This last Saturday I drove to Echo Park to participate in a Service of Repentance at the Cathedral Center of Saint Paul for the Diocese of Los Angeles for The Episcopal Church.
The event has been posted on the website for the Los Angeles Diocese for weeks, and been worked on by the Planning Group on Black Ministries for months.
The service was a fulfillment of General Convention 2006 Resolution A123 on Slavery and Racial Reconciliation. This resolution runs the risk of becoming like so many social justice issues passed by the highest levels of any institution. Those who are most passionate, the activists who fill the upper echelons of every organization, agree on language and understandings surrounding policies and past activities of the institution, and then covenant to change their ways going forward. But in making that step for reparation of a breach of faithfulness to the call to discipleship it is recognized that reconciliation is incomplete. One doesn’t just go forward without fully acknowledging grievous behavior of the past. The General Conference Resolution called for each diocese to respond by engaging in reflection and action to resolve a breach in the unity of the body of Christ. This is action on an institutional level, not merely the individual and personal.
You might wonder, “Why in the world would a local pastor of the United Methodist Church attend such a function occurring in the Episcopal Church?”
My answer is both simple and complex.
Simply put, this was an action of acknowledging a part of my own identity. I became a Christian through baptism and confirmation as a member of an Episcopal Church in the seventh grade. In my youth, the boundaries of the Episcopal Church Los Angeles Diocese included San Diego County. I am somehow deeply connected to the body of Christ through the Episcopal Church, a fact which became very clear to me as I participated in the Wesley Tercentennial Pilgrimage in 2007. Also, I have among my ancestors one who was an Episcopal Priest who served churches in North Carolina. There is also a string of generations before and after, who claimed membership in the Episcopal Church.
The more complex answer derives from my own passion around the topics of Race and Religion and their intersection with my personal history. I grew up in a time of change. The Civil rights Act was passed in my youth. My own schooling experience lacked the heated controversy over integration vs. segregation in San Diego. And yet, during my ninth grade and half of the tenth grade, I lived with a family in Texas so that I could attend a private Christian School. In that environment I first sampled blatant white prejudice. Racism was not in my lexicon at the time. What I heard felt wrong, in violation of what the messages of Paul’s letters were conveying in scripture. But I did not know how to speak out against this message. Years later I would come to learn more about my own family history and begin to put together the facts. I will only say there are many pieces of that history which offer no place of pride of inheritance.
Attending this service was a way for me to stop and acknowledge my inheritance of racial prejudice and complacency. It was also a time to learn more of the history of the Episcopal Church. In so doing, as a participant I did so as one who has reaped benefits from the institution of slavery and institutional racism, even if I had no personal part in creating the institutions.
There is something very empowering in naming the truth. It is even more so when done in the context of a service which includes the celebration of Eucharist. In the homily delivered by Bishop Jon Bruno, honesty and candor was the hallmark of the message. Not just speaking for the failings of the institution, but of his own places of failure. The Los Angeles diocese is blessed to have the leadership of one who demonstrates such humility and honesty.
I was impressed by the make-up of those who attended. It appeared that the European-Americans in attendance where mostly from among the clergy, clerical collars being the identifier used.While waiting in the reception line following the service with me stood a young Euro-American couple with their daughter who I would guess to have been 4 or 5 years old. Those parents, so much younger than I, are to be commended for creating a lasting memory for reflection with their daughter in years to come.
There was also a young man who I would say, by appearance, was of limited resources, and of mixed racial heritage. He learned of the service when he attended Sunday Worship at the Cathedral the week prior. He told me he hadn’t been to church in many years. He was very excited to attend this service and full of interest in the Story of Christianity. His enthusiasm and interest gave me a sense of hope. Somehow, as often as the church has failed to live up to the call of costly discipleship, we do see signs of repentance and growth that spring from it.
It was most humbling, when I reached the line-up of those who lead the service, and shook each of their hands, that each of them spoke warm thanks and appreciation to me for attending the service. My own heart was strangely warmed by the opportunity to acknowledge on behalf of prior generations, and of my own participation. It was a fitting way to enter into preparation for worship the following day as we joined to commemorate World Communion Sunday.
grace and peace,
