Not long ago, our Roman brethren celebrated the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and yesterday was the commemoration of Our Lady of Guadalupe. This got me thinking. I am not a typical Mary-bashing Protestant, being an Anglican evangelical. However, I have many reservations about those practices that are not grounded firmly in Scripture. I can affirm the Virgin Birth (talking about Mary being a virgin at Christ's conception), but not the perpetual virginity of Mary. I can say the Magnificat in the Daily Office, without wondering if I am giving too much focus on her. I can affirm that in some way the prayers of the martyrs (a la the Apocalypse) are in continuity with heaven and earth, without embracing a full on cult of the saints, and certainly with no pretensions in the direction of Mary being acclaimed Coredemptrix. There was an interesting paper about the place of Mary put out by the Anglican Communion/Roman Catholic dialogue, which I must admit not reading in its entirety. Certainly the life and faith of Mary is commendable, and Protestants generally do not give her enough credit. Many esteem Calvin, Wesley, and Luther to the same degree many Roman Christians hold Mary.
So here's a cyber-pint to Mary this Advent and Christmastide. May light perpetual shine upon her, as with all the faithful departed. Let us remember what amazing young woman she was a Godbearer. May we likewise bear the presence of God in the fullness of the Holy Spirit as a witness to the world.
12/13/2008
8/20/2008
Conflict and Sacrament
The news is always consumed with conflict--Iraq, Georgia, Afghanistan, the Anglican Communion, the ramp-up to the November election. Where is God to be found in this? Marcion was a heretic who denied a loving God could stomach much less instigate conflict. Yet we are remiss in our biblical and theological understanding if we do not look to reconcile the "war" imagery of ancient Israel with the "peace" imagery made known in Jesus Christ.
First, it is incorrect to find the opposite of peace in violence. The opposite of peace is anarchy, or theologically, the absence of God's rule. Violence is a tool. Some things need to be destroyed, swept away, overcome. I take antibiotics to destroy infection-causing bacteria. I sweep my house and use various cleaners to stem the build-up of dust and debris that would make my home a haven for insects and vermin. The difficulty arises when fallen human beings make use of so dangerous a tool as violence. Which is why we must never use words carelessly or take actions indiscriminately. I am not God, but I seek his direction to know when violence is needed, and know when violence is never justified.
Second, peace can only ultimately be accomplished by God himself. As much as I pray to be an instrument of peace, and as much as I pray for God's kingdom to come on earth, I know that what I can accomplish is limited. All is dependent on the Holy Spirit's carrying out of the salvation made real through Jesus Christ according to the will of the Father.
Third, God never backs down from a fight, but he doesn't always use violence to achieve peace. The ultimate example of this is Christ's self-abasement and sacrifice. Christ is the perfect model of restraint, but Christ's insistence to us to "turn the other cheek" is accomplished by Christ himself. That means it becomes more difficult to discern God's will in a given situation. Perhaps, pacifists are correct as a general rule of thumb, but as Dietrich Bonhoeffer discovered, there are circumstances that demand violent action to bring peace.
Fourth, understand that conflict is not eternal. As ubiquitous as fights are, as longstanding some hatreds carry on over the generations, they all must end. El Salvador, once ripped with sectarian violence, has former enemies celebrating the weddings of their children with one another. They basically, as a nation, just stopped killing. People eventually tire of fighting, and creative solutions to conflict that mirror God's heavenly rule emerge. Is this common grace? Does this point to perhaps a sacramental pain made accessible by violence that causes us to strive for peace? Is the violence that was experienced, as tragic as it is, the necessary precursor in some instances of a cleansing by blood of people's hearts--not in terms of vengeance, but to make them ready to accept peace?
I am still remain unconvinced of pacifism, though for me there is an attraction to the kind of logical consistency it carries. But life, as I've seen it, is a dirty, unpredictable business. And while I believe there are underlying foundations and principles that must guide our approach to conflict, originating in God, the fall-out of sin makes for a much less identifiably consistent outcome and means of approach.
So practically, I see how violence, as a neutral creation, can be used for good ends or ill. I also look to see how God might be using all means redemptively in the midst of conflict. In humility and prayer, I do what I can as best as I perceive it to minimize and squelch the conflict. Finally, I remember that conflict is temporary, and the longer I keep it on life-support, by action OR inaction, the worse it typically is for everyone involved. It's a less-than-perfect ethic for a less-than-perfect world, but I trust that God will forgive my shortcomings as I continue to seek him and live according to love.
First, it is incorrect to find the opposite of peace in violence. The opposite of peace is anarchy, or theologically, the absence of God's rule. Violence is a tool. Some things need to be destroyed, swept away, overcome. I take antibiotics to destroy infection-causing bacteria. I sweep my house and use various cleaners to stem the build-up of dust and debris that would make my home a haven for insects and vermin. The difficulty arises when fallen human beings make use of so dangerous a tool as violence. Which is why we must never use words carelessly or take actions indiscriminately. I am not God, but I seek his direction to know when violence is needed, and know when violence is never justified.
Second, peace can only ultimately be accomplished by God himself. As much as I pray to be an instrument of peace, and as much as I pray for God's kingdom to come on earth, I know that what I can accomplish is limited. All is dependent on the Holy Spirit's carrying out of the salvation made real through Jesus Christ according to the will of the Father.
Third, God never backs down from a fight, but he doesn't always use violence to achieve peace. The ultimate example of this is Christ's self-abasement and sacrifice. Christ is the perfect model of restraint, but Christ's insistence to us to "turn the other cheek" is accomplished by Christ himself. That means it becomes more difficult to discern God's will in a given situation. Perhaps, pacifists are correct as a general rule of thumb, but as Dietrich Bonhoeffer discovered, there are circumstances that demand violent action to bring peace.
Fourth, understand that conflict is not eternal. As ubiquitous as fights are, as longstanding some hatreds carry on over the generations, they all must end. El Salvador, once ripped with sectarian violence, has former enemies celebrating the weddings of their children with one another. They basically, as a nation, just stopped killing. People eventually tire of fighting, and creative solutions to conflict that mirror God's heavenly rule emerge. Is this common grace? Does this point to perhaps a sacramental pain made accessible by violence that causes us to strive for peace? Is the violence that was experienced, as tragic as it is, the necessary precursor in some instances of a cleansing by blood of people's hearts--not in terms of vengeance, but to make them ready to accept peace?
I am still remain unconvinced of pacifism, though for me there is an attraction to the kind of logical consistency it carries. But life, as I've seen it, is a dirty, unpredictable business. And while I believe there are underlying foundations and principles that must guide our approach to conflict, originating in God, the fall-out of sin makes for a much less identifiably consistent outcome and means of approach.
So practically, I see how violence, as a neutral creation, can be used for good ends or ill. I also look to see how God might be using all means redemptively in the midst of conflict. In humility and prayer, I do what I can as best as I perceive it to minimize and squelch the conflict. Finally, I remember that conflict is temporary, and the longer I keep it on life-support, by action OR inaction, the worse it typically is for everyone involved. It's a less-than-perfect ethic for a less-than-perfect world, but I trust that God will forgive my shortcomings as I continue to seek him and live according to love.
6/13/2008
Sacramental Pain
Perhaps one of the most disconcerting issues for Christians is how they are to address pain and suffering. We find promises in Holy Scripture about how God blesses His children with health, long life, wealth, and respect. At the same time we find the stories and psalming cries of those who suffer and are yet faithful to God. How is this to be reconciled?
This past Sunday I had the opportunity to preach on the story of Abraham and the Three Visitors and Romans 5 (using the lectionary readings). And without re-preaching, let me summarize to say that God uses suffering in a redemptive way. Suffering, as much as it seems to contradict what God expresses as His benevolent desire for our good, can be a wonderful opportunity to grow as we walk in genuine trust. Jesus Himself bore the tremendous grief of torture and crucifixion, and with that all the agonies we each endured, are enduring, or will ever endure--all out of love for us.
The truth of God's redemptive experience and permission of suffering can seem carrion comfort at the time. But if we allow God's love to become our focus, realizing that God Himself is present in our pains, manifesting grace often in a way mysterious to us, we open ourselves to receiving that pain sacramentally. It's then we begin to see the process St. Paul describes of moving from faith, to perseverance, to character, to hope, to its fruition in eternal life--and God's loving grace, His very presence, is there with us each step of the way.
This past Sunday I had the opportunity to preach on the story of Abraham and the Three Visitors and Romans 5 (using the lectionary readings). And without re-preaching, let me summarize to say that God uses suffering in a redemptive way. Suffering, as much as it seems to contradict what God expresses as His benevolent desire for our good, can be a wonderful opportunity to grow as we walk in genuine trust. Jesus Himself bore the tremendous grief of torture and crucifixion, and with that all the agonies we each endured, are enduring, or will ever endure--all out of love for us.
The truth of God's redemptive experience and permission of suffering can seem carrion comfort at the time. But if we allow God's love to become our focus, realizing that God Himself is present in our pains, manifesting grace often in a way mysterious to us, we open ourselves to receiving that pain sacramentally. It's then we begin to see the process St. Paul describes of moving from faith, to perseverance, to character, to hope, to its fruition in eternal life--and God's loving grace, His very presence, is there with us each step of the way.
5/27/2008
Anglican Left/Right Battles and the Moral High Ground
I carry considerable despair concerning the future of the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church at times in light of what I'll call "the troubles." Dan Martins posted a suggested solution to the botched "abandonment" charges brought up against bishops Schofield and Cox, and Greg Griffith responded forthwith that the move was quite calculated. Then there is the ongoing legal battles over property. But here's the kicker. Neither side has done the right thing, in my opinion.
On the TEC side of things, in spite of claims of "fiduciary" responsibility, the moral high ground is to let parishes leave with the property. Whether as an example of "generosity," to further demonstrate acceptance of Windsor/DES stipulations, as an act that shows they trust the claimed new leading of the Holy Spirit regardless of the cost, to avoid public perception as vindictive business-as-usual Christians by those outside the Church, or simply as an imitation of God's own character (consider the father in Christ' parable of the prodigal son), the rationale for NOT seeking what may or may not be rightfully TEC's is substantial enough for all legal pursuits to cease and allowing departing parishes to keep the assets.
On the departing Anglican side of things, for similar reasons, letting claims to property and assets go are truly worthwhile. Many sacrifices are being made by departing parishes--no clear future within the Anglican Communion, longstanding relationships and ties (some for generations), leaving behind the institutional benefits of pensions and insurance by clergy, perhaps bearing the stigma of being "schismatic" or "homophobic," even internal disagreement with fellow congregants who want to remain with TEC. With these considerations in mind, what are buildings and assets, really? To leave behind buildings and assets demonstrates a full trust in God's leading to depart, or in some cases it demonstrates that such things are albatrosses that only inhibit getting about the business of God's kingdom.
Whoever will leave the keys without a fight will be taking the moral high ground, both theologically and in the court of public opinion.
But what if both sides parted with the buildings? What if both sides never claimed a penny of the assets that remained? I highly doubt it would happen, but it might stand as a testimony of a brighter future for both sides. If both sides demonstrate the kind of humility, repentance, and sacrifice needed to create the unlikely scenario of unclaimed property and money, then there is a chance that both the fast-moving drift toward heresy and schism could be reversed, relationships healed, and a (re)formed Anglican witness not merely remain but thrive once again.
I'm a pessimist, but I'm allowed to dream aren't I?
On the TEC side of things, in spite of claims of "fiduciary" responsibility, the moral high ground is to let parishes leave with the property. Whether as an example of "generosity," to further demonstrate acceptance of Windsor/DES stipulations, as an act that shows they trust the claimed new leading of the Holy Spirit regardless of the cost, to avoid public perception as vindictive business-as-usual Christians by those outside the Church, or simply as an imitation of God's own character (consider the father in Christ' parable of the prodigal son), the rationale for NOT seeking what may or may not be rightfully TEC's is substantial enough for all legal pursuits to cease and allowing departing parishes to keep the assets.
On the departing Anglican side of things, for similar reasons, letting claims to property and assets go are truly worthwhile. Many sacrifices are being made by departing parishes--no clear future within the Anglican Communion, longstanding relationships and ties (some for generations), leaving behind the institutional benefits of pensions and insurance by clergy, perhaps bearing the stigma of being "schismatic" or "homophobic," even internal disagreement with fellow congregants who want to remain with TEC. With these considerations in mind, what are buildings and assets, really? To leave behind buildings and assets demonstrates a full trust in God's leading to depart, or in some cases it demonstrates that such things are albatrosses that only inhibit getting about the business of God's kingdom.
Whoever will leave the keys without a fight will be taking the moral high ground, both theologically and in the court of public opinion.
But what if both sides parted with the buildings? What if both sides never claimed a penny of the assets that remained? I highly doubt it would happen, but it might stand as a testimony of a brighter future for both sides. If both sides demonstrate the kind of humility, repentance, and sacrifice needed to create the unlikely scenario of unclaimed property and money, then there is a chance that both the fast-moving drift toward heresy and schism could be reversed, relationships healed, and a (re)formed Anglican witness not merely remain but thrive once again.
I'm a pessimist, but I'm allowed to dream aren't I?
5/14/2008
A Sacramental View of Scripture
If indeed all things in creation are ways by which God desires to engage us with grace, then it would make sense that Scripture is sacramental. There is a grace intended to be communicated to us through the the pages of the Holy Bible. What is that grace? The grace of God's decision to reveal his will, to speak to his people and his creation. we find the very "speaking" act of God foundational to creation itself (Genesis 1). And its continued sustenance by God's "powerful word" (Hebrews 1:3) shows that God's speech is intended for the beginning, upholding, and renewing of creation.
The analogy of Jesus as the Incarnate Word and the Bible as God's Word is very natural to make at this stage. As Jesus Christ is fully God and fully human, so is Scripture by its nature at the same time the words of God and the words of their human authors. This has ramifications for our hermeneutical views of Scripture. We recognize that Jesus in the flesh sufficiently and fully represented God, but was yet emptied of the full majesty due him. He was subject to death, pain, human limitations, and the very earthy constraints we would not normally associate with God.
Scripture, in like fashion, truly and full conveys what desires for us to know, that his creative power might work in us as we hear him speak in the pages of Scripture. Yet that Scripture has been subjected to very human conditions--limited vocabulary; progressive understanding of the authors, and thus revelation of truth; being conveyed via oral and written sources that are corruptible. Nevertheless, as the Holy Spirit both overshadowed Mary at the incarnation, and resurrected Jesus Christ from the dead, the Holy Spirit inspired the human authors, and breathes through Scripture into us new life.
Thus, the inheritance of Scripture is essential to our spiritual life. We cannot pick and choose the parts we like. We have to recognize that what is conveyed is intended, preserved, and vivified the Holy Spirit. As Christ in his hypostatic union is still one being in essence, though of two natures; Scripture contains a primary intent, found both in the heart of God and the ideas of the human writers. And as we obey one Lord Jesus Christ, taking the fullness of who he is upon our lives, we have no right to change the words of Scripture, neglect portions of it, or interpret Scripture in a manner that causes it to be self-negating.
And as we receive the grace of God in Scripture, our response should be one of thankful faith, manifested in obedience and worship. Then we will see the sacramental fruits of Scripture take root and bring life to our lives.
The analogy of Jesus as the Incarnate Word and the Bible as God's Word is very natural to make at this stage. As Jesus Christ is fully God and fully human, so is Scripture by its nature at the same time the words of God and the words of their human authors. This has ramifications for our hermeneutical views of Scripture. We recognize that Jesus in the flesh sufficiently and fully represented God, but was yet emptied of the full majesty due him. He was subject to death, pain, human limitations, and the very earthy constraints we would not normally associate with God.
Scripture, in like fashion, truly and full conveys what desires for us to know, that his creative power might work in us as we hear him speak in the pages of Scripture. Yet that Scripture has been subjected to very human conditions--limited vocabulary; progressive understanding of the authors, and thus revelation of truth; being conveyed via oral and written sources that are corruptible. Nevertheless, as the Holy Spirit both overshadowed Mary at the incarnation, and resurrected Jesus Christ from the dead, the Holy Spirit inspired the human authors, and breathes through Scripture into us new life.
Thus, the inheritance of Scripture is essential to our spiritual life. We cannot pick and choose the parts we like. We have to recognize that what is conveyed is intended, preserved, and vivified the Holy Spirit. As Christ in his hypostatic union is still one being in essence, though of two natures; Scripture contains a primary intent, found both in the heart of God and the ideas of the human writers. And as we obey one Lord Jesus Christ, taking the fullness of who he is upon our lives, we have no right to change the words of Scripture, neglect portions of it, or interpret Scripture in a manner that causes it to be self-negating.
And as we receive the grace of God in Scripture, our response should be one of thankful faith, manifested in obedience and worship. Then we will see the sacramental fruits of Scripture take root and bring life to our lives.
5/08/2008
Components of a Sacrament
In order to understand our Sacramental God, we must understand all that is necessary for something to be sacramental. I'll be honest in saying that I do not purport in portraying a comprehensive view of sacraments. And frankly, I am uncertain as to how connected my beliefs are with any let alone Anglican view of sacraments. My draw to Anglicanism has been chasing the reverberating echo I sent out signaled back to me from Anglicanism that I heard as I have tried to follow Jesus.
Some minimum requirements are needed for a sacrament to "happen." First and most important, you need God. Second, you need something created by God (something that isn't God, material or not, even a mere idea). Third, you need God's operating by means of the created thing to convey an aspect of his benevolence and, in some manner, presence/grace. From this minimal definition, literally anything can be a sacrament. In fact, I would even suggest everything is sacramental in some manner. But the purpose of each sacrament is not the same in scope and effect. All sacraments make holy something may not ordinarily be counted holy, thus making it a vehicle of God to express his divine nature and intentions toward creation and humanity.
Finally, all sacraments demand a response. Whether we are talking Newtonian physics ("for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction"), or relational interactions between us with God and one another, the Sacramental God acts in ways that make it impossible to for there to be mere stasis. Creation must respond. We must confront the reality of the Living God as the Holy Spirit moves within us and outside us. God is wooing us, summoning us, seeking our greatest good and his ultimate glory, which coincide with one another again and again. Perhaps it is time for us to open up our eyes to the workings of the Heavenly Father, revealed in Jesus Christ, and still at work among us through the Holy Spirit.
Some minimum requirements are needed for a sacrament to "happen." First and most important, you need God. Second, you need something created by God (something that isn't God, material or not, even a mere idea). Third, you need God's operating by means of the created thing to convey an aspect of his benevolence and, in some manner, presence/grace. From this minimal definition, literally anything can be a sacrament. In fact, I would even suggest everything is sacramental in some manner. But the purpose of each sacrament is not the same in scope and effect. All sacraments make holy something may not ordinarily be counted holy, thus making it a vehicle of God to express his divine nature and intentions toward creation and humanity.
Finally, all sacraments demand a response. Whether we are talking Newtonian physics ("for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction"), or relational interactions between us with God and one another, the Sacramental God acts in ways that make it impossible to for there to be mere stasis. Creation must respond. We must confront the reality of the Living God as the Holy Spirit moves within us and outside us. God is wooing us, summoning us, seeking our greatest good and his ultimate glory, which coincide with one another again and again. Perhaps it is time for us to open up our eyes to the workings of the Heavenly Father, revealed in Jesus Christ, and still at work among us through the Holy Spirit.
5/01/2008
The Sacramental God
I have been taking a class on John Henry Newman, focusing on when he was still an Anglican, reading primarily from his Oxford sermons and his Parochial & Plain Sermons. For my most recent paper, I read his sermon on the Eucharistic Presence of Jesus in holy communion. And it got me thinking about how I have been framing my theological ideas for some time now, at least the past 5 years. I truly believe that God interacts pre-eminently with creation sacramentally. But I would qualify that what I mean by sacrament is not limited to the 2 Gospel sacraments or the Roman 7.
I believe every manner by which God interacts with creation is a sacrament. Wherever grace is found touching the physical world, that is where God is, and that is a sacramental act on God's part. Sacraments also, by their nature, demand a response to fully apprehend the benefit they are intended to give. Perhaps this would be a good topic to address in the next few posts, concerning how our sacramental God engages us to win us and creation back into a restored relationship with Him.
I believe every manner by which God interacts with creation is a sacrament. Wherever grace is found touching the physical world, that is where God is, and that is a sacramental act on God's part. Sacraments also, by their nature, demand a response to fully apprehend the benefit they are intended to give. Perhaps this would be a good topic to address in the next few posts, concerning how our sacramental God engages us to win us and creation back into a restored relationship with Him.
4/21/2008
Finding the Core
Kelly and I got into a discussion yesterday about whether certain beliefs/actions were necessary to be a Christian (and maybe which ones). Particularly the centerpiece was the idea of a kind of pluralism, potentially embodied in a pop culture icon like Bono who in many circles would be discounted as a genuine Christian, in others a wishy-washy Christian, and in still others a model of Christian faith and practice. The basic idea that we are all sinners, have an incomplete and usually distorted view of God, but yet were recipients of grace opens a unique can of worms when it comes to issues such as salvation, faith, Church membership, etc. There is definitely a body of teaching that can be seen as essentially the core of Christianity. But it begins to blur at the edges, as we make allowances for debatable issues. As Anglicans we even have a "doctrine" of via media to embody a tolerance for a degree of theological fuzziness, originally so England wouldn't fall into the sectarian post-Reformation warring chaos, but in effect permitting a wide degree of opinions on almost concept or practice in the Church.
There is a central core to Christian faith and practice. There is such a thing as special revelation by which God reveals Himself to us. But immediately natural questions come up. What is the source of this revelation? How reliable is it? How much and what kind of authority should be ascribed to/recognized in it? How does this source rank among other possible sources? How do I make a determination among these sources? Do I really even have a right to make such determinations and ask such questions?
Yes there is a core. And the closer one comes to the core, the more one sees through the fuzziness at the edges. That core has been attested to for millennia by God's people. Echoes of it reverberate in the galaxy of other other faiths, but the central fullness, including the mystery it encompasses, is found as we become more rooted in Holy Scripture, more aware of the consistent strains that weave through tradition of the Church, more committed to the historic practices of devotion and service, and more intentionally loving of others starkly different than us. We also come closer to the core as we become more humble, more silent, more penitent, and more giving. There is a point we cross over from death to life, when we "become" Christian. But that point is not so discernible to many. The point is keep traveling to the center. Because it is there where we will meet God face to face.
There is a central core to Christian faith and practice. There is such a thing as special revelation by which God reveals Himself to us. But immediately natural questions come up. What is the source of this revelation? How reliable is it? How much and what kind of authority should be ascribed to/recognized in it? How does this source rank among other possible sources? How do I make a determination among these sources? Do I really even have a right to make such determinations and ask such questions?
Yes there is a core. And the closer one comes to the core, the more one sees through the fuzziness at the edges. That core has been attested to for millennia by God's people. Echoes of it reverberate in the galaxy of other other faiths, but the central fullness, including the mystery it encompasses, is found as we become more rooted in Holy Scripture, more aware of the consistent strains that weave through tradition of the Church, more committed to the historic practices of devotion and service, and more intentionally loving of others starkly different than us. We also come closer to the core as we become more humble, more silent, more penitent, and more giving. There is a point we cross over from death to life, when we "become" Christian. But that point is not so discernible to many. The point is keep traveling to the center. Because it is there where we will meet God face to face.
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