Listening

Whether or not you're Episcopalian, you are likely aware that we, in the words of my daughter and her teenage friends, "have issues." I realize that this does not make us a whole lot different than other denominational Christians. Being as how this is my branch of the Christian family tree, however, I tend to pay more attention to the details.

To recap: we've been getting a lot of press since 2003, when our national General Convention voted (in a contentious and far from unanimous manner) to approve the consecration of a partnered gay man as the bishop of the Diocese of New Hampshire. And we've been doing a lot of bickering-- at levels local, national, and international-- ever since.

A group of theological bigwigs got together and wrote a response to that action from the wider Anglican Communion (and the decision on the part of the Anglican Church in Canada to allow the blessing of same-sex unions), called the Windsor Report. Among its several comments was the suggestion that "in particular, we need to develop the habit, and thence the virtue, of that charity which listens intensely and with good will to widely different expressions of sincerely held Christian theology."

It reiterates the Lambeth Conference call, several years earlier, "for an ongoing process of listening and discernment, and that Christians of good will need to be prepared to engage honestly and frankly with each other on issues relating to human sexuality. It is vital that the Communion establish processes and structures to facilitate ongoing discussion."

Under the guidance of our bishop, that's what we've been doing in the Diocese of Northern Indiana. We've had a series of three day-long sessions here, termed in a lighthearted moment "the Merry Days of Windsor." Technically, we've been referring to them as "clergy days;" but this has been a misnomer, as lay leaders of the diocese have also been included. The first of these days dwelt on our understanding of hermeneutics - how one does biblical interpretation. AKMA was the presenter, and you can read on his blog Part I, Part II and Part III of what he had to say. The second day dealt with understanding ecclesiology, and the nature and structure of how the church functions through history. It was led by Fr. Richard McBrien, a Roman Catholic theologian from Notre Dame.

Last Wednesday was the third day in the series. It was not so academic as the other days were; but it was highly educational nonetheless. We had a panel of speakers, lay and ordained, who spoke to their experiences in life and in the church with these issues. Some were gay, and some were straight. Some had been blessed and supported in their Christian walk through the human sexuality minefield, while others had been abused, dismissed and mistreated. A gay man spoke frankly of the very real possibility of losing his job if his administration learned of his sexual preference. A priest spoke of being shut out of job searches, asked to step down from committees, and treated in really nasty ways after he wrote a letter questioning the authorization of same-sex unions. There was joy, and there was pain, experiencd by both "liberal" and "conservative," and they were shared openly and honestly.

And we listened.

I know we get typecast, over here in Hooiserland, as being some sort of conservative bastion; but it simply isn't so. Our people run the whole spectrum of political and theological opinion, in this issue as in so many others. We do not agree, and do not share a consensus. So why aren't we simply shouting at one another, as so often is happening? After all, we hear over and over (from people in both conservative and liberal dioceses) that "we couldn't possibly have that conversation here!"

What makes this work is we are trying to start with what we have in common: the good news of salvation found in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, offered to all who come to him; the Gospel imperative to love one another; and our baptismal covenant promise to "respect the dignity of every human being." So we have this conversation, and we listen to one another, and we pray and worship together. And we begin to understand that behind the issues... are people. We have not come to any conclusions, here; this is only a beginning. But we're working on it. And we're still coming to the Table, together.

I am sorry and ashamed to say that much of the rhetoric from our religious leaders (in the news both secular and ecclesial, in blogs and magazines and press releases and convention minutes) has more to do with power, and control, and "I'm right and you're going to hell," on both sides of the fence, than any desire to live out a life of discipleship. I am grateful to be a part of a place that is trying to live into a different call.