c. 1998 Religion News Service

NEW YORK _ From the parlor of his elegant townhouse in Greenwich Village, Paul Moore, the 78-year-old former Episcopal bishop of New York, pauses as he ponders the role of his church in the approaching millennium.

At nearly 6 feet 5 inches, with a full shock of white hair and a fit physique belying his years, Moore still cuts the imposing, patrician figure he has throughout his long ecclesiastical career that often put him in the thick of some of the most turbulent times in both church and society.

And so before offering his thoughs on the direction of his troubled denomination, Moore had a few things to say about his nation’s recent past _ none of it particularly encouraging.

He’s still discouraged about the negative impact of the Reagan years on America, the dismantling of social programs he helped build, increasing racial tensions and the widening rift between the haves and the have nots, he said.

The”surge of activism”both outside and inside the church that helped galvanize the civil rights and peace movements of the 1960s and ’70s has subsided, Moore said.”There’s no deep dynamic. People are worse off, especially in the inner cities, and no one is organizing. I don’t understand why people are just lying back.” Moore, who retired from the active clergy in 1989 but has never stopped crusading for human rights, said the welfare reform laws now being implemented will only make the situation worse, and that is all the more reason for the church to remain vigilant in supporting the rights of the poor and oppressed.”The church must continue to act for social justice even if we feel that it might destroy the church,”he said.”That’s what Jesus did. He showed that through persecution and struggle comes new life. Look at the surprises in South Africa, where there was enormous change without bloodshed.” Moore reflected on a half century of church-centered activism in his recently published memoir”Presences: A Bishop’s Life in the City”(Farrar, Straus & Giroux).

The book traces his life from a silver-spoon upbringing in New Jersey to conversion at boarding school, to his stint as a Marine Corps officer during World War II and his decision to choose the ministry as his vocation.

But for the most part, the book concentrates on Moore’s personal mission of conscience, one that planted him firmly in the front lines of human rights causes, first as a young minister trying to resuscitate an inner-city parish in Jersey City in the 1950s and later lobbying for peace as part of goodwill delegations to global hot spots.

As one of the nation’s most outspoken religious leaders during the turbulent ’60s and ’70s, Moore played a key role in reshaping the Episcopal Church, coaxing it out of its insular, blue-blood roots and into an integrated political force.

Not that other church leaders necessarily supported his often radical ideas. While serving in Washington, D.C., his efforts to restore home rule for the citizens of the nation’s capital led to a near censure by other Washington Episcopalians for his activism. And that was just the first time he ran afoul of church authorities.”I was never quite outside the envelope,”he said,”but I pushed it hard.” Later, Moore would again be at center stage as heated battles erupted between conservative and liberal wings of the church over the issue of whether to ordain homosexuals and women.

In 1980, as suffragan bishop of Washington, Moore ordained a lesbian to the priesthood _ one of the first gay ordinations in a denomination still struggling over the issue. The outcry, he recalled, was tremendous, forcing him to hire an assistant to handle the flood of mail. He narrowly escaped another censure effort.

But Moore, the father of nine, has always thrived on going against the grain and continues today in his efforts to improve human rights, lately focusing on East Timor.

Last October, Moore and his wife traveled halfway around the world to join 30,000 Catholics on a pilgrimage up Mt. Ramolo, East Timor’s highest peak, in honor of the Virgin Mary.

It was part of a movement led by Nobel Prize winner Bishop Carlos Ximenes Belo to invigorate morale and refresh the faith of the Timorese youth, Moore said. East Timor is under military occupation and fighting for autonomy from Indonesia.

Moore, whose connection with the South Pacific dates to his days as a commanding Marine officer at Guadalcanal, was in East Timor as a witness for Human Rights Watch.

Organizers anticipated violence, as often occurs during huge religious events in East Timor, and attacks are believed to be instigated by the Indonesian authorities.

As predicted, halfway up the mountain a man armed with a knife attacked and killed a worshipper. In an instant, the crowd turned on the attacker, killing him.

Moore, who regularly makes his own pilgrimages of sorts to Washington seeking support for the people of East Timor, said he thinks it’s critical for religious leaders in the West to”break out of the walls of the church.””People out there are risking their lives for voter registration,”he said.”It’s only then you realize what faith is all about. You return to preach with more depth and power.” But Moore said he fears the Episcopal Church is turning inward once again.”It’s more conservative now, there’s more of a focus on spirituality, to the exclusion of social concerns,”he said.”It’s more about Bible study than debate.” Relaxing in his Greenwich Village parlor surrounded by mementos gathered during a lifetime of world travel, his wife Brenda nearby, and a Cairn terrier at his feet, Moore seems to get the greatest charge out of what may seem like the smallest moments in his full life: The time the children and grandchildren of parishioners from his Jersey City church turned out for a book signing, or the annual blessing of the animals at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.”I always loved the annual blessing of the animals, it was like a circus parade,”he said.”We’d have all kinds, even elephants. Once a youngster came up with a palm-sized box and lifted the top to reveal a mouse. He said, `Bishop, can you bless my mouse?'”Of course I blessed the little guy,”he said, his voice dissolving into warm laughter at the memory of the little boy in America’s largest house of worship, seeking divine favor for one of God’s creatures great, but small.

MJP END WORDEN