PORT, SHERRY AND MADEIRA
If you enjoy demonstrations of why Episcopal sermons are far-and-away the worst in Christendom, welcome tothe Rev. Patricia Templeton Episcopal Cliche Festival:
When I was in college, like many young adults, I wandered away from church. When I came back, more than a decade later, it was to the Episcopal Church, partly because it was the denomination that I had grown up in, but primarily because it was a church that allowed for questioning and searching.
And we’re off.
But at St. Ann’s, the Nashville church that brought me back into the fold, I discovered a whole congregation full of people who saw the life of faith as a journey. Asking questions was encouraged; no one claimed to have the definitive answers, but wrestling with the issues and discussing sometimes wildly opposing viewpoints was seen as the way to grow in faith and understanding.
“No definitive answers.” A good start.
As I’ve mentioned before, there was a time when I had a poster on my office door with a picture of Jesus and these words “He came to take away your sins, not your mind.” One of the primary strengths of the Episcopal Church is that we don’t require you to leave your brain at the church door.
As you can see, the reason this sermon should most definitely not be turned into an Episcopal drinking game is that you’d put away so much booze that you’d either get alcohol poisoning, you’d have anxiety attacks for a week straight or you’d be dead.
Another strength of the Episcopal Church is our comfort with ambiguity. We know that the world is not black and white, and efforts to divide is, and our faith, up that way will not sustain us for long.
See what I mean?
That does not mean we do not know the difference between right and wrong, or that “anything goes,” as our critics sometimes charge. It does mean that we recognize that the world is a complex place, and there are times when there is no absolute answer or “one size fits all” solution to a problem.
Of course we know the difference between right and wrong. “Right” pledges lots of money to Episcopal churches. “Wrong” pledges to the Catholics, the Orthodox or some other dreadful ethnic church like that.
That way of seeing the world means that you are not likely to receive a checklist of dos and don’ts in the Episcopal Church. “Ten things you must believe to be a Christian,” or “Ten things you must not do if you want to go to heaven” are not sermons topics you are likely to hear from this, or any other, Episcopal pulpit.
At this point, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest if somebody yelled out, “Bingo!” But what with the world being a complex place and all, Templeton will, of course, completely contradict herself shortly.
A common criticism of the Episcopal Church is that we have abandoned the Bible. It is true we do not always go with a literal interpretation of scripture. As I’ve heard someone say, “We take scripture far too seriously for that.”
In the old days, when I had to listen to stuff like this, it would be right about this point where I’d stare at the floor, squeezing the ink out of the prayer books and thinking thoughts I’d rather not relate to a family audience, thanks for asking.
Taking the Bible literally has led to persecution of Jews, the defense of slavery, the subjugation of women, and the condemnation of gays and lesbians. All of these positions can be defended by Bible passages.
The reason why you never engage brain-dead bumper stickers like that one is that you invariably end up asking,”Let me see if I understand you correctly, Rev. Templeton. Are you saying that homosexual activity is no longer a sin because of slavery? Does that mean that because the Israelites owned slaves, I can have a three-way with my sister-in-law and my best friend’s hot wife?”
Know something? If they’d had iPhones or iPod Touches back in 2003, I might still be an Episcopalian. I could have read and answered my e-mail, checked my Twitter feed, downloaded an app or two and blown through three complete levels of Angry Birds in the time it took Ms. Templeton to get to this point.
But taking scripture seriously means looking at the overall message of the Bible, not isolated passages taken out of context. It means looking at the good news, or gospel tidings that are found in both testaments of scripture. It means looking at the context in which a passage was written, and comparing it to the times in which we live.
Cherry-picking “Context,” in other words. A deity that adapts to his creation rather than the other way around. I’m glad Templeton worked that one in because it’s always been one of my favorites.
Sometimes living and proclaiming the good news of scripture means saying and doing things that seem to go against isolated Bible texts.
Correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t the good news of scripture to be found in isolated Bible texts? I always thought it was.
The controversy that has consumed the national church in recent years, the full inclusion of gays and lesbians in the life of the church, including ordination and blessing of relationships, is one that has brought the charge that the church has abandoned scripture.
Which it has. But Templeton’s just getting warmed up.
Yet people I know who support those changes do so after much prayer and study of scripture.
Søren? Want to take this one?
We do so believing that Jesus’ message of love and acceptance of those who society has cast out overrides any isolated verse of condemnation.
“Marginalization.” Right on schedule.
We do so because we believe the Holy Spirit is still at work in the church, leading us to new understandings.
Liberal Mormonism Progressive revelation. Check
We do so because we believe that God is still able to do new things.
Including change His mind? Then I wouldn’t count on anything beyond this life if I were you, something which used to be the whole point of this Christianity stuff.
One may disagree with this interpretation of scripture, but to say that the Church has thrown scripture out the window is a false accusation.
Wrong. But thanks for playing. We have some lovely parting gifts for you.
A related criticism of the Episcopal Church is that we are too involved in “progressive politics.”
Really? Shut up!
But I believe one of our strengths is that we do not isolate ourselves from the world.
We just engage it in whatever way Rachel Maddow tells us to.
We take to heart the admonition that we heard in scripture today – to love our neighbors as ourselves.
An isolated Bible text, by the way.
Indeed, we know that the best way to show our love for God is to love our neighbors – which means working for justice and peace, standing up for the poor, being good stewards of the environment, and speaking out against the greed and consumerism rampant in our culture.
And there’s apparently one way and only one way to do that. There go those ”the world is not black and white” and “there is no absolute answer or ‘one size fits all’ solution to a problem” claims that Templeton just got done making.
We know that being faithful does not mean withdrawing from the world, but instead means working to help make the kingdom of God a reality here and now.
But since there may actually be one or two of you out there who still believe in that “heaven” crap, let me just get this meaningless boilerplate in.
Finally, another strength of our church is that we do not insist that we have all the answers, and are the only path to salvation. For most of us here today, Jesus is indeed our way, and our truth, and our life.
Most of you?
In Jesus, we see the embodiment of God and what it means to lives a human life fully attuned to God’s presence and will.
Okay, does anybody know what that means?
For us, Jesus is our way to salvation.
“Salvation,” of course, meaning the blessed ability to spend our days thanking God that we are not as other men are.
But most Episcopalians I know also respect people of other faiths, and believe that they, too, are on paths that can lead to God. Most of us believe that God is bigger than any one faith; that the God who created all humans in the divine image, who created the diversity of peoples and languages and cultures, has also created different paths to the divine.
If you’re scoring it home you can cross the “many paths to God” and “the Cross as first-century political performance art” cliches off the list. Very nicely done. If Templeton works in the one about the three-cornered stool, this sermon of hers will be an instant classic. But don’t get Patricia Templeton wrong. She’s honest enough to admit that the Episcopal Organization does have problems.
The leadership of our church, particularly our bishops and clergy, have not done enough to educate and help people articulate the nuances of our faith. Too many times I’ve heard Episcopalians say, “I just didn’t know how to respond,” when our more fundamentalist neighbors or friends criticize our denomination.
Ms. Templeton? The fact of the matter is that the reason why you Episcopalians tend to get criticized by your “more fundamentalist neighbors or friends” as often as you do is that what you call a nuance, they know is a dodge, part of your whole make-our-theology-fit-what-we’ve-already-decided approach that TEO has polished to perfection.
Too often our so-called leaders have simply failed to lead. One prime example of that was in the aftermath of Gene Robinson’s election as bishop of New Hampshire, the first publicly gay bishop in our church. I heard too many clergy say then, “I knew this was going to happen, but I just didn’t want to bring it up in my congregation. I didn’t want to upset people.”
True enough. Episcopalians, particularly “moderate” ones, have never been known for possessing spines. But when is Templeton going to get to the one about the three-cornered stool? Everyone’s looking forward to it.
But not all the onus is on the clergy. People who want to be able to articulate their faith need to regularly be part of a community where those discussions take place – like our adult Sunday School or Tuesday morning classes.
Pretty gutsy, calling ‘em morons like that. But where’s the three-cornered stool? Templeton’s running out of time.
The only time I feel a little bit envious of Southern Baptists is when I drive past the full parking lots in the Baptist Church on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings, even in the summer.
There’s a term for lines like that. WAY too easy.
St. Dunstan’s, and indeed, the Episcopal Church, are not alone in this challenge. At a conference I attended with clergy from several denominations across the country the common lament was how to get people to church on Sunday.
Let me guess. There were no Southern Baptists or Roman Catholics there. And the Pentecostals you invited couldn’t make it because they had so many well-attended services at their churches that they didn’t have the time to attend a conference on how to increase church attendance.
Maybe we as the church have been too reluctant to say what the soccer coaches have no problem saying – we need you to be here. When you’re away we miss you. We are less than we could be without you. And, I would add, you’re less than you could be without us.
You may think I know what I’m talking about but I don’t. For example, I don’t have the slightest idea how to reconcile “You’re less than you could be without us” with “People of other faiths…are on paths that can lead to God.” If it doesn’t matter where or what folks worship, why does it matter if they worship at some place other than St. Dunstan’s? Or if they don’t worship at all?
We have a vibrant, vital denomination – and congregation – that offers a perspective on Christianity
that the world needs to hear, a message that is particularly relevant for our lives and time.
What with there being many paths to God and all, the world evidently doesn’t need to hear the Episcopal message that much.
Let’s not be reluctant to share what we have with the world around us.
Even though the world doesn’t really need to hear it.
Amen.
No three-cornered stool. SO close to perfection yet so far away. Sad, really.
When I was in college, like many young adults, I wandered away from church. When I came back, more than a decade later, it was to the Episcopal Church, partly because it was the denomination that I had grown up in, but primarily because it was a church that allowed for questioning and searching.
And we’re off.
But at St. Ann’s, the Nashville church that brought me back into the fold, I discovered a whole congregation full of people who saw the life of faith as a journey. Asking questions was encouraged; no one claimed to have the definitive answers, but wrestling with the issues and discussing sometimes wildly opposing viewpoints was seen as the way to grow in faith and understanding.
“No definitive answers.” A good start.
As I’ve mentioned before, there was a time when I had a poster on my office door with a picture of Jesus and these words “He came to take away your sins, not your mind.” One of the primary strengths of the Episcopal Church is that we don’t require you to leave your brain at the church door.
As you can see, the reason this sermon should most definitely not be turned into an Episcopal drinking game is that you’d put away so much booze that you’d either get alcohol poisoning, you’d have anxiety attacks for a week straight or you’d be dead.
Another strength of the Episcopal Church is our comfort with ambiguity. We know that the world is not black and white, and efforts to divide is, and our faith, up that way will not sustain us for long.
See what I mean?
That does not mean we do not know the difference between right and wrong, or that “anything goes,” as our critics sometimes charge. It does mean that we recognize that the world is a complex place, and there are times when there is no absolute answer or “one size fits all” solution to a problem.
Of course we know the difference between right and wrong. “Right” pledges lots of money to Episcopal churches. “Wrong” pledges to the Catholics, the Orthodox or some other dreadful ethnic church like that.
That way of seeing the world means that you are not likely to receive a checklist of dos and don’ts in the Episcopal Church. “Ten things you must believe to be a Christian,” or “Ten things you must not do if you want to go to heaven” are not sermons topics you are likely to hear from this, or any other, Episcopal pulpit.
At this point, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest if somebody yelled out, “Bingo!” But what with the world being a complex place and all, Templeton will, of course, completely contradict herself shortly.
A common criticism of the Episcopal Church is that we have abandoned the Bible. It is true we do not always go with a literal interpretation of scripture. As I’ve heard someone say, “We take scripture far too seriously for that.”
In the old days, when I had to listen to stuff like this, it would be right about this point where I’d stare at the floor, squeezing the ink out of the prayer books and thinking thoughts I’d rather not relate to a family audience, thanks for asking.
Taking the Bible literally has led to persecution of Jews, the defense of slavery, the subjugation of women, and the condemnation of gays and lesbians. All of these positions can be defended by Bible passages.
The reason why you never engage brain-dead bumper stickers like that one is that you invariably end up asking,”Let me see if I understand you correctly, Rev. Templeton. Are you saying that homosexual activity is no longer a sin because of slavery? Does that mean that because the Israelites owned slaves, I can have a three-way with my sister-in-law and my best friend’s hot wife?”
Know something? If they’d had iPhones or iPod Touches back in 2003, I might still be an Episcopalian. I could have read and answered my e-mail, checked my Twitter feed, downloaded an app or two and blown through three complete levels of Angry Birds in the time it took Ms. Templeton to get to this point.
But taking scripture seriously means looking at the overall message of the Bible, not isolated passages taken out of context. It means looking at the good news, or gospel tidings that are found in both testaments of scripture. It means looking at the context in which a passage was written, and comparing it to the times in which we live.
Sometimes living and proclaiming the good news of scripture means saying and doing things that seem to go against isolated Bible texts.
Correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t the good news of scripture to be found in isolated Bible texts? I always thought it was.
The controversy that has consumed the national church in recent years, the full inclusion of gays and lesbians in the life of the church, including ordination and blessing of relationships, is one that has brought the charge that the church has abandoned scripture.
Which it has. But Templeton’s just getting warmed up.
Yet people I know who support those changes do so after much prayer and study of scripture.
Søren? Want to take this one?
We do so believing that Jesus’ message of love and acceptance of those who society has cast out overrides any isolated verse of condemnation.
“Marginalization.” Right on schedule.
We do so because we believe the Holy Spirit is still at work in the church, leading us to new understandings.
We do so because we believe that God is still able to do new things.
Including change His mind? Then I wouldn’t count on anything beyond this life if I were you, something which used to be the whole point of this Christianity stuff.
One may disagree with this interpretation of scripture, but to say that the Church has thrown scripture out the window is a false accusation.
Wrong. But thanks for playing. We have some lovely parting gifts for you.
A related criticism of the Episcopal Church is that we are too involved in “progressive politics.”
Really? Shut up!
But I believe one of our strengths is that we do not isolate ourselves from the world.
We just engage it in whatever way Rachel Maddow tells us to.
We take to heart the admonition that we heard in scripture today – to love our neighbors as ourselves.
An isolated Bible text, by the way.
Indeed, we know that the best way to show our love for God is to love our neighbors – which means working for justice and peace, standing up for the poor, being good stewards of the environment, and speaking out against the greed and consumerism rampant in our culture.
And there’s apparently one way and only one way to do that. There go those ”the world is not black and white” and “there is no absolute answer or ‘one size fits all’ solution to a problem” claims that Templeton just got done making.
We know that being faithful does not mean withdrawing from the world, but instead means working to help make the kingdom of God a reality here and now.
But since there may actually be one or two of you out there who still believe in that “heaven” crap, let me just get this meaningless boilerplate in.
Finally, another strength of our church is that we do not insist that we have all the answers, and are the only path to salvation. For most of us here today, Jesus is indeed our way, and our truth, and our life.
Most of you?
In Jesus, we see the embodiment of God and what it means to lives a human life fully attuned to God’s presence and will.
Okay, does anybody know what that means?
For us, Jesus is our way to salvation.
“Salvation,” of course, meaning the blessed ability to spend our days thanking God that we are not as other men are.
But most Episcopalians I know also respect people of other faiths, and believe that they, too, are on paths that can lead to God. Most of us believe that God is bigger than any one faith; that the God who created all humans in the divine image, who created the diversity of peoples and languages and cultures, has also created different paths to the divine.
If you’re scoring it home you can cross the “many paths to God” and “the Cross as first-century political performance art” cliches off the list. Very nicely done. If Templeton works in the one about the three-cornered stool, this sermon of hers will be an instant classic. But don’t get Patricia Templeton wrong. She’s honest enough to admit that the Episcopal Organization does have problems.
The leadership of our church, particularly our bishops and clergy, have not done enough to educate and help people articulate the nuances of our faith. Too many times I’ve heard Episcopalians say, “I just didn’t know how to respond,” when our more fundamentalist neighbors or friends criticize our denomination.
Ms. Templeton? The fact of the matter is that the reason why you Episcopalians tend to get criticized by your “more fundamentalist neighbors or friends” as often as you do is that what you call a nuance, they know is a dodge, part of your whole make-our-theology-fit-what-we’ve-already-decided approach that TEO has polished to perfection.
Too often our so-called leaders have simply failed to lead. One prime example of that was in the aftermath of Gene Robinson’s election as bishop of New Hampshire, the first publicly gay bishop in our church. I heard too many clergy say then, “I knew this was going to happen, but I just didn’t want to bring it up in my congregation. I didn’t want to upset people.”
True enough. Episcopalians, particularly “moderate” ones, have never been known for possessing spines. But when is Templeton going to get to the one about the three-cornered stool? Everyone’s looking forward to it.
But not all the onus is on the clergy. People who want to be able to articulate their faith need to regularly be part of a community where those discussions take place – like our adult Sunday School or Tuesday morning classes.
Pretty gutsy, calling ‘em morons like that. But where’s the three-cornered stool? Templeton’s running out of time.
The only time I feel a little bit envious of Southern Baptists is when I drive past the full parking lots in the Baptist Church on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings, even in the summer.
There’s a term for lines like that. WAY too easy.
St. Dunstan’s, and indeed, the Episcopal Church, are not alone in this challenge. At a conference I attended with clergy from several denominations across the country the common lament was how to get people to church on Sunday.
Let me guess. There were no Southern Baptists or Roman Catholics there. And the Pentecostals you invited couldn’t make it because they had so many well-attended services at their churches that they didn’t have the time to attend a conference on how to increase church attendance.
Maybe we as the church have been too reluctant to say what the soccer coaches have no problem saying – we need you to be here. When you’re away we miss you. We are less than we could be without you. And, I would add, you’re less than you could be without us.
You may think I know what I’m talking about but I don’t. For example, I don’t have the slightest idea how to reconcile “You’re less than you could be without us” with “People of other faiths…are on paths that can lead to God.” If it doesn’t matter where or what folks worship, why does it matter if they worship at some place other than St. Dunstan’s? Or if they don’t worship at all?
We have a vibrant, vital denomination – and congregation – that offers a perspective on Christianity
that the world needs to hear, a message that is particularly relevant for our lives and time.
What with there being many paths to God and all, the world evidently doesn’t need to hear the Episcopal message that much.
Let’s not be reluctant to share what we have with the world around us.
Even though the world doesn’t really need to hear it.
Amen.
No three-cornered stool. SO close to perfection yet so far away. Sad, really.
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