I have a respect for those who stand strongly for what they believe in, even if they believe wrongly -- particularly the radically progressive end of the Episcopal church. There's not a wimpy, hesitant, fudgy bone in their bodies as they, confident in their own prophetic wisdom, torpedo the Good Ship ECUSA. One of the most shockingly depressing parts of General Convention, in fact, was in observing those bishops and deputies who have proudly worn the mantle of "progressive theology" over the years fold like a cheap deck chair when confronted with the idea that they might not get to go to Lambeth. Those people, I am sorry to say, though claiming "progressive" beliefs, did not appear to have the courage of their convictions. The betrayal must be keenly felt by that segment of the Progressives who are willing to take their lumps, stand and be counted, and be prophetic despite consequences for their behavior.
I will begin with a bald statement of principle #1 about moderates in the Episcopal church. It will come as little surprise to anyone. "Moderates" make up the majority not simply of the Episcopal church but of most of the human race. This is very different from the makeup, I might add, of the General Convention of the Episcopal church. I have described in other articles the shrinking middle that has developed at our largest national legislative body -- one that has occurred because the radical progressive fringe has greatly expanded in its numbers at General Convention, and the traditionalist fringe has shrunk. The two fringes together now outnumber the middle -- but only at General Convention. It is still true that, at the parish and diocesan levels, in all but the most radical of regions, the "moderates" are still the majority.
During this essay we will embark on a descriptive journey of understanding [how's *that* for Griswold-speak!] of moderates, interspersed with a few principles, and a closing idea on how to approach moderates as best as one can.
First, let me take three "metaphorical examples" to see if I can come close to describing the "moderate". They'll be pretty lengthy, but i believe helpful to our understanding.
DESCRIPTION ONE
We recognize a moderate by the sheer lethargy which seems to envelop them concerning issues about which we believe they should be deeply concerned. In the Episcopal church they say things like:
"What happens in New Hampshire stays in New Hampshire."
OR
"It will never happen in our diocese."
OR
"It will never happen in our parish."
OR
"It will never happen in the service which I attend."
OR
"He'll never say something that crazy from the pulpit."
OR
"Okay, maybe our rector says some strange thing from the pulpit, but he's so smart he must know something I don't."
OR
"He did say some odd things from the pulpit about crystals and "the incantations of the Christ figure within each one of us" last Sunday in his sermon, but I'll never forget how he visited little Jimmy in the hospital back when he had whooping cough."
OR
"Say, did we ever have our big Episcopal church meeting yet? When is that thing? What -- it's happened already?"
OR
"We have a gay bishop? When did that happen?"
OR
"Maybe it will all go away someday and things will settle back down."
OR
"The moderates found their voice at this General Convention."
OR
"I've never understood why all those lovely couples with young children left our church last year."
OR
"Our pledging has gone down because of the poor economy that we've experienced. Also, trends are down all over America for non-profit giving. Also, we cut out one of the hymns we used to have in the 8 o'clock service and that must be why people are so angry and holding back."
OR
"Let's just focus on mission and ministry this year."
The above is simply a small sampling of Amazing Statements that you and I have heard over the past three years. Recognize a few lines? ; > )
DESCRIPTION TWO
I've said in the past that if ever I am violently mugged on a street corner under the outraged eye of a group of witnesses across the street, I do hope that they are not a band of moderate Episcopalian witnesses. [Better yet, let them not be Episcopalians of any stripe -- let them be Southern Baptists.]
The number of meetings, assigned subcommittees, straw polls, Roberts Rules maneuvers, discussions about whether it was really a mugging they were seeing or merely a friendly exchange, denial that it would ever happen on *their* street corner, blank glazed stares, comments on the beautiful evening that we are all enjoying out here, determined stares into shop windows behind them, and much more would take place during the beating and stripping of my wallet and valuable Nike running shoes.
In his trilogy The Lord of the Rings, J R R Tolkien creates a whole new species to describe "moderates". His species are called "Ents" -- ancient and enormous, slow-moving trees, whose motto is "let us not be hasty" and whose language requires many, many lines simply to name their own names; each Ent name, you see, is a lengthy historic story. You may recall from the trilogy that the elves, men, dwarves, and hobbits are engaged in a great struggle against a dark and malevolent "Dark Lord" named Sauron. Battle upon battle has been fought, many have died, some are corrupted, and Sauron's strength continues to grow. But the Ents are not yet involved. Tolkien's description of the Ents is, quite simply, priceless, and goes on for an entire chapter. [Read chapter 4 in The Two Towers for a description of this strange species and of their activities.] Two hobbits meet an Ent named Treebeard and eventually, after much 'hruming' by the Ent, he is brought to some knowledge of the direness of his and his fellow ents' position.
"Hoom, hm, I have not troubled about the Great Wars,' said Treebeard; 'they mostly concern Elves and Men. That is the business of wizards: wizards are always troubled about the future. I do not like worrying about the future. I am not altogether on anybody's side, becuase nobody is altogether on my side, if you understand me: nobody cares for the woods as I care for them, not even Elves nowadays. Still, I take more kindly to Elves than to others: it was the Elves that cured us of dumbness long ago, and that was a great gift that cannot be forgotten, though our ways have parted since. And there are some things, of course, whose side I am altogether not on; I am against them altogether: these --- 'burdrum' (he again made a deep rumble of disgust) '---- these Orcs, and their masters.'
'I used to be anxious when the shadow lay on Mirkwood, but when it removed to Morder, I did not trouble for a while: Morder is a long way away. But it seems that the wind is setting East, and the withering of all woods may be drawing near. There is naught that an old Ent can do to hold back that storm: he must weather it or crack.
'But Saruman now! Saruman is a neighbor: I cannot overlook him. I must do something, I suppose. I have often wondered lately what I should do about Saruman.'
Later on, Treebeard calls a meeting of his fellow Ents -- an "Entmoot".
"As soon as the whole company was assembled, standing in a wide circle round Treebeard, a curious and unintelligble conversation began. The Ents began to murmur slowly: first one joined and then another, until they were all chanting together in a long rising and falling rhythm, now louder on one side of the ring, now dying away there and rising to a great boom on the other side. Though he could not catch or understand any of the words -- he supposed the language was Entish -- Pippin found the sound very pleasant to listen to at first; but gradually his attention wavered. After a long time (and the chant showed no signs of slackening) he found himself wondering, since Entish was such an 'unhasty' language, whether they had yet got further than Good Morning; and if Treebeard was to call the roll, how many days it would take to sing all their names. 'I wonder what the Entish is for yes or no,' he thought. He yawned.
"Treebeard was immediately aware of him. 'Hm, ha, hey, my Pippin!' he said, and the other Ents all stopped their chant. 'You are a hasty folk, I was forgetting; and anyway it is wearisome listening to a speech you do not understand. You may get down now. I have told your names to the Entmoot, and they have seen you, and they have agreed that you are not Orcs, and that new line shall be put in the old lists [of peoples and creatures]. We have got no further yet, but that is quick work for an Entmoot. . . . There are still some words to speak before the Moot begins."
Needless to say, it is days of Ent chanting before a decision is made about what to do about their violent "neighbor." ; > )
And yet, in his description of the Ents, Tolkien is quite kind, respectful in fact, of the Ents' basic mindset and identity. He presents what is ultimately a sympathetic portrait.
In Pippin's description of his first meeting with Treebeard, he states: 'One felt as if there was an enormous well behind them [the eyes], filled up with ages of memory and long, slow, steady thinking; but their surface was sparkling with the present: like sun shimmering on the outer leaves of a vast tree, or on the ripples of a very deep lake."
Treebeard later states: ". . . my name is growing all the time, and I've lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of the things they belong to in my language . . ." And later: "I do not know what the word is in the outside languages: you know, the thing we are on, where I stand and look out on fine mornings, and think about the Sun, and the grass beyond the wood, and the horses, and the clouds, and the unfolding of the world. What is going on? What is Gandalf up to? . . . I like news. But not too quick now.' And still later: "We are tree-herds, we old Ents. Few enough of us are left now. Sheep get like shepherd, and shepherd like sheep, it is said; but slowly, and neither have long in the world. . . . Some of my kin look just like trees now, and need something great to rouse them; and they speak only in whispers. . . . Aye, aye, there was all one wood once upon a time from here to the Mountains of Lune, and this was just the East End. Those were the broad days! Time was when I could walk and sing all day and hear no more than the echo of my own voice in the hollow hills. The woods were like the woods of Lothlorien, only thicker, stronger, younger. And the smell of the air! I used to spend a week just breathing.'
DESCRIPTION THREE
Proceeding on our path of understanding the "moderates in our midst", I bring to your attention a rather typical "moderate", let's say, in the Diocese of Mississippi. He is a successful farmer and land owner. He lives in a small town. He is married, in his late 50s, perhaps, with children who are approaching college age and in college and just married with a young child. He has attended the same Episcopal parish for all of his 50 some years. It is a lovely little stone building, one of the oldest in town, with people in it that he has talked shop with, observed the weather with, done business deals with, barbecued with, attended kids' soccer matches with, bemoaned the local economy with, hunted ducks with [this is Mississippi, remember] and engaged in the whole panoply of "culture-building" activities that humans engage in together. Lately he's noticed their rector saying some odd things . . . the priest arrived 8 or 9 years ago and seemed like a nice fellow, very friendly. The vestry had voted for him unanimously after the search committee presented his name to them -- and his friends are on the vestry, so that says something for the rector. He's never really bothered much with "church politics" of course. All he -- and his father and mother, and his father's father, and his father's mother -- have done with the church was worship faithfully each and every Sunday morning and give a portion of their income to the church; one of the brick sidewalks that winds its way through the cemetery has his family name engraved into one of the bricks -- he paid for the cemetery renovation 10 years ago. Worship is the peaceful solace of his sometimes troubled mind. When he worships, with his friends, and receives the Eucharist, he realizes that his own troubles and concerns are somewhat paltry in light of eternity and of God. Worship provides him with a different, larger perspective, and steadies him for the week of hard work and schedule juggling that will confront him. Once or twice he tried to attend the "Rector's forum" on Sunday after church, but it mostly seemed to him to be the rector talking about things that weren't particularly useful or practical -- most recently he remembers that they were discussing the book 'Tuesdays with Morrie" -- and then some rather odd "swapping of ignorance" discussions amongst the dozen women and the two or three men that were there. He gave up after the second time. Sunday morning worship, after all, is what is important to him. One of his favorite scripture verses is "Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness."
One of the greatest things that he's concerned about is his children. His oldest daughter, now married, no longer attends the Episcopal church; she's a part of some "seeker-friendly" church that is no denomination at all. His oldest son is still in college -- plenty of bills there -- and seems to be doing okay. Not involved in church at all, but that's fairly typical for a college kid. It's his middle son, frankly, that's causing the most anxiety. There are so many terrible temptations out there, that he didn't have to deal with when he was growing up. His middle son is struggling in high school, and one time he discovered him, frankly, drunk. That scene was pretty bad -- but he had let his son know in no uncertain terms that that would never happen again -- especially while driving. He also added a padlock to his well-stocked household bar. His son has long outgrown the small "youth group" at his parish -- the father hopes that the soccer obsession that has swept the town over the past decade will force his son to gain in maturity.
Yes. He'll put his trust in the soccer team for his son.
I go through the above lengthy "descriptive journey" of moderates -- of the Ents and Mississippi farmers and sayings-of-Moderates -- in order to bring us to some further principles, which will arrive pretty rapidly now.
I had mentioned earlier that a number of the "progressives" were somewhat, er, "flexible" in their stances, depending on Lambeth meetings and such.
; > )
Despite the fact that the "foldable" progressives -- or to use a more clinical term, the "institutional progressives" -- probably belong in the "moderate" camp, I maintain that the majority of moderates, but not all of them, are essentially "conservative" in nature.
This principle #2 is something that I suspect our Worthy Opponents are aware of as well.
If this principle is true, and if our Worthy Opponents are aware of this truth, then it certainly explains why much of the progressive agenda in the Episcopal church is advanced in fits and starts, and with loud public proclamations that absolutely nothing is happening or changing. Resolutions are passed, experimental liturgies are tried, blessings are both announced as "within the bounds of our common life" but at the same time claimed that "the Episcopal church does not authorize same-sex blessings". Even just recently I heard this exact line used as a reason for why we did not need to respond to the request of the Windsor Report that bishops not conduct such same sex blessings. When it was pointed out that "the Episcopal church authorizing same sex blessings" is rather different from "bishops conducting same sex blessings within the 'bounds of our common life' " and that we needed to respond to the Windsor Report's request that *bishops* not conduct such ceremonies, the subject was quickly changed.
Of course, once the debate begins anew about formally creating such liturgies for inclusion into the prayer book, it will be pointed out that "we are already doing them, and we've already stated formally that such blessings are within the bounds of our common life, and thus approved." ; > ) The game works like that, as we all know: advance from A to B, deny that such an advance has been made in order to quiet the protests and make certain the moderates don't notice, then when the progressives deem it safe to move from B to C, they use the fomerly denied move from A to B as a precedent for the move from B to C.
*The stealthy advance, though, only needs to take place when people recognize that they *may* be outnumbered in reality.*
After all, if an advancing war party believes that they hold the vast majority in the battle, they can afford to trumpet their arrival, unfurl the flags and banners, put on their shiniest gold armor, and send out heralds announcing their imminent arrival and demand for surrender terms. It is only when one is concerned about having the advantage of numbers that one must use stealth. And frankly, stealth -- at least by the institutional progressives -- is still the preferred option of our Worthy Opponents, despite the somewhat premature victory party of the 2003 General Convention.
The moderates greatly value tradition, history, and good order. They wish very much that "society would hold together" for the sake of their children, the community, and the church. Their love for tradition and history and good order is also an 'Achilles heel" that produces a certain confidence, or let us say, arrogance, that this same tradition and history and good order will continue rolling on down through the ages. Some of the "hasty", or "quick", moderates are catching on to the catastrophes that seem to be unfolding . . . over the past three years I have certainly seen moderates become concerned and active.
And at that point, friends, they are no longer "moderates".
Nevertheless, we arrive at Principle # 4 and that is . . . "put not your faith in moderates". While it is easy to be excited and hopeful in the numbers of moderates out there should they ever become aware -- it is best not to be blinded by those numbers in either your parish or diocese.
The reason is that it is a frank mystery as to when moderates in *any* organization become aware, alarmed, and activated. One can simply never tell when that may be or why it happens.
And one cannot *control* or force that awareness either.
Which brings us rapidly to Principle #5: since we cannot count on moderates to take action -- many of them are still rousing themselves from their slumber -- we can only work ourselves, strategically and methodically. And it is frankly better for our mental health not to pound our heads against the hard rock of their unconcern, lack of awareness, and passivity in an effort to "change" them, and focus more on your own work rather than your desire for others to become aware and active.
But . . . I am not saying that we should ignore the beloved moderates in our midst. Not at all.
It is here that I can well imagine many of my allies. Their fingers are hovering over the computer keyboard in outrage, pondering what they believe they should say to the moderates.
Should we tell them how sinful they are in their passivity and cluelessness?
Should we, perhaps, send them a sharply worded 19 page letter, detailing all of the outrages and wickednesses of the Episcopal church that have escaped their attention, in effect, turning on the fire hose of information?
Or perhaps we should approach them one day in the parking lot and quote a few choice scripture passages to them -- particularly the one about God spewing the lukewarm person out of His mouth, which is precisely what He will do to them if they don't shape up soon.
I imagine that many of us have tried that route.
It feels good, doesn't it, to really let 'em have it squarely between the eyes. To be . . . well . . . so "prophetic". Does that word remind you of anyone, say another segment? ; > )
Of course, there are a number of sins that people embody that we might be "prophetic" about [and yes, I believe that a number of moderates are sinful in their self-deceit and apathy, but don't worry . . . I'll get to *our* sins another day]. For instance, I might boldly and honestly and forthrightly and prophetically tell Mrs. PSmythe-Witthington that not only is her sunflower-yellow spandex a sin against good taste, but she is not treating her body well when she abuses it by lack of exercise and gluttony, and then I might offer her a short treatise on gnosticism and the importance of the material world and of our physical bodies, and then quote a few select Bible passages, particularly the one about the body being the temple of the Holy Spirit.
Perhaps then she might change! ; > )
But most likely . . . not.
In pondering how to talk with and engage and befriend the moderates in our midst, I am struck by how *I* have changed over the years. I have my own sins to struggle with today, and can look back on times when I struggled with others.
In general -- and I mean generally -- the changes that the Holy Spirit has worked in me were gradual and gentle ones, punctuated by moments of piercing conviction, repentance, dependence on Christ's work of redemption on the cross, failing again, stagnating, throwing myself on His mercy again, a dawning of special insight into why I kept failing, more learning, meditation on God's word, more humbling over failure, demands and pleadings for help, failure again, gnashing, grinding teeth, further humbling, faithlessness, repentance, piercing conviction, bits of occasional faith . . . you get the picture.
Though there have been a few -- very few -- times that God has done sudden, wrenching, terrible work in my life, in general His efforts appear to be those of "drip irrigation" rather than that of a fire hose. And I simply do not EVER recall a time that someone gave me a "good dressing down" that was at all helpful.
Why does God treat us in so gentle a way, when we do such terrible things?
I believe that it is because He knows that we are sheep.
Dumb. Wooly. Dirty. Weak. Easily led. Not particularly charming or attractive. Helpless. Falling over cliffs *all the time*. Constantly needing rescue.
In general, God does not "flog the flock". He does not desire to kill us with His condemnation. And in the case of the believer, He has already taken the eternal consequences of our sin on His own shoulders and into His own heart.
This is where I have to confess my own sin. Very often I find myself gnashing at the "beloved moderates in our midst" . . . imagining wrongly that I myself am not an ignorant, passive, cowardly sheep as well.
But I am. I believe that, despite our having some insights and knowledge about *one little stone bridge that is important*, we are essentially still sheep, still blissfully unaware of many of our own sins and failings, and thus still "moderates" about a lot of other important things.
The moment we recognize this is the moment that we develop some empathy for the people next to us in the pews who have just realized that there was a General Convention a few weeks ago that may have been somewhat important.
If we grant, then, that each one of us is a tool of God's good purposes in other people's lives, we will usually [though not always] function with gentleness and good will towards our fellow sheep, not flogging them, or turning on the "fire hose" of our knowledge, but engaging with them as friends, sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with them, and "drip irrigating" them slowly and graciously, over a meal or over coffee, about the importance of the issues confronting our church. We will answer their questions kindly, not with sniffs of disdain or gasps of horror over their ignorance. We will focus on their own terrible needs and concerns, if they have no questions; perhaps God has other more important things to teach them. And even if He wants to teach them about the church and its woes, the gospel is still supreme, still of paramount importance. In fact, the church's woes may well be His vehicle for presenting the gospel to some, as they struggle with what to do.
We will learn about them, and love them with our whole hearts.
We will show grace to them in a steady, faithful manner. Because He has shown grace to us in overflowing abundance.
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One usually finds one of two things in the middle of the road, yellow stripes or dead animals.