This morning I woke up to hear the sad news of the demise of Bishop Barbara C. Harris last night. I thought of her as my spiritual mentor. She took a personal interest in seeing me become a priest in the church, and she advocated for me. It was she who ordained me as a deacon in 2001.
My love and appreciation for the Episcopal Church grew more as Diocese of Massachusetts displayed its grit in electing Barbara in 1988 to be consecrated as their suffragan Bishop in 1989 even in the face of the objection of the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishops of many provinces of Anglican Communion. For them, still, today, ordaining a woman as a priest is too controversial, let alone consecrating one to be a bishop. I had the privilege of attending her historic consecration at the
Hynes Auditorium in Boston. It was under tight security, as there were death threats against her. Though she was urged to wear a bulletproof vest, she refused. As one can imagine, her consecration to be a bishop was about to usher in a significant sea change in the annals of church history. As the first-ever female and, to boot, an African American, to become a bishop of an established church was, in her own words, "fresh winds blowing in the church, refreshing to some, frightening to others."
Over the years, she kept in touch with me to see how I was doing. One of the things I am most grateful to her was that she accepted my invitation to come to St. Peter's in Phoenixville, where I was serving. I still remember the day she came to St. Peter's. It was one of the most bitter cold Sundays in January when our boiler gave out. Still, she preached and officiated at the table and then took off to DC, where she was to attend President Obama's first inaugural festivities in 2009.
She was a caring person. When she found out that Susan, Manju, and I were going to South Africa to visit with Ranjit, who was doing an internship there, she helped us with funding our travel. Three years ago, one day, she called me unexpectedly asking me to find about an inmate at Graterford Prison. For years Barbara had been in touch with this person, and then for some reason, the correspondence stopped. She wanted me to find out as to what happened because she cared about him. Last time I saw her was at a side event during the General Convention in Austin, Texas, where she was being honored for trailblazing ministry and advocacy for women and minorities. She remembered to ask me about my family, especially about Ranjit and his ministry in Connecticut.
One thing I am most indebted to Barbara is her advice for me. I always like to hear her preaching. She was very down to earth and yet very profound, she found sacred even in the most profane. Her irreverent way of saying things endeared the hearts and minds of people and made them look at the Gospel in a fresh and life-giving manner. During my postulancy, one day after hearing her preached an amazing sermon, and I asked her whether she had any advice for me to be able to preach like her. With a smile on her face, she told me, 'Koshy, you will find your own voice." I thank God for Barbara, for her courage, and for turning things upside down, for her advocacy for the marginalized, the lost, the least and the left out.
Barbara, I miss you. Hope to meet you one day up there.
My love and appreciation for the Episcopal Church grew more as Diocese of Massachusetts displayed its grit in electing Barbara in 1988 to be consecrated as their suffragan Bishop in 1989 even in the face of the objection of the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishops of many provinces of Anglican Communion. For them, still, today, ordaining a woman as a priest is too controversial, let alone consecrating one to be a bishop. I had the privilege of attending her historic consecration at the
Hynes Auditorium in Boston. It was under tight security, as there were death threats against her. Though she was urged to wear a bulletproof vest, she refused. As one can imagine, her consecration to be a bishop was about to usher in a significant sea change in the annals of church history. As the first-ever female and, to boot, an African American, to become a bishop of an established church was, in her own words, "fresh winds blowing in the church, refreshing to some, frightening to others."
Over the years, she kept in touch with me to see how I was doing. One of the things I am most grateful to her was that she accepted my invitation to come to St. Peter's in Phoenixville, where I was serving. I still remember the day she came to St. Peter's. It was one of the most bitter cold Sundays in January when our boiler gave out. Still, she preached and officiated at the table and then took off to DC, where she was to attend President Obama's first inaugural festivities in 2009.
| With Bishop Harris at the last General Convention |
She was a caring person. When she found out that Susan, Manju, and I were going to South Africa to visit with Ranjit, who was doing an internship there, she helped us with funding our travel. Three years ago, one day, she called me unexpectedly asking me to find about an inmate at Graterford Prison. For years Barbara had been in touch with this person, and then for some reason, the correspondence stopped. She wanted me to find out as to what happened because she cared about him. Last time I saw her was at a side event during the General Convention in Austin, Texas, where she was being honored for trailblazing ministry and advocacy for women and minorities. She remembered to ask me about my family, especially about Ranjit and his ministry in Connecticut.
One thing I am most indebted to Barbara is her advice for me. I always like to hear her preaching. She was very down to earth and yet very profound, she found sacred even in the most profane. Her irreverent way of saying things endeared the hearts and minds of people and made them look at the Gospel in a fresh and life-giving manner. During my postulancy, one day after hearing her preached an amazing sermon, and I asked her whether she had any advice for me to be able to preach like her. With a smile on her face, she told me, 'Koshy, you will find your own voice." I thank God for Barbara, for her courage, and for turning things upside down, for her advocacy for the marginalized, the lost, the least and the left out.
Barbara, I miss you. Hope to meet you one day up there.