A Bishop's Blog
Shielded by Great Wisdom
Hello, friends.
Sorry I haven't written for a while - for a while there everything was going smoothly but unremarkably, and I didn't want to write just the sake of writing. Now I'm at the Lambeth Conference in Canterbury, England, and my difficulty is at the other end of things: so many things are happening, so many sights, so many impressions - it's been somewhat overwhelming, and will probably take me a while to sort it all out. But maybe you'll be interested in a few thoughts.
First, the people. I've met a lot of people, from all over the world. There are about 650 bishops here, many of them with their spouses, and a huge number of people working to keep the conference running well. Every single person I have met and spoken with has been nice to me. I've met a couple of the Bishops that I've read about on the internet, people who've taken one extreme position or another, and they were polite and gracious as well. We're just four nights into it, but I'm really encouraged that the atmosphere is joyful and loving. There are a variety of opinions and assumptions here, disagreements about things important to our Church. But for now, our emphasis has been on those things we all hold in common: the grace and love of our Lord Jesus Christ.
We spent the first two and a half days in a retreat led by Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was incredibly well done. He is a remarkable speaker, and encouraged us to realize the need we all have to worship and serve from within community.
Today we went to the Cathedral in Canterbury for Sunday worship. It was a most impressive service, but before I write about that, I want to tell you that in the streets on our way from the busses into the Cathedral, there were people holding signs condemning the Anglican Church. It was hard to tell exactly what their concern was; most of them involved long quotes from the Book of Revelation, or from Ezekiel. One woman had a hand puppet of a dragon, signifying the Beast (I thought it was an alligator, but a friend later enlightened me) who kept saying over and over in an eerie voice: "You are already in my belly." Another sign said "Woe to those who are at peace at Lambeth." This was my first time to encounter this sort of thing, and I have to tell you that it really bothered me, sort of weighed me down. They weren't asking us to change our minds, or repent of any evil, they were just condemning us. I assumed they were upset about The Episcopal Church and homosexuality, but actually it had more to do with The Church of England's recent decision to allow for the ordination of women as Bishops. Whatever their justification, their behavior seemed to me to be filled with hate, and it was disturbing.
All those bishops plus a variety of ecumenical visitors and assorted dignitaries made for a profoundly impressive (and long!) procession. Bishop Parsley has written a great description of the service in his greeting from Lambeth on the Diocesan website, and I hope will have already read that. It's enough for me to say that the whole service was very meaningful, rich, and beautiful: and a highlight of my life in the Church. And then it was time to go back to the busses, back through the protestors.
Even I know better than to engage the protestors in conversation, but I really wanted to do more than just endure them. I didn't want to make them angrier, but I didn't want to disregard them as if they were less than human. It occurred to me that I could write something on the inside of my service booklet and show it to them without saying anything, and that wouldn't actually be engaging them. But I didn't want to judge them for having the opinions they have ...
I couldn't remember the chapter and verse, so I just ascribed it to its source. As I walked back to the busses, I felt shielded by great wisdom:
Judge not, lest ye be judged. - Jesus.
The Gift of Joy and Wonder
Hello, friends.
I spent a night last week at Wonderful Camp McDowell for the annual Diocesan Council retreat. It’s really a good group, and we had a good time. We had a great dinner, a lively program and a fun conversation afterwards around the fire in Stough Lodge.
Later, when everyone else had gone to bed, I walked outside to enjoy one of the last cool evenings before our long blistering summer begins, and to see the moon and the stars. The sky at Camp on a clear night is worth the drive, no matter where you live.
First I found the Big Dipper; I was reassured to find it right where it’s supposed to be. Then as I was looking for Orion’s Belt, the only other celestial feature I know to look for, a meteorite blazed its way through our atmosphere. I saw it for just two or three seconds before it disappeared, but in that moment it filled my imagination, and left me to wonder.
I wondered where it came from, and wondered where it went; I wondered how many millions of miles or years it might have come before I saw the end of its journey on this planet, in this country, at this moment on a cool clear evening in Alabama. I wondered if anyone else was up after midnight to witness its fiery passing.
I waited and watched for another, but none came. I turned my wonder to consider all those other stars whose names I do not know, and wondered how far those lights had come to catch my eye. I was reminded of how little I know, and remembered again in the vastness of the night how very small I am.
We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen. We are tempted in this empirical age, with all our counting and measuring and naming, to pretend that “all that is” is what we see and know. This allows us to imagine and pretend that we are in control, which is the original and perhaps the only sin. Remember the wily serpent’s temptation to Eve, “you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
We need to remember to look up in wonder. We need to thank Almighty God that we are not in control, and trust God to care for Creation, accepting our role as God’s stewards. We need to give thanks for what we do know, what we understand, and what we believe, and we need to realize that God, “for whom all places are here and all times are now” * is infinitely beyond our limited understanding.
I invite you to pay special attention the next time your parish has a Baptism, to that beautiful prayer on page 308, in which we ask God to give those just baptized “an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.”
Come again among us, Holy Spirit of God, blow from the four corners of the earth and from beyond our understanding and imagination, and baptize us anew with the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.
+Kee
* A favorite saying from the late Mr. Paul Nielsen, of St. Thomas in Huntsville, a dear friend and patient teacher.
Dogwood Faith
March 26, 2008
Hello, friends.
I have to admit that I didn't really think so many people would read this thing. And who knew how many of you would e-mail and tell me what you think? Thank you all for reading, and thanks to you who have written to encourage me to keep on blogging. That address again is ksloan@dioala.org; I'll be delighted to hear from you.
So now that I'm standing in this newly invented bully e-pulpit, what do I want to write about? Knowing that you're not going to keep reading if I don't have anything to say, what can I say that will be of any value to any of us?
As I write this on the Wednesday morning after Easter, the thermometer says it's only 46 degrees outside. Easter was so early this year, there's as much winter in the air as there is spring. But the dogwoods know; they're blooming right on schedule. Some of the other trees and flowers are starting to catch up, but the dogwoods just know, somehow. And we know it, too, as surely as we know anything - spring is here, or getting close. Even without overwhelming evidence, we know it to be true, and our hearts echo the beautiful words of the Song of Solomon: "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past." (Song of Solomon 2:10-11)
What I want to say, and what I want for us all to believe, is that our beloved Episcopal Church, beleaguered and bedraggled as it sometimes seems, is going to be fine. Even without overwhelming evidence, I invite you to live in the faith of dogwoods and know it to be true. Let your hearts and minds find assurance in our Savior's words from the Gospel of John: "If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever." (John 14:15-16) "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 15:12) What I want to say, in this column and with all of my life, with all my heart and soul, is that our calling as followers of Jesus Christ is to love God, and to love each other as Jesus loves us.
Yes, we have issues to deal with in the Episcopal Church. I've only been an Episcopalian for all of my 52 years, but it seems to me like we've always had issues to deal with; it's the way we're set up. Anglicanism was conceived in controversy, and born in compromise; we always have some issue or another we need to address. We'll deal with the current controversy, not because we're particularly clever, but because this is God's Church, and God will not abandon us. As long as we love each other, we have not abandoned God, and God will send the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to be with us for ever. The current difficulty seems more bitter than other disputes, and the extremes seem farther apart, which I believe means that we need to rely on our faith in God all the more.
You and I are not called to be correct. We're not called to serve on any committee that excludes any person from the Kingdom of God. We're not called to anger, division, spite, shame or gloom. You and I are called to faith, hope, and joy. We are called in love, by Love, to love. Jesus' new commandment is that we love each other, whether the others we love deserve it or not.
It's Easter! Alleluia, Christ is risen! It's springtime, just look at the dogwoods! Lent is over, praise God, and the winter is past. Arise, my friends, beloved of God, and rejoice!
+Kee
From the House of Bishops
March 9, 2008
Your bishops are at Camp Allen in Texas. Not just Henry and me, almost all of the bishops of the Episcopal Church are here. It’s not what I expected.
Actually I’m not sure what I expected – what would you expect from a meeting of the House of Bishops? It wouldn’t be too severe a stretch of your imagination to expect contentiousness, rancor, or bickering; that’s what you might expect if you believe what you read on the internet (as you are doing right now …) Or you might expect, and I confess this was probably part of my expectation, that you’d find a bunch of stuffy, snooty and numbingly serious old guys. In truth, there may be some folks like that here, but I haven’t run across them yet. Actually it turns out bishops are mostly just people after all, with all the range of personalities and gifts and needs that we all have. Some of them are more fun than others, some of them talk too much and don’t listen enough, some of them are outgoing, some of us are a little shy, but all of us are just people.
What I have found, and what to my relief I’m glad to say I’m a part of, is a community of people brought together by the love of our God in the grace of Jesus Christ, and bound to each other by a deep mutual love and concern for our Church. There’s been a great amount of respect, affection and compassion, but no anger, no harsh words, no posturing, nothing juicy or scandalous for people to be upset about.
Almost all of the bishops are here, but not all. Four or five of those who feel their voices are not heard are not here to try again. There is pain here, and a sense of loss, and sadness. I’ve never met the bishops who aren’t here, but I get the sense that we are less full, less rich, less whole without them. I hope the broken trust can be restored, and that those bishops will come back and take their places in this community where they belong.
There is also a very strong sense of hope for our church, and what seems to me to a recovering of the mission of the church, an impatience to be getting on with what our Lord has called us to do. And there is faith here, too, faith underlying all of it that God is among us, working wonders in and through our people; still empowering us, still challenging us, and still moving among us in this part of Christ’s Church.
We talk about the unity of our Church strengthened by our diversity, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such diversity in a group of people bound so closely together. It’s like getting the kind of assortment of people you’d see waiting at a big airport to all come together for a few days to share worship and conversation and meals and laughter and tears, and finding out that you were somehow all related the whole time, even though some of you grew up far away, in different parts of the country, in very different cultures.
We’ve talked about the upcoming Lambeth Conference, about dealing with the press, and about reconciliation as an act of faithfulness. Today is Sunday, and we’re enjoying a lazy morning before coming together for Eucharist at 10. All of these people are well accustomed to traveling on Sunday mornings to make their visitations, so it’s a treat for them to enjoy an extra cup of coffee before we walk over to the Chapel in a few minutes. I’m new around here, and not weary of the traveling, but I’m never opposed to lazing around with a cup of coffee.
So… my education continues. I’m learning a lot, and I have more to learn than I knew. But I’m glad to be here, and I’m not sure I would have been able to say that a week ago.
+Kee
P.S. Just because I know some of you would like to know, so far I’ve won $4.35 in two nights of poker.
Learning Something New
February 27, 2008
Today I'm starting to learn something new. Deacon Dave Drachlis is teaching a bunch of us about the internet and making websites. Just between you and me, everybody in this room knows a good bit more about computers, PDF's, hyperlinks and HTML and such than I do, but slowly, step by tiny step, I'm learning. Whether we like it or not, whether we're computer-savvy or not, this is the direction the world is moving, and I don't want to be left out completely.
There are two things I want to say about all this. The first is that I'm aware that I'm an old dog trying to learn a new trick. Actually I'm spending a lot of time learning new things: how to get from day to day without my wife's help (file this as yet another example of not fully appreciating what we have until we no longer have it); how to get where I'm going without being run over by Birmingham traffic; and how to do all this Bishop stuff the way it's supposed to be done (the way Bishop Parsley does it.) I am greatly aided in all of this learning by a deep and abiding recognition that I have a lot to learn. I've been blessed for a long time with the realization that I shouldn't really take myself too seriously, so I'm not at all shy about admitting it when I need help, or when I don't know what I'm doing. It's been a useful and helpful attitude, and I recommend it.
The second thing is that I am increasingly aware of the need for effective and timely communication from sources we feel like we can trust. It occurs to me that I will be going to several meetings of the House of Bishops, the Lambeth Conference in England and the General Convention in California in the next year and a half or so, and it might be of some value if I could post some thoughts and images from my adventures on this site. If it's not helpful to you, or if you don't like it, I'll assume you won't read it. But my hope is that I'll be able to use this technology to share some thoughts and impressions as events are unfolding, to bring you along in this way, and open a window into some of the places you are sending me.
One more thing: I really have a hard time with the idea of one-way communication. I'm always so thankful when people tell me what they think about something I've said or written. Obviously I love it when people agree, when they find something meaningful or helpful in a sermon I've preached or a column I've written, but it's also very valuable to me when people give me their opinions or ideas that are different from my own. (See paragraph #2 above: "I have a lot to learn.") So, in keeping with the high-tech theme of this article, if you have something for me, please e-mail me at ksloan@dioala.org. I'm assured that I'll be able to check my e-mail anywhere in the world, although I admit I'll be more able to believe it after I've seen it...
I hope your Lenten observance is meaningful to you, and helps you to come not only to the Cross on Good Friday but also to the Empty Tomb beyond.
God's Peace,
+Kee
