Can I tag a post from here?

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While the 'hallway track' at Edinburgh was exciting in a superficial way -- meeting, eating with and rubbing shoulders with big names in theology and mission -- the hallway track in Melbourne has more of a sense of helping me go forward with what I have brought back from Edinburgh. I was able to catch up with some of the academics who have supported me, and made a few appointments to talk about where I might be heading with theology. I have more concrete ideas about papers I could write for and about the Edinburgh study process. This conference has been a kind of academic homecoming: I am starting to find a space where I can reflect on the experiences of Edinburgh in my own context, and I have yet more evidence that thinking and talking about church and theology is (though I may come to regret these words) my inescapable vocation.

I don't know where this leaves the nearly ten years I spent in public health research or my current work in digital humanities. It's the work that I have to do for now, and it stretches my mind in different ways. I hope these have not been ten wasted years.

I have identified ‘silence and being silenced’ as an underlying theme and potential problem in the Edinburgh 2010
conference (not to mention other areas of the church, e.g. the
Anglican Communion). I see now that I am not alone in publicly stating
this concern, and that in itself is cause for hope. The right response
to oppressive or fearful silence is, as Bp Mor Coorilos said, to name
our demons.

My concerns about the process of producing a ‘common call'
overshadowed the fruitful discussion that preceded it at the final
plenary of the conference. At this session, individual 'reflectors'
gave us feedback on what they observed throughout the conference.
Anastasia Vassiliadou emphasised the importance of dialogue and
openness, and asked us all to allow ourselves to remain uncomfortable
with each other across our differences, and to risk vulnerability,
that we might be able to listen to the Holy Spirit among us. Vinoth
Ramachandra was blunt in naming the absence and invisibility of lay
people and non-academics, of 'ordinary’ Christians and contexts of
mission. In this respect, the 2010 gathering was as burdened by
clericalism and professionalism as the 1910 gathering was. Stephen
Bevans expressed feelings of hope — at perhaps being present with
emerging leaders of the church (yes, there were a few young people
present!); surprise — at the many face-to-face meetings and
encounters; and lament — for more diverse voices, and for more
dancing (as a sign of the ecumenical movement).

In addition, we heard from a listening group of (?) nine people whose
task was to observe the proceedings of each study theme and reflect
what they observed. The chair of the group began by reminding us of
Benedict’s call to listen as the heart of his Rule. I felt that the
distinctive voice of monastic missionaries had been absent in the
conference, and I have my own interest in what Benedict can say about
mission, so I was glad to hear this brought to the attention of the
whole conference.

I keep referring to the sense that this conference is only one
stepping stone in an ongoing process of re-evaluating mission, a
process that must engage the whole church at both global and local
levels. Two weeks on, the initial enthusiasm and disappointment of the
conference are being replaced by the seeds of this re-evaluation, for
myself and in reading the responses of others. Along with immediate
reports and interviews from the conference, church news agencies have
begun publishing more reflective evaluations, such as that of youth
essay competition winner Andrew Thompson (who makes similar observations to mine). Another outcome is the
recommendation of the Commission on World Mission and Evangelism
(which met immediately after Edinburgh 2010) for ‘an overhaul of the
ecumenical understanding of Christian mission’.

I was nominated for the conference by a network of mission scholars
and ecumenical leaders, and my responses to the conference will mostly
take place in those contexts. I already have ideas for articles and
talks, in addition to a fuller development of my conference talk. I
must take care not to confine my lessons from Edinburgh 2010 to
scholarly journals, conferences and committees, and I have yet to work
out what I can bring to the wider church. As with other experiences of
church and study, at Edinburgh I often felt invisible, as a young lay
person without advanced research degrees. I must not forget this
feeling of invisibility.

I did not leave Australia between 1989 and 2002. Since 2002 I have
travelled more frequently, and have gone overseas on average once
every two years; but now, for the first time, I have made two separate
overseas trips in the space of six months. This last trip was an
intense combination of study/conference, sightseeing, and work. Flying
has become almost an ordinary routine, and I no longer find customs/ immigration desks intimidating. Neither am I excited about
accumulating stamps in my passport. I think I am becoming a frequent
traveller.

England, especially London, always felt like a dream destination. It
is the origin of so much of my personal identity, culture, and values.
I imagine this is what ‘home’ meant for so many colonial expatriates,
and indeed for colonial subjects such as my grandmother and some of my
more distant relatives. I would not say that it was an anticlimax when
I finally went to England for the first time, but I did not find value
where I expected to. I was perhaps too ambitious in ticking monuments
and buildings off an imaginary checklist, and reached history overload
early.

I think it says something that I spent last Sunday morning not in
Westminster Abbey or St Paul’s Cathedral, but in Southwark cathedral, younger than the other two and focused as much on active mission
today as on its (not insignificant) history. I had to attend eucharist
not in a monument but in a living church, and I went to Southwark to
be in the presence of one of the few bishops I genuinely respect.
That, in a sense, is how I experienced England: when I actually got
there, I was really less interested in old buildings (though they have
their attractions) than in briefly sharing the lives of people in
today’s world.

My major overseas trips have become progressively less strange and
more integrated with normal life. Singapore is in a class of its own
because I was born there. India (2006) was unavoidably strange. The
USA and Canada (2008) were like neighbours who were a little different
but not in significant ways. England and Scotland were like the memory
of a long-lost home. I hope and expect to return to the UK and North
America, not primarily as a tourist but as part of my working life.