At the suggestion of a reader, I am unlocking these essays about the ACNA. But I truly hope more people will sign up as a Paid Subscriber and never miss a thing. Seminarians can get special rates if they let me know their situation.
Bishop Chip Edgar has now apologized to the clergy and people of his diocese. I am glad he did. An apology was needed. He has given me permission to post it, although it is public everywhere.
I have it linked here. And I have posted the entire unedited version below.
Before I get into what I see in his apology, I need to be clear about my role in this story. I have no official role in any of this. But Chip is my friend.
As this controversy unfolded, I sent Chip a draft of what I might say if I were in his shoes. At about the same time, he sent me a draft of the letter he was preparing. He used none of my language. I am glad he didn’t. These needed to be his words.
If you read the comments on my article, and some of the online chatter, you quickly see deep, heartfelt hurt over the photographs and the cavalier way the bishop is portrayed.
People were not merely angry about ecclesiastical boundary lines. They were wounded. Some to the point of despair. Their congregations lost property, endured costly litigation, moved their worship services to temporary spaces, and were forced to rebuild.
The churches of South Carolina were some of the hardest hit, and Chip’s letter specifically acknowledges “our parishes that lost so much.”
To be honest, I underestimated this aspect of the event when I wrote my first article. (I have my own statement of apology at the end of this post.)
But I admire that Chip tells the truth about the pain. He doesn’t say, I’m sorry you felt that way. He knows he caused it, and he offers up what can only be seen as a sincere sorrow for having wounded the people he knows and loves, the clergy and members of his diocese.
This is important. Porter-Gaud is a private school in the Charleston area with Episcopal ties. Bishop Chip admits and regrets the mistakes in how he navigated the service, but he doesn’t throw the school under the bus. It is a good school, he admits. (And in truth, I know a family that sent their children to the school and have great things to say about it. They were in the congregation for the dedication.)
Bishop Chip says he should have handled part of this differently. That is clear. But he is not saying he should have stayed home.
This is an important takeaway too.
Chip knew what he intended. But when he saw what the photographs communicated, he didn’t say, Well, that’s not what I meant, so that’s your problem.
He recognized that photos and symbols communicate. The crozier, the altar, the vestments are all sacred symbols in Anglicanism. He knew that going into the service.
All of us—especially clergy—live in a world of symbols. Altars, gestures, communion, vestments, and even where we place our hands are all symbols that communicate strongly. They are signs that point to ideas and values we hold dear.
Our intentions matter. But we cannot live by intent alone. At some point he had to ask, “What did my people actually see?”
In my mind, these are the three most important words in the entire statement.
He could have blamed the planners. He could have blamed Porter-Gaud. He could have blamed Bishop Ruth. He could have blamed social media for taking photographs out of context. He could have blamed others.
Instead, he looks to what he could have done differently. He writes:
“If I had consulted with my more experienced brother bishops, some of this confusion could have been avoided; that’s on me.”
And again about the crozier:
“Clearly, both of our hands should not have been on it.”
No passive voice. No blame shifting. No “mistakes were made.” In effect he says, I should have done something differently.
That’s what an apology should sound like.
Chip was concerned about his diocesan clergy and families at Porter-Gaud. Refusing to participate would have sent a message to them, too.
This is the bind in which every bishop can find themselves. Critics sometimes frame the decision as though Chip had two choices: fidelity or compromise. But it is often not that simple.
His actual choices were harder: Participate, and some of his people may feel betrayed. Decline to participate, and Anglican families at the school may hear another message entirely: You and your children are on your own.
That is the kind of bind many bishops find themselves in.
He carefully explains that neither bishop preached or celebrated. He explains the photograph at the altar. He explains the crozier.
Anyone reading this who has ever participated in a wedding, funeral, dedication, or similar ceremony knows there are a lot of moving parts and things. Things get thrown together at the last minute.
But more than a few of my commenters raised a question that should be addressed: both bishops apparently participated in administering Communion.
This is where, for me, the apology leaves one important question unanswered. For some critics, the issue was never simply who consecrated the elements. If ACNA and TEC are not in communion with one another, should bishops of the two churches jointly administer Holy Communion?
Chip acknowledges the larger problem, but he doesn’t specifically answer that question here.
Then immediately points to his proposed solution.
This isn’t the first time bishops out of communion with each other at the top of the organization have to figure out the logistics of how to conduct a service.
Chip will ask the College of Bishops for guidance. I think this is a good thing.
Bishop Julian Dobbs, Dean of the Province, has now written forcefully about ACNA’s relationship with TEC. That is helpful. But Chip is also asking the College of Bishops for guidance about what our broken communion means in practical situations like this one.
(Demotivations With Anne examines Bishop Dobbs letter wonderfully. I’ll refer interested readers there. Her take on Bishop Edgar’s letter is helpful, but very different from mine.)
This is good. Our church needs guidance. We shouldn’t be guessing at our communion status based on photographs found on X.
What does broken communion with TEC mean when ACNA and TEC clergy serve the same school? What should bishops do together? What shouldn’t they do? Where does prayer together become liturgical cooperation? What about Communion? Nashotah House? Ecumenical services? Schools with historical relationships to both churches?
Those questions existed before Porter-Gaud. Porter-Gaud merely exposed them.
And Chip is saying: Let’s have the College think this through so the next bishop isn’t improvising.
I have learned something from all of this, too.
I wrote my first article because I thought some people were being too hard on a good bishop. I still think some were. I thought Chip Edgar deserved a fair hearing, and I still do.
But then I started reading some of the comments.
One woman told me about her sister’s congregation. When they left the Episcopal Church, they lost virtually everything. Chalices. Patens. Altar hangings. Their church home. For three years they worshiped in an old physical therapy building before finally buying an abandoned Lutheran church and rebuilding it with their own hands.
That stopped me. It hit me hard. In a way, it shamed me, too.
I had been looking at some photographs. The reader was staring at a gaping wound.
And it made me realize something about myself and my experience of leaving The Episcopal Church.
My experience of leaving the Episcopal Church was very different. When Christ Church left, we kept our property. We were not sued. We kept worshiping in the same building. I was not deposed or inhibited. I never missed a paycheck. Bishop James Stanton was sympathetic to our situation and helped pave the way for our departure.
We certainly experienced loss. Leaving a denomination was not nothing. But we did not experience anything like what many faithful Anglicans in South Carolina and elsewhere endured.
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Here is the story of our departure:
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I knew their stories, of course. I knew about the lawsuits. I knew about congregations losing buildings and clergy losing friendships and standing. I knew about years spent in courtrooms and temporary worship spaces.
But there is a difference between knowing something and feeling its weight, especially fifteen years after the fact.
I had not paid that price.
And I now realize that my own relatively peaceful departure from TEC shaped the way I first saw the Porter-Gaud photographs. I saw an awkward ecclesiastical moment that had been photographed and sent around the Internet. Others saw the church that had sued them, taken their buildings, challenged their clergy, and cost them years of grief and millions of dollars.
Those are not the same eyes.
So I owe some of my readers an apology, too.
In my first article, I underestimated the depth of the wounds these photographs reopened. I was too quick to see anger where, in some cases, I should have recognized grief. I should have understood that better.
I still believe some of the criticism directed at Bishop Edgar was unfair and excessive. I still believe Christians ought to be able to show kindness, hospitality, and even friendship across broken ecclesiastical lines. I am not backing away from that.
But I understand the reaction better than I did a week ago.
Chip Edgar wrote three words in his apology that I praised above: “That’s on me.”
And this part is on me.
Grace and peace,
David Roseberry +
The Anglican
Do you know about Living in Fly Away Zone? Pick up a copy today and start reading as an individual, a married couple, a child of an older parent, anyone who is thinking about faith, aging, and the things that matter most.
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Dear Brother and Sister Clergy,
“This is the day that the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it!”
I’ve been telling myself that lately as this is a time for me when days haven’t felt like that. So, I remind myself that it is true—it’s true no matter how difficult the day.
I write to apologize for the hurt feelings and re-opened wounds that the photographs of my participation in the dedication of the new St Timothy’s Chapel at Porter-Gaud School may have caused. I have heard from many—in our diocese, the Province, and even the wider communion—that the photographs of me and the Episcopal bishop, Ruth Woodliff-Stanley, have caused pain and confusion. I regret that very much.
Porter-Gaud School was established in 1867 by a priest from our diocese, Dr Anthony Toomer Porter. Since the school’s inception, the Bishop of South Carolina has sat on the school’s board. When I was consecrated, I was asked to continue that tradition, and, being impressed by the gospel work I saw from our clergy and lay people who are there, I accepted.
When our diocese left the Episcopal Church, the board decided that to serve both ACNA and TEC constituencies they would have both bishops on the board. There is, of course, an inherent awkwardness in that arrangement.
We work and worship together at Porter-Gaud in a situation similar to the Pax Nashotah, where many Anglican and Episcopal clergy, seminarians, and bishops worship together. Like Nashotah House, cooperation is limited to the needs of the work of the school, and does not exist outside that unique setting. I see that the online photos suggest things far beyond the limited scope of the school environment which are not true and cannot be ignored. It is simply the case that we in the ACNA are in broken communion with TEC. Our disagreements are real and substantial. I know that. I’ve lived that. In no way do I intend to diminish that hard reality.
As a bishop and member of the board, I was asked to participate in the dedication of this new chapel. I worried that it could cause consternation. I also knew that my refusal to participate would be dispiriting to our diocesan clergy and lay people who serve there and the many diocesan families who send their children there. The Gospel is bearing wonderful fruit at Porter-Gaud, and it is incumbent upon us to press into that work, not distance ourselves from it. I pray that, in spite of the trouble it has caused, my enthusiastic and joyful participation in this event served that good gospel work.
The Revd Palmer Kennedy, Head Chaplain at Porter-Gaud, carefully designed the liturgy for that important occasion in such a way as to mitigate the challenges this cooperative relationship engenders. He wisely planned for neither bishop to preach or celebrate the Eucharist. (In fact, he preached, and the gospel was clearly communicated.) In spite of his good planning, such services inevitably involve difficult choices and produce awkward moments. The decision that both bishops would dedicate each piece of the furnishings seemed preferrable to dividing them up (who would get the Pulpit? The Table?). If I had consulted with my more experienced brother bishops, some of this confusion could have been avoided; that’s on me. As it is, I did my best to navigate this complex but important moment, knowing that it could have significant impact for gospel ministry at the school. Trying to navigate a challenging situation well, and do it with the joy and celebration that such a moment requires, doesn’t alleviate the confusion and pain for many, especially in our parishes that lost so much, that resulted. I’m sorry for that.
There is a photo of the two of us bishops at the Table. Before the service began, we were asked to help vest the newly consecrated Table. Online, many interpreted those photos as suggesting we celebrated at the Table together. That is not the case.
Perhaps the greatest outcry has come from a photo of me with my Crozier and Bp Ruth with her hand on it. I wish I could go back and change that. Neither bishop was to carry a crozier in the service, as the Chapel is independent of both dioceses. At the last minute I was asked to use my Crozier only to mark the sign of the cross on the threshold of the door. After that, I put my Crozier away. It was not carried into the chapel nor was it used in any other part of the service. Clearly, both of our hands should not have been on it, even if only momentarily. In hindsight, I wish I had insisted on using the processional cross for that liturgical action and not my crozier. I understand how that image, too, suggests more than it was, and has become a source of much anger and great pain. I regret it deeply.
Again, I tried to navigate that terrain carefully, but it is clear I made mistakes. Brothers and sisters, where my actions have offended, forgive me. At the same time, please pray for the good work that many in our diocese are engaged in at Porter-Gaud School.
Blessings,
+Chip
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