The Archdeacon Returns - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Politicking

The episcopal election was just a couple of weeks away. The Archdeacon was now embracing the fact that he had a good chance of being elected the next bishop.  He had been carrying out the late Bishop’s administrative work for some time now and things were running quite smoothly.  With a greater confidence, he was beginning to imagine himself permanently in the role. He had now set aside any scruples as to whether or not he “wanted it.” In this, he surprised himself. Once he had admitted the fact that he had the ambition and allowed his name to be placed on the ballot, he had come to a certain peace and set aside is previous anxious indecision.  Nonetheless, He took an arm’s length approach the campaigning that was going on in his name.  He had told Maddie that he would simply wait on God and let the Holy Spirit decide his destiny.  As such, in spite of the heavy weight of the diocesan responsibilities resting on his shoulders during the vacancy of the see, he endeavored to keep a low profile. If it were to be, it would be. He knew that no amount of active campaigning on his part would change this, and he would certainly not allow himself to stoop to the level of Rebecca Hope or of certain fringe candidates.  He confidently committed the matter to prayer, knowing inwardly that he was the best candidate, and in truth, he was.  During this time, he received many letters and notes of encouragement from old friends whom he had thought had thrown him over long ago.  It seemed that perhaps his popularity had not waned to the extent he had imagined.  It seemed as if he was still well-loved, at least to a degree, regardless of his former association with Bishop Verity. 

            The electors of the Diocese had a most interesting choice before them.  They could vote for change, radical change, in the person of Rebecca Hope, or they could vote for the Archdeacon.  There were many who wanted just such a change as offered by the iconoclastic Rebecca. They were tired with the way things had been for so long and were discouraged to think of where the church might be headed.  Rebecca Hope did not have to work terribly hard at winning over these electors – although she did work hard at campaigning. Some of the downtrodden and wearied clergy of the diocese, those on the periphery of establishment, who had no voice under Bishop Verity, found her an appealing candidate.  They were not in the majority, mind you, but they were a surprisingly large group.  To many of the laity, she was a breath of fresh air. Although we have seen enough of her to question how fresh that air really was, to the average churchgoer she exuded an energy, excitement, and vision that had been long-absent amongst the diocesan leadership. She had a strong and growing base of support.

            The Archdeacon, on the other hand, was the establishment candidate. He was not an exciting man, but he would steady the ship. He would not let it sink under his watch, and he would be a benevolent captain, caring for his crew and commanding respect.  While he was open to new ideas, he was not innovative, and while he was essentially a traditional sort of priest, he was flexible to a degree.  If the Diocese needed a period of stability and cautious growth, then by general consensus of the elite and the established of the Diocese, he was the one to wear the mitre. Many of the old and powerful of the diocese, who longed for the days of yore when Sunday schools were full, the coffers full, and worship conformed to the ideals of order and decency, were tired of the cutting, downsizing, and restructuring. They wanted an old-fashioned bishop who would act the part. They did not want to see a pendulum swing from Verity to Hope. For these people, Archdeacon Thomas Fulman was their man.  Even those who had been adversely affected by his erstwhile visitation had confidence in him to lead the Church. 

            If the Archdeacon was endeavoring to keep a low profile during this time, Maddie was not.  She was working hard to secure his election. At every possible opportunity she worked at re-establishing his former reputation and shoring up his support. She visited and called on many of his old friends and colleagues, she enumerated to them the dangers of a Rebecca Hope episcopacy, and the soundness of the Archdeacon to all who would listen.  There were many who did listen, and many who shared her fears about Rebecca Hope.  When the options were weighed a good many of the clergy, especially the old guard, would end up falling in behind the Archdeacon, while the lay members seemed to favour his adversary. Maddie’s connections with the lay leadership of the Diocese were not as extensive and so she had trouble making any ground amongst the lay electors.  The challenge was to convince them to support a safe candidate rather than a charismatic one. While confident that the Archdeacon would garner the needed clerical support, she had some fears about her ability to generate enough support for him amongst the laity.

            Maddie had just showed up at his diocesan office to update him on where she though he stood. Young Tony was seated in a chair, across from the Archdeacon drinking a cup of coffee and cradling some papers he had used as a pretense to come upstairs and drop in on his friend.

            “So, here’s the update…” she said abruptly as she came through the door, unconcerned about any conversation she might have been interrupting.

            “I’m not interested,” the Archdeacon responded, putting up his hand. 

            “So, Mr. Perkins ‘fogged’ me and said he wouldn’t commit,” she went on, ignoring what he had said, “but I think he will support you when push comes to shove and he has to mark a name on the ballot.  I can’t believe he could ever bring himself to vote for Rebecca.  As for Canon Swiftman…”

            “Methuselah,” chuckled Tony, referring to the old Canon by the nickname he was known throughout the Diocese, being its oldest and longest-serving priest.

            “He told me to just ‘go away’.”

            “Ha! I’m not surprised,” smiled the Archdeacon. 

            “I should have gone to talk to him,” Tony added, “He and I are ‘old buddies’.” 

            “Really?” Maddie looked at him with surprise.

            “Really. I’ll tell you all about it sometime.  What about the others?”

            “Canons Burton, Surefire, Walton, and Speakeasy are all behind you, boss.”

            “Well, all I have to do is not be Rebecca Hope to have their support, I should imagine…” the Archdeacon noted.

            “And what about the younger clergy,” Tony inquired.

            “Well, Rebecca has some disciples from across the street, but there are those from our side of the street that will support the boss.”  By “across the street” she meant one of the two Anglican seminaries that stood glaring across the road at each other.  On the opposite side was the Low Church evangelical school, which had been set up over a hundred years ago to offer a godly education for young clergymen (and they were all young and men in those days) in opposition to what they believed was the godless institution on the other side, the High Church establishment college.  Needless, to say, the Archdeacon, the late Bishop, Maddie, and even Young Tony were graduates of the latter, while Rebecca Hope had been educated at the former, was a member of their board of governors, and occasionally taught courses on there on “the missional church.”

            I think it is only fair, in the spirit of full disclosure to state that the alma mater of the Archdeacon and his young friends is also my own.  It should not come as a surprise that I should think that they came from the right side of the street, and while I am loathe to cast aspersion on that other institution, I must say that its sectarian character has always been a troubling presence in our Diocese.  If this colours my telling of the events I am relating in this little story, I am unapologetic. Can we ever truly separate ourselves from our natural ecclesiastical prejudices?  I certainly find it difficult.

            “Maddie,” the Archdeacon said, trying to allay her anxiety about the strength of Rebecca Hope’s sectarian support, “All shall be as it shall be.”

            “Not if we can’t get the lay vote on our side in the next two weeks.”

            “I have an idea,” interrupted Tony, “what about that little devotional book the Archdeacon wrote years ago. I still have several boxes of the remaindered copies down in the archives. What if we dropped them off at some of the parishes – gave them away – let the lay people see Tom’s pastoral side?”  Now Young Tony’s instincts were well-meaning, but this was a terrible idea.  The lay people did need to see a side of the Archdeacon other than that of the late Bishop’s “hatchet man”, but one could hardly imagine a less-effective approach.  With only two weeks left, how would they get the books into the peoples’ hands, and who would read a twenty-year old remaindered devotional book in the next two weeks anway and let that sway their vote? The Archdeacon nixed the idea. He said it was gauche, self-serving, and unlikely to work. He was quite right.

            “I know,” Maddie said excitedly, “We could…”

            “The two of you must stop this,” the Archdeacon said firmly, “I will own that I would like to be the Bishop – there, I’ve said it out loud – but only if the Church, and God, call me to the office. I’m not going to force my way through the door.  I trust that the electors, the members of synod, will choose prayerfully, faithfully, and thoughtfully.”

            Young Tony cast his eyes down, while Maddie just stared at her mentor in disbelief.  Finally, she said, “Okay boss. I just wanted to give you an update.  I think there is a lot of support out there, and I want to make sure we drum up every last bit of it, even if you don’t really care.”

            Maddie turned without a further word and left. The Archdeacon sat at his desk with his head in his hands.  Tony continued looking at the floor in silence for a moment longer and then said forthrightly, “You know, Tom, she’s out there busting her ass for you. You could be a bit more appreciative…”

            “I don’t want to be seen as one of those candidates who wants it so badly that I’m out there campaigning.  I know she trying to help.  It’s just that I don’t feel comfortable with all the politicking. It’s unbecoming.”

            “You know this is how it works.”

            “Is it? Is this how we choose a bishop? Do we carry on just like the rest of the world, with backroom deals, handshakes, and subterfuge? Is this what Christ commissioned us for?”

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