Here Archbishop Williams speaks with Richard Dawkins, making the doctrines of the Incarnation and the Virgin birth sound like "poetic language"--which is not, I gather, how he would have wanted to come across after being edited. "Nature opening up to its own depths" can be understood in other ways, but would Williams agree with Dawkins that the Church is committed to it as a "statement of fact" that is true or else false? Just what did Williams mean to say?
Some (see the comments) have responded to Dawkins on God by saying, or agreeing with the saying that "I don't believe in the God that Richard Dawkins doesn't believe in, either." OK, fine, but then what God are we talking about? Is there a consensus among the faithful or are we each stumbling in the divine darkness? As with Williams, an important part of the content of the faith, referred to in the Quadrilateral and in the Creeds, seems to be read in a new way; in just what way is it being read?
Just Say No
Rev. Mark Harris over at Preludium has informed us that the Episcopal Church is officially beginning it period of discernment as to whether it adopts the Anglican Covenant in what professes to be its final form.
We should vote it down, without hesitation or qualm.
The Covenant is intended as a means of punishing and/or expelling TEC. Rather than explain that, let me refer you to the writings of Fr. Harris and to the ruminations of Fr. Jake, starting here. Further analysis, albeit broad brush, here.
True though all of these objections are, the Covenant is more fundamentally an affront to Anglicanism's foundational ethos as formulated in both the 39 Articles and in the writings of Richard Hooker. Briefly, the Covenant reflects Canterbury's effort to "ride the tiger" of American far-right and Global South hostility to the decision of TEC to honor the ministry of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters to reify a new creation: An international Anglican Church, rather than a loose confederation of churches, creating a Magisterium. More here.
The problem with all this is that, as Hooker makes clear in his Preface to the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, the evolution of churches in their places of planting reflects the needs of those among whom the church grows up and that even the means of organization may properly vary from place to place. Moreover, the foibles as well as the virtues of great figures (such as Calvin, in Hooker's time) may be reflected in not only their own churches, but those which adopt their teaching. Institutionally, local control and autonomy is a way of allowing for the correction of error, as discerned over time.
And that, not simple anti-Roman Catholic spite, is the justification for Article 37, stating that "The King's Majesty hath the chief power in this Realm of England, and other his Dominions, unto whom the chief Government of all Estates of this Realm, whether they be Ecclesiastical or Civil, in all causes doth appertain, and is not, nor ought to be, subject to any foreign Jurisdiction."
Simply put, the Anglican understanding has held, in delicate balance, the values catholicity and autonomy. Autonomy is necessary to prevent the handing down from on high of bulls which, as Hooker cautions, may result from the universalizing of an insight appropriate to one time and one place, or the over-veneration of a great leader, and simply force a solution to one locale's problem onto a different place and situation, creating a new problem.
The Anglican Covenant upsets that balance, and is indeed intended to do so, reducing the local scope of autonomy. Worst of all, it has no inherent limitation. As Hooker described the mounting demands of the Puritans from respect for conscience, to conformity, to the overthrow of all social institutions which would not conform to their will, the Covenant replaces the delicate balance of communion with a limitless perpetual synod with coercive power whose only limit is its own moderation. We may be expelled from the Communion, no doubt; but we should not sign our own death warrant.
We should vote it down, without hesitation or qualm.
The Covenant is intended as a means of punishing and/or expelling TEC. Rather than explain that, let me refer you to the writings of Fr. Harris and to the ruminations of Fr. Jake, starting here. Further analysis, albeit broad brush, here.
True though all of these objections are, the Covenant is more fundamentally an affront to Anglicanism's foundational ethos as formulated in both the 39 Articles and in the writings of Richard Hooker. Briefly, the Covenant reflects Canterbury's effort to "ride the tiger" of American far-right and Global South hostility to the decision of TEC to honor the ministry of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters to reify a new creation: An international Anglican Church, rather than a loose confederation of churches, creating a Magisterium. More here.
The problem with all this is that, as Hooker makes clear in his Preface to the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, the evolution of churches in their places of planting reflects the needs of those among whom the church grows up and that even the means of organization may properly vary from place to place. Moreover, the foibles as well as the virtues of great figures (such as Calvin, in Hooker's time) may be reflected in not only their own churches, but those which adopt their teaching. Institutionally, local control and autonomy is a way of allowing for the correction of error, as discerned over time.
And that, not simple anti-Roman Catholic spite, is the justification for Article 37, stating that "The King's Majesty hath the chief power in this Realm of England, and other his Dominions, unto whom the chief Government of all Estates of this Realm, whether they be Ecclesiastical or Civil, in all causes doth appertain, and is not, nor ought to be, subject to any foreign Jurisdiction."
Simply put, the Anglican understanding has held, in delicate balance, the values catholicity and autonomy. Autonomy is necessary to prevent the handing down from on high of bulls which, as Hooker cautions, may result from the universalizing of an insight appropriate to one time and one place, or the over-veneration of a great leader, and simply force a solution to one locale's problem onto a different place and situation, creating a new problem.
The Anglican Covenant upsets that balance, and is indeed intended to do so, reducing the local scope of autonomy. Worst of all, it has no inherent limitation. As Hooker described the mounting demands of the Puritans from respect for conscience, to conformity, to the overthrow of all social institutions which would not conform to their will, the Covenant replaces the delicate balance of communion with a limitless perpetual synod with coercive power whose only limit is its own moderation. We may be expelled from the Communion, no doubt; but we should not sign our own death warrant.
On Paul Jones
Paul Jones, I think we can all agree, was right to oppose American involvement in World War I in 1917, and the HoB was gravely mistaken in calling, as a result, for his resignation. If you seek the causes of WWI, you will likely dig up a standard list fairly near the surface: a system of alliances, competition among imperialist powers for a greater slice of the economic pie, et cetera. But the catastrophic bloodletting, the unprecedented violence, the sheer magnitude of death and injury, were grotesquely out of proportion to the causes; WWI is a paradigm case of wasted life, young men charging into machine gun fire for nothing: human wreckage. Alas, in 1918 he was alone in being pressured to resign for his anti-war stand.
Between now and then we do not seem to have learned very much about war. The current Iraq War--or whatever that obscenity is now that, mirabile dictu, combat operations (or is that "combat operations"?) have ceased--is another case of a war fought for nothing, a war whose evil is grotesquely out of proportion to its justification. I have heard it said that around the time of the first Iraq War, soon after the fall of the Eastern bloc, quite apart from the accidental doctrine of the preemptive strike that featured later under Bush II, the Rubicon had been crossed; we would live under an international political and economic "order" based on a magnitude of death and destruction that can only come from war.
As far as I can tell, opposition from churches, from Christendom as a whole, has had no effect on that order, or just about as much effect as the witness of Bishop Jones. Perhaps it might have had an effect; one may imagine some anti-war movement of a size and intensity commanding political power sufficient to have prevented the war or forced a withdrawal. I am not so sure though; I am not sure the anti-war movement had much an effect on the conduct of the Vietnam War, especially after Kent State. Moreover, actual Christianity as a whole has been disproportionately quiet on the Iraq wars--and the Afganistan war; it's hard to picture such a fractured, self-obsessed body rousing itself to anything so immediately significant and controversial.
Do we have anything cogent to say about war? Why would a serious person whose time is scarce pay any attention to anything any Christian church has to say about the Iraq wars, or any war for that matter? I am tempted to fall back on a Papal this or an NCC that, but come on. That stuff hits with a thud, as well it should; people take churchbabble about as seriously as Rowan Williams takes his piece on the body's grace. It seems a case could be made for a rather sad a priori: most any given church will either be firmly on the side of those profitting from the carnage, as the Episcopal Church was in the time of Paul Jones, or it will be near to the last to arrive at skepticism or disapproval, if it is, or once it has become, common sense. As an aside, I wonder how far such an a priori could be applied, suitably modified, to other hot issues. Such wonder is not idle, inasmuch as people inferring unreliablity from that a priori may well feel justified in extending skepticism to the Gospel, or to whatever the churches seem to be saying these days about Jesus. And who can blame them? You should know the smell of bullshit is going to travel.
It is difficult to prise a simple lesson from the witness of Bishop Jones, except to say that in spite of the HoB's error then, and the torpor of the churches now, his witness was right and good, in spite of his being alone, and such a witness would be right and good today as well, whatever would befall the churches.
Between now and then we do not seem to have learned very much about war. The current Iraq War--or whatever that obscenity is now that, mirabile dictu, combat operations (or is that "combat operations"?) have ceased--is another case of a war fought for nothing, a war whose evil is grotesquely out of proportion to its justification. I have heard it said that around the time of the first Iraq War, soon after the fall of the Eastern bloc, quite apart from the accidental doctrine of the preemptive strike that featured later under Bush II, the Rubicon had been crossed; we would live under an international political and economic "order" based on a magnitude of death and destruction that can only come from war.
As far as I can tell, opposition from churches, from Christendom as a whole, has had no effect on that order, or just about as much effect as the witness of Bishop Jones. Perhaps it might have had an effect; one may imagine some anti-war movement of a size and intensity commanding political power sufficient to have prevented the war or forced a withdrawal. I am not so sure though; I am not sure the anti-war movement had much an effect on the conduct of the Vietnam War, especially after Kent State. Moreover, actual Christianity as a whole has been disproportionately quiet on the Iraq wars--and the Afganistan war; it's hard to picture such a fractured, self-obsessed body rousing itself to anything so immediately significant and controversial.
Do we have anything cogent to say about war? Why would a serious person whose time is scarce pay any attention to anything any Christian church has to say about the Iraq wars, or any war for that matter? I am tempted to fall back on a Papal this or an NCC that, but come on. That stuff hits with a thud, as well it should; people take churchbabble about as seriously as Rowan Williams takes his piece on the body's grace. It seems a case could be made for a rather sad a priori: most any given church will either be firmly on the side of those profitting from the carnage, as the Episcopal Church was in the time of Paul Jones, or it will be near to the last to arrive at skepticism or disapproval, if it is, or once it has become, common sense. As an aside, I wonder how far such an a priori could be applied, suitably modified, to other hot issues. Such wonder is not idle, inasmuch as people inferring unreliablity from that a priori may well feel justified in extending skepticism to the Gospel, or to whatever the churches seem to be saying these days about Jesus. And who can blame them? You should know the smell of bullshit is going to travel.
It is difficult to prise a simple lesson from the witness of Bishop Jones, except to say that in spite of the HoB's error then, and the torpor of the churches now, his witness was right and good, in spite of his being alone, and such a witness would be right and good today as well, whatever would befall the churches.
Rock it, Man!
This morning's NY Times Magazine has a story on William Shatner, which mentions, among other things, that he was "The 23-year-old Shakespearean whom Sir Tyrone Guthrie called the Stratford Shakespeare Festival’s most promising actor."
Wait a damn second. Sir Tyrone Guthrie? Stratford Shakespeare Festival? In 1954?
Sure enough, that's the second year of the Festival, and wriiten up in a little-known work by that magus of Canada, Roberston Davies, in Twice Have The Trumpets Sounded, the second of Davies' accounts of the early years of the Festival, co-authored by Davies with Guthrie, lavishly illustrated by Grant McDonald. (And if I can find me a copy of Thrice the Brindled Cat Hath Mew'd (1955), I'll have 'em all, and my completist's heart will be at ease). Anyway, here is Davies on Shatner in The Taming of the Shrew:
High praise from Davies, whose critical faculties were razor-sharp. The sketch of Shatner in role on page 51 is very reminsicent of a James Dean in his prime--and, a bit oddly, of a picture I've seen of my own father as a young man).
Shatner is often dismissed as a media phenomenon whos has made himself into a cult figure by straddling the two worlds of fandom and self-parody. And in fact, that's true. It's also true, though, that the actor playing the role of William Shatner has more native talent than one might think, and the man behind the masque is not necessarily the joking figure he portrays.
I think.
Wait a damn second. Sir Tyrone Guthrie? Stratford Shakespeare Festival? In 1954?
Sure enough, that's the second year of the Festival, and wriiten up in a little-known work by that magus of Canada, Roberston Davies, in Twice Have The Trumpets Sounded, the second of Davies' accounts of the early years of the Festival, co-authored by Davies with Guthrie, lavishly illustrated by Grant McDonald. (And if I can find me a copy of Thrice the Brindled Cat Hath Mew'd (1955), I'll have 'em all, and my completist's heart will be at ease). Anyway, here is Davies on Shatner in The Taming of the Shrew:
Lucentio, the suitor of Bianca, is not ordinarily consdered a comic role, except in the classic sense that all lovers who do not die are figures of High Comedy. But William Shatner brought some of the gifts of the vaudevillian comedian to the part; his self-assured and somewhat brassy delivery of his first speech was itself a pleasant bit of comedy, and all through the play he gave a dimension of comedy to a character which can very easily be a romantic bore. In the company of players who performed The Shrew at the Lord's bidding, his rank was obviously that of First Light Comedian rather than First Walking Gentleman.(Twice Have The Trumpets Sounded, at p. 50).
High praise from Davies, whose critical faculties were razor-sharp. The sketch of Shatner in role on page 51 is very reminsicent of a James Dean in his prime--and, a bit oddly, of a picture I've seen of my own father as a young man).
Shatner is often dismissed as a media phenomenon whos has made himself into a cult figure by straddling the two worlds of fandom and self-parody. And in fact, that's true. It's also true, though, that the actor playing the role of William Shatner has more native talent than one might think, and the man behind the masque is not necessarily the joking figure he portrays.
I think.
Nossa Senhora Aparecida
A couple of fine friends of mine in Brazil are about to make a pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Aparecida, in Portuguese Nossa Senhora Aparecida or Nossa Senhora da Conceição Aparecida. Here she is!
She is the patron saint of Brazil.
As you can see, she is a Black figure of Mary. She appeared to three fishermen, Domingos Garcia, Filipe Pedroso, and João Alves, in 1717.
She is the patron saint of Brazil.As you can see, she is a Black figure of Mary. She appeared to three fishermen, Domingos Garcia, Filipe Pedroso, and João Alves, in 1717.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)