Executive Council Meeting-- May 1972
Diocesan Press Service. May 31, 1972 [72062]
Babe G. Zimmerman, Editor, Churchwork Diocese of Louisiana
" The seminaries are up against the wall."
"When I was living in Appalachia, I was not a Christian."
" The Church doesn't have any educational strategy."
"I do not think this resolution will ease our problems."
When 40 members of the Executive Council of the Episcopal Church are convened to carry on business between General Conventions, a variety of issues claim their time.
Even more diverse than the topics for discussion are the expressions of opinion which clamor to be heard above the necessary but often muddy gestures to parliamentary procedure.
For instance, the above quotes came out of the May meeting of Council.
The first two quotes came from reports made to Council by "resource people " Resource people find invitations to a Council meeting, because they can give advice and information, and many times, because they have a cause to champion. Though they are not so designated, they are really "resource lobbies ".
As above, in the first case, the cause was Church ministry; in the second case, it was the Church's mission to Appalachia. Both reports asked for Council support, and both, it so happened, met with favorable reaction.
The other quotes are from Council members who were in the thick of debate over proposals, both involving education, though in separate bailiwicks.
Both statements were instrumental in affecting the types of resolutions that were born from the initial proposals.
Were the Episcopalian-in-the-pew to monitor a Council meeting, he/she would instantly note that the very heart of that auspicious body is pumped with reports and debates.
Quite honestly, the reports and debates are often tedious. In the midst of a cumbersome report on finances, a weary Bishop closes his eyes, and a hungry layman from the Southwest shrugs his shoulders in confusion.
A Council meeting can be just about as exciting as a parish vestry meeting in mid-winter doldrums.
Then again, up pops a sensitive issue, such as public school busing, and the Bishop opens his eyes, the layman forgets his hunger pains, and the heart begins to pump!
Presiding Bishop John E. Hines is confronted with a forest of hands, all wanting to speak and twist the content of a resolution to suit their beliefs.
Sometimes their suggestions are trivial; sometimes meaningful; and some meet with impassioned retorts from other members. Often one hears a member begin his plea with the phrase:
"Now in my diocese . . . "
Each Council member brings his/her own cultural background, Church experiences and vested interests to bear. It is supposed to resemble the democratic process, and it often does.
No doubt, the Council is often unrepresentative of the Episcopalian-in-the-pew, who if he is still monitoring the meeting, might be aghast at the lack of support for his point of view.
The May meeting of Council was in large part devoted to representation gaps. So, one might conclude that Council members themselves are not deluded into thinking that they always speak for the whole Church, whoever or whatever that might be from day to day.
One heard the slogan, "On to Louisville" tossed about. It marks, of course, the direction toward the 1973 General Convention in Kentucky.
It also marks the advent of a gargantuan experiment to increase representation. Staff members from New York and Council members will go to the dioceses and gather information on what Church people there consider to be the Church's mission, how that gets translated into program, and how it is financed.
Whatever else "On to Louisville" may do, it cannot help but underscore the limited role that the Council has to play in the life of the Episcopal Church.
All their deliberations and proposals are in a vacuum without the faith and support of the Episcopalian-in-the-pew, who will never visit an Executive Council meeting.
Meanwhile, the Council meets quarterly at Seabury House (a Connecticut version of "Tara") in the pristine surroundings of the Connecticut countryside and undergoes the never-ending routine of report and debate; should that routine ever cease, the heart would simply stop pumping.