Many in the Indie movement are converts – indeed there are few of us who have had a “genetic” link to it if you will from previous generations in our family. I have on previous occasions talked about how difficult it can be for people to make the transition from a large “powerful” and well financed “church” to a tiny, dirt poor, anonymous Indie community. It is hard – for many it is very hard indeed. Your heart says “This is where I belong.”; but your conditioning says “This is just not quite right.”

I think that the place to start addressing this is not on an “institutional” level – but on a personal level, on a relational level within the life of the fellowship of believers – and the way to do this is to change our story.

Take for example a few simple very simple visuals. Your community does a benediction of the sacrament – why? Your bishop is never seen without a red sash, zucchetto and episcopal ring – why? You say the rosary, or have icons in the house – why? Your priest wears a collar, or riasa – why? When you receive communion in your community it comes as a disc shaped bone white wafer – why? These are only a few of a hundred different simple, everyday things that when we go to mass or liturgy, or when we do something devotional of an individual nature we take for granted, we “assume” them – why? More importantly what about the not so simple “ideas” and more substantive praxis that again we “assume” or take for granted – why? The question is not a challenge, it is, but not in the sense of challenging your choice. The question is a challenge to reflect on the very important story behind the activity.

Why?

I have heard it many times from people within the Indie community when you ask what attracted them to the OC/IC movement. You can boil most answers (even the angry reactionary ones) down to a simple idea. I wanted a fresh start.

So, here is my question – and this one is a challenge – if you come seeking a fresh start, why is it that you still do all the things you used to do? One possible answer is that it is what “catholics” do – also known as “this is what we have always done”. But if you came into the Indie movement seeking a fresh start then would it not be a really helpful exercise to sit down and walk through your personal religious story and ask some questions about “what I do as a “catholic”” and compare that to – what I can do as a “new” Sacramental Christian – an indie believer?

Here’s the reality though – and this too is borne out by many years of observation. It is very hard to change the story. It is very hard to challenge the story. Why? Largely because of conditioning. We are conditioned to understand and perceive that the “catholic” story functions this way, or that way, it includes these symbols, but not those symbols. And here’s where it becomes very personal – aware of our conditioning, we find that while it is certainly true that we really want to take advantage of the opportunity to have a fresh start – we often don’t because “catholics don’t do it that way”.

We are approaching the end of Lent looking forward to Pascha – the death and resurrection of the Incarnate Logos. Christ’s life and teaching is an example of radically changing the story, of asking questions about “the way we’ve always done it”, and coming up with very different answers. Through his death and resurrection we are liberated from the old story, and given an opportunity to reflect, and reshape our story – as individuals of faith, and as communities of faith.

So, now, what can we do to change the story?

“Don’t you think that Jesus is the solution to the problems in the Middle East – that it is only through him that peace will come to the region?”

This is a question posed to me by a door-to-door evangelist a few years ago. It is a question that irritated me at the time, and has remained with me ever since. It is a question, which to my mind, cuts to the very heart of our theology of the incarnation, our role in it, and how we have somehow, over time, surrendered that role.

We Christians describe the person of Christ as “God and Man”, “God with us”. The Patristic writers describe the process of the incarnation as one that required the cooperation both of God and of Man. At the very core of our understanding of the nature and mechanics of the incarnation is the idea that we humans had a function and a responsibility in the process of redemption, and the outcome of salvation. But somewhere along the way – I’m not sure where – we surrendered our active role in this very important process and became passive observers, fatalists. If God wills it, it will happen.

There is another problem with this all too pervasive model – Christianity focuses on the relationship between God and man, and in the context of our sacramental Christian tradition, the relationships shared between people. So if we have surrendered our role and function – our responsibility – in the ongoing process of realising the fullness of salvation, then this essential relationship is broken. That should be a very uncomfortable realisation for all of us.

A consequence of the broken relationship is that the “conversation” is over and all that is left is to obey, or to become a meek, hopeful supplicant. Since many who have joined or converted to the Independent Catholic life, did so in part because they rebelled against “un-thinking Christianity”. That is to be “told” to accept and obey the teachings and decisions from the hierarchy without question – wondering if there might not be a better way to conceptualise, even realise the significance of the idea within the life of the community.

In this broken model there are no active believers, no “Christians” there are only followers, numbers, bums on seats passively absorbing the dictums of an “elect” few. Here, it is easy to see how our broken relationship with God has seeped into our relationships with our “community” and its constituents. With this model – all catholicity is lost because only the hierarchy is in a position to actually do anything. The fullness of the “body of Christ” is not realised – the talents and effort of each constituent member goes uncultivated, uninvited.

The grace of baptism is the gift of empowerment to be participants in the conversation, to initiate creative theology and praxis, to relate both to God (who through the incarnation underwent the most extraordinary expression of his desire to be in relation with us) and one another. In our OC/IC context we are blessed with small communities, and if you’re lucky a decentralised hierarchy where the bishop is a teacher, a guide, a fellow sojourner, one who points the way and serves as a point of reference and unity rather than a “monarch” or “magestrate”. This ecclesiology allows for the community to develop a voice in conversation, and to become a voice in the greater conversation with God. When everyone in the community can sit down at table, share a meal, and explore an issue – be creatively engaged with our theology and come out at the other end with a renewed sense of praxis – then we are active Christians faithful to our underlying belief in the incarnation.

My response to the poor evangelist standing at my door was to point out that no, we humans are responsible for the suffering in the Middle East because we have surrendered our baptismal role in working together, and with God to bring about a fair and just resolution. I’m afraid they went away surprised that someone would talk with them – and  perhaps regretting it.

This essay by Giles Fraser of the Guardian was very enjoyable. Not only does he raise the interesting question about how people percieve the theology of the Incarnation, but he also draws in some interesting elements about current approaches to theology generally.

As we are approaching the feast of the Nativity how do you understand the Incarnation? What does it bring to your experience, or practice of the faith?

If you’ve been following my Theo-Twitter stream you’ll no doubt know that I’ve been puzzling over the Western idea of “merit” in relation to salvation for the past week or so. My interest was perked while reading a little book that summarises Western Christian history through the various “crisis” that have brought about change in its history – a neat premise I thought. The book is a bit overly simplistic but had some interesting “factoids” that made me sit and think a bit – this was one of them. It seems that Anselm of Canturbury argued that the “mechanics” of salvation are based on the fact that Christ through his death and resurrection earned über-merit and now distributes that “merit” to believers as he chooses.

I wondered if “merit” was still a part of the theology of other communities and did a bit of reading – and yup – there it is, in one place or another, in one form or another . . . but it seems to me – and this is just at a cursury reading – that this idea is . . . well . . . apalling! As I say, I’m still reading up on this – it is so foreign to my understanding of the “mechanics” of salvation that I’m having to start from scratch so anyone willing to fill in my knowledge gap is certainly invited to speak up.

Huw has also been thinking about “merit” albeit in a slightly different context and has written a really helpful post on the topic here. After I get my head around this idea a bit more I’ll post on it too – but in the mean time go visit Huw, and if you have some ideas and pointers on this – please, post a comment or two there, and here.