Category Archives: Theology

The Great Emergence

I heard Phyllis Tickle speak this weekend. It was quite a fascinating talk and it gave me a lot to think about. What I’ll be offering here and now is a condensation of a much larger post that I have neither the time nor the brain cycles to write right now. And, part of me wonders if it would be a post per se or a manifesto.

Essentially, she was arguing that every five hundred years or so the Church goes through a reformation or reinvigoration—and that we’re in the middle of one now. She talked about them primarily in terms of the organization of the church writ large. Thus at around 500 we had the Great Transition; the key point was the Council of Chalcedon and the splitting off of the Oriental Orthodox Churches. Next came the Great Schism around 1000 and the break between the Eastern and Western Churches. Then came the Reformation at about 1500 which split the Protestants from the Roman Catholics. She terms what we’re in now as the Great Emergence and points to the Network & Co. as just one of the splits that will occur as this shift gets underway.

So–what rude beast is slouching its way towards Bethlehem to be born? She cited Pannenberg and others as grouping Western Christianity into four major buckets: liturgical, social justice, conservative evangelical, and charismatic and pentecostal. Her understand of the emergence is that it is a remixing of the buckets that takes place in small group gatherings, local non-church contexts and preeminently on and around the Internet. Her description of what she considers Emerging sounded to me like an ecclesial flash mob—a church or body of believers that gathers on no real schedule, tied to no brick ‘n’ mortar institution but gathering by communication and consensus.

When it came right down to it, she was speaking to most of the people in the hall from an apologetic stance. She was speaking to them as outsiders—those who were not and most likely would not be part of this reality. Rather, she was educating them about what she saw coming and was encouraging them to support it and not push out those in the younger generations who would be pioneering it.

In a sense, therefore, I didn’t belong there. Some of what she said at various points rang very true with my experience and I could easily identify myself with just the movement she was talking about. However, other points I’m not so sure about… For me there was one great gaping hole. I have a feeling—given her other works—that she knows what it is and that it will figure in a book she’s working on now. (She didn’t mention one, but I got the strong sense that this lecture was the working out of ideas for a book…)

She’s right about the times of change, but she only alluded once to one major element about why they’re important. Your average Western church-goer in 500 or in 1000 didn’t give two hoots about Oriental Orthodoxy or a split with the Eastern Church. Instead, I see these points involving critical revolutions in a corporate understanding of what it means to live a truly intentional, truly Christian life.

  • 500 begins the real growth of monasticism in the West.
  • 1000 represents the reform and restoration of the primitive ideal among the new monastic movements–the Carthusians and Cistercians and others like them.
  • 1500 in England takes the hours out of the monasteries and cathedrals and restores them to the people in their own tongue.

Monasticism is important because (in my grand over-simplification) it gives us two things. First, it gives us a framework for an intentional, balanced, Christian life centered around the ultimate human purpose or telos—the praise and worship of God. Second, it relentlessly demands that the Christian life is lived in community. Even when you don’t want it to be. Especially when you don’t want it to be. (Re-read the Golden Epistle and consider how the discussion of private possessions works. Possessions aren’t bad because they’re *stuff*—possessions are bad because they give the monk the illusion that if things get too hard/bad he can just pick up and leave…)

And now? Yes, Phyllis Tickle is right about the blending of the buckets. Yes, she’s right about the power of the Internet—but she didn’t express the challenge inherent in it. Like all tools, like all people, the strengths of the Internet are simultaneously its greatest weakness. A society formed by the Internet will likewise participate in its strengths and failings. The Internet offers whole new realms of instant gratification.

  • You don’t like what you know? Learn something new—anything—now.
  • You don’t like what you have? Buy something new—anything—now.
  • You don’t like who you are? Be someone new—anyone—now.

A Christian culture shaped by the Internet will be a perversion of the Gospel unless it is grounded in balance and in simple rhythms. Stability. Obedience. Conversion of life.

The stabilizing element of this emerging thing she describes is a rediscovery of monastic principles. And, like that of the Reformation, it won’t take place behind cloistered walls. Don’t get me wrong—cloisters will and must remain for this to work imho. We in the world will always need a model to point to we just won’t all live there. Rather, it will occur in the midst of normal domestic lives but will give them a shape, a character, a rule, to enable simple intentional Christian life in an increasing driven and frenetic age.

Not everyone, not all Christians will engage in this—and that’s all right. The monastic way has always served as leaven in the lump. Not all are or need be monks or oblates, but those who are still leaven and invigorate the rest of the church. To put a finer point on it, not all need observe a rule or pray the Offices or some similar discipline, but it’s crucial that some do and will. I think that’s where we’re headed and what we’re up to.

There’s so much more I can and want to say about this—but that will have to come later.

Short Celtic Christianity Rant

The Episcopal Cafe has been running a number of things on Pelagius recently on Speaking to the Soul. I have thus far refrained from making any comments on the subject. But today’s passage made me comment.

I’m intrigued by Celtic Christianity; I think it’s a fascinating topic. But so much of the material published as “Celtic Christianity” is a shallow artifice that skims a bit from some sources and grafts it onto a model that owes more to 1970’s Earth spirituality and modern liberal protestant theology than it does anything truly and historically Celtic. Furthermore, it participates in a similar sort of project that Elaine Pagel’s did with the Gnostic Gospels—accuse Christian orthodoxy of being the repressive patriarchal bad guy, take a few isolated items from some texts and spin them off in your own direction that may or may not have any correlation to the historical movement.

One of the favorite ways to do this is to lionize those condemned by orthodoxy. But there’s a problem here easily identified as a lack of clear sources. More often than not, we don’t have the actual texts of those condemned by the Church. As a result, recovering these people and their thought can only happen by looking at what their opponents said. So, to learn about Pelagius, you read Augustine and Jerome where they criticize him. But, if you’re not being rigorous, this is where the potential for all kinds of abuse crops up. The parts that you like, you proclaim genuine; the parts you don’t, you call slander… Furthermore, you indulge in mirror reading—(If the orthodox source argues X, my guy must have taught the exact opposite [anti-X])—but that’s not always (or even often) accurate. What really comes out is little data that provides the opportunity for a great amount of personal pontification safely stuck under an historical label.

I’m saying these are trends I’ve seen–I’m not accusing Newell (the guy being excerpted at the Cafe) of this, because I don’t know him or his work. He may well not be doing this–but I’d want to see his sources and methodologies instead of blanket accusations like the first one raised at today’s post.

Saying that Pelagius was condemned for suggesting that women should read Scripture sounds fishy to me for two reasons: 1) it completely matches modern liberal expectations of the “mean patriarchal orthodox Fathers” and 2) it contradicts actual evidence that we have of those same “mean patriarchal orthodox Fathers”…

To counteract some of the stuff out there, I recommend reading some real Celtic Christianity—which tends to be quite ascetic and apocalyptic in ways that discomfits moderns—and here’s a short taster: The Confession of Patrick, Patrick’s Letter to Coroticus, The Life of St Columba, and The Fifteen Tokens of Doomsday…

Great New(?) Blog

I’ve just discovered a great new(?) blog, East to West that will be of interest to some readers of this site. Its author is a PhD student at the University of Wales who writes on patristics, early medieval matters, and the like with an emphasis both on Anglo-Saxon England and the Eastern Church. His current set of posts is exploring the most natural link between the two which occures in the person of Theodore of Tarsus.

The “New” Hermeneutic

At Mass a bit ago I leaned over to M and asked: “When did this new hermeneutic happen? When did inclusion vs. exclusion become the chief means for interpreting Jesus’ healing miracles–and most other narratives in the Bible–even when it does considerable violence to the text itself?”

I was reminded by this by a number of bloggers’ links to a new review of +Spong’s latest publication where he seems (by their reports) to be quite heavy-handed with this approach. Yes, inclusion is part of the Christian message–but it’s not the whole message. Not by a long shot.

(A Few of) My Issues with the ’79 BCP

Inspired by Christopher’s musings, here are some of my thoughts on the American ’79 BCP. Yes, it is a product of the immediately post-Vatican II liturgical culture. Yes, many of the things that they did were good. Yes, it is time to re-examine their efforts. No, we have not had enough to to “live into” these liturgies and to think critically about them before doing another prayer book revision.

Certainly we can circulate trial liturgies like EOW and have discussions, but in my estimation, the time is not yet ripe for change.

I’ll lift up today three major issues to continue the conversation that Christopher started. I’ll confess up front, most of my thoughts here will revolve around the Office and its materials. There is more to be said about the Mass liturgies and the other occasional liturgies, but I’m not prepared to comment on them at this time. Too, I’m going to try and keep these more to bullet-points than fully-fleshed out arguments. (But some rambling will inevitably occur…)

1. The Psalter. I don’t have any huge substantive issues with the translation or poetry of the psalter that currently appears in the BCP. (I do have some minor ones, like that Ps 51:7 must, must begin with an adversitive conjunction! “But” works; “for” does not!) The problem that I do have has to do with the fact that a) there is only one and b) that it is fundamentally a Hebrew psalter.

In regard to a), the lack of a traditional language psalter means that a Rite I service cannot be prayed consistently from this book. Thus, my Rite I Daily Office must necessarily include a Rite II psalter unless I want to book juggle—which I don’t.This lack of a psalter and therefore the lack of a full traditional language rite underscores the fact that Rite I is set up as a transitional rite—it’s a sop thrown to those who prefer traditional language (and structure–and therefore the theology encoded in that structure) and will be disappearing with the next revision.

In regard to b), I’ll need to jump into some history of Bible translation to justify my point. The Bible of the Early Church was the Septuagint (LXX), the Greek translation of the Old Testament with some additions made in Alexandria in the closing centuries of the time before Christ. The writers of the NT worked with the LXX—sometimes referring to either Hebrew or Aramaic if it better communicated their point—but the grand majority of Scripture citations in the NT are from the LXX. The Greek-speaking Eastern churches continued to use it, as they do to this day.

In the West, various people made translations as they were able. And most weren’t very good. Augustine complained about this; Jerome did something about it. In doing his translation work, though, Jerome made a large and decisive break from Church tradition: he decided to translate according to the Hebraica veritas (what would become the Masoretic text [MT]) rather than the LXX. Augustine didn’t like this decision at all, and correspondence survives where they go around on this issue.

Basically, Augustine argues that the Holy Spirit had been at work in the writing of the LXX and that its differences from the MT were because of the Spirit’s unfolding revelation, not corruption or mistranslation. (Jerome disagreed.) I think Augustine may have been unduly influenced by the Letter of Aristeas (which we now believe to be a marketing ploy to increase use and circulation of the LXX above competing versions), but I think that his logic is important to consider from the standpoint of Christian ecclesiology and pneumatology. That is, if the Spirit works through the Church, if the Church is who the Church is because it has struggled with common texts (both of which I believe), then should we use those texts instead of making up an eclectic text or going back to an earlier “unsullied” version? And thus I support on-going study and use of the textus receptus, the KJV, the Vulgate, the Douay-Rheims, even if I disagree on important points with most of the other people who also support them…

So, wait—what does this have to do with the BCP’s psalter? This: Jerome translated the OT of the Vulgate from the Hebrew. But he did the Psalter three different times and the one that stuck was his translation of the LXX. That’s why the psalm numbering of the LXX and the Vulgate disagree with the MT/KJV/RSV/NRSV/etc. Now–enter the Anglicans. When David Myles Coverdale translated his Bible in 1535, he translated it from the Vulgate. Thus, the Psalter in the first BCP was Coverdale’s translation of the Latin which was Jerome’s translation of the Greek. And we’ve been using it ever since…until now. The Psalter of the ’79 prayer book is a break with an almost 2,000 year Christian tradition of using the LXX Psalter in Christian worship. Western (and Eastern!) liturgy and theology flow from the Psalter as much or more than any other book of Scripture. By changing what we use in worship we are alienating ourselves and our liturgical texts from a classic vocabulary which has been continuously shaping catholic Christians of the British Isles from the beginning.

(Ok, that went on longer than I expected…)

2. Variation in the Offices. The major change between the Office in ’79 Book and its predecessors is the amount of tolerable variation. This occurs most notably in the canticles of Morning Prayer. Classically, we have used the Te Deum, the Benedicite, and the Benedictus. These texts are still present, but are occasional rather than constant. I have a real problem with this because of the formative power of these canticles, especially the Benedictus. The pattern and texture of this canticle has deeply formed Anglicans for centuries. Is there a suitable rationale for watering it down to become one option of several? I’ll give you two for-instances to back me here.

a) Take a look at the General Thanksgiving at the end of the Offices. do you see that phrase “holiness and righteousness” embedded in there? Guess where it’s from… And the more you look for that phrase, the more you’ll find it scattered throughout our prayer book. This is no accident—it’s formation.

b) I was reading a Harry Turtledove sci-fi book a while ago. It was an alternate history work–what if the South had won the Civil War? At the end was a speech from a politician. Turtledove, Jewish–not Anglican, had adapted an actual period speech to fit the circumstances of his novel. I caught my breath when reading it because as it unfolded its form followed, alluded to ,and even directly quoted portions of the Benedictus. It was clear even with Turtledove’s changes that the author had been an Anglican, formed by that text.

3. The Elephant in the Middle of the Liturgy. The greatest failure of the 79 BCP in my estimation is its failure to address the single biggest and most important change to liturgy for centuries. It’s a failure held in common between the Catholic and liturgical Protestant churches; how we address it–whether we address it–will speak volumes for the on-going tale of the liturgy as a vehicle for Christian formation. I speak, of course, of the three-year lectionary.

The heart of the Western one-year lectionary in place up until Vatican II can be traced as far back as our sources will go. One of the earliest surviving lectionaries, the Comes of Murbach, stands as a clear witness to the continuity from the late patristic/early medieval period up until the 1960’s. The Western understanding of the Church Year coalesced around that lectionary. Through centuries, the Church refined the year, its readings, its practices, its ethos, to make it a comprehensive tool for Christian formation. Now–it didn’t teach it well, or make it very accessible to the non-monastic/clerical crowd, but by the end of the early medieval period, this form existed to give incarnate expression to the doctrine of the creeds and the primary religious affections of the Christian life.

Key points of unity which often drew everything together—especially in the festal and fasting seasons–were the collects. That is, language and images from the appointed Gospel or Epistle often make an appearance, helping to bring everything together. I’ll argue that as Anglicanism developed, collects became even more important. If the BCP is the source of our unity and theology, the doctrine and ethos expressed by the collects have a central role in determining how we fill out the theology of the creeds.

But now we have a one-year cycle of collects and a three-year cycle of readings. We are faced with a choice. On one hand, we can let go of the old vision of the unifying power of the liturgical year and choose to move in new directions. On the other, we can adapt the theological and formational logic of the old year to the new system and study and work at introducing a three-year cycle of collects that will once again connect with the Mass lectionary. We have these choices—and I hope and pray that we actually think about them, pray about them, and consciously make a choice one way or the other instead of losing our classical understanding of Christian Time by default.

There’s more to say about these topics—and more topics to raise—but that’s it for now. Thoughts?

Dissertation Related Thought

The early medieval preachers did not consider personal human suffering redemptive; rather, they considered it to be mimetic of the Redeemer. Suffering was not redemptive, but it did create the conditions for the cultivation of virtue as exemplified in Romans 5:3-5: “And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.”

Refusing the Spectrum

Fr. Haller has an interesting post up where he looks at current Anglican issues in terms of realists and idealists. I agree with much that he writes, but I’m not sure I agree with this one… I think I can sense what he’s trying to set up, but it’s not quite there yet. One difficulty with the post is his initial rhetorical decision: to make the liberals the realists and the conservatives the idealists. In my experience, the liberals I know tend to be the idealists, then attempt to impose their ideals on those around them. I’m not saying conservatives don’t do this, I just think that both groups have both idealists and realists in them.

He presents a binary list of options. But, as I read through them, I found myself not only choosing freely from both, but just as frequently wishing for options not offered. Here are a few I offered in my comment–with a few new additions:

eschatology: sacramental
mood: optative
goal: maturity
pedagogy: experiental (i.e., liturgical)
gospel: Matthew
ecclesia: militans
theological school: benedictine
the church: “you are Christ’s body, and individually members of it”
creation story: John 1

I keep hearing about this spectrum but in an important sense…I’m not on it!

I’ve said before, I’m a moderate by default because I don’t fall into the camps described. Furthermore, I don’t think either of two camps should be the goal. To me, Anglicanism is about a set of boundaries defined broadly by the literal sense of the historical creeds and defined more narrowly (but still fairly broadly) by the theology encoded in the prayer book. I don’t want either liberals or conservatives to shoehorn me into their dogmatic statements; I’d much rather they join me in worshiping in the beauty of holiness and in works of mercy.

In short, I’d really like the conversation to move beyond the binary. We need to be challenged by those on all sides. All those who confess Christ crucified have something to teach me about loving and serving him and my neighbor. I need to be challenged by the “liberals” and the “conservatives” and by all those who don’t fit into either of these  for my own growth and correction(…let the righteous smite me in friendly rebuke…)–and I’ll return the favor too.

Confessions

I had a “Duh–obvious” moment this morning–you know, one of those moments where something that you’ve always known bubbles up in a new and interesting way and makes a bunch of connections that you’ve never quite seen before…

My recent thinking about the sacraments–especially Baptism and Eucharist–has been moving very much to their communal nature and the importance of the covenant community both signified and enacted through these rites. What struck me this morning is how much the Confiteor participates in these same ways of ritual sense-making in ways that the more usual Anglican forms of general confession don’t.

For those unfamiliar with the Confiteor, it is a form of general confession that within the old (pre-Vatican II) liturgical paradigm would be used at least three times a day: at Prime, at the prayers at the foot of the altar prior to Mass, and at Compline.

My first point is that in its normative form, it’s a conversation between the principal (priest, abbot, or other) and the congregation that goes beyond the basic dialogue format found in most modern confessions. That is, it establishes communal patterns up front.

Even more than that, though, the text is redolent with community. It functions by naming elements of the community, bringing them to the attention of those gathered, reminding them of the constitution of the assembly that includes the invisible as strongly as the visible. Here’s the text:

First, the person of the greatest dignity (technically known as the Foremost or Prelate, ie. not a Bishop only, but in a Choir of layfolk any Priest who happens to be present, or in a Choir of Priests, the Superior, etc.) says the Confiteor, thus:

I confess to Almighty God, to Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, * to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, brethren, * that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, (he strikes his breast thrice, saying:) through my fault, through my own fault, through my own most grievous fault. * Therefore I beseech Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, * the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and you brethren, * to pray for me to the Lord our God.

And the choir answers with the Absolution, thus:
Almighty God have mercy upon thee, forgive thee thy sins, and bring thee to everlasting life.

To which the Foremost responds:
R. Amen.

After which the Choir says the Confiteor, thus:

I confess to Almighty God, to Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, * to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to thee, Father * that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, (they strike their breasts thrice, saying:) through my fault, through my own fault, through my own most grievous fault. * Therefore I beseech Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, * the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and thee, Father, * to pray for me to the Lord our God.

And the Foremost then says the Absolution, thus:
Almighty God have mercy upon you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to everlasting life.
R. Amen

And then he signs himself with the holy Sign (as does the Choir) as he says:
The Almighty and merciful Lord grant us pardon, † absolution, and remission of our sins.
R. Amen.

In the full form, then, the sequence of the communion of the saints all the way from the Trinity, the angels, down to the local community is not invoked once but four separate times. In doping so, the liturgy grounds our action—here our sinful action—in terms of the whole. In what we have done, we have reflected badly upon all, not just on ourselves. However, then we affirm the care, concern—mercy, really—and intercession of the whole on behalf of the individual.

Compare now the Anglican version, first in the classical form:

 

DEARLY beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry
places to acknowledge and confess our manifold sins and wickedness; and that we
should not dissemble nor cloke them before the face of Almighty God our heavenly
Father; but confess them with an humble, lowly, penitent, and obedient heart; to
the end that we may obtain forgiveness of the same, by his infinite goodness and
mercy. And although we ought at all times humbly to acknowledge our sins before
God; yet ought we most chiefly so to do, when we assemble and meet together to
render thanks for the great benefits that we have received at his hands, to set
forth his most worthy praise, to hear his most holy Word, and to ask those
things which are requisite and necessary, as well for the body as the soul.
Wherefore I pray and beseech you, as many as are here present, to accompany me
with a pure heart and humble voice unto the throne of the heavenly grace, saying
after me:

A general Confession to be said of the whole Congregation
after the Minister, all kneeling.

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

The Absolution or Remission of sins to be pronounced by the
Priest alone, standing: the people still kneeling.

ALMIGHTY God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who
desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he may turn from his
wickedness and live; and hath given power and commandment to his Ministers, to
declare and pronounce to his people, being penitent, the Absolution and
Remission of their sins: He pardoneth and absolveth all them that truly repent
and unfeignedly believe his holy Gospel. Wherefore let us beseech him to grant
us true repentance and his Holy Spirit, that those things may please him which
we do at this present, and that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and
holy; so that at the last we may come to his eternal joy; through Jesus Christ
our Lord.

 

And now a current form:

The Deacon or Celebrant says: Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor.

Silence may be kept.

Minister and People: Most merciful God,we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed,by what we have done,and by what we have left undone.We have not loved you with our whole heart;we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,have mercy on us and forgive us;that we may delight in your will,and walk in your ways,to the glory of your Name. Amen.

The Bishop, when present, or the Priest, stands and says
Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in eternal life. Amen.

While the texts are in the first person plural—“we”—it could just as easily be “I” with no change of meaning or theology… In contrast with the Confiteor, these come across as very, well, individualistic. It’s me and Jesus and while there might be a bunch of other people kneeling around, it’s still pretty much just me and Jesus…

I’ll have to chew on this a bit more to draw out the implications. My initial thought, however, is that the Confiteor seems to do a much better job of placing action, repentance, and forgiveness in view of the whole gathered covenant community, integrating it all much better in the context of the Body of Christ.

(Sources: Confiteor, 1662 MP Confession, and ’79 Eucharistic Confession.)

CWOB Continues at the Cafe

My latest post on CWOB is up at the Episcopal Cafe.

It seems like all I’m posting over there recently is material on CWOB… That certainly wasn’t my original intent. I was brought on to write primarily “spirituality” stuff like my posts on the canticles and psalms and on the place of liturgy in the Anglican life.

After a series of comments on a post there I had conceived a three post series that turned into four–this current item is the next to last. So, one more post then I’m moving on to other topics…