The members of St. Gregory’s come from all backgrounds; what they share is an interest in making church themselves, instead of simply being spectators or consumers of religion. Check out members’ blogs here, read our newsletter, and learn more about members' work, faith, community activism and interests.
In this month’s issue....hear from the Parish Profile team....join neighboring churches for a fish fry...and more!
As we celebrate the 30th anniversary of St. Gregory’s, Jackie Lee writes with her memories of her first visit to the church 28 years ago.
In August of 1980, Bob Shearer (an early clergy member of SGN) invited me to come to St. Gregory’s with him and two of his children one Sunday. I knew of St. Gregory’s, but had never been to a service. St. Gregory’s was housed in a chapel at Trinity.
I had never been to Trinity before. With its rock and brick building and architecture, it looked like an old fortress or castle--forbidding rather than inviting. We walked through an iron gate and courtyard walled on three sides by the walls of the church. You had to know where you were going---there was no sign or banner. On entering the building, we made a left turn into the chapel. There I saw a room with hardwood floors, an arch painted gold most of the way down the columns, and two rows of chairs facing each other in what would have been the area behind an altar rail. There was a chair facing the open doors, a stand with a Bible on it, and a candelabra on either side of the stand. On a smaller stand was a round metal container with a round of ashes. Next to the central chair was a round brass bowl with a stick in it. We stood around a stand with colorful fabric on it , with a chalice and paten on a purificator (a piece of fine white linen about the size of a handkerchief).
We practiced music either in front of our chairs, or around the altar (I can’t remember accurately which). Bob’s son was asked to light the
candles. We proceeded through the service including a psalm. When it was time for the Gospel, Donald Schell (the deacon) asked one of the visitors to read. After each of the readings and the sermon, Donald struck the rim of the bowl with the stick. It was so quiet you could hear the tone go around the rim until it died out. Rick Fabian sat to give the sermon, which was extemporaneous. After the sermon silence there was no discussion that I recall (again, it may be my faulty memory). We proceeded to the altar for the prayers and Eucharist. The wine was passed from person to person, each calling the next by name. We then practiced the carol. There were only 15 or 16 people present, so we did not complete a circle around the altar. As is still the case, there was much practice before we attempted the carol.
After the service, two of the folks produced coffee and tea from downstairs somewhere. We visited with each other, and I knew I had met other visitors when I was asked how old my children were. Since they weren’t mine, we had a bit of a chuckle when I couldn’t answer. After I got home, I tried to sort out all of the experiences. Something about this place attracted me. The colorful fabrics, the music without instruments, the form of the entire liturgy, all worked together with the people to make me feel completely at home.
Needless to say I returned, and soon became a member. The recognition of becoming a member was that Rick took us out to dinner. I have been part of this community since then. In these recent years when I have not been able to be present on a regular basis, much of my support has come from members of St. Gregory’s past and present.
I certainly would not have guessed at that time that we would become a parish of so many people, with our own beautiful building and varied ministries. Thank you for being a part of us.
With love, Jackie Lee
The following letter from St. Gregory’s member Otis Charles was sent to Bishop Sisk on March 3rd, 2008.
The Right Reverend Mark Sisk, Twelfth Bishop of New York
Dear Mark,
Picking up on the introductory line of your February 29th to the clergy and people of the Diocese of New York, regarding the article by Honor Moore in the March 3, 2008 issue of The New Yorker, which is drawn from her forthcoming book A Bishop’s Daughter, “It is with sadness that I write to you.”
It is with sadness that I feel you could not find it in your heart to acknowledge Honor Moore for the great service she has done the Church.
Newsstand copies of the March 3, 2008 issue of The New Yorker proclaim “The Bishop’s secret life.” The larger story is the Church’s secret life.
As you indicate in your letter to the diocese, the contradictions in Paul’s life were known. All was apparently well (no need for any public statement) as long as they were “secret.” Secrecy is the malaise that has brought the Church to its present rending agony.
A Bishop’s Daughter has broken the silence and exposed the culture of secrecy on behalf of us all.
It is with sadness that I feel you could not find it in your heart to set her work in the larger context of liberation and healing of individuals and families and congregations and dioceses: the Church.
It is with sadness that I feel you could not find it in your heart to use Honor Moore’s courageous act of truth telling as an opportunity to respond with pastoral compassion, thereby allowing all the clergy and people of the Diocese of New York to share in this posthumous gift a daughter is giving her father. And, vicariously, to each one of us known and unknown, connected directly or indirectly, to this man who could never fully be himself because the Church denied the worth of his true self.
It is with sadness that I feel you could not find it in your heart to say,"Thank God, we have been freed â•’ freed from a secret that has bound us and
caused us to limp. Now, now we can stand tall in the fullness of our humanity as that six foot five man, Paul Moore, our bishop, was never able to stand.”
It is with sadness that I feel you could not find it in your heart to write a letter of reconciliation to the clergy and people of the Diocese of New York expressing gratitude for Honor Moore’s gift to the diocese. In doing so, those who have found the church abusive would have experienced, in you,
a man who like his predecessor, knows the passion of our Lord and is not afraid to “walk in the way of the cross and discover it to be the way of
life.”
In Christ who liberates us all,
Otis
The Right Reverend Otis Charles
8th Bishop of Utah
Interim Rector, Trinity Church, San Francisco
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