Theses On The Door: Statements Regarding The Episcopal Church Of The United States, Part 1

Prologue: A little about me

For the past three years or so I have been reticent regarding my disillusionment with the Episcopal Church of the United States (ECUSA). I have been reticent for good reason: the Church abandoned me, my family, and my conservative peers. I do not mean by this that my rector or my parish abandoned us, though to some degree many of our brothers and sisters at All Saints' did in fact let us leave with nary a word. What I am pointing to is the abandonment of all that is dear to this family by the liberalizers -- or are they liberators? -- of the ECUSA, particularly those here in New England, and specifically those in New Hampshire. And please note that this writer has been nearly silent about homosexuality in his essays at Contratimes, also for good reason: the personal impact of my very public stance against the consecration of V. Gene Robinson came at great personal cost to me. In fact, I would argue that the several letters written against me in the local papers were more hate-filled than any letter ever published (locally) opposing Mr. Robinson's consecration as the first openly-gay bishop in the ECUSA and the worldwide Anglican Communion. In short, my silence here, and elsewhere, has to do with pain. But enough of that for the moment. To quote someone else (we'll talk about this later), I shall "spare [you] the details and get to the substance of the matter."

What follows (beginning tomorrow) is an essay I wrote in August of 2003 in the aftermath of V. Gene Robinson's nomination to serve as Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire. I wrote it during that year's General Convention (when Mr. Robinson's nomination was approved). I sent the essay out as an email; one recipient forwarded it to a conservative Anglican website. There it received some attention. I shall replay it here because it speaks, in general, to my initial problem with the ECUSA's consideration (at the time) of the viability of Mr. Robinson's appointment. But the essay, which I will publish in parts, speaks to something very direct, even essential, to the whole matter; it is that toward which I am ultimately moving in the totality of this series, which may consist of more than a few posts.

You see, in the first days of October 2003, I met, face to face, man to man, with V. Gene Robinson for a private 90-minute conversation over coffee and cake at Twelve Pine, the rather tony market in Peterborough, NH. We sat in the northeast corner of that fine café; there we had what I've described as an "elegant dispute", a "genteel disagreement". I listened to him, intently; he listened to me. Our conversation was seasoned with grace, empathy. We walked away gentlemen, though I believe, in the closing minutes, that Mr. Robinson felt he had wasted his time.

Why Mr. Robinson should have met with me is easy: I called him. My rector at the time was friends with Mr. Robinson; and I had known Mr. Robinson's ex-wife (his wife and I worked together -- parttime -- at a local ski area). Moreover, I was involved in my parish: I was junior warden and a vestry member; a lay eucharistic minister, a tenor soloist in the choir, a lector and usher, a book group leader; and member of the Christian Education and Buildings and Grounds committees. Though Mr. Robinson and I had met before, always in group settings, we had never had a direct discussion about homosexuality and the Christian faith.

Not long after I would resign my positions at All Saints', and only days after my conversation with Mr. Robinson, I would join a group protesting his consecration. I joined forces with the more conservative brothers and sisters in the ECUSA; I was called by the Chicago Tribune for an interview (I refused); I spoke in public against the course the ECUSA was taking. Finally, on November 2, 2003, I entered the Whittemore Center Arena at the University of New Hampshire -- where Mr. Robinson would be consecrated that very day -- with a contingent of solemn protestors. Leading our little group was Bishop Suffragan David Bena of Albany, NY. Needless to say, as I entered that arena, and as I stood for the grand procession (with myriad marching priests festooned with stoles of the gay pride flag), tears copiously flowed down my cheeks: I was nearly inconsolable as I watched my rector and deacon pass in front of me; and when Brian, a gay priest I know, passed me moments later. The whole assembly, save a few of us, was singing about God's wonders. Then, at the appropriate time in the liturgy, my small contingent (I remained at my seat) stood in the center of the arena while two letters were read to the thousands gathered, one of which was by Father Bena, another by a young woman from New Hampshire. The presiding bishop acknowledged the remarks; we all, quietly, slipped from our places in the arena and left in solemn protest. My weary feet carried me passed members of my own parish.

One irony to the whole process was that as we left that consecration, we could not help but pass the gauntlet of protestors on each side of us; those on the left were pro-gay ordination (mostly college kids who were hardly Episcopalians), and those on the right, who were the vile bunch from Fred Phelps' heinous church (sorry), the "God hates fags" reprobates. Of course, the media presence was huge. But the irony is that the pro-gay folks, confused by the sudden media rush of cameras in our faces, began to applaud us, thinking we had just completed the consecration. They did not know what we had just done, or didn't do; nor did they know that from there we all were to attend a "protest" Eucharist, of sorts, where I would serve, with others, as a lay eucharistic minister under Father William L. Murdoch (his brother-in-law is my closest friend).

It was the last time I served the cup of our Lord.

***

I realize now that much of my reticence was due to expectations: I expected that the ECUSA would see the error of its ways; and that the Anglican Communion would come rescue those of us ousted by the spirit of Unitarian-Universalism coursing through America. But I see now that the ECUSA is recalcitrant and that the Anglican Communion can do little to help. The latest General Convention of the ECUSA has confirmed my fears. I am confident there is now no turning back.

Let me return to my meeting with Mr. Robinson and share with you one thing he said to me. I had spoken to him of my thoughts about his consecration; I spoke at length about the sacraments of marriage and priesthood; about the theology of the human body and the order of creation. I know that my remarks, which served as a rebuttal to his own defense, were received by him with surprise: he had never heard the arguments before. That is why his only reply to my challenge was this: "I don't know anybody who is arguing that way."

What begins tomorrow is only the preamble to my argument against Mr. Robinson's bishopric. There is much more to say than what follows. But it strikes to the heart of what is now the Episcopal Problem: the Church has lost its authority. For Episcopalians, Scripture, Tradition and Reason comprise the rule of spiritual discernment and authority: what is codified in Holy Writ, what the Church has taught through the ages, and the sweet reasonableness of God's revelation, combine to inform believers the precise nature of God, of Christ, of Christian living and charity. Alas, this Grand Triumvirate lies in fragments at the feet of V. Gene Robinson. It was not smashed by him; it was smashed by many if not all of us: by those who loathe the Grand Triumvirate -- the liberalizers enamored of their own gnosticism -- and by those of us -- fearful, tired, cowardly, self-doubting or lazy -- who let them smash it. Mr. Robinson, on the eve of his consecration, stated rather boldly that his consecration would not result in the collapsing of the Church's roof. What he did not realize was that the roof collapsed before he was even nominated bishop. And if that is not true, surely Mr. Robinson sees that the roof is collapsing right now.

Let me formally begin this series by posting my letter of resignation that I submitted to All Saints' Church, Peterborough, NH on September 29, 2003. It sets the tone for all that is to follow. Please note that at the time the All Saints' vestry was deep in the process of calling a new rector. We stood on the threshold of receiving a list of nominees from the Search Committee, and we had been given diocesan guidelines regarding the calling process.

Peace.

***

Letter of Resignation

To the All Saints’ Parish Senior Warden, Vestry and Interim Priest,

Please accept this letter announcing my resignation as Junior Warden effective immediately. It is submitted only after much thought and consideration. I pray that you receive this resignation as it is intended: a gracious and respectful withdrawal from my responsibilities and duties.

My reasons for resigning are complex. Some have to do with increased domestic responsibilities, particularly related to my elderly mother. But the primary reason has to do with (of course) the controversial election of our Bishop-elect co-adjutor. I will spare you the details.

As I sat on Vestry last week, I realized that there was no possible way I could, in good conscience, support the calling of a rector who was either gay/lesbian, or supportive of a gay/lesbian episcopate. Since there is no longer any effective room for a conservative voice in the New Hampshire diocese on this matter, and since there will be no conservative candidates for All Saints’ rector nominated by the Search Committee (I infer this from the philosophical stance of our diocese), it would not only be divisive of me to sit on Vestry, it would be wasteful. Moreover, I knew, after listening to Ms. Fairman, that I could not honestly reach ‘consensus’ with the Vestry on the matter of a rector. (I realize that other Vestry members might oppose any candidate, but I can only speak for myself.)

Two relevant quotes challenge, even haunt me (forgive the look of pedanticism):

‘Tocqueville shows how a democratic regime causes a particular intellectual bent which, if not actively corrected, distorts the mind’s vision. ... ¶The great democratic danger, according to Tocqueville, is enslavement to public opinion.’ [emphasis added] - The late Allen Bloom, Professor in the Committee on Social Thought, University of Chicago

‘It will never be known what acts of cowardice have been motivated by the fear of not looking sufficiently progressive.’ - French writer Charles Péguy

I am challenged because I find these statements to be true. True not only in my life, but in the lives of others I know as well. And they are particularly true in the case of the election of our future bishop. Democracy (and the fear of not looking advanced) can be a dangerous thing, especially in the Church. Both have led to the devolution of Episcopalianism.

Episcopalianism is an essentially sacramental faith. It is evident in its liturgy, and its heirarchy. Everything in the All Saints’ church proper is in some way sacramental; as is everything that is performed therein. No doubt some things, like baptism or Eucharist, are sacraments which portend salvation from alienation, sin, and death. But others, like the shape of the building, the placement of the altar, the apposition of lectern and pulpit; the vestments, candles, and every action related to worship and consecration, are also sacraments, though of lesser degree. If how one offers bread and wine; if how one bows at the passing of the crucifer during procession; if how one extinguishes candles after benediction; if each of these matters sacramentally, how is it that sacramentalism stops at genitalia, at our sexuality, at our maleness and femaleness? This question pesters me to distraction during worship.

There is a passage in the Koran where God asks, ‘Do you think I created heaven and earth in jest?’ A Christian amendment might read, ‘Do you think I created male and female in jest?’ What a question. For Christianity has always said that male and female mean something; that they are each parts of a blessed sacrament, comprising the very image of God. How one uses one’s sexuality, then, also matters, and bodies mustn’t be used or defined in any old way (no matter how progressive). If the Church cares about the very words of consecrating the bread and wine, how is it that the Church is carefree about the sacramental aspects of sexuality? Is not the body that receives the Eucharist of more value (in God’s eyes), and more sacramental, than the bread and wine such a body receives?

I believe the democratization of truth is ruining the Episcopal Church, gutting it of its sacramentalism. Mr. Robinson’s telling remark that he doesn’t want to be ‘the gay bishop, but the bishop,’ highlights the division or separation of form and substance in our Church. For if Mr. Robinson’s homosexuality is substantively essential to who he is, as has been argued, then how is it that he can leave that aspect of himself outside the Church? He does so only because he has desacramentalized his sexuality, where it has no real relevance to his ministry as bishop. Even a priest I know has recognized this, and has told Mr. Robinson that he as bishop can ‘never call homosexual unions a sacrament.’ The national Church apparently has also recognized this in its decision not to call gay unions ‘marriages.’ But if gay unions are not sacramental, then what can they be in a sacramental Church?

This is just a small part of my polemic against the Episcopal Church. And as I have said many times elsewhere, I have not heard or read one valid argument supporting homosexuality, or justifying homosexuality among clergy. Trust me when I say I’ve studied this issue exhaustively. That doesn’t make me an authority; it only means I am open to learning about the issues at hand.

Hence, my convictions lead me to remove myself from a position of leadership at All Saints’. That the ‘Hot Button Questions’ segment in the diocese’s Search Process handbook (distributed to Vestry last week) does not include one question about homosexuality and yet includes queries regarding a female priesthood and abortion (two done deals), indicates that discussion in the diocese about homosexuality has not only stopped, it never even started. Moreover, that people are leaving the Church over this issue without any meaningful, diocese’s-led dialogue reveals the shallowness of our time. Those who leave are mere apostates of popular opinion, it seems. In short, I find I am just too old-fashioned for the Episcopal Church.

The most difficult thing for me in all of this: I like Gene Robinson, and yet I disagree with him profoundly.

It has been a pleasure and honor to work with the Senior Warden, the Vestry and the Interim. You are a lovely, talented group of people. (I have no issue with any of you.) I wish you all the best and I thank you for your kindness and support over the past year. I have tried to serve well, though I know that one hope of my term of service was that I would effectively build bridges between the older demographic of our parish and the younger, bringing more middle-aged folks into service. At this I have failed, largely, I think, because of my traditionalism: I’m an antique among younger parishioners.

It is my deepest hope that each of you has sensed from me, at some time, love, respect and encouragement. I know I have felt such from you. All Saints’ is a blessed place, and I am blessed by you all. Peace to you.

With regret,

Bill Gnade
29 Sept 03

Part II of this series begins here.

©Bill Gnade 2006/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.
Technorati tags: Episcopal Church, Anglican Communion, ECUSA, Gay Rights, Homosexuality, Identity Politics, sacraments, sacramentalism, marriage, consecration, Gene Robinson, Gay Bishop,