My life began in Canton, Ohio, where my parents bought an unremarkable house in the barely middle class environs of an expanding hospital. My parents had been married just over 10 months, after my father was excused from the Roman Catholic priesthood, refusing to be laicized, or renounce his holy orders, convinced of his call to marriage. In the late 1970s in the Midwest, that was a thing. What they could no longer fully exercise in the church was directed toward the house and neighbourhood, which also meant organizing to limit the hospital’s footprint.
Over time, our home would include my four biological siblings, two adopted siblings, myriad foster children, my grandmother, an aunt, cousins, exchange students, neighbours. There was always an extra seat at the table. Our faith was nurtured in guitar masses at a then-moderate Roman Catholic college, an upbringing where martyred Salvadoran archbishop Oscar Romero was a saint long before he could be canonized, and the gospel values of mercy and charity were practical and tangible.
From that childhood, I began university in France, ended up in San Francisco, and followed a winding road into The Episcopal Church. In the aftermath of the US invasion of Iraq in 2003, I wanted work that aligned with my values, and applied for a role at Grace (Episcopal) Cathedral that combined print production and administrative work. I was hired, and spent six years on the staff, first as a Roman Catholic, and then ultimately becoming part of the congregation.
Despite family history, having a quasi-liturgical role and preaching regularly at one service, ordination was nowhere on my radar screen. After six years, I left my staff position and was part of the team that was hired for the opening of an Italian restaurant, subtly named Credo. In the moments between lunch rushes and mixing amaro-centred cocktails, I realized that I would entertain just about anything except priesthood. And so I cracked open the door by telling myself it was just a conversation.
My discernment period included leading a multi-congregation jail ministry, several returns to Grace Cathedral in the liturgy department, an MA at the Claremont School of Theology, immigration organizing, disaster chaplaincy training, and a yearlong seminarian post in a small parish near where my wife, Amie, and I were living with our two boys, then in middle school.
I was stringently prepared that I was never going back to Grace Cathedral to work as a priest. But in my case, that was exactly what happened. Two amazing senior female clerics mentored and prepared me to navigate the institution as a priest, and move into a position of leadership. In that capacity, I enjoyed building a staff and developing volunteer teams, and finding ways to partner with diocesan, interfaith and civic institutions that enriched relationships without overburdening people and systems.
Our structures can ease or impede cooperative relationships. For me, there lie our biggest challenges and opportunities as a church, whether the Anglican Church here or The Episcopal Church in the US. Sometimes we have all the will in the world for two churches to share a part-time administrator, and at the same time lack the basic administrative structures to make it viable. Conversely, sometimes we can pilot a local ecumenical relationship with just enough knowledge and resources that it seeds a regional partnership. The task before us is at once a wide embrace and developing the supports that keep our metaphorical and virtual arms extended. At their best, cathedrals can do both to the benefit of the whole diocese — and that is work I hope to do here.
