THE BESETTING SIN
Study of the Enneagram indicates that each of us has a “besetting sin,” a sort of innate fall-back position we cling to by habit or reflex. We come by it naturally, or have chosen it so early in life that we don’t remember the choice. It seems to work for us. We’re quite capable of committing all the other sins; it’s just that this one is our favorite. It is part of who we are. We don’t usually consider it to be a sin. In fact, we tend to value it as normal, and assume others must feel the same way about it, or would if they were as well-informed as we are. Of course, in fact, they have their own, which may be different, and they hold to theirs just as strongly. Unfortunately, the besetting sin is still a sin, and it harms us, because it limits our field of choices. It forces us to look at life through its prism alone, and therefore to see only its spectrum of colors. We see our world through our sin-colored glasses.
I am of the opinion that Christian denominations (and I would extend this observation to other religious groupings as well), also have a besetting sin that not only forms, but limits them. These arise out of the origins and formative years of the group, and they may be either baggage brought from some former entity, or they may be a reaction against what they have left behind or what has stood in opposition to them. To know the besetting sin, one has to know the history of the denomination. For example, the Roman Catholic Church is all that is left of the western half of the Roman Empire. As such, it has inherited the Imperial legal system and structure, with Pope as Emperor, right down to the tiny left-over scrap of being also a head of state. Consequently, the Catholic Church has historically been compelled to define, in legal terms, absolutely everything to the most minute detail. There can be no mystery, and certainly no ambiguity. The Church must be poised to go to court over every minutia of doctrine, at any time, and it must speak with unequivocal authority on anything. Their besetting sin, therefore, in my opinion, is authoritarian legalism.
But how about us Episcopalians? What is our crutch, our fall-back position? What piece of our identity, rooted in our origins, not only defines us in our own minds, but also inhibits us and holds us back? I would submit that it may be Anglo-philia—our inordinate, unreasoning fondness for all things English. Like most colonials, we go to such extremes that we are sometimes more English than the English. Many of our church buildings look as if they had been plucked whole from the English countryside. Our worship vestments are not just churchy, they are English Churchy. If we had an ethnic event, such as the Greek Orthodox sometimes have, ours would be High Tea—or “Pub Night,” as my congregation in Huntington used to have. We set great store in being part of the Anglican Communion, more so, it seems, than much of the Anglican Communion sets in having us. For many of our bishops, the Lambeth Conference is like a pilgrimage to holy Mecca, and that tea with the Queen (note “the” queen, not “their” queen) is a peak experience for a lifetime.
So what is wrong with all this harmless amusement? Nothing, of course, as long as it remains that; it can be benign and healthy as long as we retain our senses of humor and proportion, which this article hopes to encourage. If it becomes a box for us to take refuge and confine ourselves in, not so much. We have not been an Anglo church here in the U. S. for more than a generation, and as participation in our General Convention will attest, we are no longer a national church, either. If we expect non-Anglos of whatever type to conform to our preference for Englishness, we do them and ourselves a wrong.
There is more that goes with Anglo-philia, too, that is less benign, and we see it in our church culture as well, to our harm: classism, cultural elitism, excessive nationalism, and some of our racism have their roots in English tradition. Those jokes about Episcopalians “hating tacky worse than sin,” and for whom “sin is not knowing which fork to use at dinner,” harken to our early, Tory days in America. We’ve been working for some time to eradicate these negative influences. My hope is that simply raising to our awareness some of their origin will help us to accomplish that.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, #57
NEED—AND NEEDINESS
The Church is a place for the practice of all Christian virtues, right? The one place in the world, outside of family, where love abounds, where forgiveness is the norm, where grace can be expected. Alas, like the idea of “functional family,” “loving congregation” is largely a mythical creation of wishful thinking.
Not that striving to “live in grace,” is a bad idea—far from it. One hopes that in all congregations there are people who love one another, who are quick to forgive and slow to take offense, and who strive to draw, from themselves and one another, the best they have to give. It is just that, in this earthly vale, the heavenly ideal collides quickly with the fallen human reality, and difficulties ensue that cannot be ignored without imperiling the health of the whole congregation.
We all have needs. The need to serve and to be needed is one of them, and the need to be valued and appreciated is another. The Church can be a place where we are free to offer our best and to have our ministries recognized and honored.
With some, though, underneath the need lies a deeper, veiled, unrecognized thing I’ll call neediness, an equal-opportunity affliction which can strike male and female, young and old, clergy and laity. It can be a bottomless pit, a black hole of low self-esteem that no earthly compassion can penetrate. People with that form of neediness usually wander from congregation to congregation sooner rather than later, their expectations of others never satisfied. Or neediness can be just a chronic condition in which the craving for recognition in self-sacrifice holds greater import than the service itself or the actual need for it. This kind of neediness also comes with an unspoken and un-negotiated, one-way contract: “Because I do these things for you (perhaps without being asked), you owe me big time. You owe me love, praise, and high esteem. You even owe me the favor of asking me to continue to do these things. You owe me entitlement to these things.” And there is an implied threat: “If you don’t, you will hurt my feelings, and you will be a bad person. Your rejection may even drive me away (and it will be all your fault).” Thus, the needy person, placing all responsibility on the other, rules through hyper-sensitivity, and the congregation is held hostage to its own tender-hearted desire to be compassionate. Sadly, the less healthy the congregation is, the longer they tolerate and even feed this sort of behavior, to their own detriment.
Indeed, we are called by the love of Christ to love all those near us, and people who can be hard to love are no exceptions. Yet we are not called to love, or even to tolerate, all of their destructive behaviors. In AA parlance, we need to beware of becoming “co-dependents” to other people’s addictions, and neediness is an addiction to praise, esteem, and position. We’ve seen it so many times in the church: the rector who retires without yielding position and authority, the warden or altar guild directress “for life,” the treasurer or trustee who treats church funds and property as their own, the music director for whom imposing “superior” personal taste matters more than assisting the congregation to worship God, the soloist who would never be asked to sing anywhere else in the world but who is somehow indispensible in church, the kitchen or building-and-grounds czar, the pancake grill-meister—all these characters are uncomfortably familiar in the life of the congregation. When we say our congregation is “like a family,” we far too often mean that it comes with the word “dysfunctional” in front of it. And that does not bode well for the church family growing or holding together in the long run.
We are also called by Christ to work toward getting better: more whole, healthier in psyche and spirit. Toward that end, the congregation needs to have processes and systems that contribute toward greater wholeness. That is why it is so important for congregations to have term limitations and to rotate duties and offices. I know it is not easy in a small congregation, with few willing laborers. Even so, it is essential to health. It is also essential to growth, for in the musical chairs of shifting leadership roles, it is critical to leave seats vacant for a spell to allow someone new to occupy them if they will. We also need to be individually self-critical, daring to discern prayerfully within ourselves our own tendencies toward neediness, and pulling back from the abyss when needed.
After all, none of our ministries or even our gifts is ours to own: they belong to God. A congregation must not become too dependent on them, or even on us, for we are only passing this way for a time, and soon enough we will be on our way. If we can leave behind not only happy and affectionate memories of ourselves but also others experienced and able to fill our places, our time of ministry will be all the more fruitful.
The Church is a place for the practice of all Christian virtues, right? The one place in the world, outside of family, where love abounds, where forgiveness is the norm, where grace can be expected. Alas, like the idea of “functional family,” “loving congregation” is largely a mythical creation of wishful thinking.
Not that striving to “live in grace,” is a bad idea—far from it. One hopes that in all congregations there are people who love one another, who are quick to forgive and slow to take offense, and who strive to draw, from themselves and one another, the best they have to give. It is just that, in this earthly vale, the heavenly ideal collides quickly with the fallen human reality, and difficulties ensue that cannot be ignored without imperiling the health of the whole congregation.
We all have needs. The need to serve and to be needed is one of them, and the need to be valued and appreciated is another. The Church can be a place where we are free to offer our best and to have our ministries recognized and honored.
With some, though, underneath the need lies a deeper, veiled, unrecognized thing I’ll call neediness, an equal-opportunity affliction which can strike male and female, young and old, clergy and laity. It can be a bottomless pit, a black hole of low self-esteem that no earthly compassion can penetrate. People with that form of neediness usually wander from congregation to congregation sooner rather than later, their expectations of others never satisfied. Or neediness can be just a chronic condition in which the craving for recognition in self-sacrifice holds greater import than the service itself or the actual need for it. This kind of neediness also comes with an unspoken and un-negotiated, one-way contract: “Because I do these things for you (perhaps without being asked), you owe me big time. You owe me love, praise, and high esteem. You even owe me the favor of asking me to continue to do these things. You owe me entitlement to these things.” And there is an implied threat: “If you don’t, you will hurt my feelings, and you will be a bad person. Your rejection may even drive me away (and it will be all your fault).” Thus, the needy person, placing all responsibility on the other, rules through hyper-sensitivity, and the congregation is held hostage to its own tender-hearted desire to be compassionate. Sadly, the less healthy the congregation is, the longer they tolerate and even feed this sort of behavior, to their own detriment.
Indeed, we are called by the love of Christ to love all those near us, and people who can be hard to love are no exceptions. Yet we are not called to love, or even to tolerate, all of their destructive behaviors. In AA parlance, we need to beware of becoming “co-dependents” to other people’s addictions, and neediness is an addiction to praise, esteem, and position. We’ve seen it so many times in the church: the rector who retires without yielding position and authority, the warden or altar guild directress “for life,” the treasurer or trustee who treats church funds and property as their own, the music director for whom imposing “superior” personal taste matters more than assisting the congregation to worship God, the soloist who would never be asked to sing anywhere else in the world but who is somehow indispensible in church, the kitchen or building-and-grounds czar, the pancake grill-meister—all these characters are uncomfortably familiar in the life of the congregation. When we say our congregation is “like a family,” we far too often mean that it comes with the word “dysfunctional” in front of it. And that does not bode well for the church family growing or holding together in the long run.
We are also called by Christ to work toward getting better: more whole, healthier in psyche and spirit. Toward that end, the congregation needs to have processes and systems that contribute toward greater wholeness. That is why it is so important for congregations to have term limitations and to rotate duties and offices. I know it is not easy in a small congregation, with few willing laborers. Even so, it is essential to health. It is also essential to growth, for in the musical chairs of shifting leadership roles, it is critical to leave seats vacant for a spell to allow someone new to occupy them if they will. We also need to be individually self-critical, daring to discern prayerfully within ourselves our own tendencies toward neediness, and pulling back from the abyss when needed.
After all, none of our ministries or even our gifts is ours to own: they belong to God. A congregation must not become too dependent on them, or even on us, for we are only passing this way for a time, and soon enough we will be on our way. If we can leave behind not only happy and affectionate memories of ourselves but also others experienced and able to fill our places, our time of ministry will be all the more fruitful.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, Number 56--Formation
THE FORMATION IMPERATIVE
Not long ago, I had the pleasure of working with the vestry of Christ Church, Bluefield, as they hammered out an excellent mission statement together. We were all feeling pretty good about the accomplishment, and I looked at it contentedly and said, “What it says to me is that you are committed to being an academy and laboratory for Christian living.” They liked that summary and wound up with it as a bonus at no extra charge to use as a slogan for advertising and such. However, I’m not so sure that slogan singles them out so much as having a unique mission: in fact, I would hope that pretty nearly EVERY Episcopal congregation would have the idea of teaching and practicing a Christian discipline as part of their DNA, if not as their mission statement.
Here’s the rub: we Episcopalians THINK (because we’ve been told so) that we are all about worship. That’s because we have tended to think we do worship particularly well (often kind of like a symphony orchestra does music particularly well, with a handful in the audience). But worship is not our foundational activity. Christian Formation is, for worship is merely one, albeit a very important one, of several aspects of congregational life that build and support Christian lives.
When a congregation has the notion that Christian Ed is for children; that Confirmation means “graduation” from Church School; that Bible study and other forms of adult formation are for the handful of truly devout but somewhat weird members, not for oneself; that Inquirers’ Class is the full extent of education needed for full, life-long participation in the life of the church—that congregation is in a heap ‘o trouble. The Evangelical churches count on a sudden, cathartic, one-time experience of conversion to Christ. We don’t. We count on a life-style of living and practicing the life of conversion over a period of time. How ironic that they so often do a better job than we do with on-going Christian Formation.
It isn’t eccentric for adult Christians to participate regularly in some kind of instruction in scripture, tradition, and practice. It’s just the Episcopal way.
Not long ago, I had the pleasure of working with the vestry of Christ Church, Bluefield, as they hammered out an excellent mission statement together. We were all feeling pretty good about the accomplishment, and I looked at it contentedly and said, “What it says to me is that you are committed to being an academy and laboratory for Christian living.” They liked that summary and wound up with it as a bonus at no extra charge to use as a slogan for advertising and such. However, I’m not so sure that slogan singles them out so much as having a unique mission: in fact, I would hope that pretty nearly EVERY Episcopal congregation would have the idea of teaching and practicing a Christian discipline as part of their DNA, if not as their mission statement.
Here’s the rub: we Episcopalians THINK (because we’ve been told so) that we are all about worship. That’s because we have tended to think we do worship particularly well (often kind of like a symphony orchestra does music particularly well, with a handful in the audience). But worship is not our foundational activity. Christian Formation is, for worship is merely one, albeit a very important one, of several aspects of congregational life that build and support Christian lives.
When a congregation has the notion that Christian Ed is for children; that Confirmation means “graduation” from Church School; that Bible study and other forms of adult formation are for the handful of truly devout but somewhat weird members, not for oneself; that Inquirers’ Class is the full extent of education needed for full, life-long participation in the life of the church—that congregation is in a heap ‘o trouble. The Evangelical churches count on a sudden, cathartic, one-time experience of conversion to Christ. We don’t. We count on a life-style of living and practicing the life of conversion over a period of time. How ironic that they so often do a better job than we do with on-going Christian Formation.
It isn’t eccentric for adult Christians to participate regularly in some kind of instruction in scripture, tradition, and practice. It’s just the Episcopal way.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A Volley from the Canon, # 55 And What Does the Lord Require of Us
WHAT DOES THE LORD REQUIRE OF US?
When a congregation is considering the question of what its mission or purpose statement ought to be, perhaps a foundational beginning might be some of the things scripture actually teaches us to be essential to the faith. Jesus’ own specific teachings to his followers would be an excellent place to begin—not simply to lift a piece out of scripture and adopt it as mission (since that would be too general and universally applicable to provide specific identity or direction to a congregation), but to set up some categories to begin with.
We shouldn’t neglect the Old Testament while we are at it, for it is our scripture, too. Recently, I came across an edition of the Bible that comes with yellow highlighting on all verses or portions of verses that mention the responsibility of God’s people to promote justice and to care for others who are in need. The proportion of scripture that has yellow highlighting is impressive, to say the least.
The prophet Micah provides a useful summary. “What does the Lord require of us,” he asks rhetorically, “but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God?” That pretty well covers it, and I cannot imagine Jesus objecting to that sentiment.
Bishop Barbara Harris quotes the late Dr. Verna Dozier as saying that we too often reverse the verbs in that passage in our own practice. She says we only “love” justice, while we actually “do” mercy. Justice, you see, requires commitment and sacrifice to DO, but it is easy and cost-free to be vaguely in favor of it, if it ever should somehow happen. Mercy is easier to DO; we can just write a check. It has the added advantage of meeting with universal approval, and not rocking anyone’s boat. Justice, however—DOING justice could turn the world on its head (a phrase that rings a Pauline bell, now I think of it. This is what the early church was accused of wanting to do!)
Imagine that. A congregation whose purpose is to turn the world on its head.
When a congregation is considering the question of what its mission or purpose statement ought to be, perhaps a foundational beginning might be some of the things scripture actually teaches us to be essential to the faith. Jesus’ own specific teachings to his followers would be an excellent place to begin—not simply to lift a piece out of scripture and adopt it as mission (since that would be too general and universally applicable to provide specific identity or direction to a congregation), but to set up some categories to begin with.
We shouldn’t neglect the Old Testament while we are at it, for it is our scripture, too. Recently, I came across an edition of the Bible that comes with yellow highlighting on all verses or portions of verses that mention the responsibility of God’s people to promote justice and to care for others who are in need. The proportion of scripture that has yellow highlighting is impressive, to say the least.
The prophet Micah provides a useful summary. “What does the Lord require of us,” he asks rhetorically, “but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God?” That pretty well covers it, and I cannot imagine Jesus objecting to that sentiment.
Bishop Barbara Harris quotes the late Dr. Verna Dozier as saying that we too often reverse the verbs in that passage in our own practice. She says we only “love” justice, while we actually “do” mercy. Justice, you see, requires commitment and sacrifice to DO, but it is easy and cost-free to be vaguely in favor of it, if it ever should somehow happen. Mercy is easier to DO; we can just write a check. It has the added advantage of meeting with universal approval, and not rocking anyone’s boat. Justice, however—DOING justice could turn the world on its head (a phrase that rings a Pauline bell, now I think of it. This is what the early church was accused of wanting to do!)
Imagine that. A congregation whose purpose is to turn the world on its head.
A Volley from the Canon, #54 A Matter of Policy
A MATTER OF POLICY
At this writing, I am visiting Anniston, Alabama to officiate at the wedding of my niece Rachel in St. Michael and All Angels Church, a very beautiful English-style stone church set down incongruously in a working-class neighborhood in small-town Alabama. To do this, we had to “borrow” the church, with which no one in the family has any connection. Rachel grew up actively involved in Church of the Holy Comforter, Charlotte, NC. But when she left for college, her parents moved to suburban D. C., where she has lived only briefly after University. One day, on retirement, her parents will attend The Church of the Holy Comforter in Gadsden, Alabama, but that time is not now, and Rachel does not know that congregation. She attends graduate school in Austin, TX, where she will not reside for long. Bottom line: she is at that time of life when she has no “permanent” church congregation. She and fiancé Jonathan know they want to wed in church (and she wants it to be an Episcopal Church). But what church, where?
Sound familiar? In this highly mobile society, this scenario describes the plight of many a person, and not just twenty-somethings.
The paternal grandparents, who are not Episcopalian and limited in mobility, live near Anniston. If the wedding is held here, they can attend, and there are other family members still in Alabama. The groom, Jonathan’s, family are from Arkansas. So everyone else has to travel anyway—why not gather here?
In many instances, clergy exclusivity and hard-headedness, that’s why. How many parish clergy are even willing to listen through a convoluted story like the one above, much less to consider seriously and open-mindedly the possibility of allowing such an “outside” ceremony to be performed in “their” church? More than used to be the case, fortunately, and the Rev. Bruce White, of St. Michael and All Angels, is one of them. He and his altar guild wedding volunteers are being extraordinarily hospitable. The parish even housed the after-rehearsal dinner, food supplied by an outside caterer, of course, but making fullest use of the church’s buildings. They could hardly be more delightful to work with.
There is a substantial fee, and that is not inappropriate; after all, it costs money to maintain this impressive structure, and it is only fair to expect interlopers such as ourselves to share that responsibility. But to get to the point of this writing: congregations need to have carefully planned and thought-out written policies, with input from all concerned (altar guilds, musicians, vestries, sexton staff, clergy) as to who can be accommodated with requests to use the church facilities for meetings, weddings, funerals, baptisms, and parties, and under what circumstances. The policy needs to be designed to include and draw in, not to exclude and rule out. It needs to be attuned to the mission of the congregation. It needs to be about Stewardship, Servanthood, and Evangelism.
We’ve all been plagued by those calls: “I belong to Possum Creek Church, but your church is so pretty, I thought I’d like to have my daughter’s wedding there.” It can get pretty annoying. Still, when we respond to such requests, it wouldn’t hurt us to consider, trite as it is, “What Would Jesus Do?” In our answer, prepared by careful policy planning done in advance and not in the heat of re-action, I would hope there will always be Good News.
At this writing, I am visiting Anniston, Alabama to officiate at the wedding of my niece Rachel in St. Michael and All Angels Church, a very beautiful English-style stone church set down incongruously in a working-class neighborhood in small-town Alabama. To do this, we had to “borrow” the church, with which no one in the family has any connection. Rachel grew up actively involved in Church of the Holy Comforter, Charlotte, NC. But when she left for college, her parents moved to suburban D. C., where she has lived only briefly after University. One day, on retirement, her parents will attend The Church of the Holy Comforter in Gadsden, Alabama, but that time is not now, and Rachel does not know that congregation. She attends graduate school in Austin, TX, where she will not reside for long. Bottom line: she is at that time of life when she has no “permanent” church congregation. She and fiancé Jonathan know they want to wed in church (and she wants it to be an Episcopal Church). But what church, where?
Sound familiar? In this highly mobile society, this scenario describes the plight of many a person, and not just twenty-somethings.
The paternal grandparents, who are not Episcopalian and limited in mobility, live near Anniston. If the wedding is held here, they can attend, and there are other family members still in Alabama. The groom, Jonathan’s, family are from Arkansas. So everyone else has to travel anyway—why not gather here?
In many instances, clergy exclusivity and hard-headedness, that’s why. How many parish clergy are even willing to listen through a convoluted story like the one above, much less to consider seriously and open-mindedly the possibility of allowing such an “outside” ceremony to be performed in “their” church? More than used to be the case, fortunately, and the Rev. Bruce White, of St. Michael and All Angels, is one of them. He and his altar guild wedding volunteers are being extraordinarily hospitable. The parish even housed the after-rehearsal dinner, food supplied by an outside caterer, of course, but making fullest use of the church’s buildings. They could hardly be more delightful to work with.
There is a substantial fee, and that is not inappropriate; after all, it costs money to maintain this impressive structure, and it is only fair to expect interlopers such as ourselves to share that responsibility. But to get to the point of this writing: congregations need to have carefully planned and thought-out written policies, with input from all concerned (altar guilds, musicians, vestries, sexton staff, clergy) as to who can be accommodated with requests to use the church facilities for meetings, weddings, funerals, baptisms, and parties, and under what circumstances. The policy needs to be designed to include and draw in, not to exclude and rule out. It needs to be attuned to the mission of the congregation. It needs to be about Stewardship, Servanthood, and Evangelism.
We’ve all been plagued by those calls: “I belong to Possum Creek Church, but your church is so pretty, I thought I’d like to have my daughter’s wedding there.” It can get pretty annoying. Still, when we respond to such requests, it wouldn’t hurt us to consider, trite as it is, “What Would Jesus Do?” In our answer, prepared by careful policy planning done in advance and not in the heat of re-action, I would hope there will always be Good News.
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