Will the Life-affirming Episcopal Shepherds among the United Methodists Please Stand Up?

It’s been an anxious wait for an additional clarifying or temporizing statement to come forth from the United Methodist Council of Bishops, following Thomas Bickerton’s letter of 25 June 2022 on the Dobbs v. Jackson decision overturning Roe v. Wade.  Given that the Council has not issued any additional declarations on the subject, and no bishop (to my knowledge) has stepped forward to distance him- or herself from Bickerton’s statement as the Council’s president, it seems fair to assume that the one letter speaks the collective mind of the Council, at least those who reside in the United States.

The Bickerton letter echoes a charge that the decision “creates ... injustice.”  This is so much hyperventilating. What the high court has really done in the political realm is to commit federalism, returning the debate over abortion law and policy to the people through their elected representatives. But the Church’s role in the conversation must go beyond and transcend politics, important as they are.

Mark Tooley has done good work summarizing the various statements by major denominational agencies [here], and there is no need to cover that ground again.  Likewise, my friend (and now colleague) Matthew Sichel has shown how much daylight separates, on the one hand, the full statements on abortion and the care for those who have experienced abortion that can be found in the United Methodist Book of Discipline, and on the other hand, the letter from the Council of Bishops President.

Two other points beyond what I have found in other statements require an appropriate airing, however, and I propose to state them in summary form here.

First, Bickerton is at pains to lay out the burden that the Dobbs decision (which he never calls by its correct name) imposes on women on the basis of economic circumstances and race – i.e., privilege.  Never addressed, not once, is the other part of the Discipline’s statement which directly voices United Methodist “belief in the sanctity of unborn human life” and the moral obligation to “respect the sacredness of the life and well-being of the mother and the unborn child.”  Thus by omission does Bickerton, speaking on behalf of the bishops of The United Methodist Church, simply negate the very personhood of the unborn child.  The total absence of any statement on their behalf, or nod in the direction of their wellbeing along with the mothers’, the blithe refusal even to name these untold millions as belonging in some sense to the human family and therefore being properly objects of God’s love and proper recipients of human concern and compassion, let alone protection, is callous and chilling.

Early in the statement, Bickerton quotes the preamble to the Social Principles of the church with its acknowledgement of the church’s role “for nurturing human beings into the fullness of their humanity.”  How ironic.  Clearly, those human beings within the bishops’ scope of concern, who are to be assisted in realizing the fulness of their humanity by the faithful, do not include the unborn, whether they be lately conceived, just past the point of quickening, or ready to come to the birth.

Jesus saw and welcomed the little children who came to Him, rebuking His disciples for trying to keep them at a distance.  In a time when the little ones were thought to be of scant importance, he not only noticed but enfolded them.  Our bishops on the other hand, as shown by Bickerton’s statement, don’t even see them.  Where the Social Principles in the Discipline recognize them as children, the bishops act as though they do not even exist, and write them out of the picture altogether by omission.  This is horrendous.

Yet this is not the only problem in the letter.  Bickerton, taking his cue and quoting from the UMC’s Commission on the Status and Role of Women, calls out the disproportionate impact that the Dobbs decision will have, in his view, on the poor and women of color.  Thus the decision is cast as a justice issue of human rights, as it touches on access to abortions.

This all sounds very compassionate until one stops to consider that in the United States, black children are aborted at a proportional rate about four times higher than white children.  If a foreign or domestic enemy were causing a death rate that much higher among people of color, that fact alone would be met with monumental outrage, and justly so.  It would be condemned in strong words like “genocide,” and with justification.  The difference here is that the wound is self-inflicted; the deaths are same.  And Bishop Bickerton, together with COSROW, laments not those deaths nor their disparity between communities, but instead that there is not greater opportunity – greater “means” and “access” for such abortions.

Pregnancy, we often hear, can be dangerous for the expectant mother.  This is true.  Abortion can be, as well, not only physically but also emotionally, with trauma inflicted of long duration.  What is left unsaid is that a completed abortion is 100% fatal for the unborn child.

This speaks to the deep cynicism of using terms like “reproductive healthcare,” which is a double lie.  Abortion “services” are not about reproduction, but exactly about not reproducing.  And there is no benefit to a child who has been killed in the womb and purged from it.  Dress it up how you will, this is not healthcare.  It is death.

Abortion is the negation of the bond between mother and child, which Scripture holds up as highly precious and deeply holy.  This begins in Genesis: Eve’s name signifies that she is the mother of all living.  Hannah conceives the great prophet Samuel as an answer to her prayer; and even after he removed to live a devoted life in the Lord’s tabernacle, her maternal care and ministrations did not cease.  The Blessed Virgin Mary did not seek out motherhood; we might even say that it sought her.  But her fiat – “let it be so” – opened the way for the salvation of humankind.  The Lord Jesus, in turn, was acquiescing to her plea when he performed his first miracle at the Cana wedding.  St. John, who relates that story, also tells us that one of Jesus’ last words from the cross was to entrust her to the care of his beloved disciple even as he hung on the cross: “Behold your mother ... behold your son.”  And in Revelation we find the evil serpent pouring out his rage, seeking to destroy the birthing mother – who represents Mary and the Church – and to devour her child.  Yet Heaven steps in again and again to deliver both child and mother and to thwart the dragon’s designs.  How is it, then, that the bishops’ letter ignores this bond, so clear in the revealed word -- as though it does not even exist?

The Bickerton letter calls on United Methodists to “extend grace, love, sound advice, and an open heart.” This is sound counsel!  But the letter itself does not do that.  There is no grace or love extended to the unborn, no open heart.  How, then, dear bishops, could they receive and accept your “sound advice,” even if they were alive to hear it?

No.  Mother Teresa of Calcutta put it wisely: “By abortion, a mother does not learn to love, but kills even her own child to solve her problems.  And, by abortion, that father is told that he does not have to take any responsibility at all for the child he has brought into this world. ... Any country that accepts abortion is not teaching its people to love, but to use any violence to get what they want.”  Nor should we dream for a minute that the violence which begins in an antiseptic clinic will remain confined to it.

She also said, again correctly: “Human rights are not a privilege conferred by the government. ... The right to life does not depend, and must not be contingent, on the pleasure of anyone else, not even a parent or sovereign.”  Yet the bishops bemoan the fact that the lives of the unborn are no longer solely at the mercy of another person, without recourse or appeal.

The leaders of Church must do better.  Indeed, the genuine, God-anointed shepherds will do better.  Yes, there are “tragic conflicts of life with life” which the Discipline recognizes and which call for Solomonic wisdom, creative courage, and resilient love.  But these tragic conflicts make up a tiny proportion of the situations which lead to abortion.  Our lack of specific information about every case does not require us to act as though they all are such “tragic conflicts.” To the contrary, our respect for life and love of the God who gives it, not to mention our compassion toward both mother and child, will not allow us to default to a laissez-faire stance privileging a godlike individual “choice” that is detached from all moral considerations, social implications, and above all the final, irretrievably destructive impact on one small life.  We must claim a God of universal love for each and every human being, including those yet unborn.

As for our episcopal leaders, those bishops – are there any? – who understand the need of the urgency of the hour must speak up, finding their voice and breaking ranks as needed with those who, like the author of the episcoal letter and those who colluded with him, have decided that the route of less resistance is to offer themselves as acolytes to the culture of death.  They must do better.  Life must be the default position.

And as for the rest of us: We must stand with those who stand for life.

Prince Frederick, Maryland

20 July 2022

Feeling Love and Fencing with Property, Methodist Style

 In the fall of 1964, a young musical duo from Los Angeles made recording history with an R&B ballad that went to the top of the charts in the United States and Britain and for two decades held the distinction of being the most-played number on radio and television.  That song by the Righteous Brothers, “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’,” still has the power to touch heart strings the world over with its evocative blend of lyrics about a love gone sour, perfectly matched to a mournful melody carried off with a then-new “wall of sound” studio backup.  Little wonder it’s been rearranged and covered by other top artists over time, for it captures with crystalline clarity a certain cry of the soul.

It could also make a good theme song for The United Methodist Church in our time.

On 5 April 2022, Bishop LaTrelle Easterling met via Zoom with board members of the Baltimore-Washington chapter of the Wesleyan Covenant Association. At issue was the BW-WCA’s objection to the Bishop’s stated intention of using only the Book of Discipline ¶2553 (as opposed to the much more gracious ¶2548.2), with an added charge of 50 percent of property value, in those instances where churches wish to disaffiliate from the Baltimore-Washington Conference and the UMC for reasons of conscience.  While not disputing that the Conference can add to the provisions laid out in the “Protocol for Reconciliation and Grace Through Separation” for local churches seeking to retain their property, in the spirit of that Protocol and given the Conference’s history of not upholding certain provisions of the Discipline related to ordination, the BW-WCA board stated its collective belief that the additional requirements imposed by the Conference are excessive and punitive.  Most concerning is the imposition of a payment to the Conference of 50 percent of the church’s property value as part of the disaffiliation process.

Bishop Easterling referred to the 50 percent figure as a matter for the Conference’s Board of Trustees to decide, not the Bishop.  While offering to help facilitate a meeting between the BW-WCA board and the Trustees, the Bishop was clear that she would not insert herself into the discussion to advocate one way or another.

At the end of the call, the Bishop excused herself for another meeting.  It turned out that this next call was with the members of the Peninsula-Delaware Conference WCA leadership.  The Pen-Del Conference under its previous bishop had negotiated disaffiliations with no property value repayment requirement: 20 such cases were approved at the 2022 annual conference session alone, all but one being traditionalist churches.  But after an initial resistance toward making a change, the Pen-Del Trustees were persuaded to institute their own 50 percent assessment of property value for disaffiliating churches, the new policy to begin on 1 July 2022.  A WCA source in Pen-Del informs this writer that it was the Bishop who urged that change.  How this bears on the claim that decisions concerning repayment are the responsibility of the Trustees solely, the reader may well decide.

About a month later, on 10 May, a meeting between the Baltimore-Washington Board of Trustees and the BW-WCA board took place via Zoom, with Bishop Easterling also on the call.  One BW-WCA participant described the experience as like that of a principal’s office for a student in trouble.  Perhaps this was to be expected: when a decision like the 50 percent policy is put in place “prayerfully,” as the Trustees insist, with the unanimous support of that same body of Trustees, who can presume to raise questions about the justice of that course?  But we shall.

The Trustees presented several reasons why they felt their ask of 50 percent of property value to be justified.  On the Trustees’ side, several claims were made.  One was that churches seeking to disaffiliate have had the use of the United Methodist name and all that goes with it, such as the cross-and-flame logo.  The argument holds that people looking for a church home see the UM name and symbol, and it attracts them.  

Sadly, this claim isn’t as true as it used to be.  The Methodist name and related symbols might have been a draw in 1950, perhaps even at the time of the merger that formed the current UMC in 1968.  But the reality is much different now.  If the Trustees wish to appeal to an argument about the power of denominational identification, that’s fair.  But to be credible, it would be better to deploy one that’s not a half-century out of date.  

Granted, the situation in some overseas Central Conferences is different.  The UM cross-and-flame logo is a powerful symbol in Africa, for example.  But here on these shores, one should ask just as forcefully how much of a public relations liability the United Methodist name has become, when claiming it as a marketing asset.

The Trustees also point out that the Conference provides pastors to the churches.  This is true.  But if the trend lines for membership and worship attendance are any indication of the effectiveness of more than a few, one might expect a little more modesty concerning just who it was who credentialed and sent them.  It’s also worth noting that the Trustees’ point could be turned around: it is generally the local churches that provide a place of employment with salary and other support for those pastors that the Conference or Districts credential and employ.  Oddly, that detail does not seem to figure as it might in the conversation.

The Trustees also pointed out to the WCA leadership that when the Methodist movement started in Britain, later separating from the Anglicans, it didn’t look to claim property but went out on its own.  Frankly, this is hilarious: people should blush to say things like this.  The Wesleyan societies were organized as what today would be called parachurch bodies.  They were never congregations of the Church of England, even if members of the Methodist societies were for years still communicants in their local parishes.  In a country with a state church like Britain, all church property was under the direct control of the diocese or the occasional patron.  Methodism in Britain was not an established free (independent) church at the time of is separation from Anglicanism; and the Church of England was not organized, built, funded or maintained by free, disestablished congregations, as is the case for American Methodism in all its forms.  To compare the Anglican situation in the eighteenth century with the American context today goes even beyond comparing of apples to oranges.  Think perhaps apples to footballs.

Naturally, the Trust Clause came up in the conversation.  (How could it not?)  In her earlier meeting with WCA leadership, the Bishop observed that the existence of the Trust Clause should be no surprise, especially to clergy, as it has been there since 1968.  A similar point was made in the Trustees-WCA meeting.

Well, then.  That’s a slam dunk, right?  Hardly.

In one sense, the Bishop was more correct than the history she acknowledged: the Trust Clause goes way back before 1968 to the beginning of denominational Methodism in America.  Since the UMC in its Discipline justly claims to be the legal successor of its predecessor Methodist churches going back to the start, all of that history is also on the table, and its origin  was not in 1968 but in 1784.  In fact, the timeline stretches back further still: the roots of our Trust Clause are to be found in the Model Deed from Great Britain.  The Model Deed was John Wesley’s safeguard to protect the movement’s investments in property after the painful experience of the Fetter Lane Society, where asset control (and the related quality control over the preaching and teaching) was lost.  Beginning with the Foundry in London, Wesley made sure his previous mistake wasn’t repeated.  Still, only the immediate purpose of the Model Deed and Trust Clause was to maintain control of the property: it was actually designed to pursue a much deeper purpose, which was to place boundaries around the integrity of Methodism’s teaching and practice.  In other words, it was created to ensure that property would be used for the exclusive, faithful use of congregations loyal to the doctrine and discipline of the church.

Fast-forward to the present.  The BWC landscape is blanketed with property that was provided for at great expense and with much trouble and sacrifice by Methodists across the intervening generations who were faithful to that doctrine and discipline.  Only now, the Trust Clause is being used to bully into submission those congregations who want to retain the doctrine that it was instituted to protect.  These churches resist their annual conference’s pursuit of policies that are the at odds with the Discipline, to say nothing of Scripture, on points of moral teaching.  The Trust Clause has been converted from a safeguard into a bludgeon to compel compliance with Conference actions that have defied the order and discipline of The United Methodist Church.  It is being used to punish them severely if, on the basis of those same doctrines faithfully held, such churches decide to leave what they discern to be a connection whose fidelity to its roots has been seriously compromised.  

Who could have anticipated such a situation?  Who indeed might have foreseen that the very property clause designed to maintain integrity would be used against the faithful who hold to the church’s order and discipline, and in fact have taken them so much to heart that they are willing to sever ties with the denomination rather than abandon them?  The apple has fallen far from the tree of 1784, that the Trust Clause could be made to work this way.

The Trustees have further suggested that, if the traditionalist concern is really a matter of conscience, as opposed to actually being about property and finances, then people are free to go their own way at any time.  There is some truth to this, particularly for the laity.  Clergy have a different kind of skin in the game, with professional investment and economic vulnerability that can make it much harder just to walk away; but at day’s end, no one is locked into a church building or chained to a pulpit.

But aside from being harsh and cynical, this contention of the Trustees is also more than a little superficial.  A proper and faithful theology of wealth can never say, with a toss of the head, “Oh, it’s just money. It’s just property,” as though it really were nothing. (Not incidentally, if that were true, could the Trustees not say it themselves just as easily!)  But let’s set even that aside.  The assets in question are, in many cases, the endowment of generations of faithful Christians.  These resources were donated, raised, or provided with great effort and with real costs to persons and families.  They came into being by the loving sweat of young and old alike across decades, even centuries in some instances.  The use to which they would be put if surrendered, and the ideologies behind that use, are frequently not just somewhat at odds with the hearts that gave it.   They can reflect purposes and goals that are diametrically opposed to, even contemptuous of the vision of the givers of those gifts to the glory of God. Seeking to retain it for faithful use by the continuing body of worshipers in that place, whatever label they bear, is not a function of greed or a matter of convenience for the departing congregation.  It is a recognition that just to surrender these resources, or even a substantial portion, would be ethically problematic, and would testify that the effort, labor, generosity, and love behind those resources it is now a trivial matter at best.  And this would be wrong.

Sometimes, the division of the UMC is compared to a divorce.  There are, after all, divisions of property in a divorce.  (I speak with some experience here.) In such a situation, the aim of any court or judge is to be equitable to both parties.  So why isn’t 50 percent a fair figure?

Consider a hypothetical scenario.  A couple marries.  He has a respected name and worthy reputation.  She is thrilled to be joined to his future, and they start a life together with high hopes.  So in love is she that she doesn’t mind that, while he has the name, she is bringing all the funds – every cent -- that will build their home, and manage their household.  

But then, by degrees, things begin to go sour in their life together.  While she hangs on patiently and hopefully, he begins unilaterally to change the terms of their union, to the point of betraying his promises to her.  Of course, he claims that his understanding has evolved and that he should not be held to such outmoded notions of fidelity.  He begins to criticize her and her view of their life together: he suggests that she is slow-witted, hopelessly old-fashioned, and unattractive, and that she is bad at other things, too, like driving or cooking.  He intimates that she’s not really very smart – kind of dumb, actually -- and will never amount to anything; that everything she’s ever done or achieved is either by accident of the circumstances of her birth, or because she wears his name.  Their children get an earful, too; and by degrees, some of them come around to his point of view.

Anyone in ministry has known of situations similar to this.  They are as heartbreaking as they are unjust, a travesty of the bonds of love and faithfulness that are supposed to undergird a marriage.

So what does she do?  She waits; she pleads; she prays.  She reminds him of their covenant together.  But he has “moved on,” he says; and he does what he wants, because he can.  And when she objects, when she pleads the nature of the sacred bond between them, he tells her she can leave any time she wishes.  Of course, she’ll need to leave everything behind.  His name, first of all, of course; but more than that, everything she brought to the union over the years.  And even though it was her nest egg that provided the family home, she has to leave that, too – though there is one “generous” provision: if she wants to keep the dwelling she has paid for, and the contents thereof, she must pay him an additional half of the value she has already given, and follow the exact process for doing so that he sets out for her.  Else, he keeps it all.

Any reasonable person, particularly someone with a strong sense of justice, would howl with outrage over such an abusive situation in marriage.  Given an opportunity, a good person would use their influence to try to effect a different outcome.  While such an arrangement might be technically legal under a close reading of the laws that pertain, it is anything but just or right.

Yet this is very much the situation in which our traditionalist churches find themselves.  After much patience and prayer amid a deteriorating situation over years, they have determined that their best and most faithful course is to leave a relationship with The United Methodist Church that has become toxic and abusive for them.

The congregations built and purchased the houses of worship to begin with, and have maintained them across time.  Year by year, these congregations financed the continuing ministry, and supported, through their apportionments or “mission shares,” the work of the Annual Conference and the general Church.  They also supported the clergy sent to them.

But the terms of that relationship have been changed by the Conference, which was to have been to them a benevolent partner in their work.  A new pattern has emerged.  The Conference takes actions which are unfaithful to the covenant, doing so knowingly, willingly, and because it can. When the congregants of these churches object, they are given to understand that they just need to grow a bit, to evolve, and not be so backward or slow-witted.  They may have it intimated to them that anything they’ve been able to do is because of the circumstances of their birth, or because they have carried the name: the UMC label.  If they really want to leave, of course, they are able to do so; but they take nothing with them for their re-establishment or support: not the name, not the goods -- unless, of course, they follow a process that has been dictated to them, and pony up another 50 percent of the value they have already raised in real property over the church’s lifetime.

And sadly, some of the same people who would rightly cry, “Injustice!” if the situation were about an actual married couple, find it a perfectly acceptable course when those on the receiving end are a congregation of Christians, fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, who take a different view which they want to hold in peace.  It is a view, in fact, which is actually in keeping with the doctrine of The United Methodist Church, in alignment with its discipline, and faithfully reflects the evangelistic and social-Christianity mission of that denomination stretching back to its beginning.

Such is the case with the Conference’s emergent policies, as evidenced by the tenor and substance of their conversations with the BW-WCA leadership.  What might once have been a spirit of charity expressed amid profound disagreement – “that lovin’ feelin’” that once bound us together – has given way to high-handed hostility on the part of those who claim to speak and stand for an organization that purports to be about spreading God’s love through the Gospel of Christ.

The Trustees also took issue with a BW-WCA board member’s having raised a question about breach of covenant as shown by the ordination of persons who are not eligible under the Discipline.  This aroused some annoyance, it seems, even though the WCA members were clear that the Trustees were not being tasked with that occurrence, which fell under the responsibility of the Board of Ordained Ministry.  “We are all one Conference,” came the reply.  The WCA member was trying to give the Trustees an “out,” but they clearly didn’t want it.

In that case, then, the situation is even clearer, and the remedy suggests itself readily. Since the doctrine of the church is what is upheld by the traditionalists, if anyone should be paying a usage fee for the display of the name and logo, it should be those who are teaching and acting at variance with the Book of Discipline.  That would be the Baltimore-Washington Conference, to the very churches who are upholding the Discipline and who desire to depart.  Any fees should be covered in full by the Conference which is now usurping the use of the name and logo for a different agenda.

A WCA member also questioned the morality of the 50 percent charge.  The Trustees didn’t like that, and indicated that some offense was taken over the question. The Bishop also indicated that it was inappropriate to speak of morality, and hoped that would not come up again.

It is totally understandable, that there would be a desire to avoid speaking of morality on the part of the Conference leadership, because it is on the wrong side of this question.  This is seen from its flagrant violations of the Discipline, from the deceptive misappropriation of Methodist history, and from the fleecing of congregations for resources that the Conference had little, if any, real role in building and yet has been benefiting from since the day that those local churches were first chartered.  It is on the wrong side in the dismissive contempt it has shown to faithful United Methodists who choose to uphold the teaching represented by the Book of Discipline, and in the leadership’s insinuation of sub-Christian motives on the part of those who dare to take a different view.

The BWC’s leadership is on the wrong side in a larger sense, too: not only concerning matters of human sexuality, but also respecting the church catholic’s broader and deeper cherishing of the authority of sacred Scripture back to the witness of the Apostles, and the rooting in the divinely revealed religion of Israel.

So, yes, it’s completely understandable that the leadership should find discussions of morality embarrassing, troubling, and burdensome, and express a powerful desire to avoid them at all costs - understandable, but unsupportable.

The Conference can, and should, yet stand to the full height of its capacity for mercy and peace, availing itself of the wisdom that would come with a more gracious strategy for allowing churches to exit.  Such a plan would rely less on the politics of power and more on the recognition that there are no real winners along a road that can only lead to deepened divisions and a more profound bitterness, as we have seen in other denominational splits in recent years.

My prayer and plea is that the BWC through its committees and officers will do the right thing and abolish the 50 percent penalty, even refunding it to those separated churches that have already paid such a crippling price.

Perhaps in all the controversy, “that lovin’ feelin’” has been lost in the hearts of many, toward those who see the issues before the denomination in ways different from themselves.  But we are all supposed to be grounded in that greater “Love you don’t find everyday,” a love which, even amid sharp disagreement, can find a way to be generous of heart and bless the other as we go in different directions, each convinced that we are following God’s call. That’s how we can even now prove to be “righteous brothers” and “righteous sisters” to one another across the debates and divides, and bless those who find that their local church’s future draws them in a new direction, toward a new expression of Methodism. 

It’s the higher road, for all concerned.  Let’s take it.

                  

Charles L. Harrell

Prince Frederick, Maryland

On the Day of St. Joanna, 27 June 2022

S.D.G.

Note: This post is in reply to the opinion piece by Mr. Thomas Starnes which appeared in the October issue of the Baltimore-Washington Conference Connection.It can be accessed at http://www.bwcumc.org/news-and-views/ums-ask-what-is-doctrine-what-is-law-and-what-is-right/.

DISCIPLINE’S CONNECTING LINK, OUR MORAL IMPASSE, AND WHY WE CAN’T SETTLE FOR “LOCAL OPTIONS”

(A RESPONSE TO TOM STARNES’ “UM’S ASK: WHAT IS DOCTRINE, WHAT IS LAW, AND WHAT IS RIGHT?”)


Thanks to Tom Starnes for his thoughtful and clearly heartfelt piece on the current state of division in the UMC, in the context of the Judicial Council’s review of briefs from the Cal-Pac and Denmark annual conferences (“UM’s ask: What is doctrine, what is law and what is right?”, 4 Oct 2017). Tom’s two (quite similar) amicus briefs – accessible via links from the article on the BWC website – are tightly-reasoned and excellent, even (if I may say so) brilliant. My response here is to his commentary in the Connection and our website.

There are two places where I am in total agreement with Tom. One: the desirability of staying together as a United Methodist Church. I am also saddened by the departure of congregations which have decided that their faithfulness lies outside the connection. Yet I would qualify my own declaration in favor of staying together, since I believe unity to be both real and desirable only if we can remain united with integrity, and with a serious probability being a healthy body. Two: I agree with Tom that the First and Second Restrictive Rules prohibit even General Conference from making changes to our doctrine, except through a deliberately long and laborious process. (UM Constitution, Division Two, Section III, Articles I & II, ¶¶17-18 in BoD 2016; also Division Five, Article I, ¶59.) Not even a “typical” supermajority is sufficient: we could even say it requires a “super-dupermajority”. Such is the sound wisdom of those before us.

Beyond those points of agreement, though – substantive as they are – there are a few places where I respectfully demur from Tom’s analysis and his recommendations, which I think wouldn’t serve the church well.

Between “doctrine” and “law” there is also a middle term that is very important in this conversation: discipline. In everyday use, “discipline” means either behavioral control of self or others (such as a diet); or a force, often unpleasant, imposed from outside (like a traffic summons). But theologically, it’s much richer than either: it’s the linking piece between what we believe and how we govern our life as a church. A little like the drive shaft on a car, it’s what transforms orthodoxy (what we believe) into orthopraxis (how we live that out). It’s the connective tissue between the skeleton of our faith (doctrine) and its visible “skin” in the outer world (witness, including church law). Our church law does lots of duties; one of the important ones is to give definition to how we bring to life this matter of discipline.

Our applied position on human sexuality is not so much a matter of doctrine, as of discipline. It grows out of our consensus understanding of the role and authority of Scripture, which in turn is a matter of doctrine. (A clue to this is the appearance of the word “practice” in ¶304.3.) This doesn’t make the stance unimportant (love it or hate it); but it does mean that it’s an application of something covered by the Restrictive Rule, not the object of that Rule itself. There are many areas of discipline which are settled and very important (and currently un-controversial) guides in the life of our church, even though our perspectives on them have changed historically. These include our opposition to racial and gender discrimination (both chargeable offenses: ¶2702.1k); and our understanding of ordination and the orders of deacon and elder. This last has changed over the course of many of our careers. Still other areas exist that we don’t typically even think about very much but are just assumed, which are also disciplinary rather than doctrinal (but where we disagree with other Christian bodies); for instance, whether clergy may marry and how many times. The discernment between doctrine and discipline is very important here.

Tom also emphasizes that the General Conference (through the Book of Discipline) entrusts the annual conferences with the responsibility for determining the suitability of candidates for ministry. This is true up to a point, but not absolutely so. General Conference has set standards of qualification in terms of education and character, the ability to articulate the faith (through the historical and examination questions given to candidates) and procedures which are to be followed in the credentialing process. (These are to be found in ¶¶304 & 310, for starters.) Annual conference bodies such as the Board of Ordained Ministry can deviate to some degree from these, but only for the purpose of enacting additional standards, not setting aside those mandated by General Conference in our Book of Discipline.

Aside from the way in which this area of discipline gives definition to our doctrine of ministry, there are practical reasons for maintaining denomination-wide standards. One of the most important: we are indeed a global church. Whether across the country or around the world, what does it mean to be a United Methodist? To be UM clergy? In a sense, this is “branding”. But it also speaks more deeply to having a consistent understanding of the role, purpose, and quality of life in ordained service.

There is a second reason for not just relying on the decisions of more local bodies. John Adams, writing as “Novanglus” in 1774, described the American ideal as being “a nation of laws, not of men”. We would put the language differently, and inclusively. Nor was crusty Adams the most popular of the Founders. Yet the principle that all stand equally before the law and are not subject to the whims of tyrants or otherwise powerful people is a sacred ideal in American life, even though it has been, and still is, a struggle to realize it in fact. As in the civil sphere we are governed by statute, and not just the will of those individuals in positions of power, so also we are under the law (or “covenant”, we say) codified in the Discipline and Judicial Council rulings of the church. To leave the implementation of standards around critical issues of any kind absolutely to the interpretation or ideas of a few in leadership, is to change us from a covenantal connection, to a connection of whoever holds the levers of power at a given time. Some may be confident that, were that to happen, their view would prevail either in our conference or across the church as a whole. It might. But, as in secular politics, times change and majorities shift, not always as we might wish. Nor is sexuality the only or last issue that will be critical – and contentious -- in the life of the church. The “lines” and alliances, which array themselves so clearly at the moment, may look very different on other issues. It is better for us to counsel together as a whole body on such important standards, than to leave them to the few and powerful or a localized patchwork. “Trust the clergy”, the gist of Tom’s final argument, is not a sufficient strategy.

Tom’s suggestions also take us in the wrong direction in another way. A sectional patchwork of standards is not the Methodist ethos. We don’t do this on other significant issues; for example, we don’t allow conferences to selectively “opt out” of racial inclusion or women’s ordination (as some other Christian bodies have). Nor should we. Second, we’ve been down the road of sectionalism before, in the years surrounding the schism over slavery before the Civil War. The decision in 1844 to “settle” the fraught issue of human bondage with different standards in different places didn’t work then, and represented an sellout of one of the truest and earliest standards of Wesleyan heritage: abolition. The road back to ostensible reunion in 1939 (“ostensible” because the creation of the Central Jurisdiction really was a new kind of schism), and then to ending open segregation, was long and painful. We haven’t reached perfection yet, as our current conversations on race attest. But the historic complicity of Methodism in systemic racism has made the task harder and more bitter. Let’s not make the different-standards mistake again.

Yet still we have not come to the heart of the matter. The crux of the problem is that we have two competing, and so far irreconcilable, understandings of what is right and wrong, and why: two competing ontologies of virtue. One side (“traditionalists”) believes that certain expressions of sexuality are incorrect and sinful (and therefore harmful); the other (“liberal / progressives”) believes that the “traditional” teachings are incorrect and harmful (some would add, sinful). Given these views, what virtue could there possibly be in a system in which some go one way, some another, with the sanction (read: connivance) of the whole? After all (and I use the labels just for convenience), if the “traditionist” or “rightist” view is wrong and does real harm, how could it possibly be ethical to do other than to correct, challenge, and resist, until all the systemic injustice is eradicated from the system – and then to stand guard so that it never returns? And if the “liberal / progressive” or “leftist” view is wrong, and appears to “baptize” sin, betraying the commission of the church to proclaim the Gospel including Scriptural holiness and healing, how can such a half-way step be in any way faithful? Either way, it is to sanction moral injury as the price of buying quiet – or buying time in the hope of a complete victory -- making both the framers and practitioners of such a policy complicit in terrible injustice. Both the “left” and the “right” must see that the “local option” is a Faustian bargain. It would make us latter-day Esaus, trading the vast birthright of faith and social holiness for a measly pottage that cannot long satisfy anyone.

Sometimes in a family, divisions within a household become so toxic that, much as family members love one another and would like to stay together, they cannot do so and remain healthy and safe. It appears to me, sadly, that we may be rapidly approaching that point as United Methodists, especially when I see what appears to be a de facto schism within, and sense the deep bitterness and divides, including over sexuality. I hope also that we will be able to avert an open break, that we can engage, and with more real grace than we’ve mustered so far. Regardless, the “local option” of which Tom writes is not the way of avoiding a breach, let alone solving it; it merely transfers the pain and sets a bad precedent for resolving other issues as a connection.

Not long ago, I was on a day-long excursion with family in British Columbia that included a visit to a lovely waterfall. Set deep among the ferns and old-growth timber of a northern rainforest, a narrow but mighty cataract plunges 100 feet to its basin below, over eons cutting deep channels in the ledge of rock at its top. Standing on the metal suspension footway that affords an elevated look at the falls from a safe remove, we noticed far below a stout tree trunk which bridged the basin at its outlet, appearing to offer an alternate crossing for the steam. The “bridge” looked too well-positioned to be accidental; yet we could see from where we stood that anyone attempting to use it as a crossing point would end up facing a sheer and slippery rock wall over the turbulent water. Was it possible to cross there? Yes. But then there was no place to go.

The conference-specific or “local option” is, I suggest, like that log crossing. It appears, seductively, to offer a way over the angry and chaotic waters we need to cross. Yet it leads nowhere but to a blind wall from which we must retreat again into our deeper moral commitments, back over the same waters ... or fall from the slippery perch into tortured waters of false choices and short-term “solutions” from which we have had to extract ourselves before.

I am grateful to my brother Tom for his writings and what they show of his heart. Like him, I love Jesus and the Church through which we proclaim Christ as Lord, as well as the genius of Methodism. Thus, respectfully, I hope that we will resist the temptation to take the way that he suggests, and continue to seek the heart of the Lord of the Church for that yet-unseen way that is the true “way forward”.


Charles L. Harrell
Solomons, Maryland
28 October 2017
S.D.G.

VIOLENCE, RIGHTEOUSNESS, A BAPTIST, AND THE COMMUNITY OF FAITH -- Or, (Cautionary) Tales (of Terror)

A great feature of my present position is the ability to visit various congregations in the area at worship, since I don’t have regular leadership responsibilities on the weekends. It is always interesting to experience worship in a different setting, often with a liturgical form that is new to me (or a new take on a familiar form), and to sample participating in the life of a “faith community” for a day, or even just an hour.

Today I had the privilege of worshiping with a denominational church of long standing in my area. There’s always great comfort in familiar ritual, even when the language has been somewhat contemporized; and I must say that, as a visitor, the pastor and other worshipers greeted me with real warmth and friendliness. It was a very pleasant experience.

Yet there was also a troubling aspect to it.

The key Scriptures for the day were from Amos and Ephesians, with the Gospel being Mark’s account of the Herod-Herodias episode where the head of John the Baptist is requested by Herodias’ daughter. As the last was being read, I noticed the words I was hearing didn’t track with what was on the page; my first inclination was to wonder whether the reader’s eyes were giving trouble (seriously, that’s what occurred to me), and the gaps were being filled in ad libidem. After the reading, though, in the message the pastor explained that, for the first time, there had been a request (from whom was not said, but one presumes a denominational leader or agency) to alter the language, in order to tone down the violent imagery in the Gospel passage.

I was taken aback a little at this, though perhaps I should not have been. When we no longer believe that we are accountable to the Bible as the word of God, it’s a short step, having opted rather for the spirit of our own times as the controlling authority, materially to change the words and sense of the text when they are not to our liking. A little more deeply, though, I found myself thinking: “The Scripture doesn’t approve of the Baptist’s demise in this way; in fact, we are shown that it is deeply troubling to John’s disciples, as well as to Jesus – who is described as withdrawing for a time. This is portrayed as a great injustice against a true prophet of God. So just who are we protecting here by whitewashing it?”

The pastor went on to talk about both the Gospel and Old Testament readings in the message, beginning with the latter. The point was made that Amos is the least-preached-on of the prophets. (Really? Less than Obadiah?) In fact, it was said that this might be understandable in some other contexts, such as a Methodist church “where the lines of hierarchy are clear” and the way to advancement and a larger church was not to ruffle too many feathers, so that one might be disinclined to preach on the prophets. A very telling look this was, at my own denomination from the outside, reflecting what I hope is a misapprehension of who we are. Actually, I have heard a number of sermons on the prophets over the years. (There is, at least in my view, a tendency to neglect the Old Testament in our pulpits in favor of a rather parochial and theologically distorting relative overwork of the new, which has consequences – but that’s the stuff of another blog post.) Among the sermons and references to the prophets, Amos has figured prominently ... though again, this may reflect more the preaching I grew up on, than a scientific sampling.

Amos, we were told, threatened the high priest if the people’s ways were not changed. “Tales of terror” were told by the prophet – and we know (it was allowed) that some of these came true. The point, if I was tracking correctly, was that one cannot dismiss the justice of God without consequence. Then the move in the message seemed to be away from such judgmental “tales of terror” to speaking instead such words of counsel which someone is able to hear.

Along the way mention was also made of a denominational meeting where the (retiring) leading officer of that body made the point that if their expression of the Church is to survive, the focus must be on a real commitment to righteousness and justice, allowing church politics to fall away. My skepticism about that last part happening notwithstanding, the focus on a sacrificial commitment to righteousness is on target. But I come immediately to: “Whose definition of righteousness? And what is the actual cost – in personal and societal terms – for realizing it, or if we don’t realize it?”

It is easy to use words like “righteousness” and “terror”. I understand the desire to make the church’s gathering a sanctuary from violence, in a world that is full of it. What is troubling, however, is the move to retreat from discussing these things, even to the point of reworking the sacred text to make it less jarring on the senses. The withdrawal from recognizing and confronting evil and violence (one of its children) does not help in the establishment of justice. Nor, for that matter, to a withdrawal from a recognition that there is such a thing as the wrath of God, and that the Divinity executes justice in our temporal realm, but in personal and in historic terms. This isn’t new to me: I’ve experience resistance, sometimes pretty militant, to naming evil for what it is in other settings in the past.

But the systematization of this reluctance, this squeamishness – to call it for what I think it is – does the Church a disservice on two levels. First, it blurs and muddies the difference between good and evil, right and wrong. Scripture is a lens through which God graces us to see the world in a different, clearer way. But like someone whose color vision has become damaged into grays and browns through the development of cataracts, we can lose the ability to see clearly if we (even perhaps voluntarily, in this case) allow the accretion of other things between us and that lens, or in place of the Bible’s perspective. Second, the Church needs to be prepared. The world is a hostile place to the Gospel, as it always has been in the main. Our own society is becoming less and less friendly, as well. If the Church is serious about pursuing justice and righteousness, then we need to hear and understand the cost we may be asked to pay for that pursuit, and stories like that of John the Baptist’s preaching and his consequent demise, and the message of the prophet Amos, become cautionary tales for the faithful. To miscast them as tales of rigid judgment – tales of terror – blurs the picture and fails to equip the saints.

Or are we to believe that the forces of darkness will just roll over if shamed a little bit by a stern talking-to? (A nice critique of a too-tight reliance on the “just give the word that can be heard and accepted by the recipient” method can be found in King’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail”.)

This morning’s worship had the stateliness and beauty of holy ritual, in a lovely setting with a friendly congregation. And I bless the pastor for the ministry that was offered to me and to all present, including the sharing of Holy Communion. Yet behind the words of the sermon – which was well-crafted and articulate – I detect, even at a wider, general church level – a moral confusion which I think should give us pause, and which fails to use the precious time remaining to get God’s people ready for the storms to come.


Solomons, Maryland
12 July 2015
S.D.G.

“... Holding faith and a good conscience”

Fighting the Good Fight: 1 Timothy 1:19-20

... holding faith and a good conscience. By rejecting this, some have made shipwreck of their faith, among whom are Hymenaeus and Alexander, whom I have handed over to Satan that they may learn not to blaspheme.

The two parts of “waging the good warfare” (or “fighting the good fight”), the Apostle tells us, are holding fast to faith (living trust in our loving, good God) and to a robust conscience (a clear awareness of right and wrong and a humble but committed determination to stay on the correct side of that divide). Note that the word “good” in “good warfare” is kalos, which is the general word for good, but also carries the sense of what is right and fitting. The word “good” in “good conscience” is agathos, which means “worthy”, “upright”, “fertile” – we might say a “clear” conscience, but that really doesn’t catch the full sense. It’s not about a blank rap sheet, so much as a strong and accurate moral compass which (carrying forward the sense of nobility and fertility in the word) has positive effects in the world around us.

What follows is one of those passages which, although nearly a “throwaway” in Paul’s prose, is one of those sit-up-and-take-notice points.

“By rejecting this”. What is the “this”? Some translations actually supply “conscience”; while not wrong, I don’t think that’s sufficient. The “this” is singular, but I take it to refer back to the “holding”. It’s not at all clear what the two persons named, viz., Hymenaeus and Alexander, have done (or failed to do), but the abandonment of conscience and a failure in trust in God go together. Vigorous faith is the foundation of Christian conscience, which is in turn the expression of active trust in the Father.

Now Paul uses an image that should “clear our sinuses”, as a friend of mine likes to say. He refers to the “shipwreck” of faith. Today, we’d be more apt to use an image from aviation or NASCAR like “crash and burn”; but a real shipwreck was just as dramatic, destructive, deadly. A ship hitting shoals in a gale would begin to break up on the rocks, splintering and taking on water. Men would be hurled into the waves, against the rocks, or into the depths of the ship. Rigging and sails, what had been the means of propulsion and movement about the ship, would become webs and cocoons of death. Prisoners and those weighed down by shackles, tackle, or equipment would be lost. Those who did survive faced exposure, hunger, loss of livelihood, financial ruin. The reputation of the captain and owner might also be seriously damaged.

The image is clear: turning away from trust in God and from a strong conscience on the stormy seas of life is inviting disaster. These two have suffered disaster in their discipleship, as a result of their own decisions.

Then more sobering words – shocking, even, from the Apostle: whom I have handed over to Satan that they may learn not to blaspheme.

What do we learn from this?

To blaspheme is to slander God: through abuse of the Name, through slandering or insulting God, by presumptuously arrogating to oneself privileges or titles not given by God, by claiming to have a word of knowledge or prophecy which is one’s own invention and not from God. The ultimate blasphemy is to turn away from grace, and it is for this reason that despair, though pitiable, is also such a serious sin. Again, we don’t know exactly what these two were involved in to trigger this reaction from Paul, but it must have come across as a serious challenge to the glorification of God and the trust of the church.

Second, we see that the consequences are serious, even devastating. “There is no free lunch” is an expression we hear in the business and commercial world; it is also true in the moral universe.

Third, we see the authority of the Church. Paul is able to act through prayer and counsel in a way which exposes Hymenaeus and Alexander to further trial and danger. Most of us in the modern Church are profoundly uncomfortable with such ideas. Yet just as a parent must sometimes punish a child or allow them to suffer the consequences of their actions to help them to learn and grow (painful as it is for the parent!), and just as a counselor or psychologist must allow a client to “hit bottom” and become sufficiently miserable as to motivate positive change, so also in the spiritual realm pain is sometimes the best, even the only, motivator for repentance. Our tendency to jump to shielding persons from the work of God in this way (to use Oswald Chambers’ term, to play at being an “amateur providence”) inhibits, and does not do, the work of God. (Caution: the alternate error, becoming a judgmental, pharisaic person, is just as deadly and just as common.) Paul uses the authority given him, no doubt in prayer, and no doubt with tears, to remove the hedge of protection in the lives of these two persons. I wonder: has the Church abandoned this sense of responsibility for the flock? Is this because of our own compromised bad consciences? Has this worked immeasurable harm to the cause of Christ and the work of building people up in the faith?

Fourth, we see the ultimate redemptive purpose of discipline in the Body. Paul doesn’t say, “They’re going to hell” – though, presumably, that could be the ultimate outcome. Rather, he focuses on their “learning”, on their present predicament being a means of growth and, ultimately, recovery. In this, Paul reflects the Gospel message that God’s intention toward us, though we deserve judgment and punishment, is grace.


Lord, it is a sobering thing to fall under discipline. More sobering, though, would be not to do so, not to feel Your guiding, restraining, correcting hand in our lives. Teach us both responsiveness to you, and the true yearning over the lives and souls of others, that we may not be inert but rather robust in our care of the flock of God, whether as members of that flock or as undershepherds of Yours. For the love, cause, and in the Spirit of Christ, amen.



(Lusby, Maryland)

“Wage the good warfare” (part 2)

WHAT IS THIS “GOOD WARFARE”? (1 Tm 1:18, part 3)

What is the “good warfare”? To what can we compare it?

Across thousands of years, leaders and countries have made great, heroic, sometimes ludicrous efforts to make their conflicts appear just. In the American Civil War, both sides prayed to the same God for victory in arms. Even the Nazis tipped their hats to this principle, going so far as to stage a phony attack on a radio tower in a border city as the “justification” to start a ground war in Europe.

We need to be on guard, though, lest the cynical acts of others make us cynical as well. History does provide examples of struggles against tyranny, battles to liberate oppressed peoples and endangered communities, conflicts begun with dubious motives but the end of which occasions much good. Much of the best Christian teaching recognizes the principle of “just war” engaged in righteously and rightly, if reluctantly.

This is not even to mention moral campaigns such as the “war on poverty”, “war on drugs”, “war on terror”, the civil rights struggle and the battles against ills such as illiteracy and obesity.

Struggle, it turns out, is a normal, even necessary, part of life. It is with struggle and strain that we are born into the world and see our first light of day. Too-easy deliverance from struggle can even be harmful, such as for the animal who is helped to break out of its egg, and whose ability to fight to survive is compromised thereby. And some of our nouns representing the most noble traits and qualities were themselves born in struggle: hero. Duty. Valor. Virtue.

In annals, story, and song ... in sources as disparate as Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage and “The Ballad of Private Rodger Young”, it is not the one who has nothing to live for or who knows no fear, but the one who has his or her whole life ahead and future at stake, who may feel that he or she has every good reason to flee the battle and turn their back on the fray, yet who is drawn or driven on by something higher, deeper, more important than one’s own existence, who is valorous.

What Paul is speaking to here is the passion of the quest. Paul recognized it in Timothy, saw a reflection of his own “upward calling”, that prize to which all else was subordinate, the struggle of most supreme importance that claims even one’s life.

The question for each of us, daily, is: have I given myself fully to the quest? Am I waging the good warfare?


Lord, remembering that the race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong, nor riches to the wise, let my life’s energies be bent with all my strength to the quest and struggle for Your Kingdom. Let whatever lack there is in my swiftness, or strength, or resources be supplied by Your goodness. Let my heart’s cry be for that which is most important to You. In Christ, Amen.



Romulus, Michigan (DTW)

"Wage the good warfare”

CLARITY, DISCIPLINE, AND SACRIFICE: 1 Timothy 1:18 (part 2)

The Apostle calls his young charge to “wage the good warfare”. Military imagery – which Paul uses often – is out of fashion in many quarters today. Still, it’s quite apt for the Christian journey, beset as it is with problems, opposition, and the need for continuous focused effort. This is all the more true for those exercising leadership in the body of Christ.

What are some of the characteristics of this “good warfare”?

Clarity. A clear, precise battle plan, taking into consideration not only troop movements and the probabilities of enemy responses, but also capacity, supply, endurance and potential political and noncombatant complications, is essential. Are we as disciples clear on our purpose and mission? If we are leading others, is it seat-of-the-pants or week-to-week, or do we have a sense of the direction in which God is guiding and how our following should be lived out? I believe that if we’re putting more time and thought into our vacation, career, or dinner plans than we are into our discipleship, then the Holy Spirit is urgently calling us to take another, more careful look.

Discipline. Indiscipline yields negative results. In a sport, I lose the game – or at a minimum, Coach yells at me. Taking a class, I get a bad grade. Eat unhealthily and don’t exercise, and I feel bad, get gluey stuff in my arteries ... and maybe keel over at an early age. Spiritual indiscipline is no less a problem, even if the results can take time to show up.

In the military, the disciplines of rank, regulations and training serve a purpose: to keep the soldier alive and make him or her an effective weapon against the enemy. As disciples, we being molded into instruments that fight evil in the world and seek to establish God’s righteous, life-giving policy (i.e., the Kingdom of God).

Sacrifice. For the serviceman/-woman, distance from family, limited comforts, even privations and perhaps injury or even death are part of the service rendered for the sake of duty to one’s country. In every age this has been true, whether the “heat and burden of the day” has been borne for the Senate and People of Rome, King and Country, or the Flag and Constitution. Ultimately, indeed, every fight is for home and hearth and the ideal of one’s native land.

Recently, I’ve been reading a bit on the American Civil War, and retracing the steps of the Confederate cabinet after its flight from Richmond. Gradually, travel became harder, supplies less certain, dangers more oppressive, and even formerly rebel-aligned cities began to make their former leaders unwelcome. Yet with courage and equanimity, and even good humor, they bore all this for the sake of “the Cause”. If they could bear such things for a cause which history has shown to be defective (in fact, I think it was awful on a number of levels), how much more should I, a citizen of a vastly nobler Homeland, be willing to bear for its sake and the sake of my King!

There is of course one more aspect to warfare: allegiance. We have to know whose side we’re on, and live with full loyalty, to “the last full measure of devotion” as President Lincoln put it. This is both simpler, and more intricate, than we typically make it out to be.

On the way here, I was waiting in line at the airport in front of an enlisted man en route to his duty station. From his insignia, I could see that he was one of ours (i.e., a U.S. soldier), and also could clearly see his name and rank. This gave me the opportunity to thank him for his service. Gratitude aside, can others observing us clearly see both our allegiance and our identity in Christ?


Lord, you have called me to wage a sustained fight for You. Help me to do so with clarity and discipline, despising and bearing patiently the sacrifices, and with full and loyal allegiance. Help me to remember also that my fight is “not against flesh and blood”, and to need to approval beyond Your own. In Your hold Name. Amen.


Ellensburg, Washington (Lazy F Camp)