Now a part of the Christian Century Blogs Network

I'm so glad to now have Santos Woodcarving Popsicles be a part of the Christian Century Blogs Network. Here is the listing from today of the new blogs in their network. Check them out, and go on over to Christian Century and read some other wonderful people's stuff!

Blessings on this Fall evening,

~The Rev. Peter M. Carey

_______________

Welcome new CCbloggers

Mon, 10/05/2009 - 13:39 — Steve Thorngate

There are several new bloggers in the network. Drop by and check them out:

Debra Dean Murphy, an Ekklesia Project board member and lectionary blogger, is on the religion faculty at West Virginia Wesleyan College. She blogs atIntersections.

Ryan Dueck is a Mennonite Brethren pastor in British Columbia. He calls himself a "hopeful skeptic" and blogs at Rumblings.

Virginia Episcopal priest Peter Carey is a contributor to Episcopal Cafe. He blogs at Santos Woodcarving Popsicles.

Thomas Bowen, a minister at Washington D.C.'s Shiloh Baptist Church, writes about religion and politics at Blogging to the Choir.

Baptist pastor Joshua Hearne blogs at Telling the Stories That Matter, which consists of lively retellings of saints' lives.

Eponymous blogger Beth A. Richardson is a United Methodist deacon, a writer/musician/photographer and the editor of upperroom.org.

Robert Minto, a philosophy major at Dordt College, is on his way to both seminary and law school. He blogs at The Veil Away.

Lutheran lawyer Obie Holmen lives in Northfield, Minnesota. He blogs at Spirit of a Liberal.

Barbara Brown Taylor: "the last thing any of us needs is more information about God."

from the Christian Century's "theolog" blog:


When I hear people talk about what is wrong with organized religion, or why their mainline churches are failing, I hear about bad music, inept clergy, mean congregations and preoccupation with institutional maintenance. I almost never hear about the intellectualization of faith, which strikes me as a far greater danger than anything else on the list. In an age of information overload, when a vast variety of media delivers news faster than most of us can digest—when many of us have at least two e-mail addresses, two telephone numbers and one fax number—the last thing any of us needs is more information about God. We need the practice of incarnation, by which God saves the lives of those whose intellectual assent has turned as dry as dust, who have run frighteningly low on the bread of life, who are dying to know more God in their bodies. Not more about God. More God.


~ Barbara Brown Taylor

Read it all HERE.

"Splitting Up: Anglican Angst" in the Christian Century Magazine

The Christian Century has an interesting article, "Splitting Up: Anglican Angst" by Jason Byassee which is well-worth a read...

I wonder what Ed Friedman, the late guru of family dynamics as they apply to organizations and churches, would make of the "family" dynamics in our beloved Communion...

the Rev. Peter M. Carey

~~~~~~~~~~~

Splitting up

Anglican angst

by Jason Byassee

Last year the Church of the Resurrection in suburban West Chicago closed its doors and put its building up for sale. The Episcopal congregation had suffered membership losses 14 years earlier when some conservative members left to start their own church, also called the Church of the Resurrection, in nearby Glen Ellyn. The new congregation later aligned itself with the Anglican Mission in the Americas (AMIA), which is connected to the Anglican Church in Rwanda. The new Church of the Resurrection later experienced its own split, with some members leaving to launch the Church of the Great Shepherd—also affiliated with AMIA—in Wheaton. The Church of the Great Shepherd eventually closed its doors, but not before a 2004 split led to the formation of the Church of the Savior back in West Chicago. During this time the ranks of St. Mark's, an Episcopal congregation in Glen Ellyn, had been swelling—until the Episcopal Church consecrated an openly gay bishop in 2003, whereupon many St. Mark's members left to form All Souls, still another AMIA church, in Wheaton. Meanwhile, another split at the original Church of the Resurrection in West Chicago, which had experienced renewed growth, led to the creation of the Church of the Resurrection Anglican, a church which is overseen by the archbishop of Uganda. So now there are two Resurrection churches in the area, both formed in exodus from the original—now defunct—Church of the Resurrection, and both affiliated with African Anglican bodies, not with the Episcopal Church in the United States, sometimes abbreviated as TEC. Got all that? Even for Anglicans in the vicinity it takes a long memory or a flow chart to keep straight all the Episcopal-Anglican divisions and acronyms that have developed in the well-heeled suburbs of DuPage County, just west of Chicago.

...read the rest HERE....

Seminary distress (Op-Ed Piece from the Christian Century)

I wonder what kinds of new forms of ministry training may come if and when the "traditional" residential seminary curriculum is more a rarity than the norm.

May 06, 2008

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Seminary distress

Jesus taught his disciples in the outdoors, without a prescribed curriculum. His lessons were passed on by way of oral tradition before being written down. The way things are going, mainline seminaries may be returning to such informal models of theological training. At the very least, this is a time of great uncertainty in theological education, a time when students are more diverse, religious identities are in flux, financial support from denominations is down and education expenses continue to go up. As was reported in these pages April 8, a number of seminaries have taken dramatic steps to keep their programs alive, often by making alliances with other institutions. Seabury-Western Theological Seminary, an Episcopal school in Evanston, Illinois, discontinued its M.Div. program and is considering how to offer the degree "in another format." A New York Times article (April 5) by Richard Higgins points to the large gap between the haves and the have-nots in theological education. Schools that are attached to major universities (like Duke, Vanderbilt, University of Chicago) or that have significant endowments (Princeton, Virginia Theological Seminary) are secure, but many others scramble to survive in the new environment. Higgins quotes Daniel Aleshire, head of the Association of Theological Schools, saying that 30 of the nation's 165 seminaries are in financial distress. Higgins also notes that 39 percent of all seminarians can be found at just 20 schools. What does all this mean? Sadness for alumni and anxiety for students, faculty and staff at the precarious institutions. But Louis Weeks, retired president of Union Theological Seminary in Richmond, Virginia, argues that mainline seminaries should be looking for ways to expand their offerings, not shrink them. More and more people are hungry for theological education. Weeks points to the success of his school's extension campus in Charlotte. Some hard questions need to be asked about the future of seminaries. For example: Do the United Methodists really need two schools in Ohio? Do the ELCA Lutherans need two in Pennsylvania? Those who love such schools will naturally flinch at the questions, but any serious look at the future will have to address them, along with questions like: Is a residential education still essential for seminaries? How much education can take place online? (One seminary professor said, "I refuse to teach embodied theology in a disembodied way!") Does the future of theological education lie in moving back to the apprenticeship model, by which young pastors learn about ministry not at a school but by apprenticing themselves to established pastors? Jesus taught without an endowment, classrooms or a faculty, so we know that many kinds of ministerial training can work. The question is what model will work for the 21st century.

Submergent Church

All this talk of the Emergent Church has me thinking maybe we need to revisit the "Submergent Church"...have you heard of it?

here's an article on the Submergent Church from the Christian Century from last year:

The submergent church

by James Choate-Munitz

A man in his mid-30s sits in a recliner in a dark room. Bursts of light from an episode of Dancing with the Stars flash on the walls and furniture. He grasps a cold beer, and a bag of potato chips is in his lap. This man is a pastor, and he is—at this very moment—leading his flock. When most people think of ministry, they conjure up images of prayers with upraised hands, bold marches for peace and justice, praise songs to a rockin' beat, or fiery sermons. "That's just not me," says Michael Bunglebottom. "My congregation understands that and even appreciates it. We're not your ordinary church." Bunglebottom refers to the Master's Playhouse in Toledo. The congregation is affiliated with the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), but you would have a hard time figuring that out if you wandered into one of their worship services on a Sunday morning. "We understand that people don't go for labels anymore," notes Martha Edwards, one of the church's assistant directors, a position that is roughly equivalent to a deacon in other congregations. Actually, you would have a hard time even getting to one of these services. This congregation does not advertise—not even in the yellow pages—and its telephone number is unlisted. The denominational office has only a post office box on file for the church, not even a street address. In order to attend one of their "Plays," as members call worship services, I had to be blindfolded and driven on a circuitous route through Toledo by one of the Cast Members, as church members are called. "We try to eliminate the temptations inherent in most ministries, the pride, power and politics of what they do. That especially applies to the fascination with numbers," said Bunglebottom in an interview conducted on the Playhouse's Main Stage, an exquisite mahogany platform with the latest in audio, visual and lighting equipment. The stage is framed by a set of giant maroon velour curtains edged in gold stitching. "We don't worry about the ego that comes with being a church of huge numbers because most people don't even know we exist," he said. Despite the wealth of theater images, it is the intentional invisibility that is the identifying mark of the Master's Playhouse and similar groups in what is called the Submergent Church movement. The core theological distinction of Submergents is that they see their faith lives as "hid with God." "We stay put in our prayer closets. With all the violence in the world driven by religious fervor, we don't feel the need to show off," said Bunglebottom. "Besides, we're comfortable here with our close friends and family. If strangers came into our midst, it would throw off the delicate balance of fellowship." For all the subdued praise that Bunglebottom and his Cast Members give to the Submergent Church movement, there are detractors. "What about the call to make disciples?" asked Violet Long, Bunglebottom's presiding elder in the Presbyterian Church's Northwest Ohio District. "What about ministries that strive for God's peace, justice and mercy?" Long seems to be suggesting that advocates of the Submergent Church movement are simply lazy. Johnson Clinebell, chair of the national board of the Submergent Church Dialogue Team, says Long and others like her do not understand the movement. "With respect to God's grace," he says, "less is more. It is not something that should be received in large doses. Nor should we show it off like some expensive pearl." This theological approach means that in most Submergent churches, worship seldom lasts longer than 15 minutes and, apart from the service, there are no other activities. Instead, Cast Members believe that faith is lived out in the ordinary moments of life. That means that while Bunglebottom is watching television alone at home, eating potato chips and drinking beer, he is feeding his own soul and setting a good example for the congregation. "What we have found," said Clinebell, "is that people are eager to put a lot more in the offering plate if they don't have to sit through long sermons or serve on committees." The Master's Playhouse is a prime example. The congregation generates so much revenue from its weekly offering that the church could purchase and completely renovate—with cash—a historic downtown Toledo theater. Bunglebottom is also able to farm out all administrative work to contractors. In fact, he works only about an hour and a half each week for his full-time salary, and that includes his commute time. Many people, Clinebell says, have a hard time picturing a 15-minute worship service. "Most Submergent congregations have great sound systems and will listen to a praise song on CD. Then, if they can find a Bible, someone might read something. After that, the pastor will say what's on his mind. Then they go home." Clinebell admits that most people "just don't get" the Submergent Church movement. "That's OK. That's just the way we like it—off the radar. We're the unseen leaven in society." A Submergent Church may be coming to a neighborhood near you soon. But you won't know about it.

James Choate-Munitz writes for the Aldersgate Gazette, a blog at agazette.blogspot.com.

Barbara Brown Taylor: When the well runs dry

I read this essay over at the Christian Century and found myself (again) challenged and stretched by Barbara Brown Taylor...elements of it remind me of the great book by the Liberation Theologian, Gustavo Gutierrez, "We drink from our own wells: The spiritual journey of a people." Lots to reflect upon here

I've posted an excerpt. You can read it all HERE.

When the well runs dry

by Barbara Brown Taylor

There were 15 people in my house when the well ran dry. It was Thanksgiving, and everyone knew that they did not have to flush every time. Those who were spending the night had learned how to take navy showers: turn the water on long enough to get wet, turn it off, soap yourself, turn the water on long enough to rinse, and turn it off again. If the water ever gets really nice and hot, then you know that you have left it on too long. Everyone knew this, but we still ran out of water. When I turned the kitchen tap to fill the coffee pot after Thanksgiving dinner, all that came out was a long airy gasp. "We're out of water!" I yelled. People looked at me uncomprehendingly. Surely that one little secret flush had not made the difference. Surely that one extra minute under the showerhead had not caused everyone to go without water for the rest of the afternoon. But it had. Someone went to the grocery store for plastic jugs of water. Someone else helped Ed fetch water from the creek to flush the toilets and water the animals. By evening, those still in residence had learned how to brush their teeth with four tablespoons of water. When our guest Kathleen got ready to leave the next morning, she said, "I have never been so grateful for running water before. I never knew I could get by on so little. Why do I let it run and run at home?"

Read the rest HERE.

The wired pastor

I ran across the following article on "the wired pastor" on the Theolog blog, which is the 'web - log' (blog) of the Christian Century. As I sat at my desk drinking my Starbucks grande coffee, I thought, perhaps that it was an article about the "wired" pastor who drinks a bit too much coffee ... probably a good topic to engage. However, this wonderfully challenging piece is about pastors who feel the necessity to be "wired," to be "connected" at all times via blackberry, email, pager, cell phone, whatever; and is a challenge to those people who feel that 'need.'

The comments are also very interesting, as some who have responded think that the article goes a bit too far, that pastors may need to be accessible, but not available at all times. I wrestle with this issue, as I live very nearby my office, and am usually not more than a couple hundred of yards away from my telephone and email and all that. Who, in a congregation, needs to have the cell phone number of their priest or pastor? Perhaps some boundaries are needed, and also pastors may need to find a way to not answer every email immediately, and not every call that comes into them. On the other hand, I have had the occasion when emergencies do happen, such as when I worked in a hospital, and I did want to respond quickly to a situation, to be there for people in need.

I wonder how to work through this question of availability and accessibility, and just how "wired" the pastor needs to be. I wrote a bit about this in an earlier entry, "Which needs give our lives meaning" but the challenge and the discussion needs to go on!

Perhaps Jesus would have an ipod today? (But maybe not a blackberry!?)

The wired pastor

By Jason Byassee

You’ve seen them, maybe you’re one of them: pastors who must be in touch at all times. The cell phone is either in use or strapped handily onto the belt, ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice. It’s best as a Blackberry or Treo, so it can vibrate every ten minutes with news of new messages. And just in case those fail, a beeper should be handy. You can never be too wired.

I can understand why some professions would cause one to need to be accessible 100 percent of the time: firefighters, psychologists with mentally ill patients and (given recent floods in this part of the country) plumbers come to mind. But why pastors? Certainly on large church staffs it’s a venerable practice to have one of the pastors on-call at all times in case of emergency. But I worry when I see wired pastors, ubiquitous as they are at church conventions and gatherings of clergy. I fear they conflate importance with accessibility, as if being incommunicado even briefly will lead to spiritual crisis. Must we be like other professions—doctors or financiers—and have a loop around our ear at all times? Or does pastoral wiring suggest anew the loss of confidence of the clergy vocation?

In response to our frenetic world, in which we can speak instantly to anyone around the world but have very little to say, I would argue pastors should be inaccessible more often than not. Part of our problem is that we get agitated if the email bell doesn’t go off every 30 seconds. Over against this, the pastor needs to teach us, to embody patience, or even silence. If my pastor, for example, is always instantly emailing me back, when is she praying for me? When is she quietly sitting in God’s presence, waiting for a word for us for Sunday? When is she nourishing her own soul in a way unrelated to her service to us, but just because God is good?

A seminary professor used to joke that church secretaries never tell callers, “I’m sorry, the pastor is unavailable. He’s praying.” Would that our cellphone voice mail messages would say the same or, better yet, that we wouldn’t have the devices at all.