Sunday, July 20, 2008

Be Careful How You Look at the World


[This sermon was preached on Sunday, 20 July 2008, at St Faith's Anglican Church, Vancouver BC.]

Propers: Genesis 20.10-19a; Psalm 139.1-12, 23-24; Romans 8.12-25; Matthew 13.24-30, 36-43

+ May your word, O Lord, accomplish that which you purpose and prosper in the thing for which you sent it. Amen.

When I was in seminary, our professor of church history, Bill Petersen, insisted that we become familiar with the biographies of the saints and luminaries of the church who were commemorated in the liturgical calendar of the Episcopal Church. I remember sitting with my classmates playing a game similar to Trivial Pursuit. “Who was Irenaeus of Lyons?” one of us would ask. Then whoever gave the most correct answer would be allowed to choose the next saint. “Ignatius of Antioch.” “John Chrysostom.” And on and on it went.

The life of one saint has remained in my memory because there were two versions of his story. Chad, Bishop of Lichfield, who died in 672, lived during a tumultuous period of British history. Among the tumults was the conflict between the indigenous Celtic Christian tradition and the newly-established Roman Christian centred around Canterbury in Kent. Chad had been made bishop in the Celtic tradition in 669, some four years after a synod meeting in Whitby had initiated the Romanization of British Christianity.

In a face-to-face outdoor meeting, Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury demanded that Chad cease the exercise of episcopal ministry. Chad had never sought to be a bishop and had accepted ordination in obedience to the call of his community. So, Chad stuck his pastoral staff in the ground as a symbol of his resignation and walked away. On this the two stories agree. What they don’t agree on is what happened next.

According to the Roman version, Archbishop Theodore was so impressed by Chad’s humility that he called Chad back, returned his staff and asked him to take up the ministry of a missionary bishop among the northern Anglo-Saxons, a post more congenial to Chad’s sense of vocation.

According to the Celtic version, the archbishop sent a deacon to pick up Chad’s staff. The deacon found he could not pull the staff out of the ground, nor could the succession of deacons the archbishop sent. Convinced that this was a sign from God, Archbishop Theodore yielded to the judgement of heaven and asked Chad to resume his episcopal ministry. At which point Chad pulled his staff out of the ground as easily as you please and then went off on his missionary work. I have my favourite version of the story, but that is no doubt caused by the strength of the ultimate strand in my Anglo-Norman-Celtic ancestry!

As my colleague, Sallie McFague, is fond of saying, “Be careful how you look at the world --- because that’s the way it is.”

Jacob is a man who believes that God is active in the world and in the events of our lives, whether waking or sleeping. His consciousness is open to the possibility that God can and does speak to human beings through various means --- if one is looking for such communication to happen. Even when one may not be looking for such communication to occur, God can touch us through our sub-conscious selves, our dreams, our intuitions. Jacob’s openness leads him to understand the importance of his dream, a dream that comes to him unbidden, unexpected and, as will become clear as his life progresses, inconveniently. But he does recognize that his world has expanded and that there are forces at work beyond his control. Even in a non-descript field God can reach out and reveal the divine presence and purpose.

And [Jacob] was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” Genesis 28.17

Paul is a man whose life has been turned upside down. From a persecutor of the followers of Jesus to a follower of the Way himself, Paul cannot help but acknowledge the mystery of the God who works in unexpected ways through unexpected agents in unexpected places. To the Christians in Rome, people whom he has never met but whose situation is well-known to him, Paul shares his perception of what God is doing in the world --- despite any external evidence to the contrary.

I consider the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God . . . . We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now . . . . Romans 8.18-19, 22

Live your future hope in the present, Paul writes. Look at the world through the lens of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Then the present will appear differently. Be careful how you look at the world --- because that’s the way it is.

My friends, we are sailing a sea that is filled with currents, doldrums and storms.

  • As we worship this morning, most of the bishops of the Anglican Communion are in England, trying to learn how to talk with one another about matters that divide one Christian from another and how to discover what unites one Christian to another --- even when we do not agree on how best to follow the way of Jesus of Nazareth. Some bishops have chosen not to attend, while others have chosen to risk the wrath of their colleagues by going to England.
  • As we worship this morning, the people of the Diocese of New Westminster are facing a future in which legal battles over property will most certainly occupy our attention. At the same time there are congregations who are exploring new initiatives in ministry --- even as the future shape of diocesan ministry is being discussed.
  • As we worship this morning, the people of this parish of St Faith’s are pondering how we remain faithful to the ministry established in this community some sixty years ago --- even as we consider how to pay the bills, how to serve our young people, how to support our elders, how to be a community of ‘open hearts, open hands, open minds’.

One perspective on all three of these situations is despair. Another might be cynicism. Yet another might be weariness. But then I think of Jacob and Paul, two men facing threats to their lives, their liberties and their pursuit of happiness --- to borrow from the Declaration of Independence. Neither chose despair nor cynicism nor weariness. Both chose to look at the world as the arena of God’s creating, reconciling and renewing activity. Both chose to look at the world as a place where God is not silent but constantly communicating to us --- if we choose to engage the world expecting such communication.


My friends, I have no illusions about the challenges of our personal and corporate lives. Nor am I a naïve Pollyanna who assumes that a world viewed through rose-coloured glasses is the world as it is. But what I do believe God’s word is to us today is this: Be careful how you look at the world --- because that’s the way it is.

  • Jacob believed that the world is a sacred universe in which God acts and that God does speaks.
  • Paul believed that the challenges of his time were real but could not thwart God’s purposes for the whole of creation.
  • In today’s parable two perspectives are evident. One sees fruitful grain to be nurtured and cared for, the other weeds to be culled. I suggest to you that, from God’s perspective, it is better to expend our energy on tending fruitful grain rather than obsessing with weeds. In a healthy field of grain, weeds find little purchase.
  • Those bishops who have gone to Lambeth, regardless of their views on the present controversies in our Communion, believe that it is better to talk directly with those with whom they may disagree rather than talk about them from a distance.
  • Those members of our own diocese and parish who continue to seek to share the life of the gospel we have come to know, regardless of the uncertainties of diocesan and parochial structures, are not blind to reality but rather are choosing to live with open hearts, with open hands and with open minds.

Which perspective we choose determines how we see the future. Despair, cynicism, weariness are real emotions --- but they need not become the lens through which one views one’s personal and corporate life. Challenges are real --- but open hearts, open hands and open minds will discover ways of responding that are life-giving rather than life-denying.

Be careful how you look at the world --- because that’s the way it is. Let us pray.

Through dreams and visions, O God, you broaden the horizon and hope of your people, that they may discover the meaning of your covenant, even in the midst of trial and exile. Increase the number of those who believe in your word so that all people may joyfully respond to your call and share in your promises. We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Pottage Now or Solid Food Later?


[The following notes formed the basis for a homily preached at St David's Anglican Church, Vancouver BC, on the 12th and the 13th of July 2008. My thoughts on the Esau-Jacob story were stimulated in part by my unease with the present situation in the Anglican Communion. On the one side are confessional-minded Anglicans who wish to dispel any ambiguity. On the other side are Anglicans who think that the way forward is to set aside credal statements of faith and rely on a particular understanding of post-modern thought. Neither, in my opinion, is the way forward, but the desire for a solution can lead us to accept pottage rather than solid food.]

Propers: Genesis 25.19-34; Psalm 119.105-112; Romans 8.1-11; Matthew 13.1-9, 18-23

O God of mercy, in Jesus Christ you freed us from sin and death, and by your Holy Spirit you nourish our mortal bodies with life. Plant us now in good soil, that our lives may flower in righteousness and peace. [We ask this through your incarnate Word, Jesus Christ, who with you and the Spirit of life, you live and reign, one God, now and for ever.] Amen.[1]

+ May I only speak God’s truth. May you only hear God’s truth. Amen.

1) From the first Sunday after Trinity until the second Sunday before Advent we enter what some liturgists call ‘ordinary’ time. More often than not, many of us simply call it ‘green’ time, that lengthy sequence of Sundays when the vestments are green and the lectionary includes texts that are confusing, seemingly irrelevant and even obscure.

2) At the present time we are in a part of the lectionary, the schedule of readings we use as a discipline to nurture our lives as Christians, that tells the stories of some of the patriarchs and matriarchs of the Jewish people as well as their connections with the peoples who also lived in what we frequently call the Holy Land. We have heard the story of Abraham and Sarah and now we hear stories of their descendants.

3) I must be honest with you. As I looked at the readings for today, I was not sure what I should preach for you, the people of St David’s. The gospel reading didn’t need explaining; Jesus does that for me. The reading from Romans was pretty straightforward. Our reading from Genesis seemed, well, just a little bit boring.

4) But then I found myself thinking about some recent developments in my professional life and various developments in our lives as Anglicans. I then realized that the story of Jacob and Esau was not so boring after all. It was downright topical. Let me explain.

5) This past week I and several other administrators at VST have been pondering a proposal regarding staffing. We’ve gone back and forth on this proposal several times over the past few days, a ‘to-ing and fro-ing’ that has been a bit annoying to me and to others. On Friday I realized what the problem was with the proposal: It was a proposal that would provide us with a short-term gain but lead to long-term pain. What we needed to do was to accept some short-term pain in order to achieve some long-term gain

6) Within our own church nationally and internationally we are struggling with how we proclaim the good news of God in Jesus of Nazareth in a way that is faithful to our heritage as Anglican Christians but open to our present situation as people of faith who live and witness in diverse cultures and social situations. Various proposals have been put forward to help us maintain our unity in the face of the very real social, cultural and theological differences that account for the controversies swirling around us. These proposals range from ones that are quite clear and specific about what is and is not Anglican Christianity, while others suggest that any attempt to define what is and is not Anglican are useless. What I find in both extreme positions is the desire to settle things quickly, to achieve short-term gain, while risking long-term pain.

7) Friends, the story of Jacob and Esau has many levels of meaning, too many for me to recount today. But let me suggest to you one that relates to our present situation. Esau is willing to sacrifice his birth-right to satisfy his immediate hunger. In other words, he prefers a short-term gain and, as a consequence, will suffer the long-term pain of losing his father’s blessing, a blessing that in Jewish tradition conveyed concrete benefits in terms of lands, goods and position in the family. ‘I’m hungry now,’ Esau snarls to his brother, Jacob. ‘What good are lands, goods and position to me if I starve to death?’ Imagine what a little patience would have brought to Esau.

8) Whether we are talking about St David’s or the Diocese of New Westminster or the Anglican Church of Canada or the Anglican Communion, we are in a time of pain. For some the pain arises from witnessing the decline of our congregations in the face of a changing society. For others the pain arises from witnessing our church battle over issues that touch the core of our understanding of what it means to be human and to be made in the image and likeness of God.

9) When we are in pain, we are often tempted to call out, ‘Make it stop. Give me, give us, something that will make the pain go away.’ But a quick fix, a pain reliever that masks the underlying causes of our pain, may contribute to a longer term dissolution of the values and commitments we hold dear. We may find that our desire to feel better may rob us of the opportunity to nurture and expand our ability to serve God and to participate in God’s mission to bring full life to all of God’s beloved.

10) My sisters and brothers, we cannot afford to be the Esau’s of our generation of Christians. We need to be prepared to endure the present pain and uncertainty within our congregation, church and communion without looking for quick or easy answers. In Jesus of Nazareth God has offered us a future, a heritage to be shared with generations yet unborn and with peoples who do not yet have the freedom to enjoy the fullness of life that is their birth-right. They are asking us to lift up our hearts and minds and hands and eyes so that we can see that we are on a journey that still has far to go, but a journey that leads us to a destination where all our hungers will be sated and our thirsts quenched.

11) May God give us strength for that journey. May God give us confidence to work towards our destination, life in Christ and life in its fullness. Amen.



[1] Revised Common Lectionary Prayers (2002) with doxology added by RGL+.

How Long, O Lord, How Long?


[The following homily was preached at the funeral of the Rev'd Kathy Hoodikoff, VST '07. Kathy was a presbyter of the Diocese of British Columbia serving at Christ Church Cathedral, Victoria BC, who died after a sudden and devastating recurrence of cancer on 19 June 2008.]

Propers: Isaiah 25.1-6; Psalm 139; 2 Timothy 2.8-13; Luke 4.14-21

+ My sisters and brothers, may only God’s truth be spoken and only God’s truth heard.

Doug, Stacey and Marissa, on behalf of the Principal, the Faculty, the Students and the Staff of Vancouver School of Theology, I convey to you our sorrow at Kathy’s death and the assurance that you are very present to us in our prayers and thoughts.

To the other members of Kathy’s family I want you to know how much Kathy was loved and respected by her colleagues and the faculty. We had all hoped to watch her ministry as a priest develop in the years to come, but we shall now only be able to give thanks for the deep, rich and mature ministry she had already begun to exercise.

To all Kathy’s colleagues and friends here in the Diocese, especially Bishop Cowan, and the Cathedral, especially Dean McMenamie, I say thank you for the gift of ordained priestly ministry to which you called Kathy as her expression of our shared baptismal priesthood.

When I first heard the news of Kathy’s death, I offered the prayer that I have prayed too many times in recent years, the Kaddish, the prayer of the Jewish mourner. Today I ask you to join me in this prayer by responding ‘Blessed be God for ever.’ after each ‘Amen.’ Let us say ‘Amen!’ ‘Blessed be God for ever.’

Magnified and sanctified be the great name of God in the world which God created according to the divine will. May God establish the reign of justice and peace in your life and in your days, and in the lifetime of all God’s people: quickly and speedily may it come; and let us say Amen! Blessed be God for ever.

Blessed, praised and glorified, exalted, extolled and honoured, magnified and lauded be the name of the Holy One; blessed be God! Though God be high above all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations, which are uttered in the world; and let us say Amen! Blessed be God for ever.

May there be abundant peace from heaven and life for us and for all people; let us say Amen! Blessed be God for ever.

More than two thousand and five hundred years ago the residents of Jerusalem realized that their hopes had become ashes. Although they had been permitted to return to and rebuild the city of Jerusalem and to re-establish some semblance of autonomy, their initial joy had been replaced by bitterness and disappointment. A significant portion of the Jewish people remained in Babylon, while others lived in Egypt. The ruined city of Jerusalem could not regain the glory of the days of Solomon. The Temple, God’s dwelling place on earth, had been destroyed by the Babylonians and only partially and poorly re-built.

To this discouraged people a prophet brought words of hope and promise. This unknown prophet, not the Isaiah whose vision in the Temple still shapes our own worship with the song of the seraphim, ‘Holy, holy, holy’, but another prophet, spoke words that both captured the reality of the present moment and proclaimed a vision of what is God’s ultimate purpose regardless of how the present seemed:

‘For you have been a refuge to the poor, a refuge to the needy in their distress, a shelter from the rainstorm and a shade from the heat. When the blast of the ruthless was like a winter rainstorm, the noise of aliens like heat in a dry place, you subdued the heat with the shade of clouds; the song of the ruthless was stilled. On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.’ (Isaiah 25.5-6)

And the people faced their present with resolution and journeyed towards God’s future with hope.

Two thousand years ago that same people found themselves under the rule of another empire whose leaders claimed obedience, tribute and worship. The poor were becoming poorer, the rich richer and the Jewish religious authorities walked a tight-rope between collaboration with the imperial authorities and the assertion of Jewish identity. Charismatic religious and political leaders emerged on the left and on the right. As each one took his place on the stage of Jewish life, people wondered, ‘Is this one? Is the Messiah here? Will Roman rule finally be replaced by the rule of God?’

Into this maelstrom sailed Jesus of Nazareth, ‘filled with the power of the Holy Spirit’, preaching and teaching, healing and comforting, exciting the religious imaginations of the poor and arousing the fears of the powerful. On one fateful Sabbath, he was asked to comment on the lectionary reading for the day, a text taken from that portion of the book of Isaiah that was composed during the exile some five hundred years prior when the possibility of a return to Jerusalem was on the horizon. This text contained the volatile words, ‘to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour’, words which many understood to mean the time of the Messiah. And Jesus puts a match to the tinder of messianic hopes with his words, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

We know the roller-coaster that followed this simple yet dangerous proclamation. Crowds begin to gather and religious authorities begin to fear. Healings and teachings become felonies rather than manifestations of the grace of God. Plots are hatched; the rabbi arrested, tried, condemned and executed. News of his resurrection spread and hopes for his return rise and fall. His followers are persecuted, imprisoned and martyred. One Christian writer encourages the beleaguered community by reminding them, ‘If we have died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him’. (2 Timothy 2.11a-12a)

And the people faced their present with resolution and journeyed towards God’s future with hope.

And here we are today, a day that for me brings back memories of a day in seminary, some thirty years ago now, when we officiated at the burial of a two-year-old boy drowned in a preventable accident. When the time came to put the dirt on his coffin, we all filed up behind the family. We had said all the right words. We had said wonderful things. We had sung wonderful hymns and we had even read passages from scripture which are exceedingly hopeful. But it had been a cold winter and the dirt was frozen. And when his mother, who had been told that she would never have another child, came to put her piece o dirt on his grave, she picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at the coffin. A true, a more true expression of how most of us had been feeling than some of the words that were spoken. To this day, some thirty years later, I still hear the sound of that clod of dirt clanging against the small coffin. And I still remember the dent that I saw as I passed by to put in my handful of dirt.

Today you and I are in Jerusalem after the return from exile, when the hopes for the future are confronted by the harsh realities of the present. Today you and I are in a synagogue in Nazareth hearing words that promise liberation even as we know ourselves to be burdened by the bonds of grief. Dare we hope that the words spoken by the prophets are true? Dare we risk believing that God’s last word is life not death? Dare we celebrate the life and ministry of Kathy, daughter, sister, wife, and mother, diocesan lay leader and priest?

Let us dare these things, yes. For Kathy’s sake and for the world’s, let us dare these things. But let us also dare to cry out, to lift our voices to the One who created us, who redeemed us, who empowers us by the Spirit, saying, ‘How long, O Lord?’ as we acknowledge our sense of loss and of promise denied. Let us lament the death of one who had already demonstrated how alive she was in Christ even as we proclaim our hope that the vision of the world which she believed and lived will come soon. Let us lament the too-short ordained priesthood of one who sought to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour even as we commit ourselves, whether lay or ordained, to that same priesthood of presence that Kathy embodied. Let us lament that our present only shows us glimpses of the world that God intends for all God’s creatures even as we give thanks for the glimpse of that world made known to us in and through Kathy.

And God’s people will face their present with resolution and journey towards God’s future with hope.

Kathy, into paradise may the angels lead you. At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

May the choirs of angels welcome you, and with Lazarus who once was poor may you have peace everlasting. Amen.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Thoughts on Full Communion

[These comments were in response to an inquiry by Jason Derr regarding the full communion agreement between the Anglican Church of Canada and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada.]

Dear Jason,

Here are my responses to your questions. I have copied my response to the national staff members responsible for the Joint Commission as a courtesy to the Commission. While I am a member of the Joint Commission, I do not wish to speak on its behalf but on my own responsibility.

1) Why did we do this? The visible unity of the Christian church has been a commitment of the Anglican and Lutheran communions for a century or more. We believe that this unity can be achieved by stages and our agreement is a significant stage in the effort to the full visible unity of the church.

2) Why the Anglicans? During the Reformation there were numerous contacts between continental Lutherans and the Church of England. Neither communion had ever condemned the other and, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, there were examples of cooperation between the two communions, particularly in Africa and India. Lutherans and Anglicans have understood themselves to be reform movements within the catholic church and have tended to honour our catholic heritage even while being critical of certain emphases within that heritage.

3) How are we expressing this agreement on all levels? Representatives of the two churches serve as members of the national executive councils of both churches and on the major national committees and commissions of the two churches. National events are planned in order to facilitate the participation of the members of both churches. Dioceses and synods are cooperating in the appointment of clergy, the establishment of new congregations, the development of shared ministries and the continuing education of clergy. Local congregations are cooperating in areas of mission and ministry.

4) What does this mean for the local Lutheran congregation? First, it means that the congregation has a ready-made partner in their Anglican neighbour. Second, it means that there are now numerous opportunities to cooperate in areas of mutual concern and ministry. Third, it means that Lutherans and Anglicans can explore how they can worship together and support one another in pastoral ministry.

5) How did it come about? Anglicans and Lutherans have been engaged in bilaterial conversations internationally since the latter decade of the nineteenth century. Since the early twentieth century, the Church of Sweden and many of the national Anglican churches have been been in full communion. In Canada our conversations began in the early 1970's in response to an international bilateral dialogue that began in the late 1960's and to the dialogue between Lutherans and Episcopalians in the United States. These bilateral dialogues in the United States and Canada were further fuelled by conversations between British and Irish Anglicans and Lutherans in the Baltic and Scandinavian countries. After a series of Canadian Lutheran and Anglican discussions resulted in shared affirmations and common statements as well as a period of interim eucharist sharing, the National Church Convention and the General Synod authorized the creation of the Joint Anglican-Lutheran Working Group in 1995 with a six-year mandate to facilitate a process that could result in full communion in 2001. This Working Group consulted widely throughout the country, facilitated study days involving clergy and laity from both churches and worked closely with the bishops and councils of both churches to produce 'The Waterloo Declaration'. The Declaration was approved by both churches on 6 July 2001.

6) What is it? Full communion is the breaking down of divisions by recognizing the full apostolicity of each church, the authenticity of each other's ordained ministries and the transferability of clergy and laity between the two churches. Full communion is a commitment to walk together, honouring our unity in faith and witness without abandoning our distinctiveness. Full communion is a relationship between equals that celebrates shared values and vision.

7) How does this effect clergy and future clergy in both churches? The agreement means that the present clergy of the two churches are eligible to serve in either church depending upon mutually-agreed guidelines governing movement between the two churches. These guidelines, available on-line at either national church website, are not intended to inhibit movement but to ensure that clergy are sensitive to the ethos of the other church as well as the differences in some of our constitutional arrangements. Future clergy should be trained in such a way as to become 'bi-lingual', ready to serve in the church that ordains them as well as their partner.

8) What does this mean for the lay person? For the lay person it means that we respect each other's baptism and confirmation practices. It means that we are committed to finding ways to support each other rather than compete with each other.

9) In a post-Christian world where most lay people do not identify by denomination, does this even make sense? Yes, it makes sense. There are no homogenized Christians and we delude ourselves if we believe that our traditions are irrelevant. In a world in which we are pulled by self-satisfying individualized spirituality on the one hand and exclusivist sectarianism on the other, the witness of two historic multi-cultural, multi-lingual communions drawing near and choosing communion rather than competition is significant.

10) Are Lutheran and Anglican churches restricted to playing together or can any given congregation also run programmes with any other local church or any denomination? Full communion is a specific relationship between Anglicans and Lutherans in Canada that is governed by the Waterloo Declaration. Either national church is free to enter into formal agreements with any other Christian body, although such an agreement does not bind the partner church to a similar arrangement. Congregations are free to engage in collaborative ministry with any other Christian community subject to the polity and policies of their own communion. There are numerous collaborative ministries being undertaken throughout our country between Christians of a wide variety of communions, 'Kairos', the Canadian inter-church justice organization, being just one.

I hope that these answer are helpful to you.

Blessings,

Richard

Saturday, June 21, 2008

A Continuous Call

[The following sermon was preached on Saturday, 21 June 2008, on the occasion of the celebration of forty years of ministry by the Rev'd Arthur Nash, rector of St Margaret of Scotland Anglican Church, Burnaby, BC.]

Propers for Ember Days: Isaiah 44.1-8; Psalm 87; 1 Peter 2.4-10; John 17.9-16

+ My sisters and brothers, I speak to you in the name of the Singer of creation who sings the Song of redemption with the Breath of sanctification. Amen.

In the spring of 1968 I left school one afternoon to walk to my mother’s pre-school where I worked in the afternoons. As I walked along the busy street that led from the school to the pre-school, I suppose that I was day-dreaming. The day was warm, the sun was shining and there were no teenaged problems to occupy my mind.

I heard a voice in the distance calling ‘Richard! Richard!’ The voice was faint but distinct. I looked around me, but I could not see anyone. I continued to walk and the call came more clearly and more insistently, ‘Richard! Richard!’ Once again I looked around but saw no one. I began to think that I was having a religious experience. I knew that St Paul had heard the voice of Jesus calling his name. I knew that many of the prophets had had similar experiences. But at the ripe age of fifteen I had had no such experience in my life.

I began to wonder what this meant. Was I about to have a vision? Was I about to die? I truly had no clue. The voice then became so clear, so intense that I could locate from whence it was coming. ‘Richard! Richard!’ I turned to look to my left. There was Jim Zorman leaning out of his mother’s car. ‘I’ve been yelling at for ten minutes! Do you want a ride or not?’ So much for my religious moment.

But God called. God is calling. And God will call again.

This is the heart of the message from that section of the book of the prophet Isaiah we know as Second Isaiah. This unknown prophet writes to the people of Israel who are living in exile in Babylon and who have begun to doubt whether the covenant God had established with Abraham and renewed through Moses is still in force. Some members of the community have turned away from their ancestral faith to follow the gods of the conquerors. Others have withdrawn into an atmosphere of despair, while others are convinced that God has abandoned them because of their faithlessness.

‘But now hear, O Jacob my servant, Israel whom I have chosen! Thus says the LORD who made you, who formed you in the womb and will help you: Do not fear, O Jacob my servant, Jeshurun whom I have chosen. For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour my spirit upon your descendants, and my blessing on your offspring. They shall spring up like a green tamarisk, like willows by flowing streams.’ (Isaiah 44.1-4)

To the people the unknown prophet says, ‘God called you. God is calling you. And God will call you again. Do not be deceived by what you see around you. God is at work and God has never revoked the covenant made with your ancestors.’

Forty years ago Arthur Nash was ordained deacon on the 24th of June, the feast of John the Baptist. In those forty years the Anglican Church of Canada has experienced events that have challenged the faith of some, renewed the faith of others and left many of us pondering what the future of our ministry will be in an increasingly pluralist and secular society.

  • In 1968 the Book of Common Prayer was still the ‘new’ prayer book. But General Synod had already realized that the Prayer Book had not addressed a number of the issues that faced the worship life of the church and had authorized bishops to experiment.

  • In 1968 the Anglican Church of Canada was still getting used to the idea that divorced Christians whose spouse was still living could re-marry in the church rather than obtain a civil marriage and, if they found a sympathetic priest, obtain a blessing after the fact. Some Anglicans would see this change in discipline to threaten the life of the Christian family and to be a concession to the laxity of contemporary Canadian society.

  • In 1976 the first women were ordained to the priesthood and some Anglicans chose to leave the Anglican Church of Canada rather than accept what was understood to be a departure from catholic faith and order.

  • In 1985 the Book of Alternative Services brought to a close a ten-year period of liturgical revision and caused so much consternation that a society was founded to defend the Prayer Book.

  • In 1989 the General Synod received the ‘Plan for the Restoration of the Diaconate’ and this Diocese began its work, a work which has culminated in the ministry of some twenty-five active deacons, several retired deacons and two more to be ordained tomorrow night. Some Anglicans still see this development as an unnecessary ‘clericalization’ of the church’s ministry.

  • In 1992 General Synod embarked the church on a road to explore what it means to be a human being made in the image and likeness of God and the role that sexuality plays in our human identity, a journey which continues with many shocks, tumults and conflicts.

  • By 1998 our church committed itself to reconciliation with aboriginal peoples, a commitment that almost led to the bankruptcy of the national church, but that has given birth to a process of truth and reconciliation which has the potential to heal the deep wounds that have divided the peoples of this country.

These are but some of the events that have coloured the last four decades in the life of the Anglican Church of Canada. Tonight we gather with Arthur to celebrate forty years of active ministry in this challenging community of faith, perhaps to commiserate the departure of ‘the good old days’ and to anticipate a new phase in the life of this man whom God called, whom God is calling and whom God will call.

Like the people of Israel to whom the unknown prophet of Second Isaiah spoke words of encouragement and hope, so today the prophet speaks again to remind us that our vocation is not a one-time event but a continuous song in our ears, reminding us of who we are and whose we are as we face the challenges of ministry. The Anglican community who called Arthur to ordained ministry has undergone significant changes over the past forty years. If we had simply held on to an understanding of an unchanging vocation, then we would have faded into the pages of the religious history of Canada. But because we have understood God’s call to us as a community, just as Arthur has understood his call as a priest, to be a continuous song, a song that grows and adapts to the world into which it is sung, we are still here --- beat up a little, perhaps; bewildered at times, perhaps; angry at times, perhaps --- but still here to live out the ministry entrusted to us all in our baptism.

‘But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.’ (1 Peter 2.9)

In tonight’s reading from the gospel of John we are reminded of what our telos, our ultimate purpose, is as friends of Jesus. We are sent out by Jesus into the world, just as God sent Jesus into the world, to proclaim the all-embracing love of God that transcends all natural, ethnic, political, social and national distinctions that human beings make in our efforts to divide between ‘us’ and ‘them’, ‘friend’ and ‘stranger’, ‘favoured’ and ‘rejected’. We are ‘God’s own people’ not as a possession to be maintained at any cost, but as a gift to be shared freely no matter what the cost , so that every human being, man, woman or child, can become fully human, fully alive.

So, my sisters and brothers, let us give thanks to God that forty years ago Arthur heard the song that God quietly sung into his ear and followed its tempo to lead us in ministry. Let us give thanks that this song continues to be sung, even when our ability to hear may be hampered by the challenges of ministry in Canada today. Let us give thanks that God still has work for us to do --- even when we contemplate the retirement of one of God’s beloved from ‘active’ ministry.

Whether rich or poor, sheltered or homeless, healthy or sick, we are surrounded by those who need to become fully alive after the stature of Jesus, who need to know that the God who created all things still reaches out through us to break down ancient barriers and to bring word of the promised reign of justice and peace.

God called all of us, lay and ordained, active and retired, as witnesses of this reign. God is calling all of us, young and old, male and female, to be witnesses of this reign. God will call all of us again, rich and poor, wise and foolish, to bear witness to this reign in the changing times ahead.

‘But now hear, O Jacob my servant, Israel whom I have chosen! Thus says the LORD who made you, who formed you in the womb and will help you: Do not fear, O Jacob my servant, Jeshurun whom I have chosen. For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour my spirit upon your descendants, and my blessing on your offspring. They shall spring up like a green tamarisk, like willows by flowing streams.’ Amen.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

There is no God but God

Last night I had the privilege of giving the traditional 'Text to the Graduates' at our Convocation. The text of that word follows here.

A Text to Graduates

12 May 2008

A word from the third chapter of Daniel, beginning at the thirteenth verse.

13 Then Nebuchadnezzar in furious rage commanded that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego be brought in; so they brought those men before the king. 14 Nebuchadnezzar said to them, “Is it true, O Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, that you do not serve my gods and you do not worship the golden statue that I have set up? 15 Now if you are ready when you hear the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, drum, and entire musical ensemble to fall down and worship the statue that I have made, well and good. But if you do not worship, you shall immediately be thrown into a furnace of blazing fire, and who is the god that will deliver you out of my hands?”

16 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered the king, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to present a defense to you in this matter. 17 If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. 18 But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.”

Some of you who are graduating tonight know that this passage is one of the more important scriptural texts in my understanding of who God is and how we are called to live out our relationship to this mysterious God who refuses to be confined by human expectations. I lay it before you tonight as you embark on the ministries to which you have been called. I have no doubt that you will face the choice of worshipping an idol, in whatever shape it takes, or facing a furnace of blazing fire with no guarantee of a happy issue out of all your affliction.

We live in a time when some Christians, on the left and on the right, have made an idol of the Scriptures, demanding capitulation to simplistic interpretations of what the Scriptures say about the challenge of engaging a living God in the midst of a living community. ‘Submit,’ they say, ‘and all will be well.’

We live in a time when some Christians have made an idol of reason, demanding capitulation to a faith in the living God eviscerated of its strangeness, of its vision of a reality that is more than our senses, of a God who is not always reasonable. ‘Submit,’ they say, ‘and all will be well.’

We live in a time when some Christians have made an idol of tradition, demanding capitulation to a faith in a living God stagnated in a given time and place, whether that era is the fourth century, the sixteenth or even the twentieth. ‘Submit,’ they say, ‘and all will be well.’

No idol, no matter how privileged by time and practice, can take the place of the living God, a God who is neither tame nor predictable, a God who permits generals to deny food and relief supplies to millions of people, a God whose silence often deafens us with its depth.

So face the furnace of blazing fire, not looking for rescue but courage, not looking for approval but fidelity. Do not dose your community with some snake oil derived from alluring and simplistic understandings of the Scriptures or reason or tradition. Rather than this, give them the living God, witnessed to but never imprisoned by the Scriptures, intuited but never comprehended by reason and celebrated by but never enshrined in our traditions. Give them the living God who may bring us to life only after we have passed through a furnace of blazing fire. But for God’s sake, give them this living God not a comfortable or secure counterfeit.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Speak in a Language Understood of the People

The following remarks were given at a conference on the Anglican Covenant held at General Theological Seminary (10 to 12 April 2008)

Vernacular Particularlity versus Global Universalism:

A Pivotal Issue for the Anglican Covenant

The Rev’d Dr Richard Geoffrey Leggett

Vancouver School of Theology

Let me begin my comments by making my status clear. Although I am a member of the Faith, Worship and Ministry Committee of the General Synod of the Anglican Church of Canada and a member of the Joint Commission of the Anglican Church of Canada and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada, I am not empowered to speak for either today. Nor do I speak for Vancouver School of Theology.

I speak as an Anglican liturgist who has been privileged to serve nationally and internationally. I speak as a liturgist who has worked with aboriginal people in Canada and the United States for more than twenty years as they wrestle with the relationship between local culture and the received Anglican tradition. This experience has caused me to question the necessity for a covenant other than the Quadrilateral, an approach which bore fruit in our full communion agreement with the ELCIC, and the Anglican commitment to what can be called the vernacular.

The St Andrew’s Draft of a proposed Anglican covenant needs to be seen in the context of the on-going search within the Anglican Communion to identify where authority is located and, more importantly, how authority is exercised. This debate first raised its head over such issues as artificial contraception and the remarriage of divorced persons but reached a fever pitch with the ordination of women in certain provinces of the Anglican Communion in the second half of the twentieth century.

In 1997 the Inter-Anglican Theological and Doctrinal Commission released the so-called ‘Virginia Report’ on authority. The Report recommended strengthening what it termed the instruments of unity: the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lambeth Conference, the Primates’ Meeting and the Anglican Consultative Council. A number of responses were made to this Report, most expressing profound concern at its centralizing tendencies. I wish to note that two of the more critical reports came from the Anglican faculty of Vancouver School of Theology and from the Faith, Worship and Ministry Committee of the General Synod of the Anglican Church of Canada.

I do not need to rehearse for this audience the history of the events concerning the present controversy regarding the full inclusion of gay and lesbian disciples of Jesus Christ in the life of the Anglican Communion. Suffice it to say that the controversy gave rise to the Windsor Report of October 2004. The Windsor Report resurrected the spirit, if not the flesh, of the Virginia Report, recommending the strengthening of the roles and authority of the familiar Virginia quartet of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lambeth Conference, the Primates’ Meeting and the Anglican Consultative Council. Two more radical suggestions were made: (i) the creation of a council of advice regarding arrangements for shared episcopal ministry and (ii) the admonitions that, in the election of bishops and the selection of representatives to international Anglican bodies, consideration be given as to whether the bishop elected and/or the person appointed will be acceptable to ‘others’ in the Communion. Once again, the Faith, Worship and Ministry Committee expressed its profound reservations with the proposals of the Windsor Report.

Let me continue my comments on the covenant process with some observations by David Bosch, the late South African theologian of mission. At the end of his chapter on ‘New Testament Models of Mission’ Bosch has a section entitled, ‘Where the Early Church failed’. He gives three examples.

First, the early Christian community stopped understanding itself as leaven and began to understand itself as the loaf.

Those who followed [Jesus] were given no name to distinguish them from other groups, no creed of their own, no rite which revealed their distinctive group character, no geographical center from which they would operate. . . . The community around Jesus was to function as a kind of pars pro toto, a community for the sake of others, a model for others to emulate and be challenged by.[1]

In the course of time the Jesus community simply became a new religion, Christianity, a new principle of division among humankind.[2]

Second, the early Christian community ceased being a movement and became an institution.[3] Bosch describes movements as (a) progressive; (b) active, influencing rather than being influenced; (c) future-oriented; (d) willing to take risks and (e) willing to cross boundaries. On the other hand, Bosch describes institutions as (a) conservative; (b) more or less passive, yielding to influences from outside; (c) past-oriented; (d) anxious and (e) guarding boundaries.

Third, the early Christian community ceased to be a community of communities and became subject to Gentile hegemony.[4] The original Christian movement was thoroughly Jewish in its perspective and its mission. It faced the challenge of the Gentile mission and envisioned a community of communities, Jewish and Gentile, that could witness to the good news of God in Jesus Christ. However, the vision of a community of communities failed and was replaced by a Gentile hegemony that eventually resulted in the anti-Semitic and anti-Jewish bias of much of Christian history.

I suggest that the proposals for ‘unity’ outlined in the St Andrew’s Draft Text, mooted earlier in the Virginia and Windsor Reports, represent a similar failure of mission on the part of the Anglican Communion.

Is the Anglican Communion moving from being ‘leaven’ in the body of the church catholic or a new religion?

Archbishop Michael Ramsey once described the vocation of the Anglican Communion as one of ‘disappearing’. He spoke of the Communion as a community within the church catholic that shared a common story. He insisted, however, that its purpose was not to be a ‘church’, i.e., an ecclesial community with competing claims over and against other ecclesial communities.

One of the risks of the St Andrew’s Draft Text and the covenant process is the creation of a centripetal force that will change the roles of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lambeth Conference, the Primates’ Meeting and the Anglican Consultative Council from their present roles as nexuses, places where paths come together, into centres from which paths lead out. When that happens, the Communion ceases to be a communion and becomes a church.

Is the Anglican Communion a movement within the church catholic or an institution?

Following on my observations above, the present climate in the Anglican Communion seems to be encouraging a shift from being a movement within the church catholic into an institution. To those of us with a love-hate relationship with the Anglican Communion, it may surprise us to suggest that we are not yet truly an institution, but I do believe that there is a significant shift in view that is occurring among us. If we look carefully at the proposed covenant and at recent actions of at least one instrument of communion, the Primates’ Meeting, what appears is an environment that is (a) conservative; (b) more or less passive, yielding to influences from outside; (c) past-oriented; (d) anxious and (e) keen to guard boundaries.

Is the Anglican Communion a community of communities or a like-minded community dominated by one theological culture?

In my teaching I have frequently described Anglicanism as a Christian movement committed to ‘national catholicism’. Our ‘catholicism’ is expressed in the four points of the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral:

The Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, as ‘containing all things necessary to salvation,’ and as being the rule and ultimate standard of faith;

The Apostles’ Creed, as the Baptismal Symbol; and the Nicene Creed, as the sufficient statement of the Christian faith;

The two Sacraments ordained by Christ himself --- Baptism and the Supper of the Lord --- ministered with unfailing use of Christ’s words of Institution, and of the elements ordained by Him;

The Historic Episcopate, locally adapted in the methods of its administration to the varying needs of the nations and peoples called of God into the Unity of His Church.[5]

Here I would focus on the fourth point of the Quadrilateral, especially the phrase, “. . . locally adapted in the methods of its administration to the varying needs of the nations and peoples called of God into the Unity of His Church.”

Our ‘national’ character finds expression in our commitment to inculturate the gospel in the places where God has put us for mission. Another way of expressing this ‘national’ or ‘inculturated’ character is to use the concept of the vernacular. This commitment to the vernacular can be found in the foundations of the Church of England. In the final paragraph of the statement ‘Of Ceremonies, Why Some be Abolished and Some Retayned’ printed in the first Edwardian prayer book, we read the following:

And in these all our dooynges wee condemne no other nacions, nor prescribe anye thing, but to oure owne people onelye. For we thinke it conueniente that euery countreye should use such ceremonies, as thei shal thynke beste to the setting foorth of goddess honor, and glorye: and to the reducyng of the people to a moste perfecte and Godly liuing, without errour or supersticion: and that they shoulde putte awaye other thynges, which from time to time they perceiue to be most abused, as in mennes ordinaunces it often chaūceth diuerselye in diuerse countreyes.[6]

In Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, Richard Hooker, the foundational Anglican theologian, responds to the argument that Scripture is the sole source of wisdom with an affirmation of how God’s wisdom pervades all of creation.

Whatsoever either men on earth, or the Angels of Heaven do know, it is as a drop of that unemptiable fountaine of wisdom, which wisdom hath diversely imparted her treasures unto the world. As her waies are of sundry kinds, so her maner of teaching is not merely one and the same. Some things she openeth by the sacred bookes of Scripture; some things by the glorious works of nature: with some things she inspireth them from above by spirituall influence, in some thinges she leadeth and trayneth them onely by worldly experience and practise. We may not so in any one special kind admire her that we disgrace her in any other, but let all her wayes be according unto their place and degree adored.[7]

In recent years the International Anglican Liturgical Consultation has considered what unites Anglicans in worship as well as what celebrates the distinctive cultures in which we live and serve. This point of view is perhaps most clearly articulated in the statement and essays associated with the meeting of the Consultation in York in 1989.

Thus we believe that [Resolutions 18, 22 and 45 of the Lambeth Conference 1988] (and the relevant parts of the Lambeth ‘Mission and Ministry’ section report [paras 180-186]) call in question attempts to identify Anglicanism, whether locally or worldwide, through any common liturgical texts, ethos or style. We believe the ‘essential Anglican norms’ of Lambeth Resolution 47 are largely those contained within the Lambeth Quadrilateral and described within Lambeth Resolution 18 --- i.e. the Bible, creeds, sacraments of the gospel, and episcopal ordination. We believe that use of vernacular language to be foundational to inculturation, and within that value highly the ‘traditional liturgical materials’ to which Resolution 47 also refers. Our common liturgical heritage in items such as the Lord’s Prayer promotes common prayer, sustains a dialogue with the scriptures, and conserves an element of the universal amid the particular of inculturated worship.[8]

Inculturation is the ‘vernacularization’ of the language of the Christian gospel and the specific traditions which may have been the missionary agents of first contact.

Inculturation must . . . affect the whole ethos of corporate worship, not only the texts but also, for example, the use of buildings, furnishings, art, music and ceremonial. From one aspect it means cultural decolonialization of worship, from another it requires recognition of the special needs of an ethnic or other minority, which may be culturally distinct from the prevailing ethos of the Province. True inculturation implies a willingness in worship to listen to culture, to incorporate what is good and to challenge what is alien to the truth of God. It has to make contact with the deep feelings of people. It can only be achieved through an openness to innovation and experimentation, an encouragement of local creativity, and a readiness to reflect critically at each stage of the process --- a process which in principle is never ending. The liturgy, rightly constructed, forms the people of God, enabling and equipping them for their mission of evangelism and social justice in their culture and society.[9]

It is this vernacular quality of the Anglican tradition which is potentially at risk in the covenant process. It is this openness to innovation and experimentation which is potentially at risk in the covenant process. It is the attentiveness to the special needs of a given minority within a Province which is potentially at risk in the covenant process. This vernacular quality is not maintained by statute but by the patient process of reception and communion within diversity.

If Anglicanism is to survive as a communion --- that is, in maintaining actual communion among its very diverse members across the world --- it will do so only by acknowledging the centrality of its spiritual tradition. . . . In so far as we decline to do so, we shall probably try to substitute, at the heart of Anglicanism, the kind of doctrinal and disciplinary rigidity that we have both rejected and coveted in the Reformed and Roman traditions. If we do so, we will tear Anglicanism, both as a community and as tradition, into increasingly small pieces.[10]

Our unique vocation as a Communion that claims both its catholic and reformed heritage may lie in our willingness to reject centripetal proposals in favour of those that focus on remaining at the Table and listening to one another as we journey through the difficult process of vernacularization.

No one in the Anglican Communion really knows what the practical implications of our communion with one another may yet be in terms of working out what each national church does and how it hears the gospel. For example, the Episcopal Church in the United States now ordains women to the priesthood and episcopate, while some churches in Africa reject such ordinations. Similarly, Episcopalians deplore polygamy while African bishops debate the possibility of permitting it within the church. If such disparate churches are willing to remain in communion, that in itself is an expression of the Incarnation. We Anglicans who are in communion with one another are having to ask how the gospel of Jesus Christ is to be incarnate in a particular time and place, and to a particular people and community. How do we enjoy continuity in our shared tradition of belief while still making room as new political and cultural situations arise?[11]

Despite the differences that are straining the bonds of affection and communion within our Communion, I am convinced that these bonds will not be strengthened by constitutional institutions but rather by a renewed commitment to a unity within diversity that is courageous enough to weather patiently the process of the vernacularization of the Christian gospel. Thank you.



[1] David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission, American Society of Missiology Series, no. 16 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1991, 2002), 50.

[2] Bosch 2002, 50.

[3] Bosch 2002, 50-51.

[4] Bosch 2002, 51-52.

[5] The Book of Common Prayer (USA 1979), 877-878.

[6] The First and Second Prayer Books of Edward VI, Everyman’s Library, no. 448 (London: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd., 1910; New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. Inc., 1910), 288.

[7] Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity II.1.

[8] David R. Holeton, ed., Liturgical Inculturation in the Anglican Communion including the York Statement ‘Down to Earth Worship’¸ Alcuin/GROW Liturgical Study, no. 15 (Bramcote, UK: Grove Books Limited, 1990), 12.

[9] Holeton 1990, 9-10.

[10] William Countryman, The Poetic Imagination: An Anglican Spiritual Tradition (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1999), 190; as quoted Patricia Bays, Anglican Diversity: Challenges for the 21st Century (Toronto, ON: The Anglican Book Centre, 2001), 116.

[11] James Griffiss, The Anglican Vision, The New Church’s Teaching Series, no. 1 (Toronto, ON: The Anglican Book Centre, 1997), 65.