He took his last text from Matthew's Gospel:
“The Kingdom of Heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.” (Matthew 13:51)
Everyone was wondering what he would say in his final address to Synod: Bishop Michael, the Master of our Diocesan Household for twenty years - would he let it rip? Leave quietly with some pastoral hints? Give his blessing for his replacement? Or, typically, tell the truth, as he has always done?
Some of the above? None? No.
He centred his remarks around the day’s Gospel reading, as he has always done. Every Sunday. Reminding us, in eloquent homilies, we are created by God to offer forgiveness and love, compassion, and mercy. After travelling the Diocese for two decades, preaching almost every Sunday, getting to know us and our parishes, Bishop Michael concluded that we are both ‘old’ and ‘new’.
“We are, as Anglicans, still trying to remain faithful to our identity while also adapting to a quickly changing world.” The old and the new.
“Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of Heaven is like what we have been living through. We are where we are intended to be – in the midst of what is old and what is new. We are trying to balance tradition with modernization.”
The ‘treasure’ we have, the Bishop reminded us, is the Gospel: the stories of compassion, the challenging words, the narratives of mercy, the quizzical parables, these constant nudgings of Jesus, and the terrible beauty of Jesus' dying and resurrection which created the new from the old.
The Gospel of Jesus Christ, he said, “is a treasure worth far more than all the things we want to cling to: our buildings, our properties, our traditions and customs, our usual way of doing things. God did not send Jesus to give us the Procedures Manual, or the Canons and Constitution of the Diocese.
“God gave us, through Jesus Christ, forgiveness and love, justice and mercy, compassion and mutual service to one another.” The old and the new.
As the Bishop was speaking, the room was utterly silent. Way beyond pin-drop falling stuff. Even the ever-present, attentive and cheerful staff of the Italian Cultural Centre stopped replacing coffee cups and spoons.
Each delegate, whether they supported him, disagreed with him, elected him, or those under the age of forty who inherited him, clearly knew this was an historic occasion. The Master of the household since 1993, was leaving the building, completing his final Synod: a man older now, who will be famous in the history books to come, (which he is embarrassed about), wiser, pretty much grey-haired, but still a tall, eloquent, shy, patient man, whose strongest gift is, and will remain, the talent of listening.
“My heartfelt plea to you all is not to allow the stresses of parish life to turn you inwards, or to make you parochial and congregational in your vision and imagination…. we’ve come a long way, but there are miles to go.” The old and the new.
His remarks also pointed outwards, typically, beyond our Diocese, towards the land and people that exist over the Rockies, towards the (downsizing) Anglican Church in Canada, and towards the wider world where the Anglican Communion witnesses through some 160 countries.
Africa, for instance, that was represented at Synod 2013 by the charming, upbeat,Tutu-ish Bishop of Southern Malawi, James Tengatenga, one of the dialogue partners in the recently-concluded fourth meeting between African and Canadian bishops in Cape Town. +Michael had been given a South African purple bishop’s shirt, embroidered in shwe-shwe, which he wore on Saturday. Many people noticed the shirt and commented on it. He wore it to honour his African guest, and to encourage us to look beyond our parish and national borders.
Later in the afternoon there was a surprise film to thank +Michael for his twenty-year ministry to us. “For an introvert, that is the worst thing you can do to me,” he commented later, as he sat between his trusted Chancellor, George Cadman and his freshly new, and steady, Archdeacon, Douglas Fenton.
“But I will remember the film long after I get Alzheimer’s.”
Our Primate, +Fred, recently touched upon the personal and private cost to +Michael, here, during his April pastoral visit, and again at the House of Bishops later that month. Being our Bishop has cost Michael Ingham.
He ended by thanking us for the “privilege” of being our Bishop. The old and the new.
His last scripted sentence to his last Synod was curious in its ambiguity: “I know you will extend to your new bishop the very same courtesy and support you have given to me.”
He was challenging us to examine our conscience, right at that moment, and reflect on whether we gave him, and the Holy Spirit, enough room to move, and the benefit of any doubts.
When he finished his remarks, the prolonged standing ovation partly answered his challenge.