The Bishop's Address at the 2005 Convention

100th Convention of the Diocese of Utah
October 14-15, 2005

Prayer: Gracious God, we give you thanks for the privilege of serving your mission in this world, through the example of your son, Jesus Christ, and the guidance of your Holy Spirit. Help us, in response,

• to offer a faithful and abiding witness to his risen life,
• to live boldly into the challenges and opportunities of the gospel,
• and to encourage all members of this Diocese to take their part. In your Holy Name we pray, AMEN.

I. It is again my great privilege to welcome all of you, this time, to what we think is the 100th Convention of the Diocese of Utah! The truth is we don't know exactly when our conventions began, but by the numbering we now use, this is number 100. As the 10th bishop of this Diocese, it occurs to me that I have been with you for nearly 10% of those conventions, which is quite a humbling thought!

As always, I begin by giving thanks to God for all members of this Diocese, and especially on this evening for all of you who are gathered here. Many of you have traveled far, and made sacrifices of various kinds to be here, and I am grateful to you. Our gatherings are--generally--prayerful, fun, and instructive (we hope). It is also the time when we reflect on the hopes and needs of our Diocese, and make decisions affecting our life together. It is wonderful and important that all congregations and other ministry groups are represented here.

I want to thank, as well, those who have helped to prepare for this convention: the Diocesan Staff, the Convention Planning Committee, and Karen Pena; our host parishes, Resurrection and St. Peter's and other volunteers; the Liturgy and Music Committee, our tellers, and those who will present or have filed the reports in your packets. Let us thank all of these people in the customary way. As you can see, it takes a lot of people and a lot of work for an occasion like this to come together, and we are grateful to all of you for making it happen, and in such a lovely new place.

Thanksgiving is, in any case, the best way to begin (or to end) anything--a prayer, a meeting, a day, or a convention. I remember my very first convention here, when our theme was, "...With Truly Thankful Hearts." That is a phrase from one of our Prayer Book prayers, which continues--"that we may show for thy praise not only with our lips but in our lives." Much of this convention, "Living Boldly," will be about "our lives," more than "our lips," as we seek to respond with active gratitude for the abundant blessings God has given to us.

II. It is customary on occasions such as this one, and annual meetings in parishes, to look back at where we have been, where we are now, and where we are going. In recent years I have noted in my addresses the work the Diocese has done (and is doing) to strengthen the foundations for our ministry and mission. Foundational work is ongoing, of course, but our Diocese generally is a healthier one because we have spent a lot to time and work to make:

• our financial structures transparent and to invite broader participation in the stewardship of our resources;
• our church properties safe, useful, and attractive;
• our diocesan canons up to date, well integrated, and helpful to the ways we want to work;
• our governing structures adapted to a broader base of participation. They now disperse both authority and responsibility for our life together;
• our peace and justice commission, as well as our service and advocacy groups active, effective, and visible in this very conservative state;
• and our renewed emphasis on the support of our minorities and young people.

This list could go on, but it is not just an enumeration of accomplishments. These are foundational shifts that sustain our mission and ministry in Utah. And of course, I have referred here only to what we have been about as a Diocese; many of our parishes and ministry groups have further developed their own mission statements, plans and operational structures on which to build faithful and lively communities within the Diocesan community.

However, as I have said many times before, foundations mainly support things; they are a means to stabilize what is built upon them. For the church this means grounding the work of mission and ministry.

It is my sense, and that of the Diocesan Council, that now is the time for us to focus more on the ends than the means; on the direction we are headed rather than where we have been; on our intentions, purposes, goals and hopes as a Diocese.

Moreover, we recently completed a mutual ministry review of the leadership of this Diocese, and the most important thing I learned from it is that our primary leadership bodies--Bishop and staff, Diocesan Council and Standing Committee are, together, poised for a new chapter in what we are about.

Some have called it a "change of culture." Such change is largely about our maturation, for we are in fact young as an independent Diocese. In some respects the sale of the hospital and its resulting financial resources 'grew us up' too fast, and in that way (though paradoxically) set us back. We were thrust into a wholly different context with responsibilities (as well as gifts) for which we were not really prepared.

Some of the particular shifts and changes we hope to engage in the next five years will be presented tomorrow in the Diocesan Council's "Living Boldly" plan. As the report will indicate, their work was based on data and ideas that have been expressed by our people over the last ten years. But its timeliness and our leadership's readiness for it are clearly present. So this, very briefly, is where we have come from, where we are now, and the plan will indicate where we hope to go.

III. I want to reflect with you now on the larger purpose and hope of our life together: the nature and source of all Christian mission; the context in which we participate in it's challenges and opportunities; and then some reflections on areas of our common life that will strengthen us for it.

A. I begin with a biblical and theological vision of mission. We have focused a great deal on ministry in this Diocese--who does it, why, when, how, and of course whether. Ministry is the active part of what we do as church people, whether as laity ("claiming the high calling" of baptism) or as deacons, priests, and bishops. But all ministry is responsive to Mission--otherwise we wouldn't be church. Without mission there would no overarching or under girding purpose to give meaning to who we are and what we do--to all that we do. We would not be 'church' but just be like-minded people who enjoy each other's company in nice fellowship halls where we always eat well.

As you know, the Episcopal Church has a mission; this Diocese has one; probably all of our congregations do, and maybe some of us discover that we have one too. But before and beyond any of these, God has a mission. God's mission is nothing less than the loving restoration of the whole world according to God's own vision of it, which is called 'Shalom,' or the 'Kingdom.'

The story of God's desire for this restoration--which is sometimes called redemption, re-creation, healing, reconciliation or salvation--and the human response to it--is told in scripture. It is told through mythical tales of people and families, the journeys of communities first called tribes, with their tents, tabernacles and temples, and as people remembered their ancestors, leaders, judges, kings, prophets and priests (not all of them stellar folks).

In one of the Genesis creation stories, you recall, God was filled with joy and satisfaction in all that God had made. However, in the Genesis story which follows that one (in the text, though not in its writing) it becomes apparent that something is deeply and chronically amiss in human life. Suddenly, God has to search for his firstborns, 'Where are you Adam/Eve? Why are you hiding?' Then God discovered where--and why.

And so later, in the Noah story, God came to regret that he had ever made people, for "the Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth." In the end, however, God did not destroy everything. God restored the earth, even though the chronic human tendency to estrangement, alienation and rebellion continued.

It seems that in the telling of their stories, God's people have always been aware of the wholeness God intended for them, and of the fragility and brokenness within themselves that defeat their re-creation. It seems, too, that God's people are aware of God's desire and effort to restore them to a right relationship with him. Quite tenderly, God sews garments of skin to cover Eve and Adam; powerfully, God pushes back the waters of the flood; in great hope God delivers a particular people to be his people; with extraordinary clarity, the law is given to reorder people's lives; painfully and loudly, prophets are sent to correct the ways of the people; and then, lovingly, God gives his own life in his son, Jesus, to redeem all that we suffer, for the sake of the whole world.

God's mission in Jesus Christ meant entering in to the human condition, to show us the perfected image of God in which we were all made. Through the mercy of forgiveness, present even at his crucifixion, and the grace of his risen presence, God works to restore each and all to the wholeness God intended in creating us.

Such restoration, reconciliation, salvation--can never be just about me and mine--but about us, them, all people. God's mission is costly, and is to be engaged and furthered by us thankfully. It is not just a plan of attack or a mechanism for effect, but invites a mutuality of commitment, a covenantal relationship, a way of life.

Even these few biblical and theological reflections help us to see that we are a part of something infinitely larger than ourselves, or than what we can see. For in Christ, God not only restores us, but also invites us to participate in his larger mission of restoration. It is our creation in God's image that gives dignity to human life; our participation in God's vast mission sanctifies all our labors.

The value of our being, and of our mutual engagement cannot be measured in worldly or human standards alone, for in God's eyes even the smallest expressions of fidelity are precious. Think of the widow's mite, or another woman's gesture in pouring out of oil upon the head of Jesus, or another woman who thought of herself as gathering up crumbs from the table.

Moreover, it is often in the surprising reversals and paradoxes of the gospel that we discover its very core: that the small and insignificant become large and important; that those who are last shall be first, that it is we who receive in our giving; and that it is those who are apparently unblessed who are blessed. We are not only part of something much larger than ourselves, but we are abundantly blessed in giving ourselves to God's larger mission, "beyond ourselves."

The opportunities of the gospel are ever new as we discover the authentic freedom of our redemption. Willfulness, to which we are all prone, is not freedom, but rather the capacity to say "Thy will be done," or "not my will but yours be done." This freedom is, to me, the most precious gift of life in Christ, and (like peace) it is a freedom the world cannot give.

B. And yet living into God's mission, i.e. 'becoming the gospel' in our time and place gives us mighty challenges as well. The context of our generation and our culture does not readily support a faithful way of life. Indeed, it can all too easily snare us away from it--through a 'too-muchness' that numbs our souls; the constant provision of artificial entertainment in all areas of life; and the recurring realities of anxiety, greed, haste, anger and despair. Many people see us as rich, and sometimes we think of ourselves in that way, but spiritually speaking, we pay a high price for the richness that demands more, faster, bigger, better, and sooner.

Yet by the grace of God we continue to recognize the goodness of God's mission and the gifts of the gospel in our lives--faith, hope and love, joy, freedom and peace. As we receive these gifts thankfully and live them fully--always aware that they are not rewards we earn, but encouragements to further faithfulness--we can embrace both the opportunities and challenges of the gospel, and we can live them boldly, as our diocesan mission statement proclaims.

C. Let me now turn to a few of the more pragmatic, 'on the ground' aspects of our life together that can directly enrich and sustain our "living boldly." I will name them in pairs, and you will note that in every case they are dimensions that you and/or the Council have named as critical:

• education and spiritual formation,
• communication and connection, and
• leadership and support.

Each of these elements works to encourage maturity and strength in our own lives, and in the whole community of the Diocese.

First then, Education and Spiritual Formation. This was part of our original vision statement, and it is one of the cornerstones of the five-year "Living Boldly" plan, as you will see tomorrow. It names the process of our maturing beyond what some call "a Sunday school faith" or what I call "thin soup" –a faith that does not hold up through the challenges of life.

In the traditional blessing at the end of the liturgy for Holy Eucharist, the celebrant speaks about "keeping our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of his son, Jesus Christ, our Lord." Education and spiritual formation are among the ways we do this, for they are all about our continuing growth in knowledge and love--both, because the Church is not an academic institution.

I am puzzled that Christian education seems really important to us when we think about our children, about Sunday School, youth groups, camp, and campus chaplaincy. But something funny happens when we think about life-long Christian education and formation, and this handicaps our participation in God's mission. It is only as we mature that we are able to make authentic and life-giving connections between the biblical world and our world, between ancient peoples with ourselves.

I'm not sure any of us know why education seems to become less important to us as we mature. Maybe we never liked school, maybe we don't want others to see that we don't already know everything, or maybe it just seems irrelevant-- like we already know enough to be a "good Christian." Maybe it is simply easier to engage in worship and fellowship only. Yet even though the latter are also a means to continuing formation, learning, growing--wrestling with the teachings of our faith and the big questions of life strengthens and enriches our lives, as well as our capacity for evangelism.

Take the Via Media program we first presented here last year. This program, adopted by many of our parishes (and in some case on its second run) presented an ideal setting for shared theological reflection--for thinking about things in relation to God. It was a totally different kind of classroom if you like, and an occasion for what the Episcopal Church is noted for--teaching people to think for themselves.

It was presented under the rubric of evangelism, but theological reflection is what many of us do, and should do, in many settings--as we hear sermons, as we wonder about suffering, read news stories, and try to make good decisions together. What would the Episcopal Church be like without the free exchange of thoughts and ideas, not mere opinions?

The word 'education' in any case means 'educe,' to draw out, to present material or raise questions that will draw out the thoughts of others. Last Sunday I was with some children at St. Stephen's and I was struck (again) by how readily they respond to being engaged in that way, to being asked questions and to shoot back their answers--with no self-consciousness about it. I think this kind of exchange is good for all of us, perhaps with a little guidance and discipline. That is at least what we invite in our Bible studies, our Affirmation programs, in book groups, through our Resource Center, and other such provisions.

Yet, rather few adults show up for such programs. Perhaps we are not offering the kinds of things you want – "nothing esoteric" I have heard, though I am unclear what is meant by that. Perhaps we fail to offer programs at the right times, or you don't have the time, or prefer to study only in parishes programs. Maybe it is a nuisance to drive a few miles--or perhaps it just isn't important to you.

Whatever, I hope you will communicate your thoughts about the ways the Diocese can be supportive of adult education and spiritual formation. Bishops vow to "be one with the apostles in proclaiming and interpreting the gospel;" and all of you, in your baptismal vows, promise to "continue in the apostles teaching and fellowship…" Surely those vows mean something.

And, I believe that personal growth is related to numerical growth in our faith communities. We cannot expect that others will join our church because we are nice people; we need to be interesting people, willing and able to talk about our faith and our church.

Secondly, communication and connection. This was a major part of your expressed desire when we were working on our mission and vision statements. You wanted to know 'what was going on' in the Diocese (though for the most part that seemed to be focused on Tuttle Center, which is not the Diocese!).

I think we have made great strides in this area--communicating more about the Episcopal Church, this Diocese, our various congregations, and the lives of individuals as occasionally written up in The Dialogue, or presented in the "This n' That" email. In the coming year the full minutes of Standing Committee and Diocesan Council will also be made available to all in a more direct fashion.

In fact, however, 'connection' was what you wanted most of all. Surely communication is one means to that, but so is prayer, and so are gatherings--large and small. In spite of our geographic distances, there are other ways we may connect too, but invitations and efforts have to be made to do this. It isn't helpful to just hope for it to happen. Initiatives are a shared obligation in the life of the Diocese.

Finally, a word about leadership and support. Our church is unusual in being both democratic and hierarchical, centralized and decentralized at the same time. In this system we sometimes call or elect leaders, but then resist their leadership, or generate expectations that are too large or too many--both as to initiatives and follow through. To put it bluntly, we want leadership, but we also want someone or some group to critique, to be mad at, even to sabotage.

No one and no group gets it right all the time; course corrections and refinements are always needful. One of the major challenges of healthy communities in present Episcopal polity and practice has to do with mutuality and fluidity in leadership and support. For example, I now spend far more of my time wondering how I can support the clergy and people of this Diocese than I do worrying about whether they support me as bishop.

In past years the House of Bishops just sent us leaders, missionary bishops who were understood to have great authority, often meaning power. They didn't have to work collaboratively with other leadership bodies on many issues, but pretty much made the decisions and, if anything, simply got them approved by standing committees. The authority and ministry of all the baptized would have seemed quite a foreign idea to them.

In the last thirty three years or so, this Diocese has chosen its own bishops; it has assumed other responsibilities and rights as well; and it has dispersed the authority of the bishop, for example of the 'corporate sole' in decisions about financial resources and in the creation of other leadership bodies. This process represents a sea change in our polity, and it is one we must live into with a heightened sense of responsibility and accountability.

It may be tempting to simply sit back and critique the "Living Boldly" plan created by the Diocesan Council (which I chair). "Who said we wanted this or that?" "Why didn't they mention that or this?" "How come this is just being forced upon us?" I have already heard some such objections, but I expect that, too, because it represents change--though more in its encouragement to focused efforts than in substance. In time I think all of us will embrace its challenges as we are able, and I think it will bless this Diocese for years to come when we do.

IV. So I conclude this evening with three hopes which I believe to be critical to the success of our five-year plan. The first is a spiritual hope--that all of you and all of our people will seek to "grow in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord." That is what education and spiritual formation are all about.

I realize that growth doesn't happen only through programmatic education, or in diocesan offerings, or in classes of any kind. But we cannot be all that we are meant to be--or sustain the church in the context of our present culture--unless out roots go deep and our branches high.

My second hope is 'on the ground' practical. I hope you will think about taking the initiative to communicate when you participate in interesting or helpful programs; when your church is discovering new direction and new energy; when you are reflecting on God's mission, the Bible's imperatives and the culture around us; when you discover a good book or a helpful article or sermon. Do not keep it to yourselves, but offer it to others in whatever form that might take. And remember all the other possibilities for connection, too: invite others in, visit others, join or create ministry groups, participate in regional gatherings, pray for one another.

The third hope is ecclesial: I hope you will discover and claim your part in the whole flow of leadership and support, remembering that often support is about helping to find good ways to implement, redirect or refine the leadership of others. We all need to work for the success of other's ministries, as well as our own. Leadership is not defined by roles alone; egos often get in the way--both of leadership and support; trust is essential, and therefore something to be protected; Jesus was both lamb and shepherd, and so are we all.

Thank you for your attention, and may God's blessing rest upon us, this night and always.

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