Barbara C. Harris - Hallelujah, Anyhow!

HALLELUJAH,
ANYHOW!

HALLELUJAH,
ANYHOW!

A Memoir

B arbara C. Harr is

With Kelly Brown Douglas

Copyright 2018 by Barbara C. Harris

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

Unless otherwise noted, the Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Church Publishing
19 East 34th Street
New York, NY 10016
www.churchpublishing.org

Cover photo: Portrait of Bishop Barbara Harris by Timothy Greenfield-Sanders

Cover design by Marc Whitaker, MTWdesign
Typeset by Rose Design

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A record of this book is available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN-13: 978-1-64065-089-3 (pbk.)
ISBN-13: 978-1-64065-090-9 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

For Dorothy, Millicent (now deceased), and Marilyn:
my dearest friends for more than 70 years
and for my late sister Joey (Josephine Harris White)
my biggest cheerleader.

The Rev. John Ferris Smith, former chaplain at Groton School, Groton, Massachusetts, got me started on this project in a different narrative format many years ago.

The Rev. Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas prodded me to resume the work and is responsible for ably helping me to bring it to completion.

With thanks to the Rev. Canon Edward Rodman and the Rev. Canon Nan A. Peete for their gracious foreword and afterword, respectively.

S ome forty-nine years ago I first met Barbara Harris at the formational meeting of the Black Clergy and Laity Organization held at Saint Augustines College in Raleigh, North Carolina in 1968. The Union of Black Clergy and Laity would become the Union of Black Episcopalians. From that day until this I have been privileged to witness and sometimes participate in the epic story of her emergence as the first female bishop in the Anglican Communion and an unparalleled leader of women and men. As you delve into this remarkable womans life you will be ably guided by the inspired choice of the Rev. Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas, a noted Episcopal priest and scholar in her own right, through her insightful and probing questions of Barbara; their dialogue ensues with pace and clarity. In the annals of memoirs this motif may emerge as a preferred model for allowing the story of Barbaras life to unfold without embellishment or self-serving apologetics.

I would not attempt to add my own personal perspective because I in no way want to distract from the power of the story as it unfolds in this dialogic manner. I will only share two brief stories about my interaction with Barbara that are reflective of Barbaras humor and grace. On the steps of the Cathedral of Saint Paul in Boston, immediately following that memorable initial press conference that introduced Barbara to the world, a pigeon flew overhead and made a deposit on her immaculately coiffed afro. As she paused to get over the shock and run through the possible emotions she might have legitimately had, she finally chuckled and said in her typical self-deprecating fashion, I guess God is trying to keep me in my place. Not only was this a humorous and humbling moment, it was authentically prophetic as it prepared her for many decidedly less humorous shots that were taken at her as she trod the treacherous path from consecration to retirement.

The other story is reflective of Barbaras remarkable compassion and unique relationship that developed between her and Bishop Thomas Shaw, following the suicide of his predecessor Bishop David Johnson. At the close of the Philadelphia General Convention in 1998, Bishop Shaw approached me and inquired if I drove to the convention from Boston. It was a curious question but when he asked if I was bringing Barbara back as well, my cynical curiosity was peaked, especially since my assistant Ann Marie Marvel, Barbara, and I were all smokers, a habit which he detested. It did not take long for him to reveal his purposein a six hour drive back to Foxboro, he cunningly and deftly convinced her to stay in the diocese for three more years while he sought to raise the money and the enthusiasm to create the Barbara C. Harris Camp and Conference Center. This was a well-conceived and brilliant idea which he was able to convince her to do, despite her many efforts to talk him out of it. Needless to say, I have never let Barbara forget this episode of grace and gullibility. For such a worldly woman who has seen much and endured more, it was a sight to remember.

As I close this foreword I invite you to enjoy, learn from, and gain insight into the life and practice of my good friend and sister Barbara C. Harris.

It is well worth it and you will gain a deeper appreciation of the constant refrain that punctuates every remarkable story, hallelujah, anyhow.

Edward W. Rodman

Hallelujah anyhow
Never let your troubles get you down
Whenever troubles come your way
Hold your hands up high and say
Hallelujah anyhow!

words and music by Joseph Pace

W hy the title? The hymn Hallelujah Anyhow is reflective of the attitude I have attempted to carry through life, or at least my adult life. It speaks in a real way to the ups and downs, the peaks and valleys, and the sure knowledge that whatever happens along lifes rugged pathway, it is well with my soul.

Hymns permeate my life. They are for me a form of prayer or an entry into prayer. From my earliest days in Sunday school the hymns were the best part of church for me. I am often teased because I seldom open a hymn book. I know so many by heart: all the verses and quite a few of the page numbers of the Episcopal Churchs 1940 Hymnalmy preference over the 1982 version, by the way. The same is true for the old Baptist Standard Hymnal, The New National Baptist Hymnal, that little gem, Gospel Pearlson which I almost cut my teeth as my neighbor, Baptist deacon Pop Houston and I used to leaf through from start to finish, sitting on his front porch; Songs of Zion (a United Methodist supplemental worship resource which was edited by a childhood neighbor, Dr. Verologa Nix), Lead Me, Guide Me (the African American Catholic Hymnal), and Lift Every Voice I and II (both Episcopal hymn book supplements in the black and gospel music idiom).

Back in Sunday school at St. Barnabas Church in the Germantown section of Philadelphia, where I grew up, Miss Evelyn Joneswho did not have the best singing voice in town, but a heart full of love for little childrentaught us songs I still remember almost in their entirety. There were childrens hymns such as the one that went Jesus tender shepherd hear me, bless thy little lamb tonight. Through the darkness, be Thou near me, keep me safe til morning light, and Theres a friend for little children above the bright blue sky... And every Sunday, as we reluctantly gave up our pennies to that mysterious brass offering plate, we sang Savior bless thy truths we pray, help us live them day by day, in them live, in them love, teach us from above.

I enter my prayer closet each day with a hymn on my heart and often on my lips. My night prayer ends with a hymnusually the first one I was given to learn by my Episcopal piano teacher, Kate Waring TaylorThe day thou gavest Lord is ended, the darkness falls at thy behest. To thee our morning hymns ascended, thy praise shall sanctify our rest.