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.

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.

The Beginnings of an Episcopal Theology of Sex

The Episcopal Church in particular and the Anglican Communion in general have in recent years functioned effectively as theologically progressive institutions, allowing space for a wide variety of Christian belief systems to develop within their walls. However, my observation is that this isn't because we're particularly good at doing progressive theology. Focusing specifically on the subject of sexuality, the Episcopal Church has functioned as a trailblazer in its acceptance of new practical definitions to what is acceptable sexually for Christians, but has offered little formal reason for doing so. Being the hugely influential Episcopal blogger that I am, I've decided that it's high time for me to fill the gap. The world needs me, and my church needs me, to explain how we Episcopalians can justifiably be so welcoming towards the planet's 31 flavors of sexual practices. Furthermore, it needs me to offer these remarks off the top of my head, so I don't have to do any further research, hence validating the stereotype that Episcopalians are not doing their work theologically. (My hope is that this post will generate at least one more angry anonymous rant comment--and that some will lean towards my (sexual (ha ha)) position.)

To explain a few basic facts about the way things have worked in recent Episcopal thinking on sex, the first point to understand (and I'll continue to speak in broad generalities. I hope you don't mind) is foundational, and relates to our theology in general. We do theology according to a three-legged blend of "scripture, tradition and reason", and on this particular issue, our thought isn't shaped by a rigid view of scripture or tradition--both are seen as directive rather than restrictive. They're the older generation that point us in the direction that we should head, give us a few landmarks to look for, and allow us to find our own way in the theological jungle--using, of course, our reason.

Reason plays perhaps the most important role in the present discussion. It's largely because of reason that most Episcopalians have become willing to accept homosexuality, and perhaps also some formerly unacceptable expressions of heterosexuality (pre-marital sex in some instances, divorce and remarriage, etc.), against the apparent direction of scripture and tradition. You see, in recent years, science and reason have taught us some important facts about sexuality. One is that sexual orientation is not, in almost any circumstance, a "choice" in the traditional sense--it's not something people can logically consider and then make a decision on. It is, rather, probably an expression of the interaction between biological makeup ("how God made us") and cultural upbringing, which is ultimately unavoidable (notice that I'm talking about orientation here, not behavior. Notice also that I'm, once again, talking in generalities. Quibble with the details if you want). It's just a part of who you are.

It's also important to recognize that we Episcopalians have generally--in recent years--been a compassionate people when it comes to sex: not many hard edged fundamentalists here. (Don't forget that many of our priests are Catholics who couldn't deal with the celibacy thing.) We value sex, think it's important, and don't think anyone should have to go without if they don't want to. God created sex, so we should enjoy it. In my evaluation, Episcopalians primary guideline when it comes to sex is Jesus' teaching that the most important thing in life besides loving God is to love your neighbor as yourself (no double entendre is being suggested), rather than moral injunctions from Paul or the Old Testament, or even Jesus suggestion, interpreted in a hard moral sense, that even the one who lusts commits adultery. Hence, the place where we come out is that sex is good, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, or more clearly as long as it is done in love. (That principle, though stated crudely, and often dismissed as "liberal" actually represents an expression of the Golden Rule which has complex interpretations and ramifications, none of which I'll outline here.) Many of us are old and white, so we don't generally like to talk about sex, but at the same time we don't view it as something dark or naughty (unless that's what turns you on).

When you put these two characteristics together, what you come out with is a relatively sexually permissive culture. We don't see sex as something which is leading to the decline of Western Civilization. It's part of who we are, and a basic function of what it means to be a human. It, like everything, can be abused, damaged and misused, but that doesn't mean it should have a stigma attached any more than other human traits.

This general picture is pretty clear, and I think probably as far as most casual Episcopalians go in their theology of sex. The concern, I think, is that we need to go further. We need to be able to think and talk about sex in terms that are coherent, logical and theologically consistent with our Anglican tradition. Lots of people (well, other Christian types) are mad at us about the way we've approached sex, and we need to be able to explain why we do the things we do, rather than just telling them to get off our back. (We Episcopalians can also tend to be the liberal-because-it's-cool types, who just want you to let us do our thing, and we'll let you do yours.) In my opinion, the way to go about that in the future is to develop the concept of sex as sacrament.

I haven't really done my research, so take this with a grain of salt, but my thesis is that most traditional theologies of sex have been developed, at least in part, to try to convince the unmarried (especially teenagers) that they shouldn't do it. The problem with sex has always been that it's lots of fun, and that it can get you into trouble. (That's still true today despite all of the talk of safe sex.) Being the responsible do-gooders that we are, Christians throughout the ages have said that God says "no no no", and it seems with good practical reason. Nobody likes STDs and unwanted pregnancies (except maybe folks at the big pharmaceutical companies). My position is that "no no no" simply isn't the correct answer--not now, and probably not ever. Rather, we should allow the notion that sexual activity is an "outward sign of an inward grace" (The Catholic Dictionary's definition of "Sacrament") to direct our thought and behavior.

Historically, Anglicans (aka Episcopalians in the US) have identified Baptism, Confession and absolution, Holy Matrimony, Holy Eucharist (also called Holy Communion or Mass), Confirmation, Holy Orders (also called Ordination), and Anointing of the Sick (also called Unction) as our "official" capitol S Sacraments, and may it continue to be so. However, many of us think in more broadly sacramental terms--we see God as being present in our daily lives, our physical actions, and the world around us (The Anglican theologian John Polkinghorne's Panentheism is one reflection of this trend, I would argue). Hence everything takes on a sort of "Enchantment" (See also Alister McGrath on "The Reinchantment of Nature"). Sex, when viewed through this lens, clearly stands out as an act with spiritual overtones. It's an act which produces spiritual unity between two persons, which is why it is already recognized as a key aspect of the sacrament of matrimony, and it's probably the most common and universal source of "spiritual" experience in the world. (Sorry to burst your bubble Extreme Unction.) While many Christians would have you believe that this is true only of heterosexual sex performed within marriage, let's be honest, it's not. Sex prior to marriage generally doesn't destroy your life or future. In Western cultures, the majority of people enjoy positive and healthy sexual relationships prior to marriage. Sex can be affirmed, I say, as the sacramental expression of romantic love regardless of context.

Having said this, now is the part when I'm supposed to offer a list of disclaimers and Biblical justifications, because, well, what about the children?! THE CHILDREN!! Really all I want to say in terms of a disclaimer is don't be silly. I'm not saying that sex is universally good. Sometimes it's abusive or irresponsible, sometimes it's awkward and unenjoyable, and sometimes its just mundane. None of those facts undermines the argument that sex possesses a deep spiritual significance that even Paris Hilton can't deny. And honestly, I'm going to let you argue with the Bible about what's okay (interestingly enough, my spellcheck is suggesting that I change "okay" to "Tokay" here) sexually. I just don't have the energy for that anymore. I'm of the opinion that, when you read the whole thing honestly, you'll find that the Bible paints conflicting pictures about appropriate and acceptable sexual behavior, and in any case shouldn't be used as a rule book or bludgeoning device. "Use your noggin" is my guiding principle.

Worked out, this principle functions like all principles--it doesn't give you hard and fast rules, but if you think long enough about it, you can probably come up with some guidelines for your own situation. You probably won't be able to decide what's correct in every case, but you can figure out that some sexual expressions can be universally affirmed as good and right (within the bounds of a loving, committed relationship), some sexual expressions are morally indefensible (rape, molestation, etc.), and some sexual expressions probably fall into a gray area (consensual but not responsible?). This principle leaves lots of room for flexibility, which is frustrating in some instances (particularly when you're in the mood to tell someone they're going to Hell for what they've done) but that is, after all, the nature of life.

There is, as always, lots more that could be said, but it's past my bedtime.

St. Mark's Cathedral and Mars Hill Church

I'd planned on cleaning the house right now, but I have a blog post that's been just itching to get out for several weeks now. It's no wonder that my wife hates me:

Seattle (my Seattle anyway) has two religious organizations that really matter: Mars Hill Church (denomination, hipster baptist) and St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral. (Full disclosure: my membership is at St. Mark's, and I have a lot of friends at Mars Hill.) The two places couldn't be more different, but have interestingly gone through parallel leadership crises in the last year. In both cases, two well-respected senior leaders were dismissed under the ultimate authority of the most senior leader--Mark Driscoll at Mars Hill and Robert Taylor at St. Mark's. I'm convinced that there's an interesting religious lesson in the processes and aftermaths, and I've been trying to sort out what that lesson is.

The players in the two dramas couldn't be more different--Mark's a rugged "muscular Christianity" type, and Robert is a liberal gay South African champion of the homeless. The leaders dismissed at Mars Hill were straight white male elders named Paul and Bent, while at St. Mark's they were both women--one a lesbian liturgist and the other an African-American academic who later made headlines by declaring "I am both a Christian and a Muslim". You couldn't have planned a better typecast for the liberal/conservative divide.

In both cases there was a strong congregational outcry, and some degree of media attention (a Google search will turn up what you need), as well as a general series of non-answers from Church leadership about the why's and how's of the firing processes. In both cases nothing terribly exciting or controversial has come out. To me, the disimpassioned observer, it just looks like there were probably simmering personality issues, and leaders were removed when the opportunity arose. In both cases the leaders apparently acted irresponsibly and shortsightedly in their method of dismissal, and in neither case has their been sufficient explanation given to the congregations for the firings. Interestingly, both cases have drawn up discussion about the nature and legitimacy of present church authority structures, which are relatively different between the two congregations, but which both seem to concentrate too much power at the top.

There are some intriguing differences in the way members of the congregation have responded, and the issues that have risen to the top in the processes. Again, you probably couldn't have scripted things any more stereotypically:

The Episcopalians at St. Mark's have been mad about money. The dismissals, firings, layoffs, whatever you want to call them were initially attributed to a budget shortfall: pledging was down $100k, so something had to be done, and thus leaders were removed. That was okay with some people, but when it came out soon after that Robert had also recently received a significant raise to somewhere in the range of $150-200k annually, and that the dismissed leaders were being underpaid prior to their dismissal, there was the proverbial tempest in a teacup. (Incidentally, St. Mark's didn't make their budget available to the public until after the layoffs, which is really unusual for a church, and seems generally sketchy to me.) Still, a lot of the ongoing arguments at St. Mark's are centering around money and the proper use of it.

The Baptists at Mars Hill are mad about the sinfulness of Mark's behavior. (Immediately prior to the firings, he suggested in a sermon that he'd like to punch a couple of his elders, which I think is just classic.) There's a big ongoing dialogue at The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill which generally focuses on whether or not Mark acted biblically, and whether he's a righteous individual, and whether he's allowed his ego to lead him away from promoting Jesus. Also, whether maybe it is the fired pastors who need to repent and return to Jesus.

In the end, who's handled things better? I don't know. I have much more respect for Robert than for Mark, and really see him as, at least in some ways, a sort of tragic figure in all of this. He's made some mistakes that he might not be able to dig his way out from under, and a lot of people (including me, and Ann, who I consider a mentor) were significantly hurt by the firings. However, he has done really important things for the Seattle homeless community, and the worldwide Anglican community. He's got a closed leadership style, but I think generally is a good person. (Again, full disclosure, I personally like and respect Robert, and have maintained an amiable relationship with him throughout the process.) Mark just seems like a narcissist (note--this was changed from "punk" on 2/11/08, due to further investigation). He's grown some big churches--gotten some people to heaven if you think that's how it works--but also has generally promoted arrogance and misogyny as spiritual virtues, and seems to lead like a bully. He's got a great sense of humor, and I could see having him as a buddy (at least until we got in a fight about religion, homophobia, or whatever), but don't really trust him in church leadership because he's got such an authoritarian bent. You could see this sort of thing coming at Mars Hill a mile away.

At a congregational level, it seems to me that neither group has really known how to deal with the problems coherently. The Episcopalians are calling in help from the top, and the Baptists have a revolt simmering at the bottom. There has been significant opening of communications at St. Mark's between the leadership (vestry) and the congregation, which I think has been generally positive. At Mars Hill? They dumped a huge document on the congregation explaining the bylaws and partially addressing concerns, but haven't made any real changes. In both cases, some feel reconciled to the leadership, while others have left, or are in the process of leaving.

Where's the lesson in all of this? I don't know. You can't win? Don't put people on too high of a pedestal? Liberals and conservatives both have their problems? I don't know. I would like to say that this has been less of a spiritual crisis for St. Mark's than it has been for Mars Hill, because we don't beatify our leaders, and we don't see them as a sort of direct mouthpiece of God. I'm not entirely convinced that that's true though. Certainly it's true for some, but for others this has been a real crisis of faith. Maybe it's a foundational characteristic of any type of religion to place faith in leadership, as well as in God. That, of course, is a precarious position to put oneself in. Maybe that's just a step along the stages of faith, and this sort of crisis is actually beneficial to help people stop beatifying other humans? Maybe, ultimately, disappointment is the inevitable cost of hope?

As a St. Mark's Christian, I like to think of myself as above the petty disputes of the Mars Hill Christians. Of course, through all of this, I've seen that I'm not, and St. Mark's is not. Hopefully, on the Mars Hill side, they'll also see that there's "no one holy, not even one". I'm definitely going to keep arguing with the fundamentalists and the homophobes, but I guess it's good sometimes to step down off the high horse and remember that my people aren't always so perfect either. We are of course still way smarter...

How does one move from homophobe to homophile?

I've got a few minutes before I have to leave to pick Angel up from clinical, and a lot of mental detritus to clear out, so I'll post a blog from church.

As mentioned yesterday, most of the people I'll be working with at Multifaith are gay males. (It is an AIDS organization after all.) Most of the people are also religious, in some sense or another, since it is also a religious organization. At the staff retreat I went on last week, we spent most of our time getting to know each other by "telling our stories"--that is, talking about the major events of our lives that have brought us to where we are. It was a really interesting way to start off a new job (though not one I'd want to repeat, say, in the warehouse), and with such a concentrated combination of gay people, religious people, and folks in recovery of various sorts, there were a lot of intriguing and emotional conversion stories.

I told the story of my conversion from Evangelical protestantism to emerging/liberal Anglicanism, but the story I didn't tell was of my conversion from homophobe to, well, homophile. It runs parallel, and I think it probably will resonate as a sort of step by step movement from what religious people generally are (and shouldn't be) to what religious people generally aren't (but should be).

The steps generally went like this in my own personal life:

1) Buy in to teaching that the Bible is God's Word, and that God's word teaches that you shouldn't be gay. God says it, I believe it, that settles it. Please leave me alone, you gross fag. Stop looking at me in the locker room. I know what you're thinking.

2) Identify being gay with "bad people" out there--outside of my social circle--who for some reason decide to do something that I think is gross--i.e., gay sex. Think they just need Jesus. Try real hard to "love the sinner, hate the sin".

3) Become convinced in college that sexual preference is probably partially genetically influenced, and certainly not a "choice" in the normal sense of the word.

4) Come to the conclusion that, hey, we're all confronted with personal weaknesses which are frequently sinful. By the accident of genetics, I like the ladies (which is of course sinful outside of legal western marriage), some like the men. Thus, genetics doesn't make doing gay things (gay sex, lisping, eating lots and lots of really chocolatey things) any less sinful--or gross in my hetero small town Ohio sensibility.

5) Stop buying in to teaching that the Bible is God's Word, since evolution happened.

6) Realize that it's questionable that the Bible even talks about Homosexuality in it's modern sense.

7) Still think gay sex is gross and unappealing, and thus leave unquestioned the assumption that God doesn't want us to do gross gay butt things.

8) Watch "Angels in America" and realize that the gays are people too.

9) Decide that I'm going to stop being a hater/homophobe and that my biases were mostly based on a gut feeling of "yuckiness" and ignorance.

10) Decide to join the Anglican/Episcopal Church formally, since it generally says that it's alright to not discriminate against gay people, if you don't want to, at least in America.

11) Move to Capitol Hill

12) Establish a social circle that is about 75% gay/lesbian.

13) Make other people mad with my suggestions that being gay should be okay, even if the Bible seems to say otherwise.

14) Get a job with Multifaith Works, thus diving even further into the subculture which I used to view as evil and gross. I'm definitely not in Camden anymore.

15) Suspect that my friends might think I'm secretly in the closet, what with my career path (priest) and super-gay social circle, and general lack of continued homophobia.

Let's hear it for the gays!!

Autumn is here in Seattle, which means that the rain is returning, which means that there's a nihilistic storm brewing inside my head every day at Specialty Bottle. But lets not talk about that! An old college friend and my blog's only frequent commenter recently made some of the gayest friends ever! To celebrate, here's a list of some of the advantages of being a heterosexual male with gay friends, divined from my own experiences living in Seattle's gay center, Capitol Hill!

1. You can adopt a self-righteous attitude towards anyone without gay friends. They obviously must not be nearly as comfortable with their sexuality as you!

2. People will know that you're not one of those homophobic fools who is constantly worried that gay guys might be checking them out. In fact, (people will think) maybe you believe that your gay friends do check you out, and flatter yourself with the thought! Further, maybe you even get a bit jealous when your gay friends check out other guys in your presence! How progressive!

3. You can finally let out your feminine side with the guys and not feel self-conscious about it. So what if I like Patsy Cline and cute little puppies?!

4. Gay men seem to surround themselves with beautiful women, who in turn will think that you, their straight friend, are uncommonly sensitive.

5. Who hasn't wanted an inside view of the seedy gay subculture?! You know that you're at least a little bit curious about what happens on a bus full of transvestites, and who doesn't want inside tips on which color pocket bandana not to wear to a gay bar?

6. Go out with a few gay people and everyone will know you're with-it. Homophobia was so Eighties!

7. Gay men in your neighborhood are great for your property value--they're clean, quiet, neat and friendly!

8. It gives your female companion the opportunity to develop safe male friendships. You may worry a bit if one of them is going to try something on you at a party, but you can at least be sure that he won't slip anything in your wife/girlfriend's drink!

9. Gay people are funny! (Being so progressive, I of course mean that in a positive way--like, you know, I appreciate David Sedaris' hilarity. Not like I think you should laugh at the kid who throws like a girl in gym class.)

10. One word: Fashion. If we've learned one thing in the years after 9/11, it's that every straight guy needs the queer eye treatment!

11. You can use funny words like "queer-bait" and "fag-hag" ironically, and most people won't think you're a bigot! (I admit I do this with a bit of trepidation. I don't want my humor to be like a hetero equivalent of Michael Rappaport's racial humor or anything).

12. Who else are you going to dance to Madonna with?

13. Finally, and most importantly, you can take pride that you no longer are "the oppressor"!

I'd love to hear some advantages that you, my readers, derive from your gay friendships!