Priestly Ruminations

So it seems like all I’ve posted for months has been regarding the Anglican fracture… but that’s not the only thing that goes through my head, and I figured it was worth saying something about the other stuff that’s going on in my life…

I’ve been taking this Master of Sacred Theology degree through Emmanuel and St. Chad, in Saskatoon, for the past while - and I’m almost halfway through it. I’m taking it in the non-thesis writing fashion, so I need to take 8 courses overall. I currently have coursework to finish up for two of the four courses that I’ve taken (lol), so I’m almost halfway through it (though really, only a quarter of the way). I was told that if I’m not bad with French, I might be able to switch it up and write a thesis in lieu of two of those eight courses, so I might opt for that (depending on how ‘bad’ I am with French, that is - but this is helped in that much theological jargon is in Greek and Latin anyways (not the vernacular languages), and so doesn’t change from English to French… so all I need to know is the regular French that comes between the theological terms). At any rate, I am enjoying these studies - though it’s going to be difficult to find courses to fill-out the degree now that I live in Calgary (thus, the possibility of switching to the thesis-track).

Further to that, Cindy and I have been living it up, at home! Adriana just celebrated her first birthday party, and we had a number of young couples and babies from church over for that party (Adriana’s the oldest of them by close to six months, I think). My parents are visiting from Thunder Bay, and so they were able to enjoy the party too - and Cindy has posted some pictures on her Facebook. We’ve been seeing lots of family, for that reason (as we always do when there’s family visiting town), and it always makes me wonder… why don’t we do more with Michael and Janna regularly? I mean, we went for lunch with them on Sunday, but we don’t usually do that - it almost seemed like we only had lunch with them on Sunday because Mark and Beth had come down from Olds, so we all went together. We used to have those Sunday lunches at our house that they were all welcome to, but we haven’t gotten back in the habit of doing that since my vacation - it seems so much more convenient to go out for lunch on Sunday (particularly with people from church who we haven’t gotten to meet, yet). We’re down to one car just now, due to an accident in the garage - though the insurance will be having the car taken to a garage to be fixed on the 26th. In the meantime, we’re down to just the Hyundai Accent (2-door), which is pretty small for having a baby seat in the back! I’ve always found it a little cramped, so just a little moreso now. That said, getting the Corolla fixed ($500 deductible) is kind of scary for us right now, too, because we’re in the hole a little for recent dental bills that we’re not sure my medical plan is going to cover (if we understand the plan right, it’s potentially the worst medical plan in existence - or at least, for a growing family!).

All of that said, my six-month solo work at Holy Trinity, Calgary, has come to a close, and Pastor Stephen has returned to work after his sabbatical! It’s just been the first week, now, but it looks like some really exciting things will come out of our ministry partnership. He’s going to have extra time freed up now, to put his efforts into specific ministry endeavours that he is particularly interested in, and so will I. It might be a preliminary statement to make, but it looks like he might be interested in developing our adult discipleship ministry (note: Jim Packer recently made a good argument that the most needed thing in the Christian Church is adult catechesis (which is making people into disciples of Jesus, who understand their faith and live with integrity to it, to sum it up)), and I’m going to be freed up to help develop our youth ministry! I’m pretty excited about that, and Cindy seems to be interested in helping (she really missed the youth work we did in Unity after she stopped because of Adriana). So there are some really exciting things on the horizon for Holy Trinity, I think, and I praise God that He’s put me here, to be a part of it!

Further to my work at the church is my work with the diocese. I was unable to help out with the summer camps, this year, just because of when they were - though I do hope to be involved next year (and in years after that). TEC, however, is coming up soon, and I’ve been mustering all the support for it that I can. I think there are close to a half-dozen from Holy Trinity, that are interested in going; I think there are 4 or so from Unity who should come down (whether they will or not is another matter - but they “should” come!); I think there are over a dozen from the ELCIC congregations in just the north end of Calgary that are being encouraged to attend, as well. So, all in all, it should be a good weekend. There’s a TEC meeting this evening, so I should know more about it shortly!

I think this is what’s going on in my life. Hobby-wise, I’m still playing Dransik (and if you’re not, you should be!); I’ve been working on the development of a Lego table, though this has been put on hold as my Lego room is actually the spare room, and my parents are staying in it right now; haven’t had much time for XBox for a long time; was going to learn C++ programming (teach myself off online tutorials), but decided against it for now; have been considering taking up piano again, though I seem to have too many hobbies right now already (for the time I have).

What was it about the Pharisees that was so problematic? Well, among other things, they ‘taught the rules of man as though they were the statutes of God.’ This is one of the major charges brought up against the group, by Jesus. Yet, they were founded with such good intentions - founded to preserve the cultural distinctiveness of the Jewish people against the strongly hellenizing forces of the world around them; they were founded to preserve the righteousness of God at a time of increased secularization. Somehow over time, however, they had allowed their own teachings to reach the same status as God’s commands, in what they were upholding among the people - and this showed what kind of a group they really were…

In Matthew 15, there is a brief episode described, where the Pharisees are concerned with the purity or profanity of eating food with or without washing one’s hands first. Jesus brings the above charge against them. In fact, He charges them (in that) of being another kind of plant, than those planted by His Father. Wow! That’s a devastating charge to level against any group or organization, and should never be made lightly. Jesus says, “All plants which My Heavenly Father planted not, He will uproot.” And our minds are drawn to His parable of the weeds in the field, which were sown by the enemy as the farmer slept (after he had sown his good seed). Jesus is, in effect, saying that the Pharisees, as an institution in ancient Israel, were sown by the Father’s enemy. No, it couldn’t be told at first - before they had mixed their own instructions into the body of laws that they enforced. But once the real fruit of the Pharisaical enterprise was made evident, then it became clear that from the start they had not been on the right track.

The Pharisees, then, were not the true children of Judaism (Jesus is saying). They are, in this blog’s terms, the cuckoo bird’s children. They had usurped power and authority in that nation, power and authority that were not rightly theirs - and they had taken all the nourishment intended for the true children for themselves.

Again… who would you say are the true children of Anglicanism? There seem to be two facets of Anglicanism that are called upon, by different groups in the church - the one claims the institutional relationship to Anglicanism, while the other claims the faith relationship to Anglicanism (in broad terms, that is) - or, at least, they each tend to claim that the other is not within the bounds of the institutional inheritance of Anglicanism, or the bounds of the faith inheritance of Anglicanism (which charges seem to carry with them the import of the group making them considering itself to be within those bounds that the other has fallen outside of).

Now, I have reason to believe that the ‘children of Anglicanism’ who claim that the others are outside of the bounds of Anglican faith (really, they claim those to be outside the bounds of Christian faith) are true children of Anglicanism. Historically, there have been multiple occasions when Anglicans who shared the same kind of faith as these ones migrated from the Anglican Church. I am thinking, particularly (though not exclusively), of the Methodist movement. Yet, in spite of the times when people of this kind of faith have been forced out, or have intentionally moved themselves out, of the Anglican Church, there are still people of this faith persuasion present in the church - which leads me to conclude that the Anglican Church breeds this kind of faith in its members. Thus, these are true children of Anglicanism.

Does that also lead me to believe that the other, the institutional children of Anglicanism, are illegitimate children? No. The difficulty lies in this: the Anglican Church has always tried to balance a Roman Catholic mode of structure and worship with a protestant reformed theology. Somehow, both the clearly protestant evangelical faith (’evangelical’ being equivalent to ‘reformed’ in this case, and being the preferred term, by the reformers themselves) and the episcopal institutional lay-out are Anglican, and Anglican cannot be Anglican without either. So, the fact that I see those concerned with doctrinal correctness and Scripture (primarily) as true children of Anglicanism does not lead me to think the others as illegitimate children of her.

That said, Jesus doesn’t look at these kinds of things in levelling His charge against the Pharisees. Consider the parable of the weeds in the field - they were known to the servants of the master by the fruit they were bringing forth. Jesus didn’t look at the founding of the Pharisees (which seems to have been done with the best of intentions, and to really have grown out of the Judaist expression of its day quite legitimately), but at the fruit they were bringing forth, which was incompatible with either their own founding intentions, and with God’s intentions for the people who were known by His Name.

So, what do we make of this? Insomuch as those ‘institutional’ children of Anglicanism are bringing forth fruit that is not in keeping with repentance of sin (one of Jesus’ charges to His would-be followers), and that is not in keeping with God’s intentions for His people, they are illegitimate children - they are cuckoos - they are ‘plants which My Heavenly Father planted not,’ and they will be uprooted. At the same time, however, the same falls to the other group, the ‘faith’ children of Anglicanism. Insomuch as these are bringing forth the fruit of religiosity and legalism, fruit that is not in keeping with God’s intentions for His people, they are illegitimate children - they are the cuckoos. The fate of the plants not planted by the Father is that He will uproot them.

There is more to be said on this, I suppose, but I won’t say it now, as I need to think on it some more (as I probably needed to on what I’ve already written). But consider that Jesus’ instructions to His followers, regarding the Pharisees, is to “Leave them!” What does it really mean to leave them? For instance, if groups in our church are really convinced of the ‘wrong-ness’ of the other group (whichever group that might mean), are they charged by Jesus to “Leave them!” And what does it mean to truly “Leave them!” if both could be understood as legitimate (in some way) children of Anglicanism? Does it mean leaving and finding a way to still be a part of Anglicanism (as some have done?), or is that a mistake in itself?

Well, enough rambling - probably only half of what I’ve written makes sense to anyone beyond myself, and probably less than half of that has any real element of truth in it. My understanding of church history, etc. is limited, afterall.

I recently heard someone say that they felt that Rowan Williams, current Archbishop of Canterbury, was perhaps the finest Anglican scholar in the world, and certainly the finest scholar to be Archbishop of Canterbury since Anselm. Now, I’m not here to argue that point - I’m most certainly below +++Rowan in the church hierarchy, and I do know my place (so I would not argue against it, even if I felt I could), but there are just so many Anglican scholars that I’m unfamiliar with, who I would have to judge inferior to him if I were intent on agreeing with the statement. Thus, I have no real opinion on the statement itself - it could be true, it could be false - I wouldn’t know either way.

That said, this person’s stated reason for believing +++Rowan to be in such a position was that, moreso than any other with which he was familiar, the Archbishop has put real energy and effort into understanding both sides of the current Anglican debate, and to meet both sides where they are at. Now, I’m not going to argue this point, either. I have certainly seen +++Rowan making this effort and so I will not deny that he has; yet, there are also so many others who may be making a similar effort, and I would not desire to short-change their efforts by ranking who had reached the greatest success in this endeavour. Probably, however, the good Archbishop is the highest profile individual to making an honest effort in this, and for this very reason I quoted him in my paper on Anglican Unity, which I wrote over a year ago.

All of that said, this person then continued by stating that he felt that +++Rowan was doing an excellent job in the face of the current Anglican situation, which he characterized as being ‘one group of people who are acting deplorably, and another group of people who are doing less than they could.’ Now, here’s what strikes me as odd about all of this…

If you were to commend someone for having a certain attitude towards something, wouldn’t you, too, strive to hold that commendable attitude? Wouldn’t that lead a person to characterize the situation as, at least: ‘two groups of people who are acting deplorably, and two groups of people who are doing less than they could’? Wouldn’t that be the conclusion of a balanced view that understood both sides of the debate?

Well, that’s what I think, anyways… but as I’ve said before - who am I?

Anglican ‘crisis’ - or is it better called ‘debate,’ or ’struggle’? - has spawned lots of boating stories. The Anglican Church of Canada has been likened to an ocean liner (often along the lines of the Titanic, which a person is best to abandon on a lifeboat rather than sink with). The Anglican Church of Canada is painted as a sinking ship by the Canonic (both Charismatic and Empiric Canonics), and the route to take is the one that leads to lifeboats (presumably, these lifeboats will all eventually raft together and sail on as one). The iceberg that this ocean liner has hit is, above the water, the blessing and acceptance of homosexual activity in the church - neither requiring nor asking repentance from this behaviour, and even calling it holy. Under the water, however, this dire iceberg is much larger (as icebergs are), and Church doctrine, human nature, sin, and salvation (among others). What do you do when you find yourself on a ship that’s sinking? Presumably, abandon ship.

So, here’s another thought - because there was a point where Jesus was out on the lake with His disciples, and they were in a boat, and there was a storm (not an iceberg) that was sinking their ship - and they didn’t abandon ship (Matthew 8:23-27). They approached Jesus, who was sleeping in the boat at the time, and they woke Him, and they cried out to Him for help, and He calmed the winds and waves. His cutting words to them, at this episode: “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” (TNIV). The response of the disciples, in the face of their boat sinking, is to cry out to Jesus for help. Is this a good response? It certainly gets the results that they’re seeking - and note that Jesus doesn’t upbraid them for asking Him to save them, but for being so afraid. The way they deal with the situation is only ‘wrong’ insomuch as they fear it - giving in to fear, in this case, seems to mean not trusting that it can be dealt with by the Lord.

The difference between this story and the current Anglican situation is this, in the minds of those Canonics mentioned previously: They have cried out to Jesus, and to no avail - which gives the definite impression, to them, that He isn’t in the boat in the first place. They can’t wake Him to their sinking crisis, because He isn’t present with that ship. It is from this context that they feel they must abandon ship - and if Christ isn’t on the ship, as they believe, then there really is no reason to stay.

Yet, there is another situation where the disciples are faced with a storm - where the wind and waves are against them and they are faced with the possibility of sinking - and where Jesus is not in the boat with them - and this should, maybe, provide some kind of framework to work from, if the situation is what these Canonics believe it is. This is found in Matthew 14:22-33. This time, the disciples do not cry out to Jesus as they struggle. Rather, they endure as best they can - and when Jesus does appear on the scene they do cry out: not for Him to save them, but because they’re afraid of Him as they mistaken Him for a ghost (as He walks atop the water). Peter ends up stepping out of the boat, to go to Him on the water, and when he gets close he begins to sink as he notices the storm that rages about him. Jesus saves His friend, and returns to the boat with him. As He steps into the boat, from the sea, the wind dies and the water is calm - and the disciples recognize, in this, that He is the Son of God (which title they don’t yet fully understand the meaning of).

Now, there’s a strong tradition for understanding this narrative unit in other terms than just a boat and a storm. The Church Fathers saw, in this story, the Church herself - cast on the waves of temptation and trial, enduring the onslaught as she waited for her Saviour to return. In that spirit, what would it mean to apply this picture to the Anglican Church of today, and specifically to this province of it? If it is true, that the Anglican Church of Canada is a sinking ship - battered by the contrary winds and waves of secular society and popular opinion, slowly filling up with the water of heresy - then what would this story have to teach us about faithful response?

I don’t think that this story suggests that the proper response is to get out of the boat, in a new boat. The problem with new boats is that they tend to have a similar shape to the old boat - that is, institutions all tend to be very ‘institutional,’ and that may be one of those cases where if you’re in for a penny, you’re in for a… loonie? It seems, infact, that building new boats could even be an unfaithful response, in the sense of ‘we’ll need something to keep us afloat on this turbulent sea!’ Rather, Peter was faithful as he stepped out onto the water; no boat; no hope for keeping above water; only Jesus before his eyes. As the Audio Adrenaline song observed, “If I keep my eyes on Jesus, I can walk on water.” In fact, it was when Peter looked at all of the elements that had been working against the boat that he was deemed unfaithful by the Lord, and he began to sink in the water. What might that say about people hopping into lifeboats, and shouting back at everyone else still on the ship?

Perhaps the lesson, then, is this: the only hope for this boat, the Anglican Church of Canada, if it is (indeed) in as dire straits as it has been charged to be (by many others), is for the faithful to get out of the boat - not into a new or separate boat, but to walk out on the sea, keeping Jesus ever before them, and for Him to bring them back to the boat Himself. It is as Jesus stepped onto the boat that the winds and waves ceased; it is as Jesus stepped onto the boat that the other disciples - none of whom had had the faith to step out onto the sea as Peter did - recognized Him as God’s Son; it is as Jesus stepped onto the boat that they began to understand who He was, and what that meant for them.

Well, that’s my ramblings about it, anyway.

A commonly thrown around set of words, these days, in the Anglican world. Generally, they are put in the order of ‘Unity in Diversity.’ Now, there are probably some contexts in which this is aptly applied. For instance, the Anglican Church is a worldwide communion. It crosses many cultural and economic boundaries. It crosses many social structures. The Anglican Church is made up of a very diverse group of people. If it is said that we Anglicans have always had unity in diversity, and it is referring to this kind of diversity, then the statement is aptly applied. There are, however, probably some contexts where this is not aptly applied.

For instance, we could imagine that this comparison would be applied along the lines of theological beliefs. Now, as a church (a religious body) we should be concerned with people’s theological beliefs. Specifically, as a Christian church, we should be concerned that people’s theological beliefs match up with those of Christendom (if not when they come in, then when they go out; if not as babies in the faith, then as they mature; if not when they begin proselytization, then when they are leaders). If we really want people to care about the theology that they adhere to, then we’re going to have to deal with the side-effect of that: they’re going to care about what kind of theology the church institution adheres to; they’re going to care about what kind of theology their fellow Anglicans adhere to. In this case, then, can there be unity in diversity?

I would hypothesize… no. No, because one would assume that if people are really holding the theology that they claim to adhere to, then they must believe that theology formulated in that way is true - which could mean that they would see other theological systems as false, or could mean that they must see theology in a subjective light (it is true for me, but the same system of theology might not be true for you) - though then it might also be argued that the theology they adhere to is not, properly speaking, theology (not about theos), but about them (the ’subject’ in ’subjective truth’). Somehow there seems to be lack of conviction about one’s own theological stance, about one’s own belief in God being a certain One, if it allows that others might also be right about it all, even if their position is vastly different than the first person’s. It just seems to me that if theology is the word about God, and God is God (which means the same for everyone, just like I’m Jonathan regardless of who I’m with - and there are certain qualities that it is right to say that I possess, and certain qualities that it is wrong to say I possess), then we can’t have theology every way that people may like it. Theology depends on God - not on man (though the obvious trouble of it being explained through the language of man does present itself).

In the case of theology, it would seem that the proper use of these terms (when used together) is that we can allow for diversity when there is unity (Diversity in Unity), not the other way around - “there is unity in diversity.” The context for theological diversity can only be, to my mind, in theological unity. To try to have it the other way around means asking people to stop holding convictions - and as a Christian organization, is that really where we want to go?

Well, this is how I see it, anyway. I’m willing to admit that just because I don’t understand something, that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make sense, though!

So for the past few weeks I’ve been mulling over an illustration that was shared with me by my mother, and which had been shared with her by a friend. No, neither of them is the cuckoo - but maybe someone is… that’s for you to decide, I guess. The illustration is this: there are some cuckoo birds who do not build their own nests - instead, they lay their eggs in the nests of other birds, and when their chicks are born they are stronger than the other chicks (and larger), and basically take all the food that the mother bird brings to the nest, and push the other chicks out of the nest. They’re usurpers. The context for this illustration: current struggle and debate in the Anglican Church, particularly in the West.

So I’ve been considering this for as long as I have because it seems to me that it is not as clear-cut as might be preferred. That is, both sides in the current Anglican strife claim that they are the legitimate ‘chicks’ of this ‘nest,’ and that in some way the others are not. Let me explain.

What we might call the ‘Social Concern’ in the church claims to be a legitimate child of Anglicanism. It is, to some degree, in that those who are a part of it are people who received whatever semblance of Christian faith that they have from the Anglican Church. It maintains the episcopal structure of the church; it maintains some form of worship that has its roots in Anglican liturgical expression; it is often made up of people from upper-class English society; it has a high view of scholarship. All of these qualities, and more, make this Social Concern appear to be a legitimate chick of this nest.

On the other hand, what we might call the ‘Evangelical Concern’ in the church claims to be a legitimate child of Anglicanism, and it is, to some degree - in that those who are a part of it are people who received whatever semblance of Christian faith that they have from the Anglican Church. It maintains the episcopal structure; it maintains worship that has its roots in Anglican liturgical expression; it is often made of people from upper-class English society; it has a high view of scholarship. All of these qualities, and more, make this Evangelical Concern appear to be a legitimate chick of this nest.

Yet, how these qualities play out is very different (between the two). One would emphasize the collegiality of episcopal representatives within a national body (thus, emphasizing the autonomy of individual Provinces); the other would emphasize that same factor as it crosses national boundaries (thus, emphasizing the interdependence of the Provinces). Either, however, would be willing to emphasize the other (I suspect) if it would suit their purposes. This is just an example of the differences in how these factors are utilized by the different ‘concerns’ in the church. It seems to me, however, that the more Anglican thing to do - which neither of them is doing - is to emphasize both provincial independence and interdependence (in which case, neither concern would be a truly legitimate child of Anglicanism). Sound confusing? Welcome to my world! There are further arguments that can be made, and I do believe that one of the two does come out looking more like the legitimate child than the other, and that that other does come out looking more like a cuckoo than the first. These arguments might not be the point, though. The point might just be simply this: as far as Anglicanism is only a valid religious expression inasmuch as it is an expression of Christianity, children of Anglicanism are only legitimate children thereof inasmuch as they are Christians (which would at least require belief in the historic Christian creeds, decided and agreed upon at the great ecumenical councils (at a time when ‘ecumenical’ referred to being conciliatory, rather than opening conversation between people who otherwise did not converse)).

If you never read my paper, you might want to - though I’m becoming increasingly convinced that it doesn’t present things in as accessible a manner as it should. Let me offer this observation, though. Inasmuch as both concerns are the result of drifting away from what was once the focal point of Anglicanism, neither is ‘Anglican’ in the original sense of the word, yet both are ‘legitimate’ children of it, yet they are two different churches - with different focuses for their faith. As far as my paper goes, one of the two sides could be seen as the legitimate institutional child of Anglicanism, and the other as the legitimate faith child of Anglicanism, and I don’t think I need to get into the arguments made in Hebrews about how preferable it is to be the child of faith. Can the two get along, because they’re from the same family? I guess that would require playing fair - and maybe the one thing that’s clear about the current Anglican situation is that this church could be so beautiful, and such a beacon of hope for the world, and it’s been reduced to what it is now (in the West) - and there’s nothing fair about that.

So I’ve been involved with TEC ever since I got back to the Diocese of Calgary - and the movement had kind of run aground. There’s a group of us who have been working to resurrect the movement, though. It seems that I’m the Ministry Team leader for the next weekend retreat, which should be this October, so I tried to call the CORE together for a meeting, to choose the rest of the team for the weekend (afterall, if we’re expecting to have participants’ applications in near the beginning of September, we need to have a team to actually work the weekend that they’re applying for!). I was the only one who showed up!

So, rising out of that meeting last night, it looks like we’ll be able to have some portion of the Holy Trinity worship band play at the Thanksgiving weekend event, and it looks like we might consider changing the focus of TEC slightly. TEC has always, in these parts, been a retreat for people aged 16-21. The problem with that is that 16-18 year olds think 19-21 year olds are cool, and 19-21 year olds are done high school and getting on with life, and aren’t particularly interested in spending a weekend with a bunch of high school students. The way around this? Decide who TEC is for.

Local churches generally, if they have any number of properly aged members, offer youth groups to young people until they finish high school, and Sunday School for younger children; the diocese offers a summer camping program that facilitates camps for young people aged up to 15 or 16; so it seems like TEC doesn’t need to be another diocesan program that is just offered to young people who are already being offered something by their parish (or who should be, if they aren’t). So why not make TEC a young adult ministry - 19-25? This would cover young adults who are in university/college, and who are just starting out in their careers… not a bad idea, eh?

Well, I spoke about this possibility with the chair of the TEC steering committee, and he thought it was a good idea. For this October, we’ll continue with our regular age requirements, and after that we’ll potentially change to the older set.

Meanwhile, this morning I’m meeting with a pastor from a church who claims to have about 15 young people he’d like to send this October. We need to get a team together!

I was among the group of people who watched The Dark Knight (the new Batman movie) this morning at midnight. It was a decent movie, though I won’t reveal any of the storyline here. What it did, though, was get me thinking about the difference between what people deserve, and what they need (yes, such a distinction is made in the movie - but that’s all I’m going to say about that).

As is a common theme on this blog, I’m thinking in particular of the Anglican Church (in general, not simply the Canadian manifestation of that body). With all of the turmoil of the Communion right now, it seems that our church could use a saviour - and yes, I do recognize the sad state of affairs when a Christian group is in need of a saviour, as that is traditionally Jesus’ job. The unfortunate reality is that there is much disagreement about Jesus in the Anglican world. One senior archbishop has recently been quoted as saying that whether or not Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and Life is currently under debate in the Anglican Church (as a whole). When there are groups who would hold vehemently to that statement (which is a claim of uniqueness for Jesus and Christian faith), and other groups who are pleased to academically challenge such statements, Jesus Himself becomes the matter of contention, rather than the focal point of union. To quote a famous writer, the message of Jesus becomes a stumbling block to some, foolishness to others, and the power of God to others.

So, the question at hand is this: what does the Anglican Church deserve? As far as it is a fallible organization, a human institution, it would seem that the Anglican Church doesn’t deserve much - just as any other institution. People make mistakes, and people in groups make big mistakes. The idea of karma doesn’t hold up in most situations (regardless of how many Westerners would love it to): no amount of ‘doing good’ makes up for wrongs that have been done. People were still hurt in varying ways through those wrongs, and while good deeds might bring forgiveness for an institution - forgiveness does not mean that it’s ok that those wrongs were committed; forgiveness means that they aren’t being held against the group. So, as a human institution (as with all human institutions), it would seem that the Anglican Church has lots of answering to do - and doesn’t deserve anything good.

That said, inasmuch as the Anglican Church is a branch of the Christian Church (now speaking of the Body of Christ, which transcends space and time and denominational affiliations), it deserves all of God’s blessings for His people.

Yet, what does this church need? I would suggest that it needs someone (or some group) who can engage the challenges and musings of the Anglican academic, while at the same time holding to the convictions of the vast majority of Christians in the Christian Church; someone with the integrity to step down and give up everything they’d accomplished if they found themselves disagreeing with these tenets of the Christian faith, after their engagement of the intellectual challenges posed - afterall, if Jesus can’t stand up to the questions being posed, then why would anyone want to be identified as His follower (”Christ”ian)? Someone (or some group) who can inspire hope for the future into the hearts of Anglicans; who can point to a unified future, devoid of petty squabbles and doctrinal ambiguity. This is potentially what this church needs, though it seems to me that only one person in history has met this job description, and He has become a point of contention for modern Anglicans.

It seems to me that there is a lot of talk of people following His direction - all claiming that they are. Yet it also seems to me that the Jesus who said that ‘a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand,’ would not be leading two groups in such opposed directions if He desired their continuance. This might lead us to one of two conclusions, then: either the time for this human institution is up, and Jesus is leading it to strife to end it (in which case those who are members of His Body will continue as members of it, though under another denominational heading), or one (or more) of the groups claiming to be following His lead is mistaken in their assessment of who they’re following. Both conclusions seem a little grim, so perhaps there is a third: perhaps He is leading the Anglican Church through a time of turmoil so that it can be refocused for the future, and built up strong again - perhaps this is the harvest, to quote a certain parable for this next Sunday, where the false grain is separated from the wheat?

Perhaps it could all be looked at from a different perspective, though. I mean, the Anglican Church has a huge potential - both for the larger Body of Christ (institutionally it gets along well with the Eastern Orthodox Church, and it bridges the gap between the Roman Catholic Church and the rest of Protestantism; which could make it the greatest hope for the unity of all Christians, of all institutiions), and simply in itself (a wonderful legacy of Scripture, Tradition, and Reason; an unmatched liturgy; a breadth in understanding that allows for diversity in unity). Perhaps all of this makes the Anglican Church deserving of a great deal - though I suspect that when we start ignoring the impact of our past mistakes, and how they diminish our potential ‘present glory,’ we’re sentencing ourselves to failure in growing beyond those things. But then, that’s just what I think - and who am I?

In Matthew 13:1-9, Jesus tells ‘The Parable of the Sower.’ It should maybe be called ‘The Parable of the Soil,’ since He spends more time talking about the soil than He does about the sower, and the explanation He gives of the parable (Matthew 13:18-23) focuses on the soil. The end result of the parable is that different people’s hearts are like different kinds of soil. The unspoken, yet pointed, question that arises from the text is just this: What kind of soil is God’s Word trying to grow in, in you?

Maybe an odd question, yes. I mean, we all know something of gardening or farming (if you’ve never done it, you’ve at least heard of it - I suspect). If the soil has rocks in it, then it is the farmer’s responsibility to clear it; if the soil has weeds (thorns/thistles) growing in it, then it is the farmer’s responsibility to pull them up; if the soil is hard and packed down from people walking on it, then it is the farmer’s responsibility to turn the soil and loosen it up. So why would the question about what kind of soil your heart offers God’s Word to grow in be posed to you? Why wouldn’t you ask the farmer (God, in this case) what kind of soil He’s given His Word to grow in?

I think that it comes down to surrender, if it had to be summed up in one word. God is the farmer (the Sower who goes out to sow). This is one of the great truths about Christian faith: generally, religions are said to be man-made systems of striving after the divine; yet Christianity (among a handful of others) claims to be revealed to humans by God Himself. The Sower goes out to sow: God does not hold His Word tight, and only divide it out to those few people who attain to such heights of understanding that they ‘deserve’ to know it. God shares His Word with people; God reveals Himself to us in creation, and (most importantly) through His Son, Jesus. So God is the farmer. This makes those human hearts (or those parts of human hearts) that are slow to understand (the beaten path), or that are easily swayed by the trends around them (the rocky soil), or that are often distracted by other concerns (the thorny soil) - it makes those hearts that have qualities that are hindrances to the establishment and reign of God’s Kingdom (through His Word) the responsibility of God.

The question, then, that might be posed is - what is God doing in a heart, to work and turn the soil? The answer is that God will only work soil that is offered to Him. Is your heart hard? Is your heart easily turned? Is your heart easily distracted? Offer it to Him! Offer it to Him unreservedly! What kind of soil is the seed of God’s Word trying to grow in, in you? Is it less than the good soil, in the parable? How can it become a better kind of soil? How can your heart become more receptive to God’s Word than it already is? Seek the Lord in prayer, and offer your heart to Him as unreservedly as you can! As He works with what you are able to give Him, you’ll find a double blessing: you’ll be more open to His guidance for your life, and you’ll be able to offer Him more of yourself - which will produce more of these! Praise the Lord!

   So, I guess I’m still thinking about that Anglican Covenant that’s being developed.  It seems to me to be in line with what the church needs - referring back to my paper on Anglican Unity, it is an entropic base that would bridge the gap between charismatic canonics and gnostic empirics (bridge the gap where most Anglicans find themselves, I suspect).  Remember that the entropic basis of unity is not a unity of doctrine (primarily), or a unity of communal thought - but a unity of duty, of obligation to one another.  I had suggested (in the aforementioned paper) that one way to rebuild this kind of unity would be through the use of the liturgy - but as I think on this Covenant proposal more, I think that it is another.

   I guess I still have questions about the Covenant itself - like, when it was unspoken people were perceived to have broken it, so when it’s on paper what kind of safeguards will there be to ensure that those who have ’signed on’ will remain true to their obligations (contained therein)?  Further, the current draft seems to hold all arguments that have been made by all people - concerning what being a part of the Anglican Communion means.  Yet it is the diversity of these understandings that has gotten us into the situation we’re in.  Certainly, no-one has yet acted against their understanding of what their duties and obligations to the Communion were/are.  What do we do when some claim to be following the Covenant, and others claim they aren’t, but both arguments are being drawn from the same document - because it has tried to extend its breadth too far?  Maybe that’s just a red-herring, and such a situation would never come up.  Is it pessimistic to think that it undoubtedly would come up, or just realistic?

   What I’m really getting at is this: it seems like the Covenant will force member Provinces to recognize, alongside their traditional understanding of the Communion, the views of the other groups in the church.  So for Provinces who have traditionally viewed their commitments to the Communion from the primary starting-point of their own province’s independence and autonomy, they will have to incorporate a larger understanding and appreciation for the interdependence of the Provinces, and their responsibility to one another.  Likewise, for those Provinces who have traditionally viewed their commitments to the Communion from the primary starting-point of the interdependence of the provinces, and their responsibility to one another, they will have to incorporate a larger understanding and appreciation of the independence and autonomy of individual Provinces to govern themselves by their own synods.  Sounds like everybody’s gonna agree, right?

   But I wonder if those ‘traditional’ operational models won’t win out in their own provinces in the end.  I mean, people are creatures of habit - we’re conditioned to be.  If I’m used to being independent, it takes a long time to learn to work in an interdependent relationship - and it can really cause me (the former-independent-minded-party) to feel as though I’m making all kinds of concessions to the larger group that should never have had to make.  Similarly, if I am used to thinking in terms of interdependence, it can take a long time to learn to concede a level of independence to those that I have always felt should be more ‘group’ minded - it can really cause me (the interdependently-minded-party) to feel as though I’m compromising on all kinds of things to others, so that they can exercise an independence that I don’t really (yet) believe that they should have.  Granted, the other side of the coin is that the former-independents gain the strength of the group - and the former-interdependents gain the freedom to self-assert - yet these weren’t the things they were looking for (not the things that they were deeply valuing), and so I don’t know how valued these can become to them.

   At any rate, it doesn’t seem like it’s a new covenant at all unless it can get under people’s skin - and change their thinking (and quick!).  Otherwise it’s just more of the same, though it’s stated formally rather than just understood in people’s minds.  But it might be a good start to rebuilding an entropic basis for Anglican Unity, and that might be a good thing!