Beyond Justice to Mercy

This morning, I decided to catch up on some blogs, when I noticed this graphic at Episcopal Cafe. In the Lectionary, I've been concentrating on the Jeremiah/Lamentations passages in my sermons, and I couldn't help thinking how scary justice is. Justice is the setting of things right, the rectifying of wrongs. And as much as justice is necessary, by itself it destroys relationships because it sets an absolutist view of fairness as a priority over and above reconciliation. The Christian message has always proclaimed that justice has been ultimately taken care of by the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ upon the cross.

Thus efforts to minimize (or worse, abandon) a theology of the cross as necessary to how we relate to God and to others leaves open the clamoring of voices who won't be silenced until some human perception of "justice desserts" has been achieved--even at the expense of those things that make life worth living. But grace, with its attending dependence upon what Jesus did at Calvary, gives us the room to start over, to not be tied to mere human standards of right and wrong, and to enjoy both the time and growing strength of the Holy Spirit to be able to make amends in a way that flows from a place of love. As the old Susan Ashton song says, "We must reach out beyond justice to mercy."

Anne Rice and Hubris

Anne Rice's recent denunciation of the Church has brought to the fore, once again, Western culture's disaffection with organized religion. Any quick Google search on the effects of organized religion will produce a plethora of negative, even vindictive sites to wade through. And I will be the first to lament the tragic associations of religion with all sorts of vile evils throughout history.

Yet, there is an odd hubris in Rice's actions, and many others' like hers. In the quest for a pure spirituality, "organized religion" is cast away, as though the problem is an impersonal structural impediment. Yet the difficulty is not that religions have structure, teaching, norms of practice, rules, and so on. All collective human endeavors have those marks.

The real difficulty is that, even the most saintly of us, struggles with a broken human nature addicted to the tendency to sin. Ms. Rice's attack on the perceived injustices within the Church of her recent rejection ends up becoming an attack upon her own self. Is she so pure that she is immune to the inclination to think, feel, and do things contrary to God's will? This is not a criticism but a concern--for there is not a human being on this planet who can make such a claim.

The best spiritual practices always have a communal/corporate dimension to them. We need each other. And as a followers of Jesus, who placed top priority on loving God and neighbor, Rice cannot easily dodge the importance of having companions on any pilgrimage. Alas, that is where the proposition to discard "organized religion" breaks down. Because when we get together to share, worship, pray, serve, think, create, and mark milestones we do so after an inherited or improvised order. We develop structures, basic agreed upon teachings and wise practices, appoint leaders who are responsible for various aspects of the spiritual community's life. Thus, our sins become amplified through these necessary communal structures--yet, so does the good that results.

I could make all sorts of other arguments to defend the necessity of organized religion, but at its most simple is the proposition that "no man (or woman) is an island" (Donne). And while it can be the case that "hell is other people" (Sartre), Jesus does not give us the option to love only God. We need to love other people, too. And it is impossible to love without a community in which that love can be put into practice.

Glasspool Happened, and No Apocalypse Yet

Well, it's happened--the Episcopal Church once again acted upon its Communion-dismantling trajectory and did not hinder Mary Glasspool from being consecrated. Not that anyone expected it not to happen. And the whole thing went by with little attention, as noted in a less-than-charitable entry from Matt Kennedy. I've been combing to see if there are any official statements in reaction so far, and the only one I have thus encountered is from Anglican Mainstream. And while there may and should be consequences, I doubt they will look much like the three we see here. Let's address them in turn...and add my own prognostications.

Regarding recommended consequence #1, it will be a mixed bag. Rowan will likely say something. He may indicate that American bishops might be disinvited from Lambeth if he feels like being a hard-ass that day. But that's quite a few years away, and he will not do anything that violates the jurisdictional integrity of American Province, which is TEC. The Primates Meeting will have the strongest reaction and will be sure to unseat Katherine from their counsels. They will issue a strong statement and use whatever weight they have to have America publicly reprimanded, and most the Anglican Communion will officially cut ties with TEC (if they haven't already). The ACC will wobble. The American delegation will show up, the Global South delegations will move to have them excluded, but like last time (when section 4 of the Covenant was sliced off from the 2nd Draft) some political maneuvering will occur, causing the Global South to walk out--leaving the ACC, as an official instrument of the Anglican Communion, still "in Communion" with TEC. In short, it will be a mess, and likely halt the Covenant process.

Regarding consequence #2, the Primates meeting will probably give a nod to Communion Partners, not as though that will accomplish much. Many like me are sympathetic to the aims of Communion Partners, but they're not exactly batting down the doors to join. Unless it is seen as the clear Communion response for maintaining ties with the rest of the Communion, it will be seen as ineffectual, political, or some combination of the two. Rowan might push to create some new structure with Communion Partners as its base. But without the support of the ACC (as essentially a TEC "colony" within the Anglican Communion) and the antagonism the Primates' Meeting is likely to cause, it will be a long slog to come up with something functional. Again, look for no help from afar.

Regarding consequence #3, the Primates will heartily endorse the ACNA as the "new Province" in North America. Rowan will reject this and uphold TEC as the official American Province, as will the ACC. And no one from TEC or ACNA will be invited to Lambeth, punishing us both as the errant children we are.

Of course, miracles do happen...Maranatha!

The Irony of Valuing Unity

Just recently, a meeting of Global South Anglicans produced a document in which they uphold ACNA and Communion Partners as the two official ways they recommend maintaining ties of intercommunion with Anglicans in North America. It's kind of funny. ACNA was formed as a means of maintaining a "pure" expression of faith (sounds like every other church split since the Reformation, heck since 1054 when Rome and Byzantium split). Yet they are not formally recognized by the Anglican Communion. At the same time, TEC maintains official recognition in the Anglican Communion, yet most in power have espoused and actively endorsed actions that are clearly against the mind of the Communion and at significant variance with traditional Christian faith and practice.

The Global South represents the statistical majority of active Anglican adherents and have come into their own within the last 25 years as faithful, dynamic leaders of the Church. But it is with broad brushstrokes and curious blindness that the document they released paints a vision of unity and faithfulness that are willing to embrace.

I suppose the appeal to the Communion Partners was supposed to be a way of endorsing recognition for those in TEC who remain faithful to traditional Christian orthodoxy. Yet, that is a somewhat faulty proposition. First, they aren't really an organization or "party" as much as they are a loose affiliation of bishops (and rectors now?) who have signed onto certain documents affirming a more interdependent life within the Anglican Communion, but with little real effect. Second, supporting Communion Partners is either superfluous (especially in places like the diocese of Central Florida) or something that requires too much political capital for the faithful to muster (in places like Los Angeles, or even Pittsburgh, which is still healing from the re-alignment).

To me, unity is a first order priority. Jesus prayed that we would be one as he and the Father are one. Unfortunately, (and with all due deference to my Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic friends) there is no church has never split. So I see TEC's formal ties to the Anglican Communion in a positive light. So it is distressing to me when, on the one hand, some Christians leave and form their own church, and on the other hand, other Christians renege on promises they made to their fellow brothers and sisters (and it doubly hurts when those Christians seem to be the ones "in charge").

I think the Global South is justified in decrying TEC's continued impertinence, because those actions show a tendency towards schismatic thinking. But they are also shortsighted in rewarding ACNA (who are, frankly, equally as schismatic--they formed their own new church!). They are also shortsighted in looking to Communion Partners, as currently constituted, as a viable entity through which to relate to Episcopalians who are faithful in heartfelt belief and practice to the shared doctrine, prayer, ethics, and mission of the wider Communion. It's almost like saying, "Your continued faithfulness isn't enough, you have to do something more than the rest of us Anglicans elsewhere do to prove you are truly Anglican." It's a double-standard.

That's why I like the Anglican Covenant--we all have to sign it, and it has enough teeth to pinch the hands of those who sign it with the their fingers crossed. I only wish there was some provision--and protection--for dioceses, parishes, and individuals who sign on to it yet remain in bodies (Provinces, dioceses, parishes) which may not endorse it, in order that the fullest possible unity might be maintained. I guess there's no place for those who place a high value on unity in any church anymore.

Meandering Thoughts on the Event of the Glasspool Consents

The Rev. Mary Glasspool, a partnered non-celibate lesbian priest, was elected by the Diocese of Los Angeles back in December to be their Suffragan Bishop. The Episcopal News Service, has announced that she has received the necessary number of consents from bishops and standing committees to move ahead with her consecration on May 5. This has severe ramifications in terms of further strain on our relationships within the Anglican Communion and, to a lesser extent, our ecumenical partners. There are both enough soap boxes condemning and toasts celebrating this event. But in reality, I do not think it will change things too much.

Why not?
1) She's not going to be a bishop with jurisdiction. She won't be at the Queen's Tea at Lambeth. She won't be making the hot and heavy decisions at House of Bishops meetings.

2) We already broke the mold with Gene Robinson. All told, this election was pretty much under the radar. No one is really surprised; there's no shock value, just grins on the left and head-shaking on the right.

3) It is a symptom of the larger problem of disunity that has largely existed since the inception of the Episcopal Church. This is a fact of history. After the Revolution, the Church of England was not really interested in keeping any formal connection with the colonial churches she birthed. It was only through the tireless efforts of people Samuel Seabury and Anglicans in Scotland that made it possible for us not to be Presbyterians, Congregationalists, or Methodists by default. Americans don't like being an equal (and never less important) partner. After the revolution, we ran our Church and kept our nose out of other national Churches' business as long as they left us alone. As the revivals of the 19th Century and new impetus for world missions was gaining momentum, we were in the front lines, heading up the charge--especially in Latin America and Asia. In the late 19th and early 20th Century, when ecumenical fever swept our hearts, we were leading the movement. Again, as the Church became more socially charged in its spirituality after the 1960s, we considered ourselves leaders, pioneers in justice. And that is what informs our actions--independence.

But the world is changing. Global Christianity's vibrant center is now in Africa and Southeast Asia, not the West. And we really aren't world leaders anymore, as developing nations have come into their own. So when ideas like the Covenant come along--an idea we aren't leading in or originating--we fold our arms and harrumph like the kid who normally gets picked first being passed over for the new neighborhood superstar. We want to take our ball and bat and go home. So passive-aggressive nose-thumbing is the order of the day until we grow up and learn what unity in the Body of Christ is all about now that almost 250 years have passed.

Sermon: March 14, 2010

The Greatest Universal Hero (Lent 4C)

When I was a kid, I used to love watching the Greatest American Hero. Ralph a teacher with a group of students on a desert field trip is given a suit by aliens in order to save the world. Of course, he loses the instructions in the desert, and the silliness ensues as he learns to use the suit by trial and error to fight the bad guys.

People have all sorts of heroes for all sorts of reasons. A Harris Poll from 2009 listed Barak Obama, Jesus Christ, Martin Luther King, Ronald Reagan, and George W. Bush as the top five. Jesus dropped from first place, which he held in the 2001 survey, but God, as a separate answer from Jesus, actually entered the list at #11 from not being listed before. Some of the reasons people gave of what makes someone a hero are:

Doing what is right regardless of personal consequences.
Not giving up until the goal is accomplished.
Willingness to risk personal safety to help others.
Changing society for the better.

When we consider our Lord Jesus, we see these very qualities manifest as if in bright neon lights.

And for myself personally—maybe this is because I read too many comic books growing up—I see a hero as someone who swoops in to make the dramatic rescue just in the nick of time. And that is something our lessons have in common. The God who loves us, does whatever it takes to come to the rescue—whether it’s rescue from desert wandering, rescue from our own twisted self-interest, or rescue from the sins that so easily beset us.

When Joshua brings Israel over the Jordan, they put their past behind them. No more Egypt. No more desert. They celebrate the Passover, and from then on eat from the produce of the Promised Land. God rescued them from the misery of slavery. God delivered them from the disgrace of their parents’ unfaithfulness in the desert. God opened the door to their obtaining, finally, the promise first announced to Abraham hundreds of years earlier. But it was rough and winding road getting there.

Many of us have had times of wandering, times of doubt, times of disgrace, times of complaining to God with a less-than-perfect trust in him. St John of the Cross, in his classic mystical work, The Dark Night of the Soul, notes that in our quest to grow closer to Christ, we might encounter times when God’s love and presence seem absent. It seems like our Lord has forsaken us, abandoned us. Even the comfort of our devotions—prayer, worship, eucharist—can flee away. But the stripping away of these modest rewards is meant as a means of driving us to the virtue of loving God for himself. So God may remove these side benefits, because they have grown to distract us from God. The point of any spiritual exercise is less about any peace, satisfaction, or ecstasy that may result. The point is to grow to genuinely love God for who he is. So when the Lord rescues us, bringing us across a spiritual Jordan from those desert times, we begin to experience viscerally once again the attending goodness of pursuing God. We can genuinely rejoice for the Giver and not just the gifts.

The two sons of the generous father in Jesus’ famous parable, in a more pronounced way than the pious mystic St John of the Cross, experience a similar struggle. Whereas in the Dark Night of the Soul, we have already been seeking to love God wholeheartedly, the two brothers, in much too familiar ways, choose the gifts over the Giver. The younger brother is brash—asking for his share of the inheritance, running away, squandering it, then humbly returning when he realizes what a mess of his life he made. The older brother is self-righteous—feeling cheated when his father throws a party for his returning brother. Both brothers have issues. As Tim Keller in his recent book The Prodigal God puts it:

Jesus uses the younger and elder brothers to portray the two basic ways people try to find happiness and fulfillment: the way of moral conformity and the way of self-discovery. Each acts as a lens coloring how you see all of life, or as a paradigm shaping your understanding of everything. Each is a way of finding personal significance and worth, of addressing the ills of the world, and of determining right from wrong.

So both brothers got it wrong; they were looking to themselves. The younger brother sought to redefine the rule book and returned a broken man with empty pockets. The elder brother stayed and did everything by the book, biding his time till when the old man would die and he would get everything that was left—only to have those plans dashed when his brother returned and was welcomed back with full perks.

The younger brothers among us attempt to impose their own rules on the world, only to have the world chew them up and spit them out. The elder brothers among us attempt to impose their own desires on the rules in a kind of spiritual arm-twisting contest, only to find their plans dashed on the Rock of Ages who is crazy about forgiving people. Neither of them sought to have their happiness center on their relationship with their father at the beginning. The younger brother finally has a change of heart, but the last time we see the elder brother, we are left with him fuming at his father.

Jesus wants us to move beyond the self-centered attempts to pursue happiness we see in these two sons. Neither hippy-style hedonism nor holier-than-thou histrionics will bring us closer to happiness. We are only most truly happy when we have made our home in Christ. God needs to be foremost in our affections, aspirations, contemplations, decisions, and daily actions. And that takes humility enough to acknowledge we aren’t what it’s all about, and repentance enough to recognize our need for the Holy Spirit to come and set things right.

Graciously, God is committed to the ministry of reconciliation. God wants to remove the barriers that stand between us and him. Our loving Father deeply desires to restore a loving relationship where we freely receive his love, and we freely love him and others out the overflow of that love. And considering the depth of disorder in our hearts and lifestyles, that means reconciliation requires not simply a stamp of approval, or even just a clean slate. Reconciliation necessitates a completely new life. St. Paul’s calls this the “new creation.” When Jesus talked to Nicodemus, he talked about being “born again.” And this is all language we find connected with baptism. It’s resurrection language. We are buried with Christ and risen with him by faith. A new being. A new person. A new heart.

But what about the myriad of people who are drizzled with water from the font and there seems to be no change? Two realities are going on. God’s grace is there—
God is doing the work, and the lack of human agency makes God no less present, nor less active, in extending his grace to us. But any extension of grace from God must be activated by the faith of the person to whom it is given. Recently, the Breens gave me a gift certificate for my birthday for a meal at the Inn at Georgian Place. Now with all the wonderful new things about settling in, meeting new people, and generally trying to get into a consistent groove, I have been waiting to use it. Is the gift certificate rightfully mine? Absolutely. Will it do me any good until I take it to the Inn? Not in the slightest. Similarly, to be reconciled to God, we need to “activate” that gift by faith.

Additionally, just like any gift of God, we have the responsibility to share that gift with others. God took the initiative first, sending Jesus as an “ambassador” from heaven. Then Jesus sent the disciples, who themselves passed on the joyful obligation of being ministers of reconciliation down to us. Now this shouldn’t be a challenge for us in terms of motivation. As we receive God’s love, and then learn to love him back, we begin to grow in our desire to show that same love with others—each of us in our own way. We have been wired with different personalities, equipped with special talents, and placed in a variety of relationships by God’s sovereign hand. As we grow in our understanding of what God has given us and among whom God has guided our steps, we learn to see where God is at work, and join him with our unique way of sharing the Good News of the Kingdom. Some of us are hands-on. Some of us are creative. Some of us are good listeners. The ways we interact with others to bring the light of Christ are as many as there are people who love Jesus. As Jesus has rescued us, so he sends us to tell others that their rescue is at hand.

Our Lord Jesus Christ is the Greatest Universal Hero. He rescues us from being too focused on the gift instead of the Giver through those times of deep shadow we sometimes walk in life. He sets us free from our misguided plans and self-centered attitudes, to find our greatest joy in him. He breaks the power of cancelled sin, reconstructing a relationship with us that motivates us to share such an amazing experience with others. I can’t account for why people choose the heroes they do. But I can stand before you this morning and declare—Jesus is my hero! If you claim Jesus as your hero, or if you would like to, I invite you pray with me…

Abba Father, through our Lord Jesus Christ you heroically rescued us—making us new creations who share a new relationship with you; so guide our hearts to earnestly seek after you when we’re in the dark places, to find our greatest happiness in you when we have lost our way, and to faithfully receive and proclaim the reconciliation you extend to us by your Spirit. This we ask for the sake of your love and glory. Amen.

Church Vitality

Recently some leaders in my church and I were at a meeting with other church leaders in our diocese who are "kind of" nearby. It was the first such meeting in about 10 years, and it was great to be able to catch up on news together, meet with one another, and be inspired for ministry. Yet, I was also scared as one my parishioners said wonderful things about me. I embarrass easily, and everything that was said caused someone else to say, "No pressure," in a tongue-in-cheek way. Took the words right out of my mouth. Please pray for me.

That being said, I am going to pitch to the Vestry looking into Natural Church Development. I have seen it work in other churches and it is based on good theological and universally testable foundations. The basic idea is to focus on quality and allow the Holy Spirit take care of quantity. I have high hopes for St Francis, as much as they have high hopes for me. But even more, I think we both have high hopes in the promises of a loving God who is the Ultimate Evangelist himself.

Hit the Reset Button

Okay, so I've been off the blogosphere for a while. I am hoping to hit the reset button with more success than American foreign policy has. Happy amidst. the mounds of snow in Somerset, PA here in the rectory of St. Francis-in-the-Fields. As are my wife Kelly and our two beagles. Here's to more fun in the near future!