The Seminar on Conflict Ecclesiology

NH: Thesis 21: Strikethrough

2009-03-13T12:47:00.005-04:00

In the sidebar at right (scroll down), I have decided to put Thesis 21 in ~~strikethrough text~~. This is not because I wish to remove it entirely, but to denote that I now find the methodology enshrined in Thesis 21 to be provisional at best, and counterproductive to the aim of Conflict Ecclesiology at worst. It now strikes me that Thesis 21 is too conflict avoidant to address adequately the situation of a church in conflict.

Unfortunately, I cannot think of a better proposal to put forward to amend or replace it!

Perhaps silence is best. Or is that, too, avoidant?

NH: The Seminar on Hiatus

2008-07-16T17:28:00.006-04:00

The Seminar on Conflict Ecclesiology is on hiatus until one of the following things happens:

1. A member of the seminar responds to a post, either in a comment or a responding post.
2. A member of the seminar posts a new topic question.
3. A reader of past posts decides to comment, and this sparks an ongoing conversation.
4. A reader of this blog requests to become a member of the seminar and begins to post.

In the meantime, I am going to focus on my "bully pulpit" blog, Communion in Conflict, and make the occasional contribution to the group blog Covenant. I may also post elsewhere from time to time.

I wish the other members of this seminar well on their own projects, which include a doctoral dissertation, a new book deal, and new jobs.

I hope that visitors who happen across this blog will read the archives and feel free to comment. I am always interested in what other people think on these topics.

NH: The Utility of This Exercise (and Thesis 21)

2008-04-02T14:28:00.006-04:00

Over a month has passed since the last post on this conversation, but it has often been on my mind. Holy Week and Easter intervened, however, and even now I ought to be editing an over-long sermon, but I will take a few moments for a brief response.

I will get to Thesis 21 itself in just a moment, but first I want to express my gratitude to the members of the Seminar who have engaged this topic for helping me refine my thinking on the notions of "sacrifice" and "martyrdom." I still may not be able to articulate very well what I think, but here's a first attempt:

I do not believe it is appropriate to call any other person or group to make a specific sacrifice or to become literal or metaphorical "martyrs" to a cause or for the sake of any person, group, or ideal, even if I am personally willing to make the same sacrifice or be similarly martyred. In other words, I believe the call to sacrifice and martrydom--two concepts that I would combine in the word kenosis, or "self-emptying," can come only from God; though it may be mediated through others, it cannot originate in an "other." Thus, the statement, e.g., "I believe God is calling all gay and lesbian people to refrain from offering themselves for holy orders as a 'sacrifice' or 'martyrdom'" is inappropriate and theologically indefensible.

I do believe, however, that the Christian vocation (that is, the vocation of every individual Christian and thus collectively the whole Christian Church) necessarily involves (at some stage) a Christlike kenosis; indeed, the whole of Christian life could be described as the discipline of learning how to be kenotic.

The particular shape and content of this kenotic life must be carefully discerned. The Christian community may assist in this discernment (though it is just as likely to serve as an obstacle to it), and what is "edifying" is a key component of discerning the shape and content of the kenotic life.

I'm sorry if this sounds a bit esoteric, so let me try to put it in the language of praxis: When discerning God's call to you, figure out what's worth dying for. If something is not worth dying for, its eschatological and existential value is limited. If it is worth dying for, then pour yourself out for it.

Were everyone to engage in a kenotic praxis, people would be pouring themselves out for opposite causes, most likely, but in that self-emptying, they would be providing a witness (martyrdom) to the Church--and by "Church" I simply mean "all the baptized." When the people of the Church see how people are pouring themselves out for the sake of something, if that kenosis is truly of God, the people of the Church will see that it is marked by the Fruit of the Spirit, as Galatians 5:22-23 lists them: "But the Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

Clearly, the ability of the people of the Church collectively to discern such Fruit is, as I believe Christopher Evans has pointed out in many of his own reflections on his blog, limited by the individual and ecclesial sin of those who are doing the discerning. And the purity of the witness of those called by God to a particular kenotic life will likewise be in direct proportion to the measure of the fullness of Christ that any person has, by grace, attained.

I don't know whether this clarifies or mollifies anyone. In any event, what about Thesis 21?

I am now convinced that Thesis 21 goes too far in suggesting a specific methodology for discernment and praxis. The Thesis states:

21. The primary task of the Church in conflict is to discern that which is edifying to the Church, and to engage in that; likewise, the Church must discern what is unedifying to the Church, and however good or true such a thing may be in and of itself, must be refrained from unless (or until) it can become edifying to the Church.

I might amend it, at the very least, to:

21. The primary task of the Church in conflict is to discern that which is edifying to the Church, and to engage in that.

Or even:

21. The primary task of every person in the Church is to discern individually and collectively as best as possible what is, in that particular time and place, edifying to the Church, and to engage in that.

But does this reformulation simply take the teeth out of the thesis altogether? Isn't there a necessary juxtaposition of "edifying" with "unedifying," and a concommitant responsibility to show restraint when something is suspected of being "unedifying?" Or is such a method too timid, too ready to quench the Spirit in its eagerness to test the spirits?

I'd appreciate some help here.

And finally, do I think this exercise has any utility? Only insofar as it is equipping me and others to be more loving people in the Church and in the world. For in the final analysis, only love is edifying in the truest sense of that word.

PC: The Utility of this Exercise (and Thesis 21)

2008-02-26T22:36:00.007-05:00

Ah,...I think that things are getting interesting, perhaps enough to rouse me from my slumber...

NH stated:

Thesis 21 may, indeed, have "all the makings of disordered self-absorption that characterize the church at its historic worst: that is, the church's self-obsession to the exclusion of its mission, leading, paradoxically, to its greater fragmentation rather than greater cohesion and unity." But if this is true, what are we to do about it? For I maintain that Thesis 21 describes rather accurately the methodology of the Windsor Report and its strategy of "moratoria" as the way of "creating space" for conflicts to be worked through and...eventually, perhaps, resolved. If this is wrong-headed--indeed, Pharisaical--then it needs to be revealed as such, with compassion, humility, and for the sake of us Pharisees.

Friends, we have a conflict in this Seminar. Shall we address its content, or shall we simply avoid talking to each other, convinced of our own right(eous)ness?

Is "withdrawal" your best answer to these questions?

I think that we have been dancing around the many questions inherent in Thesis 21, and I generally agree with NH that "Thesis 21 describes rather accurately the methodology of the Windsor Report." And I know just how emotionally charged the words "Windsor Report" can be for many of those Episcopalians from various places in the church. At my diocesan convention just last month my bishop renamed a study group that was looking at the "emerging consensus about same-sex blessings" from the rather uninteresting "R-5 Report" into the "Windsor Listening Group" (or something like that). Several people I talked with were so angry that "Windsor Report" language were being used, and felt like the views, feelings, and stories of gays and lesbians would not be heard, for this was how the people I talked with understood what the "Windsor Report" was.

In answer to the question about "withdrawal," I say that no, I don't feel called to withdrawal, and I actually feel engaged to reflect upon Thesis 21. Now, I certainly see that some of these discussions can seem downright futile in the face of the larger mission of the church, however, thinking through how the church might hang together (or hang apart) ...(to oversimplify things) seems very important to me -- not more important than feeding the poor or preaching the gospel, but going along with them hand in hand, since mission follows out of a sense of the body of Christ...

Thesis 21 states:

21. The primary task of the Church in conflict is to discern that which is edifying to the Church, and to engage in that; likewise, the Church must discern what is unedifying to the Church, and however good or true such a thing may be in and of itself, must be refrained from unless (or until) it can become edifying to the Church.

In some ways this thesis really gets my goat, and gets me really riled up ... who is "the Church" that "discerns" what is "edifying" anyway? I think of a post by Lauren Stanley over at The Episcopal Cafe who was sick of people calling "The Anglican Communion" something that is "out there" rather than affirming that we, too, in The Episcopal Church are a part of the body of the Anglican Communion. So, who is this "the Church"....? Lambeth, the ABC, the ABofNigeria, the House of Bishops of TEC, the General Convention...or, pushing beyond our Anglican waters...Ecumenical Councils, bodies, etc? Who is "the Church" that could ever really "discern" what is "edifying"...

...my thought is that depending upon what group one chooses, one's boundaries between what is edifying and what is not would change radically (this seems so obvious, I feel silly even saying it). The Diocese of New Hampshire would go through a different process (and have a different result) than a Covenant Design Team currently constituted as it is.

On the other hand, having some sense that we are connected one to another may involve some sense of "refrain" in order to lift up the importance of Unity. This sounds pretty appalling even as I type it into the computer, refraining from one's identity? Refraining from who one loves? Refraining from healthy, loving, relationships? Refraining from building up, supporting, choosing and electing ordained (and lay) leadership no matter what their sexual orientation? Hmm....I can see already the difficulty with thesis 21.

However, we do strive to be in communion with others who might not see things as we do, who might ask us to step back from some decisions. I have made plenty of errors in my life, and I have tried to listen to those who are critical of me, and I try to work to see things in a broader way -- to see things perhaps even as the "other" does. I have even, reluctantly, sacrificed some of my own needs for the greater needs (of family, of workplaces, of friendships...).

However, I am moved by what TH said about sacrifice, and about the danger of asking someone else to sacrifice for the good of the whole --- which sounds all too much like an Orwell or Huxley-esque novel which critiques our humanity.

TH stated:

Which brings me to the most troubling aspect of this rhetoric: the suggestion that some should offer themselves sacrificially in order to preserve the "unity" of the church/communion. This borders, I'm afraid, on a recapitulation of the advice of Caiaphas: that it is expedient someone else should be made to suffer for the good of the many. While not a Girardian myself, I can also see distinctly troubling Girardian underpinnings in this suggestion; coupled with images of Moloch and the slaughter of the innocents. For while it is always moral to offer oneself, to sacrifice oneself, for the good of others; it is never, absolutely never, permissible to sacrifice -- or suggest the sacrifice of -- others for the sake of ones own good.

So, where does this leave me on thesis 21... well, I guess I have no clear answer ... I struggle to see how we can "refrain" from doing things that we've discerned that the Spirit has led us to do. On the other hand, I grieve for us, and for those who have left our body, and I yearn to find a way to make it known that there room for them at the table and at the foot of the cross.

What say the other members? Are there other thoughts ... I think 21 is pretty challenging!

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NH: The Utility of this Exercise

2008-02-26T14:01:00.003-05:00

I find it sadly ironic that at the very point where things start to look promising, Members of this Seminar are indicating a desire to "withdraw" from it. Is this withdrawal tantamount to "walking apart," as the Windsor Report so euphemistically calls schism?

The twenty-one theses are of my own devising, yet Thesis 21 has been the one that I have felt the most ambivalent about, and which I have from time to time thought of unilaterally disowning--taking it off the table of the Seminar and thus off my conscience. It is an inconvenient thesis (not to be confused with "an inconvenient truth") because it goes to the heart of some of the most vexing questions of ecclesiology, discipleship, and mission.

The very first post of this Seminar, An Invitation to Critique and Revise these Theses, asked: "After reviewing the twenty-one theses of Conflict Ecclesiology listed to the right, how would you revise them so that they are more theologically adequate to the tasks of ecclesiology? (Corollary to this is the question: What are the tasks of ecclesiology?)" All along I have been waiting for people (Members, commenters) to take on the assumptions inherent in Thesis 21, to point out its apparent inadequacies, to engage each other in asking the hard questions.

Instead, what I see here is conflict avoidance.

Thesis 21 may, indeed, have "all the makings of disordered self-absorption that characterize the church at its historic worst: that is, the church's self-obsession to the exclusion of its mission, leading, paradoxically, to its greater fragmentation rather than greater cohesion and unity." But if this is true, what are we to do about it? For I maintain that Thesis 21 describes rather accurately the methodology of the Windsor Report and its strategy of "moratoria" as the way of "creating space" for conflicts to be worked through and...eventually, perhaps, resolved. If this is wrong-headed--indeed, Pharisaical--then it needs to be revealed as such, with compassion, humility, and for the sake of us Pharisees.

Friends, we have a conflict in this Seminar. Shall we address its content, or shall we simply avoid talking to each other, convinced of our own right(eous)ness?

Is "withdrawal" your best answer to these questions?

TH: The Utility of this Exercise

2008-02-25T16:48:00.005-05:00

I have not posted for a while, and this is only partly a result of my being rather busy with a number of other projects. The other part of my reticence derives from an increasing sense that the conversation to some extent becomes a substitute for action; as well as a growing discomfort with the general focus upon "what is good for the church."

I suppose this comes to a head with the ultimate thesis, which in its present form reads:

I am, in light of ongoing witness from groups who press for some form of Covenant for the Anglican Communion, beginning to feel that this thesis has all the makings of disordered self-absorption that characterize the church at its historic worst: that is, the church's self-obsession to the exclusion of its mission, leading, paradoxically, to its greater fragmentation rather than greater cohesion and unity.

The question that must be asked is: Is the church's preservation, edification, or anything else along those lines, demonstrably intended by God as the primary reason for its continued existence? The church is not, in short, its own object. It is a means to an end, not an end in itself.

The notion that some act or concept "good or true... in and of itself" must remain unacted or unconceived "unless or until it can become edifying to the church" strikes me as completely backwards -- as if the Good and True existed for the benefit of the Church, rather than the Church existing as the servant of the One who is Good and True. This kind of talk about the "good of the church / communion" appears to me to be more and more the language of the Pharisee (not the villain of popular imagination, but the real Pharisee who meant so terribly well, but was so terribly wrong, as elucidated by Bonhoeffer.) Such "unity" and "edification" in the body of the church, at the expense of the Good and the True, seems to lose any sense of the self-sacrificial nature of the Body of Christ, the Body which must suffer and die and be reborn, to be broken and given rather than built up, rather than obsessing about its own self-preservation.

Which brings me to the most troubling aspect of this rhetoric: the suggestion that some should offer themselves sacrificially in order to preserve the "unity" of the church/communion. This borders, I'm afraid, on a recapitulation of the advice of Caiaphas: that it is expedient someone else should be made to suffer for the good of the many. While not a Girardian myself, I can also see distinctly troubling Girardian underpinnings in this suggestion; coupled with images of Moloch and the slaughter of the innocents. For while it is always moral to offer oneself, to sacrifice oneself, for the good of others; it is never, absolutely never, permissible to sacrifice -- or suggest the sacrifice of -- others for the sake of ones own good.

So I find it incumbent upon me to withdraw for a bit from these discussions, as I am more and more convinced that Unity is not the issue, if Unity is maintained at the expense of the Good and the True. Since I believe, ultimately, that the Unity of the Church is an irrevocable gift from God in any case; in short that that the Church is One -- and that what we see as divisions and fissures are matters of the sectarian and institutional squabbles that beset any reasonably large assembly of fallible human beings. I think the time would be better spent actually examining the content of the conflict, rather than the mere fact of Conflict -- which, as I've noted before, is essentially unavoidable.

GW: Reconciliation

2008-01-31T17:12:00.001-05:00

Paul begins and ends his recent post with reconciliation, and asks a very interesting question: "Is reconciliation possible except at those points where victory seems assured and the victors need to, or choose to, be magnanimous to the vanquished?"

My immediate response was YES! And then I stopped to wonder why he would have asked such a question. That led me to the dictionary and, I believe, a starting place for our conversation on reconciliation.

The definitions I found were thus:

(1) To restore friendly relations between.
(2) To cause to coexist in harmony; to make or show to be compatible.
(3) To make (one account) consistent with another, especially by allowing for transactions begun but not yet completed.
(4) To settle (a disagreement).
(5) To make someone accept (a disagreeable or unwelcome thing); to reconcile someone to.

As I read it, those are some widely divergent definitions. Suddenly I had a framework for understanding Paul's question. For where I view reconciling as at a minimum a process of restoring friendly relations and rejecting perceptions of enmity, it sounds like Paul might see it as settling a disagreement (at best) or (worse) forcing a decision on others under the guise of universal agreement.

One little word, and such potentially divergent understandings. I wonder if this is where we need to begin, with the simplest of questions on the subject: Just what do we mean when we speak of reconciliation in the larger sense of conflict ecclesiology?

PB: conflict and reconciliation

2008-01-25T03:40:00.000-05:00

As it stands thesis 5:

Reconciliation of human beings to each other in the church cannot happen unless the church is also committed to an ongoing reconciliation of the church to God.

is evidently insufficient. Individuals may be reconciled with one another despite the church; even when the church is fully committed to reconciliation with God individuals may fall out. Even if the context is less personal and more corporate this thesis seems to suggest that it is possible to phase reconciliation, or that some parts of the church are not seeking reconciliation with God, neither of which seems satisfactory to me.

Yet I have found it particularly difficult to engage with the central and vital question of reconciliation. Reflecting on this theme has led me to modify a number of my presuppositions. In the end I have plumped for further questions rather than my usual pontification, starting with just what is the place of reconciliation in conflict ecclesiology?

I have previously assumed that conflict is the normal condition of ecclesial life; that it is a complex force for cohesion; that it is inherently unstable, liable to collapse into dissolution and fracture. Yet, change the perspective a little, and the same church could be described as a dynamic, self-renewing, inclusive communion. Conflict and communion are thus both the normal condition of ecclesial life as more than merely a matter of which spectacles you look through that morning.

It seems to me that conflict is characteristically an ideological struggle for the soul of the church: it is waged between groups who wish to shape a church's identity in specific ways within the register of Christian faith. Historically there have been times when conflict seemed bitter and all-embracing; at other times it has seemed no more than a background disturbance to regular worshipping life - a hobby for clerics who don't get out much.

Victory (which seems an odd word to use in this context, yet 'victory' is what describes the objectives of the contending groups) is achieved by the numerical and cultural dominance of positions of authority and the customary language of church life.

Therefore conflict also, secondarily but inevitably, entails conflict over the organizational structures of the church. Existing structures provide the channels by which conflict may be engaged. Victory gives the victor the power to modify structures in order to consolidate their success. (Today's legal structures may be regarded as the terms of a truce after the last conflict.)

I call in aid to this argument the opening paragraph of a blog entry by Tony Clavier which I coincidentally tripped over just before settling down to write:

We are told by our church's leadership that there's ample room for traditionalists and "orthodox" moderates in the fold, that we should "stay in and fight", an unfortunate metaphor for Christians, and "take our place at the Table." We are even told that traditionalists are valued and appointed to commissions and committees of the National Church and of General Convention, although the evidence for such a deliberate policy is perhaps less than obvious.

Here the mixture of conflict and communion, ideology and structures is succinctly encapsulated.

(Clavier's plea for 'affirmative action', which is where this article leads, is an acknowledgment that 'traditionalists and "orthodox" moderates' are a minority in need of special assistance because they have been unable to claim the places they believe themselves entitled to by right. Such compensation - modification of the structures - is only likely as part of a truce following the group's visible defeat in the ideological battle. Although, of course, no-one would ever use such words, at least not in public.)

And in the middle of ecclesial conflicts there are always (or almost always) those who see their role in terms of conflict resolution [see Thesis 4]. Alongside the ideological warriors are those who wish to reach out to their opponents and find neutral space in which to seek grounds for peace; those who would translate the occasion for conflict into terms that all sides can agree on; those who seek to modify the organizational structures to encompass all the contending parties. Thus conflict resolution is inherent to conflict. Conflict engenders change in the church: the particular shape of that change stems from both the substance and manner of the conflict and also from the actions and choices of those who worked to resolve the conflict.

My final reflection is that victory is never complete, merely the start of the next conflict.

Some questions:

What enables and contains conflict in ways which enable it to be a cohesive force?
What mechanisms hold conflict and communion in the one church simultaneously?
At what point, or by what triggers, does conflict tip from being cohesive into self-destruction? Is this always historically contingent? Can patterns be discerned from different conflicts and churches?
What is the point or place of reconciliation while the bullets are still flying?
How do ecclesiastical conflicts come to an end?

Reconciliation presumes that sufficient people wish to be reconciled.

Is reconciliation possible except at those points where victory seems assured and the victors need to, or choose to, be magnanimous to the vanquished? (After all, the greater the numbers which the victors can claim, and the less turbulent the opposition, the greater the victory.)

This does nothing for Thesis 5, I'm afraid. But I would like to think that a more nuanced understanding of both conflict and reconciliation might further deepen conflict ecclesiology.

GW: Question About Thesis 5

2008-01-08T12:59:00.000-05:00

The amended Thesis 5 states:

Reconciliation of human beings to each other in the church cannot happen unless the church is also committed to an ongoing reconciliation of the church to God.

Is this a full and complete statement, or should we also look at the corollary:

Reconciliation of the church to God cannot happen unless the church is [or: the people of the church are] also committed to an ongoing reconciliation of human beings to each other [or: to each other in the church]?

Does this add anything? Change anything? Or is it just more words to throw at the situation?

NH: Purity & Holiness

2007-12-04T10:10:00.000-05:00

Thank you, Paul, for taking four rather polemic theses against puritanical thinking/acting and revealing the charitable impulse behind them by making explicit their positive value.

A pilgrimage toward holiness can too easily be mutated into a crusade for purity.

As for the inflamatory use of "satanic" in Thesis 14, it may well be out of place in what are intended to be irenic statements. The rhetoric of "satan" can only go to hell in a handbasket.

Nevertheless, I have been reluctant to jettison the vocabulary of my fundamentalist youth altogether. For though I no longer believe in a quasi-Manichaean universe where a personalized being named Satan is pitted as the comic book archvillain against the superhero Jesus, I do believe that evil has a cosmic dimension that cannot be restricted to human unconscious psychological motivations or identified as residing in one part of the brain or another. (Time Magazine's cover story just this week is entitled "What Makes Us Good/Evil.")

My former spiritual director, a rather progressive woman, began each session with the prayer, "We ask you, Father, to send Satan away in the name of Jesus, that this space may be holy." By "holy" I know she meant in part "safe." Satan is a powerful mythic word for that capacity of evil to "accuse" the guilty conscience. (Satan, as you know, means "The Accuser," as in a court prosecutor.) When Satan is "cast out," the darkness of sin that tries to overshadow the Light of Christ loses its power over the one burdened with guilt, and all that remains is the unconditional, forgiving, and redeeming love of God in Christ. This frees the person in that safe/holy place to stand naked yet unashamed before the God who created that person--it is an Edenic moment, where through grace sinful human beings can experience a sort of prelapsarian communion with God, free (if only temporarily) from the Serpent who gets us to muck things up.

But since it's so hard to unpack the mythic power of this language, fraught as it is with a lot of negative cultural and ecclesiastical baggage, I'm not opposed to excising it from the Theses. The term "satanic tempation" is shorthand to me for "the tempation to accuse others in the hope of gaining power through manipulation." Is Thesis 14 salvageable if one drops the rhetoric in favor of a plainer definition?

I suppose what I'm afraid of is resorting to language that is merely therapeutic or academic in its origins and overtones, and "satanic" demonstrates my fondness for a way of speaking that acknowledges the dark underbelly of life in the church and the world.

As for your proposed changes, I wonder what the other Members and readers of this blog think of them, and will continue to mull them over. I still think there needs to be an admonitory element in them, something that cues people into the danger of the rhetoric of "purity." But I suppose marshalling the rhetoric of "satan" against the rhetoric of "purity" might be an ill-conceived strategem!

In a different context, I recently opined that the (satanic?) temptation for communion-minded people is the tendency to divide the Church into those that "get it" and those that "don't get it" when it comes to Jesus' embracing-yet-converting inclusivity, and then to exclude those who "don't get it." Our challenge, I suggested, is to embrace those who "don't get it" with the same love that Christ has embraced us, and to remember that Christ doesn't love us because we "get it," but because Christ first "got us."

PB: Impure, but holy

2007-12-04T02:37:00.000-05:00

The base meaning of purity is, I suggest, 'of one substance' – with no foreign or extraneous material, unalloyed, unadulterated, unpolluted, uncontaminated. Musically a pure note is a tone of a single frequency. Pure math(s) is unconnected with the real world, with the nuts and bolts of engineering.

Biologically none of us is purely human: we cannot live without a vast zoo of microscopic fauna inhabiting our bodies. In human society moral, racial, conceptual purity is simply unattainable: we are a messy species [ Thesis 11].

Religiously the ancients recognised that purity and change were incompatible and God, in Godself, was therefore seen as unchanging, impassible. Yet, for the mortal, to live is to change, to be who we are is to be engaged in a process of continually becoming someone slightly different. So, perhaps, even the attribution of ‘pure’ to Jesus is inappropriate, tending to privilege his divinity over his humanity [Thesis 13].

These connotations of purity are not ideas I would attribute to the church, to any church. It is, I think, an inherently exclusive idea: a material is pure when all else has been removed from it.

Nor, notwithstanding the venerability of ‘semper purificanda’ [Thesis 12], would I want to see purity as an ideal or aspiration for the church. It would seem impossible to restrict such a notion to the fierce and humbling purification by fire but would always keep the door open to purification by force.

I suggest that the idea of purity as an ecclesiological aspiration is inherently an invitation to ecclesiastical conflict. First, it requires a group or, worse, an individual, who claim the right to determine what purity means and the power to exclude those who do not conform to that determination. Second, more pernicious, purity is only knowable by its shadow: those who claim to determine what purity means actively need the impure so that their own purity and their right, even duty, to impose their determination on others may be made clear. Third, purity is a matter of degrees of precision, of ever more exacting criteria. Therefore groups which seek purity (whether religious and political purity) have an inherent tendency to fission as some of their members define themselves as yet more pure than the whole group. The aspiration to purity is inherently exclusive and inherently violent; whether it is ‘satanic’ [Thesis 14] I couldn’t say, but it is certainly all too human.

Therefore, I submit, purity should not be an ecclesiological category.

And yet,

Simply to remove the idea of purity leaves a conceptual vacancy which, if unfilled, would only impoverish both the church and reflection on it.

Therefore may I suggest ‘holy’ to replace ‘pure’. The two words are very close and, for many, the ideas may be inseparable. What is holy is kept apart, free from profanation, from sin, unsullied, uncontaminated, consecrated to God.

Yet, for me, ‘holy’ is an adjective attributable to ordinary things, places, people in ways that ‘pure’ is not. For me holiness is the continual process of conforming oneself to God and the evocation of holiness is the continual task of the church. The way of holiness includes repeated failure and recovery, false starts and reorientation, forgiveness and hope. Purity, to my ear, can only encompass these ordinary aspect of human life punitively.

Holiness may well be exclusive but it need not. The evocation of holiness as a task of the church can, I believe, be exercised in ways which are inclusive, which welcome all those who wish to step onto the path of ever closer union with God. It can recognise too the vast register of spirituality of which any church (whether denomination or local congregation) can only hold a small range. It can include the enquirer and the most ascetic religious.

Purity entails some people claiming a knowledge of what is pure which may be used against others. For me holiness entails a wisdom which learns to listen to the laughter of God.

Therefore, I submit the following amendments for consideration [delete the words in square brackets, add the words in italics]:

11. The only [pure] truly holy community is the Kingdom of Heaven, which is not the church. [Purity] Ultimate holiness is only attained eschatologically through participation in the divine lovelife of the Holy Trinity, the source of all [purity] holiness. [As such, it is impossible to have a “pure church.”]

13. The only [pure] truly holy human being ever to walk the face of the earth is Jesus Christ. His [purity] holiness was and is maintained through his communion with God[, not through disassociation with the unpure].

12. [Nevertheless,] In its communion with God it is possible for the church to be holy and always aspiring to holiness. [semper purificanda,] Insofar as participation in the divine lovelife of the Holy Trinity is possible in the here-and-now through [the] its community [of the church] and its reconciling relationships the church continuously struggles to realise its God-given holiness.

[delete: 14. Purity through isolation and schism is a satanic temptation; the more one values orthodoxy and holiness, the more attractive this temptation.]

NH: Tweaking Thesis 16

2007-11-20T20:30:00.000-05:00

Tobias Haller wrote:

Reviewing Thesis 16 I would like to offer the following italicized clarifications:

16. Ecclesial stability must be rooted in a basic common commitment to Jesus as the Incarnate Word of God whose Spirit interprets the Written Word of God to the community. The Chalcedonian Definition of the full humanity and full divinity of Christ and Nicene Trinitarian faith are foundational to this account of ecclesiology. All ecclesiology is Christocentric, pneumatic, realistic, historic, and eschatological.

My question would then be to challenge the idea that an ecclesiology must be Nicene, Trinitarian, or Christocentric. Or, phrased more practically, What happens to an ecclesiastical structure when one or more of these elements is removed; or conversely, overemphasized?

I second Tobias' clarifications, and propose one more clarification in the final sentence that pertains to his question above:

Conflict Ecclesiology is Christocentric, pneumatic, realistic, historic, and eschatological.

That is, re-reading this thesis, it seemed too specific to me to claim that all ecclesiologies must maintain these elements, since other ecclesiologists can do what they please, and who are we to say otherwise? But Conflict Ecclesiology, if it is to be rooted, needs a theological center. In order to engage with credibility the notion of the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church (OHCAC) of the Nicene Creed, it should profess credence in it.

But to address Tobias' question directly, I personally believe that if an ecclesiology is not Chalcedonian or Nicene in its approach to Christology and the Trinity, it isn't really talking about the Church Catholic. If any are removed, we loose the deposit of faith that the OHCAC exists to proclaim. (I write proclaim because this is a dynamic mission, as contrasted to the claim that the OHCAC exists to "preserve" the deposit of faith, as if the apostolic faith were a static artifact.)

The other alternative Tobias wonders about is what happens to ecclesiastical structures when any element is overemphasized (presumably to the detriment of other elements). To this I would simply point to our "unhappy divisions" past and present, each of which is due as much to an overemphasis of one of these elements as to an underemphasis of others.

Thesis 16 exists to underscore that the OHCAC has an historical identity and rootedness, and that Conflict Ecclesiology isn't just about holding an amorphous community together, but of showing that it has discernible bounds that keep it recognizably a community in the first place: a community that proclams the full humanity and divinity of Jesus of Nazareth, the Incarnate Word, the second person of the Trinity.

TH: Inclusivity as Difference

2007-11-16T11:20:00.000-05:00

It appears to me that inclusion in the body of the church is not intended to be undifferentiated or dis-embodied. On the contrary, the dignity of the individual member is affirmed in the Pauline organic concept of the Body. Each stone of the building -- even if similar in essence -- is differentiated from every other stone if only by virtue of its position in the building. No other stone can simultaneously occupy the same space. And as each stone bears a different weight and imposes its own weight on other stones, so too it remains differentiated from all of the other stones while yet working in concert with them for the good of the whole edifice.

It also appears to me that the church is not an amoeba-like absorber of individuals, but rather a coalition and fellowship of individual members. Their conversion is coincident with their inclusion: baptism is not merely a sign of inclusion, but an efficacious and sacramental conversion to the new life in Christ, which is to say, in the Body of the Church.

The tension inherent in the fellowship of differentiated entities is thus put to good use only in and through their inclusion in the whole, and their conversion from isolation to integration, from individuality to membership. The church is enriched by the differences it includes, to the extent that they cooperate in its upbuilding. Each member of the church is identical in essence (that is, a redeemed human being) while remaining distinct in personhood. In this way, the dynamism of the church reflects the perichoresis of the Trinity itself. This is in keeping with the prayer of Jesus that all should be one as he and the Father are one.

TH: Thesis 16: Tweak for Clarity

2007-11-16T11:08:00.001-05:00

Reviewing Thesis 16 I would like to offer the following italicized clarifications:

16. Ecclesial stability must be rooted in a basic common commitment to Jesus as the Incarnate Word of God whose Spirit interprets the Written Word of God to the community. The Chalcedonian Definition of the full humanity and full divinity of Christ and Nicene Trinitarian faith are foundational to this account of ecclesiology. All ecclesiology is Christocentric, pneumatic, realistic, historic, and eschatological.

My question would then be to challenge the idea that an ecclesiology must be Nicene, Trinitarian, or Christocentric. Or, phrased more practically, What happens to an ecclesiastical structure when one or more of these elements is removed; or conversely, overemphasized?

PC: Inclusivity? Welcome? Transformation? Sanctification?

2007-11-15T21:48:00.000-05:00

Thesis 15 is a wonderfully provocative statement that pushes the Church to define what we mean and what we do not mean when we say that the church should be "inclusive"...the Thesis is:

15. Absolute undifferentiated inclusivity is not a Gospel value, inasmuch as absolute inclusivity is static. Inclusion without conversion is contentless.

Is there a difference between being "inclusive" and being "welcoming"? (Archbishop Rowan Williams had some comments on this question last spring)

Put another way, is the church called to hospitality to all, but perhaps not called to be all things to all people? And, if so, how does the church discern (see posts on discernment...) how and when to be hospitable and how and when to be inclusive.

When people in the church make "inclusivity" a high value, are we then forgetting that individually and corporately we are called to conversion, to transformation and to new life in Christ? And then, how wide is are tent supposed to be in terms of including various voices, beliefs, pieties, and behaviors?

How can we unpack the term "absolute undifferentiated inclusivity" in terms that we live in the church today?

(I will post my own thoughts later....)

O

NH: Purity & Ecclesiology

2007-11-15T14:53:00.001-05:00

Four of the twenty-one theses of Conflict Ecclesiology are concerned with the function of the notion of "purity" in ecclesiology, viz.:

11. The only pure community is the Kingdom of Heaven, which is not the church. Purity is only attained eschatologically through participation in the divine lovelife of the Holy Trinity, the source of all purity. As such, it is impossible to have a “pure church.”

12. Nevertheless, it is possible for the church to be semper purificanda, insofar as participation in the divine lovelife of the Holy Trinity is possible in the here-and-now through the community of the church and its reconciling relationships.

13. The only pure human being ever to walk the face of the earth is Jesus Christ. His purity was and is maintained through communion with God, not through disassociation with the unpure.

14. Purity through isolation and schism is a satanic temptation; the more one values orthodoxy and holiness, the more attractive this temptation.

The thrust of these four theses seems to be polemically directed against conservatives in the Church, as expressed in Thesis 14. Does this reveal a bias against orthodoxy within Conflict Ecclesiology?

Is there a sort of purity that self-avowed progressives seek, i.e., a purity of ideology, a pure "inclusivity"? What admonitions might need to be directed toward liberals on this topic?

NH: Thesis 10: Self-evident?

2007-11-15T14:47:00.000-05:00

Thesis 10 states:

In the church, redeemed humanity ought never to be confused with perfected humanity.

Is this thesis simply axiomatic, or can it be challenged?

If it is self-evident, does it deserve the "status" of a thesis?

Thesis 10 seems to imply that some of us do, in fact, confuse redeemed humanity with perfected humanity. What are the consequences of such a confusion?

TH: Icons and Idols

2007-11-07T18:19:00.000-05:00

Nathan raises three interesting questions in relation to thesis 7.

First, is it possible to discern what is idolatrous from what is iconic when one is in the midst of conflict?

I begin to wonder if it might not be true that if something is the source of conflict it automatically loses part of its capacity to function as an icon. So that, to give a concrete example, the iconoclast controversy, by turning the focus of the church to the icons themselves, made them into the very thing the iconoclasts accused them of being, even for the iconodules, who were so busy defending them as things in themselves they lost sight of that to which they were meant to direct attention. So conflict, to the extent that conflict itself turns our attention (or to use the language of the thesis "focuses the community's energy") even for a moment away from God, transforms even the church itself into an idol. There is, I think, something blasphemous in this.

The second question: Are there some issues that just can't be "church-making"?

I wonder if this question is not unlike the question of what constitutes adiaphora. If there is conflict it isn't adiaphora --- this is only something perceived in the emergence of that "new consensus" we keep hearing so much about, with the passage of time. And if instead the result is schism --- that, in hindsight, will tell us it was only church-making in the sense of creating a division, which may result in two or more new groups each or all of which may still claim to be "the church." This is not the kind of church-making I think we are talking about, however.

Which leads to the third question: What does it mean for something to be "church-making"?

I understood the term church-making to be related to the issues of edification or upbuilding of the "one church" --- not the multiplication of new denominations! So I don't think breaking the church into new divisions can be seen as anything other than painful.

Unless... This gets us into the whole scandal of the division in the church, which ultimately exists because each of us thinks "we've got it right" or at least have something to offer that someone else lacks. I have argued in the past for a kind of organic model of the "one church" in which each of the various traditions or denominations served as an organ in the larger body. And the ecumenical hope I see growing from this is not the emergence of a single hierarchical and ecclesiastical entity, but a communion of communions each with its own distinctive iconic pointing to the one Truth, in a unity based on mutual respect rather than an ecclesiastical (governmental) structure. This is the only way in which I can understand distinctiveness as encompassing unity.

NH: Questioning Thesis #7

2007-11-02T17:06:00.000-04:00

I've decided to begin asking questions about those theses we haven't touched upon yet. Thesis #7 states:

07. Issues are church-making when they are used iconically, that is, to point beyond themselves to God as the focus of the community’s energy. Issues are church-breaking when they are used idolatrously, that is, to point to themselves as the focus of the community’s energy.

First, is it possible to discern what is idolatrous from what is iconic when one is in the midst of conflict?

Second, Thesis 7 seems to imply that any issue can be church-making depending upon the response of the community. (Thus challenging that any clear-cut dichotomy is possible between things that are inherently "church-breaking" and those that are inherently "church-making.") Are there some issues that just can't be "church-making"?

Third, what does it mean for something to be "church-making"? We know that it's easy enough to find a pretext for schism, but do we actually have the power to "make" the church? What does this mean?

PB: Discernment, so to speak

2007-10-30T08:42:00.000-04:00

(A short string of important caveats: this is no more than a personal attempt to struggle with an aspect of my own spiritual journey; I am not theologically competent to pronounce on the subject; I know these are well-worn paths and that I do not know who is walking them nor where they are walking to. This is no more than the way it seems to me, today. And I have written of this before, elsewhere, and yet every time I come back to the theme I struggle with the words as though starting all over again.)

The first part of this reflection is here.

Knowing what we are looking for

In order to know what is of God we have to start with a prior picture, paradigm, presupposition of what God’s action looks like. Otherwise, how could we know when we’ve found what we’re looking for?

I perceive God as continually seeking to engage with humanity, with people, to dance with them, to wrestle with them, to draw them, us, slowly ever deeper into Godself so that people, all people, you and I, may discover, nurture, realise our potential, the fullness and glory of our own self.

The initiative is with God (David Jenkins, past Bishop of Durham, is said to have said of the incarnation that ‘We are not up to it, but God is down to it.’). God comes to us just as we are. It seems to me that God takes us far more seriously that we often take ourselves.

We are complex creatures who engage in complex ways with one another, with the physical world, with God. I believe God takes seriously our biological physicality, our psychological perversity, our epistemic conundrums, our social structures, our limited cognition.

Our picture of God’s action is part and parcel of our understanding of what it is to be human. It therefore follows that shifts in the human understanding of human being should also prompt shifts in our picture of the way God acts.

If, as I believe, God loves us then, as I see it, God loves who we are: simply and solely for being ourselves. You, me. God loves unhesitatingly, without reserve, with compassion deeper than our passions can reach, with knowledge of who we are that we ourselves cannot ever grasp. And at the same time, in love, God continually calls us to be more than we are, to risk our self in God in the hope of becoming more intensely what we could be. To engage with God is to be loved in a way that drives out fear, is to respond to the depths of God’s love song.

God versus people

Yet most of the language I hear about God’s action sets human action and Gods at contradistinction. Should I blame Barth’s proclamation that the Bible is God's Word independent of human reason? Anyway, I think this whole idea is wrong, unsustainable, an impoverishment of our relationship with God.

For example: the very carefully worded TEC response to the Draft Anglican Covenant contains the phrase “Communion and unity are both gifts of God, not something that we create.” But from my perspective these are simply not opposable: communion and unity are gifts of God realised through our faithful creativity.

If God gave us a gift, wrapped it in shiny paper, wrote out a label saying “Happy Christmas, from God”, if God then asked his son to take it round to our house and deliver it in person, so that we would know where it came from, it would still be useless. It would be no more than a meaningless box with paper round it.

It is only when we engage, when someone takes off the wrapper and looks and understands, that there is gift-giver-recipient. It is only with thank you notes and further conversation, with reciprocal giving, that a relationship is created. How can God love if it’s all one sided?

Discernment in Babel

So I am struggling to turn my gaze towards people in order to see God’s actions. I have stopped looking for signs of God in the absence of human making but it is still hard to find the words to express the search for God, with God, in the processes of human creativity.

God is with us in the mess, in the divided and bounded and unholy day-to-day reality of our churches, in suffering and death, in competition and anger, deceit and pettiness, as well as in beauty and caring and health. If God loves us, it seems to me, then that love is expressed in fact and in action and in all the limitations of human reality.

So I try to turn away from abstractions and look to the particular, to the historical specificity of human action before God. It is there, I believe, that those who have eyes to see may perceive the action of God (though, I suspect, only in retrospect).

I believe this is a rich and difficult spiritual path with no simple or unmistakable signposts along the way. It makes discernment, edification, the evocation of holiness all much more difficult. It requires faithful decision makers to be responsible for their own decisions and to recognise their own limitations before God. It also rules out the exclusive, aggressive claim: “This is the Word of God.”

PB: Discernment in particular

2007-10-30T08:37:00.000-04:00

Peter Carey’s comments on discernment, and especially the observation that he is in the middle of a ‘discernment process’, and Ginger's questions, lead me to observations that I will divide between two posts:

First, discussion of discernment needs to be historically specific (this post). Second, that discernment must be based in a prior conception of the way in which God relates to people (in Discernment, so to speak).

Ideally,

those doing the discerning should approach the task with the right personal and corporate disposition (prayerful, humble, professional). The process and allocation of responsibility should be clear to all. Relevant (and only relevant) information should be weighed and co-ordinated with the rationale and conclusions of similar decisions. Time, information and consultation should all be proportionate to the implications of the decision at hand. Criteria for judgement should be explicit, justified, agreed and used. Later information, or unintended or unexpected consequences, should be cause to review and possibly change the original decision. Some people will never be happy with a certain decision but everyone involved should have cause to trust the process.

But in real life

The reality, of course, is very different. There is never enough time. Irrelevant (and irrational) factors may dominate. Priorities may be set by other people’s agendas or by who hassles you the most. Busy people may find it impossible to focus on one decision at a time. Communal decision making becomes power politics and all decision making is set in the context of corporate politics. Organizations often come to decisions cumulatively making the allocation of responsibility and accountability difficult. The desire to watch one’s back, hedge bets, fudge matters, claim responsibility only if things go well or just to put things off, is all too common.

Furthermore it’s often the case that there is no clear answer. Often the objectives are not clear enough to start with. Or the issues may be so evenly balanced that the final decision is made on the slightest of grounds. Or the people concerned take such opposed views that there is no agreed answer, and the least worst becomes the best possible. No matter what care is taken people get hurt.

Decisions are always limited. They are constrained by past decisions (to misquote Karl Marx: we make history, but not in circumstances of our own choosing), by finance and other resources, by what’s politically feasible, and there can never by complete information. Frequently the issue is less about making the best decision but about what will do for now.

And all this applies in good decision making. Often the whole thing is done badly.

Discernment

Dissonance between ideal conditions and reality sets up several tensions. An impossible standard can impoverish decision making. High standards can always be called on later to judge and condemn decision making that falls short.

Low standards in practice ( which no-one would ever recommend) can leave people bewildered, excluded, suspicious or hurt. The term ‘discernment’ can easily become a cloak to cover the irrationalities, prejudices and incompetence of decision making; it can offer acceptable phraseology to gloss over all kinds of weaknesses.

And still not very specific

Yet it is evident that I still find it much easier to talk in general terms. Perhaps one way forwards might be to post a particular, real life, question requiring a judgement - and the questions we would ask of the person making the judgement would reveal what we believed to be important in our discerning.

And then, in the end, how is it possible to say that God works in one way and not in another:

A previous Bishop of Sheffield told the story of how he had asked two people to look at a parish with a view to becoming its priest. After the first person visited she wrote to the Bishop to tell him that, after much prayer, she believed God was not calling her to that particular post. The second person also turned the job down on the grounds that the house was inadequate, the local schools not right for the children, it would be too far for his wife to commute to work. “So” asked the Bishop “how do I judge between these answers?”

NH: On Discernment & Power

2007-10-29T11:51:00.001-04:00

I found the reflections on the meaning of discernment by Peter, Paul, and Ginger extremely helpful and challenging. (An aside: Too bad Ginger's name isn't Mary, or alternatively that Our Lady wasn't the Blessed Virgin Ginger..."Peter, Paul, and Ginger" has quite a nice ring to it...)

In particular, I'm struck by Paul's wondering whether "...discernment is an aerosol word, to be sprayed around generously to make things smell better. Its criteria are not transparent and, as Ginger indicates, it can’t be judged on tests of agreement or unity. It seems to have considerable potential to put an acceptable face on the exercise of power..." It is precisely this concern that motivated me to write about Bp. Shaw's reported comment on "prophetic discernment" to the Archbishop of Canterbury over at Communion in Conflict.

Nevertheless, I haven't lost faith in "discernment" as something real that the Church must engage in; at the same time, I've become increasingly sceptical of the optimism expressed in Thesis 3:

03. The goal of discernment is not to resolve conflict but to know the will of God for a particular community in a particular place and time.

It's rather ambitious to try to "know the will of God," even if it is "for a particular community in a particular place and time." So I'm not sure that Thesis 3 describes something possible. And if it's impossible, it's not a very helpful thesis, is it? Still, I haven't given up all hope, because I'm not convinced that it's impossible to know the will of God--and know that one knows it. But the epistemological questions are far too tangled for me to sort through...

Rather than trying to define discernment or how one knows that one knows, perhaps a more helpful approach is to look at the goals and fruit of discernment. Thesis 6 expresses it this way:

06. Discernment plays a prophetic role in the church, in that it names the idols and false gods that we have erected in our sanctuaries and calls us back to the worship of the one, true God.

But there's that word, "prophetic," that I questioned in Bp. Shaw's comments! When I read Thesis 6 I think, "Yeah, that's what discernment does." But then I get caught up on: "But how?" Thesis 21 tries to address this, I think:

21. The primary task of the Church in conflict is to discern that which is edifying to the Church, and to engage in that; likewise, the Church must discern what is unedifying to the Church, and however good or true such a thing may be in and of itself, must be refrained from unless (or until) it can become edifying to the Church.

I've become increasingly uncomfortable with the second half of this thesis, from "and however good or true such a thing may be in and of itself, must be refrained from unless (or until) it can become edifying to the Church." Because this implies an exercise of power that is necessarily coercive. I'd be much happier if I could ammend Thesis 21 as follows:

21. The primary task of the Church in conflict is to discern that which is edifying to the Church, and to engage in that; likewise, the Church must discern what is unedifying to the Church.

...and leave the question of what to do about the thing discerned (and how to do it) up to someone else. But that seems simply to be avoiding the conflict and ducking the question of power.

So I'm afraid I'm no nearer answering Ginger's questions or Paul's concerns. Perhaps it would be fair to say (and maybe this is a bit of what Peter was getting at) that when we start exercising coercive power, we stop discerning. Discernment as an alternative to coercive power is the edifying alternative to something that can only lead to schism, which I think we're all agreed is the most unedifying thing imaginable. (Schism only tears down; edification only builds up.) Given the choice between schism and edification, the only way to avoid schism is to commit to engaging in discernment, and discernment is both a process and a result. It is a process that edifies the Church in love and the result of discernment is itself edifying.

What Conflict Ecclesiology offers, then, is not a way of resolving conflicts, but a way of continuing to be the Church: through discernment and edification, neither of which is compatible with coersion or violence. Schism is violent. Discernment isn't.

That's probably enough for now!

NH: On Edification and Schism

2007-10-25T15:50:00.000-04:00

Ginger's questions bring up for me questions of my own. The basic meaning of "edify" is "to build up." But how does one measure edification? By increased church attendance? By pledge income or endowments? By how happy and satisfied people are with the music, the preaching, the liturgy, the programs on offer?

Or does one have to look at the quality of the spiritual and moral lives of the members, both individually and as a community? Are there markers of health one can identify? Is it possible to measure "holiness" without succumbing to a "holier-than-thou" attitude?

For my part, edification is about holiness of life, which is a dangerous term, I know, but as U.S. Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart once wrote about pornography, "I know it when I see it." I very rarely describe people as "holy," and when I do, I don't mean some pious, ethereal thing. The holiest people are also the most grounded people I know. And while every community struggles with its own dysfunctions and sinfulness, I have been privileged to glimpse "the beauty of holiness" in many places--including some places that in other respects drive me batty.

So I tend to take a pragmatic approach: Something can appear to edify a local church which would destroy another church, but the test of edification is whether the (God-given) holiness of the thing can withstand the assaults of the Enemy, regardless of the context.

That's a pretty high standard, I know. So perhaps one must allow for a scale of edification. There are those things that may be truly and rightly edifying in one context that absolutely aren't in another (like the ministry of a particular bishop). Then there are those things that are edifying in one context that would cause a stir in another, but which could go either way depending upon how the situation is handled (like the introduction of confession to a priest in a low church parish). And then there are those things that are edifying always and everywhere (like the Eucharist). In each of these circumstances, controversies can (and have) arisen that detract from the edifying power of the thing (such as debates over transubstantiation or communion without baptism) because they distract the participants from the thing itself.

The thing that transforms something in the first class of edification to the second and from the second to the third is reception. Newman's notion of the development of doctrine has itself developed over the years so that there is an increasing ecumenical consensus on the meaning and application of the concept of reception to doctrinal questions across confessional lines. (See, for example, Ecumenical Reception by William G. Rusch [Eerdmans, 2007].) Something can start off as edifying only in one place, but by God's grace may slowly leaven the whole lump of the Church. Some of the reforms of Vatican II appear to have shown this dynamic at work, and according to proponents of women in holy orders, this development, too, will slowly spread throughout the Church, so that those who are currently scandalized by it will eventually see the "signs and wonders" that prove it to be of God and truly edifying to the Church.

So edification is a process, but not a guaranteed result of any action that one claims is "prophetic." The same claim is made about same-sex blessings that has been made for women in holy orders. And the jury is still out in many places. First of all, people have to come to the conclusion that gay sex is not prima facie or a priori sinful. The next step would be to see that at least some same-sex relationships are positively good. From there, one can say that without same-sex blessings, the Church cannot be fully built up in holiness. That's the argument. The problem is that even if this is true, it would belong to the first class of edification and not to the third. And even a convinced liberal would have to admit that it's very easy to deceive oneself. One could be wrong, and something could only appear to be edifying because it makes people happy, but doesn't really make them holy. But the Christian life is about holiness, not happiness. True happiness may not resemble what philosophers or Enlightenment thinkers conceived happiness to be. True happiness may come only from martyrdom. Then again, happiness and holiness are not mutually exclusive, are they? And so the discernment must continue.

I've related my musings to current controversies. But I've also had the example of Corinthians in mind. Some people were scandalized that Christians were eating meat that had been sacrificed to idols. Paul wasn't scandalized; he couldn't have given two hoots where his meal came from, so long as it was cooked to perfection. But he counseled abstention if it would trouble a brother's or sister's faith. He was, in short, in favor of "local option." One had to be prudent about what one did and how one did it. Oftentimes, it was not the thing itself that determined whether it was edifying or not, but how and when it was undertaken. I am not suggesting that in our current conflicts those who are "rocking the boat" (on both sides) should refrain from pushing their agenda, for I recognize that there is a good faith element of conviction and I don't have the confidence to say that counseling restraint wouldn't be tantamount to quenching the Spirit. That's the problem with being a vascillating moderate. But I do think that in this day of easier global communication, "local option" becomes more and more difficult to practice as a principle of discernment, because there will always be those who are looking to be scandalized.

Although I am the author of Theses 20 & 21, I am increasingly uncomfortable with the staticicity of Thesis 21, which does not take into account a scale of edification tied to whether something is capable of being (or even ought to be) received through the whole Church. I do think Thesis 20 is a basically adequate rule of thumb, however, for keeping the question, "What is edifying?" at the center of ecclesial discernment. Thesis 20 does not prejudge anything as edifying or not; it does indicate, however, that if we engage in discernment, we will know the edifying when we see it by paying careful attention to the effects of words and actions on all parts of the Church. If schism results, then I am far less likely to see how an action can be of God, if it is indeed that action (and not the reaction alone) that is the principle cause.

On the other hand, some people will break away no matter how holy a thing is. Holiness is itself a stumbling block, after all, and there needs to be some way of discerning the holy, which is not always (and perhaps hardly ever) self-evident. The lives of the prophets and saints teach us this all too forcefully.

Perhaps in the final analysis edification will be found to be an inadequate category or criterion for discerning what is holy and good in the Church. But I continue to think there must be some discernable connection. The challenge is to figure out how (and whether it is possible) to discern the edifying from the edifying while one is in the midst of conflict. My intuition tells me we will not be left without some way of doing this, but at the same time, any discernment may ultimately be the result of pure grace and have little if anything to do with our own "power" of right judgment.

I'm aware I haven't addressed all of Ginger's questions, but this current post is a long way of saying, "I don't know." I'm afraid I'll be saying that a lot in these conversations, which is why they are so valuable to me.

GW: Questions on edification and schism

2007-10-24T16:50:00.000-04:00

Regarding Thesis 20, is it possible to talk about “edification” as though it means the same to all parties? Or, as with stepping stones and stumbling blocks, can the same words or acts be edifying to one person or group, and anything but edifying for others?

In concrete terms, what do we mean by “the edification of the Church”? What is the measure of whether something is edifying? What is the timeframe for making such a determination, and who gets to decide (or, if you will, discern)?

If any one person or group determines that something is unedifying (or, for that matter, edifying), does this make it so? Under what conditions could the conflict be reframed into something that could be seen as edifying by all parties? Do church communities have the necessary tools to help effect this shift?

PC: On Discernment ... random jottings

2007-10-24T16:21:00.000-04:00

I really appreciated PB's reflection on Discernment, as well as his previous question about what we believe discernment is, and is not.

I especially loved his beginning:

"Discernment sounds rich and chocolaty to me: it has overtones of wisdom and prayer, of slow and considered decision making, of moving forward under the judgement of and in the grace of God." (PB)

As one who is still in the "discernment process" (which is another way of saying that I am in the priestly ordination process -- now a transitional deacon and hoping to be ordained to the priesthood in December), I hear this word, "discernment" and it carries a lot of meaning (and baggage,) for me.

A personal example was when I was applying for church positions and I remember being asked by one person who would be involved with the decision about whether I would be hired (but who was not ordained himself) who asked me about my "discernment process." I spoke about the process so far, and some of the twists and turns of it for me. Then he "tightened the screws a bit" and asked whether my "discernment process" was telling me that I was called to his particular institution for the particular job that he was offering. It seemed to me that his understanding of discernment was that it was an infallible sort of ouiji board or oracle bones that priestly types could consult to tell them what to do. I think he wanted some Godly assurance that I was really feeling called to that job, and he thought that "discernment" was some kind of a theophanic experience.

My understanding of discernment is that it is a process that involves critical reflection for a person within a community, and, as such, there is a great need for "cross ventilation" and "cross pollination" in the discerning community, so that one view does not dominate, and so that a narrow and self-interested result does not happen. I have long wondered about the discernment process of one community that comes up with an answer to a question that may be in radical opposition to another discernment process in another community. (i.e. Diocese of New Hampshire as opposed to the Falls Church...)

Some questions that arise for me around discernment and some of the present conflicts in our church are:

How does the greater (catholic/coroporate) community "discern" which discernment is valid? Or, as my thesis advisor, Michael Battle, would challenge me often, is this a false dichotomy? Is there a way to get to a discernment that takes into consideration these various results of discernment and decision making?

Does "conflict ecclesiology" offer a model that takes seriously the observation that there IS conflict between these various communities, and that there ARE conflicting results of discernment?

and/or, can a Trinitarian or Ecclesiology of Communion offer a model or way through these differences and conflicts?

PB mentions discernment "in the midst of battle" and I would love to hear more about this statement, because I wonder whether the "midst" of battle may not be the place for discernment, but perhaps in the exhausted lull during a break in battle is where discernment can happen ... (Rowan Williams points a bit to this in his book, The Truce of God)

"in the middle of a battle, in the assurance that conflict cannot be controlled or managed, would seem a good starting point"

PB ends his post with the statement that really resonates for me:

While we disagree and fight together we are all members of the same church. When we stop talking, stop disagreeing and fighting, and establish separate constitutional structures, or when we attempt to intrude a different decision-making structure into one that currently exists, then we are being schismatic.

, with the emphasis on keeping talking, keeping 'fighting,' rather than setting up separate "constitutional structures" ... in effect, separate "discussion groups," ... do we have the courage, and the epistemic humility to continue to talk with, fight with, and disagree with one another, but keeping coming together?

PB: Discernment in the dark, probably

2007-10-21T06:14:00.000-04:00

To address my own question:

Discernment sounds rich and chocolaty to me: it has overtones of wisdom and prayer, of slow and considered decision making, of moving forward under the judgement of and in the grace of God.

So it would seem a little churlish to suspect that discernment is an aerosol word, to be sprayed around generously to make things smell better. Its criteria are not transparent and, as Ginger indicates, it can’t be judged on tests of agreement or unity. It seems to have considerable potential to put an acceptable face on the exercise of power (and the comment from sbw is a timely reminder). It seems to me it could be used (I’m not saying any of us would use it this way) as little more than an acceptable way of telling those with whom I disagree: “This is the word of the Lord.”

And yet, discern we must. We must plan for the future under God despite the fact that none of us can control what will happen, and despite the fact that our decision making is necessary because of the plans we and others made previously. We must plan for the future in the best way we can because it is inherent in our God-given human nature.

I suggest discernment requires a religious language which is grounded in real, historical, experienceable human life (and therefore analysed within secular disciplines); which is probabilistic in character – because none of us can know the future; which is scripturally, theologically and spiritually informed; which takes issues of power, authority and regulation as central, acknowledging the uneven distribution of power and the range of motives which drive the use of power; which is ethical and responsible in its judgements; and which is pragmatic (i.e. communal and practical) in its expression.

And in the unlikely event that any of us could attain this standard, and sustain it, the chance of any two people agreeing is inversely proportional to the number of decisions made and to the degree of precision with which they are made.

Perhaps the real task of discernment is to do the best we possibly can now – not because it will help the future, but because it is right for the present. I cannot tell what the consequences of my actions will be. What I can do is to act (and write and speak, so ultimately, think) in ways that are as responsible and as prayerful as possible, now. That won’t make my actions right (a mistake is an action made inappropriate by later information) but it will be the best I can do.

But this would be a personal discipline. The public and corporate setting of discernment is predominant. And discernment in the middle of a battle, in the assurance that conflict cannot be controlled or managed, would seem a good starting point.

Constitutional decision making is predicated on the assumption of disagreement. Constitutions are the formal patterning of the exercise of power in the realisation of an organization (the means by which it sets out and struggles to meet its objectives). The continually coming-into-being church takes the particular form it does in part because of the way previous conflicts were expressed in the patterning of power (and authority) in the church.

Implicit in joining the church (and any organization) is a commitment to abide by the rules in force at the time of joining – and equally implicit is the possibility of contributing to changing those rules. While we disagree and fight together we are all members of the same church. When we stop talking, stop disagreeing and fighting, and establish separate constitutional structures, or when we attempt to intrude a different decision-making structure into one that currently exists, then we are being schismatic.

The church is made up of broken, myopic, partisan, over-confident and over-cautious humans. Perhaps the best (the most and the least) we can do is to discern the word of God together, in agreement and in conflict, probably, and in darkness.

GW: Questions About Discernment Within a Community of Individuals

2007-10-18T13:39:00.000-04:00

Thesis 3 states that "The goal of discernment is not to resolve conflict but to know the will of God for a particular community in a particular place and time." Some practical questions, then, on discerning God's will:

• Is discernment always a communal activity, or is personal discernment also part of the equation? When and under what circumstances?
• Can the will of God for a particular community ever be expressed outside an expression of God’s will for the individual members? That is, can a community as a whole have an understanding of God's will that differs markedly from the understandings of individual community members? Where does this leave the individuals? Where does it leave the collective?
• What happens if personal discernment and community discernment result in conflicting calls? Does the understanding of the community necessarily supercede the understanding of the individual?

Related questions (on related theses):
• Is departure always schism? (Thesis 14)
• Is commitment to a particular church or denomination a desirable or valid goal? (Thesis 18)

PB: Discernment

2007-10-18T05:04:00.001-04:00

Can I ask what discernment means?

I ask because I've occasionally seen it used in American blogs in a way which seems semi-technical or used with a particular context in mind that I'm not getting. I suspect I'm only seeing part of its implications.

PC: Theses 1 & 2

2007-10-17T21:45:00.000-04:00

Ok, here goes. I am putting my toes into these great waters of theological discussion. One disclaimer is that I dislike the fact that my initials (pc) have another meaning (politically correct), so I will do all I can to be not politically correct. Second disclaimer is that I am jumping into swirling waters or, if you like, a moving train of discussion and I apologize if I haven't quite gleaned all of the previous conversation. I'll do my best to catch up.

Here I offer a few thoughts on thesis 1 and 2, which were the real reason that I initially was so intrigued by this project:

1. Conflict is the normal condition of ecclesial life. As such, conflict is the basic context for ecclesial discernment. [Amended 10/12/2007]

2. An ecclesial community reveals what it most truly is (and is not) in periods of conflict.

I believe that conflict is the normal condition of ecclesial life (, and yet....) In seminary, after studying some notions of the Trinity, and also hearing so much about Unity in the church, I really wondered how this ideal of Unity comes about in the midst of the fractured, conflictual church in which we find ourselves. I come at this question not only from theology, but also as I view relationships between people in families, in institutions, on the street, in traffic, etc. My theology on this is decidedly non-systematic, or, as Rowan Williams claimed about his work in "Resurrection," irregular theology. As someone who has taught and coached young people for a long time, I know that in the midst of competition and conflict much good can come about. Creating a cauldron of competition and conflict can refine arguments, can refine "play" (on the field), and even build community (which sounds counter-intuitive, but it does happen). I wonder, however, what the boundaries are with regard to conflict? To me, many churches seem to be full of "conflict avoidance" dynamics, and bringing to light inherent conflict is important and critical. (I think of the line from Jerry McGuire, where Cuba Gooding's character says to Tom Cruise's character something along the lines of, "you think we're arguing, but I think we're finally communicating.") Lord knows we need to get communicating, even if there is, and especially if there is conflict!

I suppose my question about these two theses is what are the bounds of conflict? When does conflict become warfare? What are the bounds of conflict, is it "no holds barred," or what?

my apologies, again, for not being "in" the discussion, and debate so far...

PB: Idea, ideal, idealism

2007-10-11T15:16:00.000-04:00

Nathan wrote,

For my part, I do not believe that the idea of the Church-as-Church is "no more than an idea." By this I mean that I believe the Church-as-Church is a reality we participate in rather than merely an ideal toward which we strive. In fact, I don't think these two alternatives are mutually exclusive--the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church (OHCAC) could be both a reality and an ideal; but to say it is nothing more than an ideal would be to deny its reality and therefore the existential possibility of participation in it. One cannot participate in something that does not exist, after all. On the other hand, to treat the ideal as if it is fully realized is to deny the incomplete, halting, and chageable nature of human participation in the divine.

‘Ideal’ and its cognates are slippery words and pivotal to parts of the theses. I would like to clarify the ways in which we use the term in order to avoid conflict based solely on misunderstanding. (And sorry to be so nit-picking but I could see large pot-holes ahead on any other route.)

The OED has five main meanings for the word ‘ideal’ (and a couple in maths and geometry which I don’t think really relevant). [I’ve added the terms in brackets for shorthand, recognising this is a bit arbitrary.]

1.a.[Platonic] Existing as an idea or archetype; relating to or consisting of ideas (in the Platonic sense)

1.b. [Weberian] ‘ideal type’ a hypothetical construct made up of the salient features or elements of a social phenomenon, or generalized concept, in order to facilitate comparison and classification of what is found in operation.

2. [Perfection] Conceived or regarded as perfect or supremely excellent in its kind; answering to one's highest conception.

3.a. [Of concepts] Of, pertaining or relating to, or of the nature of an idea, mental image, or conception.

3.b. [Realising concepts] Representing or embodying an idea or conception.

4.a. [Notional] Existing only in idea; confined to thought or imagination; imaginary: opposed to real or actual. Hence sometimes, not real or practical; based on an idea or fancy; fancied, visionary.

4.b. [Conceptual] ideal construction (Philos.): a mental conception formed by abstracting properties found in experience and recombining or developing them; the process of forming such a conception.

5. [Ethereal] Philos. Regarding or treating ideas as the only real entities; of the nature of or pertaining to idealism; idealistic.

It seems to me that the statement I believe the Church-as-Church is a reality we participate in is a Platonic concept.

The statement I believe the Church-as-Church … [is more than] merely an ideal uses ‘ideal’ in perfection terms.

The perception of these as alternatives even if they are not mutually exclusive and to say [that] it is nothing more than an ideal would be to deny its reality – speaks in notional terms. In this characterisation ‘reality’ is implicitly designated in object-like terms as opposed to the ethereal terms of disembodied ideas.

* * *

So, rather than launch into a routine of ‘you say it’s real, I say ideal’, I wish to suggest two things:

First, I hold that human beings cannot apprehend anything (including any thing) except through the medium of ideas – and, even if we possibly could, communicating that apprehension inevitably works through ideas (words and non-verbal concepts). We participate in a range of things that are only as real as the practice of our beliefs: nation, justice, economics for example. In this perception ‘ideas’ are just one dimension of experienced reality: inescapable, necessary and not sufficient.

For me the key questions (held in tension) are: what is the relationship between idea and action? Specifically (in a moral/political frame of shared and divergent ideas and action): what are the implications for behaviour from the way we hold, express and pattern our beliefs? And, how do we organize our behaviour in relation to our shared and personal beliefs?

Second: I believe (and it gets hard to know quite which verb is the accurate one) that ecclesiology requires or at least deserves clarity on epistemology. Conflict in churches is often cast in terms of difference of substantive beliefs. Yet it seems to me that there is often also a disguised epistemological conflict: after all the inerrancy of scripture is and expresses an epistemological theory.

NH: The Reasonableness of Commitment, cont.

2007-10-09T13:46:00.000-04:00

Paul's two recent posts (here & here) provide much food for thought, as does Benjamin Comings' comment at the end of my last post. I do not have the wherewithal to address all of the excellent material presented in those three places here, but I will at least try to address a central issue that Paul raises, hoping in future posts to touch again upon the idea of Unconditional Indissoluble Covenantal Commitment, Paul's fascinating application of George Kelly's personal construct theory to ecclesiology, and Benjamin Comings' trenchant observations and criticisms.

To begin, I had written:

I think we need to make clearer distinctions between the Church-as-Denomination (for lack of a better word; e.g., The Episcopal Church, Church of England, or Anglican Communion) and the Church-as-Church (i.e., the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church of the Nicene Creed, which we all are supposed to "believe in.")

To which Paul responded by citing Thesis 8: The church should never be described in idealistic terms, nor apart from concrete historic experience. He then wrote:

I do not think that the Church-as-Church has any historical existence. Except, and importantly, as a legitimating idea for the historical church.

Perhaps the phrase is shorthand for the assertion that each historical church is authentic on other grounds: we share the marks of the church, can show historical continuity back to Christ, and can demonstrate contemporary accordance with the Gospel - therefore, despite the fact that we are disunited, unholy in our practice, limited in scope, and only apostolic in a limited sense, we are still and by definition part of the (abstract / mythical) one, holy, catholic and apostolic church.

The idea of the Church universal is important and influential. That doesn't make it exist in a historical-material form people can apprehend and respond to. [Amendment: the idea is a historical reality, but as no more than an idea.]

For my part, I do not believe that the idea of the Church-as-Church is "no more than an idea." By this I mean that I believe the Church-as-Church is a reality we participate in rather than merely an ideal toward which we strive. In fact, I don't think these two alternatives are mutually exclusive--the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church (OHCAC) could be both a reality and an ideal; but to say it is nothing more than an ideal would be to deny its reality and therefore the existential possibility of participation in it. One cannot participate in something that does not exist, after all. On the other hand, to treat the ideal as if it is fully realized is to deny the incomplete, halting, and chageable nature of human participation in the divine.

Thus, my answer to the question: Does the Church-as-Church exist in a historical-material form people can apprehend and respond to? is to say that if when we gather in our churches we are not participating in the Church, then there's really no such thing as the OHCAC at all, all of our credal affirmations to the contrary notwithstanding.

Perhaps this is just another way of rehashing the philosophical distinction between the universal and the particular. Ecclesiologically speaking, if the particular merely strives toward a mythic ideal, then there is no such thing as Christ's Church, and we should stop worrying about that bothersome High Priestly Prayer in John's gospel, "...that they all may be one..." If, on the other hand, the particular is an imperfect (but true and real) participation in the universal Church, then we have a foundation on which to build (edify)--to build a structure not of our own making, "not made with human hands," but one that draws us ever more deeply into participation in God's own life.

Thesis 8 is thus intended to guard against the conflation of any particular church (e.g., Rome, Constantinople, Canterbury, New Hampshire) with the universal church, but it does not deny the necessity of those particular churches' participation in the universal, without which they would have no claim to being (i.e., participating in) "church" at all.

PB: The Reasonableness of Commitment, contd.

2007-10-06T15:28:00.000-04:00

I wrote earlier:

7. I suggest that the appropriate concept is 'in-and-against'. That is, in committing myself to the Church I merge my identity into the real congregation of which I am part and into my image of the church at large and I simultaneously dissociate myself from certain aspects of the church both locally and more widely.

To which Nathan responded:

But what exactly does "dissociate" mean here? Reject? Or is this a more neutral concept?

What I have in mind primarily is a person's capacity to emerge themselves in something and still retain the perspective of the critical observer.

However I would like to expound a little further on the idea of identity. I rest on George Kelly's personal construct theory in which our identity is the combination of four or five core constructs (on which is strung a web of others) . A construct comprises a positive affirmation, a negative contrast, and the field to which the construct applies.

E.g. I am the kind of Christian I am in that I belong to the Church of England; and I am the kind of Christian I am in that I am not like those other Christians, all happy-clappy or incense-swinging. But the people I am like and the people I am not like all have Christian faith in common - it would be nonsense to apply the term 'Christian' to a bowl of sugar.

Affirmation of identity depends very much on the context: facing an issue of secularisation I may assert myself to be a Christian aligned with all faithful believers; facing a person searching to join a church community I am a Christian in the way we do things in this church, not like those people in a neighbouring church. Identity is thus both for-and-against; commitment is both in-and-against.

In ecclesial conflict I suggest that doctrine often plays a parallel role. We are all Christian because of our shared beliefs and I differentiate myself from Southern Baptists or Russian Orthodox Christians (at least in part) by what I believe in contrast to what I conceive they believe (my preconceptions don't have to be accurate). I am part of the Anglican Communion, but not like those TEC people. Thus what holds us together (belief) is what keeps us apart (beliefs).

Stripped of its particularities it seems to me that conflict in churches is overwhelmingly about the identity of the church - over its core constructs (usually expressed in doctrinal form) and how those are expressed in affiliation with certain groups and differentiation from others and elaborated in styles of worship and assertions of social morality.

The Oxford Movement sought to change the identity of the Church of England, 'unProtestantising' it by aligning it with the Roman Catholic Church (never mind that Rome was sniffy about it) and by differentiating the Church of England from its heritage of complacency (as they saw it) and from Dissent. The Church Association fought to defend the Protestant character of the CofE and to maintain it in complete contrast to Roman Catholicism.

All Christian participation, by choices of affiliation and opposition, by each word and action, shapes the church in one direction or another. Neither faith nor church exist in the ether, nor are they objects (except as the inheritance of all that our predecessors have made) but are continually being made by us: the church is always coming-into-being, faith is the way I make my next step, walking on water, my arms stretched out to Christ, lest I drown. Hence, in uncountable millions of actions and words: the church is what the church does.

And, because this is not the conventional way of describing believing and belonging, try it the other way round: take away all actions (including speech) done by Christians as Christian, and take away any actions attributed to people as Christian, and what is left of faith or church that you could show an interested visitor?

PB: The Reasonableness of Commitment

2007-10-05T18:23:00.000-04:00

(A brief note in answer to one aspect of MM's earlier comments of the same heading.)

Nathan said:

I think we need to make clearer distinctions between the Church-as-Denomination (for lack of a better word; e.g., The Episcopal Church, Church of England, or Anglican Communion) and the Church-as-Church (i.e., the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church of the Nicene Creed, which we all are supposed to "believe in.")

But see Thesis 8: The church should never be described in idealistic terms, nor apart from concrete historic experience.

I do not think that the Church-as-Church has any historical existence. Except, and importantly, as a legitimating idea for the historical church.

Perhaps the phrase is shorthand for the assertion that each historical church is authentic on other grounds: we share the marks of the church, can show historical continuity back to Christ, and can demonstrate contemporary accordance with the Gospel - therefore, despite the fact that we are disunited, unholy in our practice, limited in scope, and only apostolic in a limited sense, we are still and by definition part of the (abstract / mythical) one, holy, catholic and apostolic church.

The idea of the Church universal is important and influential. That doesn't make it exist in a historical-material form people can apprehend and respond to. [Amendment: the idea is a historical reality, but as no more than an idea.]

And I'm afraid I think an Unconditional Indissoluble Covenantal Commitment is in the same class: an important idea but not an historical reality. It may exist in the eye of God but that is untranslatable into my fractured, limited, self-deceiving world.

The longing for unconditional commitment and for the church universal may be real and motivational, but they are longings for mirages.

TH: Conflict and Discipleship

2007-10-05T11:15:00.000-04:00

This is intended primarily as a pointer to the sermon my parish field placement seminarian delivered as his senior sermon at GTS. In it he reflects on the nature of conflict in close quarters, both in his own life and in the lives of the disciples, most particularly Matthew the Tax Gatherer and Simon the Zealot. It strikes me as a good reflection on the nature of conflict within the life of discipleship.

TH: Reworking Thesis One

2007-10-04T17:45:00.000-04:00

Originally a comment on my earlier post, I've been encouraged to raise this to a higher level of visibility.

I'm suggesting a further distinction between context and condition in Thesis 1, perhaps along the lines of:

"1. Conflict is the normal condition of ecclesial life. As such, conflict is a basic condition for ecclesial discernment."

This may be a distinction without a difference, but I'm thinking that condition is situational (even if inescapable in the here and now) and involves the actors themselves, while context is more along the line of the overarching reality. I would like to think that Love is our context, but conflict our condition.

If this were not the case, I fear there would be no eschatological hope for eventual peace in the Kingdom. Perfect love will only be realized in the ultimate, but it is the divine context and ground; conflict is the actual building process.

To use this edifice analogy again, one might say that Love is the design, but conflict a necessary component of the laborious building project -- but once the building is complete, there is no more conflict. The habitation of peace will be ready for our entry.

NH: On Conflict

2007-10-04T17:21:00.000-04:00

I agree with Ginger.

To use another metaphor, conflict is the air we breathe, but it is also polluted.

However, God always works to redeem, to bring good out of a situation despite any evil, intentional or otherwise. That's just God's M.O., demonstrated above all in Christ.

So to stretch the metaphor, God's redemptive power is like the E.P.A. or the Kyoto Accords--it cleans up where we pollute.

This does not mean that the air itself (conflict) is sucked into a vacuum, but that the air is purified (redeemed).

At least that's my take on things.

GW: On Conflict

2007-10-04T16:17:00.000-04:00

I suppose I talk of using conflict to productive ends, not because I think conflict is the only way to move forward, but because part of the human condition is to find oneself often in conflict with another. Were I a hermit, I could find ways to be in conflict with myself. And certainly in a community, I frequently find myself at odds with my neighbor—or she with me. This is the nature of the beast. To be human is to sin.

Within a world that is imperfect, then, where disagreements occur with some regularity, one needs to find ways to manage conflict. That may mean choosing to look away from points of difference; it may mean confronting them head-on; or it could mean something in between. One can choose from among a wide range of responses, some of which may deepen divisions between us, some which may allow us to carry on more or less as usual, and some which might actually bridge the divide that has grown between people or groups.

It is this latter to which I refer in conversations about the productive use of conflict. I am not talking about the intentional inflicting of conflict to produce a certain desired outcome, an end-outweighs-the-means approach, although one could argue that many a rector has prompted spectacular change in just such a way.

Conflict is often painful, and with it always comes the threat of rupture. Conflict can alienate, can drive people away, can cause us to cut ourselves off from those who are different. It can draw the lines of division so deeply that reconciliation is a distant desire. So while conflict can lead to growth, it is not something to be toyed with.

That said, conflict happens. In this sense, I agree with Thesis #1 that conflict is part of the very fabric of the Church. It can shape who we are and what we do as a community. So to look away from conflict, to sweep it under the rug, is not a particularly effective solution. I believe that we, the Church, need to make a concerted effort to recognize conflict and at times even draw it out of the shadows into the light for a better examination—and then we need to teach and model ways of turning it to some sort of redeeming end. That is grace, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise dim view.

Thus there is great sadness for me in the idea of “people voting with their feet,” as one reader advocated in response to a recent post. If we cannot learn to live within and love difference, I believe we will exist in an impoverished Church, where individuals interact only with those of similar opinion and style.

In some ways I think our task as disciples of Christ is to figure out how to play nicely together in this little sandbox of ours that we call Earth: to love one another and pass the pail. That's a trifle simplistic. But we do need to figure out how to coexist with one another, and I'm not certain the best way is always by upping stakes when we're confronted with difficult others. So that leads me back to this idea of learning to use conflict, or at least our responses to it, to edify ourselves, the Church, and the world. In other words, to put it to productive ends.

NH: The Reasonableness of Commitment [Was: Races & Buildings]

2007-10-04T13:12:00.000-04:00

Paul begins:

Nathan says

It is impossible to live with ambiguity unless one thing is unambiguous: our commitment to each other.

and asks,

But Conflict Ecclesiology asserts that everything begins with commitment. Is this a reasonable assertion?

I'm with Ginger on this: this is not a reasonable assertion.

I respond: I'm inclined to agree. I think one of the (many) weaknesses of these theses is that they are trying to make the destination the origin. Ginger is absolutely right that one cannot expect a person to start out with such a high level of commitment to the Church, particularly since as Paul B. points out in 6.(a), there are many levels of "Church." I think we need to make clearer distinctions between the Church-as-Denomination (for lack of a better word; e.g., The Episcopal Church, Church of England, or Anglican Communion) and the Church-as-Church (i.e., the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church of the Nicene Creed, which we all are supposed to "believe in." Let's abbreviate these C-as-D and C-as-C in what follows.). With this in mind, I will try to make a few observations on Paul B.'s writing, which is in red:

1. In a voluntary association commitment may be given but it cannot be demanded of another.

Would it be true to say that the C-as-D is always a "voluntary association" but that the C-as-C is not? For it seems to me that membership in the C-as-C is not entirely voluntary (in that we are "sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ's own forever" as the 1979 US BCP puts it). That is to say, whether it is we who consent to be baptized or another consents on our behalf, once we are baptized, membership is no longer voluntary. One has been incorporated into the Body of Christ, and I'm sorry, that's un-doable. Thus, while entrance into the C-as-C may be somewhat voluntary (depending upon how much you assign to free will and how much you assign to election or grace), membership, strictly speaking, is not.

Now it is certainly the case that one's commitment to that membership is "voluntary," in that it takes a cooperation of the will (voluntas) with grace to effect holiness of life and true discipleship. Thus, while even commitment cannot be demanded, it can be expected as the fruit of voluntary persistence in the C-as-C. How all of this applies, or doesn't apply, to one's membership in a C-as-D will be discussed in a moment. For now, let's skip over Paul's #2 in noncommital silence, and examine his #3:

3. Commitment isn't a single thing: it's a prior decision to preclude certain theoretical options from future considerations and, in doing so, to merge one's identity (to a greater or lesser degree) into that of the other. But time changes things - none of us can know what changes and chances will happen in the person or community to which that commitment has been made. Nor can changes to our and their identity, or the implications, be antecedently predicted.

This is very true. The question here is whether a commitment will be predicated upon any "non-negotiable" conditions. For instance, I know a married couple who are friends with a formerly lesbian couple. I must say "formerly," because although one of the partners still considers herself a lesbian, her partner has "transitioned" to a legal male. Yet they are still together. This led to some musing on the part of the married couple whether divorce would be permissible if one of them transitioned to another sex. The wife was of the opinion that they had married each other on the most foundational ontological level, and that "until we are parted by death" meant just that; so that as long as the other persisted as a human being, regardless of sex, neither would be theologically justified in divorcing. Now I find this absolutely mind-blowing. And yet I think it also gets to the heart of Unconditional Indissoluble Covenantal Commitment (UICC). So my question is: Under what circumstances can UICC be reasonably expected of anyone with regard to any other person or entity?

This brings us back to Paul's #2: The two statements I have pulled out and put together suggest a psychological argument rather than a theological one. To which I reply: quite possibly. For I am the child, grandchild, and great-grandchild of divorce, and I cannot underestimate the psychological impact of this fact on my theologizing. With that in mind, we can now pass on to #4:

4. The desire for such commitment in this context seems to be an attempt to find a conflict-free zone (or, perhaps, a place the storms of conflicts cannot touch) which I suggest is impossible. (Perhaps the idea of the utility of conflict requires this false hope - see separate post.)

I would say instead that the desire for UICC is an attempt to find a zone in which conflict does not threaten to destroy relationship, where it is "safe" to be in conflict. At the same time, it is an attempt not to defuse the power of conflict for good, where conflict can play itself out within relationship because conflict then becomes for the sake of relationship. This is what I mean, in part, by "communion in conflict," which is the mustard seed of Conflict Ecclesiology.

Since conflict also has the power to harm, however, this is obviously where things get dangerous and where some safeguards against abuse must be built into the system. Can one defuse the power of conflict for ill while retaining its power for good? (This conversation is one attempt at finding out whether that is possible.)

Moving right along...

5. The analogy of marriage is inappropriate for the moral reasons that Ginger outlines and also because the commitment of a person to a church is not a close analogue. Commitment to a church is commitment to a community of strangers and therefore (as Benedict Anderson describes) to an imagined community. But the terms in which that community is imagined is not consistent across cultures or even in one locality. Commitment is to a real experienced community and to an abstract idea of community, to its actuality and its ideals, and there is never a complete correlation.

This is brilliant and deserves further careful consideration. So my question is: If one can expect UICC to the C-as-C (therefore excluding schism as an option), can one expect some concrete living into UICC within a C-as-D? In other words, if I'm to be absolutely committed to the Church Catholic, ought I also cultivate the concrete expression of that commitment in terms of persistence and stability within a particular community of faith? If so, what are the grounds (if any) for moving from one C-as-D to another C-as-D? Are there ever any legitimate grounds for one C-as-D to be out of communion with another C-as-D? I have to say that there must be grounds for moving from one C-as-D to another, as this may be the result of following God's call, but that the UICC between two Cs-as-Ds must be imperative if one totally eschews schism. Thus, while UICC cannot be demanded of individuals to denominations, it can be demanded of denominations toward other denominations, because it is through UICC that denominations are incorporated into the C-as-C.

Assuming that made any sense whatsoever, let's move on:

Therefore: 6. (a) Commitment to the Church means a wide range of different things (e.g. commitment to Christ, to my local congregation, to a church as an organization which reinforces social integration, espouses certain moral standards, ...); and (b) there is greater degree of reserve in committing oneself to an imagined community than there is in committing oneself to another person.

Agreed. But with regard to (b), can one expect a greater degree of commitment of a person to a concrete community rooted in an UICC to the C-as-C? This seems to be an issue behind #7:

7. I suggest that the appropriate concept is 'in-and-against'. That is, in committing myself to the Church I merge my identity into the real congregation of which I am part and into my image of the church at large and I simultaneously dissociate myself from certain aspects of the church both locally and more widely.

But what exactly does "dissociate" mean here? Reject? Or is this a more neutral concept?

8. Therefore to the extent that commitment is foundational to ecclesiology (of any sort?) it builds an agonistic element into those foundations.

I don't know that I'd call it agonistic, but I'm not sure I fully understand your conclusions and how you've gotten to them. But I fully concur when you write,

And, again to pick up one of Ginger's observations but to put it in my terms: the community has to enable people to be sufficiently secure to take risks. This is a process: people need the confidence to dance together from hesitantly stepping on the floor through coaching to proficiency and exhibition solos: dance is always a shared activity and sometimes, for whatever reason, people have had enough and leave. Individuals dance, and do so to the degree that the whole dancing community holds them up.

This reminded me of some book on deification or communion that used the metaphor of dance--I only read reveiws of it and haven't read the book, can't remember the title. Have you heard of it? In any event, you're quite right:

There can be no presumption that this will happen automatically, it must be consciously and deliberately worked at and, if so, commitment will have a chance to grow.

If so, how must the theses change to reflect this?

Many thanks to Ginger and to you for excellent, challenging reflections.

TH: Races, Buildings... and Marriage

2007-10-04T13:10:00.000-04:00

I take GW's point on the problems with the marriage analogy. I think we need to take care with the analogy, and cleave to the way in which Ephesians advances it. There the analogy is "husband is to wife as Christ is to Church." It is not "husband is to wife as member X is to member Y." It is quite true that Ephesians clouds the issue by further analogizing "husband is to wife as man is to his own body."

Looking, however, to the pioneer and perfecter, however, we have the mandate "love one another as I have loved you" -- which does analogize the relationship Christ:Church with Member:Member. Here the analogy rests on love rather than conflict.

I think the message to carry from this is that Love is the context and Conflict the condition. And, "If our love were but more faithful, we should take him at his word..."

Tobias Haller

PB: The utility of conflict?

2007-10-04T09:53:00.000-04:00

Tobias used the phrase 'the utility of conflict' and Ginger asked 'how we can use conflict' and I wondered about this concept. It doesn't appear in the theses directly and yet is implicit in them, starting with No.1.

Is there a lightly hidden moral theme:

Is conflict bad, though some good may come of it?
Is conflict good and to encouraged?
Is conflict morally neutral which (as in an evolutionary or ecological frame) merely shapes the way we are?
Is not the moment of creativity and the moment of destruction often the same thing seen from different perspectives?
Do beneficial consequences outweigh or legitimate destructive processes? Do ends outweigh means?
Are the outcomes of conflict (however welcome in themselves) always marked by their origins, carrying in them the seeds of another conflict?

In fact I wonder whether it makes much sense to talk about 'conflict' as a unitary and abstract noun at all. Should we not talk about particular conflicts? Or perhaps we are only talking about the conflict which seems to be tearing TEC and the Anglican Communion apart - in which case I should observe that it looks different from this side of the pond.

And do questions of the 'utility of conflict' in fact invite answers which say much more about the person who answers than about the conflict?

PB: Races and Buildings, contd.

2007-10-04T08:59:00.000-04:00

Nathan says

It is impossible to live with ambiguity unless one thing is unambiguous: our commitment to each other.

and asks,

But Conflict Ecclesiology asserts that everything begins with commitment. Is this a reasonable assertion?

I'm with Ginger on this: this is not a reasonable assertion.

In a voluntary association commitment may be given but it cannot be demanded of another.
The two statements I have pulled out and put together suggest a psychological argument rather than a theological one.
Commitment isn't a single thing: it's a prior decision to preclude certain theoretical options from future considerations and, in doing so, to merge one's identity (to a greater or lesser degree) into that of the other. But time changes things - none of us can know what changes and chances will happen in the person or community to which that commitment has been made. Nor can changes to our and their identity, or the implications, be antecedently predicted.
The desire for such commitment in this context seems to be an attempt to find a conflict-free zone (or, perhaps, a place the storms of conflicts cannot touch) which I suggest is impossible. (Perhaps the idea of the utility of conflict requires this false hope - see separate post.)
The analogy of marriage is inappropriate for the moral reasons that Ginger outlines and also because the commitment of a person to a church is not a close analogue. Commitment to a church is commitment to a community of strangers and therefore (as Benedict Anderson describes) to an imagined community. But the terms in which that community is imagined is not consistent across cultures or even in one locality. Commitment is to a real experienced community and to an abstract idea of community, to its actuality and its ideals, and there is never a complete correlation. Therefore:
(a) Commitment to the Church means a wide range of different things (e.g. commitment to Christ, to my local congregation, to a church as an organization which reinforces social integration, espouses certain moral standards, ...); and (b) there is greater degree of reserve in committing oneself to an imagined community than there is in committing oneself to another person.
I suggest that the appropriate concept is 'in-and-against'. That is, in committing myself to the Church I merge my identity into the real congregation of which I am part and into my image of the church at large and I simultaneously dissociate myself from certain aspects of the church both locally and more widely.
Therefore to the extent that commitment is foundational to ecclesiology (of any sort?) it builds an agonistic element into those foundations.

And, again to pick up one of Ginger's observations but to put it in my terms: the community has to enable people to be sufficiently secure to take risks. This is a process: people need the confidence to dance together from hesitantly stepping on the floor through coaching to proficiency and exhibition solos: dance is always a shared activity and sometimes, for whatever reason, people have had enough and leave. Individuals dance, and do so to the degree that the whole dancing community holds them up.

There can be no presumption that this will happen automatically, it must be consciously and deliberately worked at and, if so, commitment will have a chance to grow.

NH: Theses Critique: On Various Comments & Questions

2007-10-03T15:28:00.000-04:00

I am gratified that the Seminar has gotten some buzz on the blogosphere, and hope that those who have commented and asked questions about it on other blogs will feel free to come on over and join the conversation by commenting frequently. In this post, I would like to address a couple of questions raised about the theses I came across on The Passage (with thanks to Peter Carey, new Member of the Seminar, who linked to it on his blog, Santos Woodcarving Popsicles), and then move on to some comments Paul Bagshaw made before he became a Member that I've been meaning to get to.

For Mike Croghan

Over at The Passage, Mike Croghan asks:

1) What does this mean: "5. Reconciliation of human beings to each other in the church cannot precede reconciliation of the church to God."? Like, how fully reconciled to God does the church need to be before we humans can try reconciling with each other?

Upon reflection, I should not have used such a chronologically linear verb as "precede." Christopher Evans, whom I hope will make his debut as a Member here shortly, has made some observations on my own blog about how the Church is often ill-suited to discernment (and likewise, reconciliation) because the Church is mired in sin. So perhaps it would be better to reformulate Thesis 5 as:

"5. Reconciliation of human beings to each other in the church cannot happen unless the church is also committed to an ongoing reconciliation of the church to God."

[NB: I will use this shade of blue to denote proposals in re-working the theses, to which the other Members must consent or propose their own substitutions. It would be helpful if other Members would adopt the same practice. Comments from readers as to whether the proposed thesis is an improvement over its predecesor are most welcome.]

The point is that reconciliation work has (at least) two dimensions, vertical (Godward) and horizontal (Other-ward), and that an intentional disipline of repentance is part of reconciliation.

Mike also writes,

2) I want to understand more about the meaning of this concept of "edification". "Building up of the church", they say. In what fashion(s)? I wonder if it's the Kingdom, not the church, we should be concerned to edify - and if there's really much of a difference.

Mike may (or may not) find this long exigetical post on edification helpful. There, I wrote:

...[T]he call of the baptized to live ever deeper into what it means to be the Church is irrespective of denominational affiliation, for in Conflict Ecclesiology, denominations have no inherent ecclesial value except as communities whose common life participates in (or fails to participate in) the singular reality of the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church (OHCAC). In other words, there is no Episcopal Church apart from its participation in the OHCAC; it may not be a very exemplary part of the Church, but insofar as it is constituted by people who have been baptized into Christ, it remains a part of the Church. To focus on it as merely a denomination is to deny its higher calling as part of the One Body--a calling it may not be answering very well from time to time or from one parish to another, or even from one member to another, but it has this calling nevertheless, by virtue of our common call to union in the Body. So while we are not required to be in the same denomination, if we in fact find ourselves in the same denomination, our central task as Christians is to edify one another and thereby to build up the Church in its concrete local expression (which, in this case, just happens to be the Episcopal Church)...

...Bottom line and in simple language: We have no excuse for behaving badly toward each other. If I am being unedifying, I erode my own orthodoxy, and if I am unedifying, I am in danger of committing an injustice to one class of people in my pursuit of justice for another class. There simply isn't any escape from being in relationship with each other if we have been baptized into Christ's death and resurrection. We are all called to walk the way of the Cross, which is both Good News and a hard slog (to put it mildly).

This, and other posts on edification may provide helpful background on the history of this key concept in my own thinking over the past year or so. Part of the reason I started the Seminar was so that these theses could begin to leaven the lump, so to speak, by being taken up and applied in ways that would be impossible were I to claim proprietary ownership over them. Thus, my word on the meaning of edification isn't the last word, by any stretch of the imagination.

As for how the Church is to be edified, well, that's the question I hope this Seminar will address more concretely than I have heretofore been able to do.

Also with regard to Mike's comments, I would not conflate the two concepts "Kingdom" and "Church." I rejct the notion that humans can do anything to usher in the Kingdom of God, a) because it is already here, "within us," as Jesus says, and b) because it is God's action, not ours. The Church is not coterminous with the Kingdom, but rather (when it is doing its job) prepares us for service to the Kingdom of God in the world and unto the ages of ages. "Kingdom of God" is a much larger and more mysterious concept than "Church." We get into trouble when we conflate the two.

For Paul Bagshaw (and Peter Carey)

Paul Bagshaw made this proposal in the comments on Tobias Haller's initial post:

I start from a close but not identical position. My opening theses would be:

1) Conflict is the normal condition of ecclesial life.

2) The actions of the church as an organized body, and of its members acting as members, embody and reveal what the church is. (Or: the church is what the church does.)

I propose that we reformulate Thesis 1 as follows:

1. Conflict is the normal condition of ecclesial life. As such, conflict is the basic context for ecclesial discernment.

However, I prefer the second thesis as it is, namely:

2. An ecclesial community reveals what it most truly is (and is not) in periods of conflict.

I would be wary of saying that the church is what the church does, because this strikes me as dangerously reductionistic. In avoiding idealism, we must pay close attention to all the things the church does, but also realize that the church's being and doing are not, in the final analysis, equivalent. This is why I use the term "an ecclesial community," because I have in mind here not the entire Church, but particular instantiations of Church (i.e., denomination, diocese, parish, etc.)

Peter Carey comes at this from another direction in his questioning of Thesis 8 over at The Passage:

I also wondered about #8: "8. The church should never be described in idealistic terms, nor apart from concrete historic experience. If an ecclesiology describes an idyllic community that has never existed, short of the eschaton, it will never exist in the future, and is an unhelpful model of the church."Does this mean that metaphorical language like "Body of Christ" should not be used to describe the church? I think metaphor may have a place in the work for transformation, but perhaps I am misreading this #.

To which I would say that "Body of Christ" is more than a metaphor, and understood in a fuller sense (wounded yet resurrected) tends away from idealization. The Church is more than it does because it is united to Christ's resurrected, ascended, and glorified Body. This is why it is possible to believe that the Church is indefectible while still saying that the Pilgrim Church is sinful and full of stupidity. The Church exists in that proleptic already-not yet state that characterizes Christian life and discipleship as we await the eschaton. Thus, over-emphasizing the union of the Pilgrim Church with the Body of Christ so that such a union renders the Church somehow immune from its woundedness is unhelpful. At the same time, since doing does not equal being, the actions of its members can never fully "embody and reveal what the church is," for that is only fully embodied and made real in the Eucharist in the here-and-now and in Christ's resurrected, ascended, and glorified Body in Heaven. The words attributed to St. Augustine at the presentation of the gifts at the end of the Eucharistic prayer comes to mind: as the Celebrant faces the people holding the consecrated elements, the Celebrant says, "Behold what you are. Become what you behold" (cf. this Homily for the origins in Augustine).

It is in the becoming that we encounter conflict, which is why I maintain that, "2. An ecclesial community reveals what it most truly is (and is not) in periods of conflict."

GW: Races and Buildings—Critique Continued—Should I Stay or Should I Go?

2007-10-03T15:25:00.000-04:00

Thesis 18 states that: "The minimum basic commitment required of a member ofthe Church...is an indissoluble commitment." As Nathan clarifies in his post of 10/1, that "commitment is not based in trust per se, but in commitment to the other come what may."

As a lifelong member of the Episcopal Church, I think that sounds grand. This is my Church. I've seen it in hard times and easier times. I've witnessed conflict in parishes and dioceses, and I know how destructive that can be. I've also been fortunate enough to worship in some spectacularly healthy parishes and to see how conflict can be put to productive ends. So when issues arise, whether in a parish, the Episcopal Church, or the wider Anglican Communion, I feel like I can take an appropriately long view. But how much of that is because I've been in this Church so long? How much, that I have seen my parents model the long view in their own commitment to the Church?

Is it reasonable to expect such an indissoluble commitment from every member as a matter of course, as a minimum basic requirement? Maybe that's the goal. But is it where people start out? I think an awful lot of teaching or modeling has to occur in some cases before a member is ready to live out that kind of commitment. Does this make the person any less a member of the Church in the meantime?

Nor am I convinced that an absolute commitment on the part of members is necessarily healthy, either for the individual or for the whole. As Nathan writes: "This sort of absolute commitment is open...to abuse, as analogies from domestic violence come to mind."

From the standpoint of an individual in an abusive relationship, leaving may be the only and best decision. Making oneself unavailable for further abuse, in this case, is a rational response to repeated assault. Furthermore, choosing to stay in an abusive relationship may hurt not just the victim, but also the abuser, by letting the person off the hook for changing entrenched behaviors.

In an ongoing church-based conflict, an individual whose concerns are not only not being heard, but are continually swatted aside, may well come to a point where he or she says, "Enough!" I'd hope this isn't a first response, that it comes only after long thought and a concerted effort to change the situation. But can I say that in the face of utter intractability, this isn't a rational response? No.

And if that person chooses to stay, can I say the Church is necessarily better off? Not if the Church or its members continue to talk over or around that person's concerns. It is not our right to say: "You must stay," without then addressing in substantive ways the issues that have threatened to cause such a breach.

Furthermore, leaving the Episcopal Church is not the same thing as leaving, say, the Christian tradition. True, if one is not in right relation to one's neighbors, then one is not especially near Christ. But there may be nuanced degrees of rupture here. One can leave and still be loving. Whether that actually happens is a different discussion. Staying, one can be a quiet witness, a force of strength, commitment, and hope. But not everyone is called to be a martyr, nor should they be.

NH: Races and Buildings--Theses Critique Continued

2007-10-01T17:01:00.000-04:00

Ginger's point about the need for security in the midst of discomfort gets right at the heart of theses 17 & 18. It is impossible to live with ambiguity unless one thing is unambiguous: our commitment to each other.

Of course, the question must be asked: On what is our commitment ultimately based? Conflict Ecclesiology points toward God's covenants with humanity, all of which are unbreakable. When we understand that our own commitment must mirror God's commitment to us, we have a basis for communion even in the midst of conflict. God's commitment to the Church is through the gift of the Son, Jesus Christ, who is our "cornerstone."

I am working on a post for my personal blog that argues that commitment is not based in trust per se, but in commitment to the other come what may. This sort of absolute commitment is open, however, to abuse, as analogies from domestic violence come to mind. If I cannot trust the one with whom I am in relationship, can I really be committed to him or her?

Applied to the Church, infidelity akin to adultery or idolatry is a perennial problem among Church members. We have every reason not to trust each other. But Conflict Ecclesiology asserts that everything begins with commitment. Is this a reasonable assertion?

It is my hope that as we continue this conversation, the Members will feel free to propose alternative or additional theses that will strengthen the weaknesses in this approach.

NH: Apolitical Ecclesiology?

2007-10-01T16:42:00.000-04:00

Paul Bagshaw raises some important questions:

Can there be an ecclesiology which is not inherently and explicitly political: justifying the status quo? legitimating changes already in place? addressing the divisive issues of the day from a partisan perspective? setting a 'blueprint' for a future ordering of the church? And would there be any value or interest in ecclesiology that was apolitical?

My response is that an ecclesiology that merely justifies the status quo or legitmates changes already in place does not deserve to be called an ecclesiology. At the same time, all ecclesiology is "political" insofar as human beings are "political animals" (as Aristotle so aptly puts it in his Politics).

Further, theses 8 and 9 should be understood as eschewing "blueprint" ecclesiologies. (In this regard, Conflict Ecclesiology follows the thought of Nicholas M. Healy's Church, World and the Christian Life, wherein Healy makes a compelling argument against ecclesiology in the ideal or prescriptive mode.) Ecclesiology must first be descriptive of the Church as it is on earth, and so notions of the "visible" and "invisible" Church, even if true, are essentially unhelpful, since it is the "visible" and visibly broken Church that Christians inhabit, and into which all Christians are incorporated through baptism.

Thus, while Conflict Ecclesiology is not apolitical, it can have a claim to be nonpartisan, in that its concern is not with pushing the particular agenda of any party, but with maintaining unity in the midst of the inevitably political nature of conflict.

I suppose, however, that Conflict Ecclesiology is open to the charge of being biased for the status quo if one leaves thesis 21 uncriticized. I would therefore be open to a revision of that thesis, which may in turn impact the formulation of the other theses or their nuancing through the addition of new ones.

GW: Races and Buildings—Initial Thoughts

2007-10-01T15:39:00.000-04:00

In his post on September 26, Tobias wrote: "This also relates to the role of divine discomfort, and the tragedy that when people come to be at ease in Zion they also tend to become oblivious to God. The church is not only watered with the blood of the martyrs, but nourished with their discomfort." I think this gets at one part of the role of conflict in the church—how we can use conflict to keep people and the church growing toward God. But I think an underlying idea is that while people may indeed need to be uncomfortable (in the sense of being un-self-satisfied and always searching to hear more clearly the will of God), the Church also needs to work to help its members achieve a certain level of comfort within that discomfort—to become less afraid of conflict, to see it not as divisive but as something that in the end helps forge a stronger community. And I would suggest that the ways this is playing out in current debates are not leading people toward this much-needed sense of security. Those who threaten to leave the church over one issue or another are often expressing their fear that one side—their own—will lose and another will win. Until our behaviors in conflict cease to reflect a winner-take-all mentality, it will be very hard for conflict actually to edify the Church.

PB: Apolitical Ecclesiology?

2007-09-30T02:33:00.000-04:00

(To clarify some starting points): Can there be an ecclesiology which is not inherently and explicitly political: justifying the status quo? legitimating changes already in place? addressing the divisive issues of the day from a partisan perspective? setting a 'blueprint' for a future ordering of the church? And would there be any value or interest in ecclesiology that was apolitical?

TH: Races and Buildings - Initial Thoughts

2007-09-26T15:32:00.000-04:00

I am in general agreement with the thinking behind these theses. One would have to be wearing a very deeply tinted rose-colored hermeneutic not to see conflict as a major element in the emergence of Christianity, not only in distinction from the various parties in the Judaism of the first century, but also in its own emergence and development ever since. Not to become too Hegelian about it, but the history of the church is marked by conflict and resolve in cycles, and very few things remain completely unchanged from the beginning.

As to the utility of conflict, I am reminded of a passage from CS Lewis, in which he commented that if you want to know whether you have rats in the basement, you don’t stomp about on your way to the basement door, but rather come in quietly and switch the lights on suddenly. Conflict and crisis are to a very large extent the light switch for discernment as to what is really going on.

This also relates to the role of divine discomfort, and the tragedy that when people come to be at ease in Zion they also tend to become oblivious to God. The church is not only watered with the blood of the martyrs, but nourished with their discomfort. Thus, although Saint Paul used the language of cooperation, he also used the language of pugnacious conflict — of the runner’s race, or the boxer’s contest. Only the winner gains the crown, but all participants in the divine agon benefit from the exercise. This is the point of an ascetic church — a church not of static membership, but of emerging conversio of the members — a church of praxis and action. So I would emphasize that Love is an action as well as an essence — and that even the heart of the Trinity is defined by relationship at least as much as by essence.

This is, perhaps also why Paul said that it was through the existence of parties and their conflicts that the truth would be revealed — the truth of not only who is genuine, but what is genuine. Peace, either when there is no peace, or merely for its own sake, is, then, not the point. Real peace, as has often been observed, is not the mere absence of conflict. True peace-making and reconciliation do not simply call an end to a conflict, but produce a new synthesis. The church is a pilgrim church, which has many resting places on its journey, in most respects more like the wandering people of God who pitched their tent where God chose, and took it up to move on — rather than those who later built a permanent temple, and soon fell to taking their ease, since God was safely nailed down in a box. In that sense, we need to be on our guard (lest we fall into ecclesial perfectionism) that the “edification” or upbuilding is of the members themselves — they are the temple of the Spirit’s presence. When we transfer the locus of that holiness to some secondary structure — whether a physical structure, or body of canons, or dare I say a written covenant — we fall into the danger of that easy idolatry; coming to treat it as the locus of God’s presence, instead of each other.

It has been said that idolatry consists of treating God like a thing and a thing like God. The church, properly speaking, then, is not a thing. It is us, a living temple. And living things change, and grow.

Tobias Haller BSG

NH: An Invitation to Critique and Revise these Theses

2007-09-18T13:36:00.000-04:00

After reviewing the twenty-one theses of Conflict Ecclesiology listed to the right, how would you revise them so that they are more theologically adequate to the tasks of ecclesiology? (Corollary to this is the question: What are the tasks of ecclesiology?)

NH: Group Norms for The Seminar on Conflict Ecclesiology

2007-09-17T12:00:00.000-04:00

Group Norms for The Seminar on Conflict Ecclesiology
Nathan Humphrey
17 September 2007

The following norms governing format and membership are subject to ratification by the Members of the Seminar and may be revised by mutual agreement at any time.

I. Seminar Format

Members of the Seminar are not required to subscribe to the theses, but accept them as a starting point for conversation. The theses themselves are subject to critique and revision.

Conversations should begin with straightforward questions, without the questioner's opinons being interjected. The questioner will have an opportunity to reflect on any replies.

Replies should be straightforward and stick to the question. If other questions are raised in the course of the reply, they should become part of the conversation only if they don't take the conversation off on a tangent. Otherwise, the Member should post a new opening question (with a new label in the correct format; see below), again reserving expression of opinion until others have had a chance to reply.

Members should not use the comments section of the blog. Members/authors should post, with the comments being reserved for everyone else. Members may use the comments section to reply specifically to a comment, but if the reply to that comment is more than a paragraph or two, it should be posted using the format below.

The basic format for the blog, therefore, is simple:

All post titles should include the Member's initials, followed by a colon and whatever title the Member wishes to give the post. This way, it is easier to identify at a glance the author (though this is also indicated at the end of the post automatically in Blogger).

A1. Member1 (M1) posts question X (without stating own opinion), putting a label in the labels box so that it is its own thread, using this format: "2007/09/19 Conversation on TOPIC"; in this way, the conversation threads will be listed chronologically in the sidebar.
A2. Member2 (M2) posts a response to X, labelling it with the original post's label.
A3. Other Member(s) post responses to X, also labeling it with the same label.
A4. M1 posts a conversational reflection on the responses, perhaps proposing some concrete action (revising the theses, e.g.).
A5. The other Member(s) continue the conversation until it runs out of steam.

B1. M2 posts question Y (without stating own opinion), putting a label on it so that it is its own thread, following the format above.
B2. M1 posts a response..
B3. Rinse, repeat...

Multiple conversations can take place at the same time using the label system above. One should feel free to start a new conversation even while continuing a previous one.

Members should not cross-post to their own blogs in response to questions on the Seminar; they may, however, link to their own or others' blogs in the course of a reply. Replies to Seminar questions should thus maintain the above format.

II. Seminar Members

Among the Members of the Seminar, there will be:

1. Identity transparency. We will know who the others are "in real life." We will allow ourselves to be known and vulnerable within the limits of normal social interaction.
2. Appropriate boundaries. We will not engage in "TMI."
3. Confidentiality. We will respect the boundaries of Seminar members and hold in confidence anything that the Member himself or herself does not make public on the blog.
4. Mutual accountability. We will hold each other responsible for maintaining these norms.

New Members of the Seminar may be recruited or accepted by inquiry upon the consensus of the other Members.

Prospective Members who are recruited by current Members should be introduced by the recruiting Member to the others by e-mail, either by writing something about why s/he thinks the prospective Member would be a good addition to the Seminar or by inviting the prospective Member to do so on his or her own behalf.

Prospective Members by inquiry should introduce themselves to the other Members by e-mail with a brief description of who they are and how they would contribute to the Seminar. They will be sent these norms before being asked to introduce themselves.

When a new Member joins, that Member should be informed of anything regarding the norms above (particularly identity transparency). To this end, it may be helpful to have a standard introduction, the length of which may be determined by each Member, that may be e-mailed to new Members along with these norms once they have joined the Seminar.