One Photo from Cairo Shows the Way the World Could Be...

Take a moment to look at this photo, which is one of thousands taken in Cairo over the past few days. Look at the people in the center who are in the midst of their prayers. Notice the two in the foreground who have linked hands to protect them.

Think about what this photo means to you, and what you think it says about the situation in Egypt.

Now, add one more small point to your contemplation: the two men in front are Christians, part of a much larger group of Christians who have joined hands in a giant circle to protect their Muslim brethren from outside interference during their time of prayer.

Christians protecting Muslims? you may be asking. Aren't Muslims - all Muslims - sworn to kill Christians, who they see as infidels? To my way of thinking, this photograph shows things not as many - pundits, fear mongers, and the like - would like us to see them, but as they really are. Two religions - two faiths - joined together in a time of great upheaval in their country, in a tremendous sign of both respect and trust: Christians protecting Muslims and respecting their right to pray, and Muslims trusting in the support of Christians.

I cannot help but wonder if this is something we would ever see in the United States - not the violence and revolutionary atmostphere, but the joining togther of Christians and Muslims in a time of prayer. And as you think about that, remember the quote of Robert Kennedy: "Some men see things as they are and ask why; I dream things that never were and ask why not?"

Not every man is your enemy, but any man can be your brother.

The Words of Dr. King for a New Generation of Listeners

As we walked into Washington National Cathedral today for the annual celebration of the life and work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I was immediately struck by two thoughts. One, the crowd was absolutely enormous, the type of gathering that shows that are many, many people in this city - in this world, in fact (as we were to discover, the congregation included visitors from Brazil, Italy, Australia, and the Netherlands, among many other places) - who are still concerned about the work left unfinished at the time of Dr. King's death.

The other thought which struck me was that, fifty years, ago, this type of gathering would have been rare. A service where blacks and whites could sit together, laugh together, smile together, sing together, and pray together ... a rare event indeed.

Thank God the world into which I was born, and in which my daughters are being raised, is better. Not perfect, mind you, but much better.

Thanks to Dr. King and many others like him.

We were all seated, the prelude ended, and Dean Lloyd took to the stage. A few brief words of welcome, silence ... and then, the voice. Echoing off the walls and vaults of the massive cathedral in a moment that, each time I experience it, brings me to tears ... the voice. The voice of Dr. King, recorded in the pulpit of that cathedral just days before his death, on March 31, 1968. The deliberate, passionate, Spirit-filled, God-driven voice, preaching on the topic, "Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution". The voice that brought the thousands in attendance this afternoon to a hard stop ... absolute silence ... and, despite my own eyes being closed, I'm certain brought more tears to many eyes.

And these are the words that echoed off of those walls, the words that moved me today, the words that forever tie Dr. King to that sacred space:

"We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured."

We had to leave before the end of the event, before the singing of "We Shall Overcome". But we were there, and more importantly, our daughters were there. No, they may not remember the songs of the Children's Chorus of Washington, or the words of the Interfaith Voices, or the dance of CityDance Early Arts. I do hope, however, that they remember that they were there ... that they heard the voice of Dr. King ... that they saw a community united in tribute to this great man ... that they prayed for justice and peace.

Above all, I hope that they absorb and revisit these moments, these lessons, so that they - and their generation - can continue to overcome.

Bonhoeffer Sermon Series: 1928 Sermon on Psalm 62

Last week, I began to lead a six-week course on the sermons of Dietrich Bonhoeffer for the adults in our parish congregation. Week one consisted of excerpts of an outstanding documentary on the life of the famed German theologian, entitled "Hanged on a Twisted Cross". Today, we discussed the first of the sermons, delivered by Bonhoeffer on July 13, 1928 during his one year term as vicar for the German congregation in Barcelona, Spain. I'd like to share the background and discussion questions I prepared, as well as the text of the sermon (which is available in the works of Bonhoeffer published by Augsburg Fortress Press).

Background

As part of his training for ordination as a pastor, Bonhoeffer spent the year February 1928 – February 1929 as curate of the Protestant congregation in Barcelona, Spain. At that time, the city of Barcelona had a German population of approximately 6,000, of which 300 were members of the congregation and an average of 50 would attend Sunday services. Bonhoeffer built up the children’s service, organized a Christmas pageant, proposed a plan for religious instruction in the church school, and started a discussion group for older adolescents. Because of his work, he became very popular with the young people and their parents, a cause for jealousy for the pastor Fritz Olbricht. During this year, Bonhoeffer also worked mornings in the office of the German relief organization Deutsche Hilfsverein, founded in 1868 by German expatriates in Barcelona.

Bonhoeffer’s 19 sermons during this time were all based on biblical texts, with all except the one below and one taken from the Song of Songs based on the New Testament. While written out in long sentences and reading like lectures, occasionally Bonhoeffer would memorize his sermons and use notes to deliver them extemporaneously.

Text

“My soul is silent before God, who helps me.” (Psalm 62:2)

Sermon Text

Thousands of years ago, at a distant place far to the east, a pious man, standing amid the storms of life, knelt down before God in the solitude and silence of the holy Jewish temple, deeply partaking of that holy silence, drinking it into the depth of his soul, and spoke these words: “My soul is silent before God, who helps me.” Oh, you ancient singer of our psalm, you sensed the bliss and sweetness of God’s peace on this earth; you are like the image of a gentle dream to us, so longed for and yet so distant, ah, so distant. We love your image, but we no longer understand it, no longer want to understand it. Ah, come close to us, very close in this sacred hour and tell us about the silence of the soul, about silence before God. Imprint your image deep into our hearts and show us something of your bliss, for we know you have much to say to us.

My soul is silent before God. Like a song from ancient times, like a medieval picture, painted on a gilt background, like a childhood memory, this strange, alien statement about the soul drifts down to us in the twentieth century. Is there still something like the soul in an age such as ours, an age of machines, of economic competition, of the dominance of fashion and sports; is this nothing more than a cherished childhood memory, like so much else? It just sounds so strange and peculiar amid the confusion and loud voices extolling themselves, this little word “soul”. It speaks such a gentle, quiet language that we hardly hear it anymore amid the tumult and chaos inside us. Yet it speaks a language full of the greatest responsibility and of profound seriousness; you, human being, have a soul; beware, lest you lose it, lest you awaken one day amid the frenzy of life – in both work and private life – and find that inwardly you have become empty, a plaything of events, a leaf before the wind, driven to and fro and blown away – that you have lost your soul. Watch out for your soul. What should we say about this soul? It is the life God gave us; it is what God loves in us, what God has touched from eternity. It is the love within us and the longing and the sacred restlessness and the responsibility and joy and pain. It is the divine breath breathed into a transitory being. Human being, you have a soul. This is no sweet childhood memory, no dream, but accurate reality; and thus a weighty, serious responsibility has been laid upon us and for which we will one day have to give account in eternity.

Now, however, perhaps this person or that realizes indeed that he has a soul. But, ah, look what has become of it down through the years! A restless, distracted, tormented, despondent thing, shaken to and fro by daily events, a thing that knows not whether it’s coming or going. And now it encounters the statement: my soul is silent before God. It is primarily about this silence of the soul that we want to speak today.

We can probably say that not many people have even an inkling what this silence of the soul means, fewer still are those who know something of the silence of the soul waiting for God. Yoked to the day’s work, people hardly have time to catch their breath before society – so-called entertainment – seizes them and sucks what energy is left over from work. No wonder that, left alone, people are only able to attend to their physical needs. And yet our entire being thirsts for solitude, for silence, since ultimately we have all, at one time or another, experienced such silence and have not forgotten the benefits of such hours. Today, however, we are not talking about being silent while reading a book or listening to a song or something like that, but about being silent before God.

But what does this mean? Ah, it is something so great and so sacred that one can speak of it only in human metaphors. My soul is silent before God. Like the infant who is nursed and becomes calmed at its mother’s breast and finds all its wishes fulfilled here, like the young boy who is speechless gazing upon his hero and leader, like the crying child that yearns for its mother to lay her gentle hand upon its brow and dispel and silence all its cares, like the young girl who quietly reflects on the prospect of one day becoming a mother, like the man who finds all his passion and restlessness calmed by the gaze of his beloved woman, like the person who becomes quiet before the eyes of a loyal friend, like a sick person who is calmed by the physician, like the old person who becomes calm before the face of death, like all of us who are silenced in reverence and awe at the heart of nature, under the starry heavens – just so should the soul be calmed from all the restlessness and chaos and haste, before the eyes of God; here it should quench its thirst, here its desire should become bliss, here its longing should be fulfilled, here it should find rest from the heat of the day in the protective shadow of God’s hand, here it should cast off its burdens and troubles and become free and calm beholding God, here fall silent and quiet in worship and reverence. My soul is silent before God. Becoming silent means genuinely not being able to say anything, means feeling as if an alien but beneficent hand is laid upon our lips, telling us to be silent. Being silent means blissfully beholding the one who is yearned for, the beloved, means surrendering oneself entirely, capitulating before the superior power of the other, the wholly other; it means not being ourselves for a moment but rather merely beholding the other, but it also means waiting, specifically for what the other has to say to us. Being silent before God means yielding to God the right to have the first and last word concerning us, and means accepting that word whatever it may be, for all eternity. It means not trying to justify oneself but rather listening to what God might have to say about our justification. Being silent does not mean doing nothing but means breathing in God’s will, means tensely listening and being prepared to obey. The hour of silence is an hour of serious responsibility, of being genuinely serious with God and with ourselves, and yet is also always an hour of bliss since it is an hour lived in the calmness of God. My soul becomes silent before God. That means speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.

My soul becomes silent before God, who helps me. God’s hours are hours of succor and comfort. God has an answer for every distress of our soul, and this answer is always one and the same regardless of who receives it. To the man who rescues himself out of the frenzy and commotion of daily life, to the sick person who comes to God in misery, to the person lamenting the death of a loved one, to those burdened by guilt, to the man and the woman, the elderly and the child, God speaks the enticing words: I love you. Admittedly, the fire of God’s love consumes all that is inauthentic and bad in human beings, and that hurts profoundly. Being silent before God means being small before him; it creates the pain of remorse, but also the joy of love and grace beyond all measure. My soul is silent before God, who helps me. If our soul has but found its way to God, he will help us as surely he is God. I listen attentively to God’s word and drink deeply of it, the statement: It is you, you I love, abide with me, I am your real father.

Well, of course, some might say, you’re telling us all these wonderful things, but why is it that so few actually get this far? It must be something that requires special power or grace.

There are two simple reasons. First, we are afraid of silence. We are so accustomed to commotion and noise that we are uncomfortable amid silence; we flee silence; we race from activity to activity to avoid having to be alone with ourselves for even a moment, to avoid having to look at ourselves in the mirror. We are bored with ourselves, and often the most desperate, wasted hours are those we are forced to spend by ourselves. Not only are we afraid of ourselves, of discovering and unmasking ourselves, but even more we are afraid of God, that he might disturb our aloneness and discover and unmask us, that God might draw us into partnership and do with us whatever he wants. Because we fear such unnerving, lonely encounters with God, we avoid them, avoid even the thought of God lest he suddenly get too close to us. Suddenly having to look into God’s eyes, having to be accountable before him, is too dreadful a notion; our perpetual smile might fade, things might get completely serious in a way to which we are not at all accustomed. This anxiety characterizes our entire age. We live in perpetual fear of suddenly being seized and called to task by the infinite and would rather socialize or go to the movies or theater until we are finally carried to our grave, anything rather than having to bear a single minute before God. Let us examine ourselves and see to whom some of this does not apply. That is one reason. The other is that we are too lethargic and lazy in our religious lives. Maybe we once made a good start, but, ah, how quickly it lapsed. We protest that we are just not in the mood, that religion is a matter of mood and one must wait until that mood comes upon us; and then we wait, and often wait for years, maybe even to the very end of our lives until we are once again in the mood to be religious. But this position conceals a great deception. Fine, let religion be a matter of mood; but God is not a matter of mood; God is there even if we are not in the mood to come together with him. Does this thought not worry us at all? Those who depend on their moods become impoverished. A painted who paints only when in the mood will not get very far. In religion, as in art and science, times of high tension alternate with times of sober work and practice. Contact with God must be practiced; otherwise we can never find the right tone, the right word, the right language when God surprises us. We must learn the language of God, laboriously learn that language; we must work so that we, too, are able to speak with God. Prayer must also be practiced through serious work. Confusing religion with emotional daydreaming is a grievous, fateful error. Religion takes work, perhaps the hardest and certainly the most sacred work a person can undertake. It’s pathetic to make do with the assertion, “I’m just not religiously inclined” – when there is a God who wants us. That’s just an excuse. No doubt, it’s more difficult for some than for others. But we can be sure that no one has attained it without serious effort. And this is why silence before God, too, requires work and practice. Such silence requires the daily courage to expose oneself to God’s word and allow oneself to be judged by it; it requires the spontaneity to rejoice in God’s love every day. But this already brings us to the question: What are we supposed to do to penetrate through to this silence of God? Here I can say a bit to you based on my own modest experience. None of us is so rushed that we cannot find ten minutes a day during the morning or evening to be silent, to focus on eternity alone, allow eternity to speak, to query it concerning ourselves, and in the process look deeply into ourselves and far beyond ourselves, either by reading a couple of biblical passages or, even better, by becoming completely free and allowing our soul to travel to the house of the Father, to the home in which it finds peace. And those who seriously apply themselves to such exercises day after day will amply experience the golden abundance of the fruit such hours yield. Of course, it’s always difficult at the beginning, and anyone who embarks on such an undertaking will feel rather funny, indeed perhaps even quiet empty the first few times. Before long, however, the soul is filled; it begins to come alive and feel stronger, experiencing the eternal silence residing in God’s love, and the distress and worries, restlessness and haste, noise and commotion, tears and anxiety are all hushed within it, and it becomes silent before God, from whom its salvation comes. My soul is silent before God, who helps me.

One law of the world is that there can be no rest and satisfaction in it. No passion is totally quenched here. Fulfillment itself already contains the urge to move beyond what has been attained. The rich want to get richer, the powerful more powerful. The reason is that in this world nothing is whole, so that every success, be it ever so great, is still only a partial success. If peace and quiet are to be found anywhere, that can only e where the whole has already been attained; but that means in God. All human activity and searching is ultimately directed toward God and finds its ultimate fulfillment only in him. Only in God is there genuine peace and quiet, something the great church father Augustine superbly expressed nit h words, “You have made us for yourself, and our soul is restless until it rests in you.” May God grant something of this rest to all of us, may God draw us into his stillness and solitude, and we will be grateful to him. Amen.

Discussion Questions

1. What was your overall impression of the sermon?

2. Bonhoeffer say that being silent before God means yielding the right for God to have the first and last word. How difficult is that for you to do?

3. Are you afraid of silence? Do you try and fill your life with so much to do to avoid it?

4. Do you agree with Bonhoeffer’s contention that being silent before God can create the pain of remorse (along with joy) – particularly since part of silence can be used for confessing and/or unburdening?

5. Bonhoeffer talks about the soul being lost in a time such as ours (with machines, economic competition, etc.). Do you ever feel that you have lost track of your soul because of the rush of life? How much attention tdo you pay to your soul?

6. Is there anything Bonhoeffer has said with which you disagree?

7. In a letter written by Bonhoeffer one month after this sermon, he said he used to believe that sermons had a center, and that if that center was hit it would move anyone or confront them with a decision. He later changed his view, but I’m curious as to whether this sermon moved or confronted you.

In Honor of Dr. King: A Mighty Eloquence

Today, on the occasion of the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I have nothing to say. No original thoughts about this remarkable man are coming to mind. I have no eloquent comments about his life and legacy. I have no tears of my own to shed, for as the event in Tuscon last week have proven, individual tears have been lost in the torrent that today, 42 years after his death, is still being shed by the nation.

In truth, I don't feel like I should have anything to say. I shouldn't try to be eloquent or original. I should let Dr. King's eloquence speak for itself. As such, the most appropriate thing I can do is to share his own words. Here, I have included an excerpt from his sermon, "The Drum Major Instinct", delivered in February 1968. The entire sermon is worth reading - and listening to; it is available in many places on the Internet.

As you read this excerpt, thing of this man, his life, and his legacy. Think of how far this nation has come in 42 years ... and thing about how far we still have to go.

And every now and then I think about my own death and I think about my own funeral. And I don't think of it in a morbid sense. And every now and then I ask myself, "What is it that I would want said?" And I leave the word to you this morning.

If any of you are around when I have to meet my day, I don’t want a long funeral. And if you get somebody to deliver the eulogy, tell them not to talk too long. And every now and then I wonder what I want them to say. Tell them not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize—that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention that I have three or four hundred other awards—that’s not important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school.

I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others.

I'd like for somebody to say that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody.

I want you to say that day that I tried to be right on the war question.

I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry.

And I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe those who were naked.

I want you to say on that day that I did try in my life to visit those who were in prison.

I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.

Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice. (Amen) Say that I was a drum major for peace. I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter.

The Joy of Discovery: My Side Trip with Henri Nouwen

To my list of favorite Christian teachers and authors, you can now add Henri Nouwen. I've had a few of his books on my shelf for some time, waiting to be read, but it wasn't until this week - when I began reading Befriending Life: Encounters with Henri Nouwen - that I discovered just how powerful an impact this man made on so many lives.

My initial thought when starting on this side journey was to mentally slap myself for not having turned to his writing sooner. Then again, don't we always approach things in our lives exactly how we are supposed to, and at exactly the right moment? Yes, Nouwen was on the shelf (or, in my case, the bedside table), but the time wasn't right until this week. And what an exciting and emotional time it has been.

Here was a man who was one of the most acclaimed teachers and lecturers in the world, holding professorships at Harvard and Yale before moving into the L'Arche Daybreak community in Canada and living out the rest of his life as a friend and mentor to many. And yet his writing - and the memories others have of their time with him - are sprinkled, sometimes more heavily than others, with the same doubts, indecision, insecurity, and need for acceptance that we all experience. Rather than hiding these feelings or attemtping to overcome them, this renowned Catholic priest used them to relate to people and to help them with their own struggles and spiritural journeys.

My journey with Nouwen will indeed be a long one, and I look forward to reading as much of his work as I can get my hands on. And if that writing is anything like this excerpt below, taken from Befriending Life, it will be a great journey indeed.

"The key to gratitude is to cultivate surprise. Surprise!

"Let's say I call you up and say that I am coming over soon and I am bringing you flowers. You might be very happy. You also might build up expectations about when I would get there and how nice the flowers would be. Indeed, you might build up such a strong sense of what was going to happen that when I actually got there and had only three daisies you might be disappointed.

"But imagine instead that I call you and say that I will be coming by and then, when you open the door, there I am standing with a bunch of flowers. Surprise! I have brought you a gift that you didn't expect. You would be touched and happy ... and grateful."

A Fleeting Glimpse of Bobby Bowden

In case you haven't heard, Coach Bobby Bowden has a new book.

Of course, I don't know how you couldn't have heard - he's been all over the airwaves playing it up, and answering the inevitable (and oft-repeated) questions about the circumstances surrounding his dismissal from Florida State. Now it's fair to say that I've never been much of a Florida State fan, preferring instead to side with my home-state Virginia Tech Hokies, but Bowden to me has always been an entertaining guy. His interviews and press conferences have always been fun to watch, and over the years he's never seemed to lose touch with his Alabama roots (even with his connections to FSU and West Virginia).

Over the past few days, I've learned more about him than I have in previous years, and I like what I've learned. It's certainly been enough to tempt me to read more, and as such I'm looking forward to reading his new volume, Called to Coach. But the interviews and book tour also jogged memories of my brief brush with the coach four years ago - if you call being in the same stadium with him as a brush.

In 2006,I was in Florida for a relaxing weekend with several guys from my college days, and we had stopped at FSU to pick up one of our friends who still worked for the university. While waiting to depart, I was given a quick peek inside the football stadium - an impressive sight indeed. I was surprised to find that Bowden, his coaching staff and the team had just finished up a practice and were gathered in the center of the field. He was certainly easy to pick out - the famous hat being a great homing beacon - and because I had my camera with me I was able to snap several photos.

Coach, I know the Seminole nation will miss you and your presence on the field, but I hope you enjoy retirement and your time with the family. Your team cost the Hokies a national title a few years back, and that's a grudge that I know will hang over Blacksburg for a long time, but you were always a class act. College football will definitely not be the same this season.

These pictures are for you...

What is Poverty? William Stringfellow Answers...

William Stringfellow - lawyer, activist, lecturer and Episcopal lay theologian - moved to an apartment on 100th Street in Harlem in 1956 and set about the work of representing the residents of that depressed area of New York City. As he documented in his autobiography, My People is the Enemy, he made this move out of a sense of Christian duty to those among his fellow man who were suffering most, despite the numerous other opportunities he could have pursued in private practice or as part of a large firm.

During his time in Harlem, he was exposed to the severe poverty in which his friends, neighbors and clients were living, and which many today often choose to ignore - whether by averting their eyes and thus not seeing, or by contributing money and calling it a day, rather than rolling up their sleeves and jumping right in. Forty-four years have passed, but the circumstances which Stringfellow witnessed first-hand are as present today as ever.

And what is poverty? I think Stringfellow's summary answers that question beautifully - not in terms of the imagery, but in his writing style. As you read, I want you to ponder the poverty in your own neighborhood, town or city, and reflect on what you have done lately to help. What you see here isn't confined just to Harlem, or Mobile, or Washington, D.C. - it's anyplace where we really take the time to look and see.

"Poverty is a widow on welfare whose landlord cuts the heat, knowing that the winter will end before a complaint is processed. Poverty is a drug addict who steals from his own family or pawns the jacket off his back to get another 'fix.' Poverty is being evicted from a housing project because the project manager determines that the family is 'undesirable.' Poverty is a Puerto Rican shopkeeper whose store is stoned when he tries to relocate south of the 96th Street boundary of East Harlem. Poverty is an adolescent with a tested I.Q. of 130 who cannot read or write the English language well enough to get other than the most menial jobs. Poverty is the pay-off to a building inspector not to report violations of the building code. Poverty is a young couple who marry because that is the only way to get out of the tenements and into a project, and whose marriage fails, and who have neither the grounds for a divorce in New York nor the price for a divorce in another jurisdiction. Poverty is being awakened in the middle of the night by a welfare investigator who demands to search your apartment to be sure you are not cheating the taxpayers. Poverty is the incapacity to complain against the landlord because you can't afford to take a day off from your job or from minding the family to go to court. Poverty is a kid who wants to be adopted to escape from the slums but whom no one wants. Poverty is a boy whose father has thrown him out, a boy who needs a place to stay. Poverty is living in darkness after the electric current has been turned off as a fire hazard, and waiting for six or seven days until someone is sent to repair the obsolete wiring.

"Poverty is the enormous burden of waiting - waiting for hours for a doctor to examine a sick child at the hospital clinic, waiting for an interview with a social worker, waiting at the employment office, waiting in line for what the government ironically calls 'surplus' food, wiating for everything, everywhere you go.

"Poverty is the vulnerability to death in its crudest forms. Poverty is the relentless daily attrition of contending with the most primitive concerns of human existence: food and cleanliness and clothes and heat and housing and rest and play and work."

Why be an Episcopalian? Ask Our Presiding Bishop...

Does the American Anglican Council Even Care About Fact?

And the misrepresentation continues.

In the July 30, 2010 newsletter penned by the Rev. Phil Ashey of the American Anglican Council, the July 18 visit of Bishop Gene Robinson to Foundry United Methodist Church was summarized in this way: "Bishop Gene Robinson of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire preached at Foundry United Methodist church in Washington, DC, and urged them to 'get in trouble' by conducting same-sex marriages to show 'God's limitless, boundless and unimaginable love.'"

Again, this is not what Gene said - what he said was, ""When I ordain deacons, I tell them that I expect them to get into some Gospel trouble. If they're not in trouble, I wonder if it is the Gospel that they are preaching." This misrepresentation of his remarks perpetuates the incorrect information floating around. I can only assume at this point that those in the AAC don't have any interest at all in knowing the facts; it seems that all that is important to them is what THEY think, and facts be damned...

Friday Miscellany: Jack Spong, Lambeth, and Other Thoughts

In his column for this week, retired Episcopal Bishop Jack Spong offers a brief discussion of the General Epistles in the New Testament. I was amused to find, in his concluding paragraph, that the Bishop offered this assessment of the General Epistles:

"Not all parts of the Bible are equally holy. The General Epistles we have looked at in this column do not come close to some other parts of the New Testament in either integrity or power. They are, however, 'in the book' and so, to complete our journey through the Bible, I include them. I urge you to read them once. It will not take more than ten minutes. Then you will have done it and you will never have to do it again, for, some parts of the Bible, once is enough."

I can't help but wonder what Eusebius thought about these particular epistles when he compiled the current form of the Bible in 336 - and what the general consensus was at the Council of Nicaea on these texts. Did they, too, think that "once was enough"?

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While reading The Episcopal Church in Crisis, by Frank Kirkpatrick, I ran across the following quote first spoken by the Right Reverend Simon Chiwanga, retired Bishop of Mpwapwa Diocese in the Anglican Province of Tanzania: "Forcing your point of view by excluding from your circle those who disagree with you, or by compelling acceptance, is to usurp the place of God."

That line is worded in such a way as it could be used on both sides of the current debate within the Anglican Communion, but I can't help but wonder how many people in can honestly say they are taking those words to heart? Since 2003, how many people - particularly on the side of the more conservative folks who have broken away from the Episcopal Church and are now aligned with the Southern Cone bishops - have stopped for one moment to think that they are trying to stand in God's shoes?

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Conservative Anglicans are quick to claim that the rulings which come out of the once-a-decade Lambeth Conferences should be acknowledged as "law" by the 38 global provinces. The recommendations on such things as the prohibition on further consecration of gay or lesbian bishops should be viewed as gospel until such time as the entire Communion approves such moves, or only after consideration is given to the potential impact on the worldwide Church.

But are these conservatives being selective on which proclamations they accept? Shouldn't they take that same view on all statements coming from Lambeth? I'm convinced that they are.

In looking at some previous Lambeth and Anglican Consultative Council statements, I can't see where the entire Anglican Communion is living up to the statements to which many feel we should all strictly adhere. Some examples: (1) Lambeth 1948 - attendees affirmed that Scripture "should be continually interpreted in the context of the Church's life; (2) Lambeth 1988 - attendees reaffirmed the "historical position of respect for diocesan boundaries and the authority of bishops within those boundaries"; (3) Anglican Consultative Council 1993 - affirmed that it "would be inappropriate to any bishop to exercise episcopal authority within a diocese without first securing permission from the resident bishop." (The last quote is on page 47 of the Kirkpatrick book.

Today, I often hear that Scripture is set and shouldn't be interpreted in the context of the modern world. The move of the breakaway Episcopal congregations in the United States to invite the oversight of African bishops without the approval of their diocesan bishops (with, to my knowledge, the exception of the Dioceses of Forth Worth, Pittsburgh, and a few others, where the bishops did give approval for alternate Anglican involvement) flies in the face of the 1988 and 1993 statements.

So why the selectivity? I didn't realize this was an either-or set of circumstances when deciding which statements to adhere to and which to conveniently ignore or overlook.