Have you received your invitation to the Lambeth Conference in 2008? No? Well, neither have I, for which I give God thanks. It is bound to be an exciting time. By then we will have a better idea of the future of the Anglican Communion. There is already considerably noise in the press about which bishops received invitations and which did not. The Right Reverend Gene Robinson did not receive an invitation. But of equal interest is that Martin Minns, who was consecrated a bishop by Archbishop Akinola of Nigeria, for CANA, the Nigerian Anglican Church’s offshoot in the US, was also snubbed. There are sound canonical reasons for excluding bishops like Minns; such reasons don’t exist in the case of Bishop Robinson. There the question is homosexuality. But the Archbishop of Canterbury has also stated that homosexuality will be on the agenda of Lambeth. I find it odd that the one openly gay bishop in the Anglican Communion has not been invited to participate in those discussions.

It is clear that the Archbishop of Canterbury wants to keep people at the table, talking to one another, but that is quite difficult when one group refuses to sit down and talk with others. Bishop Henderson has expressed much the same sentiment. The last Lambeth Conference of Bishops committed itself and the Anglican Communion to a Listening Process that would try to understand and learn about the experiences of Gay and Lesbian Christians. That process was commended and encouraged by the Windsor Report and by later Primates’ Meetings. The Listening Process was intended to take place on a Provincial and Diocesan level. I do not know whether our diocese has made any such attempt, but it seems to me that conversations beyond simple acknowledgment of the presence of Gays and Lesbians in our Church are important.

The Bishop’s pastoral letter which Father Timothy read in service on May 13 was fully in keeping with the Bishop’s actions and statements since General Convention 2003. I appreciated his candor and the thoughtful, deeply-felt words in which he expressed himself. His commitment to both the Anglican Communion and to the Episcopal Church is remarkable, and the honesty and integrity with which he speaks and acts is commendable. I might disagree with some of the things he said in the letter, but I thank God that he is our bishop, leading our diocese.

I will take issue publicly with one thing he wrote, that the clergy, to a person, are anxious. I am not anxious. I have faith in God that in the end God’s will will be done and the Episcopal Church will be a community faithful and committed to God’s work in the world. Of that I have no doubt. There may be significant change, but I am certain that God will continue to be present in those changes, whatever they may be.

While Fr. Timothy read the letter, and while we worshiped at St. James, I was mindful of events taking place only a couple of miles away, at St. Francis. St. Francis is experiencing enormous changes; they will be commemorating their final (English language) service in June. But last Sunday, there were over 350 people present for the Spanish language service. The Bishop received into the Episcopal Church or confirmed around twenty adults. In addition, more than twenty children made their first communions. That is remarkable growth in a very short period of time. God is doing great things in our Church. Change can bring anxiety with it but, as we say in congregational development, change is going to happen, the question is, what kind of change, and how will we manage or approach it?

I’m always hopeful that TV programs will get at least some of the story right. I watched PBS’s “Secrets of the Dead” tonight, which told a story of the English Bible from the 14th century to the present. There was a great deal of oversimplification and some occasional howlers. I grant that it is exceedingly difficult to tell a complex story in an hour of television, but one would hope that the overarching narrative would be accurate. The film mentioned the importance of a Greek edition and new Latin translation of the New Testament that was published in 1516, but neglected to mention the name of the man responsible for that work, which became the foundation of every translation of the Bible into vernacular languages in the sixteenth century, and also the foundation of modern textual criticism. He was Erasmus of Rotterdam. The other grave error was the implication in the film that the English translations of the Bible in the 1530s empowered the laity to reject the Catholic Church and press for reform. In fact, the opposite was true. The English Reformation, we now know, was largely a product of a fairly small number of reformers and supporters, who for a time provided Henry VIII with cover to promote his own interests (the divorce from Catherine of Aragon, consolidation of power, and economic gain). Reform was largely unpopular and indeed there was violent resistance in the 1530s. England became a “Protestant” nation only midway through Elizabeth’s reign, say the 1580s.

The documentary also whitewashed Thomas Cranmer’s story. It made him with Henry, largely responsible for the Reformation in England (that’s an overstatement). As Archbishop of Canterbury he played an important role. His most important legacy is the Book of Common Prayer. But he ended his life in ignominy. After Mary came to the throne in 1553 and reversed religious policy, he was arrested and forced to recant. He clearly wrote and signed the papers of his recantation, but partially redeemed himself the next day, when he publicly renounced his recantation. The recantation was a public relations coup for the Catholics, and it was only through the Protestant propaganda machine (John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs) that Cranmer came to be seen as a martyr for Protestantism. I won’t say anything about him serving as an example of waffling for later Archbishops of Canterbury.

This evening, a small group of us gathered for a service of Contemplative Vespers, organized by Dr. Karen Eshelman. There was a small choir of people who had prepared the chants as the evening shadows lengthened we sang the ancient hymn Phos Hilaron, O Gracious Light. The simple service, with voices chanting unaccompanied by any instruments except the occasional bell was a lovely opportunity to recollect oneself at the end of an exhausting day. The ancient chants allow one to hear the psalms in new ways. It was a service that combined the meditative feel of Lent with something else, a celebration of the Annunciation. March 25 (exactly nine months before December 25) is the date on which the church celebrates the coming of the Angel Gabriel to Mary to tell her that she will give birth to Jesus. In the midst of the penitential season of Lent, and as we begin to look forward to Holy Week, we took time this evening to remember the first sign of Jesus’ coming into the world.

What a joyous luxury it was for me to worship in that way this evening; in a small group, with a simple, profound service, with silence, broken by the sound of bells and unaccompanied voices. Being responsible for the liturgy means that most of the time as I celebrate, or even when I am only assisting, my focus is on the logistics of the service–what comes next, what to do if something goes wrong, and the like.

If you would like to experience something somewhat similar to what took place this evening, you should think about attending the Tenebrae service on Wednesday evening of Holy Week. The chants will be similar, but the service will be quite dramatic as the candles are extinguished in the course of the evening and we will leave the church in darkness.