Holy Ghost in the Shell

A few weeks ago I noted that the recent CGI animated version of Astro Boy had made it to cable TV and decided to watch it. I did so largely out of nostalgia for the lo-res black and white (at least as far as I was concerned, given my family’s TV at the time) version from my childhood. I was in for a surprise on many counts. For although my childish capacity may have missed them in those early viewings, the recent film had many rewards to offer an adult. The film was both funnier and far more serious than I remember the old animés being, and it is the serious part upon which I would like to reflect.

Among the serious themes were the conflict between fathers and sons, class consciousness and stratification, ecology, good and evil (no surprise there!), the use of power, and above all the question, “What does it mean to be human?” For Astro is a robot, something made not born —by the will of man but not of flesh and blood— taking his stand along with David from A.I. and their mutual progenitor Pinocchio, and their elder cousin Star Trek’s Data. All of them share the desire to be “real” — to be human, and you will pardon me if I say it is far more poignant in a child, even a CGI or animated child, than in an adult, though Data had his share of poignancy and wistful longing in pursuit of that enterprise.

Science fiction lends itself to this kind of speculation, which sometimes goes even farther afield. At a far step removed we have the fleshly efforts at anthropoesis, such as Dr. Frankenstein’s cut-and-paste Job, or his predecessor the Golem, animated to protect the ghetto. Neither of these is particularly childlike, nor successful at gaining, of even perhaps desirous of obtaining full humanity. As Dr. F’s benighted creature observes, "You live. We belong dead"; and it took only the elimination of the initial Aleph to move the Golem from animate emet (truth) to met (dead).

But even further from human likeness, I think of the tachikoma of the Japanese animé Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex. These spider-like and ungainly though surprisingly agile tanks would appear to be unlikely candidates for becoming human — so they press the envelope and force the question: can these bones live? They do have the voices of children, however, which begins to suggest their kinship with their brothers Astro, David, and Pinocchio. They also give us a clue that humanity is not necessarily about the form of the body but the content of the heart, and the ability not only to reason, but to love.

For as a subplot of the series, the tachikoma appear to be developing what the author calls “a ghost” — that is, what we might call “a soul.” And in an astounding episode, three of these “machines” choose to sacrifice themselves to save one of their human co-workers (himself a partly mechanical man). The sound of those three childlike voices embodied in dangerous and weapon-wielding tanks shouting out, “We have to save Mr. Batou!” as they rush to their own destruction still brings tears to my eyes. Yeah, I’m an old softy when it comes to this humanity stuff and “greater love hath no tachikoma...” And the same sort of thing happens to Astro, with similar poignancy, in his case as part of his effort to win back his “father’s” love. Bring a hanky.

So what does it mean to be human? We all trace our lives back to that first artificial human — you know, the one God made from clay. We all sense that we are called to be more than we are, and that we are not quite finished, not quite real yet. Perhaps this is more poignant when portrayed in a child because we recognize the connection between growing up to the full stature of humanity and simply growing up. We all have growing up to do.

May we all grow up into our full reality, as children of God.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

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Reactions and Intolerance

The Global South Bigwigs are hobnobbing in Bermuda, and reflecting on the state of the church and the world. In these reflections they make frequent direct and indirect reference to some of the difficulties plaguing their provinces, which they put down to the election and consecration of Bishop Robinson of New Hampshire, and the election and yet-to-be-accomplished consecration of Mary Glasspool of Los Angeles.

However, since none of these Bigwigs are required to consent to, tolerate, or even recognize either Robinson or Glasspool — and completely within their rights to forbid them the exercise of any ecclesiastical act within their borders whatsoever — one can only observe that any difficulties they experience are a direct result not of the American bishop and bishop-to-be, but of their own opposition to them.

The spring season's resurgence in the pollen count (exacerbated this year by early heavy rains) has put me in mind of an analogy. Pollen simply is. It serves a vital function in the propagation of many beautiful and essential plant species, as well as a few which, because of the inconvenience they cause to human beings, earn the label weeds. Some people are allergic to some of these pollens. The allergy lies entirely with them. They can take measures to avoid the pollen, and there are medications they can use to limit any eye, nose, or throat irritation they experience. They can rail at the pollen for this inconvenience and discomfort — but it is they who have the problem and they also who have the means to address it: which by no means includes ridding the world of pollen, much as they might like to do so.

In all this, I am suggesting that people need to take responsibility for their own negative feelings and reactions (and reactivity), and find positive ways to deal with them. For example, in places where news of these elections and consecrations has brought the local Anglican church into disrepute in the eyes of Muslims or Free-church Protestants, it is completely within the power of the local Anglicans to distance themselves from decisions taken halfway round the world, and of which they have every right to disapprove, and every right to ignore. (Whether this will mollify militant Muslims, or pacify petulant Protestants is another matter.)

But it makes no more sense to continue to blame the Episcopal Church, or especially to raise the spectre of colonialism or imperialism — as if the Episcopal Church were forcing these other provinces to accept its decisions — than it is for a lactose-intolerant person to blame lactose for her own intolerance of it. If it bothers you, don't drink it. No one is forcing you.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Words and Music

The more I read essays from all quarters on the subject of Christian marriage, as various folks attempt (as I have myself attempted) to expound a theology (or at least a Christian anthropology) to account for this almost universal human phenomenon, the more I get the feeling that we are humming a tune for which we have forgotten the words.

While some play with distinctions between covenant and contract, I think we would do well to expend more time with words better suited to the music we sense deep within us: words like holiness and blessing, gift and grace, and above all, Love.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Saving the Papacy

It may be that the only way to save the papacy at this point is for the present pontiff to engage in the moral equivalent of the Gang nach Canossa undertaken in an earlier age towards his predecessor. It is a reversal of roles, but reversal is what repentance is all about.

If you don't know what the papacy needs saving from, check this out. It is more relevant now even than when written.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Quick Evaluation

Whatever good has come of the existence of the Anglican Communion (and I think there is much good to which to point), it has not been because of the so-called Instruments of Communion, but from the bi- and tri- and sometimes quad- and more-lateral relationships of individual provinces and national churches, and in some cases dioceses and parishes — and the Instruments have only been of positive effect when they have aided and supported those processes.

The Instruments exist to serve, not to rule.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Loser Take All

Virginia Theological Seminary has published an article by James Baker. Yes, that James Baker. I'm always wary of people who say, "I'm not an expert in X, but it seems to me..." This articles gives me no reason to lose my wariness. In it, Baker suggests something like a kind of congregational polity for handling differences of opinion in The Episcopal Church, whereby individual parishes could officially vote on things they [mostly] don't like about what the rest of the church has done through General Convention.

Why is it that proposals like this for "local option" always seem to come up when the church is moving in a progressive direction, but are shunned like the dickens when more conservative folks hold sway. Compare the appeal for the Port St. Lucie "Conscience Clause" with the ardent critique of "local option" on same-sex blessings, par example. (I'll note this doesn't seem to happen only in the church: the state provides ample evidence of similar tendencies. Maybe it is just that conservatives -- sacred or secular -- can't bear to be in the minority?)

Baker's proposal seems to me merely to formalize (and set in concrete) more or less what we already have de facto in terms of the prevailing issue, anyway (which is the issue Baker uses to frame the proposal): i.e., no parish is forced to call a gay or lesbian priest, or perform a same-sex blessing. There are many dioceses in which neither will happen for quite some time. Should the day come when parishes are actually required so to do, it will only be because in the course of time opposition has so far dwindled that any "vote" such as Baker proposes would produce the same result. Just how much does a democratic institution have to allow a local veto to joint decisions -- at least in the official and formal way Baker suggests?

In short, I think the system we have now provides for an ample degree of laissez-faire and toleration of moderate dissent without institutionalizing it, setting it in stone, and creating a Balkanized Church. And let's be frank once again: the problem isn't that a portion of Episcopalians don't like gay or lesbian bishops or couples getting blessed and don't want to have to deal with them. The problem is that a portion of Episcopalians don't want there to be any gay or lesbian clergy, far less, bishops, or same-sex marriages. They want what they want, for everyone. So it is not a question of laissez-faire not working, but the desire of a minority to have their way not just for themselves, but for the whole Episcopal Church -- and when they cannot achieve this through the canonical structures of General Convention it is a case of "loser take all."

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
begging pardon for taking off the gloves for a bit...

Thought for 04.06.10

To what extent do the exponents of Natural Law mistakenly "worship the creature rather than the creator" (Rom. 1.25) and "conform themselves to this world?" (Rom. 12.2)

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
suggesting that some should re-read Romans with an eye to Pauline irony

No To Imperium

Jesus Christ did not suffer and die for the sake of a centrally administered eccelesiastical institution. Nor was this what he conceived; quite the opposite, as he alerted his disciples to the danger of exercising authority over one another. Christ desired no Empire.

The Church, the Body of Christ, is not One because it has one central government, but because Christ himself is One Lord. He is the Head of the whole Church of which all who are joined in the One Baptism are members.

It is a terrible thing to see Anglicans even consider forsaking the hard-won liberation from heteronomous rule, in a massive retrograde motion towards that which is demonstrably dysfunctional in its present incarnation, the relic of an ancient capitulation to imperial pretense.

For it is precisely in areas of administration and discipline that big ungainly systems tend to go awry, and resist correction. Since all humans err from time to time, the surest safeguard both for limiting the extent of error and avoiding becoming too set in error is to bound the limits up to which any given authority can command submission to its rule. Diversity will not guarantee a firm or universal hold on truth (or even virtue) by all but it increases the chances that at least some will be right and righteous, rather than all stumbling and erring together.

Autonomy is not the enemy of fellowship. It is its precondition: for only the mature and independent can choose voluntarily to enter into relationships of interdependence and truly mutual submission. Otherwise it is dependence or codependency, or at its worst, tyranny or lordship of one over another, or over many.

Christ had no wish to see his Church become a shadow of some royal curia, full of intrigue and denial. Anglicans, do not trade the sublime vision of a communion of autonomous churches in fellowship for such a kingdom of shreds and patches.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Thought for 03.31.10

Church growth in the midst of persecution is not "extraordinary." It is the norm. And that goes for churches being persecuted and doing the persecution. And in both cases the growth often has little staying power.

It's a funny old world.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
in response to repeated unexamined praising of the "extraordinary" growth of the church in places facing persecution

The Ladder of Humility

Palm Sunday 2010 -- "He took the form of a slave..."
A sermon by Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

MP3 File

Hymn to the Virgin

Hymn to the Virgin from the Celestial Rose, from Dante's Paradiso, Canto XXXIII. Saint Bernard of Clairvaux sings:


«Vergine Madre, figlia del tuo figlio,
umile e alta più che creatura,
termine fisso d’etterno consiglio,

tu se’ colei che l’umana natura
nobilitasti sì, che ’l suo fattore
non disdegnò di farsi sua fattura.

Nel ventre tuo si raccese l’amore,
per lo cui caldo ne l’etterna pace
così è germinato questo fiore.


Translation
Virgin Mother, daughter of you Son,
Humble and high beyond creature,
Fixed limit of the eternal counsel,

You are she who so ennobled human nature
that the Creator did not disdain
to make of it his maker.

Within your womb was rekindled
the love by whose heat, in eternal peace,
thus was germinated this flower.

(The Flower is the celestial rose which is constituted from the company of saints themselves...)

This was recorded in rehearsal, the only recording I have, sadly. Sung by the Choir of St Luke in the Fields, with the cellist of the St Luke's Chamber Ensemble. William Entriken, Organist.

Pardon the poor quality of the tape.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

MP3 File

The sheet music is available at Scribd.

Thought for 03.24.10

The Devil Prowls

While Jesus wills that the members of the church should be one, even as he and the Father are one (John 17:11), that likeness to God is not "something to be grasped at" (Phil 2:6) but is rather a gift from God. (2 Cor 5:18) We do not achieve unity, we accept it as we are reconciled to one another by God in Christ.

Otherwise, to seek on our own to become like God, we fall prey to something like the primal temptation from the Garden (Gen 3:5), though in form rather than knowledge.

Rather, let us accept that we are one in God through God, through the love which comes from God and transcends and encompasses and comprehends our divisions; not through our own machinations — and above all not through the reduction of our number in a mode of false unity by division and expulsion and judgment: the unity not of God, but of the Adversary.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

A Covenant Haiku

seeking to be one
they cease to be what they are
and become nothing

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
with proper credit to The Parmenides, and the good people of Babel

Is My Communion Leaving Me?

One of the rationales given by some who have parted fellowship with the Episcopal Church over the last few years is summed up in the sentence, "I didn't leave the church; the church left me." While I find the rationale less than compelling (and far less than exculpatory in those cases where it has led to bad behavior) there is some truth to the claim: there have been a number of fundamental changes in the Episcopal Church over the last 50 years. Just as there have been fundamental changes in the church as a whole over the last 2000 years.

A sea-change seems to be afoot in the Anglican Communion, at least as it is being urged in some circles — and a sea-change being afoot is not a very good idea unless you can walk on water. This change is summed up neatly in Canon Michael Poon's recent essay on the Anglican Covenant, in which he sees its particular utility in providing "a canonical structure that unites the Churches of the Communion to be "Church". (¶ 54)

Transforming the Anglican Communion in this way marks a fundamental change in its polity — which from the beginning has stressed the autonomy and integrity of individual national or provincial churches: with strong resistance to meddling by bishops from other churches. Whether one approves of this change or not, it is important to note that it is a significant change.

The parallel with changes within a national church, and the dissatisfaction that breeds in some, breaks down almost immediately, however. For the changes within the Episcopal Church (with which some have taken issue) were undertaken with and through the canonical mechanisms already in existence: no new entity was created or granted power in order to adopt and ratify these changes by majority action and due process —at least not since 1789 when the Episcopal Church gained its constitutional form, and at that time stressed its continuity with the traditions it inherited from England, including the importance of the autonomy of the national church enshrined in the Articles of Religion.

The change to the structure of Anglicanism that Poon reads into the Anglican Covenant (whether it is really there or not is another matter) is dramatic, and false to this rootstock of Anglican identity. While I am not opposed to some formalization of relationships within the Anglican Communion, or even some spelled-out rules of procedure for addressing difficulites which might arise between the members of that "fellowship of autonomous churches" (which is my most generous reading of the proposed Covenant), I have absolutely no wish to be part of a "world church" with a central command. I would truly hate to see the essence of Anglicanism boiled away, and the remainder reduced to a mess of pottage that is not even a good imitation of Rome.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Early Annunciation for Another Mary

Word has come from the Presiding Bishop's office that sufficient episcopal and standing committee consents have been received for the ordination of Mary Glasspool to the episcopate in mid-May. Many will rejoice at this, myself included, but many also will be troubled — and I feel for them as well. Change is often difficult, and I know many will be wounded in their conscience, or concerned for possible consequences, even as others give thanks and celebrate.

I am reminded of a passage concerning Mary the Mother of our Lord, from the Protoevangelium of James (17:2):

Joseph and Mary drew near unto Bethlehem, within three miles: and Joseph turned himself about and saw her of a sad countenance and said within himself: "Peradventure that which is within her paineth her." And again Joseph turned himself about and saw her laughing, and said unto her: "Mary, what aileth thee that I see thy face at one time laughing and at another time sad?" And Mary said unto Joseph: "It is because I behold two peoples with mine eyes, the one weeping and lamenting and the other rejoicing and exulting."

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

God of Love or Logic?

SJF • Lent 4c 2010 • a sermon by Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
The son came to himself and said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough to spare, but here I am dying of hunger!”

The Parable of the Prodigal Son is one of the great, memorable passages of the Gospel, familiar even to many who may never crack the pages of a Bible — it was even made into a ballet with music by Prokofiev, first performed in Paris by the Ballet Russe in 1929, and at the New York City Ballet many times since!

But in spite of how familiar it is, this parable still bears our close attention, as our familiarity can cause us to miss details revealed by taking more time with it.

We’ve just heard it, so I won’t repeat the story. But I want to remind you of where it comes in the Gospel of Luke. This will help us to understand who Jesus is speaking to, and what he is getting at, why he told the parable, and what he means by it.

The fifteenth chapter of Luke begins with Jesus teaching and preaching, and tax collectors and sinners are gathering round eagerly to hear him, like people starving and thirsting for a gracious and generous word. The Pharisees and scribes, with their focus on salvation through personal propriety and righteous observance of the law, grumble among themselves and tsk-tsk that “this fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” In response to these clucking tongues, Jesus launches into a series of three parables — all three of them dealing with recovery of something that has been lost: a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son. All three accounts end with a celebration — though in the parable of the lost son, the most elaborate and detailed of the three, the celebration comes in the middle.

For though the celebration begins shortly after the prodigal son’s return, and the recovery of “the lost,” that isn’t the end of the story. There is an additional character, mentioned only in passing at the beginning of the tale, but making his full appearance at the end: the angry elder son. He complains about the celebration, and the manner of his complaint suggests he’s stored up quite a few resentments about how he feels he’s been treated by his father. And yet, the father assures him that he loves him as well, and that his inheritance is secure — but that they must celebrate and rejoice at the repentance and return of the younger son, rather than grumbling about it.

Now, given the placement of this parable in the gospel, and those to whom it was told, and why, it is abundantly clear that Jesus intends the younger son to represent the sinners who have turned their lives around and come to hear his preaching, and the older son to represent the scribes and Pharisees themselves, with their grumbling complaint about the “sinners” being paid any mind at all, including Jesus eating with them.

This is perhaps the gentlest rebuke to the scribes and Pharisees in the whole Gospel — certainly unlike the strong condemnations with which Jesus greeted them a few chapters earlier. Here the parable presents even the Pharisees with some Good News, assuring them that they too are “always with the Father,” and that “all that is his is theirs.” Perhaps this is Jesus’ last effort to reach out to them, to get them to see that they do not need to occupy themselves with judgment of those they deem unworthy, they need not be lost in their own self-righteous anger but can break free of it and find their way home, and come to join the celebration, rejoicing in the breadth of salvation, in which all who are lost are ultimately found!

+ + +

That is an important lesson in itself. However, I’d like to note one more thing about this parable. We tend to romanticize the younger son — even if we don’t make his story into a ballet! We tend to see him as a figure of heartfelt sorrow and repentance. But look closely at the text and I think you’ll see instead something more like calculation than sorrow, even if it leads him to change his mind and come back home. He’s spent all his money, taken the lowest job you could imagine for a Jew — feeding pigs! — and realizes what a mistake he’s made, comparing himself to the hired hands back home and seeing how miserable he is. He is sorry — but mostly because of the mess he’s in, sorry about his own discomfort more than for the pain he caused his father, more sorry for the consequences of his action than for the act itself.

So he makes an entirely pragmatic and practical decision to go back home — motivated not so much by love for his father, as by hunger in his belly. He makes a quick calculation that he couldn’t be any worse off as a hired hand, so it’s well worth taking the chance of returning home.

+ + +

The thought of calculation reminds me of another young man’s story — a real one this time, but with a similar theme. Blaise Pascal was a 17th-century French scientist and philosopher, famous among other things for inventing one of the earliest mechanical adding machines before he was twenty years old. He is also known for his having undergone a religious conversion and for his adherence to a strict sect of very pious Roman Catholicism.

Now, as you know, it is not common for scientists to be fervently faithful or embarrassingly pious, so it is no surprise to find that in addition to his fervor and mysticism there is also a more calculating and rationalistic side to Pascal’s faith. He knew as a scientist that he could not prove that God exists, but as one of the originators of probability theory, he had to admit that God might exist. And so, in what came to be called “Pascal’s Wager” he calculated that if God exists, it is wisest to win eternal life by placing your bets on God — for, if God doesn’t exist, you’ve lost nothing, but if God does exist you stand to win everything! It’s a compelling notion, and it has held up well for over 300 years. A modern form of this wager is the comment of a believer to an atheist: “If I am wrong about God and life after death, I will never know; but if you are wrong, you will!”

There is a similar kind of calculation in the younger son in our parable. “Better take a chance on my father welcoming me back, rather than starve to death for certain, here.” But you can also hear the wheels clicking in the mind of the older brother, too — though to a different calculation: not the younger brother’s “it can’t get any worse so what the hey, let me go home”; but the colder calculation of the older brother’s carefully tabulated column of resentments — “Working like a slave for years, never disobedient, never got so much as a goat to have a party with my friends...” I can picture him, red-faced and angry, perhaps about to burst into tears. How long has this good obedient son been holding in this catalogue of resentments and injuries? Storing up all the debt he things the father hasn’t paid him?

+ + +

And perhaps that touches something in the father, too. But it is not simply a response to the calculus of resentment, any more than his response to the younger son was based on a calculus of repentance. This isn’t about calculus, or logic, or anything like that. It is about love.

The father doesn’t love the younger son because he repents, or the older son because he remains loyal, but because they are his sons. It is not about calculation: either the calculation of a gamble that you might be forgiven, or the calculation that if you tote up enough obedience and loyalty you will get a rich reward. Like the generous employer who gave the workers in the vineyard the same wage regardless of how long or short their work-shift, the generous father in this parable loves his sons not on the basis of what they’ve done or failed to do, but because they are his children. It is not about calculation, but relationship; not about logic, but love.

This, ultimately, is the message Jesus wanted to get across to those scribes and Pharisees, the message the tax-collectors and sinners had already understood, the message that the God of Love intends for us. God’s love is not based upon what we do or fail to do; God’s love is not something we earn by being good or lose by being bad. God’s love is a gift that came to us, reconciling us and the whole world to God, even while we were yet sinners — not counting our trespasses but forgiving them, wiping the slate clean and cancelling the debt, hitting the delete key on the whole spreadsheet of human sinfulness.

Christ did not save us because we were good, or because we repented, but because we needed saving and he loved us so much that nothing could stop him from saving us, even at the cost of his own life, by which he showed us the greatest love.

This is how the lost are found, how the dead are restored to life; this is how new life begins, how new creation starts, and this is why we celebrate — as we must — and keep the feast, through Jesus Christ our Lord.+

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The Elder Son and the Father’s Repentance

My brother’s gone inside. Hot tears well up.
“O Father, don’t you love me? Have you
one such blessing? For this son of yours
you kill the calf, and open wide the doors
of welcome. But for me, it seems, you choose
no festival, no ring, no robe, no shoes...”
My voice cracks with a sob; the tears run down.
“When my friends last came by, you seemed to frown;
I didn’t dare to ask you for the goat —
you know, the little one — so we could feast.
Oh, had you offered that, at least
I’d feel you took some notice, made some note
of how I’ve worked and not complained... but now...”
My voice gives out.
                    But then I see his eyes
are also filled with tears; he on my shoulders
lays his hands, then draws me to his breast,
“My Son, my Son,” he says, “My firstborn son,
my heir, my joy, my pride — when I to rest
am gone, all that I have is yours, and none
but you shall hold it. Did I, Son, neglect
to tell you that? That you were the elect,
to hold by right inheritance all this?
Then I confess that I have done amiss.
Forgive me for assuming that you knew,
for never saying how much I love you...
but come inside; to celebrate with joy;
I love you, Son, more than the younger boy.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
Lent 3 2010

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Another (Re)View...

...of Reasonable and Holy

---

Anglican Christianity has long had a tradition of scholarly parsons. At the head of this line stands Hooker, of course, and it is Hooker who presides over Reasonable and Holy, the learned work of another learned parish priest. It is one thing to quote Hooker’s words, as Tobias Haller frequently does, and something more difficult, more admirable, and more worthwhile to emulate his approach and his temperament. Haller does that too.

Hooker’s was in the first instance controversial theology, aimed at answering and controverting a stated position, strongly held, on matters of practical import for the church as a whole. Likewise, Haller seeks to meet opponents on their own ground, assessing their arguments carefully and refuting them courteously, rather than simply dismissing them and insisting on his own alternative. The ground, in this case, is primarily biblical. However important the natural-law tradition has been or may still be in addressing the questions at issue, that is not where Anglicans who disapprove of same-sexual relations commonly take their stand. Accordingly, neither does Haller. On the one hand, he does not take the standard line of appealing to the moral virtue of justice, which would be a form of natural-law argument; on the other, he need not and does not deal with consequentialist arguments to the effect that any change in longstanding prohibitions with regard to same-sexuality will have evil effects. The arguments that are relevant here are arguments from authority, and the relevant authority is that of canonical texts.

Nevertheless, for Haller as for Hooker, it remains that not even scriptural texts are self-interpreting. They have to be understood, and understanding them calls for rationality. The relevant passages—all the usual ones—need to be examined reasonably, which is quite a different thing from submitting them to a priori judgment. In other words, there is exegetical homework to be done. It is true that Haller does not dive into the maelstrom of “higher,” historical-critical interpretation. He takes the Bible, deliberately, as it stands, and takes it as holy Scripture, in the way that the church has taken it and that Paul and Jesus took it. In that regard, as in others, Reasonable and Holy is quite a conservative book. Yet by no means does it follow that scholarly investigation is superfluous. Quite the contrary. Haller does not parade his erudition; he does exercise it. Where the nuances of Greek and Hebrew are relevant, he refers to them. He also brings into the conversation a good deal of rabbinic exegesis, with which his own has perhaps a certain affinity.

There are no sweeping judgments here. To use his own phrase, Haller does not offer a Grand Unified Theory of Sexuality, in which everything the Bible has to say finds a clear-cut, logical place. In fact much of his book is aimed, explicitly or otherwise, at those who have put forward such artificial, totalizing schemes as the answer to current disputes. That is not what he means by being reasonable. He means—to judge by what he does—drawing careful distinctions, gauging the merits of possibly relevant interpretations, and mounting a case that depends on the cumulative weight of all its components. “Judicious” might be the right word.

That being so, even if it were possible to summarize the argument, a summary would be out of place. The value of Reasonable and Holy lies not in its conclusions alone but chiefly in the way Haller reaches them. What should, however, be emphasized is the user-friendliness of his book, its learnedness notwithstanding. The sidebars and callouts will help readers keep their place. Headings are memorably phrased, and just occasionally over the top (“Don’t be so shellfish”). There are no footnotes and, more seriously, there is no index—not, that is, in the book itself. But an index of names and another of textual references can be consulted online. Now that the General Convention of the Episcopal Church has committed itself to “an open process for the consideration of theological and liturgical resources for the blessing of same gender relationships,” whoever is charged with compiling those resources will want to add this book to the list.

CHARLES HEFLING
Boston College
Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

From The Anglican Theological Review Winter 2010, Volume 92 Number 1, 225-226.

Oh to be in England

Took this snapshot yesterday after worship at St. Alban's Abbey. Anyone suggesting that the Church of England is dead wouldn't know it from here -- a lively Eucharist with a very full nave, a procession of I would guess close to 75 children returning to the Communion from their Sunday School, lovely music and a rock-solid sermon from Dean Jeffrey John. All in all the signs of life in Christ abundantly evident! Followed by a lovely lunch with Simon Sarmiento and Marilyn, and an uneventful trip back to London.

Faithful Readings

I would like to conclude my response to Ephraim Radner’s review of Reasonable and Holy with a few comments on his views of my biblical hermeneutic. Perhaps the strangest thing in this strange review is that Radner appears not to recognize what I am doing as entirely within the range of the classical Biblical interpretation. I suspect his assumption must be something like, “If your result disagrees with the doctrinal tradition, then your technique or method must diverge from the exegetical tradition.” I may be putting words into his mouth, but this is the only premise that can make sense of his further comments. Taken on its own, as a premise, it is clearly false, as many people using identical exegetical methods, at various stages in the history of engagement with Scripture, have come to very different conclusions as to its meaning and application.

However, the least accurate characterization Radner makes of my biblical approach is to call it “Liberal Protestantism.” Liberal, perhaps, but only in the sense that Richard Hooker was liberal in comparison with Walter Travers. Protestant, but only in the sense of the classical Anglicanism of the Elizabethan Settlement, or the Evangelicalism of Luther, and certainly not in the mid-19th to mid-20th century meaning of the word. If seeking a cohesive message from Scripture — such as my own that its sufficient purpose is salvation through grace by faith in Christ (an aim Radner seems to find less than fruitful, as he puts save in scare-quotes!) — then he is equally guilty of such an appeal, when he criticizes me for not developing a “larger scriptural vision” along the lines of John Paul II. If anything, Radner’s approach, and what he appears to be asking me to do, is more along the lines of the liberal protestant academy of the late 19th century.

To take one example, which I referred to in the earlier post: Radner accuses me (I think) of misrepresenting Rob Gagnon on the question of Jesus’ use of porneiai. Here is Radner:

...On the issue of whether Jesus actually says anything about homosexuality, [Haller] attacks Gagnon on his reading of porneiai in Mark 7:21ff. as possibly implying homosexual practice.

Haller provides some straightforward initial questions, ones that are worth noting, and then pursues his general theme of same-sex references in the Bible as being primarily aimed at cultic prostitution. One might think that Gagnon is a rather silly man on this basis. But the reader is never told that Gagnon himself doesn’t put much weight on the very argument Haller attacks (half a paragraph, on a verse he questions as “authentically” Jesus’ in any case), while Haller, on the other hand, deals with the question at length (four pages).

First of all, to the accuracy of Radner’s characterization of Gagnon. From his reference to my book, one would think this was Gagnon’s only statement on what Jesus thought about homosexuality. In fact, it is the only text Gagnon can attempt to twist so as to put an actual condemnation of homosexuality (in his mind) into Jesus’ mouth. Gagnon, after all, is capable of such astounding statements as, “Jesus, both in what he says, and what he fails to say, remains squarely on the side of those who reject homosexual practice.” (B&HP, 228, emphasis mine) So much for actual fidelity to the text! However, I was addressing Gagnon’s earlier statement:

...No first-century Jew could have spoken of porneiai (plural) without having in mind the list of forbidden sexual offenses in Leviticus 18 and 20 (incest, adultery, same-sex intercourse, bestiality). The statement underscores that sexual behavior does matter. If Jesus made this remark, he undoubtedly would have understood homosexual behavior to be included among the list of offenses. (ibid. 191-2)

Contrary to Radner’s assertion, Gagnon expresses no doubt whatsoever that porneiai “undoubtedly” includes “homosexual behavior.” In addition, Gagnon holds very lightly indeed any doubt he may have that this verse is an actual statement by Jesus (“If Jesus made this remark...”) — for Gagnon, Jesus damns if he does say it, and damns if he doesn’t. This is a bizarre combination of Jesus Seminar color-coding and pure eisegesis — hardly what I would call sound scholarship. And yet this passage from Gagnon is quoted widely as a definitive summary of Jesus’ position on the subject, including in the Church of England’s House of Bishops’ position paper, Some Issues in Human Sexuality. Do I think Gagnon a “rather silly man.” No, but perhaps a dangerous one, whose agenda is at all costs to spin either what the Scripture says or what it doesn’t into an overarching message of disapprobation.

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I, too, of course, do have a “larger Scriptural vision,” though it may be that Radner cannot grasp it because he doesn’t share it. He dismisses my hermeneutic based on the “Summary of the Law” as if it were not in fact “a consistent moral ‘principle’ (discerned somehow as divine)” by which we are to understand the Scripture. I think that is exactly what it is, and from the mouth of Jesus himself.

This view is not some modern concoction out of Liberal Protestantism, as Radner thinks, nor is it a means simply to dispose of difficult passages, but the means to place them in their proper perspective in the over-all plan of salvation. This principle of biblical interpretation is the basis of Jesus’ and Paul’s own engagement with Scripture — and it is the font that waters the best reflections of the early church. As Saint Augustine put it,

Whoever, then, thinks that he understands the Holy Scriptures, or any part of them, but puts such an interpretation upon them as does not tend to build up the twofold love of God and neighbor, does not yet understand them as he ought. If, on the other hand, a man draws a meaning from them that may be used for the building up of love, even though he does not happen upon the precise meaning which the author whom he reads intended to express in that place, his error is not pernicious, and he is wholly clear from the charge of deception. (On Christian Doctrine 1.36[40])

As Augustine later says, it is better to be accurate than not, and error should be corrected. But let the correction itself by clear and sound and specific — and not like the dense circularity of Gagnon, or the flippant dismissal of Radner.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

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Maligning Scholarship

In his review of Reasonable and Holy, Ephraim Radner, apparently less than willing to engage with my conclusions, instead spends much of his energy on dismissing my scholarship. He notes the book is physically thin but finds it logically thin as well. As to the former, the book is only 192 pages, but the print is rather small, and it amounts to just under 82,000 words. In any case, arguments should not be weighed in pounds. Content is more important than form, after all.

As to the logic and the scholarship, I think a problem for Radner is that the book is not what he was expecting, and he appears not to have been able to free himself from those expectations. He appears to have wanted the book to be a consideration of what various scholars have said on the subject, carefully annotated with all of their opinions. In short, the kind of argument Hooker found pointless and tedious.

In fact, this book is a return to primary sources, and the logic is based on addressing the premises and conclusions of the “reasserters” — which in their case is often the same thing. While I make passing reference to a number of contemporary authors, my main interest is in Scripture itself, the writings of the early church and the reflections of the rabbis, and a look at the literature contemporary with them — including the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Pseudepigrapha — and all of this is properly cited. As to modern thinkers — few of their assertions on either side bear much mark of originality, and I do not think it my task to present the full arguments of those with whom I disagree, but rather to test their conclusions — I am aiming to provide answers to assertions, as Radner appears to recognize, even as he regards this approach as “lacking any scholarly context.”

Unfortunately, this assertion itself is short on detail — would that Radner had devoted more space to examples than to mere repetition of his theme. He gives only two explicit examples of my failings, in relation to my treatment of an assertion by Rob Gagnon, and my failure to cite Bruce Malina on the same subject. I want to address both of these specifics, as I think they provide a very good example both of the danger of citing contemporary authors, and the uneven quality of Radner’s own scholarship — which gives the impression of refutation when the texts cited do not support his assertion quite so forcibly as he suggests. I will take up the statement about Malina in this post, and address the matter concerning Gagnon at a later time.

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Radner says, “Haller references no other detailed discussions of the meaning of porneia, like Bruce Malina’s 1972 article, that would actually provide significant counter-evidence to Haller’s thesis.” Lest Radner accuse me of not providing the citation, I take him to be referring to Bruce Malina’s, “Does Porneia Mean Fornication?” in Novum Testamentum 1972, 10-17.

So, does this article actually “provide significant counter-evidence to Haller’s thesis.” Radner fails to state what my thesis is, so for the benefit of discussion, let me state it: That porneia (and zenut in Hebrew) and their related words do not, in the contemporary literature under examination, refer to same-sex relationships (apart from male prostitutes). So does Malina provide significant counter-evidence to my thesis?

First of all, it has to be noted that Malina’s own thesis, argument, and conclusion are not concerned with same-sexuality at all. His goal is to show that porneia in its biblical use is not intended to proscribe fornication in its modern sense as sex before marriage. As he poses the question, “Does the N.T. usage of the porneia word group in fact cover all the meanings generally given the word group by the lexica and commentaries, or do the meanings ascribed to the word group rather derive from later usage and later moral judgment deriving from a historically and culturally conditioned version of N.T. morality?”

Does this sound familiar? If you’ve read my book it should, as Malina’s goal is actually similar to mine: to limit the range of application of the porneia/zenut word group in its original frame, rather than the expanded reading of “just about anything one regards as sexual immorality.” (I wonder if Radner actually agrees with Malina, that sex before marriage is not forbidden by Scripture?)

In addition to the similarity in our aims, Malina investigates virtually the same ancient materials as I, by much the same means, and with much the same conclusions, with two exceptions. He does, it is true, as a matter of style offer a significant array of references to modern sources — but largely to reject their findings! When it comes to rabbinic texts (which Radner says I treat so poorly) Malina treats the passages citing R. Eliezer (15-17) exactly as I do, but (in my opinion) subverts his own argument. How?

Eliezer, as I point out (128) held that if a man had intercourse with a woman without the intent of marrying her he rendered her a harlot. But by failing to note the stress on lack of intentionality to marry her, Malina weakens his own argument: this is not about pre-marital sex, but what we would call “casual sex” or perhaps sexual exploitation. Malina’s aim is only to exclude “pre-betrothal, pre-marital, heterosexual intercourse of a non-cultic or non-commercial nature, i.e., what we call ‘fornication’ today” from the range of the word group. (17) With its focus on the intent not to marry, Eliezer’s ruling is actually consonant with Malina’s conclusion: that pre-marital sex is not porneia. (If the couple don't marry, the sex wasn't pre-marital, was it?)

Malina also cites Rashi’s reading of Eliezer to refer to sex between persons where legal marriage was forbidden. (16) This opens the question of the “forbidden relations” and Leviticus 18. In this context, Malina makes passing reference to male same-sexuality as included among forbidden relations, and then suggests that porneia — in addition to the figurative application to idolatry which I also elucidate — applies to any sexual immorality condemned in Torah, with specific reference to Leviticus 18. (13)

In this Malina and I actually are at odds. But does he “provide counter-evidence” to my argument? Although he makes this assertion about Leviticus two or three times in this short essay, he provides no reference from the primary sources to support it, and the secondary citations are of a very general nature. To the contrary, I have assembled primary citations against this conclusion. (126-132).

Most importantly the “forbidden relations” (arayot) include categories not found in Leviticus, as Malina notes(13). But not all of the arayot, in Leviticus or not, are referred to as porneia/zenut in the contemporary or later Jewish literature. (Leviticus 18 itself does not use the term at all.) As a matter of fact, as I note, porneia appears only to be applied on a very occasional basis in Jewish literature (e.g., Sirach 23:16-17) to the incest prohibitions of Leviticus 18, a section of Leviticus with its own internal unity based on the category of “likeness of flesh.” (see R&H 129) Moreover, two of the arayot appearing in Leviticus 18 (sex with a menstruant or a beast) are explicitly excluded from porneia/zenut in the Rabbinic tradition (bTerumah 29b, 30b). (ibid. 131)

So, on this point, far from providing counter-evidence to my thesis, Malina shows the same sort of over-broadening of the range of meaning of which he accuses the traditional lexica in regard to pre-marital sex.

I will also note that Malina is careful to point out that the Pseudepigrapha, such as Jubilees, only “perhaps” refer to homosexuality. (14) This is one of those “maybes” that Radner finds so troublesome, but which real scholars live by. In this case, my findings show that the Pseudepigrapha (Jubilees, Enoch, the Testaments), like our canonical Jude, link the story of Sodom with that of the Watchers (or Nephilim) from Genesis 6, and that the concern, as Jude 7 shows, is not homosexuality, but explicitly heterocarnality — “going after different (heteras) flesh. (167-168)

So, does this amount to refutation? Or even persuasive “counter-evidence?” And is this the best that Radner could find? You be the judge; or rather, the jury. I have no need to convince the prosecutor.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

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Theory or Praxis?

Bishop Whalon has written a thoughtful article about the sequence in which things have happened in the Episcopal Church concerning gay and lesbian persons, their relationships, and their role in ordained ministry — particularly in regard to the lack of clear statements from the General Convention, and the lack of a formal theological position certified by that body.

I would note at first that the General Convention is a legislative body, not a council of theologians. Nor do I think there is much "official theology" on the ground even when it comes to mixed-sex marriage: the 1928 BCP catechism, for example, is completely silent on the subject; the Articles of Religion only tell us that it is permitted to clergy and an estate allowed by Scripture. The 1979 Prayerbook doesn't say much more, and surely the defects (in the sense of what is wanting) in the Preface to the marriage liturgy (even as expanded from 1928 in our present BCP) should forestall anyone considering it a well-thought-out "theology," though it does, as I have reflected in Reasonable and Holy, provide the beginnings for such a theological reflection.

However, the real issue, to my mind, behind Bishop Whalon's article isn't so much about theology but about General Convention's proper role as a legislature: that the Episcopal Church, through General Convention, has not officially recognized the licitness of same-sex marriage, and by consenting to the election of a partnered (and legally married) gay bishop we have set the cart before the horse. I agree with my friend Bishop Whalon that this is a problem, and it continues to cloud the air with inconsistency.

In short, I would suggest that the theology has been done by the relevant theologians (obviously not to the liking of some others!) but that it is now time — or will be in 2012 — for General Convention to do its legislative duty in response, and give that theological work whatever "official" recognition is needed — by accepting its conclusions and providing formal recognition for the blessing of the stable, monogamous, lifelong relationships of same-sex couples on an equal footing with mixed-sex marriages.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Thought for 02.15.10

The most important prooftext is the one that describes the strength of the whisky.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG, with fond reflection on the wisdom of A E Houseman:
Malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to Man.

Understanding God

SJF • Last Epiphany 2010 • Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.+

Paul the Apostle, in that beautiful passage we heard today, acknowledges the incompleteness of our knowledge about God. “We know only in part,” he assures us, and even what we do know is like a reflection in a dusty mirror, a dim vision of the heart of reality that is too much for our eyes to take in.

The simple fact is that, as the old hymn said, the full truth of God’s love — for God is Love — “is broader than the measure of man’s mind” — beyond our full comprehension.

Have you ever tried to get a good look at the Empire State Building from 34th street? Well, if you have, you know you can’t see much. Standing at its base, you are too close to take it in — it is so overwhelming. Even from across the street you are still too close, and if you get further away other buildings will obstruct your view. The only place really to get an idea of how tall the Empire State Building is is to go blocks and blocks away, or even to Brooklyn or New Jersey — where you can then see it rising far above all of its neighbors.

Well, if this is true of a human construction, how much more of the creator of the world and all that is in it? We know from our reading of Scripture that Moses talked with God face to face — though even then we also know that God must have toned down his glory so that Moses would be able to converse with him. The one time Moses asked to see God in all his glory, just prior to the passage from Exodus that we read this morning, God told Moses he could not bear it and live, and so God made Moses stand in a cleft of the rock, with God’s own hand upon him until the fullness of God’s glory passed by, and only then did God take his hand away and let Moses see God’s back — the back of God’s glory — and that was enough to cause Moses’ face to shine with the reflection of that divine light. And ever after Moses had to wear a veil over his face, so that even this reflection of the back of God’s glory would not be too much for the people to bear.

And in our Gospel today, three of the apostles witness the revelation of God’s glory manifest in Jesus on the mountain-top; but even then the cloud of God’s presence mutes and filters and overshadows the dazzling scene — so that they might not be struck dead at the sight of God’s full glory revealed.

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So how can we come to any understanding of God? Well, first of all, as the doctor said, “Take two tablets and call me in the morning!” Moses comes down from his meeting with God, his face glowing from the encounter, but also bearing those two tablets of the covenant in his hand, God’s word, written by God’s own hand, ready to be delivered to the people. In this we may understand all of Scripture to be meant — all of the Word of God delivered to us in the Law and Prophets and Writings, in the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, and their letters, and the visions old and new.

And yet, just as the people couldn’t bear to look at Moses’ face, so too people then as now find even the second-hand glory of God’s Word in Scripture hard to understand — it will come as no news to you that there are as many different interpretations of Scripture as there are believers. There is an old Jewish saying that if you don’t like how your rabbi interprets the Scripture, you can always find another rabbi; and that in a room with five rabbis you’ll find at least six different interpretations. The same is surely true of Christians as well.

In fact, Christians can’t even on the whole agree on what the Bible is, let alone what it means, as Roman Catholics, Anglicans, Orthodox, and Protestants disagree about which books of the Old Testament are to be included in the Bible — books accepted by Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox as a part of their Bible are considered Apocrypha (suitable for reading but not for doctrine) by Anglicans and Lutherans, and not even included at all by Protestants. That’s why you’ll find different editions of the Bible with different books in different places, and sometimes going by different names.

Beyond these differences in the content of Scripture, in what the Bible is, we come to the various interpretations of Scripture. And here too, there is wide difference of opinion both between churches and within them. Every church will have a different understanding, or many different understandings, different shades of interpretation.

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So, how do we know which we should follow? Ultimately that question is rhetorical, as surely people will follow the interpretation that makes sense to them, that seems to speak to them, or else, as in the saying I quoted before, they’ll go off to find another rabbi — or priest or minister or church.

But I think there is some guidance to be found in what Saint Paul says in that passage from First Corinthians, about the need for love as the standard by which we judge whether our understanding and interpretation is in accord with God’s will. For as Paul says, even if he could speak as eloquently as an angel, or in miraculous tongues, or with powerful prophecy, or with an understanding of all mysteries and all knowledge — if his understanding and speaking and teaching were not based on love, it would all be for nothing. If his teaching or preaching or his prophecy did not ring the note of love, it would be like a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And what kind of teaching would that be?

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Saint Augustine of Hippo was one of the early great expounders of Scripture. He had been a young man-about-town, living the high life, but he experienced a conversion and became a Christian towards the end of the fourth century. (He credited his conversion to the prayers of his mother, Saint Monica, and you can see them conversing in our stained-glass window in the corner.)

Augustine had a fundamental rule when it came to interpreting Scripture, and it was based on Saint Paul’s advice, under the governance of the love commanded by God — the love of God and neighbor. Augustine wrote: “If it seems to you that you have understood the Scriptures, or any part of them, in such a way that by this understanding you do not build up the twin love of God and neighbor, then you have not understood them... If on the other hand you have made judgments about [Scripture] that are helpful for building up this love, but for all that have not said what the author you have been reading actually meant ..., then your mistake is not serious, and you certainly cannot be accused of lying.” (On Christian Doctrine 1.36.40.)

This was Augustine’s standard, and it was wisdom then as now. Does how you read the Scripture, understand the Scripture, and teach the Scripture build up — or to use the old word, does it edify? Is your understanding set upon the firm foundation of the love of God and neighbor? That is a sound foundation, and Augustine makes clear that even if your interpretation of the Scripture might depart from what Moses or Isaiah or Saint Paul himself may originally have intended, you will not go far wrong if that interpretation leads to a greater love of God and neighbor. Love is the key that unlocks the Scripture, and that is true all the time, not just on Valentine’s Day!

For ultimately, love is God’s message, what God has been trying to get across to us from the very beginning — from the very first time God wrote with God’s own hand anything down to instruct the people, on those two tablets of stone, which I hope you will notice in the first tablet, the first four commandments how we are to love God (honoring God alone, not having idols, respecting God’s name, and keeping the Sabbath) and in the final six telling us how we are to love our neighbors (by honoring our parents, not killing, cheating, stealing, lying, or coveting).

And if we needed any further instruction, after all of that, Jesus himself provides us with a summary of the law of the two tablets as the very instruction that Augustine would later take as his key to interpreting the Scripture: to love God with your whole self, and to love your neighbor as yourself. On these two, as he said, hang all the law and the prophets — that is, all the rest of Scripture.

As another old hymn puts it, “What more can he say than to you he hath said?” Do you want to understand the Scripture? Do you? Let me repeat to you what God himself says in today’s Gospel in reference to Jesus, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”+

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On Consents: Conscience, Consequences and Canons

The consent process for the ordination and consecration of Mary Glasspool is well under way, and the score-keepers and handicappers are hard at work. As we all realize, consents to episcopal elections are not a trivial matter; but then, they never were, as a reading of the first decades of the church's history reveals. Even in those simpler times there were a number of priests elected who failed to garner the necessary consent to their episcopate.

No one would say we live in simpler times, and some of the complexity is due to conscience. In Glasspool's case, there will be people (bishops with jurisdiction and members of standing committees) whose conscience will insist she must be ordained; and there will equally be others who in conscience will cast a negative (or withhold a positive) vote on the grounds of her partnered status, or even on the grounds of her sex. (There are still those who believe that a woman not only should not, but cannot be a bishop, and their belief will inform their vote.)

Still others will be swayed by concern over consequences. The Archbishop of Canterbury himself has alluded to that reality; and certainly it is no great prognostication that consent, or failure of consent, will indeed have consequences of one sort or another.

Others yet will take the course of reading the text of what they are signing, which, at least as far as standing committees goes, attests that they "know of no impediment on account of which the Reverend A.B. ought not be ordained..." and consent on the basis of their agnosticism, or deny consent on the basis of knowing of some such impediment. (Obviously those who do not believe a woman can be a bishop would hold her sex to be such an impediment; though this is not the current teaching of the church, and thus not a canonical, but a conscientious impediment, as noted above. A canonical impediment, apart from matters of age, having filed the proper paperwork, and so on, would include having done something that would be cause for deposition if proven, under the disciplinary canons.)

Whatever happens, people are watching and keeping count. One hundred twenty days seems like a long time in our electronic age, but it may well run its full course in this case. My suspicion is that we may see some exercise of the "pocket veto" — some lukewarm bishops or standing committees simply not getting around to registering their vote, which will count as a "no" since an absolute majority is needed in both categories. So, if consent fails, they will be able to say, "We didn't vote against her," while if she is confirmed, will be able to say, "We didn't vote for her." It will be interesting to see, come early May, how many voices are silent at the deadline.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

On Populism

It is important to distinguish collective wisdom from the madness of crowds.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Up a (Family) Tree

Ephraim Radner has published a typically wordy review of Reasonable and Holy in The Living Church. I have to say I am disappointed, not because the review is dismissive, but because I had hoped for more engagement with the issues and conclusions I present. Instead, Radner spends much of his time dealing with form rather than content. (It is a poor critic who blames another workman’s tools.) Plainly Radner does not like my conclusions, but he addresses only two or three of them in any detail. I will be making a longer response as time permits (I am in the midst of completing several major projects, and will be traveling on Anglican Communion business next week). However, I want here to examine just one of the assertions Radner makes. It is revelatory of the extent to which the heterosexualist mind-set, dazzled and misled by an eisegetical “larger scriptural vision” is prevented from engagement with alternative ideas, or, it seems, the actual text.

Radner states,

The central element of procreation in marriage, for instance, is bound up with the character of Israel’s calling in fallen (and the Fall has no place in Haller’s scheme) human history — genealogy — and ought not simply to be examined in terms of this or that individual person or couple (a rather modern obsession).

I will leave to one side the fact that I examine at some length the traditional imagery of both marriage and harlotry in the role of Israel in salvation history (pp. 53-56). Mindful as well of the apostolic injunction “not to occupy [myself] with ... endless genealogies that promote speculations rather than the divine training that is known by faith,” (1 Tim 1:4), I nonetheless feel it necessary to challenge Radner’s assertion here — or what I can make of it.

For while it is obviously true that procreation and genealogy are linked, the crucial observation from the New Testament, in the two places where genealogies figure, is that procreation — at least heterosexual procreation — is not at issue. Both Matthew (1:1-16) and Luke (3:23-38) reach their climax in an essential subversion of heterosexual procreation: Matthew sweeps aside all of his carefully constructed line of fatherhood to turn his attention to Mary, and then to describe the virginal conception. Luke, emerging from the revelation of Jesus Christ as Son of God at his baptism, presents a reverse genealogy that culminates in the affirmation that the first Adam was also Son of God. (As I note in Reasonable and Holy, the three most important persons in salvation history — Adam, Eve, and Jesus — are not the result of heterosexual sex; and, again contrary to Radner’s careless reading, I cite the traditional patristic and medieval reading of Mary’s role in the reversal of the Fall, as the “new Eve,” as a crucial factor in a sound understanding of the place of procreation in the work of God. See pp. 30-38) Taking all of this, as I do, in the context of John’s words about those who are born “from above” (John 3:3 )and not “of the will of man,” (John 1:13) I think I have expounded a sound biblical picture, consonant with the actual text — even if it must dissipate the Radnerian mirage, typified by his dismissive and anti-incarnational conclusion. Ultimately it is about individual persons — and this is no “modern obsession” but at the heart of the Christian faith.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

The Unequal Measures

The Archbishop of Canterbury has addressed the General Synod with an unusually measured tone and content. Finally he appears to recognize that some of his comments have caused more pain, and served less well, than he imagined or intended.

Still, I find the whole process of thought concerning how we are to get along as a Communion to remain more or less one-sided, though in this speech the Archbishop does his best to even the scales, and put some responsibility on the other side. However, on the whole, restraint is still in general posed as restraint from action rather than restraint from reaction. It become a form of, “Please don't do what the rest of us, or most of the rest of us, don't like; or even, in the long run, what a few of us cannot bear.”

I still find it odd, as in Bishop Graham Kings’ recent essay, that the interaction and relationship of "autonomy" and "interdependence" are not better understood, but instead set off against each other as opposed notions. The Anglican Covenant refers to "communion with autonomy and accountability." Interdependence does not mean submission, but relationship — which is the dwelling the Archbishop appears to be framing out, but is still tentative about moving into.

Interdependence in relationship with autonomy is a two way street: the pledge is for all of us to bear one another's burdens, not to control each others' lives. (See Covenant 3.2, which calls for mutual respect, not control.) So this means, perhaps that the Communion will need to put up with gay bishops in one province, and criminalization of homosexuality in the nation in which another province exists, accepting that in a large and complex world and church, with many cultures and traditions and laws, all things will not necessarily be the same in all places.

The one thing that can be common to all is the willingness to abide in relationship, and abide with these tensions rather than allowing them to divide us as we stand in judgment of one another instead of bearing with one another.

Let Love be the thumb on the scale, and restraint be restraint from judgment and wrath.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Battle for Britain (well, England)

See here for a response to the Ashworth private member's motion referred to earlier, being distributed to the General Synod of the Church of England, concerning the "hounding" of "faithful" "Anglicans" by the leadership of The Episcopal Church. (Pardon the scare-quotes... I think I may have used my quota; though I found a hidden store overlooked by rightists who insist on writing about gay "marriage.")

I've also suggested the production of a postcard note saying something like this, to help the English put this in perspective:

Dear Synod Member,

Please consider the following for a moment:

1) What would be done in the Church of England if a bishop from the convocation of Canterbury were to announce one day that he no longer considered himself to be under the authority of the Archbishop of Canterbury and had transferred his allegiance to the Archbishop of Tanzania, but intended to remain in his present location and exercise episcopal functions as a representative of his new archbishop?

2) What would be done in the Church of England in the case of a priest who announced that he no longer recognized his diocesan bishop as having any authority over him, but refused to relinquish his cure? And if he invited bishops from other dioceses or provinces to do parish visitations there?

3) What would be done in the Church of England if the clergy and parish council of a parish in, shall we say, Dibley, announced that it was no longer part of the Church of England, but considered itself now to be a congregation of the Church of the Province of the Sudan, altered all of their signage and other public information to reflect this change, purporting now to be part of "The Anglican Church in England" and invited bishops from the Sudan to function in the parish, refusing to have anything more to do with their C. of E. diocese or its leadership?

These are the kinds of things The Episcopal Church is having to deal with, as facts on the ground. Any depositions, inhibitions, or lawsuits are a result of and in response to precisely these sorts of actions. Consider carefully how you vote on the motion to come before you. You may soon be dealing with just such situations yourself.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

What's Up with Scripture?

It is not that progressives such as I are teaching contrary to Scripture, but that we are interpreting Scripture contrary to a traditional teaching.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
more on this later

Global Village Idiocy

It is a commonplace that new communication developments have made the world smaller and more intimate. I would like to opine that this is more appearance than reality.

The proliferation of social networks, twitters and tweets, facebooks and googles and myspaces and second lives may create new electronic connections and foster communication by these means, but I do not think this makes us a global village. Look at how difficult it has been to get real food and medical supplies to real people in Haiti — for all the almost instantaneous footage of the disaster, and the goodwill to text-message a contribution, the aid seems to be taking about what it did a quarter or a half or more of a century ago to reach those in need.

And that is because whatever the speed and form of communication, it remains communication: a text-message may speed the message on its way, but the actual human contact (perhaps well aided by simultaneous improvements in travel capabilities) will still take a while to get up and running. There is, in short, a humanity gap — the gap between the virtual communication and the real presence.

There is also the question of how intimate one can be with hundreds of facebook friends or twitter followers; and how deep an engagement of persons can be when limited to 140 characters. Does this not rather substitute for intimacy something analogous to fast food? Perhaps starved for true intimacy we accept the appearance of dispatches from facebook or tweets from twitter as eagerly as war-brides once looked for the postman.

I"m not saying "Down with social networks." What I'm saying is, "Let us not kid ourselves." It takes a village to be a village, and for all the benefits of quick and easy and voluminous communication, true fellowship and intimacy will always take more than speed-dialing.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

A thought from retreat: Killing Truth

The quickest way to kill the truth is simply to speak it, and then not act upon it. If you really want to bury it for good, inscribe it on the walls of your temple, where you can bow to it and do it reverence, then turn your back upon it and walk away from it. Thus you will be able to act in ways contrary to it, but always point to the temple on the hill.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
coming out of a discussion of Bonhoeffer

Way With Words

A cow is an adult female bovine, a boy is a human male child. A cowboy is neither. A cowboy is an adult human male who herds steers or steers herds.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG
inspired by an earlier discussion of the slipperiness of language, and the importance of context for meaning.

Thought from retreat 01.21.10

Bubbles don't look like bubbles from the inside.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Mrs Ashworth is misinformed

and perhaps a meddlesome interferer who by her own admission did not consult with any Episcopalians other than those she appears to represent; or at the very least a well-meaning busybody.

Mrs Lorna Ashworth is bringing a Private Members Motion to the General Synod of the Church of England, appealing recognition by the Church of England of a state of communion with ACNA (the self-styled "Anglican Church in North America). You can review her background document for yourself. Amongst the numerous errors and half-truths in this document, I want simply to flag her assertion that the "Dennis Canon" was somehow a novel creation by which all parish property was transferred to "the ownership of the national church."

In fact, the "Dennis Canon" (which she quotes but clearly does not understand) merely put into canonical language the practice and understanding of the church (and in most places, the state) up to that time: that parishes may own their property, but they hold it as trustees for the wider church. It is not theirs to sell, for instance, and never has been, without diocesan approval, under canons far older than that proposed by Walter Dennis. (This is perhaps slightly different than they do in England, admittedly, but I very much doubt the leadership of an English parish could suddenly claim no longer to be part of the Church of England and retain the real property until then held in its name.) The Dennis Canon merely made explicit what had been the normal practice up to that time. Dozens of court cases had been decided in favor of the larger church prior to the adoption of this canon, and very, very few against (most of the latter involving peculiar circumstances in a given parish).

But to clarify for Mrs Ashworth, and any member of the Synod who might not understand, the question isn't ownership but trusteeship. I have dealt with this at length before and will not dwell on it here, but the basic principle is not that hard to understand: when people have custody of a property as trustees, the maintenance of the trust forms the basis of their control. Most Episcopal parishes were founded for the good and use of The Episcopal Church; they were maintained and contributed to over (in some cases) generations with that end in mind, and the vestries serve as the custodians of that trust. Those who give to the support of the church give -- the church doesn't belong to them simply because they have contributed to its construction or maintenance. (Ananias and Sapphira learned that the hard way.)

Moreover, when leaders of a parish vote to leave The Episcopal Church, even though they may feel that they are the truly faithful Anglicans, they fail in their trustee responsibilities, and at the very least remove themselves from being qualified to exercise that trust — they have, in fact, violated the trust. So the control of the property (not its ownership, per se) reverts to the body for whom it was held in trust: the diocese and national church. In many cases the members of the parish who remained part of The Episcopal Church will take up control of the property. Mrs A seems to show a great deal of pity of those she says are "excluded" from their churches, with scant recognition that in many cases a portion of the congregation has no wish to secede from The Episcopal Church, and it is they who have been "excluded" and are seeking to regain property wrongly occupied by those who wish to walk apart from the church of which they formerly were part.

I certainly hope this mischievous motion is not adopted. It will seriously muddy already well-trodden waters. (See the comments to this effect in the additional document from the Secretary General, especially noting the citations from the Windsor Continuation Group Report ¶ 93-96.)

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Covenant +

I just want to flag a thought here -- which I confess is not original, but popped up some weeks ago somewhere I can't recall.

That is to suggest that if GC chooses to sign The Anglican Communion Covenant, we do so with an accompanying document that lays out our understanding of what the various articles in the Covenant mean to us, and how we are able to accept them.

This is the kind of proactive laying-on-the-table that I think would be helpful all round. Apparently (and this is not an area of personal knowledge, but came from the above-mentioned source) this is how certain international concordats and treaties are handled. It strikes me that such an explanatory codicil might well be of practical aid, and assembling such a document a good exercise as we continue to consider TACC itself. The tone would be not, "We disagree with..." but "We understand this to entail..."

Whoever first mentioned this, please take credit! I think it a very productive suggestion.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Suffering Haiti

That the poorest country in the hemisphere should be struck with such a disaster, reminds me of Iris Murdoch's telling phrase: "like being battered on a bruise." Pray for the people of Haiti, and work to send them help.

Niobe, 1968 pen and chalk, Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Tempus Fidget

We appear to be in a fidgety time of impatience regarding the Anglican Communion and its afterthought Covenant. The wealth of comments at Thinking Anglicans (to which I admit to having contributed) is one indication. To read some of the comments one would think the eschaton was round the next bend.

It is good to remember, however, that actual signing-on to the Covenant, in The Episcopal Church in any case, is some time away. There is ample opportunity both to reflect on the document and consider other provinces' reactions to it e're we in TEC adopt, seek to amend, or reject it.

For many, this ambiguous state will seem intolerable. The irascible antagonists will cry for immediate expulsion of TEC, or affirm their belief that TEC cannot sign; the anxious communionists will appeal for diocesan, parochial or even individual subscription; and somewhere in the middle the rest of us will try to read the actual document with care and set aside our knowledge of motives and aims, and address the Ecclesiopolitik of what it means to express a desire to remain in communion with some who don't want to be in communion with us.

It is a difficult state to be in. As Schrödinger's Cat was heard to mew from within her thought-experimental box: "This is not a super position to be in!"

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Unity at what cost?

Those who built the tower of Babel did so as a means to promote their unity and prevent their dispersal. The problem was that God was not at the heart of their plan, but a handmade "door to heaven." Those who sought a comprehensive unity ended with mutual incomprehension.

Meanwhile, in the Great White North it seems a Girardian game of "Scape the Goat" is under way. This is a familiar scene in tea-shop and schoolyard, where a cozy feeling of fellowship and commonality (and I dare say, communion) is engendered between two parties by tut-tutting about an absent third party. Sometimes a similar dialogue takes place between a self-acknowledged sinner and her God, "I thank you, God, that I am not as bad as _______." None of these is a very pretty sight. When, after all, does community become conspiracy?

I am growing weary of the manners and morals of the schoolyard.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

A Sobering Blast from the Past

I had the very great pleasure of knowing Bishop Walter D. Dennis, Suffragan of New York, in his capacity as Visitor to the Brotherhood of Saint Gregory. He also had a keen eye for trends in the church, and often wrote about his prognostications. In the process of browsing through my library I came across the following from twenty years ago, which I think should rank him among the prophets. Archbishop Runcie, quoted herein, also has some apposite words for us, in light of the strained efforts towards an Anglican Covenant. Bishop Dennis writes:

If it turns out that unity with the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches is a high priority for the new Archbishop of Canterbury [George Carey], then ECUSA, as part of the Anglican Communion, may feel obliged to sell out on some of the commitments it has already made, namely, on the ordination of women, on the issue of abortion, on the issue of theological dissent and liberation theologies, and on gay rights. Clearly, many would revolt, feeling that the price of unity is too high if it requires Episcopalians to forfeit these commitments.

In the next decade, there will be much talk about authority—jurisdiction—collegiality, and ecclesiology. In using such terms, we had better be certain that in our discussions there is common definition of each term. The Anglican Church says that the four marks of Anglican authority are: The Archbishop of Canterbury, The Lambeth Conference, The Archbishops and Primates of the Anglican Communion, and the Anglican Consultative Council. As I understand it, such authority from any and all of these are consultative, but there will be heavy discussion about whether or not this consultation is for advice or for approval or, at the very least, for consensus. Also, many people will be discussing whether the Archbishop of Canterbury and Primates as well as the Anglican Consultative Council are on the same footing with the other two, and if so, how did this authority come to be? Did autonomous churches participating in all this give approval for those two additional bodies from their National Synods and/or Conventions? Speaking of his own authority and that of Lambeth, Archbishop Robert Runcie made the following statement in his opening address at Lambeth 1988:

One of the characteristics of Anglicanism is our Reformation inheritance of national or provincial autonomy. The Anglican tradition is thus opposed to centralism and encourages the thriving of variety. This is a great good. There is an important principle to be borne witness to here: that nothing should be done at a higher level than is absolutely necessary. So Anglicans have become accustomed to speak of a dispersed authority. And we are traditionally suspicious of the Lambeth Conference becoming anything other than a Conference. We may indeed wish to discuss the development of more solid structures of unity and coherence. But I for one would want their provisional character made absolutely clear; like tents in the desert, they should be capable of being easily dismantled when it is time for the Pilgrim People to move on. We have no intention of developing an alternative Papacy. We would rather continue to deal with the structures of the existing Petrine Ministry, and hopefully help in its continuing development and reform as a ministry of unity for all Christians. [The Lambeth Conference, 1988, The Truth Shall Make You Free (London: Church House Publishers, 1988).]

“A Personal Prospectus On The Episcopal Church In The 1990s,” Walter D. Dennis, in The St Luke’s Journal of Theology, December 1990, Volume XXXIV Number 1, pages 11-12

brought to you by Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

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Thought for 1.7.10

If the Church is to err (as err it does) I had much rather see us err in being over-tolerant rather than in being over-scrupulous. This seems to me to be entirely more Christ-like -- the tolerance, not the error!

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

A Diagnostic Tool for Anglicans

Tell me if this handy checklist doesn't describe the state of the Anglican Communion, and many of its individual members (including TEC) in recent years.

TSH

Thought for 1.4.10

Sparked by a discussion at Thinking Anglicans...

I think it very important, if (as it appears) we are discussing some kind of trans-provincial Covenant, that we understand the difference between voluntary commitment and legal sanction. The Anglican Communion Covenant describes itself (and is described by others) along the former lines, though it has some clear hints of the latter still, even after the fourth section has been slightly watered-down. Some have suggested that signing the Covenant binds a signatory never to do anything others might find objectionable. This is clearly specious as the Covenant itself includes procedures for dealing with just such an eventuality. And in this touchy time, who knows what oxes yet unborn may one day be gored.

For me the question is simple: Shall we have a new body of Anglican Law, or a Charter of Good Intentions? For the sake of clarity I would prefer the former, though I also do not think we are ready for that. At this point I still am torn between ignoring the Covenant on one hand, or killing it with kindness on the other, by encouraging everyone to sign on. As I have noted before, not signing, and signing and then being disfellowshiped for purported offenses, both leave us more or less in the same place.

From the beginning, the Windsor and Covenant processes have been redolent of the mindset of the schoolyard, of hurt feelings and violated affection. It represents not interdependence but codependency, a situation I would not want to see played out in a parish, let alone throughout the Communion.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

Jesus Shall Reign

A setting of Isaac Watts great hymn, an arrangement of the tune "Duke Street" by yours truly, sung at a Brotherhood eucharistic celebration by the Brotherhood Schola under my direction, in 1994 -- at the Graymoor Ecumenical Institute, Garrison NY.

Happy New Year!

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG

MP3 File