A response to “What Ails the Episcopalians”

The Wall Street Journal recently ran an op-ed piece that can only be described as a hatchet job aimed at The Episcopal Church. Now as many of you know, I am an Episcopalian. I converted several years ago, and it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. So when I see the church subjected to ill-informed vilification, it kind of pisses me off.

The author, Jay Akasie, writes that our triennial General Convention is characterized by its “sheer ostentation and carnival atmosphere.” While I’ve never been to General Convention myself, I have watched the proceedings extensively. Akasie and I must have been watching different conventions because I didn’t see any “carnival atmosphere.” I saw a bunch of people sitting in a drab convention center arguing about parliamentary procedure. The only thing I saw that could be characterized as ‘ostentatious’ was the doctoral gown worn by the President of the House of Deputies when she presided over the House. But even that’s pretty tame compared to what other presiding officers wear!

Akasie also derides the Convention’s work, claiming that they “discussed such weighty topics as whether to develop funeral rites for dogs and cats, and whether to ratify resolutions condemning genetically modified foods.” But that’s a distorted picture of what actually happened. There was a resolution to authorize certain prayers for use with companion animals, but I’m not sure why the church deserves to be excoriated for trying to provide additional pastoral care. Besides, it hardly dominated the agenda.

Also, there was no resolution condemning genetically modified food. There was a resolution asking the Presiding Bishop and the President of the House of Deputies to appoint a task force to “to inform the Church of the issues surrounding the development of genetically engineered crop plants and the patenting of genetically modified organisms.” I hadn’t realized that seeking more information about a subject was tantamount to condemning it.

What Akasie failed to mention is that the General Convention passed several pieces of legislation that reaffirmed our commitment to the dignity and worth of all human beings. Now it is beyond doubt that transgendered individuals can take part in all aspects of church life, including the ordination process. And LGBT Christians can finally stand before a congregation and affirm their commitment to one another. Contrary to what Akasie seems to think, the things General Convention do make a difference.

Akasie also attacks our Presiding Bishop, who he accuses of being “secretive and authoritarian.” She is taken to task for “brazenly” carrying a metropolitan cross. Now a metropolitan cross is traditionally the prerogative of a bishop who has jurisdiction over other bishops. In the Anglican tradition, they are usually called archbishops, but we don’t have archbishops in The Episcopal Church. Instead, we have a Presiding Bishop who carries out many of the same functions. So it’s entirely fitting that she should carry a metropolitan cross. She’s not the first Presiding Bishop to carry a metropolitan cross, either. I wonder if Akasie thinks they were brazen, too?

Her choice of regalia isn’t the only objectionable thing about her in Akasie’s eyes. She’s also reprimanded for suing dioceses and parishes that have tried to secede and take church property with them. But Akasie conveniently ignores the fact that, under canon law, all church property is held in trust for the national church. I think it’s terrible that lawsuits are necessary, but the Presiding Bishop and her officials can hardly stand idly by and watch as people run off with property that belongs to the national church.

Of course the Presiding Bishop isn’t the only bad egg in the church’s hierarchy, according to Akasie. There’s also a cadre of “revisionist bishops” who are determined to rewrite the Book of Common Prayer using “blunt modern language and with politically correct intent.” In a bid to thwart the laymen who are courageously resisting these terrible innovations, the bishops are said to be intent on nothing less than the destruction of the church’s democracy. Comically, Akasie says that “a long-standing quest by laymen to celebrate the Eucharist,” which is said to be “a favorite cause of the church’s left wing,” could be in danger from the sort of undemocratic, unicameral legislature that the evil bishops are allegedly proposing.

Never mind the fact that the revisionist bishops that Akasie loathes so much are all elected officials who presumably represent the views of a majority of the Episcopalians in their dioceses. And never mind the fact we Episcopalians take our liturgy seriously (the beauty of holiness and all that), and so the idea of a cabal of liberal bishops tearing it up and substituting some bland pabulum strikes me as a bit nutty. That’s not to say that we don’t produce some less-than-stellar liturgical resources from time to time, but the difficulties involved in amending the Prayer Book help ensure that bad ideas don’t get etched in stone. And finally, the only Anglicans that I know of who want to see lay presidency are in the Diocese of Sydney, Australia. They’re pretty much diametrically opposed to the church’s left wing!

The Episcopal Church isn’t perfect. It never will be, considering it’s run by fallible humans who have a tendency to project their own views onto the Almighty. I admit that I roll my eyes at some of the things that go on in the church, but that’s just the price you pay for being a ‘big tent’ church. I would be hard pressed to think of another Christian community that tolerates the degree of theological disagreement that we do. There are Episcopalians who fervently believe in transubstantiation, and who seek the intercession of the Virgin Mary and the saints. There are also Episcopalians who see the Eucharist as nothing more than a memorial, and who worship plainly, without smells or bells. And when the church decides to take a stance from which a significant minority dissents (such as ordaining women or blessing same-sex unions), we do our best to ensure that dissenters aren’t persecuted because of their conscientious objection.

At the end of the article, Akasie says that he is an Episcopalian. But if he’s so unhappy with the church that he feels the need to resort to this sort of error-laden smear campaign, perhaps he should start looking for a new spiritual home.

Lords reform looks close to death

It looks like Nick Clegg’s proposals to reform the House of Lords are about to be consigned to the scrapheap. Although the government won the vote on second reading by 462 to 124, they had to withdraw the program motion that would have set the timetable for the rest of the bill’s journey through the Commons. Labour had promised to vote against it, and with around 100 Tory MPs threatening to rebel, it didn’t stand a chance of passing.

Labour claims that they opposed the program motion because it didn’t allow enough time for debate, but I suspect they’re more interested in exacerbating tensions between the Tories and the Lib Dems. It sure seems to be working.

Now the government is in a terrible pickle. Theoretically, they could just take the bill through the rest of its parliamentary stages without any preset time limits, but their rebel backbenchers would almost certainly end up filibustering it. The government will be all too aware that an earlier attempt at Lords reform, the Parliament (No. 2) Bill of 1968, died because MPs on both sides were able to slow proceedings to a crawl until ministers finally gave up.

If the Lords Reform Bill is going to make any progress, there has to be a program motion. David Cameron has hinted that he won’t negotiate with Labour, which means he’ll have to appease his own backbenchers. The Daily Telegraph has reported that Cameron is offering extra days in committee, or a reduction in the number of elected peers. But since they want the entire bill scrapped, it seems doubtful that those concessions will win him many votes. Interestingly, the Telegraph is also reporting that Cameron has indicated that, if he can’t win over his backbenchers by the end of the summer, he will abandon the entire bill. That would place a huge strain on the coalition, and I suspect a messy divorce would soon follow.

Still, I hope Cameron does come to his senses and jettison this atrocious bill. It really is a dog’s breakfast. Nick Clegg and friends have repeatedly said that they want the second chamber to be more accountable, yet they’ve proposed a body whose members would serve a 15-year term without the possibility of re-election.If you never have to face the voters again, you don’t have to worry about what they think.

The bill also seeks to ensure that the reformed Lords remains subordinate to the Commons. But that convention only really makes sense when the Commons has an electoral mandate and the Lords doesn’t. Requiring an elected chamber to kowtow to another elected chamber is an exercise in constitutional fundamentalism.

The way the government has tried to secure the primacy of the Commons seems poorly thought out. Clause 2 says that the Parliament Acts 1911 and 1949 will continue to apply to the reformed House of Lords. Those acts are what allow the House of Commons to pass legislation over the Lords’ veto. But they still allow the Lords to delay non-financial legislation for about a year. Until now, the Lords has usually given way in the end, which is why the Parliament Acts have only been used a handful of times. Would an elected chamber be equally self-denying? I doubt it.

Then there is the Salisbury-Addison convention which states that the Lords won’t reject government bills that arise from manifesto commitments. That convention was negotiated back when the House of Lords was filled with hereditary peers, most of whom supported the Conservatives. Why should it apply to an elected chamber whose political complexion reflects the will of the people?

On the plus side, the wrangle over Lords reform has helped convince me that Britain probably needs a written constitution. The idea of effecting constitutional change of this magnitude through a mere Act of Parliament is troubling, to say the least.

The Queen’s “raise”

I came across a gem of an article over at Jezebel dealing with royal finances in Britain. The headline pretty much sums up the author’s attitude: “Queen of England has been Queening So Hard Lately that the Taxpayers are Giving Her an Enormous Raise.”

In the article, Erin Gloria Ryan claims that the Queen’s “salary” went from $44.8 million to $56 million. There’s one problem with that assertion: the Queen doesn’t get a salary. The $56 million figure refers to the Sovereign Support Grant, which is intended to defray the costs of being head of state. Calling that the Queen’s salary is a bit like calling the White House administrative budget President Obama’s salary.

It’s also worth noting that the Sovereign Support Grant is not paid for through taxation. As the Jezebel article correctly points out, it’s a portion of the profits from the Crown Estate, which is a multi-billion pound property portfolio. Despite the name, the vast majority of its profits go into the public purse. The Queen only receives 15% of the estate’s net revenue from the financial year two years prior.

If Ms. Ryan had done her homework instead of relying on a single article from NBC, she might have adopted a less sensational tone (and there’s really no excuse for not doing the research, considering HM Treasury provides a very informative page about the Sovereign Support Grant). Then again, the prosaic truth doesn’t generate as many page hits.

The Diamond Jubilee

Today marked the end of the Diamond Jubilee festivities in Britain. Over the past four days, millions of Britons took to the streets to celebrate the sixty-year reign of Her Majesty the Queen. On some level, the idea of millions of people turning out to fete an 86-year-old grandmother is rather strange. Then again, the whole institution of the British monarchy is built on paradox. On paper, the Queen has vast powers. Describing Queen Victoria’s powers in the 19th century, the constitutional scholar Walter Bagehot said:

[s]he could dismiss all the officers, from the General Commanding-in-Chief downwards; she could dismiss all the sailors too; she could sell off all our ships of war and all our naval stores; she could make a peace by the sacrifice of Cornwall, and begin a war for the conquest of Brittany. She could make every citizen in the United Kingdom, male or female, a peer; she could make every parish in the United Kingdom a “university”; she could dismiss most of the civil servants; she could pardon all offenders. In a word, the Queen could by prerogative upset all the action of civil government within the Government, could disgrace the nation by a bad war or peace, and could, by disbanding our forces, whether land or sea, leave us defenceless against foreign nations.[note]The English Constitution, Introduction to the Second Edition, pg. 32[/note]

The current Queen may share many of those powers, but she can only exercise them on the advice of ministers accountable to Parliament. There are a few instances where the Queen retains personal discretion, but they are few and far between. She does, however, retain the right to be consulted, to encourage, and to warn her government. Because communications between monarch and minister are confidential, it is difficult for us to understand the extent to which the Queen has influenced her governments. That won’t become clear until the relevant documents are declassified after her death. Judging from the odd tidbits that have entered the public domain, it’s clear that she is an astute observer of the political scene.

But that’s not why millions of Britons have come out to cheer her. I’d wager that most of them couldn’t care less about her role as head of state; they’re cheering for her as head of the nation. They’re cheering for her because she stepped up to the plate after her father’s untimely death and immediately set about discharging a difficult job with dignity and grace. They’re cheering for her because she has walked the fine line between clinging to the past and embracing the future. They’re cheering for her because she has worked to recognize the many unsung heroes of British society–the dinner ladies, the crossing guards, and the jumble sale volunteers. They’re cheering for her because, at 86, she still carries out over 400 official engagements per year.

Over the past six decades, the Queen has shown herself to be one of the greatest Britons. I may not be one of her subjects, but I have no problem joining with them as they cry “Vivat Regina!”

Diablo III: Wrath

The Darkness Falls, Heroes Rise promotional page finally reached 100%, which means “Wrath” is now unlocked. I was hoping to embed it here, but WordPress is being lame and won’t let me embed anything. So here’s a link instead.

Overall, I liked it. Even though it doesn’t contain anything new, it’s still a nice treat for fans. Auriel’s a lot more badass than I thought she’d be. In the Book of Cain, her Cord of Hope seemed kind of lame (“Auriel will sometimes drape Al’maiesh, the Cord of Hope, around her comrades’ shoulders to grand them clarity of thought and emotion.”). It sounded like little more than an angelic Ribbon Dancer. Color me impressed when I saw her use it to hack through demons and fetter the Lord of Terror himself!

The city/fortress behind the demon army was also a nice touch. I don’t know if it was supposed to be the Pandemonium Fortress from Diablo II, or if it’s just an unnamed settlement in Hell. Whatever it is, I hope it shows up in the game itself.

When I checked out the fan reaction to “Wrath,” I was surprised to see that a number of fans didn’t seem to like it. Granted, the Diablo fandom seems to have a number of chronic bellyachers, but opinion seemed to be even more sharply divided than usual. The animation in particular received a lot of flak from fans. Many people seemed to hate it just because it was anime (one person on Diablo IncGamers even compared it to Sailor Moon! *rolls eyes*), and I don’t think they would have been happy with anything less than full cinematic-quality CGI.

So what did you think of “Wrath”?

 

La Reyne le veult!

Monday saw one of the coolest events in the British parliamentary calendar: prorogation. What is prorogation, you ask? Simply put, it’s the end of a parliamentary session. But unlike here in the US where the legislature expires quietly, Parliament goes out with a ceremony that’s 100% pure awesomeness.

The power to prorogue Parliament is part of the royal prerogative, though nowadays it is only exercised on the advice of the government. In the past, monarchs prorogued Parliament in person, but since the 19th century it has been customary for the sovereign to appoint a commission of peers to perform the ceremony on their behalf. Nowadays, it is also customary for the prorogation ceremony to include the signification of royal assent to any outstanding bills, but the two things are technically separate.[note]Monarchs stopped signifying Assent in person around the same time as they stopped proroguing Parliament. Until 1967, Assent was always signified by the Lords Commissioners. But that eventually proved to be too inconvenient, so Parliament passed the Royal Assent Act, which allowed the Queen to signify her Assent by signing Letters Patent. The older, more formal, is only used at prorogation.[/note]

Illustration of a peerage robe courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

The ‘Lords Commissioners’ are always chosen from among the ranks of the Privy Counsellors, and usually include the Lord Speaker, the leaders of the main political parties in the Lords, and the Convenor of the Crossbench Peers.[end]The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Chancellor are also named in the Queen’s Commission, but they no longer take part in the ceremony.[/end] At the appointed hour, they put on their parliamentary robes (complete with ermine) and process into the House of Lords, where they take their seats on a bench between the Throne and the Woolsack. The male Commissioners were black bicorn hats, while their female counterparts wear something that looks like a squashed tricorn hat with a gold brooch on the side.[end]The ladies’ headgear seems to be a modern innovation. Traditionally, women wore the same bicorn hats as their male colleagues, and I’m not sure why a change was made. I think it’s fairly recent though.[/end]. The commission is presided over by a Minister of Cabinet rank, usually the Leader of the House.[end] and he’s the only one who gets a speaking role. The rest of the Commission just sits there in silence.

The Leader of the House commands the Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod (who also doubles as the Serjeant-at-Arms of the House of Lords) to summon the House of Commons. When the Commons arrive, they can’t actually enter the Lords Chamber. Instead, they have to stand at the threshold. As they crowd in, they bow three times to the Lords Commissioners, and the Lords Commissioners in turn acknowledge each bow by doffing their hats (though female Commissioners don’t doff their hats for some reason).

Once the Commons are in their place, it is time for the best part of the entire ceremony: the reading of the Queen’s Commission. This is probably one of the most awesomely arcane documents in the British constitutional repertoire. It’s addressed to “Our right trusty and right well beloved the Lords Spiritual and Temporal” and “Our trusty and well beloved the Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses of the House of Commons in this present Parliament assembled,” and contains references to the “fidelity, prudence, and circumspection” of her Commissioners, as well as the “divers (sic) difficult and pressing affairs concerning Us, the State and Defense of Our United Kingdom, and the Church” that caused her to summon Parliament in the first place. At the end of the document, the clerk informs everyone that it’s “signed by the Queen herself, with her own hand.”[note]Those with a hankering for grand legalese can find a sample of the Commission here.[/note]

The commission read, it’s time for the Royal Assent. As the Clerk of the Crown in Chancery reads the short title of each bill, the Clerk of the Parliaments turns to the Commons and pronounces the appropriate Norman French formula (in most cases, it’s La Reyne le veult, which means “the Queen wills it”). That’s right: in Britain, a bill formally becomes an act when a bewigged man shouts at legislators in a dead dialect.

Assent given, it’s time for the Leader of the House to read the Queen’s prorogation speech “in Her Majesty’s own words.” Of course that’s not exactly true: like the Speech from the Throne, this speech is written for her by the government, and it’s basically a boring laundry-list of all the great things the government has done over the past session. When the speech is over, the Leader of the House formally prorogues Parliament to a certain day, and the Commons withdraw. Much more hat-doffing ensues.

Now there are some people who would love to do away with the robes, hats, and Norman French in the name of ‘modernization.’ After all, the prorogation ceremony isn’t necessary. It could be streamlined, or even eliminated. But at the same time, there’s also no real compelling argument for doing so.  Whether it’s fireworks on the Fourth of July or bewigged men shouting in Norman French, there’s nothing wrong with a little spectacle. 🙂

 

New look!

Observant readers of my blog will have no doubt noticed that it has a new look. As much as I liked the Mad Meg theme, it didn’t really relate to the subject matter of this blog. Given that most of my work is set in ancient Egypt, it seemed odd to illustrate this site with excerpts from a 16th century Flemish painting!

After a surprisingly long search, I ended up going with a theme called Weaver II. The brown color scheme fit in nicely with the Egyptian atmosphere I was looking to create, and Weaver also allowed me to customize the header with a picture of my choice. I’m really pleased with the end result, and I hope you are too!

Titanic Redux

An Australian billionaire has announced plans to build a replica of the Titanic. Naturally, the ship will be named Titanic 2 (most media outlets seem to be writing the name with Roman numerals, but ships traditionally use Arabic numerals, e.g. Queen Mary 2) and it will be constructed in China by CSC Jinling Shipyard.

As a liner enthusiast, I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I’m not too keen on the recent trend toward ever bulkier passenger ships. Ships like the Norwegian Epic and the Oasis of the Seas look more like floating condos than naval vessels. Even the Queen Mary 2 suffers from balconyitis, albeit to a lesser degree.

Epically Obese
Photo of the Norwegian Epic courtesy of Brian Burnell @ http://nuclear-weapons.info

The Titanic, on the other hand, looked very much like a ship, with a lean superstructure and four raked funnels. Aesthetically speaking, the Olympic-class ships were a masterpiece, both inside and out.

The sister who survived
I couldn't find a picture of the Titanic in full profile, so I had to use the Olympic. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

 

As far as I can tell, no designs for Titanic 2 have been released yet, so it’s unknown how closely she will resemble her namesake. However, it’s already been confirmed that she’ll have a bulbous bow for greater fuel efficiency, bow thrusters for greater maneuverability, and a larger rudder. They’ll also have to figure out a new place for the lifeboats. On the original ship, they were stored 59 feet above the water on the boat deck, but current SOLAS regulations require lifeboats to be stored no higher than 49 feet (though Cunard was able to negotiate an exemption for the Queen Mary 2 because of the nasty conditions on the North Atlantic).

The interior will need to be changed as well. I doubt they’ll have steerage, for example, and second class will probably be ditched too. Even first class will need adjustments (back in 1912, private bathrooms were the exception rather than the rule, even in first class!). If they’re truly faithful to the original design, there won’t be any balcony cabins like we know them today. True, the so-called ‘millionaires’ suites’ on B- and C-decks had ‘private promenades,’ but those were totally enclosed. The lack of balcony space could prove detrimental to the ship’s commercial success. After all, one of the reasons the Queen Mary 2 has so many balconies is that they were thought necessary to help recoup her $900 million price tag. Granted, the Titanic 2 won’t be nearly that large, but if she’s constructed like a true ocean liner, she’ll be a lot more expensive than an ordinary cruise ship.

Ultimately, the whole enterprise seems macabre though. After all, the Titanic is only famous because her maiden voyage resulted in the deaths of 1,500 people. I do wonder how they plan to handle that in the brochure!

Lords Reform: A Real Farce

The Joint Committee on the Draft House of Lords Reform Bill published its report on the government’s proposals yesterday. There weren’t really any surprises: the committee recommended an 80 percent elected/20 percent appointed House of 450 members, each of whom would serve for a non-renewable 15-year-term. The elected members would be chosen using a modified version of the single transferable vote method, while the appointed members would be chosen by a statutory Appointments Commission (though the Prime Minister would retain the ability to nominate a limited number of individuals to serve as Ministers in the House of Lords). The Church of England would continue to be represented by bishops, though their number would be reduced to 12. But I have a feeling that this particular scheme is going to go the way of all the other schemes that have been proposed since Lords reform began in 1911.

As always, the stumbling block will be the issue of the relationship between the two Houses of Parliament. Right now, the House of Lords is subordinate to the House of Commons. The Parliament Acts 1911 and 1949 allow the Commons to pass legislation without the Lords’ consent, while the Salisbury Convention states that the Lords will not reject government bills that arise from manifesto commitments.

But although the Lords can no longer fight the Commons on equal terms, they still play a valuable role as a revising chamber. Unlike in the Commons, where legislation is often nodded through without any real scrutiny, the Lords look at every clause of every bill. The Lords is traditionally a much less partisan place than the Commons, and many of its members have real-world experience beyond the Westminster village. The Lords can look at legislation from a different perspective, and their amendments often go a long way toward improving the final product (in fact, the vast majority of Lords amendments are subsequently agreed to by the Commons).

The main problem with the government’s proposals is that they assume that the reformed House of Lords will remain subordinate to the Commons. But while it makes sense for an appointed body to defer to the will of an elected body, it’s hard to see why an elected House of Lords should have to give way. After all, one could argue that it would have greater democratic legitimacy since its members would be chosen through a form of proportional representation rather than first-past-the-post. It would only be a matter of time before the two Houses came into serious conflict, and it’s difficult to see how the primacy of the Commons could survive. Legislative gridlock is all-too-common here in America, but it would throw a real monkey wrench into the British system.

The government’s proposals face a perilous journey to the statute book. I suspect that, deep down, most MPs are aware of the absurdity of one elected chamber having to kowtow to another elected chamber. There are also many Conservative MPs who would love to torpedo Lords reform in order to give Nick Clegg and the Liberal Democrats a symbolic middle finger. If the newspaper reports are to be believed, there are even Cabinet ministers who are quietly encouraging rebellion. Even if the bill squeaks by the Commons, it faces massive opposition in the Lords. Theoretically, the government could use the Parliament Acts to force the bill onto the statute book, but that would require them to get the bill through the Commons twice. Given how divided the Coalition is on the subject of Lords reform, I’m not sure the government would want to re-fight what’s bound to be a bruising battle.

Despite what Nick Clegg and company say now, I suspect the House of Lords will remain in its current form for many years to come.