The recent GAFCON statement has my head twirling a bit.

I am not sure what this will mean for Anglicanism, but I am a bit concerned. I share some of the concerns that Archishop Williams and Bishop Wright, as well as others, have voiced (see some responses to GAFCON here).

Anglicanism has always had great diversity, and while I agree that communion needs to be broken with classic liberals, I worry that this is not just Anglican-style schism. One of the most beautiful things about Anglicanism is that it is quite diverse. Now I realize there are limits to this diversity, but I wonder where the limits will be drawn. I don’t want Anglicanism to become another evangelical denomination. Evangelicalism is just one strain of Anglicanism, and while in many ways, I am in that strain, I find much of benefit in the Anglo-Catholic and latitudinarian strains.

I often find myself agreeing more with Jim Wallis than with Os Guinness. Will that mean that I will be labeled as a liberal within the new regime because I am more liberal in the areas of economics, the environment, and politics? I find myself agreeing more with the sacramentality of Schmemann, Waterland, and even Pusey than with Stott. Will I be labeled as a Catholic? (Catholics seem to be tolerated, and if you’re in San Joaquin, slightly lauded, but how long will that last?)

My reading of the Scriptures often has me agreeing more with liberals than with evangelicals when it comes to the way of Jesus. How much latitude will there be to follow the Scriptures wherever they go–even when that leads away from evangelicalism?

I am finding it increasingly more difficult for my faith to have a home.

Most of my friends are Ron Paul fans, and I have to admit I find the guy fascinating. I watched his fundraising drive last year closely, and I have somewhat followed his campaign. I’ve known about him since college through my friend Nathan and through Scary Gary’s work in his campaign. I think he might be just what this country needs–a start at a big change. That said, I think I want that more for shock value. I like a lot of what he says, but I also find much with which to disagree.

Let’s just say I’ve been rethinking economics over the past five years (incidentally, about the time I joined the blue party). Rachel and I were discussing Ron Paul this evening, which led into a conversation on socialism vs. capitalism (along with some communism and fascism). I was mostly talking about the problems I see (biblically) with a “free market.” Lo and behold, I came home to see Doug Jones had blogged some of these things in a critique of Sowell’s economics. I haven’t had the chance to read Jones’ other critiques of Sowell, but this hits it on the head. The free market will work great in the resurrection, I’m sure, but sin will always mess it up here.

For me, one of the biggest problems I have with the libertarian way of thinking is its focus is on me. My rights. We have certain rights, and the government is taking them away. Okay, sure. I understand the sentiment. The recent bans on spanking and homeschooling in California drive me up the wall. As the Five Man Electrical band sang, “Hey! what gives you the right!” But, I question if the “American Dream” is a really a “right” we should have. Don’t get me wrong. I strongly desire those things: the perfect car, home, and job, but do I really have an “inalienable right” to pursue wealth at that level?

As I said to Rachel, the platform of the Republicans is “You can be rich!” I really like this idea. The problem is that the way to get there will often trample the poor.

The Democrats say to the poor, “You don’t have to be poor!” So who does their plan screw over?–well, the rich, and…me…and a lot of you. People that aren’t poor–we say we are, and we all have our financial problems, but we aren’t homeless, and in America, you always have the ability to pull yourself out of poverty. This isn’t Bangkok or Bogota.

I don’t want democratic style socialism. My middle class living might go down to lower middle class. That would be annoying. I would feel even more poor (such a relative term).

But is it such a bad thing to sacrifice my potential wealth for the sake of the poor? If Jones’ is right in his exposition of James, and I think he is,* that’s exactly what we’re called to do.

* I know, I too am shocked I’m finding so much common ground with Doug Jones lately.

On Friday, we went to Moscow to spend some time with Isaiah. We enjoyed a terrific Italian dinner at the home of Lisa Jackson, and we met some new friends, as well as some old friends. Throughout the course of the night, our old friend Davey Henreckson mentioned that he has been interested in political theology, and he asked me about my recent reading of Caputo’s What Would Jesus Deconstruct? As we discussed the book a bit, I mentioned that I had been shifting toward a biblical theology of nonviolence over the past several years. I was shocked to find out that Douglas Jones has been doing work in this area. If you haven’t checked out the Biblical Theses on Violence, I highly recommend it.

I also found out something interesting at church today. After the service, I started talking politics with Bishop Cavalcanti. It turns out that he was a political science professor before becoming a bishop. After this discussion Fr. Jerry mentioned that Bishop Cavalcanti was a major player in South American politics, but we know little of him since he doesn’t write in English. A search on Amazon confirmed this as his name pops up in many books on evangelicals in politics in Latin America. One of them calls him a “leader of the evangelical left,” which I find a funny term since those are almost exclusive adjectives in America (though I would probably throw myself under a title like that).

An interesting weekend to say the least.

In John D. Caputo’s What Would Jesus Deconstruct?, Caputo relates Jacques Derrida’s concept of gift to the New Testament concept of forgiveness. He notes that, in the New Testament, forgiveness is uneconomic and mad–that is to say, it is not an exchange of debts and credits.

Caputo rightly expresses that the Christian Right (as well as Jews) has typically put conditions on forgiveness. In this economic view of forgiveness, forgiveness has four steps:

Forgiveness requires an expression of sorrow, the intention to make amends, a promise not to repeat the offense, and a willingness to do penance. If someone meets all four conditions then they have earned forgiveness. We owe it to them the way the bank owes us the deed once the mortgage is paid off. A deal is a deal.”*

But Jesus turns this concept of forgiveness on its head in Matthew 5:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Or as Caputo puts it,

“If you love those who love you, what good is that? It makes perfect sense. Even the mafia does that. The unaccountable excess of love is felt when you love your enemies, when you love the unlovable–those whom it is unreasonable to love–which is the madness of the kingdom, which follows the nonprincipal of nonsufficient reason! Just so, the unaccountable excess of forgiveness is felt when we forgive precisely those who do not meet some or all of the four conditions, who are not sorry, do not repent, and do not intend to mend their ways. That is, genuine forgiveness is offered unconditionally, not the subject to meeting any or all of these four conditions, exactly the way Jesus prayed for the forgiveness of the Roman soldiers. Just so, we often speak of things that are unforgivable–the Holocaust, say, or the atrocities of American slavery or apartheid, or the several attempts at genocide we have witnessed in the past century. But would not such unforgivable things be the very subject matter of genuine forgiveness?”**

Can you imagine a world where we actually followed Jesus’s teaching on forgiveness instead of our hearts?

* 73-74
** 74

A little over four years ago, Rachel was charged with the “gross heresy of baptismal regeneration” by her church. She was later excommunicated after a trial (in absentia). This trial was a farce (I have the tape and am tempted to blog it sometime.), but to ease the pain for Rachel’s parents, our good friend, Matt Wilkins, created this comic for them. This month also marks three years since she was restored by a 118-0 presbytery vote, so in honor of that event, we thought we would share this comic that had been stored away. Posted with permission of Matt.

Click on the thumbnails to view full-size.

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Rachel wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so I took Kyrie to church. During the Agnus Dei, Kyrie surprised me. Now, we’ve never really discussed who the “Lamb of God” is or what a “sin” is. But as I was singing “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,” Kyrie starts saying (very loudly, I might add), “MY SIN! MY SIN!” I laugh a little bit and get her to quiet down, and she starts repeating over and over, “Jesus takes my sin away!” I asked her if she knew what a sin was, and she said, “Naughty.”

I am not sure how she connected the Lamb of God to Jesus, but kids continually amaze me.

As we’re leaving church, she started talking about “baptize and baby brother, the water?”

So I started telling her about baptistm, and I tried to teach her how to make a sphragis with holy water (which she does without the water). She dipped her finger in the water, slowly raised it towards her head, and promptly stuck it in her mouth. That grossed me out a bit, but I tried to get her to do it again. The second (and third and fourth) time, she stuck her finger in the water, and then brushed her hair back on both sides. I think that’s gonna need some work.

I’m writing this more because it has caused me to lose a little respect for the Internet Monk. Over the last few days, I’ve been stewing over this post. Now I don’t really care that he’s not supporting Ron Paul anymore. That’s beside the point. I’m not even a registered Republican, so my primary vote will probably be going to Barack Obama. It’s not about Ron Paul; it’s about Michael Spencer.

I’ve known about the newsletter comments for many years, and I don’t really care about politics all that much. So how this is so surprising to someone that’s probably had the Internet for a long time is beyond me. Paul repudiated the comments as soon as they were brought to his attention. This has been in the dust for a long time. This story was all over the news ten years ago in Texas. I mean, c’mon. Paul gave a full explanation then. Why should he have to give another explanation? His explanation is already out there. Why give credence to this stuff? Why waste his time talking about this distraction?

He’s not considered a racist in Texas, where people actually know him. Even the NAACP president in Austin, who has known Paul for 20 years, thinks this is a smear campaign. But Michael Spencer, a teacher at a small Christian school nowhere close to Texas, knows more about Ron Paul’s views on race. In the words of Homer Simpson, “TV said that? Then it must be true.”

What makes me so sad about Spencer’s post is that Spencer is making judgments about a man based on what he’s heard in the media from people that don’t really care for Paul. Does Spencer know how much authority Paul had over the newsletter’s publication? Does he know what actions were taken? And why is it not enough that Paul has apologized repeatedly over the years and still taken full moral responsibility for his staffer’s comments? Why are black leaders in Texas, who actually know Ron Paul personally, less authoritative than the liberal white media?

If I was one of these black leaders, I think I would feel like I was a victim of racism (but not by Ron Paul).

Of the staffer, Spencer writes, “To continue to associate with the persons who wrote ANY of the articles- which I suspect may be the case- is simply unacceptable.” Why the assumption? Why is there no charity? Spencer asks for a full explanation. The full explanation has been out there for years. What do you expect Paul to do? Get his story told in the media while they’re roasting him? Hahahahaha. How would that benefit the media?

I’m sad because I expect more from the monk. He’s usually a pretty humble guy. I think he would be willing to say he makes mistakes. I think he made a mistake on this one. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem open to dialogue on this one (he turned off comments and said he wouldn’t respond to emails). I understand that he doesn’t want to deal with Ron Paul fanatics. I get it. But I had to say something. Just calling it like I see it. Am I wrong here?

I was writing a paper on Good Friday this afternoon, and two previous blogposts, which had been of interest to a few of you, were relevant. I connect them here, in a portion of one of my paragraphs:

Laurence Hull Stookey comments about Jesus’ last words:

“It is finished” is an anemic rendering of the Greek verb tetelestai, which implies the transmission of something from afar (the same tele as in telephone, telegraph, and television). “It is finished” does not mean “It’s all over now” but means “That which has been far off is now brought near; the goal is accomplished.” In other words, the eternal purpose of God is now achieved.

I think Stookey fails to expound on this thought like he should. I would like to take this a step farther, theologically. In the Hebrew, the word translated “offering” is corban. A more literal translation of corban would read “the thing brought near.” Jesus is the corban. He is the One brought near. Moreover, I would connect it to Stookey’s earlier description of anamnesis,

This rememberance by doing rather than cogitation falls under the Greek term anamnesis. Compare amnesia. Amnesia is the loss of memory. Anamnesis is literally “the drawing near of memory,” the entrance into our own experience of that which otherwise would be locked in the past.

Thus the liturgical observance of past events somehow brings them into our own time.

On this day where we do not receive the Eucharist in bread and wine, where Jesus is not brought near in the bread and wine, we give thanks for our Saviour who is “Christ our Passover, sacrificed for us,” and we remember His words that “That which has been far off is now brought near.”

If you’re near Grand Rapids, be sure to go to Calvin College’s fall preaching conference. Todd Farley is giving lectures on The Lively Sermon. I’ve had the joy to sit under Todd for a semester, and let me just say, he has incredible preaching skills. It’s a treat you do not want to miss.

I’ve been delving into the heortology of the Christian East in the past few weeks, looking today in general at the Triduuum and specifically the Holy Saturday Orthos in the Triodion. I’ve come to a few conclusions about Constantinople:

1) Nearly every liturgical innovation during Late Antiquity, especially in heortology, comes from the East (with the exception of the Nativity).
2) Almost nothing we call characteristically Byzantine was in old Constantinople.
3) Constantinople was waaay behind the curve when it comes to the rest of the East. Jerusalem had developed stational services by the time of Egeria, but Constantinope remained immune to change until the monastic period following the struggle over Iconoclasm (when hagiopolite elements “enriched” [depending on perspective] their worship about 400 years later).

While I believe a lot of people go East for good reasons, I simply cannot understand why people return to the East because of the historical stability of their worship and calendar. Although some Orthodox claim their liturgy is unchanging, I have to wonder what planet they are living on.