An Ecumenical Marriage, Part II

Guest Writer: Jennifer Thweatt-Bates

Maybe this marriage has always been ecumenical, even when we attended the same church services every Sunday. I don't think Brent and I have ever doubted that there are people God loves and saves over there in those other church buildings, you know, the ones with the polysyllabic names on the signs out front. Or at least, in the interest of accuracy, we outgrew the assumption God didn't care about those other poor, obviously confused people long before we ever met each other.

But what y'all want to know is the nitty-gritties, right? Like, do I go to his church and does he come to mine and do we say "your" church and "my" church and do I feel weird there and does he feel weird there and do we argue about the organ. Oh, and the hypothetical children: inevitably bound for confusion.

I go to Trinity on some Sundays. I prefer to go on Sundays when Brent isn't acolyting and we can sit together. I don't feel weird. And I never say "his" church or "Brent's church"--going to Trinity is going to church, just like going into Brooklyn to CCFB is going to church. So on some days I go to church twice. Lately I haven't been going to Trinity on Sunday mornings. (Comps have me panicked.) And I find that I really miss it.

Brent comes with me every so often as well. I don't know if he feels weird about it, this new status of having-been-very-recently-but-now-formerly-CofC. But I will say that I don't feel weird about it, and as far as I can tell, no one at CCFB feels weird about it either.

See, it's just that, despite the fact that I now say to people, "my husband is an Episcopalian," nothing has changed. Nothing that makes Brent Brent is different. He hasn't suddenly adopted a bunch of wacky ideas--the wacky ideas he's got are ones I'm quite familiar with from lo these six long years of listening to them already. He hasn't traded in his Bible for the Book of Common Prayer. He hasn't started quoting obscure saints. He hasn't changed his whole life direction in some radical way that disrupts everything that has gone before.

When we say, with Alexander Campbell, "Christians only, but not the only Christians," what do we really mean? Not the only Christians 'cause we know there are people out there who basically think, look, and act like we do? Or do we really mean, other Christians can have an altar and a liturgy and articulate their beliefs differently than we do, and still be Christian? When we start to consider ourselves "Christian" rather than Church of Christ, does it seem like such a huge and scary step anymore to trade in the secondary label for another secondary label? Will we be Church of Christ or Presbyterian or Episcopalian or Methodist when we get to the ol' Pearly Gates? Or will we just be human beings all equally dependent on the grace of God?

So here is how I think about it. Brent hasn't changed. The place where he goes to worship God is different, and the words he uses to worship God are different, and the ways their faith is articulated is different. But he hasn't changed, and his faith hasn't changed. And he can now express it more fully and more freely than before. So, in fact, the very opposite has happened: Brent hasn't changed; he's become more Brent than ever before. So to speak.

So, back to the nitty-gritties. Do we argue about the organ? Or the altar? Or the vestments? Or any of the typical theological hang-ups, excuse me, characteristic practices, that mark the Churches of Christ as a distinctive body of believers?

No. As Brent said in "Part I," we discuss things. We are always discussing things. This predates Brent's move to the Episcopal church by as long as I've known him. It's who we are. It's how we relate to each other. My first treasured email message from the boy (back in 1998) was a veritable treatise on the role of women in the church. Our first real argument was a hermeneutical disagreement on those verses in John about Jesus baptizing people (and, publicly and for the record, I state: he was right). This is part of what makes us "us." But neither one of us, no matter how strongly we feel about a theological stance, believes that it is our God-given duty to convince the other lest they suffer the terrible flames of hell. Most of our puny human theological disputes I figure God is either amused by or disgusted with, or perhaps God takes turns at being both.

What does this do to our hapless hypothetical Junior and little sis Susie? Well, frankly, folks, if you were hoping for normal offspring out of this household, you needed to adjust your expectations long before now anyhow. Sure, they won't have the "normal" Church of Christ upbringing, whatever that is. For me, that was a Sunday-Sunday-Wednesday round of church services and classes, to which one could never wear shorts regardless of whether or not one was coming straight from soccer practice, and which were absolutely un-skippable unless one was in fact knocking on the aforementioned Pearly Gates with a fever of alarming intensity. Y'all, that was never the plan.

What I figure will happen is this. On Sundays when Brent is busy doing stuff, I'll have the kids. Some weeks that'll mean sitting in the pew with them (I'll try to preserve the 2nd pew on the left tradition at least) in the Episcopal church Brent attends. We'll wave at Daddy and try to get him to crack a smile at an inappropriate juncture--those Episcopalians, after all, can be so serious... Some weeks, it'll mean taking them with me to whatever church I'm at. And weeks that I'm busy doing stuff, Brent gets to be the pew-sitter parent--at whatever church it makes the most sense to be at. It'll be somewhat like our current arrangement about who cooks dinner; whoever is less occupied with other things takes it on. Of course, that won't always work out optimally. Surely there will be some weeks, perhaps a lot of them, where we're both occupied with duties at church. But I imagine, if these churches are the kinds of churches we want to be a part of, that there will be someone we trust who's willing to sit with and scold our kids on our behalf during a worship service.

Fine, you say, but that's not the real problem anyway. The real problem is, how are Junior and Susie going to know what to believe when they hear different things taught to them at their different churches? And I say to you, in all sincerity, they won't. They won't hear different things. Because we're all Christian here. There is one Jesus Christ, and he is preached in both places. So consider our kids spectacularly lucky: they get a double dose.

Consider us lucky, too. We get to experience the joy of being in communion with two concrete bodies of Christ's church. We get to experience the richness of worshipping God liturgically and extemporaneously. We get to pray prayers as old as the church itself, and as new as the person uttering them that moment. We get to sit in a living room so crowded full of God's people that some of us sit on the floor, and we get to sit in a magnificent Gothic parish church with stained glass and gargoyles. Everyone should be this lucky.

Human Nature (Catechism Part 1)

I find it highly interesting that the Episcopal Catechism begins with a section on Human Nature. This really tells you something about the Episcopal Church's theology. It is clearly not a church that currently holds Calvinist views, even though there are some points in its history that it was influenced by Calvinism. This church does not believe in absolute human depravity or predestination. In other words, humans were created good rather than evil and free rather than bound to God's (arbitrary and unknown) will.

I have to admit that this was one of the important doctrines that attracted me to this denomination, since I consider myself something of a Christian Humanist. Don't get me wrong: I do believe that we humans have screwed up quite a lot. But I believe that at core we are good. We are capable. We are not debilitated from doing what is right and good. And it is on our shoulders to help make the world a more just place in which to live. Humans are basically good, because God created us in the divine image. So this Christian Humanism does not somehow "downgrade" God. Rather, God works through other humans to bring wholeness. As the catechism says: "God first helped us by revealing [God]self and [God's] will, through nature and history, through many seers and saints, and especially the prophets of Israel."

Personally, I would amend this opening section of the catechism to be more explicit about the goodness of the rest of God's creation. The rest of God's creation is equally good. There is no corruption of nature other than what we humans perpetrate on the earth and among its animal inhabitants. We humans are not somehow better than the rest of God's creation. We cannot do whatever we want with the earth and animals that live on it. Scripture places creation within the care of humanity. But this is a responsibility to take care of rather than merely consume. We in the Western world (and especially America) have interpreted these Genesis texts to mean that we are primarily consumers of God's creation due to our God-given superiority and domination of the earth. We must start caring for the earth and other living beings in a greater way, but one that does not sacrifice our responsibility to the human poor and oppressed.

The Catechism

I have decided to embark on the somewhat daunting task of commenting upon that part of the Book of Common Prayer called "An Outline of the Faith, commonly called the Catechism." It consists of 18 sections that summarize a particular interpretation of faith that characterizes the beliefs of many Episcopalians. Traditionally, the Catechism is used to instruct neophytes in the basics of Christian faith. Its preface says that it also functions as a brief summary of the Church's teaching and not a complete statement of belief. Interestingly, the Catechism is given in Q&A format.

My intent is to write a series of 18 corresponding posts over the next few months in order to take a closer look at the catechism. I am doing this as much for my own benefit as for yours, in order to further clarify my own views. I do not intend to quote large portions of the text, since you can find it here (take a quick look at the different doctrines that I'll cover, if you want). Rather, I will briefly summarize the main points and draw attention to what may be particularly Anglican. The bulk of my post will be my own personal take on the doctrine, which will often likely show my own theological idiosyncrasies. My intent is not to parrot Episcopal doctrine, nor to criticize it completely. Rather, I will attempt to explain it in a way that makes sense to me in the context within which we live.

An Ecumenical Marriage, Part I

One of the things that kept me from becoming an Episcopalian any sooner than I did was my marriage. In my life experience I have known a few people whose parents were of different religious persuasions and they were pretty normal. But most of the people I have known until this point in my life came from homes where both parents attended the same church. My assumption has all along been that a family should attend one church together as a whole. That is healthy for a marriage. That is healthy for children. All other situations are less than ideal. Jen is Church of Christ; so I had to be, too.

I don't know when I finally realized that this really doesn't have to be the only healthy possibility. It probably happened when I came to the realization that I must leave my previous denomination. I had always thought that if it ever came to this, my spouse and I would be on the same page. We are after all in the same religious academic industry. And we do after all pretty much agree on most theological and socio-political issues. But when my "ecclesial crisis" came to the breaking point and I had a serious conversation with Jennifer about leaving, I still (as unforgivably patriarchial as it was) assumed that, of course, she would be coming along with me. I was not intending to be a patriarchalist, but I just didn't have any other paradigm in my mind.

Now, I respect married couples in which one spouse gave up attending their respective denomination in order to make things easier and more smooth. And it may be necessary in some relationships. But it may sometimes happen out of an unnecessary compulsion. Is it really necessary for two committed people who are religious to attend the same church? Is it necessary for the well-being of the children? There are probably those of you out there with personal experience that seems to say that parents going to different churches is not ideal. Indeed, a divided Christianity is also not ideal. But it is reality.

However, I believe divisions in the church are held up more by attitudes of intolerance than by the actual doctrinal differences between, say, Baptists and Methodists, or the Churches of Christ and the Episcopal Church. We can maintain these doctrines and be ultimately united in faith.

Right now I believe our arrangement is working great. Jennifer attends her church regularly and I attend my different church regularly. However, we occasionally attend each others' church. We are both happy. We both have similar and diverse experiences to share. I have to learn how to appreciate her experiences without criticizing them. And she has to learn how to appreciate my experiences. And we have disagreements. And we have agreements. And we have discussion. But we do not have division.

Isn't this the ideal? That we can agree and disagree. That we can celebrate our various diverse customs in diverse buildings. That we can discuss. That we can eat at table separately but also together? And sleep together? And respect each other? And all of this happens within a context of commitment.

Granted, there will be practical issues that arise in our marriage, just as there are practical considerations when discussing ecclesial ecumenism. What if/when we have children? Will they be baptized as infants? Or will they be baptized only when they choose? Will they attend church with mommy or daddy? Will they be accepted fully by either church community? Surely there are things to work through. But they are not impossible issues.

I like to imagine children who grow up attending two different churches as spiritually bi-lingual and bi-cultural. Young children speaking two languages and living in two cultures is not such a bad thing. We forget just how easily children soak up both virtues and prejudices from their parents. What if the model was one of religious tolerance? Children are able speak two languages and function within two sub-cultures. I'm not saying there won't be some difficulties. But I'm convinced that they will be richer people because of it. And so will we.