Chaplains Honored When Three Continents Meet

By Val Hymes

Continents embraced and chaplains were praised for their ministries after 9-11, in Iraq and Afghanistan and after Hurricane Katrina at a Celebration Banquet hosted by Bishop George E. Packard and his wife, Brook, and the Rev. Babs M. Meairs June 16 in Columbus.

Bishop Jenkins

The Rt. Rev. Charles E. Jenkins III, the featured speaker, described his despair for the people of his diocese and asked that the church “remain strong in New Orleans and the Gulf."

“Those who would say the Anglican Communion is in trouble should be here this evening,” said Bishop Packard. The nearly 80 guests, when challenged by Mrs. Packard, also demonstrated humor and talent by composing and singing parodies of Convention life to the tune of a western ditty.

Sharing the spotlight were the Rt. Rev. Clive Handford, Bishop of the Episcopal Church in Jerusalem and the Middle East, and Bishop of Cyprus and the Gulf; the Rt. Rev. Dr. Tom Frame, Bishop for the Australian Defence Force; and the Rt. Rev. Charles L. Keyser, fourth Bishop of the United States Armed Services, Healthcare and Prison Ministries, and their wives.

Bishop Handford

Dr. Frame

“In the early days after the initial invasion (of Iraq),” said Bishop Handford, “we were very grateful for the way the chaplains came out to serve. We value very much the Episcopal Church and Bishop George Packard.”


Australian units “were there (in Iraq and Afghanistan) from day one,” said Bishop Frame. “I appeal to you for your prayers for us, because wherever your chaplains are, you can be sure an Australian chaplain is not too far away.”


Bishop Keyser said he cannot imagine “the horrors” that young men and women see every day in the Middle East, adding, “I know George, and he has been there.” The response of our church to 9-11 and Hurricane Katrina “was absolutely incredible.”


“I've never been in a foxhole,” said Bishop Jenkins, “but when the helicopters were flying overhead, women in labor were being carried into our churches, there was no water, and families were sleeping on floors, I came close to bottom that night. I thought, ‘Who’s going to care?’


“Then along came George with his chaplains and ERD’s Robert Radke. It made me proud to be an Episcopalian. It was one of the church’s finest moments.”


Bishop Jenkins said the waters have receded but the people of his diocese are suffering from “post traumatic stress disorder … from the horrible results of the flood, of racism, social exclusivity and economic deprivation.” He said he struggles with his own “complicity in failing so miserably in that situation. Dealing with my own racism is like peeling an onion; the Lord is not through with me yet. I stand before you a repentant sinner.”

left to right Bishop Packard, Judy Allen and George Allen

“FEMA’s role is to restore the tax base; our job is to restore values. Many of us were corrupted by our values. If we do not stand for the poor, no one will. The church needs to remain strong.”

The Rev. George M. Clifford, master of ceremonies, offered a moment of silence for the late Rt. Rev. Charles L. Burgreen, third Bishop for the Armed Forces.

Honored for special achievement by Bishop Packard and the Rev. Gerald J. Blackburn were: Chaplain Peter Beckwith, Rear Admiral, USNR, ret., and his wife, Melinda, and Chaplain George C. Allen II, Brigadier General, USANG, ret., and his wife, Judy.

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Presiding Bishop-elect Katharine Jefferts Schori preached the homily at the Closing Eucharist June 21 at General Convention in Columbus, Ohio

Homily preached the General Convention's Closing Eucharist
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
The Right Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Grow in All Things into Christ
Lections for the Reign of Christ
Colossians 1:11-20
Canticle 18
John 18:33-37

This last Sunday morning I woke very early, while it was still dark. I wanted to go for a run, but I had to wait until there was enough light to see. When the dawn finally began, I ventured out. It was warm, and still, and very quiet, and the clouds were just beginning to show tinges of pink. I ran by the back of the Hyatt just as two workers were coming out one of the service doors. They were startled, I'm afraid, but I nodded at them, and they responded. I went west over the freeway, and encountered a man I'd seen here in the Convention Center. Neither of us stopped, but we did say a quiet good morning. Then I found a lovely green park, and started around it. There was a man with a reflective vest, standing in the street by some orange cones, as though he were waiting for a run or a parade to begin. I said good morning, and he responded in kind. Around the corner I came to a bleary-eyed fellow with several bags who looked like he'd just risen from sleeping rough. I said good morning to him too, but I must admit I went past him in the street instead of on the sidewalk. Then I met a rabbit hopping across the sidewalk, and though we didn't use words, one of us eyed the other with more than a bit of wariness. Around another corner, a woman was delivering Sunday papers from her car. She was wary too, and didn't get out of her car with the next paper until I was a long way past her.
Back over the freeway, and a block later, two guys seemingly on their early way to work. We nodded at each other.

As I returned to my hotel, I reflected on all those meetings. There was some degree of wariness in most of them. There were small glimpses of a reconciled world in our willingness to greet each other. But the unrealized possibility of a real relationship — whether in response of wariness, or caution, or fear — meant that we still had a very long way to go.

Can we dream of a world where all creatures, human and not, can meet each other in a stance that is not tinged with fear?

When Jesus says that his kingdom is not of this world, he is saying that his rule is not based on the ability to generate fear in his subjects. A willingness to go to the cross implies a vulnerability so radical, so fundamental, that fear has no impact or import. The love he invites us to imitate removes any possibility of reactive or violent response. King Jesus' followers don't fight back when the world threatens. Jesus calls us friends, not agents of fear.

If you and I are going to grow in all things into Christ, if we're going to grow up into the full stature of Christ, if we are going to become the blessed ones God called us to be while we were still in our mothers' wombs, our growing will need to be rooted in a soil of internal peace. We'll have to claim the confidence of souls planted in the overwhelming love of God, a love so abundant, so profligate, given with such unwillingness to count the cost, that we, too, are caught up into a similar abandonment.

That full measure of love, pressed down and overflowing, drives out our idolatrous self-interest. Because that is what fear really is — it is a reaction, an often unconscious response to something we think is so essential that it takes the place of God. "Oh, that's mine and you can't take it, because I can't live without it" — whether it's my bank account or theological framework or my sense of being in control. If you threaten my self-definition, I respond with fear. Unless, like Jesus, we
can set aside those lesser goods, unless we can make "peace through the blood of the cross."

That bloody cross brings new life into this world. Colossians calls Jesus the firstborn of all creation, the firstborn from the dead. That sweaty, bloody, tear-stained labor of the cross bears new life. Our mother Jesus gives birth to a new creation — and you and I are His children. If we're going to keep on growing into Christ-images for the world around us, we're going to have to give up fear.

What do the godly messengers say when they turn up in the Bible? "Fear not." "Don't be afraid." "God is with you." "You are God's beloved, and God is well-pleased with you."

When we know ourselves beloved of God, we can begin to respond in less fearful ways. When we know ourselves beloved, we can begin to recognize the beloved in a homeless man, or rhetorical opponent, or a child with AIDS. When we know ourselves beloved, we can even begin to see and reach beyond the defense of others.

Our invitation, both in the last work of this Convention, and as we go out into the world, is to lay down our fear and love the world. Lay down our sword and shield, and seek out the image of God's beloved in the people we find it hardest to love. Lay down our narrow self-interest, and heal the hurting and fill the hungry and set the prisoners free. Lay down our need for power and control, and bow to the image of God's beloved in the weakest, the poorest, and the most excluded. We children can continue to squabble over the inheritance. Or we can claim our name and heritage as God's beloveds and share that name, beloved, with the whole world.