A Thinking Reed

Category: Church matters

  • The fundamentalist hangover

    It occurred to me that there may be something more personal driving some of the points I tried to make in the previous post. I’ve enountered a fair number of people who were raised in very conservative or fundamentalist churches, and who had bad experiences in some cases. For some of these folks, encountering the writings of, say, Marcus Borg can be profoundly liberating simply because they hadn’t realized that there was a different way of looking at Christianity or the life of faith. They exult in a newfound freedom to explore possibilities that would’ve been closed off to them before. And I wouldn’t want to dispargage or downplay how important that can be for some people.

    However, this experience of liberation, it seems, can harden into a permanent anti-fundamentalist defensive crouch. This means that any claims–whether on one’s belief or obedience–can appear to be the thin edge of the fundamentalist wedge. The result is that liberal Christians who are so busy being anti-fundamentalist aren’t always particularly clear on what they’re for (apart, that is, form tolerance, inclusiveness, and social justice, defined in somewhat vague and largely secular terms).

    The problem for me–someone who didn’t grow up fundamentalist and is not particularly reacting against its strictures–is that I am looking for a positive, substantial vision of Christian faith. I don’t imagine that traditional formulations of that vision can be taken over by contemporary people wholesale, but I do think there is a stream of continuity. We catch glimpses of this in the creeds, the liturgy, the lives of the saints, and the writings of some of the great theologians and mystics, but our churches all too frequently come across as afraid to use these treasures they have inherited. Is this because any affirmation of a robust Christian identity is considered a step down the slippery slope to fundamentalism?

  • On not exactly identifying as a “progressive Christian”

    I’ve noticed a trend recently of Christians in mainline chruches, often self-identifying as “progressives,” developing an alternative “canon” of books, Sunday school curricula, approved authors, etc. parallel to those of their conservative counterparts, but which offers an interpretation of Chrisitianity more to their liking. Anyone who’s hung around moderate-to-liberal mainline churches will recognize some of the names: John Dominic Crossan, Marcus Borg, Diana Butler Bass, John Spong, Brian McLaren, etc. The idea seems to be that more liberal Christians need to construct their own identity, an identity that is at least in part one created in opposition to “conservative,” “fundamentalist,” or “evangelical” Christianity.

    There’s much to applaud here, at least to the extent that one thinks that U.S. Christianity has been distorted by too close an association with certain conservative interpretations of the Bible and the conservative political agenda they supposedly provide support for. No doubt there are people put off from Christianity because they associate it with a particular social and political stance, and who are relieved when they realize that being a Christian doesn’t require adopting that stance.

    But I’m not entirely comfortable with the “progressive” alternative either, for a few different reasons. First, it risks creating another theological ghetto where certain authors, ideas, etc. are “safe” or “sound” because they’re on “our side.” Second, the critique of fundamentalism–while appropriate–often fails to replace it with a substantial or satisfying alternative. Too many progressives seem opposed to the idea of doctinal truth, per se, creating a void into which rush all sorts of theological individualism and eclecticism.

    Finally, the theology that many of these progressive authors promote is thin and unsatisfying because it’s too detached from Christian history and tradition. Borg and Crossan, for example, though they both have some good insights, seem to want to replace 2,000 years of Christian reflection on the person of Christ with a historical reconstruction of their own devising. Indeed, their theology threatens at points to be replaced by Jesus-ology: all we need are the social ethics of Jesus (appropriately filtered through a particular set of historical criteria), and we can dispense with most of the God-talk that has characterized historic Christianity, replacing it with, at most, a kind of vague mysticism.

    This may be unfair to the more nuanced insights of some of these scholars, but once those insights get filtered down to the level of the layperson in your average mainline parish, the theology you end up with is thin gruel indeed. Maybe what we need instead is more of an ad fontes approach: recovering a more complex understanding of Christian tradition by actually engaging with it. Is it really beyond the average Christian layperson to, say, participate in a group study on Athanasius’ On the Incarnation, or Augustine’s Confessions, or the writings of Luther and Calvin, or even more recent authors who are accessible and firmly rooted in the tradition without being easily pigeonholed as “conservatives”? (Bonhoeffer, C.S. Lewis, Dorothy Sayers, William Placher, Luke Timothy Johnson, and others come readily to mind.) Traditional theology can have surprisingly radical implications in the areas of social ethics–sometimes far more radical than the tepid liberalism sometimes offered as the only alternative to fundamentalism. And, as Christopher and Derek would no doubt remind us, our tradition is embodied in our prayers and liturgies, the history and theology of which most laypeople are, I think it’s safe to say, woefully ignorant.

    Of course, really engaging with these sources would require leadership who actually believed there was something to be gained by doing this. But I can’t help but think that progressive Christians are too captivated both by a kind of presentism and a kind of primitivism: on the one hand, they take a dim view of tradition, but at the same time think we can leap back to the original Jesus, unobscured by ecclesiastical accretion, with the soul of an egalitarian social refomer and a tolerant, undogmatic theology. Once you’ve watered Christianity down to that point, though, I for one have a hard time seeing why it’s worth bothering about.

  • Whither Anglo-Catholicism?

    I don’t really have a dog in this fight–except insofar as I have a somewhat sentimental attachment to both Anglo-Catholicism and the Episcopal Church on account of being a parishoner for a year at Boston’s Church of the Advent–but here is an interesting meditation on the future of Anglo-Catholics in TEC from the rector at St. Clement’s in Philly.

  • Anglican-Roman doings

    There’s been a lot of virtual ink spilled over the last week or so about the Vatican’s announcement that it will make it easier for Anglicans to convert, establishing, it appears, a more widespread use of the so-called Anglican Rite liturgy and allowing for some degree of self-governance for former Anglican communities. (Including continuing the practice of allowing married Anglican clergy to convert, be re-ordained, and lead these parishes.)

    People have interpreted the announcement as everything from crass sheep-stealing, to creating a haven for Anglicans opposed to women’s ordination and/or gay clergy, to attempting to establish a united Christian front against Islam. But I think before we jump to conclusions about the significance of this move, it’s important to get at least some sense of who’s likely to actually make such a move.

    A lot of the media reports have been focusing on “traditionalist Anglicans,” a vague and not terribly helpful term that could include everyone from a Nigerian charismatic-evangelical to the spikiest of high-church Anglo-Catholics. The former is, for obvious reasons, far less likely to swim the Tiber than the latter.

    But even among Anglo-Catholics–a notoriously fissiparous lot–there are significant differences of opinion and practice. There are Anglo-Catholics who worship with the 1979 Episcopal Book of Common Prayer (or its equivalent in other countries) and those who insist on using the 1928 BCP. There are Anglo-Catholic parishes that use the Catholic Tridentine Rite; there are others that use the reformed Roman rite (the so-called Novus Ordo). There are “Affirming” Anglo-Catholics who support the ordination of women and equality for LGBT Christians; there are others who take traditionalist positions on these matters (or, in some cases, a traditionalist position on one and a revisionist position on the other). There are Anglo-Papalists who identify very strongly with the Catholic Church and long for reunion with Rome, and there are even a few “Byzantine” Anglicans who identify with the spirituality and theology of the Eastern church. (Obviously not all these groupings are mutually exclusive.)

    Needless to say, not all of these folks–even within the minority persuasion of Anglo-Catholicism–will be enticed to convert. It’s true that in addition to Anglo-Papalist types, there may be some people in the traditionalist wing of Anglo-Catholicism who will be tempted to convert not because they unhesitatingly accept all the claims of the Catholic Church but because they feel–rightly or wrongly–that Christian orthodoxy is a losing proposition within Anglicanism. Even still, it’s hard to imagine more than a small minority of Anglicans making the decision to go over to Rome. Whether the Pope showed ecumenical bad manners is debatable, but if Benedict’s goal was to absorb the Anglican Communion, Borg-like, into the Catholic Church, this is a peculiar way to go about it.

  • Acknowledging disagreement is not relativism

    The website of Lutheran Forum has become, for better or worse, all ELCA sex talk all the time. In this post, Sarah Wilson distinguishes two kinds of arguments that proponents of changing existing policy are making:

    One argument is simply this: homosexual activity is not a sin. That is, as long as it follows other biblical precepts like fidelity and lifelong commitment; but as such, it is not sinful.

    The general support for this is the argument that homosexual activity in this faithful and lifelong framework was simply not known to the biblical writers; the only kind of homosexual activity they knew was promiscuous, or idolatrous, but not the kind commended nowadays. This argument has the merit of straightforwardness. The best defender of it as far as I can tell is Chris Scharen (needless to say there are quite a number of points he makes I’d take issue with—but still, credit is due).

    The other argument, considerably more widespread, and ironically coming from most of our “teaching theologians,” is fairly garbled and incoherent, but if you can draw it out from the tangle, it says essentially: it doesn’t matter whether it’s a sin, because God forgives everything, gospel trumps law, all is grace, and (it seems hard to avoid this conclusion, though it is not said outright either) everyone will be saved anyway. The documents up for vote in a few weeks imply as much when they say we only have to agree about the gospel, but ethics don’t matter for the unity of the church—a bizarre assertion that probably wouldn’t hold if the sin in question were racist hate crimes, child molestation, or searching for nonexistent weapons of mass destruction in foreign countries.

    I agree with her that the first argument is stronger; in fact, I think it’s true and sound. Curiously, she doesn’t cite any specific person making a form of the second argument, which raises suspicions that it’s a bit of a caricature. After all, to say that “ethics don’t matter for the unity of the church” is, as Ms. Wilson rightly points out, “a bizarre assertion.” So I would be surprised to find anyone actually making such an assertion and prepared to strongly disagree with them.

    What some people have argued (including me) is that diversity on moral judgment exists, is probably inevitable, and, to some extent, should be embraced. Lutherans agree in opposing hate crimes (though, probably not on hate crime legislation), child molestation, and searching for nonexistent weapons of mass destruction (though, again, probably not on whether the Iraq war might nevertheless have been justified).

    The fact that she selects such obvious examples of consensus actually highlights the many areas where there isn’t consensus. I mentioned a few in my previous post: war and peace, abortion, government’s role in alleviating poverty and regulating the economy. Lutherans have traditionally seen these as matters for the first (or political) use of the law, and to be determined by human judgment informed by the best available knowledge. They aren’t matters of revealed truth.

    When it comes to the blessing of same-sex relationships and the rostering of non-celibate gay and lesbian pastors, we face a similar diversity of views. My personal view is that we have good grounds for affirming same-sex relationships, given that we know, by the observation of the lives of many gay and lesbian couples, that those relationships can exhibit the fruits of the Spirit, provide their participants with the great goods of love and companionship, provide bulwarks against sin, and build up the communities of which they’re a part. Just like heterosexual marriages.

    But, as we all know, there are many folks in the church unconvinced by this, either because they think the Bible condemns all same-sex relationships, not just exploitative or promiscuous ones;* they think that the traditional teaching of the church must be maintained; or for other more discreditable reasons. Where we can, we should assume good faith on the part of those who uphold the traditional teaching (and hope they’d extend the same charity). Hence, we should all look for ways of living together that respect the different conclusions we’ve arrived at here as in other areas.

    I think the policy being considered by the ELCA is best understood both as an attempt to permit us to continue to live and worship and serve together and as an attempt to open up spaces where new ways of living as Christians can be tested. As St. Paul says: “Test all things; hold fast what is good.”

    Just as in a federal system of government, states can function as “laboratories of democracy,” we might see “structured flexibility” as an attempt to create laboratories of the spirit–spaces where the goodness of same-sex relationships, supported by their congregations, can be shown forth to the rest of the church.

    This isn’t–or at least it shouldn’t be–a matter of straight people generously “including” LGBT people in the church. Christ has already done that through baptism and the Spirit. This, fundamentally, is why the church should find ways to provide structures of support to LGBT individuals and couples, while respecting, where appropriate, the “bound consciences” of those who differ. This is not some vulgar moral relativism, but an honest recognition of where we disagree and how we might move forward as a church.

    One might observe at this point the patience being displayed by many of our LGBT members here. We heterosexuals aren’t under the burden of “proving” the value or legitimacy of our relationships to the wider church. Even the minimal standards that heterosexuals are expected to observe are rarely enforced (what is the attitude of most ELCA congregations toward straight couples who live together before marriage, for instance?). Meanwhile, gay people have their lives put on trial. In fact, I feel like I’m being presumptuous even writing about this because it’s not my relationship (or calling) that’s at stake, and I certainly don’t have the authority to speak on any else’s behalf. But I do think it’s important to be clear that what’s being proposed is not some lapse into antinomianism.
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    *Though, as Lutheran biblical scholar Arland Hultgren has pointed out, even if the exegetical judgment that the Bible does not condemn same-sex relationships per se turns out to be wrong, we still need a consistent hermeneutic. He cites in particular the church’s changed attitude toward divorce and remarriage. See: Being Faithful to the Scriptures: Romans 1:26-27 as a Case in Point.

  • Bp. Chilstrom’s letter

    Herbert Chilstrom was the first presiding bishop of the ELCA, from its inception until 1995. Here he responds to an open letter from the group Lutheran CORE, which was signed by a number of theological heavyweights (Braaten, Jenson, etc.), opposing the proposed changes to the church’s policy on same-sex relationships.

  • In defense of the ELCA sexuality proposals

    Though the Episcopalians always get more press, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America’s biennial churchwide assembly later this month will consider recommendations related to the blessing of same-sex unions and the ordination of non-celibate gay and lesbian Christians.

    The church appointed a “Sexuality Task Force” to study the issue and present recommendations, which it has done. (You can read the report and recommendations, as well as a proposed “social statement” on sexuality here; for the purposes of this post I’m focusing on the report and recommendations.)

    What the Task Force came up with is a series of proposed steps for the church to take, each one to be considered only once the assembly has accepted the preceding one(s):

    Step 1: Asks the assembly whether, in principle, it is committed to finding ways for congregations and synods–if they wish–to recognize, support, and hold publicly accountable “lifelong, monogamous, same-gender relationships.”

    Step 2: Asks whether the assembly is committed, in principle, to findings ways for people in such relationships to serve as rostered leaders of the church.

    Step 3: Asks whether, in the implementation of steps 1 and 2, the church is committed to finding ways for members to live together that respect and show love for those with whom they disagree.

    Only if the church agrees to steps 1-3 can it then decide on step 4: to consider “structured flexibility” in allowing people in monogamous, same-gender relationships to be approved for the rosters of the ELCA. This means that individual congregations, bishops, and synods, in consultation with candidacy committees, seminary faculty, and others would be able to exercise what’s come to be called a “local option” in approving and calling non-celibate gay and lesbian candidates (within the context of the pre-existing process for discerning a call to ministry).

    This recommendation is motivated by the lack of consensus in the church and the need to respect the “bound consciences” of those with whom we disagree. Given that consensus doesn’t exist, it’s better to recognize that reality than paper over it. But that also implies that Christians shouldn’t force others to act against their own conscience. Thus the rationale for the local option.

    Arguments against change appeal to the lack of consensus in the ELCA, as well as in the Lutheran World Federation and the wider church. Essentially: “When it is not necessary to change, it is necessary not to change.” The worry here is that the ELCA will be striking out on its own and further separating itself from other Christian bodies. Appeal here is also made to the traditional interpretation of the seven biblical passages that seem to refer to homosexuality* and, in some cases, a variety of natural law reasoning for the normativity of heterosexuality.

    The rub of the issue, as I see it, is whether a church can, in good conscience, tolerate the level of diversity in practice that a local option would logically entail. We should start out by noting that we already tolerate a great deal of moral diversity: on war and peace, on abortion, on economics and politics, etc. The ELCA as it currently exists strives to be a big tent on most issues (there are obviously some positions that are beyond the pale, e.g., violence or discrimination–at least they’re supposed to be). We know that our vocation in the world is to love others as we love ourselves, but we don’t always agree on what this means in concrete situations.

    Second, moral issues are in a sense secondary or derivative of doctrinal ones. Neither the ecumenical creeds nor the Lutheran Confessions prescribe particular positions on current hot-button issues. And such positions can’t always be derived in a straightforward way from doctrinal truths. (Sometimes they can: for instance, the Incarnation implies that all human beings have an ineffacable dignity, which provides the ground for human rights.)

    Third, we should acknowledge that not only is there a diversity of perspectives on “first-order” moral issues, but also on such “second-order” issues like how we reason about morality in the first place and how we interpret scripture. These deep methodological and hermeneutical issues may be even more intractable than the first-order questions themselves.

    These considerations all point to a diversity of practice as a legitimate option for the church. Total agreement is neither possible at this point, nor, perhaps desirable. Allowing for diversity may be the only way for new insights to emerge. Gamaliel’s advice to the Sanhedrin in Acts seems relevant here.

    It might be argued that taking any steps in the direction of affirming same-sex relationships will damage our relations with our ecumenical partners. Wouldn’t this be putting up one more barrier to reunion with Rome, for instance? My personal view is that we shouldn’t let Rome set the rules for ecumenical engagement. From a Lutheran perspective, there’s nothing preventing us from acknowledging now our unity and fellowship with Catholic Christians. As the Augusburg Confession states, it’s enough for the unity of the church to agree on the preaching of the gospel and the administration of the sacraments; agreement on “rites and ceremonies” is not a condition for church unity. In this instance, at least, it’s not Lutherans who are standing in the way of unity. Consequently, to concede that affirming same-sex relationships would obstruct unity is already to give the store away as far as what constitutes unity.

    So, it seems to me that the recommendation of the task force, imperfect as it may be, is the best route forward. I like that it makes the affirmation of same-sex relationships foundational, before proceeding to consider specifically clergy-related matters. (Even if a rite for blessing is still a long way off.) It recognizes that we live in the midst of a diversity of opinion that isn’t going away and doesn’t pine for a “pure” church where everyone agrees on all moral issues of importance. Such a church would be a sect. The report gets it right in emphasizing that the ground of our unity is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and God’s gracious acceptance of us sinners for Christ’s sake. Whether we will allow that to be enough remains to be seen.
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    *The report identifies these as Genesis 19:1–11; Judges 19:16–30; Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13; Romans 1:26–27;1 Corinthians 6:9–11; and 1 Timothy 1:9–10.

  • CofE vs. Anglicanism

    Interesting column by Giles Fraser:

    the genius of the Church of England has been to allow different theological temperaments to wor­ship alongside one other, united by common prayer and community spirit. This was how we recognised each other as members of the same Church. This was our particular charism, and we were widely valued for it.

    In Anglicanism, however, the joys of common prayer and community spirit are replaced by ideology. This Anglican Church is a new invention, a global piece of post-colonial hubris, driven by those who feel that a Church that is genuinely Catholic must have outposts throughout the world.

    Bishops get on planes and fly to other parts of the world to sit in com­mittees with other bishops, hammer­ing out policy — although no one in the secular world cares two hoots about what they decide. Over time, these meetings have created a new Church with a single-issue magis­terium based on an unhealthy fascina­tion with what gay people do in their bedrooms. This, apparently, is how we are to recognise each other as Anglicans.

    I try to avoid commenting on the affairs of other churches (though, I guess given the full communion arrangements between TEC and the ELCA I have some stake in it). But the obsession with keeping the “Anglican Communion” together is blowing the importance of an institution–one that I can scarcely remember hearing about just a few years ago–all out of proportion. And actual living, breathing human beings are getting ground under the wheels in the process. I’m not sure what kind of ecclessiology really underwrites this effort to create what looks like an ersatz Catholic Church. Maybe it’s that Anglicans never seem to have made peace with being Protestant (or reformed, if you prefer).

    Hopefully the Lutheran World Federation can maintain its existence as just that: a federation bound together by bonds of affection and sharing in good works. The last thing we need are more top-heavy church bureaucracies.

  • The introversion of the church

    I’m reading Lutheran biblical scholar/theologian Ernst Kasemann’s short book Jesus Means Freedom, and I thought this passage was particularly relevant to a lot of contemporary trends in Christianity, even though the book was published in the late ‘60s:

    The church as the real content of the gospel, its glory the boundless manifestation of the heavenly Lord, sharing in it being identical with sharing in Christ and his dominion, his qualities being communicable to it—we know that message. It has lasted for two thousand years, has fascinated Protestantism, too, and is today the main driving force of the ecumenical movement. If only the theology of the cross were brought in to counterbalance it! But the church triumphant, even if it starts from the cross and guards it as its most precious mystery, has still always stood in a tense relationship to the crucified Lord himself. As long as the tension remained alive in it under violent friction, one could in some degree come to terms with the situation. The greatest danger always arose when the church pushed itself into the foreground so that Christ’s image above it faded into an image of the founder, or the cultic hero, or became an ecclesiastical icon to be put side by side with other icons that were set up from time to time. It was against that danger that the Reformation in fact rose up, not against the secularization of the church, although the two things necessarily went together. Where the world is dominated by the church, and even Christ is integrated in its metaphysical system, the church becomes conversely a religiously transfigured world. Its real Babylonian captivity, however, consists in its making itself the focal point of salvation and the theme of the gospel. The church’s introversion puts it into the sharpest contrast with the crucified Lord who did not seek his own glory and gave himself to the ungodly. (pp. 89-90)

  • What’s going on with TEC?

    The headlines say that the Episcopal Church has overturned its “moratorium” on gay bishops. N.T. Wright, predictably, scolds the Americans for fomenting “schism.” But more nuanced interpretations of what’s going on are available. See Christopher here and Father Jones at the Anglican Centrist here.