A deacon held center stage the Sunday morning that an extraordinary moment happened at Grace and Holy Trinity Cathedral.
The deacon had processed into the nave, flanked by torch-bearing acolytes, to read a Gospel lesson about the transfiguration of Jesus. She had recited how Peter, James and John grew terrified while watching Jesus’ garments turn dazzling white as He met with Elijah and Moses. As a cloud descended on the mountain-top group, God’s voice bellowed:
“This is my Son, the beloved; listen to Him!”
The instance the deacon read that line, a thunderous ground-level roar shook the Cathedral—and continued for about 10 seconds. Wide-eyed parishioners exchanged wary glances. Was that God’s voice they were hearing and feeling?
Other parishioners grinned. They knew the source. And they marveled at the timing.
The deacon had quoted God at the very moment, just three blocks away, that 150 pounds of explosives had reduced the 18-story Muehlebach Hotel Towers to rubble in February 1996.
The rumbling seemed fitting not only for its timing but for how it accented the ministry of a deacon by linking an outside event to indoor worship.
As Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has explained, the deacon is the Episcopal Church’s bridge between church and our faith being carried out in the world.
“The deacon is at the intersection of world and church, if you will,” he said.
Inside a church, a deacon proclaims the Gospel because it is his or her duty to share the Good News and to encourage laity to live out the Gospel, said the Venerable Bruce Bower, archdeacon for the Diocese of West Missouri.
A deacon sets the altar table for the Eucharist as a visible sign of service, he said.
And the deacon gives the dismissal — “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord” — at the end of the service to remind people that although the worship service has ended, our work has not.
“Deacons are called to be living examples of love and service, and to lead church members into living out the Gospel by loving and serving others,” Bower said.
There’s a reason why deacons wear their stoles differently than priests, too.
“We have to push our gear out of the way to dive into the duties before us,” Bower said.
Deacons are quick to point out that they are not baby priests. They cannot absolve sins. They cannot bless people in the name of the Trinity. They cannot consecrate the bread or wine.
Yet their ministry can take many forms, especially outside the church building.
West Missouri’s deacons have fed the poor, visited shut-ins, served on social service boards, tended hospice patients and their families, completed chores for disabled neighbors, participated in prison ministries, and contributed to society in a variety of other ways — often outside the view of church members.
They lead by example, Bower said. They show Episcopalians where there’s a need by pointing the way.
“Deacons play a vital role across the Episcopal Church and have for many, many years,” said the Rt. Rev. Diane M. Jardine Bruce, bishop provisional for the Diocese of West Missouri. “They are essential leaders in our congregations, and I don’t know what I would do without them!”
Nearly all West Missouri deacons perform their duties without being paid. Thirty-two deacons reside in the diocese but only 19 are active in an ongoing church role and only 13 are assigned to a parish. That means 35 parishes do without.
“So, yes, we have a shortage of deacons,” Bower said. “We have several in the process (of being ordained) through Bishop Kemper School for Ministry. But it seems like every time we ordained a new deacon, another one retires.”
For many decades, the Episcopal church used the role of a deacon only as a temporary step toward the priesthood. “Transitional deacons” remains the title for those clergy.
Starting in the 1840s, the church also ordained men as deacons to serve as missionaries to ethnic groups, such as Native Americans, and in isolated communities in the United States. Starting in 1885, many Episcopal bishops set apart women as deaconesses by prayer, and sometimes by laying on of hands, to care for the sick, poor and needy.
A little more than 70 years ago, in 1952, the Episcopal Church began ordaining men as “perpetual deacons,” to assist in the worship service much the way deacons do today. In 1970, the Episcopal Church for the first time allowed women to be ordained as deacons.
Experiencing a “call” to become a deacon happens in many ways. As some of the diocese’s veterans explain, sometimes it comes even when you fight being nudged in that direction. Sometimes, someone else sees attributes in you that you never equated with ordained ministry.
The Rev. Suzanne Lynch, who serves at St. James Episcopal Church in Springfield, remembers the day decades ago that she was discussing with her rector, the Rev. Daren Williams, the idea of starting a women’s Bible study and prayer group. Suddenly, Williams changed the topic.
“He looked at me and said, ‘You know, we could use a deacon around here.’ I am looking at him thinking, ‘Me? Are you out of your mind?’ “
The idea scared her. At the time, some parishioners still frowned on female clergy. Even Father Williams had pooh-poohed female priests. And now he was suggesting that she become ordained? Plus, public speaking intimidated Lynch. How could she read the Gospel in front of a congregation?
Later, then-Bishop John Buchanan encouraged Lynch in her discernment journey. Despite her fears, she felt compelled to move forward.
“Every step became a miracle,” Lynch said.
When the news of her impending ordination appeared in the parish newsletter, she cried. At her 1994 ordination, she balked at wearing a clerical collar. It seemed unreal. But when she knelt during the ordination service, peace enveloped her.
She knew that her job was to love people.
“The biggest surprise was that all the old geezers became my biggest backers, without question,” Lynch said.
After she finished clinical pastoral education training, she became a hospice volunteer — and later, a hospice employee. She has conducted many funerals, too.
“Being trusted with people’s hearts and their loved ones is the greatest gift I can get,” she said.
At age 75, she still feels she has His work to do. Yet she also envisions a new wave of deacons who will embrace loving each other to make the world a better place.
Another longtime West Missouri deacon, the Rev. Larry Allen, was a recently received Episcopalian when leaders at St. Michael’s Episcopal Church in Independence suggested he serve as junior warden.
“I didn’t know what a junior warden was, really, but I was never one to say no,” said Allen, who had graduated from a Bible college in 1965 but balked at becoming a preacher. “So, I found myself involved with overseeing the property and ended up doing some of the projects with group involvement.”
His priest, the Rev. Patricia Miller, soon suggested something more. Servanthood. Become a deacon, she said.
Having previously been a Baptist, Allen didn’t fully understand the role of an Episcopal deacon. Nonetheless, he agreed to enter the discernment process. Others saw the calling in him, too. Things progressed from there.
In 20 years of ordained ministry, he has served as the diocese’s Jubilee officer, worked endless hours helping with St. Michael’s necessity pantry, attended ministerial alliance meetings, and accompanied Mother Pat many a Sunday afternoon to visit shut-ins with parish volunteers. He has sorted potatoes for the hungry, trimmed trees in the church yard, participated in the men’s group — and helped during the service as a deacon should.
“I am an introvert by nature,” said Allen, now 81. “It was pushing the boundaries at times when it came to group gatherings like they have at convention.”
Working with others to help others has been enjoyable, he said.
“It is a community effort,” he said. “We can never lose sight of that. I think that’s where the joy comes. Not because of what I do or what deacons do, but you can be an example to somebody to help other people. Say, ‘Hey, come follow me and we will get this job done.’”
The Rev. Barbara Wegener, deacon at Grace & Holy Trinity Cathedral, remembers feeling a sense of call as a child but not understanding it. As an adult, she had a feeling that her son would become a priest. But that didn’t happen.
Her career in Human Resources sometimes meant assisting managers who needed to fire employees. That became emotionally devastating. She felt a need to help people instead of hurting them.
“Then people starting saying things to me” about becoming a deacon, said Wegener, a cradle Episcopalian. “I was in denial a lot.”
She held clergy is such high regard that she could not imagine becoming one of them. The thought of attending classes again scared her. She prayed, asking God for guidance.
“I kept praying, ‘If this is truly your will, take away my fear.’ All my fear disappeared,”. She said.
Ordained just two years ago, she enjoys connecting with people, providing emotional support to those in need, and sharing her love of God.
Life is not about personal possessions, she said, “but about spreading the Gospel and being loving to everyone. It is really about helping people and being where the need is, whatever that need may be. It could be administrative, it could be providing food, it could be helping them understand something going on in their lives. A lot of it is just listening.”
Wegener serves on the board of Nourish KC, and is educating herself about the needs of the homeless. She expects her ministry to expand as she gains experience.
“There is so much that can be done in our parishes and in our community,” she said.
At Grace Episcopal Church in Chillicothe, the Rev. Michael Johns felt tugged for decades to help others. After long-time priest Bill Bellais retired, “some of the ladies in the church were good about suggesting to me that I should act on any calling I felt,” said Johns, who had been a lay reader for years.
Ordained three years ago, he currently serves as the deacon-in-charge at Grace. He displays an “aw, shucks,” attitude toward the title, however. It doesn’t matter, he says. Serving others does.
Johns performs a variety of chores at the church, from holding deacon masses to painting the building to maintaining the grounds. He also has drawn church members into community projects. One involves a flock of chickens.
Grace Church’s 75 chickens produce about 20 dozen eggs a week for the needy. A few church members help collect freshly laid eggs twice a day. In addition, a local Mennonite family helps tend the chickens in exchange for some eggs. Grace also operates a food pantry that serves dozens of families.
Archdeacon Bower and his wife, Joy, became Episcopalians about 40 years ago.
“For a long time, I sat in the pew and learned how to juggle the book, the bulletin and the hymnal,” said Bower, who owned an investment management and consulting company. “I went through Cursillo and EFM (Education for Ministry). I didn’t really do any of that with a sense of call.”
Then one day, an ordained person approached Bower and said, “I see something in you and wonder if you ever considered pursuing ordination.”
Discernment and ordination followed.
When he heard of the Life Connection Program at the Leavenworth Penitentiary, it reminded him of Matthew 25:36 — “I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”
The 18-month, faith-based program helped inmates learn about problem solving, behavior strategies, money management and other life skills. The program also paired each inmate with a trained mentor for weekly meetings — a role Bower filled for 10 years, until Covid-19 quashed the program.
“We’d talk about life, faith, sports, our lives, hopes and worries” Bower said. “I still get Father’s Day messages from about five of the guys I mentored. They still call me Pops.”
Anyone sensing a call to become a deacon should first speak to their parish priest or other clergy person, Bower says.
“But their very next call should be to me,” Bower said.
Lynch, Allen and the other deacons interviewed for this article promise that doing God’s work is rewarding. The Holy Spirit will guide you, they say, as you help guide the laity.
“(Presiding Bishop) Michael Curry had a great line when once asked about deacons,” Bower said. “He said that deacons are not here to serve us — they are here to teach us how to serve the world.”
“We deacons like to hang our hat on that.”
This article was submitted by Donna McGuire.
