7/31/12

Faith and Its Opposite



Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (June 24, 2012)

Many times in our lives we face the unknown, the uncertainty of the future or of an outcome we cannot see: a diagnosis of disease, perhaps, or an impending operation; the loss of a job or the tragic loss of a loved one. During moments like these we are told to hold onto our faith in God: that God is with us, and that God will be our solid rock to stand on. These are good sentiments, of course, and are usually said to us by friends and loved ones with the best of intentions. And yet it is during these times that we, like Job, have difficulty finding comfort in our faith. Instead what we experience is doubt and uncertainty. Perhaps we even become angry with God, questioning, “Why?”

It is times like these, when I find myself struggling with the human condition, particularly in a pastoral situation where I am expected to have just the right words to say at just the right moment, that I take great comfort in something that Richard Holloway, the former Bishop of Edinburgh (Episcopal Church of Scotland), once said: “The opposite of faith is not doubt, it is certainty.”

I realize that this might seem counterintuitive on first hearing. It’s not typically what one hears from a pulpit, especially here in prosperous America, where many evangelical peddlers of popular religion will tell you the very opposite, i.e., that faith is certainty, and that doubt is the enemy – the very antithesis of faith. There are many churches on the American landscape that would be happy to tell you exactly what you should believe about any point of Christian doctrine or on any pressing social issue. They might even tell you how to vote, and do so with the utmost certainty that God is on the side of a particular candidate for public office or on the side of a particular political party. As much as we might think that we don’t like it when someone else tells us what to believe or how to vote, the paradox is that these are the very churches in America that are experiencing booming success.

And still Bishop Holloway’s statement bears repeating: The opposite of faith is not doubt, it is certainty.

Isn’t this what we learn from today’s lessons from Scripture? That faith is not a system of ready-made answers or a list of comforting sentiments that we pull out when we need them? That faith, while not to be confused with doubt and uncertainty, nonetheless must still exist in tension with doubt and uncertainty else it would not be faith?

Consider our passage from Job. You remember Job. He served God his entire life. He was faithful, stalwart, never failing in any of his duties or obligations to God as a master, husband, or father. He was greatly blessed by God, with lands, flocks, herds and sons. His righteousness is so noteworthy that even the angels in heaven take notice, including the adversary, Satan. As the story unfolds in the Book of Job, God asks Satan his opinion on Job. Satan answers that Job is pious only because God has put a “wall around him” to protect his favorite servant. However, if God were to allow Job to be afflicted, then he would surely curse God. God then gives Satan permission to test Job’s righteousness by afflicting him with curses. The story of Job is especially intriguing in that, while the reader knows the reason for his afflictions, Job himself is never made privy to “what’s going on behind the scenes.”

Tragedy falls upon Job. All of Job’s possessions are taken away or destroyed: 500 yoke of oxen and 500 donkeys are carried off by Sabeans; 7,000 sheep are burned up by “the fire of God which fell from the sky”; 3,000 camels are stolen by the Chaldeans; his house is destroyed by a mighty wind, killing off Job’s offspring. At this point Job shaves his head, tears his clothes, and says, “Naked I came out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return: the Lord has given, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” After all this, Job still does not curse God. Yet even then, his tribulations are not over. Job is then afflicted with dreadful boils. He is reduced to scraping his skin with broken pottery. His own wife prompts him to “curse God, and die.” But Job answers, “Shall we receive good from God and shall not receive evil?”

These are statements of a man of faith, and YET, if we had only the above statements to go on we might be tempted to equate faith with certainty. But as we see later on, Job was anything but certain. He struggled with his faith, he struggled through his faith. The messiness of doubt and uncertainty were very much a part of his faith.

Three of his friends come to console him. After seven days of sitting with him in silence, Job finally breaks his silence by cursing the day he was born. Each of his friends then take it in turns to convince Job that he must have sinned grievously before God, else he would not have been cursed. They exhort him to repent and be restored. But Job knows that he was blameless; he becomes angry with his friends, he becomes angry with God. He demands that God give him an answer.

When God finally does reveal himself to Job, he does not provide the answer that Job demands. Instead, God poses a series of rhetorical questions to Job, (questions that we all must face):

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
Tell me, if you have understanding.
Who determined its measurements-- surely you know!
Or who stretched the line upon it?
On what were its bases sunk,
or who laid its cornerstone
when the morning stars sang together
and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?”

Essentially God asks, “Who do you think you are?” Even after God reveals his glory to him, Job is not given answers, but rather he is left with mystery. He is left to ponder the majesty of God. His questions remain unanswered and will remain unanswered. But in the “mystery” he discovers something about himself in relation to God, something that only faith can reveal: Job experiences his utter dependence upon his Creator.

Again, it bears repeating: The opposite of faith is not doubt, it is certainty.

Sometimes there are no answers, at least ones that we are privy to. And sometimes the questions, or our struggles with the questions, are more important than any answer that we can come up with, because, in the human realm, all answers are merely preliminary; all “truths” merely provisional. 

The story in our Gospel passage also confronts us with a question, one that the disciples are left with to ponder: Who is this Jesus?

The scene is a familiar one. Jesus is asleep in the stern of the boat while his disciples, fearing for their lives, struggle to maintain control of their tiny vessel during a ferocious storm. As the boat is being tossed by the waves and begins to take on water, they finally wake Jesus and say to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” Jesus then rebukes the winds and the waves: “Peace! Be still!” And a dead calm comes over the sea. “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” It is at this point that we see the question of faith. The disciples are filled with awe – confronted with mystery – “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

The Church answers this question quite eloquently in the Creeds. For example, the Nicene Creed confesses “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten not made, of one Being with the Father.” But what does any of this really mean? These statements, as precise, as eloquent, as grounded as they are in the New Testament witness and in the faith experience of generations of generations Christians, are merely approximations of what we must ultimately assign to mystery. If the Christian faith could be reduced to the mere assent to a set of propositions, however eloquent, then what have we to do with faith? What happens when those eloquent propositions fail to answer the questions that often confront us? Why did my child die? Why do I have cancer? Why did I lose my job? What is the purpose of living?

Our “beliefs” (as opposed to our faith) are only propositions. They are not the objects of faith. We are not saved by doctrine or creeds or even the liturgy. Rather they are, at best, but witnesses to the object of our faith, pointing us to him – to Jesus Christ. “Who is this Jesus?” That is the ultimate question, which only faith can discover as it struggles to experience him, as the disciples did on that fateful day on the boat.

So we are left with these two questions: “Who am I? Who is Jesus?”  These are the questions of faith. They challenge us to think big, to think beyond ourselves. They also challenge us to examine our innermost selves, to involve God. “Who am I?” and “Who is Jesus?” Such questions are life- and faith-changing. Look at Job. Look at the disciples. They were each and all forever changed, forever clarified, by these questions.

7/18/12

Clarity, Full Disclosure, and A Way Forward: Standing In the Wake of General Convention & the Approval of Same-Sex Blessings


The following is a summary of an address given on Sunday, July 15, 2012, by the Rev. Daniel K. Dunlap, Rector of the Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd in Tomball, TX. The intention of the address was to clarify the actions of General Convention and to pave a way forward in mission as a parish in the Diocese of Texas of The Episcopal Church. 

Last week the 77th General Convention of The Episcopal Church met in Indianapolis. General Convention is the legislative body that gathers every three years to consider the church’s common mission, to share its common concerns, and to order its common life. As you can imagine in a church as theologically and ideologically diverse as The Episcopal Church, it can sometimes be a contentious gathering, producing plenty of fodder for reporters, critics, and even casual observers to feast on. This year proved to be no exception with the approval of I Will Bless You and You Will Be A Blessing – a provisional rite for same-sex blessings. Many national news outlets reported that The Episcopal Church was the first major Christian body in the USA to adopt such a rite.

No doubt many of you are asking, why us? Why must we be the first? The answer may be as simple as the kind of church we are. We are church that invites a wide diversity of belief and practice; a church that does not have a litmus test for membership; a church that unites around the historic creeds, yet affords room for each member to form their own conscience. Perhaps more importantly, we are a church that has a reputation of being open to the disenfranchised of our society. It might also have something to do with our size. We may be oldest of our nation’s denominations, but we are also, paradoxically, one of the smallest. On a local level, it is easier to hear the voices of the disenfranchised in smaller, family-sized parishes than larger ones; and, like it or not, we are a denomination of small, family-sized parishes.

Yet despite being the “first” major church to approve such a rite, a good case could be made that the actions of General Convention did not really clarify or achieve the much sought after consensus on issues of sexuality that we have been seeking for decades. Moreover, it doesn’t help matters when the actions of General Convention have been intentionally misreported and misrepresented by those who should know better.

So in the interest of clarity and of full disclosure (i.e. what the reporters won't report), let me attempt to outline for you what hasn’t changed in The Episcopal Church, so that perhaps we can better understand and deal with those things that have.


1. General Convention did not change the theology of the Book of Common Prayer.

The same-sex blessing liturgy approved last week does not add to or amend the Book of Common Prayer, nor does it alter the theology contained therein. Holy matrimony remains a civil and sacramental union between one man and one woman. Rather, what General Convention approved was a provisional rite. As I understand things, a provisional rite is intended for a specific pastoral need or concern, in this case a pastoral provision for gay and lesbian couples living in committed life-long relationships. Because it is a provisional rite it needs only a simple majority vote from both houses of General Convention. (In contrast, a “trial liturgy” requires a super-majority since it represents a potential change to the doctrine and worship of the church).


2. General Convention did not approve or adopt a rite for same-sex marriage.

What was approved last week was a blessing rite, not a rite of matrimony. The name of the rite -- I Will Bless You and You Will Be A Blessing -- is intended to convey this intent. Granted, this distinction may be confusing, and the fact that it will be used in those states where same-sex marriage or civil unions are legally sanctioned does not help to clarify our church’s position. But let’s not forget that The Episcopal Church is a sacramental church. We bless many things, some of greater and some of lesser importance. Many gay and lesbian couples wish to have their life-long relationships blessed within the context of their local worshiping communities, and General Convention has responded to this desire.

3. General Convention did not change what has been the practice of The Episcopal Church for quite some time.

Back in 2003, the 74th General Convention declared that “local faith communities are operating within the bounds of our common life as they explore and experience liturgies celebrating and blessing same-sex unions.” So-called “local option,” whereby bishops grant special permission to perform same-sex blessings in their own dioceses, has been in force for years. The new rite serves only to bring accountability to this situation. Otherwise local option is still in effect as General Convention did not grant blanket permission. Bishops still govern their own dioceses, and explicit permission is still needed to perform same-sex blessings. The House of Bishops even added a conscience clause to ensure that no clergy would ever be compelled to participate in same-sex blessings. So, in reality, apart from the provision of a uniform rite, there has been no substantial change in practice from what has been going on for quite some time in The Episcopal Church. 



Where do we go from here?

It is natural at this point to ask how the actions of General Convention affect our parish. Where does our diocese stand? What about our bishops? Where do we stand as a parish? A look at our context and circumstances should help clarify where we are as a parish and how we will move forward from here.

OUR STATE (Texas): 


We live in a state that does not recognize either same-sex marriage or same-sex civil unions. It is not even possible for gay and lesbian couples married in other states to secure a divorce in Texas. Barring an amendment to the U.S. Constitution, I do not see this situation changing any time soon, either in Texas or most other states of the Union. Ironically, this means that the greatest obstacle facing those who support same-sex marriage in The Episcopal Church is not what remains of the stubborn traditionalist lobby in the church, but rather the distance left in the uphill, state-by-state, battle for civil sanction and recognition.

OUR DIOCESE: 


The Diocese of Texas is as diverse as the church at large, but in the balance it is generally more conservative with most of its parishes and clergy continuing to hold to a traditional view of marriage. However, a significant and probably growing number of clergy, laity, and parishes are in favor of some kind of pastoral provision for gay and lesbian members, be it a blessing ceremony for same-sex couples or civil and sacramental recognition of same-sex marriage. This means, of course, that we are compelled to find a way forward together as conservatives and liberals, traditionalists and progressives.

OUR BISHOPS:

Both Bishops Doyle and Harrison were among the 41 bishops who voted against the provisional rite when it came before the House of Bishops. Bishop Doyle has also gone on record as opposing any change to the Prayer Book’s theology and definition of marriage. However, he is committed to working both with traditionalists and progressives. Last May, in full expectation of General Convention’s approval of the new rite, Bishop Doyle unveiled a plan to work with those parishes who might wish to use it. Initially, only two churches (St. Stephen’s, Houston and St. David’s, Austin) will be given permission, followed by other parishes at a later date. In the meantime Bishop Doyle has assured the clergy that no one would ever be compelled to participate in same-sex ceremonies and indicated that rectors and parishes were free to establish their own local policies.

YOUR RECTOR (yours truly): 


Last week, in the wake of General Convention’s decision to approve the provisional rite, I outlined to the vestry the following position:

(1) In agreement with the Book of Common Prayer, I affirm holy matrimony as a union, both civil and sacramental, between one man and one woman.

To clarify, my position is not so much about what I am against as it is about what I am for. At this point in my life and ministry, I am not comfortable to go beyond the limits of what the church has taught for the last two thousand years. I believe that marriage between one man and one woman is unique. It is the very metaphor used in the New Testament to describe the relationship between Christ and the Church, and thus is sacramental. Unlike same-sex unions, it is also potentially generative, and thus the only possible context in which children can live together with both natural parents as a family.

(2) As things stand now, I cannot take part in any same-sex blessing ceremony nor will I seek permission for Good Shepherd to conduct same-sex blessings.

In the wider discussion within the church, there is simply not enough theological clarity or cogency in these matters to justify in my mind any attempt to navigate our parish in any new direction, particularly since the official doctrine of the church remains as it was before the approval of the new rite. Therefore, not wishing to bring any more confusion to our context, I simply cannot participate in any blessing ceremony that might affirm or imply in the minds of many that the union between two same-sex people is equivalent or analogous to holy matrimony.

(3) I will not turn anyone away from membership or deny pastoral care to any person who desires to worship/unite with our parish. We will continue to welcome all to Christ’s table.

For me this last statement is crucial. To understand this point is to understand the heart of your rector. It is not my practice to turn away from pastoral care any person who desires or needs it, be they straight, gay, or transgendered. We will continue to be a parish that practices radical hospitality. For me, this issue is not about sex or sexual identity. I have ministered to many homosexuals during the course of my ministry, and, accordingly, my views have evolved over the years. I gave up on the notion long ago that sexual orientation is something that a person necessarily “chooses” or that homosexuality is something that can be “cured.” In short, I do not believe that homosexual orientation is intrinsically evil. I even support the state recognition of civil unions for same-sex couples. So while there are many ministers out there who are willing to condemn a person for their sexual orientation, let me be crystal clear: I am not one of them.

That being said, I do believe that the traditional family is the ideal for a healthy society. However, please do not mistake this as a naïve suggestion that the natural family is immune to dysfunction and/or disintegration, or that non-traditional families (of whatever configuration) are not a blessing to our society. We are all keenly aware that traditional families often fail, and we have all experienced, to one degree or another, the deleterious effects of divorce and broken homes on society. We also know that where the traditional family might fail, the non-traditional family can be a place of redemption, grace and new beginnings, and thus, in these ways, are just as sacramental and worthy of celebration as the traditional family. Indeed, let us never forget that the New Testament employs “adoption” as one of its primary metaphors for salvation.

Finally, let me just say that, despite our controversies and the criticisms we receive from the rest of the Christian world, I am truly thankful to be a priest in The Episcopal Church. Granted, these issues are difficult to process, difficult to talk about, difficult to resolve. As a church we have been talking about matters of human sexuality for decades, and full consensus still seems beyond our reach. Yet I believe that God has uniquely called our church, both conservatives and liberals, to continue this conversation and to reach the very consensus that for the time being seems to elude us.