January 21, 2016

Roots

“Where are you from?”

The answer to this deceptively easy question often depends on the cultural context. When I lived in an Appalachian community, this question really was asking, “Where did you go to high school?” In the community I live now, folks are divided into two camps: natives to the small town and those who are not. And if you’re a native to the town, then the follow-up question is about which street you lived on as a child.

“Where are you from?” The way people answer this depends on their context. It’s not as easy as simply a naming a town, a state, or country.

I’ve been mulling over the importance of knowing our roots as the primates of the Anglican Church met last week in England with the Archbishop of Canterbury. This is not the place to debate the merits of their decisions, including the three-year suspension of The Episcopal Church from serving on some of the councils of the wider church. But in reading many of the commentaries about the actions of the primates, I was struck in particular by one elegant description of the roots of our Anglican tradition.

Bishop Dan Martins of the Diocese of Springfield writes, “Anglican churches are connected to one another by the golden thread of the English spiritual, liturgical, theological, and pastoral tradition–an ethos that was born when the gospel piggy-backed on Roman legions arriving on British soil, came to maturity through the Middle Ages and the flowering of Benedictine monasticism, got tested in the tumult of the Reformation, and was released in the power of the Holy Spirit during the great missionary movements into the territories of the British Empire during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.”

Wow. It’s a much better answer than Henry VIII wanted a divorce, so he started the Anglican church. This explanation reveals both the beauty and the complexity of our tradition, these threads of theology and spirituality woven from different places and times into a grand tapestry of the Anglican tradition. No wonder we struggle sometimes to understand each other. Yet knowing the history, exploring the roots and how it affects our life together today is critical as we struggle to stay in union with one another and to move forward not of one mind, but of one body.

I think too of the importance on a local level of knowing our roots. Imagine a vestry at its first meeting with newly elected members taking some time to talk about where the church has come from. Perhaps the church began with a few people gathered in a house, then grew into its first building. Maybe the congregation has played a pivotal role in the past hundred years in shaping and serving the community. The church might have a strong history in social justice, ministry to children, or a commitment to deep engagement with scripture. Maybe there was a split in the congregation, financial mismanagement, or clergy misconduct.

I challenge vestries to come up with a paragraph about the congregation, describing its beginnings and its life to the present day. Then, perhaps, in knowing where the congregation has come from, the vestry and leadership is better positioned to talk about where it might go.

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