Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Mary receiving the Eucharist

The Virgin Mary Receiving the Eucharist from Saint John the Apostle
Flemish School

Friday, August 16, 2019

S. Stephen of Hungary

I took this photo during the Chrism Mass 
at S. Stephen's Basilica, Budapest,
where I spent Holy Week, 2011. 

The first King of Hungary, Vaik (Vojk), born in 975, was the son of Hungarian chieftain G├ęza. They were baptised together in 985 by S. Adalbert, the Archbishop of Prague., and Vaik was given his Christian name, Stephen. In 995, he married Gisela, a sister of Henry, the Duke of Bavaria, the future Emperor S. Henry II, and in 997 he succeeded his father as chief of the Hungarian Magyars.

Stephen's vision for Hungary to become a Christian nation that was stable politically as well as a just, safe civilisation for its people, required a firm hand and the development of suitable administration. So he sent the Abbot Astricus to Rome to petition Pope Sylvester II for the royal dignity and the power to establish episcopal sees. The pope acceded to his wishes and, in addition, presented Stephen with a royal crown in recognition of his sovereignty.

As King of the Hungarians, Stephen sought above all to establish the nation on a sound moral foundation and to that end he suppressed blasphemy, murder, adultery and other public crimes, and established a feudal system throughout Hungary. To this day he is regarded as the architect of the independent realm of Hungary. 

Stephen founded a monastery in Jerusalem and hospices for pilgrims at Rome, Ravenna, and Constantinople. A close friend of St. Bruno, he also corresponded with St. Odilo of Cluny.

Unfortunately in his later years he had to deal with illness and family troubles. In 1031 his only son, Emeric, was killed on a bear hunt, this dashing Stephen's plans to transfer the reins of government to a genuinely Christian prince. Arguments arose among his nephews about the right of succession, and some of them even participated in a conspiracy against his life. 

S. Stephen of Hungary was buried beside his son at Stuhlweissenburg, and both were canonised together in 1083.

Here is the second reading from today's Office of Readings, taken from words written by S. Stephen to his son, Emeric:

Son, listen to your father's instruction

My dearest son, if you desire to honour the royal crown, I advise, I counsel, I urge you above all things to maintain the Catholic and apostolic faith with such diligence and care that you may be an example for all those placed under you by God and that all the clergy may rightly call you a man of true Christian profession.  Failing to do this, you may be sure that you will not be called a Christian or a son of the Church. Indeed, in the royal palace after the faith itself, the Church holds second place, first propagated as she was by our head, Christ; then transplanted, firmly constituted and spread through the whole world by his members, the apostles and holy fathers. And though she always produced fresh offspring, nevertheless in certain places she is regarded as ancient.

However, dearest son, even now in our kingdom the Church is proclaimed as young and newly planted; and for that reason she needs more prudent and trustworthy guardians lest a benefit which the divine mercy bestowed on us undeservedly should be destroyed and annihilated through your idleness, indolence or neglect.

My beloved son, delight of my heart, hope of your posterity, I pray, I command, that at every time and in everything, strengthened by your devotion to me, you may show favor not only to relations and kin, or to the most eminent, be they leaders or rich men or neighbors or fellow-countrymen, but also to foreigners and to all who come to you. By fulfilling your duty in this way you will reach the highest state of happiness. Be merciful to all who are suffering violence, keeping always in your heart the example of the Lord who said: I desire mercy and not sacrifice.  Be patient with everyone, not only with the powerful, but also with the weak.

Finally be strong lest prosperity lift you up too much or adversity cast you down. Be humble in this life, that God may raise you up in the next. Be truly moderate and do not punish or condemn anyone immoderately. Be gentle so that you may never oppose justice. Be honorable so that you may never voluntarily bring disgrace upon anyone. Be chaste so that you may avoid all the foulness of lust like the pangs of death. 

All these virtues I have noted above make up the royal crown and without them no one is fit to rule here on earth or attain the heavenly kingdom.

From admonitions to his son by Saint Stephen
(Cap. 1, 2, 10; PL 151, 1236-1237, 1242-1244)

Thursday, August 15, 2019

Our Sister and our Mother in glory - Today's great celebration

From the Queen of Heaven stained glass window
in S. John's Horsham, Victoria, Australia.

Anglicans and Roman Catholics who love Our Lady must be grateful for the final document of ARCIC-II "Mary - Grace and Hope in Christ." Mind you, I think that the document does contain echoes of the theological paranoia not unknown in some Anglican traditions, as well as a slightly skewed interpretation of our history in relation to Marian theology. It is as if the Anglican representatives at that time on ARCIC-II were either prejudiced against or ignorant of the growing evidence for belief in "the Marian dogmas" of the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption in the Anglican tradition . . . I suspect the latter. That having been said, however, it is significant that in Section 78 the ARCIC-II document is able to affirm:

- the teaching that God has taken the Blessed Virgin Mary in the fullness of her person into his glory as consonant with Scripture, and only to be understood in the light of Scripture (paragraph 58);

- that in view of her vocation to be the mother of the Holy One, Christ's redeeming work reached 'back' in Mary to the depths of her being and to her earliest beginnings (paragraph 59);

- that the teaching about Mary in the two definitions of the Assumption and the Immaculate Conception, understood within the biblical pattern of the economy of hope and grace, can be said to be consonant with the teaching of the Scriptures and the ancient common traditions (paragraph 60);

- that this agreement, when accepted by our two Communions, would place the questions about authority which arise from the two definitions of 1854 and 1950 in a new ecumenical context (paragraphs 61-63);

- that Mary has a continuing ministry which serves the ministry of Christ, our unique mediator, that Mary and the saints pray for the whole Church and that the practice of asking Mary and the saints to pray for us is not communion-dividing.

We have just celebrated Our Lady's great day, when she, having come to the end of her earthly life, was taken up "body and soul" into heaven. It is a day for celebration, for music, art, poetry, and - in some places - even fireworks! It is a celebration that as one of us, by God's grace, Mary shares fully in the victory of her Son over death, a victory that we, too, will fully experience in the General Resurrection on the last day. The Assumption of Our Ldy reminds us of the profound sense in which the task of all our theologies - even papal pronouncements - is to "catch up" with the instinctive convictions of the Church down through the ages. That was the case historically, in terms of this Solemnity, and it is certainly the case for Christians journeying from an "anti-Marian" perspective to the fulness of faith in our time. 

So, today, I simply want to share with you some quotes that might enrich your meditation.

"On this day the sacred and life-filled ark of the living God, she who conceived her Creator in her womb, rests in the Temple of the Lord that is not made with hands. David, her ancestor, leaps, and with him the angels lead the dance."

Heaven with transcendent joys her entrance graced,
Next to his throne her Son his Mother placed;
And here below, now she's of heaven possest,
All generations are to call her blest.

From: You Crown the Year with Your Goodness: Sermons through the Liturgical Year, 186, 190-191
What . . . is the Church celebrating today? That a simple human body, inseparably united to its soul, is capable of being the perfect response to God’s challenge and of uttering the unreserved ‘Yes’ to his request. It is a single body – for everything in Christianity is always personal, concrete, particular – but at the same time it is a body that recapitulates all the faith and hope of Israel and of all men on earth. Consequently, when it is taken up into ultimate salvation, it contains the firm promise of salvation for all flesh that yearns for redemption. For all our bodies long to participate in our ultimate salvation by God: we do not want to appear before God as naked souls, ‘not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life’ (2 Corinthians 5:4); and God, who caused bodies to die, ‘subjecting creation to futility’, has subjected it ‘in hope’ that it ‘will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God’ (Romans 8:20f). So we are celebrating a feast of hope; but, like all the New Testament feasts, it is celebrated on the basis of a fulfillment that has already taken place.; that is, not only has the Son of God been resurrected bodily – which in view of his life and death, is quite natural – but also has the body that made him man, the earthly realm that proved ready to receive God and that remains inseparable from Christ’s body. Today we see that this earth was capable of carrying and bringing to birth the infinite fruit that had been implanted in her. Today we celebrate the ultimate affirmation and confirmation of the earth.

From: The Blessed Virgin compared to the Air we Breathe
'Through her we may see him
Made sweeter, not made dim,
And her hand leaves his light
Sifted to suit our sight.'

DR ERIC MASCALL (1905-1993)
From: The Dogmatic Theology of the Mother of God in The Mother of God, E.L. Mascall ed. (London: Dacre Press, 1949), p. 43
The relation of Mary to the Church is (as the modern logicians would say) the relative product of two more fundamental relations. The first of these is Mary's relation to her Son; he is still man and she is still his mother. The second is his relation to us and to the Church; we are his members and the Church is his body. Therefore Mary is our mother and we are her children by adoption into her Son. This is not an exuberance of devotion but a fact of theology.

From Mary and The Christian Gospel p. 79
Surely it is possible to think of her Assumption as the end of the great Pauline series (Romans 8:28-30 Cf. 1 John 3:2). Mary, the woman whose predestination has been advanced to its full term of conformation into the image of God's Son and hers; Mary who was called and who responded totally; Mary who was justified and rejoiced in her salvation; Mary who has been glorified? If it may be so taken, and Mary may be seen as the one of us who has already 'got there', then it gives great force to the insistence of the Vatican Constitution that Mary is a sign of sure hope and solace for the wandering People of God; and it makes her a splendid trophy of the Gospel's grace and power.

From: Portrait of a Woman, quoted in Mary in the Church ed. John Hyland Veritas Dublin 1989, p. 93
When the vast repository of beauty and terror which we call Christian tradition, the corporate memory of all Christians before me, tells me of Mary's virginity, of her immaculate conception, and of her assumption into heaven, I believe that truths have been preserved for me which, though I cannot fully explain them nor define then, I neglect to my loss.

From: The Roman Missal
" . . . Raised to the glory of heaven,
she cares for the pilgrim Church with a mother's love,
following its progress homeward
until the day of the Lord dawns in splendour . . ."

From: All Saints'
They have brought gold and spices to my King,
Incense and precious stuffs and ivory :
O holy Mother mine, what can I bring
That so my Lord may deign to look on me?
They sing a sweeter song than I can sing,
All crowned and glorified exceedingly:
I, bound on earth, weep for my trespassing,
They sing the song of love in heaven, set free.
Then answered me my Mother, and her voice
Spake to my heart, yea answered in my heart:
“Sing, saith He to the heavens, to earth. Rejoice:
Thou also lift thy heart to Him above:
He seeks not thine, but thee such as thou art.
For lo His banner over thee is Love.

From: Jerusalem and all its Citizens
Who is this that cometh up not alone
From the fiery-flying-serpent wilderness, 
Leaning upon her own Beloved One? 
Who is this? 

Lo, the King of kings' daughter, a high princess, 
Going home as bride to her Husband's Throne, 
Virgin queen in perfected loveliness . . .
Who sits with the King in His Throne? 
Not a slave but a Bride, 
With this King of all Greatness and Grace 
Who reigns not alone: 
His Glory her glory, 
where glorious she glows at His side
Who sits with the King in His Throne. 
She came from dim uttermost depths 
which no Angel hath known, 
Leviathan's whirlpool and Dragon's dominion worldwide,
From the frost or the fire to Paradisiacal zone.
Lo, she is fair as a dove, silvery, 
Is Very Love; to Whom all Angels sing; 
To Whom all saints sing crowned, their sacred band 
Saluting Love with palm-branch in their hand . . .

Friday, August 9, 2019

When the world is in flames

Today the Church honours a remarkable woman, Edith Stein, St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, who was killed in 1942 at Auschwitz. The following is adapted from an article by John Coleman SJ in America Magazine

Edith Stein was born in Breslau on October 12, 1891, the youngest of eleven, as her Jewish family was celebrating Yom Kippur. Edith's mother (widowed when Edith was only two) was a strongly devout Jew. Edith always deeply loved her mother, although as a young woman Edith abandoned any explicit practice of Judaism. "I consciously decided, of my own volition, to give up praying", Edith later said. 

I have always hoped that the Catholic Church would declare Edith Stein a Doctor of the Church. She studied, first, at the University of Breslau where she was an active member of the Prussian Society for the Woman's Franchise. In 1913, Edith transferred to Gottingen University where she became a teaching assistant to the renowned philosopher, Edmund Husserl. In Gottingen, Stein also met the philosopher Max Scheler who directed her attention to the Catholic faith. 

During World War I, Edith cut short her studies to serve as a field nurse in an Austrian field hospital, where she treated the sick in a typhus ward and worked in an operating theatre. In 1916, she followed Husserl to the University of Freiburg where she wrote her doctoral thesis on "The Problem of Empathy". During this period of study, she went to the Frankfurt Cathedral where she saw a woman with a shopping basket going to kneel for prayer. "This was something totally new to me. In the synagogues and Protestant Churches I had visited, people simply went to the services. Here, however, I saw someone coming straight from the busy marketplace into this empty church, as if she was going to have an intimate conversation. It was something I never forgot." In her doctoral dissertation she had written: "There have been people who believed that a sudden change had occurred within them and that this was a result of God's grace." 

Stein had wanted to obtain a professorship but that was not possible in 1918 for a woman. Husserl, however, wrote for her the following reference: "Should academic careers be opened up to ladies, then I can recommend her whole-heartedly and as my first choice for admission to a professorship." 

In 1921, while visiting a friend, Stein read the autobiography of Saint Teresa of Avila. She spent the whole night reading it and said later :"When I finished the book, I said to myself, 'This is the truth.' Later she said of her life; "My longing for truth was a single prayer." In 1922, Stein was baptized on the Feast of the Circumcision of Jesus, when Jesus himself had entered God's covenant with Abraham. She reflected: "I had given up practising my Jewish religion when I was a 14 year old girl and did not begin to feel Jewish again until I had returned to God." After her conversion, she taught at a teacher training college in Speyer and was encouraged by a Benedictine Abbot to accept extensive speaking engagements on women's issues. She translated the letters and diaries of Cardinal Newman and translated Thomas Aquinas' Questiones Disputate de Veritate (On Truth). 

In 1931, Stein left the convent school and devoted herself to getting a professorship. She wrote her main philosophical-theological work, Finite and Eternal Being. She was offered a position at the Institute for Educational Studies at the University of Munster in 1932. But in 1933, Hitler's Aryan law made it impossible for Stein to continue teaching. She noted: "I had heard of severe measures against Jews before. But now it dawned on me that God had laid his hand heavily on his people and that the destiny of those people would also be mine." Stein, finally, entered the convent of the Carmelites in 1933. She went home, first, to visit her mother and went with her to the synagogue on The Feast of Tabernacles. Her mother died in 1936. 

Stein saw continuities between her new Christian faith and Judaism. She once said: "I keep thinking of Queen Esther who was taken away from her people precisely because God wanted her to plead with the king on behalf of her nation. I am a very poor and powerless little Esther, but the King who has chosen me is infinitely great and merciful. This is a great comfort."

Because of the growing anti-Jewish strictures in Germany, Stein was smuggled across the border to the Netherlands to the Carmelite Convent in Echt. She made there her last will on June 9, 1939: "Even now I accept the death that God has prepared for me in complete submission and with joy as being his most holy will for me. I ask the Lord to accept my life and my death so that the Lord will be accepted by his people and his kingdom may come in glory, for the salvation of Germany and the peace of the world." While in Echt, Stein finished her study of John of the Cross' mysticism, entitled: "Kreuzeswissenschaft - The Science of the Cross". 

In retaliation to the Dutch Bishops' letter, the Gestapo came on August 2, 1942 to arrest Edith and her sister, Rosa, like Edith a convert to the Catholic faith. Edith's final words to Rosa before being deported were: "Come, we are going for our people." A professor friend of Stein's said of her: "She is a witness to God's presence in a world where God is absent." When he beatified Edith Stein in Cologne in 1987, John Paul II said the church was honoring "a daughter of Israel who, as a Catholic during Nazi persecution, remained faithful to the crucified Lord Jesus Christ and, as a Jew, to her people in loving faithfulness." Surely, in honoring her, the church points to her clear bonds to the Jews who lost their lives in the Holocaust. 

Edith Stein had a prayer which is apt:

"Who are you, kindly light, 
who fill me now 
and brighten all the darkness of my heart? 
You guide me forward like a mother's hand 
and, if you let me go, 
I could not take a single step alone. 
You are the space, 
embracing all my being, 
hidden in it 
and what name can contain you? 
You, Holy Spirit, you, eternal love!"


Pope St John Paul II's Homily at the Canonisation of Edith Stein on 11th October, 1998:

The love of Christ was the fire that inflamed the life of St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. Long before she realized it, she was caught by this fire. At the beginning she devoted herself to freedom. For a long time Edith Stein was a seeker. Her mind never tired of searching and her heart always yearned for hope. She traveled the arduous path of philosophy with passionate enthusiasm. Eventually she was rewarded: she seized the truth. Or better: she was seized by it. Then she discovered that truth had a name: Jesus Christ. From that moment on, the incarnate Word was her One and All. Looking back as a Carmelite on this period of her life, she wrote to a Benedictine nun: “Whoever seeks the truth is seeking God, whether consciously or unconsciously”.

Although Edith Stein had been brought up religiously by her Jewish mother, at the age of 14 she “had consciously and deliberately stopped praying”. She wanted to rely exclusively on herself and was concerned to assert her freedom in making decisions about her life. At the end of a long journey, she came to the surprising realization: only those who commit themselves to the love of Christ become truly free.

This woman had to face the challenges of such a radically changing century as our own. Her experience is an example to us. The modern world boasts of the enticing door which says: everything is permitted. It ignores the narrow gate of discernment and renunciation. I am speaking especially to you, young Christians, particularly to the many altar servers who have come to Rome these days on pilgrimage: Pay attention! Your life is not an endless series of open doors! Listen to your heart! Do not stay on the surface, but go to the heart of things! And when the time is right, have the courage to decide! The Lord is waiting for you to put your freedom in his good hands.

St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross was able to understand that the love of Christ and human freedom are intertwined, because love and truth have an intrinsic relationship. The quest for truth and its expression in love did not seem at odds to her; on the contrary she realized that they call for one another.

In our time, truth is often mistaken for the opinion of the majority. In addition, there is a widespread belief that one should use the truth even against love or vice versa. But truth and love need each other. St Teresa Benedicta is a witness to this. The “martyr for love”, who gave her life for her friends, let no one surpass her in love. At the same time, with her whole being she sought the truth, of which she wrote: “No spiritual work comes into the world without great suffering. It always challenges the whole person”.

St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross says to us all: Do not accept anything as the truth if it lacks love. And do not accept anything as love which lacks truth! One without the other becomes a destructive lie.

Finally, the new saint teaches us that love for Christ undergoes suffering. Whoever truly loves does not stop at the prospect of suffering: he accepts communion in suffering with the one he loves.

Aware of what her Jewish origins implied, Edith Stein spoke eloquently about them: “Beneath the Cross I understood the destiny of God’s People.... Indeed, today I know far better what it means to be the Lord’s bride under the sign of the Cross. But since it is a mystery, it can never be understood by reason alone”.

The mystery of the Cross gradually enveloped her whole life, spurring her to the point of making the supreme sacrifice. As a bride on the Cross, Sr Teresa Benedicta did not only write profound pages about the “science of the Cross”, but was thoroughly trained in the school of the Cross. Many of our contemporaries would like to silence the Cross. But nothing is more eloquent than the Cross when silenced! The true message of suffering is a lesson of love. Love makes suffering fruitful and suffering deepens love.

Through the experience of the Cross, Edith Stein was able to open the way to a new encounter with the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faith and the Cross proved inseparable to her. Having matured in the school of the Cross, she found the roots to which the tree of her own life was attached. She understood that it was very important for her “to be a daughter of the chosen people and to belong to Christ not only spiritually, but also through blood”.

“God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth” (Jn 4:24).

Dear brothers and sisters, the divine Teacher spoke these words to the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well. What he gave his chance but attentive listener we also find in the life of Edith Stein, in her “ascent of Mount Carmel”. The depth of the divine mystery became perceptible to her in the silence of contemplation. Gradually, throughout her life, as she grew in the knowledge of God, worshiping him in spirit and truth, she experienced ever more clearly her specific vocation to ascend the Cross with Christ, to embrace it with serenity and trust, to love it by following in the footsteps of her beloved Spouse: St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross is offered to us today as a model to inspire us and a protectress to call upon.

We give thanks to God for this gift. May the new saint be an example to us in our commitment to serve freedom, in our search for the truth. May her witness constantly strengthen the bridge of mutual understanding between Jews and Christians.


From the spiritual writings of St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross

Ave Crux, spes unica!

“We greet you, Holy Cross, our only hope!” The church puts these words on our lips during the time of the passion which is dedicated to the contemplation of the bitter sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The world is in flames. The struggle between Christ and antichrist rages openly, and so if you decide for Christ you can even be asked to sacrifice your life.

Contemplate the Lord who hangs before you on the wood, because he was obedient even to the death of the cross. He came into the world not to do his own will but that of the Father. And if you wish to be the spouse of the Crucified, you must renounce completely your own will and have no other aspiration than to do the will of God.

Before you the Redeemer hangs on the cross stripped and naked, because he chose poverty. Those who would follow him must renounce every earthly possession.

Stand before the Lord who hangs from the cross with his heart torn open. He poured out the blood of his heart in order to win your heart. In order to follow him in holy chastity, your heart must be free from every earthly aspi­ration. Jesus Crucified must be the object of your every longing, of your every desire, of your every thought.

The world is in flames: the fire can spread even to our house, but above all the flames the cross stands on high, and it cannot be burnt. The cross is the way which leads from earth to heaven. Those who embrace it with faith, love, and hope are taken up, right into the heart of the Trinity.

The world is in flames: do you wish to put them out? Contemplate the cross: from his open heart the blood of the Redeemer pours, blood which can put out even the flames of hell. Through the faithful observance of the vows you make your heart free and open; and then the floods of that divine love will be able to flow into it, making it overflow and bear fruit to the furthest reaches of the earth.

Through the power of the cross you can be present wherever there is pain, carried there by your compassionate charity, by that very charity which you draw from the divine heart. That charity enables you to spread every­ where the most precious blood in order to ease pain, save and redeem.

The eyes of the Crucified gaze upon you. They question you and appeal to you. Do you wish seriously to renew your alliance with him? What will your response be? “Lord, where shall I go? You alone have the words of life." Ave Crux, spes unica!

Monday, July 29, 2019

"All earth was lifted to communion . . ." (Evelyn Underhill)

Since my teens I have been nourished by the writings of Evelyn Underhill (1875-1942), a widely acclaimed Anglican spiritual director who more than deserves to be rediscovered. An Anthology of the Love of God, published after her death, is a good initiation into her work.  Each chapter begins with a poem, many of which come from Immanence, published by Underhill in 1912. Immanence is available FREE for downloading from the internet. I love this particular poem, a deeply moving burst of praise to the Lord for his sacred presence in the Holy Eucharist:

Once in an Abbey-church, the whiles we prayed 
All silent at the lifting of the Host, 
A little bird through some high window strayed ; 
And to and fro 
Like a wee angel lost 
That on a sudden finds its heaven below, 
It went the morning long. 
And made our Eucharist more glad with song. 

It sang, it sang ! and as the quiet priest 
Far off about the lighted altar moved, 
The awful substance of the mystic feast 
All hushed before, 
It, like a thing that loved 
Yet loved in liberty, would plunge and soar 
Beneath the vault in play 
And thence toss down the oblation of its lay. 

The walls that went our sanctuary around 
Did, as of old, to that sweet summons yield. 
New scents and sounds within our gates were found ; 
The cry of kine. 
The fragrance of the field, 
All woodland whispers, hastened to the shrine : 
The country side was come 
Eager and joyful, to its spirit's home. 

Far-stretched I saw the cornfield and the plough, 
The scudding cloud, the cleanly-running brook, 
The humble, kindly turf, the tossing bough 
That all their light 
From Love's own furnace took — 
This altar, where one angel brownly bright 
Proclaimed the sylvan creed. 
And sang the Benedictus of the mead. 

All earth was lifted to communion then. 
All lovely life was there to meet its King ; 
Ah, not the little arid souls of men 
But sun and wind 
And all desirous thing 
The ground of their beseeching here did find ; 
All with one self-same bread. 
And all by one eternal priest, were fed.

Sunday, July 28, 2019

Our Lady's great day . . . come and join us if you can!

(Click on the flyer to enlarge it)

Saturday, July 27, 2019

Vale, Father Reg Mills!

Father Reg Mills in 2008

A Requiem Mass was offered last Thursday, 25th July, at St James' Mermaid Beach (on the Gold Coast, south of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia), for the funeral of much loved priest, the Very Rev'd Reginald E Mills. Both Bishop Ian Woodman and Canon Richard Martin asked that I put some words together to be read at that Mass. They are here: 

It was my privilege to preach at Father Reg's Golden Anniversary of ordination to the priesthood, back in 2006. So, that means that by the time God called him home, he had been a faithful priest, serving the Lord, and serving the Lord's people for almost 63 years!

I first met Father Reg in Sydney at a mid-week Christ Church St Laurence healing service in the late 1960's, and our paths crossed every few years since then, until my move to Brisbane in 1995 when we saw a lot of each other. Indeed, during my fifteen years in Brisbane I learned to depend on Father Reg for advice and pastoral wisdom, and it was to him that I would take my soul for a spring clean. He was a true pastor. He was never afraid to tell the truth as he saw it, but he always did so with compassion, love and grace. I am so grateful to the lay people and clergy who loved Father Reg and cared for him during his final months, for you gave him a little of the care that he selflessly provided for so many during his long and blessed ministry - whether as a Bush brother in Bathurst Diocese, as the legendary parish priest of Caloundra for 20 years, and after that stints in Sydney, too many Locums in Brisbane Diocese to keep track of, as a priest in the Traditional Anglican Communion, and most recently as Dean of Clergy in the Anglican Catholic Church, based at the Church of the Good Shepherd and Saint James Church Mermaid Beach. And if I may be very personal just for a moment, it was a huge blessing and an undeserved privilege for me to serve Father Reg for five years as his bishop.

Father Reg was representative of a kind of priest it is hard to find today as a result of what we can say without exaggeration has been the "ethnic cleansing" of real Anglo-Catholics from the Anglican Church of Australia. He had been deeply influenced as a young man - as were so many others who became priests - by the renowned Father John Hope, Rector of Christ Church St Laurence in Sydney from 1926 to 1964. Father John was in the forefront of the restoration of the healing ministry in the Australian Church, and he was open to the work of the Holy Spirit in what was to become known as the charismatic renewal. But he was first and foremost a real catholic Christian. In Father John's life and ministry, the catholic, the evangelical and the pentecostal coalesced happily, along with a range of other disparate and eccentric interests! Father Reg was nurtured in the wholeness of this vision of what it means to be a catholic Christian and a catholic priest, a vision to which he remained faithful right to the end, as everyone who has known him will testify.

So, when I was thinking about what to write for you, my mind took me back to the amazing Solemn Requiem Mass offered at Father John Hope's funeral at Christ Church in Sydney in 1971. Father John had requested that the preacher should be Archdeacon Clive Goodwin, Rector of St Philip's, Church Hill, in Sydney, which was as "low" as Christ Church was "high." At one level it was about unity, but at a personal level it was a sign of Father John's gratitude for the Archdeacon's friendship during his retirement. I was there that day, and I can tell you that Clive Goodwin really preached! He took as his text the pithy description of St Barnabas in Acts 11:24 "He was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith." He reminded us that if ever there was a successor to Barnabas, whose name means "Son of Encouragement", it was Father John.

Well, today in a quirky twist of apostolic succession, I want to say the same of Father Reg, so deeply influenced by Fr John! Fr Reg was a "good man", a manifestly good man. His goodness drew many to know and love the Saviour. He was unfailingly good and kind to all manner of people who came to him for help. He gave all that he could give, even to those who were never likely to be grateful. He befriended the lonely, and in all his dealings with others he sought to assure them that there was a way back to God that would bring them wholeness and life more abundantly. His goodness was apparent to all.

Father Reg was full of the Holy Spirit. Even to particular friends who could be a bit dismissive of his charismatic/ pentecostal experience (and that did hurt him), he would emphasise the importance of the fulness of the Holy Spirit and the supernatural gifts of the Holy Spirit, as being just as real today as in the New Testament era. A preacher of the "full Gospel", he was a practitioner of the healing ministry, and a great blessing to the sick and the suffering.

Father Reg was a man of faith. He exercised "faith" - trusting in the promises of God even in the darkest of the valleys he was called to tread. He really knew the Lord ... he didn't just know about the Lord. And we knew that he knew the Lord! He prayed. He worshipped. Whenever he offered the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, he knew that he was parting the Eucharistic veil through which we gaze into heaven and experience the unity of all things in Christ. He knew and firmly believed that even in the tiniest church here below when only a handful have made it to Mass, we are swept into the glorious worship of that great multitude that no man can number gathered around the heavenly throne. From this perspective Father Reg's vision could never be limited by what was "realistic." I think that's why he could look at a situation from the standpoint of faith (what I dare to suggest was very often God's point of view) and see possibilities that no-one else could see.

But he was also a man of THE faith in the sense of clinging on "to the faith once delivered to the saints" (Jude 1:3) when even dear friends of his fell for the deceits and empty promises of the kind of theological liberalism that has engulfed much of first world Anglicanism. In different ways he paid the price of remaining orthodox, and he is one of our heroes. Humanly speaking, the cost of faithfulness can be high indeed. 

Today we offer the one perfect and sufficient Sacrifice of Jesus for the repose of Father Reg's soul. We offer it for his final sanctification, we offer it in the words of the old Missal - as he would wish - for his "healing in eternity."

And as we make our way to the holy altar of God - you on the Gold Coast in far away Queensland, and I here in the south of London - we are surely allowed to imagine that our dear Father Reg, our friend, priest, pastor, intercessor, and brother in Christ, who taught us so much about walking with the Lord, can already hear, growing louder and more distinct, those words from Matthew 25:23, "Well done, good and faithful servant . . .  enter into the joy of your Lord."

"He was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith." (Acts 11:24)

A version of the traditional Anglican rite

All Saints’ Wickham Terrace, Brisbane (2004)

Recently I have had some requests for the modest revision of The English Missal I undertook at All Saints’ Wickham Terrace, Brisbane. 

When I became Rector there in 1995 I found that in order to manage the liturgical changes that had evolved during the previous twenty years it was necessary to have many little cards and pieces of paper on the altar in addition to The English Missal. Vigilance was also required in order to stay on top of which Sunday after Trinity corresponded with the particular Sunday in Ordinary Time whose readings we were using. 

I am indebted to my predecessors at All Saints’ for incorporating into the traditional rite some liturgical developments of the wider Church. They are included this book, which has been “test driven” over the years at All Saints’, Patmos House, and a number of other traditional rite parishes in Australia and overseas. Comments and suggestions from a range of friends have been incorporated.

In the tradition of The English Missal, the present compilation simply puts together a way of offering the Eucharist which justly claims a patrimony going back at least to the reign of James I. I love this form of the Western Rite, and my motive for providing the Missal for Sundays and Solemnities was simply to keep to keep it alive where it is still celebrated.

The Missal is for printing in black and red. This can be expensive in ordinary photocopy shops. But if you have access to a school, university or workplace colour printer/copier for which you pay just the cost price of copying, you should be able to print the entire Missal with the Readings on A4 sheets for about $50; without the readings, about $20. Comb binding can provide a suitable finish. In the case of “06” below, the most expensive option, stitching the A3 “signatures” and then binding with leather or vinyl might add $100 to the cost. The total amount is not unreasonable for a well-presented liturgical book. I note that run-of-the-mill new altar Missals can cost well over $400 in the shops.

So, here are the downloadable files. Those that include the readings are marked “*”.  

This is 256 pages (128 sheets printed both sides), and easily able to be bound with wire or plastic comb binding.

This is the same as 01, but with the 3 year cycle of readings and Coverdale responsorial psalms. It has 550 pages (225 sheets printed both sides), and – while a greater challenge – can be bound with wire or plastic comb binding. 

This is just the 3 year cycle of readings, and is useful for the Lectern. It is 300 pages (150 sheets printed both sides). 

04 Congregation Mass Sheets
Here are various service sheets for congregations, for use with the Missal. Each is just an A4 sheet of paper (or card)  folded in half to A5 size. To be printed in black and red.

A standard “Interim Rite” Mass sheet. 

This is the same as fm01, except that the word “Eucharist” is used instead of Mass

This is “more Missal, less BCP”, with the Preparation & Confiteor said by priest and people at the start, instead of confession and absolution in the middle. (The way Fr Bates celebrated weekday Low Masses at All Saints’ Wickham Terrace in the 1940’s)

A fairly standard Anglican form of High Mass for most of the year, containing the Asperges at the start and the Angelus at the end.

The same as fm04 but with the Vidi Aquam at the start and the Regina Caeli at the end.

05 Missal A3 signatures
This collection of documents is the Missal (without the 3 year cycle of readings) to be printed as A3 “signatures” for stitching and binding. There are 16 separate files, as each signature is 8 sheets . . . i.e. 16 pages. This format means that the book, though bound, will always open flat on the missal stand.
1,    2,    3,    4,    5,    6,    7,    8,    9,    10,    11,    12,    
13,    14,    15,    16

* 06 Missal and Readings A3 signatures This collection of documents is the Missal and readings to be printed as A3 “signatures” for stitching and binding. There are 35 separate files, as each signature is 8 sheets . . . i.e. 16 pages. This format means that the book, though bound, will always open flat on the missal stand.
1,    2,    3,    4,    5,    6,    7,    8,    9,    10,    11,    12,    
13,    14,    15,    16,   17,  18,   19,    20,    21,   22,   23,    
24,   25,   26,   27,   28,   29,   30,    31,   32,   33,   34,    35

Friday, July 5, 2019

The Church Bureaucracies Have to Go - David Mills

The following ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT ARTICLE was written back in 2004 by David Mills for TOUCHSTONE MAGAZINE.  I believe that it deserves a much wider dissemination, on account of the way that the layers of church bureaucracy and the manipulation of “representative” democracy in synodical processes is slowly strangling the people of God. (But don’t expect to see a copy of David's article anytime soon in your diocesan mailing!) It should be said that David’s observations are not “Anglican specific.” They apply across the board to all mainline churches.

Every time those who genuflect to self absorbed bureaucracies and manipulative managerialism get their way, gospel proclamation suffers, the life of the Spirit is quenched, and the kind of clergy who pour all their energy into nurturing worshipping communities tend to be mocked and marginalised.

Of particular importance is David’s observation (at the end of the article) of the crushing impact of all this on the non-bureaucrat clergy - and their parishes - who are the ones that actually inspire vocations. David also deals with the gospel principle that is at stake, in terms of how spiritual leadership actually develops . . . what some of us call the "Paul - Timothy" principle.  

David Mills is executive editor of First Things, having been editor of Touchstone from 2003-2008. His books include: The Pilgrim’s Guide: C. S. Lewis and the Art of Witness (1999), Knowing the Real Jesus (2001) and Discovering Mary - Answering Questions about the Mother of God (2009). Former director of publishing at Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry, and member of the Forward in Faith North America Council before becoming a Roman Catholic in 2001, he regularly wrote the "Letter from America" for New Directions

A few years ago, a high official in the Church of England announced that the new prayer books would cost the parishes millions of pounds but the Church of England would make a small profit. It was a slip, of course, but one that revealed how deeply those at the center of the Western churches identify their central structures with the churches themselves.

This is a very bad mistake, because these structures have an unfair advantage over the local and personal, from which the most effective, and generally the most orthodox, ministry come. They take from them more than they give, and misdirect their resources and energies even when acting quite sincerely and with the best of intentions. They are the sort of friend who “for your own good,” weeds your library, changes the settings on your computer, replaces your furniture, and rearranges your finances—and then charges you a large fee for doing so because “we’re all in this together.”

Abandon It
Any revival in these churches will require not the reform but the abandonment of the many layers of bureaucracy they have built up over the last few decades, giving the local bodies the authority to act as they think best and forcing the center to be as close as possible to the local bodies, in particular guiding, aiding, and inspiring them far less by law—giving requirements, for example—than by personal authority, and to rely for its support on the voluntary giving of the flocks it serves.

I am not criticizing bureaucracy as such, because it is natural and inevitable. A bishop begins a diocesan bureaucracy as soon as he hires a secretary or convenes a small group to help him with the finances. But some subtle line is crossed, and crossed quickly, when these people and their work become authorities in their own right and work more by rule and process than personal relation.

It is crossed, for example, when the bishop appoints someone because he has to satisfy some political need—to satisfy powerful people in the diocese, for example—not because the man is godly, wise, and discerning. It is generally being crossed when a bishop thinks he is being shrewd.

Bureaucracy is simply one way of getting things done, and the questions to be asked of it are whether it does them well and whether it does other things than it is supposed to do. I want only to suggest that it is not the best form of organization for modern church life. The resources and energy these bureaucracies consume (not only from those who work in them but from those who must spend time and money to oppose them) and the ends to which they direct their work make it harder for the churches to bring the gospel to the people who need to hear it, and make it much harder for the churches to say the clear word the culture needs to hear from it.

Centralized structures can do many things much faster and with less effort than individuals can. Yet they are complex machines far more likely to break down and needing far more energy to run, and require such an investment that no one wants to junk them when they stop working. Even when they are working well, they tend to develop a mind of their own and sometimes to go where even their handlers do not (consciously) intend.

And individuals matter: The most complex bureaucracy run by St. Francis of Assisi will express in its life more of the gospel than the most personal system led by Machiavelli. A committee may be a fellowship helping others or a bureaucracy insisting on its own way, depending on the man who appointed its members and the people he appoints.

My observations and examples will reflect the experience of the Episcopal Church, which as an activist I observed for almost twenty years, but examples could easily be taken from any other Western church. I will use the diocese as the example and the ordination and deployment of clergy as a test case, though what I say of diocesan bureaucracies applies even more to national bureaucracies because they are even less directly accountable to the members of the church and all the more likely to give themselves the sort of general, abstract projects that require a bureaucracy to pursue.

The Problem
The problem is not so much what the bureaucracies say. Who remembers 99 percent of the vast numbers of reports issued by the churches’ many boards, commissions, committees (standing and ad hoc), consultations, conventions, and councils?

If the bureaucracies only put out statements, no one would mind them much, other than lamenting the waste of paper. The problem is mainly what they do. Even at their best, they devour resources and energy that could be better put to local uses, and set the churches’ corporate witness and public agenda to reflect the bureaucratic consensus, which means a general and minimalist statement too indefinite to inspire and guide action. At their worst, they actively distort the churches’ witness and work by demanding too much of their resources and proclaiming an alien gospel.

This centralization harms the work of the Church more than it helps. I know this is a generalization, but it is based on a discernible pattern in the churches I have observed and a tendency in human institutions. There will be exceptions, when a problem is avoided or a ministry advanced through the structures. They do sometimes work, as when a man with subtle emotional problems not obvious to a priest or bishop is weeded out of the ordination process because it includes people trained to see them.

On the other hand, even in this case these people will at least as often reject a perfectly sane orthodox man because he is orthodox, though this is never the reason they give. They take his settled belief in the Creed as “rigidity” or “legalism” or intellectual immaturity, perhaps hiding deep insecurity if not something worse. If he shows any passion in his care for truth, he will be judged to be “angry” or to have “authority issues” or to be “unable to work with others.”

If he holds to the tradition on sex and ordination, he will almost have to castrate himself to prove he is not a misogynist. If he offends anyone on the commission, which he can do in any one of several hundred possible ways—using a generic “he,” for example, or criticizing a pop theologian some member of the commission likes—he will be said to be “pastorally insensitive.” Youthful clumsiness will be held against an orthodox man that would be praised as “youthful enthusiasm” in a liberal.

If he tries to defend himself against any of these charges, no matter how gently he speaks, he will be accused of “defensiveness” and an inability to listen to others, and probably also of the ever-useful “issues with authority.” (I have heard, with some bemusement, men and women who proudly rejected most Christian doctrines, including the ones the authorities of their churches insisted they hold, cluck with annoyance at someone who had “issues with authority” because he disagreed with some diocesan resolution which had no actual authority whatever.)

Any of these are enough to get a very good man turned down, even in a conservative diocese. Not, I suggest, only because they signal a theology some on the commission do not want represented among the clergy, but because they signal someone who is not adequately conformed to the process. In any case, they will tell him that he does not have “gifts for ministry,” though if they like him they may suggest he is better suited for an academic career.

Why Centralization Harms
So: on the whole and over time, the centralization of the churches and the expansion of their bureaucracies impairs and inhibits their work, for several reasons.

First, it tends to define the mission of the church as the continuing life and success of the institution as it is, which means, putting it simply, that its processes continue to process. The machine has been designed to run a certain way and produce a certain product, and cannot be changed, any more than a coal-burning power plant can be turned into a nuclear reactor.

Bureaucratic processes prefer “process people,” people who by personality and usually conviction fit into the system and will not work outside it. Commissions on ministry, for example, will be thought to work well if they run the needed number of people through the ordination process, even if the strong leaders and entrepreneurs the churches now need desperately (evangelists and church planters, for example) are weeded out because they are impatient with such processes and will not be socialized by them. The surest way to be rejected by the guardians of a process is to question their process.

These commissions will define “gifts for ordination” as the skills and personality needed to maintain the system more or less as it is. In other words, they judge people’s vocation by whether they will be good parish pastors who will maintain the parishes, which in practice often means inoffensive therapeutic types with a suitably elastic theology and a commitment to “be a part of the diocesan team,” which means, among other things, being happy to transfer a good part of the parish’s wealth to the diocese. Jesus would not have made it through the usual ordination process, nor would any of the apostles save Judas. I am not joking, though this may be unfair to Judas.

Second, to the extent that a bureaucracy does define a mission, it tends to define it as a moderated form of liberalism. Orthodox Christianity requires a set doctrine, but liberalism in its initial stages requires only the agreement to treat the doctrine as open for discussion.

This means that commissions on ministry will tend to favor centrist conservative and moderately liberal candidates. Even in conservative dioceses, they will have an articulate and often aggressive liberal or two, who will be able to obstruct if not defeat an unapologetically conservative candidate, and therefore can extract from him at least a rhetorical nod to “moderation” or “centrism.” The candidate will not be expected to speak as a liberal, but in a “nuanced,” “sensitive,” “pastoral” way—in other words, as a “moderate,” which is to say a tame conservative.

Even the conservative members of the commission will expect this, because it will show that he can “function in the diocese” and “minister to a diverse congregation,” and because they naturally come to like their liberal colleagues and come (“grow,” they will say) to appreciate the value of their point of view. And always, they do not want to be blamed for approving a man who will later do something seriously upsetting to the diocese, such as demanding more separation from the national body than the authorities want.

In my observation, conservative priests will always coach conservative candidates to speak tamely, and think they are being shrewd. The effect, however, is to teach these men to tell what are effectively lies, and to train them to lie in the same way, or worse ways, for the rest of their ministry. It teaches them to save their honest speech for a time that will probably never come, to make honesty a matter of strategy rather than character.

And bureaucracies tend to define their church’s mission as a form of liberalism for another reason: They are easily taken over by politically organized groups, both because such people tend to join them to advance their cause and because an organized group can easily be given a place in the process. Liberals are politically more active and better organized, in part because traditional believers are working on their sermons or running soup kitchens or raising their children or helping their neighbors.

In fact, if a group is dissident enough, it will give the bureaucracy something more to do, which tempts bureaucrats greatly. By challenging the church at some point, a dissident group poses a problem, and addressing problems is the reason such bureaucracies exist. Problems require meetings, and more meetings, and more members, and more money, and more time to address the diocesan convention. That the answer to a problem may be “This is ungodly” is not allowed to be said, because answering it would then require only one meeting and give no chance to propose new actions and ask for more money.

Power & Authority
Third, bureaucracies must operate by rules objectively and impersonally applied, rather than personal discernment sensitive to individual differences and gifts. In most churches, dioceses are so big and so diverse that bishops cannot know everyone well enough to discern whether they are in fact called to priesthood, nor can bishops guide them personally, form their reading and study, and teach them to pray.

For the testing of vocations and the formation of future priests, the bishop has to rely on a committee and its processes, to whom and to which he has to give up much of his authority. He cannot easily or safely refuse someone they approve or approve someone they reject, whatever he thinks of the candidate. The commission’s decisions, bishops will insist, are only “advisory,” but the political cost of rejecting their advice is almost always too high to pay.

Fourth, in a bureaucracy personal responsibility is diffused while power is concentrated. Or rather, the structure diffuses responsibility for those problems for which no one wants to be responsible, such as making statements on bitterly disputed moral questions, and it concentrates the power that people at the center want, such as the power to select and ordain clergy and increasingly (in the mainline churches) to appoint them to parishes even over the objections of the parishes themselves. The extent and complexity of the processes allow those in the center to hide when they do not want to be seen.

Fifth, the bureaucracies’ decisions, even the least important, demand more time and energy than they are worth, time and energy that would otherwise be given to local projects. To justify their existence, bureaucratic workers must keep producing reports, proposals, projects, resolutions. Because these come from an official body, they will be given priority in any meeting of the whole diocese.

No matter what real needs the people should be considering, an official report will be discussed earnestly, t’s crossed and uncrossed, i’s dotted and dotted again, a modified version passed in the end or the whole thing referred back to the committee for more study, and everyone will go home feeling they had “done some good work today,” without having done very much at all.

Distorting Decisions
A sixth reason bureaucracies inhibit the work of the churches is that they make decisions on matters best left to local parishes, and worse, the process itself distorts the decisions. Because they represent such a diversity, a diocesan committee needs to exclude or deny much that they should affirm, and that a local parish acting on its own would affirm.

A diocesan missions committee compiling a list of mission agencies worth supporting would be unlikely to include a group evangelizing Jewish people, despite its explicitly New Testament ministry, because evangelizing Jewish people is too controversial. Even if everyone on the committee approves of it—itself unlikely, as even a conservative bishop will almost certainly have appointed a token liberal or two, to cover himself while assuring himself that they can’t do any harm—the inevitability of angry protest from some influential people is usually enough to cause them to leave it out.

Even in conservative dioceses, such a ministry will become a “non-person,” like a Soviet dissident sent to the Gulag, about whom it is not safe to talk in public. And every diocese will include a large number of critics of any conservative venture, and in conservative or “moderate” dioceses some of them will feel a semi-divine calling to defend liberalism against the narrowness and intolerance of the fundamentalists. (And they will always find conservatives to help them do this.) As liberal clerics often have very small parishes, or parishes with big endowments to pay for large staffs, they have more time to organize and agitate than their orthodox brethren.

Seventh, as I’ve suggested already, bureaucracies encourage the growth of liberalism in their members and in the churches’ corporate life. The liberalism they encourage may be overt, as when an ideologically committed group captures a central structure and uses it to proclaim its peculiar innovation, or it may be implicit, as when it slights or relativizes Christian doctrine by treating it as an open matter.

Bureaucracies tend, even in conservative dioceses, to encourage a reticence and even timidity in pressing the Christian claims too far or drawing out their harder and less popular implications. When a significant and vocal minority argues for an innovation (doctrinal, moral, or liturgical), the bureaucracy’s instinct is to suspend the traditional teaching because it has become divisive, and to treat it as a matter for “dialogue” because (this unconsciously) any such exchange increases the importance of the bureaucracy by making it a necessary mediator and “facilitator.”

The bureaucrat sets up dialogues in which the question is treated as open, at which point, to assert the biblical teaching is taken as “short-circuiting the process” or refusing to listen to one’s brothers and sisters. Most conservatives, hoping to avoid conflict, convince themselves that it is only a discussion, and of course the truth will win in the end, if only they are faithful to the process and do not leave it to the liberals. The system, alas, is stacked against them. If they do not join in, the official results will inevitably favor the innovation, but if they do join, the official results will almost inevitably favor the equivalence of the tradition and the innovation.

The energies of the church are then consumed in trying to reconcile the irreconcilable, in dialogues that rarely change anyone’s mind, though they weaken many people’s faith by saying with the church’s authority that the question is open. (No one, after all, proposes a dialogue with racists or child-molesters.) This in itself advances the innovation.

This process effectively promotes a general skepticism about traditional Christian teaching, but sometimes a bureaucracy actively rejects that teaching. Bureaucracies do so not only as people with a cause take control of them, but also because their status depends upon their specialized expertise and their superiority to their clients, and superiority is most easily established by doing something radical. (As many people have noted about liturgical revisers.)

If a bureaucracy only affirms what has been done already or believed since the beginning, someone is likely to ask why it is needed at all, a question the bureaucrat does not want asked. Intensifying this tendency is the common self-identification of bureaucrats as “change agents,” who believe themselves called to do things that will upset the average Christian, who has not their expertise and insight.1

But Centralization Works
That centralization so harms Christian ministry does not mean that it does not work. It works very well, but it works on its own terms. Its processes process as they are supposed to do.

In the case of the ordination process, good pastors will make their way through it and some people who do not have a vocation will fail. The people inside the process will be satisfied with it, while admitting that it can always be improved, while the outsider will have trouble criticizing it effectively because its failures are hidden or visible only to a few.

No one will see the church that is not planted and the souls not brought into the Kingdom through that church, because the process will have weeded out the entrepreneur or discouraged the evangelist from applying, or will have made his life so difficult that he gave up. (I have heard smug clerics claim that no one with a real vocation would give up, as an excuse for doing to men they opposed anything they pleased.)

When a good man is turned down, only his friends and pastor and perhaps his parish will know, and they will usually get over it. In my observation, the pastor will get over it with unseemly speed and not learn from his parishioner’s experience anything about the structures in which he himself almost certainly has a part he does not want to give up.

To everyone else, the system appears to be working marvelously. The problems with such a system will only be seen in times of crisis, and then only by certain critical outsiders. When radical change is needed, the bureaucracy will be almost completely blind to it, and unless radically threatened (by a loss of funding, usually) will not easily be brought to see it. To change will mean to give up what they are doing, which very few of those in the center can easily accept.

What Must Be Done
The centralized, impersonal, and bureaucratic structures of modern churches exist. They serve a purpose. The people in them want them to continue, and the people outside them do not know much about them or do not care. Yet if it is true that, on the whole and over time, they deform and hinder Christian ministry, what should be done?

I am not proposing anything very radical here. Very few if any of the serious studies of the future of the Church in America give a role to the central structures. Even the Baptist sociologist Tony Campolo, in his much too optimistic Can the Mainline Denominations Make a Comeback?, calls for reducing the central bureaucracies and nearly eliminating their programs. Princeton’s Robert Wuthnow believes that denominations already function mainly as a source of identity, but not of programs or ministry.

Simply put, the Western churches must radically change the way they work. They must reorganize their lives, by exchanging a centralized system run by processes with impersonal rules and directed towards centrally chosen ends, for a decentralized system allowed to work and grow organically towards ends individuals within it discern and test in local practice.

The center will have to give up much or most of its power and lead by example and persuasion. It will have to demand very little from the parishes but offer them whatever unique help a centralized body can offer. And, institutional life being what it is, the churches must change their structures, in a way not easily revoked or evaded.

Changing the structures will not of itself bring revival, but it will make revival easier. It will certainly make the need for revival more urgent, by removing the structures the Western churches now use to avoid seeing and admitting their problems.

Reforming a church’s structure to one more appropriate to Christian ministry will require several changes, which can be summarized as adopting a patristic style of leadership and church life. (For our purposes, leadership may be individual, as with episcopally governed churches—including those who do not call their bishops bishops—or corporate.)

Patristic Style
What does “a patristic style of episcopacy and church life” mean?

First, it means that the relationships between the bishop and his clergy and people should be primarily personal, in that the bishop leads by persuasion and example and allows the parishes and people to respond as (and if) they will. Such bureaucracy as is necessary, for bureaucracies there will be, should be as small, as short-lived, and as limited in power as possible. To institutionalize this change, dioceses should ask parishes for support, not force them to give through assessments and quotas.

This is not a new idea, though the power of the churches’ central bodies has grown so great that people forget the mainline churches were once mostly local and personal bodies, who gave their national bodies what powers and money they had, and who were tied together by a common faith and ministry. Their authorities were in the same position in dealing with them as St. Paul was in dealing with the Corinthians or the Galatians: having to appeal to personal authority and the faith they shared, not to the law, canonical and civil, and their ability to take from dissidents their property.

The great models of this, of course, are to be found in the New Testament, in Jesus’ relationship with his disciples and St. Paul’s with Timothy, and in the life of the early Church. The early Christians shared what they had not because they were forced to but because the apostles had showed them how to live sacrificially and created both a general expectation that they would do so and a community that helped them to do it.

Second, such reform will usually require smaller dioceses, in which personal relationships can be nurtured, which happens only when the bishops and their clergy and people spend much time together, most of it spent in conversation, ministry, and prayer, not in satisfying an agenda. Their friendship will bear fruit, because disciples are more effective ministers—more committed, more sacrificial, clearer about their goals and work—than employees.

Such bureaucracies as inevitably and rightly arise should be created in response to real needs and from real commitment, the members chosen as much as can be because God has brought them, and the whole given but a short time to live. The bishop who feels a call to evangelism should call evangelists and give them a task and the authority to carry it out, rather than waiting until the annual diocesan convention to ask that a committee be appointed representing the diversity of the diocese, which will bring back a report to the next convention, including a study of the budgetary implications for its proposals and a coordinated multi-step phased-in implementation plan.

This would seem a simple thing to do, but surprisingly few bishops would ever act so boldly if they had the option of safely referring such a choice to a committee, or of creating a committee, which they may stock with orthodox people while putting in a few token liberals, whose effect will inevitably be far greater than their number should allow. To act so boldly would be to risk failure.

Structural Reform
Third, reform will require a less programmatic and more “spiritual” understanding of ministry and parish life, a renunciation of the rationalist mind that believes centralized bodies will work better than a decentralized system, a giving up of our belief in our own final powers of design and purpose. People will have to care more for faithfulness to the biblical standards than for visible results (so easily faked or misinterpreted) and thereby understand that the fruits of ministry are often invisible, or indirect, or to come.

The necessarily radical structural reform will, in other words, require a greater trust in the Holy Spirit and in his people. And considerably more difficult, a trust that the people are listening to the Holy Spirit. Only those confident in the Holy Spirit’s leading can do without bureaucratic structures and allow their fellow workers in the vineyard the freedom to act.

The temptation to direct and control by centralizing the process, or to hedge and qualify by submitting the ministry to a bureaucracy, is far too great—and not unreasonably, given the dangers—to risk without a real belief in the work of the Holy Spirit through his people. One is not going to “let go and let God” if one is not very sure God knows what he is doing and will do it.

And finally, for most dioceses in the Western churches, to so deeply trust in the Holy Spirit will require a revival and renewal, such as will bring bishop, priests, and people to a deeper unity in the Faith, a unity so deep that they act instinctively and in unity, without crippling disagreements or negotiations or the temptation to create a committee to do the work for them. I do not mean the faith as it has come to be defined in religiously pluralistic churches, which affirm a range of models and images and paradigms but favor none, but the Faith in the God who has revealed himself in the Scriptures and the consensus of Christians through the ages.

Not to put too fine a point on it, a revival will require the rejection of what is usually called liberalism, or better, the conversion of liberals to a fuller and more exactingly biblical faith. Without it, they will resist such radical reform of the system because liberalism needs elaborate structures, because it defines the faith as the accomplishment of this-worldly ends, and because it fails in the market and can only succeed by manipulating a system.

The Test
The test of the reform is evangelism: whether the bureaucratic or the personal styles of ministry will reach the world most effectively. The extraordinary growth of the churches in Africa and Asia, where bureaucracies are small and bishops and their priests are usually evangelists as well as pastors, suggests the superiority of the personal to the bureaucratic.

When their churches are growing so rapidly, even as they are persecuted for their faith, the West might wisely defer to their wisdom. It can’t claim to have had great success doing things its way. The Western churches might see the beginning of a revival if their bishops filed all the reports and resolutions, dissolved all but the essential committees, and canceled the legislative meetings, and went out into the streets of their sees with a bishop from Africa to tell people about Jesus.

1. My fellow editor James Hitchcock’s Catholicism and Modernity (New York: The Seabury Press, 1979), pp. 96–125, is one of the very few books that analyze the effect of bureaucracy on the modern church. Even such a highly praised study of the mainline churches as Thomas Reeves’s The Empty Church: The Suicide of Liberal Christianity (New York: The Free Press, 1997) does not.