On the Unity of the Church: Common Prayer, Not Common Belief
We talk a lot these days about how divided the country has become, but when I look back on other periods of American and European history, I often find myself marveling at how infrequently peace and justice have been the norm. I’ve particularly been thinking lately of the bitter divisions that were the backdrop for the early years of the Anglican Church.
Because King Henry VIII’s split with Rome in 1549 was an act of political defiance rather than theological objection (he wanted to be able to divorce, and to have oversight of the wealth owned by the Church in his realm), the English Reformation took on a very different character than those unfolding on the continent. The religious “innovations” under Henry were rather tame: The Book of Common Prayer was published in 1549, but other than being in English rather than Latin it contained relatively few changes from the existing Roman Missal. It wasn’t until his son, Edward, assumed the throne that a more distinctly Protestant English Church emerged. Under both kings, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer worked tirelessly to articulate the principles of a “true and lively faith” independent of Roman oversight, and his poetic language still rings through our liturgy today, as do the statements of belief he articulated in the 39 Articles.
After Edward, though, came Mary, who - Catholic herself - pivoted the country sharply back to Catholicism. In the span of a few short years, clergy and churchgoers found themselves ping-ponging quite dramatically between affiliations and allegiances, divergent modes of prayer and various practices of piety. This was profoundly disorienting and destabilizing, and costly in every sense imaginable for local communities trying to keep up with the demands of the crown. Both clergy and lay people, of course, had their own preferences and beliefs, and when the Church and state leaned more Catholic or more Protestant, it didn’t only impact what services looked like on Sunday mornings - it affected all the ministries of the Church; who was allowed to participate in what; which beliefs and perspectives could be said publicly without rebuke or even arrest; how clergy were paid, and whether or not their marriages were authorized. People on both sides of the divide were fighting, and dying, for their cause. It was madness.
When Queen Elizabeth I assumed the throne in 1558, her people had been exhausted by the prior nine years of turmoil. She famously announced the Elizabethan Settlement, declaring that people could choose to be either Catholic or Protestant as they liked, but whatever they believed, they were to come to Church and pray alongside one another. “I have no desire to make windows into men's souls,” she said, giving individuals permission to disagree on many matters of piety, doctrine, and dogma, while continuing to worship together. Many historians contend that, without a compromise of this sort, the country would have torn itself apart.
As a result, in the Episcopal Church, which emerged out of the Church of England following the American revolution, we often say that we are united not by common belief but by common prayer. That is, unlike “covenantal churches” - such as many Evangelical, Nondenominational, and Fundamentalist ones - we do not require members joining our Church to sign a statement of beliefs containing countless bullet points summarizing specific theological assertions. While the Catholic Church is not a “covenantal” one but “creedal,” like us, they take a more top-down approach to doctrine and dogma, with a general expectation that members will conform themselves in matters of theology and piety to those authorized by the Church. By contrast, we Episcopalians actually expect, and even celebrate, that those worshiping in our parishes hold many and varied beliefs, even about matters essential to Christian faith and practice, such as what happens to the bread and wine during communion or the meaning of the cross.
We also expect and celebrate that members hold many and varied social, cultural, and political values. Because it is not common belief but common prayer that binds us together, a Church like our own can be a fruitful place for us to learn, serve, and grow alongside others of different opinions. In this sense, belonging in the Episcopal Church is more akin to belonging to a family: we don’t expect that we’ll agree with everyone in our family all the time about every issue, but whether or not we agree, we still belong. What makes us a Church, then, is not simply what we think but how we live, what we practice, how we pray, and our commitment to uphold one another as we move through this life.
There are limits, of course, to the umbrella of beliefs that one would likely find in an Episcopal Church. Someone who doesn’t actually believe in God or Jesus, or compassion and justice as virtues, might still want to attend worship and would be most welcome to do so, but they would not be surprised to hear a lot about God, Jesus, compassion and justice in our prayers and sermons, and if they were - or were even distressed by such talk - they would need to make a decision for themselves about whether or not this was the right worship space for them. Similarly, though the Church is a religious body, we do and always have taken stances on social issues that intersect and even overlap with local, state, and political issues. Because our lives are not lived in neat and tidy silos, the issues cannot always be easily untangled. There are numerous examples of this. Our General Convention passed a resolution in 1952 saying Episcopalians should “consistently oppose and combat discrimination based on color or race in every form, both within the church and without,” and has in the decades since passed many other resolutions related to racial justice, voting rights, and even the topic of reparations. Because we believe all human life to be sacred, we have been opposed to the death penalty since 1958. We have, in recent years, affirmed and reaffirmed our commitment to the full inclusion of our LGBTQ+ siblings, including their right to ordination if so called and to the blessing of the Church in marriage. Our Church has also, since 1967, maintained it’s “unequivocal opposition to any legislation on the part of the national or state governments which would abridge or deny the right of individuals to reach informed decisions [about the termination of pregnancy] and to act upon them.” A summary of the Church’s resolutions on abortion can be found here. It is for this reason that our Presiding Bishop, and many other Bishops and leaders across the country, issued statements of lament in the wake of the overturning of Roe v. Wade last Friday.
I’m keenly aware that the political discourses in our wider culture and communities have only become more and more divided and divisive in recent years, and that finding ways to talk about many social issues - particularly issues about which we do not agree - has only become more challenging. The overturning of Roe v. Wade has highlighted the diversity of perspectives that people in our communities, church, and workspaces hold, both theological and ideological, that inform their perspective on women’s rights to comprehensive reproductive health care on the one hand, and on the other our society’s moral obligations to a fertilized egg, embryo, or fetus, all the way through it’s potential development into a child.
Access to abortion is a complex issue and Christian perspectives on it, even within our tradition, do not generally fit neatly into the categories of “pro-life” and “pro-choice.” The last time members of our parish had an open conversation about abortion was three years ago when it was topic in a series of “Living Room Conversations” held during the 9:00 a.m. Adult Formation hour between services. At that gathering, a number of perspectives on both the rights of women and the ethics of abortion were voiced, respectfully and constructively, the vast majority of which fell within the national Churches stated position on the matter. Given the historic nature of the case, its longevity, and the fact that many people have now lived all or most of their lives with this as settled law, many members at Christ Church and in our wider community are experiencing profound disorientation and grief in the wake of the ruling.
Irrespective of the details of the case, it is important to note that, while the Supreme Court has overturned precedent before, the nature of this decision is unique and remarkable. A notable example of another reconsidered precedent would be Plessy v. Ferguson, the historical 1896 case that justified “separate but equal” access to education for children of different races, which was overturned in 1954 by Brown v. Board of education, which made racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional. Every time the Supreme Court has overturned precedent before in matters where constitutional rights for American citizens were being considered, it was always in order to expand those rights. Dobbs marks the first time the court has acted to actually take away what had been considered fundamental rights for a significant proportion of our population (half, in this case).
In light of all of this, I find myself thinking once again about how it is that we belong to one another as a church. It seems that, while a diversity of perspectives can certainly be honored, at question for many in this conversation is the full humanity of those who can become pregnant, echoed in the language of our faith by the baptismal promise to “respect the dignity of every human being.” When such a foundational matter is on the table, we find ourselves bumping up against the edges of our comfort zones and our sense of unity. And so, when such a foundational matter is on the table, we are also reminded of our profound need for God’s guidance and presence, not only in each of our lives but in the life of our Church.
I am actively reflecting on what, in light of this historic and complex moment, our most appropriate responses as a parish might be, and very much welcome your prayers and perspectives in the time. Currently, I am planning to hold a few forums in August to discuss how it is that we, as Episcopalians, take ethical positions on questions of personal morality and social justice. What sources do we turn to? What voices do we trust? What considerations do we weigh? I think it might be specifically fruitful in one of those sessions to look at the content of the Church’s resolutions related to abortion, but the broader conversation would not need to be limited to this one issue. We may also host a space for those who are really struggling in the wake of the ruling to gather in prayer and lament. I would very much welcome the thoughts and suggestions of our members, and invite you to share any thoughts or questions with me. Feel free to call the office or email me, either to schedule an appointment or share your perspectives.
My life has been so richly blessed by the people of this parish, and I know that yours have as well. My life has also been richly blessed by the voice and wisdom of people in my life, both here at Christ Church and beyond, with whom I do not see eye to eye on even really foundational matters (I suppose, as an Episcopal priest, I couldn’t be happily married to a Muslim if that were not the case). I trust the Holy Spirit entirely to guide our parish through the time ahead; I trust us to care for one another with fierce kindness and courageous honesty; and I trust us all to be willing to listen, to learn, and to grow, in this as in all things. I look forward to learning from each of you as we walk into God’s preferred and promised future for our parish family.
with love, Claire +