A Sound of Sheer Silence

In a previous post, I mentioned that inclusive (or rather, in what is apparently the preferred form, "expansive") language was in the hopper at the Episcopal Church's General Convention, as part of the proposal for beginning the process of revising the Book of Common Prayer.  The proposal to revise the BCP, with explicit instructions to include expansive language, passed the House of Delegates, and was awaiting consideration by the House of Bishops.  This has provoked great discussion online, much of it good and some of it less so. To that end, a memorial was offered , with an impressive number of signatories.  I agree with most of what is stated in the memorial.  But I stop short at this paragraph, which is likely seen by the authors as the lynchpin of the whole project: We affirm that the Trinitarian language of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is not simply metaphorical but is an important part of the inheritance of the catholic faith grounded in the revelation o...

This summer, the Episcopal Church will be having its triennial General Convention, in Austin, Texas (a strange choice in my book, as Texas in July might as well be the surface of the sun).  Among the topics to be voted on is the initiation of the process to rewrite or revise the Book of Common Prayer, last done so in 1979.  Revisions to the Book of Common Prayer are truly a "third rail" and an inevitable source of controversy.  In fact, the Standing Committee on Liturgy and Music, the group that would be in charge of the mechanics of a revision, seems to be less than completely enthusiastic about the project, offering an alternative that would delay a revision for a least a decade .  And my sense, based on reading stuff on the Interwebs, is that it is likely that folks will take the out and kick the can down the road. The rector of my parish, who will be heading to Austin as a delegate, is resolutely against opening up the Prayer Book to wholesale revisions.  ...

1. Perhaps you are not familiar with the liturgical clothing item called an amice.  If not, here is a definition, courtesy of Wikipedia: The amice consists of a white cloth connected to two long ribbon-like attachments, by which it is fastened around the shoulders of the priest. Before the liturgical reforms of 1972, its use was mandatory for all Roman Catholic Masses, but it is only required today if the alb does not cover the priest's ordinary clothing. Many priests choose to wear the amice for reasons of tradition or to prevent damage to their other vestments due to perspiration. For the more visually inclined, here is an example: I have never seen a Catholic priest wear an amice.  I had assumed that it was basically a completely archaic item, joining such exotica as the fiddleback chausable . Why am I bringing this up?  Two Sundays ago, the rector at the Episcopal Church I attend began a sermon series on the liturgical vestments and their me...

There is no such thing as a discrete issue.  We like to believe that we are perfect scientists in the way we approach problems, slicing off every complication and condition in order to get down to the pure, uncontaminated, "objective" analysis of something.  All of that is self-delusion.  Everything exists in a context, and that context informs the way you look at any issue. It's very hard to parse out why we react the way we do to something, why we believe what we believe about something.  Sometimes it is the thing we think it is, sometimes it is the circumstances in which the thing is situated, and often it is both. For the last two months or so, I have been almost exclusively attending an Episcopal Church.  The parish is decent distance away from where I live, out in the suburbs, which is why it took me a while to find it.  If some nefarious group of Episcopalian conspirators were to design a parish for the purpose of maximizing the chances of getting ...

1.   I mentioned before  that one of the biggest changes in my outlook in the last 10 years or so has been a move from a singular focus on what is in my head to a broader perspective.  One of the concrete ways that this has manifested itself is in decision-making.  In my 20s and early 30s, in situations small and large, I fell into a predictable pattern.  Some situation would crop up, and I would get a feeling about it.  Call it intuition, call it a hunch, call it Someone trying to tell me something, but I would get a strong sense that one particular choice in front of me was a bad one and that I shouldn't do it. But then I would interrogate that feeling--why did I believe that?  What evidence did I have to support this supposition?  It was almost as if I felt I had to justify my decision to some public review board, and if I couldn't martial enough evidence to support my feeling, then I could not in good conscience take it to the board.  B...

It's kind of amazing to find someone whom you disagree about everything , but Fr. Dwight Longenecker is coming rather close to that point for me.   His recent post on Crux is less offensive than other things he has written , but I wanted to write about it because it hits a very specific pet peeve of mine.  Here, Longenecker defends the "new" translation of the Catholic Mass that was imposed on the English speaking world five years ago. I should say two things before I get to the meat of my objection.  First, Longenecker doesn't really defend the idea that the new translation is good because it is more like the Latin original, except for a throw away line about "accuracy and doctrinal faithfulness."  That's another rant, and I would encourage you to check out Questions from a Ewe's blog where she breaks down the supposed "accuracy" of the new translation .  The second point is that Longenecker suggests that this recent translation is what...