Theses On The Door: The Episcopal Church Of The United States, Part X (Conclusion)

[Today marks the end, at least for now, of my disagreement with The Episcopal Church of the United States. I am glad it is over; I am sure you are too. This series was mostly catharsis; I needed to get something off my heart -- and my head. If any of you found my catharsis helpful, I am glad. If you have not, I am still glad, because I am free of something I’ve held too long. That my visitor numbers dropped significantly during this period indicates either that summer is a typical low-point for bloggers, or that readers simply were not interested in the controversy. Perhaps my critique of The Episcopal Church has all been done before, by better minds in better words. Surely that is the case. But that fact would not have liberated me; I needed to do this. Thanks for the indulgence. Here ends this series, which began at this link. You should start there. Peace. BG.]

This series set out to do one thing. What it did not set out to do was to come to blows over the authority of Scripture or the ancient wonders of tradition as these play out within the Episcopal Church. There is clearly no zealous effort on my part to delve into the Bible, nor have I coursed through the Church Fathers or pored over the nuances of ancient liturgies. No, I have set out to show that the current leadership and vision of the church is irrational, given wholly to subjectivism and utterly fallacious reasoning; and if not fallacious reasoning, reasoning that is nonetheless slovenly, broken and even deceptive. And I have tried to show the irony of this, for the Episcopal Church believes itself to be singularly rational.

There is nothing rational in ordaining a gay, unmarried, cohabitating man to the episcopate; there is nothing rational about consecrating such a man to the bishopric because he is -- as was publicly declared -- a homosexual. There is nothing rational in the popular dismissal of biblical denouncements of homosexuality; nor is there anything rational in positing that homosexuality is permissible, even laudable, because it is genetic, natural, or “created by God.” There is nothing rational in arguing that good actions or good character merit some sort of honor, or indebt us to elevate a man we like, or find charming, helpful, or just plain brilliant. There is nothing rational in averring a love that is tolerant; there is nothing rational in removing from the list of sinners and outcasts “homosexuals”, only to place on the same list the “homophobic” and “conservative”. And there is nothing rational about defending some declaration, deed, or revolution as “a move of the Holy Spirit” or some similar act of God.

This series is all about reason. It is about thinking clearly. Even if there are moments of muddled thought found herein, it is my intent to destroy the muddle with greater clarity. I want reason to truly triumph. But I cannot say that about my many religious peers: they seem entirely content with the muddle that is the present church. What they’ve offered as apologies for Bishop Gene Robinson are simply so much rejectamenta.

If one were to read this series from start to finish I believe the reader could easily dismantle nearly any argument celebrating homosexuality in the church. For example, an argument I read recently suggested that Jesus was “curiously silent” about homosexuality, and yet may have mentioned it in His Sermon on the Mount when He said:

…anyone who says to his brother, 'Raca, [ An Aramaic term of contempt] ' is answerable to the Sanhedrin (Matthew 5:22 NIV)

You see, some exegetes wonder whether ‘Raca’ (or, allegedly, ‘Racha’), when transliterated into Greek, should be translated as some derogatory term, like ‘fairy’ or ‘effeminate’. For in the Greek there is the possibility that the word is feminine, that it refers to an effeminate male (related to ‘malakoi’). One critic even wondered why Matthew would have chosen to use the Aramaic term, since it is unambiguously NOT referring to gender. Rather, it is simply an insult about a person’s worth, that they are “empty”. That Matthew used the word is because it is most likely the very word Jesus used; our Lord most likely spoke Aramaic. But to some pro-gay exegetes, Jesus is not silent about homophobia, for in Matthew 5:22, He is denouncing it. (See this link, or this one, or even this.)

But the problem with this sort of thing is immediately evident. The pro-gay exegetes are always quick to point out that scripture cannot help us in sexual matters, since the writers did not have the psychological and sexual categories we moderns enjoy; the writers were in the dark, limited. Of course, if that’s the case, then why would we care what Jesus had to say in Matthew 5:22? Perhaps He, too, was in the dark –– limited, ancient, even prejudiced.

And that is the sort of thing already addressed in my discussion of “The Fallacy of Hermeneutical Arrogance” (dubbed so by me, I believe).

In October 2003, when I sat with V. Gene Robinson to discuss all these issues, he began his apologetic with this statement (I paraphrase):

You know the ancients believed that only men contributed to procreation; that females were simply vessels, contributing nothing. Everything came from the man. A woman was merely a conduit, a bridge. She added nothing.

I wonder: how many reasonable people believe this for one second? For Bishop Robinson’s apology is based on the assumption that whenever any ancient looked at a child, that person always had to say, “You know something? You look just like your father.” If Gene Robinson is correct, then no one ever said, “You know, you look just like your mother.” Of course, one reference, one simple phrase -- of how a child has his mother's eyes -- uncovered in ancient literature instantly decimates Mr. Bishop Robinson’s contention. But we don’t even need that evidence; we just need reason, and reason shows that it is impossible to believe that every child born in the ancient world looked like Dad.

In closing, I want to return to the consecration ceremonies of Bishop Robinson. Let’s look again at what was said there by Bishop Robinson’s predecessor, NH Bishop Douglas Theuner:

The argument (over Robinson’s consecration) [is] about control, about power, about who is in and who is out, about who is right and who is wrong…Because of who you are, Gene, you can stand for the unity of the church in a way that none of us can. Because of your presence, the episcopate will be more a symbol of unity than it ever has been.

Is the irony lost on anyone here? Is the episcopate more united than ever? Oh, wait. Bishop Theuner merely said that because of Gene Robinson, the episcopate will be "more a symbol of unity" than it ever has been. Not actually unified, merely a "symbol of unity". Surely that makes perfect sense three years later, for the episcopate is hardly united in fact (but in symbol it is undoubtedly unified, and symbols are everything). And is it not the case that it was power and control that placed Gene Robinson in his bishop’s seat? Is not the leadership of the Episcopal Church all about power, about decreeing who is right, who is wrong? Was not Theuner in that moment of unity pronouncing disunity, a disunion from those who do not have his sense of who is right, and who is in?

It is important to note here that I like Gene Robinson. He is a kind and able man. He is a skilled facilitator. He is gentle. But these were not the reasons he was consecrated, as the comments of Bishop Theuner show. All others candidates for the bishopric of New Hampshire had those sorts of qualities. Nay, Gene Robinson was chosen as a symbol of God’s new deal, of His liberally liberating activity in the world.

Before Gene Robinson ever sat in the Bishop’s Seat (all Episcopal churches have one) in my parish church, I sat in that chair. I sat in it the night before he would come and preach to All Saints’, the first parish he visited after his consecration. And as I sat in that chair, I prayed. I prayed for him, that his heart would be softened; that he would know the hope and truth to which he was called; that he would know the love of God, and that the eyes of his heart would be enlightened. And I prayed that if he did not serve God in truth and love, that his episcopacy would fail. Perhaps my prayers were amiss. We shall see. Lord, have mercy.

The Bishop’s Seat at All Saints’ is a very large, very high chair. Gene Robinson’s feet do not reach the floor; it is an awkward seat. My understanding is that the seat was purposely crafted for the sole purpose of invoking humility; that the bishop who sat thereon would feel rather small, knowing, hopefully, that the office of bishop is much greater and larger than the man; and that the man who sits in that seat should understand that he is pastor to a church much larger, much more universal, than the vision of just one little man, even a man on the margins.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2006/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.

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