On having the right password

There is an oddity about this blog which several people have noticed recently; although it is the blog of the ministry team, at the moment, I am the only one writing it. There are two reasons for this; Seyan has too much else to do (but we are working on getting him to write!) and Simon has not yet got a password, and so is not yet “permitted” to take part.
This idea of a password and permission is of course deeply theological. You can only take part in this “community” if you say the right words, and if you are “licensed” by somebody with power. How often in the church of God are people only allowed to do certain things, to take part, to be recognised as involved if they can and will “say certain words” – use certain terms, or assent to certain propositions? And in many branches of the church, there are roles can only be taken on if authorised by the appropriate person, representing the hierarchy.
Of course, in Bloomsbury, we are not like that.
Or are we? We have recently adopted a new constitution, and as part of the constitution, there is a description of the faith that we assent to. If you want to know what it is, look at our constitution. But there is no denying that it forms a boundary; we define ourselves around a theological description.
Within the constitution, there are also certain limits placed on who can do what – those who are going to be elected deacons, for example, have to have been members of the church for a certain length of time.
Since on of the things we value about who we are – indeed, one of the things that defines us, and that we are proud of, is our unboundaried nature, our openness, our lack of hard edges, what are we to make of this?
What is it that makes us who we are. It is surely not our constitution. But our constitution describes who we are, allows us a way of laying out to other people what we believe to be important about our identity.
To have no boundaries, to have no definition “over against” is to have no identity. There are occasions when I spend time with people whose sense of self is so lost, and so formless that they find it hard to function. There needs to be some sense of where the self ends and the other begins for a measure of mental and emotional health. This is true of communities as well as individuals. We need boundaries, descriptions of what makes us not something else – not a political party, for example, not a social services agency. We are a community shaped by and centred on the stories of Jesus recorded in the gospel – and, I believe, more than that, centred on the presence of the Risen Christ, who is present to those and among those who meet in his name.
I know that not everybody who is part of our community will be comfortable with this description. And that is another part of who we are as a church – we are constantly in dialogue about just who we are, and how we live it out.
And this, I believe, is why we are not tied to “saying certain words” – because what we are committed to is carrying on the conversation; the conversation among ourselves as we discuss, question and explore – and the conversation with God in Christ, as we listen, and as we speak in prayer and living. And it is this which makes us the church, the people of God in this place at this time.
As for permission by hierarchy – well, that’s another post!