In the main it was a predominantly moderate, male, middle-aged, middle-class meeting of minds - and generally agreeable for all that.
Second time around, patterns had begun to emerge. The well-articulated contributions, the frequent use of humour to diffuse edges, the tendency to praise before inserting the knife, ever so gently but with well-aimed conviction, the inclination towards mischief of the Provost of Tuam, Canon Robert McCarthy, the solemnity of Mr Peter Reid of Limerick, the irritation of Armagh's Canon William Neely, and above it all the booming tones of Archbishop Robin Eames, keeping order with the patience of God the Father looking down on his beloved people in whom he is well pleased.
The setting was appropriate too. A beautifully restored large hall in the Royal Hospital Kilmainham, where proceedings took place over Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, under the frozen gaze of aristocrats from other days when established Protestantism in Ireland was at its zenith. From aristos, meaning elite in Greek.
They were conscious of that too, and in an embarrassingly detailed honest way, at least for a Taig at his second Church of Ireland Synod and for whom flagellation of all kinds went out with Vatican II.
An interim report on sectarianism recalled those times when Catholics and Presbyterians were reduced to hedge schools. "Members of the Church of Ireland, though a minority of the population, but belonging to the established church, had a privileged position, as compared with Roman Catholics and Presbyterians . . . we must acknowledge the impact of that position on other churches in Ireland."
It noted such embarrassments as "the penal laws, tithes, the landlord system, the 19th century proselytising societies", which it observed "were episodes in our past that fuelled sectarian feeling". Its links with the loyal orders in the North "must be challenged", it said, as must perceived links with political parties.
In a section dealing with expressions of its faith it regretted if "words written in another age and in a different context should be used in a manner hurtful to or antagonistic towards other Christians." During a debate, those investigating sectarianism in the Church were urged to include the Masons on its list for query, and to talk to Catholics to see what they perceived as sectarian in the Church.
Just one speaker demurred from this thoroughly Protestant investigation of sins past. Canon Neely thought statements in the report "pathetic". "It is time to let the past submerge," he said. It was "pathetic, like President Clinton apologising for slavery when those responsible were long since dead". This was reminiscent of the Catholic bishop who recently remarked, at a meeting of the hierarchy in Maynooth, that his Church should stop apologising as it was bad for the morale of the people.
Other matters which exercised the Synod greatly included a proposal to reduce the number of dioceses from 12 to two, with the creation of one enormous diocese including everywhere west of the Shannon. It would also mean the dissolution of the united diocese of Limerick, Ardfert, Aghadoe, Kill aloe, Kilfenora, Clonfert, Kilmac duagh and Emly.
During the debate, that united diocese was revolting. Speaker after speaker from the diocese protested but to no avail, even if, as Dean Maurice Sirr said, they have "a darling for a bishop" there. The Bishop of Limerick (for short) is the Rt Rev Edward Darling. The proposal was passed, 122 votes to 108.
The not unrelated plight of rural Ireland excited more geographically spread passion. The number of farmers in the country had halved since we joined the EU, said the honorary secretary, Mr Sam Harper, and faced a drop of a further quarter if current EU proposals went ahead. Speaker after speaker underlined a sense of foreboding about what was "the heartland of the Church of Ireland". Something had to be done.
Then there was the arms issue, and how the church was investing in companies that made them. Younger members of the Synod wanted things pure as crystal, no investing whatsoever in any company associated in any way with the manufacture of arms. Prof David Spearman, chairman of the church's investment committee who, only moments before, had been telling the Synod of the wonderfully healthy nature of its £70 million pension fund, which had allowed recent increases in payments to the widowed and retired, seemed aggrieved at this would-be blot on his otherwise sunny landscape.
In miffed if not injured tones, he explained how the pensions fund would not be so healthy but for risk management which meant investing in a broad range of companies, some of which may have diversified into arms but of which the Church of Ireland may not know. He and his committee were not the sort of people who would invest knowingly in such companies, he said. Were they? he asked, advancing a "trust in me strategy" which, since Jungle Book, most would have thought was best avoided. But it worked. The Synod backed him, 161 votes to 151. "That'll teach them," said the victors about the young whippersnappers. "That'll teach them," said the whippersnappers.
And then there was Cloyne's silver, which Dean George Hilliard wanted to remove from its vault and have sold in the Republic to fund repairs to his cathedral. "It was once Berkeley's cathedral," he said. There was much and prolonged heat, as some felt the suggestion was akin to Faust's deal with the devil. One speaker even wished Sile de Valera was there.
The reason only became clear later, when it was suggested that the Ministers for Arts, Culture and All Those Other Things might be interested in buying the silver for the State. And one speaker even questioned the existence of the silver at all, using Berkeley's logic that if you can't see a tree it doesn't exist. The Synod voted for the silver to remain in a bank vault in Midleton. If it is there.