Something Understood

Last week was Finals week, so I'm done with my third semester of seminary. I had a productive and positive wrap-up with the Lay Committee and my supervisor at my Field Ed parish. For Ethics, I wrote a 10 page paper detailing the structure and content of a theoretical parish workshop about Christian response(s) to consumerism. My modern church history/theology final consisted of three essays, each 1000 words maximum, chosen from six available topics. I did the Doctrine of Creation read through Catherine Keller, Lewis Ford, and Paul Tillich, and contrasted with Babylonian, Maori, Tongan, and Pomo creation stories. I did the Doctrine of God as extracted from three Christian preachers writing during the American War for Independence. I did the social development of the Episcopal Church.

It was a bit of a grueling semester, in part, I think, because the reality of the "professional" affiliation to the church is starting to settle in. This has little to do with "organized religion" (whatever that is; religion is inherently organized, as it always involves the sharing of spiritual stories and myths with a community) and more to do with the relationship between individual and organization in general. Any individual worth his or her self-reflective and thoughtful self will, it is hoped, be critical of the institutions, systems, and philosophies that surround them, and yet such institutions are very often useful, and certainly have the potential to get a lot of good work done. How does one manage the tension between allegiance and loyalty to institutions and organizations, while at the same time being critical of those same bodies, and pushing them towards accountability and goodness? It doesn't matter what the organization is, you see, the same applies to one's relationship to government, "nation", the library, the PTA, your employer, your family — any group, really, to which you have an affiliation.

People in the church, I think, are held to higher standards. This is probably something to do with the general assumption that the church (the institution of the church, that is) is supposed to be a repository of moral rectitude. It's increasingly difficult in this society, with its curious blend of vehement secularism and gasping Christian Imperialism. On one hand, the secularist wing of society doesn't afford churches any particular moral authority, but will be quick to criticize when people affiliated with the church screw up. On the other hand, the politics of Christian Imperialism wraps power and jingoism in religious language, which means that both morality and doctrine are subsumed beneath the assumptions of domination. Neither credits human fallibility within a world of divine humility. We live in a world which thinks that it knows what truth is, what knowledge is, what religion is, what spirituality is, what church is, what "religious people" are supposed to do, and how to go about combatting those who disagree with you.

It's a hell of a place to try to set up shop.

However, Christmas is nigh. In the midst of struggle and strife and confusion, there is a baby in a manger. In the midst of all of our assumptions about what God must be like (and even atheists start from assumptions about what God must be like if only God existed) there is vulnerable child God who has come to dwell with us here on earth. Merry Christmas, and peace on earth.