From The Arizona Episcopalian May 2000
The House of Bishops met in California in early April for its annual spring retreat. We met at Lake Arrowhead at the UCLA conference center high in the mountains above San Bernardino. The weather was cool (cold by Arizona desert standards) and the agenda was full.
There was the usual series of meetings in large groups and small groups. I am actually thinking of starting a twelve-step program for those who would like to shed themselves of the small group addiction that has so many organizations in its clutches, but that may be the subject of another column. Suffice it to say that most of my real learning in life has not come as a result of a small group discussion session managed by a facilitator, a table leader, a moderator, or a host as the current jargon has it.
The most valuable parts of most meetings of some duration are usually found in the moments of informal conversation at meals or during breaks from the large or small group experiences. Sometimes the most valuable part of a meeting is something you read which has nothing to do with the meeting. This would be the recreational reading you take along for those moments when you cannot get to sleep because you have slept through part of a meeting earlier in the afternoon and you are just too rested at bedtime. This has never happened to me, of course, but I did observe some others fighting to stay awake during a particularly long report about some topic or other due to come up at the General Convention next summer.
We worked our way through the usual topics with the usual outcomes for the most part. An outside presenter from Harvard generated some spice with his work on the topic of leadership, and we talked about two American priests who were consecrated bishops by a bishop of Rwanda, the Archbishop of Singapore, and a couple of retired bishops from the United States.
Yes, the saga continues. Due to an alleged loss of standards in the Episcopal Church we now have a couple of bishops residing in South Carolina and Pennsylvania with a canonical residence in Rwanda and Singapore respectively who are seeking to serve the folks who don't like things the way they are or the way they are supposed to be or is it the way they were and aren't anymore?
I read these things and I hear all of the conversations in preparation for General Convention and I think it is just not that hard.
I was in a semi-large group (not a small group and not the actual large group) charged with discussing matters related to human sexuality in preparation for the meeting in Denver this summer, and basically all of the opinions you might expect were aired. ("Aired" is word we use in the group world.) I listened carefully and I spoke carefully, but for the most part I observed that we continue to look for a complex solution to what may not be as complex a problem as we think.
The solution (which will probably never reach the light of day) occurred to me while reading my novel on my last night at Lake Arrowhead. The novel, Pattern Crimes, was written by William Bayer, who is an author I enjoy reading when I am in the suspense thriller mode or mood.
Bayer was telling a story set in Jerusalem involving much intrigue, conflict, murder, adultery, homosexuality, theft, lying, prejudice, spies, the military, various religions, and some interesting foods. He was obviously not writing specifically to the Episcopal Church or its bishops, but I just could not get to sleep so I finished his book.
I am quoting without his permission so I hope Mr. Bayer will forgive me, or if he hears of it he will bless me with forgiveness. He blessed me with the story.
"Later, outside on narrow Hevrat Shas, David found himself surrounded by youngsters. They were pouring out of the yeshivas, young men and boys garbed in black, and they pressed against him as they passed. But strangely he found he was not annoyed. For the first time in memory he did not recoil, nor wish to break loose from contact with these people, nor did he see, as he looked into their faces, suspicion or contempt, for feel, on his part, any of his usual distaste.
"A man his age, a rabbi, with milky skin and heavy spectacles and a thick black beard, nodded as he approached. David nodded back. Their eyes met, they smiled, and then David felt something pass between them, some fine, rare form of acknowledgement.
"He thought about it as he walked away, asked himself what it was. Recognition, he decided, recognition that although each had chosen a different path, an opposite way to live, still they were connected. And that although this meeting of their eyes would be broken off in a moment, still they were both men and Jews and thus tolerance and even love were possible."
Think of it. It is just not that hard. It is not that costly. It does not involve you in a small group. It does not compromise you at all. It is so simple a concept that it can stretch all the way from Singapore to Rwanda to Arizona to Denver.
Recognition that we are still connected and that tolerance and even love are possible no matter what else is going on.
This is what I learned in my smallest group, just William Bayer and me.
May God bless us all as we see life through the story. The story is the answer and we are right in the middle of it.
We Are One!
+Robert Reed Shahan
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