Holy Week Vows

This morning I will renew my ordination vows at Philadelphia Episcopal Cathedral.  It is also the day that the U.S. Supreme Court will take up the constitutional issue of marriage equality for same-sex couples.  That these two events should be happening on the same day seems apropos to me, even synchronous.  They test and affirm the vows I have taken respectively as a Christian and an American citizen, which are not so different.  In the first instance, I promise to live and work as a priest: to respect the authority of my bishop, to study the Bible, to administer the sacraments, to be a faithful pastor, to pattern my life according to the teachings of Jesus Christ, and to persevere in prayer.  At the heart of this vow is faithfulness to the pursuit of justice and truth.  As an American, I have assented to the values of liberty and justice for all, just as we used to say during the Pledge of Allegiance in elementary school.  It is my hope that as the Justices review the constitutionality of same-sex marriage, they remember that justice is not a relativistic concept, that separate-but-equal continues to be an untenable position.

Confirmation by Bishop Persell of Chicago.

I am also mindful today that there are other vows that matter.   The 10-year anniversary of my relationship with Mike comes next week on his birthday, and I feel deeply the various vows we have taken together.  Mike promised at both my baptism and confirmation to support my life as a Christian, as I did when he was received by Bishop Persell from the Roman Catholic Church into the Episcopal Church.  And there were the vows to love, honor, and support each other that we took at our civil union in 2011 before both the judge and the priest.  But the vows that are perhaps the most urgent, the most binding, are the vows of baptism that commit each of us to a life that sees no hierarchy, no privilege, among people.  The Baptismal Covenant in the Book of Common Prayer bids us promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves, and to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.  Holy Week serves as a reminder of these baptismal vows.  We have each of us been baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus that we might live in a new way in a community that does not categorize people into worthy and unworthy, high and low, included and excluded.  Even in a country with no established church or religion, it is good that the ideals of Church and state should overlap, that justice and equity should prevail for all people without distinction.

Francis and Justin

Habemus Papam! I, like many people, was glued to my TV to witness the election of the new Pope, Jorge Maria Cardinal Bergoglio, who has taken the regnal name, Francis.  Although a solid Anglican, I have to give the Roman Church credit for putting on an impressive and spell-binding spectacle that even we non-Roman Catholics can enjoy.  And yet the pomp of the election contrasted sharply with the new Pope's humility, simplicity, and quiet accessibility.  The early days of Francis' pontificate seem to indicate that the new Pope has a sincere commitment to the plight of the poor, will be profoundly pastoral in approach, and strip away much of the ceremonial accretions of the papal court. 

The election of Justin Welby as the 105th Archbishop of Canterbury certainly pales in comparison in terms of overall hype, but Anglicans worldwide are expressing deep emotions over the appointment of a man who will lead the third largest Christian church in the wake of the stormy era of Rowan Williams.  Welby's brief stint as a bishop, his evangelical orientation, and his opposition to same-sex marriage give many progressive Anglicans pause, while others worry that his support for the ordination of women to the episcopate will alienate traditionalists.  His impressive background in conflict resolution spells hope for a Communion full of shattered relationships, and yet his former career in the oil industry makes him suspect among some who worry about plutocratic connections.  Welby's enthronement in Canterbury Cathedral on March 21st should be an event of especial pomp and magnificence.

Arms of Rome, Constantinople,
and Canterbury. One Holy,
Catholic, and Apostolic Church.

These two men are entering a new stage in their vocations and share similar challenges.  Both Churches are looking to them with hope to repair damaged relationships, keep people of wildly divergent views together, grow the church, and restore credibility to an institution that has not kept pace with the secular world's beliefs about justice and equity.  This is a heavy burden to carry, and the likelihood is that both men will disappoint, anger, and upset many they are called to lead, however brilliantly they might exercise their respective offices.  It is important to remember that we, too, have a share in their new lives as leaders of these two Communions.  When the new Pope asked the people to give him their blessing before he imparted his to the crowds below, he was perfectly serious.

Our job is to pray for these two men as they undertake their new responsibilities, to commend them when they do well, and to challenge them when they go astray.  Anglicans should not only pray for Justin, but also for Francis, and Roman Catholics should do likewise.  It is easy to forget that we are Christians first, and Anglicans or Roman Catholics second, and that we are called to pray for each other as sisters and brothers, whatever our ecclesiastical affiliation:  Episcopalian, Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, Pentecostal, Buddhist, or Muslim.  But not only are we bidden to pray for them, we also are called to share their ministry.

Feeding the 5000.

One of the passages from last Thursday's eucharistic lections stuck with me as I considered the new ministry of these two leaders.  "I can do nothing on my own.  As I hear, I judge; and my judgment is just, because I seek not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me" (John 5:30).  Jesus does not act on his own, but with God's help, and lest we forget, with his disciples' help, too.  Even Francis and Justin Cantuar do nothing on their own, so the responsibility for the work and witness of the Church is ours, as well as theirs.  We are all accountable. "The works that the Father has given me to complete, the very works I am doing" Jesus continues, "testify on my behalf that the Father has sent me" (John 5:36).  We judge as we hear; and we try to be faithful to the work that God has given us to do.  So, amid all the pomp of investitures and enthronements, let us try to keep the work of the Church before our eyes, for that is what will legitimize our call to be the Church and to speak in God's name.  "How can you believe," Jesus challenges his detractors, "when you accept glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the one who alone is God" (John 5:44)?  The glorious pageantry of new beginnings in the Church must, in the final analysis, point to the glory of God and lead us to the work he has given us to do to feed, heal, lift up, plant, and grow.

Pulling the Church Out of the Box

It may be my imagination, but I think the Episcopal Church is a bit obsessed with labels, particularly around that concept of what used to be called "churchmanship," and this worries me.  I consider myself to be a pretty postmodern guy, so I get frustrated when I see folks in the Church pigeonhole others, especially each other.  They verbally place them in a tidy little box with a label, as if to say,  "oh, you're one of THOSE people." I don't only speak for myself, out of my own experiences of being labeled this or that, but also from my conversations with others, both lay and ordained, who have articulated similar frustrations. There seems to be this unspoken, underlying assumption that one can only be one thing at a time.  In the 21st century, this is a modernist bias of the inherited Church that needs to go ... and soon.  That is, if we want the Church to thrive. 

Let me give you a few concrete examples, so that you know I'm not just kvetching.  (1) A couple of weeks ago, I had dinner with a young priest, who told me how much he had hated seminary, because the other students mocked him for not falling in line with the seminary's textbook liberal platform.  Needless to say, I was distressed to hear that his peers had been so mean and intolerant toward him, but I was also kind of surprised, because I know him to be a pretty middle-of-the-road, socially progressive, and theologically moderate Episcopalian.  And a heck of a nice guy.  I, for one, respected him for daring to dissent and refusing to vote a straight party ticket.  (2) I also had a conversation this week with a friend, who moved to a new parish, and was chastised--albeit gently--for having a Roman cassock with a fascia, instead of a Sarum one with a belt.  The implication was, "your outfit says that you're not one of us.  Fall in line."  "Oh geez," I said, "churchmanship ideological battles.  Puh-lease."  (3) Last week, I was invited to preach at the historic Washington Memorial Chapel, and so respecting the ethos and customs of the house, exchanged my Anglo-Catholic uniform for my Sarum cassock, English surplice, tippet, and hood.  Some folks on the broader end of the Church spectrum were incredulous, even indignant, when I posted the pictures on Facebook, asking how I of all people, as an Anglo-Catholic curate, could have dressed up like this.  I am an Anglo-Catholic curate, but I'm many others things, too.  And there is not only one type of Anglo-Catholic.  I answered, "well, I asked what I should wear, and so I complied with the rector's instructions.  My mother would never forgive me if I were a bad guest in someone else's house. Besides, I looked good!" 

And you can pretty much get it to order. :)

Finally, I happened to mention to a friend and mentor recently that I found it bewildering that people should have a hard time understanding that someone could identify beyond just one "party" label.  He replied sympathetically that as an intraverted, bilingual, Charismatic Episcopalian with Anglo-Catholic affinities he understood what I meant.  "Ethan," he announced, "you're an emergent, Anglo-Catholic with Broad Church sympathies and an evangelical outlook."  I smiled, and agreed that that was a pretty accurate description.  "If I'm honest," I said, "I'm pretty syncretistic, gathering bits from all over the Christian tradition, and using what works."  "Well, of course," my friend replied matter-of-factly, "we're Anglicans!" The problem with these rigid labels," I added, "is that people tend to project stereotypes onto the people they label."  Now that the U.S. Census Bureau is finally recording the reality of LGBTQ households and multiracial identity, I'd like to think there's hope for the Church, too, in getting past old elitist and othering labels that divide us.

These labels reduce people to a soundbite, and it doesn't just happen inside the Church.  I can't tell you how many times people outside the Church have said to me, "you can't be a priest!  You have tattoos!"  Stereotypes suggest we don't need to get to know a person; we can just apply a cookie-cutter sorting method, put him or her in the right box, and move on to the next person.  I'm reminded of what Paul says in Galatians, that "there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus."   Paul is not only saying that such distinctions are no longer reasons for division, but also that we cannot just reduce the complexities of an individual to one attribute, whether it's gender, race, sexuality, nationality, churchmanship, or something else.  Part of being an inclusive church in a postmodern world that often thinks the Church is out-of-touch, irrelevant and hypocritical is accepting and embracing other human beings' complexity.  Not attempting to resolve tensions.  Not simplifying folks into labels that we understand and make us comfortable.  Not pounding square pegs into round holes.  New folks visiting our congregations aren't going to resolve their complexities to fit in and make us comfortable.  We need to stop being so intolerant of whatever spiritual flavor we don't find palatable: evangelical, emergent, Anglo-Catholic, Low, etc.  We need to just get over it. 

So, I suggest that when we light the new fire this year at the Easter Vigil, we take all those boxes we put people in and throw them on the flames.  Then, we can get to really know each other and appreciate the fullness of who we are as sisters and brothers in Christ.

St. Clement's Splendor

Now that my departure from St. Clement's is drawing nigh, people have asked me what I am most going to miss when I move back to Chicago.  So, here are just seven of the most meaningful aspects of life at St. Clement's in alphabetical order.

Asperges with Todd Grundy at my 1st mass.

Asperges me:  As either the celebrant or deacon at Solemn High Mass on Sunday morning, one of the few times I ever get to hear the choir in all its glory--given the acoustics of the building--is during the asperges ritual at the beginning of the Mass.  The three sacred ministers process toward the back of the church--the celebrant sprinkling the faithful with holy water en route--who then wait for the choir to sing the Gloria Patri, before marching back down the center aisle to the chancel.  We only wait for about a minute, but the sound during that short time is extraordinarily beautiful.  It's definitely one of my favorite parts of the Mass at St. Clement's.

Atria:  Doing my weekly Bible study with the mostly Jewish residents at the Atria retirement community next to the church has been one of the most rewarding features of my ministry at St. Clement's.  It has been a privilege to get to know the life stories, faith journeys, and personalities of my regular study companions:  Alfred, Rose, Ruth, Anna, Peaches, Ted, Pamela, Stanley, among others. They are really an interesting and loving bunch of people.

Folding Machine:  No, seriously.  The thought of having to fold hundreds of Sunday bulletins by hand makes me sick to my stomach.  If you think I'm being ridiculous, then clearly you've never been in charge of producing service bulletins, particularly when there's an eight-page leaflet to do for a major feast with insert pages.  Along with the shaking machine to get all the pages even before folding, this thing is an absolute marvel. I will miss you greatly :(

Pulling out yet another yew bush in the rain.

Garden:  The garden has been a really happy space for me.  I have worked alongside so many wonderful people to pull out yew bushes, harvest herbs, and care for the plants on sunny days and in the pouring rain.  I have witnessed its transformation from an enclosed, uninviting lot to a space where people from the neighborhood come to sit and eat their lunches, draw, or simply sit quietly.  It is the place where I have played many a game of fetch with Becket and where the children from the Montessori school cultivate herbs and vegetables and play during lunchtime. 

With Marc Coleman, talking to an attendee at Outfest 2012.

People:  I hesitate to name anyone specifically, since I don't want to leave anyone out.  All the same, I smile every time I think about the Sunday mass, when Todd Grundy finished chanting the Epistle, and I said to the rector under my breath, "Thanks be to Todd," and made us both laugh.  And the time we all pulled together to care for server, Michael Arrington, when he collapsed at the altar on the Feast of the Annunciation.  And the first time Curt Mangel and I went out to 19th and Chesnut to do Ashes-to-Go, and we quite rightly got yelled at for setting up shop stupidly in front of a Kosher restaurant.  And when Bishop Michel leaned in toward me, sweating profusely, and asked me (also sweating profusely) if I was doing alright at my ordination.  And the many evenings out about town with Anthony Nichols and Michael Smith.  And drinking beer in the freezing rain with Marc Coleman and Ron Emrich at Outfest.  And I have tons more. . .

Breakfast at Pete's.

Pete's:  Although it certainly hasn't helped my waistline, meals at Pete's Famous Pizza at the end of Appletree Street has been the site of many fun and collegial meals with altar servers, out-of-town visitors, and of course, Fr. Reid.  There has been a lot of laughter, heart-to-heart talks, and strategizing for mission at those tables.  I'm especially fond of their Greek salad, meat lover's pizza, and buffalo wings.  I'll miss waitresses Lisa, Sue, and of course Angie, who knows my breakfast order by heart. 

Priestly ordination, Aug. 4, 2012.

Vestments:  You won't be surprised to hear that I will miss the exquisite vestments that I have been privileged enough to wear during my time at St. Clement's.  I have gotten exceedingly spoiled, to be sure.  Of course, I can be a priest without any of the trappings of the Church, including fancy vestments, diamond encrusted chalices, and reliquaries.  But they sure do make the experience rich and full of mystery, and I count myself lucky to have been included among the generations of priests who have donned these vestments, which are the result of so much love, skill, and devotion.