You stand out in the crowd only because you have these many, many carrying you on their shoulders. Desmond Tutu
My first full time parish position was as vicar of Saint Elisabeth’s. I wanted to be part of the inner-city church movement of those days. I had read Paul Moore and Kilmer Myers. I had worked at the Advocate where Paul Washington was the rector.
I think it took about 18 months before I began to see. It was 18 months of hard work, developing friendships, learning the neighborhood, and praying the Office in the chapel.
I began to see the shoulders I was standing on.
In 1888 Henry P. Percival was the rector of the Church of the Evangelist in South Philadelphia. He raised the funds and provided the energy for a new parish. It was to be a place of holiness and beauty.
William Walter Webb was Percival’s assistant. Fr. Webb became the first rector of Saint Elisabeth’s. He grounded the parish in the Anglo Catholic tradition. Later he became Professor of Dogmatic Theology of Nashotah House in 1892; and then Bishop of Milwaukee. One review of his life said, “He was a man of marked administrative abilities, and was also a strong and eloquent preacher. His own life was of deepest spiritual tone.” That tone marked the parish.
William McGarvey was rector in the later part of one century and the beginning of the next. The rectory was laid out in monastic fashion with cells for the community of priests living there – the Companions of the Holy Saviour (CSSS). He and most of the parish clergy left for Rome in 1908. I struggled with my feelings about what they had done. And I also knew the depth of spirituality and sacrifice that marked the parish because they had been there.
Tomaso Edmondo of Cioppa (Rev. T. E. Della Cioppa) was rector of the Church of L’Emmanuello, an Italian Mission. That congregation was at St. Elisabeth’s from 1929 – 1940. It served the Italian community with social services, music, and social societies. I was thrilled to find a stash of 1928 Prayer Books in Italian. And found myself deeply grateful for the wise presence of Rose when I arrived, “It’s okay Father, we’ll get to know you.”
Father Edward McCoy was the rector during the 50’s and 60’s. He established a relationship with naval personal and a ministry at the Naval Hospital. It was McCoy they told stories about when I arrived. About dedication and persistence. Funny stories about his ways. And especially the story of how he integrated the parish. Margie and her son Robert were the first black parishioners. They were there when I arrived – faithful, quiet people with a sense of humor.
During my first years in the parish Father Harris, CSSS, celebrated the Wednesday mass. He was long retired from serving as rector of an African American parish. He was totally reliable. I would have been happy for him to be with us forever. But when he realized I was going to allow women priests to celebrate at the altar – that was too much. With no fuss and a much graciousness, he decided to leave us.
I came to see that I rested upon all their shoulders.
It’s one of the wrongs of parish histories that these stories get so focused on the clergy. Members didn’t tell stories from decades earlier about the laity whose shoulders we also rested upon. Or at least I failed to ask.
I did come to know the stories of the people I relied on during those seven years. Don, Robert, Mary, Wilma, Ed, Rose, John and Bess, Rachele and Frank, Kay and Joan. It was their prayers, friendships, and work that shaped a wonderful and holy Eucharistic community.
You can understand a lot about a rector’s humility and courage by seeing how they relate to other clergy in the parish. There is something more solid and mature when they are generous and thankful for the presence of other priests in the parish; especially priests they don’t pay and supervise – the retired and unpaid associates. It’s also there in whether they easily tell stories of earlier parish priests in sermons and social gatherings. You can see it immediately in places where the Rector is comfortable with the previous rector attending worship and functioning in the parish.
I heard one priest say that the priest associates in the parish needed it to be harmless. It was a sad, fearful statement. The freeing and graceful spirit of the Gospel is seen in parishes that know how to make good use of the retired and adjunct clergy among them, how to acknowledge and respect the clergy that came before them -- you either give thanks for them or you will resent and try to contain them.
In another city parish, years later, the vestry and I had invited a consultant to guide us through a learning process. She had us create a history line that told the story of the parish’s faith and prayer, service and fellowship. When she asked about a period 30 years earlier the room feel silent. The older members were clearly distressed and unsettled. They told their story of how they felt they had mistreated the rector as his son was dying of cancer. They were contrite and embarrassed. In the telling of the story that day they recovered something of themselves. They reclaimed that priest and his son. A weight upon their shoulders had changed from pain to freedom. There was in the room a sense of redemption. A redeeming not only of the “now” but of the past.
Whose shoulders are you standing upon? Do you acknowledge it or hide it?
rag+