Saving the Best Wine for Last?

And then there were no more ordinary days. It's hard to believe that we have come to the near end. Today there will be more packed in than ever before starting with Bible Study, Indaba, two self-selects and ending with an 8:00 p.m. closing plenary. Pray that it's cool in the tent or the closing report will have the effect of a bedtime story. The closing Eucharist will take over Canterbury Cathedral tomorrow. The service is scheduled for 6:00 p.m.

Now that the end is here I can honestly say that one real tangible sign of the success of this small group process, known as Indaba, is that Bishop Walker has hung in there with his groupies to the very end. Bishop Ottley says his group has been the high point and Mrs. Ottley has made us all a little jealous because she has been raving about her group every evening that we have been together.

My set of fringe group friends and I have probably become more radical. Denying admittance to the Eucharist because one doesn't have the right color or right material thingey around one’s neck especially when you ran out of the supplies because of improper ordering has gotten my back up. Bishop still doesn't have his registration materials but I guess it doesn't matter much now. Back to us at the fringe, I am honored to be one of the unintended caught in the “safety” net that was laid for our LGBT brothers and sisters.

I understand security and the need to protect all the participants - I'm from New York - I get it. But and it's a big but, it's the Eucharist for crying out loud! I shan't be going to the closing service at the Cathedral Sunday. I can wield enough influence to get a ticket but all my fringe friends can't get tickets so I shall remain with the fringe on the fringe.

I have committed to writing several more reflections here to conclude this series. I've promised one on the Indaba Group. I am also going to reflect on Right of Admission Reserved, the role of the cathedral in the city, the companion diocese process, who threw whomever the proverbial bus, some general reflections and an open letter to the 8th Bishop of Long Island.

Further thoughts on Lambeth will be offered in the September Dominion. Bishop Walker will be writing his reflections in his usual column. I am giving over Canon's Corner to Senora Ottley. I am telling all of you this now because I am returning the purloined computer just as soon as I hit the send button. We return to Long Island on Tuesday. Why Tuesday? Tuesday is a song best left unsung but the blog will return on Wednesday.

When we return we will need to face into all the dynamics of the implications of what we have done for the life of our diocese and on a more mundane level we will need to try to understand why the telephones and server were down for the better part of the last five days. As one Sub-Saharan Bishop said, I'll quit my complaining. I thought you lived in the first world. Garden Ctiy.

Thank you dear readers for holding me to this discipline. Thank you Canon Lee for all your behind the scenes technical support. Thank you Bishop Ottley for coming to my rescue when my computer failed. Thank you Bishop Walker for allowing me to serve you and the People of Long Island. Until next week...is this really how Maureen Dowd got started?

The Home Stretch

We're coming into the home stretch and not a minute too soon! The bishops are all starting to look like Joe Palookas - rubbery legs, leadened arms, ears all cauliflowered and eyes puffy - as they are sent back into the ring, actually the big top, for one more round. Like a good corner woman, I have been giving my bishops, to borrow another sports metaphor, the win just one more for the gipper speech 'cause the folks at home are depending on you...well maybe my readers are depending on you...well maybe I'm depending on you so that I will have something to write...well actually it's you, you are depending on you to do the right thing. I have too many sports things going on here but I thought the 14th round of a championship fight sounded better than describing horses getting ready for the glue factory besides the animal rights group are really big here.

Yesterday the Conference devoted all of 90 minutes to the elephant in the room - human sexuality - and depending on your group leader, you may have had the conversation in triads, quads, Bible Study Group octet formation or in a few cases, by full Indaba. Where I get confused is when there are many sub-groups, how does the Indaba listener listen and how do the unlistened to voices get fed into the listening process?

On the one hand, I would like to give kudos for not giving this one topic any more time and attention than any other but, on the other hand, we can't be ostriches about this thing and pretend a great cloud isn't hanging over the entire Conference. This waiting until people are hang-dog tired has to be part of a strategy to wear them down - just wear them down and maybe they'll be too tired to talk.

As one voice from the pew, I really don't appreciate the timing. These folks are so tired and that Big Top is so hot and humid that meaningful conversation has been shifted and pushed to the margins just for the sake of some fresh air. We have spent a small fortune to get to this point in the proceedings and now we see time slipping away. Today is the penultimate work/study day. There will be a hearing on the human sexuality portion of the conference report as well as Bible Study and Indaba. Today's topic is the Windsor Process and Covenant - the penultimate work day - let's not rush into these important matters.

The conference report hearings have turned into an opportunity for the same ilk of voices to give pre-prepared addresses to the largest possible gathering under the pretext of word smithing - or getting your licks in by any means possible.

So now, today we have entered the home stretch but alas things aren't always as them seem. Unlike the diocesan tracks of The Big A and Belmont, if you're looking in the wrong direction, you might miss the finish line as they enter the home stretch at the Lambeth Derby.

Real Indaba Needed

Up until her departure yesterday, Joan Grimm Fraser, Rector of Holy Trinity, Hicksville, was the "go-to" woman at the International Anglican Women's Network (IAWN) stall or booth to most of us. You would go to her for a ride to town, go to her for help with arrangements, go to her for help setting up the dinner and so I have gone to her for a really great line that I wish had been mine. At the Long Island gathering, she was reflecting on the IAWN's Dinner in an English Home event and offered to me that is what Indaba is supposed to be. That was real Indaba."

About 60 or so people - bishops, their, in this case, wives, network members, locals and assorted camp followers - gathered under a mighty twin oak for dinner and extensive conversation. For me, it was the truest modification of what Indaba is touted as. I am sure that in days going forward and perhaps for years in post conference analysis, Indaba is going to be the whipping girl for this Conference but that observation will be offered in a separate post.

The IAWN's gathering was an opportunity for a meaningful exchange with no pre-set questions and no intended outcome. We might still be talking if we hadn't become sweet meat for the mosquitoes.

The IAWN is an official network of the Anglican Communion. Kim Robey, Christ Church, Oyster Bay and Staff Officer for Women's Ministries at TEC, is on the Secretariat of the Network and Joan Fraser is the volunteer we all wish we could clone, at a minimum. IAWN, in addition to the English Country Dinner, sponsored a Tea and Conversation with Bishops and Spouses, Prayer Walks and a lunch panel on Theological Education for the Empowerment of Women. I was one of the panelists.

I realize that the opportunities are limited for fringe and private events on this highly controlled and tightly manipulated Conference schedule but---for the women bishops to put their gathering opposite the Women's Network seemed like a dissing of the people who helped get you invited to the big dance in the first place. Not a woman bishop made an appearance at the education panel or dinner. Without so much as a walk-on, the absences were noticed and felt.

Maybe some real Indaba might be needed here.

A Tribute to Ted

Excuse the intrusion into the blog space with this personal message but I am compelled to pen a line or two of tribute for my friend Ted Webb. I received the news of his death and these few words are making their way to Trinidad in my place.

Mervyn Ted Webb was a Black aviation pioneer who served as one of the first Black Wing Commanders in Her Majesty's Air Force. He flew many important and top secret missions into Rhodesia and with his rank and by his demeanor he caused the apartheid era policies that were in place at the RAF base to be eliminated.

After hanging up his military uniform, he became a captain for BOAC - British Overseas Airlines Corporation - being the first Black man to don their uniform and sit in the cockpit. He was present for the birth of BWIA and trained a generation of pilots of color in the West Indies. When he joined the ranks of management at BWIA, it was his job to allay the fear - But Will It Arrive!

Two years ago, Ted and his wife Judith came to New York for the graduation of their daughter from Marymount College. They stayed in my home as I had enjoyed their hospitality many times during my visits to Trinidad. Ted took ill and they remained with me six months for post surgical chemotherapy and radiation.

From time to time when he was able, they would visit the Church of St. Luke and St. Matthew. One sure thing about cancer, it tends to cause one to seek a deeper knowledge of their faith so Ted and I enjoyed many great conversations about the Anglican Communion and, yes, that very same topic that is practically on every lip and heart here. I enjoyed our time together.

Ted passed from this life as he had lived his with stature, great dignity and looking forward to the promise of his new life with Christ.

May the souls of the faithfully departed rest in peace.

Almost heaven, Southwest Virginia

During the recent Democrat Party primary campaign season, Hillary Clinton was running up the score on Barack Obama in parts of Southern Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky and all parts of the abutting Appalachian Trail. Those white people could not relate to that black guy with the funny sounding African name. Over zealous media bloviators described the citizens of this region as salt-of-the-earth red, white and blue Americans - red neck, white trash and blue collar.

Not so fast - hold on a minute! Over the years, I've come to learn and appreciate a different story especially about the good mountain people of Southwest Virginia - the Diocese of - that is. For over thirty years, the hard working mountain people of the Diocese of Southwest Virginia have been in partnership with The Sudan. That relationship started long before church activists including me heeded the call of Bishop Heath Light to march for workers' rights against the Peabody Coal Mining Company. That was even decades before Darfur became the cause du jour and it was cool. These good folk have prayed together and supported one another mostly sight unseen for thirty years so let's not use that intolerant red, white and blue paint brush so fast.

Bishop Neff Powell has been nurturing the partnership over the years in a diocese where turning inward and focusing on at home needs could have been the path of least resistance. Last year when I was in the diocesan offices, I noticed an adopt-a-day chart where individuals, organizations and congregations were being asked to sign up for a day to cover the daily operating deficit of the diocese. Even in the face of those struggles, the good mountain people fulfilled their commitment to The Sudan.

At yesterday's hearing on the third document of the Windsor Continuation Group, the Archbishop of The Sudan spoke again offering a not too helpful clarification on his earlier statement condemning the American Church. After back pedaling around, the condemnation stood.

I know how Archbishop Deng-Bul's words will play in Peoria but I can't imagine how they will be received in Roanoke. Is his condemnation of the American Church reverberating in the hills and hollers of Southwest Virginia? How did his friends receive those words? Words are powerful even in this little slice of heaven known as Southwest Virginia.

Thank You Most Holy Trinity

Eons ago during the opening festivities, Trinity Church, New York City, was being thanked and the Archbishop of Canterbury called it Most Holy Trinity. I imagine he wanted to say Most Wealthy Trinity but then while true, that would have been tacky.

Trinity hosted what I would call a reunion dinner but they were reluctant to do that so I won't. Last summer, Trinity hosted a gathering in Escorial Spain, focused on issues of partnerships. This dinner was a renewal gathering of those who had participated in the Walking to Emmaus consultation in Spain.

So now let me get the fluff out of the way first. Each table had a lovely floral centerpiece and beige, gold and orange tone napkins folded in the shape of a heart. We all had place cards. Each guest received an autographed and dedicated copy of Jim Lemler's new book and the women received a pendant created by the Rector's wife, Tay Cooper. Each piece of the hand-made kiln-fired clay was silk-screened with the Emmaus foot-print and each woman's name was fired in as well. A greeting card from Dr. and Mrs. Cooper was also at each place setting. One more bit of fluff - a bottle of Tabasco graced each table. That seemed to be a very inside joke.

Dr. James Callaway, Deputy for Anglican Partnerships, opened the limited program and then turned it over to Bishop Rob O'Neill (Colorado) who offered one of the most profound thoughts of the week in describing the Walking to Emmaus process. "Walker, there is no road. The road is made by walking it." He honestly said the thought was not his and that he had heard it in his Bible Study Group. It really fit the occasion.

Bishops Singulane (Lebombo, Mozambique) and Curry (Suffragan, Connecticut) shared stories of their partnership. Bishop Curry was wearing a cross made from a destroyed AK-47. Removing and destroying those weapons was an important ministry of Bishop Singulane. Bishop Curry went on to relate that wearing the cross reminded him of the need to work on gun violence in the urban areas of Connecticut.

Bishop Singulane took us back to Mutual Responsibility and Interdependence and the 1963 Toronto Conference and then worked us forward. It was good to be reminded that everything old is new again.

Canon Musoke-Lubega, the Trinity Program Officer for Africa, invited us into table discussions of how we had benefited from the Emmaus Process. My table mates were The Primate of the Indian Ocean, the Bishops of Cape Coast, Ghana, Western Massachusetts and Long Island, the spouses of the Bishop of Atlanta and Suffragan New York and The Anglican Observer to the United Nations. We had good conversations at the table. It was good renewing old acquaintances. The Primate of the Indian Ocean had attended Afro-Anglicans II and Bishop Sarfo of Cape Coast had attended the pre-Lambeth Consultation in Pretoria that I had been of part of this past spring.

To a person, all were able to thank and commend Mrs. Helen Wangusa, the Anglican Observer, on her presentations to the Conference especially the one on London Day.

In addition to providing me with a change of dinner venue, the Emmaus Meal and Renewal presented an alternative reality to what was going on outside beyond that venue. Ten percent of the Lambeth Conference participants were in that room, ten percent of the Lambeth Conference participants were focused on partnership, ten percent of the Lambeth Conference participants were holding Communion as dear and ten percent of the Lambeth Conference participants were making the road by walking it.

Thank you Most Holy Trinity for sharing your largess to help in building up the Kingdom.

Sunday's Sundae

Today is day 20 of this sojourn! I am feeling and looking a bit like the lettuce on sale at the bodega down the street from my apartment - brown around the edges and wilted. Only 7 more days for me over here but who's counting.

Yesterday was Canterbury Day and Team Long Island all went their separate ways. That was a good thing. I headed off to London. In case you thought that there is only one queen in London who can give a garden party, get a grip and think again. Friends, old and brand new, soothed my bruised feelings with a great garden party and barbecue. Our wide ranging conversation topics included global warming, care for the environment, social justice, mission strategy, inclusion and, of course, the future of the Anglican Communion. By the end of the evening and the last bottle of wine, we were starting to make pretty good sense. Actually, we were making more sense than the folk that I had left behind in Canterbury. It was a worthy party and a grand time was had by all. For me it was a Sunday Sundae.

The cherry on my Sunday's Sundae happened as it were when I arrived back in Canterbury. There was quite a queue for a taxi. A bishop in mufti (I spotted the chain of his pectoral cross going diagonally across his chest into his shirt pocket) went to the head of the queue in front of about twenty of us.

Like a mighty Greek chorus we all shouted, "Get in the queue." Then came a great baritone voice that boomed out "Who do you think you are, a bishop or something!" He slunk to this rightful place - the end of the procession.

Let's Face the Music and Dance

Yesterday was class photo day giving the official photographer another opportunity to learn to properly reset the f-stop to adjust for the changing composition of the Communion. If the 200 or so African and handful of Australian bishops had come this year, some more adjusting would have been required and I don't know where they would have fit.

There was some political statement trying to be made by the judicious (or in- as it may actually be) placement of certain bishops. It sounded like an ecclesial prize is right. Bishop female, gafcon participant, middle of the roader, liberal come on down and let us make sure people know that you are here.

While all this delicate placement was taking place, the bishops broke into song. The old evergreen that they chose was Just as I Am, which seemed to say how they feel about change. I found myself singing "When the red red Robin goes bob-bob-bobbin along" as they were in rochet and chimere.

What could have been newsworthy was if the formation had morphed into an Electric Slide line (can't you just see those shimmying chimeres).

In my diocese, the Electric Slide has become, in the words of T'yve, Tradition. In my words, something done twice at convention. The Electric Slide would be another type of stretch especially for those in Indaba groups under revolt.

The Electric Slide is a dance that everybody can do, you don't need a partner (No not that kind of partner, a dancing partner). Those who know the steps have to put up with those who don't and those who don't know the steps sometimes are moving right when the step is to the left and vice-versa or fro when it's to but then after a while and some initial struggles with the steps and the rhythm, the line starts working and moves as a unit. From my experience and far from scientific clinical observations, everyone has a good time and the most people are on the dance floor because it's a way for maximum participation. So that was my fantasy - dancing bishops. If only some music had come blasting out of the Big Top the bishops could have danced instead of waltzing back into their covert caucuses.

Maybe they would have preferred the Cha-Cha-Slide?