General Convention 2009

A little before midnight, Tuesday.

No weighty thoughts tonight, but just some snapshots.

This morning in the House of Deputies we had a sort of “time out” from legislation for special guests. When such announcements come, I inwardly groan, but you’d think I’d learn. There are always holy surprises when you least expect them. This time, it was a passel of ecumenical guests. They processed to the platform, and right off you could see it was an Ubuntu moment.
Some Protestant-looking vestments. The purple shirt must mean a bishop, the turban a Sikh, the yarmulke a Jew. Well, Los Angeles is about the most diverse community in the world. A speaker made some bland remarks, and then three people gathered around the podium meaningfully. There was a hush. Then the Jewish cantor began to sing, and his voice was so sweet and pure, those Hebrew phrases I can’t understand anymore, but ancient and sacred. I think I was holding my breath. Then a Muslim muezzin wearing what I would call an alb, but I bet he wouldn’t call it that, began to sing a call to prayer, and it filled this huge industrial-style room with the most exquisite other-worldly song beseeching God. Who knows what the Arabic said, but you could *tell* it was beseeching God. Then a pale-looking man in a cassock and surplice (like a Grace Church acolyte, so you could figure he was a Christian) sang a version of the Aaronic blessing (May the Lord bless you and keep you, may the Lord make his face shine upon you…..) that I’d never heard before, but it was haunting and warm at the same time.

Now, I found that by the time the third singer finished, I had been repeatedly holding my breath. But what came next took me to another almost unearthly level. The three began to sing together, each in his own musical idiom, which you just couldn’t imagine could coexist. It became one – one composition, one song, one blessing. I have never heard anything like it, and imagine that only in heaven could you call it “normal.” Because not only was the sound beautiful beyond description, but the blending of those three voices so intimately, each risking its life with the other for the sake of transcendence – well, what that says about Jews and Muslims and Christians together is amazing and deeply encouraging , and it came as a complete surprise, like a gift of something impossible to find or purchase, more valuable than you could calculate, yet something you could not hold onto and possess. Ubuntu indeed.

And then we simply moved on to the day’s business.

Brian McLaren, a pretty famous evangelist, will be speaking here twice tomorrow.

More tonight or tomorrow.
Love,
Connie

Previously reported:

Dear friends,
Remember how I said yesterday that the House of Deputies passed D025 and the House of Bishops would be more cautious? Well, the Bishops just passed it too. It comes back to our house tomorrow or the next day to reconcile slightly different language.

You will probably be hearing of the Episcopal church in the press. Sigh. They’ll zero in on just one thing. The shorter the summary, the more heart-stopping the headline, the more it sells. Grab your heart pills! More gay bishops! The world is coming to an end!

But you read my description yesterday. The resolution itself is very gentle, and it reaches out with love and generosity to the rest of the Anglican Communion, to people who disagree, to all Episcopalians. This is not an “in your face” decision, not at all. And if you could have seen the two houses in deliberation, you would have seen that painstakingly gentle and respectful stance towards people who will disagree, but who are still brothers and sisters in Christ.

When we get outside of that legislative chamber, there is still that sense of oneness in Christ. At least I think there is. Definitely in our deputation. Yet I also know there are people who are hurt or angry or confused.

What I believe so strongly, though, is that our sexuality is only one part of us – indeed at best a very loving part of us. We are made for relationships, whether it is with someone we meet over the breakfast table, or someone we meet at the Communion Table.

I suppose my personal default setting may err a bit on the side of optimism, but I look at the future of the Episcopal Church, and more broadly Christ’s church in this confusing 21st-century world, and I am not filled with despair. I heard the most terrific young people tell a committee this morning why youth under 18 should be able to serve on vestries, and no, they didn’t mind the boring parts. I heard a young woman from New Orleans tell about how the Bishop of Louisiana and church people from all over the country rolled up their sleeves to help in the wake of hurricane Katrina. (And I was proud that a dozen or so of them were from Grace Church!) I heard the chaplain of the House of Deputies offer a meditation on how those who are not chosen (who don’t get elected, who come in second, whose words are not heard) are the true measure of faith in a religion whose founder’s management-style involved washing people’s feet.

If the Episcopal Church were into power-moves or PR these days, if it were into covering its exposure to the winds of criticism, I would be at a very different General Convention than I am. But what I see here is good, self-giving people, very diverse, who pray, who listen to each other and to the needs of the world, and who are willing to step out in faith to do the right thing.

I know that all of us here in Anaheim will be coming home soon. We may meet disappointment or anger or indifference. But weighing more heavily in the balance for me this evening is my overwhelming affection for this church and its people, and for the way that we reach out so earnestly to try to do God’s will.

Night-time blessings to you all. I’ll write more tomorrow.
Love,
Connie