Time to update

No matter how much my interior image resists the passage of time, the hour has come and now is to put a current photo in here. Behold, the BB as of today.

Taking the Plunge

It's all Firedoglake's fault.

The gang over there has been forming a group on Facebook and encouraging everyone to join in.

Sigh. What's a techno-luddite to do?

I might have resisted. But I didn't.

My Facebook page is here.

Why does Miss Dickinson come to mind?

I'm nobody. Who are you?
Are nobody too?
Then there's a pair of us. Don't tell.
They'd advertise, you know.

How dreary to be somebody;
How public, like a frog,
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog.

[If I have misquoted here, chalk it up to memory. This has been with me since high school. Thanks to Mr. Amend for insisting we memorize poetry. He also insisted we call her Miss Dickinson and not just "Emily."]
--the BB

Toward a wholistic theology

Some years ago during one of the annual gatherings of the Council of the Associated Parishes for Liturgy and Mission, the topic of same-sex relationships and liturgies was being discussed. Many contributed to the discussion though I specifically recall Juan Oliver pushing the discussion toward a larger approach.

What I carried away from that particular round of discussion was that we need to do our theology in the broadest and most interrelated fashion possible. In the case of human sexuality, for instance, we need to do more than discuss the topic in terms of creation, theological anthropology, salvation, and sanctification. We need to articulate how we understand human intimacy in terms of our understandings of the Trinity, the Kingdom of God, Incarnation, Church, mission, and all the rest.

An occasional Bible verse will not suffice, nor will invocations of the purpose(s) of sexuality. There is much more involved than revelation (whether viewed as fixed or ongoing) or issues of justice.

I would very much like to know what is being said and written on human intimacy and perichoresis (the mutual interpenetration and indwelling of the Trinity); ways in which human relationships show forth the Reign of God; the role of committed love in manifesting redemption and communicating Good News; inclusive discussions on sexuality and sanctification; ways in which the fruit of the Spirit is nurtured in human relationships of all kinds, etc.

I know these topics are discussed and the preceding paragraph could invite massive compendia of links and bibliographies. My suspicion is that most expressions in these areas come in the form of private discussions, poetry, local liturgies, scattered articles, and the field of pastoral care. My sense is that these topics have been explored widely and, perhaps, quite profoundly. The Episcopal Church did not suddenly or arbitrarily decide it would be good for People of God to have an openly gay bishop. Decades of experience, struggle, and discernment went into the decision. Friends who have met +Gene testify to his compassion, pastorality, and holiness. It would be a blessing if all bishops could be so beloved as he is by those who have come to know him.

Perhaps these random thoughts are a plea for some gifted theologians to compile yet one more discussion of human intimacy (and for God's sake--literally--not just about sexuality) that is tight, coherent, and comprehensive. If what we say about intimacy is not being profoundly related to all the areas of theology, then we risk imbalance and superficiality at best.

I know we can do better than holiness code denunciations on one hand and cries for justice on the other. (Not that I stand in the middle of the discussion; we all know I am way on the side of inclusion, trusting God to have already sanctified creation.*)

Well, just wanted to say it.
--the BB

* Cf. the Eastern Orthodox liturgies of the Theophany (in the Festal Menaion) and Peter's vision of a whole sheetload of critters.

My Georgia O'Keefe Moment

While watering the garden yesterday morning I looked down at the zucchini patch and the image above greeted me. This necessitated a dash into the house for my camera.

At this point there are daily harvests of a handful of cherry tomatoes. The larger tomatoes have a few shifting into shades of orange but not a ripe red yet. I have harvested three early zukes but there has been a slight pause in production there. The sundry varieties of peppers scattered about the yard are all growing and some blossoming. It will be interesting to see what sort of harvest eventuates.

On a totally unrelated topic, MadPriest's nostalgic romp through the music of the Tribal Rock Musical Hair (here, here, and here - and really, did we need to see the tie-dyed extravaganza? Can no one's past have privacy?) has sent me into a nostalgic time warp, singing along with the music (and recalling probably 90% of the lyrics). [Now, why can't I remember what I was about to do in the present? Sigh.]

I had blessedly softened the memory of just how large a part the drug culture played in the lyrics of the musical and was not offended but definitely startled as I listened again. My memories have focused on what I loved about the musical: its energy, its defiance, its desire to create community without oppressive structures, and its loathing of war. In this it captured much of what I valued then and still value now.

From the standpoint of one rooted in the Church I rather wished the youth of that era (my era) were aware of the life-affirming and liberating aspects of the Gospel that I cherished, rather than seeing the various churches, and "organized religion" in general, as oppressive, stodgy, stultifying, and overall inimical to the human spirit.

To this day I have many friends, and encounter many strangers, who want to affirm their spiritual journey somehow while making it clear that somewhere along the line they have been burned. They drag out the tedious line: "I'm spiritual but I have no use for organized religion."

I think I know what they are trying to say, and I certainly don't cut organized religion much slack myself, but I want to say, "Oh, grow up!" The meme that was just trotted out reeks of adolescent thinking, with a simplistic view of both spirituality and religion.

Religious acts, rites, formulae, beliefs, traditions, etc. that are carried out dutifully but have no insight or passion, no deeper connection between the believer and the Ultimate, are essentially hollow and dead. We all know that. Religion can be quite "unspiritual." The "letter" (the dry external stuff) can kill while the "spirit" gives life. This insight has been around a while, so it's not new. Acknowledging it does not let us off the hook.

So, what are you doing, or going to do, about it? What are you doing for your spirituality? Are you content to leave it floating gaseously in the ether--vague and without direction? Is that going to help you grow in depth, breadth, and fuller life? Will that help you be of some use in the healing of the planet?

Of course, if pressed, folks can name a great deal more about their spiritual principles, but they are usually uncomfortable doing so. There is a great deal they might affirm about the value of creation, of other people, of community, of the way we treat each other, what we are here for, how we should live with one another, and what gives life meaning.

That we need to get to know each other and trust each other before we talk about these things is more than fair.

But where do these values come from? Are they not the teachings of the great wisdom traditions and religions of the world? Why yes, they are. They emerge from the life-giving spirit, not the outward rituals. And these values are part of the general discourse because religious traditions have preserved them, explored them, and express them. A very few of us have independent insights. We are all inheritors and it's a bit churlish to deny whence we receive our gifts.

But how do we live out these beliefs? By putting them into action, embodying them in our words and deeds, doing so in specific places and times--in other words, making them incarnate.

In order for people to do anything together, social organization kicks in. It is reality. It is neutral. Organization may be good, bad, or indifferent. It may enable and enhance the desired activity or stifle and thwart it. It may leave us feeling more alive, more effective, more actualized, or it may leave us drained, frustrated, hurt, and even dehumanized.

If you put your spirituality into action in any manner other than one-on-one, you are participating in organized spirituality. Deal with it.

The word "religion" comes from Latin and refers to that which binds us together. If your spirituality has anything to do with what builds community, it is religious. When you give time to a food bank or ride a bike for AIDS charities or walk or run to fight breast cancer, you are participating in an organized effort that builds community, binds us together, and probably has a spiritual vision behind it.

Ah, you may protest, but I don't have to buy into a belief system when I do those things, so it's not religion.

Ah, I reply, you have already, by your actions, expressed a belief that we are all in this together, that alleviating suffering is an appropriate expression of caring about each other, and I would even wager that behind your actions lies a story about someone you love. A huge complex of beliefs and values lies behind it all.

Some of us see something transcendent (even holy) lying beyond and deeply within all this. Some of us do not. But the line between organized religion and (we don't call it disorganized , do we?) spirituality is really a very fine line, if there is one at all.

As for bodies that intentionally consider themselves religious and organize themselves as such.... If their organization nourishes life, community, wholeness, peace, joy, love, compassion, etc. then being spiritual doesn't preclude any of this. And if their organization does not do this, or does just the opposite, then doesn't being a responsibly spiritual person imply some obligation to change the organization?

OK, not everyone is called to change organizations, especially those with which one does not identify. But I would suggest that responsible spirituality calls for me to live my beliefs (this is not negotiable). Secondly, it invites but does not require me to participate wherever my beliefs can be expressed with folks who share life-nurturing goals. Thirdly, it empowers me to stand up for life and reject that which nourishes and celebrates death (whether that is manifested in social, political, or religious spheres).

One thing being spiritual does not allow is an unexamined life (Socrates told us that a very long time ago), being content with a vague affirmation of rainbows and kittens, and sitting on our asses while people suffer. I don't think most folks who prefer being known as "spiritual" over being thought "religious" are indulging in unexamined lives or indifference. I just think they are more "religious" than they think and that they are fostering a false dichotomy. Religion is what happens when we practice our spirituality.

And, being raised in the United States and nurtured with democratic ideals, I think that in faith matters as well as political ones, We the People have to take responsibility for how we organize to live in community and pursue our inalienable rights.

As Pangloss concludes: Il faut cultiver notre jardin (we must tend our garden).
--the BB

From My Housemates to those of Padre Mickey

Numerous, though not all, members of the BB's family pictured here in our former home in California. Clockwise beginning with the purple-ribboned seated bear: Porphyry, Dillinger, Fr. Anskar, Otter the Great, Manuel Mapache, Margaret Macrina (Maggie), Leo, Paddington, Pample, Thermopylous; on the floor L to R: Hephzibah, Belle, Sally & Jonah; and my father's family in the photo.

Lest the august guardians of Padre Mickey's home (who were certainly left at home during a recent vacation as much to guard the home as for the sake of their safety) feel slighted, they are hereby saluted and duly recognized by my children.

So here's to Gallito Mescalito, Mr. Red Peanut Bank, Mr. Chompy's Chewed-up Kitty Toy, and the Egyptian Hippo of Love from all the kids at Desert Farne.

In further solidarity, the BB wishes to inform Padre Mickey that the BB chats with his kids all the time.

We are also commanded to convey best wishes from His Orthodox Majesty, Maximiliano Cuauhtemoc Juarez Primo, Emperor of El Cerrito, Archduke of Hercules, and Margrave of the Great River ("Cocoa" to his friends). His O. M. is not pictured as he is busy napping in my bed right now.

Some of us feel the world would be saved from much folly and not a little grievous sin if we took ourselves less seriously.
--the BB

I'm just saying

"But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security."

Screw fireworks; remember why this day matters!
--the BB

God help me; I'm bland

I have noted of late several blogs showing a rating. Curiosity led me to find out where I might stand. The result:

Mingle² - Online Dating

How terminally dull of me. The only consolation is that it could have been worse. One mention of "the infernal regions" and two mentions of "enhanced interrogation" got me the PG-13. I euphemize here lest I receive a harsher rating just for this.

I shall try to be more startling in future.
--the BB

Bring back John 3:16!

It has been a while since I spotted someone in a crowd holding up a sign that reads "John 3:16." This is probably more because I have not watched many sports events and news programs on the television lately.

I have just been shocked into nostalgia for such signs.

Let's review our Bible, shall we?

ουτως γαρ ηγαπησεν ο θεος τον κοσμον ωστε τον υιον τον μονογενη εδωκεν ινα πας ο πιστευων εις αυτον μη αποληται αλλ εχη ζωην αιωνιον

When I was just a little cub, the very first Bible verse most of us memorized was John 3:16: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

Kwa maana Mungu aliupenda ulimwengu kiasi cha kumtoa Mwanae pekee, ili kila mtu amwaminiye asipotee, bali awe na uzima wa milele.

I rather like adding the following verse: "For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved."

I point out that the word the Fourth Evangelist uses for "world" here is the Greek kosmos, a polyvalent word for both the socio-political system that sets itself against God and thus incurs divine judgment and the object of God's love. The evangelist manages not only to live with this tension but to proclaim it. For all that is said about the world, God nonetheless loves it. This is basic Bible 101a stuff.

Porque de tal manera amó Dios al mundo, que dio a su Hijo unigénito, para que todo aquel que cree en El, no se pierda, mas tenga vida eterna.

Although I have, through most of my life, been somewhat put off my chow by folks who do evangelism in the all-up-in-your-grill style (yes, the style in which I was raised), there is no question that John 3:16 is, and always has been, foundational to my understanding of God, Jesus, and issues of salvation. The soteriological message is grounded in, and begins with, the premise that God loves the world. Period. This is our starting point. It is related to the assertion in 1 John 4:8 that "God is love."

Also hat Gott die Welt geliebt, daß er seinen eingeborenen Sohn gab, auf daß alle, die an ihn glauben, nicht verloren werden, sondern das ewige Leben haben.

What sent me flying back to this anchor verse of Scripture was the song "God hates the world," performed here by the folks from Westboro Baptist Church (famous for their website godhatesfags.com - no, I'm not making this up).


http://view.break.com/278059 - Watch more free videos

Watching this video as folks sway and smile while singing about God's hatred is, to put it mildly, unsettling. Not surprising, if one has followed the career of this congregation, headed by Fred Phelps. They are the folks who picket funerals of U. S. troops with their "God hates fags" and "It's too late" signs, proclaiming judgment on our nation for tolerating gays.

The real kick in the gut comes at the end when a very little girl sings the chorus, obviously thrilling to the attention and praise she gets, and then gives a shy smile. The juxtaposition with a theme of hatred is beyond creepy and I don't need to ramble on about it.

Car Dieu a tant aimé le monde qu'il a donné son Fils unique, afin que quiconque croit en lui ne périsse point, mais qu'il ait la vie éternelle.

They have a web page with this glaring title: "'God Loves Everyone': The Greatest Lie Ever Told - 701 Passages Proving God's Wrath & Hate for Most of Mankind."

Now, I remember when I was in my early twenties and wrestled with what I believed. Immense quantities of psychic energy had gone into keeping my worlds compartmentalized throughout childhood and adolescence. Now my worlds were colliding: faith, science, sexuality, politics, reason, emotion--the works. What I had been taught, what I observed, and what I felt were all clashing against each other and I desperately sought some way to bring them into a semblance of relatedness.

As a senior in college I decided to start all over. My guiding principle was "Jesus is mine and I am his and all the rest is up for grabs." Who is God? Who am I? What is the Bible? What is sin? What is salvation? What is a human being? Who is Jesus? Where is meaning found? You know the questions.

Being a lover of the mystery of words (and the Word), I did word studies on sin, salvation, and realated terms. I concluded that sin was about damaged or broken relationship. Because relationship is what matters, beginning with our relationship to God, that is what makes sin so terrible. I rejected dualism, so sin was a subsidiary reality, something that could not even exist without the prior reality of relatedness (cf. Augustine of Hippo and his teaching on evil as the "privatio boni").

For me, "salvation" was right relationship: with God, with oneself, with others, with creation. In this I anticipated the comments about the Messiah in the Catechism of The Book of Common Prayer 1979, but this was back in later college and early Baptist seminary years (1967-1970).

“The Messiah is one sent by God to free us from the power of sin, so that with the help of God we may live in harmony with God, within ourselves, with our neighbors, and with all creation.” (BCP, 849)

This was my vision of "shalom," salvation, eternal life, etc. It is what we are saved FOR, a vital point for someone who had spent the first two decades of his life hearing what we were saved FROM (sin, death, and hell). My question had always been: "I have believed in Christ and accepted God's gift; now what?" My roots were big on saving folks from hell but rather weak on a doctrine of sanctification, or growth in holiness, or journey of faith, or ascetical practices. This is a huge part of why I was attracted to the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions who had more for the faithful to do than collect spiritual scalps through an evangelism that sounded to me more like bad news than Good News.

My friends and family will tell you that I am a pack rat, a collector, someone who had trouble tossing stuff out. This proves true in theology as well. When I find something to be obsolete, irrelevant, or simply not fitting into my "system," I either struggle to redefine it or put it on hold, waiting patiently for the day when it makes sense.

Ибо так возлюбил Бог мир, что отдал Сына Своего Единородного, дабы всякий верующий в Него, не погиб, но имел жизнь вечную.

This is why I could build a theology based on love and inclusion and still refuse to toss out the concept of the wrath of God. When someone I love is hurt, when those I love suffer, I do two things in varying degrees: I grieve and I get angry. It is not all right when evil and injustice are done. Language about God can only be analogous and metaphorical, so I don't assume that God's emotions match and are limited by mine. But I can understand God grieving and fuming at humans wreaking havoc on each other and God's creation. But wrath, divine anger, is subsidiary, a function of love, a manifestation of concern. And if all the parties involved are objects of God's love, it gets complex in a way I cannot sort out, but then I am not God and don't have to try to be God.

Put humorously (I hope my readers can read this for its irony): God hates it when we're hating on each other.

So, if I jettison any concept of divine wrath I run the risk of viewing God as indifferent, which is the opposite of loving.

Deus amou tanto o mundo que deu o seu único Filho para que todo aquele que nele crê não se perca espiritualmente, mas tenha a vida eterna.

All of that is an aside to preclude confusion about whether my understanding of God's love is all nicey-nicey, sugar-coated sentimentality. Sugary religion makes me sick too. But at least I can honor its loving intention.

A religion of hatred, however, is another thing altogether. I don't understand it. I can "get" folks driven by fear of the other into defensiveness, and further driven by fear into hatred, and thence into violence. But attaching that in any way, shape, or form to Jesus.... Simply beyond me.

Koia ano te aroha o te Atua ki te ao, homai ana e ia tana Tama kotahi, kia kahore ai e ngaro te tangata e whakapono ana ki a ia, engari kia whiwhi ai ki te ora tonu.

And thus I want to "go back to basics" - as in, John 3:16. Whatever else we have to say, it all begins here: God so loved the world....

There is also Genesis 1:31:

"And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. "

We all pick and choose which parts of the Bible and the tradition we emphasize and use as a lens to understand the rest. All of us. Now you know some of mine.

Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. (1 John 4:7)

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

--The BB

Clothing in Beauty

Yes, still wrestling with water usage. The first sixty years of my life (yes, children, I really am that old, so let's have some respect) were spent in California, a state whose history is one of water wars. I now am a citizen of New Mexico where water is even more scarce.

Today, as I watered the garden I was thinking, as usual, about the lifeblood of our Mother. Another aspect of what I was doing came to me. I am helping to clothe our Mother with green things, working with the life force within Ina Maka and the light of Ate Wi to invite the plant nations to flourish in this little patch. I am delighting to clothe our Mother in beauty as various leaf forms and lovely flowers adorn her. As green things work their photosynthetic magic, the air of the planet is renewed. Habitat is also established for all manner of burrowing, creeping, leaping, and flying relatives.

There are undoubtedly wiser ways to manage water use, but what I do is intended to honor Ina Maka, not to squander her life thoughtlessly.

Ah, endless self-justification, eh? We are such ignorant, sinful, self-deluded and deluding creatures. To think that the Creator would entrust to the two-leggeds the sacred task of tending harmony and balance. Helmut Thielicke was right: if any sin may laid to the charge of God it is gambling.

The Firstruits:
My first cherry tomato and Anaheim chile

The first blossom on the Crimson Blaze climbing rose

There are a couple more cherry tomatoes lurking deep in the heart of this photo

And here are some Anaheim chiles

In other news:
Mark MacDonald, Bishop of Alaska, has just been confirmed to serve as Bishop of Navajoland. He will leave his position in Alaska, though he will be serving concurrently as bishop for the First Nations of Canada as well as for Navajoland. May all the First Nations walk in beauty and we learn to join them.

I am honored to have some of my thoughts posted at The Episcopal Majority. My thanks to the patient editor!
--the BB

Nuance? Backpedaling? You decide

"Tournament of Roses" variety

While thinking in one context yesterday I wrote something that, in another context, is thoughtless and irresponsible.

I said there was nothing wrong with either my wanting to see things grow in the desert or trying to reproduce a Berkleley hills garden in my little corner of the world. When I said there was "nothing wrong with either of those two things" I meant in a psychological sense. In an ecological sense there is a great deal to ponder and criticize.

What sort of respect for this part of the world can I possibly show when trying to make the desert (technically "high grasslands," I have been informed) into something it is not? And how responsible am I being with resources?

I am conscious of the life-blood of our Mother, that most precious reality of life in this corner of the world: water. I water by hand, use lots of mulch to minimize evaporation, and think about the precious gift of water as I nurture each growing thing. The front yards in my neighborhood are all xeriscaped and drip irrigation provides just enough to keep things alive. Overall, according to my water bill, I am well below average household use. Still, I cannot escape discomfort when using water. Nor should I. May the Creator keep me conscious of the consequences of my actions.

In addition to bringing joy to my own heart, I hope my garden will lift the spirits of others and that future harvests of fruits and vegetables will nourish body and soul alike.

Salvia, dwarf marigolds, and sweet alyssum

"Piñata" rose variety

Firstfruits
This morning I harvested my first cherry tomato. I spotted the globe of bright red in the depths of the greenery while watering this morning. No idea how it evaded my sight previously but this morning it seemed to shine and cry out, "Here I am!"

I brought it in, sharpened my paring knife and sliced it thinly. Added a leaf of basil from the yard, julienned and sprinkled on top. Three drops of olive oil on the plate, a sprinkle of salt, some freshly ground black pepper. Quite satisfying.

I then made a thank-offering throughout the garden, beginning at the tomato patch and walking deosil about the yard, sprinkling tobacco and giving thanks. No, I do not smoke tobacco; in fact, I abhor cigarette and cigar smoke. But I do offer pipe tobacco to the Creator and the seven directions. We must not take without offering respect and thanks.
--The BB

A Son of the Soil (in spite of myself)

I spent a lot of time in my back yard last week, tending to my garden.

When I moved to Albuquerque I realized afresh how large my back yard seemed. Maybe 50 by 40 feet of sand mixed with fine adobe clay. Except for the tumbleweeds that spring up with great vigor, it was rather barren.

Bill inspired me to plant some fruit trees. I followed this endeavor with roses, mostly bare root, and on Maundy Thursday I became so bold as to plant tomatoes, foolishly assuming I was past frost danger. Two days later it snowed. The tomatoes, however, survived.

Here is where things stood:
The lush little border on the right is a patch thickly planted with rosemary, lavender, and dark purple petunias. Basil and chives are tucked in there too. The green against the back wall is a Piñata rose that blooms in multiple shades of red, yellow, and deep orange. Two peach saplings (Red Haven in the foreground and Elberta behind it), the tomatoes and Anaheim peppers near the north wall, then a climbing yellow rose between the vegies and the herbs.

Other bare root roses curved around a Methley plum and I planted small beds between the roses, filling them with gazanias, dwarf marigolds, and alyssum. Here is a later view from a different angle, still aiming at the NW corner.
After last weeks efforts, here is a close-up of the NW corner. You can see blooms on the Piñata rose, lush tomato plants, and in between a flame seedless grapevine. Along the wall to the left are lavenders and coral roses. In the center foreground is a row with various peppers and deep red petunias that were just planted. Three kinds of squash have also gone in and three other rows of vegetables and herbs (mostly more peppers and an eggplant). Along the south wall is a border of sixteen plants, about five types all with blue to purple flowers.
And, though one expects no fruit in the first year and precious little until year 3 to 5, I do have four peaches. Here is the largest, currently the size of a small apricot.
I came to two realizations yesterday. (1) Although I could never be considered anything but a "city boy," there is nonetheless something of the San Joaquin Valley soil in me that cries out for growing things in the desert. As aloof as I may have been from my relatives who farmed, this yard project has me quite excited. (2) Looking at what I have been doing in what seemed a rather haphazard manner, it is evident that I have subconsciously been trying to recreate something of the look and feel of a home garden in or near the Berkeley hills: a bit of the East Bay in Albuquerque.

Well, there's nothing wrong with either of those two things. I love the landscape of New Mexico, its sparse and harsh beauty, the vast expanse of sky. I also love my little patch of flowers, fruit trees, vegetables, and herbs.

Thanks be to God for all growing things.

A Neglected Saint

Sant Guilhèm dau Desèrt
(c) 2007 Paul E. Strid

It will be forty years ago this fall since I spent a semester in France, studying somewhat (I was majoring in French) and enjoying myself a great deal. I lived with the family of L'Intendant Général Jean F Urvoy, who was in charge of l'École Militaire d'Administration in Montpellier. I was blessed to travel about with the family and thus came one day to St-Guilhem-le-Desert, site of an abbey founded by one Guilhem. Over the door in my bedroom is a perfectly tacky and very inexpensive crucifix I purchased in a gift shop that day. To me it is sacred because it links me to this fascinating man.

Guilhem [I am using the Occitan spelling of his name] was the grandson of Charles Martel (yes, that one) and thus related to Charlemagne. He was Count of Toulouse and one of the noble warriors who held things together for Louis I, the Pious, a weak monarch who needed all the help he could get. Guilhem was defeated by the Saracens at the Orbieux River but it was a Pyrrhic victory and they lost their taste for conquest in France and withdrew to Spain. He later pursued and defeated them in Barcelona.

Guilhem donated land and had an abbey built in the valley of Gellone and later renounced his titles, divided his realm among his heirs, and became a monk. His exact relationship to St. Benedict of Aniane is complicated by later prestige wars between Aniane and Gellone. He was certainly acquainted with and probably inspired by Benedict, whether he was under obedience to him or not.

Thus the basics on the historical Guilhèm.

His image as a greater-than-life warrior flowered in a cycle of chansons de geste (namely, La Geste de Garin de Monglane) and he is known in this context as Guillaume d'Orange, though he had no historical link with that French city.

Over the past four decades I have often invoked St. Guilhèm, asking his prayers. When it seemed time to write a new icon I wondered which saint it should be. Guilhèm popped into my head since I had no image of him. So, in late May, I began, turning to the internet to refresh my memory.

There I found information on Guilhèm and photographs of Gellone and the later abbey that still stands there and serves as a parish church. Since he was Frankish, I gave him blond hair and blue eyes, but who knows? The Cross of Languedoc in the upper corners is the same as the arms of the counts of Toulouse and has strong emotional content for me since I loved the fierce pride of the southern French. The decoration on the border is adapted from decorative motifs in the Sacramentary of Gellone, a liturgical manuscript of historical interest. The abbey is in the background and the hills are modeled on those surrounding the valley (though from a very different angle than the view of the abbey).

What I was not prepared for was rummaging through dozens of boxes in my garage for one thing (which I did not locate) and coming across two term papers I wrote on Guilhèm during my graduate studies at UCLA. One was for a course in hagiography and another was literary analysis for a class in medieval French literature. This was just two days after beginning the icon. The papers reminded me that his feast is May 28, which was the following Monday.

I rather think Guilhèm wanted his image written and I had not chosen the theme of my icon at all. Fr. Christopher McLaren blessed it at St. Michael's church picnic last Sunday, his daughter graciously wielding the rosemary sprig to sprinkle it with holy water.

Here are the prayers I composed for the occasion (along with the common for a monastic):

Troparion
A mighty prince relinquishes lands and titles;
A warrior of renown lays down his arms;
The defender of an earthly empire
Turns to a heavenly Kingdom.
Guilhèm forsakes all worldly fame
And follows the Savior into the desert,
Armed only with the Holy and Life-Giving Cross.
There he serves the Ruler of creation with all humility,
Conquers demons, and establishes a garden of virtues.
Bells on earth sing his ascent to Paradise;
“Tant fist en terre qu’es ciels est coronez.”*

* He did so much on earth that in heaven he was crowned.

Kontakion
O God, Defender of your people and hope of the faithful,
You gave your servant Guilhèm of Toulouse
To serve an earthly monarch and defend your Church.
Despising earthly honors, he reached out to Christ
That he might serve the Eternal King
And submitted to the yoke of monastic rule
That he might win a crown eternal in heaven.

Western Collect
O God, whose blessed Son became poor that we through his poverty might be rich: Deliver us from an inordinate love of this world, that we, inspired by the devotion of your servant Guilhèm, may serve you with singleness of heart, and attain to the riches of the age to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Holy Guilhèm, continue to pray for me, a sinner, and for us all.

Crossposted at Bearfeathers

While I'm Sharing Poetry

The Pleasing Boy

The pleasing boy
who played by the rules
earned the smug toleration
of the unimaginative—
not affection, respect, or love
(perhaps a quiet admiration
for his ability
to tolerate crap)

It’s not enough,
he concluded tardily,
and decided to take his soul back,
to color outside the lines
and follow his imagination,
to take risks and live
with the consequent failures
as well as exhilarating successes,
to let fly the snarky comment
and show disapproval
as well as bestow
the wonted compliments

He’s gone back to dancing
in streets and hallways,
singing out loud,
drawing on sidewalks with chalk,
naming bullshit,
laughing too loudly,
playing with children and elders—
and even the occasional midlifer
who has begun to wake up
and wants to play too



17 October 2003
(c) 2003 by PES

--the BB

Claire's Blessing

"Reflections" (c) 2001 by PES

This photo was one of those chance shots you get once in a while. It is looking at a print titled "Orchard" by David Smith Harrison. In the reflection one can glimpse oranges on a counter in front of blue tiles and in the distance a eucalyptus grove between the fir framing of the picture windows. The layers of reality and perception fascinated me and the camera was close at hand.

This experience and the resultant photograph shape the acrostic poem based on a birthday card from my friend Claire in 2002. She had written: “Paul, Stitcher Sower Maker Dancer of Life” (signed) C.

Blessed are those friends who evoke the better sides of us and blest are we to have them as friends.

Claire’s Blessing

Sunlight angles down the building faces,
Thin clouds dissolve in the summer morning.
I sit after late breakfast, observing strangers peopling
The avenue, thinking of friends old and new. A
Chained bicycle and I, motions paused—what roads
Have my wild, worn treads touched, what winds felt?
Each day a new stage of unpredictable journey,
Rife with detours, delights, disasters, discoveries.

Sound, sight, smell all pattern each moment—
Oh, the syrup scent in the Red Tractor! Traffic, voices,
Wind-rippled bottlebrush—the other faces
Eyes cannot see but projected in my mind, layering
Realities together. That time I looked at the false Cézanne

Mirrored in the glass of the “Orchard” print, citrus
Arranged casually on the counter, and securely
Kept at a distance, the unruly eucalyptus—
Energies, solid things, representations all at once
Reflecting light—sun, earth, the soul in interchange.

Dappled vision of shifting stuff, what depths and heights
And far-flung reaches penetrate my narrow moments!
Now I sit, poised amid these layered forces, wondering.
Chance and choice and universes will go into my next moment.
Entry to paradise: this moment, each moment—
Raw matter woven into eternal now and boundless bliss.

Oranges and cookie jars, walnut trees, blue tiles,
Farnesi windows, gum trees, fir window frames—all

Laced within each other, lover’s knot—place and
Infinity—sweet, sad singers of life’s song—
Fresh hopes, old aches—all this and
Everything reflected, held, expressed in my heart, and God’s.

August 16, 2002
--(c) 2002 by the BB, of course

Memories of Roses Past

Now that I am growing roses on my own for the very first time and enjoying the little thrills of excitement that come when each bare root bundle of twigs firsts puts out green shoots and then when I see buds forming and, finally, when a rose opens.... Well, it's time to toss a bit of joy and color in here - after all that deadly dull theology and ecclesiastical obsessions.

So here, with a tip of the hat to my beloved ex whose labors made these possible, are some garden shots from May of 2003.

This is Seraphim, the great bell of the garden. How I loved to take that rubber mallet and ring the Angelus for all the neighborhood to hear!

Fragrance to lift the soul!

And a nice gaudy flower to round it all out and cheer us up!

Praise the Creator for all growing things!
--the BB

Responses to the Draft Anglican Covenant

Unity, Vocation, Mission, Covenant

Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name—the name you gave me—so that they may be one as we are one. (John 17:11b)

Unity
Part of the glory, and certainly part of the frustration, of life in Christ is living in the tension between “already” and “not yet.”

We are blessed not only with promises but also with the realities of what God has done and is doing in and for and through us. The “realized eschatology” of Johannine thought is part of Christian experience. We proclaim as much in our eucharistic prayer when we say: “[in Christ] you have brought us out of error into truth, out of sin into righteousness, out of death into life.” God has already done all this and this is now part of the deepest truth of who we are.

We also struggle because though we have not yet attained the fullness of truth, righteousness, or life. We live “this side of glory” and know too well that we are “simul justus et peccator,” at once righteous and sinful. Like Abram and Sarai we have set out on a journey and the destination lies far ahead. In the meantime we journey by faith, stumbling often along the way, trusting not in our own devices but in the One who has called us to this adventure.

God had set us within the mystery of the divine life, a mystery into which we must live. That mystery is the life of the Holy Trinity, a life of immeasurably rich relationship. The eternal union of the Source of life, the Word of truth, and the Spirit of power lies at the heart of all our being and becoming, our identity and vocation, our mission and goal.

One aspect of the Trinity that has fascinated me is the topic of submission. We know that the Son submits to the will of the Father, yet we reject the idea of subordinationism. What do we mean?

I take it to mean that the Persons of the Trinity submit to each other as equals, yielding to each other not by fear or force but out of freedom, power, equality, mutuality, and love. There is nothing to prove because mutual love is a constant. Our human models of domination systems fail to grasp this kind of mutual yielding because they are not grounded in equality and mutuality. For one to have power means the other lacks it. Such is not the case with God.

If, then, we are to be one as Jesus and the Father are one, this is the model of our unity. This what we are called to: mutual submission out of freedom, power, equality, and love. It is not only our model and our calling, it is the deepest reality of our very being.

I affirm this on multiple grounds. Our understanding of creation proclaims God as creator of heaven and earth, a phrase that is meant to express all things. Whatever is exists by God’s creative and sustaining action. Furthermore, we join the courts of heaven to proclaim that heaven and earth are full of God’s glory. Everything. This proclamation considers no exceptions and we would be horrified if the liturgy were interrupted to enumerate where we deemed God’s glory to be absent.

Modern physics affirms what most ancient wisdom traditions have always known: that all things are intimately interrelated. Nothing in the physical universe as we know it is unrelated to everything else. Given our faith stance that the Trinity is the source and goal of all things and the Trinity is nothing if not Relationship Itself, the relatedness of the physical world makes perfect sense.

Marc Handley Andrus, Bishop of California, speaks to this reality and its import for our life together when he writes that, “our task in the Church is not actually to include or exclude anyone, but to show forth an intrinsic co-inherence that simply is, created and sustained by God." Co-inherence is a phrase we use to speak of the Trinity, a term coined to help us talk about the dynamic interplay of the Three Persons, so interrelated that one cannot speak of any one without the others. Andrus applies this to God’s creation, indeed, to human community. Whatever categories we apply to define, separate, or exclude, none of this changes the abiding reality of relatedness.

We are united not only by God’s creative action but also in God’s redemptive and sanctifying work, adopting us a children that we might share in Christ’s eternal sonship, sealing us by the Spirit and making us temples in which God dwells, thus taking us into the divine life on a deeper level.

United to God in Christ through the Holy Spirit, we are also united to one another, first in creation and then by the further grace or redemption. God calls a people and creates a community to further God’s purposes for creation. It is all about relationship. It is all about the divine love. All this is our reality, our given. We have been made one with Christ and one another.

Thus the “already.” Now we face the “not yet.” United to each other we must now journey together into God’s future (and ours). This is where it gets messy.

I write all this as preface to my reflection on the Anglican Communion and the issue of a Covenant because nothing I or anyone has to say about communion has any meaning outside the context of the lifegiving mystery of the Trinity and what God has done and is doing in and for and through us.

By varying combinations of historical accident, personal preference, and grace some of us find ourselves identifying with the Anglican tradition as the way we live out our calling, our mission, and our life in Christ.

The Anglican Communion and Anglican tradition are currently being tested and questioned. The unity given us by God is often distorted and denied in inter-Anglican quarrels and what is clearly a lessened and partially ruptured state of communion.

Vocation and Mission
Many have asserted that we risk losing sight of our vocation and mission while arguing over certain aspects of faith and practice. Most Anglicans yearn for the grace to move beyond our current pain and anxiety in order to refocus our efforts on proclaiming Good News and serving the world God loves. I am among them.

There is hope that looking through the lens of our call to serve might provide perspective to our quarrels and point a way forward. I would like to think so, though I am not particularly sanguine, given the passions that have been unleashed. I do not think I need to rehearse our calling as Christians beyond pointing to Christ’s solemn statement that “as the Father has sent me, so send I you.” We know what we need to be about.

What might our vocation and mission be as Anglicans? The introduction to the Draft Covenant speaks of “a special charism and identity among the many followers and servants of Jesus” without specifying what that charism and identity might be. My own perception is that the particular history of Christianity in the British Isles has gifted us with an emphasis on the incarnational and the pastoral. What has emerged over the ages is a church of pastors and poets, a broad church that is messy and meets almost nobody’s criteria, yet still feeds multitudes with the riches of Christ’s grace. We have, historically, been damned by Catholics and Puritans alike while preserving in our character elements of both. We have defined ourselves in terms of worship. If you would know what we believe, worship with us. In spite of globalization and local adaptations, the structure and character of Christian worship that hears the Scriptures, offers prayers, baptizes into Christ and makes Eucharist—all this is shared. Our essential faith is proclaimed in the Creeds and we find the Scriptures to contain what is necessary for salvation. The historic episcopate links us in time and space to the larger Body of Christ. We have found this sufficient.

I find being part of that larger body known as the Anglican Communion to be a wonderful experience—to worship in an Anglican manner, to be rooted in history and in grace, to have a style that proclaims God’s love without claiming to know everything, to invite rather than coerce, to be Catholic and Reformed, to have a tentative and respectful approach to everything. I think a certain humility and gentleness is part of our heritage, along with great passion and devotion. OK, maybe that’s just me.

One thing I am certain of: the Church exists for the sake of the world. “The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.” We serve God’s purpose of embracing all in the divine life and love.

It is the nature of love not to exist for itself. The Church cannot and must not proclaim itself but Christ. So then, if the Anglican Communion seeks to save its own life, it will surely lose it. The Communion is to be an instrument of God’s grace, not an idol. Whether the Anglican Communion survives may matter to us but it is really of minor consequence next to the question of whether the Gospel continues to be lived and proclaimed.

Can we, as a communion, serve the mission to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ? At the moment we are not doing a very good job of unity with each other. Will a Covenant help?

Covenant
(1) Do you think an Anglican Covenant is necessary and/or will help to strengthen the interdependent life of the Anglican Communion? Why or why not?

The Anglican Communion has existed for some time without a Covenant and I cannot see its necessity. It would not convincingly help proclaim the Gospel more effectively, offer God’s love to the world, or help us grow more Christ-like. It might play a role in maintaining unity and peace, though this is open to question. Given the purposes of the Covenant as expressed in its Preamble, it appears mostly as a superfluity. Its emphasis on the role of bishops—to the virtual negligence of deacons, priests, and, most importantly, the laity—suggests a form of hierarchicalism that is most unwelcome. If the Holy Trinity is not only our ground and goal but also our model of relationship, then distinctive roles must be balanced with mutuality and equality. There is something about the document as a whole that speaks more of instruments and less of charity. I do not see it fostering greater trust.

(2) How closely does this view of communion accord with your understanding of the development and vocation of the Anglican Communion?

It smacks of cherishing the Church more than the world God loves. I believe our vocation as Christians and Anglicans is to lose our life for the sake of Christ and his Good News, not to save it. What comes across in the details is too great an obsession with how we are with one another and not enough focus on how we are with God and God’s world. It does not appear to come from a spirit of prayer and deep listening. I think it misses our vocation by a wide mark.

(3) Is this a sufficient rationale for entering into a Covenant? Why or why not?

See comments on #1 above.

(4) Do these six affirmations adequately describe The Episcopal Church’s understanding of “common catholicity, apostolicity, and confession of faith”? Why or why not?

Section 2 (The Life We Share) reaffirms the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral then makes some additions. In item (5) it says that “led by the Holy Spirit, it has borne witness to Christian truth in its historic formularies, the Thirty-nine Article of Religion, the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, and the Ordering of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons.” We are informed in a footnote that: “This is not meant to exclude other Books of Common Prayer and Ordinals … but acknowledges the foundational nature of the [BCP] 1662 in the life of the Communion.”

This is a rather puzzling item. Why would it be added to the articles of the Quadrilateral? The 39 Articles, while not creedal, played a role in 16th century disputation. Even in England, subscription to them has been attenuated over time. That they are part of Anglican theological history is undeniable but why would they be elevated for mention in a covenant? They cannot at this time be considered foundational so I cannot see them belonging in a covenant.

The 1662 BCP was the historic starting point for the diverse provinces of the Communion, yet special care was taken by the first province to separate from England, The Episcopal Church, in adopting a Eucharistic prayer based on the Scottish model. The Scottish rite was used for political reasons yet it could legitimately claim to rectify a defect in orthodoxy, the omission of an epiclesis in the 1662 BCP. Again, why should this particular edition of the BCP be so privileged as to be mentioned on a par with the points of the Quadrilateral.

What is being added? And why? Is this an attempt to bring contemporary theology in line with the Articles, constraining thought to issues of an earlier era? Or to pressure current liturgies to conform more to a theology and practice that retains the medieval emphasis on atonement while ignoring the past two centuries of liturgical scholarship and the restoration of Paschal, baptismal, and missional emphases from the early Church? Is it an attempt to privilege one approach to understanding atonement? Or to curb the involvement of the whole People of God in favor or returning to the clericalism of an earlier era? Or is it merely a fond tribute? I cannot tell but I see no reason to include it. Again, no matter how influential, a single edition of the BCP cannot be foundational in the way that our principles of worship are and for that I would refer us all to the Preface of the 1549 BCP rather than to any one embodiment of those principles.

(5) The Thirty-nine Articles of Religion and the 1662 Book of Common Prayer (of the Church of England) are not currently authoritative documents for The Episcopal Church. Do you think they should be? Why or why not?

See response (4) above.

(6) Is each of these commitments clear and understandable with respect to what is being asked of the member churches and are they consistent with statements and actions made by the Episcopal Church in the General Convention? Why or why not?

These items completely bypass the issue of hermeneutics.

In the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Presidential Address at General Synod on February 26, 2007, he noted: “the proposal has been made – partly stimulated by the very successful international consultations held at Coventry Cathedral in the last twelve months – of a serious and sustained piece of work for the Communion on hermeneutics, the theory and practice of biblical interpretation. Combined with the ongoing and very creative programme of the working group on Theological Education in the Communion, it has the potential to take us beyond what I called the non-labour-intensive theologies we see too much of at the moment.”

Until we do our homework and find a common vocabulary for interpreting Scripture (especially, but tradition as well), it will be impossible to mean and understand the same things when discussing what is continuous and consistent or what is biblically derived.
While I can grasp the concept of “a vision of humanity,” I have no idea what that means when modified by the phrase “received by and developed in the communion of member Churches.” Anthropological and sociological studies will demonstrate the historical and cultural colorations of our understandings of what it means to be a human being. As Christians, we inform our various understandings of humanity by seeing Christ as the fullness of humanity toward which we tend. Still, what does “received and developed in the communion of the member churches” mean? Amplitude and some vagueness or ambiguity in agreements can provide room for interpretation and application and this can often be desirable. But vagueness to the point of incomprehensibility is not helpful.

Section 3.(3) speaks of biblical texts handled “primarily through the teaching and initiative of bishops and synods.” In a world where bishops are chosen for their theological abilities among other criteria this might be a good idea. Though we all look for theological gifts in potential bishops, this usually falls rather low in the laundry lists of what people expect nowadays. If one wishes to invoke the 39 Articles, Article XXI has something to say about councils. I definitely wish to see laity and non-episcopal clergy participating in issues of interpretation, including those skilled in theology and biblical interpretation who might not be bishops. Put simply, I cannot entrust the faith to one order.

Without any criteria for discernment, how are we to “nurture and respond to prophetic and faithful leadership and ministry”? Who says what those are? This is either meaningless or deceptive. The concepts are wonderful but without more context it is pious blather.

(7) Is the mission vision offered here helpful in advancing a common life of the Anglican Communion and does this need to be a part of the Draft Covenant? Why or why not?

More platitudes, rather self-congratulatory, mostly superfluous verbiage. The final five-point sense of mission is great. You could cut all that precedes “we commit ourselves 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.” THIS is where our energy should be directed!

What does “with mutual accountability” mean? This seems to be the whole purpose of a Covenant for the Communion but it’s tossed in here without anything to make it meaningful. As above: more platitudes.

(8) Does this section adequately describe your understanding of the history and respective roles of the “Four Instruments of Communion”? Why or why not?

If, as the document affirms, we are “bound together, not juridically by a central legislative or executive authority, but by the Holy Spirit who calls and enables us to live in mutual loyalty and service,” then I would allow that to govern the rest. Well, first I would amend it to “mutual affection and service.” I would prefer to keep my loyalty focused on God, for whose sake I love the Church.

Let the Lambeth Conference gather “bishops for common counsel, consultation and encouragement.” For heaven’s sake can we add “study and prayer” to the list? Now, what does it mean to call it “an instrument in guarding the faith and unity of the Communion”? Bishops consult—and shout and denounce each other and act hatefully too, because they did all of that in 1998—on matters of faith and practice. Carefully worked out documents get dropped at the last minute and replaced with hastily crafted substitutes. Until the bishops can behave better than this I am not likely to recognize what they produce as of the Spirit or worthy of more consideration than any comment I come across on the internet. Take it for what it’s worth, no more, no less.

The Primate’s Meeting, the most recent “instrument,” is here described quite vaguely. Mutual support and counsel are quite understandable. Monitoring global developments makes sense. What does it mean that it “works in full collaboration in doctrinal, moral and pastoral matters that have Communion-wide implications”? Full collaboration with whom? Each other? Questionable at the moment. We have never been an especially doctrinal branch of Christendom. Unless someone is jettisoning the Creed do we really want a group of primates producing a new set of Articles defining what must or must not be believed? What ever happened to adiaphora?

Since the Primates are a narrower slice of one order than Lambeth, why should they have more influence than Lambeth? And how much influence does/should Lambeth have? We must remember that authority, in this Communion, has traditionally been recognized by honor and influence, never by legislation of fiat. We take what Cantuar says seriously, but he has no jurisdiction outside England beyond a few extra-provincial dioceses. Assent and reception are our methods, not imposition.

No matter what has been said disclaiming intentions to set up a Roman-style curia, the actions and attitudes of the Primates reeks of curialism and it is not a sweet savor. That they should presume to deliver an ultimatum and deadline to the bishops of a province is clearly a coercive action, especially when they know full well that said bishops cannot, on their own, speak for their province.

Power and control are not Christ’s methods. What kind of mutuality are we truly seeking?

The ACC is the most representative body, and the one with the most authorization, and all that is said of it is that it “co-ordinates aspects of international Anglican ecumenical and mission work.”

(9) Do you think there needs to be an executive or judicial body for resolving disagreements or disputes in the Anglican Communion? If so, do you think it should be the Primates Meeting as recommended by the Draft Covenant? Explain.

Back to hermeneutics. 6.(3) How are we defining “the Church’s shared councils” and what constitutes “matters of essential concern?” Until we get our hermeneutics straightened out we are talking past each other with words that do not have shared understandings.
The Primates Meeting is the last place to send these matters. It is not sufficiently representative, it centralizes power, it has NO checks and balances, and there is no appeal.

(10) What does the phrase “a common mind about matters of essential concern. . .”
mean to you?

Our way of the highway.
Without guidelines for discerning what is essential, it is meaningless.

(11) Can you affirm the “fundamental shape” of the Draft Covenant? Why or why not?

This is a secular structure that lacks the spirit of Christ and the air of God’s reign. It appears to seek uniformity disguised as unity. There is nothing about it that evokes a sense of life, liberation, servanthood, or joy. It smacks of desperation and haste.
I would propose that at the next Lambeth the bishops spend all their time in prayer, study, conversation, and silence. No votes could be taken on anything. At the end they could articulate what they learned from each other. This applies, a fortiori, to the Primates. We could all use some quiet.

(12) What do you think are the consequences of signing such a Covenant as proposed in the Draft?

I do not see it as an organic development of Anglican theology, polity, or style; nor as a particularly Christian document (Bible references notwithstanding) but more as a tool of governance. I could never sign it as an individual, even with the good things it does include (which I have sometimes referred to above as platitudes because they seem either irrelevant to the document or are devoid of context to give them practical meaning).

(13) Having read the Draft Covenant as a whole do you agree with the CDG’s assertion that “nothing which is commended in the draft text of the Covenant can be said to be ‘new’”? Why or why not?

Asserting any authority of Primates beyond their provinces seems an unwarranted and undesirable innovation to me, and one that ignores the Articles. Holding up the 1662 BCP for the whole Communion seems bizarre and unhelpful. The shift to a global church from a “federation” of autonomous provinces is clearly a reversal of the whole trajectory of freedom from ecclesial colonialism to independent national churches. The whole document implies, to me, a lack of trust in the Spirit and fellow Christians, and that would be an innovation on the Gospel.

(14) In general, what is your response to the Draft Covenant taken as a whole? What is helpful in the draft? What is not-helpful? What is missing? Additional comments?

I heartily second the comments on this made by the New York GC Deputation on the Draft Covenant. They have said it all better than I could possibly do.

I also agree with Bishop David Russell, Bishop of Grahamstown, South Africa (Retired) when he says the covenant process is skipping over prior questions.

[If you read this to the end, may future generations rise up and call you blessed. Or dogged.]

Who's in? Who's out?

... and does God give a rat's rear end how we categorize? [Hint: I doubt it.]

Another crossposting: my chance to spout off about the disgraceful battles in the Anglican Communion.

In my sixty years I cannot recall ever being part of a congregation where I agreed with everything that was taught or done, even when I was the priest in charge (since the congregation was not an autocracy). Certainly there were situations where I felt more or less comfortable, thus I affiliated where my participation could be more wholehearted than it might be elsewhere. When it comes to my ability to worship, I try to keep focused on whom I worship, and that is always God and never the Church.

This has meant violating all manner of technicalities, such as when I attended Mass at Nôtre Dame de Paris as a student in 1967. At that time I was formally a Baptist but a very sacramental one and I took Communion, fully aware of the Roman Catholic position on what I was doing. No one else knew that, so the conscience of the priests could remain uncompromised. I certainly did not believe everything the Catholic Church taught and practiced, though I did believe in the Real Presence and quietly insisted on my right to be fed with Christ.

Since then I have worshiped in a far greater variety of circumstances, keeping my heart focused on the presence of God. [This includes sitting on the earth during sacred pueblo dances, joining in prayers at a mosque, listening to hours of song in a Sikh gurdwara, and rejoicing in the marriage of friends in a synagogue.]

Many persons have experienced superficial welcome in churches where the spoken "how wonderful to have you with us" is accompanied by an unspoken "so long as you are and act like our kind of people." What "our kind of people" is varies from time to time and place to place. I felt it when I arrived at the Anglican cathedral in Cuernavaca, Mexico, as the English service ended. When the English-speaking ex-pats at the door realized my friend and I had come for the Spanish service the warmth in their welcome froze over in an instant. We were clearly not their kind of people. The welcome we received from the Mexican congregants there, however, was warm and genuine.

So I find that we all need to work on the nature of our hospitality. We shall never match the gracious welcome of God, nor shall we ever perfectly embody the work of God's reign. Still, we cannot cease striving to do so.

Were Jesus not a social activist he would have had far fewer conflicts with religious and political authorities. His refusal to dissociate himself from sinners shocked the righteous and his concern for the poor and the powerless--in clear conformity with the tradition of the Torah, the prophets, and the writings--did not sit well with social and political structures of his time. Social activism in churches is not the issue, so the crux must lie elsewhere, perhaps in our tendencies to exclude those "not like us."

There are clear divides in how people understand the Good News of God in Christ: how they do theology, how they understand scripture, how they practice spirituality, how they proclaim Gospel.

I am one who came to the Episcopal Church and found The Book of Common Prayer and the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral a very comfortable framework in which to be Christian. Within that framework I can comfortably worship and join in mission and ministry with others, whether I agree with their theology, piety, or politics or not. Adding new criteria for being orthodox or Anglican makes it harder for all of us to get along and be about "kingdom work," and this would be true whether one's new criteria be "conservative" or "liberal" or "other (specify)."

I recall one Lent when I was in the church parking lot, hosing down palm branches that would decorate the church for Palm Sunday. Some Jehovah's Witnesses came by and asked whether I thought everyone would worship the same way in heaven. What an odd question! As my best friend commented, "Why on earth would God desire that? It would be like a symphony with only one type of instrument."

Now, some of us are especially fond of brass, others of winds, some of strings, yet others of percussion. All play a part. Music lovers include those who are into chamber music, vast romantic symphonies, dixieland, hip hop, chant, and the incredible varieties of music across the globe. To me, this variety is a great gift of a gracious God. I have my own strong preferences and dislikes. You will find me either shaking my body to "world music" with its polyrhythms or grooving on Bach rather than listening to rap or heavy metal. Similarly, I will usually be worshiping in a context where a strong emphasis on the sacraments and the mystery of the Trinity blend with very liberal social views. That's where I fit in. But I see no need
to disdain or excommunicate those whose expression of Good News and personal comfort zone differ.

A reality of our limitations and brokenness (and yes, let's include our willful proclivity to sin) means that we will not be comfortable in every situation. Can we avoid demonizing each other and reinforcing polarization? Anglicanism has traditionally been very broad, and consequently damned by Catholics and Puritans, though it can accommodate great variety in both those directions. I would like to think we can provide a broad enough umbrella for Christians of many styles to flourish in its shade. This may be one of the reasons we have been gifted with an image of a local church that is not the parish but the diocese. A variety of congregations within a diocese allow us to sort out where we thrive best. There is no reason these congregations should all be alike, think alike, or minister alike, because God has not made us all alike.

I sympathize with those who sense that there are churches where they would not feel welcome no matter how warm the greetings at the door. I have experienced the same reality in many settings.

I recall an older woman standing up at a parish meeting (in another state) and saying "everyone who comes in those doors and wants to worship with us is welcome." As frustratingly vague as that might sound at times and as imperfectly lived as it was, we all knew she had spoken of the God-given reality we yearn for and could agree on.

When it is my part to open that door and speak welcome, I try to embody God's welcome to all. Conversely, when I am the one coming in a church door, I try to remember God's welcome. The welcome I give and the one I receive will both be imperfect, but they all are grounded in and challenged by God's welcome. I want to put my energy on what God is up to.

On a larger level, several provinces of the Anglican Communion have already declared they are not in communion with a huge portion of the Episcopal Church. Since, so far, the provinces are autonomous, they cannot yet enforce an interdict, though this means that I, by their definitions, have already been excommunicated in some parts of the world.

I, as a proud liberal, cast my lot with Edwin Markham.

EDWIN MARKHAM:
He drew a circle that shut me out --
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.

Returning to the title of this post, I wish to cite my bishop, the Rt. Rev. Marc Handley Andrus, eighth Bishop of California. In response to the communiqué of the Primates in Dar es Salaam, he wrote the following:

"... our task in the Church is not actually to include or exclude anyone, but to show forth an intrinsic co-inherence that simply is, created and sustained by God."

THAT is grounded in the lifegiving mystery of the Most Holy Trinity: our source, our goal, the ground of our being and becoming. Preach it, Bishop!

-the BB

My residual Protestantism

I admit it creeped me out to type the title of this post. There is something so inherently sacramental about me that I find it uncomfortable to think of myself as a Protestant. "Reformed Catholic" is a much more comfortable category, though nowadays I really prefer Byzigenous Buddhapalian (if I must accept a label at all). I was always a "crypto-Catholic" growing up in a Protestant context. I didn't sneak off to get ashes on Ash Wednesday or attend midnight Mass on Christmas Eve; I went quite openly. Not very Baptist behavior. The following comments are from a post I did elsewhere.

I was raised as a very conservative Baptist exposed to a variety of fundamentalists (in the traditional and technical sense of the word).

Of course, back when I was young Baptists still proclaimed "soul freedom"* with nobody getting between the individual and God. It was a great theory, though in most congregations whatever the pastor said was believed as though it had come directly from Sinai graven in stone. The phenomenological reality was that all the authorities were local, each pastor a primate among his (and they were all male, with women serving as DRE, running the missions, or else keeping silent in the church) own little, or large, flock.

Since "this world is not my home, I'm just a passing through," contextualism and history counted for little. "God said it. I believe it. That settles it." -- as the bumper sticker so beautifully summarizes the approach. This makes reasoned discussion a tad challenging.

Once I discovered the Episcopal Church, which answered my need for sacramentality, historicity, poetry of the soul, and the exercise of reason, I had almost no regret leaving my religious past behind. Deep scriptural rootedness came with me, just as knowing canticles by heart and being immersed in the theology of The Book of Common Prayer can carry me almost unconsciously now.

I did learn in Baptist seminary days that "a text without a context is a pretext," so that within me which is still protestant and individualist will always question what I hear and read, and test it against my own experience. This is precisely why although I was surrounded by fundamentalists I could never be one.

Added note: The quintessential Berkeley bumper sticker reads: "QUESTION AUTHORITY." As years have gone by this seems less the radical screed of The People's Republic of Berkeley and more a moral imperative.

-the BB

* "Soul Freedom" as described in Wikipedia:
Individual soul liberty

The basic concept of individual soul liberty is that, in matters of religion, each person has the liberty to choose what his/her conscience or soul dictates is right, and is responsible to no one but God for the decision that is made. A person may then choose to be a Baptist, a member of another Christian denomination, an adherent to another world religion, or to choose no religious belief system, and neither the church, nor the government, nor family or friends may either make the decision or compel the person to choose otherwise.

When it gets this bad

He's lied to Congress. He has made the United States Department of Justice into a shambles. He has supported illegal wiretaps and torture and called the Geneva Convention "quaint." The resident of the Oval Office won't fire him. Maybe We the People of the United States can help Congress get a spine.



Go to Impeach Gonzales and join me in signing the petition.

In the hope of restoring justice to the land, I thank you.
- the BB

Tears and Sunshine

Pentecost 2007.

I have reached the age where the church year, like the civil year, seems to rush by. How did Pentecost get here so quickly? The usual way, of course.

The Spirit is notoriously dynamic: bringing forth life, enticing it into incredible diversity while also linking everything in levels of relatedness beyond comprehension, teeasing order out of chaor and then disrupting things again for the sake of new possibilities.

Today I am totally disrupted.

For whatever reason I have been "tender-hearted" all day long. This Memorial Day has been troubling; not that any Memorial Day is easy. It is a time we do our loving by grieving, by remembering, by acknowledging the wonders of lives lived and loss sustained... and enduring. The continuing loss of lives in an "optional" war that was based on and sold with lies, the senseless slaughter that my beloved nation has triggered - it is hard to contemplate.

So I found myself a bit teary this morning. As I drove to church an incredibly beautiful piece of music that I have never before encountered was playing. It was a blend of various styles and languages, shifting through the English choral tradition and Middle Eastern and African elements. I wept while driving, grateful for the tissues in the car.

Church, of course, if a natural and favorite place for a good cry. Joy, sorrow, and anything in between - they can all come together in that safe space where environment, music, ritual, symbol all speak in ways we do not ordinarily communicate. So there were several points in the liturgy when I was on the verge. After Communion I lost it, weeping for the dead and dying, the injured and grieving, for prisoners and refugees, for the sick, the lost, the screwed up - in short, for all of us.

I had a quiet space this afternoon, working on an icon of Guilhem of Gellone. Then I returned to my habitual reading of mostly political blogs. I had already pondered the list of the dead at one source, then came across Trudeau's annual tribute in Doonesbury. Diaries, articles, photographs, musings of varying sorts. More tears.

It might help to let my readers know that having gone through a big chunk of depression I am now rather delighted to feel my feelings. Whether I am angry or sad or anxious or frightened or excited, it is a good sign that I feel and know that I am feeling and what I am feeling. So a day of tears is a fine thing, a sign of life.

The most recent torrent this evening came from a mix of memory and horror.

Stopping at Mahablog I saw Barbara's Memorial Day posting with two snippets from the tribal rock musical "Hair" (see below).

We all have certain events in our lives that get linked to other events and emotions and thereafter act almost as "hooks" on which we can hang ideas, memories, and feelings. Popular culture plays a huge part in this. "Hair" is one of those events for me.

One needs to imagine a repressed Baptist youth who reads about exotic experiments in theatre - the kinds of things that happen on Broadway and off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway, but not usually anywhere near me. "O Calcutta" comes to mind. I had read about "Hair" when it came out in 1968, the year I graduated from college and Vietnam was a very hot topic. When "Hair" came to Hollywood I got tickets at the Aquarius Theatre and saw it. Twice. I danced on stage with the cast and authors at the end of the performance. Bought the album and the sheet music. Memorized all the songs and used to sing them in the shower at the dorm in grad school.

From the moment the cast crawled, oozed, swung, climbed, and descended from everywhere in the theatre onto a stage with no curtain, I knew I was in for a treat. Being a theatre lover, I was exhilarated by seeing all sorts of conventions stretched. Having Cubby O'Brien, former Mouseketeer, heading up the band was another nice touch. In your face, Uncle Walt!

"Hair" captured a lot of the rage and fear, questioning of authority and grappling toward alternatives, creativity and outrageousness of the time and of my generation. (Yes, children, we used to be outrageous. In that context, anyway.) Amid the refrain of "beads, flowers, freedom, happiness" lay the ever-present reality of Vietnam.

Maha brings it all back.

Let the Sunshine In
Filed under: entertainment and popular culture — maha @ 9:39 pm
I’ve been looking for an appropriate Memorial Day video. The best I could come up with are a couple of clips from the 1979 film version of Hair, which was actually pretty good even though only about 36 people went to see it in theaters.

[snip]

Here’s the last scene of the film. Berger takes Claude’s place in training camp — temporarily, he thought — so that Claude (John Savage) can go on a picnic. The rest is self-explanatory.

When the opening notes of "Flesh failures" began [text = "We starve / look at one another...."], the sum of emotions I associate with the musical all flooded in and I sang along, sobbing. The kick in the gut came with the line "Listening for the new-told lies."

The new-told lies, of course, are the same old lies simply told anew. The horror that we are re-enacting so much of the folly and falsehood of the Vietnam era washed over me.

Yesterday I heard on the radio a snippet from Cheney's speech at West Point. My normal mode upon hearing Bush or Cheney is to become instantly apoplectic, turning red in the face as I scream at the radio while changing stations. This time I was more sickened than enraged. The blatant lying to our future officers felt as though I were facing a tsunami of evil.

As we look to the future, I want to say this to the graduates, and to all the men and women of the Corps, and to the families gathered in this stadium today: Whatever lies ahead, the United States Army will have all the equipment, supplies, manpower, training, and support essential to victory. I give you this assurance on behalf of the President. You soldier for him, and he will soldier for you. (Applause.)

These, of course, are our future soldiers. They know when to applaud (or the White House web site knows when to indicate that applause happened). What I wanted was to learn that a huge chorus of "Liar!" erupted. But it did not, though one of the most egregious of bald-faced lies (in these days of mass official deception) had just come out of the Great White Satan's mouth.

The conclusion of "Hair" - as the clip shows - is a reprise of "Let the Sunshine In." Fitting. That is what this nation desperately needs: a megadose of sunshine so We the People can know the truth, so falsehoods can be revealed for what they are, so corruption can be purged, and our Constitution be restored.

As we say of the dead in the Western Christian tradition: Rest eternal grant to them, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon them. For those who now walk the star path, may they bask in the uncreated Light. For those of us who walk below the stars, may sunshine pour in.

My thanks to all who have served or will serve this country in our armed forces (and in all other capacities). To our troops now serving: you have love and respect, and even though the White House and far too many members of Congress have not given you the training, equipment, protection, benefits, and ongoing care that you need - not to mention leadership at the highest level and a mission and strategy worthy of your efforts - we who cry loudest for the Iraq occupation to end want you supported, cared for, and we look forward to welcoming you home.

Peace.
-The BB