Not long ago, Peter Hurd was called upon to bury one of his Anglican parishioners in Cittα del Pieve in Umbria. In reality, Peter is not an ordained minister but rather rejoices in the title of Diocesan Lay Assistant with the Duties of Ministry to the Congregations in Umbria.
Although he can neither marry people nor administer the Eucharist, his brief empowers him to bury the faithful. On this particular occasion, problems presented themselves. For a start, Peter's 12th century church in Cittα della Pieve was some way distant from the small village of Collibaldo where his parishioner had lived and died.
Given that the deceased's partner was not in a position to foot the hefty bill that the undertakers might have charged for transportation, Peter offered to travel over to Collibaldo himself. That left the problem of finding a church in which to hold the funeral service.
Peter, however, like nearly all of Italy's small Anglican community, is much practised in the skills of ecumenical dialogue. He immediately headed for the parish priest's house where he was welcomed by 92-year-old Father Giovanni.
Certainly, suggested Father Giovanni, please use my church, I will see that it is opened up for five o'clock this evening. As Peter stood up to make his thanks before leaving, Father Giovanni called him over and with a conspiratorial air said to him: "We had a little problem 500 years ago, but we're all brothers now."
With that, Father Giovanni kissed Peter on both cheeks and sent him on his way.
Peter Hurd himself recounted that story at a recent session of the Anglican Synod of Italy and Malta, held in the Venerable English College's retreat house on the lake of Castelgandolfo, south of Rome and just across the water from the Pope's summer residence. The synod session in question was devoted to the issue of ecumenism and was attended not only by representatives of Italy's (and Malta's) Anglican community, but also by representatives of the Vatican's Pontifical Council for Christian Unity as well as Methodists, Scottish Presbyterians, Swedish Lutherans, Baptists and Waldensians.
As the informal debate flowed and as discussion led to reminiscence and anecdote, an image of ever more close and easy ecumenical relations emerged, right here at the heart of Christendom. Many Italian Catholic clerics, it seems, take their lead from Father Giovanni and have no problems whatsoever collaborating and praying with their Protestant and Anglican neighbours. Indeed, on contentious issues such as inter-communion, it would seem that, at the coalface, the ecumenical process has far outstripped current Vatican thinking.
Italian Anglicans come within the umbrella of what the Anglican Communion calls the Diocese in Europe, a diocese which describes its mission as serving the "Anglican and English-speaking people throughout Europe" while acknowledging that its role as "a kind of shop window for Anglicanism in countries where we are a small minority church committed to ecumenism".
A look through the Anglican parishes of Italy, however, would recall memories of an older Europe. Capri, Florence, Palermo, Perugia, Siena, Sorrento, Taormina and Venice, all listed as parishes, strike echoes of a time when such places featured on the Grand Tour.
The not always easy path of ecumenical progress was vividly recalled by one of the older synod delegates, Bishop Eric Devonport. He told of the consternation he provoked when, as Anglican chaplain in Florence, he attended a service in Florence Cathedral at the end of the Catholic Church's week of prayer for Christian Unity.
His presence, in full flowing clerical robes, caused confusion among ushers, unsure as to where he should be seated. Eventually, he was put close to the altar but "not so close that anybody could catch anything".
One year later, however, at the same service, his presence caused less of a panic and he was moved closer to the altar. On the third year he attended, Cardinal Silvano Piovanelli of Florence actually smiled at him as he made his way to the altar.
When it came to his fourth Christian Unity service, Bishop Eric had become a familiar person. This time he was seated in the front row while Cardinal Piovanelli stopped to kiss him on either cheek: "After that I was transferred from Florence", concluded Bishop Eric, "but I have often wondered what would have happened and what greeting I would have received, if I had turned up a fifth year".