Wherein Dave makes a (very small) bit of Episcopal Church history

So among the very early morning activities at the Diocesan Convention today were hearings on proposed legislation. I wandered into the room about halfway through, to find that there was a resolution proposed that said:

Resolved: That the Episcopal Diocese of Colorado call upon its parishes and members to encourage constructive dialogue and otherwise support the establishment of accessible, affordable, appropriate, and sustainable health care for all the people of our country.

The supporting text to the proposal, noted as having no fiscal impact, was that this was a moral values issue. This follows onto a resolution passed by the national church at the General Convention this past summer.

(And bless you, Episcopal proposal-makers, for using the Oxford comma.)

Well, okay, so it’s a relatively feel-good resolution saying, “Yeah, this is a moral issue, we want to get ahead of it, and preach the right and wrong of the matter.” Nothing earth-shattering, any more than a proposal that the hungry should be fed or the naked clothed would be. One would think.

During the morning session, someone suggested that this needed some “accountability” in it, so recommended that the proposal be amended to include a paragraph directing the Bishop to name a task force to the matter. I shrugged — appointing “task forces” can sometimes be meaningful, but as often they simply end up getting together, nodding a lot, and then producing a report in a year that says, “Yup, this is something we should do.”

After lunch, we all had on our chairs little slips of paper with the revised task force verbiage, as noted above.

When we actually started discussing the measure, though, something odd happened. We were told to disregard the little slips of paper because a further change had been made by the committee, to wit:

Resolved, that the Episcopal Diocese of Colorado call upon its parishes and members to encourage constructive dialog regarding the establishment of accessible, affordable, appropriate, and sustainable health care for all the people of our country.

Plus the paragraph calling for a task force.

I did some quick copy comparisons, and discovered that while the Oxford comma was still in place, “regarding” had replaced the words “and otherwise support.” In other words, the resolution had gone from supporting health care for all to supporting constructive dialog about the matter.

Say what? 

Okay, so there is nobody out there more in favor of constructive dialog than me. But this made a radical change in what the resolution was all about. It had become something that recommended appointing a task force to facilitate congregations in talking constructively about health care. No doubt to report back at the next convention. Which seemed … not all that useful, let alone bold or an example of moral leadership toward social justice.

I asked a couple of people beside me what they thought, and the consensus seemed to be that the idea was the task force would somehow turn this into something that pushed for support. But I really didn’t read it that way. 

Meanwhile, people were getting up to talk in favor of the resolution because of a litany of health care woes they saw in their congregations, in their poor communities that they served, in their health and healing ministries, etc. And with each one, I felt more and more strongly that they were missing this point, because the current version of the resolution would do nothing to fix the problems and pain and death they described — it would just request that we discuss it more constructively.

I reluctantly (because it was inconvenient to get there, plus I really didn’t want to get mixed up in a brouhaha) slid down to the end of my aisle, and circled around the room to one of the microphones set up to take comments / arguments from the floor.

While doing this, an amendment to get rid of the task force (because it might cost money) was very narrowly defeated; I wouldn’t have minded, not because of the cost, but because I wasn’t sanguine that a task force would do much.

So we were back to discussing the current resolution, and I was at the mic, when someone stepped to the other mic and offered an amendment. “Ah,” I thought to myself. “Someone has the same idea. Whew.”

No. The person was proposing to replace the word “people” with “citizens.”

Say what? 

I was flabbergasted. It was nativist rhetoric (though not offered with any argument beyond its existence) at its worst, and seemed wildly inappropriate for a religious setting. I mean, yeah, it’s the sort of Limbavian “us vs. them” thing I hear and read about, but I was very surprised to run into it in this situation. The rather loud mutterings of the audience seemed to support that.

The Bishop asked if I was going to speak to the amendment, since that’s what was now under discussion, having been moved and seconded.

A small digression. I can speak in front of crowds. I’ve done so on many occasions. Give me a script, or a written or memorized speech, or even a scribbled outline, and I can do so very comfortably. Heck, give me a friendly audience, and I can ad lib quite well.

Put me in front of (a) a conference room with several hundred people in it, (b) no script or notes or outline, (c) the potential for hostile and divisive moral debate, (d) over a subject that I’m very emotionally committed about, with (d) the requirement that I address myself to the Bishop in front of all those people … and the glibness, not so much.

So I failed to address the bishop, per custom, as “Right Reverend, sir.” I also failed to start with, per convention rules, my name and parish and city. *sigh*

Now, what I meant to say was something along the lines of:

I oppose the proposed amendment. This is a moral issue, and to the best of my recollection, when Jesus spoke of ‘who is the neighbor’ in the parable of the Good Samaritan, citizenship not only had nothing to do with it, it was explicitly denied as a reason to neglect neighborly love.

What I actually said covered that, more or less, but not nearly as well. My throat was dry, my vision was tunneled, and I kept … well, it was shorter than that, but hit the high points.

I got applause, fergoshsakes.

The bishop, rightly, noted that demonstrations, of approval or disapproval, were not allowed following comments from the floor. I went and sat down at a nearby chair, in case I needed to speak again.

The debate continued back and forth for a few minutes, then the amendment was put to a vote. It was soundly defeated.

So now we were back to the baseline proposal. I headed for the mic again (since it was, per conference rules, a new matter). 

I remembered to address the bishop as “Right Reverend, sir,” but forgot to give my name / parish / city. Again. *sigh*

After that, what I meant to say was:

Point of information, please. I’m not sure the best way to get this info, whether I can just ask or if I need to offer up an amendment regarding it, but can we be told the reasons for the difference between this morning’s version of this resolution and the one before the convention? The removal of “support” for health care seems to me a significant change, and I’d like to know the reasoning behind this.

I said something like that, only, well, you get the idea.

The answer, from the bishop, was that it was his understanding the proposal was modified so as not to get the diocese involved with any specific legislative solution.

I replied:

In that case, Right Reverend, sir, I’d like to propose an amendment, to restore the “support” language to the resolution as it was this morning.

After working through what that verbiage would actually work out to be, it was moved and seconded.

I spoke to my amendment.

The provision of ‘accessible, affordable, appropriate, and sustainable health care for all the people of our country’ is not a political issue, but a moral one. It is incumbent upon us, as followers of Christ and his teaching to care for the sick, to love our neighbor, to treat the least of our brethren the way we would treat him, to support this moral principle. This has nothing to do with specific legislation — any legislation that would enact this goal would be fine, no matter from what party or source.  It is our duty as moral teachers that demands we support this principle, for all the very human, painful reasons that have been brought to the convention’s attention.

Only, again, not quite so coherently. I may have babbled a bit. I honestly don’t remember the fine details, which may be a blessing.

Others got up during the limited debate (three speakers for, three against, 2 minutes each statement max) to speak against my amendment, suggesting that (a) we shouldn’t get involved in the political brouhaha, or (b) this issue wouldn’t be resolved any time soon so waiting until next diocesan convention to make sure that we’re all talking politely about it seemed the best thing to do.

Others spoke for it, reiterating my points in a much better and calmer fashion.

Ultimately, the bishop called for a vote. It was close, but my amendment actually passed. Which, once again, changed the game.

Thus we were back to debating the full bill, with my amended language. Aside from more concerns about how much a task force would cost (answer: that was up to the bishop), there weren’t many more comments.

And it went to a vote.

And it passed. 

So, yes — I actually affected, through my actions and speech, legislation passed by the annual convention of the Episcopal Diocese of Colorado. I helped defeat a bad amendment (I’ll not characterize it less charitably), and managed to change the nature of the resolution to actually call for the diocese to support some measure of health care reform.

And I got quiet attaboys from our parish delegation, and from some others at the convention after it let out this evening — both folks I knew (and respect) and some I didn’t.

Not a bad day’s work. 

But will it make any real difference? No way to tell. I don’t expect it to grab headlines, or change legislators’ minds overnight. I don’t expect the diocese will hire a squad of lobbyists and send them out to DC to waylay Max Baucus. It may very well be just what I originally thought of it this morning — a bit of social justice drama, a feel-good resolution that says the right things but doesn’t translate to any particular action.

Or maybe not. Maybe it might have some small influence — even if it’s just to put the diocese formally on the (to my mind) right side of this debate. And, regardless, it’s now a small part of diocesan history. And, regardless as well of whether it makes any overall difference in the outcome, it was the right thing for me to do. And I did it.  I don’t mean that to sound like a brag, just internal satisfaction that I lived up to my principles.  Semi-incoherently, perhaps, but I overcame my intense personal discomfort with the situation and made an actual stand on moral principles.

I can live with that. For today.