At Our Doorstep: Reflections on Luke 16:19-31

Have you ever known anybody rich? I mean, really rich? I’ve known a few. For all our demurring about those stereotypes of the Episcopal Church, you can’t spend time in more than a few Episcopal congregations without meeting someone. And between the number of dioceses in which I’ve served, and the number of supply services I’ve done over the years, I’ve met a few – maybe more than a few.

At the same time, I’ve never met anyone that rich, at least if you talk to them. That’s because almost every rich person I’ve ever known has known or known of someone who was richer – to hear them tell it, much richer – than them. Every local real estate magnate can compare himself with the regional banking family; who can compare themselves with Hearsts or Annenbergs; who can compare themselves with Buffets or Gates. I don’t know where Warren Buffets or Bill Gates go from there; but for almost anyone below them, there’s someone to compare to, someone who has more.

Jesus told a story of a rich man. In one sense, it doesn’t really matter how rich he was. The point was that he had enough and more – everything he needed, and perhaps all he could want. On his doorstep was a poor beggar, one Lazarus. He was poor and sick and suffering, unable to protect himself from even the petty assaults of stray dogs. And, as will we all unless the Kingdom comes first – as will we all, they died. The rich man, said Jesus, found himself in the fires of Hell. And yet somehow in the midst of his torment he was able to see into Paradise, and to see there Lazarus resting in peace in the bosom of Abraham. And when he called to Abraham for mercy, he learned that it was too late. And he learned that for all his concern for his brothers, they were responsible for themselves. They had their consciences, if they would pay attention; and they had the demands of Torah, if they would pay attention. And, said Abraham, if they wouldn’t pay attention to those, they weren’t terribly likely to pay attention, even if to someone who came back from the dead.

Now, we could talk about just how rich we are – but you’ve heard that sermon before. We know we’re rich, by the world standards. As Finion said to his daughter in the musical, “Finion’s Rainbow,” America has “the best ill-fed and the best ill-clad and the best ill-housed in all the world.” And yet we all know someone who’s richer.

So, I don’t think that’s the point, really. Rather, I think we need to pay attention to the fact that Lazarus was literally on the rich man’s doorstep. He longed for the scraps from the rich man’s sumptuous table – scraps he apparently didn’t get. The rich man could hardly have left his house without stepping over him, and yet it seems he never saw him. Right there on his doorstep; and he never showed mercy, never showed generosity, never showed kindness. Right there on his doorstep, and he never even saw him.

And so the question for me is, who’s on my doorstep? Now, I have to be careful before I answer. I have to stop and think where my doorstep ends. I have a blog – a web site where I post opinions and reflections literally for all the world to see. I also subscribe to an internet service that allows me to see where people are when they’re reading my blog. I find that an interesting service to use. It’s fun to see where my readers are. I can even pull up a map that shows where the last 10 or 20 readers read from. I can’t see who they are, but I can see the names of their internet services, and the cities they’re in.

Doing that, I’ve discovered I have some regular readers. I have couple, for example, in Berkeley, California. I have a couple in various places in Canada. But the ones that I find really intriguing are farther afield. I have a couple of readers in Australia. I even have a halfway regular reader in Yemen.

Now, that’s lots of fun; but it also brings me back to my question: where does my doorstep in? I have folks who read what I write, and sometimes answer back, around the world. Where does my doorstep end? And if, as it seems, my doorstep goes that far, it really expands who may be there, waiting for me to notice, waiting for me to care.

And if that’s true of me, let me ask that question of all of us, in terms of our daily lives.

• Politicians in Washington are arguing about health insurance for kids whose parents earn too much for Medicaid, but not enough to afford health insurance. Some of those kids are right here in Missouri. Where does our doorstep end?
• Our supermarkets have spinach from California, and strawberries from Mexico, and plums and grapes from Chile. Where does our doorstep end?
• The clothes we wear and the toys we give our children are made in China. Where does our doorstep end?
• American soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan and a host of other places. Where does our doorstep end?

It seems our doorstep stretches pretty far. And if it stretches that far, how many are there on our doorstep, waiting of us to notice and to respond?

Now, my guess is all of us are already responding in some way; and my point is not to disregard or discredit that. On the other hand, we can get complacent. Indeed, we can make our responses and still not see the people we might help. We can give in an abstract understanding that it’s better to give than to receive, and still not really notice the people we might give to. It’s not just about generosity for its own sake: it’s also about looking at our doorstep and actually paying attention to who’s there.

That’s the reason, really, that the General Convention on our behalf has embraced the Millennium Development Goals. It’s a recognition for our doorstep stretches literally around the world, and a way for us to show that we notice and we care. And if someone wants to complain that the Millennium Development Goals aren’t Biblical, aren’t Christian, remind him of this story, and ask where his doorstep ends.

Now, I don’t want to sell short generosity for its own sake, as it were. I don’t even want to sell short generosity just for the sake of avoiding hell. If that’s what moves you, and it actually moves you to action, well and good. I think God will bless our moral performance, even though he would prefer we do things for the right reason.

But it is important to know the right reason: concern and love for the person at our doorstep. We are those who know that God saw us on the doorstep, as it were, and came to show care – came to us in Christ, in a person we could hear and touch and love. So we are called to come in love to those at our doorstep, to show mercy and generosity certainly, but first of all to care.

The rich man had Lazarus at his doorstep, and as near as we can tell he never noticed. We are called to notice, to notice and to care as God in Christ has cared for us. We’re called to see those at our doorstep, to see their need, and to respond in love. So, where does your doorstep end?

Another Chaplain Fired; But....

Well, “what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,” I suppose. It seems Chaplain Kay Myers has been fired from her position with Peninsula Regional Medical Center for not participating in a hospital’s program to allow members of the Gideons to provide copies of the New Testament and Psalms for patient rooms. It was reported on this blog, which has a helpful link to this news story.

Having noted the case of Chaplain Danny Harvey who lost his position because of complaints and concerns that he wasn’t sufficiently sensitive to non-Christians, I had to note the case of Chaplain Myers as well. Her experience is that she was fired for being too concerned about non-Christians. She was concerned that providing unrestricted access of Gideons to rooms to place these New Testaments represented favoring Christians. She also raised concerns about patient privacy under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), and about infection control.

In the Episcopal hospital and health care system in which I function, we provide a Bible (both Testaments, but without Apocrypha) in each room. On the other hand, this is a religious hospital, a difference which would, for Chaplain Myers, make a difference. My infection control officer has never raised an issue with their placement.

However, our Bibles are purchased, and not provided by the Gideons. That is in part to have a version of Scripture that the Gideons to not provide. It is also in part to maintain control of access to patients. Gideons are not permitted unlimited access to patients (or, for that matter, to staff) any more than any other ministers, lay or ordained. Gideons, bless them, are explicitly focused on evangelism, if through the indirect, largely non-confrontational method of providing Bibles in places where people might have time on their hands. But even that indirect method expresses an intent that we can’t support here; so we purchase the Bibles we provide to patients.

Chaplain Myers’ suggestion that materials be retained in the Chaplain’s office, and only provided at request, has its merits, and especially in a non-religious community hospital setting. In our system we have some materials that are available by request, simply because they represent tiny constituencies within our patient population. We have the materials, and will get materials, because those patients are important, but don’t try to provide them house-wide.

The response to Chaplain Harvey’s firing was a protest march. Response to Chaplain Myers’ firing has been largely verbal, and as near as I can tell on blogs of non-Christians. They highlight the story because their concern is precisely the fear of being subject to proselytizing. For them, this is about the protection they want, the protection and privacy that Chaplain Myers wanted to insure.

This is, I suppose, an expression that there is some balance in our culture. At the same time, it’s disturbing to me that Chaplain Myers received no clear response to her HIPAA and infection concerns. I think the administration might have had reasonable responses; but they were never made. In the meantime, I wonder how often this happens: how often someone loses for not being evangelical Christian enough. The evangelical Christian press and bloggers insure that when an evangelical Christian minister is affected by our pluralist culture we hear about it. How often does it happen the other way? And how would we know?

On Wordsmithing and Clarity

In all the reaction to the statement from the meeting of the Episcopal House of Bishops in New Orleans, I was struck particularly by this quote in the Boston Globe’s report:

"What we were looking for was clarity, and what we got is an exercise in wordsmithing," said Robert Lundy, spokesman for the American Anglican Council, an alliance of conservatives. "Overall, we feel disappointment."

On any day, and especially on this feast of Lancelot Andrewes, it seems odd and a bit sad to criticize “wordsmithing.”

I appreciate that Mr. Lundy and many who agree with him are disappointed; although I hardly imagine they are surprised. They did not hear stated what they wanted to hear – what they wanted to hear in blunt and unambiguous terms.

However, the contrast here is not really between “clarity” and “wordsmithing.” In fact clarity in this case, as in many cases, requires wordsmithing. Certainly, accuracy does. The bishops are not of identical minds, even if they are largely in agreement. They recognize that the parishioners they serve are not of identical minds. They also recognize that those who are listening are not of identical minds, and so wish to hear not the simplest statement from the bishops, but the statement that describes with most precision the minds of the bishops and the dynamics of the Episcopal Church; and precision requires careful, thoughtful choices of terms – wordsmithing.

Indeed, the most important positions taken through the history of the Church have been exercises in wordsmithing. I referred to blessed Lancelot Andrewes, he whose talents with poetry and prose so enriched our Biblical heritage and our homiletical treasure. But he was only one in a long line. The final statements of the Ecumenical Councils were all careful exercises in wordsmithing. The struggles over an iota, between homoousios and homoiousios, could legitimately be described as wordsmithing – wordsmithing that was necessary for us to state accurately our understanding of the Incarnation.

Each generation of the Book of Common Prayer from 1549 forward has been an exercise in wordsmithing. Our prayers and praises were carefully worded to express clearly, but not over-simply, how we saw God working in the Church, and how God expected us to respond. We continue as heirs of that tradition, even as we engage in wordsmithing in our own times to express our praises well in the dialect of each new generation.

And certainly we expect wordsmithing of our preachers. We appreciate that careful choice of words, that turn of phrase, that enlightens us to the Gospel and sets the Word anew in our memories. That’s not a matter of piling word on word most of the time. Preaching that is simple can be elegant. But we know those sermons that come out as a muddle, with poor preparation and poorer presentation. We know that they need careful work, careful wordsmithing.

In the case in point, in fact the statement from the House of Bishops appears to me to be wordsmithing to bring clarity, rather than to hide it. They worked to say precisely what they intended: they did not make promises they did not feel they could keep, and they affirmed all that they felt they needed to affirm. It was a statement that left many unsatisfied at both poles of the argument; but it was hardly unclear. Indeed, the details provide precision, while providing a statement on which almost all could agree.

So, yes, it was wordsmithing; but wordsmithing for the sake of clarity and precision and unity, and not of obfuscation. You see, not all differences are simple; certainly, this one isn’t. And when simple answers are provided to complex questions, they are almost certainly wrong.

Where Brainstorming Might Take You

What an interesting thought! Today Kendall Harmon has suggested that Bishops of the Episcopal Church might voluntarily choose not to participate in the next Lambeth Conference. Father Jake has suggested that this might be worth considering.

I think so, too. That's why I suggested it back when March I started brainstorming for the bishops. In that post, I suggested withdrawing with these reasons:

Third, the House of Bishops might decide as a body that American bishops will voluntarily withdraw from the next Lambeth Conference, just as we voluntarily withdrew from the last meeting of the Anglican Consultative Council. This should be balanced with a decision not to withdraw from the next or future meetings of the ACC or from meetings of the Primates. I think this would have value for a number of reasons.

• It would define our withdrawal in terms of our interest in mission and peace, and not in someone else’s terms of “discipline.” It would include our understanding that this was not rejection of the Communion, that we were choosing to “fast for a season,” and not to “walk apart.”
• It would get the Archbishop of Canterbury off the hook well ahead of a crisis, without requiring him to refuse to invite any or all of our bishops. While it is unclear just how much Archbishop Williams agrees with actions of General Convention, allowing others to continue to pressure him does not serve us. While he might or might not be grateful (at least publically), that’s not the point. It shows respect for his office and our own emotional security by refusing to participate in a tug of war for paternal recognition.
• It would pressure possibly schismatic bishops within the Episcopal Church to declare themselves. If the House has expressed its mind that no Episcopal bishop will attend Lambeth, any bishop who participates demonstrates decision to leave the House. Those who are committed to reconciliation, to remaining the loyal opposition within the House, will be willing to share in this fast for that purpose.
• It will save a lot of money. I’m not suggesting we shouldn’t contribute to supporting the Lambeth Conference, paying for all those other bishops to attend. I think we should. Our dioceses will still save a lot of money for mission in not paying the expenses of our bishops. Paying for others while not attending ourselves follows the Gospel model of going the extra mile. It may also “heap coals of fire....”
• While there is risk that Lambeth without our bishops will make statements and take positions that we cannot accept, no one will be able to claim our bishops were complicit. Indeed, it will be hard to declare any position as “the standard of teaching for the Communion” if such a large segment of the bishops of the Communion do not participate. Considering that our bishops are a minority at Lambeth, such statements may be expected if we do attend. This would at least undermine the air of dignity and authority of such statements.
• Declaring early that this is under consideration will give others in the Communion to express their feelings about our participation in Lambeth. Some bishops in the Global South have expressed willingness to see us excluded, however that willingness might be qualified. It would be interesting to hear whether others had a commitment to seeing us included.

I still think it's worth at least talking about. I think some measure of this is the different perspectives that thought of it. This is one of those ideas that different individuals have come up with independently - one of those moments when interested minds (I won't claim "great" for myself) thought alike (certainly, I have enough respect for Kendall Harmon that if he'd known of my work he'd have given credit). The different points of view involved, and the somewhat different contexts in which the idea arose, suggest that at least it's worth turning over. Now, as to whether there's time for the Bishops to actually work with something like this at this meeting - I don't know. On the other hand, one advantage to Kendall having this thought is that he has more connections through which to share such a thought. We'll see what happens.

Who's Calling the Game? Part 2; or More Cowboy Poker

I’m not inclined to give any summary of where the House of Bishops or the Anglican Communion is today. I think we’re entirely too inclined to overinterpret individual and preliminary opinions, and to overreact. That said, there have been some quotes today that have gotten my attention.

First, from the address to the House of Bishops of the Rt. Rev. Mouneer Anis, Bishop of Egypt and Presiding Bishop of the Anglican Province of Jerusalem and the Middle East (with thanks to BabyBlue):

“With respect, I have to say that those who would prefer to speak of laws and procedures, constitutions and canons, committees and process: you are missing the point! It is our mutual loyalty and fellowship, submitting to one another in the common cause of Jesus Christ that makes us of one Church on faith and one Lord.”

But, then, what of those who would make laws of Lambeth Resolutions; or procedures of the Windsor Report; or canons of Primates’ Communiques? We are wary of “submission,” having found our distinction from the Church of England in a political rejection of “submission;” but isn’t the same true of almost every Province in the Anglican Communion? And how shall we respond when we are asked specifically to submit to cultural norms outside our province when we have not asked any to submit to the cultural norms of ours?

Sitting around the table requires humility from all of us. One church cannot say to the rest of the churches "I know the whole truth, you don't". Sitting around one table requires that each one should have a clear stance before the discussion starts. It also requires true openness and willingness to accept the mind of the whole.

Sitting around the table does indeed require humility; and so the Episcopal Church has been at pains to distinguish accepting us and participating with us in the Communion from emulating us. Sitting around the Lord’s Table need not require a clear stance; for who of us truly understands the mystery of the Lord’s presence among us, incarnate as a man or in the elements of bread and wine? Rather, what it requires is a willingness to share, trusting that it is the Lord, and not us, who makes things right, It might even require willingness to accept the mind of the whole; but no mind of the whole has been reached on these issues, in the Episcopal Church, much less in the whole Communion.

And sitting around the table requires time. A thorough process of open and respectful listening can’t be rushed. Full sharing among all provinces, and among all orders of ministry, resulting in some “mind of the whole.” and received through the constitutional processes of the various provinces of the Communion can’t be accomplished in one year, or two, or even three. We are deceived these days by how rapidly we can communicate text into imagining that meaningful consensus can be achieved in one news cycle or perhaps two. We must not fall prey to cries of haste and urgency from those who fear any “mind of the whole” other than what they already project.

From General Convention Resolution 1991-B020:

Resolved. That the Office of the Presiding Bishop now be directed to propose to all provinces of the Anglican Communion and all churches with whom we are in ecumenical dialogue that a broad process of consultation be initiated on an official pan-Anglican and ecumenical level as a bold step forward in the consideration of these potentially divisive issues which should not be resolved by the Episcopal Church on its own.

Perhaps it seems anachronistic to include this in quotes of the day. However, this resolution was cited in two resolutions proposed for consideration by the House of Bishops at this meeting: one by Bishop Jenkins of Louisiana, with an accompanying letter with his and seven other bishops’ signatures; and another remarkably similar resolution from four bishops. (Bishop Geralyn Wolf was the one person apparently involved in both resolutions.)

If we have been committed to consultation on “an official and pan-Anglican and ecumenical level” since 1991, what happened? If Lambeth Resolution 1998- 1.10 called for listening, and the Windsor Report called for a listening process, what happened? I wonder if we’ve been trying to consult for years, only to be met with disinterest by those who assumed (or hoped) it would never really come up.

Excerpts from a phone interview with Archbishop Peter Akinola by Ruth Gledhill:

[Archbishop Akinola] said he had received an unofficial response to his and his bishops' request that the Archbishop of Canterbury postpone the Lambeth Conference. 'He has not written officially. But all the indications are that Rowan Williams has firmly anchored his hope in the Lambeth Conference. He seems to believe firmly that the Lambeth Conference is the solution.

'We believe very differently. We have told him quite clearly that there is no point in coming together in a climate of fear and distrust when bishops cannot be in communion with each other. We felt we should first have healing and then rejoice together at Lambeth. Apparently, he thinks differently. We have done quite a lot to save the communion. But if it does not want us, we will stay away. We do not believe it is appropriate for us to come together with other bishops when we are in broken communion.'

He said the 'revisionists' [his word, not mine!] would all meet at Lambeth. 'There are many people in the UK and from America who are of the same mind as us. They will then be forced to think what to do. We keep on praying that Dr Rowan, who we love very much and keep on praying for every day for God's guidance and God's wisdom, we still believe that somehow he will resume with us and do what we ask him. Should he refuse to the end, we might have to call our meeting.'

What meeting would this be? It would be the successor to the first, second and third 'Trumpets' of the Global South, the last in Egypt in 2005. Dr Akinola said: 'We might just call a meeting to blow the Fourth Trumpet about the future of the Anglican Communion.' Would this be in 2008, in July, by any chance? He could not confirm this. He will be consulting with colleagues.

So, Archbishop Akinola will have a meeting to suit his ecclesiological temper; and if it won’t be at Lambeth it will be at a place chosen by him and those who agree with him. It would certainly not include the Episcopal Church, at least not without significant changes in tenor of the House of Bishops and the Executive Council (although I suspect Archbishop Akinola simply disdains the latter). It would probably not include the Anglican Church of Canada, or the Episcopal Church of Scotland, or the Province of Wales, and perhaps others. And what of the Church of England?

And the final word is from the Archbishop of Canterbury:

From his prepared statement as he ended his visit with the House of Bishops:

Despite what has been claimed there is no “ultimatum” involved. The Primates asked for a response by 30 September simply because we were aware that this was the meeting of the House likely to be formulating such a response. The ACC and Primates Joint Standing Committee will be reading and digesting what the Bishops have to say, and shall let me know their thoughts on it early next week. After this I shall be sharing what they say, along with my own assessments, with the Primates and others, inviting their advice in the next couple of weeks. I hope these days will result in a constructive and fresh way forward for all of us.

From the question and answer period:

[David] Virtue: You have been asked to postpone the Lambeth Conference, in particular by the Archbishop of Nigeria. What do you say to this suggestion?

ABC: It is not only from their quarter, others have asked the same. I am not persuaded. I am not sure that we could ever define what an adequate “cooling off period” could look like. I do not want the next years spent in anxiety about when and whether Lambeth will occur.

New York Times: Archbishop. The address that +Anis gave the HOB today states in clear terms what some primates expect. I wanted to ask how reflective that message is of what came out of DES. Do you sense any room for compromise on the Communion side?

ABC: The primates said the DES is the place to start. Some would give a more robust interpretation some less. That is the nature of a communiqué with common language. It has been represented sadly as a set of demands and deadlines. It was not that way. We are inevitably in a position of compromise. It would be a mistake to see DES as questions that must be answered without room for maneuver.

So, the Communique from Dar es Salaam did not include an ultimatum, despite the “more robust” interpretation of some (on both sides, whether from eagerness or fear), nor a “set of demands.” Rather, they were, as he at least has said all along, steps on the process of listening and discernment.

And Lambeth is the same. It is a part of the process, a time for all to come together, rather than the arena for accomplishing, or celebrating, the “resolution” that Archbishop Akinola longs for.

I have elsewhere described Archbishop Williams’ actions in the past few years as “cowboy poker.” He agrees, as do all of us, with Bishop Anis that this is about “sitting together at the table.” He appreciates, however, and more than many, that it is his table. (And let’s not get distracted about statements about “the Lord’s Table.” The Lord’s Table is not limited to the Anglican Communion, but is also in Rome and Constantinople and Alexandria and Armenia – and Geneva, too, for that matter. We are talking now about internal Anglican matters.) It is Canterbury’s table, and it is his presence that establishes it. He is determined not to leave the table, whatever betide; and he’s waiting to see who has the patience and determination to stay at the table with him, difficulties and differences and all. His game is to see how long folks will stay with him at the table, even if the discussion is long, and long unclear; and those will lose who lose patience and walk away.