For those of you that know me well, you know I usually don't write anything this personal. But today this was an epiphany. Where I once was distraught, beat down, and dejected, I am now certain, resolute, and reenergized. I now know where I stand.
What I say I don't say lightly, and I don't know who else may feel this way. But this is my path, and I will follow it because I think it's right.
As some of you may know, in the past month our rector was forced to leave our parish. The circumstances were tragic, and the outcome unwanted by our parish. Ultimately, the decision was made by our new bishop. A decision made in a vacuum, without a single visit to our congregation, or, for that matter, any true relationship or attempt to make an informed decision. We were told this decision was done in our best interests by someone who doesn't even know us to know what our best interests are. Now, our rector is gone and we have only ourselves, the bishop, and the diocese to contend with as we begin the process of looking for a new rector. In the meantime, we have a revolving door of supply priests coming and going while we search for an interim rector (and the list of candidates is infuriatingly small).
It had left me in a bad way. Our rector's departure exposed all of the ugliness of the politics that I pretended weren't there. I've been left disillusioned, apathetic, angry, and a bit withdrawn. But most of all, I've been disgusted. Disgusted that this is the structure we, as human beings, have put into place to worship God. A God whose very nature is the opposite to this institution. This hypocrisy is the very reason I stopped going to church for 12 years.
So, Would I eventually stop coming again? Would that solve anything, or is it just running away from the problem so that it won't get to me? Normally, our previous rector would be there to say the right thing, like he oh so knows how to do, but this time I'm on my own.
Unless our supply priest makes me start thinking...
Today our supply priest somehow thought it wise to give a sermon on loss and suffering, considering our circumstances. His sermon was long winded and, at first, frustrating. At first he gave out a long list of the ways we might be feeling right now, angry, hurt, withdrawn, etc... yet he failed to mention mine: disgust. Disgust of a system that could allow this to happen. Contempt for an institution more concerned about its own rules self-perpetuation, and structure than in doing Christ's bidding. As he droned on and on, I drifted off into my own thoughts, and I began to wonder...
What do you do when Churchianity is ruining your Christianity?
Today, because of the rules and regulations set up by the Episcopal Church, we have turned to supply priests to perform the sacrament of Eucharist for us. For those of you who don't know, apparently, by Episcopal Church rules, only an ordained priest of the Episcopal or Lutheran Church is allowed to say the blessing and conduct the sacrament of communion. Somehow, anyone else's blessing of the bread and wine within the 4 walls of an Episcopal Church is null and void – only an Episcopal Church-approved priest can say the magic words.
Why is this? ...I'm not really sure myself. While some of the may argue tradition, or job security, or what have you, I believe anyone should be able to do it. It boils down to one thing: Who gives the ultimate authority of the sacrament of Euharist: God, or Men?
A few months ago, while our previous rector was away, our Sunday service was one without a priest, thus without communion. In what I saw as approprite irony, our reading from the Gospel was the story of the Pharisees inquiring of Jesus by whose authority he did his ministry. To this Jesus asked of them by whose authority did John the Baptist baptise, by God or by Men? The Pharisees, knowing John the Baptist was popular among the people, were in a quagmire. If they said “Men”, then John didn't have the authority, and the people would turn on them. If they said “God”, then they admitted their lack of authority on such matters. So they said “We don't know.” In turn Jesus said, “then know that by that same authority I minister.”
So here we were, not performing Eucharist because no one had the authority of MEN. Any one of us could have stepped in and performed the sacrament since deciding who can and cannot perform it are ultimately God's domain, not man's.
But we didn't go that path. We followed the Episcopacy's rules that day.
If only we had the conviction to listen to God's authority that day, what would have happened? We probably would have been in hot water with the diocese, and they would do quite a bit to make our lives uncomfortable to assure future compliance, and, once again, the need to preserve their institution would trump their commitment to follow the path of Christ. All in all, in this circumstance, following Christ's path is the dangerous one. Defying the diocesan insitution would exact retribution.
I personally wish we would have done it – performed communion that day. But why do I wish we'd done it? Was it so I could feel the satisfaction of thumbing my nose at them because I didn't like their decisions?
...Or was it because I thought doing it was the right thing to do in God's eyes?
I honestly wasn't sure, I would have felt rather good at defying them. I know I shouldn't but I'm no saint. So while I contemplated this, I tuned the supply priest back in. His sermon now dealt with our reading from Isaiah, in which the prophet encourages them not to despair or give up while in exile in Babylon. He noted that many of the changes in Judaism occurred during the exile. That these changes: their realization that they didn't need an heir of David as king, their new belief that God was the God of all people, not just of the Israelites, etc. came out of the exile. For the Jews, a great growth and transformation came out of their loss of home and their suffering in servitude. He then compared our situation to those once in exile, noting that this loss we have suffered will help us grow and transform. He then went on to tie this to Jesus, and how he also sought to transform the way we worship God, even to the point of suffering on the cross for that transformation to happen.
That was enough for me to tune him out and start thinking again. Surely, Jesus did quite a bit to disturb the Pharisees and religious scholars in power back then. And they sure did everything they could to stop him. They even killed him.
But did Jesus buck their system just for the satisfation of defying them, or because it was the right thing to do?
Worded this way, the answer was obvious – because his way was the right way. In my circumstance, my disgust for Churchianity was rooted in the fact that their way is wrong and out of a sense of principle I wanted to see it fail. When I wished we did our own communion that day, I realized I should want to do it because it was right. Also, I should take no satisfaction out of overcoming the shortcomings of other men. That feeling is no good, sinful you may say. If anything, I should pity them because they don't understand. My understanding has outgrown them, but I must never confuse this with any idea of superiority, for this is certainly not the case. We are all children of God. There are no favorites.
My dilemma was solved.
I told myself:
Don't defy the manifestations of Churchianity on these matters because you want to be a pain in their side. Do it because you think it is the right thing to do. If you're uncertain where your heart is, then stop! Think about your motives. Make sure they lie with God, not with your lesser desires. Oh, and one more thing: don't expect to make any friends this way. To go up against an institution like Churchianity is certainly a losing battle, and dangerous! Even Christ himself was killed by holy men for opposing them. There will be consequences.About this time I tuned the supply priest back in, he was talking about Jesus out in the wilderness, and compared our situation to being in the wilderness. But it seemed to me that his conclusion may have unintended consequences. He said that our time in the wilderness will be a time of great growth. And it just may be.
I think we may, as a community, outgrow our diocese. I know I have.
And that's dangerous.
Posts
