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basic thesis in “Saving Anglicanism” was that Anglicanism is threatened
by the current crisis and that Anglicanism, as a particular approach to
the Christian Gospel, is not an assured feature of the fellowship of
churches that bears its name. Because of what it can contribute to
Christian thought and practice, we must, I argued, save Anglicanism at
all costs, while preserving the
Anglican Communion if we can. A secondary theme of my
narrative was that the “militant traditionalists” within and outside the
Episcopal Church—the term was intended to be descriptive, not
disparaging—are trying, not always by fair means, to rid our church of
“error,” which includes the very notion of theological diversity many
consider essential to its identity. I raised the possibility,
without necessarily advocating it, that resisting the demands of the
Anglican Communion—increasingly, the “requests” of the Windsor Report
seem to be turning into demands—might be a helpful strategy. Doing so,
of course, would surely not be a short-term fix.
“Wounded in Common Mission” has not caused me to reject any part of this
thesis, but it has given me greater perspective regarding both our
present circumstances and how we might proceed. Let me offer some
observations.
Christopher
Wells' ecumenical vision is, in this season of
religious strife, an attractive one. Although, on first reading, I found
the narration of his mission trip to Mexico a confusing
digression, upon reflection, it seems more a useful exemplar of a proper
response to Christ’s call to us as his followers. Would that we were
spending more time on mission trips and less time on global fights for
ecclesiastical supremacy. At the same time that Wells is focusing our
attention on relations with other provinces and other churches, certain
deputies to General Convention are announcing that they are in impaired
communion with other deputies and will therefore not share the communion
cup or Bible study with them. How sad that, within the Episcopal Church,
we cannot even get along with one another.
“Wounded” reminded me that the diversity in Anglicanism is indeed great
and that certain viewpoints often go unheeded because they are expressed
in a small voice or because those holding them are thoughtlessly
grouped, in the minds of those of one party, with the partisans of
another. It is common human failing to do this, but our perception,
imagination, and reasoning are human, and our plans, even for the
Church, even the Church led by the Holy Spirit, are necessarily
faltering and unsure. I do believe that there is such a thing as human
progress, even in the shepherding of Christ's Church, but the way is
often shrouded in fog, and the path is not always straight.
Wells’ perspective presents a challenge to me, both because it is less
familiar and because it is advanced in a manner to which I cannot
object. It is but one position easily lost sight of. Too often, those on
opposite sides of fault lines within the Episcopal Church have concerns
for the noncombatants—surely a majority of our members—that are
primarily about whether the silent ones will “defect” to “the other side” or simply
leave the church because it seems to them not to be spirit-filled or
because it simply fails to meet their spiritual needs. How many have we
excluded from our conversation? How many simply want to be left alone?
Although I have complained about the angry rhetoric of the militant
traditionalists, I find myself being held responsible for allegedly
similar discourse, and the present dialog with Christopher Wells
challenges me to meditate upon this state of affairs. Whereas I consider
much of “Saving Anglicanism” to be history, it is surely not
dispassionate history, and, though I tried to avoid name-calling, those
about whom I wrote have surely been stung by my words. Engaging Wells
here has been personally therapeutic—and, I hope, somehow useful to
others—although Wells is not among those I have called militant.
Nonetheless, I would welcome dispassionate discussion with those most
associated with “the other side” in the current disputes.
It may be that most of what needs to be said has been said, and it is
merely for the Episcopalians about to assemble in Columbus to decide
where they want to go from here.
Wells’ discussion may offer us some help, however. For example, he has
identified some of the fears of the parties now in conflict. Fears on one’s own side are talked about
less than perceived injustices and injuries visited upon one’s friends
by others And yet, those fears may represent important issues that
must be addressed in any effective reconciliation. For example, I do
indeed fear “the putatively Romanizing tilt of The Windsor Report”
that could “undo the advances of progressive causes.” Recognizing such a
fact may suggest ways of addressing it without simply resorting to
intransigence when compromise or sacrifice is asked. In particular, the
feared outcome can be addressed explicitly and separately from the
action whose consequence, it is thought, might ultimately cause that
fear to be realized.
My view of the nature of Anglicanism was a given in “Saving
Anglicanism,” and I assumed that most readers—not including the militant
traditionalists, surely—would share that view. One of the candidates for
Presiding Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Stacey F. Sauls, of Lexington, recently
wrote a helpful essay to his diocese, “What’s
really at stake (and it certainly isn’t sex).” Bishop Sauls puts it
this way:
There you have it. The first vision of Anglicanism sees
our character as having continuing validity and perhaps being uniquely
suited for our times. The second sees our character as severely
deficient and constitutionally weak. How the two can coexist with so
fundamental a difference is not clear. The difficulty is this. The
second vision intends to replace the first, not coexist with it (New
Yorker, p. 65). At the same time, if the first does not make
room for the second to be heard, the traditional Anglican approach of
comprehensiveness will be no less endangered. Anglicanism cannot be
legitimately defended by stifling dissent any more than the American
constitutional principle of freedom of speech can. It is quite possible
that the traditional Anglican approach to spirituality, theology, and
seeking God’s truth may well vanish from the earth. If we Episcopalians
allow that to happen, what I always believed was our most important
characteristic will have become our tragic flaw.
Bishop Sauls’ view may be unnecessarily gloomy, but he has put
succinctly what is perhaps the central dilemma facing General
Convention. It is a predicament being faced only obliquely, however. We
are being called upon to act with a view of preserving the Anglican
Communion, yet I think that Wells and Sauls and I could all agree that
we must consider what that means because not everyone has the same
outcome in mind. What are the opinions that have to be considered in
this matter, and how is that consideration to be played out?
The experience of the Lambeth Commission on Communion offers a
cautionary tale here. Its job, in retrospect, was to settle down what
was seen to have become an unruly Communion. In failing to address the
problem of homosexuality, it failed to address the underlying problem
posed by Bishop Sauls: what is (or is to be) the ethos of the Anglican
Communion? If we continue to follow the path set out by the Windsor
Report, we will, no doubt, find ourselves developing a covenant that, in
a fashion similar to that pursued by the Lambeth Commission, will be
developed with an eye toward preserving “unity” without examining the
underlying theologies competing, sometimes under the cover of darkness,
for supremacy.
In “What Should General Convention 2006 Do?” I suggested, perhaps with a
bit of mischievousness, that the Episcopal Church might want to express
its regret for “its failure to mend divisions within it, which has
resulted in the export of those divisions to the wider Communion.” Upon
reflection, this idea seems less frivolous than it did at the time. As
Episcopalians and as members of the Anglican Communion, what is needed
is for everyone to step back from the brink, for us to take a look at
ourselves and our sisters and brothers in Christ, and to ask what kind
of church we mean to be offering to a broken world. Are we really ready
to go about “fixing” the Anglican Communion while our own church has
serious divisions that we have clearly handled badly?
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Christopher Wells
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