The Crucible of Resentment

Well, it does tend to come all at once.

The "Common Cause" partners are now meeting, venting their heated rhetoric for all who will listen, denouncing The Episcopal Church as the latest anti-Christ. Bishop Duncan of Pittsburgh in the midst of a gathering that attacks the Presiding Bishop and commiserates over a sea of grievances now resorts to language that refers to the example of wartime presidents, last stands, and the "lost province." It is all very apocalyptic in tone. Perhaps that's how it feels to the Bishop of Pittsburgh.

Meanwhile, Archbishop Akinola, in an extended interview with The Guardian in Nigeria, accuses TEC of resorting to "spiritual slavery" as the latest incarnation of Western imperialism. This is a familiar page out of the politics 101 play book: paint up those you've declared your enemies (i.e. The Episcopal Church, the Church of Canada, et. al.) in the worst way possible and hang on them the weight of responsibility for every ill suffered.

Such is the crucible of resentment.

Schismatic groups are now losing in the courts over their claims on church property, the Archbishop of Canterbury has not delivered with a hoped-for ejection of The Episcopal Church from the Anglican Communion, half-hearted attempts to divide the House of Bishops failed, the bullying by a handful of Primates has not born the desired fruit, and so it is now time to take matters into their own hands and prepare to depart while making as much noise and spitting as much bile as possible. Mark Harris notes with illuminating insight the shift that has now occurred in the realignment crowd: the hope for an alternative or even replacement Anglican province in North America is now eclipsed by a repudiation of Canterbury and hatching plans for an entirely new parallel Anglican Communion.

It is tempting to resent them all in return.

I do my utmost to refuse.

The crucible of resentment is a painful place to live and is ultimately injurious to the soul. It is also most un-Christian, and clearly destructive to the life of community.

But, then, I am apparently a heretic, and I've nurtured grudges from time to time, so what do I know?

Suffice it to say that I find it incredibly sad that the new formulation must (once again?) be the result of rallying against a perceived common enemy, punctuated with an overly exaggerated sense of injury, and the construction of colossal straw men to knock down with as much invective as possible. Maybe this is the dark side of our Reformation heritage.

But at the end of the day, this latest barrage brings more to my mind the all-too-familiar visage of three-year-old temper tantrums than a Spirit-inspired image of the Church at prayer.

When this is over (may it be soon), it will be healing to hear what they are really for. Perhaps Jesus Christ? Yes, he's mixed up in this somewhere.

How I long for him to be revealed.

On Being Christian

The Schoolyard or the Church? Our choice.

My friend and theologian, Christopher, is never one to mince words. His most recent post speaks to the loud statements issued in the press by bishops and archbishops over the past several days, and I heartily agree with him.

The true Anglican Communion will continue where the Gospel is being proclaimed and the People of God treat one another as Christ would have us: with love, patience, generosity, and a direct and heartfelt honesty.

All the rest is schoolyard politics, if not schoolyard bullying.

And it has worn thin, not being rooted in anything more than hubris.

Time to stop, even for those of us, perhaps especially for those of us who aren't bishops!

For Whom the Church?

Fr. Jake writes of the Church, in reaching out to those beyond our doors, in his most recent post:

Of course, a relationship with the living God is our intended "product." But in this new consumer mentality, such matters seem often to become secondary to rears in the pew.

Does that seem harsh? Maybe it is. Here's my concern; to what degree can we respond to the "felt needs" of those coming through our doors at the expense of "real needs"? As Ehrich puts it; "Religion, while claiming to be in the 'truth' business, seems more concerned with preserving its franchise through selective interpretations of Scripture, resisting science, seeking political allies, and telling congregants what they want to hear."

Let me say it even more radically. I don't think church has much of anything to do with what people think they "want." I think it has everything to do with offering our praise and thanksgivings to God.

Interestingly, this is a sentiment that is not only being expressed in the more liberal wing of "mainline" denominations, but also on the evangelical side of Christianity. Rick Warren opens his bestseller A Purpose Driven Life by discussing this at the very individual level when he tells the story of being approached by a congregant who felt unmoved by a worship service. Rick's reply, in essence, was that it wasn't about how the congregant felt, but about the offering of worship to God.

At the surface, this seems fair enough, but I am left unsatisfied by Rick's response. Is the Church's worship really only about God?

To push the point further into the questions I wrestle with on a regular basis as a parish priest:

Why should anyone remain in a community where their life in Christ is no longer nurtured or deepened? And how can we claim to serve the living God with that which might be dead?

What I forever find arresting is the wonder of God's grace in that it will find other ways to reach others with or without the Church. We are not indispensable. In that sense, then, it's indeed not about us!

Yet it also seems appropriate here to remember Jesus' words to Peter in John:

Do you love me? . . . Feed my sheep.

That is indeed a major piece of what we're about -- feeding the People of God. The sacraments, including the mystery of the Church, are not for feeding God. They are for feeding the human family. We could say that God, outside of the incarnation, has no need for us -- God being God and all that. But the message of Christianity seems to me is that God desires us still, out of love before time. And so we have the incarnation in Jesus Christ. And Christ tells us that we feed him by feeding one another.

So if building vital programs and offering lively, relevant worship, preaching, and service is what it takes to bring others into the life of Christ, to feed God in our neighbor, then that, too, is the work of the Gospel through the sacramental Body of Christ, the Church. We are bread broken and offered just as much as we have broken bread to give to feed those who are hungry. The complaints we might hear about boring worship, an uninspiring sermon, or lackluster program carry weight. We'd best listen to them and discern carefully what the Spirit is telling us in them. We dismiss them at our peril.

At the same time, we must also recognize, in classic Anglican both-and fashion, that ultimately the Church is not about me and my needs, either. That is, in addition to being sure I am nurtured, another major piece of the Church's call is to invite me to offer my gifts -- to empty myself -- for the greater well-being of God's people. I am not merely a consumer of Church, but someone engaged in the life of community. Otherwise, I am not living into my Christian faith, and I am not truly living into being the creature God has made me to be. The whole Church is ultimately about this, too. The Church does not exist for itself, and is called to empty itself for the sake of the Gospel and the world.

So we indeed have an obligation to reach out to others, or -- to use a metaphor found in the gospels -- to throw out a net, and an attractive one at that. It is not enough simply to say, "It's not about you. It's about God." We must recognize that our service to God is inexorably part of our service to others.

Philip Sheldrake writes:

It is vitally important to recover a spirituality of desire.

Befriending Our Desires, p. 7

Another thought came to mind in response to Fr. Jake's reflection: we must be careful when we go out triumphant to slay the beast of consumerism. The culture of consumerism is not problematic because of human desire. The culture of consumerism is problematic because it often fills us up with falsehoods. It responds to real needs with illusory products: with candy rather than solid food, with emptiness rather than substance; and it nurtures greed rather than addressing the authentic desire that can build up and heal the human family.

Yet desire remains, and authenticity to me is the real concern here. "Rears in the pew" is indeed about greed -- the greed of a self-serving institution (a dead Church). Selling a bill of goods merely to bring people in the door is indeed about falsehood. But nurturing authentic relationship with God in Christ is the mission of the Church. And people have a deep desire for that kind of relationship, and the Church should endeavor in every way meet it, advertise for it, appeal to it, and use (and in some ways redeem by God's grace) every good tool that the culture of consumerism offers us to reach others . . . or be made redundant.

The Book of Common Prayer finds the proper balance over this question in the Catechism:

The Church pursues its mission as it prays and worships, proclaims the Gospel, and promotes justice, peace, and love.

p. 855

Prayer and worship for God. Mission -- proclamation, justice, peace, and love -- to meet the true needs and deepest desires of the people around us with God's abundance. Worship nourishes mission. Mission is a form of true worship. We cannot do one without the other.

Indeed, my long circling here boils down to what has already been said:

Our being here as Church for both God and our neighbor is exactly what the Great Commandment tells us!

An Unsacramental Priest's Bellyache

Many in the Anglican blogosphere seem to be taking offense these days.

So I will join the crowd and indulge a brief bellyache and issue my own little bullish response to the most recent papal statement, which has caused quite a stir.

Regardless of what the Pope says, I still believe in the sacramental priesthood and that I remain, however imperfectly, a member of that Order. I also believe I serve the Church, despite the reminder by His Holiness that we are not a church. As I pronounced last rites for a remarkable Christian of the community I serve this past week and then shared communion with his loving family, I find the Pope's statement pastorally callous, however rooted it might be in Roman Catholic ecclesiology.

It is the Spirit and God in Christ at work in the "ecclesiastical community" that defines the Church and makes the sacraments valid, not the magisterium declaring proper apostolic succession, nor my personal virtue or lack of same.

I still love my Roman Catholic brothers and sisters. The path to ecumenical relationship and the persistent dream of reunification, however wistful, is through our incarnate, shared ministries in the community -- not through the doors of the Vatican. But the Pope continues to have my prayers, and unconditional ones at that.

As Tobias Haller writes, he has said nothing new, and that should suffice as an antacid.

There, that's succinct and straightforward as far as bellyaches go. Off to unload the dishwasher.

Update before lunch: The widely circulated AP Report notes speculation but little substance about the motivation behind the Vatican's statement making such a statement at this time.

So we are left with Daniel's incessant question these days: Dooshite? Why?

Maybe the Pope needs a few more questioning three-year-olds around him!

So says this Papa, at least.

Update during lunch: Tobias has risen to the occasion and offered a more in-depth analysis.

Daniel would likely continue to press the question. So do I!

In Response

. . . to the vitriol that has erupted over the past few days in the Anglican blogosphere, our beloved Tobias Haller has written an admonition, one that we might all do well to follow.

As a warning, he writes:

Anger, offense, luxuriating in one’s own victimization, in being insulted and injured, can be powerful sources of emotional energy. They are stimulant drugs, the energy drinks of the soul; and though they “give you wings” I fear they are the kind with scales instead of feathers. They may help you build up a head of steam, but their addictive quality will lead you to seek for more and more offense, rather than seeking peace, understanding and reconciliation. Revenge, whether served hot or cold, may be tasty but it is not nutritious. The junk food of the soul will leave you empty and exhausted.

Read the rest.