Author Archives: djgrieser

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About djgrieser

I have been Rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Madison, WI since 2009. I'm passionate about Jesus Christ and about connecting our faith and tradition with 21st century culture. I'm also very active in advocating for our homeless neighbors.

Covenantal Developments

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Canon Alison Burnett-Cowan, Directory of Unity, Faith, and Order of the Anglican Communion Office defends the Covenant, arguing that we should read it before criticizing it.

Responses: from the Mad Priest:

From the Episcopal Cafe: “It seems to this writer that people have read it very carefully and are not so willing to gloss over the words as easily as the ACO.”

And from Tobias Haller:

What sense, after all, does it make to turn an ad hoc impairment in communion into something that looks very much like an institutional severance in communion? Since participation in the Instruments is at least in part definitive for membership and participation in the Anglican Commuion, and as the Covenant declares as well, the means by which the members “are enabled to be conformed together to the mind of Christ” (3.1.2), anything remotely resembling permanent suspension by or from those Instruments as a “relational consequence” seems to indicate a serious and debilitating breach in the Anglican Communion and the body of Christ. And the Covenant provides a mechanism to promote it, and little in the way of helping to prevent it. It is the schema for an autoimmune disease in the Body of Christ.

This is a Bad Idea. Please, England, put it down.

And from the No Anglican Covenant blog: A point by point response to some of the more tendentious assertions

 

Covenantal Commentary

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More blogging and op-ed pieces about the Covenant, especially from England. General Synod will be convening soon and this will be high on the agenda.

Paul Bagshaw: “What is the Covenant for?”

Bishop Alan Wilson: “Will the Covenant kill or cure?”

Some statistics on the covenant and other Anglican matters from the Simply Massing Priest

From the Modern Church:

This reveals their main dilemma: how to produce a text which on the one hand is forceful enough impose its demands on the provinces, but on the other will persuade them to sign it. Their solution is to present the Covenant as an entirely voluntary agreement which does not affect a province’s governance or autonomy. Provinces signing it would, as before, act as they wished – so long as no other province objected. Once the Standing Committee upheld an objection, it would impose ‘relational consequences’, which would generally mean treating them like non-signatories.

And more (written for the Church of England)

How would it affect my church?

Is the Anglican Communion imploding of itself?

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Events are occurring with great rapidity.

  • The Diocese of Uruguay has petitioned to leave the Province of the Southern Cone. This is in response to a failed proposal to allow the ordination of women in that province on a diocese-to-diocese basis. Mark Harris points out how very different that diocese is proceeding in leaving its province than those dioceses of the Episcopal Church have tried to depart. If their petition is refused, they will appeal to the Anglican Consultative Council. Whatever happens, it’s a reminder that “realignment” works both ways. Fr. Jake points out the irony of a diocese petitioning the Province of the Southern Cone to leave, after the Southern Cone has attempted to poach dioceses from the Episcopal Church
  • Those “flying bishops” who are flying to Rome continue to generate comment. The great historian of English Christianity Diarmaid MacCulloch has written incisively about the absurdity of the original scheme to provide episcopal oversight to those who rejected women’s ordination in the Church of England. Here’s MacCulloch on the perspective this group represents:

They represent one faction, which those of us who enjoy grubbing in historical byways term ‘Papalist Catholics’. For about 150 years this group among High Church Anglicans have performed athletic intellectual gymnastics about what the Church of England actually is. They ignored the fact that it had a Reformation in the sixteenth century, and turned their churches into meticulous replicas of whatever ecclesiastical fashions the Roman Church decided to adopt, while equally ignoring the fact that successive popes considered their clerical status ‘absolutely null and utterly void’. Now they are thrilled to find that the Pope was wrong all along, so they can after all be received on special terms into the ample bosom of the Western Church of the Latin Rite (which is in the habit of arrogating to itself the more general title of the Catholic Church).

  • Another report mentions “50 clergy who are joining the Ordinariate.”
  • And the Anglican Covenant debate is heating up in the run-up to Church of England’s General Synod. Thinking Anglicans has links to the latest entries in the debate. On this side of the pond, the Episcopal Cafe links to presentations past and more recent, by Cheryl H. White, canon theologian for the Diocese of Western Louisiana. From what I can tell, it seems to be arguing that the Covenant is rooted in the Elizabethan Settlement, an attempt to use the Elizabethan Church in support of the Covenant, just as the no-covenant folk use Hooker to oppose it. As I argued with regard to that, let’s debate the covenant on its merits, not on its imputed historical or theological precedents.

Revisiting the Civil War

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It’s the 150th anniversary of the election of Abraham Lincoln to the presidency in 1860 and we’re coming up on the similar anniversary of the beginning of the Civil War. The New York Times got the idea of “live-blogging” history and it makes for fascinating reading: DISUNION – Opinionator Blog – NYTimes.com.

I’m not much of a Civil War buff, although I watched the Ken Burns documentary, and one summer read Shelby Foote’s history when I should have been working on my dissertation. Having lived in the South for fifteen years, the first five in Sewanee, the home of The University of the South, one of the “Lost Cause” colleges. The history of Sewanee is recorded in stained glass in All Saints’ Chapel, including when the Yankees blew up the college cornerstone. Charles Wilson Reagan’s Baptized in Blood: The Religion of the Lost Cause tells the story of how Christianity in the South was shaped by the Civil War. That was certainly the case at Sewanee, with the prominently-displayed portrait of “The Battling Bishop” Leonidas Polk in a Confederate gray uniform, with sword in one hand and prayer book in the  other.

I was bemused to learn that my former colleague’s lectures on the Civil War at the Greenville County Public Library in South Carolina have been picketed. Among the signs being held: “Lincoln was a mass murderer.”

It’s hard for Northerners to understand the complexity of the relationship Southerners have with slavery and with the Civil War. The comments in the Times blog offers evidence of that. Even liberal Democrats who live in the South may express their discomfort at certain historical arguments, or what one called “South bashing.” The response is more complex when it comes from the thoughtful, and progressive descendant of a slave owner. The war lives on in the South in ways it doesn’t up north and the commemorations in the coming years will no doubt raise emotional arguments over a history that still affects contemporary life.

Proper 28, Year C

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November 14, 2010

Today, after the 10:00 service, we will hold our annual meeting. It is an opportunity to look back on the past year, make some assessment of what we have accomplished over these twelve months. It is also a time to look ahead to the New Year. We’re somewhat out of synch with our larger culture and will continue to be so for the next month or so. For it’s not just that we are planning ahead for next year with respect to our finances and planning, but our worship is also coming to the end of one year and looking forward to a new one. The liturgical year does not begin on January 1 but rather on the first Sunday of Advent, which is two weeks from today.

Our lessons, coming at the end of a year of reading the Gospel of Luke, have us looking ahead in some profound ways. The gospel and the reading from Isaiah are both are eschatological, in that both have something to say about the age to come. They are sharply different in tone, however. Isaiah’s vision is a hopeful one; while the gospel promises Jesus’ listeners that they will suffer for his sake.

Today’s gospel comes from the section of Luke where Jesus is teaching in and around the temple. It is just a few days before his arrest and execution. It also comes immediately after the story of the widow’s mite—when Jesus observes a poor woman giving an offering in the temple and praises her generosity, giving all that she had, while other rich people gave out of their abundance.

Luke is writing his gospel at least a decade, perhaps longer after the destruction of the Jerusalem temple. It was a cataclysmic event—catastrophic for the Jewish people who had to radically reconceive what it meant to be Jewish, and how to practice their faith, in the absence of the temple, the place where God dwelt and sacrifices were performed. It was cataclysmic as well for the early Christian community, most of whom came out of Judaism and still considered themselves to be profoundly Jewish, in spite of their belief that Jewish was the Messiah, the Savior of the World.

One can sense the anguish of both communities in the words Jesus says: “Not one stone will remain upon another, all will be thrown down.” He prophesies wars and insurrections, but cautions his listeners not to imagine that they are signs of his coming. He warns them that they will be persecuted for his sake. These are powerful words that are meant to evoke powerful emotions. Language like this permeates the New Testament and has contributed significantly to those strands of Christianity that look for signs of the second coming.

Of such signs there is no dearth. We live in an age of war and insurrection. Natural disasters like the earthquake in Haiti, Tsunami, and volcanic eruptions in Indonesia, hurricanes, drought and the like, seem ever more prevalent. We worry about global warming, famine and more. In our context, words like Jesus says in our gospel today contribute to a pervasive mood among many, Christians and non-Christians, that the world as we know it is coming to an end; that global catastrophe may be just around the corner.

Such language may increase our fearfulness and dread about what lies in the future. But Jesus’ words were not intended that way. Luke is using them quite differently, to reassure his readers that in spite of and in the midst of the troubles they were facing, God was acting in history. It is the same message we sang in the canticle, Isaiah’s song, “Surely it is God who saves me, trust in him and be not afraid.” Often such words seem meaningless in light of the enormous problems we face. And those problems may be intensely personal—a medical condition, grief at the loss of a loved one, unemployment. But the problems are also immense—war, climate change, a nation that doesn’t seem on the right track. It may be difficult, impossible to detect God’s working in the world.

This week, someone came to see me in desperation. Her life had fallen apart and she had lost everything. She wasn’t sure she could go on, that there was any reason for going on. It’s a story I occasionally hear; the surprising thing perhaps is that I don’t hear it more often. Feeling God’s presence in her life was impossible; all she could feel was pain and loss—the loss of friends and family, the loss of a future, her life, any hope.

While her situation was extreme, most of us have experienced at least something of that desperation, pain and loss. When we are there, words of encouragement sound empty and meaningless, even God seems to have abandoned us. But that’s not the case. The gospel reader reminds us that God is in the midst of our pain and suffering, God is present in history, and in our lives.

The reading from Isaiah offers a powerful challenge to any hopelessness we might feel, for ourselves or for the world. Isaiah’s vision is completely new—Yahweh will create new heavens and a new earth; Jerusalem will be transformed into a city in which there will be no tears; no infant will die before her time, people will live long lives. Even the natural world will be transformed into a place of peace and serenity. It’s a vision of a creation restored to what God had intended for it; a created world, at peace and harmony. The only hint of something else are the words, and the serpent, he shall eat dust. It’s a reminder of the Garden of Eden, of the curse Yahweh placed there on the serpent. But now the serpent is subjugated, excluded permanently from this new Eden.

This vision may seem far from the world in which we live, but it is a vision we see in faith, a vision of the universe as God intends it, and as God is working it out even now. Our faith proclaims that God is present in this world and in our daily lives, no matter what evidence there is to the contrary. It is a vision that should not only sustain us in our hope, but show us how we need to participate in God’s unfolding love of the world. Amen.

Church Ale

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I came across a report that St. James Episcopal Church in Lancaster, PA, has its own beer: St. James Brown Ale. Apparently, among its members are owners of a microbrewery who came up with this creative fundraising idea. It’s not a new idea, by any means. Monasteries have long been in the business of brewing beer and the Belgian Trappists have their own very popular style.

It’s not just monks. In the Middle Ages, Church Ales were among the most popular fundraisers for English parish churches. They didn’t necessarily brew their own, but they certainly sold large quantities, especially around the Feast of Pentecost. Church Ales were popular festivals for centuries, and often criticized by religious and social reformers. Brewing was a bone of contention in another way. Among the rites and privileges of many parish priests, in England and on the continent, was the right to brew, and sell their own beer. This put them in competition with inns and angered many local merchants.

It worked both ways, however. Parish visitation records are full of complaints from clergy that parishioners, especially men, spent most of Sunday service times in the local alehouse rather than in church, coming to service only in time for mass.

I doubt we’ll be brewing beer to raise funds for Grace, but you’ve got to give the people of St. James, Lancaster credit for creativity, and for marketing.

Will the Primates meet?

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Quite the hubbub over this question. The primates of the Anglican Communion are scheduled to meet in Dublin in January 2011. A report by George Conger puts this meeting in question, and indeed raises issues about the Primates Meeting itself. It is important because it is one of the “four instruments of communion” so often discussed in the last 10-15 years. The meetings have at times been acrimonious, and recent ones have featured, if not outright boycotts, then pointed refusals on the part of some, to participate in joint Eucharists.

According to Conger, who tends to be a reliable source, the Archbishop of Canterbury has proposed smaller meetings of “like-minded” archbishops before the Dublin meeting itself. This report received confirmation from a number of sources. Conger goes on to say that Williams is proposing a restructuring of the meeting itself:

suggesting that an elected standing committee be created and the powers and responsibility of the meeting of the communion’s 38 archbishops, presiding bishops and moderators be delineated.

The problem here is two-fold. How can the primates be an “instrument of communion” if they cannot gather together? The second problem is an ongoing one as the ABC attempts to tinker with Anglican structures and create a more cohesive body. An elected standing committee would seem to further narrow and centralize powers within this group and decrease democratic representation. One can see similar attempts at work in the proposed restructuring of the Anglican Consultative Council–which would increase representation from the Primates, at the expense, as always of the laity.

The structures of the Anglican Communion, the “instruments of communion” are unwieldy. The alternative is to create a centralized bureaucracy that holds all power and makes the decisions. That sounds a great deal like the Vatican to me.

According to late reports, the Anglican Communion Office vehemently denies that the Primates Meeting has been canceled or postponed.

As always, you can follow the discussion on Thinking Anglicans and the Episcopal Cafe.

Resigning Bishops

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By some bizarre coincidence, the retirement and/or resigning of bishops has made a great splash in the news. On this side of the pond, Bishop Gene Robinson, whose election and consecration caused so much consternation throughout the Anglican Communion, announced his retirement. His address to the Diocese of New Hampshire is here. The New York Times article is here.

Meanwhile, a number of bishops of the Church of England have announced their resignation. Unable to come to terms with the ordination of women to the Episcopate, they are swimming the Tiber and becoming Roman Catholic. You can follow the discussion at Thinking Anglicans.

Someone more theologically or spiritually astute than me might be able to draw some conclusion from this interesting convergence, but any connection escapes me now.

Perhaps it is only this. Bishop Robinson writes about the toll that the last seven years have taken on him and his partner. No doubt those bishops who are resigning in the Church of England can also say something about the emotional, physical, and spiritual toll that has affected them since the decision to ordain women to the priesthood in the Church of England.

Being a bishop is no easy thing. Being a bishop when it seems the forces of church and culture are arrayed against you must be exceedingly difficult. These bishops may have very different theological perspectives, but no doubt all of them have suffered a great deal. And the Church is diminished by their leaving.

My prayers are with them all.

Who are these like stars appearing?

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We sang this hymn yesterday on All Saints’ Sunday. I suppose I’ve sung it many times before, but as with so many hymns, I didn’t pay particular attention to the text. Then, a parishioner drew my attention to verse 4:

These are they whose hearts were riven,
sore with woe and anguish tried,
who in prayer full oft have striven
with the God they glorified;
now, their painful conflict o’er,
God has bid them weep no more.

The first two verses of the hymn are a description of the saints arrayed before God’s throne, asking the question: who are they? Verse three begins to answer the question. So verse four is an answer to the question of who are the saints?

What’s wonderful about verse four is that it describes people who do not simply submit to God’s will:

“who in prayer full oft have striven with the God they glorified.”

In other words, their prayer has often been an intense struggle with God. It’s a powerful description of one aspect of a devout Christian life.

The text is a translation by Frances Elizabeth Cox of a hymn written by Theobald Heinrich Schenck (1656-1727). I tried to learn more about the author. He was German, educated at Giessen University (in Hesse) taught in the high school (Gymnasium) there and then became a pastor. It’s the only hymn he wrote that was published. His other publications are several funeral sermons (a popular genre of edifying literature in the early modern period). Giessen was a hotbed of Pietism in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, but whether Schenck belonged to that reform movement is not mentioned in the material I found.

I was also unable to find the original German text of the hymn. No doubt I’ve got it in a hymnal somewhere, but apparently the Germans aren’t as quick to put stuff like that on the internet. I’d be curious to see what it reads like in the original. There are a total of fifteen verses in the original.

For All the Saints: A Sermon for All Saints Sunday, 2010

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One of the questions I often get from newcomers to the Episcopal Church, especially if they are coming from more Protestant backgrounds, has to do with the meaning of the saints. There’s a view among some Protestants, and it goes back to the Protestant Reformation, that devotion to or commemoration of the saints, is not quite biblical. Often these questions turn to whether, if someone joins the Episcopal Church, they need to start praying to the saints. Other times, though, there’s a bit of an edge to such questions, not unlike the time a former student once blurted out during a discussion on the Virgin Mary’s significance in the Christian tradition, “What’s so special about Mary?” My response? “She’s the Mother of God.” Continue reading →