I think my uncomfortableness with communion goes back to my childhood.  I was raised that you had to be right with God to partake.  I struggle, so I don’t feel right.  I have been to a Disciples of Christ church where the minister said communion was a new beginning.  Each time it was admitting our weaknesses and trying to become better.  That seemed less overwhelming, and I did not feel uncomfortable there.

http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/q-r-evangelism-and-evangelists.html#more

I am pleased to report I had no instances of wanting to throw the book against the wall this week while reading Brian McLaren’s latest offering, A New Kind of Christianity. (Although I was challenged to repent of my us vs. them mentality and characterization of Calvinists—touché!)  Instead, I was inspired and reignited by McLaren’s discussion of ten questions he identifies as those perplexing many Christians today.  He asserts that the conversation we have about these issues can (and will) reshape the future of our faith and our ability to function within it with integrity.  I wholeheartedly agree.  I’m sure there will be plenty of book reviews to devour if you need to know all the details of the book before (or without) reading it.  I’ll spare you the outline, and hit a few personal highlights.

Two overarching premises that begin the book were extremely helpful to me:  1) a concise and accessible overview of Greek philosophy and a description of how its belief system has come to dominate our understanding of God and the Christian story, and 2) a plea for the image of “community library” to replace “constitution” as the dominant metaphor for our approach to reading scripture.  (I especially appreciate the articulation of this “constitutional reading” approach which I have never had adequate vocabulary for expressing.)  With these tools as a presupposition, I saw the other questions from new angles and with fresh perspective.  McLaren selectively intersperses Biblical passages and exegesis throughout, and his comments have the weight of sound study and a gentle pastoral voice.  I was particularly moved by his very simple but profound description of the purpose of the church (p. 164): “…to form Christlike people, people of Christlike love. It exists to save them from the great danger of wasting their lives, becoming something less than and other than they were intended to be, gaining the world but losing their souls.”  (In a nod to McLaren’s quest for common ground, I was struck at how similar this vision is to a call often issued from esteemed Calvinist pastor John Piper.)

I found great sensitivity and wisdom in McLaren’s exegesis of the story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch as a starting point for our discussions about sexuality and the sexual “other,” rather than the decontextualized verses often thrown around on this topic under a constitutional reading.  His astute insight regarding “my Father’s house” in John is also worth pondering.

There is much to like here.  More importantly, there is much to contemplate…and to act upon.  McLaren has no shortage of critics, his words continue to stir up.  I count myself among those already convinced of his vision, and I hope the reading of this book will result in more “converts” to the quest.

If I have something to say, if I really do want to put myself out there—teaching, speaking, writing, etc. then I need to be prepared for the kind of conversations (and accusations) that will surely await me.  I am not argumentative by nature, and I have many friends I care deeply about who place themselves squarely in the Reformed theology camp.  They idolize (er, admire) men who make me want to spit, curse and throw things.  Truthfully, I care mostly about this issue because it means so much to them.

But I can not reconcile their beliefs (i.e., their interpretation of Scripture) with my own interpretation, observation, tradition, and experience.  I simply can’t.  And maybe that’s just where I should respectfully leave it.

I’d love to hear some feedback on this one.

As for me, I could quote ad nauseum from the book—and have elsewhere (you’re welcome, Facebook friends!), but I will appropriate here just one extended passage that I found personally remarkable, from the chapter on questioning our interpretations:

What will help you to give your otherwise theoretical faith legs?  Would reading the book of Job as if it were an allegory allow the Sermon on the Mount to change your buying habits?  If so, by all means, read it as an allegory.  Does the thought of Jonah residing in the belly of a large fish inspire you to share your resources with people deprived of access to food and medical attention?  Does inerrancy of the Bible assist you in being good to homeless people?  Does it prompt you to offer free tutoring to underprivileged children?  If so, move deeper in your commitment to the doctrine of inerrancy.  Read as you need to read to be invigorated and encouraged to do what you need to do.  Then believe as if your life depends on it.  Get worked up.  Quickly.  Move your interpretations in the direction of more righteous practice, and don’t look back.  Read as you need to read to be invigorated and encouraged to do justly.  Do what you need to do.  Love your neighbor.  Think what it takes.  This is the text.  Let it mean love.  The rest is commentary.(The Sacredness of Questioning Everything, p. 169-70.)

Now, go read it.

Then I found this Politics Daily article (found via Episcopal Cafe) and read this:

The question for Carter — and for others who find themselves at odds with leadership — is, when a group you’re deeply involved in starts to move away from your own core beliefs, do you stay and try to change from within or, at some point, do you have to look for the exit? Carter did give the former a shot — in recent years publicly criticizing and distancing himself from church leadership, while staying involved with his church. Now, he’s seeing if absence might do what presence did not.

I knew immediately this is something we needed to discuss here, as it’s the kind of thing Anne, Judith, and I have discussed before–to stay or go in our conservative churches.  I went, but originally out of geography rather than because I was taking some stand.  I believe both Anne and Judith are still Baptists, though Anne is in a more moderate church.  Am I right about this?  What do you all think about leaving instead of sticking it out and changing the church from within?

Going to Heaven: The Life and Election of Bishop Gene Robinson
Elizabeth Adams
Soft Skull Press, 2006

On November 2, 2003, Gene Robinson garnered national media attention as he became the first openly gay bishop ordained in the Episcopal Church.  Elizabeth Adams offers readers a look inside the man who—though far from ordinary—would be an unlikely candidate for celebrity were it not for the matter of his sexuality and the heated debate currently raging in Christian churches worldwide.   As the subtitle suggests, this is not merely a hagiography of a holy man revered by the author, herself a devoted Episcopalian, but a careful reporting of the history and events leading up to this momentous occasion in the Episcopal Church USA. 

Readers unfamiliar with the rich traditions of the Episcopal Church in America will find themselves either enlightened or weighed down with the detailed descriptions of canon law, procedural minutiae, and numerous clergy and parishioners.  Adams writes from an insider’s perspective, apprising us of everything from Gene’s personal feelings to the security and media arrangements on the day of the consecration.  At times tedious with this detail, it nevertheless gives bountiful insight into how this mainline denomination dealt with and continues to address homosexuality in the church.  The author also provides interesting historical background of the progress of women’s ordination within the denomination.

This book is obviously sympathetic to the position of the full inclusion of gays in all areas of church life and ministry and may offend those of a rigid conservative position (especially Southern Baptists, who are periodically singled at as examples throughout the text).  However, those willing to engage the debate will find a measured representation of the conservative reaction within the Episcopal church at personal, diocesan, national and international levels.  Evangelical readers may be surprised, in fact, to read of the agonizing concern and painstaking efforts made in this process to preserve both orthodoxy and unity within the Church.  The Episcopal Church may have a reputation as “liberal,” but as Adams demonstrates here, the denomination is filled with a diverse array of beliefs and believers.  Bishop Robinson’s consecration was not the result of a secret homosexual agenda steamrolling through the church, but a complex series of slow and painful changes seen simultaneously as victories and defeats depending upon one’s perspective.  The degree to which each decision was regarded prayerfully as well as the reported “Spirit-filled” moments by those interviewed is evocative of Evangelical language.  For those dealing with this issue and others within their own denominations, the words of Bishop Paul Moore may provide them with a new way of thinking about the way forward: “…this is the way progress comes, not smoothly through the system, but by disruption, reflection, and compromise.  History moves in jerks, like an old steam engine pulling out of a station.  Occasionally, I thought to myself, people fall down” (p. 43). 

This is, of course, primarily a biography.  The life of Gene Robinson is related through friendly interviews, insightful anecdotes, and personal observations.  Bishop Robinson shines through as one admired, loved and respected by those who know him.  Those who read this book will be drawn in by his warmth and wisdom, whether or not they agree with his theology and lifestyle.  Bishop Robinson cites John Fortunato’s Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys for Gay Christians, as the book that changed his life.  Perhaps Going to Heaven will have a similar impact on some of its readers as well.