Do the traditional Anglican categories of "high church," "low church" and "broad church" still mean anything?

While to newcomers to the Episcopal Church, the high/low/broad categories suggest a valuable range of theological possibilities, elements of Christian identity are shifting.

Basic questions of belief versus unbelief have replaced intra-church disputes. "Is there a God?" is a much more common question asked by those who are looking for spiritual strength than, "Is this a low church?" In this era of independent megachurches and weak denominational identification, it's not surprising that labels of groups within a denomination seem less and less important.

One sign of the decline of the labels is their apparent irrelevance to episcopal elections. Party distinctions were hardly mentioned in the 1997 Diocese of New York selection of a bishop coadjutor [TLC, May 17]; nor did they seem to play a prominent role in last year's election of a new Presiding Bishop.

And these categories appear to have little attraction to the person in the pew. Do people join a parish because of its churchmanship? Some will seek out Anglo-Catholic liturgy; others will favor evangelical preaching; and still others look for a church in the middle. But most lay people seem to choose a parish with a strong commitment to social action, or one near home, one with social prestige, rather than a parish with a particular churchmanship.

We Anglicans also could ask if we would really be happier in a church in which parties were more influential. Would a stronger sense of party spirit, for example, or a more confident idea of where "the church" in all its complexity should be moving, make for a more energetic and faithful witness? Or would the party spirit fracture the church more than it already is? (Labels after all have a tendency to become unsavory epithets; "labelling" in itself is hardly a desirable practice.)

Do those who identify with one of the traditional groupings bring a deeper vision to the church? Do they present the fruits of diversity? Or do they put themselves in a clear, well-ordered corner and thereby cut themselves off from a wider involvement in the catholic church?

Of course, the problem of classification isn't new. Anglicans have always, by virtue of our vaunted "comprehensiveness" spanning many groups and factions, had identity problems. Nineteenth-century Bishop of Massachusetts Phillips Brooks was regarded as a leader of the broad church movement, yet a friend reported him saying, "I have never been really a broad churchman at all."

Yet even in our modern, eclectic age, there are still cases where the labels mark valuable distinctions. An Anglo-Catholic priest from the Diocese of Fond du Lac will have different ecclesiastical interests and liturgical style from a Virginia low churchman or woman. Liberal Episcopal Divinity School graduates hold many views which are distinct from those of conservative evangelical clergy trained at Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry. Behind the strong party identity lie different understandings of the Anglican tradition.

And while the high/low/broad (and Anglo-Catholic/evangelical/liberal) classifications need to be supplemented by other categories, the old terms encourage philosophical openness in the church. Ethnic or gender identity is exclusive; anyone can share the beliefs and practices of ecclesiastical subgroups. I may find it difficult to identify personally with groups that further women's rights - even if I agree with them philosophically - because I am not a woman. But if I want to consider myself an evangelical, there is nothing to stop me.

And since the old classifications indicate general tendencies in Anglicanism and Christianity, perhaps they will survive when the goals of special purpose groups are reached and the groups disappear. Women's caucuses may be deemed superfluous when women are granted an equal share in the governance of the church. High church partisans who like formal, transcendent worship, by contrast, may always have to defend their tradition. To heirs of the Oxford Movement, questions of authority and governance, of church and state, of teaching and morality, remain as critical today as they were in Victorian England.

By the same token, those who share the evangelical devotion to biblically grounded doctrine and Spirit-filled worship will want to preserve these values in the church of the future. And Anglicans who champion progressive causes and theological innovation in the broad church tradition will want to resist any reactionary tendencies that arise in their church.

We might even predict that the new ethnic and gender categories will serve to refine the old classifications and give them additional new life. After all, feminist evangelicals already differ from feminist Anglo-Catholics in ecclesiastical style and doctrinal interest.

Of course, the party labels will likely sink or swim on their own, whatever we think of their intrinsic value. Another possibility, though, is that the categories will evolve, denoting roughly similar ecclesiastical territory, but with differences which reflect new times.

One might predict, then, that the old broad church classification will evolve into the progressive church of the future. Bishop John Spong [TLC, May 17] is an example of a church figure who fits neither Anglo-Catholic nor evangelical camp; it is also unrevealing simply to call him a "liberal." Bishop Spong tries to interpret the traditional gospel in the language and thought of the best modern science, philosophy and biblical scholarship. One need not agree with what he writes to acknowledge someone who follows, for better or worse, in the tradition of Phillips Brooks.

The progressive-intellectual strand in Anglicanism might also be reflected in theologians who comment on the relationship of post-modern culture and the philosophy of science. British theologian John Polkinghorne would be an example of someone whose reflections on faith and the sciences could be seen as continuing the broad church tradition.

So, too, the evangelical movement may be gaining new life in the renewal movement, following the lead of the English church, where many of the old evangelicals were dramatically "renewed" by charismatic prayer and informal music.

As for the Anglo-Catholics, one might speculate that Anglo-Catholicism has largely gone from being a sect within the larger Episcopal Church to "standard Episcopalian." The Eucharist as the central act of Episcopal worship, high ceremonial and vestments and many catholic customs, such as calling male priests "Father," have all spread to the larger church. Some Anglo-Catholics have complained that there are few ideals left for them to fight for as a party.

It probably would not be a surprise, however, if these three movements weren't found in some recognizable form in the Anglican church of the future. They represent enduring spiritual strengths in our heritage. More than styles of worship, the party labels refer to religious truths we will want to retain.

Upholding the value of worship; seeking the guidance of scripture; developing new theology in response to old traditions - all of these are essential elements of almost any Christian group. We may reasonably expect these aspects of faith to continue, whatever happens, in the unfolding future life of the church of God.

The Rev. J. Douglas Ousley is the rector of the Church of the Incarnation, New York City.