The First Six Years

Last Friday, May 23, marked six years since I graduated from seminary. This week, I am back at the Virginia Theological Seminary with members of the graduating classes of 2002-2005. We are here to reflect upon our respective transitions into ordained ministry and to evaluate a program in which we were participants. The program (funded by the Lily Foundation) was designed to address issues common to clergy in their first few years of service to the church.

I always enjoy being back at VTS --I have many fond memories of this place. Virginia is beautiful in the late spring -- very lush and green. Yesterday was a great time of reconnecting with people, some of whom I haven't seen in several years -- as well as meeting some of the class of 2005 -- who came here the fall after my graduation.

I'm looking forward to this week's opportunities for worship, learning and conversation.

Scattergun Blogging

When I began this weblog a few months ago, I had no idea where I'd go with it...In fact, since follow-through is often not one of my strong points, I didn't know if I'd even get started!

What I've been attempting to do with these random entries is to share a few of the thoughts that trundle through my head during the course of a week as I encounter the "stuff of life" within the vocation of parish priest. Sometimes these entries have been an attempt to write something mildly provocative. At other times, I've shared from my reading and the effect that reading is having upon me. These entries have been "occasional" in that there has been no attempt on my part to carry some sort of theme forward from one entry to the next. For better or worse, an entry represents what I'm thinking about at the particular moment I sit down to write something.

I'm getting clearer that part of my purpose in this project is to broaden the conversation concerning all things "church". I'm not really interested in joining all of the blog-chair quarterbacks who are so quick to offer solutions to what they perceive is "wrong with the Episcopal Church" (regardless of their particular viewpoint). We certainly have things in the Episcopal Church to be concerned about...but in the middle of all of our difficulties, I still hear about people finding community, being fed with the Word and Sacraments, engaging in outreach and caring for each other in a way that is truly heartwarming.

While I certainly have political opinions, I've felt that my best contribution to the political conversations that need to happen in our world is to wrestle with how a Christian may frame some of those issues within a Gospel context. Lately, I've been contending with how Christians of different political persuasions could engage in significant conversations about things like -- the war in Iraq, the "war on terrorism", economic disparity and distributive ethics, racism and poverty...to name just a few. I continue to be astounded that we have so little to say about these things in church. Sometimes I wonder if we come to worship so that we can escape the world in which we live rather than to be equipped to more effectively engage it. I'm not sure "isolationist" and "Christian" are compatible terms.

If we can't talk to each other, how can we possibly model honest converation to others? I'm amazed that people who serve such a talkative God can be so timid in speaking directly to one another about matters that are of far greater consequence than the date of the next potluck dinner.

Trinity Church in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin is the congregational setting in which I exercise the priesthood conveyed upon me by the church's ordination, but this blog isn't for the purpose of positing any sort of agenda for this particular parish. Discerning this parish's mission is a work for the whole people of God...not just for the person who happens to wear an eight dollar piece of plastic as a collar.

The only goals I've had for this exercise have been to:

1. keep my mind as sharp as possible, and
2. to increase my proficiency at writing a decent paragraph.

Only time will tell if I will accomplish either of them.

Two More Books

Well...this has been my week for reading books that I couldn't put down!

Last Friday, I began reading Take This Bread: The Spiritual Memoir of a Twenty-First Century Christian by Sara Miles. That book lasted until Tuesday.

Wednesday I began, Sundays in America: A Yearlong Road Trip in Search of Christian Faith by Suzanne Strempek Shea, which carried me through until just a few minutes ago.

These writers begin from different places -- Miles, raised in an a-religious household, Shea in a devoutly Roman Catholic one. Miles begins her faith journey in a moment of Eucharistic hospitality at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco ( http://saramiles.net/ ).

Shea' exploration of Protestantism begins after witnessing Pope John Paul II's funeral and struggling with the abuse scandals that have rocked American Catholicism. ( http://suzannestrempekshea.com/sss/ )

Miles writes about the food pantry she begins at St. Gregory's and the way in which all of the assorted characters drawn to that ministry become "church"...and the challenges that being placed in proximity to real people dealing with real problems places upon anyone who would be idealistic about "ministry".

Shea writes about the ways in which "church" happens from the standpoint of a perpetual visitor. Through her eyes, the reader catches a glimpse of all that church is and isn't...and in her seeking, the reader is invited to examine her/his own assumptions about what constitutes "church".

Both are drawn toward the active side of faith -- how is faith lived out in the real world? Both are skeptical of faith that too easily judges others. Both are convinced that invitation and inclusion are greater values than doctrinal certainty and exclusivity. Both are much more "this-worldly" than "other-worldly" in their embrace of the Christian message.

In these two books, I was challenged to keep my eyes on the ways in which God is constantly at work...constantly drawing us into the Kingdom that is for everyone. These two authors poignantly reminded me of the wonder of the local church -- a community that is embodied in real time in real places by real (and sometimes difficult) people...a community in which (hopefully) all are fed and no one is left behind.

Three-Quarters Time Church?

Here goes. I'll admit from the outset that what follows is unrealistic at best, highly idealistic at least, and possibly judgmental at worst.

I've been an Episcopalian since 1991. I still don't understand the summer shutdown that we seem to take such joy in. Memorial Day to Labor Day (more or less 13 weeks), we typically suspend Sunday School, minimize meetings, consolidate liturgical schedules and streamline the remaining liturgies as much as possible. Of course, this calendar adjustment is reminiscent of an agrarian society when all hands were needed in the fields for the growing season. People didn't rest during the summer -- they worked as hard as they could for as long as they could -- their winter survival depended on it. Now, we think summer's just time to rest from church.

We send the unmistakable message that we are going into stasis for three months. We all but say out loud, "Nothing much is going to happen, so you won't miss much if you spend your Sundays taking in the local Starbucks or golf couse or reading the New York Times in the park."

The church nods off programatically for June, July and August. Wake us up when school starts.

I'm all for sabbath rest. I'm all for the re-creation afforded by recreation. I understand that with children out of school (and with most of us not working in the fields) summer is the time for travel (or at least a change of scenery on the weekends). And yet...

I wonder if we can get along without all the activity in church for three months of the year...why do we need to exhaust ourselves the other nine?

Maybe the issue isn't that we slow down too much in the summer...maybe we try to accomplish too much the other 39 weeks of the year. What do you think?

Book Study Follow-Up

I have begun reading Will Willimon's book, Who Will Be Saved?, that I mentioned on a post back in April. The link to order the book is:

http://www.amazon.com/Who-Will-Saved-William-Willimon/dp/0687651190/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1208256626&sr=1-2

I have read about half of the text, and have found it to be a helpful review of key themes of "soteriology" (the doctrine of salvation). Willimon relies heavily on his Wesleyan roots and draws liberally from the work of Reformed theologian, Karl Barth -- with the trademark Willimon stories and one-liners thrown in for good measure.

I'll look forward to discussing the book via blog with anyone who wishes.

Video Evangelism...Episco-Style

A few months ago, a friend of mine (hat tip to Dr. KNS) happened across a few video treasures on You Tube. The Reverend Matthew Moretz, a priest in the Diocese of New York has produced, edited and posted his work on You Tube. These videos cover a wide range of subjects with a sincerity, curiosity and sense of humor that is classic in its understated Anglican fashion. He began producing these videos as a means of outreach to assist him in a "church replant"...

Unfortunately, the replant did not take root and Fr. Matthew has since moved on to become the Curate at Christ Episcopal Church in Rye, NY. But he has (thankfully) continued to produce these 3 minute vignettes and has now gained a bit of a following out here in cyberland.

I spoke with him by phone yesterday to get an idea about how he got started, the process he uses to produce his videos (he does it all himself!) and what this effort had meant for him in his ministry. Fr. Matthew has been ordained for two years after graduating from the General Theological Seminary in New York. He's a fellow Southerner (Diocese of Georgia)...and it took us all of about 5 minutes to discover a person that we know in common -- both the joy and the scariness of the Episcopal Church as a denomination!

Anyway, while I continue to think about whether or not I'm ready to make the leap into the world of video, I invite anyone who happens to come by this blog to check out Fr. Matthew's work at http://www.ccrye.org .

You may be particularly interested in his "sacraments series"...but be sure to catch the one in which he plays the Mario Brothers theme song on a carillon!

Alien Priest

I read Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony for the first time eight years ago. To say "it changed my life" would be cliche. What the book did do was infect me with a particular viewpoint of how "church" can be embodied -- a way that has its roots in the New Testament; a way that reminds us of the call of the church in the aftermath of Christendom and in the context of American Empire.

I think the reason so much of this book resonated for me has to do with the authors' critique of the liberal mainline project. The authors contend that before any other activity, the church is called to be the church -- a community of people formed and reformed by constant engagement with the story of God's people as encountered in the Bible. In the absence of a robust conversation with the Scriptures that contain our story as Christians, the church readily drifts toward becoming a pseudo-social services agency with a dash of easily digestible religious snack food on the side.

Critics of this book have labeled the authors as "sectarian". These critics charge that the church cannot isolate itself from ongoing conversation with the culture at large. I believe such a critique misses the point, which is until the church learns how to be the church, it will always allow the larger culture to frame the conversation with the categories of the culture's choosing. Indeed, unless Christians learn the language of our faith (which we learn in church) we won't even know that we're responding to culturally conditioned categories in the first place.

One place where the church gets particularly confused, the authors argue, is in assuming that by providing "services and fellowship" and promoting "good feelings" that it is somehow living out its mission. While stating that there is nothing wrong with any of those things, the authors argue that when services, fellowship and good feelings become ends in themselves the natural result is "sentimentality", which the authors label as "the most detrimental corruption of the church today" (page 120). They go on to say, "Sentimentality, after all, is but the way our unbelief is lived out. Sentimentality, that attitude of being always ready to understand but not to judge, corrupts us and the ministry...Without God, without the One whose death on the cross challenges all our 'good feelings,' who stands beyond and over against our human anxieties, all we have left is sentiment, the saccharine residue of theism in demise." (pp. 120-121)

Amen.

Tomorrow is the Day of Pentecost.

The nave of Trinity Church is presently adorned with all manner of glorious red. The red will remind us of the vision of fiery tongues that appeared to rest atop the heads of Jesus' followers at the end of a ten day prayer meeting in an upper room that overlooked the crowded city streets of Jerusalem. Those streets were teeming with pilgrims from all over the known world, who were in town for a religious festival.

I wonder if we will see any fiery apparitions.

At the principle service, the story of the first Pentecost from the book of Acts (chapter 2, verses 1-21) will be read in different languages simultaneously. The resulting confusion will call to mind the way in which those religious pilgrims heard the Good News in their native tongues -- spoken fluently by mostly illiterate country bumpkins from up around Galilee.

I wonder if we will hear any Good News that enlivens us with a passion for God.

After witnessing the destructive power of wind these past few weeks -- in Arkansas, Missouri, Virginia, and in Myanmar -- does the notion of the Spirit as the "Wind of God" unsettle us even a bit?

I wonder if we will leave worship tomorrow with our souls singed by holy fire?
Or shattered by holy wind?
Does the Spirit have a Ghost of a chance?

Formation -- Final (for now)

Perhaps I've jumped too far ahead with these comments on "formation"...

Maybe now is the time for a step back. Maybe I've assumed that the word "formation" meant something to those who have heard me use it. Maybe I've assumed the definition people ascribed to the word was similar to my own. Maybe those were faulty assumptions.

For now, here's my take on the word. "Formation" in a congregational context is what happens when Christians engage the content of the faith within the context of a worshipping community.

To do so means that we come to learn something of what it means to be a follower of Jesus -- not just in theory but in ways that are demonstrable in the various arenas of our lives.

Formation is not simply a "head trip" -- the accumulation of bits of trivia or factoids to impress ourselves and one another with all that we have learned. Neither is it solely about right action -- doing/not doing things that we believe "good Christians" should do/not do (which sometimes resembles padding our spiritual resumes). I believe that, for Anglicans, what it means to be a Christian is more "caught than taught".

I'm wondering if formation commences with the cultivation of an attitude of patient persistence -- of keeping at this Christian life as a way of deepening our awareness of the wholeness (salvation) God wills for all creation. I wonder if our quest for some sort of measurable result from alleged formation activities is actually counterproductive to the cultivation of patient persistence.

In an essay entitled Performing the Faith, Stanley Hauerwas notes that "Patient listening and attentiveness are skills that are exercised, honed, and refined in Christian community. Moreover; within the life of the church this type of respectful, attentive listening is aquired primarily in liturgy...Patience is learning what it means to serve, to attend time. For knowing how to wait means having a sense of time, appreciating what it means to live with something over time." (Performing the Faith, page 100)

In the Rite I Eucharistic Prayer, after the consecration of the elements, the celebrant prays on behalf of the congregation, "And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee..." (cf. Romans 12-12). Perhaps this is the place where formation really begins -- the awareness that we are God's already and that God is at work within us individually and through the community of faith corporately to form us more fully into the Body of Christ.

Formation -- Part 4

Where did we get the notion that being a Christian was about having the answers to all of the mysteries of life? When did the ability to parrot an "answer" become more important than wrestling with the questions? Why do we choose to ignore the questions that make us uncomfortable -- the ones that won't readily avail themselves to a succint solution? How can we recover intellectual curiosity in the local congregation?

Who is God? What does it mean to say that God is Trinity? Who is Jesus? How is Jesus the Son of God? What is the uniqueness of Jesus? What difference does it make? What does it mean to be human? What is sin? Bad behavior(s)? Unruly force?

What is the Church? How does the Church proclaim the Gospel of Jesus? What difference does the Gospel make in the world? In the lives of followers of Jesus? What is salvation? How is salvation effected? By whom? For whom? What is the mission of the Church? How does that mission intersect with God's mission? What about human suffering? What about evil? What about death? Where is hope?

Conversation, anyone?

Formation -- Part 3

Attending to the life of the mind is a significant part of the Anglican ethos. Anselm, an Archbishop of Canterbury during the 12th century gifted us with a definition of theology as, "faith seeking understanding". Four centuries later, Richard Hooker articulated the contribution of Spirit-inspired reason as an indispensible aspect of how Christians "know what they know". Indeed, the commitment to the ongoing engagement of the mind with the Scriptures and the Tradition of the Church has been the hallmark of what it means to be an Anglican .

Unfortunately, the open-minded stance of Anglicans has often been misconstrued as an inability to arrive at definitive, once-for-all theological decisions. Of late, this open-mindedness has been caricatured among everyday Episcopalians with phrases such as "the good news about being an Episcopalian is that you can believe whatever you want." I would argue that such statements do little to commend our rich theological heritage to people who are new to the Episcopal Church. In fact, such statements may actually discourage people from engaging the theological task with the sort of vigor that is necessary if the Church is to give a vibrant witness to "the hope that is within us".

I remember when I became an Episcopalian, someone told me that I didn't have "to park my mind at the door". I worry that it's too easy to park our minds on the pews -- to allow them to coast in neutral as the liturgy carries us along comfortably to the Dismissal.

My ongoing concern is that we Episcopalians will too quickly sell our birthright of intellectual latitude for the pottage of intellectual laziness.