In Focus

Although I will be proud to attend General Convention in Minneapolis this month as a deputy from the Episcopal Diocese of New York, it’s not as if I didn’t have second thoughts. I’m told that by the fifth day or so, the Episcopal Church gathered in convention can make you feel like you’re stuck in an endless family reunion with a lot of opinionated relatives — or a big church coffee hour with a bit of a mean streak. Everybody seems to know everybody else, mostly too well, and ideology (both right-wing and left-wing) too often substitutes for serious theological reflection — odium theologicum run amok.

Of course, this is something of a caricature. Like me, more than 35% of convention deputies will be new to this gathering. They will join a body that has deep historic roots in this country and has done us all much good. It is one of the largest and oldest sitting legislative bodies in America, bringing together faithful Episcopalians of all ages and persuasions. For two weeks, whatever our beliefs or whatever our prejudices — whether about issues of war and peace, race, sexuality, biblical authority, or what color vestments to wear in Lent — we will live and pray and work together in very close quarters, and very much in the public gaze (at least the gaze of those members of the public who are interested, always a smaller number than church people like to think). And most of the time, the necessity to listen to each other at Convention and just to put up with what divides us is as good an achievement as any.

But for many deputies, this year feels different from most. The terrorist attacks on New York and Washington, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the color-coded alerts, the crazy-quilt of airport security measures, the sour economy, an increased intolerance of political dissent — the country seems at once materially insecure and emotionally self-defensive. And so does the Episcopal Church. Like the past few General Conventions, this one will reveal some of the deep rifts in our common life, particularly around the questions of sexuality and Biblical authority. Both an American diocese and the Diocese of Oxford in England have selected openly gay priests as bishops (although the candidate in the diocese of Oxford has withdrawn). A diocese in British Columbia, Canada, has authorized the blessing of same-sex unions. The Canadian Parliament has given legal standing to life-long unions between gay and lesbian people equal to the legal standing of marriage. The U.S. Supreme Court has reversed the notorious Bowers decision by asserting a constitutional right to personal privacy and personal liberty so broad as to take one’s breath away. It is quite likely that our own General Convention will approve a pastoral liturgy celebrating rites of union between people of the same sex and will affirm Canon Robinson’s election in New Hampshire.

For conservatives in the Church, this must feel like a juggernaut. There have been threats of schism, no doubt including panicked calls to the Church Pension Fund from clergy contemplating secession. People are weighing their options. Several bishops have formed a coalition to stop the Canadian thing from happening here, declaring their solidarity with several dioceses on the continent of Africa, and asserting, against all historical evidence, that Lambeth resolutions bind the Episcopal Church as tightly as a papal fiat.

My conviction, though, is that this is less a juggernaut than a watershed. Judging from history, any schism will not be as deep or as permanent as some fear (and some hope), painful as it may feel on both sides. The point is not to change the minds of fellow Anglicans on sexual behavior, one way or the other, or for that matter to force a uniform reading of the Bible, which almost invariably provides a cover for both sides. The point is to act with integrity and charity, shun hypocrisy and remember what (or rather, Who) draws us together in the first place.

The center will hold, as it has always held. As usual in matters sexual, individuals in parishes and dioceses are more forthright than the larger church in handling these matters, and the culture even more so. Legislating moral behavior is a dangerous and ultimately futile game, whether it’s the Texas legislature at work or the Lambeth Conference. One need only think about how the average Catholic regards the papal edict on birth control, or how Anglicans in Britain regard the prohibition on remarriage after divorce. Rites of union, including marriage between men and women, have changed their look and purpose several times in the history of Christian life, and will no doubt change again. The Church will adjust.

In this context, the more pertinent question for Convention is not “Who does what sexually with whom,” but “What are we really about as a church?” Worship, formation, pastoral care, outreach, hospitality, witness for justice, commitment to peacemaking and reconciliation, both personal and global — these are the hallmarks of our life together, no matter whom we marry or don’t marry, no matter what social practices we officially bless or how. If our various churches — right-wing or left-wing, liberal or conservative, catholic or evangelical — can embrace this kind of life together in Jesus’ name, well, sex might just take care of itself.

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