Lambeth Day 16 – 8/2/2008

A room with a view.

For the last two and a half weeks, this has been mine. The above photograph is taken from the one window in my quite comfortable single dorm room in Rutherford College, at the University of Kent. As you can see, I look out on a huge blue tent, appropriately named The Big Top, in which are held all worship services and plenary sessions of the Lambeth Conference, accompanied by its conveniently situated Portaloos in the foreground. Almost every time there is something going on in The Big Top, I am in it (the tent, that is), save for the twice-daily choir rehearsals which are a delight to hear through my open window. Therefore, it is both a graceful and a quiet scene upon which I look.

It would be shamefully easy to make the obvious comments about this sort of tent and the activities one usually associates with it, so I will. While Lambeth 2008 has decidedly not been a circus, one does spot the occasional ecclesiastical acrobat, clown, side-show artist, ringleader, and lion-tamer. I confess to have even taken a turn as the guy who follows the theological elephant with a wheelbarrow and broom.

Most of the time, however, I have found myself feeling a number of things we often go to the circus to feel: awe, excitement, admiration, empathy, delight, joy, and wonder. In The Big Top have been transported by moving liturgies, inspired by stirring homilies, challenged by the reflections of the Archbishop of Canterbury and other lecturers, brought to tears by images from the cyclone in Myanmar, and warmed by the companionship of Christians from around the world who have gathered daily with me to be fed by Jesus.

One circus character who is missing is the one who stands out in the street yelling, “Come one, come all!” In the Anglican Communion we are some distance from an authentic invitation of that universal an inclusivity. Come one, come all. I understand far better today than I did when I unpacked my bag in the shadow of The Big Top why in some parts of the Communion it is impossible to make such an invitation, an invitation to all roles in the Church without regard to human sexuality, and why in other parts of the Communion it is impossible not to. That more full understanding has not resulted in my own convictions on these matters being changed. Indeed, each time I take in the view from my room I can’t help but see those who have been left outside the tent, or only invited in if they will refrain from being fully the persons they know God has made them to be. But it has resulted in my turning more helplessly and hopefully to God to lead us forward.

Much of the hurt in the Church that is caused by our conflicting attitudes about homosexuality and our actions toward homosexuals is exactly where it ought to be, in the Church. The Church is made for the hurt of the world. Yet a considerable amount of it remains outside. Perhaps what most separates us from the healing God yearns to give us are the tent flaps.

Lambeth Day 15 – 8/1/2008

On a handful of occasions during the past two weeks, I have taken the time to look at a newspaper or read a few on-line articles published by the North American and British press. From what I read there about the Lambeth Conference and the Anglican Communion, I imagine that this might well look to the outside like Dysfunction Junction. I console myself with the knowledge that you are discerning readers (especially you who are reading this blog) who recognize that the biggest headlines seem to be made by bishops and archbishops who are not in attendance, and you understand well that news outlets are engaged in a commercial activity whose success depends on the excitement that they can generate out of any particular story. The fact is that little, if any, of what we are doing at the Lambeth Conference is very exciting in the ways that sell newspapers. Put another way, any Good News we can offer is not exactly the good and juicy news for which they are hoping.

So I want to suggest that the depiction of Lambeth 2008 by the religious and secular press as a trade show of our character defects is in most regards a construct of both their frustration with the lack of a story so far and the need to provide something that sells. At the same time, I want to say that in some important ways that is exactly what this gathering is. Were the bishops of the Anglican Communion to come together for this amount of time and not present to one another the challenges, obstacles, difficulties, and wretched personality traits that make becoming the body of Christ so elusive, it would be a tragic waste.

Of course we want the world to see us as well ordered, good natured, mutually affectionate, common minded, and singularly focused on the travails of the world and the salvation of its peoples. That is why we dress up so nicely on Sundays and organize so well for group photos. But in the end we are indeed as most describe us, a family of churches. With determination and a little luck we can make it through Thanksgiving dinner, yet stick around for a while and who we really are will doubtless emerge.

Some of you know that I was quite resistant to the prospect of spending three weeks at this particular family gathering. As we approach our final weekend together, I find that the difficult and sometimes joyful challenge of living and working with the character defects we each bring is paying off. I have endlessly had to confront my own judgementalism, resentfulness, anger, entitlement, self-certainty, and condescension, especially as I have all too quickly identified the same in others. Through individual relationships and group labors, we have been getting somewhere worthy. Among other things, we are coming to understand, and in many cases accept, the reality of who each is, and thereby do we catch the occasional glimpse of what God may see us all to be.

Do not expect for the hard and rewarding work of this conference to result in a tidy product. That would be neither honest nor faithful. If you need tidy, the official photo will have to suffice.

God knows that we are a messy lot. The world may as well know it, too.