The “Filler” Problem of Ecumenical Christianity.

Introduction: The Dream of "One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic"

Every Sunday, we stand up and recite the Nicene Creed, professing our belief in "one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church." It’s a beautiful sentiment, but if you look at the corner of almost any intersection in Columbia, South Carolina, you’ll see the reality: a Baptist church here, a Methodist church there, a Catholic parish down the road, and our own Episcopal community nearby.

The modern ecumenical movement—the effort to restore visible unity among Christian denominations—began in earnest in the early 20th century. It was born out of a realization that a divided Church is a poor witness to a divided world. However, as the movement has matured, it has encountered a significant obstacle: in our rush to be "one," we are in danger of becoming "nothing."

The "Coffee House" Problem: Flavor vs. Filler

Think about why people love local coffee shops. You might go to one because they have the best dark roast espresso that wakes you up instantly. You might go to another because they make an incredible, foamy lavender latte. Each shop has a "strength"—a specific craft they have perfected over the years.

Now, imagine if an "Ecumenical Coffee Committee" decided that having different shops was too confusing. To create "unity," they forced every shop to stop selling their unique brews and instead serve one single, lukewarm, medium-roast "Community Blend."

In the world of coffee, that’s a tragedy. In the world of the Church, we call this "Lowest Common Denominator" theology. One of the major issues with the modern ecumenical movement is that it often seeks unity by stripping away the "flavors" that make each tradition meaningful. Instead of an Anglican bringing the beauty of the liturgy, a Pentecostal bringing the fire of the Spirit, and a Presbyterian bringing the depth of scholarship, we often end up with a "vanilla middle-of-the-road nothingness." We don't get the best of everyone; we get a watered-down version of no one.

The "Organic" vs. "Organizational" Divide

There is a massive difference between Organic Unity and Organizational Unity. For much of the 20th century, the focus was on the latter, merging denominations, creating massive bureaucratic bodies like the World Council of Churches, and signing official "Full Communion" agreements.

The issue is that you can merge two organizations on paper without ever actually uniting the people in the pews. True ecumenism isn't just about bishops signing documents in Geneva or New York; it’s about "the ecumenism of the heart." If we have a common document but we don't pray together, serve the poor together, or recognize Christ in one another, the unity is a legal fiction. Like that "Community Blend" coffee, it appears to convey unity on the label, but it doesn't satisfy the soul.

The Question of Authority: The Episcopal "Ingredient"

In the Episcopal Church, we know that the "Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral" is our baseline for unity. One of those four points is the "Historic Episcopate"—the idea that the office of the Bishop links us back to the Apostles through an unbroken chain of laying on of hands.

When we discuss the "vanilla middle," this is often where the conversation becomes difficult. Many denominations view the office of a Bishop as a helpful administrative role, but they don't see "Apostolic Succession" as essential.

Here is the nuance: we can—and should—work with everyone. We can build houses with Baptists, run soup kitchens with Presbyterians, and pray with non-denominational groups. We are brothers and sisters in Christ. However, we cannot have Full Communion (meaning our clergy can't simply swap pulpits or celebrate the Eucharist at each other's altars) if that Historic Episcopate is missing. For us, the Bishop isn't just a manager; they are the "connective tissue" to the ancient Church. If we treat that as optional just to make a deal work, we haven't achieved unity; we've just thrown away one of the most vital "flavors" we were meant to bring to the table.