Spong, who retired as bishop of Newark in 2000, has a radically different take. "When Katherine came into our diocese," he recalls, "she was just a vital human being — very popular with other clergy, active in the political maneuvering of [the annual Episcopalian General Convention], frequently on her feet on the floor talking. She had enormous intellectual capacity. I think she'll be a spectacular dean."
What's more, Spong contends, Ragsdale's appointment at EDS demonstrates that the issue of gay rights is essentially settled, once and for all, in the Episcopal Church. "In my opinion," he says, "the battle over gay equality has been over a long time. It's just that religious and political forces keep it alive, for various reasons. But that battle's over."
These divergent arguments have one thing in common — namely, an implicit suggestion that, at this particular point in the history of Anglicanism and Episcopalianism, it's a waste of time for conservatives and liberals to seek common ground. This same belief seems to be held by Brett Donham, the chair of EDS's board of trustees, who dismisses anti-Ragsdale animus as the work of a few retrograde malcontents.
"We don't pay a lot of attention, because it's a few people, and they're so off point as to where the Episcopal Church is headed," Donham tells the Phoenix. "The Episcopal Church and Episcopal Divinity School have a mission of justice, compassion, and reconciliation. The ability to walk with different groups, talk with them, live with them — even though we have some disagreements — is central to what the Episcopal Church is about. The rabid right simply isn't interested in engaging in conversation. So we don't."
All of which suggests that Ragsdale, far from being pressured to moderate her views or her rhetoric as she settles into her new post, will instead have free rein to speak as aggressively and provocatively as she did on that day in Alabama two years ago. And she seems to be planning accordingly.
"EDS is the place that has always led the [Episcopal] Church in the world," says Ragsdale. "It's always been a couple steps ahead in supporting the ordination of women, supporting the full inclusion of gay and lesbian people, before that, supporting racial equity. It's never been so far out that it's not part of the church — but it's always been there, pulling the rest of the church along."
"We're at a dangerous point right now," she adds, "where it's easy for people to say, 'We've elected a black president, so there's no more racism. A woman almost won, so there's no more sexism. Gays and lesbians can get married in Iowa — no more problems there.'
"In reality, none of those problems have been solved. It's wonderful that we've been able to do all those things, and that shows tremendous progress, but they haven't been solved — and they're all connected in some ways. There's still this interlocking desire not to celebrate the full humanity of all the people of God. And I think EDS is in a position to continue its role of pointing that out, and pushing the church not to be complacent."
Tiller's murder, meanwhile, only seems to have deepened Ragsdale's conviction that the battle for abortion rights is exactly that: a battle.
"I knew George Tiller; in fact, I was out to defend his clinic some time ago," Ragsdale told me on Monday, a few hours before she led a vigil in Tiller's memory at St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral. "He was an extraordinary man, deeply spiritual, who put his life on the line every day because this is what he felt called by God to do. Women needed him; there were so few places for them to get the necessary care. So the profound grief, and the fury and outrage, and the question of how women get the care they need now . . . these things are at war with one another as I try to find words to express them all.
"Even though I disagree with [abortion opponents] engaged in the common-ground talks, I don't want to tar them with the same brush as the people responsible for this violence," added Ragsdale. "But I also don't want to exonerate a host of people who are responsible, even though they never pulled the trigger. And if you want to know who they are, look at the ones who ran most quickly to publish press releases trying to distance themselves from [Tiller's murder]. It's the guys who called him 'Tiller the Baby Killer' " — e.g., Fox News' Bill O'Reilly. "It's the ones who said he ran an abortion mill, and protested outside his clinic. They're the ones who created a climate that made violence inevitable."
Adam Reilly can be reached at areilly@thephoenix.com.
Editor's Note: In a previous version of this article Rowan Williams was misidentified as Rowan Williamson. The correction has been made above.
