It’s The Polity

For a long time, Episcopal Church “conservatives” have argued that the conflict we now face goes back a lot further than the debate over sexuality — and I think the recent meeting of the House of Bishops supports that point, though in ways that ought to be uncomfortable for pretty much everyone.

“Conservatives” (whom I’ll hereafter call “reasserters,” in keeping with efforts to avoid characterizations that jeopardize the clarity and charity of the arguments) point to a long series of decisions in which the Episcopal Church has addressed itself to modernity by (adapting Alasdair MacIntyre’s words) giving skeptics less and less in which to disbelieve. The Bishop Pike trial in 1966 stands as a useful emblem of this — without detailed summary and evaluation, I’ll stipulate that his brother bishops’ decision that repudiating the Trinity did not disqualify Pike from the exercise of the office of bishop signals an ecclesiastical willingness to allow a breadth of theological conviction that seriously compromises the grounds on which the church might arrive at coherent conclusions on any theological point — except, of course, the formal criterion of whether the conclusion was reached by appropriate process.

(Much as I admire Pike’s vigorous support for the civil rights movement, for women and lesbians and gays in the church, his deliberate immersion in the culture of the day, I must distinguish those qualities from what Grace Cathedral diplomatically describes as his “attention-seeking personality” and his patently heterodox theology. One of Pike’s malignant bequests to the church is the sense that “liberal” policies carry an inevitable link to anti-traditional theology, a bequest that funds the popularity of each generation’s sensational disbelievers among responsible “liberals,” whom I’ll hereafter refer to as “reappraisers” for the reasons given above.)

Returning to the thread of my harangue, and speeding past many intriguing scenic overlooks on my way to our topic for the day: It begins to sound as though the Windsor Report meant to convey to the Episcopal Church the message that whatever the standing of our policy on human sexuality, our decision-making process and our governance had fallen out of whack.

This is concordant with some of what the reappraisers have been saying: It doesn’t matter if all the motions, bills, and votes were above-board if they entail contradicting essential elements of Christian faith and life (and no, we may not go back and vote on what constitutes an essential element; our idolatry of voting contributes to these problems).

On the other hand, if the Episcopal Church’s polity is so problematic, why did the rest of the Anglican Communion choose this particular moment to call it to our attention? It does no good to say, “Well, we meant to” or “We tried, but you weren’t listening”; if it’s the polity itself at fault, that polity has been pretty much in place for an awfully long time. It doesn’t work right to chastise us for defective polity only when we make decisions that others don’t like. If our compromised polity justifies cutting us off, then our polity has been cut-off-able for decades at least, and I’m suspicious of lofty statements that call us down just now.

What might be wrong with our polity? It looks to me as though the Episcopal Church (on both “sides”) tends to regard bishops as though they were state governors — “our elected officials.” That neglects the two aspects of a bishop’s vocation that look most important to me: the bishop’s role as a teacher, and the bishop’s role as the point where the local church (the diocese) interacts with the church catholic. On that basis, churches in Iran really do have a stake in whom the Diocese of Chicago elects as bishop; a bishop who can’t function as a liaison (either because the world refuses them, or their home diocese does) can’t fulfill a constitutive aspect of the bishop’s role. The Episcopal Church tacitly recognizes this through its assent process, and (ironically) just exercised the prerogative to not accept a bishop’s election on the grounds that not enough dioceses felt they could rely on that candidate to remain within the Episcopal Church.* Though we do not ask every diocese around the globe to consent to each episcopal election, the principle is the same: A bishop belongs both to the diocese and to the church catholic, and both need to accept the bishop in order to maintain sound polity.

So when the House of Bishops asserts that “the meaning of the Preamble to the Constitution of The Episcopal Church is determined solely by the General Convention of The Episcopal Church,” or that we have no intention of leaving the Anglican Communion but that our polity does not permit arrangements such as the Primates requested, they’re begging the question. It’s the polity itself that has come into focus as the problem. The Primates want a polity in which our bishops stand more fully accountable to the world church, because (on this interpretation) that’s part of their job description; and the Episcopal Church says, “You can’t exclude us because that’s not the way we do things.” The US position looks an awful lot like an assimilation of ecclesiastical roles to local civic models: the U.S. bishops should lobby on behalf of the citizens they represent to bring home favorable policies (and if the governors of Utah and Mississippi, even the President of the U.S., don’t like the governor of Iowa, it’s tough luck because the Iowans voted for her). That’s not my understanding of how the members of the Body of Christ work together to build up and strengthen the whole.

As usual, I’m not fully convinced by either side of the argument. On formal polity questions, I’m more sympathetic with the Primates; I believe in bishops and their important role as teachers and mediators between local and global churches. On particular theological conclusions, I’m more sympathetic with the U.S. church, though I arrive at that sympathy by a reasoning that more closely resembles the reasoning of the Primates. I continue to support the full inclusion of my neighbors in the leadership and sacramental life of a catholic communion. How that plays out, I can’t imagine right now. I’m not, however, overjoyed at the U.S. bishops’ bold firmness; I’m saddened at the mutual misunderstanding that our present situation bespeaks, and frustrated by partisan rhetoric all around.


* Much more to say about the Lawrence non-election, but I hope that South Carolina will renominate and re-elect him, and that the Standing Committees that had muffed their consents will execute them correctly. Maybe a few of the dioceses that had refused consent before will even make a consistent, sensible decision to reverse their previous refusal.

Danny the Second

Many of my wonderful online friends — Micah, Holly, Johanna, e — helpfully pointed me to one or another candidate for the version of Danny Duck that Margaret and I shared with our progeny. Alas, most of them are simply trading on the goodwill associated with the Danny Duck name, and are not the echt Danny (the books, not my wonderful friends). Our Danny is not “the” Duck, nor doth he “take a dive.” It’s not Danny’s Duck. He’s not the star of a book that floats in the shape of a duck, though it may have been a plasticky bath book, I don’t recall exactly. I reproduced its contents verbatim; that’s the one we’re looking for. “Imitations Disappoint,” as the Sapolio ad says.

From The Past

Margaret and I have increasing numbers of younger friends with small children. Because we care about good parenting, we want to share with our friends some of the benefit of our experience (this trick works especially well on people who actually know our children). In order to complete the prank, though, we need the help of someone who can lay his or her hands on copies of infant books — the kind that kids can’t themselves read, but they love hearing read to them over and over again. And again. “Again, Mommy! Read me, Daddy!”
 
So we’d be profoundly thankful to someone who can fix us up with that modern classic, Danny Duck. I cite from memory (Nate will correct me if I make a mistake):

Danny Duck loves the water
He belongs to the farmer’s daughter

On the pond he makes his home
But the farmyard’s where he likes to roam

All the animals hear him quack
As he pecks the corn out of the sack

The young farm dog who loves to play
Often chases him away

But out here in the summer sun
All the animals enjoy the fun!

The joy of having that seared in my memory I must share with my colleagues. Please tip me off if you know where I can get a copy or eight.
 
[29 November 2016 — Correspondent Tracey wants a copy too. She reminds me that the correct third line is ‘On the pond he makes his home’, not (as I had it before I corrected it) ‘In the barn he makes his home’. Thanks, Tracey!]

Long Day in Durham

Margaret, Pip and I kept busy today, wandering around the Duke campus and Margaret’s neighborhood in Durham. I have about enough energy to blog some highlights, accompanied by appropriate photos.

First, after we woke up and had a breakfast, we went to the Nasher Museum at Duke. It’s new even to Margaret; it was under construction the last time Pippa and I were here. Only one gallery was open, but even that was a treat. In the permanent collection I found a painting of The Feast of Herod, which I photographed for my New Testament II class (which spent a good class session probing that pericope in Mark).

Feast of Herod

Toward the center of the room that includes the painting, the museum displays a statue of St. Matthew that delights me. I’m not quite sure why; I suspect that this one strikes me for its lack of axegrinding. This Matthew doesn’t seem to me to typify anything.:

St Matthew

After the Nasher, we wandered in to the Bryan Center for lunch. I browsed the Gothic Bookstore, where I noted with disappointment that they weren’t displaying any of Mark Goodacre’s books. I mean, he’s only been working there a year and a half! Maybe they all sold out.

After the Bryan Center, we wandered back to East Campus via the Gardens, where Pippa perked up for the duck pond. We were pleased to see a Hooded Merganser, a Muscovy Duck, and a couple more whose names I’ve forgotten (and I’m too sleepy to look them up at the moment).

Uncertain Duck

Then a lovely dinner with Sarah and Clay and their impressively wonderful son Luke, home to Margaret’s apartment for a movie, and so to bed. It’ll be hard to leave tomorrow, even granted the vexingly Chicago-ic weather of the past few days.

Baudrillard Bigger Than Matrix

Encountered via links that began from Scott McLemee’s appreciation of Jean Baudrillard at Inside Higher Education: various other helpful online sources for learning more about an intellectual who had a lot more going on than just urging John Anderson to take the red pill.

Douglas Kellner’s overview in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (SEP seems not to have a separate entry for Bataille, interesting. . .)

Pertinent recent entries from CTheory.

And the International Journal of Baudrillard Studies..

In A Word

My column in the Christian Century is out in print (I guess they run their website on a week’s delay). Since others have been disappointed that I voice support for the Archbishop of Canterbury, I’ve been fretting over whether my explicit asseveration that my theology has not changed, and that I’m not backing away from my support for the full inclusion of LGBT Anglicans in our sacramental ministry, contradicts my inclination to think that Rowan Williams has more on his mind than just a fancy mitre.

My best shot at a short version of my rationale is this: Anyone can buy a Book of Common Prayer, call him- or herself a priest or a bishop, and claim to share in the Anglican tradition. The claim would be true enough, in some ways (depending on what they did with the BCP and the title) — but for such a claim to carry the kind of public integrity that communicates the fullness of sacral veracity, such a person would need to be in explicit, demonstrable communion with the See of Canterbury.

Now, in real life, there’s a great distance between the extremes of transparent, total collegial communion and utter renunciation. People adhere to various between-points for various reasons (or sentiments), with various degrees of coherence. But exactly because I believe in the soundness of incorporating women and men into the sacramental life of the Anglican Communion, I am reluctant to place “ordination” or “blessing” above the catholic communion of which I speak. Or, in a word, I don’t want for my sisters and brothers a downsized, localized simulation of putative claims to the episcopate or marriage; I support their active participation in a communion that embraces the whole world.
Continue reading “In A Word”

Slacktivist on Charity

No, not “give to those who ask from you” — though he’s in favor of that, too — but the refusal to ascribe one’s opponents’ disagreements to motives less worthy than one’s own. Fred is talking about disagreements over the Iran Conquest, but you could say the same about the Anglican Impasse (as the Century subtitles my column there). Moreover, his essay on “I”-statements helpfully brings to the foreground the irrefutability of such discourse, hence its fundamental divorce from arguments about reality.

If The Lagoon Was Whisky

Pippa and I have been watching with fascinated delight the antics of a solitary diving duck among the innumerable dabbling mallards on Northwestern University’s campus lagoon. We haven’t agreed, however, on the precise identification of our unknown subject.

Diving Duck

The European Red-Crested Pochard bears a certain resemblance to our suspect, but since ours lacks the red bill, and since Evanston is not in Europe, we’re disposed to rule that one out. It could be a Redhead, though ours lacks the distinct black chest-grey torso coloration.Its golden eye might make you think it was a Goldeneye, but Goldeneyes seem to bear the characteristic white patch on their upper neck — but the immature Goldeneye, or perhaps a female, could resemble the perpetrator we’ve apprehended.

Diving Duck

Feedback from keener-eyed, more expert birders would be welcome.

Duck Diving

Continue reading “If The Lagoon Was Whisky”

Mail Clog

My Apple Mail application no longer searches its database for strings I type into the search window. Like a digital Wally, it simply disregard the search strings I enter, or returns a desultory two or three recent messages. I don’t have time, at the moment, to search Apple’s site for answers, but if you’re waiting for email from me — this probably isn’t why I haven’t answered, but it’s a good enough excuse for today.

[Later: Kevin pointed to this nifty command-line trick for speeding Mail up; I had seen it and forgotten about it when the report flashed into view ten days ago. Unfortunately for me, my problem is not that the search is too slow, but that it refuses to search thoroughly altogether. If I search all mailboxes for a relatively simple string — say, “the” — it will find many of the most recent messages, but only sporadic instances of the search term as the pool gets older and older. If I’m looking for a term that appears only in old messages, it’s likely not to show up at all.]