my ecclesiology

My Miss List:

1. Call me crazy, but I miss Anglican liturgy. Especially the prayer of confession:

ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father; We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there is no health in us. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders. Spare thou them, O God, who confess their faults. Restore thou them that are penitent; According to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ Jesu our Lord. And grant, O most merciful Father, for his sake; That we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life, To the glory of thy holy Name. Amen.

I miss feeling the words in my mouth while listening to everybody around me confess the same. I was awed by the mystery of grace, and the humility and hope that confession brings. I miss the ritual. I miss the physicality of kneeling.

2. I long for expository preaching– coming in contact with God’s Word and not some guys thoughts (as interesting as they are). God’s word unsettle me.

3. I miss sanctuary and sacredness. I miss an organ and piano. I miss sitting in a pew, which somehow wakes up a certain part of me, a memory of a large reality far beyond what I see.

4. I miss old people, weathered bodies and gentle wisdom, that one slows down for and chats with. From dust you came and to dust you shall return.

5. I miss reciting the Lord’s Prayer and the Nicene or Apostle’s Creed every week. I need these words every week to combat all the words and belief contrary that is everywhere.

6. I miss the space of the Bach prelude– the simple beauty that opens.

Most of what I miss are speaking words in unison, words that remind me that my faith is not mine and far bigger and richer than my own words. These words tell me that I am not alone. Last week, a girl did her version of the Lord’s Prayer. She substituted “I” and “me” for the original “we” and “us”. At one level, I understood what she was doing, but, nonetheless, I was horrified. Faith is not private or internal; orthodoxy cannot be divorced from orthopraxy. The “we” is central to both right belief and right action, and “we” includes the “I”. So her prayer narrowed the faith considerably.

My friend contends that churches have collective personalities, talents, gifts on the macro level that mirror individuals’ personalities, talents and gifts. So, the church we went to in Vancouver was a teaching church, which I loved. A lot of my friends went to a social justice church. There are praying churches too.The church I go to now is a hybrid: artsy and communal. It offers some really good teaching, but it feels kind of on the margin compared to art and small, intentional community. My writing group and friends are cool, but I think I need expository preaching and intentional spiritual formation. Maybe I should look into a spiritual director and go to an expository and liturgical church one sunday a month. There’s got to be a way to balance. And, following my friend’s analogy, one church cannot serve all your needs, but maybe it’s how I can serve. How novel a concept for me! The Church is actually the local church, the small communities that can be so concrete and irritating.

feminism: prostitution and theological debate

On the news tonight, Sen. Debbie Stabanow’s husband, Thomas Athans, got caught in an internet prostitution sting. Here’s a link to the Detroit News. What’s infuriating is that the 20 year old woman was arrested, and he walked away… embarrassed. Elliott Spitzer lost his political career but was not charged with prostitution. Everybody condemns the double standard, but nobody seeks to change it. If prostitution is illegal, either both or neither party should be charged with prostitution. As it stands, prostitution is illegal for poor women and condoned in the men who play golf with the prosecutors. It’s not only unjust but poor logic.

Not only are women faced with inequality in the justice system, women’s equality is still debated in theological circles. The Duke Socratic Club and the Women of the Divinity School are sponsoring a debate, No Male or Female? A Conversation on St. Paul and Women.

In an ideal world, feminisms shouldn’t have to exist. After women’s success in academics and professions coupled with Affirmative Action, Title IX and other moral legislation, women’s equality seems like it should be a given. But, women are not equal in view of the law nor have they ever been. Rape is a form of genocide and a crime against humanity; only recently, it has been declared a war crime.

Yet, what upsets me the most is women who criticize feminisms and feminists. I had a female roommate who only said negative things about feminism. As a feminist raised and educated by feminists, I finally confronted her on it. Here we were studying theology at the master’s level, which is unprecedented throughout millenia of history, and she was unwilling to acknowledge the women who earned us that privilege. It amazes me that my brother has more feminist leanings than some of my girl friends, especially the ones I meet in church. Perhaps, I should take notes from them; apathy is far more comfortable than outrage.

salve for the bleeding soul

There are two nearby trail races:

A 10k on April 12th.

And, a half marathon on a trail on May 3rd.

Anybody in my vast readership game?

a life that wouldn’t make sense

The Irish Jesuits of Sacred Space posted this quotation for this week:

“When Jesus said ‘Let your light shine before all’, did he mean that we should be haranguing people in the street? It would not work. There was a time when street-preaching might have made an impact on people. Nowadays everyone who has a radio or TV is bombarded with messages from another sort of street-preacher, the advertisers. They beguile, hector, amuse and titillate in order to seduce you into buying. As Christians, we are not expected to rival them. We could not. Our Lord’s words are not about coercing other people into religion, but about doing good in a visible way, ‘so that others, seeing your good works, may glorify your father in heaven’. In Recife, Brazil, where great numbers of poor people were illiterate, Bishop Helder Camara used to instruct his catechists, ‘Sisters and brothers, watch how you live. Your lives may be the only gospel your neighbours will ever read.’ We are all witnesses, at every moment of the day. That does not mean shouting the Creed from the rooftops. It means When Jesus said ‘Let your light shine before all’, did he mean that we should be haranguing people in the street? It would not work. There was a time when street-preaching might have made an impact on people. Nowadays everyone who has a radio or TV is bombarded with messages from another sort of street-preacher, the advertisers. They beguile, hector, amuse and titillate in order to seduce you into buying. As Christians, we are not expected to rival them. We could not. Our Lord’s words are not about coercing other people into religion, but about doing good in a visible way, ‘so that others, seeing your good works, may glorify your father in heaven’. In Recife, Brazil, where great numbers of poor people were illiterate, Bishop Helder Camara used to instruct his catechists, ‘Sisters and brothers, watch how you live. Your lives may be the only gospel your neighbours will ever read.’ We are all witnesses, at every moment of the day. That does not mean shouting the Creed from the rooftops. It means living in such a way that our lives would not make sense if God did not exist. It means living in such a way that our lives would not make sense if God did not exist.”

Sacred Space prompted a memorable conversation for M and me. One of the monks had asked what are things that give you hope. I hadn’t thought of it concretely, but M had cobbled out a list, a short list of concrete things and experiences. I was going to let the question linger in the mist of abstraction, but she would have none of that. My list of hope givers is short, but it exists.

Likewise, “living in such a way that our lives would not make sense if God did not exist” compels me to ask the concrete details of what does this look like. Prayer doesn’t make sense outside of God. Kindness sort of makes sense outside of God (karma?) but not really. Forgiveness. Hope for specific people and situations. A lot of attitudes and postures towards things, ideas, people don’t make sense outside of God. I don’t know, but I see the monks’ logic in this kind of living being compelling. I’m trying to think of people who live this way and am struck by how my life doesn’t pass the litmus.

living locally: politics

The presidential campaign monopolizes political conversation, or at least all the ones I’ve had. National politics are far more sexy than local. There’s more money, more press, more people, more pundits, more opinions, more fireworks involved on the national level. National politics are sexy but vague. Or, maybe, they’re sexy because they’re vague. They’re vague and abstract. The buzz words are Change, Experience, The War, Health Care, Social Security and more exciting words that mean nothing outside of context.

No politician is asking the questions I am let alone answering them. For instance, I don’t want socialized medicine, especially after living in Canada. I want reform in the medical and insurance industries; the pricing has gotten out of control. Itemized billing replacing paying by visit was financial genius for the industry, but it sealed medicine’s fate as industry. People tend to forget that medicine and insurance industries have huge lobbying funds. The presidential candidates care more about any of the corporations than about me out of necessity. However, the reform I long for will not happen because there is too much money protecting the status quo. I dream of self-regulation, but that is optimism gone wild. So, I’m left with my cynicism and wondering which corporations are funding my vote.

Though not immune to corruption and abstraction, local politics offer a level of political engagement with concrete issues. The presidential campaign feels about on par with watching celebrity news, but instead of Nicole, Paris and Brittany bashing each other it is Barrack, Hillary and John. Instead of East Timor and rehab it’s Iraq and voting records.

I recognize that my interest’s shift from global to local is intellectually en vogue. There is a move to discussing the local reality in eccesiology and history (I presume in the humanities as a whole), a shift from abstract theorizing to local study. They took a lot of data and detected themes and birthed -isms.

Local politics make me feel human rather than a demographic. My vote might mean more than a lobbyist’s handout. Yet, I’m not even sure how to dive into local politics. Perhaps I should decide on a cause then ferret out others who share my passion.

mourning honor

My brother’s high school expelled a student for drinking a coke that wasn’t his. Their honor code had no caveats for Coke: honor and character are absolute in their code. A questionable character is exactly that. Graduates often tout the honor code as the most valuable lesson they learned.

My sister’s MBA program has an honor code and faculty council that considers mitigating circumstances. This style of honor reminds me of one of the ten commandments in Orwell’s Animal Farm: “All animals are equal. Some animals are more equal than others.” To qualify terms such as “honor” and “equality” is to dismiss them. Thucycdides, an Athenian general, declared that the clarion signal that revolution is when words’ denotations become wobbly and imprecise.

The Faculty of my sister’s program decided against enforcing the consequences for an honor code violation. The faculty threw out the Honor Court’s findings and allowed the students to stay without punishment to violations of the honor code thereby erroding the integrity and honor of the school: student body and faculty. Pragmatism is no substitute for principle. How postmodern of them. Ms. Ivory Tower meet Mr. Dollar Bill.

“Integrity” is a synonym of honor. “Integrity” and “integer” have the same Latin root, integr, that means whole or entire. Although the Coke incident seems draconian, the principle was and is never in question at my brother’s school. In honor, there are no degrees or mitigating circumstances. Honor is the difference between a hero and a coward and a martyr and an apostate. Shakespeare wrote a play about the tragedy of fractured integrity; it’s titled MacBeth. Afterall, partial wholeness is an oxymoron.

What kind of revolution are we in where honor is being dismantled by those who should by the nature of their office be its custodians?