Heresy and Authority: On the Viability of the Anglican Option

I have watched for the past 10 years as the Anglican middle way, which I have come to love so much, has been turning into the broad way. Times of heresy are not new to the church - she has denied Christ's full deity and tried to sell the forgiveness of sins - but I am hard pressed to think of a time when the departure from Orthodoxy has been so total as it is today in the Episcopal Church. It is no longer surprising when they deny the uniqueness of Christ, approve every sort of immoral behavior, profane Christ's body by offering it to Hindus, or elect a Buddhist bishop. I call myself Anglican because I am ashamed to admit I attend an Episcopal church. I can't overstate the burden of oppression that weighs on my soul. I live on a tiny island of orthodoxy, in the midst of this abyss of heresy, called Blessed Sacrament. What are we to do?

My model for responding to heresy has always been the early church's reaction to the Arian heresy which nearly engulfed her. The few orthodox bishops who remained appointed several "replacement" bishops in Arian dioceses, so that there were in some places 2 people claiming to be the rightful Christian bishop. I infer from this that one can forfeit his spiritual authority by embracing heresy. A diocese with an Arian bishop is a diocese without a bishop.

The closest thing to this "dueling bishops" model that is available to us is the newly-formed Anglican Church of North America (ACNA), a confederation of conservative breakaway groups, a potential and hopeful 39th province, a way to be Anglican in the United States (and Canada) under bishops who confess the faith of the apostles. I see ACNA as a way for orthodox bishops to stand in the vacancies left by the apostacy of the Episcopal Church (TEC), rather than as a formally different church. I also expect the distinction between TEC and ACNA to be temporary. TEC is shrinking rapidly, as the liberal, Christless Christianity it has embraced is demonstrating itself to be unsustainable. When you jetison the gospel, you don't leave any compelling reason to want to be a Christian. I think my children will live to see this reunification.

But how do I, as a member of Blessed Sacrament, align myself with ACNA? It seems to me that by far the best course would be for the entire parish to leave TEC and join ACNA. But that is not going to happen. There are many in my parish who feel strongly about staying. The church belongs to God, after all, not General Convention. And they aren't about to let heretics kick them out of their church.

I've already explained how I don't see ACNA alignment as a fundamentally different church, but the fact remains that there are irreconcilable differences in the parish on this point. This forces a critical question for me: is full ACNA membership important enough to warrant leaving Blessed Sacrament? On the one hand, I desperately want to be part of an ACNA parish in repudiation of my bishop's authority. Some people who I respect are leaving for this reason. On the other hand I deeply want to stay. I courted here, I was married here, I've had 3 children here. The community is orthodox and nurturing, and I can't think of a better environment in which to raise a family. There is hardly any hope of making an unbiased decision.

I have decided, though, that whatever I do I cannot give up attendance at Blessed Sacrament[1]. It seems to me that there are two conflicting goods before me: being a part of an orthodox, nurturing community, and completely removing myself from the authority of a heretical bishop. It is not clear to me that I can't do the second without doing the first, or that the good of joining an ACNA parish justifies breaking fellowship with an orthodox body of believers who agree with me on most doctrinal matters except the proper response to systemic heresy in the church - which, as theological differences go, is fairly minor. I'm just not sure that the best way to decisively stand againts TEC heresy involves leaving an orthodox parish. If it sounds like I'm trying to have two contrary goods at the same time, it's because I'm Anglican. We've been doing it for 500 years.

There's another reason I can't leave Blessed Sacrament. One of the things I've picked up from Anglicanism (and the Rule of St. Benedict) is the importance of obedience to authority in church life. When I call my priest Father, it implies a certain spiritual authority over me and over the life of our parish. He has been very supportive of those of us who feel we need to re-align, but has also been constant in not supporting any courses of action that would split the parish. I am not convinced that removing myself from his authority for the sake of removing myself from my bishop's authority is productive or (for me) allowable. The question here is not "is this the best course?", but "is this course so wrong that I must reject my priest's leadership on the matter?" For me, it is not.

Having said that, it is obviously very important for me to be removed from the authority of TEC to the degree possible. What might that look like for those of us interested in the "Anglican Option", as we're calling it, who want to align with ACNA but can't leave Blessed Sacrament? This is still being worked out, but here are some of my thoughts:

1) Blessed Sacrament is already doing this to some extent. 3 of the priests who regularly help with the service are under ACNA bishops. It would be nice for one of them to co-consecrate the elements as often as is practical.
2) It's important for me to have an ACNA priest associated with our enclave. He could be from Blessed Sacrament or a local ACNA parish, and hopefully would provide a regular (bi-weekly?) evening mass - possibly piggybacking on an existing service.
3) It is also important to financially support both ACNA and Blessed Sacrament. That could mean the Blessed Sacrament vestry allocating a piece of the budget to regularly support them (which I would prefer), or perhaps the enclave could work something out internally.
4) This one is admittedly a little vapid. For years I've wanted to take down the "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You" sign outside the church. That won't be happening, but I wonder if we couldn't put up an "ACNA welcomes you, too" sign next to it.

I know there are some people for whom these or similar steps are insufficient. I hope we can work together so that the ACNA parish they land at is the same on the enclave associates itself with, so that we can maintain contact and establish a certain amount of fluidity between it and Blessed Sacrament.

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[1] Thanks to Tim Motte for helping me think through some of these issues.

On Fathering

Parenting young children is hard, but incredibly rewarding. As a father, you have enormous responsibility: to model the fatherhood of God to your children, to guide their behavior through discipline and (what is infinitely harder) by example, to love them when they are least loveable. You must model those two attributes of God which are so hard to reconcile: nearness and authority, friendship and otherness. Your mercy must sometimes be severe, though you cry out against it. Your task is impossible, which is actually a comfort: If it were not so you might be tempted to think that you could actually do it. Instead, you just stumble along asking your children to forgive you when you fail and asking God to cover your mistakes.

The magnitude of your task bows your head in humility, but it does not crush your shoulders under a weight too heavy to bear. For your yoke is easy, and your burden is light. You have the enormous priveledge of watching a young life grow up and mature under your care. You see a new personality emerge, and you rejoice in every new thought, every new ability. Fatherhood spans the range of human emotion: joy, laughter, anger at defiance. Tedium as you correct a fault for the thousanth time, sadness when your child is hurt by the world you have brought him into, compassion when you hold him sick in your arms.


Along my journey, I've picked up some principles which guide how I try to raise my children. Caveat emptor: since I'm making this up as I go along, I don't really know anything about parenting children older than four. I should also mention that as a rule I don't pay much attention to parenting advice. Thoughtful and prayerful introspection on your child is worth more than a thousand books. That said, it does have its place.

One of the things I've been most surprised by is the degree to which children respond to consistent parenting. The "why can't my children act like that"? thought which every parent thinks almost always has a simple answer: it hasn't been important enough to you to instill that behavior. Of course children will fight you when you tell them to do something they do not want to, but if you hold your ground you will be surprised at how quickly they get the idea.

This has an interesting corollary: your children are probably not misbehaving for the reasons you think they are. This will make a big difference in how you react to them, so it's important. It's really easy to take defiance personally, as an affront to your authority. But children just want to know where their lines are and they will keep pushing until they find out. Young children do not listen to what you say. They listen to what you do. Instead of being upset that they ignore you, just follow through on your words with action and wait for them to get the picture. It doesn't take very long.

Rarely raise your voice at your children. As a tool for teaching them to behave, it is mostly useless. Children, remember, do not listen to what you say. You can't change this, so you might as well accept it and move on. If you yell when your children disobey you, they learn that they do not have to obey you when you use a normal voice because you never actually punish them until after you start yelling. Children are very good at finding out just exactly how much you will let them get away with. Much better for both of you to just give the command in a normal voice, and follow through if they disobey.

Yelling also gives your children control over you. If you show them that they can alter your mood by acting in a certain way, you give them a power that they should never have. Children manipulate each other like this all the time (cf. the sibling's smug, satisfied smile), and it weakens your authority to submit to it.

One more thing. Your children almost always understand more than you give them credit for. This seems to be especially true for younger siblings, because we as parents want to cherish their youth. Shoot over their heads by asking them to think about things that are too advanced for them and do things they can't yet. They will surprise you, and the effort is good for them even when they fail.

Young children enter the world as sinners. As soon as they are old enough to know you want them to do something, they are old enough to not do it. Like St. Benedict says of Abbots, our job as parents is more like caring for the sick than exercising authority over the healthy. But with care and love we can allow our children's personalities to bloom under the careful constraints of moral instruction, which makes them more rather than less free.

Whisperings

I find arguments for the existence of God to be academically interesting and engaging, but I don't expect them to be very good at converting people to Christianity. Most are inductive and probabilistic, which means their force is largely dependent upon the subjective weight that an individual gives them. This weight is determined by the individual's worldview, and accepting Christianity induces a huge change on a worldview.

I think a better strategy is to confront a person with truths about human nature which every reflective person must acknowledge. Given these truths, which worldview offers the best explanation of them? And which worldview offers the best advice about what to do about them?

These are subjective questions, of course. But they are more immediate. More personal. Less cerebral. Christianity makes certain truth-claims about history and the nature of reality, and they are important. But at bottom it is a Way, not a Proposition. Commenting on Jesus' words in John 14:6 ("I am the way, the truth, and the life", Thomas à Kempis says "Without the Way there is no going, without the Truth there is no knowing, without the Life there is no living".

In Christianity's answers to the deepest questions of humanity (Who is well off? What does it mean to be good? What is the good life?) I hear whisperings, resonances, intonations. Something deep inside me responds "ah yes, only that can explain who I am, who I ought to be, and why I am not". Someone who does not hear the same whisperings is unlikely to convert. But you can challenge them to listen, and let the Holy Spirit take it from there.

Here are some observations that evoke those deep questions in me, and how Christianity whispers a response that my soul recognizes.

Consuming does not make us happy

Inside everyone is a voice that says "if I just had a little more money, enough for X and Y and Z, then I would be happy and content". But that voice is lying. This experiment has been done many many times, and it has never worked. If you're honest with yourself, you should be able to verify that the voice is never satisfied. It always wants "just a little more". Studies have shown that, above a certain income level necessary for basic needs, having more money does not make you happier. But even basic reflection should show you that this is the case.

Sexual freedom does not make us happy

You'd never know it from how the culture portrays it, but promiscuity and uncommital sex does not make you happy in any ultimate sense. This is also fairly well-confirmed. People that follow basic, conservative (Christian) sexual moral rules are just happier and more satisfied than those who don't. It is not even hard to see why. The fact that we are increasingly divorcing sex from commitment, at tremendous cost to ourselves, only shows that we are not very reflective and we trust what we see in movies more than our own experiences.

We do not do what we know is best for us

This one is strongest and, in a way, most shocking. Not only are we constantly pursuing courses of action which do not make us happy, but we know we are doing so and do it anyway. Furthermore, we choose not to pursue those things which we know do make us happy. Again, you should be able to confirm this easily by self-examination. Here are some examples to get you started:

• TV/YouTube/the Internet. Have you ever squandered an hour, or an evening, or several evenings, watching television you didn't even like, or YouTube videos you immediately forgot, or browsing internet sites you do not even consider that interesting? And have you ever thought afterward how you really should have been doing something else, which you actually prefer?
  
• New-Years resolutions. Everyone makes them. Everyone knows that keeping them would make him happier, more fulfilled, and a better person. Everyone breaks them. Swiftly.
  
• Conscience. Everyone has a conscience that gives them basic moral principles, and everyone violates it. Everyone knows they are flawed, everyone does things they know to be wrong.
  
• As an extreme example, there are many homeless persons who would rather stay homeless than give up their booze. I know of some. Surely it must be clear, even to themselves in moments of sober honesty, that this is wild foolishness. Is there a dark part of you that is almost that crazy?
  

Anyone reflective person concerned about living well should be deeply concerned about these features of human nature. Where did they come from, and how do we overcome them? Why do we have a longing to make ourselves happy by continually doing things that we know will never make us happy?

Surely there are several possible explanations, and you will have to evaluate their explanatory power for yourself. You could construct a story according to which this is all a product or byproduct of an evolutionary process of competition and survival. But this is the Christian explanation: We are sick - no, we are dead. The voice that cries out for more and is never satisfied, like an Ungoliant in our breast, is bearing witness to a real need - but it is a need we cannot satisfy unless we are reborn. It is a need that shows we are incomplete. We are not what we were intended to be.

What Christianity offers is, in part, a vision of how to be transformed. How to fill the empty place that your inner voice alerts you to by, paradoxically, nailing that voice to a cross. Because only once it is dead can it be satisfied.

That is what I hear, when I listen. What are your whisperings?

To Thomas Nathanael Moothart

Son,
Your mother and I take names seriously, and wanted to choose one for you that signified something important - a name that partly describes what we hope for you, but also one that is open enough for you to attach meaning to, and decide what it means for you to be a Thomas, a Nathanael, a Moothart. Names are funny like that - they both define us and are defined by us. Our culture has lost most of the importance attached to names, but you only need to turn to the Bible to see it - in Joshua, Isaiah, Abraham, Peter, Jesus.

Your are named primarily after the apostle Thomas and Philip's friend Nathanael. Both of them responded to Jesus with initially skeptical reactions, but (more importantly to your mother and I) both made great professions of faith when confronted by Him.

Nathanael's skepticism ("can anything good come out of Nazareth?") is overcome by Philip's invitation - "Come and see". And when he came and saw, he declared "Rabbi, you are the son of God! You are the kind of Israel!".

Thomas' skepticism of the resurrection ("unless I see...") is likewise overcome by Jesus, as he leaps ahead of the other disciples and declares Jesus to be not only Lord, but God. This confession hearkens all the way back to the prologue of John's gospel: Jesus is the Word, not only with God but also equal to God (1:1). And in the paradox of the trinity, Jesus who declares the unseen God to us (1:18) is himself God - the invisible Word made visible, touchable flesh.

You are also named after Thomas Aquinas. He lived during a time of real cultural, military, and intellectual challenge to Christianity from the Muslim world. Against the prominent Islamic scholars of the day, he argued that all truth is one, that two truths can't be at variance with each other. He also labored to place the newly-rediscovered works of Aristotle in a Christian context.

The third Thomas you are named after is my father. You have inherited his smile - use it wisely. With great power comes great responsibility. He's influenced who I am and how I parent in ways I don't know and am still discovering, but one of them is a desire to help you grow by not being overbearing and letting you make as many of your own decisions as possible. I want to give you the freedom to make mistakes on your own, to prayerfully decide how to grow into manhood without pressure from me to do or be anything specific to gain my approval. I want to provide guidance, advice, prayer, and help (and occasionally the rod - though less of that when you're older).

We don't know what kind of man you will become, but we are praying that in your journey you will confess the faith with the passion of the apostles, defend it with zeal, and face all of your labors with your grandpa's smile.

To Jonathan Phineas Moothart

Son,
Your mother and I took the task of naming you very seriously. We wanted to give you a strong name, a Biblical name, a name with meaning and purpose, and a name that wouldn’t be a source of excessive teasing in grade school. Your mother vetoed Hector for exactly that reason. At any rate, your middle name serves the same purpose, and more besides – more on that later.

You share your first name with two uncles and the Jonathan of the Bible. Jonathan is a strong name, and the Jonathan of the Bible exemplifies this. He was strong and true in his friendship to David. He was strong and brave in battle against the enemies of God’s people, going alone with his armor bearer to a Philistine garisson and igniting with God’s help such a panic that the battle was won for the Israelites that day.

You are called Phineas after the third High Priest of Israel - son of Eleazar, son of Aaron. When the people sinned by taking to themselves foreign women and foreign gods, God sent a plague among them in His anger. Phineas stopped it by taking up his spear and running it through a man who had done this publicly and the Mideanite woman he had taken. And God stayed the plague because of the zeal Phineas had shown for His glory.

In our world zeal and strength do not take such forms, of course. But warfare remains a helpful metaphor, in the New Testament and today, for the struggle between God’s people and spiritual evil.

Lastly, you are a Moothart. You are the son of Gabe, the son of Tom, the son of Harvey. I need hardly tell you who I am – my actions will say more than my words anyway. But I will say a little about what I feel your grandpa has passed on to me (although there is certainly more than I can list or recognize), and that is a sense of duty to and sacrifice for family. Grandpa sometimes worked a lot of overtime when I was growing up, and wasn’t home as much as I would have liked. But it was always clear to me that he was doing this for the family – so that Grandma could stay home with us, so that we could have nicer things, go to camp in the summer, and later go to a Christian school.

I once seriously considered a job offer which would have been challenging and fulfilling for me, but required long hours away from home. It doesn’t do me credit that what your Grandpa did for the family I wanted to do for myself. But the moment of clarity cam when I compared myself to him (and to you).

Neither Grandpa nor I ever really knew your Great Grandfather. He died when Grandpa was 4. I don’t know much about him – only snippets, really. He was a teacher. He joined the navy late in WWII, but the war ended before he saw combat. Great Grandma’s photo album shows him fixing up their first house, and beside pictures of her he had scrawled “my gal”. They had 4 children (Grandpa was the second) in their 6 years together.

I guess I’m saying this because I think it’s important for you to know where you come from, and who has gone before you. I do not in any way mean to be telling you who I expect you to become or place borders around what you can do. You’ll have to make those decisions and follow God’s call yourself. In fact, recently I was meditating on Jesus’ call to James and John, wondering how Zebedee must have felt to be left in his boat like that. But when God calls you, I hope that I can let you go with grace.

Vocation aside, however, I do hope for you to grow up a moral and righteous man. I already see in you passion, intensity, and, yes, a temper. It is my prayer that through your choices and helped by our parenting, you may learn to focus your passion, direct your anger against those things which God hates, and be used by Him – like the sword of Jonathan and the spear of Phineas.

Favorite Children's Books

My friend Ben has asked for my list of favorite children's books. Keep in mind that my oldest is 3, so these are mostly appropriate for young children. Luckily for you I have good taste, so all of the books on this list are worth picking up.

In no particular order, but progressing generally from younger to older children:

• The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Eric Carle
• Jamberry by Bruce Degen
  Colorful and fanciful, with a fun rhyme
  
• Carl's Afternoon in the Park (and the other books in the Carl series), Alexander Day
  Excellent illustrations, which tell the story well. No words.
• God Bless Me and Thank You, Dear God!, Helen Haidle
• But Not the Hippopotamus, Sandra Boynton
  I generally recommend everything by Sandra Boynton. Cute, simple words, clever and funny.
  
• Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!, Mo Willems
  Funny and very interactive.
  
• Llama llama Red Pajama, Anna Dewdney
• Frog and Toad are Friends, Arnold Lobel
  This is an early-reader book, with simple words and sentences. Unlike most books of this kind, however, the stories are actually good: funny, clever, endearing, and with likeable characters. Definitely worth reading to your toddler.
• Harold and the Purple Crayon, Crockett Johnson
  I think I like this one more than my kids do. They might need to be older to appreciate how clever it is.
  
• Rain, Peter Spier
  Emily and I have a lot of children's books, but the ones by Peter Spier have far and away the best illustrations. Rain is absolutely beautiful, and is told (like most of his books) entirely through pictures.
  
• Professor Wormbog in Search for the Zipperump-a-Zoo, Mercer Mayer
  Fun story with illustrations so packed that you notice something new every time you read it.
• Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, Virginia Lee Burton
  Who doesn't love this book?
  
• Curious George, Margaret and H.A. Rey
  The Curious George stories are fun and meandering. Definitely a favorite of Jonathan's.
• The Apostle's Creed, Illustrated by Vicki Pastore
  A great way to teach your children the foundations of the faith in an engaging way. Worked well for us as part of the bedtime routine.
• Thomas the Tank Engine, Rev. W. Awdry
  The Thomas stories are entertaining and teach good Christian virtues better than almost anything else on this list. Highly recommended. The original videos, narrated by none other than Ringo Starr and very close to the books, are also great.
• The Jesus Storybook Bible, Sally Lloyd-Jones
  I simply cannot praise this one highly enough. The tone reminds me a little of C.S. Lewis' in the Chronicles of Narnia. And, (also like the Chronicles of Narnia), some of the insights are so deep that I find myself learning new things and thinking about God's plan of salvation in new ways.