The Last Word on the Bag of Bags

When did Primates become an Instrument of Unity? I guess we are reaping some of the seeds sown by Presiding Bishop Allin when he was looking for a way to duck the issue of the ordination of women. We are just fattening frogs for snakes! While the Primates are making pronouncements, Indaba mates are, in the words of Rodney King, just trying to get along.

The Parable of the Bag of Bags

After traveling west from Garden City to Brooklyn and west across the North Atlantic, north to Canterbury from Southampton and onward north to the University of Kent, the bag of bags and box of bags were delivered and distributed on the same day that the Archbishop of The Sudan was making his pronouncements. It was not really clear if the newly minted Primate was speaking for his entire Province. The Indaba gifts arrived to the appointed place and were distributed by a wise and generous giver. The group was blown away by the beauty and significance of the bag. And there was joy in the Indaba group. All the bishops were most appreciative. One bishop in particular was really liking his Indaba bag but on further notice, he seemed to be casting a longing eye on the now empty bag that had contained the bags. The admiring bishop was from The Sudan.

The giver of the bags being a wise and senior bishop picked up on the signal but as a wise and senior bishop he said that I must speak to a higher authority about the bag; I must speak to my Canon as this former bag of bags from the Buyers Warehouse in Hempstead purchased for this occasion may be a family heirloom. The wise and senior bishop held out some hope saying, "I'll see what I can do," because the wise and senior bishop was enjoying his newly minted friendship with the bishop from The Sudan.

Now when the wise and senior bishop saw the oft-time mercurial canon, the canon was in a snit over the recently issued statement of the Primate of The Sudan. Being a wise and senior bishop, that wise and senior bishop left the canon alone.

The next day the wise and senior bishop inquired about the future of the former bag of bags and seeing that the canon was in a joyful mood added that a bishop from The Sudan was interested in having the bag. The canon heaved a heavy sigh. The loyal and faithful canon of the wise and senior bishop remembered the teachings of the wise and senior bishop over the years - We are Long Island, we are not petty, we come in fellowship, we are doing the Lord's work in middle management and it is more blessed to give that big former bag of bags away than to lug it home.

So the bishop from The Sudan received the bag formerly of bags, the wise and senior bishop saved face and the mercurial canon learned a great lesson about grace - let the Primates be Primates - we have work to do building the kingdom one bag at a time.

This parable was written by a blithe spirit who has occupied Canon Porter's body as it is her birthday.

London Day - My Way

After a March on Poverty described in the national press here as a bobbing river of purple, the bishops, spouses, guests, et al, were, what else, treated to a drinks reception and sumptuous lunch under a specially erected marquee. Think of the statement they could have made if they had a lunch similar to those eaten in the two-thirds world - that is, if those folk were having any lunch at all. That could have been a major statement on poverty and world hunger.

While at lunch, they were addressed by "the son of a preacher man" the Prime Minister, Gordon Brown. While the PM was addressing the assembled, the Labour Party was getting its clocked cleaned in elections in Scotland and his very well received remarks were knocked out of the news altogether. Barack Obama's rally in Berlin didn't help either. From all accounts, if the Prime Minister loses his day job he'd fit right into the pulpit. I watched his address to The Knesset last week and I, too, agree he could follow in his father's footsteps.

After those festivities it was off to see The Queen. Following some mysterious selection process, a handful of bishops got tapped on the shoulder to come up higher. Our very own Bishop 826 was chosen to chat up the Duke of Edinburgh, HRH Prince Philip. Part met the Queen and the other part the Duke. Before The Royals entered the receiving chamber, the bishops were instructed on the body language protocol of the proper form of greeting.

Perhaps it's because the Church of England doesn't have women bishops that the Protocol Officer told the women bishops to curtsy - wrong! A bishop is a bishop is a bishop. Going along to get along were Rhode Island and El Camino Real. How I wish their office rather than their sex had defined the movement of the moment. Anyway, a grand time was had by all.

No Pity Parties Allowed Here

My first experience of camp life was a YWCA camp at the Lake of the Ozarks, that's Missouri. My Grandfather was the chairman of the board of the Negro YMCA and my Grandmother was his equal at the YWCA so all was arranged. I was too young and quite far away from friends and my Mother and Father.

On Parents Day, of course, mine couldn't visit from East Chicago and I had my first known pity-party. I wrote the all time A-number one tear jerking letter home from camp. Upon getting my letter, my Mother took the Santa Fe Rail road from Chicago to Kansas City and when the bus pulled up at the end of my camp session, my Mother was waiting for me at the "Y".

I burst into tears when I saw her and rolled those tears into a king-sized tantrum--which really wasn't my style. For my last tantrum on record, I had been four and I performed in front of Marshall Fields on State Street during the Santa Claus parade. I was now seven.

Perplexed by my actions, my Mom said "I thought you would be glad to see me based on the letter you wrote home so why are you crying?" "I'm crying because I want to go back - I don't want to come home!!!"

I'm not really sure why my tantrum was rewarded but after much negotiating with everybody under the sun, I turned around and went back - dirty clothes, matted hair and all under the threat that if I ever wrote such a letter again, I would be on punishment until I was old enough that I could collect Social Security.

I woke up this morning at about 3:15 a.m. because I felt a pity-party coming on. Well more to the point, I felt water boarded without the water. I remembered my Mother's threat of punishment. I'm going off line today before I write a letter from camp and hit the send button.

Come back tomorrow. I will be writing about the parable of the bag of bags among other things after I finish my panel discussion at the fringe. I want to be a tassel - I'm not sure about being a fringe.

Bul in the China Closet

We see on Sky TV that Texas is preparing for Hurricane Dolly. There are no hurricanes here but we have been hit by a Bul in the china closet! Upsetting the neatly arranged tea cups has been Archbishop Daniel Deng Bul, the Primate of The Sudan. After holding a press briefing to discuss the political situation in the Sudan, the conversation rather than concluding with a discussion of the problems roiling in Darfur, he segued to the elephant in the living room and the neatly arranged fragile English bone-china tea cups were shattered. The Archbishop called for the resignation of the Bishop of New Hampshire and an apology from all those who participated in his consecration.

At least he was more gracious than Bishop Iker who said all those who had participated in the consecration should leave immediately.

Before concluding, Archbishop Bul added that he had not spoken to Bishop Robinson and felt no need to do so and that he was not participating in the Lambeth Listening Process.

What makes this cheese so binding is that while he was holding his briefing an invitation to the American bishops was flying over the electronic transom. Bishop Jefferts Schori was inviting all TEC bishops to a meet and greet the Bishops of The Sudan, Congo and Liberia.

This meet and greet was designed for bishops to get first hand information on some of the most war ravaged nations in Africa but it has now presented the Ordinary of Long Island with a dilemma. Between now and Saturday night, he must figure out how much talking he really wants to do with someone who has announced that he isn't listening. What's really clear for the Ordinary, and not presenting a dilemma, is that he isn't confessing, apologizing or leaving.

Stay tuned!

A Comment on the Comments

My sincere thanks to all of you for the public as well as private notes. Your notes kept me going while I was in cyber-hell.

For those of you who are not regular readers of Canon's Corner I should probably be less wry. I will try but I cannot promise.

To Bob G+, His Grace, the Archbishop of York and I have been friends for years thus the moniker he has placed on me over the years is "Lady Long Island". Actually after he and Mrs. Sentamu passed and we had so much fun greeting each other, the protesters viewed me in a bit of a more substantial light.

To David Gable, Take heart Long Islanders was related to the Ka-Ching line. Ka-Ching is the sound of the cash register counting up the coins for this experience. Angelinos are paying for 9 persons while only 4 Long Islanders are on the dole. Ka-Ching!

To Canon Juan, 10 years goes by awfully fast and there will be another Lambeth Conference if all these happy bishops that I am seeing have anything to say in the matter. You are right where you're supposed to be - caring for Adria.

Change the Tape

Our hotel has taped music in the public rooms which I am in quite a bit because that is where the Wi-Fi hot spots are located. One tape has looped so many times that I am loopy. Old standards played on a mournful, pitiful clarinet loop over and over again and that clarinet just goes on and on then on some more.

Last Friday evening, two other guests were moved to act. The elder of the two women, who looks for all the world like every-body's first grade teacher, sought the manager. When he arrived she told him straight away, "Relegate that tape to the bin!" Off he went and off it went. Thanks be to God.

When I was member of the Presiding Bishop Ed Browning's staff, one year we did a series of in-depth diocesan visits and one of the many visits was to the Diocese of Quincy.

That was the first time I heard the mantra from a mournful clarinet like voice saying you have to feel my pain. That was twelve years ago. At several subsequent General Conventions and at the last one in Columbus, I heard the mantra again. And again. That tape has been looping for twelve years that I know of and even as recently as yesterday during the meetings by Province, TEC bishops were ask to feel his pain yet again. I don't think he has the market on pain. At this Lambeth Conference, I know he doesn't have the market on pain.

It's time to change the tape. Where is that little English woman when I need her.

Faces in the Crowd

One of the great things about being here at Lambeth, in addition to all the other things we project upon it, it's a great gathering of the clan. Seeing and greeting old friends and making new ones is one of the main reasons for making this pilgrimage. Yesterday, I spotted several of my personal all time favorites:

Dr. Jenny Te Paa, the great Maori lay theologian, shared a wonderful story of her childhood growing up with a Maori Mother and Brit Father. Her Brit Father loved all the pomp and would have stood for all thirty minutes of the eight processions while her Maori Mother was more laid back and would have sat through them. She wasn't quite sure what to do so we alternated.

The Reverend Dr. Harold Lewis, son of Long Island and Rector of Calvary Church, Shady Grove, PA, is here collecting information for a new book he is writing from his perspective on the Lambeth Conference. This is Harold's third Lambeth - all the sizzle but not the steak.

Canon Benjamin Musoke-Lubega, the indefatigable Africa Grants Officer for Trinity Church, who has probably done more to preserve unity within the Communion than anyone will ever acknowledge.

The Reverend Rose Hudson-Wilkins recently name chaplain to the Royal Household, who worked with us as a member of the Planning Committee for Afro-Anglicans III. Rose is Chaplain to the Spouses Conference.

The Reverend Canon Kenneth Kearon, Secretary-General of the ACC, wearing a GTS doctoral hood for the opening service. I whispered to him that it was my fantasy that General was his favorite seminary and that's why he was wearing our hood not that this was the first hood he could put his hands on when he was packing. I shan't reveal his answer.

The Reverend Canon John Petersen, Canon for International Concerns of the Washington National Cathedral and former Secretary-General of the ACC, was looking like the happiest man in all of Kent since he had no responsibilities for the Conference other than showing up.

Team Diocese of Los Angeles - by far the largest diocesan team - 4 bishops, 3 spouses, 2 staff but no partridge in a pear tree. Take heart - good people of Long Island. Ka-ching, Ka-ching!

The Right Reverend Paul Lambert, Suffragan of Dallas, who gives new meaning to being a baby bishop. Sunday being his seventh day as a bishop. He flew off to Lambeth on the morning after his consecration.

Senora Lillian Ottley, wife of Bishop James Ottley, who for the second consecutive Lambeth celebrated her July 20th birthday in the midst of the Conference.

Happy Birthday to Lillian, a most gracious member of our diocesan team.

All are Welcome in this Place

They can "do" church at the Canterbury Cathedral. The processions, the music, the precision and vestments - just glorious. The eight vergers got the entire procession of over 700 persons into place by precisely eleven o'clock. The mass setting was the "Missa Luba" and those boys and men of the Cathedral Choir could really sing that traditional Congolese music. The Gospel procession was led by brothers and sisters from Melanesia carrying the Gospel book in a scale model of a dug out canoe. The women were carrying the canoe while the men danced about. Isn't that the way it always is - the women doing the heavy lifting? I thought the writers of the service booklet were trying to be super cool calling them brothers and sisters until I realized they were from religious orders. The monks and nuns were dressed in traditional grass skirts and body paint but they appeared for Communion in their habits.

The Bishop of Colombo (Sri Lanka) preached a challenging sermon calling us all into a deeper appreciation of the full spectrum of the diversity that is the Anglican Communion. I must admit that somewhere in the sermon the administration side of me kicked in and I tried to calculate the cost of maintaining that great Cathedral and envying the way in which an elevator had been installed and their decent and abundant toilet facilities. My reverie was disturbed when I heard a familiar voice and looked up on my video screen to see Bishop E. Don Taylor (Assistant of New York) leading the Intercessions.

The post communion anthem was "All are Welcome in this Place." "...Here the outcast and the stranger, bear the image of God's face; let us bring an end to fear and danger, All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome in this place." It was a thoughtful and haunting anthem. How I wish we could sing it so.

As I was leaving the service I ran into the Bishop of New Westminster (Canada) Michael Ingham. We mused together if all are so welcomed in this place why was our brother from New Hampshire missing. Later on I thought how could all this be? We have a TEC bishop who is seeking to move his entire diocese to the nether world and he was parading around after the great unifying service giving press interviews but then again - ALL are welcome in this place.

The Gauntlet

From the transportation drop off point to the main entrance of the Cathedral precinct, to get to church yesterday, we had to pass through a row of demonstrators. By Brooklyn standards, it was a pitiful demonstration unless the numbers had been artificially limited by police permit or some other prearrangement.

The best of the rag tag lot had hand puppets resembling dragons and devils and the puppeteers were speaking in the so called voices of the characters they were holding. Others had signs that were difficult to read so the points were missed by most. Abomination seemed to be the buzz word with people chanting something as we passed. I'm not being obtuse. As demonstrations go, this one missed the mark. What they really needed was that big inflatable rat that travels around to construction sites in New York City. If you are trying to make the point that we are rats deserting the ship of Anglicanism as they believe it should be and abominations for doing so, then you should bloody well make the point!

I was on the gauntlet line for about 15 minutes. I had to wait for the arrival of my ticket into the Cathedral. The Archbishop of York and Mrs. Sentamu passed as I was standing there. The Archbishop chided me "My Lady of Long Island, have you gone to the far side?" I quickly responded "Oh no, my Lord, Your Grace. Not at all."

Mercifully my ticket bearer soon arrived and I finished strolling through that pitiful gauntlet.