Episcopalians Shaken by Division in Church

Watch for this article in the July 2, 2006 (weekend) edition of the New York Times.

Episcopalians Shaken by Division in Church
By LAURIE GOODSTEIN

Their parish, which celebrated its 150th anniversary last year, is solid and strong. It has 3,000 members, a historic stone building in good repair and a well-loved minister.

But to the Episcopalians at St. Luke's Parish in Darien, Conn., who gathered with their pastor to grapple with the past week's news about their denomination, it was as if their solid stone church had been struck by an earthquake.

To them and to many Episcopalians around the country, the long-vulnerable fault line running under the Episcopal Church had cracked wide open in one week. Six traditionalist dioceses and some individual parishes announced plans to break from the Episcopal Church because they could not live with a church that permits an openly gay bishop and ceremonies for same-sex unions.

In an opposing jolt, the Diocese of Newark named an openly gay priest as a candidate for its bishop, defying a plea for restraint just passed by a vote of the bishops and delegates at the Episcopal Church's triennial convention.

And the archbishop of Canterbury, the spiritual leader of the Anglican Communion, weighed in with a plan of seismic implications to ask all 38 regional churches in the Communion to agree to a covenant that could limit each church's autonomy. Those that do not agree could be given second-tier status in the Communion.

"So in other words," Martha Cook, a university professor and member of the vestry at St. Luke's, asked her pastor at the gathering, "the conservatives could literally take over our rightful spot in the Communion, and the majority of the American church would be on the outs?"

The pastor, the Rev. David R. Anderson, answered that while it was far from settled, "the scenario the traditionalists were seeking could actually come to pass."

"The vast majority of the Episcopal Church would be considered the 'off brand,' " Father Anderson said.

Bewildered conversations like this took place in many Episcopal parishes last week.

For parishes that identify with the right or the left pole on the issue of homosexuality, allegiances are clear. But the vast majority of parishes are somewhere in the middle, with members on each side of the debate who feel connected to the Episcopal Church and to Anglican tradition, said the Rev. William Sachs, a St. Luke's member who was recently named director of the new Center for Reconciliation and Mission at St. Stephen's Church in Richmond, Va.

"What's really going on in the pews of Episcopal churches is they don't necessarily want to align with either side," Father Sachs said. "They want to get on with life. They want this thing resolved."

The six dioceses that announced their intention to break away — Fort Worth, Pittsburgh, South Carolina, Central Florida, San Joaquin, Calif., and Springfield, Ill. — had long threatened to bolt, and they constitute a small minority of the Episcopal Church's 110 dioceses and 2.3 million members.

But what really rattled the pews was the "theological reflection" issued in London on Tuesday by the Most Rev. Rowan Williams, archbishop of Canterbury. He has written of his liberal views on homosexuality, but as primate of the Church of England, the "mother church" of the Anglican Communion, his primary task is finding a theologically justifiable route out of a seemingly irreconcilable conflict.

But some Episcopalians said they were shocked because the archbishop's statement came just six days after the Episcopal Church convention passed a resolution intended to mend fences with the Anglican Communion. The archbishop's statement raised the prospect of "ordered and mutually respectful separation" between churches that could not come to agreement, suggesting to many Episcopalians that they would eventually have to choose sides.

Donna Robinson, a parishioner at St. James Episcopal Church in Dallas, said: "Our church is kind of waiting to see what happens and trying to stay out of it until our backs are against the wall. I'm kind of dreading that part. I don't know what we'll do."

Frances Hart, a worshiper at St. Edwards Episcopal Church in Lawrenceville, Ga., said she had been e-mailing people and reading everything she could from each side.

"The middle, where I am, seems to be losing members," Ms. Hart said. "Quite frankly, I can't figure out why they can't get back to the middle."

Leaders of the Episcopal Church warned everyone not to jump to conclusions. They said it was possible for a covenant to be written broadly enough to encompass all sides, and for unity to be restored.

The Episcopal Church's presiding bishop, the Rev. Frank T. Griswold, said, "We must never forget that God can always surprise us."

The parishioners at St. Luke's met in a lounge hung with an oil portrait of a rector who served the church from 1863 to 1912. Everyone in the room was white, many white-haired — a group atypical in the context of the global Anglican Communion, in which the typical member is now black, young and living in Africa.

"I used to be Communion über alles," said Judy Holding, a student at Yale Divinity School and a chaplain at Greenwich Hospital, "but now I'm asking, at what price Communion?"

Ms. Holding said later: "At a certain point for me, it's not worth the price. I would not sign that covenant if it means we have to compromise Christian love and social justice."

Father Anderson asked how many in the room had even heard of the Anglican Communion before 2003, when Anglican archbishops in places like Nigeria and Uganda began protesting the election of an openly gay bishop in New Hampshire.

Only a third of the 30 parishioners in the room raised their hands.

David Kelley, whose parents were also St. Luke's members, told the gathering, "All this business of consulting with other churches in the Communion, I'm not aware of the African churches consulting with us."

But several St. Luke's members made it clear that they cherished their church's ties to the Anglican tradition. Charlie Barnett said: "I, for one, get a great deal of comfort knowing we are a part of a worldwide expression of Christianity. The Book of Common Prayer is very important to me."

This is true for many Episcopalians, said David Hein, chairman of the department of religion and philosophy at Hood College in Frederick, Md., and a co-author of "The Episcopalians."

"We want to be in communion with the see of Canterbury, because that's really the link with Anglican history and theology and spirituality," Professor Hein said. "It gave us Samuel Johnson and John Donne and the great theologian C. S. Lewis. The Anglican tradition is very much a trans-Atlantic phenomenon."

Father Anderson closed the gathering with a brief sketch of Anglican history. Queen Elizabeth gave the church the Book of Common Prayer, he told them, and the church came to be distinguished by its flexibility.

"We've never been bound by common belief, but by common prayer," he said. "Anglicans have always had a generous openness. I just feel that now there's a cold wind blowing. As someone here said tonight, it feels un-Anglican to me."

Brenda Goodman contributed reporting from Atlanta for this article, and Laura Griffin from Dallas.

Copyright 2006 The New York Times Company