My struggles as Director of Faith Formation

On January 4, 2021, I resigned as Director of Faith Formation at the Saint Clare of Assisi Catholic Church on Daniel Island, in Charleston, South Carolina. I began in the position in July 2019, moving my family from our home in Colorado where we had lived for fourteen years. Only months into what I had anticipated as an opportunity to work in deeply mystagogical ways with adults, children, and their families, I discovered barriers in worship and patterns of spirituality that spoke to larger issues in that parish, and in the Catholic Church in general, that needed to be addressed.

As I undertook to identify those issues fully and to work with our pastor and other staff members to develop an integrated approach to address them, I ran into a morass of hidden agendas, attempts to silence and redirect the narrative, and the surprising complexities of debate and division within the Catholic world that were deeply affecting our young parish. I discovered as well, through the insights of a former member of the pastoral council who had also been part of my interview team, that concerned parish leaders had hoped I would become a champion for voices in the parish who had attempted and failed to address the challenges of pastoral leadership, liturgical collapse, and ministry fragmentation we continued to face.

What follows is a summary of my approach to the problems I discovered along with additional observations that led to my resignation.

Late October 2019, our priest announced his plans to shift to ad orientem in the mass during Advent. I began to explore why he wanted to make that change and the reasons I and others felt so strongly that we should not. Not long into that effort, I realized that we were wrestling with that particular issue without the advantage of a clear sense of our identity and purpose as a parish—without a clear vision—and that we had an opportunity to discover both deeper issues and potential in the body life of our community.

Very quickly my attention shifted, as I explained in the ensuing document, to an attempt “to evaluate all aspects of parish life such that we would have a basis from which to find a way forward, as a staff, to help develop Saint Clare of Assisi Catholic Church into that vibrant, kerygmatic community in which all comers can encounter and grow into a profound and fruitful relationship with Jesus Christ” (“Considerations for Building the Body of Christ” aka “Thoughts Moving Forward”). I began sharing versions of that evolving evaluation with our pastor in December 2019 with the hope that we would use it as a basis for discussion and planning as a staff. Sadly, he cautioned me not to share it with other staff members and for a long time failed to respond directly the the concerns and suggestions it contained, which included a very personal appeal to recognize the urgency to address the issues with clarity.

In my role, I explained, I have received a great deal of feedback during my short time in this parish. Some has been very positive, and all has been offered by those who clearly care about our parish and its impact. I discovered that many are deeply alarmed by the direction we have taken in the mass and ways our worship impacts the vitality and effectiveness of other aspects of our identity and mission. The potential shift to ad orientem was only one of the small but impactive things I witnessed that appear to deny the inclinations I believe the Holy Spirit has developed in our parish and that demonstrate an undefined but active agenda that works against our ability and desire to fulfill our calling as the body of Christ. As I listened and observed, I worked to look as objectively and yet realistically as possible at the parish out of my own experience and training while making every effort to assure others who have brought their concerns that we have good things to celebrate and build on, even as we look to confront and correct those things that need attention.

The concerns were and are significant enough, though, that there is urgency in the need to address them. Many of our staff also desired to have opportunity to discuss those concerns and to seek a way forward that can result in a revitalization of our ministry at Saint Clare, and it was their sense that we have not addressed them directly or adequately that appears to have played a role in the resignation of several staff members, including my predecessor, our previous music and liturgy director, and most recently, our coordinator of children’s ministries.

I indicated that I was deeply concerned myself. “Because our worship is the heart of the church, the very embodiment of her identity and mission from which both are derived and empowered,” I wrote, “the concerns related to the mass are those that need to be addressed most urgently” (“Considerations”). Putting my level of concern in very personal terms, I continued,

A parish can survive for a long time while remaining entrenched in forms and practices that are not ideal, but worship that risks stifling the Holy Spirit and dampening the joy and expression of God’s people can too easily become a slow death for a community that is struggling to demonstrate to its members and to the world the compelling love of Christ and the joy of serving him.

I must confess that such a risk as I have seen it at Saint Clare has become for me something of a crisis of faith and mission. When I interviewed, my impression was that Saint Clare was in many ways appropriately progressive in terms of her formation efforts, willing to learn and try approaches that are not typical in the Catholic world. I found that to be true in many ways, and I have enjoyed the flexibility to further evolve those efforts and to find glimpses that our work has been effective and well-received. But I was wrong to think the worship at Saint Clare was equally forward-looking and discovered quickly that the Catholic Church, from this vantage, looks very different than the one I and my famliy came to call home. I felt called to be a part of Saint Clare, but even as my professional concern grew at the signs of incongruity between our worship and the vitality for which we long in our parish, I became alarmed to find that I was questioning my place in the church and whether or not the reality I was seeing was more indicative of the church’s true identity than what I had known of the church before coming to Charleston.

I am praying for a renewal of the sense that the Catholic Church is the place in which I can worship and serve with confidence that she embodies the gospel in the best possible way. I am praying especially that Saint Clare becomes a parish in which I can continue to serve with genuine passion and the hope that we are all working together to discover what Christ desires us to be. Even as I write this, I am still worried that I have to be too guarded in the ways I present the concerns I have mentioned and others have brought. I feel the need to describe them with weight befitting their significance but with tact that keeps the criticism from appearing too severe. That I have to tread so carefully is a concern itself that I pray is unfounded, but I do hope it is perceived as a desire to build on what is good and to find constructive ways to examine and evolve those things that can become a rich and healthy foundation to all aspects of our life and ministry as the body of Christ. (“Considerations”)

One element of disquiet I never thought I would encounter has been the capitulation of the church (culture as well) to the minor threat of the coronavirus. Rather than continue to worship the Lord of all creation, boldly approaching the throne of grace and demonstrating to all the world that what we believe is true, about Christ, about his active and potent presence in our worship, about his sacramental gift of himself in the mass, about his call to enter suffering and death with the confidence in his promise to save all things through death and resurrection, we declared through our actions that suffering and death are to be feared and avoided. Even apart from consideration of Christ, a reasonable and measured response to the reality of any threat was nowhere to be found. In that absence, the church could and should have proclaimed by its worship the hope of Jesus, rooted in the very source of redemption and healing.

And all of this is in the face of a threat that was and is, quite frankly, less potent than many humankind has faced and still faces in the course of life in a fallen world. We have enough evidence to suggest that the ‘safe’ practices in which we have engaged are not really going to mitigate the virus (it may delay some from getting it, but it will always be around). At the same time, even with surges in infection, the death rate has dropped by more than 60% since June (and continues to drop such that it is a fallacy to suggest that death is common). More and more evidence challenges the ‘accepted’ narrative that this virus is worse than the flu and other related illnesses, and we have imposed as much harm as we have helped through the restrictions. The church, including our own parish, capitulated to fear, culture, and even to insurance companies over Christ himself, undermining the truth we claim by our actions. Our own worship with masks and elimination of critical elements, such as the peace, the blood of Christ, and communion within the mass (as we did for a time), was and is not really the worship of a people confident in the grace and mercy of our Lord.

For me, this capitulation added to my concerns about the church and my participation in it. For those for whom we are responsible, we further obscured the presence and activity of the Holy Spirit and deepened the urgency to restore the integrity of our worship, the authenticity of our hope in the present and future kingdom of God, and the joy of knowing and serving the Lord of all creation, in season and out of season, even when it runs counter to the prevailing narratives of fear and isolation. To the world that sees the minor threat as apocalypse and retreats behind presumptions of a facile social ‘unity’, fleeting ‘protection’, and false ‘compassion’, the church could proclaim the depth of grace, mercy, and salvation in the face of all threats with the courage of the redeemed in Christ who do not fear to risk everything, even health and safety, to proclaim Christ and the hope of the new creation.

As I explored these and other concerns in the document I came to call “Thoughts Moving Forward” and asked for our pastor’s help in exploring them as a staff, I watched my own family and others withdraw from worship and parish life in ways that betrayed their disillusionment with the church and its ability to embody the joy of the gospel and an abiding faith in our Lord reflected in all we are and do as the people of God, a living sacrament of his kingdom. My wife and sons, like many in the parish, began to yearn for life-giving evidence of the presence of the Spirit in the church and expressed again and again that we are not going to find it at Saint Clare. Even as I have struggled myself, I have watched them sink deeper into depression and apathy to the point where I feel we have to go elsewhere to rediscover the presence of Christ and the joy of serving him.

After nine months and our pastor’s caution not to share the evaluation with anyone else, he finally made an overture to explore the concerns I had been raising, and I saw his visit in August 2020 over dinner a glimmer of hope that we might begin that process of discussion, even as a staff, that might help us openly and honestly develop a vision for mission and ministry that might revitalize our parish and restore the joy for which we had been yearning. That hope has since faded, as he did not followed though with the time and attention he promised to give to those concerns nor the pastoral care I thought he might extend to my family and to all who have shared their own concerns with me through the past year. In fact, that hope dissipated altogether as I witnessed more small, but potent, signs of an unarticulated agenda that I believe runs counter to the work of the Spirit that has triggered the concerns of people in the parish who are hungry for worship and leadership that courageously embodies the challenge and joy of the gospel. I also witnessed a tendency towards historical and theological revisionism, both in some of the curriculum that we have used from popular Catholic sources (Ascension Press’ Epic: The Early Church series especially) and in our pastor’s desire to continue to use that curriculum, as well as from comments he made in classes he led, in homilies, and in other contexts. Such things belied the truth we presumed to proclaim.

Until July 2020, our pastor had been leading two parishes, which is certainly not easy, especially as he was also handling a building program. Some of the concerns I mentioned also relate to issues of leadership and vision beyond the parish. I was surprised to discover, though, that both taking on the second parish, Saint Mary of the Annunciation in Charleston, and building in the more elaborate, expensive style (the gothic cathedral), were made over the objections of concerned voices in the parish, including those serving as leaders on our councils. I came to see both, especially the building program, as analogous to the way the Catholic Church has in many ways obscured the very gospel and the apostolic faith she claims to preserve and embody. Although he resigned as pastor of Saint Mary’s, we did not witness a renewed vigor in pastoral leadership at Saint Clare, although the building program received a great deal of time and attention. As it continued to evolve under his careful and energetic guidance, still to the detriment of other ministry, it too impeded rather than advanced our call to embody the mission of the body of Christ.

As I watched the costs of the building balloon from the astounding to the ridiculous even as its value to the mission of our parish diminished, I began to despair that the values espoused by our Lord, values we have been trying desperately to reflect in our ministry in formation and evangelism in the parish, would ever fully define our priorities or find expression and foundation in the worship of our local community. As the costs skyrocketed, many compromises were made to the plans, including a significant reduction in the number of pews it could accommodate. The parish will have a beautiful building, but its reduced capacity will mean fewer opportunities to worship together as a body, especially at those times like Christmas and Easter when more than usual would hope to attend. Also missing will be the spaces necessary for robust formation programs and gatherings outside of the mass, not to mention facilities that I hoped would one day support mission-minded service ministry, as they were shunted to latter phases.

One of the biggest barriers to consistency in our formation and evangelism efforts had been a difficult and often contentious relationship with Bishop England High School, where we had been sharing autitorium and classroom space. At its best, that relationship left us with less than ideal access to facilities and imposed a significant burden on staff and volunteers to facilitate ministry. The additional space afforded by larger administrative offices into which we moved in June 2019, while helpful, remained limited and expensive. I came to fear that increased debt and the burden of maintaining both a new building and the continuing expenses of office and classroom space not addressed in the first phase of construction would significantly delay our ability to address those needs. The beautiful building will, in its inadequacy, perpetuate barriers to mission in the local parish, even as the worship space, clearly designed to support “traditional” forms and aesthetics rooted in more medieval than apostolic norms, will continue to obscure the vitality of worship that is dynamic, compelling, and life-giving.

The edifice of transcendent beauty that emphasizes solemnity and ‘tradition’ over joy and mission does seem to me to parallel the all-too-rigid edifice of presumed infallibility of the truth of the Church that has dimmed the light of the gospel in much of the Catholic faith. The concerns I have raised at what I have witnessed at Saint Clare have driven a renewed urgency in my studies of the Fathers and divines Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant, and I have come to the realization that the restored communion of the one, holy, apostolic church will require as much humble reform of the Catholic Church—even through honest reexamination of the hitherto unassailable magisterium—as the submission we often expect of our ‘separated brethren’. The Catholic Church has begun in recent decades to rediscover some of the essential nature of the gospel and our call to mission, which is what brought me and my family to her nearly nine years ago, but it continues to struggle under a great deal of baggage codified and blessed as ‘apostolic’ that is not and that has made that rediscovery falter. The fullness of truth is found not in the Catholic Church but in the gospel of our Lord to which we must again submit all assumptions of ‘Sacred Tradition’, seeking with our brothers and sisters in the truly universal (catholic) church the unobscured, foundational truth of the Spirit of God who challenges all of his people to bear the joy and grace of Jesus Christ to a fallen world. With Pope Francis, I have come to “dream of a ‘missionary option’, that is, a missionary impulse capable of transforming everything, so that the Church’s customs, ways of doing things, times and schedules, language and structures can be suitably channeled for the evangelization of today’s world rather than for her self-preservation” (Evangelii Gaudium, 27). His radical, call is, I firmly believe, the call of Christ himself to his church.

The renewal of structures demanded by pastoral conversion can only be understood in this light: as part of an effort to make them more mission-oriented, to make ordinary pastoral activity on every level more inclusive and open, to inspire in pastoral workers a constant desire to go forth and in this way to elicit a positive response from all those whom Jesus summons to friendship with himself. As John Paul II once said to the Bishops of Oceania: “All renewal in the Church must have mission as its goal if it is not to fall prey to a kind of ecclesial introversion.” (EG, 27)

In her ongoing discernment, the Church can also come to see that certain customs not directly connected to the heart of the Gospel, even some which have deep historical roots, are no longer properly understood and appreciated. Some of these customs may be beautiful, but they no longer serve as means of communicating the Gospel. We should not be afraid to re-examine them. At the same time, the Church has rules or precepts which may have been quite effective in their time, but no longer have the same usefulness for directing and shaping people’s lives. Saint Thomas Aquinas pointed out that the precepts which Christ and the apostles gave to the people of God “are very few.” Citing Saint Augustine, he noted that the precepts subsequently enjoined by the Church should be insisted upon with moderation “so as not to burden the lives of the faithful” and make our religion a form of servitude, whereas “God’s mercy has willed that we should be free.” This warning, issued many centuries ago, is most timely today. It ought to be one of the criteria to be taken into account in considering a reform of the Church and her preaching which would enable it to reach everyone. (EG, 43)

I am convinced that rather than a conviction that she embodies in perfection the apostolic tradition, the Catholic Church needs to see herself more as the disciple still seeking that truth and willing to submit all she has learned and become to the refining scrutiny of the Spirit that leads her to a maturity yet to be realized. Again, as Pope Francis perceptively argues,

The Church is herself a missionary disciple; she needs to grow in her interpretation of the revealed word and in her understanding of truth. It is the task of exegetes and theologians to help “the judgment of the Church to mature.” The other sciences also help to accomplish this, each in its own way. With reference to the social sciences, for example, John Paul II said that the Church values their research, which helps her “to derive concrete indications helpful for her magisterial mission.” Within the Church countless issues are being studied and reflected upon with great freedom. Differing currents of thought in philosophy, theology and pastoral practice, if open to being reconciled by the Spirit in respect and love, can enable the Church to grow, since all of them help to express more clearly the immense riches of God’s word. For those who long for a monolithic body of doctrine guarded by all and leaving no room for nuance, this might appear as undesirable and leading to confusion. But in fact such variety serves to bring out and develop different facets of the inexhaustible riches of the Gospel. (EG, 40)

The deep and life-giving truth of God extends beyond the Catholic Church and her magisterium, and I saw in Vatican II and in the leadership of recent leaders a sensitivity to that reality when I entered the Catholic Church. I have not agreed with everything Pope Francis has done and said, but I have found in him and other recent popes a willingness to think anew about the challenges the gospel presents to the church and the willingness to submit everything to our risen Lord in an effort to reform and refocus all we are and do with God’s redemptive mission at the center. I have struggled to find that same willingness in our leadership at Saint Clare.

I encountered it in some of our people, and I worked to support and equip them as much as possible. I have witnessed in some of our most engaged members, who have worked often in partial and uncoordinated efforts, a laudable desire to push the boundaries of tradition and expectation for the sake of the gospel. Until a clear vision built around the joy of knowing Jesus and inviting others to do the same, with great risk to ourselves and the comfort of our Catholic ‘culture’, permeates our worship and sacramental life, our stewardship and building programs, and all of our formation efforts, formal and informal, those partial and isolated efforts will falter.

Even as I have resigned, I pray that vision develops and bears fruit at Saint Clare, but my hope that it will has dimmed. I have spent most of my adult life preaching and teaching the truth of the gospel, often at great cost to livelihood and security and very often challenging the traditions of the faith to which I have belonged. I found some fulfillment in doing so at Saint Clare and some in the parish hungry and receptive to a deeper call to realize the mission of Christ, but I also encountered the need to compromise what I have learned to be the truth of Christ and the hope of the new creation to an extent that puts me at odds with the vision of the church our pastor and others, some of the staff included, appeared to embrace. While I struggled to remain faithful to our Lord in asking our pastor to explore reform in our community, I found many of those efforts marginalized, and I came to realize that I could not stay while I watch hope fade in my own family and others who care most deeply in the parish.

Layers of hermeneutical context

My Biblical Hermeneutics students often struggled to understand the many layers of context we see in scripture, all of which are important to understand in both their uniqueness and interrelationship if we are to most fully and appropriately understand scripture as it relates to theology and the life of the church both in history and today. The following diagram attempts to capture those layers and their scope in relationship to one another.

layers-of-hermeneutical-context

 

The crisis of Anglican identity and authority

The Anglican Communion is not unfamiliar with impact of postmodernism and the cultural accretions that have devalued the kerygmatic authority of the twin pillars of word and sacrament upon which its worship is built. Like any other segment of the Christian community, it is susceptible to the individualism that reinvents these encounters with revelation and mystery as accommodations to self-affirming spirituality. And its people, perhaps especially in the evangelically-minded Anglican Mission, are often tempted by the inwardly-focused and potentially self-absorbed spirituality characteristic of so many ‘seeker-sensitive’ models for worship, discipleship, and evangelism.

Anglicans are also acquainted with controversy, theological and otherwise, and have become expert at holding together tensions of various kinds while preserving communion. This famous Anglican method, often celebrated as a communion-preserving via media, is now viewed by many as an insipid failure to define and live by any sort of biblical and doctrinal authority. As much as Anglican worship, theology, and practice may be well-grounded in biblical and historical tradition and informed by reason and experience, the standards by which one might measure any sort of Anglican orthodoxy or orthopraxis have themselves become blurred. The ever-shifting political questions of the relationship between provinces, alignments on one side or another of various issues, and the very serious and central problem of defining the source and nature of authority in the Anglican world have called into question the essence of Anglicanism and any claims to unity among its adherents.

To posit any uniform Anglican sacramental theology or to assume any common spiritual maturity among the people in any expression of the Anglican Communion would be foolish. The Anglican Mission has staked its doctrinal claims as clearly as any conservative Anglican organization. Yet the self-conscious inclusion of “…evangelical, anglo-catholic and charismatic influences, like three streams flowing together as one river in Jesus Christ” leads to some measure of ambiguity in liturgical convention with plenty of disagreement over the choice of prayer books and ongoing discussion over the whether the true face of Anglicanism is or should be reformed, anglo-catholic, or something else entirely.(1) And with the wonderful appearance of so many in the Mission who have traveled these same three streams, and others, from traditions outside Anglicanism, the three are really many more.

These deep questions about an Anglican identity and spirituality make any attempt to engage in the effective spiritual formation of Anglicans that will prepare them to become a missional presence in any community difficult. Nearly every Anglican pundit, from the theologian to the episcopal leader to the person in the pew, will admit to the fact that something is terribly wrong, that “Anglicanism is undergoing severe rending, and American Anglicanism is at the heart of it in a negative way,” as the Rev. Dr. Joseph P. Murphy so directly stated in a recent email. What really needs to be done, as Dr. Murphy continued to advise, before we can embark on any constructive reformation of a distinctively Anglican model for spiritual formation, is “to identify what is amiss in contemporary American Anglican spirituality.”(2)

To what then do we turn to establish the standard against which contemporary Anglican spirituality is measured and from which we could draw to establish a new vision for the Anglican Communion and its churches, old and new? What is the essence of Anglicanism to which we must appeal to quiet the controversy and reestablish what it means to engage in the mission of Christ? Rather perceptively, Sykes, Booty, and Knight, in their extensive Study of Anglicanism summarize the problem this way:

One approach to the question of the essence of Anglicanism is to look at various formulations of Anglican self-definition through the centuries…. Anglican exercises in self-definition fall broadly into two categories: those that focus on the material ingredients of the Anglican synthesis—Scripture, tradition, reason and so on—and those that claim a distinctive method, ethos or praxis for the Anglican way. Those in the first category hark back to the formation of Anglicanism in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Between the English Reformation and the Oxford Movement there was a consensus as to the identity of Anglicanism as a reformed church confessing with all the Reformers the supreme authority of Scripture, justification by faith, the legitimate role of the laity (embodied in the sovereign and parliament) in the government of the church, and a particular national and regional identity. Those in the second category of Anglican self-identity—the appeal to an elusive ethos—belong to the period since the Oxford movement, for the radical Tractarians successfully challenged this consensus by asserting the authority of tradition (“The Church to teach, the Bible to prove”), compromising the forensic doctrine of justification by faith with the notion of justification by infused sacramental grace, clericalizing the government of the church and repudiating the partnership between church and a now partly secularized state.(3)

A vague notion of “a tacit consensus residing in a common ethos,” which Sykes, Booty, and Knight characterize as “a post factum accommodation of the demise of doctrinal accord within the church,” is a rather unsatisfactory basis on which to establish any kind of Anglican orthodoxy. It is equally inadequate as a foundation on which to build any kind of positive, biblically grounded, and culturally impactive method for discipling new and lifetime Anglicans alike into the likeness and mission of Christ. Such an ambiguous “conceptual construction, a pragmatic adjustment to the facts of history” leaves us with nothing in which to anchor any inquiry or justification, theological or otherwise, for one particular approach over another.(4) If indeed such a consensus really lies in the via media between a catholic and reformed vision of the Anglican church, two obvious polarities coexisting within contemporary Anglicanism, the question remains where to turn for answers to the theological questions which must undergird both choices of praxis and content in preaching and teaching with “weight and substance.”(5) The vague notion of balance, inclusion, and middle ways is of little help navigating the pressures of practical issues in the church, and the odd result appears to be increased polarization over a variety of issues.

All shades of Anglican churchmanship can be found subscribing to the view that the Anglican faith is both catholic and reformed at the same time hospitable to intellectual inquiry. But the conclusions that they draw from this commitment are rather different. To some this threefold appeal will mean ordaining women; to others, not on any account doing so. To some it will follow that there is no logical obstacle to intercommunion with, say, Lutherans; to others, no such conclusion follows. To some it will entail adopting a tolerant attitude to doctrinal radicals within the Church; to others, this would be betrayal. This paradoxical situation might well lead us to ask whether the distinctiveness of Anglicanism lies not in the ingredients—which are not unique to Anglicanism—but in the nature of the mixture.(6)

The mixture itself, Paul Zahl argues, has the “deliberate fuzziness” of a form of liberal Catholicism that has the appearance and effect of a “wax nose.” The resulting “church of incarnation, synthesis, and Englishness strangely attaches the same degree of importance that our forbears,” whom Zahl argues were irrepressibly Protestant, “once attached to issues like atonement and justification, to issues of liturgical correctness, not to mention political issues from the world’s ever-changing store.”(7) “What is left of the identity of Anglicanism?” Zahl asks.

Is Paul Avis right to describe the present situation as a “nerveless failure to grapple with Christian truth systematically?”(*) Or is it really ‘pragmatism’ that defines the Anglican way? Or do we wish to punt back, with O. C. Edwards, to the Prayer Book?(**) That is a particularly shaky move now, as the Prayer Book has undergone frequent revision since achieving its definitive form, in England at least, in 1662. Moreover, revision of the Prayer Book has proliferated in many provinces of the Communion. It is now, without doubt, impossible to answer any given question concerning Anglicanism by answering it with the question that used to be able to settle almost everything: What does the Prayer Book say about this?!

__________________

(*)See his “What is ‘Anglicanism’?” p. 422.
(**)O. C. Edwards quotes Roger Lord approvingly in his essay “Anglican Pastoral Tradition,” in The Study of Anglicanism, p.342: “It is in the Prayer Book that we find the heart of Anglicanism laid bare.” (8)

Lex orandi lex credendi, or praying shapes believing, may well be another characteristic of the elusive Anglican ethos, as Leonel Mitchell also recognizes. Yet if the alterations in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer were for American Episcopalians, as he posits, “a readjustment of the language of our relationship with God” which therefore “affected that relationship itself,” then appeals to the prayer book become even more tenuous for those who recognize and are wary of the changes.(9) Prayer book alterations are indeed the focus of many suspicions by those, like members and leaders in the Anglican Mission, who recognize and value the formative impact of worship and who are aware that changes in the structure and content of the liturgy will affect the spiritual experience of the community with potentially disastrous results. Those critical of the Episcopal Church have, in my experience, often cited changes to the Book of Common Prayer as both cause and evidence of the demise of truth and spiritual health in the American expression of Anglicanism and are quick to restore the form and content of older editions as the basis for worship and doctrine.

The need appears to be for a new standard for orthodoxy and orthopraxis in Anglicanism, one that delivers Anglican spirituality from this quagmire of doctrinal fuzziness. We need a vision that offers a basis for identity and mission through which new efforts, local, regional, and global, can find justification and theological foundation as being consistent with that which is both uniquely Anglican and yet firmly at the center of all that Christ is doing through his Church worldwide.

The question remains as to where to turn to find such a standard. For many, the answer lies in the past, in a possibly romanticized era or personality from Anglican history.

Some who would agree would point to the 17th century as the golden age of Anglicanism, and utilize, often uncritically I am afraid, its liturgical and pastoral resources, for a new standard in Anglicanism. Others would rightly critique the Arminian and even Pelagian strains in that period, and perhaps head in a different direction to secure a contemporary Reformed understanding of Cranmer as the real Anglican standard.(10)

And yet as valuable as the fullness of our past is and will be to the establishment of a new Anglican ethos, I agree with Dr. Murphy that, “neither of those approaches is appropriate.” Any appeal to a ‘Golden Age of Anglicanism,’ the substance of which is likely to have relevance to the issues facing the contemporary church to varying degrees, is more than likely to fall to one side or another of the arguments that persist already in the Anglican Communion that have resulted in the struggle in which we find ourselves.(11)

Not that it is impossible to define a new Anglican ethos or speak in terms of orthodoxy within the Anglican Communion, but the fluidity of the current Anglican landscape means any such endeavor must be aware of the limitations of relying on any particular expression of our Anglican past or being satisfied with vague notions the preservation of a diverse, even divided, ‘Communion’. The chaotic nature of contemporary Anglicanism creates the urgency to equip local communities with the means to choose and grow into forms of worship, spirituality, and mission that remain true to our heritage and to Christ and his gospel, even as we respond to threats to each from within. The chaos also points to the inadequacy of our own resources, Reformed or Tractarian, Protestant or Catholic, to bring resolution. In one sense, the open question about how to identify an Anglican orthodoxy releases us to look to sources outside ourselves, including ecumenical dialog with Orthodox, Catholic, and other Protestant communities, and encourages us to retrace assumed influences in our deeper past, many of which are shared with these other traditions, such as the liturgical catechesis of the catechumenal and mystagogical methods of the early church.

I think the Anglican approach to the erosion of orthodoxy and orthopraxy in our own midst is precisely not to rely on our own resources. Thus, believing Anglicanism to be simply the Church in the British Isles and thus carried to various parts of the world, I would seek to restore Anglicanism on the basis of Scripture, the Fathers, and the best theology of the Church, understanding that the Church of the British Isles is a Reformed Church and so not discounting or shortshrifting the Reformation but not isolating ourselves in the sixteenth century. In this way, I critique contemporary Episcopalianism as gnosticism with particular reference to the Fathers, and I would utilize all the sources you are [using] for an appropriate sacramental formation. At the same time, I would do so with an English Reformation understanding of the gospel, Scripture, justification, and the Church, embracing the 39 Articles, but recognizing that they fail to speak to our day by understandable omission and perhaps, emphasis.(12)

The crisis of identity and authority in the Anglican Communion has had a negative impact on the spiritual integrity of many who remain in its more liberal and socially progressive expressions, such as the American Episcopal church. It has led to painful rendings of local communities and the heart-wrenching exit of many from churches of which they’ve been a part for generations. The resulting emergence of a conservative, evangelical presence in Anglicanism has led inescapably to an encounter with the culturally astute and conditioned movements within American evangelicalism in general. It has also introduced occasions for the indiscriminate adoption of tendencies toward inward and self-affirming spirituality. Both create the necessity and opportunity to rediscover the best in Anglican spirituality and Christian orthodoxy in general, asking honest and challenging questions about Christian identity, experience, worship, and formation. Dr. Murphy’s caution, “that the move to appropriate teaching of the rest of the Church is a particularly Anglican trait, which if it results in, say, conversion to Orthodoxy, Rome, or evangelicalism, misses the point altogether” is well-advised. The goal is not to redefine Anglicanism to be something else entirely, but to have it join the entire Christian community in asking of its Lord and itself what it should be in this age, even as it retains and contributes the best of what Anglicanism has to offer.

I think one might restore valid Anglican spirituality in America through the benefit of teaching and instruction from other parts of the Church, historical and contemporary. If you follow me in all this, I think you should be able to substitute ‘Church’ for ‘Anglican’ and have it mean the same. In my estimation, that’s Anglicanism.(13)

What he describes is a daunting task and in its fullness is well beyond the scope of this project. And yet even as the Anglican Communion continues to struggle on this side of that vision and faces the long, arduous task of rediscovering and reforming itself, hopefully along the lines Dr. Murphy suggests, our new community can participate humbly in the process. To the struggle over present issues, liturgical, doctrinal, and moral, we can add open and honest dialog with our brothers and sisters in other traditions and an exploration of our common past and common challenges as we take our place as Anglicans in Christ’s body and mission.
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  1. Anglican Mission in the Americas, “What We Believe,” ( http://www.theamia.org/amia/index.cfm?ID=D44302E0-E9DA-475B-B5ECCE6E69F8CF21, 9 September 2006).
  2. Murphy, “Re: Anglican Studies,” email.
  3. Stephen Sykes, John Booty, and Jonathan Knight, The Study of Anglicanism, revised ed. (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Fortress Press, 1998), 464-465.
  4. Ibid., 465.
  5. Paul F. M. Zahl, The Protestant Face of Anglicanism (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998), 40.
  6. Sykes, Booty, and Knight, The Study of Anglicanism, 468.
  7. Zahl, The Protestant Face of Anglicanism, 40.
  8. Ibid., 39-40.
  9. Leonel L. Mitchel, Praying Shapes Believing: A Theological Commentary on the Book of Common Prayer (Harrisburg, Penn.: Morehouse Publishing, 1985), 1.
  10. Murphy, “Re: Anglican Studies,” email.
  11. Ibid.
  12. Ibid.
  13. Ibid.