A Bishop's Blog Updated: 8/6/08 |
Bishop Sloan's Page
November 2008
Doughnuts and Holes
The contrast between the beauty and serenity of the photo and the dread of impending tragedy in the poem left me confused, and I tossed it into the trash. It wasn't until I read my e-mail that I started to figure out a little of what was bouncing around in my head.
I get a lot of e-mail too. My friend Lipmon Moy in Huntsville e-mails me the Forward Day by Day every morning, and this morning's meditation quoted someone as saying, "The difference between an optimist and a pessimist is that an optimist looks at the doughnut while the pessimist sees the hole." The writer observed that the disciples looked at the thousands who'd followed Jesus as the hole, but Jesus regarded the five loaves and two fish as the doughnut.
I retrieved the newsletter from the trash and read the haiku again, this time paying attention to the power of words: "gulch," "rumors," and "afraid." The person sitting by the mountain stream might just as easily have written he was by a creek bed, listening to the glory of God's Creation as the winds blew and the thunder rumbled and knowing that the rains would bring a rush of water to fill the creek by which he sat. But instead he looked for the hole in the doughnut; instead of enjoying the moment, he looked for doom. If he'd written a pleasant little poem about serenity and balance, it would not have been published. It's as if we are yearning for dread and doom, as if we can hardly wait for something to be wrong so we'll have something to talk about.
When I've had enough of listening to the news, I listen to sports talk radio. The Crimson Tide is undefeated and ranked #2 in the nation, but all I hear on the radio is how Auburn has come onto hard times. You'd think there would be a little airtime to congratulate the Alabama players and coaches, but there's just endless speculation about the Auburn coaches and What's Gone Wrong. Are we just addicted to negativity?
Now this may not be a surprise to any of you, but just in case you don't know: I am an optimist. There-I said it: unabashedly, without shame or remorse, I am openly and proudly an optimist. I prefer to look for the good, to assume the best, to give thanks for what we have. Not only that, but I am an idealist; I've even been accused of being a bleeding-heart do-gooder. Of course I might have thought Jesus had been out in the sun too long if I'd been there when He told the disciples that they were going to feed 5,000 people with a couple of dried fish and some bread, but on the whole I have to say that I am an optimist because that's how I choose to look at things. I would rather focus on the solution instead of the problem, rather be grateful for the full half of the glass than be distracted by the empty half, rather trust in the goodness of Creation and of God's children than live in suspicious dread.
I'm not sure about this, and I could be wrong, but I think that my choosing to be an optimist has something to do with how I choose to be faithful. Other people will make other choices, and I'm not saying that pessimists are unfaithful or unchristian, but my determination to be optimistic helps me rely on my faith and on the grace of God.
I get a lot of mail and a lot of e-mail. People send me their thoughts, their opinions, their hopes, their fears. We live in fearful times, with the Church in controversy, the economy on a roller coaster, and politicians yammering at us in increasingly strident tones. I'm not such a Pollyanna that I don't think there's anything bad out there, I just believe that our faith in God is our most powerful tool against fear and despair, and that God's grace trumps all other cards.
I believe that we Christians have been entrusted with the glad Good News of the love of God in
Jesus Christ our Redeemer and that we are stewards of the Gospel, not to hide and protect it but to proclaim it joyfully and faithfully. I believe it is our assurance of the love of God in the Gospel of
Christ that gives us hope and makes our lives worth living when calamity or disaster does come. We are witnesses to the Resurrection of our Lord, and we are called to live in hope, not in fear.
Sisters and brothers, please allow me to suggest that our faith does not call us to huddle in a gulch listening to rumors of doom and fearing a flood that may or may not come. If a flood comes, as happens from time to time, I trust we have enough sense to move up the creek bed so we're not washed away and enough faith to know that the waters will recede, as they always have and always will. In faith and in hope, we put ourselves, our families, our Church, and our nation in the hands of God.
The Rt. Rev. John McKee Sloan
September 2008
Reflections on Lambeth
By now you will have had the chance to read all you want to about the Lambeth Conference. There are people disappointed that we didn't resolve the controversy (in the way they wanted it settled, of course), and others who think that whoever they imagine themselves to be opposed to gained some sort of advantage. Some have written that the whole thing was a huge waste of time and money. And in truth, in some sense, nothing has changed: the voices of despair calling out doom for our Church will continue to sound the alarm, and those who blithely assume the rest of the world just need to catch up with us will sail on in indifferent arrogance.
In the bigger picture, largely filtered through the portion of the media we most agree with, we can all find support for whatever position we've already chosen to take. My take on Lambeth is that we did what we went to do: bishops from all over the world came together as one of the Instruments of Unity to listen to each other and to learn from other bishops whose settings and cultures and theological assumptions might be very different. That's what I believe we were invited to do, and that's what I think we did.
Was it worth going? Did anything get done? My answer is yes to both.
The smaller picture is filled out and colored by the other bishops I met and the building of relational bridges between people of different cultures and contexts.
The Church at our best is made up of people loving God and God's children through Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit-the love of God and love for the children of God was abundantly evident at Lambeth. All of us had to step outside our familiar contexts and understand that God's Church is alive and working hard all over the world in many different ways.
Most mornings we had Bible studies. In my group there were three from the United States, two from England, one from the Sudan, one from Northern India, and four from Myanmar in Burma. The five "Western" bishops had the great advantage of speaking the only language that all of us knew, but I was amazed to realize not only that English was not the first language for most of the others, but for several it wasn't the second either. In spite of differences in language, culture, and theology, the eleven of us became very close. I learned about the effects of the cyclone in Myanmar that killed so many thousands of people and left thousands more without shelter or food. I learned about the ravages of famine, drought, and civil war in the Sudan. I learned about the violence of extremist Hindus in Northern India. I learned about government systems unable or unwilling to address the needs of their people. And most importantly I learned about the faith of the people of God in places far away who are the hands and heart of Christ for people in terrible need-for our brothers and sisters, children of our Father in heaven, who are in terrible need.
The controversies of the Church are important, but we have many other issues to address. I was very proud to march with the other bishops through London on our way to Lambeth Palace in support of the Millennium Development Goals. I was humbled to see the work being done by faithful members of God's Church in very difficult situations with very limited resources. I was inspired by the stories of my new friends who serve Christ in our Church in the face of debilitating poverty, the threat of violence, the indifference of people near the situation, and people like me who have a hard time finding their countries on a map. We have a lot to do.
One of the bishops in my Bible study group we called Bijay, though I think his actual name is a lot more complicated and difficult to pronounce than that. He is a very small man, and as you might have noticed, I am not. Both of us are relatively new as bishops, and he is very shy. We struck up a friendship and most days had tea together after Bible study. One morning he noticed Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, surrounded by people who wanted to meet him. Bijay said, "I would like to have my picture taken with that man." I told him I thought that sounded like a good idea and asked him if he had a camera. He pulled his digital camera out of his bag, and I suggested that he go ask the archbishop. Bijay was scandalized-there was no way this little man would just go up and talk to the Archbishop of Canterbury. He said, "You go. You ask him."
Well, actually, I'm a little shy myself. And this is the Archbishop of Canterbury, after all. I have several of his books, as yet unread, to prove how much smarter he is than I am. But I could see that it meant a lot to Bijay, so I gathered my courage, waited my turn, and then said to the archbishop, "My little friend would like to have his picture taken with you." Rowan Williams was very gracious, and I lined the two of them up and took the picture. I thanked the archbishop and showed Bijay his picture. After a while he tugged on the sleeve of my shirt and said, "I will show this picture to my people. Today I am not such a small man."
There were many, many such moments, stories from the small picture of people making connections and building bridges. This, I think, was the real purpose for Lambeth: for the bishops of the Anglican Communion to come together in the love of God. It wasn't compelling news, it wasn't exciting politics, and it didn't settle any issues. But it strengthened the bonds of love that keep our Church together, and I am proud to have been a part of it.
The Rt. Rev. John McKee Sloan
Archive:
- Apostle Column 11/08 (Read)
- Apostle Column 09/08 (Read)
- Apostle Column 06/08 (Read)
- Apostle Column 05/08 (Read)
- Convention Festival Eucharist Sermon 2/21/08 (Read) (Listen)
- Apostle Column 02/08 (Read)
