An energetic Orange County priest, celebrating his new rectorship. A hero of justice for the whole Episcopal Church, being celebrated for changing history. They and their friends were the amazing people Kathy and I got to hang out with on a joyful Saturday around the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles.
Making one of his periodic visits to All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena, the Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson, former bishop of New Hampshire, was a guest for tea and conversation moderated by Thomas Diaz, the parish’s director of connection and care. The priest in charge, the Rev. Timothy Rich, served as Gene’s canon to the ordinary back east. We arrived in time for the conversation’s closing chords and a reflection by his comrade in what she calls the inclusion wars, the Rev. Canon Susan Russell.
Gene’s 2003 election as bishop, as an openly married gay man, subjected him and his family to withering criticism and yet catalyzed vitally necessary change. When we spoke afterward, I told him that his model of refusing to reciprocate the hate was vital in these dark times. It was moving to hear him say that while many people had authentic difficulty accepting equity for gay and lesbian people in the church, the current scapegoating of trans and nonbinary people is “pure politics” — cynically leveraging voters against a tiny cohort of Americans, which Gene said would continue until more non-trans allies come alongside.
We spent the morning at Trinity Episcopal Church in Orange at the Rev. Steve Swartzell’s celebration of new ministry. I was along to preside and preach. Arriving as priest in charge two years ago tomorrow, Steve, a former paralegal, was called as rector before his first year was out.
His proud parents, Phil and Lynn, were in the front row, next to his spouse, Bob. Steve and Bob; Steve’s dean, the Very Rev. Kay Sylvester; my gracious chaplain for the day, Rocky Covill; and Kathy and I were all in Israel and Palestine together in the spring of 2023. We reflected on the horror of missiles flashing in the Jerusalem night sky this weekend as they coursed between Tel Aviv and Teheran. We prayed for peace there and everywhere.
Trinity is an especially friendly, non-anxious church. Our old friend Roy Wojahn, whom his late spouse the Rev. Karen Wojahn proudly lifted up for his “ministry of helps,” was the first usher out the door to great us. The parish has a systematical commitment to community outreach and an in-house theater troupe that stages two original musicals a year. Steve envisions a vigorous evangelical outreach to nearby Chapman University.
Today, after a succession of small miracles, I gave thanks for the transformative outreach I had received. Kathy sat with my friend and mentor, the Rev. Canon Mark Shier, retired longtime rector of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Fullerton, and his spouse, Duane, a brilliant organist. Glimpsing this beloved trio from the pulpit made it impossible, for a moment, for the preacher to see the words of his text.
Choirmaster and organist David Ripley could not have known that Trinity had chosen hymns I’d first come to love because Mark loved to program them and Duane to play them, “Praise My Soul, the King of Heaven,” “I Am the Bread of Life,” and “Come Down, O Love Divine.” They are among my five favorites.
And it was sheer happenstance that the congregation also included one of the best friends of the late Nancy Guthrie, the former St. Andrew’s church administrator. Nancy answered the phone when I called one day in 1995. It was a hard time. I was looking for a church but had been gravely disappointed once already. The note of encouragement in Nancy’s voice as she invited me to St. Andrew’s may actually be the reason I am writing these words tonight.
The simple kindness of genuine welcome has long been Trinity’s charism (and St. Andrew’s’ as well). Steve will nurture it well. In the bulletin, on the website, and on giant banners along the curb, one finds the rector’s personal invitation to church. I’ve never read a better one:
“Welcome.
“We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, widowed, straight, gay, questioning, vigorous or completely worn out. We especially welcome wailing babies and excited toddlers.
“You’re welcome here if you’re ‘just browsing’, just woken up or just out of prison. We don’t care if you’re more Christian than the Archbishop of Canterbury or haven’t been to church since Christmas ten years ago.
“We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet, and to teenagers who are growing up too fast. We welcome keep-fit moms, football dads, starving artists, tree-huggers, latte-sippers, vegans, and junk-food eaters.
“We welcome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems, are down in the dumps or don’t like organized religion.
“We offer a welcome to those who think the Earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell or are here because grandma is visiting and wanted to look around.
“We welcome those who are inked, pierced, both or neither. We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down their throats as kids or got lost on a turn and wound up here by mistake.
“We welcome pilgrims, tourists, seekers, doubters… and especially you …
“Please know that you are Welcome here!”
Amen, Fr. Steve. Bless your rectorship!
