How Shall we Hope for the Anglican Communion?

As we move into a new year, there is a special spur to pose the question, "what hope is there for the future of the Anglican Communion?". To which I would answer: "from God, there is much hope indeed; but not from women and men". With mortals, it is impossible, but with God all things are possible (cf. Mark 10: 27). "Put not your trust in any child of earth, for there is no help in them When they breathe their last, they return to earth, and in that day their thoughts perish. Happy are they who have the God of Jacob for their help!" (Ps. 146:2-4). November of 2010 was an illuminating moment, a convergence of false human hopes. A raucous and highly touted effort was inaugurated, filled with misinformation, to derail the ongoing process to consider positively the Anglican Covenant in the Church of England; for all that the Church of England Synod voted overwhelmingly to move the Covenant along to its dioceses; yet in doing so, no serious discussion took place as to the Covenant's internal and external challenges; and within moments almost of the Synod vote, a statement by key Global South Anglican primates denounced the Covenant altogether, even as the Archbishop of Canterbury let it be known that all was well with the Communion's leadership and they would be meeting in January despite promised absences by many leaders fed up with the inability of their councils to follow through with decisions. The confluence of messages in these few days was almost surreal in its display of unrepentant contradiction by the shepherds of the Anglican flock, a Babel of non-communicating and self-affirming declarations. Certainly, there is no hope for the Anglican Communion from the side of her human leaders. And that, to be sure, is a serious problem. As Francis Bacon long ago pointed out, in his celebrated essay "On Sedition", "it is a certain sign of a wise government and proceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by hopes". Yet when leaders, even in their short and pithy speeches (or today, interviews and press-releases) do "utterly cut off that hope which men had entertained" they do "infinite harm", and by taking away the hopes of those who are yearning for something better, they fan the flames of further internal destruction. To point this out here is not to contribute to such hopelessness. It is rather to warn us all, in a sense, away from the allure of hollow claims. And it is to ask for more of our shepherds, not settle for less, and be pulled in direction of increased ecclesial disarray. 1. We must ask for more from the leadership of The Episcopal Church (TEC), including especially the Presiding Bishop. TEC's shepherds spin out hopelessness largely by refusing to engage their brothers and sisters in the Communion humbly and on the basis of the actual concerns of their brethren. Why does the PB insist on being present, e.g. at the Primates' Meeting when she knows that this presence will derail the Meeting's functionality? Some will answer: but she has a right to be present, and TEC's actions arise out of genuine commitments and careful discernment of the Gospel; should she not be heard by others, just as you would have her listen to them? Fair enough: but the issue goes beyond an interchange of views. What has happened is that TEC has demonstrated repeatedly an incapacity or unwillingness to deal with the views of the rest of the Communion with actual Christian responsibility. Such responsibility is assumed in council and by respecting the decisions of council. TEC will do this on several bases: Communion councils have no legislative authority, she says, and therefore do not require adherence; majority votes by global South patriarchs are intrinsically undemocratic, and so should not be granted power; the Kingdom of God favors diverse viewpoints, and so uniform actions in the Communion are actually unfaithful. But the main reason TEC gives for not deferring to the decisions of the Communion's representative bodies is that she is being "prophetic", and therefore is being called by God quite precisely to oppose and subvert these decisions. The self-given prophetic mantle is a claim that is difficult to argue against, by definition. But it is worth noting that the convenience of this difficulty is itself a major part of the problem in the Communion: TEC has adopted a self-identity that cannot be questioned and overturned, and thereby she has become impervious to all reason. This is not just a matter of style, as though the point is "let's all tone down our rhetoric" - a suggestion one hears a good bit, as if talking more quietly would solve our problems. No: at issue here is that TEC has laid out a way of approaching disagreement that brooks no compromise, and therefore makes impossible constructive engagement altogether. On this matter, I commend a fine essay by Cathleen Kaveny in the recent volume Intractable Disputes about the Natural Law: Alisdair MacIntyre and his Critics (Notre Dame, 2009). Kaveny, hardly a right-wing shill, ably points out how reasoned moral discourse in America especially has been utterly eviscerated of common avenues of engagement largely because of "prophetic" commitments to ideological fixities that finally amount to self-blinding. But there is more to this prophetic self-designation: its effect of moral intransigence is simply contrary to the specifically Christian vocation of deferring to the Body, a vocation that asks that we "not insist on our own way" (1 Cor. 13:5), and "count others as better than ourselves" (Philippians 2;3), and in so doing transforms the very meaning of the "prophetic" stance. For the issue is not to ask TEC and the Presiding Bishop to deny her own convictions or their clear and public articulation. What is at issue - and where hope in this matter is located - is the form of such conviction for a Christian. That form is, of course, Jesus', and Paul's in his wake: it is the utterance of conviction in the face of an alternative power, and a giving over of oneself and of that conviction into that power as a means of its disarming. My colleague Philip Turner has rightly argued that this is the form that "dissent" properly takes in the Christian communion (see "Unity, Order, and Dissent: On How to Dissent Within a Communion of Churches", at www.anglicancommunioninstitute.com). Instead, however, we see TEC cower from her own stated conviction's truth, and rather mask this Christian cowardice with endless organizational and financial manipulation. TEC's leadership has subverted hope by subverting the priority of the larger Body of Christ, and denying that God's own just vindication is sufficient to ground her convictions (1 Peter 2:23). And that, finally, is a subversion of Christian love. The subversion is fundamental, and if bound, as much of the Communion believes, to error, it constitutes in itself an assault on the Church of Christ. 2. But the shepherds of TEC are not alone in certain respects. We ought to raise some related concerns with those in e.g. Gafcon who have insisted on turning their backs upon the rest of the Communion as the latter tries, with its albeit messy and imperfect modes of engagement, to heal the Communion's wounded order. "We will no longer go to meetings where TEC's leadership is present; we will no longer participate in counsel where there are no certain means of following through with our decisions. We will instead go forward with our own ordering of the Church even as we further our own convictions." Kaveny's strictures against the dangers of self-proclaimed prophethood apply in this direction too. How often have we not heard announcements of a "new Reformation", of retrieving the heroic stands of Calvin and Luther before the world? To paraphrase, with a little self-mockery, Lloyd Bentson's retort to Dan Quayle: "Martin Luther was a friend of mine; bishops, you are no Martin Luther". And even if they were, is this what we really want, now devolved to an intra-Anglican conflict, while the world goes up in flames, and the scoffers of the Gospel look on with glee? Even among "conservative" Anglicans, we are seeing Reformed and Catholic appeals to truth replaying themselves in the same impossible contradictions, as if the theologically impoverished Anglicanism of the 21st century - I characterize as broadly as possible here - could somehow avoid the pitfalls of 500 years of internecine Christian division where far greater Christian minds have failed. Is there nothing to learn from history? So, while TEC's leadership would ignore Communion counsel altogether, some of our conservative leaders tell us, not that counsel should be ignored, but rather that counsel no longer offers hope at all. But is this not a similar turning away from the power of God? Let us be clear: the seeming effort or at least deliberated effect by Canterbury to place TEC's participation in meetings like the Primates' on the same level as all other representatives is an astonishing affirmation of contradictory moral integrities. It is as if at every gathering we are back to square one in the Communion on the matter of common teaching and discipline, and the very fundamental evangelical realities of Christian Scriptural witness that have been carefully articulated over and over remain constantly up for grabs. Our conservative leaders are completely right in objecting to this kind of "conciliar" rationale, and to object vigorously and unceasingly. But they should object face to face, not from a distance in a manner that has increasingly weakened the power of their personal testimony. What is one afraid of in going to meetings and engaging those who oppose us and the Gospel as we understand it? Yes, it costs money, and it might seem we are wasting it if"¦ what? we are not listened to? if others do not keep their word? if, that is, things do not go as we want them to? Paul was willing to oppose Peter "face to face"; Paul was willing to go to Jerusalem to make his point (even though he claims he didn't need to!); Paul continued to press and engage opponents of his form of Gentile mission (as well as of many other matters dear to him) over many, many years - opposition that continued in the wake of common decisions that should have settled the matter long before. Yet what? He returned to Jerusalem, after continuing over and over to work for the support of Christians there who had little sympathy for his vision. "I am ready not only to be bound but even to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus!" (Acts 21:13). Foolish or hopeful? Jesus continued to meet the leaders of his people face to face, even on a cross, daring to say "they know not what they do". There is no other standard. Instead, our shepherds here often provide little evidence that they have a sympathetic sense of the weakness of others, and that time - far more time than their own virtues might require - is needed. And with this sense, they offer little encouragement to those taking steps, however small, in the direction of the Communion's integral healing (e.g. the Church of England leadership in Synod). And this lack of encouragement is a blow to human hope, since, many (like myself) agree with much of the substance of their witness, but yearn for greater strength in the midst of difficult locales, which they seem instead to indicate are worthless places of ministry altogether. Hope is subverted, because they say they will not go, as it were, to "Jerusalem" (ironic in terms of their named Declaration), there to meet their Herods, Pilates, Sanhedrins, and yes, false friends, disciples, and brethren. But is not this our calling as a people? How then can we hope to follow where our leaders will not go? 3. And Canterbury? Given the weakness of others, might we not find hope there? Abp. Williams did, it is reliably rumored, make a request to TEC's Presiding Bishop to voluntarily absent herself from the coming Primates' Meeting, so that space be given to the concerns of others; he has made a clear commitment to gathering in council. Does he not openly, in at least these and other ways, call upon God's work in the Holy Spirit to govern the affairs of this Communion? Absolutely! Would that others could share this call and work accordingly! But for all this, as the weeks and months and years tick by, he keeps a frosty distance from the tumult of the people: greeting litigation, contradictions, broken promises, failed meetings and procedural manipulation by factions all with silence, turning his formidably acute attention to large questions of economics and social policy, while restraining his intelligence from addressing the destructive disaffections of so many. And in this, he resembles nothing so much as David, high above an estranged populace, observing the failures of his children, indulging, ignoring, avoiding and then watching the entire kingdom ripped apart. While the Books of Samuel present this in part as his own loss, the Books of Kings show us that the loss is finally borne by the wilted faith and livelihoods of his people. The "shepherd" is good in his way, and remembered as such; but awakened too late to the disease of his family, he multiplies the burdens of those he loves. So the Archbishop plows ahead as if there are no substantive obstacles to the Covenant he first and energetically commended to us all, while we watch as bit by bit the pieces fall away. This is not the courage of conviction that the Body needs. The Standing Committee of the ACC, charged with the Covenant, is impossibly ordered: only a brief nod of the head; Primates resign and leave the Communion's councils: this is "too bad"; TEC disrespects the Communion in the most brazen and insulting of ways: this is "probably not a good idea"; the embodied acceptability of contradictory moral commitments continues to mark the highest decision-making bodies of the Church: "let's keep talking about it". Meanwhile, what is anybody to guess as to his actual desires and hopes? Perhaps this, perhaps that. Yet an actual plan and commitment from Lambeth remains vague and veiled. We are uncertain as to what is "yes" and what is "no" from the Archbishop's office. He cannot speak clearly about the Communion's needs and procedures, nor really even about the topic of division. Yes, we still need to talk about sexuality - but in fact, given what has already been said and offered, there is little to discuss any longer: the "science" is so far groundless as to genetic creationism; the psychology is muddled; the sociology indicates cultural constructivism more than anything; and the actual teaching of the Church's scriptural interpretations are unanimous. Tell us what a discussion would look like and hope to accomplish? But we are not told. This is the man who can lecture the Pope about woman's ordination to his face (an argument with which I agree, but in a context that was so extraordinary in dealing with separated brethren who are one's hosts, about something equally "debated"), even while he cannot speak candidly to his own Communion about the matters his own people are eager to see resolved! Turning to Francis Bacon again, we note how he attributes the primary cause of "troubles" within a commonwealth - dare we say, a "communion" - to "discontentments" that have been allowed to fester. How then best resolve, let alone prevent such discontentments (due mainly to perceived lacks of voice and met needs)? By facing squarely into their reality and "removing their material cause". At the very least, the Archbishop ought to present publicly the case for face to face meetings and only on this basis call the Primates together. This way there can be a clear discussion before the people of the church as to why Christ calls us to this or that response, rather than the resort to veiled strategies that have so subverted the trust of the flock. The fact is, the Archbishop has a compelling case, if he chooses to make it: he can insist that he is calling his colleagues to confront a church and her leadership in the person of TEC's Presiding Bishop that has defied the will of the Communion and in doing so has sown division in the church. He can be forthright that the gathering of Primates cannot simply be a meeting for general "indaba" where all views are shared, even if this must form an element of discernment; it will be about how to respond faithfully to an erring church whose intransigence before the larger Body has proven increasingly toxic to the health of the whole For now, however, the "causes" of "discontentment" remain persistently embedded in our councils, while "sedition" advances on all fronts. What would hope look like here? "The servant does not know what his master is doing. But I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father" (John 15:15). But we are told nothing. Is it because the Archbishop has no friends? And if so, why? Does he not trust that we can love even when we disagree and perhaps even oppose? Where is God in this? I have long since abandoned any expectation that writings like this would be heeded by those about whom they are written; that, in this case, Presiding Bishop Jefferts Schori would voluntarily stay away from the Primates Meeting; that other Primates would drop their boycotts and demonstrate ceaseless hope; that the Archbishop of Canterbury would speak clearly and forcefully to the actual obstacles before our Communion's healing and would follow through with concrete means of removing them. I write instead for a few others, who simply wonder what it all adds up to - a warning and an encouragement. A warning: ultimately, through their actions or lack of them, our leaders have asked us all to rely on them or on ourselves, and not on God. That is the hopelessness they are engendering. But in the days to come - this year and the next and the next after -- we cannot put our trust in "children of men", the "princes" of our church. And encouragement: hope for our Communion, our churches, and our souls, lies with God. And it is David himself who tells us this! A man who knew better than others on this score! A warning, then, but also an encouragement not to lose hope, if indeed it is placed where it belongs. And only thus can we do what we are called to do with respect to our shepherds and leaders: "remember" them in prayer; support them; defer even! knowing their heavy burdens (cf. Hebrews 13:7, 17; 1 Thess. 5;13). Theirs is not an easy labor; each of us would stumble as fully as they, and more so surely, if we were to take their burden (which does not grant us to the liberty to ignore the fall). Indeed, we pray. And pray, because we know that this is not their church nor is it our church, but God's. Pope John XXIII's private secretary, Mgr. Loris Capovilla, reported that the pope, every evening, after his heavy daily duties, and the endless round of challenges that often granted no clear solution, would examine himself in prayer, and would finally close by his bedside saying, "Well, I did the best I could"¦ It's your church, Lord! I'm going to bed. Good night." Of course: it is in the God of Jacob that we put our trust.