Showing items filed under “The Rev. Canon Dr. Victor Lee Austin”

I Was Wrong

 These excerpts are from my recent essay on the Covenant blog of the Living Church.

    The late Bishop Paul Moore of New York liked to describe the Episcopal Church as “the Catholic Church with freedom.” In New York as in many places, the big church against which we Episcopalians defined ourselves was the Roman Catholic. The idea was that we were, at heart, truly a catholic church, and perhaps we were able, in some manner, to be more truly so than those we referred to as “the Romans.” . . .

    I came into the Episcopal Church during college, during the final years prior to the adoption of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer. The church’s proper name then was the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America. That word “Protestant” stuck in many an Episcopal craw, and the standard narrative was that we were really catholic, a church that had a particular history in England going back to St. Alban, the first martyr. That is (we would emphasize), Anglicanism did not start at the Reformation, which was in truth a rather regrettable period of history; and the way forward was to focus on and more explicitly recover our catholic heritage. Thus the movement to have Eucharist on every Sunday—a movement whose success is enshrined in our 1979 Prayer Book. . . . 

    I’m sure I’m not the only Episcopalian of a certain age who caught this spirit of the times. We said (and I believed) that the best of the Episcopal Church was its catholic heritage. Protestant elements in our heritage and in our worship were regrettable and should be minimized or ignored. We who were new clergy should seek to use incense whenever we could, to chant prayers often, and to do such other things as would accentuate the catholic side of Episcopalianism. True to this form, I got a thurible donated to the parish where I was a curate, and later a monstrance donated to the parish where I was a rector. . . .

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    I think it is true that the Episcopal Church has Catholic substance in it. But also I think I was wrong to put so much emphasis upon that. I no longer think Anglicanism is essentially an alternative version of Catholicism. Instead, it seems to me its own thing.

    Can we say what, positively, constitutes Anglicanism? It is not, in my opinion, the Eucharist, although that rite has always been essential to Anglicanism (along with baptism, it is understood to be necessary for salvation). Look instead to our rites of Morning and Evening Prayer. Here the genius or “charism” of Anglicanism is manifested in services that are uniquely “stereo” in our thinking, i.e., we read both Old and New Testaments, one lesson from each, morning and evening, day after day. . . .

    To say we are Protestant is to say: We do “protest” the truths of Christianity, “protest” in the positive sense of proclaiming them, affirming them, owning them—not least those truths that pertain to the comforting of a troubled soul. “Jesus has died for you” is not a manipulative sentence but a liberating one.

    Even as to confess the Christian faith (as in the creeds) leads also to the confession of sin, so the protestation of Christian truth leads to a personal affirmation that is liberating. I need no longer be trapped by my past, limited by my accomplishments, concerned over whether my resume is good enough. I need only—only!—recognize in me the sin of the world in my personal form. “Alas, my treason” we sing in passiontide: “Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee; I crucified thee.” Salvation is not in “vain” repetition of prayers or “multiplication” of masses or any other “works” of any character, but in the surrender of the heart to Jesus who intends to remake it a living heart, as prophesied by Jeremiah and Ezekiel, a heart that pumps in accordance with God’s own Spirit, a heart that will know from within itself (and thus delightedly live by) the law of God.

    We Anglicans need not be embarrassed by being Protestant. Yes, we need to claim being Catholic, but without making that our sole or over-arching identity. To my mind, today especially we need to recommit to daily Morning and Evening Prayer, with Old and New Testament readings heard in stereo and allowed to speak of themselves directly to the heart.

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    The entire essay “I Was Wrong” can be found here: https://covenant.livingchurch.org/2023/10/24/i-was-wrong/

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    Out & About. I am to preach for the “Remembrance Sunday” Eucharists at Bethesda Church in Saratoga Springs, N.Y.: Nov. 12 at 8 and 10 a.m.

    I will be teaching the Advent class at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas, on “An Adult Christ at Christmas.” The class will meet on Sundays at 10 a.m.: Nov. 26, Dec. 3, and Dec. 17. We are starting a week early and skipping Dec. 10 because of street closures for the Dallas marathon on Dec. 10.

    The next Good Books & Good Talk seminar will be on Shakespeare's King Lear on Sunday, November 26, at 5 p.m. at St. Matthew’s Cathedral. Anyone who reads (or watches) the play is welcome to join the conversation.

    You may register now for the Christian Ethics course at the Stanton Center, which will meet one Saturday per month (for three hours, generally on the third Saturday) from January through May. I will be teaching this course. It involves reading and writing before each class, but no exams or other papers. In-person discussion of the assigned texts is the backbone of the course. For more information, drop a line to Erica Laysenik,

All For Nothing

 Here’s a passage from Willa Cather’s 1927 novel about the first archbishop of New Mexico, Death Comes for the Archbishop. It is from the latter part of the life of Father Latour, the archbishop:

    “One night . . . he was lying in his bed, unable to sleep, with the sense of failure clutching at his heart. His prayers were empty words and brought him no refreshment. His soul had become a barren field. He had nothing within himself to give his priests or his people. His work seemed superficial, a house built upon the sands. His great diocese was still a heathen country. The Indians travelled their old road of fear and darkness, battling with evil omens and ancient shadows. The Mexicans were children who played with their religion.”

    Each sentence of that paragraph is a hammer-blow of sharp accusation. Point after point after point: everything has come to naught. I thought: this is where many of us find ourselves from time to time, tossed by demons of doubt through a sleepless night.

    He couldn’t stand it. He got up, got on his warm cloak (it was December), and went out through the snow to go to the sacristy, to go to the church.

There he found a woman, shivering, a Catholic who had slipped out from the home where she was a servant, denied permission to go to mass. He gave her his cloak. He ministered to her with an attentive ear. He was pleased with her remembrance of “the holy things,” despite it being nineteen years since she was in a church. They prayed together at length, on their knees. He heard her confession. He gave her a little silver medal “with a figure of the Virgin” to have safely with her.

    He had been in the pits, and God woke him up and showed him the truth of his life.

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    Readers Write. I have imaginative readers. After I wrote about the coincidence of the feast of St. Michael & All Angels with National Coffee Day, I learned (from one of you) that St. Gabriel, the archangel who appeared to Mary, is apparently concerned with Hatch green chile. Who knew? (Hatch green chile was, when I moved to college in New Mexico, just “chile,” and for decades it was impossible for us to find in New York. When I moved to Dallas and found it for sale in late summer at the grocers, well, I felt I had moved to the land of milk and honey. But little did I think Gabriel might be involved!)

    Another wrote that just to have a National Coffee Day could be a subversive move to reintroduce Christianity into our culture. I quote: “Morning Coffee is, for some, a cup of courage to help them face the day, to be not afraid. It's not hard to imagine an angel offering a cup to a frightened man as a gesture of peace and good will.” He went on: “angels do deliver quite strong wake-up calls when they appear. Morning and evening jolts!” But we could also think of the “cups” which we would “ask God to let pass from before us,” as does Jesus on the night before Good Friday. Obviously this was not a cup filled with coffee—unless we are talking about bad coffee, “in which case we should thank our guardian angel for doing such an exquisite job that something like bad coffee is our chief concern.”

    As I’ve said before, if you have good readers, your column just writes itself. Thanks to all of you who drop a note from time to time.

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    Out & About. This Sunday, October 15, at 5 p.m., I will offer the fall theology lecture in my role as diocesan theologian-in-residence, at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas. My topic is “Divine Distinctions.” There will be time for questions and then a reception.

    The next Good Book & Good Talk seminar will be on Shakespeare's King Lear on Sunday, November 26, at 5 p.m.

 

 

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The Rev. Canon Victor Lee Austin. Ph.D., is the Theologian-in-Residence for the diocese and is the author of several books including, "Friendship: The Heart of Being Human" and "A Post-Covid Catechesis.: