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Is “Evangelical” a dirty word?

Sun, 15 Apr 2012 19:02:18 -0500

It’s no surprise that hardly anyone wants to be “Evangelical” anymore. The word makes us think of worship services that try to be like rock concerts and sermons that try to be like SNL. It reminds us of everything that’s gone wrong with contemporary Christianity—consumerism, endless swaths of parking lots around churches managed like corporations, and the “moralistic, therapeutic deism” of suburban sprawl. “Evangelical” has fallen on hard times.

But I am an Evangelical. I’m Evangelical because everyday I pray that the Word of God would be heard and heeded by God’s people. “Evangelical” comes from an old word euangelion, “Good News.” To be Evangelical is to believe and act on the primacy of God’s Good News, the Bible, to believe “Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to salvation.”

The Bible did not fly down from outer space gift-wrapped. Exegesis is not a project for me and myself, alone in my bedroom. It is the enterprise of the vast “communion of saints.” Extreme forms of sola scriptura are simply wrong. Scripture is only “scripture” because of its relationship to the believing Church.

It should be impossible for us to consider the Bible outside of the context of the universal communion of saints. Without the sensus ecclesiae and the regula fidei, the sense of the church and the rule of faith, we not only lack wise authority in how to interpret Scripture, but we also close ourselves off from receiving the words of God as living members of Christ’s Body and Bride, the Church.

But this does not mean that the Church can invent new doctrines or practices that contradict Scripture. With the best intentions, “the Tradition” can wander and err. The Bible is what the Church Fathers called the norma normas non normata, “the norm of norms which cannot be normed to any other norm.” Tradition should be used and should be authoritative in its proper construct. But it is not above Scripture.

The Bible is not an “answer book” to any old random question. Scripture was written by human beings in a historical setting, human beings whom God used to convey the unfolding story of His purposes. The “Holy Writ” is a collection of sixty-six books and letters written in three languages by more than forty authors—from kings to poets to doctors to tax collectors—over a period of fifteen hundred years. This collection is called the “canon” (kanon, “straight rod” or “rule”), and it is divided into two “testaments” (covenants or agreements) between God and His people. It tells the true story of how God made us and seeks relationship with us despite our defiant and recalcitrant attitude towards Him, and how He has reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ. The Canon is the anchor of Christian doctrine and praxis. It is the instrument of God to accomplish his purposes. The goal of Scripture is “to make us wise unto salvation,” and it is “useful for teaching, reproof, correction, and training in righteousness.” It outfits us with all that is needful for a saving knowledge of God and our sanctification. And it slowly emerged as a canon through the same messy process all things shaped by a community come into existence: reaction, trial and error, and above all, liturgical use.

I am “Evangelical” because I want to step back onto that Patristic path in which the primacy Scripture is recognized and practiced. Hearing and responding to the Word of God is central to Christian Catholicity. The Bible forms and informs our worship. Reading the Bible is a Church activity more than it is a private activity. It connects us in a vital way to God’s self-disclosure, his demands, his “promises of old.” Corporate reception of the word helps us to speak truly of God’s being, his acts, and his character. It gets us saturated in the culture of God’s Kingdom, as an alternative society by an alternative narrative—God’s narrative.

www.holyrenaissance.com

Helplessness about homelessness

Fri, 13 Apr 2012 13:07:55 -0500

Two days ago I was sitting in McDonalds drinking free refill after free refill of their $.99 coffee and reading. In the small town I’m visiting, deep in the Mississippi Delta, the McDonalds is the cleanest place to study, and the only place with wi-fi. A “homeless” man staggered in from the rain and marched straight to me and asked for money. I only had a credit card (an alibi I’m sure he’s heard before), but invited him to sit and eat a stack of McDonalds hotcakes and eggs with me.

But—unbelievably—the credit card connection was down, so we had to wait for our food. As we sat in the corner of McDonalds, I learned of his travels and some of his hardships, his bad knees, and how he has brothers in Florida who sometimes send him money. After a half-hour of credit-card nonsense, I packed my books and we ran through the rain across the street to KFC. He had a hankering for fried chicken. There was a great deal of enthusiasm when we learned that they have a buffet for only $8.99. He ate, and ate, and ate, and I watched, and we talked about basketball—a subject which, it soon became clear, we both knew very little about.

After another twenty minutes of basically sitting with him and not knowing what to say, and not feeling particularly righteous either, I excused myself and went back to McDonalds to keep reading. The whole experience reminded me of the sense of helplessness I’ve often felt about the problem of homelessness.

My latest album, Think Out Loud: Music Serving the Homeless in the Twin Cities, was an effort to raise awareness and support for agencies that care for the homeless in the Twin Cities. You can learn more about the project at the official website, but in general the project didn’t achieve the results I had hoped for. Despite the great line-up of local artists, the press ignored it, and it didn’t sell very many copies. When it was all said and done, I felt like I had failed in my efforts to help those in need. And the other day, with this homeless man who had stomach problems and achy knees, I felt the same sense of helplessness. I kept thinking: he needs so much more than a KFC buffet meal. He needs a new start.

But maybe it was not my job to help him find a job or a home. Maybe my job was simply to hang out with him on a rainy morning. He is, after all, a man. And I can relate to achy knees and a hankering for fried chicken.

Is “Catholic” a dirty word?

Wed, 11 Apr 2012 14:15:00 -0500

Most people are reluctant to get embroiled in a conflict of epic proportions. So it’s no surprise to me, when talking over coffee or running errands, that friends cringe when I describe myself as “Catholic.” And I’m not at all bewildered that when I begin to explain why I’m “Catholic,” there is a sudden flourish of activity to change the topic of conversation. Didn’t Catholicism disappear with the black plague? Why can’t I just call myself Anglican, and be done with it?

In a lot of circles, “Catholic” is a dirty word. But for me, it is a beautiful word. This is no surprise, since I’ve spent the last six months at Nashotah House—that quirky, Midwest slice of Anglican life since 1843. At Nashotah, it’s the hottest word on the street. To drop the word “Catholic” in our halls and chapels is to speak the Koine Greek of our little neck of the wood’s, our geeky slang.

The idea is that we do not live in a make-believe vacuum of “the Bible and me.” As baptized Christians, we now belong to the whole Body of Christ, in real history, yet unbound by space or time.

The word was first used by St. Ignatius in 165 AD. He said: “Wherever the bishop is there let the congregation be, just as wherever Jesus the Christ is there is the Catholic Church.” In other words, the Church is Catholic when Christ is present. The “Catholic Church” is the incarnational embodiment of Jesus Christ, mediated by the living instrumental and sacramental realities of his Body, the Church, in real space and time. He is the vine, we are the branches. When grafted into the vine of Christ, the Church is “Catholic.”

Even though every Sunday morning we recite the Nicene Creed, so many of us do not know what we mean when we affirm that we believe in “one, holy, catholic and apostolic church.” This catholicity refers to the comprehensiveness and implicit unity of the Church as Christ’s Body (kata ‘with respect to’ + holos ‘the whole’). In the same way one can be Orthodox without being Eastern Orthodox, the “Catholic Church” is not only the Roman Catholic Church. Because the one God is the communion of three persons, the one Church is a communion of many communities and the local parish is a communion of many people. God’s Trinitarian koinonia is the model for His Church’s koinonia.

A blog is not enough space to fully explore the richness of Catholicity. But for now the best way I can summarize it is that the Holy Catholic Church is the orthodox community of saints actively participating in the Body of Christ through the apostolic, historic and continuous heritage of Christian faith. The Holy Catholic Church is marked by Scripture, ecumenical councils, creeds, an episcopate of apostolic succession, liturgy, faith, and above all, love. The Catholic Church lives in such a way so as to be pleasing to God and recognizable to the vast communion of saints, the Corpus Christi, the Body of Christ. As Lancelot Andrewes would put it, Catholicity begins with: “One canon, two testaments, the first three creeds, the first four ecumenical councils, and the first five centuries, and the series of Fathers in that period.”

This is, in part, why I call myself Catholic: I do not live in a closet of “Jesus and me.” I belong to the Body of Christ, his One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church. And, in part, this is why at Nashotah House “Catholic” is a word so old it’s hip again: we are Christians before we are Anglicans.

www.holyrenaissance.com

Anchors Aweigh!

Wed, 4 Apr 2012 14:19:24 -0500

“So that’s the short version of it,” my good friend Noah Lawson tells me. We’re tucked into a cozy corner of the Cloister, looking out on a bright spring morning in Nashotah’s wooded campus. In just a few winding sentences, Noah has distilled the last few decades of his life into a SparkNotes version of God’s call on him to holy orders. From youth ministry and mission trips to the basic behind the scenes work of running a parish, Noah’s been looking for ways to serve for years. It runs in his family. His Father is a priest, and that same call now rings in his ears. This is why he’s been working so hard at Nashotah House: to prepare for ministry in God’s Kingdom. And now he’s about to set sail.

On March 9th, Nashotah House Junior Noah Lawson was commissioned as an ensign in the United States Navy and officially entered the Navy Chaplain Candidate Program. Dozens of friends, priests, and faculty packed into the tiny Red Chapel behind the cloister to join in worship and to witness his “signing.” It was a powerful and moving service. We lifted up our voices in harmony, belting out the classic sailor hymn “Eternal Father: Strong to Save”. And once the semester’s over, Noah is going to hightail it out of the north woods of Wisconsin, and hit the High Seas.

“God has given me a desire to provide the outward and visible sign of the sacrament of penance and reconciliation so that people like these can find peace,” Noah says.

He was motivated to apply for the program because of early and formative ministry experiences that helped him to discern a call to ordained ministry in the Anglican Church. From counseling and confession, to the moral support and the Sacraments, Marines and Coast Guardsmen have faith needs that must be met. And Noah wants to help meet those needs. Whether conducting worship ceremonies on a ship at sea or assisting clergy with religious activities at the home base, Navy Chaplains can bring Christ into peoples’ lives in new and exciting ways. They get in the spiritual line of fire, as it were, seeking to bless and to heal wherever there is a need.

Noah believes his preparation for the priesthood here at Nashotah House Theological Seminary has been preparing him to serve: “The structure, focus on spiritual and priestly formation, and rigorous orthodox theological preparation,” he says, “are all helping to outfit me with the necessary tools to effectively minister to the needs of our military and our broken world.” Bon voyage, Noah. And may it be so.

A Toast to the 1662

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 12:08:45 -0500

Last night the giant Maple Tree by the 150 year-old Red Chapel bloomed neon. It looks like God crocheted bright lime green buds on a medieval tapestry, a beautiful mixing of the old with the new. White tulips even popped up outside the Chapel of Saint Mary. You can almost smell the approach of Eastertide, and tonight is the champagne toast and display of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer on its 350th Anniversary.

We’re calling it “Gathering Crumbs Under They Table.” The phrase appears in the Eucharistic Rites of the Prayer Book, and comes from a Gentile woman who shamelessly pursued the healing of Jesus for her daughter in Matthew 15: “Truth, Lord: yet dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.”

After what is sure to be a spirited sermon by the Very Rev’d Frank F. Limehouse, III, the Dean of the Cathedral Church of the Advent, Birmingham, students and priests and faculty and guests will amble past the small springtime gardens outside the chapel over to the old library to marvel at original printings of the 1549, 1552, 1559, and 1662 Prayer Books of England.

We’re excited about this event because for Anglicans worship and belief are inseparable. We pray what we believe. Theology is not meant to be practiced in an ivory tower. Theology is meant to be lived, worshiped and celebrated in the corporate body of Christ. And for Anglicans, the 1662 Book of Common Prayer has been central to our common worship. “It’s enduring richness and vitality remains fundamental to our Anglican identity,” commends our Dean and President, the Rt. Rev’d Edward L. Salmon, “because its prose is thoroughly biblical, its structure gives glory to God and its theological splendor lies in its affirmation that only through the acknowledgement that God was in Christ reconciling the world can we come to know the grace and peace of God that passes all understanding.”

It’s springtime and yet here at Nashotah we’re celebrating something so ancient. It’s this mix of the old and the new, the green and seasoned, that encourages us in our pursuit of Christ. Christianity, ever old and ever new, is as true and urgent as ever. And every day we get to live our faith together on this small campus in prayer—prayer patterned at the 1662 Prayer Book, prayer taken right out of Scripture.

www.holyrenaissance.com