Grace & Peace!
GKC, why on earth remain an Anglican?
I can’t speak for GKC (who can and does speak eloquently for himself), but I’m an Anglo-Catholic and I have a problem with Papal supremacy. Not primacy. Supremacy. And I do see them as two different things. I honestly have yet to come across a convinving theological argument for the Pope’s claims to universal jurisdiction. I cannot in all honesty submit to Rome if I’m dubious about her authority.
Unlike GKC, I am in the ECUSA and (for the time being at least) in communion with Canterbury. And this may seem incredibly counter-intuitive, but I
want to be part of a church at which both the “liberal” and the “conservative”, the protestant and the catholic can sit at the table. I
want Peter Akinola at the table. I’m saddened that he doesn’t want me at the table, but the depth of his charity is not something I can do anything about. And for me, it is about charity. The table at which people agree to disagree is about charity. The Body of Christ must include the people I dislike, the people with whom I disagree, because I need to learn to love them more. And if they are separated from me for whatever reason, I am the lesser for it.
Unfortunately, both sides of this debate are unwilling to yield in love to each other. That’s what I find the most depressing about all of it.
I’m sure some may take issue with this and point out that the church is not supposed to be about people with different hermeneutical frames sitting at the same table in love–that such an understanding belies the importance of preserving a careful adherence to a belief concerning the truth of doctrine, without which consensus, sitting at the same table is impossible. Well. I would respectfully disagree with a point of view that held or implicitly assumed that the nature of charity was so frail as to not admit the possibility of holding in a creative tension the truth of doctrine and being in communion with those with which one disagrees. I think doctrine is an invitation to believe, not a command. It may be gently insistent, but that’s the voice of love which issues the invitation. And it is also the voice of love which whispers, “faith, hope, love. These three. But the greatest of these is love.”
To me, then, to see doctrine as a command is to see faith as a checklist of things to which we intellectually (or even theoretically) give our assent. This creates a culture of obligation, not of obedience, which comes from the word “to listen.” We listen and we respond. That’s obedience. Obligation does not care if we’ve heard, but merely requires the performance of the gesture of response.
Anyway, suffice to say that the broken and breaking state of my communion saddens me. But I see few alternatives. And I question in myself the desire to seek alternatives. Does not the Broken Body have an immense claim on my love and affection?
My two cents.
Under the Mercy,
Mark
Deo Gratias!