We should rethink being an ‘episcopal’ church

[With editorial revisions 1/10/08] The expensive litigation over property rights in the Diocese of Virginia should make Episcopalians rethink something: We should ask ourselves whether, in today’s world, a diocesan polity is worth spending the money to defend in court.

The answer, I submit, depends greatly on whether a diocese-based church is the most effective organization for carrying out our mission of bringing people to God; or whether instead (all things considered) we’d likely do our job better in a more congregation-oriented polity.

It’s been suggested that Episcopalians are attracted primarily to specific congregations, much more than to dioceses or the national church. If that’s the case, then we may be making a mistake by insisting on the primacy of the diocese. Doing so might have the unintended consequence of reducing Episcopalians’ motivation to participate in the church’s work — thereby indirectly interfering in that work.

*  *  *

Some background: The Episcopal Church has long organized itself into dioceses. Each diocese is led by a bishop (Greek: episkopos, "overseer"). A bishop’s authority resembles that of a king or queen in a limited monarchy (hence the term "prince-bishop"), or of the mayor in a strong-executive city government. In that regard, TEC took its lead from its predecessors, the Church of England and the Roman Catholic Church.

Historically, the diocesan model has had administrative advantages. For example, in the days when the Roman Catholic Church or the Church of England was the only game in town, a strong-executive model surely had its uses in keeping the church together and focused on its mission.

*  *  *

But conditions have changed since the days of the first bishops, and even since . And one change strikes me as critical: In today’s religious marketplace, people who aren’t unhappy with their particular congregations, but dissatisfied with the larger church’s direction, can vote with their feet — perhaps by moving to another denomination, or alternatively by just drifting away from the life of the church.

We can argue that a true Christian’s commitment to the church’s work is undiminished by disagreement about direction. But it’s indisputable that people do tend to drift away when they’re dissatisfied. And when they do, their time, talent, and treasure become less available for the work of the church — any church.

* * *

Episcopalians need to focus again on the central question of every church’s polity: What is the best way to marshal our resources for the work of bringing people to God?

Certainly past practice is a good starting point for the discussion. In some situations, past practice might also be the end of the discussion; if ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

But if there’s a chance something is broken, or if there’s evidence that we could be doing things better, then we can’t make past practice an untouchable idol.

* * *

If we want Episcopalians to continue bringing their time, talent, and treasure to the church’s mission, we must ask: What motivates people to enthusiastically support our church, as opposed to some other church, or none at all?

My very-orthodox friend David Grizzle speculates on this question. He thinks (rightly, in my view) that most Episcopalians are loyal to a particular congregation, not to their diocese or the national Episcopal Church, let alone the Anglican Communion.

David says:

… if you could actually attach a passion-meter to every parishioner in the Episcopal Church, which had the capacity to measure the components of passion the way a blood lab assays the components in our blood, you would find – on both the liberal and conservative bloodlines – that their passion as it relates to ecclesiastical matters would assay as follows:

Love of local congregation (people, staff, building)       70%
Prayer Book     15%
Style of worship    13%
National and global affiliation 2%

(Emphasis added.)

If David is correct, it suggests that the congregation might be far more important to the Episcopal Church’s work than the diocese. That’s because (by hypothesis) it’s the congregation, not the diocese, that attracts and motivates people to support the church’s work with their time, talent, and treasure.

But these days the Episcopal Church is spending time and money fighting about whether parish property is owned by dioceses or by congregations.

There seems to be general agreement that these fights are
de-motivating church members and sending the wrong message to the
unchurched whom we’re seeking to bring to God. That’s not smart. Discouraging your
workers and prospective workers is not the way you grow a business, whether secular or ecclesial.

There also seems to be general agreement that these fights are
absorbing financial resources that could otherwise be spent on the mission. 

Regardless of which side is "right," if operating as a diocese-oriented church contributes to reducing the resources available for bringing people to God, then maybe we need to reassess the wisdom of operating in that way. We should swallow our pride and ask whether we might achieve better overall results for the mission with a more-congregational polity.

I don’t know the answer. But I definitely think the question is worth discussing.

(I’m sure some commenter will ask: Why don’t I just switch to a congregational church and leave the Episcopal Church the way it is. My answer is: A church is, or ought to be, like your extended family. You don’t switch families just because your existing one is going through a rough patch. Neither do you do so with your church.)

 


   

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Comments

4 responses to “We should rethink being an ‘episcopal’ church”

  1. robroy Avatar
    robroy

    This was an interesting essay. I referenced it in a posting at SF.
    “For any church, the central question about polity should always be: What is the best way to organize ourselves to make the best use of our resources in bringing people to God?”
    Amen!

  2.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    I’m OK with remaining “Episcopal,” actually. I think it’s a necessary corrective to the (especially American) “rugged invididualist” philosophy. Clergy, especially, I think – because they have so much power at the parish level – need to remember that they are “under authority,” and so do all of us. (Our Bishops are “under authority,” also – the authority of the General Convention).
    But I take your point anyway. It’s something like “states’ rights,” I guess; there are times when “states’ rights” becomes an excuse for parochialism, bigotry, and repression. That’s when a higher authority has to step in.
    But then you get something like the Catholic Church hierarchy! This is actually a really hard question, and I don’t think one size fits all.
    – bls

  3.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    (Anyway, the David Grizzle stuff is entirely conjecture, isn’t it? And I don’t know about others, but I do feel a loyalty to the Episcopal Church as well as to my local congregation.
    Many of us do, I think, who aren’t accepted elsewhere. So I’m not so sure how true that is.)
    – bls again

  4. R. Eric Sawyer Avatar

    As much as I respect David G., for me it is quite different. When as a young adult I experienced what I understand to be God’s leading into a particular Episcopal parish (Redeemer, Houston) I understood that direction to be into the deep end of the pool. I was not to wade in, and take the things I liked at Redeemer, but to join myself with everything that meant: the DOT, ECUSA, the AC, the English Reformers, the “catholic” faith (I was from a congregationalist – Baptist – background) the apostolic fathers, etc. Sort of like enrolling in a school, the student’s free choice extends to whether or not he will enroll here or there. In the act of enrolling, he must surrender a portion of his freedom for a student’s responsibility to sit under the authority of his teachers. Later, he regains his freedom as a master of the subject. It was in this spirit that I had my children baptized (while I wrestled with paedo-baptism, and its implications), the presence of Our Lord in the Eucharist, etc. There was a great deal that I would have passed by at a surface level had I not by obedience been obliged to confront.
    In doing so, I entered in to a world far richer than the Christianity I had experienced or understood.
    The congregationalist polity certainly bypasses our present distress, and for the reasons you note. But it is a solution like amputation. “Yes, we can solve the problem caused by your diabetes (and I am diabetic). We can cut off both your feet and put you in a wheelchair.” It does relieve the symptoms we are experiencing as a church, but it is hardly palatable. And it does nothing to remove the underlying disorder. There will be more to come: blindness and kidney failure in one case, further splintering in sectarianism in the other. Still, “If thy right hand offend thee…”
    The connection to the Church through the Anglican approach to of Christianity is not something I will abandon lightly.
    I do not hold a roman view about succession, and what it means to be in the succession. But the connection seems important.

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