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8 things ecumenism is not

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Ecumenism, its purposes and its nature, seem sometimes arcane. But deeply, to me, ecumenism is highly important because it is an attempt to reflect the unity of the Body of Christ in the way we conduct worship: with one another. So here are a few things I’ve found ecumenism is not:

ecumenism

Photo: Yyaroshko (Wikimedia, under CC license)

1. Ecumenism is not a watering down of doctrine. It is not about trying to find the essence of Christianity and venturing no further. See, our faith is (or should be) so pervasive as to tint our every action. Therefore, sticking our ecumenical thought to what we deem essential and not saying anything about the rest is tantamount to restricting ecumenism to a tiny part of who we are.

2. Ecumenism is not about pretending we have no differences, or at least no substantial differences. It is not about burying our head in the sand and inviting others to follow our practice; nor is it about blindly following other practices by pretending they’re all the same anyway. Such an attitude is presumptuous at best, and maybe damaging – especially around issues of communion. The Body of Christ is made up of a variety of organs; that diversity should be embraced at least to some extent, rather than glossed over as “something for another day”.

3. Ecumenism is not about glorifying those differences either. The differences are there, but we are all looking towards God. And in ecumenism, we are looking towards Him together.

3. Ecumenism is not inter-faith. It’s not talking with people who are assumed to be radically different. In “doing” ecumenism, we are joining our brothers and sisters in worshiping the same God: it is joint action, and relies on an ultimately common understanding of God.

4. Ecumenism is not an excuse for evangelism. The only attitude that can be had in ecumenical events is one of brotherhood. Yes, teaching can happen, discussions can happen – and it would be a sad thing if they didn’t! After all, it wouldn’t be much of a congregation if people didn’t talk with one another, or rebuked one another. But while such disagreements and ensuing discussions are welcome, they are not the main thrust of ecumenical action.

5. Ecumenism is not about striving for peace. Peace is far more easily achieved through mutual ignorance anyway!

6. Ecumenism is not done for the sake of being nice. Who cares about niceties? We have plenty of other people to be nice to. It’s not for the sake of looking lovey-dovey and politically correct either! No, it is done because we are one body, one church, and we should sometimes start acting like it.

7. Ecumenism is not about dialogue. It’s not a question of “understanding the other” better, or of debating thorny theological points with one another. Imagine this: Calvinists and Arminians belonging to separate bodies, and joining together – and all the event revolving around predestination! There would be a point in that, granted – any discussion on predestination is welcome – but is it really everything Christians talk about? Surely not! Then why make it the main point of a joint event?

8. Ecumenism is not trumping other church activities. I see ecumenism as an outlook, an attitude which, yes, comes through in some specific events. And in an ideal world, this attitude should shine through regular church activities. But in the event it does not, there is little point going towards the outside at the expense of the inside.

Liturgy: dust off our feet

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I love liturgy. Not as a set of dead rules, but as something that brings life to common worship. In the more modern evangelical circles, however, where congregational polity is more frequent, it feels rather out of place. After all, clinging on to set words rather than hoping for the inspiration of the Holy Spirit comes across as Romish, backward and at its worst, in contradiction of what Paul says. To people who aren’t used to liturgy, it can look like brainwashing – speaking the words of the prayer without engaging your brain, nor your spirit.

liturgy

Photo: Joe Dunckley, reused under CC license.

So it’s natural that us liturgy-lovers subconsciously jump to its defense. I’ve had conversations with friends where liturgy was defended as, simply, unavoidable. That whether official or not, there was always some level of modern liturgy lurking in the background. I’ve laughed when I saw videos taking fun of Christianese, because they describe exactly what that modern liturgy looks like. I’ve smiled at the use of “Amen” as a pious “Over” or “Over and out”.

But when I look at modern evangelical or charismatic Christianity in that way, all I’m doing is bring their practices down to the level of my, for wont of a better word, insecurities about traditional liturgy. Rather than looking at the positive in the very nature of liturgy, I’m discarding it as something we all do anyway. But in doing that, I don’t leave myself any space to say anything good about liturgy. So all I can do is look at some parts of the liturgy – specific prayers – and explain how much of a good prayer they are. And I have done that on a few occasions here. What I can’t do, is say why using more or less ancient forms of public worship is a good idea in and of itself.

Before I get into that, I should frame what I’m saying. Here’s what Hooker says:

True it is, the ancienter, the better ceremonies of religion are; howbeit, not absolutely true and without exception: but true only so far forth as those different ages do agree in the state of those things, for which at the first those rites, orders, and ceremonies, were instituted.

Preface to the Laws; chapter IV.4

Liturgy does not take precedence over relevance. If it really jars with either law or common secular practice, then you really need another reason to justify keeping the traditional liturgy going.

But as long as it’s not at complete odds with the culture of the age, Hooker concedes: the ancienter, the better. Why is that?

Going with tradition means inscribing yourself in a long line of worshippers before you and after you. There’s a famous image from Jewish tradition suggesting disciples should seek to be covered in the dust of their rabbi (as a result of being so close to them). I like to see liturgy in the same way as I see this dust: in itself, it is nearly insignificant; but it goes hand in hand with the attitude of a follower. And when the disciple turns rabbi, some of that dust will fall on their disciples; making  an unbroken, worshipping communion that stretches through the ages.

But rejecting tradition means breaking that line. And that means breaking yourself off from future generations of worshippers too. The dust that you have lifted will be shaken off the sandals of those who follow you.

That’s why the ancienter the liturgy, the better. Because, intrinsically, it goes hand in hand with the truly humble attitude of following our forebears and allows us to lead on future generations. And simply on the basis that it has been kept alive for this long, suggesting that there might actually be something in it after all!

Liturgy is not a straitjacket, nor should it be treated as such. It is, however, wonderful to use it as a support for our worship: accepting it where appropriate and making it our own. To make it our own can take so many forms, too! We can mix it up, drawing from a variety of traditions; we can write our own prayers; we can experiment a little bit too. But let’s not be ashamed to look at the past to order our services.

Ecumenism matters

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Ecumenism is a big, scary word. Like predestination. Like transsubstantiation. Which means we can hide behind it. In an infamous Father Ted episode, Father Jack is taught to say “that’s an ecumenical matter” to stop him from answering any question. At the heart of ecumenism, though, is a very important idea: Christian unity.

Photo: E Gammie, reused under CC license

At the heart is the idea that there is one catholic (little c!) and apostolic church. Any church that adheres to the Nicene creed should adhere to the idea of ecumenism.
Any organisation that holds to the Bible should adhere to the idea of ecumenism. Because if we don’t, we are creating a culture of “us and them”, a culture where the others are not in communion with us.

But here come a difficulty: ecumenism is generally understood as bridging the Roman Catholic/Protestant divide (at least in the West). But where do we draw the line? What’s to stop us from being ecumenical with, say, Christadelphians, Mormons, and Jehovah’s Witnesses? Aren’t we drawing the same sort of line when we’re considering some as non-Christians?

To answer this, I like to look at the liturgy used for the induction of a Catholic chaplain last week. It goes:

Will you acknowledge the richness and diversity of your individual Christian traditions? Will you seek to be more fully united in faith, communion, pastoral care and mission, only doing apart what cannot be done together? Will you, in obedience to the Word of God, pledge yourselves to seek and make visible the unity intended by Christ for His people?

The stakes appear to have been raised. It is unity “intended by Christ”. No, Christ did not necessarily suggest there should be only one church organisation – the prayer in John 17 is that all Christians be one in Him. But what the liturgy says is that this unity needs to be made visible.

Indeed, one of the most mind-boggling questions people ask about Christianity is “why are there so many different denominations?” The multiplicity of churches to go to, the multiplicity of the details in doctrine, etc. impedes mission quite heavily. Because it means people look at the details* rather than at what is at the core of our being.

Don’t get me wrong, ecumenism should not be just in order to show that we are together – it should stem from a real desire for Christian unity! That unity is between individual Christians, who are all one in Christ – and then moving up to organisations; rather than the opposite. But ecumenism does have a visible part. It is, beyond a nice fluffy feeling, something that we “do”. The rest of the liturgy tells us more:

  • it is not an erasing of differences between different denominations. It is not being “non-denominational”. Rather, it is embracing those differences and celebrating them – and beyond that, celebrating our unity around these differences.
  • it happens in all we do: mission, faith, communion, pastoral care. Only things that cannot be done together should be done apart (basically, holy communion rites or celebration of the saints). But in that way, ecumenism looks no different from what we normally do. That’s probably what throws people who try to “do” ecumenical things – they are not special things to do; just normal things to do together.

This is where we can start to answer to the question of where ecumenism stops. Because in all we do as Christians, God is central. We do all these things not in our own strength, but relying, giving thanks and worshipping God. In order to be able to do so, we need to be worshipping, basically, the same God: the Triune God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. As long as this happens, ecumenism is possible – more than that, it should happen and be visible. Just because we do things a bit differently, is no excuse for not being ecumenical.

That would be an ecumenical matter” becomes, then, no excuse – rather, it turns into an impressively important matter, but also one that should flow naturally. After all, we do things together with people who believe in predestination – why not with Catholics too? ;-)

* Details can be important. Far be it from me to play down the importance of free will, or of how we see the Bible, etc. But doctrine is not at the centre of what we do – God is. (And yes, I realise that sentence is doctrinal in itself :-P )