Many of us in the Diocese of Virginia were shocked this week to hear of the death of our chancellor Russ Palmore. Russ was not only the legal counsel for the Diocese, he was also our parliamentarian, our canon lawyer, an indefatigable advocate and friend. I was privileged to serve as a deputy to General Convention with him the past three conventions, and was very much looking forward to do the same in Indianapolis in 2012. Russ was my mentor during those times, and he helped make some very confusing experiences understandable, even fun. I will forever be indebted to his expertise, but what I most admire him for was his ability to make me feel that it was the quirkiness of the issues, not my own thick-headedness that caused my discombobulation.
Another thing Russ and I had in common was a love for baseball. Since General Convention happens in July, and in major metropolitan areas Russ and I attended several major leagues games together. We both delighted in the process of keeping a score card for the games, a practice which has become, regrettably passe in these days.
Now for those of you who are at a loss as to what I am talking about, the practice of keeping score goes like this. First one has to get to the stadium a little early, preferably during batting practice. This gives enough time to procure the score card from a vendor, now-a-days this often this requires buying a five dollar program, although in some ballparks one can still buy just the card for fifty cents (they often throw in a stubby, eraser-less pencil for free). Getting to one's seat early is important so that there is time to enter the line-up in the card. All crucial data, jersey number, batting order, and playing position is entered on the card. Then there is a kind of baseball short hand that describes each play of the game; hits, ground outs, home runs. On the score card there are tiny boxes where the scorer inserts the symbols. Although there are universal symbols, many scorers adapt and create their own short-hand.
Sitting next to Russ at the game was fun, very much like sitting next to him at Convention. Every now and then I would non-nonchalantly glance at Russ' card. It was impeccable! I suppose I ought to start by describing my cards—they are always a mess. Pencil lines swerve into adjacent boxes, often making it hard to remember the action, even two innings later. I am notorious for starting an inning off on the wrong line, messing everything up. I scrawl an ongoing commentary in the margins (beautiful puffy clouds, glorious golden medallion moon, really obnoxious fans right behind me need to shut up!).
Russ' scorecards were works of art, really. I am sure that five hundred years from now if an archeologist found a Russ Palmore scorecard he could tell you play by play exactly what happened. There were obvious and significant differences in my cards and Russ.' Could you say that one was better than the other? I don't think so, just that one style would appeal to some, and visa versa. Maybe one way of doing the scorecard actually enriches the other. Read Russ' card and you get an accurate pitch count, read mine and you learn about the really drunk guy who spilled beer all over the biker in front of him.
Thinking about archeologists makes me think about the Hebrew Bible. Most students of the Bible these days believe that it was written by a number of authors. They have figured this out, in large part, because the writers have very different styles. Some emphasize the historical facts of the times, genealogies, laws, ritual practices. Some tell stories, depictions of the great heroes, like Samson, or Jael. Whether these stories are true or not doesn't seem to be the point.
So, I'm thinking, there is a reason why the Bible was written by different types of authors. There is a fullness, a richness to the variety of styles. The Bible would not be the Bible if it was uniform. What Russ Palmore taught me was that the same is true in church-person-ship too. Without the multiplicity of perspectives that the Episcopal Church seems to want to hold in tension it would be a much poorer entity, for sure. Russ must have seen my messy scorecards, he never said a word, he wouldn't have, he was much to much a gentleman. I hope they made him smile, he was a fan who delighted in the differences.
