I’ve been thinking about this bus driver who, last week (I think it was) refused to drive one of London’s new “Athiest busses” because he’s an Evangelical Christian. The story has been reported now on both sides of the Great Pond, but here are two references (A and B) for you to look at and ponder. We’ve talked about it a bit here at GCHQ and while I’m still sitting with some of the questions it raises I wonder: did he also refuse to drive busses advertising abortion services? What about busses with adverts celebrating Diwali and Ramadan? I could go on for another two or three dozen lines with these type of questions. Is this an act of hypocrisy, or is this “drawing the line” somewhere in the sand, and what is that line, what does it say about his expression of Christianity, more importantly, how does it reflect on other Christians – like us?

—- Here too is an NPR report on “Advertising Atheism” – I’ve not listened to it in full yet, but hey, its NPR you know it’ll be good. —

This is a follow-up post to Lyngine’s great comment (19 Dec) in the Shifting Sands thread another is on the way of a slightly different bent:

Back in the late 80’s and early 90’s when I was living in DC, before I was ordained, our parish “edited” the liturgy to suit the various protest issues of the members at the time. For example, the creed was dropped, or so significantly altered as to be unrecognisable as a statement of conviction, gender was rearranged, even denuded of value. Our experience experimenting with such “reforms” was simply a reflection of what was then happening across the spectrum of Christianity in the US. Many communities were to one extent or another, caught up in the theological fads of the day: creation spirituality, extreme feminist theology, and striving to positively adapt to the needs of increasingly visible and active minority groups such as Hispanics, Blacks, and gays and lesbians.

The process of reform, if handled well, can become the driving force of renewal in a community. However, many of these experiments, particularly as I witnessed them in OC/IC communities, were not about renewing our appreciation of our faith, but they were weapons of protest against theological and institutional issues of other denominations. In hind-sight it was all rather silly – these issues were not our issues, but were somehow finding their way into our worship and community life. In short it was as though folks having left church X now stood outside the window pulling faces and waving placards at the members inside – failing to notice that it was a stained glass window, no body inside saw them, and the passers by outside quickly crossed the street to get away from the screaming nutter with the brightly painted placard.

What is really perverse about this time is that the argument for these changes was not as an act of protest, but to create a safe space for the injured to heal from their wounds, and start again without having to re-invent their sense of Christian faith. What actually happened however, was that it deepened the divide, picked at the wound, and frightened off any who might have otherwise been happy to join a small vibrant, albeit quirky, sacramental community.

Liturgy is not a “tool” to be used (abused) for an agenda. Rather, it is the living reflection of the community’s unity around the table of Christ, and our thanksgiving for grace bestowed through the sacrament, and realised through our practice of the teaching of Christ to live, and live well.