If I flop, let 'em pan me

I note this week the title quote, attributed to Knute Rockne, in regards to the Pete and Marty show in Dale City last weekend. The house holds 3,500; the crowd numbered 1,000. Pete brought 350 from home (which is like counting your mom, dad, sister, brother, and 346 cousins, that had to come to your school play), leaving a real audience of 650. With that kind of box office, in preview, on the road, it wouldn't make it to Broadway. Along the lines of the old show biz adage, 'the play's a success, the audience is a failure,' the Sunday morning headline in Variety might read, 'EPIX NIX DOX POX.'

In the other corner, our Archbishop of Canterbury mailed a please-don't-come-to Virginia letter (sounds like a Bizarro version of the Dave Loggins song), to Pete, too late, too arrive in Nigeria, before he left for the States. I've been in business almost 30 years. Oft times, I've likened the office to Survivor: you make alliances, you break alliances, you send folks to Exile Island, you visit yourself. Yet even I can't figure out if there was an intent to send that letter late on purpose; or if it happened by accident, or through carelessness; or, if it didn't or it did, what was I supposed to think, either way?

I've had it with the two of them. Successive adverse court decisions against the Anglicans in Pittsburgh, Florida and South Carolina, and the flop at Hylton Chapel, represent high low-water marks for a failed succession. On the other hand, if the AB's letter really was sent late on purpose, it's so Machiavellian, like Sammy Davis, Jr., I've got to say, "It's a turn-off, man." I'm passing Damon Runyon's brilliant discernment of Job on to both of them: "Shut up, God explained."

I'm moving on. To what?

We're going home. Home being St. Margaret's Episcopal. When Connie and I moved to Fredericksburg, we joined the local parish in accordance with the 11th Commandment: "Thou shalt not driveth more than 10 miles to church." The heck with it. We're going anyway. (I heard someone last week call them The Ten Suggestions, anyway...)

I should have been content at the neighborhood church. There were no Anglicans; no votes; no talk of splits. The parish was solidly Diocesan. The most vociferous argument was whether the ornamental cherry tree should be cut down and paved over for a parking lot. All that I desired, intellectually, was there, yet, something was missing.

I once visited Christchurch in Dublin. Inside a case, in a small insert, cut into the stone wall, is the heart of St. Laurence. That's what was missing. When I called our rector about a transfer, he said he wasn't surprised. He knew, Connie knew, what I've always known; wherever I go, my heart will always be captive to St. Margaret's, like that heart in a box, in that ancient church, in Ireland.

God plants signposts, I reckon. I'm called to teach Adult Ed at St. Margaret's. While the Hylton Chapel show was laying an egg, Connie and I were in Baltimore for our annual Orioles weekend. We lodged at the Inn across from the Inner Harbor Barnes & Nobles (natch). The book, "Christianity for the Rest of Us," magically leapt off the shelf into my hands. That happens alot. Whenever I get a mind to write about anything, the right tome mysteriously appears. It might be God's doing. (Though I'll admit the odds of not finding a book on any topic are rather low considerng the time spent in bookstores. The information desk at the Fredericksburg Borders refers shoppers to me when I'm in...)

This book, by Diana Butler Bass, infers a lesson I learned in business school called the Hawthorne Effect. At GE in the 1920's, psychologists turned the lights up on the factory floor. Unsurprisingly, production shot up. Next, they turned the lights down. Productivity went up. The lesson learned is that what you do is less important than the attention you pay to people.

Bass rejects likewise the idea that only conservative churches grow today, and that mainline churches are in decline due to their perceived liberalism. She contends any church can grow if it's intentional in what it does, and attention is paid to the parishioners who want to know why it's done. (I can't think of anything more valuable I learned in college; actually, I can't remember anything else I learned in college.)

Bass writes churches differ by whether they are establishment or intentional. The former emphasize buildings, as edifice core, and the paid professional clergy that manage the plant. The latter emphasize mission built upon the accredited value of the diverse gifts each parishioner has to offer.

St. Margaret's Episcopal is free today to be anything it wants. The potential is limitless. We're all witness to the rebirth of a beloved friend. If there's any place on earth entitled to be called, 'born again,' it's here; even if I have to drive 30 miles to join.

I can't leave this week without noting one other lesson learned; the German philosopher, Karl Popper's, 'problem of the paradox of tolerance.' It's a hard lesson for an old knee-jerk liberal, yet, after all that's happened, it explains much.

Popper proposes that while people of good will generally profess tolerance, it must have at least one limitation: intolerance. He writes, "Under the assumption of tolerating intolerance, intolerant behavior will spread unstoppably because no actions are being taken due to our premise of unlimited tolerance."

Bass' focus on intentionality and Popper's paradoxical problem have forged a mutal kinship throughout history. Last week, I wrote about pre-war British appeasers. Their intention was to avoid the carnage of World War I at all costs so they tolerated intolerance to a point where it was too late, and what they sought to avoid, became inevitable.

The initial success of the German aggressor during the World War II, however, led to what historians call 'victory disease.' Their early triumphs led them to believe they were invincible, and so, they overreached, at Stalingrad, and lost the war.

Just as it was then, we're now at the turning point, where those who believe themselves destined to achieve their aims, have overreached, and are being turned back. The attempt to displace TEC as the sole American sect in the Communion, legitimized through the incorporation of seized property, has failed, and continues to fail. The drive to instill centralized authority in the person and office of the Archbishop of Canterbury, contrary to Anglican tradition and TEC Canon, has failed. The selective use of the Windsor Report as a bludgeon, while at the same time, violating its prohibition against crossing ancient bishopric boundary lines, such as the rather sad Pete and Marty show, represent the lost cause tactics of a general failure growing increasingly desperate.

I note in Pete's after-action response to Rowan, he stated he wasn't necessarily wedded to CANA. That must have come as a bit of a shock to his new North American regional sales manager. Rather than a partnership, Martin might be forgiven for thinking he's viewing a nightmare episode of 'Spin and Marty.' To frame it in Robert Benchly's immortal words, could it be that 'the ship is deserting the sinking rats?'

Perhaps those who are intentional and intolerant will always succeed at first since those who oppose them are reluctant to abandon the tolerant assumption that all parties are sincere in their good will. Recognizing the danger in this is only the first lesson. How to own, and convey intention, while concurrently practicing tolerance, is the ultimate object of the teaching.

It's a lesson to ponder in the future. Meanwhile, as I promised, I'm moving on, to report the much more intriguing and glorious story as St. Margaret's Episcopal unfolds in its latest Incarnation, and we take on the role of Joseph and Mary, the family that nutures the baby, and serves the adult, with intention and tolerance.

Thank you, beloved St. Maggies, once again, for providing a community and a role to our family. Thank you, God, for sending us home.