What I have learned these past five years:
Reflections in Advent 2008
by
republished, with permission, from the Anglican Communion Institute,
The last few years of struggle within the Episcopal Church (TEC) and within the Anglican Communion have taken their toll on many persons and congregations, and on our common life in a larger way. Every day brings some new report on the impending or already achieved “break-up” of Anglicanism and on the spectacle of “global schism”, even while Anglican leaders insist that this hasn’t happened yet. Many congregations in the
How does one navigate this time as an Anglican Christian? I have a number of friends and colleagues who have decided simply that it is not possible to do so. For various reasons, they have left Anglicanism altogether – becoming Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox (less common), non-denominational evangelical Christians (often) or finally (most frequently) “church drop-outs” altogether. A common theme among these persons has been a sense of exhaustion and spiritual depletion, even as they have discerned elements of doctrine and ecclesial life that they believe, in different ways, are best embodied in other Christian traditions. The ache of inner ailment has stirred up a theological ferment whose outcome has opened up the press for a new direction altogether.
Some of these friends wonder when the same will happen for me. “You cannot keep it up”, they suggest, noting that the efforts expended in working for Anglicanism’s integral witness in the face of its internal and external weaknesses and conflicts have not garnered renewing results. There have been moments, to be sure, when I have wondered this myself. Yet, in fact, I have grown less and not more anxious over the past year or so; more, and not less hopeful in the usefulness of this work; less, and not more impatient over its eventual fruit. This change has happened, not without pain to be sure; but precisely through the continuing process of seeing some things afresh, of letting go of ill-founded assumptions, of being wrenched from selfishness.
What, then, have I learned? A good bit of it falls within the scope of traditional Advent concerns – attentiveness, penitence, hope, eagerness, waiting, and finally receiving from God. Although what follows could be divided into the more pragmatic and more theological, such a division would be both artificial and probably misleading. Indeed, I have learned most fully that the rubbing up of the spirit against the rude realities of political life, shaped by the limitations of human actors, constitutes in part the very life of the Body of Christ that is the
1. Not getting one’s own way
The most obvious experience I have had in the past 5 years of struggle in TEC and in the Communion is the inescapable realization that I have not had things go the way I have wanted them to go! Through personal writing and engagement in groups like the Anglican Communion Institute, the Network, or in diocesan councils and Communion-related groups, I have, with others, urged this or that course of action for this or that reason, and seen things go a different and often opposite direction. People I have respected have chosen to reject my advice! Arguments I have made, with genuine passion and belief, have been brushed aside. Predictions I have offered based on my sense, not only of human probabilities, but of God’s promises, have proven unfounded.
I think that earlier on in this process my reaction to such experiences, like that of any child, has been not only anger, but also an urge to walk away from the engagement altogether: if I am not listened to, why bother? If my best wisdom is ignored, those who ignore it are obviously not worth my time and engagement. I thought, for instance, that in 2003 the Primates would give a quick lead in taking up some form of ad hoc discipline and applying it to TEC, and that this would be embraced by the bulk of the Communion for obvious reasons. Nothing like this happened, although there was a substantive response, still being played out. And it has taken some time for me to recognize the complications – structurally, politically, theologically, and personally – that inform all of this, as well as the promise within it.
More importantly than the substance of the issue in question, however, I have had to face quite simply the fact that my own views, however carefully constructed and believed in, are not the measure of the church’s life or of anybody else’s. They cannot displace, in time, a whole range of other imperatives to action, relationship, reflection and counsel, witness, and prayer. And once I allow them to do this, I have given way, not to God’s sovereign power and love, but to my own self-regard. I might well ask, “why do the wicked prosper?” and find God staying my heart (cf. Psalm 37); I might remember Paul’s exhortation not to insist on one’s own ways (1 cor. 13:5; Rom. 15:1f.), not for the sake of giving up convictions or of compromise, but simply to give oneself over to God the just judge (1 Pet.2:23); I might also, finally and even better, plead, “I am a worm and no man, have mercy on me” (Ps. 22:6, 19).
2. Parishes are mixed and require building up and non-conflictive teaching, rather than turning congregation into a battle ground.
Recognizing that one’s own way turns out not to be so obvious to lots of other people, even if you think you are faithful and knowledgeable, and sufficiently upstanding so as to be trusted, allows one to accept the even more obvious fact (often ignored in my own self-certainties) that we live, as Christians, in non-uniform communities. Big news!, one might respond. But it is news, when it comes to actual decision-making and comportment within the Church in times of struggle. One thing that conservatives have had to learn, just as much as liberals, is that their parishes, which they thought were all so “orthodox” (according, of course, to one’s own self-image), are made up of people whose views, virtues, and emotions are actually quite varied. One may well believe strongly that TEC’s decisions and discipline are deeply flawed and requiring of rejection and drastic reformation, without believing that the “right thing” is to engage in a fight with the local bishop. One may believe the opposite. Some people are “activists”, some people are steadfast servants in a place. There are manifold variations in how people understand “good strategy” or “demanded witness”. And, even more fundamentally, there are many people in churches of every sort, who in fact are in different places when it comes to interpreting the center of the Gospel and the Scripture’s application.
One thing that has become obvious to me over the past few years is the danger of engaging important matters of the faith within congregations from an immediately adversarial stance, vis a vis other views and the structures of one’s ecclesial life. For this frequently (though not always, to be sure) starts in a place that the mixed character of Christian commitment and understanding is not capable of sustaining. Instead of working towards a coherence of understanding, belief, and commitment, such adversarial foundations assumes a coherence as already existing when it does not, and the conflict one thought necessary to engage outside of one’s community is immediately located within it.
When clergy engage in adversarial preaching as the initial basis of response to Christian conflict, or when congregations take votes about doing x or y, or when vestries are asked to “declare” that their congregations stand for this or that (this is both a liberal and conservative temptation), a solution has been sought that has bypassed the major challenge of teaching, formation, common prayer, and integral witness. Instead, the faith of many – whether they are the weak or the strong! – is scandalized, and if they do not leave immediately, their spirit is weakened and the process of drifting away has inevitably begun
3. The Communion also requires such non-conflictive building up
I think that the same set of dangers hangs over the Anglican Communion as a whole. To claim that there is “no common mind” in the Communion and never has been about anything currently roiling our life is, I believe, a false assertion. I still believe this strongly. But varying ways of exercising courtesy and deferral of self-expression or of dealing openly with disagreements around the world means that it is not always clear what people think or how important this or that is to what they think. Indeed, TEC has significantly failed to understand this, I believe. “Because we were silent you thought we were like you” (Ps. 50:21); these are words that seem to apply too much to our mutual life.
Of course, this reality cuts in many directions, as I have learned: one simply cannot assume in the wider Communion what is going on within the minds and local ecclesial cultures (and politics) of far-flung and even nearby churches. I still believe that one of the main values in entering into an articulated Covenant about certain matters lies in providing some common overlay and foundation above these various and often murky means of understanding across divides.
Add to this the fact that personalities within the Communion are as subject to conflict as in America, and the picture gets even more tricky to sort out: so and so has felt slighted; so and so finds another bishop or Primate rude or self-promoting; my friend’s enemy is my enemy, and my enemy’s friend is my enemy too!; there are competitions for affection and its (sometimes very material) fruit; and on it goes. The fact that things are not said openly, for a host of cultural and personal reasons, makes it difficult often to know exactly what is at stake in a given “decision” or action. Rather than getting clearer about any of this, I have become less and less certain of my abilities to understand these personal dynamics. I have also become more and more skeptical of the claims of others to do so.
I remember Archbishop Kolini of Rwanda telling me, in 2003, and that we should not be too distressed if some of us in America and elsewhere went our separate ways in the brewing conflict: we would be like Paul and Barnabas in Acts 15:39, disagreeing, but surely one day coming back together. This was intended as hopeful comment. Yet there is no evidence that Paul and Barnabas ever saw one another again or ever. Indeed, both of them were martyred, so we are told, in different places and different times – did they die at one in the Lord? The parting of friends is not guarantee of anything except the risking of a trust.
All the more reason, I have become convinced, that we must seek to restrain the scope of conflict within our churches, and not export it to other places. For in doing so, we set loose new lines of potential conflict over which we have little understanding and control. American Anglicanism, both liberal and conservative, has been a poison apple, thrown into the midst of the Communion. While at one time I had hoped that the Communion’s other churches could, as a body, provide the kind of intervention necessary at least to stem or sort out the conflict over sexuality, Bible, and Christology within TEC, I have become less and less convinced that this is possible. Rather, what the Communion needs to do is to create a buffer from our internal American battles. Other churches have much to learn from how we deal with our present conflicts in the
4. Legal complexities
One place where our American battles are indeed completely outside the ken and control of other churches is the legal arena. I was, quite simply, naïve in ever thinking that churches and dioceses could figure things out within TEC without going to the secular courts. And having done so, the spectacle has alienated the faithful and titillated the faithless. One of my greatest disappointments has indeed been this outcome, for which I believe we all bear responsibility. Despite tendentious appeals to the contrary, a Christian simply cannot avoid the devastating judgment of Paul in 1 Corinthians 6 about this. We have failed, as Christians, in ending up in these places. And we are bearing the judgment of this failure, spoken from the lips of our Lord (Mt.
And my own naiveté in all of this is precisely exposed in the face of the question, “What in the world did you think would happen?”. For property ownership in non-profit corporations like churches in the
What we have barely begun to realize (let alone understand), however, is that the kinds of legal challenges faced by adversarial and separating churches in the
5. Tricky relationships between growing global culture and Christian life
This global reality, much spoken about of course around all kinds of issues, is still one I am only vaguely grasping, and the vagueness of that grasp is become more obvious to me as these few years have passed. I have lived and traveled in many places around the world; and I think I can kid myself into thinking I “understand” what this or that non-Western or non-American church is up to and up against. But I have realized more and more that I am at sea on this one, a shifting and perplexingly re-shifting set of social, economic, and cultural pressures and realities that place the Christian churches, and Anglican churches in particular, constantly off-balance in their proclamation and witness.
The debate and conflict over Christian teaching and testimony regarding sexual behavior is only one of many areas where we cannot assume this or that set of folk in this or that set of places are on the same page. There are matters regarding human rights, political pluralism, self-defense, nationalized or privatized economies, credit and debt, educational opportunity, attitudes to hierarchy, gender differentiation and so on that, in some places, are only being articulated even as their form is being dismantled. And as a result, of course, the stakes are constantly being transformed in one church area or another as to what element in the Gospel demands immediate concern and engagement.
Again, I think that our response to this kind of reality does not lie in simply acquiescing to diffuse commitments. Rather, it lies with the hard work that has already begun in ordering Anglican catechism, the Covenant (again!), more open and serious engagement with primary evangelism and mission that is historically and culturally nuanced (Westerners are very superficial about all this), and the reordering and support of theological education around the Communion. These are vitally important things that have taken a back seat, at least communally, to our current conflicts, even though on certain fronts they have been slowly carried forward by faithful servants. Although the current conflict over sexuality cannot be papered over, I think that I may have been too convinced that upon its resolution in
6. We cannot avoid repetition of the past’s mistakes
This is an area where I have always sought to be prudent, looking at previous conflicts within the Church and within Anglicanism for indications of the way forward. My miscalculation, I think, has lain in my hope that we could in fact learn from our past mistakes! To acknowledge, as I now do, that we cannot so learn, however, is not an admission of despair. Rather, it is an embrace of the fact that faithful response to our conflict is not a matter of finding the magic bullet that will avoid the bad examples of the past. Faithful response, instead, is about confronting the sin endemic in our corrupted selves and ecclesial existences. This points us in very different directions than our usual strategic thinking, however well-informed by history. In short, the Christian historian is not after Thucidydes’ wisdom on this score, but rather Jesus’ own facing into the Last Days: you know what will happen, so be prepared, love and endure (Mt. 24:3-13).
7. Not a sudden change and solution
The search for the magic bullet is obviously a temptation we all face. But looking at Paul’s own experience with his churches demonstrates that he could not and did not count on such a solution, but rather faced into a long and difficult struggle. It would be nice, I suppose, if we could turn to the Scriptures and they would tell us “exactly” what we are to do in the face of error, or timidity, or weakness, or malice, or lying. Indeed, we may think we know how it’s all supposed to work Scripturally – Matthew 18, 1 Cor. 5, and so on. But as one looks more carefully at how the churches of Paul and others dealt with these issues, it was a little all over the map. By the time we get to 2 Corinthians, for instance, Paul is simply pleading with the Corinthians to listen to him rather than the “pseudo-apostles” (2Cor. 11), but offering not commandments to do this or that, but rather efforts at demonstrating his greater apostolic credentials. How? By listing his sufferings! (11:23ff.). This is, at the least, a long-term and rather open-ended strategy. What if we tried that among ourselves? Not in order to inflate our victimization, but to share the grace of God who supports our weakness (2 Cor. 12:9f.);
But the point here is that I have had to learn that the “truth” is not self-evident in intra-church conflicts. One can try to move forward by force of the majority, but that is hardly going to work very smoothly, for reasons I have noted above regarding the mixed character of churches themselves, where “majority” power is never recognized as the arbiter of evangelical imperative. We are constantly thrust back on persuasion of one kind or another. And this is hardly a straight-forward matter.
I continue to think, for instance, that Communion discipline is needed and demanded by our common life, not just for TEC’s actions but for others’ reactions. Still, discipline only makes sense if it is enforceable, and that is only the case in a Communion when there is a general agreement as to the terms in question. But “general agreement” is hardly a clear reality in the church, and it cannot be pinned down by definitions and demands after the fact. An Anglican Covenant will help provide such prior focus. Still, even the Covenant will not get “unanimous” approval among our churches. My real hope at this stage is not that some document will be produced that will suddenly clarify all relations and responsibilities, satisfying the insistences of clamoring parties. Rather, I see a general movement towards acceptance that will in fact persuade some churches to say, “we do not think this is for us” – a kind of “consent” in reverse, but also an acknowledgement that there is a general mind that cannot be embraced by all. Time will not only have to be taken to get to this point, but time will need to be given to allow such “consent” to be recognized for what it is.
And in the meantime, ceaseless and tireless persuasion and witness. Yes, individuals and groups will try this and that. But to confuse such experiments of response with lines in the sand, I am coming to see, is grossly to misconstrue the nature of Christian decision-making.
8. No one person or group is capable of such solution
And, of course, letting drop the magic bullet approach means getting away from the savior complexes we all tend to assume as Christian leaders and followers. We have one Savior only, and his Way is not a way, as He repeatedly tells us, that we would ever wish to follow of our own unredeemed wills. “Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” (Jn. 14:5). But, the revelation that Jesus Himself is the way (14:5) is also bound to the more uneasy fact that “where I am, there will my servant be” (Jn.
I admit that I had hopes for the Archbishop of Canterbury “stepping up to the plate” as we like to say; or for the Primates; or for the Windsor Bishops; or for the Network; or for my own colleagues;… or for myself. But at every turn, things have proven more knotted than we presumed. And the shape of our responses to these problems has proven inadequate to the profound and penetrating discipleship that our Lord has outlined – amid much dispute – in something like the Sermon on the Mount. For us to hear Him say, “what is impossible for human beings is possible for God” (Mk.
I feel more and more driven to take hold of my Lord’s words: “now when these things begin to take place, look up and raise your heads…” (Lk.
9. Not defending the integrity of adversaries or remaining silent in the face of indefensible behavior by allies
I am learning – but only just, and hardly completely – that I am called and enabled to be free from the kinds of loyalties and allegiances, therefore, that require me to “align” myself with anything but what testifies to Jesus’ own heart. The parties and movements within the church that have arisen over the past years are not worthless or evil, and they will no doubt continue to evolve and testify to truths that require their ongoing activity. But I have seen now too much adherence to party-spirit to the detriment of honesty and charity, to feel always comfortable in this inevitable set of dynamics. I have myself failed in rebuking the dishonesty or insult of my friends and allies; I have been too often constrained by a sense of not letting “down the side” that I have let pass failures of witness; I have allowed criticism to be partisan rather than just. No doubt others have treated me with the same ill-advised reticence.
It has taken time to realize the degree to which a struggle can blind us to our own and our colleagues’ profound failures. This is not the place to enumerate these failures and my own complicity. But the wreckage of friendships and respect lies around us in testimony against us. It is too easy to blame blogs for this kind of spiraling contamination of open and tacit spite, since what we see on the blogs is only what is held in the heart, and what is “said in secret” is indeed “being shouted from the rooftops” (Lk. 12:3). What comes out of the heart are “evil thoughts, fornication, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, foolishness”, and there it is for all to see (Mk. 7:21) But the general anonymity of the blogs, as well as their reactive energies, do nothing but stoke interior habits of resentment and mob mentalities. Not to mention the clearly misplaced notion that all our own opinions are worth sharing with the world! To be sure, the blogs are full of apologies as well. But apologies that are thrown around in multitude are evidence, not of a reformed heart, but of an undisciplined and perhaps inauthentic one that has made repeated excuses necessary in the first place. And nothing is more inauthentic than high-minded vitriole.
In short, I am learning that the struggle has seduced my spirit too easily into friendship with the world. True friends seek the glory of God in each other’s lives.
10. Avoid spiritual malice
Avoiding spiritual malice is not easy, of course. I know of many of who have simply left Anglicanism altogether, not out of apathy, but out of a keen sense that their souls were in danger, not from heresy or schism, but from the anger welling up in their own hearts in the midst of heresy and schism. This, of course, would not be the first time Christians have fled their brothers and sisters in the faith in order to protect their faith. The 17th and 18th-centuries in
I find that the spiritual discipline of the moment is leading more and more firmly away from the adversarial struggle of the ecclesial arena – although that is inevitable – and more and more into the struggle for my own heart, for the fruit of the Spirit that Paul promises to those who have been freed from the demands of the slave-driver (Gal. 5:22f.). Surely this is true for all of us, to some degree: we, who have rushed to hear the Baptist decry our enemies, are suddenly confronted with the direct question, “who told you to flee from the wrath to come?” (Lk. 3:7), as if we could escape the squalor of our own far-country servitude (Luke
11. Israel
So, I am adjusting my time-table. Not because it is good for the truth to be contested and torn apart; not because the Church’s disarray in teaching is itself a virtue of humility; not because there is no place to move that is better than where we are. But simply because I have come to be confronted with my own incapacity – and others’! – to be faithful. The cock keeps crowing. Whether or not this is how it “must be”, it is certainly how it is. Whether one is Luther or Erasmus or John Eck in the 16th-century, things do not seem to work out for us as we planned. So we turn to God, and to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, whose coming was long awaited and whose passage here in this world was misapprehended, and whose resurrection was unanticipated, and whose Return will, even in most readied stances, sill take us by surprise.
What I seek to do – through God’s mercy and grace — is to retain the faith, hope, and love that will permit constancy in testimony, perseverance in learning, willingness in encounter, and the wisdom through such persistence to persuade in trust and service. The great gifts of Anglicanism have always turned in this direction – for we were ever sinful, were we not? — so that our mission has triumphed over our internal tensions. There are among us those who understand this better than I. It is time, without throwing away our trust, to turn to them as our future pastors and martyrs.
I pray, in this regard, to be relatively consistent in my hopes with years past. In the last 12 months I have seen evidence of remarkable missionary work by Anglicans in the face of tremendous non-Christian and anti-Christian forces, from
The Revd Prof Ephraim Radner is Professor of Historical Theology at
The Revd Prof Ephraim Radner is Professor of Historical Theology at Wycliffe College, Toronto and senior fellow of the Anglican Communion Institute, Inc.