Bishops in retreat

I must admit that seeing 600+ bishops in the same place at the same time is both impressive and, to be honest, a little unnerving. What’s fun is that they come in all colours, shapes, sizes, and genders. The diversity of our Anglican Communion is very much made manifest when you get all our bishops together under one roof.

The roof under which they are currently spending most of their time is that of Canterbury Cathedral. The bishops are still in the midst of their three-day retreat led by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Each day begins on the university campus with morning prayer (at 6:30 a.m.), followed by eucharist, breakfast, and Bible study. Then the bishops are respectfully herded onto busses which take them into town and Christ Church Cathedral, where they hear a couple of reflections from Archbishop Williams, and then have some time for their own reflection and prayer. A couple of the cathedral’s many smaller chapels have even been made available to bishops who wish to make their confession while they’re here.

The retreat is for bishops only, and the entire cathedral precincts have been pretty well reserved for them these three days, so as to allow them as quiet, reflective, and prayerful a beginning to the Lambeth Conference as possible. This is the first time Lambeth has begun with a spiritual retreat, and most of the bishops I’ve spoken with are grateful that they’re beginning the conference with Bible study and prayer, rather than diving head first into business. Bishop Sue Moxley of Nova Scotia and PEI (left) and Bishop Linda Nicholls of the Trent-Durham region of the Diocese of Toronto are particularly grateful for the fact the conference begins with a time of relative quiet. As Bishop Nicholls told the Anglican Journal, the retreat “is going to be a really important piece of helping us to be ready for what comes next in terms of conversation and dialogue.”

The conference has only just begun, and it’s already been a great opportunity to catch up with some old acquaintances and to make some new ones, too. During the summer of 2003, I served an international internship in the Diocese of Grahamstown, in South Africa. About six weeks of that time was spent in the rugged and rural northern region of the diocese, working closely with the newly consecrated suffragan bishop at the time, Thabo Makogba. He was a young and brand new bishop at the time (and at 48, he’s not exactly old now), but already very wise and pastoral, and many already had him pegged for great things. Sure enough, earlier this year he was enthroned as the archbishop of Cape Town and primate of Southern Africa. Thabo was also on the Lambeth Conference’s design team. It’s been great reuniting with him and his wonderful wife, Lungi, and we’re hoping to find some more time during the conference to catch up.

While the bishops were on their lunch break, I bumped into Pierre Whalon (right), who is the Episcopal Church (USA) bishop based in Paris, and who has jurisdiction for American churches in Europe, like Emmanuel Church in Geneva, where I occasionally take services. As such, he’s my bishop while I’m in Switzerland. He was out for a lunchtime stroll with the bishop of Los Angeles, Jon Bruno, and they invited me for a coffee at the Starbucks which is literally right next door to the cathedral. Bishop Bruno is one of those larger than life type of people. Before being ordained a priest, he was a police officer in Burbank, California, and before that played center for the Denver Broncos. Cool.

This evening, I start getting down to business in the role I’m actually here to play: rapporteur. There are about a dozen of us, and we’ll attend our first training session tonight, so afterward I’ll probably have a little more to say about what it is I’ll be up to.

Canada comes to Canterbury

In the space of a day, Canterbury has gone from relatively quiet to positively bustling. The majority of bishops and spouses arrived today, including a large contingent of Canadians. As the saying goes, you can’t swing a dead cat in Canterbury these days without hitting a bishop. I bumped into several fellow Canucks on campus today, and thought Anglicans back home might like some photographic evidence that our bishops and spouses are, indeed, attending the Lambeth Conference and not working on their tans on some Caribbean beach. Among the first I encountered today was none other than our primate, Archbishop Fred Hiltz, looking relatively refreshed after spending several hours on a long-delayed bus from Scotland and arriving at about 3:30 a.m.

Blanche and Archbishop Terry Buckle (Yukon) and Jacqueline Plante and Bishop Rodney Andrews (Saskatoon)

Mary Atagotaaluk (Arctic), Bishop Barry Clarke (Montreal), Suffragan Bishop Ben Arreak and Diocesan Bishop Andrew Atagotaaluk (Arctic)

Barb Liotscos and Bishop Gordon Light (Central Interior)

Monica Coffin (Western Newfoundland), Diana Stavert (Quebec), Sharon Miller (Fredericton), and Clavera Pie (Bujumbura, Burundi)

Suffragan Bishop Robert Bennett and Kathy Bennett (Huron), Bishop Barry Clarke (Montreal), Bernadette Njegovan and Bishop Jim Njegovan (Brandon)

Coadjutor Bishop Dennis Drainville (Quebec), Angelina Leggo (a Drainville family friend visiting England from Gaspé), Aurora Drainville, Cynthia Patterson (Quebec), Bishop James Cowan and Annette Cowan (British Columbia)

That’s certainly not the entire Canadian contingent, but some of the ones I came across today. The conference begins in earnest tomorrow, with the starting of a three-day retreat for the bishops led by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

My Canterbury tale begins

As promised, some news from Canterbury, where I arrived yesterday. While not exactly quiet, things here at the Lambeth Conference are still in preparatory mode. The bishops really don’t start arriving until tomorrow, and even then their program begins with a pretty low-key, three-day retreat led by the Archbishop of Canterbury (who I actually just bumped into strolling across campus a few minutes ago).

The main venue for the conference is the campus of the University of Kent, which is on the outskirts of Canterbury. That can occasionally seem a little inconvenient, but on the bright side, its location does afford one of the best views around of the Cathedral and Metropolitical Church of Christ (a.k.a. Canterbury Cathedral). On a sunny day it’s rather spectacular, although as you can see above, we’re getting some typically grey English weather at the moment.

Sizeable though it is, even the university’s largest space can’t accommodate the hundreds of people who will be gathered in one place for some of the conference’s bigger events, like worship and plenary sessions. So conference organizers have erected a large tent to accommodate the conference’s larger gatherings. The tent is officially known as “The Big Top” (above). You can insert your own crack here.

While the bishops are in retreat, many of us with particular tasks at the conference will be getting more familiar with what exactly those tasks entail. I’m here as one of about a dozen “rapporteurs” who will serve as kind of recording secretaries for the bishops as they gather regularly into groups of about 50 to discuss everything from evangelism, social injustice, mission, the environment, interfaith relations and, yes, human sexuality. What we record from our group’s deliberations will, it is the organizers’ hope, eventually form a coherent message that can be transmitted to the wider conference and beyond. As our job description puts it, we rapporteurs have “a unique privilege and a unique responsibility.” Indeed.

But that particular work doesn’t begin for a few more days. In the meantime, I’m able to spend some time getting reacquainted with Canterbury, where I spent a month in 2002 participating in a course for seminarians offered by the cathedral’s International Study Centre. Part of that reacquainting was attending evensong at the cathedral yesterday, where I bumped into no fewer than three fellow Canadian Anglicans: the Rt. Rev. Victoria Matthews, former bishop of Edmonton and bishop-elect of Christchurch, New Zealand; the Ven. Paul Feheley, principal secretary to the primate of Canada; and the Rev. Mia Anderson, rector of St. Michael, Sillery, in my own Diocese of Quebec. Who knew cathedral evensong was the place to see and be seen?

In fact, there promises to be a respectable Canadian contingent here at Lambeth: 30+ bishops, about a half-dozen staff, volunteers, and more. Perhaps I’ll try and introduce you to some of them in the days ahead.

The past 112 days in 1,112 words

So after neglecting my blog for almost four months, I faced a fork in the virtual road: pull the plug on ol’ BosseyBlog or try and do some justice to the past 112 days in a single posting. Partly out of guilt, partly as a result of encouragement from some faithful visitors to the site, I’ve opted for a sort of megaposting. Buckle up.

Previously, on BosseyBlog... I left things off with a description of what the academic program here would be like during the new semester. We had two interdisciplinary seminars (one on church and state, the other on healing and reconciliation) and two other courses (one on methodology, the other on religious plurality). The courses were generally good, although with only five students in most of the seminars, getting a good discussion going was sometimes a challenge. Though we had two professors for each course, the students also each took turns leading seminars or offering presentations, often related to our own interests or backgrounds. For instance, in the church and state seminar I presented a paper on the attitude of the early Church Fathers toward the state. For the healing and reconciliation seminar I offered a paper on Canada’s Indian residential schools. And for our course on religious plurality, I gave a presentation on the increasingly multi-religious mosaic which is Canada. The methodology course’s objective was to help us prepare for writing our 100-page dissertations. After some reworking, my research proposal (a glimpse of which is pictured) got the go-ahead. It’s entitled “The Limits of Communion: Finding a Role for Anglican-Orthodox Dialogue in Resolving Intra-Anglican Conflict.” If you’re particularly interested, I can email you my full proposal.

Of course, it’s not just been work over here. In addition to serving as our main place of study, Bossey is also a place where several outside groups (church and non-church alike) hold gatherings of various kinds. One such group was a meeting of ecumenical officers from various churches around the world. Two fellow Canucks were among them: Paul Johnson from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada, and Gail Allen from the United Church of Canada (to my left around the campfire). It was a great opportunity to catch up with Paul (who was taking the photo) and to meet Gail—and to have some people understand my Canadian sense of humour for a change.

My extracurricular travels have been ongoing. Istanbul is a city that’s long been on my list of places to see. A Bossey classmate of mine, Heewung Kang (pictured with me on the shores of the Black Sea), was up for a road trip before heading home to South Korea, so we hopped on a plane and spent four days in the “gateway to Asia.” The timing was such that we booked our trip on the weekend Eastern Orthodox Christians celebrate Easter. For centuries, before its fall to the Turks, Istanbul (then known as Constantinople or New Rome) was the centre of Eastern Christianity. To this day it is home to the most senior of all Orthodox bishops, the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople. Christianity—and the patriarchate—in Istanbul is a shadow of its former self, with only a couple of thousand faithful living among a vast and sometimes militant Muslim majority. But for a few hours in the early morning of Easter Sunday, I was able to participate in one of the most glorious celebrations of the resurrection, in a city where Christians have been worshipping continuously for at least 17 centuries. The Ecumenical Patriarch, His All Holiness Bartholomew I (himself a Bossey graduate from the 1960s), celebrated the (four hour!) Holy Liturgy in the Cathedral Church of St. George. It was without a doubt the highlight of my visit to Istanbul.

I also paid another visit to Monte Carlo, where Wally Raymond (my former colleague at the cathedral in Quebec City) is now the Anglican chaplain. He invited me down for the Monaco Grand Prix. Despite having lived in a Formula One city, namely Montreal, for five years, this was my first F1 experience. One of Wally’s parishioners has a flat with (as you can see) a pretty sweet view of the track, and invited us up to watch the race. Considering wooden bench seats from which to watch the race were going for several hundred euros, I can only imagine what seats like ours might have cost. Most of the people watching the race with us in the flat were British expatriates, so it was an added treat when the British driver, Lewis Hamilton, took the chequered flag. I also preached that Sunday in Wally’s church. The appointed lectionary text happened to be Matthew 6:24: “No one can serve to masters. […] You cannot serve God and wealth.” A challenging passage on which to preach in the wealthiest city on earth.

Speaking of preaching, I’ve continued to have the privilege to fill in as celebrant at the Episcopal (that’s the Anglican church in the USA) parish in Geneva, Emmanuel. The rector is a fellow Canadian and fellow Dio alumnus named John Beach. I filled in for him just a couple of weekends ago, and the service included a baptism. I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoy presiding at the liturgy. It was really quite nice, although I suppose it’s easy to idealize things when you’re just filling in. When you walk out the door of the church after coffee hour, you don’t have to worry about any of the problems which might rear their heads in the parish afterward.

Perhaps my biggest news is that instead of spending the month of July here at Bossey doing an interfaith course, I’ll be in Canterbury, attending the Lambeth Conference. A chance encounter here at the institute with Dame Mary Tanner (a prominent figure in the Church of England) has led to my being seconded to the staff of the conference as a “rapporteur” (basically a kind of recording secretary). The Lambeth Conference brings together most of the world’s Anglican bishops only once every 10 years, and so this is a kind of once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Both my bishops (+Bruce Stavert and +Dennis Drainville) will be there, as well as a number of other Canadian Anglicans serving in various capacities. Given the current divisions in the Anglican Communion, this could be one of the most decisive gatherings in the history of our church. It will be an amazing privilege to be witnessing it all—whatever happens.

My hope (yes, I know you’ve heard this one before) is that I’ll be able to blog a bit from the conference. Until next time, from Canterbury…

Paris, Monte Carlo, and a new semester

My first semester here at Bossey ended with a (badly needed) two-week break. About three-quarters of the students who’ve been here since September have left, having completed the five-month Graduate School program for which they registered. That leaves eight of us behind until the summer, completing master degrees in ecumenical studies. As you might imagine, the place is quite different with so many of our friends and colleagues now back in their home countries. But those of us left behind are managing, and certainly have enough academic work to keep us busy.

Notwithstanding academics, when I arrived in Switzerland I promised myself that I’d take advantage of the ease with which one can travel throughout Europe. Trains here are frequent, extensive, and reliable, and air travel is dirt cheap. So during my first week off I hopped on the TGV (France’s version of the high-speed train) and took a 300 km/h journey to Paris, where I met up with my ol’ buddy Stuart Greer, who’s now a London-based TV reporter. He’s been to Paris a bunch of times, and so was a great tour guide. We hit the usual spots: the Eiffel Tower, Champs d’Elysées, the Louvre, Notre-Dame Basilica, etc. I totally felt like a tourist, but it was good fun.

The following weekend it was off to the Mediterranean coast—Monaco, more specifically—where my erstwhile Quebec cathedral colleague Wally Raymond is now chaplain of St. Paul’s, the Church of England congregation in Monte Carlo. Since my visit included a Sunday, Wally invited me to preach. I was privileged to do so, and it was an extra treat because it was the first time I’d ever celebrated Mothering Sunday, which the Church of England still customarily observes on the fourth Sunday of Lent. A still further treat to my trip to the Riviera was the last-minute decision by my friends Christian Schreiner and Esperanza Rada (with whom, as you’ll recall below, I spent some of the Christmas holidays) to drive from Bavaria to join us. Wally, Christian and I were on all staff at the cathedral in Quebec for about six months in 2004, so it made for a nice reunion.

I realize that my choice and frequency of blog entries may leave the impression that I’m doing not much more over here than traipsing around Europe. I am, in fact, studying. (I’ve got my first semester transcripts if anyone would like proof!) Since those of us remaining for these final months are completing master degrees, the curriculum has kicked up some notches accordingly. The courses are of the seminar type, and include the themes of church and state, healing and reconciliation, inter-religious dialogue, and methodology—all from an ecumenical perspective, of course. The whole while, we’re also to be working on our 100-page dissertations. I’ll be finalizing a topic soon, and will keep you posted, should you be interested.

A week in the Eternal City

My first semester here ended with our entire class embarking on a week-long study trip to Rome, as guests of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity.

We were put up in a guesthouse that looked down on St. Peter’s Square, and were guided through all of the sites you’d expect to see: St. Peter’s Basilica, the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican Museum, the Coliseum and other ancient Roman ruins, catacombs where the first persecuted Christians worshiped, and the list goes on.

At least as interesting was the opportunity to enter into discussion with members of the Roman Curia, particularly from the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, which is the Vatican’s official ecumenical department. We were to have met with Walter Cardinal Kasper, the head of that council, but regrettably the timing never worked out. However, the council’s staff were generous with their time and insights.

Our group also attended the pope’s weekly general audience, many of us getting a chance to shake (or kiss) the pontiff’s hand and exchange a few pleasantries.

All in all, a good trip. A lot to absorb in just a handful of days. Our very last assignment this semester was a short reflective paper on our sojourn through the Vatican. Mine’s a little on the frank side. If you’re interested, here it is:

It is perhaps not surprising that my most significant reflections on our study visit to Rome center on the bishop of Rome. Ambivalence might best describe the feelings provoked in me—between having the deepest of respect for this most historic of episcopal offices in the church, and also having reservations about how this office has evolved within the context of the Roman Catholic Church.

Wednesday’s general audience in a way crystallized this ambivalence for me. I personally found it surreal: 10,000 people gathered in a gargantuan chamber constructed specifically for this purpose, singing, cheering, crying, shouting “Viva il papa!” At times I felt more like a spectator at a sporting event than a pilgrim in the presence of the successor of Peter. I tried to imagine a similar scene involving the archbishop of Canterbury, and simply could not.

The devotion still paid the present pope’s immediate predecessor is also illustrative. During our tour of St. Peter’s Basilica, the reliquary of Saint Peter was given relatively scant regard when compared to the sarcophagus of John Paul II, which had a never-ending cue of the devout praying and paying their respects.

My reactions perhaps seem visceral, but I suspect they are not atypical of many non-Roman Catholics. There exists a real unease about the manner in which the pope (whoever he might be at any given time) is revered as an individual, and around the nature of the authority he exercises within the church. This latter issue, as was discussed with staff members of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, continues to be a stumbling block in the Vatican’s ecumenical dialogues, particularly with the Anglicans and Orthodox. There is a willingness among many in these two traditions to recognize the universal primacy of the bishop of Rome. However, significant questions and concerns remain about the exact nature of this primacy and the manner in which it ought to be exercised.

Part of me fears that my reactions are at least partly the result of a kind of latent anti-Catholicism, perhaps conditioned by having been raised Protestant and then becoming Anglican in an overwhelmingly majority Catholic context. The American theologian Philip Jenkins calls anti-Catholicism “the last acceptable prejudice,” and he observes that such a lasting, hierarchical, and self-assured institution as the Roman Catholic Church provides an easy target for critics. During our study visit, this was (for me, at least) exemplified in some of the sharp-ended remarks of the dean of the Waldensian theological faculty and the pointed and aggressive questions (or diatribes) of some of my classmates.

As for Rome itself, ambivalence might also best describe the feelings the Eternal City drew out of me. Rome was—and in some ways remains—the center of the Christian world. Walking in the steps (or at least through the same streets or neighbourhoods) as Peter and Paul is undoubtedly inspiring. So too is visiting the catacombs where the first fearful Roman Christians gathered to worship, and the Coliseum where so many of those same faithful were martyred.

And yet the manner in which some of these holy sites of devotion have been popularized is at times troubling. It is not easy to be prayerful in the jail where Saint Peter was imprisoned when people are posing for photographs and cameras are flashing. It is a challenge to be solemn before holy relics when your guide tells you that you have only a few seconds and the next tour is right behind you. It is difficult to feel like you are in a consecrated place of worship such as the Sistine Chapel when you are shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of other people craning their necks at the ceiling and regular loudspeaker announcements exhort you to be silent and to refrain from taking photographs. One wonders if this is perhaps a modern-day version of what Martin Luther encountered during his life-changing trip to Rome 500 years ago.

Consequently, I more than once had difficulty deciding whether I was a pilgrim, a tourist, or a student. Similarly, it would seem many of Rome’s holy sites—even Saint Peter’s Basilica itself—are challenged to clearly define their vocation. Are they holy sites of pilgrimage, popular tourist attractions, or particularly elaborate museums? Can these identities harmoniously coexist or are they mutually exclusive?

And so I leave Rome behind with a mixture of feelings, both positive and not so positive. But above all I leave Rome behind appreciative of the opportunity to explore some of those feelings by encountering this remarkable place firsthand.

Division in the Church: plus ça change

So, as you can see, I’m not doing so hot on my new year’s resolution. Briefly put, the Christmas break was grand, with the notable exception of catching the 24-hour Norovirus in Germany. More enjoyable was catching up with my friend and erstwhile colleague Christian Schreiner (right, with baby Felix in the stroller) and his wife, Esperanza. There being practically no snow at all around Geneva, it was an added treat to go to a place that actually looked a little like Christmas. The break was capped off with a fun few days in swinging London with my pal, Stu. Now it's back to reality. Term papers are in, but I’m still up to my ears in preparation for oral exams. Hence, I now have time to procrastinate and do a blog entry.

One of our term-end assignments was to do a brief reflection on an assigned piece of scripture, paying special attention to our particular national and ecclesial contexts, as well as our term's overarching theme of mission. My Bible passage was Acts 15:22-35, and, if you're interested, here are my reflections:

I cannot read this passage of scripture without calling to mind the deep divisions currently faced by my own Anglican Church of Canada and the worldwide Anglican Communion. This biblical text shows us the immediate aftermath of the controversial decision of the apostles and elders meeting in council at Jerusalem to “not trouble those Gentiles who are turning to God” (Acts 15:21) by obliging them to be circumcised and to follow Jewish ritual law. In Canada, Anglicans are dealing with the immediate aftermath of last year’s controversial decision by General Synod—our “apostles and elders” meeting in council at Winnipeg—that the blessing of same-gender unions is not in conflict with core Christian doctrine. In both cases, we see churches struggling to discern what are the “essentials” (v. 28) of the faith, and what are matters of secondary importance.

Part of the fallout from that ruling in Canada is the recent decision by two retired Canadian bishops to leave the communion of the Anglican Church of Canada and instead come under the canonical jurisdiction of the Anglican Church of the Southern Cone. While technically under the oversight of the primate of this South American province, these bishops intend to reside and practice their episcopal ministry in Canada, ostensibly ministering to disaffected Anglicans upset with their church’s approach to questions of human sexuality.

This action, controversial in itself, has produced a flurry of reactions. In a recent pastoral letter to his church, the Canadian primate warned that any ministry exercised by these bishops would be considered “inappropriate, unwelcome and invalid.” In the primate’s letter, I can hear echoes of the epistle those gathered in Jerusalem penned to the Gentile converts, warning them about “certain persons who have gone out from us, though with no instructions from us” (16:24).

At issue—both in first-century apostolic church in Jerusalem and the twenty-first century Anglican church in Canada—is authority. Those “certain persons” about whom the Jerusalem Christians warn were speaking without the church’s blessing or sanction and were, in fact, contradicting the church’s authoritative decision. Similarly, these Canadian bishops are acting in direct violation of accepted church polity and their own denomination’s authoritative decision, albeit a decision with which they profoundly disagree.

For me this then raises the issue of how a church body exercises decision making. Acts 15 makes the resolution of even so controversial an issue as the circumcision of non-Jewish converts sound relatively simple. We are told that after “much debate” (v. 7), “the whole assembly kept silence” (v. 12), and then James “reached the decision” for the council (v. 19), and that decision “seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” (v. 28).

Indeed, this last verse is one sometimes invoked by supporters of the Anglican Church of Canada’s ruling on the compatibility of blessing same-sex relationships with Christian teaching. Another part of Acts is sometimes also cited: “[I]f this plan or this undertaking is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them—in that case you may even be found fighting against God!” (5:38-39). But how does the body of Christ in any given place or time correctly discern what is “of God”? How do we know that what might seem good to us (for example, the blessing of same-gender unions) also seems good to the Holy Spirit? These are some of the questions and struggles this passage currently provokes in me, given my own context.

How then does any of this relate to mission? For the Jerusalem church, the answer is clear. A firm decision having now been made by the church leadership—and “with the consent of the whole church” (v. 22)—the evangelization of the Gentiles could now proceed unabated. For my Anglican Church of Canada, however, the question still hangs. While a decision has been made, it by no means enjoys unanimous consent—either within the Canadian church or outside in the worldwide Anglican Communion. The witness we offer to our country and to the world is frequently a fractured one, and one that often seems myopic and out of touch with the greater issues facing humanity and creation. And as we involved in the ecumenical movement are so painfully aware, our tendency to focus on that which divides us rather than unites often obscures the very Christ who we are called to proclaim.