The limits of unity

From a Christian perspective, there is value placed on unity — “that you may be One, as the Father and I are One” — in religion.  This has been expressed in the recent past by various ecumenical movements to see how different denominations can come into closer accord, etc.

Anglicanism — in a modern sense, at least — and the Episcopal Church have embraced this idea of unity, recognizing that such unity may, and in fact should, mean a diversity of opinion.  In effect, it’s a conscious choice that at least some degree of diversity and ideological impurity, and the tolerance (and discomfort) they require are worth it, in order to sit at the table together in fellowship.  Or, put another way, it’s a matter of deciding what is important, which theological bits are worth
“agreeing to disagree” and which are not (and which are “don’t ask, don’t tell”).  Being engaged with each other is given a lot of weight.

But it is not the ultimate value, not the sole reason for being.  Loving one another can mean being at a bit of a remove from one another.  Some things transcend unity, though — unity in what is always a key question.

This has been the ongoing debate within the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church since, most explicitly, General Convention 2003, when the consecration of Gene Robinson as Bishop of New Hampshire raised a huge furor within both bodies.  Some people voted with their feet to separate from ECUSA (as individuals or parishes), or militated to kick ECUSA out of the Anglican Communion (unless suitably abject apologies and backtracking and penance occurred).

At the General Convention of the Episcopal Church last week, we saw what may have been a last ditch effort by ECUSA to try, to the limits of its ability, to remain in unity with our Anglican brethren, leading to a compromise that seems to have pleased few and enraged many.  On the one hand, we elected a new Presiding Bishop — a woman, no less (raising eyebrows amongst folks
who are struggling with the idea of female clergy in the first place) — who is on record backing full inclusion of gays within the church and sacraments.  And the GC also voted down a resolution to place a moratorium on consecrating gay bishops.

But, the GC did offer an apology for what it had earlier done, and did vote in a resolution asking (but not requiring) bishops and standing committees to not consent to the election of bishops that would torque off other Anglicans.

“Although many of us fully support Bishop Robinson, this is the price we unfortunately had to pay to keep the church together and keep it at the table with the Anglican Communion,” said Bishop Kirk S. Smith of Arizona, who voted for the resolution but said he supported gay men and lesbians in the episcopate. “It was the price of a ticket to admission for further work with the Anglican Communion.”

Unity was the watchword, even a self-inflicted scourge, trying to find a way (even a way that was hurtful to many, and compromising to other beliefs) to stay together. 

And, ultimately, it seems to have been fruitless.  Not only are the conservatives — within ECUSA and more conservative Anglican provinces — not mollified, but now Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury is following up on previous suggestions, “reflecting” that maybe what the Anglican Communion needs is a stronger
set of by-laws and membership tiers.

The archbishop, the Most Rev. Rowan Williams, said the “best way forward” was to devise a shared theological “covenant” and ask each province, as the geographical divisions of the church are called, to agree to abide by it. Provinces that agree would retain full status as “constituent churches,” and those that do not would become “churches in association” without decision-making status in the Communion, the world’s third largest body of churches.

Conservatives hailed the archbishop’s move as an affirmation that the American church stepped outside the bounds of Christian orthodoxy when it ordained a gay bishop three years ago.

Unity, again — but not a unity of equals (or an equality of unity), but a unity of “these are our close friends we listen to, those are the folks over there who should sit quietly and listen to what we say.”  Which is not unity at all — certainly not the unity that Christ taught of.

I’ve gone back and forth on the issue, in the conflict between unity and ideology — both of which are positions that seem to ignore the people in-between.  And, the fact is, while I’ve been interested in time and reflection and a chance for folks to decide how they can live together, it seems far too many are more interested in making a decision now, and kicking the bums (us) out — or, in terms of the Archbishop, who seems overly
focused on not seeming soft on the issue, in setting up a process that, over the next several years, will formally make us peripheral to the Communion.

So be it. 

Honestly?  I’ve gotten to the point where I’m more interested in being in communion with the gay and lesbians of my own church than in being in communion with the Archbishop of Nigeria.  And if the latter (and my conscience regarding the former) are going to force me to make a choice, I’m willing to go along with that inclination.  As with marriage, sometimes the costs of staying together exceed the costs of going apart.  And while the idea of being part of a great Anglican Communion
is a grand one for a variety of reasons, feeling that I and my church are doing the right thing for our fellow Episcopalians whom too many other Anglicans would rather treat as second-class Christians, at best.

Let the conservative parishioners, congregations, and even the Anglican Communion do what they need to do.  I’m not going to worry overmuch about tailoring my theology and how I act on it to their comfort or acceptance.

UPDATE: A similar, but better organized, analysis here.