Friday, February 03, 2012

An Episcopal Election
in Auld Reekie

A new Bishop for the Diocese of Edinburgh is in the making and will be elected and consecrated.

You can bank on it.

Get into your time machine and dial up a date two years hence and there will be a bishop in post down at Grosvenor Crescent on the telephone ironing out some knotty problem in measured tones.

That bishop may well be one of the three candidates announced a while back on the Diocesan web page.

It's a small list - three names is the very minimum the Preparation Committee can present to an electoral synod. Some minimal lists of three names seem like big lists and contain candidates who might attract the support of a variety of constituencies and produce odd and interesting alliances of electors.

Other lists don't seem quite as large. With all the forward preparation, and with no allowances in the Canon for candidates nominated from the floor, it's always been a bit of a stretch to describe the Scottish process as anything other than "a process of appointment with some discussion in the final phase".

Some small lists seem to palliate that problem. Others don't.

No group of electors likes to feel pushed around.

We have not been lucky with episcopal elections in Scotland, of late. There seems to be a bug in the system. It's not so much a problem of what happens when the list hits the floor of Synod. It's what happens in the lead up - behind closed doors - with a process which we are not supposed to know anything about.

The relevant Canon - Canon 4 which governs the election of Bishops - imposes a great deal of discretion (even secrecy) upon the Preparation Committee as to the way the list of candidates is arrived at.

Anyone may nominate. There's not even a provision to preclude somebody nominating more than one candidate. We have no idea how many candidates were nominated but there are no natural limits in place to keep the list from being long and very interesting.

It falls to the Preparation Committee to go through the list, solicit written responses to a questionnaire, interview and come up with a shortlist of between three and five "electable" candidates to place before the lay and clerical electors of the Diocese.

A candidate may be nominated and then decide not to go ahead and write the necessary (and voluminous) responses to a series of questions posed by the Committee. A nominated candidate may further discuss the move with his or her family and be told "not on your life, buddy"!

For their part, the Preparation Committee may not like the written responses of the candidate and decide not to interview. The interview may take place and, as a result, a particular candidacy may be placed to the side.

At some point the Scottish House of Bishops will exercise its canonical right to exclude names from the list. How many of the candidates, in our case, were deemed "suitable" by the Scottish House of Bishops is another one of the unknowns. Perhaps all the candidates passed muster. Or maybe the list was pruned back tightly by the Scottish House of Bishops and only a few names remained.

The process as outlined in our Canon 4 provides for confidentiality throughout the process.

That's a damned good idea - in itself. There is a risk to clergy allowing their names to stand for election to a diocese. The people of St Swithins, East Badger, might feel that their local clergyperson had let them down, somehow, by allowing his or her name stand in an episcopal election in far off Edinburgh with its cobblestones, it's University and its upscale shops.

Equally, those clergy who don't even make it through the first cut wouldn't want their colleagues, professional rivals or congregations to know that decades of apparently successful ministry hadn't even warranted an interview in what, in the Anglican world, might seem a rather small diocese.

These, then, are risks. And so anyone looking at the resulting shortlist and asking the question:

"Holy cow, what happened there!"

must rely on that self-same rumour mill which ordinarily generates such headlines as:

The Bishop of Aberdeen and Orkney Ate My Hamster!

and

Faith and Order Board Finds Holy Grail - Escapes in UFO with Elvis

for the persistent rumour is that there were, in fact, very few nominations for the post.

If true, this is hard news to digest. Why would there be so few nominations?

Most of the congregations in our Diocese record some growth (albeit modest) each year and a couple of congregations are growing quickly. Clergy of very different theological stripes maintain close friendships with each other and this even across lines which would ordinarily divide other Dioceses and Provinces. A quick glance at The Edge, our Diocesan magazine and a scan of the last dozen or so Bishops Announcements will reveal a healthy level of activity undertaken by both young and old on our patch. Our program of lay education - Adventures in Faith - certainly has no flies on it. Edinburgh is a charming city and the outlying towns have their own unique attributes. There's a university with a School of Divinity. The air and the water are clean. The Rector of Balerno and the Rector of Penicuik, between them, control access to a dozen or so reservoirs in the Pentland Hills containing plenty of Brown Trout and any Bishop applying for access will get a special rate.

Lots of opportunity for hill walking.

And so the idea of there not being a healthy bolus of creative and interesting clergy interested in being cultivated as a potential future Bishop of Edinburgh has us all checking our collective underarm for untoward odours.

Is there something wrong with us that we're not aware of?

Or maybe it's the fault of ordinary members like your humble servant here. It was up to us, after all, to think, discern and research and then to telephone, cajole and nominate. Perhaps we are the problem then - lazy sods that we are - and, if this is the case, we have let each other down badly and I look forward to being told so from the Chair at the first of our two meetings of the Electoral Synod tomorrow.

Our Canon 4 - dealing with the election of Bishops - is a strange beast.

That veto exercised, for example, by the Scottish House of Bishops. The assumption is that the Bishops, through their contacts and by way of discreet conversation, will come to know things which the Preparation Committee will not: that Father X had a tendency to drop his trousers and scream out "Armageddon" at the end of Compline services when he was at college. The Diocese of Edinburgh needs to be protected from such proclivities which might still be lurking under the surface. Mother Y, for her part, still has people around who remember the famous Restraining Order which one of her churchwardens took out against her in the 80's. There was that story about her and the spraycan of yellow paint and it's not the place of the electors - clerical or lay - to know why or even that the names of these two individuals were quietly withdrawn from the list by the bishops.

Nobody wants to know the details.

(Ed. That's not completely true. My friend Earle wants to know the details and whether there are any black-and-white photos which might be available for download. )

Most of us are all happy enough to have somebody in Episcopal orders exercising this prevenient caution on our behalf.

Herein lies the problem: There's nothing in the Canon which specifically states that when the House of Bishops pulls someone's name from the list it is because they have identified a tangible threat to the Peace, Order and Good Government of the Scottish Episcopal Church.

Such a degree of control over the reservoir of men and women who may be considered by an electoral synod for Episcopal ministry in the Diocese of Edinburgh - if it is based on subtle estimations by the present House of Bishops of who does, or does not, have "Scottish Bishop" written all over them

- if not frankly unacceptable is, at least, something which must be discussed. If it was discussed in days of yore it should be discussed again.

One trusts that the political life of the Church isn't just ordinary politics. One might go so far as to hope that it has, built into it, an openness to elements which are both gracious and even unexpected.

We are willing to be surprised.

Notwithstanding some ambivalent feelings about our process for identifying and raising up bishops for the Scottish Episcopal Church, we remain hopeful that a suitable candidate will emerge.

Tomorrow we listen to presentations from the candidates presented to us. Next Saturday, in our respective Houses, we vote.








Saturday, January 21, 2012

Whisky is the Fountain of Youth

My old seminary chum Bruce, in Montreal, is turning 59 in the next day or two. Feeling his age he asked if I could recommend a good single malt to drown his sorrows in. Now, just because you move to Scotland you don't immediately turn into a Scottish version of Yoda able to say "Och Aye...." and make binding recommendations about whisky. However, my response to Bruce may prove useful to a wider community and so I here publish it for all and sundry:

Poor Bruce. I suppose the only thing worse than turning 59 is the alternative.

I find that a 12 year old Highland Park confers an increment of youthfulness with each glass taken. After glass one you realise how your many years have equipped you with the sort of sophisticated palette that a younger man could only dream about. After glass two you turn to your lady wife and are struck by her mature graces and your good fortune in having her. It will be no consolation to the good woman, however, that after glass six you've turned into a disgusting old Bacchus and are making time in the corner with a twenty-five year old exchange student from Guatemala. After glass eight you curl your lip and say "It's not fair". After glass ten you wet yourself and need to be changed. After glass twelve all the women present make clucking noises and say "Oh look, he's asleep".

12 year old Highland Park, Bruce. Damned fine whisky.














Monday, January 16, 2012




Anyone growing tired of the Authorized Version of Burns' Address to a Haggis and looking for the Good News Version of same is welcome to borrow mine (giving credit where credit is due).



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thought for the Day
Good Morning Scotland
BBC Radio Scotland
Monday, January 16, 2012

Disaster plans.

Our hearts go out to all who have been lost. The story of the Costa Concordia is still to be written as emergency crews search for survivors in the overturned cruise ship off the West coast of Italy. Questions are emerging about the adequacy of the ship's preparedness for a disaster and the timeliness of the initial response to the grounding.

If you dig through the layers of many ancient cities you will encounter what are known as destruction layers - typified by the presence of blackened or broken masonry indicating that a city was periodically put to the torch or subjected to natural catastrophe and its inhabitants beset by tragic circumstances. It is a given that disasters will take place. They are a part of the history of human communities.

As you look at the rubble and the blackened bricks you wonder what the people were thinking and what they did to alleviate their own distress and that of others. Human stories from ancient disasters are hard to come by but we do have modern analogies.

In such tragic circumstances two sets of stories frequently emerge: In one set of stories those in responsibility abandon their post. In so doing they abandon those they are meant to be caring for. In another set of stories some germ of human worth dominates. Places in lifeboats are given to others - the weak and the infirm are thrown over the shoulders of the able-bodied and carried to safety. Plans are worked out on the backs of envelopes by torchlight and everybody shoulders the task they've been given and performs it admirably.

Do you have a disaster plan?

What will you take with you?

How will you preserve the life around you and, in so doing, your own humanity?

In our disaster plans we must give thought, not only to our passports, our wallets and our credit cards but also to our nobility, our responsibility, and our love of strangers.



Thursday, December 22, 2011

Thought for the Day
Good Morning Scotland
BBC Radio Scotland
December 22nd, 2011

At our service of Nine Lessons and Carols the other night we had our university students back in the congregation and in the choir. Back for a while, they look forward to restoring the familiar - to having their laundry done, to having a meal with the people they know.

We know who sits where and who carves the turkey. We appreciate Christmas carols we can sing without looking at the words. Once we've had a glass of mulled wine - or two - we might even provoke a little amusement, in familiar surroundings, by chancing the bass line or the descant.

There are folk who aren't at the table - family members and friends we've not gotten on with since the "event" of 1979 or 1982. Or maybe we've just drifted. We are unsettled by this state of affairs.

But we might ask, defensively, "why should we always be the first one to pick up the phone?"

The traditions of Christmas meals and celebrations with limited groups of our dearest and closest have more to do with the residue of North West European village life than they do with the Christmas stories in Matthew and Luke, where you'll find a surprising amount about the outsider, the alien, the stranger - those who've been thrust to the margins - being invited by God into the heart of the story: The strangeness of the foreign wise men - even the angels in the dead of night visiting shepherds - who are in no way integral t the story - for no good reason other than to announce that God has given a gift to those who are far off welcoming them in.

If the gift is for us it is for the outsider as well and for the person we find it hard to speak with. The nagging feeling about the unwritten letter and the unaccomplished healing phone call has its origins right at the heart of the Christmas story. It is a timely reminder that, as the Scottish Liturgy puts it,

"...when we were still far off (God) met us in (his) Son and brought us home..."

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An audio link is available for a limited time HERE. TFTD begins at 1:18.20 - halfway along the audio bar.



Thursday, December 01, 2011

Thought for the Day
Good Morning Scotland
BBC Radio Scotland
December 1st, 2011

Many of our parents here in Penicuik and West Linton shuffled their schedules yesterday to accommodate children who were not in school because of the strikes. Some folks had to go in to work anyway, while others were on reduced duties. Many didn't go in at all. Still others braved the blustery weather to take their places on picket lines.

Well-informed and good-hearted people might disagree on some of the issues surrounding
this strike action. It seems clear, though, is that there's no reason to suppose that life simply is the way it is with nothing more to be said on the matter.

We've had a good solid dose these last few years of being told that things are the way they must be and that there's nothing else really to be said or done. It's the way the economy is, it's what the climate of finance nowadays dictates. From men in yellow jackets reminding us what the rules are or computers generating lists of what we owe the bank one would be forgiven for thinking that we were nothing but leaves blown about in the breeze.

Our society depends greatly on what is called, in French, a "rapport des forces" - a balance between strong individuals or groups which is held in tension but which nonetheless produces stability. That rapport can fall apart. Unhappy conflict can develop when one side attempting to exercise total victory over the other.

Most of the time, however, and what has developed over the generations - is a painfully won agreement about the nature and stability of our work, This is based, in part, on the belief that everything is negotiable. Life is more fluid than we think. One of the canticles - taken from the opening chapters of Luke's Gospel - describes the work of God as "putting down the mighty from their seat and exalting the humble".

Ordinary working people have a voice - and a role in deciding how they want to work and live.

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an audio link is available for a limited time HERE. TFTD begins at 1:23.38 - halfway along the audio bar.



Thursday, November 24, 2011

More than just noise

My friend Iain asked me, when this picture surfaced on Facebook, "Why are you smiling? Are you deaf?"

No - I'm beginning to find it quite tolerable.

The relationship between music and what a set of bagpipes does is sometimes a bit tenuous. Even though I can pick out most of the canonical tunes I'm not sure I think of bagpipes as musical instruments.

Today was graduation day for people like me at the University of Edinburgh. I've been poking away at an MTh by Research for a couple of years now and I received my degree. It wasn't particularly cold and there was a fair bit of wind and some light drizzle. There were white ties and academic processions. There was much happiness.

A perfect day for bagpipes, in other words - uniquely able to transmit the spirit of a place an an occasion and much appreciated by me - even up close.

So much more than mere noise.



Thursday, November 17, 2011

Thought for the Day
Good Morning Scotland
BBC Radio Scotland
Thursday, November 17th

A massive yellow stone – the Sun Drop Diamond – sold at auction in Geneva the other day for a princely sum in excess of 12 million dollars. No one knows whether the anonymous buyer intends to set the stone as a piece of jewellery or whether he’ll be slipping it into a safety deposit box as a hedge against fluctuating currencies.

It’s just a diamond, though, and diamonds are made of carbon. Perfectly ordinary carbon subjected to the natural processes of intense pressure and heat over time but able to generate much attention.

The value of things is what we attribute to them – how much attention we pay to them. Something which is valuable this year may not be valuable next year. Things which we threw away as worthless fifty years ago now command a high price on Ebay.

My wife, and my children are mostly made of carbon.

As is the new person at my church in Penicuik who I don't really know yet. She's a face I have now seen twice. I said to myself, after she escaped at the end of the service and didn't come to coffee, that I'm going to have to nab her next time before she leaves - to introduce myself – to welcome her to St James’. To say that we’re glad she’s here.

Within communities people emerge – with their talents and their stories – and take their place. Through us – or perhaps even in spite of us - they begin to discern God’s attention which speaks of their innate value - their worthiness.

Jesus is perpetually telling us in the Gospels to look out for the Pearl of Great Price buried in an ordinary field, or the insignificant mustard seed which becomes the greatest shrub of the garden or the sick, the lonely, the needy and the prisoner.

"When you care for them", says Jesus, "you care for me" and therefore – he says - you need to pay attention.

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A link to audio can be found HERE. TFTD begins at 1:23.44 - halfway along the audio bar.