c. 2003 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is a writer and computer consultant, managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C.)

(UNDATED) “Why aren’t you writing about what is happening in the Episcopal Church?” asks a reader, referring to a gathering of 2,700 conservatives in Dallas to declare a “realignment of Anglicanism” in America.

Having scored some headlines, they are appealing their case now to the archbishop of Canterbury, hoping to forestall the consecration of a gay bishop in New Hampshire.

I replied that the Texas conclave brought to mind Macbeth’s morose words about “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

My second reaction was a sigh, as this tiresome controversy over homosexuality reveals again how obsessively self-referential our churches have become. Out there is a world starving for food, hope, justice, meaning, grace and peace, and in here we are vetting each other’s leanings on sexuality.

My third reaction was to wonder how many believers care about the personal life of the bishop-elect of New Hampshire. Not many, I suspect, but maybe they are legion. If so, how did that come about? How did sex _ a topic of no concern to Jesus _ become a primary litmus test in religious circles? When people beset by real needs go in search of a living God, why do religious leaders hand them the scorpion of sexuality arguments?

Then I read the morning paper. A seminary acquaintance was quoted as arguing against “the overturning of apostolic teaching” and departure from “the historic faith.” That got my dander up. Not because of his opinions, but because he presumes to identify his opinions as truth, as eternal verity, as the revealed will of God, and therefore as non-negotiable, as worthy of whatever dagger comes to hand.

Some say this is a secularized age in which faith has been buried by the platitudes and appetites of a coarse culture. I’d say religion has undone itself, like the tragic Macbeth, and become “a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.”

Too often, religion’s stalwarts have proclaimed their opinions and interests as ultimate truth. Too often, “soldiers of the Cross” have mistaken their battle cries for God’s yearning. Too often, the argumentative have scoured the Scriptures for weapons, distorted what Jesus did and said, trivialized God’s vast and tender imaginings, and declared themselves as uniquely possessed of virtue. Too often, church-builders have scored an easy win by telling members they are superior.

Opinions are opinions, not truth. Buttressing an opinion with selective reading of Scripture or church history doesn’t make it truth. Opinions matter, because they reveal our inner selves. Opinions are worth arguing about, because opinions guide our behavior. Opinions give spice to life, call forth creative energy and warm our wintry nights. But when opinion masquerades as truth, it becomes idiocy, that is, knowing only itself. When opinion claims truth’s prerogatives, it becomes demagoguery. When opinion tries to win the battle by scorning negotiation and seizing the dagger, it becomes dangerous.

The framers of the Constitution saw religion’s tendency to stop at nothing in pursuit of its self-interest, and so they protected the people against having any particular religion imposed on them. Explaining that protection, President Thomas Jefferson borrowed an image from Colonial free-thinker Roger Williams and affirmed a “wall of separation between church and state.”

More and more people are pursuing a comparable separation in their faith. They cut religion a lot of slack, which church leaders often misread as loyalty, but in fact they are seeking full lives and meaningful faith without caring about who is elected Episcopal bishop of New Hampshire.

The gospel confronts its tellers. Religion has inherited great wealth. Tangible wealth like property, fine art and endowments; intangible wealth like grand forms of worship, glorious music and local traditions; and the mysterious wealth of loyalty that sometimes seems deserved but often resembles the strange parent-loyalty of the abused child.

As Jesus warned, that wealth has become an obstacle, a burden.

Rather than consider what needs to be given away, religion’s custodians plot to retain their inherited wealth and to win at any cost. Like Macbeth, they vow never to be the one who “first cries, `Hold, enough!”’

DEA END EHRICH