What are the practices of knowledge that cultivate the necessary trust under which it flourishes? Firstly, listening to the Word of God is an essential practice – not because the Bible is an epistemological text book, but because (as we have seen) it tells us with remarkable explanatory power about ourselves as knowers and the world we seek to know. It is because that Word of God is a divine declaration of the significance and meaningfulness of all we know. The scriptural gospel both encourages us in our human capacity and rebukes our pride. Along its spine is the story of the divine creator whose unshakable commitment is to the world that he has made and the men and women who inhabit it. Though human beings may know truly and even know truth without knowing Christ, they cannot know without him. Knowledge flourishes best within earshot of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Second, curiosity about God’s world is an appropriate expression of the creation mandate. That humankind has an almost insatiable thirst for knowledge about the world in which they live and of which they are a part is part of the way we were designed to interact with the creation that we might serve it. The contemporary epidemic of boredom – and particularly, of boredom with the real (as opposed to virtual) world – is deeply dehumanizing. Christian educators must surely seek to give nurture to the curiosity of students about the created order. An environment in which the activity of knowing is celebrated and enjoyed is essential to the flourishing of human beings as knowing animals.
Third, the cultivation of the virtue of epistemological humility is indispensible to true knowledge of the world. The scientific method itself, properly understood, recognizes the limitations and provisionality of human knowledge – without thereby despairing about the possibility of knowledge. The proper basis for the growth of human knowledge is the admission of incompleteness and even error. This is one of those truths that we can learn from observation; but it finds its confirmation and explanation in the gospel word which judges human beings. Schools must teach their students to say ‘I don’t know’ and ‘I was wrong’. Without these phrases, there is less chance to say ‘I know’.
Fourth, as knowing is a collective practice, a critical respect for tradition and for knowledge from and of other cultures enhances the ability of human beings to know. The current shape of most curricula recognizes this. However, it is not only essential to recognize that history is an important subject in and of itself, but that each subject area has its own history of inquiry, error, revision and understanding. Tradition is not prescriptive. It requires a practice of receiving it respectfully but critically. Anglican Christians in particular are well placed, as heirs of the sixteenth century reformation, to accord to the traditions of human knowledge the kind of critical respect that enables its development. Learning to see from the perspective of other cultures is also a marvelous aid towards the development of a proper regard for one’s own subjectivity.
Fifth, enabling communities of trust – trust in the coherence and meaningfulness of the world, in the potential for meaningfulness of human words, and so on – is the basis for the transformation of domestic and public life. By contrast, the erosion of trust in the political and economic sphere is deeply destructive of community. As we have seen, there is an urgent need for the schooling future citizens in the responsibilities that come with the possession of knowledge and the virtues that are needed for maintaining it.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
KNOWLEDGE IN CHRIST (OLIVER O’DONOVAN)
The work of Anglican evangelical moral theologian Oliver O’Donovan in his landmark book Resurrection and Moral Order provides a constructive account of the nature of knowledge in Christ. While his purpose is to provide a description of how specifically moral knowledge can be accessed, his schema certainly invites application across a broader field. O’Donovan addresses the question, as we have here, of how it is that we can say truthfully that we know things about the order of created universe when we ourselves belong to it and cannot find a vantage point to consider it from above (as God does)? What kind of knowledge does the gospel invite us to seek and entitle us to say that we have, and to try to impart to those we educate? O’Donovan sketches four features:
a. OF THINGS AS PART OF THE WHOLE
In the first place, this knowledge in Christ is knowledge of things ‘in their relations to the totality of things’. That does not mean that it is given to human beings to know everything, or even of everything. But we do know what we know as part of a coherent whole. The universe has a purpose and an order, the broad outline of which is discernible in the evangel. If the restoration and fulfillment of the created order is announced to us in the gospel of Jesus Christ, then it is possible to see that the world which we inhabit is a totality. The things and events we encounter in the world, though they may not in themselves look significant, gain significance from their connectedness to other things and events. These together make up a unified totality of objects and occurrences.
Seeking to grasp the shape of this totality has been until relatively recently one of the primary tasks of human knowers. It was this idea that stood behind the founding of the modern universities, even as late as the 19th century. Science and religion were not held apart but were invited to enrich one another mutually – for knowledge could not be total without both perspectives. We moderns benefit in every way from their partnership. The fragmentation and specialization of knowledge which we have latterly experienced is evidence of a despair that things could ever been known completely and in all their relations.
b. FROM WITHIN
At the same time this knowledge is known by knowers who are themselves a part of what they know. Though it is the empirical scientist’s ideal, we never can know at a distance. We are only artificially able to isolate the objects of our inquiry. We cannot transcend the things we seek to know. The historian is herself an historical being; the biologist part of a biological system. Especially, we see this as the natural sciences examine the largest questions of all – as to our origins and as to the boundaries and the essential properties of the universe: at these limit-points scientists inevitably wax philosophical. As O’Donovan points out ‘We expect scientific knowledge to ‘comprehend’ or ‘contain’ its object, whereas in this knowledge the object contains us.’ (p. 79) This reminds us that, though we may have knowledge of the totality, it is never total or complete knowledge.
c. FROM A HUMAN POSITION
It is also the fact that whatever knowledge we have is knowledge from a human position. This is a refinement of the notion of the ‘from within-ness’ of our knowledge. Humans know as other creatures do not. We name the creatures; they do not name us – they do not know us as we know them. To human creatures is given the task of recognizing the true nature of the things around them. In their calling to dominion over the creatures of the earth, sky and sea, men and women are equipped with the capacity to know and the authority that comes from such knowledge. The business of knowing things is task in which humankind is expected to be faithful and to use in the service of the creator.
We do indeed need to recall that in this as in other God-given tasks man and woman have been miserably deficient to the detriment of the creation itself. As in other things, knowledge is checked by the fallen-ness of would-be knowers. Human beings are not now some other creature because of the fall. But they are not the beings that they were supposed to be. We know truly, but also falsely, in error and in lapse of judgement. We are by turns enlightened and confused. The cancer of ignorance weakens the bones of our knowledge. We construct false totalities and invest ordinary material objects with divine properties.
d. NOT OF THE END OF ALL THINGS
So then, we must reckon with what we do not know. What we successfully apprehend of the created order does not include its end. We do not see far beyond the horizon – the destination of all things lies hidden in the sovereign power of God. There is no philosophy of history aside from that which is revealed to us in the Scriptures.
a. OF THINGS AS PART OF THE WHOLE
In the first place, this knowledge in Christ is knowledge of things ‘in their relations to the totality of things’. That does not mean that it is given to human beings to know everything, or even of everything. But we do know what we know as part of a coherent whole. The universe has a purpose and an order, the broad outline of which is discernible in the evangel. If the restoration and fulfillment of the created order is announced to us in the gospel of Jesus Christ, then it is possible to see that the world which we inhabit is a totality. The things and events we encounter in the world, though they may not in themselves look significant, gain significance from their connectedness to other things and events. These together make up a unified totality of objects and occurrences.
Seeking to grasp the shape of this totality has been until relatively recently one of the primary tasks of human knowers. It was this idea that stood behind the founding of the modern universities, even as late as the 19th century. Science and religion were not held apart but were invited to enrich one another mutually – for knowledge could not be total without both perspectives. We moderns benefit in every way from their partnership. The fragmentation and specialization of knowledge which we have latterly experienced is evidence of a despair that things could ever been known completely and in all their relations.
b. FROM WITHIN
At the same time this knowledge is known by knowers who are themselves a part of what they know. Though it is the empirical scientist’s ideal, we never can know at a distance. We are only artificially able to isolate the objects of our inquiry. We cannot transcend the things we seek to know. The historian is herself an historical being; the biologist part of a biological system. Especially, we see this as the natural sciences examine the largest questions of all – as to our origins and as to the boundaries and the essential properties of the universe: at these limit-points scientists inevitably wax philosophical. As O’Donovan points out ‘We expect scientific knowledge to ‘comprehend’ or ‘contain’ its object, whereas in this knowledge the object contains us.’ (p. 79) This reminds us that, though we may have knowledge of the totality, it is never total or complete knowledge.
c. FROM A HUMAN POSITION
It is also the fact that whatever knowledge we have is knowledge from a human position. This is a refinement of the notion of the ‘from within-ness’ of our knowledge. Humans know as other creatures do not. We name the creatures; they do not name us – they do not know us as we know them. To human creatures is given the task of recognizing the true nature of the things around them. In their calling to dominion over the creatures of the earth, sky and sea, men and women are equipped with the capacity to know and the authority that comes from such knowledge. The business of knowing things is task in which humankind is expected to be faithful and to use in the service of the creator.
We do indeed need to recall that in this as in other God-given tasks man and woman have been miserably deficient to the detriment of the creation itself. As in other things, knowledge is checked by the fallen-ness of would-be knowers. Human beings are not now some other creature because of the fall. But they are not the beings that they were supposed to be. We know truly, but also falsely, in error and in lapse of judgement. We are by turns enlightened and confused. The cancer of ignorance weakens the bones of our knowledge. We construct false totalities and invest ordinary material objects with divine properties.
d. NOT OF THE END OF ALL THINGS
So then, we must reckon with what we do not know. What we successfully apprehend of the created order does not include its end. We do not see far beyond the horizon – the destination of all things lies hidden in the sovereign power of God. There is no philosophy of history aside from that which is revealed to us in the Scriptures.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Nine aberrant forms of Christian leadership
In preparation for my talks at the SUEU Leadership conference I have been thinking about when Christian leadership goes wrong. That's pretty much all the time, given human limitations and sinfulness, I guess. But I guess we can't help thinking it could all be so much better. In this list I haven't included the nakedly corrupt, abusive and immoral - in one sense, they don't need describing. However those forms of leadership will flourish where Christians forget that Christian leaders are certainly to be held accountable and are as frail and temptable as anyone else. I should say upfront that I certainly recognise aspects of some of these in my own ministry.
1. The Narcissist The easiest way to spot a narcissist is when they are confronted by criticism. The narcissist usually goes a long to shield themselves from any criticism, and will usually employ or work with those who don't dare to contradict them. But when criticism does come through, the narcissist deflects it by saying that the person who gives it is either bad, or mad. The criticism itself may be described as persecution, and evidence that the true gospel is being preached.
Theological solution The narcissist has an insufficient doctrine of sin in the life of the believer and, in practical terms at least, is too positive about the progress of their own sanctification. A mature leader develops a healthy attitude to criticism which enables one to discern which criticism is valid and which is unwarranted.
2. The Control Freak The control freak will always want to live in a world in which they are able to be omniscient and omnipotent - hence, control freaks find it hard to grow churches beyond a certain size. They can't trust anyone. They tend to be inflexible about rules, and closed to ideas that they didn't think of. They find it hard to descriminate between issues that really matter, and issues that don't. They want to know what their congregation is doing.
Theological solution The control freak needs to really know and practice in real life the Sovereignty of God. Strangely, leaders who are controlling will very often preach this doctrine as a means to bolster their own sovereignty... which shows that they haven't understood it at all. It's a stressful existence.
3. The Wimp The weak and indecisive leader is often imprisoned by the awareness of their own weakness and so becomes the opposite: authoritarian. An authoritarian leader is very often a weak leader trying to overcompensate. He or she is so befuddled by advice that he/she just has to ignore it, or chose one advisor and make them infallible. Sometimes they theologise their weakness as Christlikeness...., or make it seem spiritual.
Theological solution The weak leader can take great heart from the number of biblical weak and fearful leaders there are and that God has used! Moses, or Gideon, for example. But the weak leader needs a doctrine of the Holy Spirit - to know and realise that they are empowered and authorised by the power and authority of God himself. And they need to develop a courage based on the resurrection of Jesus from the dead in the power of the Spirit, a Spirit which gives us grounds for confidence.
4. The 'I don't do windows' leader This leader has isolated their leadership role to one particular gift and doesn't stray much from it. Usually this means the preparation and delivery of sermons. On the one hand, this can come from a belief in the giftedness of the body of Christ in all its diversity. But this belief is take out of all proportion: the church and the world have needs that need serving. They have bought the contemporary notion of giftedness as a kind of internal and ontological property belonging to each believer - and not the equipping of God's people by the Holy Spirit to do what needs doing for the sake of his people.
Theological solution See above - a proper understanding of the nature of those gifts for the edification of the church is needed.
5. The Macho This leader has a reading of complementarianism that anchors it in a particular reading of maleness and femaleness, and is unaware how culturally bound it is. Leadership is male; therefore, maleness must be emphasised. You hear them using lots of military metaphors and talking about extreme sports as an analogy for the Christian life. Jesus is spoken of as the epitome of this kind of masculinity.
Theological solution A proper Christology - which means a proper reading of the gospels - will see that the picture of Jesus' masculinity is far less like a kind of 1st century Rambo than the Macho thinks.... he got beat up and killed, after all!
6. The Member of the Guild The aim of this Christian leader is to match it with his or her peers from college (or wherever). Their frustration (or smug satisfaction) with their church is because if it won't perform as expected, then they will look dumb at their next reunion. They minister and pastor, but as a means to an end. Their ministry is all technique and no heart. They ensure that they are seen as a 'player' in denominational politics.
Theological solution Whose church is it after all?
7. The Self-legislator The self-legislator is a child of the revolution. Rules and institutions get in the way of the gospel, as far as they see it. They are happy to take the denominational badge, but show contempt for denominational distinctives and denominational officials. 'It is easier to ask forgiveness than permission' is their mantra.
Theological solution Again, the doctrine of sin in the Christian life reminds us that making oneself accountable to others is imperative. There is an overconfidence in one's own ability to determine Scriptural truth without reference to others - thus a misunderstanding of the clarity of Scripture as it was developed in the Reformation. There is also a failure to see the work of the Holy Spirit as active in the life of the church over the course of history.
8. The Change-averter The change-averter is deeply conservative and will put the brakes on any change whatsoever as a point of principle. They can't quite explain why change is bad or why the status quo is better, but they are able to kybosh almost any new thought by throwing dust in the air. For them, seniority alone is the best qualification for leadership in the church.
Theological solution Once again, a proper view of sin ought to help us have a critical reception of traditions. Some are good and worthy; others are the result of human imperfections and limitations. Discernment is needed in these matters.
9. The Pragmatist Whatever works is the bottom line here. The pragmatist hasn't bought a theological book since leaving college and his or her shelves are covered with secular leadership books. Or, if they are a lay person you will most likely hear them complaining about the lack of application in the sermons.
Theological solution Pragmatism is not bad, but the church is not a company and the ministers are not the CEO. The gospel is not a programme or advertising slogan.
1. The Narcissist The easiest way to spot a narcissist is when they are confronted by criticism. The narcissist usually goes a long to shield themselves from any criticism, and will usually employ or work with those who don't dare to contradict them. But when criticism does come through, the narcissist deflects it by saying that the person who gives it is either bad, or mad. The criticism itself may be described as persecution, and evidence that the true gospel is being preached.
Theological solution The narcissist has an insufficient doctrine of sin in the life of the believer and, in practical terms at least, is too positive about the progress of their own sanctification. A mature leader develops a healthy attitude to criticism which enables one to discern which criticism is valid and which is unwarranted.
2. The Control Freak The control freak will always want to live in a world in which they are able to be omniscient and omnipotent - hence, control freaks find it hard to grow churches beyond a certain size. They can't trust anyone. They tend to be inflexible about rules, and closed to ideas that they didn't think of. They find it hard to descriminate between issues that really matter, and issues that don't. They want to know what their congregation is doing.
Theological solution The control freak needs to really know and practice in real life the Sovereignty of God. Strangely, leaders who are controlling will very often preach this doctrine as a means to bolster their own sovereignty... which shows that they haven't understood it at all. It's a stressful existence.
3. The Wimp The weak and indecisive leader is often imprisoned by the awareness of their own weakness and so becomes the opposite: authoritarian. An authoritarian leader is very often a weak leader trying to overcompensate. He or she is so befuddled by advice that he/she just has to ignore it, or chose one advisor and make them infallible. Sometimes they theologise their weakness as Christlikeness...., or make it seem spiritual.
Theological solution The weak leader can take great heart from the number of biblical weak and fearful leaders there are and that God has used! Moses, or Gideon, for example. But the weak leader needs a doctrine of the Holy Spirit - to know and realise that they are empowered and authorised by the power and authority of God himself. And they need to develop a courage based on the resurrection of Jesus from the dead in the power of the Spirit, a Spirit which gives us grounds for confidence.
4. The 'I don't do windows' leader This leader has isolated their leadership role to one particular gift and doesn't stray much from it. Usually this means the preparation and delivery of sermons. On the one hand, this can come from a belief in the giftedness of the body of Christ in all its diversity. But this belief is take out of all proportion: the church and the world have needs that need serving. They have bought the contemporary notion of giftedness as a kind of internal and ontological property belonging to each believer - and not the equipping of God's people by the Holy Spirit to do what needs doing for the sake of his people.
Theological solution See above - a proper understanding of the nature of those gifts for the edification of the church is needed.
5. The Macho This leader has a reading of complementarianism that anchors it in a particular reading of maleness and femaleness, and is unaware how culturally bound it is. Leadership is male; therefore, maleness must be emphasised. You hear them using lots of military metaphors and talking about extreme sports as an analogy for the Christian life. Jesus is spoken of as the epitome of this kind of masculinity.
Theological solution A proper Christology - which means a proper reading of the gospels - will see that the picture of Jesus' masculinity is far less like a kind of 1st century Rambo than the Macho thinks.... he got beat up and killed, after all!
6. The Member of the Guild The aim of this Christian leader is to match it with his or her peers from college (or wherever). Their frustration (or smug satisfaction) with their church is because if it won't perform as expected, then they will look dumb at their next reunion. They minister and pastor, but as a means to an end. Their ministry is all technique and no heart. They ensure that they are seen as a 'player' in denominational politics.
Theological solution Whose church is it after all?
7. The Self-legislator The self-legislator is a child of the revolution. Rules and institutions get in the way of the gospel, as far as they see it. They are happy to take the denominational badge, but show contempt for denominational distinctives and denominational officials. 'It is easier to ask forgiveness than permission' is their mantra.
Theological solution Again, the doctrine of sin in the Christian life reminds us that making oneself accountable to others is imperative. There is an overconfidence in one's own ability to determine Scriptural truth without reference to others - thus a misunderstanding of the clarity of Scripture as it was developed in the Reformation. There is also a failure to see the work of the Holy Spirit as active in the life of the church over the course of history.
8. The Change-averter The change-averter is deeply conservative and will put the brakes on any change whatsoever as a point of principle. They can't quite explain why change is bad or why the status quo is better, but they are able to kybosh almost any new thought by throwing dust in the air. For them, seniority alone is the best qualification for leadership in the church.
Theological solution Once again, a proper view of sin ought to help us have a critical reception of traditions. Some are good and worthy; others are the result of human imperfections and limitations. Discernment is needed in these matters.
9. The Pragmatist Whatever works is the bottom line here. The pragmatist hasn't bought a theological book since leaving college and his or her shelves are covered with secular leadership books. Or, if they are a lay person you will most likely hear them complaining about the lack of application in the sermons.
Theological solution Pragmatism is not bad, but the church is not a company and the ministers are not the CEO. The gospel is not a programme or advertising slogan.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Holding back on lay administration
Sydney Anglicans have with great patience and restraint argued their case for lay administration over many years. They have marvelled at the way in which this has been equated with the open endorsement of a form of immorality against which Scripture directly speaks in other Anglican churches. They have been astonished at the passionate response to this attempt to change church order, when significant challenges to orthodox doctrine and ethics - and indeed, church order - go unremarked. They have been surprised at the innovations contemplated in the name of equality and mission, but resisted on this particular matter. If lay administration is a second order issue, as even Nicholas Taylor will admit, then why has it elicited so much hostility?
Despite all of this, I would like to argue that Sydney ought not go ahead with lay administration in the foreseeable future. I don’t think that there are any theological objections insofar as I would (and have) happily receive the Lord’s Supper in a Baptist church from a lay person and consider that the sacrament was in no way deficient – in fact, I would find it offensive were any Anglican to suggest it was in some way incomplete celebration. However, I do think it is not wise or necessary to proceed with this innovation at this time. I have six reasons.
First, despite what some of its proponents claim, it is not in fact a ‘gospel issue’. Calling it a gospel issue posits an either-or that is simply not accurate. It confuses gospel issues with church order issues. The reason for calling it a gospel issue is that reserving the act of administration at the Supper for the ordained priest/presbyter allegedly communicates a view of the sacrament which sets it apart from the Word and makes it a special means of grace in addition to the gospel in some way – along the lines of a Roman Catholic theology of the sacraments. However, there is no sense in which a Communion service run in the evangelical parishes of the diocese of Sydney could ever be confused in that way. The usual practice communicates anything but a sacerdotal view of the Supper - and there is no evidence that anyone thinks that it does. The ministers do not normally robe or even wear collars these days. The locally authorised liturgies specifically rule out a sacerdotal interpretation of the Communion. Who administers at the Supper becomes then a matter of church order rather than of the gospel itself.
Second, Sydney diocese has an enormous opportunity for a leadership of service within the Anglican Communion in the first decades of the twenty-first century – in countries where it is often difficult to be a Christian such as Egypt, Madagascar and Myanmar. Anglicans in these countries may class themselves as ‘evangelicals’ but may often just understand themselves to be ‘Anglican’ without reference to a party. They are conservative in theological outlook and looking for help in mission. They are reluctant to accept it from the liberal wing of the church, especially from the Episcopal Church of the USA which they feel has become morally compromised since consecrating two actively homosexual bishops. They are concerned that the same spirit of private judgement and self-legislation without wider consultation is at play in Sydney. Perhaps in Sydney we may quibble with their judgement on this matter. And yet cooperation with these churches is an opportunity for proclaiming Jesus. Can we not bear with the brethren on this matter for the sake of the good it might bring? Is it really of such importance in our own context that we cannot hold back? Is it really affecting our mission here in Sydney?
Third, evangelicals in other parts of the Anglican Communion aren’t calling for it with any enthusiasm. At present, many evangelicals look to Sydney for support and to see what might be achieved by evangelicals within an Anglican framework. That relationship would certainly be compromised by pushing ahead with lay administration. Sydney-trained clergy in other parts of the world would be given fewer opportunities and viewed with greater suspicion as a result of this change. In fact, Sydney-trained clergy serving outside Sydney have often called on Sydney to exercise restraint in this matter.
Fourth, simply as a matter of tactics lay administration is ill-advised. Currently, the North American liberals are tearing the Anglican Communion apart with their innovations. They have acted precipitously and selfishly. They have severely compromised the integrity of the Anglican Communion. The Sydney diocese does not share, as a matter ecclesiological conviction, the view of the unity of the Communion that others do. However, moving forward with lay presidency offers a chance for people to compare the two kinds of innovation and to view them as equivalent. A Communion wanting to appear even-handed may expel Sydney just as it expels ECUSA. Far better to allow the crisis over homosexual bishops to play itself out in the Communion and see what new state of play eventuates then to give those whose hatred of Sydney is implacable a cause to move against it.
Fifth, it is simply the case that no practical necessity drives lay administration in Sydney. There are plenty of candidates for ministry, and plenty of serving presbyters – certainly compared to other dioceses. The current practice is for a monthly communion or perhaps less. Almost every practical concern could be overcome. The current policy of only ordaining as presbyters those who are rectors is perhaps an obstacle, in that congregational leaders may frequently not be presbyters. I would be in favour of returning to the old system. Nevertheless, diaconal administration - which is currently in place – has made this need less urgent.
Sixthly, even though in my judgement no real case of any substance has been put against lay administration, the arguments have singularly failed to convince the wider Anglican Communion even slightly, let alone others in the Australian church. Many of those not convinced would count themselves as dear friends of the Sydney diocese. Whatever one’s opinion of the matter, this is precisely the opposite of the case with women’s ordination, where a clear majority of the Australian church were in favour. It may seem that almost four decades is a long time to be considering a change such as this. But more work is needed from the Sydney point of view to convince others of the pressing need – if pressing it is – for this change. It is telling that no significant monograph from a Sydney theologian has appeared in support of lay administration. Could Sydney really push ahead with the change without majority approval at a national level?
This may seem like a surprising conclusion. However it is arguably more consistent with the Christian gospel, which enjoins us not to insist on our own rights but to consider the needs of others. For a chance of sharing with the Anglicans of Myanmar or Egypt or Chile in their call to preach the gospel, I would readily lay down my insistence on a particular change of church order on which nothing of consequence hangs (if we are to be honest about it). Though no substantial arguments have appeared to counter lay administration at a theological level, here is an opportunity to show patient endurance for the sake of others. Are we mature enough as an institution to take that opportunity?
Despite all of this, I would like to argue that Sydney ought not go ahead with lay administration in the foreseeable future. I don’t think that there are any theological objections insofar as I would (and have) happily receive the Lord’s Supper in a Baptist church from a lay person and consider that the sacrament was in no way deficient – in fact, I would find it offensive were any Anglican to suggest it was in some way incomplete celebration. However, I do think it is not wise or necessary to proceed with this innovation at this time. I have six reasons.
First, despite what some of its proponents claim, it is not in fact a ‘gospel issue’. Calling it a gospel issue posits an either-or that is simply not accurate. It confuses gospel issues with church order issues. The reason for calling it a gospel issue is that reserving the act of administration at the Supper for the ordained priest/presbyter allegedly communicates a view of the sacrament which sets it apart from the Word and makes it a special means of grace in addition to the gospel in some way – along the lines of a Roman Catholic theology of the sacraments. However, there is no sense in which a Communion service run in the evangelical parishes of the diocese of Sydney could ever be confused in that way. The usual practice communicates anything but a sacerdotal view of the Supper - and there is no evidence that anyone thinks that it does. The ministers do not normally robe or even wear collars these days. The locally authorised liturgies specifically rule out a sacerdotal interpretation of the Communion. Who administers at the Supper becomes then a matter of church order rather than of the gospel itself.
Second, Sydney diocese has an enormous opportunity for a leadership of service within the Anglican Communion in the first decades of the twenty-first century – in countries where it is often difficult to be a Christian such as Egypt, Madagascar and Myanmar. Anglicans in these countries may class themselves as ‘evangelicals’ but may often just understand themselves to be ‘Anglican’ without reference to a party. They are conservative in theological outlook and looking for help in mission. They are reluctant to accept it from the liberal wing of the church, especially from the Episcopal Church of the USA which they feel has become morally compromised since consecrating two actively homosexual bishops. They are concerned that the same spirit of private judgement and self-legislation without wider consultation is at play in Sydney. Perhaps in Sydney we may quibble with their judgement on this matter. And yet cooperation with these churches is an opportunity for proclaiming Jesus. Can we not bear with the brethren on this matter for the sake of the good it might bring? Is it really of such importance in our own context that we cannot hold back? Is it really affecting our mission here in Sydney?
Third, evangelicals in other parts of the Anglican Communion aren’t calling for it with any enthusiasm. At present, many evangelicals look to Sydney for support and to see what might be achieved by evangelicals within an Anglican framework. That relationship would certainly be compromised by pushing ahead with lay administration. Sydney-trained clergy in other parts of the world would be given fewer opportunities and viewed with greater suspicion as a result of this change. In fact, Sydney-trained clergy serving outside Sydney have often called on Sydney to exercise restraint in this matter.
Fourth, simply as a matter of tactics lay administration is ill-advised. Currently, the North American liberals are tearing the Anglican Communion apart with their innovations. They have acted precipitously and selfishly. They have severely compromised the integrity of the Anglican Communion. The Sydney diocese does not share, as a matter ecclesiological conviction, the view of the unity of the Communion that others do. However, moving forward with lay presidency offers a chance for people to compare the two kinds of innovation and to view them as equivalent. A Communion wanting to appear even-handed may expel Sydney just as it expels ECUSA. Far better to allow the crisis over homosexual bishops to play itself out in the Communion and see what new state of play eventuates then to give those whose hatred of Sydney is implacable a cause to move against it.
Fifth, it is simply the case that no practical necessity drives lay administration in Sydney. There are plenty of candidates for ministry, and plenty of serving presbyters – certainly compared to other dioceses. The current practice is for a monthly communion or perhaps less. Almost every practical concern could be overcome. The current policy of only ordaining as presbyters those who are rectors is perhaps an obstacle, in that congregational leaders may frequently not be presbyters. I would be in favour of returning to the old system. Nevertheless, diaconal administration - which is currently in place – has made this need less urgent.
Sixthly, even though in my judgement no real case of any substance has been put against lay administration, the arguments have singularly failed to convince the wider Anglican Communion even slightly, let alone others in the Australian church. Many of those not convinced would count themselves as dear friends of the Sydney diocese. Whatever one’s opinion of the matter, this is precisely the opposite of the case with women’s ordination, where a clear majority of the Australian church were in favour. It may seem that almost four decades is a long time to be considering a change such as this. But more work is needed from the Sydney point of view to convince others of the pressing need – if pressing it is – for this change. It is telling that no significant monograph from a Sydney theologian has appeared in support of lay administration. Could Sydney really push ahead with the change without majority approval at a national level?
This may seem like a surprising conclusion. However it is arguably more consistent with the Christian gospel, which enjoins us not to insist on our own rights but to consider the needs of others. For a chance of sharing with the Anglicans of Myanmar or Egypt or Chile in their call to preach the gospel, I would readily lay down my insistence on a particular change of church order on which nothing of consequence hangs (if we are to be honest about it). Though no substantial arguments have appeared to counter lay administration at a theological level, here is an opportunity to show patient endurance for the sake of others. Are we mature enough as an institution to take that opportunity?
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Ross Gittins on leadership in contemporary Oz
.....It's a dramatic demonstration of the way Australians are losing the ability to fall in behind a leader.
All of us know the nation's problems won't be overcome without decisive leadership. We regularly bewail our politicians' lack of courage and conviction, their reluctance to risk their personal survival in the country's best interests.
Yet we give our leaders so little loyalty. The announcement of a government decision is taken as the occasion for the outbreak of dissent. All those with a reason for objecting cry out and their criticism is amplified by the media, whereas those who agree fall silent. No one feels obliged to actively support the leader, even if just because she is our leader and someone has to accept ultimate responsibility for deciding what we'll do and how we'll do it.
Of course, no one wants to live in a country where the leader's will is never challenged. We each have the democratic right to oppose all government decisions by all legal means. But we also have the democratic right to support, defend or even just acquiesce in the judgment of the people we elected to lead us.
Ross Gittins
All of us know the nation's problems won't be overcome without decisive leadership. We regularly bewail our politicians' lack of courage and conviction, their reluctance to risk their personal survival in the country's best interests.
Yet we give our leaders so little loyalty. The announcement of a government decision is taken as the occasion for the outbreak of dissent. All those with a reason for objecting cry out and their criticism is amplified by the media, whereas those who agree fall silent. No one feels obliged to actively support the leader, even if just because she is our leader and someone has to accept ultimate responsibility for deciding what we'll do and how we'll do it.
Of course, no one wants to live in a country where the leader's will is never challenged. We each have the democratic right to oppose all government decisions by all legal means. But we also have the democratic right to support, defend or even just acquiesce in the judgment of the people we elected to lead us.
Ross Gittins
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
The Eternal Difficulty of Leadership
The Australian federal election campaign of 2010 was the perfect illustration of the contemporary problem of leadership. And it’s this: we want a leader we can trust, but we aren’t ready to trust anyone. Or to put it another way: we want a leader who is real, but we aren’t prepared to believe anything they say.
The most telling moment was when Julia Gillard, who had followed perfectly the formula for contemporary electioneering by repeating her ‘moving forward’ phrase over and over again like we were idiots, announced that she was throwing away the script and that we were now going to get the ‘real Julia Gillard’ – which chiefly meant speaking without notes and answering questions. Only, anyone could see that this was itself a strategy, a tactic driven by polls and market research, which was saying that we voters want authenticity in our leaders, and even if we are idiots don’t like to be told that we are. We could have no confidence that this was anymore the real Julia than the moving forward Julia. Even if it was the ‘real’ Julia, we had no way of believing that it was – there was the crafted and practiced ‘spontaneity’, but not the unguarded moment that tells us the truth about her real character.
This is not only a problem for Gillard. Modern politics is – and thus modern politicians are - all persona and no person. I think this is why we are fascinated by the private lives of those who lead us – because we want to see if their public pose is authentic, or whether it is just a trick in order to get us to follow them. If we could discover, by combing through their garbage, some piece of authentically human detritus – a leg razor with real hairs in it, a half-eaten burrito, a discarded condom wrapper, some left over antibiotics – we might begin to believe in them as real. What makes it really complex is that having discovered they are real, we might not want them to lead us anymore.
Such are the peculiarities of leadership in the 21st century. Like so many things in contemporary life, our attitude to leaders is paradoxical: on the one hand we are incredibly gullible when it comes to some forms of leadership and some leaders. On the other, we are deeply cynical towards those who lead us. We want to be lead, desperately; but the possibility of a human being fulfilling our expectations is unlikely.
We see this in the cult of celebrity. Fame conveys on people a kind of tacit authority. Bizarrely, expertise or success in one area we feel leads to expertise in another. It conveys a kind of transferrable authority – my ability to play cricket or to sing translates into an ability to choose which brand of cola to drink. That’s why advertisers love celebrity endorsements. It comes because good leadership is so attractive to human beings: we deep down want to believe that there are leaders out there who make a difference and who are worth trusting and are perhaps a cut above the ordinary. We really want there to be leaders who are able and who care for us and are not just drunk on fame or power. That is the attraction of the The West Wing: the fantasy that anyone as intelligent and good as Jed Bartlett could ever get elected.
We like the feeling a good leader gives us, because good leadership can take us further than we thought it was possible to go. As the American author David Foster Wallace said in 2000:
A real leader can somehow get us to do certain things that deep down we think are good and want to be able to do but usually can't get ourselves to do on our own ... A leader's true authority is the power you voluntarily give him, and you grant him this authority not in a resigned or resentful way but happily; it feels right. Deep down, you almost always like how a real leader makes you feel, how you find yourself working harder and pushing yourself and thinking in ways you wouldn't be able to if there weren't this person you respected and believed in and wanted to please.
Being led feels great. You can see the potential danger here: good leadership is so powerful it is almost intoxicating. But we so rarely find this. We want Bartlett, but if there ever was a Bartlett, we wouldn’t believe in him. We always fear that we have a Richard Nixon (the US President who resigned in disgrace over the Watergate scandal in 1974). We are suspicious and cynical about leaders and their spin, especially in the political world. We have been so often bitterly disappointed in leaders and in leadership. The sincerity of politicians is so carefully calculated and practiced that we just don’t believe it any more. Leaders have become such successful actors and manipulators that we just don’t know when we are getting real and when we are getting fake. That’s the Julia Gillard problem. And to be fair, it is hard to know how she (or anyone else) could ever overcome it.
It is a human problem, actually. Human leaders are only human. They are finite. They do not know everything. They cannot do everything. And they are, everyone of them, failures. They fail - sometimes terribly. Even their mundane failures are still failures. However, leadership - built as it is on power and authority – is a concept of such transcendence that it is almost divine. It is not accident that since ancient times leadership has been associated with the sacred – and that some leaders have even pretended to divinity itself. No human being is really worthy of the tasks and responsibilities of leadership.
The most telling moment was when Julia Gillard, who had followed perfectly the formula for contemporary electioneering by repeating her ‘moving forward’ phrase over and over again like we were idiots, announced that she was throwing away the script and that we were now going to get the ‘real Julia Gillard’ – which chiefly meant speaking without notes and answering questions. Only, anyone could see that this was itself a strategy, a tactic driven by polls and market research, which was saying that we voters want authenticity in our leaders, and even if we are idiots don’t like to be told that we are. We could have no confidence that this was anymore the real Julia than the moving forward Julia. Even if it was the ‘real’ Julia, we had no way of believing that it was – there was the crafted and practiced ‘spontaneity’, but not the unguarded moment that tells us the truth about her real character.
This is not only a problem for Gillard. Modern politics is – and thus modern politicians are - all persona and no person. I think this is why we are fascinated by the private lives of those who lead us – because we want to see if their public pose is authentic, or whether it is just a trick in order to get us to follow them. If we could discover, by combing through their garbage, some piece of authentically human detritus – a leg razor with real hairs in it, a half-eaten burrito, a discarded condom wrapper, some left over antibiotics – we might begin to believe in them as real. What makes it really complex is that having discovered they are real, we might not want them to lead us anymore.
Such are the peculiarities of leadership in the 21st century. Like so many things in contemporary life, our attitude to leaders is paradoxical: on the one hand we are incredibly gullible when it comes to some forms of leadership and some leaders. On the other, we are deeply cynical towards those who lead us. We want to be lead, desperately; but the possibility of a human being fulfilling our expectations is unlikely.
We see this in the cult of celebrity. Fame conveys on people a kind of tacit authority. Bizarrely, expertise or success in one area we feel leads to expertise in another. It conveys a kind of transferrable authority – my ability to play cricket or to sing translates into an ability to choose which brand of cola to drink. That’s why advertisers love celebrity endorsements. It comes because good leadership is so attractive to human beings: we deep down want to believe that there are leaders out there who make a difference and who are worth trusting and are perhaps a cut above the ordinary. We really want there to be leaders who are able and who care for us and are not just drunk on fame or power. That is the attraction of the The West Wing: the fantasy that anyone as intelligent and good as Jed Bartlett could ever get elected.
We like the feeling a good leader gives us, because good leadership can take us further than we thought it was possible to go. As the American author David Foster Wallace said in 2000:
A real leader can somehow get us to do certain things that deep down we think are good and want to be able to do but usually can't get ourselves to do on our own ... A leader's true authority is the power you voluntarily give him, and you grant him this authority not in a resigned or resentful way but happily; it feels right. Deep down, you almost always like how a real leader makes you feel, how you find yourself working harder and pushing yourself and thinking in ways you wouldn't be able to if there weren't this person you respected and believed in and wanted to please.
Being led feels great. You can see the potential danger here: good leadership is so powerful it is almost intoxicating. But we so rarely find this. We want Bartlett, but if there ever was a Bartlett, we wouldn’t believe in him. We always fear that we have a Richard Nixon (the US President who resigned in disgrace over the Watergate scandal in 1974). We are suspicious and cynical about leaders and their spin, especially in the political world. We have been so often bitterly disappointed in leaders and in leadership. The sincerity of politicians is so carefully calculated and practiced that we just don’t believe it any more. Leaders have become such successful actors and manipulators that we just don’t know when we are getting real and when we are getting fake. That’s the Julia Gillard problem. And to be fair, it is hard to know how she (or anyone else) could ever overcome it.
It is a human problem, actually. Human leaders are only human. They are finite. They do not know everything. They cannot do everything. And they are, everyone of them, failures. They fail - sometimes terribly. Even their mundane failures are still failures. However, leadership - built as it is on power and authority – is a concept of such transcendence that it is almost divine. It is not accident that since ancient times leadership has been associated with the sacred – and that some leaders have even pretended to divinity itself. No human being is really worthy of the tasks and responsibilities of leadership.
Is there something lost in the prevention and/or relief of suffering?
[being the second part of the piece begun in the previous post]
Evangelical Christians are certainly of the view that human suffering ought to be prevented and relieved wherever possible, and where the means of doing so are ethical. It is not accidental that evangelical Christians, along with Christians of other traditions, have frequently been advocates for the development of medicine and the care of the sick and suffering. As Professor Rodney Stark showed in his book The Rise of Christianity, the early Christians were notable for their determination to alleviate the suffering of the sick. The belief in an orderly universe governed by a good God has long been recognised as the stimulus to medicine, over against the view that the world is beholden to competing pagan deities or to capricious chance.
The gospels record many instances of Jesus’ work as a healer of disease and disability – and his compassion for the suffering of those so afflicted. The apostles likewise are depicted as restoring physical wholeness to several individuals. Christians are called upon to pray for the sick (James 5:14-15). Following these examples, it would be remarkable for a Christian to see the relief and prevention of suffering as undesirable.
The Bible warns human beings against all forms of utopianism. Though human ingenuity will lead to the amelioration of the human condition in many respects, suffering will emerge in new forms. Though it is the Christian view that suffering of one kind or another is inevitable, this does not mean that Christians are resigned to suffering such that they will do nothing to alleviate it.
It is possible, however, that Christians will feel the need to object to certain calculations about the alleviation of suffering if they are based on the assumption that suffering is unredeemable. The elimination of suffering is not always the highest good. Suffering may not always destroy human dignity; it may indeed enhance it – for example, when one is able to suffer in the place of or for the good of others. Believing in the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, Christians hold that suffering is not ultimate in human life.
Evangelical Christians are certainly of the view that human suffering ought to be prevented and relieved wherever possible, and where the means of doing so are ethical. It is not accidental that evangelical Christians, along with Christians of other traditions, have frequently been advocates for the development of medicine and the care of the sick and suffering. As Professor Rodney Stark showed in his book The Rise of Christianity, the early Christians were notable for their determination to alleviate the suffering of the sick. The belief in an orderly universe governed by a good God has long been recognised as the stimulus to medicine, over against the view that the world is beholden to competing pagan deities or to capricious chance.
The gospels record many instances of Jesus’ work as a healer of disease and disability – and his compassion for the suffering of those so afflicted. The apostles likewise are depicted as restoring physical wholeness to several individuals. Christians are called upon to pray for the sick (James 5:14-15). Following these examples, it would be remarkable for a Christian to see the relief and prevention of suffering as undesirable.
The Bible warns human beings against all forms of utopianism. Though human ingenuity will lead to the amelioration of the human condition in many respects, suffering will emerge in new forms. Though it is the Christian view that suffering of one kind or another is inevitable, this does not mean that Christians are resigned to suffering such that they will do nothing to alleviate it.
It is possible, however, that Christians will feel the need to object to certain calculations about the alleviation of suffering if they are based on the assumption that suffering is unredeemable. The elimination of suffering is not always the highest good. Suffering may not always destroy human dignity; it may indeed enhance it – for example, when one is able to suffer in the place of or for the good of others. Believing in the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, Christians hold that suffering is not ultimate in human life.
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