One of the statements below is untrue.
1. The music mostly was Durufle's Requiem.
2. The only congregational hymn was Sine Nomine.
3. The (sung) Eucharistic Prayer and much of the rest of the liturgy was slightly redacted Rite I. (We do this every year and the redaction was the least yet, though one particularly notable phrase was softened.)
4. The Gospeller was Giles Fraser, Vicar of Putney.
5. Madpriest preached.
Actually, the Rector preached a sermon that for the first ten minutes I could imagine Madpriest preaching, that is, a sermon on the communion of saints that extends sainthood omnibus fidelibus defunctorum . Then the style changed too much for it to be Madpriest. But the rest indeed happened. Giles Fraser is visiting for a couple of weeks. He's apparently preaching next week.
Showing posts with label ILEOS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ILEOS. Show all posts
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
De Iuventute in Ecclesia
Recently, my fellow parishioner, Hugo Schwyzer, provided a review of Youth Sunday at ILEOS.
This passage particularly struck me:
Hugo goes on to say that this was a daring thing to say at the pulpit of ILEOS. In retrospect, I guess it was. At the time, I was thinking: “This parish puts more resources into children and youth work than any parish I’ve ever seen, but there is clearly something deeply lacking with our catechesis.” Hugo is the nice stolid ILEOS Low Churchman, and I am the nice stolid ILEOS High Churchman, but Hugo knows the facts on the ground better than I.
But to be fair, this is a general problem. I saw it in my much more moderate parish back East. In my third confirmation class (don’t ask), Providence had thrown together a variety of upper middle class teenagers with one thing in common: they didn’t want to be there. It’s a common rite of passage in the Episcopal Church. Confirmation becomes a get out of church free card, unless there are special circumstances (clergy children). So, of course, you are going to have a few atheists. One of my classmates was quite open about it. I was horrified.
It wasn’t until about two years later when I was put in charge of preparing the parents of infants and young children for their children’s baptisms that I understood why it was difficult to instill solid Christian belief of some kind in Episcopal youth. It wasn’t MTV, materialism, or simple adolescent rebellion, because the upper middle class children of the Baby Boomers aren’t rebellious. Most of us buy into the idea that if we get into the right college, we’ll sign the same social contract that brought our parents prosperity and never worry again. Thus, we spend a tremendous amount of effort and anxiety on the process of getting into a good college. Past generations spent some of this time hoping for conversion experiences, looking for signs of election, agonizing over their salvation, considering religious vocations, or becoming involved in pietistic practices.
And it wasn’t just so much of our existential angst did not turn to the things of God. Looking at the new parents of our congregation, it was fairly clear that most of them wanted their children baptized for perfunctory reasons or else to give them a values system of some sort. I shocked these sorts deeply without even intending it. I’ll never forget one poor woman who was undoubtedly shocked when I suggested that Satan could be something more than a metaphor. The look she gave me is what I expect to receive at an accidental first contact with an alien species, “You’re not from this planet, are you? Have I even heard of your planet?” There were exceptions. I still remember one couple in particular who I think were quite happy that someone was taking baptism seriously. A couple of years later, I was sorting a batch of clothes at a local thrift store when I kept coming across fine designer labels. Those were appreciated, since they could be sold at a premium and the fashionably thrifty ladies of the neighborhood still would consider them a bargain. They were hand-me-downs but in good shape. A couple of stray nametags in the clothes revealed that I knew the donors quite well.
We very much follow the faith of our fathers and mothers. I trace my affinity with gay and lesbian Christians to my parents taking me to have dinner with one of our fellow parishioners and his partner back in the mid 1980s. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that the partner was the first person I knew to die of AIDS. Of course, it’s not foolproof, my mother will give me the accidental first contact look every once in a while for a variety of reasons. But this is the same mother who read me The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and hinted at the allegory. My father likes to think himself as a weaker brother, but I sometimes am amazed at some of the things his faith has led him to do (and my mother has supported him despite her complete vexation with the facere of the Church.). But if you see your parents not taking these things seriously, living hypocritically, clearly ridiculing deep faith, expressing constant doubts at the Creeds of the Church, constantly embracing the latest liberal program for doctrinal reform, or just going to church for some sort of social reason, you’re not likely to see anything worthwhile about the Christian faith or long for relationship with God.
Clergy and other important adults at church also can be a liability in this regard. I wonder seriously if we are not presently undermining the meaning of the Eucharist for many, not by our CWOB practices, but with some of the clergy’s constant and somewhat vague attacks on “substitutionary atonement,” by which they seem to cover almost every explication of the Cross as a means of Grace. We speak of the bread and wine made holy and use the ancient words of Institution but yet shy away from singing ever again in English, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain and hath redeemed us to God, to God by his blood, to receive honor and riches and wisdom and strength and glory and blessing…” How does the Eucharist have meaning outside the saving work of the Cross? I’m not even talking about ILEOS’ stripped down baptismal liturgy, where I think we stumble at the threshold by not shocking the adults’ systems enough with the commitment they are undertaking.
I don’t know about some of these things. But I do know that the catechesis we give children is not just what we tell them in formal settings. Even in a less doctrinally innovative church than ILEOS, our best hope of raising youth to a mature faith is showing forth with our lives what we profess with our lips on Sunday mornings. I don’t need to tell this to the parents who read this blog. From what I hear of your parenting, you will be inspirations for my own. But I think it’s something some of you might need to consider as clergy or prominent adults in the congregation. How do the youth in the parish see you? How do they see their parents? Don’t always ask what you are doing for youth. Ask instead what the youth see you doing.
This passage particularly struck me:
“She spoke of how she’d gone through our Seekers confirmation program (which I co-led from 2001 until this year) as an agnostic who flirted with atheism. As she put it, she got confirmed at the end of her frosh year in order to honor the eight-month process of Seekers, not out of any newfound certainty in her faith. Interestingly, she reported from the pulpit on Sunday that she has — at last — begun to experience a sudden openness to God. After years and years of living by the [ILEOS] creed of the “gospel of social justice”, the creed that suggests that “Jesus was a heckuva nice guy and an important advocate for change”, she’s begun to find a more evangelical faith. She found it through her school’s gospel choir, and in the rhythm and emotion of gospel, she’s opened herself up to the possibility that Jesus was and is more than a human role model.”
Hugo goes on to say that this was a daring thing to say at the pulpit of ILEOS. In retrospect, I guess it was. At the time, I was thinking: “This parish puts more resources into children and youth work than any parish I’ve ever seen, but there is clearly something deeply lacking with our catechesis.” Hugo is the nice stolid ILEOS Low Churchman, and I am the nice stolid ILEOS High Churchman, but Hugo knows the facts on the ground better than I.
But to be fair, this is a general problem. I saw it in my much more moderate parish back East. In my third confirmation class (don’t ask), Providence had thrown together a variety of upper middle class teenagers with one thing in common: they didn’t want to be there. It’s a common rite of passage in the Episcopal Church. Confirmation becomes a get out of church free card, unless there are special circumstances (clergy children). So, of course, you are going to have a few atheists. One of my classmates was quite open about it. I was horrified.
It wasn’t until about two years later when I was put in charge of preparing the parents of infants and young children for their children’s baptisms that I understood why it was difficult to instill solid Christian belief of some kind in Episcopal youth. It wasn’t MTV, materialism, or simple adolescent rebellion, because the upper middle class children of the Baby Boomers aren’t rebellious. Most of us buy into the idea that if we get into the right college, we’ll sign the same social contract that brought our parents prosperity and never worry again. Thus, we spend a tremendous amount of effort and anxiety on the process of getting into a good college. Past generations spent some of this time hoping for conversion experiences, looking for signs of election, agonizing over their salvation, considering religious vocations, or becoming involved in pietistic practices.
And it wasn’t just so much of our existential angst did not turn to the things of God. Looking at the new parents of our congregation, it was fairly clear that most of them wanted their children baptized for perfunctory reasons or else to give them a values system of some sort. I shocked these sorts deeply without even intending it. I’ll never forget one poor woman who was undoubtedly shocked when I suggested that Satan could be something more than a metaphor. The look she gave me is what I expect to receive at an accidental first contact with an alien species, “You’re not from this planet, are you? Have I even heard of your planet?” There were exceptions. I still remember one couple in particular who I think were quite happy that someone was taking baptism seriously. A couple of years later, I was sorting a batch of clothes at a local thrift store when I kept coming across fine designer labels. Those were appreciated, since they could be sold at a premium and the fashionably thrifty ladies of the neighborhood still would consider them a bargain. They were hand-me-downs but in good shape. A couple of stray nametags in the clothes revealed that I knew the donors quite well.
We very much follow the faith of our fathers and mothers. I trace my affinity with gay and lesbian Christians to my parents taking me to have dinner with one of our fellow parishioners and his partner back in the mid 1980s. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that the partner was the first person I knew to die of AIDS. Of course, it’s not foolproof, my mother will give me the accidental first contact look every once in a while for a variety of reasons. But this is the same mother who read me The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and hinted at the allegory. My father likes to think himself as a weaker brother, but I sometimes am amazed at some of the things his faith has led him to do (and my mother has supported him despite her complete vexation with the facere of the Church.). But if you see your parents not taking these things seriously, living hypocritically, clearly ridiculing deep faith, expressing constant doubts at the Creeds of the Church, constantly embracing the latest liberal program for doctrinal reform, or just going to church for some sort of social reason, you’re not likely to see anything worthwhile about the Christian faith or long for relationship with God.
Clergy and other important adults at church also can be a liability in this regard. I wonder seriously if we are not presently undermining the meaning of the Eucharist for many, not by our CWOB practices, but with some of the clergy’s constant and somewhat vague attacks on “substitutionary atonement,” by which they seem to cover almost every explication of the Cross as a means of Grace. We speak of the bread and wine made holy and use the ancient words of Institution but yet shy away from singing ever again in English, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain and hath redeemed us to God, to God by his blood, to receive honor and riches and wisdom and strength and glory and blessing…” How does the Eucharist have meaning outside the saving work of the Cross? I’m not even talking about ILEOS’ stripped down baptismal liturgy, where I think we stumble at the threshold by not shocking the adults’ systems enough with the commitment they are undertaking.
I don’t know about some of these things. But I do know that the catechesis we give children is not just what we tell them in formal settings. Even in a less doctrinally innovative church than ILEOS, our best hope of raising youth to a mature faith is showing forth with our lives what we profess with our lips on Sunday mornings. I don’t need to tell this to the parents who read this blog. From what I hear of your parenting, you will be inspirations for my own. But I think it’s something some of you might need to consider as clergy or prominent adults in the congregation. How do the youth in the parish see you? How do they see their parents? Don’t always ask what you are doing for youth. Ask instead what the youth see you doing.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Now That's What I Call Quality
I returned home this evening to find Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance bookmarked with a green pamphlet: " 'Contraception': Abortion in Disguise." I wonder which one of my roommates is reading Pirsig at the moment.
And Now For Something Completely Different
Today, the Rector mentioned in his sermon that he was still mulling over why he received a standing ovation after last week's sermon. He then read a letter from a parishioner, a gay man who almost had been driven to suicide in his adolescence by his Baptist upbringing. Some time later, he found ILEOS and was baptized there last year. He presently was discerning whether he wanted to be confirmed, especially after the Primates' Meeting in Tanzania. But when he saw so many enthusiastically applauding the Rector's sermon last week, he felt that he would be welcome in the Episcopal Church. The crux of the sermon was that "four graces of ILEOS were under attack":
Problems abound here. The universalistic spin on common grace ignores that Jesus' point about common grace and God's providence in general was intended to demonstrate that we have no advantages before God in consequence of our birth. A Jew in isolation has no merit in himself just for being a Jew, nor a Muslim (likewise claiming descent from Abraham), nor an American, nor an Afrikaner, nor the countless other peoples that claimed being the chosen people of God made their injustice justice. The chosen people of God instead are those who do his will. And though I suspect this will not be a popular sentiment, a key part of His will is participation in Jesus Christ, which is not to say that there are not Jews and Muslims and Buddhists etc. who participate in his will revealed in nature or their scriptures. In fact, many seem to show the fruit of prevention by Christ far more clearly than some Christians, because Jesus is also the Wisdom of God at the heart of the world. But there remains something crucial about Christianity.
And, of course, let us not forget the third grace, which if universally implemented, would require a complete revolution in Christian identity. Wesley may have called the Eucharist the sacrament of conversion, but he preached in an era in which it was highly normative for people to be baptized as infants. Moreover, the Eucharist is the sacrament of conversion in that it is the visitation of Christ, the most fully of all human beings. It turns us to God in the most intimate way possible and reveals to us our imperfections. Despite a recent Salon article that suggests that it can convert the skeptical unbaptized, I still continue my objections to open communion. The inclusion of the Lord's dining fellowship should teach us not to wall ourselves from the evils of the world but live in hospitality with those with whom we differ. But we also should recall the table in the Upper Room, where Judas (as baptized as the rest of the Disciples) ate unworthily and was driven to great evil. An overly inclusive table could be a spiritual danger. And if that is what open communion is doing, it's bad hospitality.
As for the second grace, I doubt that this was really challenged in the Primates' Meeting. Many of the strident Global South Provinces ordain women to the priesthood. I understand that in Uganda the ordination of women seemed especially culturally appropriate. If certain conservative bishops and priests in their dioceses in ECUSA are as misogynistic as some liberal Episcopalians claim, they may find themselves quite uncomfortable in the future as their friends may continue to think that ordaining women is not a serious matter of doctrine or ontology but simply a matter of culture.
What the Primates' Meeting challenges is the fourth grace. Let us be clear. The Episcopal Church envisioned by the Primates in their pneumatological unity (a sort of average for theological purposes that smears much subtlety and disagreement) is one in which same sex unions are not blessed by the church (in public or in private or in Timbuktu, definitely not in Timbuktu) and those in such unions are not admitted to Holy Orders. Of course, some Primates would prefer far more repression, encouraging exclusion from lay leadership and reparative therapy. I still am unsure what Lambeth I.10 mandates for those ordained before they entered into same sex unions, but +VGR being degraded (though not deposed) follows fairly logically. But if they quote Lambeth I.10 to us as law, they have asked the letter of the law and no further. The Rector is right to see this as an attack. Complying with Lambeth I.10 would change the community he pastors radically. Even if much of the lay leadership weren't excluded, they would feel unwelcome.
So the sermon was a mixed bag. And so when much of the congregation rose around me in applause, I stayed seated and reflective. I do not applaud after sermons, not necessarily to follow Chrysostom's ban on applause in church, which could violate the Scriptural mandate to encourage one another at potentially appropriate times, but because God is the approver of the sermon. But the man who wrote to the Rector saw the incident as a measure of his dignity in that place, which is not something I want to deny him.
More Related
I still have no idea of what really is happening with the Nigerian legislation, but I am now a frequent (but very friendly) lurker here. This week I felt very frustrated with the whole issue. I have no influence with Martyn Minns or Peter Akinola. So I wrote the Archbishop of Canterbury's Press Officer an e-mail. I am afraid that no copy was saved for posterity, but I basically told the Archbishop of Canterbury that I thought it was obscene that the Anglican Church in Nigeria was promoting legislation that would prohibit the activities of Changing Attitude Nigeria, which just seemed like a bunch of Evangelical Anglicans who happen to be gay and have meetings very much Intervarsity Christian Fellowship (like the CU in the UK). I said that the legislation was analogous to the Conventicle Act. Good times. The Archbishop of Canterbury, of course, has not responded to me personally nor publicly on the issue, possibly because he has been too occupied with General Synod. But he may surprise us yet. Doesn't he know that liberal Episcopalians revere his words in this country. I barely heard anything specific about the Scriptures in today's sermon, but one of the Archbishop's essays was the central theme?
And Now For Something Completely Different
Today, the Rector mentioned in his sermon that he was still mulling over why he received a standing ovation after last week's sermon. He then read a letter from a parishioner, a gay man who almost had been driven to suicide in his adolescence by his Baptist upbringing. Some time later, he found ILEOS and was baptized there last year. He presently was discerning whether he wanted to be confirmed, especially after the Primates' Meeting in Tanzania. But when he saw so many enthusiastically applauding the Rector's sermon last week, he felt that he would be welcome in the Episcopal Church. The crux of the sermon was that "four graces of ILEOS were under attack":
However, there are four graces I want to hold up as graces that are being tested right now as severely as Jesus’ baptismal grace was tested in the desert. One is the grace of our knowing that Christians are not advantaged before God more than Jews, Muslims, and other people. The very theology of God's universal grace which makes the sun to shine on everyone alike, that very theology of grace is under attack by conservative forces in the Anglican communion. Another is the grace of women who are ordained as clergy. There are certain bishops who are interested in regressing to a time when we will not ordain women to the priesthood. Another is the grace of open communion – “whoever you are and wherever you find yourself on the journey of faith, you are welcome to receive the bread and wine made holy”. The fourth grace I want to bring to mind is the grace of blessing same-gender unions
publicly and joyfully.
Problems abound here. The universalistic spin on common grace ignores that Jesus' point about common grace and God's providence in general was intended to demonstrate that we have no advantages before God in consequence of our birth. A Jew in isolation has no merit in himself just for being a Jew, nor a Muslim (likewise claiming descent from Abraham), nor an American, nor an Afrikaner, nor the countless other peoples that claimed being the chosen people of God made their injustice justice. The chosen people of God instead are those who do his will. And though I suspect this will not be a popular sentiment, a key part of His will is participation in Jesus Christ, which is not to say that there are not Jews and Muslims and Buddhists etc. who participate in his will revealed in nature or their scriptures. In fact, many seem to show the fruit of prevention by Christ far more clearly than some Christians, because Jesus is also the Wisdom of God at the heart of the world. But there remains something crucial about Christianity.
And, of course, let us not forget the third grace, which if universally implemented, would require a complete revolution in Christian identity. Wesley may have called the Eucharist the sacrament of conversion, but he preached in an era in which it was highly normative for people to be baptized as infants. Moreover, the Eucharist is the sacrament of conversion in that it is the visitation of Christ, the most fully of all human beings. It turns us to God in the most intimate way possible and reveals to us our imperfections. Despite a recent Salon article that suggests that it can convert the skeptical unbaptized, I still continue my objections to open communion. The inclusion of the Lord's dining fellowship should teach us not to wall ourselves from the evils of the world but live in hospitality with those with whom we differ. But we also should recall the table in the Upper Room, where Judas (as baptized as the rest of the Disciples) ate unworthily and was driven to great evil. An overly inclusive table could be a spiritual danger. And if that is what open communion is doing, it's bad hospitality.
As for the second grace, I doubt that this was really challenged in the Primates' Meeting. Many of the strident Global South Provinces ordain women to the priesthood. I understand that in Uganda the ordination of women seemed especially culturally appropriate. If certain conservative bishops and priests in their dioceses in ECUSA are as misogynistic as some liberal Episcopalians claim, they may find themselves quite uncomfortable in the future as their friends may continue to think that ordaining women is not a serious matter of doctrine or ontology but simply a matter of culture.
What the Primates' Meeting challenges is the fourth grace. Let us be clear. The Episcopal Church envisioned by the Primates in their pneumatological unity (a sort of average for theological purposes that smears much subtlety and disagreement) is one in which same sex unions are not blessed by the church (in public or in private or in Timbuktu, definitely not in Timbuktu) and those in such unions are not admitted to Holy Orders. Of course, some Primates would prefer far more repression, encouraging exclusion from lay leadership and reparative therapy. I still am unsure what Lambeth I.10 mandates for those ordained before they entered into same sex unions, but +VGR being degraded (though not deposed) follows fairly logically. But if they quote Lambeth I.10 to us as law, they have asked the letter of the law and no further. The Rector is right to see this as an attack. Complying with Lambeth I.10 would change the community he pastors radically. Even if much of the lay leadership weren't excluded, they would feel unwelcome.
So the sermon was a mixed bag. And so when much of the congregation rose around me in applause, I stayed seated and reflective. I do not applaud after sermons, not necessarily to follow Chrysostom's ban on applause in church, which could violate the Scriptural mandate to encourage one another at potentially appropriate times, but because God is the approver of the sermon. But the man who wrote to the Rector saw the incident as a measure of his dignity in that place, which is not something I want to deny him.
More Related
I still have no idea of what really is happening with the Nigerian legislation, but I am now a frequent (but very friendly) lurker here. This week I felt very frustrated with the whole issue. I have no influence with Martyn Minns or Peter Akinola. So I wrote the Archbishop of Canterbury's Press Officer an e-mail. I am afraid that no copy was saved for posterity, but I basically told the Archbishop of Canterbury that I thought it was obscene that the Anglican Church in Nigeria was promoting legislation that would prohibit the activities of Changing Attitude Nigeria, which just seemed like a bunch of Evangelical Anglicans who happen to be gay and have meetings very much Intervarsity Christian Fellowship (like the CU in the UK). I said that the legislation was analogous to the Conventicle Act. Good times. The Archbishop of Canterbury, of course, has not responded to me personally nor publicly on the issue, possibly because he has been too occupied with General Synod. But he may surprise us yet. Doesn't he know that liberal Episcopalians revere his words in this country. I barely heard anything specific about the Scriptures in today's sermon, but one of the Archbishop's essays was the central theme?
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