Trustees Offer Matching Gifts Through June 30Interim Dean and President Robert G. Bottoms writes:"For the past year, I have been promising you that Seabury Western Seminary was about to step into an innovative future. Today, in asking you to contribute to our Spring Appeal, I can tell you that this journey is well underway." Read more here, and help sustain the progress by making a donation, which will be matched by Seabury's trustees, here. |
Tom Ehrich: The End to Business as Usual
Writer, church consultant and pastor Tom Ehrich will present a free public lecture on "Turnaround Strategies for Our Churches," on Thursday, May 12 at 5 pm at the Sheil Catholic Center, 2110 Sheridan Road, Evanston. Earlier this year, Ehrich chatted with ECF Vital Practices about "The End to Business as Ususal." Read the transcript here.
Bishop Griswold: Praying Our Days
Former Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold, who taught a spring course at Seabury, has written a new book called Praying our Days.
Praying Our Days: Chapter I
Lord, Teach Us to Pray
In the Gospel of Luke the disciples say to Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray.” Ever since, faithful people — like ourselves —who want to learn to pray, have echoed the plea of the disciples. Sometimes the request has a hint of desperation about it because insecurity about how to pray is not uncommon, afflicting even those whose lives are firmly grounded in an ongoing relationship with God. Our ability to pray can actually be undermined by the fear that we don’t know how to pray properly, and by our concerns about the purpose and results of our prayer. We may find ourselves plagued by such questions as: Is God meant to answer? Is it selfish to pray for myself? Doesn’t God already know before I pray? Such questions have been asked again and again across the ages as prayer has been variously described and understood. This is not surprising; at its heart prayer is a means of encountering the Divine, and such encounters defy easy description. The Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer describes prayer as “responding to God by thought and by deeds with or without words.” It also identifies categories of prayer: adoration, praise, thanksgiving, penitence, oblation (the offering of our life and our labor in union with Christ), intercession (prayer for others), and petition (bringing our own needs before God). As these categories represent aspects of a relationship, they overlap and run together. Our prayer life reflects the various dimensions of our ongoing and ever unfolding relationship with God.
As we struggle to know how we are best to be in that relationship, we can take heart from the eighth chapter of the Letter to the Romans in which St. Paul tells us that we do not know how to pray as we ought, and that the Spirit prays within us “with sighs too deep for words.” Paul assures us that prayer is an impulse planted deep within us by God’s own Spirit. How liberating it is to realize that prayer, at its deepest and truest, is the activity of the Spirit at work in us rather than something we do on our own.
Madeleine L’Engle, a writer who was shaped by the Anglican tradition and a life of prayer, bears witness in her poem, “Word,” to the interior working of the Spirit who transforms our words into revelatory silence. We turn ourselves to the Word, and all the while the Word, who is the risen Christ, is seeking us and praying within us.
I, who live by words, am wordless when
I try my words in prayer. All language turns
To silence. Prayer will take my words and then
Reveal their emptiness. The stilled voice learns
To hold its peace, to listen with the heart
To silence that is joy, is adoration.
The self is shattered, all words torn apart
In this strange patterned time of contemplation
That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,
And then, in silence, leaves me healed and mended.
I leave, returned to language, for I see
Through words, even when all words are ended.
I, who live by words, am wordless when
I turn me to the Word to pray. Amen.
Madeleine L’Engle
In Psalm 27 the psalmist addresses God, saying: “You speak in my heart and say, ‘Seek my face.’” The psalmist is aware that deep within the Spirit is praying, “Seek my face, seek my face, seek my face.” The psalmist then yields to the Spirit and responds, “Your face, Lord, will I seek.”
In various ways, sometimes in the form of words that well up from deep within, sometimes in the form of a sense of yearning, awe, gratitude, or compassion, God speaks in our hearts and invites us to respond. Our prayer, then, is our response to God’s loving invitation. We are to give ourselves over to what the Spirit is already praying within us, even below the level of our consciousness. It is immensely freeing to know that prayer is always going on, and we are to tap into that reality rather than creating the reality ourselves. In order to do so, we must simply be present to the moment.
As a contemporary Benedictine teacher of prayer, Dom John Main, has said, prayer is “an openness to love on every level of our being.”
Prayer requires what the French writer Gabriel Marcel describes as “availability.” When you are “available” your heart and mind are open to the motions of the Spirit who moves within the depths of your being, and who also meets you through the words and presence of toehrs and the circumstances of your life. A single word of wisdom on the subject of prayer comes from a great teacher of prayer, Thomas Merton. Shortly before his death, he was asked how to pray. His response was: Pray. His practical advice puts me in mind of those of us who love to read and collect recipes but never quite get to the stove. As we learn to cook by cooking, so too we learn to pray by praying. Another counsel on prayer I have remembered over the years comes from Dom John Chapman, a wise English Benedictine monk. He says: Pray as you can. Don’t pray as you can’t. Though this seems obvious enough on the surface, at times in my life I have been tempted to emulate one or another of the saints by trying to make my soul fit their particular pattern of prayer. My success has been dismal! Since prayer is a matter of intimacy and companionship with Christ it is always ordered by the Spirit to correspond to the particular shape of our soul. In short, I am meant to meet God as I am, not as if I were St. John of the Cross or Hildegard of Bingen. And, you are meant to meet God as you are: praying as you can, not as you can’t.
Prayer, because it is a living relationship, has its seasons in which patterns that have oriented and sustained us may become dry and seemingly lifeless. At such times there is the temptation to blame ourselves for an insufficiency of fervor or attention. In fact, the Spirit may be revealing to us that it is time to move on to some new or deeper encounter with divine Mystery.I believe the fundamental question we each need to ask ourselves is this: How is the Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, seeking to pray within me and how can I be faithful to that call to prayer? At times ordered patterns of prayer such as those found in the Daily Office section of the Prayer Book can best serve us. At other times we may find ourselves drawn to less formal and more spontaneous ways of praying.
Because Jesus tells us the Spirit “blows where it wills” we must be prepared for those times when the response to our prayer is not what we expected, and also for those instances when we feel our prayer has not been heard. Sometimes when we pray we ask for “answers,” and when no answer seems to be forthcoming we are afraid our prayer has gone unheeded. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel reminds us that the purpose of prayer is not information but communion with the Divine.
That the fruit of our prayer can catch us by surprise indicates the sovereign freedom of the Spirit. I think God wants us to know that the fruit of prayer is the gift of the Spirit and not the result of our efforts. What God chooses to give us, and when God chooses to give it to us, is up to God, as much as we might want certain graces or gifts in particular circumstances. It is always God’s choice to take our prayer and use it in whatever ways God in God’s love for us desires. We might pray earnestly for quiet confidence and find ourselves continuing to feel anxious. Yet, later on, at a time when we would normally be fearful, we are filled with an unexpected inner reservoir of peace and courage. We are able to act in ways that are far beyond our own perceived capabilities.
I would note here that a distinction is sometimes made between prayer and worship, with the underlying assumption that prayer is something personal and private while worship is in a different category. I prefer to think of personal prayer and corporate prayer — that is, liturgical prayer — as profoundly related, sustaining and enriching one another.
Our encounter with God, which is at the heart of prayer, can occur as we pray alone in a quiet corner as well as in the midst of a liturgy. There are times when the proclamation of scripture, the words of the preacher, the prayers of the people, the exchange of the peace, the receiving of communion draw us beyond ourselves into an encounter with Christ. Our prayer in our quiet corner may have worked in us an increased capacity to recognize Christ’s presence in the liturgical assembly. At the same time, our liturgical prayer can inform and deepen our personal prayer outside the liturgy.
All prayer, and indeed the desire to pray, flows from the same divine source and leads us deeper into the mystery we call God, which is also the mystery of who we, in grace and truth, are called to be. And indeed prayer is not simply an activity but also a way of being. Through prayer our consciousness is transformed and conformed to the mind of Christ, and we begin to see and act as Christ in us sees and acts. As Julian of Norwich tells us, prayer “ones” us to God.
--From Praying Our Days: A Guide and Companion, by Frank T. Griswold (ISBN: 978-0-8192-2359-3) and used here with permission of Morehouse Publishing, an imprint of Church Publishing Inc., New York. For more information, visit www.churchpublishing.org.
Bishop Breidenthal on Gathering the Pieces
The future of theological education and the future of the local congregation are closely connected. In both cases, and for similar reasons, the past is largely shattered, and we are engaged in gathering the pieces that are left.
We all understand what congregations are dealing with, so let me start there. The old parish model, with priest as service provider and congregation as passive client, is dead. We tend to think it is dead because we can’t afford it anymore. I don’t buy that. That model is dead because, given the marginalization of religion in our culture, people of faith are no longer content to be passive, and people who are curious about faith are quickly bored by this arrangement. Congregations are responding by exploring new patterns of organization and authorization that stress the shared responsibility of laity and clergy to proclaim and witness to the Gospel. In my diocese we call this common ministry, and we are working hard to explore ways to make the ministry of all the baptized a reality.
Unfortunately, this is happening against the backdrop of huge declines in church attendance, dwindling financial support, and the alarming absence of young adults. The emergence of the “fresh expressions” movement is seeking to respond to this crisis by focusing on house churches; worship gatherings in coffee houses and bars; the exploration of intentional community in the so-called neo-monasticism; the recovery of mystery and invocation of God through all-night vigils, drum circles, incense, silence and contemplative prayer; the development of a sense of common mission through shared community service; and the promotion of intellectual enquiry through dialogue sermons, study groups, and interfaith engagement.
This is all good. But what strikes me about all these initiatives is that none of them addresses the central problem, namely, that the regular gathering of the church on the Lord’s Day is in peril. The shards of a shattered tradition of assembly are being taken up by a new generation and developed as fragmented alternatives to it. I hope that these ecclesial initiatives outside the local congregation will ultimately bring congregations back to life as centers of witness, intellectual ferment, and encounter with God – at whatever time of day they meet. In the meantime, the danger is that we will forget that the regular coming together of the people of God is essential, since we are called to be a microcosm of the human race and a community in which the disciplines of reconciliation and cooperation across all lines are practiced and modeled. This is, in fact, what young adults are yearning for. My prayer is that the “fresh expressions” movement will keep this larger goal in mind, and not content itself with spiritual adventures for small groups on the edge.
This brings me to the situation of our seminaries and of theological education generally. Here, too, we are dealing with an old model that is no longer viable: providing an intense formation experience for an elite group set apart for ordained ministry. But there is much that is good in this kind of formation, and we need to retain it. For almost two centuries, our seminaries provided an opportunity for rising clergy to experience church as a communal spiritual discipline centered on mutual accountability, common worship and energetic debate. That we survived the old parish model as long as we did is due in large part to this vision of the church as a school for ministry. Our seminaries shored up clericalism, but they also promoted socially engaged and theologically fluent congregations. Indeed, these days, our seminaries continue to hold up this congregational ideal, even as – especially as – they reject clericalism in favor of common ministry. Many of the elements of the emergent church are present there – experimental liturgy, neo-monastic community, a balance of action and contemplation, with plenty of opportunity for individual exploration – within the framework of a still-unfractured over-arching community. At their best, our seminaries are brilliant models of congregational life.
So it is all the more important that we don’t allow the whole edifice to shatter, as it has in so many of our congregations. We are not yet at the point of gathering together scattered pieces of a lost seminary tradition, but as we are close. This is the moment to seize the heart of this tradition and run with it, not only for the sake of theological education in the church, but for the eventual recovery of a robust congregational life across the church. The heart of this tradition is formation in community through shared witness, constant study, common worship, and community service. We cannot do without institutions of learning that live out these disciplines in close engagement with dioceses and congregations. Nor can we do without leaders, lay and ordained, who have been shaped by these disciplines.
This does not mean that the old M.Div. model needs to be retained in every case. Seabury-Western has bravely jettisoned that dimension of its ministry, and should be applauded for its courage. But the notion of the church as a community being shaped through witness, study, worship and service is central. This is what our seminaries have really been about, and this is what our congregations really need.
Suzanne Watson Epting: Making Room for the Spirit
A few weeks ago I was sitting at a table with a few colleagues when I mentioned being excited about my work with Seabury.
“But Seabury’s not open anymore,” one of them remarked.
“Oh, yes, they are.” remarked another. “But what can they do now? There aren’t any degree programs anymore.”
Yet another person asked, “How can they be there if they sold all their buildings?”
I did what I could to correct the perceptions. I shared my excitement about the possibilities I personally still envision for Seabury – Seabury NEXT we call it. And since that time, I’ve been giving thanks for the wisdom and courage of those in leadership who have made and continue to make room for the Spirit.
I hearkened back to 1973. I was working full time in a community-based agency that was greeting and equipping adults with developmental disabilities who had been institutionalized in Minnesota. Some were deaf, but had been diagnosed instead with mental retardation. Some had Down Syndrome and were simply victims of a society that made little room for different looks, different levels of intelligence, and different gifts. Some of them had autism, something about which we were just in the early stages of understanding. One of them had simply been left in a basket on the church steps.
I was hired because of the volunteer work I’d done as a young person, because of my camp counseling experience and because I had three years of college. People weren’t eager, in those days, to work in community-based programs for those who were recently de-institutionalized.
But I needed more education. I couldn’t fit multiple special education classes into my fulltime schedule at work. Night classes would only take me so far. An academic advisor at the University of Minnesota suggested I consider a new program they were implementing. It was called University Without Walls. And as I’ve thought about Seabury NEXT and my own part in it, I’ve gone back to some of the literature about University Without Walls (UWW).
I re-read an article from Time magazine from 1972 in which I was reminded how revolutionary it was for educators to be saying achieving a college education didn’t have to take place only in a classroom with a prescribed curriculum. It was my privilege in UWW to work with an advisor and a team who helped me create my own courses, recruit my own faculty, articulate my own learning plan, and incorporate ways to measure my learning and be accountable for it. In that way, I was able to use many professionals in the community – doctors, nurses, psychologists, groundbreakers in community-based programs.
In “Unpublished Results: The University Without Walls Experiment” by Rick Hendra and Ed Harris from the University of Massachusetts, they revisit some of the “organizing concepts” which defined the philosophy of the program: inclusion of a broad range of persons, some beyond the usual college age, with significant life experience; involvement of students, faculty and administrators in the design and development of each learning unit; development of special seminars to prepare students to learn on their own and to prepare faculty for new instructional procedures; flexible time units tailored to student needs; use of a broad array of resources for teaching and learning, recognizing that students also learn from their own experiences; use of adjunct faculty involving many persons outside the regular educational institution (artists, scientists, dancers, physicians, lawyers,etc.); opportunities for students to use the resources of other UWW units at other colleges; new approaches to evaluation that will appraise the student’s cognitive and affective learning. [i]
That “experiment” was integrated into countless college and university programs and is now known by many other names. Those of us who were privileged to experience it learned, perhaps most importantly, what it means to create a learning community.
That’s what we’re supposed to be good at in the church. Community. In Seabury NEXT we now have something like a seminary without walls – with lots of room for the Spirit to work. Freed from many of our former institutional maintenance concerns, we might just be more likely to follow the nudges and whispers of the Spirit. We might just discover the teachers and learners who long to interact with saints who are scholars, or those who are leading the way in our communities. We might be able to come to a class over three weekends and find people like us. Or we might discover other saints in our online classroom who are living in the Cameroon, or bringing ministry experiences to us while being deployed in Iraq. We might even have clergy and lay people in the same class! And if we’re lucky, we might just get past that kind of language and recognize the primary baptismal identity that binds us.
Bless the faculty scholars and administrators and trustees for taking this chance. And bless you who are reading. Give thanks for what these scholars are giving to the church. Give thanks that they are making room for the Spirit. And the next time you’re having coffee with someone who is eager to learn about God’s presence, God’s mission, God’s love – remember to tell them there’s a place where we’re making room for the Spirit to live the covenant and equip the saints in new and exciting ways.
--Suzanne Watson Epting is a deacon and director of the North American Association for the Diaconate
[i] The University Without Walls Experiment: www-unix.oit.umass.edu/~hendra/Unpubilshed%20Results.html
John Denson: Introducing NEXT
But if we can live through this
Are we there yet?Are we there yet?
Brendan Milburn and Valerie Vigoda, ©2002
This song, written after the terrorist attacks on 9/11, reflects the existential anxiety in the United States at the beginning of the 21st century. Unintentionally on the part of the couple that wrote the song, it also reflects the deep feelings of anxiety in religious institutions today. Not many years ago, we lived in what was often described as a Judeo-Christian society in which the majority of Americans claimed affiliation with a local congregation. Well, to quote the song, “Those days are over, darling.”
Let me share a few survey results:
- According to the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, worship attendance exceeds 50% of the population in only six states (all in the Bible Belt except for Utah). The national average for worship attendance is 39% (in New Hampshire, where I live, it is 22%).
- Today there are more Americans claiming “no religion” (15%) than Episcopalians, Lutherans, and Methodists combined (25% of Americans age 18-29 claim “no religion”)
- The median congregation in the Episcopal Church has 164 members and an average Sunday attendance of 69.
Some like to say we live in a post-Christian society. I think it might be more accurate to say we live in a “post-institutional-religion” society.
For clergy and lay leaders in traditional congregations, it is time to start asking big, existential questions. Who are we? Why are we here? How will we live and practice the faith in a new cultural context? And in order to avoid the temptation to do nothing but talk, I believe the way to answer the first two questions is by reflecting and acting on the third. The core task of the institutional church is to redefine our congregational identity and purpose through the way we practice the faith.
In essence, this is what Seabury is doing right now, seeking a new post-institutional identity and purpose by changing the way it practices theological formation. Seabury is moving forward with a new vision, yes, but also, and perhaps most importantly, with a new way of being and doing its core task: forming and educating lay and ordained leaders. Seabury’s new identity is emerging as it changes its practices.
This is a risky strategy, letting go of long-held ways of doing things in order for new possibilities to emerge. Yet, it is time for congregations to do the same, to become post-institutional communities centered on Jesus and our core values and tasks. In the name of Jesus, it is time to focus on redefining communities so that they create loving relationships, deepen trust, empower faithful action, establish boundaries that encourage inclusion, cultivate and foster an interdependent and diverse community, and work for the common good that God intends for all creation.
So, where do we find the hope that will sustain and strengthen the church in this post-institutional society? The majority (77%) of those Americans claiming they have “no religion” continue to believe that God exists. They may have given up on institutions, but they still yearn for a relationship with the divine. Here’s our chance, if we choose to live faithfully through this post-institutional age and offer Jesus and a new community to the world.
We've all been suicidal
We've all been laid low with regret
We can't just sit here idle
We're not quite six feet under yet
But if we can live through this
We will come out into the sunshine
If we can live through this
We will be of one heart and one mind
If we can live through this
Maybe we'll get the cosmic punch line
If we can live through this
Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
Brendan Milburn and Valerie Vigoda, ©2002
The Rev. John E. Denson, Jr., D.Min.
Rector, Christ Church, Exeter, New Hampshire
http://livingfaithfullyinthevillage.blogspot.com/
Daniel Aleshire: The Future Has Arrived
At the recent Association of Theological Schools biennial meeting, Executive Director Daniel Aleshire gave the keynote address:
"The future has arrived and brought a multitude of changes in cultural norms, educational models, international tensions, business practices, and religious presence. Theological schools need to change to meet the needs of changed and changing religion, and there are a few things worth remembering along the way."
Read Aleshire's entire address on the ATS website here.
Square Pegs
Several years ago I was the director of a nonprofit emergency services center. We provided groceries, toiletries and other basic needs to thousands of people in the Denver metro area. This agency had a capable staff, but the core of our programs were delivered by an amazing group of volunteers. These volunteers were wildly diverse – they came representing every theological and political persuasion, every age group, and every socio-economic background. We were a motley crew, and we loved learning how to work together!
At one point, a planning team decided to replace the complicated process of checking people in by hand with a quick-and-easy computerized process. At first, the idea was met with some skepticism. We heard, ‘We’ve always done it by hand,’ ‘It gives our guests a sense of personal attention,’ and ‘A lot of our volunteers are not going to want to learn how to use computers.’
Despite the criticism, we knew we had to move forward with the plan. It wasn’t that what had been done in the past was bad or wrong, it was just no longer possible. We had outgrown paper processing. We had to be able to create reports in real time. As a concession, however, we decided to leave one electric typewriter on the front desk. This typewriter was massive. It ‘hummed.’ Its hue was a less than charming goldenrod color.
Over time, the typewriter was rarely used, and eventually it became a piece of unnoticed office furniture on the front counter. We may have even put a cover over it. But we kept it because it was a comforting symbol. One day new volunteer, a teenager, came in to be trained at the front desk. She sat down in front of the ‘symbol’ and asked, in all seriousness, “What is that thing?” She had never seen a typewriter in her life! We all burst into laughter, realizing how far we had come in such a short time.
I was reminded of that typewriter last week when Seabury students met with a visiting team from the Association for Theological Schools. One of my classmates observed that when he was looking for a seminary just a few years ago, he knew that he wanted a theological education offering quality and depth. But he also needed to be a long-distance ‘commuter’ student who attended classes over a period of several years. At the time he applied – just a few years ago - his request was met with uncertainty. Could theological education be done differently? Would the experience he was describing lack personal attention and formational opportunities? Despite the skepticism, this student persisted. He is now a student at Seabury. At first he says he felt like a square peg in a round hole. But he went on to note that within just a few years, his need for a flexible, creative, adaptable theological education is no longer the exception to the rule. We all burst into laughter realizing that we have all become – and are embracing – our square-pegged-ness!
In my first year of seminary I took a course at Seabury co-taught by our visionary faculty. It was a course in missional theology called Gospel Mission. They taught a vital concept that seems so apparent now, but it was life changing for me at the time. I learned that the Church does not have a mission. It is God who has a mission, and we are invited to be a part of it. And at some point I got it – that we cannot save, or grow, or preserve the Church. We are not meant to maintain systems and institutions and ecclesiastical versions of electric typewriters for our sakes. We are invited instead to discover God’s mission in our own time, in our own contexts. It’s not just Seabury that is changing. Theological education is changing. The social and cultural landscape is changing. Everything is changing.
In retrospect, I am filled with gratitude that I was part of the Seabury community in this transitional time. I believe that my classmates and I have been prepared in a very unique way to embrace and to lead a changing church. We are left with very few illusions that things will stay the same. We have gained a realistic outlook grounded in a deep theological conviction that God is doing something new! Look for us in the photos of this year’s Commencement celebration– the wildly diverse motley crew, the last residential MDiv class in this particular iteration of Seabury’s life, going on to what’s NEXT -- to something new! We are square-pegged Partners in the Mission of God.
Beth Taylor, Seabury Class Convener, MDiv, 2010
Diocese of Colorado
The Unique Charism of the Laity
“There are many different gifts but it is always the same Spirit; there are many different ways of serving but it is always the same Lord. There are many different forms of activity, but in everybody it is the same God who works in them all.” (1 Cor. 12:4-6)
St. Paul writes about charism with a double meaning. In the broad sense charism is the “gift” received at baptism for the Christian life. In the stricter sense, charism is the special and unique gifts that each one of us has received to be put to use for God’s work in the world.
In the Episcopal Church, all people come to the baptismal font and are received by the Holy Spirit into the Community of Christ. Reinforced by our baptismal covenant and the Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer, lay people make promises to God in the context of our Christian communities. Our baptism brings us the gift of the Christian life, but our individual charism are the gifts we have been given that enable us.
Often, lay people and clergy tend to think of lay ministry, or even baptismal ministry, as the ministry done by the laity inside the Church. But the ministry of the laity mostly occurs outside of the church. While the roles lay people have assumed over the years as readers, Eucharistic ministers, lay preachers, pastoral visitors, vestry members and others, are very important roles in the life and worship of a congregation, most of our ministry is done in the context of our “secular” communities, our homes and our workplaces.
This is good, for we are doing God’s work in the world. The problem is that these important ministries go largely unsupported and unrecognized by the church. Often only we are aware that the ministry we do in our daily lives is done in response to our baptism and our call as a lay minister. Often only we know what our unique charism is, instead of bringing those gifts into the context of our Christian community where they can be affirmed and joined with other gifts in the Body of Christ for the purpose of intentional ministry. Just as lay members of search committees and commissions on ministry and standing committees affirm the charism of clergy and bishops, the clergy and bishops also have a responsibility to help the laity identify and use our charism. The larger responsibility of the laity is to claim our baptism as our life’s primary vocation and then to use our charism in our secondary vocations in God’s world.
Just as a call to the ordained ministry comes with certain responsibilities, so does the call to lay ministry. In the Book of Common Prayer our catechism answers the question, “What is the ministry of the laity?” with this:
“The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.”
As baptized lay persons, we are responsible to understand not only what our ministry is, what particular charism we bring to it, but also to know how we will “carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world.” This takes some understanding, commitment and education.
The landscape of theological education in the Episcopal Church is changing. In the midst of that transition, we have the opportunity to emphasize the importance of educating lay people for ministry. With high-quality, flexible enrichment programs and continuing education, we can help the two million lay members of God’s Episcopal Church understand the promises we make at our baptism and why they are the most important promises we will make in our life.
The promises we make at our baptism sustain us. If we can rise to the challenge of putting the unique charism of the laity to intentional and prayerful use, they will also sustain the church.
Bonnie Anderson, D.D., President, The House of Deputies
Seabury NEXT: What We Profess by Our Faith
For the Episcopal Church, The Book of Common Prayer 1979 represents a sea change from just a few generations ago in the way we understand the ministry of representing Christ and the church. Ministry is rooted not in ordination but in Holy Baptism. The Holy Spirit lavishes gifts for ministry on all who have been baptized into the death and resurrection of Christ. The ordained are leaders and servants of the whole assembly of the baptized, equipping and energizing their ministries in and for the world. This view of ministry is not new. And although it represents broadly the ancient church’s understanding of baptism and ordination, our current Prayer Book expresses a vigorous recovery of this perspective for the church of our own time. And for very good reasons.
Seabury Next is the way we have found to talk about Seabury’s attempt to recover its place in this biblical perspective on the nature of ministry. Inherited models of seminary education based on an overly neat distinction between ordained ministry and what we have all too often called “lay” ministry no longer serve the needs of the church as they once did. In the face of the dizzying social, economic, and technological change, if the church is to meet the challenge of presenting the Good News of Jesus in ways that are compelling and that can be heard and received at all, we need to be in the business of equipping all the members of Christ’s Body for their apostolic ministry, their mission of making disciples of all the nations. Seabury Next stands for our attempt to reinvent this institution as a seminary rooted in baptism. We want Seabury to be available as an agent of transformation for everyone who hears God’s call to grow into the full stature of Christ.
This is an exciting time to be a Christian. The challenges of our age – from the ravages of environmental degradation through global economic and political instability to declining interest in traditional forms of institutional religion – none of these things should cause Christians to despair. We are people of hope, and with the sign of the cross in our baptisms we have been marked with the emblem of Christ’s victory over all the forces that threaten God’s intention to save the world. At Seabury, we are choosing to view the challenges of our time as animating principles for the work God has given us to do. I heard it said once that the church does not have a mission, rather, God’s mission has a church. The salvation of the world does not depend on our attempts to succeed. God’s wills the salvation of all people. It is God’s project, not ours. But by God’s grace and invitation we have the awesome privilege of joining with God in this work. That’s what is means when we say that we have been made members of the royal priesthood that is Christ’s alone.
Episcopalians have grown perhaps overly familiar with some extraordinary promises we make routinely. At every celebration of baptism and baptismal renewal, in the Baptismal Covenant, after we have professed our trust in the vast mystery of God’s goodness and self-communicating Love – all that we mean by the Trinity: God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit – we come to what I often call the “So what?” questions.
Will you continue in the apostles teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers?
Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever, you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
The answer, of course, to each of these questions is, “I will, with God’s help.”
It is not enough simply to say that we believe in God the Holy Trinity. As Christians, we are compelled by the Holy Spirit of God to put our faith into action, to turn it into practices that will transform our lives and the lives of our sisters and brothers in this world. The mission and ministry of Seabury Next is just this: to assist all those who have been baptized into the death and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ to make real in our lives what we profess by our faith. We invite you to join us.
Jeffrey D. Lee, Bishop of Chicago