Message from Bishop Chilton Knudsen
As I write this, I am preparing to fly to Vienna, Austria (thank you, frequent flier
programs!) to officiate at the baptism of my sister Laurie’s tiny son Lucas.
Lucas’ dad Friedl is Austrian, and Vienna seems like the very best place to have this
baptism, in the midst of Friedl’s family, and in the wee chapel where Friedl became
my brother-in-law almost exactly three years ago. At that wedding in 1997, I was just
getting my heart and soul ready to travel to Maine to meet the Nominating Committee —
the step which really kindled my hope that you would call me here. It will be, I bet, a
quite tender experience to be in that same chapel again officiating at this baptism,
travelling to Austria from my home in Maine. More on that baptism later...
Lucas’ baptism (and a number of other milestones, including recent sad times of
farewell to people whom God has enfolded utterly) has me pondering about FAMILY —
biological family, church family, human family — and the complex bonds which the term
"family" signifies. It was Jesus who both honored the family and taught us that
family is a much larger reality than we usually think. Being with my sister at her
wedding, and soon at her son’s baptism, reminds me that I am a BIG SISTER. I smile as
I write that, remembering how my brother, just two years younger than I, suffered so with
having a big sister.
I have a mental picture of the clubhouse which he and his friends built. Taped on the
door, in uneven lettering, was a sign reading NO GRILS ALOUD (yes, this isn’t a typo;
that’s exactly what it said). The neighborhood "grils" and I made every
effort to plead for admission, to batter down the door, to persuade them that we
weren’t so pesky after all, because no one likes to be shut out. No one can meet the
closed door, the keep-out sign, without pain and frustration. No one, of any age.
Of course, keeping out the stranger is a human trait. There’s something primal about
that instinct. We do it because we need so much to clarify and claim our own identity, and
one step in doing that is to mingle exclusively with our own kind. It’s a
developmental challenge for us all, this process of opening our door to those unlike
ourselves. It’s so much easier to share life when we are with people who think, act,
look and talk like we do. It can be quite burdensome — and sometimes even scary
— to open our door to people who aren’t our own kind. This is one of Jesus’
most pointed lessons to us; he who sought hospitality from tax collectors, asked for a cup
of water from the Samaritan woman, shared food with sinners, welcomed the anointing from
the woman of ill repute. It is quite clear what Jesus would have us do as regards the
strangers in our own life. And it is only by opening those doors that we truly embrace our
identities. I am not who I am because I have shut you out. I am who I am because you have
entered my life, and in so doing you have helped me to discover myself. Jesus knew this,
and wanted for us this true maturity, this freedom to be ourselves, trusting that who we
are is God’s gift, and thus needs no defending. The freedom to discover that we are
most uniquely ourselves when we are in relationship with those not like us.
Here are three snapshots of doors opening, and I offer them to invite us all into the joy
which flows when the sovereign will of the One who is our Savior is fulfilled in ways both
small and large.
First: At the General Convention in Denver, the door between Episcopalians and Lutherans
swung wide. Our vote in the House of Bishops brought tears to my eyes. When the final
tally was announced, and the door had been opened by the expressed will of a huge
majority, we called a brief recess. Lutherans, lay and ordained, who filled the gallery,
opened arms to Episcopal bishops and vice versa. And so it begins, this process of
cherishing our distinct identities, not by shutting one another out, but by sharing life
together, each of us thereby learning more about ourselves because we have opened the door
to live side by side. I believe that our shared life will strengthen, not diminish, the
unique gifts of each of our religious traditions.
In the course of our recent General Convention in Denver, many more doors were opened. It
seems as if we are slowly realizing that we can indeed hold our own differing and
cherished views and still take down our keep-out signs. Elsewhere in this edition of The
Northeast, you will find reports of other actions of your General Convention. Those of
us who were there will testify to its amazing spirit of community, richly flavored with a
spirit of respect for the diversity of views which Episcopalians hold on every subject.
Second: On a recent warm summer morning, a man and a woman played 18 holes of golf
together for what, they expect, will be only the first of such occasions. It was your
usual golf game — some great shots by each, some real flubs too. By mutual agreement,
a score wasn’t kept. That was itself a metaphor for this round of golf. No winners or
losers on this round. We were both winners. A fine summer day, warm companionship, shared
pleasure in the game itself. The woman was your bishop. The man was Fr. Lester York,
rector of "Old St. Paul’s" Anglican Church on Congress Street in Portland
(yes, the church with which, by God’s grace, we made a loving agreement to part
company and to hold one another in Christ’s peace forever). A door was opened.
Neither Fr. York nor I had to surrender anything we hold dear - no beliefs, no practices,
no distinctions. We found ourselves laughing about our game — how I tend to hit to
the left of the fairway while he hits to the right -- I was gratified on the day, a few
short months ago, when he and I both put our signatures to the long legal document which
established our agreement to travel separate paths. I was blessed in double measure by the
companionship we felt, traversing the fairways with Jesus smiling upon us, love for Jesus
burning in both our hearts.
Third: Back to that baptism. I will co-officiate with a dear friend of Friedl’s
family. He’s a Roman Catholic priest. We will honor those distinct areas which our
traditions dictate, but we will together welcome Lucas into the fullness of life in
Christ. There have been, and still are, voices which would denounce what we will do, just
as there have been and are voices which would denounce the actions depicted in the other
two snapshots I have shown you. There are always people who are not ready to take down the
sign and let the grils in. But they will be ready, someday, somehow. Because it is
God’s perfect will that we all be one, and Christ gave his very life so that
reconciliation with God and one another might be fulfilled. Is there a sign on some door
of your life, a sign which needs to be taken down? You need give up nothing of who you are
or what you cherish. In fact, you will find your identity and your convictions deepened
when you let those strangers in. And when you do, you will have done your part to bring to
fullness that familiar prayer in which we promise God, with God’s help, to do on
earth what is already done in heaven. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done... Gracious God,
through Jesus our Savior, may we seek tirelessly to do your will and your will alone,
every moment that we live. Let the doors be opened.
Ever in Christ,
+CHILTON