Centering the Oneida in the Story of the Episcopal Church in Wisconsin

On May 4, the three Episcopal dioceses of Wisconsin met jointly at the Ho-Chunk Gaming in Baraboo for a convention at which each diocese would vote on the proposal to reunify the three dioceses. I had been involved in the so-called Trialogue and I was curious to see what would happen. But more than the vote on reunification, I was curious about something else, namely how the story of the Episcopal Church in Wisconsin would be told and how that story would contribute to the future identity of the church.  Finally, the moment I was waiting for arrived. No, not the announcement of the voting results, although that was a historic moment of great significance. For me the most powerful moment, a taste of spiritual transcendence, came earlier, during the convention Eucharist. After the post-communion prayer and a brief pause for silence a lone voice was raised to sing the Te Deum in the Oneida language. I had read about the Oneida Singers. I had heard recordings of the Te Deum and I knew of the tradition that the Te Deum was sung at all conventions of the Diocese of Fond du Lac. It was a historic day and the inclusion of the Te Deum sung by descendants of the first Episcopalians to arrive in what is now Wisconsin bore powerful witness to the complicated history of the Episcopal church in Wisconsin and the United States.

As I have reflected on that moving experience and on a day full of excitement and joy, I began to wonder what difference it might make if the story of the Episcopal Church in Wisconsin was centered on the Oneida story rather than on the stereotypical denominational history of arrival, institution-building, and now decline. Unlike most white settlers in Wisconsin, the Oneida came largely against their will, forced from their homes by land speculators and westward expansion. They built the first Episcopal Church in Wisconsin, continued to worship and to pass on their faith to later generations. Deacons and priests were raised up from among them and they carried their faith with them as they moved and were forced to assimilate. The larger Episcopal community honored and protected them, most notably by leading the resistance to their removal from Wisconsin to Indian Territory in the late 19th century. But it is a story that is largely unknown by most Wisconsin Episcopalians. Certainly when I’ve mentioned it to most Wisconsin Episcopalians, they express amazement and wonder to learn of the Oneida connection. A collection of essays sheds important light on the relationship of the Wisconsin Oneida and the Episcopal Church: The Wisconsin Oneidas and the Episcopal Church: A Chain Linking Two Traditions.

To center the Oneida experience in the story of the Episcopal Church in Wisconsin complicates the narrative, exposing all the ways in which Episcopalians participated in settler colonialism and profited from the exploitation and expulsion of Wisconsin’s indigenous peoples. It would emphasize the reality that the church is a flawed, sinful institution, as any human institution is, even as it participates in the perfection and holiness of Christ. To center the Oneida in the Episcopal story in Wisconsin moving forward, it could help us overcome our presentist bias—the assumption that we know better than those who have come before us—and encourage us to build future communities that are better attuned to the limits of our perspective and knowledge. It might also encourage us to center reconciliation and restorative justice at the heart of our work and common life. It might also compel us to seek out other stories that have been forgotten, or suppressed, or ignored over the decades of our history. It might challenge us to consider how our unexpressed assumptions about the identity and mission of the Episcopal Church could be a detriment to the thriving of the Episcopal witness and charism in a rapidly changing nation and world.

Reflecting on the Trialogue and the Reunion of the Wisconsin Dioceses of the Episcopal Church

When I became an Episcopalian in 1992, I had little knowledge of the history and culture of the Episcopal Church. I was already familiar with the Book of Common Prayer, I had had several classmates in Divinity School who were preparing for the priesthood, and of course I knew a great deal about the emergence of the Church of England during the sixteenth century. But I had only the vaguest conception of the denomination, how dioceses were formed, the culture of the denomination, or the significant differences in the church in different regions of the country. 

That all changed when we began teaching at the University of the South (Sewanee), which is owned by the southern dioceses of the Episcopal Church, includes a School of Theology where I taught for a year, and has a distinctive theological and liturgical ethos. Eventually, we would move to South Carolina where the Episcopal Church has its own idiosyncrasies. Over the years, I would hear priests joke about the “biretta belt”—by which they were referring to unspecified dioceses in the Midwest that included Northern Indiana, Chicago, and the dioceses of Wisconsin. By then I also knew about Nashotah House, the seminary in Wisconsin but my impression of it was shaped by the long battles over the ordination of women and the full inclusion of LGBTQ+ people in the life of the church. I had a vague sense of the Anglo-Catholic culture of the Diocese of Fond du Lac. The bishop who ordained me, Dorsey Henderson, had been Dean of the Cathedral of Fond du Lac and was very Anglo-Catholic, and at some point I had heard something about the. Fond du Lac Circus (google it if you’re curious). 

Surprisingly, none of that really changed when I became Rector of Grace in 2009. I’ve only ever been on the campus of Nashotah House once in my fifteen years in Wisconsin. I don’t think I had met any clergy from either the diocese of Fond du Lac or Eau Claire except Bishop Gunther who was on the Board of Directors of the Wisconsin Council of Churches when I began serving. I did know about the failed attempt at the reunification of the Dioceses of Eau Claire and Fond du Lac in 2011 and there were comments from time to time from clergy and Bishop about the future of the Diocese of Eau Claire. 

When the Trialogue was announced in 2021, I was surprised at the initiative and somewhat excited about the project. I volunteered to help with the Trialogue and was assigned to the Task Force on Parish and Regional Engagement. We were assigned to hear from congregations, laypeople, and clergy across the state but it was also an opportunity to develop relationships with clergy and lay leaders from the other two dioceses. Two joint clergy conferences in 2022 and 2024 have also helped deepen those relationships. 

It’s easy to forget that we are part of a larger church, a diocese, the Episcopal Church USA, and the Anglican Communion. Many of us come to the Episcopal Church as adults. We are drawn to the liturgy, looking for a Christian community that shares our values and where we can experience the presence of God in Christ. The larger church rarely enters our consciousness except at times of conflict.  Few of us have participated in diocesan work. Even if we have heard of the Trialogue and of the upcoming vote on reunification, we may not care about it. It seems not to affect our parish life or our own spiritual lives. In addition, the Diocese of Milwaukee hasn’t had a permanent bishop since 2020 and Bishop Lee, who served as our Bishop Provisional, retired (again) last year. Our primary experience of the church is the local congregation and that’s not likely to change.

There is another important matter to consider. We have heard a great deal about the decline of mainline Christianity in the US and then more recently about the decline of Christianity across the board. Increasing percentages of Americans claim no religious affiliation at all and all denominations are reporting declines in attendance and membership. These trends were accelerated by the pandemic. In such an environment, what does the future of the Episcopal Church look like?

Unlike nondenominational churches that have no structural connection to other congregations or churches that have a polity (structure) based on congregational autonomy, we belong to the Episcopal Church. We are not independent. When I was ordained, I vowed obedience to the Bishop who was ordaining me and when I was installed as Rector of Grace Church, I reiterated those vows. We believe that our bishops are in the apostolic succession, an unbroken line of women and men ordained by the laying on of hands going back to St. Peter and to Christ. Bishops are a visible symbol of our participation in the church universal, the Body of Christ that consists of all Christians, living and dead, united by one common faith and baptism.

Still, does it matter whether there are one, or two, or three dioceses in the State of Wisconsin? Perhaps not in the larger scheme of things. At the same time, it’s important to remember that dioceses are required to do certain things canonically—to oversee the ordination process, to have and pay for a bishop. And there are also programmatic things: communications, outreach, congregational development. With limited financial and human resources, the three dioceses of Wisconsin are stretched thin as they try to conduct the business of the church. Reunification might free up some of those resources for new ministries and programs. We might be able to offer stronger support to small congregations that feel isolated. The proposal to have ministry regions and for the bishop to be in residence in each of those regions for several weeks each year might create opportunities for collaboration and connection on a local level that could spark new ideas and programs.

Christianity is undergoing a historical transformation in this country and the Episcopal Church is experiencing that transformation. What the Episcopal Church will look like in fifty years is anyone’s guess. Whether dioceses will even exist or whether the denominational structure that currently exists will survive in any recognizable form are open questions. What we can be certain of is that Christians will continue to gather in community to read and study scripture and to celebrate the Eucharist. Most of all, we can be certain that Jesus Christ will be present in those communities and that people will continue to experience the grace, love, and power of the Risen Christ. Those local communities are and will be a part of a larger reality, the Body of Christ, that unites us across space and time with all faithful Christians living and dead and strengthens us with the love of Christ that binds us all together as one.

Structure and Spirit: A Sermon for Easter 7B, 2024

May 12, 2024

We’ve been talking a lot over the last few weeks about things that are taking place across the Episcopal Church. There was the special convention last weekend where clergy and lay delegates from all three Episcopal Dioceses in Wisconsin voted to move forward with reunification. That decision will have to be ratified at the General Convention of the Episcopal Church that is taking place the last week of June in Louisville KY. There will be a lot more on the agenda of General Convention—including the election of a presiding bishop to replace Bishop Michael Curry, whose term ends this year. No doubt there will be talk of prayer book revision, or liturgical revision, always a hot-button issue in the Episcopal Church.

As I said in my sermon two weeks ago, most of us don’t pay close attention to the structures and governance of the church. We’re content to come to church from time to time, or quite regularly, and volunteer in some way to support our ministry and mission, whether that is through participating in worship or in one of our committees or groups, or at the food pantry or the Beacon. Most of us don’t like to think about the nuts and bolts of structure and governance and even if we are cajoled into serving on vestry, our church council, we serve our three-year term and never look back. For some, a term on vestry or as warden is enough to turn us off church forever.

Still, like any human institution, the church needs structure. And often we look back to scripture to help us shape our structures. And where better to start than with the passage from Acts we just heard? 

We’ve been jumping around in Acts during Eastertide and now we’re back in the first chapter. In Luke’s telling of the story, this takes place right after the ascension, which he relates both at the end of the gospel of Luke and here in the beginning of Acts. Typically, the lectionary omits the juiciest parts, in this case Luke’s version of Judas’ death; but it is Judas’ betrayal and death that accounts for what comes next and what we do hear, the choice of Matthias as an apostle to replace the betrayer.

It’s quite interesting that the lectionary editors chose to include this little episode in our reading from Acts this year, and that they placed it here, after we’ve heard the wonderful stories of the spirit’s movement—the Ethiopian Eunuch, and the story of Cornelius the Centurion, and before Pentecost, when again we hear a story of the movement of the Spirit.

But in today’s reading while we hear of the movement of the Spirit, it is to do something quite different, namely to provide for order, succession, and structure. It’s interesting to see that even at this early point, the disciples, Jesus’ closest companions, even as they waited for whatever might happen next, were making plans, preparing, setting some guidelines for how they would move forward. It would happen again, throughout Acts as new situations developed—when the community needed more people to help with all the tasks at hand, a group of deacons were commissioned to help distribute food and money to the needy among them. And later, when conflict arose over the relationship among Jews and Gentiles, a council of the leadership was called. Meeting in Jerusalem, they made decisions how to move forward in this new situation.

In addition to omitting the description of Judas’ death; the lectionary editors made one more significant omission. Had they included v. 14, the verse immediately preceding the specified reading, we would have learned that it was not just the eleven who were gathered in this upper room, there were about 120 people—women as well as men, and specifically including Jesus’ mother Mary. One of the themes of Acts, though perhaps one that has been often overlooked, is the important role played by women in the early decades of the Jesus movement, and we see that here as well. It’s the same group that is gathered when the Holy Spirit comes down like flames upon their heads, men and women together receiving that gift and power. 

The gospel reading offers another perspective on this dynamic. Here, we are meant to imagine the same room, probably many of the same people, but chronologically we are taken back before Christ’s crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension, to the Last Supper.

In John’s gospel, Jesus speaks extensively to his disciples about his departure, preparing them for what is to come. In chapter 17, at the end of that lengthy discourse, Jesus offers what is often called the High Priestly Prayer, a conversation, not with his disciples but with God the Father. It’s fascinating what the disciples might have thought of this as they overheard this intimate conversation.

There are a number of themes that emerge from this prayer that Jesus offers to God on behalf of his disciples. The first is the inherent unity of Jesus and the Father, and because of the relationship between Jesus and the disciples, the unity of them with God. Jesus asks the Father to protect them “so that they may be one as we are one.”

Another theme of note is the world—the cosmos. It’s important to recognize all the different ways the cosmos is conceived in John’s gospel. Here we see a fundamental contrast between God and the world; the world is depicted as evil, a threat to the disciples. But even as we hear these words, we must remember other ways in which the cosmos is described: “For God so loved the world…” God loves the world, even in all of its brokenness.

There is one underlying motif that needs mention. We often think of our relationship with Jesus or with God, as a wholly vertical one—it’s about me and God, and my relationships with others might get in the way of that. But here the stress is on community—community of Christ with God, and community of the disciples with God through Christ. There is a horizonality to this relationship with God. Relationship with God is only fully realized if it is expressed in the context of relationship with others. 

And that may be where we return to our starting point. Community can’t exist without structure. Nations, states, cities, have laws that govern our relationships with others. The church too requires structure and governance to survive. Those structures may seem unwieldy at times; they may seem to stand in the way of the movement of the spirit and we may become so frustrated by the details of life in community that we abandon it for the chimera of experiencing God on our own, in the silence and quiet of our minds.

But especially now, as we see the lingering effects of the breakdown of community in our world, with egotism and self-interest running riot, the excesses of neoliberalism and unbridled capitalism; the tendency to erect barriers between groups and to vilify those who hold different beliefs or have different sexualities, or national or ethnic origins, the need to build community, to strengthen community is greater than ever.

To imagine, and make visible a community of Christian love, uniting disparate individuals together, and uniting them with Christ and with God can be a witness to a world in which community is shattering and shattered, where individuals seek meaning and connection that can only be fully realized in relationship with Christ and with others. May we make that community a reality, here in Madison and in the world.

Acknowledging our History, Acknowledging the Land

Grace, Madison explores Native American issues including land acknowledgement

Over the last eight years, the Creating More Just Community Task Force of Grace Episcopal Church has been engaged in education and advocacy around racism in the United States and In Madison. We hosted speakers for community-wide events, became involved in faith-based community organizing groups like MOSES and WISDOM working on criminal justice reform. We have marched, hosted candidate forums, and held series of dialogues on racism for parishioners and community members. That work continues.

In 2021, we have broadened our interests. Thanks in part to several of us attending the Wisconsin Council of Churches Annual Meeting, where the Rev. Jim Bear Jacobs, Program Director for Racial Justice for the Minnesota Council of Churches and a member of the Stockbridge-Munsee Mohicans was keynote speaker. His passionate address led us to wonder how we might begin to engage with Native Americans as citizens of Wisconsin and as members of Grace Episcopal Church. 

We are fortunate to have members who have worked on Native American issues professionally and who have deep personal relationships with members of several tribes across the state. Early in 2021, several of the most knowledgeable Grace members and I met with Ada Deer, Professor Emerita of Social Work at UW Madison and former Assistant Secretary of the Interior for Indian Affairs in the Clinton Administration. She is a member of the Menominee Tribe. We discussed with her how the conversations at Grace might take place, what some of the important issues are, and what potential challenges we might face as we began our work.

Eventually, an invitation was issued for interested people to gather via zoom for an initial conversation and planning session. Around twenty people joined us for our first conversation that offered opportunities for us to get to know each other, learn a little about our interest and background related to Native American history, religion, and culture, and to begin to think about how we might help Grace Church as a whole become more informed and engaged with the complicated and tragic history of Christianity and especially the Episcopal Church’s relationships with Native Americans.

Over the last few months we have learned about the history of Native Americans in Wisconsin, especially the HoChunk and the Oneida. We have talked about the Doctrine of Discovery and the Episcopal Church’s official repudiation of it. We have reached out to the HoChunk and to Holy Apostles’ Episcopal Church in Oneida, WI. Our most recent meeting took place only a few days after the discovery of mass graves on the grounds of a former residential school in British Columbia, and we began asking questions about the Episcopal Church’s history of Native residential schools. 

On Tuesday, June 29, we met with Bill Quackenbush, Tribal Historic Preservation Officer of the HoChunk, to begin a conversation concerning land acknowledgment, one of the concrete ways churches, political entities, and organizations can begin to address their relationship with the people who lived on the land we now call home. We began at the Goodman Campus of Madison College (South Madison) which has a land acknowledgement plaque prominently placed. Then we came to Grace Church where we explored what land acknowledgement might look like at Grace and how our efforts to be a place of spiritual respite on Capitol Square might explicitly include an invitation to Wisconsin tribes. Finally, we ended at the Goodman Community Center, where we talked with Bill for two hours about HoChunk history, effigy mounds and burial sites, and the challenging but rewarding work of building relationships with Native Americans.

It is likely that as our work continues we will focus on several areas. 

  1. Land Acknowledgement—working on language, siting, and discussing scope of project
  2. Exploring the history of Episcopal residential schools. While records exist, there has not been any significant work done in telling the story of the schools and repenting for the damage done to lives and to indigenous cultures.
  3. Connecting with the Wisconsin Oneidas to learn about the history, traditions, and contemporary life of the Oneidas, who when the first group came to Wisconsin from New York in 1822, were the first Episcopalians in what is now the state of Wisconsin.
  4. Working with the Wisconsin Council of Churches to develop resources for congregations across the state to explore land acknowledgement and other Native American issues.

We expect that in the coming months, we will develop a road map other interested congregations might use with their own work. In the meantime, we encourage you to learn about the Doctrine of Discovery, the history of the Episcopal Church’s relationship with Native Americans, and about the Native Americans who are our neighbors and live throughout the state. For more information on these items, here are some resources:

Patty Loew, Indian Nations of Wisconsin. 2nd Edition. Wisconsin Historical Society Press, 2013

L. Gordon McLester III, Laurence M. Hauptman, Judy Cornelius-Hawk, and Kenneth Hoyan House, eds., The Wisconsin Oneidas and the Episcopal Church: A Chain Linking Two Traditions. Indiana University Press, 2019

“The Episcopal Church exposes the Doctrine of Discovery”

Dismantling the Doctrine of Discovery—The Beloved Community Initiative

Just last week, The Rev’d Tom Ferguson (former Interim Chaplain of St. Francis House Campus Ministry here at UW) wrote an essay calling for the Episcopal Church to address its history with Native Schools. At least 18 schools were operated by the Episcopal Church in the 19th and 20th centuries.

The Future of the Diocese of Milwaukee: Looking back on strategic planning

I have been thinking a great deal about the future of the Episcopal Church in Wisconsin and specifically in the Diocese of Milwaukee. As we begin the search for a new bishop, I am concerned that we ask the right questions and honestly assess our current situation. I hope that we can imagine a future that remains faithful to our past, recognizes our failures, and celebrates our successes, and allows us to move freely forward under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

Having been here since 2009 and serving on the Diocesan Executive Council for the last six years, I know something of the challenges facing our diocese. But there is also a great deal I don’t know. I’ve never visited all of our congregations; I’ve not had substantive conversations with many of my fellow clergy, and the number of lay people beyond Grace Church who I recognize, is quite small. I have little idea what it’s like to be Episcopalian in Racine, Kenosha, Milwaukee, let alone Beaver Dam or Dousman. In fact, I wonder whether we really have a sense of ourselves as a single body of Christ in this area, the Diocese of Milwaukee. We come together once a year for Diocesan Convention. The last several years it’s been a single day, with Eucharist, business meeting, and lunch. There’s no time to get to know each other. Much of this assessment be unique to my situation but I wonder how a successful search can be accomplished if a diocese doesn’t know itself well. Perhaps gaining such knowledge is the important initial phase of a search process.

For some reason, I was looking back over some past pieces I’d written about the future of the Episcopal Church and the Diocese of Milwaukee. In the course of that, I came across a post I had written back in 2013 in conjunction with the Strategic Planning document I had helped work on for the previous year and a half. Like so many similar projects, it’s often the case that such work is filed away and largely ignored. I don’t know whether that happened in this case. Still it’s worth reading to get a sense of the challenges we were facing in 2013, and to reflect on what has changed since then.

The document talks about decline. Between 2001 and 2011, membership in the diocese fell from 14000 to 10000; average Sunday attendance from 6000 to 4000. That decline has continued. Most recent figures show membership around 8000 and average Sunday attendance closer to 3000. Reference is made in the document to the need to think strategically about parishes and congregations–whether the congregations we have are well-positioned for future growth and sustainability, whether we might need to close a number that are unlikely to survive, and whether we have too many congregations in some places.

All is not negative. The documents reminds us of our history:

Our tendency is to interpret these trends as a narrative of decline from a glorious past. But the history of our diocese teaches a different lesson. The Episcopal Church in Wisconsin began with the heroic efforts of Bishop Kemper to plant churches on the frontier. Lay people shared his vision and sacrificed time, energy, and financial resources that built many of the churches and institutions that now make up the Diocese of Milwaukee. Along the way, many other churches and institutions (schools, mission efforts, and the like) were founded. Some thrived for a time and died; others were transformed to meet the needs of new situations and communities. Our history is a story of innovation, creativity, and mission. It is a story of success and failure.

Is it a case of a lost opportunity? I’m not sure. As we begin our search for a new bishop, I’m struck that some of those recommendations continue to be relevant, and some of the hopes we expressed in 2013, specifically for deeper relationships among the congregations, the clergy and lay people, seem not to have been realized.

You can read the whole document here: taskforcereport_revised

And let the litigation begin again.

It seems that the Episcopal Church is in a constant state of litigation. Over the last decade and a half, we’ve seen repeated conflict across the church in response to the moves toward full inclusion of LGBT persons in our life and ministry. Now, millions of dollars later in legal fees, with courts consistently affirming the Episcopal Church’s position that dioceses are not independent of General Convention, another round of such litigation is likely. First, we’ll have to see how things play out within the Church.

This past summer, General Convention passed resolution B012 which mandated that bishops opposed to same-sex marriage make pastoral provisions for couples, congregations, and clergy who sought to solemnize such marriages in their dioceses. Several of the bishops opposed to same-sex marriage have offered such provision, some are still discerning. One, Bishop William H. Love of the Diocese of Albany, announced in November that he would not offer such pastoral provisions.

As was to be expected, an disciplinary proceeding was begun against Bishop Love. Such proceedings, or complaints, can be made by anyone within the Church, so the likelihood that someone or some group would initiate the proceeding was highly likely. Less certain was whether the Presiding Bishop would take any additional action while the disciplinary proceeding was moving forward. Yesterday, Presiding Bishop Curry published his response: to restrict partially and temporarily Bishop Love’s exercise of ministry. Specifically, Bishop Love may not participate in any diocesan disciplinary proceeding against a priest who performs same-sex marriage, “nor may he penalize any member of the clergy or laity or worshipping congregation of his Diocese for their participation in the arrangements for or participation in a same-sex marriage in his Diocese or elsewhere.”

Now, Bishop Love has issued his response to the response. Unsurprisingly, and unfortunately, he will appeal the Presiding Bishop’s restriction on his ministry and vigorous challenge the disciplinary proceeding. He bases his appeal on the definition of marriage in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer:

The official teaching of this Church as outlined in the rubrics of the Marriage Service in the Book of Common Prayer is that: “Christian marriage is a solemn and public covenant between a man and woman in the presence of God.” (BCP 422). Canon 16 of the Constitution and Canons of the Diocese of Albany upholds this teaching and remains in effect until it is either changed by the Diocesan Convention, or it is legally proven to be over-ridden by the legitimate actions of General Convention; none of which has yet taken place.

Now, I’m no canon lawyer, but it would seem to me that because the Book of Common Prayer is itself authoritative because of an act of General Convention, General Convention has the power to rescind or modify anything stated within the BCP. Likely, there’s some fancy canon lawyer parsing of later General Convention actions, that will be the hinge on which any ecclesiastical disciplinary proceeding will depend.

The other key element in Bishop Love’s defense is his appeal to the definition of marriage in the Constitution and Canons of the Diocese of Albany, which he says will remain in effect until changed by Diocesan Convention or legally proven to be over-ridden by the legitimate actions of General Convention. Here Bishop Love is appealing to the familiar, but often proved wrong, argument that dioceses are independent of General Convention. It’s wrong, because General Convention has the power to create and dissolve dioceses.

What’s so unfortunate about all this is that it is avoidable just as all of the earlier litigation and attempts by bishops, other clergy, and congregations to leave the Church. When Bishop Love was ordained deacon, then priest, and consecrated bishop,, he vowed to ” I do solemnly engage to conform to the doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Episcopal Church.’

If he is no longer able to conform to the doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Episcopal Church, he should step down as bishop. It’s really quite simple.

Instead, the Church will expend energy and resources on this internal battle. Should Bishop Love be unhappy with the final result of his appeal and of the disciplinary proceeding’s ultimate outcome, he may choose to pursue his cause in the civil court system as many other bishops and dioceses have done. If he does, it’s likely that more millions of dollars will be expended in the effort.

 

St. Paul’s conflicts and our own: A sermon on Prayer Book Revision for Proper 9B, 2018

The General Convention of the Episcopal Church is gathering in Austin, TX. It takes place every three years, bringing together bishops, lay and clerical deputies from every diocese to oversee the life of our church. It is the ultimate governing authority of the Episcopal Church, so it has the final say over matters of doctrine, governance, and even our worship.

On Friday, the House of Deputies passed a resolution authorizing comprehensive revision of the Book of Common Prayer. Last accomplished in 1979, prayer book revision is always challenging, time-consuming, full of conflict. While the current timeline suggests the completion of the work in a decade or so, it may be that like our conversations and conflicts over the full inclusion of LGBT people in the life of the church, including marriage, will dominate our common life as a denomination for the next decade. It’s worth pointing out that for this process to move forward, the House of Bishops will also have to approve the resolution for prayer book revision.

If you are interested in these matters, I invite you to join me later this morning in the library where I will answer questions and offer opportunity for your reflections. In the meantime, I would like to ask you a few questions:

  • How many of you own a book of common prayer?
  • For those of you who own one, do you know where it is? When was the last time you opened it?

In my experience as an Episcopalian, lay and priest, it’s my sense that we tend to have a great emotional attachment to the book of common prayer as a symbol, and also to the language of the liturgy, but that most of us don’t engage with it in any significant way in our personal spiritual lives or with the theological perspectives offered there. That is to say, we are not “shaped” by its theology and spirituality, as we are intended to be.

The presenting issues for revision are fairly clear. Many of us struggle with the gendered language in the liturgy and in the Psalter, and we also struggle with the patriarchal and hierarchical language. In addition, there are debates about the revising the marriage rite in the BCP to make it inclusive of same gender couples. But once you begin looking at revising the text, certain theological debates will quickly explode—the atonement, for example.

So, we are going to be enmeshed in conversation and most likely conflict in the coming years as we discuss and implement liturgical revision. It’s going to be heated, both on the denominational level, and quite likely, here at Grace, and thinking about how we have those conversations, how disagree with each other, will be an important part of the process.

It’s fortunate, then, that we have before us this reading from Paul’s second letter to the Church at Corinth. For in it he discusses both his own spiritual experience and addresses the deep and bitter conflict in which he has been engaged with this little group of Christians he founded years earlier.

We are coming to the end of a series of selections from this text. I’ve not referred to it in past sermons because, well, it is a complicated text in its theology, in its underlying context, and in its very construction. Most scholars agree that it is a composite text, made up of portions of several letters that Paul wrote to the Corinthian community. They also agree that what we read in this letter is evidence of a deep and painful conflict between Paul and the community in Corinth which he founded. The conflict was personal, having to do with the nature of Paul’s authority and personality.

Today’s reading gets at the heart of that conflict. Part of what was at stake was spiritual experience and the role of spiritual experience in establishing one’s religious authority. The Corinthians, or at least some of them, seemed to believe that unless one had the sort of ecstatic experience that expressed itself speaking in tongues or the like, one had no basis from which to preach the gospel.

This is Paul’s response. It began in the previous chapter with Paul speaking ironically about boasting about his spiritual gifts. Now, he is speaking directly about his own experience. He describes a mystical experience, perhaps even a vision, or a mystical journey to the heavens, where he encountered Jesus Christ and received private revelations. But, he says, no matter how wonderful or powerful that experience was, it isn’t the basis for his proclamation of the gospel or his authority.

He then describes something else, something very different. It’s some sort of physical ailment, a thorn in the flesh, that troubled him for many years. Repeatedly, he prayed for deliverance from this affliction. Instead of healing, he received another message from Jesus Christ, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

If there is any phrase that could encapsulate Paul’s understanding of the gospel, it is this: “power made perfect in weakness.” It is central to his understanding of the cross. Paul writes eloquently about this in 1 Corinthians when he talks about the foolishness of the cross, “For God’s foolishness is s wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”

This understanding, this paradox, is the heart of the good news. We want Jesus to perform deeds of power in our midst, we want our prayers answered, our lives, our world changed by the encounter with the good news of Jesus Christ. We want, yes, we do, we want to get the kind of spiritual high at church that Paul describes. And if those things don’t come, we are disappointed and disheartened.

Like the people of Jesus’ hometown, we want him to do the kinds of things among us that we heard about him doing elsewhere. And when that doesn’t happen, our faith wavers. But the cross reminds us that Jesus’ power and victory are not according to the world’s standards. The cross is foolishness and a scandal, power made perfect in weakness.

We want Jesus to be a superhero, or at least a superstar. Instead, we follow one who carried his cross to Calvary, and stumbled along the way. We want miracles, deliverance, a problem solver, a fix-it man. Instead, we have Jesus, who couldn’t work deeds of power in his own hometown.

So what’s the point, you ask. Precisely that. Scripture, the gospels bear witness to a Jesus, a Messiah, who doesn’t swoop in from outside and fix everything, a Messiah who doesn’t call on legions of angels to rescue him from execution. The gospel, Paul, proclaim a Messiah who is born like we are, frail and needy, and died just as all humans die. In that Messiah, in his incarnation and death, we see God, power made perfect in weakness.

We see a God, born like us, with our flesh and blood, with all that it means. We see a God who knows us in our frailty and humanity, comes to us in our frailty and humanity and says to us, “my grace is sufficient for you.”

Sometimes, we think we know it all. Sometimes, we think our perspective is the right one, the only legitimate one. Certainly, Paul thought that a great deal of the time. But at the heart of this text is a very different experience and understanding—that power is made perfect in weakness; that in Christ’s weakness and suffering, we see God. Paul was trying to say that what mattered most was not education, or background, or intellectual capacity, or ability to debate and score points. What matters most is Christ crucified.

It’s an important, perhaps the most important thing to comprehend as we try to grow more deeply in our Christian faith; but it may also be the most important thing to remember as we engage in conversation and find ourselves in disagreement with our fellow Christians. To be open and vulnerable to them, to recognize, like Paul, that whatever the experience and knowledge we have from Christ, there are things about it we can’t share with others, parts of it we can’t describe or name.

And to bring that openness and vulnerability as we listen to each other, as we hear their experiences, their joy and pain, may help us all of us to grow more deeply in the knowledge and love of God in Jesus Christ. I hope we experience this next season in the life of our congregation and the larger church as an opportunity for growth and building deeper relationships among ourselves and through those experiences to welcome and embrace those who seek to walk with us on this journey.

 

Presiding Bishop Curry (and all the bishops) speak out

There’s an interview in the New York Times with Presiding Bishop Michael Curry of the Episcopal Church:

Q. Do you, as a church leader, as an African-American, feel compelled to say anything about the presidential primaries in which the Republican front-runner hesitated to disavow the support of the former Ku Klux Klan leader David Duke?

A. It’s not appropriate, and I’m not sure it’s even legal, to make a partisan pronouncement on any candidates. But to articulate the values on which we stand. Love, at least as Jesus articulated it, has to do with seeking the good and the welfare of others before one’s own enlightened self-interest. Our politics must reflect that.

Also, the House of Bishops released a joint statement this week on the political climate in our nation:

“We reject the idolatrous notion that we can ensure the safety of some by sacrificing the hopes of others.”

On Good Friday the ruling political forces of the day tortured and executed an innocent man. They sacrificed the weak and the blameless to protect their own status and power. On the third day Jesus was raised from the dead, revealing not only their injustice but also unmasking the lie that might makes right.

Can we finally bury the Anglican Communion?

I’ve not paid attention to matters related to the world-wide Anglican Communion for some years. After the relative disaster of the Lambeth Conference in 2008 and  the apparent collapse of efforts to create a more binding relationship among the provinces by means of the Anglican Covenants, I suspected the Anglican Communion would continue to exist more as an idea than as reality. When Archbishop of Canterbury Welby announced he wasn’t going to convene a Lambeth Conference in 2018, the reality seemed quite dead.

Not so fast. When he made that announcement the ABC also said he was going to convene a Primates’ Meeting–for those unfamiliar with odd and obscure Anglican vocabulary, “Primates” are Archbishops and other heads of provinces; provinces being national, or multi-national branches of the church.

That group is meeting this week in Canterbury, England. There was much speculation in the run-up to its gathering about what might emerge. Tensions over matters related to full inclusion of LGBTQ Christians continue to cause friction. Would Archbishops from the Global South show up? Would they force action against the Episcopal Church over our decision to permit same-sex marriage?

The Primates have spoken. They have asked the Episcopal Church to temporarily withdraw (for three years) from Anglican and ecumenical bodies:

It is our unanimous desire to walk together. However given the seriousness of these matters we formally acknowledge this distance by requiring that for a period of three years The Episcopal Church no longer represent us on ecumenical and interfaith bodies, should not be appointed or elected to an internal standing committee and that while participating in the internal bodies of the Anglican Communion, they will not take part in decision making on any issues pertaining to doctrine or polity.

Presiding Bishop Michael Curry is representing the Episcopal Church at this meeting. Episcopal News Service offers these words from him in response to the Archbishops’ Communique:

“Our commitment to be an inclusive church is not based on a social theory or capitulation to the ways of the culture, but on our belief that the outstretched arms of Jesus on the cross are a sign of the very love of God reaching out to us all. While I understand that many disagree with us, our decision regarding marriage is based on the belief that the words of the Apostle Paul to the Galatians are true for the church today: All who have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male or female, for all are one in Christ.

“For so many who are committed to following Jesus in the way of love and being a church that lives that love, this decision will bring real pain,” he said. “For fellow disciples of Jesus in our church who are gay or lesbian, this will bring more pain. For many who have felt and been rejected by the church because of who they are, for many who have felt and been rejected by families and communities, our church opening itself in love was a sign of hope. And this will add pain on top of pain.”

Pain indeed. Whenever relationships are broken, whenever there is division in the church, there is pain. Archbishop Welby himself reportedly said in an address to the Primates:

We so easily take our divisions as normal, but they are in fact an obscenity, a denial of Christ’s call and equipping of the church. If we exist to point people to Christ, as was done for me, our pointing is deeply damaged by division. Every Lambeth Conference of the 20th century spoke of the wounds in the body of Christ. Yet some say, it does not matter, God sees the truth of spiritual unity and the church globally still grows. Well, it does for the moment, but the world does not see the spiritual church but a divided and wounded body. Jesus said to his disciples, “as the Father sent me so send I you”. That sending is in perfect unity, which is why even at Corinth and at the Council of Jerusalem, we find that truth must be found together rather than show a divided Christ to the world.

Powerful words, but they ring rather hollowly this evening.

The Anglican Communion may not seem like a big deal to many Episcopalians. It may not even seem real. And it may be that the Archbishops’ decision will have little impact. After all, the Episcopal Church is not going to revisit its decision concerning same-sex marriage. Other provinces already recognize and perform same-sex marriages and its likely that others will join that group. I’ve long expected that ultimately the communion would divide internally along such lines, even as the church in the US has with a parallel entity the Anglican Church of North America existing alongside the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Church of Canada. At the same time, it’s important to acknowledge the powerful forces at work in our society that are changing how people relate to institutional churches. As denominations decline and denominational loyalty disappears, what might any of this matter in thirty or fifty years?

Still, there’s an important role for international relationships with Christians in other countries. Through such relationships we are reminded of the universal nature of the church and through such relationships we can cooperate with Christians in other countries in all sorts of ways. Grace’s membership includes people from England, Uganda, Kenya, Liberia, Barbados, and Jamaica. Just this past Sunday an African family recently relocated to Madison from another city in Wisconsin visited Grace. How will our congregation be affected by the Primates’ decision today?

Get to know our new Presiding Bishop

A video introduction made when he was nominated: http://www.generalconvention.org/pbelect/curry

Video of the press conference he held after the election:

Bishop Curry is a powerful preacher. I encourage you to watch some or all of these sermons

From General Convention 2012:

From last year’s gathering of Episcopal Youth (EYE):

He’s published two books recently: Crazy Christians (2013) and Songs my Grandma Sang (2015)