This entry will be posted at my personal blog, Cognitive Dissonance, as well, because it is there that I have been archiving a chronicle of sorts for both my journey into Anglicanism and my subsequent discernment into the clergy. It will also constitute a heretofore personally despised mish-mashy style of personal reflection, theological inquiry, and sardonic social commentary that is commonly known by its official nom de plume, Practical Theology.
To begin, I probably ought to offer a little background. As a Pentecostal, the Eucharist (communion) had always been a point of tension for me. First, doctrinally speaking, I was always puzzled by the Evangelical proclivity for the term “ordinance” – especially in light of the strong sacramental disposition of their favorite reformers like Martin Luther. Clearly, I appreciate the distinction much of the Protestant church makes in identifying Baptism and the Eucharist as the principle sacraments. It is a distinction the Anglicans make as well. However, its hard to deny that the term “ordinance” is designed to differentiate between a simple act of obedience to a command instituted by Christ and the sacramental assertion that the same were instituted as a means for receiving grace. In a doctrinal sense, the disconnect is simple. If we practice these “ordinances,” but they have no efficacy (i.e. baptism is just a post-salvation act of obedience, and communion is just commemorative; neither has the power to change you), then why bother with them at all? Indeed, that was the tone that nearly every Evangelical church I attended took – some churches couldn’t be bothered to have communion more than four times a year. It was as if they were compelled by a tradition to which they felt no connection, many times falling into that dead, religious repetition of meaningless ceremonies. The irony being, of course, that this is the same accusation I heard leveled against the high church liturgy and sacramentalism my entire life.
Second, the doctrinal position of most Evangelical churches (let’s not forget that there are very strong and respectable Evangelical movements within sacramentalism) creates an anemic theology. The Sacraments provide an indelible theological connection to the ontological reality of Christ among His people. The Eucharist, especially, provides the framework for understanding how the Church functions as Christ (‘s body) in the world, and how Christ can yet be distinct within the Church as Lord. The sacraments of Baptism and the Eucharist also provide a point of contact for modern believers with the death and resurrection of Jesus – it is our participation also in the kerygma of the Church. Through the practice and proclamation of such we not only participate in Christ, becoming Christ to the world and experiencing Christ’s presence in our own lives, but we engage for the briefest of moments in the glory of Christ’s coming kingdom. I don’t know perhaps this isn’t Pentecostalism’s fault. In fact, I rather feel like the focus on the Baptism in the Holy Spirit with evidence of tongues placed the apparatus of faith within me to receive the sacraments so readily. It was like Pentecostalism programmed me to be in a sacramental church. Maybe I was just a piss poor Pentecostal? Nonetheless, my experience with Pentecostalism and Evangelicalism drove me to ask (sometimes divisive) questions about the purpose and nature of the Church. Questions, incidentally, that I have come to believe are answered primarily (perhaps exclusively) in the work of the Holy Spirit through the Sacraments. In fact, this is a link to a page where you can hear a sermon to this effect by the Very Reverend F. Michael Perko, PhD. Hit the drop down menu and listen to the June 6, 2010 sermon – it’s only 11 minutes long (honestly, the 11 minute sermon is better than this entire post – you’re welcome).
Third, by way of personal experience, I always felt that communion was lacking in the Evangelical churches that I visited. It would certainly be nice if I could drum up the corroboration of friends that remember these conversations, but many times I would leave a communion service complaining there just had to be more to it than juice, crackers, and a few verses from 1 Corinthians. Many times, I found myself excited for communion, and those rare moments that God would “speak to me” invariably came during communion services. So, I went looking for more explanation than was handed down by the likes of Grudem, Horton, and Fee. That was when some of the trouble started. In short, and hopefully without sounding bitter, allow me simply to say that my questions (in Bible College) were ignored, side-stepped, dismissed, or received with general irritation. This, of course, only led me to believe I was on to something – and I was.
This was necessary information, I think, in order for you to understand my account of last Sunday. Last Sunday I was blessed with my first opportunity to serve as a chalice bearer during one of our services. I’ll spare you the dramatic retelling of the events of the morning (though, in an inter-personal setting I believe them to be quite powerful) in favor of listing the things about the experience that have impacted me.
First, I was really anxious for weeks leading up to the date I was to serve. I spent a lot of time reflecting on this anxiety, and realized that the Lord was using it to tease out some issue in my heart. Most people who know me personally, would describe me in one fashion or another (some of them in colorful turns of phrase) to be a perfectionist. My origins are less than illustrious, and I had really developed a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” kind of demeanor. In short, my anxiety over serving was really anxiety over appearances. I want desperately to do things right, and often this desire stems from a need to impress people. So, half an hour before service, I sat in the vesting room admiring a beautiful stained glass memorial and wrestling with my personal desire to be thought well of and the Church’s need for me to be a humble, unassuming servant for the morning. Of course, I did things wrong – and, of course, nobody thought less of me for them. Chalice bearing was a milestone in helping me let go of my pride, though. Indeed, I feel my lay ministry (and hopefully, in the future, my sacerdotal ministry) during the liturgy promises to be the most grounding experience of my Christian walk.
Second, I experienced a general elation about my participation in everything the Eucharist means. My heart was full, and I was on the verge of tears many times as I went through the service and contemplated how blessed (and proud in the good way) I was to be able to participate in God’s ministry of grace to his people. In fact, my heart was full of these emotions when the procession passed my family and my children jumped up and down smiling, saying “that’s my daddy.” The joy of being able to share in their experience was nearly too much to take – God was allowing me to be a vessel of service in their personal experiences with him. Perhaps most importantly, that moment has brought much clarification to my role as spiritual leader in the home (something in which, I must tell you, I have never felt lacking).
Feel free to comment, to share your experiences, or to ask questions. I am blessed by all the ways the community of Christ comes together in my life, not least of which are the people who invest in this blogging community.
The Icon Corner or Home Altar
June 23, 2010
My Home Altar
The Home Altar or Icon Corner is a venerable tradition in Christianity. The Eastern Orthodox claim it dates from the 1st century (which of their practices, doesn’t?). Personally, I find that having a space set aside for prayer and devotion to be useful for my own discipline; even so, getting myself to consistently use it is always an inner struggle. I’ve decided to show all of you this holy place to inspire and challenge you to make a space of your own in which to pray, and meditate on the mysteries and goodness of God.
Per tradition my Icon Corner faces East (toward Jerusalem). Here’s a list of items from top to bottom:
1. Icon of Resurrection of Christ, or the Harrowing of Hell (which is it? Nerd fight.) It is traditional to have an Icon of Christ above all others to signify Christ’s Lordship above all others. See picture below for detail.
2. An Icon of Christ Pantocrator, handwritten on Mt. Athos (according to the little plaque on the back), which came to me in a thrift store–those pagans had it lying in a junk bin with baseball gloves and crayons, priced at $.99!
3. A Crucifix from Kenya, which reminds me to pray for my sisters and brothers on the African continent. Besides an Icon of Christ, a crucifix is probably the next most essential item for an Icon Corner.
4. A palm leaf tied into a cross from Palm Sunday 2010 (tucked behind the crucifix). Hopefully, I’ll remember to burn it on Shrove Tuesday 2011.
5. An Icon of the Wedding at Cana, handwritten by an Orthodox iconographer from Minnesota, and given to my wife and I as a wedding present by the illustrious Dr. J. Davenport. See detail in picture below.
6. An Icon of Christ the Word creating the heavenly beings, and an Icon of Christ the Word creating the fish of the sea and the birds of the air. Along with the Resurrection Icon above, these were gifted to me by my brother-in-law and fellow contributor, Mr. Shawn Wamsley M.A., M.Div. (or do they go the other way around? Nerd fight.)
7. A votive candle and censer. Both were from thrift stores. I have not used the censer. I keep meaning to order some frankincense, but have yet to do so. A perpetually burning oil lamp is traditional in Eastern Orthodox Icon Corners. I’m a little nervous about starting a fire with one, personally.
8. I almost forgot the ordo kalendar on the wall level (more or less) with the crucifix, which shows all Episcopal fasts, feasts and saints days.
9. Back down on the blue table is my Book of Common Prayer/ Bible.
10. A set of Anglican prayer beads and a (barely visible) Jerusalem Cross pendant.
11. The table features a storage drawer for matches and stuff and shelf below filled with books of a (mostly) devotional or liturgical nature. It was also a gift from a dear friend who was getting rid of it.
Some Thoughts on the Apocalyptic Theses
June 17, 2010
There may be some who are not aware of something that has just happened on the internet. To my mind, it seems to be a moment signaling a potentially significant shift in the way internet theology is done: Nathan R. Kerr, Ry O. Siggelkow, and Halden Doerge recently composed a set of theses concerning what they feel are some troubling tendencies in contemporary theology to ‘prioritize’ the Church, presumably ‘over’ the ‘Gospel’ though this doesn’t quite come out explicitly…at least it hasn’t yet.
There have of course been internet blog symposiums and substantive engagement that has happened on the internet before. This is why I hesitate to say that this was itself a paradigm shifting kind of thing; nonetheless it seems to have generated a massive amount of fury and energy the likes I’ve yet to see in these kind of internet self-published theological debate. And it makes sense when theological journals can run over $150 bucks annually for a personal subscription, that the easy use, free cost and infinite availability of blogs can be, maybe, potentially, a viable site of exciting theological engagement.
People write controversial stuff on the internet all the time, but these theses went a step further by publishing simultaneously on The Other Journal, an online theological journal run by the Mars Hill Graduate School and one of the greatest things to happen to theological publishing since the advent of the internet. This meant at the very least that the Theses writers did not intend for their work to be merely a blog piece, however academic and engaging it was. *update* Over some confusion by readers the piece, which was never intended to be an edited academic piece, has been moved to the blog section of The Other Journal.
And so readers took it more seriously than a blog entry leading to nearly 250 comments, most of which were substantive as well as full fledged engagement from several other blogs. (The Other Journal, An Und Fur Sich – here, here and here, Church and Pomo – here and here, The Fire and the Rose…there may be others I don’t know about, if so please link in the comments)
The extreme posititions represented by the theses even garnered some charges of herterodoxy and the dialogue went too far in many cases, as most such blog comments are prone to do.
Thankfully I refrained, for once in my frickin life, from also saying things that I would regret later. I already have too many of those kinds of comments floating around the internet, plus I know one of the writers and enjoy having coffee with him. Indeed most of the concerns I have with the theses were addressed by more thoughtful and competent writers than me so I was not going to say anything.
But a recent comment struck me as so incredibly erroneous that I could no longer not at least enter the fray even though the conversation has settled down. I offer this in the spirit of gentleness and grace, in friendship and as a fellow brother in Christ. Nonetheless I doubt that my own concerns will sound so gentle in the phrasing so I can only ask that if Ry, Halden and Nate take the time to read them they will interpret me with the same generosity that I gave them on their site even if it’s the first time I’ve acted in such a way 
If you’ve not read the theses, nor all the comments, nor the other blog posts as I have, some of this might not make sense. I apologize in advance to these readers.
My own points will themselves be ‘theses,’ that is, they will not be systematic expostitions, rather they are concise and at-this-point-unargued notes made in order to contribute to the discerning work of the Spirit through the Church.
- I cannot abide the meta-critique of “Religion” vs “Gospel.” I find it to be as crude as Luther’s own Law vs Grace dichotomy and it utterly flattens out any hope of Scriptures multi-valent testimony to Christ from being heard in it’s proper complexity. It is an artificial uber-construct that, rather than being formed by Scripture’s own plenitudinous testimony to Christ’s significance, takes too much authority from Karl Barth and is used to impose a theoretical structure as ultimate judge over the Spirit’s showing-forth of Christ who has “spoken through the prophets” in more than a single form.
- This is why if followed through, this kind of theology does not seem to me capable of attending to the Old Testament scriptures in any consistent Christological sense.
- For instance the missional narrative of “exile” is by no means the only Scriptural way to speak about the Church in the world and it even misses that “Exile” in Scripture is punishment for apostacy and that the apostolic sending of the Paraclete in the Church is not judgement but joy. The properly Isaiahonic “Good News” is about return from exile, not it’s extension.
- The dissolving of any difference between Church and World (Thesis 3) is actually to voice the total non-existence of the Church at all.
- By so dissolving the Church, any “site” for the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit seems also to slip by
- This may in fact explain the paltry attention payed to the Spirit in the theses and this lack of serious reflection on the Spirit helps to make clear some other inherent weaknesses in the theses
- For instance, by calling worship “a perpetual factory of idols,” and “the site of our deepest estrangement” and even to go so far in another comment as to say that any and all forms of worship are inherently idolatrous fails to account for the charismatic gifts of the Holy Spirit given to the baptized for the ministry and building up of the Church. Paul encourages the exercise of these gifts and exhorts us to praise God by the composing of hymns and spiritual songs.
- The reason that worship is a site for reconciliation and not estrangement is because the Spirit proceeds through the Church back to the godhead and Herself sings the siren beautiful infinite song of worship. This is why the etymology of the word “liturgy” is such a pointless thing to bring up. Liturgy as the Church knows it is where the Spirit worships through the Church by word, sacrament and the exercise of her unique gifts.
- This is of course not to say that any and all acts of worship are purely of the Spirit…we are still ever being perfected, but it is exactly in worship that we are continually perfected.
- The lack of attention to the Spirit also explains why the ad hoc and obligatory mention of the Sacraments make absolutely no sense. Or at least they make perfect Zwingilian sense. How could they make any other sense when it is “Jesus Christ alone [who] is constituitive of the church’s sacramental existence.” In worship we are included in the very life of the eternal and Holy Trinity; not the Word alone.
- Also lacking is any substantive interaction with theology that is older than 100 years minus a passing nod to Aquinas in solidarity with Barth. Inasmuch as Christ has never been in want of a witness to His Holy Gospel this is an unfortunate fact about the theses. To name but an obvious example, where is any mention of the work of John of Damascus on holy Icons? Indeed what of the entire clash between iconodoules and iconoclasts? Is the testimony to Christ in the past of such little worth as to be ignored in favor of those whom are blind to the weaknesses of our own age?
- As to the most minor of my complaints…Most of the Apocalyptic vocabulary is somewhat masculine and almost violent.
And this brings us back full circle. This is a very Protestant and modern and some might say even, given it’s anti-“ecclesiastical” polemic, reactionary document. (I seem to remember a certain theses writer writing against “reactionary ecclesiology”) This is something that not even the many pious phrases uttered can fully conceal. It would be my hope that the naivety of saying that “we ONLY testify to the Gospel” can be politely passed over into more ‘epistemologically humble’ phraseology.
There is of course much to commend in these theses and I level no charges against their authors other than those I wrote here. Thank you Ry, Halden and Nate for taking the time to witness to the reconciliation of Jesus Christ and for sharing it with us.
Graham Ward: A Minor Annotated Bibliography II
June 16, 2010
See part I here. Also, I hope to make all of these into a PDF at the end so you should be able to download it.
I hope I did not seem to be too sure of myself when I said that Ward ‘saw weaknesses’ in Cities of God, as if somehow I am a fit enough mind to make such a judgement. This conclusion becomes clear in the second book in Ward’s Cities Trilogy, Cultural Transformation and Religious Practice.
Whereas I found Cities to be unsystematic and somewhat obscure, this book was a beacon of rigorous and focused thinking. This must be in part because he asks three questions in this book and focuses exclusively on them:
“From What Place Does Theology Speak?”
“How Do Cultures Change?” and
“What Is The Relationship Between Religious Practices and Cultural Transformation?”
To examine the first question, Ward (who is no novice with respect to the theology of Barth) examines the relationship between Barth’s theology and his biographical context. How do various and specific pressures on Barth work themselves out in his theology? The answer, unsurprisingly, is that Barth’s work was profoundly shaped by the various situations and motivations that worked on him and directed his mind. This is might be a controversial thing to say for those Barthinians who really think Barth explicated a “pure dogmatics of the Word,” but there is simply no “pure” anything so they’ll just have to get over it.
In examining how cultures change, Ward draws often on the work of Paul Ricoeur, as he does in his third section, to yield some sweet fruit. This second chapter pays particular attention to the cultural structures and poetics that affect our praxis. Within this he draws out how to understand the thinking “subject,” argues for “standpoint epistemology” and much besides. He corrects the passive and impotent subject of Foucault and shows how intentionality and imagination enable people not to be content with being merely acted upon yet also how we don’t come up with ideas ex nihilo but draw and pro-ject from available resources.
The third chapter more clearly examines cultural change with reference to the practices of small groups with particular attention to Christian practice. In order to do this Ward explains Benedict Anderson’s understanding of relationships as “imaginary” and moves on to talk about “authority” and “rhetoric” and even how the public sphere is created.
This book was concise, tightly and well argued, and made for exciting possibilities in how to think about many topics from doctrinal change to the situatedness of all discourses. I would recommend it to any Barthinian and to anyone doing or thinking about theology or any academic practice for that matter; not only because it complexifies the “assured results of modern scholarship” and also of any “pure dogmatics” but also, it’s just a tintilating read.
Graham Ward: A Minor Annotated Bibliography, Part I
June 14, 2010
This last semester, in order to fulfill some of my Liberal Arts requirements, I took a sociology class on “Cities and Social Change.” A large part of the class is dedicated to a substantive final paper. As I look for chances to combine my schooling with my theological interests, not formally studying theology at this time, I decided to write my paper on the work of Church of England theologian Graham Ward; more specifically his three volume work on Cities. These three are Cities of God, Cultural Transformation and Religious Practice, and The Politics of Discipleship.
I drew on several other sources as well including the two volumes that he edited and which I reviewed on this blog, The Postmodern God: A Theological Reader and The Blackwell Companion to Postmodern Theology. Especially useful was the introduction to The Postmodern God which engages with a theology of cyberspace. Additionally I read through portions of Christ and Culture and Theology and Contemporary Critical Theory.
It was my original intention to compose a roughly 30 page systematic summary of his cities work but found out (later than I should have liked) that the paper was to be much shorter so I had to completely redo it. In the end I focused specifically on the “Disappearance of the Body in the Postmodern City and the Theological Difference.” Even here I had only space and time to interact mostly with Cities of God, though I also took a fair amount from Discipleship and skipped nearly entirely over Cultural Transformation. I certainly learned a lot about paper writing as I tried to make this my first “real” academic paper. I think I did pretty poorly to be honest.
But what I can do is give a couple notes about approaching Ward and a bit about those books which I was able to work through. We’ll start with his Cities ‘Trilogy.’
Cities of God is a work in the (in)famous Radical Orthodoxy Series published on Routledge. It is divided in three parts. In part one Ward gives genealogies of both “The Modern City – Cities of Eternal Aspiration,” and “The Postmodern City – Cities of Eternal Desire.” In them he traces the fragmentation and social atomism of the body and, if you tie in a future chapter (as I think he should have) – “Communities of Desire” – with this part it ends up making what is to me a persuasive case for Ward’s reading of both cities.
In part two Ward proceeds to outline an “Analogical Worldview” which he thinks that Christian theology can offer. This analogical worldview heals atomism and fragmentation by a sketch of how we are made whole in the Body of Christ. It is here that he also outlines a theological account of the body, drawing in surprising ways on Karl Barth, and a Christian picture of desire.
In Part three, by examining several contemporary ‘angelologies,’ Ward reframes his previous discussion with reference to “Theology and the Practices of Contemporary Living.”
I was surprised to have mixed feelings about this book. I came into it quite sympathetic but I felt at the end as if he opened up more problems and unexplored rabbit holes than he did provide what seemed to me to be sufficient answers. He didn’t maintain a coherent argument throughout; for instance at least one chapter had already been released as an independent essay. Ward was his strongest when he was describing the cultural maladies that beset us in our contemporary urban context.
If one was to approach Ward’s work on cities I would first direct them to The Politics of Discipleship where he plays on many of the same themes as Cities but has obviously spent more time reflecting on weaknesses inherent in this book. I will give a few more critiques after the next two books in the series.
Prayer and Fasting for Peace
June 4, 2010
Today, as I sat contemplating the possibility of (more) war in the Middle East, I realized something: I don’t pray nearly enough for peace. Sure the deacon recites this prayer every Sunday:
“Guide the people of this land, and of all nations, in the ways of justice and peace; that we may honor one another and serve the common good…Lord, in your mercy”
To which I heartily reply: “Hear our prayer.” But that is by and large the extent of my prayer life concerning peace. What’s more, I’ve never fasted for peace.
It occurred to me that there are thousands–maybe tens of thousands–of Christians out there who don’t believe that peace is possible or even beneficial, who believe that America’s wars are blessed by God, who believe that violence toward Muslims, gays and other perceived enemies is just fine, and who pray and fast on a regular basis. There are National Days of Prayer when God has to listen to (among better things) idolatrous, nationalistic prayers about how He needs to bless America and Israel and destroy China, Iran, and North Korea, and how the Holy Spirit needs to touch Obama’s heart and make him repeal the healthcare bill, and resign, and get ”born again.”
But, when do I (we) pray that God fulfills the prophesy given in Isaiah 2:1-5? When do I (we) pray that God changes the hearts of human-beings–myself included–who harbor violence and hatred in their hearts toward fellow human-beings?
I may be an E-whisk-i-palian, and I even voted for George W. Obama (in answer to the billboard: “How can I miss George W. Bush, when we have one of his clones running the country right now!”) but, I still believe that God intervenes in human history. Don’t get me wrong, I also believe that we are God’s hands and feet, living Icons of Christ and representatives of His coming Kingdom. Right action must accompany prayer, but it is all too often the prayer part that gets left out in my life.
So, I propose that those of us in our little blog community who a) believe in peace and non-violence, and b) believe that God answers prayer start to assign some action to our beliefs. Maybe I’m the only one of you guys who isn’t, in which case, I need your guidance.
Shall we set aside one day a week to fast and pray for peace?
Shall we plan a week of fasting and prayer this summer?
How do you guys pray and fast for peace? I hope some of my peacenik friends will chime in here…
*PICTURE NOTE: I was looking for a cheesy prayer picture. I think I did pretty well. Gotta love lightning emanating from folded hands, accompanied by a dove and and open Bible. All that’s missing is an American flag and a M-16.
Tony Hunt
jstambaugh
Shawn Wamsley
