O Christ the Same, Through All Our Story's Pages

Timothy Dudley-Smith is arguably best known for his two volume biography of John Stott, but this hymn - which we sang yesterday at St. Matthew's for Remembrance Sunday - struck a chord.

O Christ the same, through all our story's pages,
our loves and hopes, our failures and our fears;
eternal Lord, the King of all the ages,
unchanging still, amid the passing years:
O living Word, the source of all creation;
who spread the skies, and set the stars ablaze;
O Christ the same, who wrought our whole salvation,
we bring our thanks for all our yesterdays.

O Christ the same, the friend of sinners, sharing
our inmost thoughts, the secrets none can hide,
still as of old upon your body bearing
the marks of love, in triumph glorified:
O Son of Man, who stooped for us from heaven,
O Prince of life, in all your saving power,
O Christ the same, to whom our hearts are given,
we bring our thanks for this the present hour.

O Christ the same, secure within whose keeping
our lives and loves, our days and years remain,
our work and rest, our waking and our sleeping,
our calm and storm, our pleasure and our pain:
O Lord of love, for all our joys and sorrows,
for all our hopes, when earth shall fade and flee,
O Christ the same, beyond our brief tomorrows,
we bring our thanks for all that is to be.

Timothy Dudley-Smith (1926)

The Church of the Incarnation, Pittsburgh

Well our friends at Pittsburgh's Church of the Incarnation are up and running, having been been received at the 2012 diocesan convention as a Mission Fellowship-in-Formation. They even have a nice new website. If you're looking for something a little different from standard ACNA fare, this may be one to check out.

May they continue to prosper!

Believing in the Face of Doubt

This is a most unlikely sentiment from a Fabian like Edith Nesbit, but it's remarkably apt (and I never noticed it when I first read The Railway Children).

Don't you think it's rather nice to think that we're in a book that God's writing? If I were writing the book, I might make mistakes. But God knows how to make the story end just right - in the way that's best for us." "Do you really believe that Mother?" Peter asked quietly. "Yes," she said, "I do believe it - almost always - except when I'm so sad that I can't believe anything. But even when I can't believe it, I know it's true - and I try to believe. You don't know how I try, Peter."

Newman, Manning and the Anglican Dilemma

From Owen Chadwick's magisterial The Victorian Church Vol. 1 (1966), 300.

Manning and Newman were contrasting types and leaders of Anglicans attracted towards Rome. Newman was a divine, Manning a churchman. Newman looked for theological truth and found it in that church which, he came to believe, represented with least unfaithfulness the doctrine and ethos of the first Christian centuries. Manning knew that the church possessed the truth, but the English establishment allowed the state to adulterate the possession. Newman left the Church of England because it spoke to his conscience with stammering lips. Manning left the Church of England because it let a non-Christian state within its borders and surrendered its guardianship of truth to state officers. Newman left the Anglicans because they were Protestants, Manning because they were established.    

The Catholic Laity in an Era of Turmoil

Together with my co-editors, Mary Beth Fraser Connolly and Christopher Denny, I am pleased to announce that Fordham University Press will be publishing our Empowering the People of God: Catholic Action before and after Vatican II. Composed of eleven essays dealing with a wide range of topics ranging from the Catholic Club of New York City and postwar Italian-American Catholic Action to the Extension Lay Volunteers and the National Council of Catholic Women, our volume has already received very positive feedback from the readers assigned by Fordham.

A panel discussion by some of our contributors is scheduled for next year's American Catholic History Association meeting:

Outgrowing Catholic Action? Transforming the Parochial Identity of American Lay Apostolates in the Vatican II Generation

Sunday, January 6, 2013: 11:00 AM-1:00 PM
New Orleans Marriott, Preservation Hall, Studio 1

Chair: 

Patrick Hayes, Redemptorist Archives of the Baltimore Province, Brooklyn, New York

Papers:
 

John Courtney Murray’s Justification for American Lay Catholic Movements
Christopher Denny, Saint John's University

Azzione Cattolica in an American Setting: The Society of Saint Charles-Scalabrinians and Catholic Action
Mary Elizabeth Brown, Marymount Manhattan College

Relevant Transformations: The Young Women of the Extension Lay Volunteers, 1961–71
Elizabeth Duclos-Orsello, Salem State University

Reaching Out to the People of God: The Implications of Renewal for the Sisters of Mercy in Parochial Education
Mary Beth Fraser Connolly, Valparaiso University

Comment: 

Leslie W. Tentler, Catholic University of America 

A Day in York

As one born in the north of England, I blush to admit that I have never visited the see city of the northern Province of the Church of England. Since it so happens that General Synod was meeting here this weekend and two of my collaborators - Kevin Ward and Mark Chapman - on a forthcoming study of the Kikuyu Conference of 1913 (in its day an affair whose ecclesiogical implications looked set to be as far reaching as the election of Gene Robinson in 2003) were to be in town, Jennifer and I decided to meet up with them.
  

Here's a view from the city walls - champion sight, as any good Yorkshireman would exclaim.

Approaching Yorkminster Cathedral. A nice day (no rain) meant that hordes of tourists were about.

The west doors of the Cathedral. We arrived too late for morning service but returned for choral evensong, which celebrated the 800th anniversary of the awarding of a city charter by King John (three years later that unfortunate monarch had more pressing concerns at Runnymede, so perhaps it was as well that the burghers of York got to him when they did).

Well there's a surprise; a soon-to-be ex-Archbishop of Canterbury and one of his possible successors.

 
In the shadow of Archbishop Sentamu's cathedra, St Michael Le Belfrey upholds the banner of Evangelicalism. 

On a lighter note, this band made a joyful noise as we took a stroll through the town in the early afternoon.

Photographs: Jennifer Bonner (who wisely persuaded me - against my better judgment - that it was time we acquired a digital camera).

Coming Home? Or Not.

Greetings on a cloudy Wednesday from the City of Sheffield, where we are now in our second week of residence. Until today the weather has been gorgeous (a little too hot for me, but Jennifer was loving it). The city has some curious similarities with Pittsburgh - a now departed steel industry that has given way to various high tech enterprises (of which Jennifer's employer is one), a gritty working-class culture, friendly and helpful inhabitants - but it is obviously not identical. For one thing, there is a tram system that - unlike Pittsburgh's T - actually serves most of the city neighborhoods. If all goes well, come Friday we will have a rented house in Norfolk Park, about fifteen minutes from the railway station and the tram and about twenty-five minutes from Jennifer's workplace. 

On Pentecost we worshiped at the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, a handsome pro-cathedral with an excellent choir and a sizable staff. I met on Monday with a worthy Canon to discuss where I might be of most use (since Bishop Steven had suggested we worship there until we had a residence) and got the distinct impression he was a little worried lest my ACNA fundamentalism disturb the present modus vivendi! Interestingly, as far as he was concerned, ACNA was no longer part of the Anglican Communion, but beyond pointing out why they consider themselves so to be, I didn't belabor the point. He did observe that most churches in Sheffield - whether Evangelical, Catholic or Liberal - had a fairly clear identity, except for the Cathedral itself, which strove to uphold a more generic via media. I suspect that we may go and at least try out St. Matthew's, Carver Street, which is currently under one of the flying bishops. It will be a change to get some genuinely catholic liturgy again.

Doubtless there will be more posted here once we get settled. It's very strange to be back in the UK after twenty years, as strange for me as it is for Jennifer. There must be more of the Ishmaelite in me than I imagined.

The Anglican Covenant and the Church of England

Modern Church has kindly provided a comprehensive listing of how the diocesan synods voted on the Anglican Covenant. Dioceses in red opposed the Covenant, Dioceses in blue supported it, and Dioceses in yellow were divided.



Some preliminary conclusions on the above.

1. The English episcopate did its best to support the Archbishop of Canterbury. Of the forty-one dioceses listed, only four (Derby, Lincoln, Liverpool and Bath and Wells) saw the episcopal bench fully arrayed against the Covenant, while another eight reported a divided house. In three dioceses (Worcester, Rochester and St. Albans), bishops promoting the Covenant faced off against strong opposition among both the clergy and the laity.

2. The Province of York has shown itself much more disposed to support the Covenant than the Province of Canterbury. In the former, eight dioceses have voted in favor and only four against (two others were divided); in the latter, nine dioceses have voted in favor and thirteen against (with another six divided).

3. There are some very decided regional clusters, both supporting and opposing the Covenant. Northwest England has five pro-Covenant dioceses (Blackburn, Bradford, Carlisle, Chester and Sheffield), while the Southwest offers a similar anti-Covenant posture (Bath and Wells, Gloucester, Salisbury, Truro and Worcester). The Southeast, by contrasts, boasts half of the divided dioceses, including such significant players as Ely, Chelmsford, Guildford and Oxford.

4. The individual figures point to persistent tensions at the diocesan level. Extremes such as the lay vote of 93% in favor of the Covenant in Coventry or the clergy vote of 87% against the Covenant in Derby are not the norm. Chelmsford (where the episcopal delegation was split) and Hereford are both dioceses that are clearly on a knife edge, but note also the lay vote of 40% in favor of the Covenant in that bastion of South Bank theology, the Diocese of Southwark. By the same token, the strong anti-Covenant vote in Michael Nazir-Ali's former diocese of Rochester is, on the face of it, perplexing. In Guildford, Leicester and Oxford, the clergy appear to oppose the Covenant and the laypeople appear to support it, which should make for some interesting conversations over the next few months.

5. All in all, it looks as if the Church of England is pretty much evenly split between pro-Covenant and anti-Covenant dioceses. That is not a recipe for harmony. The unraveling that began in 1998 looks set to continue and my fellow countrymen had better prepare for what their American counterparts went through in the 2000s. It isn't going to be pretty.

Update (April 1)

6. Both London and Manchester have now voted and reveal the same pattern of strong clergy opposition and slightly weaker lay opposition. I know too little about Manchester to have had any expectations, but the vote in London surprised me, not least the breaking of episcopal ranks on the part of one of Bishop Chartres' diocesans. Compared with Southwark, the pro-Covenant vote was eight points higher among the clergy but only two points higher among the laity.

Update (April 25)

7. Southwell & Nottingham and Chichester have both broken heavily in favor of the Covenant. It may be a largely academic exercise at this point, but it confirms the strong pro-Covenant stance in northern England. If Newcastle and York follow suit, it will present some interesting questions about the future of the Church of England.  

Update (April 29)

8. A resounding vote in support of the Covenant in York (far greater than in Canterbury) and - perhaps surprisingly - a defeat in Newcastle. The lay vote in Newcastle was very close (testimony, one assumes to the Evangelical presence), but more than two-thirds of the clergy rejected it.       

All the Sound and Fury

Remarkable how things happen when you go out of town!

First, Christian Solidarity International publishes a letter by Pastor Yousef Nadarkhani, under sentence of death for apostasy in Iran. Food for thought, especially as to the quality of our own faith.

Let us remember that beyond beautiful or painful feelings, only three things remain: Faith, Hope and Love. It is important for believers to make sure which kind of Faith, Hope and Love will remain. Only what we receive according the Word remains forever. I would encourage you to live in a way that is worthy to the Holy calling of the Word. Let believers, who are heirs of the glory, be examples for others in order to be a witness of the power of Christ for the world and the future. I beg you to live according the Word of God in order to chase the powers of darkness that generates doubts in your heart. The overcoming faith that casts out the doubt comes by hearing the Word of God.

Then, the Archbishop of Canterbury announces his resignation. From Westcott House and Clare, to Magdalen College, Cambridge; one can't help wondering if he now wishes he had made that journey directly, without an archepiscopal intermission.

Finally, my wife and I are headed for Sheffield, England, where she has just accepted a job as a research scientist. From the Steel City of Pittsburgh to the Steel City of Sheffield (though in both cities steel is now more a function of historical memory than economic reality). And from the Anglican Diocese of Pittsburgh to the Diocese of Sheffield, whose diocesan, Steven Croft, is also a former master of Cranmer Hall (Durham's theological college for those of an Evangelical disposition). Fifty years ago, my mother taught here in the German department; it will be interesting for the next generation to make a return.

On Perikles

To my mind, Mary Renault remains one of the finest novelists of the classical period of Greek Civilization and The Last of the Wine, set during the dying days of the Peloponnesian War, when the hubris of Athenian expansionism was broken by Sparta and her allies, is perhaps the greatest of her literary endeavors. In this excerpt, Alexias, the narrator, and his comrade and lover Lysis, in service on the island of Samos, ponder the justice of the Athenian cause and Lysis recalls the influence upon him of Perikles' famous Funeral Oration, delivered in 431 BC.

He turned the wine-cup in his hand. The black of his eyes, which had been wide open, grew small from looking at the flame, and the iris pleated, like grey and brown silk catching the light.

"They held an Epitaphion at Athens," he said, "in the first year of the war, in honor of the fallen. The ashes and the offerings were carried in state along the Sacred Way, with an empty bier for the bodies that were lost. It was only a few months before your birth; perhaps your mother carried you in procession. I was seven years old. I stood with my father in the Street of Tombs; it was cold and I wanted to run off and play. I stared at the high wooden rostrum they had built for Perikles, waiting for him to climb it, as children wait for a show. When he appeared, I admired his dignity and his fine helmet; and the first sound of his voice struck a kind of thrill upon my ear. But soon I grew tired of standing with cold hands and feet, and doing nothing; I thought it would never end; the weeping of the women had disturbed me, and now the people listened in so deep a silence that I was oppressed by it. I stood staring at the gravestone of a lad carved with his horse; I can see it to this day. I was glad when it was over, and if you had asked me a year later to quote the speech of Perikles, I doubt if I could have fished you up a dozen words. So before I left, I looked it up in the archives. And there were the thoughts that I had supposed I owed to no one. While I read, I still could not remember hearing Perikles say these things. My soul seemed to remember them, as Sokrates says we remember music and mathematics, from the days when we were unborn and pure."

I told him I had heard of the speech but never read it; and he quoted me as much of it as he could remember. Since then I have read it many times. But since I never knew Perikles, to me it is always Lysis who is speaking; I see not the tomb and the rostrum, but the lamps of Samos through a doorway, his shadow thrown big upon the wall, the piled armour shining beside the pallet, the black glossy wine-cup, and his hand, with an old ring of plaited gold on it, touching the stem.

"Men are not born equal in themselves," he said to me after, "so I think it beneath a man to postulate that they are. If I thought myself as good as Sokrates I should be a fool; and if, not really believing it, I asked you to make me happy by assuring me of it, you would rightly despise me. So why should I insult my fellow-citizens by treating them as fools and cowards? A man who thinks himself as good as everyone else will be at no pains to grow better. On the other hand, I might think myself as good as Sokrates, and even persuade other fools to agree with me; but under a democracy, Sokrates is there in the Agora to prove me wrong. I want a City where I can find my equals and respect my betters, whoever they are; and where no one can tell me to swallow a lie because it is expedient, or some other man's will." (Emphasis added.)

From: Mary Renault, The Last of the Wine (New York: Vintage Books, 1973; orig. pub. 1956), 271-273.