the cassandra pages

Phos hilaron

I had a strange new experience today.

At the cathedral, the daily office - Morning and Evening Prayer - is said at the times when there is no Eucharist. Lay volunteers usually do this. Last night, at the annual fund raising concert for our music program, my friend S. asked me if I could fill in for her at Evening Prayer today, because she had a conflict. I said I could, and at 4:30 this afternoon I bundled up, got on my bike, and rode downtown. There was a lot of traffic, and the huge Christmas wreaths encrusted with little red lights had just been put up at La Baie, on the other side of Union Street from the cathedral. In the courtyard, a newly-erected Christmas tree was also alight, but the church itself seemed dark. I went in the main entrance and found George, acting as assistant verger today, waiting in the back. I explained why I was there, and asked where the service books were kept, thinking I would read the service in the small side chapel where a few people could gather, if indeed anyone showed up. A lot of the time, no one does, or people wander in and out as they do all day long.

"Al has the books all ready for you," George told me, and I followed him down the side aisle into the baptistry, where he unlocked the big red door and motioned to me to follow. We went into the sacristy - the room where the communion vessels and all the other service supplies are kept and prepared - and he showed me a stack of books with markers in them, left by Al, the verger. "There you are," he said.

I looked at the books - all the readings for today were noted and carefully marked, and the leaflet with the cathedral's intercessory prayers for this week was behind them. I had brought the readings myself, not expecting this level of help. "Shall I do the service in the chapel?"I asked.

"Usually she does it here in the choir stalls," George said, opening another big door that led out onto the nave, near the altar. I followed him with the books. "You see, here by the microphone." There was indeed a small microphone on the last stall, already turned on.

"And it starts at 5:15?"

"Yes. I'll ring the bells for you, and you can get settled here. I usually stay in the back by the doors."

"OK," I said. George walked out, and above my head, the cathedral bells began tolling. I sat down, reviewed the readings and the service order, which is a little different from the American liturgy, and waited, feeling quite small and alone under the tall buttresses and in the dark wooden choir stalls, built for bigger people than I am. The whole length of the marble altar, at my left, was already covered with red crepe poppies, for Remembrance Day this coming Sunday. I looked at them, and at the names of dead soldiers carved above the altar. I looked out into the empty church. George sat at the back, and one other man, wearing his coat, was seated two-thirds of the way toward the back.

At 5:15, I stood up, said a few words of welcome, and began reading: "O gracious light..."

The service went quickly. Psalm 74 is long, and the Gospel was the horrible passage about the beheading of John the Baptist, but the second reading was the passage for All Saints' from Ecclesiasticus that I quoted here a few posts ago. It felt good to read it aloud, like the poetry that it is, in the resonance of the cathedral, and as I did, I felt the sudden warmth of connection with all of you. I read the creeds, the intercessory prayers for the diocese, the world, the city and the parish, the Lord's Prayer, and the closing sentences, and was done. I knelt down for a few minutes, and then went out into the sacristy and filled in the service book for November 8, 2007: Evening Prayer. Name of officiant. Number in congregation: 3. George came in, I put on my coat, and he let me out the side door and went around to lock up the building for the night. I went outside into the crisp cold air. People were still going in and out of La Baie, where big color posters advertised animal-print silk camisoles for Christmas, worn by pouting, sultry-eyed girls in the arms of several men.

"Does it make any sense at all anymore?" I wondered as I rode over to University and up to Sherbrooke. We have become such a remnant. On the one hand it is ridiculous, insane. But then: people still come in, sit down, listen, think, light candles. Who was the man who came to the service? Why was he there? It's possible that he wanted to sit and listen to a pleasant voice reading prayers and scripture in complete anonymity. But I'm uncomfortable with the distance and the formality - not the old words, so much, as the removal from eye contact, from sharing a book that we could all read from, the impossibility of lighting a candle together or extinguishing it at the end. Up in the choir stall, I felt very much like the man behind the curtain, and that even if a brave pilgrim dared make her way all the way to the front, as I had invited visitors to do, she might be disappointed in what she found.

Would I do it again? Perhaps - but not this way. I have changed, and my faith has changed, a good deal over the past few years. By crossing this northern border, I've also entered a spiritual life that is entirely different than in the United States, and here is precious little heat left in these embers. It's time for new thinking and new connections, and voices that aren't afraid to come out from the shadows, into that gracious light.

Many Saints

It was great to see a friend of mine featured on the TypePad home page today - her blog, Third House Journal, is a personal blog which has been a steady presence in my online world; she's a fellow New Englander and very good writer and poet, though she doesn't often post her poems. And a very good person, if not yet a saint - though with all the stuff she's been through this year she's well on her way.

Another good friend writes today that she's taken up the challenge of NaBloPoMo and committed to try to post something every day in November. I'm tempted to follow suit, but not sure I can do it with the amount of work coming up, plus my duties at qarrtsiluni, where there's an intriguing new theme starting. When TheCassandraPages were young, I always posted daily, but for the past couple of years that's been pretty close to impossible, except for stretches when I had a series going. Last November was one of those times: I wrote a post every day for a month, exploring my memories of my mother -- speaking of saints -- and the maternal side of my family.

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Tonight I went with my friend B. to the High Mass observance of All Saint's at St. John the Evangelist  across Av. President Kennedy from Place des Arts. Known locally as the Red Roof Church, St. John's is Anglo-Catholic and tonight was filled with what we Anglicans call "smells and bells" - incense, tall candles, Sanctus bells, chants, and a sung mass by Tomas de Vittoria. The prayer books and hymnals are the small ones, bound in red and green, virtually the same as in Anglo-Catholic churches I've attended in England, with the old rites and prayers I remember from my childhood, barely preserved now in the Rite I liturgies in the American BCP. At one point B. leaned over and said, "As you see, the service moves along at a good clip here," he was right. I know most of these prayers "for all sorts and conditions of men" by heart, and although this is not where I feel most at home spiritually or politically, there was something beautiful and comforting in listening to the well-sung chants, watching the slow dance of the three priests moving in unison at the high altar, and repeating Thomas Cranmer's poetic words while gazing up at the five sanctuary candles burning in their elaborate brass chandeliers hung from the ceiling or following the tracery of the wrought iron and wooden rood screen separating the nave (and the people) from the chancel (the altar, the priests, the mystery.)

It was cold, too, and there was an Advent feeling in the air. After coming back from the communion rail, where I studied the very old, intricately-patterned colored tile floor, I decided it reminded me of being back in England at one of the old city churches, like St. George's Bloomsbury, with its grey-haired congregation wrapped in coats throughout the service, and that rather dour inwardness dissolving into a cheerful, plucky atmosphere afterwards, with red-waistcoated or woolen-skirted greeters pressing mince pies and mulled cider into a visitor's hands on Christmas morning. The kinship with St. John's is not only in the British heritage, but the fact of a small congregation saddled with, and rather dwarfed by, a large, dark, drafty building of stone and brick and dark wood.

This evening there was a casserole supper after the service, so I stayed and ate in the bright parish hall, talking to two Greek Orthodox men, my friend, a McGill professor, and the jovial rector, who had taken off his robes and now wore a floor-length, fitted, Jesuit-style black cassock buttoned down the front with many tiny buttons.

Although St. John's doesn't seem quite ready for women priests at the altar, a female Anglican priest did give the sermon, taking us on a thoughtful journey into the catacombs of Rome where many early saints of the church were buried, along with that cloud of unknown Christian witnesses who we remembered, along with our own dead, on All Saint's Day. My friend B. pointed out, over dinner, that there is a fresco in one of those catacombs that shows five women presiding over a table spread with loaves and fishes. Were they, perhaps, female priests, and this was a first-century Eucharist? It could certainly be so, but the Catholic Church, of course, explained the painting away as an agape supper, a ritual house supper that was shared by early Christians but didn't qualify  - in the absence of sanctified male priests - as a Eucharist.

Tonight, the priest on his right listened, raised his eyebrows, smiled, and didn't say anything; B. smiled a bit more broadly, enjoying ruffling the feathers. The question is actually timely: while traditional Catholic and Anglican parishes all the province are emptying, groups of young people are forming their own house churches, sharing bread and fellowship, prayer, meditation, and community. The hunger for meaning and the questions of faith and spirit are still there, but the churches have failed to read the signs, failed to connect, and failed to adjust: I think the warmth may have left the sanctuaries and gone elsewhere, looking for the next generation of anonymous saints.

Probably should have happened back in 1776...

A good op-ed about the likely break-up of the Anglican Communion, ostensibly over the issue of homosexuality, but more accurately about the North Americans' refusal to toe the "duty" line with their former rulers, the British.

I am, personally, incredibly weary of this debate, and it's affecting my feelings about the church a lot. Why do any of us need this? We're called upon to love one another, no matter what our differences. It's really very simple. If the church gets in the way of that, then I want no part of it, and I can't accept a hierarchical structure that puts a greater emphasis on unity than on love.

Anglicans Really Alive

 

Anglicans Really Alive is the name of the new blog and associated website of a group of progressive Montreal Anglicans. Ostensibly, we're concerned about the future of the church in the light of the current international controversy, but most of us are also interested in the future of religion in general. We want to explore how religion and science can not only co-exist in a post-modern world, but how they can inform and enlarge each other. We're interested in new forms, in dialogue between traditions, in personal spirituality and growth, and in outreach and change.

The blog -- directed by the thoughtful, perceptive and often humorous Very Rev. Michael Pitts, Dean of Christ Church Cathedral, Montreal -- exists for ongoing discussion; the website will contain continually-updated resources on a variety of topics: Institutional Politics; Sexuality; Peace and Justice; the Environment; Theology and Scripture; a Book List; and a weekly "In the Media" page.

I've helped design and launch the two sites and will be maintaining the website for the time being; we hope that some of you will visit and leave a comment or two; and if any readers would consider linking to us or mentioning the existence of these resources on your blogs or to organizations you belong to, we'd appreciate it a lot. In particular, those of us thinking about and working for change in the Canadian church want very much to interact with people in other parts of the world -- Anglicans, Episcopalians, and those of other denominations and traditions -- we look forward to hearing from you!

Can We Please Put the Women in Charge?

This week, as the 2007 United Nations Commission on the Status of Women conference ends in New York, the Anglican women delegates responded to the all-but-one-male Anglican archbishops who met in Tanzania and issued a stern ultimatum to the American church and its progressive attitude of gay rights: do it our way, or you will be exiled from our communion. Unlike the men, the women pledged "to remaining always in 'communion' with and for one another" as a model for reconciliation. The report is from the Episcopal  News Service:

In the view of the Anglican women, the Primates' warning is inconsistent with the Christian mission of reconciliation and compassionate ministry, and a decidedly male approach to struggling with difference. All of the Primates are men of power, they note, except for Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori.

"The women of the Communion have, I believe, moved from bewilderment to outrage at the ways in which a small cabal of leaders have continued to insist that the issues exercising them alone over human sexuality are inevitably to preoccupy us as well," said Jenny Te Paa, an Anglican UNCSW delegate and ahorangi, or dean, of Te Rau Kahikatea, the College of St. John the Evangelist in Auckland, New Zealand.

"The arguments are all a male ancient power play for territory and ownership of space, be it physical or theological," agreed Phoebe Griswold, a UNCSW delegate from the United States. "The women's ways forward have to do with working for the welfare of creation and the full flourishing of humankind."

Griswold is the wife of the just-retired presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church, Frank Griswold, and she has traveled all  over the world with her husband on Anglican matters; she was a strong and consistent voice for justice for the Palestinian people during her husband's tenure as presiding bishop.  She helped found Anglican Women's Empowerment (AWE), an international grassroots movement which promotes gender equality and women's voices for humanity and justice. AWE was behind the effort to bring women from all provinces of the worldwide Anglican Communion to the UNCSW.

What the Primates have failed to realize, Te Paa said, is that "the priority focus for Anglican women always has been the pressing issues of life and death, which are daily facing too many of the women and children of God's world. How can we compare the needless horrific suffering of women and girls being brutally raped when collecting firewood or water with the endless hysteria of male leaders wanting to debate whether gay men have full humanity or not?"

It's interesting to read their statements in light of the earlier, Ash Wednesday reflections here about taking on repentance "for the whole community."

...For the Anglican women, the mission to work together to heal God's world takes precedent over their theological differences. In their statement, they pledge to live out reconciliation for the sake of a suffering world.

"This sisterhood of suffering is at the heart of our theology and our commitment to transforming the whole world through peace with justice," the statement says. "Rebuilding and reconciling the world is central to our faith."

How proud I am to be an Anglican woman in their company.

AIDS and Anglicans

How far will the African churches go "on principle" - and what is morally right? Observers continue to discuss the fact that if Africa's Anglican churches split from the North American branches, and refuse to continue to take support from them, it could have a large impact on aid flowing into Africa to combat AIDS. Two stories in The East African cast further light on this. In "Aids orphans in firing line as Church fights over gay priests," Paul Redfern writes about Bishop Mdimi Mhogolo of Central Tanganyika, who has continued to accept support from the New York branch of the US Episcopal Church, unlike the rest of the Tanzanian Anglican church. His view is very much the exception among African church leaders:

“We have no qualms about it in my diocese,” Bishop Mhogolo told Reuters. “(If) a gay person has felt: ‘I want to help an HIV orphan to go to school,’ and you say: ‘No, I'm not going to receive that money,’ you are rejecting the person and you are rejecting an answer for the HIV person.” Around 1,000 Aids orphans are benefiting from the US church’s “Carpenter’s Kids” programme in Tanzania and such a project is typical of the support given to the poorest people in East Africa by generous donors within the United States. “Let the judgment be done by God, not by me,” he said.

There's a related story in the newspaper's sidebar: "Activists angered by Gambian President's AIDS-cure claim." In January, president Yahya Jammeh announced that he had perfected a cure for the virus that works within ten days; people he has purportedly healed have been appearing regularly on state-run television.

The cure’s secret ingredients, according to [government Health Minister] Mbowe, are Jammeh’s “family knowledge of traditional medicine” and “the teachings of the Holy Koran.”

While many citizens believe that the president has divine power to heal, and an increasingly oppressive political climate stifles overt criticism of his claim, even by medical officials, one newspaper editor, Sam Sarr of Foroyaa, has spoken out:

“A lot of people are sceptical, they have doubts, especially in urban areas,” said Sarr. “In a society where a lot of people are fetishists, their lack of knowledge leads them to believe that the president used supernatural powers to find a cure,” he said. An editorial in Foroyaa warned that President Jammeh’s claim could be a threat to the fight against HIV/Aids in Gambia, where the disease prevalence rate is estimated at 2.1 per cent."

A Letter to The Times

A letter I wrote, about the disconnect between the recent meeting of Anglican primates in Africa and what is actually going on in American Episcopal churches, was published in Friday's issue of The New York Times.

I was also very happy and grateful for this review of Going to Heaven by Dave Paisley - who I don't know at all - under the title "Read This Book!" on his blog, Disaster Area. He says some very nice things about the book, including that he found it even-handed in dealing with the opposition while being, obviously, sympathetic to Gene Robinson - and since I tried very hard to be fair, that's a particularly gratifying comment to receive. Dave is also, very generously, offering free copies to the first three people who request them, so if you've been wanting to read the book and perhaps haven't had the money, there is an offer for you.

Ash Wednesday

Yesterday we went to the 6:30 am service at the cathedral. A rosy dawn was just breaking over the lacy Buckminster Fuller dome and the tall spires of the churches near the old port; the city streets were still sleepy and nearly deserted. When we entered the church we heard murmerings; the service was already being said at a purple=draped altar in the side chapel, and we walked quietly down the side aisle and took a place among eight other participants: there were a few people dressed for their downtown office jobs; an elderly man; a couple of familiar parishioners; a homeless man. We said the litany of penitence together; listened to the days readings; greeted each other with the peace; received ashes on our foreheads; shared bread and wine at communion. It was quiet and simple and quite moving.

The Dean, who was celebrating the mass, echoed in his homily the words he'd said a few minutes before, from the Anglican Church of Canada's Book of Alternative Services, that we wore the sign of ashes not simply as a sign of our own penitence, but as a sign of our penitence for the whole community. What does that mean? he asked, and then mused about how we might consider this sense of penitence not only for ourselves but for the various communities we belong to, radiating out to encompass the whole world, during the season of Lent. He spoke of it as a time to consider the impact of our food choices; our use of fossil fuels; our level of consumption in general; our investments. And he challenged us to think about how we might act, not merely by giving up some symbol like coffee or chocolate or alcohol, but by thinking about how we can work within our careers to make the world a better and more sustainable place for all its people, or to consider involvement in politics, or in social justice ministries.

I've always been ambivalent about the imposition of ashes; some of it's because I was raised in a low-church tradition, and ashes seem so over-the-top Roman Catholic. But it's also because I'm uncomfortable with visible signs of one's supposed piety, as well as one's sin: for that reason I like the traditional Ash Wednesday reading that admonishes us not to show the world that we are fasting or giving alms, but to go into our room and shut the door "and pray to our father who is in secret." But the Dean's message resonated with me yesterday, and I did resolve to think not only of myself and my own shortcomings this Lent, but to take on, in whatever way I can, a sense of penitence for the whole community, for this world. Maybe something will come out of it that is new in my life.

On the way home, we watched the city waking. On one streetcorner in the gay village, we saw a  woman, with a vaguely Asian face, waiting for a snowplow to move out of her way so she could cross. She seemed agitated; her face was twisted with worry and she stood on one foot and then the other, as if by moving her own limbs she could get this large metal obstacle to move faster. It was very cold and she wore no hat, no gloves. The plow finally started forward; she darted around the back and disappeared down the street; we drove on.

Hers is only one life among millions in this city, but I can't get her out of my mind.

Not Exactly Hearts and Flowers in Tanzania

Tomorrow, Feb 14th, a meeting of the world's 39 Anglican leaders will convene in Tanzania. Prior to the meeting, African and conservative American leaders said they will refuse to sit down with Episcopal presiding bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori - who will also be the only woman among the 39 leaders (known as "primates"). The meeting is likely to point toward the future direction of the worldwide Anglican communion; final decisions to split or not will most likely be left until next year's Lambeth Conference in England, attended by all the world's Anglican bishops. (It remains to be seen if Bishop Gene Robinson will be invited to Lambeth; Archbishop Rowan Williams has indicated he is inclined to invite everyone - but we'll see.) A careful, comprehensive article by Jane Lampman in today's Christian Science Monitor gives background on tomorrow's meeting:

More broadly, Archbishop Peter Akinola of Nigeria and other church leaders say they have initiated steps to form an alternative ecclesiastical structure in the US. They have served notice that they will not sit down with the new Episcopal leader, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori...

...The Episcopal Church has "moved outside its own theological boundaries," Duncan says. He charges that the church does not trust the authority of scripture, "which is clear about God's purposes in creation of man and woman," and is disregarding "the uniqueness of Jesus Christ ... as the only way to the Father."

Jefferts Schori has been criticized for supporting gay leadership and for statements saying Jesus is unique for Christians, but that God may also act in other ways.

"The theology espoused by the presiding bishop is absolutely consistent with the creeds," says the Rev. Ian Douglas, of Episcopal Divinity School. "People are using scripture in a dangerous way – it is a living document and not something to be used as a proof text or a club."

Another piece, from the Independent (UK), offers a Q&A addressing, among other questions, how much effect Rowan Williams is likely to have on the dispute, and whether a schism would actually be a big deal or not. My personal view is that a split is inevitable but that the churches will try to find a way to continue to work together on issues of mutual interest and concern, just as they have since the western churches began ordaining women and the conservative Africans declared themselves out of communion with us. However, the vicious, self-righteous, very public rhetoric will not be soon forgotten.

I am most concerned about the message this gives to homosexuals everywhere - not just in Christian denominations - and the tremendous psychological and emotional damage it has done and continues to do, even to people who have long since left their religious communities or been forced out. Having seen this so closely, I'm dedicated to trying to redress this damage in my own communities through whatever means I have at my disposal. Those of us still in the church are responsible, I believe, for undoing the damage she has caused throughout her history -- and we shouldn't wait for a schism to give us a sufficient reason to begin.

PROFILES IN COURAGE: This news just came in. Davis Mac-Iyalla, the leader of the Anglican LGBT group "Changing Attitudes" in Nigeria has gone to Tanzania, despite threats on his life, to lobby the Anglican primates against the anti-gay bill which will be debated tomorrow in the Nigerian Parliament. I've written before about the courage of this man and the members of his group, who will be criminalized if the bill, which the Anglican Archbishop of Nigeria, Peter Akinola, supports, is passed. Read the article if you think the actions of American conservatives, aligning themselves with Akinola, don't have any effect on real people. And if you pray or meditate with intention, I hope you will hold Davis Mac-Iyalla and the African LGBT community in your thoughts during the next few days.

A View from the UK

I was very happy to discover that an interesting and sympathetic review of Going to Heaven: The Life and Election of Bishop Gene Robinson appeared in the January 26th issue of Church Times, the leading worldwide Anglican newsweekly (published in London, but independent of the Church of England hierarchy.) Thank you to Leigh Hatts for such a careful reading and thoughtful discussion of my book.