Monthly Archives: January 2010

The Earthquake in Haiti

Posted on by
Reply

Others are keeping much closer track than I. I’ve posted on Grace’s home page links to Episcopal news sites, ERD, and our diocese’s Haiti project. Bishop Miller’s appeal is here.

Natural disasters bring out the best and worst in Christians. The best is the immediate response to help; the worst is the inevitable assertion that the earthquake is God’s will, or even worse, statements like that of Pat Robertson today.

Of course, it’s the same Pat Robertson who thanked God after praying that Virginia Beach might be spared a hurricane and not caring that the hurricane instead hit North Carolina.

Hilary of Poitiers, 367

Posted on by
Reply

Hilary was bishop of Poitiers and an important defender of Nicene trinitarianism. Conflict with Emperor Constantius led to his exile in Phrygia. He authored hymns, one of which appears in The Hymnal 1982. His most important theological was probably On the Trinity. Theologically, this was overshadowed by Augustine’s On the Trinity of the early fifth century.

But it is interesting in itself. He begins with himself, with his spiritual autobiography, but also with theological anthropology, just as Augustine would later do in his own trinitarian reflections.

7. Therefore, although my soul drew joy from the apprehension of this august and unfathomable Mind, because it could worship as its own Father and Creator so limitless an Infinity, yet with a still more eager desire it sought to know the true aspect of its infinite and eternal Lord, that it might be able to believe that that immeasurable Deity was apparelled in splendour befitting the beauty of His wisdom. Then, while the devout soul was baffled and astray through its own feebleness, it caught from the prophet’s voice this scale of comparison for God, admirably expressed, By the greatness of His works and the beauty of the things that He has made the Creator of worlds is rightly discerned. Wisdom 13:5 The Creator of great things is supreme in greatness, of beautiful things in beauty. Since the work transcends our thoughts, all thought must be transcended by theMaker. Thus heaven and air and earth and seas are fair: fair also the whole universe, as the Greeks agree, who from its beautiful ordering call it κόσμος, that is, order. But if our thought can estimate this beauty of the universe by a natural instinct— an instinct such as we see in certain birds and beasts whose voice, though it fall below the level of our understanding, yet has a sense clear to them though they cannot utter it, and in which, since all speech is the expression of some thought, therelies a meaning patent to themselves— must not the Lord of this universal beauty be recognised as Himself most beautiful amid all the beauty that surrounds Him? For though the splendour of His eternal glory overtax our mind’s best powers, it cannot fail to see that He is beautiful. We must in truth confess that God is most beautiful, and that with a beauty which, though it transcend our comprehension, forces itself upon our perception.

8. Thus my mind, full of these results which by its own reflection and the teaching of Scripture it had attained, rested with assurance, as on some peaceful watchtower, upon that glorious conclusion, recognising that its true nature made it capable of one homage to its Creator, and of none other, whether greater or less; the homage namely of conviction that His is a greatness too vast for our comprehension but not for our faith. For a reasonable faith is akin to reason and accepts its aid, even though that same reason cannot cope with the vastness of eternal Omnipotence.

9. Beneath all these thoughts lay an instinctive hope, which strengthened my assertion of the faith, in some perfect blessedness hereafter to be earned by devout thoughts concerning God and upright life; the reward, as it were, that awaits the triumphant warrior. For true faith in God would pass unrewarded, if the soul be destroyed by death, and quenched in the extinction of bodily life. Even unaided reason pleaded that it was unworthy of God to usher man into an existence which has some share of His thought and wisdom, only to await the sentence of life withdrawn and of eternal death; to create him out of nothing to take his place in the World, only that when he has taken it he may perish. For, on the only rational theory of creation, its purpose was that things non-existent should come into being, not that things existing should cease to be. (from New Advent)

What fascinates me is how he speaks of his “soul” and “mind” as independent things, certainly independent of the “I” speaking, and also of his body, as weighing down the soul’s efforts to attain to the mind of God. Perhaps I’ll read more, if I have time.


Aelred of Rievaulx

Posted on by
Reply

Today, January 12, is the commemoration of Aelred of Rievaulx in the liturgical calendar. Aelred was abbot of the Cistercian Abbey of Rievaulx in Yorkshire, England and part of that twelfth-century flowering of Cistercian spirituality. Bernard of Clairvaux overshadows all of the other Cistercian authors of the period and indeed many of their writings seem derivative or pale imitations of his. But one might think of it another way. Bernard was the genius of course, but others like Aelred were so imbued with the same spiritual perspective that when they wrote about it their experience and about the spiritual, they were bound to use language and imagery that echoes Bernard.

In fact Bernard urged Aelred to write his most popular work (at least in his own day), The Mirror of Charity.

I read the following from another of his works Spiritual Friendship this morning:

How right and proper it then becomes to grieve for one another, to toil for one another, to bear each other’s burdens, when each finds his pleasure in neglecting himself in favour of his friend, in preferring the other’s will to his own, in putting his friend’s needs first, in setting himself in the way of whatever threatens. How delightful it is meanwhile to talk together, to confide one’s aspirations, to try and ponder and weigh, and arrive at the same conclusions! And on top of all this, reciprocal prayer, which gains in efficacy with the depth of the affection that inspires it, accompanied by the tears precipitated by anxiety, released by emotion or called forth by grief. And while one is entreating Christ in one’s friend’s favour and seeking to be heard, one is stretching out towards Cjhrist himself in love and longing, and comes the moment when suddenly one’s affection passes from one object to another without one’s being aware; and as though one were experiencing at close quarters the sweetness of Christ in person, one begins to taste for oneself the delights of his presence. So it is that we ascend from that love, already holy, with which we embrace our friend, to the love with which we embrace Christ, thus savouring joyfully and freely the fruit of spiritual friendship; whose plenitude we look for in the future, when the mutual anxieties that beset us will have been wiped out, and the difficulties that we now must bear for one another’s sake have been dispelled, when death’s sting is no more and death itself destroyed–that sting whose wearisome pricks compel us so frequently to weep for one another–when security at last is ours. Then shall we enjoy that sovereign good for all eternity, then will the friendship to which here we can admit but few be poured out upon all, and thence back into God who shall be all in all.

While there is a great deal of Bernard in this text–I think especially of the use of very physical imagery like “taste” and “embrace” to describe spiritual experience, this passage at least is also highly evocative of Augustine. He may be describing his own experience of spiritual friendship, but I also could read this as a commentary on Confessions Book IX in which Augustine describes his relationship with his mother, and especially their shared experience at Ostia and her subsequent death.

William Laud

Posted on by
Reply

The January calendar of Lesser Feasts and Fasts (no, I’m not going to address Holy Men and Holy Women) has one of my least favorite commemorations, that of William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury. Fortunately for my Protestant sympathies there is still no commemoration of King Charles I.

Even though my liturgical sensibilities tend toward the Angl0-Catholic, as I said in a recent post, I’m always rooting for the Protestants in the English Reformation. Certainly that’s true when we get to the seventeenth century (and let’s be real, the English Reformation didn’t end until the Restoration in 1660). But Laud is no hero of mine. Even if his liturgical sympathies corresponded to mine, his political ones did not. And besides that, he lacked political sense. His attempt to impose a prayer book on the Scottish church was bone-headed, and his whole-hearted support for Charles I was all about putting your money on the wrong horse. Charles may have been deeply religious and of authentic faith, but scholars agree that he was not a very good ruler, apparently not terribly intelligent.

True, the Presbyterians and Puritans were pressing their point, but surely some compromise short of revolution was possible.

As I write this, I wonder about the relevance of the seventeenth century experience for contemporary Anglicanism. It may be that we have an Archbishop of Canterbury and Primates who are urging centralization when there are powerful forces moving the other direction.

For more information on Laud, the place to begin is Affirming Laudianism. Hattip to David Sibley.

Baptism of Our Lord

Posted on by
Reply

Baptism of our Lord

January 10, 2010

Some of you know that I grew up Mennonite. It’s not something I talk about a lot, if only because I’ve gotten tired of telling the story over the years. For many of you, the term “Mennonite” conjures up people who dress in funny clothes, drive around with horse and buggies, or bring choirs to sing at the Dane County Farmer’s Market. Well, all of those things are true, I suppose, but that doesn’t at all describe my upbringing. The only funny clothes I wore growing up were the clothes we all wore in the 70s and I’ve never driven a horse and buggy. The Mennonite community in which I was raised had abandoned most of its peculiar dress and ways in the first half of the twentieth century and now if you were to visit my mother’s church, the people would look very much like typical Midwesterners.

That is not to say there are not, and were not, oddities about the Mennonite Church and over time, I’m sure I will have more to say about them and Corrie would be happy to share with you her take on them. My journey from the Mennonite Church of my childhood to the Episcopal priesthood was a long and winding road filled with wrong turns, the occasional dead-end, and a few visits to the ditch.

One of the roadblocks for me was infant baptism. The roots of the Mennonite Church lie in the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century and with a group of people who rejected infant baptism, arguing that only baptism of adults, made after a mature confession of faith, was valid. What I find interesting in my own journey is that while I came to accept the theological arguments in defense of infant baptism relatively quickly, imagining myself baptizing a baby took a very long time. My spiritual forebears had given their lives because of their commitment to adult believer’s baptism, and if you look at the 39 Articles in the back of the Book of Common Prayer, you can read the denunciation there of the practice of adult baptism.

I say all that because today we are baptizing both children and an adult. We don’t often do that in the Episcopal Church, but I suspect that as our culture changes and becomes more secular, we will be doing more and more of it. Jewel Rose will be taking the big step in a few minutes, and with her will be Cade and Phoebe Seep. I will ask all of them if they want to be baptized; during our run-through yesterday, all three of them answered that question for themselves, and I hope they will today, too. But the next set of questions, Jewel will answer for herself, while Cade and Phoebe’s parents and godparents will respond on their behalf.

It is traditional that we baptize on this day, the First Sunday after the Epiphany, because it is on this day, each year, that we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord, Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptizer in the River Jordan. It may seem somewhat strange that we do this now, when we have just celebrated Jesus’ birth a little over two weeks ago, Jesus’ baptism marks the beginning of his public ministry, and except for Luke’s mention of Jesus’ visit to the temple when he was twelve, the gospels are completely silent about Jesus’ childhood.

We heard Luke’s version of Jesus’ baptism as the gospel today, and well, having taught Bible all those years, I can’t resist pointing out the most interesting piece of Luke’s story. Unfortunately, the lectionary editors left the most interesting part of the story out. You will notice that several verses of chapter 3 were left out of the gospel reading. The reason they were left out was because in them, Luke tells the story of John’s arrest by Herod. In other words, in the Gospel of Luke, John the Baptist is arrested before Luke mentions Jesus’ baptism. Now there are good reasons for this. It’s not that Luke doesn’t know that John baptized Jesus; rather it’s because he wants to de-emphasize John. The question I always used to ask my students when they were confused about this was, “Who has more power, the person doing the baptizing, or the one who is baptized?” Of course, in the case of a toddler, the answer to that question may not be obvious.

So we don’t really see John baptizing Jesus in Luke’s gospel. Instead the focus is on something else—the expectations of the crowd, and the question concerning John. We will see this again in the coming weeks, the question of who John was, and whether he was the Messiah, the one people were waiting and hoping for.

It is a question that was asked in the first two chapters of Luke, and it is a question we will hear again as we read through Luke’s gospel this year. But it’s always a matter of just what one expects, and whether one’s expectations are realistic or warranted. In this case, the answer is not quite obvious.

The problem was not just the question of the relationship between Jesus and John the Baptizer, the problem was also about the meaning of the baptism itself. The gospels agree that John’s baptism was a baptism for the forgiveness of sins, and everyone knows that Jesus was without sin, therefore, why did he need to be baptized? That’s the question the gospel writers struggled with, and part of the reason Luke writes the way he does is to downplay the significance of Jesus’ baptism, for his own self-understanding and for his ministry. The lesson from Acts underscores Luke’s interpretation that John’s baptism was ultimately inadequate.

The crowd was filled with expectation and wondering. Baptism is an important celebration in the life of the church. It is an opportunity for us to welcome new members and to remind ourselves of our baptisms and what we committed ourselves to at that point. In fact, it’s helpful for us to watch an adult being baptized. Too often, the questions that are asked during the service, and the vows we make are treated lightly, as if they really don’t mean what they say.

The baptismal covenant lays out our responsibilities as members of the body of Christ. They are what is expected of everyone who takes that step: to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers; to persevere in resisting evil; to proclaim by word and example the good news; to seek and serve Christ in all persons, and to strive for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human person.

Those are enormous responsibilities and tasks, and how each of us fulfills them is between us and God. But membership is not about occasionally attending services. Membership is about committing oneself to the body of Christ, using one’s gifts, talents, and resources to build up the community and to reach out to others. We’ve included in the service bulletin one way for you to do that. While many of you already participate in our worship service by serving as acolytes, readers, and the like, we are always in need of others. I encourage you to think about how you might help out with services, fill out the form, and put it in the offering plate. Of course, there are many other ways you can volunteer. The shelter meal which has been organized by Sarah and Sparky Watts for several years, can always use additional volunteers, for example, as can the food pantry.

The prayer book actually views adult baptism as the norm, not the exception as is our practice. That’s a good thing, because the vows that Jewel makes today are vows that we all make together. As we make them, let us make them, not only with our lips, but with our lives, promising to do all that we can, body and soul, to strengthen the body of Christ and serve God’s kingdom.

Wolf Hall update

Posted on by
Reply

Finished it and have been reflecting on it ever since. I’m still not sure about the title, but of course the Seymours would loom large over the next stage of Cromwell’s life. I also liked the constant presence of Mark Smeaton, foreshadowing events to come as well. The final scenes of the novel were quite powerful. In the end, I found the depictions of both More and Cromwell utterly believable.

As I thought about the novel, I also thought more about my perspective on the 1530s, that first phase of the English Reformation. I suppose it’s safe to say my scholarly judgement was largely shaped by my own Protestant upbringing. In addition, my undergraduate senior thesis focused on the early English reformers’ attacks on the wealth of the church. In researching that project I read almost everything written in the 1520s and 1530s against the Catholic establishment and I gained a deep appreciation for the theological and ethical commitments of the early reformers like Tyndale, Frith, and Latimer. They had a vision of a church and state that were very different from the institutions that existed, and the ones that emerged in the course of the English Reformation.

Cromwell used those reformers to support his efforts to dissolve the monasteries. Of that there is no doubt. That the reformers’ ideals were not realized is also true. But somehow over the last 150 years or so, the Protestant side has tended to get the blame for what happened.

But between More and Cromwell, I suppose I would still choose Cromwell. For all of Cromwell’s faults, I find More’s choices, and his theological positions, deeply troubling.

It’s interesting finishing that book over the holidays when the attempted bombing of a Northwest flight is in the news and there is again talk about the use of torture in the media. Andrew Sullivan’s blog, as always, keeps a close watch on all of the outrageous statements by politicans and pundits. More’s problem, from my perspective, was his absolute sense of certainty. That’s always a danger, because if you know you are right, than any means you use will be justified.

The Anglican Covenant

Posted on by
Reply

I suppose I ought to make some comment on recent doings in Anglican-land. Truth be told, I’ve come to find it rather tiresome. In December, the latest draft version of the Anglican Covenant appeared. Some of the background and the full text is available here. There has been considerable commentary on it. As always, one can keep abreast of the latest developments at Thinking Anglicans.

Among the saber-rattling is a statement from someone that any province that doesn’t sign on to the covenant by the end of 2011 will be excluded. Unfortunately, the Episcopal Church cannot sign on before General Convention 2012, and if canonical changes are necessary, until 2015. In other words, the lengthy process continues.

As the years have passed and the conflict within Anglicanism continues to boil, I am more and more inclined to say the Communion is simply not worth the hassle. One of my greatest concerns has always been the increasing centralization of power and the disenfranchisement of lay people in communion structures.

There have been enormous theological disagreements in Anglicanism for generations–deep fissures between Anglo-Catholics and Evangelicals, for example–and now there are deep divisions on matters of sexuality. It really is hard to see what a church that elects Rev. Glasspool bishop has in common with a church that seems to be pushing for a law that would punish gays and lesbians with execution.

Unity for unity’s sake is meaningless and overcoming diversity by centralization of power will never succeed. It seems to me that the communication and media revolution of the last decades has brought us closer together but has also heightened awareness of our differences. What it has not done is led to increased understanding.

It may be that the idea of “national churches” which is at the heart of the traditional notion of Anglicanism no longer has any meaning. Certainly, to call the Church of England a national church is misleading. It is the church of a small portion of people in England, and in fact the various parties within it have stronger ties within themselves than to the national church.

In the US, with its long history of denominational diversity, it is relatively easy for like-minded people to break off and form their own church. That has happened repeatedly, and among Anglicans in the US, it continues to happen. But whether groups from different perspectives (Anglo-Catholic, Evangelical) can remain united in spite of their theological and liturgical differences remains to be seen.

One of the most perceptive comments on the Anglican Covenant was written by Scott Gunn.

Religious whiplash

Posted on by
Reply

I stopped by one of the blogs on my blogroll today, the Anglican Centrist. It was my first visit in some time. I had come to appreciate its perspective on things Anglican–theologically insightful with thoughtful commentary on developments in the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. I read an entry that referenced someone’s attempt to visit an Episcopal Church on Christmas Eve. The blogger bemoaned that the priest’s response to this person was to discourage them from attending. This provided the jumping-off point for  screed against liberals, Obama (blaming the attacks at Ft. Hood on progressive politics) and much more. I couldn’t finish the article because of the vitriol.

The blogger at Anglican Centrist wanted to use this as an example of how not to evangelize. Now, I’m all for leaving party identity outside the church, where it belongs. But I wonder whether the priest who responded negatively sensed the anger in the person. I will welcome anyone who seeks God, and desires to love God and their neighbor–whoever that neighbor might be. You can follow the exchange here.

I’ve been a big fan of Sojourners bumper sticker: “God is not a Republican… Or a Democrat.”

After reading that, I went over to Madison.com, where there’s an article about a very different expression of religion:

The group, a branch of the Madison Church of Religious Science, is reinventing the idea of church, with “stand you up” live music, meditation, singing, chanting and “an inclusive message of self-empowerment.”

The article is here.

One of the things I’ve appreciated about my move to Madison is that I have escaped the overwhelming presence of the religious right. The author in the article cited by Anglican Centrist was highly critical of progressive Christianity’s embrace of Obama, with nary a mention of the close connection between the Republican party and the religious right and the vilification in many circles of Obama, to the extent of viewing him as the Antichrist, and advocating praying for his death.

But in a town where the guy who came to work on the boiler at Grace last week had to go next to the Freedom from Religion foundation to work, and new religious movements like the one described in the State Journal, negotiating a path as a religious leader can be tricky.

Epiphanies

Posted on by
Reply

I scheduled an evening Epiphany Eucharist today, just because I thought I should. If we were in a different location, we could do it up right with the burning of the greens and all; but I couldn’t imagine the logistics of a bonfire in the courtyard of a church on Capitol Square. Perhaps someone will come up with an alternative.

When Deacon Carol asked me how many people I expected I replied, maybe no one besides us. But in fact we had a total of 17, including some first-timers. I was thrilled. Sure, 17 is a small number, but we did almost no publicity, and no arm-twisting. It gives me hope that a weekday evening service might prove to be attractive. We will be trying a number of things in the coming months on Wednesday evenings, and I hope that by next year we will have a regular weeknight program.

What surprised me most was the percentage of young people in attendance; certainly more than half of those present tonight were under 40.

I’ve been ruminating on outreach to young adults. We attract our fair share of them without really providing any program targeted at them. I occasionally hear grumbling that young adults aren’t a demographic on which we should spend time and energy. Certainly, if one is interested in attracting people who will be long-time members and have a lot of financial assets they can donate, young adults aren’t worth the effort. But on the other hand, we provide community, fellowship, and a place for them to explore their faith during a difficult period of their lives. And truth be told, many sociological surveys have revealed that involvement in church is temporary even among older demographic cohorts–often five years at the outside.

We have an opportunity to reach to a huge population within just a few blocks of Grace. It seems to me that we ought to think about programs that might speak to people in their twenties and thirties, many of whom are searching for stability and meaning in their lives.

The Light of Epiphany

Posted on by
Reply

On January 6, the liturgical calendar marks the Feast of the Epiphany. We may know it best as the official end of the season of Christmas, which has twelve days, ending on January 5. The word itself comes from a Greek word that means “to manifest” or “to show,” and it was frequently used in pagan contexts to refer to an appearance of the divine. In the early Church, Epiphany was probably the more ancient celebration than Christmas. It is a festival of the Incarnation and brought together much of Jesus’ life, from his birth to the beginning of his public ministry. Among the events that were commemorated at Epiphany were his baptism and the Wedding at Cana.

With the rise of the commemoration of Christmas in the late fourth century, Epiphany came to focus on these other episodes in Jesus’ life. That focus continues to this day. All of the gospel readings used during Epiphany emphasize the divinity of Jesus Christ and the different ways in which his divinity was revealed to his followers and to the world. In the Episcopal Church, the season of Epiphany traditionally ends on the last Sunday before Lent with the reading of the gospel story of the Transfiguration.

Like Advent, Christmas, and Easter, Epiphany uses the image of light as a dominant symbol. From the star that in Matthew guides to the magi to the place of Jesus’ birth, to the celestial radiance that descends upon Jesus during the Transfiguration, light shines brightly in Epiphany. There is none of that darkness in which the Advent candles burn. The light of Epiphany shines on everything, transforming the world into the brightness of joy. Bach captures this idea in his lovely chorale, “Break forth, O beauteous heavenly light, and usher in the morning.”

I always experience Epiphany through the bright light of January. Among my favorite winter memories is walking through a woods on a moonlit night after a fresh snow. The light of the moon reflects off the snow and gives an eerie, heavenly light to the dark night. Sometimes it seems as if it were daylight. Then there is the brightness of a sunny day after the snow has fallen. The world always seems brighter to me in January. That, I suppose, is the message of Epiphany.