Showing posts with label tec. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tec. Show all posts

Monday, October 20, 2014

And Yet Another Tiresome Episcopal Drama.....

Is there a petition I can sign that would get rid of the entire "leadership" - and I use that term  loosely - at General Theological Seminary?   The entire cast of characters involved in this incident - faculty, Dean, and Board - have all clearly demonstrated their incompetence and unsuitability for the positions they hold. 

This latest Baby Boomer Episcopalian drama is by far the most ridiculous thing I've seen in my 10 years of church membership - and that's really saying something.   With everything that's going on in the world today - including the imminent failure of the church itself - I simply cannot believe a few Episcopal clergypeople have found still another way to obsess over themselves, and have now suckered the entire church into the mess.

I've completely lost respect for all the "outraged commentators" too.  "Weaponization of resignation," indeed!  Sure - when you hold the gun to your own head.  8 brain-dead morons give the institution that employs them an ultimatum:  "Either the Boss goes, or we do."   Why is anybody shocked, shocked that the Board of Directors decided - quite rightly, too, in my estimation -  "Well, in that case, you go, then.  And don't let the door hit you on the way out."?  (And we get lectures on "dishonesty"!  As if the 8 morons were just minding their own business one day and happened to get fired, for no reason at all.)

Again, I am always utterly astounded that clergy do things their parishioners would never even consider doing in our worklives - and somehow expect to escape the consequences of it.  I'm even more amazed the lengths to which people are going now to make excuses for it.

I'm quite sure there's more to this than we are being told - it couldn't really be this ridiculous, could it? - but at this point, why should anybody care?   Show them all the door, and start over.

The Episcopal Church is, I'm sorry to say, drunk.  Hopefully it will hit bottom sometime soon - but don't hold your breath.....

    Sunday, February 16, 2014

    "New Course: Lent for Families with Kim Baker"

    I'm delighted to report that ChurchNext sent out this email this morning.   This, to me, is exactly the right path for the church to follow now:  an emphasis on the Great Church Year and on how individuals and especially families can observe it on a daily basis.  For me at least, "daily" is the whole point of the thing; "church services" once a week just won't do it.   (In A.A. terms:  people would never get sober if they attended only one meeting each week; transformation is a daily habit that includes reading, talking to others on the phone or in-person, working on the Steps - self-examination, confession, prayer, meditation, etc. - and in general learning an entirely new way to live life.)

    I've been yammering about this for years, and pointing often to Full Homely Divinity for all its wonderful at-home (i.e. "homely") suggestions; this looks like another terrific step in just the right direction.  Here's the content of the email; my bolding:

    Lent is a great opportunity not only for personal spiritual growth, but for the growth of the spirituality of families. This course is filled with practical tips from long-time educator and canon to the Washington National Cathedral Kim Baker who tells us how Lent offers an unparalleled opportunity for families to grow in Christ.

    One blessing of the Church calendar is the cycle of life if mirrors in the lives of all Christians.


    Lent is our wilderness because we all experience this time in our lives.  In this 45-minute course, Kim Baker shows us how Lent can be used to tap into these wilderness times as families.  Lessons include:
    Why Lent Is for Families
    Lenten Themes for Families
    Lenten Activities for Families I
    Lenten Activities for Families II
     This course is ideal for families and educators looking to make the most out of Lent for families.

    Find out more about Lent for Families here.
    The Rev. Canon Kim Baker is the canon pastor at the Washington National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. She is a lifelong educator specializing in children and families.


    Hurrah!

    Wednesday, February 5, 2014

    I think this might be a problem....

    I signed up for a free internet class today at ChurchNext; it's called  "Making Sense of the Cross," and will be offered during the first week of Lent.

    The problem?  I was relieved to see that the class leader is a Lutheran priest.

    I kind of think that's a pretty bad sign for the home team....

    Saturday, January 25, 2014

    "Bible-Mindedness and Episcopalians"

    Caelius has some really great things to say here.  I'm going to try to convince him to get this posted at one of the major Episcopal Church media outlets - but meantime, will you read it and link to it, if you read my blog?  It's very important.

    If TEC can't make faith about "faith in daily life," it's all over, folks.  It takes some work and practice to be able to get grooved in and to articulate some of this stuff - but Caelius has helpfully offered some ideas for practices that people can engage in meanwhile; that should help a lot.

    Here's the crucial stuff:
     Why Episcopalians Should Read and Discuss the Bible More

    1. Your children have no idea what you believe.

    Children, by necessity, have living memories similar in magnitude to one liturgical cycle. And chances are, they're hearing the readings only on Sunday. In the same way you discuss confidently what your children are learning in school, you need to be able to discuss confidently what they are learning in Sunday School and what is being said in church. My father discussed the sermon with me every Sunday when I was growing up. A solid grounding in the Bible (and how living, breathing Episcopalians read it) will give children a foundation for committing to Christ and practicing Christianity in the future and resist the attractions of more authoritarian approaches to following Christ. And if they don't come to believe, they will have a new appreciation for history, culture, and literary analysis.

    2. We need a credible word spoken into our lives

    In Paul Zahl's Grace in Practice , he writes about a ritual he suggests for every married couple. The first thing they should do in the morning, before they listen to the radio, check their e-mail etc. is: (1) read a short portion from the Bible together; (2) exchange prayer requests with one another; and (3) pray spontaneously. How very Evangelical. Anglo-Catholics may prefer an abbreviated Morning Prayer.

    The reading of Scripture first thing in the morning is the important part. Zahl talks about the importance of a word being spoken into the marriage outside of it. Human communication inevitably is a place of struggle, as our incurvatus in se selves seek to be known and heard more than to know and listen. And indeed, the Bible (as long as the passage is from the Lectionary or chosen by a good random number generator with a key (there are 31,102 verses in the King James Version…) is ideally such a word. All the other words in our lives have an uncertain agenda. The ones we speak are ultimately self-promoting, and so also are the ones we hear from those like ourselves. We believe that the source of Scripture has an agenda that is to our benefit and speaks credibly, even if we do not hear Scripture credibly. Scripture is the foreign word we need to hear.

    3. We need to discuss what he have in common beyond the institution

    The fastest-growing churches are the ones to which people want to belong. That point may sound trivial, but it's not. The fastest-growing churches are the ones that find people who bring together those who belong together. One parish to which I belonged realized that there were a whole group of people interested in political Progressivism and liturgical worship. People drove there from fifty miles away. Their Christian Education hour was typically focused on politics, social ills, and culture. The most Bible was discussed might have been in the 20s and 30s group, which was mostly composed of Evangelicals who wanted to be Progressives and/or had been alienated by Evangelicalism.

    If we want to create vital churches that are genuinely inclusive, we need to find affinity groups beyond politics, race, and class. And if we are Christians, the affinity group we need to seek is those who love and follow Jesus Christ. And the Holy Scriptures ultimately point to him.

    Too many times when I am with church people, I find myself discussing politics, either that of the civil authorities or that of the Church (at the parochial through international levels). And when I bring the Bible into these discussions, I often hear, "I disagree with that." I don't hear, "I do not interpret that verse, passage, entire book in that way and here's why." So we devolve into the mere exchange of opinions and very little insight into Jesus.

    I think Episcopal churches would be stronger (growth is another issue) if we could discuss the Bible with another in a way the demonstrated mutual engagement with the text. The Bible and the Sacraments are the most obvious foci of our unity, and they are the healthiest ones to discuss as well. Grounding ourselves in Scripture will make it easier to have conversations about the difficult institutional issues we often face.


    4. We need to be able to talk with Barna's "Bible-minded" Christians as fellow disciples, not as the Other


    This past Sunday, I was at an ecumenical service. The hosting pastor said on a couple occasions that he thanked us, "that we thought it not robbery" to attend. I guessed that it was a Biblical allusion, but I had no idea the reference. Google told me that it is the King James rendering of the phrase from the kenotic hymn of Philippians 2, "who being in the form of God, did not think equality with God something to be snatched at." (I admit that my memory of rendering this verse comes from translating it from the Vulgate.) I am still not sure how I feel about this allusion, but I recognize it as an incisive comment on ecumenism. To participate in a service like that does require that we humble ourselves. In the future, I will have something to discuss with the pastor in the future that does not dwell on the competition for souls or service opportunities that otherwise engages the visibly disunited Body of Christ.

    Tuesday, January 7, 2014

    "When Shall We Celebrate the Epiphany?" - and other tales from TEC

    This post - an "interesting glimpse into our attitudes about the discipline of the church and our expectations of church members" - made me think again about the really formative nature of the Great Church Year.

    The fact that almost every clergyperson on the mailing list Scott Gunn refers to said they were celebrating Epiphany on a Sunday, rather than as its own (very important) feast really does say something important, I think.    This is now a standard thing, and I suppose it would be easy to brush off concern about this as "liturgical fundamentalism" - except that we are a liturgical church that celebrates according to the Calendar of the Great Church Year.  When all the feasts are ignored - and the few that get celebrated get moved to Sunday - there really is no more Great Church Year.    And that means that there's little reason to belong to the Episcopal Church, in particular, at all anymore.

    Anyway, here are the four major points Scott Gunn made in the post: 
    First, the church will not grow by cheapening discipleship. One of the charisms of catholic Christianity is the discipline of following the liturgical year. It is not asking “too much” to expect people to walk and pray in the rhythms of the church year. To be sure, for all kinds of perfectly good reasons, not every person will be able to worship every Sunday and celebrate every Principal Feast. But we do people a disservice when we erase the expectation. We’ve seen the results of “I’m OK, you’re OK” Christianity, and it looks like steady, persistent decline in the church and in individual spiritual lives. The fruits of a serious commitment to discipleship are a growing church and a thriving spiritual life. We should mark the feasts of the universal church at the appointed time and invite people to celebrate.

    Second, clergy leaders need to learn that their personal preferences must take a distant back seat to the common prayer — to the discipline — of our church. Whether or not I “like” a particular practice is almost irrelevant. It is the height of clerical hubris to deprive congregations of the richness of our liturgical heritage based on the preferences of the clergy leader. So what if I offer a mass and only a few people come? All who attend will be immeasurably enriched by the experience.

    Third, congregations might discover that there is a substantial number of people who are actually eager to celebrate the feast days of the church in due course. In the parish I served, we celebrated the Feast of the Epiphany on its day with a festive Holy Eucharist with all the trimmings: the Christmas/Epiphany pageant, the reading of the Epiphany proclamation, and the distribution blessed chalk for the blessing of homes in Epiphanytide. Our attendance was often comparable to our Sunday attendance, and many people expressed how delightful they found this occasion to be. It’s a fantastic way to cap off our celebration of the Christmas Season. Before concluding “no one will come,” maybe it’s worth trying. This won’t work in every setting, but I’d bet that it will work on many places.

    Fourth, there’s no compelling reason to move the feast. If your congregation chooses not to celebrate all the Principal Feasts, so be it. Simply skip the Feast of the Epiphany and celebrate the Second Sunday of Christmas. One of the Gospel options is Matthew 2:1-12, so you can totally hear and preach about the journey of the magi and sing Epiphany hymns. You can mark this point in the salvation history without compromising the discipline of the church.

    I'm totally on board with the point about clergy obedience; it's really not helpful to have a bunch of people in "leadership" (God, how I hate that word!) who do whatever they feel like doing.  We're Episcopalians by choice; we've joined this church for serious reasons - and believe it or not, one of the most important of the reasons is that the clergy are constrained by the Prayer Book.   The calendar and lectionary force priests to deal with the entire church year; this makes it less likely they'll subject their congregations to whatever hobby-horse they might happen to want to indulge.

    That's what happens at the mega-church down the street - and we do know that address, if that were what we wanted.  The Great Church Year, by design, allows the faith of the Church to be the primary focus, rather than the whim of the rector.   If you don't want to follow the rules, then why would you want to be ordained in this church?   Those with authority issues should, truly, get some help for that (really:  it will make such a difference to your life!).  Episcopal priests are under authority, by definition - as is almost everybody else in the world, BTW.   None of us gets to do exactly what we feel like doing at work, either.

    The thing this all makes clear, though, is this:   Christian faith is a habit.   It's a way of living - and "ways of living" are learned.   It takes time to acquire the habits that slowly form us; this is just a fact of life - a hard one, I guess, for a culture built on immediate gratification.

    And the Great Church Year is, to my way of thinking, the primary habit of the Christian life.  It forms us in a very gentle, long-term-persistent way.   It does not insist; it graciously offers a way of life that changes us from the inside out.

    At the post, I (once again!) recommended Full Homely Divinity, and its suggestions for following the Great Church Year at home, as a partial solution to this problem - and realized that actually it's a primary solution.   Because once this habit has become grooved - the habit of following the feasts and fasts, as the Church Year moves through its cycles - one's entire way of life is changed. 

    And, BTW:  it makes weekly attendance at Divine Service completely natural and in fact a joy - something you don't want to miss.  Private and family devotions won't take away from communal worship; these things will increase attendance at communal worship.

    In other words:  we need to stop worrying and talking about church services and start focusing on the Great Church Year and the Christian life itself.    We need to teach the feasts and fasts in-depth - and ways for parishioners to keep them in their own daily lives.  And this is what FHD does: it offers prayers and liturgies and funny little anecdotes and discussion of customs - including recipes for baked goods!  It helps people live the life of faith - and this is the only way, I do believe, that people will come to see how valuable faith is.  

    Faith is different from no-faith - and this difference needs to be experienced.

    This is not secondary; it's absolutely primary.    The Great Church Year is, perhaps, the Twelve Steps of the Church itself.  Since Anglicanism is minimalist in doctrine, it really needs to be maximalist on this account.  The GCY does offer real, productive practices for individuals throughout the year;  Advent is a time to explore the great themes of Salvation; Christmas is Joy; Epiphany lets us move into the mystical; Shrove Tuesday (if we encouraged the practice it's named for) and Ash Wednesday are days for Confession.  Lent offers the practices of fasting, prayer, and almsgiving; the long stretch of "Ordinary Time" is a time for considering the parables; etc.  The collects move through all these themes, and others, and describe the Christian life in all its facets, looking at it from hundreds of different directions.

    None of this stuff will happen, though, if the Church Year is thought to be endlessly malleable and subject to whatever whim we happen to have at the moment.    It is being slowly and inexorably deformed by the choices we're making; we are all becoming C&E Christians.

    Listen:  I stumbled upon the Great Church Year and its central, formative nature almost entirely by accident!  I started going to St. Mary's, and looking at the chant propers in the leaflet when I got home.  I started attending Lauds at the local convent, and writing Chantblog to talk about the things I was learning.  I started following the feasts and fasts and seasons in depth, in other words - and now I do it automatically.  If my parish closed - and we're getting warnings that lots of parishes will close - I will still do this, and still be able to worship, following along as the seasons pass.  If I move, and my local parish celebrates only U2Charists, I will still be able to celebrate according to the calendar.

    But I simply wouldn't have found any of this without having stumbled into it - so to my way of thinking it needs to be engaged with and actively taught in the parishes now.

    Derek's been talking about "prymers" and lay devotions for years now; to me, FHD is analogous in our contemporary context. 

    This is where we need to put our emphasis, IMO; this is what "Episcopal evangelism" looks like.

    Remember that Urban T. Holmes wrote, “....when Anglicanism is at its best its liturgy, its poetry, its music and its life can create a world of wonder in which it is very easy to fall in love with God.”  And isn't that what we're here for - for the sake of the love of God, that is?




    Wednesday, November 20, 2013

    "Seattle’s Compline Tradition"

    A nice article about St. Marks' Sunday Compline at The Living Church:

    Joel Connelly writes for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer website:
    The pews at St. Mark’s Cathedral fill as 9:30 approaches on a Sunday night, and soon young people are lying on the floors of the cavernous “Holy Box” high atop Capitol Hill.

    They are coming, and have been for half-a-century, to hear the chanting of an ancient monastic “office” and fulfill the desire of people to experience the sacred and divine. The crowd is, as always, predominantly young.

    “Compline is proof that we are spiritual in this region,” said Austin Rickel, a 17-year-old Center School student who recently completed a video on the service.
    Read the rest. The Rt. Rev. Gregory Rickel, Bishop of Olympia and father of Austin, writes briefly about the service on his weblog.






    Monday, November 11, 2013

    "Lessons In Leadership: It's Not About You. (It's About Them)"

    From NPR.   I've been noticing over the past 5 years or so that the word "leadership" has become a kind of mantra in the Episcopal Church.  Here's the "Leadership" section of the website ECF:  Vital practices for leading congregations.  Here's the "Leadership" page at the website of The National Association of Episcopal Schools.  Recently we were treated to a letter from TEC "Leadership" in which "leadership" referred to itself by that name in the third person.

    There is now apparently an "Anglican theology of leadership" - and it seems that some people are even appointing themselves "leaders."

    There are many more examples; these are just a few I came up with in 5 minutes or so.   But this has been bugging me for quiet awhile.  I'm not sure why anybody doesn't seem to notice that talking about the church this way creates something quite like a caste system.   There rarely seems to be any attempt at all to engage the membership of the church as a whole; this to me seems very much parallel to the fact that there is never any discussion in the Episcopal Church about the "lay vocation" - but endless talk about vocational "discernment" for the priesthood.

    Anyway, here's the article.  I really think "leadership" is going to have to get over its love affair with itself and actually attempt to communicate with the rest of us at some point.  Leaders can't appoint themselves; the "leadership" mantle is bestowed by othersAnd that means getting involved with followership (or whatever we're supposed to be).
    Ronald Heifetz has been a professor of public leadership at Harvard's Kennedy School for three decades, teaching classes that have included aspiring business leaders and budding heads of state. Each year, he says, the students start his course thinking they'll learn the answer to one question:

    As leaders, how can they get others to follow them?

    Heifetz says that whole approach is wrong.

    "The dominant view of leadership is that the leader has the vision and the rest is a sales problem," he says. "I think that notion of leadership is bankrupt." That approach only works for technical problems, he says, where there's a right answer and an expert knows what it is.

    Heifetz trained as a psychiatrist, and he describes his view of effective leadership with an analogy from medicine. "When a patient comes to a surgeon, the surgeon's default setting is to say, 'You've got a problem? I'll take the problem off your shoulders and I'll deliver back to you a solution.' In psychiatry, when a person comes to you with a problem, it's not your job actually to solve their problem. It's your job to develop their capacity to solve their own problem."

    Many intractable political issues, such as civil war, poverty or ethnic tension are complicated, and solving them may require a whole nation of people to change their mindset. As they approach these sorts of "nontechnical" problems, Heifetz says, leaders should think less like surgeons, and more like psychiatrists.

    In such cases, "the people are the problem and the people are the solution," he says. "And leadership then is about mobilizing and engaging the people with the problem rather than trying to anesthetize them so you can go off and solve it on your own."

    Wednesday, July 24, 2013

    In the meantime.....

    It seems the church no longer has faith in the long-term formative nature of the liturgy, but wishes to provide people some sort of "immediate" experience that will impress them and keep them interested. 

    I don't deny those kinds of experiences can be very helpful; I had a powerful spiritual experience early on myself, and it absolutely kept me coming when probably nothing else would or could have.  It gave me a feeling of being "called."  Perhaps this was essential for me, because of the whole gay thing; I doubt I'd have had the patience or forbearance to put up with the church and all its nonsense otherwise.

    Of course, that particular issue does not apply to most people.  But, it does demonstrate, I think, that the church needs to provide people with a reason to continue attending while the slow, methodical work of  "formation" goes on.

    The word is that English Cathedrals are seeing a pronounced uptick in attendance these days.  This is probably happening for two reasons:  a) the great music and beautiful liturgy, and b) the anonymity they provide.  When I first came around, I preferred going to large churches so I could come and go as I wished, without getting involved in any way.  And of course I loved going to churches with good music; I'm lucky to live in an area where it's easy to find those.  This is a terrific entree to the life of faith - the best of the ways it can reach other people.

    The Cathedral thing isn't going to happen in the U.S., though.   We don't have such embedded traditions - and unfortunately, in my experience American Cathedrals are worse than parish churches when it comes to hokey liturgical "innovation."   And Americans don't tend to go to church for the sake of  "the beauty of holiness" anyway; church is much more about "getting saved" in the Evangelical sense - or else a political and/or cultural affiliation or social obligation.  There are other reasons, too, of course - many people do come because they hold to the faith, even if they come for some of the other reasons as well! - but "beauty" isn't generally one of them.  In addition, Americans are impatient, and tend to key on the loudest and latest thing; there's not much appreciation for anything old or understated.

    And the liturgy is archaic, let's face it; that's part of the attraction.   (And this, to me, is the amusing thing when churchpeople argue against, for instance, ad orientem.  As if "facing the people" during the consecration of the bread and wine were any less strange and archaic for those outside the church!)

    In any case:  the stranger the better, I say.  Do something impressively odd and beautiful, and you'll get people's attention.  It happened for me, just this way, in fact; when I first saw a priest genuflect in front of the altar at the Consecration, I was deeply struck - and impressed - by the reverence of it.  When, at another parish, I first saw the Asperges (the sprinkling of the congregation with holy water at the start of the service), I was literally struck dumb!  I actually couldn't speak; I was choked up by the strange beauty of it all - and I've considered myself Anglo-Catholic ever since. When at a third parish, I saw the Easter Vigil procession - the deacon who processed with the Paschal candle and sang:  "The Light of Christ" (on Sunday morning, BTW, in broad daylight!) - I decided on the spot I would be confirmed in the Episcopal Church.

    It pays to remember that people simply aren't used to seeing things like this - and they are striking.  Liturgical actions speak volumes, via often very simple gestures.  Think of military formality, for instance; the military has its own liturgical ceremonies which absolutely do communicate essential ideas.  Here's an example:



    Somebody once argued that in fact liturgical churches were always going to have problems attracting at least some people outside the church, because the liturgy was not created for newcomers.   The argument was that evangelicals (generically-speaking) would attract new people, and liturgical churches would eventually get those new people once they'd been evangelical for awhile, but were looking for something deeper.  This makes sense to me.  It means that the full, formal liturgy is for the already-initiated; you don't mess with it because then it can't help these already-initiated people , and in the end nobody's gotten any benefit at all.

    But American evangelicals are not convincing many people these days - they've ruined their own reputations with political affiliations and irrationality - which makes a problem down the line for us, if you hold to the above theory.

    To me it seems clear to me that the Episcopal Church is going to have to stop perseverating on, and endlessly arguing about, the liturgy and ways to tinker with it - just do it, as they say - and start finding ways to talk about, and teach, the faith itself, and to show people what it's for.

    My recommendation?  Use the Book of Common Prayer faithfully - and follow the rubrics - for Sunday services; use "Rite III" at other times, if that makes sense.   Have a dancing, jumping-around, rock mass at night, if that seems like a good thing in your neighborhood; I don't think it would be that difficult to do via the regular liturgy, even!    Or sing Compline on Sunday nights; they do it very successfully in Seattle, getting 500 people - mostly kids - every week.  Start discussion groups for people outside the faith, and teach the faith itself.   Not via the Creed as a standalone - but what the content of the Creed actually means for peoples' lives.  Talk about the human condition - use the world's literature as a text, as it can show us obvious things about ourselves we've simply decided not to see - and about our problems in living; and show how Christian faith responds to these problems.   (As an alternative, just use the world's newspapers - although the problem there is that most of us will not be able to see what they actually tell us about ourselves.)

    The Bible is full of absolutely crazy stories; revel in them!  Talk about the nutty characters of the Old Testament, and discuss the almost completely alien-to-us society they lived in, and the wild ideas they had.   Take those stories and have people write midrash extensions of them; play with the literature, and don't be afraid of it.

    It has taken me ten years to become liturgically literate, and to be able to derive its benefits on a regular basis.  And I'm very interested in, and dedicated to, the spiritual life - and I had that powerful spiritual experience that kept me coming.  You can try to induce something like that via cool things like chant and incense - not a bad idea at all, I say! - or you can try to talk to peoples' minds and hearts.  Different people are going to be interested in different things.  To me it seems Episcopalians don't really know how to talk about faith, or to convince people why it's a good thing.  Perhaps this is because they do focus so much on liturgy, and just aren't aware of or conversant about what it's meant to do and what it does.

    I should also add:  my powerful spiritual experience happened completely outside church; it happened while I was reading and thinking about the faith itself, although with the help of some visual aids.  This tells me that the content of the faith is actually quite important, and that it will help Episcopalians if we can become very conversant in it.

    But seriously:  don't continue to mess with the only means of long-term formation we have.  Keep to the liturgy faithfully for your already-initiated, and give other people something that will get and keep them interested in the meantime.   (Hint:  it's not simplistic moralism of any kind.)  Music, spiritual practices, activities and learning for kids (i.e. choir schools, which offer free training and education you can't find elsewhere), deep study of the Bible and other texts, other kinds of literature, art, movies, ideas, history, psychology, service to others, "practical mysticism" and pragmatic practices - use all of these other things to attract, intrigue, and delight people, and to explain how faith can actually work in their lives to help them and make life better for them and for their families.

    Tuesday, July 23, 2013

    How it's done

    Another of Caelius' posts made me think about what makes the difference between a thriving parish and the ones that are sick or dying out.   The parish I attend now is a thriving one; in fact, it's one of the few I'm aware of in my diocese that is healthy and growing.

    Here are some of my thoughts about why that has happened:
    • Worship and faith.  There are 4 masses on Sunday (3 in the summer) - one being a 6 p.m. "Last Chance" mass. There is at least one prayer service every day, and I think on two days of the week a mass, too. Not very many come to these, usually - but the services are offered nonetheless, every day. The rector is a woman, and Anglo-Catholic in approach; most of the parishioners are pretty middle-of-the-road, though. There's a crucifix on the wall, but no other obvious signs of Anglo-Catholicism; they use no incense (except perhaps on special occasions - but I've never seen it).   (Oh, wait:  they do ring bells during the Consecration.)  Feast days for the upcoming week are listed in the weekly announcements bulletin that comes with the service bulletin. 

      The music director offers a great variety of hymns from the 1982 Hymnal, and occasionally hymns from other sources.  Hymns are briskly paced; this, I think, is actually more important than anybody would think.   The litany is sung on Advent 1 and Lent 1, and the late service is Rite 1 on the first Sunday of each month.  The congregation sings all the ordinary parts of the mass except the Creed; we sing the Pascha Nostrum instead of the Gloria during Easter, to Anglican Chant, and other seasonal anthems and canticles at other times of the year; we sing the Psalm except in summer when it's said.  (There are only two readings and the Psalm each week; the third is printed in the bulletin.)    The choir sings a great variety of music of all kinds, from all over the world. 

      I look very much forward to going every week, because I can count on a respectfully done and intelligent liturgy that I know well and don't have to feel afraid of.  I can absolutely rely on its detoxifying effects - and I feel, when I don't go, that I've missed something important.

    • Care for members and others:  Many families belong, and there are many kids;  many or most of the kids are part of the very strong choir program. The parish does a lot of service in the neighborhood and around the diocese and beyond; they give service a very important place in their hierarchy of values, and are involved in many long-term projects. 

      For instance, they are helping a parish destroyed by last year's hurricane with rebuilding, and donate Prayer Books, etc.  This parish gets prayed for every Sunday.  They also raise money for some of the poorer churches in the area. The kids of the parish worked to raise money to buy a service dog for a young boy, also a member, who had a degenerative disease; he died eventually, though, before they could give him the dog - and they mourned deeply for him.   That's probably one of the most important things they'll ever have done in their lives; this kind of direct, personal care is even more important, I think, than almost any other kind of service.   Prayers for special days in the lives of members always come  from the Prayer Book; we pray once a month for those celebrating wedding anniversaries - and I believe I saw the beautiful Prayer #45, "For Families," used on Mother's Day. 

      There's an independent nonprofit counseling center on the grounds, originally founded by members of the parish.  While it's independent, its presence produces a feeling of confidence that there are people close by you could go to for help if you needed it.   I used to go to this parish for the Office and for things like Stations of the Cross, and the clergy remembered and welcomed me warmly when I started coming on Sundays, too.

    • Stability.  The rector has been there for almost 20 years; I think this makes a huge difference.  It might be the single most important factor, actually, given her un-selfconscious Anglo-Catholic approach; there are also strong lay leaders who do a great deal of service (and officiate at the Daily Offices).  All of this is a great example of consistency, constancy, grounding in prayer, and dedication.  Consistent, dependable worship services every day of each week, and leaders who continue to be willing to spend their energy on all this, every week, for two decades:  that's an impressive legacy these days.   I believe the average tenure of a priest now is less than 6 years, and continues to shrink.  

      The rector always seems to hire young curates, usually somebody recently ordained; this means that the rector must preside at every mass, for at least six months - but she continues this practice faithfully.  They get very good training.  The music director, too, has been there for a couple of decades; she has her own choral ensemble outside the parish which is well known and highly regarded in the local area.  

      What has made the difference here is that the rector - and I think the music director, too - have actually dedicated the greater part of their work lives (and thus their hearts) to this parish.  They have built up something meant to last; they are, unfortunately, a vanished breed - but they are the ones who've made this parish what it is.  It's this kind of long-term dedication and constancy that matters.
    • Energy.  It may be quite difficult to combine this kind of long-view investment in stability with energy and freshness and openness to new ideas, but they are able to do it.  This seems to me the absolute best of Anglicanism, actually.

    • Egos checked at the door.   Every service is done by the book (the 1979 BCP, that is); rubrics are followed.  This demonstrates that the rector is able to keep her own ego in check, and can obey rules.  It also helps the congregation to memorize the service so we can actually pray, and not have to be looking down at the bulletin all the time.  The music director uses settings everybody knows for the service music.  Nobody makes any attempt to be special, cute, or to put an individual spin on any part of the liturgy.    Nobody's there for the sake of attracting attention to themselves, or to power-drive their own agendas over everybody else.  (You might be surprised how hard this is to come by!)

      The fact that the rector is able to low-key her Anglo-Catholicism, for the sake of her parishioners' worship style, yet still live by, and teach and preach it - well, that's another example of the ability to "check one's ego at the door." And, BTW: it also demonstrates that Anglo-Catholicism is not actually mostly about birettas.

    • Helping kids.   The choirs are very important to the kids and the parents, it's clear.  There are also scholarships for seniors going to college; choir trips to RSCM events during the summer; pilgrimages (they just went to a New Mexico monastery) and mission trips; summer Bible school; movie nights; Compline for Kids; pizza nights.  The music program is very central, though - and brings kids from other neighborhoods in, too, and other choirs, and other people who like to sing.  What's important about this is the same thing we always talk about:  healthy, grounded, dependable faith is a slow process.  People aren't going to get it immediately; after all, it took me 10 years to really feel at home with almost everything in the liturgy.  So have people sing, while they're waiting and learning!  Give them something valuable while you're teaching them something even more valuable.


    I really don't think it's more complicated than that - but of course, that's a lot.  This church is growing and healthy; they are actually spending money building, rather than digging into their endowment.   All this, in a college town in the Northeast.

    There is a lot going on, thanks to a dedicated, energetic, extremely hard-working, faithful rector who doesn't think it's all about her, and works at helping people find a stable, rich, beneficial  faith - something that's clearly at the very center of her own life.

    The Episcopal Church really doesn't have to die, you know.

    Wednesday, April 24, 2013

    "The Society of St. Julian"

    How does that grab you as the namesake and patron for our new lay religious society?

    I'd wanted to be a bit more "ecumenical" - that is to say, to avoid a specifically English slant on the thing.  But then, if I'd chosen St. Francis it would be an Italian slant.  If St. John of the Cross (definitely another possibility) it would be a Spanish slant.

    So one way or another, we're going to have to deal with geographyPerhaps The Society of St. John and St. Julian?  That way we mix it up a bit - and "reform" comes into the mix, too.

    I really have to finish Revelations of Divine Love, though!  It's actually a little bit embarrassing that here I am proposing to name a society after her - and I haven't even read all the way through her only work.  I'm in the middle of reading it now - but I have read a lot of St. John, so I've at least got that going for me. 

    Full Homely Divinity uses St. Julian as an unofficial patron - and our old friend The Postulant has written liturgies based on her writings.  I'm pretty sure that's good enough for me.

    What about you?  I do hate to leave St. Francis out of it, but some guy already went there this year, so maybe that's enough....

    Sunday, March 3, 2013

    Ross Douthat, on the Episcopal Church (2012)

    This is a Douthat article from last July - one he linked from the article I posted yesterday, "The Ratzinger Legacy."    It's about the Episcopal Church and its collapse; Douthat linked to it to compare TEC to the RCC in terms of loss of adherents/worshippers.   i.e., even though the RCC has shed members since the 1970s, TEC (and other mainline Protestant denoms) have "generally fared worse," was the point he was making.

    I keep running into people who make the "universal decline" argument  - that "well, it's happening to everybody."   Maybe so - but how can we be satisfied with that excuse?  If TEC has something valuable to offer the world - and even Douthat thinks so, he says below - then why is it "good enough" that we continue to shrink to nothingness?

    Read this piece together with "The Ratizinger Legacy" and see if you don't think that throwing the doctrine baby out with the bathwater has been the primary error.    Douthat gets nuts, of course, and goes way overboard too, with some of the usual fixations - i.e.  that TEC is "friendly to sexual liberation in almost every form" - but if, as he claims, "the defining idea of liberal Christianity — that faith should spur social reform as well as personal conversion — has been an immensely positive force in our national life" - well, how can Episcopalians be so blasรฉ about what's happening, and so uninterested in doing something to fix our problems?

    I have completely lost patience with the acceptance of this state of affairs - and with distractions and the refusal to deal with the reality.  If TEC has something to offer, it's long past time to start articulating this.  And that is the problem, in fact:  Episcopalians cannot be articulate about faith if our grasp of its fundamentals is so tenuous.   Daydreaming about political activism (what political activism, BTW?) and pretending and claiming that we're "transforming society" is an extremely poor substitute for communicating with people and explaining why faith can help them.

    Theology, please.  The process is:  learn about the faith, then offer it and teach it to others.  Aspiring to be "community activists" and political/cultural big shots is a poor substitute for simply doing what we're supposed to do.  Priests teach, preach, and administer the sacraments. Simple.  Laypeople are students, and are open to learning more.  We can work on growing spiritually.  We can help one another, and other people.  Our remit is faith, hope, and charity.   

    "Community Activism" is a fine pursuit - but nobody has to belong to the church to do it.
    IN 1998, John Shelby Spong, then the reliably controversial Episcopal bishop of Newark, published a book entitled “Why Christianity Must Change or Die.” Spong was a uniquely radical figure — during his career, he dismissed almost every element of traditional Christian faith as so much superstition — but most recent leaders of the Episcopal Church have shared his premise. Thus their church has spent the last several decades changing and then changing some more, from a sedate pillar of the WASP establishment into one of the most self-consciously progressive Christian bodies in the United States.

    As a result, today the Episcopal Church looks roughly how Roman Catholicism would look if Pope Benedict XVI suddenly adopted every reform ever urged on the Vatican by liberal pundits and theologians. It still has priests and bishops, altars and stained-glass windows. But it is flexible to the point of indifference on dogma, friendly to sexual liberation in almost every form, willing to blend Christianity with other faiths, and eager to downplay theology entirely in favor of secular political causes.

    Yet instead of attracting a younger, more open-minded demographic with these changes, the Episcopal Church’s dying has proceeded apace. Last week, while the church’s House of Bishops was approving a rite to bless same-sex unions, Episcopalian church attendance figures for 2000-10 circulated in the religion blogosphere. They showed something between a decline and a collapse: In the last decade, average Sunday attendance dropped 23 percent, and not a single Episcopal diocese in the country saw churchgoing increase.

    This decline is the latest chapter in a story dating to the 1960s. The trends unleashed in that era — not only the sexual revolution, but also consumerism and materialism, multiculturalism and relativism — threw all of American Christianity into crisis, and ushered in decades of debate over how to keep the nation’s churches relevant and vital.

    Traditional believers, both Protestant and Catholic, have not necessarily thrived in this environment. The most successful Christian bodies have often been politically conservative but theologically shallow, preaching a gospel of health and wealth rather than the full New Testament message.

    But if conservative Christianity has often been compromised, liberal Christianity has simply collapsed. Practically every denomination — Methodist, Lutheran, Presbyterian — that has tried to adapt itself to contemporary liberal values has seen an Episcopal-style plunge in church attendance. Within the Catholic Church, too, the most progressive-minded religious orders have often failed to generate the vocations necessary to sustain themselves.

    Both religious and secular liberals have been loath to recognize this crisis. Leaders of liberal churches have alternated between a Monty Python-esque “it’s just a flesh wound!” bravado and a weird self-righteousness about their looming extinction. (In a 2006 interview, the Episcopal Church’s presiding bishop explained that her communion’s members valued “the stewardship of the earth” too highly to reproduce themselves.)

    Liberal commentators, meanwhile, consistently hail these forms of Christianity as a model for the future without reckoning with their decline. Few of the outraged critiques of the Vatican’s investigation of progressive nuns mentioned the fact that Rome had intervened because otherwise the orders in question were likely to disappear in a generation. Fewer still noted the consequences of this eclipse: Because progressive Catholicism has failed to inspire a new generation of sisters, Catholic hospitals across the country are passing into the hands of more bottom-line-focused administrators, with inevitable consequences for how they serve the poor.

    But if liberals need to come to terms with these failures, religious conservatives should not be smug about them. The defining idea of liberal Christianity — that faith should spur social reform as well as personal conversion — has been an immensely positive force in our national life. No one should wish for its extinction, or for a world where Christianity becomes the exclusive property of the political right.

    What should be wished for, instead, is that liberal Christianity recovers a religious reason for its own existence. As the liberal Protestant scholar Gary Dorrien has pointed out, the Christianity that animated causes such as the Social Gospel and the civil rights movement was much more dogmatic than present-day liberal faith. Its leaders had a “deep grounding in Bible study, family devotions, personal prayer and worship.” They argued for progressive reform in the context of “a personal transcendent God ... the divinity of Christ, the need of personal redemption and the importance of Christian missions.”

    Today, by contrast, the leaders of the Episcopal Church and similar bodies often don’t seem to be offering anything you can’t already get from a purely secular liberalism. Which suggests that per haps they should pause, amid their frantic renovations, and consider not just what they would change about historic Christianity, but what they would defend and offer uncompromisingly to the world.

    Absent such a reconsideration, their fate is nearly certain: they will change, and change, and die.

    Friday, March 1, 2013

    "The Consolation of Theology: Or Why We Need Scholar Priests"

    Fr. Robert Hendrickson has written a wonderful essay about this issue as it relates to the Episcopal Church; we've been talking about it here (and elsewhere), too, for awhile now.  I'm fairly sure that anybody who reads this blog would certainly have his in their feed reader, too - but if not, please definitely do go read.

    Here's an excerpt:
    There is a general anti-intellectualism in American life. Of course, in the Episcopal Church, we pride ourselves on being exempt from such a thing. We are all too happy to talk about not having to “check your mind at the door” when you come to our churches. Yet it seems that you better be ready to do just that if you want to enter the ordination process in some of our dioceses.

    We scoff at those who read Scripture literally. Yet we are going to create a Church where the only fundamentalism we embrace is that of individual feelings.

    Doctrine – and sound training in doctrine – is essential for priestly ministry. It is part of what differentiates us from the spiritual but not religious. I think poor training in doctrine is at the root of why so many are now calling themselves spiritual but not religious. We need a generation of clergy ably trained in doctrine who can articulate what it is about our particular faith tradition that is unique and life-giving. Moreover, this cannot be done in isolation from training in other fields like psychology, philosophy, the arts, science, and more.

    We simply cannot offer any answer worth hearing if we do not have priests trained to think theologically and who can delve into our tradition in creative ways to answer complicated questions and profound doubt.

    How do we answer questions of life and death with no grounding in eschatology? How do we talk about our understanding of ordination and ministry without preparation in ecclesiology and sacramental theology? How do we defend our view of baptismal ecclesiology without adequate training in incarnational theology? How do we talk of Body and Blood without using all of our gifts of history and theology to articulate where we stand as Anglicans?

    These are not esoteric questions being asked only on the close or the quad at our seminaries. These questions are at the heart of pastoral ministry.

    When someone asks you, “What happens when my mother dies?” When someone asks you, “Why is this happening?” When someone asks you, “Why should I baptize my child?” When someone asks you, “Am I a bad person for seeking a divorce?” from an abusive spouse. When someone asks you, “Why all this sacrificial language?”

    There are innumerable questions and there are those hard stories we all hear that challenge our faith.

    And another:
    Doctrine is not about right answers – it is about right relationships. Doctrine is that which encodes our relationship with the Triune God and with one another. It is our ultimate guarantee of dignity for it lays out our compact as the beloved of God. Sound doctrine defends and defines the fullness of human nature and worth. Without it, we only have human perception to rely upon which too quickly turns to manipulation and capitulation.

    We need priests passionate about asking deep questions about doctrine and dignity. We need academic priests.

    Especially in a time when we are wrestling with just how many parishes can afford a full-time priest – we are almost deranged to turn away those who might have a gainful way to support themselves while at the same time enriching the lives of their faith communities by their learning. We need many other kinds of priests as well but we are doing serious harm to our Church’s future and our ability to have any kind of relevant voice in the theological questions of the future without raising up a generation of scholar-priests who are faithful, curious, and spiritually grounded.

    We should be seeking out faithful academics to call into priestly ministry and supporting priests who might have an academic vocation in every way possible. We cannot afford to have an academy divorced from the day-in and day-out practice of ministry and we cannot afford to have priests who are not devoted to faithful inquiry.

    As the bumper sticker says, “If you think education is expensive, try ignorance.”

    I've been in the doldrums lately, and have realized I'm not doing very well; nothing terribly serious, but I'm in a slump and have started to isolate again (a typical problem for me).  I started praying about this recently and all of a sudden I've started to become more alive and involved with other people and with the world.   Just today I met an acquaintance from church at the market, and we agreed to get together on a social basis sometime soon.  (Interesting how these things happen this way, I'm always surprised to note!)  

    I'm thinking it's time to begin to get active about some of these ideas, including:
    • My lay society dedicated to prayer, study, and discussion.  I still haven't come to any conclusions about its "patron" or about how it would actually work, but I shouldn't let that stop me; we need to be talking to and praying for one another.  (And actually I think a "service" aspect of this is going to be necessary as well.)  And then also, to begin working on
    • The Catechism Project

    Wednesday, February 6, 2013

    More on "renewal"

    Here's a recent post, "Nine Texts Towards Catholic renewal in Parishes," from "The Catholic Anglican - the blog of Akenside Press."  I've just discovered this site; Scott, who sometimes comments here, directed my attention to it.  (Thank you, Scott!)  The blog seems to have been around since early 2012 or so.  I must say  that it's really nice to see these kinds of sites springing up in many and various places these days!

    This recommendation is all by way of naked self-interest, of course; once I realized that I couldn't find what I was looking for - what I need, in fact - in most local parishes, I knew it was time to do something about it myself.  I've begun to think, too, that the reason I can't find it is that the Episcopal Church on the whole isn't sure what it's actually for, these days.   It seems to have given up on finding its purpose in "formation" - and has launched off into "activism" instead.

    But as the author of "The Catholic Anglican" notes:
    Catholic renewal in Anglican parishes requires a concerted effort to focus all available energy on parish formation. It is just that simple. Within its liturgical and sacramental life, a parish does outreach to the hungry, the needy, the sick, the marginalized — and a parish does formation for its parishioners. Period.

    I really, really like simple.  I'm glad to see the church's mission boiled down into - ahem - a "Primary Purpose," consisting of two simple parts.  Now we're getting someplace!  And I think these two points are exactly right, too; they can be excellent guideposts for any parish at any time it's faced with any sort of choice or area of confusion.  It can ask itself:  Which choice best contributes to our "primary purpose"?   It's so much easier to work things through when you have a guidestar like that.  Simplify, simplify!   A "primary purpose" is refreshing for the mind and heart and soul, and can bring you easily and happily back to first principles.

    Here are the texts he suggests:
    1. English Spirituality, by Martin Thornton
    2. The Book of Common Prayer
    3. The Bible
    4. Enchiridion, by St Augustine
    5. Rule, by St Benedict
    6. Proslogion, by St Anselm
    7. The Scale of Perfection, by Walter Hilton
    8. Revelations, by Julian of Norwich
    9. Principles of Christian Theology, by John Macquarrie
    10. Whatever text or texts you want
    I wish the Thornton book weren't $40!  I've requested a Kindle version, so maybe they'll get that going at some point.  Maybe meantime I can find it at the local library.  The others, happily, are available for nothing online (here, for instance).  I need to read the Augustine and Anselm things, and finish the Walter Hilton and Julian books.  Never read the Macquarrie one, either, but will see if that's a freebie someplace too.

    Here's what he lists under #10 (and I do like the idea of an open-ended point like this):
    And this list concludes. Or it continues. Let it be said again: this is a syllabus of “good food” for Anglican parochial renewal, not an exhaustive list of every worthwhile book an Anglican must own. Of course any Catholic renewal in Anglican parishes in going to involve study and integration of theological insights of texts beyond those listed here.

    Anglicans look to other sources within Anglican tradition. These include N.T. WrightEphraim RadnerSarah Coakley,Alister McGrath, and John Milbank. Many seek renewal from the just-retired Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. Many still look to C.B. Moss and F.P. Harton. Other study Carolines like Richard Hooker and Tractarians like Blessed John Henry Newman.

    Anglicans look also the rest of the Christian world. These include the Eastern Church, to Orthodox theologians past and present: excellent examples are Alexander Schmemann andJohn Behr, as well as Eastern fathers (e.g., the Popular Patristic Series from St Vladimir’s Seminary Press). Anglicans look to the Roman Church, for quite understandable reasons: their tradition (like that of Eastern Orthodoxy) has immeasurable richness, with the current officeholder of the Bishop of Rome, Pope Benedict XVI, a wonderful example, along with St Thomas AquinasHans Urs von Balthasar, and far too many more to list here. Some Anglicans look to non-Catholic traditions, whether from the Reformation Era or present day — such as Martin LutherJohn Calvin, and more recently, Karl Barth, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Still others see the “post-liberal” framework of George Lindbeck and Bruce Marshall for its renewal promise and framework.

    All faithful Anglicans — and faithful Christians in general — look to the early Church for theological renewal, beginning with our noble army of Martyrs: as well we should. “Whatever text or texts you want” means that into the basic diet of the English School we integrate a variety of influences. Thornton himself is full of additional recommendations, in particular theAncrene Riwle and works by Hugh of St VictorAelred of RievaulxMargery KempeRichard RolleJeremy Taylor, and E.L. Mascall.

    The possibilities continue indefinitely. But throughout it all, let us not forget the English School. Let us return time and time again to its strength, its patience, its gentleness — let us live with these works — for they fuel nothing less than Prayer Book Catholicism. 

    It's good to have suggestions like this, and I like the idea of a list of 10 things to read, too.

    I understand where he's coming from with the "Catholic" thing - but wish we could leave it out.  You don't have to be "Catholic" to appreciate any of these things, and I'm worried it's an artificial division that will leave some people wondering if it's for them.

    But, maybe not.  Anyway, I'm very happy to see what I think is something of a movement in the direction of  the wonderful simplicity of "outreach to the hungry, the needy, the sick, the marginalized, and formation for parishioners."   Let's do it!

    It could be that now is the time to really get going on my idea for a new lay movement - and base its Primary Purpose and function on the two simple ideas above.  I have been thinking about the 14th-century Jesuati - and also Little Gidding and the Ferrar family - and wondering if either of those could provide something of a model for us.  And since my original idea was that the movement would to be "dedicated to study, discussion, and prayer [and possibly writing]," it could be a really, really good idea to follow The Catholic Anglican's suggestions here and use these books as study materials.

    Things are happening!

    Wednesday, January 23, 2013

    Steps and Traditions

    In A.A., as I'm sure everybody knows by now, there are 12 of each.

    What's interesting is that they pull in opposite directions.  The Steps look forward from the present into the future (but taking an individual's past into full account); they are primarily about change.  

    The Traditions - as the name itself implies! - are a look into the past; they are based on empirical discoveries that A.A. as a whole made in its first 20 years or so, and codify these discoveries.  They are primarily about preservation.

    They are, in other words, "like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old."

    The Traditions, it's sometimes said, are "Steps for the Groups."  They are foundational principles - and in fact they are the "cornerstone" that allow the Steps to be in the business of redesigning human beings from the ground up.  They are the things that make real revolution - great, sweeping change - possible.  They are the house built upon the rock so that the wind - the Spirit, that is - can blow where and as it will.

    The church knows what its "Traditions" are.  What's that old Lancelot Andrewes formula?  "One Canon, two Testaments, three Creeds, four General Councils, five centuries and the series of Fathers in that period determine the boundaries of our faith.”

    The church doesn't quite know what its Steps are, though; it sometimes doesn't even seem to know it's in the business of  helping people get rebuilt from the ground up.  It needs to be much more clear and specific about this; it needs to get clear about it, itself, in fact.

    Pay attention to what the monastics have said; they're the adepts of our faith - our Gurus.  If you can't be a mendicant friar - and most can't - then be a Benedictine, and pray seven times a day.   Follow a Rule.   The church could offer its own modified Rule, in fact; why not?    Such a rule (or set of Steps) would be completely optional; nobody forces anybody to do the Steps in A.A. - but if everybody around you is working through them, and talking about the huge difference they are making in their lives - well, perhaps you will get jealous and maybe give them a try, too.

    Pay attention to what works.  Pay attention, too, to the fact that the Steps are reports; the formula is to use the past tense and the first person plural.  "We admitted...."  "[We] made a searching and fearless moral inventory...."  "[We] humbly asked [God] to remove our shortcomings."


    Monday, January 21, 2013

    The "A.A. Promises"

    Here's another section from the book Alcoholics Anonymous that often gets read at the start of meetings - although it really probably shouldn't be read outside its context.

    Chapter 6, "Into Action," describes in some detail the process of working through each Step.  The following  "Promises" come at the end of the description of the 9th Step, the final "clearing away the wreckage of the past" Step:
    If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

    Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them. (Alcoholics Anonymous, pp. 83-84)

    You can understand why this does get read, though; it's to give people who've totally messed up their lives some reasons for hope that it can and will at some point get better.

    My point in posting this here is simple:  the church should really think through and write out something like this, since at this point people are mostly completely unaware of the benefits of Christianity, and think it's only about "rules" and "morality."

    Well, "morality" is and always has been only a means to an end:  human flourishing.   This is why, in Psalm 119, the psalmist can say:  "Lord, how I love Thy law! It is my meditation all the day."   When what might seem to be a mere duty is instead a joy, it's because it means freedom and a better way of life.

    Would anybody really want to join up with a group just to follow what may seem to be an arbitrary set of "rules"?  I can't imagine anybody would.  But to learn a new a way of life that has results like those described above?   That might indeed interest people.  I actually agree with Derek when he describes "the complacent conscience" - although I would put it differently, I think.  Perhaps I'd just use the same words Derek himself uses later on in that same post:  "a yet more excellent way awaits."  The problem, I think, is that people just don't know about this.

    I don't disagree with him, either, that "effort and action" are important in that process; in fact, that's exactly what the Steps are about - and that's exactly what it says up there in that second paragraph.  The Steps are indirect methods of addressing the things that block and stunt us and keep us from becoming free.  Nobody can "be more compassionate" on command or just because they want to - but we can get there by stripping away our delusions about ourselves, and thus recognizing how subject we all are to delusion and self-deceit.  We can learn to forgive others by recognizing where we've been  wrong - that we need forgiveness ourselves. 

    As they say in A.A.:  it's an inside job.   Luckily, they say this in the monasteries, too; remember when we were talking about "Christian adepts"?  Here's what Sr. Helรฉna Marie, CHS, has to say about that in "What the Religious Life Is and Is Not" (my bolding below, in the parts I want to pick out especially):
    Coming to a religious life may seem like the ultimate escape: a serene, untroubled life of continuous prayer and withdrawal from the stresses and distractions of the fast-paced worldly life. On some level, conscious or not, it may also seem like a place where one can hide out, not only from the world and its difficult people, but also from one's self and one's problems. It may seem like an ideal retirement community, or like a kind of sorority of sisters (or fraternity of brothers) who all get along and have a good time together. One may think it will be a place of solitude where the nitty-gritty of daily relationships will have been left behind, or a place of last resort: "Nothing else in my life has really worked out; maybe this will." Even in our more enlightened times, one may have the classic notion that it is the place to which you go after a failed romance: "I guess I'll just have to take myself to a monastery."

    The religious life is none of these.

    It is not an escape. It is a terribly realistic life in which you find yourself unable to escape from others, from the problems of the world, and from yourself. The outlets normal to life in the world are largely unavailable here, so you are up against the difficulties which surface without the ability to distract yourself in extraneous pursuits that may previously have helped you avoid them.

    It is not a place to hide from others nor from yourself. Whatever you have found difficult in others in the past, you will find difficult here. Every character flaw that drove you crazy in others before you entered will drive you crazy here, too, except that here you are living twenty-four hours a day with those who have them! Nor will you be able to hide from whatever in yourself you would rather not face. The formation process in community will naturally bring out those aspects of yourself which might prefer to remain hidden. Your shadow will become apparent to you (as it has probably always been apparent to others), and you will have to face it, accept it, and eventually own it as a creative part of yourself. As Brother Clark Berge, SSF, says: "The religious life is no way to hide from problems. If you try to hide, they will find you out."

    It is not a serene, untroubled lifestyle. A monastery schedule is demanding, and the day-to-day life is characterized by many of the same troubles and obligations one finds in the world: leaky plumbing, daily meals to be cooked, difficult people, short nights, the demands of ministry and daily work, and so on. It is not a place to retire. Religious basically do not retire. If comfortable retirement is what you seek, you would be better off not to enter the religious life. Members of religious communities contribute in whatever ways they can as long as they live.

    It is also not a place to come for physical care as the body begins to wear out. Of course we care for our older members, and for those who have physical ailments, but most orders are careful not to admit members who either seek this kind of care from the outset or show signs of needing physical care soon.

    It is not a college club. We do try to get along, but it would be a mistake to join a religious community for the purpose of finding acceptance within a community of men and/or women.

    It may not be a life with long, uninterrupted periods of prayer. In fact, you may be surprised to find that you seen to have less time for individual prayer and meditation than before you entered. The demands of community and ministry make a constant schedule of long periods of prayer in solitude impossible. We do have much prayer in our lives (several periods of corporate prayer a day, an hour or two for individual meditation, and silent prayer undergird our actions throughout the day). However, if you are looking for hours on end of private time for prayer, you will not find it in most religious communities.

    It is not a place of last resort. It is a common notion that women (in particular) join a religious order because there are no other options available; that they cannot find a life partner, cannot succeed in a career, do not have the intelligence and competence to do anything other than come to the monastery. On the contrary, the religious life is full of women and men who are highly competent and intelligent, and who bring extraordinary gifts to community and to the service of God. Similarly, it is not a good idea to join a religious community because you feel that nothing else in your life has worked and that the religious life is your last viable option. One joins to give all that one is and has, from fullness rather than from lack of other choices.

    It is not a place to come on the rebound from a failed romance or marriage. It is necessary to work through the emotions generated from a failed relationship before entering the community. The religious life is not a salve for a broken heart (nor a punishment for having failed). The religious life is the ultimate form of surrender. One brings all that one is and all that one has to God in a gesture of complete giving. It is a way of "coming to the desert". Like the desert mothers and fathers of the early Christian era, joining a religious community is a countercultural move away from mainstream culture and mores, to a radical lifestyle that flies in the face of societal values.

    It is a way of saying that your life is now devoted to the One Thing (however you would define this; Jesus called it "the pearl of great price"). It is a life centered in prayer; this basic orientation is one of the ways in which we are countercultural.


    It is community with all that means: difficult people, the "sandpaper effect" of challenging relationships, having to change when the impulse is not to change, and the joys of relationships and corporate life. It is a way of life designed to help one transcend the ego, which does not willingly go. This path involved intense struggle. The religious life is itself a vehicle of radical transformation.

    It is a form of service to God and the world. Through worship and our different forms of ministry, we seek to serve. It is a combination of the ancient and the modern. It is an evolving organism. Most communities are in a state of constant evolution; one is best served knowing this before entering.

    It is a place wherein one grows in the ability to love—the heart of the religious life. Brothers and sisters are a prophetic voice within the church, calling the church out of complacency and adherence to conventional wisdom and practice, and into a more challenging and radical living out of the gospel message of Jesus Christ.

    This section is the one that's key, to me:  "It is a way of life designed to help one transcend the ego, which does not willingly go. This path involved intense struggle. The religious life is itself a vehicle of radical transformation."

    And so:  "the complacent conscience" has plenty of work to do.  A hankering after "The Promises" - whatever they happen to be for the church - combined with a path that "involves intense struggle"-  are quite enough to occupy a person for a lifetime.

    But I do think that "the Promises" need to be fleshed out and enumerated, because it seems to me that people are unaware of all of this now.  Most people aren't seeking "mystical experience" for its own sake anymore - because, I would imagine, the church doesn't let people know it's available or possible.   They're not seeking "enlightenment" for much the same reason; nobody's aware anymore that it's an option - and rules for rules' sake seems just plain nuts.  Which of course it is.

    The spiritual life and mystical experience are, though - as Evelyn Underhill wrote - available to anybody.  Whatever the church works out may not be quite the same as what you find in the monastery - but it does exist.

    And it's all about the inner person.  The church needs to make people aware that this is its remit;  that "the Promises" exist, and that everybody can seek after them.

    "How it Works"

    A group of recovering alcoholics published the book Alcoholics Anonymous in 1939 as an announcement to the world that they had discovered something new:  a means of achieving sobriety by meeting together, talking about their experiences when drinking (and their lives as they learned to stay sober), and "carrying the message to the alcoholic who still suffers."   They created, in other words, a tract - and they did it the old-fashioned way, via the printed word.  It had to be more, though, than just a pamphlet; it needed to have a clear description and explanation of what had happened to them and to their lives - and it needed to have some of the flavor of an A.A. meeting, since after all that was where recovery actually took place.  As a nod to the latter, it included personal histories of the kind you still hear today at meetings.  And people actually got sober through reading the book, months and years before meetings could be started up in their local area.  That was part of the idea, too (and actually A.A. still has

    A.A. members, in other words, believed their program to be of such "great weight and import" that they wrote a detailed book about it so others who were the same kind of trouble they'd been in could find help.   I suggest the Episcopal Church in particular could take a lesson here.

    Here's the first part of Chapter 5, titled "How It Works";  this is still very often one of the first things read at A.A. meetings, since new people continue to make their way into A.A. rooms. 
    How It Works

    Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves. There are such unfortunates. They are not at fault; they seem to have been born that way. They are naturally incapable of grasping and developing a manner of living which demands rigorous honesty. Their chances are less than average. There are those, too, who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest.

    Our stories disclose in a general way what we used to be like, what happened, and what we are like now. If you have decided you want what we have and are willing to go to any lengths to get it--then you are ready to take certain steps.

    At some of these we balked; we thought we could find an easier, softer way. But we could not. With all the earnestness at our command, we beg of you to be fearless and thorough from the very start. Some of us have tried to hold on to our old ideas and the result was nil until we let go absolutely.

    Remember that we deal with alcohol--cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us. But there is One who has all power--that One is God. May you find Him now!

    Half measures availed us nothing. We stood at the turning point. we asked His protection and care with complete abandon.

    Here are the steps we took, which are suggested as a program of recovery:
    1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol-- that our lives had become unmanageable.
    2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
    3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God AS WE UNDERSTOOD HIM.
    4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
    5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
    6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
    7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
    8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
    9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
    10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
    11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God AS WE UNDERSTOOD HIM, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
    12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

    Many of us exclaimed, "What an order! I can't go through with it." Do not be discouraged. No one among us has been able to maintain anything like perfect adherence to these principles. We are not saints. The point is, that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines. The principles we have set down are guides to progress. We claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection.

    Our description of the alcoholic, the chapter to the agnostic, and our personal adventures before and after make clear three pertinent ideas:

    (a) That we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives.
    (b) That probably no human power could have relieved our alcoholism.
    (c) That God could and would if He were sought.


    As you can see, this section includes a listing of the 12 Steps; these came of out the practices of the Oxford Group (not the Oxford Movement!),  a religious organization started in England in 1921 (and originally called "A First Century Christian Fellowship" - and doesn't that sound like still another ad fontes movement?) by a kooky American Lutheran pastor who'd had a conversion experience in Keswick, England in 1908.

    Lutherans, of course, are still quite aware that people as people need help - and that "probably no human power" can provide it.   Most Evangelicals are very aware of human failings, also; they're quite wrong about certain things, of course, and can be terrifically obnoxious about them - but they do believe they're in the business of helping people to live, because we're faced with lots of difficulties merely because we're  human beings (i.e. "fallen").   Catholics believe this also, and have developed many ways to deal with human problems (Confession being one of the most obvious); so do the Orthodox.

    You don't hear much about this in the Episcopal Church, though - and maybe particularly not the current iteration.  Mostly what you hear, in fact, is that the problems are all out there; "Occupying Wall Street" is the focus these days.  This is a general weakness in Anglicanism, I do believe - Confession, for instance, exists, but "All may, none must, and some should" (and so almost none do) - and as long as the focus remains on external issues the Episcopal Church will never attract people who need help themselves - or who will admit they do.  It all creates a closed, self-perpetuating loop - so people will continue to argue, in saecula saeculorum, that "the problems are all out there."  (This isn't true, of course - but it is convenient.)

    This, I think, is a legacy issue, too - and perhaps it only happens in the U.S., where the Episcopal Church has been, for generations, the church of the elites.  Notice that when "Occupy Wall Street" arguments are made, it's simply assumed that everybody in the Episcopal Church - except the "1%" -  is perfectly OK as is.   Notice that so many arguments center in the parable of the Rich Young Man - and always come from the point of view of the Rich Young Man!  Notice that it's assumed that everybody in the Episcopal Church has plenty of disposable time and income to "get out in the streets." to .... well, whatever.   (Notice, too, while we're at it, that this approach allows people to avoid ever having to confront any of their own sins!)   The upshot is that nobody seems ever to think that it's crucial to direct energy to helping people in the church - but that's what religion is actually for, at base.  (The outward focus seems, to this outsider, to have come at least in part out of the trauma around the move to the new Prayer Book.   People still seem to be living that out still, 35 years later, and I get the impression that the focus was turned outward in part to head a "rebellion in the pews" off at the pass.  I could be wrong about this, though.)

    "Good works" are great, of course, and a natural outgrowth of the Judeo-Christian system and experience.  But if you can't offer hurting people any reason to come to the church to get help for themselves because the basic assumption is that "we're OK - it's everybody else who needs help" - well, why should anybody come?  Who will these hurting people have to talk to?  How will the people who think they're OK ever get anywhere interesting, spiritually?  What will anybody have to offer to people, except money?  How will the focus ever get put on anything other than material things?  It's a big problem, I think, with a serious (perhaps fatal) contradiction built right in.

    I posted the section above because I think the Episcopal Church could maybe think about How It Works, and what it offers people that they can't get anywhere else - and what it should do to turn the focus back inward so it can actually offer that help....

    Sunday, January 20, 2013

    So...why?

    Why do people belong to the church?  That is the question.

    I'm here because of what seems in retrospect to be a really strange series of events.   In approximately chronological order:
    • My years of membership in A.A., which encourages members to return to - or, as in my case, begin - religious practice;
    • 9-11.  I was one of the thousands of people who returned to church, and one of the dozens (maybe?) who stayed there;
    • A feeling of "being called" because of a conversion experience;
    • Experiencing some of the really beautiful things worship has to offer:  music, rites, ceremonies, readings.  Sung Rite I Morning Prayer; monotone chanting of the Creed; the Lumen Christi at the Easter Vigil; All Saints' Day, and its beautiful readings and themes; Anglo-Catholic ceremonial (at which, the first time I saw it, I was rendered literally speechless); etc.
    • The pure enjoyment of learning more about the church and the faith, and their history;
    • Realizing that religion was far more interesting than I ever thought - and also more beneficial in a variety of ways;
    • Learning still more through writing about church music and liturgy; 
    • Coming to realize that there's nothing more beautiful or true than the Christian story, and more or less "falling in love," permanently.  (Also called "being hooked.")
    So, at this point I feel like I won't ever leave - even if I stop attending.  I did stop, for about a year - although while not going I did break down and attend now and then so I could celebrate some of my favorite days:  Ash Wednesday,  Palm Sunday, All Saints, Advent.  I never stopped reading and studying and writing, though - and those things carried me through that time.

    I remembered how to pray again - and have not yet forgotten again.  (It's much easier to remember when you get into serious trouble, or have difficult or unfamiliar things to face!)  So actually I really am still here for the original reason I came - the simplest reason of all:  to keep myself together and spiritually balanced.  It's much easier to live that way, and less painful.

    All that has taught me that I really do need the church to be about faith - and rather deeply so.  I'm definitely not here for political reasons; I had no trouble at all doing politics in all those 35+ years I spent outside  the church.  I'm not here for friendship, although spiritual friends can be a wonderful benefit.  (I have run into trouble with churchpeople from the beginning, actually - on many occasions about the gay thing but also in other ways - and am frankly a little leery of getting involved with anybody in the church at the moment, at least in my area.  Maybe that will go away at some point.).  I'm not here for "good works"; I've done volunteer work all my life, participating as part of the very wide variety of nonprofits that exist out there - although I do admit the urge to do this came out of the Methodist tradition my parents grew up in.  I like the music - but I could live without it if I had to.   I like the pretty buildings, but again:  could live without.

    I'm really here strictly for the spiritual benefits - and the deep beauty - of the faith itself.  I've found the Great Church Year to be a treasure; as the seasons pass I learn more and more and feel more and more at home in their rhythms and moods.  I don't find most of what happens in the world of much interest by itself - but in the light of the faith I find the world itself fascinating.  I've become familiar - in a really lovely way - with the liturgy itself, and look forward to finding more substance in it every year.

    I don't know why anybody else belongs - but most people don't get a chance to experience the glories of the Great Church Year.  I only do, really, because I write about it and because I make an effort to attend the feasts in person when I can; you have to make such an effort, because they are simply not celebrated in most parishes.

    I also don't know anybody else personally who's an A.A. member trying to "stay in conscious contact with God as we understand Him."  I do know some people from online who are in this situation, though.  And I do know people who've returned to church after a personal crisis or who live lives of regular spiritual crisis, and I assume this is the same sort of situation.

    I don't know how many people experience the real enjoyment I have in learning about the church and about Anglicanism; I've learned a lot of this stuff online and from outside reading.

    I don't know anybody else who had the kind of conversion experience I did, either.

    I had an idea of what I wanted to say when I started this, but at this point it looks like I'm just thinking out loud here.  I'm finding it very helpful lately to try to get to the source of causes and original motives for actions and ways of thinking that seem very complicated; I'm trying to break these things down to the very most basic facts.

    Maybe I'll come back to my original idea in another post, but at the moment it escapes me....