Wake Up! Advent I, Year A

November 28, 2010

“Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme. Der Waechter sehr hoch auf der Zinne. Wach auf du stadt Jerusalem.” Today is the first Sunday of Advent and for me, Advent must begin with that Bach chorale, with the words by Philip Nicolai. We will sing them at the 10:00 service today—in English, of course. It’s not simply that this is a favorite hymn of mine, or that it’s an Advent hymn. No, this is one of those cases where the hymn writer expresses beautifully one of the key themes of the season. Continue reading

Tactics and Strategy in the Anglican Wars

It turns out that the so-called Oxford Statement was written over a month ago, but released on November 24. In it, a number of Primates declared their intentions not to attend the Primates’ Meeting in Dublin in January. The timing of the document’s publication is odd, however. It appeared on the day of the vote in General Synod to send the Anglican Covenant to the dioceses. According to Thinking Anglicans, it came out during the debate in General Synod, but too late to affect the voting.

One wonders whether GAFCON meant to upstage the Church of England’s meeting; whether they were asserting their independence, and the irrelevance to them of the Church of England’s position; whether they meant to release it earlier in order somehow to affect the voting (what we in the US call an “October surprise”).

Whatever the case, it seems to me that their actions have undermined all those, beginning with the Archbishop of Canterbury, who are trying to hold the Anglican Communion together; indeed all those who think the Anglican Communion is worth preserving, in whatever form.

Walking Apart: The End of the Anglican Communion

So, it turns out it wasn’t the Episcopal Church or the Anglican Church of Canada forced out of the Anglican Communion by the Global South Primates, but rather the Global Primates who have walked away. And they chose to do it on the same day that the Church of England General Synod voted to send the Covenant to dioceses for discussion.

For all the criticism of the Archbishop of Canterbury, on this blog and elsewhere throughout the last weeks, criticism that continues even today, the effects of his statements and years of effort, however futile, seem to have preserved something of Anglicanism, in spite of it all. Oh, there are apparently those who are leaving, the GAFCON Primates who signed the statement yesterday that they will not attend the Primates Meeting in Ireland in January. But as others have observed, it’s never quite clear whether all the signatories of GAFCON statements have actually signed or even agree with the statement. They have also made clear that they are having nothing of the covenant. The full statement from that group is here.

Mark Harris’ comment on this development is spot on:

GAFCON is on its way to forming an alternate way to be Anglican in the world, one which the Covenant does not support and the existing unifying elements in the Anglican Communion are irrelevant.

His full commentary is here.

Here is what Tobias Haller has to say.

Oh, I have no doubt that this is not the end of efforts to keep things together. But the Covenant was the last best shot from Williams, et al, to hold things together, and with the GAFCON folks not playing along, I see no way forward. Unless something radical happens, the Primates Meeting will be a rump; the conservative Primates not attending, or forcing the ABC to disinvite our Presiding Bishop, which would also lead to others pulling out, I suspect.

Whatever they will say about the Archbishop of Canterbury down the line, they won’t be able to criticize him for not trying hard enough to keep the Anglican Communion together. In my view, the timing of the GAFCON statement was a direct attack on Rowan and on his vision for Anglicanism.

David Hall on Puritans and Thanksgiving

According to his Op-Ed in the NYTimes today, the first Thanksgiving undoubtedly included turkey. More importantly, Hall, a professor at Harvard Divinity School, attempts to set the record straight on the misconceptions we have about the early New England colonists.

Hall stresses the political legacy of the Puritans. They were suspicious of hierarchy, both political and religious and sought to keep rulers on a short leash. Their congregational polity invested power in the laity, not in the clergy. Politically, they required annual elections and required that any law needed the consent of the governed to be valid.  In 1648, the Mass. Bay Colony published the first code of laws in the Anglo-American world.

According to Hall, they also sought the common good:

Contrary to Hawthorne’s assertions of self-righteousness, the colonists hungered to recreate the ethics of love and mutual obligation spelled out in the New Testament. Church members pledged to respect the common good and to care for one another. Celebrating the liberty they had gained by coming to the New World, they echoed St. Paul’s assertion that true liberty was inseparable from the obligation to serve others.

Another reminder of the importance at getting history right.

The Archbishop of Canterbury’s address at General Synod

The ABC’s address to General Synod today is available.

He talks about the Anglican Covenant and decision facing Synod concerning the ordination of women bishops. Here is the heart of his defense of it:

The Covenant offers the possibility of a voluntary promise to consult. And it also recognises that even after consultation there may still be disagreement, that such disagreement may result in rupture of some aspects of communion, and that this needs to be managed in a careful and orderly way. Now the risk and reality of such rupture is already there, make no mistake. The question is whether we are able to make an intelligent decision about how we deal with it. To say yes to the Covenant is not to tie our hands. But it is to recognise that we have the option of tying our hands if we judge, after consultation, that the divisive effects of some step are too costly. The question is how far we feel able to go in making our decisions in such a way as to keep the trust of our fellow-Anglicans in other contexts. If we decide that this is not the kind of relationship we want with other Anglicans, well and good. But it has consequences. Whatever happens, with or without the Covenant, the Communion will not simply stay the same. Historic allegiances cannot be taken for granted. They will survive and develop only if we can build up durable and adult bonds of fellowship. And in this respect, the Church of England is bound to engage in this process as one member of the Communion among others. The fact is that the mutual loyalty of the Communion needs work, and the Covenant proposals are the only sign at the moment of the kind of work that has to be done.

The ABC is rarely clear in his writing but the key sentences seems to be these: “The question is how far we feel able to go in making our decisions in such a way as to keep the trust of our fellow-Anglicans in other contexts. If we decide that this is not the kind of relationship we want with other Anglicans, well and good. But it has consequences.” One might turn the question back on him, because clearly the decision to ordain women bishops has led to the breaking of trust with some groups within the Church of England. He would undoubtedly say that he wants to keep the trust of those fellow-Anglicans, but they had no desire to do the same. So then what?

More interesting still is his decision to build his essay around John Wesley. A good Anglican, certainly, but when it became necessary, he took actions that led to the creation of the Methodist Church in the USA. That wasn’t an action taken lightly, but it certainly broke the trust with the Church of England and with Episcopalians in the US. And those actions had enormous consequences for both denominations, impoverishing each in some ways, but at the same time creating structures that would contribute to the enormous growth of Methodism in the US.

One might conclude that Rowan wants us to follow Wesley’s lead and go our separate way.

 

More developments in Anglicanism

Some interesting developments. An excellent essay by Jim Naughton on Episcopal Cafe; one of the more important observations:

One doesn’t have to be a lawyer to notice that the covenant contains no standards of evidence, and provides for nothing resembling due process, The Standing Committee of the Anglican Communion can investigate complaints in whatever manner it sees fit. Perhaps this is unsurprising. If the only fact at issue is whether a party has given offense, the only evidence necessary is the offended party’s assertion that they are, indeed offended.

A news release from No Anglican Covenant.

 

Keeping track of all the words written in the last few weeks would be a full-time job. The Church of England General Synod will be debating the covenant tomorrow. It promises to be interesting.

 

Bach Revelations

The Madison Bach Musicians, under the direction of Trevor Stevenson, gave two concerts at Grace this past weekend. The program consisted of three cantatas. It was a wonderful concert and I am sorry I was unable to attend the pre-concert lecture.

I was especially moved by BWV 106: “Gottes Zeit ist die allerbester Zeit.” The text (German and English) is here. It’s a remarkable piece of music and profound theologically. From the earliest period of Bach’s work, it was probably composed for a funeral. As such, it is a meditation on the universality of death and the Christian hope of the resurrection. Weaving together scripture with chorale verses, Bach elicits a wide range of emotions in the listener and inspires reflection.

It begins with a statement of faith in the transcendence of God:

God’s time is the best of all times.
In Him we live, move and are, as long as He wills.
In Him we die at the appointed time, when He wills.

Then come a series of quotations from the Hebrew Bible that emphasize the finality and inevitability of death. Message and tone change abruptly as the soprano sings “Yes, Come, Lord Jesus.”

After that, another series of quotations, this time from the New Testament. In the Sunday performance, an Alto sang two quotations from Jesus’ last words on the cross, “Into your hands I commend my spirit;” and “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” In the first, Jesus is addressing his Father, at the moment of death returning from whence he had come. In the second, Jesus is addressing one of the two bandits with whom he was crucified and responding to the request “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.”

In the mouth of the alto, both become statements of faith; the first is a confession that God is merciful, the second expresses the belief that death is not the end.

The cantata concludes with two chorale stanzas. The first is from Luther

With peace and joy I depart
in God’s will,
My heart and mind are comforted,
calm, and quiet.
As God had promised me:
death has become my sleep.

Apparently, it’s a paraphrase of the Nunc Dimittis, the words Simeon sang when he encountered the newborn Jesus Christ. The second is a hymn praise to the glory and majesty of God.

What a revelation! In a few minutes, Bach takes the listener through the gamut of emotions and at the same time expresses a deep understanding of the Christian faith. The performance was magnificent. Wow! It was great to be able to host this event at Grace. Good crowds at both performances, and the acoustics were perfect for the ensemble.

Bodies–The Exhibition, Updated

I blogged about this last week. I learned just today that a panel discussion on the religious and ethical implications of the exhibit is scheduled for December 7.

Here is the announcement:
Because the exhibition raises a number of medical, ethical,  educational and religious questions dealing with the acquisition  and display of human bodies, Beth Israel Center, the conservative  synagogue in Madison, will host a public discussion about the  exhibition. The event will feature a distinguished panel whose  members will provide insights into the many issues that the  exhibition raises. The panel’s comments will be followed by a  discussion with the audience. The purpose of the event is education, not advocacy.

The panelists will include: Rabbi Joshua Ben-Gideon (Beth Israel  Center), UW Prof. Pilar Ossorio (Law and Bioethics), Fr. Patrick  Norris (Blessed Sacrament Church), and UW Prof. Walton O. Schalick  (Medical History and Bioethics). A representative of the exhibition  staff has been invited.

The event will occur from 7:00-9:00 p.m. at Beth Israel Center,  1406 Mound Street, corner of Randall Ave. and is co-sponsored by  Congregation Shaari Shamayim and Blessed Sacrament Church. There is  no charge for admission. People of all faiths and those without  religious affiliation are welcome to attend.

A Sermon for Christ the King, Year C

November 21, 2010

We have come to the end of the liturgical year. We have also, in the gospel reading come to the end of Jesus’ long journey to Jerusalem. We have reached the culmination of both of those journeys and today, we hear again the words we heard last Spring on Palm Sunday when the whole of Luke’s passion narrative was read. The power and emotion of the passion narrative is such that it is difficult to pay attention to the details of the story in the midst of the overwhelming emotions of that important day.

One might think it rather odd to close the church year with this particular gospel reading, the account of Jesus’ death. Particularly odd, perhaps, given that the last Sunday of the liturgical year is known as Christ the King. That title conjures up images of majesty and power. The hymns we sing reinforce such images on a day like this. And for us at Grace, each time we worship, our eyes are drawn to the wooden Christus Rex, Christ the King that hangs from the ceiling behind me. Although it shows an image of Christ on the cross, the Christ who is depicted is not in agony, but rather is triumphant, having vanquished his enemies.

The gospel tells a very different story. Jesus is on the cross and the inscription on it, the charge leveled against him and for which he was executed—King of the Jews. But a crucifixion has very little to do with power and majesty. Instead, we think of Jesus on the cross as weak and powerless.

Luke’s story of Jesus’ crucifixion diverges markedly from the story told by Mark and Matthew. The question is not whether one version is closer to the truth or not—none of the gospel writers were present at the scene. What’s important is what each writer is trying to convey by telling the story in the unique way they do. Only Luke includes the interchange between Jesus and the two robbers. Only Luke has Jesus say, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” In Luke as well, the centurion who oversees the execution says, “Truly this man was innocent.” This contrasts with the confession that Jesus was the Son of God, as Mark and Matthew have it.

Luke tells the story in this way to underscore several of the themes he has emphasized throughout his gospel and in the Book of Acts as well, which he wrote in conjunction with the gospel. One of those themes has to do with forgiveness of sins. Repeatedly in the gospel, more often than in either Matthew or Mark, Jesus forgives the sins of those he encounters. It’s not just that Jesus hangs out with bad guys or demands repentance. Rather, to sin, in the ancient world was to be profoundly outside of the community. By forgiving sins, Jesus is restoring people to community, especially those, who by definition were sinners and excluded.

The second important theme for Luke is that this new Christian community of which he writes presents no threat to the Roman Empire. Time and again in the gospel and in Acts, Luke underscores the point that these Christians, no matter what they might be accused of, hold no desires of overthrowing Rome. Thus the centurion’s words, “Truly this man was innocent” are meant to stress that Jesus was not guilty of the crime with which he was charged—namely inciting revolt against Rome.

Typically, when we hear today’s gospel, we put ourselves in the shoes of bystanders who know what’s going on. The story of the crucifixion is so familiar to us, its meaning for our lives and for the world so often repeated, that to hear the story with fresh ears is exceedingly difficult. Jesus is crucified, by Romans and by Jews either because they think his talk of the kingdom of God constitutes some sort of political and military threat to the Roman Empire or because he challenges the religious power of the Jewish leadership.

In such a reading, the Romans, and perhaps the Jewish leaders got it wrong because they didn’t quite understand that Jesus’ kingdom was not in the here and now, it was the Kingdom of Heaven, as Matthew puts it, an internal, spiritual kingdom to which we all have access whatever our political affiliation. There is some truth in that view, but it misses the point.

There are two dramatic statements in today’s gospel. On the one hand there is the kingship to which the soldiers and the onlookers refer when they mock Jesus, telling him to save himself, and when they ridicule him for the inscription, or charge laid against him “King of the Jews.” On the other hand, there is the kingdom to which the one criminal refers when he pleads with Jesus, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

While the irony of the soldiers’ mocking of Jesus is clear, one wonders about what Luke, or the criminal might have meant by these words. What kingdom is possessed by a man dying on the cross? Luke’s gospel presses that question. It is a question we must ask ourselves as well.

The answer to that question is clear. The image of someone, his body broken, scourged, mocked, crumpled on a cross in a hideous crucifixion, is also the image of Christ the King. But lest we are tempted to say, “Christ’s kingship is not of this world” we need to remember one thing. Jesus was crucified because he was a king. He was crucified because the Romans did perceive him as a threat to their rule. Jesus’ kingdom may be of a very different sort than the Roman Empire, but it is a kingdom nonetheless.

To proclaim Christ as King is to proclaim the reign of God. But no matter how seductive all the trappings of earthly kingship and power might be, in the end, the reign of God is just what Jesus said it was, a community in which there is radical love and the King comes among us as one who serves. The reign proclaimed by Jesus Christ does present a challenge to the powers and principalities of this world. It proclaims that what matters is not wealth or power or success, but rather “the least of these,” the poor and the oppressed, the destitute and downcast. And it proclaims that Christ’s kingdom comes not in a blaze of glory or the destruction of its enemies, but in love and peace.

We humans lack imagination. When we attempt to think about the power and majesty of God in Christ, we fall back to imagery that is thousands of years old, imagery that draws on millennia of violence, power, and emphasizes the rich trappings of monarchy rather than the poverty in which most humans have lived. Today of course, to talk about kings and queens is almost meaningless; they are no more important than any other celebrity, and like other celebrities, what chiefly interests us are their lifestyles, their wealth, and their fame.

What we don’t see are the ways in which such imagery creates a certain attitude in us. Pomp and majesty are not just about the splendor and power of the ruler. They are also intended to keep the rest of us in our place. The trappings of empire are with us still. Did you know that most of the vestments we clergy wear have their origins in the costumes of the Roman imperial classes? The Roman Empire is with us still.

Jesus beckons to us with the promise of a different kingdom, a reign that begins not in power and majesty, but in a manger in Bethlehem. In one sense, it ended on Calvary. But in another way, Calvary is the clearest expression of Christ’s kingship. He rules, not by coercion or force, but by self-giving love.

To confess Christ as King is to confess, above all, that our primary allegiance and commitment is to God in heaven, not to anything in this world, whether it be a nation, our family, fame or fortune. To confess Christ as king, means that we seek to live as he lived, to give ourselves in service to human and to our fellow humans. To confess Christ as king commits us to seeking to realize his values, his message, his love in the world. Only then can we, with the criminal on the cross, plead, “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.”

The Leavers: Young Doubters Exit the Church | Christianity Today | A Magazine of Evangelical Conviction

I linked a couple of days ago to an article highlighting a study about the importance of spirituality to college students. Now comes an article from the venerable Christianity Today that examines the growing exodus of young adults from Christianity. The author, Drew Dyck, cites from a number of studies that young people are leaving church 5-6 times faster today than in previous generations; that up to 3/4 of those who grow up in church leave. It’s a dire prognosis, and Dyck places much of the blame on the response doubters get when they raise questions about their faith. He also suggests “moral compromise” contributes to the problem.

If you read my blog, you know by now that I’m not terribly concerned about such statistics; in fact, I think they offer the Episcopal Church an opportunity. Anglicanism used to be a tradition that encouraged intellectual reflection and fostered serious questions about the faith. We are also openly and publicly struggling with issues with which people struggle everyday.

The full article is here: The Leavers: Young Doubters Exit the Church | Christianity Today | A Magazine of Evangelical Conviction.

But there’s an irony here. How is it that a study can find college students engaging spiritual questions more deeply, while at the same time they are leaving institutional churches? Perhaps because those churches are not safe places for engaging spiritual questions. I hope Grace Church and the Episcopal Church are safe and welcoming environments for such spiritual questions.