The Archdeacon Returns - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Vultures

The Bishop was correct.  It was not long after word about her condition was shared that the vultures started circling.  In a letter to the clergy and people of the diocese she shared the news of her diagnosis but not its seriousness.  She noted that she would be forced to withdraw from some of her duties during her treatments and that the load of that work would be taken up by the Archdeacon, and that going forward, for the time being, he should be the first point of contact with her office.  From this limited disclosure, rumours began to fly, and as the rumours took shape, uncertainty grew.  She did not appear to be sick. Many believed that this was simply a health scare, a bump along her road.  She was an exceptionally strong person, as the whole diocese knew (for better or worse) and a good number of people just assumed that she would have the strength and fortitude to slay the adversary that was currently stalking her. 

Yet, there were others who began to whisper, and whispers that are shared in the shadows have an insidious virility.  Human nature being what it is, every comment from this set began with the phrase, “I don’t wish her ill, but…”  This was followed by all manner of speculation about her illness, some it plausible, some of it incredible, and then, with that brief proviso uttered and that moment of speculation passed, the conversation would inevitably turn to the matter of episcopal succession. 

Reader, we as eavesdroppers have the distinct advantage of knowing that the Bishop’s chances were not good, next to none, in fact.  I won’t repeat the unpleasant expletive she herself uttered in the Archdeacon’s presence, but I think we can be assured in saying that Bishop Verity was not long for this world. Thus, with this unpleasant truth placed openly on the table before us, what is to stand in the way of us speculating on whom might be her successor?  One might answer, “good taste”, and that pious respondent would no doubt be correct, but the world does go on, does it not? Once, I had a very wise bishop tell me that if he were to drop dead today he had no doubt someone would be sitting in his chair before it was cold.  Death humbles us. In death we may very well end up in glory joining that heavenly chorus of angels and archangels, prophets, saints and martyrs, but as soon as we enter into that glory, the folly of our earthly pride and hubris is laid bare. The world can, does, and needs to move on without us.  So, perhaps knowing what we know about the certain fate of Bishop Verity, we should drop the pretense of piety and join with our friends in this little story in their speculation about who might succeed the her as bishop.

As luck would have it, our young archivist friend, Tony, just happened to overhear a conversation whispered in the reading room of the archives not long after news of the Bishop’s condition was relayed.  I shan’t name the two gossipy culprits, but would it surprise you to learn that they were two very respected senior clerics of our diocese? 

Now Young Tony was a circumspect man. He was the keeper of the memory of the Diocese and that included many secrets.  Much of the material over which he had stewardship was open to the public, but the diocese had its little secrets and he had many confidential files under his care. He was good at protecting the church’s statutory privacy from inquiring eyes.  Young Tony, however, was not averse to disseminating what he heard whispered in the reading room.  In his own estimation, what he heard, as he kept his head down and worked away, and what he related later to the Archdeacon over their next lunch, he considered fair game to at least share with his old friend.

The Archdeacon smiled as the young man related the rumour he had overheard.  Of course, the Archdeacon, a man not at all green in the world of church politics, was unsurprised by what he was told.

“It seems,” young Tony began, “that the Rev. Rebecca Hope is already calling together her supporters.”  This was said with all the naughty enthusiasm of a gossip columnist, as if a scandal had just been uncovered.  Behind-the-scenes episcopal election maneuvering is not especially scandalous, though, even if it is a bit gauche, especially when the current incumbent of the office has not yet departed it. The Rev. Rebecca Hope was the energetic rector of St. Anskar’s, a parish in a growing suburb some distance outside the city.  It might be remembered that her church, in spite of the fact that she had gutted the chancel, and banished all semblance of traditional Anglican worship, had been spared from the recent restructuring and downsizing due to its financial soundness, strong Sunday attendance, and a very impressive outreach ministry.  It was arguable as to whether or not it was still a real Anglican church, but it was a success story. The Rev. Rebecca Hope was a charismatic pastor who flouted diocesan rules and dismissed out of hand much of what counted as Anglican identity.

“Do you think she will have a chance?” Young Tony asked.

“I doubt it,” the Archdeacon responded, attempting to assure his friend, and I expect, himself.  But the Archdeacon had had enough to do with her over the years that he knew she was a force to be reckoned with, and she did have a following. Was there was a chance that after years of diocesan austerity, that there might be more than a few members of synod who would be ready to cast their votes in support of her ambitious and unrestrained vision of growth?

...The Archdeacon Returns continues tomorrow...

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