The Therapist's Boots

I am reminded of a therapist at Yale who always turned up for sessions with his clients wearing green rubber boots.  When I asked  him why, he explained that every morning he cleaned out his dog run, then he hosed off his boots and came to work; and I knew, as sure as I’m sitting here, that after talking with me he was going to hose off his boots one more time before going home.  His whole life was wading in crap from morning to night.

Many of us from the more liberal seminaries received no training in the theology of worship and prayer, or in systematic theology. Instead we received enough training in psychology and counseling to become cheap therapists. Got ordained, gonna get me some green rubber boots, and get to work. I hear tell from them what knows that this is still goin' on. When you think of it, it's kinda terrifying.

What were we trained in?  Altizer and Hamilton’s “Death of God Theology”, Joseph Fletcher’s “Situation Ethics,” that bloodless theologian Paul Tillich, biblical skepticism and social relevance.  There wasn’t enough weight to save a soul, not even our own.  What are the seminaries teaching today?  “Foundations for Theological Praxis,” “MCC Polity and General Convention,” “The Role of the Debates of Human Sexuality in Global Christianity and Mission,” “Third World Feminist Theology,” and “The Social Gospel and the New Social Creed.” 

There was an old bumper sticker seen around Harvard Square that advised “Eschew Obfuscation.”  If you don’t have a grasp of the simple basics of the Christian Faith and can’t apply them to yourself, you don’t have anything but obfuscation.  What is amusing in a sad sort of way is that the American Episcopal Church doesn’t understand why it is mistrusted in much of the two-thirds world.

"You will arise and have compassion on Zion, for it is time to have mercy upon her; indeed the appointed time has come.  For your servants love her very rubble and our moved to pity even for her dust," [Psalm 102;13,14].

Purple Fever: A Retrospect

The honour I never almost had:

Purple Fever is an awful disease, it was candidate’s night, and the next day was the election of a Bishop.  I who was never nominated, and did not desire to be nominated, am somewhat chagrined that not only will I not be elected, but I will not even have bragging rights of saying; “Back in two thousand and something I was nominated for Bishop.”  Even the possibility of a small self-glorifying exaggeration is clean cut off, I fortunately can’t even say, “I was almost elected.”

I looked over the slate of candidates.  There were two obviously good men who were willing to let themselves be lured into a greater suffering on behalf of the church.  Of the others, two had been afflicted with awful forms of purple fever.  One of them eventually would end up in legal problems of the financial type, the other was just a sad individual.  At least they had bragging rights.   Come to think about it, at an earlier election one devout and holy candidate, or so we were told, was eventually defrocked for child abuse.  Purple fever can, and does, infect the most unsuitable candidates.

This purple fever is an insidious disease that has led some to leave The Episcopal Church in their lust to become bishops.  I know one “bishop” duly consecrated by somebody, somewhere, who has no diocese, no churches, no priests, and works as a gardener, and another who admitted to having only 12 people in his congregation, and six similar sized congregations under his shepherding care; but he’s a bishop and he holds wonderful ordinations for his poorly trained disciples.  I know another who left The Episcopal Church with great fanfare and great expectancy hoping to become a bishop in one of the African dioceses, only to discover too late that they don’t consecrate divorced men as bishops.

It’s a terrible thing, this irony of not being nominated for a job I wouldn’t want and wasn’t even nominated for. It’s somewhat akin to being a guardian cherub desiring ultimate enthronement and then being summarily forced out of heaven by those insufferable angels.  “I, the Morning Star, I have fashioned for myself a coat of many colours, I do not have to dress in white.  I do not want to be dressed in white kowtowing to His royal goodness YHWH.  I almost seized the heavenly throne; a throne I could have had if only, so at least I have bragging rights.”

The great mistake in all this is the attempt to affirm one’s value by becoming a human doing instead of accepting the humiliation of being a human being.  In this unrestrained ambition the greater the doing, the greater the power, the emptier the soul!  The truth is that it is a fatal error to say, “I do, therefor I am,” and perhaps René Descartes missed the truth, “Je pense donc je suis,” “I think, therefore I am.”  It is closer to the mark to say, “I love, therefore I am.”  Ultimately our human identity is defined by our relationships.

Roots: A Prayer

Heavenly Father: Over the years I have often said, “I am an Anglican first, and an Episcopalian second.”  That declaration and awareness has comforted me in the past, but what if the Anglican Communion itself is torn asunder?  I am saddened, but not shaken by the prospect, because the fact is that my roots are sunk even deeper than the few centuries of our specific Anglican history.

I am on the Canterbury Trail to the defaced shrine of the Holy Martyr Thomas á Becket.  Well he understood the problems of royal privilege and its potential for contaminating the Church in England.  As an old colonial boy I find it frustrating that the royals and parliament have so much say in the life of the Church, but you know I love the pomp and ceremony, the skirl of pipes and the rumble of drums

My roots reach back through the long history of the English Church, through Milton, and through Blake who prayed, “And did the Countenance Divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills?  And was Jerusalem builded here Among these dark Satanic Mills?”  Through John Jewel and “ the Coming Down of the Holy Ghost and the Manifold Gifts Thereof,”  through Cranmer and the Book of Common Prayer, through Julian of Norwich and Margery Kempe, through Walter Hilton and Richard Rolle, through blesséd Anselm who teaches me that the strength of my salvation is the strength of Christ.

My roots reach further back through Augustine of Canterbury, through Saint Benedict and the ancient Monks of Nursia, through Antony of the Desert and the wild-eyed desert hermits.  My roots reach back through Canterbury, past Roman paving stones to ancient Celts and Britons by their smoky fires smouldering in the damp of an English spring.

My roots reach even further back through wandering missionaries, Christian tradesmen, and Roman soldiers who bearing the cross on their hearts first tread upon the soil of the land of my forefathers. 

My roots reach even further back through the long and dreadful glorious history of the martyrs of the early church, through the letters and missions of Paul and Peter, Jude and James and John and all the Gospellers now radiant in glory.  “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord.  In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit” (Ephesians 2:19-20).

It is actually that last declaration that binds together the whole of this tumultuous history of the Church catholic and militant that I have loved, and still love with every fibre of my being.  My Father it is immersion in your Spirit, poured out upon the Church through the hands of Jesus our Head that makes sense of the whole.  It is one of your miracles that the Church in all its brokenness over the centuries still survives. 

Time and time and time again you gather the broken shards together and craft again a golden vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the Master of the house, ready for every good work (2 Timothy 2:21).  I find that instead of grieving or despairing, I am excited by the shaking of the foundations of our beloved Anglican Communion.  When “the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is shattered at the well” (Ecclesiastes 12:6), nothing less than your holy hands are at work.  My Lord, let me see!  Show me the new golden vessel as it rises like the Phoenix from the ashes.  Break us, mold us, make us, fill us again most glorious Lord and Father.  We are yours, through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

WingDing Theologies

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There are a number of wingding theologies out in the ether; glory dust, holy laughter, the superstitious use of blessed salt, and other marginal teachings based, not on Scripture but on experience, and on fervent desire.  One of the more pleasant manifestations was the sudden pervasive scent of roses stealing upon the gathered faithful.  In visiting one church I was surprised by animal noises ostensibly given by the Holy Spirit.  Either barking in the Spirit, or barking mad!  Frankly, some of it is just good fun, but the danger is that people will seek the manifestations rather than seek the Lord Himself.  The underlying problem is a lack of familiarity with systematic theology and tradition.  That deficiency leads to a misuse of biblical texts to support all kinds of strange innovations.  

Experience is not the proper basis for the formation of Christian doctrine.  Doctrine should be formulated on God’s self-revelation in Holy Scripture, and in the Person of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Doctrine should be also formulated not only with both feet planted firmly on Holy Scripture, but with one eye on the centuries of tradition within the Church.  Years ago, Dennis Bennett, a Charismatic leader in the late 20^th Century observed that, “The Charismatic Movement is recreating all the ancient heresies as though Church History never existed.”  A simple way for the average Anglican to check the authenticity and safety of any of these manifestations is to ask two questions.  1.  Is it biblical? 2. Does it square with The Book of Common Prayer.

Of course the same standard should be applied to any of the innovations from the more liberal side of the Church.  Applying to a special revelation of the Holy Spirit justifying homosexual behavior, as Gene Robinson did at one point, is not a basis for developing a theological view of human sexuality.  Just because so-and-so is doing something claiming that they have the Holy Spirit, doesn’t make it right.  The first response is this, “Show it to me in the Bible.”  One current problem with this is that some theologians are not above justifying sexual gymnastics with textual gymnastics.  As for the second check point, that of The Book of Common Prayer, there is the persistent movement to change The Book of Common Prayer by adding additional services to ‘sanctify’ their position, making what amounts to A Loose Leaf Book of Common Prayer.

Mary’s Challenge

            As a Scottish Protestant boy I had found understanding Mary to be a challenge.  Long ago, too long ago, a fine oil painting of Madonna and Child was donated to my very Scottish Presbyterian Church creating a dilemma for the elders.  After some deliberation the painting was placed upright on the floor of the boiler room, facing the wall.

            The problem of course was the Roman Catholic adulation of Mary.  We instinctively felt that was out of balance, but it would never occur to us that there was some middle ground. 

            That there was some middle ground wouldn’t occur to most Episcopalians either.  With the revision of our last Book of Common Prayer all the saint’s days and the days commemorating Mary were shuffled from our consciousness.

            Who is Mary? Who are the saints?  We hardly know.

            The Anglican Charles Williams, a friend of C. S. Lewis, and one of the Inklings, writes,

'We begin then with the Birth and with the Mother of God...  

To her, for example, may be decently applied all the titles of the Litany of Loretto...  She is     the Mother of Love, purissima most pure, inviolata inviolate, admirablilis admirable; she is the Maid, virgo veneranda venerable virgin,  potens powerful, Clemens merciful, she is the mirror of all mystical titles—speculum iustitiae mirror of justice, sedes sapientiae seat of wisdom, causa nostrae laetitiae cause of our joy, domus aurea house of gold, stella matutina morning star, salus infirmorum health of the sick: Unless the identification of marriage love with Christ be accepted, to press the similarity farther would seem profane.  

But any lover to whom the application of the titles we have quoted seems natural and right may ... may so dare to apply in a very real sense the titles which remain—Mater divinae gratiae Mother of divine grace, Mater Salvatoris Mother of our Savior, Rosa Mystica mystical Rose, Refugium peccatorum refuge of sinners, Regina Prophetarum Queen of Prophets.  Not certainly in herself is she anything but as being glorious in the delight taken in her by the Divine Presence that accompanies her, and yet is born of her; which created her and is helpless as a child in her power.  

However in all other ways she may be full of error or deliberate evil, in the eyes of the lover, were it but for a moment, she recovers her glory, which is the glory that Love had with the Father before the world was.  Immaculate she appears, Theotokos God-bearer, the Mother of God.”[i]

That is a mouthful for an old Protestant boy, but Williams' understanding is orthodox; so I go to the boiler room of my memory, take the picture from its dusty corner and gently blow away the cobwebs of my Scottish antipathy and hang the painting on the wall of the sanctuary of my mind.

---

[i] Charles Williams, Outlines of Romantic Theology, (Berkeley: The Apocryphile Press, 2005), p. 14

The Invisible Knight: The Assassin in the Church

In the realm of King Arthur there was a knight called Garlon; a dangerous and murderous man who rode invisible. Many a knight he slew as he rode with the thunder of unseen hooves approaching furiously, his invisible lance piercing the body of his victim, and occasionally leaving the broken spear, now fully visible, behind, as he rides away unseen. The stories of Garlon appear briefly in Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte D’Arthur.

The knight Sir Balin rides from King Arthur’s court in the company of a fair damosel whose only love has been slain by Garlon, this despicable knight who rides invisibly. As they journey they are joined by another knight. “As they came by an hermitage even by a churchyard, there came this knight Garlon invisible, and smote this knight, Perin de Mountbeliard, through the body with a spear. Alas, said the knight, I am slain by this traitor knight that rideth invisible.”

Garlon rides off seeking another victim. He is an example of deadly, arrogant and cowardly power. Some in churches sit in the saddle in place of Garlon, riding invisibly, piercing their victims with the lance of their tongue and thundering off unseen into the knight seeking another victim; or perhaps, in repeated heinous acts they circle around the same victim piercing them again and again. One of the characteristics of Garlon is that he is oblivious of the pain that follows in his wake. He is a law unto himself. Everything in his world circles around himself and he takes pleasure in being the arbiter of life and death. He is quick to take offense. His deadly invisible attacks are a manifestation of the lie. He is the worst kind of backstabber in the most graphic kind of way. Garlon has a severe form of narcissistic personality disorder, or to be quite blunt, he is evil. Some who sit in the seat of Garlon ride side-saddle. Garlon, and those like him, will continue to ride invisibly until they are clearly seen in the cold light of day.

The death of Garlon is instructive. Sir Balin encounters him at a great feast provided by King Pellam. Garlon, and others like him, can always be found quite visible in the midst of our celebrations. Where else are they going to select their victims? Garlon is arrogant and seeing Balin’s sudden interest in him he smites Balin on the face with the back of his hand and tells Balin to do what he came for and eat his free meal. Balin replies, “this is not the first despite that thou hast done me, and therefore I will do what I came for, and rose up fiercely and clave Garlon’s head to his shoulders.”

Garlon was found enjoying himself at a banquet and even though others know who he is, and what he does, no-one has the courage to intervene until Balin comes on the scene. There are those who are in thrall to Garlon and vicariously enjoy his exploits; and there are others who participate in his evil by not resisting it. Those who support Garlon actively or passively have made “self” the center of their lives and are afraid of anything that will threaten the needs of the self. Give Garlon a chance and he will continue to ride unseen, circling round again and again thrusting his hapless victims through. For Garlon, each unconfronted secret attack is a power trip that feeds his ego and reaffirms for him that he is the center of the universe. He lives to control, and enjoys it best when he can do it unseen.

Why is Sir Balin successful? Balin has not made self the center of his life. In fact his whole quest is a quest to gain King Arthur’s favor. His power is drawn from his desire to please his king. The most noble of the Knights of the Round Table live for another.

The lesson here is obvious. Once Garlon is uncovered he is vulnerable. Thinking himself invulnerable he is even arrogant enough to launch an attack on Balin in public. There is only one way to deal with Garlon. If you fail to meet his attack when he is seen, he will attempt to slay you when he is invisible. Turn your back and there will be the thunder of unseen hooves approaching from the distance. Garlon cannot be reasoned with and the only solution is a power encounter. Garlon must be publicly identified, confronted, and vanquished, before he has a chance to disappear and do his deadly work again.

Canterbury: On the Enthronement of Justin Welby as the the Archbishop of Canterbury

            For many of us in the Anglican Communion, Canterbury is our spiritual home.  It is a grief to us this day to see so many in our church move away from the centrality of Canterbury in both our affection and continuing history.  The long history of Canterbury down through the centuries testifies to the power of the Gospel and the frailty of the men and women everywhere, and in every denomination, who profess it.  To call for separation from Canterbury is to sever the flowering branches from the root that so long ago was rooted in Christ, and to this day, through that root, draws grace and strength to proclaim the Gospel in this complex and wicked world.

            “Return, return, O Shulammite, return, return, that we may look upon you. Why should you look upon the Shulammite, as upon a dance before two armies?” Song of Solomon, 6:13.