Posted in Anglican Communion, Church of England, Lambeth Conference

Being orthodox at the Lambeth Conference

No-one has ever agreed on what it means to be orthodox, and that’s a good thing. Ever since the resurrection of Jesus, his disciples have been trying to work out what it means to follow him faithfully. As the world changes, the church has to try to discern how it should live and believe in a new context.

I firmly believe that every bishop attending the Lambeth Conference is orthodox. Every single one is trying to discern what it means to be a faithful follower of Jesus, and to enable the church to do the same thing.

So what do orthodox bishops do, who are being told by others that they are not? As one who isn’t present (and might not dare to say this if I were), could I make two suggestions?

Firstly, don’t accept the terminology, if you know yourself to be an orthodox Christian believer, say so. Courteously and clearly, don’t let yourself be defined by others. If enough people claim it as an identity it will no longer function as a badge for one part against another.

And secondly, even more difficult, there’s the question of how to respond to those who are declining to receive communion. For a gathering of the Anglican Communion’s bishops not to gather around the Lord’s table makes a mockery of the word ‘Communion’. Just to keep on as if nothing is happening fails to recognise the pain of the division within the Anglican family. So with trepidation, could I suggest that all orthodox bishops – that is, all bishops – refrain from receiving communion? That would be a powerful sign of the pain of our dividedness, one in which we all share, whether we are at Lambeth or not.

Posted in Anglican Communion

Living in Anglican Communion

This is a sermon I preached last week at evensong at Hertford College, Oxford – hence a few local references. Sorry it’s a bit long, but it’s a big topic!

I have spent the last week in Canterbury, at the conference for new bishops. We were a diverse group – 26 of us from Ghana, Nigeria, Botswana, Kenya, South Sudan, India, Myanmar, Korea, Australia, New Zealand, Solomon Islands, Canada, Jamaica, Uruguay, Portugal, Ireland, Scotland and England. We came from countries which are mostly Christian, and from those in which Christians are a small minority. We represented churches which are large canterburyand small, growing and declining. Some of us were committed evangelicals, others convinced Anglo-Catholics. Probably eleven of us had English as our first language (I didn’t go around asking!). And there we were for a week together in Canterbury, the home and hub of the Anglican Communion, experiencing first hand both the solidity and history of its tradition in the cathedral and its worship, and also the difference and diversity of Anglicanism as it has spread and mutated across the world.
It was quite a disconcerting experience. The first thought I was wrestling with was this: apart from the fact that we all have some sort of common inheritance, why are we all here? Why am I here? It was like an ecclesiastical version of ‘Who do you think you are?’ – look, this is your family, these are your ancestors. Now: who are you?
Compared to some, I already have quite a lot of experience of Anglicanism worldwide – through family in Canada, through visits to the diocese with whom we are linked in Zimbabwe, through visits to dioceses in Chile and the USA, and churches in Israel/Palestine. But this experience made me ask even more: what does my identity mean as an Anglican in the context of this worldwide communion? A proper answer can’t just ignore all the bits that are different or far away; they too are part of the whole pattern which defines my Anglican identity. So not just, ‘who are you?’, but what are we – what is Anglicanism?
Is it: erudite, cool evensong and sermon; worship songs at St Aldates; scriptural exposition at St Ebbes or exposition of the Blessed Sacrament at Pusey House? Or the Melanesian Brotherhood, seven of whose brothers were martyred in 2003 while trying to bring peace; or the work of repentance and restitution among those First Nation people who were sent to residential schools in Canada in which their language and culture were denied; or negotiating with the World Food Programme in South Sudan to feed displaced people; or providing a hostel for HIV/AIDS sufferers in Uruguay; or planting new churches in Kenya?
St Michael KwekweHow do you hold all of those together? Well, the one clear negative answer is doctrine. The Anglican Communion, like the Church of England, encompasses people of pretty much every shade of Christian belief and doubt. One statement which is used as a pointed towards Anglican identity is what is known as the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral – having been invented in the US, agreed on by the Lambeth Conference in 1888, and having four parts, that is
(a) The Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, as “containing all things necessary to salvation,” and as being the rule and ultimate standard of faith.
(b) The Apostles’ Creed, as the Baptismal Symbol; and the Nicene Creed, as the sufficient statement of the Christian faith.
(c) The two Sacraments ordained by Christ Himself — Baptism and the Supper of the Lord — ministered with unfailing use of Christ’s Words of Institution, and of the elements ordained by Him.
(d) The Historic Episcopate, locally adapted in the methods of its administration to the varying needs of the nations and peoples called of God into the Unity of His Church.
Those four characteristics might explain where we come from, and provide a useful frame within which we work. Certainly if you didn’t have one of those you wouldn’t be an Anglican church. But – and this was the whole point – they would also describe perfectly well many other Christian churches and communities. The Quadrilateral was supposed to provide a springboard towards unity, not a description of what was Anglicanism.
Another attempt to define Anglicanism offered two qualities: ‘a readiness to be ‘located’ in a particular culture, place, and time, and an acceptance of internal pluralism’ . Together, these two indicate a distinctive quality which is precisely the quality of being different – of adapting to a local context, and living with the divergences and differences that that adaptation throws up. It might be then that the distinctive quality of Anglicanism is only to be found when the huge variety I listed earlier is evident, and therefore that the diminishing of that variety necessarily also reduces Anglicanism to be no longer fully itself.
And that is the anxiety which I felt during my time in Canterbury particularly acutely – that it is becoming more and more difficult for Anglicanism to retain that acceptance of pluralism – perhaps particularly as it becomes more and more definitely located in its different cultures and places. One of the conversations I had with my fellow bishops from around the world, in their different contexts, was about the border line between inculturation and syncretism: that is to say, when does Christian faith move from locating itself within a particular culture, and begin to change its very nature in order to fit in.
That of course was the very large elephant in the room. Some of us in Canterbury were among those who see the church’s acceptance of same-sex relationships as a threat to the whole life and order of the church – a fundamental question of faith about which there can be no compromise, no flexibility. Others of us felt very differently, that Christian support of loving, faithful relationships should be extended to people regardless of their sexuality. What some see as incarnational witness, others see as syncretistic betrayal. So proponents of all the different views argue in different ways, with complete conviction that they are remaining faithful to the tradition of Christian faith. We may all be family, but we look like we might be one in which various relatives are about to disown others.
The Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral is not going to help this fractious family – everyone could declare themselves completely signed up to every clause, and the things we argue about would not go away. It’s not about that: it’s about the strain between the local and the universal. Anglicans are trying to get better at being the local church in the different places where they are, but in doing so they are stretching ever further the ties of commonality which enable global mutual recognition.
Sermons are supposed to end by tying all the ends together, making a satisfying resolution which leaves the hearers inspired, or reassured, or whatever effect the preacher was trying to create. You can imagine that it’s not going to happen tonight. If I were able to propose a neat solution to the Anglican Communion’s problems, it might also provide a formula for world peace which would put me straight in line for the Nobel Peace Prize. There is no neat solution; the only solution I can see is to cease to worry so much about the mess. That is to say, the only way to stay together as we become increasingly local, is at the same time to become increasingly able to hold an ever greater ‘generous orthodoxy’.
You may have been wondering when God would get a look in to this sermon. Finally we have reached that point, because what I am suggesting is a deeply theological move in the Anglican understanding of church. Just as the increasing desire to be ‘located’ has obvious analogies to the doctrine of the incarnation, I think that the church can only incorporate that increasing diversity by a (perhaps less obvious) fresh understanding of the transcendence of God.
The old story goes of three clergy (any assortment will do) who meet on a train journey, and end up talking to one another about their different churches’ patterns of worship. Maybe they’re trying to get to the West Country, because they have plenty of time. Eventually they reach a stop, and one gets out saying: ‘Thank you for such a fascinating conversation. It is wonderful to me that we are part of such a diverse and fascinating church. I pray that you will each continue to worship God on your way, and we will continue to worship Him in His.’
I think we need a renewed appreciation of the practical consequences of belief in a transcendent God. If God is transcendent, then God transcends us – transcends our understanding in every way. In God’s grace and through Christ’s incarnation, we are invited into a relationship of love, but the relationship of understanding only goes one way. As St Paul puts it, ‘then – that is after the end of this world – I will know fully, even as I have been fully known’. Taken seriously, that means that we cannot judge one another on our understanding of God; we can only help one another by sharing what insights we think we have gleaned. Our doctrinal differences meet, like parallel lines, only at infinity – the eternity of God. A framework like the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral then begins to make sense, not as a definition of what Anglicanism is, but as a set of boundaries which point to where it isn’t. Within that space, the differences between us are differences within the church, not differences which can divide it.
If we can begin to attain this doctrinal humility, we will be pushed back into that which did in fact make my experience at Canterbury a powerful and moving one: meeting with other men and women in whom I experienced the same desire to follow Christ. It can’t be neatly conceptualised and packaged, and it’s not easily susceptible to doctrinal evaluation, but it is in the encounter of people – an opening to one another in community – that we discover our true unity. As we ate, and prayed, and talked together we knew that we were part of the church which is the body of Christ.

Posted in Church of England

Bearing with one another in love – but without a Covenant

Paul wrote (I’m quite a traditionalist on the authorship of Colossians):

As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.

Which is his way of saying some of the things that the Archbishop of Canterbury said in commending the Anglican Covenant. Mutual accountability, and therefore a structure for conversing with each other about new or difficult questions in the church, are surely part of what it means to love one another in the body of Christ.

I doubt if any of those voting against the Covenant in the dioceses of the Church of England were voting against those principles. But as a church, we have now voted against that means of making them concrete – enough among us felt that the Covenant would not in fact deliver the dialogic co-operation that the Archbishop was talking about, but instead be a battleground for groups trying to seize power over others.

So what now? I wonder if we’ve been doing this on to grand a scale – it’s difficult to translate the words of Paul to the Colossians into a document which tries to encompass all the Provinces of the Anglican Communion. At the same time, new triangular relationships have been growing between dioceses of different Provinces, bringing together bishops, clergy and lay people in personal encounter and shared worship. I haven’t (yet) been part of one, but it seems that there the seeds of covenant are growing in a mutual accountability which comes from an understanding of difference along with a common sense of sharing in the same gospel.

It’s not something that can be dictated – but maybe it can be sown. If we can learn to love each other across unresolved differences, then we’re really doing the church’s work.

PS If you’re wondering how I voted: the issue was voted on in Southwark while I was still in London, and in London after I’d moved to Southwark.

Posted in Church of England

Outbreak of Christianity!

The Archbishop of Canterbury has written to the Primates of the Anglican Communion (we’ll have to find another name for it, soon, I fear). It is the mark of someone who truly has their vision on the things that matter, that their judgement still proves true when the situation changes. In the light of the disaster in Japan yesterday, it is a sign of the Archbishop’s vision that his letter focuses in part on the crucial importance of the Church’s response to natural disaster. He of course did not know that the earthquake was about to strike. That’s exactly the point; he was able to mention the first news of it in the context of the direction he was already offering to the churches.

Anglican Churches around the world are suffering significant persecution; they are living out – some of the very same churches – the gospel call to be ‘an effective, compassionate presence for the healing of a devastated community’. That is Christianity.

If the Primates of the Communion are to lead us into being that sort of church, the last thing we need to be doing is consuming ourselves in struggles about who is orthodox enough to be included. It is equally an outbreak of Christianity to hear the Archbishop say that ‘The unanimous judgement of those who were present was tha the Meeting should not see itself as a ‘supreme court’, with canonical powers, but that it should nevertheless be profoundly and regularly concerned with looking for ways of securing unity and building relationships of trust’. That is precisely how trust develops – by people meeting together and listening to one another at depth (as we have seen in the report of the continuing indaba of bishops from across the Communion).

It would be a fruitful Lenten discipline – if there is to be a thing called the Anglican Communion with any honesty in the future – for us all to take up the cross of praying for and supporting in their faith those who believe it very differently from ourselves.