It’s a big weekend in the Diocese of Virginia. Two congregations, Truro Church, Fairfax, and The Falls Church of Falls Church, will begin a process of congregational voting on the issue of whether to stay in the Diocese of Virginia of The Episcopal Church, or to separate themselves and subsequently join the Convocation of Anglicans in North America, associated with the Church of Nigeria – Anglican. Thinking Anglicans calls this to our attention here.
My guess is that the results are predictable. A majority of those voting in these two congregations will probably vote to leave The Episcopal Church.
Not that long ago I was watching the same process take place in Christ Church, Overland Park, Kansas. The congregation took longer to vote – four Sundays, I think, instead of two. However, the vote was entirely predictable. A majority – a supermajority approaching two thirds or better, if I remember correctly – voted to leave the Diocese of Kansas of The Episcopal Church and seek oversight from the Province of Uganda. No one knew exactly what the numbers would be when things started, but almost no one was surprised by the outcome.
You see, by the time of the vote, most of those who might have opposed it had already left the congregation. This was not so much an issue of manipulation or exclusion, although there were those who did feel that way. It was more the case that the clergy had established a clear trajectory, a clear direction for the congregation. It was established by the standards for Bible study and theological reflection, by tone and tenor, more than anything else. The rector became progressively more conservative in his interpretation, at least on some subjects; and there were plenty of folks who found that consistent with their beliefs. Many, and probably most, of those who didn’t find it consistent with The Episcopal Church has they had known it, found a different congregation, one that “fed them spiritually,” as we say; and most had done so well before the Christ Church congregation came to “40 Days of Purpose,” much less to a vote.
The current principles and spiritual culture at Truro Church and at The Falls Church are not new. They’ve been on this trajectory for a number of years. They may only now have come to a vote; but I believe them when they say the issues have been simmering for some time. I imagine that those who did not hear Christ at Truro Church or at The Falls Church left some time ago; and that those who stayed were those who did hear Christ in those congregations. Were people run off? Was their church taken away from them? Such things were said by folks who left Christ Church, and I expect they will be said here, too.
But mostly I imagine it’s a case of folks finding or not finding Christ in the particular environments of those two congregations, and then voting with their feet. So, regardless of the hype, it's not recent events, studies, or letters back and forth that will really affect the results of the processes in these parishes. It’s those other votes, cast some time ago, that will do most to determine the votes cast over these next two Sundays.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Toward An Episcopal Culture for Health Care: Justice
"Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, loving your neighbor as yourself?"
This is one of the promises in the Baptismal Covenant. I've written before here and here of the distinctive North American use of the Baptismal Covenant, and especially regular recitation by all present at baptisms, confirmations, and the Easter Vigil. Certainly, this would be important in developing an Episcopal culture for health care.
But, what comes under the category of justice? . Health care institutions are only involved in the justice system at the periphery. Some of us have cared for prisoners, and there are health care providers in that system; but for Episcopal health care institutions this is not a formative issue.
Moreover, in health care justice has a rather specific connotation. Justice is the fourth category in "the Georgetown Mantra," the categories of respecting personhood that currently pervade clinical ethics. In discussions of health care ethics, the question of justice is how the issue under discussion affects others beside patient and providers, including family, other patients, and society at large. Justice issues can be as large as national decisions of health care policy; or as intimate as which of two eligible patients gets access to the one available donor organ or mechanical ventilator. It can be both at the same time, as when a hospital decides how much care can be provided to patients who can't pay, and has to decide how this applies to the person who just walked into the ER.
Justice is also the category under which money issues are discussed. Almost inevitably, when a money issue is raised in an ethics discussion it is prefaced with an apology: " I hate to bring up money, but.... " We are appropriately wary of "putting a value on human life (or suffering or rights)." At the same time, care does cost something, and funds are not unlimited. Corporations have, in the past at least, practiced the notorious "Pinto planning" - calculating the cost of a safety-oriented engineering change against the probable liability and legal costs resulting from not making the change. Many now are making decisions regarding whether to reduce health benefits of employees. We do make such decisions, if indirectly. When we do, it is certainly an issue of justice.
So, how would an Episcopal culture for health care reflect justice among all people? Certainly, economic concerns would be one expression. In recent years, as so many Christians have wrestled with issues of human sexuality and family relationships, we have often been reminded that in the Bible there are many more references to economic issues than to issues of human sexuality. In most cases, those issues relate to economic behavior as an expression of justice and wholeness. The various laws related to the year of the Jubilee, and the restrictions on lending reflect that theme. The repeated calls for justice in Isaiah and Amos reflect behavior and class structures expressing significant economic differences. Micah tells us it is the first thing that God requires. Jesus’ proclamations of the Kingdom, whether in reading from Isaiah in Luke 4 or in the Last Judgment in Matthew 25, insist that the Kingdom serves the poor and the least. The promise that “the first will be last and the last, first,” seems to apply as much in financial status as in social status. I have already written about the poor in an Episcopal culture for health care. Caring for them is as much an expression of justice as of compassion.
Other aspects of justice would also seem to be important. For example, does the institution have policies to support a diverse leadership and staff? How many different expressions of diversity are recognized and celebrated? Issues of social justice respecting persons regardless of age, race, gender, creed, or sexual orientation may reflect contemporary political considerations, but they also reflect the Biblical tradition of welcoming the sojourner and the Christian tradition that all are equal before God.
Respecting patient rights in clinical and research ethics would also seem relevant to issues of justice. After all, justice is, as has been noted, one of the principles of “the Georgetown Mantra.” The intent in articulating those principles is to insure an approach to care based in respect for persons.
Related to that would be policies and practices in an institution built on obeying relevant laws and regulations. Federal, state, and municipal laws, and standards of various accrediting organizations are oriented directly or indirectly to protecting patients, families, and staff. And violation of laws would involve the institution with the justice system.
This is a preliminary reflection on how an Episcopal culture for health care would reflect this injunction from the Baptismal Covenant. Further reflection could center around our concepts of “peace” and “all people” and “neighbor.” However, justice is an appropriate place to start. It is where the injunction begins. It is a central theme of “walking humbly before God.” It would certainly be an identifiable dynamic of an Episcopal culture for health care.
This is one of the promises in the Baptismal Covenant. I've written before here and here of the distinctive North American use of the Baptismal Covenant, and especially regular recitation by all present at baptisms, confirmations, and the Easter Vigil. Certainly, this would be important in developing an Episcopal culture for health care.
But, what comes under the category of justice? . Health care institutions are only involved in the justice system at the periphery. Some of us have cared for prisoners, and there are health care providers in that system; but for Episcopal health care institutions this is not a formative issue.
Moreover, in health care justice has a rather specific connotation. Justice is the fourth category in "the Georgetown Mantra," the categories of respecting personhood that currently pervade clinical ethics. In discussions of health care ethics, the question of justice is how the issue under discussion affects others beside patient and providers, including family, other patients, and society at large. Justice issues can be as large as national decisions of health care policy; or as intimate as which of two eligible patients gets access to the one available donor organ or mechanical ventilator. It can be both at the same time, as when a hospital decides how much care can be provided to patients who can't pay, and has to decide how this applies to the person who just walked into the ER.
Justice is also the category under which money issues are discussed. Almost inevitably, when a money issue is raised in an ethics discussion it is prefaced with an apology: " I hate to bring up money, but.... " We are appropriately wary of "putting a value on human life (or suffering or rights)." At the same time, care does cost something, and funds are not unlimited. Corporations have, in the past at least, practiced the notorious "Pinto planning" - calculating the cost of a safety-oriented engineering change against the probable liability and legal costs resulting from not making the change. Many now are making decisions regarding whether to reduce health benefits of employees. We do make such decisions, if indirectly. When we do, it is certainly an issue of justice.
So, how would an Episcopal culture for health care reflect justice among all people? Certainly, economic concerns would be one expression. In recent years, as so many Christians have wrestled with issues of human sexuality and family relationships, we have often been reminded that in the Bible there are many more references to economic issues than to issues of human sexuality. In most cases, those issues relate to economic behavior as an expression of justice and wholeness. The various laws related to the year of the Jubilee, and the restrictions on lending reflect that theme. The repeated calls for justice in Isaiah and Amos reflect behavior and class structures expressing significant economic differences. Micah tells us it is the first thing that God requires. Jesus’ proclamations of the Kingdom, whether in reading from Isaiah in Luke 4 or in the Last Judgment in Matthew 25, insist that the Kingdom serves the poor and the least. The promise that “the first will be last and the last, first,” seems to apply as much in financial status as in social status. I have already written about the poor in an Episcopal culture for health care. Caring for them is as much an expression of justice as of compassion.
Other aspects of justice would also seem to be important. For example, does the institution have policies to support a diverse leadership and staff? How many different expressions of diversity are recognized and celebrated? Issues of social justice respecting persons regardless of age, race, gender, creed, or sexual orientation may reflect contemporary political considerations, but they also reflect the Biblical tradition of welcoming the sojourner and the Christian tradition that all are equal before God.
Respecting patient rights in clinical and research ethics would also seem relevant to issues of justice. After all, justice is, as has been noted, one of the principles of “the Georgetown Mantra.” The intent in articulating those principles is to insure an approach to care based in respect for persons.
Related to that would be policies and practices in an institution built on obeying relevant laws and regulations. Federal, state, and municipal laws, and standards of various accrediting organizations are oriented directly or indirectly to protecting patients, families, and staff. And violation of laws would involve the institution with the justice system.
This is a preliminary reflection on how an Episcopal culture for health care would reflect this injunction from the Baptismal Covenant. Further reflection could center around our concepts of “peace” and “all people” and “neighbor.” However, justice is an appropriate place to start. It is where the injunction begins. It is a central theme of “walking humbly before God.” It would certainly be an identifiable dynamic of an Episcopal culture for health care.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Volunteers In Chaplaincy: The Discussion Goes On
Just a little update. The discussions regarding volunteers in chaplaincy at PlainViews have been going on. New comments (yes, including one from me) were posted at that site on November 15 and December 6. My friend Susan at Rickety Contrivances of Doing Good has shared her own thoughts and enthusiasm.
I will say that this has been the broadest discussion, at least in terms of venue and of shades of opinion, that I have seen on this topic. I think that, in the end, this will serve chaplains and patients well.
I will say that this has been the broadest discussion, at least in terms of venue and of shades of opinion, that I have seen on this topic. I think that, in the end, this will serve chaplains and patients well.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
I Think Bishop Schofield Has Missed a Couple of Things
This started, as so often happens, at Thinking Anglicans. The specific topic was the Diocesan Convention of San Joaquin. That Convention, led by Bishop John-David Schofield, passed on first reading changes in diocesan constitution and canons that would presume to distance San Joaquin from The Episcopal Church, and declare that diocese “constituent” within the Anglican Communion.
Among the other documents linked from the report on Thinking Anglicans was Bishop Schofield’s address to the Diocesan Convention. I read it, and felt moved to respond. Now, I initially responded on Thinking Anglicans; but I waxed eloquent (or at least verbose) and exceeded the 400-word guideline there (a wise guideline to which I humbly and happily accede).
But then, I have a blog. If I want to write so much, I can post it there. And here it is.
Perhaps there are many nits to pick in Bishop Schofield's address – issues of how accurately he recounts recent history, or how accurately he describes the positions and concerns of those with whom he disagrees; but others will do so, and probably better than I. Two things did strike me, especially in light of recent discussion in the blogosphere.
First, he specifically cited issues of ecumenical discussion and hope for union with Eastern Orthodoxy and with Roman Catholicism. Several recent discussions I've run across have noted that these are not the only large, international bodies of Christians with whom we interact ecumenically, much less nationally and locally in the Episcopal Church. A number of those other bodies are not so distressed at the ordination of women or full welcome of GLBT persons in the entire life of the Church, including orders. We are in conversation and sometimes in full communion with communities that maintain the historic Episcopate, but are not in communion with either Rome or Constantinople (the Lutherans, the Old Catholic Churches of the Union of Utrecht, and the Mar Thoma Church come to mind). We may find the similar structures - especially an initially similar Episcopate - of Rome and Constantinople attractive; but they hardly describe the whole Body of Christ. Citing ecumenical issues with only a part of the Body illustrates Bishop Schofield's inclinations regarding centralization of authority, and, in my opinion, clericalism.
Second, I find Bishop Schofield's image of Paul before Agrippa interesting. It certainly works to illustrate his perspective that San Joaquin is the prophetic voice. Or, perhaps it would if he were talking about San Joaquin. What impressed me was how very much he personalized the parallel with Paul. Yes, questions have been raised with and for him as an individual, ordained in The Episcopal Church (and for all his repetition of it, there is no institution called "The Anglican Communion" within which to be ordained - repetition doesn't make it so). However, his image of himself as so central, so pivotal, detracts from his focus on issues. Yes, there may be some consequences for him, but this is not about him, from either pole of the debate. His presentation suggests to me that he's not clear about that.
Let me make an analogy. I am a citizen of the United States, and of a State, and of a City. I am subject to all the laws of those various levels of government. I cannot deny one level to the exclusion of another, even it I might argue (even successfully) that the laws at one level supersede the level at another. Am I a citizen of the world? Yes, but only in a metaphorical sense. Am I subject to international law? Yes, but only under the terms of agreements between the United States. At this time, for all the promises or worries the phrase entails, there is no World Government.
In parallel (and if the analogy is imperfect, I still think it is apt), I am a priest with a specific position in a particular diocese within The Episcopal Church. I am subject to the canons and policies of all those levels of authority. I cannot deny one level to the exclusion of another, even if I might argue (even successfully) that canons at one level might supersede canons at another level. Am I a member of the Anglican Communion? Yes, but only metaphorically. Am I responsible within the Anglican Communion? Yes, but only under the terms of the relationships among those various provinces of the Communion, made somewhat substantial by recognition by the See of Canterbury and participation in the Instruments of Communion. And those relationships are provincial, and not diocesan. I am no more individually related to the Archbishop of Canterbury than to my own Presiding Bishop, or to the Primate of Canada or the Primus of Scotland. We share in Christ’s grace, and we are recipients of Anglican tradition; but in terms of the Anglican Communion, I am connected to them in and through the relationships between provinces. In those parallel structures of how we as human beings have organized ourselves under God, my specifically Anglican connections, unlike my general Christian connections, are through the structures and not despite them.
All in all, I do not find Bishop Schofield's argument persuasive. We have yet to see the consequences of his leadership of his diocese within the context of the institution he used to recognize as his church. In the meantime, I think it is important to see ourselves within the entire Body of Christ, and not simply within the Anglican limb; and to recognize that if I am heeding Christ’s call to seek and serve “the least of these,” I have to remember, however strongly I might feel, that this isn’t all about – it isn’t even, it can’t be, even mostly about - me.
Among the other documents linked from the report on Thinking Anglicans was Bishop Schofield’s address to the Diocesan Convention. I read it, and felt moved to respond. Now, I initially responded on Thinking Anglicans; but I waxed eloquent (or at least verbose) and exceeded the 400-word guideline there (a wise guideline to which I humbly and happily accede).
But then, I have a blog. If I want to write so much, I can post it there. And here it is.
Perhaps there are many nits to pick in Bishop Schofield's address – issues of how accurately he recounts recent history, or how accurately he describes the positions and concerns of those with whom he disagrees; but others will do so, and probably better than I. Two things did strike me, especially in light of recent discussion in the blogosphere.
First, he specifically cited issues of ecumenical discussion and hope for union with Eastern Orthodoxy and with Roman Catholicism. Several recent discussions I've run across have noted that these are not the only large, international bodies of Christians with whom we interact ecumenically, much less nationally and locally in the Episcopal Church. A number of those other bodies are not so distressed at the ordination of women or full welcome of GLBT persons in the entire life of the Church, including orders. We are in conversation and sometimes in full communion with communities that maintain the historic Episcopate, but are not in communion with either Rome or Constantinople (the Lutherans, the Old Catholic Churches of the Union of Utrecht, and the Mar Thoma Church come to mind). We may find the similar structures - especially an initially similar Episcopate - of Rome and Constantinople attractive; but they hardly describe the whole Body of Christ. Citing ecumenical issues with only a part of the Body illustrates Bishop Schofield's inclinations regarding centralization of authority, and, in my opinion, clericalism.
Second, I find Bishop Schofield's image of Paul before Agrippa interesting. It certainly works to illustrate his perspective that San Joaquin is the prophetic voice. Or, perhaps it would if he were talking about San Joaquin. What impressed me was how very much he personalized the parallel with Paul. Yes, questions have been raised with and for him as an individual, ordained in The Episcopal Church (and for all his repetition of it, there is no institution called "The Anglican Communion" within which to be ordained - repetition doesn't make it so). However, his image of himself as so central, so pivotal, detracts from his focus on issues. Yes, there may be some consequences for him, but this is not about him, from either pole of the debate. His presentation suggests to me that he's not clear about that.
Let me make an analogy. I am a citizen of the United States, and of a State, and of a City. I am subject to all the laws of those various levels of government. I cannot deny one level to the exclusion of another, even it I might argue (even successfully) that the laws at one level supersede the level at another. Am I a citizen of the world? Yes, but only in a metaphorical sense. Am I subject to international law? Yes, but only under the terms of agreements between the United States. At this time, for all the promises or worries the phrase entails, there is no World Government.
In parallel (and if the analogy is imperfect, I still think it is apt), I am a priest with a specific position in a particular diocese within The Episcopal Church. I am subject to the canons and policies of all those levels of authority. I cannot deny one level to the exclusion of another, even if I might argue (even successfully) that canons at one level might supersede canons at another level. Am I a member of the Anglican Communion? Yes, but only metaphorically. Am I responsible within the Anglican Communion? Yes, but only under the terms of the relationships among those various provinces of the Communion, made somewhat substantial by recognition by the See of Canterbury and participation in the Instruments of Communion. And those relationships are provincial, and not diocesan. I am no more individually related to the Archbishop of Canterbury than to my own Presiding Bishop, or to the Primate of Canada or the Primus of Scotland. We share in Christ’s grace, and we are recipients of Anglican tradition; but in terms of the Anglican Communion, I am connected to them in and through the relationships between provinces. In those parallel structures of how we as human beings have organized ourselves under God, my specifically Anglican connections, unlike my general Christian connections, are through the structures and not despite them.
All in all, I do not find Bishop Schofield's argument persuasive. We have yet to see the consequences of his leadership of his diocese within the context of the institution he used to recognize as his church. In the meantime, I think it is important to see ourselves within the entire Body of Christ, and not simply within the Anglican limb; and to recognize that if I am heeding Christ’s call to seek and serve “the least of these,” I have to remember, however strongly I might feel, that this isn’t all about – it isn’t even, it can’t be, even mostly about - me.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Blogiography and Ephesians 4:15
People tend to be surprised when I tell them I have a blog. Some are confused, and a few have no idea what a blog is. Most are simply surprised, wondering how I would find the time and energy to write something with any frequency.
The fact is, there’s a lot to write about, just in keeping up with the day-to-day discussions on other people’s (busier) blogs, and trying to participate in a conversation. I mean, I’m certainly opinionated, and I enjoy laying my thoughts out; but it’s pretty dull without someone to talk back. I do get comments on many of my postings, and I appreciate every person who responds; but rarely has there been enough exchange to speak of a conversation. So, I go elsewhere, as Terry Jones, “coming in for an argument.”
That’s an argument, as in “An argument is a connected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.” And “An argument is a connected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.” Some of you will recognize that from the “Argument Clinic” sketch, Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Episode 29. Those who do will remember just how far in that quest Jones’s character actually got.
All of which is remarkably prophetic of the blogosphere. Oh, on a whole there are many folks making statements that go beyond simple assertion to actually make an argument. On the busier sites there can be participants in the conversations that want an argument, an exchange of ideas with opportunities for people to think, if not to be convinced. At the same time, there is an awful lot of assertion and contradiction our there pretending to be argument; and even those blog sites that do encourage many voices will have to put up with a significant measure of that. It becomes quite tiring, really.
Which is all the sadder, since the blogs I frequent are those of professing Christians, and specifically (usually) professing Episcopalians and Anglicans. I don’t know that those blogs are any better or worse than non- Episcopal and Anglican blogs, religious or otherwise. I only know that they do carry their share of blind assertion and contradiction and repetition adulterating, and sometimes overwhelming, efforts at argument.
That brings me to a comment I heard from my mother as I was growing up. I was instructed “to learn to disagree without being disagreeable.” I suppose often enough I was disagreeable, which usually meant loud and stubborn with an occasional moment of spite thrown in. And often enough I think my mother wanted me to be agreeable at the expense of my actually disagreeing. But in principle, the point was worthwhile: not to stop honest disagreement, but to present it calmly, rationally, or at least politely.
Now, that was frequently tied to the injunction from Ephesians 4:15 “to speak the truth in love.” I grew up in a culture that largely avoided emotional display, and in a household that largely avoided conflict. I suppose in that context it was not unexpected that “disagree without being disagreeable” and “speaking the truth in love” could sound a lot alike. It was also tied, in some mysterious way, with “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Yes, it made for some terrible mixed messages; but, well, there you are.
As I look at Episcopal and Anglican blogs, I find myself wrestling with what it means, “to speak the truth in love.” With that in mind, I did some digging, and found some variation in how different English translations have dealt with that phrase.
“But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.” (NRSV; RSV; NIV; KJV)
“we will speak the truth in love” (New Living Translation)
“Love should always make us tell the truth” (Contemporary English Version)
“we will lovingly follow the truth” (The Living Bible)
“we are meant to speak the truth in love” (Phillips Modern English)
“by speaking the truth in a spirit of love” (Today’s English Version [“Good News Bible”])
“If we live by the truth and in love” (Jerusalem Bible)
“let us speak the truth in love” (New English Bible)
“living the truth in love” (New American Bible with Revised New Testament)
Now, not all of these are the same provenance; but certainly all of them are faithful. All of them reflect the Greek: aletheuontes de en agape. But, they certainly see some nuance in understanding. Mark the difference, for example, between focus on verbal communication and on the spirit that motivates the speech, or the life that gives context to the speech. And other commentators see and apply the broader context. In my Arndt and Gingrich Greek-English Lexicon, the note is made of behaving “in such a way that the spirit of love is maintained.” In my Interpreter’s Bible, the commentator wrote, “The meaning of aletheuw is wider than this: it includes such senses as “apprehending the truth, “ “living by the truth,” “being true,” not only in speech but even more in the whole inward disposition.”
And in that light, I am saddened by some of what I read on Episcopal and Anglican blogs. Sure, some there are trying to disagree lovingly, even if they don’t always manage not being disagreeable. Most are there lovingly, trying to form an argument. But there are always those on both ends of any discussion who are simply into contradiction, and whose speech seems to carry little of the love to which we are called. To do that would require, I would think, some humility, and some sense that the other person is worthy of respect, even if a given opinion isn’t. Simple contradiction isn’t an argument; and playing “Gotcha!” can’t build up the body.
Moreover, in that light, what might I expect of the lives, the contexts, from which unloving speech arises? If the Greek carries beyond simple verbal assertion to encompass the life, the soul that speaks, what sort of person should I expect? Now, I’m the first to recognize that people are as truly themselves on line as they wish to be, and certainly no more. I cannot be certain of any person, based solely on what I read on the screen. At the same time, I think – I hope - that most of us in these conversations are trying to be honest, at least in the opinions we express; and not simply choosing our words to pick a fight, or to pick a scab.
In these Christian and specifically Episcopal and Anglican blogs, there are some discussions that can bring me to thought, to reflection, to be concerned for others and to honor others. I seek myself to speak the truth as I see it, as lovingly as I can – and still trying not to be disagreeable. For the exchanges I enjoy I will still seek to share thoughts on line with others, hoping all will “speak in love the truth they live.” And I do that knowing I’ll see some things that, all in the name of Christ, speak without any apparent love at all. It will make me sad. I can only wonder what Christ himself must think.
The fact is, there’s a lot to write about, just in keeping up with the day-to-day discussions on other people’s (busier) blogs, and trying to participate in a conversation. I mean, I’m certainly opinionated, and I enjoy laying my thoughts out; but it’s pretty dull without someone to talk back. I do get comments on many of my postings, and I appreciate every person who responds; but rarely has there been enough exchange to speak of a conversation. So, I go elsewhere, as Terry Jones, “coming in for an argument.”
That’s an argument, as in “An argument is a connected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.” And “An argument is a connected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.” Some of you will recognize that from the “Argument Clinic” sketch, Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Episode 29. Those who do will remember just how far in that quest Jones’s character actually got.
All of which is remarkably prophetic of the blogosphere. Oh, on a whole there are many folks making statements that go beyond simple assertion to actually make an argument. On the busier sites there can be participants in the conversations that want an argument, an exchange of ideas with opportunities for people to think, if not to be convinced. At the same time, there is an awful lot of assertion and contradiction our there pretending to be argument; and even those blog sites that do encourage many voices will have to put up with a significant measure of that. It becomes quite tiring, really.
Which is all the sadder, since the blogs I frequent are those of professing Christians, and specifically (usually) professing Episcopalians and Anglicans. I don’t know that those blogs are any better or worse than non- Episcopal and Anglican blogs, religious or otherwise. I only know that they do carry their share of blind assertion and contradiction and repetition adulterating, and sometimes overwhelming, efforts at argument.
That brings me to a comment I heard from my mother as I was growing up. I was instructed “to learn to disagree without being disagreeable.” I suppose often enough I was disagreeable, which usually meant loud and stubborn with an occasional moment of spite thrown in. And often enough I think my mother wanted me to be agreeable at the expense of my actually disagreeing. But in principle, the point was worthwhile: not to stop honest disagreement, but to present it calmly, rationally, or at least politely.
Now, that was frequently tied to the injunction from Ephesians 4:15 “to speak the truth in love.” I grew up in a culture that largely avoided emotional display, and in a household that largely avoided conflict. I suppose in that context it was not unexpected that “disagree without being disagreeable” and “speaking the truth in love” could sound a lot alike. It was also tied, in some mysterious way, with “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Yes, it made for some terrible mixed messages; but, well, there you are.
As I look at Episcopal and Anglican blogs, I find myself wrestling with what it means, “to speak the truth in love.” With that in mind, I did some digging, and found some variation in how different English translations have dealt with that phrase.
“But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.” (NRSV; RSV; NIV; KJV)
“we will speak the truth in love” (New Living Translation)
“Love should always make us tell the truth” (Contemporary English Version)
“we will lovingly follow the truth” (The Living Bible)
“we are meant to speak the truth in love” (Phillips Modern English)
“by speaking the truth in a spirit of love” (Today’s English Version [“Good News Bible”])
“If we live by the truth and in love” (Jerusalem Bible)
“let us speak the truth in love” (New English Bible)
“living the truth in love” (New American Bible with Revised New Testament)
Now, not all of these are the same provenance; but certainly all of them are faithful. All of them reflect the Greek: aletheuontes de en agape. But, they certainly see some nuance in understanding. Mark the difference, for example, between focus on verbal communication and on the spirit that motivates the speech, or the life that gives context to the speech. And other commentators see and apply the broader context. In my Arndt and Gingrich Greek-English Lexicon, the note is made of behaving “in such a way that the spirit of love is maintained.” In my Interpreter’s Bible, the commentator wrote, “The meaning of aletheuw is wider than this: it includes such senses as “apprehending the truth, “ “living by the truth,” “being true,” not only in speech but even more in the whole inward disposition.”
And in that light, I am saddened by some of what I read on Episcopal and Anglican blogs. Sure, some there are trying to disagree lovingly, even if they don’t always manage not being disagreeable. Most are there lovingly, trying to form an argument. But there are always those on both ends of any discussion who are simply into contradiction, and whose speech seems to carry little of the love to which we are called. To do that would require, I would think, some humility, and some sense that the other person is worthy of respect, even if a given opinion isn’t. Simple contradiction isn’t an argument; and playing “Gotcha!” can’t build up the body.
Moreover, in that light, what might I expect of the lives, the contexts, from which unloving speech arises? If the Greek carries beyond simple verbal assertion to encompass the life, the soul that speaks, what sort of person should I expect? Now, I’m the first to recognize that people are as truly themselves on line as they wish to be, and certainly no more. I cannot be certain of any person, based solely on what I read on the screen. At the same time, I think – I hope - that most of us in these conversations are trying to be honest, at least in the opinions we express; and not simply choosing our words to pick a fight, or to pick a scab.
In these Christian and specifically Episcopal and Anglican blogs, there are some discussions that can bring me to thought, to reflection, to be concerned for others and to honor others. I seek myself to speak the truth as I see it, as lovingly as I can – and still trying not to be disagreeable. For the exchanges I enjoy I will still seek to share thoughts on line with others, hoping all will “speak in love the truth they live.” And I do that knowing I’ll see some things that, all in the name of Christ, speak without any apparent love at all. It will make me sad. I can only wonder what Christ himself must think.
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