Planners jokingly put up a sign calling it a good riddance party with the words crossed out. But the light spirits could not fully obscure the sadness. St. Hilary’s Episcopal Church in Hesperia was celebrating the Rev. Jonathan Sy’s 70th birthday on Sunday while giving thanks for his five years as vicar, which will come to an end at Christmastime.
After some rest and refreshment, Jonathan will devote himself to ministry to unhoused folks living in the high desert, where the winds are especially biting these lengthening nights. This won’t be a new ministry for Jonathan. A Philippines-born former monk, trained as a spiritual director as well as a chemical engineer, in the nineties Jonathan served Paris’s poor as a member of Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity Brothers. He took orders in The Episcopal Church in 2000. When we first met seven or eight years ago to talk about his vocation, he said that while he had a yearning for parochial ministry, he wasn’t sure how long it would last, since he was a pilgrim at heart.
These five years, bracketing COVID, were balm for St. Hilary’s’ pilgrim spirit, which soothes our mean times. The 80 or so gathered for worship and Jonathan party’s on Sunday exhibited a depth of diversity of which any mission or parish would be deservedly proud. This rugged mission church has a special charism of welcome for queer folk, if not unique among nearby churches, certainly a rarity. During the speeches over a magnificent lunch, couples talked about their St. Hilary’s weddings. Filmmaker and Bishop’s Committee member Mario Novoa said some 400 attended the church’s Pride event this year.
A representative of the Armenian Christian church that nests at St. Hilary’s paid tribute to Fr. Jonathan by saying, while near tears, “I’ve never met a human being like him.” The padre was loaded down with cake and gifts, including a statue of St. Francis that he had admired during a trip with parishioners. One snuck back and bought it for him. My St. Paul’s Commons, Echo Park colleague Canon Clare Zabala-Bangao, who looks after all our missions, offered a moving tribute.
It was all wonderful. But I believe I heard angel voices when a 10-year-old, sitting at a table with his mother and 12-year-old sister, calmly listed the churches his family had tried before arriving at St. Hilary’s. He named them one by one, denomination by denomination. His mother had already spoken. She said that she had grown tired of hearing homosexuality denounced as a sin and then having to tell her children that they were still supposed to love and respect their gay cousin. Welcomed at a church that didn’t impose a bigoted theology of cognitive dissonance on innocent children, this family knew they were home.
I was along to preach about Christ the King, lift up Jonathan, and reassure members of the Bishop’s Committee who will miss their vicar. Jonathan is a mystic and prayer warrior. People believe that his prayers helped them. The Holy Spirit cannot help but continue to wrap her arms around this sun-drenched love and welcome factory in the desert. Music director Connie Cravens, an ordained minister, will be among the corp of presiders and preachers offering Morning Prayer services when a priest isn’t available. Will Smith, my gracious chaplain and Mario’s spouse, devoted to launching an LGBTQ+ center in town, is emblematic of the mission’s energetic, faithful, Christ-centered lay leaders.
They will be okay, and we are all better off because of them. And every time someone coos in my ear that our little Episcopal Church is done, I’ll think of that 10-year-old reaching up to take the mic from his mother so that he could tell us where he had found the Risen Christ, and where he had not.
