The Accidental Anglican

The Accidental Anglican Has Moved!

... to http://www.accidentalanglican.net.  All new material will be posted there starting October 30, 2006.

Ad Nauseum, Defined

The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit anyone?  Ecclesiastes 6:11

All the unhappiness of men arises from one single fact, that they cannot stay quietly in their own room.  Blaise Pascal

I have officially had it with the whole Anglican "revisionist/reasserter" war of words.

I know there are important issues at stake. I understand the future of the Episcopal Church, and by extension the Anglican Communion, hangs in the balance.  We are all fighting for the integrity of the Gospel as we understand (or misunderstand) it. I get all that.

But does everybody have to talk so freakin' much?

Back during General Convention, the blogs were a-poppin'. And with good reason.  A lot was happening, and various factions were ecstatic or despondent, depending on the resolution. There was lots of news. And I read, and read, and read, and read ...

And things are still happening. The ABC meets with Presiding Bishop-Elect Schori just before she takes office. Decisions about APO are being rescinded and/or debated. Pronouncements from various authorities and others are released daily, sometimes hourly.

But I suspect the still-high volume of information being circulated has less to do with actual news and more to do with a pervasive addiction to the whole Sturm und Drang of the fight, a need to keep everyone's excitement at a fever pitch. The result is a signal-to-noise ratio that is spiraling downward to the point of absurdity.

Case in point: One reasserter blog I have frequented for several months (starting with General Convention) posted a sermon written by one of its bloggers. Not so unusual, but the sermon topic had nothing (as far as I could tell) to do with the whole Anglican controversy. I pointed that out (yes, somewhat testily) in a comment, basically asking how this posting (other than being a clearly orthodox-type sermon) tied into the stated mission of the blog. Either they were drifting away from their "news and analysis" focus, I said, or I wasn't "getting" something.

Here's the response I got: It was a slow news day, so we posted some extraneous material. If you don't like it, then don't read it.

It's a reasonable response, to be sure. No one was holding a gun to my head, making me read every post. It's their space, and it's their choice to publish whatever they want.

But think about this for a second. This isn't a newspaper we're talking about here, where you have to make sure there's enough news copy surrounding the ads to fill up the pages. This is a blog, for crying out loud. Since when does a blog need filler?

In the Anglican blogosphere, "all the news that's fit to print" is quickly becoming "all the news we can possibly print, and then any other random thoughts we happen to think somebody might be interested in." As much as I (as a writer) dislike editors, I'm starting to see how useful they are. Somebody, after all, has to decide what goes above the fold, what gets relegated to the back page of the Metro section, and what gets tossed altogether. (A lot of these blogs could take a page from Get Religion's playbook about coming up with a firm editorial focus.)

I am just overwhelmed by all the talk. Enough already, people.

DIY Religion 101

It's interesting to read about people who have pretty much made up their own personal religion.  When they're interviewed, I often wonder if they've ever actually heard themselves say these things out loud before and noticed the logical disconnects in their own theology:

The sort of eclectic spirituality you're describing is appealing to many people. But do you ever think that by picking and choosing from different religious traditions there might be a temptation to choose -- for lack of a better term -- the "fun" things and avoid the difficult things, like moral codes?

It really depends upon the person and the situation. I take what resonates with me from each religion. It's not necessarily what's fun -- it's more a matter of what works. But you are right that some people might do that, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that. Anyway, I think moral codes are just religion's excuse to judge other people.

So in your view there is no right and wrong? It's all relative? Murder? Genocide? They might be OK?

You know what? If somebody kidnapped one of my kids and I had to kill that person in order to save my child, you bet your ass I'd do that.

I don't believe in right or wrong. It just is. If it feels like something that I should do, then I'll do it. Or if it feels like something that I shouldn't do, then I won't do it.

People who follow traditional religious paths often enjoy having a sense of certainty about their beliefs. And they have a community of like-minded people to worship with, authorities they can turn to for guidance, that sort of thing. Do you, as the creator of your own spirituality, have that sense of certainty?

Absolutely, because I am the one who is in control. As long as I am the one who is in control and I am responsible for everything that happens in my life, of course there is certainty.

But there are so many things you can't control that might affect you. There are senseless crimes, wars, global warming, to name a few. Doesn't that make you wonder about how much control you really have?

I don't see how any of that is affecting me personally. I go on with my life. If there is something I can do to prevent global warming, I'll do what I can. But my life goes on as normal.

What sources do you turn to when you need comfort, guidance or spiritual inspiration?

I meditate. That's all I need to do.

Okay, let me see if I have this straight:

1. She doesn't follow moral codes because they're just an excuse to judge people, and judging people is wrong.
2. She doesn't believe in right or wrong (except, of course, the whole "judging people" part, because that's wrong, period).
3. But if someone kidnapped her child, that would be wrong, too, so killing them to make it stop would be right.  Not that there's really any "right" or "wrong."  It's just ... well ... it's what she would feel was right.
4. All she's interested in is what happens to her directly.  After all, she's in control, and she has everything she needs inside herself.  She has no connection with the rest of humanity - her actions don't impact anyone else, and theirs don't impact her.  Except for the whole global warming thing.  And only if it occurs to her at the time.

So, is it judgmental to say that someone hasn't thought through things very well?

"The Church of Christ Without Christ"

I've been reading Flannery O'Connor's Wise Blood for several days now (about 2/3 through it today), and I keep chuckling at Hazel Motes's "Church of Christ Without Christ" (a.k.a. "Church Without Christ") that he keeps trying to start.

Well, I preach the Church Without Christ.  I'm member and preacher to that church where the blind don't see and the lame don't walk and what's dead stays that way. ... I'm going to preach it to whoever'll listen at whatever place. I'm going to preach there was no Fall because there was nothing to fall from and no Redemption because there was no Fall and no Judgment because there wasn't the first two."

Sounds a lot like Neibuhr's 1938 assessment of mainline liberal theology:

A God without wrath brought men without sin into a Kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross.

Hazel Motes, Deepak Chopra, and Katharine Jefferts-Schori apparently have a lot in common.

Everything I needed to know about surviving Anglican schism, I learned from "Earl"

I have a new guilty pleasure: "My Name is Earl"

When this show first hit the airwaves, I dismissed it.  Rednecks and karma.  Who'da thunk it?

But I'm a sucker for good social satire, and being a lifelong resident of the Deep South, I can tell you as an expert: whoever writes this show understands redneck culture.  I mean REALLY understands it.  (I'm this close to adopting "snap!" -- 'scuse me, "suh-na-up!" -- as my new catchprase.)

So now I'm busy catching up on re-runs.  But even with junk food TV, I still can't get away from Anglicanism and theology and all that stuff.

"Earl" plots are never easy to explain, so I won't attempt to unravel all of it here.  (How they ever come up with a synopsis of this show for TV Guide every week, I'll never understand.)  But this week's convoluted plot was all about lying for the sake of unity.

Joy can't admit to her parents that she and Earl have divorced, so she's attributed his absence to going off to fight in Iraq.  She can't tell them her new husband is black, so she's explained away her youngest child's multiracial appearance in an interesting, if scientifically questionable, way.  Meanwhile, Joy's mom has a gambling problem, so she's faking arthritis, paralysis, and kidney failure as a way to get betting money (she tells her husband the dialysis center gives a 10% discount for cash payments).  Joy's dad, meanwhile, has a few secrets of his own.

And as Earl finds out their secrets, one by one, they all echo Joy's mom's favorite refrain: "Don't you judge me!"

Trouble is, Earl's acquired a conscience.  He can't keep lying for all these people - it's  bad karma, as he puts it.  Before long, Earl blabs, and the argument that erupts in the wake of all these revelations lasts all night long Christmas Eve.  But by morning, there are no more secrets.  All that's left, Earl says, is for everyone to just enjoy each other's company on Christmas Day.

So what does Earl learn?

1) Everybody's got some dirt on 'em.
2) Everybody thinks their dirt is worse than everybody else's, and they fear being looked down on for it.
3) Once you own up to your dirt, though, people and relationships heal.  It might even prompt someone else to own up to his or her own dirt.  And who knows where it'll all end?

Earl as a theologian ... who'da thunk it?

Robert Gagnon on Scripture & Homosexuality

Probably one of the best-reasoned arguments for the reasserter view of Scripture on this subject I've ever seen.  Gagnon takes some of the more common arguments in favor of a new view of homosexuality ("God made me this way," the shellfish argument, etc.) and dismantles them, one by one.  A good read.

If you want the "short version" of GC'06

If you're as exhausted as I am by the General Convention '06 & Aftermath coverage, and you just want the "short version," here is a great site: http://philippians-1-20.us/gc2006.htm

Of Etymology and Theology

"When I became your Presiding Bishop I called us to conversation. I pointed out the word conversation and conversion come from the same root. By conversion I did not mean one point of view capitulating to another, rather in seeing Christ in one another. Not a change of mind but a change of heart."  Frank Griswold, Presiding Bishop, Episcopal Church, during the Joint Session 6/21/06

[Vizzini has just cut the rope The Dread Pirate Roberts is climbing up]
Vizzini: He didn't fall?  Inconceivable!
Inigo Montoya: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
The Princess Bride

The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit  anyone?
Ecclesiastes 6:11

Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No'; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.
Matthew 5:37

If there's any word we Anglicans have heard over and over again during the last three years, it's conversation.  Conversation is good, they tell us.  Let's continue the conversation, they plead.  We're going to stay in conversation, they promise.

Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold claims that "conversation" and "conversion" come from the same root, so that somehow makes "conversation," in the sense of continuing dialogue, a religious concept related to "conversion."  To ++Griswold's mind, conversation means a change of heart, much more desirable (holier?) than mere conversion.

But the basic premise he uses to support his position is flawed - as anyone who loves words (professionally and personally) as much as I do knows.  And if his premise is flawed, then so is his practice.

Conversation is a noun form of the verb converse, which in its verb form is derived from the Latin conversr.  That in turn became the Old French converser, which in turn became the Middle English conversen.  The words in their verb form all pointed to the concept of speaking to and associating with.

Conversion, in contrast, is a noun form of the verb convert, which comes from the Latin convertere.  That word became the Old French convertir, which in turn again became the Old English converten.  The meaning?  To turn around.  Sounds a lot more like the word repent than talk (or speak or associate with), doesn't it?

In fact, converse is only related to conversion as a noun (converse as a noun meaning "something that has been reversed.").  Then, and only then, do the words share a common Latin root.

Conversation, contrary to ++Griswold's interesting interpretation, has nothing to do with change.  It's about (endless?) exchange.  And that's really the point, isn't it?  Nothing will change.  The current trajectory will continue without a course correction

What's really infuriating to me is this: ++Griswold & Company's brand of psuedointellectualism and wordplay has nearly crippled the General Convention in its response to the Windsor Report and, by extension, the entire Anglican church.  Words are piled on top of words.  Meaning is obscured.  And the light at the end of the tunnel starts to look suspiciously like an oncoming train.

So much for covering bad theology with bad etymology.

Is Anglican clarity an oxymoron?

I promised myself I wasn't going to write about General Convention. Really. I did.

Clearly, I don't know myself as well as I think I do.

I did a little dipping (for a few minutes a day) into the Anglican blogs (titusonenine, standfirminfaith, etc.) during the week, but today I spent more time with it. I almost wish I hadn't.

If anyone has any doubt whatsoever that the resolution being passed comports with what Windsor and Dromantine demand, check out the following answer Bishop V. Gene Robinson gave at an Integrity/HRC press conference on Wednesday, June 14th:

Columbus Dispatch: There are resolutions expressing regret. Are you not saying that you were wrong if you say you “regret” what you did?

VGR: the resolution simply reaffirms the [House of Bishops'] expression of regret for the pain and discomfort that has been experienced in Communion. We can only regret what we did if we were sorry that we did it. We are not. We are sorry that it has caused pain. I don’t see support for anything further than that in the [House of Bishops].

[Emphasis mine. Very rough transcript courtesy of StandFirmInFaith.com; streaming mp3 of press conference here.]

Well. I'm glad we've got that little issue clarified.

On Capote, Truthfulness, and Repentance

One semester in college, I took a "film as literature" class. One of the stated objectives the professor had was that we would learn to "notice what we notice (and what we don't notice)." In other words, what we are quick to see in media provides a clue to who we are.

I thought about this again when I finally got around to renting "Capote" last night.  Wow.  Philip Seymour Hoffman pulled off a stunning performance.  After all, Truman Capote was a man whose signature affect would have been easy to caricature but difficult to embody realistically.  (The exact vocal intonation and half-awake facial expression I remember from 70s talk shows only showed up once, during a scene in which Capote was sloshed on martinis. Was he drunk every time I saw him on TV as a child?  I have to wonder now.)

During an almost throw-away line at the beginning of the film, Capote is partying with the cosmopolitan elite and having a bull session about truthfulness. He holds himself up as the soul of honesty, a revelation which brings howls of derisive laughter from his friends. "No, really, I'm very truthful," he protests.

The rest of the film exposes that as a lie.

The film "Capote" deals solely with the events surrounding the publication of his landmark book In Cold Blood.  Although he lived another twenty or so years after its publication, it was the last book he completed.

Why?

The story details, in sometimes hearbreaking detail, how untruthful he could be, how obvious that character flaw was to those who loved him, and how much in denial he was about himself.

While interviewing Perry Smith, Smith asks him what the title of Capote's book is. Capote feigns ignorance: "I have no idea. I've hardly written anything." When Smith confronts him with a newspaper article describing his first public reading of a book called In Cold Blood, Capote blatantly lies, saying the publisher picked an "admittedly sensational" title for publicity purposes. Capote can't afford for Smith to know how he's really been portrayed, so he soothes Smith's ego, then goes in for the kill by pressing him to talk about the actual murders. Once he has that story, he knows, the book is complete ... and he can let Smith and his accomplice go to the gallows.

Capote knows he's captured somethiing extraordinary - something that would change the face of American literature - between the covers of his manuscript. And he uses that knowledge to justify his deceptive, manipulative behavior to himself. But his conscience gets the better of him anyway.

Forced by his friend Harper Lee to visit the murderers on the night of their hanging, Capote breaks down and weeps uncontrollably. And here's where the "notice what you notice" part comes in. What I saw in Hoffman's agonizingly twisted, tear-streaked face was remorse over his treatment of these two men. But what Hoffman intended (according to the audio commentary laid over this scene on the DVD) was that Capote was genuinely sorry to lose these men as friends.

Who's right? Maybe we both are. But I ask you to consider the evidence: Why was Capote never able to complete another book? Why did he eventually drown in a sea of alcohol?

And why did he inscribe a later, unfinished manuscript with this quote from St. Teresa of Avila:

"More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones."