The Unity of the Church, part II

Seriously folks, read this and come back at me - I know this is muddled, so help me out.

We discussed in a previous post how catholic Christians understand the unity of Christ's Church in terms of church order and doctrine. I now intend to expand that to cover mission and sacraments, but first let's consider why it's even needful to have the conversation. Catholic Christians by definition have a particular vision for the unity of the Church: in every place, there is a "local church," understood as the diocese. This is the whole Christian community in a particular geographic area with one pastor, the bishop, with subpastors (his priests) holding the charge of particular congregations/parishes. This community as a whole is understood to believe, practice and teach the Catholic faith as found in the Bible, the Creeds, and the Councils, to celebrate the Sacraments (chiefly baptism and Eucharist) and to engage in mission and Christian formation. We seek to become like Christ, and to invite others to be part of God's plan for saving the world.

Here's the awkward question: what shall be our view of other religions, like Methodism?

But seriously: remember that I started the discussion by insisting that everyone should be scandalized by Christian division, because it is a scandal. Everyone should be scandalized by any instance of people who take the name of Christ treating other people in unloving or destructive ways. It should go without saying (but I shall say it) that inter-denominational fighting and punditry is something I have no time for whatsoever, as it hinders both my transformation and yours. You will not hear me sitting around talking about "those awful benighted ______s, who are scarely Christians at all." Not. Interesting.

(Now exposing the deep poverty of certain dessicated practices, like the care and cultivation of praise bands, is another matter all together. People need to hear that.)

Keep in mind, then, that I share the concerns of the folks whose opinions I'm about to criticize. Many well meaning Christians conflate Christian charity and fraternal love with the rationalization of division by saying something like the following: "We all have different ways of worshipping and serving God, so it's okay if I go the Baptist church and you go to the Lutheran church, and they go to the Methodist church, as long as we all love Jesus and preach the gospel." This is a charitible stance, and the intent is worthy of respect. However, it is an unintentionally dishonest statement. Even if we imagine that there is some form of "the gospel" that we can understand both outside of and within our own culture and language, all of these separated Christians who want to affirm each other in their separation are actually testifying by their own choices that all of those groups understand the story of the Gospel and its demands for discipleship in radically different ways, and that these ways are radically different enough to be Church divding.

The unity of Christ's church has never been predicated upon warm feelings, but rather unity in teaching the faith and living according to the Christian story. If I really agreed so wholeheartedly with my separated breathern that we teach and live what is essentially the same Christian religion, why we do we consider our Christian communities to be different churches?

To live in separated churches, we have to have a particular reason to do so that we consider more important than the basic blanket demand for Christian unity that we find in John's depiction of Jesus? In the above example, the particular reason is ... personal preference. Does anybody really think it comes down to that?

So let us ask together: what are the important church-dividing issues? What are the ways that our different communities have of teaching and living the Gospel that justify our separation? If we can find no justification, what shall we do to end the separation?

Why Ecclesiology is a Rough Subject

As soon as one decides that the nature of the Church is a first-order rather than a second order question (see here), things begin to get very difficult. One can no longer say that the constitution, identity and practices of different Christian communities amount to a matter of preference. If one believes that one's life in the Christian community (what kind of life, and what kind of community) will impact the nature or extent of one's connectedness to Jesus, then comments like, "I go to x church because I like the music and you go to y church because you like the education program ceases to make any sense. Preferences, no matter how fastidious or well-meaning they are, are not the reason for the Church's existence.

For better or worse, I always need a reason.

I find that when I am no long prepared to speak about preferences as a theological category, I quickly have to start pinning down what the concrete attributes are of those concrete communities that are connected to those communities started by Jesus. As I work these things out, I find a two-edged sword.

1) If I really get hardcore about this, I'll have to face up to the real and potential inadequacies of my own (adopted) tradition. The Roman, Eastern Orthodox, and Reformed Christian traditions all have particular criticisms of what Anglicanism would seek to be, even at its best. I have to do business with those criticisms, and I might well find my "spiritual home" lacking.

2) In the same way, if I were to write about this journey, I would have to admit the ways in which I believe other Christian traditions to be lacking. I've not often been shy about this, but I don't believe that it's necessarily an edifying discussion to have. Surprise, even the folks to look to me for encouragement or challenge in the Faith (in this space or otherwise) are not eagerly awaiting any pronouncements on which churches are real churches. I'd probably end up sounding like the Pope, but with different conclusions, i.e., the requirements for being understood as fully and properly "the Church" are ABCD, and while it's nice that you've got BCDE over there, if you don't have A, you're Christians but don't experience the life of the Church in its fullness. I suspect the Holy Father and I would just pick different letters.

I might talk about what I think those letters consist of later on, or I might not. We'll see.

Still Thinking About the Church

We've just passed the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. I wanted to write, but really felt as if I have nothing to contribute to such a thing. I've been thinking and reading on the subject of ecclesiology for some time now (more thinking than reading lately), and it always seems to be a very divisive subject.

I have no use for Christians who take deep pride in their particular spiritual pedigree or denomination. In this region that pride is often in the form of their supposed lack of a "denomination." "I'm a non-denominational Christian," many will say gleefully - as if that were possible or desirable. Perhaps it is, but I cannot treat it as such a foregone conclusion.

Why even think about "ecclesiology" - what makes the churches "the Church" at all? If a Christian shares perspective with most forms of Protestantism, there is little reason indeed. In contemporary Christian life, it is commonly agreed that Jesus did not "found" any church at all, and that our churches are our own little man-made organizations that try to carry out the work of spreading the gospel and converting the heathen more efficient. I know this sounds glib, but that's what it comes down to: that the church exists because it is useful to our version of the Gospel (which we believe to be a separate thing from the church) simply because Jesus wants his people to "meet together."

On the other hand, what if Jesus didn't come to impart some information about God and a revised moral code? What if he didn't come with a way for us to have an individual personal relationship with God that we could practice with other people if we wanted to? What if Jesus really did found a community that really did have a real and physical existence in the world? What if being joined to Jesus through baptism and being joined to this real physical community really is the same thing, the same Godward movement that makes us alive and saves us from death?

Upon Christian initiation, one becomes part of Christ - in Pauline language, the Body of Christ. While I understand that one should avoid an ultimate identification of Christ and those who make up the Church (it is full of sinners, after all, for Jesus loves the riff-raff), we must say that if Jesus founded a "community of salvation," that an impaired communion with that Church entails an impaired communion with Christ himself. If that is a worthy question and a valid concern, our ideas about what makes up "the Church" really matter very much.

The bottom line is this: if the bedrock of the Christian life and God's work of transforming love in the world is a "personal relationship with Jesus," then theories about "the Church" are non-essential issues. However, if our membership in that community determines in some way our relatedness to God and his work of salvation for the world, than it is a first-order theological problem.

Anglicans

Has anybody paid attention to the Anglican/Roman Catholic buzz of late? One of the "continuing churches" that formed from the Episcopal Church (which we call T(p)ECusa or TCGC, if you'll recall) when that denomination started ordaining women to the presbyterate in the late 1970s has petitioned the CDF (that's Inquisition to you guys) for entry en masse to the Roman Church.

You can find some late details on this request by the Traditional Anglican Communion (TAC) here at Britain's Catholic Herald. Many of you will already know that Anglican priests who wish to become Roman Catholics may usually take advantage of "the pastoral option," and be ordained as RCC priests soon after renouncing their Anglican Orders. (This is interesting to folks because the Vatican doesn't mind that many of these men are married.) And of course, any Anglican lay person is free to just hook up at their local Roman Catholic parish.

I think the reason for making the broad request is that the bishops of the TEC would like to be ordained (or "conditionally ordained") as bishops and retain oversight in their parishes - this wouldn't happen if they renounced their orders and entered the Roman Catholic Church as laymen.

h/t: de cura animarum

Ecumenism Revisited

I was discussing with a friend yesterday how common religious relativism has become among conservative and liberal Christians. No, I mean that seriously. Christian unity is important; indeed it is imperative. It is a good and right thing for Christians to engage in conversation, friendship, and common mission across denominational and confessional lines. However, there are really unhealthy ways in which to talk about it.

"I'm a Baptist, because that's what I think is right for me. I'm glad that you're a Methodist, because that's what God has called you to be. It doesn't really matter because we all love Jesus."

Such sentiments mean well, but they are problematic. While beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, truth is not. God may very well call people to build their lives in particular denominational traditions, but I believe that if Jesus is faithful to his own prayer for unity in John 17, the trinitarian God has a trajectory in mind for all churches, that at least in the eschaton, we'll all be one. The way to build such unity is not through relativism.

When I say, it's good and of little consequence for me to be a Baptist or Anglican or Lutheran, and I say the same about your affiliation as a Pentecostal or Catholic or Methodist, I might be playing nice, but I am not being respectful. When I downplay the significance of such things, I also deny the value of those traditions.

If I am to say that the Baptist tradition has something real and meaningful and important to offer the rest of the Church of Jesus Christ, I must first say that it is of some significance for folks to be Baptists. If there is anything good in a tradition, I must first say that it matters.

Would it surprise you to hear me say that I am an Anglican Christian because I think it is the most faithful way, in this time and place, to respond to and embody the fact of God's reign in Christ? If I believed otherwise, I would certainly go and do something else. I would certainly be surprised to hear a friend confess that they did not believe their tradition to be a more faithful way - otherwise, why would they be involved as they are? However to say this is not to say that other Christian traditions are not faithful - such binary thinking gets us nowhere, and is as uncharitable as it is untrue.

I only treat my own tradition with integrity when I say that it matters that one is part of it, and that it offers particular gifts for Christian faith and practice, and that - heaven forbid - people should get on board with it.

When I can say this, I can then dialogue critically with other traditions: I can learn them, and receive the challenge they offer to my own, and how I live and understand the faith, and offer challenge to them in return. I can acknowledge the ways in which they can teach me to strive toward a move faithful obedience to Christ, and be warned away from pitfalls. If I also believe such things matter, they can learn from me and criticize me as well.

My point? We don't have tell ourselves that our differences don't matter in order to play nicely together, and it's only when we know that our differences matter very much that we can learn from one another.