THE FEAST OF JOHN DONNE IN THE YEAR 2020

THE FEAST OF JOHN DONNE
IN THE YEAR 2020

It is good, so good, that today, March 31, 2020, we keep the feast of John Donne! John Donne is one my personal heroes, because he was what I aspire to be: a strong poet and a devoted dean (though he was a brilliantpoet!).  He died as dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral, in London, in 1631.

Here is a quick review: Brought up a Roman Catholic just after the English Reformation, John Donne (born 1573) did not intend to become a priest or a theologian. He studied law and apparently had a way with women. His early poetry surely reflected that tendency, and his is still held as an example of superb love poetry! (Read the bawdy “To His Mistress On Going to Bed”!). When he fell in love with (the young) Anne More, her family did not give consent to a marriage, and so he eloped with her. Her father, therefore, threw Donne into prison. (He wrote, from prison, the short epigram: “John Donne, Anne Donne, undone.”).

It was only later that their marriage was declared valid. Still later, a friend urged ordination, and so he was ordained in 1615. Sadly, in 1617, his beloved wife died, five days after the birth of their twelfth child together. Donne would go on, however, to become dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, and write some of the most sublime poetry of England.

Well, on this March 31, 2020, we are living in a time of both disease and imprisonment. The COVID-19 illness has infected all of us, either with the virus itself or with the fear of it and the precautions against it. We, all of us, are affected by the disease. We are also affected by a kind of prison: our homes!  Most of us are confined to our homes voluntarily, but still our homes can seem like prisons to us. We are stuck.

In this situation, read John Donne! John Donne knew of love and prison and illness. And he wrote deeply and powerfully about the presence of God in all those conditions. When he lay ill in his older years, he wrote (in Hymn to God, My God, In My Sickness):

I joy that in these straits I see my west;
     For though their currents yield return to none,
   What shall my west hurt me? As west and east
     In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,
     So death doth touch the resurrection.

But Donne may be most well known by words which ring true, so true, today, from his Meditation 17, NUNC LENTO SONITU DICUNT, MORIERIS [Now this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.]

Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill as that he know not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me and see my state may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that.

The church is catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does, belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me. 

…As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness.

….  No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

Today, March 31, 2020, we know again the same thing that John Donne knew: no person is an island. We are connected. Sorrow and joy affect us all. Love affects us all. In all those conditions, God, our holy and passionate God, ravishes us wherever we are, in prison or in illness or in joy or in love. Batter my heart, three-person’d God!

AMEN.

The Very Reverend Samuel G. Candler
31 March 2020

DO NOT FEAR! THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH IS NOT SUSPENDED AND WE ARE NOT HIERARCHICAL!

Do not fear! Apparently, the various primates of the Anglican Communion of Churches, meeting in Canterbury this past week (January 2016), voted on a statement which considers “how we may preserve our unity in Christ given the ongoing deep differences that exist among us concerning our understanding of marriage.” An 8-point resolution followed, apparently supported by a majority of the 38 primates, but not by all of them.

I do yet not have all details of the primates’ vote, but I am seeing various headlines and reports saying that The Episcopal Church has been “suspended” from The Anglican Communion. Other articles mention that the Anglican Communion of Churches is “the third largest Christian body in the world.”

Such reports sound sensationalistic, but they are deceptive and can be misleading. Here’s why: The Anglican Communion of Churches is simply not organized in the way that the Roman Catholic Church is. Casual readers of church news might prefer otherwise, desiring a handy table of heirarchy and doctrine. But no. The various churches and provinces of the Anglican Communion of Churches are quite diverse, and held together by common faith, common heritage, common tradition, and common spirit – but not held together by doctrinal absolutism, or one pope, or one body that sets global policy. For those reasons, large differences of opinion and theology, on matters like same-sex marriage, continue to exist in the Anglican Communion of Churches.

But, whatever else the primates can do, they cannot vote, by any margin, to keep a province or church from participating in the Anglican Communion of Churches. In fact, the word “suspension” does not appear at all in their January 2016 8-point resolution. (Another point: To claim that I, as an Episcopalian am not an Anglican, would be similar to claiming – in the heat of some rhetorical political dispute —that I, as a Georgian, am not an American.)

For the past fifteen years, various votes among various entities in the Anglican Communion have tried to force theological unity on the controversial issue of same-sex marriage. Many such votes have tried to appeal to some ultimate authority, or tried to assume some ultimate heirarchy, in order to support their position.

I am of the opinion that such desired heirarchies, or such fantasized hierarchies, are simply not there. Though our American Episcopal Church has recently tried to describe itself as an hierarchical church in certain legal situations, our beautiful and larger Anglican tradition is simply (and complex-ly) NOT hierarchical. The Episcopal Church is one of 38 global provinces who have a history and tradition and theology set in the gracious and generous elements of that Christianity which has roots in the British Isles.

Obviously, the issue of same-sex blessings, and same-sex marriage, has obsessed our church in recent years. Whether they are for or against same-sex marriage, some may regret that obsession. On the other hand, however, the issue is not a bad proxy for generosity and flexibility and openness, and, indeed, love. No matter what part of the globe we inhabit, our Anglican tradition has typically been one of the more progressive of the Christian expressions of faith.

I believe that our progressiveness, our openness to development, results from our sensitive observation and attention to the presence of God in the flesh. We believe in Jesus Christ. We believe in incarnation. We continue to seek God in one another, and to affirm the presence of God in people, even in people who think and act differently from us.

In short, we are not an hierarchical church! The primates do not run the parishes of The Episcopal Church. (In fact, our bishops don’t actually run them either! In times of controversy, it is not healthy simply to appeal to higher and higher perceived hierarchies. It is healthier to make principled and Christian stands within our own integrity.)

I urge us, then, to continue living out our service and witness, our love and ministry, in the same Christian ways that we have been living them out. Do not fear! Jesus Christ is with us, leading us in the Spirit into all truth.

MORE DETAILS ON THE 2016 PRIMATES’ RESOLUTION,

IN THE CONTEXT OF THE PAST FIFTEEN YEARS

The operative words of the January 2016 Anglican Communion primates’ resolution, on the matter for further impairments to communion, seem to be these:

“we formally acknowledge this distance [between our positions] by requiring that for a period of three years The Episcopal Church no longer represent us on ecumenical and interfaith bodies, should not be appointed or elected to an internal standing committee and that while participating in the internal bodies of the Anglican Communion, they will not take part in decision making on any issues pertaining to doctrine or polity.”

The phrase, “should not be appointed,” seems to be a request of those making appointments, generally the Archbishop of Canterbury and maybe, in some cases, the Anglican Communion Office. This statement seems to be a hope, and it is up to the “appointers” whether they accept the notion of being “required.”

The phrase, “should not be elected” is, again, a wish. How can anyone enforce, or guarantee, an election, which is generally understood to be a matter of voluntary and free will?

The phrase, “internal standing committee” is a bit ambiguous. Perhaps this phrase refers to the rather newly formed “Standing Committee of the Anglican Communion,” whose members include Bishop Ian Douglas of Connecticut.

The phrase, “not take part in decision making on any issues pertaining to doctrine or polity,” takes up the ongoing matter of who decides doctrine and polity in Anglican Communion churches. This is exactly the matter under dispute across the global communion of churches. The primates have been meeting formally only since 1998! They were never intended to be doctrinal governors! Indeed, the manners in which some primates and bishops are appointed, some selected, some chosen, and some elected, vary widely across the globe. The Lambeth Conference of Bishops, whose first meeting was in 1867, was also never intended to settle matters of doctrine. Votes of Lambeth Conference were never originally intended to become doctrine, even though conservative advocates wanted the 1998 resolution, Lambeth I.10 to be interpreted as such.

Will the hopes and “requirements” of the primates’ January 2016 resolution be enforced? I am of the opinion that they will not be. The points are certainly heartfelt and sincere and faithful. Though I am progressive on these matters, I know that these controversies are painful for everyone.

But God is doing a new thing among us. Word is that the present Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby does desire to bring the matter of sanctioning same sex marriage to the General Synod of The Church of England. The ever witty Giles Fraser, a priest who writes for The Guardian newspaper, notes that same sex marriages are occurring in England now, presided over by ministers due to a strange legal loophole.

Giles Fraser remarks that “The Anglican church is only nominally a top-down organisation. What matters most is what happens on the ground. And on the ground, in pews across England, Scotland, Wales, Canada, Brazil, Korea, Japan and the US, the movement towards marriage equality is inexorable. Whatever piece of paper Justin Welby emerges with, it won’t hold back the tide of history. The best the conservatives can hope for is a few speed bumps. (see entire article here).”

Essentially, the prediction is that, soon, even the original provinces of the Anglican Communion of Churches, in sanctioning same-sex marriage, may well be acting in ways opposed by churches in the so-called Global South.

As for American Episcopalians serving on appointed ecumenical and interreligious boards, it is important to remember that the Archbishop of Canterbury made a similar pronouncement of banning Episcopal Church and Anglican Church of Canada representatives in May of 2010 (in his notorious Pentecost Letter!). But The Anglican Communion Office may have found ways to proceed with American and Canadian representatives anyway. (see the appointment of American Mark McIntosh here,), and see the appointment of Canadian Linda Nicholls here ).

Finally, of course, there is the Anglican Consultative Council, which first met in 1971, and which might better represent the breadth of the Anglican Communion of Churches. That group also represents the 38 provinces of the Anglican Communion of Churches, but its voting members are comprised of lay people and priests, in addition to bishops.

I urge The Episcopal Church never, ever, to withdraw from our voting participation in the Anglican Consultative Council. A short remembrance of how The Windsor Report was formalized serves as a warning:

The Windsor Report of 2004, with its proposals for certain moratoria on same-sex blessings, was accepted by vote of the Primates Meeting in 2005. Afterwards, a resolution supporting the Primates’ decisions then came before the Anglican Consultative Council of 2005. However, one of the Primates’ proposals had already been accommodated before its official reception! That is, that members of the ACC from The Episcopal Church and from the Anglican Church of Canada, would absent themselves from official attendance at the next meeting of the Anglican Consultative Council.

Therefore, when the Anglican Consultative Council met in Nottingham, England, in 2005, two delegations were exercising what I would call “gracious restraint.” They knew that the atmosphere was tense, and they wanted to indicate some tangible form of respect for those who disagreed with actions in The Episcopal Church and The Anglican Church of Canada.

Unfortunately, however, the matter of accepting The Windsor Report, and thus further “formalizing” it, and thus further “formalizing” its moratoria, was exactly one of the key matters of ACC-13 in Nottingham. One of the emerging “Instruments of Communion” was voting on a matter without two delegations (each including three members, six people in all).

The vote was close! The vote was 30 in favor of affirming The Windsor Report, with 28 opposed, and with 4 in abstention. The chair determined that the resolution had thus passed, and so the Windsor Report, with its notion of “moratoria,” became further “formalized.” Had the delegations from The Episcopal Church and The Anglican Church of Canada been voting, certainly the results would have been different.

The “lesson” for all Anglicans bears repeating. Stay in communion. Stay at the table. Claim your vote. I acknowledge that such table fellowship is difficult, for believers on all sides of the issues, and especially on this issue of marriage. What we believe about marriage comes from the heart of our theologies of faithfulness and commitment.

Finally, again, “Do not fear” are the familiar words of God’s angels throughout scripture. They are the words of Jesus himself. Be of good courage, be of good cheer, said Jesus, “I have overcome the world.” The world would have us panicked by sensationalistic headlines and simplistic summaries. The world would have us shown as divided against ourselves. But we Episcopalians and Anglicans have far more that unites us than divides us. We have accepted the love of Jesus, and we are committed to loving him more and more, in each of our neighbors and around the globe.

GHANA PILGRIMAGE - FRIDAY 26 JULY - BERAKAH AND THANKS

Friday would be my last day with “#Ghanapilgrim13,” the pilgrimage to Ghana sponsored by Episcopal Relief and Development. I would visit the notorious Cape Coast Castle, then St. Nicholas Seminary in Cape Coast, and then get in a car for the Accra airport. It had been a long week, long but also holy, and immensely gratifying.

Though Cape Coast was similar to Elmina, the dramatic effect of being there was not diminished. We visited squalid dungeons again, many more of them at Cape Coast than at Elmina. We heard the wrenching stories. We also saw the memorial of the first African to be ordained in the Church of England, Philip Quaque (1741-1816). At Cape Coast Castle, we were guided by a man who was as capable as our guide at Elmina Castle. We saw there a recent plaque, commemorating the visit of President and Mrs. Barak Obama in 2009.

Much of my reaction and reflection at Cape Coast was similar to me reflection at Elmina. Rather than repeat those words, I refer you to yesterday’s notes (see my 25 July entry here).

As I said yesterday, and at Elmina itself, one must be careful with words at these sacred places. Words simply fail to contain the horror, and the evil, and the sheer ignorance of what transpired at those two castles. Again, however, I must declare that I found the places holy. This is a pilgrimage for me, and I am seeking the Holy. Indeed, I am seeking God. I cannot describe how God was at Elmina and Cape Coast. Except that God was present in the witnesses and martyrs there. God was present in the suffering. Again, as I said yesterday: if God is not present in suffering, then God is not present anywhere. God is there, in the memories of suffering at Elmina and Cape Coast Castles.

From Cape Coast Castle, we drove a short distance to St. Nicholas Seminary at Cape Coast, the Anglican seminary for Ghana. Established in 1975, it is the only active seminary of the Anglican Church in the Province of West Africa. I was delighted to be there, and even more delighted to see my old friend, the dean, the Very Reverend Victor Atta-Baffoe. What a gracious and delightful man he is.

We pilgrims shared Eucharist together, in the chapel of St. Nicholas Seminary, with its beautiful crucifix above the altar. The Reverend Gay Jennings celebrated, and she invited us to share brief reflections in lieu of any formal sermon. Most of us did, expressing appreciation and gratitude to Ghana, to our hosts, to our leaders, and, indeed, to one another.

From the seminary, our group split up. For me, it was the end of my time with these fellow pilgrims. Alex Baumgarten, Bill Miller, and I were scheduled to fly from Accra on Friday night, while the rest would fly back on Saturday. They took a leisurely lunch back at the Elmina hotel, while Alex, Bill, and I got in a car for the three hour drive back to the Accra Airport. Trusting our wonderful driver, Emmanuel, we made it in plenty of time.

Then, when I landed back in Atlanta, via JFK in New York and via the Accra airport, my pilgrimage was over. In just under 24 hours, I traveled successfully from the crowded roads of Ghana to the crowded streets of Atlanta.

In conclusion, I give thanks for this Ghana pilgrimage. I thank Gay Jennings for the invitation, I thank Rob Radtke and the excellent staff at Episcopal Relief and Development for their guidance, and I thank Bishop Jacob Ayeebo and the ADDRO staff for their happy and beautiful hospitality. I especially thank my fellow pilgrims; what a holy and responsible group! I found God in the souls of my fellow pilgrims to Ghana.

Finally, I thank the people of Ghana.  Thank you for letting me come into your homes, ride on your roads, sense your ministries, and hear your needs. Thank you, too, for letting me enter something of your history. I will remember your joy and your pain, your generosity and your need.

Bishop Jacob prayed several times in his own language during our time there. Of course, I could not tell what he was saying literally, though I felt it spiritually. He did seem to use one word repeatedly, a word that sounded like “berakah.” I asked him later what it meant, because it sounded much like the Hebrew word, “berakah.” He said it meant thanksgiving, just as I suspected, and just as the Hebrew means. Blessing and thanksgiving.

Yes. The people of Ghana have blessed me. The experience of Ghana has blessed me. They have blessed me with thanksgiving and with joy. I hope, now, to bless them. I hope to turn their blessing of me into a blessing to others. Berakah. Thank you. May God bless Ghana, and may God bless us.

GHANA PILGRIMAGE - THURSDAY 25 JULY - TO ELMINA CASTLE

On Thursday, we were up early again, in order to gather, load, and arrange boarding passes for nineteen pilgrims to fly from Tamale to Accra. Our departure time from the lovely Hotel Maryam was set for 6:45 am sharp; once again, all pilgrims made the bell.

At the airport, we waited – surely one of the features common to all travel. It is a feature common to all pilgrimages, too. When I set out on this journey, I knew I would learn more about patience, for patience is part of every pilgrimage. The destination is not the goal; the pilgrimage itself, the journey itself, is the goal. One does not get there without patience. Last Saturday, both my flights – from Atlanta and from New York—were delayed substantially. At JFK, my flight waited on the tarmac for almost two hours and almost turned around to cancel the entire flight. But I made it. Patience. My pilgrimage had begun.

So, on Thursday, we got our boarding passes in due time and proceeded through the security screening process. We knew from our earlier flight that the Ghanaian security process involves not only the typical x-ray machines for luggage and person, but also a brief but thorough hands-on frisking.

However, in spite of the awkward frisking, even the security agents in Ghana display an amazing politeness. I must say that I have never encountered a more courteous security staff than the one at Tamale airport. “Good morning,” smiled the man who would search me. “You’re welcome,” he continued, pre-emptively, “I’m glad you were here.” The woman who had informed me that I had to take off my shoes had the same manner.

Once I got through, I glanced back and worried that my colleague Gay Jennings was being delayed somehow. When she got through, I asked her if everything was alright. “Well,” she said, “when my bag went through, a buzzer went off and they asked if I had any metal inside.” “Metal?” she wondered.

Gay Jennings is President of the Episcopal House of Deputies, and she has been the leader and special guest on our trip. Just after she was elected, she instituted a special honor for persons who have shown distinguished service to the House of Deputies and the Episcopal Church: the House of Deputies Medal. She had brought several along on the trip, to give as gifts to our host bishops and others.

She didn’t have any “metal” except the metal in her “medals.” “Could this be the metal (medal) ?” she asked, and she held up the piece. She began to explain what they were. He held the medal and was curious. “Do you want one?” Gay continued, clearly being as pre-emptively courteous to the agents as they were to her. “Yes!” replied the agent happily, and he immediately placed the medal in his pocket. Gay walked on through, glad that she had brought some extra medals.

I am glad that that Tamale security agent possesses a House of Deputies Medal. I believe he has it, by God’s grace, on behalf of all the courteous Ghanaians we met. (By the way – breaking news flash! – the security agents at JFK terminal 4, where I arrived back the United States, were just as courteous as the Ghanaian agents! Hallelujah!)

Apparently, our Thursday flight also carried one of the local chiefs. As we were waiting in the boarding area, one of his attendants approached several of us and asked that we either sit down or move a bit away from the door, for no one was supposed to enter the door, that is to say, exit the door, on to the tarmac, before the chief. We obliged. The chief was wearing a beautiful customary smock; and draped over one shoulder, like a sort of ceremonial kente cloth, was a New England Patriots scarf.

Our intrepid organizer and protector, Vesta, might not agree that Ghanaians seemed pleasant today. She had had to take on another issue today, and they do arise. As always, Vesta succeeded, and we all got aboard the flight with seats. I would follow Vesta to Antarctica; she is the woman who gets things done.

Once back in Accra, we boarded another bus, and drove another three hours, down the coast to Cape Castle and Elmina. We had a lovely lunch at the Elmina Beach Resort Hotel; we would check into our rooms later.

Then we boarded the bus for Elmina Castle.

I hesitate to add my words to so many that have been written about Elmina Castle – and about the larger Cape Coast Castle, which we would see on Friday. This was the part of our pilgrimage about which I had done more preliminary reading. These two places were, for many Africans, the last places on their home continent they would ever see. The castles contain dungeons, cells, wretched and horrible holding caverns where slaves spent their last weeks, chained nakedly and closely together, waiting for the boats that would take them across the Atlantic Ocean – the Middle Passage, part of the atrocious Atlantic Slave Trade.

I shouldn’t use the word “waiting.” My sense of their agony is that they would not have been able to “wait” for anything. “Waiting” might imply some hope. Their plight looked as close to hopeless as any I have ever known.

It was probably appropriate that our day was hot and humid. I was uncomfortable both emotionally and physically down in the dungeons, hearing first about the female dungeon and situation. We heard how the governor of the castle would systematically abuse selected women. We walked through the male dungeons and saw the tiny, tiny outlets for any air or light, often one tiny “window” per room.

We heard of the squalor, the abuse, the sheer horror of existence there; again, I hesitate to use the word “life” for what they experienced there. It was appropriate that we were sweating ourselves: a very, very small price for us to pay for admission to this holy place.

Was it a holy place? I hesitate to use that word, too.

We walked down the tunnel that would take slaves, both male and female, to the door of no return. We gathered in that last room and looked out the iron gate to the ocean. I have often considered a view of the ocean as a sign of exhilaration and hope; this view, I realized, was one of horror and dread for outgoing slaves. They probably knew that boat conditions were more devastating than the dungeon conditions.

As our Episcopal Relief and Development group laid a wreath in that place, I was the one asked to pray. I had no idea, and I still have little idea, how to pray in such an agonizing place. We laid the wreath in honor and in memory of those who had been there before – those who had died there and those who had passed through. We gathered in the name of remembrance, for sure. But we also gathered in the name of horror and suffering and pain.

I finally used the word “witness.” Other words might work, too. But, for me, we were there to witness that place. We must give witness to it. We must see the truth and acknowledge it, certainly before any effective restoration and redemption might occur. By “witness,” however, I also mean the witness of the Africans who died and passed through there; in Greek, the word for “witness” is “martyr.” The slave castles are places of witness, places of martyrdom.

But the other word for me is “mercy.” “Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy,” we prayed. Have mercy on the sweet souls who passed through this place, have mercy on us who witness, have mercy on all of us who work to overcome unjust conditions in our own time. For, surely, the effects of that slave trade, and of its associated racism, still exist in our world today. They exist in my world.

Finally, of course, God might just speak to us in the silence which we allow ourselves in these places of suffering and tragic inhumanity. Every word, at some point, fails when I try to describe, or pray about, humanity’s inhumanity to others. Every word falls short, at some point.

But, yes, I do believe the place is holy. Elmina and Cape Coast Castles are both holy, sacred places of pilgrimage for those who must give witness. Indeed, holiness must exist in places where human beings have suffered. It is a tragic part of our human history; and, if God is not present in suffering, then God is not present anywhere. Again, if God is not present in human suffering, then God is not present anywhere.

Sweet and healthy human beings suffered agonizingly at Elmina and at Cape Coast; they must be holy places. When words fail, all I have left is God. Even if it is the silence of God.

Later on Thursday, I had good conversations with several of my colleagues about Elmina Castle, about the systems of racism and of privilege that still exist in the United States, too. Other colleagues had similar conversations. Thursday, visiting Elmina Castle, was a holy day.

GHANA PILGRIMAGE - WEDNESDAY 24 JULY

I woke up quickly at 4:00 am on Wednesday, having sensed a flash of light outside. Surely that’s not lightning, I thought. When I opened the window, however, and peered out across the trees, I did indeed see lightning; and I felt the wind picking up dramatically. Within a few minutes, the wind was quite strong. When it blew through the leaks around the seals of our windows, the wind sang like a hurricane. Rain followed. It would stay with us most of the day.

Because of that rain, we enjoyed one of our less hurried mornings. We would stay at the offices of ADDRO for an hour, until around 10:00 am, to see if the rain would stop and if the village would be able to accommodate us. Regrettably, it looked like the rain would prohibit us and the bus from visiting some places.

Fortunately, however, the rain was also a blessing to the farmers and villages. That land needs the rain to come. The crops need the rain. The lives of these Ghanaians need the rain. The Ghana pilgrims sat around the place, and talked or checked messages or wrote or read. And, of course, some played Bananagrams. The rain continued, often in heavier downpours; where I sat protected under the porch roof, the rain was actually quite pleasant.

Then, despite the rain, we made our departure, raincoats and parkas donned. On the bus again, we made our way up the road northward. The potholes were now full of water, and the road was a muddy and broken up mess. Our intrepid bus driver forayed on.

We were on our way to Yelwoko, another village in that area; but we were headed especially to the Yelwoko Anglican Women’s Development Centre. Rob Radtke told us later that there is a new service or project there every time he visits. Our first stop was inside a low-roofed, small house, with a new mill in it. Having walked a few minutes in the rain to get there, we huddled inside and the rain sounded stronger on that metal roof.

We were shown one of the newer modern mill devices, which the women can use to mill both millet and rice. But its use with rice is especially helpful, said the main woman, because it can remove the husks of the rice, too. It is a sought after mill.

From there, we walked to a large set of buildings, where the women of the area had set up displays for us. We saw various textiles and crafts (some of which we would purchase later), and we saw the sewing patterns which the teacher used with her students. Then, one of the village women gave us quite a detailed explanation of how shea butter is made. We saw a bowl of shea nuts, then a bowl of crushed shea nuts, then a bowl of roasted shea nuts, then some sort of shea mixture, and finally the finished product of rich, creamy shea butter. Some of our number seemed to be salivating over it! 

Across the way, several seamstress students, all dressed in pink, were sitting at their beautiful sewing machines. Those girls, too, were pleased to have their photographs taken.

The Durbar, celebrating our arrival, had had to be modified to accommodate the rain. We would not be able to see some projects; and some performances and guests could not be there. But every teacher and guide and host was also thankful for the rain. The main project manager thanked us, actually, for having brought the rain!

It turned out that there was one performance group who were not deterred by the rain. The Boya dancers did arrive. With steady rhythm they thrilled both us and their friends with dramatic feet and muscle and jumping movement. Many of us were eager to reward their performance with currency, which they appreciated. Then, Bishop Jacob was persuaded to join them. In fact, I believe Bishop Jacob was quite eager to join them. He performed the same dance they had started with, and he was magnificent.

As we left that afternoon, I felt sad that we were leaving such happy and familiar territory. I know I have not experienced some of the pain and suffering of this place, but I do know some of its character. I have enjoyed these dances, these patterns, these paths, these trees, these crops and vendors and schools, these dirt roads, these beautiful people. They have shown me something of holiness, full of rhythm and tradition, full of love and respect. I am honored to have been here.

Back on the bus, again we drove back to Bolgatanga for a quick lunch and then the much longer drive back to Tamale. This last time, the pot-holed road was even more full of mud and water, and the teakwood areas were wet. We waved at the checkpoints again. We crossed the Black Volta River again. I was not only accustomed to this place; I was going to miss it.

One more thing: the good people on the staff of ADDRO were magnificent. I feel like Theo, and Hillary, and Emmanuel, have become friends. Bishop Jacob delivered some kind closing remarks, and we enjoyed his blessing. Then, we said our good-byes at the ADDRO offices, we took photographs, and we climbed aboard the bus which had been our steady transport for the past two days. It was time to drive two and a half hours back to Tamale, where we would spend a quick night and rise early in order to fly back to Accra.