Moral Theology: Dodo or Phoenix?
III
Where Do We Begin
A.
We are in the midst of a great shift in the cultural history of our country. Since our inception as a nation, America’s churches have been asked to provide a moral and spiritual base for a polyglot people gathered from the corners of the earth. Though no religion could be established and each person was to be allowed the free exercise of his or her religion, the Protestant churches in particular enjoyed a culture hegemony that gave them enormous social power. If one were to look over the Monday edition of the New York times that appeared a century ago, they would find printed there entire the sermons preached the day before from the pulpits of the major New York churches. One can hardly imagine such a thing happening today. Indeed, demographers tell us that within a matter of months (or at best a hand full of years) Protestants will no longer be the major religious grouping in the U.S. Along with this numerical decrease has come a decrease in social influence. This is not to say that the religious voice is unimportant. It played what might have been a decisive role in our recent election. Conservative Roman Catholics and Evangelical Protestants are struggling to maintain America as a “Christian nation,” and for many of them the battle will be won or lost in the current struggle over such moral issues as abortion and same sex marriage.
The very virulence of these culture wars indicates the tenuous nature of the social power of the churches. If the outcome of the battle did not hang in the balance, there would not such a fuss. But there is quite a fuss; and, in this battle, the clergy of the Episcopal Church have, generally speaking, placed themselves on the side of the basic cultural trend toward greater autonomy for the individual. Nevertheless, the cultural issues that so tear at the heart of our nation tear also at the heart of our church. As a result, we are being forced to ask basic questions about the nature of Christian belief and practice.
So far, our discussion of these matters has proved both acrimonious and unedifying. Things may well continue in this vein; I have no way of knowing. Nevertheless, if one is at all attuned to the complexity and seriousness of the issues before us, and if a serious debate within our church can be generated, we will have to go back to basics and ask fundamental questions about Christian belief and practice. I have suggested that, in respect of Christian Ethics, a return to basics will require us to identify the primary focus of the particular account of Christian living that is ours. In answer to this question, I suggest that there are really three foci open to us; either individual sanctification, or social renewal, or the common life of the church. Just as most of us, had we lived in the time of John Cassian, would have identified our focus as individual sanctification, so most of us now living in the age of Kant and Marx probably would identify our focus as social renewal. Because we are Episcopalians, most of us will feel most uncomfortable with the third option, the common life of the church. It suggests a gap between the life of the church and the environing culture that makes us very uncomfortable.
Nevertheless, no matter what our feelings may be, and no matter how firm our convictions, the very contentiousness of our times points to the need to question even our deepest convictions. We need to be up front about the central focus we give in our account of Christian living lest we fall into the pit of self-deception and/or self-satisfaction. If we wish to avoid these pitfalls, we must be clear about our focus. I think also that, if we are to make the claim that our focus is indeed Christian, we are required, once we have identified our central focus, to ask if in fact our views are actually in accord with the witness of Holy Scripture. I know that many may not wish to justify their view in this way. What constitutes an adequate justification for the particular focus one gives to their account of the Christian life is in fact rightly a matter for debate. Nevertheless, I am taking the position that at a minimum, if one is testing the adequacy of one’s view on these matters, it is necessary to ask if the focus I give to Christian ethics in fact accords with the witness of the Bible. I know that the mantra repeated within our church is that we also rely on tradition, reason, and experience; and not doubt we do. But never until recently has it been claimed that reason, tradition, and most doubtful of all, experience can operate independent of scripture’s witness and, perhaps, in contradistinction to it. So I will assume that to establish rightly the focus of Christian Ethics, one must show that the focus one defends accords with the witness of Holy Scripture.
B.
To carry out this task adequately requires a study of Holy Scripture in its entirety—a tasks that lies beyond what is possible here. So, I have chosen what I believe to be an apt example, the Epistle to the Ephesians, to suggest what I believe the witness of the Bible to be. If there were time I could show, I think with little difficulty, that the focus given to Christian Ethics in this letter accords with that in to be found in the major and minor prophets; and in Matthew, Luke, and John, and in the Pauline Epistles. What then properly is the focus of Christian Ethics as displayed in this fundamental depiction of the nature and calling of the church? Uncomfortable as it may make us feel, the central focus of this account of Christian living is the common life of the church.
Let me begin with the writer’s understanding of the goal, purpose, or telos of the church. As the author of Ephesians sees things, the church is to be the “place” in which God’s purpose for the entire creation begins to come to fruition. In 1:9-11 he speaks with remarkable boldness. He says that God “has made known to us (i.e., the church) the secret (mysterion) of his will in accordance with his purpose which he set forth in him (Christ) for administering (eis oikonomian) the fullness of the ages so as to sum up (anakephalaioosasthai) all things (ta panta) in Christ, things in the heavens and things on the earth.” One may paraphrase the author’s thought in this way. In Christ, God has made known his eternal purpose for the creation. It is to unify all things (the earth, humankind, and the powers that dwell in the heavens) in Christ, and so bring them (once more) under the rule of God. This purpose stands “before” the foundation of the worlds, but, until the present, it has remained a secret. However, at the beginning of the last age, the one issued in by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, it has been made known. Further, God has revealed not only that the last age is issued in by Christ, but also that it is to be “administered” by Christ in a way that makes the summing up, the unity, he purposes visible.
Given the extraordinary expanse of this purpose, the assertion found in 1:22-23 is, to say the least, arresting. The arena in which God’s plan for the world begins to unfold is small rather than large. It is in the ekklesia tou theou, God’s assembly, rather than in an empire, that Christ’s administration of God’s purpose first becomes visible. The primary expression of that administration is depicted in 2:11-22 wherein the most basic act of Christ’s administration is said to be reconciliation between Jew and Gentile. These two solidarities (God’s people and the peoples of the earth) comprise the two classes between which all humankind is divided. Their unity in Christ and within the ekklesia is the first step toward the unification of all things both on earth as in heaven.
To emphasize the extent and character of the unity Christ’s sacrificial death makes possible, the writer employs a concatenation of terms that almost overwhelm the reader. The Gentiles are no longer, in respect to God’s assembly, at best foreigners (zenoi) and guest workers (paroikoi). Rather, Gentile believers are now united with Jewish believers in such a way that they can be called “fellow citizens” (sumpolitai) with them and members of the same “household” (oikeioi), namely, that of the one God who is now Father to them both (2:19). This household can also be termed a building (oikoidomee) the foundation of which is the apostles and prophets. The capstone (akrogooniaios) of the structure is Christ. The Gentiles have, as it were, been built into this structure and (with their inclusion) the structure has been joined together in such a way that it grows in Christ so as to become God’s holy temple (naos hagios), the place God lives on earth through the presence of his Spirit. (2:20-22). The same Spirit now dwells in Jews and Gentiles alike, and serves both as a mark of their ownership by God, and as a guarantee that they are jointly God’s adopted children and so also heirs of the one God who is Father of both (1:13).
One could write a book opening out the full meaning of this concatenation of terms (fellow citizens, household members, building, temple), but mere repetition of the list is enough to highlight the extent and significance of the unity it is God’s eternal purpose to bring about. One can fairly say that God’s chief business is reconciliation and unity, that Christ died to bring about reconciliation and unity, that he has been raised to administer that purpose and that, according to this writer, the church finds its raison d’etre in being the place where that purpose becomes available to the creation as a whole. If indeed the unity of all things in Christ Jesus is God’s chief business, and if indeed the calling of the church is to be the place where that purpose becomes starkly visible, then one must at least wonder about the probity of accepting, perhaps even celebrating, division.
The probity of all strategies that simply accept or even celebrate division becomes even more questionable if one looks at the basis or foundation of the unity God intends. The foundation of that unity lies first in a sovereign choice made by God the Father “before” the foundation of the world. The choice was to adopt those who will become members of God’s assembly as sons and daughters and so also heirs of all that is God’s. As obedient children of a loving Father, those adopted are destined to live a holy and blameless life in the presence of their Father. The holy and blameless life for which the saints have been marked out before hand (proorizoo) is a life of love (1:4-6, 11-12), and what might be called the final purpose of this life is to evoke the praise of God’s grace, presumably on the part of the entire creation (1:9-10; 3:1-11). It seems fair to say in summary that God’s eternal purpose is for the entire creation to find its unity in the praise of God’s glory, and that election of the members of the church is the point at which the counsel (hee boulee) of God’s will for creation begins to take effect (1:11-12).
The ultimate basis of the unity of all things in Christ is the eternal purpose (hee prothesis) of God the Father who accomplishes all things “according to the counsel of his will.” The unity of all things has a penultimate basis, however, in Christ’s sacrificial death. It is the death of Christ that actually procures for believers both redemption from their bondage to the powers that oppose God’s rule and the forgiveness of their trespasses (ta paratooma) and sins (hai hamartiai) (1:7; 2:1,13). The saving efficacy of Christ’s death is made manifest in the power by which he is raised from the dead and seated at the right hand of God (1:20). Indeed, in ascending to the right hand of God, Christ appears as a conqueror that, in triumphal procession, distributes the fruits of his conquest to his loyal followers (4:8).
Mention of the gifts distributed by the triumphant Christ suggests a third basis for the unity God purposes. The quotation from Ps. 68 that appears in 4:8 indicates that the saints now in some way share in Christ’s rule over all things, and that they are being showered with gifts that equip them to participate in Christ’s administration of God’s unifying purposes. If Christ has died and been raised and seated in the heavenly places, so also have the saints (2:4-10). The writer means this statement in a very literal sense. Because the saints have received the Holy Spirit, they are connected in an immediate way to the ascended and regnant Christ. They literally live “in Christ.” The Spirit actually links them with Christ as he sits upon his throne in the heavenly place. As such, they now enjoy an initial distribution of their share in Christ’s inheritance—one that serves as a guarantee (arraboon) of a full share that will come when God’s purpose is fully accomplished (1:14).
The Spirit also strengthens and informs believers by means of this attachment to Christ. Thus, the writer prays for the members of Christ’s body to be strengthened by the Spirit in the “inner man,” (eis ton esoo anthroopon) (3:16). The “inner man,” as it appears here, is best understood as the base of operation at the center of a person’s being. There the Spirit works to strengthen believers by the gift of power. Such power is associated in 3:18-19 with the ability to comprehend the full dimensions of God’s purposes and love.
Through the agency of the Holy Spirit the saints in a very literal sense live “in Christ” and have access to gifts that strengthen them and enlighten their hearts concerning the purposes of God. The purpose of these gifts is for all the saints to grow from a childish to a mature state, and so reach a fullness of stature that matches that of Christ (4:13-16). This state of maturity is the destiny of the saints who “in Christ” are to become “the one new man” (hena kainon anthropon) mentioned in 2:15 or the “fully mature man” (andra teleion) referred to in 4:13. The writer clearly has in mind a new adam or humankind in which Jew and Greek are united with one Father, with one another and with the entire creation through the work of the Son and the Spirit.
It seems a fair summary to say that the basis of the unity God purposes, as presented in Ephesians is the economy or outworking of God the Father whose purpose is the unity of all things in Christ; of God the Son who establishes the conditions for this unity through his reconciling death; and of God the Holy Spirit who incorporates believers into Christ and so makes available to them the benefits of his death, resurrection and ascension. Though it is anachronistic to say so, it is nonetheless reasonable to say that the author of Ephesians bases his focus on unity in the life of the Holy Trinity. The entire economy of God is placed at the foundation of what he presents as the telos of God’s people and the providential purposes of God himself.
Before such a vision what are we to say and what are we to do? At a minimum, it would seem to me that our convictions (or lack thereof) must be placed before and within God’s sovereign purpose for the church. Agreement to live with our mess or to hive off in favor of a purer, less compromised church, on the surface at least, seem strategies for coping with division that do not fit easily with the counsel of God’s will or with the purpose for which the saints are marked out before hand. They do not seem to stand on the base of God the Father’s eternal purpose, or the reconciling death of his Son or the guarantee of inheritance on the part of the Holy Spirit. Both the purpose and the basis of the life of the church appear to me at least to argue against our present way of living together in the church. They seem to suggest that condescending tolerance, arrogant assertion, schismatic departure, and passive endurance are not Godly ways of living together in Christ.
In short, both the telos and the foundation of our life together “in Christ” suggest that we need something more than one or another strategy for coping with division. All strategies will certainly fail apart from confidence in God’s purpose and in God’s ability to achieve those purposes even through us—men and women who seem to have lost sight of those “good works (i.e., works of unity) that God has prepared beforehand for us to walk in” (2:10). What the telos and basis of the life of the church suggest we seek is the miracle of reconciliation rather than coping strategies for compromise or self assigned acts of prophetic cleansing. What the telos and basis of Christian Ethics suggests is that we pray in a very humble way for a miracle to occur within our common life.
If indeed God’s purposes for the church call for us to pray for miracles rather than to make adjustments, then it is appropriate to ask about the character of a church in which miracles of grace are a matter of course rather wonders that rarely if ever appear. According to the writer of Ephesians the character of such a church appears as it struggles to live a life “worthy of the calling to which you (the church) have been called” (4:1). The life to which we have been called is one of unity. A life worthy of unity is displayed in conflict with one that is not worthy of such a calling. In short, a worthy life (that is the Christian life) is one that, through struggle, overcomes division. Division, according to this writer stems from two sources. The first he calls a “former manner of life,” and it finds expression both in darkened understanding and in forms of life that are driven by desires of both body and mind (2:3; 4:17-19, 22). The second stems from a lack of maturity “in Christ” and expresses itself through attraction to what we might call “trendy teaching” (what the letter calls every wind of doctrine) presented by cunning teachers who promote ideas that do not stem from the prophets and apostles. Both of these causes of division stem from the continuing influence of spiritual forces that Christ has defeated; but which nonetheless fight on, even within the common life of the church.
Without prejudging the issues, theological and moral, that surround our battle over sexual ethics, I think it fair to say that within ECUSA trendy teaching abounds and that people who are immature in the faith are easily misled by teachers whose account of the faith does not easily square with the teaching of the prophets and apostles. What deserves more attention is the author’s description of the “former manner of life” that is to be put off. Once described, one cannot escape the conclusion that the way in which we are addressing our divisions is more often than not a graphic expression of that way of life. In short, in our struggles we are contending with the forces of division with weapons honed by those very forces. Or, to borrow a phrase from Stanley Hauerwas and use it out of context, we are fighting the disease with massive injections of the sickness.
The former manner of life that believers are to put off receives a thick description in the letter. It has its roots in hardness of heart and darkened understanding (4:18), but expresses itself in a definable range of uncontrolled cravings, negative emotional responses, and divisive practices (4:17-24). For our purposes, it is important to note that the negative emotional responses include “bitterness,” “rage,” “anger,” and “malice” (4:31). The divisive practices include “silly talk,” “lying,” “slander,” and what the RSV calls “clamor” (4:25, 32). The last, “clamor,” renders the Greek word kraugee—a word that is better translated “contentious shouting that will brook no opposition.”
One could spend some time illustrating the way in which these emotional responses and divisive practices continue to infect the life of the church. It is enough on this occasion, however, to observe that in the majority of cases these negative emotional responses and divisive practices define the social space in which the big moral issues of our time are discussed, and that their presence within the church is, if anything, more pronounced than within the secular sphere. For the writer of Ephesians, an observation of this sort, if accurate, can mean but one thing; namely, that the common life of the church has fallen under the control of what he calls, among other things, “the world rulers of this present darkness” (6:12) rather than under the control of the Holy Spirit whose tell tail signs are grace and peace.
Against this form of life, the saints are urged to adopt or “put on” another—one that promotes unity and peace rather than conflict and division. This form of life (one worthy of the calling of the saints) also receives a thick description, and for our purposes it is important to note that it provides the context in which the truth can be spoken in love. If you will, this form of life provides a range of positive emotional responses and unity producing practices that allow for the members of God’s assembly to live together in love as they mature in their understanding of God’s purposes and in their manner of life. They are listed as “humility of mind,” “gentleness,” “patience,” “forbearance,” “kindness,” “compassion,” and “forgiveness” and “truthfulness” (4:1-2, 32). Within the context of this sort of emotional field and within the circle of these practices, the members of the assembly are urged “to be diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” and they are reminded that there is one body, and one Spirit, …one hope…one Lord, one faith, one baptism one God and Father of us all…”(4:3-6a). It is also within this context that the saints are admonished as they struggle to maintain the teaching the apostles and prophets to speak the truth in love so that all may grow up in Christ in such a way that the entire body of the church is built up in love (4:15-16).
At this point several observations are in order. One is that paradosis, the handing on of the faith, never occurs apart from conflict, and so in fact is a moral issue. Another is that, prior to the return of Christ, the unity of the church is not a steady state in which peace reigns without interruption. Rather, during Christ’s administration of the last age, unity comes to be in the midst of conflict, and is seen not in a steady state but by the presence, in the face of negative emotional response and divisive practice, of humility of mind, gentleness, patience, forbearance, kindness, compassion, forgiveness, truthful speech, and diligence to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. Yet another observation is that, by this account, unity and truth are not competing goods that can be weighed one against another. Rather they are like Siamese twins that can be separated one from another only by killing both.
Now my point is this. The Eastern Church has always insisted that The Great Schism occurred not because of disagreement over the doctrine of the Trinity, but because of a lack of charity that made it impossible to search out the truth of this the central Christian mystery and come to agreement about its adequate expression. It is clear that I believe the same thing applies in respect to our little battle over sex. It may seem that, in respect to this dispute, coexistence or separation comprise are our only real options. In the present climate, I believe that they are our only real options, but I also believe that neither option can be called “Godly.” God asks of us not compromise or division but a life worthy of our calling and diligence in maintaining “the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” He asks us to deploy against the forces that divide us a range of what might be called “graces” that create conditions in which the Holy Spirit works the miracle of unity “in Christ.”
III
This is the vision that is opened to us by a close reading of this remarkable letter. It is a vision that holds out to us the promise of a miracle that lies beyond our powers—the reconciliation of those who differ on a matter less serious than that which separated Jew and Gentile or Eastern and Western church, but which nonetheless stymies us and tempts us to solutions that run contrary to the eternal purposes of God. It suggests to us as well that the goal, basis, and character of Christian ethics as presented in this seminal letter are the ones least likely to be present among Episcopalians. I have no desire to defend John Howard Yoder’s particular presentation of this focus. I believe it has serious flaws; but he is, nonetheless, closer to being right than most of us in the “main line” churches are.
Having presented what I believe to be the proper focus of Christian Ethics, I beg your patience while I sketch what I believe it implies for the way in which we ought to form our common life. If, indeed, unity rooted in love and expressed in common belief and practice comes to be always in the midst of conflict, what we need is space, what might be called “the grace of time,” to struggle together so as to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. How, concretely, might we help create a space in time—a space in which time becomes for us grace that allows time for both truth and love to prevail? Though the creation of such a space seems now all but out of reach, in fidelity to Christ and the witness of the Holy Scriptures, one still must pose the question? Here are some of the things suggested in respect to the creation of a space in which grace is to be found if an ecclesial focus is given to Christian moral reflection.
The eternal purpose of God calls for God’s assembly to show “diligence in maintaining the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” Next to love for one another, diligence in maintaining unity seems the chief requirement of a worthy life. If this is so, then the reformer’s eagerness to maintain the truth must be bracketed by both love for one another and eagerness for unity. In like manner, willingness to settle for some form of coexistence can at best be a temporary strategy—one designed to allow space for the graces to play and the Holy Spirit to create “one body,” “one hope,” and so a people who follow “one Lord,” hold “one faith,” share “one baptism,” and worship “one God” who is Father of all. Sad to say, the recent “covenant” by our bishops, despite protestations to the contrary, manifests both a paucity of diligence to maintain unity and a ready willingness to make do, at least temporarily, with a very shaky form of coexistence. At best, it can be viewed as a compromise that “buys time.” But the time bought is short; and, at the moment, it is completely unclear for what purpose the bought time exists.
Be that as it may, the real first step to be taken by those who “forebear one another in love” and show “diligence in maintaining the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” is to deploy those graces which help create a space in which the Holy Spirit can work miracles. I have listed above the graces mentioned by the author of Ephesians. None of them can be ignored, but there are two that I would like to single out as necessary if truthful speech is indeed to be uttered in love. The first is “humility of mind” (tapeinophrosunee). The form of humility spoken of here is one that is open to instruction. Humility of mind is, to be sure, first an inner disposition to listen to others. However, this inner disposition carries with it an intellectual task that goes beyond admission that one might be wrong. It requires one to ask how one might indeed determine the truth or error of ones view or way of life. Such a determination requires that one ask in the midst of any given dispute, what argument or arguments might show me in fact to be wrong. If the truthful answer is (as in most cases it now seems to be) “nothing could possibly convince me that I am wrong” then I would suggest that one both lacks humility of mind and still lives with what the writer of Ephesians calls a “darkened understanding” (4:18). Indeed, I have become convinced that our inability to have anything like a serious moral argument about the issues that divide us is as clear an indication as is possible that our church as a whole now operates with a “darkened understanding.” Nevertheless, moving on, the next grace that must be mentioned is “compassion” (eusplagxnos). This grace does not require that we see the world just as another sees it, and it does not give us permission to insist that others see the world just as we do. It does, however, require that we learn to stand in another’s shoes and experience the world as they experience it. It is only from such a stance that one can speak truthfully in love. Sadly, once more, our meetings are distinguished not by compassion but by malice and even more by kraugee, the assertion of opinion in ways that brooks no opposition. In such exchanges, all compassion is blotted out and one’s opponent is turned into yet another example of what one wishes to simply be done with. One could go on, of course, to speak of gentleness, patience, forbearance, kindness and forgiveness, but the presence of “humility of mind” and “compassion” alone would change the character of the space in which we now struggle, and create the possibility of something that now lies beyond our grasp, namely, unity rooted in love and expressed in common belief and practice. It is sadly the case, that the absence of these graces signal once more “darkened understanding,” and perhaps worse a deliberate blinding on the part of God.
If we could find the spiritual resources to deploy the graces mentioned by Ephesians, we would create a different sort of social space in which to address our divisions, and this space would provide us time to grow up in the Lord. Sadly, I now believe these resources have been taken from us, but should we find them, a second step would be necessary, namely, to create forms of debate that do more than give expression to our beliefs and feelings. The forms we are to seek must serve as well to reveal the truth. Eagerness to maintain unity rooted in love and expressed in common belief and practice requires more than our present practice of “dialogue.” For us “dialogue” implies only the sharing of experience with the purpose of obtaining the sympathy of those with whom we disagree and, we hope, a change in their point of view. The unity for which we are to be diligent demands accountability to rigorous forms of argument that rightly employ the sources of Christian knowledge. If you want an example of what I mean look at any article of the Summa. In each you will see a rigorous reference to scripture, tradition and reason—one that does not seek to play one off against the other but to demonstrate the unity of their witness. Because of the fact that we have so few agreements about the status of these sources of Christian knowledge, this requirement alone (rigorous rules of theological debate) will require of us an enormous theological work. This work at the moment is yet another example of a condition that lies beyond our reach because of the poisoned nature of the social space in which we carry on our “dialogues.” If, however, those within our church who decide to walk with the rest of the Anglican Communion were to shape a social space in which are to be found the graces Ephesians lists, space would be created as well for genuine theological debate—debate designed to help us, in the words of this letter, “thoroughly comprehend” (sunieemi) the will of Lord” (5:17). If indeed, there is a “walking apart,” my hope is that those who remain in the Anglican Communion display no arrogance. We, even those who claim to be orthodox, are in fact lacking in these graces; and unless we beg for them we may find that, even if it is not we who “walk apart,” we have entered a state that is far worse than the one just past.
I come now to my final three suggestions. Appropriately enough, these are the most controversial. The creation of the sort of social space in which we can struggle “to comprehend thoroughly the will of the Lord” requires forms of self-restraint on the part of the combatants in this contest, and the judicious exercise of authority for the purpose of maintaining good order on the part of our Bishops. Much needs to be said both about self-restraint and good order, but time will not on this occasion allow for me to say all that needs to be said. Nevertheless, even if there were world enough and time at this meeting to have this vital discussion, it must be admitted that, at the moment, neither self-restraint nor judicious exercise of authority is possible within the noxious social space we presently inhabit. Nevertheless, unless self-restraint and judicious exercise of authority become possibilities, even those of us who remain fully within the Anglican Communion, will have no hope of creating an order within which to search out God’s will. If we, however, can create a space in which the graces define our relations, then it will prove possible to restrain ourselves as we press our causes and in so doing show both patience with and love for our opponents. If we indeed create a different sort of social space, it will also be possible for our Bishops to insist upon the good order of the church without appearing to be the enemy of one party or another. In short, unless we can, even in our strained and broken circumstances, constitute a polity that is based in patience and restraint and in which authority is exercised with peaceful order in view, we will remain as we are. That is, we will find ourselves yet again in circumstances where each party to a debate presses their case as relentlessly as possible because it appears to them that if they do not do so they will lose everything. Sadly, this is exactly the position in which we now find ourselves and, no matter how the terrible church struggle in which we find ourselves turns out, that situation will not change unless we do.
One must ask also how those who fail to establish their point of view ought to react if things continue as they are. I ask this question as one who in the present debate is on the losing side. Within the political structures of our church people of my stripe are on the whole in the minority. What does one do? Does one leave or simply go to ground and wait for retirement? I contend that neither course of action is what God requires. The Godly course is marked out by Jeremiah and, if I dare say so, by Christ himself. In their time the defection of Israel was far more severe than the doctrinal and moral deviations we now encounter. Despite the idolatry and disobedience of their time, it never occurred to either of them to start another Israel. It did occur to them, however, to continue to make their witness and accept the suffering that witness brought with it. In their view, the future of Israel did not lie within their hands. It rather belonged to God. Their call was to faithful witness within a disobedient people, and their belief was that God would use that witness in his own way and in his own time to establish his will and to achieve his purposes. I have become convinced that the call God now gives is to follow this way, the way of faithful witness and patient suffering and in doing so hand the future of the church over to God in whose hands it properly belongs. In short, obedient suffering lies at the heart of any ethic whose focus is the common life of the church.
My final point is this. I make it very briefly, because in the light of all that has gone before it requires little defense. If we, not matter what our future may hold, were to carry on what is left of our common life within these moral confines, we would in fact place our lives behind the message of reconciliation, love, unity, peace, and justice we now mouth. The message with which we have been entrusted, carries little power because our life together bears so little resemblance to the unity of all things in Christ that is God’s purpose and the very heart of our calling. In short, the reconstitution of an ecclesial focus for Christian Ethics is the sine qua non for any effective mission or ministry within our time and place.
