Having just returned from a week of continuing education and two weeks of vacation, I’m reminded of the first verse of John Keble’s (1792-1866) beautiful hymn: “New every morning is the love/our wakening and uprising prove/through sleep and darkness safely brought/restored to life and power and thought” (see The Hymnal 1982, Hymn #10). I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity to have a few weeks for a change of scenery in which both my mind, soul, and body were reinvigorated. Even at Low Mass this morning, I was reminded of how fresh everything seemed after being away for a time. Living, as I do, on campus, I find it immensely helpful to be offsite for a few weeks in the summer. This enables me to turn outwards, so to speak, and it also reminds me of what I appreciate the most about Good Shepherd. This is the importance of time for refreshment and retreat: we remember the vast newness of each moment of daily life and of God’s numerous blessings.
For the first week of my time away, I was in Oxford, UK, attending a theological conference at Pusey House, a notable center of formation and worship in the Anglo-Catholic tradition. At the “Restoring the Image” Conference, I heard nineteen theologians present papers on the topic of theological anthropology, exploring the multifaceted dimensions of the human person before God in Christ. What exactly is the image of God? Was the image once perfect, later tarnished, and then in need of being restored to perfection? Or was the image good but never perfect to begin with and simply yearning for its completion? These were some of the questions explored at the conference. Such occasions of theological enrichment are always humbling for me. I do believe, as the adage goes, that the more one learns, the most one realizes how much one doesn’t know. For me, this is an enticement to continue to learn and grow in theological reflection, to “love God with the mind," as one of my seminary professors used to say.
But another part of the humbling experience of theological formation is that one begins to understand how much we as Christians don’t know and will never know about God. This is partly what makes theological education so enjoyable, and it should keep us modest before God. For instance, in listening to three days’ worth of discussions on the image of God and the human person, one must admit that there’s no defining doctrine posited by the Church. It’s still very much an open discussion and a timely one, considering modern advances in technology and science and greater knowledge of the complexity of human beings and relationships. Many of the speakers at the conference maintained some reticence before the ambiguity of humanity; not all did, which was a further incentive for me to engage different—perhaps even offensive—viewpoints on certain topics with an open mind.
It seems to me that if one takes theology seriously and is well-read in it, one should be severely reluctant to venture forth into judging others as heretical or attempting to constrain too narrowly the limits of “orthodoxy.” Orthodoxy is ultimately about “right worship” or “right praise.” And as our Anglican tradition holds, lex orandi, lex credendi, roughly, “the law of praying is the law of believing.” It all begins with worship. We can never be lost only in our minds before God. We must return to prayer and worship. And lest we idolize any particular theologian or thinker, we should remember the limits and mystery of human finitude. The more I read from theologians over the centuries, the more I’m aware of how much theological diversity has been included within the Church’s definition of “orthodoxy.” Perhaps this was the greatest takeaway I had from this summer’s conference.
While in Oxford, I also had the privilege to preach on July 6 at St. Barnabas, Jericho, an Anglo-Catholic parish founded in the same year as Good Shepherd, 1869. (If you wish, you can read my sermon online.) I’m grateful to the kind invitation to preach by their vicar, Fr. Christopher Woods, who was a gracious host. As I mentioned in my message a few weeks ago, this connection between St. Barnabas and Good Shepherd was made by our parish Friend, the Rev. Dr. Sarah Coakley, with whom I was able to visit and who attends St. Barnabas when in Oxford. I was heartened to see the vibrancy of parish life at St. Barnabas, and it reminds me in many ways of Good Shepherd. There is a diversity of ages, a reverent thoughtfulness, and a warmth of spirit at St. Barnabas. I hope that Fr. Christopher will be able to visit Good Shepherd at some point in the future, and it would be a joy to welcome him into our pulpit.
I’m grateful for the support of the vestry and parish in sending me to the Oxford conference, and I’m sure that my learnings there will be invaluable in teaching and preaching. Thank you to all—staff, lay leaders, and our summer seminarian—who ensured that everything ran so smoothly while I was away. It’s a wonderful thing to be able to leave town for several weeks and not worry about the day-to-day functioning of the parish. As I said earlier, being away always makes me appreciate so many aspects of our life together in community at Good Shepherd. I’ve missed seeing all of you, and I will look forward to reconnecting this Sunday at Mass.
Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle