Bishop Katharine responds to Anglican primates about bishiop-elect Glasspool

Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori has written her fellow Anglican primates regarding the upcoming consecration of bishop-elect Mary Glasspool. The letter is posted at the Diocese of East Tennessee website, and reprinted below:

March 2010

My dear brothers in Christ:

I write you because of developments in The Episcopal Church, about which you will soon hear and read. As you all know, the Diocese of Los Angeles elected two suffragan bishops in December, and the consent process for those bishops has been ongoing since then. One of those bishops-elect is a woman in a partnered same-sex relationship.

At this point, she has received consent from a majority of the bishops with jurisdiction, and a majority of the standing committees of this Church. According to our canons, I must now take order for her consecration. I will do so, and anticipate that both bishops-elect will be consecrated at the same service on 15 May. It has been my practice, since I took office, to preside at the consecration of new bishops, and I intend to do so in this case as well.

It may help you to know that our House of Bishops will continue to discuss these issues at our meeting later this month. The papers we discuss will be available publicly following that meeting, and we will endeavor to see that you receive copies. I would encourage you to engage in conversation any bishops whom you know in this Church, particularly those you came to know at Lambeth, whether in Bible study or Indaba groups.

Know that this is not the decision of one person, or a small group of people. It represents the mind of a majority of elected leaders in The Episcopal Church, lay, clergy, and bishops, who have carefully considered the opinions and feelings of other members of the Anglican Communion as well as the decades-long conversations within this Church. It represents a prayerful and thoughtful decision, made in good faith that this Church is ‘working out its salvation in fear and trembling, believing that God is at work in us’ (Philippians 2:12-13).

I ask your prayers for this Church, for the Diocese of Los Angeles, and for the members of the Anglican Communion. This part of the Body of Christ has abundant work to do, and God’s mission needs us all.

If you have questions about this decision or process, I would encourage you to contact me. I would be glad to talk with you.

I pray that your ministry may continue to be a transformative blessing to many. I remain
Your servant in Christ,

Katharine Jefferts Schori

The photo is of bishop-elect Mary and Bishop Bruno of the Diocese of Los Angeles.

Hat tip to Ann Fontaine+ [What the Tide Brings In blog], who posted the story in her status that led me to The Lead at Episcopal Cafe.  Go on, have a cuppa. 

Easter Sunday: I am the Bread of Life

I AM the Bread of Life,

All who eat this Bread will never die.

I AM God's love revealed,

I AM broken that you might be healed.

All who eat of this heavenly Bread,

All who drink this cup of the covenant

You will live forever, for I will raise you up.

I AM the Bread of Life,

All who eat this Bread will never die

I AM God's love revealed,

I AM broken that you might be healed.

No one who comes to Me shall ever hunger again,

No one who believed shall ever thirst.

All whom the Father draws shall come to Me,

And I shall give them rest.

I AM the Bread of Life,

All who eat this Bread shall never die.

I AM God's love revealed,

I AM broken that you might be healed.

As arranged by John Michael Talbot.

A Better Resurrection: Christina Rossetti

A Better Resurrection by Christina Rossetti


    I have no wit, no words, no tears;
        My heart within me like a stone
    Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears;
        Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
    I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief
        No everlasting hills I see;
    My life is in the falling leaf:
       O Jesus, quicken me.
    My life is like a faded leaf,
       My harvest dwindled to a husk:
   Truly my life is void and brief
       And tedious in the barren dusk;
   My life is like a frozen thing,
       No bud nor greenness can I see:
   Yet rise it shall--the sap of Spring;
       O Jesus, rise in me.

   My life is like a broken bowl,
       A broken bowl that cannot hold
   One drop of water for my soul
       Or cordial in the searching cold;
   Cast in the fire the perish'd thing;
       Melt and remould it, till it be
    A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.


"Sapling" 1973 by
Konstantin Vasiliev *
[1942-1976]

Words for Good Friday

Move me
Move me to the brink
with your resignation
and grimace as
the thorns dig a little
deeper
and the reed bites a little
harder
and the splinters jab
like knives in your hands
from that rough hewn
cross you are made
to haul around town

There's nothing I can do
but walk along by you
and I'll walk with you
as far as I can
or have the courage to...
it's not easy, but I
should be willing to try

After all, you are the one
to die for us all

Where's the payback?
Is there any?

You slow down and
your eyes turn to mine
as you breathe as if in
labour, you utter

"Live well, love each other,
talk to my Father, He'll
listen;
somehow it will all be good."

And with that you pick up
the pace as much as you can
and I watch as you struggle
up the street, ready to do
this thing you are called to do.

And I weep at my inadequacy
to carry on, to carry you on...
I fall over the edge,
that brink that envelopes me
as the veil is rent in two...

Women in The Garden...Maundy Thursday

I am a woman,
a woman
standing in the garden
with the Boys, over there.

I am neither planting, pruning
or scything
but I am praying,
waking and uttering
scrapings of words.

Words
murmured words
words of pleading,
that's what we hear
uttered to the Invincible One.

He, who has this Son,
HIm, over there kneeling
by that rock where
the Boys are nearby.

The women with me,
we are set apart a ways
but we can hear
His murmured words
of discourse intent,
and sometimes loud
barks, and then
quiet
for a while.

Those Boys,
they sleep and nod
stupidly when they
are supposed to be
around Him like a hedge
made of prayer and
mutual silence,
but most of all, love.

Yet no, they snore and snuffle
scratch and sniff in their
fevered dreams,
but He does not sleep,
can't because this
is no time for sleeping,
not for Him.

We girls, we watch and wait
with Him
in the night watches
in the open of the garden
where the indigo sky
encloses us roughly
against the grass and thistles.

We girls, we are made of
sturdier stuff
from the cooking, the
baking, the making,
of others all the day long,
working and doing,
and often as we do we
pray and are filled like
new skins of wine, of
pressed oil, of soft
bread.

Our wakefulness
is here to stay,
unlike those Boys,
them, over there.

If only they knew
how they will lose
sight of Him as they
lose sight of the stars
in their courses above
as the candle burns
the hours away.

And He will flame out
as all falling stars do
but only for while...we
can see it coming

In the silence we gather
our hands together,
we girls and keep our
eyes upon Him and
with Him we are,
inside our hearts will
we will grieve for
grief yet to come.

He knows, this Jesus,
that's why the soft words
melt into hard barks of
twisting hands and
pursed lips of a struggling
Man, Man Divine.

A little wind comes up now
gentle but steady and It
seems to have a purpose
known only to Itself
as it moves over Him
kneeling at that rock,
hands wringing and grasping
as his locks move on this
wind and softly buffet his
face, fluttering the wings
of a night moth alight upon
His shoulder, which is heaving.

We gather our hair veils about
our heads a little tighter,
a little closer around our hearts
so they stay and will not
engender stern looks from
the Boys should they waken
which is doubtful.

The dawn will come
and with it, soldiers
and uppity old men,
and servants, scowling.

There is not much else
we girls can do but stand
and watch our Lord be
taken away.

Our hearts will ache
but we are only women
in their sight, yet we
are so much more...

We have laid hold of His
Word, of His promises
of kingdom come,
how it will be done on
earth as in heaven.

Jesus, remember us
when You come into
Your kingdom,
the anointing of Your
feet with oil, how our
glory faded before Yours
in the foreshadowing.

May we receive what was
once whole, and now
broken, our Lord,
for we shall see You,
after Abba Father,
after all the company
of heaven, in another
garden on a morning
not unlike the one coming
but brighter.

And before the Boys do...

But it comes before that,
the hard time
when we will weep
and anoint the shell of
this Man
carrying the seed of love
for the blooming of
the world, and first we
will touch the sheaf of
finest wheat, the risen
Body and drink of Your
Voice, living water.

It is time now, Master,
Loving Lord.
We girls,
we are with You
in Your darkest hours.

Catherine

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