Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter
Twenty-Six
“Father Webber, I know you’re aware of the
serious plight of the Anglican Communion.” Dr. Berton was
technically a priest, but Mark wasn’t sure if he’d ever worked in a
parish. Instead, he spent his time overseeing and regulating the
other priests of the diocese under the approving gaze of the
bishop. Now, he had Mark in his crosshairs. “You’re aware that the
worldwide communion is at risk of fracturing. You’re aware that
even within Canada we are losing parishes. You’re aware that a
central cause of all this is controversy over our policies on
homosexuality and the place of homosexuals in the church.”
“I’m aware.” There wasn’t much else to say,
and anything Mark did say seemed likely to prolong the
conversation.
“And being aware of all this, you
nevertheless ignored your rector’s excellent decision to distance
you from the disgruntled parishioner.”
“He’s not a parishioner. I don’t know if he’s
a member of any church, but he’s certainly not part of our
congregation.”
Amanda Tisdale, the church’s lawyer, spoke
up. “Does that detail seem important to you?”
“Maybe. Because if he was a member of the
church, I would have had a chance to build a relationship with him,
and he would have known me well enough to know that I would never
encourage a straight or merely questioning young man to identify
himself as gay.”
“But you would encourage a gay young man to
‘identify himself’ that way?” Berton leaned forward as if the
answer to this question would make everything clear.
“Identify himself? To himself?
Absolutely I would. Self-knowledge is an important quality, and for
gay teens especially it can be truly cathartic to finally use the
word and acknowledge that aspect of themselves.”
Tisdale took her turn. “And what about
publicly? Would you encourage a sixteen-year-old who had
self-identified as gay to come out of the closet? More importantly,
did you do so in this case?”
“That’s seriously something that we can be
sued for?”
“Probably not. But Mr. Wilson seems
interested in finding some legal grounds for complaining, and we’re
trying to cover all our bases.” Tisdale seemed slightly more
sympathetic than Berton, who was still scowling at Mark.
“What we’re really trying to figure out,”
Berton said, “Is just how much we’re going to have to pay Mr.
Wilson to keep him from making his complaints public. Because the
last thing the church needs right now is a public accusation that
we are somehow seducing young men into homosexuality.”
“Recruiting,” Tisdale said, her voice
clipped. “Even in the privacy of this office, let’s not use the
word ‘seduce’.”
“I wasn’t doing either,” Mark protested. “I
don’t remember word for word what I said in this case, but
generally I tell kids that it has to be their decision whether to
come out or not. About the only pressure I put on them is to keep
in touch with me or another caring adult. Well, that and I often
try to connect them with other gay teens, either at the local
community center or online.”
“Don’t get me started on the ‘online’
business,” Berton said. “You’re aware that Mr. Wilson wants to have
your e-mail records subpoenaed to look for evidence that you sent
his son links to internet pornography?”
“What?” Mark sputtered. “I don’t even…no,
wait, I did send him an e-mail once. With a link to a chat group
for gay teens.”
“And who moderates the chat? Who screens the
participants to ensure that they are all indeed gay teens and not
predatory adults?”
Berton’s gaze was intent, and Mark felt his
stomach churn. His intentions were pure, but if someone wanted to
make him look bad? If someone was willing to look at every one of
his actions with a high-powered magnifying glass? He could be in
trouble. “I don’t know,” he confessed, and apparently that was what
Berton had been looking for.
“We’re running our internal investigation,
and our legal counsel will advise you if you wish.” Berton shook
his head. “But until this is cleared up, you’re on paid leave from
your position. If you wish to spend time at one of our retreats, we
will support you as you seek wisdom. But you are not to perform any
duties as a priest of the Anglican church, not until this is
resolved. At that time, there will be a review of your position and
placement.”
“You should probably get your own lawyer,”
Tisdale added. “To be safe.”
“A review?” Mark tried to think. “Wait, how
long do you think the investigation is going to take? And…my own
lawyer? Do I need that?”
“I strongly advise it,” Tisdale said firmly.
“I don’t see criminal charges arising from this, but you never
know. And in other matters…” She paused and waited for his full
attention before saying, “Your interests and the interests of the
church may not line up as completely as you would hope.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “You’re
saying they might throw me under the bus?”
But Tisdale raised her hands in disavowal.
“They will support you as far as is required by employment law, and
they will support you beyond that as long as they feel that is it
in the best interests of the church as a whole to do so. Do you
understand?”
“I need my own lawyer,” he said dully.
“You do.” Her voice was softer now. “I don’t
think we’re doubting your good intentions, Father Webber. But as
Dr. Berton said, the church is in a very precarious position right
now. Mr. Wilson has given every sign that he plans to make a big
deal out of this, and the church does not want that.”
“If you’d let your rector handle it we
wouldn’t be in this mess.” Berton’s smugness was beginning to wear
on Mark’s temper.
“I got a call. Alex wanted to talk to me. He
wasn’t going to talk to Terry, and he wasn’t going to talk to his
dad. He needed help, so I did what I could.” He leaned back in his
chair and addressed himself to Tisdale, ignoring Berton as
completely as he could. “I understand that it probably wasn’t the
way the church would have wanted things handled. But I did nothing
to endanger the kid, and it’s all worked out well. He’s been in his
new home for almost a week, and he’s happy. It’s a good
ending.”
“I’m sorry, Father Webber, but…I don’t think
we’re at the end. Not yet.” And they weren’t. Tisdale started
shuffling papers, having Mark sign things, asking more questions,
and it ended up being more than two hours before he made it out of
the office building.
His head was spinning as he slunk out to the
parking lot. Terry was waiting in the car for him, and one look at
the older man’s face made it clear that he knew what Mark had been
told in the meeting. He’d probably known all day, and that was why
he’d insisted on driving Mark down to the city himself. There had
been a few tense moments when Terry had first learned about Mark’s
disobedience but the older priest was a forgiving man and had
obviously chosen to support his protégé despite their
differences.
Mark was just glad to see a friendly face. He
slid into the passenger seat, shut the door, and closed his
eyes.
They sat in silence for a while, and then
Terry said, “It’s a volatile time for the church.” He didn’t turn
the car on. “They’re scrambling to survive. They’re not afraid of
the lawsuit, they’re afraid of the publicity.” He shifted in his
seat and Mark opened his eyes to see his friend looking at him
intently. “You’ve got to look at this in the larger context. And
you’ve got to consider that maybe this is…maybe they’re jumping on
this harder than they need to because they want to put some
pressure on you. Maybe, given the incredibly delicate balancing act
they’re doing, they don’t need one of their own rocking the boat.
They might not want a gay priest insisting on things moving faster
than they want them to move.”
Mark blinked once, then again, and Terry
waited patiently. “You’re saying this is about more than Mr.
Wilson? This is part of some plan to get rid of me?”
Terry shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Maybe
I shouldn’t have said anything, but I wanted you to understand. I
wanted you to realize there’s always larger forces at work. The
Anglican church used to rival the crown for power in England and
there’s still always a political side to anything that happens at
the higher levels. They’re working so hard to avoid a full schism
with the more conservative churches that I don’t think they’re
focusing on much else at all.” He sighed. “I think you were right,
back in the spring. You should have been the one to be named to the
Inclusion and Equity panel. Andrew Sealy didn’t even want the job,
and he’s overloaded with committee work as it is. When they chose
him…it wasn’t a good sign, Mark.”
“They can’t fire me for being gay.” He
sounded like a little boy protesting some unfairness on the
playground, but still, he knew his rights.
“No, they can’t. They can’t do much to you,
really, not without destroying that same delicate balance that
they’ve been trying to preserve. But Mark, what if they transferred
you to a job where you weren’t able to work with parishioners?
Somewhere in the bureaucracy, doing paperwork all day? They’d be
following the rules, not giving the more liberal parishes anything
to complain about, but…”
Mark felt as if he’d been punched. He’d be
miserable working in an office all day, without having the
opportunity to help people. But even worse than contemplating that
bleak future was the possibility that this might be something that
the church would do to him deliberately. Sure, there were times
when he’d been impatient with his superiors and with the glacial
speed with which change was coming, but his impatience had never
been enough to shake his loyalty. He’d fought to make the church
better because he loved it. There was a roiling knot in his stomach
at the thought that his love was not returned.
“It’s speculation.” Terry spoke quietly. “I
probably shouldn’t have said anything. But I wanted you to think
about it. If you decide that you want to be…quieter. More obedient.
I think I can make a case with the bishop that you should be given
another chance. But I think you really need to think about it all.
Can you be the priest you want to be if you’re not speaking out on
the issues you care about? How much are you willing to give up to
stay in the position you want?”
It was a good question, and one for which
Mark had no answer. It was terrifying to think that he might have
to find one sometime soon.