Climate change prayer

Holy God,
earth and air and water are your creation,
and every living thing belongs to you:
have mercy on us
as climate change confronts us.

Give us the will and the courage
    to simplify the way we live,
    to reduce the energy we use,
    to share the resources you provide,
    and to bear the cost of change.

Forgive our past mistakes and send us your Spirit,
    with wisdom in present controversies
    and vision for the future to which you call us
in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

©Anglican Church of Australia Trust Corporation. Used by permission This text may be reproduced for use in worship in the Anglican Church of Australia

What others are doing

Jason offers a pastoral reflection upon the Christchurch earthquake.

Kate summarises why climate change is bad for biodiversity, otherwise known as the web of life (though as a couple of comments point out, we're really talking about anthropogenic environmental change, not just climate change, as there are other factors contributing to the current precipitous biodiversity decline).

Jeremy is in search of the biodegradable shoe. He also thinks there are three basic paths ahead for the world over this century.

Bill discusses what he thinks might be the most popular tax in history.

David distinguishes (very helpfully) between stuff and things, and while he's dishing out useful advice, he also gives some tips on how to make trillions of dollars.

Halden is a little underwhelmed by ecumenism.

And Brad relates a tale of two Protestantisms, in which O'Donovan sides with the Augustinian English Anglicans against the Donatist Scots Presbyterians (perhaps unsurprisingly, since O'Donovan is an English Anglican who happens to live in Scotland). If nothing after that last comma made sense, don't worry, the post itself is very readable.

Sick of being green? Christians and ecology

Why does the Church of England recycle its sermons? Having just quoted Archbishop Williams in my previous post, this article argues that the Church of England has jumped on the ecology bandwagon for lack of anything else to get excited about. Ecological sins are an easy preach and green tips are a simple application.

There is indeed such a thing as saying too much about a particular ethical issue, whether it be sexual or ecological. There is, of course, also such a thing as saying too little. A church that never mentioned ecology would be as deficient in its discipleship as one that never mentioned sex or money. As I read the article, my first thought was that few Sydney churches that I know of could be accused of talking too much green!

Our church here in Edinburgh has an eco-group as one of its many (forty-one at last count) special interest ministries. So you can pick between improving the music, supporting AIDS orphans in Africa, helping to walk beside locals struggling with debt or saving the planet one lightbulb at a time.

Now the ecclesial body has many members, each of which has its own function and not everyone can be involved in every cause or need. So I am not against churches having specialist groups. My question is this: what is it about a church eco-group that is specifically Christian? Presumably, like a sub-committee of various corporations, such a group will be counting carbon and cutting footprints, trying to encourage the larger group to change behaviours and modify assumptions. But what difference does the good news of Jesus make? How do specifically Christian responses to ecological destruction differ from mainstream secular ones? Merely in motivation? In putting the cause into a larger context? In placing ultimate trust in God as we act? Yes, all of these, but are there other differences?
Don't worry, I will be returning to my series in which I am outlining my thesis question. These three little posts are a brief interlude. Normal transmission will resume shortly.

A bloodless feast: swine flu and communion

XXX. Of Both Kinds.
THE Cup of the Lord is not to be denied to the lay people; for both parts of the Lord's sacrament, by Christ's ordinance and commandment, ought to be ministered to all Christian men alike.

- The XXXIX Articles of Religion in The Book of Common Prayer, 1662.

The Archbishops of York and Canterbury have recently advised all members of the clergy to refrain from offering both elements at communion due to risk of swine flu infection through the use of the common cup. If clergy wish to offer both elements they may use intinction (dipping the bread into the wine), as long as this is done by the presiding minister rather than the communicant (since many people misjudge and end up sticking their fingers in the cup, which obviously defeats the hygiene purpose). However, this is not required. Have the Archbishops thrown out the Articles? Is this blatant disregard for a founding document on the basis of a few sniffles?

I realise that many people smarter than I are genuinely concerned about swine flu, and a little research also uncovered the fact that section 8 of the Sacrament Act of 1547 provides that

"... the... most blessed Sacrament be hereafter commonly delivered and ministered unto the people... under both the kinds, that is to say of bread and wine, except necessity otherwise require..."

It is generally thought that the exception was because communicants ought to avoid a common cup in the event of plague. I am not sure why this exception was not included in the articles themselves, and since I can't currently find a copy of Cranmer's Forty-Two Articles (which preceded the more streamlined and famous Thirty-Nine Articles), I am not sure if this was simply an oversight.

While communion in both kinds is the norm for Anglicans (in faithfulness to Christ's institution), when only one element is received, the communicant is nonetheless still receiving the full sacrament. However, wouldn't it be better as a temporary measure during pandemnic simply to use personal vessels rather than no-one getting any wine? I realise that a common cup is a powerful symbol, but then so is everyone receiving both kinds.

Two styles of Anglicanism: on not being in schism

I have generally steered fairly clear of recent global Anglican politics, and for those interested there has always been plenty of coverage on other blogs. However, I thought I might make a comment on a recent address by Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, titled "Communion, Covenant and our Anglican Future". In it, he outlines possible implications of pursuing a covenant model of Anglican communion, including the possibility that some churches will signup and others won't, resulting in two kinds of Anglican churches.

23. This has been called a "two-tier" model, or, more disparagingly, a first- and second-class structure. But perhaps we are faced with the possibility rather of a "two-track" model, two ways of witnessing to the Anglican heritage, one of which had decided that local autonomy had to be the prevailing value and so had in good faith declined a covenantal structure. [...]

24. It helps to be clear about these possible futures, however much we think them less than ideal, and to speak about them not in apocalyptic terms of schism and excommunication but plainly as what they are – two styles of being Anglican, whose mutual relation will certainly need working out but which would not exclude cooperation in mission and service of the kind now shared in the communion. It should not need to be said that a competitive hostility between the two would be one of the worst possible outcomes, and needs to be clearly repudiated. The ideal is that both "tracks" should be able to pursue what they believe God is calling them to be as church, with greater integrity and consistency. It is right to hope for and work for the best kinds of shared networks and institutions of common interest that could be maintained as between different visions of the Anglican heritage. And if the prospect of greater structural distance is unwelcome, we must look seriously at what might yet make it less likely.

This point is worth making and repeating. That we may well end up with two Anglican paths (at a formal level) doesn't mean we all hate each other, or that all possibilities of ongoing co-operation or mutual mission are now closed. It might be sad, but it is not the end of the world, nor even of that thing known as Anglicanism.

I've been thinking recently about the merits and pitfalls of avoiding unnecessarily apocalyptic modes of thought in other contexts and so this quote jumped out at me.

Part of living prior to final judgement is that we are to refrain from judging others (e.g. Luke 6.37). This does not mean we must never make any kind of humble preliminary evaluation about the lives and witness of those who claim to represent Christ, but it does mean that we hold back from doing so in ultimate ways, pronouncing condemnation upon others. If we embrace the goodness of God's action in Jesus, then false teaching that denies or undermines it will need to be gently corrected, but it quite possible to do this without turning everyone with whom we disagree into a diabolical and godless villain.

One implication of this is that I think it is best to avoid using military language and thought-patterns in how we understand the present Anglican crisis. If we want to speak in terms of fighting our enemies, the holy scriptures remind us that our true foes are not those Christians on the other side of this or that issue. Our enemies are spiritual: the spirits of disunity, factionalism, pride, impatience, fear and so on. The Anglicans with whom we disagree are brothers and sisters for whom Christ died and who may well have been blessed with some of the very weapons required to help us fight our own demons.
PS For those struggling to understand exactly what the Archbishop's address means, the Bishop of Durham has published a commentary. There are many other responses in various places, but I post this one because it is as much exegesis as analysis of the Archbishop's text.

This is my body...

I've been pondering recently the words of administration used in Communion/Eucharist/Lord's Supper services when the elements are served to the communicants. I'm no sacramentologist or liturgical historian and don't really want to get into debates about real presence, however, a little piece of liturgical history might help give some context for those unfamiliar with such debates.

In his 1549 Book of Common Prayer, the first of its kind in English, Anglican Reformer Archbishop Cranmer instructed that these words be used by the minister "when he delivereth the Bread/Cup to anyone":

The body/blood of our Lord Jesus Christ which was given/shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life.

These words are often read as referring to the identity of the elements so that (in some "physical" sense) the bread is Christ's body and the wine is his blood. However, notice that Cranmer's words are ambiguous. Taking the form of a prayer, they simply petition God for the preservation of the communicant's salvation (notice too the good resurrection theology implied in body and soul) through the broken body and shed blood of Christ. Nothing is said explicitly here about the status of the elements, leaving open a variety of different understandings about the relationship between the bread and wine being consumed and the body and blood which save.

By the 1552 edition of the prayer book, Archbishop Cranmer replaced the words of administration with this formula:

Take and eat this, in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith, with thanksgiving. ... Drink this in remembrance that Christ's blood was shed for thee, and be thankful.

The feeding upon Christ is now explicitly in thy heart and by faith. Notice again, however, that nothing is said explicitly about the status of the elements.

Part of Cranmer's genius in both formulations is to shift our attention from the status of the elements to the meaning of the act of eating them. This meaning is tied in with Christ's saving work in his death; to speak of shed blood and a broken body make a closer reference to the narrative of Christ's passion than simply mentioning body and blood.

In 1559, after Cranmer's execution, a third English prayer book was approved by Elizabeth I. The words of administration were simply a combination of 1549 and 1552:

The body of our Lord Jesus Christ which was given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life; and take and eat this, in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith, with thanksgiving. ... The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life; and drink this in remembrance that Christ's blood was shed for thee, and be thankful.

It's quite a mouthful, but it was this form that was picked up and used again in the definitive 1662 Book of Common Prayer, which continued to be the standard until a series of liturgical revisions across the Anglican communion in the twentieth century.

In Scotland, the words of administration were revised a number of time. In 1929, they were pared back to just the 1549 words, then a further revision in 1970 added this instruction: After the Words of Administration the Communicant shall answer Amen. The Words of Administration may be shortened at the discretion of the Priest. And then in 1982 (the current form still in use), a decisive shift occurred:

The Body/Blood of Christ given/shed for you.

Notice not only the capitals, but more importantly, the grammatical shift from petition to exclamation. No longer is a prayer being offered for the preservation of the communicant's salvation through Christ's passion. Instead, a nominal phrase (without a main verb) is substituted, which has the function of directing attention back to the elements themselves. More or less, these words say "Wow!" or "Look!".

However, having been to a number of communion services here in Scotland, I've noticed in both Scottish Episcopalian (Anglican) and Church of Scotland (Presbyterian) gatherings that even the narrative reference to "giving" and "shedding" are dropped, leaving simply the Roman Catholic words, which are short and to the point:

The body/blood of Christ.

Church in Crisis: The Gay Controversy and the Anglican Communion

Oliver O'Donovan has just released a new book published by Wipf and Stock called Church in Crisis: The Gay Controversy and the Anglican Communion. Here is the publisher's blurb (which, given the Latin, I assume probably originated with the author):

What if the challenge gay men and women present the church with is not emancipatory but hermeneutic? Suppose that at the heart of the problem there is the magna quaestio, the question about the gay experience, its sources and its character, that gays must answer for themselves: how this form of sensibility and feeling is shaped by its social context and how it can be clothed in an appropriate pattern of life for the service of God and discipleship of Christ? But suppose, too, that there is another question corresponding to it, which non-gay Christians need to answer: how and to what extent this form of sensibility and feeling has emerged in specific historical conditions, and how the conditions may require, as an aspect of the pastoral accommodation that changing historical conditions require, a form of public presence and acknowledgment not hitherto known? These two questions come together as a single question: how are we to understand together the particularity of the age in which we are given to attest God's works?

H/T Halden.

UPDATE: In the UK, the book has been published by SCM with the title, A Conversation Waiting to Begin: The churches and the gay controversy. This is, I believe, a superior title in that it better reflects the tone and content of the text. The breathlessness of the US title seems to be more concerned with trying to shift copies. A good review of the book can be found here.

GAFCON links

Here is the final statement published at the recent Global Anglican Future Conference in Jerusalem (and a video of the "Jerusalem Declaration" being read by Archbishop Henry Luke Orombi).

And some responses:

• Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury;
• N. T. Wright, Bishop of Durham;
• Robert Forsyth, Bishop of South Sydney;
• Mark Thompson, President of Anglican Church League of Sydney Diocese; and
• Dave Walker, cartoonist.

Anyone know of other responses worth reading? This is a complex topic and I'm not going to try to make a comment myself at this stage.

Going green: rituals and repentance

Philip Freier, the Anglican Archbishop of Melbourne, warns against superficial change in responding to ecological crises. True care for creation begins with repentance, not recycling.

Smith on global scarcity

A (poorly edited) extract from my article on global scarcity in the latest edition of CASE magazine has been published at Sydney Anglicans.

You'll need to subscribe to CASE to get the full article, or you can find many of the ideas back in this series.

Ecclesial dirt and reputational purity

I have had a number of conversations in the last year or so with new or aspiring Anglican clergy that have revolved around the question of which parish to work in. This in itself is quite unsurprising. I studied at Moore College for four years and so spent much of my time with men and women preparing for a lifetime of service in various Protestant churches, mainly Anglican. At the end of a degree, the question of future ministry looms large: where will I serve God and his people? To talk with one's colleagues and friends while discerning an answer is common sense. Even for those who have decided not to pursue service further afield, the sheer number of churches in Sydney makes for a bewildering variety of options. A range of factors could be taken into account in determining an outcome: the ability to use one's particular gifts in the job description, existing relational ties to a congregation or significant individual, the chance to receive further training, the needs and opportunities of the local area, proximity to family, cultural familiarity, respect for the senior minister, confluence of ministry approach and personality, and many others.

What concerned, irritated and ultimately alarmed me was the extent to which one particular aspect seemed to dominate or feature prominently amongst the selection criteria in more than a few discussions. It wasn't "how much will I be paid?" or "will I get a comfortable house?" If such considerations were functioning consciously or unconsciously, they were rarely admitted. No, the criteria in question was: "will serving at this church damage my reputation and make it more difficult for me to get another position in future?"

The thinking, as best as I can reconstruct it, goes something like this. Some parishes in Sydney are seen by the dominant mindset as "tainted" in various ways. They might be a little more charismatic in worship and tone, a little higher in churchmanship (e.g. they might still celebrate Communion regularly), a little broader in the role of women in ministry, a little more open to certain thinkers (such as He Who Must Not Be Named (let the reader understand)), a little more into eating babies and Satan worship. OK, so maybe not the last one. In any case, and more seriously, such parishes depart from what is perceived to be "Sydney orthodoxy" in one or more respects. For those contemplating future employment opportunities, they represent a dangerous possibility of guilt by association. If I accept a position as catechist (student minister) or assistant there, I will gain a reputation for being charismatic/high church/liberal/soft - better to keep my head down and my name pure.

This is, of course, a caricature, but only just. Such reasoning disturbs me for at least three reasons.

(a) It assumes the world can be divided fairly neatly into white hats and black hats. The former are teachers or churches who are solid, reliable, trustworthy, orthodox, "gospel-centred". The latter are teachers or churches that are dangerously wrong, beyond the pale and from whom nothing ought to be learned lest I endanger my soul (not to mention my future ministry opportunities). Of course, everyone is actually a shade of grey: there is none so pure that I can safely accept her every word; there is none so wicked that in God's grace I have nothing to learn from him. We are all always doubly vulnerable: to sin and to grace.

(b) It assumes that I am passive in the interaction, that I will be infected by their "contagion", rather than their being infected by my "holiness". Jesus was contagiously holy; he touched lepers and made them clean instead of himself becoming unclean (Mark 1.40-42). If I think a certain parish is heading in the wrong direction, might not my presence – my prayer, listening, teaching, sharing, love – in God's grace exert some positive influence?

(c) It is based on fear. This fear is not simply that I might lose my way spiritually or theologically by falling under an unwise influence (a concern which may have some small place in healthy thinking), but a fear that others will think less of me, that I will lose honour by associating with the "dishonourable". And each individual who acts based on this fear feeds it in others by implicitly affirming it as a real fear. Although some interlocutors have claimed that they are "simply being realistic", I can't help feeling there are some parallels to a situation in which a man is being beaten by a small group of thugs and a large crowd watches, each individually using the "realistic" reasoning: "if I were the first to go to the victim's assistance, they would turn on me." What each doesn't realise is that all are waiting for someone to initiate action so they can join in.

I'm not saying that such differences between parishes in theology and practice are irrelevant. But the service of God, his people and his world is too important for us to be distracted by anxiety over reputation.
Fifteen points for each of the buildings.