Texas Monthly Talks
C. Andrew Doyle
The new Episcopal bishop on politics, faith, and Twitter.
Sam Brannon says: Man, this guy rocks. He makes me want to go back to church. Wait, I’m a Lutheran pastor, I already attend church regularly. (September 17th, 2009 at 10:43am)
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Why’s that?
Because we’re operating out of a model that does not understand that technology and communication have changed around us. The complexities of the world are just now being tippy-toed into by churches, and that keeps us out of a place where people can find us, where they’re building community. It’s not that we’re locked out; it’s that we can’t find the door. So we really have a challenge.
Stay with your political voice for a second. There’s been a huge debate over the past ten years about the proper balance between politics and religion. Where do they converge and diverge?
I’m really interested in this subject. I just finished reading Jon Meacham’s book about Andrew Jackson, American Lion, and I’m currently reading Theodore Rex—two books that deal with periods in which the idea of a public faith is challenged. The country finds its wisdom as a wisdom of the whole, with no one perspective gaining control over any other. But as Americans, we’ve been given this incredible right and responsibility to engage in a public discourse. As good Episcopalians and Anglicans, I really think we have a duty to allow our voices to be part of that conversation, no matter where we are on the political spectrum or faith spectrum.
That’s not in conflict, as you see it, with the tradition of a separation between church and state?
Most people think separation of church and state means that the church should have no dialogue with the state and that the state should have no dialogue with the church.
It’s really about undue influence.
It isn’t about us being quiet, so I don’t see any conflict at all. But it means that, as bishop, I have to think carefully about who I am within the larger theology of the church and then ask how that affects the conversation I’m having.
How do you define the mission of the Episcopal Church today?
The world around us ought to be, at the end of the day, a better place because Episcopalians are a part of it.
What does the church do to make that happen?
We provide assistance to immigrants and first-generation Latinos in Austin. We provide pastoral care to most every ship that comes into the Port of Houston through chaplaincy services and ecumenical partnership. We’re digging water wells in Malawi. We’re supporting hospitals in South America. We’re feeding the homeless. We’re helping the poor to find jobs. We have a huge network of outreach within the Diocese of Texas that is transforming the lives of the people of this state and this country and this world. As bishop I get to see all this incredible work that Episcopalians and those who join with them do every day. But I also get to see people who come to me on a Sunday-by-Sunday basis and tell me that they have found this incredible church home and community and family and that their lives have never felt better spiritually. That is an amazing thing.
Let’s talk about the sexual orientation of clergy and same-sex marriage, which have been quite controversial in the church and the subject of a few stories in the press over the past few years.
When it comes to us, it seems like the media does what the media does. It has to sell its product. I think if we had more free media it might be different, but we don’t.
I would say, Bishop, that when you have congregations splitting off in protest, that’s worthy of reporting, and it has nothing to do with free versus paid media. So, to finish, I’d like to ask you: Do you have a position on these issues?
The Diocese of Texas is very conservative, and it has a very traditional understanding of marriage. I do not see my work as trying to change that. Even though there is a great diversity of points of view on this topic, the people of the diocese will not see changes in how we look at same-sex blessings or unions, nor on the topic of ordination of bishops. Now—and this is the important part for me—I grew up in a diverse culture and have friends who are gay and lesbian. The reality of our diocese is that we have gays and lesbians who go to our churches. They find their spiritual journeys entwined with our own in this place. So when I make the statement that things will not change, there is a great deal of pain. I am unwilling to pretend that pain is not there. Where there is love, there is always a great deal of pain, and I love the people of the Diocese of Texas. That love is not a love that is bound by issues of sexuality.
Do you feel compelled by the conservatism of the diocese to preside differently than you’d like to if it were not the diocese’s stated position?
Your question misses the very deepest understanding of the vocation that I have as bishop. I am the individual called forth by the community to guard and protect the faith and to hand the faith on as I have received it.
So your personal point of view doesn’t really matter.
Exactly.
You alluded earlier to the importance of communication. Certainly you’ve embraced twenty-first-century technology more than any religious leader I know—
I sent out a Twitter that said you were about to call me.
You appear to be quite comfortable with new forms of communication as a way to preach the gospel.
It’s the reality in which I grew up. I have a blog. I’m on Facebook. I have a Twitter account. It’s part of who I am. I didn’t do these things because I thought, “Oh, I need to have a blog” or “I need to Twitter.” It’s because I’m part of a larger community of friends across the country and the world.
Is the target audience current worshippers, or are you out there looking for new business?
My first invitation to join Twitter came from my best friend, who I’ve known for something like 25 years. So it’s not just me trying to reach out. Now, I will say that I find it amazing that people who live in Connecticut stumble upon the blog and read a particular text or listen to one of my sermons on iTunes and think, “Oh, my gosh.”
I guess this is a generational thing for you. At 43, you’re the second-youngest bishop in the country.
It’s been said that baby boomers would be satisfied with nineties technology, that Generation X, which is my generation, would always be interested in what’s coming next, and that the current generation, the Millennials, would simply be wired. I probably find myself more in line with the Millennial way of thinking than the other two.
When all this is said and done—when your time as bishop comes to an end—what do you want to have accomplished? What do you want people to remember about you?
I really would hope that people would say of me that I loved God, I loved Jesus Christ, and I was a faithful follower who lived that out—both in my life, with my family, and with the church. I hope that people would be able to look back on my tenure and think to themselves that we were great together. That this was a great moment for us as Episcopalians in the state of Texas. That they, together with their bishop, did absolutely miraculous work.
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