Can unity be maintained despite the presence of seemingly unyielding disagreement?

I’m reposting my commentary, which first appeared under the handle of Julesrud here (it’s the post that got me into my own blog--for good or for ill). Though it concerns the ordination and marriage of gays and lesbians in the Episcopal Church, I believe that one could substitute any of the issues facing the Roman Catholic Church as the conclave to select a new Pope begins tomorrow. Dissidents see an opportunity for moving the Church in directions that John Paul II, however beloved, firmly quashed. (The chance of publicly airing dirty laundry was also greatly minimized by him--no such luck for the Anglican Communion.) --------------- My commentary is too long to post as a response (hence the kind invitation of Sister Dash for me to guest-post), though it is my contribution to the discussion going on (regarding the unity of the church throughout the issue of the ordination of gays and lesbians) in Sister Dash’s and Brother Dwight’s respective blogs. I’ve been trying to figure out for days why the discussion at large is so frustrating to me. It often feels that the various sides find it difficult to get beyond gainsaying (“Is so!” “Is not!”) to a real discussion. And I don’t mean the discussions going on in Dash’s and Dwight’s blogs--I believe that there is genuine honesty, listening, and charity for the participants there. I mean instead The Discussion in our world, whether in synods, blogs, letters to the editor, private conversations. I’m trying to come at this from a different angle, because The Discussion more or less feels stuck. Or, perhaps more accurately, I feel stuck. What seems amazingly clear to me seems devastatingly sinful to a large number of my brothers and sisters, regardless of the faith to which they adhere. I suppose I seem willfully disobedient to them. I know that it’s possible, or probably likely, that all of my processing on this topic is guided by a desire to discover and share information that supports my position. I know it can lead to intellectual dishonesty to start with a thesis that I’m trying to prove, because it’s quite convenient to ignore anything that doesn’t support my viewpoint. I’m leading with my heart, here. Not only that, I find that each piece of this I write reveals new concerns to me--holes left unfilled, so that I know my position is anything but finished. (A very dangerous position for a perfectionist to place herself in!--I so love to construct airtight arguments, and will have to confess that much of this is a leap of faith.) Not to mention only loosely organized. So I must acknowledge that I believe marriage is, or should be, a covenant between two people, not governed by regard for gender or sexual identity. And I believe that other people’s opinion of that covenant is irrelevant; approval from any human outside a relationship isn’t what validates the existence of a relationship. At the same time, though, we are to be married in the context of community (at least according to the Church), so that our brothers and sisters may uphold us in our commitment--we don’t have to “go it alone,”--indeed, we are expected not to. Same as for any of the Sacraments. I guess that’s the sticking point: one can’t uphold a couple in their marriage if one doesn’t believe that that couple may be married. Anybody who’s been married knows how difficult it is, even when you are upheld--how much more difficult when no one approves, or even vigorously fights against it. I also must acknowledge that until my early 20s, I believed that homosexuality was a sin, a horrible depravity, as I had been raised to believe. How that changed is a topic for another time. The parallel for a paradigm shift (sorry about that phrase--I know it needs to be retired, but I haven’t got a better one) was introduced to me by Father David Cobb in a sermon I read online somewhere. Around the time of the ECUSA’s [Episcoapl Church-USA] general convention last summer (which included the Convention’s consent to the consecration of Father Eugene Robinson as bishop), Fr. Cobb likened this dispute to that of the early church over converting Gentiles, both in its intensity and the potential for a bitter split. Yet the early church emerged from its dispute unified, joyfully welcoming Gentiles into the church (Acts 10 and 11). My ever-evolving path still stops at this point: how does a community interact, especially when faced with difficulties and issues? Considering the requirement of obedience to church authority, especially when there’s honest dissent, I wonder how to challenge church authority without doing damage to church unity (if indeed, I as a dissenting individual hold so much power as to be able to damage an institution). Some authorities are so fragile as to claim any challenge (valid or not) is an attack on church unity. And rarely can a community rise above the maturity level of its leaders. I ponder the nature of the early church--what was it that allowed them to hear and accept Peter’s vision? Acts 10 and 11 seldom get a whole lot of airplay, and I don’t really know why. 10:27-29: “[Peter] went in and found that many had assembled; and he said to them, ‘You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a Gentile; but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean. So when I was sent for, I came without objection…’” and Peter then preached the Good News to the assembly at Cornelius’ house. Later, in verse 44: “While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles, for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter said, ‘Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?’ So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.” [NRSV] Interesting that Peter acted first--there was no consensus, as he most definitely acted unilaterally--and then in Chapter 11, responding to criticism from the “circumcised believers,” he explains what caused his change of heart: his vision. The community’s response? “And they praised God, saying, ‘Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life.’” What one was born as, in this case, a Gentile, was no longer an obstacle. DNA, accident of birth--irrelevant in the eyes of God. From “Listening Hearts”:

The prophet is not an easy person for the community to accept. It can be a trial for a community to hear the prophet’s voice and acknowledge that it comes from God, since the very task of the prophet is to challenge the status quo. A hundred years before the Civil War, John Woolman felt called to be an abolitionist among the Quakers, but he also felt that he should not undertake this without the blessing of his Meeting. As a result, Woolman wrestled with his faith community over this issue for two years; many members of the community owned slaves. While many did not agree with the abolitionist position, they came to believe that Woolman did have a call and promised to support him and his family while he responded to it. During the two years Woolman stayed and presented his call, the community’s members were deeply affected. Because of Woolman’s faithfulness to his call and willingness to work out that call in the community, the Quakers eventually came to oppose slavery. We can never achieve wholeness simply by ourselves but only together with others. Consequently, as we involve the community in discerning call, God enlivens and strengthens both us and the community.

[Farnham, Gill, McLean, Ward; Morehouse Publishing 1991] I’m attempting to contrast the examples of the early church and the Quakers with today’s disputes--I suspect there are differences, but what, exactly, are they? I was rather young when the ELCA [Evangelical Lutheran Church in America] opted to ordain women, so I can hardly address whether they did it better than the ECUSA (Dwight’s blog, 12/21/04, paragraph 14). Nor do I think that the ECUSA’s consecration of Eugene Robinson is as horribly disrespectful to the other members of the Anglican Communion as some think (in comparison with other church conflicts it’s not--for instance, right now I’m reading about the Borgias, Estes, and Pope Alexander VII in a biography of Lucretia Borgia). I know only enough Anglican Church history to make me dangerous. The Elizabethan Settlement is what really established the Anglican Church, not so much Henry VIII. The goal was to stop Catholics and Protestants from killing each other following the death of Mary Tudor. Shaped in compromise, the Anglican Communion has long followed its Via Media (“middle way”), though it has of late seemed more like “don’t ask, don’t tell.” The most rapid growth of the Anglican Communion has occurred on the African continent and in Asia, while the ECUSA and the Anglican Church in Great Britain are experiencing great shrinkage. What “saved” the early Anglican Church is what may now lead to the seemingly inevitable rupture: No one was required to resolve any differences of belief, so long as they all used the Book of Common Prayer and gathered together in the pews. The Anglican Communion has barely acknowledged the existence of the very real, significant differences in doctrine, history, and culture among its member bodies. The potential for rift has existed for a long time, but it commanded little attention or energy so long as no provoking acts were committed. Even among those who have recognized the sleeping dangers, the learning curve is quite daunting. Are actions taken by the ECUSA (i.e., consecration in the face of expressed opposition) any more reprehensible than the refusal of the anti-gay ordination majority of the Communion to consider the idea without immediately labeling it “sinful”? Prolonged discussion seemed to be mere foot-dragging, of the sort where you keep someone talking, hoping, and maybe they won’t notice that no action is being taken. Talks can be a mechanism for avoidance of decision or action, a passive-aggressive reaction. Note that Woolman’s Quaker community required only two years to begin to change its heart. The ECUSA has been talking about the issue of the ministry of homosexuals in the church for far longer--and other members of the Anglican Communion have been iterating the “gay is sinful” position for at least the same amount of time. How can a community honestly enter into discernment when one or more parties claims veto power? (Can’t even touch the Roman Catholic Church on this one…) I haven’t seen a whole lot of evidence of openness to prophets on the part of the anti-gay majority--if it’s there, it certainly is cloaked. Just as it was for equal rights--civil rights for second class citizens in this country have taken a long, tortuous path--every possible delay, every possible obstacle. If the ECUSA’s handling of the ordination of women, adoption of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, and the consecration of Eugene Robinson as a bishop seems overbearing, unilateral, and sinful to many, is it a surprise that a blow-up had to occur in order for the issue to ripen in a way that could not be ignored any more? Why hasn’t the model of the early church been mirrored in our time, resulting in the fruit of the Spirit? The biggest enemy of church unity is not that of dissent, but of complacency. I don’t mean the usual implication of lowered standards leading to descent down the slippery slope. I mean “self-satisfaction accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies” [Merriam-Webster]--allowing calcification of one’s beliefs. It leaves no room for prophets. Yep, that’ll threaten unity more than any overt act.