De Nile is More den a River in Egypt

"The Episcopal Church Isn't Dying" proclaims a headline in the Weekly News of the Diocese circulated yesterday. It highlighted an article by the Rev. Lauren Stanley in which she claimed, "The majority of Episcopalians in the United States voted to stay in the Episcopal Church today." They did so by going to church, taking Communion, praying, and so forth, she explained.

This wishful thinking totally blocks out the despair and frustration of so many in the pews who feel like captains committed to going down with their ship, refugees with no other alternatives, victims of institutional theft ("how did all this happen?") or simply wizened seen-it-alls ("what those idiots are doing won't affect my parish.") They may be staying, but it is not with joy or enthusiasm, certainly not a proud and proactive "way to go!" or a vote of confidence.

Stanley continues in her article that "bad news still sells," so that is why we read about so many congregations pulling out of the Episcopal Church. As a matter of fact, I don't think bad news sells to church people at all. Many talk about taking periodic vacations from various websites, just needing to forget for a while how bad things are, but always returning to them because they know they will not get the straight story from their Diocesan "communicators." I think the average Episcopalian is weary of the mess that innovators have wrought upon the church and really yearn to "sing a new song." Yet, over and over the same bullying emanates from 815, the same exclusion of theological conservatives from normative leadership roles, the same secular agenda is jammed down their throats instead of the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the same badly skewed priorities.

Imagine the newsletter of a hospice proclaiming, "The majority of our patients didn't die yesterday!" Patients do well to cling to hope and pray for a miraculous healing, but most pastoral counselors would agree that patients also do well to accept current reality for what it is. Likewise, the faithful remnant within the Episcopal Church prays for a miracle (nothing is impossible for God) yet fully realizes how unlikely the Episcopal Church is to heed the signs. Is that fiddle music I hear?

A Tale of Two Seminaries

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--for two very different mid-western Episcopal Seminaries. One is just over three hundred miles away from Minneapolis in a rural setting; the other is just over four hundred miles away in a lovely urban setting. One just graduated one of its larger classes ever and is expanding its programs; the other is shutting its doors to new students and entering a period of discernment to figure out a way to reinvent itself amidst dwindling student enrollments and dwindling resources.

So--which seminaries are we talking about? The first, Nashotah House, is located in rural Wisconsin. The second, Seabury-Western, is located on a lovely urban campus in Illinois. Which seminary does Minnesota's bishop forbid his seminarians to attend? Which seminary does he serve as a member of the Board of Trustees? Which seminary's dean came to address the Diocesan Clergy Conference a couple of years ago? You are correct if you guessed that Bishop Jelinek shuns Nashotah House, the focal point for the Anglo-Catholic heritage of the Episcopal Church, and lauds Seabury-Western, a seminary which has embraced the Episcopal Church's recent innovations regarding Biblical interpretation and sexual norms.

The Minnesota Diocese's total neglect of a significant branch of the Episcopal Church might be understandable if the Diocese did not make the patently false claim that the Episcopal Church here is inclusive, welcoming all and embracing all. If current trends within our Diocese, the national church, and its more liberal seminaries continue, the day may come when Nashotah grads will finally be welcomed--to rebuild the church over the rubble and ashes that its shunners created.

Speaking the Truth--in Bravery

If you watch one video clip this coming month, let it be this one:

http://switch3.castup.net/cunet/gm.asp?ai=214&ar=1050wmv&ak=nul

The woman featured is Wafa Sultan, a Syrian-born psychiatrist who now lives in Los Angeles. Her mission is to speak out in Arabic so that her brother and sister Muslims will come to their senses and realize that the "clash we are witnessing around the world is ... a clash between a mentality that belongs to the Middle Ages and another that belongs to the 21st century...a clash between barbarity and rationality ..a clash between those who treat women like beasts and those who treat them like human beings."

At one point in the video, a nervous-looking cleric says that since Sultan is a heretic, there is no point in rebuking her. Too bad the ayatollahs in Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Iraq do not give up so easily; there would be many fewer corpses and beaten bodies. While Christians are "those who incur Allah's wrath," here is one woman who will definitely incur terrorists' wrath. May her mission succeed; may she remain safe.

Hattip to Mary Ann

A Mid-Lent Refresher

What do you get if you mix exotic foods adventurer Anthony Jourdain with an earnest convent postulant? One possible outcome is A. J. Jacobs. This Esquire editor took it upon himself to explore the world of the Bible in a sort of reality-show-style reenactment of Biblical living, heavy on the Old Testament. For the space of one year, Jacobs followed as many Biblical precepts as he could. The result was The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible.

It would be a mistake to write the book off as pure stunt. While he pokes fun at some of the more outlandish rules enjoined in the Bible, he equally pokes fun at himself as someone at once yearning for faith, yet hopelessly unable to make the proverbial leap. Still, even in the earliest chapters, one senses an authentic search and genuine progress. I recommend the book to anyone seeking to begin to learn about the Old Testament, and have a lot of fun while doing so. Readers may be surprised to find themselves wrestling with such questions as why God wants us to praise Him, what is the goal of prayer, and how do we lose that holiness-killer: focusing on ourselves.

Dhimmi and Dimmer

After 18 years' worth of teaching at Acton, West London's King Fahad Academy, Colin Cook was fired after complaining about some of the school's text books, which he says describe Christians as pigs, and Jews as monkeys.

A hearing about Cook's dismissal continued Friday before Britain's Jobs Tribunal. The Academy is denying Cook's allegations about the books, but shredded over 2,000 textbooks, so Cook's case became a little harder to prove.

Perhaps, in the spirit of cultural accommodation encouraged by Archbishop Williams,we should look on the bright side, that it was the books and not Cook himself that were shredded. I think remaining teachers at the Academy might do well to worry if the school purchases a wood chipper like the ones used by Saddam Hussein's execution squads.

Now just how far would Mr. Cook's case alleging employment discrimination proceed under sharia law? Probably about as far as a woman without an industrial-sized hijab could get down the streets of Iran these days.

Happy Birthday, George

When the regiment chaplain was himself too badly wounded to provide funeral services for an officer, General Washington took out the Anglican Book of Common Prayer from his pocket and led the prayers himself. He was a Vestryman at Truro Parish, and was heavily involved in the life of the church, even taking upon himself the weekly inspecting of church construction at one point. Washington was convinced that Divine intervention was the reason for the success of the American Revolution, particularly in difficult situations such as protecting soldiers after Benedict Arnold's treachery.

Washington did not stop with his personal daily devotions in seeking to keep God's favor; he did much to enlist the supplications of the entire American people. He successfully pressured the Continental Congress to provide money for regimental chaplains. He required his officers to attend Sunday services as an example to the lower ranks. He set Friday to be a day of fasting and prayer. He declared the first national day of Thanksgiving.

On this, Washington's true birthday, it's good to keep in mind how differently our chief Founding Father interpreted the appropriate relationship between government and religion than our secularly-minded litigants today. For Washington, there was to be no one established National Church, but piety, prayer, and all the fruits of Christian living were everywhere to be promoted.

Odd Cat out No More

Two dogs and two cats call our house "home" (two kids and two adults do, as well, but that is beside the point of today's story). A couple of days ago, I was tooling away at my computer when I heard the ominous growl of a cat sidling up for an attack just outside my window. I scanned the room: two dogs, one cat inside; that meant one cat was outside, probably about to engage in a chaos of flying fur and claw. Running to the door to get a better view, I could see through the side window that a HUGE feral cat had cornered my Roscoe on our porch.

I opened the door to break up the fight, but before I could step out, Mikey the dog bolted past my feet and chased the feral cat out of sight, far down the street. He trotted back, wagging his tail, and walked past Roscoe into the house. Roscoe quickly followed him inside.

In the last few days, Roscoe has become a different sort of cat. Formerly the thug of the household, he now curls up to our other cat, Boo, and has taken to holding her and washing her, something that never happened before in all the four years that we have owned the cats. He also seems to have dropped the habit of stretching across doorways and gloating as dogs, clearly remembering past encounters with Roscoe's claws, refused to pass by without human intervention.

Now, I suppose that this change in Roscoe's behavior after being rescued by Mikey could be pure coincidence. Even so, it is a striking example of interspecies cooperation. Mikey bridged the species gap, clearly defending Roscoe as one of his own pack. Roscoe, formerly odd cat out by his own choice, now is one of the gang. Can we humans learn something from this?

Ya Think?

"It seems the word "Conservative" as in "Conservative Priest" really
means angry. This blog is pretty much focused on "right religion". It
offers few solutions. It doesn't seem like a place to collaborate in
the quest to move forward. I won't be reading it any more. I hope we can do better."

This portion of a direct e-mail I received this week makes full use of the standard liberal lexicon. For anyone new to the language, I will summarize the new meanings of words used above:

conservative--angry

right religion--wrong religion

angry--descriptive of any person who holds any view differing from my own

offers few solutions--doesn't follow the liberal agenda

collaborate--come around to doing it my way, the right way

move forward--ignore opposing viewpoints

do better--adopt my ideas more closely.

Note that the reader states that he will not be reading the blogsite anymore. Actually, that is pretty much of an overstatement, because it is quite apparent from his letter that he has yet to read much beyond the title banner. You see, liberals already have the complete truth, so they have no need to read anything that might possibly suggest another way of seeing the world.

Thanks S___ (name withheld to protect the close-minded). I reiterate my guarantee to read your views and take them seriously. Wouldn't you guess that the first step towards true collaboration (standard Webster definition) must involve being at least vaguely familiar with the ideas of those with whom you claim you wish to work?

Benten Retreats

Folks in Minnesota have the rare opportunity to attend no less than three retreats this year lead by a convicted child abuser and registered sex offender. House of Prayer Director Ward Bauman is once again importing his brother Lynn Bauman all the way from Texas to lead the retreats February 21-24, and then twice more in the summer of 2008.

SNAP (the Survivors' Network of those Abused by Priests) has registered their concerns about these retreats with the Diocese of Minnesota, but the Diocese has "no plans to change the faculty for the retreats." An official statement from the Diocese claims that Mr. Bauman's service as a retreat leader in the past was "open and forthright," yet retreatants heard nothing of the former Rev. Bauman's criminal history until it was disclosed by SNAP to the newspapers.

Of all the topics that could be covered at spiritual retreats, by all the thousands of qualified retreat leaders available, why this nepotistic decision to repeatedly hire a convicted child abuser is permitted, is difficult to fathom. Clearly, other interests besides promoting wholesome spiritual growth are at work. I believe the term that C.S. Lewis would use to describe this decision is "bent."

Lent Below Zero

"Lent" may mean "spring," but it is anything but that here in the frigid heartland. Temperatures plummeted to 25 degrees-below-zero where I preached last Sunday, and that wasn't even counting the wind-chill factor. This is, by far, the coldest winter the Jeffreys have experienced since moving to Minnesota several years ago from the sunny South.

To make matters worse, Easter, like Lent, will come extraordinarily early this year. It likely will involve shoveling snow rather than hiding Easter eggs, and laying out turtle necks, heavy sweaters and boots for children, rather than flowery dresses and pastel sport shirts. There won't be any bright crocuses or tulips to pick for the "Flowering of the Cross" ritual. It is hard to feel Paschal joy when the thermometer is stuck below freezing, despite our best spiritual inclinations.

I happened to recall the other day reading about how Russian Christians survived the abysmal Gulags they were sent to during the Soviet era. Instead of fighting for every last crumb of the meager rations they were given, they would actually fast, just as they had done before their imprisonment. Rather than grab every bit of rest their brutal schedules would allow, they made a point to help the weakest among them. In this way, they took charge of their situation, setting their own limits, even if the self-imposed limits made harsher demands than those of their guards. Psychologically, it made the prisoners masters of their own fate again, and gave them a leg up in surviving.

Maybe we can take a cue from these latter-day Russian saints in how to be able to FEEL Paschal joy, despite weather that seems more appropriate for Christmas than Lent and Easter. Outdo the meteorological misery with some self-imposed austerity during Lent. Then, when that white and shivery-cold Easter morning arrives, the joy of ENDING the self-imposed Lenten discipline ALONE will make the creature in you shout a metaphorical "Alleluia!"

British Accommodation Redux***

Out of Britain yesterday came the news that all Olympic athletes must sign an agreement not to make any remarks critical of the Chinese government, or they will not be allowed to travel to Beijing. Prince Charles has already announced that he will NOT be attending the Olympics, were he to be invited. So who will be playing Lord Chamberlain this year? Perhaps the Archbishop of Canterbury would be available to bow and scrape. He's certainly in practice after his comments about accommodating sharia law in Britain.

*** The English soccer team gives the Nazi salute during the 1938 Olympics in Berlin.

The Culture Wars: Now, as Then

Working up to Valentine's Day, yesterday's Minneapolis newspaper featured a story entitled "Sweethearts in the Arts." Five couples were portrayed: cellists, actors, directors, and a producer, singer, painter, and stage manager. Three of the couples portrayed are married, one apparently is not despite their shared parenthood of two children, and one is a pair of gay guys. Of the five pairs, which is the only one that is photographed in bed? In this gay-advocacy town, you guessed it: Brad and John are shown cuddling in bed, surrounded with newspaper, coffee pot, and dogs as they "make the chance to relax" amidst their conflicting schedules.

In the early days, Christianity was a counter-cultural movement. Today, Christians won't get sent to the lions for refusing to accept the normative religion of the time as were the persecuted Christians, but it is clear what the media here want to establish as socially normative. The greatest challenge to Christianity then was to resist syncretism in belief; likewise, the challenge for Christianity today is to resist syncretism in morality. Does a lesser penalty make for lesser commitment to the battle? Let's hope not.

Write to the Defender of the Faith!

Now that Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams has thoroughly embarrassed himself in calling for sharia law in Britain, it is vital that he resign and that his successor be appointed before Queen Elizabeth steps down. As I've mentioned here before, the Archbishop of Canterbury is appointed by the English Monarch from a list of two candidates recommended by the Prime Minister of England. If Rowan Williams is the best we could get out of Tony Blair and Queen Elizabeth, can you imagine what might get appointed if the next Archbishop of Canterbury is appointed by a Gordon Brown-Prince Charles team? Better to act now while there is still a "Defender of THE Faith" sitting on the throne, rather than a "Defender of Faith," as Charles has described his intentions to be supportive of ALL religions.

You, yes, YOU can express your concerns to the Defender of the Faith. The royal website even implies that you are likely to receive a response (not so with regard to e-mail missives). Let your outrage be known by writing to Queen Elizabeth at this address:

Her Majesty The Queen
Buckingham Palace
London SW1A 1AA.

Seems guaranteed to be an "annus horribilis" for the Anglican Communion, if Williams is still in place by the time Lambeth rolls around.

Pange Lingua

Patricia Hampl is a St.Paul resident married to an Episcopalian. She is also the author of two books of poetry and six non-fiction books. Her highly evocative memoirs are grounded in the rich experience of growing up within the mysticial traditions of Roman Catholicism:

Mine was a Catholic girlhood spent gorging on metaphor--Mystical Body, transubstantiation, dark night of the soul, the little martyrdom of everyday life. And remember, girls, life is a journey. You own life is a pilgrimage. Maybe we had too much meaning too early. It was like having too much money. The quirkiness of life was betrayed, given inflated significance by our rich symbology. We powered around our ordinary lives in the Cadillac language of Catholic spirituality, looking on with pity as the Protestants pedaled their stripped-down bicycle.

Lent is a journey is which even the unicyclists among us are enveloped in religious drama. "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return," we all were reminded on Ash Wednesday. During Holy Week, if not before, our tongues will sing the glorious battle and we will confess that we tremble, tremble, tremble, at the realization of our Lord's sufferings. Ms. Hampfl's book clinches why it is that Lent has always seemed such an inviting, even happy time to me: for forty days we are reminded of the infinite gravity of the tiniest sin, yet are cheered by the knowledge that God's grace renders cosmic significance even to a child's tiny battle not to eat the chocolate bar hidden in the back of the kitchen cupboard.

Brain Blowers' Disease

A mysterious new disease is confounding the esteemed medical establishment in southern Minnesota. A handful of workers in a pork processing plant have come down with a strange neurological ailment causing extreme fatigue, numbness, and fever. Each of the afflicted employees worked at the "head table," at which their job was to use high-pressure equipment to blow the brains out of hog skulls. They wore boots, jackets, and goggles, but nothing covered their bare fore-arms, or prevented them from aspirating tiny bits of the air-borne brain tissue they were blasting out of the pig's skulls.

Let me hasten to mention that I enjoy a nice pork chop now and then. The lobbying efforts of my son, who is enamored with anything even remotely connected with Hawaii, succeed in landing into our grocery cart occasional cans of that perennial Hawaiian favorite produced here in Austen, Spam. Although I am not a vegetarian, I would probably run screaming for tofu and bean sprouts if I, myself, had to slaughter the animals whose carcasses grace the family table.

So, PETA member I am not, yet it somehow seems that this highly-industrialized killing and processing system that consumer demand for inexpensive meat has created, has moved us too far away from the sacred killing of the fatted calf that models, perhaps, the appropriate relationship between humanity and agricultural animals. Brain-blowers' disease now joins coronary disease and cancer as signals that something is out of whack.

If we could begin to think of meat as a condiment rather than a gustatory star, the advantages are many: better health, less cruelty to animals, and greater respect for the mystery of life in all its forms. What better time than Lent to explore meatless and minimal-meat-usage recipes?

Uber Christians at the Ballot Box

I teach adult small-group religion classes in three different venues, and over the nine months that this particular program requires, I tend to grow very fond of my students. Only very rarely, a student will do or say something that makes me cringe to the core. This has happened in this year of early primaries. While I strive to keep secular politics out of class discussions, coffee break time is open for grabs. I really need to find a venue at which the metaphorical coffee machine is FAR away and out of hearing range.

I admit that it is still with a little mental effort, but I largely have succeeded in working out internal equanimity over the fact that a small number of my dear students cast liberal ballots. They have made their choices, although different from mine, through an intelligent thought process. The students that currently are rattling my cage are conservatives who are unwilling to vote for Romney solely because of his membership in the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints.

"Does not the American Constitution guaranteeing freedom of religion mean anything to you?" I would like to ask. "Is there some criteria by which you can guage whether a candidate is Christian enough for you? Can you never imagine yourself voting for a Jew or well-assimilated Moslem? Is there some Christian ayatollah who tells you who is worthy of your vote?"

One self-righteous uber-Christian I know now mostly through e-mail correspondence is as conservative as they come. I was stunned to learn that she is considering caucusing for Obama tonight because "Hilary is such a liar." This dyed-in-the-wool Republican is way too smart to admit openly why she won't vote for Romney, but her refusal to answer the question speaks volumes.

Not voting for a person you would otherwise approve, solely because of his religious background, is an appalling exercise in bigotry. I'm beginning to think, however, that voting for a competent candidate in order to give him a shot over against the bigots of the world, would not be a bad way to cast a vote in this strange political season.

Objects in Mirror are Smaller than They Appear

While thumbing through the 2007 Diocesan Directory, I happened to notice that few of the Episcopal churches here in Minnesota have rectors at their helms. Of the 109-or-so churches listed, only twenty-five, less than 23% of the churches, have rectors. This is quite odd, given that "rector" is the normative designation for a priest given full clerical responsibility for a parish and enjoying the privileges pertaining to that status.

What about the rest of the churches? Only a couple-three can be said to be in a true transitional period with a true interim rector in place making genuine preparation for the hiring of a rector at the end of a presumptively-short interim period. Many have vicars, the term generally used for priests serving churches that are unable to support themselves. Many have "local priests," the designation for ordained persons who, never having attended seminary, may serve only in the churches that raised them up. It is no longer unusual to see no clergy person designated at all; these churches list the name of their organist, parish administrator, treasurer,pastoral care contact, et cetera, where a priest's name used to appear. No longer do the rosters even leave a blank space where the clergy leader used to be designated; perhaps that blank space invited too much attention to this anomalous situation. Lastly, there are many "priests-in-charge." This is the designation given to priests who do not enjoy full status as rectors of the churches they serve.

What's the big deal about the lack of rectors? Does a priest by any other name smell as sweet? In a word, no. Priests-in-charge can be particularly beholden to the Bishop (and perhaps more important here, the Bishop's staff) that placed him or her "in charge" of a given church. While it is somewhat difficult to remove a canonically-appointed rector, priests-in-charge and vicars can be removed by the stroke of a pen. Long gone are the days when the watchful eyes of esteemed "cardinal rectors" kept a bishop on his toes and in his place.

All this is not to say that vibrant ministries can not or do not occur in the places where rectors are lacking. What is clear is that all the creative maneuverings around the diminished number of rectors camouflage the small-and-getting-smaller state of the Episcopal Church in this place. One is tempted to ask of God, borrowing from Psalm 8, "What is the Episcopal Church that Thou art mindful of it?"