Can the Diocese of SC Vote on Glasspool?

Recent, fervent comments from Kendall Harmon and Mike Malone make me wonder: Can the bishop and Standing Committee of the Diocese of South Carolina vote on consent to Bishop-Elect Glasspool and still remain within their canons?

You will recall that the Diocese of South Carolina voted on this resolution – offered by its Standing Committee and Deans – back in October:

Resolution #2
Subject: Second Guiding Principle for Engagement
“Godly Boundaries”
Offered by: The Standing Committee and Deans
Whereas the governing bodies of The Episcopal Church have failed to operate within the boundaries of its canons and continued participation in such behavior would make the Diocese of South Carolina complicit in this dysfunction, be it
Resolved that this Diocese authorize the Bishop and Standing Committee to begin withdrawing from all bodies of the Episcopal Church that have assented to actions contrary to Holy Scripture, the doctrine, discipline and worship of Christ as this church has received them, the resolutions of the Lambeth Conference which have expressed the mind of the Communion, the Book of Common Prayer and our Constitution and Canons, until such bodies show a willingness to repent of such actions; and be it
Further resolved that the Diocese of South Carolina declares that the most recent example of this behavior, in the passage of Resolutions DO25 and CO56, to be null and void, having no effect in this Diocese, and in violation of our diocesan canon (XXXVI sec.1).

I have searched all over that diocese’s site, and I cannot find a final, passed version of that resolution. But I seem to recall they passed it. Correct me if I’m wrong.

If they indeed passed this resolution, withdrawing from all bodies of TEC, how can they vote on any action of the Episcopal Church, including the election of Bishop-Elect Glasspool?

For Whom Can the Presiding Bishop Speak?

I was generally pleased with the Presiding Bishop's statement on the proposed legislation in Uganda that would extend the anti-homosexuality laws to include capital punishment for some homosexuals and prison terms for those who advocate human rights for LGBTs. I am glad she spoke out against this law that has been roundly condemned by all human rights advocates on the left and many on the “right.”

But this troubles me a bit: Now I read (from Episcopal News Service) that “The release of Jefferts Schori's statement was followed shortly by an announcement that a request for a Dec. 7 teleconference meeting of the church's Executive Council had been ‘withdrawn’ by the members who signed a petition in mid-November asking for a meeting ‘regarding the urgent human rights situation in Uganda.’”

Our elected members of the Executive Council are withdrawing their petition, so they won't meet and won't issue a statement on behalf of our church.

When I read the Presiding Bishop's statement, I was jarred by her use of "we think" and "we believe" and "we regret." Maybe I flunked Episcopal Catechism 101, but I didn't realize we had a Primate who was authorized to speak unilaterally of behalf of our whole church. I thought only the Roman Catholics had that. I thought we had General Convention and Executive Council to speak on behalf of all of us. I seem to recall Mark Harris wrote powerfully on just this point fairly recently.

Today, Mark seems happy that our Presiding Bishop spoke unilaterally on this matter. In fact, he tags his essay: “The Episcopal Church speaks on the question of the Uganda anti-gay bill.” But The Episcopal Church has not spoken. Our Executive Council has not spoken. Only Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori has spoken. Or so it seems to me.

Thanks be to God, our Presiding Bishop has spoken words that I appreciate. But she does not have the weight of the Episcopal Church behind her. She spoke in her own, solitary voice. Her voice is certainly louder than mine, probably louder than that of the Executive Council, and it will be carried by more news media. But, in fact, her voice represents only one vote, as does mine. When our Presiding Bishop speaks in her voice, she speaks in only one voice – not with the full voice of our whole church, and she lacks the backing of our whole church as the Executive Council might have expressed it.

I rejoice that she has spoken these words against the Ugandan legislation. But I regret that she has therein silenced the voice of our Executive Council – the true “voice” that could actually speak on behalf of our whole church. Only the Executive Council can speak on behalf of all the laypeople, priests, deacons, and bishops of our church. Apparently, they have fallen down in front of our Presiding Bishop, now that she has issued her personal statement. In that, I believe they have failed in their duty as our representative voices. I regret that they are so easily cowed.

So I'll take a minority view which will probably be unpopular: I am glad to see KJS's comment. But I do not believe she has the authority to speak unilaterally for all of us, and I don't believe she's entitled to speak in the "we" voice she appropriated; only our General Convention or Executive Council have the right to speak on behalf of our church.

Thus, I am very disappointed to hear that the Executive Council members have cancelled their teleconference Monday. It seems to me that our Presiding Bishop can only speak for herself. Only the Executive Council can speak for all of us. Apparently, they have cancelled their Monday meeting, choosing to believe that our Presiding Bishop’s statement is good enough.

It is indeed good.

But it is not good enough.

Our Presiding Bishop is not an Archbishop. I don’t believe our Constitution and Canons allow her to speak on behalf of The Episcopal Church.

So why is our Executive Council canceling their meeting??

That's my paltry -- and probably minority -- view. I stand willing to be corrected. What am I missing here?

Addendum (12/5/09): I strongly encourage you to visit Father Jake's blog, where he has some good analysis, then good dialogue with some members of our Executive Council. What appears at his blog tracks some conversations I've had with Executive Council members. I am now content.

Advent of the Grinch

A Story in Three Acts

Scene 1: On Thursday morning, Thanksgiving Day, I was listening to my local NPR affiliate. They air the odious "Marketplace" program the last 10 minutes of each hour. Marketplace had some story/report, in which they characterized Thanksgiving Day as "the official start of the holiday season." Obviously, those people have no sense of what “holidays” and “holy days” are about.

Scene 2: On Friday, November 27, I went to a local grocery store. As I came out, the Salvation Army bell ringer greeted me with a cheery, "Merry Christmas!" I nearly froze in my steps. I wanted to turn on him with a snarl and counter, "It's not even Advent yet, asshole -- much less Christmas!" I didn't, of course. Most Americans don't even know what Advent is. They don't have a clue about the liturgical seasons. So I let it pass. But I deeply resent the American rush into the commercial Christmas.

Scene 3: Sunday morning, as I was getting ready for church, I heard the radio report that people in the U.S. had spent $10.2 billion -- 10.2 billion dollars -- on "Black Friday." Where did that $10.2 billion go? I can't help but think how much food, how many mosquito nets, how many vaccinations it could have purchased.

If you've been reading my blog over the years, you will recognize that I enter something like this funk every year. I respect and long for the peace that Advent affords us, as a contrast to the American Frenzy of Good Cheer between Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. Yet again, I have entered that season where I commute between Grinchville and the Longing for Peace.

In our parish newsletter, just received this week, our rector offered a marvelous message. Here are some pullouts from her message:

Perhaps we may treat Advent as a season when time is relished as a gift from God -- a gift to be savored and appreciated, rather than one to be squandered or hurtled through in frenzy.

and

Preparing for birth is a deliberate exercise -- it calls for intention, and dedication of time and effort. It calls for a focus which can only be cultivated when one is rested and refreshed. My hope for each of you this Advent is that you will slow down in order to engage in holy anticipation.

Obviously, slowing down for holy anticipation will be a seriously counter-cultural exercise!

I also suspect my response has to do with the fact that our diocesan missioners are currently in Lui – and that half my heart and spirit are with them. They are blogging here and here. The people of Lui are never more than a heartbeat away from my mind and my recollection of the time I spent there. It makes me humble about our experience in the U.S.

Thanksgiving Journal

I’ve already blogged about my Thanksgiving thoughts and why I wanted to do it differently this year. Indeed, I did. But it took me a few days to dwell with my thoughts before I could blog about it. Finally, four days after the event, I am ready to talk about it. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful.

This will be long and meandering. Feel free to skip over it.

I did spend my Thanksgiving serving people here at the Salvation Army. For all the reasons I’ve written already, I didn’t visit my sister and her family, nor did I opt to spend the day alone. And you’ll recall that our Episcopal parish has chosen to partner with the Salvation Army in the coming year – never mind our vast differences.

The day was a great blessing. I intend to do this again. We all know St. Frances’ prayer that “It is in giving that we receive.” Thursday, I experienced it, rather than just saying the words.

I must first say that Salvation Army here could do a better job of dispatching and organizing its volunteers. There were too many volunteers who didn’t have assignments. That’s unfortunate, and they need to fix it. The only thing worse than having a shortage of personnel is having too many with no assignments. But that’s for them to fix.

Now, remember what I have written before: In this town of 40,000, we do not see that we have a “homeless” problem. In this middle-class town, severe poverty is invisible to us.

Arrival

I arrived at the Salvation Army about 9 a.m., as their staff had suggested. I signed-in and got my name tag. There were about 50 people sitting around the dining room … all volunteers waiting for work. I could see many people working hard in the kitchen.

I asked for assignment. I was told to join the “task-less” volunteers … or move into another room where they were organizing meal deliveries. Not being one who likes to sit, I went to the delivery area.

Delivery

I didn’t realize that the Salvation Army also delivers meals. The staging area for this work was inefficient. I’ll spare you the details, and cut to the chase: I got to deliver meals to two families. They could not have been more different.

The first delivery: I knocked and knocked on an apartment door, with no answer. Just before I was about to give up, a man came out from the adjacent apartment, greeted me with a hearty “God bless you!” and popped back inside to find the woman whose name I had. We had a fine exchange. Graceful. Mutual. I left feeling blessed.

Then on to my 2nd delivery. Again, knock-knock-knocking on the door, eventually wondering if anyone would answer. Finally someone did – a young teen. He hollered for the woman while he closed the door on me. She finally came to the door. All full of Thanksgiving cheer and God’s blessings, I happily passed the meals along to her. But another part of me recoiled. This woman looked seriously drugged-out, strung-out, and hopeless. She was a walking skeleton. And she seemed perplexed that I had appeared on her doorstep with food. My heart broke for her on that Thanksgiving Day.

Later, when I returned to the Salvation Army, they explained that sometimes mothers or grandmothers ask for meals to be delivered to their daughters and granddaughters.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that contrast. Clearly, the first family had requested meals, and they blessed me. But that 2nd home will haunt me – a too-young mother in a miserable home with miserable hopelessness in her eyes. It is her eyes that will haunt me.

Respite

I knew the Salvation Army didn’t plan to serve meals until 11:30, and I had finished my rounds. At this point, I was feeling about as useless as tits on a boar.
I went to Starbuck’s – God help me! – for a double tall latte. I hadn’t had good coffee yet, and I was feeling useless.

Back to Salvation Army
I went back, of course. When I returned, there were a great many volunteers standing and sitting around with nothing to do.

Among the volunteers were many families – Mom, Dad, and children. Several of them had been doing this for several years. The parents were teaching their children that this was an important ministry. That impressed me.

The Salvation Army rep greeted us warmly, talked about the importance of our ministry, talked about the importance of our spending time with the people, talked and talked. But I was lurking on the outskirts of the volunteers, asking all of them exactly what we were supposed to do and how we supposed to do it. I wanted to know the logistics – which I did not know – so that I could provide the ministry, which I probably could figure out. But none of my compatriots had served before. They were as clueless as I.

When the Salvation Army rep finished her encouraging remarks, I sidled up beside her, and asked timidly, “That’s all well and good. But what do you want us to DO?”

Many of us were serving in a wholly different venue. We had never been there before. Yes, we understood about ministering to people. But we had no idea about the mundane logistics.

Lesson to Volunteer Coordinators: If you manage to distribute your message and yield a bunch of newbies, please give us tasks!

Serving

The next 3 hours are a blur. I found work to do, without any guidance from the Salvation Army staff. One seasoned veteran volunteers shouted: “We need more rolls!” and pointed me toward the rolls, and I dispensed them. Or the seasoned veterans called, “More desserts!” and I cut more pies and cakes.

God help me, I confess I gravitated toward the behind-the-scenes tasks in the kitchen.

Eventually the “A Team” servers rotated off the hot food serving line and I found myself up front. That was my happiest time. Serving food to the people. Not hiding out behind the lines.

At some point early on, I noticed the size of the servings that my compadres were piling on. Every plate had about twice as much as an average person could consume in a meal. Later, I saw that some few people were coming back, asking for a “to-go plate.” Each “meal” we served could have served two. Another “meal” could have served two more. I was glad we had so much food that we could easily afford to be extravagant with it.

The One Encounter

Eventually, the serving line slowed. The Salvation Army had announced they would serve meals until 2:00 p.m. As I was winding-up my service on the line, one last guy came in.

Until then, I had been up to my eyeballs in chores. Now things had slowed down. I had time to leave my post (where I had served dressing and sweet potatoes onto plates), wash my hands, and have some leisure.

After all the flurry of action and do-gooderism, I wandered out into the dining room and sat down with this guy. We chatted a bit. I didn’t reveal to him how close to homeless-and-starving I was a decade ago. That wasn’t my burden to share with him. We just chatted. As he finished his meal, I asked, “Can I fix you another meal to go? We have oodles of food left.” He demurred. I said, “OK. But I’m taking one for myself.” [And I was. The food was very good!] It broke my heart to see his eyes, looking up, down, casting his chances, weighing his pride. And then he said, “OK. Me too.”

With love, I went back to the serving table to load him up with turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and corn. The same overstuffed plate I had made for myself a few minutes earlier.

I have written here before about how I want to find a ministry, and how inept I feel.

This one exchange with this one man made my day.

It’s the luck of the draw that I had leisure to serve this meal. Not many years ago, I was near homeless myself. Had it not been for generous friends, I would have been homeless and hungry … just like the folks we served Thursday.

TakeAway

Many of the folks with whomI served Thursday have been doing this for several years. Now, I understand why., I expect I, too, will do it again.

It truly is more blessed to give than to receive.

But I bet no one will understand that I received much more than I gave last Thursday.

Episcopal Organs

Episcopal organs have been much in the news lately, and I am glad.

The latest story is here. It focuses on the parish that is my home away from home, Trinity in the Central West End of St. Louis.

They have a marvelous organ, which has caught the attention of the St. Louis newspaper. I have heard this organ, and say a hearty Amen! to the columnist.

Bishop Smith on Mission

I am grateful to my Bishop, Wayne Smith, for his leadership, his vision, and who he is. I have spent many pixels trying to explain why our relationship with the Diocese of Lui (Sudan) matters. But Bishop Smith nails it here!

He published an article in the November/December issue of Seek, which I commend to all of you. I'm reprinting it here. But go to Seek for all the photos that accompany his essay.

This Practice of Mission

This November, two missioners from the Blackmore Vale Deanery in Salisbury, U.K., will join nine missioners from Missouri as we travel to Lui Diocese. We depart St. Louis the day after Diocesan Convention, and I am trying to remain calm in the face of countless details that a convention and a mission trip both require.

The Diocese of Salisbury, in the Church of England, has been in relationship with the entire Episcopal Church of Sudan for thirty-six years. In fact, when Salisbury began a partnership with Sudan, there was a single diocese encompassing the whole country. Now there are twenty-eight dioceses in a rapidly growing Sudanese Church. Salisbury’s long experience with Sudan will no doubt enrich Missouri’s own partnership with Lui. There are nineteen deaneries in the Diocese of Salisbury; Blackmore Vale seeks to focus its own mission with Lui, where there is certainly enough work for everybody who wants to join in. Would that more of God’s people would join in! It is obvious to me that a third Anglican partner could strengthen the bonds of communion during a season when these bonds are under a lot of stress.

It has been said that mission is to the life of the Church as flame is to the life of a fire. Without the flame, there is no fire. We cannot dissect one from the other. How would we describe a fire without a flame? So it is with Church and mission.

The very practice of mission produces more energy than it consumes. This seems counter-intuitive but data show that churches engaged in mission have a more robust spirituality, are more engaged in worship, are more adept in welcoming new people, and are more likely to be in good health. This formula works for large churches and small, and it is quantifiable. Mission enhances spirituality and learning, which in turn enhance worship, which in turn makes the community both more authentic and inviting, which in turn gives the community the courage to engage in mission.

Lui Diocese cannot be the only venue for the work of mission in our own Diocese. And let me be clear that only a few handfuls of Missourians will ever have the privilege—and the challenge—of journeying to Sudan. It is a long and expensive journey and living conditions there are physically demanding on Westerners. But it is well worth doing.

Our friends and colleagues in Lui cherish the time we spend there with them, so much so that it is humbling. They had felt very much alone, forgotten, and cut off from Christian friendship during twenty-one years of war (ending in 2005). They never fail to express gratitude to God that we have come to stand with them.

Whatever little bit of material aid we can contribute to development leverages great change for good. The wells we have helped to drill in Lui Diocese have increased the quality of life, increased it beyond my own ability to imagine. The Moru people (the name of the tribe living in Lui) are more than eager to learn—education having been nearly impossible during the war—and any expertise we might share is gratefully received. It needs not be profound expertise to make a difference, and education is a focus for our November trip.

The exchange of Christian faith between two vastly different cultures helps both to hear the gospel more clearly. It always seems to me that Missourians are the greater beneficiaries in this economy of grace.

It is clear to me that no one can go to Sudan without being changed. Every missioner I have known makes this clear. But mission of any sort works the same way with us. Herein lies the great grace for the missioner, and for the church who engages in mission, it changes us. It transforms us. It converts us. And for this reason I yearn for every believer to have the chance for hands-on mission, far off or near—or both.

The greater missional value for our partnership with Lui and, potentially, with Blackmore Vale, does not end with whatever good we might accomplish in Sudan. Such practice in mission will open our eyes to what is perhaps more difficult to see, the need and possibility for engaging in mission right here in Missouri. Are we so accustomed to what we see in our own neighborhoods that we fail to take notice?

The work of mission for Missouri Episcopalians is not just in Lui. It is in Lui and St. Louis City. Or it is in Lui and in the Bootheel. Or it is in Lui and in the Ozarks. Or it is in Lui and in the locale of wherever you live and worship.

Work that is far off and stark, but full of joy, can open our eyes to see possibilities at home—possibilities which may be stark but also brimming over with the likelihood of joy.

The Rt. Rev. George Wayne Smith
Tenth Bishop of Missouri

Thanksgiving in a Different Key

As part of the Stewardship Campaign this year, the leaders of our parish decided to focus on two new ventures. They identified a new internal ministry: ministry to young families. And they opted to focus our energies on one external mission: to our local Salvation Army. I’m grateful they gave us this focus.

The mission focus strikes me as funny, in some ways. The Salvation Army must be as far as far can be from Episcopal liturgy and theology. But the Salvation Army here has the only homeless shelter in town, the only regular food ministry in our community. Our parish built a prayer garden on their grounds a couple years ago. This year, with support from our diocese, we built a playground for the children who live in their facility. So the vestry is building on a relationship that we have built slowly, and it feels right (if slightly incongruous and surprising).

In the last few days, with Thanksgiving Day looming, I suddenly had a thought: I could volunteer to help serve the Thanksgiving meal at the Salvation Army. No guilt about the undeserved plenty I enjoy. No angst about family. I could spend the day giving thanks and sharing blessings instead of stuffing my mouth with food I don’t actually need nowadays.

Mind you, that notion pushed me far outside my comfort zone. While I recognize I could have been one of the homeless not long ago, I also feel deeply inadequate to serve in this ministry. In the past few weeks in my parish, I have beseeched our leadership to equip people like me for this ministry. I don’t know how to do it. I feel wholly inept and unprepared. What can I offer? The Peace of the Lord and a heap of mashed potatoes? Maybe. That doesn’t sound so bad to me, actually.

I went to the Salvation Army this afternoon to give them a smoked turkey I had bought, and I talked with one of their volunteer coordinators. She made me feel inspired – that I can do this.

I feel inept. But I am also hopeful to think I can step outside my comfort zone.

So that’s where I’ll be tomorrow, starting at 9 a.m. Preparing food and serving. And you know what? Having no “Thanksgiving invitation,” early today I had tried to make a little grocery list of what I could make as a faux feast for myself. Now … I am looking forward to sharing a meal tomorrow with the folks at the Salvation Army Center. Weird as it seems to me, I’m looking forward to this more than I’ve looked forward to any Thanksgiving in a very long time.

Not about me! THANKS BE TO GOD!

I’ll let you know how it goes. I pray I’ll lose myself once I get into it. If you’re still up, please say a little prayer for me. As I've said too many times, this is going to push me outside my comfort zone. But I want to be pushed. I need to be pushed.