The day I was made a deacon in 2003, I brought my great uncle, the Rev. Reginald Angus, a Diocese of Michigan deacon, to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in Los Angeles, which had opened the year before. Reg had heard all about it and wanted to see. I was back on Friday for a pre-Independence Day Mass for the Nation, sitting for perhaps the 20th and definitely the last time in the little ecumenical and interfaith colony presided over by Fr. Alexei Smith, the archdiocese’s inter-religious officer.
Roman Catholics enjoy diversity that we post-colonial Episcopalians yearn for, especially ethnically and socio-economically, although not, of course, with respect to sacramental justice for all notwithstanding orientation and identification. Many of my Catholic friends wish it were otherwise. United States Catholics are deep and broad in their social and political views. But it is not a denomination that plans votes on pressing issues at any upcoming conventions.
Rome has nevertheless earned its share of social justice props. Before mass began, a lay minister narrated a solemn procession of images of American saints, running the gamut from Junipero Serra to Dorothy Day. Many were giants of justice. The first U.S.- born saint was Elizabeth Ann Seton, whom The Episcopal Church lost early in the 19th century. She founded the Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph and laid the groundwork for parochial education.
Oh, but the adventures we could have together if we could overcome our differences. As it was, the midday liturgy did a far better job than our national government does in articulating American values. We began in Genesis with the beginning of freedom — the breath of life and the revelation of Eden. An apt reading from Colossians stressed our unity in Christ and the kindness with which we are to treat one another. The gospel was the new commandment from John.
Archbishop José H. Gomez tied it all up nicely. “We can help this great nation renew its shared belief in our common humanity, in the dignity and equality of every person,” he said, “no matter where they were born or if they are different from us .” We will probably not hear such sentiments tonight at Mt. Rushmore. Perhaps this time, when Trump speaks, a murmur will finally be heard from the sculpted lips of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt. You can only disrespect a mountain so long before it begins to move in your direction. The Bible says so, I think.
Fr. Alexei was kind enough to tell the congregation that it would be my last visit. I again told the archbishop that I knew he would enjoy getting to know Bishop-elect Antonio José Gallardo Lucena. I told Los Angeles chief of police Jim McDonnell that I prayed that this summer in the city would be quieter than last, Trump and ICE having learned that their racist roundups of immigrant workers and cold-blooded killing of peaceful protesters are politically unpopular. And then, finally, with hugs, smiles, and selfies, I bid au revoir to our little family of golden rulers.
