General Convention 2006  |  Anglican/Episcopal News  |  Lectionary Reflections  |  Human Sexuality

"Peace! Be Still!": Marching Orders from General Convention
 By Neil Elliott
Friday, June 23, 2006
 

"Who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?" (Mk 4:35-41)

Even for those of us who were not at our church's General Convention, who could only listen and read the experience of our lay and clergy deputies and our bishops at second hand, this has been a stormy week. At first, our diocesan deputies wrote of being overwhelmed by tears of joy and surprise when the House of Bishops -- which some characterized as a group of "old white men" -- elected a woman as Presiding Bishop. Some observers hailed the election as a clear sign that the Spirit was at work (though they didn't venture a similar hypothesis regarding the elections that had put all those "old white men" in office).

But then a "great windstorm arose." After the House of Deputies turned down on Tuesday a resolution that would have urged the church to refrain from electing or consecrating bishops whose "manner of life poses a challenge to the wider church," the House of Bishops passed just such a resolution, the now-notorious "B033." Efforts to qualify or tone down or limit the effect of the resolution were defeated, at the urging of the newly elected Presiding Bishop who advanced the curious argument that taking what she acknowledged was a profoundly regressive "two steps backward" was the best way forward.

Even for those of us who were not at our church's General Convention, who could only listen and read the experience of our lay and clergy deputies and our bishops at second hand, this has been a stormy week.
She then asked for permission to address the House of Deputies and made a similar impassioned plea, asking the deputies to take the extraordinary step of setting aside their own rules and taking up again a matter they had already decisively settled.

The result, some observers rather optimistically now declare, will be a costly but Christlike "renunciation" necessary in order to bring about reconciliation in the wider Anglican Communion. (There is another view: already a minority of bishops have signed a statement of dissent objecting both to the procedure and to the effect of the resolution.)

What's at Issue?

When both Houses of Convention declared an indefinite moratorium on the election or consecration of bishops whose "manner of life poses a challenge to the wider church," they apparently did not think they were talking about bishops who happened to be women -- although in the 1970s, some circles in the American church considered women priests not just a "challenge," but an "abomination."

When our deputies meeting in Convention renounced the election or consecration of bishops whose "manner of life poses a challenge to the wider church," they were apparently not talking about bishops whose actions might signal to gay men and lesbian women that they were second-class members of the church.
Nor, evidently, were our bishops and deputies talking about bishops who had been divorced and remarried more than once. And quite clearly, they were not talking about bishops whose actions might signal to gay men and lesbian women that they were second-class members of the church.

They were talking about bishops like Gene Robinson, meaning not caring, charismatic pastors, but gays living in committed relationships. And so they "renounced" -- on behalf of the people who had elected them as deputies or as bishops -- the right of New Hampshire, or of any diocese, to elect another bishop like that.

Now some of those same bishops and deputies urge us to accept these results calmly, to exercise prayerful restraint, to accept this "renunciation" made in our name as a way toward peace.

The difference between this situation and that described in today's Gospel is that Jesus did not simply pronounce the storm stilled; Jesus stilled the storm. We, on the other hand, continue to sail rough seas . . . and already some gay men and lesbian women have jumped off what has become for them an inhospitable craft.
The difference between this situation and that described in the "Stilling of the Storm" account in Mark 4 is that Jesus did not simply pronounce the storm stilled; Jesus stilled the storm. We, on the other hand, continue to sail rough seas; the waves beneath our Episcopal boat are getting very high; and already some gay men and lesbian women have been washed overboard, or have jumped off what has become for them an inhospitable craft.

A lot of solemn and soothing talk about the importance of making this "sacrifice" for the sake of "peace" won't bring them back, and it won't quell the nausea rising in the throats of some people still "on board." Presenting this action as a necessary "sacrifice" sends a clear message, though it's not the ones our deputies meant to send: that the sensibilities of one group -- including some of the most recalcitrantly conservative Anglicans in the world -- are far more important for the future of the Episcopal Church's "peace" than the sensibilities of another group, gays and lesbians, who are expendable. This action declares that our Church can do nothing but acquiesce in the face of a scolding from the Primates.

"Sacrifice" and "Renunciation"

Already some observers have described this "renunciation" as following Jesus's way to the cross. But renunciation is not something any of us can do for others. When our bishops "renounce" the means for churches to elect partnered gays and lesbians to ministries and privileges that they themselves continue to hold, it's hard to see how this is recognizably the way of the cross.

Some have invoked this "renunciation" as following Jesus's way to the cross. But renunciation is not something any of us can do for others.
By now -- decades after feminist, womanist, and Queer theologians began to ask relentlessly critical questions about the rhetoric at work in our Church -- one might have hoped such language would readily be seen for what it is: mystification for the systemic patriarchalism and heterosexism that pervade our Church and that we cannot admit to ourselves.

Early after the release of the Windsor Report, some bishops advocated a moratorium not just on consecrating gay bishops in committed relationships, but on consecrating any bishops, as a way of responding to Windsor without compromising what many felt were clear and important theological and ecclesiastical principles. That shared offer of renunciation has now apparently gone by the wayside.

Discerning The Spirit

We've been told repeatedly that the Spirit was at work in the actions of General Convention. But it is always the work of the church to discern the work of the Spirit, not simply to assent when we're told the Spirit has authorized a particular action.
We've been told repeatedly that the Spirit was at work in the actions of General Convention. But it is always the work of the church to discern the work of the Spirit, not simply to assent when we're told the Spirit has authorized a particular action.

It's simply bad theology to imagine that the Spirit is more present when red-robed bishops gather than when laypeople gather for prayerful deliberation. It's simply bad theology to imagine that the Spirit is more at work when someone holding our church's highest office makes an impassioned plea than when our duly elected deputies reach a decision through careful consideration.

If any part of the House of Deputies' action was a deference to episcopal authority rather than the exercise of the solemn charge to which deputies had been elected, we can certainly recognize an old and familiar Episcopalian habit: but it's simply bad theology to mistake habituated deference (if that was involved) for the work of the Spirit.

On one point, at least, I think our bishops are right. We are being called in this hour to a peculiar exercise of Christian renunciation.

In The Corinthian Women Prophets (Fortress Press, 1990), Ann Wire observed that in 1 Corinthians Paul preaches renunciation as the way of the cross of Christ; after all, loss and renunciation of status had been his experience of coming to Christ. To other Roman men of status - freeborn, financially independent citizens, householders, or tradesmen like himself - that message might have had the ring of powerful truth. But, Wire argued, Paul's language would have rung hollow directed against disenfranchised women and slaves who were just beginning to experience newfound power as Spirit-filled leaders of the church.
We must renounce the false calm of patriarchal order, even if it is the dominant model that saturates our scriptures, and even if it gives soothing familiarity to the rhythms and gestures of our courtly liturgical style.

We must renounce the comfort and familiarity of heterosexist privilege, even if it pervades our tradition, and even if it allows "us" to live in the coccoon of blithe illusion that "we" have the choice of welcoming "them" "in" to our assemblies.

We who have a strong sense of belonging in the Episcopal church -- of having stronger stomachs and "sea legs" as the boat rolls and pitches beneath us -- must ask what right we have to feel safe and secure in the midst of a storm that gives such distress to others around us. Perhaps we have become complacent with the easy language of "welcome." Perhaps the Spirit is calling us to share in the alienation, fear, and betrayal felt by those who have experienced this Convention as profoundly unwelcoming.


The Rev. Neil Elliott is a priest in the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota, a New Testament scholar, and member of the Episcopal Peace Fellowship in Minneapolis, Minn. He may be reached by email at NeilElliott@msn.com.