Catholicity, Inclusivity, and the 'Protest-ant' Charism

By Ken Cuthbertson

Albuquerque, NM

In recent weeks I’ve been teaching a class in historical theology for a MTS (Masters in Theological Studies) class offered in an ecumenical program here in Albuquerque.  The last couple of classes have brought me (the supposed “Prof”) some new clarity both about the issue of LGBT ordination and a particular “charism” of our Protestant Heritage.  And so, in anticipation of fast-approaching Reformation Day (October 31), and the oncoming renewal of the debate over changing the standards for LGBT ordination in the Presbyterian Church USA, I offer some of my new musings.Two clear insights have come to me via my wonderful students, and the materials we’ve been pondering together:1. “Here I stand.  I can do no other.  God help me.  Amen.”2.  “Protest-ants” are actually “Catholics” – WRIT  LARGE!The first insight comes from Luther’s famous declaration at the Diet at Worms in 1521.  Challenged to recant his supposedly “heretical” views, he says that to go contrary to his conscience and his understanding of the Gospel is neither safe nor right.  His conscience, says he, is “captive to the Word of God.”Over the course of the 30+ years that Presbyterians (along with Episcopalians, Lutherans, Methodists, and others) have been discussing and debating the issues relating to full inclusion of Lesbians, Gays, Bi-sexuals, and Transgender folk in the Church it has become ever clearer that for many on both sides the debate is rooted in deeply held, and significantly differing understandings of the Gospel and the Word of God.  The dilemma is that for those on both sides who hold these deep convictions it is really neither “safe nor right” for them to abandon them.That said, the challenge of our time is how to allow two (or more) deeply differing understandings to be held in one body.  That’s tricky.  In Luther’s day it was assumed that everybody had to be on the same page on everything from “justification” to “transubstantiation” lest the church fall to pieces… which it did, largely because of that assumption.In the 20th century the counter-dynamic of ecumenism too often fell into an unhealthy denial of differences in favor of a rather too naïve anticipation that Christians of goodwill could come to some core set of common affirmations on which we could all agree… and from there reconciliation and union would (through the working of the Holy Spirit) inevitably emerge.  In my opinion the flaw in the latter assumption was that our differences often go to the very essence of how we hear and live the Gospel itself… and those differences are not trivial, but can even be viewed as vital gifts of the Spirit for the pluralistic and diverse world in which we find ourselves.  Similarly, the diversity found within the conservative/progressive theological spectrum within our various traditions brings a depth and richness that needs to be honored, if only we can find a way to live together respectfully in Christian love.As someone who was raised and came of age among and within a conservative Evangelical context, bordering on fundamentalism, I truly “get” what my brothers and sisters in that sector of the Church are concerned about in regards to LGBT ordination and marriage.  Their concerns touch the essence of how they understand God, creation, humankind, revelation and redemption, Jesus, and discipleship.  On the other hand, as someone who has been required by God to look at these matters anew… required by my own realization that I am a gay man, and still a follower of Jesus… I know that my concerns also touch the very essence of how I, and others in the Liberal / Progressive sector of the Church understand God, creation, humankind, revelation and redemption, Jesus, and discipleship.At this point in the Presbyterian journey the church remains almost evenly divided in its opinions. (Granting that there are many in the middle who aren’t entirely sure how they relate to those on either side.)  The current “law” of our institution (i.e. the Book of Order) favors the conservatives; but, that “law” is quietly but widely disregarded by many individuals, congregations, and even presbyteries in the PCUSA.  The most remarkable exhibition of our constitutional conundrum is found in the recent decision of the Synod of the Pacific’s Permanent Judicial Commission in which they found Rev. Janie Spahr “guilty” of performing several same-sex marriages, and at the same time commended her and bemoaned the current denominational restrictions.As an enthusiastic advocate of the passage of the proposed amendment 10-A – which would replace the perpetually troublesome G-6.0106b in the PCUSA Form of Government with new wording – I fully admit and celebrate the fact that it would open up the denomination to a new situation in which neither sector of the church would be able to try to enforce its understanding of the issues that so divide us.  The new wording for G-6.0106b would only remove the exclusionary language of the current version, language that has caused continual dissent and dissatisfaction in much of the denomination ever since it was introduced in 1996.  Nothing new is imposed or required by the new wording.  Individuals, congregations, and presbyteries opposed to LGBT ordination would in no way be forced to change their views.  And, in fact, the emphasis on the right of the ordaining bodies to discern such matters for themselves would seem to offer a large degree of protection to conservatives as well as progressives.And this brings me to my second insight....  My Catholic colleague with whom I’ve been teaching the current class has repeatedly emphasized that the very gradual process of adaptation and change in the Roman Catholic Church is rooted and grounded in the concept of catholicity itself.  The process of change in the Roman Catholic Church proceeds in the context of needing to be both consistent with the ongoing Tradition of 2,000 years and also something which the entire body (or at least the overwhelming majority) is ready, willing, and able to embrace.  Many Protestants, and especially centrist Presbyterians, espouse very similar sounding views.The new thing that has dawned upon me is that herein lies the true essential difference between a “Protest-ant” and a Catholic.  And that the challenges to Tradition and Institution posed by those who “protest” are a true gift and charism, ever urging the Church onward to a broader deeper catholicity.Protestants, in the words of the old English Puritans, are those who seek “reformation without tarrying for any.”   Despite the 16th century illusion that they were just trying to restore the purity of the early church, in retrospect we know that the Reformers were really doing something new and unprecedented.  (Luther, after all, introduced the notion of the "priesthood" of all believers, which later generations realized must surely include... women.  And thus the base for women's ordination was laid.)  Coming to new understandings of the Gospel, and new visions of how the Church can more fully live into it, those who “protest” the inadequacies of the old ways are always impatient to move ahead.  And thus they (we) provide the impetus for change, adaptation, and reform.  (Even, my colleague notes, as those who resist change perform the valuable counter-ministry of forcing the body to think things through and attend to the implications of what is being proposed.)  This then, in my estimation, is the under-realized “vocation” contained in the old Reformation-era slogan of being “reformed, and ever-reforming.”  The “Protest-ant” charism is essential to the mix of a living faith, and it is frustratingly disruptive of the “peace, unity, and purity” of status quo catholicity.With all due respect to my Roman Catholic friends, Jesus (as presented in the gospels) was never a “catholic” in the sense described here.  He was a total “protest-ant” in the setting forth of his radically new vision of God’s Realm.  The “catholic” voice of Jesus’ time was that of the Jewish leadership, and especially the High Priesthood.  Theirs was the voice of the Institution, of the Tradition, and of all those adhering to both over against the challenge presented by the maverick Rabbi from Nazareth.  There is a profoundly uncomfortable truth and logic in the fatal words of the High Priest Caiaphas in John 11:50:  “You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.”  I personally don’t regard Caiaphas as anything but a sincerely prudent “church”-man, who took seriously the position he held and the Tradition he served.  Nor do I doubt the sincerity and prudence of Pope Leo X who (rather accurately) described Martin Luther as a “wild boar” loosed in the “Lord’s vineyard.”  Nor do I doubt the sincerity and prudence of those who have long resisted the “protest-ant” voices of those calling for a new understanding of the Gospel in relation to LGBT followers of Jesus.The challenge to the establishment is always how to listen to the “protest-ant” voices that arise, and to discern which voices may be speaking for God.  The New Testament tells of the witness of a very few cautious voices raised within the religious establishment in Jesus’ behalf, the voice of Nicodemus for instance (see Jn. 7:50ff).Two  examples stand out for me.   Acts 5 contains a story of the arrest of Peter and the Apostles after their constant teaching and ministry right in the Temple itself became unbearable to the religious leadership.  After being ordered by the High Priest himself stop these activities, Peter responds “We must obey God rather than any human authority.”  (Acts 5: 29)  The members of the council were outraged, with some wishing to kill the apostles.  But at that point Rabbi Gamaliel (elsewhere identified as the teacher of St. Paul) speaks up and says, “...If this plan or this undertaking is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God you will not be able to overthrow them – in that case you may even be found to be fighting against God.” (Acts 5:38-39)A few chapters on, in Acts 15, there is the story of how the church at Jerusalem, which by then had established its own identity and equilibrium as a small Jewish sect that believed in Jesus as the Messiah but also kept the laws and customs of Judaism, was challenged by the influx of gentile believers who were not circumcised and did not observe Jewish law and custom.  A council was called at which the pro-Gentile “protest-ants” Barnabas and Paul, supported by Peter, gave their witness.  When they had finished James, the revered leader of the Jerusalem Church, acknowledged the working of God and speaking for the assembly extended the bounds of Christian catholicity to include these new believers, asking only that some basic accommodations to the sensibilities of the Jews be observed.In both of these stories the “protest-ant” voice is that which presents a challenge to the institutional status quo (and to the limits of its own cautious “catholicity”).  The challenge asks the institution to listen to a new voice, to drop old understandings and strictures, to open to a broader inclusivity, and to wait and see if God is at work in the new movement.  Such, over the course of time, seem to be the characteristic elements of the “Protestant” charism, and the marks by which it is best discerned by those in the then extant “Catholic” establishment.One of the lessons that the current Church has the opportunity to learn, that has so long eluded us, is that we need to find room for the Protest-ant charism to be always working within the context of our Catholic heritage and communal vocation.  If that’s not happening, we’re dying, or dead.  As I read that most obscure of all Jesus’ teachings (see Mark 3:23-30, etc.), the failure to discern and acknowledge the Spirit’s work in such a charism is the ultimate failure possible in the community of faith.  But when the Spirit and the Gospel are given the opportunity, a newer, broader, and deeper catholicity can and will emerge, founded not in the imposition of a stifling uniformity but in a mutuality and respect grounded in the Living Presence of God revealed in Jesus.Will some leave the PCUSA if the proposed amendment 10-A passes?  Without doubt.  But to choose to withdraw is a far different thing than to be excluded.  And while the departures and disruptions experienced by our Episcopal and Lutheran counterparts are significant, there are also attestations of new energies being unleashed and new growth  experienced.Amendment 10-A provides us with an opportunity to take a step.  I believe that it opens the way to allow the Protest-ant charism to be at work without forcing the institution into artificially inclusive standards for which there is not yet a sustainable consensus.   10-A does not take the issue off the table, but steps back and brings it home to the base communities where the actual work of discernment is ongoing anyway.For over thirty years gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender Presbyterians, along with our families and friends, have presented our protests and challenges to the ecclesial body.  We have not failed.  We have persisted and seen great progress in the extent and depth of support for our understanding of what God is doing among us in this time.  Our understanding of the gospel, as it applies to us, is very much like the understanding of Paul, Barnabas, and Peter, that so challenged the early church at Jerusalem.  We know that we don’t follow laws and observances that have been believed to be core elements of the heretofore “Catholic” understanding of Christianity.  Yet we believe, and many see and acknowledge, that God is working among us.  How, then, will the Church (or at least our PCUSA branch of it) live into this emergent “Protest-ant” vision of the greater “Catholicity” of God’s realm?