St. Paul’s Cathedral to close because of Occupy London

Here’s the report from CNN.

Thinking Anglicans’ coverage. The Guardian’s coverage. A video shows the size of the encampment.

Seeing the images in that video make the issues clear to me. There’s a great deal of comment in various places about churches needing to participate in the movement, welcome it, etc. I would agree with that position, and early on, the Cathedral was encouraging and welcoming. But churches, a place like St. Paul’s Cathedral has several missions and many constituencies. The presence of so many people camped just outside the building creates enormous issues, and not just health and safety issues. It’s an enormous stress on staff and clergy; it does make worship difficult; and it can prevent, or seriously limit other forms of pastoral ministry. I wonder whether it would be possible to devise a compromise that would permit a small group of protestors to remain, in order to lessen the overall impact. Neither outsiders nor protestors can judge the toll this sort of presence can take on those who live, work, and minister in the middle of it.

There’s been a lot of “theological” reflection on the movement. Tom Beaudoin asked whether it would be possible to occupy the Catholic Church. He also is documenting the use of sacred imagery here and here. There are clergy and seminarians involved as “Protest Chaplains.”

Brian McLaren reflects on the symbolism of the term “occupy”:

The term “occupy” is winning me over because it puts an ironic spin on one of our most questionable national habits—occupying other nations: occupying Iraq, occupying Afghanistan, supporting Israel in occupying Palestine. Like kingdom of God, it turns that familiar language on its head.

The term “occupy” is also winning me over because it’s about presence, making our presence known and felt in public spaces. These public spaces—from economic markets to political processes—have been colonized by powerful corporate elites (the 1 percent, or maybe the 10 percent), elites driven not by an ethical vision but by the relentless demand to maximize shareholder return. The 99 percent are realizing how destructive this colonization of public spaces has become, and by simply coming back—by re-inhabiting public spaces—we are demonstrating that we see what’s happening and we are not going to tacitly comply with its continuing.

Re-imagining church–The Church in the Round in Seattle

I’m intrigued by what is taking place in Seattle. An established parish has been asked to “re-start” another parish in another part of town. After interviews in the neighborhood, the group designing the new effort have identified a number of themes and priorities:

  • Alternative worship
  • The young adult community, including young families
  • Food, gardens, and green space
  • Homelessness services
  • A community center (coffee house, theater, multi-cultural meeting place)
  • Jobs

Apparently the questions they asked were:

1) What are your dreams for the Lake City neighborhood, 2) What are your fears for the neighborhood, and 3) What would be your ultimate dream for this space that includes 2 acres and a building that includes a sanctuary in the round, a parish hall in the round, and a few additional spaces?

I’m intrigued, because rather than trying to restart on the basis of what was already there or some preconceived notion of what the Episcopal Church ought to be in that place, they reached out to the community first. In a way, it’s not unlike what St. Luke’s Racine has done.

It’s also an example of how to rethink and adapt physical spaces to meet new needs and new forms of ministry. Among the Episcopal Church’s chief assets is its property, specifically church buildings. Buildings are often perceived to be albatrosses, especially in the case of nineteenth-century or twentieth-century buildings located in downtowns, blighted areas, in need of maintenance and the like. The current dynamic in American culture might be to try to “unload” them; in corporate parlance, to eliminate unprofitable locations and invest elsewhere. But as a city councilor said during the debate over the St. Francis House development, we will never again build churches like those that were built in the nineteenth and earlier twentieth century. The question is how we can leverage them into opportunities and assets for ministry and mission, rather than perceive them only as potential liabilities.

Reforming the structures–what about Diocesan conventions?

So I was sitting in the room today, paying attention to the day’s business and I started reflecting on what we were doing in the context of the larger issues facing the church both nationally and locally. Such issues and the need for change were acknowledged–in Bishop Miller’s sermon last night and address to the convention today, and in Assistant for Congregational Development Peggy Bean’s report as well. Still, that need for change and for thinking about change was not reflected in the business of the day. We elected people to Executive Committee and Standing Committee (as well as other offices), debated resolutions, and passed the budget. It was very much like conventions I had attended in the previous two years in the Diocese of Milwaukee, and before that, in the Diocese of Upper South Carolina.

Two things struck me more than anything else. First of all, the age of those in attendance at the Eucharist yesterday evening. We were old, probably 90% of us over 50. Second, our Eucharist was celebrated in a church that was perhaps a symbol of the church that existed in the 19th and 20th century–a huge edifice, the nave constructed in 1866, capable of seating 400 or 500 people, in a downtown filled with boarded up buildings or, surprisingly, a lively nightlife, if the streets I drove through late in the evening were any indication. In other words, it was a building constructed in a different era, culture, and for a different church. They’re doing something remarkable and new, however, having begun a hospitality center for the homeless this past spring that has seen remarkable growth in the numbers of those involved both in volunteering and those seeking help.

Our conventions–the very notion of them–are a product of a different era, different culture, and different church. They are constructed on a legislative model, necessary of course, but are they capable of being the places in which creative thinking about ministry and mission might occur? We elect officers, debate resolutions and budgets, all the while the hard questions of what it might mean to be the Episcopal Church in the twenty-first century are not being discussed.

What would it look like if instead of debating minimum compensation packages, health insurance, and concealed carry, we had discussions about the future ministry and mission of the Episcopal Church in Madison, Racine, Richland Center, and the Diocese of Milwaukee?

For info on what we did today, here’s the website for Diocesan Convention.

Previous posts on the need for structural change in the Episcopal Church here, here, and here.

“Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me”

Bishop Morlino of the Catholic Diocese of Madison, has instructed his clergy to limit the sharing of wine at communion with the laity. Here’s the article.

His decision comes after the Archbishop of Phoenix announced a similar change. Stories about that are here, with a riposte from Anthony Ruff here.

I’m hesitant to comment about development in other denominations because of “the mote in my own eye.” But as a pastor, and as a historian of the period in Christian history when the debate over reception of communion in both kinds burned hot, I find this sad. I won’t debate the legal merits of the decision or even the theological basis (of course Jesus Christ is fully present in both bread and wine). What bothers me is the implicit sacerdotalism and clericalism. To worry about spillage of wine or that some might receive it irreverently seems code language implying that only priests can approach the sacrament. The sharing of the chalice by lay people with lay people is an important symbol of the fact that we are all the Body of Christ and that we all are equally worthy (or unworthy) to approach the holy.

And then there are Jesus’ words:

In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (I Corinthians 11:25-26)

All baptized Christians are welcome to receive communion in both kinds at Eucharists at Grace and other Episcopal Churches and we encourage lay people to become chalice bearers.

Profile in Courage: The Archbishop of Canterbury’s visit to Zimbabwe

There’s a remarkable story unfolding in Africa. The Archbishop of Canterbury is visiting Zimbabwe, where the Anglican Church is caught up in the world-wide controversy over the ongoing rule of Robert Mugabe. A close friend of Mugabe, Nolbert Kunonga was Bishop of Harare. He was excommunicated and replaced by Chad Gandiya. This conflict has resulted in Zimbabwe Anglicans being locked out of their churches, beaten, and arrested.

On Sunday, Rowan Williams preached to a gathering of some 15,000 people. In his sermon, he said:

You know very well, dear brothers and sisters, what it means to have doors locked in your faces by those who claim the name of Christians and Anglicans. You know how those who by their greed and violence have refused the grace of God try to silence your worship and frustrate your witness in the churches and schools and hospitals of this country. But you also know what Jesus’ parable teaches us so powerfully – that the will of God to invite people to his feast is so strong that it can triumph even over these mindless and Godless assaults. Just as the Risen Jesus breaks through the locked doors of fear and suspicion, so he continues to call you and empower you in spite of all efforts to defeat you. And in the Revelation to John, the Lord proclaims that he has set before us an open door that no-one can shut. It is the door of his promise, the door of his mercy, the door into the feast of his Kingdom.

Directly critical of both colonialism and the continued rape of Africa’s natural resources for the material gain of a few, Williams spoke truth to power. He also sought a meeting with Mugabe where he could directly voice his concerns about the Anglican Church and about the overall situation in Zimbabwe.

The conflict over human sexuality within the Anglican Communion also played a role in this visit, with both Mugabe and Kunonga raising it in rather nasty terms. A spokesman for Mugabe is quoted by The Guardian:

“The second issue that the president wants this man of God to clarify is why his Anglican church thinks homosexuality is good for us and why it should be prescribed for us. He thinks the archbishop will be polite enough to point to him that portion of the Great Book [that] sanctions homosexuality and sanctions sanctions.”

I’ve been critical of the Archbishop in the past and continue to disagree with some of his positions, and his plans for the Anglican Covenant. Still, for him to challenge Mugabe directly in such a way is courageous. I wonder how many other leaders, political or religious, would be as brave. It’s also instructive to see how the Anglican debates are used by Mugabe and Kunonga to de-legitimize Williams’ message.

I’m also more than a little disappointed in the reaction among Episcopalians to this visit and the Archbishop’s words. While the Episcopal Cafe has covered the story, I’ve seen no mention from any of the bloggers who are most critical of Williams’ actions toward the Episcopal Church. I wonder why.

The text of Williams’ sermon is here. The Guardian’s article is here. Coverage by Thinking Anglicans is thorough; an article from the Episcopal Cafe.

A reflection from Nick Spencer on CNN’s Belief Blog:

Do we need denominations?

Ken Carter has written an essay arguing for the importance of denominations. His starting point is the problem of authority and governance. Using a non-denominational church as an example, he shows what happens when authority is situated only in the local congregation (and its pastor), and the problems that arise for staff and when conflict arises.

I love the local church. It is the basic context for the mission of making disciples for the transformation of the world. At the same time, the local church will, on occasion, be stronger as it accomplishes mission that is beyond its own capacity, and as it is accountable to a wisdom that is outside its own day to day movements. Here the analogy of Ronald Heifitz of the dance and the balcony is helpful. Faithful congregations and clergy are engaged in the dance, the daily and weekly movements that, added together, shape parish life: worship, spiritual formation, pastoral care, local and global outreach, evangelism. A balcony perspective, in times of health and in times of crisis, will help the local church to sustain this activity. The absence of such a balcony perspective, in particular circumstances, can lead to chaos and a constricting of the movement of energy. A denomination, at its best, provides that balcony perspective: a person in authority who can intervene in a season of conflict, or a compelling and needed mission that can lift the vision of a community beyond itself.

Carter’s essay is here.

One can see these dynamics at play in the Episcopal Church. In the last couple of weeks, we have seen increasing debate over national structure. This week saw the emergence of an investigation into the Episcopal Bishop of South Carolina (follow the story here, here, and here). Episcopalians believe our polity (bishops, dioceses, local parishes) is not simply a matter of convenience or “best practices,” but rather that it reflects the New Testament understanding of church (to be sure, Baptists, Presbyterians, et al, believe the same).

I think Carter is asking the wrong question. By focusing on conflict, authority, governance, and structure, he is emphasizing organization rather than mission and ministry. Few denominations, even when identified in terms of polity (Episcopal, Presbyterian) were created to embody that particular structure. Instead, they emerged out of unique theological, spiritual, and liturgical insights, which together make up their ethos. If denominations are to survive, it is because they will continue to embody a particular vision of the church, one that is not embodied in other forms of Christianity.

It’s when we lose sight of that, a particular ethos, charism, or voice, that denominations atrophy and deserve to die. At the same time, many of those non-denominational churches which Carter mentions have come to take on the characteristics of denominations, even if they don’t admit it. I think what we’re seeing, though, may not be the end of denominations, but their transformation into something different, more organic and fluid, and less structured.

I suppose the question for me in a case like the Diocese of South Carolina, is whether it continues to embody the charism of Anglicanism in its current form. I’m not able to make that judgment from this distance.

More on Stacy Sauls’ Proposal

I’m intrigued by the conversation about Bishop Sauls’ proposal to shift money from administration and governance toward ministry and mission. It’s an important conversation and has aroused considerable interest and emotion. Many seem to perceive it as an attack on the laity, particularly on lay governance, in the form of General Convention.

The reality is, things must change. Sauls’ presentation focuses on the financial realities confronting the church. They are real and potentially of enormous impact. But there are other realities, too. The Episcopal Cafe, in the midst of these postings about structural change within the denomination, found time to link to a study  that highlights the structural changes taking place in our society and in the religious life of Americans. The full study is available here: Decade of Change Final_0

The Episcopal Lead quotes:

“There is an overall decline in the numbers of faithful in the pews. Median weekly attendance in American congregations was 130 in 2000 and had dropped to 108 by 2010 . . . More disconcerting is the erosion in spiritual vitality. In 2005 about 43% of congregations reported high spiritual vitality and 5 years later this has dropped to 28%. This is paralleled by a decline in financial health in congregations…”

The conversation within the Episcopal Church may be driven by finances. It ought to be driven by this reality, the increase of those who identify themselves as non-religious and the very different ways in which younger cohorts relate to religious institutions than their elders did.

The burning question ought to be: How do we create vital spiritual communities that proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ in this environment? There are thousands of people who are asking this question and experimenting with possibilities both in our denomination throughout American Christianity. It ought to be our top priority as well. If we can’t adapt to this new reality, no amount of restructuring will matter. Nor should it.

Here’s is Bishop Sauls’ slideshow: Sauls’ presentation.

Here’s a link to the text.

The pushback has begun. Jim Naughton’s is publishing a series of posts examining the proposal. The first, examines “the political context.” It is here. It seems there is outcry that the leadership of General Convention were not consulted  and there is perception that this may be a powerplay from the House of Bishops to reduce the involvement of laity in governance. The second asks about mission. The third explores other ways of reducing overhead, including merging dioceses and rethinking national church headquarters in Manhattan.

A follow-up article from Episcopal News Service is here.

Mark Harris’ continuing commentary is here.

“Episcopal, but not religious”

From the Episcopal Church’s latest branding guidelines:

For those looking for more meaning and deepened spirituality, The Episcopal Church offers honest and unconditional acceptance, which removes barriers to Jesus Christ and permits belonging to an authentic church community.

I’m not sure what I don’t like about it, but my reaction is visceral. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been thinking about Philippians 2:

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus

who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death–
even death on a cross.”

To translate that into “honest and unconditional acceptance that removes barriers to Jesus Christ” seems empty of theological content or the possibility of personal transformation. But perhaps that’s just me.

I’m reminded of the “spiritual but not religious” debate I’ve been linking to.

 

Change coming to the structures of the Episcopal Church?

Bishop Stacy Sauls made a presentation to the recent meeting of the House of Bishops meeting proposing a radical restructuring of the Episcopal Church, beginning with the calling of a Special Convention. The ENS article is here.

Mark Harris has comments here and here. Much of Sauls’ proposal has to do with General Convention, but there are large points, as well. For example, he observes that the Episcopal Church spends about 47% of its budget on administration and governance; 53% on mission. The Better Business Bureau suggests a non-profit should spend no more than 35% on overhead expenses.

Elizabeth Kaeton welcomes the conversation but worries that it is beginning in the wrong place. We should start with clarity about mission, and then talk about funding priorities.

Conversations like these are of crucial importance, but they can’t be driven solely by concerns about cost-cutting. The structures of the Episcopal Church that were built up in the twentieth century were an attempt to live out a vision of the church and that they did. They also reflected the cultural values of the time. On this, Derek Penwell is correct. But what should the church look like in the twenty-first century? What should it be? These are questions that need careful, thoughtful discussion, and not just by those who are invested in the church as it is (Bishops, national church and diocesan staff, and General Convention deputies). That is a self-selected (occasionally appointed or elected) group. Centering the conversations among this group leaves important voices out, especially those whose experience of church is primarily, perhaps only, in the parish or a local ministry.

Most of us working in the trenches have little time or energy to waste on conversations at the national level, or even the diocesan, for that matter. We are too busy doing ministry and often too busy even to think about how we need to change and adapt in the twenty-first century. We know the old models and structures don’t work, but can’t think our way into a future.

But it’s not just us. It’s also all those who come to us for spiritual renewal, for hope and strength, for ways to reach out to those in need, and could care less about the larger church. They ought to be in the conversation as well, for it is they who will shape the twenty-first century church. If they are not part of the conversation, perhaps guiding it, we will just be rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.