Winter Solstice (The
Feast of St. Thomas) Dec. 21, 2014
Twenty years ago this night, I was ordained deacon in the
Diocese of El Camino Real in my home parish of St. Philips, San Jose, CA. In a
service that reflected the multicultural parish that had been my spiritual home
for four years of seminary, I took the first step toward priesthood that would
be completed the following June.
The date was chosen with care. It was the Feast of St.
Thomas, often called Doubting Thomas, a feast day traditionally chosen for
diaconal ordinations. Transitional deacons are in a period of ongoing
development and preparation for their priestly vows. If there are any doubts,
that is the time to consider them.
It was also the winter solstice. As the true Celt I am,
it seemed the perfect date for an ordination, a time of endings and new
beginnings. My days in seminary and the many wonderful classes and trips
throughout Latin America were coming to an end. My time as a clergyperson
within an institutional church about which I have always been uncertain on a good day how or if
I really fit was commencing. New light was beginning to illuminate a dark road
ahead. A new life was beginning.
The Charge
Prior to taking my diaconal vows, my bishop, the late Rt.
Rev. Richard Shimpfky, read me the following charge from the Ordination of a
Deacon rite in our prayer book:
My brother, every Christian is called to follow Jesus
Christ, serving God the Father, through the power of the Holy Spirit. God now
calls you to a special ministry of servanthood directly under your bishop. In
the name of Jesus Christ, you are to serve all people, particularly the poor,
the weak, the sick, and the lonely.
As a deacon in the Church, you are to study the Holy
Scriptures, to seek nourishment from them, and to model your life upon them.
You are to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example,
to those among whom you live, and work, and worship.
You are to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns,
and hopes of the world. You are to assist the bishop and priests in public
worship and in the ministration of God's Word and Sacraments, and you are to
carry out other duties assigned to you from time to time. At all times, your
life and teaching are to show Christ's people that in serving the helpless they
are serving Christ himself.
My brother, do you believe that you are truly called by
God and his Church to the life and work of a deacon?
Answer I believe I am so called.
Life as a Deacon
I was only a deacon for six months. My transitional diaconate
concluded with ordination to the priesthood the following June. But the call to
diaconal ministry has marked my life both inside and outside the church since
my first ordination.
Franciscans are perfect matches for diaconal ministry.
Francis himself refused to become ordained a priest. He felt his place was with
“the little ones” that Jesus loved who for the most part were found outside the
church of his day. And, sadly, in all truthfulness, for the most part they
still are.
My life work has long sought to serve “the poor, the
weak, the sick, and the lonely.” The little ones have also been my teachers,
reminding me of my own largely unearned privilege. They have taught me what
justice means and what injustice looks like. They have reminded me of my own
finitude in their illness, their limitations, their weaknesses. They have
helped me understand that being fully human means much, much more than amassing
degrees, winning awards, attaining a modicum of social status and making a modest income.
The image of G-d shines so brightly on the faces of many
of the little ones even as it hides behind distressing disguises of poverty,
addictions, criminality and mental illness among others. They are often the
ignored and the forgotten in the life of socially respectable churches like the
Episcopal Church (once called the Republican Party at prayer).
My diaconal calling to study the scriptures took an
unexpected turn shortly after my priestly ordination. I was pretty clear even
in seminary that I was probably not cut out to run a parish. Truth be told, I
have negative managerial skills and the parish that hired me would have to be
crazy. I was told I’d be the priest to the margins at my ordination but Lord
knows I had no idea then how far the margins stretched.
Knowing I’d need to make a living at something, I decided
to get a doctorate and teach college students. Thus my actual study of
scripture proved to be intensive and critical. I learned how scripture was read
by Latin American liberationists and critical theorists. I learned how
scripture was appropriated and explained through thinkers in sociology, criminology and social psychology.
And I learned some Greek and Latin along the way to actually consider the
etymology of these words and their historical-cultural context.
Somehow I doubt that’s what the writers of the ordination rite had in mind. But once that cat was out of the bag, it was too late to return
to any kind of devotional or dogmatic approaches to scripture.
However, that’s where the last part of the diaconal calling
comes in.
Francis often told his friars “Preach the Gospel at all
times. Use words when necessary.” The Way of Jesus followed by Franciscans is
highly incarnational. It sees the image of G-d everywhere it looks. It is
precisely what a good deacon should do to “make Christ and his redemptive love
known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and
worship” and, in turn, to "
The Rock That
Crushes
Just before I began the process of applying to
seminaries, knowing I had no diocesan support for ordination but feeling
certain I was called there nonetheless,
I accompanied my husband, my parents and my sister and her husband on a
trip to Europe. We spent the first four days in Rome. Our hotel was close to
the Vatican and I slipped out one night after dinner to go to the colonnaded
piazza in front of St. Peter’s Basilica to pray.
“Peter,” I began, “I want to be a part of your rock. I
want to serve the church with all of my heart.”
The presence that came to me that moment was grave though not
threatening. “You will be a part of the rock,” Peter said, “and that rock will
crush you.”
In the years since my ordination, St. Peter’s rock has
indeed proved crushing, a process that has occurred with regularity and a high level of effectiveness. Since leaving my home diocese of El Camino Real in central California
in 1995 I was only able to serve briefly as an assistant to the chaplain at the
Episcopal chaplaincy at Florida State University during my two years of
graduate work there.
When I left Tallahassee in 1997 I was first hired and almost as quickly fired before I even began a position as a university chaplain in another diocese
here in Florida, an encounter marked by major subterfuge, incredible dishonesty and eventually no small amount of slander on the part of
the bishop and his staff there. As for my current residence, I have never even considered asking the diocese where I
now live to license me given its deeply homophobic policies and virulent history. I may be a glutton for punishment but I'm no masochist.
There was a very long time that the Episcopal Church and
I had little to say to one another. I presumed that my time with the church was
over, that it had been a wonderful dream briefly realized but not to be held onto for any length of time. About five years ago I began to attend a local
parish whose rector is a graduate of the seminary I attended in Berkeley. I
came to support her and to bring a legally blind friend to church. Sadly, he now is too infirm
to leave his care facility. My attendance is spotty at best but I have
come to value the community I experience even as my ability to serve there remains highly marginal.
Twenty Years Later
- Still Seeking the Way
As the years have passed, I have found myself less and
less concerned about the imperatives of an institutional church from which I am
largely estranged. One of the benefits of not serving the institution in any
leadership capacity is not having to worry about the things with which all
institutions concern themselves – toeing the company line, behaving in ways
which meet the expectations of its leadership, meeting the demands of its customers
and doing whatever is necessary to maintain - if not grow - the customer base.
In the place of those institutional imperatives, I find
myself increasingly seeking to discern who Jesus was, what the Way of Jesus was
about and what following that Way means here and now. Increasingly I have come
to realize that just as Jesus and Francis found themselves on the margins of
the institutional religious bodies of their days, following the Way of Jesus in
the manner of Francis not surprisingly results in the same thing today.
There are days that it is simply too painful to sit in
the pew and watch others do what I was ordained to do but am barred from doing.
I put a lot of time, energy and my heart and soul into becoming an ordained
priest. Almost the entire cost of my four years of seminary came out of my own pocket.
I continue to try to make my peace with this reality.
That said, I give thanks for the courage of my bishop in
California to ordain me. I know he did so in part to get in the face of the now
retired bishop of Central Florida. I also know he did so even as I struggled
with authority issues and survived a close encounter with a DUI just before
leaving California. Much like the mixed blessing Simeon gave Mary that she
would have the joy of bearing a child but it would bring with it a sword to
pierce her soul, I have cherished both my diaconal and priestly ordinations
even as they regularly prove to be swords ever ready to pierce my own soul.
At the moment of my ordination, my bishop prayed, “Therefore,
Father, through Jesus Christ your Son, give your Holy Spirit to Harry; fill him
with grace and power, and make him a deacon in your Church.” At the beginning of my 21st
year as an ordained Episcopal clergyman who now sits in a pew, I know that my
world is changing and that I am being called in new directions that as of this
moment are not very clear. The road is once again dark ahead of me as I await the light of a new year and new life. I pray for the grace and power to be led by Spirit
to whatever this new calling might be and the courage to say yes when that
calling finally manifests itself.
For this, I believe I am so called.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Rev. Harry
Scott Coverston, J.D., M.Div., Ph.D.
Member, Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest, Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Asst. Lecturer: Humanities, Religion, Philosophy of Law
University of Central Florida, Osceola Regional Campus,
Kissimmee
If the unexamined
life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious
or political, is not worth holding.
Most things of
value do not lend themselves to production in sound bytes.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
