We acknowledge the ongoing reality that there is a diversity of understandings and teachings about marriage in the Anglican Church of Canada, and we affirm the prayerful integrity with which those understandings and teachings are held.
This might be the hardest part of the Word to the Church for me to wrap my head around. I recognize that my perspective is coloured by my privilege: as an ally, I have not faced the same discrimination and prejudice as many LGBTQ2S+ folks have, and it’s far easier to preach tolerance and respect when you have not been a victim. However, with my privilege firmly acknowledged, I would offer some reflection on what it means to live in the tension of disagreement.
I was not always an advocate for marriage equality; quite the opposite. Over the past fifteen years, I have gone from considering myself slightly vocally opposed, to quietly opposed, to a voice of cautious restraint, to quietly supportive. Then came a breaking point, when I realized that it was not enough to be in favour, if my silence was actively contributing to the problem. Since then, I have made no secret of my support for change, and for LGBTQ2S+ Anglicans in general.
I realize that I was wrong, and I am not proud of the positions that I once took. I might not have been actively persecuting, like St. Paul before the road to Damascus, but I certainly held the coats of those who were (Acts 7.58). I was wrong, and I admit it, but I also understand why I thought the way I did, and I believe that there was a prayerful integrity behind my perspective and words at that time. The Word to the Church suggests that it’s possible to be wrong with integrity. I might still be wrong (but now in a different way), but if I am, I ought to be doing so with integrity.
I could not have come to the position that I’m in now if the Church had not been prepared to be gentle and generous with me. I shudder to think what might have happened if colleagues, parishioners, or my diocese had insisted that I needed to get with the program or get out. Since I have been on the receiving end of Church’s gentleness and generosity at a time when I would have disagreed with my present position, I can hardly withhold the same gentleness and generosity from those who disagree with me now.
However, that gentleness and generosity come with responsibilities. While people made room for me and my dissent, they didn’t give me a free pass. Homophobia, transphobia, prejudice, and hatred cannot be celebrated or even tolerated. If I made comments that were offensive, especially if they were unintentionally offensive, I was fortunate to be surrounded by people who would call me on it, and expect me to rephrase my words in ways that were more helpful. That is the responsibility that comes from genuinely embracing diversity: if we’re going to do so with integrity, we need to make room for everyone.
In response to the Word to the Church, the proposed changes to the Marriage Canon were themselves changed slightly. If passed, the amendment would have added the following to the Preface: ‘ If passed, the amendment would have added the following to the Preface: ‘Faithful members of the Anglican Church of Canada have different understandings and teachings about the nature of marriage. Some accept that the essence of marriage is between a man and a woman; others accept same sex marriage. Members are entitled to hold, teach and exercise either view provided they recognize and respect that others may with integrity hold, teach and exercise a different view.’ [Emphasis mine] This is more than just pandering to everybody; it makes the responsibility that comes with diversity crystal-clear.
If I cannot recognize that others may hold, teach, and exercise a different view with integrity, then I cannot claim integrity for my own view.
How do I know if they’re holding that view with integrity? It starts with the question of whether they can recognize that I hold mine with integrity.
This kind of diversity of doctrine is nothing new in the Anglican Communion. For hundreds of years, we have lived with diversity of understandings about the sacrament of the Eucharist. Some are more catholic in their understanding; others more protestant. Some believe in a Real Presence of Christ’s Body and Blood in the consecrated bread and wine; others believe that the sacrament is nothing more than a memorial. But there has always been room for everyone within the Anglican Church, because we can all agree that Jesus told us to ‘Do this in remembrance of me.’ We may differ in our interpretation of what he meant, but we stand together in remembering.
Likewise, some people believe that marriage must by nature be a union of one man and one woman, while others believe that the gender and orientation of the two getting married is immaterial. What we can agree on, though, is that Christian marriage is meant to be a monogamous, (ideally) life-long, faithful relationship. It’s meant to be a self-sacrificial one, modelling and mirroring the love Christ has for the world. The joining of two into one is meant to be a reminder of God’s reconciling purposes. In marriage, we pray that a couple’s lives may be ‘a sacrament of [God’s] love to this broken world, so that unity may overcome estrangement, forgiveness heal guilt, and joy overcome despair.’ There’s room for a lot of diversity of interpretation there, especially when those diverse interpretations are held with respectful integrity.
We’ve found a way to live in the tension of division around something as central to the life of the Church as the Eucharist; why can’t we do the same around marriage?
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