My middle name is Bulkeley. I’m told that one of my ancestors was a Peter Bulkeley. Family legend has it that he was a judge in Connecticut in the old days when people lived purely — and hanged witches. In his very courtroom he saw those so accused pleading for their lives. He handed down sentences of death. How many suffered at his hands — or by his direction — I do not know. Family legend has it that at the end of his life he repented — before HE died but after the damage was done. I wonder, then, how often and in how many generations do we have to make the same mistake?
I had posted one bit on General Convention already — when the new Presiding Bishop was elected. After the Convention certain people said certain things, and I was dismayed. I got angry. Part of me said, ‘Don’t stoop so low as to get into this fight.’ The other part said I have to — if only to lend support to the young person contemplating self-destruction because he thinks he might be gay. There’s no way I’ll stand by idly while another destroys himself with the blessings of perceived church and culture. My doing nothing in this instance would be tantamount to abetting the mendacity.
After the election of the new Presiding Bishop, General Convention struggled with resolutions concerning sexuality and past behavior of The Episcopal Church involving sexuality. Of course they did a whole lot more, and all of my information is second or third hand, so expect me to be poorly informed. I have only seen what articles I have found on the web or that people have emailed to me. Any facts I cite stand to be corrected. …But…, from what I can tell…, all of the actions or inactions around the issue of sexuality stem from the presence of homosexuals in The Church and the various reactions (liberal or conservative or whatever) to that presence. Further, the reactions are inclusive or exclusive — depending on whether one approves or disapproves of that presence of those people perceived to be homosexual or self-identified as homosexual. In other words, the issue of sexuality — or the issues of sexuality — however they manifest themselves in specific resolutions, all boil down to the central issue of inclusion.
Also, much of the pressure brought to bear upon General Convention came from outside The Episcopal Church in The United States and included many Anglicans (and others) from around the world. A lot was riding on whatever decisions might come out of General Convention — consequences far beyond the geographic boundaries of The United States. Whatever General Convention were to decide would offend somebody. General Convention, being General Convention, did nothing — or didn’t do, one way or another, what many people hoped it would do. As far as I can see, nothing has changed canonically. Perhaps there’s a keener alertness to the elections to the Episcopate. The politics may be changing. I have no idea about that. The canons remain the same. That is, constituent dioceses elect their own bishops. The House of Bishops affirms or rejects. What else is new? What is most striking (and heartening) to me is that while Episcopalians (many, anyway) made all kinds of statements of empathy and sorrow, intended to pacify their critics, General Convention did not undo much of what has been accomplished over the years concerning the inclusivity of ‘The Other’ — in this instance the Gay People. Certainly General Convention did not lay down in the dirt, don sackcloth, smear ashes, grovel, repent, or beg forgiveness.
I AM disappointed by General Convention. From where I sit, then, General Convention could have improved on the good work already begun. It chose, rather, to stall. I think that some may have thought that would pacify Peter Akinola and his crowd. It won’t. Or, maybe it will for a minute — but not for long. They will demand repentance and the mending of the ways and so on and so forth — and complete agreement with their particular lunacy. They’ll never get it from the likes of me. Slowing the process down does give people time to talk — and think. That might be a good thing. Maybe the American Church just needs to educate the rest of Church people at home and abroad about what this fight is about. Maybe, in time, those of good will and good sense will see the wisdom of the American Anglican — or Episcopal — Church. In the mean time we read about the likes of Matthew Shepherd. And “Brokeback Mountain” continues to be a documentary of current events. That’s the cost of General Convention’s inaction. Make no mistake about it.
More generally, the American Christian multi-denominational establishment — such as it is — has been hijacked by hucksters and maniacs who have managed to ensconce parasites and imbeciles into public office through fraudulent elections. Maybe the American Imperial Culture really is in decline. And maybe one of the very few lights in the darkness is General Convention. Perhaps that light sometimes flickers only dimly. At least it’s not out completely — yet — as we stand at the abyss. I am hopeful for those who define themselves outside the main stream of their culture — just as I am hopeful for the dream that once was American. But I am not optimistic.
And the fight is about a lot more than sex. But, first, anyway, the sex. … (There are at least two realms of issues that have nothing to do with sexuality, although the controversy over sexuality is used in some quarters to exploit them. One set of issues, of course, relates to a workable hermeneutic. I’ve found “Christ Is The Question” by Wayne A. Meeks — especially the final two chapters — especially helpful. The second set of issues relates to the polity of The Anglican Communion and how The Episcopal Church in the USA and the dissidents fit into that. There is a letter from The Bishop of Florida to his diocese that helped me think more into that set of issues. I found the letter in the Blog from the Diocese of Washington.)
Some might say that the issue simply is about the inclusion of gay people in The Church — the question being: At what level might they be included? Or, Should they be included at all? In whatever way a parish, a diocese, or General Convention might respond to those questions, that response will influence or even determine decisions about whether to support the ordination of clergy living with members of the same gender or who identify themselves as ‘gay’, to elect such clergy to The Episcopate, or to bless ‘Gay Unions’, or countenance Holy Matrimony as an option for those of the same gender. In other words, along these lines of inquiry, a positive response to Gay People in The Church is a response of inclusion, for many, based on a passion for social justice. I certainly would applaud that response. And I have these further reflections on the issue of justice and Gay People in the church.
Whatever the response — whether positive or negative or nothing — it is a response. Doing nothing is a response. It is a response once the issue is on the table — as it has been now for decades. And that’s why I won’t do nothing.
I see the place of gay people as analogous to the place of Jewish people or Native people — or any people dispossessed or excluded by another people who are in greater number and of greater (physical) power. Not that these different out-groups always tolerate each other — or anyone else — for that matter. There is something about human beings that does this. Maybe it’s a survival technique from way back — when we were fighting over water holes and hunting grounds. Maybe that’s what’s going on as we fight over the oil or some day, again, the water. Regardless of my identity or your identity — or however we may be inclined to define that identity — there are groups of us that explicitly exclude groups of others. There’s always a justification offered. And the justification always fits the standards and specifications of the times. (Someone — a lot of people, in fact — actually believe the justification; they would have to in order for it to work.) But however fulsome or righteous or rational such argument may be, eventually, such justification implodes, because of its own internal rot and because people have (finally) woken up to its poverty and dysfunction. The questions for The Episcopal Church or any other morally sensitive organization are: Does it want to lend its support to the exclusion or to the inclusion? Does it want to be out in front and leading? Does it want to be tagging along behind, playing it safe and picking up the refuse left by others? Whatever it does, it is accountable to those whom it is called to serve and to God. And it can learn from its past, if it cares to look.
I am influenced by two categories of things. One thing is that I know of too many who have died because of the context this exclusion and bigotry foments. And, secondly, I am reminded of what some others have written.
I don’t have the books in front of me. And the argument may well have come up in other literature. And I probably have the details wrong. …But I have long pondered Raul Hilberg’s thesis — or one of them — ever since I first stumbled across it in “The Destruction of the European Jews.” It relates to anti-semitism and the roots of The Holocaust. That is to say, The Holocaust, while it was the work of a specific government in a specific era, began to be thought about and began to be talked about long before. Hilberg says somewhere that there was nothing particularly new or different about what the Nazis did. They simply were more efficient. That’s one of the really chilling elements of his presentation, because what he means, as I understand him, is that it all could happen again — with the right set of circumstances. In his book he delineates a process. And the process happened in all kinds of ways. And it continues to happen.
Well, if the roots of The Holocaust have a beginning, where is it? Hilberg begins his description of the process by noting the criticism of The Jews on account of their beliefs. Of course there were many critics long before the Christians came along. But the Christians were keen on the possibility of the conversion of the Jews to Christianity. Portions of the New Testament can be read in the light of that expectation of conversion and frustration where the conversion did not take place. Perhaps such passages as Matthew 27:25 can be read in that light. At the least of it Christians have always had trouble with Jews. And that trouble is documented in their very Scripture. At first, they tried to convert Jews to Christianity. And that attempt and expectation failed.
Despite all their efforts Christians did not convert all the Jews. The next phase in Hilberg’s thesis, then, was that Jews were expelled from certain areas. Or they were concentrated in certain areas. This happened all the way from the middle ages through to Nazi Germany.
But again that was frustrating to the now larger and more powerful group of Christians. And Jews were murdered in different places, at different times, in different numbers — whether few or many.
The Nazis, then, picked up on the spirit of the times which had now been nurtured for centuries and perfected the mechanized, depersonalized process of murder. The conversation that started all of this began in a documented way in Christian Scripture. That is to say, in the end, the major apology for the destruction of The Jews in Europe came from the Christian Church. I don’t see any way around that assertion.
And all through the Holocaust — even while the excesses of the bigotry were obvious — the Church did nothing — or next to nothing. And, no action is a particular kind of action, as I have already asserted. This is particularly true in the case of the Jews and The Church, because The Church had argued in its own Scripture the case against the Jews and never really retracted that argument. Once the implications of that argument became clear — with the Nazi Holocaust — the Church, on the whole, did not object. In the light of that, it stands condemned — and not simply in Germany.
Now, generations later, there is a conversation. Church leaders are sorrowful over what happened. And perhaps our present day repentance will save our souls. But that isn’t bringing the murdered folk back to life.
Similarly, the North Atlantic Slave Trade was centered in three of the Rhode Island ports — Providence, Bristol, and Newport. The loss of life in the North Atlantic Slave Trade was far more extensive than the loss of life in The Holocaust. Yet, only recently are we mounting an inquiry into that human catastrophe. It is encouraging that General Convention reportedly revisited the North Atlantic Slave Trade through the eyes of the DeWolf family — a family that figures significantly in the history of The Episcopal Church in the American Northeast. Again, we who have benefitted from our ancestors’ wealth in the Northeast may be moved to repentance for what they did and for what they and we were never held accountable. When Abolitionists first spoke up in 19th century America, they were in the minority. Like any minority they were dismissed, ridiculed, and judged morally inferior. The Episcopal Church remained silent for a long time.
The Church has known epochs of silence in the face of great injustice. Generations have gone by before The Church really admitted to itself what it had done — often by deliberately doing nothing. Often our realization of our injustices comes to us as our own consciousness is raised and our own personal conscience sensitized. This, I believe, is what is going on in The Episcopal Church. The progress is tortuously slow. The journey — in this day and age — is crucially important. There are lives hanging in the balance. You would think we could learn. For what and to Whom are we accountable?
Many good people argue that playing for time is a good thing for General Convention to do — in order to keep the Anglican Communion together and hopefully to share some of these concerns to good effect with others less sensitized to the issues. I can see that. But I don’t see that as an argument for doing what is wrong. And doing nothing is doing something wrong. It has come to that — for The Episcopal Church.
By now, if you disagree with me you may be grinding your teeth, though, probably, you haven’t read this far. Don’t worry, it only gets worse. Your argument is that that any sexual behavior outside the covenant of holy matrimony is wrong. Why? Because the Bible says so. In reply, I say, reducing Scripture (of any faith) to simple do’s and don’ts like that does the Scripture and the Faith it expresses no respect and renders false witness. It renders false witness, because it puts words in Scripture’s mouth and denies the complexity both of the formation and also of the expression of Scripture. In a word it avoids reality: the reality of what happened, the reality of what was said, the reality of what that might mean today. And, if you are a person of faith: the reality of God’s Word in the present generation.
… Which brings me to the point of this meditation on General Convention. It isn’t about sex or sexuality. Those sets of issues are incidental to what is going on.
The basic issues, then, are in two sets.
- First: How do we read our Scripture? How does that reading illuminate the examination of our past? How does that examination enable us to perceive accurately the reality of our present?
- Second: Who do we identify as ‘The Other’? What do we do about whomever so identified? And, Why?
General Convention will have an opportunity to come around to these quandaries again in three years. Perhaps, by then, they and the rest of us will have grown a little. There always is hope. But it’s an up-hill journey for all of us and thankless for many. Still, it’s the right thing to do.