A Future for the Church

I had some serious thoughts about the future of the church this afternoon, after reading about a diocese deciding to close a parish that was only able to support a half-time priest shared with another congregation. I get a sense that many in diocesan leadership are still hoping for the future church to take the same shape as the church of the past: that each parish would have a full-time priest, and be able to fund its own operation and maintain its facility, perhaps supported by some endowment funds but largely from the contributions of its own active membership. 

I don't want to sound too pessimistic, but I'm not sure that this is a reasonable expectation for the future of the church except in a few cases. I'm old enough to recall that the "norm" for the church was just that: a full-time rector, and in many cases one or more full-time paid curates, except in the smallest parishes. It should come as no surprise that many of those salaried curates have been replaced by non-stipendiary associates, often retired clergy; and not a few "rectors" are actually less-than-full-time, and retain the title without the old meaning.

I think the truth is that the church of the 50s died in the 60s, or at least fell seriously ill, and we are seeing the long-term results, not just in the small churches, but in all others apart from those heavily-endowed, or fortunate enough to subsist in urban centers where a ministry or cultural outreach supports the program, or in the few parts of the country where church-going is still considered a social duty; and I don't know how long any of these are  going to last. As someone opined recently, "they're not coming back." Once people discover they can do without the church, they do without the church — or at least the model of the church as "full-time priest and congregation."

It may be that the church of the future in much of the US will be the small parish with a part-time or chaplaincy-model (regular supply) priest and a cadre of lay leaders who carry out most of the responsibility of maintaining the church property and ministry in their community. If the church has the financial resources to do that (pay its bills, including whatever assessment is required, support a cleric at a level less than the old "rector", maintain its property and engage in meaningful ministry of some sort) I would strongly suggest that diocesan authorities should allow it to continue to exist and function at that level; not in the hope that it will bounce back to what it may have been in the 1950s but as a recognition that this may well be the future of the church for the next generation or two, if not longer. 

Taking the option of closing such a church down, selling off the property or otherwise alienating it robs not only the possible future for growth, but the present, immediate and actual future of a continued presence and ministry at a smaller, but still meaningful, scale. 

Part of my concern is that the current metrics for judging the "success" of the church revolve around both the meaning of metrics and of success. I'm also thinking about the mismatch between a focus on the cleric and her salary (and housing and pension) as the normative deal-breaker as opposed to the liveliness of the ministry of the laity — not just in worship attendance (which seems relatively passive) but in what they do in their weekday lives: which supposedly is the mission of the church. In short, are we supporting a model of the church that is still largely clerical and "within the walls" at the expense of possible new models?

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

No Trust in Princes

There is a root problem that plagues any concept of government: a hopeful idealism or dogged perfectionism. If only we can get X better (or a better X) it will solve all our problems, or work perfectly. A benign and wise absolute philosopher-king at one extreme, or a total democracy at the other, both make  the false promise that a systemic solution is possible. But the common factor in all human error is the humans — there is no system so perfectly designed that fallible humans cannot render it FUBAR: this is the normal situation, AFU. Ask anyone who works at the help desk of any software company.

This is one reason I am so fond of the Anglican dictum that councils are fallible since they are a collection of fallible individuals. Democracy is no more a perfect solution than absolute monarchy. The mob and the monarch are equally fallible, and no less dangerous. It is the phantom of perfect government that haunts us, the feeling that if we just try a new system we can get it right. There ain't no philosopher's stone of government, and the admission of a felt need that something needs to be governed — i.e. controlled — reveals there is an unruliness under the surface of any and all government, and those from whom this government is confected (all, many, few, or one) are inescapably the root of the problem. To err is human, and so long as humans are in charge, Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who will police the police?

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Me and My House

Were I a conciliar Christian, I would no doubt belong to a church that recognized conciliarism as part of its essence — as in the Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox traditions. If I wanted to be part of a confessional church, I would join one of those that had a formal confession, such as that of Augsburg or Westminster. But as it is, I am an Anglican. As such I reject the notion that councils can be trusted always to be right in matters even of faith; and accept that confessions are basically just the work of relatively recent councils (or conventicles), and are just as prone to error, as well as being much too much concerned over controversies that later turn out to have been of no lasting importance.

As I say, I'm an Anglican — of the Episcopal sort — a "creedal Christian" if you want to give it a name. I'm happy to read the confessions and reflect on the decisions of councils, but am not hard pressed to adopt either. The doctrinal minimalism of the Anglican tradition — what C. S. Lewis called "mere Christianity" — suits my temperament. I'm able to recite the doctrine of the church every Sunday morning, in the words of the Nicene Creed. (Yes, I realize that was the work of two, count 'em, two Councils. But, as my mother said in her last words on this earth, "That's enough.")

So I'm puzzled by the efforts of some to drag Anglicans into some other form of either conciliar or confessional church. The ones that exist along those lines seem to do quite well, and I think we Anglicans will lose something of value if we seek to become more like one or the other. I had rather we continue as a somewhat rambunctious and not always agreeable family of interrelated national or provincial churches with a common heritage balanced by the freedom for considerable local adaptation. Oh, and the Gospel at the heart.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Something could be finer

I suppose it should not come as a surprise that a court in South Carolina should find that The Episcopal Church is a loose confederation of independent dioceses that are free to associate or disassociate at will. This finding is, I hope most Episcopalians recognize, in error. The case for diocesan autonomy is based largely on stray quotations taken out of context, both documentary and historical. For instance, much is made of William White's early reflections in The Case of the Episcopal Churches, written in a time before the church came to be as such, and standing in stark contrast to what actually happened once things came to a head and proceeded, as amply documented in White's later Memoirs.

Assertions of "sovereignty" or "independence" are revealed to be specious in the face of the fact that -- apart from that very early period in which bishops were obtained more or less on suffrance -- from the time of the first actual Constitution a "state" or a diocese could not obtain a bishop without the approval of the rest of the church's episcopal and clerical and lay leadership (originally by the General Convention itself, later by other processes). Can one imagine a circumstance in which a "sovereign" State of the the US would have to gain the approval of Congress, or of the governors in office and the legislatures of a majority of the states in order to place their own elected governor into office?

No, The Episcopal Church is more hierarchical than the Federal Government, to which it bears only a passing resemblance. It is not a confederation, but unitary -- ultimately the General Convention is the final authority, and the Oath of Conformity "binds" all clergy to the doctrine, discipline and worship of the Church as determined by the General Convention; and diocesan conventions are not permitted to alter the General Constitution on their own, nor are they given a direct voice in its composition or amendment, save through their deputies to the General Convention -- as the Constitution states at present, and as was proposed in 1785, ratified in 1789. Amendments are sent to the dioceses and their conventions for information, not approval, and ratified (or not) at the next session of the General Convention, by that General Convention. There is no higher court of appeal.

Some make much of the fact that the Constitution of TEC does not expressly forbid a diocese becoming independent. Actually, it does provide for this for foreign dioceses -- several of which, such as those in Mexico and Brazil, have become independent as churches in their own right. The absence of a "supremacy clause" from the Constitution of the Episcopal Church was not an oversight, but a decision that such a clause was not necessary in a church whose members were bound in a "union" (the nuptial imagery is relevant!) and that had a "General" Convention. The word "General," in common use at the time, indicated control over the whole, as opposed to "local" or "sectional." The OED helpfully notes its use for deliberative bodies, and provides an apposite citation from George Washington: "The States individually are omitting no occasion to intermeddle in matters which belong to the general government." There are also cites from Jay and Jefferson that indicate their understanding of "general" in this way as concerning the whole. So the clause, "There shall be a General Convention of this Church..." is sufficient in and of itself to establish the supremacy of that body in all matters affecting the whole church. Finally, it should be noted that the US Constitution also lacks an express clause denying the right of states to secede. South Carolina disagreed on that, too.

I commend the fulsome Memoirs of William White, who offers many helpful insights into the early years of the church, and what the founders thought they were doing when they created a body not of the Episcopal churches "of" the states, but of the Episcopal churches "in" the states -- which is to say, not a mere assemblage of independent bodies, but a "union" (their word) bound together organically and with a common central governance for all matters affecting the whole.

Doubtless when the term "sovereign" was used in some contexts in relation to the dioceses, it was to affirm that some powers are in fact exercised locally. But this is a very limited sort of "sovereignty" as it is of "independence."

It is surely to be hoped that the decision in South Carolina will be reversed.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Episcopal Translucency

The Joint Nominating Committee for the next Presiding Bishop has issued an interim report outlining some of the process by which they have proceeded. I remain bemused. I don't really understand why so many of the interim bodies, including the one on which I serve (the Task Force on the Study of Marriage), have felt the need to issue interim reports rather than to wait to issue the final report in what still is called "The Blue Book" but which was rarely blue even when it was a book. 

I don't find fault with the education material such groups have produced (including my own) and I found the Joint Nominating Committee's suite of three historical backgrounders helpful, as I hope some have found the resource on marriage, Dearly Beloved, to be of some help. But I am not amused by the sense of anxiety that continual updates and press releases need to be provided just to prove that these interim bodies are working on the tasks assigned to them.

I'm particularly bemused in the case of the nominating committee's progress reports as all that will matter is the final list of their nominees. There will be ample time to chew over that list, and there will be opportunity to offer other nominations if one's favorite was omitted. It seems that the need for what amounts to constant "information" (which really isn't) that has overtaken the 24-hour news cycle has bred a need to blather and comment.

We seem, as a church, to demand full but offer partial transparency, and to embrace an unhealthy obsession with process rather than clear evaluation of results. This produces a kind of unhelpful translucency that is less informative than opacity, and in the long run about as useful. It is the "form" of information without the "content" — much like the punditry of much of 24-hour "news."

I'm a long-time fan of the old management model DDAE: Discuss, Decide, Act, Evaluate. It is in that last step, Evaluation, that I think the Episcopal Church is at its weakest, and it undermines the beginning of the next cycle of Discussion. We seem constantly to be reinventing wheels rather than going anywhere. (I have been through enough rounds of "Where should '815' be?" to feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.)

So let's think about putting more effort into evaluation of results. That will help to inform the next round of discussion, leading to decision, and then one hopes, action.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Jumping the Gun?

There is a press report that the Presiding Bishop has accepted Mark Lawrence's renunciation of ministry in The Episcopal Church.

While I believe that Mark Lawrence has abandoned the communion of The Episcopal Church, I do not think he has renounced his ministry, at least in the manner laid out by Canon III.12.7, which requires a written declaration to the Presiding Bishop expressing a “desire to be removed.”

I think that rather than jumping the gun, and taking actions and speeches as if they met the formal requirements of the Canon, the process of dealing with the abandonment should have been followed to the letter. Lawrence's November 17 speech — and other actions — obviously do not constitute "a good faith retraction" of those things that led to the charge of abandonment, which is what he could have done in the 60-day period to reverse course. But continuing on the same course does not transform abandonment into renunciation under either the letter or spirit of the law.

Haste is not our friend.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

UPDATE: An additional problem is that “renunciation of the Doctrine, Discipline or Worship of the Church” — which constitutes abandonment under Title IV — is not the same thing as “renunciation of the Ordained Ministry” under Title III. I think it is clear that Lawrence has done the former, but it is not at all clear he has done the latter — in the form set out in the Canon, that is, by a written statement to that effect. There has been no canonically formal, “You can't fire me, I quit.”

Maxims on Diocesan Separation

That a diocese may have been an independent entity prior to its entry into union with The Episcopal Church is no more relevant to an asserted right to separate than that a husband was single before he married.

There is no provision in the Constitution of The Episcopal Church for the independence or separation of domestic dioceses from union with the Church.

Dioceses are not sovereign in that they are legally incapable of obtaining their own bishop absent the cooperation and consent of the rest of the Church.

A diocese cannot even divide itself without the consent of General Convention.

And that's enough for now.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Taking a Constitutional

Prior to the recently ended session of the General Convention, a few fringe voices had been raised contesting the constitutionality of provisions of Title IV of the Canons. Since the Convention, similar, if not identical, voices have been raised questioning the constitutionality of the liturgy for the blessing of a same-sex covenanted relationship.

Let me address the latter first. The bulk of Article X refers to alterations of and additions to the Book of Common Prayer, and for authorization of trial use to that end. The explicit proviso at the end of the Article allows the Bishops to take order for other forms in accordance with the rubrics -- the principal of which is the rubric on page 13, which deals with the question of additional rites directly.

In addition to [the Daily Office and Holy Eucharist] and the other rites contained in this Book, other forms set forth by authority within this Church may be used.

This includes the Book of Occasional Services, Lesser Feasts and Fasts, and more recent supplementary liturgical material such as those in the Enriching our Worship series. It also includes the liturgy approved at this past Convention by an overwhelming majority in both Houses, for the blessing of a life-long covenant. This liturgy is not in conflict with the BCP, any more than a liturgy for the blessing of a battleship would be. The fact that the BCP does not refer to such blessings is not in itself a limiting factor, nor does this blessing liturgy in any way conflict with or alter the forms in the BCP. It is a supplemental rite making provision for something the BCP does not address -- which is the nature of a supplement. By Constitutional definition, the limit upon authorized rites is respected, and with the proviso of local episcopal approval, these rites may be used as of authority in this church, equally as much as the rites I have enumerated above. Some bishops will decline or refuse to permit the use of this new rite -- this is what renders it provisional, and they will be within their competence to act in this way.

Questions of constitutionality have been referred to the Standing Commission on Constitution and Canons. In the past they have been reluctant to rule on Constitutionality as beyond the ambit of their role, but in accordance with Canon I.1.2.n.3.v they have by resolution C116 been charged to take up the question. The opinions of canon lawyers (and others) on both sides will no doubt be considered in their deliberations.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Storms and Structure

First, an observation on yesterday’s Gospel: the disciples rock the boat as much as the storm and they forget that Jesus’ presence with them, even sleeping, should be a blessed assurance through the storm and the night.

Second, application: it seems to me that a kind of manic panic has set in at the governing level of our church. From an Executive Council that doesn’t have the time to discuss important issues and frame a coherent budget, to battling proposals that seem more intent on the deck chair arrangement than on the reported mishap down below -- or is it on the bridge? -- and focus only on what is happening at 815 or GC sessions instead of the life of the church in its growing edges and root-tips; we seem to forget that though the church is not immune to the realities of politics and polity, that is not its primary goal or mode of living and working.

So my appeal, brothers and sisters, is that of Jesus, “Peace, be still.” Most importantly, can we focus on actual proposals and legislation free from any attributions of motive or power-play, and judge them on their merits? Could we take a breath , count to ten, and refocus our attention from the ad hominem to the substance of the tasks actually at hand, with less of a sense of urgency and panic and apocalyptic? Think for a moment about just how much the decisions on the budget, and the resolutions of General Convention will touch your parish, or your ministry, for good or ill. Stop trying to solve all the problems and save the world. Jesus did that already. He is asleep in the stern. We can do our part to assist in that ministry and mission, but our efficiency at that task is seriously encumbered by panic and busyness that accomplishes little work. Can we begin by trusting each other rather than assuming the worst? Can we approach our work as colleagues rather than as adversaries?

On the other hand...

I think we are right not to trust “the institution.” It is in the institution that the powers and principalities lurk — as the late, great Walter Wink reminded us. Whatever ill lies in human hearts — even the ill that persuades us its intentions are good — is amplified by the institution.

My suggestion is that we trust each other, or at the very least start from a position of assuming good intentions. And even at that, I think the wise words, “Trust, but verify,” ring true. I by no means intend that we should curtail the debate — just that we should be debating the actual issues, not the personalities or alleged agendas of those who advance one position or another.

That being said, there are the practical problems of our system, and this is where some restructuring is in order. I’ve been around long enough to remember when Executive Council was blind-sided and manipulated in the financial area much to our corporate detriment.

So I think another wise saying is apposite: Measure twice, cut once. We seem instead to have a proliferation of budget cuts being proposed, but some very dicey measurements on which to base them, particularly on the income side. I would not want to live in a house constructed on such a regimen.

One of my concerns is that the Executive Council has too many committees that seem to me to duplicate the work of a number of the standing committees and commissions of the church. This takes them away from their principal work, which I regard as being the Board of Directors of the corporation arm of The Episcopal Church. As a practical matter, as I look at restructuring, this is an area ripe for change. This goes against the proposal to do away with the other committees and commissions or trim them back and let Executive Council do more. I think that is a mistake. I’d be very happy to see the Executive Council focus on administration and let the other busy bodies concentrate more on Mission and Ministry issues. It seems to me that’s what a wise Board of Directors would do.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

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Resource for Polity

Shared Governance: The Polity of the Episcopal Church is now available from Church Publishing and Google Books (with preview) and is making its way into the hands of Deputies to the upcoming General Convention.

The volume is a collection of essays by members of the House of Deputies Special Study Committee on Church Governance and Polity, appointed by President of the House Bonnie Anderson after the 2009 General Convention. I had the pleasure to be the chair of the committee and to work with the members to produce this resource. The essays cover the history and theology that underlies a system of church governance in which decision-making and implementation is shared among all church members, lay and ordained, at every level from the parish to the General Convention. Essays focus on the two Houses of the General Convention, their origin, structure, and interaction; on the role of the presiding officers of each House, and how their offices have changed and evolved since their creation; and on the Executive Council and the other committees, commissions, agencies and boards that function in the periods between sessions of the General Convention. There is also a brief essay on the wider Communion and Church.

The collection is intended specifically as an educational and reflection tool for Deputies to the General Convention, and offers a number of insights particularly geared to their work; however, any Episcopalian wanting to be better informed about how and why our church came to function in the way it does will find the essays helpful. Throughout the collection, effort has been made to provide an accurate perspective for the reader, and to dispel or correct some of the prevailing mythology concerning the origins and practice of our shared governance.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Both Your Houses

Should General Convention be Unicameral?

I’ve commented before on the rumblings abroad concerning the “restructuring The Episcopal Church” — which usually means restructuring the budget or the staff at “815.” I would like to set those issues aside for a moment and look at one way of restructuring General Convention itself. I launch into this in part because Bishop Provenzano floated the notion a short while ago, and it is one about which I have also reflected in the past: should we merge the separate Houses of Bishops and Deputies into a unicameral synod?

First of all let me define my model a bit more carefully, to avoid at least one of the objections I’ve heard: Bishops, clergy and lay deputies would sit in their diocesan deputations, have full freedom of debate, and all matters other than the merely procedural would be decided by a majority vote in each order. (This is not the same as our current “vote by orders and dioceses” — which is even more stringent. If it is desired to maintain that as an additional requirement for the same questions now requiring it, it is easily maintained.) The use of electronic voting could make this almost instantaneous, as it has been for the Deputies in the past (depending on the system used.) The requirement of a majority in each order (as is the norm in many other synods) is to forestall the concern that a sudden influx of bishops might overwhelm the assembly — something I think unlikely in any case, but this does provide a safeguard.

There are several advantages to this proposal, not least of which is the efficiency of being able to hold single votes on all matters rather than the separate votes in each house now required. Another thing this proposal would avoid is the occasional “improvement” of a resolution in one house in a way not supported by (and already debated and defeated) in the other.

On a more positive note, a unicameral house would actually embody our theology of ministry and order, which holds that all persons, lay and ordained, have a role in governance. It would better allow all to hear the wisdom and reflection of each particular perspective. Cutting the bishops off from the laity and clergy is not good for any of them — and we benefit greatly in hearing each other. A unicameral body would reflect the ideal of the church as gathered community.

We already have limited experience of unicameral work: General Convention sits as a single body to hear the presentation of the budget; and the legislative committees of each house, which up until about a generation ago met separately, have been meeting together (but voting by house) for the last several years, to very good effect in terms both of the efficiency and utility of hearings and deliberation.

So much for the benefits. Let me cite some of the objections I’ve heard to this sort of proposal and offer my response:

This departs from our original structure modeled on the Federal legislature.

General Convention does not in fact model the structure of Congress in its most significant aspect, a balance between the houses of Congress of proportional and unitary representation of the several states. The House of Deputies is not proportional, and the House of Bishops only circumstantially so, to the extent that a larger or wealthier diocese might be able to have a suffragan or two. A look at early history shows an even more surprising distinction: the two houses were not intended as equal bodies at the outset. In the original Constitution of The Episcopal Church, provision was made that until there were three bishops they would sit with their deputations in a single house, and only after there were at least three as a separate “house of revision” without the right to originate or definitively veto legislation. It is true that the two houses eventually gained the ability to originate and overrule the other house’s action (by non-concurrence) but this in effect undercuts the need for a separate house, since both do the same thing now. The notion of the bishops as a separate council of elder kibitzers (as originally conceived) was, as original intents go, far from the model of the US Senate and what the House of Bishops eventually became.

Won’t the assembly be even larger than the present House of Deputies, and unwieldy in terms of debate?

Even if every bishop, including retired bishops, were to attend the sessions of General Convention, and all deputations remain at the current maximum of eight deputies, the assembly or synod would only be about the size of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America “Churchwide” governing body, which at its last session had 1,025 members. This might be the time to consider changing the size of deputations to three lay and three clergy members, and restrict the voting bishops to those still in active ministry — or even more only to diocesans, as is the custom in some synods — but those are really separate issues that have to be argued on their own merits. However, the time saved in not having duplicative debates on the house floor would give more time for extended joint (now truly joint) legislative hearings, where much of the real work of Convention is done.

Don’t the bishops have some things to do that only concern them?

There are a few duties the bishops exercise on their own, and it would certainly be possible for them to arrive a day early to deal with that agenda, or defer such actions to their interim gatherings — which it would likely be wise to continue on an annual basis in order to encourage episcopal collegiality. Having met in a unicameral General Convention might help remind the bishops that their authority to act apart from that body is considerably circumscribed.

Will the clergy in particular feel comfortable speaking in opposition to their bishop?

This seems to me to be a real concern, and all I can say is that I would hope the clergy would feel confident in doing this — or perhaps more confident than they would in their own diocesan conventions. As a very public forum every speaker would be on the spot to speak their mind without fear of reprisal, and the courage to do so would be to the betterment of the church. Giving in to fear seems not a good reason not to grow into a more mature ability to speak one’s views in the body of the people.

Who would chair the meetings? What would happen to the President of the House of Deputies?

I suggest this adjustment to the structure: the Presiding Bishop (to be elected by the whole synod and not just the bishops with the consent of the deputies) would remain as President and Chair;anelected Vice-President, always to be of the lay or clerical order, would take the chair to spell the President, much as is done now with the House of Deputies; we would retain a Secretary of the General Convention and a Secretary of the House of Bishops (the latter for their separate meetings, also assigned, as was originally the case with the Secretary of the House of Deputies before it had its own VP, to take the chair in the absence of the PB).

So that’s a proposal I think worth examining. What do you think?

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Thought for 5-6-12

The argument that The Episcopal Church isn't hierarchical because the Constitution and Canons do not use certain code words is rather like the argument of those who rejected the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity because homoousion doesn't appear in Scripture.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Restructuring the Church

I had the chance (and the bandwidth) late last week to view the  presentation by the Presiding Bishop and Bishop Stacy Sauls, concerning the restructuring of the church, and "becoming" a Domestic and Foreign Missiionary Society. I have a couple of thoughts on its strengths, possibilities and weaknesses.

I applaud the effort to look at changes to the structure of the church to empower mission. That includes streamlining, reallocating, and so on. I think a lot of change is needed, and have my own ideas about where that could happen.

But I think there were gaps in the presentation that need to be filled, as well as more of the clarity in distinguishing which structures we are talking about. The General Convention and its interim bodies, and the staff at 815 Second Avenue and in other satellite locations, are not the same thing; and the mission of the church is broader still. The Episcopal Church is not one monolithic, unified structure, and portraying it as a pyramid with General Convention at the top is hardly an accurate picture. It might be true in terms of governance, but clearly not in terms of mission. And I don't think that is a bad thing.

First and foremost, the idea of organizing the Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society was not to found a centrally based or governed mission agency, but on the contrary precisely to empower every member of the church as a missionary in person. I have never thought of General Convention as "missionary" -- any more than I would think of Congress as "military" -- General Convention is there to govern the church, and to direct and serve the mission; as is the staff at 815 (what PB John Maury Allin called and modeled as a "service center"); and all those interim bodies are there to do the same. But the mission is primarily carried out by the members of the church working as individuals and in coordination with others in their parishes and dioceses. (Just as the army carries out the policies of the government but is distinct from the government.)

Second, we need to be very clear about what we mean by mission. The BCP has a definition of mission, summed up in three questions and answers on page 855.

Q. What is the mission of the Church?
A. The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.

Q. How does the Church pursue its mission?
A. The Church pursues its mission as it prays and worships, proclaims the Gospel, and promotes justice, peace, and love.

Q. Through whom does the Church carry out its mission?
A. The Church carries out its mission through the ministry of all its members.

These answers do a number of things. The first places mission in a theological as well as a human context. That is, it is about people, but it is also about God. The second prevents us thinking that worship and proclamation are not just as much mission as the soup kitchen is. The third makes it clear that all of the members of the church are called and equipped to carry forward this mission.

It seems, therefore, odd to talk, as the presentation does, primarily about the national budget, while ignoring the billions of dollars raised and spent by the parishes -- only alluded to in the presentation -- when talking about the proportion of money spent on mission. The proportion of our "Gross Episcopal Product" spent on mission is substantial -- as we have to include the salaries of the missioners, the maintenance of the places in which we worship, and so on. It is deadly dangerous, and verges on a kind of missionary gnosticism, to forget that the cost of running a parish is a crucial part of its mission. Seek economies, by all means, but let us not say to the foot, I have no need of you!

One of the major problems in how people think of mission, it seems to me, is revealed in the commonly inverted understanding of Matthew 25 -- as if the mission of the church was identical with the works of mercy described there (which is not to say the church shouldn't do them, under the Golden Rule). But the text is not about the ministry or mission of the disciples, but about ministries performed (or not) to the disciples by those to whom the disciples went on mission. Matthew meant this passage as a comfort to the disciples as they were sent on their way to the "nations" -- not as a job description for the disciples' task, but as a comfort to them and a warning to those who would be on the receiving end of their mission to "baptize all nations" --- and let us remember that was the ultimate "mission of God." (It is odd in our present day that some are second guessing the importance of baptism as the essential and first sacramental mission of the church, leaping right to communion as if the radically transforming death to self in baptism were not essential in order fully to share in the communion Christ desires for us -- the accomplishment of the mission.)

In other words, the mission of the church is about much more than ministries of social service -- which is not to denigrate social service, but to see that it grows out of, but is not identical to, the unifying mission of the church. I have known congregations that become "doughnut churches" where much energy is spent on outreach, but there is no center or heart, and the energy is quickly expended and the parish is on the verge of collapse. Ultimately, the Matthew passage raises another important distinction: that between mission and ministry. They are related, but they are not the same. Much of what is done by the staff of the Episcopal Church Center is service; ministry rather than mission.

In the long run I think the PB and Bishop Sauls are onto some good things, but I fear that the focus on GC and 815 -- important as that is -- misses where the mission is most ably happening. I would like to see GC and 815 leaner and more effective in serving that mission, and to the extent that this is their aim, Amen, and again I say, Amen!

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

No Way to Run...

Every time I come upon the passage from the 24th chapter of Acts (appointed for the Daily Office today) I am reminded of the resonance between references to the early church as “the Way” to the Rabbinic concept of Halakah: the law as a Way in which one walks.

This struck me particularly this morning because I have been thinking a great deal about the dangers of ideology, and how an ideology or a theory (properly understood as a “way of seeing”) can actually prevent one from seeing a deeper reality. The phenomenon is known as “perceptual set” in some circles, “paradigm blindness” in others. Put briefly, the way you see the world can come to dominate what you see. I referred in an earlier post to the old saying, “If your only tool is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” If as Thomas Kuhn suggests, we need a shift in our paradigms in order to see changes in reality, it seems to me that across the board in many areas of our lives we need a whole new shift-load of paradigms!

For both in church and state these days ideology is at the forefront and reality has become deeply shrouded in veils of preconception. From conversations on climate change to sexuality, the debt crisis to marriage equality, the verbiage — I cannot in good conscience call it conversation for the most part — appears to be dominated by ideologies and theories rather than fact. (I cannot be the only one who is appalled to see what has become of journalism these days: and there are times I long for a supply of bricks next to my easy chair to toss through the television screen when a “news” program cuts from an actual live speech by a world leader to a panel of pundits even before the speech is finished!) Whatever reality there may be is cocooned in layers of opinion, and there is no sign of a butterfly emerging. Not a chrysalis, but a mummy.

But back to Saint Paul and the rabbis, and this idea of the faith being a “way” — and of course acknowledging that the Jewish tradition had long understood various “ways” as being either wicked or good, depending. (See Psalm 1!)

The major contrast I want to note is the difference between a way and a place. In this case I am particularly thinking about how Paul’s alleged insult to the Temple (in fact baseless) led to his having to defend this new Way. And what is ironic is that the old Way of rabbinic Halakah itself turned out to be the means by which this form of Judaism was able to survive the destruction of the Temple — a Temple which God appears, from the early record, not actually to have wanted all that much; God preferring the Tent and Tabernacle, or the terrifying Chariot, to the petrified establishment on the hill of Zion. (Ezekiel sees a new Temple, Revelation assures us there is no Temple in the New Jerusalem. Take your pick.)

So it appears to me that Christianity itself could well be seen as an emergent non-Temple-based Judaism (among the many Judaisms of the first century) that gets detached and takes on a life of its own; much as rabbinic (rather than Temple) Judaism continued the life of that faith because it had come to see the living out of the Way of God was not dependent upon an external institution but an internalized (both individually and corporately) Way of life under the guidance of a transcendent God.

So does this have anything to say to our current ecclesiastical troubles — say, in relation to a proposed Anglican Covenant or the Indaba Process as “ways” of working? Or to our civic, national, or international concerns — government as institution or government as way of being?

Discuss among yourselves and report back!

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

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The Covenant Crisis

As I have noted previously, I find myself poised somewhere between the two extremes of the Anglican Covenant debate. At one end are those who appear to think that not only is no agreement needed, but that the very idea of pan-Anglican governance is inimical to our identity as Anglicans. At the other extreme are those who appear to think that the AngCov is not merely the best way forward but the only way forward to settle the disputes that have raged through the Communion over the last two decades or so.

I find myself much more inclined towards the former than to the latter. In fact, I find the latter position not only to be facially absurd — if the member provinces of the Communion cannot agree on the Covenant itself, it cannot very well be the basis or means for subsequent agreement — but contradictory to the historical evidence, and arguably misguided as a way forward even were there signs of widespread willingness to move in such a direction.

The latter view is well typified by this comment from the Rev’d Dr. Alyson Barnett-Cowan, Director for Unity, Faith and Order in the Anglican Communion Office.

It’s become quite clear that if we’re to be a global church, we need something that expresses how we live together as a family.

One of the good things about this thesis is that it recognizes — by expressing it as a goal — that the Anglican Communion is not “a global church.” So what is it? It is “a fellowship of autonomous churches.” This fact raises two questions: 1) what is autonomy? And 2) is autonomy circumstantial or essential to Anglicanism?

The meaning of autonomy

Autonomy means self-governance. In the Anglican usage it is really more like its political equivalent “sovereignty.” When a church is autonomous it means that there is no “superior synod” to which it is answerable. (Mark McCall has argued just the opposite, on the basis of political double-speak that refers to “autonomous regions” within some larger governing structure — but it is double-speak I am attempting to clear away, and there is no need for the church to ape the duplicity of the state! “Conditional autonomy” belongs in the category with “partial virginity” and, as Groucho observed, “military intelligence.”)

One of the catchphrases of the AngCov debate has been the Windsor Report’s, “Communion is the limit of autonomy.” I reflected on this at length almost three years ago, and my views have not changed since. My point is that if autonomy is limited then it isn’t autonomy. Even if it is merely voluntary self-censorship, it is precisely submission to a heteronomous influence.

My sense is that all of this is the heritage of the liberal knee-jerk reaction to past colonialism adopted at the Toronto Congress in 1963 under the mealy-mouthed term mutual responsibility and interdependence. “Mutual responsibility” I can certainly buy — no church is an island, as John Donne might observe were he around to participate in our current discussions. But “interdependence?” While “responsibility” carries with it some idea of gifts, “interdependence” is far too needy a term. This is not to say, with anti-Pauline brusqueness, “I have no need of you.” Rather it is to acknowledge the reality that while the various churches can learn from each other and work together with each other, the idea that we “depend” on each other is both a historical and logical fallacy.

Circumstance or essence?

Which brings me to the second question. The Church of England’s assertion of autonomy from the Church of Rome is not a mere historical accident. The sense of national autonomy was passed down to all of the daughter churches arising from the English colonial and imperial adventures, and the further granddaughters borne by those churches. As I noted in my previous post on this subject, so keen were the English to keep the American church separate from them, that they forbade (by Act of Parliament) the newly consecrated American bishops White and Provoost, and anyone they would consecrate or ordain, from ever functioning within his Majesty’s dominions. (Obviously this Act of Parliament was either repealed or ignored at some point.) This sense of autonomy was so powerful that it led to the formation of a separate Protestant Episcopal Church of the Confederate States of America at the time of the Civil War — a new entity created with some sense of regret at the necessity in the South and utterly ignored in the Union and the General Convention.

I have written before about the practical advantage of autonomy — it allows for provincial testing of contextual developments in discipline and worship and for their gradual reception or rejection by other provinces. (Such developments have happened at a slower pace in the past, and much of the tension in the Communion in our time is no doubt due to the rapid increase in the pace of communication and almost instant reactivity.) Autonomy is the safeguard both of local privilege of development and local insulation from foreign developments judged unacceptable. As I have noted time and again, no other province is forced or even expected to adopt what they regard as innovations in any other province, and autonomy is the bulwark against such pressures, if they are perceived to exist. The true statement is: Autonomy is the limit of communion interference.

Globalism as a confusion with Communion

The Anglican Communion is not a “global church” and I don’t want it to become one, for the very reason that such globalism will stifle the greatest gift Anglicanism offers to world Christendom (and if we have nothing to offer why do we exist?) — autonomy in diversity in a fellowship of churches who are not bound by each other’s local decisions.

This is a different model to the Roman, the church which “subsists” in the college of bishops in union with the heir of Peter. It is more like than unlike the Orthodox model of autocephalous churches pledged to a common inheritance of liturgy and canon law, each Orthodox entity holding itself to be the local expression of the fullness of the whole church.

Anglicans have historically understood the national or provincial church in much the same way, though without the common canon law aspect. It might be helpful to apply to the church the same term the Anglican Founders applied to Scripture: sufficiency. Each national or provincial church is sufficient unto itself for its own maintenance. It does not require or depend upon any input from any other sister church, although it welcomes and celebrates its communion with the other members of the Anglican family. Unlike an individual diocese, which cannot create a successor to its own bishop without the input of the larger church body of which the diocese forms a part, the national church or province is sufficient and competent to its own maintenance.

Finally, the Anglican Communion is, as the good Canon observes, a family. Families do not, in fact, require a written document to govern their behavior with one another. A few basic ground-rules defending autonomy, rather than generating a specious interdependency, would not be bad. Lionel Deimel put together such a list a while back. Such rules, some of which go back to Nicaea, include respect for provincial boundaries, fidelity to the Creeds, Sacraments, and the sufficiency of Scripture for salvation. If we are to have a Covenant, let it be one that preserves what is best in what we have, rather than mooning after something we have never had, and likely don’t need.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

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Something to chew on

Anglicans and Orthodox agree that bishops do not form an apostolic college apart from and above the local churches. Bishops are an integral part of their respective churches. Such an understanding precludes any form of centralised universal episcopal jurisdiction standing apart from the local churches. [Furthermore] if conciliarity is one important complement of primacy, reception is another. Decisions of councils and primates need to be referred back to the local churches for their acceptance . . . . Such decisions must be received by the community in order to become authoritative. This fact reinforces the truth that bishops, including primates, are not independent of their local churches.” 

The Church of the Triune God: The Cyprus Agreed Statement of the International Commission for Anglican-Orthodox Theological Dialogue 2006. V. 21-23.

Emphasis added.

TSH+

Ungovernorable

The Diocese of South Carolina continues to traipse lightly down the garden path of surmised diocesan sovereignty — a notion that could not be further from catholic tradition if it tried, and plainly at odds both with history and canon. In addition to all of the things for which a diocese, its bishop and clergy, are answerable under the canons (gainsay them how they will), if we are to define a diocese as the “bishop, clergy and people in a given place,” then at this most fundamental level every diocese is beholden to the rest of the church in order to obtain a crucial element in that triumvirate: the bishop. (To say nothing of the need for the trio to be in union with some larger general church in order truly to be catholic — otherwise many a storefront church could claim to be a “diocese.” As I have observed in the past, the diocese is the “basic unit of the church” only in the sense that a brick is a unit in a building.)

But to return to my primary observation: no diocese can consecrate a bishop without the consent of a majority of all of the other dioceses (either meeting at General Convention or in the more diffuse times between its sessions; diocesan bishops functioning in both cases, but the deputies and standing committees taking the role in alternate performances.) And no new bishop can be confected by a single predecessor — the priest can only be rendered a bishop by the concerted action of at least three bishops. A diocese in isolation is thus not the church in its fullness; and if it remains alone, it is as fruitless as that unplanted grain of wheat, as it cannot pass on the apostolic succession apart from the collegial nature of the apostolic ministry. The diocese must die to itself, and be buried in the life-giving soil of the church, if it is to bear fruit in time to come. Those who seek to assert their sovereignty will lose it, but those who die to it will gain immeasurably.

Compare this to the actual sovereign status of the various states in choosing their leaders. Can you imagine the outcry were it to be suggested that every state’s governor, in order to be installed as such, required the consent of the majority of all the other governors, and a majority of the legislatures of all of the other states, or of congress? For those who, bemused by superficial resemblances, think the polity of the Episcopal Church is based on or mimics that of the Federal government, compare and contrast!

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

ps, blogging may be light, and comment approval slow as I will be away for the next week.

TSH

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Rowan's Job Description

Archbishop Williams' interview with the Times, portions of which have been cited hither and yon, portray the torture of attempting to abide by his Job description. He feels it is his task to hold the reins in keeping the carriage of the Anglican Communion from going up on the sidewalk or over the cliff, but without any apparent notion he might also take a decision as to how to steer by a particular course, even if it means taking an unlikely detour through unfamiliar byways. (The horses may well be wilder than even he imagines, and this may be an impossibility, but he appears to think it not in his scope even to try. Meanwhile, a few of the passengers have already jumped from the carriage, in a few cases with someone else's luggage). In another image, he says he does not want to put a thumb on the scale, casting himself as an honest butcher.

And so he is in the position of restraining his own perhaps deeply held theological beliefs in order to maintain a kind of status quo in keeping with the long-held views of others on the topic of sexuality. He attempts to tease out fine distinctions -- and they are distinctions, and they are fine -- between orientation and activity, between the fact of who one is as opposed to the choices one might make. He articulates the traditional POV with regard to the matters at hand, as if that tradition were in fact as uniform as some would like to portray it, and with no clue as to how his own thoughts on the subject might lead to developments in that very tradition. (Fans of Cardinal Newman, take note!)

In the Daily Office last week I was reminded of the tale of Esther, who came to a position in which she could influence for the good, not by keeping silent, but by stepping bravely forward to take advantage of the opportunity presented to her. Her uncle Mordecai warned her that her failure to do so would redound to her loss.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Thought for 09.22.10

The polity of the Episcopal Church is not that of a chain of command, but a network of service.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Of Starfish, Spiders, and People

This morning I listened to an NPR interview with Ori Brafman, author of The Starfish and the Spider:the Unstoppable Power of Leaderless Organizations. It got me thinking about how little I care about ideology. That is, I'm not one who goes for the starfish or the spider, the federation or the dictatorship, monarchy or democracy. Starfish are great at self-perpetuation and coral reef predation, but what else do they do? Spiders (at least some of them) build webs of astonishing intricacy. Both seem to be good at what they do.

But what about humans? People can be good or bad at governing themselves and other humans, and no system will guarantee a maximum best of all possible worlds. I reject the old saw that "democracy is a terrible form of government but better than all the others" simply on the facial evidence. There have been terrible, repressive, abusive and dehumanizing democracies; and there have been noble, righteous and humanizing monarchies.

In short, systems, as interesting as they may be, as important as they are, are not the answer. Those who put their hope in a system --- that if we just got it right --- all would be well, are fooling themselves with the dream of Utopia, which means nowhere.

I would start the Pragmatist Party if I thought starting a party would accomplish anything. But I know it would just be one more voice in the whirling storm. Yet it is ultimately how each human acts -- each human him or herself a form of government with a head and heart and hands -- that will produce the net effect of any society's worth.

And yet each one of us is living in the flesh the drama of coalescence and senescence and evanescence; each of us a little State soon subject to overthrow as the Monarch loses power, the Workers go on strike, the Resources are exhausted.

Vanity, all is vanity, saith the Preacher.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG