United Methodist bishops approved a proposal May 4 that would significantly redefine the role of president for the Council of Bishops.

The amendment to the church’s constitution would allow the council to elect one of its own to a full-time, four-year position without the usual responsibilities of overseeing a geographic area.

The individual in that role would serve as the denomination’s chief ecumenical officer, help align the strategic direction of the church and focus on growing vital congregations, among other duties.

I’m not entirely sure what to think of this. On the surface, it sounds harmless enough. Most bishops are overworked. It’s hard for a bishop to oversee her or his episcopal area and serve as president of the Council of Bishops both. So why not create a separate position that doesn’t have the responsibilities of a geographic area? Sounds reasonable enough.

On the other hand, it does seem odd on the heels of the Call to Action report to be laying down another layer of bureaucracy (I thought we were supposed to be reducing these) plus all the additional expense. Creating a whole new formal head of the Council of Bishops doesn’t strike me as streamlining.

What’s more, I’m afraid to ask how much it will cost. I hate to be petty, but bishops aren’t cheap. I don’t know what the average salary is for a bishop, but when you add in benefits, office expenses, and support staff, this new position will likely cost half a million dollars a year. That could be an added $2 million per quadrennium. Aren’t we in a recession still? Shouldn’t we be cutting budgets, not inflating them?

Of course, the deeper question I have is about accountability. The proposed responsibilities of this new position would basically make this presiding bishop the official spokesperson for The United Methodist Church in between General Conferences. To whom does this presiding bishop answer?

Again, I don’t want to be mean, but currently the average bishop is held accountable by their annual conference. I know some people will scoff at that, but I really believe that happens.

So who will hold this non-geographic bishop accountable? What group will hinder what he or she can say on behalf of the UMC? In light of the recent joint statement from 36 retired bishops (none of whom are currently accountable to any episcopal area), this is a real concern for me.

In essence, what are the limits of her or his authority? What do we do if he or she oversteps those bounds?

After all, the lesson of history is, those with power tend to try to add to their power. Just look at the Pope. That’s not how the position was originally designed to function, regardless of what my Catholic friends assure me. Power accumulates more power. What will stop that from happening here?

Maybe I’m reading too much into it. I’m sure that I am. Still, I can’t help but wonder: Is this the start of a Methodist Pope?

The blessed Apostle was aware of this and said: “Though I give my body to be burned, and have no love, it profits me nothing” (1 Cor. 13:3). From this we learn that perfection does not follow immediately upon renunciation and withdrawal from the world.

It comes after the attainment of love which, as the Apostle said, “is not jealous or puffed up, does not grow angry, bears no grudge, is not arrogant, thinks no evil” (1 Cor. 13:4-5).

All these things establish purity of heart; and it is for this that we should do everything, scorning possessions, enduring fasts and vigils gladly, engaging in spiritual reading and psalmody. (Philokalia, vol. 1, p. 96)

I find this passage interesting for a couple of reasons. First, Cassian uses the word “perfection.” I don’t know about you, but that’s a fairly rare word for me to run into outside of Wesleyan circles, and in a context where the author is clearly talking about some form of holiness/ entire sanctification as we would term it. And this in a work written somewhere around 425 AD.

Second, Cassian clearly grounds his notion of Perfection in two things: Love and Purity of Heart. For Cassian, the essence of the Christian life is the pursuit of love. Once you are transformed into godly love, you receive purity of heart. The more you have purity of heart, the more you become what he terms perfect.

Everything else we do as Christians is simply a means to this end. Prayer, fasting, Scripture reading, meditation. It’s all a means to love and purity of heart which culminates in perfection.

Am I missing something or is this John Wesley in the year 425 AD?

When we pray, we must stand in our mind before God, and think of Him alone. Yet, various thoughts keep jostling in the mind, drawing it away from God.

In order to teach the mind to rest on one thing, the Holy Fathers used short prayers and acquired the habit of reciting them unceasingly. This unceasing repetition of a short prayer kept the mind on the thought of God and dispersed all irrelevant thoughts.

They adopted various short prayers, but it is the Jesus Prayer which has become particularly established amongst us and is most generally employed: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’

So this is what the Jesus Prayer is. It is one among various short prayers, oral like all others. It’s purpose is to keep the mind on the single thought of God.

The part that grabbed me right away was the bit about how “thoughts keep jostling in the mind, drawing it away from God.”

In essence, we’re trying to pray, but our mind keeps wandering. We’re trying to focus on God, but we keep thinking about other things: that email we need to reply to, that meeting we’ve got tomorrow, that call we need to return. The moment we bow our head, a thousand little thoughts jump to mind, distracting us from God.

Who hasn’t had that problem? Really, it’s kind of comforting that even the church fathers (and mothers) had the same difficulty. They wrestled with wandering thoughts while they were trying to pray, too.

So, what do you do? How do you keep the mind from wandering? How do we focus our thoughts in prayer?

Well, according to Theophan, you get a short little prayer like the Jesus Prayer and you pray it over and over, focusing on the words each time. Pretty soon, the focus will shift from the words themselves to God. And, since the prayer is short, it will keep other thoughts from creeping in.

Personally, I find this a fairly helpful bit of instruction. Instead of a long, winding spontaneous prayer, I can use a short set prayer, easily memorized and oft recited, that coaxes the mind into meditative prayer.

It’s not so much vain repetition as it is the widow’s persistence. But, the familiarity of the words relaxes the mind and works its way into the soul.

And, really, as Theophan suggests, any short prayer will do. Take a short passage of Scripture and turn it into a meditative prayer.

Like Psalm 51:10, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”

Or Luke 23:42, “Not my will, but your will be done.” Or any number of other Scriptural prayers.

Or even, as so many church fathers like John Chrysostom have suggested, that modified prayer of the publican from Luke 18:13, the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Which prayer we choose is less important than that we find that prayer that helps us clear out all the distractions and focus our hearts and minds on God.

It’s what I often think of, at least.

However, Evagrius the Solitary (ca. 346-399) has a slightly different idea:

If you are a theologian, you will pray truly. And if you pray truly, you are a theologian. (On Prayer, 61)

Εἰ θεολόγος εἶ, προσεύξῃ ἀληθῶς, καὶ εἰ άληθῶς προσεύξῃ, θεολόγος εἶ.

It’s a refreshing idea.

The real theologian is not the person who can speak eloquently about the deep things of God. Rather, the real theologian is the person who embodies that understanding of God in prayer and holiness.

That is, a theologian is not the person who has a theoretical knowledge about God, but rather the one who has a practical and experiential knowledge of God.

I wonder what would happen to the church if we shared Evagrius’ conviction.

What would the church look like if all our leaders were this kind of praying theologian? if all our scholars were this kind of saint? if all our pastors had this kind of relationship with God?

I’ve come to believe, you cannot give what you do not have.

You cannot teach me how to become what you are not already.

So, as a pastor, how can I teach people how to pray if I don’t already pray? How can I teach people how to be holy if I am not already holy, or at least well on the way?

Perhaps Evagrius’ assertion explains a great deal of the state of the church today. What do you think?

I think the besetting sin of pastors, maybe especially evangelical pastors, is impatience.

We have a goal. We have a mission. We’re going to save the world. We’re going to evangelize everybody, and we’re going to do all this good stuff and fill our churches.

This is wonderful. All the goals are right. But this is slow, slow work, this soul work, this bringing people into a life of obedience and love and joy before God.

And we get impatient and start taking shortcuts and use any means available.

Impatience is the sin that pastors struggle with most.

Why? Because it tempts us to take shortcuts and do whatever it takes. It tempts us to use the ends to justify the means, to do all the right things in all the wrong ways.

It’s a fascinating way of looking at the pastoral life.

And a stunningly accurate critique.

We are an impatient culture. We don’t like waiting for results. We are an instant society.

And that carries over to the church. We want to be holy, but in only five minutes of prayer. We want to change the world, but in only an hour of service. We want to grow our church, but in only a year’s worth of work.

So, we look to programs and marketed methods. And there is nothing wrong with some of these. Methods and programs can be good.

The question is: Is it the right method used at the right time and in the right way? Is it a program focusing on people and their best interests or on institution and the things that benefit institutional survival?

Peterson touches on the right question for us. Impatience is driving us as Methodists these days. We are anxious about our future.

But, the things we need to do can’t be done in five minutes. It will require patient, consistent work done in the right ways over a very long time.

I wonder. Do we have the patience for it? Or will we rush off after another program or method that promises a quick fix? Time will tell.

It’s a question well worth considering, especially in light of the 33 retired bishops who issued their joint statement calling for a change in the UMC’s stance on self-avowed practicing homosexuals as clergy. You can read their statement here: A Statement of Counsel to the Church – 2011.

On the one hand, everyone is entitled to their opinion. I may not agree with these retired bishops, but they certainly have a right to their opinion on the subject. What’s more, they have a right to work for change in the language of the church’s doctrine by legitimate means.

However, where I get uneasy is when they use their position and title as bishop in order to influence the political process.

For me, the issue is two-fold. First, the title of bishop, retired or otherwise, gives the impression of authority. It leads people to believe that these individuals speak for the church as a whole, that their opinion is the view of The United Methodist Church, even if it is not.

Second, there is the matter of accountability. An active bishop has to answer to her or his Annual Conference. A retired bishop does not. To whom are these bishops accountable? To whom do they answer for their actions?

Yet, no matter what they say ‘in the name of the church,’ these retired bishops are still a part of the Council of Bishops – for life.

That seems problematic to me. And my concern goes well beyond the current issue of these particular 33 retired bishops.

For how long should a person get to carry the title ‘bishop’? If their authority and power has ended, shouldn’t the title as well?

Do we really want retired bishops still running around advocating positions in the life of the church? Is that really a retired bishop?

If they keep the title, how do we hold them accountable if they misuse the position? Shouldn’t there be a mechanism for doing that?

What should the role of a retired bishop be? How much voice should they still have?

What do you think?

1. The Prayer of the Mouth, or Oral Prayer:

This is pretty much what it sounds like. It’s when we simply say a prayer with our lips, reciting it aloud, preferably with meaning.

According to the church fathers, the problem with this type of prayer is that the mind tends to wander. We don’t always think about what we’re praying. Consequently, we may not always mean what we pray.

In other words, oral prayer lends itself to being rote ritual.

2. The Prayer of the Mind, or Mental Prayer:

Mental prayer is when we reel in the mind and we focus on the words of what we are praying. We pray what we mean, and we mean what we pray.

For the church fathers, this is a marked improvement over mere oral prayer. However, it still falls short of the ideal. The mind may mean what it says, but the heart still may not be in it. It’s prayer without feeling.

Think of those times when you’ve prayed and it feels as dry as dust and you wonder if God was even listening. That’s the limit of mental prayer. It’s prayer of the mind without the heart.

3. The Prayer of the Heart, or Inner Prayer:

Inner prayer is when the mind descends into the heart and we pray with full feeling. What we once prayed with our lips, we now pray silently. And we sit in the presence of God pouring out our hearts to Him.

According to the church fathers, this is the most intimate form of prayer. Prayer is no longer simply words we say or thoughts we ponder, but rather the moving of God’s Spirit within our spirit. This is the goal of all prayer.

That’s the gist, at least. Personally, I find this a helpful way of thinking about prayer. All of us pray in these different ways at different times.

However, the ultimate goal is to reach that more contemplative form of prayer where God moves in powerful ways in our hearts and minds. That’s the prayer that really changes and transforms us.

The question is, what do we do to get there? How do we move from oral prayer and mental prayer to the inner prayer of the heart?

And not just a little, but fairly clearly and consistently over a period of years. While the Bible leaves us to infer and imply, the early church doesn’t. It has a very strong voice articulating a very clear interpretation of Scripture on this matter.

I didn’t know that, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Abortion was a very widespread practice throughout the Greco-Roman world. And it makes sense that the early church fathers would have to address the subject regularly and in the clearest of terms.

Here is a bit of what I’ve found:

The Didache (ca. 125 AD):

And the second commandment of the Teaching; You shall not commit murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not commit pederasty, you shall not commit fornication, you shall not steal, you shall not practice magic, you shall not practice witchcraft, you shall not murder a child by abortion nor kill that which is born. (2.1-2)

Here’s the Greek text of the pertinent line:

οὐ φονεύσεις τέκνον ἐν φθορᾷ, οὐδὲ γεννηθὲν ἀποκτενεῖς. (2.2)

Likewise, the Epistle of Barnabas (ca. 130 AD) has a similar admonition:

Thou shalt not slay the child by procuring abortion; nor, again, shalt thou destroy it after it is born. (ch. 19.5)

Again, the Greek is almost identical to that of the Didache:

οὐ φονεύσεῖς τέκνον ἐν φθορᾷ, οὐδὲ πάλιν γεννηθὲν ἀποκτενεῖς. (19.5)

Not too many years later we find these comments from Athenagoras (ca. 175), the Athenian philosopher turned Christian apologist, as he attempts to defend the church against the charge of cannibalism during the Eucharist:

And when we say that those women who use drugs to bring on abortion commit murder, and will have to give an account to God for the abortion, on what principle should we commit murder? For it does not belong to the same person to regard the very fetus in the womb as a created being, and therefore an object of God’s care, and when it has passed into life, to kill it; and not to expose an infant, because those who expose them are chargeable with child-murder, and on the other hand, when it has been reared to destroy it. (A Plea for the Christians, ch. 35)

Then, around 200 AD, Tertullian writes:

The embryo therefore becomes a human being in the womb from the moment that its form is completed. The law of Moses, indeed, punishes with due penalties the man who shall cause abortion, inasmuch as there exists already the rudiment of a human being, which has imputed to it even now the condition of life and death, since it is already liable to the issues of both, although, by living still in the mother, it for the most part shares its own state with the mother. (A Treatise on the Soul, ch. 37)

Later, in another work Tertullian expands on this thought:

In our case, murder being once for all forbidden, we may not destroy even the fetus in the womb, while as yet the human being derives blood from other parts of the body for its sustenance. To hinder a birth is merely a speedier man-killing; nor does it matter whether you take away a life that is born, or destroy one that is coming to the birth. That is a man which is going to be one; you have the fruit already in its seed. (Apologia 9.6)

Basil the Great, bishop of Caesarea and one of the Cappadocian Fathers, writes on the subject in 374 AD, concluding:

The woman who purposely destroys her unborn child is guilty of murder.  With us there is no nice enquiry as to its being formed or unformed.  In this case it is not only the being about to be born who is vindicated, but the woman in her attack upon herself; because in most cases women who make such attempts die.  The destruction of the embryo is an additional crime, a second murder, at all events if we regard it as done with intent. (Letter 188, to Amphilochius, bishop of Iconium, sec. 2.1)

Women also who administer drugs to cause abortion, as well as those who take poisons to destroy unborn children, are murderesses. (Letter 188, to Amphilochius, bishop of Iconium, sec. 8)

Jerome, author of the Latin Vulgate, comments on the matter in a letter written around 396 AD, as he notes:

Some go so far as to take potions, that they may insure barrenness, and thus murder human beings almost before their conception. Some, when they find themselves with child through their sin, use drugs to procure abortion, and when (as often happens) they die with their offspring, they enter the lower world laden with the guilt not only of adultery against Christ but also of suicide and child murder. (Letters 22.13, To Eustochium)

Then, John Chrysostom, the great orator of the eastern church, mentions it during a sermon delivered around 390 AD:

Why sow where the ground makes it its care to destroy the fruit? where there are many efforts at abortion? where there is murder before the birth? for even the harlot thou dost not let continue a mere harlot, but makest her a murderess also. You see how drunkenness leads to whoredom, whoredom to adultery, adultery to murder; or rather to a something even worse than murder. For I have no name to give it, since it does not take off the thing born, but prevent its being born. Why then dost thou abuse the gift of God, and fight with His laws, and follow after what is a curse as if a blessing, and make the chamber of procreation a chamber for murder, and arm the woman that was given for childbearing unto slaughter? (Homily 24 on Romans)

And there are several others whose citations I haven’t yet been able to track down. Follow the links and check out these quotes in context. It’s a fascinating read.

Clearly, the early church fathers didn’t hesitate to speak on the subject. And there is no confusion as to where they came down.

It cannot help but make you wonder about the modern church. If it was so clear to the early church that abortion was a form of murder, why are we so hesitant to affirm the same? In fact, why do portions of the church support abortion in all instances? I wonder …

In part, he says:

While I think there is a lot we can learn from the business world, this trend has me very concerned. When our leaders think in business terms, we ought not be surprised when they act like corporate executives and our parishioners act like consumers. We are not peddlers for God. Neither are parishioners people who ought to be shopping for the next best experience.

So, he has a question: What’s our way out of this? How do we find other language to articulate the mission of the church? How do we move past this business mentality and find a new model for our ecclesiology?

I think it’s a question well worth considering. The language and models we use shape who we are, what we expect, and how we function. And there are always unintended consequences from this.

So, if you get the chance, go over to Steve’s blog and comment. I’d love to hear what you think. You can get there by clicking on this link: The Business of Church.

It’s a complicated issue. On the one hand, the Old Testament clearly supports the death penalty at a number of points. Particularly, passages like Exodus 21:12 ff. and Leviticus 20 are important for this discussion.

In each passage, the Bible decrees the sentence of death for a number of various offenses. Some of those crimes we would consider heinous (like premeditated murder), others we likely would not (like adultery). Still, the Bible doesn’t flinch in condemning each instance to death.

However, for as clear as those passages are, there are as many others that urge us to mercy and forgiveness. Often, in this vein, we point to Jesus’ response when the woman caught in adultery is brought to Him.

We think of the story of Cain and Abel. One cannot help but notice that the first murderer is exiled, not condemned to death. God Himself hesitates to employ the death penalty here.

Likewise, the Bible (both OT & NT) is full of the teaching to forgive as we’ve been forgiven. After all, if God has forgiven us so much, how can we not forgive one another? What’s more, Jesus suggests, God will forgive us as we’ve already forgiven others. (Yikes!)

In addition, there is the early church’s stance on pacifism. Likely, today that would include an opposition to the death penalty.

These are the two tensions found within the Bible itself. On the one hand, justice. On the other, mercy and forgiveness.

How do you reconcile the two?

Should we as Christians oppose the death penalty? Or should we endorse some measure of its use as the Old Testament does?

I’m curious to hear your response.

One caveat before I turn it over to you. For me, the Bible is the Word of God. If you want me to take your answer seriously, please treat it that way.

In other words, please don’t use the ‘that was then, this is now’ type of argument. The Bible (OT included) is a very complex, nuanced, and sophisticated book which deserves to be taken seriously. Arguments that devalue the Bible or discount the OT as primitive and archaic do not help me.

That said, I look forward to your comments. How do you reconcile what the Bible says about the death penalty? As a Christian, should I oppose it or support it?