Seven whole days

Our culture has an angel problem. Lots of people talk about angels. Guardian angel this, Hallmark card that. Angels appear on TV shows. Angels are regular features in all manner of popular culture, high brow and low brow. You hear about them sometimes in sermons. And all of this chatter is, almost without exception, contrary to the picture of angels that emerges in the Bible.

So I thought I might clear up a few things on this Feast of St. Michael & All Angels. In no particular order, here goes.

Angels are not comforting. They are scary. There’s a reason nearly every time angels appear to humans in scripture, the angel begins by saying, “Be not afraid.” Aside from a thing appearing out of nowhere, their appearance is not what you might think. Which leads me to point the second.

Angels do not look like fat babies or cute wing-people. Generally speaking, angels are described as having loads of eyes and multiple faces. Put that on a Hallmark card.

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“The Episcopal Church welcomes you!” That’s our deal, right? We’re welcoming. Or not so much. Now that I’m not serving in a parish, I have been visiting lots of Episcopal congregations. It’s been illuminating, both in good and in troubling ways.

I’m not breaking new ground when I say that most congregations simply aren’t welcoming. Sure, the current members feel welcome, but that’s because they’re already in the club. If you show up as a new face, there’s often a distinct lack of warmth. When I visit congregations, I’m usually not wearing a clerical collar, so I get the same welcome that they’d give any guest. It’s usually not much of a welcome at all.

Here’s a recent experience: I arrive 10-15 minutes before the service. As I enter the narthex, I see the usher engaged in conversation with a parishioner. The usher is clutching a pile of service leaflets. No problem, I’ll just grab one off a table and take myself to a pew. No dice. The only leaflets are held by the talking usher. I walk toward him, waiting for him to pause. He glances at me: “Oh, you need a program?” in a not particularly friendly tone. “Yes, please. Thank you.” Without a further glance or a word, he shoves a leaflet my direction and continues the conversation. Welcome to the Episcopal Church.

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In the US today, lots of people are remembering the attacks of ten years ago. Seems to me that this hymn is useful, and not just because of its poignant reminder that “tower and temple fall to dust.” Our only hope is in God. Our hope is not in endless counter-terrorism measures, or war, or demonization of the other, or false and jingoistic patriotism. Let me say again: our only hope is in God.

All my hope on God is founded;
he doth still my trust renew,
me through change and chance he guideth,
only good and only true.
God unknown,
he alone
calls my heart to be his own.

Pride of man and earthly glory,
sword and crown betray his trust;
what with care and toil he buildeth,
tower and temple fall to dust.
But God’s power,
hour by hour,
is my temple and my tower.

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The interwebs are hopping with “news” from the Telegraph that Rowan Williams is rumored to be resigning next year as Archbishop of Canterbury. As The Lead points out, the source for the story is pretty sketchy. Maybe he’s resigning, maybe he isn’t. But already people are rejoicing in blog comments and Facebook posts.

I’m not jumping for joy. Setting aside the basic principle of treating everyone (including archbishops we may not like) with dignity, I am not so eager to see Williams ride off into the sunset. Of course, his sunset could be a professorship in Cambridge, which is probably a good deal. Still, I think he has brought many gifts to the Anglican Communion.

OK, dear readers. Let’s continue, unencumbered by the readers who have tuned out since I didn’t join in the chorus of Williams-is-lousy-so-we-want-him-gone. Sure, I don’t agree with everything Williams has said or done. He has, like all of us, made some grave errors. But he has also offered much to the church, the communion, and the world.

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No, I’m not talking about some people who like to play games with the Bible. This is about a video game developer’s effort to create entertainment from the Bible’s narrative. This game is based on the story of Enoch. What’s that? You don’t know about Enoch?

Enoch is perfect as a game hero. Totally righteous dude who went straight to heaven without dying. Superhero powers. Mystical. Probably had access to nifty superweapons, and certainly would have had a cool wardrobe, featuring a cape and some stretchy plastic. Or its ancient equivalent, perhaps made of reeds and clay.

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ASBO Jesus is singing my song.

While the church needs to be structured in order to carry out its mission, we often make the mistake of elevating the structures above their actual importance. What do I mean by structures? (This is the clever bit.) When I am ranting about structures, we’re talking about church buildings and committees / staff / institutions.

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Keith Anderson has put his finger on a phenomenon within our church which I have been unable to name until now. Anderson says that our church is dying. We’re not being killed by culture. We’re being killed by our own grief.

In a time of tremendous change — and tremendously rapid change — it is not surprising that we’d be doing some grieving. We miss things the way they were. Even those of us who do not lament a mythical “golden age” find things to miss. Anderson points out that church folk mix up church and culture and start a massive grief-fest (my “word” not his) that they can neither articulate nor escape.

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