The Breakaways in South Carolina are Offered a Gift

The thing that has always bugged me, ever since January of 2013, when the breakaway group of parishes in what was the Episcopal Diocese of South Carolina sued the remaining parishes of the Diocese, is the absolute non-necessity of it all. Literally millions of dollars in legal fees, and for what? Now that hearings, trials and appeals have nearly finished wending their way through state and federal courtrooms, a "Christian moment" finally comes to light. Over a year and a half ago at a gathering of the clergy of the continuing Diocese (loyal to the Episcopal Church) this idea was broached: "Why don't we grant to all the breakaway parishes their property?" That sentiment was immediately followed by: "We are only interested in what's rightfully ours; I.E., the intellectual, financial and real assets of the Diocese." (Actually, work on this offer was begun by our chancellor  the day we were sued by the breakaways.)

This resonated quite positively with most, if not all, in the room. One priest exclaimed, "How reconciling this is! It's the Christian thing to do!" The Presiding Bishop was contacted, and her response was positive, with the caveat that she would be interested as long as ALL the breakaway parishes were included. Ironically, while this was the attitude and desire of our Presiding Bishop, our Diocesan Bishop, our Chancellor, diocesan officials and rank-and-file clergy, the breakaways continued with their rhetoric that "'They (the National Church, aka, dreaded 'TEC') are coming after our property!" So rectors and vestries of most of the breakaway parishes retained their own attorneys so that there was scarcely enough room in Judge Goodstein's courtroom last summer to contain the 40-plus lawyers that represented them all. And more ironically, the only thing that actually put these parish properties at risk was their joining in the lawsuit of the breakaway former diocese.

More recently, as a member of the Standing Committee of the continuing diocese, I joined brother and sister members in unanimously approving this offer. On the 2nd day of this month (June 2015), the attorneys of the breakaway parishes were sent written notice of this offer--this offer which has been in the works for over two years. My brother colleagues on the other side could be off the hook. They would no longer have to lie awake at night wondering where they would go and what they would do, and who would go with them, if a higher court overturned THEIR lawsuit which put THEIR parishes on the line.

St. Michael's, St. Philip's, St. Helena's, Holy Cross, St. Luke's, St. James, St. John's, Prince George...the list goes on. The rectors of these parishes are, owing to Mark Lawrence's decision to leave the Episcopal Church, no longer episcopal priests. But the way back, should any of them choose to take it, remains open to them because Bishop vonRosenberg chose to remove, rather than to depose them. This was an extraordinarily conciliatory move that underscores our hope of reconciliation.

And now, the Episcopal Church is preparing to elect a new Presiding Bishop. Bishop Katherine, their "whipping girl", will soon be out of office, and a new leader from among fine candidates will take the reins. Whence the acrimony then?

I am a native son of this state and diocese. Ever since, many years ago, my mental and spiritual fog lifted and I remembered that we are to love all and welcome all in Jesus' name, I have hoped for the church in general to generate a better witness than judgment, infighting and lawsuits. I can't imagine a better place to start than, even in the face of those who would question our motives, giving such a gift as we are offering.

Christopher Huff +

Why I Stayed (in TEC), Part X: The Fund of Ignorance

Please linger with me for a bit on these words. My comments are below:

An attitude of unconditional hospitality is always a religious experience, because it puts us in a position to transcend our limits and share in the creative caring of God. People are always limited, so this encounter is also a painful revelation of our limitations. We come up against frontiers, and not only language barriers but also irreconcilable incompatibilities.

Neverthless we must always reach out to the other afresh, exposing ourselves to the unknown with the conviction that the God of the Exodus accompanies us through these difficult exchanges. The shock of meeting undeniable experiences of the Absolute, which are not yet possible to assimilate into our own experience, considerably broadens our religious understanding.  God is greater than our hearts (I John 3:20), and much greater than our theology. The little we know of God is based on a far wider fund of ignorance. So long as we remain in our traditional universe we can be unaware of this. But when we leave it, when we witness altogether different approaches to the Absolute, we can better appreciate how far God is beyond us and our contemplation acquires a much wider field.

--Pierre Francois de Bethune, Order of St. Benedict,
   former Secretary General of all regions of the Monastic Interreligious Dialogue
   from 1992-2007. He is a member of the St. Andre de Clerland Monastery in Belgium

Several  phrases stand out:

"unconditional hospitality" -the implications, if we are to take seriously the word "unconditional", are so stretching, so category-busting,  so challenging that to be deeply honest before them we must admit our feeble limitations. These words echo "if anyone compels you to go one mile, go with him two."  (Matthew 5:41) Actually to allow yourself to be compelled by one who does not share with you much obvious common ground is to be Jesus Himself. In order to live like this, there can be no room for enemies at all. This is radical and, of course, unpopular. As I said in my post number IX, we would rather seek common ground, huddle together, and exclude.

"irreconcilable incompatibilities"- again, strong words. In our culture, when we hear the word "irreconcilable", most often a divorce is involved. Separation, divorce, division of property...too often a reaction designed to restore happiness, but to whom? The self? "It is because of the hardness of your hearts that Moses granted a certificate of divorce."  (Mark 10:5) I'm tired of people accusing the church of pandering to the culture. Could it not be said that many of those who say this are actually pandering to themselves? Who is being made "happy" when we divide? Let's let God 1) hold us together, 2) correct us whenever we DO pander to anyone but Him and 3) teach us how to work out any "irreconcilable incompatibilities" in our own house first. Then we can take our show on the road legitimately.

"fund of ignorance"- God's thoughts and ways are infinitely vast and incomprehensible. By comparison, all our knowledge and wisdom combined add to little more than a "fund of ignorance". Let's be kind to ourselves and call it ignorance, and not willful malice, that causes us to presume to know better than He when we decide to ignore His prayer that we be one.

Fr. Pierre Francois was writing concerning interreligious dialogue; i. e., holding graceful conversations and taking relational risks with those who are religious, but not Christian, with those who do not subscribe to our theology or to our scriptures or to our Trinitarian God. We come woefully short of doing this among ourselves. We must learn that true godliness is not found in division. Division is the devil's desire for us.

I call on all who will listen to come back to the table. But those who have left have said they have "moved on".  I am now left with having to give them up to God. No one can make them come back. And now we must rely on Him who restores broken people and broken things. As always, it is beyond us. But still...."Let's talk."

In Genesis, the people were thrown into confusion by a division of language and eventually a scattering of culture and geography. The Bible tells us it was because of hubris, in humanity's wanting to attain the lofty stature of God.  In Acts 2:6, at the sound of the mighty, rushing wind of the Spirit, the people were drawn back together in bewilderment (out of their confusion) and, in a reversal of the Babel fraction, each one heard them speaking in their own language.

Come once again, Holy Spirit, and heal our sad divisions.

This concludes the series "Why I Stayed". My next project is entitled "Connecting the Dots".

Why I Stayed (in TEC), Part IX: "The Dignity of Every Human Being" (Section b)

This is the ninth installment in a series of reflections on why I decided to stay with the Episcopal Church (TEC) rather than leave with the rest of the Diocese of South Carolina, which has disassociated from TEC as of November, 2012. Some are calling it an exodus; some are calling it schism; many are confused; the world doesn't care; many are wounded; some have lost their livelihood; the church's witness has been damaged; the Holy Spirit grieves. So it's worth talking about.

"The Dignity of Every Human Being" (Section b)

The Litany from Tuesday Lauds in the Benedictine Breviary contains this line: "Help us discern the hidden ways of love, that we may build a visible community of peace." R. "Lord, help your people." 

The first time I saw this prayer, it struck deep into my heart, bringing at once conviction, hope and a change in focus. It brought conviction, because I had not been concerning myself so much with God's "hidden ways" of love, but instead with the black and white of who is "with" God and who is "against" God. Those categories were the guide of my life. I would stick people either in the "with" pigeon hole or the "against" pigeon hole. And I, depending on which of these holes into which I put them, decided by that criterion whether or not I would hear anything that they had to say. Before the first word ever came out of their mouths, I had made my decision. And that, by the nature of the act, can rob a person of his or her dignity. It does not deem the person worthy of being heard on the most basic level,  i.e., for being a human with a story and an opinion and a perspective.

"Help us to discern the hidden ways of love, that we may build a visible community of peace."

Too often, we try to do this in reverse: we say "Help us build a visible community of peace, so that we may discern the hidden ways of love." We try to build community by seeking common ground first, instead of living in the "hidden ways of love", and finding graceful, merciful community out of that. It is not the way Jesus did it. He didn't go around seeking common ground through shared belief or purity or even culture. He loved --and sought and teased out love from-- everyone, including the sinner, the outcast, the sick, the poor, the non-jew. And He built His community of peace on that foundation.

Here' an example of our tendency to do this. Once I was interviewing a young man to head up a Gen-X outreach ministry. I asked him to tell me about some of his previous evangelism efforts involving people of this age group. This is what he told me. "Well, where I live we have a Friday night ministry with young adults from several churches who gather just to have fun and fellowship. It is a safe place away from the world for us all to meet as an alternative to the local bar scene." I said, "That's nice. Now tell me about some of your evangelism efforts involving people of this age group." He looked at me funny. I said, "What you described to me just now is not evangelism. That's called cloistering. Church members withdrawing from the world to find refuge." There's nothing wrong with providing young adults with an alternative to the bar scene. The problem was in confusing  an "us against the pagan-world" strategy with evangelism. How can you build a growing community of peace if you are afraid to go out onto the turf of the culture and seek and promote the "hidden ways of love" like Jesus did? How can you bring Jesus to the world if your primary method of relating to it is to take pot shots at it from behind your protective wall?

One of the most damaging and love-less postures that the church can take is the fear-based "we vs. they" approach. And we, being members of the very culture we claim to eschew and to love at the same time, tend to do this in all facets of life.

You know what I'm talking about. Ohio St. vs. Michigan, South Carolina vs. Clemson (that's a joke). But more seriously, Rebel vs. Yankee, Republican vs. Democrat, Liberal vs. Conservative, are all  derivations of we/they, good/bad, who's in/who's out thinking. If you are one, and someone is the other, you already discount, if not mentally erase, whatever they have to say, because they are "suspect", by reason of the cause for which they stand, and not for who they are as God's created beings. All of these prejudices have an origin; however, many people can't remember what those origins are. "I don't remember how it came to be. I just know that I'm  not supposed to trust you." It takes takes repentance and courage to break out of this pattern. And repentance brings hope for a better way..

Frank Page, President of the Southern Baptist Convention's Executive Committee, wrote concerning the Convention's growing split and distrust between calvinists and non-calvinists in the denomination: “The truth is, I see an anti-Calvinism now that frightens me; it’s a vitriol that is nasty,” he said, adding he also has friends who were concerned about “extreme Calvinists.” “So it was my opinion that we need to deal with this. … Trust is hitting a new low.” --in a report by Adelle Banks of Religion News Service and posted by the Huffington Post

The articles continues: “The Lord called us to be one,” said Steve Lemke, provost of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary and co-author of a book critiquing Calvinism. “It’s his desire that we be one — one in spirit and mind, one in Christ. He didn’t say we have to be one in theology (emphasis mine) or one in worship style.”

I find it sadly ironic that the very denomination that put the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral out there in 1886 (worth looking up on page 876 of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer), and never had any takers until the Evangelical Lutherans took the bait 11 years ago, is now so markedly splintering. We Episcopal priests  can celebrate at the altar of any Evangelical Lutheran Church, and vice-versa, although I certainly cannot now celebrate, as an Episcopal Priest, at many of the "Anglican" altars to which I had free access until a few months ago. What's wrong with this picture? Is that a theology-first, or a love-first situation?

I pray that the Southern Baptists will so yield themselves to one another in love that they can show us Anglicans who we used to be. 

It can be one very major problem indeed, when the church sets itself up as over against the world (except in obvious despotic situations where humanity is oppressed, and the church needs to be a corrective voice). It is another problem entirely when the church divides and sets brother against brother, over matters of interpretation. Too often we fail to respect the dignity of every human being when first we judge their theology and use that as the criterion with which we determine our willingness to associate. 

There are many questions to be pondered these days  in loving, respectful conversation if the "church" can have any hope of reconciling with herself, much less with God. Love must trump theology, if there is to be a coming together, rather than a purifying reaction and a perpetual splitting. 

"Help us to discern the hidden ways of love, that we might build a community of peace."

"Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?"

Answer: "I will with God's help."

Why I Stayed (in TEC), Part VIII: The Dignity of Every Human Being (Section a)

This is the eighth installment in a series of reflections on why I decided to stay with the Episcopal Church (TEC) rather than leave with rest of the Diocese of South Carolina, which has disassociated from TEC as of November, 2012. Some are calling it an exodus; some are calling it schism; many are confused; the world doesn't care; many are wounded; some have lost their livelihood; the church's witness has been damaged. So it's worth talking about. It also has to be broken out into two sections, so Part IX will be "The Dignity of every Human Being" (Section b)

"The Dignity of Every Human Being" (Section a)

Of course you recognize these words as coming from our Baptismal Covenant in the Book of Common Prayer: Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? I used to think, way down deep in my heart somewhere, that striving for justice and peace among all people is an unrealistic, pollyanna  hippie dream, ever proven futile by the fact that our country has gone to war roughly every 30 years. While I know that striving and praying for it are basic vows of every Christian, I still believe that the dream is not achievable in this world. We ARE fallen beings, after all. True utopia has proven so far to be a human impossibility. But that does not mean that we don't continually strive for justice and peace among all people. Failure to strive for this yields disastrous results. As my colleague Rick Luoni, Rector of St. George's, always says, "We are sick individuals, man." What he means by that is that people (and he is careful to include himself in this, as am I) are more often blind to themselves, ego-driven, quick to judge, quick to hate, slow to love, slow to forgive, twisted in their motives, and that they like to cover themselves with a micron-thick religious veneer with which they mask un-dealt-with issues and unattended sorrows. They project these things onto others and then seek to punish them for it. This latest 'Ecclesiastical War", in my opinion, is more a result of people jumping to battle mode without first doing their inner work than it is about seeking justice and peace among all people. If you fail to strive for justice and peace (regardless of how hopeless the prospects may seem), you will be too quick to cry foul, circle the wagons, vilify the "enemy" and wish ill upon otherwise good people. This distracts you from  the prime directive and severely inhibits your Christian witness. I know this from experience. Until I stopped and took the time to DO my inner work rather than merely TALK about it, I did not see that my ego wanted to "win", rather than to trust, to "be right", rather than to submit, to "arrogate" unto myself, rather than to be humble.

So now let's address the property disputes in terms of "economic justice". Economic justice has to do with the exploitation of the weak by the powerful. This, unfortunately, has a great deal to do with those who found themselves with no choice in the matter of disassociation. Economic pressure has been brought by the few and powerful in this forced disassociation, with little regard for the consequences upon the weaker among us. There are some clergy who have lost their jobs because of this division. There are others who saw the handwriting on the wall and left the diocese before the disassociation occurred. There are many parishes that have been deeply diminished. The fact that so much of our dispute spins around property (and lots of it) is one factor that makes our sad division such a scandal in the eyes of the world. Any individual, even entire congregations of individuals, can leave the denomination for any reason they like without repercussion. But in this case, these same congregants are determined to take the property with them as they leave. This is not unprecedented, but that does not justify the hubris, and so it does not go unchallenged by the larger Body.  And the litigation and the rancor and the rationalizations and the justifications and the propaganda and the spin that are used to justify such a move are brought to bear like so many cannon to the gunwhales. I say this as a former mate on the Good Ship "Diocese of SC". But I am quick to add that my designation as "former mate" does not now mean that I command a cannon from the "dreaded" Mother Ship. I feel as though I am on a lifeboat with the loyal few that has been set adrift to fend for ourselves because we refused to bear arms in what for us is a mutiny.

So I say, if you do not want to forfeit the buildings in which you worship, stay at the table and work it out.

But please don't tell me that this is about ideology. I and 35 families left a beautiful piece of property and took up residence in a dilapidated movie theater on the backside of an old mall with dumpsters at every entrance because we believed so much in our "cause".. We did this with the bishop's blessing and at his behest. I am not happy that those remaining at the original church were not willing to work with us, but as for us, I'm pretty sure we never resolved our "holier-than-thou, we're-on-a-more-godly-mission-than-you" pridefulness, either. But at least we were willing, as individuals who left the congregation, to leave the keys on the desk as we departed. We knew we couldn't just kick out those who disagreed with our vision and set them adrift without their buildings. Whether or not we were right to leave, God will judge. In retrospect, I wish we had worked it out. Perhaps I should have resigned. I've done that before, too...at tremendous personal cost. So having been through all this before, I think I am qualified to speak about the cost, about leaving, and property, and "righteousness", and the Body of Christ, and unity, and freedom from "oppression", and all those things. "If it be possible, as much as it lieth in you, live peaceably with all men." Romans 12:18 (KJV) I believe we leave too much of "peaceably" on the table, before we jump to "it's not possible".     

This is what the sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel says: "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.You said, 'No, we will flee on horses.' Therefore you will flee! You said, 'We will ride off on swift horses.' Therefore your pursuers will be swift! A thousand will flee at the threat of one; at the threat of five you will all flee away, til you are left like a flagstaff on a mountaintop, like a banner on a hill." Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; He rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him!"  Isaiah 30:15-18 (NIV)

Next Installment: "The Dignity of Every Human Being" (Section b)

Why I Stayed (in TEC), Part VII...What Finally Tore it for Me

When I say what finallly  "tore it for me", you might get the image of my throwing up my hands in disgust and saying, "That's it. I quit!" Au contraire. In my opinion, this is something that diocesan leaders did. And at first I was  not even aware that this tearing had occurred.  See, what "tore it" for me is that the fabric of my fellowship was torn by someone else without my knowledge or consent, and now I am bereft of my garment as it once was. I am knitting new relationships now with some new, as well as some remaining, Christian brothers and sisters, thanks be to  God. But let me say again; I didn't tear it. It was torn FROM me.

There was this shocking day in October of 2012 at a hastily-called clergy gathering in Summerville when I and all my clergy "buds" were informed by our bishop that we "are no longer Episcopal priests, because there was a resolution  passed by the diocesan Standing Committee (a month or so prior) that would automatically disassociate the diocese from the Episcopal Church in the event of any disciplinary  action being taken against me (the bishop)". Just days prior to this, I had been ecstatic to surmise that my bishop might be in negotiations with the Presiding Bishop, with the assisting mediation of the bishop of Upper South Carolina, to see if there might be a way for South Carolina to remain in TEC and yet be recognized as a legitimate, conservative voice in the wider church ( a moot point, really,  because bishops, dioceses and clergy were given a pass of conscience and discretion re: GC2013 sexuality resolutions).

"This is the Christ-like way," I thought to myself. No need for "war", litigation and schism, after all. A creative, God-ordained carving out of a safe place. A building of trust. Something, I dared to  hope, that could be held out to the world as a more excellent way.  The bishop had gone away during the summer to discern the Lord's will in these matters (GC2013 resolutions on same sex unions and gender equailty). He came back and stated that he had heard nothing definitive either way from God. That's usally a time to hold fast. But no. During talks between our bishop and the Presiding Bishop, it came out that the disciplinary board for bishops had found our bishop liable to the charge of abandonment based on the fact that he and the Standing Committee had issued quit-claim deeds to every parish in the diocese. Those charges were brought by clergy from within our own diocese who were concerned that the diocese and its property  was being systematically removed from the national church. Precipitous on both sides.

Nevertheless,  possible further negotiations between the Presiding Bishop and the Diocesan Bishop, as well as the weighing in of the entire House of Bishops on the matter of the Disciplinary action, were still on schedule to happen. The truth is, leaders in our diocese (and I'm not necessarily talking about the bishop here, since he was under ENORMOUS pressure from some of these leaders as well as other  leaders of  congregations to lead the diocese  out  of TEC) already considered themselves to be out of fellowship with TEC ideologically and theologically, and the disassociation resolution was the blasting cap that set off the whole stick of dynamite that blew the bridge.

Trouble is, no one except the Standing Committee, Board of Directors and the bishop knew that this resolution had been passed. On that day at the clergy meeting, as the initial facts began to emerge, I felt as though someone had planted a bomb with  a trip-wire under my house and then had forgotten to tell me about it--until it was too late.

We were informed that day that we and our congregations had one month to decide whether or not to "stay" with the departing diocese or to "re-affiliate" with TEC. Then it was pointed out that, as far as TEC was concerned, the question was more that we had to decide whether or not to "stay" with TEC or "disaffiliate" from TEC by going with the now former diocese. When the bishop was asked which it really was, his response was, "You have to look at this as two parallel universes." At that, I felt lost.

I ran into a lay leader of another congregation a week or two later. He shook my hand and asked, "Well, are ye fer us or agin' us?" I said, "I'm for everybody. If there were people  so hell bent on leaving TEC en masse like this, maybe our bishop should have resigned." He replied, "We would never be able to find another bishop!" I said, "Really?" He replied, "Not one who thinks like us." I said, "You don't think that in all of TEC there is one clergyman who could make a fine bishop for us?" He said, "Look at the House of Bishops. There's not a Christian among 'em!" I said, "Well I can assure you that if I stay in TEC, there will always be a Christian priest in it." He looked at me and said, "I will pray for you." This was one person, but I have had this same line of thinking repeated to me by many of my colleaugues. There is no trust, no perceived basis for common ground, indeed  little if any, feeling that there is a shared faith between people in TEC and people in the breakaway dioceses. But to the contrary I know many, many clergy in TEC who preach a beautiful Gospel and who I believe are my Christian brothers and sisters in every way.

This thought of little shared faith is insinuated in "Stewardship of the Gospel-Stewardship of the Diocese", the diocese's official position paper defending its basis for a lawsuit against TEC. In section II, the rationale for filing a lawsuit against a believer (in consideration of Paul's injunction against it in I Co. 6:1-8), it says, "This passage assumes a core and basic brotherhood (6:6). Paul is appealing to the fact that these unnamed adversaries (in Corinth) are standing around the same fireplace which warms but also consumes in its fire all sin and self-gain." After a sentence or two it continues, "...They share the same Lord- commonly understood in His claims in the truth and claims in His reality. Just how apparent is this in our situation?" Am I to understand, then, that some (at the very least those who wrote this paper, as well as those who signed off on it) believe that we in TEC do not "share the same Lord."? I know the Lord whom I serve, and with great sacrifice, as well as  deep blessing. He is their Lord, as well. I did not rend this fabric. It was torn FROM me by someone else.

I have felt the imposed split within our own congregation.  Before, we were a happy, burgeoning family of folk who were having real encounters with the living Lord Jesus. But when the rending of our family fabric was imposed upon us by outside forces,  and we were forced to choose an arbitrary loyalty, the "children" were for a time thrown into disarray. The Corinthian problem had been injected into our midst: "I belong to Paul, or I belong to Apollos, or I belong to Cephas, or I belong to Christ." This is the very same divisive spirit that Paul sought to eradicate from the Corinthian church. We asked our people along with Paul, "Is Christ divided?" Thank goodness that only a small handful of people chose to leave our fellowship over this. I grieve the loss of their fellowship among  us.

Indulge me another anaolgy. It is as if we were standing in a broad field where people mingled and fellowshiped freely. Then someone came along and erected a fence. Some were suddenly on one side or the  other without having moved an inch. You might have liked where you were, and you may have moved about freely enjoying a broad range of fellowship opportunities as you wandered through the field. But now you are cut off. You no longer have access to the whole field. Your experience of the gifts of others is now limited. You can only use a part of it now. Most did  not ask for the fence. But it is there, nonetheless. This limiting act is  a human, and not a godly arbitration, in my opinion.

Our congregation is once again moving ahead in mission and ministry with  Jesus at the head. Our leadership decided to remain where we have always been since the beginning--in the Episcopal Church. The fabric has been torn, but we are knitting a new garment with those who remained and with those who continue to join us in our work.

Other congregations on  both sides of this "fence" are also moving on in their own mission and ministry. I wish them well, and I pray for them daily. I just wish that we were still doing it together. I wish we were still sharing our gifts. I still believe that none of this had to happen.

Next Installment: The Dignity of Every Human Being

Why I Stayed (in TEC), Part VI

In the last installment I elaborated on my re-embracing of contemplative spirituality, especially Benedictine, but also Celtic, Franciscan, Dominican, Eastern Orthodox, Desert Spirituality and even Jesuit (!) I say "Jesuit" like that because I remember joking around in seminary (my very evangelical seminary) with a classmate and saying that I was doing a paper on Ignatius. He said, "Of Antioch, right?" And I said, just to mess with him, "No, Loyola" (the counter-reformation mystic and founder of the Jesuits). He clutched his chest in mock horror as he said, "God forbid!" Ironically, it was a baptist evangelical who re-awakened me to the Ancient Path of contemplative spirituality. Peter Scazzero, author of Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, writes of the disservice that many churches, especially evangelical ones, do to congregants by unwittingly withholding knowledge of healthy ancient practices such as lectio divina, meditation and contemplation, St. Benedict's Ladder of Humility, the Prayer of Examen, etc. In large part, these things have simply not been on the Evangelicals' radar screen. I wonder how many cursillistas would be surprised to realize that the Cursillo movement is chock full of elements of Ignatius of Loyola's 30-day Spiritual Retreat!

But I digress. I promised a look at Jesus' High-Priestly Prayer, as it is called, in John Chapter 17.
Jesus prayed...
20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me." 
And earlier on the same night he said to his disciples...
34 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13)

The importance of being "one" and "loving one another as I have loved you", i.e. sacrificially, bearing injustice and even laying aside personal "rights" cannot be over-stressed. As the world watches us tear at one another over doctrine and belief, particularly with regard to who's "in" and who's "out", it remains terribly unconvinced of our message of Love, Grace and Good News. And I don't care who started it, either. All I can manage is myself, and I refuse to take part in any more splitting, tearing, separating, leaving or dividing.

Many words have been used in vain to describe completely the Holy Trinity. Every analogy that we try to use for it turns out to be some form of heresy: modalism, adoptionism or arianism. So, how can the three Persons of the Trinity be distinct and yet One? The simpler answer has a lot to do with Love. Mutual submission to one another in love is how three Persons can be most one. And if that's who created us, and we are created in His image, are we not also, then, to be mutually submitted to one another in love? But each time we divide, especially because we forget that we are to be God's followers, not His defenders, we hack at His body, like Peter hacked at Malchus' ear.

Teenagers don't like to hear, when asking permission of their Mom, "What did your Father say?" It is a united, impenetrable front, built on love and mutual submission. It is a foundation that will be appreciated later, after the teen has grown up. "If you've spoken to Mom, you've spoken to Dad" sounds a lot like Jesus saying, "If you've seen me you've seen the Father." Even if Jesus did have a mind of His own, He speaks only what the Father says. It was a conscious, voluntary act of trust, love and submission. We are not modeling that in the church very well. Divorce might sometimes bring relief to Mom and Dad, but the damage done to the kids can be incalculable.

I used to belong to a quite active deanery group. Many of my colleagues in that group and I go back a long way (with some of them over 25 years), share a lively devotion to Jesus, and have supported one another through much trial and challenge, both professionally and personally. But because I did not choose to leave with them, but chose instead to remain affiliated with the Episcopal Church, I am no longer invited to this group. Oh we can stay in contact through facebook, or extra-denominational events, etc., but the regular meeting together with these men and women is no more for me. This is because of something that none of us in that group did. A separation and a decision and a division was imposed upon us. I wonder whether those in the former Diocese who pushed this on us ever considered consequences like this. And if they did consider these consequences, then I must seek forgiveness in my heart toward them for the damage caused to such precious relationships.

So when someone suggests that we purify the faith by leaving the Episcopal Church (a sad part of our heritage, by the way), I see it as a counter-productive and, I would dare say, an ego-driven strategy. It leaves no possibility for modeling grace. It short-circuits the possibilities for reconciliation. It fosters division. And what's worse, it is a scandal on the less-learned, worse than the "perverted doctrine(s)" we would hope to clarify, for by doing so we are modeling for them a culture of  disdain, hatred and finger-pointing, precisely opposite of what Jesus commanded us.

At the end of the day, let it be said of me that I kept the vow that I made to the Body, cost what it may.

Next installment....What Finally Tore it for Me.

Why I Stayed, Part V

I am sometimes asked by clergy friends, "How can you remain in an institution whose leader is not as convinced of the uniqueness of Christ as THE Way, THE Truth and THE life and who is THE ONLY way to the Father, as we are?" Embedded in this question is an assumption, specifically, that said "leader" is not a disciple of the same God we follow. I heard a prominent rector once say in a public forum to the Presiding Bishop, "After hearing what you've said here today, I have to conclude that you and I ascribe to two different religions," to which she responded, "I am struck by the inability to communicate, and I must say that makes me very sad." The first part of this clergy dialogue from that day in 2008 can be seen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRjDnlNI1Qo Subsequent sections of the day's dialogue are also available within this link. The exchange that I mentioned above can be found in Part 13. I went back and looked at a more recent video where she has allegedly proffered a weak christology. What she said was that God made some promises to people of an older covenant in the Old Testament that He has not broken, namely, the Jews, as well as the Muslims (Hagar and Ishmael). She also said that these of the "other covenants" do not "CONSCIOUSLY" look to Christ. "CONSCIOUSLY" is a key word here, because implied is that they (of the other covenants) will, through God's grace, wind up at the feet of Christ, to hear Him say, "It was I for whom you were reaching all along." She looks at the Christ-likeness of people like Gandhi ("I love your Christ, I'm wary of your Christians"), Thich Hat Nhan (Merton's friend), and the Dalai Lama. She sees the fruit of their peaceful, contemplative, spiritual lives. And she leaves the final question of their eternity in God's hands. Then she says that as for them, she believes that God has room for them in His grace. And that as for her she has to try to be the best Christian that she can be.  And then it hit me. "She's a contemplative." Contemplatives are looked at with suspicion by some evangelicals because contemplatives leave a lot of room for contradictions. They tend to be more comfortable with the "gray" between sharply-focused dogmatic scripture-based interpolations and the more ambiguous realm of Divine Mystery. There can be a "pastoral disconnect", i.e., a difference between what a clergyman might say in compassion to a person steeped in sin and wondering how God could ever love him, and what the same clergyman might proclaim publically from his or her pulpit in order to be true to  his or her stripe. If the two are very different from one another, there might be some inauthenticity or even disengenuousness present. An evangelical might tend to fix this discrepancy via more strictness in the counseling office ("No, I won't baptize your baby until you repent of your lesbian lifestyle"). A contemplative might tend to fix it via less strictness (or, "Grace", perhaps?) from the pulpit ("All are welcome, regardless."). I have had my own (re-) awakening to  contemplative spirituality.  Especially drawn to the spirituality of the Benedictines and their commitment to Obedience, Humility, Stability and Hospitality, I have reclaimed some pastoral room in my life for things that might not fit in my previous doctrinal fences and dogmatic boxes. "Obedience" to the Lord,  chiefly through a commitment to follow the Rule of  the order. "Humility" to trust God to know what He doing within the community to which one has committed himself or  herself. "Stability" to remain committed to the community and the rule, even though some or much of what is  going on in the community may seem questionable or unpleasant. "Hospitality" to see Jesus even in the person who might seem least like Him. This, in practice, is a very Christ-like way of life. Obedience, Humility, Stability, Hospitality. I thought seriously about becoming a Benedictine Oblate (non-cloistered adherant to  a Benedictine community). But as I prayed through it, I came to the conclusion that I should be an "oblate" (poured-out offering) to my commmunity at St.  George's Episcopal  Church, which is committed to  the larger community of ECUSA and the worldwide Anglican Communion. You can begin to see how "leaving", despite contradictions and even theological differences, might be less and less a part of my vocabulary, and "stability" might provide an atmosphere of safety and dignity among every human being. A parishioner who has explored Benedictine spirituality with me came to  see me  in my office some months back. He comes from a decidedly evangelical and conservative tradition. He said, "This blessing of same-sex unions would be a deal-breaker for me. I do not agree with it, and doubt that I ever will. But because of the discipline of Benedictine Stability, I want you to know that I am pledged to this community (congregation), and therefore I will remain. " This is evidence of true transformation. He has been doing his inner work, and has concluded that he can trust God to work for his good, even through the "infidel" and the "heretic" (my words, not his...a figure of speech, not an accusation). It reminds me of a book by J.B Phillips that my mother gave me when I was 12: Your God is Too Small. So let's just say that I have been too lenient on Bishop Jefferts-Schori. Let's assume that she really is an equivocating "heterodox" with a watered-down christology and a weak view on the authority of scripture. If that were true, and I don't think that  it is (I feel that her words have been twisted and that she has been vilified unfairly), I made a vow to God within the context of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America. My understanding of "Stability" asks my heart,  "Can you trust God to be God even in a place of what some people call "darkness"? Is there any place where God refuses to be present? Would  you dare take  it  upon yourself to  make that call?" Next installment: Jesus' high-priestly prayer.

Why I Stayed, Part IV

When I and 35 families started West Shore Church, we were intent on reaching people who would never go to church if it was what they  thought it was...preachy, formal, unrealistic, out of touch...It didn't take us long to get to 175 on a Sunday. But we had our challenges along the way and went down or up from there. We stopped having communion on Sunday because we were serious about attracting seekers and unbelievers. If we had real unbelievers in the congregation (and we did), we didn't want to have to say, "excuse us while the family has a private meal. Just talk amongst yourselves." We also eventually had coffee tables and sofas and easy chairs in he "sanctuary", I stopped wearing a clergy collar, and I would arrive in a short sleeve shirt, jeans and flip-flops and would sit and "rap" about life and God after the band played really good and really loud rock and roll music.

We were still an official Episcopal mission, had the blessing of the bishop, and did a significant work in the lives of many people. All in all, we baptized many adults and even confirmed 135 people whom I would bet my life would never have done that if we hadn't taken the approach that we had. It was hard to convince many of my colleagues, though, who felt threatened and that we were thumbing our noses at the time-honored liturgy of the church. I always said the same thing: "We are ONE. You stay anchored firmly where you are. We will stay connected to you and drift over here to catch some fish that the church has never fished for before. But we are depending on you to stay anchored and connected." They usually understood that  analogy and relaxed. But it was a challenge.

After 10 years of this, and during a change of bishops, some financial challenges, and the loss of key collegial support, West Shore Church was closed by the Diocese. I never felt so alone. The Diocese was not interested to have the names of the 135 confirmed souls I offered them (whose confirmation and baptismal records remain in boxes in my attic to this day). I never renounced my Orders, but I did leave active ministry for awhile, trying to make a go  of it with my clock repair business. I attended St. James Church and helped out there, preaching once in a while and singing in the choir. Most of my colleagues didn't realize that I am  a classically trained musician and that I am a contemplative at heart, adoring the ancient paths of the historic church. They assumed, I'm assuming, that because I had a non-liturgical rock and roll church, that this was my preferred worship style and my default take on ecclesology. I  don't think they believed me when I said we were doing church this way because of a specific call for a specific cross-section of people, seeing ourselves connected with and one with the Diocese. We had the opportunity to do a new thing, and we took it. No regrets. But we WERE misunderstood.

As I told my congregation on our last day (during which we baptized 2 babies, 3 adolescents and 3 recovering drug addicts): "I'm sure the diciples scratched their heads at the foot of the cross, saying to themselves that the crucifixion was the biggest mistake they had ever witnessed. But it turned out to be the most profound blessing of the cosmos. This may look to you  like a big mistake...and it IS, but God knows what He is doing. Watch what He makes of this."

More specifically about St. George's later. But let me end this segment by saying that when I came back to regular ministry at St. George's, I came back to the Episcopal Church, with all her liturgy and her unity and her history and her hierarchy and her love (a VERY open and loving people at St. George's in Summerville---just like  Bennettsville), and re-embraced the "ancient paths" and the saints' wisdom and the contemplative life and the catholic faith with a deep, deep love. I had been in the wilderness for over 10 years. I truly appreciated, perhaps more than most, what a treasure the church is...and what a home she is for the soul.

So I learned through my West Shore  experience that the church, for all her flaws, is  the Body of Christ, the bride of Christ...and is much to  be  desired, all her faults notwithstanding.

Next...St. Benedict and humility, stability and hospitality.

Why I Stayed, Part III

If you've been following along, I digressed in "Why I Stayed, Part II" to the model on human relations that my father left for me. I also remember a solo he used to sing at First (Scots) Presbyterian Church by Fred Spielman and Janice Torre entitled "Mankind Should Be My Business". The lyrics are as follows: Mankind should be my business, Mankind should be my trade. I realize it is my business to give my fellow man my ade (sic). The whole world should be my office, Heaven should be my boss, man's happiness should be my proffet (sic), his suffering should be my loss. Just changing money is not enough to make my life worthwhile, I should change a human tear into a human smile. These words were put into Scrooge's mouth in "The Stingiest Man in Town". Another peg on which to hang the garments of my life.

But now, back to Bennettsville, South Carolina, where I was called to be rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church...fresh out of seminary, so until I was ordained a priest, I was "Deacon in Charge". To this day I tell people that the dumbest thing I ever did was to leave that town. Not that the flocks to which I was subsequently called were not a blessing, but this community was idyllic (literally, being a rural place, and figuratively because I remember it as paradise). There was tremendous love and respect among the people there, and since the town was out in the middle of nowhere, there was a sense of appreciation for one another. We all knew we needed each other. I used to think that I had really great relational gifts because, despite large challenges at times (an arsonist burned down our Education Building 3 days before I arrived in town) and great differences of opinion, people rarely, if ever, left the congregation, except when they died or moved away. But now I realize that, if you were going to be an Episcopalian in Bennetsville, the closest option was almost 20 miles away! Given that "breaking up is hard to do", people were more motivated to work things out.

When I moved to Charleston, however, there were 11 Episcopal  congregations within a 7 mile radius! And at least 20 in the greater Charleston area! So if you didn't like the way things were going in your church, or if you were mad at your priest, you could easily go somewhere else while remaining in the communion. And boy did my image of my relational skills take a beating. I was humbled, scorched and mauled. I learned in Charleston that the only thing more dangerous than politics is religion. There were enough people who tended not to be radical followers of Jesus, but who were instead "consumers of religious goods and services", to make leading a congregation less than pleasant for much of the time. So much time and energy had to be wasted on placation rather than spent on true mission. My ideals were nearly crushed. And I soured on the institutional church. There had to be a better way to reach people with the life-saving, hope-giving Good News of Jesus Christ! Next installment: West Shore Church.

So, reason number two for "Why I Stayed" is : "Bennettsville reaffirmed for me the value and sweetness that comes from sticking together, and the fruit that comes from working things out, even when times are tough."

Why I Stayed, Part II

Let me digress to my childhood for this installment. My father was a local democrat. Not a "bleeding heart liberal" as we used to differentiate ourselves, but one who voted democratic on the local scene, especially with regard to helping the black community rise out of its unfortunate unequal economic and social standing. He was a fiscal conservative, and usually voted Republican in National Elections. That was a broad model to grow up in in my household. And we talked about it (not like the caricature of "let me tell you one thing, Sonny Boy!" but more in the considered, gentle manner of instruction and give and take--civilized discussion). He also was Vice President of the Medical University for Development and Public Relations. He spent much time working with the South Carolina legislature, mostly trying to make sure that public monies would not get "trapped" in Columbia, and forget to make their way to the Medical School in Charleston. He would take me once in awhile to see the goings on and the debates in the State House and Senate, as well as the discussions over drinks and lunch with elected representatives and lobbyists. Sometimes the ideological differences were profound. Sometimes discussions were impassioned. But ALWAYS, ALWAYS there was table fellowship, courtesy, mutual respect and actual FRIENDSHIP. I once even witnessed political betrayal. Frank discussions followed. But they made up, shook hands and moved on as friends and with mutual respect. That was the extraordinarily beautiful model that was provided for me.

By contrast, the precipitous departure by the Diocese of South Carolina from TEC (some would say a precipitous response to precipitous ideological shifts), was so radically different in tone from the model shown to me in my childhood that it "felt" to me like the wrong course to take. By contrast, I experienced more love and respect among political opponents back in the day than I did in my Diocese and among some of my colleagues today. I will address the high priestly prayer of Jesus that we be one and love one another so that the world may know that we are His disciples at another time.

So as for "why I stayed", reason number one is: "My father modeled for me a different way." Next installment: "Back to Bennettsville"

I realize that this auto-biographical format does not lend itself well to comments. They are invited, nonetheless.

Why I Stayed, Part I

Arrogant as this sounds, when I first seriously discerned my call to ordination in 1983 at the age of 27, I saw it as a call to be a missionary TO the Episcopal Church because my experience of it was that many of its clergy were in my opinion clueless and not walking in a "personal" relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ. It was about that time that Fr. Sam Fleming, then rector of Holy Communion, Charleston, where I was a member for a time, handed me Goodspeed's Apostolic Fathers. I was humbled by it because it showed me that Christianity started a bit before 1956 (the year of my birth), and that there has been no original thought, good or bad, for a couple of thousand years. I began to see that the church held within it a rich heritage of what we now call "ancient paths" liturgically, hermeneutically, pastorally, ecclesiologically and theologically. Thank God for Fr. Sam who helped to open my eyes to deeper truths. At the same time, the Diocese of South Carolina was transforming into a classically anglican evangelical place of refuge and a training ground for young evangelical clergy. In a few short years, we at Trinity School for Ministry tagged the Diocese as "Allison's Wonderland", referring to Bishop C. Fitzsimons Allison who helped to found the school as a center of evangelicalism for ECUSA, which was "going liberal and in need of correction". What he meant by that was that doctrines such as substitutionary atonement were in danger of being relegated to the historical recycle bin and replaced with modernist theology. Fitz once noted in my hearing that every theological giant's great revelation (Martin Luther's "sola fide", for example) would eventually ossify, at best, or become virulent, at worst, through well-meaning disciples who would try to protect, systematize and legalize the doctrine. See Zwinglianism. Fitz called it "spiritual entropy", the natural running down of an original energy. I wonder if that same sort of spiritual entropy may have begun to occur in South Carolina, where the defense of God and "orthodoxy" are tempted to overrun love, reason and respect for other views. Evangelicalism is but one of at least 5 main streams in historic Christianity, the others being Social Justice (old school liberal), Charismatic (pentecostal), Incarnational (Liturgical) and Contemplative: credit Richard Foster Streams of Living Water. Into the evangelical and eventually reformed world I was immersed. And out I came freshly-dipped as an eager young battle lieutenant into the field in Bennettsville, South Carolina in 1988.  More to come.

Why I Stayed...INTRODUCTION

Acts 2:6 says, "When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard them speaking in  his own language." In my part of the world, coastal South Carolina, that is, there's a lot of talk among "anglicans" of varying stripe, but so many people aren't really listening. I want to offer, as much as is possible, a safe place for true dialogue. No vitriol, no name-calling. As much as is possible, only love and openness to all viewpoints without ridicule. I am a priest in TEC (the Episcopal Church). It used to be that there was much room for competing and opposing ideas in this church of  the "middle way". Not so much now. A separation has occurred, and we are at "war" ideologically and theologically. Conversations today with those whom I still  consider to be colleagues are challenging because we are talking from opposing sides in a war that many of us did not choose. Over the next few days I hope to lay out the reasons why I stayed while so many of my brothers and sisters left. Comments are welcome, but I request...no require...respect and dignity in discussion. More to come...