In moments of despair
It is to the liturgy of the Anglican St. James Cathedral that I have been going to for the past few years. The Christmas and Easter celebrations are extraordinarily beautiful with the pomp, ceremony and devotion combining to make uniquely inspirational services. During the rest of the year, it is the evensongs that I attended, with their quiet, sincere services preceded by organ recitals, which I also attended. I also had the great fortune of living in the vicinity of the Cathedral, making my weekly trips there an easy task.
This last year, it all changed. The clergy at St. James are decidedly for the ordination of gay priests, is actively involved in gay issues (for example, advertising Toronto's yearly gay parade in their website), and my strong intuitions tell me that one of their reverends - Lisa Wang - is a lesbian. And even if she isn't, she has insidiously taken over many aspects of the services, appearing several times a day at times from morning Eucharist to afternoon evensong. Her messages are so uninspired, that they are actually dark and depressing, with their focus mostly being on oppressive "social justice" issues. But it isn't just hers; this was that has become focus of most of the clergys' sermons.
I have essentially been brought up in the Anglican tradition. I love the liturgy, the music, the prayers, and the churches. I have been in church choirs since the age of ten or eleven, all the way until seventeen, and even after that participated for many years in college and community choirs.
But, the controversies that exploded in recent years over the ordination of homosexual priests, and blessing of same-sex couples, and St. James' open support of all these measures clinched it for me. I made a decision not to return last year. In fact, I only went once to a Tuesday lunch-hour organ recital.
So, this year, for the Christmas day service, I opted for a small Lutheran church, just around the corner from my home.
It is a lovely, humble church, small but beautifully constructed. It has a simple adobe structure, enforced with stained glass windows and some lovely carved wooden panels at the alter.
The Christmas morning service was equally humble. There were probably a total of 15-20 people there. I kept thinking about the very beginnings of Christianity, when there must have been these small, grass-roots type churches, which bravely put on their services week after week, eventually winning large populations and dominating the European religious structure.
Of course, what is really going on now is a reversal. The churches are losing their congregations, as though reeling backwards in time, to eventually reach a complete disappearance. The mood in this little church was subdued, even though it was Christmas morning. The subdued mood was also part of the sermon, where in a delicate and sincere fashion the pastor reminded us that the extraordinary thing about Jesus' beginnings was how humble it was. This sermon fit the little church, and as all intelligent and religious pastors are able to do, actually put hope in this small, half empty place of worship. That from humble beginnings (or regressions) great things can happen.
Perhaps that will happen in Christianity. Perhaps all those missing congregants will suddenly become a force again, and rebuild their abandoned churches. I think, though, the resumption will be a long and painful process, with many closures and leases of church buildings (to Muslim these days). One cannot recharge a ruin just by turning back the clock. It is much harder to build than to destroy. One cannot step up from a congregation of 15 to one of 200 overnight.
But, there is indeed hope. In early December, a new Anglican Church of North America started a province in defiance of the current Episcopalian and Anglican churches in the US and Canada. This more traditional and conservative body promises to return Anglicanism to its former commitment to the Bible and the word of God. In a moment of despair, we have been given the most perfect Christmas gift of all. How can we not accept this as an answer to our prayers?
This, unfortunately, doesn't mean that I will return to St. James Cathedral. That diocese has made it clear which side of the divide it is on. But, it certainly means that I will be able to continue in the Anglican tradition that I have grown to love over the years.