Connecticut Yankees in Ecclesiastical Court — Or Not!

It seems to me we need greater precision on exactly what “communion” is before we can legitimately talk about people “abandoning” it. Canon IV.10 offers only the barest help: one abandons communion “by an open renunciation of the Doctrine, Discipline, or Worship of this Church, or by a formal admission into any religious body not in communion with this Church,” and then adds unhelpfully “or in any other way...” which opens a Pandora’s box of litigious possibilities.

It seems at present that the criterion for determining abandonment of communion is a bit like Potter Stewart’s famous definition of pornography, “I’ll know it when I see it.” When the penalty for abandonment is as serious as deposition, should there not be a clearer definition, at least, somewhere enshrined in the law? The new Title IV, with its pages of definitions, doesn’t touch on either communion or abandon. Also undefined is renunciation. We know (or think we know) what it means when a priest “renounces the ministry” — but just what does it mean to renounce the Doctrine, Disciple or Worship of this Church? Is renunciation the same as denunciation? How harsh does a critique have to be before renunciation is involved? Or does the renunciation only become a formal renunciation when it declares itself explicitly as such — rather like papal infallibility?

At present the confusion is exacerbated by people tossing around terms like “broken” or “impaired” communion, and declaring themselves in one state or the other. Is the Anglican Church of Rwanda a “religious body not in communion with this Church”? Legally speaking? This also affects letters dimissory, doesn’t it? And what is “formal admission” — what about an Episcopal cleric who is also a member of the Ethical Culture Society — or the Society of Friends? (I think there was a bishop from the Antipodes who was also a registered Quaker, but my memory may be faulty on that.) Some years prior to my ordination I was a dues-paying member of the Roman Catholic National Assembly of Religious Brothers: would that constitute “formal admission” or “a religious body”?

In the meantime, I will continue to pray for all in the current dispute in Connecticut, and hope that perhaps some greater clarity in terms of the nature of the charge can be worked into Title IV. I am glad to see that the proposed revision puts this charge on an equal footing with all of the other things clergy are supposed to “refrain from” — meaning a uniform mechanism for response to the charge, and a capacity for trial and appeal. Short of clarity or due process (which is IMHO very much lacking in this present Canon), I would suggest the excision of this troublesome category altogether.

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More on Sense and Consensus

The “hotter” the issue the harder it is for to capture the sense or consensus (if there is one) or even the range of opinions in a group accurately, whether by a poll or a vote of the whole body. In the Brotherhood of Saint Gregory we use a “consensus tool” in which, instead of straight up and down votes on certain matters, everyone votes on a scale of 0-10 (0=completely and utterly opposed, 10=completely and utterly in favor, and 5 as the midpoint means no opinion either way), and the results are both averaged and graphed and action taken (or not) in response.

This produces some interesting results. For instance, on subject X you might have a majority who are moderately in favor but a minority strongly opposed. For instance, four people score the issue as a 6 (mildly in favor) and three score it at a 2, rather strongly against it. If this were an “up and down” vote it would be approved, but the average is actually at 3.86, a No position. Should the “majority” who are only moderately in favor bow to the stronger feelings of the minority who are strongly opposed? (Usually in cases like this we decide to wait until we have a greater consensus!). If something like this could be worked out for the church as a whole, I think we might in fact get a reasonable sense as to the range and relative strength of opinion on any number of matters, with the caveat that just because people feel a certain way (even strongly) doesn’t make them right!

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Polling and Polity

There has been some discussion of late on the House of Bishops/Deputies list concerning two related “political” matters:

the meeting of the upcoming session of Executive Council conducting its discussions concerning future participation in the Anglican Consultative Council in closed session, and

the possibility of conducting some kind of a “poll” of the whole Episcopal Church to determine what everyone thinks about the issues before us

On the first point, according to the rules of order, although it is possible for the Executive Council to enter a closed session, no decision (other than procedural) can properly be taken during such a session. This is fairly standard in the laws of deliberative assemblies, although we are seeing unfold before us even now one of the principle exceptions: the election of a pope by the College of Cardinals.

On the second point, it seems to me that the historic documents (the XXXIX Articles) and the reflections of people like Richard Hooker and Bishop White outline the delicate balancing act that Anglicans try to maintain in their polity. Features of this include:

recognition that the laity have a voice in decisions, usually through select lay leaders, while at the same time

clergy receive, as part of their ordination, a “place in the councils of the church” and bishops are given special charge to preserve unity even in the case of disagreements

Together these two factors incline towards a “theology of leadership” as opposed to a “town-meeting-style” absolute democracy, or even, strictly speaking, representative government. The leaders are chosen not simply because they represent or mirror the opinions, desires, or beliefs of the larger body of the faithful (whether determined in a poll or a plebiscite), but because of their wisdom, skill, prudence, charity, clarity and so on.

It is a delicate balance, and the third and crucial counterweight that keeps it relatively steady is the capacity to admit to error and make corrections. Even with prudent leadership and inclusion of lay, clerical and episcopal voices, the church sometimes still errs. And the same would be true if the church operated as a strict universal democracy in which all members had an equal vote, or one in which a single monarchial figure was invested with titular infallibility — no political structure is immune from the possibility or error; and the tyranny of the mob is virtually indistinguishable from the tyranny of an elite or a sole dictator.

The greatest concern for Anglicanism at this point is not openness about the sexuality of bishops, but the move to diminish the role of the laity and “inferior” clergy in the councils perceived as instruments of unity, three out of four of which consist solely of bishops (a significant number of them not elected in a process involving the laity and clergy), and two out of four consisting solely of Primates.

The only international Anglican body that is structured in a traditional “Anglican” way (at least as Hooker and White describe it), therefore, is the Anglican Consultative Council. This is why the continued participation of the “dissenting” participants is crucial to any wholesome future for the Anglican Communion. Were the ACC to disbar the participation of the duly elected representatives from the Episcopal Church and Anglican Church of Canada — and who knows who else in coming years — any legitimacy will have been forfeited to the domination of the majority view.

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The Grim Reapers

The fields are ripe for reaping, and the laborers are few. Sadly, the few laborers seem to be spending too much time arguing about what areas should or shouldn't be reaped and by whom, what kind of reaping technology would be most effective, and the qualifications and disqualifications for being a reaper. Happy the servant who is found at work when the master returns, and woe to the servant whose preoccuption with the other servants’ suitability obstructs their work.

The Real Absence

The Primates of the Anglican Communion have requested the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Church of Canada to consider withholding their representation at the next meeting of the Anglican Consultative Council. The ACC is the only one of the four “instruments of unity” that is legitimately constituted, in that it was constitutionally ratified by a majority of the individual member churches of the Communion as a consultative body. This request will be taken up for consideration by the Executive Council of the Episcopal Church, which is canonically responsible for electing the three U.S. representatives to the ACC.

I think this request is unethical and immoral in addition to being, technically, illegitimate. Such a request, even were it to come from the ACC itself, absent due process, would be the same. I find it appalling that people who profess themselves Christians could countenance such behavior, especially when they would hardly consider doing so themselves if the shoe were translated footwise.

For instance, Ft. Worth and Pittsburgh and a few other dioceses are in a dissenting minority on some of the issues before us. These dioceses have actually taken steps that appear to neutral eyes to be unconstitutional (rejecting the legitimate governance of the church of which they purportedly form a part, as they choose, and qualifying their accession to the authority of the Episcopal Church). Would it be acceptable to these dioceses to be told that they should voluntarily refrain from sending Deputies or their Bishops to the next General Convention? (They've already withheld their money.) Would they find that honorable or reasonable, to say nothing of prudent?

I think, pace Stephen Sykes’ essay on the subject, that it is immoral and unethical for the US and Canadian churches to absent themselves from a Council in which their voices are crucial. I think that trading peace for communion (difficult as it may be) is immoral. I do not, in this case or in any other I can think of, accept the doctrine of pluriform truth. (I do think there are some things the truth of which is incompletely known, but that is about epistemology, not reality).

It is neither humble nor prudent nor decent nor honorable to submit to tyrrany in an effort to preserve a specious unity that is in fact destroying the very institution it purports to preserve.

A Memorable Daydream

I had a troubling daydream the other day.

In this daydream Diocese X chooses to have an election and call for consents that would fall due prior to the next General Convention. A majority of the bishops with jurisdiction abide by their covenant and do not consent to the election. The leaders of X accuse the bishops of inconsistency, in that some of the bishops stated they consented to the election of Bishop Robinson not because of their personal approval of him, but as a recognition that the proper forms had been observed — and they have just chosen not to follow the form in the case of the election in Diocese X.

In reflection on this daydream, I realized the following:

1) No covenant was in place for the bishops to violate in the case of Bishop Robinson, where they were free to consent or withhold consent as they saw fit. They are technically “free” in the case of Diocese X, apart from the non-binding covenant; but one would hope that they would stand by their word.

2) To chastize the bishops for not consenting as a matter of form in this case is for the leaders of X to take the position that that is all the bishops’ consent amounts to; which hardly makes their point, as the leaders of X protested this same form of argument in the case of Robinson. They would be inconsistent with themselves in calling for this consistency in others.

3) The bishops would be acting in accord with the canon, covenant or no. The consent process is not an election in which the bishops vote for or against the candidate (although it is often seen that way). Close reading of the canon indicates that this is a consent process, and the withholding of consent (which any bishop is empowered to do at any time) is in the nature of a pocket-veto rather than a No vote.

For Diocese X to ignore the bishops’ covenant and proceed with an election in this way could only be a Pyrrhic victory, or perhaps a Parthian shot.

I raise this latter as a further fear arose in my mind, that Diocese X might then ignore the canonical finding of the Presiding Bishop that the election is null, and seek the consecration of their elected candidate at the hands of some others of the domestic or foreign episcopate, on their way out of the Episcopal Church.

I earnestly hope this fantasy does not become a reality.

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The Last Temptation: A Lenten Meditation

Those of you who have seen the film (or better, read the book) will recall that the last temptation of Christ was to come down from the cross, not in a show of spectacular deliverance with legions of angels, but in renunciation of his messiahship to take up life as a simple Galilean carpenter, married with children, ending his life in obscurity. As we know from the other book (and countless films) he didn’t.

Jesus Christ did not commit suicide. He was executed at the instigation of religious leaders and at the hands of the state, for alleged crimes against both. Yes, he could, at any number of points, have prevented his execution by ceasing to do the things he had done, ceasing to claim the things he had claimed. Engaging a simple moratorium on public speaking would have done wonders for his longevity. But he didn’t. He kept doing what he knew was right (anguished enough about it and pleading for another way, another path, to the point of sweating blood). And they crucified him.

One of those in the conspiracy surrounding his end saw this as a way to preserve the status quo of uneasy peace between imbalanced forces; he thought it expedient that one should thus suffer for the sake of so many. Another, a politician from the north, saw this as a way to heal the breach with his opposite number, the governor in the capital; and they became fast friends. Victims come in handy when you want to displace anxiety, and ease tensions in the body politic—or ecclesiastic.

They urged him to repent and recant, to take back the discomfiting words that had so upset the equilibrium of the system—or otherwise to prove himself to be who he claimed to be with a show of power and might. But he didn’t.

Countless of his followers similarly were offered easy ways to keep the peace: to say, or cease from saying, a form of words—what is a word, after all; just air is it not? To drop a single grain of incense on the coals before the statue of the emperor—so simple, so meaningless; a trivial act to save your life! But they didn’t.

When the history of our present time is written centuries from now, what will be recorded? Did they, or didn’t they?

In the peace of Christ, which is no peace, but strife closed in the sod,

Tobias+

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Plans and Blessings

St Thomas Mamaronceck • Episcopal Diocese of New York Strategic Planning Conference

Good morning, and welcome to the first Diocesan Strategic Planning Conference. My name is Tobias Haller. I am the Vicar of Saint James Church Fordham in the Bronx, and I served as the chair of the Diocesan Trustees’ Strategic Planning Committee.

Strategic Planning is another name for Long-Range Planning. Depending on your line of work, “long-range” can mean a number of different things. A butcher will keep an ear open for the news about beef-futures, and such matters as mad cows roaming the frosty fields of Canada. If you run a bakery, and know that your oven has a useful life of a dozen years, your long-range plans will include saving to purchase new equipment around that time. And the candlestick makers will try to keep abreast not only of the buzz in the bee-business, but the trends and fashions in demand for new scents and colors and shapes.

Of course, we in the church, unlike butchers, bakers and candlestick makers, and other allied manufacturing and retail trades, are faced with a different situation. First there is the “durability factor.” Looking backward in time, we can see that we are not part of an entity that we started up, nor even one started by our immediate predecessors. Nor, on the other hand, are we looking forward only one generation ahead, to those to whom we might pass along the family business. Rather, we are part of an enterprise that has been in continuous operation for two thousand years, and which we trust will prevail until the end of time, when the King returns in glory, and all of us stewards and managers will have to render our accounts. We have not only received a precious heritage, but a great responsibility and trust. So looking down the road a few years could only be thought prudent!

Second, and perhaps more importantly, unlike a business or trade, we don’t have a product to sell, but a story to tell, a word of Good News to spread and share. And we believe that the message we carry is not just a diverting story to pass the time, but important news vital to the life of the world.

So our primary task involves spreading a message, a spiritual message. Nonetheless we daily confront the fact that the means by which we spread that message, the tools we use to bear that witness, are physical and personal. The church of which we are members, and in which we serve, is not simply spiritual, but also institutional: and as the mystery of the Incarnation itself teaches us, the Word of God is spread in and through flesh and blood. A task and commission has been given to us, from the wounded hands of Jesus passed down these twenty centuries to our hands, a task and commission inspired by God’s Holy Spirit, but worked out by means of flesh and blood.

And, as we will explore further today, not flesh and blood only — the human resources of clergy and lay leadership — but in bricks and mortar, in balance sheets and bank accounts and stocks and bonds. We will look down the road to see how many clergy will be serving ten years from now, when a large number of those in parish ministry at present have reached retirement age. We will examine how the next generation of lay and clergy leaders is being nurtured and educated. We will take stock of our church buildings, without which we would have no place to gather for worship and ministry, and which stand as physical reminders of the church’s presence and identity on so many town squares and country hills and urban street-corners. These are the service centers of God’s mission and our mission, the outward and visible signs that the church is here and ready to serve — and should we fail in this, the stones themselves will testify to our lack of imagination.

It is a daunting prospect at times. The financial cost of maintaining a well-trained body of clergy, of educating and equipping the lay leaders and members to do their work in the church and the world, and keeping our church buildings in good repair, all have a major impact on our future ability to serve.

Take church buildings, for example. And I am tempted to add comedian Henny Youngman’s, “Please!” Instead, let me look for a more biblical word. When Moses reached the borders of the Promised Land, he said to the people of Israel, “I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse.” (Deut 11:26). As the priest of a parish that had to spend almost half-a-million dollars to repair the roof of its historic landmark building, let me tell you I can resonate with that sentiment! That historic building is a blessing, but it comes with a cost! Some of us, no doubt, have often wondered what our predecessors were thinking as they built so massively in wood and fieldstone and granite — and as Groucho Marx observed, “You can even get stucco. Boy can you get stucco!” How many of our ancestors in the church ceremoniously burned the mortgage when the bank loan for the building was paid off, as if that was the end of the expenses involved in maintaining and caring for a building? Dare I ask further, How many life-long members of some of our churches now find themselves unable to enter the very buildings whose continued existence testifies to their financial support, because the impressive stone stairways bar their entrance? And what of the very different message Gothic architecture sends to children today? Not too long ago a child stopped me on the street outside my church and asked if it was a haunted house! Talk about culture-shock!

However, at the same time, I think God is reminding all of us that while there are always difficulties, yet we are called “in all things to give thanks.” (1Th 5:18) We dare not see these difficulties as a curse — for if we do, we admit defeat. I was, for example, able to turn that child’s question about a haunted house into an opportunity to teach him something about the church, about how long it had stood there, and what it stood for. If we can come to see our church buildings and the issues surrounding them not as curses, but as blessings, not even simply as challenges but as opportunities; and not even only as opportunities but as tools for the worship of God, for the spread of the gospel, for the mission to a spiritually and physically hungry world, then we can begin to see not only how important is our stewardship and care of these resources, but begin to imagine new ways to adapt and adjust to the changes in the world around us.

The same can be said of our worship. There will always be the temptation to jump on the bandwagon of success that some of the non-denominational mega-churches appear to have in shaping their worship to meet the needs of a generation raised with short attention spans. The question is: will this in the end produce a lasting congregation of members or a transient audience of customers. We Episcopalians are fortunate not only to have a finger on the pulse of the modern world, and the capacity to look to the future, but a rich tradition that reaches back centuries and includes many cultures. This is a great tradition that many parishes have drawn on, recovering the deep spiritual nourishment in ancient practices of prayer and worship. They have found — ironically enough — that Generations X, Y and so on, are hungry for food that will sustain them on the journey, rather than a snack; and are seeking a direction for their lives rather than mere diversion for the moment.

In looking at our worship as at our buildings, it will be important to distinguish between tradition and its poor cousins: custom and habit. It will be important as we look at present and future needs, to challenge the proverbial claim, “We’ve always done it that way,” and in doing so perhaps discover that what we always thought was a hallowed tradition dates back no more than a generation. As Diana Butler Bass says in her excellent study, The Practicing Congregation, “In every generation of Christian history, faithful congregations have selected and reshaped tradition, developing patterns that reflect transcendent realities in ways that speak to the surrounding culture.” This is challenging work, but it will also be enriching and rewarding, as we dig deep into the wealth of our past as well as making best use of the possibilities of our present: like the wise householders of whom Jesus spoke, who bring out of their treasury both the old and the new. (Matt 13:52) Fully to make use of our blessings will require the twin skills of memory and hope — and imagination.

And it is the same with financial endowments, with the skills and talents of the leaders and members of the congregations — you and I — who, working together with our Bishop and the staff who serve the diocese, are seeking to do what we believe is not just a task, but a mission.

Our Lord gave us an image of long-range planning in Luke’s Gospel, when he asked, “Which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it?” (Luke 14:28) Many of us, faced with the difficulties just of managing from day to day, are likely to appeal to another of our Lord’s admonitions, “Take no thought for the morrow”! (Matt 6:34) The good news is that we are not alone in this enterprise, this mission, and the immediate matters need not overwhelm us because ultimately we are not simply butchers or bakers or candlestick makers — we are the people of God, and trust and know that God, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.

So let us today ask, let us imagine. And above all, let us trust that God will supply us with the courage to face the days and months and decades ahead, confident that God’s church and God’s mission will not fail.

In a few moments our Bishop will expand on these thoughts and lay out some of his hopes and direction for our future work together. We will then have an opportunity to gather in groups to address some of these specifics in greater detail, and then after Noonday Prayer and lunch, we will have a chance to hear from those who have explored each area of concern. Then we will have time to reflect as a body on the specific role that the Bishop, the wider Episcopal fellowship both within our diocese, throughout the Episcopal Church and in the broader Anglican Communion, as well as the resources of our diocesan staff, can play in empowering our future together.

And so now, without further ado, I give you our Bishop, the Right Rev. Mark S. Sisk. +++

Another Kind of (Ex)Primate

I just got back from basking in the glow of one of the truly great
leaders of our church. Archbishop Desmond M Tutu was declared this
afternoon a Doctor of Humane Letters, honoris causa, at Fordham
University here in the Bronx. I was so happy to be able to have this
great man in my parish — if not in my parish church! (Saint James
Episcopal is the old "manor church" of the Fordham area; I'm fond of
noting the number of Jesuits who are within my parish bounds!)

There were many speeches and some stirring song from a South African
vocal ensemble. But the highlight was +Desmond's "Response" to the
honorary degree. With his usual good humor and infectious charm, he laid
out a vision of a church and a world based on "truth and reconciliation"
and the radical inclusion of God, who, as last week's Gospel reminded
us, sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world but to save it,
and who was lifted high upon the cross to call to himself (and here the
Archbishop's voice stilled to a whisper perfectly audible in the great
University Church) — "all... all... all... held in the embrace of God!"
The heading of the citation for the Degree had the following quote from
+Desmond: "For our nation to heal and become a more humane place, we had
to embrace our enemies as well as our friends."

I hope the still-active Primates hear this word from a retired colleague
as they continue to work in secluded privacy. I hope that those who
cannot see their fellows as friends, might treat them at least and at
last as well as Christ commanded us to treat our enemies.

Yes, the Scripture does lay before us, in Paul's words, the language of
purity and separation and shunning "the sinner" — but I've always
wondered to what extent the Gospels were recorded as an objective and
communal corrective to Paul's rather subjective and personal experience
of things; and the Gospels seem to lay out for us this better way of
forbearance in judgment, charity in disagreement, and humility in the
change of heart that is required of us all. I have seen these qualities
in Desmond M Tutu, and I wish I could say the same of all of the
Primates — and of all of God's people.

Cost and payment

If there can be, as Archbishop Williams has said, no "cost-free" outcome to the present impasse, it might be well to review the ethics of cost and sacrifice. It is always appropriate, indeed Jesus tells us that it is the highest virtue, to sacrifice oneself for the sake of others. But the gospel also shows us the ultimate evil of the opposite choice: the decision to sacrifice another for one's own, or one's people's own, sake. This was the choice that it was "expedient that one should die for the sake of the many."

The miracle is that Jesus transformed even this ultimate wrong into a saving act, by choosing not to deliver himself (as he assures us he was fully capable of doing) from the wrong judgment brought against him.

Jesus did not undo the choice that Caiaphas made, but transformed it. Caiaphas acted out of fear and expediency, Christ out of charity. The same kinds of choices face us now; and since Christ has redeemed us all, and paid the cost "once for all," is it truly impossible to find a way forward without anyone laying a burden on anyone else's shoulders? We are all called, after all, each of us to take up our own crosses, and rather clearly forbidden from laying them on others.

It is time indeed to count the cost of discipleship. Woe to those who exact it.

The Monotonist Liturgy

a satire

I would like to report on a liturgical discovery made quite by chance recently. In a dusty copy of an old liturgical book, I came across what appear to be fragments of an early liturgy from a little-known heretical movement, Monotonism. The heresy takes its name from its originator Monotonus of Crete, who, among other things, was intent on unifying the concepts of kairos and chronos, and proclaiming that the eschaton had both already happened and yet was to be postponed indefinitely by a two-thirds vote of the Synod, motion undebatable. He appears to have been unduly influenced by the thought of Zeno (or Xeno) of Elea.

It appears that Monotonus produced little else apart from this Liturgy, though there are scattered references in later sources to a very detailed Monotonus’ Rules of Order, now lost.

The concerns of this heretical group are reflected in the fragmentary liturgy, which survives only in this very damaged manuscript copy. It is very late, probably dating to the last half of the last century, as it is written in ball-point on the bottom halves of what appear to be leaves of a legal pad. I provide here a transcript in translation.

The Liturgy of SS. Stasis and Perpetua

The Deacon goes to the Royal Doors, the subdeacons all the while shaking their sistrums and looking at the Wonder-Working Icon of the Clock Made With No Hands. The Deacon prostrates, and asks

Deacon: Are you done in there yet?

Celebrant: Not yet. [Lit., "It is not yet the time."]

. . . . . . .

. . . as the Procession takes two steps forward in honor of the divine and human natures and one step backwards in honor of the unity of persons....

. . . . . . .

[Dea]con:Have you anything to add?

Celebrant:Yea, verily.

Deacon:Silence. The Divine speaks. Again.

. . . . . . .

[The] Gospel book is moved from the right hand of the altar to the left and then back again.

. . . . . . .

Deacon:Could you please repeat that.

Celebrant:God willing and the people consenting.

People:He is worthy to be heard!

Celebrant:You are too kind.

People:No, really. Please continue.

A period of silence follows....

[The ms. breaks off here.]

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When a Church Has Cause to Repent

A few years ago a major church body publicly repented of its past actions and positions. It did so not only under the pressure of conscience and a growing inner awareness of the harm they had caused, nor merely because the world church fellowship to which they belonged had broken communion with them pending their repentance, but in actual acknowledgement that they had done wrong, and worse, had offered a theological defense for their sin. That is what repentance is about: not mere regret for harm done, but a full and complete admission of the sinfullness of the error, with the acknowledgement of the harm done, and if appropriate, reparation.

I am, of course, speaking of the eventual repentance of the Dutch Reformed Church for its support and theological defense of apartheid.

In the present situation in which we find ourselves, I do not believe the Episcopal Church to have erred or done anything worthy of repentance. The recent House of Bishops' expression of regret is fully appropriate, but at this point I think there are some regrets due from the “other side” of this issue. Surely the “reasserter” position has demonstrably caused, through the centuries, objectively more human misery and suffering than has the position advanced by the Episcopal Church in this present day and time. As with apartheid, it is, perhaps, the reasserters who need the metanoia they so loudly clamor for in others.

“A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

You can read about the call from the World Alliance of Reformed Churches here: An Address to the Synod and the action of the Dutch Reformed Church at Report on the Synod Action.

How, Not Why

In some discussion on the Titusonenine blog concerning my note on Bishop Howe’s proposal, it became clearer to me something of what separates the world view of this particular “reappraiser” from that of many of the “reasserters.” This is the larger question of what constitutes “authority.” I’ve seen this reflected in the reasserters’ blog postings in a concern for “credentials” and in the tendency to collate citations, or lists of critics who agree with ones position (ignoring all those that don’t) and then consider the matter closed. Neither of these actually go to prove or disprove a point, they merely add voices to the debate. As one who believes in objective truth, I would affirm that an idea is right and true (or wrong and false) not on the basis of who says it or who believes it, but on its own standard.

One of the reasserters challenged my citing Aquinas on this matter while not accepting his authority on sexual morality. This reflects a misunderstanding of my intent: when I cite someone like Aquinas or Hooker, it is not to “prove” a point on the basis of his “authority” - it is rather for one or both of two reasons:

1) to demonstrate (contrary to an allegation or assumption explicit or implicit in the discussion) that this particular point of view is articulated in the tradition (which is a matter of precedent, which is not binding, but may be persuasive), or

2) because it is said particularly well or clearly.

Neither of these bears authority to my mind. Many things have been said in the tradition that were later found to be mistaken, and the mere compilation of a list of statements agreeable to ones position proves nothing. It does go to show that you are not alone, but it does not prove you to be correct.

Finally, in case anyone is confused: I am not objecting to the substance of Bishop Howe’s proposal but its form: the House of Bishops has no authority to impose a “moratorium” but it does have the authority to ask its members to refrain from a given action. I admire Bishop Howe’s whole charitable and open approach, which I wish more would emulate.

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Bishop Howe’s Proposal

Bishop John Howe of Central Florida has written to the House of Bishops suggesting that a clear response to the Windsor Report be taken up at their next meeting. This includes the recommendation that the bishops “agree to a moratorium on same sex-blessings and the consecration of non-celibate homosexual persons until or unless a ‘new consensus’ emerges in the Communion that such actions are seen as legitimate in the light of Scripture and Christian tradition.”
The House of Bishops’ adoption of such a moratorium raises several issues. Most seriously, it concerns the abrogation of a fundamental right of dioceses and provinces to elect, approve, and consecrate leaders of their own choosing, in accordance with our form of church government. Aquinas held the right of people “to choose their rulers” to be a matter of Divine Law, and it is certainly deeply embedded in the American psyche. (see note below)
Since potential abrogation of rights is concerned in this case, it must come under the rubric of “What touches all must be approved by all.” (see the note on this below) Therefore a mere majority of the House of Bishops, or even an overwhelming one, would be insufficient to impose such a moratorium in a strict form of binding mandate. Moreover, since in our polity the election and consecration of Bishops is not in the hand of the House of Bishops, but actually in the hands of the bishops with jurisdiction and the Standing Committees or House of Deputies such a matter would only finally be decided by the General Convention in session.
That is, if we are talking of a legally binding moratorium or stay. Because it is true that a majority of the bishops with jursidction, acting on their own, could by their refusal to consent to such elections exercise the equivalent effective result of such a moratorium. So too could the various Standing Committees of the dioceses. Clearly they are free so to do — but this is a matter of the exercise of their personal individual judgment, not of the assembly as a whole.
I would suggest that Bishop Howe consider wording his motion as a recommendation towards collegial restraint rather than as an authoritative mandate from above, in order to prevent what might well appear to be a constitutional crisis.

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Aquinas writes in Summa Theologica I.II.Q105.1 concerning the form of governance of the People of God designated for Israel under the Old Testament, which he presents as an ideal:

I answer that... all should take some share in the government: for this form of constitution ensures peace among the people, commends itself to all, and is most enduring, as stated in Polit. ii, 6... Accordingly, the best form of government is in a state or kingdom, where one is given the power to preside over all; while under him are others having governing powers: and yet a government of this kind is shared by all, both because all are eligible to govern, and because the rulers are chosen by all. For this is the best form of polity, being partly kingdom, since there is one at the head of all; partly aristocracy, in so far as a number of persons are set in authority; partly democracy, i.e. government by the people, in so far as the rulers can be chosen from the people, and the people have the right to choose their rulers. Such was the form of government established by the Divine Law.

A further note on “What Touches All”

A full-fledged moratorium which would legally bind bishops not to approve of the consecration of Candidate Whoever requires a unanimous vote under the principle, “What touches all must be approved by all.” I’ve laid out the full legal background on the history of that law elsewhere in this blog. But “all” means “all” in this case, because a fundamental right (the voting franchise itself) is abrogated by an affirmative vote. It would be inappropriate for the House of Bishops, some of whom (as suffragans, for example) do not have the right or responsibility to consent to an episcopal election, to bind the bishops with jurisdiction to act in a way contrary to their informed judgement in some future case.
The original Justinian law had to do with water rights, which is a little obscure. Closer to home, imagine someone on the vestry proposes a resolution that says, “No one may vote Yes on any resolution to increase the Rector’s salary.” Such a resolution would have to be unanimous because it proactively takes the vote away from everyone concerned. It touches all because it affects a fundamental individual right possessed by all. If “all” agree, fine. But if only 9 out of 10 agree, they have effectively stolen someone’s vote. And what if it is only 6 out of 10? (This is not the same thing, by the way, as voting not to raise the Rector’s salary; that is, sadly, usually accomplished by a simple majority!)

A response to William Witt

Dr William Witt has written a long and thoughtful response to my short essay on the authority of the Church in relation to the Scripture. I will attempt to address some of the issues he raises.

His response reflects, I find, the major problem with the “reasserter” side of the debate: the tendency to reassert the premise rather than to argue in its support, to restate the premise in other forms, or assemble authorities who restate the premise. This is the logical fallacy of “begging the question.” The difficulty is that it is precisely the premise upon which we disagree: that, as Witt puts it, “sexual relations are restricted to the context intended by God when he created humanity in his image, as male and female.” The question is, is this assertion accurate?

Strangely enough, Witt appears to deny and then concede a basic premise upon which I work. In one paragraph he says, that I and some other “revisionists” insist “that the Church can still endorse something that violates the plain sense reading of Scripture, and in doing so can still somehow be faithful to the teaching of Scripture—a handy trick if one can pull it off,” and then two paragraphs later, concedes, that I “point out correctly that the Church has not considered itself to be bound by every prescription or proscription in Scripture. He recognizes that the Church has developed a hermeneutic by which it decides which passages of Scripture are considered normative for ethical guidance and which are not.”

However, Witt mis-summarizes the argument (as he did the argument of the paper to which I contributed a few years ago, “Let the Reader Understand”) as “The Church does not obey what the Bible says about X; therefore the Church does not have to obey what the Bible says about same-sex sexual relations.” A correct summary would be, “The Church has formally set aside the biblical requirement or prohibition concerning X, and the same principles on which it did so may be applied to the case of same-sex relationships.” Perhaps Witt does not see the difference between these two statements; if so, we may be at the nub of the disagreement. For I am not advocating an “anything goes” view, in which the church can set aside anything because it has set aside something, but one based on the consistent application of the principles actually at work in the church’s authoritative judgment as to what is right and wrong, moral or immoral. Consistency is the watchword, to which I will return below. For the moment, I note that Witt does not actually address the list of hermeneutical principles with which I closed my essay, and which I believe to be consistent with the principles actually used by the church in making its judgments concerning Scripture.

Witt then launches into an interesting, but I think off-the-point, analysis of church history. I am quite aware of the distinct meanings given to the word church in my essay, and since Witt correctly understands when I move from one to the other I fail to see why he finds this ambiguous. Where we differ is in his belief that my use of “the national church” is idiosyncratic. He asks, “In what sense can a small American denomination of less than 2 million members, and less than a million regular communicants, think of itself as the ‘church’?” I would respond, first of all, that it is the church to which I belong, the one in which I was baptized, and the one that ordained me a priest. More importantly, I would ask, How did the Church of England (admittedly more “national” in the sense of uniformity than is the Episcopal Church in the Americas, but still not unanimous in that there were many loyal Roman Catholics in England) at the time of the Reformation become so bold as not only to interpret and apply the Scripture to its liking, but to alter the canon of Scripture itself?

When Witt says, “In recognizing the canon of Scripture, the church ‘interprets’ Scripture by submitting to its authority. It does not ‘judge’ Scripture” he is not only reversing his position on whether the church can set aside portions of the Scripture or not (which is clearly what I mean by “judging” the Scripture) but leaves hanging the question of “Which canon of Scripture are you talking about?” — Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Anglican, or Protestant?

Witt ends the first section of his response by repeating the reasserters’ claim that the sexuality issue is one of doctrine, not discipline, and of such a nature that no local or national church dare change it; again begging the question that is at the heart of the debate. In an effort to establish a doctrinal basis for his claim, he therefore launches into an attempt to undermine my argument that the “moral law” cited by Hooker refers back to the Decalogue (following Jesus’ own example when confronting the lawyer) and offers that homosexuality is “covered” under the commandment against adultery.

First of all this can at most put the question into the realm of moral or pastoral theology. But secondly, the assertion that homosexuality is included under the rubric of adultery remains unproven. How do we distinguish which acts not explicitly enumerated come under the Decalogue and which don’t — for clearly we do make such decisions! That is the question that must be answered. The concluding principles at the end of my essay, the second of which acknowledges that many other matters come under the sway of the Decalogue or Christ's Summary, are an effort at such an answer, but Witt fails to address them.

So we then come to a favorite tool of the reasserters: a collection of reassertions. But it is not enough simply to show that Augustine or Aquinas or Hooker thought so-and-so, or even Saint Paul. The assembly of a florilegium tells us no more than that the preponderance of the Christian tradition thought homosexuality was wrong. We know that. The question is, were they correct in this?

The “classical” argument, as Witt summarizes it (citing Augustine), is that “Same-sex sexual activity would always be condemned by divine law because it conflicts with the nature of humanity as created by God, destroying the bond of love that should exist between God and humanity by violating the human nature of which God is the Creator (Confessions 3.8.15).” There are a number of problems with this argument, not least that we are now more aware of the fact (and I am bold enough to call it a fact) that same-sex sexuality is neither “against nature” nor “contrary to nature” but is rather part of the created order, which admittedly we do not fully understand. This does not, mind you, make it morally good (or bad), but it does necessitate a shift in the argument from one based on “natural law” — especially one that takes the Genesis creation accounts as if they were historical records of the actual origins of the created universe (which reason should have prevented in any case, since the two accounts are not congruent in significant details concerning the very matter before us!)

To date, the primary argument of the reasserters, including Witt, is the restatement of the premise that sexual dimorphism somehow reveals a “natural complementarity” that limits the moral range of sexual behavior. He argues (following Barth) that the appropriate “other” in human relationships must be a member of the opposite sex. This is a weak point in Barth, bordering on heresy, since if, as Barth puts it, man can be man only in relation to woman, what of Jesus Christ as the complete and true man, whose relations to women were not of a sexual sort? (Indeed, to be fair, late in life Barth appears to have realized he went too far in this assertion, but was too busy to rewrite the relevant portions of Book III of his Dogmatics.) More importantly, this notion of a sexual basis for human society is contrary to Jesus’ teaching that “those worthy of the resurrection do not marry...” If there can be no society in the life of the resurrection (since the reasserters hold marriage to be the basis of human society), then what is the risen life about?

Finally, to return to the note of “consistency” I mentioned at the outset, as the ultimate “authority,” some reasserters (although not Witt himself in this particular essay) bring forward Jesus’ own statement concerning the creation accounts. Surely his words on the subject should hold a central place if we are to understand God’s “intent for humanity” — that from the beginning God made them male and female, and for this reason a man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife and they become one flesh. (Matt 19:5, citing Genesis 1 and 2). The reasserters take this as a prohibition of homosexual activity, generally completely ignoring that Jesus intended it as a prohibition of divorce. When I begin to hear the reasserters state that divorce is contrary to the natural law, and God’s positive law and “intent for humanity,” and call for the resignation of all divorced and remarried clergy (including some of their most vocal leadership) and the prohibition of the ordination of such people, and the threat of dissolution of communion should all these demands not be met, it will then and only then be time to take up the secondary question and see if this citation from the Gospel has anything to do with same-sex relationships. They should take Jesus at his word before applying his words by conjecture to another question entirely.

William Witt responds to Tobias Haller

More on ‘What Touches All’

The authors of the Windsor Report misapply the legal principle, “What touches all must be approved by all.” (This law was part of Justinian’s Code, dealing originally with water and property rights, but later broadened considerably in its scope of application. It made a rather late appearance in the canon law via the good graces of Gratian. It is in the present Roman Catholic Code of Canon Law at §119.3).

The WR seeks to apply this law against the “innovation” of a church consecrating as a bishop a man who lives in a same-gender relationship. As I have already noted, the act of consecration does not “touch all” in that no one’s rights are abridged or limited by this consecration, and it is within the rights and powers of any other diocese or province to disallow such a bishop functioning as such outside his own diocese. In addition, strictly speaking, this consecration was not innovative. The only novelty in the presenting case was that it was done openly and advisedly.

Bartolome de las Casas, in his fight to defend the native people of the Americas against Spanish enslavement, drew upon the Justinian legal principle in their defense. Here is a relevant comment:

Las Casas wrote, in a famous phrase, “All the races of humankind are one.” And so, arguing from this conviction, he claimed human rights for the Indians, a right to liberty, a right to own property, a right of self-defense, a right to form their own governments. Las Casas eventually wrote a whole shelf of books in defense of the Indians, but his underlying thought is expressed in just one line from one of them: “They are our brothers, and Christ died for them.” But, although Las Casas wrote out of this deep religious commitment, he also saw the need to defend Indian rights in terms of reason and law that could have the widest appeal. Indeed, his work is especially interesting in the present context because he appealed overtly and frequently to the juridical tradition that undergirded the earlier development of natural rights theories. To give just one example, he took up an old maxim of the medieval jurists—Quod omnes tangit (“What touches all is to be approved by all”)—and used it to prove that Spanish rule in America could be legitimate only if the Indians consented to it, for the matter certainly “touched” them. The quirk in Las Casas’ argument was that he applied it to each individual Indian. Where the natural right to liberty was concerned, the consent of a majority could not prejudice the rights of minority individuals withholding consent. The claim of the minority dissenters should prevail.... (from Brian Tierney, “The Idea of Natural Rights,” NWU Journal of International Human Rights, April 2004, ¶28)

So, by analogy, efforts at pan-Anglican restriction on the rights of American (or any) dioceses to ordain the persons of their choosing can only be legitimate if all of the dioceses concerned consent to the restriction. Note here I am not talking of any spurious “right to be ordained” but of the right of the competent church authorities to ordain persons of their choosing.

I would also point out that the lack of inclusion of the voices of those most affected by the decisions of Lambeth (most particularly Bishop Robinson himself) represents a serious breach of this principle as well, I fear having crossed over from the merely illegal to the immoral.

On the other hand, a proper application of this legal principle, mistakenly invoked by the WR in favor of the majority, protects and defends the minority actions of New Hampshire and the Episcopal Church in the face of any surmised superior authority. As the Lambeth Conference was neither legitimately assembled as a legislative body, nor acting unanimously in a way that protected the rights of all individual bishops, its actions can only be taken as advisory or recommendatory.

 

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What Touches All

The Windsor Report refers to the notion “what touches all must be decided by all” as an ancient canonical principle (¶ 51), although I haven’t been able to locate the ancient canon referred to. In the WR Proposed Covenant, ¶ 20, “decided” becomes “approved” -- which more accurately reflects the ancient Roman private law, “Quod omnes tangit debet ab omnibus approbari.” (Code V,59,5,2). The point of this law is that in any decision of a body that concerns each member of the body in terms of individual rights, as opposed to the actions and rights of the body as a whole, no decision can be made without the universal approval of all. A single opponent to the action is enough to defeat it, since the action might be held to abridge a fundamental right appertaining to the individual. We are talking about approval, not decision, and all means all.

This is made clear in Johannes Althusius’ Politics, when he states:

“In those matters that are to be done necessarily by the collegium, a majority is certainly sufficient, provided that in making decisions two-thirds of the collegium is present. The reason is that what is common to everyone is not my private concern alone.... However, in matters common to all one by one, or pertaining to colleagues as individuals, a majority does not prevail. In this case, ‘what touches all ought also to be approved by all’. Even one person is able to object. The reason is that in this case what is common to everyone is also my private concern. In these things that are merely voluntary nothing ought to be done unless all consent, not separately and at different times, but corporately and unanimously.” (Chapter IV: The Collegium)

Thus the 1998 Lambeth Conference Resolution 1.10, must be held as a recommendation concerning the appropriateness of ordaining persons living in same-gender unions. (The precise wording of the resolution, in any case, is “cannot advise,” so the Conference seems to understand it cannot legislate this matter). This resolution cannot be held to be binding upon all provinces and dioceses without their explicit consent, since it would restrict a right that belongs only to those entities. Ordination, as the ancient canons most definitely do point out (see Chalcedon VI, for example), while having global implications, is by its very nature local in its institution, and the right to ordain is strictly allowed only to those canonically authorized to do so in a particular place, as part of their “ordinary jurisdiction.” So any restriction on ordination must be assented to by all with the right to ordain, which is to say, all bishops, not simply a majority of them, since it constitutes an abridgement of a right or power that resides at the diocesan level for the ordination of priests and deacons, and at the provincial level for the ordination of bishops. This is subsidiarity at work: ordinations are not undertaken at the Communion level, but only at the level of diocese or province.

Thus, claims of the Primates and others notwithstanding, the Diocese of New Hampshire in electing Gene Robinson, and the Episcopal Church in approving his ordination, did not “tear” any “fabric” other than one woven from whole cloth.

 

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Questions for Reasserters

Questons for Reasserters
See the excellent questions posed by the Salty Vicar. Good not only for “reasserters” but for anyone who takes the scripture seriously, which includes most “reassesors” as well, and maybe even more, since they assess as well as assert. The questions include:

How do you think the role of blood in the ancient world has changed from our understanding of blood?

How do you determine the criteria for interpreting scripture allegorically or literally?

How do you think property and sexuality are related to each other in scripture and today? Is there any difference?

How you might convince a non-religious person, without using religious language, that the Bible is reliable? How is it reliable?

And many more thought-provokers.
Well done Salty!

Baptism, Communion / Laity and Lambeth

In the discussion of baptism before communion now before us, let’s not forget that for a long time confirmation was required in order to receive communion in the Episcopal Church. How that policy changed serves to illustrate the autonomy of provinces, in contrast with the role of Lambeth as a place for discussion rather than decision.

The order of receiving sacraments was altered in England long prior to the Reformation by Archbishop Peckham, who required confirmation of those who wished to be communicants. By a process of inheritance, the various national churches of the Anglican Communion retained this limitation (with some minor alteration to provide for those “ready and desirous” of Confirmation but unable to be confirmed due to a scarcity of bishops).

The peculiar practice of confirmed communion came into question in the last century, however, as interreligious dialogue and liturgical renewal reminded Anglicans worldwide of the anomalous character of this hallowed tradition, and discussion began in earnest to remove the “confirmation bar.” The Lambeth Conference of 1948, however, felt that such a change was “not desirable” and called for the retention of the traditional (for Anglicans, anyway) order of Baptism, Confirmation, and admission to Holy Communion. (Paragraph 103, section V.B.) By 1968, the Lambeth Conference was recommending that provinces “experiment” with permitting those baptized but not confirmed to receive communion. (Resolution 25). The 1978 Conference apparently lost interest in the subject, due to the more immediate concerns raised by the emergence of the ordination of women. In the meantime, the Episcopal Church had set in motion a complete repeal of the “confirmation ban” — not as an “experiment” but as a new practice. However, in 1988 (Res. 69) the Lambeth Conference was still not of one mind, and chose to refer the issue to the ACC.

The Disappearing Laity

One of the vexed questions before us is the authority of Lambeth itself. The Lambeth Conference itself seems to forget, and then recall, from time to time, its own nature as a consultative conference, and the important role the Laity (and for that matter, the Clergy) ought to play in forming Anglican tradition and theology.

Over the last decades there has been a focus upon the Bishops (note increased number of meetings of the House of Bishops in our own church) and Primates. I understand that these domestic meetings were in part efforts to “keep the peace” by bringing bishops of divergent opinion face to face in the hopes they would find it easier to get along if they spent more time in dialogue. I think this is an excellent idea, but I fear a by-product of these meetings is the feeling among those gathered that these episcopal sessions have greater authority than either canon or tradition warrants.

This shift is illustrated in two Lambeth resolutions from ten years apart. In 1968, Lambeth stated “The Conference recommends that no major issue in the life of the Church should be decided without the full participation of the laity in discussion and in decision.” (Resolution 24)

Yet in 1978 (Resolution 11) Lambeth said, “The Conference advises member Churches not to take action regarding issues which are of concern to the whole Anglican Communion without consultation with a Lambeth Conference or with the episcopate through the Primates Committee, and requests the primates to initiate a study of the nature of authority within the Anglican Communion.”

Now as long as “consultation” isn’t interpreted as “seeking permission” this is fine. In fact, on the matter of women’s ordination, the Conference was “consulted” and the Primates “studied” the matter — but neither the consultation nor the study prevented (or was thought capable of preventing) the individual provinces from moving forward as they saw fit (to accept or reject this development).

A note on patience...

Patience does not imply inaction, nor is it reasonable to require absolute unanimity before a change is made in a given practice. (This is simply the way the church works, historically. As Newman pointed out many years ago in his essay on the development of doctrine, the Vincentian Canon is a kind of “legal fiction” since there have always been at least some who have rejected even the seemingly most basic credenda).

For us Anglicans, the dynamic of authority in the communion has been and is best worked out when each unit of the communion (with laity, clergy and bishops working together or in their separate orders) exercises its decision-making capability for the matters that it is competent (in accord with canon and tradition) to decide, even if those decisions may lead to a situation in which all things are not “in all places the same.” This is particularly true in questions of “rites and ceremonies” — which includes (and was believed by the framers of Anglicanism’s foundation documents to include) marriage and ordination.

 

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The Authority of Scripture

Who's in charge: Judging the Scriptures

Tobias S. Haller BSG

The question of Scriptural versus Ecclesiastical authority, while full of rich and complex nuances, is most certainly not a question of which came first, chicken or egg. While the Hebrew Scriptures clearly precede the foundation of the Christian church, the Holy Bible as we know it was assembled and authorized by that very church. The question of how far the church is limited by Scripture, and how much authority the church has over it, is laid out, for Anglicans, in the Articles of Religion, to which I will return in a moment.

For the present, let me second Fr. Gerald Keucher's observation that there is no reading without interpretation. This is not a novel premise of postmodernism; it is something of which the Rabbis and the Church Fathers were well aware, as they discussed the levels of meaning inherent in the sacred texts. As Richard Hooker would point out, even the "plain meaning" of Scripture is subject to human reason and human authority. "Even such as are readiest to cite for one thing five hundred sentences of holy Scripture; what warrant have they, that any one of them doth mean the thing for which it is alleged? Is not their surest ground most commonly, either some probable conjecture of their own, or the judgment of others taking those Scriptures as they do?" (Laws, II.VII.8)

But there is more. There are some texts that are perfectly "plain" which nonetheless the church has chosen, in its wisdom, to set aside or allow to fade into obscurity. Few if any Christians will hold that all people must abide by the literal mandates of the entire biblical text. All Christian churches clearly make choices as to what applies to them (and others) and what doesn't, and Christians have been doing so from the time of Christ himself.

While Jesus is reported to have stated that he came in fulfillment of the law, nonetheless he was understood by the church explicitly to have set aside the dietary portions of that very law. (Mark 7:19) The Apostles, believing themselves to be enlightened by the Holy Spirit, continued the process, and set aside many other requirements beyond those they understood Christ himself to have abrogated, most importantly the requirement of circumcision. They were not able to accomplish this without significant and continuing controversy, attested to in the Pauline epistles. The early church continued this process, variously adding to or taking away from the requirements laid down in scripture, even the most solemnly delivered portions of it: they forbade (I think wrongly) the observance of a Saturday sabbath, for example, even though it is one of the Ten Commandments. Closer to home in time and space (because of the problems it created for Henry VIII) the church forbade (and then for political reasons gave Henry a dispensation to allow) something that the Scripture had mandated: a brother taking his brother's childless widow as a wife (Deut 25:5). And we all know what a mess that led to.

Now this is not simply a question of interpretation concerning vague or problematical texts. Rather it is a question of the authority to decide in a given case that a relatively "clear" scriptural mandate or prohibition, which everyone more or less can agree means what it appears to say, is no longer applicable. Given the evidence outlined above that the church has felt itself competent to set aside certain laws laid out in Scripture, we are then left with the question, "By what criterion of judgment is this done." That the church judges the Scripture is manifest; so how does it do so?

First, it is important to address those who believe the church of today has somehow lost this authority, by the unhappy divisions that beset us, which prevent a unanimous decision on what may or may not be set aside. Nothing could be clearer than that the church recorded in the New Testament was not unanimous: the Pauline correspondence witnesses to the ongoing controversy about circumcision, just as John's letters to the churches of the dispersion reveal serious divisions between what he called "light and darkness." That some "orthodox" Christians continued to observe the rules of circumcision, or whatever customs so divided the Johannine community, even while other parts of the church moved on (and survived) cannot be doubted.

More importantly for us as Anglicans, unlike certain Christian fundamentalists, we are not forbidden this exercise of setting aside parts of the Scripture as no longer binding. We are explicitly free to do so, although there are limits, and the Articles of Religion are very clear in those limits to the church's scope of authority: Scripture is "sufficient," not all-inclusive; it is perfect in that for which it was intended, that is, salvation, but need not be held as the final word in all things. Article VI makes it clear that the church has no authority to require anything as a matter of faith or necessary for salvation if it cannot be read in or proven from Scripture, and proof requires much more than mere assertion or reassertion. This represents the minimalist character of the Anglican view of authority against what at the time were seen as the maximal claims of the Roman Catholics and the Puritans who wanted either to require extra-scriptural teachings as necessary on the one hand, or to limit the scope of the church to innovate in areas not addressed by scripture on the other. So much for the authority itself.

Article VII begins to lay out the primary criterion upon which Scriptural mandates may be set aside: it grants the church complete liberty from the Mosaic law concerning rites, ceremonies, and forms of government, while requiring obedience to "the Commandments which are called Moral." That these "moral commandments" are the Ten Commandments, we have Christ's own testimony and summary as evidence (Matt 19:17ff), as Saint Paul repeated (Rom 13:8-10), and as Richard Hooker would later note: "The positive laws which Moses gave, they were given for the greatest part with restraint to the land of Jewry... Which laws he plainly distinguished afterward from the laws of the Two Tables which were moral." (Laws, III.11.6)

So if a law lies outside the laws of the Two Tables, as most of the laws of the Old Covenant do, the church must apply its judgment to accept or reject them as applicable. That the Levitical prohibition on male homosexual acts is precisely such a law, as Rabbi Jacob Milgrom points out in detail in his magisterial study, restricted to Jewish males in the "land of Jewry," it is clear that it is precisely the sort of law the church has the power to reject or enforce as it sees fit. That the church of an earlier time enforced any law (as it did, for example, the laws against eating meat with blood, or lending money at interest) is no stay upon the church coming to a different mind at a later time, or in our own day.

Finally, the Anglican witness (Article XX) is that the church (by which is meant each particular national church, as described in the previous Article) has authority in controversies of the faith, but is not permitted to require or decree anything contrary to "God's Word written."

Now, some might well say, indeed have said, "Ah, but there's the rub! To approve of same-sex unions or to ordain a person who is engaged in one is to decree something contrary to God's word written." However, one must be very careful about claiming what is actually "written" in "God's word" and what is inferred from it by extension. The Ten Commandments alone have the highest claim actually to having been written by the hand of God, and we have already noted the particular honor in which they are held in the Anglican way of thinking.

This is not the place to expand on the varied arguments that have been made back and forth, but it is abundantly clear that as far as the written text of the Scripture itself is concerned, while there is apparent disapproval of same-sex sexuality in certain particular contexts⁽¹⁾ connected with rape, idolatry, prostitution or promiscuity, just as there is with mixed-sex sexuality, there is no explicit disapproval in the text itself concerning faithful, monogamous, loving and mutual relationships either hetero- or homosexual.

On the positive side, the greatest love story in all of Scripture is that of Jonathan for David. Surely it is ironic that those who seek to stretch a few verses and historical passages into a bulwark against same-sex relations, while at the same time perceiving a substantial heterosexual marriage theme (or at least "theme music") running throughout Scripture (and rather dissonantly at odds with the few specific things Saint Paul and Jesus Christ actually said about marriage) —” surely, I say, it is ironic that they are blind to the manifest and explicit love displayed in the extended narrative running from 1 Samuel 18 through 2 Samuel 1, still visible in spite of the efforts of redactors and translators to obscure it.⁽²⁾

When we come to ordination, Scripture says very little about requirements or impediments, and nowhere explicitly singles out persons in same-sex relationships as unsuitable. To argue, as some have, that this goes without saying is to admit that it is not said, or rather, not written. And what little the Scripture does record about the requirements for ordination (e.g., 1 Timothy 3) is given little regard these days.

Realizing that sexuality is a contentious matter, allow me to look at another passage of Scripture entirely. It concerns Saint Paul's mandate that women must cover their heads in prayer. (1 Cor 11:3-16) Now some may be saying, "This is a trivial matter!" I would respond, the very act of declaring it to be trivial proves that they believe themselves competent to make that judgment concerning the Scripture.

Saint Paul clearly did not think it to be trivial. First, I beseech you to go back and read the passage before you leap to judgment. It doesn't appear in our lectionaries (even the Daily Office skips over it), so many Episcopalians may never have read or heard it.

(soft background music)

Now that you've read it, note these points:

Paul spends more time on this matter in an extended and multi-tiered argument against women praying with their heads uncovered than he does in even his most extended comment on what many read as a condemnation of same-sex sexuality (Romans 1:26-28).

The text is relatively "clear" or "plain" as to Paul's intent that women should have their heads covered when praying or prophesying. There are some critical questions about what is meant concerning shaving the head (v 5-6), and "authority" and "angels" (v 10), but this does not render the rest of the text unclear.

Paul bases his argument on Scripture (citing Genesis in vv 7-9), reason and nature (v 14) and finally on tradition (v 16), with clear reference to the witness of the various local churches being in harmony on this teaching.

His argument is far from trivial, but concerns the order of the church in both a Christological and eschatological context (vv 3,10).

He stresses that this matter is tied up with the mystery of human relationships, mutuality, and interdependency (vv 11-12).

Clearly, few churches today take this passage as seriously as Saint Paul did; hence its omission from the lectionary. While it is very doubtful Paul would have regarded anything he wrote as "Scripture" (in the way he would have used the term in reference to Holy Writ) the church did make that judgment. So we are left with the task of teasing apart which sections of the Pauline material we wish to give that level of attention and honor. We have obviously already made that decision concerning much of the Old Testament, and not a small part of the New. So the question must be, "What are the criteria by which any national church may come to understand portions of the Scripture as no longer binding upon them."

I say "national church" and "upon them" because in our polity that is the highest court of judgment and also broadest limit of authority. The efforts of the Windsor Report to introduce a communion-wide decision-making body are, I believe, incapable of implementation given the wide range of opinion on many matters. It would be better to follow the traditional Anglican way of allowing each individual national church to proceed at its own pace, with toleration for each other and remaining in communion in the knowledge that the decisions of one province need not be adopted in all provinces. After all, if the early church had followed the path commended by Windsor, the handful of apostles ceasing to proclaim the Gospel because the majority of the religious leaders throughout the world condemned it (Acts 4:18-19, 5:28-29, 28:22), there would be no church. If the bishops of the tiny English national church at the time of the Reformation had heeded the demands of the papacy, we would have waited four hundred years for the vernacular liturgy and the common cup, to say nothing of the ordination of women —” for which we would still be waiting! The simple fact is that the church does not progress like a train, with all the cars moving as one, but like a caterpillar, as waves of movement stir through its body and carry it forward.

So what are the historic, traditional Anglican criteria for setting aside a Scriptural requirement? Here are a few observations, in no particular order, and for efficiency I'll use the algebraic X for "whatever it is we're talking about":

X is not part of the Ten Commandments, or does not lead to a violation of them

X does not entail a violation of the "summary of the law" or the Golden Rule, or Paul's "law of love" — all of which are held to summarize the moral law of the Old Covenant embodied in the Ten Commandments

X cannot be required as necessary, though it may be allowed

One part of the church may come to allow X while another, because of culture or conviction, chooses not to; but the level of decision making should be at least national

The restriction of X in Scripture is seen to stem from a situation limited by culture or time or place

Allowing X is seen as a fulfillment of a weightier matter of ethical or moral principle than that which forbidding it was understood to protect⁽³⁾

This would appear to be a bare outline of the limits of legal judgment and authority over the Scripture, but I think a sufficient one. It should also be clear from the forgoing that I believe the Episcopal Church is completely within its rights in acting as it has to date.

Tobias Stanislas Haller BSG is Vicar of Saint James Church Fordham, The Bronx

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Note 1. The weakness of using historical passages to make legal points was noted by Hooker. "I wish they did well observe, with whom nothing is more familiar than to plead in these causes, 'the law of God,' 'the word of the Lord;' who notwithstanding when they come to allege what word and what law they mean, their common ordinary practice is to quote by-speeches in some historical narration or other, and to urge them as if they were written in most precise exact form of law... When that which the word of God doth but deliver historically, we construe without any warrant as if it were legally meant, and so urge it further than we can prove that it was intended; do we not add to the laws of God, and make them in number seem more than they are?" Laws, III.V[^]

Note 2. The evidence for the nature of the love of Jonathan for David lies in the text itself, though in some places this has been obscured. Efforts were also made to eliminate or otherwise bowdlerize the text: the very significant initial passage describing Jonathan's first infatuation with David (1 Samuel 18) is omitted from the Septuagint. Similarly, Jerome, in his Vulgate Latin translation, edited the famous verse in 2 Samuel 1, "Your love for me was wonderful, surpassing the love of women," by adding the phrase "for their children."[^]

Note 3. Jesus laid out this hierarchy of moral law in his rebuke of those who tithed mint, dill and cumin, while neglecting "the weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy and faith" -- no doubt his own allusion to Micah 6:8 about what the Lord requires.[^]