Over the past two years I’ve enjoyed a number of books researched by, written by, and published by Indie folk. Even those texts that I don’t necessarily agree with bring a smile and a nice dose of pride.

One aspect of this (I hope growing) scholarly production of indie history and theological voice – that it seems we have not yet come to grips with is the idea of peer review. I’m not talking about the traditional expectations of “peer review” – that just won’t work in our indie setting, besides the traditional method is being (rightly) challenged with new, more efficient, and it would seem more accountable, and engaged methods (see for example this article in the New York Times).

It would be nice, however, to have a degree of confidence that the work our own researchers are producing has been collectively edited by known experts in OC/IC history, ethos, etc. Naturally this raises the question of who are our experts. Moreover, it challenges the existing difficulty of getting those experts to engage with one another, and with other interested Indie writers.

It might be simply that we start a “trend” in the community for new books to show/state that they have been reviewed by, and commented on by three different “known experts” – thus giving other indie folks a sense of confidence that this work is relatively well put together – rather than the rantings of some grumpy crank wanting to see his or her name on the cover of a book.

In this way (or something similar) Indie writers and researchers can build their reputation in the community as solid researchers – as eventually, the “new guys” will be asked to review a work by someone even newer – and sound representatives of the tradition. Thus expanding the circle of experts, and further encouraging engagement within communities, and the wider Indie scene.

What do you think?

Now here’s an interesting question, and it struck me while doing the morning trawl, one thing led to another led to another and before I knew it I found myself in the website of a convent scanning their FAQ page. What struck me about it was their answer:

“This is one of the hardest of all questions to answer because the person asking it usually has her own ideas about what “traditional” means. . . .”

This really opens a door into talking about what it means to be “traditional” because you have to start by asking the background question – what do YOU mean by “traditional”? In my experience in the indie community it generally falls into two categories (which sometimes but not always overlap).

Category A is ritual. I say ritual and not liturgy because ritual encompasses more than “just” liturgy. Frequently people define “traditional” or traditionalist, or traditionalism by the forms of ritual used in the life of the community. “Traditional” communities often seek to use “old” rituals, and to execute them with a level of precision that would make a drill seargent weep for joy. “Traditional” communities often like “the old language” – and use it liberally throughout their ritual year.

Category B is doctrine. “Traditional” communities in category B emphsise a set of doctrines that they hold to be the “traditional” teaching of “The Church”. Often this body of dictates is a set collection frozen in time, reflecting the real or imagined golden age of “The Church”.

The difficulty with these two (often overlapping) sets is that they are wholly unsuited to the OC/IC ethos. Which brings us back to the question: What is traditional (in our context)?

Last week my friend and fellow Indie-Easterner Huw posed this question on Twitter: “Define ‘Spiritual but not religious’.” My initial response encompassed two ideas that I’ve encountered over the years from a significant number of people who describe themselves as being “spiritual but not religious”. First is the idea that the “institution” of religion impedes communion with God. Second that “dogma” or “doctrine” also impedes communion with God. Both of these themes have some very interesting problems. For example, people who describe themeselves as “spiritual but not religious” and go on to discuss their dissatisfaction at what they percieve to be the overly dogmatic nature of religous communities – frequently go on to make very clear statements of belief (doctrine) themselves. Opening the jar of questions about what do we know, and what do we percieve about the collection of teaching involved in a particular religious identity or praxis.

Huw uncovered an article from First Things “Spirituality Without Spirits” while a bit of a rant – makes an interesting point about the quality of being “non-dogmatic” in relation to also being “spiritual but not religious”:

“I don’t think Ms. Gaga or anyone else who talks like this has really thought it through. That God who forgives everyone and excludes no one doesn’t object to debauches in Berlin sex clubs. A point in his favor, from one point of view. But then he doesn’t object to murderers and torturers and corrupt bankers either. A point in his favor from no one’s point of view.”

Miller (the author) makes a fine point when he later says: “The word “spiritual” has no useful meaning if it does not refer to a relation to a real spirit. . . ” This is very true of course because that spirit necessarily has an identity, one which demands a particular relational mode, and that in turn shapes and informs the individual relating to it – just as all of our relationships shape and inform us as individuals.

In this morning’s news trawl I happened across another article this time in the Telegraph reporting that Mark Hucknull, the Chancellor of Lincoln Cathedral (a fantastic English cathedral by the way), criticises the “spiritual but not religous” crowd as selfish:

“To say that ‘I’ am ‘spiritual’ here is on a par with saying that ‘I’ am patient or thoughtful or generous; it is a description that is all about ‘me’.”

In truth this is not an unfair criticism. Think about the two themes already mentioned – the underlying issue in both is a desire to not be accountable, to not be challenged, and to not be expected to do X or Y in conjunction with one’s religious identity and praxis.

I’m aware that I’ve over-taken my usual 300 or so word limit so please bear with me just a few lines more, as I tie this into an OC/IC context. Ihave often heard indie folk, clergy and laity alike insist on being “non-dogmatic” or “non-doctrinal” – in essence “spiritual but not religious” the reasons given are that they endured the abuses of the “institutional church” and its imposition of doctrine through the activity of church officials. But It seems to me that they have run to the exact opposite extreme. The extremes at both ends are heretical as St. Epiphanius says in the Panarion.

“Spiritual but not religious” has had a lasting impact on the shape of the indie community over the past 20 years at least – one effect of this has been the simple fact that indie communities are fickle because people are afraid of committment, and they are afraid to call one another to account – because it might make them unpopular, and thereby shrink the “numbers” within the community. The problem with this model is that there is no integrity in it. Many people who convert – who become OC/IC believers do so because they are seeking a stronger connection between the integrity of the community and the practice of their sacramental Christian faith. “Spiritual but not religous” – non-dogmatic, simply does not cut it.

Have a look at the two articles, and maybe follow the sapling exchange of this thread on Twitter, but certainly add your thoughts to the comments below here.

Here in the UK the Guardian has a regular column called “Bad Science” which exposes . . . well, “bad” science, pseudo science, and “popular science” ideas – like homeopathy. Maggi Dawn has suggested on her blog the brilliant idea of a “Bad Theology” column. So what bad theologies, or pseudo theological ideas would you include, and why?

Thanks to Lyngine for forwarding this rather interesting article from Newsweek to me. Lisa Miller (the article’s author) writes that a recent Pew Forum study shows that 7 percent of Americans worship in small groups in house churches rather than attending larger gatherings/congregational settings.

The article goes on to explore some of the reasons – the era of the mega church is over, one size does not fit all when it comes to worship & spirituality, and the rigid institutionalism of “traditional” denomonations distracts and deterrs the faithful.

What was interesting to me however, from an OC/IC perspective is the analogy between mega-church and micro-church and big brand beer, and micro-breweries. A bit flimsy at first but lets think about the branding ideas, the backround imagery for a moment. When you think micro-brewery, you think small, local producer, you think quality, traditional manufacturing but quirky enough to bend a bit here, and be flexible there.

Hmmm . . . perhaps this is not such a bad analogy aferall. Perhaps this is a decent working image set for an indie community to use to draw up an outreach plan for 2010?

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

“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?

While making my rounds yesterday I fell into this essay “What Do Converts Want?” – written from a conservative Eastern Orthodox position. Reading the essay got me thinking – and asking the question (again) what is it that attracts folks to our OC/IC tradition – that is to say: what do OUR converts want?

Today while making my rounds I found this rather interesting graphic from the Pew Forum detailing the reasons American Christians noted for either changing, or disaffiliating from their denomonation. The listed reasons are interesting – and in some ways surprisingly unexpected. The graphic directly speaks to the question – what do converts want.

It seems to me that if we are to see improved stability and longevity in our communities we ought to be aware of these questions – and some of their answers. What is more, I’m guessing that some of our outreach efforts would benefit from an awareness of, and a sensitivity to the nuances of, some of the reasons for people seeking a new faith community.

I think it is also worth considering these topics because it allows those of us already “in” the community to ask, and reflect on why we are here, what are our core vision and values, and how far are we willing to bend, adjust, or compromise on them in order to accomodate new people in the community.

I’ve learned from hard experience over the years that it is better for everyone if we  bluntly, and unashamedly say, “this is us – this is who we are”, rather than to adapt our language and customs to our faulty perceptions of what the other seeks. When we don’t do this – those committed members in the community feel slighted, or puzzled, and the newcomer is left thinking we are without a spine – and therefore has no respect for the mission and life of the community as a whole.

We cannot be all things to all people – but we can be faithful.

Since dabbling more and more in social media networks like Twitter and Facebook I’ve noticed something emerging in the vocabulary of other Christians online. More and more believers refer to their being a “follower of Jesus” or some variation thereof, avoiding or consciously rejecting the more typical “Christian”. I (perhaps mistakenly) thought that this was a product of the Emergent movement, thought it was rather neat and left it at that. Until, I read this post at FaithLab that suggests that it is a conscious decision rejecting the baggage laden “Christian”.

The post goes on to raise some interesting questions: “No doubt, the term “Christian” has baggage. Does it mean a hard-nosed, judgemental, Bible-literalist churchgoer? Or can it also label a humble, quiet, spiritually active follower? What about believers who are not church-goers? Christianity has always had a tremendous diversity of expression. But in our media-saturated world, unfortunately it seems that terms are given meaning by one particular group or approach. How do we define ourselves when we don’t fit that stereotype?”

I confess that since becoming more aware of how religion – and especially Christianity – is portrayed in various media sources, I’ve become more aware of some of this “baggage”. I’ve always approached this awareness through my personal conduct as a believer, a theologian, and a cleric – recalling the line in the morning prayer that says, may I not be the cause of embarrassment to the faith. But, is the praxis of a single individual enough? Krista Tippet talks movingly about the scope of our ability to transform the world in the latter half of her book Speaking of Faith, and says that all we can hope to accomplish is that one to one, individual activity that expresses the core of our belief and tradition.

Over the past decade or so I’ve heard many thoughtful arguments within our own OC/IC community about dropping or changing the labels we use to describe or refer to ourselves. The one that usually gets the axe is “catholic” largely because of its association with the Roman Catholic church (which we are not). Another – interestingly enough – is “church”; this term is laden with associations of institutionalisation, buildings, politics, and hierarchy.

Should we consider changing our terms? What benefit is there in doing so? Should we not instead strive to re-claim the true meaning of the existing language, or is that a lost cause?

There has been a small flood of articles on “conversion” in today’s religious news round-up. The two that caught my eye are a BBC report (here) on the Church of England’s consideration of a motion re-emphasising its explicit aim of converting people to Christianity; and Andrew Brown’s post (here on Guardian CIFBelief) reflecting on “evangelisation” in relation to the CofE motion. In his post Brown makes a rather thought-provoking observation:

In practice, though, conversion is hardly ever about intellectual conviction, whether it is to or away from Christianity, though it does seem to be more often intellectual when it is to atheism. But it is overwhelmingly about joining a tribe or a people and about shifting affections and allegiances rather than ideas. Conversion to Christianity or to Islam results when people find a tribe or a family they want to belong to; and it is worth noticing that the kinds of religions that concentrate most on conversion also simplify their doctrines as much as possible.

I love this quote, from an Imam interviewed for the BBC piece: “Any religion that believes it’s going to bring tangible benefits – peace, satisfaction and understanding in this life and the next – would like to share that.” Yes absolutely.

What I find curious though is that in our OC/IC context you don’t often see a discussion of outreach outside of the internal conversation of the local community – why? Could it be that all pervasive sense of isolation many congregations and projects feel? Maybe it is grounded in the thick layers of mistrust that have accumulated within the movement over the past few decades? Perhaps it is because so many of our “members” are ashamed or embarrassed about their links to the movement – “let’s just keep this quiet, amongst ourselves shall we”?

Let me throw open the door here and ask – what does your local community do to introduce people to the idea of OC/IC community? What challenges have you encountered? What did you do to overcome them (or better – which ones would you like some ideas on)?