel inside the structure and sanction it.
(This popped up when I typed in "Deacon" on corbis.com. It's a picture of Queen.)
This is what you say you'll do as a Deacon, and I find that I'm pretty comfortable with it--probably more comfortable than I presently am with the promises you make as a priest:
"My brother, every Christian is called to follow Jesus Christ,
serving God the Father, through the power of the Holy Spirit.
God now calls you to a special ministry of servanthood
directly under your bishop. In the name of Jesus Christ, you
are to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the
sick, and the lonely.
"The Lord blessed me and greatly awakened my own mind and I think opened the eyes of others to the importance of abandoning all human and party creeds, party names, party spirit, and party interests in order to maintain a life of perfect holiness, as well as to the duty of returning to the "faith once delivered to the saints" in its entirety."
The movement took off, at least a little, and 150 years later it's a (non-denominational) denomination with about a million members around the world, though it still has no official membership. Charles Schultz of Peanuts fame and Bill Gaither of awful Southern Gospel Music fame are the only two COGAites whose names you probably recognize, though I think saccharine Christian singer Steven Curtis Chapman also was a (non) member at one point. My family goes back with the movement about as far as you can: my great-grandparents on both sides were part of it, my Grandma's dad was ordained in it, and all of us kids were raised in it, though my generation and my parents' generation have generally crept away from it.
For those of you who've followed my postings for any amount of time, you might be interested to know that this is the (non) denomination that I grew up in, as I have since embraced the second most Babylonian denomination of them all (after the Catholics) in the Anglican communion. The interesting part about reading this book for me has been that it's helped me to identify some of the roots of my complaints about the Episcopal Church, where I still find myself sitting a little uneasily. In fact, I'm surprised by how much I identify with Warner's worries about membership in any religious sect, though my cultural situation is quite different from his, and though I'm not yet as sold as he was on phrenology. How very American-individualist of me, but I'm inclined to agree with his suggestion that "To join a sectarian denomination is never by divine prompting, but is urged from human source". I would agree, in fact, that I'm an Anglican due to pragmatic (though also spiritual) expediency rather than a strong sense of "divine calling" to the denomination. I'm here because I feel like I need to be somewhere, and this will do.
Something that's certainly affecting the way I'm reading this is that I've been going through another cycle of questioning whether I really want to marry the Episcopal Church and become a priest. I'm just still not sure that the benefits of the priesthood outweigh the costs, or even that I really want to spend my life playing the role that a priest does. I don't know that I want to embed myself that deeply in the church community (and hence cut myself off that completely from the non-church community) , or put myself in the situation where I'm dependent upon the church for income (to pay off the ridiculous student loans that I will accrue if I go to seminary, among other things). I feel like this church, like all churches, is so screwed up that I need to maintain some level of separation from it and function as a critical/prophetic voice rather than as a sanctioning voice. As a priest, that's a difficult role to play--not just b/c your livelihood depends upon keeping the church happy, but also b/c your pledged role is to be a unifier and gatherer in the community.
Which is why I'm finding myself newly enamored with the Diaconate. A Deacon's role in the Episcopal Church is basically to live in the real world, and to grab the institutional folks and shake them until they wake up to what's happening there and act accordingly. (You're also supposed to focus your time on working with the poor, the ill, and the dispossessed, which I'm totally down with.) It's an ordained position, so the bishop lays his/her magic hands on you and tells you that you're special, but not generally a paid one, and hence not generally one that I've thought about much. Now though, having realized that there are lots of other things a strapping young lad like myself can do to make money, I'm getting more and more intrigued by the possibility of freedom to exist in the real world and the church simultaneously. D.S. Warner, of course, would be disappointed with me, but honestly it's in his spirit that I'm thinking in these terms. I just can't see myself as someone who wants to sanctify the Way Things Are. I want to travel outside of the structure and challenge it as much as I want to travel inside the structure and sanction it.
(This popped up when I typed in "Deacon" on corbis.com. It's a picture of Queen.)
This is what you say you'll do as a Deacon, and I find that I'm pretty comfortable with it--probably more comfortable than I presently am with the promises you make as a priest:
"My brother, every Christian is called to follow Jesus Christ,
serving God the Father, through the power of the Holy Spirit.
God now calls you to a special ministry of servanthood
directly under your bishop. In the name of Jesus Christ, you
are to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the
sick, and the lonely.
As a deacon in the Church, you are to study the Holy
Scriptures, to seek nourishment from them, and to model
your life upon them. You are to make Christ and his
redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those
among whom you live, and work, and worship. You are to
interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the
world. You are to assist the bishop and priests in public
worship and in the ministration of God's Word and
Sacraments, and you are to carry out other duties assigned to
you from time to time. At all times, your life and teaching are
to show Christ's people that in serving the helpless they are
serving Christ himself."
Monday, April 7, 2008
Mustard Seeds in the 'burbs
For my second "Mustard Seed" post of the day, I'll briefly submit for your consideration St. Margaret's Episcopal Church in Bellevue, WA, where I am employed as the bumbling youth minister. Contra most images of the emerging church, we are an established congregation in a wealthy suburb, with a healthy mix of grey hair, boomers, young families and a youth group. We don't have high tech presentations in our services, and not many people would self-identify as post-modern. We're certainly not part of an identifiable movement, and not many conversations. Our sanctuary-style I like to describe as "Pottery Barn", and lots of our congregants drive SUVs (with a few scattered Priuses).
However, in the year and a half I've worked there, I've come to realize that many of the trends in Anglimergence are also trends at St. Margaret's. We're self-consciously missional and trying to figure out what that looks like in our happy little suburb. We recently began the process of attempting to sell off a chunk of our land for the construction of low-income housing (of which almost none exists in Bellevue), we have an established thrift store that gives away $25-30K to mission every six months, and our maintenance guy (actually a 'Sexton' in Episcopal terms), not a Christian but one who spells God "Nature" with a capital N, and I recently began a series whose aim is to determine how we should live responsibly and missionally in the midst of an environmental crisis. Every Wednesday, we open our doors to youth from the school across the street, provide them with a place to hangout, and feed them junkfood and energy drinks as a service to the local community. (Props to Buzz Matthews, my predecessor, white rapper and by all accounts genius youth minister, for establishing that one.) Our senior warden and others are attending mission conferences and thinking outside the box about ways we can be the church in Bellevue. We're renting out our building to community organizations, teaming with interdenominational congregations, and reaching out to our community on a regular basis. I'm not sure how it happened, but all of these old folks and boomers drifted in an emergent direction without even having a pastor with cool postmodern crap. In five years, I won't be surprised if they have established a monastic community on the property, right next to Target and Old Navy. I personally am trying to figure out what it means to be a youth minister in this context--having some success and lots of failure, but generally appreciating the gift of employment and freedom that St. Margaret's has given.
St. Margaret's is, honestly, the primary reason that I'm skeptical about all the suggestions that traditional and institutional churches are hopeless, and that we have to establish something new. History is a story of cultural drift, with only the occasional revolution. St. Marg's is evidence that cultural drift is still happening, and that institutions can transform rather rapidly to meet a changing set of circumstances--even when twenty-something leaders aren't given full reign. It's one of the key reasons that I'm committed to working in a missional direction in the institutional church, and evidence that established churches can use their significant resources to move in innovative directions.
However, in the year and a half I've worked there, I've come to realize that many of the trends in Anglimergence are also trends at St. Margaret's. We're self-consciously missional and trying to figure out what that looks like in our happy little suburb. We recently began the process of attempting to sell off a chunk of our land for the construction of low-income housing (of which almost none exists in Bellevue), we have an established thrift store that gives away $25-30K to mission every six months, and our maintenance guy (actually a 'Sexton' in Episcopal terms), not a Christian but one who spells God "Nature" with a capital N, and I recently began a series whose aim is to determine how we should live responsibly and missionally in the midst of an environmental crisis. Every Wednesday, we open our doors to youth from the school across the street, provide them with a place to hangout, and feed them junkfood and energy drinks as a service to the local community. (Props to Buzz Matthews, my predecessor, white rapper and by all accounts genius youth minister, for establishing that one.) Our senior warden and others are attending mission conferences and thinking outside the box about ways we can be the church in Bellevue. We're renting out our building to community organizations, teaming with interdenominational congregations, and reaching out to our community on a regular basis. I'm not sure how it happened, but all of these old folks and boomers drifted in an emergent direction without even having a pastor with cool postmodern crap. In five years, I won't be surprised if they have established a monastic community on the property, right next to Target and Old Navy. I personally am trying to figure out what it means to be a youth minister in this context--having some success and lots of failure, but generally appreciating the gift of employment and freedom that St. Margaret's has given.
St. Margaret's is, honestly, the primary reason that I'm skeptical about all the suggestions that traditional and institutional churches are hopeless, and that we have to establish something new. History is a story of cultural drift, with only the occasional revolution. St. Marg's is evidence that cultural drift is still happening, and that institutions can transform rather rapidly to meet a changing set of circumstances--even when twenty-something leaders aren't given full reign. It's one of the key reasons that I'm committed to working in a missional direction in the institutional church, and evidence that established churches can use their significant resources to move in innovative directions.
Multifaith and Mustard Seeds
I know, it's not tomorrow anymore. Nevermind that.
I'm just finishing up Tom Sine's "The New Conspirators", which is presently the book to read for trendy emerging church types. It's all about Mustard Seeds, "streams", new monastics, networks, alternative approaches to church, postmodern ministry and so forth. I of course like it quite a bit. In that spirit, I've been wanting to post on a few mustard seed/salt of the earth-type places that I've been involved with for a while, and today, while I'm eating leftover spaghetti for lunch, I shall, because I think these are places that my 12 readers might like to know about. (Although I should be doing other things, like getting work done for said places...)
First off, I spend about half of my working life entering data into a computer, providing volunteer support, and trying to avoid social faux pas at an organization in Seattle called Multifaith Works. The organization does work with folks struggling with MS, HIV/AIDS, substance abuse recovery, and the associated isolation that comes along with those. A huge number of the people in our client base, and the majority of our staff, come from social backgrounds about which I as a straight white Christian country boy from Ohio know little to nothing--the GLBTQ community primarily, as well as the African-American and Hispanic immigrant communities, people in recovery, and of course the poor to working class. Almost every day I imagine that I say or do something stupid or offensive to or about one of those people groups, but what do you do?! I'm trying my best. Luckily they're nice and forgiving people.
The thing that I have going for me is that the bulk of our volunteers are more like myself than our clients. My program (The AIDS Careteam Program) organizes volunteers--historically primarily recruited from faith communities of various persuasions, and generally from outside the predominant communities that you associate with the disease--into teams to be partnered with individuals living with isolation and HIV/AIDS, to do the things that friends and family would and should do--that is, helping them out with day to day tasks, and generally getting to know them.
While I've only been working there for a few months, I've been a volunteer with the organization for about two and a half years and I've long felt that this group of people--from a variety of faith backgrounds--is doing what churches should be doing: very concertedly building community with the people who are marginalized in our culture--with no strings attached. Essentially, our program's job is to help people make friends with people who others have abandoned. I just love that. The great thing is that the experience is truly transformative: volunteers usually come in wary and anxious about meeting people they normally wouldn't associate with, and quickly become friends with them. Clients (partners is what we actually call them, because they aren't really clients) usually come in isolated, and often wary of the judgmental attitudes of religious-folk, but often find that these become their closest relationships. This isn't church building: we are a non-denominational 'secular' organization, and we're very explicit that religious 'conversion' is not our goal--its not even allowed. As such, I doubt that any church, mosque, synagogue or coven has picked up pledge money as a result of their congregants' volunteering, though some partners do discover through the experience that not all religious folks are judgmental hypocrites and eventually end up connecting with faith communities. At the same time, religious (and healthy) types discover that you don't have to be financially productive, straight and healthy to be a worthwhile person. For me, it is ironic and undeniable that what happens is the heart of what church building should be about--that is, it's an establishing of loving and trusting relationship, where people learn important truths about life, and the formation of community where there was none before. A finding of God in an organization and in other people, if you want to use those terms.
As we think about what church--especially progressive church--might look like in the 21st century, I would put forward the Careteam model as an example. It's non-creedal (if you like that sort of thing), communal, networked, completely organic, driven by a very specific mission, and culturally transformative from the bottom up. It's generally low-cost and self-supporting, open to a variety of positions, practically useful, and rapidly changeable. And in essence, it's organized around the belief that service to the poor, sick and marginalized is the highest good. Sounds a lot like the early Church to me...
I'm just finishing up Tom Sine's "The New Conspirators", which is presently the book to read for trendy emerging church types. It's all about Mustard Seeds, "streams", new monastics, networks, alternative approaches to church, postmodern ministry and so forth. I of course like it quite a bit. In that spirit, I've been wanting to post on a few mustard seed/salt of the earth-type places that I've been involved with for a while, and today, while I'm eating leftover spaghetti for lunch, I shall, because I think these are places that my 12 readers might like to know about. (Although I should be doing other things, like getting work done for said places...)
First off, I spend about half of my working life entering data into a computer, providing volunteer support, and trying to avoid social faux pas at an organization in Seattle called Multifaith Works. The organization does work with folks struggling with MS, HIV/AIDS, substance abuse recovery, and the associated isolation that comes along with those. A huge number of the people in our client base, and the majority of our staff, come from social backgrounds about which I as a straight white Christian country boy from Ohio know little to nothing--the GLBTQ community primarily, as well as the African-American and Hispanic immigrant communities, people in recovery, and of course the poor to working class. Almost every day I imagine that I say or do something stupid or offensive to or about one of those people groups, but what do you do?! I'm trying my best. Luckily they're nice and forgiving people.
The thing that I have going for me is that the bulk of our volunteers are more like myself than our clients. My program (The AIDS Careteam Program) organizes volunteers--historically primarily recruited from faith communities of various persuasions, and generally from outside the predominant communities that you associate with the disease--into teams to be partnered with individuals living with isolation and HIV/AIDS, to do the things that friends and family would and should do--that is, helping them out with day to day tasks, and generally getting to know them.
While I've only been working there for a few months, I've been a volunteer with the organization for about two and a half years and I've long felt that this group of people--from a variety of faith backgrounds--is doing what churches should be doing: very concertedly building community with the people who are marginalized in our culture--with no strings attached. Essentially, our program's job is to help people make friends with people who others have abandoned. I just love that. The great thing is that the experience is truly transformative: volunteers usually come in wary and anxious about meeting people they normally wouldn't associate with, and quickly become friends with them. Clients (partners is what we actually call them, because they aren't really clients) usually come in isolated, and often wary of the judgmental attitudes of religious-folk, but often find that these become their closest relationships. This isn't church building: we are a non-denominational 'secular' organization, and we're very explicit that religious 'conversion' is not our goal--its not even allowed. As such, I doubt that any church, mosque, synagogue or coven has picked up pledge money as a result of their congregants' volunteering, though some partners do discover through the experience that not all religious folks are judgmental hypocrites and eventually end up connecting with faith communities. At the same time, religious (and healthy) types discover that you don't have to be financially productive, straight and healthy to be a worthwhile person. For me, it is ironic and undeniable that what happens is the heart of what church building should be about--that is, it's an establishing of loving and trusting relationship, where people learn important truths about life, and the formation of community where there was none before. A finding of God in an organization and in other people, if you want to use those terms.
As we think about what church--especially progressive church--might look like in the 21st century, I would put forward the Careteam model as an example. It's non-creedal (if you like that sort of thing), communal, networked, completely organic, driven by a very specific mission, and culturally transformative from the bottom up. It's generally low-cost and self-supporting, open to a variety of positions, practically useful, and rapidly changeable. And in essence, it's organized around the belief that service to the poor, sick and marginalized is the highest good. Sounds a lot like the early Church to me...
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Action at St. Mark's...
Well, for those following the goings on at St. Mark's Cathedral in Seattle, the home of my discernment process and ongoing drama, the Dean, Robert Taylor, officially resigned yesterday. (For those who haven't been tracking, there's been a rocky relationship between Robert and the community for about a year to a year and a half, focusing around money, the Dean's leadership style, several staff firings last year, and conflicting visions of what the community should be about.) I just reviewed all of the material on the website about the separation, and I'm coming away from the whole experience with mixed--though not intense--emotions.
My basic feeling as a parishioner is that this stage has probably ended as gracefully as it could have. I'm a little disappointed that the Dean didn't have a go at the first recommendation of the Donovan Report (that is, the recommendation to take some time away from the community and see if things can be worked out), but I respect the decision that was made. I also have to admit that I'm generally happy to be part of church hierarchy in this particular situation, because the guidance of Bishops has contributed significantly to this being worked out in a way that wasn't (apparently?) horribly ugly. On the other side of things of course, a lot of the problems had to do with the way we structure our hierarchy, and the power given to the vestry and the Dean. From reading the material, and from experiencing the situation, my feeling is that there has been a level of disconnect between the congregation and the leadership, which is to some degree fostered by our church structure. It's a question whether structural/cultural issues will be addressed now that Robert has resigned. It's a savvy congregation, so I hope so, but we Episcopalians aren't particularly flexible when it comes to changing our structures. Color me conflicted.
I'm also sad to see Robert go, especially on a generally bad note. He's a person who I have deep respect for on a lot of levels. He has flaws, and as the Donovan report points out, those flaws ultimately contributed to this hubbub, but he's also a religious genius on a lot of levels and has lived a life worthy of a positive wikipedia entry. My uneducated feeling is that the problem has been as much about vestry and the community's structure as it has been Robert, but he'll be the one who has to face the most negative consequences on this one.
All in all, I think think that the report material does a good job of diffusing the sense of the dramatic in the situation. In minister resignations, everyone loves when there is gross moral misconduct, sex, murder, etc., but in this case that hasn't happened. Some people have been mad enough to act like it has, but some people get too mad too easily. There have been a lot of people who have understandably left the community, but my feeling is that the congregation is on relatively solid ground. This one probably won't light up the blogosphere too much, except maybe with those who recognize the significance of Robert's leadership in the gay religious community. Consequently, despite the significance of what's happened in this, my parish church, I'm not that inspired to write a long blog on this. It's been a long time coming, it's been handled well, and I just spent the weekend with 60 teenagers.
My basic feeling as a parishioner is that this stage has probably ended as gracefully as it could have. I'm a little disappointed that the Dean didn't have a go at the first recommendation of the Donovan Report (that is, the recommendation to take some time away from the community and see if things can be worked out), but I respect the decision that was made. I also have to admit that I'm generally happy to be part of church hierarchy in this particular situation, because the guidance of Bishops has contributed significantly to this being worked out in a way that wasn't (apparently?) horribly ugly. On the other side of things of course, a lot of the problems had to do with the way we structure our hierarchy, and the power given to the vestry and the Dean. From reading the material, and from experiencing the situation, my feeling is that there has been a level of disconnect between the congregation and the leadership, which is to some degree fostered by our church structure. It's a question whether structural/cultural issues will be addressed now that Robert has resigned. It's a savvy congregation, so I hope so, but we Episcopalians aren't particularly flexible when it comes to changing our structures. Color me conflicted.
I'm also sad to see Robert go, especially on a generally bad note. He's a person who I have deep respect for on a lot of levels. He has flaws, and as the Donovan report points out, those flaws ultimately contributed to this hubbub, but he's also a religious genius on a lot of levels and has lived a life worthy of a positive wikipedia entry. My uneducated feeling is that the problem has been as much about vestry and the community's structure as it has been Robert, but he'll be the one who has to face the most negative consequences on this one.
All in all, I think think that the report material does a good job of diffusing the sense of the dramatic in the situation. In minister resignations, everyone loves when there is gross moral misconduct, sex, murder, etc., but in this case that hasn't happened. Some people have been mad enough to act like it has, but some people get too mad too easily. There have been a lot of people who have understandably left the community, but my feeling is that the congregation is on relatively solid ground. This one probably won't light up the blogosphere too much, except maybe with those who recognize the significance of Robert's leadership in the gay religious community. Consequently, despite the significance of what's happened in this, my parish church, I'm not that inspired to write a long blog on this. It's been a long time coming, it's been handled well, and I just spent the weekend with 60 teenagers.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Easter
"Christ is risen indeed!", as we all affirmed this morning, and as Alaskans and Hawaiians are still affirming as I write.
This morning, while I was in the shower having my normal morning fret session about all of the difficult and terrible things I have to do in life, it struck me that I'm happy to be an Anglican on most Sunday mornings, and particularly around Easter. The value of church worship gatherings for me these days centers on the sense of unity that it provides with my fellow human beings. "We who are many are one body, because we all share the one bread and the one cup" essentially sums it up. Whatever its shortcomings (what about the people who don't share the bread and the cup?), the Eucharistic gathering--of which Easter is the "highest"--always functions for me as a sort of icon of solidarity with humanity, and with creation as a whole. We Anglicans keep the Eucharist where it belongs, I think, in the center of every worship service.
The catholic Anglican body too, with its international "communion" structure, always functions as a symbol of human unity for me too, and I'm reminded of that clearly on holidays when I reflect that folks in all corners of the world are going through the same rituals, saying similar words, and affirming the same inherent unity.
Tomorrow it will probably be back to bitching and moaning about our disunity--the fact that some people believe that "we who are many are one body" a little more than others, the way in which Eucharistic participation and administration is restricted in our church, and the recognition that our little physical Anglican icon of communion is breaking apart--but today I'm going to sit here, drink a beer, and bask in the memory of the warm glow of my priest's golden albs as she passed "the body of Christ, the bread of heaven", reflecting on the fact that millions of other people will be doing the same.
This morning, while I was in the shower having my normal morning fret session about all of the difficult and terrible things I have to do in life, it struck me that I'm happy to be an Anglican on most Sunday mornings, and particularly around Easter. The value of church worship gatherings for me these days centers on the sense of unity that it provides with my fellow human beings. "We who are many are one body, because we all share the one bread and the one cup" essentially sums it up. Whatever its shortcomings (what about the people who don't share the bread and the cup?), the Eucharistic gathering--of which Easter is the "highest"--always functions for me as a sort of icon of solidarity with humanity, and with creation as a whole. We Anglicans keep the Eucharist where it belongs, I think, in the center of every worship service.
The catholic Anglican body too, with its international "communion" structure, always functions as a symbol of human unity for me too, and I'm reminded of that clearly on holidays when I reflect that folks in all corners of the world are going through the same rituals, saying similar words, and affirming the same inherent unity.
Tomorrow it will probably be back to bitching and moaning about our disunity--the fact that some people believe that "we who are many are one body" a little more than others, the way in which Eucharistic participation and administration is restricted in our church, and the recognition that our little physical Anglican icon of communion is breaking apart--but today I'm going to sit here, drink a beer, and bask in the memory of the warm glow of my priest's golden albs as she passed "the body of Christ, the bread of heaven", reflecting on the fact that millions of other people will be doing the same.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Holy Time
I have to admit that a lot of times Church services don't do it for me. It's hard not to get worn down by the repetition and banality of it all. Since becoming an Anglican though, I've always enjoyed Holy Week. For those not in the know, Holy Week for Anglicans is kind of like a long passion play in several episodes, starting on Palm Sunday but particularly for me on Maundy Thursday, when you reenact the introduction of the Last Supper, and wash feet. On Friday you walk through the crucifixion and death of Jesus, venerate the cross, and don't celebrate the Eucharist. Then on Saturday, you participate again in the resurrection at Easter Vigil. Sunday morning, really, is for the folks who aren't serious about Church; it's a big group celebration--not that it isn't liturgically important as a festival of resurrection--that a lot of church folks skip for having been at Easter Vigil until late on Saturday. Holy week is a physical, intellectual and emotional experience, as liturgical worship should be. I wouldn't describe too many time periods as liminal--I usually preserve that descriptor for places I like--but Holy Week I would. In case you were wondering.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Rowan Williams on the Sacramentality of Sex
I haven't read it yet, but you can here. Happy Good Friday.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
A pragmatic Theology of Sex?
Maggi Dawn, a popular blogger in the UK linked to my Episcopalian sex post below, so I've gotten about ten times more hits than my average today. (Thanks Maggi. My secret plan worked Wes.) Which just goes to show you that Christians get all hot and bothered about sex--and especially non-traditional naughty sex!
My working life consists of a half-time youth pastor job at a local church and a half-time program coordination job at an AIDS organization. As you can imagine, sexuality in all of its various forms is a common topic of conversation in my world. As you can imagine as well, in most of those conversations the practical "rubber hits the road" (ha ha double entendre) issues surrounding sexuality tend to carry more weight than my brand of theological mumbo jumbo, or biblical injunctions about what's acceptable. It was from within this context that my original post grew, drawing on a discussion I had with the teenagers in my youth group on Valentine's Day, with the life and death consequences of the sexual act for my friends with AIDS in the back of my mind. Sex can be a sacramental giver of life in the truest sense, as the act which leads to the conception of children, and it can be a hellish--almost comically tragic--taker of life as the act which leads to the contraction of terminal disease. Or, of course, anything in between.
In that context, you might be interested to know that the High Schoolers I presented this idea to originally didn't really care that much about it. Their responses ranged from "Oh that's nice. Can we go now?" to "I still think sex is just something you do". Nothing dramatic. The Junior High kids were totally disinterested, and were more concerned with learning about what masturbation is (and who does it), and answering the basic question "what makes sex bad?". (There are so many directions you could go in answering that one...) The AIDS community? I don't know. My guess is that sex probably loses a significant amount of its luster pretty quickly once it becomes the source of your biggest problems. Does it lose its sense of sacramentality? I don't know.
And that raises a whole lot of concerns for me. I'm a hack theologian really, but I am trying to make sense of the world from a Christian perspective because I care about the impact of our beliefs on reality. I hope you like the idea of sex as sacrament, b/c I think it can provide a nice framework in which to work out a responsible sexual ethic, b/c I think it can be a good bridge between factions in the Anglican Communion, and b/c I think it's more intellectually satisfactory than the adoption of a proof-texted moral condemnation of anything but the sexual practices that were culturally acceptable two thousand years ago. The question always is though, what difference does it make? In what sense does it matter how people view sex?
The connection between belief and action is complex, but its not a directly determinative relationship: there's plenty of evidence to suggest that, for instance, abstinence only programs don't prevent the spread of disease. The belief that premarital or homosexual sex is morally wrong also doesn't generally prevent people from engaging in those activities. (A good book evaluating the statistics is Forbidden Fruit by Mark Regnerus. The fact that the Shakers have pretty much all died out suggests that some beliefs can determine behaviors though.) So this probably isn't an issue of hugely practical importance--at least in the fight against illicit teenage sexual experimentation and the spread of AIDS. People will have sex, just like they'll eat, drink, sleep and breath. The message that the church preaches certainly matters to us pragmatically from a recruiting standpoint: if we make a wrong belief a prerequisite for membership in our community, all of the reflective people will eventually figure it out and leave. Then they also might go and write books about why it's better to be an atheist and turn all of their reflective friends against us as well. I think being right also matters, in general. The Church has always been content to accept a good amount of mystery on some questions, but on issues where we have good physical, social and emotional evidence, we'd better take the time to get it right. Let's do our work and not be blatantly wrong--if only because it's better to not be blatantly wrong. (That motivation is generally what drives me most days).
Ultimately though, I have to think that all of this blustering on about sex is a little bit silly. In my opinion, our ideas about sex matter, for the most part, simply because people care about them. What say you?
My working life consists of a half-time youth pastor job at a local church and a half-time program coordination job at an AIDS organization. As you can imagine, sexuality in all of its various forms is a common topic of conversation in my world. As you can imagine as well, in most of those conversations the practical "rubber hits the road" (ha ha double entendre) issues surrounding sexuality tend to carry more weight than my brand of theological mumbo jumbo, or biblical injunctions about what's acceptable. It was from within this context that my original post grew, drawing on a discussion I had with the teenagers in my youth group on Valentine's Day, with the life and death consequences of the sexual act for my friends with AIDS in the back of my mind. Sex can be a sacramental giver of life in the truest sense, as the act which leads to the conception of children, and it can be a hellish--almost comically tragic--taker of life as the act which leads to the contraction of terminal disease. Or, of course, anything in between.
In that context, you might be interested to know that the High Schoolers I presented this idea to originally didn't really care that much about it. Their responses ranged from "Oh that's nice. Can we go now?" to "I still think sex is just something you do". Nothing dramatic. The Junior High kids were totally disinterested, and were more concerned with learning about what masturbation is (and who does it), and answering the basic question "what makes sex bad?". (There are so many directions you could go in answering that one...) The AIDS community? I don't know. My guess is that sex probably loses a significant amount of its luster pretty quickly once it becomes the source of your biggest problems. Does it lose its sense of sacramentality? I don't know.
And that raises a whole lot of concerns for me. I'm a hack theologian really, but I am trying to make sense of the world from a Christian perspective because I care about the impact of our beliefs on reality. I hope you like the idea of sex as sacrament, b/c I think it can provide a nice framework in which to work out a responsible sexual ethic, b/c I think it can be a good bridge between factions in the Anglican Communion, and b/c I think it's more intellectually satisfactory than the adoption of a proof-texted moral condemnation of anything but the sexual practices that were culturally acceptable two thousand years ago. The question always is though, what difference does it make? In what sense does it matter how people view sex?
The connection between belief and action is complex, but its not a directly determinative relationship: there's plenty of evidence to suggest that, for instance, abstinence only programs don't prevent the spread of disease. The belief that premarital or homosexual sex is morally wrong also doesn't generally prevent people from engaging in those activities. (A good book evaluating the statistics is Forbidden Fruit by Mark Regnerus. The fact that the Shakers have pretty much all died out suggests that some beliefs can determine behaviors though.) So this probably isn't an issue of hugely practical importance--at least in the fight against illicit teenage sexual experimentation and the spread of AIDS. People will have sex, just like they'll eat, drink, sleep and breath. The message that the church preaches certainly matters to us pragmatically from a recruiting standpoint: if we make a wrong belief a prerequisite for membership in our community, all of the reflective people will eventually figure it out and leave. Then they also might go and write books about why it's better to be an atheist and turn all of their reflective friends against us as well. I think being right also matters, in general. The Church has always been content to accept a good amount of mystery on some questions, but on issues where we have good physical, social and emotional evidence, we'd better take the time to get it right. Let's do our work and not be blatantly wrong--if only because it's better to not be blatantly wrong. (That motivation is generally what drives me most days).
Ultimately though, I have to think that all of this blustering on about sex is a little bit silly. In my opinion, our ideas about sex matter, for the most part, simply because people care about them. What say you?
Friday, March 14, 2008
Hey, I met this guy in New Zealand too!
One of the first things he said to me was that he didn't trust Asbury grads! (I was a little offended at the time, but now I understand his reasoning.) One of the other first things he said was that one of his early Methodist Bishops told him he'd be sitting in his seat some day. I guess he has pretty good judgement over all. (He's the one in the pretty cape next to the Prince).
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