Tainted journalism

The July edition of the diocesan newsletter, The Central Florida Episcopalian, makes it clear the direction our bishop is determined to take us.

The lead article is called "On Ice - ACC asks North American churches to withdraw until 2008 Lambeth Conference."

Inside, 10 pages are devoted to the Network, with articles like "ACN states it purpose and its passion," the ACN take on the Windsor Action Covenant, the ACN take on the state of the Anglican Communion, and a report on the Anglican Consultive Council meeting by one of the diocese's most arch-conservative Network-pushing priests.

At least they did print the Archbishop's speech.

It's obvious the direction the Bishop is determined to go. He wants to jump the Episcopalian ship, bewailing, as ever, how the Episcopal Church has sailed away from him.

Boo-hoo.

Well, this is the second attempted coup he's been part of. The first one was the old PECUSA try to replace ECUSA in the late 1990's, which included an attempt to grab the pension funds. The then-Presiding Bishop put his foot firmly down on that, and the parties skulked back to their lairs to lick their wounds and plot some more. So the crying doesn't get any sympathy from me.

The Episcopal Voices group has galvanized over this latest issue of the newsletter, and they've written a response to it. At last, the scales seemed to have fallen from their eyes. It wasn't long ago most seemed taken by the Bishop's charm and manipulations, believing his line that he isn't really pushing the Network, he's just an innocent victim of circumstances, being blamed for what the people want. I'm not hearing that any more.

Who knows if the Voices response will be published. It should be, if anyone at the top is really interested in a dialogue. Somehow, I don't think they are.

I haven't kept up with everything going on this summer, mostly just read Father Jake's postings about the meetings and machinations. I've been wrapped up in my own stuff and haven't had the psychic energy for it.

The Bishop and his other bishop buddies can do what they want. I'm not leaving the Episcopal Church. If it's taken away from me, I'll go somewhere else, but not into any Network-Southern Cone whatever. Many of the people who might follow them into it, where they'll feel safe from gay bishops and other "innovations," will regret it before long.

I'm sick of the heavy-handed tactics in this diocese.

Sighs too deep for words

God knows I've been put out with him, lately. God, that is.

I call God a "him" because I've had the evil thought that God must be a man: demanding proof of my love for him, while offering me naught but promises. Last week, I shocked (priest) Mother Marvelous with this insight.

(She told me I'm beyond my mother's words now. Do I want to hang onto the stuff from the past and be miserable, or reach out to God's love and acceptance?)

I've been all elbows and knees with God lately, pushing him away. Yet, he keeps coming 'round. I feel his soft breath on my cheek. I feel his enveloping comfort.

I hear his words, that I am his beloved, made beautiful and perfect by his love. I am the apple of his eye, a treasured jewel. He, who knows even when the sparrow falls, knows the number of hairs on my head. He cherishes each one. He will never let me slip through his fingers. Indeed, he holds me in the palm of his hand. My name is inscribed on it. He rejoices over me with singing.

For the past few years, these words have slowly been overcoming all the negative ones I learned in childhood and still heard in adulthood. It hasn't been an easy job. I can hold onto hurts.

God's been holding onto me tighter.

While I can't claim to be the poster girl for positive self-image, I know things have been changing and are still changing in me. Not because of my strength, but because of God's unwillingness to let go.

The Gospel reading for today was perfect. Romans 8:26-39:

"The Sprit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God..."

I've been emotional (a mess!) and over-sensitive the last few weeks, not formulating much in the way of prayers. But Spirit, I feel your sighs. I think you've been timing them to mine.

It is not Jesus who condemns. That comes from weak human flesh. Jesus intercedes for me. He is the one right beside me through all this nastiness, pulling me toward wholeness.

"... Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? ... No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Thank you, Lord, for holding onto me and talking to me. Thank you for the healing that is going on in me. And God, thank you for putting marvelous people into my life. You talk to me through them, too.

A tropical depression

It's summer in Florida. Hot, humid, oppressive. Summer means hurricane season, too. Many people here in Central Florida are anxious at the thought of it, after the three-time clobbering we got last year. It was traumatic.

Even nervous public officials are praying this year.

The ground is still saturated with last year's water, and we've had higher-than-usual rainfall amounts the past few months. Lakes and water-retention areas are full and overflowing already, and there's nowhere for stormwater to go but up. We'll have massive flooding if we get heavy hurricane rains.

Last year's hurricane season was awful -- unrelenting storms, damp spots on the ceiling, trees down, a hole in the fence, bathing in cold water out of buckets and a sweltering house with no electricity for six days at a time -- and I was luckier than many.

Coming home through a dark neighborhood to a pitch-dark, dank, damp house. Trying sweatily to sleep. Leaving the patio door open and windows open all night and all day, an open invitation to burglars. Better than roasting to death, though.

Not one single member of my family attempted to contact me and check on my wellbeing, except for my late father's cousin's widow, many states away. Bless her.

I have even less sense of family this year. One brother is dead, the other two acting mean (the usual). We all suffered from a lack of love from my mother. It affected us all differently.

I wrote a parody last year that included a character called "Sanctimonius." I later realized that in the character Sanctimonius, I had written about my older brother's rage and jealousy toward me and my gay brother, the one who is dead now. My older brother's anger was buried under the surface for many years, though, where the fictional character's was visible on the surface.

My youngest brother acts like a pompous, judgmental Pharisee. A good right-wing Christian, he looks down on the likes of me.

We were each affected differently by the emotional atmosphere in which we grew up. I felt unlovable, unpretty and that I could do nothing right, because that's the message I got. My brothers picked up on that message, too, and treated me the same way.

Now, my mother's Alzheimers disease is progressing rapidly. She can't keep track of what she's saying, or who's who of the people who are around her every day. There's no way to work on that relationship.

The truth is, I don't want to have a relationship with my brothers any more. I won't put up with being bullied, put down or used any more. It's not as if they want anything to do with me, either.

I can only love them with Christ's love: to know that He sees them as sinners, and loves them anyway, just as He sees me in my sins and failings and loves me anyway. I can't go any further than that at this point, except to ask for healing for each of us.

I feel very alone. I'm grateful for my friends and church family, but I'm alone in a way most of them could never grasp.

Things are crappy and it's hurricane season again. I guess I'm strong enough to deal with it all, but I want healing and wholeness and some sense of security in my life.

I'm asking, God. With all my heart.

Mission to Honduras

Here, finally, is the story of the mission trip to Honduras:

I went to Honduras as part of a 15-person mission team from my church.

We went to an orphanage for young boys called El Hogar de Amor y Esperanza (The Home of Love and Hope), near the capital city of Tegucigalpa.

We would help, about 15 miles away, to construct new buildings at a technical school, where the older boys learn welding, auto mechanics and other trades, also as part of the El Hogar Projects.

Our first introduction to the country’s poverty came as we left the airport terminal and started the short trek across the parking lot to a bus waiting to take us to El Hogar. About 10 boys between the ages of 5 and 12 beset us, begging for money.

“Please,” they said, lifting their hands to their mouths as if eating, to explain they were hungry.

“Please,” they implored, looking at us with big sad eyes.

The orphanage staff said not to give them any money. We were told family members send these children out to beg.

The team climbed aboard the bus, and the children surrounded it, climbing onto a wall next to the bus, poking hands and arms through the windows, still begging.

Following the driver’s advice, we put the windows up, and the boys rapped on the windows until the luggage was loaded aboard and the bus began to inch out of the parking lot.

Police and military personnel stand on almost every corner in Tegucigalpa, and in public places like parks and restaurants, armed with semiautomatic weapons.

The government is relatively stable, but crime is high, especially in the larger cities like Tegucigalpa and San Pedro Sula. Many Hondurans carry weapons for self-defense.

The orphanage, like most buildings in Honduras, is walled for safety. The bus driver honked to get the guard’s attention, and the gate slid back to let the bus enter.

Our quarters were dormitory-style rooms the orphanage provides for visiting teams, with the women in one room and the men next door. There was no air-conditioning, which wasn’t a terrible hardship, as Tegucigalpa is in the mountains, where the air cools at night.

Because of lack of equipment, water is provided to cities only every other day. The orphanage has a cistern, but the wall had been damaged in a recent storm. Our showers were sporadic, and in cold water.

The water is not potable, and we were told to use bottled water, even to wash our faces and brush our teeth. The Hondurans drank bottled water, as well.

The boys of El Hogar

The El Hogar compound in Tegucigalpa houses boys through sixth grade. After that, they can attend Santa Maria Technical Institute at the new location in Amarateca, about 15 miles outside Tegucigalpa, or at an agricultural school, to learn farming and animal husbandry.

The executive director for El Hogar Projects explained, “It would be cruel to take these boys off the streets for so many years, then just throw them back.”

By learning a trade, these boys can earn a decent living, and go back to the barrio or community they’re from, and contribute to it.
About 50 percent of people in the cities live in extreme poverty, the director explained, and more than 70 percent of people in rural areas live in extreme poverty.

The per-capita gross national income is $970, according to Unicef. Honduras is about the size of Tennessee, with a population just over 6.5 million.

Unendurable poverty brings most of the boys to El Hogar. They are not orphans in the traditional sense. Most have parents. The children at El Hogar are the ones who have been abandoned because they represent an extra mouth to feed when there is no food.

Boys are tossed out much more often than girls in a machismo culture, where it is assumed boys can fend for themselves better than girls can. Many of the boys have been told they are trash. A number of them were found going through trash heaps and were brought to the orphanage.

In fact, just about every trash container in Tegucigalpa has someone going through it, even in the poorest sections of town, though what the searchers may find is a mystery. People who have nothing pretty much have nothing edible or usable to throw away.

Gangs are growing in the cities of Honduras, as these boys look for acceptance, belonging and a way to survive. They contribute to the crime.

The El Hogar director old the group about one young boy who was found living under a bridge with his mother. There was no shelter, no sanitation, no food. The mother agreed to let the little boy go to El Hogar, where she could visit him.

Many boys have family members who come visit them, and to whom they go at Christmas other holidays.

When the little boy was shown his bed to sleep in, he said, “Really? A bed? For me?” He had never slept in a bed before.

The three facilities of El Hogar are home to about 200 boys. This orphanage and others barely touch the tip of the iceberg of need.

After a few days in Tegucigalpa, I e-mailed this note back to The Church of Open Arms:

“We all went to Honduras, and guess where we went for lunch? MCDONALDS hahaha. Seriously, it was great. We took a number of the boys from El Hogar there and they had a great time. Any outing is a treat for them ... The kids at the orphanage have nothing compared to our standards, yet they are, for the most part, the lucky kids around here. They have three meals a day, their own beds to sleep in, safety and people to care about them. The orphanage is poor, too, but the staff is very caring.”

That staff didn’t want any of the missionary group fussing over the children as if they were “poor little boys.” They want these children to look upon themselves with pride. They are loved, valued and cared for.

The technical institute

The van ride to Santa Maria Technical Institute is an unforgettable experience. Right-of-way is determined by skill and guts. Drivers honk to let other drivers know the vehicle will be sailing through an intersection. This is done with a short toot. A longer blast means you’ve made the driver mad, and/or “Get out of the way.”

Passing on the mountain highway is an exercise in perfect timing. It was common for us to cringe as we saw a bus barreling around an 18-wheel rig toward us, cutting back into its lane with inches to spare.

Only the brave sat next to the driver, with a close-up view of oncoming traffic.

We passed a camp for displaced people, constructed for those left homeless by Hurricane Mitch, which devastated Central America in 1998. The camp is still full of people living in tiny, raw cinderblock homes on muddy paths.

We left the main highway for dirt roads the last mile or two, passing small homes, chickens, horses and mules.

The new technical institute’s administration building is the former home of a doctor, built Spanish-style, with rooms around an inner court. Around it, a classroom building and bathrooms had already been erected, and footers for a dormitory were being set.

Our team was one of a number of teams coming in for one-week terms, each picking up where the last one left off. Some of us painted walls inside the classroom building, while others (mostly the men) worked on the new construction.

They achieved a level of sore muscles heretofore never met. Everything was done manually. Mountainous, Honduran soil is rocky. Boulders had to be split with a pickax before they could be removed for the footers. It rained, and the workers had to bail water out of the holes before they could continue digging.

The Hondurans working alongside the Grace mission-team members were not fazed by the work. They were used to it.

In fact, during the trip, the team noted how hard the Hondurans work for just a few dollars a day at a construction job, or at the backbreaking job of farming on steep slopes on the side of a mountain. There is simply no way out of poverty for most. There is no infrastructure, nor any social services to help people.
Honduras is one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere.

The team would have never guessed all this by the smiling faces that greeted them. A number of the boys who attend the institute were gone on summer break, but the five or six who had nowhere to go enthusiastically helped the women on the painting team. The boys seemed especially enchanted by the team’s younger members.

We communicated with our young helpers — as we did with most Hondurans — using a combination of trial and error Spanish and English and pantomime. Tegucigalpa and the surrounding region are not tourist destinations, and few locals speak English.

The boys at the orphanage study English in school, and we were greeted every morning with: “Hello. How are you?” from the little ones. The older boys continue to study English at the institute, but they were shy about attempting any until they were comfortable enough with us to overcome their fear of embarrassment.

They were curious about the United States and wanted to visit it sometime. They couldn’t grasp the idea of Florida’s flat land.

"No mountains?" they asked incredulously, in Spanish.

Concept of hospitality

The mission team was lavished with hospitality. The typical meal is beans, rice and tortillas.

Yet, we from the land of plenty were served eggs when there weren’t enough for the children. Strong coffee was brewed just for us.
Patricia, the cook at the technical institute, prepared delicious lunches with chicken or beef for us every day.

It was an embarrassment of riches.

Everyone went out of their way to make us comfortable, and they were patient with our lack of understanding about how things work in Honduras.

Sad goodbyes

The last night of the mission, the team served delivery pizzas and soft drinks to the children at El Hogar. This is a customary thing for mission teams to do there, and the boys love it.

The boys presented each missionary with a handmade thank-you card and many hugs. The teenage members of the team, who had spent a lot of time playing marbles (a favorite pastime) and other games with the boys, had grown attached to the youngsters and didn’t want to leave them.

We all came home with a sense of how privileged we are compared to most of the world, and a desire to share what we have with others, as we are called to do.

I will remember the beauty of Honduras' mountains, and her people.

Remembering my brother

Those of you who have been reading my entries for a while might remember my brother Toby (the other brother). Toby felt himself a misfit in this world his whole life.

Toby died in the early morning hours of Saturday, June 11. I was still in Honduras, on the mission trip.

A friend was checking phone messages for me while I was gone. She found a message to call the hospital, but when she did, they wouldn't tell her anything. She called the rector at my church, who talked to the hospital and was able to obtain the fact Toby had died. The rector contacted the priest leading the mission trip, who is also a dear friend, and she told me the news in the early morning hours last Monday, before we departed for the return trip home.

I'm glad I was surrounded by caring people when I found out.

I knew Toby's alcoholism would kill him eventually, because it didn't look like he would ever be sober for more than a brief period now and then. But I was thinking in terms of several years or so, not in months. I didn't expect it to get him this quickly.

Toby had a condition called esophageal varices. It's a complication of cirrhosis of the liver: the organ becomes so scarred that the portal vein and others that flow into it from the stomach and spleen, etc. become blocked. The distended vessels eventually start bleeding.

Toby had been admitted to the hospital a couple of days earlier, then apparently took a nose dive -- started hemorrhaging -- on that Friday evening. He was transferred to intensive care, where he died at 1:58 a.m. Saturday. Someone told me they tried to resuscitate him a couple of times.

I spent a long, hard day travelling. We left the hotel at 2 a.m. EDT, on a three-hour chartered bus from Copan to San Pedro Sula, took a plane to Tegucigalpa, then flew to Miami and Orlando, then travelled by van. I got home about 11 p.m. that night, driven the last leg by a church friend, as they wouldn't let me go home alone. I talked to the hospital, then called my other two brothers and told them the news.

I also suggested they should handle Toby's burial. I was tired and grieving and felt like they could handle something, for a change.

Anyway, they set Toby up to be cremated, then have his ashes shipped up north to be buried in a plot my parents bought when they purchased their own plots.

I went to the crematorium and said prayers over Toby's body,using prayers for the dead from the Book of Common Prayer, and also some words of baptism. (I don't think Toby had ever been baptized, as I hadn't been, either, until I came into the church as an adult.)

I don't think Toby should be just dumped in a cardboard box, then shoved into an oven, without any prayers. Again, a friend from church went with me.

The one good thing that's come out of this mess is I have experienced the love my surrogate family of friends and church members have for me. They have been there for me every step of the way. The priests at my church interrupted their busy schedules, and one came out of a sick bed to celebrate a full memorial/funeral service for Toby. They didn't know him, but they did it out of caring for me. As did other members of the church, my friends and my co-workers.

A couple of Toby's co-workers came to the service, too, and his supervisor talked about how Toby was always friendly and was patient and generous in helping train new staff.

I had attended a brief memorial held at Toby's workplace, and it was obvious they were all stunned by his death. They all liked Toby, although he was private and secretive, and didn't let anyone get close. No one even knew where he lived. His supervisor dubbed him "Secret Squirrel."

A friend of mine who had gotten to know Toby a little talked about him at the service, too, and told of a funny experience we all shared.

These remembrances all made me feel much better. Toby won't just be disposed of, as if his life had no meaning and he had no value. Even the people at the service who never met him will have some memory of him, and they know his face -- I had some photos of him blown up and displayed them in the back of the chapel for the the service.

Although Toby was a restless seeker, I don't think he ever found God before he died. I know though, he has stood before God and seen the truth, and the truth set him free. He is free of all the things that bound him, and he is healed.

Toby has a room in the Kingdom that was prepared just for him. (I chose that Gospel reading for the service. Toby may not have known the way to that Kingdom, but Christ helped him get there.) I chose the second reading from Paul's letter to the Romans: Nothing can separate Toby from the love of God.

About 15 people went with me to a local Mexican restaurant after the church service, to continue a celebration of Toby's life. He would have liked that very much.

I reminded my friends that what we were sharing was just a foretaste of that heavenly banquet of which Toby is already partaking.

Toby, I'm sorry life was so hard for you. At the core, you had a gentle and sensitive soul, and the slings and arrows of life cut such people more deeply than others.

I'm sorry I wasn't there when you died. I wish I had tried harder to stay in contact with you these last months. But I'm sure you know I love you.

unSaintly Pat

Greetings from Honduras

Hello, everyone. Sorry I haven´t posted in so long. I´ve been in Honduras for more than a week on a church mission. We finished the mission part and now some of us are doing a little tourist bit.

Now, I´m in Copan, where the Mayan ruins are. I´m sending this from an internet cafe and laundry drop-off place combined.

It´s touristy here, compared to where we were for the mission, at an orphanage near Teguciegalpa, but nice, and with hot showers, air conditioning and tv in our hotel rooms, which is a luxury after the orphanage. There, when we could even get water for a shower, it was cold. But the people are just great. I´ll write more about it when I get back.

In the meantime, hasta luego, amigos. Vaya con Dios.

More of the same old stuff

Well, our Central Florida ultraconservatives are changing their names again. First, they were AAC (American Anglican Council), then Network parishes(and diocese). The latest incarnation is "Windsor Parishes," and they're acting as if the Windsor report totally validates their doctrinal position.

They're suggesting everyone should sign confessions of faith. Next thing, I suppose, will be kicking out all the parishioners who voted for John Kerry.

Maybe they could bring back the rack and the inquisition too. And witch trials.

Seven things I learned about God from my pets

I've been reflecting on the expression of love I had from Good Old Boy, a late, great golden retriever. I wonder if one reason God puts these great animals in our life is so we can learn from them.

Here are some things I've learned from my pets I can apply to my relationship with God:

1. Unconditional love. Good Old Boy showed me this time after time. His favorite thing was to lean against my legs and look into my face adoringly as I stroked him. If I was seated, he would deposit his big head on my knee and do the same thing. This is truly Agape, God's love, that is spiritual and selfless. He just loved me, no matter what.

2. Forgiveness. To have the kind of unconditional love Good Old Boy showed, one needs forgiveness. Good Old Boy came to me from awful circumstances, He had been a beloved pet, then his owner died. He was left in the rain and the wet in the back yard with no one to take him. Most of us humans would harbor some bitterness, but not Good Old Boy. He was just overjoyed to be going home with me, and he made himself right at home with me and the other animals, as if he had always lived there. Joyfully.

3. Joy. Mollie McGuire dances with joy at the prospect of going for a walk or a ride with me in the car. My cats teach me this, too, purring contentedly, taking joy in the smallest things: a ball to play with, a treat, a rub. Take joy in life.

4. Trust expectantly. Both cats, Elvis and Jack the Brat, lie on their sides or back, paws curled up against their chests, waiting for me to scratch their tummies. They leave themselves vulnerable, expecting only good things from me. And if they get what they don't expect, they forgive and forget quickly. See No. 2 again.

5. The Commandments. When Betsy was a puppy, she quickly learned it displeased me greatly if she relieved herself in the house, but she got praise and pets for going outside. Now, she will never mess in the house.

I know the things that please and displease God the most. If I can only apply that knowledge as well as Betsy does.

6. My Master's voice. All the animals are attuned to the sound of my voice and respond to it, to my instructions (well, most of the time). They recognize my moods from my voice.

7. Stewardship. I get the feeling my cats and dogs think they take care of me, and in many ways they do, as when Betsy snuggles against me to comfort me when I'm sick. The cats shower affection on me when they know I'm down. They remind me to take care of everything with which God entrusts me, including my pets.

There are so many things I could list. I want to learn to put them all into better practice.

Yes, I'm still here

I haven't blogged recently (that's obvious). My apologies to anyone who might have been to the site looking for something to read!

My household has been getting back to normal. Betsy moped for a week or so after Good Old Boy's death, then recovered.

The vet took Good Old Boy's body for cremation. I haven't received his ashes yet, but when I do, I will bury them with the roots of a plant in the yard.

There's more to tell about me, and I will blog soon.

Love to all,
the unSaintly Pat

The last of a Good Old Boy

My old Golden Retriever got down last week and couldn't get back up. I knew this day was coming -- he's been barely able to get up and down even with the help of medication to ease the pain and inflammation in his joints.

Last week, he just couldn't do it any more. The vet came out and gave him an injection to euthanize him as he lay on my kitchen floor. I had one hand on him and one hand on a worried Betsy, my Border Collie mix.

It was a painless exit from this world.

It reminded me that Jesus said he came to heal the sick, bind up the broken-hearted and set free the captives.

Jesus did all that for Good Old Boy, at different times. This was the time to free this beautiful animal from the body which had become a prison for him.

In the three years I had him, Good Old Boy was healed of heartworms by the miracles of modern science (which comes from God); he had two tumors removed from him, and he made it through the last six months only because of the medication that allowed him to get up and down. And my prayers through it all. He was deaf and he was developing cataracts.

Good Old Boy was about 10 years old when I got him. He looked to be a purebred golden retriever. Although already marked by arthritis, he could still prance at times, legs held high in the air. At the end, he couldn't lift his leg high enough to pee. He hadn't been able to lift his tail during the time I had him.

After the vet (who is a wonderful and kind young professional) left, I had a strong vision of Good Old Boy running through the green fields of the Kingdom of God, flowing red-blond fur blowing in the wind, plume of a tail held high, prancing -- and smiling that glorious retriever smile.

Good Old Boy is healed.

I imagine him joyfully reunited with his previous owner, who predeceased him.

I know that when I pass through that door, he will be there, weaving in and out, between the legs of that great cloud of witnesses, moving to joyfully greet me.

To those who say there is no heaven, I say, "Phbbbbt!"

To those who say there are no animals in heaven, I say there is certainly a place for any loving creature in heaven. These pets who are members of our families are beloved and loving and belong with us there, too.

To those who say there's a separate heaven for animals, I say it wouldn't be heaven for them without their beloved people.

In fact, don't even try to talk theology with the grieving. They don't want to hear it. Just give them a hug.

A new slant on 1984

From George Orwell's 1984 (published in 1949), on the nature of Doublethink:

"To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies, to hold simultaneously two opinions which canceled out, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them, to use logic against logic, to repudiate morality while laying claim to it, to believe that democracy was impossible and that the Party was the guardian of democracy, to forget, whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory again at the moment when it was needed, and then promptly to forget it again, and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself -- that was the ultimate subtlety; consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed. Even to understand the word 'doublethink' involved the use of doublethink."

Ron Suskind, in the New York Times online magazine, Oct. 2004, giving rise to the blogger tag "reality based." I count myself one of the reality-based bloggers:

In the summer of 2002, after I had written an article in Esquire that the White House didn’t like about Bush’s former communications director, Karen Hughes, I had a meeting with a senior adviser to Bush. He expressed the White House’s displeasure, and then he told me something that at the time I didn’t fully comprehend — but which I now believe gets to the very heart of the Bush presidency.

The aide said that guys like me were ”in what we call the reality-based community,” which he defined as people who ”believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality.” I nodded and murmured something about enlightenment principles and empiricism. He cut me off. ”That’s not the way the world really works anymore,” he continued. ”We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you’re studying that reality — judiciously, as you will — we’ll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that’s how things will sort out. We’re history’s actors … and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do.”

A word from another Anglican in Africa
God has a dream

This was posted on my Episcopal Voices listserv. Just read: It needs no commentary.

(~) DIVERSITY THE LAW OF LIFE
address by Archbishop Desmond Tutu. March 29, 2005

Most of us have read the first few chapters of Genesis in the Bible.
Isn't there a veritable explosion of creativity.

God, it could be said, went on a real spree, almost one might say, an orgy of creativity - where there was chaos, darkness and disorder, now there was order, cosmos and light and what a kaleidoscope of diversity.

There were trees, there were stars, a sun and moon, rivers and seas,
fish and fowl and birds and trees and animals - and what a splash of
diversity amongst the animals, not just one sort but a whole range of different animals, giraffes, elephants, lions, tigers, monkeys, cattle, sheep, goats, and among the trees, would be oaks, beeches, etc. and we could go on and on, and then there was Adam.

Now, that seemed to change the pattern. He was all by himself and then God saw that it was not good for man to be alone. And then we have that lovely story of how Eve came about.

A solitary human being is a contradiction in terms. We say in Africa a person is a person through other persons. We are made for togetherness, for friendship, for fellowship. We are created to live in a delicate network of interdependence and we are different precisely in order to know our need of one another. I have gifts that you don't and you have gifts that I don't have, and God you could almost hear saying, "Voila."

No one can be totally self-sufficient, the totally self-sufficient
human being is sub-human.

Diversity is the law of life. A tree is not just leaves. It has a trunk and branches, and roots and leaves - none can survive without the others. They are interdependent and perform different functions for the good of the whole. If the leaves were to go on strike and refuse to be involved in photo-synthesis and all that, the tree would suffer and the leaves would discover they were really nothing without the branches and the trunk and the roots. And so also with the human body. We say, "I see", not my eyes see - "I hear", not my ears hear - and I am an organism precisely because of the diversity of my organs performing different functions for the good of the whole body. Without this diversity functioning harmoniously I would be nothing.

Diversity is the Law of Life

Now God created us different, some tall, others short, some black,
others white (?), pink, yellow and red. What a fantastic array of
remarkable difference and diversity, different languages, different
cultures, different ethnicities, different this, different that. God
wanted us to glory in our differences, to affirm our differences, to
celebrate our diversities and to know that we are so obviously
interdependent.

Even now no single nation however prosperous and powerful can really go it alone. We must trade with other nations. We may find we don't have this commodity but they have it in abundance but lack what we have and God says I made you to be interdependent, to want to cooperate, to share, to care, to know that an injury to one will end up being an injury to all.

Unfortunately as seems always to happen, we perverted a good, our
particularity, our peculiarity - some then used it as a reason to
justify hostilities. We have used our differences to mistreat one
another.

And so we had obscenities such as slavery where frequently one race
claimed to be superior to those who could thus be bought and sold like so many cattle when families were callously divided, wives from
husbands, mothers from their children and sold separately. They were
regarded as barely human and their dignity was trodden horrendously
underfoot. Even someone as smart as Aristotle declared that slaves were not persons. For him, and so many others, human personality was not a universal phenomenon possessed by all human beings without distinction.

Racism exalted differences that made some superior and others
inherently inferior and so we had the horror of the Holocaust when Jews were systematically eliminated in Hitler's Nazi final solution for being inferior to the Aryan and used as scapegoats to blame for Germany's parlous economic situation in the 1930s.

This kind of thinking justified the brutal and heartless massacre of
six million Jews and gypsies and homosexual persons. There have been other instances of genocide as of the Armenians, or of those who perished in the killing fields of Kampuchea (Cambodia) and more recently in Rwanda and then the so-called ethnic cleansing in of the former Yugoslavia, people being done in simply because they were different.

I come from South Africa which carried the opprobrium of the world for its vicious apartheid policy which was a blatant system of racist injustice and oppression.

In that land they saw nothing wrong with public signs reading, "Dogs
and natives not allowed" - natives meaning black people. There was no subtlety at all. In many other countries racism existed though perhaps in forms that were not quite so blatant and unashamed. In this country you spoke of separate but equal and everyone knew that it was really a fiction, since no white person would have willingly accepted to exchange places with those who were called Negroes, or more insultingly as Niggers, to enjoy the equal but separate facilities. We know the outrages and the atrocities perpetrated by the Ku Klux Klan, burning churches where little girls perished or the several lynchings - it continues to some extent as when a black man can be dragged to an excruciating death behind a truck. Racism is well and alive in so many parts of God's beautiful earth - we know what the neo-Nazis have been up to in Germany, or the National Front in Britain, and France, led by Le Pen, etc.

And we know that racism is totally un-Christian without remainder. It is unmitigated evil and totally immoral.

Why? Because racism says what invests anyone with worth, with value, is something extrinsic, something biological, skin colour, ethnicity. What does the Bible say quite categorically ? It says our worth is intrinsic. It comes with the package. It is part of being human. It does not depend on who or what we are. It belongs to all without distinction. And it is the wonderful assertion that each one of us is created in the image of God. Fantastic. Each one of us is God's representative, God's viceroy. God's standin. Each one of us is a God-carrier, since we are each a temple of the Holy Spirit.

Each one - everyone, whether we are rich or poor, beautiful or not so beautiful, red, white, yellow, black, young, or old, clever, or not so clever, our worth is intrinsic, our worth is infinite. And to treat one such as if they were less than human is not only evil, which it undoubtedly is; is not only painful as it certainly
turns out to be for its victims.

No it is all these things but more, it is blasphemous for it is really spitting in the face of God and we who are believers have no option - in the face of this evil and blasphemy we cannot be even neutral. We are constrained by our faith to oppose it
strenuously, for we can't say that well, it is respectable. No, that
would be to acquiesce in the crucifixion yet again of our Lord and
Saviour for remember he is the one who said, "When I was hungry you fed me, when I was naked, etc", for he is forever to be found with the outcast, the victim of injustice, of oppression.

When someone is the victim of any form of injustice and oppression, look carefully at that person and you will see the features of Jesus, and would we stand idly by when Jesus is vilified and illtreated yet again?

And how could we even have imagined that skin colour really told us
anything worthwhile about a person - does it tell us that you are
intelligent, humorous, compassionate, can I know these things just by looking at you? Of course not.

In the bad old days of apartheid in South Africa they used to have universities reserved only for whites. The main entrance qualification was not academic but biological. So I would say
suppose we changed that and said that this university was for large
noses only. If you had a small nose then you had to apply to the
Minister of Small Nose Affairs for permission to attend that
university.

Totally absurd - it ought to have been something to dismiss with a loud guffaw, except of course that it was no laughing matter for its
victims.

God does not give up easily. God still believes that one day we will
get to agree with God that diversity is beautiful - that it is wonderful to have a garden made up of roses, but how much more wonderful one that has a whole array of different flowers, roses, daffodils, chrysanthymums, irises, etc - how wonderful when we see the rainbow in the sky and it is a rainbow precisely because it is made up of different colours.

And so are we surprised that God has a dream ?

On the Resurrection Day Jesus spoke to Mary Magdalene and said some strange words to her. He said, "Go tell my brothers", referring to those so-and-so's who had betrayed, denied and abandoned him - he called them brothers and he must have meant it because he went on to say, Athat I am ascending to my Father and to your Father; to my God and to your God." That is mind-blowing.

God dreams that we will come to realise that we are family, the human family, God's family, made up of all sorts and conditions of people.

I sometimes say I am glad I am not God. To think that God has to accept a Judas Iscariot, a Herod, a Hitler and a Bin Laden, a Mussolini and an Idi Amin as all his children. To say we are family is the most radical thing Jesus uttered, a family of glorious diversity where there are no outsiders. All are insiders.

Jesus said, I if I be lifted up will draw all, not some, all to me - black and white, red and yellow, rich and poor, Christian, Jew, Muslim, pagan, atheist, Hindu, all, old and young, male and female, gay, lesbian and so-called straight, all belong in his family. George Bush, Bin Laden, Sharon, Abbas, all belong, all are
loved, all. You know God has no enemies. Certainly my enemies are not God's enemies.

God dreams that we would realise that we are family caring for one
another as family, sharing with one another as family, concerned for
one another as family, appalled that members of our family could wallow in poverty and squalor without clean drinking water, and adequate health care, enough to eat when we have the capacity to feed them.

We have the means to ensure that all God's children, our brothers and sisters do have clean water to drink, enough food to eat and enjoy good education and adequate health care. Peace can come for all when we live as God's family.

And God says, "Please help me to realise my dream, please. . . .
please. . . . please. . . . .please."

The Bishop's take on the House of Bishops response

From the Bishop of Central Florida's column for the April newsletter:

I believe all of us wanted to signal to the rest of the Communion that we are taking the Primates’ requests very seriously, and this highly nuanced response is truly the most we could fashion together.  It is the result of a greater cooperative effort than I have seen in this House since becoming a Bishop!

Did I vote in favor of the Bishops’ statement?  Yes, because even this rather strange and limited response is better than no response at all.

Interestingly, our Presiding Bishop shared with us an email he received from the Archbishop of Canterbury within a few hours of our statement being issued.  The Archbishop thanked us quite profusely for our “generous and costly” response to the Primates.  So perhaps the glass is half-full, rather than half-empty!

I believe that for the moment we are technically in compliance with the Primates’ requests.  And our work this week may have bought us a year and a half (until General Convention).

What will happen during this time?  A delegation of Bishops and theologians who believe that our decisions in the last General Convention were right will be invited to “make their case” at the meeting of the Anglican Consultative Council in June.  There will be much international consultation (as there should have been previously). 

But frankly, I cannot envision any scenario in which a majority of our Anglican partners will change their minds in so brief a time.

The clear expectation of nearly everyone (in my opinion) is that when GC 2006 rolls around, all of these moratoria will be lifted.  General Convention will then have to decide whether to affirm in a clearer way than it has to date the legitimacy of same-sex blessings and the consecration of non-celibate gay and lesbian persons, or to back away and reaffirm the teaching and practice of the rest of the Anglican world.

And then we will have to answer the question of whether we will “walk together” or “walk separately.”  Again, thank you for your prayers.  Please continue to offer them.

The net effect probably is to buy more time. While the Bishop doesn't think the more conservative bishops in the union will change their minds, neither do I think the more liberal bishops in the union will change their mind between now and General Convention 2006.

While the Bishop doesn't think the agreement will stop some bishops from blessing same-sex unions, I don't think it will stop interfering foreign primates from crossing lines, either.

I don't see Presiding Bishop Griswold "making his case" i.e. "making his defense" of the actions of the last General Convention. It's like telling a child, "Explain yourself," implying guilt from the get-go.

Myself, I'm really tired of being told my church has "chosen to walk separately." It hasn't. Others want it to walk separately.

So I guess we're in for general sniping and arguing until the next convention.

It will be interesting to watch, though interesting is not always a good thing.

The Network supporters probably figure they can make more inroads into more dioceses in the meantime. "Liberate" more parishes from the evil liberals. But maybe more people will have their eyes opened about the Network/AAC and the intentions of some of these parties between now and GC 2006.

We can only pray.

The Schiavo fiasco

I have a confession to make: I'm starting to feel sorry for Michael Schiavo.

He's been villified in this sorry, sad, sordid epic, branded as a wife-murderer who wants to collect the insurance money and get on with life with his common-law wife.

But he waited eight years before he started advocating removal of Terri's feeding tube. That's a long time to watch a loved one vegetate. Maybe he found a new life quicker than many would approve, but only God knows his heart.

Terri's parents are sincere, but deluded, I've come to believe, in thinking their daughter reacts to their presence. Her brain has been liquefying these past 15 years. Those couple of seconds worth of video of her blinking at her parents were culled from many, many hours of videotape, none of them recent.

I can't fault them for wanting to hang onto their daughter, though. Losing a child is the hardest pain there is to endure.

I even feel sorry for the doctors, who are damned if they do and damned if they don't. They can't even hasten the end for Terri, to make it quicker for the family, even if she doesn't know what's going on. They would be sued.

If I starved my old, sick dog to death, instead of having him euthanized, I would be arrested for cruelty to animals. Why can't a more humane way to ease the transition from this life to the next be used for human beings? I would certainly want it for myself.

I don't fear death. I don't want a long-drawn out one, so I have a living will and a medical surrogate. Who knows if my wishes will be honored, though.

Anyway, so who are the villains in the Schiavo case?

Those who would use this poor woman as a political football. For example, the Bushes. George W., who has brought about the death of thousands in an illegal and unjust war, talks about a climate of life. Pah. Jeb, our illustrious Florida governor, trying to make some political hay. Trying to stretch their authority into places where they have no business going. Pah.

Jesse Jackson comes down to gain some publicity out it all, snuggling up the Bushes in the process. Pah.

Our local TV news channels, with anchors in place over in Pinellas Park, to give us the blow-by-blow sound bites. Hanging on like a bunch of ghouls. Pah.

All the nut cases who want to kill Michael Schiavo, using the same logic as "right-to-lifers" use to kill doctors (don't they see a basic contradiction here?), descending upon Pinellas Park, too. Trying to sneak into her hospital room. The carnival atmosphere must appeal to them. Pah.

A thought

There's only one way to solve the mess in the Anglican Union: repentance and resignation.

I hereby call on Bob Duncan, Diane Knippers, David Anderson, Peter Akinola and all those who have abandoned the Gospel message, to repent of their ways and truly turn from their path and return to the loving arms of Christ.

To confirm their sincerity in this, they should also resign from their posts. Organizations like the AAC and the Network should disband immediately and turn their assets over to the Episcopal Church as a measure of their true repentance.

Harken, ye sinners, and turn from the path of hate, discord and discrimination.

Purple journalism

My copy of the diocesan newsletter came in the mail today. The headline is: "Near the breaking point: The Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion."

The front page is filled with that headline, the first part of the bishop's letter (see my last entry) and a photo with the caption "Primates consider future of the Anglican Communion at their meeting in Northern Ireland."

Further inside is an "Analysis" by an AAC supporter-priest talking about how the the Episcopal Church has "chosen to walk apart from the rest of the Communion," and how "one primate" viewed Bishop Griswold's statement that God was working in new ways, or in a "leading of the Holy Spirit" was a "blasphemy against the Holy Spirit," prompting charges of "heresy" against the Episcopal Church.

Gee, wonder which primate that was? Must be that mysterious, anonymous one who's been quoted before.

Our analyst raises the overriding concern of the Global South about "whether scripture was trustworthy and true." And, "If it is true, then the normalization of homosexuality violated both the word and the spirit of scripture -- as well as the universal teaching of the Church." Or, as I interpret this statement, "My way or the highway."

Finally, at the back of the newsletter, "A word from the Presiding Bishop" was finally printed.

I think I'm going to "walk alone" on off to bed. May the Good Lord bless us and keep us all.

Heretically yours,
UnSaintly Pat

Is the split here?

There's been a lot of talk about an Anglican communion split, with the news that Anglican leaders are asking U.S. and Canadian churches to withdraw from the Anglican Consultative Council until 2008 because of their stance on homosexuality.

Well, I'm dummy enough to not even know what that council is. Luckily, my Episcopal Voices listserv posted some information.

According to a BBC Q&A program on "Anglican Church Split":

It is a body of bishops, priests and lay people from national Anglican churches who meet and consult in between the once-a-decade Lambeth Conferences.

It is one of the Anglican communion's four "instruments of unity", as
they are called, the institutions which link the autonomous Anglican
churches into a federation.

The others are the Archbishop of Canterbury (the leader of the mother
church), the regular meetings of primates (the senior bishops who head
the communion's 38 provinces), and the Lambeth conference, the meeting
every ten years of all Anglican bishops.

The ACC has no legislative powers, but provides a way for the
different churches to act together.

And, why have US and Canadian Anglicans been asked to withdraw from it?
Answer: The conservatives wanted the North Americans to admit their error over homosexuality.

Does that mean if we don't admit our "error," promise not to do it anymore and remove Bishop Robinson from his post, we will be kicked out of the communion?

I've been reading the comments on Father Jake's blog with interest. Many think this is the first step to real schism and a "trial separation" in preparation for a divorce. Most aren't too sad about it.

My concern is living in a Network diocese. Will the Network try to pull us under a foreign province, as some of its leaders have been itching to do? Our bishop is being noncommital about the whole situation until he confers with the rest of the good old boys Monday. So, we'll have to wait and see.

As far as the Anglican Communion, I'm starting to feel like Rhett Butler: "Frankly, I don't give a damn." Let the ones who want Bob Duncan in charge of the Episcopal Church under someone like Archbishop Peter Akinola get a taste of what it's like, and a lot of them will want out, pronto.

I just don't want my parish being dragged into some awful African or Asian or whatever homophobic, sexist and Calvinistic province, or becoming an AMiA church. I don't want my parish split apart, as many parishes will be, with such a move.

The people engineering this crap obviously don't care about the people. They care about the "purity" of their doctrine and their political ambitions.

What do they think Christ values most? What does he demand of his shepherds?

Meeting Spong

The retired Episcopal Bishop, John "Jack" Shelby Spong gave a talk on sexuality at one of our local universities. He addressed attitudes of homosexuality, sexism and ageism, and our attitudes toward sex itself.

Instead of demanding either marriage or celibacy for
young adults (who come to puberty younger than they used to, but delay marriage to complete educations), homosexuals, or aged widows and
widowers, for whom marriage can cause financial hardships (loss of Social Security benefits or family squabbles over inheritances), the emphasis should be on maintaining a
loving, dedicated, monogamous relationship, Spong
said.

Whether one is homosexual or heterosexual, promiscuity
diminishes one's self and others, he said, adding,
"Sex is a precious gift that should only be shared in
a deep, committed relationship."

The church should be there to "walk beside you,
someone to talk with as you make decisions," he said.

Spong believes all people in such committed
relationships should be able to come to the church to
have their unions blessed, whether or not they seek a
wedding license.

He sees time as healing many things, and for
homosexuality to be debated in the church today means
homophobia is having its last gasp. Maybe this is true, although homophobia certainly still has a stronghold in this part of the world.

The church will move forward, Spong believes. "When
the church moves, some adjust, some drop out," he
said. It is not a painless process.

"I'm not interested in being part of a racist,
patriarchical-sexist, or homophobic church," Spong
said.

My reaction: Amen! and Amen!

I covered the lecture for the newspaper, which gave me the opportunity to interview him earlier that day.

Spong is pretty much vilified by all the local clergy for his views. I asked him about his theological beliefs.

I reported on it as follows:

Conservative elements within the Episcopal Church and
other denominations accuse retired Episcopal Bishop
John Shelby Spong of failing to adhere to basic
Christian tenets. In an interview before his Jan. 31
lecture at Stetson University, Spong answered
questions about his beliefs.

To charges he doesn't believe the Nicene Creed, the
basic statement of faith in the Episcopal Church and
other churches, Spong replied that the creed was
adopted late in the fourth century after Christ. He
chooses to look at the Bible itself and its Judaic
background for answers, not to something written
hundreds of years later, he said.

"How was Jesus understood in the Jewish world?" he
wants to know.

Spong said he doesn't accept the virgin birth, the
physical resurrection of Christ, or the atonement. But
when asked if he believes in the divinity of Jesus
Christ, Spong said, "Yes."

He explained that in the Gospel of Mark, divinity
descended upon Jesus at the time he was baptized, with
no mention of a virgin birth; also, the epistles of
Paul talk about a "declaration" of divinity, not a
virgin birth.

Accounts of virgin birth in the Gospels of Matthew and
Luke were written much later, in the ninth decade
after Christ, Spong said. He added, the Gospel of John
doesn't address how the mix of human and divine came
together in the physical form of Jesus, but talks
about the Word being with God "In the beginning."

Stories of miraculous births abounded in cultures of
the time, always with human mothers who were
considered simply receptacles, and divine fathers. The
knowledge we have, that the mother contributes 50
percent of the child's genes, makes the idea of virgin
birth unlikely, according to Spong. Modern
understanding of physics makes the idea of physical
resurrection unlikely in Spong's estimation, as well.

As for the atonement, which is the belief that Christ
died for our sins, Spong said he can't fathom a loving
God demanding this kind of sacrifice to pay for his
children's sins.

"It's the woodshed theory of atonement," Spong said,
the act of a cruel and punishing God, not the loving
God Spong finds in the Scriptures.

He quoted John 10:10: "I came that they may have life,
and have it abundantly."

"In this Jesus, I met the Holy God," Spong said, and
Jesus is "the life in whom and through whom we meet
this loving God."

Spong refused to be pinned down on a definition or
description of God. He said, "God is a whole lot
bigger than any of us imagine."

While I found Spong engaging, I guess I fall more toward the traditional in theology -- I don't see the need to make God mundane, as many modern theologians do. God is a supernatural being who controls physics, space, time, and the natural, and can make changes in all, just as a composer can conduct his or her own music and throw in riffs and variations to suit the composer's desires.

So, I see the logic of Spong's arguments about the virgin birth and the resurrection and so forth just don't feel compelled by them.

Spong was most gracious in talking with me, which I appreciate. My ex-rector sent an e-mail to the publisher attacking me for "bias," and being overly favorable toward Spong. And for not calling him and asking his opinion on Spong, though he didn't even attend the lecture. A little hubris showing?

Oh, well, just goes to show -- you can't please 'em all.

See what you think

I found the article the archdeacon was having a hissy about at the convention (see the Feb. 5 post) at the North American Association for the Diaconate. Scroll down the page to the Diakeno newsletter and open this year's Advent issue. The article is on page 5 - "Acceptance Speech for the First Faith in Action Award."

See what you think.

In the meantime, liberal, John Kerry, Al Franken, liberal, liberal, sort of moderate, liberal liberal liberal. Ted Kennedy. Democratic National Committee. John Kerry, Kerry, Kerry.

I'm trying to get the focus of the Adsense ads changed. They've been linking to ultra (I won't say the "C" word) sites, based on my use of the "C" word in my posts.

I need to make a few cents -- click on the ads once in a while. I'm supposed to get compensated according to the number of clicks.

Thanks!

More news from the convention

Among the trends I've noticed in this diocese the past couple of years is bridge-building to the African churches. It's a response to the ordination of Bishop Gene Robinson's ratification and installation; the leadership has been seeking ties with those who agree with them on the hot-button issue of homosexuality.

The African churches are right in (lock)step with the "orthodox and traditional" segment of the Episcopal Church on this: they display a virulent, hate-filled homophobia. They also agree with the ultraconservatives in throwing out Hooker's three-legged stool, and have a very narrow field of vision when they look at Scripture.

I'll give credit and say yes, there are probably some altruistic motives on both sides of this bosom-buddiness that's been so in evidence A.R. (after Robinson), but I'm cynical enough to think politics is the big reason: forming an alliance within the Anglican Union to throw out the revisionists and get everybody back to the "right" thinking of a couple of hundred years ago. Letting the homosexuals know they're not welcome, putting women back in their places, etc.

I posted my concerns about this alliance a year ago, in February 2004:

"The Gene Robinson issue is only a small part of the picture as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to be taken or dragged out of the Episcopal Church into some other "province," or to have authority over it given to foreign primates who have a lot of cultural differences, including polygamy, slavery, child labor exploitation and stoning. I don't think the AAC bishops involved in this realize how dangerous giving away this power is. They think they'll really be controlling things behind the scenes and have the mantle handed to them after they've purged and purified the church.

"Nor do I want to go to some Calivinistic, repressive church where you can have only one interpretation of scripture (theirs, fundamentalist) or you're not a Christian.

Some of the AAC bishops, including the one in this diocese,
have been engaged in talks with these foreign, ultraconservative
bishops: July 15, 2003, Bishop Howe, among other AAC-affiliated bishops, signed a letter to "Concerned Primates" to address "the crisis of Faith and Order that is increasingly unfolding among us:"

In the face of these looming departures from evangelical truth and catholic order, and in line with our commitment to oppose all such innovations in every Godly way, we do hereby affirm the moral and spiritual authority of you, the "Concerned Primates" of the Anglican Communion, and do join in commitment with you to address the situation under your leadership. We desire to act in concert with you, and are ready to take counsel from you. We pledge solidarity with you in sharing common faith and practice within an Anglicanism that is submitted to her sovereign Lord, true to his holy Word, and at one with the catholic Church. We stand ready, in concert with you, to commit to common responses to the deteriorating situation within the Episcopal Church and
elsewhere..

I went on to say, "I don't respect bishops who are so willing to hand their flocks over to others. I don't want to be subjected to these primates' "moral and spiritual authority," thank you very much. They need to work on setting their own houses in order...These men seem to have a brew of fundamentalist theology, anger and suspicion toward anything different -- like ordained women or Gene Robinson -- lust for power and contempt for their flocks, from whom they want to conceal so many of their actions, with closed, secret meetings, secret memos and stealthy plans [i.e., the Plano Convention and the Chapman Memo].

I wrote, "Father Dearest [the rector in my old parish] accused me of trying to "discredit" the Network. I don't think I have to -- they do it themselves as soon as the light is shined on their activities."

So, these are the reasons I look with scepticism on the African alliance. I'll have no truck with the hate-filled theology of Peter Akinola or the ultra-right priests who put themselves under a Rwandan or Ugandan or whatever foreign province.

We were treated to a big dose of African music and African-style worship during the convention -- which I enjoyed greatly. Also of Hispanic music (yes, we're universalists, and Hispanics agree with our ultraconservatives on sexuality, too).

All very enjoyable. I could feel the Holy Spirit moving during the church service, and it occurred to me that the Spirit will take this, even when brought forth with a lot of wrong reasons, and use it for good. Maybe we Anglo-Episcopalians can absorb some of this joy in worship while showing that God's love extends to all. I hope so.

I am praying that regarding mergers with African provinces, the Bishop, having taken a look, is backing away from the precipice.

Go here if you want to read his address to the convention.

The homophobia still rages, though. The deacons were all called to share a lunch together. I found out the topic of conversation was publication for deacons containing a magazine article the archdeacon objected to. The article was by a gay postulant for the priesthood in Atlanta. He talked about the terrible days of the 1980s with the AIDS epidemic, losing so many of his friends, and coming through it.

I got just a quick look at the article (I wish I could get a copy of it. I don't recall the author's name). He took some jabs at both the church and the gay community for their response to AIDS. Yet, I could see this man's faith coming through, a faith that sustained him through all the horrible stuff, and through losing so many of his friends.

The archdeacon apparently took severe umbrage at this "gay" story by a gay priest. She apparently wants all the deacons in the diocese on her side of the argument, for she complained to the magazine editor, accusing him of pushing a gay agenda. He responded to her letter, saying he doesn't take any sides, but publishes articles from various points of view.

So the homophobia continues. And I question motives for a lot of things I see around here.

Jesus called for all who are burdened to come to him. He didn't exclude anyone.

Holy Spirit, work all this to your good, I pray.