She was asking if anyone knew of a place that purchased DVDs. The DVDs she was holding were worthless (titles from a $2 bin at Walmart). A sadness and desperation in her eyes made me probe into her situation. A woman had given her work today doing some cleaning. However, when she was done, she was given DVDs as payment instead of cash. Her boss apologized saying she thought she had cash to pay her, but she didn’t, so she’d have to take the movies instead.

I know no one has asked. Many of you may not even know or care to know: Sunday the 26th is Gay Pride Day (or GLBTQF&F Pride day or something) in most major cities. Some cities will have held their festival last weekend – so that more people could go to some larger festival this weekend. How do we reach them? It’s too easy for the Neocons and the Pharisees in all denominations to just write off the sinners with some well-chosen and funny words related to sex acts. One conservative Episcopal priest – now a prominent Antiochian Orthodox priest who wrote this in their own (Antiochian) magazine – “Do people actually do… that?” He calls it the “Ick factor”. (I’ll bet he is a LOT of fun in confession!)

Here are people in God’s image. What are you going to do about it?

I once preached a Sermon at St Gregory of Nyssa Church on a Gay Pride Sunday. Several blocks away were hundreds of thousands of people who don’t feel welcomed in Church ignoring not only us – a liberal Episcopal parish – but every other Church as well. How do you get the Gospel to them? If you’re in Church on Sunday, depending on what kind of Church you have and what sort of city you live in, you may see some guests – or you may not. What can you do?

We often turn our eyes to the fate of the Woman Caught In Adultery and About to be Stoned. It’s an easy story to pick. We are quick to point out the sins of the woman and then Our Lord’s forgiveness of her. And then we pound home the punch line, his saying “Go, and sin no more.”

It’s logical, of course, to focus on this story – not only because of the way that we can focus on sexual sin and say “Go and Sin No More”, but because we can then, I think, learn our lesson: let he who is without sin cast the first stone. But few of us forget our stones while remembering our sin. It’s much easier to preach as if each of us were, himself, Christ, saying “GO! – And Sin No More!” As if that were the point: Get out of my Church! But sin no more.

There is another scene that it may do better for us to focus on: Our Lord at a Dinner party in the Pharisee’s house. There is great feasting and these men of learning, having banished the women hence – as was the custom – have sat down to talk a little theology amongst themselves. …et ecce mulier quae erat in civitate peccatrix ut cognovit quod accubuit in domo Pharisaei adtulit alabastrum unguenti et stans retro secus pedes eius lacrimis coepit rigare pedes eius et capillis capitis sui tergebat et osculabatur pedes eius et unguento unguebat.

And behold a woman that was in the city, a sinner, when she knew that he sat at meat in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster box of ointment; And standing behind at his feet, she began to wash his feet, with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment.

This is a better scene for this imaginary Gay Pride sermon because so very many people will be strangers: but they will know where Our Lord is sitting at meat – at Church. Our steeples and reader boards and “welcome” signs will be all over the cities. Our Lord will be setting down to dinner and to talk theology with us just as – or just before – the Parades step off.

But on the off chance, if one of these visitors should enter our Churches – if they venture so far – will they find a welcome? Will they be able to fall at the feet of Jesus? Will they hear from our lips the condemnation that Jesus does not speak or will they hear the welcome and forgiveness he offers – without the sermon this time? “You’ve loved much – by coming this far.”

propter quod dico tibi remittentur ei peccata multa quoniam dilexit multum cui autem minus dimittitur minus diligit dixit autem ad illam remittuntur tibi peccata et coeperunt qui simul accumbebant dicere intra se quis est hic qui etiam peccata dimittit dixit autem ad mulierem fides tua te salvam fecit vade in pace.

Wherefore I say to thee: Many sins are forgiven her, because she hath loved much. But to whom less is forgiven, he loveth less. And he said to her: Thy sins are forgiven thee. And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves: Who is this that forgiveth sins also? And he said to the woman: Thy faith hath made thee safe, go in peace.

Why does he not offer a sermon? Why does he not command “and sin no more”? Why does he credit her faith for just showing up? Because God loves us. The woman caught in adultery didn’t come to him of her own volition as this woman did. The woman caught in adultery did not show up at the party wanting only to see Jesus – just as our visitors do. To each of them he takes their first, halting steps – their very first offering of love – in a synergy unknown to them and spins out forgiveness.

Whatever sin each of us brought with us to Church: God is still working it out in each us, “in fear and trembling”. But if we had shown up on that first day only to hear a sermon aimed directly at us (perhaps with a lot of clucking and pointing from around the room as well) why would we have had anything else to do with this deity?

The topic of sexual sin never once came up in my conversations with Fr V (Memory Eternal!). It was there in my confessions, of course, and he treated it like any other sin: as did Fr J. With God’s help, things work out. But there’s no huge explosion that very first day. Trust me.

Would it have been different if I’d heard that one sermon we often hear on this topic that first Sunday? Yes. Very much so. Is it any different on Gay Pride Sunday if a visitor hears that one sermon? Yes. Very much so. That one special sermon seems to say there is only one Sin left in the world and it’s mine – thus as a leper, all I can do is put on my Pink Triangles and Rainbow Shirts and go back to my party because I’m not welcomed at yours. I would have been one of the people up the street – ignoring even the liberal Churches.

It’s not the Gospel – this pre-judgement. But we only condemn ourselves. We’re the Ick factor that keeps people out of church. Period. Not their sins. That’s God’s thing: not ours. Not even at the Chalice.

We are encouraged (threatened?) by the saints to think that the way we treat others day-to-day is the way God will treat us in the end. Who would you rather be? What scene do you want to imagine on Judgement day? We can each be the Adulteress, her sins dragged before our Lord by her accusers; the Accusers, out for a sinner’s blood; the Pharisees, judging sinners – and also judging our Lord for his failure to judge, or; we can be the Woman who Loved Much – even though she didn’t know how to show it or what to do about it. I bet afterwards she threw some amazing dinner parties.

We risk turning the Church into all the Pharisees at dinner: Doesn’t he know what kind of sinner this is!?!?!?! Yes – and he knows what kind of sinner each of us is. And he lets us touch him, nonetheless.

God have mercy on all of us.

• Revised Common Lectionary:
  
  • 1 Samuel 15:34 – 16:13
  • Ezekiel 17:22-24
  • 2 Corinthians 5:6-17
  • Mark 4:26-34
• Eastern Rite:
  
  • Romans 2:10-16
  • Matthew 4:18-23

When Gentiles, who do not possess the law, do instinctively what the law requires, these, though not having the law, are a law to themselves… God, through Jesus Christ, will judge the secret thoughts of all.

‘PRAZDZNIKOM! A Blessed Feast to you! (I wish we had a word in English that did duty for “S’prazdznikom!”) Today is the feast of All Saints of America as well as the Patronal Festival of the Mission here in Buffalo! We’re Dancing today in honour of the holy men and women of all ages and times who have followed the Holy One in glory on this continent and South America as well.

Some have openly declared their faith as Christians, others have never done so: but we say the light of Christ burns in them and draws them to the Holy One – and draws us, too, to that same Holy One through them.

In today’s (ER) reading, Paul is making it clear to his Jewish readers that it’s possible for people outside the visible community of God to be followers of God. And visibly so! It is Paul saying what my friend, Ana,says often: “Sometimes the Pagans are better Christians than the Christians.”

Today’s feast is a way to acknowledge these people as clearly and as powerfully as we can:

Come, let us praise the saints of all the Americas,
holy hierarchs, venerable monastics and glorious martyrs,
pious men, women and children, both known and unknown!
Through their words and deeds, in various walks of life,
by the grace of the Spirit they achieved true holiness.
Now as they stand in the presence of Christ Who glorified them,
they pray for us, who celebrate their memory with love.

Come, let us assemble today
and glorify the luminaries of all the American lands,
the glorious martyrs and holy bishops who confirmed our faith,
the righteous dwellers in the wilderness and guides of the spiritual life!
Let us cry out to them in joy:
All Saints of the Americas known and unknown, pray to God for us!

Known and Unknown… the Eastern tradition today (as the Western one did, until recently) has as strong, vital tradition of local commemoration. Someone whose holiness is recognised in their life, at least among local people, or whose holiness in death is seen by all those around him or her. Although they are not named “saints” by any larger body, the local folks invoke them as such, telling stories to their children about the holiness of Fr X, the local pastor, or the miracles of Mrs Y a wise prophetess who could pray and God would hear and answer her prayers. Only recently – especially in the west, but also in the eastern communities, and only among a certain class of intellectual folk (and I include myself there) have we tried to assure ourselves of the “purity” of our faith by banishing those people we think might be “heretics” or “not really good enough.” When we see people praying to Holy Man X, we scratch our head and try to correct their missteps. We want to keep things “right” and “pure”.

As the brightest sun,
as the brilliance of the Morning Star,
the precious feast of the saints of North and South America has dawned for us,
to illumine us and to set our hearts on fire,
to imitate their godly lives,
and to follow their example of zeal for God.

Come, let us assemble today
and let us praise the elect of all America!
Having fought the good fight, you have persevered in the faith,
receiving your crowns of victory from God.
Beseech Him to deliver from every calamity and sorrow
all who keep your holy memory in faith and in love!

One of the Patrons of our Community is Our Lady of Guadeloupe. She’s called “The Queen of the Americas” by the Byzantine Catholics and her feast day is on 12 December. If you know her story, you probably understand the punchline to this Joke: You’ve seem images of her, I’m sure, flowing in the clouds on the back of an angel. The type of the image is exactly that of most other Mexican devotional images of a certain period. It looks rather like an icon of the period. And there are doubters from within the Church from from as early as 1556, 25 years after the reported miracle: when the participants were still living. The natives (easily misled, of course) are made to “believe that the image painted by Marcos the Indian is in any way miraculous.” And so, of course, when Secretary of State Clinton visited Mexico this year, she is said to have asked, “Who painted it?” But this devotion continues to grow – and prayers are answered and miracles happen. Who cares if the apparition happened exactly as told; or even if the icon is, as some believe, simply a way to get the local Aztec natives to see the Virgin (and hence, her son) as the manifestation of the local idea of Holy? In answer to that question we sing her hymn every Sunday.

My own patron Saint, Raphael Hawaweeny, was glorified 100 years after his death by two local synods of Orthodoxy. But he had been prayed to, with icons of him even in churches, for most of the last century, so evident was his holiness to all who knew him or knew of him and his work.

And all communions of Christianity are filled with examples of Holy Men and Women we might wish had shut up sooner – such as John Chrysostom or Martin Luther before they gave voice to the Antisemitism of their cultures or Martin Luther King before he had extra-marital affairs, or Raphael of Brooklyn before he allowed his faithful to pray with Episcopalians and then withdrew the permission in a most astonishing manner… maybe we need to admit that the “real” Saints are not perfect. Neither should we expect such perfection of anyone save Jesus.

We want our faith to make sense, some times: to be filled with logical beauty and sensible perfection. In fact, in this fallen world, God makes a bigger mess than that, and expects us to laugh. Have you heard the beauty of a Russian Choir singing the Tchaikovsky Liturgy? Most churches throughout history have been blessed by something rather smaller and messier. So it is with our saints.

The earth rejoices and the heavens are glad,
O venerable Saints of America,
praising your labors and lives, your spiritual fortitude and purity of heart.
By driving away a multitude of demons
and enlightening many people with the light of the Faith,
you have confirmed our land.

So the question stands, as the prophet says, Who are these like stars appearing? They are around us in many ways and shapes and forms. The man at the deli counter, the woman at the bar, the saint at the laundromat or the wise man on the Subway.

One night, walking to a lecture by Matthew Fox, I met an Angel. And once, drunk and walking home at 2 AM, I gave my chain to a woman who said – her hands overflowing with my donation – that she was the Virgin Mary.

What are we to do? We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. Some of them gave their lives for a great good, a self sacrifice for their fellow people. For some – St Raphael – the holiness may shine out in entirely predictable ways. For others, we may be surprised to imagine who we might see at the final banquet. Even though they may have rejected God in their time, we can see God in their lives.

So a blessed feast! S’prazdznikom! May they all pray for us – the ones we expect and the ones we do not expect, the ones we imagine and the ones we reject. The ones who comfort us and the ones who challenge us, the ones who confirm our faith and the ones who rejected it out of hand – but still managed to make some part of the Kingdom visible. God knows the secrets of their hearts in Jesus Christ. It’s all good.

Rejoice, O mountains of Pennsylvania and Peru
leap for joy, O waters of the Great Lakes and the Amazon;
rise up, O fertile plains of Canada and deserts of Mexico;
for the elect of Christ who dwelt in you are glorified,
men and women who left their homes for a new land!
With faith, hope and patience as their armor,
they courageously fought the good fight.
Comforted by the beauty of Christ’s Holy Faith,
they labored in mines and mills, they tilled the land,
they braved the challenges of the great cities,
enduring many hardships and sufferings.
Never failing to worship God in spirit and truth
and unyielding in devotion to His most pure Mother,
they erected many temples to His glory.
Come, O assembly of the Faithful,
and with love let us praise the holy women, men and children,
those known to us and those known only to God,
and let us cry out to them:
Rejoice, All Saints of the Americas and pray to God for us!

Liturgical Terrorism or the Future
Intercommunion: Finding a Way Home

The Bishop is speaking of communion between Christian bodies, of what happens when Jack the Methodist and Tor the Lutheran and Haagen the Reformed Kirker all gather at the Lord’s Table.

Donald Schell wrote two that hold this theme as well,

Making Saints I
Making Saints II

And Derek Olsen wrote a response to Donald Here

The Discussions on all of these posts – and I’ve be part of some and not of others – has let me to realise why it is that I believe in Radically Open Communion outside Religious Restrictions (ROCORR).

Pardon me that I’ve tricked you to get this far. And one day I’ll tell you why I want to open the Finish Orthodox Church Outside of Finland (FOCOF).

Radically Open Communion the practice of welcoming all to the table without exception. This is the liturgical reality in most places – including a vast number of Greek and Roman parishes I’ve been in. But Radically Open Communion implies an overt liturgical action rather than a “don’t ask don’t tell” level of dysfunction. In my own experience the only thing that really works is either open or closed communion. And while many denominations (including RC and Eastern ecclesial communities) claim to have closed communion, very few take the correct steps to ensure it:

How to do Closed

1) Announcement: in the bulletin or on signs and, ideally, at least once before communion is distributed, there should be made clear to all that only party X is welcomed to receive.

2) Consistency: the above liturgical practices should be made clear at all church events – not just ones where “someone else” might be present. Weddings, baptisms, funerals, Sunday and weekday services, etc. The best announcement I know is “Only Orthodox Christians with the blessing of their confessor are welcomed to receive at the chalice…” Say that every liturgy before “Draw near, draw near” and you’ll get your point across. Only say it some times… and you’ve goofed.

3) Enforcement: If the person distributing the elements doesn’t recognise someone, things should stop for a moment while you ascertain, to the best of your ability, that the person in front of you is qualified to receive the elements.

4) Parallel Practice: I firmly believe that something should be made available to persons not welcomed to receive. In the Eastern Rite, this is the blessed bread. For me one of the most moving things during my early visits to the OCA Cathedral in SF was the number of folks who came up to me and gave me blessed bread – not knowing me, the extended this fellowship to me, over and over. Other churches offer a blessing at the altar, etc. These are good things to do. IF you don’t do them you risk going beyond “closed communion” into “unwelcoming”. I’ve been in EO churches where the blessed bread was not allowed to be given to non-Orthodox! This put everyone – laity and clergy alike – in the position of Denominational Snoop.

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell

Communities which fail to take the above steps and yet claim to practice “closed communion” are, in fact, simply running a feel-good operation where they say “we’re exclusive” but – and I can say this from personal experience – they let anyone in.

If you say you are closed, tell me how you know? Can you tell that the person standing next to you is, like you, a member in good standing. How do you know the person next to you is pure in doctrine, or at least pure enough. Actually you don’t. And if you think about it for a while you realise it.

I do know those folks who claim to withhold communion based on doctrinal issues (Orthodox) but, the reality is rather more subtle, especially outside the USA. There was a variety of degrees of intercommunion among the laity into the middle of the 19th century in Europe. It is still happening in the Middle East today. When a priest finds himself free to celebrate the mysteries, few bother to ask his doctrine. There is thankfulness and Eucharist. Where Christianity is persecuted they do not have the luxury of doctrinal quibbles. Even in the USA, where we have a very strong, perhaps exaggerated sense of the doctrinal divide, the boundaries among sensible laity, pastors and bishops are much fluid. I know a man reunited to the Orthodox church’s communion – after decades as an ECUSAn clergyman – by simple confession at one Saturday vigil and communion the next morning. I know some RC clergy and indy cath clergy (!!!) received by simple vesting without so much as an absolution.

The issue is not what’s right or wrong with these practices, but rather the reality of them in light of what some – especially converts – think is eternal, unchanging practice handed down from Eternity to Eternity.

Patristic Radically Open Communion

Certainly the writer knows and knows well that the Fathers and Mothers of the Church would not have supported Radically Open Communion. This is not an argument that they would support such a sacramental concept in their own era. But from their teachings it is possible to support Radically Open Communion – including communion of the Unbaptised.

If, as the Saints teach the Eucharist is the meal that consumes us it is a sacrament of conversion. If, as the Fathers and Mothers teach, the Eucharist is constitutive of the Church (not the other way around) then bringing someone to the table is exactly bringing them into the church. If, as the saints teach, the communion is at once God’s grace and also deadly peril, then it is so for all of us – no matter how “prepared” we imagine ourselves to be and to judge “them” as more or less prepared than “we” is to imperil ourselves for judgement.

Lex Orandi Lex Credendi.

The Law of Prayer is the Law of Belief. Show us how a people worship and we shall see what they believe. Sometimes in modern-day liberal language, this comes to mean “we should never liturgise what we don’t believe”. In fact it is quite the reverse: doctrine taught in the liturgy of the church is that into which we should strive to grow. It should be a reach, a stretch – not only for the laity but for the clergy as well! And if so – and if it is celebrated as such – all the more glory to God!

Open communion celebrates that and glorifies that. Communion, welcoming all whom God calls to the table, is an honest evaluation of where all of us are: we are all of us striving to grow into the fullness of the faith. The prayer of the hours asks God to “wall us about with your holy Angels, that protected and guided by their host we may reach the unity of the faith and the knowledge of your unapproachable glory…” We’re not there yet and that’s ok – provided the constant goal is to stretch forward to get there.

We do this already (even in closed-communion communities) with the communication of children. The Eastern church makes it clear, communicating babies. It’s not proper to understand this as a case of doctrinal purity or correct understanding. Our children do not get there – neither do we.

If admission to closed communion is celebrated as a step on the way (rather than the way itself, or a judgmental status change, “you’re good enough now”) it makes sense. provided the suggestions offered above. Usually, however, most often it’s held up as an us/them thing, in/out. Really Christian/Not Really but Close become the categories.

Open Communion is holding the gate open, we can all grow together to “the unity of the faith and the knowledge of [God's] unapproachable glory.”

NE OF The things that I struggle with is the idea of “the Holy guy”. This has plagued me from High School. I didn’t go into bars (etc) when I was growing up not because it was immoral or the like, but rather because I was too young and it was illegal. When I was a senior in HS, on Fridays, my best friend’s parents would take us out for Pizza and video games. This was at the local bar (The Wurtsboro Hotel), and, being locals ourselves, we knew pretty much everyone in there – including the police who came by to check on things. As long as my friend and I stayed out of the bar area, itself – in the areas where there were tables and video games, etc – it was ok. But none of my HS friends ever saw this, just people from my own, small town. But after HS was over, and I came back from college, I’d go to local watering holes and have cocktails with people I’d gone to school with. And often, in the bars, someone from HS would walk over, address me by name and say, Now, what are you doing here??? I thought you were going to be a minister?

I’m already an odd bit, I know: same-sex attracted, preferring odd music rather than what’s popular (this was a bigger issue in the 70s than now when, ironically, I like 70s music). I call myself an Ontological Anarchist. I’m religious… I didn’t need the ideas of others thrust on me. Of course I might go into a bar now and then (as anyone who actually knows me will report). But I constantly hear variations on “What are you doing here?”

I pray I’m living the Gospel…

Among the usual charges thrown at “liberals” by “conservatives” is that the liberals are trying to become all things to all people. This might be modified to becoming “all things – except Christians”. I’ve heard this used as preaching ploy for as long as I can remember. I remember it on Christian radio in the 70s – urging us Christians not to be all things to all men, but rather to stand up for Jesus at ever turn (etc). And, for as long as I can remember, I’ve wondered why Paul got to be all things to all men (the source of the metaphor!) and why it was good for him – but not for us.

Here it is, in the RCL for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, and I’m wondering what it might mean. More importantly, I’m wondering what might be the point of including it here, today at the end of the season of Epiphany. (Next week is the Sunday traditionally called “Septuagesima”. It’s noted as “3rd Sunday before Lent” in the Church of England. It overrides the Sundays of Epiphany. We will be in “Pre Lent” next week.) In what way is this “All things to all men” a manifestation (Epiphany) of God?

For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings.

Going through that list I begin to wonder what Paul was doing,,,

For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them.

I’m not bound to anyone: wealth, position, whatever, makes me above all that… yet for the sake of the Gospel I need them.

To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews.

Yes, where it’s needed, I played the tribe card.

To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law.

I prayed with my head covered, I lit the candles, I remembered my Aleph-Bet. I expounded the Torah and quoted the sages.

To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law.

But like Jesus, I partied with Tax Collectors and prostitutes, I slept in the wrong parts of town, I ate bacon sandwiches, I had cheeseburgers!

To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak.

I went out on the hillsides where Rome exposes her very weak and sick and elderly, to let them die. I brought them home. I went to the gutters where drunk soldiers fall and bound up their wounds. I stood outside the brothels when the slaves took illicit breaks and went to them. I found myself in market places ministering to men, women and children in cages.

It is, of course, not how God manifest to us: but how we manifest God to others.

What are you doing here?

Christmas Eve, 1996 – before I’d decided to leave NYC and move to SF – I left the Cathedral of St John the Divine following Midnight Mass and took a taxi to Christopher Street and Seventh Avenue South. At 2 AM, wearing a tie and some other evidence of “going to church”, I entered Ty’s bar with some Christmas cookies and a smile. There were two people there: Gary, the Bartender and one regular patron. I knew the same story was being played out in larger and smaller bars all over the city. The only people in bars on Christmas Eve are those with no place to go either by choice, by religion or by rejection. The people of other-religions can be left out of this equation, but by two AM (when bars close at four) the only people left are either choosing to be there, or else can’t go anywhere else.

This was one of the reasons I used to describe the older gay bars on Christopher St and the West Side Hwy as “my parish”. The younger crowd in Chelsea and in the muscle/sports/posing bars didn’t need anything (yet) but sex and ego gratification. The Bars down here were needing hands to hold, hearts to heal, presence, being.

Gary and the man were watching Holiday Inn on the TV. We bought each other drinks, we debated movie trivia, we sat close to each other. The man was overjoyed to have someone to talk to – and someone who knew the movie and other Bing Crosby And, having been freed of his social obligations, after a time, Gary cleaned up the bar. The customer left. Gary and I had some coffee. And I went home. I love NYC Subways at 4:30 AM.

What are you doing here?

In the Gospel, the Apostles go and get Jesus. They tell him “Everyone is looking for you”. The same is true today… We have a world hungry for God in the Flesh, being with them where they are. And each one of us has a call to be that presence, that Epiphany. How can we be that manifestation of God when we want to imagine holy people need to be kept in a box, safe from the world or, perhaps more important for our needs, today, when we want to imagine that Social Justice and Religion are two different fields. We imagine that the “really religious” are useless for action and the “community organisers” need to be kept safe from the deep theology of the Christian tradition.

How do we modern folks with our secular, humanist, scientist, etc. wake up to the realisation that the deepest tradition of Christian theology – from Paul to Mother Theresa – is exactly here, in the Orthodox proclamation of the fullness of the Christian Gospel? How do we seek out hands to hold, hearts to heal with God’s/our presence and being? How do we – in the Power of God’s Spirit, manage to become All things to All People so that Christ may be all in all?

To use an over-abused word, all of ‘em are Mavericks. A maverick is an unbranded range animal, especially a motherless calf. It can also mean a person who thinks independently, a lone dissenter, a non-conformist or rebel. Other definitions report that the origin of the word is one Samuel Maverick who used to leave the calves of his heard unbranded. A crucial comment on the definition is that traditionally, whoever found a maverick, got to claim him for their own. Clergy who are Mavericks do tend to buck the system: sometimes they spend their entire ministry doing so. I think of two rectors who have spent the last 20 – 25 years bucking the system of ECUSAn clockwork and have built successful parishes and ministries. I think of a few young clergy who have not bought in to the system at all.

Usually the maverick clergy (admired or despised) are cutting-edge liberal sorts who want to re-do liturgy and/or theology, but in a few not-very-rare cases they are admired or despised conservatives. I can think of two such conservative rectors off the top of my head in ECUSA whom I love and admire greatly, and even a couple in Orthodoxy. I know: mavericks in Orthodoxy, how scary! But, as Glinda the Good Witch says of the Ruby Slippers, “There they are. And there they’ll stay.” These priests are building (or have built) ministries against all odds and, while I mightn’t like all of ‘em, I have to admit they’ve done some good (and some not so good) by Maverick-Rolling Along.

To point at one obvious example and, perhaps, one that is not so obvious, St Gregory of Nyssa Church in San Francisco and St Nicholas parish in Asheville. The former is one of the most vibrant and growing parishes in all of ECUSA. And, while it might surprise you, until a round of troubles took over the later was one of the largest and most-active Orthodox parishes in the entire South East for a while and, yes, being a Maverick did that – and, to a certain extent, also caused the problems. But it is an example to hold up for admiration. Other examples can be found around the web. There is a string of ECUSA parishes revitalised and rescued from certain death by one priest. There are also several bishops who have acted in what they see as the best spiritual interest of their people and led them away from ECUSA. I disagree with their various actions, but it’s clear they want to save the souls of their flock. And they have the cojones to do so.

There are also the cases of my two Patron Saints: St Francis of Assisi and St Raphael of Brooklyn. Although they were both loyal sons of the Church (Western and Eastern respectively), both were, in their way, revolutionaries who raised a banner – Holy Poverty and Radical, in-person Mission & Ministry.

All of these people did what “the system” might refer to as “damaging to your career”. All of them struck out as the spirit led them to do what they were called to do and, reluctantly, the church ultimately went along with the vast majority of good things, and ditched the bad things and – in two cases – made them Saints.

The main point being not that I imagine myself to be such a radical, but, to be 100% honest, exactly the opposite: I am rather a wimp. A case in point would be this very essay (as you’ll see later).

I know (and have connected with) several clergy who fit my own mould. They have nice jobs. They have nice families. They have nice lives. I’m very bored by them and find them to be tedious company. Although I love and pray for them, they are not ministries I’d like to write about or interview. They are not people I’d call “friends”. In one case, a certain priest worked as Canon to the Ordinary for one of the most conservative bishops his diocese has had in recent years and now is working under one of the more liberal ones. There was nary a hitch between the two administrations. I think also of all the very liberal and very conservative folks I know who just passively put up with (rather than actively connect to) all the people of the opposite polarity. Contra this, my own (very liberal) rector has often been friends with the most-conservative clergy in the diocese where both are cut-off by the wider stream of “normal” folks. (And since I’ve already been asked, if you and I know each other by first name, call each other on the phone and have lunch, at least, from time to time: don’t worry.)

Again, the point is: I’m not one of these Mavericks. I’m one of the Nice People. In all the jobs I’ve had where I’ve been unhappy, it’s taken years (nearly a decade) to actually act on my dissatisfaction. I’ve often taken better positions only by accident – never actually engaging in a betrayal of my current boss no matter how annoying I found him or her. I usually find myself flustered with a style that I see as dysfunctional, but pissed off at my own inability to either fix or escape the problem.

Examples: when a job I was in began to take advantage of my technical skills (while still paying only for my secretarial skills) I only acted to save my neck after about 2 years of abuse. Prior, the same company had made me “assistant manager” of the bookstore while still paying me to be a cashier. This also lasted nearly 2 years – and only when I finally threatened some sort of legal action did they take the right steps. But even then, I didn’t fix it without going to therapy. And then there is the instance of spiritual abuse about which I’ve blogged here. Even when invited to write the Bishop, I simply sighed and went on my way weeping.

To put it succinctly, I have no well-honed “flight or fight” skills (if any at all): only passive resignation. It would be just as much when I became Fr Milquetoast – at the whim of a Bishop, or Deanery or Vestry, and terribly annoyed at the entire thing.

Now… apply that to what I know of THE PROCESS in ECUSA. Most clergy take it as a given that the process will be abusive. Most clergy take it as sort of an inside joke and a bit of an initiation. I’ve been warned that ECUSA is not a nice place to work (I know that, after 10 years at the Episcopal Church Center in NYC, which Sunday I referred to as “our Guantanamo Bay”). I’ve seen it: my future colleagues are often a bunch of back-stabbing administrators who often have a sense of competition on a win/loose model; who can smile benignly at ecumenism and make fun of “them” all at the same time; who are, essentially, human sinners like the rest of us. But something about that all too human moment is to heavy to bear when it comes not only from someone who feels threatened in their employment, but who happens to be wearing a Clerical Collar at the same time. I know people who wondered innocently and unwittingly into the maw of this beast. Ordained at 25, they were in their first parish in 6 months and out, resigned and on their way to law school (or secretarial school or teaching elementary school, etc) before 18 months has past. I don’t want to be one of those people.

Some wonderful emails were sent to me in response to my last discernment posting. My favourite is about the “voice we need to hear articulating the wonderful, Anglican vision you have of Church.” Readers have seen my vision articulated in these pages and close friends have heard me speak of it in person.

What I’m trying to figure out is would I have the cojones to institute that vision, or would I just be trapped in some falling down building doing pledge drives for the parking lot, with a thermometer stuck to the side of the reader board?

To phrase the question more directly: John Plummer ordained me in Asheville (before I had “officially” left Orthodoxy and before I “officially” became Anglican again) it was so that I could be empowered by the Holy Spirit to bring my vision of Church into reality. ECUSA rejects that ordination as “invalid”. (One Orthodox priest told me, he treats it like any other Anglican ordination – “Valid within your own tradition”. And several Episcopal clergy have said, “Ordination is Ordination”.) In some of the most-staunchly Company circles of ECUSA they, in fact, would treat indy ordination as a mark against me. The discernment question at hand: is that Ordination a gift from God to go out and act – without worrying about things – or should I wait until I get a “real” Church to give me the go-ahead.

You can see a bit of my wimpiety in my asking of the question at all: several times, recently, I’ve come close to a decision one way or the other only to be afraid to actually speak the decision aloud, including a couple of times being afraid to mention it to Mom or Brodie. I keep coming back to the paycheck: it will be hard to have a paycheck as an Indy. I’d be working in bookstores or coffee shops for the rest of my life. Truth be told, however, I imagine I’d be happier doing so.

And it was in the process of two conversations over two meals that I realised exactly what emergent means – and why it drives traditional church folks batty.

When one goes to an Orthodox Church, especially of the Russian rite, there will be several different things going on at the same time: the priest will not be visible, the choir will be absent, at least to start. People are trickling in as singles or families. A reader will be reading the hours: some are following along – crossing themselves, bowing, etc – others are certainly doing their own thing: lighting candles, venerating icons, praying silently. Every once in a while, much to the consternation of a western liturgist, a voice will sound from beyond the screen, “Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages!” Eventually bells will start to ring and the entire room will be incensed by the priest or deacon. Suddenly the choir is singing, the doors are open and (most) everyone is facing forward and the liturgy moves forward: it has emerged from the congregation.

You can say, if you want, that it happened because liturgy always happens at 10:30 on Sunday morning, but I will insist it emerged that way because the Holy Spirit called it forth.

That is emergent church – each one plying their gifts and out of what might seem to be chaos comes divine order and beauty.
I suppose Fr X knows that when he starts everyone will pay attention. But so do the bell ringers. So does the choir. So does the reader. So does the Deacon who actually starts the liturgy by telling the Priest it is “time for God to act” and, so: God starts the liturgy. Yes, the image is faulty. But that is what emergent means.

RadioLab did a show on Emergence back in 2005. The first segment is on fireflies that blink in unison. The scientist who discovered them (back in the 60s) reported that the entire forest seemed to turn on and off at the same time! Taking a bag full of the lightning bugs back to the hotel to show his wife, he was disappointed when he released them and they flew around the room twinkling like “normal” bugs – in random order. The couple went to bed and the scientist lay there watching the bugs. Eventually, they all flew to the ceiling and, over the course of several minutes they modulated their luminescences until, by twos and threes, and then fives and tens, suddenly they were all blinking in unison.

Emergence: what happens when there is no leader?

The idea is not to “do” emergent church: rather, the idea is to be present, listening and waiting for God to move the Church into existence.

Emergent is not something you can “put on a community” or “do with a parish” or “bring to a conference”. It’s what the Church does.

My suggestion was a mid-week gathering (in addition to the Sunday BCP liturgy). The midweek gathering would be to provide fellowship and study. Eventually the folks at the Midweek would come to decisions about what the Sunday service could use to grow. Maybe they would rewrite portions. Maybe they would do away with the organist. Maybe they would evolve to high mass or low church preaching or St Gregory of Nyssa-style tie-dye. Whatever it is, the community comes to God’s presence and waits.

I’ve heard that there are conventions where bishops are elected where it is obvious that people are campaigning, dividing up into camps, and trying to WIN. But there are other elections where everything just slowly drifts to one candidate who emerges as the winner after several rounds of balloting. The Spirit moved, say the people, meaning that the Spirit waited around until we caught on.

That is Emergent: the Spirit waiting around until the rest of us catch on.

It’s not what you do – liturgy, Bible study, free singing, organ music, band music, rote prayers, read prayers, improv prayers. It’s not how you sing or socialise: it is how you do church with no leader except Jesus.

OR SOME Reason, ECUSA has different readings assigned to the the Sundays after Christmas than the RCL. I’m going to stick to the RCL Second Sunday after Christmas, Year B: the ECUSA lectionary, which has the same set of readings for both Sundays in all three years, also has 3 different gospels to pick from. So, who’s to say what’s the “right” one?

After the traditional sort of readings in Advent – the coming Prince of Peace, etc – the readings in Christmas promise us redemption, liberation, and all the things for which we were longing previously. The Psalms are also filled with this language: God acting to redeem the oppressed, the poor, etc. If you read the psalms daily for MP and EP, you get a healthy dose of saying to God, “Don’t turn your back! Save us!” Or words to that effect.

And it’s hard – I have to be honest – not not read myself into these stories. I want God to liberate me from the things that oppress me: you know, bills I have to pay and debt I’ve accumulated, responsibilities that weigh on me…

I’d really like God to help me not feel so oppressed.

I have to remind myself at every turn that I’m not the oppressed: rather, in the terms as used by the scripture writers, I’m the oppressor.

Sure: it might be nice if the folks in the state of California were to let me and Brodie get married there. But every action in my life from the food I pick to the computer on which I type – as a wealthy, white, American Male – comes on the back of hundreds, thousands of others. My quest for cheap stuff, for inexpensive food, for nearly-free Gas (as compared to elsewhere in the world), my miniscule unemployment rate, my warm house, my bed, my closet filled to the seams with clothes and shoes all speak rather clearly of my hoarding of wealth and my riding on the backs of the poor.

My illusion of self-reliance comes at the cost of denial paid by the invisible thousands who serve me every day; the hundreds who die so I can have 30 times the amount of food I need on hand at any given time or 8 times the amount of clothes I need.

And while I might want to imagine such Biblical passages as an imprecation aimed at those I dislike or with whom I disagree. The reality is that most of the Bible condemns me, my neighbours, friends and family; our very way of life that oppresses the world.

And so when we pray God to cast off the oppressors, we’d better fasten our seatbelts: cuz we’re about to get cast off as we deserve.