Bishops in the Episcopal church are obliged to visit each of their parishes once every few years, and this past week was our church’s turn to get a Sunday morning of Bp. Rob O’Neill’s time — appropriate, as it is Good Shepherd Episcopal Church, it was the day for readings about the Good Shepherd, Psalm 23, etc.
Bp. Rob’s an interesting guy. He walked into the job here about five and a half years ago (I was privileged to be one of the voting delegates from our parish), just in time for the fall-out from the 2003 General Convention (where New Hampshire’s election of a bishop who happened to be openly gay was confirmed) to hit the ground, coupled with other brouhaha within the diocese, from the big brouhaha at our church to the whole Don Armstrong thang, as well as national and international turmoil.
But for someone who keep being portrayed by the conservatives in the Episcopal Church and splinters thereof as Teh Evil Running-Dog Liberal Lackey and Button Man of That Woman (our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts-Schori), Rob doesn’t come off as some wild-eyed lunatic or cunning madman or disingenuous tearer down of all that is right and holy in favor of rudderless libertinism. Instead, he taught. He engaged the congregation both during his sermon and in an hour-long session afterward, talking about the challenges in our own lives to follow the path of service down which Christ … well, shepherds us.
It was a good Sunday experience, meaning it’s one that I can take out beyond Sunday. There have been times when I’ve wished for a more visible leader as bishop, someone actively confronting injustice and wrong, but whenever I get a chance to meet or listen to him, it’s a reminder that there’s more than one way to lead.
(His sermon’s not online, but some of Bp. Rob’s other writings are here.)
Ironically, it’s forty (!!!) years ago today that I received First Communion, at St Joseph’s Catholic Church in Pomona, CA. I remember the date because I got a St Christopher medallion as a gift, and the date was engraved on the back.
What a long, strange journey it’s been, faithwise.