Unity and Hospitality

The headline in the July 11 Convention Daily reads, Restraint, or welcome by the Episcopal Church? Several articles the Daily discuss issues surrounding community and the church. How can we be a united body when we disagree? Are there limits to our hospitality? Who is welcomed and who is not? Who decides?

While much of the discussion at General Convention surrounds the inclusion of gays and lesbians in the church (especially focused on the consecration of bishops) these are not the only people who struggle to be fully included. There is an article about young adults finding their place and voice in the church and another about the consent of the newly elected Bishop of Central Ecuador.

For all of the legislation that is being discussed and adopted at General Convention, the most important discussions happening over the 10 days of convention are the ones about issues that are difficult, if not impossible, to legislate. How open and inclusive will we be? What lines will be drawn? Can we be both inclusive -- allowing for the diversity that creates -- and unified?

The Rt. Rev. Barbara Harris, the first consecrated woman bishop in the Episcopal Church, asked this question in her sermon during the Integrity Eucharist on July 10: "What right does anyone have to draw lines beyond to whom God's grace, care, and favor extend?" I believe she gets at the heart of the tension here. Who has the right? Who draws the lines? And where are the lines drawn, if at all? Do we draw them at ordination? Do we draw them at baptism?

Richard Hooker, the 16th century Anglican priest and theologian, wrote that there were two churches, the invisible and the visible. The invisible church is the one only God can see for only God can look truly into our hearts to see who is faithful. The visible church is the one we can see. Since we are not able to see into people's hearts and souls, we must be as open and comprehensive as possible, making sure the boundaries of the church are as wide as they can be. Since we are not God, we are not the ones who can close the doors and put up the fences that separate us.

Hospitality and welcome are risky. To be truly open means that we must accept and welcome those who differ from us. It means we must accept others as our brothers and sisters in Christ, not based on agreement or similarity but on our common faith in Jesus. Unity, then, comes out of our relationship through Christ, not out of our agreement and similarity.

I'm not sure what will come out of convention, but I hope that in the midst of our congregational life we can open wide our doors and our hearts. Let's not try to be God by drawing the lines of what and who is acceptable. Let's practice love and hospitality, not by drawing lines but by creating openings in the boundaries so all those who seek God's grace, care, and favor can find it with us.

How Do We Find Unity in the Midst of Animosity and Division

The current tenor of the presidential campaign has become disturbing. Negative political campaigning is not new in the United States. Historians can point back to the early 19th century to find negative (and untrue) claims made about opponents.

This year feels different and, in ways, frightening. On the one side we hear angry outbursts against Barack Obama at Republican rallies, including reports of people yelling "Kill him!" On the other side, people at Democratic rallies boo when they hear John McCain's name and some are accusing McCain of being the next George Wallace.

These reactions are caused to some extent by current political ads and accusations. According to an article in today's Wall Street Journal online edition ("Hopes Quickly Fade for a Postpartisan Era"), Democrats are accusing the McCain campaign of character assassination and Republicans are increasing security at campaign offices because of acts of vandalism and intimidation by Obama supporters.

While the line between reality and misperception is very blurry here, I believe the cause of so much unrest runs deeper than the current political campaign. Both the campaign and the uncertain times in which we live stoke the fire of fear and anxiety about the unknown or the unfamiliar. The still burning embers of discrimination and prejudice kindles the rage and hopelessness that can make some feel trapped while they watch others prosper.

Pollster Peter Hart, quoted in the article referenced above, asks a profound question: "How do you knit a nation back together with this kind of animosity?"

I'd really like to answer this question by pointing to the Church. Perhaps you might remember that old song which I sang growing up, "They will know we are Christians by our love." For years I said that one of the characteristics I appreciated about Anglicans was our willingness and ability to hold together a variety of theological and doctrinal perspectives within a common practice of worship and community. I believed the Anglican Communion stood as a witness of unity to the rest of the Church and the world.

For anyone who has been paying attention the past few years, the Anglican Communion is hardly a witness of unity. Anglicans seem to be caught in the same cycle of fear, anxiety, anger, and accusation that characterizes the presidential campaign. I'd like to claim that we are at least a bit more polite when we point the finger at "the other side" but I'm not sure that's true.

Paraphrasing Archbishop Desmond Tutu (who once wrote of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict that he was not optimistic about peace but, because of his Christian faith, he was hopeful), I'll write here that I'm not optimistic about how we knit our nation together or how we restore the Anglican Communion ... but I am hopeful.

My hope is found not in the larger society or communion, but in my local congregation. In a recent forum discussion on a Sunday morning a group of parishioners and I listed the variety of ways we are diverse here in Exeter. While on the surface most of us look the same (this part of New Hampshire is about 96% white) when we dig deeper we find a great many differences in background, family status, economic status, worldviews, and theological perspectives (just to name a few).

Despite our differences, we seem to have found a way to be in community with each other. I'd love to list the reasons for that, but I'm not sure I can, not in a simple way at least. In a variety of ways we manage to hold together the community while also remaining open to what is new and possible. We both maintain the boundaries and live inclusively. We are certainly not perfect and we have had our low points. People have come into the community and people have left. Through it all, we just keep trying.

So, how do you knit a nation back together with this kind of animosity?

I always find these words from the letter to the Colossians a helpful reminder.

As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (Colossians 3:12-17)

What might happen if we lived this way? What difference might it make? I'm not sure I'm optimistic, so I'll stick with hope. And next time I'm in conversation with someone with whom I disagree, I'll start trying to follow these words myself.