A pastoral letter to The Episcopal Church

Pentecost continues!

Pentecost is most fundamentally a continuing gift of the Spirit, rather than a limitation or quenching of that Spirit.

The recent statement by the Archbishop of Canterbury about the struggles within the Anglican Communion seems to equate Pentecost with a single understanding of gospel realities. Those who received the gift of the Spirit on that day all heard good news. The crowd reported, "in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power" (Acts 2:11).

The Spirit does seem to be saying to many within The Episcopal Church that gay and lesbian persons are God's good creation, that an aspect of good creation is the possibility of lifelong, faithful partnership, and that such persons may indeed be good and healthy exemplars of gifted leadership within the Church, as baptized leaders and ordained ones. The Spirit also seems to be saying the same thing in other parts of the Anglican Communion, and among some of our Christian partners, including Lutheran churches in North America and Europe, the Old Catholic churches of Europe, and a number of others.

That growing awareness does not deny the reality that many Anglicans and not a few Episcopalians still fervently hold traditional views about human sexuality. This Episcopal Church is a broad and inclusive enough tent to hold that variety. The willingness to live in tension is a hallmark of Anglicanism, beginning from its roots in Celtic Christianity pushing up against Roman Christianity in the centuries of the first millennium. That diversity in community was solidified in the Elizabethan Settlement, which really marks the beginning of Anglican Christianity as a distinct movement. Above all, it recognizes that the Spirit may be speaking to all of us, in ways that do not at present seem to cohere or agree. It also recognizes what Jesus says about the Spirit to his followers, "I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come" (John 16:12-13).

The Episcopal Church has spent nearly 50 years listening to and for the Spirit in these matters. While it is clear that not all within this Church have heard the same message, the current developments do represent a widening understanding. Our canons reflected this shift as long ago as 1985, when sexual orientation was first protected from discrimination in access to the ordination process. At the request of other bodies in the Anglican Communion, this Church held an effective moratorium on the election and consecration of a partnered gay or lesbian priest as bishop from 2003 to 2010. When a diocese elected such a person in late 2009, the ensuing consent process indicated that a majority of the laity, clergy, and bishops responsible for validating that election agreed that there was no substantive bar to the consecration.

The Episcopal Church recognizes that these decisions are problematic to a number of other Anglicans. We have not made these decisions lightly. We recognize that the Spirit has not been widely heard in the same way in other parts of the Communion. In all humility, we recognize that we may be wrong, yet we have proceeded in the belief that the Spirit permeates our decisions.

We also recognize that the attempts to impose a singular understanding in such matters represent the same kind of cultural excesses practiced by many of our colonial forebears in their missionizing activity. Native Hawaiians were forced to abandon their traditional dress in favor of missionaries' standards of modesty. Native Americans were forced to abandon many of their cultural practices, even though they were fully congruent with orthodox Christianity, because the missionaries did not understand or consider those practices exemplary of the Spirit. The uniformity imposed at the Synod of Whitby did similar violence to a developing, contextual Christianity in the British Isles. In their search for uniformity, our forebears in the faith have repeatedly done much spiritual violence in the name of Christianity.

We do not seek to impose our understanding on others. We do earnestly hope for continued dialogue with those who disagree, for we believe that the Spirit is always calling us to greater understanding.

We live in great concern that colonial attitudes continue, particularly in attempts to impose a single understanding across widely varying contexts and cultures. We note that the cultural contexts in which The Episcopal Church's decisions have generated the greatest objection and reaction are also often the same contexts where women are barred from full ordained leadership, including the Church of England.

As Episcopalians, we note the troubling push toward centralized authority exemplified in many of the statements of the recent Pentecost letter. Anglicanism as a body began in the repudiation of the control of the Bishop of Rome within an otherwise sovereign nation. Similar concerns over self-determination in the face of colonial control led the Church of Scotland to consecrate Samuel Seabury for The Episcopal Church in the nascent United States – and so began the Anglican Communion.

We have been repeatedly assured that the Anglican Covenant is not an instrument of control, yet we note that the fourth section seems to be just that to Anglicans in many parts of the Communion. So much so, that there are voices calling for stronger sanctions in that fourth section, as well as voices repudiating it as un-Anglican in nature. Unitary control does not characterize Anglicanism; rather, diversity in fellowship and communion does.

We are distressed at the apparent imposition of sanctions on some parts of the Communion. We note that these seem to be limited to those which "have formally, through their Synod or House of Bishops, adopted policies that breach any of the moratoria requested by the Instruments of Communion." We are further distressed that such sanctions do not, apparently, apply to those parts of the Communion that continue to hold one view in public and exhibit other behaviors in private. Why is there no sanction on those who continue with a double standard? In our context bowing to anxiety by ignoring that sort of double-mindedness is usually termed a "failure of nerve." Through many decades of wrestling with our own discomfort about recognizing the full humanity of persons who seem to differ from us, we continue to work at open and transparent communication as well as congruence between word and behavior. We openly admit our failure to achieve perfection!

The baptismal covenant prayed in this Church for more than 30 years calls us to respect the dignity of all other persons and charges us with ongoing labor toward a holy society of justice and peace. That fundamental understanding of Christian vocation underlies our hearing of the Spirit in this context and around these issues of human sexuality. That same understanding of Christian vocation encourages us to hold our convictions with sufficient humility that we can affirm the image of God in the person who disagrees with us. We believe that the Body of Christ is only found when such diversity is welcomed with abundant and radical hospitality.

As a Church of many nations, languages, and peoples, we will continue to seek every opportunity to increase our partnership in God's mission for a healed creation and holy community. We look forward to the ongoing growth in partnership possible in the Listening Process, Continuing Indaba, Bible in the Life of the Church, Theological Education in the Anglican Communion, and the myriad of less formal and more local partnerships across the Communion – efforts in mission and ministry that inform and transform individuals and communities toward the vision of the Gospel – a healed world, loving God and neighbor, in the love and friendship shown us in God Incarnate.

May God's peace dwell in your hearts,

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop and Primate
The Episcopal Church

       I have never been a fan of Clemson University.  I have always had a suspicion of colleges who use orange as their colors.  Yet there is a tradition at Clemson and other schools I do admire.  For decades, whenever the home team begins to enter the stadium, each player touches ‘the rock’.  It reminds them they are part of a tradition larger than themselves.  They are part of a family and a story, members of which have been and will continue to be for many years.

   Holy water wall fonts remind us that we enter the Church, the Body of Christ, through our baptism.  They remind us of the family, the tradition, the story into which we were brought through baptism. Francis, Catherine of Siena, Martin Luther King, Dorothy Day, Queen Elizabeth, Richard Hooker and Jesus have all passed through these waters.  For millennia the community of faith has gathered at fonts to recall who they are, recall from where they have come and to welcome new members.

   All Souls has recently installed two wall fonts, one just inside the first doors leading into the front of the church and the other next to the door which leads from the banner room (the old acolyte sacristy) into the church.

   It is customary to dip one’s finger into the wall font of holy water and to make the sign of the cross on one’s forehead.  Each time we do this we recall our baptismal covenant.  In this way we remind ourselves who we are, from where we have come and with whom we sojourn.

Peace,

"We must make certain this will never happen again."  I would attribute the quote, but I have heard it from so many officials after the Gulf oil spill I can not give just one name.  To drill or not to drill?  What constitutes a mature energy posture?  Oil, coal, nuclear, renewable, a combination of the above? I recently heard the term 'petro-tyrants' referring to countries run by tyrants who have great oil reserves and to whom we will increase in dependence in the coming years.  As well, Kazakhstan and Angola are becoming oil powers whose offshore environmental regulations do not exist; Nigeria is said to leak about an Exxon Valdez worth of oil each year. Has anyone ever created anything free from accidents? 

 This is not the issue for anyone wishing simple answers. Even if we threw all our energies into renewables today, the curve of oil consumption would be minimally affected in the near future. Yet I do think there is one factor I have heard the least about in all these equations.  It is our own lifestyles personally and communally.  I am not foolish enough to think this will solve the energy issue in our lifetime; and how much pain are we willing to feel?

"Do you want to be made well?" It seems an odd question of Jesus to the man who can not walk.  It cuts to the chase.  Do we want to be made well?  Is he willing to take responsibility for his healing or simply wait on others to provide it?

I don't have a quick answer to energy questions.  I do know that as long as we expect others, BP, other nations, the 'other (fill in the blank for yourself) political party', to do something, there will be more spills and more persons saying, "We must make certain this will never happen again."

Pondering the relationship of Easter and energy,

Todd Donatelli

Each year there is a program relevant to the host city.  This year's program will include presentations on Religion in the Public Square and Religion in the Media.  We will hear from and interact with politicians, analysts, theologians and have a final plenary session with Judy Woodruff, Senior Correspondent of the PBS News Hour.

In addition there is much time to interact with Deans and spouses both for fellowship and for conversations about ministry in each others contexts.  These conversations are as fruitful as the formal presentations.

What I have particularly appreciated about these gatherings is the lack of 'pecking order'; there is no more deference paid to the Dean of St. John the Divine than there is the Dean of Omaha.  Collegiality is strong, rich and energizing.

I also find this to be a group hopeful about the church.  It would be easy in the current economic and church climate to experience anxious attitudes.  Instead I find these persons energized by the challenge of our times and energized by what Cathedrals can be in this time and place.

While in Washington we will also see Ginny Wilder our seminarian at Virginia Theological Seminary.  Reports from Ginny and her professors tell me she is having a time rich in both substance and challenge. It will be good to see her.

Keep the Deans and all Cathedrals in your prayers.  We are in a unique position as a place of feeding, proclamation and hopefulness for our communities.  As we have often said, in a world seeking substance amid vast social change, our tradition, a tradition whose history embodies substance with adaptabilty, conviction amid mystery, is truly a tradition for all ages.

Blessed Easter Season,

Todd Donatelli

We have received many rich comments both about specific aspects and the overall experience of Holy Week.  It is fascinating to see in what ways, which specific elements of the week speak to us and how the journey of the week feeds the whole experience.  Palm Sunday's procession and reading of the Passion, the early days of the week including renewal of ordination vows, foot washing and stripping on Maundy Thursday, the darkness and strange solace of noon day Friday, the stations, meditations on the Passion Friday night, the Easter Vigil and Sunday morning all offer ancient elements speaking to our present experience; elements which reveal, which change and transform our present lives.

We are now in the 50 days of resurrection contemplation, The Great 50 Days of Easter.  As Thomas Murphy asked in his sermon yesterday, "What aspect of our lives was resurrected this past Sunday?"  What does resurrection mean?  What does it look like?  Where are we finding it?  These are the questions for this 50 days.

From your comments to us about Holy Week I find myself confident that the answers we discover will not be some fantasy, but an audacious hope founded in truth.

Blessed Easter Season,

Todd Donatelli

"Why do you seek the living among the dead?"

Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord."

John 19:38-42
19:38 After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body.

19:39 Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds.

19:40 They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews.

19:41 Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid.

19:42 And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

"O God, Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the crucified body of your Son was laid in the tomb and rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him."

I think it's the most striking liturgical act of the year.  It may be one of the most honest moments of the liturgical year.  The stripping of the altar on Maundy Thursday.  Bare: open to view; exposed.  Seen without any enhancement, any adornment; revealed.

I recently heard writer Mary Karr speaking on NPR's Studio 360 with Alec Baldwin.  She was speaking of why she had faith, why she attended church.  "I was not looking for a church.  It wasn't the splendor or beauty of the church.  It was the little Irish priest, he was incapable of saying anything untrue." 

Maundy Thursday is incapable of saying anything untrue.  To find life will require a stripping down, a revealing of what is true.  In the dim light of this service, we, with Jesus, see life exposed, revealed, unmasked.  We must choose whether we will be present to its rawness, its complete honesty.

Tonight we will watch Jesus refuse to meet violence with violence.  Tonight Jesus' life will not be taken, he will lay it down and offer it up to the darkness.

On this night we gather to wash feet, to share the meal and to see light and life stripped away.

Todd Donatelli

It was the question we were to discuss at our tables during the Seder dinner last night at Congregation Beth Ha Tephila.  "What does freedom mean for you at this time of your life?"  It was a rich discussion.

Howard Thurman writes of "A Strange Freedom."  "At the very center personal freedom is a discipline of the of the mind and the emotions."  Freedom is an internal reality.  It is freedom from external pressings and pressures.  It is freedom from external expectations and self-definitions. As well, it is not freedom if it is lived in isolation for isolation is simply one more form of bondage.

Strange freedom; Martin Luther King, Jr. had it on the night of April 3, 1968.  Speaking to those gathered in Memphis, arriving late due to a bomb threat on his flight from Atlanta, he spoke with an internal calm amid the regular threats and attempts on his life.  Listen to his speech that evening.  The first 4/5ths of it follow a classic form of outlined speech; paragraphs of thought building to logical conclusion.  Then, toward the end, he interrupts a sentence: "And they were telling me, (pause) now it doesn't matter now. It really doesn't matter what happens now."

Dr. King has no death wish, quite the contrary.  He has found something beyond that.  He has found a strange freedom.  "I just want to do God's will," he states.  "I may not get there with you; but we as a people will get to the promised land."

This is no passive surrendering man, but one who has walked past fear into a strange freedom.  Listen to the tone in his voice.  It is the voice of Jesus in today's gospel (John 13:21-32). Jesus is not some beaten down, retiring person.  He simply wishes to do what he is being called to do.  Like King he also would love to live a long life; yet he will choose what is the faithful, life seeking path.  He will not retreat into isolation, but will grow in compassion for all, even those who seek to stop him.

As the days of this week grow more dark, may we, with those who have gone before us, keep seeking the faithful, life giving path.  May we find ourselves walking past fear into a strange freedom.

Blessed Holy Week,

Todd Donatelli

     Becky and I are having clock problems.  Not problems of our clocks keeping time, but the fact there is still daylight at 8 pm.  The light is telling us one thing, but our bodies are fighting the change.

     In today's gospel Jesus speaks of the conflict of light and dark.  He wonders out loud about seeking to avoid the troubling hour, yet realizes his life is for facing the dark.  By association, our lives too are for facing darkness.

     In today's news we hear of a group plotting to kill police officers and then setting off bombs at their memorial services in order to multiply the damage. There are reports of more persons losing their homes due to economic realities.   In his song "Nebraska" Bruce Springsteen is speaking through the voice of one who has committed multiple murders: "They wanted to know why I did it.  Well, sir, I guess there's just a meanness in this life."

     At the Renewal of Ordination Vows service today, the Bishop thanked all of the lay persons present.  "We need you," he said, "and you need us."  We do need each other if we are not to run from this hour.

     As we continue toward Jerusalem, may we not adjust to the darkness, but find and bring light to this hour.  "While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of the light."

Blessed Holy Week,

Todd Donatelli

In the Rob Reiner film, "This is Spinal Tap" a satirical documentary about a fictitious hard rock band, the guitarist is bragging to the interviewer about their amplifiers.  "While their volume knobs go up to ten, ours go to eleven giving us just a bit more juice when you really want it." The interviewer challenges him stating their amplifiers are not really louder, but simply have eleven printed where others have ten.  "Why don't you just have ten like everyone else?" asks the interviewer.  The guitarist pauses for a time, looks dumbfounded, his face suggesting he realizes his foolishness.  He finally replies, "Ours go to eleven."

In the gospel for today (John 12:1-11) we hear those who are working to kill Jesus are now working to kill Lazarus as well, "...since it was on account of him (Lazarus) many were deserting and were believing in Jesus."  The insidiousness of murdering to solve a dilemma has now grown to incorporate a second planned murder.  Lazarus is an inconvenient truth.

How many times have I chosen to ignore, pretend about, and deny things that do not cooperate with what I wish to believe.  How many times have I denied truths about myself and others in order to avoid the work of change. Inconvenient truths indeed.

I am in a small, ecumenical study group one of whose members is from what would be labeled a conservative, evangelical Southern Baptist congregation.  I found myself deeply moved recently when he was talking about an incredibly mature course of action the congregation had chosen.  I replied, tongue in cheek, "Please stop telling me this.  You are messing with my prejudices."

As we continue our pilgrimage to Jerusalem this week we will likely confront truths inconvenient to our lives; truths about ourselves and others, perhaps even truths about God.  These truths will need to travel to Jerusalem. They will need to be offered up, allowed to die. In freeing ourselves from their illusion, we are freeing ourselves from death.

Blessed Holy Week,

Todd Donatelli

"It only apparently dies. If it were not to die, it would remain a solitary grain. The harvest comes because of the grain that dies. We know that every effort to improve society, above all when society is so full of injustice and sin, is an effort that God blesses; that God wants; that God demands of us. I am bound by divine command to give my life for those whom I love, and that is all Salvadoreans, even those who are going to kill me." Oscar Romero in a homily shortly before his death.

Yesterday was the thirtieth anniversary of the assassination of the Archbishop.  Oscar Romero was not a radical by nature.  He had been a 'company man' for the Catholic Church by all accounts.  That changed the day his fellow priest, Rutilio Grande, was assassinated by his government.  Rutilio had been working with and bringing notice to inhumane treatment of farm workers in El Salvador.  Father Grande had also been calling for action regarding government harrassment of clergy working with the poor.  When Grande was assassinated with two others, Romero presided at the mass for the three and afterward listened for hours as the local people told stories of their suffering.  It changed his life.

Romero began speaking out against the government's actions and on March 24, 1980, while presiding at the Eucharist he was gunned down.

Holy Week is about Oscar Romero.  It is about Rutilio Grande.  It is about our world today.  It is not an isolated story about a mythic Jesus.  It is about the reality of darkness in our world and how easy it is for all of us, myself included, to participate in it.  It is not about God needing blood spilled for us, it is about our indifference to blood spilled everyday in our world.  It is about how easy it is to be indifferent to suffering, about how easy it is to be concerned with myself at the expense of others.

I was with a group of clergy recently talking about what we believed hope was.  Thoughts went many places.  I do believe that hope is found by walking through the stories of those who suffer in our world.  Hope is found when we are connected to all persons.  True hope is understood by those willing to walk through darkness.

May this Holy Week lead us to the hope and freedom found by those willing to be grains of wheat.

Blessed Holy Week,

Todd Donatelli

Using Sheldrake's theories, one writer suggests we not think of our lives as an individual block attached to the block of the generation before us, but think of our individual lives more like collapsing telescopes with one generation overlapping another. The past is not something we simply know about, it is present and active in us.  Our DNA not only passes on eye color, it passes on the collective memory, the collective story, of those through whom we are birthed.

It is not unlike what we believe takes place when we recall the story of salvation history in the Easter Vigil, when we participate in the Eucharist and other liturgical recollections of the Scriptures: we are not simply hearing these texts, we are somehow effectively participating in the story of those texts with the persons from the texts.  We are passing with Israel through Red Sea as we recount their story.  We are effectively being broken and dispersed in the action of the Eucharist.

Dain Perry is a descendant of the DeWolf family of Rhode Island, believed to be one of America's largest slave trading families.  Constance Perry is a descendant of slaves brought through Charleston who resided in North Carolina.  Their journey encompasses our American journey with slavery and race. 

Dain and other members of his family traced their family's history of slave trading following a geographical course from Rhode Island to Africa and Cuba. It was a story not officially passed on by the family, yet one that emerged in the collective conscious of later generations.

Constance was raised in Boston and until recent years did not wish to connect with the story of her ancestors in North Carolina thinking it had memories and realities she did not wish to engage.  She is also reconnecting to stories that have been passed on more deeply than she knew.

Please join us as we welcome Dain as our guest preacher at 9:00 and 11:15 this Sunday, and as we welcome Constance and Dain to our Adult Forum at 10:10.

As we get closer to Holy Week, we are reminded once again that the recalling of story, rather than binding us to that story, can serve as that which frees us to live in this present moment.

Peace,

Todd Donatelli

It is no surprise the Scriptures are mostly stories.  You may be among the few who love walking through the many laws of Leviticus, yet my guess is what is most compelling are the stories: Sarah laughing at the visiting angels, Abraham laying Isaac on the altar, Daniel in the lion's den, Jesus turning water into wine, the women watching at the cross and showing up at the tomb, Paul being blinded on the Damascus road.  Good stories invite us in to them, they create an ongoing narrative into which we find our place.

I have mentioned in sermons the family reunion on my mother's side of the family.  For 50+ years Bensons and their descendents have gathered each summer in Chicago.  Prominent is the wall length family tree and the albums of pictures and notes from each summer's gathering.  You will hear stories of Chess, Irene, Roy, Myrtle, Arthur and all who have been and are members of this family. It is the stories recounted, old and new, that create the sense of who we are as members of this clan.  One quickly realizes there is a narrative flowing through all of us, shaped, colored and enhanced by the individual and collective stories.

Annual meetings offer the same.  We offer stories of the present, stories past, expressed hopes for the future, thanksgiving for all of it and recognition of those whose lives have and are shaping the narrative that is this Cathedral family.  It is a time when we hear who we are and into what we are living.

An additional element of recent years is recognition of persons who have offered themselves in various ways over a period of time.  Without letting out some of the surprise, I will say it is a rich recognition with a new twist this year.

I find myself again and again appreciative of the ongoing narrative of All Souls, of the stories which have been lived and have molded who we are and will be.  Come join us this Saturday at 6 pm as we recount once again the story which has been and is being created in our midst.

Peace,

Todd Donatelli