Tom Ely’s friendship came into my life feeling like unmerited grace, precious and fleeting. At my first House of Bishops meeting the spring of 2018, he and a group of veterans found me assigned to their table and elected to welcome me warmly and show me the secrets. The substance of the House’s work was vitally important to Tom. He paid close attention to every item on the agenda. That summer, during our General Convention in Austin, we had a lot of resolutions on Israel and Palestine. When I cast a pro-Palestinian vote after having cast a pro-Israel one, he noted the discrepancy with an arched eyebrow and an encouraging word.Bishop of Vermont from 2001 to 2019, Tom’s consistent advocacy for what has now become a core value of The Episcopal Church, marriage equity, is reckoned to have been indispensable. At that historic convention, he was pleased when I accepted Susan Russell’s invitation to speak up for the cause at an important committee meeting. Susan and he and their collaborators were in the process of fashioning a deft compromise that put us on the side of the dignity of every human being while keeping conservative bishops in the fold.
Tom enfolding me in the running bishops’ poker game was another gift. I’ll never forget his growly, kind voice when he issued the invitation. He only called relatively obscure games like High Chicago and Follow the Queen, patiently reminding other neophytes and me of the rules and indulging me when, as dealer, all I could think of was five card draw, aces high.
When Tom was diagnosed with cancer, you could feel the church’s heart breaking. His CaringBridge reports about his treatment, travels with Ann and their family, amateur theatrics, and golf outings pastored to us, keeping us hoping and praying. Last summer, I visited Chimayó in New Mexico and asked permission to FedEx him a vial of holy dirt, which he granted, no doubt for my sake more than his.
CaringBridge has been too quiet for the last few weeks. The news of his death yesterday was not entirely surprising and so, so sad. New friendships later in life are poignant, quickening one’s faith in our ultimate reunion in Christ, who always surprises us with the unexpected rounds he calls.