On the Feast of the Holy Trinity in 1991, six priests from the Diocese of Maryland published The Baltimore Declaration, an eight-page apologia on behalf of "the evangelical, apostolic and catholic witness" that they claimed was subject to a "thoroughgoing revision" within the Episcopal Church.

Beginning with a context-setting preamble, the document addressed seven points: the unique and definitive revelation of God in Jesus Christ; the threat of "monism," that is, the blurring of the distinction between creator and created order; the possibility that Jesus is but one divine revelation among many; the possibility of salvation outside of the "atoning death and resurrection of Jesus Christ"; errors concerning the proper relationship between Judaism and Christianity; the orthodox understanding of God as Father; and, finally, the authority of scripture itself.

The late '80s and early '90s were heady times in the Episcopal Church - or at least busy ones! Prayer Book Studies 30 was in circulation and diocesan and parish committees were looking hard (and occasionally askance) at the language of the supplemental liturgies. General Convention had asked local dioceses to study human sexuality, and many of us plunged headlong into a little-known realm of scientific and psychological research, especially with respect to questions of homosexuality.

There was much energy and enthusiasm evident in all of these efforts, and considerable excitement about seeing how a rapidly changing culture could open up new understandings of God. At the same time, to many the church felt like a cyclist hurtling downhill with hands off the handlebars. Where, in all of these efforts, were the steadfast traditions of the church, the authoritative witness of scripture, or even human reason, carefully shaped and guided by the other two? Such was the milieu out of which The Baltimore Declaration emerged.

The declaration drew a wide variety of responses from all quarters of the Episcopal Church. Some dismissed it out of hand, suggesting that Anglicans didn't do "confessional theology." Others said, "Hallelujah! It's about time somebody stood up and said something." That fall's annual clergy conference of the Diocese of Maryland was devoted almost in its entirety to debate with the authors about the declaration. Some 18 months later, Ephraim Radner and George Sumner collected essays on matters relating to the declaration and published them in Reclaiming Faith: Essays on Orthodoxy in the Episcopal Church and the Baltimore Declaration.

Five years later, few in Baltimore talk about the declaration. Asked what they remember most about the declaration, many of my colleagues describe a "political incident" rather than a theological call to action. The support group which brought the six priests together still meets, but it has changed. One has left the Episcopal Church and is now a priest in the Antiochian Orthodox Church. Two others have recently left the diocese in response to calls to new ministries. During the early stages of the conversation about the declaration, Maryland clergy became aware of how difficult it was to talk with each other about important questions, much to our embarrassment. So despite its promise of sparking significant dialogue, it would not take much, at this point, for the Baltimore Declaration to fade into the footnotes of our church's history.

That would be a shame for two major reasons. First, the seven issues that the document raised are worth thinking and talking about. It seems too obvious to point out that they raise difficult questions. But time spent on them can yield significant results.

For example, I must admit that I was amused by the declaration's concern with monism. However, the implication that we recall and take seriously the "classic" heresies caused me to pay more attention to what I have been hearing from parishioners. No monism, but a lot of pelagianism of the sort that many of us hear at hospital bedsides: "I've tried to be a good person ... God knows that, right?" My preaching has changed significantly as a result.

Or again, the declaration reminds us to pay attention to our language about God. No one I know has tried seriously to claim that God is female (any more than any traditional theologian ever rigorously held that God was male), but many are now more aware of feminine qualities that have been previously passed over, in both our liturgical and our homiletical imagery. Having listened to many sermons on a recent sabbatical leave, I am sure that simply substituting the noun "God" for the pronouns "he," "his," or "him" isn't enough. That ultimately may mean less sleep on Saturday nights as sermons are more carefully crafted, but better preaching on Sunday mornings.

Second, there are, I believe, a couple of important lessons to be learned from our experience with the declaration. One has to do with trust, which we discovered is not a given among clergy in a large diocese, much to our chagrin. The word "repudiate" appears 15 times in the highlighted sections of the declaration, which make it seem (in an atmosphere of suddenly evident mistrust) as if the document was intended more to declare condemnation than inspire conversation.

The other point has to do with the venue where our theological disagreements are played out. It may be argued that the single most important cause of the concern which led to the declaration was the defeat in 1990 of a diocesan convention resolution proclaiming our belief that "Jesus is the way, the truth and the life." Our habit of doing our theological debating as we would do business, in the context of a convention, in fact probably works against us. We vote for a resolution which is defeated and we cannot help but feel like losers. It took the rich blend of narrative and parable and genealogy and commandment and poetry for God's word to be completely revealed to us. How faithful are we being, then, when we keep trying to boil it down to "whereases" and "be it therefore resolveds"?

My plea is not to let The Baltimore Declaration disappear into history, but to look at it again, drawing whatever wisdom and perspective we have gained since the original publication five years ago. Let me suggest a model for doing so. At least one of the declaration's authors, frustrated at the inappropriateness of the way we have argued and the slow process of encouraging real respect among a large and diverse college of clergy, initiated a dialogue group. It consists of a handful of priests of widely different backgrounds, inclinations and experience who meet together monthly for directed conversations, discussions of books and articles, and community building. There is no long-term agenda, no political or even theological goal. Rather, it has become a haven for inquiry and introspection - and ultimately for trust - for its participants.

If The Baltimore Declaration can inspire such small-group conversations in dioceses throughout this church, it will have contributed more to our unity than any number of convention debates or resolutions. This, I believe, is what its authors hoped for all along. q

The Rev. Mark Gatza is rector of Christ Church, Rock Spring Parish, Forest Hill, Md.