In Rector's Death, As In His Life, a Church is United
Episcopal News Service. April 7, 1995 [95068]
Steve Giegerich
(ENS) On the first Sunday of February, Bishop Joe Doss of the Diocese of New Jersey told the congregation of Christ Church in Shrewsbury that their beloved rector was dying of AIDS. The priest was gay and had been living with his lover -- also an Episcopal priest -- in the church rectory since 1988, Doss said.
To most of Christ Church, Doss' message was not a revelation. "It might have been news to some parishioners, but not many," said congregant Mike Badal.
A veil lifted as Doss spoke. Finally, what so many had known about the Rev. James LaSage for seven years was out in the open. Fraught with traumatic social and spiritual implications, the disclosure might well have put the parishioners' faith to the test. Instead, Christ Church turned it into an opportunity to put that faith into practice.
"Even though it's a terrible place to be right now, I think we all realize we may never get a chance like this again to do what God would have us do and live the Gospel," said parishioner Jamie Gwinnell of Colts Neck Township.
On February 16, eleven days after Doss' visit to Christ Church, "Father Jim" died in the rectory. That morning, LaSage's companion, the Rev. James C. McReynolds, had interrupted his bedside vigil just long enough to feed the couple's two Labrador retrievers.
McReynolds put the dogs in the back yard and headed back to LaSage's room: "As I started up the steps, it almost felt as if an angel was pulling me. I walked in the room just as his color was changing. All along I had prayed that God would let him die in my arms. God answered my prayer."
LaSage and McReynolds moved in 1988 to the Sycamore Avenue rectory from the town house they'd shared in Greenwich Village. LaSage had been curate at the Church of the Ascension in Manhattan and McReynolds was pastoral associate at Trinity Church Wall Street.
In Shrewsbury, McReynolds devoted his full attention to the Teleios Foundation, an organization assisting the residents of St. Petersburg, Russia, but he had no official role within Christ Church.
LaSage, in the meantime, assumed the leadership of a historic parish. Founded in 1702, Christ Church's congregation still meets in a structure erected in 1769.
LaSage was the 26th applicant interviewed by the church's search committee. Youth -- he was 31 at the time -- and enthusiasm got him the job. The committee believed he would be a positive influence on the young families in the congregation.
LaSage energized Christ Church. He brought the two labs to the church study with him every day. "The dogs were a part of his pastoral counseling," said McReynolds. "They helped calm people down when they came to his office."
With LaSage at the helm, Christ Church became more than a place to congregate every Sunday. There were church dinners, Thursday night Communion services and study groups that brought the Bible into modem times.
Membership at Christ Church grew steadily. Don and Jamie Gwinnell discovered LaSage while "church shopping" before they married. Raised a Roman Catholic, Jamie didn't know what to expect from a Protestant congregation. "As soon as I saw him and I heard him I just knew this was my church. He just had a certain aura," she said. LaSage and McReynolds officiated at the Gwinnells' wedding. Later the two couples became best friends.
In the sanctuary, LaSage was all business. A "cradle Episcopalian" -- born into the religion -- he had an instinctive understanding of church rites. "Everything about the service just came naturally to him," McReynolds said.
Nothing came more naturally than the Episcopalian liturgy. LaSage was a liturgical artist, so adept at assembling a service that last year Doss called upon LaSage -- chair of the diocese's liturgy commission -- to arrange his consecration as bishop.
"A service had to have a certain flow to it and, with Jim, you didn't let anything interrupt that flow," McReynolds said. "To him the sanctuary was a very blessed place," said Bob Thomas, a Christ Church member.
The line LaSage drew between the church offices and the sanctuary was not his only delineation. For there was also a distinct line drawn around his personal life.
Before coming to Shrewsbury, LaSage and McReynolds decided to neither disclose nor hide their relationship. "We believed it would distract from what Jim wanted to do as a priest. If we had made it an issue then, it would have had a divisive impact on his purpose for coming here, which was to teach the love of God to the people," McReynolds said.
"I think everybody knew right away," said church treasurer Charles Monet. "But it never really mattered to anyone."
Longtime church member Shirley Badal said the rector's sexual orientation was a hot topic at the Altar Guild shortly after LaSage and McReynolds arrived, and "a few people walked away and never came back to the church." But, Badal added, once the initial flurry of gossip and speculation subsided, no one gave it a second thought.
In hindsight, some of the parishioners wonder if the church might have been better served had LaSage and McReynolds been more forthcoming. Doss, in his February 5 remarks to the congregation, apologized for preaching tolerance from the diocesan pulpit while promoting an atmosphere that discouraged LaSage and McReynolds from openly discussing their relationship, even though the Episcopal church does not prohibit the ordination of gay men and women.
"The reality is that a significant portion of our society is gay, and from that we know that a significant proportion of our church -- all of them faithful Christians -- are gay. Openness, truth and clarity are virtues that we have to realize in our relationships with one another. Openness is better for everyone," Doss said in a telephone interview last week.
Ultimately, LaSage's illness pushed the issue out of the closet. When he was diagnosed with HIV -- "On October 4, 1991, unquestionably the worst day of our lives. We wept, we prayed, we started to learn how to live our lives one day at a time," said McReynolds -- the companions again concluded it was best the congregation at large not know. A few, like the Gwinnells, were told. The rest of the church was not.
"I don't think he said anything because his first concern was the people of this parish," said Jamie Gwinnell. "It's a terrible disease and people are ostracized. I think maybe he was afraid people would run, and he wouldn't do that to the church."
Still, many parishioners -- who wanted to be there for LaSage as he had been there so often for them -- wished they'd been informed. Said Charles Monet: "As close as he was to us he could have been honest with us so, as he was going through all this, we could have reached out to pray for him."
In the last year LaSage grew progressively weaker. And as hospital stays for kidney failure and complications kept him increasingly from the pulpit, the cause of his maladies became increasingly difficult to conceal.
At LaSage's final service, on New Year's Day, the frail rector stood bewildered and paralyzed with uncertainty before the altar. McReynolds quickly stepped up, whispered something gently in LaSage's ear and helped him. Badal watched the entire episode and concluded something was desperately wrong.
Within two weeks, Doss summoned an emergency meeting of the church vestry and the decision was made to officially inform the congregation.
The aftermath of the bishop's appearance at Christ Church proved McReynolds and LaSage had made the right decision by de-emphasizing their relationship and LaSage's illness. For Doss' announcement triggered not a debate about homosexuality and its relationship to AIDS, but a flood of love, understanding and compassion.
The AIDS that visited Christ Church became a disease bereft of the usual stigma.
"Nobody abandoned him," said Mike Badal.
To the steady stream of parishioners visiting the hospital bed in the rectory, McReynolds was a constant presence. He never left LaSage's side.
Noel Murgio, junior warden of the parish vestry, was one of four nurses in the parish to care for LaSage in his final days. "I've witnessed a lot of families in that situation (watching and waiting as a loved one dies). But Father McReynolds was the most nurturing person I have ever seen. It was incredible, that love," Murgio said.
As difficult as the last days were, McReynolds said he is mostly at peace. "When I can let myself feel where Jim is now, I am happy and filled with joy," he said.
Bishop Doss and McReynolds said the Mass and delivered the homily at LaSage's funeral on February, 18. The rector's favorite parishioners read the Scriptures.
For the mourners who packed Christ Church, there was joy along with sorrow. Everyone agreed the service -- meticulously planned by a liturgical genius -- was the perfect farewell for a cradle Episcopalian.
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