How Christians go into the world matters. The “Good News” to we which bear witness has much to do with the character of our gatherings for worship. (p.481). These words are especially relevant to many of us as we begin to head out to summer CPE assignments in the next few days and weeks. As I read the Michael Cartwright’s story of the Ibillin congregation (p. 481-483), I could not help but think about how we as a junior class have formed ourselves as a community within the Seabury community (I also include those of you who are not junior M. Div’s as well). While the Dean did not lock the doors at our winter retreat, or force us to hug (that would have been an interesting icebreaker), I must confess that I care about each and every one of you in a much deeper way than I did at the start of the academic year. I suspect that many of you feel the same way. In fact I know that you do, given your recent expressions of concern, support and offers of care for my family over the past few months.

The challenge present for all of us is about the ethos of Christian witness. Cartwright tells us that “how we understand the significance of Christian ‘peoplehood’ makes a difference to how we think about the message of the gospel itself” (p.483). As we interact with others we must keep in mind that our actions directly bear on the credibility of the Church’s witness to the world. Cartwright provides us with seven features of the ethos of witness with which we must be concerned: mission, praising God, keeping time, remembering God’s story, serving God, performing liturgy, and exercising authority (p.484-486). As each of us interact with the people of the world in these upcoming summer months, we will have a chance to observe what Cartwright calls the “decisive distinction between the Church and world”(p.486) The way in which we are able to make this distinction visible to others will go a long way toward helping them discover the power of Christ’s transforming presence in their lives.

Cartwright talks about St. Francis’ admonishment to proclaim the good news of the gospel wherever we are sent, using words if needed. (p.487). I am reminded of the various stories we have discussed over the past nine months as we have related ways in which we have ministered, and have received ministry. In very few of these situations have the words that someone has said been a decisive factor in the care provided through the particular crisis being discussed. Rather, I have been struck by the number of times where we have simply related stories about the quiet presence that has made the difference. As I listened, I have often thought of St. Chrysostum’s prayer reminding us of Christ’s promise that when two or three are gathered together in his Name he will be within their midst.

As we head out into the world to begin our summer ministry may we all take with us an awareness of the quiet presence that travels with us. May we all bear witness to that presence. Use words if you must.

Stephen Fowl in this essay explores the relationship between “being blessed” at the close of Eucharist and one’s financial status and wealth. He points out that there is some Scriptural evidence that not only spiritual blessings but “material abundance” result from being blessed by God (as it was in Eden, for example) (456). However, Fowl sees stronger support for the Biblical theme that “the amount and quality of our possessions [does not necessarily correspond] to judgments about the degree to which God is pleased with us,” citing Amos’ warning to the Israelites and Job’s friends (456). Fowl does not see a review of “blessing” stories in Scripture as fully addressing the relationship between blessings and possessions; rather, he feels we need to understand God more fully. In order to do this, Fowl looks more carefully at the Eucharist to see what interactions with God precede the final blessing.

Key to the Eucharist is the gift exchange beginning with the offering of bread and wine which are then consecrated and offered back to us as “The gifts of God for the people of God”(457). This leads to the inference that God gives us our possessions as gifts, not as reward or payment, but because of “God’s boundless love for us” (455). But what are other implications of these gifts? Paul’s letters and David’s prayer support the idea that gifts to God are simply a return of what he has given us, so that through this gift exchange we are simply participating in the “divine life. We are ‘folded into God’ in such a way that we are neither giver nor really receiver” (459). We must therefore hold our possessions in ways that “appropriately witness to God’s identity and desires for us (460). In the New Testament the common life of Christians involved freely sharing of their possessions. Further, early Christians had a unity of purpose with one another and entrusted specified persons to control the distribution of the church’s common assets. When attitudes were wrong and stealing occurred, such as in the Ephesian church (Eph. 4:25-5:2) Paul needed to admonish them to return to the way of agape (Eph. 5:1-2). Fowl likens this approach, where the stealing is made known, and forgiveness and reconciliation occur, as different from what occurs in today’s world in a situation where privatization of individual possessions is a much more common value (465). Using as an example the jockeying around that occurs among those who share a refrigerator, Fowl asserts that the contemporary Christian community must reclaim “the practices and presumptions behind the treatment of possessions in Acts 4-6 and Ephesians 4” (465), that is, unity, trust, truthfulness, forgiveness, and reconciliation(466).

Given the topic, I had some hope that this article would provide some guidance about how to organize one’s personal possessions and money in order to best witness to God’s abundance, or a framework for the formation of a congregational budget that would reflect most fully the goals of the church. Fowls’ remarks were directed mostly at the church as a whole, and the early church at that. Assuming we maintain the attitudes and verbal practices of the early church, how does a congregation decide how much of the budget to allocate toward “benevolence,” (a word that itself implies charity more than a mutual gift-giving in light of our participation in the “divine life” (459)) as opposed to the building fund? Where does money to assist in spiritual formation of the children fit in? Should the church itself have possessions other than those directly related to worship? The early church held their wealth in common; some of it was distributed outside the church and some given to support its ministers, such as the Ephesians’ gifts to Paul. Given the socioeconomic and political structures of the United States, how can congregations now behave most responsibly to witness to the bounty given to us by God? I do not feel more prepared to answer these questions than before reading Fowl’s article.

In Chapter 23 “Offering: Treasuring the Creation,” Ben Quash explores humanity’s relationship with the rest of God’s creation. By examining that creation in the context of the offering of bread, wine and other gifts presented to God in the Eucharist, Quash helps us to understand that all of creation is a gift from God. By returning to God a portion of what God has bestowed upon us, we recognize our dependence on the grace of God (p.318), and acknowledge our role as part of the fellowship of all things made visible in the Eucharist (p.318).

In attempting to answer the question of how the human relationship to nature should be construed, Quash describes the tension that exists between our freedom as human beings and the existence of determining forces outside our control (p.307). He sets forth various “management models” that we use to make decisions about our environment. Whether we find it impossible to change our voracious human demand for more goods and services (p.307), believe in a system whereby regulatory frameworks can temper human greed (p.308), are able to vision a new state of affairs where people radically change how they interact with each other and the world around them (p.308), or believe that a “sustainable” balance of development, equity and protection can be achieved (p.308), such systems require us to “ascribe worth” to our environment in light of our natures as human beings.

In our liturgical offering, however, we approach creation in a different way. The bread, wine and money are offered as “the product of human labors in the context of God’s gracious provision” (p.311). Through such offerings we begin to think about the fact that all creation belongs to God. We make the offering trusting that God’s goodness will reciprocate this action. The focus is not on the gifts themselves, but on the actions of giving and receiving (p.311). As Christians we develop a strong awareness that all things come from God’s goodness, and all things end in God’s glory. Furthermore, we learn that the transformation of these gifts happens not through our own merits but as a result of the grace of God (p.315).

When viewed in this light, our environment becomes not a problem to be managed, but rather a gift to be valued as an object of God’s love and regard for us, “enjoyable and useable in the service of life and salvation” (p.316). As such, the environment becomes a communal possession that we are to conserve and use in such a way that the divinely appointed purpose of these gifts is realized (p.317). We are not to cling to, hoard or manipulate these creaturely things. Rather, we are to recognize that we are part of all creation’s dependence on the grace of God.

Quash’s words give me pause as I contemplate the way in which we Americans interact with our environment. We make sure our cupboards are full, our garages are big enough to house all our toys, and our retirement plans, IRA’s and pension funds are all fully vested. We offer to God what is left over after all the credit card payments have been made. We consume millions of gallons of oil each day as we ensure that we can comfortably move about this planet that has been created for our use. Do we in fact offer to God the gifts we have been graciously given? Or are we simply offering up the left over profit from our well managed lives? How do our offerings reflect the way in which we “ascribe worth” to God as we participate in the Eucharist that God has so graciously provided for us?

As I was reading Chapter 15, “Discerning: Politics and Reconciliation,” by William T. Cavanaugh, I kept thinking about the many churches in which I worship where the American flag is found on one side of the altar and the Episcopal flag is found on the other. Is such an image useful in helping us overcome the idea of separation of church and state? Or does it reinforce a message that church must exist within the context of the state?

Cavanaugh brings the concepts of politics and religion together by describing both as a story of reconciliation. In the “state of nature”, human persons are seen as existing as individuals, without allegiance toward one another. The equality of hope entailed by such a state results in a condition of hostility and violence toward one another from which we must be protected. Our modern political order attempts to reconcile us from this state through the creation of a system of governance that protects us from the violence that constantly threatens us. According to Cavanaugh, however, the modern political state is ultimately tragic because our lack of common ends ensures that the conflict upon which the legitimacy of the state depends is always inevitable.

In Christian thought, the biblical story of the Fall becomes the vehicle by which we are able to see the true means of reconciliation. Violence becomes a deviation from the norm, the result of the scattering of pre-Fall unity experienced by the human race. Our salvation, the return to unity with God and each other which existed before the fall, begins with our gathering as a people. This gathering, seen through the context of our Liturgy, becomes the way by which we remember the reconciliation that has been brought about by Christ. Our liturgy becomes a profound witness to the world that true reconciliation in Christ is possible.

This all sounds wonderful in theory. But as I read this chapter, I keep reflecting upon the dual image of both flags flanking the altar. I also reflect upon the many ways in which we express our sense of individuality within the context of our liturgy. I think of the ways in which we respond to liturgy that seems different from what we expect. We argue about whether readings were too dramatic or too wooden. We talk about when we are “moved” by liturgy, or when it does not “touch us.” We talk about whether people should be included in the church or whether other people who don’t agree with us should just get on with it and leave. We suggest that perhaps someone that is different from us would be more comfortable at the church down the street. There are so many ways in which we still view ourselves as individuals competing over our different but equal visions of hope, rather than being part of the unified Body of Christ.

So I guess the question comes down to whether I believe that I am an individual ultimately having no true allegiance to any of the other individuals that are a part of my world and my life. Or am I a member of the Body of Christ, ultimately becoming a citizen of the City of God in true unity with not only God but each and every one of you?