Cross-posted at Communion in Conflict

Kenneth Kearon, the Secretary-General of the Anglican Communion, has just published a follow-up to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Pentecost Letter. It has simply added kindling to the fire now blazing in the Anglican Communion and is generating genuine surprise and, in many corners of TEC, outrage — so much so that some progressives are even suggesting that TEC should withhold funds from the Anglican Communion, a tactic that most of these same progressives have, if memory serves, argued against when traditionalists have withheld funds from TEC. I am hopeful that cooler heads will prevail and that someone will remember the Golden Rule — and follow it! — but one never knows nowadays.

Which brings me to the title of my post: Years ago, an Episcopal priest who is also a psychologist and therapist shared with me an aphorism that has become central to my ministry, and indeed, to my ecclesiology. He said, “you can be right, or you can be in relationship.” At first, I rebelled against that notion — too bumper sticker, for one. And isn’t it sometimes better to be right than in relationship? But after mulling over that question, I could only answer: Only if being right were more important than being in relationship. And then I tried to think of instances where that would be true. While there certainly may be such situations, when it came to living out my faith, I found that if the center of my discipleship is communion with God and each other through Christ, then being right was only as good as the relationships of communion that my own or others’ rightness fostered.

Some time ago, I explicated this aphorism in a set of “RR Theses” (for “Right/Relationship”). (That earlier post and the challenging comments it generated may be found here.) Now would be a good time for a refresher, I think:

RR1. Just because I think (some) people are (in some cases dead or even dangerously) wrong doesn’t mean I can’t be in relationship with them.

RR2. The type of relationship I can be in with people who are different from me (and whom I am convinced are wrong) will be influenced by how wrong we view each other to be, but it does not have to be determined by this fact.

RR3. To claim that I cannot be in relationship with you because you are wrong (or vice versa) is an act of will, not a statement of fact. In point of fact, in many cases, the choice of my rightness over being in relationship with you will turn out to be a sinful choice.

RR4. The choice of my own rightness over relationship is sinful because it idolizes my own understanding and sets it up as the measure of all things. It leads too often to self-righteousness.

RR5. The choice to be right rather than in relationship may also reduce the ontological value of whatever it is that I hold to be right. That is, the purpose of “being right” is so that one can witness to the Truth within the context of relationships with those who (like me) are not yet fully dwelling in the Truth as it is in Christ.

RR6. The choice to be in relationship with others — all others — is not the same as being “in communion” with them, though it is a step toward accepting the gift of communion that comes from above.

RR7. If we think of communion as existing only where there is agreement, we will be willfully excluding ourselves from participating more deeply in the gift of communion that God makes possible through our common baptism into Christ.

RR8. Every time we choose to be right instead of being in relationship, we refuse the riskiness of communion.

RR9. Communion — true communion with God and each other in Christ — is an awesome and dreadful thing, precisely because it establishes relationships not of our own choosing, and demands a kenosis that is deeply at odds with our self-centered, fallen tendencies.

RR10. Kenosis often begins with listening.

These are some of the foundational assumptions I return to time and again when faced with conflict. It makes me realize how even my most charitable posts fall short of the mark, in that in my desire to prove myself right (or clever, or good, or holy, or reasonable, or whatever), I all too easily fall into the trap of putting my own rightness over relationship and close myself off to others, or create stumbling blocks that keep others from wanting to pursue authentic relationship, whether with me, others, the Church, and/or God. To the extent that my last post, for instance, unnecessarily stirred up the all-too-real pain that people on all sides of this issue experience daily, please accept my apologies. At the same time, I hope that readers will admit that in an open, honest, dialogue, pain is inevitable, and we must all take personal responsibility for how much pain we individually and collectively can tolerate, and when it is intolerable, remove ourselves from that source unless or until such time as we can re-engage (without, however, creating an emotional cut-off that permanently excludes the possibility of future reconciliation and relationship).

That said, I have a brilliant post in mind about how the two Pentecost letters display dueling metanarratives and how part of our problem is that we don’t recognize the downside of the metanarratives we favor, or the degree to which metanarratives at odds with each other actually overlap in their ability to tell truths about reality (a sort of Venn diagram comes to mind here, with truth existing in the intersections of metanarratives, such as “oppressed versus oppressor” and “rebellion versus accountability”). Surely someone has already figured this all out and written a tome (or at least a doctoral dissertation) on this topic, and if you know who has, please post a comment with bibliographical details! For now I will only summarize one of my conclusions: beware those metanarratives that are most convenient and lead to our feeling the most self-righteous and vindicated.

Finally, an observation about a subtle but essential shift in terminology employed in the archbishop’s and secretary-general’s missives: In previous iterations of possible “consequences,” Rowan Williams and others have speculated about the utility of reducing the participation of troublemaking provinces (such as TEC and the Southern Cone) in the Anglican Communion from full member status to “observer” status. I believe that was the term applied to TEC representatives to the ACC following Bp. Robinson’s consecration. This term has been replaced by “consultant.” Consultant is a much more relationally rich term than “observer.” It also accords a greater respect than “observer,” which is passive and powerless by definition. By contrast, a “consultant” is invited — even sought after, perhaps — to share her views and to advocate for her cause. A “consultant” does not have the power to make decisions except insofar as the consultant’s advice is heeded. A “consultant” thus is given the job of learning how to speak so others can hear. It is a worthy vocation for a servant-leader. If the leadership of TEC is wise, it will embrace its newfound vocation wholeheartedly, in a kenotic Spirit.