Journey to Maria's Ordination

Friend and fellow blogger Maria Evans was to be ordained to the transitional diaconate last night, December 16, at Christ Church Cathedral in St. Louis. This post will mostly be about my experience of the crazy two days. Sorry for the self-absorption. 

I was honored to be asked to serve as crucifer for the festival service in which Maria and two others would be ordained.  The Cathedral’s verger, Shug Goodlow, and I had agreed to meet at 3:30, before the general rehearsal at 4:30, before the ordination service at 6:00 p.m.  If you know me, you know that serving as crucifer is a deep joy to me.  Further, I had walked with Maria through this journey for several years, so I was doubly thrilled to serve in this ordination.

To be sure I got to the Cathedral in plenty of time to meet Shug at 3:30, I left home at 12:30 Friday (yesterday), giving me 3 hours to arrive. That shouldn’t be a problem, for it’s generally a 2-hour drive from home to the Cathedral.  I was in great shape, I thought. Just before I left, a freezing drizzle began to fall.  I had been checking weather sites for two days.  All had said there was at most a 20% chance of precipitation, and all had said the temperature would be above freezing.  But they were all wrong.  When I got to my car, it was covered in a thin sheet of ice.  When I made my first turn, the car slid a bit on the ice.  Uh-oh, I thought; better take it easy.

I got onto highway 54 in town.  You who know the area will know it’s the highway that goes north for 30 miles, where it links up with Interstate 70 at Kingdom City. The speed limit is 70.  But everyone was driving 30 mph, and for good reason.  It should have taken me ½ hour to get to I-70.  Instead, it took an hour. In that 30 miles, I saw 7 vehicles spun out in the median and ditches.  I realized I was already cutting it close for making my 3:30 appointment for crucifer practice.  St. Louis is 2 hours from home, and 1½ hours from the Kingdom City interchange.

I took the exit ramp onto I-70 and was confronted with a horrible sight: a traffic snarl with vehicles moving at a crawl.  I figured it was a temporary delay. I was grateful that a semi truck let me into the right lane between him and another truck ahead of me.  We crawled along for ¼ mile.  Then we all stopped.  For a little while, I figured.  I was wrong.  At 1:50, I put the car in park and took my foot off the brake.  I had the heat all directed to the windshield to keep the ice from forming.  About 2:15, with the car warm, I turned off the ignition to save gas until we started moving.  Long story short: We all sat right there for 2½ hours.  During that time, I operated the windshield wipers often enough to keep the ice from forming, but only turned on the engine when I got too darn cold and needed the heater. Some people got out of their cars and "skated" on their shoes on the iced road.  A couple of women got out with a blanket, went off to the right, and guys held up blankets around them.  I think I know what they were doing.  After all, there was no restroom for miles around. 

At about 2:00, I alerted the Head Verger at the Cathedral about my situation and status, letting her know I wouldn’t make 3:30 practice and had no idea when I would make it to the Cathedral.  Then I texted Maria, letting her know of my situation.  She replied that she was stuck in the same traffic snarl, probably about a mile behind me.  She was with Carrol Davenport, the vicar at Trinity/Kirksville. We texted a lot, always hoping we would begin to move soon. While waiting, I listened to NPR for a while, then took out a book and began reading.  I never imagined I’d be parked there from 1:50 to after 4:00. 

When traffic began moving about 4:10, I was still about 90 miles from the Cathedral.  Way too late for rehearsal.  And the people back at the Cathedral were talking with Maria about what to do about the ordination of the three transitional deacons.  Everyone recognized that the hazardous road conditions wouldn’t get us there in time for the 6:30 service.  The Bishop and people at the Cathedral had agreed they were willing to postpone the ordination service start for an hour, to 7:30.  We all kept calling and texting with updates.

The fact that the traffic had begun to move wasn’t an “all clear” situation.  The first time we started moving, we made it about ½ a mile crawling along, then it was a parking lot again.  Eventually, we began crawling along at 5 to 10 mph.  An hour and a half later, we had moved 17 miles.  It was nearly 6:00 p.m.  My buttocks were aching.  I was hungry, not having eaten since breakfast.  And I seriously needed to pee. Then I came to a MODOT roadside sign, alerting us there was a traffic stoppage ahead, with a 20 to 30 minute wait.   I texted Maria that I was taking the next exit, at mile 175, where there is a gas station and a McDonalds. 

When I walked into the McDonalds, I was shocked.  It was like the U.S. version of a refugee transit station.  The place was full. There was nowhere to sit.  People were eating standing up.  Everyone was talking about the journey and ordeals they had endured in their travel. I wasn’t the only one who had taken the exit from snarled traffic to find food and bladder relief.

As I moved toward the rest room, a hand grasped my shoulder.  I turned to find it was the Rev. Christina Cobb, a priest of our diocese, a friend of Maria who had been in Lui (South Sudan) with her, one of Maria’s presenters. She had driven south from Mexico, Missouri, to rendezvous with Maria and Carrol and drive into St. Louis – a plan that had been hatched before any of us knew what the weather would throw at us. Chris was on the phone with Maria, and had learned the new plan at the Cathedral.  It was clear to all that we could not possibly make it there by 7:30.  The Bishop had made the decision to go ahead with the 6:30 start time for the two other ordinands and to ordain Maria the next morning at 10:00.  We all agreed this was a good decision.

Chris was still going to rendezvous with Maria and Carroll, and they were going to slog into St. Louis and get a hotel room for the night.  I decided to drive back home and make the drive this morning, when the weather was supposed to be clear.  I just couldn’t stand the thought of driving on to St. Louis with no toothbrush, no change of clothes. And I had observed that the westbound traffic (back toward home) seemed to be moving well.  I figured I would get more sleep by driving home and driving back to St. Louis on Saturday.   

Indeed.  I got home by 7:30.  Slow traffic but not a crawl.  Maria and the others didn’t get to St. Louis ‘til well after 10:00.

At home, I made contact again with the Cathedral’s verger and learned that no acolytes would be used in Maria’s ordination – not even a crucifer.  Needless to say, I was disappointed.  But still determined to be present with Maria for her ordination.

So this morning, I awoke to the alarm at 5:30 a.m.  I turned on my tablet computer to the St. Louis NPR station.  Partly because they have better programming early on a Saturday, but also in hopes of hearing their weather.  Here at home, it was 34 degrees and no precipitation.  All looked well.  I made coffee, fed the cats, did the morning chores. Then the St. Louis station weather at around 6:30 offere
d a dire report, saying that freezing rain was supposed to start about 10 a.m., exactly when Maria’s ordination was to begin. They also reported that the state Dept. of Transportation was telling everyone to stay off the roads between here and St. Louis.

I texted a friend in St. Louis, asking what he was hearing, but I guess he wasn’t up yet.  I proceeded to shower and dress for Maria’s ordination.  I got in the car and headed out. 

About the time I got to Kingdom City again, my friend replied to my text: “Don’t come. I doubt you’ll be able to get home in the weather that’s coming.”  I pulled off the road at Kingdom City, got a cup of coffee, and sat and thought.  It was a horrible time.  I deeply wanted to be at Maria’s ordination.  But I didn’t want to end up in a ditch.  After much thought, I turned around and headed home as a freezing drizzle resumed. 

Maria Evans after ordination. A happy Bishop Wayne Smith at right background. 

Thanks be to God, Maria was ordained.  St. Louis friends were there, as well as those from Kirksville who had spent the night in St. Louis.  I am grieving that I wasn’t there. But Maria reminds me that the ordination that matters – her ordination to the priesthood – will be in June.  Surely I will not be thwarted then by freezing weather and hellish travel conditions.

I’ll post more photos of Maria’s ordination on Facebook from a friend who was in St. Louis for the weekend. 

Unrest in Ferguson: What Are We To Do?

One week ago Saturday, 18 year old Michael Brown was killed by a policeman in Ferguson (in St. Louis County).  I've been watching the news, which was first local in St. Louis and has now become national.  Even PBS and NPR (my go to news organizations) are covering it.  Yet another young, unarmed black man has been killed in our streets.  I grieve his death.  With his family, I also grieve the violence and looting that some people have perpetrated in that St. Louis suburb.

I was grateful to see so many clergy, especially Episcopalians whom I know, march in the streets Thursday in a peaceful protest.  Our bishop, Wayne Smith, was there.  The dean of our Cathedral, Mike Kinman, was there.  I also spotted my friend, the Rev. Marc Smith, there.

With the kind of national attention this is receiving, I assume all black people in Jefferson City are also aware of what's happening in Ferguson. I want to share a bit personal reflection. 

I run errands on Saturdays.  I generally don't pay much attention to anyone I encounter, unless I happen to know them personally. I am focused on my tasks. 

As I ran my errands around town today, a weird thing happened.  Of course, I encountered black people on High Street when I went to lunch downtown and in the stores where I shopped.  I found myself making a point to nod and smile at the black people today.  While I was waiting at a stoplight near home, a group of 8 or so black children [some on bicycles and some on foot] started crossing the street in front of me "against the light" just before the light turned green.  I smiled and gave them a wave, rather than being peeved and asserting my right to proceed the moment "my" light turned green.  

Because of what's happening in Ferguson, I felt a special need to acknowledge them all as persons.  And I probably wanted my nods and smiles today to convey "I'm not one of Those People."  Maybe these were empty gestures of White Guilt.  I don't know.  But I feel that people who enjoy White Privilege [and there's no doubt it exists, and I benefit from it] must do something to express our common humanity with black folks, many of whom surely must be wondering afresh who is "friend" or "foe." 

I know that's not enough.  But I'm too far from St. Louis to march with the peaceful people in Ferguson.  What can a person here do to express solidarity with the people of Ferguson? More particularly, what can someone like me do to express outrage that unarmed black people are gunned down in our streets?  

Why Should We Send Alternates to General Convention?

According to the Canons of the Episcopal Church, each diocese elects 4 clergy Deputies and 4 lay Deputies to serve at General Convention [GC], and up to four Alternate Deputies in each order.  In most dioceses, the diocese pays for the eight clergy and lay Deputies to attend GC.  Most (but not all) dioceses also pay for the 1^st Alternate Deputy in each order to attend Convention. 

Attendance at General Convention is very expensive.  It typically lasts about 10 days or so.  There are significant transportation costs.  Hotels typically charge over $100 per night.  And meal/per-diem costs rack up over the days of GC -- $61 per day in Salt Lake City/2015 according to the current GSA rates.  That means each Alternate Deputy will “cost” the diocese about $160 per day to attend GC, plus transportation. 

I have heard one dominant reason for sending the 1^st Alternate Deputy in each order: That they might step in to take the place of a Deputy who cannot serve in one session, or in case a Deputy becomes ill or injured.  …  And, yes, most Deputations also step aside so that their Alternates can have some time on the floor of GC. …  Mostly, the arguments I’ve heard for sending Alternates to GC is so they can step in if need be.

But funds are tight, and some dioceses are questioning the need to spend that much money to send their 1st lay and clergy Alternate Deputies to General Convention.

At least one Bishop has phrased it this way: “When I sit in the House of Bishops, there is no one to stand in as my substitute.  If I cannot spend a moment or an hour or a day, there is no one to stand in for me. Why should we pay to bring to Alternate Deputies to spend some 10 days at GC just in case they are needed?”  I can understand that reasoning, in this time of tight budgets.  That bishop was arguing from a National League baseball perspective:  S/he has no “designated hitter” to run to the HoB floor in his/her place.   

Since I began closely following GC in 2003, my only rationale for sending/supporting our clergy and lay Alternates had been my understanding of something like that “designated hitter ruler.”  I thought we needed a substitute, in case one of the Deputies was indisposed for an hour or a day or more.

Today, I realized there’s another reason – which probably doesn’t occur to many bishops.  It’s leadership development ... or call it "continuity planning." 

When a bishop is elected, s/he has all sorts of training and mentoring.  By the time a new Bishop gets to General Convention, s/he probably has established a network of colleagues.  But it is not so with GC Deputies.  The only way to learn how to serve as a Deputy is to serve as a Deputy.  Bringing eight Deputies, plus two Alternates, gives us two more people who can observe the workings of GC and participate in the governance of our church.  It’s training.  It’s leadership development.  It’s continuity planning. It is not merely having a “designated hitter” in the dugout in case someone wants a little break.  Bishops get years and years to serve in the House of Bishops.  But in the House of Deputies, we have to develop our own leadership.  And bringing Alternate Deputies, I come to see, is one of the significant ways we can do that. 

That’s my insight du jour.  Bishops get careful mentoring and many GCs in which to develop their skills, relationships, and understanding.  Bringing Alternate Deputies to GC is a way to help develop skills, leadership, and relationships among the rest of the clergy and laity.  It’s a way to empower the rest of us to see the bigger picture. 

Next time I hear of a Bishop arguing against bringing the 1^st Alternates to General Convention, I’m going to push back for new reasons.  And I’m going to push back hard. 

Shall We Discuss the Possibility of Discussing the Use of the Rite for Same-Sex Blessings?

[Postscript on May 30:  Dear readers: Since posting this initial piece four days ago, I have progressed very far in my thinking, with your help and with some good conversations in other venues. I came to realize that the announcement actually caused fear for me, though I articulated anger in this initial post. I now believe our rector and vestry has taken the correct step. Please read the full post here along with all the comments from me and other readers to see the evolution of my thinking. I had been tempted simply to delete this post, but I've decided not to; it may be helpful to see how I have moved from anger to fear to acceptance and hope on this "hot" issue of same-sex blessings.  I now wish I had not lashed out in such anger on Sunday.  But it is what it is.] 

Welcome to Orwell’s version of Episcopal Church polity in my little parish.

In case you haven’t been following along with the Episcopal Church move toward authorizing the blessing of same-sex unions, or in case you don’t know about my own parish and diocesan situation, I’m going to bore you for a while with background information.  Eventually, I’ll get to the point about the news I learned in my parish today.

My parish is a very diverse one out in mid-Missouri.  We’re not urban, and we’re not rural.  Our county is heavily Republican, but the parish is not.  As the only Episcopal parish in a 30-mile radius, we have learned to be tolerant of all perspectives. We do a great deal of worthwhile mission and ministry.  But – it seems to me – the great diversity of polico-theological views within the parish keeps us from having the Difficult Conversations that some others in the Episcopal Church have had.  We are very polite.  It seems to me that we have a “Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell” ethos within the parish.  We unite around the things that unite us, and I think that is a good thing.  On the other hand, I’m not so sure it’s such a good thing that we seem to dodge the tough “political” and “social” issues that have garnered headlines in the nation and the Episcopal Church over the past decade.   

One of those is the blessing of same-sex unions.  The General Convention authorized a liturgy of same-sex blessings [SSBs] in 2012.  The rite itself is available here.  The General Convention left it up to each Bishop as to whether s/he would allow SSBs in his/her diocese.  In December 2012, the Right Reverend George Wayne Smith, Bishop of Missouri, authorized the SSB rite for use in the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri.  His letter, and the guidelines he established, are available here. 

In the interest of full disclosure, let me say I was part of the task force that worked with our bishop to develop those guidelines.  They weren’t entirely what I may have wanted, but I believed then and now that they were fair and judicious.

The guidelines require first that the clergy must support the move before “beginning a process of discernment in the congregation” and must notify the bishop that the congregation is entering the process of discernment about whether to perform SSB liturgies in the congregation.

Second, the guidelines require that the parish “will undertake a season of prayer and study, including as many parishioners as possible in this process, and taking into account especially whatever theological and social diversity there may be. That is, this process should be thoroughly inclusive.”

Our diocesan guidelines go on to outline what study/discernment resources might be helpful and the requirements for a vote by the vestry. 

You can read the rest of the requirements on our diocesan website.

I believe that is all well and good. 

OK.  That’s all background for you who have been following the developments in TEC and/or the Diocese of Missouri.  Now I get to the point.

After all the other routine notices/announcements today, our priest went to the lectern.  She gave a brief version of what I’ve said above.  I thought something BIG must be coming.  What she then announced is that a subcommittee of our vestry has been created and will hold “listening sessions” to determine whether our parish will begin the process of discernment to consider whether to allow same-sex blessings in our parish. 

Listen to that again: Our vestry is going to hold listening sessions not about whether we will hold SSBs in our parish, but about whether we will even discuss that prospect.

It would be too dramatic to say I was devastated.  But I certainly was disappointed. 

The diocesan guidelines envisioned that the clergy and vestry would choose to allow the conversation (or not), then it would move forward (or not).  Nowhere did the diocesan guidelines suggest a parish should hold a plebiscite about whether even to begin the conversation. The guidelines envisioned that the clergy and vestry would decide whether to begin the conversation. 

But my parish is going to have “listening sessions” to decide whether or not we should even begin the conversation.

Am I angry?  Yes, I am. 

Back in the early 1960s, our parish was in the process of calling a new rector.  Our parish was integrated, but all the black people were forced to sit in the back of the nave.  The priest whom they wanted to hire said he would come only on condition that that de facto segregation would end immediately.  The vestry agreed, the priest came here as rector, the parish was truly integrated, and that priest became one of the driving forces in integrating the downtown businesses. What a brave priest he was!  And how brave the vestry was!  

But what did I hear today?  My parish leadership is going to launch a conversation about whether we will even allow that conversation to take place.  We’re going to talk about whether we shall even talk about allowing same-sex blessings.  That seems a bit Orwellian to me. 

Let’s roll back the clock about 50 years.  Let’s say the vestry appointed a “listening committee” to decide whether to discuss the issue of racism in our parish.  Let’s say we talked about whether to discuss the injustice of telling African-Americans they had to sit in the back of the nave.  Would that not have been a profound injustice and a total failure of nerve on the part of our clergy and vestry?  I think it would have.  Fortunately, back then, there was a priest who said “THIS SHALL NOT STAND!”  He made it clear he would not come here while such injustice prevailed.

Our diocesan guidelines do not let a priest and vestry to take such a unilateral action today on the issue of same-sex blessings, and I understand that.  The guidelines require that the clergy support entering into conversation and that the vestry lead the conversation within the parish.

Instead, our parish is taking an even more backward, tentative step: They are going to ask the whether the conversation is even allowed to happen. Our bishop has not asked parishes to take that weenie step.  The guidelines assume that clergy and vestries would decide whether to launch the conversation.

Despite my anger and disappointment, I take this solace: Our parish under our current rector has a very good track record of having very productive and open “listening sessions.”  We took a very long time to talk about reconfiguring our worship space, and it came out very well, with all voices being heard.  The rector and vestry were highly attentive to all the voices from the parish.

If our vestry had followed the diocesan guidelines … If they had decided whether or not to begin the conversation about SSBs … I would be content. But they did not. Instead, they have decided to have a parish “vote” about whether we will even begin the conversation about SSBs.  And that makes me angry.  It won’t surprise me a bit if the parish decides the whole topic is just too divisive and therefore they don’t want to talk about it. After all, we’re a happy parish that ignores its differences.  Why introduce such a difficult topic of conversation? 

So we’re not going to have a conversation about same-sex blessings in my parish.  At least not yet.  Instead, we’re going to decide whether we’re even going to discuss the possibility of talking about SSBs.  No matter how that conversation ends, I am heartsick that our parish leadership has chosen this route.

African-Americans, you want equal treatment?  Let’s talk about whether we should discuss your appeal.  …  Women, you want equal treatment?  Let’s talk about whether we should discuss your appeal.  … Faithful gay men and lesbians, you want your covenants blessed in your Episcopal parish?  Let’s talk about whether we want to have that conversation in our comfy “Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell” parish. 

Even before the first “listening session” has convened, I am profoundly disappointed.  Dear parishioners: Would you want to have listening sessions about whether to consider your status in this parish?

Post-GC Reporting Session, Part 2

Here is Part 2 of the General Convention Reporting Session: http://vimeo.com/48023852. It runs about 45 minutes.

Much of the conversation focused on the "restructuring" of TEC and what it will mean to dioceses and congregations.  Deputies offered frank insights for the Diocese of Missouri.

There was a great deal of discussion also about South Carolina's "walking out" from Convention, and about the Anglican Covenant.