Why and How to Live Our Baptismal Vows

My Dear Sisters and Brothers,

I generally make it a point to stay away from the "drama" and the "spats" that often define our social media landscape. I know that people come to the digital square from vastly different emotional spaces and lived experiences and they are all valuable. However I often feel my time is better spent watching Tom and Jerry!

However, I am writing to you today because something I read last day broke my heart. I have heard the same from many others including my scared and differently abled friends.
I came across a note from a young woman who is in a state of profound spiritual grief. She is not only heartbroken by what’s happening on the streets of Minneapolis; she is deeply hurt by the attitude of the pastors in churches. She wrote of hearing sermons and reading posts from leaders who attempt to justify subhuman behavior —who remain silent while the innocent are struck down, or who prioritize the wealth and security of a nation over the sanctity of the human beings.

She is confused, and rightfully so. So am I. She looks at us and asks: What happened to the Christ who told Peter to put his sword away? What happened to the instruction to turn the other cheek? She had many more questions! Why are the ones who promised to lead us in the way of Jesus now failing to find their nerve when the blood of the innocent is spilled on American streets or people arrested and deported without the rule of law?

Her grief forced me to look in the mirror. It forced me to ask: Where am I? Where are we as Episcopalians?

At every baptism, at every confirmation, we make a public promise. We vow to "strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being." These are not hollow scripts for us. Right? It is a sacred promise. May be it is time to remind ourselves what we promise so that we can live into it fully. In another words we are called to live into the prophetic words of Simeon to Mary, “a sword will piece your heart,” for living into the truth, meaning, our hearts will be broken when we stand up for the marginalized. As a church We can not afford to stay silent like in the times of slavery, displacement and murder of the indigenous people, and LGBTQ+ persecution.
 
We are standing at a crossroads that is eerily familiar to the students of history. We are standing in the same intersection that led Dietrich Bonhoeffer to his martyrdom. In his day, many clergy in Europe failed to uphold the basic teaching of Christ—that every person is the beloved of God, regardless of their status. They chose the security of the state over the demands of the Gospel that led to the slaughter of over six million innocent people. State sponsored and justified murder, beginnings of which we see in America now!

I know firsthand the terror of these times—when someone looking straight into my eyes and said, “You do not belong in this country.” I know the terror of it when my baby is threatened day after day within an Episcopal institution, and when my transgender child is forced to absorb slurs hurled at their very existence, written without shame and spoken with contempt.
 
This is not merely personal pain; it is a moral crisis. I grieve and I fear for our clergy and their families, for people of color, and for all who are marked as expendable. I am anguished for those who carry no guilt, no crime, no cause for fear—yet are made to live in it simply because of their skin, their identity, their disability, or whom they love.

This is not the way of Christ. To deny another’s belonging is to deny the image of God itself. And the Church must decide—now—whether it will bear witness to love, or remain silent while fear is preached from the streets.

We, as a church, can no longer pretend that predatory behaviors are "acceptable" norms within a democracy or a church. If we believe that these things are compatible with the following of Jesus, then we have already lost our way.

It is time for us to draw a line in the sand—not a line of hatred, but a line of truth, goodness and grace. When Bishop Rob Hirschfeld of New Hampshire told his clergy they might need to prepare their wills, many called him hyperbolic. But look at the reality: just a week ago, over one hundred clergy and leaders were arrested in Minneapolis for standing up for truth. This is not a nightmare or an alternate reality or a feeling. It is a fact.
 
I do not wish for any of us to be martyrs not even in my worst dreams. But I do wish for us to be faithful. We have a responsibility to respond to that young woman and to all those like her. We must show them that none of us, in the Episcopal church at least, believe cruelty is the norm or lawlessness or absence of the rule of law is security.

We better take heed when people who walked before us, gave up their lives for justice, call us to wake up.
 
In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Let us remind the world that we are the children of God everywhere!
 
And finally, hear the words of Jesus, who stood before the powers of his day and said: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:6, 9). It is easy to bring peace. “Peace begins with a smile,” (Mother Theresa). I know we can do that.

I urge you to pray. I also invite you to stand up for me, a person of color and my children, clergy, my differently abled and LGBTQ+ friends and family, the immigrants, marginalized and scared. Let us be a church that stands with the marginalized, even when it costs us our comfort. Let us be the answer to that young woman’s heartbreak, proving that our lives themselves become evidence that Christ’s love outlasts oppression, corruption, and intimidation. (Video Link)

Bishop Jos