Later this month the Supreme Court of the United States may make a definitive ruling on what many call “marriage equality,” that is, whether same-sex couples will have the same rights and responsibilities as heterosexual couples in legal marriage. To me, this is a basic issue of justice and civil rights under our Constitution. Two people, provided they’ve reached the age of majority, should have the right to choose to whom they wish to be married. And I pray that’s how the Court will decide.

The Episcopal Church, however, has a different standard and set of expectations when a couple enters into Christian Marriage as this Church has received that sacrament in our tradition. So, in the Church we aren’t primarily discerning justice and civil rights, but the theology and doctrine of Christian Marriage. It’s one thing to support justice and civil rights for all, but it’s another thing to contemplate changing how the Church understands her sacramental theology. Of course, The Episcopal Church significantly changed its theology of marriage about 50 years ago when we allowed remarriage after divorce. This sacrament, which had been understood as life-long, was now not necessarily so. Since that time, a divorced person can remarry in the Church, provided the Diocesan Bishop grants the required petition. With divorce so prevalent these days, very few people question the wisdom of the Church’s action then. So, we’ve changed our sacramental theology rather recently. The question remains: should we change it again?

My hunch is that everyone in our Church has different standards for what they see as acceptable sexual behavior. For example, how about consensual premarital sex? Is it OK after one becomes an adult, but not before? How about once one is engaged, but before the wedding? What about retired couples who, because of social security and pension reasons, see marriage as out of the question? Is it OK for them? If we’re honest with ourselves, we didn’t answer all the above questions the same. Yet, the traditional answer for all of them is “no.” In other words, we each have our own line that can’t be crossed, but it’s our line, and not necessarily God’s line.

We’ve already declared that a priest of our Church can bless same-sex relationships in God’s name. I wholeheartedly support such blessings and I see such blessings as an analogous, yet distinct good, from the practice of Christian Marriage. It’s similar, but it’s not the same. An example of analogous, yet distinct goods is the orders of ministry within the Church (laity, bishop, priest, deacon). Each share vocational virtues, but each is still distinct, offering particular charisms for building up the whole Body of Christ.

About the same time that the Supreme Court issues its ruling, our Church’s General Convention will gather in Salt Lake City. There, we’ll prayerfully debate and then discern what we believe God is calling us to do in terms of same-sex marriage. I don’t perceive there’s a consensus in our Church for one particular way forward. There are strong convictions on all sides concerning this discernment. But, because we tend to resolve hard questions like this by majority vote, my guess is we’ll in some way resolve this question in such a manner…at least for the next three years.

+Scott

 

eCrozier #70

Good is the Flesh is the name of a Brian Wren poem that composer Jack Redmond put to music. Good is the flesh. We must believe that. Jesus becoming one of us is God’s way of saying we’re worth being born and worth saving. As I get older and my flesh sags, it’s important to remember that my flesh is good, that Jesus came to earth not to save my soul, but all of me, including my sagging flesh. But many don’t believe their flesh is good, so they either treat their flesh like an amusement park or, as it begins to sag, they treat it like a construction zone. Christmas means that our flesh and blood matters.

The Scottish theologian T.F. Torrance argued that at Christmas Jesus enters every part of our diseased and alienated humanity and heals and transforms it. And this doesn’t stop with Christmas. Jesus takes us with him to the cross. And then he takes our healed and transformed humanity into heaven at his ascension. Thus, our humanity (and not just an idealized form of it) has been ascended into heaven. That’s why I can say without hesitation that God loves your flesh and God loves my flesh. Good is the flesh. When I see the world as it is, I have to force myself to remember Torrance’s insight. No matter how degraded the flesh, Jesus healed and transformed all human flesh at Christmas.

When I was a priest in East Cleveland, there were three Christmases in a row when walking into the sacristy on Christmas Eve I found the window broken out, the cabinet pried open, and a couple of bottles of communion wine missing. This amused me. It never amused the Altar Guild. But think of the absurdity of the thief’s act. He had to shinny up our drainpipe, break the window, climb through, and then pry open locked cabinets. There were silver and gold vessels for the taking and all he took were two bottles of wine. I joked after the third time that it was probably Santa Claus. Since he didn’t find any milk and cookies waiting for him, he took the wine. I thought it was funny, but I laughed alone. That’s when I noticed the thief’s blood. It was all over the counter near the broken window. It seems he paid in blood for the two bottles of wine. The Altar Guild was outraged. “We’ll all get AIDS if we touch that.” But I thought to myself: “Maybe only if we drink it. We catch a lot more when we drink Jesus’ blood in the Eucharist.” So, I cleaned up the blood and boarded up the window once again.

When Christmas came next year, my people had a plan. They were going to catch the thief. They organized a vigil for the sacristy. I suggested we put a bottle of wine on the window ledge with a note saying: “Merry Christmas! Drink up! You’ll catch what we caught.” But he didn’t come that year. The Grinch who stole the Christmas wine had either been scared off by the vigil, found better pickings elsewhere, or stayed away because of the blood. I like to think it was because of the blood. Maybe he didn’t think two bottles of wine were worth shedding blood? Maybe he saw a deeper theological meaning to his act? That’s what I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe he came to mass that night and shared the Christmas miracle with us. Maybe he was in my confirmation class the next year? Some of those guys looked edgy. Maybe he drank of the blood of Jesus and realized that his own flesh and blood were worth something now?

Good is the flesh.

+Scott

 

eCrozier #41

This is the third in a series of Ecroziers on the practices of the Christian Faith

Eucharistic Living

Our Catechism states (BCP p. 859): “The Holy Eucharist is the sacrament commanded by Christ for the continual remembrance of his life, death, and resurrection, until his coming again.” It is the “Church’s sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving” and it “is the way by which the sacrifice of Christ is made present, and in which he unites us to his one offering of himself.” The Eucharist isn’t a nostalgic look back on Maundy Thursday, but rather it’s making present the redeeming sacrifice of Jesus. The Eucharist provides us with a sacramental center that brings us to the truth of our lives. The bread and the wine are common elements of life made holy by Jesus restoring us in God’s creation. In the Eucharist, God’s future breaks into the present and then that one past, unrepeatable sacrifice catches up with us. The Eucharist shapes our present, common life and this practice strongly points us to the future.

The Eucharistic life is a life in relationship with God in Christ consecrated to others. It is life in the pattern of Jesus, a life represented at the altar, and experienced by all Christians. It is a life of being taken by God, blessed with identity, purpose and destiny; broken in our daily life of repentance; and given in the power of a renewed life as we seek to be instruments of God’s love. As Evelyn Underhill writes: the fully Christian life is a Eucharistic life: that is, a natural life conformed to the pattern of Jesus, given in its wholeness to God, laid on His altar as a sacrifice of love, and consecrated, transformed by His inpouring life, to be used to give life and food to other souls.

We live the Eucharist in our lives by taking our experience of being blessed, loved, forgiven, and fed and living out such practices. We are called to this individually in our work, homes, and community and corporately as the Church. Living the Eucharist in our lives helps us develop a congruity between our worship of God on Sunday and our daily practices on weekdays. Without such congruity there is an obvious disconnect from the practice of worship and the practice of living. Eucharistic living helps remind us of our need for such congruity between worship and life. As Bishop Frank Weston preached: [We] cannot claim to worship Jesus in the tabernacle if [we] do not pity Jesus in the slum. It is madness to suppose that [we] can worship Jesus in the Sacrament and Jesus on the throne of glory, when [we] are sweating Him in the bodies and souls of His children.

Eucharistic living helps us connect the dots of our lives. As we experience God’s gifts of acceptance, love, forgiveness, and spiritual food, we take those gifts into the world and incarnate them in the people and circumstances of our lives. Such Eucharistic living calls us to wholeness. It helps defragment our lives: to accept others as God has accepted us; to love others as God has loved us; to forgive as we have been forgiven; and, to feed others as we have been fed.

+Scott

 

eCrozier #34

I am away on silent retreat this week. In my silence and prayer I have discovered something new. Well, it is not exactly new. Like the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, we can all say: “there is nothing new under the sun.” But I have rediscovered a truth about myself and my hunch is that it is probably a universal human truth. The truth is I have trouble staying in the present; of welcoming the gift of the now; of being radically accepting of what God has given me in this present time.

Like so many, I spend an inordinate amount of time looking backward trying to fix what has been, whether that be in myself or in others. Of course, that is a fool’s errand, but it does not stop us from seeking to do it. I look backward and say: “If so-and-so had been just a bit nicer, or more open, or more loving, then things would have better.” I add a bit of self-examination to the mix and also say: “If I had been just a bit nicer, or more open, or more loving, then things would have better.” While such reflection is edifying to a point, it can also be spiritually paralyzing because it can delude us into believing we can fix the past, especially other people. And it can distract us from the gift of what God is doing in the present.

The same is true if we inordinately look to the future. We can get fixated on our schemes. Or, we can become enamored with the belief that what is coming must certainly be better than what is now. That may of course be true. We call that hope and hope will not fail us. I am not talking about hope though in this context. Rather, I am referring to that tendency in us that is impatient and manipulative; that desires to have God take a seat off to the side so we can program the future coming of the Kingdom. This, too, distracts us from God’s gift of today.

Church leaders need to look back to learn from where we have been. We need to look forward to discern where God may well be leading us. All that is meet and right so to do. But let’s be careful not to make such looking inordinate for if we do we may well miss the gift of God for the now. Maybe the best definition we could have of our faith is “the radical acceptance of the sacramental presence of Christ in the present.” God is working God’s purpose out in your life and my life today. That is faith. God is revealing our Savior Christ to us in the frail instrumentality of this day. Let us be mindful right now of such a revelation of grace.

+Scott

 

eCrozier #22

I have received from a number of our clergy petitions for remarriage after divorce, for special permission around some particular issue relating to an upcoming marriage, and requests from clergy outside the Diocese of Georgia to preside at the sacrament of marriage somewhere in the confines of our diocese (usually on one of the islands, which is not surprising). Let me just say here that the system set up by Bishop Henry for granting petitions and requests for special permission around the sacrament of marriage is solid and will not change. His system followed precisely the canons of the Church and we will continue to do so.

I do, however, want to take some space here to focus not on the canons, but rather on the opportunity we have when we preside at the sacrament of marriage. We have the opportunity to be both a catechist and an evangelist. I hope we will make great use of that opportunity. Marriage in our culture, it seems, is an institution awaiting a truthful definition these days. Our theology of marriage as a Church has not been as clear and as strong as it should be. Nevertheless, you and I have the opportunity and the responsibility to preach and teach a sacramental theology of marriage grounded in our tradition as Anglicans.

Our marriage rite in the Book of Common Prayer differentiates our theology of marriage from traditional catholic and protestant ones. Catholics traditionally have focused on marriage primarily in procreative terms, that is, the purpose is first and foremost for child-bearing and child-raising. Protestant definitions historically have focused on marriage as a means for controlling and containing the lustful passions. Neither one of those is wrong, but they both fall short of completing our sacramental understanding.

We Anglicans, because of our strong incarnational theology, would also add that the sacrament of marriage is a method of discipleship, which is missional in nature. Like the other sacraments, marriage calls those in it to a vocation that leads, as it is intended, to sanctification. Put another way, the sacrament of marriage is supposed to be, to a great extent, a school for developing Christian virtues. By living in this sacrament, married persons learn the disciplines necessary for Christian living. They learn what it means to forgive and be forgiven. They learn the habit of self-sacrifice and service. They come to participate in what it means to give your life to someone else and not hoard your life for yourself, thus they learn stewardship. This list of virtue schooling could go on. Of course, single folk can also learn these virtues through other means because such virtue is not limited to the married life.

I hope each time we prepare people for this sacrament and when we preach on the occasion of a sacrament of marriage (and please do not fail to do so), we will fulfill our responsibility and take the opportunity to teach this sacramental theology. Yes, people will not always listen to us (they may be dreaming of the food and drink at the reception), but that is not an excuse to ignore the opportunity. We never know who is listening and whose life our teaching might change.

+Scott