The Bishop - Chapter Fifteen: A Decision is Made
Chapter Fifteen: A Decision is Made
Our dear Bishop had made a decision. Late on Saturday night he had distributed by email a pastoral letter to the clergy and people of the Diocese informing them that he intended to proceed, one month hence, with the authorizing of a rite for same-sex marriage, and to allow all clerics whose conscience permitted to perform such marriages. He did add the proviso that any cleric whose conscience did not permit would not be required to perform those marriages but ought to direct interested couples to clerics who would.
The Bishop had consulted widely on what he would do. He had taken advice from his main counsellors, from Robbie Ready, Suzanne Sharpe, Chancellor Trehewey, and many others. He had received submissions pro and con from many concerned groups and parties. There were pleadings, warnings, and offers of prayers and support. No matter what he decided, there would be unhappy people. The Synod has approved of same-sex marriage by a significant majority and had asked him to authorize a rite and permit its use. Several other dioceses in the national church had already done so. He was not acting on his own or in isolation. The Bishop never doubted that he would authorize such a rite, and he was liberal-minded himself over the whole debate around same-sex marriage. What concerned him was what the decision would do to the unity of the church. But was there really unity to start with, or was it simply a mirage? Would authorizing the rite and allowing same-sex marriage only bring the division more poignantly into the light. Division was division, and his role as chief pastor of the Diocese was to care for all the faithful and try and bring about some measure of reconciliation. He had made his decision long ago - right now it was all a matter of timing. This, for better or worse, he had kept secret. He had no intention of letting Robbie, or Suzanne, or the Chancellor, or anyone else know when he planned to act. This knowledge was shared with God alone, and of course in his quiet, one-sided conversation with the spirit of his late wife, Mary. Though gone now for nearly two years, she was still his most trusted confidante.
Thus it was from the quietness of the empty Synod office that Saturday evening, he pressed "send" and silenced all his notifications until Monday. He had timed the release of the pastoral letter to coincide with a visit he was making to an LGBT+ affirming parish in the downtown of the City that Sunday, so when he arrived he was feted and met with much celebration. It was a joyous service and he was delighted to see the expressions of gratitude and relief on the faces of so many who had campaigned so fiercely and so faithfully over the years for the equal right to marry those they love. It was a moment of celebration that he needed, that he wanted desperately to be a part of before the onslaught of criticism and rage would inevitably be poured upon him.
Monday morning rolled around and he steeled himself for what was about to happen. He had not answered his emails, checked his message, or even turned on his phone since he sent the email Saturday night. He knew his voicemail would be full, his inbox overflowing, and that he might very well be met by a group of angry protesters when he arrived at the Diocesan Centre. Thankfully, the latter did not materialize, but he was about to be attacked.
In truth, the Bishop probably acted a bit cowardly, and even selfishly by shutting everyone except that faithful LGBTQ parish out until Monday. We know so well that he was a man who hated conflict, but he was also a man who knew himself well, and knew that with the slightest bit of interference, he would never act. Also, there was no way he could have faced Monday, if he had not prepared himself appropriately for it, so I do hope the reader will feel some empathy for our dear Bishop, even if they do not agree with his strategy.
"Bishop," called out his assistant as the Bishop walked toward his office, "Rebecca Hope is on the phone for you and will not get off the line until she speaks with you..."
"I'll take it in my office," the Bishop said, breezing past Robbie Ready and Suzanne Sharpe who were already camped out waiting for him. He closed the door and left them waiting outside. He took a deep breath and picked up his phone, "Rebecca," he said, cheerily.
"Bishop," she stated firmly, "You promised the faithful biblical Anglicans of this diocese a place in this church and you have just gone back on your word...you have marginalized us in our own church..."
"Rebecca," he interrupted calmly, as he always did, " That's simply not true...no cleric shall be forced to participate in performing a same-sex marriage against their conscience..."
"For now," she interrupted, her voice begin to raise, "but we are not fools, Bishop. This is just a first step. How do you think that the Christ-centred Christians of this diocese are feeling this morning?"
"I'd like to think we are all 'Christ-centred' Christians in this diocese, and that there will be a variety of feelings about this decision..."
"The pastoral letter, it was... was... anything but pastoral. Actually , it was thoroughly offensive and completely insensitive." In truth, it was anything but.
"How so?" he asked.
"By telling conservative clergy that they must refer gay couples to progressive clergy is asking them to condone, even participate in the sin. You have marginalized us, Bishop."
He had a thought that Mary would have told him is best left unsaid, and so he only thought it to himself - "I wonder if they feel anywhere near the marginalization Gay and Lesbian Christians have felt in this church?"
Rebecca continued, "What are you going to do with clerics who refuse to refer. Will you discipline us?"
"I think you know me, Rebecca, discipline is always the last recourse in my view. We will find a pastoral way through these concerns."
"I thought I knew you. I thought you meant it when you told us after the Synod vote that you would ensure that there would be a place in this church for everyone, that no one would be left behind, that no one would be abandoned. But you have abandoned us, Bishop."
"That's simply not true," he emphasized for the second time, "there is a place for everyone. That's what all this has been about, making sure there is space..."
"Space for Satan, Bishop. I think you will find that your church is about to get a lot smaller." And to his great surprise, she hung up on him.
He sunk back into his chair for a moment and took a deep breath. He could see the figures of Robbie and Suzanne lurking outside his door. "Why delay the inevitable?" he thought to himself. "Alright, you two, quite skulking about! Come in!"
"Bishop," Robbie began. William Perkins was really beginning to tire of the word, "I am...we are...shocked, and frankly, quite disappointed that you would have proceeded on a Saturday night on this matter without telling us about it, without consulting, and then going dark..."
"I did consult with you...numerous times. What I didn't do was tell you when I was going to act."
"Bishop, we could have supported you in this, and for the last twenty-four hours we have been fielding calls and answering questions, from angry people, from the press...we deserved to have a 'heads-up'." Robbie was of course right, but Bishop Perkins knew that they would have tried to keep stalling him to keep kicking the matter down road. He knew that he had to act without them or it would never get done. Now he was suffering the consequences of that decision and Canon Sharpe was about to issue him a much sterner admonishment that Robbie was dealing out.
"Bishop," Suzanne Sharpe almost snarled it, "Have you seen the letter posted online?" He owned he had not. "It has been signed by a number of leading conservative clerics and many more lay people. They accuse you of having acted contrary to the rule of Scripture and the Law of God, and that they can no longer give their obedience to a heretical bishop. They consider your authorization of the rite as an act of apostasy and they plan to withdraw from the Diocese and form their own Diocese in communion with the 'true' Church."
He was not surprised that this card had been played by Rebecca Hope. At last she would get to be a bishop. He was a little surprised that it had been played so quickly, though.
"The Chancellor assures me," he began, "that they cannot take their buildings or their assets.
"What are you going to do, Bishop, put locks on the church doors before next Sunday? How is that going to look? Is this what you want your legacy to be?" Suzanne began pacing with crossed arms. The bishop knew that of the conservative parishes that had signed on to that letter some were the wealthiest parishes in the Diocese and hek new Suzanne was concerned, as ever, about the money.
"Look," he reiterated to the both of them, "They can't take the buildings or the assets, but no, I will not be changing locks, at least not for now."
"You don't get it," Robbie interjected, "It's not just about the buildings or the assets at present...these are some of our richest parishes. We will lose their financial allotments to the diocese. Do you understand Bishop that the the assessment from these parishes alone makes up forty percent of our diocesan budget? They will stop pay that almost immediately, I fear, and we will be crippled without them. It's not just what they have, it's what they offer..."
"Threats, bigotry, anger...that's also what they offer, Robbie."
"Think it through, Bishop," Suzanne added, "no more little pet projects for you to support like St. Brigid's and your pal Percy. I know you don't like the word 'delinquent' but we have been keeping parishes like St. Brigid's going them on the generosity of the these so-called angry, bigoted parishes that are planning on pulling out of the church. This is a real mess, Bishop."
"Not to mention what it will do to the budget of this office!" Robbie added.
"What were you thinking?" Suzanne exclaimed
Bishop Perkins just stood there, speechless. He considered and then spoke, "I was thinking about all our siblings in Christ who have been wrongly told that they are second-class Christians, or even worse, reprobate sinners simply because they love someone of the same gender and want to commit their lives to each other. I was thinking about the pain and suffering they have had at the hands of people like us, and like Rebecca Hope, who use them as political playthings, and hold the fate of their love in our own hands -- and why? Because we are straight? Because we get to say what's right and wrong for them? Because we have the privilege to judge...?"
"And you've just torn this Diocese to shreds," Suzanne cut in, completely unmoved by anything he said. "Bishop, I've told you before, you can't play favourites, and that's exactly what you are doing. You are the pastor of the whole flock, not just one faction...if you'd talked to us first..."
"So you could stall me again? So you could advance your own little game? Your own career at the expense of the lives of others? Do you know what I don't get? I was elected Bishop. I did not put my name forward, unlike some others," he glanced momentarily aside at Robbie, "I didn't ask for this, and yet I was elected by the Synod. The Synod voted to ask me to authorize this rite and proceed with same-sex marriage, but it feels that although the clergy and people of this diocese have placed their trust in me as their bishop and in this matter, you have not, neither of you. I have not made even a small decision in these last two years without the two of you questioning me, cautioning me, correcting me, and challenging me at every turn. I wonder why I'm here at all when the diocese has the two of you who can read its mind and know its needs so intimately?"
"Bishop," said Robbie diplomatically, "It's our job to advise you, caution you, even challenge you, when necessary."
"All the time, Robbie? About everything? To make me doubt myself at every turn, at every waking moment? To doubt my vocation? To force me to act without consulting you because neither of you have once given me a single shred of support on any decision I have ever made or any initiative I have put forward? Yes, it is your job to advise me, but you will not direct me. This decision is mine, and mine alone."
"Then you shall deal with the consequences alone, Bishop," Canon Sharpe, turning away and stormed out. Robbie just looked at his feet.
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