A Note on the Cubs

I first started following the Chicago Cubs in 1962, the summer leading up to my eleventh birthday. They lost a lot of games that year--many more than they won--and you could walk into Wrigley Field at game time on any day and pick up general admission grandstand seats for $1.50. On weekdays, so many seats remained empty that hookey-playing kids could bang the seat next to them as they all chanted in unison, "We want a hit! We want a hit!" They finished eighth in a newly-expanded ten team National League.

The following year, 1963, they were much improved, and everybody was excited. The Cubs went 82-80--an actual winning record--and finished fifth, in what was known then as "the first division." In a pre-playoff era, with only two teams going to post-season play, that was considered a respectable accomplishment. And it was a better year than the Cubs have had during the substantial majority of the 47 seasons that I have been a fan.

There was a brief flirtation with greatness in 1969, of course. When I left for college at the beginning of September they held an eight game lead in what by then was the Eastern Division of the National League. But then they imploded, and the Mets (the Mets!) went to the World Series. Cubs fans of a certain age have never quite gotten over the experience. (We will rejoice indeed when Shea Stadium is razed after this year.)

The next happy time was 1984, when the Cubs won 96 games and took the division. Yet, after winning the first two games in a best-of-five playoff with San Diego, they couldn't win the third. In 1989, as division winners once again, they didn't even get that close. The 1998 season ended with excitement, but they got swept in the first round of playoffs. Then there was 2003, still too fresh a wound for me to write about. Last year they won their division again, but proved no match to the Diamondbacks in the playoffs.

So now we're in the centenniel year of the Cubs' last victorious World Series appearance. I've avoided writing very much because most Cubs fans are highly superstitious about them and we take the notion of "jinx" very seriously. So I'll just say this: As I write, the Cubs are 85-50. There are 27 games left in the season. Do the math. They could lose every game left in the season--more than a whole month's worth--and still finish eight games over .500. Eight games! Worst case scenario.

This year, of course, that would not win them a division championship, or even a wild card slot on the playoffs (though in some years and in some divisions, such a record would result in Ocotber baseball). I fully want and expect them to have the division championship locked up before they arrive in Milwaukee for the final series of the season. Then it will be a matter of luck--who gets the breaks in playoff competition. But it still seems worth noting that, even in the impossible event that they "lose out" the rest of the season, they would still finish with a better record than has been their wont for the last half century.

A Word in Time

My "other blog"--a group effort in which I am privileged to be one of several contributors--has published an important open letter to the Anglican Communion.

We suggest this is such a crucial issue that Dr. Williams convene a meeting, preferably in person, by September 30th, to work through an agreement on the assurances of the moratoria as well as the “safe haven” for those in the American and Canadian churches who feel the need for protection. We respectfully submit that this meeting be chaired by the Archbishop of Canterbury and include the bishops of Ft. Worth, Pittsburgh, Quincy, the primate of Uganda, the primate of the Southern Cone, the presiding bishop of The Episcopal Church, the primate of the Anglican Church of Canada, the chair of the Windsor Continuation Group, and perhaps two bishops agreed to by all other parties. This meeting should be held at a neutral site without attorneys present. Such a meeting would acknowledge the urgency of the matters under consideration and give an opportunity to the parties to work through the implementation of the moratoria requested.

That may be the "meatiest" paragraph, but there rest is well worth reading. See the whole thing here.

Closing the Barn Door…

... after the horses have long since escaped.

The fun thing about the Anglicanland soap opera is that it's an action-packed adventure, not a tightly-drawn drama that could play on public television. There is a certain rhythm to the plot development, but just when you think things are quieting down in one place, the action picks up someplace else.

My former diocese of San Joaquin is gearing up for another turn on center stage. Word from the California Supreme Court is that oral arguments will be heard some six weeks from now in the cases of the parishes that left the dioceses of Los Angeles and San Diego two or three years ago. San Joaquin is not a party to this litigation, but the outcome will certainly influence the lawsuits that have been lodged against Bishop Schofield and, through him, the "Anglican" Diocese of San Joaquin. At the 2006 diocesan convention, when the first vote was taken on the constitutional amendment that, a year later, effectively separated the diocese from the Episcopal Church, clergy and lay leaders from these parishes were on the sidelines, making clear their desire to come under Bishop Schofield's oversight in a sort of "greater" Diocese of San Joaquin. Whether they still have that desire I don't know. But there are certainly close links between San Joaquin and the defendants in the cases that will be heard by the California Supreme Court in October.

Meanwhile, Bishop Jerry Lamb, the appointed ordinary of the 815 puppet "Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin," the plaintiff in the legal case against Bishop Schofield, has stated just today his latest plans for those clergy who failed to respond to his early July "choose this day whom ye will serve" missive (which includes "most" of those who received it, by his own reckoning). He's giving them one more chance, and extending the deadline to September 5, two weeks from now. What then? "We will immediately begin canonical actions on September 6, 2008 charging Abandonment of the Communion and Failure to Follow a Pastoral Direction of the bishop for those who do not respond. When the September 5 deadline passes, inhibitions will be imposed." This is a change in tune from a recent interview the bishop gave with Steve Waring of The Living Church, in which he adopted a more tentative tone.

But why now? And is Bishop Lamb possibly hoisting himself on his own petard here? Word has it that he is planning a "diocesan convention," to be held in Hanford in October—conveniently the same weekend that the Southern Conites are planning theirs in Fresno (45 miles away). We're back to the "you can't have it both ways" situation that I outlined here. If Bishop Lamb wants to maintain the fiction that his "diocese" is indeed the rightful manifestation of the entity that existed as the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin prior to December 8 of last year, then every member of the clergy whom he does not depose is presently "in good standing," and entitled to seat, voice, and vote at any convention of the diocese. The total of those so eligible is in the neighborhood of 110. According to the constitution of the diocese (as it read prior to December 8), a quorum of clergy for the transaction of business would be 37, give or take. He doesn't have that many, but he could be within striking distance if he can cull the total in order to reduce the number needed for a quorum. So there's some incentive to "downsize."

Of course, there is also a quorum requirement in the lay order. In San Joaquin, this requires the registered presence of at least one elected delegate from one-third of the congregations that are in union with the diocese. Since the story that they're sticking to is that dioceses can't leave TEC, and therefore ADSJ hasn't, then that means none of the parishes have either. (See the cyber-version of the Episcopal Church Annual—aka the Red Book. The page for the Diocese of San Joaquin lists nearly all the congregations that were part of the pre-12/8/07 entity, including a direct link to the website of my former parish, which, when one clicks on it, reveals a congregation that is very much gone from the Episcopal Church! The irony is mind-boggling.) So there would need to be at least one delegate from some 15 congregations in order to have a valid convention. This is a harder nut to crack, since a bishop cannot just "depose" a congregation. It takes an act of convention. But if there's no quorum, there's no convention. To top it all off, there is some question whether all the congregations Bishop Lamb claims are part of his diocese have even been informed officially of the upcoming convention, such notice being required by diocesan canons. And this is to say nothing of the congregations (four, as I count them) that were "planted" by the EDSJ after the split; this only raises the threshold for a canonical quorum. Want some Dramamine?

There is an alternative, of course. They could shrug and say, "OK, they're gone. What we have left is what we have left" (speaking of both clergy and congregations). Let's forget the past and move on and make something new for TEC in the Central Valley. That appears to be what they did at the purported special diocesan convention last March, where there was clearly no quorum in either order, yet they proceeded to elect an interim bishop, ignore the duly-elected Standing Committee, one of whose members was present (a priest who never resigned his elected office and who had signaled two months earlier his intention not to follow Bishop Schofield to Argentina), elect a new Diocesan Council and new General Convention Deputies, all at the behest of a Presiding Bishop who was acting in violation of canon law by even calling the convention.

But having made that bed (and having enjoyed the perks of doing so), they now eschew lying in it. Could the reason be any more obvious? Just follow the lawsuits. It is vital to Bishop Lamb's case against Bishop Schofield that the fiction be maintained that he and the entity he leads are the legitimate successors and rightful owners of the physical and financial assets of the Diocese of San Joaquin and the congregations associated with it. This is what they hope to win in court. If they acknowledge the "facts on the ground" as they are, they have no hope of winning their case. But trying to prop up the chimera is costly as well, because they have to somehow account for the human and material assets they claim are theirs as they transact the ordinary business of being a diocese, such ordinary business including the satisfaction of requirements for quorums.

Bishop Lamb, Mr Rock is holding on line one and Mr Hard Place is in your waiting room.

Another Trace of the Alpha Issue

I don't expect to ever get a clear shot at it. But the hunt is instructive, so I'll keep on rooting around for clues. The most recent sighting may be found in the (1979 BCP) collect for Proper 15 (this past Sunday and the weekdays that follow):

Almighty God, you have given your only Son to be for us a sacrifice for sin, and also an example of godly life: Give us grace to receive thankfully the fruits of his redeeming work, and to follow daily in the blessed steps of his most holy life; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Here's the operative generalization: Christians (including Anglicans) who self-identify as "orthodox" and who may be known by their opponents by a number of descriptors including "conservative" and "fundamentalist" will tend to emphasize the phrases "sacrifice for sin" and "receive thankfully the fruits of his redeeming work." Christians (including Anglicans) who self-identify as "progressive" and who may be known by their opponents as "liberal" or "revisionist" will tend to emphasize the phrases "example of godly life" and "follow daily in the blessed steps of his most holy life."

Of course, no generalization is universally applicable. I am fully aware that there are plenty of "progressives" who are abundantly grateful for the fruits of our Lord's redeeming work, and it goes without saying that there is no shortage of "orthodox" who are consumed by imitating the example of his most holy life. But I'm wondering how effectively the opposing sides in the sexuality wars can be sorted according to the vocabulary they would use to talk about who Jesus is and what Jesus means. Liberals will more often be concerned with the teaching and ministry of Jesus, and interpret his death and resurrection in that context. Conservatives will more often be concerned with the death and resurrection and Jesus and interpret his teaching and ministry in that context.

I noticed the same dynamic some years ago when Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ was released. Those for whom Jesus is primarily a "sacrifice for sin" who is engaged in "redeeming work" almost universally found the film profoundly moving, a positive witness for the gospel. Those for whom Jesus is primarily "an example of godly life" and understand his importance primarily as a teacher and example nearly all found it revolting and worthy of scorn.

The conventional move for an irenic guy such as myself at this point is to say something like, "It's not either/or, it's both/and." That always sounds wise and moderate. But in the matter of Christology, it simply won't do. Without the "redeeming work" of Jesus—that is, without everything implied in the expression Paschal Mystery—his "most holy life" is of no effective significance to anybody except … Jesus. The Paschal Mystery has to be the lens through which the teaching and ministry of Jesus is "read." It doesn't work the other way around.

Pastoral Care On-the-Fly

I first met Bill (not his real name) last November. He called me out of the blue early one afternoon from a funeral home. His wife had just died—rather suddenly—the previous night, and he wanted me to come by for "last rites." He said he was once an active Episcopalian in another part of the diocese, but has never had a connection with my parish. I had plenty on my plate that day, but, setting aside the fact that it was a little late for "Last Rites," this is not the kind of request a priest can decline without an overriding reason. So I went.

A few weeks later, Bill came by the church one day, just needing to talk. So I sat with him in the nave, offering a sympathetic listening ear and an occasional word of affirmation or redirection. He and his wife had been married for 59 years, so he had some understandably unresolved grief, as well as cognate "issues"—Why did God take her? Is He trying to punish me for something? Is there something I could have done to prevent her death? Is there something He wants me to do now with my life?

In a gentle way, I urged him to reconnect with the community of the church. He needed the sacraments, I told him. He needed the Word of God in his ears. He needed the relationships of mutual caring and accountability that are part of ecclesial life. His explanation for not having involved himself with St Anne's over the last 20 years that he's lived in this town was the Episcopal Church's moral amnesia—"What I was always taught was a sin they now say is right!" I couldn't argue with him on the facts, but I could—and did—tell him that those facts don't constitute a reason to ex-communicate himself.

This conversation repeated itself several times over the winter and spring, like the morning sequence of events in the movie Groundhog Day. I don't claim the right to tell the man how to grieve, but I've learned enough about bereavement to recognize when somebody is stuck in their process. He was on a hamster wheel—lots of activity, but going nowhere.

So late this afternoon he stops by yet again for another session on the wheel (lately under the cover of wanting to discuss to whom he might give his wife's clothing and shoes). Only today is a feast day, so we have a Mass scheduled at 5:30. When he arrives, one of our staff members directs him upstairs to the chapel. He walks in during Evening Prayer, kind of oblivious to what's going on, but we make allowances and welcome him in and find him the page, etc. etc. But, as always, Bill is a bit of a motormouth, so while I'm throwing on vestments in the hallway, he's bending the ear of two staff members, the only others in tonight's congregation. Eventually I clear my throat loudly. We may not ever get started otherwise.

During my (very informal) homily I ask him a question, whereupon he informs me that he really can't hear a word I'm saying because his hearing aid is turned down. Then, during the Peace, he breaks back into his stump speech (see above beginning, "Why did God…?"). It's obviously been a loooooong time since the dude's been in church. I go ahead and set up the altar while he talks and the three of us listen. In my head, I'm fishing around for a strategy to redirect his attention long enough for us to finish the liturgy.

Then a line from my stock funeral-sermon-when-I-don't-know-the-deceased-very-well-but-we're-celebrating-the-Eucharist-anyway dawns on me. "Bill, I've got an idea! How would you like to have supper with your wife?"

"Huh?"

"How would you like to have supper with your wife? We can do it right here, right now."

I have his attention. He nods in affirmation.

"She is here with us. Or, more precisely, we are joining her, for these few minutes, where she is. We're going to eat from the same table that she's eating from."

Without pausing long enough to let him form and express another thought, I plow ahead. "The Lord be with you." And we proceed to lift up our hearts. When we get to the part of the Eucharistic Prayer (B, if you know the American BCP) where the celebrant has the option of "populating" it with the names of actual people—usually the BVM and the patron saint of the parish and whatever saint is being commemorated on the day—without missing a beat, I turn to Bill and ask him, "What's your wife's name?"

"Huh?"

"What's your wife's name."

"Eloise." (Again, name changed to protect identity.)

So I add, after "the ever-blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God; Anne, her mother … Eloise … and all the saints…". At the mention of his wife's name in such august company, Bill's face lights up like a Nevada town on the Utah border at night. As I place the Blessed Sacrament on his tongue, I point to the paten and tell him, "Eloise already had hers."

Will what we did for Bill tonight get him off the hamster wheel? I don't know. I'm not overly-invested in that outcome. Was it a liminal--"thin"--moment for me and the two others who ministered to him? Certainly so. It was at the same time the one of the most unsettlingly bizarre and one of the the most luminously mystical celebrations of the Eucharist I have ever attended.

In Search of the Transcendent Feminine

As an Anglican who was raised and formed in a free-church evangelical milieu and who regularly casts an eye Romeward thinking, "What if …?", today's feast ("St Mary the Virgin" in Episcopalian parlance, "the Assumption" for Latin Rite Catholics, "the Dormition of the Theotokos" for the Orthodox) is a significant marker in the ecclesial ferment in which I live and move and have my being.

During my recently-concluded vacation, I read (and very much enjoyed) Ken Follett's World Without End, a novel set in fourteenth century England and in which the Black Plague is one of the main characters. The narrative suggests that the terror associated with the Plague helped spur an increase in devotion to the Blessed Virgin. As a sympathetic feminine presence, many perceived her as more accessible than God, who was too busy being God (including sending the Plague to punish miserable sinners) to be a likely source of succor. Sometimes we just need a Mom.

Of course, a couple of hundred years later, the Reformers responded strongly to what they perceived as excessive devotion to Our Lady, believing it to compromise the unique mediatorial office of her Divine Son. Ever since, she has been a lightning rod in the various controversies between the Catholic and Reformed traditions in western Christianity. My sense is that both sides have indulged in hyper-reactivity to one another. Protestants are generally downright Mary-phobic, forgetting her own words in scripture, "All generations will call me blessed." And while I don't impute this to official Roman Catholic teaching, the Marian piety of many Catholics does seem a little "over the top," giving rise to jokes like the one about Jesus walking into St Patrick's Cathedral and trying to get the attention of a woman kneeling in prayer. Her response? "Don't bother me. Can't you see I'm talking to your mother?"

We are not, thankfully, suffering today anything like the Black Death of the fourteenth century (estimated to have wiped out perhaps half the population of Europe). But we apparently still need a Mom. As long ago as when I took the General Ordination Exams (1989), I knew to be careful not to use masculine pronouns for God, and to be parsimonious in my use of "Father" and "Lord," lest I arouse the ire of those who would be evaluating my work. More recent seminarians inform me that committing such offenses in academic writing these days yields an automatic 'F.' Experimental liturgies, Anglican and otherwise, are not at all shy about giving 'Mother' at least equal time with 'Father' in referring to God, and the routine use of the feminine pronoun in speaking of the Holy Spirit is increasingly widespread.

I'm not going to do any heresy-jousting in this post, beyond saying that there are all kinds of theological reasons why these things really creep me out. Curiously, the impetus for such licentiousness in theological language is much lower among our Roman Catholic friends. Yeah … I know … not entirely absent. But much lower. Of course, one can attribute that to a very hierarchical polity with a small group of single old men at the top of the pyramid. But I think that's a simplistic explanation. I think the main reason Roman Catholics and Orthodox don't feel the need (as much) to feminize God is that they already have a Mom, and they know who she is, and they're comfortable bending her sympathetic ear.

As an Anglo-Catholic (and loyal son of Nashotah House), I like to think I'm on friendly terms with the Mother of God. I pray the Angelus and the Regina Coeli. I pray the Rosary (the real Rosary, with the Joyful, Sorrowful, Glorious, and now Luminous Mysteries—not an "Anglican" surrogate). Many other Anglicans do as well. This is well and good. But I would suggest, with apologies to Emeril, that we need to "kick it up a notch." For many Anglicans who have any Marian piety (and I'm looking in a mirror here), it is yet too conceptual, too cerebral. We need to make it more a matter of the heart. It's a good thing to honor and revere the Theotokos. It's a still better thing to love her. She is, after all, our Mom.

Setting the Record Straight (before it’s crooked)

My vacation ends tonight, so I may as well wade back into the "conversation."

A week ago yesterday, on August 5^th, a deadline passed—a deadline that, so far as I can tell, escaped the notice of the Anglican blogsphere.

On July 10^th, the Right Revd Jerry Lamb, putative bishop of the putative "Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin", wrote this letter to the clergy of the diocese as it was constituted prior to December 8, 2007. It gave August 5^th as the deadline for receiving responses from said clergy as to their intentions with respect to their future relationship to the Episcopal Church. Apparently it was not a precision operation. I know of at least two female deacons who were addressed as "Dear Father N." I also know of two presbyters who never received the letter.

In any case, I am given to understand that the Standing Committee of the (rogue and illicit) Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin is set to meet this Friday. One might reasonably presume that their agenda includes taking notice of responses received and not received by last week's deadline. One might further presume that a goodly number of letters will be in the mail shortly informing their recipients that they have been deposed from the ordained ministry as the Episcopal Church understands ordained ministry.

What I gather from my sources in the San Joaquin Valley is that the July 10^th letter—a bit of a slipshod effort by any account—is the only attempt that Bishop Lamb has made to contact the majority of the clergy in what he considers to be the continuing Diocese of San Joaquin—that is, the one spun off as a Missionary District from the Diocese of California in 1911 and received into union with General Convention as a diocese in 1960. Ah, yes, these would be the same clergy who failed to appear at what Bishop Lamb and others believe was a convention of the diocese held last March in Lodi, thus creating a prima facie case that a quorum of canonically-resident clergy in good standing of the diocese was not present, and thus rendering the acts of said convention—including the election of Bishop Lamb and the Standing Committee that meets this Friday—of no account according the Constitution and Canons of the Episcopal Church, which Bishop Lamb, as he so helpfully points out in his letter, is bound to uphold.

But we've been over all this before. It's old news. Forgive my self-indulgent ways.

Like I said … the July 10th letter is it. No emails. No phone calls. No drop-in visits (that is, except to change the locks at St Andrew's, Taft). So, when the depositions are announced, along with assurances that "every effort" (or some such) was made to contact these clergy and reconcile them to the Episcopal Church (a handful of which, I suspect, may actually have been receptive to that concept), we'll know what "every effort" (or some such) actually amounts to: A single mass-mailed form letter whose sender didn't know the recipients as anything other than abstract names on a list.

Why am I exercised about this? That's probably a complex list a reasons that would require years of Jungian analysis to ferret out. But here's one good one that just pops right up: I'm an Episcopalian, and the welfare of my church deserves a much higher quality of pastoral care, administrative oversight, and canonical fidelity than is being exercised in the central third of California.

Lambeth Post-Mortem

In his 1999 book Plato, Not Prozac!, Lou Marinoff contends that a substantial proportion of human mental and emotional suffering stems not from the actual events of our lives, but from our expectations about the actual events of our lives. The ants at the picnic didn't ruin our afternoon; our expectation that the picnic grounds would be free of ants ruined our afternoon.

The Lambeth Conference of Anglican bishops has now concluded after three weeks, and if the blogsphere is any indication, there is a palpable degree of human mental and emotional suffering floating in its wake. It's certainly not suffering on the order of that experienced by those who are punched by a tsunami or a hurricane, but it's nonetheless important to those who are feeling it at the moment. Perhaps Marinoff's book should have been required reading for anyone with a horse in this race.

A couple of weeks ago, I took inventory of my own expectations, hopes, and wishes for this Lambeth Conference. This seems an appropriate time to audit that list and reflect on its relationship to subsequent developments:

What do I expect? I expect, at the very least, that the Archbishop's Indaba groups will indeed have the desired and intended effect of strengthening the bonds of affection and respect among bishops of the Communion. This would be a good thing. Not a sufficiently good thing, one might argue, given the imperiled state of Anglicanland, but, nontheless, in itself a good thing. It will do no harm, and may plant the sort of seeds that can yield unexpectedly fruitful harvests at time and under circumstances that we cannot presently imagine.

I think it's safe to say that my expectations were pretty much met. By all accounts, from all perspectives, lots of new personal relationships were created and lots of existing ones were strengthened. Most of this relationship building took place in the context of shared availability—even vulnerability, at times—to the text of sacred scripture. Surely the Holy Spirit would not be absent from those encounters and exchanges. The seed scattered by the Word of God will never, we are told, return to Him empty. For that we should all be, I think, profoundly grateful.

In this vein, it is also worth recalling the candid but non-rancorous remarks of the Primate of Sudan (speaking for himself and his episcopal colleagues), and how the American bishops whose dioceses have had close ties with that beleaguered African nation and church did not have a fit. Not a public fit, at any rate. The Sudanese bit one of the hands that feed them, and the hand didn't slap back. That may not fix anything that needs fixing, but it is in itself a good thing.

As to my hopes, this is what I wrote two weeks ago:

What do I hope for? … I believe that there is reason for hope that the bishops will give the Anglican Covenant development process a steroid shot, and that the process will continue with renewed energy. … I have hope that the bishops assembled at Lambeth 2008 will turn up the flame under the Covenant process.

This is a tougher call to make. It wasn't exactly a steroid shot—more like a caffeinated cola—and if the flame was turned up, it wasn't by much. But I'm going to claim victory nonetheless, because I think we will look back on this Lambeth Conference and see it as a tipping point. Progress toward an Anglican Covenant was not dramatic, but I think there is solid reason to believe that it is now inexorable—there will be a covenant. The report of the Windsor Continuation Group says as much, the final Reflections document says as much (calling it a "strong consensus") and the repeated remarks of the Archbishop of Canterbury say as much. Even some American bishops are beginning to "get it." They still don't like it, but they are beginning to get it.

At a more profound level, as a result of the Covenant and the process leading up to and following its implementation (which will no doubt take a good number of years), the constitutional foundations of Anglicanism will change, and they will change in what is, from my perspective, a positive direction, which is to say, a more Catholic direction. At this afternoon's press conference, Archbishop Rowan was asked directly about his habit of speaking of the Anglican Communion as "a church" rather than something like "a family of churches." He unequivocally "owned" his choice of words, suggesting that the only way the Communion is going to hold together in any meaningful way is if it finds a way to be more coherent and less fragmented. This, again, is cause for thanksgiving.

What about my wishes?

What do I wish for? … What I wish for is that the bishops read and take to heart the open letter from the Reverend Dr Ephraim Radner. This is would be the best news possible for Anglicans, for other Christians , and even for Episcopalians, though it is medicine that many among us will find bitter to the taste. We would find, in time, however, that it is sweet to the stomach. Of course, this is not something I am either expecting or hoping for. It would require a sovereign move of the Holy Spirit.

The conference gets mixed marks here. (Or is it the Holy Spirit who should get the mixed marks? Hmmm.)

The Covenant process was affirmed and moved forward. Check.

Both the WCG reports and the Archbishop's personal remarks directly mentioned, and in a highly favorable manner, the Communion Partners initiative, which could be construed as a response to Dr Radner's call for ways of recognizing and working with disaffected elements in North America who are nonetheless communion-minded. Semi-check. I would like to have seen more.

The initiative toward a Pastoral Forum to serve as a sort of "escrow" for those communities that have already placed themselves under offshore oversight has the potential, at least, to address Dr Radner's concern that the GAFCON coalition be engaged seriously and sympathetically. Quite frankly, the jury will have to remain out on this one, because the verdict will depend on how quickly and in what form the panel's recommendations are given substance and life. It was encouraging to hear Rowan affirm yet again today that it needs to happen quite soon. So now it needs to actually happen. Quite soon. Possible check in October. If nothing's in place by November, or if it's not something sufficiently robust and confidence-inspiring that would, say, enable to Bishop Venables to hand the keys of the Anglican Diocese of San Joaquin over to the Escrow Officer, then the whole idea is a bust. Time is of the essence.

The conference did reaffirm the moratoria requested by the Windsor Report, and that's a good thing, so put a small check mark in that column. But the Radner memo also called for TEC's bishops to be told clearly (I'm paraphrasing here), "Live this way for the foreseeable future. If you can't, don't bother sending your Presiding Bishop to the next Primates' Meeting, or your elected representatives to the Anglican Consultative Council next spring. You're on lockdown until you can decide whether you want to be part of this family or not." (OK, I guess "time out" would be more charitable than "lockdown." But it felt good to say it.) This message definitely did not get conveyed, and I'm disappointed in that. I didn't get what I wished for. But, hey, I never expected it anyway!

(I am indebted to my friend Christopher Wells for his dissection of Lambeth with regard to the Radner memo in a private message.)

A final word about the process that guided the conference: It was intentionally not legislative. There were no resolutions and no votes. Dr Williams has received heavy criticism for this. While I—linear-thinking western white male that I am—would have wished to see the Lambeth bishops hold an actual vote and by that means resoundingly endorse the present draft of the Covenant (along with all of the WCG recommendations, and I.10 from '98 for good measure), I am not unable to discern a measure of wisdom in the non-parliamentary tack that Rowan has taken, frustrating though it may be. Because of that decision on his part, it may be that the effect of this now-concluding conference will not be like the decisive explosion of a bomb (one of those behemoth "bunker busters", no doubt), but more like the slowly gathering momentum of a volcanic eruption—i.e. the one on the island of Hawaii that hasn't forcefully blown anybody away, but just keeps on pouring lava until it alters the landscape more substantially and more enduringly than a great many bunker-buster bombs could have done. The process will be slow. TEC and its allies and clients will do all in their power to retard and obfuscate. It will be our vocation—my vocation, at any rate, I suspect—to suffer and pray our way through some times that are darker than we can imagine. As I consider my own calling, that suffering and praying will take place amid leading worship and celebrating the sacraments and evangelizing and catechizing and delivering pastoral care to people who are trying to raise families and deal with diminishing health and figure out how to conduct themselves responsibly and faithfully in a challenging post-Christian society. For that dose of reality, refreshingly ordinary, I am also grateful.

Seeing the Whole Board

In a particularly fine episode of The West Wing (which, for the record, I still miss), President Bartlett is playing chess one evening with Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn while frequently stepping out of the room (Sam's office) to play "chicken" with China, which is gearing up for a military confrontation with a U.S. aircraft carrier off its coast. The chess match becomes a microcosm of the international crisis, and the discussion of one leads to a discussion of the other, and vice versa. The President's sage advice to his protégé is, "See the whole board. See the whole board." In other words, don't think simply in terms of your next move (and still less of merely reacting to the moves of your opponent). Think several moves ahead. And see the whole board.

It was an eventful day at the Lambeth Conference. In this final week, substantive issues are finally floating to the surface. The Windsor Continuation Group has released all sections of its report, and the bishops have had an opportunity to discuss it in what amounted to a plenary session (though I don't think that's what it was officially). It reaffirms earlier calls for moratoria on the consecration of non-celibate homosexual bishops and on the blessing of same-sex unions. The Episcopal Church has arguably already agreed to the former (B033 from GC '06). As to the latter, some (namely, the Joint Standing Committee of the Anglican Consultative Council and the Primates' Meeting, and, according to his remarks in an interview at the outset of the conference, the Archbishop of Canterbury) have contended that it was also agreed to at the House of Bishops meeting in New Orleans last September. However, this interpretation has been expressly denied, many months ago by the Bishop of New Hampshire, and only today by the Bishops of California and Washington.

The proverbial other shoe, of course, is that those who have become involved in ad hoc episcopal oversight arrangements (let's call them the GAFCON Community) need to assume the "parade rest" position and stay there for a bit while the dust settles, then start thinking in terms of reconciliation with their proper geographic provinces—the implicit assumption, of course, being that these provinces will have committed themselves concretely to the other moratoria.

As a means of facilitating the implementation of this scheme (and I use the term in the non-pejorative British sense), two new bits of bureaucratic infrastructure are envisioned: a Faith and Order Commission, which will presumably be the arbiter of just where the theological boundaries of the Anglican big tent actually are, and a Pastoral Forum, which would effectively be a Court of Appeal which would assist (and I'm honestly not meaning to be cynical here) in the process of reconciling parishes and dioceses that are part of the GAFCON Community with their respective provinces by creating what has been likened to an "escrow," a sort of holding tank for these entities to live and move and have their being while everything is being sorted out.

And while this is all taking place, the Anglican Covenant would be developed and adopted, and thus provide the context and framework in which everything can play out safely.

This is a broad stroke summary, I realize, but ... hey … anyone reading this blog has probably already digested the primary sources anyway, right??!!

Well, response from the left—which is to say the mainstream of the Episcopal Church—has been swift and predictably adverse. I could have told you that without even reading any of the responses, but, in fact, I have—on blogs, on the HoB/D, and from some of the American bishops themselves. Response from the right, particularly the "GAFCON Community" right, has ranged from immediate howls of ridicule to cautious appreciation for the content of the proposals clothed in deep skepticism about their implementation.

Nobody in Canterbury, or anywhere else in the Anglican world, is seeking my advice tonight. For pretty much precisely that reason, I'm going to give it anyway. Not so much to my friends who hold what they believe are "inclusive" and "progressive" positions—I cannot presume to advise my worthy opponents—but to my GAFCON friends, whom I esteem even as I do not share some of their perceptions. And my advice is this: See the whole board. See the whole board.

Rather than indulging in dismissive reactivity, look a few moves ahead. Let's assume, for the moment, that the Lambeth Conference formally approves and commends something that looks pretty much like the Windsor Continuation Group's proposals. (I don't know whether it's safe to assume that or not, though I hope it is.) It would mean that there would be great pressure on Fort Worth and Pittsburgh to hold back from pulling the trigger on their separation from the Episcopal Church as they commit themselves to the care of the Pastoral Forum and allow the process to work itself out. That will sting, and will require some maturity and restraint.

But hang with me here. What happens next? The General Convention, less than a year away, will act on these proposals in some fashion. Everyone who believes GC will respond positively please raise your hand.

I don't see any hands.

So where does that leave us? It is now worth observing that the WCG report specifically mentions the Communion Partners Bishops in TEC as … well, let's quote them exactly:

We are encouraged by the planned setting up of the Communion Partners initiative in the Episcopal Church as a means of sustaining those who feel at odds with developments taking place in their own Province but who wish to be loyal to, and to maintain, their fellowship within TEC and within the Anglican Communion.

Anyone want to connect the dots? My GAFCON Community friends are keen on seeing TEC "disciplined" in some concrete way. So am I. So are most other "communion conservatives." What the Lambeth Conference is, one hopes, on the brink of setting up is the instrumental means by which the Episcopal Church will be the agent of its own discipline. (For the record, I have seen this one coming since virtually the last day of General Convention in Columbus two years ago.) By rejecting (what I might, in an anticipatory fashion, call) the Lambeth Plan, TEC will be "self-selecting" itself right out of the full membership in the Anglican Communion. And what is now known as the Communion Partners Initiative will form the safety net into which parishes and dioceses (and possibly individuals?) who find themselves in the Episcopal Church but who do not wish to be of it in the sense of its reduced status within the Communion may allow themselves to fall.

For orthodox Anglicans in North America, the end game envisioned by the GAFCON community is not all that different from the end game envisioned by the Lambeth Plan. The latter is just a whole lot better, because it has the potential to preserve the Anglican Communion in some semblance of continuity with the form in which we already know it and love it, and preserve the highest level of unity among the highest number of Anglicans.

See the whole board.

Expecting, Hoping, Wishing

The Lambeth Conference is now well underway--though still in the 'retreat' phase--as is my vacation--though not yet in the 'retreat' phase. I've got some down time on my hands before dinner plans materialize, so here I am in my daughter's apartment in the Atlanta area skimming the avalanche of news and blogs emanating from Kentish regions. Rumors are already flying, but there's nothing yet to get worked up about, in my not-necessarily-humble opinion.

As I try to get in touch with my own expectations, hopes, and wishes about Lambeth, I'm aware of the necessity of maintaining precisely those distinctions--expectations, hopes, and wishes.

What do I expect? I expect, at the very least, that the Archbishop's Indaba groups will indeed have the desired and intended effect of strengthening the bonds of affection and respect among bishops of the Communion. This would be a good thing. Not a sufficiently good thing, one might argue, given the imperiled state of Anglicanland, but, nontheless, in itself a good thing. It will do no harm, and may plant the sort of seeds that can yeild unexpectedly fruitful harvests at time and under circimstances that we cannot presently imagine.

What do I hope for? A hope is more ephemeral than an expectation but more substantive than a wish. I believe that there is reason for hope that the bishops will give the Anglican Covenant development process a steroid shot, and that the process will continue with renewed energy. I have always advocated an organic resolution to our afflictions, and a Covenant is in my opinion (once again, not so humble) the most salutary route to that destination. I am saddened but not surprised, by the GAFCON response, just made available to day, to the St Andrew's Draft. I agree with those critics who remind us of the need to address the present crisis, but I respectfully take issue with their contention that the St Andrew's Draft fails to do so. Perhaps the Appendix needs to be given some more heft in some way, but the tools are all there. For precisely this reason, the response of the great majority of Episcopal dioceses that have responded (Northern Indiana being a notable exception) has been overwhelmingly negative. What are they seeing (and not liking) that our GAFCON friends are missing? At any rate, I have hope that the bishops assembled at Lambeth 2008 will turn up the flame under the Covenant process.

What do I wish for? Now we're into more nebulous territory, but a wish left unarticulated will almost certainly be a wish left unfulfilled. What I wish for is that the bishops read and take to heart the open letter from the Reverend Dr Ephraim Radner. This is would be the best news possible for Anglicans, for other Christians , and even for Episcopalians, though it is medicine that many among us will find bitter to the taste. We would find, in time, however, that it is sweet to the stomach. Of course, this is not something I am either expecting or hoping for. It would require a sovereign move of the Holy Spirit. Veni, sanctae spiritus.

Schofield Update

Last night I thought I was giving up punditry for a while, but ... oh well.

The archbishop's letter is a pretty masterful example of walking a fine line. It can be parsed a number of different ways, depending on what one wants to hear, as is already amply evident in blogland comments.

But once in a while, I have access to information that enables me to be more of a journalist than a pundit. So the question arises, Is there a backstory? Could it be that the letter that was made public today did not appear ex nihilo, but represents the fruit of some rather complex negotiations? Could it be that, while the Archbishop was never of a mind to rescind Bishop Schofield's Lambeth invitation, that the Bishop's last-minute decision to cancel his travel plans represents more than his health-based aversion to overseas travel (which is quite real), but, in fact, is at some level an acquiescence to Rowan's express preferences?

On balance, I would tend to score this one: Advantage Schofield (and, by extension, Venables, and by further extension, GAFCON). Not point or set yet, and certainly not match. But the Archbishop of Canterbury has manifestly declined to recognize Bishop Schofield's deposition by the Presiding Bishop, and has held open the possibility, through the ongoing work of the Windsor Continuation Group, of in future recognizing the relationship between San Joaquin and the Southern Cone.

Moreover, the strongest negative statement the Archbishop was able to make was that Bishop Schofield's status "remains unclear on the basis of the general norms of Anglican Canon Law." While that may at first blush have an ominous aspect, upon closer inspection it is quite harmless because it is not only true, but completely self-evidently true in a manner that no rational person would contest it. Hence, it isn't even controversial. Not even the most diehard GAFCON-ite would disagree that a province in South America having a diocese in central California is outside the "general norms of Anglican Canon Law."

That's tantamount to saying that rain in the San Joaquin Valley in July is "outside the general norms of local weather patterns." The question is, does such an outside-the-norm arrangement contribute to the greater good of the Anglican Communion. The jury's still out on that one.

Rowan on San Joaquin

These are the words of the Archbishop of Canterbury, as quoted in a letter from Bishop Venables to the (Anglican) Diocese of San Joaquin:

I understand that Bishop John-DavidSchofield has been accepted as a full member of the episcopal fellowship of the Province of the Southern Cone within the Anglican Communion and as such cannot be regarded as having withdrawn from the Anglican Communion. However, it is acknowledged that his exact status (especially given the complications surrounding the congregations associated with him) remains unclear on the basis of the general norms of Anglican Canon Law, and this constitutes one of the issues on which we hope for assistance from the WindsorContinuation Group. Bishop Schofield has elected to decline the invitation to the Lambeth Conference issued to him last year although that decision does not signal any withdrawal from the Communion. I hope there may be further careful reflection to clarify the terms on which he will exercise his ministry.

There is obviously some "music" behind these words, but I'm not yet sure what the tune is. Undoubtedly, it will become more distinct in time.

Plain Logic

The Lambeth Conference begins in earnest this week. I'm on information overload. And if I try to be a pundit, I'll just be contributing to everyone else's information overload. Fortunately, my vacation also begins in earnest this week! This coming weekend will find us in Atlanta, if all goes according to plan, then three nights at a B&B on Tybee Island, Georgia, where, if God is merciful, I will not be able to find an internet connection.

I'm not swearing off making comments about Lambeth during Lambeth, but I very well might not. For the time being, though, I'm going to confine myself to a subject about which I have some more specialized knowledge--namely, my old diocese of San Joaquin.

First, my usual disclaimer: I'm an Episcopalian. I joyfully serve an Episcopal parish as Rector. I have no plans to become anything else. I deplore the action that the convention of the Diocese of San Joaquin took last December. I think it was a huge and destructive mistake.

OK?

So ... last week, the putative bishop of the putative "Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin" wrote a letter to all the clergy who were on the rolls of the diocese as it was constituted prior to December 8, 2007. He basically offered them three choices: 1) Pledge me your fealty, 2) Renounce your orders in TEC "without prejudice", 3) Be deposed from the ordained ministry. Oh ... and I need your answer in three weeks. Oh ... and I'll be in England for three weeks. But if you can catch me, I'm certainly eager to sit down and talk with you.

Strange timing.

Now, aside from the ... what shall we say? ... ungenerous ... tone of the missive, it raises some curious issues. It comes as no news that, for a number of substantive technical reasons, I recognize neither the constitutional foundation of the "Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin" nor the authority of Bishop Jerry Lamb. By any rational reading of the Constitution & Canons of the Episcopal Church, we're talking about a bogus diocese with a bogus bishop, though they have some impressive-looking stationery. That they exist at all, and are able to maintain the chimera of legitimacy is a result only of the raw exercise of naked political power on the part of the Presiding Bishop. She is manifestly guilty of presentable offenses, but it will never happen because the political calculus just isn't there. At least four Standing Committees, and their bishops, agree with this assessment, and this doesn't even count the standard "bad guys" that are all set to follow San Joaquin out of TEC either sooner or later. These are dioceses that are playing ball inside "this church."

Anyway ... follow my thinking here: Bishop Lamb's letter was addressed to a bunch of clergy who have already chosen Door #3 and aren't looking back. Yet, he addresses them as clergy of the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin. Presumably, then, they should be counted in the number of clergy that forms the basis for the determination of a quorum at a convention of the diocese. Yet, how many of the "leavers" were present in Lodi last March when the Presiding Bishop called to order a "convention" that called Bishop Lamb to serve as their provisional bishop, and elected a new Standing Committee and a new Diocesan Council?

How 'about: Zero.

Zero is a pretty safe bet on that one.

So if these clergy, whom Bishop Lamb presumes to be in good standing until August 5 unless they signal otherwise before then, were not present in Lodi last March, how could there possibly have been a canonical quorum to validate the actions that the conclave took?

The answer is simple: There wasn't. There was no quorum. Bishop Lamb's own letter knocks out the scaffolding from under his pretension to be the Bishop of San Joaquin.

Not that this glaringly obvious fact will matter to anyone in power.

A Shameless Personal Plug

It's not like this is an uneventful week in Anglicanland. As if, in the light of GAFCON, the bishops beginning to gather in Canterbury for the decennial Lambeth Conference were not already operating in a sufficiently drama-charged environment, the shadows are lengthened by what happened earlier this week in the Church of England's General Synod. It isn't so much what they did that adds fuel to the flame--that much was a foregone conclusion--it was how they did it. The devil, as we know, is in the details.

But I digress. I'm not going to get into all that right now, mostly because, if I have an ounce of marginal influence in things Episcopal, I have not the wisp of any influence across the sea. So I shall keep my own counsel until Lambeth gets going.

Back to my personal plug.

For the last eight years, I've been working on a novel. Writing one, that is, not reading one. That it took me that long is no testimony to its length--it's a relatively modest 100,000 words or so--but simply to the fact that it was very much a "spare time" project, maybe like restoring a classic car in one's garage. Or building a robot, perhaps.

Anyway, it's done. It's been proof-read. It's been gone over by an independent editor to whom I paid actual money, and I have made a good-faith effort to incorporate her suggestions in revising my work. The book is finished. I'm ready to (please don't shoot me for saying this) "take it to the next level."

Which is to say, I need an agent. One who will find me a publisher. It's not best-seller material, and nobody's going to be able to retire off of this deal, but it's a story that deserves to see the light of day, and the writing is occasionally surprisingly good. At least that's how it strikes me when I look at a passage I haven't seen in five years and think to myself, "Damn! Did I write this? It's actually not bad." And I bet there are some people who would pay money to read it.

So if you know an agent, or better yet, if you are an agent, you know where to find me. I will be more than happy to zap you two or three chapters so you can get a taste.

My high school English teachers always said "Write about something you know." So I wrote about an Episcopal priest who's about to turn fifty, because that was me when I started writing. But the story is assuredly not autobiographical (something which I have to constantly reassure my wife of, since the narrative begins at the main character's wife's funeral.) But, of course, I do exploit my knowledge of what the daily life of a member of the clergy is like in order to give veracity to my story.

If I could bottle my aspirations as a novelist, shake them together and pour them out into a glass, we would have a hybrid that represents a cross between an American Susan Howatch and an Anglican Andrew Greeley. I would not presume to put myself in the same league with those accomplished authors, but I like to think I'm worthy of at least swimming in their wake. It's about real stuff that happens to real people. If it were a movie, it woud be R-rated--not more than that but not less--in spots.

The working title is from St Paul to the Corinthians: "This Slight Momentary Affliction."

OK people, work your networks.

York Lauds Canterbury

(To the cognoscenti, there's a level of pun-ditry in that title that was unintentional, but it's too delicious to remove.)

Rowan Williams has taken flak from all sides pretty much from the beginning of his tenure. He inherited the helm of the Anglican Communion at a particularly difficult time. I've confessed before that I was disappointed at the news of his appointment; I had preferred Richard Chartres--then, as now, Bishop of London. But my estimation for Rowan has only grown as I have watched him handle himself in this ongoing drama.

With a hat tip to Fr Tony Clavier, I quote below the remarks, just given in the C of E's General Synod, of the #2 prelate, John Sentamu, Archbishop of York:

It has grieved me deeply to hear reports of the ungracious personalisation of the issues through the criticism and scapegoating of Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Rowan Williams exemplifies that quest of holding together holiness, truth, love and unity.

The accusations and inferences of what has been said by some are not only ungenerous and unwarranted but they describe a person I don't recognise as Rowan. He demonstrates, in his dealings with others, the gift of gracious-magnanimity.

The Archbishop of Canterbury, in the current contested debate on sexuality, is a model of attentive listening, interpretative-charity, and exemplifies a Christian - occupying the seat of St Augustine.

Hear, hear.

Our Nation's Birthday

From the Liturgical Notes section of last Sunday's service booklet in my parish:

In the calendar of the American Prayer Book, Independence Day (Friday, July 4) ranks as a “major feast” (see p.17)—a collect and lessons are provided. (Thanksgiving Day is the other U.S. national holiday to enjoy similar status.) Such observances call to mind the oft-troubled history of church-state relations, not only in our own country today, but going back to Roman times. Our national identity was formed as part of concerted effort to foster mutual tolerance among Christian denominations with divergent viewpoints. This gave rise to a doctrine than has come to be known as the “separation of church and state.” We used to know what that expression means, but over the last fifty years or so, it seems to have become less clear.

Two things are clear, however: First, Jesus told us that we are to be in the world. The world observes political/ethnic/national categories, and we need not resist those categories. We should be good citizens, pay our taxes, and, as a general rule, obey the law. We may even love our country!

Second, Jesus also told us that we are not of the world. Our true citizenship is elsewhere (Philippians 3:20), and our bond with other Christians, established in our common baptism, is stronger and more commanding on our loyalty than those of national identity. All Christians are, in a sense, “resident aliens,” no matter what country they live in.

Spin Meter in the Red Zone

The Presiding Bishop has issued her response to GAFCON. It is pithy:

Much of the Anglican world must be lamenting the latest emission from GAFCON. Anglicanism has always been broader than some find comfortable. This statement does not represent the end of Anglicanism, merely another chapter in a centuries-old struggle for dominance by those who consider themselves the only true believers. Anglicans will continue to worship God in their churches, serve the hungry and needy in their communities, and build missional relationships with others across the globe, despite the desire of a few leaders to narrow the influence of the gospel. We look forward to the opportunities of the Lambeth Conference for constructive conversation, inspired prayer, and relational encounters.

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop and Primate
The Episcopal Church

As I have mentioned before, if Bishop Jefferts Schori knows what she's doing, it's scary, and this is one more example. The other possibility is that she is authentically clueless, which is even scarier.

"Much of the Anglican world must be lamenting..."

How much is "much"? On sheer raw numbers alone, and just considering bishops for the moment, those who were in Jerusalem last week account for a considerably larger portion of "the Anglican world" than the Episcopal Church does. But when you factor in the actual number of Anglican Christians represented by the GAFCON bishops, it is an overwhelming majority of said world. So ... how many does that leave to do the lamenting?

"...the latest emission from GAFCON."

Hello? Emission? What an odd choice of words. Either the PB needs to dust off her thesaurus or she deliberately chose an incredibly demeaning and belittling term by which to refer to most of "the Anglican world." The first thing that comes to my mind when I hear the word emission is flatulence. Maybe that's how she really feels. But to say so publicly demonstrates a bit less ... well ... class than we should be entitled to expect from a Presiding Bishop.

"Anglicanism has always been broader than some find comfortable."

No news there. But even the much-vaunted comprehensiveness of Anglicanism has its limits, as the Archbishop of Canterbury's own response to GAFCON today reminds us.

This statement does not represent the end of Anglicanism, merely another chapter in a centuries-old struggle for dominance by those who consider themselves the only true believers.

This is getting pretty rich. Can she say this while looking in a mirror and keep a straight face? If she can't, it indicates that she is being deliberately dissembling. If she can, it confirms suspicions that she's clueless.

Anglicans will continue to worship God in their churches, serve the hungry and needy in their communities, and build missional relationships with others across the globe..."

Ah, yes. But what is worship? Is it the adoration of the triune God of the creeds--i.e. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit--or the designer god, trinity-like, that seems to be the object of much of the worship in many Episcopal churches? And does she have in mind serving the hungry and needy in ways that seek to satisfy the hunger in their souls with the news of what God has done in Jesus, or, per the recent video ad campaign of TEC, handing out a bowl of soup with no accompanying word that it's being done in the name of Christ? And while I'm not sure what she means by "missional relationship," I have it on good authority that the officially appointed missionaries of the Episcopal Church are instructed in their training that their work is not about changing anybody's religion. That is, to say the least, a bizarre notion of a "missional relationship" in most of the Anglican world. Indeed, a lamentable one.

"...despite the desire of a few leaders to narrow the influence of the gospel."

A few leaders? Another head-in-the-sand comment. See above.

We look forward to the opportunities of the Lambeth Conference for constructive conversation, inspired prayer, and relational encounters.

I'm sure she does look forward to Lambeth. But, according to the Windsor Report, she should be voluntary absenting herself from the councils of the Communion. The honest thing for her, and several other TEC bishops, to do would be to stay away from Kent next month and find a nice place in, say, Scotland to have a restful vacation.

Yeah, these are sharp remarks. And, hey, I'm not even a GAFCON-ite. Some of the GAFCON-ites think I'm suspiciously left-leaning. That should be a big clue.

A First Take on the Jerusalem Declaration

(...including the preliminary material.)

I do mean a first take. I'm cherry picking here, and will doubtless have more to say when I've had a chance to analyze it more closely.

I am distressed to see a continuation of broad-brush binary rhetoric that has characterized many of those behind GAFCON for a long time now.

The first fact is the acceptance and promotion within the provinces of the Anglican Communion of a different ‘gospel’ (cf. Galatians 1:6-8) which is contrary to the apostolic gospel. This false gospel undermines the authority of God’s Word written and the uniqueness of Jesus Christ as the author of salvation from sin, death and judgement. Many of its proponents claim that all religions offer equal access to God and that Jesus is only a way, not the way, the truth and the life. It promotes a variety of sexual preferences and immoral behaviour as a universal human right. It claims God’s blessing for same-sex unions over against the biblical teaching on holy matrimony. In 2003 this false gospel led to the consecration of a bishop living in a homosexual relationship. ... The second fact is the declaration by provincial bodies in the Global South that they are out of communion with bishops and churches that promote this false gospel.

The truth is that the Episcopal Church, as such, is not formally guilty of these accusations. If I believed it were, I would not be in it. It is true that many, or most, of the bishops and top lay and clergy leaders are personally guilty, but the institution is not. I attended an ordination to the priesthood last night, using the official formularies of the Episcopal Church, and the ordinand professed belief in the authority of Scripture in virtually the exact same language as does the Jerusalem Declaration. GAFCON is confusing perception with reality. Is the Episcopal Church sick and in a sorry mess? You bet. Has it formally embraced "another gospel"? Not by any rational account.

Then there's this:

While acknowledging the nature of Canterbury as an historic see, we do not accept that Anglican identity is determined necessarily through recognition by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I refer back to my previous post and the overbearing Evangelical ecclesiology underlying the work of the Jerusalem pilgrims. To unhook Anglicanism from the historic See of Canterbury makes it just one more Protestant denomination, not a church. In that I have no interest.

Re Holy Scripture:

The Bible is to be translated, read, preached, taught and obeyed in its plain and canonical sense, respectful of the church’s historic and consensual reading.

Not bad. My Catholic heart rejoices in the final clause.

On Councils:

We uphold the four Ecumenical Councils and the three historic Creeds as expressing the rule of faith of the one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

This is perhaps a quibble, but I would have liked to see the first seven cited.

On the 39:

We uphold the Thirty-nine Articles as containing the true doctrine of the Church agreeing with God’s Word and as authoritative for Anglicans today.

This one is trouble. It is certainly trouble with liberals, but they're not really invited to this party anyway. But it's also trouble for Catholics, who have never liked them. I'd like to know if there is a GAFCON equivalent of Newman's Tract 90.

Re the North American "problem":

We are committed to the unity of all those who know and love Christ and to building authentic ecumenical relationships. We recognise the orders and jurisdiction of those Anglicans who uphold orthodox faith and practice, and we encourage them to join us in this declaration. ... We urge the Primates’ Council to authenticate and recognise confessing Anglican jurisdictions, clergy and congregations and to encourage all Anglicans to promote the gospel and defend the faith. ... we believe the time is now ripe for the formation of a province in North America for the federation currently known as Common Cause Partnership to be recognised by the Primates’ Council.

Though I speak as one who remains in the Episcopal Church, I would be encouraged to learn that all this means that the current alphabet soup of non-Episcopalian Anglicans on this continent is going to organize itself into a sort of shadow province. If nothing else, it appeals to my sense of order. I hope those who do so reconfigure themselves will be of a heart to maintain cordial relations with orthodox Episcopalians. Indeed, at least three Episcopal bishops who have not yet expressed an intention to leave were present at GAFCON.

The entire communique (which have, as of this moment, curiously been removed from the section of cyberspace that "broke the story") merits more careful consideration as time passes.

Some GAFCON Buckshot

In a few hours, we should be able to have a look at the final GAFCON communique. Since my last post four days ago, the vibes I'm picking up seem to suggest a swing back in the direction favored by the more hard-liners, some of whom would like to see a con-Canterburian sort of post-Anglicanism come into being, but not all the way back in their direction. There are apparently some strong moderating voices--I know not whose they are, but will be interested to eventually learn--that are pulling back on the centripetal forces. For that much I, personally, am grateful.

It is also apparent that what is emerging is driven not merely by a conservative Anglican mindset, but by a conservative Evangelical Anglican mindset. I'm not sure this dynamic has been sufficiently accounted for in the various taxonomies of contemporary Anglicanism, which have tended to parse the landscape along Reasserter-Reappraiser (on sexuality) and Federal-Communion (on ecclesiology) polarities. There may be some correspondence between Evangelical-Federal and Catholic-Communion on the ecclesiology spectrum, but not consistently so; reality is way more complex than that.

So, as Catholic Anglican, I am left wondering where my team fits in with a GAFCON vision that is veering toward an overt confessionalism, something Catholics have tended to be standoffish about, and includes the likes of Sydney Archbishop Peter Jensen among its inner leadership ranks. Dr Jensen is an ultra-Protestant who once said he would rather go to Hell than attend Mass. His diocese is also spearheading the movement to allow unordained persons to preside at celebrations of the Eucharist, which is anathema to Catholics. Yet, committed Anglo-Catholics like +Jack Iker, +Keith Ackerman, and +John-David Schofield are all now in Jerusalem. I will be wanting to hear more on this.

Finally, a word on expectations seems in order. Since the latest iteration of this crisis commenced five years ago in Minneapolis, many on the starboard side of the boat, at least, have been searching for a sort of final resolution. The next Primates' Meeting, the next General Convention, the next statement from this or that commission, the next move by Canterbery, etc. etc.--all have been seen as potential watershed moments that would chart the future of Anglicanism one way or that other. Each of these potential turning points has ended up disappointing those who have had such expectations. GAFCON will be no exception. Is it important? Yes. Very important. Is it a sign of Game Over? No. It will nudge the process in whatever way it nudges the process. And we won't know just what way that is until the next generation, or the one after that, looks on it as history rather than current events. The inherent character of Anglicanism is evolutionary, not revolutionary.

A Positive Trajectory?

Fast-turnaround punditry is not my strength, so I may be skating on thin ice here. But what I am picking up from Jerusalem, both from readily-accessible news outlets and blogs of attendees, and more emphatically from what I consider a reliable back-channel source, GAFCON may be tilting away from the worst fears of "communion conservatives" like myself--i.e. the effective dissolution of Anglicanism. As we progress into the week, the rhetoric seems to be getting milder--not quite conciliatory, perhaps, but manifestly less bellicose.

Of course, there's a lot we don't know. Workshops and breakout sessions, I am led to understand, are not open to the credentialed press. But where there's a broadband internet connection, there are always leaks. And the leaks tend to support the notion that there will be no precipitate action taken toward the formation of an "anti-communion" that attempts to by-pass the ministry of the See of Canterbury.

Are we seeing the triumph the "communion conservatives" among the GAFCON leadership over the "federal conservatives" (see Graham Kings' graphic analysis here)? Is there a behind-the-scenes power struggle going on and is one side "winning"? This will no doubt the speculation of some members of the press, but I tend to think not. Reality is usually much more prosaic, and much more complex, than we might wish.

If this all turns out to be true, it is good news. It reinforces the point I made in my previous post about praying hopefully. Many of the people at GAFCON are those with whom I have in the past made common cause and whom I hold in high regard even as I have held that the event was conceived in too much passion and not enough strategic vision. Some, indeed, are, like me, committed to hanging in there with the Episcopal Church for the foreseeable future (the bishops of South Carolina and Western Louisiana come to mind). And some, in fact, will be at Lambeth. For this I rejoice.

Ecclesiastical politics are like Chicago weather; they can change drastically on a moment's notice. But tonight, at least, I'm a little less gloomy than I've been.