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These are fantastic, articulate questions.

I brewed myself a strong cup of coffee, and sat down to settle into it.

1. Your distinction between “reacting” and “responding” intrigues me.

Reacting reminds me of what reptiles do well. They tend not to thoughtfully consider situations, options, motivations, and complexities.

Responding suggests more of an evaluated reply.

As I read the reports of Anne Rice’s departure with your question in mind, I found that on the surface she appeared to “respond.” She spoke of having deliberated for some time about this move, and that there was indeed wrestling involved.

However, her reasons for leaving were stunningly simplistic. To be sure, one can find examples of precisely what she is naming: sexism, prejudice against homosexuals, close-minded and dogmatic thinking.

But two thoughts came to mind:

a) that sort of thinking is surely also to be found in the secular world;

b) that sort of thinking is surely not to be found across the board within the Church.

I was struck with the irony that her decision came not long after my tradition, the ELCA, voted to welcome gays and lesbians in relationship. An interviewer brought this point up to her. She replied that although she was pleased with the vote, she needed to “walk away from the whole controversy, the whole conversation.”

I appreciate fatigue, truly I do. And I appreciate disgust even at the Church, truly I do.

But I don’t appreciate blanket statements so very much.

There is much that the Church has done and continues to do that deserves righteous indignation. But one appears awfully simplistic and judgmental if one suggests that these acts define the Church through and through, and that one somehow is above reproach enough to find something better….alone….without the interference of relating to others….because that always muddies the waters.

Really, I wondered if she knows of Jim Wallis and Sojourners, or of the recent UCC ad that suggests anything but stodgy thinking.

2. There are some parallels, I suppose, to Anne and Martin. Martin left because he thought that the pope usurped his appropriate powers, and he felt that the Church’s teachings were skewed.

But there are some key differences:

a) He did not want to leave. What he wanted to do, despite all of the muck and frustration and danger and anger, was to stick around and reform the Church.

b) Once he left, he did not retreat to a private corner, or shake the dust off of his shoes and blast the entire Church. He set out to build up a new way of being Church.

I really really understand why a person would want to leave the Church. The Church can be clumsy, capricious, and downright wrong.

But it is indeed hard to remain a Christian and not be part of a Christian community, for a couple of reasons.

a) Jesus did not just come for me. Jesus came for the entire world.

I respect a private faith as much as I respect indignation at the Church! There are good reasons to be so frustrated that one walks away! And there are good reasons to craft a deeply personal, private faith. That is not the point.

The danger is that one establishes an “exclusivity” with Jesus, and assumes that whatever one has going on privately with Jesus is way better than what those church-goers are up to, do the degree that one doesn’t need others for one’s own faith.

I’m not so convinced that that is true.

b) Connected with that is the reality that we are all fallible. Community (granted, a healthy community) helps us think through matters collectively and conversationally, so that one doesn’t become navel-gazingly arrogant.

See, I know of specific congregations who would largely agree with Anne Rice’s perspective, and I think that both she and these other gatherings of people suffer the loss of that possible relationship.

I must add, however, that there is a reason that denominations are suffering such attrition these days. We have too often made ourselves and our message irrelevant and/or archaic. Ann speaks a prophetic voice to us, and that ought not be missed in this dust-up.

3. There are reasons to leave certain doctrines and denominations which uphold them.

Although, as I’ve made clear in other blogs, I actively supported (and still do) the recent ELCA decision on the ordination of gays and lesbians in relationship, I understand better the grief and anger of those who are leaving if I imagine how I would respond were the ELCA to withdraw the validity of women’s ordination.

To be in relationship with anyone–person or institution–necessitates a fine balance of humility and principle.

If one concedes that no one–including oneself–is perfect, then one greets frustrating exchanges with more compassion and less haughtiness.

Still, there is a reason why I am ELCA Lutheran, and not Missouri Synod, for example, or Roman Catholic, or Jewish. There are some things I hold to be central, and the ELCA folks seem to resonate with my convictions more than do other traditions. So I suppose I have, to use your language, left those doctrines.

But were I to blast these other traditions with a wide swath of disgust, I would not only ensure that present conversations would cease, I would also guarantee that further conversations would be that much more difficult.

And I would do a fine job of making clear that I am certain that I cannot be wrong, and am always right…or at least on balance right-er than these other misguided or ignorant people in the other pews.

So. A first run at your question(s).

In short, I have felt most every one of Anne Rice’s frustrations. But I’m not sure that leaving the Church with a generalized Pox on the House is helpful, accurate, or fair.

I’m eager to hear if you have some follow-up!

Anna

It’s not even particularly theological.

One of the troubles with many conversations about homosexuality is that the conversation is reduced to sex.

This tendency shows forth in a variety of ways: the previous ELCA policy which allowed gays and lesbians to be pastors as long as they weren’t in a relationship; the notion that homosexuality is sinful and must not “be acted upon;” the idea that one can “love the sinner but hate the sin,” the sin being, of course, physical intimacy.

Obviously, what makes the difference between “just friends” and “boyfriend/girlfriend/lovers/spouses” (gosh, that sounds jr. high-ish) is that there is some level of touch. Sexuality is part of the equation. And clearly sexual expression is to be taken seriously.

But I think that it is also true that touch, even something as simple as a gentle pat on the back, or sitting with arms touching each other on the couch watching a game, has some element of sexual intimacy to it. And I believe even tame sexual expression to be a natural and healthy demonstration of mutuality, of trust, of shared experiences, of affection, or of love. And aren’t even more intimate expressions of love binding and celebratory of the gift of relationship?

So, in addition to coming to a different theological conclusion than those who oppose the recent ELCA decision, there’s another dimension of my position:

I fear that forced celibacy translates into forced isolation.

I fear that to forbid touch is to encourage loneliness, despair, and alienation.

I fear that this is a terribly cruel prohibition for those who are not called to celibacy.

I fear that when gays and lesbians are told that “they can be gay” but “they may not show it,” gays and lesbians are implicitly being told that they are not allowed even the most mundane, common, garden-variety joys of companionship.

Healthy relationships manifest healthy touch.

So while obviously the notion of healthy sexuality must be addressed in the context of the conversation, it ought not be the conversation.

I doubt that the fundamental cornerstone of committed homosexual relationships is really sex per se…any more than it is amongst heterosexual counterparts.

Instead, I venture to throw out there that the fundamental cornerstone of committed homosexual relationships is cooking together, traveling together, balancing the checkbook together, going to movies together, enjoying a sunset together, buying a new tomato plant together, building a deck together…and that out of these shared experiences comes a desire to share touch.

Here and here are the links to the two blogs in question. Have at those and this one if you wish!

And then on to Exodus, and some blogs on creation in preparation for an upcoming public forum I’ve been invited to participate in on environmental stewardship.

Peace!

Thanks for the question!

I do have an opinion.  I actively supported the recent change in policy.

One of the intriguing things about this entire conversation is the way in which Scripture has been employed.  I have come to decide (not surprisingly, given my vocational bias as a systematic theologian) that the question really is not a scriptural one, but rather a theological one.

That might seem to be a surprising distinction, but here’s what’s behind it:

You can use scripture to back up most anything one desires.  Slavery, women’s subjugation, bashing babies’ heads on stones, multiple wives, socialism (not capitalism, come to think of it), celibacy, giving away all you have…you get the idea; all are encouraged in Scripture.

But clearly, some matters in Scripture we embrace, some we do not.

Add to that the fact that Scripture was written over hundreds and hundreds of years, and hundreds and hundreds of years ago.  So as one of my Old Testament professors pointed out, the one commandment we have ever gotten correct was, “Be fruitful and multiply.”  Made sense then, in a day when they needed to populate.  But in a day when we struggle with overpopulation, well, does that law speak to us even now?

And for the Christians in the group, if you add the notion of the living, breathing, Holy Spirit into it, one can not make the case that the Spirit was done speaking at the end of Revelation.  The Spirit can speak to us outside of Scripture.

The question, it seems to me, is less “What does Scripture say,” and more “On what basis do we interpret Scripture?”

When we begin there, we learn about why different groups are in favor of the new ELCA rostering decision, and why some oppose it.

And when we begin there, we also understand something of context, and might even engage in a new form of respectful and humble dialogue.

So while I disagree with those who are angry with the new choice to ordain gays and lesbians in committed relationships, it helps to learn something of their theological framework, and then the conversation becomes much more fruitful than lobbing Bible verses back and forth.

What do you think?

Anna