On the Way Home to Pittsburgh

It’s always interesting to read somebody else’s perspective on you.  So here is how Father Marc Jacobson viewed our time together, as reported in his most recent Prayer Letter:

I was in Manila a mere 36 hours before the arrival of Bishop Dorsey McConnell from Pittsburgh via Taiwan. We spent an awesome five days together as he experienced nearly every aspect of our mission work. He met the Executive Secretary of the Roman Catholic Biblical Commission with whom we have worked so closely to gain Imprimatur for SIL translations. He prayed with our scholars at 5am and again just before going to bed, and got to know them in a variety of contexts in between. He travelled by taxi, pedicab, plane, jeepney, motorcycle and outrigger canoe, failing only in his desire to ride a water buffalo. He met with Capul’s bishop and helped us gain his promise to sign the Memorandum of Agreement on October 8 for the continuing work of the Inabaknon Heritage Society.

Then we took the first of three outrigger canoes to Capul where he videoed Bible studies, joined in morning and evening prayers, hiked five miles to the sustainable farm (and swam in the ocean) before returning to town by boat and “motorcycle taxi”. He saw the light house built in 1902 and with 20 distinguished guests of the IHS dedicated the Library and ground floor of the Center to God’s good purposes. Oh yes, there was a whole roasted pig and he was taught cultural dances. More evening prayers and a flawless return to Manila and his early morning flight to the US.

I was exhausted and went back to bed until noon….

My greatest blessing from the bishop’s recent visit was that his presence forced me to explain, and thereby to see anew what had become too familiar. I wish you could all visit Capul, experiencing first hand, as did he, that this island, and the Abaknon a people, are indeed well worth your commitment.

Now, this is fascinating.  In the first place I thought he was the “indefatigable one” and I was the one trying to keep up with

Mass with Marc+ at the Library

him.  Secondly, when I look at my schedule the way he describes it, it does seem like a lot; but at the time it just seemed normal. So since I returned, I have been considering my tendency to think something more can always be fit into my calendar. 

I have been back home a little more than a week, now, and at first, it didn’t seem like a big deal, all the travel. Yes, it did seem a little weird landing in the US an hour before I took off from Japan (the dateline thing), but I slept well on the plane, and went straight from the airport to the McLure Lecture at PTS given by an old friend of mine, Dr. Daniel Jeyeraj. Daniel is a great missiologist, now teaching in England. His lecture addressed the myriad ways that the Christian mission to India actually affected Christianity in Europe, Britain and the United States– a potent reminder that there is no such thing as “the local Church!”  Tuesday I had my usual meetings and taught in the evening on the English Reformation from 1520 to 1558 at PTS– the introduction to Anglicanism that Jay Geisler and I are leading. Wednesday

Seeing the Face of God in Squirrel Hill

began with a Bible study at the Rivers Club, then meetings at the Cathedral, ending with Solemn Evensong at the Church of the Redeemer in Squirrel Hill. Thursday was Staff, a long phone call with other bishops, and in the evening a webcast with TREC, the task force of resturcturing the Episcopal Church.  Friday and Saturday were the anti-Racism Workshop, and Sunday a great visitation with the good people of Saint Francis in Somerset.

I hit the wall Monday night just in time for Diocesan Council. I’m not sure what I said for my report, but blessedly, I kept it short. I started writing this on Tuesday; I have been getting steadily more sane, and am presently at the Clergy Conference in Ligonier, learning a lot more about preaching from my colleagues with the help of Fr. Jason Ingalls, Director of the Scholar Priests Initiative, which is proving to be an enormous blessing.

So let me draw two lessons from the conjunctions of these experiences– my life in the Pacific, and my life back home here in Southwest Pennsylvania.

Lesson One: Do not confuse your busy-ness with God’s work. Hopefully, my schedule is in service to Jesus; if that is true then He is the Master of my time. We read in the gospels that at times the

Jason Ingalls+ with New Friends at Clergy Conference

disciples were so busy, “with many coming and going, so that they had no leisure even to eat.” And yet Jesus is not harried, never hectic, always serenely Himself even in the midst of 5,000 hungry people. My Father is working still, He notes (John 5:17), and I am working. I am learning that sometimes the less I try to cram everything into my schedule, the more easily I can see God at work and see more easily how to come alongside that work.

Lesson Two: Jesus means what He says about the mustard seed (Mark 4:30-32). A little Episcopal parish on Taiwan decides to start a kindergarten; thirty years later it has four hundred kids, has rebuilt twelve churches in another country, and occupies half a city block. An Episcopal missionary washes up on an island in the Phlippines with the idea of translating the New Testament into Inabaknon; thirty-six years later 30,000 people have received the gift of literacy in their own language, and a Biblical Renewal Movement is sweeping Catholic Churches across the country. Ask each of the players in these miracles and they will acknowledge that while they had something to do with it, it was all about the power of God.  

Since I have been home, I am seeing and hearing about this power breaking out in new ways through and around our churches– many of them small in numbers but leaning on Christ’s hope for them to grow in confidence about their future. As bishop, I will try to help that work wherever I find it, preach that hope where it is absent, encourage it where it is weak, bear witness to its fruit wherever I see it coming forth. I’ll put forward some more thoughts about this at Convention, how we can all do this better together, but for the moment, let me simply ask what would happen if we took in the full import of this promise of Jesus: My Father is working still, and I am working. 

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Saturday

So, about this gecko.

When Evan was little we had a gecko. Evan named him Spot. It was interesting watching him shed, but he was a sullen pet. He once bit Evan on the finger, and their relationship was cool therafter. To my knowledge, Spot never made a peep.

So I want to know the story on this distant cousin on Capul, the one sounding a loud two-tone call under my window at 4:30 a.m. It’s not exactly mournful. He just sounds worried. Uh-oh, he chants. High then low, roughly a minor third. Uh-oh. Uh-oh.

Pause.

Uh-oh.

Good thing I’m a morning person.

This little toko (that is its name in Inabaknon) is one of a myriad wonderful things I will experience this day for the first time.

Take coconuts, for example.

You may think you have had a coconut.

Best Ever Coconut

But until you have had an immature coconut cut from a tree in the middle of the forest, by a man who has climbed fifty feet straight up (in about ten seconds) just so you could taste it, and had Reuben whack a sluice into its side with a machete, until you have poured the silky sweet water into your mouth, then let Reuben cut the thing in half, scoop out the soft membrane, and hand it to you like a tortilla made of pork fat and tasting like … nothing I have ever tasted before: well, until then, you have never had a coconut.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

To get to that coconut, we have to climb over the little ridgeline that runs down the spine of the island. This followed morning prayers and Eucharist at 7:00, so by the time Reuben is leading Marc and me up the steep trail, it is 9:00 and already impressively warm. The sun is out in full force, but I am so glad for the exercise, I don’t mind. The elevation gain to the top

Capul Town seen from the ridge

is only about 600 feet. And the surroundings are brilliant: grove after grove of coconut palms, thick tropical forest, clearings that are the homes of family and friends and relations of the scholars and board members and translators, and of course Marc knows everybody, so it is really both a hike and a progressive pastoral visitation.

There is a goal, besides the coconut: we’re headed to Sawang, one of the coastal villages on the other side of Capul, where Reuben has been engaged in a remarkable work of evangelism for more than five years.  He’s leading the hike at an easy lope, wearing flip flops, and as I hump along behind him in my hiking boots, with Marc bringing up the rear, Reuben tells me a little of his calling.  Continue reading →

[NB: More photos are coming, so check back later!]

Mark had told me that by the time we got to Capul, I would have used every means of transport common to Filipinos with the exception of the carabao, the buffalo. My reply was: why not a buffalo? The people of Capul thought that was great and are even now trying to find me one. I am secretly praying the beast will be unavailable.

So, a 3:45 a.m. taxi ride to the airport leads to a turboprop plane ride across the mountains to Catarman.

The plane arriving in Catarman

There we are picked up by a motorized tricycle and driven for our appointments in town.

…next, a tricycle…

Following that we climb aboard the “jeepney.” This is a piece of engineering genius: originally it was a surplus WWII American Jeep cut in half and extended to accommodate a dozen or so passengers. Now they are made commercially and used all over the Philippines connecting small towns to each other, the way Greyhound or Trailways used to operate when I was a kid: only these are packed.  The photo does not do justice to the efficiency with which this culture can fit an entire village into a shoebox! I wonder if this has something to do with why people are so gentle here. There literally isn’t room for someone with an attitude.

…next, a jeepney…

The Jeepney takes us to Allen, a seaside town named after a WWII American general (I would love to know the back story). We put our luggage on board the outrigger canoe, and hail a pedi-cab for the marketplace: there we pick up some fresh produce, and make it back to the, um, pier in plenty of time.

The outrigger canoe to Capul

The boat for Capul is supposed to leave at noon. However, as in a lot of non-Western societies, time here is relational. The hands of my watch go past 12:15, then 12:25. Finally, a bus pulls up with about thirty passengers: they are all Abaknons, of course. So, the lower value (leaving on time) is submitted to the higher value (don’t leave your family behind). Maybe we in the US could do with a little more of this kind of thinking.

The canoe is a marvel: first, it is pull-started, like a lawnmower. Only this thing has twin Diesel engines with screws that must way close to a hundred pounds apiece. These young men get both engines going on the first pull.

The journey across the Strait is uneventful. This is a good thing: during the period of the Spanish galleons, more ships sank here than anywhere else in the world– over 90 wrecks were recorded off the coasts of Capul. When the National Geographic Society came here a few years ago to do a survey of the remains, they found there weren’t any. The swift waters had long since scrubbed the ocean floor, up to 90 fathoms down.

Canoe landing at Capul

The canoe drops us on the beach at the entrance to the town of Capul, and we are soon on a motorcycle taxi wending through narrow streets which take us to the IHS center. I meet two of Marc’s “mother-tongue” translators, Weny and Reuben, and get a quick tour of the building. It is still under construction, but about two-thirds completed. In addition to the computer room (where I am staying, on a very comfortable cot), there are two kitchens (inside and outside, a Filipino norm), a bedroom and bath for the director, the library, the translations office, and upstairs hostel-style bedrooms for the students who will be in residence. These students, both girls and boys, will come from the three other villages on the island to attend the high school next door to the center. As at Agata House in Manila, scholars here will receive room, board, and a small stipend, and live under the same modified Benedictine rule. The vision is clear: learned Christians, in community, in the world.

Marc out and about

After a nap, we take a brief outing. By then it is almost six o’clock and the sun has very nearly set. Still, as Marc goes out and about, it seems every ten feet he runs into someone he knows: warm greetings, asking after family, Suzanne, the kids, the grandkids. I am introduced at least a dozen times. I already know the word for “bishop” in Inabaknon, borrowed directly from the Spanish obispo, and when it comes up there are smiles, raised eyebrows, someone takes my hand and either kisses my ring, or touches it to their forehead. (I am going to be impossible when I get home.)

Among those we meet is a member of Marc’s board named Mercy; she is a retired teacher and now on the town council. Her husband Pantit is one of the Center’s translators, and she is a wonderful tour guide. She shows me the old parish church, which dates back to 1496, still surrounded by remnants of the original town walls, and the same spring used by the Spaniards, still an important feature of town life. The crews of the galleons loaded their casks with fresh water here, the last service station until their next stop– Acapulco.

By the time we get back to the Center it is dark. Warren, the Center’s 16-year-old scholar/caretaker, has prepared us a soup for dinner, and by the time it is consumed, I am about ready to fall asleep into my empty bowl.  But there is still the Bible Study.

Yes. You remember. The Sower and the Seed? People have been organizing their friends around this for most of the afternoon, and by the time we finish our soup, people are gathering in the library. In a few minutes there are twenty in all. This is a much more diverse group than in Taiwan or Uganda: several members of the Board, half a dozen high school students, some retirees, a couple of young parents. The range in age is from 14 to well over 70! I use the same protocol as before: I do a brief introduction, we go around the room reading the passage (Mark 4:1-20) a verse at a time, in English, then Inabaknon. Then I ask them to divide into three groups to discuss, as specifically as possible, where they find the Hard Ground, Stony Ground or Thorny Ground (respectively) in their own lives.  They take about fifteen minutes, then come back to share. There was more than I can report here, but the most interesting emphasis, I think, is the sense of shame.

a few of my new friends

In all three kinds of “soil” there is the recurring presence of the “higher status person” who makes them feel inferior– the idea that what you have to offer isn’t valued, because of others who are higher up in the social ladder. That is the “hard ground” that won’t admit the good word of our infinite worth before the Father. As in Taiwan, the “stony ground” is being made fun of or mocked for their faith, especially among the students; but the “thorny ground” has more to do with daily worries about family, money and children, and I am instantly reminded this is a much poorer community than I was in a few days earlier. At the end, I ask them to go back into small groups and ask one question: where in their lives is the good soil from which God brings the fruit of His Kingdom. When they come back the answers are many and various, but I’m going to save this piece for a later blog!

After prayers are offered, all the good-byes are said, and everyone leaves, I am seriously ready for bed. Marc and I debrief a little, and I head upstairs thinking I might fall asleep on the landing. I do manage to make it to my room, however. I thank God for His mercies, for Marc and Suzanne and the lives of everyone I have met; I pray for Betsy and Evan and the Diocese, but I don’t remember getting more than halfway through the Lord’s Prayer. I pass out somewhere in the middle of “forgive us our trespasses” and not even the persistent evening crow of the roosters, or the weird chanting of the gecko outside my window can trouble my sleep.

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Fr Marc and Four of the Scholars

Imagine a traffic jam.  Then put 23 million people into it.  That’s Manila.

This is a world-class city, full of really hard-working people who seem to be going 24/7. You’d expect them to be grumpy all the time.  So far I haven’t met a soul that fits that description. Rather they are gentle, solicitous, thoughtful, kind. Caught in a traffic snarl that would cause homicides in New York or Boston, they rarely use the horn. They are deeply oriented toward each other. Filipinos do almost nothing by themselves. 

Maybe this is one reason why Fr Marc’s house of scholars in Agata Street is so full of grace.

Marc and Suzanne came to the Philippines in 1978 as Bible translators for the Summer Institute of Linguistics (aka Wycliffe) in service to the Abaknon people of Capul in Northern Samar, where we are headed today. The House of Scholars in Manila is a small intentional community of five young people, plus Marc, all drawn from the Abaknon community. The current group, ranging in age from 17 to 27, are attending university-level programs in everything from accounting to industrial engineering. They receive a small stipend, room, board, and tuition from the Inabaknon Heritage Society. They also live according to a modified Benedictine rule: Morning Prayer and Eucharist (English) at 5:15 a.m., Evening Prayer (Inabaknon) at 7:30 p.m.  In each of the offices there is serious time for reflection and praise.  To hear the Jubilate chanted softly in Inabaknon, in four parts, is to have died and gone to heaven! When Marc is not here, the eldest resident, Richie, takes on what supervision of the community is necessary: the others tease him for his authority, calling him The Bishop, which he takes with a broad shy grin. I offered him my ring, but he turned me down flat!

On Agata Street: Take our Picture! (No, Don’t)

Walking is Better than Driving!

As a linguist, Marc has not only translated the Scriptures himself: that would be too easy. He has been a leader in recruiting “mother tongue” translators, who along really have a sense of the delicate ins and outs of their languages. This is why, I suspect, the people actually own the Scripture as theirs. He is also licensed to teach Scripture and theology to Roman Catholic seminarians and clergy. I have asked for a Bible and Prayer Book in the language of Capul. 

There is much more to tell. It being 3:45 a.m., however, I have to head out for a flight to the south for our island visit, the last leg being in outrigger canoe. I will be blessing the new library and education center and meeting with a host of local elders and people. Please pray for your sisters and brothers on Capul and traveling mercies and blessings for Marc and me.

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I am never going to get caught up unless I compress the last three days in Taiwan into a single post, so here goes.

Sunday

Saint John’s Cathedral

Saint John’s Cathedral is a beautiful, vibrant place, grey on the outside, but filled with light, color, and joy within. We are blessed by what is, I believe, the warmest welcome I have ever received outside of Pittsburgh.

The Taiwanese Welcome in English and Spanish

The liturgy is in Mandarin and English, and the place is packed. Saint John’s repeats a familiar profile: a dedicated congregation with a thriving kindergarten, reaching out beyond their walls, blessing their neighborhood and their diocese.

The welcome comes from the senior warden, who greets us in English, while another member of the Vestry translates into perfect Spanish for the benefit of our Latino bishops.

+David with +Bill Franklin and Dean Elizabeth and +Don Johnson

The PB preaches and David Lai celebrates with his customary enthusiasm and reverence.

The Choir Rocks Us

And the choir rocks us with a bluesy spiritual: so we have just about everything– Book of Common Prayer liturgy, worship and greeting in three languages, Wesleyan hymns, Chinese songs, and a spiritual sung by a Taiwanese chorus. Is this heaven?

No Ordinary Tofu

Afterwards, we are treated to an amazing lunch. Check out the soup. It’s called Chrysanthemum Bean Curd: believe me, you never had tofu like this.

While the rest of the bishops head to the hotel, +David and Lily jump into the back of a taxi with me and we head for the Cathedral to meet for a Bible Study. There are twelve young people waiting for me, along with the assisting priest at Saint John’s. These folks are about twenty years old, on average.  I hand the video rig off to a young man who somehow manages to handle the camera and participate in the discussion. We take the same approach as before– dividing into three groups to discuss the Parable of the Sower– one for hard ground, one for stones, one for thorns.  Three really interesting things emerge.

My Saint John’s Bible Study Group

First, this group is clearly more interested in the problem of temptation than the group at Good Shepherd. Cheating on exams comes up as a piece of hard ground– so temptation to do wrong consumes the foreground and the word of God just bounces off. Second, the stony ground for these young people is the non-Christian environment of their schools– the fact that their friends make fun of their faith or the Bible, joking with them that they should cut off a hand or pluck out their eye to show obedience to Jesus. The thorns tend to be the same as the previous group (schedule, social pressure, desire to succeed), but when I ask the million-dollar questions– where is the fertile ground at the bottom of our hearts, and how does the seed find it and bear fruit– an answer comes that hasn’t arisen before. Well it’s the Holy Spirit that is in our hearts, right? So the Word falls into that, and bears fruit that pushes up through all the thorns and the stones and the hard ground. So we look at John 15 and Romans 5 and 8 and then back to John 1, and what emerges is the wonderful truth: the word which the sower sows is not simply the word about Jesus. The Word is Jesus: the crucified and risen Son who makes His home in us with the Father. He is the one who brings forth fruit in us, fruit that looks like him.  The Dean tells me later:  “They want you to come back!!” I think, maybe next time with some young people from the Diocese of Pittsburgh??

Monday

The first speaker this morning told us, When I was in university I fell in love with a very beautiful girl, who is now my wife. We began dating, but the better we got to know each other, the more painful became the secret I was hiding from her. Finally, after we had been going out together for one year, I told her: I am a Christian. She looked at me, shocked. ‘So am I,’ she said.

Archbishop Uematsu

The speaker was Archbishop Nathaniel Uematsu, of the Episcopal Church in Japan, the Nippon Sei Ko Kai. Thus he communicated in a most personal way the position of a Christians who together constitute less than 1% of the population. They not only face the challenges of other native religions, but an additional stigma from their history of silence during the rise of fascism in the years leading up to WWII. They were seen as supportive of the State against the interests of the people.

Archbishop Kim

This contrasts with the story told by the Archbishop of Korea, Paul Kim, for whom a theology of the Church “with and for the people” has been foundational– needless to say, mission is easier with such a reputation.

Prime Bishop Malecdan

The clearest example of such a theology, however, was articulated by the Most Reverend Edward Malecdan, Prime Bishop of the Episcopal Church of the Philippines. In the aftermath of Tropical Storm Haiyan, the Episcopal Church immediately moved relief supplies into the hardest-hit areas, in which they did not have a presence; as they did so they discovered the reason that all the housing was so catastrophically erased. The people are tenants, and as such have no right to the land on which they live.  So they build houses that are intentionally temporary, strong enough to last a year, perhaps, and certainly not able to withstand the winds of the most powerful storm ever to hit land. So, the Church bought land, divided it into lots, lent people the money at zero interest to buy lots and build stronger homes which they now own. It is common for people to pay the loans off in half the time required.

The afternoon was taken up by a closed session in which three topics were presented, a report from TREC on restructuring the governance and administration of the Episcopal Church, a report from the Task Force on Marriage, and a report from the Joint Nominating Committee for the Presiding Bishop.  Bishops have a covenant not to speak publicly about the proceedings of closed sessions.  However, I will have more to say on all three of these subjects in due course.

Tuesday

The morning included a Town Hall Session (basically a whole bunch of announcements). I gave an overview of The Bible in the Life of the Church Initiative, and my plan for recording the Bible studies in Uganda, Taiwan, the Philippines and Southwest Pennsylvania. Several bishops came up to me afterwards and expressed interest, so we may have some allies going forward.  The morning ended with another closed session.

After lunch, I headed to the Palace Museum, where there was a special exhibition of works by one of the great Masters of the Ming Dynasty, Tang Yin. I have wanted to see the National Palace collection for forty years, since I first took a course in Chines painting in college to fill an elective requirement; my teacher was the great Richard Barnhart, and after two weeks I was hooked. The museum in Taipei includes everything that was in the former Imperial household, the Forbidden City. Just before Beijing fell to the communists, the entire collection was trucked to the coast and put on barges bound for Taiwan. I’ll have more to say, perhaps, about the afternoon: let it be enough at the moment to say that this was definitely worth putting on the bucket list.

The evening was taken up with a magnificent banquet, at which we gave great thanks for our hosts. I did not know what to expect when I came to Taiwan, but I am convinced the Church here has much to teach us. It is hugely encouraging to see what can happen when small congregations believe God will provide and that He has sent them to do His work in the world.  I see so much of the same work beginning in Pittsburgh. I believe we can expect a similar harvest if we are as faithful.

Marduk? No.

The Buddha? uh-uh.

The Really Scruffy Immortal Who Is Always Portrayed Picking His Nose? Nope.

It’s … Hello Kitty!

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Seriously, people: this is my gate. C3. Taipei to Manila. Most of us are grownups here, ok? And there is something so very sad about a group of distinguished bishops from Latin America, dressed in purple clericals and grey suits, sitting in a bank of pink airport chairs with little kitty motifs everywhere. Can we have some respect, please?

It’s just not right. There is not a decent cup of coffee for miles, but Hello Kitty? Hello Kitty is EVERYWHERE. Hello Kitty check-in kiosks. Hello Kitty toilets. Hello Kitty stores full of Hello Kitty bling and Hello Kitty swag.

We can, however, rest in the assurance– recently given by the CEO of Hello Kitty as the company celebrates its fortieth anniversary– that Hello Kitty is, in fact, not a cat. No, she’s not. She’s a cartoon character, ok? Presumably, so you can buy without fear of allergens. And it must be true. Because I am not alergic to cats. But I am to Hello Kitty. So, there you have it.

There is no other door. Soon they will announce my flight and I will have to pass through the portals of Hello Kitty.

Abandon all hope.

So, I am just going to have to start a rival brand: Hello Jesus. It’s going to be good. It’s already proven very helpful to millions over two thousand years. And no one ever needs to feel embarrassed to sit with Him.

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HOB Class of 2012 and Best Friends

My Class Dinner Friday: A Few of the Bishops, spouses and hosts

Saturday morning, and I am drained.  And maybe a little stir-crazy.  Hotels are not my preferred venue.  They always make me feel a little trapped, even a nice one (and the Grand is very nice). Friday night we had dinner together (all the bishops of my class along with available spouses) in this great little restaurant run by a real character, and that helped; but with news of the typhoon coming, I am ready to get out into the open air.

We board the buses and head to Yilan, the site of the Cultural Heritage Center.  I have no idea what to expect, but the weather is bright and sunny.  I’m getting used to the heat.  When we get there, Kirk Smith, the Bishop of Arizona (who else?) offers me sunscreen, which I am grateful for, and off we go through the gates.

The campus looks like a combination of a community college with a piece of Disney World dropped in.  There is a “traditional” Taiwanese street with crafts shops on both sides, leading to a broad plaza, which in turn leads to a cultural museum, a theater, a library and other facilities. The place is made for casual wandering around, marked by a few scheduled events.

So that is pretty much what we do: wander around.  I browse a little in all the shops.  Betsy has sent me on a mission for a Chinese jacket, but nothing comes close to what I know she would like.  I go into the Cultural Museum where there is an exhibition of metalwork from three families who are traditional smiths, including a collection of traditional headdresses which are gorgeous, and a series of silver statues representing the Eight Immortals (just google it: I didn’t know who they were either), that are so brilliant I am strongly tempted to break the NO PHOTOGRAPHY rule shouting at me from signs every five feet (Headline in the Taipei Times: “American Bishop Arrested for Public Disrespect”).  Afterwards I catch, and manage to video, a great drum show by a group of young percussionists, and people who see me with a video rig, gently tap me on the shoulder and offer me their seats so I can get closer (honestly, these people are almost as kind as Pittsburghers!).

No sooner do I head back into the main street when I run into a crowd lining both sides. Something is up: a parade, I think.  Actually it’s a lot more.  There is a huge commotion as an actor dressed as a magistrate complete with judges table on a wheeled platform, announces what is obviously the prologue to a play.  And the drama is enacted over the next half-hour up and down the street.  It’s a lot of fun:  over-the-top western style melodrama meets traditional Chinese dance and acrobatics.

The cast are all young.  In my checkered past, I once had a job like this.  I worked as an actor for the Great American Melodrama and Vaudeville Theatre in Oceano, California: forty bucks a week plus housing.  (Since there wasn’t a whole lot to do in Oceano, I actually saved money). We put on a 19th century melodrama, followed by a vaudeville show, and we waited tables during the intermission, bringing customers hot dogs, sodas and beer.

The Heroine Saved!

But you wouldn’t have needed this skilled professional background to recognize the characters:  young man comes from the country to the city, sees beautiful princess from afar, corrupt Snidely Whiplash-type police inspector (interesting: remember it’s China) kidnaps girl, mysterious hero drops out of the sky to rescue her (lots of pretty cool swinging around on cables and rooftops here). Hero is tricked, captured, put into a torture-box and magically disappears. He falls in love too, but realizes the girl’s heart is with the weedy young guy who can’t seem to do anything but get into trouble; hero rescues maiden; police inspector cries, Curses! Foiled Again! Lots of dancing and singing as Happy Couple goes off into Looming Typhoon (sometimes reality gets in the way of art).

It’s all great fun, we have a wonderful lunch, and get back on the buses.  By the time we get back to the hotel, I’d really like a nap, but instead I change into a collar and head to the Church of the Good Shepherd with it’s rector, Lily Chang, to meet with a group of young people for Bible Study.

I had arranged in advance to participate in two Bible Studies in Taiwan.  This is part of an initiative begun by the Archbishop of Canterbury a few years ago, called The Bible in the Life of the Church.  There are three goals: Goal One is to help people across the Church become deeply and prayerfully formed in the Scriptures. Goal Two is to see how different people in the various parts of the Anglican Communion actually live with and under the Word of God: how do they read texts, what lessons do they draw, how does the Word dwell with them?   Goal Three is to connect these people across barriers of geography and culture, so that their readings can inform each other and they might gain an appreciation for the breadth of the Body of Christ.   So, I am toting a video rig across half the world, sitting with women in East Africa, young adults in Taiwan, students in Manila and farmers in Capul in the Philippines, and finally bringing it all back home to Pittsburgh, where we will join this global community of study.  To keep the focus, we are working on one text across all these places:  the Parable of the Sower and the Seed in Mark 4: 1-20, and if you don’t know it well, I’d suggest you take a couple of minutes to read it now!

Goal One is to help people across the Church become deeply and prayerfully formed in the Scriptures. As Lily drives me to the Church, she tells me a little of its story.  She has been rector there 11 years.  The parish is approaching its fiftieth anniversary.  Two services are offered every Sunday, one in Mandarin and one in English.  The Vestry is bilingual.  The average Sunday attendance is about 100.  They run a kindergarten for 140 kids, and are planting a church in Chung Li that already has about twenty members.  During the summers, they have a camp for youth.  The first year it drew thirty-five, seventy in 2013, and 150 this year.   I ask her how they figured out what this would look like, and she laughs. “We have no idea,” she says. “We just do it!”  (Note to self: trust God).

The Sower and the Seed with Young Adults at Good Shepherd

It is a wonderful hour and a half.  (I am always so invigorated by teaching and studying Scripture).  After a prayer we go around the room and read the passage aloud a verse at a time, first in English, then in Chinese.  I give a summary, then I divide the class into three groups of four, and give each an assignment: one groups takes the hard ground, the second stony ground, the third thorny ground.  My question:  where are these things in your life? what is the hard ground that keeps you from hearing the Word, the stones that you fear, the thorns that oppress, lure or distract you? They get ten minutes.  Their conversation is vigorous.  When they come back we spend the rest of the time comparing notes.  Two things stand out.

First, the thorns:  there is huge pressure on young people in Taiwan to succeed, to make money, to have status.  Their professional lives are very busy and compete with everything else. The question of what God wants them to do, how he wants them to live, often gets shoved into the background by the sheer forces of worldly life.

Second, the stones:  if young people contemplate becoming Christian, and this becomes known to their non-Christian parents, the first thing they get hit with is the Confucian charge of abandoning filial piety.  As Bishop David told us, the absolute duty of adult children is to make sure their parents are cared for in the afterlife, notably by bringing food offerings for them once a month.  Christians, of course, do not practice this, not because Christians hate their parents, but because they believe it crosses the line between veneration and idolatry.  This perception gives Christian young people a stigma in the eyes of many of their peers.

I am fascinated by the difference between these two problems.  The first complaint you could hear coming from young Christians in any affluent and ambitious environment: from Mount Lebanon to the North Hills to New York City.  The second complaint is specifically Chinese and has been the same since Fr. Mateo Ricci first brought the Gospel five hundred years ago!  When we turn to the question of what makes up the good soil, we come up with various answers: prayer, grace, the Church.  It is clear these folks know they can’t produce fruit on their own. Remember, says one, the point of the story is that God is doing it, not us.  I think of Saint Paul’s clarity in 1 Corinthians: I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.  After a little more prayer and — you guessed it– a group photo, Lily drives me back to the hotel.

Night Market Taipei

I change and have a quick dinner and am just in time for the last outing of the day: the Night Market in Taipei.  There is a huge crowd of bishops and spouses headed out for this one– three buses full– and the young people of the diocese are our chaperones.  They couldn’t be kinder. I’m in a group with a two other bishops, and Daisy, one of my young students from Good Shepherd, is our main guide.

Boy, do we need her!  The buses let us out at the fringes of the market and we wade in.  It is vibrant, crowded, noisy, packed with food stalls, shops of all kinds, selling mainly consumer goods, not touristy things– clothing, shoes, cosmetics.

The Temple in the Market

Retail in Taiwan is energy-intensive: every shop has a hawker standing outside, some with bullhorns, competing for the attention of the crowds.  We stroll around for forty-five minutes or so when Daisy runs into a friend.  Have you shown them the Temple?  he asks.  So we head down another labyrinth of streets to what turns out to be the center of the neighborhood: the Temple of the Sea Goddess.

Night Market: Praying to the Goddess

The contrast is jaw-dropping.  This ancient structure, founded in 1796, was built when there was nothing here, and the market grew up around it over the next two hundred years.  The courtyard is packed with people sitting or standing, mainly taking a break from the crush in the streets, many of them having a quick dinner.  Inside the statues of the gods, the carved stone and painted wood, take us back centuries.  Some of it is very beautiful, but you can also see the total trap of this kind of worship, the slavery under the beauty:  offerings are made, then lots are thrown to see what the future might hold.  It feels to me like a combination of a casino and a bribery center, cajoling the spirits to get them to do what you want, and banking on an auspicious twist of fate.

Lots to be Cast: Does the Goddess say yes or no?

If there is any clearer expression of the cultures need for the Gospel, I don’t know it.

When I get back to the hotel, though, and look over the day, I wonder how different we really are from this in Pittsburgh.  There are people around us every day who gave up on God a long time ago, but when something bad happens, try bargaining with God.  We ourselves are torn by thorns and hurt by stones and manufacture all kinds of hard ground to get away from the Gospel.  And we keep getting confronted with a choice:  do we want to live a life that is not much more than our own personal melodrama– peopled with out own heroes and villains, under the control of some fantasy we are hoping for, a life lived in a shadow street, a poor replica of the abundant Life God offers– or do we want the real thing, the fulness of His Grace and mercy, the lush grain that pushes through the hard and stony and thorny soil bearing fruit ten- and sixty- and a hundredfold?  The answer is obvious.  As I turn out the light by my bed, I pray briefly, for Betsy and Evan, for the Diocese of Pittsburgh, for my fellow bishops, for the Church in Taiwan.  Then I hear myself saying,  I’ll take the real life, Father, please.  Amen.   And I turn out the light and go to sleep.

Theological Context and Mission Challenges in Hong Kong and Pakistan

Peter Koon and Gareth Jones

In the afternoon we heard from the Reverend Peter Koon, Principal Secretary of the Anglican Church in Hong Kong, and Dr. Gareth Jones, Principal of Ming Hua Seminary, the Anglican Church’s theological college in Hong Kong. They were followed by the Most Reverend Samuel Azariah, Bishop of Raiwind and Moderator of the Church of Pakistan.

Peter was fairly brief, wanting to raise one particular challenge related to the complexities of life in “One Country with Two Systems.” That is, the Church is not used to engaging in the affairs of politics, and in this environment there is a great deal of popular controversy over Hong Kong’s future relationship with China; Peter hoped the growing relationship with the Episcopal Church would give them some guidance in connecting the Gospel to the political questions of Hong Kong’s present and future.

Gareth spoke of the challenges of training lay and clergy leadership for a Church that was changing rapidly. He acknowledged the same cultural difficulties as exist in Taiwan, the context of Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism, but also pointed out that Chinese Christians have a different way of looking at the Bible than the West. He drew a comparison with an African reading of the Adam and Eve story, in which the main focus is not on the problem of good and evil, but rather on the sin of breaking fellowship. According to this reading, God made Adam and Eve to be in communion with him; when God walks in the garden “in the cool of the day” He is expecting the companionship of His human creatures, but instead they hide themselves. So the dominant question is not the second question God asks (2:11), “Who told you that you were naked?” but rather the first question (2:9) “Where are you?”

At Ming Hua, the model for the school is the original companionship of the Garden, between God and man, and among human beings; the crises of our faith originate in two gardens, Eden and Gethsemane, in which God experiences the abandonment of His creatures, from the point of view of the Father and the Son. We receive mercy and healing in the community of the Church.

This means that formation is an intensive experience of community; students begin every day with communal Bible study, then move to academic classes, then to Morning Prayer which is the “hinge” of the day. This is followed by lunch with the principal. The afternoon is reflection on “priestcraft” mission and liturgy. The emphasis throughout is on training Anglican Catholic clergy, not generic Christian pastors with an Anglican veneer., continually asking the question, What does it mean to be Catholic and Reformed? There is an emerging emphasis on training lay leadership in the same context, together with the ordinands.

Bishop Azariah

Bishop Azariah spoke of the challenge for mission in Pakistan, the third largest Muslim state in the world, 189 million people of whom 1.5% are Christian, in a country the size of the state of California. Radical Islam is gaining ground, “a religion looking for a state.” The Anglican presence in Pakistan is isolated from the rest of the Anglican Church, having not had a substantial relationship with the global Communion for many years, but they are now seeking partnerships. They need to learn the skills of development that the Western Churches appear to have. Co-operation with other churches within Pakistan is constantly hampered by mutual mistrust.

The most striking thing about Bishop Azariah’s presentation was the clear danger his people face every day simply living out their faith. They are coming up on the anniversary of the church bombing in Peshawar, in which 175 people, mainly mothers and children, were killed by a suicide bomber. He will visit the church on that day. When asked how he does it, he simply smiled and says, “Well, that is our Cross; so we pick it up and walk. The question you must ask is, What is yours?”

Lessons for your Bishop:

There were two kinds of passion going on here today: one was the thoughtful academic strategy of Gareth, committed to training leadership for the Gospel; the other was the heartfelt commitment of missionaries in the field, facing humiliation, rejection, and even death, for the sake of the Gospel. I am especially struck by the missionary approach I see in all the clergy here, embodied in Bishop David Lai: their outreach is broad, they welcome everyone into their ministries, their kindergartens, their schools. They are the most consistently loving extended community of Christians and Christian leaders I have ever seen; and at the same time, they are absolutely clear on the Gospel of Grace— what it is, what it isn’t, how it challenges the world around them— above all the importance of what Christ has to offer, nothing less than new life in a context soaked in the fear of death. This combination of passion and love, gentleness and clarity for the sake of Jesus, is one thing that I have been deeply inspired by in this day, as well as throughout my visit so far.

The second lesson would be the importance of Biblical formation of all clergy and lay leadership. It is clear to me this is different than mere Biblical literacy. I am reminded of Paul’s beautiful charge in Colossians 3:16, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom.” What would it mean for us in Pittsburgh to make this commitment of Biblical formation, across the board, in ever parish, for our lay leaders and clergy, for all of us, to be in deep and regular study, soaking in the word of God that it might dwell in us richly?

I think these two lessons are intimately related. In fact, I don’t think we can approach the goals I hope for without them— the goals of a truly public Gospel, deeply missional communities, and thriving leadership formation. What would our lives and mission look like, in Pittsburgh, if we let this godly gentleness, passion, clarity, care for one another and the world, and the indwelling of the Word, really take possession of our minds and hearts? I think this is something God would really like us to find out!

September 19, 2014

Grand Hotel seen from Yuanshan Park

Traditional dancer practicing

Trail in Yuanshan

The days start early, around here. I am up at 5:00 or 5:30; I pray, answer e-mail and update my blog. Then I put on running shoes and head out the door. Literally at my threshold is a connector to the Yuanshan Scenic Area, an urban park that is latticed with paved trails and stairways, winding up through the hills, past a Buddhist temple and (eventually) an observation platform that overlooks Taipei. You could wander through this for a couple of days and not repeat your steps. I go past groups of locals — walking, doing Tai Chi, practicing traditional dance, playing badminton, even singing some hearty karaoke. To the overlook and back, it’s about forty minutes.

Today, after breakfast, there is Eucharist — the Gospel text being the story of Jesus in the boat calming the waters of the storm for his terrified disciples. One of our chaplains, the Reverend Simon Batista, told his own story of surviving a terrible hurricane with his family at home in Haiti, holding onto each other even as the metal sheets of their roof disappeared one by one. His question at the end is one that I will walk with for a long time, a good one for us all: “Bishops: what do you do in the storms [that shake your lives and the lives of your people]? Are you making of each one a story to be written in the Book of Faith?”

This could be the theme for the day, as we listen, through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, to presentations on Theological Contexts and Mission Challenges in three very different arenas: Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Pakistan.

Bishop David Lai

The first came from our host, Bishop David Lai of Taiwan. Christian mission here faces enormous obstacles at the outset due to the mere facts of history. The Episcopal Church here was founded in 1954 in response to requests from American GI’s for pastoral ministry while they were stationed in Taiwan following WWII and the Communist revolution on the mainland. Though the Church was seen initially as an American enterprise, the missionary bishop, Bishop Kennedy of Hawaii, immediately began recruiting indigenous clergy. By 1965, there was a Chinese bishop for the diocese, James Wong, who is still remembered and greatly venerated. He is buried in the Church of the Advent near Saint John’s University (remember this!).

If the Episcopal Church here was seen as an instrument of the West, it also inherited the baggage of centuries of missionary blunders. From previous study, I knew that Christianity had a promising start in China when the Jesuit missionary, Mateo Ricci, came to China as a guest of the imperial court in the 16th century. He lived there for years, Continue reading →

September 18, 2014

Saint James Church in Taichung

This day is a set of mission field trips. I signed up for the one to Saint James Church in Taichung. To understand what a remarkable place this is, a little context helps.

Christians here are a minority, about 10% of the total population, or roughly 23,000. Of that number, roughly 2,000 are Episcopalians. Their outsized influence on the life of the nation, I think, is a work of the Holy Spirit and comes from their understanding their unique gifts in education and focusing on that charism. Particularly, Episcopal Churches are often formed around kindergartens. (Maybe this explains why we are meeting so many young clergy!) These have a Christian focus, but they are also open to anyone. The neighborhoods are deeply appreciative of this gift, so the Church enjoys a reputation that gives it access to other areas of life. I have to say it is hugely refreshing to be in a context in which non-Christians generally think very highly of the Church.

Bishops on the bullet train

We take the bullet train 120 miles to Taichung (it takes 50 minutes; why can’t the US come up with anything like this?) and a bus to the church. It is planted in the middle of a busy mixed urban neighborhood, rising more like a skyscraper than what we might think of as traditional church architecture. We are ushered through the front gate and into a courtyard where we are greeted by a mob of little ones who hand out prayers and greetings written in crayon. We take them gratefully and allow ourselves to be arranged into another group photo. (Have I mentioned they do lot of group photos here?)

“This little light of mine…”

After listening to three kindergarten songs, including the absolutely cutest rendition ever of “This Little Light of Mine”, we are given a tour of the facilities — all seven floors, including the school, the sanctuary, conference and education rooms, and so on, but it is the school that stands out, as though the church were built around the mission, rather than the mission crammed into the church. The rooms are light and airy, the playgrounds extensive and well-equipped, arts and language facilities, live rabbits and a butterfly habitat. (A kindergarten with a butterfly habitat? Makes me want to be five again.) The whole atmosphere is one of warmth and love, coupled with a kind of brisk energy.

We hear a lot from the present rector, Philip Lin (who looks barely 30), and the rector emeritus, Charles Chen. Here is some of what we learned:

Hey, who is that guy?

The church has an average Sunday attendance of 80 at the Chinese service and 30 at the English one. The congregation has grown through their emphasis on cell groups (they have four), but also because they focus on evangelism, counseling, continuing education for young adults in everything from flower arranging to music to soccer — programs that connect with over 200 adults a week. They also run an after-school language and arts institute for about 100 kids and 40 adults. They founded their preschool in 1974, and it now has 340 kids ages three to six. Everything they do is informed by Bible study and prayer. Continue reading →

September 17, 2014

The flight from Tokyo was the last leg in over 20 hours of travel, and by the time we got to the Grand Hotel in Taipei last night, it was actually nearing midnight. In spite of the myriad connections, and the vagaries of dozens of diocesan calendars, by 10 in the morning on Wednesday, we had practically a full House of Bishops. We celebrated a wonderful Eucharist, received enthusiastic greetings from Bishop David Lai, and then were directed outside to the old gates of this magnificent place for a group photo.

That’s when it hit us how hot it was.

Bishops at the Grand Hotel in Taipei

No, I mean hot. As in, Texas hot. I remember working one summer on a quarter-horse ranch 75 miles southwest of San Antonio, and I have never been as hot before or since, until now. And when you put more than a hundred bishops in dark suits then stick them in the sun — well, it was a spiritual exercise, let’s just put it that way. The one in the picture in beige linen, that’s me. Thank God I brought it!

So we had four group photos: one of all the bishops, one of bishops and spouses, one of spouses only, and then one indoors with bishops, spouses, staff, volunteers, and Taiwanese hosts. We will learn that group photos are a popular feature of life here.

The afternoon session was brief, just checking in with our table-mates, getting caught up on news of our respective dioceses and families. I did change into a black suit for the reception, particularly in view of our special guest.

We knew this was going to be a big deal when our afternoon session ended and the room was suddenly flooded with serious young men in skinny ties and earphones: the Taiwanese version of the Secret Service. There must have been 70 of them, looking for whatever it is that a security detail looks for, so we knew the President of the Republic of China was indeed coming.

+Katharine praying for President Ma with Bp Lai

When we returned at five and assembled for the reception, we did not have long to wait.

President Ma came in with his entourage, worked the room a little, and went to the dais where he was greeted by our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori and Bishop Lai. There were a few introductions, an address from a distinguished professor at Saint John’s University, +Katharine spoke briefly, and then the President gave his speech.

President Ma addressing the bishops

It was really remarkable. Like many Taiwanese, he had obviously studied in the US at some point in his life. His English is very good, but apart from that, he did not resemble most of our politicians. He was humble, thankful, and reflective. He noted this was a historic visit, coming on the 60th anniversary of the Episcopal Church in Taiwan. He then said that the Episcopal Church here had had a huge role in the building of the nation, particularly in laying the foundations for the national education system and through the influence of Saint John’s University, an Episcopal school nearby. He observed that the influence had spread to Taiwanese culture as well, that the country had begun very beleaguered and poor, and had been greatly helped in its early years by the United States; but now that it was rich, it had profited by the moral leadership of the Church, who had by its example taught people to love their neighbor as themselves. He concluded by pointing to the huge contribution in aid given to Haiti and to the Philippines following catastrophic natural events, and said that one of the goals of his administration was to see Taiwan become more and more “an exporter of compassion.”

There were a few other remarks, and then the PB prayed for the president and the country. I was surprised by how moving I found the whole evening.

And I was also really glad to be in bed by 8:00!