Evangelical Bishop of Liverpool Calls for Tolerance of Gay & Lesbian Inclusion

In his address to his diocesan Synod, The Rt. Rev. James Jones asks the church to move past battles over sexuality to allow for a variety of views.  He invites a comparison with the variety of views Christians have about war.   While a strict reading of scripture could lead one to conclude pacifism is the only proper Christian position, the Just War Theory allows Christians to fight in war.  It is an interesting comparison to make.  The Just War Theory basically says that while scripture forbids killing, the real world contains complexities that make killing sometimes the loving thing to do.  ”Do not kill” is a goal or standard toward which we should aspire, but there are realities in the world that sometime require us to violate the scriptural injunction.   One could argue that heterosexual relationships are the biblical norm, but we are discovering there are realities in the world, such as committed, faithful same-sex relationships,  that invite us to make exceptions to this biblical norm.

While many in the church have moved to a place where same-sex relationships are considered wholly valid or normative, and would not be interested in looking at them as an exception to the heterosexual norm, the is merit in the argument.   If we can allow a  looser interpretation of scripture so people can kill one another, shouldn’t we be able to allow a looser interpretation of scripture so people can love one another.

In his address, Jones doesn’t go far down that road.  Instead he simply says that Christians for many centuries have made space for people with divergent views on war —  pacifists and soldiers have been drinking from the same chalice —  why can’t we have the same comprehensiveness when it comes to sexuality?

Just as the church over the last 2000 years has come to allow a variety of ethical conviction about the taking of life and the application of the sixth Commandment so I believe that in this period it is also moving towards allowing a variety of ethical conviction about people of the same gender loving each other fully. Just as Christian pacifists and Christian soldiers profoundly disagree with one another yet in their disagreement continue to drink from the same cup because they share in the one body so too I believe the day is coming when Christians who equally profoundly disagree about the consonancy of same gender love with the discipleship of Christ will in spite of their disagreement drink openly from the same cup of salvation.

It is a lovely and bold address.  You can read it all here.

DC Bishop allows Same Sex Marriage

Bishop Chane of D.C. is allowing his clergy to officiate at Same Sex weddings.  This is a big deal.    I think he may be the first Bishop to allow weddings. In other dioceses where same-sex marriage is legal, couples have to get civilly wed and then have their relationship blessed by the church.  I think this is an important precedent.  He isn’t specifying what rite they should use. He will work that out in consultation with the clergy.  His guidelines are here.

NorCal Clergy Conference

I just got back from the Diocese of Northern California’s clergy conference.  It was a great time to be with our bishop and fellow clergy.  Our speaker was Peter Steinke who gave several excellent talks on congregational leadership.  The Bishop also presented his plan for us to be able to provide a “generous pastoral response” to same-sex couples who would like their committed relationships blessed in the church.   I only got a few good pictures. Now I’m off to the Cathedral’s vestry retreat.

Judy LewLoose Homeless Paintings with Stations of the Cross

Judy LewLoose is a Sacramento artist who, a year ago, shifted her career to focus on raising awareness on the needs of people who are homeless.   She painted a series of people who were at Sacramento’s “tent city.”  Now she is painting women and children at St. John’s shelter.  We installed her paintings in the nave of the Cathedral with our stations of the cross.

Here are some of the paintings with the stations they accompany:

Jesus is Condemned to Death

Jesus Receives the Cross

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Jesus Meets His Holy Mother

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The Corss is Laid on Simon of Cyrene

A Woman Wipes the Face of Jesus

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Jesus Falls the Third Time

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Jesus Dies on the Cross.

The Body of Jesus is Placed in the Arms of His Mother

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In the Wilderness, Sermon 2/21/10

When It’s Sad, Sermon 2/14/10

Why doesn’t the Church of England threaten the unity of the Anglican Communion

On February 11 the Church of England’s Synod passed a motion giving surviving, same-sex domestic partners of clergy the same pension benefits that opposite sex spouses receive.  I’ve copied the motion to the bottom of this post.

Why doesn’t this threaten the unity of the Anglican Communion?  Why aren’t bishops from the Africa or South America flying in to England to rescue clergy in dioceses headed by bishops who allow gay clergy?   Why are “Anglicans” in the U.S. who can’t abide their liberal bishops petitioning to be in communion with a church that ordains people who are gay or lesbian to the priesthood?  (Their request to be recognized by the Church of England was considered, and rejected, in the same Synod where the CoE affirmed gay clergy!)

Why is the Archbishop of Canterbury encouraging us to refrain from blessing gay or lesbian couples when he has partnered gay and lesbian clergy in his own church?   People who are in a gay or lesbian relationship can be priests, they just can’t have their relationships affirmed in a church?

I’m tired of the Episcopal Church being a scapegoat for a drama that is playing out on a global scale.  Why is the “division” in the Anglican Communion our fault?  What we are doing in the Episcopal Church is simply living with integrity what is happening in England.  If you have gay, partnered clergy, shouldn’t you have a rite to support the monogamy and faithfulness of their relationships?  And if people who are gay or lesbian are holy enough to be deacons and priests, why not bishops?  If you are going to affirm the ministry of people who are gay or lesbian, and not consider them sinners for their “lifestyle,”  then affirm them!  And if some people are uncomfortable with that, fine.  It can all fit within traditional Anglican comprehensiveness.

But to affirm gay priests in England, while blaming the Episcopal Church for the division in the Anglican Communion over homosexuality is crazy.  Or it at least drives me crazy.

Here’s the motion:

“That this Synod request the Archbishops’ Council and the Church of England Pensions Board to bring forward changes to the rules governing the clergy pension scheme in order to go beyond the requirements of the Civil Partnership Act 2004 and provide pension benefits to be paid to the surviving civil partners of deceased clergy on the same basis as they are currently paid to surviving spouses.”

Great Marriage Equality Video

Featuring L.A. Episcopalians.   Thanks to Susan Russell for posting it.

Jesus Now

Kirstin Paisley has written an excellent reflection on encountering Jesus in her ministry to folks who are homeless through her work hosting Safe Ground at Trinity Cathedral. Kirstin writes beautifully. I was going to post an excerpt, but you really should read the whole thing, so here it is:

I’ve been thinking about the question, “Who is Jesus?”  I’ve been told I’ll be asked that; the implication being that I’ll need a good answer.  I don’t have one.  I can give you all the academic language you want, but my heart doesn’t know how to dissect the Trinity.  God is love, and God simply is.  God is the ground of all being.  I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about who is what, and how, and when.

But ask me, “Where is Jesus?”  Then, I get it.  I can run with that.  Come with me.

Jesus is in R, the old, nearly toothless man I met in the Great Hall yesterday evening, who pulled me aside to ask me to save him a dinner plate.  He told me his story; lots of them do, when you give them an ounce of attention.  He told me about having had open heart surgery, the stents holding his arteries open, and the 23-year-old kid who saved his life.  He was crying when he hugged me.  He left his tears on my cheek.

Jesus is in the Facebook friend who was two years behind me in high school, whom I didn’t know then but was aware of.  I remember wanting to get to know her, because her energy and joy captivated me.  We connected this past summer because a friend of hers, classmate of mine, died in August of the same cancer I survived.  She drove through California last night, on her way back to Seattle from France, and stopped by for the fifteen minutes that I could spend with her.  She got, and loved, what we were doing.  Vivacity still lights her eyes.  And she told me that I have the same light now, that I did then.  At 15 and 17, we never would have shared this.  Now, it’s as natural as “Can you stay for dinner?”  (Alas, I had to run to a meeting and she had to get back to the road.)

Jesus is in T, homeless for seven days.  A week ago he was in Los Angeles.  I never got to ask him what brought him to Sacramento.  Last night, he went with David and me to speak to the council of St. John’s Lutheran about the possibility of them hosting Safe Ground.  He didn’t know any of these people.  He was tall, and stocky, and wore a Hard Rock Café T-shirt and a crew cut.  He didn’t look like he’d ever been afraid of anything.  He told these polite strangers exactly that, when he talked about the adventures he’d had and the kinds of work he had done.  Then he told them that nothing had ever scared him half as much as being homeless.  And that Safe Ground had helped him not to be afraid anymore.  He told us he was nervous—but he spoke with confidence and grace.

Jesus is in everyone who came just to listen, and in every encounter where people were heard.  Jesus is in every look of surprised understanding; every smile, every laugh.  Jesus is in the space that creates relationship between strangers, in every pause between the words.

Jesus is in everyone who came to cook dinner, and who saved plates for R and me because I’d asked them to.  (I’d gotten caught up in talking, and missed my chance before we had to leave.)  Jesus is in the conversations we had in the kitchen, in the hugs, schemes, and crazy laughter over I don’t even remember what.  Jesus is in the latecomers who asked for dinner, and in the instinctual willingness of everyone to feed them.

Jesus is in the elders, who take so very seriously their responsibility to keep everyone safe.  In the quiet gentleness with which they treated the guests.  In the very sense of knowing we were being watched, in a loving and protective way.

Jesus is in H, who came to us after lights-out to tell us there was someone being drunk and disorderly outside.  When I figured out that it was R, and jumped up because I felt guilty that he hadn’t gotten dinner, H made me promise to be safe before I went outside.  I saw two long-time friends of Safe Ground, standing near R who was kneeling on the concrete.  I asked them if I should bring him food or water.  They said no, he was well past keeping it down.

They weren’t letting him in, but they weren’t leaving him either.  They kept a respectful distance, watching.  Not engaging with his rants; just being there.  The way they held their bodies spoke compassion.

I went back inside.  T came and whispered to me how beautiful everyone was who was sleeping.  She shared the love she felt from Steve and me, and the other volunteers.  H debriefed with me when I wanted to help R; he showed me that I couldn’t do anything for him, and that my responsibility was to do exactly what I was doing for everyone else.  Later, he came and told us that R had walked away, and had been standing against a tree for a long time.

I know that Jesus was in R then.  Keeping him calm, clearing his head, giving him peace in a night of unknowns.

I don’t know R.  But I’d made a connection with him.  I was startled at how hurt and frustrated I was, when I couldn’t do anything to help him.  I wasn’t barred from trying; no one exerted power over me.  They just explained to me that there was nothing I could do.  R’s work was and will be his own.  He wasn’t coherent.  And he might not even remember that night, when he woke up from whatever sleep he found.

These are really hard lessons—to watch someone you care about and feel some responsibility to, go beyond where anyone can reach him.  To know that God is with him and that has to be enough, because right now he’s beyond human help.  To feel another layer of naivete slip off of you, and to know that you will need the skills you’re learning.  To listen to someone explain to you why you cannot help—and to know that he knows because he has been there.  To hear, “I know you want to, but you can’t,” and to feel the love in the voice speaking to you.  To watch people you trust, who know what they are doing, hold the line with patience and compassion.  To remember in your mind, heart, and body what you see and hear them do.

Why do I tell this story?  I’m obviously still wrestling with it.  Beside the pain, there is grace.  After the frustration is expansion, competence, understanding.  This, too, is love.  And this, too, is real.  Jesus walks, here.

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Come walk with us.  Steve Skiffington coordinates shelter nights, and manages the volunteer e-list.  If you’re interested specifically in a ministry of presence, have a skill to share, or ideas for summer projects, contact Kirstin.

Kirstin Paisley

Costa Mantis Films Homeless at Trinity Cathedral