Out in Twentynine Palms, they still remember how much Bishop Robert Rusack loved their Shrove Tuesday pancakes. Frances, the bishop’s warden, has worshiped at St Martins in the Fields on and off since 1957. As I sat with her and other congregants in the parish kitchen, she gestured toward the spot where the bishop stood, first in line, while her father, Garland, manned the griddle.
The Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles has two hearty high desert congregations, St. Martin’s and St. Joseph of Arimathea in Yucca Valley. Neither can afford a full-time priest. Both are brave and indestructible. Since I couldn’t make a Sunday visitation work during my au revoir tour before my July 11 retirement as bishop diosesan, I drove out to Twentynine Tuesday night for Bible study and supper. The former priest in charge, the Rev. Peggy Ventris, and her spouse, Ken, kindly arranged it.
Warden Frances told me that when The Episcopal Diocese of San Diego was formed in the seventies, St. Martin’s voted to remain in the Diocese of Los Angeles. She said the congregation received the privilege of choosing because it was equally inconveniently far from the center of both. Evidently St. John’s in Needles opted out of an opportunity to join the Diocese of Arizona for the same reason. When I joked that St. John’s perhaps deserved to be its own diocese, someone said that it had beat me to the idea many years ago by putting an honorary “bishop of all Needles” miter on the head of one of its former vicars, the Rev. Canon David Caffrey.
Steve and Kris, married ex-Marines, are stalwarts. The injustices of our times make their hearts ache. Steve gave me good retirement advice while talking about his work with Sacred Resistance, locally and church-wide. Born in Fargo, Karen got her masters from Immaculate Heart College, marched for peace, and served for 32 years as a librarian in San Bernardino County. In retirement, she has logged 25,000 hours as a volunteer. Teachers grieved Teresa’s heart when they said she was no good at school. She read that someone said, “Grief is love with nowhere to go.” She has two college degrees and a combined 4.0.
After dinner, Frances, Peggy, and Ken showed me the labyrinth they helped build. People from the neighborhood come and walk it. We talked about how the parking lot isn’t always full on Sunday but often is during the week, since the mission hosts five 12-step groups and all their saving work.
During Bible study, we unpacked John’s Pentecost Day story of Jesus visiting the handful of terrified disciples on the evening of the Resurrection. It was the first day of the week. It was also the first day of the unimpeachable sovereignty of the golden rule, the commandment of self-sacrificial mutual love which Jesus died and rose to prove. As I left, I offered everyone prayers with anointing. Most prayed for healing and peace. I drove back down the mountain into a beautiful sunset, giving thanks for the beautiful pride of brave lions at St. Martin’s, who keep God’s law well.
