“I thank God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.” (Philippians 1:3-5)

Forty-one years ago, I attended my first Synod in the Diocese of Toronto as a young deacon. I’ve tried to remember how many Synods I’ve been to. I can’t remember, but it’s at least 75 to 80. I’ve only missed one Synod in the Diocese of Toronto, and that’s because I was on sabbatical.

But naturally, as a young cleric 41 years ago, you know everything, and you have an opinion – of course, the correct opinion – about every subject. So another newly minted deacon – a certain Philip Poole – and I decided that a motion on the floor of Synod to amend the canon about candidates for ordination had not taken into account our perspective as new ordinands, and so we brashly moved an amendment. Anyway, who were these people who had moved and seconded the original motion? I had no idea who Archdeacon Arthur Brown or Canon Duncan Abraham were. Well, our amendment was soundly defeated, and Philip and I were invited to the office of one Canon Douglas Blackwell, executive assistant to Bishop Lewis Garnsworthy, for a wee chat. And it turned out to be a life-changing experience, because Douglas became a mentor and a friend, as did a subsequent executive assistant to the bishop, Michael Bedford-Jones. And almost 15 years later, I succeeded both of them as the executive assistant to the bishop. I have been in the Bishop’s Office, therefore, since 1992.

This marks my last Synod as your bishop, and I want to thank you for the privilege and honour it has been to serve this remarkable diocese. Now in my 42nd year of ordination, my 16th year in episcopal ministry and my 15th year as your diocesan bishop, tonight I’m not going to give a Charge to Synod. That will be up to Bishop Andrew to set the direction. Rather, I will give you a few hopefully brief reflections on some of the significant changes that are the foundations on which we will continue to build.

From Lewis Garnsworthy and Allan Read until Andrew Asil, I have worked under the leadership or beside 22 bishops in this diocese – 17 since I joined the Synod Office as executive assistant to Terry Finlay in 1992. Each was different. Each brought specific gifts. Each served with great faithfulness, and each provided the Church with the needed gifts at the time. I’m just going to touch on a few of the more significant changes I’ve seen in some of that period of ministry.

The increased place of laity, rooted in a renewed understanding of baptism, that began in the 1970s or took form in the 1970s. And then, more especially, the place of women in the official leadership of the Church. I was ordained deacon on the very same day that Marge Pesach was ordained as the first female priest in the Diocese of Toronto. It was 25 years ago – I was executive assistant to the bishop – that Victoria Matthews was elected as the first woman to be a bishop in the Canadian Church, on the same day that Michael Bedford-Jones was first elected. So they are celebrating their jubilees this year.

It has led to the development of a corps of highly trained, highly skilled laity to work across the diocese in congregational development, stewardship coaching facilitation and training, building on the Cursillo movement of the ’70s and then the Logos programming of the ’80s, and now part of our diocesan ministry strategy. The Order of the Diocese of Toronto has been established to honour the significant contributions of exemplary lay people doing their ordinary ministries within their communities. Over 250 have been awarded this distinction so far. That sounds like a lot until you realize that it’s half of one per cent of the people of this diocese.

The Our Faith-Our Hope: Reimagine Church campaign raised $40 million, increasing our capacity to support ministry in parishes in the diocese and across our country. The Ministry Allocation Fund provides a transparent policy for making grants that has funded new church development, innovative forms of ministry and parish support. The establishment of FaithWorks has meant that as Anglicans in this diocese, we have a focused program that has contributed over $24 million to assist tens of thousands of vulnerable people in our society. Our social justice and advocacy has given voice to the need to change laws and policies and provide opportunities for the poor and the marginalized in our wider society that reflect Jesus’ call to serve the least. The development and implementation of a robust sexual misconduct policy and Screening in Faith have enabled us to respond clearly, effectively and proactively to abuse and for the protection of children and vulnerable adults in our Church. Our policies have informed those of jurisdictions right across North America.

The rehabilitation of the ministry of healing and the training of lay anointers have allowed this ministry to become a regular part of liturgical and pastoral care in most parishes. The restoration of the diaconate as a distinct and essential ministry in its own right, and not merely as a transitional waystation on the road to the “real ministry” of priesthood.

When I arrived at the Synod Office in 1992, there were computers and typewriters and Dictaphones and one answering machine – and, yes, some quill pens. The invention of the internet, electronic communication and social media have revolutionized and will continue to change incredibly how we communicate, relate to one another, gather information, create communities and make decisions. It’s changing how we do church and has the possibility of creating conditions that will be as disruptive and creative as the printing press and the Reformation were 500 years ago.

Greater access, however, to information has not led to better understanding of truth. We are the best educated and most informed society that has ever existed, and yet never before has public discourse been so fact-free and truth-alternative. That used to be called lying. Our diocese has a continuing obligation and opportunity to speak truth to power.

We’re in the midst of rapid demographic and cultural transformation. Did you know that up until 1980, there were a total of about half a million immigrants in the Greater Toronto Area, which includes about two-thirds of the Diocese of Toronto? Of that half million, more than 50 per cent were European. In the last five years alone, there are over 360,000 immigrants to the GTA, almost 260,000 from Asia. We are now home to about a quarter of a million people from the Caribbean in total. In the last five years alone, that same number of people, a quarter of a million, have arrived in Toronto from just five countries: India, China, the Philippines, Iran and Pakistan. I bet you didn’t consider Iran in that list.

Today we have Anglican services in Toronto in English, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese, Tamil, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, Bengali, Malayalam, Tagalog, Urdu, Swahili, Sudanese languages, Ghanaian languages, Cree and Oji-Cree, and others that I have missed. And that’s just languages. That does not mention our accommodation of differing cultural or spiritual or theological differences.

We are a microcosm of the Anglican Communion in this diocese. That is unique in any part of the world, and it presents both incredible opportunities and special challenges of diversity and inclusion in a way that would have been unfathomable to Bishop John Strachan, our first bishop, or even to Bishop George Snell or Lewis Garnsworthy. Globalization is not simply a virtual reality in a networked world. Globalization is our daily physical and practical lived experience, and in this globalized world the capacity of our diocese to engage internationally is unique in Canada, and in fact probably unique in the world. Our work in bringing together the Anglican bishops in dialogue, participating in funding the Indaba processes that have created opportunities for deep listening and growing understanding across the whole Communion. The number of Diocese of Toronto Anglicans who serve on international commissions and bodies in the Communion is unmatched by any diocese in the world.

In a world that seems to be increasingly polarized, we have striven in this diocese, and largely succeeded, in holding not only the centre but even some of the fraying edges, by creating a big tent where many can find a secure place, where differences can be argued and expressed and lived out without breaking the relationships. We have a number of challenges, and these too are not new. We have fewer parishes, fewer parishioners, fewer clergy than we had a decade ago or two decades ago or four decades ago. Contrary to popular rhetoric, it’s not a recent phenomenon; it began in the 1950s. In fact, the longest-serving Bishop of Toronto fretted about declining numbers in his address to Synod in 1901.

Twenty-five per cent of our parishes are actually growing. The others are static or declining. That is actually better than most institutions today, but we should not let that comfort us too much. We have much to learn, and we need each other. All of us need all of us to faithfully discern where God is calling us to be and to do.

For me, the most fundamental change in the past 15 years has been the focus on missional work. Not mission over the sea and far away, but mission here at home, in our neighborhood, on our street. In spite of the differences that might separate us at some levels, especially in matters of sexuality and marriage, we have found common ground in the call to be missional. Not as a program, not to put bums in pews, not to maintain our own historic roles and privileges, but missional as a way of life, a way of understanding and of participating in God’s purposes for God’s world. Turning outward toward the world for the sake of the gospel, for the sake of the world, for the sake of the kingdom of God.

This has been driving our strategy, our decisions, our investment of resources, our prayer. Even if we’re not doing it perfectly, it is the direction we are turned. Our commitment to Jesus Christ in his way, his truth and his life is what binds us together in a way that is hopeful and compelling and joyful, and there is so much encouragement in this. This is our mission, this is our vision: We are a Church that proclaims and embodies Jesus Christ through compassionate service, intelligent faith and Godly worship. We work to build healthy, missional Anglican communities to share the gospel of Jesus Christ.

It has been my incredible joy to have been part of this journey with you. There are so many people that I could thank. It would take me the next day or two to even begin to do that, so instead of risking forgetting someone, I just want to mention five people and let them be signs of a whole lot of other things.

The first is my wife of 42 years, Ellen. It would not have been possible without my arch support and my arch critic and my bubble-pricker, and the one who keeps blowing up the bubble to make it fresh and whole again. Mary Conliffe, who for 17 years has been one of my closest confidants. And my chancellor, Clare Burns, who is number one on my speed dial – well, actually number two. Ellen is one. And then two people who, in the terms of the Salvation Army, have been promoted to glory: Bob Falby and Terry Finlay.

And there’s one more: you, each one of you. You have made a difference. You continue to make a difference. You will make a difference. I leave with confidence and hope. I’ve never been one to look back and hanker for the good old days. I see, rather, those good old days as signs of God’s abiding faithfulness and look forward to the next thing that God wants me and us to do.

In the words of St. Paul from a different letter: “For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you were being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be the glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

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At Easter, several parishioners kindly said they were sorry it was my last Easter. I replied that while I planned to retire, I hoped there would be many more Easters for me yet! I was not intending this to be my last Easter. (Now as for my last Synod…, hmm, that might be a bit more attractive!)

Almost 42 years of ordained ministry has taught me a few things about change and how I approach it. Change is inevitable. You can’t stop it. At most you can delay it, but that often makes it more complicated and difficult. At some point, you have to forgo the deceit that you are in total charge; you have to learn to trust. How I wish parishes, as well as people, could learn that lesson! I long ago realized that I am a lot less in control of things than I pretend to myself to be – and guess what? – they still work out just fine. It’s God’s Church and it’s God’s world. I am invited and encouraged to engage in it fully and to the very best of my ability – but it remains under God’s gracious providence. I have seen that so clearly in my life and ministry.

Change also involves grief. There is the loss (or at least the lessening) of something that has been very important and life-giving. There is the acknowledgement that some things have not and will never work out as you might have hoped. There are some things that you will not be able to accomplish or fix or get a chance to complete (or even get around to start). There is the grief for the undone as well as for the poorly done. That grief needs to be recognized and worked out but cannot be allowed to overwhelm. Grief involves at least pieces of denial, anger, depression and bargaining (to reference the famous patterns identified by Kubler-Ross).

How we learn to approach the small losses, including how we approach the change of retirement, rehearses us for the ultimate giving over of ourselves to God in death. As Christians, we can grieve, but not without hope; we can grieve, but do not have to fear. Loss or diminishment or even death itself are never the last word because God in Jesus has overcome death and given us the hope of resurrection.

So change is a spiritual and emotional process as well as a physical one. The ongoing presence of a community of faith and the assurance of a compassionate and abiding God have been essential to me in my past experience of loss and coping well with it in the long run. I continue to be blessed with a rich and vibrant community of faith and faithfulness.

I have always found that I am more interested in what opportunity God is offering me next than hankering for the “good old days.” As a lover of history and tradition, I have always looked to the past as a foundation for future construction. Much of the most exciting and enriching aspects of my life have not been based on carefully crafted five- or ten-year plans but have come from unexpected meetings, unanticipated opportunities – the “chances” that have been presented that are actually divine invitations to try something new. God has been faithful. God is faithful. God will continue to be faithful. Even if we aren’t.

That is the story of our faith. We are a pilgrim people, called to move (mostly) forward in response to the Holy Spirit’s leadership. Sir Jonathan Sacks writes that the people Moses led needed to learn how to be free and not yearn for the familiar experience of slavery. But they had to take time to let go of some parts of the past before they could enter into the true freedom that was their destiny.

Ministry has been such an enormous source of joy, identity, purpose and satisfaction for me that there will be grief and sadness about not being so fully immersed in it. It has not been slavery at all, although it has been very demanding. But replacing that with more busyness or trying to recreate the old routines is not helpful. I will take some time to wander and wonder before I take up a few new activities.

Yes, I will read and sleep, travel and write. I may try my hand at a few committees and mentoring roles. I will attend church in the pews and pray. I hope to exercise more (and hope that my hope is not a vain hope! I do know my capacity to procrastinate!)

Am I worried? No! I am excited by what’s in store.

And yes, Ellen and I will take ballroom dancing lessons, even if the Chancellor does not think Ellen has enough insurance.

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The rise of abusive language and behaviour has been boosted by the online presence of trolls (a type of online bully who hangs out on the internet and spews venom at others they target for attack).  Unfortunately, this has been augmented by the example of some of the most powerful leaders in our world, giving “permission” for such nastiness by the unfiltered and immoderate language they use both in public speech and in Twitter blasts.  Muslims, Blacks, women, gays, immigrants, disabled, teachers, police, conservatives, liberals – anyone who is “other,” whether by race, gender, religion, profession or opinion, is a target.

This is not right! This is not healthy debate about contested issues. This is not free public discourse. This is bullying. This is wounding.

We need to take a vocal and active stand against this. But we also need to check ourselves to see whether we not only tolerate it but repeat it in our own conversations in private, online and in public.

There is an alternative narrative to that of our world that informs us as Christians. Our baptismal vows include:

• Will you persevere in resisting evil?
• Will you proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Jesus Christ?
• Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbour as yourself?
• Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

These are not easy promises to make. They impinge on every aspect of daily life.

St. Paul’s famous passage on love in 1 Corinthians, read so often at weddings, was actually written to a community deeply embroiled in conflict: anger about leadership; resentment about privilege; disparities between rich and poor; polarized factions.

Sound vaguely familiar?

St. Paul writes about the truly transformative and redemptive power of God’s love revealed in the person of Jesus Christ. Love that is kind, not envious or boastful. Not arrogant or rude. Not insisting in its own way. Not irritable or resentful. Does not keep score of wrongs but rejoices in the truth.

What would our world be like, what would it look like, how would it feel different, if we predicated all our actions and our communication on the basis of such love? What would Twitter feeds and Facebook posts and news cycles look like if such love undergirded our mutual relationships?

It is not that differences of opinion would cease but there would be a new tone of respectful engagement. A capacity to work together. The desire to make things different for the well-being of all, not just those in my camp.

Sir Jonathan Sacks has written that God has created all of us in God’s image. If we cannot recognize the image of God in another person who does not look and think and act like us, then we have surely reversed things and made God in our own image. That is the essence of idolatry.

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I learned “Now I lay me down to sleep…” a rather depressing prayer if you think about it for a young child in a society where most children never experience death close-up. The Lord’s Prayer was better – but what did “hallowed be thy Name” mean? One school child exclaimed indignantly, “My name’s not Harold. I’m Fred!”

I watched my grandmother pray by her bed when I visited, and we said grace at meals – but only on Sundays and Thanksgiving or special occasions. Oh, yes, and when the minister came.

As I grew, I learned a bit more about prayer, especially when I really, really needed something or urgently called for help in an impossible situation. I would pray for my family and friends and some of the needs in the world. And, of course, there were long prayers at church that the minister said. (I was not raised in the Anglican Church, so in my church only the minister said the prayers as we bowed our heads.)

I learned a bit more when I was confirmed. But in university, I discovered the Anglican prayer book, and I took off. So many prayers for so many things and situations. I started to pray daily, and have done so for close to 50 years.

But I still had more to learn. The daily office of Morning and Evening Prayer with the Psalms and scripture readings have nurtured my life; they are how I understand the God I pray to and the world God loves so profoundly.

In seminary, I learned to meditate in silence and was introduced to the practice of contemplation as ways to listen to God in the (usually oblique) conversation of the heart.

I knew the pattern of prayer: Adoration, Praise, Intercession and Petition, Thanksgiving, Confession, and Oblation, although some were much more frequent in my play list than others. It took me a while to realize that something that I had always enjoyed, classical music, could be an entry point into God’s abiding presence. And how did it take me years to understand that the Psalms I was saying daily covered that whole range, and were not simply another passage of scripture to read but the prayer book of Jesus and formed the core prayer of the Church through the ages?

So yes, I can now affirm that my prayer is not only an ever-increasing listing of all the concerns I have for the world, the Church, my friends and colleagues, my enemies, my own needs, my shortcomings and offences for God to quickly fix at my insistence, but also includes adoration of the Trinity and praise of God’s graciousness and thanksgiving for God’s love.

It’s so much more than just me and Jesus having a private chat. Prayer is an ongoing, dynamic dialogue between God and me within the company of the saints, the Church in which we are changed and transformed by the conversation, the encounter.

Prayer makes a difference – sometimes as dramatic as a lightening bolt, sometimes as nuanced as a shift in light that changes the perspective, sometimes as unnoticed as character shaped by small choices made over a life-time. But prayer will change things, and it will change you.

This past Lent, I invited you to join with me, and many Christians around Canada, the U.S. and beyond, in a journey of “Meeting Jesus in the Gospel of John.” Several thousand of you throughout the diocese did. I learned a lot about myself, my colleagues and Jesus.

Now I would like to invite you to join with Anglicans and other Christians throughout the world in nine days of prayer from Ascension Day to Pentecost (May 10-20). “Thy Kingdom Come” asks individuals, families and parishes to pray for their friends and communities to know Jesus. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby wrote, “I cannot remember in my life anything that I’ve been involved in where I have sensed so clearly the work of the Spirit.”

Resources for prayer, activities for individuals, children and families, suggestions for parishes are available at www.thykingdomcome.global. Take part and you will learn something new about prayer and the power it has to change things – to change you. You’ll deepen your relationship with God and share that gift with others.

The thing about a relationship is that you are always learning new things, sharing new experiences, deepening (or not) your commitment. We can never think that we’ve got God all sorted out. If you do, you have begun to worship an idol – not the living, ever-creative God who is revealed in Jesus and his abiding Spirit, who wants you to know him and rejoice in his love for you and the world.

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Recently I recorded a video about the work of a bishop. Martha Holmen, my interviewer, asked, “If you were on an elevator with a member of Synod who asked what you would look for in electing a bishop, what would you say?”

“Is it a 2-floor trip or 17 floors?” I responded.

My 30-second response was this: “A person of faith in Jesus Christ, able to articulate that faith clearly and fairly simply; the capacity to deal with complexity; able to bridge the sacred and secular realms; open to a variety of theological and spiritual expressions and practices, and the wisdom to discern among them; someone able to extend pastoral care with compassion and still make tough and decisive decisions; one who can preside graciously in leading worship; able to conduct a meeting.” You can see the interview online on our diocese’s website (www.toronto.anglican.ca).

This was my quick summary of a four-and-a-half page job description! I could have added a sense of humour and a willingness to endure extended periods of boredom interspersed with moments of sheer terror. Lewis Garnsworthy, when he was elected bishop, was advised that he would have to learn to suffer fools gladly and answer his mail. He replied that he would be sure to answer his mail!

An electoral Synod gathers specifically to elect a bishop. It is not a leadership convention – that is going on elsewhere in the province right now. It is not to conduct a popularity contest or establish a party platform. It is not electing someone to deliver on a mandate, nor is it to focus on a specific agenda. All of that will get stale in a year, and something else will replace the attention and the anxiety of the community. A bishop is to be one with the apostles in proclaiming the resurrection of Jesus.

What we come together in Synod for is to discern on behalf of the Church of God – not just for ourselves or our parish, not just for our own diocese, but for the good of the Church of God – the person we believe that God is calling to be the next bishop.

Discernment is a process of holy listening, not political intrigue.

We do not close our eyes, utter a prayer to God and let God mark down a person’s name on a ballot paper, or wait for God to press the right number on an electronic “clicker” using our fingers. It is not magic.

Discernment is about using the perceptions and intuition and resources God has given us. It is about listening – to God, to each other, to the world, to our inner conscience. It is opening ourselves in prayer, expectant silence and mutual conversation. It is about paying attention to the needs and opportunities of the world and to the gifts of the Church.

We are blessed with capable candidates who will allow themselves to be tested and questioned and scrutinized by hundreds of people; candidates who open themselves to God’s invitation, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for me?” with the courageous offer, “Here am I; send me” (Isaiah 6).

Each candidate brings many gifts for the ministry of oversight; each brings their weaknesses. Which of them has the specific gifts we need for the Church today?

When the apostles met after the Ascension of our Lord, they were a fragmented, incomplete, uncertain group. They were 11, not 12. In fact, they were not alone. Acts 1 records that there were about 120 present.

Two names were proposed: Joseph called Barsabbas (also known as Justus) and Matthias. Both had accompanied Jesus through his ministry from his baptism to his ascension. (You will note, it was not just the 12 disciples who were with Jesus.)

Matthias was chosen. Perhaps electors were confused by the other guy who couldn’t settle on his own name!

But remember three things.

First, they were named, and they are named together, for all posterity.

Second, they both were equally qualified, both gifted.

Third, after the election, neither of them is heard from again in scripture! Nothing else is known about them.

Nothing except this:  We know their names and we can be confident that both continued to follow Christ and serve his Church.

At the episcopal election, one will be chosen as bishop – but the one does not accede to glory and the others fade into oblivion (like political leadership contenders do.) All will continue as faithful members of the church of Jesus Christ. All will continue to bring their gifts to the service of Christ. All will join in the central work to which disciples are called – to bear witness with all the saints to the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the new life that God offers to all people through him.

Electoral Synods begin with the Eucharist. It is not an incidental add-on – a nod to God – before we get on with the real business at hand. Rather, it is the heart of what we are about. We root ourselves as a eucharistically shaped people – a people called by God and bound together as his people into a community of thanksgiving and love in which Jesus himself is present in the midst. We listen to the Word of God, rehearsing our story, hearing again who and whose we are. We pray for guidance. We are fed by the very life of Jesus, who died for us and was raised for us and bestows on us his own first gift of the Spirit. Then we leave, sent out with joy and hope into the world God so loves, to join in God’s work of reconciliation and re-creation.

The Eucharist draws us into our work of discernment.

Listen to the leading of the Spirit.

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Every week as bishop, I make a pilgrimage of sorts to a local parish church. I get up, grab some breakfast, pack my bags and head out on the road. Each week is a journey of faith and insight. Each place is different in outward appearance, and yet at the heart are all the same. There is indeed a visit to a shrine – not the physical building, although some churches are very beautiful and many have been made particularly holy because of the continuous prayer of faithful people for a century or two. Rather, I find that the significant spiritual journey is to meet the “holy people of God,” the ordinary faithful people of any parish who give of themselves to sustain a community of prayer, who are becoming more deeply conformed to the life of Jesus, and who are quietly engaged in God’s mission for the welfare of the community in which they are placed.

Almost universally, when bishops are asked, “What is the most life-giving part of their ministry?” many name their visits to parish churches week in and week out. Bishops are not like most priests or deacons; bishops are itinerant. They move from place to place and – in the words of Rowan Williams, the former Archbishop of Canterbury – do the work of “interpreting the strangeness of one community to the next.” They are “one with the apostles” as they proclaim the resurrection of Jesus Christ and celebrate the sacraments of redemption.

Bishops get to see a lot. While we often must deal with the thorny problems that others cannot find obvious solutions for, what bishops most often encounter are people from all walks of life – “all sorts and conditions of people” as the Prayer Book prayer says – putting flesh on their baptismal promises to live as disciples of Jesus. This is not the stuff of news headlines or videos going viral on YouTube. It is an unassuming, unglamorous “getting on” with the routine business of living faithfully as Christians-of-the-Anglican-persuasion in the world.

It inspires me. It gives me courage. It gives me hope.

These weekly pilgrimages are journeys that sustain my belief and faith because the parishes, and more precisely the parishioners, are the local face of the Church. They are truly the “vicars of Christ,” the representatives of Jesus on earth, even though it sometimes takes some time to discern that.

There are, of course, some outstanding characters. There are some who are lackadaisical. Most are somewhere in between. But isn’t that true of every organization, and in every age? There have always been saints, and always scoundrels. Saints are hard to live up to; scoundrels are hard to live down; and both can actually be a bit of a pain to live with. In my journeys around the diocese and around the world, what really impresses me are the ordinary folk in the middle who try to make sense of their often confusing and challenging circumstances, who try to live with integrity and faith, who try to find some experience of joy and peace and to share that with someone else. They are the backbone of our Church. I continue to be impressed and humbled by this.

Now go back through this article and replace the third person “they” with the second person “you.”  Hear me say this about you!

We are currently in the midst of Lent – a season, yes, but also a pilgrimage. As you know, part of my Lenten pilgrimage this year is to join with others in the diocese, and specifically with a small group of cathedral parishioners, to walk together to meet Jesus in John’s Gospel.  (See www.ssje.org/meetingjesusinjohn/.)

As in all pilgrimages, fellow travellers who weave in and out of your journey are a critical component.  You learn their stories as you walk along the way, you may make new friends and discover unexpected insights about yourself. And you find yourself walking with God.

Pope Benedict XVI described it this way: “To go on pilgrimage really means to step out of ourselves in order to encounter God where he has revealed himself, where his grace has shone with particular splendour and produced rich fruits of conversion and holiness among those who believe.”

During Lent, we journey from the penitence of Ash Wednesday through the “training” or “disciplines” that build and stretch our spiritual muscles. We accompany Jesus on his way, from the triumphal entry into the Holy City on Palm Sunday to the betrayals and his sacrificial suffering and death on the cross at Calvary. On Holy Saturday, we temporarily halt the journey and linger to mull over the disillusionment and confusion that Jesus’ disciples must have experienced, and which we all face at various times in our lives.

And finally, we arrive at the empty tomb of Easter, which turns out not to be a destination but marks the start of another journey – a pilgrimage that will continue to mould the contours of our life. Eternally.

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Br. Robert L’Esperance, SSJE, writes, “What attracts me to (the Gospel of) John’s Jesus is that he is an iconoclast who strikes at the very heart of those things we human beings want to cling to, yet which have absolutely nothing to do with the God that Jesus calls ‘Father.’ What does Jesus show us? Jesus shows us love.”

Every year since 1995, the College of Bishops make a retreat of several days with the Brothers of the Society of St. John the Evangelist (SSJE) in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Some of you might know them as the Cowley Fathers, an Anglican monastic order founded over 150 years ago, who had a monastery in Bracebridge and were responsible for the mission to much of Muskoka.

When you read this, we will have just returned from Boston. One of the Brothers guides us in a daily meditation, with a feedback discussion later that day. We join the Brothers in their meals and their pattern of worship, with the Eucharist and short services (the Divine Office) marking the transitional moments of each day – dawn, noon, dusk and night. The retreat is a time of reflection, silence, reading, walking and yes, some laughter and play. It is not a holiday, but it is recreation in the fullest sense: re-creation, renewing and rekindling the flame of faith and hope in the midst of busy lives. It is a chance to come to terms with life as we are living it, and recalibrating those parts that need it. It is both personal and communal as we explore privately our own soul and grow in our understanding of each other. It is a good Lenten practice that I have valued enormously (even if it rarely takes place in the season of Lent!)

But Lent is upon us early this year – Feb. 14 is Ash Wednesday. I wonder whether the Ash Wednesday fast will win out over St. Valentine’s Day chocolate. (I am not taking any bets!)

The traditional disciplines of Lent that are meant to prepare us not only for the celebration of our Lord’s resurrection on Easter but for the ongoing life as a Christian disciple. They are:

• Self-examination
• Penitence
• Prayer
• Fasting and almsgiving
• Reading and meditating on the word of God

I want to commend to you one particular activity this Lent and ask that you join me in it.  You can do it as an individual or, ideally, with a small group. The SSJE, in conjunction with Virginia Theological Seminary, have produced a Lenten program that we have chosen to use in the Diocese of Toronto this year. It is called “Meeting Jesus in the Gospel of John.” Over a period of five, six or seven weeks, the program “invites us not only to learn about God, but also to enter into a loving and intimate relationship with God, in which God abides in us and we abide in God.”

Each week, a different aspect of this gospel’s message is considered:

• God is love.
• The Word became flesh.
• Close to the Father’s heart.
• I have called you friends.
• Abide in me.
• We declare to you.

There are a lot of resources available to help: a daily prayer journal, a daily short video, suggestions for prayer, online posts and blogs, free resources for study groups and individuals. They are available for download from www.meetingjesusinjohn.org. There is even an outline for a parish quiet day. Something for everyone.

I invite you to join me in this journey to Easter through Lent and “reflect on the person of Jesus, his mission and his message, as it is presented in the writings of John.” Draw closer to God and grow as an instrument of God’s love in the world.

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John Strachan died 150 years ago this month. He was the first Bishop of Toronto. I am the eleventh. I was overwhelmed by the thought of following him as I walked to the front of the cathedral at that moment of my election some 14 years ago.

He had the energy of the Energizer Bunny on steroids. A larger-than-life character, brilliant, forceful, energetic and flawed, he set the stage for the Diocese of Toronto as we know it, not the least in this: he trained up an indigenized clergy, insisted on a locally financially self-sufficient church, enfranchised the laity in its governance, and respected a diversity of theological expression – within Anglican limits, of course. He set the DNA of the diocese as a Church that engaged fully in the life of the community. While he despised Baptists and Methodists, the Anglican faith he practised did not stop at the church doors on a Sunday morning.

Bishop Strachan instinctively exercised adaptive leadership to shape a new colony on firm, age-old Christian principles, but he had to face challenges that no one had ready-prepared answers for. He took risks, he tried new things, he had to adapt old ways to meet new situations. This Synod is a result. He convened a gathering of clergy and laity before it was legal or constitutional to do so. Yes, there were discussions in Parliament to begin the changes that would allow it, but there was a pastoral reality that could not wait. It was what Archbishop Rowan Williams more recently called, in another context, a principled loosening of the structures, to allow the mission of the Church in a local context to flourish. The Synod came first, the authorization came later. And so, we have our 157th gathering of our diocesan Synod today.

He convened the first Synod for the newly created Diocese of Huron to elect its first bishop, when bishops were still crown appointments. Queen Victoria graciously consented to appoint the elected candidate, ushering in a new age in Canada. Bishop Strachan was the last and only Bishop of Toronto to be appointed, not elected.

He was missional, encouraging the founding of churches throughout the growing region, but he also provided alternatives to the prevailing norms. He founded a traditional parish church, St. John, York Mills, in 1816 but then started a 7 o’clock Sunday evening service – a fresh expression, if you will – at the grammar school for those who could not go to the morning services at St. James Church (now our cathedral) because of their work or because they were socially uncomfortable, even unwelcomed.

He was an ardent proponent of education and formation, establishing grammar schools, public schools, three universities and theological training. In founding the York District Grammar School in October 1812, he provided a full range of academic courses to build the capacity of young men to take their roles in state and Church, offering reduced fees for the poor so that they, too, could rise into leadership.

In spite of his reputation as a partisan, he actually worked to set a standard for inclusiveness. Dr. Jonathan Lofft, a former member of Synod, spoke of Bishop Strachan at a recent event at the cathedral. In words both sacramental and racializing, Bishop Strachan expressed the core of his pedagogy: “Indeed the human mind, whether enclosed in a white, red, or black tabernacle, exhibits the same qualities and powers, when subjected to similar discipline; and the Scripture account, that we are all the descendants of one common parent, is corroborated by the natural history of our species.”* These words, originally published anonymously in 1819, conveyed sentiments profoundly unpopular, even disturbing, to many of Bishop Strachan’s contemporary readers, more than a decade before the abolition of slavery in the British Empire and more than forty years before Darwin dared to go into print. In them, we find a kind of charter, moderately jarring to our ears, too, but sincere, the mission statement of one who would court controversy his entire career in the cause of the Church he loved and served.

Among his notable assistants was Neil Alexander Bethune, a high churchman, one of his first divinity students who later headed up the theological training institute in Cobourg and eventually succeeded him as Archdeacon of York and then as the second Bishop of Toronto. As important was Henry James Grassett, whom he appointed as his curate in 1835. What is remarkable for a man of, shall we say, strenuous opinion, is that Strachan and Grassett were at opposite ends of the theological spectrum – Strachan high church, Grassett an Evangelical. Yet Strachan appointed him as his domestic and examining chaplain, and thus with responsibility for the selection of candidates for ordination, and appointed him to succeed him as rector of the cathedral.

One of Bishop Strachan’s enduring legacies is how he dealt with property to underwrite the ministry and mission of the Church. He convinced rectors to amalgamate their allocation of the clergy reserves (the land the government gave for support to the churches). Although he was able to get fewer allocations from the government than he hoped, his leverage of the lands the Church had been given still provides income today for ministry from the York Rectors and Etobicoke and Peterborough Glebes.

Last year, we adopted a new strategic plan that will set the direction for our work over the next five years. Do you hear the links back to our DNA? Leadership and formation. Stewardship of property and resources for ministry. Trust and culture. “Growing in Christ,” as it is titled, identifies these focus areas for our attention as a diocese, rooted in our vision of an Anglican community committed to proclaiming and embodying Jesus Christ through compassionate service, intelligent faith and Godly worship.

Our mission is the work that we as Anglicans in this diocese are being called to do: to build healthy, missional Anglican communities that engage faithfully with the world and share the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Note the mission and the vision: these do not change much over time, but the specifics of how we need to put them into practice in our particular context do. They are a continuation of the ministry that we have undertaken in this diocese since John Strachan’s days. They can easily apply to parish life as well, and inform both the “what” we do and “how” we engage to join in God’s work of transforming lives. We will take some time tonight to think through how it might apply to your parish – and it does apply to your parish!

Leadership and Formation

We have a pressing need for a renewed catechetical process, the forming of disciples who are formed and being formed in their faith and able to share our story winsomely. Bible study, yes; but more than that, we need to develop our capacity in apologetics –  not to apologize and “say sorry,” but in the older sense of the word: to give a cogent reason for the hope that lies within you.

This Lent, I am recommending that we all take part in a simple exercise: “Meeting Jesus in the Gospel of John,” a joint project of the Society of St. John the Evangelist and Virginia Theological Seminary. Please join me in this. There are booklets available at Synod for $2. You can receive a daily video to your email, and small-group resources are available online to parish groups.

There is no dearth of good and diverse resources available. You don’t have to create something from scratch. I want every parish to find a program and use it, and not only during Lent. Here are some examples:

• Christian Foundations – Grounding for a Life in Faith, written by the Rev. Canon Judy and Pat Paulsen and the Rev. Canon Susan Bell.
• Alpha; Living the Questions; the Pilgrim Series.
• There is funding available through the Our Faith-Our Hope grants for more intensive leadership development.

We are in the midst of rethinking our recruitment strategy so that our leadership reflects more broadly the society we serve.

We have an opportunity to rethink how the Congregational Development department integrates the work of mission, congregational health and formation, and how it fits into stewardship, communications and property. I am very grateful for the 30-plus years of ministry that Canon Dave Robinson has given to our diocese and the wider Church, and I thank the dedicated staff and highly experienced volunteers who provide an inspired model of leadership for other dioceses.

Governance

For a number of Synods, we have considered how we govern ourselves. We have not figured out how to use technology effectively to bring people together to share ideas and make decisions. The technology is growing easier and is more accessible.

We have an enormous Synod – two to three times the size of our neighbours’ Synods, 20 times the size of our Provincial Synod, more than twice as large as our national Synod and more than twice the size of the House of Commons. There are many good reasons for this, perhaps. It is especially good at bringing people together for celebration, consultation and learning, but it is a particularly cumbersome, expensive and inefficient way to make some kinds of decisions. And our 42-member Diocesan Council is 40 per cent larger than the Executive Council (the Cabinet) of the Province of Ontario.

The parish governance structure does not generally meet the needs of our parishes or our people, either. The rethink is not a rearrangement of deck chairs, but putting our structures at the service of our core mission – to be flexible and urgent in our response to the mission of Christ in our communities.

Innovation based on evidence

Some years ago at a Synod, I asked people to take some missional risks, to take the family car out for a spin. I was asked if people had permission to have the keys to the car. Yes! Yes! Yes! We need to take risks – calculated risks, to be sure, but complacency is not sustainable.

It is exciting to see what has been happening when people do take the keys. I hope you have looked in the Convening Circular to see what has been going on in the diocesan family. It is impressive. Reach and Stretch grants, church plants and reboots, leadership support, new forms of ministry started, traditional forms of ministry re-invigorated, substantial contributions to the work of the Church beyond our borders. More than $1.2 million has been given for healing and reconciliation and Aboriginal ministries, and half a million dollars in matching grants to parishes for refugee resettlement.

We will highlight four or five today and tomorrow in our Missional and Outreach Moments, but they are just the tip of an iceberg of ideas that are changing the way we understand and practice ministry – and we are also continuing excellent and exciting work as we have always done it. Both/and, not either/or.

Not everything has worked as planned. We are collecting the learnings, examining the data, figuring out what went well and repeating it, and figuring out what did not and making adjustments and trying again – that’s what innovation based on evidence is about: creating and maintaining a “continuous learning organization.”

Evidence-based innovation is about making decisions based on good data that marry the hunches we have with facts, so that our interpretations and decisions are based in reality, not just wishful thinking. It’s about making good judgments, and so it is related to governance. It’s about taking risks, so it requires trust. It’s about prioritizing our resources, so it’s related to stewardship. It’s what John Strachan did.

Stewardship

Stewardship is importantly related to leadership and formation – we need to be formed as stewards of God’s creation, a vow of our baptism.

Stewardship is not only about money, but people. We need to identify and call our potential leaders from all the cultures and traditions we have been blessed with in our diocese. We simply cannot afford to overlook or undervalue the gifts of people who look or think or decide differently than we do. We certainly cannot allow ourselves to do that with other Anglicans! I am committed to intentionally seeking this diversity for the health and faithfulness of our diocese.

We have given attention to our patterns of financial giving. The stewardship education and mentoring programs that we have developed have been very successful and need to be extended. We are developing a program for legacy giving that you will hear about over the coming year.

A major opportunity for us is the gift (and the burden) of our property – $1.5 billion worth of it. As a basic principle, we cannot be possessed by our property. On the contrary, our property is bound by the mission. We are exploring new ways to manage these resources wisely and consistently, and seeking new ways to leverage these for the long-term benefit of the mission of our Church, just as John Strachan did with the clergy reserves some 175 years ago. We are seriously understaffed to do this work in-house, and we will have to think outside the box and change our governance models.

Culture and Trust

I have left this to the end, because in the long run it is the most important.

We live in a polarizing world: distrust of the “other,” however the other is defined; a society that has tolerated bullies and abuse, that has normalized highly charged discourse that publicly divides and mocks and diminishes opponents. It is often cloaked in a false tolerance in the name of free speech or expression of personal opinion. It is a worldview that has infiltrated the way we in the Church speak and act. It is wrong! It is not healthy debate. It is contrary to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is contrary to the vows we make in baptism to respect the dignity of other. It destroys communion.

In the alternative, we are called in scripture to “Build all up with love.”

In a time when the boundaries of civil discourse are neither clear not agreed, I think we should establish some mutually developed guidelines and accountability that will express our values for Christian conversation, and model parameters for our interactions with one another in the Church, with the wider community, in person, in our meetings, and in our use of social media. Let us build a stronger culture of trust, for it is an essential component of Christian discipleship. It will impact our leadership, our governance, our capacity for innovation. It is a matter of the good stewardship of our human resources.

A challenge that continues to affect our life together, and yes, our mutual trust, is marriage. General Synod met a year ago last June in this very spot and approved the first step to amend the marriage canon to formally permit same-sex marriages in the Church. Over the next year, including this afternoon, there will be further consultations as we prepare for a second and final reading at General Synod in 2019.

With the advice of the chancellor of General Synod, supported by a number of canon lawyers, I have acted under the provisions of the Constitution of General Synod and the authority of what is known as “jus liturgicum,” – liturgical and pastoral jurisdiction of a diocesan bishop within his diocese – to provide alternative rites for this to meet the pastoral needs of some in our diocese. It is an interim pastoral measure, in a restricted number of parishes where it has been requested after consultation. I have authorized some same-sex marriages to be solemnized in certain limited circumstances. Neither parishes nor individual clergy will be required to celebrate marriages contrary to their convictions.

As I have said, not all welcome this development, some because it goes too far, some because it is not enough. The traditional position on marriage is an authentic, sustainable conviction that is historic and significant. It remains a coherent theological, biblical and pastoral position within our Anglican tradition, but not the only one. All of us need to extend to each the most generous Christian charity that our Redeemer calls us to exercise as we, together, seek to discern and live out God’s will.

We live in a very diverse Church. The diversity that our diocesan community demonstrates means we are called to witness to the faith in a variety of ways, and though such witness is rooted in differing interpretations and understanding of Holy Scripture and the tradition, the ways are recognizably Anglican. You will note that there are strong affirmations in the pastoral guidelines assuring a continued and honoured place in all aspects of diocesan life for those who do not agree with this response. We are enriched by the breadth of this diversity and would be lessened by the loss of any voice. I am committed to continue the long practice of this diocese to reflect this authentic diversity in the selection and appointment of clergy, in honoring parish traditions, and in the membership of committees and councils of the diocese.

I issued a pastoral statement a few weeks ago, fully endorsed by all the suffragan bishops, about how I intend to include in the life of this diocese clergy and laity who hold differing convictions about sexuality issues that we are struggling with today. It is not boasting to say that other parts of the Anglican Communion look to us as a model for dealing with patient generosity and gracious hospitality; it is a fact – they do. This is not to sweep under the carpet real and important differences. It is, rather, to recognize that such differences do not permit us to abandon our more basic need (our neediness) to hold one another in love as Christ himself commanded us. I have met and continue to meet with representatives, both conservatives and liberals, to work out practical measures to ensure that all may flourish to the greatest possible extent within our Church.

This willingness to accommodate difference has marked our approach in controversial issues for most of the history of our diocese; we have not always done it well, but we have never been a diocese of theological, spiritual, liturgical or political uniformity. I have worked deliberately to make this a reality during my four decades of ministry. In spite of his very strong opinions on many controversial subjects, this was Bishop Strachan’s legacy. I fervently hope that it will be my legacy to this diocese as well.

There have been many significant changes in this past year. We have had a number of important staff changes at the Synod Office. I am very grateful to Susan Abell for her willingness to serve as interim Chief Administrative Officer while we reassessed the scope of the role. I am delighted to welcome Angela Hantoumakos, whom I will introduce later, to the newly renamed position as Executive Director, providing leadership in implementing Growing in Christ, our strategic plan, and coordinating the services that we offer to the parishes and people of this diocese.

Three area bishops have moved or retired since our last regular Synod. All of them began their ordained ministry in Toronto and served our Church with great faithfulness, gracious wisdom and effective leadership. I am immensely grateful to bishops Linda Nicholls, Philip Poole and Patrick Yu for their service.

Just over a year ago, Synod met to elect three priests of this diocese to be bishops in the Church of God. They have now been ordained and consecrated, and soon will have been a year in their episcopal ministries in their assigned areas. Joining Bishop Fenty and me, they bring new energy, their own specific gifts and their deep commitment to the Anglican expression of the Christian faith that is a blessing to our Church for years to come.

Bishops, even though they are formed in a particular spiritual and theological tradition, do not serve a special-interest party; they are bishops of, and for, the whole Church. The area bishops have particular oversight under my direction for a region of the diocese, but they are also suffragan bishops and so have concern and responsibility for the whole as well as the parts. They have concern for all the people of God – and who doesn’t? – who live within the boundaries of the diocese, including those who are not part of any Anglican congregation. They link the parts to the whole and the whole to the parts.

My decision to retire at the end of next year is not sudden or capricious. We have a growing granddaughter and are excited to have another grandchild arriving in February. Ellen and I have decided to take up ballroom dance lessons, although for some reason the Chancellor thinks Ellen may not have enough insurance! I am not abandoning the ship, for the diocese is healthy and vibrant, but I sense that it needs renewed direction after 15 years – really 25 years – of my leadership. I ask you to concur in the election of a Coadjutor, who will automatically succeed me on my retirement. Being a bishop is not at all like being a parish priest; related, yes, but quite distinct – a completely different rhythm of work, a different level of complexity, a different set of relationships, a different order of ministry.

I was elected as a bishop suffragan of Toronto, consecrated on June 21, 2003, and given responsibility for the Trent-Durham area. Archbishop Finlay retired as the 10th Bishop of Toronto on May 31, 2004. A couple of weeks later, I was elected Bishop of Toronto. I had a much longer preparation for the role than the dates suggest. Since March 1992, I served as the Executive Assistant to the Bishop, and so for over a decade I worked in the closest proximity to the College of Bishops and Archbishop Finlay. It was a steep learning curve to move from the parish into the Bishop’s Office as Archdeacon, somewhat less so becoming an area bishop with that experience. Nonetheless, I faced a surprisingly big learning curve when I assumed responsibilities as Diocesan.

Archbishop Finlay served as a coadjutor to Archbishop Lewis Garnsworthy for over a year, although he was already a suffragan. Our second bishop, Neil Bethune, was coadjutor to John Strachan. Bishop Snell was coadjutor to Fred Wilkinson. This is a frequent practice in the Canadian Church, including recently in Huron and Quebec. Niagara, Rupert’s Land and even Yukon are planning to elect coadjutors this next year.

I believe that it is in the best interests of the diocese and my successor to have a reasonable period of orientation to the role. I urge you to concur in my request for the election of a coadjutor bishop to be held in June.

In the meantime, my assistants have given me a new Twitter hashtag: #ImStillHere.

I have another Synod to chair next November, but I want to say now how proud I am of this diocese, the quality of staff, the dedication of clergy, the faithfulness of lay people, the capacity of our volunteer leaders. I thank God – at least most days – for the opportunity and the privilege of serving as your bishop. Thank you, and may God bless you.

*(James Strachan [John Strachan], A Visit to the Province of Upper Canada in 1819. Aberdeen: D. Chalmers, 1820.)

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From the earliest expressions of an Anglican way of living out the Christian faith, there has been diversity. That diversity has historically taken many forms, from tension, conflict and violence, to coexistence, indifference, and eventual synthesis. Whatever the witness of the past, however, the Diocese of Toronto is committed to reflecting our own diversity in a way that avoids the conflictual examples with which we are, alas, too familiar.

We believe that there have been positive forms of difference that have allowed the Church to flourish in many places and with many people, not only within Anglicanism, but elsewhere. It is this aspect of our heritage that we have valued in this diocese, and as bishops of this diocese, it is a value we wish to affirm strongly and preserve faithfully. Unlike in some periods and places of Anglicanism, here at least our unity does not imply uniformity in all things.

My pastoral decision as Archbishop to make provision to permit the marriage of same-sex couples in prescribed conditions is set within a broader process of discernment within the Anglican Communion and the whole Church. This is complex, multi-faceted and unsettling. All churches are dealing with these matters, some more publicly as we are, some internally, but it is a discussion that is global. The Roman Catholic Church and the Orthodox Churches, with whom we share the historic episcopate, although we are not in communion with each other, and most of the Provinces of the Anglican Communion, remain unchanged in their teaching of the historic Christian understanding of marriage as a sacramental covenant between one woman and one man. Some other churches, including Lutheran churches and Old Catholic churches with whom we share full communion and a number of Provinces of the Anglican Communion, have adopted changes to include couples of the same sex. There are also divergent views about how people and institutions can and should respond in a period of change when the parameters of those changes have not been fully agreed. The history of Anglicanism as well as of the wider Church has shown that matters of the faith, including those governing sexual morals, are not straightforwardly, consistently or unanimously divided into important and not-so-important. It will undoubtedly take a very long time to come to consensus and may not do so.

In the Diocese of Toronto, we have formally and informally discussed issues of sexuality for nearly 50 years. When our General Synod in 2007 received the St. Michael Report, it adopted a resolution that same-sex commitments have significant doctrinal implications but not at the level of core doctrine, that is, something needing to be held by all as a matter of salvation. A second motion was passed affirming that this is not a communion-breaking issue. Obviously, this last motion expresses a hope, not a prescription, since matters of conscience cannot be legislated or coerced. I take the St. Michael Report to open the possibility of a newly expanded understanding of marriage but, as a corollary, I believe it implicitly affirms the continuing Christian authenticity and legitimacy of those who hold a traditional understanding of marriage and the faithfulness of the theology and practice that support it.

In fact, the norm for the Church continues to be the marriage of couples of opposite sex. The Anglican Church of Canada is currently in a discernment process to include the marriage of same-sex couples. Until that decision has been finalized, and as an interim pastoral response, as Bishop of Toronto with canonical authority and responsibility for the pastoral care and oversight of this diocese, I have permitted a small number of priests, licensed to the cure of souls in a community, to preside in their parish at the marriage of a same-sex couple in certain limited circumstances. Both priest and congregation must concur that this ministry will be offered. No one will be obligated to act against their conscience. Neither parishes nor individual clergy will be required to celebrate marriages contrary to their convictions.

Not all welcome this new development: some because it goes too far, some because it is not enough.

We recognize there are theological and cultural differences across our diocese and within parishes which are strained by both the limits and permission represented in blessing same-sex relationships and more specifically marriage.

I wish to reiterate – and this is unanimously affirmed by the area bishops – that there is and will be a continued and honoured place in all aspects of diocesan life for those who do not agree to the provisional arrangements for same-sex marriages. Theirs is an authentic, sustainable conviction that bears significant and historic weight. It remains a coherent theological and biblical position within our Anglican tradition.

As bishops we endorse unequivocally the principle that the Diocese of Toronto must honour and safeguard the diversity represented in its parishes and clergy, including those holding to an historic understanding of Christian marriage, so as to maintain the highest degree of communion possible, and together participate in the mission to make the crucified and risen Christ known in the world. We are personally committed to continue the face-to-face conversations that will foster this. This diversity will continue to be reflected in the selection, ordination and appointment of clergy, and in the lay and clerical membership of committees and councils of the diocese. It will also include the honoring of clergy conscience in the celebration and blessing of marriage.

We have seen that there is diversity within parishes that are generally opposed to same-sex commitments, just as there is in parishes that are generally in favour. There is a rich breadth of life in our parishes, with parishioners who are theologically astute, prayerful and deeply committed Christians legitimately holding differing convictions. We are in very different places and have been formed in very diverse contexts, theologically, spiritually, scripturally, experientially. The diversity of our diocesan community is a precious gift, challenging as it might be. It is vital to maintain this as it enriches, not diminishes, our common witness to the faith in a variety of ways. Though such witness is rooted in differing interpretations and understanding of Holy Scripture and the tradition, these are now within the contemporary spectrum of Anglicanism. They need to be engaged if we are to learn and grow together in fuller maturity in Christ.

All of us need to extend to each the most generous Christian charity that Jesus our Redeemer calls us to exercise as we, together, seek to discern and live out God’s will. Unfortunately, this has not always been the case, and we cannot condone such lack of charity. The Gospel and our baptismal covenant call us to love one another with the love of Christ and treat each other with dignity, respect and forbearance. We need to be tender with one another, recognizing each other as a beloved child of God redeemed by our Saviour Jesus Christ, each one bearing the image of God, each one the desire of God’s heart and will.

Written on the feast of St. Michael and All Angels, Sept. 29, 2017.

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I have now served the Diocese of Toronto for over 40 years of ordained ministry. It has been one of the greatest privileges of my life, and it has not been an easy or quick decision to bring it to a conclusion. By the time I retire, I will have passed my 66th birthday and have served as bishop for over 15 years, with an additional 12 years in the Bishop’s Office as the executive assistant and archdeacon to my esteemed mentor and predecessor, Archbishop Terence Finlay. In each of the three parishes I served before that, I learned more and more from the people of God how to be a faithful pastor and priest. There is so much that I am thankful to God for in this great diocese: the tremendous richness of our diversity, the remarkably gifted clergy and strong faithfulness of our laity, the breadth of the resources we have been given, and the new opportunities we are afforded to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Over the past decade and a half, we have done some remarkable things: developed a growing team of high-capacity diocesan volunteers to work as coaches and facilitators with parishes; completed a very successful Our Faith-Our Hope: Re-imagine Church campaign to resource our ministry; intentionally focused on being missional as a diocese; increased our commitment to intercultural ministry; and renewed our witness to social justice both in our advocacy work and our direct compassionate service. There have been many challenges that we have faced together, including declining numbers and closing churches. But we have also named and faced our challenges squarely in the context of our Christian faith. We have a new strategic plan, aptly named Growing in Christ, to direct us in the next few years.

I am enormously grateful to God for the privilege of serving and leading this diocese, and especially for the opportunity to work and minister with such gifted and generous people as you. I am not retired yet! There is still much to do, and I look forward to continuing to work faithfully over the next year to reach our goals.

May I ask for your prayers for our diocese, and especially for Ellen and me, as we prepare for this transition. May God bless and keep you in his love.

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