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Why ecumenism is bad, too

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Lots of words ending in “ism” are bad. Fundamentalism. Radicalism. Racism. Schism. But they’re certainly not all bad: Altruism. Prism. Arminianism.

Ecumenism is one of the things that gets bandied about as an intrinsically good thing. I’m a massive supporter of it: where possible, things should be done together with other Christians regardless of minor doctrinal differences. If we believe we make up one body, we certainly should act like it. That’s the idea behind ecumenism – and that sure is a great idea.

ecumenism

Photo: Bob Jones, reused under CC license

However, in branding an event “ecumenical”, or in trying to be deliberately ecumenical, we are not only recognising our differences, we are exacerbating them. A friend of mine, openly Protestant, once attended a Catholic fellowship group. As it turned out, all that was talked about was points of disagreement (Immaculate Conception, sola scriptura, etc.) Now all ecumenical events do not have to be like that. Thankfully, most insist on the commonalities rather than on the disagreements. Yet even then, if the event is branded as ecumenical, the denominational differences are likely to end up as the proverbial elephant in the room. The differences we try to bridge through ecumenism become all the more visible in the end.

Therefore, before we go out of our way to be openly ecumenical, we should make sure that there are differences between the groups involved, lest we create more divisions than we bridge. Worse still, if we do, we may make it impossible to do stuff together outside of the “ecumenical” label.

I fervently believe the aims of ecumenism (the visible unity of Christ’s people), just like those of mission, are best served by a “belong before you believe” attitude: unity will come from people from an unspecified variety of backgrounds hanging out together and just knowing each other as Christians. Crucially, denomination-membership is no prerequisite to hanging out together; and therefore, it is unlikely to be branded “ecumenical”. And a side effect of this is that there may not be many clearly defined theological statements.

Even in this approach, though, deliberate ecumenism can be dangerous. Not that the absence of a clear theological outlook means that the individuals see their own faith falter, or that the ecumenical action is devoid of any meaning. Of course not. Going to church does not mean celebrating all specific doctrinal points that the local church adheres to; or at least not every Sunday!

No – the potential danger concerns the rest of our activities, those done within the limited circle of our own local church and denomination.

I have been working in a school for the past year. Now in a school the staff is not made up of only teachers: there’s also admin, janitorial staff, pastoral care team, etc. Be that as it may, the teachers, naturally, tend to hang out together (this isn’t helped by the teachers having their specific staff room). Interaction between us and the rest of the staff often remains on a professional level. In the cafeteria, the teachers sit and eat together, and admin and the pastoral care team usually sit at another table.

I don’t like that separation. We are a team, and I feel this should not be limited to dealing with students. So I occasionally try to bridge that separation and deliberately spend more time with non-teachers. This makes it sound like it’s a chore, so let me insist that it isn’t! The staff at my school are all lovely and have been a true blessing to me this year.

But I’m left to wonder how it might feel to the teachers. When I’m deliberately eating at the non-teachers table, it also appears that I’m deliberately not eating with them. The time spent “ecumenically”, as it were, is also time not spent with my natural group. Now, in the case of my school, there is little tension between the two groups (outside of crises, of course); and so there’s no risk of being branded an apostate/traitor/heretic who’s defected to the other side.

Still, there were moments of unease or incomprehension as to why, say, I wasn’t eating with the teachers. They were short-lived, but they are telling of a crucial problem with ecumenism. When done indiscriminately, it can end up as a one-person initiative which ends up sowing discord within the individual groups themselves. This is how I had to walk the rather fine line between spending time with teachers and with non-teachers, gradually bringing the two together. Needless to say, this could not be done without the willingness of both the teachers and the non-teachers!

And so it is with ecumenism. It must not be done at the expense of the groups’ individual life, and must be grounded in both. If we are to be a bridge between two denominations, we cannot simply hover in thin air: we need foundations. On both sides. And for these foundations to be strong, it is vital that the ecumenical drive be not perceived as a departure, but as a bringing together.

Let us take the example of the recent vote, in the Church of England to have women bishops. Some voiced concerns that it would make unity with the Roman Catholic church more difficult. This unity is a laudable aim, but my contention is that, in this matter, it is secondary. Secondary because a large majority of the Church of England (as expressed in the synod votes) is in favour of women bishops and that it is an important issue to many within the CofE. Inner harmony comes before bridge building, or the bridge will lead to nothing.

What are your views?

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This has the appearance of an inviting question. One where whoever is asking is interested in what the other person’s position in a debate. I’ve been asked that question on a variety of occasions.

On same-sex marriage.

On predestination.

On transubstantiation.

On pre- or post-lactarianism.

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Asking it, though, is making a double statement. On the one side, when I ask it, I admit that other views than my own are held. There’s little surprise, then, that people tend to enquire about my views on divisive issues.

But on the other side, when I hear someone answer that question, one of two things happen. Either they seem to fall on “my” side of the debate and I think “great” and get excited that someone agrees with me. Or they hold a different view, and then I directly consider that other view as something which is essentially alien. I box it in as “the opinion of someone else”, which does not affect me at all. I end up only using it to label the other person as a defender of “the other side” and, once I’ve done that, I can use that label as an excuse to dismiss anything they might have to say.

It’s a natural tendency we have always had. We try to form bonds and to associate with those who agree with us. We tend to listen to those who agree with us, and to build walls against those who disagree with us. But if we keep on doing that – and in a connected world, it is much easier to do so – we will never truly communicate.

Of course, there are sometimes legitimate reasons for you to ask about my views; or for me to ask about your views. But in those cases, the phrasing is awkward at best, and at its worst, it encourages the subconscious use of labels and the dismissal of their answer – from the moment onwards when I’ve found a label to attach them to.

So if I want to make you a cup of tea just the way you like it, I might ask “How do you take your tea?”, rather than “What are your views on pre- or post-lactarianism?” (1). If I have a hard time understanding how a loving God might predestine some people to hell; and how an almighty God leaves room for free will; I might just state those problems and ask “Can you help me to understand this?” rather than ask “What are your views on predestination?” In short, involve yourself in the conversation.

And if you’re on the receiving end of a “what are your views” question, be careful not to box yourself in. Do not start the answer as “I’m a Calvinist” or “I’m an Arminian” (I sometimes do, but that’s as a last recourse), and avoid being put in a box. Resist answering the question and ask why they are asking the question. Involve them (and their views). A deep, meaningful conversation is quite likely to follow.

If we are called to unity (in diversity!) let’s not try to create dividing lines where they are unnecessary and unhelpful. Let us speak with one another, informing one another in love.

So in the coming week, why not try to make sure that when you’re asking someone for their views on an issue, you’re not just trying to box them in?

(1) By the way, unless the tea is brewed in the mug, only pre-lactarianism is correct. But we must show mercy to the unenlightened post-lactarians.

9 myths about baptism

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Baptism is still considered by most denominations to be a very important moment; yet there is relatively little teaching about it in churches and much confusion about it still abounds. Here are 9 myths about baptism

baptism

Photo by ucb, reused under CC license

1. You have to be ready to be baptised.

Why is it a myth? Because we couldn’t get ourselves ready. We couldn’t make ourselves acceptable in the sight of God. The idea that you’d have to be a shining example of good behaviour before being allowed to get baptised, is just wrong.

So, you might tell me, “ah, but you have to know what you’re getting yourself into before you can make the decision”. A bit like knowing whom you’re marrying. And whilst there is some truth in that, the argument can be pushed to the extreme: why not complete a doctorate in theology before making the decision?
Within the Anglican church, a simple set of six questions is asked to candidates for adult baptism. They’re simple enough and they are most definitely sufficient. I would even argue they ask too much, in too theologically loaded phrasing, and that the word “candidate” in that setting is incredibly misused (as if you could fail at baptism!)

We love,  because God loved us first. That love is not conditional upon our actions, our theological knowledge, or any such thing. The same goes for baptism: as soon as we are able to recognise that love and where it comes from, we are as ready for baptism as we’re going to be.

2. Once you’re baptised, you stop sinning.

If only! Baptism is no magic wand. It is not something that turns you instantly from a sinner into a saint. It marks symbolically the start of the sanctification process, the death to the old self and the birth to the new self. But being baptised does not make us perfect. Church remains a hospital for sinners rather than a museum of saints.
Crucially, though, thinking that sin stops after baptism reinforces the (wrong) idea that you have to be ready for baptism: ready to give up sin, and strong enough to do so. But all that is asked is a willingness to do so – to turn to Christ and to realise that we have something better to hold on to.

3. Baptism is, first and foremost, an opportunity for evangelism.

I have heard that one before, and more than once. Some churches encourage this by getting the baptised-to-be to give a testimony of how they came to Christ at the baptismal service. It is true that baptism is a public affirmation of a private change.Yet imagine the same sentence with “baptism” replaced by “marriage”. Or “Christmas”. It would sound weird to treat either of these occasions as primarily opportunities for evangelism. It is true that they are moments when unchurched people may attend a service; and as such they do constitute opportunities for evangelism. But that’s not what they are about.
Just so with baptism. Leaving the God-directed part of baptism, the commitment to God out of it, makes baptism a hollow shell.

4. Baptism is a private affair.

Faith can be seen as a private affair in secular countries. On top of that, baptism is something very intimate, and personal: it can be seen as either the start or a significant stage at least in a very personal journey. Therefore, some could argue, baptism should remain between me and God, and whosoever is baptising me.
If baptism were private, though, it would be a private affirmation of a private change: in other terms, it would simply be a validation of what has already happened. A bit like receiving your degree certificate through the post. Is that validation necessary, though? Considering baptism as something private is both giving the event too much importance, and the process of sanctification too little.

5. If it’s not full immersion, it doesn’t count.

A lot of modern, evangelical churches insist on baptism being full immersion. I find that quite ironic, given the same churches’ reticence to follow set liturgy, but are so deadly intent on doing other things the “proper way”. Yes, βαπτίζω, whence we get the word baptism, does mean “immerse”. And yes, symbolically, full immersion implies the entire person, body and mind; and therefore reflects the fullness of the commitment made to Christ in baptism. And refusing full immersion for the sake of keeping your sinning hand from this commitment denotes a lack of willingness to submit to Christ altogether!
But while full immersion should not be shunned, it should not necessarily be insisted on: the apostles gave specific guidance on baptism, which recognises baptism by affusion as a proper way to proceed, and suggests other parts to baptism which aren’t really adhered to; and – most importantly, what is it supposed to count for?

6. If it’s not said with the proper words or by the right person, it doesn’t count.

This is the opposite end of the low/high-church spectrum. There is an authorised liturgy for baptisms in the Church of England – but this is more for the sake of unity than on theological grounds (I hope!). After all, in all that, the same as above applies: what is it supposed to count for?

7. Baptism is not really important, so it doesn’t matter whether you get baptised or not.

This is a tough one. If baptism is not what you get saved by, why the hell should you get baptised? After all, it’s not like you’re going to stop sinning afterwards…
While you’re at it, why should you take communion? Or worship?

And it is true – some denominations do not practise baptism. But then the question comes up: why did Jesus get baptised? What was the point, other than showing us the way, and marking his acceptance by his Father?

Baptism is a mark of submission, it is a step forward, an important stage in a journey – and a public commitment to which we can be held to account. That, in itself, makes baptism important – without even needing to use scripture as back-up.

8. Baptism is so important that if you don’t get baptised, you’ll rot in hell. Therefore, babies should be baptised.

Again at the opposite end of the spectrum, some denominations hold that baptism is necessary for salvation; and therefore baptise babies just to make sure they will make their way to heaven. Yet grace, not baptism, is what saves us. And that grace is through faith, not through baptism. (And, in any case, those who are saved were predestined… what? :-P )

9. Infant baptism is an abomination/plainly repugnant to the Bible

While infant baptism seems to suggest that salvation is obtained through reception of sacraments, it is not necessarily the theology behind the practice. Baptism denotes more than a one-way process where an individual declares their informed decision to follow Christ. It also marks a welcome into the Christian church; and there is no reason to withhold that welcome from children. How Jesus deals with children goes a long way to show that.

What are your thoughts? How do you see baptism?