Voice, a Literary Analysis

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In another essay I analyzed the Presiding Bishop's theology as revealed in his public statements. link At that time I showed that his real theology was a distortion, a distortion so severe that its adoption will lead to the death of the church. This raises a question, How could it be that his teaching could actually claim the allegiance of so many in the church, including a great many bishops and priests who should have some minimum of theological insight? That question, of course, can be answered from many angles. One important response would be to analyze the role of theological education in the church today. From that viewpoint, I would claim that much of the church has been led astray by a false theology that has been around since Schleiermacher, one that is taught in most of our Episcopal seminaries.

There are, however, other reasons for the Presiding Bishop's prominence. Our culture, our church, has lost the ability to think theologically, critically, and prayerfully. Image, style, and feeling are what resonate and create success, whether in the church or in the world. Keeping in mind that our Presiding Bishop was elected by people who listened to him, I shall show this by considering the concept of "voice."

All texts have literary characteristics. Matters such as voice, mood, character-development, plot, pace, and other factors are critical for meaning. Students of literature know that texts not only communicate by presenting content, but also communicate by how the content is presented.

The Presiding Bishop's public statements are not literary fiction, and such matters as character development or plot are not relevant to his written works. Nevertheless, there is one aspect of a literary analysis that can shed light on the Presiding Bishop's public statements. This is the concept of "voice."

The voice of a text is the persona or the personality of the narrator of a text. Normally, authors adopt voices that are not themselves. For example, a middle-aged woman may write a story as narrated by a male adolescent, or an author can assume the voice of a dispassionate and omniscience observer who sees and knows all. But let us consider the voice of the Presiding Bishop's public statements by taking a sample essay, the Presiding Bishop's message on Anglican spirituality. Here is the opening paragraph.

We experience around us a yearning for meaning in the face of life's precariousness. The signs are everywhere. This yearning is variously addressed in ways both healthy and unhealthy, more and less effective. Attention to the life of the spirit is among them. Unfortunately, some of this attention is in the nature of a passing fancy, unmoored from the received tradition or the wisdom of the ages. Our Anglican heritage is a rich treasure for us in these times, to take ever more deeply to ourselves, and to share with a searching world.(1)

The voice speaks to us. It begins with the word "We." We are together. We are Anglicans. It is "our" Anglican heritage that is a treasure for "us," and we experience around "us" a yearning for meaning. The voice assumes that we belong to the same spiritual community and includes us in that assumption. Further, the voice has lived. It has experienced things. It knows the "precariousness" of life. It senses the "yearning," it recognizes the "searching world." It knows the "signs" that "are everywhere." It speaks wisdom. It is wise because it can make value judgments on significant matters. It knows that our heritage is not just a treasure, but a "rich treasure." It knows when something is "rich." It can distinguish between yearnings that are "healthy and unhealthy, more and less effective." It is able to discern when a spirituality is "unmoored from the received tradition or wisdom of the ages." This implies that it knows the "received tradition," the "wisdom of the ages," and can discern when something deviates from that tradition. It can distinguish between a "passing fancy" and the real thing. It even knows the depths of the self, because it has traveled "ever more deeply to ourselves." In short, this voice is spiritually wise.

The voice does not say, "I have studied spirituality for years and these are my best judgments. Here are the authors I have read; this is why I affirm these concepts and not others. Here are the names of those who would disagree with me." That would raise the matter of sources and fallible judgments. The voice, however, does not do this. Nor does the voice overtly proclaim that "I am competent to know spiritual truth and the value of the heritage." Nor does it say "I can distinguish between passing fancies and the real thing," nor does it proclaim that its experience is broad enough to know the "yearning" and "searching" of the world." Nor does it say "I have taken the rich treasure of Anglicanism into my own depths."

Had the voice explicitly expressed itself in this way, it would have called the reader to examine norms and alternatives. Direct statements such as "I am spiritually wise," raise at once the possibility that perhaps the voice is not wise. Then further questions arise. What is spiritual wisdom? How do we know it? What constitutes evidence that a particular person really possesses wisdom?

The voice, however, takes a different approach. It claims wisdom, but indirectly, implicitly not explicitly. Since it is implicit rather than explicit, the reader hears or reads the words without fully thinking. The reader will, however, sense or feel that the one who discerns the richness of the heritage, who grasps the difference between effective and non-effective, between a passing fancy and real thing, is a wise person. In other words, the voice does not ask its audience to measure, think, discern, or weigh evidence regarding spiritual wisdom. Rather, the voice simply addresses the heart, without the consent of the will and intellect, claiming that it is wise.

Nor does the voice asks the reader whether or not he or she wishes to be a part of the "we," the "our" and the "us." The reader is simply taken aboard, made one with the voice from the very first word, "We." The voice could have used the term "I," indicating that it is expressing its views and that these views may not be the views of its audience. If the voice were to use the word "I," then questions would arise. The reader would know that the views of the voice belonged to the author, that the author may or may not reflect the reader's own views. The reader might then ask, How are my views different? Do I really believe this? And if so, Why? The voice does not ask these questions. It simply defines Anglican spirituality, and as it does so, it includes the reader as one who believes, thinks, and feels just as the voice believes, thinks, and feels. By doing this, it defines the reader without directly asking the reader to make a reasoned, prayerful search as to the truth of its definitions. Further, by using the terms "we," "us," and "our" the voice allows the reader or listener to participate in its wisdom. The voice becomes the spokesperson for the community, stroking its members with ideas that place it and they in a distinguished position. Subtly, yet in a real way, the audience knows that it belongs to a community whose heritage is rich, whose spiritualities are not passing fancies, whose members can take their treasure "ever more deeply to ourselves." The voice invites the listener to be flattered.

It may seem that the above conclusions have exceeded the evidence. As one hears or reads a text, however, impressions are instantly formed. To read the paragraph quoted above is to sense at once that the voice is spiritually wise, although the voice never once asks that anyone judge the matter in any specific fashion. How can one say that "Unfortunately, some of this attention is in the nature of a passing fancy, unmoored from the received tradition or the wisdom of the ages," without an implicit claim to wisdom? The impression of spiritual wisdom, tacitly received, may be fleeting, but it is real, and it will be fortified over and over again as the text continues.

Once the voice has introduced itself, brought the reader into the community, and established its authority as spiritually wise, the voice begins to paint a picture. As the picture unfolds, however, the voice constantly reminds the listener that he or she is one with the voice. The text is laced with "our," "we," and "us." Out of 39 sentences in this essay, these three words occur 46 times.

Nor is the audience ever allowed to forget that the voice knows the tradition. The second paragraph quotes William Law, an "18th century priest-mystic." It notes that Anglican spirituality is not just incarnational, but "profoundly" incarnational. The voice is attuned to the "profound." In the third paragraph, the voice alludes to one of the rich treasures of the prayer book, its attention to time. The prayer book doesn't just attend to time, it attends "carefully" to time, and the voice is astute enough to recognize when time is treated "carefully." Paragraph four quotes Augustine and Ephesians, paragraph five quotes Psalm 95. Successive paragraphs follow the same pattern. This is wisdom, a voice that knows the tradition in depth and can quote it. The text unfolds in exactly this fashion.

As the essay continues, a picture emerges. Theologically, the picture is the one that I have presented in a prior essay. But the picture is never explicitly described. In fact, I write this essay so the Presiding Bishop's covert perspective can be clearly seen and recognized. Nor does the voice contrast its picture with alternative positions. Just as the reader was not asked to question the wisdom of the voice, nor its being one with the voice, the reader is never invited to compare and judge between the picture of the voice and other pictures that might have claims to truth. Rather, the picture is simply painted in words that can resonate in the soul. Here is another typical paragraph.

Because Jesus Christ is the incarnate and glorified Word of God, fundamental to all spirituality is the capacity and willingness on the part of persons of faith to listen. "Oh that today you would hearken to his voice!" we are counseled in Psalm 95, which is used throughout the Anglican Communion as an Invitatory at Morning Prayer. As each day begins we are invited to listen to the words and events which lie ahead "as those who are taught." [Isaiah 50:4](2)

When most people think of the "incarnate and glorified Word," they think of Jesus of Nazareth, the person they learned about in the Bible. The voice has different ideas. It is not referring to the revelation in Jesus of Nazareth as attested in Scripture. Rather, the text claims that Jesus Christ is incarnate in the "words and events which lie ahead." These "words and events" are the experiences of daily life. Since Jesus is the "glorified Word of God," he is available to all events, able to speak in any and all of them including those that "lie ahead." The voice does not say, "I believe there was an incarnation in Jesus of Nazareth 2,000 years ago, but the real purpose of that incarnation and glorification was to teach us that the risen Christ is incarnate in everything. Therefore, we must attend to our own experience as the source of revelation today. In fact, I have decided that this revelation goes beyond Scripture and in some cases is even 'inconsistent with Scripture.'" Further, the voice could have said, "There are those who disagree with me. This is the essence of their argument and I disagree with them for these particular reasons." Then the reasons could have been given. This approach would challenge the audience to investigate the matter for themselves and reach an opinion based on study and prayer.

The voice doesn't do that. It carries the reader into specific points of view without alerting the reader as to the real content of its perspective. It simply claims that God speaks in the "words and events that lie ahead." This, of course, begs the question as to how revelation in daily life is related to God's revelation in Scripture, or tradition, or reason, or any other source that one might happen to think revelatory. Since real alternatives are passed over in silence, the mind arrives without impediment at the real intent of the words: experience is the way God speaks, and if we listen, we will know that.

In this way, a picture is painted, the reader is drawn into the picture, and thereby defined as one who believes as the voice believes, that experience is the norm for faith. Once again, the voice seeks to bypass the intellect and will, simply content to paint a picture that resonates in the soul of its audience. Further, the voice is consistent with the Presiding Bishop's theological perspective. In his view, we are all one in the risen Christ. In Christ, all differences fade away. Therefore, to erect boundaries, to ask his readers to be for or against his persuasions, to deny the "us," the "we," and the "our," is to deny our unity in Christ. It would be divisive. The Presiding Bishop is inclusive, not divisive. Therefore, he will not define himself over against his readers but include the from the very first word.

Nor does the voice present any evidence from known biblical scholars validating its interpretation of Psalm 95 and Isaiah 50:4. I looked these up in my best commentaries. Psalm 95 is a call to heed the Word of the Lord given in Israel's worship. This Word is the "proclamation of God's commandments as the order of his covenant..."(3) Psalm 95 does not refer to the "words and events which lie ahead," rather, it refers to God reciting in worship his past saving deeds. Isaiah 50:4 refers to the call of the prophet, to one taught by the Word.(4) The prophetic Word was then proclaimed to the community. That same prophetic Word became incarnate in Jesus Christ and spoke to the apostles. If each and every Christian believes they can supersede the biblical witness of prophets, Christ, and apostles by hearing that Word directly in the events and circumstances of life, then each and every Christian is equivalent to Jesus Christ, the apostles, and the prophets.

This raises a question that goes to the heart of the Presiding Bishop's covert theology. Is Jesus Christ attested in Scripture the prophetic Word one must hear and obey, or is Scripture simply a record of how Jesus and the prophets heard the Word in their lives, showing us how to hear a very different Word in our day as we listen to the events and circumstances of life? Or, is Jesus a symbol for who we are, our own interpreters of truth, our own justifiers, and our own mediators, or is he our truth, our justifier, and our mediator? Is he us? or is he not us?

More could be said on the voice, although the conclusion is clear enough. The voice never directly exposes its own claims to wisdom. It does not ask if the reader wants to be united with the voice and its conclusions. It never contrasts its truth with other alternatives. It avoids conscious choices for its audience. It only enchants and seduces, seeking to bypass the intellect and will, giving only immediate impressions and appealing only to feeling. In short, it is insidious.

Where did all this come from? Where will it go? How could we let ourselves be led away to such an ignominious end? The Episcopal Church has been, and is, a church that is proud of its learning, its culture, and its wisdom. For years we have felt superior to our "morally rigid" brothers and sisters. We take pride in our religion of good taste. We look down on those who proselytize. We scorn the happy-clappy. We are sophisticated. We are educated. We are not ignorant and foolish. As a result, God has allowed us, steadily, surely, and without recompense, to remake ourselves in the image of our disdain.

Endnotes

1. Essay on Anglican Spirituality.
2. Essay on Anglican Spirituality.
3. Arthur Weiser, The Psalms. A Commentary. Translated from the German by Herbert Hartwell. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1962, p. 627.
4. Westermann, Claus. ISAIAH 40-66. The Old Testament Library. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1969, p. 229.

The Rev. Robert J. Sanders, Ph.D.
robertsanders@iglide.net
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