"Always Refer to Your Baptism" -- Il Papa on Making Eucharist Together

In recent weeks, representatives from the ELCA and the US Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) put forward a bold declaration of points where we have come to agree on the Church, ministry, and the Eucharist. (For a more detailed summary of the process, consult the Catholic News Service article.) They recognize the differences that divide us -- women in ministry, full acceptance of LGBT persons, married priests and bishops, explanations of how Christ is present in the Bread and Wine -- but these differences are not what makes this document unique. Rather, it is the declaration that Catholics and Lutherans should be able to (occasionally) commune together.

The document, called "Declaration on the Way," is well worth the read and has made quite a splash within ecclesial circles -- along the same lines of the "Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification," the groundbreaking work released in 1999. "Declaration on the Way" still has a long way to go. While the ELCA bishops have approved it, their decision is not binding. Rather, it will go before our Churchwide Assembly in 2016. From there, it will go to the Lutheran World Federation, the worldwide communion of independent Lutheran denominations. Likewise, same document will go before the entire USCCB for a vote on whether or not to send the proposal to Rome, where it would be considered by the Vatican's group on ecumenical relations. It's a long way to go, to be sure. The schism between Augsburg and Rome is not yet healed.

The en via, though, recognizes a central fact about the Eucharist: While it is a sign of ecclesial unity, it is also the means by which we are gracefully united into the Body of Christ. The Eucharist upholds our baptismal unity.

And Pope Francis has taken up this issue himself in recent weeks. He attended Vespers at the Lutheran parish in Rome, and in doing so, encouraged Lutherans and Catholics to forgive each other for the horrible persecutions they have perpetrated against each other and to work together. In and of itself, this is a marked shift from the pre-Vatican II church, but not unexpected from this Pope, who has met with the female presiding bishop of the ELCA and has worshiped alongside the Archbishop of Canterbury.

And then a woman asked a question. She and her husband are in a mixed Lutheran/Catholic marriage, and she wanted to know if she would ever be allowed to share the Eucharist with her full family. The Pope's response is worth quoting at length, as found at Whispers in the Loggia:

I think of how the Lord told us when he gave us this mandatumto “do this in memory of me,” and when we share the Lord’s Supper, we recall and we imitate the same as the Lord. And there will be the Lord’s Supper in the final banquet in the new Jerusalem – it’ll be there! But that will be the last one… in the meantime, I ask myself and don’t know how to respond – what you’re asking me, I ask myself the question. To share the Lord’s banquet: is it the goal of the path or is it the viaticum [etym. “to accompany you on the journey”] for walking together? I leave that question to the theologians and those who understand.

It’s true that in a certain sense, to share means that there aren’t differences between us, that we have the same doctrine – underscoring that word, a difficult word to understand. But I ask myself: but don’t we have the same Baptism? If we have the same Baptism, shouldn’t we be walking together? And you’re a witness of a likewise profound journey, a journey of marriage: itself a journey of family and human love and of a shared faith, no? We have the same Baptism.

...
I can only respond to your question with a question: what can I do with my husband that the Lord’s Supper might accompany me on my path? It’s a problem that each must answer [for themselves], but a pastor-friend once told me that “We believe that the Lord is present there, he is present” – you believe that the Lord is present. And what's the difference? There are explanations, interpretations, but life is bigger than explanations and interpretations. Always refer back to your baptism – one faith, one baptism, one Lord: this Paul tells us; and then consequences come later.

I would never dare to give permission to do this, because it’s not my own competence. One baptism, one Lord, one faith. Talk to the Lord and then go forward. [Pauses] And I wouldn't dare – I don’t dare say anything more.

Video of his response from the Catholic News Service:

The Pope's response reminds me of the ELCA's presiding bishop when I had the chance to ask her about our relationship with Rome this summer:

That is a scandal....The Reformation needed to happen, but we should not celebrate when the Church is fractured....With Christ, all things are possible....I'm not going to put a date on it, but it is our Lord's will.

A time is coming at this, the end of the age, when we will gather together and join the unending hosts of heaven in celebrating our Lord's presence among us.

Thanks be to God.

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Post-Script: As an aside, Il Papa addressed the gathering of the Catholic Church in Italy with the following words and a hat-tip to the Lutheran tradition:

"The reform of the church then, and the church is semper reformanda ... does not end in the umpteenth plan to change structures," he continued. "It means instead grafting yourself to and rooting yourself in Christ, leaving yourself to be guided by the Spirit -- so that all will be possible with genius and creativity."

Scattered Thoughts on Eucharistic Praxis: Expanding on Frustration

My previous post was born out of frustration after three days of participating in Eucharistic liturgies done poorly -- or rather, in ways which seem to neglect the supreme importance of the Church's sacramental celebration. Certainly, Christ was still present in the elements; grace abounds. But our practice, while entirely dependent upon God's grace, should not be performed sans care or thought.

Likewise, my frustration should not be tossed out as a glib offering without proper explanation of why I find certain practices so troubling.

--  --  --

1. It is indeed right and salutary to provide an alcohol-free element. It is not right for that option to be cranberry juice.

The Vine and its fruit are important images for the Church. Throughout Scripture, the Vine is used as a way to understand God's relationship to Israel and the Gentiles -- that we are branches grafted upon the Vine. Likewise, Christ claimed to be the Vine -- not the bog (or the berry bush, for those of you out there using Blackberry Manischewitz). The central symbol is not just that Christ is a fruit-bearing plant, but that he is a particular type of plant.

In rushing to do good -- to provide for the inclusion of the entire Church in the Eucharist -- we should not ignore the symbols of our faith.

2. Your bread should not be heavily flavored, as with garlic. Your bread should definitely not have parmagiano cheese dust on it.

There are some recipes for Communion bread which call for small amounts of honey. What makes garlic cloves or cheese powder so different?

For starters, the honey (much like the salt or sugar) is thoroughly mixed into the bread in a way that minced garlic is not, and certainly in a way that cheese powder does not.

More importantly, though, is that the recipe used for the bread should not distract  from the centrality of the bread. If one uses honey, it should not make the bread so sweet as to taste like cake. Cloves of garlic, olives and other fruits, and cheeses distract from the bread itself.

With both the bread and the wine, one is forced to ask, "Can Christ be present in cranberry juice or bits of garlic clove? Can Jesus show up in parmagiano cheese?" Certainly. I suspect that Jesus is fully capable of showing up in the coffee and donuts we share in the fellowship hall after the service and in the beer and pizza I enjoyed frequently during seminary. Let's hope that the Triune God is present at all of our meals. But this is not a question of God can do. It's a question of where Jesus told us he would show up: that on the night in which he was betrayed, he took bread and wine, and said that are his Body and Blood given for us.

3. The appropriate response upon receiving the Host and the Chalice is not, "Thank you."

Please, don't thank me. In the Eucharist, neither the celebrant nor the servers (ordained and lay) are the major actors. I do firmly believe that the celebrant and servers play some role in the Sacrament -- but then again, so do the laity who faithfully participate in the celebration. The entire point of the Eucharist is to give thanks to God rather than mortals.

So instead, either respond with, "Thanks be to God," or even more appropriately, "Amen" (which literally translated means "surely" or "certainly" -- as in, "This truly is the Body and Blood of our Savior.")

4. When you receive, actually receive -- with open hands. I am not about to move the Host back and yell, "Psych!" nor am I Mr. Miyagi training you to snatch a pebble from my hand.

Much like prayer, there are a number of ways to reverently receive -- with open hands, via a spoon (as is the Orthodox tradition), or directly on the tongue (a practice maintained in certain Catholic circles, but which I have also seen performed in Lutheran parishes). And, like positions of prayer, it is difficult to say that there is a "right" way to commune. However, there are ways which are more reverential. Snatching is most certainly less reverential in that it treats the Sacrament like a buffet line.

Moreover, those serving at the Altar are doing just that -- serving. This is a sacred duty that many of us undertake with great care as it is an opportunity for us to live into Christ's call that we be "servants to all."

Finally, there is a practical aspect. If the Host is locally made bread rather than the thin, flat wafer, grabbing it from the server can lead to crumbs. Crumbs at the dining room table are annoying; crumbs at the Lord's Table are disrespectful of the Body of Christ itself.

5. I know. The plastic cups resemble shot glasses. That does not mean, however, that you must "toss it back."

I'll be honest: this one is more of a pet peeve. There is something, though, that strikes me as disrespectful when a communicant slings there entire head back as though the Precious Blood were a shot at a bar. I am the first to say that we need to stop using the "thimbles" for the Sacrament (and my goal for every parish I serve is to move them away from the practice). But if we are stuck with the shot glass/thimble method of distribution, we can at least treat it as reverently as possible.

As with receiving the Host, there are certain actions that are more dignified than others. Simply tilting the cup to the mouth is more dignified than throwing one's entire head back while communing.

-- -- --

Our practices are important -- not because they are pleasing to God or do anything to justify us, but because they form us into a people who show our awe and thankfulness towards God. In doing so, we open ourselves to the work of the Holy Spirit in a manner similar to reading Sacred Scripture or giving alms to those in need.

In adopting more faithful practice, we cooperate with God's work through the Sacraments and allow for our continued sanctification.

Scattered Thoughts on Eucharistic Praxis

1. It is indeed right and salutary to provide an alcohol-free element. It is not right for that option to be cranberry juice.

2. Your bread should not be heavily flavored, as with garlic. Your bread should definitely not have parmagiano cheese dust on it.

3. The appropriate response upon receiving the Host and the Chalice is not, "Thank you."

4. When you receive, actually receive -- with open hands. I am not about to move the Host back and yell, "Psych!" nor am I Mr. Miyagi training you to snatch a pebble from my hand.

5. I know. The plastic cups resemble shot glasses. That does not mean, however, that you must "toss it back."

Frankly, I'm a bit surprised any of this needs to be said.

Paschal Candles: Why Not Every Sunday?

As is so often the case, one of my seminary classmates has pushed me to think longer and harder about this topic (thank God for faithful colleagues).

She asks:

Ok, for the sake of argument, didn't Martin Luther say that every Sunday is a "little Easter"? So, why not light the Paschal Candle every Sunday? We celebrate Christ's passion and resurrection with each Holy Eucharist. Thoughts?

Bishop J. Neil Alexander (former Bishop of Atlanta, current dean of the School of Theology at Sewanee, and, like me, an alum of LTSS) discusses this in one of his books, Celebrating Liturgical Time. Essentially, his point is that while every Sunday is a "little Easter" and that the theology of the Resurrection permeates every Divine Service throughout the year regardless of seasonal and thematic overtones, that we still mark Easter proper with special distinction -- pre-Paschal fasting during Lent, the Triduum, the Vigil, extra acclamations, and the like. These distinctives set Easter apart as a sacred time among sacred times. Some of these markers (in this case, the Paschal candle) carries further into the rest of the year.

It's similar to the point Phil Pfatteicher makes about the "priesthood of all believers" -- that all Christians are baptized into the ministry of offering prayers and participation in sacramental worship, but the Holy Spirit and the Church call deacons, presbyters/priests, and bishops to ordained ministries of Word, Sacrament, Service, and Order (to be as broadly ecumenical as possible). The call to ordained ministry does not negate the ministry in which all Christians share, but rather furthers it. Just so, the year of "little Easters" culminates in the holiest time of holy times -- the Paschal Feast.

I suggest that it is good and proper to maintain certain distinctive elements, including the Paschal Candle, but not to such a degree as to make them "off-limits" throughout the rest of the year. The Paschal Candle, then, functions as something of a Resurrection exclamation point, making certain feasts stand out through the year.

By way of comparison, imagine if we took "Alleluia" to such an extreme -- that we used it all throughout Easter, but then excluded it from our Christmas liturgy, or if we did not abstain from it during Lent.

All of that being said, there is an argument to be made for using the Paschal Candle throughout the year, and frequent usage does not rob an item or action of its "specialness" or its meaning. We can probably count this one as adiaphora.

Light Your Paschal Candle This Sunday

All Saints' Day is this Sunday. Be sure to light your Paschal Candle.

It's a surprisingly controversial statement, to be sure. The official guidance from the US Conference of Catholic Biships is that the Paschal Candle is extinguished at Pentecost, and then removed (completely) from the Sanctuary unless for Holy Baptism or for a funeral.

In his seminal Manual on the Liturgy for the Lutheran Book of Worship, Philip Pfatteicher holds to the same position: that the Paschal Candle should not be used outside of the Great Fifty Days (with the exceptions of Baptisms and funerals), and it should never be used as the Christ Candle in the Advent wreath.

Guidelines from the Episcopal Church and the ELCA speak volumes by their silence: no other time outside of Easter, Holy Baptism, and funerals are addressed.

There is a certain logic to this: Easter is the marker of the Resurrection, and so the use of the Paschal Candle at funerals makes sense. And Baptism was, at one point, possibly, maybe kind of restricted to the Vigil. Using the Paschal Candle at "off-season" Baptisms makes sense as a way of emphasizing the continuity between the Sacrament as it is celebrated at the Great Vigil and throughout the rest of the year.

But it is exactly this connection to Resurrection that makes the Paschal Candle such an important symbol for use on All Saints' and All Souls' Days services. In her Altar Guild and Sacristy Handbook, S. Anita Stauffer points out that "the Paschal Candle is a resurrection symbol" (p. 19; ironically, she does this while discouraging its use during Evening Prayer).

The light marks our hope in the Resurrection of Christ. We cling to this hope on the first two days in November. We pray for the Faithful Departed specifically because we hope that Easter will lead to the Resurrection of the Body. We hope that the light which pierces the darkness of Holy Saturday will pierce the darkness of our sorrow. We hope that the promises made in Baptism will hold true through the grave. The light that pierced the darkness at the funeral is also the light in which we hope on All Saints' and All Souls'.

All Saints' and All Souls' are the Easter season erupting into the Ordinary Time of early November.

And maybe, just maybe, our liturgy is dynamic enough to accommodate our faith.

The Pope and the Clerk: On Rushing to Judgment

Let me put a few cards on the table:

1) I support full LGBT inclusion in the Church and in society. I rejoiced at the Obergefell decision.

2) I support freedom of religious expression and those who have conscientious objections.

3) I disagree with Kim Davis' decision to stop issuing marriage licenses. If her job requires her to act in contradiction to her religious beliefs, she should follow the example of early Christians and leave her job. The ancient liturgical document The Apostolic Tradition of Pseudo-Hippolytus lists professions that were forbidden to Christians. The expectation was that there are certain jobs that conflicted with the teaching of the Church: ancient Christians did not serve as as charioteers. It's not that they were charioteers who refused to race; they simply left the profession. Davis should follow the example of the third century Chrisitans and resign her position if she believes if conflicts with her faith.

4) Moreover, I think Davis' legal counsel is using her. They have their own agenda in mind, not her best interest. Frankly, I am surprised that her representatives have not been disbarred.

5) I like this Pope. I disagree with him on a few issues, but I firmly believe that he is making steps towards full reconciliation within the Church.

6) I like NPR. They tend to get stories right on the first go and tend to be the most unbiased news source in this country. I'm going to call them out on some stuff in this post precisely because they usually do a good job. Fox News or MSNBC dropping the ball on a story? Nothing out of the ordinary. NPR is capable of better, and so they're my media-stand-in.

With all of that being said, when Pope Francis met Kim Davis, the American media lost its mind.

The trip went incredibly well. The Bishop of Rome delivered a stirring address to Congress, ate with the poor, met with survivors of clerical sex abuse, and projected himself as a bishop of the people -- in keeping with his desire that the Church be poor and for the poor.

But just consider how the few days after his departure played out.

The first few days after his return to Rome, NPR lauded the visit, saying he "Moves Believers and Skeptics Alike" and "Strikes A Chord" with both Catholics and non-Catholics.

And then something happened. Lawyers at the Liberty Counsel started tweeting about Kim Davis' papal audience. And the tone of the conversation changed. NPR picked up the story and reported what Davis told ABC News:

Just knowing the pope is on track with what we're doing, and agreeing, you know, kind of validates everything.

That same day, NPR ran a story: "Pope's Commitment to Religious Freedom Highlighted on US Trip." Interviewee Emma Green, a reporter at The Atlantic, details all of the ways that Il Papa discussed religious freedom: he mentioned it at Independence Hall, he met with a group of nuns in a legal struggle against the contraceptive mandate, and he mentioned it before Congress. As Green puts it: "hints." But meeting with Davis? That's highlighting, because we all know how intimately the Bishop of Rome is concerned in the goings-on of a Pentecostal county clerk in Kentucky.

It's important to remember that at this point, there had been little news on the event. The story broke on 30 September, the date of the article above. The Vatican commented on it the same day, acknowledging that the Pope and Davis had been in the same place at the same time.

By the next day, NPR was touting that the visit "Puts a New Twist" on the papal visit. Credit where credit is due, one of the Vatican correspondents discussed the Pope's mid-air press conference this way:

We don't know exactly how this meeting occurred and what the pope knew about her. Of course, just later on a press conference on the way back to Rome after leaving Philadelphia, he was asked about the rights of conscientious objection for people, and then he gave a very milk-toast, bland answer about generic rights of conscientious objection for people without mentioning Kim Davis, without mentioning same-sex marriage. So it makes me think that maybe he didn't even know who this person was or what was going on in that meeting.

But this clarification came only in response to the anchor's question:

It would seem that everything on a papal trip is there to make a point. What might have been the point for Pope Francis in this meeting with Kim Davis?

Later, NPR ran a follow-up about the response of LGBT Catholics "disappointed" in the papal "meeting."

It's important to remember how little had come out at this point in the story. The only source of information on the meeting was from Davis and her lawyers. The Vatican had done little more than to begrudgingly admit that the meeting had occurred. And yet the entire week-long visit was recast by this single event.

Then, after two days and no fewer than four articles of confused "this changes everything" reporting, the hurricane stopped. The Vatican issued a statement. Turns out, the meeting didn't change everything. The Pope met Davis briefly in a receiving line. It wasn't a formal audience. He offered no express opinion on her situation. Because, as it turns out, the Liberty Counsel was blowing the event way out of proportion.

And the news media -- even our best news agencies -- swallowed the Liberty Counsel's version, hook, line, and sinker.

Cue the correction and clarification: NPR ran two consecutive stories after the Vatican announced the "meeting" was almost a non-event. Hindsight, it turns out, is much clearer. You can't draw a total conclusion about a person's policy from a single event, especially if that event is being framed entirely by somebody else's agenda. Francis met briefly with Davis in an impersonal, highly formalized setting -- but we only listened to how Davis and her lawyers framed the narrative. Because, as it turns out, Francis did have an official one-on-one audience, much like the one Davis described. But he met with a former student, a gay man, and that man's husband. They were welcomed via personal invitation, whereas Davis was contacted independently by the nuncio (Vatican ambassador) to the US.

Way back on the first day of the news cycle, Fr. James Martin, SJ, wrote a quick seven-point response to the unfolding story. Throughout, he urges caution in interpreting the events. He reminds us that the Vatican, not Davis, is the authority on the Pope's actions and intentions. That meetings take place but do not indicate specific endorsement of the individual. As Fr. Martin puts it:

Most of all, despite what Ms. Davis said, a meeting with the pope does not “kind of validate everything.” Again, the pope meets with many people, some of whom he may know well, others of whom may be introduced to him as a reward for long service, and perhaps others who will use a meeting to make a political point. Meeting with the pope is a great honor, but it does not betoken a blanket blessing on “everything” one does. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Pope Francis also met Mark Wahlberg, and that does not mean that he liked “Ted.”

So the next time there's a "this changes everything" moment with the Pope, whether it's along the lines of "Who am I to judge?" or a meeting with a partisan figure, let's all wait. See how things unfold. Remember that every event has to be understood in the full context of the who the Pope is, both as the Bishop of Rome and as a man named Jorge. No single event defines a papacy or a visit.

So, NPR and every other news organization out there, wait a moment next time. Put the events in full context. And please, for the love of God, don't let the Liberty Counsel control the narrative. 

"I'll Recite the Creed'

Pope Francis has made waves with his emphasis on social justice, peace, and proper stewardship. He's also received a lot of pushback -- from politicians, which is to be expected, but also from theologians.

As my colleague Fr. Lee pointed out, the Church's mission for social justice is rooted in our theology.

So when Il Papa was questioned about his perceived leftism, his response was spot on:

“Maybe I have given an impression of being a little bit to the left,” the pope said. “And it if [sic] necessary, I’ll recite the creed. I am available to do that, eh.” 

A Just Liturgy

One of my classmates from Candler, Father Lee, is one of the single most impressive priests I know: well-versed in Latin and Greek, an Anglo-Catholic who also sports thick glasses, a beard and tattoos, rides a motorcycle, and celebrates the Mass in Spanish when asked. He is the future of the Church, and the Episcopal Church is lucky to have him.

As a colleague, I am blessed by his insights into contemporary culture and theology. Recently, the Most Reverend Justin Welby, current Archbishop of Canterbury, proposed a major shake-up within the Anglican Communion. This news broke from Lambeth right around the time that Senator Bernie Sanders addressed students at Liberty University's weekly convocation. A few highlights from my colleague's reflections:

Bernie knows something we can’t seem to grasp: When, not if, but when Evangelicals wake up to issues of Economic Justice, it will be a cataclysmic shift in the American political landscape. One which the Republican party, as it stands today, will not survive.

I’m not sure the Mainline will survive it either. We’ve made justice issues our sine qua non, at the expense of a comprehensive theological vision to back it up. When Evangelicals start to get on board they will do it better than we do, and no amount of liturgical Millenials will be enough to make us compelling.

And later:

I’m starting to get my hackles up anytime I hear “It doesn’t matter how you believe, only how we pray.”

No. The Creed is a claim, not just of our belief, but of the truth of the reality of the Triune God, and the Church that serves that God. The central claim that we make is that God crossed the infinite gap between Godself and us, and became like us in order to save us.

 The Church is called to strive for justice, and unfortunately, we've allowed powers and principalities to distract us from that task. The predominantly liberal side has failed to engage with that call in any sort of meaningful theological sense, instead deferring to secular ethics. And the conservative side has failed to engage with the same call period. As Fr. Lee points out, we are called to be like the God who sides with the oppressed. This identity is rooted in a distinctly theological claim.

And I look at the dismissal which concludes every Divine Service: "Go in peace. Serve the Lord." This isn't just a means of telling people that the Mass is over but rather of sending them forward as a people hoping in and proclaiming the Resurrection in thought, word, and deed. We are sent out to strive for justice. We are an apostolic Church; yes, this means we share the faith of the Apostles, but also that we participate in their sending. The very word "apostle" means "one who is sent out." We, as the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church are sent into the world to proclaim the news of a Risen Savior and to live into the new reality.

Towards a Catholic Roman Church

I often tell people that I'm on the catholic side of the Lutheran tradition -- looking from Augsburg to Rome, or perhaps swimming in the Tiber.

I'm also asked why I'm a Lutheran instead of a Roman Catholic, given my passionately high view of the Sacraments and liturgy, my lofty ecclesiology, favor for Tradition in addition to Scripture, etc.

The easy answer to that question is that I'm married but still feel called to ordained ministry. Because those are (almost) mutually exclusive* options for Roman Catholics, I decided to keep my affiliation north of the Alps.

There are, though, other issues I care about which prevent me from crossing the Tiber: admitting all baptized Christians to the Altar, ordination of women, and treatment of LGBT Christians.

As much as I respect the current Bishop of Rome, and as much as I long to see the Protestant and Catholic traditions reconciled, I also recognize that these issues will continue to divide us.

There has been movement towards reconciliation, and we should celebrate that movement. The ELCA Presiding Bishop has met with Pope Francis at the Vatican, and she is committed to interdenominational dialog. (Of course, her husband is a priest in the Episcopal Church, so dinner with the family is an ecumenical event in her household.) Along with the "Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification" and "From Conflict to Communion," these are hopeful signs.

As Il Papa prepared to arrive in Cuba and the US, a retired bishop in California stirred the waters by calling for women's ordination and an end to clerical celibacy. He asks not just for a papal declaration but fore a new council, a Vatican III. (For a more detailed explanation, check out the Jesuit magazine, America's article on the topic.)

With Bishop Quinn's op ed, NPR thought it a good time to remind their audience that some parts of the Catholic Church have already started ordaining women -- but that they have also been met with excommunication. Outside of the "independent" Catholic communities (an oxymoron if ever there was one, valid though their goals may be), the Old Catholic tradition -- those who broke off after Vatican I -- do allow married and women clergy, and they have gone through the same growing pains as the ELCA, PC(USA), and Episcopal Church over the issue of LGBT inclusion. (Unfortunately, they lack a strong presence in the US.)

What's it going to take? When can we hope for a truly catholic Church? Will Augsburg, Rome, and Canterbury ever reunite? (To say nothing of Geneva and the East.) Not until we are willing to recognize each other's clergy. If I may be so bold, the stumbling block on this issue is in Rome.

As much as I long for a full reconciliation between the divided Western Church, I must admit I do not see it happening in my lifetime.

There is one sign, though, of things to come for which I truly hope, one indicator that we are moving in the right direction, towards unity, which will precede all others, and may occur before I die.

Before any other move towards unity, we must -- and will -- come together around the Eucharist which will be open to all baptized Christians.

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*Priests in certain Eastern Catholic rites may be married. So may Anglican priests who become Catholic under provisions set up by St. John Paul II and Benedict XVI. These priests are fully in communion with the Bishop of Rome.

What Good Is the Goose?

The final entry in my series of reflections on the Wild Goose Festival.

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I occasionally tend towards hyprer-criticism. I realize my posts on the Wild Goose Festival might make it sound like I didn't enjoy the updated camp meetin'. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Or perhaps it sounds as if I'm tired of progressive Christianity and its insistence on social justice and hospitality. Again, that's not the case.

I came back from Hot Springs excited to shower, sleep in my bed, see my wife, and eat something not cooked outside, but also excited for the future of the Church.

I came home excited to go back to the Goose in coming years.

Why am I so critical of Wild Goose, then? Because the festival, its organizers, and its presenters can handle the criticism. More than that, they appreciate, listen to, and incorporate the criticism. There is a shared hope that the festival can and will improve.

But I have to say, the festival is in a pretty good place already.

It's a place where people live into a economic of God's abundant provision - where a group shares meals - three of them a day - with strangers and asks only for donations, trusting that they'll receive what they need to do it all again next year.

It's a place where Catholics celebrate the Mass with an open table.

It's a place where liberation of the oppressed is proclaimed.

It's a place where critical self-examination is not just about individuals but about entire systems - including the featival itself.

It's a place where children, adults, and the elderly talk and think together as teach each other.

It's a place where care for creation is the norm.

It's a place where, in Christ, ALL welcome each other regardless of gender identity, sexually orientation, political affiliation, or race. All are unique but also one in Christ.

It's a place that looks a lot like what the Church should be, where we come together in all of our brokenness, in all of our healing, with all of our ideas, and listen to the Holy Spirit.

Proof in the Pudding: Wild Goose and Critical Self-Awareness

Part VI in a series of reflections on the Wild Goose Festival

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"What are we doing, and how well are we doing it?"

This question should probably run through everybody's mind at some point -- constantly.

To put it in theological terms, it's Luther's first and second uses of the Law. What should society look like? (Use #1) Are we living up to that standard? (Use #2; The answer, of course, is no.)

It's this question that sends us to our knees at the beginning of every single Mass. We know that we have sinned against God and neighbor in "thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone."

Critical self-awareness is one of the great gifts to humanity. We know that we are, but we also know that we are not perfect. Whether or not someone is willing to term this lack of perfection "sin," there is no denying that we as a species and as individuals do not always behave the way we are meant to.

We are capable of seeing our own faults, and we can strive to do better.

As Frank Schaeffer fielded questions from the literal field he was addressing, someone asked about the role of Latino/a voices at Wild Goose. And it hit me: Oh. Yeah. I guess I really haven't seen or heard many Hispanic voices in this conversation. A few, to be sure, and a Native American presenter. But not many people from Global South at all.

And, come to think of it, there aren't many non-white people here as attendees. A few, but not many.

This year, Wild Goose gave a platform for many black and queer voices to address white listeners. Instead of coming with answers for the marginalized, the privileged sat and listened.

To be sure, Wild Goose is a unique place. Progressive Christians come together and listen more than they speak. They question more than they declare. These are good qualities to bring to a conversation. And in doing so, the festival is a place where people acknowledge their own faults and failings. It's a place where someone is not afraid to ask a keynote speaker if the festival itself -- much beloved by attendees -- is a little too "bobo" (bourgeois-bohemian -- think hipsters wearing their $200 consignment store pants and typing on their MacBooks while drinking PBR and living in a yet-to-be gentrified part of town).

The sad fact, though, is that Wild Goose is still mostly white, middle class people taking a long weekend to camp in the woods. A fun time, and a productive time -- I dare not suggest that thinking is bad. Nor am I so cynical as to believe that people will leave the campground behind and return to their parishes with little more than warmed hearts. But I do have to wonder what is next for many of the people I lived next to for the weekend. What will they do when they get back home? How will their parishes be changed?

I suspect that one of the great indicators of how successful Wild Goose has been is how Wild Goose will change in the future. If our four days of thought actually produce the change we want to see in the world, what voices will we invite to the Goose next year? What speakers from the developing world will be invited? What speakers will come and bring a challenging world? Voices from Africa, the Caribbean, Asia, and South America?

But more importantly, what will we do if these voices bring a word that challenges our middle class white theology? We've learned to charitably disagree with ourselves, but can we bring that same love and understanding when we disagree with those not like us?

Progressive Vs. Emergent

I realized while writing my post on constructing a progressive Christian identity, I used the term "progressive Christian." (And did it again while trying to summarize the original post.)

What do I mean?

Largely, I mean "emergent," but without the baggage.

If we're being honest, emergent/emergence Christianity was never what it set out to be. I recall one blogger once described the situation this way (I have to paraphrase, because I have no clue who said it on which blog): 

If you went into a mall and asked for all of the emergent Christians to report to the Starbucks, you'd end up with a bunch of fifty-year-old white men and maybe a handful of other folks. The rest of the Christians who embody what is meant by "emergent" would still be wandering around elsewhere.

The original author of that quip, writing about a decade ago, was trying to describe the Brian McLaren types. No offense to Brian, but the Millenial and Gen X Christians were too busy being emergent to actually assign ourselves a label. It's a failed title for a successful and on-going identity.

Then there's the other side of the baggage: that emergent Christians are really just closet "seeker-friendly Christians." Or, as a conservative pastor put it, emergent Christians are those who like to light a few candles while they pray. (Driscoll, I think. Sounds like the sort of dismissive language he would use.)

Anyway, when I talk about being a "progressive" Christian, I mean to describe Christians who are generally focused on social justice (though may vote either way at the polls), who are either supportive of full LGBT inclusion in the Church or open to dialog and a certain amount of charitable tension, and who are open to a variety of Scriptural interpretations.  Progressive Christians tend to value the Creeds over (though not against) denominational doctrine, and we also tend to incorporate sources of authority in addition to Scripture. They may or may not have come from conservative or fundamentalist backgrounds, they may or may not belong to a set denomination,  and they or may not support use of the liturgy -- in some form or fashion.

I can think of any number of progressive Christians who were raised in historically open and/or liberal denominations (the UCC and certain parts of the mainline), mainline denominations (the Episcopal Church, ELCA, UMC, PCUSA, CBF), and many who have left conservative and fundamentalist denominations (the LCMS, PCA, SBC). There are some who are from non-Protestant traditions (Catholics and Pentecostals -- and if I knew enough Orthodox, I'm sure I'd find some progressives there, too).

Wait, There Were Condoms at Wild Goose?

Part V in a series of reflections on Wild Goose

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So apparently I missed this (or click here for a more reasoned summary of the situation). I didn't even hear about this non-event until I had been home a week.

And I wasn't alone. Not many people mentioned the punny condom wrappers. Actually, I didn't hear anyone mention them. Not even in a "Ha ha, did you year about the Chicago Seminary handouts?" Nobody mentioned it in any of the talks I attended. None of the musicians mentioned it in the sets I heard. Nobody mentioned it during the Catholic Mass. Nobody came up to the ELCA hospitality tent and said, "Well, the UCC is giving out condoms. You have anything better than water?"

I did not hear a single reference to the "souvenirs."

And to tell the truth, I'm not especially offended by it.

Granted, the pun is not in particularly good taste, but several news articles get the story wrong -- that is, they intentionally misrepresent what happened.

Bethany Blankley (the first link in this post) writes:

At last week’s 2015 Wild Goose Festival attendees received condom packages designed with a colored image of a rainbow flame, an LGBT variation of the UCC’s logo.

As an attendee, I did not receive a condom. It was not distributed with the wristbands, at the beer tent, with the parking passes, or the festival programs. The seminary distributed them at their information booth set up at one of the festival tents. The seminary was a festival sponsor, but their actions do not represent the convictions of the Wild Goose Festival, its attendees, or its advisory board. So did any attendees receive condoms? Most likely. But it was not as wide-spread as this reporter makes it seem.

Or this:

In other words, a “Christian” seminary is likening the Second Coming of Christ to gay sex.

No, in other words, a Christian seminary is making a lame pun on the word "coming." The only thing tying this stunt to "gay" is the use of the rainbow coloration for the school's logo. Given that the UCC, with whom Chicago Theological is affiliated, is known for its open and affirming stance, it makes sense.

And, worst of all, there's this:

Only an apostate Christian and apostate church could celebrate or encourage gay sex or orgies. Only an apostate Christian and apostate church could advocate being “LGBTQ friendly.” Apostasy is inherently anti-God.

Besides the myriad problems of claiming that LGBT and ally Christians are "apostate," there is the underlying assumption that promoting safe sex is on par with promoting orgies. It is this same sort of hyperbolic mentality which leads to failed abstinence-only programs in schools. It is this same sort of vitriol that leads to victim-blaming when a person is sexually assaulted.

Distributing condoms does not mean, "Go hook up with anyone." Using birth control does not mean, "Be promiscuous." Advocating the use of prophylactics is equivalent to only one thing: believing that sex has a function outside of procreation and child-rearing.

Perhaps no source misunderstands what happened more than Rod Dreher at The American Conservative. He writes:

I apologize if this offends you. It ought to offend you. But you also ought to know what progressive Christianity finds acceptable. I would love to hear that the organizers at Wild Goose put a stop to distributing these things at the festival. But I doubt that they did.

We orthodox Christians have nothing in common with these people, and ought to get it clear in our heads who the enemies are, and what they stand for. One hardly needs to worry about the UCC; it is declining so rapidly that they will cease to exist in the next 15 to 20 years. Good riddance. Rather pay more attention to those who see no particular problem with their blasphemous radicalism, and who seek to mainstream it into the churches. Church leaders who make room for this garbage under the guise of “relevance” and “inclusiveness” are signing their own death warrant, and the rest of us should give no quarter to this contagion.

This is not about what "progressive Christianity finds acceptable." It's about a bad marketing ploy by one seminary. This is not the best we have to offer; it's the laziest.

But to deny that progressive Christians are orthodox? To flame that we are the enemies, that we stand for something other than the Gospel of our Risen Lord, to call us blasphemous, to call us a contagions? I will not and cannot stand for such vile attacks against me, against my friends, and against how we understand what Christ is calling us to in the world.

Is this promotion in bad taste? Yeah, it is. Am I a little surprised that somebody didn't have second thoughts on it? Yeah, of course.

But what does this mean, really?

I am just as offended by how certain sisters and brothers are reacting as I am by the condoms themselves.

I was at Wild Goose. The air was not filled with the moans of orgiastic hedonism. A haze of marijuana smoke did not hover over the campground. The toilets did not overflow with the vomit of drunkenness.

Instead, kids and families wandered around and played in the river. Songs of praise ascended to the Lord, as did the scent of frankincense from the Episcopal tent's thuribles. People drank a few beers and some whiskey while singing hymns. Bread was broken and wine was shared.

Christians welcomed in those hurt by the Church and those who may never come to share in our baptismal identity, and we discussed what it meant to strive for justice and walk humbly with our God. We examined the problem of violence, racism, and sexism. We wept and laughed together. We considered what it means to seek reconciliation among the Church and among the nations.

So please, for the love of God, let's not focus on one poorly thought out publicity stunt. Let's not concede the day to scandal over "pelvic issues." Let's rejoice that a place like Wild Goose exists, and that it is a brief in-breaking of the Kingdom of God in the Appalachians.

Hallelujah: An Encore

Part IV in my series of reflections on Wild Goose

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Is it possible to copy a piece of culture while still creatively engaging it? Absolutely. If not, what need would we have for covers?

What would we do without Hendrix's versions of the "Star-Spangled Banner" or "All Along the Watchtower"?

Imagine a life without Johnny Cash's rendition of "Hurt".

After all, there are times when covers better convey a song's emotion than the original.

Gungor, a band recently criticised for their willingness to question conservative biblical interpretation, was called back on to stage at the end of their set for an encore. They picked a song which beautifully captures the pathos of many Goose attendees: Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", though their version followed more closely with the Jeff Buckley cover:

This ballad of troubled love told through religious symbolism captures the impassioned anguish and loss felt by so many progressive Christians who have left the conservative side of the Church. Strained and broken friendships and family relationship, the crisis of faith which so frequent precedes the move, the questions of what might have been, the tension, and the freedom.

Maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

 And at the end, all you can do is whisper, "Hallelujah."

Call Off Your Ghost: The Need to Build Our Own Identity

Part III in my series of reflections on the Wild Goose Festival
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Back in my high school days, I only listened to "Christian" music, and I had a Christian-themed parody shirt for every day of the week. I firmly believed that the faithful copycats of the Christian rock industry were every bit as good as the acts they were imitating. Why listen to bands that cuss when there are Christian bands playing nearly-identical songs?

Two caveats: 1) I'm mostly tone-deaf and so any difference in ability was largely lost on me. 2) I'm eternally thankful for bands like Thrice and mewithoutYou who were out there making interesting and thought-provoking music which explored the deeper implications of the Christian faith without sacrificing artistic integrity in the name of mimicking successful mainstream bands.

Like many people who don't go on to be youth pastors, I eventually grew out of that stage. I went to college and realized that maybe Christians actually can engage with the larger cultures around us while contributing to the arts and music without resorting to large-scale pseudo-plagiarism. And maybe, just maybe, Christians could listen to Blink 182 without "backsliding."

I sat in my "Religion and Literature" class with a practicing Catholic professor, and we devoured the works of Toni Morrison, Edgar Allan Poe, Mary Oliver, and many more besides. We discussed the intersection of baptismal and Middle Passage imagery at the beginning of Tar Baby. We debated the importance of food to religious identity and memory in Mirriam's Kitchen. We read about a Baptist-Buddhist and discussed what, exactly, that meant in Dreaming Me.

That class came to define my undergraduate, and the lessons it proved have followed me through the past five years of academic work. Throughout seminary, I became more engaged in the conversation between theology and art, especially insofar as it applies to the liturgy.

Oh how joyous! To find a place of genuine cultural engagement without resulting to imitation. To find a place where faith and creativity met.

This brings me to Wild Goose. How do you describe a weekend-long festival of music, art, and lectures?

"Oh, it's like the Christian Bonnaroo."
"It's like adult Vacation Bible School."
"It's kind of like a merger of church camp meets Woodstock for progressive Christians."

These descriptors, in their own right, did not bother me -- and they still don't, really. Wild Goose is sui generis within American culture. Sure, it's an attempt to replicate the Greenbelt Festival in the UK, but there isn't really a place like it in the US.

What does bother me though, is the way that we -- progressive Christians -- talk about ourselves.

For many of us, we have a background within conservative evangelical culture. Many of us were raised within fundamentalist households and parishes (I hasten to add that I am not in that number). And so, when we try to explain where we are now, the first words out of our mouths usually have to do with where we've been. It makes sense; our identity is bound up in our history. Who we are now depends on who we've been in the past.

Unfortunately, the conversation tends to remain anchored in the past in very unhealthy ways.

One of the biggest complaints progressives have about conservative evangelicals is the evangelical's tendency to define themselves as normative and turn any opposition into the "Other." It's "us" -- the normal, good, God-fearing Christians -- versus "them" -- the atheistic communists, the pagans, and the sodomites. We complain about how conservative evangelicals reduce relationships with their opponents to an "I/it" relationship rather than an "I/Thou" relationship. (Five minutes on Fox News or the comments on a conservative blog will convince you that this is fairly accurate.)

But here's the big confession: we do the same thing. One presenter at Wild Goose, in a presentation of  St. Francis of Assisi and the life of the Church, smugly commented, "Conservatives are great at history. They dominate the field. We need to get better at writing history." One speaker, the son of a prominent conservative theologian, lamented about the presidency of an "EVANGELICAL FOOL!" (emphasis and tone are all his) and about this speaker's days as a harsh, patriarchal Calvinist.

One of the closing bands, by the name of Gungor, performed to a packed main stage. All in all, I liked this band. I really did. But they performed their satirical hit "God is Not a White Man." At the line, "God is not a Republican," the crowd cheered. Fair enough, but this song left me wondering: is this symptomatic of progressive Christianity as a whole? Is this really all that we can say about who we are? It reminded me of the bumper sticker which proclaims, "God is Not a Republican," followed (in much smaller print) by an after thought: "...or a Democrat." (This, of course, is the tame version; others leave off the after thought.)

What is wrong with us? Why must we continuously define ourselves against others? Why do we insist on building an identity by what we are not?

The Church must be built upon or relationship to God and to our neighbors rather than on our relationship to our intellectual opponents. Some might say, "Aren't our intellectual opponents also our neighbors?" To them, I say, yes. Exactly. Let's start treating them as neighbors.

Now certainly our relationship with God informs our relationship to our opponents, and we must be prepared to engage those with whom we disagree. But it is a relationship of love, not enmity.

I firmly believe that we will not make progress until we stop defining ourselves over and against conservatives and secular culture, and until we give up any pretense of being "cool" by copying other cultures. (Sorry, we shouldn't have a "Christian" Bonnaroo or Burning Man.) We must -- MUST -- be holy fools who engage with culture rather than poseurs who mimic that which we don't understand.

Our identity can neither be apophatic nor stolen from somebody else. Our theology cannot be based on negation and claims of what God is not, what the Church is not, and who we are not. We MUST construct an identity based around God's self-revelation.

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The post title is taken from Doomtree collaborator Dessa's song by the same name:

If you're not listening to any of the Doomtree artists, you should be.

A Word from Our Author: My Identity

In many ways, I break the mold of typical progressive Christians. As such, I find it hard to write about the culture from an insider's perspective. Whereas many of my sisters and brothers were brought up in fundamentalist households, I was not. As such, I realize I should probably explain a bit of who I am so that readers might better understand the perspective I bring to my writing:

My parents are United Methodist, and my father is an ordained Elder in Full Connection. This means several things: I am a preacher's kid, and I was raised in a tradition which was open to the ordination of women, biblical criticism, and sources of authority outside of the Bible. My parents keep books by Neil DeGrasse-Tyson and Carl Sagan next to biblical commentaries. My parents encouraged my sister and I to take an interest in the sciences and the arts, and we were encouraged to read as much as we could. I've never been told that I was not allowed to read a certain book. Unlike many people my age, I was allowed to watch The Simpsons growing up.

My father is a military chaplain, which also means a few things. When I was growing up, we moved around a lot, and I was exposed to diversity, both on and off base. I've lived in Germany, visited South Korea, and lived in the Midwest, the Mid-Atlantic, and the South.

Being a chaplain's kid also means that I grew up attending military "general Protestant" chapel services rather than UMC parishes. Military chapels are, in general, more "conservative" then my family, and while I grew up accepting evolution and believing women could be called into the ministry, many of my friends from youth group did not share these convictions. (It was a confusing and lonely time.) The diverse mix of "general" Protestantism has also led to some denominational dysphoria, and it took me several years to find a home within the Church.

Like many young Christians who grew up in the US during the first decade of the 21st century, I grew up believing that being a Christian meant being a patriotic Republican -- not for anything my parents said, but from what I heard being preached by youth pastors, at Christian music festivals, on Christian radio, and from my peers. I started watching Fox News and even the occasional episode of the 700 Club, and thus I found myself in a feedback loop.

Oddly enough, I my eventual exodus from evangelical culture to a now-defunct web forum run by the Assemblies of God. There, I began interacting with high school aged Christians from across the country and from across the theological spectrum. A few Pentecostals and an Anabaptist demonstrated that Christians could think critically and charitably about the role of government in providing for the needs of the poor, and they reminded me that this is part of the missio Dei. Throughout my senior year of high school, I started to reevaluate my hardline Republican stance -- before I ever reached a ballot box.

When I entered college, I enrolled in religion courses. Many people ask me what it was like to study religion at a state school, and I hope that it was no different from studying at a private school. My professors were almost all members of one faith community or another, and they were overwhelmingly Christian (though tended to be from liturgical traditions). At school, and through seminary, I was pushed again -- this time to resolve the tension between academic criticism of the text and the use of Scripture by the faith tradition. (Thankfully, coming from a UMC household, this struggle was not as severe as it could have been.)

And so, when I look back on my youth in the Church, I do have scars, but the they do not run as deep as some of my friends' wounds. Being a middle class white male (hetero- and cis-), my voice has never been seriously oppressed. I have never been the victim of any form of abuse. I have never feared Hell -- well, aside from the year or so when I was reading the Left Behind series. I came to the Church's progressive wing very gently, and I try to keep that in mind when I write about my sisters and brothers still healing from years of pain and anger.

To Be a Peacemaker is to Be Evangelical

Part II in a series of posts on the Wild Goose Festival

Written in advance of the festival in reflection on the theme, "Blessed are the Peacemakers." Originally posted here.

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"What's the ELCA?"

It's a question every Lutheran will be asked at some point, at least outside of Minnesota. The Lutheran tradition is, after all, best analogized with a spilled can of alphabet soup. And for those of us who grew up in different traditions, we all sort of wince when we say, "The EVANGELICAL Lutheran Church in America."

Evangelical: it's a weighted term and yet it hangs in the air. It carries with it four decades of right-wing politics and quasi-religious rhetoric which taught the US that God is a Republican who uses hurricanes to punish cities and tells presidential candidates to run for office. It conjures pictures of street preachers confidently assuring angry crowds that...well, almost everyone is going to hell. In the popular imagination, evangelicals are door-to-door Jesus salesmen.

But I'm not selling a brand-name faith with an eternal warranty. So when I explain what the ELCA is, I hesitate. Why oh why couldn't we have picked a less loaded name?

I could give some long explanation about Lutheran history and denominational mergers or a passionate defense of Luther's original use of the term, both of which explain why we ended up as the ELCA, but there is more to the story. It's about our identity as Christians. We are, after all, an apostolic Church, sent out to proclaim the euangelium, or Gospel (and the root word for evangelism).

We tend to think of evangelism as spreading the right knowledge of how a person gets to Heaven, as though we are teaching a secret password to an exclusive club. Knock on a door, share the Good News, and leave knowing that you've won another soul for Jesus. One more person out of Hell.

But what if we thought of evangelism as inviting people into right relationship with God and, through God, with our sisters and brothers, our neighbors and our enemies? What if evangelism took longer than the few seconds required to hand out a tract? What if we viewed evangelism as accompanying people on their pilgrimage towards God? And what if the Gospel we proclaimed had implications on Earth as well as in Heaven?

The early Church understood evangelism as accompaniment. New Christians were sponsored through a long initiation process which led to the Font and to the Table. They were accompanied through poverty. They were accompanied through prison and martyrdom. This tradition survives, in text if not in practice, through the baptismal liturgies which ask for the entire assembled Body at worship to affirm, on behalf of the entire Church catholic, that they will "support [the newly baptized] and pray for them in their new life in Christ" (Evangelical Lutheran Worship liturgy for Holy Baptism).

It's not a simple promise. It requires that we give of ourselves, to offer love unconditionally and forgiveness abundantly. It requires that we feed the hungry, visit the sick and the imprisoned, clothe the naked, and much, much more. It requires that we weep with those who weep and laugh with those who laugh. That we sow peace where there is anger and violence.

It's a way of understanding evangelism which builds peace by proclaiming the Gospel of Christ's Resurrection and acting out of God's abundant love.

To be evangelical is to be a peacemaker. The one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church is sent out to proclaim the peace of God's Kingdom. May we be blessed in doing so.

A Truly Catholic Liturgy: Sharing the Table

Part I of a series of reflections from the Wild Goose Festival
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I spent the past weekend at the Wild Goose Festival in Hot Springs, North Carolina. Wild Goose is a celebration of the intersection between progressive politics and spirituality -- largely from the perspective of post-Evangelical North American Christianity. It's the sort of place where people, without any small talk, immediately begin sharing their stories of hurt and, at times, abuse in the Church and how they've come to find love and acceptance within the same Church (though certainly within a different parish or denomination). It's the sort of place where people give away free food to their fellow campers, where bottles of bourbon are passed like the Pax, and where disagreements become charitable and edifying conversation.

As I prepared for the weekend, looking over the schedule of performances and presentations, I noticed an hour-long block scheduled for Saturday night: "7:00 PM -- Liturgy: Roman Catholic Mass, Justice Tent."

Immediately, I asked the question. With everything that I've heard about Wild Goose and the type of people who attend, would this be an open table? Would I, a Lutheran, be invited to share the Body of Christ? To drink from the Cup of Salvation?

On to my calendar it went, and I looked forward to it all weekend. When people in my group asked me what I was planning on doing that night, I excitedly told them, "Oh, there's a Catholic Mass tonight."

And then they asked me the other question. "You won't be able to take Communion, will you?"

"I don't know. I mean, officially, no. But if there's ever going to be an open table, it's going to be here."

With no small amount of skepticism, my friends saw me off on Saturday night. I found the tent and stood around awkwardly while people filed in. We moved some chairs around to encircle the make-shift Altar as the priest prepared the chalice and paten. We sat as he welcomed us and said the words I'd been waiting for: "This is an open table."

The liturgy started, and I knew the words (with, granted, a few minor changes in phrasing). I could participate.

And then we got to the sermon. The priest read the Gospel and told us he had nothing to add. It was a festival of teaching, and he wanted to know what we had heard among the tents and tables. What were we picking up in this place that we would carry back to our parishes. People shared in the communal homily.

We celebrated the Eucharist. The priest prayed the Canon, we offered our Amen, and the paten was passed, from person to person. And then the chalice. We were all serving each other at the Altar. We were all the Body of Christ.

When the Sacrament got to me, I shared with my Roman brothers and sisters. The five-hundred-year schism between Rome and Augsburg was, for a moment, healed. Through the Eucharist, we participated in a proleptic vision of God's Kingdom. There was neither Greek nor Jew, male nor female, slave nor free, Protestant nor Catholic. We were united into one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. As the grains of wheat, once scattered upon the hill, were gathered to become one bread, so too was the fractured Church united.

After, we were dismissed in peace to love and serve our Lord.

I wandered down to the Episcopal tent and joined in praying Compline.

Gloria in Excelsis Deo.

More Answers for Kevin DeYoung

It's been about two weeks since Kevin DeYoung posted his forty questions over at The Gospel Coalition, and he has not taken up the topic of LGBT Christians or same-sex marriage since (at least, not on TGC). There's no indication that he has read any of the answers provided to his list of questions, but numerous Christian authors have taken up the challenge of publicly discussing the issue.

At Approaching Justice, Dwight Welch responds to the question about convincing Christians in the Global South:

That’s a rather broad statement as there are churches in all three continents which are supportive of LGBT folks. The case I’d make is that we all relate to scripture through a cultural lens. That the scriptures come out of a cultural context. And that there is no perspective that is outside of culture. I’d make the same argument regardless of continent.

John Shore's blog on Patheos takes a more satirical approach by answering each question with his own question:

What verses would you use to show that a marriage between two persons of the same sex cannot adequately depict Christ and the church?

...followed by the more Colbert-esque quips (with DeYoung's original questions, for full context):

19. Do you think close family members should be allowed to get married? Do you think you should be a guest on The Jerry Springer Show? 

20. Should marriage be limited to only two people? Should you replace Jerry on The Jerry Springer Show?

Susan Cottrell at Freed Hearts (also on Patheos) responds to the same question about the Global South:

Surely you are aware that the understanding of homosexuality of Christians in Africa, Asia, and South America is culturally conditioned by American (missionary) Christians??

...and then she offers an answer to DeYoung's request for a definition of "love":

Love is treating others as you want to be treated. (I borrowed that from Jesus and I can think of no better definition.) It includes the idea of showing someone overabundant kindness with no regard or even knowledge of their “sin” or lack thereof. (Think Good Samaritan.)
Perfect love casts out all fear. Love is putting yourself aside for someone else. God is love.

Fellow Candler alum and yet another Patheos blogger, Kimberly Knight, doesn't take the questions on a point-by-point basis, but she does give us the following insight:

You [DeYoung] direct your questions only to open and affirming heterosexual Christians as if there are no LGBT Christians. There are in fact scores and scores of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Christians so to ignore that fact leaves a huge piece of this mysterious puzzle hidden. I am both a lesbian and a Christian so right from the start it seems that you and I are nearly lost to one another. But where there is love and grace, there is hope.

Buzz Dixon of Unfundamentalist Christians, differs from most other writers in that he actually took DeYoung to task on the challenge of citing Scripture (as opposed to Experience and Reason) that changed his mind:

First and foremost, the Golden Rule. The Two Great Commandments, which Jesus quoted directly from Rabbi Hillel, who was no slouch in things Talmudic. John 3:16-17. Jesus’ teachings on eunuchs, who had been banned from communion with Godunder Jewish law, and his teaching that some people are indeed born that way. The woman at the well, who was married and divorced multiple times and currently living out of wedlock with a man, and yet Jesus without judging her used her exactly the way she was to spread his gospel, nor did he demand changes in her status afterwards. Peter’s vision in which God laid aside Moses’ holiness taboos.

 Alise at Knitting Soul (which might also win the category for best blog title) refused to answer DeYoung:

Here’s the thing. I’m out of patience for this. DeYoung asks his 40 questions, but they all boil down to the same thing. Prove that you’re right. Prove that God is on your side. Prove that you deserve what I already have.
I’m tired of it. I’m tired of the assumption that my gay friends are the ones who need to be answering questions. I’m tired of the assumption that they need to justify their faith to those who fancy themselves the gatekeepers of Christianity. I’m tired of the woe are we attitude from those who have been a part of movements to bar LGBTQ people and their allies from leadership positions in the Church, from people whose words have led to legislation imposing jail time, even calling for the execution of gays.

Instead, she boiled it down to a single question:

When are you going to listen to the answers to your questions?

Tobin Grant turned the wheel over to Matthew Vines (author of God and the Gay Christian, to which DeYoung and others have responded with their own published works). Vines also responded with his own list of forty questions (of which the first eight are posted below):

Do you accept that sexual orientation is not a choice?
Do you accept that sexual orientation is highly resistant to attempts to change it?
How many meaningful relationships with lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender (LGBT) people do you have?
How many openly LGBT people would say you are one of their closest friends?
How much time have you spent in one-on-one conversation with LGBT Christians about their faith and sexuality?
Do you accept that heterosexual marriage is not a realistic option for most gay people?
Do you accept that lifelong celibacy is the only valid option for most gay people if all same-sex relationships are sinful?
How many gay brothers and sisters in Christ have you walked with on the path of mandatory celibacy, and for how long?

I must say, if DeYoung responds to any of the posts, if he actually engages in the conversation he claims to want, I hope it is to Vines.

I know there are many other authors who have written in response to DeYoung, and there are many seminarians and pastors out there who could provide a much better response but have opted not to. So instead, here's that clip from West Wing in all of its Sorkin glory.

Standing with Women: Finding a Dog in the Fight

As previously stated, I read too much of what The "Gospel" Coalition puts out. One of their authors recently published a review of Malestrom [sic], a book which applies a feminist hermeneutic to key male figures within the biblical narrative (and is on my reading list). Reviewer Jonathan Parnell starts with the claim:

It wasn’t long into the reading of Malestrom: Manhood Swept Into the Currents of a Changing World before I figured out that I don’t have a dog in this fight.

Never mind that he goes on to express his disdain for a violent and oppressive patriarchy and, thus, to also undercut his own claim to ambivalence. Never mind that Parnell misunderstands feminism to the point that he believes it advocates for female dominance over men, as though patriarchy and feminism are polar opposites. Instead, I want to focus on whether or not a person can remain neutral. For men and women, either we stand with feminist voices, advocating for equality, or we stand against them. Either we speak up for an egalitarian society, or we passively condemn women to the margins by remaining silent -- just as we do by failing to speak out against racism in all its forms, income inequality, and every other form of discrimination.

There is no neutral position. Passive silence is ipso facto a decision against women.

Parnell desperately tries to back-pedal. He denies that he supports patriarchy, but instead paints a picture of complimentarian gender roles:

Follow Jesus—this is where James and I not only have a common enemy in patriarchy, but also a common remedy. In fact, I want to go a step further in explaining more of what following Jesus means. I think a helpful summary of Jesus’s definition of manhood is to “gladly assume sacrificial responsibility.” This sticky phrase captures precisely what Jesus did. He answered God’s call to serve others at enormous cost to himself. Though the calling was hard, he didn’t grumble (Heb. 12:1). Rather than throw around his weight, he made himself nothing (Phil. 2:7). Instead of everyone bowing before his dominion, he put on the apron and washed the dirtiest of feet (John 13:5). When the disciples had been so slow to learn, and would have failed every performance review, Jesus called them his beloved (John 15:13–15). Jesus shows us what manhood is, not by eradicating the role of leadership, but by defining leadership as servanthood.

And this is where I differ from James and the project of Malestrom. Where I define Jesus’s example of manhood in terms of sacrificial leadership, she discourages any specific role (especially leadership) as intrinsic to gender. Both our approaches, I must add, reject patriarchy. If patriarchy (men over women) is one extreme, and feminism (women over men) the other, the egalitarian approach of James attempts an alternative route that has nothing to do with anyone being “over” another.

Therefore, on the grand spectrum, the complementarity approach I advocate isn’t too far from the egalitarian approach of James. Complementarity also doesn’t advocate men over women, and, like the egalitarian approach, men and women are on equal ground. But there’s a crucial distinction. Rather than bleach the differences of the two genders, complementarity shows how they interlock in a beautiful design.

What has traditionally, or patriarchally, been described in the rugged terms of “male dominance” and “female submission” is transformed by complementarity—and practically outworked—as male servanthood and female trust. In other words, it really is like a dance. My wife and I stand shoulder to shoulder, and when we move, we move together. When those moves go well, we both smile. When those moves go bad, I tell her I’m sorry.

Far from patriarchy, and any cultural definition of manhood, the men I know who live this vision take their cues from Jesus. By all means, as James exhorts us, follow Jesus—but as for how that actually looks, there is a better way than what we find in Malestrom.

Again, let us ignore the fact that Christ's example is one for all Christians to follow, that men and women are both called to sacrificial and kenotic love. Let us ignore the history of abuse that has been heaped upon women in the name of "male servanthood and female trust." Instead, I point to this: any system which denies women an active and equal voice in the home, the world, and the Church, is patriarchal. Any system which silences a woman's voice is committing an act of violence. Any system which disavows the full equality of men and women is sin. When Parnell claims that "complementarity" places "men and women...on equal ground," he is either being ignorant or he is lying. Complementarianism is a lie, and it will always be a lie, specifically because it is patriarchal.

And we can either speak out against it, or we can give in through our silence.

There is no other way.

Forty Answers for Forty Questions

I, for some, inexplicable reason, end up reading a lot of stuff from The Gospel Coalition -- more than I would care to read, anyway. Recently, the up-and-coming "young, restless, and Reformed" pastor Kevin DeYoung posed forty questions for Christians in support of gay marriage in the wake of the SCOTUS ruling on Obergefell vs. Hodges.

When reading through the original forty questions, I couldn't tell if DeYoung was being antagonistic (as though these questions don't have answers), snarky (as though anyone who gave serious thought to these questions would surely agree with him), or genuinely curious (as though I should give him the benefit of the doubt...which I suppose I should...). I, for one, am frustrated that so many on the fundamentalist side of the Church assume that their brothers and sisters have not devoted serious and intense theological thought to this issue.

I came across DeYoung's post when a friend shared Ben Irwin's forty answers. As soon as I read the first question in the original post, I thought: I have to provide my own answers. Not because I'm somehow convinced that DeYoung will ever see my blog. Not because I think I can change anyone's mind.

Instead, I offer my answers for the same reason I suspect Irwin did: the Church really doesn't like having these conversations, but we must. There is a deep divide in the Body of Christ, and to heal it, we must first give careful, detailed, charitable, and orthodox voice to every side of the debate. And so, as much as I want to think that DeYoung is being cocky, I'm going to take him at his word. I'm going to respond to these questions as though they are an invitation to dialog rather than an antagonistic shot across the bow.

- - -

Kevin DeYoung: 1. How long have you believed that gay marriage is something to be celebrated?

Answer: I first started to re-asses my stance on same-sex relationships and marriage towards the end of college and came to my current position during seminary. I grew up on and around military bases during the days of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," and so if I knew any LGBT persons growing up, I did not know it. (In high school, there were a few students who identified as LGBT, but I largely ignored the legitimacy of their self-identification. To them, I offer my sincere apology.) During the last year of undergrad, I volunteered at a parish with very open and affirming clergy; they paved the way for me to consider that a Christian could faithfully love and affirm LGBT persons and relationships. At Candler and LTSS, I met a large number of LGBT students sincere in their desire to serve the Triune God and the Church. Many of these students are much better Christians than I will ever be; they understand and live out Christ's concern for those on the margins and for the oppressed in a way that I can only pray to one day experience. Dr. Luke Timothy Johnson also played a major role in my shift, and I commend his writings on the issue. I was pushed to consider the full extent of the Church.

All told, it has been a seven year shift, and I've held my current position for about five years.

2. What Bible verses led you to change your mind?

Here, DeYoung and I part ways. As someone who grew up within the UMC, I carry with me a respect for the Wesleyan Quadrilateral. Like Luther and the Evangelische Reformers, I hold to a view of Scripture as primum verum rather than the sole authority. Therefore, I am open to the role of Reason (as guided by the Holy Spirit) and Experience (mediated through Scripture, Tradition, and Reason) in opening up the mysteries of faith.

To that end, no single passage from the Bible has led me to change my mind. It should be noted, however, that close readings of Sacred Scripture in full historical context are open to interpretation in a way that DeYoung denies. (Irwin's response offers a descent summary of these interpretations.) I might also note that a literal reading of Scripture does not forbid polygamy except for clergy.

3. How would you make a positive case from Scripture that sexual activity between two persons of the same sex is a blessing to be celebrated?

Using the same pericopes used to affirm all sexual activity within the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony. Specifically, I look to readings from Genesis 2, the Song of Songs, Jesus at the wedding in Cana, and the metaphorical language of the Church as the bride of Christ as affirmations of right human sexuality.

4. What verses would you use to show that a marriage between two persons of the same sex can adequately depict Christ and the church?

The same ones DeYoung points to and for the same reasons: the marriage metaphor is not primarily about the physical act of intercourse. Instead, it is about a mutually self-giving love.

I would further point out that heterosexual marriage cannot adequately depict the relationship between Christ and the Church. Humans can only love imperfectly, whereas Christ loves perfectly. If we could love like Christ loves, we wouldn't need Christ.

5. Do you think Jesus would have been okay with homosexual behavior between consenting adults in a committed relationship?

First, why are we discussing Jesus in the past tense? We worship a risen Lord.

If we are, for some reason, distinguishing between the historical Jesus of Nazareth and the Risen Christ, then it is highly unlikely that the Jesus of the first century ever considered same-sex relationships which were consensual and monogamous. Such relationships were rare (though, unlike many of today's thinkers, I am unwilling to say that they did not exist). However, I am generally unwilling to make a distinction between the historical Jesus and the Risen Christ, and I hope that DeYoung would agree with me on that point.

I believe that Jesus celebrates with the Church anytime two people enter into a loving and committed marriage.

6. If so, why did he reassert the Genesis definition of marriage as being one man and one woman?

Christ does not reassert "the Genesis definition of marriage" (and I note that the Genesis definition of marriage is polygamous) but quotes it as the establishment of marriage as a social reality and affirming the permanence of marriage. When he quotes Genesis 2 in the tenth chapter of St. Mark's Gospel, he is not saying, "Only men and women can get married." Instead, he's saying, "People get married. These married people become flesh. They are united in God, and should remain united."

7. When Jesus spoke against porneia what sins do you think he was forbidding?

If I had to use a single word to translate porneia, I would render it "promiscuity." I'm not a Greek scholar, though.

If I had to fill out that translation, I might define it this way: "seeking sexual fulfillment with another person outside the confines of a consensual, healthy, honest, and loving relationship; extending the physical nature of a relationship beyond the emotional, mental, and spiritual commitments within said relationship."

8. If some homosexual behavior is acceptable, how do you understand the sinful “exchange” Paul highlights in Romans 1?

The "traditional" reading of Romans 1 always assumes that the relationships among women and men are "shameful" because they are homosexual. What if it's because the sexual relationships were not monogamous, consensual, or loving? From what we know about same-sex relationships in the first century world, they were almost entirely based around prostitution and an abuse of power dynamics.

9. Do you believe that passages like 1 Corinthians 6:9 and Revelation 21:8 teach that sexual immorality can keep you out of heaven?

No. Not unless the "liars" are kept out of Heaven as well. And if the liars are kept out, what hope is there for any of us?

10. What sexual sins do you think they were referring to?

DeYoung repeatedly asks for a list of sexual sins. I'm going to stick with my definition of porneia from Q7.

11. As you think about the long history of the church and the near universal disapproval of same-sex sexual activity, what do you think you understand about the Bible that Augustine, Aquinas, Calvin, and Luther failed to grasp?

The fruits of biblical criticism over the centuries are incalculable, and modern theologians have built upon the work begun by Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, and yes, even Calvin. We must never assume that our forebears had a perfect understanding of Scripture or of God. They were, after all, human.

Moreover, while I hesitate to say that I better understand Scripture better than Aquinas, I might be so bold as to claim that twenty-first century Christians have a better understanding of same-sex relationships than Christians from centuries past.

12. What arguments would you use to explain to Christians in Africa, Asia, and South America that their understanding of homosexuality is biblically incorrect and your new understanding of homosexuality is not culturally conditioned?

There was a time when European and North American Christians had to convince Christians in Africa that polygamy was unacceptable and "biblically incorrect." I wonder what arguments they used, given that polygamy was practiced among certain African civilizations and within Israelite culture.

Larger issues of sexuality and monogamy aside, I fail to see why different arguments are needed for the Global South than among fundamentalists down the street.

13. Do you think Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama were motivated by personal animus and bigotry when they, for almost all of their lives, defined marriage as a covenant relationship between one man and one woman?

No. Instead, I would suggest that people who oppose same-sex marriage act out of a number of fears and misunderstandings, often sown by Church leaders, which results in biased actions. The bigotry and animus comes from ecclesial and political leaders who fear losing their power and privilege within a changing society.

As to the political aspect, we can only ever speculate about motivations when politicians change and clarify positions. Politicians may publicly deny support for same-sex marriage out of political greed and a thirst for power; they may support same-sex marriage for the same reasons. I care about their motivations, but I do not pretend to know them.

14. Do you think children do best with a mother and a father?

I think children do best with loving parents, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, and a loving community to raise them.

15. If not, what research would you point to in support of that conclusion?

Numerous studies have demonstrated that children of same-sex couples are not any worse off than children from heterosexual couples. What we should be concerned about is that we provide every child the resources needed to thrive; we should care more that a child has three meals a day than that they have two mothers.

16. If yes, does the church or the state have any role to play in promoting or privileging the arrangement that puts children with a mom and a dad?

The Church and the state both have a role to play in providing children with parents or guardians who can provide a safe environment to learn, grow, and thrive.

17. Does the end and purpose of marriage point to something more than an adult’s emotional and sexual fulfillment?

Yes, and we as the Church should also note that it is possible for persons to find fulfillment outside of marriage as well. The Church used to affirm those called to celibacy, and we have unfortunately lost that affirmation (and, more unfortunately, we have also at times forced that call upon the LGBT community).

18. How would you define marriage?

I distinguish between civil and religious marriage. Civil marriage is defined by the state and is marked by certain obligations under the law. Religious marriage, as defined by the Church, is a sacramental union between two consenting adults, pledged in front of and affirmed by both God and the Church, to offer mutual love, support, and care, and, when it is God's will, to raise children. (Note well that same-sex and infertile couples can still raise children.) In this sacrament, the couple practices kentoic love.

19. Do you think close family members should be allowed to get married?

No. Support for same-sex marriage is not the same thing as supporting a pan-sexual free-for-all.

20. Should marriage be limited to only two people?

Legally, yes. Within the Christian tradition, yes.

21. On what basis, if any, would you prevent consenting adults of any relation and of any number from getting married?

Any relation: easy. In-breeding and abuse of familial power.

Any number: legally, to promote the civil benefits of marriage (one designated "next-of-kin" to serve as medical proxy and inheritor of the estate -- with my apologies to lawyers who are probably shuddering at my inaccurate terminology).

Religiously, the Christian Tradition has interpreted marriage as between two people. Within the New Testament canon, monogamy was only ordained for elders and deacons (which, the Tradition has understood as clergy, up until the Reformation). The Tradition later expanded monogamy.

22. Should there be an age requirement in this country for obtaining a marriage license?

Yes, and 18 seems as good a place as any in as far as the US and many other nations have identified it as the "age of majority." I'm not sure why this is an issue, though. Again, support for same-sex marriage is not equivalent with support for any of the "parade of horribles" imagined by certain Supreme Court justices.

23. Does equality entail that anyone wanting to be married should be able to have any meaningful relationship defined as marriage? - and -
24. If not, why not?

This question is poorly conceived, and the answer is "Yes, but also no." For one thing, meaningful relationships are not the same as marriages. I have many meaningful relationships with friends and family as well as with my wife. But my spouse is in a fundamentally different category from my friends and family. I interact with each of those groups differently.

On the no side, there are certain family relationships which already include many of the same benefits of legal marriage. Legally, marriage is about certain tax and medical benefits (along with a long list of things about wills and estates that I don't fully understand) -- a unity within a given household, if you will. Those protections already extend to other legal dependents through different legal means (birth or adoption for children until they reach adulthood).

As for friendship, on the yes side, the state does not check to see if two people of the opposite sex are "in love" before issuing a marriage license. Legally, there is no restriction to prevent a woman (let's call her "Sally") from marrying a man ("Jim") just because Sally and Jim want to share in the copious benefits of being legally marriage.

If, though, DeYoung means something other than a consenting adult human, he is simply traveling further down his slippery slope argument. Marriage requires two humans legally capable of consenting to marriage. By its definition, it excludes animals.

25. Should your brothers and sisters in Christ who disagree with homosexual practice be allowed to exercise their religious beliefs without fear of punishment, retribution, or coercion?

Again, it depends. Nobody is suggesting that a pastor ever be forced to perform a same-sex marriage, even if that person is a chaplain in the employ of the state. If, on the other hand, that person is a judge or clerk, they must be willing to serve all citizens equally. Likewise, I can understand a photographer or musician not being compelled to perform their art at a same-sex wedding ceremony (or a ceremony outside of their religious tradition, for that matter). But a baker cannot refuse to make a cake for a reception -- baking a cake for an after-party is not the same thing as participating in the marriage service itself.

We must also be careful about language of "punishment, retribution, or coercion." Religious persecution is one thing; loss of one's perceived "preferred status" is quite another.

26. Will you speak up for your fellow Christians when their jobs, their accreditation, their reputation, and their freedoms are threatened because of this issue?

If a Christian pastor is ever forced to perform a marriage in direct contradiction to their religious beliefs, I will be among the first in line to protest.

If a Christian baker is boycotted for refusing to bake a cake for a same-sex wedding reception, I will likely join in the boycott.

If either of those Christians comes to me to discuss the issue, I will welcome them in the name of the Lord.

27. Will you speak out against shaming and bullying of all kinds, whether against gays and lesbians or against Evangelicals and Catholics?

If by "shaming and bullying," DeYoung means being unfairly targeted for emotional, verbal, or physical abuse based on adherence to one's identity, then yes. I will stand up against bullying, whether the victim is LGBT or hetero/cis, Christian or any other religion, male or female, nerd or jock. But if he means, "Will you break picket lines?" then I must point back to my answer for Q26.

28. Since the evangelical church has often failed to take unbiblical divorces and other sexual sins seriously, what steps will you take to ensure that gay marriages are healthy and accord with Scriptural principles?

Pre-marital counseling, referral to licensed couples' counselors (if needed), and the full support of the Church are essential for all marriages. I would go further and point out that some times, maintaining a healthy marriage requires that the Church lend financial and material support in addition to emotional and spiritual support for struggling families.

29. Should gay couples in open relationships be subject to church discipline? - and -
30. Is it a sin for LGBT persons to engage in sexual activity outside of marriage?

Adultery is wrong. Adultery is always wrong. The Church does not recognize "consensual" forms of adultery. (And I hasten to define adultery: sexual activity in which a married person commits sexual acts with someone other than his or her spouse.)

As to "sexual activity outside of marriage": "Sexual activity" is difficult to define. Hugs and kisses can be sexual or platonic acts. In keeping with my definition of porneia ("extending the the physical nature of a relationship beyond the emotional, mental, and spiritual commitments within said relationship"), I would say that acts involving the genitalia are reserved for married couples.

31. What will open and affirming churches do to speak prophetically against divorce, fornication, pornography, and adultery wherever they are found?

By affirming a positive image of monogamy and developing a healthy theology of the body and human sexuality. This must be instilled in our youth, which means we must affirm that young women have value outside of their roles as wives and mothers. (We cannot deny that feminist and queer theologies are both linked to developing a robust and positive view of human sexuality.) By affirming and supporting married couples in all ways. And, above all, by offering the grace of Christ to those who fall short of these ideals.

32. If “love wins,” how would you define love?

Love wins because Christ conquered the grave. Thus, love is a self-sacrificial, kenotic activity rooted in the infinite love which is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and expressed perfectly by their relationship. This love is infused to us all by God's grace.

33. What verses would you use to establish that definition?

Genesis 1:1 - Revelation 22:21 -- The entire witness of Scripture testifies to Divine Love.

As to "proof texts," Matthew 22:36-40, John 3:16, 1 Corinthians 13, Galatians 5:14, Philippians 2:7, and 1 John 4:8 are good starting points.

34. How should obedience to God’s commands shape our understanding of love?

Christ came to fulfill the Law. The Law is to love. We are called to be like Christ.

35. Do you believe it is possible to love someone and disagree with important decisions they make?

Yes.

36. If supporting gay marriage is a change for you, has anything else changed in your understanding of faith?

A lot. Faith is dynamic and ever-changing.

37. As an evangelical, how has your support for gay marriage helped you become more passionate about traditional evangelical distinctives like a focus on being born again, the substitutionary sacrifice of Christ on the cross, the total trustworthiness of the Bible, and the urgent need to evangelize the lost?

I'm honestly not sure how to answer this question. For one thing, I'm a Lutheran; when I use the term "Evangelical," I mean it in a completely different way than DeYoung and the folks at The Gospel Coalition. When I speak of being "born again," I'm referring to the Sacrament of Baptism (which has become a lot more important in my theology over the past several years, but is only loosely tied to my views on same-sex marriage). I've actually come to reject the "penal substitution" model of atonement in favor of the more ancient Christus Victor model (unrelated to my view of same-sex marriage; oddly, I think I could make more of a case if I held to penal substitution). DeYoung and I mean different things by "total trustworthiness of the Bible." As to the "urgent need to evangelize the lost," (again, I wouldn't use that term) I find it much more loving to tell people about a God who loves them enough to join them on the margins of society than to tell them of a God who loves them but fundamentally hates who they are.

38. What open and affirming churches would you point to where people are being converted to orthodox Christianity, sinners are being warned of judgment and called to repentance, and missionaries are being sent out to plant churches among unreached peoples?

Many parishes within the Episcopal Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and even a few within the United Methodist Church. Member churches within the Union of Utrect (Old Catholic). There are even a few individual parishes, clergy, and members within the Roman Catholic Church. And because DeYoung is "Reformed," I would be remiss if I didn't point out the Presbyterian Church (USA). Though I doubt he would consider these denominations "orthodox" -- apparently there was a gap in Christian Orthodoxy between the time Paul died and Calvin entered Geneva.

39. Do you hope to be more committed to the church, more committed to Christ, and more committed to the Scriptures in the years ahead?

Yes to all of the above. More so than any other question, this one feels like a slap in the face -- that somehow, DeYoung believes that a Christian cannot answer this question in the affirmative and still affirm LGBT persons and same-sex marriage.

40. When Paul at the end of Romans 1 rebukes “those who practice such things” and those who “give approval to those who practice them,” what sins do you think he has in mind?

...didn't we already cover this one? Cf. Qs 8-10.

- - -

I am curious -- how would other Christians answer these questions?

If you've answered them elsewhere, please, link in the comments below.