Rev. Canon C. K. Robertson, Ph.D.2013-05-22T07:56:44-04:00Rev. Canon C. K. Robertson, Ph.D.http://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=rev-canon-c-k-robertson-phdCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Rev. Canon C. K. Robertson, Ph.D.Good old fashioned elbow grease.The Episcopal Church In The Anglican Communion: Independent but Connectedtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.8870572011-07-04T06:04:50-04:002011-09-03T05:12:02-04:00Rev. Canon C. K. Robertson, Ph.D.http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rev-canon-c-k-robertson-phd/
White was also an ordained Church of England minister. Having witnessed firsthand the birth of a new Republic, he turned his attention to the labor pains of a Church that could no longer be "of England" in name or composition, but neither could it be wholly unfamiliar. Through the Constitution that White wrote for this Episcopal Church, as it would become known, he helped create "a church government that will contain the constituent principles of the Church of England, and yet be independent of foreign jurisdiction or influence." Actually, this was no newborn he was helping along, but rather an adult child ready to strike out on its own, leaving the nest and creating a life separate from the expectations of its parent.
That parent, unsurprisingly, did not immediately embrace its child's new status. White used the term "Episcopal," the Greek term for "bishop," to describe this entity, and yet he could not convince Church of England leadership to consecrate indigenous bishops for the fledgling Church. In some ways, the situation was not that different from what was experienced by the first-century believers in Antioch, who desperately wanted the support and connection with the "mother Church," but at the same time were taking steps in their own governance and mission that reflected their geographic and ethnic context, and therefore looked quite different from what the Twelve had started in Jerusalem. Even so, while the English Church used the appointment system to propagate its ecclesiastical hierarchy, American bishops, said White, would be elected ... and not simply by clergy, but by lay representatives as well. In fact, the laity would share in unprecedented ways in the overall governance of the Church, including in the bicameral General Convention held every three years that would determine the direction for this Church. And in a land where there would be no king, neither would there be an archbishop. Rather, the head of this new Church would be a Presiding Bishop, reflecting the principles of the young republic in which this Church had taken root.
Through the years, misunderstandings and differences have continued. Oscar Wilde's famous maxim about two peoples separated by a common language has proven true for the Anglican Churches in these lands. It is not simply that different decisions made by one Church are often frustrating to the other. No, it is the difference in processes by which decisions are made in the respective Churches that can mystify and exasperate. Our directness can at times seem to be overly bold and unilateral, while the more nuanced ways of our transatlantic colleagues can appear heavy-handed and non-transparent. Singularly unhelpful labels such as "cowboy diplomacy" or "backroom politics" can prevent the real possibility of mutual understanding and appreciation of both Church's distinct contexts. At its worst, there can be now, as in William White's time, a refusal to see God at work in the other's polity and policies. Different does not have to mean deficient. And if we can let go of the infallibility of our opinions about our own context, perhaps we could learn from the other.
This is exactly what happened at our General Convention in 2009, as we invited an unprecedented number of leaders from other parts of the worldwide Anglican Communion -- all Churches in some way born out of the Church of England and remaining connected with the Archbishop of Canterbury -- to come and learn how we in The Episcopal Church operate and experience firsthand the rich diversity of this Church. The result was an increased respect of our often vastly different contexts, and a fresh appreciation of how we can hear God speak to each of us in these different contexts. Now, from July 5-13, the Vice President of the House of Bishops of this Church and I are invited guests at the Church of England's General Synod in York, watching and listening and learning how decisions are made in the "mother Church." Next year, at our next General Convention in Indianapolis, we will reciprocate and welcome Church of England representatives to be with us.
Over two centuries ago, a revolution gave birth to a new nation and a new Church. But independence does not have to result in isolationism or ingratitude. Instead, we must find new and intentional ways to connect with and learn from one another. In so doing, we will together live into the gospel that was proclaimed those many years ago in both Jerusalem and Antioch.]]>Dangerous Christians Who Teach Us To Live Like Jesustag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.8580552011-05-09T00:10:15-04:002011-07-08T05:12:01-04:00Rev. Canon C. K. Robertson, Ph.D.http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rev-canon-c-k-robertson-phd/
This is true whether the institution in question is corporate, government, academic, not-for-profit ... or, yes, religious. In fact, an ecclesiastical system can the most difficult, for to suggest change there is to risk being labeled a heretic or apostate who has been (as I once heard with my own ears) "co-opted by the darkness."
Throughout the Christian Church's history, "dangerous" believers have arisen, challenging comfortable definitions of who or what is acceptable to God, who can lead and who needs to keep quiet. Jesus himself was perceived as a threat precisely because he challenged seemingly unchangeable laws about the Sabbath and broke down the boundaries between the pure insiders and the unclean outsiders. It is significant that the followers of Jesus would eventually take as their primary identity marker not the rainbow or the fish, but the cross ... a constant reminder that to embrace the way of Christ is to risk following in his footsteps either figuratively or, at times, literally.
It is at least understandable when martyrdom comes at the hands of the secular powers. Early Christians faced lions in the arena because they were seen to be a threat to Roman political stability. Modern-day martyrs like El Salvador's Oscar Romero or Uganda's Janani Luwum similarly fell before governments who feared their voices and thereby silenced them. What has at times been more troubling, more insidious, has been when believers have faced the wrath of the very Church they faithfully served and lovingly tried to reform. In some cases, they have been killed, sacrificed for the sake of the allegedly greater good.
But some of these "dangerous" innovators, for reasons of popularity or sheer perseverance, have been impossible to kill. For these individuals, more ... creative means have been used to silence them. One technique could be described as "canonize and control." The idea is actually quite clever: place someone on a pedestal and you render that person irrelevant, at least in terms of being an example for the rest of us. Adoration thereby replaces emulation, reverence supplants replication. It is little wonder that Dorothy Day, that tenacious Christian activist, once asserted, "Don't call me a saint; I don't want to be dismissed that easily."
Francis of Assisi was not as fortunate. Ask just about anyone today about the thirteenth-century saint and they will praise him in glowing terms, but push them further to describe him and they will start talking about his love of birds and animals. Yet this was someone who almost singlehandedly turned the socio-economic structures of his time on their head. To the tens of thousands who followed him, familiar distinctions between rich and poor, high-born and outcast, gave way to a brotherhood and sisterhood in Christ. More than this, Francis dared to cross the all-important inter-religious barrier. At the height of the Crusades, he literally crossed through enemy lines to reach the Muslim sultan and share with him the good news of love and peace in Jesus' name. The sultan was astounded; many Christians were scandalized! He was such a threat that it was not long before he was removed as head of the very Order he founded. And yet for the vast majority of people today, Francis of Assisi is simply a nature lover, immortalized as a lawn statue, little more than a garden gnome!
In an even more pernicious reputation-changer, Mary of Magdala, first witness of the resurrection, became forever known as a former prostitute. Perhaps the idea of a woman being the "apostle to the apostles" -- and what such a precedent might have meant for gender equality in Christian leadership -- was too unthinkable for those in power. Whatever the case, otherwise independent tales in the Gospels became conflated, and Mary, whose only pre-crucifixion appearance in the Gospels marks her as one of a group of devoted women of means whose generosity helped underwrite Jesus' public ministry, is equated with the anonymous harlot who washed the Savior's feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. She entered the Christian pantheon, but with a tarnished image. More importantly in systemic terms, women like Mary would remain excluded from the Church's corridors of power for the next 19 centuries.
"Blessed are you," Jesus said, "when people curse you and revile you on account of me." They may be called prophets or troublemakers, saints or heretics, but whatever label is thrown their way has far more to say about those who fear them than about those blessed ones who are willing to face their own fears ... and stand. There will always be, as the pastor and Nazi resister Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said, a cost to discipleship. We can all give thanks that there are some "dangerous" believers who still consider it worth the cost to make a difference in the world for the love of God.