What Would Mary Do?

Most of you have probably seen the clever wrist band made famous by innumerable youth groups that has WWJD on them. This stands for “What Would Jesus Do?” The point, as used by youth leaders all over the country, is to get teenagers to think what Jesus would do if faced with their circumstances and situations.

While I think this is clever, I have never really warmed to the slogan. It is not that I cannot think of what Jesus would do in many situations. My problem is that I can. For example, I attend a funeral, WWJD? He would raise the dead. Or, I visit a sick person, WWJD? He would heal them. Or, I am faced with evil, WWJD? He would drive it out. Nor is my problem that I do not believe that some Christians are called upon to do such things. I do. I just do not think his behavior is normative for us as believers. (My wife does tell me that I often confuse my job description with that of the Messiah, but that is a dysfunctional issue, not one of faith.) No, my issue is that Jesus did many things that I cannot do. I think the better wrist band would be WWMD, What Would Mary Do? On this eve of the Annunciation, let me say why.

Mary is the prime example in scripture of God’s faithful servant. When the Angel announced to her that she would be in instrument of God’s grace, overwhelming as it might have been, her faithful response was, “be it to me the servant of the Lord” or as the Beatles would translate it, “let it be.” Sure, the message to Mary was startling. It may have been hard for her to fully comprehend. Yes, and maybe she was a young girl, but she was also smart enough and realistic enough to immediately understand the difficult of the call. “How can this be,” she asked because, “I am still a virgin.” She knew her circumstances. She clearly understood her situation that she was to be a pregnant, unmarried woman in a small village where everyone could talk and certainly everyone could count. She understood this would be humiliating.

And what was she to say to Joseph? “Joseph, it is ok, an angel told me in a dream that I would get pregnant by the Holy Spirit before we were married?” In the scriptural account, all that she could do was leave this up to God.

Devotional writers have often portrayed Mary as the idealized image of passive femininity who acted out perfect submission, but this is not the Mary of the biblical narrative. She was human. She was not perfect, and as the Magnificat reveals, she was not passive. But mostly, she was faithful. Mary believed what the Angel told her and she trusted by faith that God would work out all the details. We could very aptly paraphrase Paul’s words about Abraham applied to Mary, “She believed God and God reckoned it to her as righteousness.“

What then would WWMD mean to us? It would mean that faced with difficult decisions or moral choices, we need only ask what would Mary, who believed God and trusted God, do in this situation. This is something that I can imagine in all sorts of situations. It seems to me that the whole life of a disciple essentially is to believe God’s promises by faith and live as though God will work out all the details.
WWMD?

This might not be as catchy or as clever, but it does make a lot more sense to me as I struggle as a believer and disciple in the many circumstances and situations that I must face in this world. As we remember the feast day of the Annunciation, we could do a lot worse than remember to ask ourselves WWMD?

Learning from Wesley

On a cold January evening in 1975, I knelt in the darkened living room of the Rectory of Emmanuel Church in Stamford, Connecticut and made a total surrender of my life to Jesus Christ. This surrender came in response to an overwhelming sense of God’s presence as I spoke out the desperation and despair that I felt. The details of what happened are not important here because I am writing on the feast day of John and Charles Wesley to share what I learned from John Wesley after my conversion.

The problem was that I was already an ordained priest. It was some time later that I would learn that I shared with Wesley a post theological education conversion to Christ. I say “conversion to Christ” because that is what it was for me. I had felt called to the ministry, and, before seminary at least, I had believed in the Trinity and the creeds of the Church. What happened to me that night was that I experienced a personal sense of forgiveness and total acceptance by a living and real Christ. Jesus Christ became alive for me in a new way.

The most immediate result of this was expressed by what I did that night. I took the sermon that I had written that week and burned it in the fire place. I was determined to speak now of the love of Christ I knew personally, and not the ideas about God that I had learned in seminary. Let me be clear on this. I am not proud of the fact that I am a post theological education Christian. For example, people are surprised to know that one of my faculty advisors was Henry Nouwen. Yes, I was blessed by a number of outstanding teachers, not the least of which was Jaraslov Pelikan while at Yale. I do believe that some of them had a deep relationship with Christ. But none of these teachers ever spoke of a personal relationship with Christ as something to be desired, and most down played any sense of conversion. Conversion, if it existed at all, was a gradual process of growth. Consequently, I look back a bit jaded at my seminary experience.

For several years, I struggled to integrate my experience with both my theological education and my experience with Episcopal Church practices. Then on my tenth anniversary of ordination, I took a month’s sabbatical. I spent the month at a seminary following guidance from the Dean. What the Dean asked me in our first session changed my theological identity. As I shared trying to put these pieces together, he asked me, “While you were in seminary, did you read the source material of Anglicanism?” What he meant was whether I had actually read Cranmer and the other English Bishops of the reformation. Of course, I hadn’t. I had read commentaries and histories about them, but not the actual works. For the next month, I felt that I had found my roots. I discovered my evangelical and conversionist legacy which is thoroughly Anglican. Then he introduced me to the “Three Ws of Anglicanism; Wesley, Whitfield and Wilberforce. Wesley spoke to me.

Wesley was a high church Anglican who’s “heart was strangely warmed” in the Aldersgate experience, and who had deep commitments to the marginalized and poor of his world. In reading Wesley, I found an Anglican who expressed both what I believed and what I had experienced. I am not a Wesleyan if you mean by this a Methodist. I consider most Methodists that I have known to be very nice and well-intentioned people none of whom have either the conviction or passion of Wesley. I remain a person who believes in both conversion and sanctification. Here are some of the other things that I learned from Wesley:

All the head knowledge in the world cannot substitute for “knowing Christ Jesus in the power of his resurrection.”

Religious experience apart from creedal belief usually ends in shipwreck somewhere.

True conversion leads to passionate love for the poor and to concrete steps to alleviate their poverty.

Social justice and evangelism are both mandates of scripture, to hold one without the other is to diminish Christ’s work.

Holiness of life is the goal of all disciples – we don’t want to be people who do good things - we want to become people who are Christ-like.

Simplicity of life is a Christian virtue.

Christian leaders who hold power often work to suppress Christian experience even those who once claimed a conversion experience.

Being called a fanatic is often a compliment.

Nominal Christian life is the greatest enemy to true discipleship.

Innovation for the sake of mission and evangelism is Apostolic and needed in every age.

Extreme Calvinism quenches human freedom and is joyless.

People have free will and it is obvious that we have to cooperate with the Holy Spirit in ministry and growth.

In Christ, women are equal to men and can be effective agents of ministry.

Bishops are important, but prelacy is a sin against Christ and his Church.

And when it comes to preaching, “set yourself on fire in the pulpit and the whole world will come to see you burn.”

The Pope and TEC

Many of you have by now read or heard accounts of the offer last week from Pope Benedict to receive members of the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church into the Roman Catholic Church. The reports were a bit confusing and misleading. Here are some Q & A’s on this.

What was offered?

The Pope offered to receive members of the Anglican Church (and the Episcopal Church) into the Roman Church. Clergy could remain married and churches could use the Episcopal or Anglican Prayer Book services.

Was this new?

Yes and No: Anglican clergy have been allowed to join the Roman Church. For example, there is a former Episcopalian serving one of our nearby Roman Parishes. Such clergy are “re-ordained” and allowed to be married. There are also at least seven “Anglican Rite” Roman Churches in the U.S. These parishes have been given approval to use extensive parts of the Prayer Book in Liturgy and many elements of Anglo-catholic worship. However, there were two additions in this announcement. First, it was made public by the Pope in a high profile news release. These issues have been handled more quietly in the past to respect on-going ecumenical talks. It is clear that no one, including the Archbishop of Canterbury knew this was to be announced.

Second, the offer was to parishes and even dioceses and not just individuals. However, the clergy will still need to be ordained in the Roman Church and no married clergy would be allowed to serve as a Bishop. So, of the U.S. dioceses that have left TEC like Ft. Worth, only one of the Bishops would even qualify for consideration.

Will this affect many Episcopalians?

Probably not. It might affect some of the already spin off groups of churches. For example, the Anglican Church in North America has churches that are very Anglo-catholic and apposed to women’s ordination and at the same time has evangelical parishes. This could draw off churches from that group, but still, we are probably talking about less than 100 clergy. This could have some effect in the English Church where there is some current tension and division over the question of women bishops, however, this is very hard to determine. Only time can tell.

Will lay people be involved?

They might if they are in congregations that have left the Episcopal Church, however, lay people have always been free to move membership to Rome if they wished. Consequently, we are not talking about very many people.

If this affects few people, why did it make such news?

There are three reasons for this. First, the Pope, by making the announcement, stepped over previous protocols on how such matters are handled. Second, the on-going conflict in the Episcopal Church, The Canadian Church and even the Church of England made this seem newsworthy. Lastly, most reporters had little understanding of the current church issues and thought this was new, innovative and an open raid on the Anglican Church by the Roman Church. They were misinformed.

Does this affect either the Cathedral or the Diocese of Dallas?

No, not at all. We continue to carry out our mission and ministry as we believe God is leading us.

Connected?

I have over 300 “friends” on Facebook. There are over 200 families at the Cathedral, and I have over 300 “contacts” in Outlook on my computer. So, why at times, do I feel so lonely?

It may have to do primarily with my being an only child. I have over the years wondered if being an only child leaves one feeling like we are special and unique with its consequential down side of feeling alone. It could be.

Another answer to this question comes from a recent article in Leadership Magazine. The author refers to “The Loneliness of the Senior Pastor.” The point of the article is that a Senior Pastor, read Dean of the Cathedral, lives with a strange paradox. We have hundreds of relationships with our members, can even enter one of their homes by just knocking on the door, yet most of our members tend to see us in a utilitarian manner. We are like their doctor, their lawyer, their shop clerk. If you think about it, you would notice that most of these folks are not friends no matter how often you see them. Indeed, we often need to hold folks like our doctor at a bit of a distance. The less we know of his or her humanity, the better off we feel. The same could be said of one’s pastor.

I think, however, a better explanation came from a presentation on media communication during our Diocesan Body Building Day. The speaker made this observation about loneliness in today’s world. “We make the mistake of thinking that because we have all these instant contacts through email, Facebook, and Twitter that we are in actually in relationship to these people.” To this he added, “Being connected does not mean that you are relating with these people.” What a profound insight.

This explains my recent withdrawal from participation in the House of Deputies listserv. I found myself becoming more and more frustrated with the level of communication. What I could not articulate was that I was sharing a lot, but connecting almost none at all.

I’ve known for some time that email is a poor form for many kinds of communications. Since you can not nuance someone’s intonation or voice, there is a tendency to take all email as literal communication. So, “John is an idiot” without a wink and smile attached communicates that you think that John (who has a PhD from Harvard) is actually an idiot. And don’t even move in the direction of irony. I tried an ironic statement on the House of Deputies listserv and brought down the wrath of many an accepting, inclusive, and well-meaning deputy, liberal in their interpretation of Scripture and fundamentalists in their reading of email!

So, could it be that at times I feel lonely because I am confusing all this connectedness with actually relating to someone? This doesn’t mean that being an only child or a Dean isn’t part of the formula, just that they are not the only issues in this.

So what do I plan on doing? I am taking friendship more seriously and doing it in person. How about you? Are you confusing “connectedness” with “being in relationship?”

Travels with Garmina

Last Christmas my wife Sharon gave me a wonderful gift.  It was a Garmin GPS system to use in my car.  All I had to do was type in an address and the Garmin would direct me to the quickest route.  Of course, my wife was never expecting that I would use the Garmin when she was in the car because it has been our long tradition that she navigates. 

I knew we were in for some tension when Sharon headed to the American Automobile Association for maps and books for our planned trip to North Carolina.  “We can use the Garmin,” I suggested.  This generated a terse, “Why?  I’ll be in the car.” 

To make matters worse, the Garmin gives directions with a feminine voice, “turn right in 2 miles and continue 15 miles to destination.”  The day of our trip, I placed the Garmin on my wife’s dash board.  To her suspicious looks, I reassured, “You will be surprised how helpful it is.”  By Texarkana, I had to mute the voice because Sharon found it annoying. 

A break though of sorts occurred just outside Memphis as we searched in vain for an agreeable restaurant.  “Let me show you this,” I said as I went to points of interest and found a very acceptable place to eat.  Later Sharon allowed, “I can see where that might be helpful.”  And indeed it proved helpful finding gas, lodging and other things the next day.  By the end of the second day, Sharon volunteered, “Well, I can see why you like Garima so much.”  From that time onward, Garmina became a kind of consultant as my wife would consider suggested routes and either agree or direct me to “a short cut that Garmina doesn’t seem to understand.” 

On our last night driving home, Sharon had planned on us stopping in Shreveport because it would be late getting home.  Garmina indicated that our arrival time would be 7:04 pm and we agreed to drive on home and sleep in our own bed.  Of course, Garima’s arrival time did not take in consideration a rest break at the Texas Information Center, a gas stop, numerous red lights in the Dallas area, and so by 8:30 my wife was obviously annoyed with how Garmina had “misled us.” 

Last week, I forgot and left Garmina in my car. Although generally out of sight on the floorboard, someone broke my window and stole the GPS.  I was late for an appointment when I found it missing and Sharon was kind enough to do the report to the police and see to the window repair. 

That night, as I was sitting eating dinner in a somber mood, Sharon said in a kind voice, “I am sorry that you lost Garmina.”  “Thanks, I responded,” but I couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to have a slight smile as she said it.  “Maybe we can replace it someday,” she offered.  Then she added, “If we do, we can call it Garminette.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled again, but in my heart I understood.      

How Did I Ever Get to Be a Conservative?

This is a question that I have been asking myself a lot these past few weeks. I know that I am one because people tell me that I am. Recently, in an email exchange with one of the progressive leaders of the Church, she said to me in passing, “this is important because you are a known conservative. . .” The ironic thing is that I do not think of myself as a conservative and never use the word regarding myself.

I remember the very day that I was first called this. It was at the annual convention for the Diocese of Olympia in 1987. There had been an active debate on the floor that morning on a resolution dealing with some civil war in Central America. I do not remember the details, but I do remember that the floor debate was made difficult because the resolution was very poorly written. Having attended many conventions and heard too many resolutions, I went to the microphone and pointed out that the poor wording made it almost impossible to understand the purpose of the resolution. To my surprise, the Bishop asked me what I would suggest. I suggested that we postpone the resolution and allow the author and one other person to take a moment and rewrite the resolution saying in short declarative sentences what they really wanted us to do. The Bishop thought this a wise recommendation and adjourned for a break while the combatants were sent off to do the re-wording work. I went to find a cup of coffee. That is when it happened.

I was standing in the line when the author approached me with a re-written draft. “What do you think? he asked me. I read it over and responded that I thought it much better worded and that this would allow people to act more decisively. “Good,” he nodded, “So, as a leader of the conservatives, do you think this is a good compromise?” “Leader of the conservatives?” I laughed, and he went off shaking his head. I stood there a long time pondering what I had just heard.

There I stood, the Rector of St. Luke’s Parish in Seattle, a church known for its leadership in Charismatic Renewal. There I was, a person despised by many traditionalists for daring to bring “aerobics worship” into the Episcopal Church, contemporary music, and lay folks doing all kinds of things that used to be reserved for clergy like anointing sick people for healing. I thought of myself as an innovator who had spent over 10 years serving at the margins of the Church.

In addition, I considered myself a moderate to progressive on most church issues especially having been a strong advocate for women’s ordination. Yes, my own personal renewal experience had brought me into a deeper engagement with scripture, a more committed devotional life, and a deeper appreciation for the theology and heritage that my Anglo-catholic upbringing in the Diocese of Dallas had given me, but I never saw this as inconsistent with social action. Further, one of my heroes of the faith, John Wesley, had proven himself a dedicated abolitionist and social reformer, and this all out of his passionate spirituality. How could anyone call me a conservative?

What I did not understand, and still have trouble understanding, is how far the Episcopal Church had moved from the time I was ordained until that moment and even further now. For me, conservatives were folks who loved Elizabethan language and the Rite I liturgy. They were Anglophiles who spoke with slight English accents to congregations that found this assuring. They opposed women’s ordination. They lectured me on how “that” music was pandering to low brow and pop fads of the day.
As I stood in the crowed parish hall of St. Mark’s Cathedral, I looked around the room and began to realize that all those folks were retired or gone. Now, because I at least believed the Creeds and affirmed the biblical authority of the Church, and believed in a basic Christology, I was now numbered among the conservatives.

While I grew to understand my new label, I have never worn it well and never used it in reference to myself. The chief reasons for this are two-fold. First, I am not a conservative regarding social issues and politically. I remain a social moderate and a political independent. Second, I find the very bad behavior of many who call themselves conservative divisive, mean-spirited, often arrogant, and too self-righteous.

Who am I then? I am an Episcopalian who found my heart strangely warmed, do know that I am forgiven and loved by Christ and want to whole world to know of this love. I am a catholic in my love of the Church and her sacraments, an evangelical in my devotion to the God’s Word, and a progressive in my view of the reform of society and the gospel work in our world. In my mind, I am an Episcopalian.

Gregory the Great

In her book “The Great Emergence,” Phyllis Tickle mentions as one of the great turning points in the history of the Church the leadership of Gregory the Great. March 12th is his feast day, and in the liturgy, we catch three glimpses of his contributions.

The first comes form the Old Testament reading in Chronicles when we hear of musicians being set aside for the worship in Israel. Gregory was known for his reformation of the Western Church’s liturgy.

Second, in the gospel reading, we hear the lesson on servant leadership from Mark. Gregory served the Church as a leader and left it in much better shape than when he took over as a leader.

Third, we Episcopalians hear reference in the collect of his sending missionaries to England. Of course, these missionaries found the Church already present thanks to the work of the Celtic Christians, but we honor Gregory for re-connecting the Celtic Church to the wider community.

I am writing about the second of these, Gregory’s reforms. The Apostolic era had long faded, and one of its greatest victories, becoming the official religion of Rome, had played itself out in corruption and decay. Gregory set out with vigor to recapture the Church’s initial Apostolic zeal and holiness. His methods did not move the Church backward but forward, and this is one of Tickle’s major points.

In order to do this, Gregory reached out to the margins of Christianity to the emerging monastic movements and brought them into the center of the Church’s life. In doing this, he set the tone and character of the Church for the next 500 years. He made major improvements in the education of clergy. He reformed the hierarchy while standardizing the liturgy, and recapturing the missionary zeal of the early Church. He is rightfully called “the Great,” and he established the See of Rome as the dominant force in the Western Church.

Tickle goes on to suggest in her work that we are at precisely one of those emerging moments in the history of Christianity when the Church must be transformed into a renewed community. If she is right, and I believe she is, let us pray that God will raise up other servant leaders to guide us through this new transformation. What better day to pray this than on the day we remember one leader who did.