PITY THE POOR SYNOD!

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVI, Issue 11200, 21 October 1899, Page 1 (Supplement)

PITY THE POOR SYNOD!

[by layman.]

It is incredible. The Diocesan Synod is in reduced circumstances. It is now on the parish. It is curious that good folks who have kept their heads above water for 40 years should at last be forced to apply for charitable aid. The Union is not strength. And if the Parish of Parnell— the parish par excellence, the Mayfair of

Maoriland— not had drowsing room for the clerical and lay fathers, what would have happened to them? It is difficult to say, but most probably they would have been shelved. Indeed, they have been shelved already; and in this way The first Anglioin Conference was held in a church, now translated, built on a spot now difficult \to identify, and the first Synod was held in Wellington. The lesson of this is clear. The primal meetings of the Anglican patriarchs having been held not in the library at Bishopscourt, that is the right place for modern meetings, in order that the continuance of local tradition and the genius loci may be maintained. As Bishop Selwyn discussed tho constitution of the Anglican Church in the colony elsewhere, it is evident to the dullest mind that it would be disrespectful to his memory to discuss the to-day affairs of that body anywhere else than in the place in which he did not at first discuss them. This much is clear, consecutive, loyal, limping. Bishopscourt is the place for the Synod, because it holds and hands down memories everyone remembers it never possessed. There was once a Holy Roman Empire which had three drawbacks—it wasn't holy, it wasn't Roman, it wasn't an empire. In like manner, the claims of the library for paramountcy are perfect, with only three obstaclesnot Sehvynian, not traditional, not a library. This is what has happened. By an effort of energy and thought hitherto unprecedented in these parts, a conglomeration of valuable books up to now the intended prey of ecclesiastical bookworms and other invertebrates has been dusted, described, catalogued, just as if it were something secular. Of course, allowances, if necessary, have, perhaps, been made for books that have gone to (not) their Own place, and rest in private collections, if indeed there be private collections of these things. Now, those that are left of them are ranked in the order of reading as intended by Bishop Selwyn. Fancy Bishop Selwyn caring how a shelf was arranged; if it only contained real books, there were real men to read them! But these shelves are parricidal. They are so Sehvynian that they have killed the Selwyn tradition. This is the exegesis of it. Till to-day the bookshelves had not been arranged as the Bishop of New Zealand at first arranged them. They have now been restored to primitive order. And with what result? That the neglected laager of books was not according to the intention of Bishop Selwyn, and now that vit puts on the appearance of a library it is 110 longer traditional. The Selwyn arrangement makes the room unfit for meetings to perpetuate the Selwyn feeling. This is like the argument of good Protestants Ritualists are so Roman that they won't go to Rome lest their freedom in Romanising might be curbed. The Synod, in fact, has Men on evil days. Having been dusted out of Bishopscourt, it has now been taken in by the vicar of St. Mary's. It is not, of course, meant that the prodecanus—no, the dean of the Pro-Cathedral—has driven an unfair bargain ; lie has only given a temporary restingplace to collationlcss clerics and faithful laity jejunely loitering. But the change is regretful. The library was an [esthetic convenient place. It was so easy there to listen musingly to speeches that could not be heard, and the physical conditions of the "dure" gave vast opportunities of darkly dodging round inconvenient things. How often has some young cleric, not quite sure of himself in his maiden speech, been seen nervliusly seeking support from a kindly pillar—a sort of descended St. Simeon Stylites posing as Apollo; or some rural archdeacon, forgetful of his theology, escaping the eagle eye of the president by retreating behind the sheltering works of Anglican theologians preserved from the greedy bookworm by the web of the parlourparty insect. Indeed, graver things than this have happened. It has been asserted on good authority that a high Church dignitary has been known to settle himself quietly behind a shelf, in angulo cum libello, like the monk of Eempen, and through a whole sederunt quietly study a book on Natural Knowledge, " just to pass the time while all those fellows are talking like anything." But there are now no cosy, quiet corners, and the bare walls of the parish building but accentuate a kindlier past. The malless floors, the gaunt array of unfurnished furnishings, the windy gusts—all call up drear pictures of unlovely charity. And worst of all,' there is room for the public. In the past days there were a few seats for mothers in Israel, who, while keeping half an ear for heresy, had much edifying conversation about social items and the ritual of the service of the high priest Worth, while bookshelves and presses formed a pleasing high seat for youth, whose dangling soles could find no rest. All this is passed away, and synodal affairs are reduced to a tedious sameness foreign to the spirit of tho Anglican Church, which derives so much of its strength from incoherences, contradictions, and incongruities, all helpful, pleasing, characteristic —characteristic of a Church that is national but partial, Catholic but local, in mould monarchial, in disobedience democratic. And the Anglican Church is strong from that inward strength that cares not for the eager enemy or the fussing friend—selfknowledge—yes, self-knowledge and that self-possession and reserve-power that mark all well-bred people and all institutions with a great historic past and a future full of hope, earnest but restrained. Of people and public bodies it is equally true that " le gentilhomme est toujours gentilhomme." '! Finally, the Anglican Synod always displays that eminently Christian, and what is more, aristocratic virtue, polite thankfulness. A ! nod never closes without almost unending thanks to all— those who have perhaps done something, to those who have been prevented from doing anything by intending the impossible. But even the Syi.od, being partly human, is in part imperfect. A deserving person has been overlooked. There is a gentleman who usually puts on an indigo coat for full dress. Why has no one proposed a vote of thanks to him for his armed, but considerate, neitrahty?