Looking To The Future: Embracing Our Diversity Under The Banner
of Christ
First of all I want to say how honoured I am to be the speaker for this
wonderful service in celebration of black heritage. You have given me quite a privilege
and I am delighted to be here.
I know that it would be presumptuous of me to try and speak to
anyone's experience of life in the black community. In fact, I stand here in this
pulpit as a leader of an institution, and as a member of a race, and as part of a culture,
all of which have not been as understanding or appreciative of black heritage as we should
have been.
For that reason I know it would not be appropriate for me to assume
that I could preach about life as a black per-son in the Diocese of Toronto. Instead I
trust the perceptions that I hear, and let me assure you, I have staff and priests who do
a very fine job of challenging me and keeping me on my toes when they feel I am not seeing
issues as clearly as I should. I am grateful to them for that.
If you happened to visit me in my office, you would see a couple of
long, narrow photographs hanging on the wall. Now you may not think this is so interesting
when I tell you they are pictures of the 500 Anglican bishops from around the world who
gather in England every 10 years at what is called the Lambeth Conference.
But the way the colour changes in these pictures is important. I do not
have a photo of the 1978 gathering, but I have seen prints, and there one sees a group of
mostly white men looking rather bored and stiff. But, 10 years later, in l988, you notice
quite a difference: over half of these male bishops are not white.
By another 10 years, in 1998, the photo shows that a vast majority of
the faces are people of colour, and it is very clear that the Anglican Communion is no
longer a white Anglo-Saxon stronghold. In fact there are even 10 brave women bishops in
the 1998 picture.
But yet, even with all this photo-graphic evidence of the changing face
of Anglicanism, the bishops of the church in England still think they are the ones who are
the arbiters of the Anglican ethos. As a bishop from North America, I feel we are often
looked on as colonial misfits by the English. There is a sense that we Canadian bishops
are just not in the same fold.
I find it upsetting at times but I wonder if this feeling is, in a very
small way, a reflection of what I hear from the black community when they participate in
Anglican churches here in Toronto….that subtle sense of somehow being 'the
other,' 'the visitor,' the one who is both inside and outside at the same
time.
That is what I hear from the various cultural communities who
participate in parish churches where the dominant culture is in the majority. There is
often a subtle, careless feeling of separateness.
We are a very multi-cultural diocese and our churches reflect the
diversity of our communities. This is something wonderful about being a bishop in Toronto
– the richness of music and prayer and spirituality is something to be celebrated
– but it grieves me that we do not integrate these gifts into the way we work and
think and worship and live together in community.
In my charge to Synod a couple of years ago, I said, 'Our mission
statement places great emphasis on being an inclusive diocese, but I doubt we are
pre-pared to break out of our comfort zone to truly reflect our diversity in the ways we
work.
Being an inclusive community is actually a faith and justice issue, and
like all faith and justice issues it involves being prepared to be changed, to be
converted to new ways of working.'
I want to use this time tonight to talk about how we could be moving
forward together towards what is often called racial reconciliation.
I remember that when I first became bishop, a man from the West Indies
told me that people were quite friendly and welcoming at his suburban church on a Sunday
morning, but did not recognize him on the street or in a neighbourhood restaurant the next
day. It was as if he had not registered as a real person with a life outside the pew.
There was no effort to see him as a gifted individual rather than another anonymous black
face outside the church.
He said he didn't feel it was a conscious racism he experienced so
much as racism from 'benign neglect.' He didn't feel that he was disliked
or unwanted, just not a significant part of parish life. My heart ached to hear such a
story.
I saw this man again a couple of years ago and asked him how he was
experiencing parish life these days. He felt there had been some major improvements. It
had taken a few years but he had hung in there; he and his family were comfortable in the
parish family now. They had good friends from the church who were part of their social
life both inside and outside parish life. They felt appreciated and valued.
I asked him what had made the difference. Was it his own determination
not to let himself be invisible or did something else happen? He said he thinks the Spirit
pushed him to go out to an evening discussion group one Lent, and in his small group he
was surprised to hear himself start to talk with some emotion about how he felt sidelined
in the parish family.
At first the others in the group were surprised and quickly denied this
was so. But then one wise soul said that it was crucial not to dismiss his story. The
important thing was to accept and trust his perceptions. And they did. They listened and
heard and church life started to change.
I think this is one very important way forward: the restorative,
life-giving power of story-telling. A couple of weeks ago, Archbishop Desmond Tutu was
speaking at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Mass. and reflecting on the
healing strength of truth-telling that he witnessed as head of the South African Truth and
Reconciliation Commission which dealt with the horrors of apartheid.
He said, 'I don't know why we should be surprised at the
healing potency of story-telling. After all, as people of faith we belong in a
story-telling community. We have been integrated into a community that tells the story of
a God who brought a rabble of slaves out of bondage and led them through the desert into
the Promised Land. We continue the saga in the story of a young man who died on a cross
... and we have been telling this story and its sequel ever since.'
We need more opportunities in our diocese for people of all races and
cultures – Asian, African, Anglo-Saxon, Caribbean, Filipino, Tamil, European and
Aboriginal – to tell their stories in mixed groups. It is in knowing who we are and
where we have come from that not only gives us a sense of identity within a group, but
often brings healing when it is shared with those who have hurt us. Those defining moments
of our lives, both painful and joyous, can be offered to God and to each other if the
church provides a safe place for truth-telling.
But storytelling is only effective if someone is listening, and
sometimes it takes courage to listen. Like the people in my friend's small group, the
dominant culture, no matter who that is, can be dismissive or annoyed if someone raises
issues of racism. Denial is a gut reaction, but there must be courageous listening by all,
no matter how painful.
But all of this will be for naught if the dialogue does not result in
change in how we care for each other and work together cross-culturally as Christian
brothers and sisters.
For me as your bishop it is important that we intentionally seek out
able men and women and youth who reflect our cultural diversity and encourage them to take
on leadership roles in this diocese. We must work together to ensure that people feel
comfortable and valued as part of decision-making bodies where shared responsibilities are
carried out with commitment and diligence. It is not something we have done well in the
past and I need you to help me with that.
When I am chairing our Synod meetings, I look out over the crowds and I
am distressed by how pale we are. It is not a healthy picture. We must have more
representation from the black laity and other cultures at all levels of our parish and
diocesan structures.
Then there is also the question of clergy. I want to encourage young
people from the black and multi-cultural community to consider offering themselves for
ordained ministry. Think about it. God may be calling you to this vocation.
We are blessed with fine clergy from various racial and cultural
groups. They come from a deep Anglican tradition that is knowledgeable and committed.
Understandably, they have tended in the past to lead parishes that reflect their own
cultural background.
This is a very narrow approach to life in this diocese, but I am glad
to say that this is changing. There are fine priests from the multi-cultural community in
charge of parishes of the dominant culture. I am proud of the clergy in my diocese; they
have so much to bring to the wider life of our diocese and the national church, including
the House of Bishops.
In that speech that I mentioned earlier that Archbishop Tutu gave
recently, he said, 'Racism is the ultimate blasphemy because it could make a child of
God doubt that she or he is a child of God.'
But then he went on to say that, through the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission, he concluded that, 'Without forgiveness there is no future'.
I remember Desmond when he arrived at the 1988 Lambeth conference and
he was welcomed to that gathering of bishops as a hero. In those days apartheid still had
a stranglehold on South Africa and Desmond was speaking out courageously against the evil
that permeated his country.
He was a delight to be with, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, a
wonderful chortling laugh, but above all I remember him for the way he expressed his
faith. We learned so much from him.
One night when he was in charge of a prayer vigil, his role was not to
harangue us or lecture us but to pray with us. He used at least three different languages
during the service: English, Xhosa (the click tongue which I think is his tribal
language), and surprisingly, Afrikaans, the language of the brutal regime that supported
apartheid.
It was highly significant to me that at the most spiritual part of the
prayers, he switched to Afrikaans for the blessing of the bread and wine. I asked him
about this later: how could he use the language of his persecutors at such a vital,
sacramental moment in the service? He explained we must never forget that they too are
God's children. When we forget that we will have lost our under-standing of God.
This was a transforming moment for me. It helped me understand that,
yes, we are all made in the image of God, even though that image is sometimes terribly
hidden. We must always be trying to draw forth that child of God which is inside every one
of us.
I am always intrigued by the way Archbishop Tutu stresses the issue of
forgiveness. 'There is no future without forgiveness,' he says. I want to take a
minute to think about that but it is uncomfortable for me, a person from the dominant
majority, to talk to you about the benefits of forgiveness. I can ask for your forgiveness
for any racism you have suffered in the church in Toronto, but do I have any right to tell
you that it is a good thing for you to forgive? Perhaps I can just offer a couple of
stories for you to think about.
During the last Lambeth Conference, one of the most moving
presentations was by a priest whose father had been Bishop of Singapore during the Second
World War. The bishop was captured, tortured and beaten day after day, a universal story
of wartime.
When he asked himself how he could love these men who were enjoying the
pain they inflicted, he realized that as he prayed he had a picture of them as they might
have been as little children. Suddenly he had a vision of those men, not as they were, but
as they were capable of becoming, transformed by the love of Christ. At that moment he
experienced the grace of forgiveness.
The priest said, 'My father's experience was a
transfiguration story, not just for himself but also for his captors.' After the war
he returned to Singapore and had the great joy of confirming one of his torturers. The one
who had stood with a rope in his hand was allowed to walk from the prison up to the
cathedral, a man now of peace and gentleness, ready to be confirmed as a follower of
Christ before returning to jail. Both giving and receiving forgiveness is truly a
transforming experience.
The other story revolves around my visit to Robben Island, the remote
place where Nelson Mandela spent 28 years of his life, imprisoned for crimes against the
racist government of South Africa. Here in a cramped, austere cell, he paid the price for
being an outspoken activist against the evils and injustice of apartheid.
The prison is now a museum, and my guide, David Matandi, was himself a
former prisoner for 16 years. During the struggle, he had been a freedom fighter in the
military wing of the ANC, but now he took groups through the former prison and tried to
redeem something from his past for the future.
Most of my group was made up of European university students and I
doubt any of us shall forget David's words that day. He talked to us about the
miracle of the growing community that lives on the island. Here former guards and wardens
and prisoners now meet together regularly. They work together and live side by side in the
community without animosity.
He said that once freedom came, they realized they could not carry the
burden of hatred from the past. 'If we were going to build a new future,' he
said, 'we knew we would have to find a way to let go of the anger and the pain and
forgive each other.' Of course, they still feel grudges and hurts, but they have to
work it out, or, as David said, 'It would cripple our new lives, we would just be
hurting ourselves.'
It was a powerful message, strongly stated, and those students and I
shall hear it ringing in our ears for a long time to come.
I believe God, in our Gospel story today, is calling us through
different customs and heritages to grow in our understanding of one another and to
discover our oneness in Jesus Christ.
My brothers and sisters in Christ, I am very sorry for any racism or
wrongs you have suffered in the Diocese of Toronto. I pray that we can move forward with
the healing of story-telling, the courage of real listening and the transforming gift of
forgiveness and reconciliation, so that we may, in our time, live out God's truth,
justice and compassion in a broken world.
God bless us and all those whom we love and serve this day and
forevermore. Amen.
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Planning Committee from left: Anthony Baker, Felicia Holder, Sandra Baker, Fr. Stephen
Fields, Winston Holder, Joan Howard, Fr. Peter Fenty (Co-chair), Basil Liburd, Deacon
Aldith Baker (Co-chair), Ianthe Alleyne, Fr. Lance Dixon, Fr. Vernon LaFleur and Carl
Thompson. Absent is Jean Enoch
Choir Director - Arlene August leading a Sing-a-long before the service
The Rev'd. Dr. Barry Parker, Rector of St. Paul's, Bloor Street
The Phil Farrell Jazz Trio
Joy Lapps - Steel Panist
Black History Ecumenical Choir
Images of the congregation during the
2002 Black History Celebration
Thurifer & Boat Girl leading the procession
Thurifer & Boat Girl at conclusion of celebration
Conclusion of Celebration
