from here |
Apparently the debate over women’s roles in the church
is raging again in Sydney Anglican Land. I have a Facebook friend who’s
fascinated by it; if it wasn’t for his posts I’d have had no idea. It’s a nice
sign that things have changed for me. I used to feel like these people were my
immediate family, and I had to do what I could to help my brothers and sisters see
and understand the egalitarian perspective. Now, they’re still my family, but
they’re more like distant cousins, and it feels almost strange to eavesdrop on my Great Uncle John (Dickson) and Great Uncle
Matthias (Media) arguing about where on the complementarian spectrum they think
the Bible places everyone. If there was less “BUT THIS IS WHAT THE PASSAGE
CLEARLY SAYS” and more talk about how we go about interpreting the Bible, I
might have felt hopeful and been tempted to stick around and listen more; alas, it seems no one’s
noticed their arguments are over the wrong thing, and so this debate will
continue for many years to come, most probably. Unfortunately for them.
///
It took us one week/around six weeks to find our new
church. We went there on the first weekend we decided to start looking and I
loved it, but it seemed imprudent (or something) to decide to choose a church
without comparing it to all the others in the area. So we went to all the others in the area and grew increasingly despair-y over the chances of ever
finding the perfect one, and then one Sunday I threw my hands up and said, “I
CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.” I was tired of smiling at strangers and hoping both that they’d
talk to me and that they wouldn’t talk to me, and feeling terrified that the
minister would say something that would make me cry during the service, and
trying to convince Moses that church was a good use of some of our limited
weekend time with Daddy around. So I decided to give up. Then later that
afternoon I remembered that we’d already found the right church ages ago, and
wondered if maybe we should just go back there. So we did, and we stayed.
I love it I love it I love it. I love that they hand
out instruments to “the young and the young at heart” and though the music is
often drowned out by the sound of out-of-time percussion I’m moved by the
lyrics and Mo’s exuberant tambourining. I love that we sing and pray to God as
“Father and Mother, Creator and Poet.” I love that they’re a community who obviously
loves those inside and out of the church, and those inside and out of the
Church; a community who understands that
Too often social action in evangelical churches is barely concealed evangelism, or at best the sugar that sweetens the evangelistic pill. It is the decoy to attract sinners onto our patch so that we might ‘bag’ them and convert them. Such a policy lacks integrity and those ‘sinners’ who get close enough to smell it get put off by the stench of hypocrisy that surrounds it. Pastoral care in the community should not be seen as a useful supplement to the real task, that of saving souls, but as an essential response to the call of Christ to care for ‘the least of these’ his brethren, amongst whom are included all who religion would want to exclude. Paul Goodliff in Care in a Confused Climate: Pastoral Care and Postmodern Culture (Pages 132-133)
It’s the church I’ve been dreaming of. Instead of bouncing
from foot to foot with gloves raised, ready to defend itself if struck, my
heart has learned that it won’t be attacked at church now and simply rests. It
seems crazy to me that for so long this on-guard, slightly-stressed feeling has
been a normal part of my church life; feeling completely at peace while there
is strange and new and wonderful. And, yes, I know it probably won’t last; no
church is perfect, and as we get to know people better and see how things are
run I’m sure there’ll be things that drive me bonkers. But I’ll continue to relish
this time and give thanks for it while I can, especially since these may be the
final days of our whole family going to church together.
///
I filled out a form the other day and felt slightly
naughty moving past the “Anglican” option when looking for an answer to the
‘Which denomination are you part of?’ question. Being part of the Anglican
church has formed a fairly big chunk of my identity for years now, and I’m still
figuring out who I am now that I’m not a member of that branch of the family, now that I feel more like a distant cousin. So for now
I’m just “Not an Anglican.” That’s my denomination at the moment.
Yay!
ReplyDeleteI'd just say from personal experience, stay off the parish council (or whatever your church's equivalent is) - church governance falls into that category, like laws and sausages, of things you don't want to see made :P
ReplyDeleteGood point. I've heard enough stories from friends on parish councils about heated arguments over seemingly unimportant things (like BANNERS, and whether they should be taken down or remain in the church) to make me see that this is very wise advice for where I'm at right now!
DeleteSo good you have found a place you can be. Can't wait to talk to you more about this when we see you. x
ReplyDeletewhere is this magical place of which you speak?! (I realise im still months behind 'real-time' on your blog, and so all might be revealed in due course if I continue reading).
ReplyDeleteI think there must be different levels of 'anglicany' because i seem to have escaped (relatively) unscathed, possibly largely due to an adolescence of learning from humble ministers who had obtained their education from other bible colleges in addition to Moore / who thought sermons about 'gender roles' weren't worth their time. it wasnt until uni, and a christian group which will remain unnamed that I even considered the possibility that God thought about my gender.
Having said that though - my goodness, how it would have been wonderful to grow up hearing women preach as often as the men. A lot of values are implicitly taught, even if not articulated verbally from the sermon. As I research the church websites of other denominations in my area, I feel sad - because 'white male' seems to be the standard for ministers, regardless of the brand of Christianity, and I suspect the Anglican church isn't the only denomination in Sydney riddled sexist assumptions.
Haha, it's strange having you reading a fast-forwared version of my life over the last 4ish years! I feel like I need to get writing again - you're running out of life to read about! (This feels very 'Stranger Than Fiction'y). The church I'm talking about here is our local Uniting church. I still love it, but I'm currently wrestling with the whys of church, a topic I plan to write about very soon...
DeleteI agree about the different levels of "Anglican," and I know I should be wary about labelling everything I'm running away from as "Anglican." I'm happy you're unscathed (and that you escaped!). And you're completely right about it not being the only denomination preaching (implicitly or explicitly) sexism, unfortunately. I wonder if it's a *Sydney* thing rather than an *Anglican* thing. I don't know.
oh.my.gosh. this IS Stranger than Fiction. Please write more! I am caught up to real time and I feel like I have been reading a novel, and I feel sad because I will never be able to read the ending :-( I feel like saying to you what I want to say to George R.R. Martin, "How dare you do other activities - get back to writing me an excellent story."
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