You know....it can be pretty easy to pick off denominations.
Afterall, they've been around for a while - in the case of the Anglican Church, since sometime in the 16th century. So of course, being the humans that we are - and being the human institution that the church is - awful, terrible, horrible things have happened. Some of them noticed in a large-scale kind of way, and some (maybe most) go completely unrecognized but have nonetheless torn at the very fabric of the denomination and of Christianity as a whole.
I get this. I know this. I believe that to participate in a denomination is to own my part in this -- past, present, and future. Acknowledging these things, I hang my head in shame.
And yet, I stay connected to this immensely flawed institution, this Episcopal denomination, this stuck, broken church. Why?
Because I also see the good. I see the good it has done and the good it can do. I see the creativity and hopefulness that is just at the edges, ready to be released. I see God at work among the people I know - individuals who are trying to figure out where they are called to be and what they should be doing.
I believe that the Episcopal Church, at its best, is adept and well-equipped to discern the will of God and to join all that God is doing. I believe that the longevity of this institution gives us a wealth of praxis and experience in the ways of Spirit that is informative and useful and it would be a terrible shame if it is carelessly cast aside.
Despite my "episcopalness" you will more regularly find me at Solomon's Porch on a Sunday. Why? Because apart from being Episcopalian, I am also a fully postmodern contemporary kind of person who just can't make the extraordinary leap from the world in which I live into the current version of of the Sunday morning Episcopal church in Minnesota. But, make no mistake, this is a choice made with considerable tension and sadness.
On a particular recent Sunday at Solomon's Porch I was called on to explain the Episcopal Church and why I'm still a part of it. With no opportunity for preparation at all, I was surprised to find myself pointing to the profound understanding of ritual and liturgy that has developed in the Episcopal Church over the hundreds of years -- this "practicing" undertaken by people like me. All the thought and reflection and trial and error that undergirds everything that happens in the church. In some deep sense, I crave participating in these centuries-old practices. I feel less than whole when the wisdom of those who have gone before me is lost.
Having been raised in the Disciples of Christ and having attended all sorts and flavors of Christian churches over the years, I have found no other church that sets aside and handles the sacraments with such meaningfulness, grace, and depth as the Episcopal Church. I like the hocus pocus. I like the mystery and the sanctity of the Eucharistic feast. I like the imagery and belief in the communion of saints. I want to stand at the communion rail and take my place alongside everyone who ever has been and ever will share that meal.
I also want and need that global community that only a worldwide denomination can offer. I recently led a mission trip to Cordova, Alaska with a bunch of kids from Episcopal Churches in the Twin Cities. The people of Cordova took us in and showed us the most extraordinary hospitality. Why? Because we were Episcopalians, which meant we are connected to them through this global communion. They needed to know nothing beyond that - not who we were, not what we were doing there, not how much we can pay them to offset expenses. I like being in communion with these gracious, hospitable, accepting people.
I have rarely entered a church - Episcopal or otherwise - that is not predominantly one race or culture. While I don't particularly aspire to participate in these monocultural settings, I have resigned myself to the fact that, for now, this is how people segregate themselves on Sundays. Participating in a global church allows me the comfort of knowing that while I don't have the privilege of a multicultural setting for my church, I do participate in a broader faith community that embraces all people. This globalized church gives me some sense of hope that these barriers can someday be broken down.
I heard Tony Blair recently say (on the Daily Show, of course) that in our new and expanding understanding of globalization, faith traditions have the ability to either enhance and support our networked world or to pull it apart. He is banking on the institution finding the way of connection.
Given my experiences, I'm with Tony Blair. I believe that the Episcopal church has the tremendous ability and potential to pull people together. Because of its emphasis on community over isolation, incarnation over separation, conversation over common theology, it is uniquely equipped and particularly agile enough to engage contemporary culture and issues and to re-form itself to meet the challenges our globalized age presents.
