For those that are readers, this essay represents a small shift in the blog.  I am going to endeavor over the next few posts to delve into some sources from our tradition, at some length, to explore core elements of our doctrinal and theological inheritance as Anglicans.  I think one of the great challenges of the Church right now is that we have overlooked the importance of sound theology and it would be a good thing for there to be a few places where the riches of our tradition were being explored and mined for enduring truths.

This does mean that I will post with less frequency and probably with less intensity about the issues of the day – but I hope these next few posts (which will be somewhat longer) will provide some new avenues for discussion and engagement with our tradition.

One of the real shocks in the recent contretemps over Baptism and Communion was the paucity of much of the Eucharistic theology of the Church.  The position papers that were put together by various dioceses and working groups were almost scandalous in their utter abandonment of anything that resembled the Eucharistic theology that we have inherited from both the Reformed and Catholic branches of the Church.

One of the chief oversights in much of the discussion was the nature of the Eucharistic sacrifice.  I heard lots and lots of meal language, fellowship chatter, and radical welcome talk, but I heard perilously little about the nature of the Eucharist itself – that it has, at its heart, a sacrificial character that is participated in by those who receive.  We take part both in the sacrifice and in being offered as one Body.

I remembered a solid book I read by Anglican theologian Darwell Stone called, “The Eucharistic Sacrifice.” It is actually a collection of sermons from 1919 that examine the nature of Christ’s sacrifice and our union with Christ in that self-offering.

I am glad to be back from vacation and sufficiently recovered from the beginning of our program year to resume writing a bit.

In a meeting some time ago, I was asked what traits I thought would behoove the Church to look for in potential new ordinands. Rather than entrepreneurial, forward-thinking, flexible, or the many other qualities that are desirable in any new employee, I think the Church is best served by finding men and women of the Altar – men and women who see the whole of their ministry offered in the life-giving exchange of the Eucharist.

I pointed out that there are many ways one can serve. There are many ways one can care for people. There are many ways to do social work, therapy, social service, and the many other good and caring ways in which we minister to the hurting and the lost. A priest though has one role, one function, to offer the Sacraments. All of our other roles – teaching, healing, preaching, and more flow from the Altar.  More broadly this is the whole ministry of the Church, which is His Body – we offer the means for men and women to find themselves in the Presence of the Holy One.

The response of a colleague was telling – she said, “well you are a sacramental priest – so that makes sense for you. We need to be thinking of other ways to be priests too.” I could not disagree more.

The Church is only the Church insofar as it offers the Sacraments with meek heart and due reverence. It seems to me that in the conversations about restructuring the Church, or a missional Church, or the many other ways we can imagine the Church changing that we are losing the simple fact that we first and foremost offer the Sacraments. If one visits the Episcopal Church’s website and clicks on “What We Do” you will not find the Sacraments. They are certainly listed under “What we Believe” but they are not just what we believe – they are what we do, who we are, how we are meant to be, and what we are called to be more of.

We are initiated in baptism, fed in the Eucharist, express our devotion in confirmation, find forgiveness in confession, seek healing in anointing, embrace love in marriage, and some seek new forms of service in ordination. The sacraments walk us through the life cycle, drawing us to God and back to God and home to God. They are the foundation of ministry and unify the faithful in grace. The administration of the Sacraments cannot be unwoven from our pastoral function, nor from our teaching function, nor from social justice for it is through them that we are healed, united, and learn of God’s mercies.

In our conversations about the life of the Church, I think we would do well to think of the bishops’ office not as an administrative or managerial one but again as a Sacramental one.  We would be well served by ordering our life along the lines of Eucharistic Servanthood.

The Bishop lies at the center of our Eucharistic life and welcomes us into the apostolic band through the laying on of hands. The Church might benefit from an increased focus on our unity through the Sacraments with the bishops rather than viewing them through a power-politics informed adversarial lens (as seemed to happen too often at General Convention). Moreover, the bishops themselves would benefit from understanding their role through the traditional lens of Sacramental leadership rather than that of managerial acumen. Our priestly ministry is an extension of the bishop’s. Our Altars are extensions of the bishop’s Altar.

The elevation of elected bishops is described by Hippolytus. He writes “All shall keep silence, praying in their hearts for the descent of the Spirit; after which one of the bishops present, being asked by all, shall lay his hand on him who is being ordained bishop and pray…” Obviously, we have a reference to what we would now understand as the laying on of hands and the succession of bishops. The role of the bishop is described in sacrificial, Eucharistic terms and his or her role and that of the rest of the church order are ordained by God; “You gave the ordinances in the Church through the word of your grace; you foreordained from the beginning a race of righteous men from Abraham, you appointed princes and priests, and did not leave your sanctuary without a ministry.”  The bishop is the center of the sacramental life of their diocese with the priests assisting them in the administration of those sacraments. Our unity is found in this sacramental charge. Like priests, the bishop’s identity is rooted in the Sacramental life of the Body.

God is enjoined to help his new bishop “…to feed your holy flock and to exercise the high-priesthood before you blamelessly, serving night and day; to propitiate your countenance unceasingly, and to offer to you the gifts of your holy Church; and by the spirit of high-priesthood to have the power to forgive sins…” The central role of the bishop, in Hippolytus’ work, is as a Eucharistic servant through whose auspices the Eucharistic unity of the church is promoted and preserved. Our role as priests is to stand in unity with and for the bishop as pastor of congregations under his or her leadership, strengthening and empowering a spirit of mutuality, ever-sharing in joys and sorrows.

The simplest lines of this service of consecration offer insight as to Hippolytan unity. “Then the deacons shall present the offering to him; and he, laying his hands on it with all his presbytery shall give thanks…” Hippolytus writes. The offering is physically presented unto the new bishop and he, with all his priests, gives thanks. This act of the Eucharist is the very first action of the newly seated bishop. Once thanks has been given the bishop declares the power of Christus Victor who “destroyed death” and was able to “break the bonds of the devil.”

After this declaration, at the beginning of the service, the new bishop gives thanks that “you [the congregants] have held us worthy to stand before you and minister to you.” This passage is powerful in that it announces thanks and demonstrates humility at the beginning of the Eucharist for the trust of the congregants in the newly consecrated bishop. Surely this act of humility, as part of the Eucharist, demonstrates unity and reciprocity of service and obedience in the Hippolytan vision. Moreover it clearly indicates shared responsibility for the life of the community and reminds us that our ministry comes from our shared adoration of Christ in the sacraments as the whole church.

In the work of Cyprian, we find a different conception of church unity. Unity, for Cyprian, is a matter of protecting the ecclesiology of the church. Where unity for Hippolytus rests on baptism and the Eucharistic celebration, Cyprian states “…in order to make unity manifest, he arranged by his own authority that this unity should, from the start, take its beginning from one man.” Cyprian goes on to ask, “Can one who does not keep this unity of the Church believe that he keeps the faith?”  

As priests, we share in the work of promoting unity. Moreover, we also strive to claim authority while at the same time sharing it. Our authority is not derived from hierarchy but from a form of democratic centralism that rests with the community of believers living missional lives inspired by the work of the Holy Spirit and united in the Sacraments. This is a Church that in its unity can spread “far and wide” yet remain as the sun with “many rays but one light.” 

The glory of the unified church is “the light everywhere diffused in one light” while the unity of the church is “unbroken.” Cyprian states that Christ commanded love and unity and asks “But what sort of unity, what sort of love, is preserved or contemplated by the mad fury of discord that rends the Church, destroys faith, disturbs peace, scatters charity, profanes religion?” As a Sacramental Body, we are to do the difficult work of preserving the unity of the Church not for the sake of the church but for the sake of His Body.

This is not to make an idol of church unity but a call to struggle to make the Church a symbol of Christ’s love and God’s saving will. Cyprian’s vision of the Church can be summed up in the exhortation “There is one God and one Christ and one Church and one faith and one people fastened together into a solid corporate unity by the glue of concord. The unity cannot be rent, nor can the one body be divided by breaking up its structure; it cannot be broken into fragments by tearing and mangling the flesh.” It is unity held fast in God’s love.

The love of one another is the response to God’s love for us in Christ and in creation. It is the love of Christ poured out on the cross that provides our model for prayer and engagement in the world. That love is modeled for us not only in Christ, but in the work of the saints as well who by their offering of themselves demonstrate the indiscriminate love of the cross. They represent the church at her best – they are the Church we are called to be.

This kind of love is found in the Eucharistic life of the Church. Is there any act more radically democratic – calling us to shared self-giving – than the Eucharist? It is a point at which all take part in the divine and all people know that God loved them enough to make the sacrifice and to restore humanity in the fullness of time when we will share “a feast of rich food and a feast of well-aged wines.” (Is. 25.6) It is a point at which we truly experience creatio simpliciter and gain a sense of the preciousness of our inheritance in the abundance of God and Christ.

In those moments, in fervent prayer together, we are provided a glimpse of the Christian defiance of the viciousness of the status quo. How can we, looking to the Lord present while being “transformed into the same image” (II Cor. 3.18), not recognize that the pain of others pierces God? If God abides in us and we are to abide in that love (John 15.4a, 9), then hardness of heart and blindness to suffering are profound sins against the indwelling God and we are called to offer solace and comfort – to offer word of God’s Presence. We stand in persona Christi and in persona ecclesiae together with those in distress.

At the altar rail, we are transformed in joy and judgment into the Church. Our joy is unity and we are judged as we are called to ever more loving service. We share with all believers in a line of priests, prophets, martyrs, and saints. We share in the councils and witness of the church and take up the call of Christ to share in living Sacramental witness to God’s redeeming love.

This post is a bit longer than most – I suppose that since I am heading off for a month of vacation I felt a bit verbose.

One of the things I have been struck by in the conversations about General Convention and the Episcopal Church is the energy we spend on what we think about being the Body rather than what we do that makes us the Body. I would argue that the works of justice that we advocate for are part of our life as the Body. I would also argue that a firmness in doctrine is also required to bind us together as the Body. Neither justice nor the quest to articulate our relationship to the Triune God are indifferent matters. We seem eager to create ghettos – to carve out homogeneous and pure bodies within the Body who are doing it just right with our own slang and in-talk. Jesus is so lucky to have us.

I have found that this exercise has emphasized that which we have always struggled with as Anglicans – uniformity of belief. Throughout our history we have navigated the Catholic and Reformed strains and struggled with the melding of politics and religion. Through all of this, we have maintained our identity through common worship. We have prayed together, broken bread together, and listened to one another with a common language, with a common prayer.

It may sound nonsensical or naive but I truly think the most crucial task for the Church is not growth, justice, discipleship, survival, nor restructuring. The most crucial task facing the Church is worship. We must strive anew for a way of being the Body together. The world’s, and the Church’s, desperate need now is for that expanded awareness of the presence of God – the enlarging of the Eucharistic action to encompass relationships that desperately need healing, hearts that are broken, hopes that are shattered, memories that are fraught with pain, and even nations that seem lost.

The Incarnation has sanctified the whole of creation. Adoring God made known to us in the flesh of man opens us to sharing in his love for all of humanity. One part of the Eucharistic action is that we are made one with Christ – not so that we are made ever more privately holy – but so that we can approach the world around us as ever more blessed – ever more worthy of love and thanksgiving because it is beloved of God.

“Do this in remembrance” was not a command given so that we would remember any one earthly event. “Do this in remembrance” is commanded that we might know where our true hope and glory lie.

Through the Sacraments, prayer, thanksgiving, and adoration we are drawn ever more to the source of our peace – that place where we can dwell and know that we are the beloved of God. Where we are held by the Good Shepherd – are branches of the vine – may drink of the Living Water – dwell within the refuge – be protected by a mighty warrior whose name is Yahweh. In all of these images, God longs to be with us and protect us, for all eternity, in a way that no one image can capture. It is this God that we come before in praise and thanksgiving.

Ultimately our hope and our salvation and our joy are not found in the worries of the day – nor even in the answers we find to those everyday worries. Our joy comes when we can surrender and know the hope of things eternal – when we see the totality of our life as the Body as bound to the eternity of God.

The liturgy is the expression of the Body’s questing for unity with the Divine in the person of Jesus Christ. In its use of pattern, connection, arrangement, movement, and varying celebrations of more and less significance. Its mirror of life is natural for it reflects the lived and living experience of a Body. Gregory Dix cites S. Augustine in writing, “The spiritual benefit which is there understood is unity, that being joined to His Body and made His members we may be what we receive.” We receive not simply the sacramental grace of the Body and Blood but become that Body. Moreover, we become a constitutive part of the passion narrative as we take on the form and incorporate the meaning of offering and sacrifice. Meaning and order are mediated by the reality we take in at the Eucharist so that we become not so much pattern-seeking but become part of the very pattern of the divine order – we become the Body.

The individual is ill-equipped to search for meaning or form in isolation. I would broaden this to individual parishes, denominations, and Churches. We need one another. The liturgical enactment of the community mediates the ebbs and flows of personal perception of and receptivity to divine love. The action of the Eucharist is not simply a recitation or re-creation of history but a process of creation of new living meaning within the Body of the faithful. The ebbs and flows of individual perception are moderated and mediated in the corporate action of worship. Gregory Dix claims, “As the anamnesis of the passion, the eucharist is perpetually creative of the church, which is the fruit of that passion.” New meaning is found and incorporated as the community enacts the liturgy together so that the individual is not left adrift in wonderment, but is drawn ever deeper into the realization of divine promise – we are woven into the pattern.

Our participation in the life of the Holy brings about a kind of cognitive dissonance in which we recognize that our imperfections and those of the world around us may be brought into greater harmony with the divine. Moreover, we gain a sensitivity to those things which are out of balance in ourselves and the world around us as we are exposed to patterns of holiness and divine love. The individual can fail in apprehension when they discern the essence of Holy Communion either to be too individual an affair or too global. Without understanding the convicting power of the Sacrament, they are not truly coming into the realization of the divine order that is promised nor the sacrifice that is called for.

The call to properly discern is part of the mission of the Church at large and is essential to the edification of its members. Dix states, “the idea of the Holy Communion as a purely personal affair, which concerns only those persons who feel helped by such things…is nothing less than the atomizing of the Body of Christ.” Worship can never be a personal affair, nor can true religion. Worship which loses sight of the totality of creation, of our relationships, of the world around us, ceases to be worship and becomes another form of individual therapy. We are called to worship, to the work of adoration, which is necessarily not an act of self-regard but of oblation and self-giving. The model for this oblation is, of course, Christ and we enter into that oblation as a community which discerns the Body and seeks its restoration.

This oblation of self is taught in the unfolding of the Eucharist. In the actions of offering and breaking, we see the model of self-giving enacted and re-enacted and we are provided the grace of the Sacrament so as to be empowered to do likewise and to be so offered and willing to offer. This experience is brought about by an encounter with the Christ of heaven and earth. The Christian, with this model of self-offering, enters the memorial action that has been repeated across time and space and makes his or herself one with the sacrifice once offered and passes into the loving and guiding hand of God.

It is the perpetual dying of the person and the perpetual new life in Christ that is made possible by the action of the Spirit and in the memory and action of the community. This new experience of life and potential are mediated by Christ for he is the center of the action and memory of the community.

Any human advancement that is made by the Church must be an advance in our understanding of the life and death of Christ. This revelation of our life in and with Christ not only calls us to ever-offer that which we are to that which we may be, but also, paradoxically, affirms the value of humans to God. As objects of divine love, we are called to closer and deeper relationship to God through Christ. The men and women of the Church are an offering that is acceptable in the sight of God. It is in the striving to be worthy of offering and the yearning for holiness that the nexus of the divine-human relationship is found – in that moment when our sacrifice is joined to Christ’s.

If we celebrate the mystery of the Incarnation in the Mass – how do we look upon God’s children with anything less than love and adoration?

If we adore the Body of Christ – how do we then condone torture done in our name?

If we participate in the memorial of Christ’s sacrifice – how do we allow so many around us to be sacrificed to the zeal of nations or plots of terror?

If we glory in the Resurrection – how do we condemn others to the grave in our hearts?

If we ask for forgiveness for thoughts, words, and deeds – how do we then turn our minds to hate?

If we anticipate his coming again with power and glory – how do we allow the use of power to be glorified?

If we present an offering and sacrifice to God for his use – how do we allow our wealth to be used to degrade those around us?

If we anticipate that heavenly country – how do we allow the one around us to be lost to anger and despair?

If we know, are drawn to, are called by Christ made present on the altar – how can we surrender to despair?

In other words, worship feeds justice. Justice flows naturally from true adoration.  The Church, to be the Church, must offer both with passion and joy.

Robert+

This post has a couple of updates on items of note I have written about recently…

An Endorsement

Fr David Simmons has put out a great endorsement of the Revd Frank Logue for President of the House of Deputies whom he has known for 14 years. He writes, “Frank offers a formidable intellect, a pastoral heart, a listening ear and a real can-do spirit to the House. Considering the challenges that are being laid down by the Committee on Structure, I believe Frank is eminently qualified to lead the house during this time of great transition.”

On Progress

Dr Derek Olsen put up a post today about the movement at General Convention.  He especially focuses on Holy Women, Holy Men and Communion Regardless of Baptism.  Of the second he writes, “Nobody wants to see a communion rail lock-down; that’s just silly. What needs to be avoided, though, is any sense that Baptism is somehow optional. If we invite any and all to the Eucharist then we have precisely made Baptism optional. That’s not a pastoral practice, that’s deliberately turning our backs on the theology of the Prayer Book and the consistent witness of the Church up until the late 20th century.”

He adds, “What I would love to see in any discussion of pastoral discretion with regard to CWOB is the word ‘individual.’ The message that the resolution would send, then, is to say that pastoral discretion may be warranted in specific individual and unusual circumstances. A general call to any and all is not pastoral—nor is it evangelism; rather, it salves the consciences of those who want to see themselves as inclusive, but who don’t want to do the work of setting healthy boundaries and inviting all comers within those boundaries through the proper protocols (i.e., Baptism with water in the name of the Triune God).”

Church Structure Updates

Fr David Sibley posted a draft of the omnibus resolution on church structure.  This sounds dull but represents potential for a renewed focus on evangelism, mission, and ministry.  Of particular note is this, that the gathering to consider structure “shall include from each diocese a bishop, a lay deputy, a clergy deputy, and a person under 40.” Thanks to those such as the Revd Canon Amy Real Coultas, the Church will include these younger voices in any deliberations about our future structure.

On a New Oxford Movement

Not long ago, I put together a piece on the need for a New Oxford Movement.  It has gotten some great responses and we have begun generating ideas for how to bring this to life.  Among the responses is one that I thought particularly worth noting as the author raises several great points to consider.  Perhaps my favorite section is this, 

‎”What I’m specifically reacting against here is whatever the hell it is that makes people think that when I say “anglo-catholic” what I really mean is that I like smells and bells. On the one hand it’s a reduction of “catholic” to subjective aesthetic preference — “Oh, you just like high liturgy” — and it’s not even connected to theology or ecclesiology on the other. And anglo-catholics buy right into this with so many petty discussions about the intricacies of liturgy and robes and how many times to shake a thurible. Not that high liturgy is bad, obviously, or that low church is actually praiseworthy, but it’s such an incredibly narrow vision of the catholic. Also think of certain austere monastic orders that live a simple life and perform simple prayers and liturgies. We would never suggest they “aren’t catholic.”

It is well worth the full read and comment!

Robert+

I have been trying to follow without following too closely the discussions at General Convention.  I generally apply the same measured interest in considering these sorts of things that C.S. Lewis offered about demons.  He said there are two strains that are dangerous, “One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.”

However, I have to say that there have been some healthy and encouraging developments in this convention thusfar.

First, we have an opportunity to elect someone as President of the House of Deputies that, I believe, has some experience that makes him a very attractive candidate.  The Revd Frank Logue announced that he will accept nomination to run for the post.  I love the idea of having someone with church planting experience in our leadership.  At a time when our focus is too often on failure and decay, Frank has planted a successful and thriving congregation, King of Peace.  Not long ago I wrote on how understanding the Episcopal Church as needing replanting could be beneficial to our dialogue and mission.  This is an opportunity to elect a leader that brings that real life experience to bear as we face daunting challenges and questions.  He seems forward looking, grounded, and capable.

The other development I was heartened by was the rejection the call to change our Church’s canons to allow Communion without Baptism.  Now that the wider Church has spoken on this, I am sure we can expect a wave of parishes and priests to change their practice so as to obey the doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Episcopal Church.  Or not.  Regardless, I think it is a vital affirmation of both the Reformed and Catholic strains of our heritage and a demonstration that we remain marked by our baptisms as heirs of the Kingdom.  By this vote we can continue to teach, as a Church, that Baptism is not suggested or encouraged but is vital to our life in Christ – a life nourished ever after by the Eucharist.

Other developments are of interest.  For example, the call to sell 815 Second Avenue as our Church headquarters is one that will stir lots of conversation about how we serve God’s mission in the future at the general Church level.  I continue to wonder if sharing the space in Chicago that the ELCA uses as its headquarters makes sense as we seek new ways to live into our Full Communion relationship.  Holy Women, Holy Men will continue to be revised and used on a trial basis.  The issues with it are manifold and I hope they can be ironed out over time.

Finally, of interest to me, has been the proposal of a resolution to require that any new body created to look at restructuring the Church should have no fewer than 1/3 of its membership comprised of those under 40 years of age.  I think this is a hugely important step for the Church.  As we are talking about creating the Church of the future, those voices are critical to understanding the faith lives of those we seek to draw to Christ.  The overall tenor of the convention seems to be marked by a commitment to change and new life and a recognition that we need to get creative and draw on new voices.

There are other signs that are less encouraging (the shift in our understanding of Confirmation, the generally anti-clerical tone of some of the deliberations, and of course very real budget woes) and yet I remain hopeful that we are reaching a moment in the life of the Church in which we seek not just survival but to thrive by blending that which is richest in our tradition with innovation and flexibility.  A sign of this might be the Acts 8 movement.  As I listened to some of its participants talk about their dreams for the Church, I was encouraged.  Now the task is to not simply dream but to make sure we awake and bring those dreams to life.

Robert+

There has been much coming out of General Convention.  I was, frankly, deeply frustrated by the opening address of the President of the House of Deputies.  As the Church struggles to renew its common life she seems to be too taken with the language and meme of perpetual revolution.  Rather than taking the opportunity to help us find new and shared hope she articulated a divisive view of the Church and a dated understanding of the nature of power and relationship.

One of the deputies to Convention, Steve Pankey, shared the following reflection that I think summarizes much of the difficulty in the current discourse.

The 77th General Convention started to rev up yesterday.  Legislative Committees had several hours worth of meetings, deputies and bishops were oriented, and the Presiding Bishop and the President of the House of Deputies both offered opening remarks.  During the PHoD’s speech, I began to realize the fullness of our problem.  I tweeted “I’m realizing that the PHoD and I live in two different worlds. Her’s informs mine, but the foundations are fundamentally different.”

She, and many like her, had their lives profoundly shaped by the struggle for equality in the 1960s and 70s.  Out of those struggles, many boomers developed two very strong identities (broad brush warning).  Some are fighters: they continue to seek out problems that are in need of solutions, especially in areas of equality.  Others are guilt carriers: they continue to emote the guilt that comes with realizing one’s privilege at the expense of millions who carried the full burden it took to create that privilege.  Some, I’m guessing the PHoD falls into this category, carry both identities with in them.

I grew up in the excesses of the 1980s and 90s.  Bubble economies, the rise of hip-hop, and the beginnings of digital communities have lead many in my generation to feel disconnected from the guilt-ridden fighting that has come to define so much of the rhetoric in our current debate.  Sure, my world was cushy because of the world that two generations before me struggled to create, but my fundamental identity is not based in social change.  And while I very much appreciate the hard work done by the generations that came before, I’m wondering how long guilt, shame, and partisanship has to rule our discourse?  As I looked at the dais yesterday during orientation, as I realized that the leading candidate to replace the current PHoD and the leading VP candidate were two of the four bodies up there throughout.  I’m thinking that we’ve got at least three more years in this transition.

The Old Testament lesson for Sunday tells us that David was 30 years old when the elders anointed him King over Israel.  Youthful leadership is not something that is without precedent.  It has been lamented all over the internet that there aren’t enough younger people present in the councils of the Church, and I agree.  The problem is that we have made leadership roles all but impossible for those who still have to work a day-to-day job to make ends meet.  How can we bring more voices to the table?  How can we make sure that one group’s experience doesn’t define our fundamental identity?  How can we enjoy the fullness of who we are, the truth that exists within every believer?  I don’t have the answers at this point, but I’m certain they are out there.

Perhaps a starting place is forgiveness.

I offer you the Prayer for the Mission of The Church (BCP, 816-7)Everliving God, whose will it is that all should come to you through your Son Jesus Christ: Inspire our witness to him, that all may know the power of his forgiveness and the hope of his resurrection; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Find the original here.

Robert+

Since the Reformers, there has been an impulse within Western Christianity to erase particular marks of sacred time and space. The desire ranges from a fierce iconoclasm that sees idolatrous popery as the bane of true religion to a polite bourgeois discomfort with physicality or difference. In contemporary American religion there is also the particularity of our inherited discomfort with anything that resembles hierarchy or appears undemocratic.

Within the Episcopal Church we see these impulses in a variety of places. Watch the distrust of the House of Deputies for the bishops of the Church and you can see that democratic impulse alive and well. Read the justification for Holy Women, Holy Men – everybody is affirmed and the concept of sainthood is redefined as setting a good example. Listen to the debates over Communion and Baptism and you can also hear the discomfort with difference as there seems to be incredulity that we should set any bar, let alone a high one, to participation in sacred mysteries.

This is the point – for many there is no such thing as a sacred mystery anymore. The notion that particular people, places, moments, or things can be set aside as blessed (as different) is increasingly deemed retrograde.

The danger of this sort of liberal Protestantism is that when we cease to see particular moments as communicating something of the divine then we will, eventually and I believe inevitably, cease to see that movement anywhere.

There is a commendable impulse that underlies much of this – the desire to see all of life as sacred and all people as blessed and valued by God. It is and they are! Absolutely!

Yet, we also believe that God is doing something new with people in Baptism. Even if your understanding of the Fall is a muted one there is still some bit of redeeming grace that we expect in that moment. In the Eucharistic feast we expect that God is coming among us is some special way even if Real Presence is a step too far for some.

God does something unique with the common in particular moments. These moments are the means by which we have sure and certain hope – they are the means given to us by Christ for the sanctification of humanity. After them, we are different. We are changed as we become a new creation. We are set aside as we are no longer that which we were.

The concept of holiness necessarily requires a sense of and belief in difference. The Church invites people to a different life – a renewed existence in the Body. The Sacramental life of the Church is the means by which we see and know that God makes use of the simplest of elements to transform our very being. If we can’t articulate this simple fact, that God changes things, then we are left in a profoundly disconcerting theological place for we are left with human device and the limits of reason as the sole measure of God’s action in the world.

Current trends in the Church point toward a revolution of profound and disturbing significance. We no longer seem able or willing to say how it is that God transforms us as individuals and as a Body because we are uncomfortable with difference. The underlying message of the Diocese of Eastern Oregon’s proposal to endorse Communion without Baptism was first that we have failed to bring new people to the Church and second that the failure really isn’t that important because people are fine as they are and not in need of Baptism.

The message of the Church cannot only be “you’re fine as you are.” This kind of undifferentiated affirmation results not in an inclusive community but in a community without an understanding of its own purpose, message, identity, or goal.

I am not advocating that we return to fire and brimstone or rest our teaching on moralizing about private lives but I do think we need to be honest that God is calling us to be different, to change, to be transformed. Christ’s message was not one of affirmation alone but an invitation to die. It was an invitation not to live today as we did yesterday but to know our old selves as dead. This was the invitation of Baptism. This was the difference.

The Church comes together to celebrate Sacred Mysteries. It exists to say the Mass together and share in the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving – in Communion with Christ. It exists to baptize new believers into the Body. It exists to be a Body of reconciliation and forgiveness. It exists to call people into union with one another in Christ. It exists to heal and to offer hope for the life to come.

The Church exists to change us and all those around us in sacred moments by sacred mystery. It exists to make us different – to make us one in Christ.

That difference is expressed in our liturgical seasons, in our rites and Sacraments, in our service in our communities, in our work of love and reconciliation, in our life of prayer, and in our self-sacrifice. A Church which denies difference denies its own calling and fails in its essential witness to bring others to consecrated life.

Understanding ourselves as changed and transformed is not hubris – it is an act of profound humility that recognizes that it is not we ourselves who bear witness to God but Christ living through us.

Just as the common becomes holy on the altar, we creatures become holy at the altar rail. We become another part of the feeding of God’s people even as we are fed. Each Baptism and Communion is part of the striving toward the Kingdom of God, the yearning that echoes in time and memory, and promises that human frailties and fractions can be bound up in the laboring grace of the divine and consecrated to God’s use.

This is the difference.

Baptism prepares us to be servants of God in the world as we are bound together in grace and sustained in love. We receive this grace and become agents of God’s reconciliation in our communities. The peace we receive from Christ is one that is grounded in overflowing abundance even as it demands that we offer all as we serve and thus find perfect freedom.

In Baptism we are different. We are changed. Thanks be to God.

Robert+

Note: I promise I shall return to less fluffy pieces soon!  After a week mixing the sad and the frustrating it seemed an occasion for a bit of a lighter take.

Someone once told me that church geeks, the kind that become clergy for example, are the biggest geeks – they are the geeks that the Dungeons and Dragons kids make fun of.  It’s more than a little true.

One of the best comments I ever saw on a blog was about the Sarum Rite, the commenter said that attempting to recreate the Sarum Rite was like trying to master the rules of Advanced D&D.  In other words, it requires an obsessive attention to detail that only a fellow lover of such obscura will appreciate (and much of the world will find it baffling that so much energy is devoted to the pursuit).

Well, I have always had an appreciation of all things geeky.  I suppose it began with Star Wars – I was the kid that was thrilled with the Grand Moff Tarkin action figure.

I started thinking today about how two of my interests (read geeky obsessions) come together.  What are the lessons of Star Wars for the Church?  What can Yoda, Vader, Tarkin, and more tell us about how to change and adapt?  What are the lessons of the Rebellion’s victory and the Empire’s fall?

1. Meesa wants more: Dumbing things down just doesn’t work.

The complexity of the galactic struggle of the first three Star Wars movies was nearly obliterated by the annoyance that was Jar-Jar.  Those coming back to Star Wars and those new to it were not looking for a bizarre novelty – they were coming back to see Vader and Yoda.  Our great gift as the Church is that we are not the home of grating attempts at entertaining humor.  We have a tried and true core that need not be tarted up with CGI buffoonery.

2. “Named your fear must be before banish it you can.”

Yoda gets it right.  There are lots of things we fear as a Church right now.  The culture is changing.  The church is changing.  Atheism is on the rise.  We are becoming irrelevant.  We are too rigid.  We are too loose.  The Prayer Book is holding us back.  Abandoning the Prayer Book is killing us.  In other words – there is fear in abundance.  Fine.  Name it.  Get it out in the open so we can get on with the work of visioning our future.  We have to be willing to say with honesty those things that are most troubling and feel most threatening.  Only then can we begin to metabolize the fear and let it become a new source of energy.  The rebel culture was one of optimism and hope as opposed to their foe which was motivated by fear and anger.

3. Fear cannot be the motivator.

Yoda knows, fear and anger lead to the dark side.  Yet our own fears cannot be what drives us – we have to trust that God is leading us and the Holy Spirit are present even, and especially, amid our anxieties.  Fear cannot be the means we use to motivate others either.  “Do this or we’ll die” is not exactly the most salient vision statement.  After all, how much did Imperial performance improve after Vader’s serial force chokings of admirals?  Not much.  We have to find our common vision, our common identity, as Anglican Christians.  It was not fear that made Han a hero and a farm boy a Jedi – it was a belief in something greater than fear and larger than themselves.

4. Bigger is not better. 

When those AT-ATs came across the frozen waste of Hoth, they must have been a terror to behold.  Yet out come the rebel ships throwing cables around their legs and down they went.  Death Star? Ditto.  In other words, those big imposing structures and mechanisms we have put together just will not get the job done in this new era.  They are the way and tools of the past.  We have to be willing to take those things apart and build a newer, faster, more nimble force.

5. Agility is the key.

As those larger structures collapse under their own weight or through our own re-working, we have to be agile and responsive.  The culture is moving too fast around us for us to believe that bloated structures built around triennial gatherings will ever respond to the deep needs all around us.  We are only relevant insofar as we are equipped and ready to respond to the communities we are part of.  At every level we have to be moving quickly and anticipating rather than just reacting.  Insulated centralized structures will always be a step behind a networked but creatively trained and mobile forces with a shared hope.

6. Mentoring not just training

How do you think stormtroopers were trained?  I don’t imagine that their drills stressed creativity or new thinking.  The rebels, on the other hand, probably had a formal training program that was a mess.  They were ragtag and their equipment was often shabby – and yet they managed to pull it off.  Bringing up new leaders in the church, both lay and ordained, requires not just rote training in the fundamentals but also careful mentoring and apprenticeship.  Yet, there are basic building blocks that must be learned.   Look at Yoda’s training of Luke.  He trains him in the basics of the force, the core elements, but also mentors and helps him see what was possible.

6. Relationships not structures win out

It was the relationship and love between Han, Leia, Luke, Chewbacca, and more that gave the rebels strength and courage.  The Church is a Body of relationships – relationships rooted in the love of God.  It is not a system of obedience that will renew us but a revivified understanding that each of our lives is intertwined in dangerous ways with one another’s.  It is dangerous because it is a threat to our sense of pride, individualism, and self-sufficiency.  We are together, as the Church, only because of the life we share in the Sacraments.  Our bishops are leaders because they form the heart of our Sacramental life as a diocese.  Our priests are priests only because they were first baptized and called to offer the Sacraments on behalf of the bishops.  We have a priesthood of all believers that have been welcomed into the apostolic band through the laying on of hands at Confirmation.  It is this web of relationship that stretches beyond time and borders that binds us together and to Christ.  We are not a structure for the sake of structure – we are the Church because we share in the Body.

7. “Don’t tell me the odds.”

C-3P0 lets Han know that the odds of successfully navigating an asteroid field are approximately 3,720 to 1.  The odds seem against the Church these days.  We hear day after day that the decline is coming, the fall is imminent, the sun is setting on the Church.  Yet, we have gone through this all before.  There have been challenges again and again to the Church and yet it thrives not because of our own efforts but by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.  The odds are there and the challenges are real and yet we would be sunk, indeed would have collapsed long ago, if odds were the only thing that guided the Church.  We are not a Body of odds nor a faith of mathematical determinism.

8. There is no try.

Yet, the odds are real and there is little time for us to just let the future happen.  We can’t spend our time theologizing our failure or decline – there are no excuses.  There is no try.  There is do or do not.  Our work is not to save the Church – it is to bring word of God’s salvation to the communities all around us.  With creativity, joy, and determination we are called to work, pray, and give for the spread of the Kingdom.  Offering our whole selves to this work is not easy and it is hardly glamorous but there is no try.  Luke: “I can’t believe it.” Yoda: “That is why you fail.” There is no try because we believe.

9. Learn from failure.

The Galactic Empire devoted years and an enormous amount of money and manpower to constructing the Death Star. After it was built, the base the size of a moon only successfully completed one mission before it was destroyed by the Rebels. And the Empire’s response? Build a bigger, newer Death Star.  There are no reasoned chats between Vader and Palpatine about the wisdom of this path.  Maybe there were creative ways to obliterate planets that they had not considered!  As I listen to the debates about structures in the wider church, I keep waiting for some leader or another to invite us to witness the awesome power of the new and improved House of Deputies.  “I find your lack of faith disturbing” he says as we wonder aloud about this grand new behemoth.  It was not the power of the structures, of the Death Star, that ultimately won but a shared vision of the future.

I am sure there are more lessons to be found – these are just some that jumped out.  Of course, there is always that most valuable of lessons, “Always let the wookie win.”

Robert+