Private and Public

by kevin kelly

In the Episcopal Church, we put a lot of stock into the idea of corporate worship. We have the Book of Common Prayer; one person cannot celebrate the Eucharist alone; we even prefer to make a confession with our congregation on Sunday morning rather than privately with a priest. Be that as it may, we do have a personal experiences even in the midst of a corporate celebration, experiences that, though private, are all the more powerful because they take place in the midst of our community. I'd like to share with you one such moment i had at the Sunday Eucharist at General Convention.

Many of you know by now that i was in an automobile accident four weeks ago. Two weeks ago i learned that as a result of that accident, i have a broken neck. I'm in a cervical collar and hopefully will heal okay. We'll have to see what the neurosurgeon says in another month or so. While i'm thankful that i wasn't injured worse than i am and that i have access to treatment, the collar is difficult, and most days i'm in pain. Some days are better; some are worse.

For several days leading up to Convention, i had been hoping that i might have the chance to ask our Presiding Bishop if she would lay hands on me for healing. I figured it was unlikely i would ever again be in a situation where i would have both the need and the opportunity to ask her to do so. I don't know her, though, and for the first few days, i never had a chance to speak to her. I did run into an old friend of mine from my Diocese of Georgia days, Stacy Sauls, who is now the Bishop of Lexington. I told him my situation and asked if he would speak to Bishop Jefferts Schori to me. I sent me a message later that it was arranged, that she wanted to do it before the service on Sunday. In the meantime, i had signed up to serve as a Eucharistic minister for that service.

About 9:30 that morning (the service would start at 10), Bishop Sauls had me meet him just to the side of the dais on which the altar sits. He led behind the heavy curtain behind the platform, where Bishop Jefferts Schori was waiting. Despite the noise and bright lights on the other side of the curtain, it was quiet and dimly light where the three of us stood. I thanked the Presiding Bishop for doing this for me and asked if i could explain why this was so important to me.

I told her about growing up in the deep South, about the prejudices i carried with me when i went to seminary. When i went in 1991, i was then convinced that neither women nor gay people could possibly be priests in the Church, although most people, i suspect, i had no idea i felt that way. Midway through that year, though, i realized that of the seventy-some people in my class, if i were to choose someone to be my priest, i could think of three. Two were women; the third was gay. I clearly had some re-thinking to do. I went on to tell her that in 2006, after she was elected Presiding Bishop, the thing that made me the happiest was remembering that we pray for our Presiding Bishop by name every Sunday. That means that for the first nine years of her life, my daughter Kate (whose full name is Kathryn) would hear us praying for the Presiding Bishop of our Church who had the same name. She would never know a time in her Church when any office, any position would be unavailable to her.

I told Bishop Jefferts Schori that i knew her position within the Anglican Communion sometime had to be discouraging when she ran up against prejudices and attitudes like the ones i used to carry with me. I told her that if there was hope for me to change, there was hope for anyone. She smiled and hugged me, then took my hand and Bishop Sauls hand and asked if we could pray together. I think it surprised Stacy to be included, but it pleased me greatly. He had spent enough time to know what it was like there, and as the father of two adopted Chinese children, had encountered prejudice i can only imagine.

After this private moment, i returned to the hall for Eucharist. Donald and Beth have already written about that service, so i won't repeat what they said, except to say it truly was glorious. As i mentioned before, i was serving as a Eucharistic minister. Initially, i was stationed at the back, but about halfway through the ministration of communion, my group was moved up to the front to help. I spent the next few minutes giving Holy Communion to a whole slew of vested bishops, to deacons, and to lay people, one of whom came up with her leader dog. The fullness of those two events - the private one behind the altar and the public one in the midst of a complete expression of the ministers of the Church - was exquisitely beautiful. It was a powerful sign of the particular grace found in the manner of our worship.

That Eucharist was an experience i will never forget and frankly one i find it hard to write about. It is difficult to articulate just how extraordinary it was, and i am deeply grateful to have been here. My encounters with God, mediated through the people and the sacraments of the Episcopal Church, continue to have a profound transformational effect on me. I am pleased to know that God isn't through with me yet.