Sin Boldly
The Episcopal Church and the Cost of Reform
I am very interested in the varied and sometimes conflicting responses I received concerning my last article, Is the Game Worth the Candle? I asked whether it is more effective to nominate the best candidate for elective office with minimal regard for the fact that women and minorities are considered less electable, or vice versa.
I am going to use the Episcopal Church -- the one I know best -- to take an oblique look at the issue. In 1970, the Episcopal Church had about 3.2 million members; today, it has about 1.5 million. During this same period, the Church has become more unified in its commitment to social justice as a form of Christian ministry central to the Gospel, raising the question of how institutional cohesion, mission, and membership trends are connected.
People are motivated to participate in a religious community primarily by the satisfaction of being in communion with all of reality, especially with God and humanity. This reflects the biblical meaning of the word “salvation,” which originally referred not merely to the afterlife. Yet this communion is achieved in large measure through the satisfaction of contributing to one’s own society in accordance with the purpose of humanity’s creation -- service to this world, and, therefore, to creation as a whole. Personal satisfaction takes place through engagement with the cultural, political, and economic welfare realms of society.
In the same way that secular political motivations vary, each person has different priorities and proclivities through which personal contribution provides both secular and religious satisfaction. The goal is to serve all three social realms, but each of us has a special area of interest. Some are dedicated to the more personal benefits and obligations of faith, expressed most clearly in Sunday morning worship and generous participation in a parish community. Others possess a religious and personal passion for justice and find fulfillment in serving those in need. People naturally drawn to the economic needs of society are likely to be especially helpful in addressing the financial needs of church institutions.
The issues of social justice recognized following World War II -- especially through the leadership offered by the Church in the Civil Rights Movement -- rose to the level of first importance. By 1979, most of the religious concerns Reagan and the Moral Majority raised, such as women’s rights and issues of human sexuality, had already largely been settled within the Episcopal Church. For Anglicans, the recognition initially appeared in the need for liturgical reform including Prayer Book revision. It became apparent that Elizabethan language needed to be replaced with contemporary American vernacular in order to express love and piety in language meaningful to modern society. Another major issue was the restoration of the Holy Eucharist as the central service of Sunday worship, replacing the older pattern in which Morning Prayer often occupied that role.
Very soon, however, it became apparent that Prayer Book revision demanded changes that were far more profound and theologically radical. This began with demands from Black clergy that the Church make a stronger commitment to minorities and to secular efforts on behalf of justice. The Church developed a special program directing a significant portion of its annual income toward initiatives supporting social change and addressing the needs of minority communities. These appropriations were approved during the 1970 General Convention.
An indication of how broad and serious the program became can be seen in one of my first personal contributions to the movement, when I was a student present at the General Convention with some assigned responsibilities. Someone moved that funds could not be used for institutions led by anyone convicted of a felony. I quickly wrote a note to one of the deputies, who immediately moved to strike the resolution as unconstitutional, on the grounds that the Church would not be able to fund itself: its founder, Jesus, was convicted and executed.
At the Convention, women were seated as deputies for the first time. A resolution was introduced and a hearty debate followed regarding the ordination of women. This is an excellent example of how quickly initial insights can bring into focus the need for institutional reform. There was, of course, significant opposition to this. Nevertheless, everyone left the Convention with the understanding that women’s ordination was now on the agenda and would not go away.
The most important development in the process of Prayer Book revision and sacramental theology was the decision that baptized infants could receive the sacrament before the rite of confirmation, which normally occurs in the pre-teen years. This set the stage for a series of subsequent changes that unfolded one after another. A new, clarifying, and perfectly logical standard emerged: anyone who is baptized has the right to receive any of the sacraments and to participate fully in the institutional life of the Church. This theological shift in our revised Prayer Book came to be known as Baptismal Theology.
The defining insight of Baptismal Theology was spelled out issue by issue over the next thirty years. In 1976, the Episcopal Church voted both to authorize the ordination of women and to adopt the proposed Prayer Book. American decisions were soon adopted across the Anglican Communion. Today, the Archbishop of Canterbury is a woman, and if current trends continue, women may well constitute a majority among American bishops. Liturgical reforms established in Baptismal Theology spread rapidly, beginning in Canada, then New Zealand, and across much of the Western world. Adoption has taken longer in other regions, such as Africa and Asia, which are among the fastest-growing Anglican Provinces. As the American Episcopal Church addressed each of these issues -- what political discourse began to refer to as the “culture wars” -- its commitments increasingly aligned with social justice concerns.
Recognition moved step by step, often slowly and with fierce opposition, including advances for LGBTQ people, same-sex unions, women’s rights, and expanded opportunities for minorities, amid continuing political and cultural conflict. For example, the Church has issued repeated statements opposing Christian nationalism.
Despite the success of the reforms and of the Church’s ministry for social justice, it is important to emphasize how difficult and painful the changes have been for many who disagreed with them. I want to acknowledge the cost to the health and welfare of the Church, just as it is costly for the Democratic Party to commit itself to supporting minorities as a priority in electoral politics.
In religious communities, conflict is highly destructive. It often arises when controversial decisions must be made. Even a seemingly minor dispute, such as removing the American flag from the sanctuary, may be enough to lead some people to disengage or reduce their financial support. But the most serious consequences are the emotional and spiritual suffering experienced by fellow Christians. What is lost is often what is most important to their understanding of the faith or their regular participation in it.
Even after all this time, many faithful members of the Church continue to demand the use of Elizabethan language and elements of the rite that remain in tension with later theological changes. At the same time, they may struggle with feelings of guilt, believing that their preferences hinder younger members from fully embracing the Church. Nevertheless, most are long-standing members, and their sincerity has likely been tested many times over.
We are back to the question of what is best for the Democratic Party in seeking to fully support minorities facing injustice, while also remaining attentive to the challenge of building a just society though electoral success. There are no easy answers. The Episcopal Church has chosen justice over institutional success, at least in terms framed by most secular standards. I make this comparison not to suggest specific choices for the Democratic Party, but to help clarify some of the issues and cautions involved in making such choices.
Ideas like these are best explored together. Share your thoughts. I read and respond to every comment.
I suppose the real question is this:
“Do you consciously give up 10% of your goals, knowing that by doing so you are almost guaranteed to achieve the remaining 90%? Or do you take a very high risk of losing the entire 100%, even though you know you are almost certain to fail, simply because you feel you cannot give up that 10%?”
Ask any rational individual this question, and the answer will almost always be the same: sacrifice the 10% in order to secure the 90%.
However, as we know, a large group of people — whether a political party, a religious institution, or any other collective organization — does not behave like a single rational individual. Such groups operate through very different mechanisms when reaching conclusions and making decisions.