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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.

William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1944

Today we remember William Temple who died on this date in 1944. He had been Archbishop of Canterbury only since 1942 and it is said that his death was caused by exhaustion due to the strains of his job. The son of Frederick Temple, who was also Archbishop of Canterbury, Temple was a gifted leader and a brilliant theologian. His Christus Veritas is a compelling argument for understanding the Incarnation of Jesus Christ in light of God’s love that created the universe.

He writes:

Creation and Redemption are, indeed, different; but they are different aspects of one spiritual fact, which is the activity of the Divine Will, manifesting itself in love through the Creation, and winning from the Creation an answering love.

This conception undergirds his understanding of the church, the sacraments, the doctrine of the Incarnation, and the Atonement.

For example:

Thus we have the following background of the sacramental worship of the Church: the universe is the fundamental sacrament, and taken in its entirety (When of course it includes the Incarnation and Atonement) is the perfect sacrament extensively; but it only becomes this, so far as our world and human history are concerned, because within it and determining its course is the Incarnation, which is the perfect sacrament intensively—the perfect expression in a moment of what is also perfectly expressed in everlasting Time, the Will of God;…

With regard to the Atonement, he says,  “No doctrine can be Christian which starts from a conception of God as moved by any motive alien from holy love.”

His vision is as inspiring today as it was in the darkest days of World War II, and his theology offers much to ponder today as well.

Reading the notes I took some years ago while reading Christus Veritas, I was struck again by the compelling language and challenging ideas that seemed to jump off the page.

Covenant and Coercion

The Episcopal Lead points to an essay by Savi Hensman that explores the disciplinary regime laid out in Part 4 of  The Anglican Covenant. Beginning with the baptismal vow to resist evil, she asks whether individuals or a church resisting evil (e.g., the oppressive treatment of GLBT persons) must submit if other churches object:

This might imply that member churches seeking to be faithful to their Christian calling, and to experience and reflect the love of the Holy Trinity, should never do anything to which certain other churches strongly object, if those objecting can convince the Standing Committee that the action would be wrong or harmful to unity.

But is achievement of a ‘common mind’ – or appearance of this – and greatest possible degree of communion always the highest good? In a world where evil can often seem plausible, even moral, there are many occasions when this is not so.

She goes on to cite the example of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who resisted Hitler and was martyred for it. More importantly for her purposes, Bonhoeffer was among the leaders of those German Protestants who refused to participate in the German Christian movement. She quotes the Archbishop of Canterbury writing about Bonhoeffer:

[I]f we ask about the nature of the true Church, where we shall see the authentic life of Christ’s Body – or if we ask about the unity of the Church, how we come together to recognise each other as disciples – Bonhoeffer’s answer would have to be in the form of a further question. Does this or that person, this or that Christian community, stand where Christ is? Are they struggling to be in the place where God has chosen to be? And he would further tell us that to be in this place is to be in a place where there are no defensive walls; it must be a place where all who have faith in Jesus can stand together, and stand with all those in whose presence and in whose company Christ suffers, making room together for God’s mercy to be seen.

That is how Bonhoeffer had already come to the paradox of saying – as he did in 1936 – that unity between Christians could not be the only thing that mattered – if all it meant was good will towards everyone who claimed the name of a believer or everyone who satisfied some limited definition of human decency and fluency in religious talk.

One of the things that I was trying to get at in my previous post on Hooker is the issue of coercion. Coercion operates on many levels. Historically, as in the case of Elizabeth I and the other Tudor monarchs, coercion takes the form of state action to enforce conformity. In contemporary institutional Christianity, state action is not an option. However, there are other means at hand in some churches. The Vatican can suppress dissent by silencing theologians, but in other denominations, excommunication has become a rarity.

Part of the struggle in Anglicanism is a struggle over definition–What is it? Who are the members of the Anglican Communion? Since its beginning in the 19th century, the Anglican Communion has lacked clear boundaries, a clear definition of what it is and what it isn’t. The Covenant is part of a process aimed at defining boundaries, and certainly distinguishing members of the Anglican Communion from those churches that do not belong to it. Defining boundaries and membership involves enforcing conformity, at least on some level. And enforcing conformity requires coercion.

Hensman’s question comes down to “At what cost conformity?” At the cost of resisting evil? Or breaking our baptismal vows to “respect the dignity of every human person?” And here’s where Hooker comes in. Elizabeth and Hooker both were saying to nonconformists that they had to submit to doctrine and practice which they regarded is evil. Conformity was more important than faithfulness to the truth of the Gospel. The disciplinary  measures of the Anglican Covenant make the same argument against those who accept the ordination of Gays and Lesbians (and women, and perhaps the presidency of laypeople at the Eucharist in the Diocese of Sidney).

 

Hooker, Covenant and No-Covenant: Or, the uses and abuses of history

For Anglicans and Episcopalians, the big news this morning wasn’t the election results in the USA but the announcement of a new coalition directed against the Anglican Covenant. Called noanglicancovenant, it has a website, a facebook page, press–at least among bloggers–and its own logo:

 

Thinking Anglicans announced:

International Campaign Seeks to Stop Anglican Covenant

It wasn’t a coincidence that the announcement came on November 3, the date of the commemoration of Richard Hooker in Anglican calendars:

Susan Russell wrote to members of the Anglican Resistance Movement’s facebook page,

It is no coincidence that today — November 3rd AKA the Feast of Richard Hooker — was chosen to launch an international campagin to oppose the proposed Anglican Covenant.

The new website — No Anglican Covenant: Anglicans for Comprehensive Unity — offers an impressive wealth of resources, background information and context to inform, empower and engage in the process of pushing back on this ill conceived proposal. And I am honored to listed among a truly amazing cloud of witnesses calling our communion to reclaim its foundational value of Anglican comprehensiveness.

Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the current proposal is coercion in covenant clothing. Scripture and tradition tell us to value the ideal of Covenant. Reason tells us to reject this proposal lest we throw out the baby of historic Anglican comprehensiveness with the bathwater of hysteric Anglican politics.
Tobias Haller chimed in: Richard Hooker’s Smiling
Don’t misunderstand me. My sympathies lie with the No-Anglican-Covenant group. I think it’s a bad idea on several levels. My problem is with the attempt to bring in Hooker to support it.
The church and the world in the twenty-first century are very different than they were in the 1590s when Hooker wrote The Laws of Ecclesiastical Piety. To appeal to him for support is misguided. Today scholars debate the extent to which Hooker was Reformed in theology and whether he can be seen as the architect of the via media or of what later came to be called Anglicanism.
What is certain is the immediate context in which he wrote The Laws. In 1593, Parliament was debating a series of laws that would increase penalties against Roman Catholics and introduce new restrictions on radical Calvinists. Hooker wrote The Laws in an attempt to convincing wavering members of the House of Commons that the restrictions against the Radical Protestants (later called Puritans) were necessary and legitimate. In other words, Hooker was writing in support of the Crown’s use of coercion to enforce uniformity.
That shouldn’t surprise anyone. The Church of England was the Established Church (it still is, of course) and Elizabeth demanded outward conformity to the Church from her subjects, while famously admitting that she couldn’t “see into men’s souls.”
We can debate Hooker’s contributions to Anglicanism; we can’t debate the fact that he wrote in support of forced outward conformity.

Richard Hooker, 1600

Today we remember Richard Hooker, who died on November 3, 1600. Hookrt is one of the great icons of Anglicanism, although that term was unknown to him, and certain Anglicanism whatever it means today, would be unrecognizable to him.

What established his reputation for later generations is The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. Bloggers occasionally like to run contests about books that everyone claims to have read but few people actually have; if there were such a context in the Anglican world, I’m sure The Laws would fare very well. It’s dense reading, in a prose style that is quite alien to modern sensitivities and I can’t imagine there are many people today with the stamina to make it all the way through all five books. Hooker was a man of immense learning and it shows throughout. He draws on patristic sources and on the scholastics, especially, Thomas Aquinas, in making his arguments.

Hooker is credited with originating the “three-legged stool” of Anglicanism, referring to the authority of scripture, tradition, and reason (actually he thinks of the latter more in terms of common sense). The image is not his own, and in his work, the three are not quite equal. Scripture is paramount. Hooker was a Protestant, after all. Reason is used to help elucidate scripture, especially when scripture seems unclear or contradictory. Tradition, too, is largely viewed as an interpreter of scripture.

Hooker’s pre-eminence in later Anglican tradition is largely due to historical developments. As conflict over theology and ecclesiology deepened in the seventeenth century, Hooker’s half-hearted defense of the episcopacy and his moderate Calvinism became weapons in the war against outright Puritanism. Having defended the Elizabethan Settlement, Hooker came to stand for the via media, even as the poles between which the via media balanced shifted dramatically.

 

The Feast of All Saints, 2010

I received an inquiry today from someone who wanted to know if we had a service today. We don’t, and until she asked, I hadn’t even considered the possibility. We celebrate All Saints on the Sunday following November 1. So far as I can remember, that’s been the custom at every parish I’ve been at. That’s going to change.

All Saints is one of my favorite celebrations of the church year. I probably say that about all of them, but All Saints is unique because of what it is about. As I was writing a brief description of the service for our parish newsletter, I came across this explanation: “In the Prayer Book tradition All Saints’ Day is essentially a celebration of Christ in his whole Mystical Body—the ‘elect’ and the ‘saints’ in the New Testament sense of these terms.” (Quoted in Hatchett’s Commentary on the Book of Common Prayer).

It’s a celebration of the church; to use traditional language with which I am uncomfortable, the Church Militant and the Church Triumphant. It’s an important reminder that the community to which belong encompasses both the living and the dead; that we are united in our faith in the Risen Christ, all members of his body.

I want to sing Sine Nomine today–Ralph Vaughan Williams’ majestic “For All the Saints.” I want to hear the lessons that are appointed for the day. I want to join with my brothers and sisters on earth and in heaven in one hymn of praise.

Maybe next year…

A Sermon for Reformation Sunday

Reformation Sunday
Luther Memorial Church
October 31, 2010


When Franklin invited me to preach on Reformation Sunday, I accepted immediately and without hesitation. I’ve never had the opportunity to preach on this occasion, even though I have a doctorate in Reformation history. For all sorts of reasons, but primarily because most Anglicans don’t consider themselves Protestant, Reformation Day does not loom large in the Episcopal or Anglican calendar. It even feels as though I’m doing something just a little bit subversive or naughty, being with you today and hearing Lutherans sing A Mighty Fortress. It’s been many years since I’ve had that experience. Continue reading →

Halloween and the church

I learned last week that many clergy take the time in a service to bless trick-or-treaters. Some place restrictions–no scary costumes, for example. I’ll confess it never crossed my mind. At St. James, staff enjoy the annual parade of the day school kids in costume, but that’s as close as we got in Greenville.

At Grace this year, we participated in the annual downtown business trick-or-treating. Pictures are here. Clearly fun was had by all.

It’s quite a contrast to those Christians who view Halloween as demonic or use it as an opportunity to try to save souls. If you’re interested in the apparently lively debate over Halloween among some conservative Christians, check out CBN’s Halloween Resource Page. I’ve long been fascinated by one popular attempt to piggy-back on Halloween’s popularity: the Hell House or Judgment House.

Neither the uneasiness of some Christians nor their attempt to capitalize or mimic popular culture surprise me. Rather, I’m curious about the whole cultural phenomenon of Halloween, especially the tacky and tawdry decorations that seem ubiquitous these days. On the other hand, I went to the Home Depot yesterday, and the Christmas displays were already up. Talk about tacky and tawdry!

The New Metaphysicals

I recently complete reading Courtney Bender’s The New Metaphysicals: Spirituality and the American Religious Imagination (University of Chicago Press, 2010)

Bender’s new work is widely acclaimed. Telling the stories of a spiritual practitioners who call Cambridge, MA their home, Bender uses their lives to rethink how scholars understand contemporary spirituality and the study of Religion. She begins by trying to locate some historical connection that binds the array of new age religious practices found in Cambridge to the city’s history as the locus of 19th century metaphysical speculation. And connection she does find, at least insofar as William James The Varieties of Religious Experience continues to shape, often implicitly, the way new age practitioners approach their own experience and attempt to enter into dialogue with social scientific analysis. The stories she tells are gripping, often of “lost souls” who through some experience have found a connection to something that seems much deeper than themselves, much deeper than the reality they experience in day-to-day life. We see them trying to make sense of their experience, and make connection to others whose journeys seem to converge with theirs.

For scholars of religious studies, Bender offers some provocative suggestions about how to understand and interpret contemporary spirituality, and by extension, religion in general. For example, she begins by noting

“that spirituality, whatever it is and however it is defined, is entangled in social life, in history, and in our academic and nonacademic imaginations.” She continues by observing that most recent definitions of spirituality attempt to define it as “a distinct category of action or activity (or mental state); and that they attempt to “extract something essential from it.” (p.5)

In her conclusion, she argues that she has demonstrated in her study that neat and tidy distinctions between the spiritual (or religious) and the secular are inadequate to explain the reality of religious life in America and the production of spirituality. Perhaps most interesting is that she sees the development of American spirituality and the scholarly analysis of religion and spirituality in the early 20th century as impacting one another.

While there is considerable material here for scholarly reflection, Bender also raises questions for those involved in congregations and religious institutions. Her argument that what is important is not so much the direct experience itself but how it is interpreted, explained, and how individuals incorporate that in their lives and in their social environments. One gets the sense that the “new metaphysicals” with whom Bender speaks are actively attempting to make sense of their experience and draw on a wide variety of resources in doing so.

She distinguishes between experience in “congregations” and spiritual networks. While such distinctions may be useful for her analysis, one wonders about the relevance of that contrast. It is likely that there are people who have had similar experiences but remain embedded in congregations, even as they try to integrate those experiences into their lives. It is also likely that some congregations may push people with such experiences to the margins. I’m also reminded of those studies that say among the most important roles that clergy can take on is that of spiritual guide.

All in all, there is much food for thought here.

Goings-on in Anglican-land

The last few days have seen several developments related to matters Anglican and Episcopal. On this side of the pond, the Diocese of South Carolina has acted to remain in the Episcopal Church, but not of it (or vice versa, precisely what they are trying to do remains unclear). On the other side of the pond, the General Secretary of the Anglican Communion, Kenneth Kearon, has disinvited representatives from the Southern Cone from attending certain meetings because of that church’s boundary-crossing and intervention in North America (no word on Rwanda or Nigeria). And an Anglo-Catholic Bishop has announced his intent to join the Ordinariate being set up by the Roman Catholic Church for disaffected clergy in the Church of England (in other words, he’s swimming the Tiber). In addition, the Diocese of Sidney is going ahead with its long-announced plans to introduce Eucharistic celebration by deacons.

There is plenty of comment on all of these developments and usual, you can follow the hullabaloo at Episcopal Cafe and Thinking Anglicans. For the latter’s coverage of the Ordinariate, click here. For its article on the letter from Kearon, go here.

With the regard to the actions of the Diocese of South Carolina, Bishop Mark Lawrence’s vitriolic letter against the Presiding Bishop is available on-line. So too is a response from Bishop James Mathes of the Diocese of San Diego. A number of commentators, including Bishop Mathes, draw a parallel between this development and the events leading up to the Civil War. I have no idea what precisely is taking place. I know little about that diocese except through encounters with students I had while teaching at Furman. I know they were warned by their clergy about those liberal Episcopalians in the upstate–a warning that amused me to no end.

It is clear to me that realignment of some sort, or perhaps several sorts is underway in the US church, but across the world as well. One thing that has struck me while reading those who fulminate against the Diocese of South Carolina’s actions, is their commitment to the diocese as the basic unit of the church. Granted it has been that for over a thousand years, but it is not necessarily a biblical notion, nor one practiced in the earliest church. In fact, the diocese as such is borrowed from the imperial restructuring that the Emperor Diocletian undertook in the late third and early fourth centuries.

Readers of this blog know I am interested in how Christianity is being affected by contemporary cultural changes, and how those changes will lead to restructuring.  It seems to me that all of these developments are contributing to that restructuring in the Anglican world, and that what will emerge down the line is something very different than the Anglican Communion we have had for the last few decades

Reflections on visioning in the secular world

The City of Madison recently released a draft of its Downtown Plan, which is supposed to set the framework for the next twenty-five years of development. An overview of the current state of the planning process is available here.

The vision for the process is:

Downtown Madison will be a flourishing and visually exciting center for the arts, commerce, government and education. It will be a magnet for a diverse population working, living, visiting and enjoying an urban environment characterized by a sensitive blending of carefully preserved older structures, high-quality new construction, architectural gems and engaging public spaces– all working together and integrated with surrounding neighborhoods, parks and the transportation system to create a unique environment for the community, County and region. (Downtown Advisory Report, July 2004)

What strikes me in the documents that have been produced so far is in fact, the lack of vision and the lack of attention to larger cultural, economic, and environmental trends that may profoundly shape the next twenty-five years. For example, higher education is undergoing a transformation unlike anything seen before. The crisis of affordability and the rise of technology will undoubtedly affect the University of Wisconsin as it is affecting smaller schools across the country. But the current state of the downtown plan takes none of that into consideration. It seems to presuppose a stable environment in which Madison will grow and develop incrementally.

Having reflected on meetings in which the plan was discussed, and being involved presently in a great deal of thinking about the future of Grace Church, I’m struck by the different tones in the two processes. It may be simply because I’ve not heard the kind of dire warnings in the secular sphere that we know about in the church as a whole, and in particularly at Grace Church.

But to envision a future in twenty-five years means thinking outside the box in all kinds of ways. I’m reminded of the futuristic imagining of the future during the 60s–The Jetsons, for example. We’ve come to realize that much of that was silly, but at the same time, the technological advances and cultural changes that have occurred were unimaginable. To vision the future five years down the road is one thing. It’s going to look a good deal like it looks today. But twenty or twenty-five years in the future? Who can imagine? And how can you plan for it?