Thanks to Siobhan, we’ve got this rather neat article on indie folk in CO.

Matthias was chosen by lot to replace Judas (Acts 1.15-26). The use of “lots” to discern the will of God was an ancient practice – see for example the numerous references to the Urim and Thummim in the Old Testament; and not exclusive to Judaism or early Christianity.

What is interesting in the narrative of Matthias’ selection are Peter’s comments about the process. First candidates are selected and “offered” by the community – these men were to have been a part of the mission and ministry from the beginning “from the baptism of John until the day on which he [Christ] was taken up from us” (Acts 1.22). These individuals were to become a living witness of christ’s resurrection (and presumably the teaching that explained or justified his death and resurrection) – thus they could speak with authority, teach with confidence, and be trusted by all because of their having “been there” from the beginning. The community chose their candidates: Barsabbas, and Matthias.

Peter then prayed: “You, Lord who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two you have chosen” (Acts 1.24). Barsabbas and Matthias were given lots and the “lot fell upon Matthias, and he was counted with the eleven” (Acts 1.26).

“God and Man together” – this is an ancient axiom which underpins so much of our theology. Without it we would suffer from fatalism, and the heresy of pre-destination – “free will” would be meaningless, and praxis both of spiritual disciplines aimed at realising theosis, and the living out of the teachings of Christ would be carried out in vain.

The selection of Matthias is both an example of the “process” of human and divine cooperation – of discernment. It is also an approach to choosing candidates for office in our communities that is well worth considering in our indie context – where too many are ordained and consecrated with only the first half of the process (man) and not the second (divine action/inspiration) having been considered.

The ecumenical councils are thought to express the will of the Spirit because of the unanimity of the council – having debated (fought) over the points at hand for days even weeks until arriving at a concensus. The Copts until the 1950s chose (I’m not sure if they still do) the Patriarch by lot from selected candidates. The early custom of “mob ordination” where the congregation sets upon a candidate spontaneously is another example of this process in action. Thus, it is not unreasonable for us to expect that the normal practice in our commiunities ought to embody this ideal of discernment, process, and “God and Man together”.

Today we commemorate the deacons Prochor, Nicanor, Timon, and Parmenas mentioned in Acts 6.5. They were chosen by the community to serve the social ministry needs of the community so that the Disciples could maintain their focus on teaching and study. According to tradition two became bishops (Prochor and Timon), the other two – it appears (but don’t hold me to this) remained deacons. Timon and Nicanor were both martyred – the first was stoned to death in Jerusalem, the other was burned alive by Pagans in Arabia.

Some years ago I attened a conference in Baltimore on the development of, and resurgence of the diaconate. One of the things that really struck me over the course of the day long gathering was how in many ways the modern diaconate had lost its way – becoming little more than a stepping stone to the priesthood. The attendees were keen to see something done about this – to restore this ancient order. At the time as well many of the liturgical churches were undergoing a renaissance and re-examination of the diaconate – it was fun to see it happening, and to visit with people from various traditions who might best be described as “diaconal activists”.

One of the things I realised both through my participation in the conference, and through the reading I did around that time is that we indie folk have an advantage. Whereas many of the “Big Tent” churches desire to re-invigorate this ancient service order – they find it difficult because of existing attitudes, rules, and accumulated customs surrounding it. There is an “expectation” in many cases that the person will only be a deacon for a limited time. We dont have the weight of Tradition bearing down on us in the same way that other communities do – which gives us a real opportunity to institute unhindered some of the great ideas that came out of this period in the early ’90s. Namely – to stop treating the diaconate like it is a stepping stone to the priesthood – make it a permanant order.

I’d like to know what – if anything – other indie communities are doing about the diaconate. Our community has made an effort to restore it to a fuller expression of “catholic-ness” (see some of my earlier posts to understand my term use here) by making it a permanent order.

To be sure this raises some interesting questions about history, and the development of the “transitional” diaconate. Why is it that by the 19th century candidates for ordination were successively ordained through the minor orders, the diaconate, and the preisthood – rather than directly to their order? Has anyone seen any research on this? To my knowledge there is no theological reason not to ordain directly to the order – if we accept that the charism is complete at the time of installation rather than having to be augmented.

“Liberal” churches may be sabotaging themselves by reducing the commitment of their members – so suggests a recent report in New Scientist. The persecution of early Christians may have had a dramatic effect on the spread of Christianity because the sacrifices of martyrs and confessors instilled in others the idea of sincerity: “few would willingly give their life for an ideal they did not believe in”.

Once people believe they are more likely to undertake or endure similar displays of committment. Through a mathematical model, the study suggests that this becomes a “self-reinforcing loop” enabling the belief system to persist over time.

The suggestion is that communities that expect a higher level of committment as displayed through particular behaviour endure and grow whereas those communities which do not eventually dissipate. Comparing liberal Protestant churches and fundamentalist Protestant churches appears to prove the point.

How is this relevant to OC/IC communities?

I dare say that today there might be a few confessors out there, but not too many martyrs. So lets look at the effects of more down to earth forms of “costly sacrifices”.

The study suggests that acts of sacrifice, or self-denial/renunciation by religious leaders has a stronger overall impact on the commitment of others. So, how many of our OC/IC leaders and clergy are regularly participating in the life and community of other churches? From the stand point of a visitor/observer/participant – if my local indie bishop, priest or lay leader is heavily involved in another tradition then this indie thing must not be worth my own personal investment.

This opens the door to the next question, assume our leaders are setting the example, are we doing enough to cultivate, and encourage “membership” through the right of chrismation? That is to say – if our leaders have “sacrificed” the (false) safety net of another church, then are we also encouraging the same within the community as a whole? In short are we actively giving people a reason to give a confident “yes” to the OC/IC way of life, and be willing to whole heartedly throw in their lot with us?

Keeping in mind the above two points, how might the common practice of open communion affect committment to, identification with our OC/IC communities?

Finally, in our history can we point to as an exemplar of commitment to the OC/IC ideal? I can think of a few, such as Varlet and Ofiesh, how about you?

Two weeks ago we started a discussion on the security and symbolism of “the collar” this lead to some interesting discussion on not only the use of the collar but also the use (in our movement) of inflated clerical titles (see the great posts on this over at John’s, Tim’s and David Kling’s). The emphasis thus far has been on clericalism – but what about a more general exploration of symbols of faith?

Yesterday’s Guardian had an article about a Sikh schoolgirl being excluded from school because she wore the Kara, an iron bangle that reminds devout Sikhs of their duty not to sin. The symbolism is wonderful – a sinful act is often committed with the hands, thus the Kara is the last thing one sees before acting upon a sinful idea; a moment of reflection, a stepping back from the brink.

This is not an isolated occasion – indeed there have been a whole raft of reported instances, across the spectrum of faith in the past couple years when individuals have been expelled, fired, or suspended. A 15 year old Muslim girl lost her battle to wear a jilbab to class, a 16 year old Christian girl lost a high court battle because she refused to remove a “purity” ring, Jack Straw one of our better MP’s recently caused consternation when he asked a Muslim woman visiting his constituency office to not wear a full veil, BA last year found itself embroiled in controversy when a Christian woman was suspended for wearing a cross (a breech of their official uniform code which was clearly not consistently enforced) – at the same time Sikh men and muslim women are allowed turbans and hijabs respectively. France, in 2003, banned all religious symbols from public schools – hijab, cross, turban everything – it caused an uproar across Europe that focussed largely on the Muslim community.

We clearly live in a time of increasing extremism – “Christian” extremists in the US attempting to re-write both history and the Constitution to create a “Christian” theocracy; Muslim extremists in the UK attempting to introduce Sharia law and bring about a renewed Caliphate, not in the Middle East but in Bradford, London, and Leicester. Atheist extremists – like Richard Dawkins assaulting the integrity of people of faith across the spectrum of faith; and secularism run amok in places the like the US, where the separation of Church and State has become a clarion call for the eradication of all expressions of faith outside the privacy of one’s home.

Radicalism is having a subtle negative effect not only on free religious discourse and expression but also on our idea of civil society – where a free flowing exchange of sometimes opposing ideas is an integral part of building an engaged and rich community.

Our OC/IC community is not immune to the radicalism sweeping society as a whole. Many of the newer jurisdictions have emerged as a reaction against the liberal/conservative divide in their “home” traditions. I cannot help but ask if this is really representing our heritage well (while at the same time admitting that some of these newer jurisdictions – while enjoying the benefit of our apostolic heritage, will have nothing to do with us, and are sometimes quite hostile towards us)?

One of the spin off conversations of the post on the collar has been to look at how our clergy employ titles. Here we have a real problem in our community of individuals using grand titles to pump up their own egos – my own take on this has been that these folks need to be encouraged to step back and look at what they are doing to our tradition, and their reputation, and if they won’t we owe it to ourselves and our community to not engage with them, to not take them seriously, and to openly acknowledge that they do not represent the best that our movement has to offer. I also believe that it is in our best interests to make it increasingly difficult for individuals such as this to find a path to ordination in the first place (sorry John, this is a big drawback to the “free priesthood” ideal). Setting aside that group of individuals who use grand and empty titles to puff themselves up – looking instead at the rest: It seems to me that many of these are radical conservatives holding romantic ideas about the function of “the Church” and her clergy in the 19th century and earlier – thus the coats of arms, and fluffy titles are woven into an ideal of a return to the good ole’ days. Strange – in the “good ole’ days” we OC/IC folk were condemned because of our modernism, and “radical” liberalism – our fight for the free exchange of ideas, and the education of the laity got us into a lot of trouble!

When we opened the conversation about the collar two weeks ago it was inspired by reports that a security advisor for the Church of England suggested that for their own personal safety clergy not wear the collar outside official functions. Does the wearing of hijab, a turban, a Kara, a yarmulke, or a cross also heighten the security risk? The Church of England report noted that clergy are no longer a “protected class” the taboo of assaulting a priest is gone. We talked a bit about this last week in the post – but in light of the wider issue I wonder how others interpret the collar compared to the hijab, the turban, or yarmulke? It is I think, an unpleasant thought but I wonder, has “the Church” lost so much good will and damaged its reputation such that in the eyes of the public a priest wearing a collar is seen as much an object of derision as a woman wearing a chador, or a man with a full beard?

What are these marks of faith saying about the individuals who wear them? What do they believe they are saying? Many here in Europe, for example, view the hijab, chador, and jilbal with suspicion – interpreting it not as an act of modesty but as an act of defiance, of setting one’s self apart from the rest of society, of isolation, and even judgement. True – there appears to be an increased take-up of the veil by young muslim women in Europe, and yes it is in some cases an expressed act of defiance against real and perceived anti-muslim popular feeling; but I find it hard to accept that that is all there is to it. Is the monastic habit seen in the same light? No, rather it is a harmless oddity, a bit of strangeness, even comic relief. With the increase of extremism across the board symbols that were once largely interpreted within the context of that specific community are now taking on new meanings – largely geared towards an outside audience.

It is interesting that in our Christian context only the clergy have a clearly distinctive form of dress. Wearing a cross, either as a pin, a necklace, or an embroidered patch, by members of the community is not as striking or visible as the collar, the monastic veil, a habit or a wimple. What is more the cross has now become a cultural icon, no longer the exclusive mark of faithfulness but employed in fashion and media without reference to Christ’s passion and resurrection. Few OC/IC clergy wear a beard for example – and even if they did, without the collar or the habit to go with it, an observer would not give a second glance. Religious leaders and community members of Islam, Hinduism, Judaism and Sikhism all have very striking, distinctive attire that instantly “tags” the wearer as a member of that community. These faiths emerged in places where one faith was not the norm – Christianity, however, has until recently, enjoyed a near monopoly in Europe and the Americas – thus, the need to identify fellow Christians in a crowd was not essential, nearly everyone was (we ought not to forget that in many European cities that had a Jewish community – they were forced to wear distinctive items of clothing) – being able to find a priest however, was probably quite useful.

What are the marks of our faith? Our women do not wear the veil. Our men do not grow beards as a matter of faith or tradition. The cross is no longer a guarantee that the wearer is a believer. Only our clergy are typically distinctive in dress. If we accept that our clergy are public office holders – what then of the rest of us? In baptism we are “clothed” in Christ; in centuries past the newly baptised wore their white baptismal robe for eight days and then set it aside until their funeral. I opened this post with the Guardian report about the young Sikh excluded from school because she wore a symbol of her faith – a symbol which served a function for her, but which also identified her as a member of that community. One of my favourite daily prayers asks for the wisdom and foresight to act, and speak in such a fashion as to not be the cause of shame or embarrassment to our faith; in this time of increasing extremism ought we not consider the possibility of our OC/IC folk wearing some small token of our faith one that reminds us that we are a representative of our tradition, a tradition that historically places a great value on the free exchange of ideas, and tells others of our shared pride in our heritage?

The other day when we were discussing the symbolism of “the collar” John asked: “Is priesthood always a public office? I’ll give you that historically that has been the case most of the time….. but what about monastic priests (e.g. Carthusians) with no public ministry? Or hermit priests in the desert or on Mt Athos?”

At the time I answered quickly “yes the priesthood is absolutely a public office” and promised to explain myself more fully later. I’ve been playing with this now for a few days it will take a few postings but I’m going to begin an attempt at an explanation. This is not a systematic approach and is in no particular order – this by way of asking for your patience whilst I hap-hazardly cobble my thoughts together.

John’s example of monks is interesting. Asceticism is first and foremost an individual spiritual discipline. The ascetic withdraws from “the World” to persue a life dedicated to transcendence. This is a private, personalised discipline that was quickly drawn into the “public” life of the church in a number of ways.

Individuals, for various reasons relating to the spiritual life, sought out the ascetics, drawing them away from their isolation into the life of the community. Asceticism then evolves to take on the character of a teaching office. Famous examples include St. Antony who lived in solitude for twenty years (I think that’s right) before returning to teach others how to benefit from what he learned. The “private” evolved and became very “public”.

Athanasius, Gregory of Nazianzen, Chrysostom, Jerome and others presented the life and discipline of the ascetic as examples for emulation. These “living martyrs” bore witness to the truth of the Gospel, and the benefits of philosophy. A community that was surrounded by ascetics, and which had a cadre of virgins dwelling among them, was a blessed and protected community. These individuals, practicing a very individualised spirituality became the first line of spiritual (and physical) defence for the community of believers. Their “private” life of prayer and discipline – was now VERY “public”.

Christianity is, in its essence an explicitly corporate, communal, public, faith tradition. This is one reason why classical and neo-gnosticism, and New Age teaching are in some respects anti-thetical to the Christian tradition.

Athonite and Carthusian monks do provide a “public” ministry because their life and example are known to be a part of the life of the “whole” body of the community of believers in their particular tradition. These individuals have withdrawn from “the World” but have not left what St. Athanasius calls the “civic life” i.e. the life, cycles, customs, and vision of the community of believers.

Fr. Chris over at Even the Devils Believe and my partner pointed me in the direction of the following two reports in the Telegraph, and on the BBC.

I found that reading the media reports annoyed me – aside from reporting errors – the Telegraph for example asserts that the author of the report Nick Tolson, claims that “there would be no attacks on clergy if they heeded the advice” when in fact Mr. Tolson clearly and repeatedly states the opposite – that there is nothing that can totally eliminate the risk, but there are wise steps one can take to greatly reduce the probability of being attacked because you are viewed as an easy target (i.e. a clergy person). There was the assumption in these reports that we are somehow a class exempt from the daily experiences of the society around us. There was no acknowledgement for example of the fact that, at least here in the UK, we live in an increasingly un-civil society, and that the natural corrolary of this is a rise in violence generally – let alone a breakdown in unspoken taboos of an earlier era. It may merely be the case that the effect on clergy is what I think biologists and ecologists call “an indicator species” – pointing to the general trend, or effect of a particular set of circumstances.

If you have not already done so I do recommend reading the material, and the report itself which is in PDF format here. While there are a number of suggestions that do not apply in our OC/IC context – others are good tips to be aware of.

The value of our clergy wearing “the collar” is, I think an interesting conversation and one worth having. One thing I did find in reading the media reports that did ruffle my feathers is the impression that clergy can somehow hold their office at some point in the day, and not in others, and that this “switch” is signaled by the absence or presence of “the collar”. I have seen many good clergy use the symbolism of “the collar” for fantastic purposes in ministry – but never have I witnessed them doing so to say “I’m off duty” or “priestly time is up for today – come back another time”; to my mind the phrase “you are a priest forever” means just that. It means that we have to be creative in the ways in which we live out priesthood – finding ways to be a priest in the most unexpected settings and situations.

Some have argued that wearing the collar makes them more conscious of their duty – they’re under a greater degree of scrutiny because of it. I can see how this would work. But I can also see how this is a pitfall – setting a bad example to others who are not ordained, suggesting that it is somehow possible for all baptised people to become anonymous, and hide or shirk from their religious duty as believers precisely because there is nothing overtly signalling to observers that they are “Christian” and therfore have a particular set of ideals, values, and expected behaviours. In baptism, we are all “clothed according to the rank of Melkizedek” (St. Proklos Hom. 1.3) we should therefore not require the aid of a particular item of clothing to fulfill our religious duty! Perhaps we all ought to imagine ourselves wearing a collar so as to cultivate a better sense of identity as believers in Christ clothed according to the rank of Melkizedek.

Others have argued that wearing “the collar” is an act of witness. True – but I wonder, witness to what? I confess I’ve struggled with this particular argument for years. When I see clergy in public often it is not an example I want to follow; cold, aloof, sanctimonius, cowerdly, afraid, untouchable – these are the “first impressions” that are often conveyed. If you think I’m exaggertaing then let three examples sit with you for a moment. Here in the UK you very rarely see Anglican or Roman clergy on public transport – the place where the people are. When you do, they huddle together and scowel at their fellow man. You do however, see orthodox clergy. On the few occasions when I’ve worn “the collar” on public transport – even on a very crowded train, I get nearly a metre of space around me in any direction, and my fellow passengers cautiously, suspiciously, watch me from out of the corner of their eye (I don’t think I’m that ugly – but maybe its because I smile?). Finally, I was in Liverpool last year, at a church function, so I was wearing “the collar” and among the comments of passers by one has stuck with me: “You NEVER see them out in public.” The collar is only an effective “witness” if the countenance, speech, and actions of the one wearing it follow through. It does not speak for itself – it must be interpreted, and many people interpret it in a negative light.

What is more we OC/IC folk have an image problem in relation to “the collar” – there are too many of our “clergy” who wear it to display, and assert their “status” rather than to serve. So when we do wear it for all the right reasons, in all the right settings, we find that it is not uncommon that we have to be a true witness to our tradition, and correct the bad example of those who have come before us.

I wonder if the collar ought to be seen as a tool of witness – should we not instead cultivate a culture in our OC/IC communities of everyone’s participation in living the Gospel, and therefore that we are all, as baptised believers, a witness to the teaching and example of Christ? If I assert that “the collar” is a tool of witness does this not suggest that only I an ordained person can truely be an effective confessor of the faith?

Clothing is a mark – it communicates an enormous amount of silent information about the wearer – its use in this fashion, both consciously and unconsciously has not changed in centuries, though the styles used certainly have. Unfortunately there is no escaping the fact that to wear “the collar” makes a very loud statement about the status and position of the individual wearing it; today it seems that that statement is both unwelcome, and can be mis-interpreted (even when we think we are making a totally different comment).

Because clothing is a mark – “the collar” does facilitate ministry in difficult situations – I’ve expereinced it over and over again, that “the collar” gains me access to places, people, and situations that are instantly barred to others. This means that I’m able to be of use, to help in ways that others are not. This fact cannot be denied, but does it justify entirely the use of the collar? Protestant ministers don’t seem to have a difficulty – though I do know that some, who normally would not, will wear a collar at times for this very reason.

Do I feel more or less safe when wearing a collar – to be honest I don’t notice a difference. I do find that wearing a collar makes me more self consicous and sometimes I wonder if it may actually affect my ability to be of service in a negative way – this could merely be a matter of personal style – because of my theology of baptism and the priesthood.

Some years ago, I took a course at VTS on the Theology of Priesthood. The bulk of the course focussed on OT and NT sources before exploring possibilities for the life of the church today. It was a great class. The professor, a Presbyterian elder & theologian, shared his belief that one day there woudl be no clergy, and probably no large congregations, but a group of people gathered in someone’s living room, and when the moment arrives to celebrate the eucharist the host(ess) would prepare a table, and there celebrate. This was my first serious exploration of ideas woven around the idea of a priestless society of believers.

Interstingly last night, while visiting with someone after conducting an interview for the Archive I was asked what I thought of a priestless OC/IC community? There is a span of over a decade between these two occasions but throughout the intervening period I’ve had more than one occasion to play with this idea with others. Often, its a member of the community raising the question – wondering outloud if it would be possible, and how it would affect our theology.

I think it is a very interesting question, not because I support the idea – I do not – but because it makes us sit down together as a community and expore our understanding of the role of the four fold order, the theology of ordained ministry, and finally, our theology of the sacraments.

I’ve not thought out all of the possibilities – it is afterall a speculation, a bit of theological play intended to shake things about and see what falls through the sifter that might be a real gem of discovery.

In no particular order I offer some of my own questions:

What is the role of Apostolic Succession here? If we assert that the priest is the one who secures it for the community does this not affect the efficacy of all sacraments where there is no priest present? Does this not also make a statement about the disparity between the ordained orders and the order of the laity?

What is the role of the clergy in our communities (at least those communities not attempting to replicate Rome, Canterbury, or Constantinople minus a few inconvenient dogmas)? Freed from the expectations of particular institutional models does this not give us an opportunity to revitilise the role of ordained ministry? How are we doing it already? What might be lost if we were to cultivate priestless societies within our OC/IC movement?

What is the pastoral effect on people – their visceral, undefined response to a priestless eucharist? Would this impede our ability to effectively communicate our message, and be agents of grace for others, for one another?

These are only a few of my questions. I would be intersted to read your responses, and to see the questions you raise.

There’s a very interesting discussion arising in a number of places including: Fr. Chris’ , Pastor Bob Cornwall’s, and “EcuBishop”’s blogs about the appropriatness of religious figures endorsing, or being seen to endorse political candidates.

Hmmm . . . . I’ve been thinking about this for the past day now, and I must confess I’ve never been comfortable when I’ve seen religious figures getting too close to, or worse – publically endorsing a politician.

My starting point here is not with the “politics” of it all – though I do firmly believe that it is our civic duty to participate in the political process wherever we live, just as I believe that we ought to participate fully in the life of our chosen faith community and its tradition. Rather my starting point is . . . I think. . . . vaguely theological, and largely ecclesiological (I’m not 100% certain that I’ve thought it through enough yet to fully associate it within these two categories).

First, with a nod to Bp. Tim Cravens whose comment over at Fr. Chris’ place resonated strongly with me – I’d like to take a moment and reflect on the fact that once ordained – regardless, I would like to think, of one’s particular tradition, you are no longer as “private” as you once were. As a bishop, I know that there is never a moment when I do not represent my faith, and my OC/IC tradition. With or without the physical collar, when people know I’m ordained, and when people don’t even know my name – there is no escaping the fact that I represent something other than “just me”.

When a bishop, a priest, or pastor publically endorses a political candidate he becomes the cause for division, and thus limits or reduces his abiblity to call people across the political spectrum to the cause of the Gospel – precisely because that endorsement becomes a point of reference from which people derive their understanding of everything else he might say (related or not). He ceases to speak to that which is bigger than himself.

The message of the Gospel cuts across the political divides, there is no Jew, nor Greek, free-man, nor slave, Republican, Democrat, Tory, Labour . . . there is just the body of Christ. Those of us who are called to serve in an ordained capacity must speak only to this audience – the body of Christ, not the body politic – for when we cross the border into the civic arena, we surrender our authoritative voice, we drag the message of Christ down to the level of the mundane, and we cease to be effective in calling the whole body to live our baptismal vocation; rather one portion will hear us – because they too have chosen that civic candidate, and the other will ignore or deride us because they have painted us with a civic political brush, and no longer see us as a voice of the “catholic” assembly.

I’ve been revisiting an old favourite today in relation to another project. As part of my re-read I stopped to consider the following:

Liturgical ministry is not primarily an honour but a function of service in and to the Church assembled for divine worship. Loading sancutaries with special ministers for ideological reasons, or to confer status and honour on special groups in the assembly, violates this fact and often has the effect of suggesting that the highest degree of Christian engranchisement is to be found in clerical or quasiclerical status. The general principle is that ministers proliferate according to liturgical need, the need being determined by the assembly rather than by ideology.

- Elements of Rite, by Aidan Kavanagh, 72-3

Not long ago Bp. Tim Cravens wrote a post of a similar vein. While there is certainly an element within our community that seeks ordination for their own sense of personal dignity, ideology, and status, this is deplorable and we all owe it to ourselves, and our communities to be a bit more . . . . selective when it comes to ordination; there is another, and to my mind overlooked aspect to this issue. When the the majority (or in some cases all of) the community wears a collar the fullness of the body of Christ is not relised.

What I mean by this is that all possible gifts of spirit and ministry are not cultivated in these settings, to some extent I wonder if it does not negatively affect the catholicity of the assembly – “catholic” here being the “whole” body of Christ in that place. If our vision of church is the three fold orders only – then perhaps everyone ought to be ordained. But our vision of the church is not exclusively the three fold order – but there is that essential fourth order – the laity, whose presnece ensures that the “whole” body is realised, and the fullness of the gifts of the Spirit in that place are present.

In a word, its about balance; an unbalanced body falls over – it cannot stand, wheras a balanced body stands firm, and can meet all blessing and adversity confident and strong.