Spiritual Resources

Stump the Curate

To post your spiritual, theological, or church-related questions, contact: The Rev. John A. Thorpe, Priest and Curate 107 State St. Albany, NY 12207 curate@stpeterschurchalbany.org

Question 1

Dear Curate: First, let me thank you for your most thoughtful and insightful report on General Convention. Then, let me ask you a technical question: can't we receive Communion in any Christian church anyway? Have I been doing it wrong all these years? Thanks.

Dear Parishioner: Communion's an interesting issue: most Episcopalians take communion in any Christian church where the host church allows them to do so. Of course, some churches, such as Roman Catholics, don't allow just any Christian to receive -- but most churches do as we do and offer Communion to any baptized Christian in attendance. But there's some sneaky wording in that invitation. It's one thing be a host and to offer Communion to anyone - it says we believe OUR priests are validly ordained and offer valid sacraments that we're happy to share with anyone who comes and is baptized; it's quite another thing to be a guest, to encourage our parishioners to take communion in other churches - that would be saying that we believe THEIR ministers are validly ordained and offer valid sacraments. By virtue of being an 'Episcopal' church (in Greek 'episcopos' = 'bishop'), we're kind of trapped into asserting that a church MUST have bishops who have been ordained in the historic succession in order to have valid ordinations, hence also to have valid sacraments. In the case of most other mainline protestant groups, they haven't held on to the historic succession, so we can't guarantee to our parishioners that their ministers have been validly ordained, so we can't guarantee that it's really a valid Communion that they're offering; so we don't (officially) encourage our people to take Communion elsewhere. This was the position of the Lambeth Conference of bishops (the gathering in Lambeth, England, of all the worldwide Anglican bishops) as of 1920 and has never been rescinded. Officially, the Episcopal Church, USA leaves it up to the local bishop's discretion - if our bishop says it's ok to take Communion elsewhere, then it's ok. I honestly don't know where Bps. Herzog, Bena, and Love stand on that. If this policy sounds inconsistent or even arrogant to you, you're not alone. There are many people who feel that way. Shouldn't we all be taking communion from each other, if we're all Christian and all one Body? The Episcopal Church has often been looked on as arrogant in the wider religious context. Even the agreement which we signed with the Lutherans (ELCA - the agreement was named 'Called to Common Mission') only authorizes Eucharistic sharing insofar as the Lutherans are willing to accept our form of the episcopate. General Convention's new agreement with the United Methodist Church is really a kind of shell game - we authorize our people to receive communion with Methodists ONLY if there are two ministers present - one of ours and one of theirs - that way the presence of our priest assures us that it's a valid communion whether or not the other fellow or gal is validly ordained. It's an end-run around the problem and doesn't actually remove the obstacle. But it's still (hopefully) an important step along the way. There's also a question of Eucharistic theology: what is it, precisely, that we believe, and they believe, is being offered? We teach Real Presence, which means that Jesus is present in the consecrated bread and wine themselves (unlike the Roman Catholics with transubstantiation, we don't try to explain HOW that happens). Other Protestant groups believe it's simply a memorial or symbol and that Jesus is present in the overall ceremony, but not in any unique way in the elements themselves. So if one of our parishioners goes to, say, the First Random Protestant Church, and they pass the crackers and grape juice, what exactly is it that's being passed? Is it Christ's body and blood? Is it crackers and grape juice as a symbol? Is there any intent in the Communion service to offer people the body and blood of Christ, or is the intent to have a moment of memory and thankfulness alone, without the Real Presence in the elements? Historically, in order to have a valid sacrament, you need a valid ordination, the proper intent, a minimum standard of liturgy (usually consisting of the Words of Institution -- "On the night before He died, our Lord Jesus Christ took bread. . ." etc.), and the proper matter - in the case of Baptism, water; in the case of Eucharist, some kind of bread and some grape-based beverage. These are all minimum standards with some room to adapt according to local need (i.e. what if you don't have any bread, as they don't in some Pacific island cultures, but there is a kind of fruit that works just as well? ) So the most practical question, I suppose, is what you should be doing yourself. Fr. Hartt and I can't tell you that you have the freedom to take Communion anywhere because that's not the church's official teaching; but we can say you have the right as a Christian to make up your own mind and follow your own conscience in the matter. And there are no secret Eucharist police who will come and haul you away if you don't toe the line. My own practice before I knew the church's teaching was to take Communion anywhere; but as I studied theology in college I came across the problems mentioned above, and decided it would be best if I didn't receive in non-Episcopal settings (this was before I was ordained). This decision, I must say, caused some pain in my family and among my in-laws, very few of whom are Episcopalian. It's a very painful thing to refuse Communion anywhere (especially among family), and if that's your choice you should be ready to explain it kindly and patiently to people who watch you and who may be offended. I've always felt that the pain I experienced at having to refuse Communion was the same pain that God feels at the divisions in the Church, and that it's best for us not to ignore God's pain but to make it visible, in hopes that as it becomes our pain it will drive us to heal our divisions. If we forget God's pain at our divisions, we won't feel the need to do anything about it. There have been a few exceptions for me: in my hometown there was a community Pentecost service and the bishop told us it was ok to receive there. Also I was once invited to preach a sermon at a Reformed Episcopal congregation who had broken away from the Episcopal Church - I knew the history of this particular congregation and that it had been treated very badly by its Episcopal bishop; so I, as an ordained representative of the Episcopal Church, apologized on my Church's behalf and tried to start a process of reconciliation, and I received communion in that context because it seemed like the best thing to do. This has probably been way too much information for what you asked, but I hope it's helpful and hasn't raised more questions than it has answered. I'm not suggesting one way or the other, but now you know the church's official teaching and why, and the other side of it and why; so hopefully you'll be able to make up your own mind. If you'd like any more information, or would like to read some of the primary sources that sketch out either position, I'd be happy to do some searching and get you some useful sources. God's Peace, Fr. John

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Question 2

Dear Curate: Genesis 4:17 – Who was Cain's wife? Who were her parents?

Dear Parishioner: Well, that’s a great question. Finding a satisfying answer depends on how you like to approach the Bible. For those whose priority is biblical inerrancy – the idea that the Bible is completely factual in every detail – there are several answers: first, that Genesis never specifically states that Cain and Abel were Adam and Eve’s first children, or the duration of time the first couple resided in the Garden of Eden, or that they were the first to leave the Garden and live elsewhere; so they could have been having kids hand-over-fist before then, and some of those have gone out to populate the world, resulting in a population large enough to admit a marriage between Cain and a young, not-so-distant relative. The idea that Cain could go on to build a city after his marriage carries with it the idea that there was population enough to fill a city, so biblical literalists could point to that as evidence that something in the way of ‘being fruitful and multiplying’ was going on in the silences of the text. Others postulate a hypothetical human population outside of the Garden of Eden. The difficulty with that, of course, is keeping a coherent doctrine of original sin, passed down by generation from Adam. Somehow all those other folks outside the Garden would have had to be made subject to sin when Eve ate the apple. It’s all speculation, of course – an argument from the silences of the text, and today’s anthropologists don’t generally find these explanations particularly convincing.

If, on the other hand, your priority is reconciling the Bible’s theology with 21st century anthropology, a more satisfying answer would be that the stories of Adam, Eve, Cain, and Able are all mythological or literary, and not meant to be historical at all, but are stories handed down over generations (and revised by some) to teach certain theological points about God and humankind. Thus, the logistic problem of Cain’s wife really doesn't’t matter. We can treat it like an inspired version of any other genesis myth from another culture. What’s important is what Cain symbolizes and what his actions mean theologically, not whether they were historical.

There are good Christians on both sides of this, and we need not sacrifice our belief in the Bible as God’s word for either of these answers. For some interesting discussions on how today’s anthropologists are wrestling with the concept of the Garden of Eden and the possibility of other human life outside of the Garden, visit your local library and search the recent issues of Biblical Archaeology Review.

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Question 3

Dear Curate: This "Stump the Curate" inquiry is not a theological question but it is one that comes up again and again, and so I'm imposing on your offer to take on any and all questions. What is the protocol on paying clergy for special services? Over the years I have heard clergy (and clergy wives) express a variety of views, depending in part I'm sure on the audience and the circumstances, and I still don't know the answer. I have also heard more than one clergy wife complain about her husband not being paid for helping a parishioner through a difficult time (job loss, troubled youth, sick visits, death in the family, etc.), and I have to admit the first time I heard this I was shocked. But as I'm sure you know we all want to do the right thing. Surely there are some guidelines or general rules and I would very much appreciate any insight you could provide.

Dear Parishioner: First, I’ve got to give thanks for clergy spouses. They see what might be called the gritty underside of the pastoral ministry far too often, and they have to put up with things that no other reasonable person would without having much control, and yet they still smile at everyone on Sunday morning. It’s a unique ministry and they are much to be commended.

There are several aspects to your question. The first is a matter of attitude: that we don’t expect dirty money to be involved in the beautiful and caring ministry that we need at the best and worst times in life. Such ministry, we feel, ought to flow from genuine caring and not be motivated by hope for gain. I must agree, it’s a nice thought to envision the dedicated young minister going out of his or her way to minister to someone in need with no thought for financial gain – but it’s not so nice to think of the minister’s family at home struggling through another month of bills because he/she’s expected to do most of his or her work for the sake of pure charity, and being content with potluck dinners once a week to make up for that. I’m thankful not to be in this position at St. Peter’s, but I know too many clergy who live some variety of this scenario. Most often, when a clergyperson expects to be paid for services rendered, it’s less for padding his or her bank account, and more for paying his or her monthly bills. Many clergy who are paid well enough not to fit into the above scenario donate the gifts they receive from weddings and funerals to their discretionary funds, where the funds go directly to helping the poor. Although you do occasionally find a greedy one, most clergy aren’t in the job to get rich and really do go above and beyond the call of duty to minister to those who need it. They do this because: 1. They love God; 2. They love God’s people; and 3. It’s the nature of the vocation and their duty. None of these motives have to do with money, and that’s healthy.

The second aspect to your question is one of simple economics. Everyone has to earn a living. We tip waiters at restaurants, porters at hotels, and pizza delivery people; salespeople earn commissions, as do brokers. Everyone knows these jobs receive tips, and although we may grumble at it, we fulfill that expectation. There is just as strong an expectation among clergy and those who work with them for funerals and weddings that the clergy will receive payment for their services, which include not only the visible part on the day of the ceremony, but also hours of liturgical planning and pastoral counseling. Preparations for a funeral can sometimes take up most of an entire week’s office time for our clergy and office staff. Most funeral home directors and wedding planners are aware of this expectation, and most people who have had to write the checks for a funeral or wedding know it as well. This underlying expectation is not something people talk about much, but it is there, just as it is for the other jobs I mentioned above. If, for a good time, you read the US tax laws concerning clergy, it’s there, too: we have to report all the income earned from special services and pay taxes on it as self-employment income. It’s something we usually discuss with a bereaved family, funeral director, or couple-to-be-wed before the ceremony, and some churches have schedules of fees for secretaries, sextons, and other church employees who work for these special services. These ‘tips’ are expected, and although you generally won’t get any worse ‘service’ without them, many clergy count on them to supplement an all-too-often inadequate take-home salary.

Third, you ask for specific guidelines. I have to admit I don’t know what is normal in all cases and can only speak from my experience over the last year or so at St. Peter’s; but I have received between $100 and $200 dollars for funerals, and St. Peter’s suggests a $150 clergy fee for a wedding, in addition to fees for the organist, secretary, and sexton. Often a single, large check will be written to the church, and individual fees are distributed from that, with the undesignated remainder being counted as a general contribution to the parish. Sometimes an arrangement is made between a bereaved family and a funeral home, such that the funeral home director will write all the necessary checks and the family doesn’t have to think about money in its time of bereavement.

It can be shocking to think of clergy making a living from ministry to God’s people. If you’ve felt that way, you’re not alone. The early Church wrestled with this question, too. St. Paul tells us in his first letter to the Corinthians (9:7-15) that “In the same way [as other professionals make a living from their labor], the Lord has commanded that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel.” He himself boasts that he does not use this ‘right’ to make a living preaching the Gospel; instead, he worked ‘overtime’ (I Thessalonians 2:9) with his own hands as a tentmaker and received support from other, more mature churches, so that whichever fledgling mission church in which he labored would not have to face the financial burden of supporting him, while at the same time facing all the difficulties of starting up a new Christian community. Many priests today follow St. Paul’s model, and they are sometimes called ‘tentmaker priests.’ They usually serve in small congregations that cannot afford full-time clergy. But from the time of Solomon’s temple (2nd Chronicles 13:4) to today, it has been the practice of God’s people to support priests and pastors so that they can give their full attention and effort to edifying the Body of Christ.

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Question 4

Dear Curate: Here's a simple question: The Bad Girls of the Bible class read about Rahab and Joshua fit the battle of Jericho . . . . Why did they kill all the animals?  Couldn't they have used them? 

And. . .  Why was it necessary to destroy Jericho ?  I read ahead in the Bible since the class text stops with Rahab's part of the story.  The kings of the farther tribes sneaked over to make a peace.  Why wasn't this strategy available for Jericho?  Then, why were those tribes relegated to secondary status forever? 

Dear Parishioner: Ahh, the book of Joshua.  In past ages, it has provided both Christians and Jews with encouragement in the face of difficulty and opposition, a promise that God's victorious power is with us and will see us through to the Promised Land.  Today, however, many Christians find Joshua challenging because of its emphasis on Holy War.  Echoes of militant Islam are too near and clear to us, and the wholesale slaughter of people and animals grates against our sense of God's goodness and the value of life.  How could God really have commanded this kind of butchery?  Either the text is dishonest or deceived in claiming that God commanded it, or this is not the same God we serve.  I can't begin to give you an answer to that dilemma - my hunch is that the ancient world's attitude toward war was so strikingly and deeply different from our own that the gap is almost unbridgeable.  I do think, though, that as Christians it's good for us to continue to read Joshua and be troubled by it.  Whenever we ignore or discard part of the canon of God's word, we lose something of the revelation God intends for us; instead, when we add searching, honest prayer and in-depth bible study to our discomfort over Joshua, God can still use that book to speak to us today.

Now, the specifics you ask about.  Deuteronomy 20:10-18 sets the stage for us.  Moses, relaying the commandments of God as the Israelites stand poised to enter Canaan, instructs Israel how to besiege an enemy city.  First make them an offer of peace; if that fails, besiege the city.  When God gives the victory, kill all the men (the men would have been the warriors and civic leaders - leaving many of them alive could have risked a revolt), but let the women, children, livestock, and everything else be considered 'plunder.'  This is a relatively humane rule, compared to the war practices of other ancient peoples, and plunder was the only way most soldiers, in that day of few standing armies, got paid for risking their lives.  But Moses goes on, "This [that I have commanded you] is how you are to treat all the cities that are at a distance from you and do not belong to the nations nearby.  However, in the cities of the nations the LORD your God is giving you as an inheritance, do not leave alive anything that breathes.  'Completely destroy' them . . . . Otherwise, they will teach you to follow all the detestable things they do in worshiping their gods, and you will sin against the LORD your God." 

To answer the first question, I put the words 'completely destroy' in quotations to show that this is a colloquialism, a special word or phrase that has a unique meaning and context.  The Hebrew means both 'to completely destroy or exterminate' and 'devote or make sacred.'   These two concepts are not often found together in our minds today.  When we devote or consecrate something today, we expect it to continue to exist but be set apart as holy and used only for God's service; communion vessels, priests' vestments, prayer candles, churches, and gravesites are all things that we consecrate.  Ancient Israel did all these things, too - but they also had a level of consecration that went above and beyond that.  To make something as absolutely holy as it could be, as absolutely set apart for God as it could be, you had to utterly destroy it, as much as if it had never existed.  Israel wasn't the only ancient culture to practice this, and in some cultures it resulted in human sacrifice.  For ancient Israel , the practice of utter devotion/destruction usually didn't go that far (although it could have - see Exodus 13:2 and 34:19-20) because God specifically condemned human sacrifice.  But there remained this strong connection between the ideas of utter holiness and utter destruction. 

So the utter destruction of 'everything that breathes' in the book of Joshua has two functions: first, it removes every possible connection to the Canaanite religions, so that the worship of Yahweh in Israel should remain pure.  It gets a strong temptation out of the way.  Second, it reinforced the holiness of Israel as a people and the Promised Land as a holy land.  To utterly destroy the cities of Canaan was to proclaim that the Promised Land was utterly holy.  It was God's land which He gave to His holy people.  The utter destruction of these cities was an act of consecration, sanctification, setting apart for God's use.  To make this point particularly strong, notice the way God told Joshua (Joshua 6:18-19) to treat Jericho differently from the other cities they captured: Jericho was to be utterly destroyed, all its inhabitants killed, and all its worldly wealth dedicated to God's sanctuary (i.e. the army was not to be paid).  The usefulness of the animals or people or plunder had to take a back seat to the religious purpose of utter consecration.  This explains why, in Joshua 7, Achan's sin is so grievous; and why, in I Samuel 15, King Saul's failure to utterly destroy the Amalekites resulted in God's judgment. 

The passage from Deuteronomy 20 also gives us the answer to your second question. The inhabitants of Gibeon, the city you mentioned, knew that Joshua would not knowingly make peace with them or any other city in Canaan. Deuteronomy 20 allows Israel to make peace with far-off nations, but not with the nations of Canaan, as Gibeon was (see also Exodus 34:15-16).  So they resorted to a subterfuge, dressing their ambassadors in rags to appear as if they came from a far country, and making peace with Israel on that basis.  It was less a strategy of Joshua's and more secret diplomatic mission on the part of the Gibeonites. 

Why were the Gibeonites forced to work for the Israelites and be second-class citizens?  The terms that Moses instructed Israel to demand from conquered far-off cities were these: "If they accept [your offer of peace] and open their gates, all the people in it shall be subject to forced labor and shall work for you."  (Deut. 20:11)  Joshua had made peace with Gibeon on the basis of a subterfuge - but rather than nullifying the treaty when he discovered the deception, he keeps the terms of the treaty, because it was made with an oath.  See Joshua chapter 9 for this story.  So according to the terms of the treaty, the people of Gibeon had to become laborers for Israel in exchange for the protection of Israel 's armies.  Joshua keeps this treaty even when it means he gets drawn into a war - see Joshua chapter 10.

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Question 5

Dear Curate: Hello. I've always had a Biblical question that's puzzled me.  When Lazarus died, his soul (presumably) went to Heaven.  When Jesus resurrected him, did he get his soul back, or was he walking around without one?

Dear Parishioner: Good question. Judaism in ancient times taught a doctrine of the afterlife that was different from our typical concept of heaven and hell in America today.  People consisted of an inside, a.k.a. soul or spirit, and an outside, the body.  When the outer body died, the inner self was believed to go to the place of the dead.  Greeks called this place 'Hades.'  Hebrews called it 'Sheol.'  You can find references to this place throughout the Psalms, the wisdom literature (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon), and the prophets.  Its name is translated into English as "the pit" or "the grave."  This place was not , contrary to popular depictions, believed to be an evil place - nor was it a good place.  It was simply a place, a holding-tank for souls, as it were.  A place to sleep forever and forget your time among the living.  If you've read Thornton Wilder's play Our Town , you get something of the flavor of Sheol.  There was no last judgment, no sorting of sheep and goats, no Devil ruling in Hell, no harps and clouds and angels in heaven.  The good and bad alike went down to Sheol, and no one came again into the land of the living.

This idea had developed a bit by Jesus' time.  By that time we find ideas, drawn from the writings of the Old Testament, of a last judgment and a resurrection of the righteous.  Passages such as the end of the 23rd Psalm ("Surely goodness and righteousness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever ") and teachings that some people (namely Enoch and Elijah) had ascended to heaven without dying made devout Jews ask whether righteous souls really stayed in Sheol forever.  In fact, we see in the Gospels and in Acts that there was a huge disagreement between different sects of Judaism over whether soul and body were to be raised again in the last day or not.  Jesus uses parables to expand of the idea of the resurrection of the righteous and adds to it the judgment, the 'sheep and the goats,' ideas of hell being a place of torment and heaven of bliss, and other details. 

Jesus' raising of Lazarus fits neatly into these ideas of the afterlife.  Lazarus' soul was believed to have gone to Sheol, the place of the dead, from whence Jesus called it back into his body and raised him from death.  This was considered to be a proof that there will indeed be a resurrection of the righteous, as well as a proof of Jesus' connection to divine power.

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Question 6

Dear Curate: What's the difference between Episcopalians and the Roman Catholics?

Dear Parishioner: We get this a lot, usually because the inside of Episcopal churches often looks very similar to the inside of your typical Roman Catholic church - lots of devotional art, a stereotypical gothic feel, etc.  But there are some significant differences.

The first is structural.  Episcopalians are essentially the American branch of the Church of England.  There are other 'branches' in many countries around the world, and we call the entire 'tree' the Anglican Communion.  The head of the Anglican Communion is the Archbishop of Canterbury, and he functions similarly to the Pope for Roman Catholics - except that the Archbishop of Canterbury does not have the same degree of power or jurisdiction over Anglicans that the Pope does over Roman Catholics.  Where the Pope can issue decrees that are binding for all Roman Catholics, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the other leaders of the Anglican Communion have only advisory authority, and their decrees are not binding upon the laity.

Historically, the Church of England and the Roman Catholic church began to divide in 1539, when the English King Henry VIII, partially to enable him to divorce his childless wife, encouraged the bishops of the English church to declare that the Pope, as bishop of Rome, had no more jurisdiction over English people than any other foreign bishop.  This conflicted with Catholic ideas of the Pope's 'universal jurisdiction', so the Roman Catholic church punished and eventually excommunicated the English monarch and the Church of England, of which the monarch was now the official head.  Although this original split had little to do with the theological conflicts raging on the European continent between Martin Luther and Rome, Henry's heirs began to allow the Church of England to accept many of the theologies of Luther and the other reformers; at the same time, however, many in the English church were happy to remain Catholic in theology, if not in structure; so there developed two strands of Anglicanism within one church.  Both the Catholic and the Reformed strands of theology grew together within the Church of England, and eventually we came to see them both as strengths, enabling us to follow a 'middle way' (in Latin, via media ) between Rome and the Reformers.  So today you will find Episcopal parishes that are more Catholic in their worship and theology side-by-side with congregations that more highly treasure our Protestant heritage.  Each local Episcopal church and regional Episcopal diocese has a slightly different liturgical and theological flavor.

Other differences between Roman Catholics and Episcopalians today include theologies of the Blessed Virgin Mary: most Episcopalians do not revere Mary to the same degree that Catholics do or pray to her as an intercessor; however, there are some Episcopalians who do.  Episcopalians worship out of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, while Roman Catholics worship out of a standard missal.  Catholics have borrowed hymns from the Anglican tradition, but there are many differences in the two musical traditions.  Roman priests are celibate, while Episcopal priests are allowed and even encouraged to marry and raise families; Catholics do not ordain women, while some Episcopalians do (there is still fierce debate about women's ordination in some parts of the Episcopal Church).  Catholics hold a hard line against divorce and birth control; Episcopalians are usually more liberal in their attitudes about these issues.  Catholics celebrate an whole array of saints; Episcopalians celebrate them, too, but they reserve the title "Saint" properly to biblical figures only, such as the 12 Apostles.  Roman Catholics teach that there are seven sacraments: Episcopalians sometimes recognize all seven, but officially we teach that there are two - Baptism and Eucharist - while the other five are merely 'sacramental acts'.  Roman Catholics believe in transubstantiation, that is, that in the Eucharist the bread and wine become in the most real way possible (including physically) the Body and Blood of Christ.  Episcopalians teach that the bread and wine do become Body and Blood, but we don't say how or to what degree that change takes place.  This is called the doctrine of Real Presence. 

This is not an exhaustive list of differences, and to a large extent you will find that they vary from parish to parish.  Nor should all these differences obscure the remarkable degree to which the two churches are similar.  Both are governed by bishops.  Both trace their roots back in history through the medieval Roman church to the 12 Apostles themselves.  Both accept the same creeds and pray many of the same prayers.  Both use liturgical vestments and have a similar style of worship.  There are many other similarities, too, and I encourage you to visit several local Catholic churches and several local Episcopal churches to do your own comparison.

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Question 7

Dear Curate: It has been my understanding that the Lord's Prayer and the Creeds were always corporate - that is, that all believers within earshot are welcome to join in.  Are there ever any occasions when that would not be so?

Dear Parishioner: None.  The creeds are meant to be completely ecumenical.  They are the ancient creeds of the whole Church before there were any splits or denominations, and they express the most fundamental assertions and basic stories of the Christian faith that should and often do still today transcend denominational boundaries.  Anyone who in good conscience can say the creeds is considered to hold all that is necessary of Christian doctrine, and Episcopalians are able to participate in them wherever they may be.  That's why the Apostles' creed is used at Baptisms - it's the minimum standard of belief in the Gospel message, beyond which no doctrine need be required for salvation or for incorporation in this church through baptism.  There are, however, other things that are required for the full unity of the Episcopal church with other churches on a denominational level.

For the last century or so, the Episcopal Church has used the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral as the foundation and minimum standard for unity among Christian denominations.  You can find this document in the Historical Documents section in the back of your 1979 Prayer Book.  The Quadrilateral is so called because it contains four points:

1. The Holy Scriptures as containing all things necessary to salvation
2. The Apostles' and Nicene creeds as sufficient statements of the Christian faith.
3. The use of these two sacraments (at least) -- Baptism and Holy Communion
4. The historic episcopate (i.e. maintaining or obtaining the unbroken historic succession of bishops from the Apostles to today's bishops)

This means that any church which includes all four of these points is considered by us to be a full expression of Christ's One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic church, and a church with which it is our responsibility to seek full communion and, eventually, total unity.  I mention the Quadrilateral here because it shows how much the Episcopal Church considers the creeds to be the minimum standard of Christian doctrine.  We have no other confession or authoritative doctrinal statement.  Even our 39 Articles are considered only historical guidelines, not authoritative doctrines. 

The Quadrilateral came into being late in the 19th century, as Episcopalians were starting to work toward unity with Rome, the Eastern Orthodox, and other Christian groups.  By using the creeds as minimum standards of doctrine, it intended to clear away all the historical underbrush of Reformation doctrinal conflicts and stake out a clear path toward a reunion based on the plain, simple Gospel of Jesus Christ.  No dogmas about Mary, no worries about icons, no wrangling over double predestination, no shutting Christians out of the Church because they wanted to use vestments or candles in worship, or observe certain saints' days.  All those things became inessentials.  The creeds defined the essential doctrines of the faith, and Episcopalians are willing to let everything else be inessential. 

Although this approach made perfect sense to some, Roman Catholics had just promulgated dogmas (when a doctrine or teaching is upgraded to an absolute essential, it becomes a 'dogma') about Mary and the Pope, so they couldn't go along with the idea.  And the Nicene creed is a problem for our relations with the Eastern Orthodox because they don't include the phrase "and the Son" in this line: "I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of Life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son."  Since this phrase was not in the Nicene Creed originally, they don't like us putting it in and calling it an essential doctrine, so West and East can't agree on which version of the Nicene creed is really the essential one.  And in America, many of the Protestant denominations are uncomfortable with the mention of hell (He suffered and was buried; he descended into hell; on the third day he rose again . . .") and the word 'Catholic', because that strikes at the heart of Protestant independence from the historic episcopate.  Some churches have also revised the creeds to be use gender-neutral language or to reflect doubts, which they consider reasonable, about the Virgin Birth of Christ.  So you'll often find, in other churches, changes made to the creeds as you know them.  So there is a question as to whether all Christian denominations really have the same creeds, and whether it's appropriate to say the creed in those churches.  The use of the creeds in Episcopal churches is intended, as I said above, to be completely ecumenical.  The reality sometimes falls short. 

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Question 8

Dear Curate: I have a question about the use of an Old Testament verse in the New Testament. Psalm 51:4b reads ". . . that thou mightest be justified in thy sayings, and be clear when thou judgest." This is David speaking humbly and self-critically, and accepting God's righteous sentence. Yet in Romans 3:4b Paul quotes that verse: ". . . That thou mightest be justified in thy sayings, and mightest overcome when thou art judged," yet he's speaking of the faith of God being unaffected by man's unbelief. David's reasoning made sense to me, but Paul's adaptation seems incoherent. Do they somehow mean the same thing to you? If so, why were they worded differently? Does Paul imply that God is judged?

Dear Parishioner: There are two parts to your question: the first concerns the wording and the second concerns the reasoning of the two authors, and their relationship to each other.

Let's look first at the key words. In Psalm 51 the Hebrew word for 'justified' is 'tsadaq' (I'm relying upon Strong's Concordance for Hebrew here), which means publicly to be shown to be morally right; it has strong legal connotations. The Greek word that Paul uses is 'dikaioo', which means essentially the same thing, legal connotations and all. In this case, the concept passed correctly from Hebrew to Greek, and from both to English.

The second key word is 'clear' in Psalm 51 and 'overcome' in Romans - 'zakah' in Hebrew means to be clear or innocent, as we would say, "The jury cleared him of all charges." It's another way to state that God is correct to judge the way he has. God is the judge, in this scenario, not the defendant; David is telling us that God has the right to judge him (Against you only have I sinned, and so you are right to judge.) but also that God's judgments themselves are unambiguously correct, and that that right-ness is clearly evident. Remember King Solomon's legal judgment that everyone recognized as profoundly wise - this is the same image.

The Greek word that Paul quotes, however, is 'nikeseos', a form of the word 'nike' (yes, like on the shoes), which means 'victory.' The word has legal usages, meaning, as you can probably guess, 'to win a case at court.' Where God was originally judge alone, now He's both judge and plaintiff. The difference between the Hebrew and Greek terms is real, but the concepts are similar. In both versions God 'wins' the case and His judgments are validated. Why the change in wording? It probably has to do with the Septuagint. Remember, the 'bible' Paul learned from and is quoting from is NOT the original Hebrew text, but the Greek translation of the Hebrew scriptures called the Septuagint. All the New Testament writers quote from the Septuagint, which was the prevalent translation in their day, read in synagogues around the Mediterranean world. It's likely that the translators who wrote the Septuagint made this slight change in wording from 'innocent' to 'victorious'. Because the concepts as they relate to legal proceedings are so similar, it was probably considered a good translation. Think of the images in Isaiah about God pleading with Israel , making a case as before a judge. That's probably what the translators were thinking of, and why they made the short jump from 'clear' to 'victorious'.

So clearly Paul did not consciously make the change in wording himself: it would have been too easily recognized as such because many people knew this scripture, and besides, I don't see evidence that Paul was in the habit of changing the words of scripture to fit his purposes. Rather, he's quoting from the Septuagint, and probably from memory, rather than from a written source. That's generally the way it was done among New Testament authors, and that's why you sometimes find among the New Testament authors miss-attribution (i.e. an author will say he's quoting from Isaiah and then proceed to quote two halves of two completely different verses, only one of which appears in Isaiah - this happens in Mark 1:2-3) or miss-quotation.

The second part of your question has to do with Paul's use of the quotation. It's certainly a different context from Psalm 51, as you noted. David, in Psalm 51, is humbly repenting of his sins and says this to recognize God's authority to judge and the evident correctness in His judgment already handed down. Paul is concerned to prove to his readers that God is always right and faithful and true, even when people prove unfaithful or dishonest. The part of this verse that matters most to Paul is the aspect of demonstrable or clearly evident right-ness. Just as a victory in court is supposed to prove publicly and unambiguously that the plaintiff is correct, and just as a correct and wise judgment is evident to all, so also God's right-ness is provable, demonstrable, and clearly evident. "Will [people's] lack of faith nullify God's faithfulness?" Paul asks. "By no means! Let God be true," he writes, "and every man a liar. As it is written, 'So that you may be proved right when you speak, and prevail when you judge.'"

I think Paul's use of Psalm 51 is good and effective, despite the difference in wording between Hebrew and the Septuagint/Paul's memory/the Greek of Romans. It is on the basis of such verses as this one from Psalm 51, and Paul's writing in Romans, that Christians believe in the absolute moral correctness of God.

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Question 9

Dear Fr. John: What is the basic textual difference between the "old" Book of Common Prayer  and the "new" one? Who wrote and edited the new one, and why? What was wrong with the old one? Thank you.

Dear Parishioner: Good question.  Each of the parts of the Anglican Communion worldwide has its own prayer book.  The most famous Book of Common Prayer is the English version of 1662, which has since become the basis for most other Anglican prayer books, including the American ones.  This 1662 version is still, as far as I know, the official prayer book of the Church of England.

The American church has gone through several editions.  The first one was a slightly adapted version of the 1662 English book.  Since then there have been several revisions, of which the most recent was 1979, and the second-most recent was 1928.  In Episcopal churches you'll often hear references to the 'old' 1928 book and the 'new' 1979 book.  The next revision is scheduled for about 2015.

Revisions happen for a variety of reasons.  Sometimes the changes are theological, such as when the 1979 book removed much of the most graphic atonement language ("washed in the blood," etc.) in favor of stronger creation language.  The emphasis reflected a theological shift from the cross and sin to the goodness of creation, from judgment to new life in Christ.  For a second example, under the 1928 book all baptisms were private, family baptisms.  By 1979 people thought all baptisms should be public affairs held during the Sunday worship service, so the liturgy is written with parts for "the entire congregation" to say.  The 1979 book also introduced a baptismal covenant, which was not part of the 1928 rite.

One of the reasons people want to revise the 1979 book is that its language, while more gender-inclusive than 1928, does not go as far as 21st century progressives would like to see.  Some of the newer, experimental liturgies coming out of the Episcopal Church headquarters are very inclusive, both in their language about humans and in that which refers to God. 

Sometimes changes happen because of new discoveries in liturgical scholarship.  For instance, the structure of the Eucharistic rite in the 1928 book reflects Reformation liturgical traditions - by 1979, scholars had unearthed a number of new manuscripts and done some new studies, all of which gave them a much clearer picture of what early Christian worship was like in the 2nd and 3rd centuries.  1979 incorporates some of this scholarship, so our worship now is more strongly rooted to the ancient traditions than it was before. 

Sometimes prayerbooks need to be revised just to be intelligible to modern readers.  Few Americans in the 21st century would find the 1928 book's thees and thous to be comfortable worship language.  So 1979 uses much more contemporary language.

Sometimes liturgies need to be revised because they're simply unwieldy in modern buildings, or the 'flow' doesn't seem to be right.  For instance, in the 1928 book it was common for altars to be flat up against the back wall of the worship space, such as ours at St. Peter's.  The priest stands with his back to the congregation.  Today, most Episcopal altars are more like tables, and they're out away from the wall, with the priest standing behind - facing the congregation - to do the ceremony.  The 1979 book takes this into account.  (This also reflects a theological shift from a more Roman Catholic idea of the sacrifice of the mass to a more Protestant idea of the Lord's Supper - for a sacrifice, you need an altar; for a supper, you need a table.)

So the "basic textual difference" is pervasive: there are many differences, and although most of them aren't drastic in degree, they sometimes represent shifts in theology or situation.  It's worth reading over the two to compare. 

In the Episcopal Church, prayer book revisions are the responsibility of a special committee on Liturgy and Music.  This committee is part of the General Convention, which is our governing body, and which meets every three years.  The Committee on Liturgy and Music keeps abreast of new developments in liturgy and tries to keep in touch with what people want in a prayer book, and what it's like for clergy to use it.  When the time comes for revisions, this committee makes the ones they feel are appropriate (as a committee of General Convention, they can also receive requests for revisions from laity and clergy at large) and submits them to the entire General Convention for a vote.  If the Convention approves the changes, a new book (or, if the changes are small, a supplement) is printed and put up for sale.  Individual parishes are then responsible to purchase the new books themselves.

Changing the prayer book is a difficult and risky business - the last change, from 1928 to 1979, resulted in many people leaving the Episcopal Church because they felt like it just wasn't the same church.  Change can be very controversial.  But there are pros and cons to every book of worship.  Usually when a major change is made, the bishops will allow change to happen slowly on the ground, so that no one gets too many feathers ruffled too fast.  Thanks for the question.

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Question 10

Dear Fr. John: What is the difference between a rector and a vicar? 

Dear Parishioner: A Rector is a priest in charge of a parish who has been duly hired by the Vestry and approved by the bishop.   Rectors have certain rights granted by the canons which may be viewed on-line from Church Publishing at http://www.churchpublishing.org/general_convention/pdf_const_2003/Title_III_Ministry.pdf.
Canon III, title 9, section 5 sets out the duties and responsibilities of a Rector.  In summary, a Rector has full authority "for the conduct of the worship and the spiritual jurisdiction of the parish, subject to the rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer," the canons, and the Bishop.  For the purposes of this ministry, the Rector has "full and free use" of the parish buildings, furniture, and records - but not the money, since that's the Vestry's jurisdiction.  The Rector is the sole supervisor of the parish staff and is the chair of Vestry meetings.  Rectors report to both the Bishop and the Vestry, and both Bishop and Vestry are involved in the discipline of a Rector if that is necessary.

Vicars are essentially priests-in-charge; they're usually not hired by the Vestry but appointed by the Bishop; and they are responsible not to the Vestry but directly to the Bishop.  This usually happens in small parishes that can't afford to pay a full-time rector or in larger parishes during interim periods.  Vicars report only and directly to the Bishop, and their appointments are usually temporary.

In other parts of the Anglican Communion, the two words have different connotations.  I believe that in England the priest in a small parish is called a Vicar and the priest in a large parish is called a Rector.  It also used to be the case in England that a priest who was the Rector of multiple parishes (and drew multiple livings from those parishes) could then afford to hire at a pittance a vicar to do the actual pastoral work of the parish.

The two words explain themselves: 'vicar' is the same root as 'vicarious' - a vicar is the vicarious pastor of a parish when the real authority - be he bishop or priest - is elsewhere. 'Rector' comes from the Latin word 'rectus,' which means 'right' or 'just' - so a 'rector' became a name for someone who judges rightly, hence also for a leader.  The Latin word 'rector' means literally this: leader; master; tutor; (of animals) guide, controller, rider; (nautical) pilot; (military) commander; (in politics) ruler, governor.  (from the New College Latin and English Dictionary, 1995.) A Rector, then, is to be the leader of the parish; to guide the 'animals' in the pews (hence the metaphor of 'shepherd'); to steer a proper course for the ship of the church; to be a faithful commander in time of crisis;and to exercise authority, when needed, to govern the parish and apply Christian discipline. A vicar, in all practicality, does all this too, but on behalf of someone else - vicariously.

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Question 11

Dear Father: Can any church other than the Catholic Church actually excommunicate a parishioner?  I thought communion, in this instance, meant communion with Rome - not with Canterbury or Salt Lake City or Boston or New York .  Bishop Herzog was excommunicated by Presiding Bishop Jefferts-Schori, is that correct?

Dear Parishioner: Yes, many churches exercise the discipline of excommunication.  To the Roman Catholics, this means being shut out from communion with Rome and access to the Sacraments.  To Episcopalians, this means that the clergy refuse to give Holy Communion to a person until they acknowledge and repent of their sins.  To other types of churches, it may mean getting ‘kicked out' of the church or being asked never to serve in leadership or teaching positions.  All these measures reflect St. Paul's instruction about excommunication in 1st Corinthians: that it is only a last resort of pastoral discipline and never a reactionary move; that it only be done in response to notorious and public sin on the part of the person excommunicated, for public sin and scandal demand public repentance; and that, in the end, it is intended only as a temporary measure.  All excommunication is supposed to be temporary and conditional – when the person repents of the sin and makes public reconciliation and restitution, nothing should bar that person from being brought back into the life of the church as a testimony to God's forgiveness.

The Episcopal church's rules on excommunication may be found on page 409 of the Book of Common Prayer and they make interesting reading.  I have known several priests who have put those rules into effect in parish life, though it happens rarely. 

In the case of former Bishop of Albany Daniel Herzog, remember that excommunication in Episcopal Church discipline is only refusing Holy Communion to a person, and this is done usually only in the case of public and notorious sins.  Removal from church office is a completely different matter and requires a long series of investigations, committee hearings, and proceedings from the Ecclesiastical Trial Court, which body (I believe) is responsible only to General Convention and not to Presiding Bishop Jefferts-Schori.  Herzog's case was unusual.  He has not been excommunicated, because the Episcopal Church offers Holy Communion to all baptized Christians, and he is still a baptized Christian regardless of his change from one denomination to another.  Nor was he officially removed from office through the disciplinary proceedings described above, because his move took place just after he retired voluntarily.  Rather, because the Roman Catholic church does not recognize Episcopal ordinations to the priesthood or the episcopate as valid, Daniel Herzog had to declare that he accepts their view of the matter; that is, he had to renounce all his ordinations as deacon, priest, and bishop as invalid and null and void, becoming simply a lay person in the Roman Catholic church.

So there was no need for disciplinary proceedings to oust him – he had both retired and renounced his orders voluntarily, placing him completely out of any continuing jurisdiction of the Episcopal Church. 

As far as I know, Herzog had maintained good relations with Presiding Bishop Jefferts-Schori and the entire Episcopal Church during his tenure as Bishop of Albany.  From the reports of reactions from around the Church (available here for on-line viewing) reactions were neither vengeful nor angry, but rather disappointment at his renunciation of his orders and best wishes for his life as a layperson in communion with Rome .

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Question 12

Dear Fr. John: Why do we add “For thine is the Kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever” to the Lord's Prayer?  The Roman Catholics do not, and they do not in the English cathedrals I've seen.

Dear Parishioner: Great question.  There are two possible answers. First, remember that the Lord's Prayer appears in two different Gospels: Matthew (chapter 9) and Luke (chapter 11).  The version usually found in Matthew includes the final benediction.  The version in Luke does not, and it is generally quite a bit different from the more well-known version from Matthew.  Here it is in the New International Version (Luke 11:2-4):

He said to them, “When you pray, say:
‘Father,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins,
for we also forgive everyone who sins against us.
And lead us not into temptation.'”

You'll notice a few of the familiar words from Matthew do not appear.  Scholars are divided over which came first and whether Luke left out some things or Matthew added some things in, or whether they both used an independent source and treated it differently. 

The second answer is that even the version we're familiar with from Matthew is not necessarily the best version.  The earliest and most reliable Greek manuscripts that we have do not include the final benediction in Matthew.  We do find it in later manuscripts of that gospel, but only in some, not all.  Many scholars believe that this indicates the original version of the prayer most likely did not include the benediction, which was added in by later generations who were already using the prayer in worship services and felt like it needed a benediction at the end (much like we expect the doxology at the end of a canticle, or an Amen at the end of a hymn).  Though this is a reasonable conclusion from the evidence, keep in mind that there are other possible answers, and we will probably never be able to tell with historical precision what the original version of the prayer was. 

That being said, the version that is most popular among American Protestants has long been the traditional one from Matthew, including the benediction.  Christian groups who use some other version of the prayer may be using Luke's version, or they may be using a version that leaves out the benediction because it may not be original.  Either motive is a pure one, but there is no problem using the traditional version, either.  Whether the benediction is an add-on or not, it is beautiful and true in its own right, and it accurately reflects Jesus' teaching on prayer.

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