State of the Church

Interview with Deborah Solomon

The New York Times

November 19, 2006

Q: You just took office as the first woman to head the Episcopal Church, and curiously enough, you come from a science background, having worked as an oceanographer for years.

I worked on squids and octopuses.

As a scientist with a Ph.D., what do you make of the Christian fundamentalists who say the earth was created in six days and dismiss evolution as a lot of bunk?

I think it’s a horrendous misunderstanding of both science and active faith tradition. I understand the great creation story in the scientific sense — big bang and evolutionary theory — as the best understanding of how we have come to be what we are: not the meaning behind it, but the process behind it. Genesis is about the meaning behind that.

Your critics see you as an unrepentant liberal who supports the ordination of gay bishops. Are you trying to bolster the religious left?

No. We’re not about being either left or right. We’re about being comprehensive.

How many members of the Episcopal Church are there in this country?

About 2.2 million. It used to be larger percentagewise, but Episcopalians tend to be better-educated and tend to reproduce at lower rates than some other denominations. Roman Catholics and Mormons both have theological reasons for producing lots of children.

Episcopalians aren’t interested in replenishing their ranks by having children?

No. It’s probably the opposite. We encourage people to pay attention to the stewardship of the earth and not use more than their portion.

You’re actually Catholic by birth; your parents joined the Episcopal Church when you were 9. What led them to convert?

It was before Vatican II had any influence in local parishes, and I think my parents were looking for a place where wrestling with questions was encouraged rather than discouraged.

Have you met Pope Benedict?

I have not. I think it would be really interesting.

He became embroiled in controversy this fall after suggesting that Muslims have a history of violence.

So do Christians! They have a terrible history. Look at history in the Dark Ages. Charlemagne converted whole tribes by the sword. I think Muslims are poorly understood by the West, and it is easy to latch onto that which we do not understand and demonize it.

What do you make of Ted Haggard, who just stepped down as the head of the National Association of Evangelicals, after he was accused of cavorting with a gay escort?

I think it’s very sad. We’re always surprised when we see people’s clay feet. Our culture seems to delight in exposing them. I think we have a prurient interest in other people’s failings.

You can’t blame the Haggard case on the culture or the media. It isn’t a story about sex so much as the disturbing hypocrisy of a church leader.

But we’re all hypocrites. All of us.

You’re very forgiving.

I like the word “shalom.” I use it in my correspondence, I use it in my sermons, and that’s how I sign my e-mails — “shalom.” To me it is a concrete reminder of what it is we’re all supposed to be about.

Because it means peace in Hebrew?

It means far more than peace. I think it’s a vision of the human community. Those great visions of Isaiah — every person fed, no more strife, the ill are healed, prisoners are released.

You were previously bishop of Nevada, but your new position requires you to live in New York City. Do you and your husband like it here?

He is actually in Nevada. He is a retired mathematician. He will be here in New York when it makes sense.

I hear you’re a pilot.

I got my license when I was 18.

You have many talents.

Many crazinesses, many passions.

Interview with the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette

January 10, 2007

Arkansas Democrat-Gazette: This is your first time to consecrate a bishop. Tell me how you prepare for that, and your sense of our bishop, if you even have that yet.

Katharine Jefferts Schori: I’ve met him twice at this point. I don’t really know him yet. I do know something about the diocese, because (outgoing bishop Larry Maze and I have worked together on things like Living Stones, which is bishops of small dioceses, meaning small numerically, or financially, or sometimes geographically. So I have some sense of the kinds of creative ministry that have gone on here.

ADG: What are some of those things in particular?

KJS: Developing ministry teams, which is something of a novelty within the Episcopal Church. It’s been going on for a long time, but in smaller rural places. And Bishop Maze has done a good, creative piece of work in fostering that here.

ADG: One of the things that bishop-elect Benfield is particularly concerned about is growing the church. [Both the diocese and the national church have steadily lost members in recent years.] And I’m going to refer to some things you’ve said in other interviews, because it seems in many interviews you have a way of saying things that startle people or surprise people.

KJS: Hmm.

ADG: One of them is in an interview with the New York Times, when you talked about Episcopalians being more educated and less –

KJS: The whole conversation was not reported.

ADG: I’m sure. I know how that happens. But since Episcopalians don’t have as many children as some other folks, what are some of your ideas for growing the church? One of his passions is reaching out to people in the 18 to 25 age range.

KJS: More power to him. That’s an essential piece of where our evangelism efforts need to be addressed. There are vast numbers of people in this country who are unchurched, who’ve been raised now without a faith tradition. That may be less so in this part of the country, but in the part of the country I come from, it’s normal. But many of those young people are asking spiritual questions. “Why am I here? What am I supposed to be about as a human being? How am I supposed to live in relationship with other people?” Those are questions that the Episcopal Church is well poised and well experienced in helping people to find answers. Not provide answers, but help people wrestle with the questions.

ADG: How so?

KJS: It’s a matter of openness more than anything else, and listening to the hunger that’s out there, offering a space and a community and a space in which to tell a person’s story and then beginning to connect that story with the larger story of our faith, if that makes sense.

ADG: Could you be a little more specific about some of the things the Episcopal Church offers to help people deal with those questions?

KJS: Well, we don’t come with a prescribed set of answers. We really do encourage people to wrestle with the question. To bring traditional sources to bear on it. Scripture, tradition and reason is how we talk about those sources. We insist that people use their minds in wrestling with questions. Faith is not meant to be unreasoned, or unreasonable. And I think that’s one of our gifts, that we’re willing to deal with a breadth of perspective, and encourage that breadth of perspective. It’s a mark of health.

ADG: Speaking of that interview, what did get left out?

KJS: Well, Episcopalians reproduce at lower rates than some other denominations for several reasons. There are clear connections between [reproductive] rates and educational level. It’s an inverse connection, as average education level goes up that group of people tends to reproduce at lower rates, and that’s certainly true in the Episcopal Church. It’s true of other mainline denominations as well. You don’t have a theological reason to reproduce at higher rates, unlike some other denominations and faith traditions. That’s the piece of complexity that got left out.

ADG: When you first became bishop of Nevada, you were interested in reaching out to Hispanic populations. Did you have some success doing that, and is that something you’d like to broaden? I ask that because we have a large Hispanic population here in Arkansas.

KJS: I think it’s absolutely essential. In addition to that younger adult demographic, people that come from other countries, other language traditions, are an essential piece of our evangelical focus. That is beginning to have some success. It has taken a long time. A new congregation is beginning in south Reno within the month. The focus of that congregation, which will probably be primarily Anglo, is starting missions to help start a Hispanic church. That is going to be its reason for existence. There is a great challenge in finding competent, trained, Spanish-speaking, bicultural, bilingual clergy. That’s one of the big challenges for this church. We can’t simply import such clergy from other countries. It’s unfair to those countries at some very important level of justice, and I think we’re going to have to continue to be creative about how we find and form such people and leadership from within communities. And that’s actually something that Arkansas has been effective at doing. Not specifically in the Hispanic community, but the leadership development team that Bishop Maze has promoted is a model for doing that kind of work.

ADG: And again, what might be attractive to Hispanics about the Episcopal Church in a way that you wouldn’t simply be sheep-stealing those who are already within the Roman Catholic tradition?

KJS: If you go to Latin America today, you discover that Roman Catholicism is alive and well, but there are many other traditions that are also booming. The Pentecostal religion; more open, in some sense, traditions. I think the Episcopal church provides a liturgically familiar kind of setting, but with an openness of perspective that insists that people have to come to their own conclusions. The answers of faith aren’t going to be provided for you.

ADG: I want to ask you about a couple of other things you’ve said in interviews. One of those was in the 10 questions in TIME magazine about the small box that people put God in. Could you elaborate a little bit on your take on “Jesus is the way, the truth and the life” [a paraphrase of John 14:16]?

KJS: I certainly don’t disagree with that statement that Jesus is the way and the truth and the life. But the way it’s used is as a truth serum, or a touchstone: If you cannot repeat this statement, then you’re not a faithful Christian or person of faith. I think Jesus as way – that’s certainly what it means to be on a spiritual journey. It means to be in search of relationship with God. We understand Jesus as truth in the sense of being the wholeness of human expression. What does it mean to be wholly and fully and completely a human being? Jesus as life, again, an example of abundant life. We understand him as bringer of abundant life but also as exemplar. What does it mean to be both fully human and fully divine? Here we have the evidence in human form. So I’m impatient with the narrow understanding, but certainly welcoming of the broader understanding.

ADG: What about the rest of that statement –

KJS: The small box?

ADG: Well, the rest of the verse, that no one comes to the Father except by the son.

KJS: Again in its narrow construction, it tends to eliminate other possibilities. In its broader construction, yes, human beings come to relationship with God largely through their experience of holiness in other human beings. Through seeing God at work in other people’s lives. In that sense, yes, I will affirm that statement. But not in the narrow sense, that people can only come to relationship with God through consciously believing in Jesus.

ADG: I want to ask you about something you said [in a radio interview] with Steve Crittenden in Australia. You were talking about issues of sexuality, and you said you thought that [objection to homosexuality] was more of an issue for men than for women, and women were more interested in — you didn’t say the Millennium Development Goals, but that was the kind of thing you were talking about. And right after your election, [a foreign journalist] asked you kind of a snide question about.

KJS: What would the average Anglican?

ADG: Yeah, and Anglican women in Africa, think about your support for gays, and you said they’d be more concerned about food and education for their children. Do you have some evidence that the sexuality is more of an issue for men than for women?

KJS: Well, who’s most heated up about it? Gatherings around the Anglican Communion that are primarily male seem to get captured by this issue. Gatherings that are primarily female get captured by passion for a human world. For human people and educating children and providing health care. The UN Commission on the Status of Women and the accompanying gathering of Anglican women at the UN over the year is probably the best evidence. And they have different opinions about issues of human sexuality, but that’s not the focus of their work together. The focus is on humans.

ADG: You’ve also said that issues of sexuality tend to be of more concern in the Southeast than in other parts of the country. Could you talk about that a little bit? Of course, there are exceptions: congregations in California, the Diocese of Quincy (Ill.), Pittsburgh. But you talk about geographic concern. Is it a Bible Belt thing?

KJS: I don’t know. I notice it’s a concern culturally in parts of the country where race relations have been so present. I come from a part of the country where issues of racism aren’t black/white. They’re about immigration, either from Asia or from Spanish-speaking countries, so there’s not the same kind of clear issue in history about who’s in and who’s out. It’s a much more diffuse issue. And it’s a complex issue in that it’s not just one group. And it’s not just African-Americans; it’s Chinese and Japanese and Mexicans and people from Hong Kong and Taiwan and the South Pacific. I think the human condition, and original sin, if you will, has something to do with defining some other group as not fully human, not fully acceptable. And in this country it’s had to do mostly with slavery and African-Americans. The church has certainly wrestled with the place of women in the life of society. We’re beginning to wrestle with the place of people whose sexual orientation is different from the average. In some sense the church has wrestled with the place of children. They’re not normative human beings in many people’s view. I think it’s a result of that. It has some connection with that history.

ADG: Let’s talk about the church’s support of the Millennium Development Goals. And what are some of the initiatives down the road for enlisting Episcopalians in accomplishing some of those goals? That was originally a United Nations initiative, which would mean focusing on those issues elsewhere, but we have those issues in pockets of the U.S. too.

KJS: It actually goes back to the early ’60s, when some economists sat down and said, “What would it take to solve global poverty?” It grew into something in the late ’90s that the bishops of the Anglican Communion said, “We need to participate in this.” In 2000 the UN adopted a set of eight goals. ... Dioceses in this country since the late ’90s have said, we want to be part of this. It originally started by saying, we’re going to contribute a percentage of our annual budget to international development work. People are aware more clearly today that it’s not just a matter of giving money, but it’s about empowering people in the pew to lobby their legislators. We’re not going to solve global poverty unless the industrialized nations of the world take it seriously and contribute a significant chunk of funds, resources, human capital, to making it possible. This is the first time in human history when we’ve really been able to say we can feed everybody. We can provide primary education for girls and boys across the world. We can do something about maternal health care and childhood disease and preventable disease like AIDS and tuberculosis and malaria. It’s a matter of having the will to do it, first of all, and then committing the resources to make it happen. The Episcopal Church is involved at the diocesan level, at the parish level, at the level of individual members of the tradition. But we’re also involved in lobbying Congress, through our Office of Government Relations, to participate in this program. We’re involved through an arm of the church called Episcopal Relief and Development that’s doing things like Nets for Life, insecticide-treated nets to sleep under and prevent malaria – a great number of other projects across the world to achieve those goals. I’ve heard in the time I’ve been here about places in Arkansas that are ripe for similar kinds of development. The Delta. So it’s not just international. There are domestic applications as well. It’s about achieving a world where human beings live with dignity, and have what they need to live with dignity.

ADG: That reminds me of something else you said. This was a CNN interview when Kyra Phillips asked you what happens when we die. You had an interesting answer that got some Southern Baptists riled up.

KJS: OK. I didn’t hear their reaction.

ADG: Al Mohler – I don’t know whether you’re familiar with him –

KJS: I’m not.

ADG: He’s a seminary president [at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville] and has a blog and a radio show. [Mohler posted the exchange on his Web site]. It seemed to some people that you were saying there isn’t an afterlife.

KJS: I don’t think Jesus was focused on that. I think Jesus was focused on heaven in this life, primarily. The Judeo-Christian tradition has always said yes, there is resurrection. There is life after death. But I think Jesus was not so worried about that. I think he’s worried about what we’re doing to treat our fellow human beings as children of God. He says the kingdom of heaven is among you, and within you, and around you.

ADG: So does that mean that in your view there is no afterlife?

KJS: That’s not what I said. I said what I think Jesus is more concerned about is heavenly existence, eternal life, in this life.

ADG: So there again, that’s partly why the Millennium Development Goals are important to you? To improve people’s lives now?

KJS: Absolutely. The Anglican tradition of Christianity is world-affirming, it is focused on incarnation, and it insists that we’re not meant to shut ourselves off from the world in a pietistic sense or in a sectarian sense. That we’re meant to be in the world, and transforming the world into something that looks more like the reign of God.

ADG: Do you think there’s any part of us that lives on somewhere after we die?

KJS: Absolutely. But that’s not a question that concerns me day in and day out. I think I’m meant to use the gifts I have to transform the world in this life.

ADG: [Brown asked whether Jefferts Schori’s views on the afterlife are more informed by the Old Testament than the New.] I know you’re a fan of the book of Isaiah.

KJS: Jesus was clearly in the prophetic tradition. The prophets are concerned about human beings in this life, how governmental structures have oppressed them; they’re concerned with liberation from that oppression. They’re not patient with the idea that one suffers in this life so you can live in glory after you die. Not patient with that idea at all.

ADG: Let’s talk about some of the struggles in the church right now, what’s happening in the church in Virginia [where members of several congregations have recently voted to leave the denomination]. I’m especially curious to know what you think about property issues. That’s going to be different based on individual laws in different states.

KJS: Actually, not so much. The reality is that this is a very tiny percentage of the Episcopal Church. This is a handful of congregations out of 1,700. They’re getting a lot of press; they’re quite noisy. The reality is that there have always been people who decide that they have to follow another path. That they can’t find what they’re looking for or believe they need within a faith tradition. And our attitude has to be to bless their going, to pray that they find the source that they’re looking for in another community. But the reality also is that congregations and dioceses are structures of the institutional church known as the Episcopal Church. They can’t leave. Individuals can leave. We’ve also been very clear that property in this church, all kinds of property, real property, legacy, memorials in a congregation, are held in trust, because they come from generations before us and they are for generations that come after us. That can’t be alienated. The issue you raised about law – the federal Constitution is clear about the separation of church and state, that the church has the right to make decisions, if it’s a hierarchical church, and that the courts will only interfere in very specific circumstances. The property issues have been decided in favor of the denomination in almost every case.

ADG: What about in Georgia, where there’s a church where it’s not so much people wanting to leave as having cut off their funding to the national church.

KJS: That’s nothing new. There are congregations and even dioceses in this church that, because they’re peeved with particular decisions — and they’re decisions across the map; all sides are going to withhold funding from the national church. It’s a sad commentary on an understanding on both denominational polity and a sense of stewardship. Money that’s given is meant to be given as an expression of gratitude, not as a tax, although people sometimes see it that way. And the other sad part is that often when those monies are withheld, it prevents good creative mission from going on. It hamstrings feeding programs. It prevents new congregations from being started. It slows down aid work overseas. We are often in this country still highly individualistic. What’s mine is mine, and don’t touch it. That’s not a Christian virtue. There’s a rather surprising story in the book of Acts, in a Christian community that was clearly holding goods in common, and a couple in the congregation, in the gathering, said they were going to sell their property and give the money to their community, and it didn’t happen that way, and the way the story is told is actually quite humorous.

ADG: Let’s broaden the focus a little to the Anglican Communion. Next month you’re going to be traveling –

KJS: To Tanzania –

ADG: To visit with [the other primates of the Anglican Communion], some of whom don’t actually accept you in the job that you have. And the position you have as presiding bishop is a little different than the primates in some other churches. Could you explain that a little bit?

KJS: Sure. In the Episcopal Church, the church in Canada, the church in a number of other western places, the primate has much less authority than in some of the African churches, for example, where the bishop rules. We come out of a democratic tradition; our church is structured politically in a democratic way. In order to make decisions in this church of policy, the House of Bishops and the House of Deputies, which includes laypeople and clergy, have to agree to do it. The bishop in a diocese doesn’t have the ability to walk into a parish and say, “Hmm, you have to change this, this, this and this.” The bishop does have some clear authority in particular circumstances, but not over every decision. That’s not true in other parts of the church. And I think there’s a lack of understanding of our polity here that contributes to the frustration. I know that before Bishop Robinson [Gene Robinson of New Hampshire, the first openly gay partnered bishop] was consecrated, some of the other primates were just flummoxed that Bishop Griswold couldn’t simply say, “Well, you can’t do it.” That just didn’t make sense to them.

ADG: So what’s your game plan for Tanzania?

KJS: To go and meet the human beings who will gather. I’m sure there are a couple, at least, who don’t welcome the presence of a woman in their midst, and others whom I claim as friends. It’s a mixed group. And in some sense it’s curious to me that opinions that were held by each of my predecessors are somehow more offensive when they’re held by a woman.

ADG: We talked about that interview being taken out of context. What do you think the media doesn’t get about the Episcopal Church? The Virginia churches have gotten an awful lot of press. Are there other things you think that are more important that are overlooked?

KJS: The church in most places is healthy and vital and doing good and creative ministry. And that’s not the kind of story that sells newspapers. But it’s real. The church is thriving in so many places. And yes, there’s some conflict, but it’s a very tiny piece of the whole.

ADG: What do you wish people like me would ask you that we don’t?

KJS: Hmm. Hmm. Well, stories of great success and vitality. And I think this congregation [Christ Episcopal Church in Little Rock] is probably one of them.

ADG: There’s been talk of having both houses elect a presiding bishop. Could that be a reality [at the next General Convention] for 2015?

KJS: I don’t know. We’d have to change our canons, our rules. The church in Canada does it in a very different way, and they come out of the same democratic ethos that we do. The House of Bishops in Canada produces a slate of acceptable nominees, and then they send that slate to the General Senate, which would be equivalent to our House of Deputies, and they elect. So it’s simply another model. But in many other parts of the Communion it’s simply the bishops who elect. The others have no say in the matter at all.

ADG: What’s happening at Camp Allen this week? [A group of self-described “Windsor bishops” met at Camp Allen in Texas.] Do you know and do you care?

KJS: I gather that Bishop [of Texas, the Right Rev. Don] Wimberley has called a meeting. I was not invited. I’ve not seen their agenda; I don’t know who’s there; but I think they’re talking. And I think that can only be good.

ADG: We’ve covered a lot of ground. Is there anything else you’d like to say?

KJS: I’m delighted to be in Arkansas.

“What are you: a Unitarian?!?”

NPR interview by Robin Young
October 18th
Transcribed by the CaNN News Editor

RY: I’m Robin Young: it’s ‘Here & Now.’

Bishop Katharine Jefferts-Schori, a former oceanographer, and a pilot, is slated to become the first woman to head The Episcopal Church of America– that will happen on November 1st.

She’s inheriting a church divided on the ordination of homosexuals, and the blessing of same-sex unions. Her own election has precipitated a double-crisis over the role of women. In the American Church, some Episcopal dioceses have asked to leave because they don’t accept a woman as leader; and international Episcopal churches have also said they can’t accept a woman as head of a national church. For her part, Bp. Katharine has been quoted as saying that if her opponents leave the table, she will rise to follow them to continue the dialogue.

Bishops Jefferts-Schori joins us now: welcome!

KJS: Thank you.

RY: And– boy!– as I read some of the recent history of the church, it does sound like a somewhat tough row to hoe [laugh] that you’re entering.

KJS: Well, I think all ages have their challenges: this is simply ours.

RY: Now, well, when you were elected Primate, that is, head of the U.S. Episcopal Church, you were quoted as saying “We’re not here to argue about matters of sexuality, we’re here to build a holy community”.. but as you know, there are people arguing about sexuality– what are you going to do to heal that?

KJS: Well, we’re going to keep conversing, we’re going to continue to ask people to met gay and lesbian Christians, and to begin seeing some of the fruits of their ministry.. uh, we’re going to continue to wrestle with these issues– they are the issues of our day, and the issues of recent generations have been about the place women in the church, and the place of african-americans in the church, and the place of immigrants in the church, and I simply see this as our current growth into a larger.. communion.

RY: Because why? Why do you believe so firmly that’s the right direction for the church?

KJS: Well, as a scientist and as a person of faith, I– I understand that sexual orientation is a given, for almost all people; it’s not a matter of choice, and in that case, if this is how people are created, then our job as a community of faith is to assist people in finding holy ways of living in relationship, and, uh, that’s what we’re about.

RY: What do you say to your congregants who say “Well, I also, you know, understand that there are people who might be gay or lesbian, but I just don’t want them as my bishop, as Gene Robinson is now in New Hampshire; or to be married in the church that I also attend. What do you.. what do you say to them?

KJS: Well, it’s a challenge. But I think God calls us into challenging situations, I think that’s how we grow.

The Early church dealt with it.. the place of gentiles in the church, do new gentile converts have to be circumcised, did they have to live by Jewish dietary laws, or could they be welcomed as they were? There will be another group after gay and lesbian Christians– I don’t know who it will be, but there will be another one, because that’s who we are as human beings.

RY: You mentioned that you were a scientist. I remember recently I was on a little field trip with A.O. Wilson, the scientist–

KJS: Oh, my..

RY: — and he calls himself a secular humanist, and he just says that as a scientist, he just has looked and looked and looked, and he’d be– he’s said ‘I’d love to be the one to prove there was a God– wouldn’t that be the greatest sceintific discovery?” But he can’t see the proof. How about you? As a scientist, and scientists want to see proof of something, how do you– how are you then also a person of faith?

KJS: I came back– I was, uh, raised, you know, in the church– and I came back to the church as an adult when I was in graduate school, and began to read the physicists, who talk about mystery– Heisenberg, and Bohr, and Einstein. Here were people who were going down the same kinds of roads that I had gone down, saying “No, there’s something innately mysterious about creation, something beyond what we can deal with in scientific terms. Hard science asks questions about ‘how, and ‘what’; and faith-traditions ask questions of meaning: what does it mean to be a human being in this world? How can I live a live that is good? Uhh…

RY: TIME asked you an interesting question, we thought, “Is belief in Jesus the only way to get to heaven?” And your answer, equally interesting, you said “We who practice the Christian tradition understand him as our vehicle to the divine. But for us to assume that God could not act in other ways is, I think, to put God in an awfully small box.” And I read that and I said “What are you: a Unitarian?!?” [laughs]

What are you– that is another concern for people, because, they say Scripture says that Jesus says he was The Light and The Way and the only way to God the Father.

KJS: Christians understand that Jesus is the route to God. Umm– that is not to say that Muslims, or Sikhs, or Jains, come to God in a radically different way. They come to God through… human experience.. through human experience of the divine. Christians talk about that in terms of Jesus.

RY: So you’re saying there are other ways to God.

KJS: Uhh… human communities have always searched for relationship that which is beyond them.. with the ultimate.. with the divine. For Christians, we say that our route to God is through Jesus. Uhh.. uh.. that doesn’t mean that a Hindu.. uh.. doesn’t experience God except through Jesus. It-it-it says that Hindus and people of other faith traditions approach God through their.. own cultural contexts; they relate to God, they experience God in human relationships, as well as ones that transcend human relationships; and Christians would say those are our experiences of Jesus; of God through the experience of Jesus.

RY: It sounds like you’re saying it’s a parallel reality, but in another culture and language.

KJS: I think that’s accurate.. I think that’s accurate.

RY: Bishop Katharine: you have a fascinating life-story. Your Dad was a physicist, your Mom had a degree in literature, and became a biologist. You, as we said, were an oceanographer, grew up in Seattle, you have a daughter who’s a 2nd Lieutenant, and a pilot in the Air Force– by the way, is she serving?

KJS: Uh, she’s serving stateside, and she’s a 1st Lieutenant.

RY: How about you? Do you still pilot a plane?

KJS: I do– I flew from Reno to Henderson yesterday.

RY: What kind of plane do you fly?

KJS: A Cessna 172.

RY: What does that do for you?

KJS: [silence]

RY: ..besides get you from A to B..

KJS: Oh. Oh.. that’s the easy part. Uh.. it’s, for me, an encounter with the vastness of creation, and the Creator.. it’s a reminder that I’m a very small piece of it.. that I’m constrained by human limits… uh, and it gives me a very different perspective on the world.

RY: Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori, slated to become head of the Episcopal Church of America on November the first. Thank you for speaking with us.

KJS: Oh, it’s been a pleasure. Thank you.

Investiture Sermon

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop and Primate
The Episcopal Church

November 04, 2006

Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori preached at her November 4 investiture service, which was set in the context of Holy Eucharist at Washington National Cathedral. The full text of Jefferts Schori's sermon follows:

Where is home for you? How would you define your home? A friend in Nevada said to me just before I left that he had thought I would only leave Nevada to go home, and in his mind, that meant Oregon. But in the six years I spent there, Nevada became home. The state song is even called, "Home means Nevada." And for a place filled with folk who have come from elsewhere, that is quite remarkable – all sorts and conditions of rootless people trying to grow new roots in the desert.

So where is home for you? Des Moines or Anchorage or Taipei or San Salvador or Port au Prince?

What makes it home? Familiar landscape, a quality of life, or the presence of particular people?

Some people who engage this journey we call Christianity discover that home is found on the road, whether literally the restless travel that occupies some of us, or the hodos that is the Way of following the one we call the Christ. The home we ultimately seek is found in relationship with creator, with redeemer, with spirit. When Augustine says "our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee, O Lord" he means that our natural home is in God.

The great journey stories of the Hebrew Bible begin with leaving our home in Eden, they tell of wandering for a very long time in search of a new home in the land of promise, and they tell later of returning home from exile. And eventually Israel begins to realize that they are meant to build a home that will draw all the nations to Mount Zion. Isaiah's great vision of a thanksgiving feast on a mountain, to which the whole world is invited, is part of that initial discovery of a universal home-building mission, meant for all. Jesus' inauguration and incarnation of the heavenly banquet is about a home that does not depend on place, but on community gathered in the conscious presence of God.

In Death of the Hired Man, Robert Frost said that "home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in." We all ache for a community that will take us in, with all our warts and quirks and petty meannesses – and yet they still celebrate when they see us coming! That vision of homegoing and homecoming that underlies our deepest spiritual yearnings is also the job assignment each one of us gets in baptism – go home, and while you're at it, help to build a home for everyone else on earth. For none of us can truly find our rest in God until all of our brothers and sisters have also been welcomed home like the prodigal.

There's a wonderful Hebrew word for that vision and work – shalom. It doesn't just mean the sort of peace that comes when we're no longer at war. It's that rich and multihued vision of a world where no one goes hungry because everyone is invited to a seat at the groaning board, it's a vision of a world where no one is sick or in prison because all sorts of disease have been healed, it's a vision of a world where every human being has the capacity to use every good gift that God has given, it is a vision of a world where no one enjoys abundance at the expense of another, it's a vision of a world where all enjoy Sabbath rest in the conscious presence of God. Shalom means that all human beings live together as siblings, at peace with one another and with God, and in right relationship with all of the rest of creation. It is that vision of the lion lying down with the lamb and the small child playing over the den of the adder, where the specter of death no longer holds sway. It is that vision to which Jesus points when he says, "today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." To say "shalom" is to know our own place and to invite and affirm the place of all of the rest of creation, once more at home in God.

You and I have been invited into that ministry of global peace-making that makes a place and affirms a welcome for all of God's creatures. But more than welcome, that ministry invites all to feast until they are filled with God's abundance. God has spoken that dream in our hearts – through the prophets, through the patriarchs and the mystics, in human flesh in Jesus, and in each one of us at baptism. All are welcome, all are fed, all are satisfied, all are healed of the wounds and lessenings that are part of the not-yet-ness of creation.

That homecoming of shalom is both destination and journey. We cannot embark on the journey without some vision of where we are going, even though we may not reach it this side of the grave. We are really charged with seeing everyplace and all places as home, and living in a way that makes that true for every other creature on the planet. None of us can be fully at home, at rest, enjoying shalom, unless all the world is as well. Shalom is the fruit of living that dream. We live in a day where there is a concrete possibility of making that dream reality for the most destitute, forgotten, and ignored of our fellow travelers – for the castaways, for those in peril or just barely afloat on life's restless sea.

This church has said that our larger vision will be framed and shaped in the coming years by the vision of shalom embedded in the Millennium Development Goals – a world where the hungry are fed, the ill are healed, the young educated, women and men treated equally, and where all have access to clean water and adequate sanitation, basic health care, and the promise of development that does not endanger the rest of creation. That vision of abundant life is achievable in our own day, but only with the passionate commitment of each and every one of us. It is God's vision of homecoming for all humanity. [Applause]

The ability of any of us to enjoy shalom depends on the health of our neighbors. If some do not have the opportunity for health or wholeness, then none of us can enjoy true and perfect holiness. The writer of Ephesians implores us to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace – to be at one in God's shalom. That is our baptismal task and hope, and unless each of the members of the body enjoys shalom we shall not live as one. That dream of God, that word of God spoken in each one of us at baptism also speaks hope of its realization.

The health of our neighbors, in its broadest understanding, is the mission that God has given us. We cannot love God if we fail to love our neighbors into a more whole and holy state of life. If some in this church feel wounded by recent decisions, then our salvation, our health as a body is at some hazard, and it becomes the duty of all of us to seek healing and wholeness. As long as children live exposed on the streets, while seniors go without food to pay for life-sustaining drugs, wherever peoples are sickened by industrial waste, the body suffers, and none of us can say we have finally come home.

What keeps us from the tireless search for that vision of shalom? There are probably only two answers, and they are connected – apathy and fear. One is the unwillingness to acknowledge the pain of other people, the other is an unwillingness to acknowledge that pain with enough courage to act. The cure for each is a deep and abiding hope. If God in Jesus has made captivity captive, has taken fear hostage, it is for the liberation and flourishing of hope. Augustine said that as Christians, we are prisoners of hope – a ridiculously assertive hope, a hope that unflinchingly assails the doors of heaven, a hope that will not cease until that dream of God has swallowed up death forever, a hope that has the audacity to join Jesus in saying, "today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

And how shall that scripture be fulfilled in our hearing? In the will to make peace with one who disdains our theological position – for his has merit, too, as the fruit of faithfulness. In the courage to challenge our legislators to make poverty history, to fund AIDS work in Africa, and the distribution of anti-malarial mosquito nets, and primary schools where all children are welcomed. In the will to look within our own hearts and confront the shadows that darken the dream that God has planted there.

That scripture is fulfilled each time we reach beyond our narrow self-interest to call another home.

That scripture is fulfilled in ways both small and large, in acts of individuals and of nations, whenever we seek the good of the other, ifor our own good and final homecoming is wrapped up in that.

God has spoken that dream in us, let us rejoice! Let us join the raucous throngs in creation, the sea creatures and the geological features who leap for joy at the vision of all creation restored, restored to proper relationship, to all creation come home at last. May that scripture be fulfilled in our hearing and in our doing.

Shalom, chaverim, shalom, my friends, shalom.

[Congregation responded: Shalom]

What Does a "Dream of God" Look like

By Ralph Webb
The Institute on Religion & Democracy

In her investiture sermon, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori spoke of what she called the "dream of God" and equated it with her "vision of shalom." She described it as the "homecoming" of all human beings to a place of peace with God and, even more, the restoration of the entire created order to that "shalom." The United Nations' Millennium Development Goals are the vehicle through which The Episcopal Church (TEC) can play its part in fulfilling this "dream." In the end, there will be "a world where no one goes hungry … no one is sick or in prison … no one enjoys abundance at the expense of the other … all enjoy Sabbath rest in the conscious presence of God."

The "dream of God" imagery may have constituted a tribute on Bishop Jefferts Schori's part to the late Dr. Verna J. Dozier, an Episcopal layperson, teacher, and author. Dozier's most popular book, The Dream of God: A Call to Return, has greatly influenced many progressives. Episcopal clergy such as the Rev. Ed Bacon, Bishop Michael Curry, and the Rev. Susan Russell, as well as progressive Christian authors such as Marcus Borg, have referenced this "dream of God" metaphor.¹ The book often is used for discussion groups in progressive parishes.

Verna Dozier was disheartened by The Episcopal Church (TEC), feeling "that [its] religious leaders too often ignore social justice to focus instead on spirituality." Consequently, she urged fellow members of the laity to follow Christ through activism for progressive causes. She asked them "to witness … that there is another possibility for human life than the way of exploitation and domination." She also criticized the church for what was in her mind too great a focus on worshipping Christ: "Jesus did not call human beings to worship him, but to follow him."

Her sense of dichotomy between serving and worshipping Christ led her to teach her students to question their faith, the Scriptures, the church as an institution, and religious leaders. She argued that fear, not doubt, is the opposite of faith. She also contended that faith is demonstrated primarily through action rather than belief. "Don't just tell me what you believe; tell me what difference it makes that you believe" is a saying of hers cited frequently by progressives.

Dozier's major arguments are reflected in Bishop Jefferts Schori's thinking. In her investiture sermon, the new Presiding Bishop identified fear as one of two reasons that would keep Christians from pursuing her "vision of shalom." (The other reason was apathy.) And in her first homily after being elected Presiding Bishop last June, she raised this question as her central focus: "Can we dream of a world where all creatures, human and not, can meet each other in a stance that is not tinged with fear?"

In the same sermon, Bishop Jefferts Schori talked of "lay[ing] down [this] fear" by letting go of any "idolatrous self interest"—including, potentially, one's "theological framework." The goal of this abandonment is to "love the world"; Christians should relinquish their "narrow self-interest, and heal the hurting and fill the hungry and set the prisoners free." Nearly five months later in her investiture sermon, she identified the church's mission with loving others: "The health of our neighbors, in its broadest understanding, is the mission that God has given us."

What's significant here is that the bishop uses theology as an example of an idol while not doing the same for social justice. She clearly did not mean in her June sermon that a "theological framework" is always a source of idolatry. Nonetheless, she did not cite "lov[ing] the world" as a potential idol even though it can be one. There are times when people help others to boost their own prestige rather than out of altruism. There are also times when people place so much stock in their service to humanity that their good deeds become a god to them.

This comparative distrust of theology meshes well with Verna Dozier's thought. When asked in the progressive publication The Witness about her feelings on orthodox Christian beliefs, Dozier replied that "The insistence on one position is a frightened position. If you were not threatened by another reality you wouldn't have to be so strong on yours." From this perspective, fear is the reason why many Christians hold classical Christian beliefs (e.g., salvation through Christ alone, a belief that Bishop Jefferts Schori denies). Clearly, Bishop Jefferts Schori agrees at least partially with this sentiment.

Dozier also speculated in The Witness that concern for "right belief" is "a manifestation of the drive for power that's in all of us, all the time. I can control you if I can set up the possibility that there is only one position and I hold it."² Correspondingly, in her essay "Lab Report" from her forthcoming book A Wing and a Prayer, Bishop Jefferts Schori contends that "the great sin of the church … [is] the desire to be right."³

The one-sided warnings say much about the greater weight that Bishop Jefferts Schori gives to social justice than theology—or even worship. She told The Living Church that Christians should reach out to their neighbors by "[s]how[ing] God's love through action. Add formal worship as needed." Bishop Jefferts Schori may not see the same dichotomy between following Christ and worshipping Christ that Verna Dozier did. Still, "formal worship" evidently is lower on the priority scale for the new Presiding Bishop than social justice.

Regardless of whether Bishop Jefferts Schori consciously paid homage to Verna Dozier, she nonetheless affirmed Dozier's central metaphor of the "dream of God" in her investiture sermon. In so doing, she used imagery that would have resonated deeply with many Episcopal progressives. The new Presiding Bishop asserted that pursuing this "dream of God" should be a "tireless search" for all Christians, who are "prisoners of hope"⁴ until the "dream" comes to fruition.

Undoubtedly influenced by her background in marine biology, the bishop closed her investiture sermon with an image of every creature joyfully envisioning this "dream": "God has spoken that dream in us, let us rejoice! Let us join the raucous throngs in creation, the sea creatures and the geological features who leap for joy at the vision of all creation restored, restored to proper relationship, to all creation come home at last."

What role does Jesus Christ play in this vision? Bishop Jefferts Schori at one point compares this homecoming to a heavenly banquet of which Jesus is the "inauguration and incarnation." She asserts that God uses Jesus' incarnation, along with Old Testament prophetic writings and stories of the patriarchs, the reflections of mystics, and baptism, to plant the "dream in us." Perhaps most significantly for the bishop, he is also the one who "has made captivity captive, has taken fear hostage … for the liberation and flourishing of hope." In this last quote, Bishop Jefferts Schori alludes to her favorite passage of Scripture, the first few verses of Isaiah 61—the text that she used as the basis for her investiture sermon.

Noticeably absent from her passing references to Christ in the investiture sermon, however, is any mention of his death and resurrection. Also missing is any call to repentance and faith in Christ. Like other progressives, Bishop Jefferts Schori evidently finds more significance in the life that Jesus lived than in his sacrifice for the sins of all humanity and God's vindication of that sacrifice.⁵

Another writer had a vision of creation's liberation over 2,000 years ago. The apostle Paul saw all creation burdened as a result of the fall of humanity and foresaw a day when "the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God."⁶ He also saw hope as critical for the Christian, but the hope that he described in the letter to the Romans was one grounded in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. "Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life."⁷

Paul saw no dichotomy between following and worshipping Jesus Christ, unlike Verna Dozier. For example, the apostle spends several chapters in Romans on practical ways in which his readers can follow Christ. In the middle of this section, Paul speaks of Jesus as Lord and anticipates a day when everyone will "confess" or "praise" (the exact word is disputed, but either one involves worship) Jesus.⁸ A parallel passage in Paul's letter to the Philippians⁹ is also explicit in this regard.

And in contrast to Bishop Jefferts Schori, Paul clearly did not believe that a person's "theological framework" is somehow less trustworthy than social action. Many of his writings aim to help Christians build a "theological framework" that affects all aspects of their lives, including both worship and Christian action. Again in his letter to the Romans, Paul spends nearly all of the first 11 chapters describing an elaborate "theological framework" that serves as the basis for, first, worship¹⁰, and second, practical instructions.¹¹ The progressive "dream of God," unfortunately, lacks this balance.

10 Questions for Katharine Jefferts Schori

Time Magazine
July 10, 2006

Rough waters aren't new to Katharine Jefferts Schori, 52, a former oceanographer who is the Presiding Bishop-elect of the Episcopal Church of the U.S.A. Bishop Katharine, as she's known, takes over a denomination rocked by controversy at home and abroad for its liberal stance on gay clergy. She talked with TIME's Jeff Chu about her mission of social justice, the relationship between science and religion and whether faith in Jesus is the only path to heaven.

What will be your focus as head of the U.S. church?

Our focus needs to be on feeding people who go to bed hungry, on providing primary education to girls and boys, on healing people with AIDS, on addressing tuberculosis and malaria, on sustainable development. That ought to be the primary focus.

The issue of gay bishops has been so divisive. The diocese of Newark, N.J., has named a gay man as one of its candidates for bishop. Is now the time to elect another gay bishop?

Dioceses, when they are faithful, call the person who is best suited to lead them. I believe every diocese does the best job it's capable of in discerning who it is calling to leadership.

Many Anglicans in the developing world say such choices in the U.S. church have hurt their work.

That's been important for the church here to hear. We've heard in ways we hadn't heard before the problematic nature of our decisions. Especially in places where Christians are functioning in the face of Islamic culture and mores, evangelism is a real challenge. [But] these decisions were made because we believe that's where the Gospel has been calling us. The Episcopal Church in the U.S. has come to a reasonable conclusion and consensus that gay and lesbian Christians are full members of this church and that our ministry to and with gay and lesbian Christians should be part of the fullness of our life.

The Archbishop of Canterbury, who leads the Anglican Communion, wrote recently that a two-tier Communion may be a solution. What did you read in his message?

The pieces that I saw as most important had to do with the complexity of the situation and the length of time that this process will continue. He's very clear that we're not going to see an instant solution. He's also clear about his role: it is to call people to conversation, not to intervene in diocesan or provincial life--which some people have been asking for.

There's much debate about whether science and religion can comfortably coexist. You're a scientist and a pastor. What do you think?

Oh, they absolutely can. In the Middle Ages, theology was called the queen of the sciences. It asks a set of questions about human existence, about why we're here and how we should be in relationship with our neighbors and with the divine. And science, in this more traditional understanding, is about looking at creation and trying to understand how it functions.

What is your view on intelligent design?

I firmly believe that evolution ought to be taught in the schools as the best witness of what modern science has taught us. To try to read the Bible literalistically about such issues disinvites us from using the best of recent scholarship.

Is belief in Jesus the only way to get to heaven?

We who practice the Christian tradition understand him as our vehicle to the divine. But for us to assume that God could not act in other ways is, I think, to put God in an awfully small box.

Pastoral work can be all-consuming. How do you relax?

I run regularly. I like to hike, and I take one long backpacking trip a year. Flying is also a focusing activity. I come from a family of pilots, and it's always been part of my experience. It takes one's full attention, and that's restful in an odd kind of way. It takes your mind away from other concerns, not unlike meditation.

Do you have a favorite Bible verse?

Chapter 61 of Isaiah is an icon for me of what Christian work should be about. That's what Jesus reads in his first public act. In Luke, he walks into the synagogue and reads from Isaiah. It talks about a vision of the reign of God where those who are mourning are comforted, where the hungry are fed, where the poor hear good news.

What is your prayer for the church today?

That we remember the centrality of our mission is to love each other. That means caring for our neighbors. And it does not mean bickering about fine points of doctrine.

Lections for the Mission of the Church

The Rt. Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop-Elect

Evensong
13 August 2006
Good Samaritan, Corvallis, 4 pm

Lections for the Mission of the Church: Isa 49:5-13, Ps 96, Lk 10:1-9

I remember one of the first times I went to Corvallis Manor for a special communion service. I’d just come back here and been ordained a deacon, and as I recall, Bill McCarthy had gone off on leave, and left me to learn how to deal with the daily challenges of this parish. [That is a great and appropriate teaching method!] Barbara and Inez may remember that day as well. We read this same gospel about eating what is set before you, and I’d said something to the people gathered about finding the blessing in whatever is offered. [I have to believe that there is great grace in the ability to give thanks for what a nursing home kitchen turns out day after day.] And then we had communion together. Most of the people opened their mouths or put out their hands for the bread, and it was given and received. A couple of folks who didn’t respond got a blessing. Afterward, Barbara came up and whispered to me, “that woman over there, the one you just gave communion to, is Jewish!” The woman’s son came up to me later and said, “I didn’t think I’d ever see my mother take communion!” He seemed both a bit scandalized and rather grateful that she had been included. Somewhere in the depths of her being, underneath the surface confusion, she heard the words about eating what is set before you, and responded. And I am quite certain that, baruch atah adonai eloheinu, God was praised.

I tell you that story knowing full well that the rubrics were violated, and that some might find it appropriate to bring me up on charges. Yet I think we have to recognize that sometimes the gospel is not about following all the rules. We live in a society that seems consumed with legalisms, penalties, and punishment. Our church is caught up in a struggle over interpretations of scripture that debate whether and how we should be following rules set down long ago.

When Jesus tells the 70 to travel light, and to go and bring good news wherever they are welcome, he is sending them out without their usual supports. They don’t get to take along their normal excess baggage, their extra clothes and credit cards, and everything they just might need. They are supposed to depend on the hospitality they encounter, on the radical grace present in the world. And if they don’t find it, they’re supposed to keep on going until they do. And you know, after a long day’s walk, maybe without lunch or a coffee break, I think they were probably a lot more willing to look for hospitality in unexpected places. Even the places where the door is already shuttered and the light is off might be a possibility. For when you both need that hospitality, and know and expect that there is grace to be found, you are a lot likelier to keep on looking!

Beginning by saying “peace to this house” is even more likely to bring a positive response. Even a curmudgeon is likely to open up for somebody who comes hat in hand in the middle of a snow storm. The undefended person is not a threat, and grace and hospitality become a likelier response.

Rules can often become fences and defenses that keep some folks safe inside the corral and keep others out. The original genius behind the 613 rules of Torah was about self-definition. By keeping the fullness of that law, the Hebrew people became a nation. Those rules became an occasion of grace that defined their existence and their special relationship to God. Like any other good gift, however, those rules can become an idol, and an excuse for shutting out those human beings we would rather not have in our back yards – or our living rooms. The rules of Christianity or the canons of the Episcopal church or the laws of this nation are no different – they can be occasions of grace that shape our growth, or they can become dead or even demonic idols.

When Jesus tells the 70 that they have to travel light and receive whatever food is offered, he’s taking away all their little comforts and their ability to live by the rules, for the meal of the day just might not be kosher. When they are told to greet the household in peace, it means that whoever lives there is a fit candidate for peace, however that person lives. Peace-bringing and the charge to heal the sickness they find mean that any potential host is capable of wholeness and healing and salvation, and when the disciples can give that greeting with full integrity, then, oh yes, indeedy, the Kingdom of God is close at hand!

What would this world look like if Palestinians were sent off to find hospitality in Israel, and Israelis in Lebanon, and Shiites in Sunni territory? Or Americans in Iraq or Afghanistan? Can you or I go looking for hospitality in the home of an immigrant down the street, whether Mexican or Tongan or Ethiopian? Could we go, two by two, looking for welcome at the home of a paroled murderer or a sex offender?

When Isaiah says I will give you as a light to the nations, that’s the kind of radical hospitality he’s talking about. You and I are meant to be light-bearers and shalom-builders, so that God’s salvation and wholeness might reach to the ends of the earth. Going looking for hospitality has a lot to do with the hospitality of our own hearts. Can we suspend judgment about where or with whom we might find it?

Ensuring that people keep the rules hedges in the hospitality of our hearts. Yes, we can still be hospitable, but our light only stretches a little way, to the edge of the corral and those who are like us, and it will never reach the ends of the earth. Jesus asks a more radical vulnerability, the kind of vulnerability he himself showed us over and over again, eating with the unclean and the outcasts of his day. He asks of us a welcome that will admit any and every image of God walking this earth.

The harvest is plentiful, those who hunger to give and receive hospitality are abundant, but few are able to set down their loads and go freely in search of the Kingdom of God. There are many prisoners waiting to hear “come out” and many living in darkness, afraid to show themselves. There are countless throngs who hunger and thirst and suffer from wind and sun, who struggle up mountains and through the valley of the shadow of death. Yet God in his wisdom called us in the womb to be servants of peace, to share in the gift of what we find in whatever place we visit, to offer healing, and in that meeting to see and announce the present reign of God.

The harvest is rich and abundant, and we only have to go – tripping lightly, announcing peace. And once we get a taste of it, how can we keep from singing?

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody sing rules, or sing about rules. They are vital preparation and discipline, but they are not the goal. We have to be formed by those rules, like a singer who learns scales and breathing exercises, and practices them day after day and year after year, so that when opening night comes his voice can soar. That training sets the artist free to respond to the encounter of the moment, to the rich surprise of an especially responsive audience or an impromptu singing partner in the park.

The harvest, the transforming and liberating gift of the gospel, comes in the ability to see and move beyond our limited perceptions, to see the image of God in this unexpected person before us, however she does or does not keep the rules or fit our fond expectations.

I recall another encounter – a fellow who sat through an entire Christmas Eve service years ago, in that front pew, wearing his 10-gallon hat. The fact that he didn’t take his hat off was what we talked about for ages afterward, not the curious and blessed gift of his personality, which we never discovered.

Encountering the stranger as potential friend means that the kingdom of God has come near, and we will continually discover it when we are ready to eat what is offered, when we can find grace in the stew of sea cucumbers or the frijoles or the struggling sinner across the table.

We are meant to be bringers of peace and shalom, a light to the nations. And we are meant to sing a new song of grace and abundance, of healing and transformation.

May God bless our search for hospitality, within our own hearts and in all we meet. Shalom chaverim, shalom my friends, shalom.

'Old White Guy In The Sky' Image May Foster Atheism

By Katharine Jefferts Schori
The Washington Post
December 29, 2006

I would want to begin any such conversation by asking, “tell me about what kind of God you don’t believe in.” There are lots of varieties of divinity in which I don’t believe, either.

The current vogue in atheism, if real, has a lot to do with the diminished understandings of God promulgated by some believers. There is a wonderful scene in The Color Purplewhere Celie talks about beginning to wake up when she realized she didn’t believe in that old white guy in the sky.

The ability to question and doubt, is, in my experience, the real beginning of a mature journey of faith. That spiritual journey has to wrestle with the inadequate images of God so eagerly touted by some. For example, if we assume that God is primarily interested in judgment rather than in human flourishing, we’ve missed a good deal. And at its demonic edge, that interest in dividing the just from the unjust leads to things like the Holocaust and apartheid. The God of the Bible and Jesus is about abundant life, not the diminishment of God-given human potential.

Productive conversation between people of faith and atheists can certainly engage at the level of what constitutes the fulfilling of human potential, even if the two begin from different assumptions about the origin of that potential.

In that process of meeting and conversation, both have the opportunity to be enriched – and in a real sense, if the two engage at a level of vulnerability, the potential of both begins to be more fully realized. That “more” is a good part of what believers speak of as the divine or the work of the Holy Spirit. In my tradition, we speak of human beings as made in the image of God, and we embrace the insight that God became human (in Jesus) in order that human beings might become divine. Meeting another as equally image of God invites the believer into hopeful encounter – and in the process both partners can be transformed.

The opportunity for transformation is open to believers and non-believers, particularly as both partner to care for those in need. People of faith speak of loving one’s neighbor as part of the great commandment that flows from loving God, but the results do not depend on one’s state of mind or belief. There are innumerable opportunities for believers and those who deny any belief to work for the betterment of other human beings as well as the earth and its non-human inhabitants.

People of faith understand compassion to be rooted in God, but that understanding is not necessary to its expression in caring for one’s neighbor.

"Evangelistic listening"

By Katharine Jefferts Schori
Episcopal Life
January 1, 2007

One of the significant challenges in our life as a church has to do with reaching out to the unchurched. I come from a part of the country where few people are active in religious communities, and the culture is quite clearly non-Christian.

That makes evangelism a rather different proposition than it is in communities where most people know the basic shape of the Christian story. If we are going to be effective in reaching out to those beyond our walls, we are going to have to learn new language and ways of telling our story.

I taught a World Religions course in a secular university for several years. The course required students to attend several worship services in traditions outside their own (if they had one).

They had to find the house of worship, join in as much as was possible and reasonable, and later write a reflection paper on their experiences. The students often told about their surprise when they were welcomed as human beings and their chagrin when they felt they only were being received as potential converts and/or possible monetary additions.

I know I certainly have heard vestries and others say, “We have to grow, if we’re going to balance our budget.” But when these students were welcomed with curiosity and a genuine interest in knowing them as persons and individuals, they responded with warmth, even if they had no intention of joining the community.

Part of our evangelical task is making our worshiping communities welcoming in a deep, human, relational sense. The gospel is about radical hospitality, after all, and that is what we are meant to model.

The other side of this challenge is how we might speak good news in language and forms that people uneducated in Christianity can understand and welcome. If our language engenders fear, it is likely to drive people away. If it welcomes and invites, the possibility can be quite different.

This may not be seen in many places in the Episcopal Church, but consider your own reaction to “If you don’t believe the way we do, you’re going to hell.” Not only does hell not have much reality for the unchurched, there is an arrogance in that approach that many find repellent.

There are more subtle forms of that message, however, that are rampant in this church. We use language that is understandable only by insiders – and not just the arcane terms of our liturgy and polity (and those words themselves won’t be understood by many!).

There is an underlying message in many faith communities that says, “The way we worship (or hold Sunday school or run our vestry meetings or …) is the only right way.” And the implication that is heard is, “There is no welcome here for you if you can’t do it our way.” There is an aspect of that message that is quite un-Anglican, if we really want to live up to our value of comprehensiveness.

But even more deeply, we have to figure out how to tell our story in language that a person who doesn’t know anything about Christianity can begin to understand. I’m going to suggest that our telling of that great story has to begin in listening. Not only does it say to the other person, “Your story is of great importance, and I recognize your equal dignity by listening,” but it also gives us an opportunity to discern where to help connect that story with the larger story of God’s love known in Jesus Christ.

Frederick Buechner famously said that ministry happens when a person’s great joys meet the deep hungers of the world. We cannot engage in ministry until we recognize where the hunger is.

I have had the remarkable gift and opportunity in recent months to speak to people who don’t know much at all about the Episcopal Church or Christianity. Those opportunities have come through the secular media. Those interviews intentionally have avoided the language of Christian insiders for the reasons above.

The unfortunate result in some places has been anger when Episcopalians don’t recognize their own familiar language. Let me suggest a challenging exercise: How would you tell the great truths of our faith without using overtly theological language? How would you tell a new neighbor that God loves him or her without measure, and invite him or her to learn more? If we are going to hear that person’s story with grace, we have to leave the door open for a while.