Standing in the Presence....

This is a story almost thirty years old now; but I continue to remember and to tell it.

I was a student in my first unit of Clinical Pastoral Education, during the summer between my Junior and Middler years of seminary. That was a difficult summer, and a rewarding one, and both in many ways.

I was on call for the day. Late in the afternoon the pager went off. I was paged to one of the intensive care units to support a family after a patient’s death. I made my way to the unit down the back stairs so that I could speak with the nursing staff before meeting with the family. It turned out that the patient was the husband of a staff member, a unit clerk of long tenure. I prayed at the bedside for the departed, and then went to the waiting room to meet the family.

I walked into a waiting room, a room perhaps twenty feet by twelve. One wall had been painted with a mural. All the seating, a small couch flanked by side chairs, was spread along the opposite wall, the better, I suppose, to view the mural. And in those seats was the patient’s family, his wife flanked by children and children-in-law. I walked into the room, faced the wife, and introduced myself. She looked up and said in a flat, strained voice, “I know you.”

Her tone terrified me. I didn’t know how to interpret it. Was it “I know you and I’m relieved”? Was it “I know you and I want you to go away”? I was stunned, uncertain. I had no words. I wanted to flee. The best I could do was to stand at parade rest, my feet shoulder-width apart, my hands behind my back, and my back to the painted wall. I stood there, silent, stared at by the family, for at least three days.

Or perhaps it was only a few minutes. Soon another chaplain arrived, a second-year CPE resident who knew the wife well and had followed the patient’s illness. She settled down in the midst of the family, and said to me, “Why don’t you go into the unit and stay at the bedside? You can support family in there and I will support family out here.” I walked when I wanted to run; but in any case I was so very glad to be rescued! Between the two of us we cared for the family, and I managed to stumble silently through the family’s grief.

Several weeks later, the CPE resident came to me. “Mrs. So-and-so is back at work. You need to go see her.”

“Go see her?!?” I asked, incredulous. “I can’t go see her. I was helpless, useless, a failure! I certainly didn’t care for her then, and I can’t go see her now.”

The resident insisted. “You need to go see her.”

So, I girded up my loins, at least emotionally, and I went to her unit. She was at her desk, working, as I approached. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” she said, “I did want to see you. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your presence the night my husband died. Just your being there meant so much to me.”

I was floored, metaphorically, and almost literally. I had little more sense what to say then than I had had the night of the death. This time I did manage to thank her, and to tell her I was glad I could help. She returned to her work, and I made my way back to my own unit, confused, amazed.

As I said, I have told this story for almost thirty years, and to this day I cannot tell it without reliving that sense of awe and wonder. I had not a word, not even a thought, to offer in that crisis, and yet I had demonstrated care – the care I wanted to offer, the care God had to offer through me, all by grace. In all the years I’ve been in this business I have seen again and again that in fact this is true: it is presence, first and foremost, that demonstrates the presence of God. Any technique beyond that is simply detail, nuance. It is the fact of compassion made incarnate, made solid and tangible in caring presence, even helpless presence, that shows the presence of Christ in the midst of suffering.

And so I continue to tell this story to CPE students, many of them at the beginning of their experience. “Don’t worry if you don’t know what to do. Be there for them. Be there for them, loving as best you can. And never underestimate the power of simple presence to show the love of God.”

The Episcopal Church and Plymouth Rock

As I’ve been mulling over the consequences of General Convention, and looking at what others have written about it, a thought struck me. There is a way in which both sides in the American church are reflecting our “Puritan heritage.”

Now, before someone jumps all over me to say they he or she is not Puritan, but their opponent is; or that reference to Puritans is offensive; let me say more about the source of the idea.

I’m not talking about the Puritans of history, but the Puritans of American civil myth. The “Puritan heritage” of America as I was taught it, long ago, was of a people who were oppressed because they were religious nonconformists (only later would I learn that they were non-Conformists), a counterculture group if you will, and so they were forced to flee, to find a safe place where they could build “the city on a hill.” I know that in recent years we’ve been much more aware of how they established their own conformity, and oppressed their own victims; but in my childhood the model of victims seeking religious freedom was what was taught. Now, remember, too, that the vocal participants in these arguments – on both sides - are my age, near enough, and rarely much younger.

Now, how does this play out? One set of neo-Puritans recapitulates that vision as they seek to purify the American mainline tradition, the received tradition in which they live – in this case, 20th century liberal theology based on trying to balance 19th Century modern theology with existentialism and Neo-orthodoxy. They don’t particularly want to go, but feel forced to flee to establish their own purified community of faith.

Another set of neo-Puritans (in this limited sense) recapitulates that vision seeking to purify the American evangelical tradition, the received tradition in which they live – in this case, American religious exceptionalism overlaid with 19th century evangelicalism and Biblicism. To do this they must flee from the larger community into the Episcopal Church as safe place, and seek to build in it the “city on the hill.” They want to live safely in their counterculture.

Both sides embrace their own awareness of being victims (and whether one agrees or not, both side do express that awareness) and their mission into the wilderness to create the holy city. Each alleges the other is allied with an oppressing establishment. Each feels threatened by displacement, being forced out, when all each wants is to live out the Christian faith as each sees it.

These difficulties are, perhaps, so very American in concept, at least within the Episcopal Church. We are all, I think, caught up in this reliving of a foundational American myth. I don’t think we really recognize how that has shaped both sides. I don’t think our colleagues around the world even have the thought that this might be how we see ourselves, whichever side we’re on.

Goodbye, Columbus; Which Way to Anaheim?

Well, the 75th General Convention of the Episcopal Church is done, as are most of those who were participants - done as in "done in." It is a long process. As is always the case, there were matters that were not attended to. By action of the House (at least in Deputies), resolutions scheduled but not completed were referred to interim bodies - the Commissions, Committees, Agencies, and Boards (CCAB's) that generated the "A" resolutions in the Blue Book.

However, the most important matters were addressed. They were not necessarily addressed in the forms originally submitted. Most of the resolutions of the Special Commission on the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion were changed and changed again before they were acted on. There will, of course, be many comments about who won and who lost on those actions. I don't know that any statement would be trustworthy that asserts clarity on that. I think many people were sad at some things and relieved at others. I think the Convention did respond to the Windsor Report as best this Convention could, and indeed responded more than adequately. I don't think there's any real ground for triumphalism on anyone's part.

As for my own concerns? Well, Resolution D023 on Principles on Decisions at the End of Life was passed by the Conjoint Education Committee, and was passed in the House of Bishops, but could not be addressed in the House of Deputies before the time for Convention ran out. This wasn't the only resolution to suffer that fate, nor even the most important, my own interest notwithstanding. I expect it will be referred to an interim Commission - hopefully the Commission on Health, although I don't know for sure yet whether the Bishops passed that.

There were a number of resolutions related to health care that did pass, and as I spoke to some before Convention, I will, over the next little while, speak to some of those that did pass. In the meantime, like many others, I will be working on processing what was accomplished, and preparing for next steps.

The New Presiding Bishop

No doubt by now you've heard the news: the new Presiding Bishop-elect of the Episcopal Church is Katharyn Jefferts Schori, currently Bishop of Nevada. This is, to say the least, a surprise; for some, probably a great shock.

Let me say two things. First, as far as I know this was not expected by anyone. That's not a question of her qualifications, but of the current concerns in the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. After all, those in the Communion who were disturbed with the American church about GLBT persons and relationships were already disturbed with the American church about the ordination of women. No doubt that this will be seen by some as an affront, if not a specific confrontation. So, many of us have thought that, whatever her qualifications, the bishops would not make that choice lest it create even more tension (although some would say that's not possible). For many the very unlikeliness of this will be an indication of the Holy Spirit at work. The American church as a whole is not, as near as I can tell, looking to make an "in your face" statement for its own sake. So, this seems new enough to suggest the work of the Spirit.

Second, from everything I have heard and read she is very qualified. Indeed, I have heard hearsay of bishops who, thinking her unlikely, have said that in any case she was certainly qualified.

So, what will this do to the Episcopal Church and to the Anglican Communion? Some will certainly be upset. This will not do much to quiet those most angry voices. This will do much to please those who feel the Gospel imperative for justice has been given more lip service than true notice. As for the rest: we'll just have to see what kind of Presiding Bishop she is. If most of the world will give her a chance (acknowledging that there will be those who don't), I think they may see that we indeed want to be in the Anglican Communion, and that we want our context for ministry to receive as much respect as that of our brothers and sisters in the Third World. If we will respond with prayer, and give ourselves all a chance, this may well be the best evidence we can provide of our experience of God's grace in the ministry of all God's children.

The Prayer of the Whole (Episcopal) Church

Ever Episcopalian should spend some time at the General Convention. The fact that it only happens once every three years makes it more complicated, but it also gives plenty of time to make plans.

I have been known to say that attending General Convention can make or break one's faith. There is an awful lot of what we would decry as bare (and sometimes bare-knuckles) political activity. So, there's an awful lot of boredom interspersed with moments of rhetorical fervor and sometimes rhetorical fireworks. It sometimes seems there are backroom deals (I'm not saying there aren't any, but I haven't been invited to any myself), and there are certainly enough conspiracy theorists to express that concern. There is plenty of procedural machinations, and sometimes some procedural artistry so great that you have to appreciate it, even if you don't appreciate the result.

At the same time, if you spend time at a General Convention, you will discover it is not primarily a political event, either in form or substance. Yes, legislative sessions happen. After all, this is the central event for governing what we have come to see is a global church, with churches from Germany to Guam. However, the context is and remains prayer and worship. The central event of the day, to which everyone is invited, is the Eucharist. The prayers change, and the music changes, and even the languages change (and, yes, all us English speakers happily cope); but it is always Eucharist. And even the legislative sessions stop for offices at Noonday. In addition, this year they've added, at least in the House of Deputies, speakers to address their own lives and histories of faith. Imagine: in an Episcopal event the most important testifying isn't before legislative committees, but before the House gathered.

Even the Exhibit Hall waits. Participants don't get to browse through the publishers or check out the vestments until Eucharist is over, and the legislative day is begun: all things in proper order. And the best thing about the Exhibit Hall isn't the books (and this from someone who could accumulate them entirely too happily). It is the many ministries of the church - chaplaincies, religious orders and communities, services to the poor at home and abroad - that are the highlights of the Exhibits. At home and abroad we are seeking to give care or to support care both inside and outside the church. There is a breadth of ministry in this Church that one can only really get a glimpse of when they're all collected at General Convention. It is eye-opening and exciting. And this, too, will not start each day until after Eucharist and prayer.

For all the attention that the world will give to our struggles to express where we see God leading us in the Holy Spirit, and to somehow invite everyone to walk with us, even if not in the same rhythm - for all that, this is the Body of Christ, or at least our member of it, gathered to pray and worship and ask God's guidance; and then only in that context, that environment, to make decisions.

I've been told that watching laws made is like watching sausage made: most people would really rather not really know what went into it. In General Convention, however, I'd like to show it off. Here all the members of this part of the Body - lay folk, bishops, priests, and deacons, the Youth Experience and the Senior Deputies, the ministries of prayer and the ministries of publishing - here they ask first for the blessing and the guidance of God; and then they move forward, as best they can.