Hanging out my shingle

Well, it's taken a lot of time (more than ten years), and it's taken a lot of thought and prayer, but I finally did it: I applied for and received clergy credentials through the Universal Life Church. I am now officially, if humbly, The Rev'd Thomas H. Harbold.

Because the ULC confers ordination on anyone who is willing to accept and abide by two simple tenets -- "to promote freedom of religion," and "to do what is right" -- I know a lot of people become ULC ministers as a joke, or as an ego boost. In my case, it is neither.

For a very long time, since 1983 in fact, I have been torn (and I don't use that word lightly) between two spiritual traditions: Christianity on the one hand, particularly (since '89) in its classical Anglican expression, and some form of Earth-based spirituality (Paganism) on the other. At times the pendulum has swung more toward one or the other, but never have I felt entirely comfortable in either: mainly because both tend to be the homes of people who have very negative opinions of the other (with the exception of some Christians, mainly Episcopalians, who have become so "liberal" that they've all but lost touch with historic Christianity entirely).

My view is rather different: I believe that both paths contain good teachings and essential (if often metaphorical) truths that are lost if their essence is too-far diluted; that each is entitled to the integrity of its own traditions, and that people of good will can be found in large numbers in both spiritual paths. So it pains me that so many Christians talk negatively about "those Pagans" and so many Pagans about "those Christians" without, in many cases, truly understanding what it is they're talking about... or else speaking out of personal pain which I honor and with which I empathize, but which I contend is not sufficient grounds for painting whole groups of people with an excessively broad brush.

Add to this my long sense of call -- of vocation -- to some form of spiritual ministry, dating to at least since 1989. This is a vocation which has been affirmed by many people over the years, although interestingly not by organized religious bodies. I have done baptisms for friends, and I have been asked to do marriages (which requests I have had to turn down, of course, up until now), and I have provided various levels of spiritual counsel to various people, mostly friends, over the years. But there has been a limit to what I could do, not being ordained, and as I say, formal religious bodies have been less willing to affirm my vocation than have friends and even casual acquaintances.

The Commission on Ordained Ministry for the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland, for instance, rejected my application for postulancy in 1997 on the grounds that I was "too scholarly" for parish priesthood. A couple of years later, one of my sixth-graders at the Carroll County Outdoor School, a very perceptive little girl, informed me solemnly that "you should be a priest." Out of the mouths of babes and children...! And that's only one of a number of similar incidents.

So I have found myself in a situation where typical sources of access to ordination have either been closed to me, or are rendered uncomfortable because I am too much of a pan(en)theist and animist to be acceptable to most Christian seminaries, and too willing to see the good in Christianity to be entirely comfortably in an exclusively Pagan context. Besides, most Churches, whether Pagan or Christian, want me to start over more-or-less from scratch, and I quite frankly have neither the time, nor the energy, nor the desire, to do that.

My academic credentials, not meaning to sound immodest, are at least the equal of most clergy in most traditions: B.A., medieval studies, Western Maryland College, 1991; Master of Theological Studies, concentrating in Ecological Theology and History of Christianity, Vanderbilt Divinity School, 1995 (then the second-ranked divinity school in the U.S., academically); Certificate in Park Management, with a concentration in Environmental Education, Frederick Community College, 2001; and several courses in education at both WMC (now "McDaniel") and Carroll Community College.

In terms of practical ministerial experience, I spent just over seven years as a Licensed Lay Preacher and Licensed Lay Reader, preaching in a regular rotation at my (Episcopal) parish church, leading the Daily Office of Morning Prayer, and officiating in services at a local assisted-living community; more than nine years as Lector, Chalicist, and Licensed Eucharistic Minister; I've taught adult and youth Christian Education, as well as Confirmation classes; and have been a Subdeacon and Postulant for Holy Orders (just one step below Candidate) at a Continuing (traditional) Anglican Church as well.

Since 1983, when I first discovered the Pagan or Neopagan tradition through Starhawk's The Spiral Dance, I have engaged in a mostly solo, eclectic, practice; but I have been affiliated at different times with two different Wiccan Circles, the Temple of the Silver Crescent in Laurel, MD, and Oak, Ash, and Thorn in Nashville, TN, and have also been affiliated with two different Druidic Orders: Cedarlight Grove, ADF (Ar nDraiocht Fein), of Grove which I was at one point elected Chief Liturgist, and the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids, a British Druidic Order whose study program I am currently undertaking (I am presently in the Bardic Grade).

Does all of this make me worthy or qualified to undertake the practice of ordained ministry? Well, certainly not worthy. I don't think anyone is truly worth to interpret Deity to the people, or lay the people's cares and concerns before the Divine. And anyone who thinks he or she is, is almost certainly not! But that's where humility and trust come in. Qualified? *waggles hands in a yea-nay gesture* Not in every respect, certainly. In particular, I haven't had the training in pastoral care that I might ideally like to have, although I have had perhaps all too much experience in dealing with issues of grief and loss. But as the saying goes in the Christian tradition, God "does not call the equipped, he equips the called."

I hope and trust that will prove true, because I do believe that I have been for many years and remain called to a somewhat more "formal" or "official" practice of ministry than has been possible to date. Exactly what form that may take, remains to be seen! But the ULC credential gives me the freedom to cross not only denominational boundaries but also the lines of faiths and traditions: to be a truly interfaith minister. Particularly in the context of my work with Spoutwood -- an interfaith community if there ever was one! -- I find that not only liberating, but essential.

So, we shall see what we shall see. And in any case, as I say, my shingle is out... the one reading

The Rev'd Thomas H. Harbold
Interfaith Minister

In service to both the human community and that mysterium tremendum et fascinans * which both permeates and transcends our physical/sensory reality,

Tom


* "awesome and fascinating mystery," in the words of theolgian Rudolf Otto, in seeking to describe the Indescribable... that indwelling yet transcendent Divinity which has been called Great Mystery or Great Spirit, and by many other names, by many cultures throughout time and across the globe.

P.S. My ULC ordination grants me the ability to perform marriage, within the laws and regulations of the state, and to perform "funerals, baptisms, last rites or any other sort of legal ceremony or ritual you wish to perform, except circumcision." I had no desire to perform the last, anyway! Out of my deep respect for the Christian eucharist, and its close connection with the apostolic succession of ministry, I choose not to perform any service which might be construed as Christian communion, unless or until I am ordained within a valid line of succession.

Re: The Fall of Man and the Neolithic Revolution

My good friend "Roland," over at the Two Natures blog, posted a fascinating essay entitled, you guessed it, "The Fall of Man and the Neolithic Revolution." It is a very good piece, and I encourage you to read it before you read my own thoughts on the subject.

I was particularly interested to read this post, as I have been thinking along similar lines myself, for many years. Since at least my college days, in fact.

I actually had posited the (pre-)historical Fall to have occured earlier, when hominids first came down from the trees and began to walk upright, use tools, etc. -- when they first began to exhibit reflective thinking, in other words, rather than relying on instinct. But some non-human primates (chimps, for instance) and even some birds (crows, parrots) seem able to do some of those things. Does that mean that they, too, have the prospect of being "fallen"? That seems unlikely. And Roland makes a good case that it was when we stepped out of our proper "place" in nature, our natural role in the overall scheme of things, that we ran into trouble.

In any case, I have come to believe that creatures living in a state of nature -- that is, living in accordance with their natures, which is inherently also living in accordance with God's intention/will/plan -- are also living in a state of grace. And that included hominids/humans until, as Roland writes, we "left the garden," e.g., gave up living in "our place" in the natural scheme of things and began seriously manipulating Creation (and each other) for our own ends. That was clearly a "fall from grace," and "expulsion from the garden," as we began using/manipulating/destroying the garden (the earth/nature, or as some would have it, Gaia) to suit ourselves.

I think that is a major reason that earth/nature-based religions have never lost their appeal, although they have periodically been driven underground, and why (want to talk controversial!) I believe that Christianity, important as it is, does not and perhaps cannot serve as a complete answer to the spiritual longings of many (most?) humans. Although it contains within itself (mostly from the Old Testament, but there are also hints in certain of Paul's writings) the seeds of a viable theology of Creation, care for Creation, and dynamic, even ecstatic, union with the rest of (non-human) Creation, those seeds have never germinated in any meaningful way.

Christianity's importance, as I see it, is in addressing a) the problem of mortality, an issue in much (though not all) of the ancient world, and b) the problem of sin, also an issue for a number of the ancients, but especially for the Jewish people. And it accomplishes both through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Well and good, so far. But one of the reasons I think Christianity is losing ground in the contemporary world (aside from televangelists and others who present it as a caricature or parody of itself) is that neither of those issues -- for better or for worse -- is a major concern for most contemporary Americans, or Westerners in general, for that matter.

Many, if not most, of those in our generation, and those immediately preceding and following us, tend to accept some sort of continuation of life following the death of the physical body as a given. That may be "cultural capital" from Christianity, or it may be an intuited sense of "the way things are, or must be." In either case, immortality is not a major concern for most folks these days, and people who have been exposed to a plethora of cultures and religions since childhood also tend to look askance at the limited/limiting criteria for entering into that afterlife, according to Christianity.

Things which classical Christianity has viewed as sins -- especially sexual and other personal sins, such as individual greed ("whoever dies with the most toys, wins") -- are very clearly not viewed as sins by most people today (again, for better or for worse), and my own opinion is that Christians can talk about them till we're blue in the face, and we're not gonna convince anybody who's not already predisposed to be convinced.

[That doesn't mean they're irrelevant, by a long shot. Christianity is at its best when it is addressing the many ways we fall short, as individuals, of being the kind of person most of us, in our heart-of hearts, know we could and should be. As author Thomas Cahill cogently pointed out, in his book How the Irish Saved Civiliation, "Saint Paul trumps Plato." In other words, whereas Plato idealistically insisted that those who truly know the Good will seek to act accordingly, Paul more realistically lamented that "the good which I would I do not, but the evil which I would not, that I do" (Romans 7:19, KJV).]

On the other hand, people are looking at things like global warming, pollution of the air and water on a massive scale, widespread species extinction, wars and the oppression of various peoples, corporate greed, and governmental corruption, and seeing that Christianity has little to say -- or little that it's been willing or able to say -- on those kinds of pressing issues, and are becoming understandably disillusioned. Christianity seems to be standing by and acquiescing -- and in some quarters (particularly evangelical protestant/fundamentalist quarters, although I know there are exceptions here), contributing moral support -- to the degradation and destruction of Creation.

I will never forget how appalled I was, and still am, at seeing a poster in my former church picturing the classic view of the Earth from space, with the legend, "Without Christ, it's just a vicious circle." That is, quite frankly, horse hockey -- it's simply not true, on several levels -- but it does an excellent job of encapsulating what is wrong with Christianity, in the minds of many Americans and other Westerners. I think there is an acute and growing sense that, in the words of the old song (was it by Crosby, Stills, and Nash?), "we've got to get ourselves back to the Garden." Otherwise, the human experiment itself might be doomed, and we're almost certain to take a lot of innocent species with us.

So, yes, I agree with Roland that the neolithic revolution -- for all its fascination, benefits, and promise -- undoubtedly was "'the event' that, more than any other, set mankind on a new trajectory that has led to alienation from God, our fellow creatures, and our own nature." The trick is figuring out how to overcome that alienation without a complete cultural, technological and societal collapse that returns a surviving remnant of humans, willy-nilly, to a hunter-gatherer mode of living! Christianity may be able to help in this process, but so far I have not seen a great deal of evidence that it is either willing or able to do so.

Insofar as the "job" of a religion or spiritual path is to give meaning, purpose, and direction to life, and to both express a proper relationship between God, humans, and their physical environment and to encourage/enable people to live into that relationship -- a not-unreasonable set of criteria, I would think -- Christianity has not failed to accomplish this end for contemporary humanity, but it is by-and-large failing, and will fail ever more catastrophically as environmental problems worsen, unless or until it is able to overcome its historical (and rather Gnostic) tendency to define humans as being both over and against the rest of Creation.

We may not want or be able to return to a hunter-gatherer mode of being (although that undoubtedly is the ideal, for humans -- the way of life which is most in keeping with our true natures), but unless we find some way to get "back to the Garden," in the sense of finding ways to live sustainably on this Earth, in communion with Nature and not in competition with her, and unless our spiritual paths assist and promote this transformation, we are probably more-or-less doomed.

As they say on the internet, "imho -- ymmv." *

http:www.abotech.com

* "in my humble opinion," "your mileage may vary."

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And as I added to another friend of mine, to whom I forwarded both pieces, Roland's and my own:

As far as attaining/maintaining our fullest humanness, I tend to believe that our "original," hunter-gatherer way of life was (and, where still possible, remains) the ideal. Agriculture is next in line, at least agriculture which is human-scaled and sustainable. Cities are pretty much on the other end of the spectrum. It's possible to be human in a city, it may even be possible to be fully human in a city (although I'm not totally convinced of that), but it requires an immense amount of effort, more often than not. Is it possible to reconstruct cities in more human/humane modes? Probably... but again, it's difficult, because you're fighting the very nature of the urban entity itself (see Dunbar's Number, a.k.a., the "Monkeysphere").

As the ol' rocker once said, "what a long, strange trip it's been..."

Some thoughts on Christianity and Culture

I originally wrote the following post for an online forum I frequent; the thread was entitled "Faith, Fellowship, and this Forum." I launched that thread in response to comments from some of its members that the forum was becoming known as a conservative Christian forum, when that was not its intended purpose. The general tenor of the conversation that followed will be apparent from my post. I decided not to post this one on that thread, as I feared it would be too controversial, and throw gasoline on a fire which was beginning to die down... but because some of the points I raised are ones I think are important to raise, I wanted it to be posted somewhere. Well, gee! I have a blog. So here 'tis.

(Warning: this is a long post.)

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First off, I think that E___ and others have the right idea: we don't, or shouldn't, need to be walking on eggshells. I think we should all relax, practice -- as M___ said -- a bit of self-censorship (there were real advantages to the old "no talk about religion or politics in public" policy that used to be common in our society, but there are advantages to being more open about both, too), and most importantly, operate in a spirit of good-will, and assume that others are doing the same. We're all friends, here; there isn't any reason that I know to figure that anyone is acting out of anything but the best motives. Y'know?

That said, I have a couple of observations which I would like to share, also in the spirit of good will and friendliness. I hope that what I'm about to say won't offend anyone, but in case it does, please forget it, and forgive me.

First, I think that Christians in general, and conservative Christians in particular, do get the short end of the stick a lot of the time, in the public square, in the media, and in the news. The whole "Christmas - Holiday" thing is a particular sore point for me. I celebrate Christmas, and I get frustrated, not only at chirpy "Happy Holiday" greetings from cashiers (have you noticed that that's become the standard greeting, even for secular holidays like the Fourth of July? ... it's ridiculous, imho), but from trying to find a Christmas card that actually wishes somebody "Merry Christmas." Even ones featuring churches or other religious themes still often say "Season's Greetings" or "Happy Holidays" inside.

If someone wants to wish me a happy Diwali, or Eid, I'll gladly smile and say "thank you," if not "the same to you!" Since I have a fair number of Pagan friends, I do get wished "Blessed Solstice," or whatever the case may be, on a fairly regular basis. I appreciate and return the sentiments. I just don't find it that big a deal. So why is it so much of a problem to wish someone "Merry Christmas," without giving offense, or be wished it, without taking offense? Well, there may be some reasons (see below), but in general I think it's a great deal of ado about really very little.

And Christmas trees are Christmas trees, thank you very much. If you don't celebrate Christmas, and want to call it a "Hannukah Bush" or whatever, that's fine, but the custom of having an evergreen tree in your house toward the end of December was a German custom imported into England and from thence to the U.S. during the Victorian era to celebrate... wait for it... Christmas. It may have Pagan connotations, extending back into the Mists of History, and that's fine, too. But it's a Christmas tree, darn it, not a generic "holiday" one. Again, in my (ever so) humble opinion!

The Ten Commandments are a more complex issue. I can see both sides in that argument, and I'm not going to pass judgement here.

To return to the subject of Christmas, though, I wrote a column last Christmas (not this just past one, but 2005) on the subject of "be careful what you ask for, you may get it." When I was growing up in the 1960s, 70s, and even early 80s, Christmas was largely secularized (as famously lampooned and lamented in Charles Schultz's wonderful classic, "A Charlie Brown Christmas"), but it was celebrated as Christmas.

Over the last twenty years or so, Christians -- largely conservative, evangelical Christians -- have run a massive campaign to "put Christ back in Christmas." I suspect that it is precisely to their success in doing so -- re-linking Christmas with Christ, in the popular imagination -- that we owe the "Happy Holiday-ization" of what was formerly the Christmas season. "Okay, they want Christ back in Christmas? Fair enough, we'll just replace Christmas with something more generic and secular."

That's an over-simplification, of course; there were and are undoubtedly other forces at work. But it does point to the fact that popular opinion, particularly but not exclusively the so-called "intellectual elite" that are represented in/by the governing and "talking classes," are mistrustful of a too-open or too-enthusiastic display of public religiosity.

I can empathize with this, frankly. For one thing, while we are indeed guaranteed "freedom of religion, not freedom from religion," as the saying goes, even within Christianity there is so much variation in doctrine and practice that it's hard to say what a "Christian nation" would look like, even if it were attainable. As an Anglican Christian, I have to say that I would be decidedly uncomfortable with, say, a Baptist theocracy (no offense to any Baptists on-board), simply because some elements of their doctrine and practice are quite different from some of mine.

Thus the wisdom of our American Founders in refusing to establish a religion, still less a denomination, for this country. I do not happen to believe there needs to be a "wall of separation between Church and State" (a private opinion of one of the Founders which does not appear in any public document of the Founding), but I do think there needs to be at least a semi-permeable membrane, to control and limit what passes from one to the other.

The intentions of our Founders aside, there are plenty of reasons why someone might mistrust or even dislike Christianity. One that I have wrestled with, at various times in my life, is the sometimes excessive zeal with which some Christians attempt to fulfill the Great Commission. Pushy anyone -- salesman or evangelist -- turns me off, personally. And if you link that to the frequent implication (if not flat-out statement) that if you are not "saved," by the would-be evangelist's definition (often including membership in his or her particular denomination or sect), you are thereby damned, you have a recipe for breeding a dislike not only of that proselytizer and his/her church, but Christianity as a whole. Guilt by association, as it were.

Then there is the question of what I like to call an honest agnosticism, which many of us have to a greater or lesser degree. I am no atheist, by any stretch of the imagination, but I do tend to agree with the words of one atheistic author, who recently wrote something to the effect that "religion is the only sphere of human discourse in which it's considered noble to be certain about things no human being could possibly be certain about." Insistence on belief -- particularly intellectual assent in a literalist way, rather than a more metaphorical or metaphysical understanding -- in things about which no human being could possibly be certain is a good way to turn off many folks with an intellectual frame of mind.

There is also another issue which has probably become more of an issue since 9/11, and that is the stated desire by some Christian conservatives to "restore" or "return" America to its identify as a Christian nation. That's the sort of thing that sounds good when you're saying it within your own faith community, or even when you look at it in historical terms... but whether it's a good idea, in practice, now, is an entirely different kettle of fish.

We are a vastly more heterogenous -- diverse -- people, religiously, culturally, and ethnically, now in 2007 than we were in 1907, and moreso then than in 1807. And the question I raised above returns: to what sort of Christianity are we to "return"? Anglican? Presbyterian? Methodist? Baptist? And which branch of those denominations, at that? Or maybe non-denominational? That would be an a-historical novelty, not a return.

So even if all were agreed that it was a good idea (as, in fact, all are not), there are a plethora of practical and theological difficulties in attaining that goal. I am not, personally, a blind supporter of multi-culturalism as an automatic and absolute good, but I am also cognizant of the fact that, even if we wanted to, a return to a (mostly) WASP culture and religion in the US is out of the question, practically speaking.

And even the idea of America as a "Christian nation" has resonances that seem sinister, for many people, in the age of radical Islamofascism. We are fighting the likes of the Taliban and al-Qaeda; we do not, by and large, want to become them, or a Christian mirror-image of them. But talk of returning to being a Christian nation, with traditional Christian morality, Christian values and ethics, and so on -- particularly when couched in terms like "God-fearing" or "godly living" -- sets many folks' teeth on edge. Translated into Arabic, those kinds of terms and expressions sound a lot like what comes out of Islamist websites.

I am not saying that conservative Christians are Taliban-like, or that a "Christian America" would look like Afghanistan, only without the burkhas. But the danger is there, and more importantly, the perception is there. I think if more conservative Christians could step back and look at how things like praying for mass conversions, or talking about restoring America to Christianity, look to people outside their own faith community, they would see that it can appear quite threatening, even if that is not their intention.

I guess in wrapping up I mean to say that while I believe it is an unfortunate truth, and not just a perception, that Christians (especially of the conservative variety) are often unfairly put upon, censored, etc., this situation does not arise in a vacuum, or simply out of a desire to be mean. I hate to say it, but sometimes conservative Christians' actions and attitudes, words and deeds, can provide ammunition to their foes... or even not necessarily foes, just people who have a broader view when it comes to issues of spirituality, morality, etc., than do those conservative Christians themselves.

And in saying all this, I am certainly not intending to be mean, or judgemental, or anything of the sort, myself! Just trying to provide some context for a situation which often seems to leave folks wondering "why?"

I love all my friends on this board, whatever their spiritual path, and I (along with my mother, while she was alive) have been the grateful recipient of prayers and positive thoughts from folks of a wide variety of faith traditions. I am deeply grateful for the prayers of my Christian friends who have been praying for Ma and me, but I am not less grateful for the prayers, thoughts, energy, etc., of my friends of other faiths. Many threads go into making a strong-but-beautiful tapestry.

And I suppose that, finally, is my message and my hope in writing this: that we will all come to understand each other better, and appreciate each other more. I think we on this board are further along that path than many folks, and I hope we can continue the journey together, all of us. If I have a hope and a dream and a wish for us here, it would be that we could not only talk and share together and with each other openly but non-judgementally, but that we could also pray with and for each other in ways that maintain the integrity of our own faith traditions, but also respect those of others.

In that way we could be even more what we are already: a microcosm and an example of the way the world could, and ought, to be.

Giving up consumerism for lent (Column)

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the first day of the Christian penitential season of Lent, as observed by Roman Catholics, Anglicans, and even many Protestants, although our Eastern Orthodox brothers and sisters began their Lent yesterday. For Western Christians, today is Shrove Tuesday, the past tense of a somewhat archaic English word ("shrive," past perfect "shriven") meaning to have confessed and been forgiven one's sins.

The forty days of Lent are traditionally a time of fasting -- abstaining from food, especially rich foods -- in penitence for one's past sins, for the grace to amend one's life, and in memory of the forty days Christ fasted in the wilderness. Therefore today is also sometimes called "Pancake Day" or "Doughnut Day," for the same reason that the French (including the Cajun French of Louisiana) call it Mardi Gras, literally "Fat Tuesday": making doughnuts or pancakes is a good way to use up all the fats and oils in the house, before the Lenten fast begins.

If you see a friend or neighbor with what looks like a smudge of dirt on their forehead tomorrow, Ash Wednesday, it is the mark of ashes, imposed by a priest or pastor in order that the recipient may "remember that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return." It is a sober, and indeed salutary, reminder of our own mortality, and the fact that we don't have an unlimited amount of time to get our lives in order.

Traditionally, Lent has been largely about individual sins, whether of commission or of omission: "We have left undone those things that we ought to have done; and we have done those things that we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us," in the words of the traditional Anglican prayer of confession. But individual sins often manifest in ways that affect other people, or even the larger world, and it's to some of those that I'd like to direct our attention as we -- whether Christian or otherwise -- move into the season of Lent, the season of repentance.

To repent of something one has done is not just a matter of feeling sorry about it. It means to literally turn back or turn around, and proceed in a more positive direction. So you may consider this, if you like, a call to both individual and collective repentance.

I would like to call us, first of all, to repent of our pattern of consumerism, of conspicuous consumption, which the Christian tradition has historically named as "greed." Despite notable exceptions, many of us have internalized, to one degree or another, the absurd notion that "whoever dies with the most toys wins," a recipe for social inequity and environmental catastrophe. Consumerism is a good word for this, as we are consuming the world's resources -- many of them, like fossil fuels, irreplaceable in any kind of human timescale -- at a frightening rate.

Closely allied to this, and equally needful of repentance, is the arrogance of power which allows us to carelessly or callously exploit both other people and natural resources in our "climb to the top," whatever we consider the "top" to be. Striving is not a bad thing, nor is achievement. But they become damaging and hurtful when we pursue them to the extent that we forget to love our neighbors as ourselves, or to practice responsible stewardship of this Earth, our home.

Finally, I want to call us to repent of over-emphasizing those elements in our spiritual traditions which direct our attention primarily, even solely, to the next world, to the exclusion and even detriment of this one.

Expectation of a continued spiritual existence in a world to come, a belief common to most religions, can empower us to live more fully and hopefully in this one. But an excessive emphasis on our heavenly home which allows us to devalue, degrade, and damage our present, earthly one is, I believe, wrong-headed, dangerous, and even sinful. Just as Jesus said you cannot love God and hate your neighbor, so you cannot rightfully claim to love the Creator while doing violence to the creation.

And so, on this Shrove Tuesday, as you eat your pancakes or doughnuts and ponder how to observe the Lenten fast, I hope that you'll consider emphasizing simplicity over consumerism, humility over prideful ambition, and care for the good earth God has given us over an obsessive concern for the world to come. These thoughts in mind, I wish you a holy Lent.

I am now a Subdeacon in the ACA

This morning, at the 9:15 service at St. Stephens Traditional Episcopal Church, I was (along with the other postulants in the parish) "set apart" for the "office and work of Subdeacon," by the Ven. Guy P. Hawtin, Rector of St. Stephens and Archdeacon of the Diocese of the Eastern United States, Anglican Church in America. Our sponsor was the Rev. James Johnson, Associate Rector of St. Stephens.

Lest any wonder just what the "office and work of Subdeacon" might be, here is the requisite part of the "Order for the Setting-Apart of Subdeacons":

Priest: Declare, we pray thee, unto those who are gathered, what the office and work of a Subdeacon are.

Then shall the Sponsor answer,
The duties of a Subdeacon are to read the Epistles, to assist at the Holy Table, and to administer the Chalice during the Eucharist; to read the Daily Offices and to study Holy Scripture; and to present an example of Christian humility and service in their daily lives.

In effect, I have been restored to all of the duties and offices I held at Ascension, save for preaching -- and we are to offer a couple of meditations during Lent, so there will even be a little bit of that. I was functioning effectively as a Subdeacon-plus at Ascension, though without the title. Now I have the title to go with the "office and work." And I am another step on the way toward eventual ordination.

I had expected to ask myself if I felt any different following this service of installation, and had expected to answer myself, "no, not really." Oddly, though, that's not the answer I get. Although this was not a service of ordination -- that is reserved, in our tradition, for the "major orders," and this is a "minor order" -- hands were indeed laid on my head, and it seems that some spiritual graces were indeed conferred. Or perhaps it is just that the solemnity of the occasion has served to underline the solemnity of the office in my mind.

In either case, I do feel a strong sense of reaffirmation and, perhaps, destiny toward my vocation to the priesthood... which is good, as I have to confess that it was becoming a bit shaky. Many factors and experiences in my personal life have battered against my sense of call and, indeed, my faith in recent months. It may be that I needed this. At any rate, I am grateful that it occured.

Brothers and sisters, please pray for me, a sinner, as I embark on this next phase of my journey.

Heaven's not so bad, after all

I recently ran across this review of militant atheist and crypto-Buddhist Sam Harris' book, Letter to a Christian Nation. While the review, entitled "The Celestial Teapot," was quite interesting in many respects, it seemed to me that the reviewer, James Wood, was seriously astray on at least one point. This is my response to his review, left in the Comments section:

Dear Mr. Wood:

I read with considerable interest your objections to the "Free Will Defense" of Christianity, as this is precisely the approach I have used in coming to terms with the theodicy: if God intervened whenever there was a problem, we would lose both our free will and our ability to function for ourselves, our ability (however inadequate it can be, at times) to come up with solutions to our own problems. We would end up being either automatons or resentful servitors of God, depending on how much awareness was left to us.

God could easily have created automatons, but chose not to -- so the Christian tradition teaches -- because he wanted humans to come to love him freely, of their own choice, without necessary (intrinsic, "hard-wired") constraint. He may be willing to apply both carrots and sticks to convince us, but ultimately, the choice still is ours. I have been over the arguments and objections so many times on my own that nothing you have raised convinces me to rethink that notion.

But the idea that heaven itself is part of the problem was novel to me, and so I read that section with considerable interest and attention. With all due respect, however, I think you're rather missing the point.

True, heaven is a constraint on freedom, for those living there. And I confess, I have problems with the notion of spending an eternity chanting the praises of the Triune Godhead. That sounds more torturous than beatific, to me. But I think we need to be careful about being too literalistic in our assessments of heaven. Whatever our image of it, we are likely to be surprised, I suspect, if/when we get there.

More to the point is the issue of constraint versus freedom. It is true that, if the Christian conception of heaven is true -- even allegorically -- we will have less freedom than we do here, in that we will no longer have the freedom (some would say, the desire) to do things that are evil, sinful, etc. But since many of us spend our lives, in part, struggling against the urge to do things that we know are wrong, is not that also a type of freedom -- perhaps, a freedom of a higher order? That we are freed from the base impulses of our nature, in order to give the higher ones free reign at last?

Furthermore, the reality is that the Christian faith itself is a constraint on freedom. If we are striving to be good Christians, there are choices we must make, and therefore things that we must decide not to do: give in to our baser appetites, for instance, whether for unrestrained sexuality, greed for money, or the arrogance of power. The point is that we choose not to do these things, we are not constrained -- except by our conscience, and our beliefs -- to prevent us from doing so.

Nor is Christianity alone in this. Being a good citizen is also a constraint on freedom. We do not have, if we are law-abiding citizens, the freedom to drive 95 mph in a 25 mph zone, or konk someone on the head and take something they have that we want. But although we may be constrained in part by fear of the law, for most of us, most of the time, we are constrained largely by our own choice: not to do things which are unbecoming a citizen. We exercise our freedom of will in ways which constrain our freedom of action. Christianity is no different, except that it has (presumably) more cosmic and long-lasting effects.

The point about heaven is that, while our freedom of action may be constrained once we get there -- although the classical tradition would argue more by the purification of our desires than by some sort of rigidly-imposed moral strait-jacket -- our choice to seek heaven is a free one. If we choose to embrace the Christian faith, it is presumably, hopefully, because we have considered both the options and the consequences, and made our choice accordingly. Not everyone has, of course; some do it out of fear, some out of inertia. But that's the ideal.

Therefore, I must respectfully disagree with your assertion that "heaven is the very problem." Not so, my friend, not so.

I have other objections to your objections, but I shan't belabor the point. The above must suffice. At any rate, if I have a problem with Christianity, it is its exclusivity -- claiming to be the only way to union with God -- not with the nature of heaven.

Having said all that, I have to say also that I greatly appreciated and enjoyed your essay, particularly Parts II and III, when you actually addressed the book(s). I have read neither, although I am familiar with the contents and concepts contained therein -- and I agree with Harris that "Religion is the one area of our discourse where it is considered noble to pretend to be certain about things no human being could possibly be certain about." Rather odd, that.

Nonetheless, this review, overall, tends to confirm my gut sense that reading either Dawkins or Harris complaining about religion would be a waste of my time. I find it in part amusing, in part simply sad, that men of such great intellect would waste it attempting to disprove what cannot be disproved, and endeavoring to convince people who cannot be convinced. That they are operating far outside the bounds of their own disciplines, and thus are unfamiliar with the finer points and nuances of doctrine and discourse, is also usually painfully evident.

Far better, it seems to me, to devote such intellectual energy to finding ways in which believers (of all faiths) and non-believers alike can work together to better our world. That is what is chiefly needed, in my opinion. Should that be accomplished, we might actually have some tea in our terrestrial teapot.

Words of hope from Loreena McKennitt... and Gandhi

In the liner notes to her latest album, An Ancient Muse, Loreena McKennitt -- the Canadian neo-Celtic and world fusion singer with the amazingly ethereal voice, comments that this latest "musical document" includes "ruminations on the universal human themes of life and love, conquest and death; of home, identity, and the emigrations of people and the resulting evolution of culture." She continues,

Our paths may differ but our quests are shared: our desire to love and be loved, our thirst for liberty and our need to be appreciated as unique individuals within the collectivity of our society... Ever-mindful of the weight of history behind us that allows us to draw lessons from its ancient voice, I have not wavered in my conviction that we are a culmination of our shared histories and that there should be more to bind us together than to tear us apart. Nor have I ceased to hope that in striving toward harmonious, integrated diversity, we will be guided by collective beliefs that will be life affirming at their core.

I share both that conviction and that hope. Sadly, however, it appears that those of us who do so are a distinct minority in today's world.

These views certainly are not shared by the Islamofascists of al-Qaeda and its ilk. Alas, they are also apparently not shared by plenty of people here at home, either. While remaining mindful of the need to defend ourselves against those dedicated to our destruction, we must ensure that we present a credible philosophical and spiritual alternative to hatred, violence, and domination... not just present the same basic dish in a slightly different flavor.

But through it all, I am reminded of the words of Mahatma Gandhi, who said,

When I despair, I remember that, all through history, the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and, for a time, they may seem invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Think of it: always.

May it always remain so.

Personal news: Installation to the Subdiaconate

Some readers may know that, shortly prior to Advent of last year (2006), I switched ecclesiastical jurisdictions from the Episcopal Church to the Anglican Church in America, and was also granted postulancy for Holy Orders in that jurisdiction.

This coming Sunday, the 18th of February, during the 9:15 a.m. service, I (along with the other postulants in the parish) will be installed as a subdeacon at St. Stephens Traditional Episcopal Church, ACA, in Timonium, MD. In our tradition, this is installation to an office, not ordination (in the Roman Catholic Church, subdeacons are considered "clerks in minor orders"), but it is a further milepost on the journey.

I am also beginning efforts toward launching a mission parish of the ACA in Westminster, or at least in the Carroll County, MD, area. God willing, of course. We shall see what happens!