CONTENDING WITH ANGLICAN REALIGNMENT

by Mark Harris

For a very brief period of time -- less than 160 years -- Episcopalians have been able to point to the shadow of something almost solid that we called the Anglican Communion, and in which we took comfort. But it was hard to define the nature of this Anglican Communion, and indeed every time there was an effort to define it by ostensive definition we turned from the shadow only to find the thing itself was less solid than we thought, and was itself disturbingly ephemeral.

Still, we understood ourselves to be part of a worldwide body of Christians, much as Roman Catholics and the Orthodox were, but a reformed body, with all the potential evangelical robustness of the churches of the distinctly modern world. We felt we shared in the essence of the ancient and undivided faith, and we witnessed that by considering ourselves a modern catholic body molded specifically out of the nation-state environment of modernity in a way that would make us both transnational and yet national, global and local.

Naught for our Comfort: The End of Colonial Anglicanism The comfort of believing our task to be the spread and growth of Anglican churches with a common ecclesial culture -- colonialism in its truest sense -- has been replaced by the reality of an autonomy process in which each new gathering of Anglicans has its own distinctiveness, its own culture. A single culture for a single worldwide Anglican Communion (which only existed as a hope) has become the reality of a plurality of Anglican cultures in a plethora of Anglican churches.

Events have overtaken the comfortable sensibilities of colonial Anglicanism. By colonial, I infer not only the politics of master and slave, parent and child, civilized and primitive, applied to church life, but also the biological notion of a colony, a culture, which transposed to a new environment, also takes hold.

In colonial Anglican thinking, one could suppose that the relationships among the churches were based on the inheritance of theological understandings from parent churches and such quarrels as existed were the products of exhaustion or excitement of older churches and maturation or testing by younger churches. Nothing prepared us for what would happen when the Anglican line of churches produced profoundly different sorts of churches -- when the biology of cultures morphed, when the politics of tradition were breached.

The comfort in believing the Anglican Communion to be a substantial reality in a relatively secure universe has been replaced by the discomfort of a more fractured world and a shadow of a substance. The comfort of thinking the Anglican Communion is a modern answer to the question of how as a church to be catholic-minded and still national (in its several national contexts) has dissipated. The comfort in believing the Anglican Communion to be a substantial reality in a relatively secure universe has been replaced by the discomfort of a more fractured world and a shadow of a substance.

But here we have it, an Episcopal Church in the United States (ECUSA) that makes decisions and understands its life in one way, and some Anglican churches elsewhere that see things quite differently with decision-making done in quite different ways. And modern communications and travel make it possible to make new alliances that cross all church and culture boundaries.

Matters truly get complex. Unity on the basis of a "faith once delivered" is no longer possible, if it ever was. The carriers and receivers of the faith, both within and without particular cultures, have differently understood Anglican sensibilities about just how to be Christian in the world.

The pilgrimage of faith we are all on is not about sound bites and news flashes: it is about the end of simple answers to questions in a complex world.

Much of the recent media analysis and much of the hand wringing within the Episcopal Church and the other churches of the Anglican Communion suppose the crisis in the Anglican Communion is a product of specific decisions made by this or that church community. It is "all the result" of ordaining women, or giving up the ancient prayer book, or blessing gay and lesbian people, or ordaining a gay bishop. This is how the front (or more often the back) page story is written in the secular press. If only, some suggest, we were (check as many as apply) more tolerant, more forceful, more faithful, more biblically based, more forgiving, more demanding, more self critical, more exact about what makes a church an Anglican church -- then we would not be in this mess.

We are in the church mess of our times because national churches, denominations and world church structures cannot stand solid in a world where the notion of a single overarching narrative is no longer considered either relevant or possible. But of course the facile analysis of the 15-second sound bite can not bear to look into the pit that constitutes the end of modernity. If it could, it would not lay the blame for the current Anglican disarray on this or that particular unraveling moment or event. We are in the church mess of our times because national churches, denominations and world church structures cannot stand solid in a world where the notion of a single overarching narrative is no longer considered either relevant or possible.

If being Anglican was supposed to signal a unity across, or even within, cultures and society, that signal is now becoming dim. Being part of the Anglican Communion will either mean something else beside unity in action, culture and norms, or it will wither and die. Neither Wippell's, the ecclesiastical clothiers of choice, nor the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, the liturgical touchstone of choice, will hold the Communion together.

The So-Called "Instruments of Unity" The desire to return to a more settled order, in which churches are brought into some semblance of unity, gave rise to the so-called instruments of unity in the Anglican Communion (the four instruments are the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lambeth Conference, the Anglican Consultative Council, and the Primates), all of which placed a central focus on Canterbury.

This has proven increasingly unsatisfactory, for the Archbishop of Canterbury is bishop in a very English way -- as liege lord as well as father in God, both. The bishop is, in this view, both head of a spiritual family and head of a national institution. Both models assume a hierarchy of values well suited to modernity in which images of stability in family life and national leadership have been mainstays of social order. But of course, outside the particular context of England, the Archbishop is neither our Father in God nor an image of the Realm or nation in which we live. He becomes, as well he ought, a symbol of our desire for unity, not a sign of it.

Church-related events of these past months have certainly shown that allegiance is not due the Archbishop, Rowan Williams. His hope that the Episcopal Church not ordain Bishop Gene Robinson at this time was not realized. The Bishop of Pittsburgh, Robert Duncan, made fairly uncharitable remarks about what would transpire for the Archbishop if he did not act to condemn the Episcopal Church for its trespasses (which he did not). Various Primates, bishops and other potentates have flexed their ecclesiastical muscles in quite independent ways. Revolt against the office of the prince father is in the air, from the left unto the right, from the Global North to the Global South.

Whatever else the Anglican Communion is about, it is not, it seems, about unity based on the symbol of the Archbishop of Canterbury. It is not a time for symbols of unity.

Another option is that the Archbishop of Canterbury, or the Archbishop of Nigeria, Peter Akinola, or even the American Anglican Council and its "moderator bishop" for the network it is establishing, might become not a symbol of unity but a sign of the actual existence of such unity. But for that to work there would need be a reinstitution of a forceful system of actual allegiance, such that there would be unity, and the bishop would be a sign of that, or there has to be a breadth of practice in which people uncomfortable with one another still sit at the same table.

The Episcopal Church in its General Convention is an example of trying to work with the breadth of practice in which comfort is not very central. At the same time the Episcopal Church is in most matters of this sort agonizingly slow. We don't like or want things to get too uncomfortable, and as a result matters that might have been painful for a short time hang on and on.

At the moment, those in the Episcopal Church who are talking realignment are unwilling to sit at table with the rest of us through any more of this painful process. They require a separate table, and in the long run the only table, with those who did not sign a confessional statement left out.

All free thinkers and all members of the ecumenical community in which congregationalism is rampant take note -- these people want you and me out because they think we deny the Name of Jesus. What is sought is confessional allegiance, based on the statement, "Confession and Calling of the Anglican Communion Dioceses and Parishes" which supposedly promotes "unity of belief and practice that serves to expose the individualism and congregationalism that is now regnant within the Church at large and denies the Name of Jesus" (italics added). All free thinkers and all members of the ecumenical community in which congregationalism is rampant take note -- these people want you and me out because they think we deny the Name of Jesus.

The final basis of such actual allegiance should not be mistaken by anyone: the basis of that allegiance would include the strong enforcement of laws concerning heretical and other incorrect thinking. The basis of such allegiance would involve a reinstitution of what in a post-modern world we would view as a form of fascism -- the attempt to force the bundling together of the various expressions of the faith that grew from the experience and practice of the Church of England.

The longing for such a solid bundling of Faith and Order into a single whole proved impossible in the full bloom of modernity, when there was still the effort to grasp a unified worldview, be that political, economic or religious. That effort led us to astounding warfare, for the contention among world powers always has at its base the desire for empire. That in turn has justified the decimation of peoples, cultures, and the environment, and has turned religion into a primary way to engender solidarity for conquest. It is appalling that at the close of the modern era that religion has once again become the rallying point for the warrior's courage.

And in the microcosm of the Episcopal Church the unity of belief and practice called for by those who seek a realignment of the Episcopal Church's polity and practice is a rallying point for yet more warfare, this time for the good name of this church, and the powers, privileges, rights and property thereto appended.

Misguided Guile in the New Network The quite remarkable and in many ways admirable document, "Confessing and Calling of the Anglican Communion Diocese and Parishes," is an example of such an effort to bundle, to put things back into order -- the "historic Faith and Order" that the writers understand to be within the grasp of a faithful and obedient community. It looks on the surface to be a reasonable document, but within it are the clear signs of an emerging structure of control and takeover.

It is possible to sign the Confessing and Calling statement, which is called a Theological Charter: if one does so, depending on the signer, one is an "Anglican Communion Diocese," an "Anglican Communion Parish," or "Anglican Communion Clergy or Laity."

These designations are a sort of badge of honor, and remind me of the Wizard of Oz and the various citations handed out to the faithful and obedient friends of Dorothy. The problem is, of course, that they are meaningless in all save one regard: They distance the signers from being an Episcopal Church diocese, parish, clergy or layperson. That is precisely what this nomenclature does, and in signing the Charter the intent is signaled that the Episcopal Church is no longer how signers identify themselves.

No entity in the Anglican Communion is such a diocese, parish, clergy or lay person. Those extra-provincial dioceses that exist are attached to some other provincial entity. Those parishes in lonely isolation are parishes still of some diocese, persons are attached to parishes or dioceses. This nomenclature is deceptive.

More, of course, that nomenclature is what is used in the Charter for the Network of Anglican Communion Dioceses and Parishes. These dioceses and parishes "shall operate in good faith within the Constitution of The Episcopal Church" (Article I). The keen eye notices nothing being said here of the Canons. This network "will constitute a true and legitimate expression of the world-wide Anglican Communion" (Article II). One may ask, again, by whose authority or by what measure? The same, one supposes, that made them "Anglican Communion Dioceses," etc, in the first place.

Article V declares that "we...commit ourselves to full membership in the Anglican Communion of Churches throughout the world." And where, one might ask, is that declaration to be melded to the facts? It would appear by this Article that the Network is proposing to become a member church of the Anglican Communion. That does not sound like being part of the Episcopal Church, but rather replacing the Episcopal Church.

Article VII puts all of us on notice that it intends to work to provide "adequate Episcopal oversight" quite independently of the efforts by the Episcopal Church.

Article IX is the beginning of the structure to take on assets including property, in the beginnings of a parallel or perhaps replacement national church structure.

The call for a unity of belief and practice, as given in this Theological Charter, is in its authors' minds linked to the Barmen Declaration (1934). The Barmen Declaration is the only reference in the "Confessing and Calling" statement not from scripture. Such an attempt to link this document to the Barmen Declaration is an offense to the Episcopal Church, its deputies and bishops, and an offense to the seriousness of the Barmen Declaration.

As a reminder, the Barmen Declaration was written as a gathering point for Christians who were unwilling to give allegiance to the "official" German Church and therefore to the German Third Reich. To compare the signers of the Confessing and Calling document to the signers of the Barmen Declaration and therefore to compare the official German Church to the Episcopal Church (I presume by way of the acquiescence of both to the prevailing culture) is outrageous.

Those working for realignment are not countering fascism; they are supporting precisely the binding together and unity of belief and practice (on their terms) that is the mark of fascism in practice. Those working for realignment are not countering fascism; they are supporting precisely the binding together and unity of belief and practice (on their terms) that is the mark of fascism in practice. Those working for realignment are not facing a linkage of church and state as did those who signed the Barmen Declaration, indeed the decisions of the Episcopal Church's General Convention seem to be without support of the state, the administration, or even public opinion.

Those working for realignment are facing the Episcopal Church, of which they are a part, which made decisions with which they disagree. They believe they may be put in a minority or powerless place by the whole system, and feel betrayed, abandoned, and angry. Fair and lamentable enough. But that is a far cry from the persecution faced by those who signed the Barmen Declaration.

This comparison is full of guile.

The two statements -- the Theological Charter and the Charter for the Network -- constitute the front edge of what has become the struggle by those wishing "realignment" to cut away the sorry lot of us -- regular paid-up Episcopalians who are in their eyes the sick majority. If they can, they will take what is possible, but for sure they will attempt to take the "slot" in the Anglican Communion for a U.S. church. All the pretense of naming themselves "Anglican Communion Dioceses and Parishes" works to this end, as does a Charter that under cover actually allows what it seems not to allow -- in its protestations of "operating in good faith within the Constitution of The Episcopal Church."

The problem does not lie with the decisions made, but with the time at hand.

The strange, small and somewhat tortuous trail of statements, declarations, organizations, networks, convocations, etc., that began well before Lambeth 1998 have gotten us to this point where a fraction of the people of the Episcopal Church are unhappy enough to want to revise, restructure and realign this church in ways other than the normal canonical processes. The problems pointed to in the complaints concern recent actions of the General Convention, ordinations, celebrations of same-sex relationships, but the issues are deeper.

The complaints play into the hands of persons who believe they know how to fix things: by restoring ancient well-loved answers, and by taking over leadership of the "real" Anglican presence in the United States. But they are doomed to failure over time, for the problem is not in the decisions made in the recent past, but in the end of a time in which the story of faithful pilgrimage in Jesus Christ has only one telling.

The western world was brought kicking and screaming into modernity, and parts of the church never got over it...And now, as modernity is undergoing a transformation into we know not what -- that is, as we enter the post-modern period -- the church is kicking and screaming again. The western world was brought kicking and screaming into modernity, and parts of the church never got over it. To some extent the missionary efforts of the western churches gave voice to faithful people who found modernity difficult. In new places the old worldview could still be voiced without the need to make science and religion mesh. And now, as modernity is undergoing a transformation into we know not what -- that is, as we enter the post-modern period -- the church is kicking and screaming again.

And now the discontented are both the holders of a classical or pre-modern worldview and those who took on modernity in all its complexity. Those opposed to what the Episcopal Church is doing represent a cloud of witnesses from increasingly un-useful worldviews, and it is no wonder these brothers and sisters are often at odds with one another as well as with the actions of General Convention. And with all that, the opponents to the decisions of ECUSA's General Convention are nonetheless our brothers and sisters in the faith. We may, however, all need to find new ways of living in conflict. We must still learn to live with those who find what the Episcopal Church has done to be in error. Perhaps "living with them" means separation. Perhaps it means living together but not talking very easily with one another.

We live in a fractured world and we must find ways to live together anyway. I am convinced, however, that the way forward is not represented by the Theological Charter, nor by the Charter for the Network of Anglican Communion Dioceses and Parishes, nor by the American Anglican Council. Those efforts look back to a time whose goals have now expired. History is passing them by.

The Rev. Canon Mark Harris is author of The Challenge of Change: The Anglican Communion in the Post Modern Era, and a member of the Episcopal Church Publishing Company's (The Witness magazine) board of directors. He lives in Lewes, Del., and may be reached by email at poetmark@worldnet.att.net

This article was first published in The Witness Magazine and is republished here with permission.

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