Category Archives: Anglican

Vatican II and the Destruction of the Western Liturgy

Vatican II was the last straw that swept away the elegant construction that was the western liturgical tradition. But not how you think.

It has nothing to do with the vernacular or even with the move away from the Tridentine Mass. It’s about the final destruction of the balance and the mutual relationship between the Mass and Office, the links between the missal and the breviary. Because the classical Office is so little known these days, what happened is not fully known or understood. Here’s my take on things.

The western liturgical tradition is about the whole-body experience of the liturgical year. The seasons teach us and train us in the Christian affections. They do this through the rhythms of the Mass and Office. The way that this formerly worked was intimately connected to the use and application of Scripture. To remind, there were three biblical readings that really shaped things. One was the Gospel at the Mass. This was the primary key of the cycl. These readings were both selected to fit the season and, in turn, actively shaped the season. In connection with this was the Reading, also at Mass. (We’re used to calling this the Epistle because it predominately came from the Pauline or Catholic epistles but fasts had readings appointed from the Prophets.) The third was the reading at the Night Offcice. There, the whole of the Bible, excepting the gospels, were read every year. Again, these were keyed to the seasons. These were the main building blocks but interweavings happened from that point. The various texts of the Mass like the prefaces, collects, and benedictions incorporated elements from the Gospel and the Reading. During the week elements from the Gospel and Reading from the Mass of the Sunday would appear in the propers of the Offices. Bits of the Epistle would show up as Little Chapters; verses from the Gospel would appear as antiphons for the Gospel Canticles at Lauds and Vespers. Thus, the theological messages that grounded the seasons as found in the Sunday Masses were interlaced through the rest of the week in the Offices. The Scriptural content created the lived reality of the seasons as interpreted by the surrounding versicles, hymns, etc.

Hence, I repeat my charge: Vatican II was the last straw that wrecked this. It wasn’t the vernacular that did it in but the three year lectionary… Formerly the Mass and Office were on a common one-year calendar. No longer. The current ’79 BCP shows how the aftershocks effected protestant liturgies: We now have a three-year mass lectionary that is completely disconnected from our two-year office lectionary.

If the motu proprio does come out (yeah, here’s how this is connected to the previous post…) and restores a Tridentine Mass, will it also restore the Tridentine lectionary? Because if not, even the Roman traditionalists will face what we face now, a system wherein the appointed Gospel may have resonances with the rest of the Mass texts maybe once every three years but where it has nothing to do with the Offices.

Ah well–it was an elegant structure but was fundamentally a house of cards… The three-year lectionary seems to be here to stay. I wish we could recover again thesekinds of connections. There are ways but they would be complicated. Essentially, the next revision of theBCP would have to incorporate a three-year cycle of liturgies that wouldcohere with the three-year lectionary. Too, something would have to be done with the Office and with the Office lectionary.

Actually, though, it’s the Offices where something of the old system could be recaptured… Ever read the rubrics after the Offices carefully? Antiphons for the Psalms and the GospelCanticles are permitted, especially those that come from Scripture… You know what I’m thinking? A three-year “antiphonary” that would tie the mass readings into the Offices as antiphons. It’d be another book to juggle but I wonder what it would do to recapture our sense of the liturgical year…

Thoughts on the Latin Mass, Relativism, and the Answer

I’ve been doing some reflecting about the reputedly forth-coming motu proprio. For those out of touch with current Roman doings, the traditionalist blogs have been abuzz with rumors that B16 may release a document (possibly) in the next week that reinstates the Latin Mass and celebrating ad orientem. I greet this news with mixed feelings. I’ll probably split my thoughts into two posts–this and the next.

A few weeks ago I was leading a section of New Testament on ideological criticism, particularly feminist and socio-economic readings. I was in a small group that happened to be populated by several very intelligent conservative evangelicals. They spent about 30 minutes trashing ideological critism as a form of eiegesis–importing one’s own politics into the text. Now–I’m not a huge ideological kind of guy so but at that point one of them said something to this effect: “There’s no reason to try and make everything so political. Care and concern for the poor and women are already in the biblical text. Why do some people feel they have to go looking for it everywhere since it’s already there?” At that point, I could contain myself no longer.  I explined to them that there was a reason why they thought it was already there–because every class they had taken at seminary was so thoroughly imbued wiuth the principles and the benefits of ideological criticisms of one kind or another that they had forgotten that they had read the text any other way. I reminded them that for centuries the guild of privileged white men had read the text without ever finding the women or the over-riding concern for the poor that they took for granted. I pointed out the irony of trashing an interpretive system from which they had already reaped the benefits–especially one of the more vocal critics who was a woman… There seems, to me, to be a certain dishonesty there, rejecting with one hand the very structures that enable your own flourishing.

In the advance of the rumored motu proprio I have read quite a number of folks who are more than ready to jettison the insipid banalities of the English Novus Ordo and to return to the purity and power of the Latin Mass. (By the way, the rumors haven’t quite decided if the “Latin Mass” means the Tridentine ot the Latin Novus Ordo…) Personally, I love the idea of the Latin Mass and certainly wouldn’t mind of our Roman brother brought it back. BUT–I say that with full awareness of three things: 1) I know Latin. No, I don’t have the killer Latin linguistic skills of certain lurkers on this blog but my Latin is certainly good enough to follow the Mass prayerfully without parallel English. I also know I’m in the huge minority of Americans–let alone citizens of the world. 2) I’ve never lived under a Latin Only regime. And from what I can glean, neither have most of the people who seem to be pushing for it the hardest. 3) I honestly don’t have a dog in this hunt. I’m not Roman and my life won’t be changed by this decision whether it ever comes out or not.

From  where I sit, it seems that the most vocal critics are the privileged few who not only have had the ability to study Latin but–even more important–have had the advantage of growing up with the Mass in the vernacular. Even those with sketchy Latin will know the general meaning of what the priest is saying because they’ve grown up hearing it in their own tongue.

Now, my understanding is that this document will not signal a return to the Latin Mass; I don’t think that vernacular Masses will be abolished, only that Latin Masses will be more widely allowed. I fervently hope that this is the case. For as much as Ilove the idea of the Latin Mass, people need to hear the liturgy and be formed by the liturgy in their own mother tongue as well.

When I mentioned  the document to a Roman of my acquaintance, his response was interesting. He asked me if I knew what was driving it. I responded, “Yes, small t-traditionalism. That traditionalism that believes that tradition is defined as ‘how they did things when I was a kid’ or that defines it as ‘they way things used to be before my parents’ generation f’ed everything up.'” He said, “No. That may be why lay groups are for it but the Vatican doesn’t care about that. It’s about a ressurgent clericalism, pure and simple. Putting the power and knowledge–by means of a language known primarily if not exclusively by the priests–back into the hands of the priestly class and drawing the deep distinction again.” His response is shaped by the experiental knowledge of the vicious conflict in the years immediately after Vatican II when his order went through power struggles that were ostensibly about languge and liturgy but really ran much deeper.

I’ve been thinking about his response for  several days now.  When studying history, particularly WWII, I often wonder what could possibly make otherwise sane and intelligent Germans vote for Hitler and the Nazis. Why would people want any form of totalitarian system? The answer that I keep coming back to is that people prefer strong and decisive leadership over chaos. And what wasn’t emphasized enough in the hiostory lessons that I received is the chaos and breakdown of the Weimar Republic: the catastrophic inflation, the breakdown of law and order. A vote for the Nazis was a vote for some kind of stability and structure (despite the downsides that most didn’t really grasp) in the face of overwhelming chaos.

Why would people–people who *aren’t* priests, that is–want to embrace a form of clericalism? Perhaps the same dynamic is at work. In an age of relativism, people looking for truth live in the midst of philosophical chaos. Where and how is big-t Truth to be found–and how will you know it when you find it? The denominations and organizations that seem to be growing the most in America are those who are perfectly happy to give clear-cut answers. Your local Vineyard or Southern Baptist or, yes, Roman church will be more than happy to supply you with a big-t Truth. And I can definitely see the attraction. It would be nice to have clear-cut answers, clean lines and boundaries. As Devo once put it, “Freedom of choice/ Is what you’ve got/Freedom from choice/Is what you want…” Because the alternative is uncertainty.  Especially when it comes to the realm of spiritual truth, how do you know when you really have it right? When it’s something as important as divine realities, who can really afford to be wrong?

But that’s the kicker isn’t it–because someone says they have the Truth, how do you know they do? At some point, we are still stumbling in the dark, adjudicating competing claims as best we can. The choice as I see it, is either selecting one of the groups who claim to have the Answers or affiliate with  one of those that affirms that Answers exist but they’re not going to insist complete conformity.

At some point we who are Christians must ask–what of the Spirit? Does it move in and through people or only in communities–or only in one community? And yes, I have now been talking for a while about the Great Unpleasantness. To my mind, one of the chief virtues in both people and in institutions is humility. A willingness to confess that they do not have all of the answers or, perhaps, that they do have the Answer but not the details. And that is where I prefer to stand. I do have the Answer but, to be completely accurate, that’s not really it. Rather–the Answer has me. Through Baptism. I have been united in a death like his and rise in a resurrection like his. I know that the Answer is Jesus and I take comfort that he has me.

Trial Liturgy: An Anglican Office of the Dead

(One of the reasons I transferred to WordPress is the ability to connect files to posts–this is a test of that functionality…)

Linked here are two files for an Anglican Office of the Dead. First, a Matins of the Dead; second, a Vespers of the Dead.

I have adapted the Roman form as found in the Anglican Breviary using the same kind of manipulations that were used to create our Morning Prayer form the combination of Matins and Lauds (there is no Prime version of the Office of the Dead) and Evening Prayer from Vespers (again–there is no Compline Office of the Dead). (For those unfamiliar with these Offices, see the article from the Catholic Encyclopedia.)

Following the traditional use, these may be read after the regular days Offices 1) on the first Friday of every month where we pray for all the departed, 2) on the day of death–or the day we are notified of someone’s death, 3) again on the day of burial, and 4) on the 3rd, 7th and 30th days after either death or burial. (While a double office is preferable you could, of course, read this instead of the usual offices…)

One of the reasons I post these files is because this disputed theological topic–praying for the dead–is part and parcel of the theological conundrum that the Lutheran Zephyr brought up: the invocation of the saints. I see them as inseperable because they are rooted in a shared Christian theology of death. I’ll write more on this a little later.

I welcome comments on the Offices.

Online Liturgy Roundup

Here are some things that have been brought to my attention recently for one reason or another. bls is the source of a couple of them so thanks to her for those… The presence of an item here doesn’t mean I endorse it, it means I think it’s a good thing to know about. In no particular order, here are some liturgical resources online to be aware of:

Chad Wohler’s Books of Common Prayer. This one’s a no-brainer and I heartily endorse it. If you don’t know about this site, you should–I don’t care what denomination you are. Speaking of, I’d love to see other denominations do something like this with their worship books as well. [server problems today…GC related?]

Anglican Gradual and Sacramentary. This is a pretty massive project. I’m still trying to figure out what I think of this. Essentially, it’s an attempt by Affirming Catholicism folks to construct something like the Anglican Missal based on the American 1979 BCP and related uses (Lesser Feasts & Fasts/Occasional Services/etc.) In my opinion it falls short. Yes, it has extensive propers for a whole lot of days including lections, collects, secrets, postcommunions, etc. but it feels like a tack-on to the ’79 BCP rather than an organic whole. The propers are only a part of an Anglo-Catholic celebration. A larger part is the ceremonial and the prayers prayed privately by the priest. This is lacking that component as the Eucharistic liturgies are essentially from the BCP with only a few of the more standard Roman additions at innocuous points. Another thing that concerns me a bit is that so much of the additional material is from the 1974 Roman material. What’s the rationale for wanting to adopt modern Roman pratice? Anyway, there’s a lot here–some of it may be helpful.

Gregorian Liturgy. This is from a Tridentine Mass group in Bonn. Not for the faint of heart; you’ve got to know your psalm tones if you intend to try any of the Office material because they just give the traditional pattern–the incipit then the last few notes keyed to E U O U A E (from the last phrase of the Gloria Patria: …seculorum. Amen. If your totally hardcore you’ll be able to read their versions in traditional German notation (I can’t…). All in all, the main site is worth checking out even if your German is as rusty as mine. Many of the links go to the traditionalist English language Confraternity of Ss. Peter & Paul like this Breviary link which has parallel Latin and English.

The Anglican Breviary. Speaking of both Breviaries and people who want to be more Roman than the Romans, here’s the Anglican Breviary. The Breviary itself isn’t online, but the instructions for use are worth looking at.

Pointed Gospels. Here are Gospels pointed for singing. They are NRSV and (I believe) follow the BCP’s lectionary. Take the time to read the note; their tone varies a bit from that which is strictly traditional. They wanted theirs to have more musical interest which, frankly, isn’t the point of singing the Gospel. It should be sung to be better heard and understood, not so it can be performed. Annunciation and clarity ought to be paramount above all else. Actually, thy’ve got quite a lot of good links off this page but it has sound–so mute before you go there if you’re in a place where a chanting computer would be odd…

That’s all for now…

Pet Peeve Correction

One of my pet peeves is popping up all over the place with General Convention right around the corner: experience as a criterion for theology. Let’s be real clear on what this is and what this isn’t.

Some Anglicans talk about Hooker’s stool, suggesting that theological reflection is equal parts Scripture, Tradition, and Reason. This is a modern construct. Hooker placed Scripture first as read through Tradition as aided by Reason.

Others talk about Scripture, Tradition, Reason, and Experience. This was labelled the Wesleyan Quadralateral at the Methodist seminary where I did my MDiv. To the best of my understanding–and I skipped all the Theology of Wesley classes–this too is a modern construct approximating something vaguely Wesleyan. My sense of what Wesley meant when he said “experience” is not individual experience but the Church’s collective experience of the Holy Spirit. Again, I’m not enough of a Wesleyan to know what scope of “Church” he meant–local, denominational body, global-in-this-age or the Church as the collected Body of Christ throughout all ages.

Why the distinction? Because if we’re gonna split hairs about stuff, let’s be precise in how we go about it. You cannot invoke Reason–or, actually, Scripture or Tradition–without personal experience being an aspect of it. How we think, perceive, and comprehend is all conditioned by our experience. Whatever we know of Scripture and Tradition is filtered through our experience of it, of the world, and of what we have experienced others teaching us. Furthermore, our knowledge and understanding of Scripture and Tradition is conditioned by Reason.

So let’s just lose the claim that Experience and Reason are being used by one side in this dispute and not the other, shall we? What it is perfectly fair to argue about is the place of Reason and its admixture of personal experience and of Experience especially on the local church and denominational levels.

That clarification having been made, you may return to your regularly scheduled feuds.

Vision for Clergy Education

I. Intro
Indulge me for a bit in a visionary exercise. What could clergy formation look like if we moved out of the residential seminary paradigm? How could we make it more effective? What might it look like? I offer a collection of related thoughts—by no means a fully conceptualized system—that would take a very Anglican/Episcopal approach to the problem. I submit it here for your thoughts and reflections, less for your agreement; more to prime your own thoughts about what the Church needs and will need from her clergy in the coming years and how theological education can provide it. This is my vision—what’s yours—and how can we build on them to reach what’s next (or what could be next)?

I begin from a set of 6 premises that I will upgrade to the state of being axiomatic.
1. Bishops are responsible for the seminarians and clergy of their dioceses.
2. The cathedral is intended to be the house of worship and spiritual center of a diocese.
3. Seminary student debt is a huge problem, especially for younger students.
4. Seminaries are having financial difficulties, lacking the endowment income and denominational support to substantially reduce tuition costs.
5. The Internet and associated distance learning technologies have the capacity to revolutionize how education content is communicated.
6. The best clergy formation is a balance of academic learning, practical experience and liturgical formation.

Has anyone wondered recently what the Church did before seminaries existed? Think about it–the whole seminary model is a relatively recent phenomenon. St Peter didn’t go to one; neither did Benedict, Bede, or Cranmer. That’s not to say they didn’t get educated, it’s just to say that our current model isn’t the only viable one out there.

In the early medieval church, clergy and clergy-to-be were made members of the bishop’s household. There were nine ecclesiastical grades through which a priest-in-training progressed and the canons stipulated that the ninth–priest–could not be attained before the age of 30. (Our transitional diaconate is the last remaining vestige of this system and that is about to go the way of the dodo from what I hear…) As a result, someone wanting to be a priest properly had to spend a fair amount of time hanging around the bishop and the bishop’s court in order to become a priest. Priestly learning came from a combination of academic learning from the cathedral school, observing priests and other ministers in action, and participating in the on-going quotidian life of the cathedral.

My suggestion is a return to the core strategies of this system. The heart of the vision is to intentionally and clearly place mimesis or education through imitation and modeling at the center of the educational process That is, postulants and aspirants would no longer go to a seminary “place” but would, instead, attach themselves to their cathedral and would serve the bishop and diocese directly. Academic learning would still necessarily remain a part of this process, but its place would be different from what it is now; it would be placed in direct relation to its practical and theoretical applications in combination with the rota of the liturgical life of a cathedral. I shall now flesh out this brief outline by focusing on particular aspects of the formation process.

II. Liturgical Formation
My occasional and hardly scientific survey of local cathedrals reveals that most of them serve as little more than over-sized churches, liturgically speaking; the Sunday morning paradigm remains dominant. Location-wise, many of them are located in downtown areas of major metropolitan areas. These days few of the faithful live in the neighborhood—but a certain number work in the neighborhood. I propose that cathedrals return to their classical rota with modifications for our age and situation.

Cathedrals would offer Morning Prayer, a noon Mass, Evening Prayer, and an evening Mass (perhaps the Sunday evening service could be a Solemn Evensong). These services would be timed for the convenience of the business people who live and work in the surrounding environs and would be staffed and run primarily by the aspirants (Using that as a general term to replace “seminarians”; I know it has a technical meaning smaller in scope from this use but…bear with me.). [And yes, I’m using Smokey Mary as a conscious model here with both the selection of services and their timing…] They would serve as the acolytes, the servers, would lead the Offices, and the second and third year aspirants would assist the priests in delivering the homilies at the Masses (perhaps as often as once a week per aspirant). Even if they served no other function in the service, they would be expected to vest and sit in the choir. Naturally, they would also assist at Sunday and Holy Day services.

The liturgical pedagogy would therefore be a matter of observation and kinesthetic repetition. Worshiping day in and day out with a gathered community in the traditional Anglican forms would not only aid their theological, liturgical, and biblical studies–for the discipline of the Offices and Mass bolsters these–but would ingrain within the aspirants their principle role of leading the people of God in the worship of God.

So that they might experience a variety of liturgical styles, second and third year students might attend and/or serve in a variety of parishes within the diocese as directed. Perhaps a semester or year-long Sunday placement in a particular parish in the second year might be beneficial.

III. Diocesan Responsibilities
I propose that Dioceses cut their staff by two-thirds across the board (this would vary a bit based on number of staff and allocations, of course). The aspirants would then fill in on a rotating basis, cycling between various committees or areas of work in increments stretching from months to years depending on interest, aptitude, and growing edges. Guided by experienced personnel, they would assist in all stages of diocesan planning and administration in addition to answering phones and scrubbing toilets.

As a result of their work, they would gain a sense of just what diocesan officials can and cannot accomplish. They would develop a feel for the strengths and weaknesses of their local situation. Too, they would get to know the clergy and parishes across the diocese through daily interaction as they seek to implement diocesan goals.

In addition to diocese level projects, senior students could also work on convocation level projects that would bring aspirants from several neighboring dioceses together to concentrate on regional problems.

While some readers might feel hesitant about unleashing complete newbies on the diocese, I will remind you that the seminarians of today are unlike those of twenty or thirty years ago. Many are second-career people entering from the business world. A blend of energy, new perspectives, and corporate experience might be more of an asset than a liability to the diocese despite the inevitable complications. (Besides, non-profits tend to have a fairly high turnover rate anyway—I don’t know if the same is true for dioceses but I wouldn’t be surprised. If so, this amount of turnover might not be a real change.)

IV. Academic Preparation
The various tasks of administering the diocese, running workshops for clergy, advancing developmental goals, and conducting business period would be the context for the academic studies. Instead of occurring in a university model that privileges ideas and often lacks connection to application, application would take a front seat.

Specific learning projects would take place in service of various practical goals. For instance, a group of aspirants and permanent staff might be charged with developing a curriculum for a major diocesan youth event. The group might spend a period of four months planning in conjunction with a professor of Christian education at the Austin seminary and a professor of biblical studies at General, communicating view the Internet and distance learning tools like video conferencing and such. A variety of research projects grounding various aspects of the project would be collected and hosted in a central data repository like the Rev. Dr. AKMA’s Disseminary. Video files of selected presentations or portions could also be uploaded along with post-event analyses by the planning group, the faculty directors and the participants themselves (for projects where there are participants…). The diocese would pay a fee to the professor’s seminary for the time and expertise given to the project.

In addition to these projects that would grow directly from diocesan needs, certain core academic competencies would still be satisfied through coursework. Biblical studies, languages, and Patristics in particular might well require more traditional classes albeit taught through distance learning, collaborative blogging and other technological strategies to minimize the problem of geography. Of course, students from different diocese could participate in the classes at the same time enabling extra diocesan connections to form.

In addition to specific academic projects, a limited number of more traditional academic courses, CPE would not only continue to be required but would hopefully be expanded. For those not in the business, CPE is short for Clinical Pastoral Education. It consists of a student putting in 300 hours of direct pastoral care usually as a hospital chaplain-in-training with an additional 100 hours of group processing and group didactics with six to eight other students, and one-on-one meetings with the supervisor. This is usually completed during an emotionally grueling full-time summer unit of 3 months; it’s like an extended live-fire drill–but for spiritual care. Currently, one unit is required by the national canons. The usual one unit could be completed in one of the hospitals within the diocesan boundaries, but I would also like to see an additional extended unit (so the 400 hours would be spread over 9 months) in a community or non-traditional setting like a homeless shelter, rehab program, or other non-profit service organization.

V. The Bishop’s Role
Because the aspirants would be in the geographical area, serving in the cathedral, and intimately related with diocesan functions, bishops could and would take a more active role with their aspirants–after all, the aspirants would be important members of the bishop’s staff. In addition to usual work-related meetings and such, Chapter would be reinstated. Twice a week, an hour and a half (or so) would be set aside for the bishop to meet with the aspirants to discuss in community–well, most anything–so that the bishop could get to know and follow the progress of the aspirants.

Ideally, one of these would take place on Monday or Tuesday and would be involve the translation and discussion of the Gospel pericope for the upcoming Sunday. The bishop, the aspirants, and any member of the bishop’s staff who would be preaching the following Sunday will have a jump on the week’s work and such discussions would inevitably touch on a host of areas beyond exegesis–theology, pastoral care, life in general would filter in. The aspirants would see their bishop and senior staff modeling how to read and reflect theologically on our central texts.

Through these meetings, the bishop would learn each of the aspirants, and would guide their development. While the aspirants would receive the inevitable liturgical and the limited required academic program, the bishop would be responsible for assigning aspirants to various committees or projects to round them out or focus them to develop their skills for ministry.

This direction would be supplemented and checked by the diocesan Commission on Ministry. Since the bishop would already be in close contact with the aspirants, the traditional “letter home” on the Ember Days could be replaced by meetings with the Commission on Ministry that would serve as a third-party observer to make sure that aspirants are receiving well-rounded formation.

VI. Seminaries
Under this model, seminaries would still exist but would have an altered role. Professors would still be teaching students on a regular basis in the core curriculum classes and in diocesan projects. The students just would not be residential. If anything, professors might well interact with more students than under the current model, but for shorter lengths of time.

Locating professors together in an academic environment would still be important. Academic work occurs best in an academic environment. The seminaries would maintain libraries and resource centers. The line between libraries, research centers, and even IT would blur, however, as dissemination of data, digitization of rare or unique resources, collection of Internet resources, and the identification of pertinent blog clusters (like bibliobloggers, for example) would be their main role. Again, the Disseminary represents a prototype of what this could look like.

In essence, the physical environment of the seminary would shift to more of a think-tank model than the current residential university model. That having been said, the seminaries may well continue to offer advanced degrees for more or less residential students.

With the decrease of residential students, seminary structures and the use of space would need to be reconsidered. Current student housing could be converted into rental/apartment properties as an additional source of income (I’m thinking in particular of buildings like General’s 422–spacious rooms in a very high-rent area…).

VII. Advantages
There are a variety of advantages to this particular proposal. Returning to the six axioms stated above, three and four are both financial. The financial implications have not been fully drawn out in the above sections, so let me say a few words about them here. Under this model, aspirants would not have to move to a different area of the country, displacing families and disrupting spouse careers. Furthermore, they would not have to pay tuition. The main financial burden would be that they would not be able to engage in full-time work. However, part-time work would still fall within the realm of possibilities, and this model might even be able to be tweaked to encourage bivocational clergy.

According to my current envisioning of this process, the diocese would not pay the aspirants for their work. The savings from diocesan staff costs would be redirected towards the seminaries as payments for project assistance. This would, in turn, offset some of the seminary costs from the loss of tuition dollars. The conversion of current student housing to rental properties would also help to offset this loss.

I’ll just say right now that I haven’t run the numbers on this and have no idea if this financial juggling would work or not.

Imitation of worthy models, the bishop, the senior diocesan staff, and the senior clergy of the diocese encountered throughout the course of work, would be at the forefront of this model. Furthermore, actual work on practical projects would emphasize the administrative skills needed to order ecclesial communities and would help reify and provide an on-the-ground context for academic learning that, in isolation, can seem far removed from parish and diocesan realities.

This model should also help dioceses in their hiring decisions. Clergy would get to know the aspirants, their strengths and weaknesses, because they would have a much higher visibility around the diocese. They would be working in and around the parishes, rather than living several states away.

VIII. Disadvantages
There are a number of disadvantages to this system too–some because it’s more an off-the-cuff envisioning than a full-fleshed out proposal.

One complaint could be that it puts too much emphasis on the bishop. Do we really want a bishop to have so much influence in the formation of future clergy? I, for one, would certainly like to hope so. If we’re concerned about this point, maybe we need to think long and hard about our bishoping process. However, in these days of division and power politics, it is entirely possible that aspirants could find themselves at odds theologically with their bishop. This is one of the reasons why I have suggested that the aspirants meet with the Commission on Ministry so much–they may provide a check against bishops who insist to much on one line of thought–whatever that might be.

An additional check that I thought of including was that all aspirants must have a spiritual director…of a different denomination. And therefore outside of the bishop’s jurisdiction. The spiritual director would report to the Commission on Ministry about the aspirant’s readiness for ministry separately from the bishop. Since the Commission on Ministry, not the bishop, is the body that both admits aspirants to the process and certifies their readiness for ordination, a theologically sensitive (and hopefully diverse) Commission could mitigate the bishop’s power to a degree.

I also realize that I have spoken here as if a diocese only has one bishop. Most don’t, of course. Coadjutors, Suffragans and Retired Bishops could all play a role here too.

Finances are another problem. First, I haven’t run the numbers to see if this scheme would actually work. Second, the aspirants wouldn’t have to displace their families and their families’ jobs nor pay tuition, but living expenses are often the kicker more so than tuition costs. Loans might still be necessary for some–but that requires being in school full-time. Aspirants might have to be more formally associated with a seminary than suggested up to this point.

And seminaries comes to another issue: accreditation. What would be a result of this process? Graduation in three years with an MDiv? I’m not so sure… I doubt that this kind of curriculum would meet accreditation requirements required to certify an MDiv program. The real goal, though, is to produce effective educated clergy, not people with Master’s degrees. That having been said, if a priest educated under this system wanted to go on for doctoral work, how would it be received by PhD programs?

IX. Summary
I’m suggesting a new paradigm quite different from what we have now. Some of the problems that I have noted exist because this paradigm is entrenched. Breaking it free might give rise to more and different options.

As I said at the beginning and throughout–this is an experimental vision. It’s an attempt to kick-start thinking about clergy formation that works outside of the seminary box. Things are going to be changing. The Internet, distance learning, blogging, and technologies that we don’t even have yet have the potential to reconfigure our approach to education. The future will revel itself in its own good time.

What are your thoughts?

The Ex- Church

Apropos the discussion on denominational demographics, I was thinking about another feature of the Episcopal Church… Of the people I know and hang out with–particularly online–I can think of very few cradle Episcopalians. Let’s think…
* I was Lutheran
* M was Presbyterian, then Methodist
* Anastasia was Conservative Evangelical
* The Twins were Methodist (then headed off to Rome after their Anglican stint)
* *Christopher was Pentecost than Catholic
* Gaunilo was Fundamentalist
* Texanglican was–something else (Baptist?)
* I don’t know what bls was raised–not Episcopal I think
Only a few remain as potential cradle Episcopalians (Caelius, Annie, etal.)

I wonder what this means or could mean for us as a church. On one hand, it means that we lack a certain institutional history. We are in danger of not knowing the whole story and of missing important parts of the heritage and tradition. Like…it’s easy for us to think Anglican=sacramental. But…how often did average non-Anglo-Catholic Episcopal churches celebrate Mass on Sundays; wasn’t Morning Prayer the normal Sunday service until this prayer book?

On the other hand we’re more likely to have convert-zeal. This is, of course, most common in Orthodox and Catholic converts, especally since zeal has some un-Episcopalian connotations. It might make you sweat on your seer-sucker suit, for instance–and we can’t have that…

I don’t know. I don’t have anything profound to say about it–I’m just wondering. How is this both a challenge and an opportunity? And if it is an opportunity, what do we do with it?