The Episcopalian Offer

AMDG

I, your brother in Christ, united to you in love and in the mercy of God, across lines of politics or race or creed, to you, my beloved brothers and sisters. Grace and peace to you.

I wrote last about a very rich weekend I had. Besides my time amongst the Jesuits, I was able to meet up with another vowed religious friend, who gave me a gift. He had been speaking with a member of the Society of St. Francis, a community of vowed religious brothers in the Episcopal church, and found out that this brotherhood was not opposed to admitting a transgender man. So he passed on the brother’s contact information that we might connect.

I have never really church-shopped. As a cradle Catholic, I am as much at home in the church as I am amongst my family, and I bear the difficult aspects of the church the way I might bear the difficult aspects of my family. Other churches that I have visited with friends or passed on the street were lovely but never held any attraction. When I got my “no” from the Jesuits last year, I had an awareness that I could try other churches, and my mother even asked if I had considered it, but I spoke straight from the heart when I said it wasn’t really a consideration. I didn’t need to think about it.

Years ago, I remember scouring the internet for Catholic trans voices and finding one beautiful blog. The author seemed devout, thoughtful, respectful, and altogether lovely, but her last post stood like a tombstone at the top of the page: she had left the church. It hurt me. More recently, I also met a man who was transitioning his religious vocation out of the Catholic church for less theological reasons: he had bad experiences in our church; he felt called to serve the poor; he had found a community of a neighboring faith in which he could do that. At my workplace I once had a conversation with a veteran employee, someone who’s always done great work but was not given a lot of meaningful reward or recognition until recently, and even now struggles with tokenism. She asked me what I would do if I was being mistreated; I told her I would start job hunting. She put up her hand and said that is not what she would do. She told me that she would not let the company defeat her. The harder they try, the more she digs in. This is her field, her company, she belongs here, and she is not going to let them push her out. I walked away mystified, although her dedication impressed me. But now I understand. This is my faith, my inheritance, my church. I won’t be elbowed out.

And yet, having this invitation to apply into an Episcopalian order is deeply, deeply meaningful to me. It presents me with the choice in a way that is arresting. Stop. Look. Consider. I sense here that I am really being given freedom. And if I say yes to the Catholic church in freedom, then I must own my decision. I must stand up straight, cast off the hunch of victimhood, and shed the scales of calling this an accident. My narrative can no longer be that I have fallen between the cracks but that I choose to be here and do God’s work.

In all my aggrandizing musings I don’t anticipate that I will choose other than the Catholic church. When I was ready to join the Jesuits, I was ready to vow myself to her, for better or worse, and this has not significantly changed. But I do plan to explore the idea and really bring it to prayer so that I can give justice to the choice.

Blessings to you. Please pray for me, and I will pray for you.

Peace,

Your Other Brother

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