Members of the Primate’s Theological Commission celebrate their last meeting together. (L-R, from back) Archbishop Fred Hiltz, Bishop Linda Nicholls, the Rev. Jamie Howison, Bishop Benjamin Arreak, the Rev. Paul Jennings, Dr. Walter Deller, the Rev. Dr. Lisa Wang, the Rev. Dr. Joanne Mercer, and Bishop Stephen Andrews. Not present: the Rev. Dr. Trudy Lebans, Dr. Robert Moore, The Rev. Dr. Gary Thorne, and Madeleine Urion.
I don’t much like meetings and I am not a big fan of committee work. I do, however, love the theological enterprise.
So when then-Primate Michael Peers invited me to accept an appointment to the Primate’s Theological Commission in 2003, I didn’t hesitate.
In the weeks before the commission’s first meeting, however, two things began to register.
First, while many of the commission’s 12 members were actively engaged in the academic world, my theological work was parish-based, expressed primarily in preaching and occasional writing. Yes, I read all the time, but would that be enough?
Second, it dawned on me that I had signed on for meetings—seven years of semi-annual meetings.
In the week prior to our first gathering, I visited a friend and theological mentor, Robert Farrar Capon. During his ministry in the Episcopal Church, Robert had certainly done his share of committee work, and while he was entirely sympathetic to my qualms, he suggested I might inject into this particular group a reminder that theology is, among other things, “a joyful lark.”
“Theology is a serious discipline,” he added, “so serious we can’t afford to let ourselves become too serious about it.”
His words made a strange kind of sense.
A few days later, I arrived at St. Michael’s House in Oakville, Ont., feeling nervous and excited, carrying a commitment to really en-joy this work.
And what did I discover? That everyone sitting at the table basically shared my nervous excitement and intuitively sensed our work could be joyful, fun, and invigorating. Who knew?
Now, our seven-year term completed, I am delighted to say we never really lost sight of our shared ground, even in the midst of some tough deliberations that produced The St. Michael Report and The Galilee Report. There were moments when we strained—really strained—to hear each other, and when the seriousness of the theological task did press us into close corners.
Yet we discovered our task was never insurmountable, this challenge of doing theological reflection together.
In our recent round of closing sessions, we considered why this had been the case and agreed that, in rooting our work in the eucharist, daily prayer, and Bible study, a solid foundation had been set.
We also shared meals, coffee and tea, walks, fresh air breaks, and late-night social times. How could one sit defensively in a theological corner when you had heard someone tell a great story or share a significant piece of life?
Many of those pieces of life were transformational, even poignant.
Over seven years, three of us struggled with major health concerns, including cancer, and one became a first-time mother. A book was published, a doctorate awarded; jobs and ministries ended or began. One member was ordained priest, another as bishop. Two people left; two others joined us midstream.
And for whatever wondrous combination of reasons—and certainly by the grace of God—this particular group was characterized by a willingness to truly listen, right from the beginning. Marked by a spirit of respect and trust, it was oh-so-natural that we quickly came to befriend one another.
This doesn’t mean our differences weren’t real or our perspectives not passionately held.
But, in our friendship in Christ, we had a small taste of what it means to be together, participants in the Body of Christ, and from that place to “do” theology in community.
For all that we responded to the church’s invitation to produce various official reports and statements, perhaps the most substantial thing we can offer is our experience of life together, in the midst of our differences, passionate in our enjoyment of this faith, bound together as members of one Body—not a bad thing to offer to a church often deeply aware of its divisions.
