What it means to be an episcopal church

I am finally provoked into writing something by the details of the goings-on in Michigan with a priest named Gene Geromel (details at Thinking Anglicans.)

I’ll begin with a comment about Gandhi. Gandhi was very clear that the path of non-violent resistance would mean breaking laws. He was also very clear that the non-violent resister must never reject the right of the society to enforce their laws, (by sending the resister to prison) because if the legitimacy of laws as such were called into question then the only consequence would be anarchy, swiftly followed by a rule of the strong, and then all that the non-violent resister desired would be undone. I suspect this is the sort of attitude that underlies Paul’s comments in Romans as well. In other words any resistance has to understand its context, and not be mindless in its opposition. Rather the opposition must be clearly focussed, otherwise it turns into a battle of wills and power, and not a search for the truth, which respects the humanity of those with whom the disagreement lies.

Now in an episcopal church, ie one which accepts an historic handing down of apostolic authority to people called bishops, the primary locus of social authority is the Bishop. The Bishop is the focus of unity in the faith; the Bishop’s role is precisely to uphold apostolic teaching. Where there is dispute over what that teaching consists in, the Bishops have the primary role in resolving those disputes. Furthermore, the Bishop is, within their own diocese, the sole legitimate authority, particularly with regard to the Eucharist. In other words, no priest can celebrate the Eucharist within a diocese without the permission of the Diocesan bishop. (That is, within a particular church or communion. That isn’t a point about a bishop having jurisdiction over any other denomination – although in Anglican terms that’s quite an interesting question).

In the presenting issue afflicting our church, that role of the Bishops has been called into question. One of the major ways in which the body of Bishops has sought to move forward is through ‘delegated episocopal oversight’ – in other words, if a particular priest or congregation cannot in conscience accept the ministry of their bishop then the relevant bishop allows another bishop to act in his stead. I happen to think this a disturbing principle, but be that as it may, it seems to a) retain the proper episcopal lines of authority, and b) express the desire to remain in communion with as many fellow Christians as possible.

Where this possibility is rejected, then the honourable course would seem to be to leave the episcopal-type church. For if the oversight of the Bishop is rejected as such then the whole communion is also rejected at the same time. You can’t reject your Bishop and still belong to an episcopal church – it’s a contradiction. It is exactly what Gandhi was cautioning his followers against – you can reject specific elements, but you have to accept the structural process or else the whole project collapses.

Now from what I understand this is exactly what has happened in Michigan. The relevant bishop would seem to have gone out of his way – FAR out of his way IMHO – to ensure that a particular parish priest and congregation could be catered for, in good conscience. Except that the particular priest didn’t seem to accept the logic of what I have outlined above – and so the dispute continues.

Yet what has now happened is that half a dozen other bishops have recognised this priest as a minister in their dioceses. I can’t imagine a more fundamentally anti-episcopal act.

So the church split has arrived. ECUSA first, the worldwide communion next. Perhaps we’ll all end up joining Rome or Constantinople.

A few thoughts about the problem of evil

Something I wrote a few months ago, as the issue is one that I chew over on a regular basis.

As I see it the problem of evil is much more about how to live in the face of suffering, rather than being an intellectual nut to crack. This is the formulation I prefer:

P1: God is omniscient
P2: God is omnipotent
P3: God does not desire suffering
P4: There is suffering
It is incoherent to assert all of P1 – P4.

There are lots of ways in which religious people have responded to the problem, most of which take the form of denying one or more of P1-P4. I have some sympathies with all of those, in other words, I think that all of P1-P4 are complex truths which need to be broken down, and that much of the immediate force of the problem is lessened when they are broken down. But I don’t think that this answers the real force behind the question, which I think is much more direct and relevant than most philosophical questions.

Some time back I took the funeral of a 33 year old man who had died in tragic and unclear circumstances. There was a suggestion that drugs were involved, but there were no clear answers. In talking to the parents, the father talked about how he had built a swimming pool in the garden for his son to play in, but that now his son was dead, “was it worth it?” In other words, the real problem of evil is one about the meaning of the suffering that we experience. In my ministry so far, I’ve discovered that those who can place some sort of interpretation on what they experience are far better able to cope with tragedy than those without some sort of guiding framework; in particular, those who lack any sort of religious faith can be totally overwhelmed by an experience such as this.

I think when any of us are faced with an overwhelming experience of suffering, there is a profound existential choice that is made – and all of the religious and philosophical arguments only come in to play after that choice has been made. The choice is about whether life is meaningful or not, and it is that choice which generates the various resources needed in order to live. In other words, when the problem of evil becomes one that is of vital importance to resolve – because life has just whacked you over the head with something awful – then you are forced into determining your own attitude.

If you resolve that life is meaningful, then you carry on building your life around whatever it is that you value, and you say that those things which you value are sustainable in the face of evidence to the contrary (the suffering, the logical problems etc). And I would say that as soon as you start to talk about those things which you value in this context, you are inescapably resorting to religious language. ‘To believe in God is to see that life has meaning’ (Wittgenstein) [The most coherent case against this is Camus’ in La Peste, even though I don’t think it holds up in the end.]

If, on the other hand, you resolve that life isn’t meaningful then – I would argue – something essential for a good life is taken away, and you are left with suicide in various different forms, some of which don’t immediately lead to a physical death. And religious language is meaningless.

For me, when I am faced with the logical arguments about the problem of evil (much the strongest arguments against the existence of a loving creator) I am content for there to be an irreducible element of mystery about it, and to say that although I can’t answer the problem now to my own intellectual satisfaction, I believe that there is an answer. This is because I see the alternative as unliveable – I could not raise a family, and enjoy that raising, if I didn’t experience it as ‘worth it’, whatever the future might hold for me or for them.

In other words, my answer to the problem is a choice about how I live, not a belief that I hold in my mind.

In the midst of babel, speak the truth

Good post at Redwood Dragon, here.

I’ll have to get the book he references.

“…the preeminent strategy of Babylon, according to Stringfellow, is babel:

‘Babel means the inversion of language, verbal inflation, libel, rumor, euphemism and coded phrases, rhetorical wantonness, redundancy, hyperbole, such profusion in speech and sound that comprehension is impaired, nonsense, sophistry, jargon, noise, incoherence, a chaos of voices and tongues, falsehood, blasphemy. And, in all of this, babel means violence.

Babylon is the city of babel. The language and liturgies of emperor worship in Imperial Rome were babel. The Nazis practiced babel against the Jews. Babel spawns racism. In [Orwell’s] 1984, babel is the way advanced technocracy dehumanizes persons. By the 1970s in America, successive regimes had been so captivated by babel that babel had become the means of ruling the nation, the principal form of coercion employed by the governing authorities against human beings.’

But, one might ask, what are we to do in the face of such overwhelming power, our voices drowned out by a sea of nonsense and idolatry? In a word: speak the truth, live as human beings.

‘In the midst of babel, speak the truth.'”

Them and us

It’s all their fault. They’re evil. I don’t want anything to do with them. They’re a disgrace, a wicked bunch. That lot over there. Whatever else is true IT’S ALL THEIR FAULT.

Them and us language. Something we’re all prone to, and sometimes the temptation to use it is overwhelming. And the people who qualify as THEM can be tremendously diverse. At the moment it’s young muslim men with rucksacks on their back. At other times it was the Germans or the French, or homosexuals, or women, or Jews, or blacks. In the seventeenth century in this country, it was Papists and Puritans, nowadays the language in religious circles is that of ‘fundamentalists’ or ‘liberals’ – IT’S ALL THEIR FAULT.

Each time the identity of the majority was supported and expressed by identifying a ‘them’ against which the ‘us’ could be established. Because WE are not evil, WE are not a disgrace, WE are righteous, WE are the chosen people, God is on our side and WE shall triumph.

Christ came to put an end to all that. The masters of them and us language in Jesus’ time were the Pharisees, and that was precisely why Jesus fought against them all the time. It was the righteous WE who crucified Jesus, because Jesus consistently identified himself with THEM. He broke bread with THEM and welcomed THEM into His Kingdom. And WE were offended.

If we are to keep faith with our Lord, we must always be on our guard against this language of them and us, and whenever we see it being used, we must remember that the path of Christ is to walk with THEM, even unto the cross.

For God is not on our side. He’s not on their side either. He wants us to stop playing the game of them and us.

Christian-Muslim relations

A longish essay I wrote as part of my ordination training, in April 1999. Still pretty much what I think – and a bit more relevant than when I wrote it.

HAVE CHRISTIAN-MUSLIM RELATIONS IRRETRIEVABLY BROKEN DOWN IN THE CONTEMPORARY WORLD?

As I write this essay, the ‘Christian’ West, in the form of NATO, is engaged in the defence of a Muslim population in Yugoslavia. In this conflict there is very little at stake strategically for the West, and it would appear that the driving motivation for this activity is, in fact, the humanitarian one that is claimed. At the same time, the principal nations of the West, mainly the United States, are engaged in military activity and sanctions designed to destroy the industrial capacity of another Muslim nation, Iraq, which has the consequence of denying the basic amenities of life to the majority of the Iraqi population, causing widespread malnutrition and infant mortality. Clearly, in such a context, the state of Christian-Muslim relations is not a simple or straightforward matter. In truth, there are three ‘parties’ which need to be considered in this context: Christians and Muslims, obviously, but also what can be called ‘the secular West’. In practise, it is this third element, and the way in which the other two interact with it, which will play the most important part in determining whether Christian-Muslim relations do in fact break down.

Western attitudes to the Muslim world remain conditioned by Medieval stereotypes, although this is diminishing . In particular, there is a significant element of fear in the Western perspective. This has clear historical roots. In the unconscious of the West there is a memory of the rapid Islamic advance in the eighth century, which devoured much of the Byzantine empire, and which continued through to the siege of Vienna as late as the sixteenth century. This expansion of an alien civilisation was perceived as a threat to the existence of the Latin West, and this quality of ‘otherness’ has been the hook on which many projections of the Western psyche have been hung . This projection can only be countered by education, and the first step to ensuring that Christian-Muslim relations do not break down lies in a mutual process of exchanging information and dismantling prejudices.

For example, there needs to be a much greater awareness within the West of principal tenets of Islamic faith, primarily the five ‘pillars’, but also the high ethical standards demanded of devout Muslims. The practice of zakát, for example, is one that any Christian would find admirable, and which is not part of the common knowledge of the Christian community. In a similar fashion, the respect in which orthodox Islam holds the ‘peoples of the Book’, and the historical tolerance shown by the Islamic empires to non-Muslim faiths, needs to be emphasised and held up as a model for emulation. This sort of thing is relatively straightforward to ensure, and clear practical steps can be taken by those in authority within the Christian churches and, especially, by those in authority in the educational system. In an equivalent fashion, the misapprehensions on the part of the Islamic community with regard to Christian belief need to be addressed. Again, educational programs are a straightforward answer.

This process of education should begin to dissolve the accumulated silt of prejudice which clogs up the perception of the ‘other’ in our culture. It will be a long process, to be sure, but the [relative] success of campaigns to change perceptions with regard to race and gender issues provides a solid ground for confidence that this aspect of the religious issue can also be addressed successfully. This aspect of Christian-Muslim relations, therefore, can be viewed with some equanimity and confidence. The ‘moderate’ elements on both sides undoubtedly have an opportunity for cultivating productive contacts between the community, which can act as bulwarks in times of communal stress.

However, this optimistic assessment is restricted to quite a narrow focus, and is concerned primarily with those within each community who are open to ‘consciousness raising’. What is really of interest, both academically and as a question of real political concern, is the nature and extent of those elements within each community that would not be open to such an ‘enlightened’ approach. It is with these sections that this essay will be primarily concerned with.

It was mentioned above that an underlying element within the Western image of Islam is fear. This is something which colours the dominant culture’s perception of Islam in every situation. One aspect already mentioned is the historical background of conflict between the two cultures. In the present situation, though, there are significant causes of this fear which are presently not widely accepted within the dominant culture of the West, and which need to be addressed. This focusses on what can be called the religious blindness of Western culture.

This religious blindness has deep roots within Western European history. Most importantly, it stems from the experience of continental Europe in the thirty years war 1618-1648. As Theodore Rabb put it in a recent article in the Times Literary Supplement, ‘One reason that the Thirty Years War was seared into the European consciousness was its unarguable pre-eminence as the most bloody and anarchic set of events that the Continent had ever witnessed.’ The crucial aspect of this for our purposes is the role of religion in the conflict. Although few historians would now credit the description of this conflict as being truly ‘Wars of Religion’ in the sense that religion was the prime motivating factor behind the conflict, the conflict between Catholicism and Protestantism was certainly a publicly prominent aspect of this conflict, and this had profound cultural consequences. Two aspects of this cultural shift are important for our purposes: the first relates to the cultural bias against religious belief and the necessity of religious tolerance, the second relates to the search for certainty in the scientific sphere.

John Locke was the principal author of the first of these cultural developments. Locke’s principal innovation was his argument that, in order to resolve religious disagreements we should resort to the light of Reason , and in doing this, he fleshed out a practical programme for how our beliefs should be guided. The following aspects are the most crucial:

1. we have a moral responsibility for what we believe,
2. we should apportion our beliefs according to the evidence available to us, and
3. in all things we should let reason be our guide.

Put positively, the beliefs that we can hold should be those which can be rationally demonstrated, either by appeal to self-evident first principles, or to empirical evidence. Beliefs must, in either case, be shown to have a rational foundation. Where a rational foundation is lacking then we are subject to unreason – to the excesses of enthusiasm that had led to the cultural crisis of the thirty years war. The impact of this program has been profound, and it lies behind much of the Western world’s fear of Islam. When the West sees, for example, the Iranian revolution and the development of a theocratic state, cultural sensitivities are triggered. For the dominant culture of the West a religious perspective is automatically one which carries a high risk of anti-social behaviour and bloodshed. A good spokesman for this prejudice is Richard Dawkins:

‘Blind faith can justify anything. If a man believes in a different god, or even if he uses a different ritual for worshipping the same god, blind faith can decree that he should die – on the cross, at the stake, skewered on a Crusader’s sword, shot in a Beirut street, or blown up in a bar in Belfast’; ‘[Faith] is capable of driving people to such dangerous folly that [it] seems to me to qualify as a kind of mental illness. It leads people to believe in whatever it is so strongly that in extreme cases they are prepared to kill and to die for it without the need for further justification…Faith is powerful enough to immunize people against all appeals to pity, to forgiveness, to decent human feelings.’

This first aspect, therefore, is what might be called an institutionalised intolerance of religion. It is complicated by a crucial difference between Christianity and Islam. Islam originated in a tribal context, where there was no single central power, in contrast to Christianity which began under the rule of an Empire. This meant that Islam developed a centralised institution (focussing initially on Abu Bakr, the first Caliph) which took up the functions of a central state . There is therefore no correspondence in Islam to the division between Church and State in the West – the ultimate source of religious authority is also the source of political authority. When this form of theocracy is confronted by the Western intolerance of religion the scope for hostility and incomprehension is great.

This aspect links in closely with the second aspect of the West’s cultural heritage that needs to be considered. This is the search for certainty, and its fruits in scientific and technological progress. As Stephen Toulmin has made clear , Descartes’ innovative method of systematic doubt began as a search for rational certainty, which might be agreed to on objective grounds by those who were engaged in religious disputation. As such, it was part of the general cultural reaction against the Thirty Years war. This method of doubt was taken up by Isaac Newton and the Royal Society, and employed in the investigation of nature. The form of knowledge gained by the application of this method was seen to be demonstratively certain, and it therefore became the normative form of knowledge in Western culture. As this was coupled with the Lockean argument for rational belief (and the ethical imperative for proportionality in religious belief) the West began to develop in a secular direction. This is not the place to fully examine the nature of this development, now known as ‘Modernism’, and its flaws, as what is important for the argument here is that the dominant culture in Western society has been shaped by this philosophy.

One ironic consequence of this search for certainty is that the nature of religious belief has been distorted in the consciousness of the West. As well as (the first aspect) religious belief being seen as inherently socially destructive, the forms of religious belief have been reshaped in conflict with the developing scientific perspective. In particular, through debates such as that centring on Darwinian accounts of evolution, the defenders of religion have attempted to defend their faith as being rational (and therefore socially acceptable). However, the logic of this form of defense is inevitably a form of textual fundamentalism, as can be seen in (among many examples) the conservative evangelical groups of the United States, such as the Christian coalition. Crucially, this response has also been taken on by some Islamic groups, and these groups (eg Hamas) are taken by the Western media to be representative of Islamic belief. In doing so, the cultural preconceptions of modern western culture are confirmed: religion is seen as necessarily intolerant, irrational, and liable to cause bloodshed.

In this situation the conflict between the Western world and the Islamic world must of necessity become sharper. From the Western point of view religious belief must be subject to certain rational and ethical constraints, as described originally by John Locke. Where religious belief is not subject to these constraints then it will inevitably take an irrational (ie fundamentalist) character, and cause bloodshed. From the Islamic point of view, however, this attitude on the part of the dominant West cuts across essential aspects of their culture in two crucial ways. Firstly, due to the differing relationship between religion and politics, the political establishment of Islamic cultures is forced to be either modelled on Western norms (the best example is Turkey or Jordan), or propelled into extreme forms of theocracy (early 1980s Iran). Secondly, the religious aspects of life are suppressed. From the Islamic point of view, therefore, Western culture is seen as lawless and godless. Faced with this ideological threat to their culture, which appears to be enforced by massive economic and military power, the natural response of the Islamic world is resistance, in whatever ways possible. In the West, the continued hold on power of people such as Saddam Hussein is seen as purely a product of a totalitarian state. This significantly underestimates the popularity of someone who defies the West, even if on any rational understanding, that defiance is completely Pyrrhic.

In this more broad situation it seems that the prospects for Christian-Muslim relations depend upon the clarity with which the Christian church distinguishes itself from the secularity implicit in Western culture. Again, there are two aspects which need to be addressed here, one positive, and one negative.

The positive aspect relates to the possibility of making common cause between Christians and Muslims in opposition to the atheism inherent in modern Western culture. In the same way that Islamic cultures have perceived the West to be threatening to their continued existence, so too have Christian cultures in the West been forced to compromise and, in effect, descend into a ‘ghetto mentality’. The norms of Christian behaviour have in large part been jettisoned. More significantly, the very possibility of religiously distinctive moral norms has been undermined by the religious blindness discussed above. This in turn has corrosive effects on all the institutions of Western society, leading to (ultimately) a breakdown in civil order. This might seem a melodramatic thesis, but it is one for which there is much evidence, in terms of marital breakdown, juvenile crime and adult recidivism. In this context, there would seem to be scope for some form of common declaration between Christians and Muslims, denouncing such aspects as the consumer mentality and scientific nihilism of contemporary Western society, and articulating those aspects of religious belief that are held in common between both sides, such as monotheism and respect for Abraham as the prototypical patriarch, and the ethical norms of eg marital fidelity, honesty and prohibition of economic exploitation of the poor. Such a declaration might be made at any level of authority within each religious establishment, although clearly it would carry greater weight the higher up each hierarchy it went.

The negative aspect is more complex, and requires much more painful self-analysis on the part of each religious community, particularly the Christian one. There are certain values which have become widespread in Western culture since the Enlightenment, one of the most prominent of which is the dissolution of blind respect for authority. As part of the general shift towards the centrality of ‘reason’ in our culture, it is no longer considered acceptable to deny or affirm certain beliefs simply by appeal to a cultural authority. In Christian terms, this has meant that the Bible is no longer considered (in most circles) as an infallible text, and the leaders of the various churches are not followed without reservation. In Islamic terms this aspect of Western culture is much more problematic, because the way in which the Koran is used is significantly less amenable to an ‘Enlightened’ approach than the Bible. It was the product (probably) of a single mind and is considered to be the product of direct divine dictation. As such, the attempt to employ modern critical methods of study on the Koran is, in itself, an atheistic act, even before any conclusions are arrived at.

This issue came into sharp focus with the publication of the Satanic Verses. Salman Rushdie’s work did constitute a form of insult to the faith of millions of Muslims . As such, (and, furthermore, as an apostate) the traditional sentence of death was pronounced in the fatwa of Khomeini. This cultural response is entirely understandable from within the Islamic perspective, and has centuries of precedent and authority behind it. Furthermore, it is not that far removed from medieval Christian practices, particularly under the Inquisition. What has changed for the Christian community is the impact of the Enlightenment, and the loss of respect for religious institutions. This is not simply to say that the Christian church simply does not have the power to enforce penalties for blasphemy. Even if that power was restored to the Christian chuch, I doubt that it would immediately resort to harsh penalties for blasphemy. That practise itself is seen as being immoral and wrong, and this is a consequence of the Enlightenment.

The religious sensibility of the West, that is, all those Christians who do not belong to fundamentalist groups, has changed as a consequence of the eighteenth century development known as the Enlightenment. The Christian church has not fully woken up to this fact, nor followed through any introspective analysis that might lead to fruitful maturing and developing of the Christian faith as a result. The attitude to particular holy objects – whether of particular scripture, church buildings, icons or anything else – has changed. In particular, no holy object is seen in its own right as being worthy of bloodshed. As we see in Kosovo, the only morally defensible claim for warfare is to alleviate human suffering. In this context the clash between the secular West, defending the ‘right’ to free speech, and the Islamic world, is also one which implicates the Christian churches of the West. It does not seem realistically possible (or, frankly, desirable) for the agreement on common interests, mentioned above, to include some form of words which would place the Christian church on the same side as the Islamic world with regard to Salman Rushdie’s novel. We have here a truly divisive issue, where there is no prospect of compromise.

At this point, the really sharp issue becomes clear. There are ways in which Muslim-Christian relations can be enhanced and fostered. The most basic steps are those relating to mutual education and the building up of trust. This could be enhanced by some declaration of common purpose with regard to the immanent atheism of the dominant Western culture. However, there is a clear point of division between the traditional Muslim sensibility and that of both the secular West and also (I would argue) of the mainstream Christian West. This can be seen most clearly in the case of Rushdie, but the import is much wider than the case of one individual. The culture of the West, formed by both an inheritance from Christianity and the rational developments of the Enlightenment, holds certain values to be beyond dispute. This has great political consequence, as can be seen by examining the political developments in Europe of the last two centuries. For all its faults, the West is a place in which people are not executed for holding certain beliefs or saying certain things. That is something which is valuable and needs to be defended, from a Christian as well as from a secular perspective. The consequence of this, however, is to accept that there is no place for the notion of ‘blasphemy’. In the West now, for example, a novel such as Nikos Kazantzakis’s ‘The Last Temptation of Christ’ can be seen as a profound theological exploration of Christ’s human and divine nature. The question of blasphemy, although it arose in 1954, is no longer given much weight. Instead of there being some authoritative account (even if it be an ‘infallible’ one) of what is correct and what is not, instead there is a perennial flux of debate and argument, from which a more thoroughly grounded consensus may emerge. This applies to both the political as well as the religious sphere, although it has not yet been fully accepted in the ecclesiastical.

In this situation, therefore, there must ultimately be a breach between the Christian and the Muslim. To accept some form of ‘live and let live’ may seem acceptable to some on both sides, but, given the context, that will inevitably mean that the values of the West will continue to gain dominance throughout the world. Some elements in Muslim culture will welcome this, but just as inevitably some will not. In particular, this potential loss is perceived by those in religious authority in Islamic cultures, and it would be naïve to expect that they will accept this loss without a struggle. Consequently, although it may not come to pass, I cannot avoid a profound pessimism about the future of Christian-Muslim relations. They may not have irretrievably broken down as yet, but there will come a time when some Islamic cultures will face a choice between accepting the values of the Enlightenment and fighting a last and literal battle against the forces of the West, probably using the materiél for war supplied by the people they despise. I do not believe that this is a conflict which the West would lose, but the cost of such a conflict is likely to be exceedingly grave.

Tom Cruise and mental suffering

I see that Tom Cruise has generated more publicity for his new film through attacking a TV interviewer on the subject of drugs for mental illness. Much as I might disagree with scientology, I agree with Tom that there are serious problems with the medicalisation of so-called ‘mental illness’. This is an issue with which I have had to deal extensively, both in my own family life and through my ministry, and the more experience I gain, the more I become convinced that there is something seriously wrong in how our society as a whole treats ‘mental illness’. It reminded me of something I wrote a few years ago, discussed in a 6th form General Studies class (students aged 16/17). I thought it would be worth sharing.

~~~

I would like to say a few things today relating to religion and mental illness. As you might imagine, I am speaking from a specifically Christian perspective, and I want to criticise something called the ‘medical model’ of understanding mental illness, and argue that a religious understanding is both more accurate, and more therapeutic. However, I should say at the outset that my perspective is NOT mainstream, and I would recommend that in any examinations that you may have to sit, that you provide mainstream answers. This sort of perspective might gain an extra mark or two if you mention it, but I wouldn’t recommend spending a great deal of time developing this line of argument. However, if in your own life – and nearly one in five women are diagnosed as mentally ill at some point in their life, in this country – you or someone you care about is diagnosed as suffering from ‘mental illness’ I think that you may find it helpful to have a look at these notes…

Medical illness is quite well understood. A person is ill when their body is malfunctioning in some identifiable way – either there is some visible, external problem, eg a broken leg, or there is an invisible, internal problem, eg a virus or cancer, which can nevertheless be discerned through tests or X-rays or similar. In each instance, there is something observable which is independent of the social context of the individual being treated. For example, if a person has cancer, then that cancer will develop in certain particular, well understood ways, and the cancer will develop in the same way whether the person is living in London, West Africa or India.

In contemporary Western society, medicine has advanced significantly through the application of the scientific method. Put briefly, the scientific method depends upon the distancing of personal opinions from the subject being studied – this is why you will sometimes hear the claim that science is ‘objective’ and ‘value free’ – and an investigation of the mechanical processes which underlie our physical existence. So, in medicine, we have a very good understanding of the cardio-vascular system (our heart and lungs) and how they operate, and they operate on very clear physical principles.

So, with bodily illness, medicine has very effective means of studying the problems, and developing solutions. Put differently, we might say that it is appropriate to study the break down of normal bodily functioning in this way. The way in which bodily malfunctioning is understood is called the ‘medical model’.

Let us now consider what it means to be mentally ill. There is something called DSM-III which lists what is counted as a mental illness (this is used specifically for schizophrenia):

– Delusions (considered bizarre, grandiose, absurd etc)
– “Deterioration from a previous level of functioning…”
– social isolation or withdrawal, impairment in role functioning, impairment in personal hygiene or grooming…
– “blunted, flat or inappropriate affect” (affect = emotional response)

(Note at this point, that these are markedly NOT independent of the social context.)

Where a person is displaying these characteristics then they are now classed as being ‘mentally ill’ and placed into psychiatric care. Mental illness is understood by the psychiatric profession to be a similar sort of disorder to bodily illness, except that – and this is the punchline – the causes of the disorder are not understood. Where they are (eg where they can be traced to a specific bodily disorder, such as a virus (encephalitis), or Parkinson’s disease) then they are no longer considered a ‘mental illness’ in the same way, and the method of treatment changes.

Where possible, the psychiatric staff will treat the patient through the use of psycho-active drugs, which either serve to change or stabilise the mood of the person, or to dampen the intellectual energy of the person. In this way the ‘symptoms’ of the ‘illness’ can be treated, and the psychiatric profession can continue to research further methods of treatment with the hope that they will eventually discern the underlying cause of the ‘illness’ and then be able to cure it.

It is my view that this approach is fundamentally flawed, from both a philosophical and religious perspective, and that there is no such thing as ‘mental illness’.

I mentioned earlier that the classifications used to assess whether a person is or is not mentally ill are closely tied in with the social context, specifically, with what a particular society considers to be acceptable behaviour. To take the example of ‘hearing voices in the head’ – in some societies this is seen as evidence of divine favour, and the person concerned is given a respected role as an oracle of God. In other societies it is seen as evidence of possession by demons, and the person concerned is executed. In either case – and in our own society – the classification of the person is determined by what the society accepts as ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal’. This is a decision made by the society, and as such it is subject to questions of morality and ethics – and therefore religion.

When Jesus talks about the soul, the word used (in the Greek) is ψυχή – psyche, from which we get our word psychology, which means the understanding of the soul. In western society, the way in which the symptoms currently described as mental illness were treated were through a religious understanding – the person concerned was not right with God. This way of understanding psychology was dominant for two thousand years and forms part of the core of how priests are trained. As you might imagine, it reached quite a sophisticated level, before being supplanted by modern scientific methods. This was not a step forward.

I mentioned earlier that bodily illness functions independently of social context, and that science studies it through distancing the personal opinions of the person doing the studying. Neither of these factors is appropriate for the symptoms listed on the DSM list.

It may be easiest to put across the difference by considering a particular example. Imagine a woman – let us call her Charlotte – who has an affair with a married man. The man leaves his first wife and marries Charlotte. Six months after their marriage, the man dies suddenly. Charlotte becomes depressed. She no longer functions properly within her various social roles, and is not able to maintain her job. She stops looking after herself and becomes emotionally numb. And so on. Charlotte goes to her doctor, and the doctor prescribes a course of anti-depressants, which lift her mood and she returns to her job.

From the perspective of medial science, all that can be done to help Charlotte has been done, and in fact she has been returned to her work so clearly the treatment has been successful. From a religious point of view, this is a disaster.

To begin with, a priest would consider it natural for a person to go through a period of mourning after the death of a loved one, and that the change in behaviour manifested would not need any further explanation. One of the problems faced in our society is that we are not allowed to be unhappy – happiness has become an idol, and therefore suffering has to be suppressed. This is self-defeating.

Secondly, the language which a priest would use about Charlotte would include words such as ‘shock’, ‘grief’, and ‘guilt’. Charlotte has received a shock, and is not able to come to terms with what has happened. A priest would interpret this by looking at the story of her life up to this point, and in particular at the affair. This is a sin – a breach in human relationships and a breach in the relationship with God. And, bearing in mind the quotation from Deuteronomy (“Behold, I set before you this day a blessing and a curse: the blessing, if you obey the commandments of the Lord your God, which I command you this day, and the curse, if you do not obey the commandments of the Lord your God, but turn aside….” (the book of Deuteronomy, 11.26-28)), if there is sin, then the life will be blighted – hence the depression. The way forward for the priest would be to talk through the story and establish whether Charlotte had any unacknowledged guilt etc which could then be confessed and absolved. The desired outcome would be for Charlotte to flourish once more – without the help of drugs.

In essence, the language used to describe the phenomena which people display, listed in the DSM criteria, is radically different between psychiatry and religion. They are in effect two different languages, attempting to describe the same phenomena. My perspective is that the religious language is both more accurate and more humane, and that it is more likely to lead to healing and the cure of souls.

Further reading: The Myth of Mental Illness, Thomas Szasz; The Danger of Words, M C O’Drury

A parable (Matthew 10 40-42)

A long time ago, in a land far away from here, a band of travellers were crossing the wilderness.The group had been travelling for many days. They were tired, hot and thirsty. One day, the band discovered a natural spring, gushing forth fresh, clean, clear water. They slaked their thirst, filling their water bottles, refreshing their camels. And they wished to give thanks to God for the spring, which had eased their pain and strengthened them for their journey. So they built a cairn, a pile of rocks, by the side of the spring, and they said prayers of thanksgiving. The travellers reached their destination, and they told others of the spring that they had found in the wilderness.

Time passed. Other travellers came through the wilderness and came to the spring, to quench their thirst and gain refreshment. They too wished to give thanks and praise to God, so they added more stones to the cairn, and the cairn became a wall, sheltering the spring from the harsh, dry winds of the wilderness.

Time passed. Other travellers came through the wilderness and came to the spring, to quench their thirst and gain refreshment. They too wished to give thanks and praise to God, so they added more stones to the wall, and the wall became a shelter, a small dwelling, sheltering the spring from the harsh, dry winds of the wilderness.

Time passed. Other travellers came through the wilderness and came to the spring, to quench their thirst and gain refreshment. They too wished to give thanks and praise to God, so they added more stones to the shelter, and the shelter became a great building surrounding the spring, keeping back the sand and dust blown in on the harsh, dry winds of the wilderness.

Time passed. Other travellers came through the wilderness and came to the building, for they had heard of this building in the wilderness. They were suitably impressed by the stature of the dwelling, and they too wished to give thanks and praise to God, so they added more stones to the building, and after many years the building became a magnificent stone structure, visible from many miles away. Now travellers came into the wilderness to see this magnificence, and each traveller added a few more stones. And people began to live in the dwelling, and they welcomed travellers and gave them hospitality.

Time passed. A traveller came by after a long journey in the wilderness. This traveller was thirsty, and the thought came to the traveller – is there water somewhere in this place. And the people who lived there said ‘we don’t know’ – but here, let us refresh you with what we have to offer. But that was not enough for the traveller. And so the traveller searched, and he couldn’t find the water. And yet, there was something he could smell, something that drove him to keep searching, and so he continued to search, and to look deeper into the building. And so he went in to the centre and began to dig, and he began to remove stones. And yes, there, underneath the stones, behind all the walls, hidden by the building, unknown to the residents: here was the water of life. So, the traveller drank, and was satisfied.

~~~~

There is such a tremendous thirst for God in the society in which we live. May we be channels of living water to those who are thirsty, not a magnificent pile of stones barring their way.

I didn’t create this story, but I can no longer track where I first read it. I have embellished the telling a little.

The fear of God

Our culture is truly impoverished and has lost its way because it has lost the fear of God. Yet it seems to me that many of the Christians who say such things have a mistaken understanding of what that fear is – and, therefore, of how to cultivate that Godly fear which is the beginning of wisdom and understanding.

We can seek God because we are afraid of other people, and we seek their approval, and if their language is of God then we will develop the language of God in order to conform. That is a conforming to the world, and not to the living God.

We can seek God because we are in terror before God, we are afraid of condemnation and being consigned to hell. We wish to save ourselves, to preserve our lives, and so we obey what we perceive to be the commands of God. That is the way of the Pharisee. One of the most consistent messages which Jesus teaches is ‘Do not be afraid’ (some 20 times He says this). The Pharisees in particular were consumed with this individual fear – they were afraid that if they didn’t keep to the Law then God would once more allow Jerusalem to be destroyed (as described in Lamentations) – and that is what Jesus is overcoming. The God of Jesus Christ desires mercy not sacrifice.

We can also seek God because we are in awe of Him. Consider the difference between being poised on the edge of a cliff and thinking at one and the same time ‘wow, what a view’ and ‘I might fall and die’ and ‘I am so small’; or, on the other hand, being pursued by a large wild animal and knowing you are about to be caught and killed and eaten. The former – whilst still genuinely fear – can also be exhilarating, and has the potential for relationship and love. The latter is simply hopeless terror, and underlies Pharisaism. It is precisely the absence of faith, hope and love – and that is what separates it from the Way.

Fear in the sense of ‘terror’ is not the way we are called to relate to God, particularly when that fear is considered on an individualistic basis. That message is not good news. It is like the secret police arriving in the homes of a totalitarian state and saying, ‘if you accept our authority then we will not torture you’. It is a theology which casts Lavrenty Beria in the role of St Paul.

Perfect love casts out fear. And we are called to love, to love one another as He loved us. Beloved, let us love one another… for God is love. And in Him there is no darkness at all.

A missing question

I’ve been following the proceedings of the Anglican Consultative Council, currently meeting in Nottingham (many thanks to titusonenine and thinking anglicans). I’ve read the ECUSA justification of their position, which seemed clear, and the various responses to it. Yet it still seems to me that the most fundamental question keeps being overlooked.

In this question as to whether consecration of a non-celibate homosexual is permissible or not, there seems to be a prior question about whether it is possible for such an amendment to the tradition to be driven by the Holy Spirit. It seems perfectly possible to be opposed to ECUSA on two separate, and profoundly different, grounds: 1. That such a change is possible and in line with how the Holy Spirit might lead us, but that the case in this instance has not been made, and in fact such a change is not consonant with the love of Christ; or, 2. such a change is not possible, and therefore any exploration or consideration of this issue is pointless.

In other words, the underlying question, which keeps getting submerged, is hermeneutical, about the role of Scripture within the household of the faithful. One position sees Scripture as inherently malleable, and not separable from a community of interpretation. The other sees Scripture as fixed, and the role for the community is simply to be obedient.

It seems to me that there is scope for the friendship which ++Rowan called for between ECUSA and those who believe 1., but not between ECUSA and those who believe 2.

For what it’s worth, option 2 seems to me to be profoundly unAnglican, even unChristian, in so far as I understand the faith. “I have many things to say to you which you cannot yet bear… the Spirit will lead you into all truth.”

which theologian are you?

got this from Maggi Dawn’s blog…

You scored as Augustine. You have a big view of God and also take human sin and depravity very seriously. Predestination is important for you.

Augustine

93%

Karl Barth

73%

John Calvin

67%

Jürgen Moltmann

60%

Friedrich Schleiermacher

53%

Anselm

33%

Paul Tillich

33%

Martin Luther

33%

Jonathan Edwards

20%

Charles Finney

13%

Which theologian are you?
created with QuizFarm.com

Have to say I find it very satisfying to align with Augustine, and that Charles Finney is at the bottom. Must be a good test :o)